Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island

  CHAPTER XIV

  PATCHING THE "SKYROCKET"

  But Jerry gave no explanation of the method he intended to use intransporting the unwieldy bulk across the narrow stretch of water.While Phil and his helpers disappeared, to bring up the rest of theaeroplane framework, he set his crew to work. The Scout camp, which wassomething like a hundred feet north, yielded a couple of trappers'axes; with these he soon had two stout saplings cut and trimmed to aneven length of thirty feet. In the larger end of each he cut a deepnotch, while to the smaller ends he nailed a good-sized block, thenails found in an emergency locker on the _Big Four,_ both it and theBoy Scout boat having been brought down and hauled up on the beach.

  The two boats were now laid side by side, twenty odd feet apart. Acrossthe bows he laid the one sapling, across the sterns, the other, so thatblocks and notches fitted down over the far edges of the boats. Mr.Fulton at once caught Jerry's idea and nodded his head approvingly.

  "All right," he said, "if the saplings will hold up the weight."

  "They don't need to," explained Jerry. "The _Skyrocket_ will reach overto the inner edges of the boats; I measured the distance with my eye.All the sticks do is to hold the two ships together."

  Phil's crew made two trips, on the second one bringing in Frank, whohad wrapped up a weird collection of broken-off parts in a piece ofvarnish-stiffened silk torn from one of the planes.

  It did not take long to load the "body" of the _Skyrocket_ onto thesaplings, the boats being still on shore. Then, all pushing steadily,the strange double craft was slowly forced across the sand and into theshallow shore-water of Plum Bun. Both boats settled dangerously near tothe point of shipping water, so it was fortunate that the river was ascalm as a millpond. At that, there was no hope that anyone could get into row the boats.

  "Strip for action!" shouted Phil. "The boss says we're to swim across.Likewise, the last one in's a rotten egg."

  The splashing that ensued, as ten youngsters plunged in, almost in abody, nearly swamped the boats. After his first shout of alarm, Mr.Fulton waved his hand gayly and shouted:

  "Go to it, fellows. If the doctor didn't have my arm in a splint I'd beright with you."

  "All right, Scouts," assented Jerry, "but go mighty easy."

  They were all good swimmers, and with hardly a ripple they propelledthe _Skyrocket_ slowly but steadily toward the shore of Lost Island. Asthey drew near they saw that they had spectators on both sides, forawaiting them was the girl Phil and Jerry had seen not so long before,but under different circumstances. Now she waved her hand encouragingly.

  "Oh, Liz-z-i-e!" shouted Phil, "where's the meat-axe?"

  For answer she caught up a pebble and sent it skimming in hisdirection, so close that Phil felt no shame in ducking, even if it didbring a great shout of laughter from his companions.

  But it was evident that "Lizzie" or Elizabeth Billings, as they sooncame to call her, bore no ill will as she came down to the water's edgeand awaited their coming. But the boys had no intention of making alanding so long as she was there, and Jerry was turning over in hismind just how to ask her to withdraw, when she apparently came to theconclusion that her presence was neither needed nor desired. At anyrate, she left the beach abruptly and disappeared along the islandpath, only stopping to send a hearty peal of laughter in theirdirection.

  "Next time across I guess well wear our clothes," snickered Budge. "Theyoung lady isn't used to welcoming savages to her lonely isle."

  "Try a little of your savage strength on that rod you're leaning on;nobody suggested that this affair was a lawn party," Phil reminded him."Come on, fellows, let's get the old _Skyrocket_ up out of the damp."

  After some maneuvering they decided to unload from the water, as thebeach shelved gradually. Within five minutes they were ready to makefor the other shore, being compelled to swim the boats back again, asno one had remembered to throw in the oars.

  This time their load was hardly worth calling one so far as weight wasconcerned, and four of the boys piled in, to row the boats across,nearly capsizing the whole arrangement in their efforts to outspeedeach other. This time they were fully dressed. One of the boys broughtthe two boats back, and now all the party crossed over, with theexception of poor Budge, who again was the one slated to stay behindand guard camp. Perhaps his disappointment was only half genuine,however, as he was none too keen about the heavy job of freighting thewreckage to the center of Lost Island.

  Tod was awaiting them when the last boatload beached on the island. Itwas easy to see that he had been greatly worried over the nonappearanceof his father, and the bandages in which Mr. Fulton was literallyswathed were not calculated to set his mind at ease. But Mr. Fulton'slaughing version of the "accident," as he called it, soon relievedTod's fears.

  They made short work of the trip to the long, low shed Phil and Jerryhad seen on their exploration of the island, and which they now learnedwas a "hangar," a place specially fitted for taking care of theaeroplane. When the big sliding door was thrown open the boys saw thatinside was a complete machine shop, with lathes, benches, drills andpunches, the whole being operated by power from the gasoline engine inthe corner.

  "The first thing to do," announced Mr. Fulton, "is to understand justwhat we're driving at. So I'll explain, as briefly as possible, justwhat this contraption of mine is. It's simply a device that enables meto reverse the propellers instantly at high speed. But that isn't all.The same lever throws in another set of propellers--lifters, we callthem--just above where the pilot sits. They act as a kind ofcounterbalance. Now these planes, or wings, act in the same manner asthe surfaces of a box kite, and aside from this device of mine, whichhas some details you won't need to know about, and a slight improvementI've made in the motor itself, the _Skyrocket_ isn't any different fromthe ordinary biplane, which you all know about, of course."

