CHAPTER XIX WITH THE SPEED OF A WHIRLWIND
Later that night had anyone happened along the mountain trail aboveColonel Crider's pasture, as Johnny Thompson had done one night some timebefore, they might have seen as on that other night, two dark figuresdarting back and forth across old Nicodemus' pen. One led, the otherfollowed but not once did the one catch up with the other. At last, theone that always led, climbed up the side of the pen to go tumbling overit and disappear in the shadows that lie thick along the Stone Mountaintrail in the moonlight. The Kentucky football star had been having alittle practice. If one were to judge by his action it might be proper tosay that Nicodemus had enjoyed this nocturnal adventure quite as much asthe boy.
* * * * * * * *
"Here," Johnny was smiling as he handed a folded paper to Donald nextday. "Here's the release for Uncle Mose's coal rights. It worked like acharm. But tell me, how did you do it?"
"Not so difficult when you know how." Donald pointed to a long,irregularly formed glass tube in the corner. It was in three sections."There's a transformer up there on the ridge. The line carries power to acoal mine. Hope they don't arrest me for stealing power. Guess they won'tif I tell my story.
"You see," he went on after a chuckle, "I had some gas extracted fromliquid air in those tubes. When they were all connected and hung downfrom a tall tree they made quite a long, zig-zagging line. By running apowerful current through the gas in the tubes, I was able to give you afairly accurate picture of what lightning is at its best.
"Just a neon sign really," he added quietly. "Sort of irreverent toimitate God's wrath perhaps, but I trust I'll be forgiven."
"I see," Johnny's tone told his admiration. "But how about the thunder?"
"Simple enough, but costly. Nice little explosion of liquid air mixedwith carbon."
"You're an artist in your line," Johnny complimented him.
"Perhaps," the other boy agreed. "Also something of a nut. Rather wildsort of way to get what you want. I shouldn't care to recommend it as aregular thing."
Later that day Johnny found himself in his car threading his way over adifficult passage. The hour for his departure with Ballard for Hillcrestand the great game on the morrow was rapidly approaching. He did want onemore word with the aviator down in the valley so he had decided to have atry at reaching him in his car.
This try was to end in disaster. Just as he was negotiating the lasttwenty rods of the trail something went wrong with his brakes. He shotdown a short, steep slope, took a sudden shock that all but sent himthrough the windshield, then, with a sinking heart felt his right frontwheel crumple from the impact.
"Here we are," he groaned. "No train until morning! No car available. Andtomorrow's the big game. Hillcrest will be defeated without Old Kentucky.What's worse, Kentucky will die if he is not there. Could anything beworse?"
"See you're in a fix," a friendly voice said. The speaker was close athand. Johnny looked up. It was the young aviator.
"Yes, a terrible mess!" Johnny's voice carried conviction.
"Tell me about it."
Johnny told of his dilemma, told it as he had never told anything before.
"But why not let me fly you over?" the other suggested simply.
"With your liquid air motor?"
"Why not?"
"Suppose it fails?"
"It won't fail!"
"Done!" Johnny gripped his hand. "I--I'll go get Kentucky and-andthanks."
"Save that for the end of the trip," the pilot grinned.
"Are--are you," Johnny had been struck by a sudden thought, "could youuse a little publicity on your new type of motor?"
"It would be thankfully received."
"You shall have it," Johnny was away.
On his way to find Kentucky, Johnny scribbled a note, then thrust ittogether with two new paper dollars into Lige Field's hand.
"Here Lige," he exclaimed, "hop on your pony and ride like sixty to theGap. Get this message off. The change is all yours."
"Thanks, Johnny! Thanks a powerful lot!" Lige was away and so was Johnny.
After racing up the creek and over a low ridge to notify Kentucky oftheir good-bad fortune of a wrecked car and a promised airplane ride,without waiting for the other boy to pack his bag, he hastened backtoward the meadow and the waiting plane.
