Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE GAME BEGINS

  The sun was not up earlier next morning than Jerry Ring. However, hewaited till after breakfast before going over to rouse Mr. Fulton, Whowould, he knew, sleep later after his strenuous night's work. He spentthe time in an impatient arrangement and rearrangement of his fishingtackle, for he had a feeling in his bones that this visit to LostIsland might be more than a one-day affair.

  Mrs. Ring finally appeared on the scene, to tease him over his earlyrising. "I don't need to look for the fishing tackle when you get upahead of me; I know it's there."

  But Jerry only grinned. His mother was a good pal, who never spoiledany of his fun without having a mighty good reason. Now he saw hersetting about fixing up a substantial lunch, and he knew that therewould be no coaxing necessary to gain her consent to his trip. Heslipped up behind her unawares and kissed her smackingly on the back ofthe neck--perhaps that was one reason she was such a good pal.

  Breakfast over, Jerry caught up his pole and tackle box and hustleddown the street. The Fulton house looked silent and deserted, hethought, as he reached up to push the secret button. The loud b-r-r-rechoed hollowly through the big house; Jerry sat down on the step toawait the opening of the door, for he figured Mr. Fulton would be slowin waking up. But the minute he had allowed stretched into two, so hereached up and gave the button another vigorous dig. Still there was noresponse. Puzzled, he held the button down for fully a minute, the bellmaking enough racket to wake the dead. Vaguely alarmed, Jerry waited.No one came. Putting his mouth to the keyhole, he shouted: "Mr.Fulton--wake up--it's Jerry!"

  Then he put his ear against the door and listened for the footsteps hewas sure would respond to his call. Silence profound. Again he shoutedand listened. And then came a response that set him frantically tuggingat the door--his name called, faintly, as if from a great distance.

  But the door did not yield. Jerry bethought himself of a locklesswindow off the back porch roof, which he and Tod had used more thanonce in time of need. He quickly shinned up the post and swung himselfup by means of the tin gutter. In through the window, through the longhall and down the stairway he plunged, instinct taking him toward Mr.Fulton's bedroom-study. The door stood ajar. He pushed it open andlooked in. A fearful sight met his eyes.

  On the bed, where he lay half undressed on top of the covers, was Mr.Fulton, blood streaming down his battered face. "What has happened?"gasped Jerry, seeing that the man's eyes were open. But there was noanswer, and he saw that Mr. Fulton was too dazed to give any account ofthe events that had left him so befuddled. Jerry got water and bathedand dressed the deep cuts and bruises as best he could. The shock ofthe cold water restored the man's faculties in some measure and hefinally managed a coherent statement.

  "It was your two friends, I guess. They broke in on me while I wasworking downstairs. One stood guard over me while the other ransackedthe house. Then, when they couldn't find anything, they tried to forceme to tell where my papers were hid. That was when I rebelled, and theypretty near did for me. I put up a pretty good scrap for a while, untilone of them got a nasty twist on my arm. I guess the shoulder'sdislocated; I can't move it. But I guess I left a few marksmyself--that's why they were so rough. But all they got was thesatisfaction of beating me up."

  "I wish I knew what it was all about," remarked Jerry. "I feel like afellow at a moving picture show who came in about the middle of thereel. And there's nobody to tell me what happened before."

  "I guess there's no harm in telling _you_--now. You see, Jerry, the bigoutstanding feature of the war across the water has been the work doneby two recent inventions, the submarine and the aeroplane. That set methinking. The water isn't deep enough around here to do muchexperimenting with submarines, but there's dead oodles of air. Soaeroplanes it had to be. Now, the aircraft have been a distinctdisappointment, except as scouting helps, because the high speed of theaeroplanes makes accurate bomb-dropping almost impossible.

  "That was my starter. If I could perfect some means of stopping amachine in mid-flight, just long enough to drop a hundred pounds ofdestruction overboard with a ninety per cent chance of hitting themark, I had it. Well, I got it. The _Skyrocket_ is the first aeroplanethat can stop dead still--or was. I showed my model to the propergovernment officials, but even after I had cut my way through endlessred tape I found only a cold ear and no welcome at all. I think theofficial I talked to had a pet invention of his own.

  "At any rate I was plumb disgusted. I finally took my idea to thebusiness agent of a foreign power--and the reception I got almost tookme off my feet. Meet me halfway! They pretty near hounded me to deathtill I finally consented to give them an option on the thing, But thenmy troubles began. The man who had made the deal with me had to stepaside for a couple of old fogies who can't grasp anything they can'tsee or handle. I was about disgusted, when a friend introduced me to afriend of his, who hinted that there were other markets where the paywas better. The upshot of it was that I gave this man--as agent ofcourse for _his_ government--a second option on the invention to holdgood if no deal was made with the first party before August first, whenoption number one expires.