  "Of course we don't," blurted Jerry.

  "Of course we do," exclaimed Phil. "There isn't one of the FlyingEagles who hasn't made half a dozen model flying machines, and Barneyhere won a prize with a glider he made last spring in the manualtraining department of the high school. But we've all studied up aboutaeroplanes--that's why we call ourselves the _Flying_ Eagles."

  "Another reason," chuckled Mr. Fulton, "why there ought to be a bunchof Boy Scouts in Watertown. How about it, Jerry?"

  "Leave it to us. We'll challenge you Eagles to a tournament nextsummer, and you'd better brush up your scouting if you don't want tocome off second best. Is that a go, Tod?"

  "That's two go's--one for each of us."

  "Well," suggested Mr. Fulton, "those of you who don't know the firstprinciples of flying go into the second squad. You go to theoffice--that's the railed off space yonder--where you'll find plenty ofbooks for your instruction. As soon as I get gang number one properlystarted I'll come back and give you a course of sprouts."

  Jerry and Dave and Frank went to the "office," from where they heardMr. Fulton putting Tod in charge of one group, while he took the restunder his personal direction.

  "First off," he advised, "we'll take the _Skyrocket_ all apart. All thebroken or strained parts we'll throw over here in this box. Anythingthat's too big we'll pile neatly on the floor. I want to know as soonas possible just what I'll have to get from the city. I can call on theblacksmith shop at Watertown for some of the hardest welding, and JobWestern did most of the carpentering in the first place, so I knowwhere to go for my trusses and girders. Examine every bolt andnut--nothing is to be used that shows the slightest strain or defect.

  "Phil, you and I will tackle the motor. If she isn't smashed, half thebattle's won."

  Jerry sat back in the corner awhile, trying his best to get somethingdefinite out of the great array of books he found on a low shelf.Looking up and seeing Mr. Fulton's eyes on him, a twinkle in theirdepths, he threw down the latest collection of algebraic formulas andwalked over.

  "I guess I know enough about aeroplanes to unscrew nuts and nip wires.You can explain the theory of it to us a
fter working hours."

  So, with monkey wrench, pliers, hammers and screwdriver, he set aboutmaking himself as busy as any of the others--and as greasy.

  Dark came on them before they had made enough headway to be noticeable.The boys were glad to see the shadows creeping along, for, truth totell, they were all thoroughly tired and not a little hungry. Not abite had any of them eaten since breakfast.

  "Hope Budge has taken it upon himself to hash together a few eats,"sighed Phil. "I feel hungry enough to tackle my boots."

  "Eats?" exclaimed Mr. Fulton in surprise. "You don't mean to tell methat you're hungry?"

  "Oh, no, not hungry. Just plain starved," clamored the whole outfit.

  "Good. One of you go over and get your guard, and we'll see what thosemysterious signals mean that Miss Elizabeth has been making this pasthalf hour. She told me she'd cook us a dinner--if we could standdomestic science grub. This is the first time she ever kept real house.Let's wash up."

  The supper that Elizabeth brought, smoking hot, to the long, board-madetable the boys quickly set up in the hangar, did not smack very much ofinexperience. Even Budge declared it was well worth the trip across theriver. The boys were inclined to linger over the meal, and Dave startedin to tell a long story about a hunting trip in which he and his unclehad been the heroes of a bear adventure, but Mr. Fulton stopped him,even if the yawns of his listeners had not warned him to cut the taleshort.

  "We're in for some good hard licks, men," said Mr. Fulton, "and it'sgoing to mean early to bed and early to rise. That is," he amended, "ifyou want to go through with it."

  "We'll stick to the bitter end," they cried. "What's the program?"

  "Two weeks of the hardest kind of work. Breakfast at six; work atsix-thirty, till twelve; half hour for lunch; work till seven; dinner;bed. That may not sound like much fun--it isn't."

  "Suits us," declared Phil for the rest. "Do we get a front seat at thecircus when the man puts his head in the lion's mouth--and a ride onthe elephant?" he joked, pointing at the dismembered _Skyrocket_.

  "I'll give you something better than that, just leave it to me,"promised Mr. Fulton. "Where you going to turn in?"

  "We go over to camp. You'll blow the factory whistle when it's time toget up, won't you?"

  "No," teased Elizabeth, coming in just then, "I'll drop a couple o'nice smooth pebbles into camp as a gentle reminder."

  It was a jolly party that crowded into the two boats and sang andshouted their way across Plum Run some ten minutes later, but withinthe half-hour the night was still, for tired muscles could not longresist the call of sleep.

  But bright and early next morning they were all astir long before thehour of six and the promised pebbles. A swim in Plum Bun put them ingood trim for a hearty breakfast, and that in turn put them in shapefor a hard day's work.

  And a hard day it turned out to be, for Mr. Fulton parceled out thework and kept everyone on the jump. Jerry and Tod were put at themotor, which had refused to respond to its owner's coaxing. Theytwisted, tightened, adjusted, tested, till their fingers were crampedand eyes and backs ached.

  Lunch gave a most welcome rest, but the half hour was all too short.Every one of them welcomed Mr. Fulton's decision when he said: "We'vegot along so nicely that I think I will call this a six-o'clock day.Wash up, everybody, and let's see what Elizabeth has for us."