Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island Part 18

"That's part of our Scout equipment," answered Phil proudly. "Come on, Scouts, the boss says whack away the right wing."

"Wing?" grunted Fred Nelson, hacking vainly at the tough wood. "Feels more like a drumstick to me!" Although the rods were splintered badly they did not yield readily to the knives. The two trail scouts returned long before the task of clearing away the plane was finished.

"There's a fairly easy way if we go around that hazel thicket and make for the road about a hundred yards south of here, then come back along the road to that cut-over piece by the little creek, go in through there to the river trail, and along that, south again, till we come just about straight across from here," reported the two.

"All right. Now one of you stay here and mount guard over the left-behinds, while the other goes ahead and shows us the way. How's the knife brigade coming on?"

"Ready any time you are. What's next?"

"Line up on each side the stick of the _Skyrocket_, and we'll pick her up and tote her to the beach. Back here, Dave, you and Barney; we need more around the motor--it weighs sixteen ounces to the pound. All set now? Right-o--pick her up. Lead ahead, Frank."

The unwieldy load swayed and threatened to buckle, and more than once they had to set it down and find new holds, but the winding road picked out by Frank Ellery was followed without any serious mishap, until at last they stood on the high bank overlooking the wide stretch of sandy beach beyond which Plum Run rippled along in the sunshine.

"Set her down--gently, now," ordered Jerry. "We'll let her rest here while we bring up our reinforcements--and the rest of our baggage.

Phil, you take three Scouts and go back and bring in the wings. Leave Frank there until you've gathered up every last sc.r.a.p. The rest of us will stay here to figure out some way of getting our plunder shipped safely across to Lost Island."

"Go to it!" urged Phil mockingly. "You've got some job ahead of you.

You figure out how a rowboat's going to float that load across--and let me know about it."

"Yes," challenged a new voice, "you do that, and let me know about it too."

Mr. Fulton had stepped un.o.bserved through the border of trees and brush lining the river path.

"Huh!" bragged Jerry. "If that was the hardest thing we had to do, we could use the _Skyrocket_ for a fireworks celebration to-night!"

CHAPTER XIV

PATCHING THE "SKYROCKET"

But Jerry gave no explanation of the method he intended to use in transporting the unwieldy bulk across the narrow stretch of water.

While Phil and his helpers disappeared, to bring up the rest of the aeroplane framework, he set his crew to work. The Scout camp, which was something like a hundred feet north, yielded a couple of trappers'

axes; with these he soon had two stout saplings cut and trimmed to an even length of thirty feet. In the larger end of each he cut a deep notch, while to the smaller ends he nailed a good-sized block, the nails found in an emergency locker on the _Big Four,_ both it and the Boy Scout boat having been brought down and hauled up on the beach.

The two boats were now laid side by side, twenty odd feet apart. Across the bows he laid the one sapling, across the sterns, the other, so that blocks and notches fitted down over the far edges of the boats. Mr.

Fulton at once caught Jerry's idea and nodded his head approvingly.

"All right," he said, "if the saplings will hold up the weight."

"They don't need to," explained Jerry. "The _Skyrocket_ will reach over to the inner edges of the boats; I measured the distance with my eye.

All the sticks do is to hold the two ships together."

Phil's crew made two trips, on the second one bringing in Frank, who had wrapped up a weird collection of broken-off parts in a piece of varnish-stiffened silk torn from one of the planes.

It did not take long to load the "body" of the _Skyrocket_ onto the saplings, the boats being still on sh.o.r.e. Then, all pushing steadily, the strange double craft was slowly forced across the sand and into the shallow sh.o.r.e-water of Plum Bun. Both boats settled dangerously near to the point of shipping water, so it was fortunate that the river was as calm as a millpond. At that, there was no hope that anyone could get in to row the boats.

"Strip for action!" shouted Phil. "The boss says we're to swim across.

Likewise, the last one in's a rotten egg."

The splashing that ensued, as ten youngsters plunged in, almost in a body, nearly swamped the boats. After his first shout of alarm, Mr.

Fulton waved his hand gayly and shouted:

"Go to it, fellows. If the doctor didn't have my arm in a splint I'd be right with you."

"All right, Scouts," a.s.sented Jerry, "but go mighty easy."

They were all good swimmers, and with hardly a ripple they propelled the _Skyrocket_ slowly but steadily toward the sh.o.r.e of Lost Island. As they drew near they saw that they had spectators on both sides, for awaiting them was the girl Phil and Jerry had seen not so long before, but under different circ.u.mstances. Now she waved her hand encouragingly.

