"Hold on there, old boy! Don't let go!" begged Dick of his pet, who swung to and fro, dangling like some grotesque pendulum over the side of the airship. "Hold on, Grit!"
And Grit held on, you may be sure of that. His jaws were made for just that purpose. The dog made queer gurgling noises in his throat, for he dare not open his mouth to bark. Probably he knew just what sort of death would await him if he dropped into the vast space below him.
"How we going to get him up?" asked Larry.
"I'll show you!" cried Dick, as he stretched out at full length on the deck, and made his way to the edge where his head and shoulders projected over the dizzying space. The airship was still rushing on.
"Grab his legs—somebody!" exclaimed Paul. "I'll sit on you, Dick!"
"That's right! Anchor me down, old man!" Dick cried. "I'm going to get Grit!"
"Are you going to make a landing to save him?" asked Larry.
"No, though I would if I had to," Dick replied. "I'm just going to haul him up by the rope. Keep a good hold, old boy!" he encouraged his pet, and Grit gurgled his answer.
And then Dick, leaning over the edge of the deck, while Paul sat on his backward-stretched legs to hold him in place, hauled up the bulldog hand over hand, by means of the rope the intelligent animal had so fortunately grasped.
Inch by inch Grit was raised until Larry, who had come to the edge to help Dick, reached out, and helped to haul the dog in.
"There he is!" cried Dick, as he slid back.
"Well, old boy, you had a close call!"
Grit let go the rope and barked. And then a strange fit of trembling seized him. It was the first time he had ever showed fear. He never ventured near the edge of the deck again, always taking a position as near the centre as possible, and lying down at full length, to prevent any danger of sliding off. And he never went out on the deck unless Dick went also, feeling, I suppose, that he wanted his master near in case of accidents.
"Say, that was some little excitement," remarked the young millionaire, as he wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. "I thought poor old Grit was sure a goner."
"It did look so," admitted Paul. "He's an intelligent beast, all right."
"Takes after me," laughed Dick. "Well, let's see how Innis made out while we were at the rescue."
"I was all ready to send her down quick, if you'd given the word," said the cadet in the pilot house, when the party went inside the cabin.
"But she's still on her course," he added, after a glance at the compass.
"I'm glad we didn't have to go down," Dick remarked. "As we only have two landings we can make I want to save my reserve until we are actually forced to use it. I wonder about where we are, anyhow? Let's make a calculation."
By figuring out the rate of speed, and comparing the elapsed time, and then by figuring on a scale map, it was estimated, as dusk settled down, that they were about on the border line between Pennsylvania and Ohio.
"We'll cross the state of Ohio tonight," spoke Dick, "and by morning we ought to be in Indiana. Not so bad, considering that we haven't really pushed the machine to the limit yet, except in that little brush with the other airships."
"Yes, we are doing very well," said Mr. Vardon. "I wonder how some of our competitors are making out? I'd like to get some news of them."
"So would I," went on Dick. "Particularly my Uncle Ezra."
Had he but known it, Mr. Larabee, in his airship with Larson and the army man, was following close after him. For really the big biplane, with the mercury stabilizers, which Larson had constructed, was a fine craft, and capable. That Larson had cheated Mr. Larabee out of considerable money in the building had nothing to do with the working of the apparatus. But of Uncle Ezra and his aircraft more later.
"We'll get some news the first landing we make," suggested Lieutenant McBride.
"Well, I would like to get news all right," admitted Dick. "But I don't want to go down until I have to. Now for supper. Anything you fellows would like, especially?"
"Green turtle soup for mine!" sung out Larry.
"I'll have pickled eels' feet," laughed Innis, who had relinquished the wheel to Mr. Vardon. "Wait a bit, Dick, and I'll drop a line overboard and catch a few."
"And I'll see if I can't shoot a mock turtle," came from Paul.
"Nothing but roast turkey for mine," insisted Lieutenant McBride. "But I guess we'll have to compromise on capsule soup and condensed sandwiches."
"Oh, I can give you canned chicken," promised the young millionaire, "and perhaps I can make it hot for you."
"Not too much tabasco sauce though, the way you dosed up the stuff for the last Freshman dinner!" objected Paul. "I ate some of that by mistake, and I drank nothing but iced water for a week after."
"That's right—it was a hot old time!" cried Dick, with a laugh at the recollection.
As space was rather limited on board the airship, no ice could be carried, and, in consequence no fresh meats were available except for the first few hours of travel. Of course, when a landing was to be made, another limited supply could be laid in, but, with only two descents to earth allowed, this would not help much.
However, as the trip was going to be a comparatively short one, no one minded the deprivation from the usual bountiful meals that, somehow, one seemed to associate with the young millionaire.
A good supply of "capsule" food was carried. In making up his larder Dick had consulted Lieutenant McBride, who had given him a list of the highly nutritious and condensed food used in the army.
While such food was not the most appetizing in the world, it could be carried in a small space, was easily prepared, and would sustain life, and provide working energy, fully as long as the more elaborate dishes, which contain a large amount of waste materials.
