Airship Andy; Or, The Luck of a Brave Boy by Frank V. Webster
CHAPTER XXIII--THE GREAT RACE
"Hurrah!"
"Why, it's only a boy!"
"Parks' man--get your rest, lad, while we see to things."
Andy found himself in a whirl of motion and excitement. When he had leftthe island where he had sacrificed his time and risked his chances ofwinning the race, he had discovered that he was fourth on the programme.The _Flash_ was becoming a distant speck, and the two other contestingbiplanes were lagging after the leader.
Andy now set a pace to force the _Racing Star_ to do its utmost. Hisgood knowledge of detail as to the machinery and his masterlymanipulation of the same soon brought results. The _Racing Star_ easilypassed two of the airships ahead. Then Andy ran neck-and-neck with thepilot train for several miles.
The _Flash_, however, kept up admirable speed, but finally a wing brokeor oil ran out at Wayne, and the operator descended to a relief station.
Now was Andy's chance, and he made the most of it. With thoseinspiriting shouts of "Hurrah! Why, it's only a boy!" and theannouncement from the relay posted at Springfield by Parks that theywere on hand to tank up the _Racing Star_ and adjust the machinery, Andylanded at the outskirts of the city, just half the race distancecovered.
It made him quite dizzy-headed to sail down along a vast sea of humanbeings, wild with enthusiasm at greeting the leader so far in the race.
Two men took entire charge of the _Racing Star_, with quick movements,tanking, oiling the cylinders, testing every part of it. A third manbrought Andy a tray containing a cup of steaming coffee, one of beeftea, and some crackers.
"There she comes!"
"Hurrah No. 2!"
"The _Flash_!"
"And there she goes!"
"All aboard, Parks," sang out the leader of the relay gang, and with aglide and a whiz the _Racing Star_ was once more up in the air.
Again the _Flash_ was in the lead. Having been supplied with fuel andoil at its recent stop, the operator did not make any halt at theturning post. Andy felt fresh and ambitious, and the _Racing Star_responded loyally to every touch of wheel and lever.
Fifty feet from the ground a wheel dropped from place, but Andy paid noattention to this. The train did not act as pilot on the return trip.Instead, at intervals of five miles to indicate stations, smudges werebeing sent aloft. Andy made a direct run for the first one of these,mapping out his route from those dimly visible on the course ahead.
At Dover Andy passed the _Flash_. For the next five miles they keptpretty well abreast.
The last smudge was about eight miles from Montrose. Andy flew past itmaking a circular turn as he plainly made out the aviation field in thedistance. His competitor made a short cut, lost on a turn to strike thestraight course and Andy overtook him.
Now it was that Andy tensioned up the splendid machine to its highestpower. The white expanse of canvas and wood shivered and trembled underan unusual strain.
"In the lead!" cried Andy in delight, and his eyes sparkled through thegoggles as he took a swift backward glance. The _Flash_ was bungling.Its progress was a wobble and its operator was at fault in striking aneven balance.
The speed of the _Racing Star_ had now been increased to its utmost.
"Five minutes more, six at the most, will decide the race," breathedAndy. "I can't lose now."
The _Racing Star_ was no longer a bird afloat, but an arrow. Giving tothe machine a certain slant, calculating to a foot how and where hewould land, Andy saw nothing, thought of nothing, but the home post.
He was conscious of a frightful bolt downwards that fairly took hisbreath away. There was a blur of flying fences, buildings, tents, agreen expanse, a sea of human faces, a roar as a great shout went up,and the _Racing Star_ met the ground on a bounce, and Andy Nelson wasthe winner of the great race.
Our hero did not step from the airship as eager, willing hands eased the_Racing Star_ down to a stop. Cheering, excited men fairly pulled himover the drooping planes. Some one hugged him with a ringing yell ofdelight, and John Parks' voice sounded in his ears.
"Oh, you famous boy--Andy, my lad, it's the proudest moment of my life!"
Mr. Morse caught Andy's hand, his serious face flushed with pride.
"The _Racing Star_ did it," said Andy.
"Yo' did it, chile, and yo' did it brown," chimed in Scipio, his mouthexpanded in joyous delight from ear to ear.
John Parks never let go of Andy's arm as they made their way through thecrowds to the main aerodrome stand. The official starter had unscrewedthe speedometer and elevation gauge. He ran before them to the stand.Someone quickly chalked a legend on the big, bare blackboard. It ran:
Start of flight--10:04. Finish--11:39. Distance traveled--60 miles. Maximum height--1,200 feet. Wind velocity--12 miles from the west. Winner--Racing Star. Operator--Andy Nelson.
Somehow the boy aviator thrilled as he read his name at the bottom ofthe little legend.
"It's like a dream, Mr. Parks--just like a dream," and his voice wasfaint and dreamy in itself.
"Don't collapse, lad," directed the aeronaut anxiously--"the best is tocome."
"It's only the reaction," said Andy. "To think I did it--me, only Andy!"
"There isn't another Andy like you in the whole world," enthusiasticallydeclared Parks. "Yes, sir," as a man waved to him from the table on thegrand stand.
"Here's the check, Parks," notified the judge.
"Well, we've won it, haven't we?" chuckled the aeronaut.
"You have, and it's ready for you. A pretty piece of paper, hey--fivethousand dollars. Make it out to you?"
"I'll take it in two checks," answered Parks.
"Mr. Parks----" began Andy.
"There's only one check for the whole amount," replied the judge, "andonly the name left to be filled in."
"Oh, that's the way of it, eh?" said the aeronaut. "All right, fill itin John Parks and Andy Nelson. I reckon, Andy, I can't get thattwenty-five hundred dollars away from you without your signature."
He poked Andy in the ribs in jolly fun. He was all smiles and laughteras he shouted an order to Scipio to hurry home and get up the bestcelebration dinner he knew how. Then, Andy following him, he steppedforward to take the arm of Mr. Morse, and thus, the Japanese walkingwith Andy and congratulating him on his great feat, they crossed thefield away from the crowds.
Some one broke over the dead line ropes and made a dash after them,yelling loudly:
"Andy, oh, Andy Nelson!"
"Hold on there!" ordered an officer, trying to head off the trespasser.
"Silas Pierce!" exclaimed Andy.
"He goes with us, officer," called out Parks. "You bet you go with us,you grand old hero!" he cried, giving the farmer boy a joyful, friendlyslap on the shoulder.
"Yes, indeed," smiled Andy, catching the arm of Silas and hugging itquite, "if it hadn't been for you, there would have been no race."
"Andy," gasped Silas, "I can hardly believe it. Why you're famous."
"Am I?" smiled Andy.
"And rich."
"Rich in good friends, anyway," replied Andy.
"I hung around. When I saw you coming in on the lead, I nearly fell flatI was so excited," declared Silas.
"I want a chance for a little talk with you, Silas," said Andy. "I wantto show you how much I appreciate what you have done for me."
The merry, happy coterie crossed the field, and coming out at a gatemade a short cut for the Parks camp. They had just neared it, when amongthe crowd thronging about the place, Andy made out a boy edging towardshim.
He crowded past several persons and came up to Andy's side and caughthis sleeve.
"Andy," he said in a bold but sheepish way, "you know me, don't you?"
"Why, yes, I know you," answered Andy.
He stared in mingled surprise, perplexity and distrust at the speaker.
It was Dale Billings. Hungry-faced, unkempt looking, as if he had notslept for a week, and then in a hay mow or a freight car. Andy'sold-time enem