CHAPTER XI
A MID-AIR MIRACLE
Jerry had a hard time next morning explaining just why he couldn't goalong on the proposed fishing trip. Tod was inclined to accept hisexcuses at face value, but Dave and Frank could not understand whyJerry should so suddenly about-face in his notions. Just the day beforehe had talked as if he was prepared to stay a week. But his promise ofa speedy return--with his own fishing tackle--finally silenced theirgrumblings, especially when he agreed to make their peace with twomothers who would be asking some pretty hard questions on their ownreturn.
But Jerry was not to get away without taking part in an incident thatalmost provided a disagreeable end for the adventure. It was while theywere all at breakfast. Tod had been giving a glorious account of thethrilling sport he had enjoyed on his last trip to the bass lake hepromised to guide them to. Suddenly, in the midst of a sentence, hestopped dead. His jaw dropped. He positively gasped.
"_There she is!_"
Then his face became blank. After a hasty glance about the circle ofastonished faces, he went on with his fish story. But he was notallowed to go far.
It was Phil, taking a cousin's rights, who put the sharp question.
"Is your mind wandering, or what? 'There she is!' Who is _she_--andwhere? We don't want to hear your old fish yarn anyway."
"I guess he's still thinking of that island girl," suggested Jerry,realizing that Tod had put himself into some kind of a hole, andwishing to help his chum out. But Phil was not to be so easilysatisfied.
"There's something mighty queer about this whole proposition. That yarnof yours last night, Jerry, didn't sit very easy on my pillow, and itdoesn't rest very easy on my breakfast, either. What's the idea? Whatyou trying to hide, you two?"
"Nothing," said Tod, and Jerry repeated the word.
"Nothing! You make me tired. Now, out with it. I swam across thatcreek last night in my clothes on account of you, and I figure you'vegot a right to tell me why."
"And I figure you've got a right to believe me when I told you why lastnight."
"You didn't. You left it to Jerry to cook up a story that would keep usfrom asking questions. And now you yell out, 'There she is!' and sitthere gaping at the sky, with your mouth wide open as if you expected acrow to lay an egg on your tongue. What does it all mean?"
"It means I'm still capable of taking care of my own business!" snappedTod.
"Oh--very well. After this I'll let you."
It was an uncomfortable group that sat about the rest of the breakfast,even after Tod had begged his cousin's pardon for ungrateful loss oftemper, and Phil had said that it was "all right."
Jerry was afraid for awhile that the fishing trip would be called off,but in the boisterous horseplay that went with the washing of thescanty dishes, all differences were forgotten, especially when Phil,scuffling in friendly fashion, put Tod down on his back and pulled thatsquirming wrestler's nose till he shouted "Enough!"
It was with feelings of mingled amusement and relief that Jerry watchedthe noisy crowd pile into the two boats, the Scout boat and the _BigFour_, and paddle downstream, soon to be lost sight of behind LostIsland. His satisfaction was somewhat lessened by the fact that Philhad felt it necessary that one of their number remain behind to standguard over the camp, but Jerry was sure that he would have no greattrouble in keeping away from Frank Willis, trusting that "Budge" wouldlive up to his reputation.
He began well, for hardly was the camp deserted before he went back tohis blankets. "Now some folks like fishing," he yawned, "and I do toowhen the fish don't bite too fast; but I like sleep. It's good for whatails you, and it's good if nothing ails you. Take it in regular dosesor between meals--it always straightens you out."
Jerry did not argue with him. A few minutes later his regular breathingtold the world at large and Jerry in particular that so far as oneBudge was concerned the coast was clear.
As a matter of fact, Jerry did not feel that there would be anything tosee until late in the afternoon at best. The conversation between Mr.Fulton and the man Billings had seemed to indicate that nothing out ofthe ordinary was to happen that day, but Mr. Fulton's parting words toTod gave Jerry hope. "This is the day!" he had said.