Soon the electric stove was aglow, and on it Dick got up a tasty supper. Innis insisted on helping his chum, though it was Dick's turn to play cook.
"You just can't keep out of the kitchen; can you?" asked Dick, of the stout cadet. "You always want to be around where eating is going on."
"Well, the only way to be sure of a thing, is to do it yourself," said Innis. "I would hate to have this fine appetite of mine go to waste."
It was quite dark when they sat at supper, for some slight defect manifested itself in one of the small motors just as they were about to eat, and it had to be repaired at once.
But, gathered about the folding table, with the electric lights aglow overhead, there was little indication among the party of aviators that they were in one of the most modern of skycraft, sailing a mile above the earth, and shooting along at fifty miles an hour. So easy was the motion of the Abaris, and so evenly and smoothly did she glide along, due to the automatic action of the gyroscope stabilizer, that it really seemed as if they were standing still—floating between heaven and earth.
Of course there was the subdued hum of the great propellers outside, and the throb of the powerful gasolene motor, but that was all that gave an idea of the immense force contained in the airship.
From time to time Lieutenant McBride made notes for future use. He had to report officially to the war department just how this type of airship behaved under any and all circumstances. Then, too, he was interested personally, for he had taken up aviation with great enthusiasm, and as there were not many army men in it, so far, he stood a good chance for advancement.
"The possibilities of aeroplanes in time of war are only beginning to be understood," he said. "Of course there has been a lot of foolish talk about them, and probably they will not be capable of doing all that has been claimed for them, as yet. But they will be of immense value for scouting purposes, if for nothing else. In rugged and mountainous countries, an aviator will be under no difficulties at all, and can, by hovering over the enemy's camp, get an idea of the defenses, and report back.
"Thus it will be possible to map out a plan of attack with every chance of success. There will be no time lost, and lives may be saved from useless exposure."
"Do you think airships will ever carry light artillery, or drop bombs on an enemy?" asked Dick.
"Well, you could carry small artillery aboard here if you didn't have so much company," answered the army man. "It is all a question of weight and size. However, I believe, for the present, the most valuable aid airships will render will be in the way of scouting. But I don't want to see a war just for the sake of using our airships. Though it is well to be prepared to take advantage of their peculiar usefulness."
After supper they prepared to spend their first night aboard the airship on her prize-winning attempt. They decided to cut down the speed a little.
"Not that there's much danger of hitting anything," Dick explained, "though possibly Uncle Ezra and Larson might come up behind and crash into us. But at slower speed the machinery is not so strained, and there is less likelihood of an accident."
"That's right," agreed Mr. Vardon. "And an accident at night, especially when most of us are asleep, is not so easily handled as when it occurs in daylight. So slow her down, Dick."
The motor was set to take them along at thirty miles an hour, and they descended until they were fifteen hundred feet above the earth, so in case of the Abaris becoming crippled, she would not have to spend much time in making a landing.
Everything was well looked to, and then, with Dick and Mr. Vardon taking the first watch, the others turned in. And they were so tired from the rather nervous excitement of the day of the start, that they were soon asleep. Dick and the aviator took turns at the wheel, and attended to the necessary adjustments of the various machines.
It might seem strange for anyone to sleep aboard a moving airship, but, the truth of the matter was, that our friends were realty worn out with nervous exhaustion. They had tired themselves out, not only physically, but mentally, and sleep was really forced on them. Otherwise they might not have slumbered at all.
It was shortly past midnight when Dick, who, in spite of his attempts to keep awake, had partly dozed off, was suddenly aroused by a howl from Grit.
"What—what's the matter, old boy?" he asked. "In trouble again?"
There came another and louder howl. "Where is he?" asked Mr. Vardon, looking in from the pilot-house.
"I can't see him," Dick answered. "Can he be out on deck?"
A moment later there was a flash as of lightning, within the cabin, and Grit mingled his howls and barks as though in great pain.
"Something's wrong!" cried the aviator. "Look about, Dick, I can't leave the wheel. We seem to be going down!"
The young millionaire sprang up and leaped toward the place where he had heard Grit howling. The next moment Dick laughed in a relieved fashion.
"Where are those rubber gloves?" he asked.
"Rubber gloves?" repeated Mr. Vardon.
"Yes. Grit has gotten tangled up in the little dynamo that runs the headlight, and he's short-circuited. He can stand more of a shock than I can. I want to get him off the contacts. Where are the gloves?"
The aviator directed Dick to where the insulating gauntlets were kept, and in another moment Grit was pulled away from the contact. He had been unable to move himself, just as when one grasps the handles of a galvanic battery the muscles become so bound as to be incapable of motion.
Fortunately the current, while it made Grit practically helpless, for the time, was not strong enough to burn, or otherwise injure him. He gave a howl of protest at the accident, as Dick released him, and shuffled off to his kennel, after fawning on his master.
"One of the wires has some of the insulation off—that's what caused the trouble," Dick explained. "I'll wind some tape on it until we have time to put in a new conductor."
