Battling the Clouds Part 17

"Of course not!" said Bill. "Let's get off. I have a hunch that we ought to get along. We don't want to have to follow all the way to Leavenworth."

"All right-o, let's be off!" seconded Ernest. "Take the pilot's seat, and I will help you if it is necessary. Good luck, old dear!"

"Here comes Tom and the other fellow," said Bill. "They can hold us."

He climbed into his seat and Ernest sat beside him, nursing his wounded arm. Tom and his helper, boiling with amazement and curiosity, held the machine and turned it to face the wind.

Bill gave his engine plenty of gas, the propellers whirled faster and faster, and when they reached top speed under Bill's accustomed hand, he gave the signal and the men let go. The plane bounded forward, skipping merrily over the field. Bill balanced on one wheel for a moment, then with a thrill of the heart such as he had never known tilted the elevating plane and felt himself rise in the air.

They were off!

CHAPTER XIII

As the plane, responding perfectly to Bill's touch, soared upward, it seemed as though they were rising on gossamer wings out of a well of darkness and mists. They actually rose to greet the sun whose first rays were gilding the tops of the hills. They went up in the very face of the great orb whose light, first striking the upper wings, turned all the delicate wires and cords to gold. How they shone in the clear early sunlight! As the pace increased, Bill felt rather than heard the delicate humming of the wires. Over the roar of the engine he did not know whether he could distinguish a delicate sound or whether it was only a trick of his imagination, but he was so exalted and so thrilled by the wonderful experience through which he was pa.s.sing that he seemed to hear all sorts of celestial sounds.

Fear fell from him. A new power was born in heart and brain. He felt as uplifted in soul as he was in body. Somehow he longed more than ever to be a good boy; to harbor good thoughts; to do good deeds. When he tried to think of Frank and his ugly black actions, he found that he regarded them through a haze as though they were a long ways away and of little consequence. All was going to be well. It was as though the darkness from which they had risen was a symbol. They were going up, up into the light! Bill knew as well as though some higher power had whispered it to him that there would be a good ending: he did not doubt his ability to do an almost unheard-of thing. His hand was as steady as though he had flown all his life. He was "exalted in spirit," because his goal was a worthy one. Without a question for their own safety, the boys had started on an enterprise filled with dangers, in order to save Lee from false imprisonment and possibly worse. Ernest knew the Indian nature better even than Bill. He knew how impossible it is for them to bear unmerited disgrace and how often they end that disgrace with a bullet or the swift thrust of a knife. He hoped that the white blood that dominated Bill's good friend was strong enough to overcome this trend, but nevertheless he felt that there was not a moment to be lost. So there he sat, only an observer in his well-beloved aeroplane, the broken arm throbbing with a blinding pain, while Bill--young Bill who had never been nearer to flying than the warping of a wing and the sailing on one wheel over the field--sat in the pilot's seat, grave and intent, and guided their swift flight.

But ah, who could tell the thoughts that all unbidden coursed through the mind of the culprit lying bound and m.u.f.fled in the rear seat? So intently were the eyes of his spirit bent inward on the dark and whirling horrors they found there that the eyes of his body were blind to the wonders of the young day. He lay where they had placed him, staring blindly through his goggles straight up into the great dome above him.

The storm seemed to have washed the very air. It was clear as crystal. A few clouds, thin as gossamer, hung here and there, growing less as a steady breeze sprang up in the wake of the sun and gently dismissed them from the great blue bowl in which they lingered.

When they pa.s.sed through these fairy clouds, they found them a soft golden mist shot through with rainbow colors. Then emerging, they pa.s.sed once more into blue s.p.a.ce, a s.p.a.ce greater than Bill had ever imagined.

How tiny, how frail they were: three boys darting in a man-made machine high above their own realm! What daring! What risks!

Daring, risks? Bill was unable to grasp the meaning of those earth-born words. He felt neither small nor frail. He, Bill Sherman, a boy, was among the conquerors!

At a signal from Ernest he increased the speed and soared upward. It is safer in the higher alt.i.tudes, although there is usually a great deal more wind blowing there. In case of any engine trouble, you have more time and a longer distance in which to bring the machine to the gliding angle. Also if you are flying over a city when trouble threatens, you have a chance to find a good landing place.

All of these things Bill had had lectured to him endlessly at Sill, and from both Ernest and Tom at school. But actual experience he had not had. That fact, however, he put resolutely behind him. Just one breath of fear struck him. He had witnessed a tail dive once at Sill, and over and over his mind kept repeating, "Keep the tail a little higher than the head and you won't spin." Ernest smiled to himself as he saw from Bill's manoeuvers as the flight went on that he had stored away all the counsel he had listened to. Many a trained aviator never learned to drive his engine and balance his plane with the cool cleverness and judgment of this young and untried aeronaut. Ernest commenced to relax and enjoy himself. If they had no engine accident, there was no reason to suppose that Bill would wreck the plane.

"Up!" cried Ernest, pointing with his well hand.

Bill responded and the plane again soared aloft.

Here the wind screamed a gale. The plane shot forward, the wires whistling, the engine drumming, the whole light fabric in which they rode quivering. Bill's hand on the wheel grew tense; his faculties seemed on a wire edge. Ernest's guiding hand pointed to the right. Bill was surprised. He had kept good track of his direction by the aid of the air compa.s.s and felt sure he was going in the right direction.

Nevertheless he turned and, banking his wings and lifting the ailerons, moved smoothly in the direction suggested. Half an hour later Ernest again motioned, this time for a turn to the left.

