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Discovering Diverse Content Through
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 CHAPTER VIII.

THE PROFESSOR TALKS ON AVIATION.

The last remark of Professor Morgan threw Bohunkus Johnson into

a state of excitement. He had obeyed Harvey and remained mute
during the conversation, but he now addressed the visitor directly:
“Did yo’ say Afriky, boss?”
The man looked in his direction and nodded his head.
“That’s what I said, sir.”
“Dat’s where my fader libs.”
Harvey felt it his duty to explain:
“My colored friend claims to be the son of a distinguished African
chief, whom he hopes to visit some day.”
“What is the name of the chief?” asked the Professor.
“His given name is the same as his; the full name is Bohunkus
Foozleum.”
“I can’t say I ever heard of him,” remarked the Professor without
cracking a smile.
“I sent him a letter a month ago, in de care ob Colonel Roosevelt
and it’s ’bout time I got an answer. I’m sure de Colonel will call on
him while he’s hunting in Afriky.”
“Well, when my machine is perfected, I’ll take you with me and it
sha’n’t cost you a penny,” said Professor Morgan.
Bohunkus chuckled with delight and settled down to listen. The
visitor now ignored him and addressed the others.
“Aviation is the theme that fills nearly all minds and it is daily
growing in importance. The possibilities are boundless; it will
revolutionize travel, social life and the methods of warfare. It will
render the destruction of life and property so appallingly easy that
no nation will dare array itself against another. You and I are likely to
see that day when:—

“‘The war drum throbs no longer and the battle flags are
furled
O’er the parliament of nations, o’er a reunited world.’

“We can remember the universality of the bicycle; then came, and
it stays with us, the automobile, and now it is the aeroplane. The
day is near when there will be numberless routes established
between cities and countries and when the ocean will be crossed
east and west by a procession of heavier-than-air machines, and
every family will have its hangar and its occupant awaiting the wish
of the owner.”
The Professor showed a disposition to quiz the young aviator, who
met him as best he could, though sensible of his lack of knowledge
as compared with one who had given so much thought and
experimentation to it.
“Naturally,” said he, “men’s first ideas were of using wings as birds
do, but it would take a Samson or a Hercules to put forth the
necessary strength. But it has been tried times without number. I
think the ancient Greeks wove many romantic tales of aerial flights
—”
The Professor paused and Harvey accepted the invitation:
“Such as Daedalus and Icarus, who were said to have flown to the
sun and back again. The Greek Achytus made a dove of wood,
driven by heated air, and one of his countrymen constructed a brass
fly which kept above the ground for some minutes.”
“Do you recall what aviator first came to grief?”
“‘Simon the Magician,’ who during the reign of the emperor Nero
made a short flight before a Roman crowd but tumbled to death, as
did a good many during the Middle Ages.”
“The Chinese were centuries ahead of the rest of the world in the
use of the mariner’s compass, printing, gunpowder and the flying of
kites. There are authentic records of balloon flights in the fourteenth
century, and a hundred years later discoveries were made of which
present aviators have taken advantage. You have learned that
although America was visited a thousand years ago and even earlier
by white men, the glory of the discovery is given to Christopher
Columbus. So the credit of the first real step in aviation belongs to
two Frenchmen. Can you help me to recall their names?”
“I don’t think you need any help,” laughed Harvey, who saw the
drift of his friend’s quizzing, “but the men you have in mind were
Joseph and Etienne Montgolfier, who lived at Annonay, about forty
miles from Lyons.”
“What was their idea of aerostation?”
“They learned from many experiments that a light globe filled with
hot air will rise because its weight is less than the surrounding
atmosphere, just as a cork or bit of pine comes to the surface of
water. They made a globular ball, thirty-five feet in diameter, of
varnished silk, and in June, 1783, in the presence of an immense
crowd at Annonay built a fire under the mouth on the lower side.
Soon after when the ropes were loosened, the balloon mounted
upward for more than a mile, then was carried to one side by a
current of air and as the vapor within cooled, came gently down to
earth again.
“The incident caused a sensation and Paris subscribed money for
manufacturing hydrogen, a very buoyant gas to take the place of hot
air. The brothers sent up such a balloon in Paris in the latter part of
August. It sailed aloft for half a mile, finally drifted out of sight and
came down fifteen miles from the starting point.”
“Did it carry any passenger?” asked the Professor.
“No; the time had not come for that venture, but soon after the
brothers sent up a second hot air balloon at Versailles, in the
presence of the king and queen. A wicker cage was suspended
below and in it were a duck, a rooster and a sheep, all of which
showed less excitement than the cheering thousands. It rose about
a fourth of a mile, and eight minutes after leaving the ground
descended two miles away.”
“Who was the first man to go up in a balloon?” asked Abisha
Wharton.
 “I don’t remember his name; can you tell me, Professor?”
“Pilatre de Rozier, whose ascent was made on the 15th of October,
1783, in an oval balloon constructed by the Montgolfiers. It was not
quite fifty feet in diameter and half again as high. A circular wicker
basket was suspended beneath, and under the neck of the balloon in
the center was an iron grate or brazier supported by chains, the
whole structure weighing sixteen hundred pounds. M. de Rozier fed
the flames with straw and wood and thus kept the air sufficiently
heated to lift him eighty-four feet, where held by ropes, the balloon
remained suspended for four and a half minutes and then gently
came back to earth.
“This incident blazed the way for successful aerostation. M. de
Rozier accomplished higher and more durable ascents and
occasionally took a passenger with him. We must remember,
however, that in all these instances, the balloon was restrained by
ropes and could not wander off. The aeronauts chafed under such
restriction, and on November 21, 1783, M. de Rozier and the
Marquis d’Arlandes cut loose from the earth in front of a royal palace
in the Bois de Boulogne, it being the first time such a thing was ever
done. The ascent lasted not quite half an hour, when the aeronauts
came safely down in a field five miles distant from the starting
point.” [1]

