The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  A DASH FOR FREEDOM.

  To Ned's intense relief, the little cortege did not attract muchattention as it passed down the street. Most of the town was at thecircus, attracted, doubtless, by the prospect of a big, free aeroplaneflight.

  At last they reached the circus grounds. The performance had commenced,and the spaces outside the tents in which it was going on were almostdeserted. Only a few canvasmen and hangers-on lounged about. From timeto time a loud blare of music or a shout of applause came from thetent. Over by the main entrance Ned saw Professor Luminetti, stilltinkering with his aeroplane. Some men were helping him. Among them wasthe man with the big moustache, who had addressed Ned so roughly whenhe pointed out the defective link.

  "There, professor," he was exclaiming, as the constable came up,"that's done. I guess everything is all right now for the nightperformance."

  "It all came from not paying attention to what that young chap said,"put in one of them.

  "Yes, the professor thought he knew it all," put in another.

  "Hullo! There's the young chap now," said the black-moustached man, whowas the manager of the show. "Say, young feller, you're all right. Anytime you want a----"

  He was about to shake Ned by the hand, when the constable interposed.

  "You the manager of this sheebang?"

  "Yes. What of it?"

  "Wa-al, I'm ther constable. Whar's that pickpocket yer telephonedabout?"

  "Right inside the sideshow tent. We put him in there under the guard oftwo canvasmen."

  "All right. I'll come and git him. Two uv you boys guard the prisonerhere while I'm gone."

  He hastened off. Ned felt his face burn as some of the men who hadbeen clustered about Professor Luminetti gazed curiously at him. Theword "prisoner" had attracted their attention.

  The professor was too busy with his machine to pay any attention. Hewas starting up the engine to test it. The motor burred wildly andemitted flashes of flame and blue smoke. Suddenly he looked around.

  "Say, young feller," he said to Ned, "if you know so much aboutaeroplanes, just tell me what ails this motor?"

  Ned looked at his two guardians. They, perhaps curious to see if thelad really knew anything about air-craft, nodded permission. After all,they argued to themselves, there was no chance for the lad to escape.Ned, forgetting his troubles for a time in his joy at again being ableto "fuss" over an aeroplane, bent over the refractory engine.

  "The trouble's in one of the footpedals," he announced before long.

  "Have to climb into the seat to fix it?" asked Luminetti.

  "Reckon so."

  Ned looked at his guardians. They nodded.

  "Don't fly away," cried one of them jokingly, as Ned seated himself,grasped the levers and placed his foot on the pedals to test themechanism.

  "It would be a good joke if----"

  Professor Luminetti, standing by the machine, was suddenly brushed offhis feet and rolled over on the sward.

  "Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r!"

  A terrific whirring, like the voice of a multitude of locusts, filledthe air.

  Something huge and winged and powerful flashed by the amazed deputies,and launched itself into the air. Before they recovered their wits, itwas out of reach.

  "It's the aeroplane! He's stolen my aeroplane!" screamed ProfessorLuminetti.

  "Hi! Come back!" yelled the deputies.

  But so swiftly had the aeroplane shot into space that Ned was alreadyout of ear-shot.

  Hearing the babel of excited sounds, the constable came dashing fromthe tent. In the excitement, he let go of the pickpocket's collar, andthat miscreant at once darted off.

  "Get him! Bring him back!" shouted the arm of the Dundertown law.

  "What do you think we are--a couple of birds?" demanded his deputies."Get him yourself!"

  The constable drew out his revolver and began firing into the air. Hemight as well have fired at the moon as at Ned. The aeroplane dwindledswiftly to a winged blot, then to a speck, and, finally, vanishedaltogether.

  "I'll swear out a warrant for him!" shouted the manager.

  "Well, don't do any more swearing, then," warned the constable, "erI'll arrest you fer usin' profane langwidge. I've lost two prisoners,an' I've got ter lock up somebody."

  Luckily, at that moment, a small boy was captured as he was creepingunder the canvas. In the act of giving him a sound spanking, theirate group left behind found some salve for their wounded feelings.Luminetti raved and tore his hair. The manager promised to wreak direvengeance on Ned as soon as he got hold of him. As for the populace,when the story leaked out, some of them, among these being Sam, were sounfeeling as to laugh heartily. As for the quartermaster, he at onceset about to report the constable to all the authorities in the UnitedStates, from the president down.

  In the meantime, what of Ned?

  If any of our readers imagine that he took the aeroplane on purpose,they are mistaken. What seemed like a cleverly executed plan of escapewas, in reality, the result of an accident, pure and simple, but afortunate one, as it proved.