It was not until days after their arrival at Sill that Ernest thought to tell Bill that the unexpected and seemingly unnecessary deviations from the straight course were merely to try him out. An hour or so later when Ernest saw that they were pa.s.sing over a strip of country where good landing places seemed plentiful, he indicated a dip and Bill executed it perfectly. He felt proud of himself now, and said, "Tail up, tail up!"

repeatedly, as he felt the plane drop earthward. Reaching a lower level, Ernest nodded and they sailed on a straight-away flight, their eyes turned ever to the far-away goal in the west.

Bill was unconscious of the pa.s.sing time. They had had a heavy and sustaining breakfast, and luncheon was forgotten. There was no time to stop if they had been hungry. But Ernest was thinking of many things.

He carefully scanned the country they were pa.s.sing over for a landing place. Bill's face was well covered with the flaps of his helmet and the wings of his goggles, but Ernest fancied that the young aviator was pale. He felt that they must land for awhile. Even now they were many hours ahead of the time they would have made on a railroad train. He indicated an upward course, and Bill rose as they raced over a flat and open part of the country. Far ahead there lay what seemed to be an open plain dotted at long intervals with small villages. A pleasant farming district evidently, far from any large city. Ernest was sure that he could get gasoline in any hamlet, and there seemed to be plenty of landing places. The only question remaining was Bill's ability to get down without a smash. Ernest smiled. He was fatalist enough to be willing to risk what _had_ to be risked.

The sun was well in the west. They seemed to be flying straight into the blazing disk when Ernest, pointing to a wide plain far ahead, touched Bill and told him with a gesture to go down and land.

Bill gave a short nod and prepared to obey. There flashed into his head a saying of Tom's, "Anybuddy can fly, but it's the landing that hurts."

Bill felt everything--their safety, his own self-respect and Ernest's confidence in him--rested on this last and different test. He could not conceive of a reason for landing, but Ernest said land, so land it was!

At any rate, his engine was going perfectly, so he was not required to attempt a difficult volplane with a dead engine. It was something to be spared that. Bill picked the likeliest spot in the distant landscape, all immense field with only a few groups of black dots to break its late fall greenness. Bill could not tell the nature of the dots at the height he was flying. They might be bushes or cows. Bill hoped for the latter, and as he came down he saw that he was right. Cows would be likely to scatter, thought Bill, but bushes would be difficult to steer around.

About a hundred feet from the ground he tilted his elevating plane, and the machine, nosing up, glided off at a tangent. Once more making a turn, he came down to the ground, striking it gently, and bobbing along the gra.s.sy surface of the field.

The cows scattered all right. When the machine came to a standstill, swaying back and forth like a giant dragonfly, all that remained of the herd was a glimpse of agitated and wildly waving tails galloping off into the second growth which rimmed the pasture.

Ernest, who had taken many long flights, removed his goggles and smiled at the young pilot as he climbed awkwardly over the side and dropped to the ground. His head whirled, and his eyes felt strained out of his head. With fingers that trembled he undid his helmet and pushed off his goggles.

"Well, boy, I may say that I was never so proud of a friend in my life!

You have done n.o.bly!"

"What did we land for?" asked Bill. "I don't see as we can afford the time."

"We must take time to get some gas and rest you up a little. Don't you worry, son! You are going to drive all night to-night unless--well, why didn't I think of this before? We are 'way past the path of the storm last night, and--"

"Last night!" interrupted Bill. "Was it only last night? I feel as though it was a week ago."

"I was going to say," resumed Ernest, "that we can send a telegram from somewhere around here, and then we can spend the night at a farmhouse, and go on to-morrow. We can reach there to-morrow night, perhaps earlier."

"I don't approve of that," said Bill. "If my mother thought I was 'up in a balloon, boys,' she would about die of fright."

"She gave you permission," reminded Ernest.

"Yes, but of course she never thought anything like this would happen and honestly I wish you wouldn't! I can drive all night all right. That is, if I can get a little rest," he added, as he sensed his aching muscles and realized the tension he had been under.

"I think about so," said Ernest. "I will look around for a farmhouse.

Must be one near on account of all these cows. Oh, goodness! See what's coming!"

Across the field surged a small but excited procession. A lean boy on horseback, without saddle or bridle and guiding the shambling colt he rode by a halter strap, led the van. Behind him, as lean as he, and about seven feet tall, a farmer, whiskered like a cartoon, kept pace easily with the horse. Behind came a roly-poly old lady, her ap.r.o.n strings fluttering in the breeze as she bowled along dragging a fat little girl by each hand. Three dogs barking loudly brought up the rear.

Twenty-five feet from the plane the procession was thrown into confusion by the colt which suddenly discovered what seemed to him to be a giant horsefly, its wings wagging lazily. He had dreamed of just such monsters while snoozing in the shade on hot summer days, but here, oh, here was the creature itself ready to fly up and alight on him!

He did not wait for further investigation, but whirled and left for parts distant where the cows peered through the saplings at the awful intruder in their peaceful pasture. The sod was soft and the young rider, rolling head over heels, was not harmed as he came to a stop close to the boys and sat up, rubbing his red head.

"What's your hurry?" asked Ernest, smiling.

"Nuthin'," said the boy. "Say, is that a airyplane?"

"Sure thing!" replied Ernest. "Do you live near here?"

"Yep!" said the boy. "Let's see you fly in it."

Ernest laughed. "You certainly believe in speeding the parting guest, don't you, young chap? Is this your father coming?"