CHAPTER V
VOL-PLANING TO EARTH
For a moment after Mr. Damon's announcement Tom did not reply. Mr.Swift, too, seemed a little at a loss for something to say. They didnot quite know how to take their eccentric friend at times.
"Of course I'll be glad of your company, Mr. Damon," said Tom: "butyou must remember that my BUTTERFLY is not like the RED CLOUD. Thereis more danger riding in the monoplane than there is in the airship.In the latter, if the engine happens to stop, the sustaining gaswill prevent us from falling. But it isn't so in an aeroplane. Whenyour engine stops there--"
"Well, what happens?" asked Mr. Damon, impatiently, for Tomhesitated.
"You have to vol-plane back to earth."
"Vol-plane?" and there was a questioning note in Mr. Damon's voice.
"Yes, glide down from whatever height you are at when the enginestalls. Come down in a series of dips from the upper currents.Vol-planing, the French call it, and I guess it's as good a word asany."
"Have you ever done it?" asked the odd character.
"Oh, yes, several times."
"Then, bless my fur overcoat! I can do it, too, Tom. When will yoube ready to start?"
"To-morrow morning. Now you are sure you won't get nervous and wantto jump, if the engine happens to break down?"
"Not a bit of it. I'll vol-plane whenever you are ready," and Mr.Damon laughed.
"Well, we'll hope we won't have to," went on Tom. "And I'll be veryglad of your company. Mr. Fenwick will, no doubt, be pleased to seeyou. I've never met him, and it will be nice to have some one tointroduce me. Suppose you come out and see what sort of a craft youare doomed to travel in to-morrow, Mr. Damon. I believe you neversaw my new monoplane."
"That's right, I haven't, but I'd be glad to. I declare, I'm gettingto be quite an aviator," and Mr. Damon chuckled. A little later,Tom, having informed his father of the sending of the message, tookhis eccentric friend out to the shop, and exhibited the BUTTERFLY.
As many of you have seen the ordinary monoplane, either onexhibition or in flight, I will not take much space to describeTom's. Sufficient to say it was modeled after the one in whichBleriot made his first flight across the English channel.
The body was not unlike that of a butterfly or dragon fly, long andslender, consisting of a rectangular frame with canvas stretchedover it, and a seat for two just aft of the engine and controllinglevers. Back of the seat stretched out a long framework, and at theend was a curved plane, set at right angles to it. The ends of theplane terminated in flexible wings, to permit of their being bent upor down, so as to preserve the horizontal equilibrium of the craft.
At the extreme end was the vertical rudder, which sent the monoplaneto left or right.
Forward, almost exactly like the front set of wings of the dragonfly, was the large, main plane, with the concave turn toward theground. There was the usual propeller in front, operated by a fourcylinder motor, the cylinders being air cooled, and set like thespokes of a wheel around the motor box. The big gasolene tank, andother mechanism was in front of the right-hand operator's seat,where Tom always rode. He had seldom taken a passenger up with him,though the machine would easily carry two, and he was a littlenervous about the outcome of the trip with Mr. Damon.
"How do you like the looks of it?" asked the young inventor, as hewheeled the BUTTERFLY out of the shed, and began pumping up thetires of the bicycle wheels on which it ran over the ground, to getimpetus enough with which to rise.
"It looks a little frail, compared to the big RED CLOUD, Tom,"answered the eccentric man, "but I'm going up in her just the same;bless my buttons if I'm not."
Tom could not but admire the grit of his friend.
The rest of the day was busily spent making various adjustments tothe monoplane, putting on new wire stays, changing the ruddercables, and tuning up the motor. The propeller was tightened on theshaft, and toward evening Tom announced that all was in readinessfor a trial flight.
"Want to come, Mr. Damon?" he asked.
"I'll wait, and see how it acts with you aboard," was the answer."Not that I'm afraid, for I'm going to make the trip in the morning,but perhaps it won't work just right now."
"Oh, I guess it will," ventured Tom, and in order to be able to knowjust how his BUTTERFLY was going to behave, with a passenger of Mr.Damon's weight, the young inventor placed a bag of sand on the extraseat.
The monoplane was then wheeled to the end of the starting ground.Tom took his place in the seat, and Mr. Jackson started thepropeller. At first the engine failed to respond, but suddenly witha burst of smoke, and a spluttering of fire the cylinders beganexploding. The hat of Mr. Damon, who was standing back of themachine, was blown off by the wind created by the propeller.
"Bless my gaiters!" he exclaimed, "I never thought it was as strongas that!"
"Let go!" cried Tom to Mr. Jackson and Eradicate, who were holdingback the monoplane from gliding over the ground.
"All right," answered the engineer.
An instant later the explosions almost doubled, for Tom turned onmore gasolene. Then, like some live thing, the BUTTERFLY rushedacross the starting ground. Faster and faster it went, until theyoung inventor, knowing that he had motion enough, tilted his planesto catch the wind.
Up he went from earth, like some graceful bird, higher and higher,and then, in a big spiral, he began ascending until he was fivehundred feet in the air. Up there he traveled back and forth, incircles, and in figure eights, desiring to test the machine invarious capacities.
Suddenly the engine stopped, and to those below, anxiously watching,the silence became almost oppressive, for Tom had somewhatdescended, and the explosions had been plainly heard by thoseobserving him. But now they ceased!
"His engine's stalled!" cried Garret Jackson.
Mr. Swift heard the words, and looked anxiously up at his son.
"Is he in any danger?" gasped Mr. Damon.
No one answered him. Like some great bird, disabled in mid flight,the monoplane swooped downward. A moment later a hearty shout fromTom reassured them.