"Grit seems to be getting the worst end of it this trip," said Paul, who had been awakened by the commotion.
"Yes, he isn't much used to airships," agreed Dick. "But you'd better turn in, Paul. You've got an hour yet before it's your turn at the wheel."
"Oh, better let me have it now. I'm awake, and I can't get to sleep again. Turn in yourself."
Which Dick was glad enough to do, as he was quite tired. The remainder of the night passed without incident, and when morning came the airship was put at her former speed, fifty miles an hour. That may not sound very fast, but it must be remembered that this rate had to be kept up for sixty hours straight, perhaps.
After breakfast the wire that had shocked Grit was renewed, and then some observations were taken to determine their position. It was calculated they were about halfway across Indiana by noon.
The afternoon was slowly waning, and they were preparing for their second night of the prize trip, congratulating themselves that they had not yet been forced to descend.
Suddenly Larry, who was at the wheel, uttered a cry of alarm.
"Something's wrong!" he shouted. "I can't steer her on the course any longer. She's heading North instead of West."
Dick and Mr. Vardon rushed to the pilot-house. A glance at the compass confirmed Larry's statement. The aviator himself took the wheel, but it was impossible to head the craft West. She pointed due North.
"The horizontal rudder is out of gear!" cried Dick.
"Yes, and we'll have to go down to fix it," said Mr. Vardon, after a quick inspection. "Boys, we've got to make our first landing! It's too bad, but it might be worse."
Unsuccessfully they tried to make repairs to the horizontal rudder without going down, but it was not to be. The airship was being sent farther and farther along on a Northern course, taking her far out of her way. And more time and distance might thus be lost than by descending, making repairs, and going on again.
"Well, I did hope we'd cover at least half the trip before we had to go down," Dick said, and his tone was regretful. "Try once more and see if we can't get her back on the course."
But the horizontal guide—by which I mean the apparatus that sent the craft to left or right—was hopelessly jammed. To try to force it might mean a permanent break.
"Take her down," Dick finally gave the order, as captain. "What sort of a landing-place is below us?"
"We're too far up to see," said Mr. Vardon.
"And I hope we have the luck to be above open country. We can't go to left or right except in the smallest degree, so we'll have to land wherever Fate disposes. We are all right on going up or down, but not otherwise."
The vertical rudder was now depressed, and on a long slant Dick's airship was sent down. Lower and lower she glided, and soon an indistinct mass appeared. It was almost dusk, and no details could be made out. Then, as she went lower what appeared to be a gray cloud showed.
"There's a bank of fog below us," declared Paul.
"Or else it's the smoke of Pittsburg," said Innis.
"We left Pittsburg behind long ago," Larry returned. "Why!" he cried, as the gray foglike mass became more distinct. "That's water—that's what it is!"
"Water!" exclaimed Dick. "Can we have gone in the wrong direction, and be back over the Atlantic?"
"Or the Pacific?" suggested Larry with a laugh.
"No such good luck as that! We haven't had time to cross the continent yet," declared Dick. "But what water can it be?"
"Oh, some small lake," spoke Paul.
"It isn't a small lake—it's a big one—an inland sea," was Dick's opinion, as they settled lower and lower.
"It's Lake Michigan, that's what it is!" shouted Larry, after a quick glance at the map. "Fellows, we're over Lake Michigan!"
"And we're going to be IN it—or on it—in a little while, I'm thinking," Lieutenant McBride said, grimly. "Are you ready for a bath?"
"There won't be any trouble about that," answered Dick. "The hydroplanes will take care of us. I only hope it isn't too rough to make a safe landing."
Paul took a telescope from the rack, and, going out on the deck, looked down. The next moment he reported:
"It's fairly calm. Just a little swell on."
"Then we'd better get ready to lower the hydroplanes," went on Dick, with a look at the aviator.
"That's the best thing to do," decided Mr. Vardon. "We'll see how they'll work in big water."
The hydroplanes, which were attached to the airship near the points where the starting wheels were made fast, could be lowered into place by means of levers in the cabin. The hydroplanes were really water-tight hollow boxes, large and buoyant enough to sustain the airship on the surface of the water. They could be lowered to a point where they were beneath the bicycle wheels, and were fitted with toggle-jointed springs to take up the shock.
Lieutenant McBride took out his watch, and with pad and pencil prepared to note the exact moment when the airship should reach the surface of the lake.
"I shall have to take official notice of this," he said. "It constitutes your first landing, though perhaps it would be more correct to call it a watering. As soon as you are afloat, your elapsed time will begin, and it will count until you are in the air again. You will probably be some time making repairs."
"No longer than we can help," said Dick. "I don't want Uncle Ezra, or anybody else, to get ahead of me."
Down and down sank the Abaris, on her first descent from the cloud-land since her auspicious start. But, as Dick admitted, it might be worse. The accident itself was a comparatively slight one.
"Get ready, everybody!" called Mr. Vardon, as he saw that, in a few seconds more, they would be on the surface of the water.
