“Perhaps,” admitted Tot. “But Kane’s aëroplane is practically the same as your own, and it is still on the programme.”
“It won’t fly, though,” declared Burthon, with a laugh. “Don’t worry about anything but your own work, Tyler. Leave all the rest to me.”
The man knew his employer was playing a hazardous game and that he had stolen outright the Kane Aircraft, and while the knowledge did not add to Tot Tyler’s nerve or assurance he was gleeful over the prospect of “doing” his enemy, Cumberford. The little fellow was bold enough—even to the point of bravery—and fully as unprincipled as his employer. His hatred of Cumberford was so acrid that he would have gone to any length, even without pay, to defeat his plans, and Burthon found him an eager and willing tool. Nevertheless, the little man scented danger ahead of them and had an idea that trouble was brewing from some unknown source.
By this time Burthon had begun a campaign of widespread publicity, and in spite of the long list of famous aviators in the city the newspapers were filled with pictures of the Burthon device and accounts of the marvelous flights of Totham Tyler. Nothing more was heard of the Kane Aircraft, but the public had not forgotten it and many were puzzled that two local aëroplane makers should be exhibiting identically the same improvements, each claiming to have originated them. As for the visiting aviators, they were interested, but held their peace. The performances at the coming competition would tell the story of supremacy, and whatever good points were displayed by the local inventors could doubtless be adapted to their own craft. They waited, therefore, for proof of the glowing claims made in the newspapers. Many promising inventions have turned out to be failures.
The public was, to an extent, in the same doubting mood. Kane’s magnificent public flight had ended with an accident, while Tyler’s preliminary exhibitions were in no way remarkable as compared with records already established. The meet would tell the story.
Meantime Orissa completed her repairs. On the day that Steve came home from the hospital in an ambulance she wheeled him in an invalid chair to the hangar and allowed the boy to inspect a perfect aircraft. The young man suffered no pain, and although he was physically helpless his eye and brain were as keen as ever. Being wheeled around the device, so that he could observe it from all sides and at all angles, he made a thorough examination of his sister’s work and declared it excellent.
“Think you can manage it, Ris?” he asked, referring to her proposed venture.
“I am sure I can,” she promptly replied. “You must understand—all of you,” turning to confront Mr. Cumberford and Sybil, who were present, “that I am not undertaking this flight from choice. Had Steve been able to exhibit his own aëroplane I might never have tried to fly alone; but it seems to me that our fortune, my brother’s future career, and our friend Mr. Cumberford’s investment, all hinge upon our making a good showing at Dominguez Field. No one but me is competent to properly exhibit the aircraft, to show all its good points and prove what it is capable of doing. Therefore I have undertaken to save our reputation and our money, and I am sure that my decision is proper and right.”
“I agree with you,” said Steve, eagerly. “You’re a brave little girl, Ris.”
“I have but one request to make, Mr. Cumberford,” she added.