CHAPTER XVIII.
BUNK JOINS THE PROFESSOR.
I FEAR that our glimpses of Bohunkus Johnson have been so vague that you think it is time something more positive should be told. Let us therefore give our attention to the colored youth and make clear what befell him. It becomes necessary to go back to that day in eastern Pennsylvania when he parted company with Harvey Hamilton. His extraordinary experience was wholly due to the little tiff he had had with the young aviator. How true it is that “great oaks from little acorns grow.” But for that trifling affair I should have finished my story long ago.
It is a hard thing to deal with a brilliant mind gone askew, especially when the line between sanity and insanity becomes at times indistinct, if it does not wholly disappear. Professor Milo Morgan was carried away by his intense interest in aeronautics. You have learned of the remarkable inventions he had already made in that field. He had discovered how to make the flight of his machine noiseless, and could remain in the air for ten or twelve hours. Not only that, but he had succeeded in constructing a helicopter,—that is, an aeroplane that will rise vertically by means of the horizontal screw or propeller beneath.
Having achieved all this, he became absorbed in the scheme of remaining aloft for two days at least. When he could do that he would be able, while traveling at the rate of seventy-five miles an hour, to cross the Atlantic between Quebec and Liverpool (2600 miles) in a trifle less than a day and a half. That his ambition was not so mad as it may seem, I may add that, while I am writing these lines, a professional aviator has declared that he is certain of accomplishing the feat in the near future. I venture to predict, that within the next three years the trip will be made by more than one aviator.
The Professor was so rapt in his work that he thought of nothing else and became indifferent toward every one. He cared nothing for Harvey or Bunk or the great task of Detective Pendar. What he did by way of aiding them may be called side issues. The chances came in his way and he used them as he might have used a score of others of a different nature, with no thought or interest or care in what should follow.
When the African youth came to him at the hotel in Chesterton and asked the privilege of accompanying him to Africa, the proposal was promptly accepted. It may have been that the crank took a liking to the big, honest fellow, but it is more probable he saw that Bohunkus would become more than a simple passenger. The man had felt the need of an assistant,—not a negative person, but one who could help him in what might be called the rough work he had in hand. It was physical, not mental aid that he wanted while engaged in completing his experiments with full success in sight.
The Professor inquired whether Bunk was at liberty to go with him on the long aerial voyage. In other words must he have the permission of young Hamilton?
“Huh!” sniffed the lad, in whose heart still rankled resentment because of his late rebuke; “he hain’t got nuffin to do with me; I’m my own boss and he knows better dan to put on airs with me.”