At any rate, he slipped out of camp and scouted about for a comfortablespot in which to keep an eye on Lost Island. But after he had sat therea half hour, he began to have twinges of the same disease thatafflicted Budge and he saw that it would be necessary for him to moveabout a bit in order to stay awake. He regretted having left the campwithout a fishing pole; that would at least give him something to do topass the time away. With something like that in mind he started backtoward the shady place where he had left Budge snoozing.
But as the walk started his blood circulating again, and his brainbecame active once more, he had a new idea. "Old Tod's a sly fox," hesaid to himself. "He's not going to be among the missing when the funis on. He's going to take them down to his bass lake, and then he'sgoing to slip away. He'll have to come back by land, so he'll probablytake them to Last Shot Lake. It'll take them an hour to get there, buthe can come back afoot in half that time if he's in a hurry--and Iguess he is. He most likely will hang around half an hour before hethinks it's safe to make his getaway. That's two hours all told. Insome fifteen or twenty minutes he ought to come skulking along throughthe woods.
"There's that hill yonder--it ought to make a good spy-post. LittleJerry bids these parts a fond adieu."
Something like a strong quarter of a mile down the river, and perhapsthat much inland, stood a lonesome hill, almost bare of trees save aclump of perhaps a dozen on the very summit. It was an ideal hidingplace. Leaving the road after cutting through the river timber andfollowing it a few hundred yards, he plunged into a dense growth ofscrub oak and hazel brush that extended almost to the base of his hill.
He came to one bare spot, perhaps an acre in extent, and was about toleave the shelter of the brush for the comparatively easy going of theweedy grass, when, almost opposite him, he saw a figure emerge from thetrees.
At first he thought it was Tod, and he chuckled to himself as hethought how quickly his guess had been proved true. But when a secondstepped out close behind the first, Jerry realized that neither one washis friend, even before he noticed that both were carrying rifles.
A pair of hunters, no doubt, Jerry surmised, although he wondered idlywhat they would be hunting at this season of the year. Rabbits were"wormy" and the law prohibited the shooting of almost everything else.But "City hunters," Jerry derided, "from their clothes. They thinkbluejays and crows are good sport."
That the hunters were looking for birds was evident, for they kepttheir eyes turned toward the tree-tops. Thus it was that they did notsee Jerry crouching in the brush a scant dozen feet from where theybroke into the woods again. He was near enough to overhear themperfectly, but not a word could he understand, for they were talkingvery earnestly together in some outlandish tongue that, as Jerry said,made him seasick to try to follow. But as they talked they pointedexcitedly, first toward the sky and then straight ahead, and that partof their conversation was perfectly understandable to the boy.
A sudden wild thought entered his mind. Here were two hunters out inthe woods at a time when no real sportsmen carried anything but rodsand landing nets. The mystery of their purpose reminded him of anothermystery, and immediately his mind connected the two, even before henoticed the constant recurrence of a word that sounded much as aforeigner would pronounce "Lost Island." Jerry realized, even as thethought passed through his mind, that it was the wildest kind of guess,but it was enough to set him stealthily picking his way through thebrush in the wake of the two.
He saw, just in time to avoid running smack into them, that just beforethey reached the road, although now out of the heavier woods, they hadstopped and were talking together more excitedly than ever. Somethinghad happened, Jerry realized at once, but he could not puzzle out whatit was, although he looked and listened as intently as they seemed tobe doi
ng. He was about to give it up in disgust, when he becameconscious of a queer droning noise, as of a swarm of bees, or a distantthreshing machine. Strangely, the sound did not seem to be coming fromthe woods or fields about him, but from the blank sky itself.
Then he remembered how Tod had acted at breakfast--how he too, likethese men, had been apparently staring into space. Jerry read thenewspapers; he was an eager student of one of the scientific magazines;he had sat in Mr. Fulton's basement workshop and listened to many adiscussion of the latest wonders of invention. But even then he did notat once realize that the sound he had been hearing really came from thesky, and that the purring noise was the whir of the propellers of anaeroplane.
He looked for a full minute at the soaring speck against the blue skybefore he exclaimed aloud. "I'll be darned--an airship!"
