Buch lesen: «The Banner Boy Scouts in the Air»

CHAPTER I

At the Airport

Paul and Jack were dashing along on their bicycles through Main Street. It was a clear, beautiful summer day. School was over and they grasped the first opportunity to run over to the airport about a mile outside of Stanhope and which had only recently been completed.

The two boys wore their Scout uniforms and they pedalled along swiftly. Several townspeople paused to watch them pass by and wondered what might be the cause of their haste. Paul stuck his left hand out and they turned right into Oliver Street, thus taking a short cut to the highway and then to the aerodrome. When they arrived at their objective, they dismounted and stood around, taking everything in with their eyes.

The flying field was about a mile long and half a mile wide and entirely cleared of trees, bushes or anything that might be an obstruction. To one side were a group of sheds and a building, evidently the office. At about the middle of the field there was a solitary monoplane.

Jack gasped. Finally he remarked, “Gee, isn’t this grand?”

Paul nodded. He was as much overcome with the wonder of it as his chum. “Boy!” he exclaimed, “it sure is.”

Jack said, “Let’s walk over to the buildings.”

His chum nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

Pushing their bicycles along side of them, they walked across the field. They could barely contain themselves with wonder, joy and astonishment, which was the cause of their lack of speech. For the past weeks they had been so excited by the news of the flying field being completed that they found it difficult to control themselves enough to go on with their school work. And it wasn’t only Jack and Paul, but all their chums had suddenly become interested in aeronautics. They began to boast of their ambition to become pilots, fly all over the world and enjoy all sorts of adventurous experiences. At times, instead of studying their biology lessons or French, they would be reading thrilling air stories or books on flying.

As the two boys approached the office building, a man emerged and waved to them. They waved back. Paul whispered, “I’ll bet it’s Major McCarthy, the manager.”

Paul was right. The Major was a tall, stocky man of about forty and almost bald. He smiled to them and said, “Hello fellows. I’m Major McCarthy. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Jack said, “We came over to look around, if you have no objections, Major.”

The Major smiled warmly. “Oh, none whatsoever. You’re welcome.”

Paul said, “My name is Paul—Paul Morrison.”

“And your dad is Dr. Morrison?”

“That’s right. How did you know?”

“Well, there’s only one Dr. Morrison in Stanhope. Glad to meet you, Paul.”

The two shook hands. Jack said, “I’m Jack Stormways.”

“Glad to know you,” the major said and they shook hands.

For a few seconds there ensued an embarrassed silence. Neither Jack nor Paul could think of anything to say and Major McCarthy was waiting for them to ask questions. Finally the major said, “Suppose you boys lean your bicycles against the wall and I’ll show you around. There isn’t much doing now and I have some time on my hands.”

Paul cried, “I think that’s swell of you.”

And Jack added, “Thanks a lot.”

The boys quickly leaned their wheels against the wall and then joined the major, one on either side of him. The major said, “I might as well begin by telling you something about the field. You’ll notice that the field is cleared of all obstructions. That’s absolutely necessary to make sure there is nothing to cause an accident in taking off or landing. The field is about a mile long. That’s to provide plenty of room for taking off or landing.”

Jack interrupted. “How much of a run does it take to land or take off?”

Paul nodded, implying that he too was interested in the question. Major McCarthy answered, “It all depends. A light ship can take off in about a hundred yards or less. A big ship heavily loaded may take a quarter or half a mile or even more to take off. In landing, the ground speed depends a lot upon the velocity of the wind. The stronger the wind, the less space required in which to land.”

They were walking towards the sheds. Pointing, Paul asked, “What’s that?”

The major looked in the direction the boy was pointing. “That’s a wind indicator,” he said. “That shows which way the wind is blowing.”

“And what’s the purpose of that?” Paul asked.

“To tell which way to land. You always land directly into the wind.”

They were heading toward the monoplane. The boys were thrilled. They had seen planes in the movies and in the daily newspapers, but they had never seen a real plane. As soon as they neared the ship, the first reaction of the boys was to pat it, caress it as if it were a live thing. The major smiled casually and understood how they felt. He said, “Suppose the two of you get into the observer’s seat while I get into the pilot’s place and I’ll explain a few things to you about a plane.”

The boys gasped for breath, they were so shocked by the invitation. “Do you think it’s all right?” Paul asked bewildered.

“Of course,” the major answered, “otherwise I wouldn’t ask you.”

