Airship Andy Or The Luck of a Brave Boy Part 15

What he did he did so quickly that Andy could not follow all of his movements. The hands of the little man moved about like those of an expert weaver at the loom. The result was a marvel. In some way he caught Dale around the neck. The next moment he swung him from the ground past his shoulder and his adversary landed with a thump.

Gus dropped the rope and ran at the stranger, club uplifted. Again the wiry strength of the little man was exerted. He seemed to stoop, and his arms enclosed Gus about the hips. There was a tug and tussle. Gus was wrenched from his footing, and went skidding to the ground, face down, for nearly two yards.

"Thunder!" he shouted, wiping the sand from his mouth.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE WIRY STRENGTH OF THE LITTLE MAN WAS EXERTED]

"Go," said the stranger, advancing upon the prostrate twain, who scrambled promptly to their feet.

Both dove for the loose plank in the fence and disappeared through it.

The stranger drew out a pocket-knife and relieved Andy of his bonds.

"I look at you and then at those two," he said simply, "and your face tells me the true story. Where would you go?"

Andy pointed in the direction of the Parks' Aerodome, and the man walked by his side in its direction.

"I don't care to have those fellows find out where I am working,"

explained Andy. "Mister," he added admiringly, "how did you do it?"

"It was simple jiu-jitsu."

"Eh? Oh, yes, I've heard of that," said Andy, but vaguely. "It's a new j.a.panese wrestling trick, isn't it?"

"I am from j.a.pan," observed his companion with a courteous dignity of manner that impressed Andy.

"I see," nodded Andy, "and you come from a wonderful people."

"We strive to learn," replied his companion. "That is why I am here. I was sent to this country to study aeronautics. Besides that, the science has a peculiar attraction for me. My father was chief kite maker to the family of the Mikado."

"Is it possible?" said Andy.

"I therefore have an absorbing interest in your airmen and their daring work. You must know that we make wonderful kites in my home country."

"I have heard something of it," said Andy.

"Two hundred years ago many of the principles now used in your airs.h.i.+ps were used in our kite flying, only we never tried to fly ourselves."

"We have a gentleman up at our camp who would be just delighted to talk with you," declared Andy enthusiastically. "He is an inventor, a Mr.

Morse."

"I should like to meet him," said the j.a.panese.

"Then come right along with me," invited Andy cordially; "only, say, please, don't mention the fix you found me in."

"It shall be so," declared his companion.

Andy made sure that his recent captors were not following them as they made a cut across a field and reached the Parks' camp. He led his guest into the sitting room of the living building, to find his employer and Mr. Morse there. Andy introduced his companion. It did not take long for the inventor to discover a kindred spirit in the j.a.panese, who gave his name as Tsilsuma.

That night after he had got into bed Andy wondered if he had not better tell Mr. Morse or his employer his entire story, and the former about the near proximity of his old-time enemy, Duske. Then, too, he worried some over the appearance of Gus and Dale and his daily risk of being arrested. With daylight, however, Andy forgot all these minor troubles.

There was to be a race for a small prize that afternoon on the aviation field, and Parks had arranged for the _Racing Star_ to partic.i.p.ate. The aeronaut was busy half the morning seeing to the machine, while Mr.

Morse flitted about adjusting a device suggested by the intelligent Tsilsuma for folding the floats under the aeroplane. The j.a.panese, too, had suggested sled runners in front and wheels at the rear for starting gear.

The _Racing Star_ had not appeared in the general field before, and this was a kind of qualification flight. Just after two o'clock Parks made his final inspection of the bearings of the motors and the word to go was given. Andy sailed over the railroad tracks and landed in the field half a mile distant, with a dexterity that made his rivals there take a good deal of notice of him and the _Racing Star_.

When the word came Andy started the motor, and a friend of the aeronaut tugged at the propellers. With a blast that resembled a cyclone the airs.h.i.+p started.

The helpers worked at the rudders, and after a run of only seventy-five feet the _Racing Star_ shot up into the air.

Andy tried a preliminary stunt that he had practiced for two days past.

It was to fly around the field in a figure eight at a height of ninety-five feet. Then, just to test the excellency of the machine, he plunged for the ground.

"The boy will kill himself!" shouted the man in charge of the race, but just at the critical moment Andy s.h.i.+fted his steering planes and flew across the ground, barely skimming the gra.s.s.

Once in this fas.h.i.+on he went around the course, then another upward lunge and he circled back to the starting point and came gently to earth. The crowds sent up an enthusiastic roar.

Four other machines made their exhibition in turn. Two went through a clumsy process, one became disabled, and the other retired with the derisive criticism of "Gra.s.shopper!" as its pilot failed to lift it more than ten feet from the ground at any time.

"Mind the wind checks, Andy, lad," warned John Parks anxiously, as the three aeroplanes were ranged for the prize test of a mile run around the course.

"I'll be the pathfinder or nothing!" declared Andy, his eyes bright and observant, his nerves tingling with the excitement of the moment.

"Go!"

The three powerful mechanical birds arose in the air, dainty creations of grace and beauty, Andy in the lead. Then his nearest compet.i.tor pa.s.sed him. Then No. 3 shot ahead of the other two, and then the turn.

"Huzza!" breathed Parks.

At his side, safe from recognition in his great disfiguring goggles, Mr.

Morse moved restlessly from foot to foot. The _Racing Star_ had accomplished what he had worked so hard to bring about-a true circle in a rapid turn.

The two other machines bungled. One nearly upset. Down the course came Andy, headed like an arrow for the starting point. A slanting dive, and the _Racing Star_ skimmed the ground fully five hundred feet in advance of the nearest opponent.

Watch in hand, John Parks ran up to Andy, his face aglow with professional pride and delight.

"Won the race-but better than that you have beat the home record by eight seconds!"

"Winner, the _Racing Star_," sang out the starter.

And then he added:

"Time: forty-eight seconds and seven-eighths."

"Hurrah!" shouted John Parks, throwing his hat in the air.