Fortunately, the two men were too engaged to pay any attention tosounds right beside them. But Jerry glanced hastily in their directionas he dropped back into the shelter of a big clump of elderberry. Thenhe looked again. There could be no doubt the two were following theflight of the aeroplane. They stepped off a few feet to the right andJerry could see only their shoulders and heads above the bushes. He wascurious to see better what they were doing, but he dared not cross theopen ground between. So instead he turned his attention again to thesoaring man-bird.
It was coming closer. It swung down lower and circled in over LostIsland, barely a hundred feet above the tree-tops. A sudden cry fromthe two men drew his eager eyes away from the approaching aircraft, buthe looked back just in time to witness a wonderful sight.
Motionless, poised like a soaring hawk, the aeroplane, its propellerflashing in the sunlight, hung over Lost Island. For fully six secondsit remained there, not moving an inch. Suddenly it lurched, droppedhalf the distance to the trees, the yellow planes snapping likegun-shots. It looked as if it would be wrecked, and Jerry startedforward as if to go to the rescue. In the half instant he had lookedaway, the machine had righted and purring like an elephant-size pussy,was darting out over the water. A cheer sounded faintly from LostIsland; Jerry wanted to cheer himself.
Now he heard another kind of sound, but this time there was no doubt inhis mind as to its source. There could be no mistaking the put-put-putof a single cylinder motor boat. It was coming up Plum Run, probablyfrom the "city"--Chester. He could see it swinging around into thechannel from behind Lost Island. It crept close along shore, and with afinal "put!" came to a stop just where the boat had landed the nightbefore with Mr. Fulton. Three men crowded forward and jumped to shore;one of them, Jerry could have sworn, was Mr. Fulton himself.
As if the pilot of the aeroplane had been waiting for their coming hecircled back toward the island. He had climbed far into the blue, butcame down a steep slant that brought him within two hundred feet ofearth almost before one could gather his wits to measure the terrificdrop. Out across Plum Run he swept in a wide circle, and Jerry saw thatthe aeroplane would pass almost directly overhead.
He had forgotten all about the two men by this time, so keen was hisinterest in the daring aviator. He certainly had nerve, to go on withhis flight after the accident that had so nearly ended his career onlya minute back.
And then Jerry was treated to a sight that made him rub his eyes inamazement. The accident was repeated--it had been no accident. Now onlya hundred feet up, directly above him, the big machine seemed to quiverwith a sudden increase or change of power. A rasping, ear-rackingsound--a spurt of blue vapor--and the aeroplane did what no otherflying machine had ever done before; it stopped stock-still in mid-air.
Jerry could see every detail of the big machine, its glistening canvas,its polished aluminum motor and taut wires and braces. He could evensee the pilot, leaning far over to one side, a smile of satisfaction onhis face. Jerry could hardly resist shouting a word of greeting to thebold aeronaut.
He did shout, but it was a cry of horror, for all in a moment, a streakof flame seemed to leap out of the motor, there was a fearful hiss ofescaping gas, a report that fairly shook the tree-tops, and with planescrumpling under the tremendous pressure of the air rushing past as itfell, the aeroplane plunged to earth. Yet, even in his intenseexcitement, Jerry, as he raced to where the flaming machine had fallen,caught at a fleeting impression: There had been two explosions, and thefirst seemed to come from close beside him.
The aeroplane had come to earth a good hundred yards away, and Jerrymade all speed in that direction. He passed the spot where the two menhad been standing--they were still there, and seemed in no hurry to goto the rescue. One of them, Jerry noticed as he rushed by, shouting"Quick!" had just thrown his gun under his arm, but the action did notimpress the boy at the time as having any significance.
He raced on, the flaming wreck now in sight. He fairly flew through thelast dense thicket and jumped out, just in time to collide with anotherhurrying figure. When the two picked themselves up, Jerry saw that itwas Tod.
"Hurry, Jerry," he cried. "I'm afraid that poor Billings is killed!"