  When Ned had placed his foot on the starting pedal, to his astonishmentthe bit of machinery refused to budge. He pressed harder, and,suddenly something snapped. The next instant Ned felt himself beinghurtled forward over the ground.

  To prevent the aeroplane plunging into a tent or wagon and beingwrecked, he had resorted to the only mode of procedure possible. He hadset the rising planes.

  Instantly the aeroplane responded. Behind him Ned could hear shouts andcries, and guessed that those he had left behind were imagining he wasattempting to escape.

  "If I land I'll have a hard job convincing them I wasn't," said Ned tohimself.

  But nevertheless, the lad tried with all his might to check theaeroplane's flight. But whatever had broken rendered this impossible.Try as he would, he could not stop the engine. His only safety,therefore, lay in keeping aloft. As the aeroplane rushed on throughspace, it gathered speed instead of diminishing the fury of its course.

  It was all Ned could do to cling to the seat and control the franticbuckings and plungings of his aerial steed. The fact that thoughsimilar to the one he used, he was unfamiliar with the particularaeroplane in which he found himself, complicated his difficulties.

  "I guess the only thing to do is to keep on till the gasolene givesout," he thought, after his twentieth attempt to check his runawayengine. "Reminds me of Don Quixote's ride with Sancho Panza to thepalace of the magician in cloudland," was the whimsical thought thatoccurred to him. "Poor old Herc! It's not very complimentary to him tocompare him to Sancho, but I wish he was here with me."

  The fuel tank of the aeroplane must have been well filled, for theengine ran just as strongly at the end of an hour of aerial travelingas it had at the beginning of the trip.

  "I'd turn round if I dared," thought Ned; "but I can't check the speedof the thing, and it would be suicidal to try to switch my coursewhile going at this speed."

  Ned's plight may be compared to that of a lad on a runaway bicycle ona steep hill. He did not dare turn for fear of disaster, and yet hedidn't quite know what would happen if he kept on. However, he didn'thave to be scared of colliding with a wagon!

  Suddenly, to Ned's huge joy, the engine showed signs of slackeningspeed. He gently manipulated a lever, and found that he had partialcontrol of the machine now. This being so, he decided to land as soonas practicable. From a clump of trees some distance ahead, the whitespire of a church told him of a village. To his left hand lay the sea.Ned gazed at it longingly, as he dropped nearer and nearer to theground.

  He landed at the edge of a meadow adjoining a building which wasoccupied by the village post-office and telegraph office. A sign on ahouse across the way made his heart leap:

  "Blackhaven Hotel."

  Chance had actually brought him within close range of the fleet. Itseemed too good to be true. But a crowd of villagers, who came rushingto inspect the visitor from cloudland, soon p
ut all other thoughts butthe safety of his machine out of his mind. If he had not watched itcarefully, there seemed to be danger of its being ripped to bits bysouvenir hunters.

  A brief inspection showed Ned that a broken tension-spring had causedthe runaway. It was soon adjusted. Then he peeped into the gasolenetank. It was almost empty.

  "They sell gasolene in ther store there, mister," said a bright lad."Gasolene gigs come through here onct in a while."

  "When they's lost," struck in another lad.

  This was good news to Ned. Leaving the lads to guard the machine, heentered the post-office. The postmaster imperturbably sold him fivegallons of gasolene. Ned recollected that he couldn't pay for it. But,unfortunately, this did not occur to him till he had emptied it intothe tank.

  Hardly had he done so, and was starting back to the store withexplanations, when the postmaster, who was also telegraph operator,appeared in the doorway of his emporium. He was waving a yellowtelegram.

  "Hold that feller, one of yer!" he shouted. "That thar's a stolensky-buggy, and he's no better than a thief!"

  A dozen men started forward to lay hands on Ned.

  But a sudden determination had come to the lad. He was within strikingdistance of the fleet. It was his duty to warn the officers of theperil that menaced their vessels.

  A rough hand seized his arm. Ned flung it off. At the same instant hisfists drove full at a big fellow--the village blacksmith--who tried tobar his path, swinging a heavy hammer.

  "Stand clear!" shouted Ned, as he sprang into the seat of hismachine--or rather Professor Luminetti's--"this machine isn'tstolen--_it's borrowed on Uncle Sam's service_!"

  The next instant the machine skyrocketed upward, leaving behind it atrail of smoke, and sensation that furnished talk for the village ofBlackhaven for more than a year.