"Do you fear something will go wrong?" asked Larry, quickly.
"Well, we've never tried the hydroplanes in rough water, and there is always the chance for an accident. Stand out where you can jump, if you have to," he directed.
Lieutenant McBride was standing with his watch out, ready to note the exact second of landing. He knew he must be officially correct, though he would give Dick every possible chance and favor.
"Here we go!" came the cry from the aviator. "Only a few seconds now!"
They could plainly see the heaving waters of the big lake. Fortunately it was comparatively calm, though once she had landed the airship could stand some rough weather afloat.
Splash! went the hydroplanes into the water. The springs took up the shock and strain, and the next moment Dick's craft was floating easily on the great lake. The landing had been made without an accident to mar it.
"Good!" cried Lieutenant McBride, as he jotted down the time. "Do you know how long you have been, so far, Dick, on the trip?"
"How long?"
"Just thirty-five hours, four minutes and eight seconds!" was the answer.
"Over half the estimated time gone, and we re only a third of the way there!" exclaimed the young millionaire. "I'm afraid we aren't going to do it, Mr. Vardon."
"Well, I'm not going to give up yet," the aviator answered, grimly. "This is only a start. We haven't used half our speed, and when we get closer to the finish we can go a hundred and twenty-five miles an hour if we have to—for a spurt, at any rate. No, I'm not giving up."
"Neither am I," declared Dick, for he was not of the quitting sort.
Floating on the surface of Lake Michigan was like being on the ocean, for they were out of sight of land, and there were no water craft in view. The Abaris seemed to have the lake to herself, though doubtless beyond the wall of the slight haze that hemmed her in there were other vessels.
"Well, now to see what the trouble is," suggested Dick. "It must be somewhere in the connecting joints of the levers, for the rudder itself seems to be all right."
"But we'd better begin out there and make sure," suggested Mr. Vardon. He pointed to the rudder, which projected some distance back of the stern of the aircraft.
"How you going to get at it to inspect it?" asked Paul. "It isn't as if we were on solid ground."
"And no one has long enough a reach to stretch to it from the deck," added Innis.
"You forget our collapsible lifeboat," Dick answered. One of those useful craft was aboard the airship. It could be inflated with air, and would sustain a considerable weight.
"I'll go out in that and see what's the trouble," Dick went on. "It will tell us where we've got to begin."
"Perhaps we had better wait until morning," suggested Lieutenant McBride. "It is fast getting dark, and you can do much better work in daylight. Besides, you are not pressed for time, as your stay here will not count against you. I think you had better wait until morning."
"And stay here all night?" asked Dick.
"I think so. You have proved that your hydroplanes are all right. Why not rest on the surface of the lake until morning? You can't anchor, it is true, but you can use a drag, and there seems to be no wind, so you will not be blown ashore. Besides, you can, to a certain extent, control yourself with the propellers."
"I think we will wait then," decided the young millionaire captain. "As you say we can make a drag anchor to keep us from drifting too much."
By means of a long rope a drag anchor was tossed out at the stern of the aircraft. This would serve to hold her back. Then, as nothing further could be done, preparations were made for supper.
"Well, this aeroplaning has its ups and downs," said Paul, with a laugh, as he sat at table. "Last night we were eating up in the air, and now we're on the water."
"And it's lucky we're not IN the water!" exclaimed Innis. "Regular Hamilton luck, I call it."
"No, it's Vardon luck," Dick insisted. "He planned the hydroplanes that made it possible."
Lights were set aglow to show the position of the craft on the water.
"We don't want to be run down in the night," Dick said, as he noted the red and green side lights as well as the white ones at bow and stern. For, in the water, the Abaris was subject to the same rules as were other lake craft. It was only when in the air that she was largely a law unto herself.
The night passed quietly enough, though it came on to blow a little toward morning. But the drag anchor worked well.
"And now for the repairs," cried Dick, after breakfast, as he and his chums got out the collapsible boat. It was blown up, and in it Dick and Mr. Vardon paddled out to the stern rudders.
They were examining the universal joint, by which the apparatus was deflected when Dick suddenly became aware of a wet feeling about his feet, and a sinking feeling beneath him. He looked down, and found that the boat, in which he and Mr. Vardon were standing, was going down. Already it was half filled with water.
"More trouble!" cried Dick. "I guess we'll have to swim for it!"
There was no doubt about it. The little craft was going down. Later it was learned that a leaky valve had allowed the air to escape, and a break in the boat's rubber sides had let in the water.
"Come on!" cried Dick. "Overboard, Mr. Vardon!"
There was really little danger, as both of them could swim, though if they did not jump out they might be carried down with the boat.
So, overboard went Dick and his aviator. The collapsible boat sank with the downward impulse given it when they leaped out, but as it was moored to the airship by a cable it could be recovered.
"Say, what is this—a swimming race?" asked Paul, as he tossed Dick a rope, a like service being performed for Mr. Vardon by Innis.
"Looks like it—doesn't it?" agreed the young millionaire. "I should have tested that boat before we went out in it," he added, as he clambered up, Grit frisking and barking about him in delight.
