Read Ebook: A Cruise in the Sky; or The Legend of the Great Pink Pearl by Sayler H L Harry Lincoln Riesenberg Sidney H Illustrator

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Ebook has 1210 lines and 41417 words, and 25 pages

"Better get 'em out o' the ditch, in case o' rain," said the boy, and, despite his years, the well-muscled lad tackled the job. It was not an easy one, but, by rolling and sliding, the heavy parcels were soon landed on the edge of the soft roadway. The moon was now shining so brightly that the lad could make out the time. It was 8:35 P.M.

"Now," said the lad, mopping his face, "we can go toward the river or away from it."

"Perhaps the town is on the river," suggested his mother, more composed. "We'll try--there's a light," she added excitedly.

Far down the white strip of road was certainly a light. From its low, regular swing, the boy at once concluded that it was a lantern. He so informed his mother, who immediately became newly panic-stricken.

"It may be robbers," she gasped, clutching her son's arm again.

"Robbers don't carry lanterns, mother. Let's hope it's the hotel runner or transfer man."

"Or tramps," added the woman in a frightened whisper.

"Look here, mother," answered the boy soberly. "You know the only way for us to get out of this mess is to find someone to tell us where we are and what we've got to do. There is certainly someone coming toward us. Do you want to meet whomever it is, or run away and hide in the bushes?"

"I suppose we ought to wait," answered his mother meekly.

"Wait nothin'," exclaimed the boy. "We'll march right up to the relief party."

Leaving their baggage in the road, the boy took his mother by the hand and, despite her alarm, marched her forward along the road. The suspense was soon over. In a few moments, a figure emerged from the shadows. While it was yet a hundred yards away, the anxious boy, partly to keep up his courage, sang out a bold "Hello!"

"You folks get off that train?" was the response in a man's voice.

"We did," answered the boy. "Where's Valkaria?"

"Valkaria?" repeated the approaching stranger good-naturedly. "Why, you're right on the main street now."

The man, who by this time had reached them, was unquestionably neither robber nor tramp. He was past middle age, well but roughly dressed, and wore a yachting cap on top of a good growth of silvery white hair, which lay above a face bronzed by the sun and wind.

"We are from the north," hastily explained the woman, "and we are looking for the place where my brother-in-law, Mr. Abner Leighton, lived--"

"Then you must be--"

"Mrs. Howard Leighton, of St. Paul. And this is my son, Andrew. We have come--"

"I understand," interrupted the man quickly. "I wrote to your husband. My name is Anderson--Captain Anderson. Why didn't you let me know? We'd have met you. I heard the train stop, and I wondered what it meant. So I came up to see. I'm glad to meet you."

"And you live here?" began Mrs. Leighton, as Captain Anderson shook hands with her and Andy. "You can't imagine how relieved I am. But are there any buildings--a hotel or boarding house?"

"Yes," continued Andy. "We've got all this stuff scattered along Main Street, and haven't had any supper, and as for sleepin'--"

Captain Anderson laughed and picked up his lantern.

"As for your baggage, we'll take care of that in short order. Your uncle and I were friends for many years. His house is over on the other side of the railroad. You can't go there to-night. My place is down here on the river--"

"But, Captain--" began Mrs. Leighton.

"Young man," interrupted the captain, ignoring Mrs. Leighton's protest, "take this lantern and start right down the road with your mother. I'll be after you as soon as I find those grips. You'll eat and sleep to-night in the Anderson house. There isn't any Valkaria but a signboard."

Captain Joe Anderson's real home was in the north on one of the great lakes. As a young man he had devoted much of his time to yachting. Therefore, when he and Mrs. Anderson sought a winter home in the south, he built his bungalow on the wide, baylike Indian River.

To this salubrious spot Captain Joe and his wife hastened each fall. With no servants, Mrs. Anderson saw to the few household needs. Living on the shore of the biggest and most beautiful body of boating water in America, Captain Joe gave every daylight hour to sailing and making boats.