Quickly, lest he reconsider his invitation, the boys scrambled into the observer’s seat. Major McCarthy climbed into the pilot’s seat. They leaned over the major’s shoulders and stared at a bewildering and numerous collection of gadgets on the dashboard. The major said, “First I had better explain to you the meaning of these gadgets.” Pointing to a dial, he explained, “This is the revolution counter. The engine in this plane is designed to give about two thousand revolutions per minute. For all practical purposes, about 1700 or 1800 revolutions are sufficient. Here, on the right, is the throttle lever. And here are the gasoline and oil gauges. This is the ‘doper’ which pumps a spray of gasoline into the engine to help in starting it up. These are the gasoline taps connecting the two tanks and each of the tanks with the feed pipes leading to the carburetors. And this is the ignition control. You keep it advanced when running but retarded when starting up. This is the water temperature indicator. You always keep the water pretty hot.” He paused, then he asked, “Do you have any questions?”

The boys shook their heads, bewildered by it all. “If there are no questions,” Major McCarthy said, “then I’ll continue.”

“This is the control lever, or the ‘joystick’ as it is commonly called.” And he grasped the handle of a short straight stick that protruded upwards between his legs from the floor of the cockpit. “The stick is attached to a universal joint, and it controls both the longitudinal movements as well as the lateral movements by means of wires attached to the elevator and the ailerons. If you want to go up, all you do is pull the stick back; if you want to go down, you push the stick forward. Now notice where my feet are—on the rudder bar. If I want to turn to the left, I push my left foot forward; if I want to turn to the right, I push the right foot forward. Simple, isn’t it?” And he looked up to see the astonishment on the boys’ faces. He continued with his interesting lecture. “Now when I want to turn, I must push the joystick over simultaneously and in the same direction as the rudder. This is called ‘banking’ on one side. The object of banking on a turn is to offer the under-surface of the wings as a plane of resistance to the air. Not banking the plane over retards the forward speed. If you don’t bank enough you may get into a ‘flat turn’. Now a ‘flat turn’ is bad because you may thus stall the motor and take a nose dive and unless you keep your head clear and straighten out again, you’ll most likely crash. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”

Both boys nodded; actually it was all a puzzle to them. Paul remarked, “Gosh, Major, it must be wonderful to be a pilot.”

“It isn’t such a bad job.”

“Do you think we could learn to fly?” inquired Jack.

“Of course. Anybody could.”

“Could you teach us?” Jack was anxious.

“Certainly. But I imagine you’d first have to get permission from your parents. I don’t suppose either one of you is eighteen or over.”

The boys shook their heads dejectedly. “I’m only seventeen and a half,” Jack said.

“I’m going to be eighteen the fifteenth of next month”—that from Paul.

Major McCarthy looked up. Somebody over at the hangar was calling to him and motioning for him to come over. “Well, I have to go now. Let’s get out of the plane.” Walking back toward the hangers, the major said, “Come around again one of these days and if I have time I’ll take you up.”

“Gee, wouldn’t that be swell,” Paul cried. “You really mean it?”

“Of course.”

Jack was eager. “How about tomorrow?” he asked.

Major McCarthy nodded. “Okey” he said, “but I must ask you boys to obtain permission of your parents. Otherwise I won’t do it.”

“That’s a bargain,” said Paul. “If my dad or mother object I’ll tell you the truth.”

“Same here,” chimed in his chum.

“All right then, I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

Waving their hands to the Major, they took their bicycles and walked off the field.

CHAPTER II

The Meeting

Peddling back to town, their minds were in the clouds. Each one was thinking how wonderful it would be to learn to fly, to be a pilot and fly all over the country, perhaps all over the world. And when they thought of the adventure that was in store for them, their hearts swelled with joy and their pulses missed a couple of beats. Paul, who was riding behind, pulled up alongside of his chum, and asked, “Do you think we ought to tell the boys about it?”

“You mean about our coming over here?” Jack queried.

“Yes.”

“Why not? They would certainly be very much interested and there’s no reason why we can’t tell them.”

Paul mused for a moment. Then he said, “But if we tell them that the Major promised to take us up tomorrow, then the whole gang will come out here and want to be taken up. Then perhaps he won’t take any one of us up.”

“I never thought of that,” Jack said. “But then I suppose—” He didn’t finish his sentence because he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to hold anything back from the boys, yet he thought it was rather selfish on his part not to let them in on it. The same thoughts were going through Paul’s head. They were both fine chaps and ready to share with their friends not only their thoughts, adventures but even their most personal things. But the idea of going up in the air, of actually flying in a real airplane, stunned them. And they naturally hated to be deprived of their forthcoming joyous adventure. Finally, Jack said, “I don’t know, but I think we ought to tell them.”

