CHAPTER VIIIAT LONE PINE
Lone Pine Ranchwas situated not so many miles from Circle T, on the other side of a river whose waters cut an erratic course through the prairie. A straight line drawn between the houses would have passed across a wide stretch of yellow alkali plain, dotted with great sandstone buttes and patched with clumps of huge spiked cacti.
In another direction, however, the prairie was covered with a growth of buffalo grass and occasional clumps of trees. Over this rich feeding ground Mr. Follett’s immense herds of longhorns roamed for miles and miles, even beyond Lone Pine Ranch. Standing isolated on the broad plain, the appearance of the solid ranch-house was strongly suggestive of the early pioneer days and Indian warfare. Close by stood a long, low building formerly used as a stable, and encircling both was a high stockade.
About the middle of the morning a cavalcade of youthful horsemen cantered briskly up before the entrance.
“I declare, that little chap is a nuisance,” grumbled Tom Clifton. “The buckboard is at least a mile behind. Why, he hasn’t a bit of pluck. Jed offered him the tamest nag in the stable. Crickets! Even then he was afraid.”
“But you must remember that a city lad can’t be expected to ride bronchos,” laughed Bob. “He isn’t a seasoned veteran like you, Tom.”
Tom drew himself up with conscious pride.
“I know, Bob; but I had to make a start. Say, Cranny, isn’t he the freshest little dub? If he weren’t your father’s ward, I’d have taught him a lesson before this.”
“Ha, ha!” roared Cranny. “How wee Willie in the buckboard would tremble if he only heard that. Whoa, boy—whoa! Bet the sight of those longhorns has given him the shivers. See any one in the ranch-house, Bob?”
“No!”
“Then let’s give a rousing yell. Whoa,you pesky little beast. Ho, ho! Remember that big pine, fellows? Wonder if any of the charred hills are left.”
“It was a dandy old tree,” said Tim Lovell, his words somewhat disconnected by the erratic movements of his lively little broncho.
“Didn’t take our old friend Hap Hazard long to do the business for it, though,” roared Dick. “Dave, let’s hear you try to make a noise like an Indian.”
“Give a good old cowboy yell,” said Cranny. “Gee Whitaker, but isn’t this just like old times! Bother the buckboard! Come on.”
A touch of his spurs, and the broncho shot straight as an arrow through the stockade entrance. The others swiftly followed.
The unsightly piles of rubbish which once lay about the enclosure had been cleared away, while weeds and straggling bushes no longer grew about in luxuriant profusion. Even the charred stump of the ancient pine was gone.
The pounding of horses’ hoofs, together with the whoops of six lusty-voiced boys, quickly roused the ranch-house. The heavy oakendoor began to creak on its hinges, and before the bronchos had cantered up three men appeared on the steps.
“Hooray for the Lone Piners!” yelled Cranny, taking off his sombrero and waving it vigorously. “Good-morning! Whoop! Here we are again!”
“So I see, and just as lively as ever,” responded the youngest of the trio, smiling with pleasure. “Boys, we extend a most hearty welcome. The plains have seemed mighty dull since you left.”
“Very true, Ferd,” put in his father. “Just picket your horses, boys, and come right in.”
Most of the lads had vaulted from their saddles by the time these words were spoken, and, in a marvelously short time, pins were driven deep into the ground and the bronchos tethered. Then followed an enthusiastic shaking of hands, while questions and answers flew thick and fast.
There was so much to talk about and so many explanations to give that no one had made a move to enter the house when a buckboard driven by Jed Warren passed throughthe entrance in the stockade wall and rattled toward them.
“Hello! Who is that?” exclaimed Rob Ogden, in surprise.
Cranny Beaumont explained.
“If I ever cross that blooming prairie again, I’ll know it; and so will every one else,” grumbled Willie Sloan, hopping out of the buckboard before it had stopped. “Goodness gracious, Warren, you don’t know how to drive. Say, Cran, I don’t wonder, now, that they punch the cattle, if the beasts are all as ugly as those we passed. Mr. Ogden? Glad to meet you, sir; and you too, sirs. Haven’t they got the longest horns? Oh, my, I mean the cattle, of course. Anyone injured yet, Mr. Clifton? Going in the old farmhouse, eh? Some day I’ll pound Cran for getting me out here.”
The lower floor of the house was divided into large, heavily-raftered rooms. Even a shaft of sunlight, stealing through one of the half-open windows and striking upon the opposite wall, failed to remove a pervading air of gloom.
“Oh, say, Cran, I don’t like this a littlebit,” exclaimed Willie, frankly. “I’m going out on the steps.”
“Afraid of spooks, I suppose!” sniffed Tommy.
“You an’ I’ll meet in the dueling arena some day, Mr. Clifton,” returned Willie, as he retraced his steps.
Cranny laughed.
“And to think that I told dad they ought to get chummy,” he murmured.
“Yes, boys, you may examine our machines,” said Mr. Ogden, Senior, in response to a question from Bob Somers. “We have built three; and the ‘Ogden III’ is the one which is entered for the coming meet.”
“If it isn’t the very latest word in aeroplanes I’m much mistaken,” remarked Ferd. “Know anything about ’em, boys?”
“We hope to acquire a good deal of knowledge before leaving Lone Pine,” answered Dave, with a laugh.
“And I’ve no doubt you will. Let’s go now, father.”
“Impatient youth must be served, I suppose,” acquiesced the other, smilingly.
“Where’s wee Willie, I wonder?” exclaimedCranny, when they had filed out on the steps.
“Oh, he’d be afraid to go very far away,” said Tommy. “Don’t bother about him.”
“It isn’t causin’ my brow to become furrowed with wrinkles,” grinned Cranny.
