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Around the World in Ten Days

by Chelsea Curtis Fraser · English · Gutenberg #19907 · 392,025 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Around the World in Ten Days

Author: Chelsea Curtis Fraser


        
Release date: November 23, 2006 [eBook #19907]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19907

Credits: E-text prepared by Al Haines


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AROUND THE WORLD IN TEN DAYS ***


E-text prepared by Al Haines



AROUND THE WORLD IN TEN DAYS

by

CHELSEA CURTIS FRASER

Author of "Work-a-Day Heroes," "Secrets of the Earth,"
"Boys' Book of Battles," "Boys' Book of Sea Fights,"
"The Young Citizens Own Book," etc.







The World Publishing Company
Cleveland, Ohio ------ New York City

Copyright, MCMXXII, By
The World Syndicate Publishing Company
Printed in the United States of America




PREFACE

In the infancy of aviation, the early 1920's,
no one dreamed that the close of the decade
would see it firmly and permanently
established--a leader among the nation's industries.
Heavier-than-air flight is perhaps the most
amazing contribution of the 20th century.

It is easy to thrill to the seeming marvels of
our own times, but only the short-sighted thinker
believes in the perfection of present scientific
progress.  The 300-mile-an-hour airplane which
Fraser conceived in this book for the speed of
the Sky-Bird II was little more than so many
words when he wrote it. . . . today we have
400-mile-an-hour fighting planes.  Today we have
in this country an intricate highway system, but
perhaps within your own lifetime our highways,
and the automobiles which skim over them, will
be laughed at as obsolete and useless.

Thus it is that "the seemingly impossible of
the fiction of today becomes outdone by the facts
of tomorrow," as the author aptly phrased it.

In 1920 the idea of going around the world in
ten days was as preposterous as that projected
by Jules Verne in 1873 when he wrote _Around
the World in Eighty Days_.  But time has a way
of hurling ridicule back as effectively as a
boomerang.  For we have seen and marvelled at the
shattering not only of the mythical eighty-day
record but even the ten-day record, as progress
wends its ceaseless, ambitious, difficult and
almost fantastic way through the years.

And so it will be gratifying and, no doubt,
amazing to many to read this book and realize
the advancement made in aviation since this story
was written by Mr. Fraser, and how many of the
ideas he prophesied for airplane advancement
that have materialized in less than a score of years.

Around-the-world flyers, even the most recent,
have all flown more or less northerly routes, not
following the equatorial belt, which is, as we all
know, the earth's greatest circumference.  It is
this course that our four young heroes take in
Sky-Bird II, a plane designed and constructed
by themselves, containing many features that
aeronautics now takes for granted, and some not
yet realized, which are, nevertheless, "within the
scope of mechanical science," as Fraser says.

So, it is our opinion, young readers, that in
addition to enjoying an exciting story, you will
benefit by carefully reading the technical
passages, and in doing so, learn to observe your
present-day surroundings with a greater
perspective--thus adding infinitely greater interest
to your view of the world today!

THE PUBLISHERS.




CONTENTS

CHAPTER

      I  PAUL AND BOB
     II  THE BROTHERS' INVENTION
    III  THE SUCCESSFUL MODEL
     IV  PLANNING A BIG AIRPLANE
      V  AN AIR RACE FINISH AND A CHALLENGE
     VI  THE MISSING BLUE-PRINTS
    VII  WHO'S AT THE WINDOW?
   VIII  THE SKY-BIRD II
     IX  THE TEST FLIGHT
      X  FINAL PREPARATIONS
     XI  OFF FOR PANAMA
    XII  FIGHTING A DEVIL-FISH
   XIII  THE STRANGE AIRPLANE
    XIV  A FAMILIAR FACE
     XV  THE START
    XVI  TRICKED BY RIVALS
   XVII  ACROSS THE ATLANTIC
  XVIII  AN IRRITATING DELAY
    XIX  SAVED BY THE SEARCHLIGHT
     XX  A JUNGLE ADVENTURE
    XXI  THE DOUBLE LOOP
   XXII  ABOVE THE CLOUDS
  XXIII  BOMBED BY ROCKS
   XXIV  RIDING AN AIRPLANE'S TAIL
    XXV  ENGULFED IN A VOLCANO'S DUST
   XXVI  IN AUSTRALIA
  XXVII  PAUL VERSUS PETE
 XXVIII  A MIX-UP IN DATES
   XXIX  A FLYING RESCUE
    XXX  AN ALARMING DISCOVERY
   XXXI  THE FINISH




Around the World in Ten Days


CHAPTER I

PAUL AND BOB

"Did you say this big Air Derby around the world takes place this
coming summer, Bob?"

"So dad told me at the breakfast table this morning, Paul.  The plans
have just been completed.  He said full details would be in to-day's
papers."

"And the afternoon edition is out now, for there's a newsie just ahead
of us who is calling out the _Daily Independent_.  That's your father's
newspaper, too."

"It will be in there sure pop, Paul."

"Then I'm going to get a copy right now."

The two youths, who but a few moments before had come out of the broad
doors of the Clark Polytechnic Institute along with a noisy throng of
other students, paused when they reached the newsboy in question, and
the taller of the pair bought a newspaper which he shoved into an inner
pocket of his raincoat.

"We'll look at this in the car on our way home; a fellow can't do any
reading in a storm like this," said the purchaser.  "Let's hurry up a
bit, Bob; I'm so eager to see what it says about that Derby that I can
hardly wait to get to the station.  Say, just think of it--a race
around the world by air!  Won't that be great?"

"I'll say so, Paul old boy!  They ought to smash all existing records.
You know that a man named Mears made the circuit in thirty-five days
about seven years ago, and he had to depend on slow steam trains and
steamships, aided by a naphtha-launch."

"That's true, Bob.  Now that we have planes we ought to do a lot
better.  But the big oceans are the trouble for aircraft.  The Atlantic
has been crossed by Alcock and Brown in a Vimy-Vickers biplane, and
also by our NC-4 flying-boat under the command of Lieutenant Read, and
by the big English dirigible R-34; but the Pacific, with its greater
breadth, has seemed so impossible that it has never been attempted."

"Why should it seem impossible?"

"Because they can't carry sufficient gasoline to cross the Pacific."

"But how about the islands?"

"The majority are not level enough to permit a landing, and others are
too widely scattered.  I have made quite a study of transoceanic flight
since Harry Hawker and his partner, Grieve, made their unsuccessful
attempt last spring to cross the Atlantic in a Sopwith machine, and for
my part I can't see how this proposed Derby around the world can all be
done by air, when no machine has ever yet been able to hop the Pacific."

"Well, Paul, we'll soon be at the station out of this storm, and then
we can see what the paper says about it," was the philosophical
conclusion of his companion.

With that they hurried on down the street, bowing their heads to ward
off the sharp sleet as much as possible, while they gripped their
school-books under their arms.  They were a splendid-looking pair of
young Americans, probably about eighteen years old, and the manner in
which they swung along through the disagreeable drizzle, paying scant
attention to it as they laughed and talked, showed them to be full of
that boundless energy and gaiety of spirits which only perfect health
and participation in athletics can bestow.

As Paul Ross and Robert Giddings approached the next corner, a young
man with umbrella held low in front of him hurried around it and ran
into a small Italian girl who was carrying a basket of fruit.  She was
staggered by the collision; her basket was knocked from her arm, and
the oranges began to roll in every direction.  The child broke into
tears, but the cause of her misfortune only paused long enough to say
angrily, "Confound you, you careless little beggar!  Why don't you
watch where you are going?" and hurried on his way.

"Say, Paul, did you see the way that swarthy-faced chap used that
little girl?" cried Bob indignantly.

"I certainly did," was the no less indignant answer.  "That lazy dog
ought to be horse-whipped.  Let's help the child."

Both boys fell to work with a will, rescued the escaping oranges, and
tucked them back in their owner's basket.  Then, with her grateful
thanks ringing in their ears, they hurried on once more.

After they had gone a few steps, Paul Ross observed:

"Bob, I've seen that fellow before.  That was Pete Deveaux.  He used to
be an Air Mail pilot on the same run as my brother John, but was
discharged for drunkenness.  Since that he has blamed John, and has
written him several threatening letters, but is too cowardly to face
him."

By this time they had reached the West 137th Street station of the
suburban railroad which runs between the metropolis and various shore
towns along the picturesque Hudson.  They were just in time to catch a
train, and found a comfortable seat in a rear coach.  Then Paul brought
forth the newspaper he had purchased.  What they sought was found on
the very first page, prominently displayed under a black-faced heading.

"Read it aloud, Paul," suggested Bob, and his friend proceeded to do
so.  The article was to the effect that the Aero Club of America, in
conjunction with eminent aviation associations of the kind in Europe
and Asia, had planned to stimulate interest in flying by holding an
aircraft race around the world, which would start on the morning of
July 4th.  All contestants must be at least twenty-one years of age,
and furnish an entrance fee of two hundred dollars.  They might use any
type of aircraft they chose, and could carry as many assistants as they
wished, even utilizing trains or steamships, if not less than
three-fourths of their journey were made by air; and they must stop at
least once in each of four continents, and cross the Atlantic and
Pacific oceans.  Aside from these provisions, the selection of route
was left entirely to each contestant.  Then followed an imposing list
of names of well-known flyers who, it was said, had signified their
intention of competing.  The article wound up with the statement that
prizes aggregating a million dollars would be offered the winners.

"One million dollars!" exclaimed Bob Giddings.  "Paul, old man, you'd
better go in for this!"

Paul Ross's eyes sparkled, but the next moment he laughed and shook his
head.  "I surely would like to," said he, "but there are just three
little things in the way of it."

"I suppose you need a machine for one thing?"

"Yes--and you must admit that's a good-sized item.  Second, I need two
hundred dollars to enter--something I don't happen to have, and
something I know mother can't spare in such a hazard.  Third, I need
three years added to my age in order to be eligible."

"It does look rather hopeless for you, that's a fact," admitted Bob.
"That second handicap might be overcome with my father's help, but the
other two are real obstacles."

"It's mighty nice of you and your father, Bob, to wish to help me out
in this fashion," said Paul; "but, as you state, the other drawbacks
cannot be swept aside so easily.  Perhaps later on, another 'round the
world Air Derby will be pulled off, and I shall have a chance to enter
it."

"Well, if you do, don't forget to count me in as an assistant,"
declared his friend.  "Nothing would please me better than to make a
trip like that with you, Paul."

"You certainly shall be welcome if the time ever comes.  By the way,
Bob, John and I have designed a new type of monoplane in our spare
time, and for the past two months I have been busy making a three-foot
model of this.  I hope to finish it in a day or two, and I want you to
go with me over to the old fair-grounds next Saturday afternoon and
give it a test flight, if you will."

Bob Giddings was all interest at once, and plied his friend with many
questions concerning his new model, many others of which he had in
times past helped Paul fly with the keenest delight.  The truth is,
Paul Ross and his brother John, the latter a pilot in the government
Air Mail service, were known all over the State of New York as makers
of the best-flying model airplanes to be found anywhere.  Ever since
they were small boys in grammar school, the brothers had been
constructing miniature monoplanes, biplanes, and seaplanes, which they
had pitted against the best product of other lads in the neighborhood
and surrounding towns, without once meeting defeat.  Many of these
specimens of youthful ingenuity they still preserved, suspended in
bedroom and attic, where they were a never-ending source of interest to
visitors at the Ross homestead in the outskirts of Yonkers.

The war had called John into the aviation service of his country, but
Paul had still continued his experiments in making tiny airplanes,
getting his friend Robert Giddings, who lived in a fine house on
Shadynook Hill, to assist him in the flying.  Thrown together by their
mutual love for mechanics, and being in the same classes all through
high-school, Paul and Bob had formed a strong attachment for each
other, although the latter's home was far more pretentious than the
former's, since Paul's mother was a widow in only moderately
comfortable circumstances, while Bob's father was the editor and owner
of the _Daily Independent_, one of the leading evening newspapers of
New York City.

When John returned from the war it was with an incurable passion for
flying, and within a few months he had re-entered the service of his
country in the peaceful but dangerous work of carrying Uncle Sam's
mails between Washington and New York in a big Martin bomber.  He found
that his younger brother's love for aviation had also developed, as
well as his skill in constructing and flying model airplanes.  Some of
these recent ones were so novel in design and of such wonderfully
ingenious workmanship, that John, who had won unusual honors as an
aviator on the French front, was quite thunderstruck, and determined to
encourage Paul's talents in this line in every way he could.
Therefore, when the boy graduated from the Yonkers high school, and
expressed a wish to take up a special course in aeronautical
engineering at Clark Polytechnic Institute, John backed him up, and the
mother, who would have preferred a less hazardous profession for her
younger son, sighingly consented.

Paul's chum, Robert Giddings, had also gone to Clark Polytechnic upon
leaving high school, his ambition being to become an electrical
engineer.  Thus both boys continued to be thrown in daily contact.  It
was their habit to go into the city to school each morning in the sedan
with Mr. Giddings; but as he left the city late in the afternoon they
usually took the train back.

As the friends now parted, Bob Giddings' last words were: "Don't forget
to get that new model airplane done by Saturday, Paul.  I'm crazy to
see it."

"I'll be ready for you," was Paul's assurance; "but remember to keep
this under your hat.  It's to be a secret test, you know."

"Trust me," said Bob.




CHAPTER II

THE BROTHERS' INVENTION

When Paul Ross reached home that afternoon, it was to find someone
there whom he had not expected to see.  A tall, broad-shouldered young
man, with a bronzed face and pleasant blue eyes, sat in the
living-room, talking to his mother.

Paul rushed forward and joyfully grasped his brown hand.  "Why, John!"
he exclaimed, "I didn't expect to find you here!"

"Of course you didn't, Buddy," was the smiling response of the young
man, who was wont to call his younger brother by this affectionate
war-mate term.  "The fact is, as I was just telling mother, two days
ago I didn't know myself that I would be anywhere at this hour except
speeding through the air between New York and Washington on my usual
mail run in my trusty old Martin-bird.  As it is, Buddy, it looks now
as if neither you nor I would ever handle her controls again."  There
was a note of sadness in John's voice as he said this.

"Why, what's the matter, John?" asked Paul quickly.

"It's this way, lad: You know I told you and mother a couple of weeks
ago, when I was here on my last regular lay-over, that Congress was
talking about cutting a big slice out of the Air Mail appropriation, in
order to reduce expenses.  Well, the upshot of it all is, they made the
cut, and not having enough money to carry on the service as it has
been, the head of the Air Mail has ordered the abandonment of all
flying divisions except the main line between New York and San
Francisco.  Only those pilots will be kept.  So that's why I am here."

"Won't they take you on again soon, John?" asked Mrs. Ross.

"I fear not, mother," replied her elder son, shaking his head soberly.
"Our field-superintendent did say that he would give me the first
opening in the transcontinental line, since my records lead the bunch,
and he even offered to displace one of the boys on that route and put
me in his place, but--"

"But you refused," interrupted Paul, with conclusive pride in his big
brother.

John grinned.  "Well, put it that way if you like, Buddy," said he;
"anyhow, as I said before, here I am.  Some chap may quit or 'go
West'--you know a round dozen of the poor chaps have been killed in the
last year--and that may let me back in again.  But I won't wait for it;
I'll get after some of the commercial flying companies next week and
see if I can't land a berth with them.  I simply can't think of working
on the ground.  I guess I should have been born a bird, mother, instead
of a human being, I love flying so much."

"I really believe you would be safer if you were a bird, John,"
asserted Mrs. Ross, with an uneasy smile.  "Birds have no motors to
fail them, no fire to ignite and burn them up, as our present
airplanes.  How many of your own unfortunate associates can lay their
untimely deaths to either one of these causes!  It was only the last
time you were here that you were telling Paul and me about the terrible
fall Howard Smith had because his motor stopped, and how his machine
ignited, and how he was burned past recognition."

"I know," said the veteran airman; "those things will happen at times,
mother, even with the most careful fellows.  The time will come, I
think, and very soon, when stalled motors can be restarted in the air,
and when accidentally ignited fuel will burn itself out with no harm to
either the machine or its occupants.  The fact is, Paul and I have some
ideas now as to how to overcome those very troubles, along with other
improvements, and the first chance we get we are going to build an
airplane along these lines and put it to the test, aren't we, Buddy?"

"We surely are," was Paul's enthusiastic response.  "One of these fine
days, mother, when we get our patents and sell them, you shall live in
as fine a home as the Giddings's over on Shadynook Hill, and when you
wish to go into the city to do any shopping, John or I will take you in
a beautiful sedan airplane which will be safer than an automobile, and
which will be guaranteed not to raise a dust or wear out tires."

Mrs. Ross laughed heartily at the glowing picture her second son had
drawn, more because he spoke with such seriousness, and because John
too wore a matter-of-fact look during the prophecy.

"Oh, I have some great dreamers here in this little family," she said,
as she arose to resume her household duties.  "We will hope that some
of your dreams come true."

Her sons laughed good-naturedly; then Paul turned to his brother.
"Come on down in the basement, John," he said; "I wish to show you our
latest miniature model, the Sky-Bird.  Another day's work ought to
finish it."

John followed him downstairs.  In one corner of the large basement was
a good-sized workbench, lighted by two windows, and equipped with
several neatly-arranged shelves, which now held a divers collection of
chisels, bits, countersinks, etc.  In a splendid oak cabinet attached
to the wall above was a more extensive array of wood- and metal-working
tools, some of which the brothers had bought with money earned at odd
jobs when they were still small boys.  Since, they had added to their
set from time to time, as they needed this tool or that, until now few
professional mechanics could boast of a finer assortment.

Suspended from a hook directly over the bench was a beautiful six-foot
model of a racy-looking monoplane of peculiar and striking design.  It
was glistening in several coats of spar-varnish, and so light and
delicate was its spidery frame that, as John reached out to take it in
his hand, the exhalation of his breath set it swaying away from him.

"My word, it's a light boy all right!" exclaimed John admiringly, as he
carefully took hold of the pretty thing.  "That's just the feature
we've tried to get, too, Buddy,--lightness."  He looked closely at the
long, graceful pair of wings, which were of an unusual thickness and a
slight upward thrust like those of a bird, and which widened batlike as
they ran back and joined the rear fuselage or body of the craft.  "Have
you put the helium-gas in these wings yet, Paul, as we planned?  I see
you have installed the valves.  There's a valve in the after-fuselage,
too."

"The wings and fuselage are both filled," said Paul; "that is what
makes the Sky-Bird so light.  If you had brought more helium the last
time you were here, I could have pumped in twice the quantity, I think,
and that would have made her so light she would rise of her own accord,
I really believe.  As it is, she now weighs less than a half-ounce.  I
had the scales on her yesterday."

John shared his brother's enthusiasm.  "Fine!" he cried, with sparkling
eyes.  "Why, that's almost a neutral condition, as she is!  Buddy, if
we can apply this principle to a full-size machine--and I don't know
why we can't--we shall have solved the biggest problem facing airplane
designers to-day.  With a machine weighing only a trifle more than her
load of fuel and baggage, she will not only fly a lot faster but go a
lot farther, with a given supply of fuel, than the present-day planes.
And what is more, she could attain good speed with a single engine of
reasonable power, where now many machines are handicapped with the
burdensome weight of an extra power-plant.  When will she be ready to
test out?"

"I had planned to give her a trial in the old fair-grounds Saturday
afternoon," said Paul.  "I've asked Bob Giddings to go along."

"That's all right; Bob is a fine lad," said John; "but since you have
set the trial for Saturday afternoon, and Bob's father is usually at
home at that time, why don't you ask him to view the affair also?  I'm
sure he would enjoy it.  He's a great sportsman, you know, like most
newspaper men, and considerably interested in aeronautics."

"I had not thought of it; I'll do it," was the prompt response of Paul.
"But we must warn him to silence, John.  Whatever happens, we don't
wish this to get into the _Daily Independent_."

"I'd say not," rejoined the former Air Mail pilot sententiously.
"Mum's the word; we've got something here, Buddy.  Unless I'm greatly
mistaken we'll be consulting with the Patent Office at Washington much
sooner than little mother anticipates."  He poked Paul in the ribs as
he spoke, and both young men gave vent to a low chuckle of intense
satisfaction.  It was an even greater pleasure to look forward to
surprising their mother than to astonishing the world and winning its
plaudits.

As good an airplane mechanic and flyer as John Ross was, his younger
brother was little behind him in the matter of skill in handling a
modern machine.  It had been John's habit to return to Yonkers every
two weeks for a week's lay-off, as customary with other pilots in the
Air Mail service.  On these occasions he had arrived in his plane, and
during the term of his stay had often taken Paul up into the air for
pleasure flights, as well as his chum Bob Giddings.  Both boys were
keen students, and it was not long before John could trust them to
operate his big Martin with every confidence.  Once, indeed, he and
Paul had been caught over Long Island Sound in a bad storm, when the
latter was in the pilot's seat, but Paul had brought the craft through
like a veteran, winning his brother's unstinted praise and undying
respect.




