Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) [Illustration: Several early airplanes in flight. Courtesy of Scientific American] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ THE BOY AVIATORS IN RECORD FLIGHT OR THE RIVAL AEROPLANE BY CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON AUTHOR OF âTHE BOY AVIATORS IN NICARAGUA,â âTHE BOY AVIATORS ON SECRET SERVICE,â âTHE BOY AVIATORS IN AFRICA,â âTHE BOY AVIATORSâ TREASURE QUEST,â ETC. NEW YORK HURST AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS ------------------------------------------------------------------------ BOY AVIATORSâ SERIES BY CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON Six Titles. Cloth Bound. Price 50c UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME 1 THE BOY AVIATORS IN NICARAGUA; or, In League with the Insurgents. 2 THE BOY AVIATORS ON SECRET SERVICE; or, Working with Wireless. 3 THE BOY AVIATORS IN AFRICA; or, An Aerial Ivory Trail 4 THE BOY AVIATORSâ TREASURE QUEST; or, the Golden Galleon. 5 THE BOY AVIATORS IN RECORD FLIGHT; or, The Rival Aeroplane. 6 THE BOY AVIATORSâ POLAR DASH; or, Facing Death in the Antarctic. _Your orders solicited._ HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERSâNEW YORK Copyright, 1910, by HURST & CO. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CONTENTS I The Big Prize II Billy as a Diplomat III Under a Cloud IV Thieves in the Night V The Boys Decide VI Off for San Francisco VII Above the Earth VIII Boy Aviators to the Rescue IX Luther Barr Forms an Alliance X A Night Voyage XI The First Leg XII Attacked by Cowboys XIII Indians XIV The Auto in Difficulties XV Thirstâand a Plot XVI The Auto Gone XVII The Wrong Man XVIII Wireless XIX Arrested by Aeroplane XX Caught in a Stampede XXI Bart and the Bâar XXII An Auto Leap for Life XXIII A Mystery XXIV The Golden Hermit XXV A Fight for Fortune XXVI The Sand Storm XXVII Winning the PrizeâConclusion ------------------------------------------------------------------------ THE BOY AVIATORS IN RECORD FLIGHT Or, THE RIVAL AEROPLANE. CHAPTER I. THE BIG PRIZE. âPhew!â exclaimed Billy Barnes as he reported for work on the New York _Planet_ one broiling afternoon in late August, âthis is a scorcher and no mistake.â âI should think after all your marvelous adventures with the Boy Aviators that you would be so used to heat and cold and hardship that you wouldnât kick at a little thing like a warm day.â The remark came from a young fellow about twenty-one years old who occupied a desk beside that of the stout spectacled youth of eighteen whom our readers have already met as Billy Barnes. âWhy, hullo, Fred Reade!â said Billy, looking up with a good-natured grin from the operation of opening his typewriter desk, âI thought you were off covering aviation.â âI was,â rejoined the other, with a near approach to a sneer, âbut since we printed your story about the recovery of the treasure on the Spanish galleon I guess they think Iâm not good enough to cover the subject.â If the good-natured Billy Barnes noticed the close approach to outspoken enmity with which these words were spoken he gave no sign of it. Any reply he might have made was in fact cut short at that minute by an office boy who approached him. âMr. Stowe wants to see you, Mr. Barnes, at once, please,â said the lad. âThere you go, the managing editor sending for you as soon as you get back. I wish I was a pet,â sneered Reade as Billy hastened after the boy and the next minute entered a room screened off from the editorial department by a glass door bearing the words âManaging Editor.â At a desk above which hung âThis is my busy day,â and other signs not calculated to urge visitors to become conversational, sat a heavy-set, clean-shaven man with a big pair of spectacles astride his nose. He had a fat cigar in his mouth which he regarded as he spoke with far more intensity than he did Billy. âAfternoon, Barnes,â was his greeting. âGood afternoon, Mr. Stowe,â returned the young reporter, âyou sent for meâââ âSit down,â said the other brusquely, indicating a chair. Billy sat down and waited for the next words of his managing editor. âThe _Planet_, as you know, has made a specialty of featuring aviation,â continued Mr. Stowe, gazing fixedly at his cigar. Billy nodded, the remark did not seem to call for a more definite reply. âWe have offered prizes for flights from time to time, and in this way have obtained a reputation as an authority on aviation and a patron of what is bound to be the vehicle of the coming ages.