"He shut off the engine on purpose," said Mr. Jackson. "He isvol-planing back to earth!"
Nearer and nearer came the BUTTERFLY. It would shoot downward, andthen, as Tom tilted the planes, would rise a bit, losing some of thegreat momentum. In a series of maneuvers like this, the younginventor reached the earth, not far from where his father and theothers stood. Down came the BUTTERFLY, the springs of the wheelframe taking the shock wonderfully well.
"She's all right--regular bird!" cried Tom, in enthusiasm, when themachine had come to a stop after rolling over the ground, and he hadleaped out. "We'll make a good flight to-morrow, Mr. Damon, if theweather holds out this way."
"Good!" cried the eccentric man. "I shall be delighted."
They made the start early the next morning, there being hardly abreath of wind. There was not a trace of nervousness noticeableabout Mr. Damon, as he took his place in the seat beside Tom. Thelad had gone carefully over the entire apparatus, and had seen to itthat, as far as he could tell, it was in perfect running order.
"When will you be back, Tom?" asked his father.
"To-night, perhaps, or to-morrow morning. I don't know just what Mr.Fenwick wants me to do. But if it is anything that requires a longstay, I'll come back, and let you know, and then run down toPhiladelphia again. I may need some of my special tools to workwith. I'll be back to-night perhaps."
"Shall I keep supper for you?" asked Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper.
"I don't know," answered Tom, with a laugh. "Perhaps I'll drop downat Miss Nestor's, and have some apple turnovers," for he had toldthem or the incident of hiring the new cook. "Well," he went on toMr. Damon, "are you all ready?"
"As ready as I ever shall be. Do you think we'll have to do anyvol-planing, Tom?"
"Hard to say, but it's not dangerous when there's no wind. Allright, Garret. Start her off."
The engineer whirled the big wooden, built-up propeller, and wit
h arattle and roar of the motor, effectually drowning any but theloudest shouts, the BUTTERFLY was ready for her flight. Tom let theengine warm up a bit before calling to his friends to let go, andthen, when he had thrown the gasolene lever forward, he shouted agood-by and cried:
"All right! Let go!"
Forward, like a hound from the leash, sprang the little monoplane.It ran perhaps for five hundred feet, and then, with a tilting ofthe wings, to set the air currents against them, it sprang into theair.
"We're off!" cried Mr. Damon, waving his hand to those on the groundbelow.
"Yes, we're off," murmured Tom. "Now for the Quaker City!"
He had mapped out a route for himself the night before, and now,picking out the land-marks, he laid as straight a course as possiblefor Philadelphia.
The sensation of flying along, two thousand feet high, in a machinealmost as frail as a canoe, was not new to Tom. It was, in a degree,to Mr. Damon, for, though the latter had made frequent trips in thelarge airship, this mode of locomotion, as if he was on the back ofsome bird, was much different. Still, after the first surprise, hegot used to it.
"Bless my finger ring!" he exclaimed, "I like it!"
"I thought you would," said Tom, in a shout, and he adjusted the oilfeed to send more lubricant into the cylinders.
The earth stretched out below them, like some vari-colored reliefmap, but they could not stop to admire any particular spot long, forthey were flying fast, and were beyond a scene almost as quickly asthey had a glimpse of it.
"How long will it take us?" yelled Mr. Damon into Tom's ear.
"I hope to do it in three hours," shouted back the young inventor.
"What! Why it takes the train over five hours."
"Yes, I know, but we're going direct, and it's only about twohundred and fifty miles. That's only about eighty an hour. We'redoing seventy-five now, and I haven't let her out yet."
"She goes faster than the RED CLOUD," cried Mr. Damon.
Tom nodded. It was hard work to talk in that rush of air. For anhour they shot along, their speed gradually increasing. Tom calledout the names of the larger places they passed over. He was nowdoing better than eighty an hour as the gage showed. The trip was aglorious one, and the eyes of the young inventor and his friendsparkled in delight as they rushed forward. Two hours passed.
"Going to make it?" fairly howled Mr. Damon.
Tom nodded again.
"Be there in time for dinner," he announced in a shout.
It lacked forty minutes of the three hours when Tom, pointing withone hand down below, while with the other he gripped the lever ofthe rudder, called:
"North Philadelphia!"
"So soon?" gasped Mr. Damon. "Well, we certainly made speed! Whereare you going to land?"
"I don't know," answered the young inventor, "I'll have to pick outthe best place I see. It's no fun landing in a city. No room to runalong, after you're down."
"What's the matter with Franklin Field?" cried Mr. Damon. "Out wherethey play football."
"Good! The very thing!" shouted Tom.
"Mr. Fenwick lives near there," went on Mr. Damon, and Tom noddedcomprehendingly.
They were now over North Philadelphia, and, in a few minutes morewere above the Quaker City itself. They were flying rather low, andas the people in the streets became aware of their presence therewas intense excitement. Tom steered for the big athletic field, andsoon saw it in the distance.
With a suddenness that was startling the motor ceased its terrificracket. The monoplane gave a sickening dip, and Tom had to adjustthe wing tips and rudder quickly to prevent it slewing around at adangerous angle.
"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Damon, "Did you shut it off onpurpose?"
"No!" shouted Tom, "Something's gone wrong!"
"Gone wrong! Bless my overshoes! Is there any danger?"
"We'll have to vol-plane to earth," answered Tom, and there was agrim look on his face. He had never executed this feat with apassenger aboard. He was wondering how the BUTTERFLY would behave.But he would know very soon, for already the tiny monoplane wasshooting rapidly toward the big field, which was now swarming with acurious crowd.