Airship Andy; Or, The Luck of a Brave Boy by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER XIII--JIU-JITSU

  "Come on," ordered Gus to Andy, unfastening the end of the rope andgiving it a jerk.

  "Hey, not that way," dissented Dale.

  "Why not?"

  "Think you can parade him through the town without attracting attention?We've got to be careful to cut out from here without a soul seeing ustill we strike a country road. You march," commanded Gus anew to hiscaptive, heading in another direction. "And you just so much as peep ifwe meet anybody, and you get a whack of this big stick."

  Andy submitted to circumstances. He figured out that it would be sometime before his captors could perfect their arrangements for interestingsome officer of the law in their scheme. He readily guessed that forsome reason or other they did not wish or dare to return personally toPrinceville. Andy calculated that it was nearly ten miles to the countyline. He believed he would have half a dozen chances to break away fromhis captors before they reached it.

  "Huh, what you going to do now?" inquired Gus in a grumbling tone, asthey came directly up against a high board fence.

  "You wait here a minute," directed Dale.

  The speaker ran down the fence in one direction to face at its end abusy field occupied by aviation tents. He tried the opposite directionto find matters still worse, for there the fence ended against a lightedstreet of the town.

  "What's beyond the fence?" inquired Gus.

  "Not much of anything--a sort of a prairie," reported Dale, peeringthrough a crack in the fence.

  "We can't scale it."

  "Not with Andy in tow. Here we are, though."

  Dale had discovered a loose board. He began tugging at its lower end,and succeeded in pulling it far enough out to admit of their crowdingthrough the opening. He went first, grabbing and holding Andy till Gusmade the passage.

  "Keep away from those lights over yonder," ordered Dale, indicating apoint on the broad expanse where some aeroplane tents showed. "This way,I tell you," he added in a hoarse, hurried whisper. "There's a man."

  Andy pushed forward, came to a dead halt, bracing himself as his captorstried to pull him out of range of a man seated on a hummock, apparentlywatching some night manoeuvres of airships over where the lights showed.

  "Mister, oh, mister!" shouted Andy.

  He received a blow on the mouth from the fist of Gus, but that did notprevent him from renewing the outcry. The man sprang quickly to his feetand came towards them.

  He was small, thin, dark-faced, and so undersized and effeminate-lookingthat Andy at once decided that he would not count for much in a tusslewith two stout, active boys. Dale thought so, too, evidently, for hesquared up in front of Andy, trying to hide him from the view of thestranger, while Gus attempted to pull his captive back towards thefence. Andy, however, gave a jerk that drew Gus almost off his feet, anda bunt to Dale that sent him forcibly to one side.

  "What is this?" spoke the stranger in a soft, mellow, almost womanlytone of voice. "Did some one then call?"

  "It was I," proclaimed Andy. "These fellows have tied me up and aretrying to kidnap me."

  "It is wrong, I will so investigate," said the little man, comingstraight up to the group and scanning each keenly in turn.

  "See here," spoke Dale, springing in front of the man, "this is none ofyour business."

  "Oh, yes, it is," returned the stranger in the same gentle, purring way."I am interested. Speak on, young man."

  "Get him away!" directed Dale in a sharp whisper to Gus.

  Then, quick as lightning, he made a pass at the stranger. He was doublethe weight of the latter and half a head taller. Andy expected to seehis champion flatten out like the weakling he looked.

  "Ah," said the latter, "it is so you answer questions. My way, then."

  What he did he did so quickly that Andy could not follow all of hismovements. The hands of the little man moved about like those of anexpert weaver at the loom. The result was a marvel. In some way hecaught Dale around the neck. The next moment he swung him from theground past his shoulder and his adversary landed with a thump.

  Gus dropped the rope and ran at the stranger, club uplifted. Again thewiry strength of the little man was exerted. He seemed to stoop, and hisarms enclosed Gus about the hips. There was a tug and tussle. Gus waswrenched from his footing, and went skidding to the ground, face down,for nearly two yards.

  "Thunder!" he shouted, wiping the sand from his mouth.

  THE WIRY STRENGTH OF THE LITTLE MAN WAS EXERTED]

  "Go," said the stranger, advancing upon the prostrate twain, whoscrambled promptly to their feet.

  Both dove for the loose plank in the fence and disappeared through it.The stranger drew out a pocket-knife and relieved Andy of his bonds.

  "I look at you and then at those two," he said simply, "and your facetells me the true story. Where would you go?"

  Andy pointed in the direction of the Parks' Aerodome, and the man walkedby his side in its direction.

  "I don't care to have those fellows find out where I am working,"explained Andy. "Mister," he added admiringly, "how did you do it?"

  "It was simple jiu-jitsu."