Paul’s face lit up. “That’s just what I was thinking,” he told his chum.

That off their chests, they wheeled into town briskly. On Main Street, they caught sight of Arline Blair. They jumped off their bikes as they pulled up alongside of her. “Hello, Arline,” both boys cried out.

She was about a year younger than the boys and one of the prettiest girls in town. “Hello,” she said. “Where are you boys coming from? You’re so flushed and look so happy, I wonder what you fellows were up to.”

“We were over to the airport,” Paul told her.

“Really?” She opened her eyes wide with astonishment.

Jack blurted out, “Sure. And we’re going to learn how to fly and be pilots.”

“Both of us,” added Paul.

Arline pursed her lips. “Isn’t it glorious just to think of it!” she remarked.

The boys stuck their chests out. “It certainly is,” both agreed.

Paul asked, “Which way are you going, Arline?”

“Home.”

“Take you there on my handle bars.”

Jack interrupted, “Perhaps Miss Blair would prefer to ride on my handle bars.”

Arline shook her head. “No. It isn’t very nice for a young lady to ride on handle bars,” she remarked coolly.

“But you used to do it and like it too,” insisted Paul.

“Yes, that’s right,” echoed Jack, “you used to ask me to give you rides.”

Miss Blair raised her chin several inches. “My childhood days are over, gentlemen. Good day Mr. Morrison, and you, Mr. Stormways.” And with that continued her walk down the street, every inch of her a queen.

Jack and Paul looked at each other puzzled, speechless. Paul shrugged his shoulders and put his hand out. Seriously and affectionately they shook hands, jumped on their bikes and were off again.

When the two boys arrived at the meeting place, they found their chums, members of their Patrol, waiting for them. All were dressed in Scout uniforms. The Carberry twins—Wallace and William—were there; so were Bluff Shipley, Bobolink (Robert Oliver Link), Nuthin’ (Albert Cypher), and Ken Armstrong. Just as soon as Paul and Jack came in sight, the boys set up a howl. “Hey, where have you guys been?”

“We’ve been waiting an hour for you fellows.”

“What’s the idea of keeping us waiting like this?”

“You fellows must be up to some mischief.”

Paul and Jack looked at each other and smiled. Paul held up his hand and the boys quieted down considerably. “Would you care to know where we’ve been?”

“Of course.”

“Certainly.”

“Come on, Paul, tell us.”

“Hey, Jack, don’t hold back on us.”

Jack, to tantalize his friends, turned to Paul and asked, “Do you think we ought to tell them?”

“Hey, how do you get that way?”

Wallace began jumping up and down. “You better tell us,” he cried, “or we’ll roast you.”

“Roast them, that’s it,” echoed Bobolink.

Paul held up his hand and the boys quieted down. “We’ve been over to the airport,” he announced.

Bedlam broke loose, the boys were so thrilled and excited. So many questions were hurled at the two boys that they stuck their fingers into their ears and turned away. When the boys finally quieted down again, Paul said, “If you promise to keep order, we’ll tell you about it.”

Bluff stuttered, “Sure, we p-p-promise. Don’t we, b-boys?”

They all nodded and agreed. Between Paul and Jack it was decided that Paul should be the one to narrate the events of their adventurous afternoon. As he told the story, the boys gasped with amazement. And when he told them about the major’s promise to take them up into the air on the morrow, the boys were dumbfounded. Finally, the first one to regain his speech, William, exclaimed, “Gee, what luck!”

Bluff muttered mournfully, “Luck! There is no word for it. These two have all the luck in the world.”

Wallace, the sober and serious one of the twins arose. “Scouts,” he began in a dignified tone, “in view of the fact that we are all interested in aeronautics, I propose—” he hesitated and looked around to see all eyes on him. “I propose,” he continued, “that we consider ways and means to learn everything there is about flying and about airplanes.”

Nuthin’ cried, “That’s a mighty fine suggestion, but how are we going to do it?”

Paul suggested, “We might talk it over with Major McCarthy, he’s the manager of the airport and he ought to know.”

Bobolink cried, “Sure he knows and he’ll tell us too. I want to be a pilot.”

“S-s-same here,” stuttered Bluff.

“In that case,” spoke up Jack, “I guess we better postpone any further discussion until Paul and I will see Major McCarthy tomorrow. We’ll speak to him and then report back.”

“That’s swell.”

“Okey.”

“That’s the right idea.”