CHAPTER III

A SUCCESSFUL MODEL

Mr. Giddings was glad to accept the invitation to the trial flight.  He
and his son met the Ross boys at the old race-course Saturday
afternoon.  This immense, level field, with its one-mile oval and great
empty sheds, at one time had been the county's boasted fair-grounds,
but two years prior to the opening of our story it had been sold to Mr.
Giddings, whose residence property stretched down the side of Shadynook
Hill and joined it.  New fair-grounds had then been established in
another and more centrally located section of the district.  In the old
grounds the boys of the neighborhood now went to fly their kites and
model airplanes, to hold impromptu bicycle and foot races, and to play
tag and hide-and-go-seek in the cavernous sheds and around the numerous
sagging stables.

It was late in the afternoon--just before dusk, when the winds would be
at their quietest, and others not likely to be present--that our
friends arrived at the field.  There was not a soul to be seen.  Paul,
who had carried his precious Sky-Bird, freed it from the wrapper and
held it up for Mr. Giddings to see.  The night before he and John had
put the finishing touches to the delicate structure by adding another
coat of varnish and attaching the little rubber-tired aluminum wheels
to the axle.

As Paul now held it up before the gaze of the great newspaper man, Mr.
Giddings made no effort to restrain his admiration.  "What a little
beauty!" he cried.  "Why, it's almost a perfect mechanical
representation of a bird!"

"Isn't she a dandy, dad?" put in Bob, his eyes snapping.

"The Sky-Bird is really more of a bird than you may think, Mr.
Giddings," declared Paul.

"Yes," added his brother John.  "As you probably know, sir, a bird gets
its great buoyancy from the fact that every bone in its body is hollow;
in flight it fills these bones with a very light gas, which is formed
by an action of its lungs in drawing in air.  We have adapted this
principle in the wings and fuselage of this little machine.  They are
airtight and filled with compressed helium-gas, which is
non-inflammable and nearly as light as its highly volatile rival,
hydrogen-gas."

"Hydrogen-gas is surely a dangerous commodity around fire," said Mr.
Giddings.  "I understand that when the big English dirigible R-34 came
across the Atlantic last summer she was filled with hydrogen, and that
her commander and crew all wore felt-soled shoes, so that they would
not by any chance cause a spark when they walked over her metal floors
and ladders just beneath her great bag."

"That is true," vouched John Ross.  "One little spark reaching any of
that stored hydrogen would have torn that great dirigible into
fragments in one gigantic blast."

"We have handled recent newspaper copy containing mention of this new
gas, helium; but I must confess I am in the dark regarding its nature
and source," said Mr. Giddings.  "What is it, anyway?"

"I will refer your question to Paul here," replied John.  "He is the
one who worked out this idea of using helium in an airplane and giving
it the best properties of a dirigible without any of the dirigible's
handicap of clumsiness and excessive wind resistance.  He has been
studying the properties of helium in school, also the flight of birds."

"Well, not to get into a tiresome discourse, as Professor Herron would
say, I shall make this description very rudimentary," said Paul, with a
smile.  "During a total eclipse of the sun in India in 1868, Lockyer, a
British astronomer, saw in the spectroscope a bright, yellow line of
light around the sun.  He called it _helium_, after the Greek word for
sun.  So much for him.  Twenty-seven years later an element was found
on earth in natural-gas in Kansas, which gave the same bright, yellow
light viewed through the spectrum.  The people, finding it would not
burn, disgustedly let millions of barrels of this valuable element
escape into the air, before a scientist told them that it was of untold
value for balloon and airship purposes.  It is thought the gas comes
from radium deposits.  It has never been found in any country except
the United States, and only here in Kansas and northern Texas, where it
occurs in sands from 14,000 to 16,000 feet deep.  Our government is now
securing about 50,000 cubic feet of helium per day, refusing to sell it
to foreign countries, as it is all needed here, besides which it might
be used against us in case of another war."

While Paul had been telling this, Mr. Giddings had been busy jotting
something down in shorthand in a notebook.

"Pardon me, Paul," he said, looking up with a smile, "but this is so
mighty interesting that, before I knew it, my old-time reportorial
instinct had gotten the best of me, and I found my pencil at work.  If
you have no objection I should like to use this in the columns of the
_Daily Independent_ some time when it seems to fit in."

"No objection at all, sir," assured Paul.

Mr. Giddings began twirling the little twelve-inch two-bladed propeller
at the nose of the model airplane.  "What do you use for power to turn
this propeller?" he asked, after admiring its perfect proportions for a
moment.  "I don't see any rubber-bands, such as Robert here has always
used on his little machines."

John deftly lifted off the thin veneer hood of the airplane, and
disclosed a very small four-cylindered rotary pneumatic engine of
bewitching simplicity and lightness, which a baby could have held out
in its pudgy palm.

"Paul has worked this little motor out of aluminum and brass and steel,
from odds and ends," said John.

"With more or less help on the part of my elder brother," interjected
Paul.

"Well, perhaps with a little," admitted John, "more suggestive than
otherwise."

"What sets it going?" questioned Bob, curiously.

"The fuselage is divided into three sections," said Paul.  "The forward
section contains the engine here; the rear section is an airtight
chamber containing helium; and the central section is also an airtight
chamber, but contains ordinary air which has been pumped into it
through a valve, using the bicycle pump John is carrying, until it is
under strong pressure.  When I turn this little valve an outlet is
opened for the air to escape by a tube into branches communicating with
each of these four cylinders.  This works the tiny pistons, much the
same as gas in a gasoline-motor, and they turn the little crank-shaft
to which they are connected, and the crank-shaft in turn revolves the
propeller on its end."

"Wonderfully simple!" Mr. Giddings exclaimed.  "Wonderfully ingenious,
too!  Is this your invention, young men?"

"Partly, sir," replied Paul.  "I understand, a company in New York is
making a somewhat similar pneumatic motor for model airplanes, but John
and I have made some radical improvements, to our notion.  To-day's
test will tell the story."

"Let's see the propeller spin 'er up once for the fun of it," suggested
Bob.  "It won't do any harm, will it?  Dad and I will hold on to the
airplane."

"Get a good grip then," warned John Ross, "for you will find there's a
terrific pull to the little rascal.  Paul and I tried her in that
fashion early this morning down in the basement."

Bob and his father secured firm holds of the little Sky-Bird, one on
each side, where the propeller could not strike them.

"Ready?" asked Paul, with a smile.

"Ready!" came the answer in unison.

Paul touched the little valve in the tank chamber of the fuselage.  The
next moment there was a quiver, and then the propeller began fairly to
hum.  A strong, steady gust of air began to blow in the faces of the
Giddingses, while they had to hang on grimly in order to keep their
little charge from jumping out of their arms and dashing away into the
air.  For fully three minutes the propeller continued to whirl with
undiminished speed, then slowly it began to slow up, and finally
stopped.

Both Mr. Giddings and his son wiped their hot brows as they handed the
plane over to its makers.

"Whew!" said Bob, "that little mule has got a lot of pull to her."

"That she has," supplemented his father.  "What sort of material is her
frame made of?"

"Balsa-wood," said John.

"I never heard of that.  Is it something new?"

"Yes,--to the arts of civilization, but I presume it has been used by
the Indians of Ecuador, where it grows, for scores of years in the
making of rafts, for which it is particularly well adapted.  The tree
looks much like our southern cottonwood, and the wood apparently has no
grain.  It has a surprising toughness and strength, and is a trifle
over half the weight of cork, weighing only 7.8 pounds per cubic foot,
while the same sized piece of cork weighs 13.7 pounds."

"Has this wood ever been used in constructing full-sized airplanes?"
asked Mr. Giddings.

"I think not; but Paul and I believe it will be the coming wood for
them," said John with enthusiasm.  "We have used it plain on this
machine.  On a large airplane it ought to be reinforced with transverse
sections of very thin spruce laid latticewise.  That would add
considerably to its natural strength, and increase the total weight
very little."

"H'm, h'm!" said the great newspaper publisher, "this is very
interesting, I am sure.  Now let us see how this little affair behaves
itself in the air."

Paul and his brother led the way out into one corner of the big field,
so as to bring what slight breeze might spring up into the head of the
airplane, explaining that machines without a pilot would keep a better
keel under such conditions.  John then carefully attached the
bicycle-pump and recharged the air-tank, following which he took out
his watch to time the flight.  Mr. Giddings and Bob also took out their
watches.

Paul set the little Sky-Bird down on the hard earth, in a spot where
there was no grass or other obstacle, and with his finger on the
air-valve, said: "Practically all rubber-band motors require starting
the model airplane off by picking it up and tossing it away from you up
into the air; but I think this machine will rise from the ground like a
large plane, on account of its great lightness and unusual power.  We
will now see if I am right."

To tell the truth, this being the first time he had really tried the
Sky-Bird in a flight, Paul was nervous as he turned the valve, removed
his hands from the graceful little plane, and straightened up.

With a whirr like the wings of a partridge as it is flushed out of the
grass by the huntsman's dog, the small machine shot forward a few feet
over the smooth ground, then gracefully arose in the air and started
away toward the opposite corner of the field.  As it proceeded it
continued to rise, until it reached a height of possibly ninety or a
hundred feet, when it began to dip unsteadily.

"It's a gust of wind striking it," remarked John uneasily.  "I hope she
weathers it.  If there was only a pilot in her now, he could----"

But even as he spoke the Sky-Bird seemed to recover her balance.
Making a pretty circle, away she sped on her course, neither rising nor
falling.  Like a real bird she sailed onward, the noise of her whirring
propeller now lost to her fliers, but her little pale-yellow silk wings
against the blue sky plainly tracing her course for them.  Paul was
running after her now as fast as his legs could carry him.  What if she
should keep right on and go over the far fence?--he might lose the
little darling!

That fence was a good half-mile away.  For his pet to cover such a
distance had not seemed within the bounds of probability to either
himself or John at the start, for all of their great confidence in the
flying powers of the new model.  Now, as he kept on running and the
Sky-Bird continued going with no sign of dropping, Paul really became
alarmed for her safety in landing.

But just before it reached the boundary of the grounds, the youth saw
that the airplane was slowly settling.  Into the next field it flew,
and the high board fence shut it from Paul's view as he came up to it.
With a jump he caught the top boards, and scrambled up, springing down
on the opposite side.  It was to see his little machine just miss the
branches of an oak tree and settle down into some long grass about a
hundred yards beyond.

He found it undamaged, and hurried back to his friends in the
fair-grounds, his heart beating jubilantly at the splendid results of
the flight.  He hugged the small airplane to his heart as if it were
the most precious possession in the world, as indeed it was to him.

Mr. Giddings and Bob were loud in their praise, and John smiled in that
quiet way that told the younger brother how well pleased he was.  It
was found that the Sky-Bird had passed over the lower fence in just one
minute and three seconds, which was certainly good speed for such a
diminutive contrivance.  Several other flights were then made, all of
which were equally successful.  At the conclusion Bob Giddings was so
excited that he could hardly stand still.

"Dad, isn't this little thing simply a wonder?" he exclaimed.  "I'd
give anything in the world if I could own a big fellow built on this
principle.  I'll bet it would pass anything now made."

His father looked thoughtful for a moment.  Then, turning to the Ross
brothers, he observed:

"Do you think, boys, that these features could be successfully applied
to a full-sized airplane?"

"There's no doubt at all about it, to my mind, sir," replied John Ross.
"That's the next thing Paul and I propose doing, although I expect we
shall have a hard time getting enough money to meet the expense of
materials.  Of course we shall have the regular type of gasoline engine
in place of this pneumatic arrangement, as this principle won't apply
to big machines.  I figure a 400 horse-power Liberty engine would carry
such a machine two hundred miles an hour."

Again Mr. Giddings was silent a moment.  Then he resumed: "John, I hear
that you have been laid off from your Air Mail job.  Is that right?"

"It is, sir."

"Well, then, I am going to make a proposition to you and Paul, and in a
way Robert may consider himself involved, too, I expect.  As you may
know, Robert plans to be an electrical engineer, and Mrs. Giddings and
myself are anxious to encourage him in every way we can.  For some time
he has been experimenting with wireless telegraph and telephone
apparatus, and has made some sets of the latter which it seems to me
are an improvement over anything now on the market, particularly a set
for airplane use, which he has no means of properly testing out on
account of the lack of the airplane.  Now my proposition is just this:
I will meet every expense of making a first-class full-sized airplane
like the Sky-Bird, and pay you, John, a wage equal to that which the
government allowed you as a pilot, if you three young men here will do
the construction work secretly, and if Robert may be allowed a
one-third interest in the venture, both in the plane to be made, and in
any future benefits to be derived from the patent rights."

Of course the delighted John and Paul accepted this splendid offer, and
Bob Giddings was so happy at the prospect of a fine big airplane in
which to install his wireless apparatus that he actually hugged his
father.  They repaired to the Giddings home, and there, in true
business form, a contract was drawn up and duly signed by all
interested parties, with a notary's seal attached.

With a copy in their possession, the Ross boys hurried home, after
having dinner with the Giddings family, to acquaint Mrs. Ross with the
good news.




CHAPTER IV

PLANNING A BIG AIRPLANE

As planned, the much-talked-of Air Derby around the world took place
from Mineola Field, New York, on the 4th of July.  A great crowd had
been attracted, owing to the extensive accounts of the affair in the
big newspapers for the past several months, and a thrilling hush fell
over the assemblage as, at high noon, one after another of the famous
flyers took off in various types of aircraft.  There were four big
dirigibles, two of which started to cross the Atlantic at once, while
the others took a northerly course with the intention of making the
final hop from St. John's, Newfoundland, in accordance with several
previous attempts of other aircraft.  Besides these, seven
heavier-than-air machines started, all making for Newfoundland also.
Four of these were flying-boats, two were seaplanes, and the other was
a double-propellered biplane.

Needless to say, the Ross boys and Bob Giddings and his father were
present to see the machines off.  They had arrived in the big
automobile of the publisher, and were greatly interested in every
detail of the departure.  Several of the contestants John Ross knew,
having met them at some time during his flying periods, and it gave him
a chance briefly to renew old acquaintanceship and personally to wish
them good luck on their long journey.  Of course our friends would have
given a whole lot to have been able to compete in the novel contest
themselves, but that was out of the question.

When the last machine had disappeared from sight, they took their
departure.  Mr. Giddings left them at the office of the _Daily
Independent_, following which Bob drove Paul and John out to some of
the city's beautiful parks.  Late in the afternoon they again stopped
at the newspaper building and picked up Bob's father, thereupon turning
the car in the direction of Yonkers.  Altogether they had passed a very
pleasant holiday.

"Robert tells me that your plans for the new airplane, the Sky-Bird II,
are just about finished, John," remarked Mr. Giddings, as they sped
northward along the smooth surface of Riverside Drive, with its
beautiful greenery on the left and its fine residences at the right.

"Yes, sir," said John; "we have been devoting every spare moment to
them.  Of course a good many changes had to be made to adapt conditions
from the little airplane to the big fellow, and to incorporate the
extra pet features we all agreed upon were desirable.  You know it
never pays to start building an important and costly affair like an
airplane without having every detail thoroughly planned out, and
perfect working drawings in hand.  I think Paul will complete the
drawings early next week, including copies for accompanying the
specifications when we apply to Washington for patent rights.  As soon
as the drawings are done, we will drop in at your home in the evening
and show them to you."

"Good!" said Mr. Giddings.  "I shall await them with great interest.  I
suppose as soon as I approve these drawings, you fellows will all pitch
into the actual work."

"We surely will, sir," laughed Paul, while Bob, at the wheel in front,
having caught some of the conversation, called back with energy:
"That's just the size of it, dad."

"We have everything all ready," continued Paul.  "The balsa-wood and
spruce we ordered some time ago is on hand, and that will keep us busy
until other needed materials arrive.  We have repaired the big
exhibition building in the old fair-grounds, put on new double doors
and purchased a good Yale lock for them.  John and I have taken our
workbench and tools over there, and Bob has helped us rig up a nice
little five-horse power motor and small handsaw, also a circular saw,
home-made sand-drum, a small planer, and a boring-machine.  That
building is dry, and has lots of room in it for housing the new
airplane as it grows to maturity.  When cold weather comes we can
easily install a couple of heating-stoves to keep ourselves comfortable
and protect our materials and the machine from frost damage."

Mr. Giddings expressed himself as well pleased with these arrangements.
As he noted the foresightedness of the young mechanics his confidence
in them expanded.

"Don't hesitate to order anything you need, young men," he said warmly.
"Have them send the bills to me.  If my trust in you is misplaced, I am
willing to stand the consequences.  This is not only the best kind of a
practical education for Bob, but it is good business training for all
of us.  Go ahead; go ahead!"

With such strong encouragement, is it any wonder that the three young
men continued their operations vigorously?  Not one of them scarcely
wanted to stop long enough to eat and sleep, _a la_ Edison; and as it
was now summer vacation time, Paul and Bob were able to be with John
all day long in the old exhibition building.  Neighboring boys and even
older people hung around the open doors to watch operations, but the
builders were careful not to let them get close enough to gain any
ideas which might be harmful to their interests.

On Tuesday evening of the week following the start of the Air Derby,
John and his brother put on their best clothes and hied themselves over
to the Giddings home.  In Paul's hand was an envelope containing the
precious plans for the Sky-Bird II--completed at last by the young
draftsman, and ready to be shown to the financial member of the quartet.

When they were all seated in the Giddings library a little later, Mr.
Giddings scrutinized the plans with every evidence of satisfaction
written upon his strong features.  Now and then he would ask a
question, as Paul explained view after view and detail after detail.
At length he pointed to an oblong object situated in the pilot's
cockpit just under the dashboard.  "What is that?" he asked, curiously.

"That is what John and I call an 'automatic pilot,'" answered Paul.
"It is a new form of stabilizer, and made so as to overcome the defects
of others which are on the market.  A stabilizer should automatically
keep an airplane on a fairly level keel no matter how air conditions
are, even so steady that it will travel along on its course for a
considerable distance with the pilot paying no attention to his
controls, perhaps eating his lunch or reading his orders."

"A mighty useful contrivance," commented Mr. Giddings.  "I should think
that would also prevent lots of accidents in bad winds."

"It will--if it turns out as we expect," Paul remarked.

"Give me the full details of this," was the request.  "Remember, I am
not much of an airplane man."

"Well," said Paul, "you know, sir, that it is far more difficult to
drive an airplane than to guide an automobile, not merely because you
have two steering-gears or rudders to take care of, one for sidewise
and the other for up-and-down travel, but also because there are
movable planes in the wings of the machine, which have to be worked to
tip or 'bank' it when making a turn or to keep it on an even keel when
a gust of wind strikes it.  The 'rudder' is the vertical plane at the
tail of the machine, and is used for steering sideways, while the
'elevators' are the two horizontal movable planes just below the
rudder, which are used for steering up and down.  Similar planes to the
latter, one situated in the back edge of each upper wing, are called
'ailerons,' and one or the other is raised or depressed according to
whether the aviator wishes to bank to the right or left.

"The driver of an automobile has nothing to do but watch his
steering-wheel, and be ready to touch a pedal when he wishes to slow up
or go faster or stop.  If he makes a curve he does not have to bank his
machine owing to his comparatively slow speed; but the aviator,
traveling much faster through the air, must do this, bringing his
airplane to a steep angle if he makes a very short turn.  If he does
not calculate just right, he is likely to turn upside down and meet
this death in a nasty fall.

"While the careful automobilist can always see the road in front of him
and avoid rough spots or obstacles before he reaches them, the aviator
cannot do this.  It is true that he can see another airplane if it gets
in his way, or a church steeple when he is flying low; but his greatest
dangers are in the clear air itself, where they cannot be detected.  He
may suddenly drop into a 'hole,' which is really a downward current of
air, or he may get a terrific bump when he strikes a rising current.  A
freakish whim of the winds may unexpectedly take away the air support
from under one of the wings, and he will lurch and dip sharply to one
side."

"And I suppose sometimes lose all control?" said Mr. Giddings.

"Yes, sir; that has very often happened," put in John.  "A flyer friend
of mine took a nasty tumble that way near Cleveland last year, breaking
three ribs.  It's a wonder he wasn't killed."

"The pilot is blind to these pitfalls," went on Paul.  "He must control
his machine largely by intuition and the sense of feeling, although the
veteran airman, John says, can tell a good deal about what to expect
from the nature of the earth or clouds below him."