1. It is well to bear the following distinctions in mind: aerostation

is the art of flying in a balloon; when the balloon is equipped with
motor and propellers so as to be navigable, it is dirigible; an aerocar
is any kind of a flying machine; an aeronaut is any one who
navigates the air in a balloon; an aeroplane is a flying machine
which is heavier than air; a monoplane is a one-planed and a biplane
a two-planed flying machine; a triplane consists of three superposed
planes; a quadruplane of four planes; airmen are either aeronauts or
aviators; aviation is the art of flying in an aeroplane and an aviator is
one who so flies; aeronef is an aeroplane as defined by International
Congress; a hangar corresponds to a garage for an automobile;
ornithopter is a heavier-than-air machine, with wings upon which it
depends for support and propulsion; petrol is the European name for
gasoline.
 CHAPTER IX.

THE PROFESSOR TALKS ON AVIATION (Continued.)

Professor Morgan continued: “Thus far the aeronauts had used

hot air with which to make their ascents, but the fire under the
balloon was always dangerous and more than one fatal accident
resulted therefrom. Hydrogen gas was far better, but more costly.
Public subscriptions enabled two brothers named Robert, assisted by
M. Charles, to construct a spherical balloon, twenty-eight feet in
diameter, the silk envelope being covered with varnish, and the
upper half inclosed in a network which supported a hoop that
encircled the middle of the sphere. A boat-like structure dangled a
few feet below the mouth, and was attached to the hoop, while a
safety valve at the apex prevented bursting through expansion of
the gas as the balloon climbed the sky.
“This structure was inflated with hydrogen gas in the Garden of
the Tuileries, Paris, on the first of December, 1783. M. Charles and
one of the Roberts seated themselves in the car, provided with extra
clothing, provisions, sand bags for ballast, a barometer and a
thermometer, and gave the word to let go. The balloon soared
swiftly, the aeronauts waving hands and hats in response to the
cheers of the multitudes below. The ascent was a success in every
respect. Having drifted thirty miles from Paris, the balloon safely
descended near Nesle. There was so much gas left that the
enthusiastic M. Charles decided to go up again, after parting with his
companion. He climbed nine thousand feet and then by the
dexterous use of his ballast came to earth again without the least
jar.
 “The impulse thus given to ballooning spread to other countries
and it would be idle to attempt any record of their efforts. It may be
said that for nearly a hundred years little or no progress was made
in aerostation. Then came the second stage, the construction of
dirigible or manageable balloons. All the structures which had
hitherto left the earth were wholly under control of air currents, as
much as a chip of wood is under the control of the stream into which
it is flung. People began to experiment with a view of directing the
course of the ships of the sky. While it was impossible to make
headway against a gale or strong wind, it seemed that the aeronaut
ought to be able to overcome a moderate breeze. The first attempt
was by means of oars and a rudder, but nothing was accomplished
until 1852, when Giffard used a small engine, but the difficulty of
constructing a light motor of sufficient power checked all progress
for awhile. It could not do so for long, however, as the inventive
genius of mankind was at work and would not pause until satisfied.
One of Giffard’s stupendous ideas was a balloon more than a third of
a mile long with an engine weighing thirty tons, but the magnitude
and expense involved were too vast to be considered.
“It would be tedious to follow the various steps in dirigible
ballooning. It was not until 1882, that the Tissandier brothers,
Gilbert and Albert—Frenchmen—built a dirigible cigar-shaped balloon
substantially on the old lines, but it could not be made to travel
more than five miles an hour in a dead calm, and was helpless in a
moderate wind. None the less their attempts marked an epoch, for
they introduced an electric motor. The ‘La France,’ when constructed
some time later, was a hundred and sixty-five feet long, twenty-
seven feet at its greatest diameter, and had a capacity of sixty-six
thousand cubic feet. Many changes and improvements followed and
an ascent was made in August, 1884, during which the balloon
traveled two and a half miles, turned round and came back in the