  "Eh? Oh, yes, I've heard of that," said Andy, but vaguely. "It's a newJapanese wrestling trick, isn't it?"

  "I am from Japan," observed his companion with a courteous dignity ofmanner that impressed Andy.

  "I see," nodded Andy, "and you come from a wonderful people."

  "We strive to learn," replied his companion. "That is why I am here. Iwas sent to this country to study aeronautics. Besides that, the sciencehas a peculiar attraction for me. My father was chief kite maker to thefamily of the Mikado."

  "Is it possible?" said Andy.

  "I therefore have an absorbing interest in your airmen and their daringwork. You must know that we make wonderful kites in my home country."

  "I have heard something of it," said Andy.

  "Two hundred years ago many of the principles now used in your airshipswere used in our kite flying, only we never tried to fly ourselves."

  "We have a gentleman up at our camp who would be just delighted to talkwith you," declared Andy enthusiastically. "He is an inventor, a Mr.Morse."

  "I should like to meet him," said the Japanese.

  "Then come right along with me," invited Andy cordially; "only, say,please, don't mention the fix you found me in."

  "It shall be so," declared his companion.

  Andy made sure that his recent captors were not following them as theymade a cut across a field and reached the Parks' camp. He led his guestinto the sitting room of the living building, to find his employer andMr. Morse there. Andy introduced his companion. It did not take long forthe inventor to discover a kindred spirit in the Japanese, who gave hisname as Tsilsuma.

  That night after he had got into bed Andy wondered if he had not bettertell Mr. Morse or his employer his entire story, and the former aboutthe near proximity of his old-time enemy, Duske. Then, too, he worriedsome over the appearance of Gus and Dale and his daily risk of beingarrested. With daylight, however, Andy forgot all these minor troubles.

  There was to be a race for a small prize that afternoon on the aviationfield, and Parks had arranged for the _Racing Star_ to participate. Theaeronaut was busy half the morning seeing to the machine, while Mr.Morse flitted about adjusting a device suggested by the intelligentTsilsuma for folding the floats under the aeroplane. The Japanese, too,had suggested sled runners in front and wheels at the rear for startinggear.

  The _Racing Star_ had not appeared in the general field before, and thiswas a kind of qualification flight. Just after two o'clock Parks madehis final inspection of the bearings of the motors and the word to gowas given. Andy sailed over the railroad tracks and landed in the fieldhalf a mile distant, with a dexterity that made his rivals there take agood deal of notice of him and the _Racing Star_.

  When the word came Andy started the motor, and a friend of the aeronauttugged at the propellers. With a blast that resembled a cyclone theairship started.
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  The helpers worked at the rudders, and after a run of only seventy-fivefeet the _Racing Star_ shot up into the air.

  Andy tried a preliminary stunt that he had practiced for two days past.It was to fly around the field in a figure eight at a height ofninety-five feet. Then, just to test the excellency of the machine, heplunged for the ground.

  "The boy will kill himself!" shouted the man in charge of the race, butjust at the critical moment Andy shifted his steering planes and flewacross the ground, barely skimming the grass.

  Once in this fashion he went around the course, then another upwardlunge and he circled back to the starting point and came gently toearth. The crowds sent up an enthusiastic roar.

  Four other machines made their exhibition in turn. Two went through aclumsy process, one became disabled, and the other retired with thederisive criticism of "Grasshopper!" as its pilot failed to lift it morethan ten feet from the ground at any time.

  "Mind the wind checks, Andy, lad," warned John Parks anxiously, as thethree aeroplanes were ranged for the prize test of a mile run around thecourse.

  "I'll be the pathfinder or nothing!" declared Andy, his eyes bright andobservant, his nerves tingling with the excitement of the moment.

  "Go!"

  The three powerful mechanical birds arose in the air, dainty creationsof grace and beauty, Andy in the lead. Then his nearest competitorpassed him. Then No. 3 shot ahead of the other two, and then the turn.

  "Huzza!" breathed Parks.

  At his side, safe from recognition in his great disfiguring goggles, Mr.Morse moved restlessly from foot to foot. The _Racing Star_ hadaccomplished what he had worked so hard to bring about--a true circle ina rapid turn.

  The two other machines bungled. One nearly upset. Down the course cameAndy, headed like an arrow for the starting point. A slanting dive, andthe _Racing Star_ skimmed the ground fully five hundred feet in advanceof the nearest opponent.

  Watch in hand, John Parks ran up to Andy, his face aglow withprofessional pride and delight.

  "Won the race--but better than that you have beat the home record byeight seconds!"

  "Winner, the _Racing Star_," sang out the starter.

  And then he added:

  "Time: forty-eight seconds and seven-eighths."

  "Hurrah!" shouted John Parks, throwing his hat in the air.