CHAPTER XVIII
A CLOSE FINISH
The incidents of the next hour or so would be hard to picture from the standpoint of Jerry's emotions. As they half ran over to where the Skyrocket stood ready, snorting like an impatient racehorse, his heart was filled with a kind of frightened determination. Once he was strapped into his seat, his pulses stopped galloping so fast, but as Tod began an endless fumbling with levers, plainly as nervous as his chum, Jerry's nerve oozed out at his fingertips; he might have climbed out had it not been for the straps—and the two men, who now came forward and insisted that the boys give up their hair-brained plan. Jerry would have been killed by inches rather than give in to them.
A sudden terrifying lurch, a dizzy parting company with solid earth that almost made Jerry part company with his stomach. He yelled, but it might easily have been through excitement rather than fear. He hoped the two and Tod would think so. He dared not look down—all he could do was grip the rod before him with a death-defying clutch. Faster and faster, higher and higher they mounted, the air whistling by them like mad.
"Can't you slow her down a little?" he yelled in Tod's ear, but Tod gave no answer. He could hardly have heard above the roar of the motor and the sickening whine of the propellers—not to intention a steady drumming of taut wires and tightly stretched silk. "Can't you tune her down?" Jerry yelled, louder this time, "and get her level?"
"Can't!" shouted Tod. "I've forgotten which handle to pull, even if I knew which way to pull it!"
He tried first one and then another, but although they lurched dangerously, first this way and then that, they kept mounting into the sky. Finally there was but one chance left—Tod cautiously drew the lever toward him, then with an "Ah!" heard above all the noise, brought it all the way. The Skyrocket quivered, dropped to an even keel, and then turned her nose earthward. But Tod was ready for that. Halfway back he shoved, the lever and once more the Skyrocket rode level.
They had left Lost Island far behind, but in which direction they could not be sure. A long streak of flame to the left told them that a railroad lay there, and it could be none other than the Belt Line that ran into Watertown. Through a rift in the clouds a cluster of stars showed briefly—the Big Dipper. "See!" shouted Tod. "We're headed north, all right."
They were going much slower now, and the noise was not so deafening; they could talk without splitting their throats. Dimly they made out Plum Run directly beneath them, while a haze of lights indicated Watertown, the goal. Even as they watched it seemed to be drawing nearer.
"Were you scared?" asked Tod.
"Stiff," confessed Jerry. "You?"
"Should say. Bet my hair's turned white. Where'll we land?"
"Where can you?"
"Don't know. River, most likely. Say, we're lucky we're alive. I thought I knew how to run it until we got off the ground. Then I found I'd forgotten more than I ever learned."
"Did you ever run it before?"
"With dad watching, yes. Once, that is. But I've faked running it a hundred times there in the hangar. Suppose we could come down in your back lot? It's level—and big enough, maybe."
"We might hit a horse. Dad's got Daisy in there nights."
"We'll have to chance it, I guess. But you hold on good and tight, because I'll probably pull the wrong strings at the last minute. Where are we now?"
"That's the mill yonder, I think. We want to swing west a little now.
Suppose they are at the house by now?"
"Most likely. They had a good start. Shall we get your dad?"
"Uhuh. And several others—with guns. Better have old Bignold." Mr. Bignold was the only night policeman in Watertown. "There's the city limits, that switch-tower on the Belt Line. Hadn't we better come down a bit. I don't like the idea of falling so far."
Tod obediently let the Skyrocket slide down a few hundred feet, till they were just above the tree-tops. They could see that their arrival was causing a commotion below. They could even hear the cries of alarm. "Bet they think we're a comet," chuckled Tod.
Now he began to circle a bit, for it was hard to identify houses and streets in the dark and from this unfamiliar view. At last Jerry gave a shout of joy. "There's our house—and I bet that's dad coming out to see what's up. Hey, dad!" he yelled, but the running figure below made no answer.
"Well, here goes for Daisy!" chuckled Tod, at the same time pointing the Skyrocket earthward so sharply that it made Jerry gasp. Down, down they shot, the black underneath seeming to be rushing up to crush them. At the last Tod managed to lessen their slant, but even then they struck the ground with a force that almost overturned the machine. Over the rough ground the landing wheels jolted, but slower and slower. A final disrupting jar, and they stopped dead.
Not so the object they had struck. With a wild squeal of fear poor Daisy struggled to her feet and went tearing out of sight and hearing at better speed than she had shown for years.
"That'll bring dad on the jump," declared Jerry, climbing painfully from his seat. "Say, to-morrow I'm going to take a good look at this rod I've been holding to; I'll bet it shows fingermarks."
"What's the meaning of that rumpus out there?" demanded a stern voice.
"Oh, dad—we need you the worst way."
"That you, Jerry? What in tarnation you up to anyhow?"
"We're not up any longer—we're glad to get back to earth."
"Eh?" said Mr. Ring, perplexed, as he came up to them. "What ye driving at? What was that thing that just sailed over the house? Did you see it? I heard Daisy going on out here like the devil before day—or was it you two who were pestering her? What's that contraption you're sitting on?"