"That's true," averred John.  "The closer you are to the earth the more
you will feel the 'bumps,' as we call them.  They are a whole lot like
the waves of the ocean, only invisible, and there will be one straight
over every protuberance or depression of size in the surface of the
earth.  Mountains, hills, houses, lakes, valleys, rivers, forests, all
cause bumps or holes in the air up above them.  At one thousand feet
they are pretty bad.  At ten thousand feet they are scarcely
noticeable.  That's why most pilots prefer to fly high whenever they
can."

"What causes the air to act in this way over such configurations?"
propounded the publisher.

John looked helpless, and smiled.  "You've got me there," he admitted.
"I haven't had the opportunity to study aerostatics the same as Paul
here.  He can probably tell us."

"I'm not through my course yet," reminded his brother, "but I think I
can answer that.  The air surrounding the earth is a great belt forty
or more miles through and is of an even thickness.  As our globe sweeps
through it, the lower stratum of air naturally sinks down into the
valleys and like depressions.  This action pulls down the upper
stretches of air, thus creating what are termed 'air-pockets' or
'air-holes.'  Very dangerous they are, too."

"That is plain enough," declared Bob.  "Now, dad, let Paul go on
explaining this 'automatic pilot.'"

"If the aviator is enshrouded in fog or tries to sail through a heavy
bank of clouds, he is quite likely to lose all sense of direction,"
continued Paul.  "He will not know whether he is banking or traveling
on an even keel.  Sometimes pilots have come out of a low cloud to find
themselves dangerously close to the earth and in an awkward position,
perhaps in a steep bank, a side-slip, or even in the terrifying
nose-dive, and they have not had time to right themselves before
crashing to earth.  So you see that before flying can become reasonably
safe, some way must be found of keeping the machine automatically on a
level keel.

"To operate this stabilizer of ours all the pilot will have to do is to
guide the rudder with his feet.  The automatic pilot works the elevator
and the ailerons.  It takes care of 'bumps' and 'holes' and sees that
the machine banks at just the right angle on the turns.  This makes the
operation of an airplane containing the stabilizer even more simple
than running a motor-car, because you do not have to worry about going
into different speed gears when climbing or descending.  You will
notice on this drawing that strong piano-wires connect the instruments
with all the necessary controlling planes of the machine."

"Instruments?" interrogated Mr. Giddings.  "I thought there was but
one."

"No; there are two stabilizers, as you will see,--here, and here," was
Paul's response, pointing his finger to the parts.  "But, as each one
is exactly like the other in its construction, only the one has been
drawn in detail.  The other stabilizer runs lengthwise of the cockpit
and takes care of the elevator.  Both of these are operated by
compressed air, which proceeds from a little tank, right here.  The
tank is kept supplied by two tubes which lead into it, and each of
which joins a small pump operated by a fan which is right here on each
side of the fuselage where the onrush of wind will keep it humming as
the airplane travels.

"Each equalizer has a bore in it half-filled with mercury, working a
good deal like a carpenter's level.  If the airplane tilts to one side
or the other, the mercury will try to keep its level and will
immediately flow to the high side of the bore.  At each end of this
mercury tube there are electrical contact points.  As one becomes
submerged in the mercury by a tilting of the plane, a connection is
made whereby two electro-magnets are energized on that side.  One of
these magnets closes an exhaust-valve, and the other opens an
inlet-valve, in the compressed air tank.  At once air is forced into
this double cylinder, which you see at the bottom of the stabilizer,
filling the half which is to operate its own set of rudders; and a
piston begins to work inside.  The piston is connected to a toothed
rack, as you will note, causing this to turn a sector engaging it.  The
control wires connect with this sector."

"Very clever arrangement; but I don't quite see how, in banking, the
ailerons can be brought back automatically to a neutral position as
soon as the turn has been completed," ventured Mr. Giddings.

"John and I have provided for that, while Bob is responsible for the
electrical features I have just mentioned," said Paul.  "You will
notice that at the top of the mercury channel there is a dividing wall.
A tube runs from the left side of this wall to the right wing of the
airplane, also from the right side of the wall to the left wing.  At
the end of each tube there is what we call a 'venturi tube.'  This is a
kind of suction device operated by the wind.  The wind which blows
through the left venturi tube sucks the air out of the right-hand side
of the mercury tube, and the right venturi tube sucks the air out of
the left-hand side of the mercury tube.  The stronger the wind, the
greater the suction.  Now, when making a turn to the right the left
wing must travel faster than the right wing, and so there must be more
suction in the left venturi.  This produces a greater suction in the
right-hand side of the mercury tube, which draws the mercury up on that
side and down on the other, until the proper electrical contact is
broken and the ailerons are returned to neutral position."

"Can the mechanism be thrown out of gear when desired?  I should think
such a feature might be desirable," remarked Mr. Giddings.

"Indeed it is desirable, sir," declared Paul.  "No red-blooded pilot
wishes to sit still and let his machine run itself all the time, no
more than an automobilist.  That would spoil all the sport.  By merely
disengaging the automatic pilot's wires here at the sector--the work of
a couple of seconds--the airplane is ready for hand control."

"How much does it weigh?" was the gentleman's next query.

"A trifle less than a hundred pounds."

"That oughtn't to handicap an airplane any."

"Not a bit," said Paul.




CHAPTER V

AN AIR RACE FINISH AND A CHALLENGE

All in all, Mr. Giddings expressed himself as more than pleased with
the drawings for the Sky-Bird II.  At the end of the explanation, he
put the papers back in the envelope, and asked:

"Have you another set of these drawings in ink, Paul?"

"Yes, sir; this is a copied set; the original drawings from which we
will make our tracings and blue-prints are at home."

"You had better leave them there in a safe place, and work from your
blue-prints in the old exhibition building at the fair-grounds, being
careful to lock them up in your workbench every time you depart.  I
think you boys have a valuable thing here, and it is to your interest
to keep others from knowing your plans or seeing the airplane until we
have full government protection in the shape of patent rights.  I shall
turn this set of drawings over to a patent attorney in the city and ask
him to make application to the Patent Office in Washington without
delay."

The next morning all three boys, filled with new confidence and energy,
met at the fairgrounds as soon as they had had their breakfasts.  Paul
carried two rolls of fresh blue-prints, which he and John had made
while their mother was preparing the meal.  One of these sets he gave
to Bob to take home as his own special property, and the other one he
spread out on the workbench for consultation as their needs required.

Up to this time no effort had been made to keep children and curious
adults out of the grounds, but as their machine was now beginning to
take on real form, they determined to do this.  On a piece of board,
Paul printed in large letters, "Private Grounds; Keep Out," and Bob
nailed this up on the outside of the high board fence at the entrance.
The gate itself they closed and barred on the inside.

"Guess that will be a sufficient hint to the grown-ups," said Bob with
a grin.  "If the kids climb over, we'll fasten a red flag to the front
of our big hangar and paint 'Dynamite' in letters a yard long across
the front of the building."

"Yes, and if that doesn't keep them away we'll turn the hose on them,"
laughed John.

Then they fell to work on the new airplane, applying themselves like
beavers.  All three boys had had the splendid benefits of manual
training when they were in the public schools, and knew how to handle
every machine they had set up.  In addition to this, Paul and Bob were
first-class amateur machinists, as their courses of engineering in
Clark Polytechnic embraced the use of metal-working appliances of the
latest design, as well as wood-working machinery, and they could have
operated other machines had they needed them.

That evening the workers went back home tired but well satisfied with
their progress.  The next day the shavings flew again, and by the
latter part of the week they had begun to assemble portions of the
fuselage, using a waterproof glue which had been especially prepared
for airplanes, and applying galvanized screws to withstand rust in damp
atmospheres.

As the days went by, the boys, like almost everybody in the country,
watched the newspapers eagerly for reports of the progress of the
contestants in the big Air Derby around the world.  Only four of the
eleven aircraft to start had succeeded in getting across the
treacherous Atlantic, two of these being dirigible balloons, one a
flying-boat, and the other a Vickers-Vimy biplane.  After landing on
European soil one of the lucky airships came to grief in Italy in
making a stop for fuel, but the driver had obtained an Italian Caproni
plane and was making his way eastward with all haste.  The other
dirigible, commanded by Americans, had reached Teheran, Persia, where
gas-bag troubles had compelled her crew to continue by train.  About
the same time the flying-boat, piloted by a Boston man, and the
biplane, in control of two Englishmen, had reached Yokohama, Japan,
within a few hours of each other.  It was said that these contestants
would wait there for the first steamship going to San Francisco, as
they feared it would be impossible to fly across the great Pacific
stretch of almost five thousand miles.  Upon reaching San Francisco
they planned to continue the journey to New York in airplanes furnished
by California aeronautical friends.

The newspapers shortly after this announced the sailing of the rival
parties at Yokohama.  Storms and fog delayed the vessel.  Finally she
arrived at the Golden Gate, and then came the mad race across the North
American continent in fresh airplanes.  Near Cheyenne, Wyoming, the
American plane was forced to the ground by engine trouble, allowing her
competitor to get ahead several hours.  This lead the American could
not overcome, and the race ended at 5:15 o'clock on the afternoon of
July 27th, with the English crew first and the American crew second.
Three days later the belated French crew, who had met with mishap in
Italy, came in, winning third prize.

The Ross brothers were at work in the hangar when Bob Giddings, who had
gone into town on his motorcycle after some more screws, came back
waving the copy of the _Daily Independent_ containing this last account.

"Cartier and his bunch have arrived," he cried, springing from his
machine.  "Here it is on the first page.  That accounts for all the
prize-winners, and the excitement is practically over.  The others will
just lob in now--and they might as well."  He tossed the paper to John.
"Here, read it, you fellows," he said.  "You can quit on the Sky-Bird
long enough for that, I guess.  I'll work while you lay off a few
minutes."

Bob rolled up his sleeves, and John and Paul spread out the newspaper
on the bench and interestedly read the article in question.  As they
finished, and were turning around to resume work, Bob observed:

"Dad's got a rattling good editorial on this Air Derby, if I do say it.
Take a look at page 5 and see how he rips 'em up the back."

Shoulder to shoulder, the two brothers leaned over the bench and read
as follows:


"AROUND-THE-WORLD" RECORDS

The world has just witnessed the finish of another effort on the part
of mankind to circle the globe in record-breaking time.  And once more
the newspapers of the universe, and the sporting chroniclers, are
registering a new record in this class of human endeavor.  When, three
days ago, the English team, headed by Chester Hodge, dropped out of a
Curtis plane into Mineola Field, it was just 23 days, 6 hours and 15
minutes after the same crew had left that field in their Vickers-Vimy.
This beats the former record of 36 days and some odd hours, made in
1913 by John Henry Mears, by the substantial margin of approximately 12
days.  It is a big gain--a startlingly short time for encompassing the
world as compared with the efforts of the past.

All of the three contesting crews to finish have broken Mears's record,
and deserve great credit for their praise-worthy performance.  The
sponsors for this first great Air Derby around the world, the prominent
aero clubs of this country and the Eastern Hemisphere, also deserve
much praise for conceiving and promoting such a successful contest, and
in posting such magnificent prizes.

But, in the interests of other similar tours likely to follow, this
newspaper thinks it high time to declare itself opposed most vigorously
to two fundamental features governing the competition just closed.

First, why was this contest called by its promoters an "Air Derby"?  In
our opinion, with rules allowing the use of other modes of travel as
well as aircraft, the title is a decided misnomer.  It should have been
termed a "Go-As-You-Please Derby."  Not a single one of these
contestants accomplished the girdle by airplane alone; every winner
took a steamship across the Pacific.  Here's hoping that when another
'round-the-world contest is pulled off it will be tagged with a title
which fits.

Second, when a specific record trip around the world is promulgated, is
it scientifically correct to take a route which is approximately 30 per
cent shorter than the actual circumference of the universe on which we
live?  In a foot race around a circular track judges do not let
sprinters pick out their own course and "cut across lots" whenever they
choose.  Nor is it allowed in horse races, auto races, or any form of
sport where time records are registered on curving courses.

The _Daily Independent_ contends that beginning with Jules Verne's
mythical hero Phileas Fogg, who in the story negotiated the journey in
the improbable time of 80 days, back in 1872, every record-maker in the
flesh and blood has followed northerly routes averaging the 30th
parallel, thus traversing only about 16,000 miles of the world's actual
circumference of 24,899 miles; and these records have gone down as true
and complete accomplishments!  But, because a wrongful practice, one
misrepresentative of its purpose, has been carried on for almost a
century, is it any reason for arguing that the process should continue
in this advanced and enlightened day?

We say NO!  It is time for this practice of around-the-world humbug and
cheatery to stop right now.  If it takes our fastest modern
globe-trotters a whole year to go around the world by a route equal to
or approximating the equatorial girth, then let it take them a year;
for the sake of our pride and all that is good and sincere let us do
our stunts on the square.

There are no records of an equatorial trip around the world.  Who will
be the first to establish one?   Let us run a pen through all these
short-cut records of the past, and turn a clean page for the entry of
the first real journey around the fat old world's belt.


As Paul finished the editorial his heart was beating very fast.  He was
a true sportsman, and he realized the truth in the bold stand taken by
the _Daily Independent_.  His brother John was no less favorably
affected by it.

"Bang me, if that isn't a good article!" said John enthusiastically.
"Mr. Giddings may get a lot of criticism for this from a certain class
of people, but he's taking the right course."

"He certainly is," approved Paul.  "I had never thought of it before,
but he points the error out so clearly that almost anybody ought to
realize the need of a fairer route after reading his statements.  Just
as he says, it's never too late to correct matters which have been
going wrong, no matter how long."

"I'd give anything I've got if I could be the first fellow to go around
the world's belt," declared John, his brown cheeks glowing with deeper
color at the thought; "I wouldn't care so much about beating these
other chaps in the matter of time, just so long as I made a fair trail."

"Oh, John, wouldn't that be a great trip!" cried Paul.

"Say, look at here," broke in Bob Giddings, who had been near enough to
overhear all of this conversation.  His face was glowing, too, as he
turned toward the brothers.  "When we get the Sky-Bird II done, why
couldn't the three of us pick out a new course around the globe in her?
If she's as good as we think she will be, we could travel over any kind
of land or water with her, and I think we could pick out islands in the
Pacific so that we could cross that and make the entire journey by air."

"I believe this old ship could do it all right," said John, full of
confidence and thrilled at the idea, as he stepped back and looked at
the partly-assembled fuselage with a loving eye.  "But, Bob, a trip
like that would cost a lot of money just for gas, and you know Paul and
I could hardly afford it."

"I'm going to speak to dad about it, anyhow," decided Bob; "he has been
talking airplanes and world routes at home to mother and me for the
last three months, and maybe he will be interested enough to back us
up.  He never stops at anything when he once sets his mind on it."

It was several days after this that Bob Giddings came to work with
another newspaper in his hands.

"Things seem to be coming our way as fast as they can," he said, with a
mysterious smile.  "Take in what Mr. Wrenn, the editor of this paper,
says in this framed insert on the front page."

John and Paul did as directed.  The article was prominently displayed,
and was to the effect that the _Clarion_ disagreed very strongly with
the attitude adopted by its contemporary, the _Daily Independent_, in
regard to around-the-world routes.  It declared that it was physically
impossible by any mode of modern travel to follow a route along, or
even within twenty degrees of, the equatorial line, and said it was a
shame to assail the creditable records made in the past.  In conclusion
it stated:

If our esteemed sheet, the _Daily Independent_, feels so cock-sure of
its position, why does it not do a little demonstrating?  Why does it
not organize an expedition, and prove its claim?  This is all bunk!  We
are so sure of it, that we right now challenge our misguided friend to
run us a race around the world on a course of his own selection, at any
time, by any mode of travel he may choose.  There! we have knocked the
chip off of the _Daily Independent's_ shoulder.  Now let's see if our
friend is really a bluffer or a fighter.


"You know the _Clarion_ is a powerful evening newspaper, too," said
Bob, when the Ross boys looked up from their reading.  "It has always
been a hot rival of dad's paper, but it never got quite so sarcastic as
this before.  Dad was good and mad when he read this last night.  'I'll
show both the _Clarion_ and the public whether I'm a bluffer or not,'
he said to mother.  'If it takes the last cent I've got I'll organize
an expedition to meet their challenge and prove my theory to be the
correct one.'  Then I woke up to our opportunity.  I suggested to dad
that if the Sky-Bird turned out as we hoped, she would be the very
thing to pioneer such a route and give the _Clarion_ people a race to
make their eyes stick out; and I said John Ross was willing to head a
crew including Paul and myself."

"What did he say?" asked John and Paul, almost in the same breath.

"Well, he gave a little gasp; his eyes snapped, and he quit walking the
floor and sat down on the davenport.  'Robert,' he said, 'I'll think
this matter over.'  Then he lit a cigar and went to smoking.  Dad
seldom smokes except when he's got something heavy on his mind."

John and Paul now joined Bob in putting a knee-brace in the new
airplane body.  Somehow they had a feeling that the parts they were
assembling with such care would one of these days go on a very long and
arduous journey.




CHAPTER VI

THE MISSING BLUE-PRINTS

The Air Derby created interest all over the world.  People in foreign
lands talked about it and read about it in their newspapers, just as
they had done in the United States and Canada.  With the keenest kind
of interest they had followed the reports of its progress and its
finish.  Several nations had hoped to have their own representatives
come in first, only to be disappointed.

All this interested world pricked up its attention anew when the bold
editorial of the _Daily Independent_ was widely copied.  As John Ross
had predicted, and as probably Mr. Giddings knew before he wrote it,
this particular article caused a furore of comment editorially and
otherwise.  Much of this,--indeed, it seemed the most of it--was
favorable to the stand taken by the New York publisher.  But when the
rival sheet, the _Clarion_, arrayed its strong force in opposition, the
conservative element of the public felt vastly encouraged, and many
were the heated personal arguments as well as newspaper duels, which
ensued.  Aviators all over the land were particularly concerned, and it
goes without saying that the winners of the late competition were all
lined up with the _Clarion_ contingent.  This paper's challenge to the
_Daily Independent_ for a two-party race around the world on the
_Independent's_ own conception of what it considered a fair route awoke
great joy in the hearts of the leave-things-as-they-have-been
adherents.  Few, if any of them, particularly the publishers of the
_Clarion_, thought Mr. Giddings would ever take up the challenge.

Therefore, judge of the surprise of everybody, and the dismay of the
_Clarion_ staff, when a few days following the flaunting of its
challenge, the front page of the Giddings paper contained the
following, under a heavy black type heading:


THIS PAPER ACCEPTS THE "CLARION'S" CHALLENGE

A short time ago the _Daily Independent_ in an editorial strongly
criticized the methods or rather routes used in the past in making
world tours for a time record, stating that such journeys had all been
made unfairly, in that the routes adopted were about a third less than
the actual circumference of the globe, and that in our opinion the only
legitimate around-the-world record could be made by following
approximately the equatorial line.

We expected a good deal of criticism, of course, when we came out thus
boldly against a custom which had prevailed since the beginning of
so-called "around the world" record trips.  But we did not expect to be
challenged to prove our sincerity by ourselves making such a journey in
competition with our esteemed but rabid contemporary, the _Clarion_.

To show the _Clarion_ that we are not "bluffing," and that we are
perfectly willing to demonstrate practically any position we ever take,
we herewith accept its challenge.  Even now we have in process of
construction a new type of airplane, by means of which we are confident
we can fly approximately straight around the belly of this old world
entirely by air.  A little later we shall announce a time, place, and
route, in our columns, and sincerely trust the _Clarion_ will be
satisfied with them.


It is quite unnecessary to say that Paul and John Ross read the
foregoing article with the keenest pleasure the night they reached home
from the hangar and found their mother just finishing its perusal.
Naturally Mrs. Ross felt all of the average mother's anxiety at the
thought that her sons would be exposed to the perils such a long
journey would invite, but on the other hand she was very proud to think
their talents had placed them in such an honored position.  It had only
been an evening or two before that Mr. Giddings, in company with his
son Robert, had called at the Ross homestead, and after a long
conference with the boys as to the suitability of the new Sky-Bird II
for making a world cruise, had taken his departure with his mind fully
made up as to how he should meet the rival paper's challenge.

A few days subsequently, Bob Giddings found, upon reaching home for
lunch, that his motorcycle, which he was in the habit of riding back
and forth to work, so that he could rush into town on short notice and
get emergency materials for the airplane, had a flat tire.  As he could
not fix the tire then, he decided to walk back to the fair-grounds.

As he emerged from the big front yard of his home, he chanced to look
toward town, and observed an orange-colored taxicab standing near the
first crossing.  This would not have especially attracted Bob's
attention, except for the fact that a man sitting on the front seat was
just at that moment pointing his index finger toward the Giddings'
place, and a slender-looking man just descending from the cab was
looking that way and nodding his head.