Paul asked, “Is everybody agreed?” All the boys nodded. “Then the meeting is adjourned until tomorrow,” he concluded.

CHAPTER III

Bobolink is a Hero

Jack and Paul mounted their bicycles and peddled along very leisurely. The other six, in formation, marched on the side walk. Suddenly a shriek pierced the air. Bobolink was the first to notice. Dropping out of line, he began to run at full speed. The others, although they were not sure what it was all about, nevertheless also joined in the run. A blue sedan was speeding down the street and bearing down on a little boy of about three who, unconcerned of traffic or any danger, was crossing the street. Half way across he paused and stared for several seconds at the cobblestones, then he continued walking to the other side, thus getting into the path of the oncoming, speeding automobile. Several women screamed. The mother, about ten yards away, fainted.

Bobolink ran until his breath was gone. It was the fastest hundred yard run a human could do. The speeding car was barely a yard away when Bobolink reached the spot. With his outstretched arms he gave the child a shove that sent him sprawling. The next moment he saw a galaxy of stars, a piercing pain made him cry out and then darkness, unconsciousness. The automobile had side-swiped him and scraped his right side.

A great number of people immediately collected and surrounded the two victims. The child, except for being shocked and very slightly bruised, was unhurt. Bobolink, however, lay stretched out, appearing more dead than alive.

Paul and Jack, on their bicycles, saw the incident. Immediately they wheeled around and peddled vigorously after the speeding car. Ordinarily, the chase would have been a futile and useless gesture. But the boys knew that about 500 yards away was a very sharp left turn, and at the speed the driver was going, he was sure either to crash or turn over. And sure enough, the driver, ignorant of the sharp turn ahead, did not slow up until it was too late. Frantically he swung the wheel, so he would not crash into the wall that loomed up in front of him. The side of the car bounced against the concrete wall and turned over into the ditch. Just as the boys came up and jumped off their wheels, the driver had extricated himself. He was a tall, husky, evil looking young man. Dazed, he stood wavering on his legs and shaking himself trying to shake off his dizziness. Without hesitation, the boys jumped on him. He offered no resistance. He lay stunned. Paul said, “Guess he’s out all right.”

They looked down at the unconscious form sprawling on the ground. The man’s face was a mass of blood and his hand was twisted as though broken at the wrist. Paul said, “I’ll stay here and watch him. You ride back and get the police and have an ambulance come.”

Jack nodded. “But suppose he comes to, do you think you could hold him?”

Paul looked down at the victim. “Even if he comes to,” he said, “he’d be too weak to run or put up any fight.”

“All right, then,” Jack said, “I’m going.”

But just as he was about to mount his bike, he saw an ambulance come speeding toward them. Evidently someone in the house a short distance away had seen the accident and immediately reported it by telephone.

The ambulance stopped. An interne jumped out and with him a policeman. The doctor examined the man, then had him put on a stretcher and into the ambulance. The policeman examined the wrecked car, took the license number, removed a valise, and then questioned Paul and Jack who told him all they knew. They asked him about Bobolink but he knew nothing of what happened to the boy.

The ambulance turned around and went back to town. With heavy hearts and wondering whether their friend was alive or dead, the two boys mounted their bikes and wheeled back to town. Jack sidled up to his chum. “What are we going to do now, Paul?” he asked.

“I guess we better try to find out how Bobolink is,” he answered.

“He was a swell guy,” muttered Jack.

“He certainly was,” echoed Paul.

“Do you think he was killed or just hurt?”

Paul shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know,” he answered. “We better wait and see.”

They peddled along slowly and mournfully. At last they came to Bobolink’s home and found all the other boys idling dolefully on the porch.

Paul approached the twins and asked, “How is he?”

Wallace shook his head and turned away. William whispered hoarsely, “Don’t know yet.”

About ten minutes later Dr. Morrison emerged from the house. Noticing the boys congregated on the porch, with their faces drawn and appearing quite sombre, he looked puzzled, then suddenly smiled. They rushed up and surrounded him. Paul asked, “How is he, Dad?”

“He’s fine,” Dr. Morrison replied. “Nothing to worry about. He’ll be back with you and running around as though nothing had happened, in three days.”

Bluff for once didn’t stutter and cried, “Hooray! Hooray for Bobolink!”

The other boys joined and they cheered the hero. When they quieted down, Paul asked his father, “May we go in to see him?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, of course. That is, if it’s all right with Mrs. Link.”

So Jack was delegated to go in and ask Mrs. Link for permission to see Bobolink, which was granted. So they entered in a body to cheer up the invalid and hero.