Airship Andy Or The Luck of a Brave Boy Part 9

He found the aviation field to be a more or less shrouded locality. It was reached only by crossing myriad railroad tracks, dodging oft-shunted freight-cars, scaling embankments and crossing ditches. The field was dotted with shelter tents for the various air machines, trial chutes and perfecting shops.

There were any number of monoplanes, biplanes and dirigible balloons. On the different tents was painted the name of the machine housed therein.

There was the _Montgo_, _Glider_, the _Flying Dutchman_, the _Lady Killer_, and numerous other novelties with fanciful names.

"Every professional seems to be getting up the oddest freak he can think of," explained Parks. "Do you see that new-fangled affair with the round discs? That is called the helicopotol. That two-winged, one-hundred-bladed freak just beyond is the gyropter. Watch that fellow just going up with the tandem rig. That's a new thing, too. It's of the collapsible type, made for quick transportation, but not worth a cent as a racer."

Andy was in a realm of rare delight. He pa.s.sed the happiest and most interesting hour of his life looking over and studying all these wonderful aerial marvels about him.

When they got back to camp, the aeronaut showed Andy where he would sleep, and told him something about the routine.

"I am making test runs with the _Eagle_," he explained, "and will want you to sail with me for a day or two. Then you may try a gra.s.shopper run or two yourself."

"I shall like it immensely," declared Andy with enthusiasm.

When Mr. Parks had left him, Andy wandered outside. The sound of a tw.a.n.ging banjo led him to the front of the kitchen quarters.

Seated on a box, his eyes closed, his face wearing an expression of supreme felicity, was Scipio. Strains of "My Old Kentucky Home" floated on the air. The musician, opening his eyes, happened to spy Andy.

"Tell you, chile," declared the portly old cook, with a rare sigh of longing, "des yar Scip could play dat tune all night long."

"Keep right at it, Scipio," smiled Andy. "You go on enjoying your music, while I do up any little ch.o.r.es you have to attend to."

"If it wouldn't be a deposition on yo'," remarked Scipio thoughtfully, "dar's de suppah dishes I'd like brung back from Mistah Morse's quarters."

"Can I find them?" inquired Andy.

"Yo' jess follow yo' nose down through the big shed," directed Scipio.

"Mistah Morse nevah notice yo'. He's dat substracted he work all night."

Andy proceeded on his mission. Pa.s.sing through one shed, he saw a light at the end of one adjoining. In the second shed he came to a halt with sparkling eyes and bated breath.

Across a light platform lay the skeleton of an airs.h.i.+p. Its airy elegance and fine mechanism appealed to Andy intensely. He went clear around it, wis.h.i.+ng he had the inventive faculty to construct some like masterpiece in its line.

Just beyond the machine was a small apartment where a light was burning.

Near its doorway was a table upon which Andy observed a tray of dishes and the remnants of a meal.

He moved forward carefully to remove them, for seated at a work-bench and deeply engrossed in some work at a small lathe, was a man wearing great goggles on his eyes.

"It must be Mr. Morse, the airs.h.i.+p inventor," thought Andy.

Just then the inventor removed his goggles, rubbed his eyes and turned his face towards Andy.

With a crash the boy dropped a plate, and with a profound start he drew back, staring blankly at the man at the bench.

"Oh, my!" said Andy breathlessly.

CHAPTER IX-THE AIRs.h.i.+P INVENTOR

Morse, the inventor, made a grab for his eye-goggles. He had become a shade paler. He did not take up the goggles, however. Instead, he turned his back on Andy.

Our hero had a right to be startled. He stood staring and spellbound, for he had recognized the inventor in an instant. He was the handcuffed man he had poled down the river from Princeville the night of the flight from the Talbots, and who had given him the very watch he now carried in his pocket with such pride and satisfaction.

The man had shaved off his full beard since Andy had first met him. This made him look different. It was the large, restless eyes, however, that had betrayed his ident.i.ty. Andy would know them anywhere. He at once realized that the inventor had sought to disguise himself. Probably, Andy reasoned, he had caught him off his guard with the goggles off his eyes.

"What did you say 'oh, my!' for?" suddenly demanded the inventor.

"I-I thought I recognized you-I thought I knew you," said Andy.

"Do you think so now?" inquired the inventor, turning sharply face about.

"I certainly thought I knew you."

"And suppose you was right?"

"If you were really the person I supposed," replied Andy, "I would have done just exactly what I promised to do when I last saw that person."

"And what was that?"

"To forget it."

"You'd keep your word, eh?"

"I generally try to."

The man's eyes seemed riveted on Andy in a peculiar way that made the boy squirm. There was something uncanny about it all. Andy experienced a decidedly disagreeable creeping sensation. The inventor was silent for a moment or two. Then he asked:

"Who sent you here?"

"I wasn't sent by any one. I just came."

"How?"

"With Mr. Parks-in his airs.h.i.+p."

"Are you going to stay here?"

"He has hired me at ten dollars a week and board," proudly announced Andy.

"He's a good man," said Morse. "I don't think he'd pick you out if you were a bad boy. What time is it?"

This question was so significant that it fl.u.s.tered Andy. He drew out his watch in a blundering sort of a way, fancying that he detected the faint shadow of a smile on the face of his interlocutor.

"It's half-past seven," he reported.