It seemed to Bob that he had seen the passenger before, but a second
look made him think he must be mistaken; at least he could not place
him.

"It's probably somebody to see dad.  If so, he'll get disappointed, as
dad won't get back from the city before evening."

Dismissing the incident from his mind with this thought.  Bob hurried
down the road, eager to reach the hangar and get to work again on the
new airplane.

A few moments after he had passed the home of a youth he knew, he heard
a familiar salutation, and turned around to wave his hand in a greeting
to this friend, who had come to the front door.  As he turned, his eye
fell on a slender figure some distance behind, a figure which stepped
behind a tree and stopped.

"Humph! that's funny," mused Bob.  "It looks a lot like that fellow who
got out of the taxi back there by our house; I wonder what he's up to,
anyhow?"

He continued his way, but as he reached the fair-grounds gate and got
out his key to unlock it, the whim to look back again seized him.  As
he turned, his gaze once more rested on the slender form of the
wayfarer, who had crossed to the opposite side of the road, and who
now, finding himself observed once more, promptly stopped and began to
fuss with his shoe-lace.

"Say now, this is funny!" ejaculated Bob under his breath, vainly
trying again to recall the identity of the lean figure and dark
complexion.  "I believe that chap is trying to shadow me.  I wonder
what in the dickens he really is up to?"

It was the second time Bob had asked that question of himself, but as
he was a poor source of information just then, he was forced to pass
into the fair-grounds and relock the gate in as mystified a state of
mind as before he put the query.

A little later, when he reached the big hangar he whirled about again,
as if half expecting to see the stranger still skulking behind him in
the grounds.  To his relief he did not detect this situation exactly,
but he did see a dark face, which had been peering over the top of the
highboard fence near the gate, drop down from view on the other side.

Bob gave a grunt as he passed into the hangar and took off his coat.
"As I live, I believe he's up to some sort of mischief," growled the
boy.  And when, shortly afterward, John and Paul Ross appeared he told
of his experience and repeated his suspicions.

"That is funny," asserted John; "Paul and I saw nothing of any such man
when we came along, and we passed down the same road.  Perhaps he
mistook you for somebody else."

"I hope so, but I don't like his actions a little bit," declared Bob
stoutly.

With that he picked up a try-square and pencil and began laying out
some work for Paul to cut on the circular saw, while John busied
himself at the boring-machine in putting a hole through the center of
the big twelve-foot balsa-wood propeller which a little later would be
reinforced with a thin jacket of a new metal called "salinamum," which
was made chiefly from salt but whose fused components made it as light
as aluminum and stronger than tool steel.

Soon the queer actions of the stranger were quite forgotten in the deep
interest of the three young men in their work.  With the prospect of a
world tour before them if the Sky-Bird turned out well, they now had
more incentive than at the beginning to build the machine with the
utmost skill and attention to every detail.  Some changes, calculated
to make the craft better adapted to the peculiar conditions she would
be likely to meet in such a varied temperature were put into effect,
but on the whole they found their original plans so well laid that no
important features seemed to require modification or abandonment.

But if the man who had followed Bob dropped out of their minds the rest
of that day, he was soon to occupy a prominent place in their thoughts.
For the very next morning, when Paul and John arrived at the hangar,
they were met at the door by a very agitated Bob Giddings.

"Fellows, what do you think has happened?" cried Bob, clearly very much
excited.  Without giving his friends time to answer the question he
blurted out: "Somebody got in here last night and stole our plans!"

"Stole our plans!" reiterated Paul and John in the same gasp.

"That's it," said Bob,--"stole the set of blue-prints we have been
working from.  What's more, they must have seen the airplane before
they got out.  I went to take the plans out of the bench drawer here
where we have kept them locked up, and there was the drawer wide open,
the lock picked, and the drawings gone.  I'll bet a herring we can
thank my dark-skinned shadow of yesterday for this little visit!"

"It does look as if he might have had something to do with this,"
agreed John soberly.  "I wonder how the rascal, whoever he is, could
have gotten in the building.  There's a heavy Yale lock on the doors."

"The doors were locked all right when I came this morning," vouched
Bob.  "I don't see myself how--"

"Here you are, gentlemen!" called Paul, who had stepped to a good-sized
window near the head of the workbench.  "Here's the fellow's private
entrance!"  And he pointed to where a heavy nail locking the lower sash
had been forced aside, also to a series of indentations in the outer
sill, where some prying tool had obviously been recently at work.

"It's a clear case of theft, that's sure," observed John; "and since
its only our plans that have been taken, it goes to show that this chap
is very much concerned about this new airplane."

"Perhaps he wishes to beat us out in getting the patent rights," Bob
hinted darkly.

"No, I don't think it's that," differed Paul; "our application was sent
in to Washington some weeks ago, and you know the first one to apply
for a certain patent gets the attention."

"Well, then, he could use our plans and make and sell airplanes of
their pattern, couldn't he?" asked Bob, whose ideas of patent laws were
still a little vague.

"Not at all; if he did we could sue him for infringement," was Paul's
answer.  "The only way he could profit by this theft, so far as I can
see, would be to construct a machine for his own private use, or to
give to another person.  We could not touch him for that."

"And that would be bad enough for us--if such a machine were used
against us in this proposed race around the world, wouldn't it?"
demanded Bob Giddings.

Paul and John Ross looked at him in dismayed astonishment.  They had
not thought of this contingency before.




CHAPTER VII

WHO'S AT THE WINDOW?

The making of a big airplane is a good-sized job.  Especially is this
the case with the first airplane made up from new plans.  And when the
job has to be done by no more than three young men, it becomes an
unusually formidable task.

The loss of the blue-prints did not hold up the progress of our friends
in the least, as it was only the matter of fifteen or twenty minutes'
work for Paul to make a new set from the tracings he had at home; but
there were unexpected difficulties met here and there in the
constructive work, as is always the case in large mechanical
undertakings of an original nature, besides which the young builders
ran into the usual delays caused by slow deliveries of parts and
materials from distant dealers and manufacturers; and sometimes the
railroads were tardy in transporting shipments.

All in all, the summer slipped away only too quickly, and it came time
for Paul and Bob to go back to school again with Sky-Bird II not more
than half finished.  It is true that the long fuselage of the craft was
done, with its graceful curves and splendid, roomy, enclosed cabin,
accommodating five persons; but all concerned were a little
disappointed that more progress had not been made.  Mr. Giddings had
been quite a frequent visitor at the fair-grounds all through the
summer, lending a voice of encouragement throughout the operations.  He
looked really concerned, however, when Paul and Bob had to return to
Clark Polytechnic Institute for the new term of study.

"This is rather hard on us, isn't it, boys?" he observed, with a light
laugh in which he unsuccessfully tried to conceal his anxiety.  "Here
we are with a half-completed airplane, a race staring us in the face
for next summer, and two of our workmen snatched away for the whole
winter by the inexorable demands of school life, leaving only one lone
fellow to finish the job."

"We'll be able to work Saturdays, dad," ventured Bob, trying to wedge a
little bit of cheer into the gloomy prospect.

"And evenings.  I'd be willing to work after supper every night for a
couple of hours," proposed Paul.

"You won't do any such thing," came the firm answer.  "While you are at
school you two fellows need your evenings for rest and study, and your
Saturdays for the school-team sports.  Only when there isn't a game on
in which you are a contestant will I allow you to help John on the
machine--even if it isn't finished for five years.  I have been
thinking this situation over for some time, for I have seen it coming,"
went on the great publisher after a moment's pause; "and I have come to
the conclusion that the best thing I can do to hustle our ship along is
to call in another workman on the job, some chap we can trust and who
knows how to handle tools.  In fact, if he were a regular airplane
mechanic it would be all the better."

John Ross spoke up at once.  "Mr. Giddings," he said, "I think you have
the right idea.  Bob and Paul can't help me much from now on, and if we
take that trip around the world next summer this machine must be done
some weeks ahead, so that we can have a chance to test her out and tune
her up.  Now, it happens that Paul and I have a cousin--Tom Meeks--who
is about my age and who flew in the same squadron with me over on the
French front during the war.  I will vouch for Tom's ability as a
mechanic and flyer, also as to his trustworthiness.  It happens my
mother just received a letter from Tom's folks in Illinois the other
day in which she said the factory had closed down in which he was
working and he was out of a job."

"And you think this Tom Meeks would be willing to come up here, then,
and help you this winter for the salary I am paying you?" questioned
Mr. Giddings with interest.

"I think he would, sir."

"Then write to him immediately, and tell him to come right on."

In less than a week a strapping big young man, suitcase in hand, got
off the train at the Yonkers depot, and was warmly greeted by his
cousins, Paul and John Ross, who then introduced him to Bob Giddings.
Bob had been so eager to see the new helper on the airplane that he
could not wait for a later meeting with him.  He took instant liking to
the jolly newcomer, who seemed to be ever smiling, and after a short
exchange of conversation with him hurried home to tell his father what
a splendid fellow Tom Meeks was.

Tom was domiciled in the Ross home, to which he had been a visitor in
other years, and of course for the rest of that evening was kept busy
visiting with Mrs. Ross and looking at the numerous miniature airplanes
of Paul's.  His praise of the little Sky-Bird, and particularly of the
drawings of Sky-Bird II was very strong, and when he went to the
fair-grounds the following morning with John and actually saw what a
fine-looking ship the big craft was, he was stumped for words to
express his full admiration.

Then while John and Tom went industriously to work, Paul and Bob rode
away to Clark Polytechnic in New York with Mr. Giddings.  Just before
starting into the city that morning, the newspaper man had met Tom, and
there was little doubt that he was well pleased with this addition to
his force of workers.  Of course Paul and Bob were sorry to have to
interrupt their labors on Sky-Bird II, but there was no help for it,
and there was some consolation in the thought that undoubtedly their
instructors would let them work on some of the airplane's smaller parts
as a portion of their school mechanical practice.  This supposition
indeed proved correct, and as the fall days passed they found the two
student chums not only partaking with full spirit in the sports of
their comrades, but also contributing in no small measure to the
progress of the work on the new airplane.

As a rule, Paul and Bob managed to stop in each Saturday for at least
an hour or so to lend some assistance to John and Tom, and when there
were no school contests on, they spent practically the entire holiday
in the hangar.

The cool days of November soon compelled the boys to install a couple
of heating stoves in the big building, and after that the place was
warm and cheery throughout the working day, no matter how blustery and
nippy the weather.  At night the coals were carefully banked with
ashes, to keep up a fair degree of warmth until the following morning.

Up to this time nothing had been seen of any suspicious person lurking
around the premises, but one afternoon late in the month, when Tom
Meeks was working alone in the hangar and John had gone to town after
some bolts, Tom thought he heard a strange sound at one of the two
windows near the workbench.

Turning quickly from the wing-strut which he had been setting in place,
Tom faced the window just in time to see a swarthy-looking countenance,
adorned with a toothbrush-like mustache, pulled out of range.  The
mechanic had been informed of Bob's experience with the man who had
evidently followed him to the grounds during the summer, also of the
blue-prints which had been stolen, and now as he observed the
similarity in looks between this eavesdropper and the reported shadow
of Bob, he became quite excited.

With that lack of coolness and presence of mind characterizing a more
reserved temperament, the impulsive Tom rushed straight up to the
window, and peered out.  Of course he could see nothing, for the peeper
had been cute enough upon finding himself observed to keep close to the
side of the building as he moved swiftly toward its rear.

Tom now seized the lower sash and tried to throw it up, so as to get a
sidewise view.  To his disgust he found it double-spiked, and realized
that he had put that very second nail in himself upon first learning of
the loss of the blue-prints.

"Huckleberry pie!" sputtered Tom, using his favorite expression when
excited.

He whirled about and started for the door of the building.  On account
of the extensive size of the structure it was quite a little way to
this.  To make matters worse Tom dashed forward in such haste and
flurry that he did not watch his step very closely; when he was about
half-way to the door, his toe caught the protruding leg of an innocent
sawhorse, and the next moment Tom Meeks and the sawhorse were both
overturned.

"Huckleberry pie!" gasped the big fellow.  His right shin hurt like
fury, but he would not stop to examine it, and covered the remaining
distance to the door in very ludicrous limping jumps.  Dashing around
the front of the building, he reached the corner which gave him a view
of the side.

Not a soul was in sight.  Not to be outdone completely, Tom hurried
along the side of the building.  As he came near the rear end he saw a
slender figure just clambering over the highboard fence of the field in
the rear of the hangar.

Lame as he was, big Tom knew there was no chance of his overtaking the
fleet-footed and cunning stranger, so he returned to his work very much
crestfallen in spirit.

When John heard what had happened, on his return to work, he was
considerably disturbed, and suggested to his comrades the advisability
of placing a night-guard on the premises for a while at least, since
this unknown enemy might make an effort some night to burn or
irreparably damage the Sky-Bird.  The others sanctioned this
precaution, and thereafter took turns in watching, although this
vigilance was apparently all for naught, as no suspicious character
appeared.




CHAPTER VIII

THE SKY-BIRD II

"Well, Mr. Giddings, what do you think of Sky-Bird II?" asked John
Ross, one memorable day.

There was a smile of deep satisfaction on John's own bronzed features
as he put the question, a smile which was duplicated on the faces of
his three co-workers--Paul, Bob, and Tom Meeks.  It was the latter part
of March, Easter vacation week for Paul and Bob, and the two chums had
been working every one of the last three days helping John and Tom put
the finishing touches on the big new airplane.  And now this Friday
morning it rested gracefully upon its own rubber-tired wheels, its
great stretch of wings spread out as airily as those of a monster bird,
its huge two-bladed propeller glistening like burnished silver, and its
body running backward in a splendid symmetrical taper, to end at the
well-proportioned tail.  Sky-Bird II was done at last.

Mr. Giddings was so lost in admiration at the beautiful lines of the
craft that he did not reply immediately to John's question.  He had not
seen it for almost two weeks, and in that time, under the onslaughts of
the four boys, it had changed appearance in a striking way, numerous
finished parts having been connected and paint and varnish having been
applied.

"All I have to say, young men, is that if she performs anywhere near as
well as she looks, I shall be thoroughly satisfied with the money I
have invested thus far," declared the great newspaper man with an
enthusiasm which he did not try to conceal.  His eyes were shining, as
he walked around the craft looking at it from all sides.  He rubbed his
fingers lingeringly over the smooth fuselage, and smiled quietly as he
regarded the name "Sky-Bird II" lettered in large blue characters on
her sides and underneath each long bird-like wing.  Then he mounted a
folding step and went through a neat door into the glass-surrounded
cabin.  This was deep enough to stand up in, and provided comfortable
upholstered cane seats for the pilot and four passengers or assistants.
All of these seats except the pilot's and observer's were convertible,
forming supports for the swinging of as many hammocks, and in a small
space at the rear was a neat little gasoline-burner, and over it a
built-in cupboard containing some simple aluminum cooking ware.

"Well, I declare!" said Mr. Giddings in amazement at the convenience of
things, "it looks as if you fellows hadn't left out a single item
needed in a long and enjoyable cruise."

"There's nothing like being fixed up for all emergencies, sir," laughed
John.  "As you notice, we have everything for night-flying as well as
day-flying.  With such a machine as this there is no reason why a crew
of four or five could not run nights as well as days, two operating
while the others sleep in the hammocks.  Cold foods can be cooked or
warmed up on the gas-stove when needed, and the enclosed cabin protects
all hands from the worst effects of bad storms."

"Wouldn't this glass break in a hailstorm?" asked Mr. Giddings.  "It
seems to be pretty thin."

"It is thin," said Paul; "that is to give it lightness.  It might check
some in a hailstorm, but it could not break out, as it is made of two
layers of glass between which is cemented a thin sheet of celluloid."

"I think you had two Liberty motors here in the hangar when I was here
last.  I neglected to ask you the power of these, and what you need two
for," observed Mr. Giddings.  "I thought you said in the beginning that
you considered one 400 horse-power engine of sufficient strength to
carry this plane at a fast clip."

"It is this way, sir," responded John.  "The regular big biplane of the
bomber type carries two propellers with an engine for each propeller.
If one motor fails them when flying, about all the other is good for is
to make a landing with.  By reason of the great lightness of our
airplane one good 400 horse-power motor is all we need for pulling
purposes.  But suppose this should fail, as any motor might do?  We
could not continue, any more than the other fellow, and would have to
volplane to the ground.  Again, suppose we wished to fly continuously
more than twelve hours?  We could not do so, as such a steady run would
heat the best motor and ruin it.  These two Liberty motors, which we
have, overcome all these troubles.  Both are so arranged that a simple
switch connects and disconnects either one with the propeller, and both
can be put at work at the one time if needed in a bad storm.  If one
stalls, the other can immediately be thrown in and a forced landing
obviated.  Moreover, if we could get fuel when needed, with this
arrangement I am safe in saying we could fly steadily day and night,
resting one motor and working its mate, for a week or more."

"What is this?"  As he spoke the publisher touched a peculiar-looking
helmet hanging from a hook near the pilot's seat.

Bob laughed.  "Why, don't you recognize the products of your talented
son, dad?" he cried, as he took the object down and clapped it over his
father's iron-gray head.  "That's my new wireless telephone headpiece,
and right underneath it here is the mahogany cabinet containing the
sending and receiving instruments.  You see, these two wires run from
the plug up to the receivers, there being one receiver in each side of
the helmet, right over your ear, pressing against the ear tightly by
means of a sponge-rubber gasket."

"A man looks like a padded football player with this thing on," said
Mr. Giddings with a smile.  "Why is a helmet required at all?"

"We wouldn't require it so much with these motors, as they are equipped
with a new kind of muffler which shuts out about four-fifths of the
noise other airplanes get," explained Bob.  "But for all that there are
always noises in airplanes; for instance, they say the whirr of the
propeller when it is revolving about 1450 revolutions per minute, or at
the full speed of this one, makes quite a roar; so you see the need of
the helmet to shut out all undesirable sounds possible.  In ordinary
planes the crew cannot talk to each other except by using phones or
putting their lips to each other's ears and yelling at the top of their
voices, according to what John and Tom tell me.  But we don't expect to
have that trouble in this enclosed cabin and with this new muffler
working, do we, fellows?"

"I'm sure we won't," said John.

"Not if I'm any judge," grinned Tom.

"Can you talk with a ground station when you're flying, say a couple of
miles high?" asked Mr. Giddings, examining a transmitter attached to a
yoked wire support which his son slipped over his shoulders.

"Farther than that.  With this particular vacuum tube, which will
amplify sounds three or four times over any other I have tried, we
expect to talk with ground stations or other aircraft at a distance of
three thousand miles.  Notice what a simple thing it is, dad," and Bob
indicated a little glass bulb which looked a lot like an ordinary
incandescent light, but which had a peculiar arrangement of wires and
substances inside.

"Is the transmitter or receiver made just like the ordinary kind?"
asked Mr. Giddings.

"Practically the same, dad.  The wireless transmitter, like that of the
wire telephone, contains a sensitive diaphragm which your voice strikes
and sets to vibrating.  These vibrations compress and release a capsule
of carbon granules which agitate and set in motion an electrical
current in two magnets connecting with them.  The magnets convey the
sound-waves in the form of electrical waves, along wires out to the tip
of each wing, where the wires hang down a little way.  When a message
comes in it is caught by a webbing of antennae wires in our wings."

"Then I suppose these sound-waves, in other words the words one speaks,
run out of the end of these wires into the atmosphere?"

"Exactly, sir," agreed Bob.  "That is, the electrical waves are
projected into the air and disturb this air in a way to make it pulsate
in the same manner as your voice makes the diaphragm pulsate.  These
waves are then carried through the atmosphere in every direction, and
sooner or later reach the antennae wires of some station equipped to
receive them.  Down these wires they dash, are registered and magnified
in the wonderfully delicate vacuum tube, and from it are carried up
into the receivers at your ears."

"I should think they would be electrical impulses when they reach the
receivers," argued Mr. Giddings.  "How can a person hear _words_ from
electrical discharges?"

Bob smiled.  "Easy enough, dad," he went on.  "You see, this vacuum
tube does the business.  The electrical current agitates this in
unison, and the impulses are immediately converted into words
again,--and there you are!"

"I acknowledge my understanding now," admitted Mr. Giddings, with a
hearty laugh; "but there's just one thing yet I want light on: Where do
you get your electrical current?  It takes a dynamo to make
electricity, else storage batteries.  I don't see either."

"Come outside here a moment, dad."

Bob smiled as he led the little party out of the Sky-Bird's cabin.
When they once more stood on the hangar floor, he pointed to a peculiar
T-shaped object just beneath the nose of the airplane.  This had
escaped the gentleman's observation until now.

"It looks like a small propeller with a torpedo sticking out from the
middle of it," laughed Mr. Giddings.

