Red Dynamite

  CHAPTER XVIII TEN GALLONS OF AIR

  Johnny's first visit on the following morning was at the old mill. Hefound Donald Day busy as usual, compressing liquid air.

  "Glad to see you, Johnny," were his welcoming words.

  "Thanks," Johnny grinned. "Had a bolt of lightning from the blue skyyet?"

  "Not yet, Johnny, but soon," Donald smiled a mysterious smile.

  "How's the chance of helping you?"

  "Fine, Johnny, when the time comes. Just now though, there's somethingelse you might do."

  "What's that?" Johnny was ready for anything.

  "Got something for the aviator down there in the valley. Want to takeit?"

  "Sure do!" Johnny's reply was full of enthusiasm. "He helped us take yourgrandfather to the hospital. Never forget that."

  "We sure won't, Johnny. Just now he wants some liquid air. This is thetenth order I have received from him. He wants ten gallons. It's ready,so if you'll take it down, you'll be doing me a great favor."

  "Liquid air," said Johnny. "What does he want with liquid air?"

  "Don't know. Going to peddle it, like as not. Good profit in it. And anairplane's the thing for carrying it. Gets it there quick so there'slittle loss by evaporation."

  "Mebby that's it," Johnny agreed. Down deep in his mind, however, he didnot agree. He had quite another notion, a very startling notion it wastoo.

  "More foot-pounds of energy," he muttered as he went on his way. "Wonderif that could be true."

  "Good!" exclaimed the young aviator, as, an hour later, Johnny appearedwith a two wheel cartload of liquid air. "I'm just wanting that."

  "So you're really going to use it?" Johnny grinned. "I thought so."

  "Going to use it," the man stared at him. "Sure I am! Why not?"

  "Donald thought you might be going to peddle it."

  "Not I," the aviator laughed. "I'll be using a lot of it. Want to stayand watch me?"

  "Sure I do!"

  Ten minutes later, Johnny found himself looking at the strangest airplanemotor he or anyone else had even seen.

  "And does it really use liquid air for fuel?" he asked.

  "Sure it does!" The aviator had reached for a small jug of liquid air."Watch and see. Liquid air and carbon, that's what she eats.

  "You put the liquid air in here and the carbon here. The mechanism mixesit and throws it into the combustion chambers in just the right quantity.

  "I've had a tough time," he straightened up. "Liquid air was so cold itfroze up all my lubricants. But I've solved that. Got two sets offeeders. One set is being thawed out by the exhaust while the other'sworking. Going to be great now. Stick around until I get the motor hookedup and we'll take a ride on air--liquid air." He laughed a joyous laugh.

  "But say!" His voice changed. "Tell that boy up at the mill that hisgrandfather is much better. Got that word on my short wave wireless.He'll be coming home soon. Fine thing. Great old man!"

  "Never was any finer," Johnny said huskily. "He's done a lot for thesepeople. He helped them to make a living. On Sunday he talked to them likea father. He told the ones who have been doing a lot of fighting--"

  "Feud fighters?"

  "Yes, feuds. He told them they couldn't do it and be good citizens."

  "Right too, exactly right." The aviator reached for a pair of pliers.

  "Now!" his tone changed. "Just give me a lift shoving this thing intoplace and we'll be away before you know it."

  A half hour later the airplane rose above the meadow and soared away. Itwas a trial flight and the stout little ship was handled with greatestcare. They climbed far up into the blue sky but never was the narrowmeadow out of their sight. Johnny knew enough about flying to realizethat from that height, even though their motor went dead, they could gogliding down to a safe landing.

  "Working perfectly," he shouted in the pilot's ear.

  Just then, as if to give the boy a shock, the motor let out a suddenpop-pop-pop. The aviator, after touching a lever, tapped his head withhis knuckles as much as to say:

  "Knock on wood."

  A half hour later they came soaring back to earth. "She's working." Thepilot heaved a sigh of content. "Two or three more days and I'll be readyto cross the continent. Tell that boy at the mill to freeze me up a goodlot of liquid air."

  "All right, I'll tell him," Johnny agreed. "It's--it's wonderful!" hecried. "Riding through the air with only air and carbon for fuel. Is itpractical, a truly great thing? Will people everywhere be using liquidair for airplane fuel before long?"

  "No-o," the pilot replied slowly. "I'm afraid not. Fuel that costs two orthree dollars a gallon is hardly practical. Besides, there may be otherdrawbacks that haven't appeared yet. How will the steel parts standfreezing and thawing? Things like that.

  "I'm afraid it's just a sort of sporting proposition," he added. "Anyway,I'm just sort of playing at it.

  "There's this much about it though," the drawl left his voice. "On a verylong trip it would be wonderful, this liquid air fuel! It has more powerper pound than any fuel you can carry. And that means more miles. Ishouldn't wonder," he grinned broadly, "but that if they get thisstratosphere flying worked out perfectly, some fellow will one of thesedays load his motor with liquid air and circle the globe in a non-stopflight. I--I'll take you on a regular trip some of these days."

  "But not around the world," Johnny chuckled.