face of a gentle breeze to its starting point, the whole time in the air
being less than half an hour. This was the first exploit of that nature.
“But,” added the Professor, “I am talking too much about dirigible
ballooning, for our chief interest does not lie there. I am sure you
have read of the Schwartz aluminum dirigible; Santos-Dumont and
his brilliant performances with his fourteen airships; Roze’s double
airship, and Count Zeppelin’s splendid successes with his colossal
dirigibles.
“We have dealt only with structures that were lighter than air. The
wonderful field that has opened before us and into which thousands
are crowding, with every day bringing new and startling
achievements, is that of the heavier-than-air machines. In other
words, we have learned to become air men and to fly as the birds
fly.
“Success was sure to come sooner or later, and when it did come
every one wondered why it was so late, since the principles are so
simple that a child can understand them. Otto Lilienthal, after long
study and experimentation, published in Berlin in 1889, as one of
the results of his labors, the discovery that arched surfaces driven
against the wind have a strong tendency to rise. Then he
demonstrated by personal experiments that a beginning must be
made by ‘gliding’ through the air in order to learn to balance one’s
self. He piled up a lot of dirt fifty feet high, and from its summit
made a number of starts, succeeding so well that he tried a small
motor to help flap his wings. Sad to say, an error of adjustment
caused the machine to turn over in August, 1896, and he was killed.
“Percy S. Pilcher of England experimented for several years along
the same lines and used the method of a kite by employing men to
run with a rope against the wind, but he was destined to become
another martyr, for he was fatally injured one day by a fall. Chanute
and Herring of Chicago taught us a good deal about gliders. Herring
used a motor driven by compressed air and had two plane surfaces
for his apparatus, but his motor was too weak to sustain him for
more than a few minutes.”
“Professor,” said Wharton, “I have often heard of the Hargrave
kite; why do folks call it that name?”
“You mean the box pattern, made of calico stretched over
redwood frames. They are the invention of Lawrence Hargrave of
Sydney, Australia. He attached a sling seat to one and connected
three above it. A brisk wind showed a lift of more than two hundred
pounds, and he made a number of ascents, the kites preserving
their stability most satisfactorily.
“Of course you do not need to be told anything about Orville and
Wilbur Wright of Dayton, Ohio. These plucky and persevering fellows
experimented for years in the effort to overcome obstacles that had
baffled inventors for centuries. Among the problems they solved
were whether stability is most effectively gained by shifting the
center of gravity, or by a special steering device, and what the
power of a rudder is when fixed in front of a machine. They decided
that in gliding experiments it is best for the aviator to lie in a
horizontal position; that a vertical rudder in the rear of a machine is
preferable in order to turn to the right or left, and a horizontal
rudder or small plane in front is the most effective device for guiding
the aeroplane up or down.”
The Professor was in the middle of his interesting talk, when he
abruptly paused and came to his feet.
“I’ve stayed longer than I intended,” said he; “I must bid you good
night. If it won’t be too much trouble to your wife I shall be glad to
drink a cup of coffee.”
“No trouble at all,” replied Abisha Wharton springing from his
stool; “won’t you eat something?”
“I don’t need it.”
The three walked through the open door into the larger room
where the wife was sitting. Bohunkus was leaning back against the
front of the house sound asleep, as he had been for some minutes.
No one disturbed him. The woman had heard the words of the
visitor, and quickly brought in a big coffee pot from which she
poured a brimming cup, placing some milk and sugar on the table.
The Professor had not yet thanked any one for the proffers made
him and he did not do so now, but standing erect, with his cap
almost touching the ceiling, he drank, smacked his thin lips and
remarked that the refreshment was good.
Standing thus clearly disclosed in the candle-light, the Professor
impressed Harvey Hamilton more than before. He was as straight as
an arrow and his piercing black eyes had a gleam that must have
possessed hypnotic power. In fact the woman showed so much