"So it does, dad," agreed Bob.  "Well, that's our wireless dynamo.  You
will notice that the propeller faces ahead, like the big fellow here.
When the airplane is flying, the rush of wind spins the fan at a
terrific rate, its axle operates a little dynamo in this torpedo-like
case and manufactures electric current.  The current then passes into
this small apparatus here with a bulb attached, which regulates the
voltage and sends it up to the instruments in a uniform flow, no matter
at what speed the airplane may be going."

"That's a cheap way of getting current," declared the newspaper man,
"and a mighty good one, too."  He now changed the subject by asking:
"How much do you suppose this machine weighs?"

"I have been in smaller ones which weighed, unloaded, as much as three
thousand pounds," admitted John Ross, with a peculiar smile.  "Put your
hands under the Sky-Bird's nose here and see if you can lift her, Mr.
Giddings."

"Don't joke that way, John," expostulated Mr. Giddings.  "Why, her
engines are right above this portion of her, and I couldn't lift one of
them alone."

"Just try it anyhow, dad," persisted Bob, who also wore that queer
smile.

More to accommodate them than because he expected to accomplish
anything, the publisher half-heartedly braced himself in a crouching
position and pushed upward on the airplane's front.  To his amazement
the whole forward part of the machine rose upward a foot in the air, as
if it were made of paper.

"My word!" exclaimed Mr. Giddings, letting the craft back upon its
wheels.  "Who would have thought such a thing?  I had faith in this
principle of the hollow wings and helium-gas, boys, but I never thought
it could reduce the normal weight of the plane to such a vast extent,
It is truly a wonderful idea."

"You might not believe it, but the Sky-Bird weighs less than two
hundred pounds as she stands," said Paul.  "Just before you came today,
Mr. Giddings, Bob and I, one at each end, easily lifted her clear off
the floor."

"It's what we aimed for, and we've got it," added John with
satisfaction, while Tom Meeks nodded his head and ejaculated, "I'd say
so!  I'd say so!" his whole broad face abeam.  "This feather lightness
means great lift, great speed, and great cruising range."

"I should think so surely," was the decided response of the newspaper
man.  "I notice you have installed that 'automatic pilot' too.  And
what's that up here in front on top of the cabin?  A searchlight, as I
live!"

"Yes, dad," said Bob; "we thought that would be a good thing in case we
do any night traveling on this tour of the world.  It ought to have
good power, being operated with current from the storage batteries of
the wireless wind-dynamo."

After a little more inspection and further questions, Mr. Giddings took
his departure, promising to be on hand at the hangar the following
morning for the test flight.




CHAPTER IX

THE TEST FLIGHT

John, Paul, and Tom reached the fairgrounds a good full hour ahead of
the scheduled start that Saturday morning.  In fact, Mrs. Ross had
given them an earlier breakfast than usual, so that they could give the
Sky-Bird II a general going over before it came time for her to make
her initial flight.

Of course all three young men were a good deal excited, although they
were careful not to let each other know it, for fear of being the
target for a little fun from the others.  In this effort at reserve,
the irrepressible Tom was the least successful of the trio, as might be
expected, and when he caught John and Paul slyly winking at each other
and glancing in his direction as he nervously tried the same control
for the third time, he blurted out: "Oh, you fellows needn't laugh at
me!  You're just as much on edge as I am, now that we're really going
to fly this old bird!"

"Come, Tom, don't try to cover up your nervousness by accusing us of
the same thing," protested Paul.

"You're as agitated as a young kid with his first electric toy train,
Tom," laughed John.  "How much gasoline have we got in the tanks now?"

"The gauge shows ten gallons," said Tom, bending down and looking at
the instrument-board in front of the pilot's seat.

"That isn't enough for a decent flight," declared John.  "We'll
probably be out for at least an hour, and we may use as much as fifteen
gallons in that time; that's about half the consumption of ordinary
airplanes, you know.  We'll shove in twenty gallons more so as to be on
the safe side."

"We haven't put in any oil yet," reminded Tom.  "We'd better put in
about two gallons, I should say.  Most planes use about a half-gallon
to the hour; if we use half as much, that will give us plenty of
grease."

The tanks were in the lower part of the forward fuselage.  With the
caps removed, a hose was inserted by Paul, and then John forced the
gasoline up by a small but powerful handpump until the gauge told that
the required additional twenty gallons were in.  The same pump would
work with the oil also, and soon the viscid fluid had been transferred
from the storage can on the hangar floor to its proper tank in the
airplane.  Thence it would feed itself up into the carbureter of the
working engine by a force-pump attached to the engine, as with the
gasoline.

The boys had just finished putting in the fuel when Mr. Giddings and
Bob drove up in the former's automobile.

"I expect this is a great day for you young men?" said the publisher,
with a smile of greeting to all.  "I know it is a time I have looked
forward to myself for a good many months,--ever since I accepted the
challenge of the _Clarion_, in fact.  Is the Sky-Bird supplied with
gasoline?"

"Yes, sir," said John; "we just got through with that job.  We have
easily enough fuel aboard now for a couple of hours' flight, and that
will be long enough for a first one.  New engines are always 'stiff'
and should not be run too long at a stretch."

"Have you run this pair yet?"

"Oh, yes," said Bob.  "We have tried them out several times, dad, and
in connection with the propeller, too.  They work tip-top, either
connected or disconnected.  I tell you, when they're in connection they
certainly do make this big propeller hum!"

"I can't understand how you can operate the propeller in here," said
Mr. Giddings, much puzzled.  "All the airplanes I have seen have always
dashed forward as soon as their propellers began to revolve under
impulse of the motor or motors; there was no restraining them.  I
should think this machine would run through the front end of the hangar
here as soon as you--"

"Pardon me, sir," interrupted John, "but we have gone those fellows one
better.  You forget that in the drawings we showed you there was a set
of brakes designed to be worked by a control within reach of the pilot,
brakes which will engage these ground wheels a good deal the same as
brakes work on automobiles--by a flexible band of steel and grit-filled
cotton which is made to compress over a large sort of hub on the inner
side of each wheel."

"Very good," said Mr. Giddings; "but I understand that has been tried
before, with the result that the airplane at once tipped forward and
stuck its nose into the ground, or rather tried to, smashing its
propeller to smithereens."

"They will do that every time unless something has been devised to
counteract this tendency to pitch over," explained John.  "We have
devised the thing to prevent it, Mr. Giddings."

"See here, dad," put in Bob at this point.  "Stoop down a bit and look
under the forward end of the body here."

His father did as requested, and Bob pointed out a circular opening
about the size of a saucer, from which protruded the end of an
aluminum-encased shaft bearing a small rubber-tired wheel of very
sturdy proportions.

"That is our preventer, dad," smiled his son.

"In a few minutes we'll show you how it works," added John Ross.  "I
see you are wearing a cap, sir, as I suggested.  That is all the
special dress you will need, as our enclosed cabin makes helmets and
close bundling unnecessary.  We fellows will wear our regular working
togs."

Everything being in readiness, the four young men easily pushed the big
airplane out of the building and to a place where it would have a
smooth runway for a hundred yards ahead.  The weather was ideal for the
trip.  There was little wind, and the few strato-cumulus clouds which
were visible showed great stretches of azure-blue sky between them.

"Everybody climb in," ordered Tom, with a wave of his hand.  "I'll
crank her up.  You take the joy-stick, John."

All hands complied.  Then Tom began to turn the big burnished
propeller, just as John threw a lever from the inside which caused the
auxiliary ground wheel to shoot down and engage the sod.  At the same
time the movement of another lever by Paul set the airplane's brakes.

Several times Tom turned the propeller around.  Then, with a pop, the
engine cylinders began to fire, Tom jumped swiftly back, and the
propeller whirred like a mad thing.  At the same time the Sky-Bird gave
a start, as though to dash forward; but beyond a steady, slight
vibration of her whole body, as Tom slowed down the motor to four
hundred revolutions per minute, there was no indication to her inmates
that she was straining to get away.  Tom now quietly mounted the step,
and came into the cabin, pulling the step up after him and closing the
self-locking door.

"That shows you how this third ground wheel acts, dad!" cried Bob
triumphantly to his father, who sat in a chair adjoining.  "Now watch
the old girl jump ahead when Paul throws back the brake lever and his
brother lifts the third wheel and gives her more gas!"

The changes were made even as he spoke; the propeller's hum grew into a
mild roar through the cabin walls, and the Sky-Bird leaped away over
the ground, gaining momentum at every yard.  To the surprise of even
two such veteran flyers as John Ross and Tom Meeks, the airplane had
gone less than fifty yards when she began to rise as gracefully as a
swallow in response to her up-turned ailerons and elevators.  In less
than ten seconds she was well up over the fair-grounds, and the roofs
of all the buildings in the neighborhood were seen below them.

John kept the machine mounting at a good angle until the altimeter
showed them to be up two thousand feet.  Then he straightened out the
ailerons and elevators, and began to run on a level keel.  The other
inmates of the cabin noticed, by looking through the observation
windows, that he was gradually bearing in a great circle about the town
of Yonkers.  Off to the northwestward were the rugged blue crags of the
Catskills, covered with patches of milk-white snow, and just in front,
winding like a huge serpent among the picturesque foothills, was the
sparkling Hudson, dwindling away to a mere silver thread in the north,
tapering away in the same manner toward the south, where it lapped the
piers of the city of New York and immediately afterward lost itself in
the waters of the Upper Bay.  Although the great skyscrapers of the big
city itself could be dimly seen, they looked very small at that
distance.

Directly below them our friends could make out the familiar buildings
and landmarks of their own town as they swept past one by one, John
purposely flying at reduced speed so that a clearer vision could be
had.  He also shot down to within a thousand feet, presently, as he saw
his own home approaching.  Someone, whom both John and Paul immediately
recognized as their mother, stood in the door waving a handkerchief.
In recognition, Paul drew down one of the sliding windows, and put out
his head and fluttered his own handkerchief.  Shortly afterward--it
seemed not more than a minute--the machine was over Shadynook Hill, and
Bob and his father were waving a similar salute to Mrs. Giddings.

As they swept on, men and women and children could be seen looking up
from the streets beneath.  Most of these people were used to seeing
airplanes, but obviously the bright finish of the Sky-Bird II, and its
striking eagle-like appearance created more than passing notice.

Those in the cabin were amazed to note how effectually the new muffler
and the walls of the cabin shut out the sounds of operation.  It was
very easy for them to talk back and forth with each other by using a
fairly strong pitch of voice, even when the machine was running at a
good rate, as it now began to do, for John once more gave the engine
more gas, and turned the airplane skyward.  Up, up they shot like a
rocket.  The hand on the dial of the altimeter moved along steadily--it
reached 2 again, passed to 3, 4, 5, 6; the earth seemed literally to be
falling away from them.  All at once, when they were between six and
seven thousand feet high, and watching the minute patches of color far
below, which represented buildings, houses, hills, and the like, these
objects were swept away, and through the glass plates of the cabin
floor they could see nothing but a gray vapor below them.  It was also
around them.

"We're passing up through a cloud," said Bob to his father, who had
never been in an airplane before.  A moment or two later, the boy
added, as the blue sky could once more be seen below, "Now we're above
it, dad."

"It seems to be getting colder," remarked Mr. Giddings.

"It always gets colder the higher one goes," informed Paul.

"I hope you're not getting cold feet, dad?" grinned Bob.

"Oh, I'm comfortable, thank you," laughed his father.  "Say, son, isn't
this as good a time as any to try out the merits of that wireless
'phone of yours?  Can you work it from this height?"

"I don't know why I can't--and three times higher," Bob said; "we'll
try it right now.  When I left home I told Sis to mind the set there in
my room, and watch for my signal.  We'll see now if I can get in touch
with her."

So saying, Bob put on the wireless helmet, threw the switch, and kept
repeating, "Hello, Sis! hello, Sis! hello, Sis!" for a few moments in
the transmitter.  Then he said, after a brief silence: "I get you,
Betty.  Won't answer you now, as I want dad to talk to you."

With that Bob smiled, removed the headpiece, and slipped it over his
father's head, exchanging seats with him.

Mr. Giddings now heard a voice--the voice of his own daughter--asking
quite distinctly:

"Do you hear me, daddie?"

"I certainly do, Betty," said he; "where are you?"

"Here at home--up in Robert's room.  I never thought I'd be sometime
talking with you when you were flying through the air.  Mother just
called upstairs and says she can't see the Sky-Bird any longer.  Where
are you now?"

"Up above the clouds somewhere just north of Yonkers," replied Mr.
Giddings laconically.

"Oh, goodness!  I must run right down and tell mother.  Please don't go
too high or too far, daddie, will you?" came the clearly agitated tones
of the daughter.  "Is Robert all right?"

"Indeed he is.  We'll soon be back with you and tell you all about it.
Everything is working perfectly.  Good-bye, Betty!"

And Mr. Giddings arose with a pleased laugh, and hung up the helmet.
"I'll take off my hat to you, Robert," he said.  "I never thought your
fussing at home all these years with electric batteries, buzzers, and
what not, would amount to anything like this."

The Sky-Bird II was now running straight ahead with the speed of the
wind, John giving the craft more and more gas, and crowding her pretty
close to the limit.  The wind swept by both sides of the streamlike
cabin with a rushing sound like the distant roar of a huge cataract;
the flexible window glass gave slightly to its pressure, but there was
no sign of it breaking.  One minute they were in the midst of a cumulus
cloud; the next, through it.  Now they saw the faint outline of the
earth, now sky; now the earth was screened by cloud, but above were the
blue heavens.

"Guess how fast we're making it now?" cried John, one eye on the dial
which connected with the propeller-shaft.

"A hundred miles," ventured Mr. Giddings.

"Hundred and thirty," guessed Paul and Bob.

"Hundred and eighty," stated the more experienced Tom.

"All too low," said John.  "We're going just exactly two hundred and
fifty, if this speedometer doesn't lie!"

He now announced that he was going to throw in the idle engine.  This
was done successfully, and under the extra power they were soon making
the remarkable speed of three hundred miles an hour!  John then slowed
up and disconnected first one motor and then the other, the airplane
continuing to fly with unimpaired smoothness.

As a last test, he dropped to a level of three thousand feet, at which
time they were considerably north of Albany, and throwing the
automatic-pilot into operation calmly removed his hands and feet from
every control except the rudder.  In this fashion they ran for fifteen
or twenty miles on a perfectly even keel, the apparatus automatically
working the elevators and ailerons of the craft as various wind
currents tended to disturb its equilibrium.  At length, John gave a
little twist to the rudder, and the way the Sky-Bird began to circle,
and to bank of her own accord, was a splendid sight to behold.  No
hawk, sailing over a barnyard in quest of an unwary fowl, could have
performed the trick more beautifully.

As the flyers now headed for home they were all much elated at the
success of the first flight of the new airplane.  And as it gracefully
swooped down into the fair-grounds a little later, coming to a stop in
a surprisingly short run over the ground owing to her braking feature,
this elation was increased.




CHAPTER X

FINAL PREPARATIONS

After getting out of the airplane, Mr. Giddings was thoughtful for some
minutes.  Nor did he speak until the boys had pushed the machine into
the hangar.  Then he said, with deep earnestness:

"Young men, a great load has been removed from my mind by this recent
performance of the Sky-Bird II.  I have now not the slightest doubts of
her adaptability to make a round-the-world trip, and if she performs
then as she did this morning, we are not only going to defeat the
_Clarion_'s crew, but we are going to smash all existing records for a
journey of the kind.  I wish to know if you really think you could
operate this machine steadily night and day, say for a couple of weeks,
stopping only for fuel and food?"

"By alternating the engines--yes, sir; no doubt of it," declared John
Ross without a moment's hesitation, while Tom Meeks nodded his frowsy
head energetically.

"Then," said Mr. Giddings, "you may consider that's what the entire
four of you will have to do in a few months, as soon as we can pick out
a route and get fuel supplies at the different airports or stops for
you.  John, you and Tom may consider yourselves under salary right on
until after this race; there will be enough for you to do, helping me
with arrangements and taking care of the airplane."

"Well, but how about Paul and me, dad?" broke in Bob anxiously; "aren't
we going to have anything to do?"

"Oh, you two will have enough to do going to school, I think," laughed
Mr. Giddings; "but, to satisfy you, I will let you both help John and
Tom select a route and make out a schedule.  Do this just as soon as
you can, so that I may be able to give Mr. Wrenn, the publisher of the
_Clarion_, a copy.  He can then make intelligent preparations for his
own crew.  I am going to give my rival every consideration in this
matter, so that he cannot do any howling if we beat him.  It must be an
out-and-out fair race, do you understand?"

All nodded.

"Have you heard anything about the other crew yet, Mr. Giddings?"
inquired Paul.  "I mean, do you know what sort of a craft they are
going to use, or who is going to fly against us?"

"I am as much in the dark about those points as you young men," was the
reply.  "I judge that Mr. Wrenn, who is an astute business man, will
keep us in ignorance of his personnel until the last minute.  The fact
is, I am going to treat him to a dose of his own medicine in this
respect.  So be careful not to let the public get close to this
machine, and talk with no one about it."

With that the publisher and Bob drove home, but the latter came back in
the afternoon, and all four young men immediately repaired to the
Yonkers Public Library with a blank tablet, there to work out the route
and schedule.

It was no easy task.  In the first place, they wished the route to be
as close to the equator at all times as possible, so that their line of
travel would approximate in distance the world's estimated
circumference of 24,899 miles.  In the second place, for stops they
must choose cities or towns with either established landing-fields, or
with grounds level enough for this purpose.  In the third place, these
airports must be so divided that they would not have to be visited
during the hours of darkness, for few if any of them would be likely to
have efficient enough lighting systems to make night landings safe.

Within fifteen minutes the boys had the long table in front of them
literally covered with geographies, atlases, loose maps, and
encyclopaedias.  Paul even brought up a globe as large as a pumpkin,
while Bob was not content until he had secured a score of back numbers
of travel magazines.  Into this divers collection of diagrams and
reading matter they dove with an avidity which would have surprised the
teachers they had when they were in grammar school, if they could have
seen them.  It soon became evident that they would not only need a
route and schedule to make their journey successful, but also an
enormous amount of general information about the countries they would
pass over.

"We'll have to study trade winds, oceanic storm conditions,
temperatures, inhabitants, topography, and so forth, and so forth,"
drawled Tom Meeks.  "Say, fellows, I feel like kicking myself to think
I didn't study my geography more and shoot paper-wads less, when I was
a kid at school."

"We'll have to do a lot of cramming, that's sure," averred John; "but
we have several months for that.  Just now we want to jump into this
route and schedule."

They made up several tentative routes, only to discard them.  Finally,
after several hours' work, they had one which everybody seemed to agree
was the best that could be picked out.  With the schedule, which was
figured on the basis of 120 miles an hour airplane speed, the draft
looked like this:

   _Miles   Airport            Arrive            Leave_
   ----     PANAMA          ------------       1:00p   20th
   1672     Georgetown      5:30a   21st       7:30a   21st
   1154     Para            6:00p   21st       9:00p   21st
   2402     Freetown        6:15p   22d        9:15p   22d
   1980     Kuka            1:00p   23d        8:00p   23d
   2015     Aden            6:00a   24th       9:00a   24th
   2116     Colombo         5:30a   25th       8:30a   25th
   1612     Singapore       6:00p   25th       9:00p   25th
   2218     Port Darwin     5:30p   26th       8:30p   26th
   3826     Apia            5:45a  *27th       8:45a   27th
   2100     Nukahiva        9:00a   28th      12:00n   28th
   3154     San Cristobal   6:00p   29th       9:00p   29th
    650     PANAMA          5:30a   30th      -------------
  -----
  24899

* Gain of 1 day by reason of crossing 180th Meridian, or International
Date Line, between Port Darwin and Apia.


Bob Giddings carried home a copy of this schedule, and the following
Monday morning all four young men met by appointment in the private
office of the publisher of the _Daily Independent_.  After they were
seated, Mr. Giddings brought forth the tentative draft, studied it a
few moments, and then asked:

"What is your fuel capacity, boys?"

"Our tanks will hold enough gasoline and oil to carry us a little
better than five thousand miles, throttled down to an average of one
hundred and twenty miles an hour, the basis on which we figured out
this schedule, sir," answered John.

"Would it make a difference if you flew faster than that?"

"Oh, yes," said John; "the faster a pilot flies the more fuel he uses
per mile.  Full out--that is, going at the limit of her speed--the
Sky-Bird probably would not cover more than three-thousand miles."

"I am glad to know this," said Mr. Giddings.  "I see that your cruising
radius is sufficient to cover your longest jumps at any reasonable
speed.  Let me see; you allow yourselves three hours' stop at each
airport; will that be long enough?"

