Around the World in Ten Days
Page 3
CHAPTER II
THE BROTHERS' INVENTION
When Paul Ross reached home that afternoon, it was to find someonethere whom he had not expected to see. A tall, broad-shouldered youngman, with a bronzed face and pleasant blue eyes, sat in theliving-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 youngman, who was wont to call his younger brother by this affectionatewar-mate term. "The fact is, as I was just telling mother, two daysago I didn't know myself that I would be anywhere at this hour exceptspeeding through the air between New York and Washington on my usualmail run in my trusty old Martin-bird. As it is, Buddy, it looks nowas if neither you nor I would ever handle her controls again." Therewas 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 weeksago, when I was here on my last regular lay-over, that Congress wastalking about cutting a big slice out of the Air Mail appropriation, inorder to reduce expenses. Well, the upshot of it all is, they made thecut, and not having enough money to carry on the service as it hasbeen, the head of the Air Mail has ordered the abandonment of allflying divisions except the main line between New York and SanFrancisco. 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 firstopening in the transcontinental line, since my records lead the bunch,and he even offered to displace one of the boys on that route and putme in his place, but--"
"But you refused," interrupted Paul, with conclusive pride in his bigbrother.
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 'goWest'--you know a round dozen of the poor chaps have been killed in thelast 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 andsee if I can't land a berth with them. I simply can't think of workingon the ground. I guess I should have been born a bird, mother, insteadof 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 tofail them, no fire to ignite and burn them up, as our presentairplanes. How many of your own unfortunate associates can lay theiruntimely deaths to either one of these causes! It was only the lasttime you were here that you were telling Paul and me about the terriblefall Howard Smith had because his motor stopped, and how his machineignited, 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, Ithink, and very soon, when stalled motors can be restarted in the air,and when accidentally ignited fuel will burn itself out with no harm toeither the machine or its occupants. The fact is, Paul and I have someideas now as to how to overcome those very troubles, along with otherimprovements, and the first chance we get we are going to build anairplane along these lines and put it to the test, aren't we, Buddy?"
"We surely are," was Paul's enthusiastic response. "One of these finedays, mother, when we get our patents and sell them, you shall live inas fine a home as the Giddings's over on Shadynook Hill, and when youwish to go into the city to do any shopping, John or I will take you ina beautiful sedan airplane which will be safer than an automobile, andwhich will be guaranteed not to raise a dust or wear out tires."
Mrs. Ross laughed heartily at the glowing picture her second son haddrawn, more because he spoke with such seriousness, and because Johntoo 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 someof 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 ourlatest miniature model, the Sky-Bird. Another day's work ought tofinish it."
John followed him downstairs. In one corner of the large basement wasa good-sized workbench, lighted by two windows, and equipped withseveral neatly-arranged shelves, which now held a divers collection ofchisels, bits, countersinks, etc. In a splendid oak cabinet attachedto the wall above was a more extensive array of wood- and metal-workingtools, some of which the brothers had bought with money earned at oddjobs when they were still small boys. Since, they had added to theirset from time to time, as they needed this tool or that, until now fewprofessional mechanics could boast of a finer assortment.
Suspended from a hook directly over the bench was a beautiful six-footmodel of a racy-looking monoplane of peculiar and striking design. Itwas glistening in several coats of spar-varnish, and so light anddelicate was its spidery frame that, as John reached out to take it inhis 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 hecarefully took hold of the pretty thing. "That's just the featurewe've tried to get, too, Buddy,--lightness." He looked closely at thelong, graceful pair of wings, which were of an unusual thickness and aslight upward thrust like those of a bird, and which widened batlike asthey ran back and joined the rear fuselage or body of the craft. "Haveyou put the helium-gas in these wings yet, Paul, as we planned? I seeyou have installed the valves. There's a valve in the after-fuselage,too."
"The wings and fuselage are both filled," said Paul; "that is whatmakes the Sky-Bird so light. If you had brought more helium the lasttime 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. Ihad the scales on her yesterday."
John shared his brother's enthusiasm. "Fine!" he cried, with sparklingeyes. "Why, that's almost a neutral condition, as she is! Buddy, ifwe can apply this principle to a full-size machine--and I don't knowwhy we can't--we shall have solved the biggest problem facing airplanedesigners to-day. With a machine weighing only a trifle more than herload of fuel and baggage, she will not only fly a lot faster but go alot 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 ofreasonable power, where now many machines are handicapped with theburdensome weight of an extra power-plant. When will she be ready totest out?"
"I had planned to give her a trial in the old fair-grounds Saturdayafternoon," said Paul. "I've asked Bob Giddings to go along."
"That's all right; Bob is a fine lad," said John; "but since you haveset the trial for Saturday afternoon, and Bob's father is usually athome at that time, why don't you ask him to view the affair also? I'msure he would enjoy it. He's a great sportsman, you know, like mostnewspaper 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'twish 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 greatlymistaken we'll be consulting with the Patent Office at Washington muchsooner than little mother anticipates." He poked Paul in the ribs ashe spoke, and both young men gave vent to a low chuckle of intensesatisfaction. It was an even greater pleasure to look forward tosurprising their mother than to astonishing the world and winning itsplaudits.
As good an airplane mechanic and flyer as John Ross was, his youngerbrother was little behind him in the matter of skill in handling amodern machine. It had been John's habit to return to Yonkers everytwo weeks for a week's
lay-off, as customary with other pilots in theAir Mail service. On these occasions he had arrived in his plane, andduring the term of his stay had often taken Paul up into the air forpleasure flights, as well as his chum Bob Giddings. Both boys werekeen students, and it was not long before John could trust them tooperate his big Martin with every confidence. Once, indeed, he andPaul had been caught over Long Island Sound in a bad storm, when thelatter was in the pilot's seat, but Paul had brought the craft throughlike a veteran, winning his brother's unstinted praise and undyingrespect.