CHAPTER VIII
AT THE AERO MEET
“Well, Ben, this is life worth living, eh?”
“Bob,” declared Ben enthusiastically, “it’s been the event of my life.”
“And more to come. We want to make an early start to-morrow. I’ll show you what real air sailing is then.”
Ben Hardy was, indeed, having the liveliest time in all his youthful experience. This was his third day at Blairville, and every minute since his arrival had been packed full of excitement and pleasure.
Mr. Davis had greeted him with a kindly courtesy and attention that would win the heart of any live, up-to-date boy. The fact that he was a relative of Bob Dallow had added to the friendly interest of the aviator. Bob, to use a popular phrase, had made good. He had taken to practical aeronautics like a duck to water.
IT WAS THE FIRST TIME HE HAD SEEN A REAL AIRSHIP AFLOAT.
One week of practice under the direction of the skilled man-bird, Mr. Davis, had proven that Bob was going to become as good an aviator as he was an accomplished chauffeur. Mr. Davis had comfortable living quarters in a building on the aviation field. Ben was invited to double up with Bob, and they made a happy and a merry team.
The first day had been a bewildering experience of delight and astonishment for Ben. It was an occasion of experiment and preparation for trial flights on the morrow. Bob in his lively way had become a general favorite with the various aeronauts on the field. He and Ben had free entrance to every tent and aero hangar in the enclosure. After a while Ben’s interest grew into studious attention, and that evening he pored industriously over the technical aviation literature of which Mr. Davis had a surfeit.
The aviator was more than pleased at the real interest displayed by his willing protégé. Bob Dallow had gratified him with his cool daring and quick adaptation to his new calling. In Ben, however, the old aviator discovered more of the scientific and constructive element. He was kindly disposed, and he seemed decided to give Ben all the encouragement he could.
The second day was fairly spectacular for our hero. It was the first time he had seen a real airship afloat. He had already mastered the mechanism of the aeroplane. Their ready manipulation by the aviators, however, fairly fascinated him.
It was a famous sight to see a venturesome air sailor start a daring altitude record in the teeth of a wind blowing twenty miles an hour. It was like a dream to watch a machine diminish to a mere speck in the air, and then in a roundabout gyration through several complete circles, wind up in a sensational glide back to its starting place.
Some of the bird-men went so far and so high that they stiffly climbed from their machines as they regained terra firma. One monoplane ventured some practicable curves, dashed into a fence and was demolished. There were many triumphs, but some mishaps as well. Ben stored a mass of valuable ideas in his mind that stirring day in his new experience.
Mr. Davis gave the boys a ride in his monoplane, the Flyer, the day following. It was Ben’s first flight. He went through all the thrills of an initial ascent, but was charmed after the first breathless rush aloft in the subsequent cavortings of the light and dainty fabric of wood and canvas.
The present aero meet was simply preliminary to a contest occasion for prizes two weeks later. A convention at a near city was to intervene. Until the last of the month the enclosed field would be simply a practice campus. On the coming Saturday, however, there were to be some endurance tests which would go far towards deciding the selection of the best aeroplane on the grounds.
Ben had arranged to wait and see this event. Then he was to return home. He had freely confessed to Mr. Davis that he intended to go into building an airship of his own.
It was Wednesday evening when Ben and Bob were discussing “the early start to-morrow.” Both were looking forward to the ensuing morning to an event in which they were especially interested. It was to be a free-for-all occasion. Bob had persuaded Mr. Davis to allow them to use the Flyer, in fact Bob and Ben had made several experimental flights that afternoon. It had ended in Ben making a suggestion which set his impulsive chum on fire with expectancy and enthusiasm.
“Keep it to yourself, Ben,” directed Bob, as they went to their quarters for the night. “We’ll show these aviator-fellows some fancy work and a novelty feature or two.”
“It will be quite a novelty, I think, yes,” said Ben. “Don’t be too venturesome, though, Bob.”
“It’s the only way to attract attention and get even a look in at the prize aero meet,” declared Bob. “I’m a candidate all right, if they’ll give me a show.”
Ben made a mysterious visit to town late in the afternoon. He returned in a wagon, the driver of which was directed to deliver a mysterious load at an old unused shed at an unfrequented part of the grounds.
Five o’clock the next morning found Ben and Bob arrived at this shed in sprightly mood. Hauling two long light packages outside of the structure, they proceeded to unpack them. They brought to light over two dozen cardboard boxes about a foot square. They had no covers, and Ben next brought from the shed a bundle of sticks about five feet long.
“Now then,” said Bob, “got the hammer and tacks?”
“Full supply, Bob,” replied Ben cheerily.
“All right, you sharpen one end of the sticks, and I’ll tack the box on to the end of them.”
In less than a half an hour the boys had the boxes open depth upwards mounted on the sticks.
“Now then, to place them,” suggested Ben. “This part of the field isn’t used much, and we can cover all the space we want.”
They proceeded to set the sticks in the ground at regular intervals, covering a space over one half a mile in length and extending two hundred yards from the fence.
“For all the world they look like a lot of bird boxes on a ranch,” observed Bob. “Just about the right distance apart.”
“Won’t somebody disturb them?” inquired Ben.
“Why should anyone do that? Of course this queer layout will attract attention. No one will meddle with our little stations, though, for they will know they must be an equipment for some new experiments.”
The night watchman came forward to meet the boys as Ben emerged from the shed, a bag slung across his shoulders.
The officer leaned perplexedly on his cane and stood staring wonderingly at the singular outlay of boxes.
“Hello, Mr. Brown,” hailed Bob heartily. “Thought you had gone home, and we were stealing a march on you.”
“I’m waiting to be relieved by the day man. He’s a little late on duty,” explained the watchman. “What’s those boxes?”
“Oh, a big new idea, Mr. Brown,” declared Bob, with a mysterious air.
“No mischief, I hope?”
“Mischief?” repeated Bob with great gravity. “I should say not. If Ben and I don’t tumble out of the airship, those boxes will comprise a very original and remarkable experiment in the aviation line.”
“That so?” muttered the watchman in a puzzled way.
“Yes, sir. Say, Mr. Brown, won’t you speak to the day man and have him keep a sort of watch over the boxes here, so that nobody meddles with them?”
“I will, if you’ll tell me what you’re up to along with them.”
“That’s a bargain—listen,” said Bob.
“Aha!” exclaimed the watchman, as Bob whispered in his ear. “Well, you are two originals, and no mistake! I’ll tell my partner.”
“And keep it a secret until the event comes off?”
“Oh, sure—but what will he tell the fellows who will be snooking around here wanting to know what it all means?”
“Why,” said Bob, “just say—stunts.”
“But they will want to know what kind of stunts.”
“All right,” replied Bob Dallow airily, “tell them we’re going to make some bomb dropping experiments.”