"The same thing that just sailed over, dad," laughed Jerry, then, unable to hold in any longer: "We came from Lost Island in Mr. Fulton's aeroplane that he's just invented, and there's robbers in Mr. Fulton's house, and we want you to get a gun and Mr. Bignold and all the neighbors, and go down and get them!" Jerry stopped, but only because he was out of breath.
"Get them? Who are them? And what in thunder you two doing in an aero——" "Oh, dad," Jerry almost screamed in his fear that delay might make them too late, "don't stop to ask questions. Let's get to the house and Tod can be telephoning while I tell you what it's all about." He caught hold of his father's arm to hurry him along. "There are two men breaking into Mr. Fulton's safe this minute, most likely, and we mustn't let them get away."
"Well, what in thunder's Fulton got in a safe that any robber would want?" grumbled Mr. Ring, but stepping briskly along nevertheless. "Two men, you say? Guess Bignold and I can handle them. I've got my old horse-pistol—if it doesn't blow out backwards."
They had reached the house, and Tod went in to telephone, while Mr. Ring went upstairs to get his revolver, which, instead of being a horse pistol, was an automatic of the latest type. Jerry stopped him for a moment at the stair door. "I'm going ahead. I'll be just outside the gate over yonder, keeping an eye on the place to see they don't get away." He was gone before Mr. Ring could object.
But the house was dark and silent. Not a sign of unwelcome visitors was to be seen. All the windows were tightly closed; both doors were shut. Jerry felt uncomfortable. Suppose there was no one there—had been no one there? The two men would roast him and Tod unmercifully. He heard a light step on the walk behind him and turned, expecting his father. His words of greeting died in his throat.
Two men, looking unbelievably big and threatening in the darkness, were almost upon him. He tried to shout for help. His tongue seemed paralyzed and his throat refused to give out a sound. Jerry was scared stiff. He knew at once that these two were the men they had come to capture, and somehow he had a feeling that they knew that, too.
Not a word was said. Jerry had backed up against the gatepost, his fists doubled up at his sides.
The two pressed in close against him. He felt powerful hands reaching out to crush the life out of him, but still he made no outcry. Then one of them spoke.
"You came in the airship?"
Jerry started, for the man's English was perfect, though heavy and foreign sounding in an unexplainable way. He repeated his question when the boy did not answer at once.
"Yes—yes," stammered Jerry, hoping that perhaps he might gain time.
"You came alone?" insinuated the same speaker as before, but now an ominous note of threat in his voice.
Jerry was in a quandary. He realized that if he told them that he had come alone, that they would kill him. On the other hand, if he told them the truth, they would get away.
"Answer!" commanded the man, catching Jerry by the throat and shaking him till the back of Jerry's eyeballs seemed to be red, searing flames. A sudden rage came over him, numbed as he was by the pressure on his windpipe. With a mighty wrench he freed himself. Kicking out with all his might, he caught the farther man full in the pit of the stomach. He fell, all doubled up. But the man who had choked Jerry, laughed scornfully as lie caught the boy's arms and gave the one a twist that almost tore it from its socket.
"More spirit than brains," he laughed derisively. "I'll break you in two over my knee if you make another break like that."
"You'll kindly put up your hands in the meanwhile," suggested a pleasant but firm voice which Jerry could hardly recognize as that of his father. "I think I'll take a little hand in this game myself."
"Look out, dad—there's one on the ground!" warned Jerry. "I kicked him in the stomach."
"Pleasant way to treat visitors. Why didn't you invite them into the house, son? Oblige me, gentlemen." He waved his automatic in the general direction of the Fulton front porch. "I'd ask you to my own house, but, you know, womenfolks——"
Jerry stepped out of the way. His assailant passed him and turned to go in the gateway. Then something happened, just what, Jerry was not sure. Afterwards it developed that he had been picked up bodily and hurled full at his father. Mr. Ring went down like a tenpin when the ball hits dead-center. As he fell, his finger pressed the trigger and six roaring shots flashed into the air. When father and son regained their feet, they had a last dim glimpse of two forms in rapid flight. Then the darkness swallowed them up.
"We bungled it," said Mr. Ring, ruefully feeling of a certain soft spot in his body where Jerry's weight had landed.
"And here come Tod—and Chief Bignold, just a minute too late."
"Hi there, Mr. Ring," called the burly constable. "What is it—a riot?"
"A massacre, but all the victims escaped. Two blooming foreigners trying to steal an airship out of Mr. Fulton's safe down there in his cellar—wasn't that what you said, boys?"
The boys tried to explain, but both men seemed to insist on taking the whole affair as a joke, though they talked it over seriously enough when the youngsters were out of hearing. Tod opened the door and let them inside the house, but did not go in himself, motioning to Jerry to stay beside him.
"You two youngsters chase along over to the house and tell Mrs. Ring to give you your nursing bottles and put you to bed."