"Oh, Liz-z-i-e!" shouted Phil, "where's the meat-axe?"

For answer she caught up a pebble and sent it skimming in his direction, so close that Phil felt no shame in ducking, even if it did bring a great shout of laughter from his companions.

But it was evident that "Lizzie" or Elizabeth Billings, as they soon came to call her, bore no ill will as she came down to the water's edge and awaited their coming. But the boys had no intention of making a landing so long as she was there, and Jerry was turning over in his mind just how to ask her to withdraw, when she apparently came to the conclusion that her presence was neither needed nor desired. At any rate, she left the beach abruptly and disappeared along the island path, only stopping to send a hearty peal of laughter in their direction.

"Next time across I guess well wear our clothes," snickered Budge. "The young lady isn't used to welcoming savages to her lonely isle."

"Try a little of your savage strength on that rod you're leaning on; n.o.body suggested that this affair was a lawn party," Phil reminded him.

"Come on, fellows, let's get the old _Skyrocket_ up out of the damp."

After some maneuvering they decided to unload from the water, as the beach shelved gradually. Within five minutes they were ready to make for the other sh.o.r.e, being compelled to swim the boats back again, as no one had remembered to throw in the oars.

This time their load was hardly worth calling one so far as weight was concerned, and four of the boys piled in, to row the boats across, nearly capsizing the whole arrangement in their efforts to outspeed each other. This time they were fully dressed. One of the boys brought the two boats back, and now all the party crossed over, with the exception of poor Budge, who again was the one slated to stay behind and guard camp. Perhaps his disappointment was only half genuine, however, as he was none too keen about the heavy job of freighting the wreckage to the center of Lost Island.

Tod was awaiting them when the last boatload beached on the island. It was easy to see that he had been greatly worried over the nonappearance of his father, and the bandages in which Mr. Fulton was literally swathed were not calculated to set his mind at ease. But Mr. Fulton's laughing version of the "accident," as he called it, soon relieved Tod's fears.

They made short work of the trip to the long, low shed Phil and Jerry had seen on their exploration of the island, and which they now learned was a "hangar," a place specially fitted for taking care of the aeroplane. When the big sliding door was thrown open the boys saw that inside was a complete machine shop, with lathes, benches, drills and punches, the whole being operated by power from the gasoline engine in the corner.

"The first thing to do," announced Mr. Fulton, "is to understand just what we're driving at. So I'll explain, as briefly as possible, just what this contraption of mine is. It's simply a device that enables me to reverse the propellers instantly at high speed. But that isn't all.

The same lever throws in another set of propellers--lifters, we call them--just above where the pilot sits. They act as a kind of counterbalance. Now these planes, or wings, act in the same manner as the surfaces of a box kite, and aside from this device of mine, which has some details you won't need to know about, and a slight improvement I've made in the motor itself, the _Skyrocket_ isn't any different from the ordinary biplane, which you all know about, of course."

"Of course we don't," blurted Jerry.

"Of course we do," exclaimed Phil. "There isn't one of the Flying Eagles who hasn't made half a dozen model flying machines, and Barney here won a prize with a glider he made last spring in the manual training department of the high school. But we've all studied up about aeroplanes--that's why we call ourselves the _Flying_ Eagles."

"Another reason," chuckled Mr. Fulton, "why there ought to be a bunch of Boy Scouts in Watertown. How about it, Jerry?"

"Leave it to us. We'll challenge you Eagles to a tournament next summer, and you'd better brush up your scouting if you don't want to come off second best. Is that a go, Tod?"

"That's two go's--one for each of us."

"Well," suggested Mr. Fulton, "those of you who don't know the first principles of flying go into the second squad. You go to the office--that's the railed off s.p.a.ce yonder--where you'll find plenty of books for your instruction. As soon as I get gang number one properly started I'll come back and give you a course of sprouts."

Jerry and Dave and Frank went to the "office," from where they heard Mr. Fulton putting Tod in charge of one group, while he took the rest under his personal direction.

"First off," he advised, "we'll take the _Skyrocket_ all apart. All the broken or strained parts we'll throw over here in this box. Anything that's too big we'll pile neatly on the floor. I want to know as soon as possible just what I'll have to get from the city. I can call on the blacksmith shop at Watertown for some of the hardest welding, and Job Western did most of the carpentering in the first place, so I know where to go for my trusses and girders. Examine every bolt and nut--nothing is to be used that shows the slightest strain or defect.