"Yes, that's where we made the mistake," agreed Mr. Vardon. "That rubber must have been cut as it was packed away. Well, we can easily mend it, so no great harm is done."
By means of the cable, the sunken boat was pulled to the airship, and when the water was allowed to run out it was hauled aboard. Then it was examined, the leak found, and the craft was placed out in the sun to dry, after which it could be mended.
"Well, we can't do anything but wait," said Dick, after he had changed into dry garments. "The break is out on that part of the rudder that's over the water. We can't reach it without the boat."
"Then, while we're waiting let's have a swim," proposed Paul. "It will do us all good."
"And then we can do some fishing," added Innis. "I'd like some nice broiled fish. Did you bring any tackle along, Dick?"
"No, I'm sorry to say I didn't."
"Then I'll have to rig up some. I'll use some cold canned chicken for bait."
"What about a hook?" asked Lieutenant McBride, with a smile.
"Well, anybody who can build an airship ought to be able to make a fish hook. I'm going to call on Dick for that," went on Innis.
"I guess I can file you out one from a bit of steel wire," answered the young millionaire.
This was done, after some little labor, and with several of the improvised barbs, and bait from some of the canned goods, a fishing party was organized. There was plenty of string, and for leaders, so that the fish would not bite off the hooks, Innis used some spare banjo strings. He had brought his instrument along with him.
The swim was much enjoyed, for the day was warm. The young aviators sported around in the cool waters of the lake, and several little spurting races were "pulled off," to use a sporting term.
I cannot say that the fishing was very successful. A few were caught, but I imagine the bait used was not just proper. It is difficult to get canned chicken to stick on a hook, unless you use a piece of gristle. But some good specimens were caught, and were served for dinner, being fried on the electric stove.
All this while the airship floated tranquilly on the surface of the lake. Several vessels came near, attracted by the strange sight of Dick's craft, but, by means of a megaphone they were kindly asked not to approach too near, as the least contact with one of the heavier craft would damage the Abaris. Through the captain of one craft Dick sent a message to his father, and Larry a story to his paper.
"Well, I think that boat must be dry enough to mend now," said Dick, some time after dinner. "We don't want to spend another night here if we can help it."
"No, for the weather might not always be as calm as it is now. The barometer is falling, and that means a storm, sooner or later," spoke Mr. Vardon. "And these lake storms can be pretty had when they try."
It was found that the collapsible boat was dry enough to patch up, and by means of a rubber cement the hole in the side was closed.
The leaky intake valve was also repaired, and then, when the peculiar craft was blown up and tested, it was found to be all right.
"Now we'll have another try at fixing that rudder," said Dick, as he and the aviator started once more to paddle to the stern of the aircraft.
This time all went well. No water came in the rubber boat, and by standing up in it the two were able to learn the cause of the trouble with the rudder.
It was simple enough—a broken bolt making it impossible to turn it in a certain direction. As Dick had plenty of spare parts aboard, a new bolt was soon substituted for the fractured one, and then they were ready to proceed again.
"I've a suggestion to make," said Lieutenant McBride, when Dick was about to give the word to mount into the air again.
"What is it?" asked the young millionaire.
"Why not try your boat over the water? While it is not exactly a hydroplane, yet it has those attachments, and you can probably skim over the surface of the water as well as float on it. And that might come in useful in winning the prize.
"Of course the conditions call for an air flight from New York to San Francisco, but I believe, in case of emergency, a short water trip would not count against you? And you might have to make it some time."
"I'll see what we can do, at any rate," decided Dick. "We will probably never get a better chance than this. Come on, boys! We'll see how our hydroplanes act!" he called.
The only thing that was necessary to do was to start the motor that operated the propellers. The aircraft was at this time resting easily on the surface of Lake Michigan.
She would be driven forward by the propellers beating on the air, exactly as a sailboat it aided by the wind. Only, in her case, the Abaris would furnish her own motive power.
In anticipation of some time having to navigate on the water, a small auxiliary rudder had been attached to Dick's craft. This rudder went down into the water, and would be used in steering in conjunction with those used when she was in the air.
This wooden rudder was now dropped into the water, tested, and found to answer properly to the lever which, in the pilot-house, controlled it by means of wire ropes.
"Well, let her go!" cried Dick, "and we'll see what sort of luck we'll have."
"Which way?" asked Mr. Vardon, who was at the wheel.
"Why not head for Chicago?" suggested Lieutenant McBride. "We can't be a great way from there, according to the map, and that would be a good place to make the new start from."
"I think it would be," agreed Dick, "if that would be covering the conditions of the contest."
"Well, you can easily travel back enough to make up any shortage in miles," the army man went on. "You still have plenty of time."
So this was agreed to, and, after a look over the craft to make sure there were no defects, Mr. Vardon pulled over the lever of the starting motor.
With a hum and a buzz, the propellers started, and this time the Abaris shot forward on the surface of the water, instead of up into the air.