"Huh," snorted Tod, "we daren't leave the Skyrocket unguarded."
"Why it's Fulton's kid," exclaimed Bignold, for the first time recognizing him. "Say, you tell your dad that he's been stirring up this town till it's wild with excitement. Three telegrams this day, not to mention a special delivery letter that they've been hunting all over the country for him with. And on top of that, an important little man with brass buttons and shoulder-straps, struttin' all over the place and askin' everybody if he's Mr. Fulton, the inventor. When'd your dad get to be an inventor?"
"Well, he had to be born sometime," answered Tod dryly.
"Eh? Well, you'd best tell that same little busy-bee where your father can be found. And the telegrams; don't forget them."
"I won't," answered Tod, starting off toward town on the run. "Watch the old Skyrocket till I get back, will you, Jerry?" and he was gone.
* * * * * * *
Two stiff, sleepy, disgusted boys sat up in their nest of blankets and looked at each other through the framework of the Skyrocket next morning at something like seven o'clock.
"And you said you wouldn't go to sleep," each said slowly and accusingly to the other, then both grinned sheepishly.
"Oh, well, the machine's still here, so why grouch over a couple hours' sleep?" Tod defended. "Huh—I suppose not. But I'll bet dad had a good laugh over us when he came down here about breakfast time. What's that pinned to your blanket?"
Tod crawled out of his nest and pulled loose the scrap of paper that had been pinned in the region of his big toe.
"It's a note. Want to hear it? It says, 'Mother Ring tells me pancakes are ready for you when you've finished your guard-mount. Signed—A Burglar.' That's sure one on us."
It was scant justice that the two did to breakfast that morning. Four telegrams were burning holes in Tod's pockets; he could hardly keep from tearing them open, so curious was he to know their contents. Even the newspaper that Mrs. King brought in and laid beside their plates, could not entirely hold their attention, in spite of the startling news headlined on the front page. "BREAK WITH GERMANY—U. S. on Verge of Being Drawn Into World War."
"We'll take it with us and read it after we get there. No—not another cake, Mrs. Ring. Excuse us, please—we've got to go."
"It seems a shame——" began Tod, when they were once more outside, then asked abruptly: "Willing to take a licking, Jerry?"
"And go back on the Skyrocket? Did you think we were going any other way? And leave the machine here for anybody to come along and study out—or steal? Not much! I'll take a dozen lickings!"
But he didn't. When the Skyrocket finally circled about Lost Island and settled down over the narrow landing field as easily as a homing pigeon, to come to a stop with hardly a jar, it was bringing news to Mr. Fulton that was bound to soften the heart of any dad.
Tod's father was out in front of the little cabin, a bit pale and shaky, but cheerful. His face lighted up wonderfully when he saw the Skyrocket aground and the two boys safe. He tried to rise to greet them, but had to be satisfied to wave his hand instead. The two boys came running over to where he sat, eager to tell their story.
"What's happened?" Mr. Fulton asked excitedly before they could begin. He was pointing at the newspaper Jerry had been waving wildly as they raced across the open.
"War—maybe—with Germany! But we've more important news than that—for us just now, at least. Telegrams—four of them—look. And an officer's been looking for you——"
"Police?" asked Mr. Fulton gravely.
"Army!" exploded Tod and Jerry together. "Bet it's about the——"
They paused, for Mr. Fulton was not listening to them. He had torn one of the telegraph envelopes open and was reading the brief message, his face going first red and then white.
"What's all the excitement?" demanded a slow voice in which there was a trace of resentment. It was Mr. Harris, who had appeared in the doorway of the cabin.
"Nothing much," answered Mr. Fulton. "Nothing at all. In fact, the excitement's all over. I'm certainly very glad that you balked yesterday on buying that 'pig in a poke,' my dear baronet. It seems," flapping the opened telegram against his other hand, "it seems, my very dear sir, that the American government, being confronted by a situation which bears more than a promise of war, has offered to buy the ideas which are embodied in the Skyrocket."
"Hooray for Uncle Sammy!" shouted Tod.
All the boys had come crowding around, slapping Tod and Jerry wildly on the back and cheering till their throats were hoarse. It was fully five minutes before anyone could make himself heard above the din. Finally Mr. Fulton raised his hand for a chance to be heard, and after one rousing shout of "Three cheers for the Scouts of the Air!" the noisy crew quieted down.
"Phil asked me one day if I'd promise you all a front seat at the circus and a ride on the elephant. Well, I'm going to keep my word, I've got a piece of timber about forty miles up the river from here, and on it there's a log cabin and one of the greatest little old fishing lakes in the country. I'm going to take you all up there for a month of the best sport you ever had."
"Bully for you, dad!" shouted Tod, then turned to Jerry with:
"And while we're there, what say we learn the first principles of Boy Scouting, so that when we get back to Watertown we can organize a patrol of——"
"The Boy Scouts of the Air!" finished Dave and Frank and Jerry in a breath.