  "Mr. Lewis and Mr. Harris represent--well, the name of the countrydoesn't make any difference, but they hold the first option. They arecautious; they won't buy unless they can see a complete machine thatworks perfectly. The others are willing to buy the idea outright, justas it stands.

  "Of course I have no proof that the two men you saw--and they are thesame I am sure as the two who burglarized me--have anything to do withmy invention, but I'd venture a guess that their aim is to prevent mybeing able to demonstrate my machine before August first. What do youthink?"

  "I think we'd better be getting busy."

  "There's nothing to do. Of course, I don't lose any money by it--I gainsome. But I hate to sell my idea to a gang of cutthroats and thieves. Iresent being black-handed into a thing like that. But with Billingslaid out, the _Skyrocket_ wrecked and myself all binged up, there'slittle chance. I suppose I could get a lot of mechanics and turn out anew plane in time, but I don't know where I could get men I couldtrust. Like as not those two villains, or their employer, would manageto get at least one of their crew into the camp, and there'd be a realtragedy before we got through."

  "I tell you what," suggested Jerry. "If you feel strong enough tomanage it, you come over to the house and let ma get you somebreakfast. Then you'll feel a little more hopeful--ma's breakfastsalways work that way," he said loyally. "There is bound to be a way outof this mix-up, and we'll find it or know the reason why."

  Over a savory pile of pancakes Mr. Fulton did grow more hopeful,especially when Jerry began to outline a scheme that had been growingin his mind. He began by asking questions.

  "Do you have to have such skilled mechanics to make those repairs?"

  "Well, no, not as long as I have skilled eyes to oversee the job. Agood deal of it is just dub work. Most anybody could do it if he wastold how. I could do the directing easy enough; but I'm notleft-handed. However, I'll chase downtown and let Doc Burgess look meover; maybe my shoulder isn't as bad as it feels. But I'm afraid myright arm is out of the fight for at least a couple of weeks--andthere's just two weeks between now and August first. I'd not be muchgood except as a boss, and a boss isn't much good without somebody tostand over. So there you are, right back where we started."

  "Not on your life! We're a mile ahead, and almost out of the woods. Ifyou can boss dubs, and get anything out of them, why I know where youcan get at least nine of them, and they're all to betrusted--absolutely."

  "Tod could help a lot, and I suppose you are one of the dubs, but whereare the rest?"

  "Phil Fulton and his Boy Scouts----"

  "My nephew, you mean, from Chester? I suppose I could get him, but justwhat are these Boy Scouts?"

  "You've been so interested in your experiments that you don't know whatthe rest of the world is doing. Never heard of the Boy Scouts?" Jerry,secure in his own recent kn
owledge, was openly scornful.

  "Oh, yes, now that you remind me, I do remember of reading about somered-blooded boy organization--a little too vigorous for chaps like youand Tod, eh?" he teased.

  "You'll see what happens before the summer is ended. But that isn'thelping _us_ out any, now. Phil's patrol is down there with Tod rightthis minute, and I bet you they know a thing or two about mechanics.That seems to be their specialty--knowing something about mosteverything. I'm mighty sure that if you tell us what to do, we can doit. We may not know a lot about the why of it, but we're strong onfollowing instructions."

  "I'd be willing to take a chance on you fellows if it wasn't for thetime. The _Skyrocket's_ a complete wreck. It took Billings a good manytimes two weeks to build her up in the first place----"

  "But you're not losing anything. The boys would be tickled to death totackle it, and if we do lose out finally, why we've lost nothing butthe time. It's like a big game----"

  "Yes," observed Mr. Fulton dryly. "A big game, with the handicaps allagainst us. If we win, we lose money, and we have the pleasant chanceof getting knocked over the head most any night."

  "But that isn't the idea. A set of foreigners are trying to force somefree-born Americans to do something we don't want to do. Are we goingto let them?"

  "Not by a jugfull!" exclaimed Mr. Fulton, getting up painfully from hischair. "I'll go on down to the doctor--I expect I should have firstthing, before I started to stiffen up. You go ahead to Lost Island, andsee what can be done toward picking up the pieces and taking the_Skyrocket_ over to the island. If there are enough unbroken pieces wemay have a chance. I'll be along by noon."

  He hobbled down the street and Jerry, after telling his mother what hadhappened, and getting reluctant consent to his extended absence,gathered together a few necessaries and made all speed for theinterurban. There was no temptation to go to sleep this time, for histhoughts were racing madly ahead to the exciting plan to beat theschemers who had wrecked the _Skyrocket_. At the same time he wasconscious of a disappointed feeling in his heart; why could it not havebeen the United States that had bought the invention? That would havemade the fight really worth while. For, to tell the truth, the twounenthusiastic owners of the first option did not appeal to him muchmore than did the others.