Just to the left of his trim little cottage was a low, wide building. Therein, when summer came, Captain Anderson stored his boats. These ran from his well-known sailing yacht "Valkaria," down through smaller craft for fishing and cruising to three or four skiffs or rowboats. He had no power-boats and, as Andy Leighton soon learned, had no patience with those who owned or operated them.

At this time of the year, with his boats safely moored at the long pier, which extended 150 yards out into the shallow river, the boathouse was a boat shop. Here, when he was not on the water sailing with Mrs. Anderson, Captain Joe was busy, slowly working into shape some new water craft. Some days, when it rained or a norther brought a chill to the balmy spot, he would kindle a fire in the big stove in the boathouse, and, his tools lying idle, sit and read.

Before Mrs. Leighton and Andy had even come in sight of the light in the Anderson home the captain had rejoined them.

"I don't know how we are going to repay you for your kindness, Captain Anderson," Andy's mother began.

"I know one way," answered their rescuer good-humoredly. "Your brother-in-law's home isn't much of a place, but if you and your son can see your way to livin' there awhile each winter, that'll be all the reward I want. It gets pretty lonesome down here sometimes for Mrs. Anderson."

Then the two older persons began to exchange talk about their northern homes and possible mutual friends. At the first opportunity, Andy broke in:

"Captain Anderson, what did my uncle do down here? I suppose he raised oranges."

"Your uncle was a peculiar man," answered the captain. "I liked him. But I never could understand why a good lawyer should bury himself in the wilderness."

"Father says he used to be a fine lawyer," commented the boy, "but his health failed."

"And like a lot more such people," added Captain Anderson, "he got to livin' alone and bein' so much alone, he got sort o' peculiar."

"One could tell that from his letters, when we got any," interrupted Mrs. Leighton. "He used to write about some invention on which he was working."

"An engine," broke in Andy. "Father told me my uncle thought he had an engine that was to do wonderful things. Did it work?"

"Oh, his engine worked all right," answered Captain Joe soberly. "There wasn't any trouble about that. That wasn't his real weakness. He made engines that'd work just as long as he ran 'em like other people, with steam or gasoline. But steam and gasoline didn't suit him. He was lookin' for some other kind o' power; something cheap and light--calcium something I think it was."

"Gas from calcium carbide?" suggested Andy impulsively.

"Yes, that's it--calcium carbide," went on Captain Joe, "though I never took any stock in it and never paid much attention to it. He said when he got his generator finished, he'd be able to carry his power in a little tube."

"And did he?" persisted Andy, pushing forward. "Did he finish his generator?"

Instead of replying at once, Captain Anderson dropped back by Mrs. Leighton's side.

"Madam," he said soberly, "the doctor said your brother-in-law died o' heart disease. But there was enough other things in that shop o' his to kill him,--gases and fumes and odors,--and if I had a guess about what ended his lonesome life, I'd say it was as much that idea of his as a weak heart. If he ever got at the bottom o' what he was lookin' for," added Captain Anderson, turning to the eager Andy, "I reckon no one'll ever know unless he wrote it down. And there's nothin' o' that sort so far as I know."

While Mrs. Leighton made further inquiries concerning her late relative Andy's brain was beginning to burn with a sudden and new curiosity. Andy's father was a factory foreman, and the family lived in a modest home in a city suburb, but the boy had already finished the second year of high school. Andy had all the dreams, desires, and determinations of the average boy. But he had something more--a decided bent for mechanics.

Only the summer before, Andy and a classmate had made a single-cylinder gas engine. It didn't happen to work when completed, but that didn't matter. The making of it had given Andy a good knowledge of engines. Like many an older person, he was already theorizing on a new motive power. Anyway, he knew what Captain Joe meant when he spoke of "calcium something."

"Captain Anderson," said Andy, breaking in on the talk of his elders, "is it too late to see my uncle's shop to-night?"

"It'll be too late when we've had some supper. But in the morning I'll turn over the key. Everything is there just as Mr. Leighton left it--except the engine he made two years ago, and that's in my boathouse."

"Does that one work?" persisted Andy, eagerly.

"It does, with gasoline," returned the man. "That's the one your uncle made for the aero-catamaran. I'll turn that over to you--I haven't any use for power-boats."

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