restlessness under his glances that she made a pretext for leaving
the room and remained out of sight until he departed. He did not
offer to pay his host and still forgot to acknowledge by word the
kindnesses shown him.
Harvey and Abisha accompanied him on his brief walk across the
little plain to where his machine was waiting. Without any
preliminaries such as testing the wires, levers, framework and
different parts of the apparatus, he seated himself.
“Now,” he said in his thunderous bass, “note the action of my
uplifter.”
This contrivance was simply a horizontal propeller under the
machine, which being set revolving with great rapidity hoisted it
gently from the ground and as straight upward as a cannon shot
fired at the zenith. It was easy to understand the principle of the
action, but not of some of the other performances of the eccentric
inventor. When the aerocar was well off the earth, the regular
propeller in front began work and the uplifter became motionless.
All this time only a faint humming noise was noticeable, but in a
few minutes that became inaudible. Professor Morgan was
swallowed up in the darkness and speedily vanished, for he made no
use of his searchlight. He must have been half a mile to the
northward when he let off a rocket. Ordinary prudence on account of
sparks probably caused him to send it sideways. It formed a striking
picture,—this germination as it were of a blazing object in mid air,
which shot away with arrowy swiftness in a graceful parabola that
curved downward, and when about half way to the ground burst into
a myriad of dazzling sparks of different hues that were quickly lost in
the gloom.
The two spectators waited and gazed in silence, but saw nothing
more and returned to their seats in front of the cabin.
“Strange man,” said Harvey, “I wonder whether we shall ever see
him again.”
“I don’t think there is much chance of my meeting him, but you
may bump against him some time when you are cruising overhead.”
“That seems hardly likely, for the field is too big.”
 And yet Harvey Hamilton and Professor Milo Morgan were
destined to meet sooner than either suspected and in circumstances
of which neither could have dreamed.
Wharton refilled his corncob pipe and puffed with deliberate
enjoyment.
“What do you think of him, Mr. Hamilton?” he finally asked.
“He’s wonderfully well informed about aviation, but is cranky.”
“He’s more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s plumb crazy.”
“You wouldn’t think so from his conversation; no one can talk
better than he.”
“But his eyes! They gave him dead away; I’m glad he didn’t stay
all night.”
“What difference could that make?”
“More’n likely he would have got up and killed us all while we
were asleep.”
Harvey laughed.
“While he isn’t the sort of companion I should fancy, I’m sure he is
not that kind of a lunatic. The chances are that he will lose his life
through some of his experiments in aviation, the same as those we
talked about.”
“Shall we say anything to Bohunkus about the man being off his
base?” asked Wharton, as if in doubt regarding his duty in the
circumstances.
“It isn’t worth while; nothing can be gained by doing so.”
And in reaching this decision, Harvey Hamilton made a grand
mistake, as he was fated to learn before many days. It would have
been a fortunate thing, too, had the colored youth kept awake
during this chat, but it was not so to be.
As the night advanced, the host told his guest he was at liberty to
retire whenever agreeable. The couple had a sleeping room upstairs,
and not being well provided for company, a blanket was spread on
the floor in the lower front room. Bohunkus was still unconscious, his
cap having fallen at his feet. Harvey reached over and shook his
shoulder.
 “Come, Bunk, it’s time to go to bed—excuse me!”
Although the action was gentle, it destroyed the sleeper’s center
of gravity, and he and the stool tumbled over on the floor. Even
then, he was only partially awakened and mumbled a wish that folks
would stay on their own side of the bed, as he climbed unsteadily to
his feet.
The weather was so mild that there was no discomfort in
occupying a room whose windows and door were open. With the aid
of the candle, Bohunkus stumbled to the blanket in the corner,
pitched down upon it and the next minute was slumbering as
soundly as when his stool tipped over with him. He and Harvey had
laid aside their heavy coats before they sawed and split the supply
of wood, and the single blanket gave them all the protection they
needed. Thus the two lay down to pleasant dreams.
 CHAPTER X.