"Plenty, sir," said Tom; "we figure that we can easily refuel in that
time, and attend to any local affairs we may have."

"I notice your total mileage is exactly equal to the estimated
circumference of the world," remarked the publisher.  "That shows great
care in the selection of this route to meet my viewpoint; but may I ask
how you know your distances between airports, as here recorded, are
correct?  From whence did you get these mileages?"

"Bob and I figured them out, sir," spoke up Paul.

"How?"

"Why, like this, dad," explained Bob.  "We knew there were 360 degrees
to the world; we divided the circumference of 24,899 miles by 360, and
obtained approximately 69.5 miles to a degree.  By taking a map of the
world and finding the number of degrees between any two airports it was
not difficult to come pretty close to the actual distance in miles
between them."

"Very good; very good, indeed," approved his father.  "I think I have
the right sort of men on this job.  But here is another thing which
occurs to me: Have you based your time of arrival and leaving at each
port upon local time or New York time?"

"Local time," stated Paul.  "If we had not done so we could not have
arranged the schedule with any accuracy at all, as regards daylight and
darkness and the lapping of time.  With our watches set to New York
time, we might expect to land at a station in broad daylight, only to
find that we were really coming in after dark.  Another thing: Our
figuring showed us that the lappages of time, all added together,
exactly totaled one day of twenty-four hours, which we gain by
traveling eastward.  So, while the schedule on a calendar at home would
only show ten days which we would be gone, we would in reality be away
one day longer, or eleven."

"Your local times may be wrong," hinted Mr. Giddings.

"I don't think so, sir; we proved them correct," stated Paul, with
conviction.

"How?"

"After the same method we used in getting the mileage, sir.  You see,
we knew that time eastward keeps getting later, and that this rate is
four minutes to every degree.  We just counted the degrees between
places and figured it out on that basis."

"Splendid!" exclaimed Mr. Giddings, who was far from as ignorant of
these processes as he led his visitors to suppose.  "Boys, I wish to
compliment you very highly upon this piece of work.  When I first
looked at the schedule and saw that an airplane meeting its
requirements would make this trip squarely around the world in seven
and a half hours less than ten days I could scarcely credit my senses,
and I figured it all over to make sure you had made no mistake.  I
found out you had not.  If you can maintain an average speed of one
hundred and twenty miles, and can make up any unforeseen delays by
greater speed, I must admit it really looks possible for you to be back
inside of ten days.  That is better than I actually hoped for, young
men,--far better!  In fact the situation, as I view it, contains
wonderful opportunities for both newspapers in the way of sales and
advertising.  I do not doubt but that I can handle this affair in such
a manner that I can afford to give each of you five thousand dollars if
you make the journey within these ten days."

"Five thousand dollars!" cried our friends in unison, while Bob
exploded: "But, dad, just how do you figure this out?"

"Mr. Wrenn and I will exploit this contest in our newspapers--let the
whole universe know that it is coming off; advise the people that the
aviators are to be provided with the most modern airplanes, and
equipped with wireless by means of which they will keep us informed
frequently of their whereabouts; that they will have cameras and send
us pictures; that these bulletins shall be issued in extra editions of
our newspapers at least three or four times a day; and to cap the
climax, we will put up large bulletin boards in front of our buildings,
on which there will be painted a chart of the trip, showing every
scheduled stop, country, and ocean crossed.  This will be electrically
lighted at night, and as you boys fly in your machine away off in some
distant part of the world, our bulletin board operators will follow
your course on their huge charts, and represent you with a miniature
airplane.  In fact, I plan to get the _Clarion_ to 'phone over reports
of their crew as fast as received, I doing likewise with them, and then
we can have two dummy airplanes on each of our boards, showing the race
in earnest at all stages of the journey.  This would cause great
excitement to the street onlookers.  All in all, it would make our
newspapers the most talked about in the whole country, we would gain
thousands of new subscribers, millions of extras would be sold,
thousands of dollars' worth of new advertising contracts could be made,
and our present rates increased on account of our new prestige.  Now,
you see, it will be up to you young men to keep our office supplied
with your whereabouts as often as you can.  Do that, and beat our rival
crew, and I shall be pretty well satisfied if you don't quite make the
trip in ten days."

"We will do our part, sir," responded John, speaking for all.

There was a little further talk; and then they took their leave, well
satisfied with the turn of events, and each determined to win his five
thousand dollar trophy if it were at all possible.




CHAPTER XI

OFF FOR PANAMA

That same afternoon Mr. Giddings called upon his business rival, Mr.
Wrenn, of the _Clarion_, and presented to him the tentative program for
the great race around the world's girdle, as the _Daily Independent_
had planned it.  Mr. Wrenn declared that he was willing to stand by his
former agreement to allow the _Independent_ to select the route, and
said it was entirely satisfactory to him, and that he would at once
take steps to have fuel supplies on hand at the various airports for
his crew when they should arrive.  He made no comments as to his own
airplane, but agreed that the advertising plan his caller had worked
out was a capital one, stating that he would co-operate heartily with
him in carrying it to a successful conclusion.

Mr. Giddings was considerably surprised that Mr. Wrenn made no
objection to the longest "hops" on the route, which were of greater
extent than the average airplane could make, and was ready to modify
the arrangement if there had been any objection.  But even when he
particularly called this matter to the other publisher's attention, Mr.
Wrenn only smiled serenely, saying, "Those hops are perfectly
satisfactory to us," leaving Mr. Giddings with a deep wonderment as to
what sort of aircraft the _Clarion_ proposed using.

"I am under the impression that our contemporary has something up his
sleeve, but I cannot conceive what it can be," Mr. Giddings confided to
his son that evening upon reaching home; and when Bob repeated this to
the Ross boys and Tom Meeks next day, they too began to wonder more
than ever what type of an airplane the _Clarion_ proposed using against
them, and who the crew might be.

"Did your father and Mr. Wrenn decide upon a date for the start?" asked
Paul.

"Yes," replied Bob; "they made it the 20th of July, this summer,
weather permitting.  We start from Panama at one o'clock in the
afternoon."

"Our curiosity as to the identity of our competitors will be satisfied
then, at least," laughed John.

"And their curiosity, too!" put in Tom.  "I'll stake my last cent
they're just as much in the dark about us and the Sky-Bird II as we are
about their outfit."

"We'll hope so, anyhow," remarked Bob; "but ever since we had those
blue-prints stolen, and found we had a stranger sneaking around the
hangar, I've been uneasy."

At this reference, all the young men felt a strange oppression.  They
had talked over it more than once, and each time it had left them with
a sense of peril to their interests, why they could not tell.  As
before, they now tried to laugh it off, and began to talk about other
subjects.

There was still considerable to do in the way of preparing the Sky-Bird
and themselves for the long trip, and for weeks all four boys were kept
hustling to make the final installations of accessories and equipment.
Bob rigged up a wireless telegraph in connection with his telephone
set, and for protection, four good repeating rifles and an automatic
shotgun were put in racks in the after-cabin, while each fellow
provided himself with an automatic revolver which he would carry in a
holster attached to a belt.  Medium-weight flying suits, with a heavy,
wool-lined coat to slip on in case they flew very high, and trim flying
boots and soft gloves, made up the personal toggery.

Whenever the boys found a chance they went to the public library and
absorbed all the knowledge they could about the countries over which
they would pass and the places at which they were destined to stop.  By
writing to the authorities in these localities, Mr. Giddings also
secured much valuable information for them as to present weather
conditions and landing-fields--information which was further
supplemented by numerous special airway maps supplied by the Aero Club
of America and similar aviation organizations in foreign countries.
From these maps Paul worked out a very clear chart of their own course
from beginning to end.  A copy was given to each of the newspaper
publishers concerned, to reproduce on their large electric street
boards, and another was framed and placed immediately in front of the
pilot's seat in the cabin of the Sky-Bird II.

All this time the columns of the _Daily Independent_ and the _Clarion_
contained frequent vivid references to features of the trip calculated
to awaken the interest of the public, and as the time slipped along
into July, the attention of people all over the land was centered upon
the forthcoming contest, and it became the principal subject for
comment.  The secrecy maintained by both principals as to the kind of
aircraft to be used, and the mystery as to identity of the members of
the respective crews, only whetted curiosity and interest the more, as
the sharp newspaper men knew it would.  Every man, woman, and child in
the wide world seemed to be eagerly waiting for the moment to come when
he or she would see the promised pictures of the bold aviators and
their machines in the big newspapers, and hear that they had made their
first jump eastward from Panama.

All being in readiness, at daybreak on the morning of July 16th the
Ross boys and Tom Meeks appeared at the Sky-Bird's hangar, and pushed
the airplane outside.  As they were doing so, Mr. Giddings and Bob
joined them.  The publisher had planned to accompany his crew to Panama
in the machine, to see them officially off, while his reporters made
the journey by train, in company with the writing force of the rival
paper.

"We'll keep the time of our going secret, leaving before people are
generally up," Mr. Giddings had said to the boys; "and by going on the
16th we'll not only be ahead of their smart calculations, but we shall
have about half a week to rest up and see the country down there before
you begin your strenuous journey.  I need a little vacation anyway, so
I will accompany you.  We will stop off at Miami on the way, and enjoy
some big-game fishing in the Florida waters with some of my friends."

So the young men were very much excited and eager to be off this
morning of the 16th, you may be sure.  The Sky-Bird was tuned up a
little to make certain she was in first-class condition, then they all
climbed in and the big glistening creature of wood, metal, and silk
shot up into the air.  It would probably be close to three weeks before
they would see that familiar field and hangar again, and in that time
if all went well they would circle the huge globe upon which they and
their fellow-men lived.  It was truly a most inspiring thought--one to
have filled less phlegmatic blood than theirs with the wildest
pulsations!

The weather was not at all promising, masses of gray nimbus-cloud
threatening to shut out the sun as it arose, with a promise of
uncertain winds, if not rain; but John and Tom declared the conditions
all the better for giving the machine a good test-out.

They climbed slowly upward through the cheerless, mist-laden skies, the
engine well throttled back and running as smoothly as any engine could.
To make sure that all was in perfect working order, they circled for
ten minutes over the town, trying the different controls, then turned
the Sky-Bird southward.

At two thousand feet they suddenly emerged from the fog belt into
brilliant sunshine, but the world below was lost to sight, screened by
a dense pall of mist.  Accordingly, Tom Meeks, who was acting as pilot,
set a compass course for Cape Hatteras, the first guide-post along the
Atlantic coast, some five hundred miles distant.  After an hour's
steady running, John took the throttle, followed later by Bob, and
finally Paul.  It was a new sensation to the last-named youths to be
piloting the airplane out of view of the earth's surface, relying
solely for safety and position upon the compass and altimeter, and
knowing that somewhere far below them swept the rolling billows of the
ocean; but they enjoyed it immensely.

Finally, just as John declared they ought to be close to their
objective, the winds freshened and made a great rift in the fog below
them, through which they could plainly see the grand old Carolina
coast-line a little way ahead and to their right.  Between the main
shore and the long spine-like series of reefs constituting the cape
itself, sparkled the waters of numerous sounds, while the
weather-beaten lighthouse on the extreme elbow of Hatteras stood out
like a stick of white chalk against the rocky gray background of its
support.

All were delighted with the accuracy with which they had made their
first guide-post, as John and Mr. Giddings checked their bearings on
the chart.  The Sky-Bird had behaved splendidly so far, and if she
continued in that way they ought to reach their destination well before
nightfall, even at the reduced speed at which they had been flying,
which had averaged not much more than a hundred miles an hour.

It now became a question whether they should leisurely follow along the
inwardly curving coast-line, taking in Savannah, Charleston, and
Jacksonville, as guide-posts, or save a hundred miles or more by flying
straight across the waters to Miami.  As they wished to test out each
member's ability to operate by compass rather than by landmarks, it was
decided to take the shorter route.  So gradually they left the rugged
American shore behind and swept farther and farther out to sea.

The Sky-Bird II was flying as steady as a rock.  All the bracing wires
were tuned to a nicety, the wind humming through them and along the
smooth sides of the great creature's body with a whistling monotone
which arose and fell with bewitching rhythm as the force fluctuated.
The varnish and fire-proofing compound glistened brightly in the
sunshine, attracting the attention of numerous seabirds, mostly gulls
and ospreys, which followed them at times for short distances, only to
be outdistanced.  The engine was running at less than half its possible
speed, and purring like a contented kitten after a meal of fresh milk.
The clouds and fog had cleared away; the sky was as bright now as a sky
ever gets; far beneath, the blue-green waters of the Atlantic, flecked
with white-topped waves, spread on all sides.  Two torpedo-boats,
looking like toys, went northward, and tiny white waving specks showed
that the Jacks aboard were waving a salute to them.  Off seaward a
black trailing blot against the horizon showed where some unseen
steamship plowed her way between ports.  Mr. Giddings and the boys were
filled with admiration.

A small airplane is ideal for short flights, joyriding the heavens, or
sight-seeing among the clouds; but there is something more majestic and
stable about a big machine like the Sky-Bird II which a pilot soon
begins to love with a passion he never feels toward the little 'plane.
An exquisite community of spirit grows up between machine and pilot;
each, as it were, merges into the vitals of the other.  The levers and
controls are the nervous system of the airplane, through which the will
of the aviator may be expressed--expressed in an infinitely fine
degree.  Indeed, a flying-machine is something entirely apart from and
above all other contrivances of man's ingenuity.  It is the nearest
thing to animate life which man has created.  In the air an airplane
ceases to be a mere piece of dumb mechanism; it seems to throb with
feeling, and is capable not only of primary guidance and control, but
actually of expressing a pilot's temperament.

The lungs of the machine--its engines--are the crux of man's mechanical
wisdom and skill.  Their marvelous reliability and intricacy are almost
as awesome as the human anatomy.  When both engines are going well, and
synchronized to the same speed, the roar of the exhausts develops into
one long-sustained and not inharmonious _boom-m-m-m-m!_  It is a song
of pleasant melody to the pilot, whose ear is ever pricked to catch the
first semblance of a "sharp" or "flat" note telling him that one or
more of the twelve cylinders of each busy engine is missing fire and
needs a little doctoring.

It was about four o'clock that afternoon when our party first sighted
the low, out-jutting sea-coast of Florida.  As they came slowly toward
it, by reason of their angular course of approach, they could gradually
make out a group of green palms here and there along the white
stretches of sand, and see clusters of light-colored buildings, piers,
shipping, and people moving about.  Thus they passed Juno and Palm
Beach, and then saw the thicker cluster of fine dwellings of Miami
itself, the most southerly city on the Florida mainland.

Paul was guiding the Sky-Bird at this time, and turned her across the
limpid waters of Biscayne Bay, cutting a huge circle above the town and
slowly swooping downward toward the broad white beach, as he picked out
a level stretch for landing.  Townspeople who had been watching the
strange airplane, so much like a great bird, now ran forward to see it
land.

A moment later, with a graceful drop and upward curve, it struck the
sandy beach and ran forward lightly until the brakes were applied and
it was brought to a standstill.




CHAPTER XII

FIGHTING A DEVIL-FISH

Many questions were asked our friends by the onlookers, but they gave
them evasive replies, being careful to let out no hint as to their real
identity and connection with the approaching race around the world.
Two husky negroes were engaged to watch the airplane until relieved
from such responsibility, and Mr. Giddings then led the boys to the
home of a Mr. Choate, a close and trusted friend and superintendent of
the big Miami Aquarium, one of the most noted repositories for live
fish in the country.

Mr. Choate was astonished beyond measure when he learned that his old
friend had come in the big airplane which he and his wife had noticed
over the town a short time before, and was still further surprised when
Mr. Giddings bound him to secrecy and told him that the young men with
him constituted the crew of one of the two airplanes which was so soon
to circle the earth by way of the equator.  He shook hands warmly with
them, and with his charming wife made them all very much at home.

Than Mr. Choate, no man in the South knew more about the multitudinous
varieties of fish inhabiting Florida waters.  He was not only an
authority on them, but he was also recognized as a most skillful
catcher of fish.  For over an hour that evening he told them absorbing
stories of the habits of Gulf Stream denizens, and recited stirring
tales of battles with some of the biggest of them.  And when he finally
announced, "To-morrow I shall see that you are given a taste of our
wonderful fish-life by joining me in a fishing expedition," they could
hardly get to sleep for thinking of the fine prospect.

After breakfast the next morning, their host conducted them down to the
waterside and into the beautiful white concrete buildings of the
aquarium, and here he proceeded to show them, swimming about in great
glass tanks, the most wonderful collection of fish they had ever seen
outside of the big New York aquarium itself.

"You probably never realized before," said Mr. Choate, "that in the
warm waters of the Gulf Stream, between Miami and Key West, more than
600 varieties of fish are to be found.  They vary in size all the way
from the tiny sea-horse, the size of a baby's little finger, to the
great tarpon and killer-whale, the latter a vicious creature weighing
many tons and large enough to swallow a good-sized boy without scraping
the buttons off his jacket."

"It must be a lot of sport to catch some of these fairly big fish,"
remarked John Ross.

"Well, this afternoon I shall take you fellows where you can all have a
chance at them," said Mr. Choate with a smile.  "It would be
interesting to have a motion-picture record of the thoughts which flash
through the mind of the average inland fisherman the first time he
feels the tiger-like swoop of a five-foot barrancuda, the fierce yank
of a hundred-pound amber-jack, or the sullen surge of a big grouper on
his line; for even when armed with the heaviest rod, and a line as big
around as a silver dollar, he is pretty sure to wish, at least
subconsciously, that his tackle might be twice as formidable and his
arm twice as strong.  Just imagine yourself, for instance, out in the
clear blue waters of the Gulf Stream, looking overboard at your baited
hook thirty feet below, which you can see as plainly as if it were in
no water at all.  Then up comes a great jewfish, which is just as
likely to weigh five hundred pounds as fifty, and to be as large as a
good-sized Shetland pony, and he makes a lunge for your bait, and--
Well, you can go right on imagining the rest, too."

In all, they visited a half-hundred tanks of fish before they were
through, watching this group and that group of inmates disporting
themselves about in the salty water with apparent unconcern of
visitors.  In markings some of them rivaled the most beautiful designs
the mind could picture, and others were so brilliant and wonderful in
color that the rainbow was mild in comparison.

From the aquarium our party went up the beach to where the Sky-Bird II
was resting under guard, and putting two new negroes to the task, they
returned and had lunch with Mr. Choate, following which he conducted
them down to the pier and aboard his sea-going motor-yacht, _L'Apache_.
This trim vessel had a crew of five men, and as she started away,
headed for the Bahama Islands, a 25-foot motor-driven tender bobbed
along in her wake.  In this they were to do most of their fishing,
their host declared.

Assisted by the northeastward pressure of the Gulf Stream, they made
splendid progress, and that evening cast anchor behind Bimini, a tiny
isle which rests like a jeweled feather on a summer sea.  It was like
pulling teeth to go below deck for sleep and leave the wondrous beauty
of the tropical night, with the soft, cool touch of the ever-blowing
trade wind, the shadowy grace of the giant coconut-palms swaying and
whispering on the nearby beach in the moonlight, while the surf,
lapping upon the coral reef on the outer side of the isle, lulled them
with its crooning obligato.

At sunrise all hands were up and ready for the sport.  A hot breakfast
was served by the cook, after which they piled aboard the motor-tender,
throwing in rods, lines, and harpoons.

Through the island channel out to the open sea they went, all except
the steersman hanging over the side of the craft and enjoying the
amazing sights in the clear depths below.  Bob excitedly pointed out a
group of six or eight big tarpon lazily wallowing about fifty feet
beneath them.  And less than two minutes afterward, Paul, in no less
excitement, announced the discovery on his side of a big nurse-shark
which was rolling an eye at him from the ocean's floor.  John pointed
out, from the bow, a great school of fish numbering possibly ten
thousand, which Mr. Choate stated were small mangrove-snappers.  They
were parading up and down a stretch of coral shelf along the bottom,
and they made a wild dash and hid in crannies under the coral as a big
barracuda unexpectedly shot into their midst and grabbed one unlucky
snapper.

In a little while the fishermen were out into the open sea, and all
began to scan the pulsating bosom of the Gulf Stream with fresh
interest.  Strange as it may seem, the fish of tropical waters do not
appear to have the slightest apprehension of danger from the noise of a
motor-boat, and one cannot only get very close to them, but can follow
them about and observe their movements without trouble, particularly if
he is familiar with their habits.

In a little while Mr. Giddings called the attention of all to a dark
shadow not far below the surface, about two boat-lengths on the
quarter.  Mr. Choate promptly announced this to be a "herring-hog," a
species of porpoise, and ordered the boat turned that way.