  "No. Not quite yet."

  Truth was, this "regular trip" was to be taken much sooner than theyimagined, and for a very important reason.

  "Guess I better get going," Johnny said.

  "All right. Don't forget to tell that boy about his grandfather."

  Johnny did not forget. He hurried away at once to break the good news.

  "Thanks," Donald smiled his gratitude when the message had beendelivered. "That takes a load off my shoulders. Now, perhaps I can get mymind on other things."

  "What things?"

  "Old Uncle Mose and Blinkey Bill come first," Donald's brow wrinkled."Blinkey Bill claims he owns the coal rights on Uncle Mose's land. He'sstopped him mining coal there. Old tight wad! That's making things hardfor Uncle Mose. No coal to mine. Poor old Mose and his wife will starve.Think of it, the oldest couple in the mountains! You'd think--"

  "There's nothing fair about it," Johnny broke in. "I doubt if BlinkeyBill owns the coal rights on that land. If he does, his father got it bysome sharper methods that Uncle Mose didn't understand. And Uncle Mosedidn't get a thing for it, you can be sure of that."

  "Thing is," Donald turned to Johnny, "you and Ballard have got to playyour part, sort of work up the psychology, my professor would say. Thisevening," his voice dropped, "just before dark, you boys just happen byBlinkey Bill's house and stop to talk. He'll say:

  "'Jest come up and set a while and rest yourself,' he always does. So youjust go up and set." He laughed a low laugh.

  "And while you set," he went on, "you start talking about Uncle Mose,what a hard time he has, how old he is and how wicked it would be if anyone would take a mean advantage of him. Just get Blinkey Bill to feelingabout as low down as the hind leg of a glow worm.

  "Then just casually," he took a long breath, "just slow like, as if itsort of occurred to you, say something about how deadly lightning can be,especially when it comes out of a clear sky.

  "The sky's going to be real clear tonight," he added as if it were anafterthought.

  "Yes," Johnny agreed, guessing he knew what would happen. "It's going tobe uncommonly clear."

  Sometime later, an hour after darkness had fallen, Johnny and Ballardfound themselves seated on hickory-bottomed chairs on Blinkey Bill'sporch. They had been there for some time and had talked considerable,especially about poor Uncle Mose. Blinkey Bill had listened and as helistened, had appeared to shrink deeper and deeper into his chair. When,however, Johnny said quite suddenly:

  "It sure is queer about lightning--the kind that comes out of a clearsky
!" Blinkey Bill sat up quite suddenly.

  "What's that you all are a sayin'?" he demanded.

  "I said it's queer about lightning out of a clear sky."

  "I don't believe there ever was any," Ballard put in.

  "Sure there were!" Blinkey Bill's eyes were popping. "I saw hit my ownself. Knocked me down. Might nigh kilt me, it did. I--"

  He broke short off. His eyes shone like stars as he stared at the crestof the mountain, for there, sharp and distinct against a clear, blacknight sky, a flash of light went zig-zagging away. It was followed tenseconds later by a low, rumbling roar.

  "Lightnin'! Lightnin' out of a clear sky!" The look on Blinkey Bill'sface at that moment was a terrible thing to see.

  "It does sort of seem like lightning," Johnny said quietly.

  "Seem like!" Ballard had not been let into the entire secret. "It ISlightning!"

  "Shore! Shore hit's lightnin'!" Blinkey Bill was trembling like acottonwood leaf in a high wind.

  Once more there came the zig-zag flash across the sky. This time the roarthat followed was fairly deafening.

  "Hit's judgment!" Blinkey Bill mumbled. "Judgment of the Lord almighty!"

  "What you all been a doin'?" Ballard asked, dropping into native speech.

  "Nothin'. Not nary a thing! I tell you nary a thing!" Blinkey Bill fairlyscreamed these words.

  "How about Uncle Mose and his coal mine?" Johnny suggested softly.

  "That no-count old--" Blinkey Bill broke off. Mouth open, eyes staring,he once again took in that terrifying spectacle that, so far as he knew,was a special act of God, a bolt from the blue.

  "Tell you the truth," he was fairly whimpering now. "Fact is I ain't forsartin' sure my Pappy bought in them coal rights."

  "Then," suggested Johnny, "you better let Uncle Mose mine his coal."

  "I reckon as how I orter do that," Blinkey Bill agreed.

  "Wait. I'll write it out." Johnny drew pencil and paper from his pocketand pretended to write. Truth was he and Donald had carefully preparedthe release on Uncle Mose's coal rights hours before.

  "There," he exclaimed at last. "You sign right there."

  "Now wait a leetle," Blinkey Bill began to hedge. "I ain't plumb sure fersartin that--"

  Just then the most dazzling flash of all zig-zagged its way across theblue-black sky. It was followed at once by a terrific roar.

  "Here! Here!" Blinkey Bill's voice trembled so he could scarcely speak."Here! Gimme that air paper. Hit's proper to sign hit, plumb proper."

  So the paper was signed. The boys departed and old Uncle Mose's coal minewas saved for all time.