THE FLYING BOYS CONTINUE THEIR JOURNEY.

The morning dawned clear, mild and bright. Harvey and Bohunkus
were astir at an early hour and filled the tank with gasoline and
replenished the supply of oil. An examination of the aeroplane was
made and every wire, brace, lever and appurtenance found, so far
as could be judged, in perfect condition. The two went back to the
house where an excellent meal was awaiting them. Harvey slipped
so liberal a fee into the hands of the woman that she was delighted
and showed it to her husband, who grinned appreciatively. It may be
said that he earned the extra pay through a valuable suggestion to
the aviator,—one that was effective and so simple that it was strange
it had not been thought of before.
“You tell me,” said Abisha, “that when one of them things is ready
to start on its flight, you hold it until the propeller has got its grip
and then let it go with a jump.”
“Something like that is the practice.”
“When there’s only two of you, how do you manage it?”
“The only way is to start the thing, with Bunk in his seat; I run
alongside for a few steps and spring into my seat.”
“You might slip and let the aeroplane get away from you. Then
Bunk would be thrown out on his head.”
“He wouldn’t be hurt if he landed that way,” replied Harvey with a
laugh, “but he might alight on his shins and that would be bad.”
“Let me show you a better plan.”
Abisha strode to the woodpile and came back with a long, strong
stick. He set one end in the ground, with the upper inclined against
the footboard. The prop thus gained held the biplane immovable
before a strong push.
“Let her shove all she wants to,” explained the man, “and when
you’re ready, kick the stick aside.”
“The scheme could not be better,” said Harvey admiringly, as he
made sure that the point in contact with the machine could not
injure it. He seated himself and Abisha swung the propeller around;
the engine instantly responded with its deafening roar and a
powerful thrust was exerted against the prop. In a few minutes, the
youth leaned over, grasped the stick and swung it aside. The
machine made a bound like a runner starting on a race, spun over
the ground for a hundred feet or more, and then in obedience to the
upturned rudder in front, leaped clear of the ground. She was off.
Harvey glanced back. In the door was the smiling housewife, with
her husband on the spot where he stood when the flight began. He
waved his hand in salutation and the two aviators responded.
This is a good place in which to give the explanation that must be
made in order to understand how it came about that these two
youths were so far from home, and engaged upon the outing that
was destined to prove the most memorable in the life at least of one
of them.
Harvey Hamilton was the son of a wealthy merchant, whose
business took him to New York every week-day morning. The youth
was preparing to enter Princeton University, and his elder brother
Dick was a student in Yale. In the beginning of the summer the
family separated, each member indulging his or her taste in the way
of vacation, with the parent glad to pay the bills. The mother and
daughter Mildred went to the White Mountains, Dick to the
Adirondacks with a party of students, while Harvey and his father
took a jaunt through a part of Europe, sailing home from Naples on
the Duca degli Abruzzi. Wife and daughter, knowing when they were
due, were at home to meet them. Dick was still in the mountains,
from which he wrote the most glowing accounts of his life in camp
and conquests of the gamy trout that are still to be found in the cool
streams.
 On the homeward passage, Harvey and his father were lucky
enough to meet the noted German aviator, Ostrom Sperbeck, of
whom we have heard already.
Mr. Hamilton explained to the Professor that his son Harvey with
the assistance of the colored youth, who was “bound out” to a
neighbor, were at work on an aeroplane with which they hoped to
fly, but the Professor warned them against it.
“It is too dangerous; some of the best aviators have lost their lives
and you know that one of the Wright brothers came within a hair of
being killed. Encourage your son, if you wish, in the sport, for those
who are boys to-day are the ones that will make the greatest
discoveries and advances in aviation, but do not let him take any
risks that can be avoided. Buy him a first-class machine and forbid