On the way he caught up with Donald Day. "Come on along with me to themeadow," he urged. "We're flying back to Hillcrest for tomorrow's game."
"Boy! You're going high-hat in a big way!" Donald exclaimed, increasinghis speed.
"Case of necessity," Johnny explained.
"One thing I wanted to ask you," Johnny said after a moment of silentmarching. "What would happen if you pumped a quantity of liquid air intoa football?"
"Football would get mighty cold, nearly freezing, perhaps worse."
"And then?"
"Then it would expand until it burst. You can't confine liquid air, atleast not in any ordinary way."
"That," said Johnny, "was just what I suspected. Those fellows played atrick on us. A player kicked the football into the bleachers, one of thefans substituted another ball he'd just given a shot of liquid air."
"Strange sort of thing to do," Donald's brow wrinkled. "Tell me aboutit."
Johnny did tell him about that football game and the bursting ball.
"Queer sense of humor," was Donald's comment. "Lost them the game, didn'tit?"
"At least they lost it," Johnny chuckled. "Hope there'll be no monkeyshines tomorrow. Guess there won't be. Good clean, hard-fighting crowd,that Naperville team. But they've got to take a licking. And they will ifonly the old Doc will let Kentucky play."
"Here's hoping!" said Donald. "And here we are at the meadow. There'sBallard coming over the ridge. You can't stop that boy. He's a greatfellow. My grandfather is very fond of him. You're doing wonders for him,Johnny. Got to be getting back. Here's luck for tomorrow!" The youngscientist gripped Johnny's hand. Then he was away.
Five minutes later with their strange, air-burning motor hitting hard onevery cylinder, the boys, with their pilot, felt themselves being liftedhigh into the bluest of blue skies that so often smile down upon the BlueRidge Mountains of Kentucky.
To the inexperienced person it is impossible to judge the speed withwhich an airplane travels. With no trees, no telephone poles, no nothingspeeding past him, he is likely to think of himself standing still inmid-air. Not so Johnny Thompson. He had ridden in many planes and underevery possible condition. He had come to have a sort of sixth sense. Thiswas a feeling for speed. As he now sped through the air he became wildlyexcited for he was, he knew, travelling faster than ever before.
"It's the fuel," he told himself. "Liquid air and carbon." Stealing aglance over the pilot's shoulder, he watched with amazement as the speedindicator rose from two hundred to two-fifty, then to three hundred.
"With a little tail wind, we'd beat the clock," he chuckled. "Be therebefore we know it."
They were, but not until Johnny had time for a few serious thoughts abouttomorrow's game. That game meant a great deal. For Hillcrest it meant afinal triumph over an ancient rival. All the old grads would be there.Some had wired for reserve seats from a distance of a thousand miles.Some, like himself, were to come by plane. Johnny thrilled at thethought.
He closed his eyes for a moment and into his mind's vision there floatedthe "Crimson Flood," the team: Stagger Weed, Tony Blazes, Jack RabbitJones, Artie Stark, Punch Dickman--all marched before him. And afterthat, most important of all, Red Dynamite and Old Kentucky. "Good OldDynamite!" he whispered. "And Kentucky! They must win! They--"
But what was this? Had something gone wrong with the motor? A chill sethim shuddering. They were circling for a landing.
Then he laughed. Seizing Kentucky's hand, he gripped it hard. "We'rehere!" he shouted. "Kentucky, we are here! The emergency landing a milefrom Hillcrest is right beneath us." And so it was. They had
come withthe speed of the wind, no ordinary wind either, the speed of a whirlwind.
Fast as they had come, the news of their strange and daring flight with anew and little-tried motor had preceded them. Johnny's message had comethrough. A crowd had gathered to see them land. In that crowd werereporters and camera men. Their pictures would be in all the morningpapers. Johnny, Kentucky, and the inventor of this new motor would bethere. All this would be grand publicity for the inventor and his motor.It would help to swell the crowd at tomorrow's game. Johnny was glad.