The creature proved to be a full-grown herring-hog, weighing around
four hundred pounds, and as this species destroys great numbers of
foodfish, Mr. Choate made preparations to attack it.  Reaching the
proper position, a hand harpoon was thrown by him.  It found its mark,
and away went the great fish at so fast a clip that the line fairly
smoked as it shot from the reel barrel.  In a few moments it was all
out, and then the motor-boat gave a jump forward and rushed after the
herring-hog.  He was towing it, as if it had been a chip!

The engineer now reversed the propeller.  This act slowed up the
herring-hog noticeably, but still his prodigious strength carried the
craft forward.  It was ten minutes or more before he tired sufficiently
for them to haul him in.

As they were making the big fish fast to the gunwale, a considerable
disturbance was observed on the surface of the water about a quarter of
a mile away.  Mr. Choate judged this fuss to be caused either by a
leopard-shark killing its prey, or by some battle royal between two
equally big denizens of the deep.

Mr. Giddings and the boys were all excited at the thought of getting a
harpoon into a huge leopard-shark, which will fight any and everything
that swims, as well as many things of flesh which do not swim, not
excepting man himself.

But as the boat drew closer, Mr. Choate, who seemed to have uncanny
eyesight plus long experience with subsea life, added greatly to the
nervousness of his guests by suddenly exclaiming: "Stand by, men; it's
the biggest devil-fish I have ever seen!"

At once everybody who could find one, seized a harpoon; and in his
excitement Tom Meeks even picked up an oar, as if to defend himself
against attack!

In a few minutes they were close enough to note that the entire bottom
of the ocean in the area where the creature had been seen had gone
suddenly dark; and in the translucent depths above nearly all of the
party discerned a gigantic shadow moving along.  It looked for all the
world like an immense pancake with bat-like wings.  These wings were
fluttering queerly, and from the action of the fish Mr. Choate said he
was sure it was devouring prey which it had just killed.  He now asked
Paul if he would like to try a cast.  The boy assented eagerly.
Bracing his feet in the bottom of the motor-boat he took good aim and
let his harpoon fly.

Paul had hardly hoped to hit the devil-fish.  And probably he would not
have done so, inexperienced as he was with a harpoon, except for the
fact that the creature was of unusual size and presented a broad mark.
As it chanced, the steel went true.  The devil-fish arose to the
surface as though hurled upward by a submarine explosion.  One of its
great battle-like fins broke above the water, sending gallons of spray
over the occupants of the boat, and splintering the harpoon staff
against the boat's side as if it had been a match stem; then its
ten-foot pectoral wing struck the water with a terrific impact, making
a noise which could have been heard several miles away.

For a moment the monster seemed bewildered, and that moment cost it
dear, for it enabled Bob to throw another harpoon, which stuck deep
into its body near the spine.  With a mad dash it started off to sea,
taking the harpoon lines with it.  As the lines sped out of their
barrels Mr. Choate grasped one and Mr. Giddings the other, aided
respectively by John and Tom, and all hands strained to hold them, but
although they went out slowly, they could not be held, until at length
Paul and Bob came to the rescue and managed to get the ends around
cleats in the boat.

However, this did not stop the devil-fish.  It made out to sea with
remarkable speed for so clumsy-looking a monster, towing the heavy boat
and its inmates after it with the ease of a horse pulling a toy
carriage!  As it went, all hands bore on the lines, adding to its
burden, but for a long time this seemed to have little or no effect.

Every once in a while the devil-fish would literally hurl itself
several feet out of the water, and its huge flat body would come down
with a crack like the explosion of a gun shell.  Perhaps it was
imagination, but each time it broke the surface in one of these
cavortings it seemed to the boys that the fish was bigger than the last
time.

Now and then the creature would sound for deep water, in an effort to
shake its captors off, and several times it went down so far that Mr.
Choate stood ready with upraised hatchet to cut the lines at the last
moment, in the event the bow should show signs of diving under.

All of a sudden the lines slackened, and all hands frantically hauled
in slack, as the devil-fish turned and dashed toward the boat.  He came
up almost under the craft, one great wing actually lifting one side of
the heavy launch well out of the water and giving everybody a pretty
stiff scare.

With quick presence of mind, Mr. Choate at this moment let drive
another harpoon, which found lodgment in the monster's flat head, and
away it dashed again with the greatest vigor.  As there was now a line
leading to each side of the devil-fish's body, those in the motor-boat
found they were able actually to drive their captive as if it were a
runaway horse, a gradual bearing on one "rein" or the other tending to
direct the uncertain creature in that direction.  Thus very adroitly
they swerved the huge fish toward the now distant shore of Bimini,
hoping to master it in the shallower waters of the isle.

By this time the monster had carried them out fully ten miles.  It had
not forgotten its old tactics of deep diving either, and there were
numerous occasions when, after one of these submersions, it came up and
started fiercely toward the boat, and it took the most skillful
maneuvering on the part of the steersman, as well as wicked use of oars
on the part of those in the craft, to drive the creature off and keep
from being upset.

They let their anchor drag, and at times reversed the propeller,
hauling on this side and that on the harpoon lines when the devil-fish
would not be going to suit them.  In this fashion it was slowly but
surely tired out; they began to reel in slack line, and finally the
immense fish was wallowing within twenty feet of the boat, surrounded
by hungry sharks which had been attracted by its blood.  It would never
do to goad it now by hauling in on the lines, as it might dart under
the boat and upset it, and the waiting sharks could then make a meal of
its luckless inmates.  So Mr. Choate told the boys to use their
automatic revolvers and see if they could not dispatch the devil-fish
at once.  This was done, John, Tom, Paul, and Bob all firing several
shots each, which put the monster in such a helpless state that they
could handle it with less danger to themselves.

Until that moment not one of them realized that nearly five hours had
elapsed since they first attacked this Jumbo of the sea, so busy had
they been every moment of the time in trying to conquer the creature.
And everybody was quite exhausted, now that the excitement was over.

Although this fish had three harpoons in his body and a dozen shots in
its head and heart, it was by no means dead, and the fishermen found
considerable difficulty in towing it into the harbor, some miles away.

The natives of Bimini were greatly interested in the capture, and our
friends were able to get fifteen of them to help draw the enormous
carcass ashore where all could get a good look at it.  They were amazed
at the unusual size of the devil-fish, and Mr. Choate declared again
that he had never seen such a large one of its kind.  It measured
twenty-two feet across, and must have weighed close to 5,000 pounds.

"Some people call the octopus a devil-fish," said Mr. Choate.  "This is
all wrong.  They are both large and vicious creatures, but entirely
different in looks.  The devil-fish belongs to the ray family, and, as
you see, is a huge bat-like creature which uses its body fins with a
waving, undulating motion, and propels itself through the water at
remarkable speed."

"It is built on the principle of our airplane--in looks," said Tom with
a grin; "and in speed, too."

"So it is," responded Mr. Choate.  "It derives its satanic name from
these cephalic fins or lobes which extend outward and upward from each
side of its flat head, like curling horns.  When it dashes into a
school of smaller fish, these fins whirl about in every direction, and
as they are often four feet long they easily reach more than one
hapless fish and he is swept into the yardwide mouth of the monster and
devoured with almost lightning speed."

After a rest, the party went out in the motorboat again, this time to
catch foodfish.  They had fine luck, and after an appetizing meal
aboard the _L'Apache_, in which their small catch played an important
part, all set out for Miami, tired and happy.




CHAPTER XIII

THE STRANGE AIRPLANE

The first thing the boys did the following morning, after spending the
night at the home of Mr. Choate, was to go down to the beach and see if
their airplane was all right.  They found one of the two negroes asleep,
but the other fellow was faithfully on guard, and everything about the
Sky-Bird seemed just as they had left it, although the watchers said that
a considerable number of curious townspeople had come to look at the
machine the day before and they had been very busy keeping venturesome
boys off the craft.

Our friends let the negroes go to get their breakfasts and some sleep,
and engaged two others to take up the watch.  Following this, in company
with Mr. Choate, they all retired to the bathhouse, secured bathing suits
and had a fine time disporting themselves in the warm surf for the next
hour.  The youths had never experienced Gulf Stream bathing before, and
the water was so enticing that it was hard to drag themselves out of it.

As they were in the act of emerging to dress themselves, a black speck,
which all had noticed in the northern sky, had developed by nearer
approach so that they thought they could recognize it as an airplane.  It
was coming down the coast very rapidly.  Wondering if its pilot intended
to land in the vicinity, they gathered on the beach and curiously waited
for it to come nearer.

At times they were puzzled to know whether the approaching object were
really an airplane or a great bird, for it surely looked like a bird with
its swelling breast-line and slightly tilted broad-shouldered wings.
Closer and closer it came.  It was flying very high.

When it was almost over them, Mr. Giddings uttered a startled
ejaculation; "My stars, boys!  It's _our_ machine!"

Paul and John Ross and Tom Meeks were equally astonished.  They had
noticed the strong resemblance at the same moment.  Involuntarily, with
Mr. Giddings and Mr. Choate, they turned their heads up the beach to see
if the Sky-Bird II was where they had left it.

They saw its huge outline and its patrolling black guards.  It had not
changed position.  Even a group of gaping Miami citizens lent reality to
the situation, and some of the latter were gazing aloft at the other
flying-machine, as our friends had been doing.

The stranger above them evidently had no intention of stopping.  Instead
of circling the town, as he would have done had he intended to land, he
swept straight over and kept on his southward course, heading across
Florida Strait.

On the face of every one of our friends, as they saw this image of the
Sky-Bird II cross the sky overhead and disappear in the mists beyond, was
a look of amazement, incredulity, and finally dark suspicion.

"Can it be--?"  Mr. Giddings hesitated, and looked inquiringly at his
younger companions.

"It looks that way," said John Ross, with a reluctant nod.

None needed to explain that the same thought had struck him, also.  The
stolen blue-prints--the skulking man with the swarthy face!  He had
duplicated the Sky-Bird!

More than that, each recalled the _Clarion's_ secrecy about the kind of
airplane it planned to use; and its willingness to attempt the long
"hops" which ordinary machines would have had difficulty in negotiating.
It all pointed to but one logical meaning.  And Bob Giddings expressed
the opinion of all when he observed:

"Dad, I believe there goes our prospective competitor in the race around
the world!  He's making for Panama now!"

Further comment on the situation would have been useless.  All hands,
each with disturbing thoughts of his own, went silently into the
bathhouse and resumed his regular garb.

Mr. Choate and his wife begged them so hard to remain over another day at
least that Mr. Giddings assented.  That afternoon they went for a long
automobile ride along improved roads, both sides of which were lined with
palms in places, luxuriant tropical grasses in others, and towering
forests covered with creeping vines.  They stopped the car a number of
times to visit great orange groves, and the boys had their first taste of
the luscious fruit just as it ripened on the trees.

The following morning, directly after breakfast, they were besieged by
two or three local newspaper reporters.  Seeing no use of further
concealing their identity, Mr. Giddings gave out a little information to
the gleeful newspaper men, but was careful to wire in to his own
newspaper much more detail of their doings since leaving Yonkers, even
mailing some photographs which they had taken of the tussle with the big
devil-fish.

In the afternoon our party paid a visit to the aquarium again, extending
it to the Biological Laboratory nearby; and took supper in the beautiful
white casino, which fronts the beach, after they had had a refreshing
plunge in the ocean's waters.  Then Paul and Bob took up Mr. and Mrs.
Choate for a short flight in the airplane.

Early the next morning they bade their Miami friends good-bye, and once
more took to the air, this time to complete the last leg of their journey
to Panama.  It was found that the Sky-Bird's fuel tanks were apparently
still full enough to carry them to their destination, so it had not been
necessary to store either gasoline or oil in Miami.  This was very
gratifying, as it showed quite conclusively that, later on in the race,
the Sky-Bird would be able to make her longest jumps without the peril of
fuel shortage.

At a height of close to two thousand feet they headed across Florida
Strait, with Paul at the throttle.  It was a real joy to be looking
through the glass panels of the airplane's cabin once more, to hear the
muffled roar of her engine and propeller, and to realize that probably
before dark they would be across the five hundred miles of blue waters of
the Caribbean and hovering over the world-famous Canal Zone.

It was a fine morning.  What clouds could be seen were well above
them--light, billowy, and white, reflecting the sunlight so strongly upon
the white-capped waters below, that the sea seemed much closer to the
voyagers than it really was.

Shortly after eight o'clock they crossed over the long, low-lying island
of Cuba, dipping down close enough to get a fairly good view of the
topography.  Then rising to three thousand feet, they swerved a little to
the eastward and made off across the Caribbean Sea itself.

At a few minutes of eleven they sighted the shore of Jamaica, five miles
or so to the eastward of them.  Then John took the throttle, both engines
were put into the work, and they began to whizz through the air at a clip
which would have made them gasp for breath had they been in an open
cockpit.  As it was, the rush of air as it swept along each side of the
fuselage and off its narrowing tail, became a veritable howl in whose
noise they found conversation very difficult.  Tom Meeks, who was leaning
over John's shoulder and watching the instrument-board, triumphantly
announced presently that they were traveling at the rate of 280 miles an
hour!

For thirty minutes or more John Ross kept the Sky-Bird going at this
terrific speed, then he slowed up, and transferred into mono-engine gear,
as there was no use in unnecessarily heating the power-plants.  As the
indicator of the speedometer retreated to 150 miles, he turned the
throttle over to Bob Giddings, and said: "Hold her at this rate, Bob;
it's plenty fast enough for the present."

It was a little after one o'clock when Paul and Tom announced land to the
westward.  After looking at the object, which surely had the appearance
of land, Mr. Giddings laid down the glasses and consulted the chart.

"That's undoubtedly the outer point of Nicaragua," he said; and upon
taking a look themselves with the binoculars, the others all agreed with
him.

Keeping the low-lying coastline of the continent on their right, and
buffeted considerably by contrary winds which now began to make
themselves manifest, Bob threw the automatic-pilot into gear at a
suggestion from John, as this insured greater safety, and steered with
the rudder only.  At once the riding became easier, for the moment a gust
of wind hit the machine on one side, the elevators and ailerons shifted
and counteracted its uneven effect.

After a while Bob turned slightly to the eastward, and about
mid-afternoon they came in sight of Colon, the Atlantic terminal city of
the great Canal.  Sweeping over its collection of houses, at an elevation
of about fifteen hundred feet, they passed the big white Gatun locks, and
followed the trail of the Panama Railroad across the great neck of rugged
land which joined North and South America--followed, too, the tortuous,
wonderful channel which American enterprise had cut through.

Thus over Gatun Lake they flew, over the Chagres River; along the course
of Culebra Cut, with its high banks, across the Pedro Miguel and
Miraflores locks on the other side of the isthmus; over Ancon; and
finally below them lay clustered the white-robed buildings of Panama
itself, with the swelling blue reaches of the big Pacific to the
southward and westward, and the bold shore-line of South America to the
southeastward.

Looking down as they circled the narrow tongue of land on which the city
proper nestled, our friends soon made out the big Government
landing-field and airdrome, distinguished by its whitewashed cobblestone
markers at either end.  And, now, as the Sky-Bird II swooped downward,
several attendants in white pantaloons could be seen running out of the
building.

When the airplane had settled, these men came up.  Two were short, black
fellows, probably San Blas Indians; but the other two were whites, though
well-burned by the tropical suns.  The taller of the white men introduced
himself as Henry Masters, superintendent of the landing-field, and was
extremely courteous when he learned the identity of the new-arrivals.

"We have been looking for you gentlemen," said he, "and I'm glad to know
you had such a fine run from Miami.  There are a lot of strangers in
town--been arriving for the last three or four days--all to witness the
start of this big race.  Most of them seem to be newspaper men from the
States, though there are a number from South America, and even Africa and
Europe.  Is this the plane that you fellows representing the _Daily
Independent_ are going to fly in?"

"This is the one, Mr. Masters," responded John.

"It is a beauty," said the superintendent with enthusiasm, as he glanced
over the graceful outlines of the Sky-Bird.  "I never saw one built on
these lines until the other day, when what seems to be its twin came in."

"Much like-um lot," remarked one of the natives, and his companion, added
more concisely: "Same like-um lot."

In spite of the fact that our party had been fearing some such
information as this upon reaching Panama, the actual announcement of it
made their hearts jump wildly.

"Where is this machine now?" asked Mr. Giddings as calmly as he could.

"In the hangar," was the reply of Masters.  "It is the one that is going
to fly against you."

"Who is in charge of it?" inquired John Ross.

"Five arrived in it.  Four of them are to be in the contest, they say.
The other gentleman is Mr. Wrenn, of the New York _Clarion_."

A few minutes later, when they pushed the Sky-Bird into one of the big
double hangars, their suspicions were conclusively clinched.  For there
at one side stood the very counterpart of their own airplane, differing
only in the name painted upon its sides and under its big hollow wings.
These letters spelled "_Clarion_"!




CHAPTER XIV

A FAMILIAR FACE

Our friends exchanged glances.  The brow of every one of them
contracted into so plain a frown that Mr. Masters, the superintendent
of the airdrome, could not help noticing it.

"I hope nothing is wrong, gentlemen," he ventured half-interrogatively.

"So do we," responded Mr. Giddings, "but if there is, it is nothing
concerning you, sir, at least.  We thank you for your attention to our
machine, and wish you to take the best care of it while it is here.
Don't let anybody meddle with it, will you?"

"We'll look after it right, you may depend upon that," said the flying
official; and the party turned and left the building.

Outside, where they would be secure from the hearing of others, all
came to a pause, for there was a lot on their minds.

"Well, boys," said the publisher, "you see our suspicions back there in
Miami were certainly well-founded.  It seems that in some manner those
stolen blue-prints have fallen into the hands of our rivals, and they
have been wise enough to profit by the fact."

"Do you think, dad, that Mr. Wrenn could have been back of this theft?"
propounded Bob who, although the publisher was a business rival of his
father's, had always thought him above such operations.

"I really do not know what to think," was Mr. Giddings's answer.  "I
have always entertained the greatest respect for this gentleman's
honesty, if he does differ with me politically.  But I must admit that
since this thing has happened--"

"Sh-h!" warned Bob suddenly.  "Here comes Mr. Wrenn now!"

It was as he said.  Turning his head in the direction of the entrance
to the landing-field, Mr. Giddings instantly recognized, in the short
figure in linen coming toward them, the person of the publisher of the
_Clarion_.

"I shall have this matter out with him right now," was the grim
declaration of the _Daily Independent's_ director.

"Well, well! how are you, Giddings?  How are you, Robert?" cried Mr.
Wrenn, sticking out his pudgy hand when he came up to the little group.
Such was his gusto that he did not seem to notice the lukewarmness of
the father's and son's greeting.  Mr. Giddings introduced John, Paul,
and Tom, and then the publisher of the _Clarion_ continued with
good-humored raillery: "I'm mighty glad to see you fellows here, for I
began to think you would get scared and flunk us at the last moment.
Was over on the hotel veranda when I saw a plane land here, and I
guessed it might be you, and hurried right over.  Put your machine up
yet?"

"We did," said Mr. Giddings rather sourly.  "And do you know, Wrenn,
when we ran the Sky-Bird in the hangar we saw yours in there and
received quite a disagreeable surprise--I may say shock."

Mr. Giddings and the boys watched the broad face of their rival very
narrowly as this statement was put.  Would he act guilty?

There was an explosion of laughter, the heartiest of laughter, from the
_Clarion_ director.  "Oh, say, that's one on you, Giddings!  I knew
you'd be down in the mouth when you saw our machine and realized that
you would have to contend against one as good or better than your
own--one of the same type!"  And he laughed again, until he had to wipe
tears from his little blue eyes.

This was incomprehensible conduct from a guilty conscience!  What could
it mean?  Surely Mr. Wrenn, of the _Clarion_, was either the coldest
and deepest-dyed rogue in the world or a man entirely innocent!

"How did you know that we had an airplane like yours?" asked John
sharply.

The fat man broke into renewed chuckles at this question, and it was a
moment or two before he could find words.  Then he said:

"There's a little story connected with this, and now that we're right
on the eve of the race and there's nothing to be gained by further
secrecy, I'll tell it to you.  You see, about a year and a half ago,
possibly two years, a young man came to me for a job as sporting
reporter; said he had been a flyer in France and that the Government
wanted him as an Air Mail pilot, but he would rather take up the
newspaper game.  I put him to work, and he proved very good in
gathering news of sports, especially aviation stuff.  A week or so
after you challenged me to this race--which I would have liked to back
out of, but couldn't and save my honor--this chap showed me some
blue-prints of a novel kind of airplane which he claimed to have
co-devised with a flyer friend who, he said, was helping to make you a
machine of the same type for this contest.  He--"

"What is this young man's name?" inquired John Ross excitedly.

"Peter Deveaux."