him to use any other.”
Mr. Hamilton was impressed with the advice and acted upon it.
Bohunkus Johnson was as ardent as his young friend, but, lacking
his mental brightness, was not given charge of the aeroplane,
though promised a chance of trying his hand later on.
So much having been told, it will be understood how on a pleasant
summer day, Harvey and Bohunkus started on their outing, with
permission to be gone several weeks, though their expectation was
to return in the course of ten days or so.
Several facts will be borne in mind. Nothing not deemed
absolutely necessary was taken with the aviators. Inasmuch as they
could not stay more than two hours in the air, without replenishing
their supply of fuel, they carried no food, nor were any weapons
taken along, for it was not probable they would ever need anything
of the kind. Although Harvey headed toward a spur of the Alleghany
Mountains, with the object of relieving what promised to become a
monotonous experience at times, it did not seem possible that they
would ever run into personal danger from that cause. He carried a
pair of binoculars held by a strap over one shoulder, for such an
instrument was likely to prove useful in their voyages through the
air.
Harvey ascended for a fourth of a mile, and Bohunkus shuddered
at the thought of plunging again into the arctic regions, but his
friend lowered the front rudder and they skimmed away on a level.
The view was as entrancing as ever, with cities, towns, villages,
scattered houses, stretches of wood and cultivated country, winding
streams, puffing engines pulling trains that looked like insignificant
toys, and the gleam of what seemed to be a lake of several miles
area in the distance. The wanderer through the finest picture
galleries in Europe can become sated with the numberless master-
pieces, and wonderful as was the unfolding panorama, the youths
grew tired of its splendid sameness. When they gazed at the earth it
was without any clear impression of what they saw.
Far to the westward loomed a mountain, the outlines showing a
dim blue haze against the summer sky. Harvey had fixed the
elevation in his mind before leaving home and, it was his intention to
sail over the summit into the more unsettled country beyond. As
near as he could judge the range was about twenty miles distant.
“I can easily make it in an hour,” he reflected, “and not hurry.”
He was traveling at a moderate pace, for he did not like to impose
a strain upon the machine by pressing it to the limit. There was no
call for hurry, and after clearing the elevation he could land at some
town and buy what gasoline he needed. He shifted the course of the
aeroplane slightly, and descended until within two or three hundred
feet of the earth. There were no tall buildings to be avoided, and
none of the trees that showed were lofty enough to interfere.
Bohunkus sat in his usual seat, idly grasping the supports, for the
progress was so smooth that he might have folded his arms without
risk, always provided the aeroplane did not collide with any of the
fierce aerial gyrations, which are so dangerous to aviators, because
being invisible, no precaution can be taken against them.
Harvey slackened his speed still more, and coursed easily forward,
crossed a winding creek, and was skimming toward a moderate
stretch of woods, when he noticed a man standing on the margin
and watching the aeroplane. The fact that he held a gun in one hand
did not concern the youth, who, prompted by the spirit of mischief
natural in one of his years, dropped still lower and headed for the
man, as if he meant to crash into him.
 The stranger, instead of turning about and dashing into the wood
where he would have been safe from pursuit, suddenly raised his
double-barreled shot gun and let fly with both charges. Nothing of
the kind had been dreamed of, either by Harvey or his companion,
and they were startled indeed when they heard the shot rattle
through the wires and framework of the machine. One of the pellets
nipped the cheek of Harvey and Bohunkus yelled,
“I’m shot all to pieces, Harv!”
Harvey turned his head in affright, but saw no evidence that the
other had been harmed in the least. The man, seeing that his hasty
aim had been ineffective, began hastily to reload his weapon with
the evident purpose of doing execution next time.
 CHAPTER XI.

