The Flying Boys to the Rescue

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

He certainly had cause for exasperation. While a Colt’s revolver isn’t a very formidable weapon, and hunters as a rule do not seek big game with small arms, yet the modern make possesses great penetrative powers and it is quite likely that, counting Harvey’s reserve ammunition, he might have given the bear his quietus. Strange that our young friend never realized he was armed until the necessity for it had passed.

“I wish he would show up again,” he added, peering around in the gloom; “I should like to square matters with him for what he made me go through.”

But the brute was not seen or heard again, and perhaps it was as well for the young aviator, who might have been disappointed in the effectiveness of his weapon.

A pleasing fact became manifest. Night was ended and moonlight was giving place to the increasing glow in the eastern sky that showed day was breaking. The hours of trouble, annoyance, vexation and danger were over and he must gather up the threads of life again. He was hungry, but no food was within immediate reach, and he could afford to wait until the situation cleared before seeking nourishment. He was within easy reach of thriving settlements, towns, and even cities of considerable size. To the north stretched the picturesque Adirondacks, with their wealth of streams, rivers and lakes, their vast areas of wilderness and many recesses where only the solitary hunter had as yet forced his way. Hundreds of people in quest of health and recreation were roaming through the wilds, living in log cabins or tents, or sleeping in blankets by wood fires, kindled in the depth of the solitude. They spent the glorious days in fishing, tramping and breathing the life-giving ozone, which sent them back to their duties invigorated, strengthened and renewed in body and spirit. It was a famous clergyman who, a half century before, published a book of his experiences in the Adirondacks, insisting that the mountains would cure men who had almost reached the last stages of consumption. The tonic properties of the region are extraordinary and the entrancing story sent droves thither. The majority were disappointed by his glowing pictures and when they emerged and registered their names at the primitive hotels on the outskirts, they added, “Murray’s Fools.” None the less, unnumbered invalids have found the section a veritable land of hope.

There was no thought of anything of this nature in the mind of Harvey Hamilton when he stood beside his aeroplane, after an inspection had shown him it was in perfect condition and ready for whatever service he required of it. As is often the case with the brain which is perplexed at night, it was clarified in the morning. He was confronted by a formidable task, but his policy was settled.

He fully believed that Professor Morgan after studying his invention in his workshop, subjected it to the decisive test in the open air, by sailing well to the northward and returning to his retreat when he discovered any defect. The distance passed might be ten, fifteen, twenty or a greater number of miles. He had not yet perfected his invention, but expected to do so quite soon. He was resolute in his purpose to carry Bohunkus Johnson across the ocean to Africa, and would fight to prevent any one taking the negro from him. With the whimsical persistence of an unbalanced brain he grew to distrust Bunk himself. The dusky youth had asked that he might be a passenger on the wonderful journey, and having received permission, would be held to the agreement.

It was this state of mind that led the inventor to transport his assistant, as he may be considered, to the northern terminus of those experimental flights, and there leave him until the time should come to start on the aerial voyage to the other side of the world. As has been said, it was an easy matter to take such food as he required, and Bohunkus having no weapons and being in the heart of an unknown wilderness, would be terrified by the thought of trying to make his way out without some one to guide him.

Such in brief was the theory that Harvey had formed and upon which he decided to work until its error appeared. As he figured matters, the great problem to solve was the location of the spot where Bohunkus was held a virtual prisoner, for the young aviator put from him the fear that the crazy Professor had made way with Bunk.

If Harvey was right in his surmises, the monoplane would soon wing its way northward, passing not far from the spot where the other machine was partially hidden on the edge of the small meadow. Harvey must learn so far as he could where the Professor’s destination lay. It would be easy to do this, provided he could pursue without danger of discovery, but that was impossible: some other method must be followed.

Harvey decided to wait where he was until the monoplane sailed past and then watch its course through his field glass. If he failed to locate the precise spot, he would approximate it and narrow the area of search.