Read Ebook: Battling the Bighorn; or The Aeroplane in the Rockies by Sayler H L Harry Lincoln Nuyttens Josef Pierre Illustrator

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Ebook has 618 lines and 52096 words, and 13 pages

The Fire in the Hangar 83

"Old Baldy" 265

Battling the Bighorn OR The Aeroplane in the Rockies

A FLIGHT BY NIGHT

"Flash the light on the compass again, Frank. Let's have another look!"

Instantly the ray of an electric hand-light shot over the shoulder of a boy and centered itself on a curiously arranged compass fixed between the lad's feet.

"About a point off northwest--"

"More to the north it is," was the instant answer. At the same time there was a creak as if the speaker had executed some movement; the crouching Frank lurched forward and then fell back into a low chair behind the other boy. "Keep a lookout below for any lights you can recognize, but use the floor trap--don't open that window again; the rain comes in like a waterfall. I'll keep watch ahead," added Phil, ignoring his companion's tumble.

"You needn't bother," suggested Frank. "We'd 'a' raised the town lights if we were anywhere near 'em. I tell you, we're way off our course!"

"Good enough," chuckled Phil. "What do we care? We wanted a ride in the dark and we're gettin' it, good and plenty."

"The rain and clouds may be shuttin' out sight o' the town lights a little," conceded Frank. "I guess you'd better keep your eyes peeled just the same. There are lights below, here and there," he continued, "but they don't mean anything; that is, I can't make anything out of 'em. I own up--I don't know where we are."

"What's the difference?" asked Phil. "We're here, snug as bugs in a rug--"

"Listen," broke in Frank.

A vivid flash of lightning had plunged into the horizon; the heavens seemed one long roaring roll of thunder and then--as if beginning anew--torrents of rain dashed against what was apparently an enclosing protection of glass.

"The rain's comin' from the east," shouted Phil. "Open one of the ports on the left; it's in the lee of the storm and it's gettin' too hot in here."

Again the boy in the rear arose and, fumbling about in the dark as if turning a catch, at last shoved upward a swinging section of glass. As his companion had suggested, the new opening was in the lee of the rain. There was a welcome inrush of fresh, moist air but the two boys were completely protected from the downpour.

He leaned his head on his hands, his elbows braced in the open space, and let the cool air fan his perspiring face. "Keep her goin'; go anywhere; go as far as you like. I don't care whether we--"

"Look at the barometer. How high are we?" interrupted the other boy sharply.

Frank crawled from the open window, flashed his electric light again and turned its rays on an altitude barometer hanging at the right of his companion, crawled closer to the instrument and then announced: "Twenty-three hundred feet! Keep her to it," he continued. "It's great. Everything is workin' fine. The poundin' of the rain on the glass with us as dry as bones in here, makes me feel mighty comfortable."

"Like rain on a tent campin' out when you're half asleep on your dry balsam," suggested his companion.

"All of that," was Frank's good-natured response. "Here, give me that wheel. I'll take a turn. Crawl over to the window and stick your head out. It's great."

Without a protest Phil slipped from the low chair in which he had been sitting rigidly and Frank skilfully took his place. In another moment Phil was kneeling in the black darkness by the opening.

"It's all right," Phil exclaimed, "and I'm glad we did it. I suppose," he added a moment later, "that it's the first time anyone ever did. It may be a little risky, but it's worth while. Yet," he added after several moments, "I guess we've gone far enough. There isn't a sign of a town light in sight and I don't know where we are. Let's make a landing and camp out in the car till the storm is over."

"If we do that," suggested the boy in the chair, "we'll stay all night. We'll never get up again out of a wet field--if we're lucky enough not to straddle a fence, jab a tree into us or find a perch on the comb of a barn."

There was a grunt from his companion.

"No use to figure on all those things," was the answer. "We can't keep agoin' till daylight and since we've got to stop sometime, we might as well take chances--"

"Right now?" broke in Frank. "All right! Now it is, if you say so."