"She's going!" cried Paul.
"She sure is doing it!" yelled Innis.
"Yes, I think she's as successful on the waves as he was in the clouds," agreed Dick, as he looked at a speed-measuring gage. "We're hitting up forty miles an hour right now."
"And that's good speed for a craft of this size in the water, or, rather, on top of the water," declared Lieutenant McBride.
For a hydroplane craft, as you probably know, does not go through the water as a motor-boat does. A regular hydroplane is fitted with a series of graduated steps, and the front of the boat rises as it skims over the water. But all hydroplane craft are designed to slip over the surface of the water, and not to cleave through it. And it was the former that Dick's craft was doing.
Faster and faster speed was attained, until there could be no question about the second success of the young millionaire's airship. If ever occasion should require that he take to the water, in an emergency, it could be done.
"And now for Chicago!" Dick cried, when several hours had been spent in maneuvering about, each member of the party taking turns at steering. "And I think we'll go up in the air for that trip," he added.
"There's an aero club in the outskirts of Chicago," explained Lieutenant McBride. "I am a member of it, and I think we could make a call there. It would not be necessary to cross the city, and of course we will not land."
It was agreed that this would be a good plan, and Dick, taking the wheel, sent his craft ahead on the lake at fast speed.
"Here we go up!" he suddenly cried. Then, yanking over the lever of the elevating rudder, he sent the Abaris aloft. The rudder for sideway steering worked perfectly, now that repairs had been made.
Up, up into the air soared the big biplane, and from the lake she had left came a blast of saluting whistles from the water-craft that thus paid tribute to a sister vessel.
During the wait on the water Dick had purchased from a passing steamer a supply of gasolene and oil.
"Now we'll have enough so we won't have to land to take on any more," he said. "Our provisions are holding out well, and if nothing happens we can make the trip from here to San Francisco without stop."
"But we still have one landing to our credit if we need it," said Paul.
"Oh, yes, but I hope we don't have to use it," went on Dick. "It will be so much more to our credit if we don't."
The supposition that they were not far from Chicago proved correct, for when they had arisen above the mist that suddenly spread over Lake Michigan, they saw, in the distance, the Windy City.
A course was laid to circle about it, and not cross it, as that might complicate matters, and a little later they were within view of the aviation grounds, of which club Lieutenant McBride was a member.
He had said there might be a meet in progress, and this proved to be so. A number of biplanes and monoplanes were circling about, and the big crowd in attendance leaped to its feet in astonishment at the sight of the young millionaire's new and powerful craft.
It was not the intention of Dick and his chums to stop and make a landing, but they wanted to get some news of other competing craft which might be trying for the big prize. Accordingly a plan was evolved by which this could be done.
The lieutenant wrote out a brief account of their trip, telling of the stop, and to this Larry added a request that, after it had been read, it might be telegraphed to his paper. Then information was asked for in regard to aerial matters.
"But how are we going to get information from them?" asked Paul. "We can't get our wireless to working, we can't hear them, even with megaphones, wig-wagging won't do, and we're not going to land."
"I've asked them to send up a bunch of toy balloons, carrying any message they can send us," the lieutenant said. "I think we can manipulate our craft so as to grab some of the balloons as they float upward. I've seen it done."
Little time was lost over this. The message was dropped down in one of Larry's leather cylinders. It was seen to be picked up and while Dick and his friends circled about above the aviation grounds their note was read. An answer was hastily prepared to be sent up as Lieutenant McBride had suggested.
Meanwhile a number of the other aeroplanes whizzed past, close to Dick's.
"I hope they don't come so close that they'll collide with us," murmured the young millionaire. But the pilots were skillful. They tried to shout what were probably congratulations, or questions, at the trans-continental party, but the motors of the small biplanes made such a racket it was impossible to hear.
"Here come the balloons!" cried Dick, as he saw a group tied together floating upward. "Now to get them! You'd better handle her, Mr. Vardon."
"No, you do it, Dick. I'll stand out on deck and try to grab them."
"We can all reach from windows," suggested Paul, for there were windows in the cabin.
Dick was so successful in maneuvering his craft that Mr. Vardon had no trouble at all in catching the message-carrying toy balloons. The note was brief. It conveyed the greeting of the aero-club, and stated that a number of competing craft were on their way west.
"The Larabee leads, according to last reports," read Innis.
"That must be Uncle Ezra's machine," murmured Dick. "He's right after us. Well, we'd better get on our course again."
"I think so," agreed Mr. Vardon. The Abaris was sent in a Westerly direction once more, and those aboard settled down to what they hoped would be the last "lap" of the big race.
But matters were not destined to be as easy and comfortable as they hoped for. Soon after supper that night the wind sprang up. It increased in violence until, at ten o'clock, there was a howling gale, through which the airship had to fight her way with almost all her available power.
"Some wind!" cried Dick, when he went on duty, and, glancing at the gage noted it to be blowing at seventy miles an hour.
"Luckily it isn't altogether dead against us," said Mr. Vardon. "As it is, though, it's cutting down our speed to about twenty miles an hour, and I don't want to force the engine too much."