FIRED ON.

Bohunkus Johnson was never so angry in his life and the

resentment of Harvey Hamilton was equally intense. That a man
should deliberately shoot at their machine without provocation more
than a bit of harmless mischief, was beyond bearing. The colored
youth stood up and shouted to his friend:
“I’m gwine to jump! I’ll teach him sumfin!”
“Wait one moment,” replied Harvey, as he shut off power and
hastily dropped to earth. His momentum carried him several rods
beyond the young man, who was still busy reloading his gun.
Fortunately for our friends it was of the old-fashioned muzzle
pattern, and required more time than the modern weapon. He
roared with an oath:
“I’ll larn you better than to go skyugling over the country and
trying to scare folks to death. Jes’ wait till I git my gun loaded agin!”
But neither Harvey nor Bohunkus had any intention of waiting.
Before the machine came to a rest, the colored youth leaped to the
ground and broke into a run for the man, who held his position.
“Yo’s gwine to larn me something, am yo’? Wal, dis am de time to
begin!”
“Sail into him, Bunk!” shouted Harvey, “and if you need any help,
I’ll give it!”
“All yo’ got to do am to keep out ob dis bus’ness; I’m running dis
funeral,” replied the African, without shifting his gaze from the young
farmer, who could not have been much older than Bohunkus. Not
once did the latter check his pace, but dashed at full speed at the
man. The instant he was within reach, he landed a blow that sent
the other spinning backward, with his feet pointing upward and the
weapon hurled from his grasp.
It was not a knockout, however, and the fellow was game. He
bounded up again as if made of rubber, and charged in turn upon his
assailant. Bohunkus had little “science,” but he had been in many
bouts, and was as strong as a bull. He braced himself to receive the
attack, which came the next instant. A clenched fist landed on his
jaw with a force that nearly carried him off his feet, and then the
two went at it hammer and tongs, with no apparent advantage at
first on either side.
Harvey, seeing that his machine was unharmed, watched the fight.
Nothing would have suited him better than to take Bunk’s place, for
he had been taught boxing by a professional and he knew, though
he might not have been so big or strong as his comrade, that he
could readily vanquish the awkward but powerful fighter. Coolness,
straight hitting and skilful parrying would do the business. He did not
mean to stand idly by and see Bunk maltreated, but it would not be
sportsmanlike to break in unless to stop the struggle.
The countryman was tough and wiry, and it is doubtful how the
fight would have ended had it depended upon fists alone, but in one
respect Bunk was much the other’s superior. He was known as the
best wrestler in the neighborhood of his home. When nearly a score
of blows had been exchanged, the negro rushed in, grasped his
antagonist about the waist, lifted him clear of the ground, and flung
him on his back with a violence that it seemed must have jarred his
teeth. Before he could spring to his feet again, Bunk was across his
chest and evening up things in the most impressive style that can be
imagined.
Suddenly the victim shouted at the top of his voice:
“Bill! Sam! Dick! Tom! Hurry up and part us afore we kill each
other!”
This was a strange appeal and puzzled Harvey, who was disposed
to think it was simply a bluff. The victim was too proud to beg for
mercy, and tried to scare off his assailant. Harvey stepped forward,
picked up the partially loaded gun from the ground, and with several
quick stamps of his shoe so broke the two hammers that the
weapon became useless for the time.
“That will prevent his using it against us,” was the thought of our
young friend, who again turned his attention to the combatants on
the ground.
“Don’t be too hard on him, Bunk; I guess he’s had enough.”
“Why doan’ he holler ‘’nough!’ den? dat’s what I’m waitin’ fur.”
The victim had ceased his outcries, and was desperately trying to
writhe free and roll off the burden, but his master couldn’t be
shaken from his perch.
“Why doan’ yo’ holler like a gemman oughter do when he’s had
’nough? Holloa!”
When Harvey Hamilton thought the fellow was merely bluffing by
his calls for help, he made a mistake. From out of the wood came
running a man larger and older than any one of the three, and he
was followed by a second, third and fourth,—all full grown, massive,
muscular and each with fire in his eye. They had heard the cry of
their comrade in extremity and made haste to come to his help.
Their arrival caused a change of program. Much as I like Bohunkus
Johnson (and I trust that you, too, share the feeling), I am obliged
to confess that like many of his race he had a tinge of yellow in his
composition. So long as he held the upper hand, or so long as the
fight was in doubt, he displayed courage, but the arrival of
reinforcements threw him into a panic. He whisked off the prostrate