"Peter Deveaux!" exclaimed John and Paul at once.  And John added: "Mr.
Wrenn, that fellow did not refuse to fly in the Air Mail service; he
_did_ fly, and was dishonorably discharged for drunkenness.
Furthermore, he stole those plans from our hangar!"

The publisher of the _Clarion_ opened his eyes wide.  "Can you prove
those assertions?" he inquired.  "That last one is a serious charge,
sir."

"Nevertheless we can prove it when we get back to New York," declared
John warmly.

"Well," said Mr. Wrenn, "I'll finish my story, and then we can talk
over this new development more understandingly.  As I said, Deveaux
claimed to have a half-right in the plans, and having no reason to
doubt it, I told him to proceed, when he proposed to make an airplane
for us from the designs and to head a crew for the _Clarion_ in this
race around the world.  Now you will understand my position in the
matter."

"Wrenn," spoke up Mr. Giddings with quick frankness, "I beg your
pardon.  The young men here and myself fancied you must have had a
guilty part in the production of this fac-simile of our airplane.  We
now see who is really to blame."

"I do not blame you for your suspicions," was the candid reply of the
fat man, "if things are as you state; and I will do you the honor,
Giddings, to say that, although we are business rivals, your word is as
good as gold with me.  This is a lamentable situation.  What shall we
do about it?"

Mr. Giddings studied deeply before making answer.  Then he observed:
"Wrenn, this contest, as you know, has been too widely advertised to
wreck it just as it is about to begin by the arrest of this man, Peter
Deveaux.  Say nothing to him about it; in fact, we will none of us
mention a word of this to anybody; but when the race is over you can
quietly dismiss him from your service, if you wish.  As I now look at
it, no great harm has been done, if any, by his duplicity; with two
planes practically alike, the race will really be a fairer one, and a
more exciting one for the public who read our newspapers, and supremacy
will probably go to the better crew."

"I don't know about my crew, as Deveaux picked them up; but they did
good work when they brought me down here the other day in the plane,"
said Mr. Wrenn.  "Giddings, I think your plan is all right, and we'll
let the race go on as if nothing had happened; but you bet your last
dollar I'll fire Pete when it's all over, if he has done what you say!"

With that the publisher of the _Clarion_ accompanied our friends back
to the hangar, where he had a good look at the Sky-Bird II, and showed
his own airplane, which was in all essentials an exact copy of the
other.  Following this they left the airdrome and went to their hotels.

All had a good night's rest--probably the last one they would have on
earth for more than a week,--and after a hearty breakfast they
proceeded to get what supplies they would need to last them until they
should reach Georgetown, British Guiana, on the north coast of South
America.  This would be their first stop.  Somehow the townspeople
quickly guessed their identity, and they were followed from store to
store as they shopped by a curious and motley throng of dark-skinned
natives, among whom were noticed quite a few white children, presumably
belonging to American employees of the Government.

With such eatables as they had bought stored in a basket, and carrying
a few other packages, the boys went out to the airdrome.  A guard stood
at the door to keep out those having no business in the hangar, and as
the young flyers passed in they noticed that Mr. Wrenn and a group of
four fellows in flying-suits were going over the rival airplane.

"Here, boys, come over here a minute!" called the fat man.  As they
approached, the aviators with him turned from their work.  One, a
slender fellow with swarthy skin and a scrubby black mustache, scowled
when he looked at John Ross, and as Bob Giddings and Tom Meeks got
their eyes on him, they gave an involuntary start, for they recognized
in the man the fellow they had seen hanging around the fair-grounds in
Yonkers when their machine was in process of construction.

"It's time you fellows got acquainted with each other," said Mr. Wrenn,
and he forthwith proceeded to introduce his crew as Pete Deveaux, Chuck
Crossman, Oliver Torrey, and Sam Lane.

"How are you, Ross?" greeted Pete Deveaux.  He uttered a sour sort of
laugh, as his companions offered their hands around the group.  "I
won't do any shaking," said he, "as my hands are kind of greasy."

"Don't worry, Deveaux," advised John quickly.  "We won't feel bad over
a little thing like that."

"That your plane over there?" asked the swarthy fellow.

"That's it; quite a strong resemblance to yours here," said John with
cutting sarcasm.

"That's so," was Deveaux's comment, casting a quick look toward Mr.
Wrenn.  Apparently he was as anxious to drop the subject as a chicken
would a red-hot kernel of corn, for he immediately observed, with an
ill-concealed sneer: "I suppose you guys think you're going to leave us
a good ways behind in this race?"

"We're not telling what we think," put in Paul; "but one thing is sure:
we're going to keep you hustling some."

"Oh, that's too bad, now, ain't it?" drawled Oliver Torrey, as he
leered out of one eye.

"Say, kid, we'll beat youse so bad you'll be squallin' before you're
half-way round the globe," put in Sam Lane.

"You bet!  Ain't no use o' flying against such veterans as us,"
supplemented Chuck Crossman, with a wag of his frowsy head.

Mr. Wrenn frowned.  While these might be his own men, it was hard to
countenance such bragging.




CHAPTER XV

THE START

By eleven o'clock the tanks of the Sky-Bird II had been filled with
gasoline and oil, and the radiator of each engine supplied with twelve
gallons of water.  In addition to this, its crew had carefully gone
over every brace, control, bolt, and nut to make sure that everything
was tight, the engines had been run detached from the propeller for a
few minutes to warm them up, and every bearing not reached by the
lubricating system was well oiled by hand.

Mr. Giddings had appeared about an hour earlier, bringing with him the
two special correspondents of the _Daily Independent_, as well as
several other newspaper men representing various prominent foreign
publications.  As soon as our boys had finished shaking hands with
these, they were introduced to a number of well-known Government
officials and aviation representatives, who added their good wishes for
the success of the big undertaking.  Then came Mr. Wrenn with a party
of his own distinguished friends, which called for more hand-shaking.

At twelve-fifteen the rival machines were pushed out of the hangar and
took up positions in the field, ready for the signal to "hop."  At
twelve-fifty both crews, with the exception of their respective
crankers-up, entered their machines, and a heavy hush fell over the
great crowd which had assembled to see the start of the first race
around the world's circumference.  It was without denial an auspicious
moment, and as they stood there and looked at the two big mechanical
birds which were to attempt this prodigious feat, embracing almost
25,000 miles, threading every mile of the distance through the air in
the astounding time of ten days, the situation was so fraught with awe,
particularly to the native Panamanians, that now at the last moment all
were practically voiceless.

The rival publishers gave their parting instructions as their crews
climbed into the cabins, and these were to the same effect: "Don't
forget, boys, to report to us at every stop, and mail us all the
pictures you can.  Between stops use your wireless for reports whenever
possible.  Good-bye, and the best of luck!"

Lieutenant-Colonel Warren J. Hess, a gentleman prominent in American
aviation circles, had been selected as judge of the contest.  He was
not only to give the signal to start off the flyers, but with Mr.
Giddings, was to await in Panama their return, and demand from each
crew upon arrival a document containing the signature of the port
official at each scheduled landing.

Colonel Hess, looking at his watch, now raised his hand, and
instinctively those in the front of each of the long lines of
spectators flanking the run-way crowded back so that the airplanes
would not strike them as they dashed down the field for the take-off.
Tom Meeks and Chuck Crossman spun the propellers, sprang back to escape
their vicious whirr as the respective engines fired, and quickly
clambered into their machines.

It was exactly one o'clock.  Both airplanes taxied down the runway side
by side.  They also arose together, amid a great cheering, some ninety
feet apart, shooting grandly up into the air above the heads of the
people in the lower end of the field.  At a height of a thousand feet,
the gray _Clarion_ bent eastward.  At fifteen hundred feet, the
Sky-Bird did likewise.  From the open windows of each of the cabins
fluttered white handkerchiefs in a final farewell, and many a
broad-brimmed hat in the hands of the excited populace below was waved
in answer.

Flying low, the _Clarion_ started away in the lead, while her rival had
been mounting to her own preferred higher level.  By the time the
Sky-Bird had straightened out, her contemporary was well in advance.

"We're losing ground," said Bob Giddings anxiously.

"Don't worry about that," said Paul Ross, who was at the throttle; "we
can catch them when we're ready.  We'll get a better current of air up
here."

Paul's maneuver had been due to the fact that heavy head-winds were
blowing, and he was quite sure if he went higher he would get above the
worst of these.

As they now shot along on an even keel, it seemed hard to realize that
they had at last started out on the important flight for which they had
been planning and working so long; and as Paul watched his instruments
and the scudding rival machine ahead, he could not help wondering what
the issue of it all might be--if the fates would be so kind as to smile
enough on the Sky-Bird to bring her in ahead of the _Clarion_ and
within schedule time.  Many weary miles must be covered before they
would see Panama again.  And when they would land in that air-drome
again--if in truth they ever did!--would it be as victors, or as
listeners to the jeers of the rough crew of the other plane?

It was not an ideal day for the start from a weather standpoint.  In
fact, a consultation of the weather reports at the Panama Bureau before
they left had shown a prophecy of strong northeasterly winds and
possible showers.  The sun was almost shut out by patches of cloud,
glinting through only occasionally; but neither crew had felt like
postponing the start, so eager were they to be off and so confident
were they in the capabilities of their respective machines to meet
almost any sort of bad weather.

Straight along the Isthmus both machines proceeded, making a bee-line
for Georgetown, which it was hoped to reach at daylight.  The coastline
was low along here and very uneven, with numerous pretty little islands
on the Pacific side, the waters surrounding them sparkling like jewels
when the sun's rays would struggle through the clouds and strike the
tossing waves.

In the northern part of the Republic of Colombia they passed just to
the right of the western terminal range of the great Andes Mountains,
and within an hour's time were sailing through Quindiu Pass of the
central arm of the same mountains.  At this time they were over twelve
thousand feet above sea-level.  Then came the table-lands of western
Venezuela, open in places and covered with thick growths of tropical
forests in others.

As they approached the foothills of the eastern chain or arm of the
mountains, Paul took the throttle, and they steadily arose in order to
clear the high pinnacles facing them, and finally, at a height of
fifteen thousand feet--the greatest height they had yet attained--they
went over them.  The airplane encountered several "air pockets" in this
process, which might have been disastrous to them except for the
stabilizing effect of the automatic-pilot.  As it was, the machine
pitched rather roughly in surviving them.

In sweeping past the last crag they had come very near to striking,
owing to a cloud which enwrapped it.  Just in time Paul's sharp eyes
had seen the white bank of snow on the crag ahead, and he elevated his
craft enough to pass over.  It was so cold up here, even in the cabin,
that the boys had to don their heavy coats.

Just as they turned the nose of their machine toward a lower level,
running at reduced speed, a huge bird with curving beak, which John
said was a condor, dashed from the crags after the airplane.  It was
followed a moment later by five or six others.  The great birds seemed
to resent the appearance of so strange a giant in the mountain
fastnesses where they had always held the supremacy of the air, all the
time darting angrily at it, flapping their long, black and white wings,
some of which had the immense span of fourteen feet, and croaking
hoarsely.

The boys laughed at first, but when the creatures commenced to come
closer, frequently hitting the windows with their sharp beaks, and
cracking two of them, they began to get really alarmed.  Once the
propeller struck the tail of one bold and incautious condor, and
feathers flew in all directions; but after a quick circle he was back
again, madder than ever.

"Say, fellows," cried Paul; "we've got to do something with these birds
right away!  First thing we know, one of them will get hit a squarer
blow with the propeller and smash it.  Then we'll crash as sure as I'm
sitting here."

This peril was very imminent, as all could see.

John seized the shot-gun from its rack, and Tom one of the rifles.
These were loaded.  Stationing themselves on either side of the cabin,
the young men drew down the windows in front of them, poked out their
weapons and watched for a chance to use them.

Tom's gun was the first to blaze away, but it is difficult to hit a
bird on the wing with a rifle, and he missed.  A moment later, as a
condor dashed viciously toward his window, John fired, and the great
bird, mortally stricken, tumbled into the mists below.

Tom was more fortunate the next time.  A condor, with a fluttering of
his immense wings, had settled right on the tail of the machine, where
he clung with his sturdy talons, threatening to prevent Paul from
manipulating the rudder.  When Bob called Tom's attention to this
alarming situation, the latter joined him at the rear window of the
cabin.  Tom took careful aim, pulled the trigger, and the condor fell
with a broken wing, uttering hoarse cries until the clouds below
swallowed him up.

Two more of the fierce creatures were killed before the remaining birds
were frightened off.  It was with a sigh of relief that Paul now
resumed his descent to lower levels.

When presently they emerged out of the last cloud, and could see the
green earth below them once more, they were across the last chain of
mountain they would encounter in South America.  They gazed with their
glasses on all sides, and checked up their position on the chart,
although in doing this they had great difficulty on account of a
curtain of thin fog which hung over the land, and only a very low
altitude of about five hundred feet would allow of it at all.

As soon as they were sure of their bearings they again took a searching
observation in quest of the rival airplane, but no sign of it could
they see.

"They're probably quite a bit ahead of us by this time," observed John;
"but now that we're through the last chain of the Andes we can make
better speed.  Shoot her up to two thousand feet, Buddy.  We'll set our
course for Georgetown by compass."

Paul bore upward, and at the level mentioned he straightened the
machine with her nose once more pointed eastward, and the compass hand
pointing along the left wing of the machine.

It was now growing dark.  Not knowing whether this was caused by the
closing in of the clouds or the natural declension of the sun, Bob
looked at his watch.  To his surprise he found it was seven o'clock
Panama time, which would make it probably close to nine in their
present locality.  Night should now be upon them.

As it had been decided to let John and Tom operate the night shift, at
least for the first few days, John now took his trick at the throttle,
changed to the fresh engine, and Bob and Paul turned into their
hammocks for the first sleep aboard the airplane.  They were both
pretty tired, as each had spent several hours at the helm that
afternoon, and it was only a few minutes before the gentle rocking of
the plane on the billows of air had sent them into a sound oblivion.
Just before retiring, Bob had wirelessed Panama of their safe passage
through the mountains and fight with the condors, stating that several
snapshots of the birds had been secured and that these would be mailed
to the _Daily Independent_ upon reaching Georgetown.

Not long after the change of pilots a fine rain began to fall, covering
the windows of the cabin with a film of moisture; but as it was now too
dark to see anyhow, John did not care whether he could look outside or
not.  However, for the good of the machine, as well as the betterment
of their speed, he decided to get out of the storm.  So, switching on
the little dashboard electric lights to illuminate his instruments, he
turned the Sky-Bird upward again.  Through the very clouds which were
expelling the rain, gathered from the warm Atlantic trade-winds, he
guided the machine.  At nine thousand feet he was above them, in clear
dry air, with a blue, star-studded sky above his head and in the mellow
glow of a full moon.

"Well, John, this is more like night-flying," remarked Tom Meeks, who
sat just behind the pilot, ready to assist him at a moment's notice if
the need should appear.

"As long as I know there are no mountains ahead to smash into I'm not
worrying a bit," replied John, "and I guess we're all right on that
score.  I'm going to let the old girl out now, Tom."

"Might as well," was the response.

Thereupon John threw on the gas by degrees until the indicator showed
them to be whizzing along at 150 miles.  He easily could have gone
fifty more on the one engine had he chosen, but was afraid such a speed
would carry them beyond their destination and out into the Atlantic
before daylight could show them their position.  Had they not
previously been running somewhat behind scheduled time, he would not
have accelerated even now.

Shortly after midnight Tom relieved him at the throttle, and running
slightly slower, to make sure they would not pass over Georgetown in
the darkness, Tom began to hum softly to himself as he kept a sharp
lookout upon his instruments.  John settled back in the seat behind, as
alert for any sudden peril as his mate had been before.

But no mishap marred the night's run, which was as smooth up there
above the clouds as any veteran flyer could have wished.  And when at
last the bright sun of another day chased the moon and its haze into
obscurity, it lighted up the flying craft some time before its orb had
peeped high enough over the Atlantic's horizon to shed its rays upon
the affairs of earth itself.

Gradually, as the sun arose in the heavens, Tom brought the Sky-Bird
lower, until presently he and John could see the ground, bathed in
glistening color from its recent wetting, far below them.

At this time Paul and Bob awoke, and washing their hands and faces,
came to the windows to look out.  The first thing they all did was to
sweep the sky-line for some vision of the rival airplane, but without
success.  Then they put their attention on the country below and around.

Just beneath was a pretty little blue lake, walled in with great forest
trees some of which must have been over a hundred feet high.  A short
way beyond was an immense field covered with what they were sure must
be sugar-cane, and in which they could see dark-skinned men at work
with queer carts and clumsy oxen.  At the right, a mere thread of
silver, was a river, hedged with tropical vegetation.  This swept
around toward their front, enlarging as it came, and at what seemed no
farther than five miles away, poured its waters out into a great sea of
apparently limitless expanse.

The boys concluded at once that this great body of water must be the
Atlantic Ocean, and when they saw a fair-sized town nestling among the
trees at the point where the river joined the sea, their chart told
them that the stream was the Essequibo River, and the collection of
low-roofed buildings was none less than Georgetown!

A few minutes later, they were circling the town to locate their
landing-field which was to be marked with a large white letter T.
Seeing it on the second turn, they swept down amongst a curious and
half-frightened throng, and taxied to a stop.

To their relief and gratification, they found that their rivals had not
yet appeared.




CHAPTER XVI

TRICKED BY RIVALS

Correcting their watches with Georgetown time, as given to them by Mr.
Whiteshore, the Englishman in charge of the field, the boys found to
their joy that they had arrived five minutes ahead of schedule.  This
would give them, if they wished to take it, a trifle more than three
hours to spend in Georgetown.

But first must come business; they must go over the machine very
carefully and see if the long, hard run from Panama had done any
damage; and they must replenish their fuel, oil, and water supply.
They were happy to find both engines in fine shape, thanks to the
possibility of alternating them in transit, and beyond a number of
scratches and the cracked glass made by the condors in their attack in
crossing the Andes the airplane was in perfect shape.  Paul climbed up
and examined the helium-gas valves, of which there were three in each
wing, one for each of three compartments, and announced that the
pressure showed only an insignificant decrease.  At the rate of
escapage indicated, they would have plenty to last them for the whole
trip.  This was reassuring knowledge, for no envelope can be made so
impervious that light gases will not escape at all.  The body
compartment also showed good pressure.

It took them an hour and fifteen minutes to replenish the fuel tanks
and water radiator and put everything in shape.  Just as they were
finishing up, a cry from the curious crowd around them called their
attention to the western sky, and they saw an airplane approaching.
This developed rapidly into the unmistakable outlines of the _Clarion_,
and in a few minutes the rival crew landed in the field.

Pete Deveaux sauntered over to the crew of the Sky-Bird II.

"Well, fellows," he said, with the sneer which seemed to be on his
leathery countenance most of the time, "I notice you got in a little
ahead of us.  Congratulations!  I suppose you're tickled to death."

"We're not quite that far gone; just a little bit alive," grinned Tom
Meeks.  "What made your crew so slow, Deveaux?  Did you get wet in that
rain last night and have to stop off and dry out your clothes?"

"Aw, cut it out; talk sense!" snarled the French flyer.  He turned on
his heel, fearing more of Tom's sharp thrusts if he lingered longer,
and shot back: "You guys will have another laugh coming one of these
days, mark my words!"  With that he rejoined his companions.

Not at all worried at such a prophecy, our friends secured a native boy
to guide them into the town, a quarter of a mile distant, leaving their
airplane under guard of two Chinese out in the open, the field boasting
no such thing as a hangar.  At the little telegraph office of the town,
John dispatched their report to the _Daily Independent_, also mailed at
the local postoffice the promised films of the encounter with the
condors.

They then purchased some breakfast and began to look about them.  While
it was still early, the narrow streets were quite well crowded with
people, so much so that it looked to the visitors as if the inhabitants
never slept.  What they saw almost made them rub their eyes to make
sure they were not in Asia instead of South America.  There were dozens
of almond-eyed Chinese within sight, dozens of black Hindoos in turbans
and flowing garments, dozens of Parsees wearing long black coats and
hats like inverted coal-scuttles; to say nothing of numerous Portuguese
and English, the latter mostly merchants and plantation owners.

The roofs of the buildings were slanting, with wooden or galvanized
iron walls.  Some of the more important of them, such as stores,
warehouses, government buildings, etc., were quite large, and stood
upon piles to keep them out of the way of floods which often sweep the
lowlands in the rainy season.  In many of the streets ran canals, which
their small guide told them, in pidgeon-English, were drains for the
floods.  And he also said that the long embankments which the boys saw
stretching along the sea front were dykes built at great expense by the
sugar planters to keep these same floods from washing the rich soil of
their fields out into the ocean.

After purchasing some fresh fruit and groceries for their aerial
larder, the little party betook themselves back to the landing-field,
on the way passing numbers of pretty little house

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