"No," agreed Dick. "It isn't worth while, especially as the gale is serving the other craft just as it is us."
There was small consolation, however, for those aboard Dick's craft, in the thought that other competing airships were in the same plight as themselves. For, as the night wore on, the wind seemed to increase in power. Only the mechanical strength of the Abaris enabled her to weather the storm.
"We could not possible do it were it not for the gyroscope stabilizer," declared Lieutenant McBride. "We would be on our beams ends all the while. It's a great invention."
"Well, this certainly is a good test of it," agreed Mr. Vardon, with pardonable pride.
Indeed, no more severe strain could have been put upon the apparatus. There would come a great gust of the tornado, and the ship would begin to heel over. But the marvelous power of the gyroscope would force her back again.
On through the night and through the gale went the airship. So severe was the storm that it was not deemed wise for any one to remain in his bunk. So everyone spent the hours of darkness in wakeful watching and waiting.
"We want to be ready to act in any emergency," explained Mr. Vardon. "There's no telling when something may give way under the strain."
"Well, then we ought to go over all the machinery every ten minutes or so, and see if anything is wrong," suggested Dick. "We might see the trouble starting in time to prevent it."
"Good idea!" cried the lieutenant. "We'll make periodical inspections. Everyone on the job, as the boys say."
The task of looking after the machinery was divided up among the young aviators, and, as the craft was swayed this way and that by the gale, eager and anxious eyes watched every revolution of the gear wheels, pistons were minutely inspected in the light of electric torches, and valves adjusted when they showed the least sign of going wrong.
Poor Grit seemed to be afraid, which was something new for him. He would not leave Dick for an instant, but kept at his heels, even when his master went near the sparking motors and dynamos, which the bulldog had good reason to fear. But now he seemed more afraid of something else than the machines that had shocked him.
"I wonder what's the matter?" spoke the young millionaire. "I never saw him act this way before. What is it, old boy?" he asked soothingly.
Grit whined uneasily.
"Sometimes animals have premonitions," said Mr. Vardon. "I remember once, in my early days of flying, I took a dog up with me.
"Everything seemed to be going along fine, but the dog showed signs of uneasiness, though it wasn't on account of the height, for he'd been up before. But it wasn't five minutes later before one of my propeller blades broke off, and I nearly turned turtle before I could make a landing."
"I hope nothing like that occurs now," said Larry. "It might make a good story, but it would be a mighty uncomfortable feeling."
"I don't anticipate anything," said the aviator. "We seem to be doing very well. But we are making scarcely any progress, and we are being blown considerably off our course."
"We'll make it up when the wind stops," Dick said. "I'm determined to win that prize!"
"This is a peculiar storm," Lieutenant McBride observed. "It seems to be nothing but wind. I'm inclined to think there had been an area of low pressure about this region, caused possibly by some other storm, and the air from another region is now rushing in, filling up the partial vacuum."
"In that case we might try to rise above it," suggested Mr. Vardon. "I've often done that. We could go up. It would not be advisable to go down any lower, as we don't want to run the risk of colliding with any mountains, and we are getting pretty well to the Northwest now. Suppose we try to go up?"
This was agreed on as a wise plan, and Dick, who was taking his turn at the wheel, shifted the rudder to send his craft up on a long slant.
But now a new difficulty arose. It seemed that the change in angle made a heavier wind pressure on the big planes, and the speed of the airship was reduced to a bare ten miles an hour. In fact she seemed almost stationary in the air, at times.
"This won't do!" cried Dick. "We've got to turn on more power, even if we do strain the machinery. We've got to have more speed than this!"
"That's right!" cried Mr. Vardon. "I'll turn 'em up, Dick."
And with the increased speed of the big motor that was whirling the propellers came increased danger of a break. Vigilance was redoubled, and they had their reward for their care.
"Here's something wrong!" cried Innis, as he passed a small dynamo that supplied current for the electric lights. "A hot bearing!" and he pointed to where one was smoking.
"Shut down! Quick!" cried Mr. Vardon. "Throw over the storage battery switch. That will run the lights until that shaft cools. It must have run out of oil."
The dynamo was stopped and as the storage battery was not powerful enough to operate all the lights for very long, only part of the incandescents were used, so that the interior of the ship was only dimly lighted.
"Use your portable electric torches to examine the machinery in the dark places," directed the aviator. "We'll use the dynamo again as soon it cools."
This machine, going out of commission, had no effect on the progress of the airship. She was still fighting her way upward, with Dick at the wheel, and Grit crouching uneasily near him. The dog gave voice, occasionally, to pitiful whines.
"What is it, old boy?" asked Dick. "Is something wrong?"
And Grit's manner showed very plainly that there was. But what it was no one could guess.
"How is she coming, Dick?" asked Innis, a little later. "Can I relieve you?"
"No, I'm not tired. It's only a nervous sort of feeling. I feel as if I were trying to push the airship along."
"I know how it is," murmured the cadet.