The crowd, closely following the inventor and his sons, cut diagonally across to the opposite building, and, upon turning its corner, discovered Willie pulling aside a flap of the most curious-looking tent they had ever seen.
“Look out, son—for goodness’ sake don’t touch anything!” cried Mr. Ogden, hastily.
“Who’s touching anything, I’d like to know?” mumbled Willie, disconcertedly. “What’s in there?”
“That is the ‘Ogden II,’” answered the inventor, good-naturedly. “Not nearly so fine as our latest model,” he added. “The aeroplane tent, boys, is quite a new departure, designed in order that experiments may be carried on wherever we choose, without the necessity of building hangars.”
“Dandy!” cried Beaumont. “But isn’t it a whopping big machine, Mr. Ogden?”
“The spread of the planes is about forty-fivefeet; you shall see it presently. Interested in aeroplanes, too?” he asked, turning toward Willie.
“Oh, a little. Say, does it really fly?”
“Like a bird,” laughed Robert.
“It’ll sure never go up with my hundred and seventy-five pound in it,” said Jed Warren, decidedly. “Goin’ to git it out? I’ll give ye a hand, boys.”
By degrees the great aeroplane was drawn from its shelter, while the boys crowded around, examining every part of its mechanism exposed to view with the greatest interest.
They saw two horizontal fabric-covered frames forty-five feet in length by seven wide, set apart a vertical distance of six feet, joined together by strong uprights. These constituted the two planes. From the center, at the rear, a long framework extended backward and was provided at its extremity with two vertical rudders and a horizontal tail-piece. Behind the two seats for the aviators stood a seven-cylinder engine, with a pair of propellers operated by chain gearing ranged on either side. Two small horizontal planes,designed to aid in balancing the machine, as well as to assist in its elevating, were situated in front of the main planes.
The aeroplane rested on rubber-tired swivel wheels, two under the forward plane, the others placed near the end of the tail. The lads noticed springs, too, as a precaution against damage when alighting.
“Well, what do you think of it, boys?” asked Mr. Ogden.
“It’s a bird,” said Willie. “Say, what are those little shutters for?” He pointed toward several flaps fastened to the main plane.
“Those we call aillerons, or balancing wings,” explained Rob, “and they are worked by an automatic arrangement in such a manner that when one falls another rises, tending to steady the plane laterally.”
“What is the machine made of?” asked Sam.
“The frame is of hard wood; the covering of varnished fabric, while the various parts are connected by wire stays. You will observe that the planes are slightly curved; that is to prevent the air from escaping toofreely from beneath, and gives more lifting power.”
“How is the aeroplane operated?” asked Bob.
“Its movements are controlled by levers; this one, for instance, operates the elevating planes in front; and this moves the main planes, for the frame is jointed, you see, allowing the surfaces to be warped to a certain extent. These pedals control the rudder and tail.”
“But what in the world makes it go up?” asked Willie.
“Well, William actually seems to be waking up a bit at last,” grunted Tommy.
“When the engine is started, the aeroplane is propelled swiftly over the ground. Naturally, the air is at once forced beneath the planes, exerting a powerful pressure upon their surfaces. Now, it follows that unless the aeroplane has sufficient weight to push this air downward or aside the machine is bound to overcome the force of gravity and rise.”
“Like a kite, I s’pose,” said Willie.
“Yes; and the faster the pair of powerfulpropellers revolve the stronger, of course, becomes this air pressure,” added Rob. “By reducing the speed of the engine, the aeroplane can be made to descend; and, I tell you, boys, volplaning, with the power shut off, is great sport.”
“Volplaning! What’s that?” cried Tom.
“It is simply gliding downward through space,” said Dave Brandon. “I’ve seen some aviators who almost rivaled the ease and grace of birds in soaring to earth from great heights.”
“I’ll bet Dave knows all about aeroplanes,” said Dick.
“Only a little, and that in theory,” laughed the stout boy.
“To be a bird-man requires a cool head and a steady hand,” said Mr. Ogden. “One needs to be continually on his guard against treacherous air currents; although over a broad plain, like the one we have out here, aeroplaning is comparatively safe.”
“But near the hills and mountains it’s mighty different,” remarked Ferd. “A stiff breeze meeting these obstructions is deflected off into all sorts of swirls and waves, makingthe machine difficult to manage. One minute we may be traveling against a wind of a certain velocity, only to find ourselves suddenly plunged into another entirely different, or one cutting across at an angle.”
“And that is where the quickness of brain and hand come into play,” put in Mr. Ogden. “The aviator, no matter how careful he may be, is always liable to be taken by surprise.”
“Well, it must be dandy sport, anyway,” cried Cranny, “an’ I know you’re just achin’ to take one o’ us up, right now.”
“Don’t let it be Mr. Clifton,” said Willie, with one of his impish grins. “We may need him and his first-aid-to-the-injured book yet.”
“You’ll be needing somebody’s aid pretty soon, I’m thinking,” murmured Tom, hotly.
“Well, I suppose we may as well get ready for our flight, Ferd,” remarked Mr. Ogden. “Want to go up, Jed?”
“Wal, I reckon not. I sure ain’t hankerin’ ter land kerflunk among a herd o’ longhorns.”
“Then, as you are out of the running, who shall it be? Whoever wishes to experiencethe novel sensation of aeroplaning will be given a chance. But——”
“Hooray—hooray!” yelled Cranny, excitedly, amidst a burst of cheers. “Shall I climb aboard now, Mr. Ogden?”
“But, as I was about to say, it seems fitting that the first candidate for the honor should be——”
“Bob Somers!” cried Tommy, with all his force.
And every one but Cranny immediately raised his voice in a loud roar of assent.