  He found the whole Boy Scout crew gathered about the _Skyrocket_,having given up a perfectly wonderful fishing trip to guard theairship. Jerry quickly told the story of the morning's events to Phil,interrupted at every other sentence by the rest of the excited Scouts.The whole affair appealed to their imaginations, and when he came tothe proposition he had made Mr. Fulton, there was no doubt of theirbacking up his offer.

  "Let's get busy!" shouted Dick Garrett, Assistant Patrol Leader. "Weought to be all ready to move across by the time Mr. Fulton gets here."

  And he started toward the wreck as if to tear the thing apart with hisbare hands and carry it piecemeal to the banks of the Plum.

  "We won't get far, that way, Dick," observed Phil. "First of all wewant a plan of action. And before that, we need to investigate, to seejust how much damage has been done and how big the pieces are going tobe that we'll have to carry."

  "But we don't know the first thing about how the contraption works,"objected Dick, somewhat to Jerry's satisfaction, for there was a littlejealous thought in his heart that Phil would naturally try to take awayfrom him the leadership in the plan. But Phil soon set his mind at rest.

  "We don't need to know how it works. All we need to know is whether wehave to break it apart or if we can carry it down mostly in one piece.First, though, we've got to organize ourselves. Jerry's the boss ofthis gang, and as Patrol Leader I propose to be straw-boss. Anybody gotany objections? No? Well, then, Boss Jerry, what's orders?"

  Much pleased, Jerry thought over plans. A workable one quickly came tohim. "First of all we'll follow out your idea, Phil. Let's all getaround it and see if we can lift it all together. Dave, you catch holdof that rod sticking out in front of you--it won't bite. Give him ahand, Budge. All right, everybody! Raise her easy--_so_."

  To their unbounded relief, nearly all the aeroplane rose together. Oneplane, it is true, gave one final c-c-r-rack! as the last whole rod onthat side gave way; but the rest, twisted all out of shape and creakingand groaning, held together in one distorted mass.

  "All right," commanded Jerry; "let her down again--easy, now. That'sthe ticket. Now, Frank--the two Franks--you scout ahead and pick us outa clear trail to the water. You'll have to figure on a good twenty-footclearance.

  "I guess we might as well finish the work you young Sandows started. Isee that the right plane--or wing or whatever you call it--is just asgood as gone. We'll cut her away and that'll give us a better carryingchance."

  "Why not take her all apart while we're at it, Jerry?" suggested Phil."We'll have to anyway to get her over to the island."

  "Just leave it to me and we won't. I've got a little scheme. Who's gota heavy knife with a sharp big blade in it?"

  "That's part of our Scout equipment," answered Phil proudly. "Come on,Scouts, the boss says whack away the right wing."

  "Wing?" grunted Fred Nelson, hacking vainly at the tough wood. "Feelsmore like a drumstick to me!" Although the rods were splintered badlythey did not yield readily to the knives. The two trail scouts returnedlong before the task of clearing away the plane was finished.

  "There's a fairly easy way if we go around that hazel thicket and makefor the road about a hundred yards south of here, then come back alongthe road to that cut-over piece by the little creek, go in throughthere to the river trail, and along that, south again, till we comejust about straight across from here," reported the two.

  "All right. Now one of you stay here and mount guard over theleft-behinds, while the other goes ahead and shows us the way. How'sthe knife brigade coming on?"

  "Ready any time you are. What's next?"

  "Line up on each side the stick of the _Skyrocket_, and we'll pick herup and tote her to the beach. Back here, Dave, you and Barney; we needmore around the motor--it weighs sixteen ounces to the pound. All setnow? Right-o--pick her up. Lead ahead, Frank."

  The unwieldy load swayed and threatened to buckle, and more than oncethey had to set it down and find new holds, but the winding road pickedout by Frank Ellery was followed without any serious mishap, until atlast they stood on the high bank overlooking the wide stretch of sandybeach beyond which Plum Run rippled along in the sunshine.

  "Set her down--gently, now," ordered Jerry. "We'll let her rest herewhile we bring up our reinforcements--and the rest of our baggage.Phil, you take three Scouts and go back and bring in the wings. LeaveFrank there until you've gathered up every last scrap. The rest of uswill stay here to figure out some way of getting our plunder shippedsafely across to Lost Island."

  "Go to it!" urged Phil mockingly. "You've got some job ahead of you.You figure out how a rowboat's going to float that load across--and letme know about it."

  "Yes," challenged a new voice, "you do that, and let me know about ittoo."

  Mr. Fulton had stepped unobserved through the border of trees and brushlining the river path.

  "Huh!" bragged Jerry. "If that was the hardest thing we had to do, wecould use the _Skyrocket_ for a fireworks celebration to-night!"