Читать книгу The Lone Eagle of the Border, or Ted Scott and the Diamond Smugglers - J. W. Duffield - Страница 7
ОглавлениеThe Storm Breaks
For a moment, after the crash of Bagley’s plane, the great throng was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by apprehension. Then there was a concerted rush to the place of the wreck, where they feared to find the pilot maimed or killed.
But a cheer went up when Bagley was seen to emerge from the wreckage and stand, though somewhat waveringly, upon his feet. There was a deep gash in the side of the face, from which blood was flowing freely, but he seemed to have sustained no mortal injury.
Ted Scott was one of the first to reach the scene of the disaster and he threw his arm about Bagley’s shoulder, supporting him while with his handkerchief he sought to stanch the blood.
“Too bad, old man,” said Ted sympathetically. “Any bones broken?”
“No, I think not,” said Bagley faintly, trying to smile but making a failure of it. “But I’m pretty badly shaken up.”
“How did it happen?” asked Ted, after shouting to some of the crowd to bring a doctor.
“Blest if I know,” said Bagley. “Got dizzy and didn’t seem to know what I was doing. Everything went black before me. Tried to hold control, but it got beyond me.”
A doctor pushed his way through the crowd at the moment, to be followed an instant later by two others of the profession, and to them Ted committed his injured comrade.
A hasty but careful examination showed that no serious injuries had been sustained, although the shock would probably keep the aviator under the doctor’s care for a few days to come. The unlucky man was carried from the field in an ambulance that had been summoned for the purpose, the débris of the wreck was cleared away, and the judges’ signal called Ted to the head of the runway to take his turn.
Ted was considerably shaken by the accident, for Bagley was a good friend of his. He had met him during his work in the Mississippi Valley at the time of the flood and had had ample opportunity to learn his qualities of mind and heart. He knew how bitterly Bagley would mourn over the disaster that had put him out of the race, and he sympathized with him deeply.
The shot was fired and the Browning roared down the runway. Half the distance was covered without any sign of its lifting. Ted thought of the extra gasoline that he had directed Jackson to put into the tank. Had that additional load made the plane too heavy to rise?
A little further on, and he felt the trembling of the gallant plane as it sought to leave the ground with its heavy burden. Still it would not lift.
The crowd watched breathlessly. The nerves of the spectators had already been severely tested by the first disaster. Were they to witness a second one that would involve their idol, Ted Scott, the master flier of all time?
And now three-quarters of the course had been covered. At the end of the field was a long line of telegraph and telephone wires. Ted knew that if he did not clear them he was lost. For at the terrific speed he had now attained, a collision with those wires would mean maiming or death.
Still he kept his nerve, and with hands as steady as a rock and brain as cool as ice he jockeyed the control while he murmured to the plane words of encouragement as though it had been a living thing.
At last the Browning lifted, rose slowly but steadily higher and higher, as though yielding to the indomitable will of its master.
Still the result hung in the balance, for now the wires were fearfully near. The crowd knew quite as well as the young aviator that he was gambling with death. Which would win in that terrible wager of which a human life was the stake?
Up and up the Browning went, on and on, closer to the wires. Then, at the last moment, it cleared the obstruction by such a narrow margin that Ted could feel the grazing of the wheels of the plane upon the topmost wire.
A tremendous shout of joy and relief rose like thunder from the great throng as the spectators saw the Browning hurdle the last obstacle and shoot like an arrow into the skies.
Ted mounted until he was a full thousand feet in the air. Then he pushed the joystick, brought the plane to an even keel, and joined the other two contestants as they journeyed around the course, taking care to keep at the distance prescribed by the rules of the contest.
Two people had not joined in the joyous acclamations that hailed Ted’s escape from disaster.
One was Brewster Gale, who had watched breathlessly the threatened catastrophe. His eyes had lighted with savage delight as the collision with the wires had seemed inevitable. They clouded with sour displeasure at the outcome and his jaws clamped down so viciously on the cigar he was smoking that it was bitten in half.
“Just my luck!” he muttered malignantly. “Why couldn’t that fellow have broken his neck? It would have simplified matters and I’d have won all my bets. And it would have been mighty sweet to send the news to Greg and Duck.”
Hardwick, also, from his lofty perch, noted Ted’s narrow escape from catastrophe. He held his breath as Ted approached the wires and expelled that breath in a sigh of disappointment when he saw his rival clear the obstacle.
