The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Airplane Boys among the Clouds, by John Luther Langworthy

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Title: The Airplane Boys among the Clouds or, Young Aviators in a Wreck

Author: John Luther Langworthy

Release Date: July 9, 2007 [eBook #22031]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AIRPLANE BOYS AMONG THE CLOUDS***

E-text prepared by Al Haines

THE AIRPLANE BOYS AMONG THE CLOUDS

or,

Young Aviators in a Wreck

by

JOHN LUTHER LANGWORTHY

M. A. Donohue & Company Chicago ——— New York 1912

CONTENTS

Chapter

I. TRYING OUT THE NEW BIPLANE II. A RESCUER FROM THE SKIES III. THE MEN IN THE TOURING CAR IV. SUSPICION V. FIGURING IT ALL OUT VI. AN UNKNOWN ENEMY VII. SEEN FROM THE EAGLES' EYRIE VIII. MYSTERIOUS MR. MARSH AT IT AGAIN IX. STARTLING NEWS OVER THE WIRE X. IN PARTNERSHIP WITH THE CHIEF XI. A NEW ALARM XII. SANDY DROPS SOMETHING XIII. THE CHALLENGE XIV. SOMETHING DOING XV. THE AWAKENING XVI. THE CHIEF MEETS AN OLD FRIEND XVII. GALLANT ANDY XVIII. AT THE FOOT OF THE LIBERTY POLE XIX. THE MYSTERY STILL UNSOLVED XX. THE RIVAL AVIATORS XXI. THE RACE WITH THE STORM XXII. A TERRIBLE MOMENT ON OLD THUNDER TOP XXIII. THE BIRD BOYS' TRIUMPH—CONCLUSION

THE AIRPLANE BOYS AMONG THE CLOUDS

or, Young Aviators in a Wreck

CHAPTER I

TRYING OUT THE NEW BIPLANE

"I tell you, Elephant, it's the Bird boys, and nobody else!"

"But they had a monoplane last summer, Larry; and you can see for yourself it's a biplane out yonder over the lake. So that's why I thought it must be Percy Carberry and his crony, Sandy Hollingshead."

"Shucks! stir up your think-box, Elephant. Get a move on your mind, and look back. Don't you remember Percy lost his old biplane when he took that trip down to South America, and had some trouble with the revolutionists in Colombia?"

"Say, now, that's right. You mean the time Andy Bird found his long-lost father, whose balloon left him a prisoner in such a queer way? Yes, but tell me, where would Frank and Andy Bird get a biplane now?"

"Oh! rats, what ails you, Elephant? Didn't they make the other; and don't you know they've been busy all winter, in that shop Old Colonel Whympers fitted up for them out in the field? And not even such bully good friends as you and me were allowed to take a peep inside. That's what they were working on—building this new biplane, after sending for the parts."

"Don't it just shine like fun in the sunlight, though?" declared the little "runt," who had been nicknamed "Elephant" by his chums, possibly in a spirit of boyish humor, and which name had clung to him ever since.

"It sure does look like a spider-like craft," Larry Geohegan went on. "Just see that white-headed eagle up in the blue sky. I bet you he's looking down, and wondering what sort of thing it is."

"Huh! don't you fool yourself there, Larry," chuckled the other. "That wise old chap knows all about aeroplanes. He's had experience, he has. You forget that last summer, when the race was on between the Bird boys and Percy, to see who could land on the summit of Old Thunder-Top first, from an aeroplane, those same eagles had a nest up there, and tackled the boys for a warm session."

The two lads had come to a halt on the road about half a mile from the borders of Bloomsbury where they lived. From where they stood, holding their fishing rods, and quite a decent catch of finny prizes, they could look out over the beautiful surface of Lake Sunrise, which was over fifteen miles long, and in places as much as three or four wide.

"Mebbe you can tell me, Larry," the smaller boy presently said, "just why Frank keeps sailing around over the lake that way? Suppose he's taking pictures from his biplane?"

"That might be, Elephant," Larry answered, slowly and thoughtfully. "Seems to me I did hear somebody talking about the State wanting to get a map of the lake, with all its many coves and points. But ain't it more dangerous for aviators hanging over water than the shore?"

"That depends," remarked the other boy, whose real name was Fennimore Cooper Small, and who was rather apt to have an exalted idea of his own importance, as do so many undersized people. "If a fellow dropped out of his machine when he was even fifty feet high, he'd be apt to break his neck, or anyhow a leg, if he struck on the land; but in the water he might have a show."

"Look at 'em circling round and round, would you?" Larry went on, his curiosity climbing toward the fever stage. "I'd give a fit now to know what Frank's got in that wise old noddle of his. He ain't the one to do things for nothing, take it from me, Elephant."

"Hi! step out of the way, Larry, if you don't want to get run over!" exclaimed the other, suddenly gripping his companion's sleeve. "Here comes a car, and the driver's tooting his old bazoo to beat the band."

"They're slowing up, don't you see," observed Larry, who had been startled by the other's abrupt warning. "No need to scare a feller like that, Elephant."

"Well, that machine don't belong around here, anyway; and I guess they're tourists doing the lake road course. Lots of 'em come this way just for the view, which they say can't be beat," the other went on, in a low tone; for the touring car had drawn very close by now.

Two men sat in it, one apparently the chauffeur, and the other occupying the commodious seat in the tonneau. The latter was a keen-faced man, with a peculiar eye, that seemed to sparkle and glow; and Larry immediately became aware that he was experiencing a queer sensation akin to a chill, when he returned the gaze of this individual.

Still, the other could look very pleasant when he chose to smile, as was the case immediately after the car came to a halt within five feet of where the two Bloomsbury high school boys stood.

"Looks like you had had pretty good luck, boys," he remarked, smoothly.

"Pretty middlin'," Elephant said, indifferently, as though this were an everyday occurrence with him; when to tell the truth, he and Larry had not done so well all season as on this particular day.

"Guess you know where the old fishing hole lies," laughed the stranger, pleasantly. "Quite a collection too—black bass, perch, 'slickers,' as we used to call the pickerel, and even some big fat sunfish. Many a happy hour have I spent just as you've been doing. And I'll never forget how fine those same fish tasted after I'd cleaned them myself for the frying-pan."

"That's what we do, sir," replied Larry, now beginning to think the stranger rather a nice spoken man.

"My friend and myself were just wondering