The two men who stood upon the hill, and Peter Ruff, who lay upon hisstomach behind a huge boulder, looked upon a new thing.
Far down in the valley from out of a black shed--the only sign of man'shandiwork for many miles--it came--something grey at first, movingslowly as though being pushed down a slight incline, then afloat in theair, gathering speed--something between a torpedo with wings and agreat prehistoric insect. Now and then it described strange circles, butmostly it came towards them as swift and as true as an arrow shot from abow. The two men looked at one another--the shorter, to whose cheeks theCumberland winds had brought no trace of colour, gave vent to a hoarseexclamation.
"He's done it!" he growled.
"Wait!" the other answered.
Over their heads the thing wheeled, and seemed to stand still in theair. The beating of the engine was so faint that Peter Ruff from behindthe boulder, could hear all that was said. A man leaned out from hisseat--a man with wan cheeks but blazing eyes.
"Listen," he said. "Take your glasses. There--due north--can you see asteeple?"
The men turned their field glasses in the direction toward which theother pointed. "Yes!" they answered. "It is sixteen miles, as the crowflies, to Barnham Church--thirty-two miles there and back. Wait!"
He swung round, dived till he seemed about to touch the hillside, thensoared upwards and straight away. Peter Ruff took out his watch. Theother two men gazed with fascinated eyes after the disappearing speck.
"If he does it--" the shorter one muttered.
"He will do it!" the other answered.
He was back again before their eyes were weary of watching. Peter Ruff,from behind the boulder, closed his watch. Thirty-two miles in less thanhalf an hour! The youth leaned from his seat.
"Is it enough?" he asked, hoarsely.
"It is enough!" the two men answered together. "We will come down."
The youth touched a lever and the machine glided down towards thevalley, falling all the while with the effortless grace a parachute. Theshed from which his machine had issued was midway down a slope, witha short length of rails which ran, apparently, through it. The machineseemed to hover for several moments above the building, then descendedslowly on to the rails and disappeared in the shed. The two men werealready half-way down the hill. Peter Ruff rose from behind the boulder,stretched himself with a sense of immense relief, and lit a pipe. Asyet he dared not descend. He simply changed his hiding place for a spotwhich enabled him to command a view of the handful of cottages at theback of the hill. He had plenty to think about. It was a wonderfulthing--this--which he had seen!
The youth, meanwhile, was drinking deep of the poisonous cup. He walkedbetween the two men--his cheeks were flushed, his eyes on fire.
"If all the world to-day had seen what we have seen," the older man wassaying, "there would be no more talk of Wilbur Wrights or Farmans. Thosemen are babies, playing with their toys."
"Mine is the ideal principle," the youth declared. "No one else hasthought of it, no one else has made use of it. Yet all the time I amafraid--it is so simple."
"Sell quick, then," the fair-headed man advised. "By to-morrow night Ican promise you fifty thousand pounds."
The youth stopped. He drew a deep breath.
"I shall sell," he declared. "I need money. I want to live. Fiftythousand pounds is enough. Eleven weary months I have slept and toiledthere in the shed."
"It is finished," the older man declared. "To-night you shall come withus to London. To-morrow night your pockets shall be full of gold. Itwill be a change for you."
The youth sobbed.
"God knows it will," he muttered. "I haven't two shillings in the world,and I owe for my last petrol."
The two men laughed heartily. The elder took a little bundle of notesfrom his pocket and handed them to the boy.
"Come," he said, "not for another moment shall you feel as poor asthat. Money will have no value for you in the future. The fifty thousandpounds will only be a start. After that, you will get royalties. If Ihad it, I would give you a quarter of a million now for your plans; Iknow that I can get you more."
The youth laughed hysterically. They entered the tiny inn and drankhome-made wine--the best they could get. Then a great car drew upoutside, and the older--the clean-shaven man, who looked like anAmerican--hurried out, and dragging a hamper from beneath the seatreturned with a gold-foiled bottle in his hand.
"Come," he said, "a toast! We have one bottle left--one bottle of thebest!"
"Champagne!" the youth cried eagerly, holding out his hand.
"The only wine for the conquerors," the other declared, pouring it outinto the thick tumblers. "Drink, all of you, to the Franklin FlyingMachine, to the millions she will earn--to to-morrow night!"
The youth drained his glass, watched it replenished, and drained itagain. Then they went out to the car.
"There is one thing yet to be done," he said. "Wait here for me."
They waited whilst he climbed up toward the shed. The two men watchedhim. A little group of rustics stood open-mouthed around the great car.Then there was a little shout. From above their heads came the sound ofa great explosion--red flames were leaping up from that black barn tothe sky. The two men looked at one another. They rushed to the hill andmet the youth descending.
"What the--"
He stopped them.
"I dared not leave it here," he explained. "It would have been madness.I am perfectly certain that I have been watched during the last fewdays. I can build another in a week. I have the plans in my pocket forevery part."
The older man wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
"You are sure--that you have the plans?" he asked.
The youth struck himself on the chest.
"They are here," he answered, "every one of them!"
"Perhaps you are right, then," the other man answered. "It gave me aturn, though. You are sure that you can make it again in the time yousay?"
"Of course!" the youth answered, impatiently. "Besides, the thing is sosimple. It speaks for itself."
They climbed into the car, and in a few minutes were rushing awaysouthwards.
"To-morrow night--to-morrow night it all begins!" the youth continued."I must start with ready-made clothes. I'll get the best I can, eat thebest I can, drink wine, go to the music halls. To-morrow night."
His speech ended in a wail--a strange, half-stifled cry which rang outwith a chill, ghostly sound upon the black silence. His face was coveredwith a wet towel, a ghastly odor was in his nostrils, his lips refusedto utter any further sound. He lay back among the cushions, senseless.The car slowed down.
"Get the papers, quick!" the elder man muttered, opening the youth'scoat. "Here they are! Catch hold, Dick! My God! What's that?"
He shook from head to foot. The little fair man looked at him withcontempt.
"A sheep bell on the moor," he said. "Are you sure you have everything?"
"Yes!" the other muttered.
They both stood up and raised the prostrate form between them. Belowthem were the black waters of the lake.
"Over with him!" the younger said. "Quick!"
Once more his companion shrank away.
"Listen!" he muttered, hoarsely.
They both held their breaths. From somewhere along the road behind camea faint sound like the beating of an engine.
"It's a car!" the elder man exclaimed. "Quick! Over with him!"
They lifted the body of the boy, whose lips were white and speechlessnow, and threw him into the water. With a great splash he disappeared.They watched for a moment. Only the ripples flowed away from the placewhere he had sunk. They jumped back to their seats.
"There's something close behind," the older man muttered. "Get on! Fast!Fast!"
The younger man hesitated.
"Perhaps," he said slowly, "it would be better to wait and see who it iscoming up behind. Our young friend there is safe. The current has him,and the tarn is bottomless."
Th
ere was a moment's indecision--a moment which was to count for muchin the lives of three men. Then the elder one's counsels prevailed. Theycrept away down the hill, smoothly and noiselessly. Behind them, thefaint throbbing grew less and less distinct. Soon they heard it no more.They drove into the dawn and through the long day.