He cast a glance at several small peculiarly shaped articles that he had stowed in his fuselage.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to use you after all,” he muttered. “I was hoping that it wouldn’t come to that. I’d like that two thousand that Brew has promised me, but I know well enough what risks I’ll have to take to earn it.”
Like three great birds the contending planes swooped up and down, to and fro, in the long-looked-for race that had now commenced.
Ted was in his element. He always felt more at home in the air than on the ground. He was a true bird of passage, and his friends had many a time told him jokingly that they would not be surprised to see him sprouting feathers.
His heart was filled with thankfulness at the fact that he was alive at all. But now that the danger had been overcome, he was glad that he had taken those extra gallons of gas. That margin of fuel might spell the difference between victory and defeat.
With the young aviator’s elation was blended a feeling of sadness that Bagley had fallen out of the race. To be sure, it was to Ted’s advantage, as he had only two rivals to outlast now instead of three. But there was not a selfish bone in Ted Scott’s body, and that consideration did not appeal to him in the slightest degree. He would far rather be beaten than owe victory to an accident to one of his competitors.
There was little that was spectacular to the spectators, now that the start had been made and the contestants had settled down to the steady grind that might last for the better part of two or three days. But there had been plenty of thrills in the take offs, two of which had so nearly resulted in tragedy. In addition, the committee in charge of the arrangements had provided in another part of the field a series of stunts by well known fliers, loop the loops, barrel rolls, falling leaves, and other things to make the spectators gasp, as well as some parachute leaps from dizzy heights. So for two hours longer the crowd had its fill of excitement.
As darkness drew on, the throng began to disperse for supper and soon only a handful was left on the field. But the absence of many was only temporary, and an hour or two later the field began to fill again. Gay parties came in automobiles, the lights from which seemed to Ted Scott, a thousand feet up in the sky, like so many fireflies. A band played popular airs in the stand and the sounds floated upward to the lonely voyagers in the dark abyss of space.
The three planes could scarcely have been discerned had it not been for a giant searchlight installed on the field that sent its beam sweeping across the sky and at intervals picked out each plane in a flood of brilliance. The markings on each plane stood out clearly, showing to whom it belonged, and as each came into view it was greeted with cheers from the partisans of that special pilot.
The cheers were hearty enough in each case, but when Ted’s plane was discerned they became uproarious. There was no doubt in any one’s mind as to who was the favorite of the crowd. Nine out of every ten were pinning their faith to Bromville’s idol.
So far, all the planes had been doing well. The engines were working perfectly with the steady hum that is the sweetest music to the ears of an airman, and the machines were responding readily to the slightest touch of the helmsmen.
The gay sight below and the strains of the band helped make the time pass quickly. Almost before he knew it, Ted saw by a glance at his clock that he had already been eight hours in the air. That at first sight seemed a lot. But it did not seem quite as much when the young aviator reflected that it was less than an eighth of the time he would have to stay in the air if he were to break the record.
Then gradually silence seemed to come down like a cloak over the field. The musicians packed up their instruments and stole away to where bed awaited them. The automobiles began to wind their way out of the gates. Soon only a few spectators were left, and these were friends or backers of the contestants in the race, who were loth to lose sight of their favorites. Only in the judges’ stand, where the referees took turns, so that some of them were always on hand, was there any sign of life and activity. From time to time the searchlight moved across the sky, but lazily.
The three planes in the sky could scarcely be said to be company for each other. From time to time as they passed Ted would wave his hand to Stinson and receive a cordial wave in return. Once, out of good nature, Ted waved to Hardwick, but as that aviator only looked at him gloweringly and made no motion in return, Ted from that time forth left him alone.
There was no moon, but the stars were out, and Ted killed time by studying them as they lay like glittering jewels against the black velvet of the heavens. To a certain extent he felt himself akin to them. They, like himself, were engulfed in space, removed far from the noise and bustle of the world. Many a time they had been his only companions as he had winged his way in the silent watches of the night over hill and valley, desert and ocean.
After a time he was deprived even of these. One by one they went out as though an extinguisher had blotted out their brilliance. Before long all had disappeared and in their stead black masses of cloud piled themselves threateningly over the vault of the heavens.
A storm was menacing. Blacker and blacker grew the sky, relieved only by jagged flashes of lightning that were followed by peals of thunder.
Suddenly Ted felt as though some one had dealt him a heavy blow in the back of the neck and his plane turned almost upside down!