figure, leaped to his feet and dashed at his highest speed into the
woods. He ran like a person whose life was in danger, and the young
man who had suffered at his hands sped after him, breathing
threatenings and slaughter.
The new arrivals, who had been referred to as Bill, Sam, Dick and
Tom, were evidently young farmers, none more than twenty-five
years old. They had sturdy frames and could have given a good
account of themselves in a physical struggle. They must have been
mystified by what they saw, for the one who had dashed off in
pursuit of Bohunkus had not paused to make explanation.
One fact was a vast relief to Harvey Hamilton: none of them
carried a weapon, though it may be thought the quartet did not
need anything of the kind in order to work their will with the slim
active youth. The latter, with a quickness of resource which would
have done credit to one older than himself, picked up the discarded
shotgun at his feet, covering the lock as he did so with one hand in
order to hide the harm it had suffered. So long as the others
believed it sound and loaded, he could command the situation.
“Say, you,” said the tallest of the quartette in a loud voice, “what’s
the meaning of this row? We don’t exactly git the hang of things.”
Facing the group and with his back toward the biplane, Harvey
answered:
“Your friend had a misunderstanding with my friend, and it doesn’t
seem to be settled yet, though it looks as if yours had the
advantage.”
“What was the quarrel about?”
“Your friend—”
“That’s Herb,” interrupted the other speaker.
“Herb fired his gun at us without any cause.”
“Yes; we heerd it; if he didn’t have any cause, what was the
reason he took a shot at you?”
“Pure cussedness is all I can think of.”
“Didn’t he hit either of you?”
“He grazed my face; we came down to ask an explanation, and
my colored companion was giving him a good pummeling, when you
came up and scared him away.”
“I take it, stranger, that that contraption over there is one of them
infarnal flying machines.”
“It is a flying machine, but there’s nothing infernal about it.”
“Folks hain’t no bus’ness to cavort round the country in them.”
“I don’t see why they haven’t; we are not injuring you or any one
else.”
“Boys,” said the speaker, turning to his companions who were
standing near and listening to the conversation; “the best thing we
can do is to rip the blamed thing to slathers. What do you say?”
“Them’s our sentiments,” replied one while the three nodded.
“Come on then; it won’t take us long to make kindling wood of it.”
 He took a step forward, and then stopped. Harvey had leveled the
gun.
“The first one that lays a hand on my aeroplane must be prepared
to have daylight let through him.”
It was a staggering threat, but in the trying moment, Harvey
Hamilton could not help reflecting that the weapon was not only
injured, but unloaded. He would be in a sorry situation should they
learn the truth.
The strained situation could not last, and he slowly backed toward
the machine, holding the weapon in front, ready to be raised again
to a level should it become necessary.
“Four of you are rather too much for me,” he said with a grim
smile.
“Hooh! One of us could lay you out as easy as rolling off a log.”
“I am willing to take you one at a time, but I know that as soon as
I get the best of him the rest of you will pitch in and do me up.”
It was “Bill” who was talking for the four. He grinned and with a
snort replied:
“I’d ax nothing better than one crack at you, but there ain’t no
show with that loaded gun in your hands; nobody but a coward
would use that.”
“Then you may consider me a coward, for I am on to your tricks.”
By this time Harvey had reached his machine, but the problem
remained as to how he could seat himself and start the motor
without inviting an attack that must overwhelm him and wreck his
property. He stood for a minute undecided, while his enemies, less
than a dozen paces away, were on the alert for a chance to seize
any advantage that offered.
Suddenly the young aviator stepped into his seat, but, standing
upright, faced about and confronted them still with gun in hand.
They showed an ugly disposition at the prospect of his eluding them,
but seemingly there was no way to prevent it.
“If you would like a closer view,” Harvey said, “I have no
objection, but you must come one at a time. You may do so first.”
He indicated Bill, who hesitated:
“No shenanigan!”
 “Nothing of the kind, I promise you.”
After a moment’s pause, he gingerly approached, but showed he
was not wholly free from misgiving.
“What do you think of that big wheel?” asked Harvey.
“Hooh! seems to be made of black walnut,” replied the other,
laying a hand on one of the propeller blades.
“So it is; have you enough muscle to turn it round?”
“That’s dead easy,” replied Bill, grasping one of the arms and
whirling it about with double the force that was necessary.
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