"But just take it easy. How is she doing?"
"Better, I think. We seem to be gaining a little. If we could only get above the gale we'd be all right. But it's hard forcing her up. I'd just like to know how Uncle Ezra is making out."
As a matter of fact, as Dick learned later, his relative had no easy time of it. He had gotten off in fair weather, and under good circumstances, but engine trouble developed after the first few hours, and, while he and Larson, with the army man, did not have to come down, they could only fly at slow speed.
"I don't know what's the matter with the thing," said Larson. "I'm afraid we'll have to use even a different carburetor."
"What! And spend more money!" cried Uncle Ezra. "I guess not! No, sir! Up to date this machine has cost me nigh on to eleven thousand dollars! I've got it all down."
"But you'll double your money, and have a fine machine to sell to the government," said Larson. "It will be all right. Give me money for a larger carburetor."
"Well, if I have to I have to, I suppose," sighed the miserly old man. "But try and make this one do."
It would not answer, however, and after trying in vain to get more speed out of the craft, Larson was obliged to use one of the two allowed descents, and go down to readjust the motor.
Then when a couple of days had elapsed, though of course this time was not counted any more than in the case of Dick, another start was made. The Larabee, as Uncle Ezra had called his craft, seemed to do better, and at times she showed a spurt of speed that amazed even Larson himself. They passed several who had started ahead of them.
"We're sure to get that prize!" he exulted.
"Well, I cal'alate if we don't there'll be trouble," declared Uncle Ezra, grimly.
Then they had run into the storm, as had Dick's craft, and several other competing ones, and Larson, the army man and Uncle Ezra were in great difficulties. But they forced their machine on.
Of course Dick and his friends knew nothing of this at the time, as several hundred miles then separated the two airships.
Onward and upward went the Abaris. Now and then she seemed to gain on the wind, but it was a hard struggle.
"I think we're going to do it, though," declared Dick, as he went about with the aviator, looking at and testing the various pieces of machinery. "Our speed has gone up a little, and the wind pressure seems less."
"It is; a little," agreed Mr. Vardon. "But what is worrying me is that we'll have a lot of lost time and distance to make up when we get out of this storm. Still, I suppose it can't be helped."
"Indeed not. We're lucky as it is," admitted the young millionaire. "But I'm going to get Innis and make some coffee. I think it will do us all good."
The electric stove was soon aglow, and a little later the aromatic odor of coffee pervaded the cabin of the airship. Some sandwiches were also made.
And thus, while the craft was fighting her way through the gale, those aboard ate a midnight lunch, with as good appetites as though they were on solid ground. For, in spite of the fact that they were in the midst of danger, they were fairly comfortable. True the aircraft was tilted upward, for she was still climbing on a steep slant, but they had gotten used to this. The gyroscope stabilizer prevented any rolling from side to side.
"Maybe Grit is hungry, and that's what's bothering him," said Dick, as he tossed the dog a bit of canned chicken. But though the animal was usually very fond of this delicacy, he now refused it.
"That's queer," mused Dick. "I can't understand that. Something surely must be wrong. I hope he isn't going to be sick."
"Had we better go any higher?" asked Innis, at the wheel, as he noted the hand on the gage. "We're up nearly nine thousand feet now, and—"
"Hold her there!" cried Mr. Vardon. "If we've gone up that far, and we haven't gotten beyond the gale, there isn't much use trying any more. We'll ride it out at that level."
Indeed the Abaris was very high, and some of the party had a little difficulty in breathing. Grit, too, was affected this way, and it added to his uneasiness.
"If we had some means of making the cabin air-tight we could make the air pressure in here just what we wanted it, regardless of the rarefied atmosphere outside," said Dick. "In my next airship I'll have that done."
"Not a bad idea," agreed Mr. Vardon. "It could be arranged."
The night was wearing on, and as the first pale streaks of dawn showed through the celluloid windows of the cabin it was noticed by the wind gage that the force of the gale was slacking.
"We've ridden it out!" exulted Dick. "She's a good old airship after all. Now we can get back on our course. We ought to be crossing the Rockies soon, and then for the last stage of the trip to San Francisco."
"Oh, we've got considerable distance yet to cover," said the aviator. "I fancy we were blown nearly five hundred miles out of our way, and that's going to take us several hours to make good on."
"Still you are doing well," said the army man. "No airship has ever made a trans-continental flight, and there is no speed record to go by. So you may win after all, especially as the storm was so general."
It was rapidly getting light now, and as they looked they saw that they were above the clouds. They were skimming along in a sea of fleecy, white mist.
"First call for breakfast!" cried Dick. His tones had scarcely died away when there came a howl from Grit, who was standing near the compartment of the main motor.
"What is the matter with that dog?" asked Dick, in a puzzled voice. Grit's howl changed to a bark, and at the same moment, Larry Dexter, who was passing, cried out:
"Fire! There's a fire in the motor-room! Where are the extinguishers?"
A black cloud of smoke rushed out, enveloping Grit, who howled dismally.