There was a creak as of a straining wire and the boys braced themselves against an immediate lurch forward. The glass windows or ports rattled slightly as something above seemed to check the fast flight. Phil added:

"Stand by the barometer; it's our only guide; I can't see a thing."

"Two thousand feet," was the report almost instantly. Then, the two boys yet braced toward the rear, came additional reports every few moments until nine hundred feet was reached. "Ease her up, Phil," suggested the lad at the barometer, "we're doin' sixty-two miles by the anemometer--"

Before he could say more the creaking sound as of wires straining came again. There was another check and once more the motion seemed horizontal.

"That's better," added Phil. "Now I'll open the bottom port and keep a lookout for land."

He threw himself on the floor, drew up a square door in front of the second seat and, tossing his cap aside, stuck his head through the opening.

"Rapidly gettin' dryer no faster," laughed the boy in the forward chair.

"Right," commented Phil as his head again disappeared through the opening. For some moments neither boy spoke. In this silence, the rain pelting the glass sides seemed to grow louder, but this sound was dimmed by a constant whirr behind the glass compartment--a monotonous, unvarying sound as of large wheels in motion. Mingled with this was another tone--the unmistakable, delicate tremble of an engine or motor.

"Shut her down to half and hold your course," suddenly came a muffled call from the reinserted head of the lookout.

There was a quick snap; an instant diminution in the tremble and whirr in the rear and Phil's head was again far out of the trapdoor in defiance of wind and rain. The forward motion was lessening somewhat. When three or four minutes had passed, the boy on lookout drew his head in again, dashed the rain out of his eyes and crawled to the barometer.

"Eight hundred feet," he announced. "That's good. I picked up a light--some farmer's kitchen, I guess--but nothin' doin'; too dark. Drop her a couple hundred feet."

Without comment from the boy in the chair the same creaking noise sounded once more and Phil, the electric flash centered on the altitude register, kept his eyes on that instrument.

"Six hundred feet," he called in a few moments. "Keep her there while I have another look. We--"

Before he could finish, a flash of lightning turned the sky into the inside of a phosphorescent sphere. But it was not the gorgeous display of the wild tangle of silvered clouds that the two boys saw. Before the flare ended their eyes were fixed on what was beneath them. There was no need of an order from Phil. In the blaze of light it could be seen that Frank's feet rested on two lever stirrups. Even before the light died, his right foot shot forward, there was another sound of a straining wire and the glass enclosed car instantly shot to the right and slightly downward. At the same time Frank's right hand, already clutching a wheel attached vertically to the side of his chair, drew swiftly back and with it came a renewed jarring, checking motion above. Almost instantly the car, while it continued its flight to the right, became horizontal again.

"Got our bearin's anyway," was the operator's gasping remark.

"If you can bank her and get down right away," said the other boy as he sprang to the open hatch again, "we can make it in one of those fields. We've cleared the woods by this time," he added with no little relief. "The way we're headed, it's all clear forward for a mile--"

"Except fences," interrupted Frank. "But we'll try it. Look out."

"Bank her and when you're right, I'll give the word," was Phil's answer, his head disappearing through the floor opening.

The illumination had shown the two boys that they were directly above a wide stretch of timber land. Where this disappeared in the distant west was blacker low ground, which a winding stream told plainly enough was a marsh. To the right lay a straight road and beyond this miles of cultivated land in fenced fields.

Again the glass compartment lurched; this time on an angle that made both boys brace themselves securely.

"Not too much," yelled Phil over his shoulder and through the roar of the storm. "Be sure you clear the trees."

"She's well over," called the operator. "Look out for fences!"

The boy on the floor was apparently looking out as well as his two straining eyes could pierce the gloom.

"We're clear of 'em by a mile," persisted the boy at the wheel. "Get back there and keep your eyes peeled," he shouted. "We might as well come down here."

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