â Again Billy nodded at the managing editorâs rather florid way of putting it. âFor instance, the $10,000 Albany-New York flight and the $30,000 New York-St. Louis flight. The $100,000 offer for a transatlantic flight as yet remains unchallenged for, but I have no doubt that in time some daring aviator will make the attempt.â âIt should be possible,â once more agreed Billy, wondering what was coming next. âIn the meantime,â Mr. Stowe continued, âthe _Despatch_ has declared itself our rival in this field by also devoting great attention to the subject, and offering prizes for flights in opposition to our original idea. The owner of the _Planet_ has therefore decided to eclipse all previous offers and be the first in the field with a prize of $50,000 for a flight from New York to San Francisco, or as far in that direction as possible. The air craft that travels furthest will get the prize.â âAcross the continent?â gasped Billy. âExactly. We are going to publish the conditions and date of starting in our to-morrow morningâs issue. And the offer incidentally means a great chance for you.â Billy gave a questioning glance. âI intend to have you follow the racers in an automobile and send dispatches from the various points along the route concerning the progress of the cross-country aerial racers.â The young reporterâs face beamed. âThatâs mighty good of you, sir,â he said earnestly. âNot at all. Itâs simply the selection of the best man for the job; thatâs all. You have far more knowledge of aviation than Readeâor at least you ought to have after your long association with the Boy Aviatorsâand therefore we have selected you.â âAs to the conditions of the race, Mr. Stoweâhow about stops, gasolene and water stations, and so on?â âEach contestant will be expected to arrange those details for himself,â was the answer. âThis newspaper simply offers the prize to the first aeroplane to arrive in San Francisco, or go furthest in that direction. Also, of course, we claim the privilege of getting exclusive accounts of the doings of the _Planet_ aeroplanes. Thatâs all. Simple, isnât it?â âVery,â agreed Billy as he took his leave. âBy the way, sir, does any one else know of your offer?â âNobody; not even Reade. I guess heâs pretty sore that we took him off aviation on the eve of making the prize offer, but it canât be helped.â âWhy, Iâyou see, sir, Iâd rather not take it, if it is blocking Reade in any way. I donât want to take the assignment at all if itâs going to hurt Reade with the paper.â The managing editor gave an impatient wave of his hand. âLet me attend to Reade,â he remarked impatiently, âyou go and get out a story for to-morrow about possible contestants. Of course your friends, the Chester boys, will enter?â Billy looked dubious. âI donât know,â he replied. âI rather think they were planning for a rest and to continue their studies, and this cross-country flight wonât be any picnic. However, I hope they do enter,â replied Billy. âI had no idea that there would be any doubt about it,â said Mr. Stowe impatiently, âwell, do the best you can. Anyhow, get interviews with Blewitt, Sharkness and Auldwin. They will be sure to enter their machines, and letâs have a good, live story for to-morrow. By the way, not a word of this to anybody but the aviators you may see till we publish the offer. The _Despatch_ would be quite capable of offering a similar prize to-morrow morning if they learned what was in the wind.â Billy nodded as Mr. Stowe once more gave a sign of dismissal, and hastened from the room. So hurried was his exit, in fact, that he almost bumped into Reade as he made his way out. The editorial room was deserted, except for the dark-haired, slender young fellow with whom Billy had almost collided. The other reporters were all out on their assignments. âWell?â were Fred Readeâs first words. âWell,â rejoined Billy, adjusting his spectacles, which had narrowly escaped being jarred off his nose in the bump, âisnât there room enough in the place without your getting so near that door that you almost upset my slender form?â âNever mind that,â replied Frank Reade; âwhat I want to know is, how do I stand in there?â He motioned with his head toward the managing editorâs room from which the boys were by this time several paces removed. âI donât understand you exactly,â was Billyâs reply. He noticed that Readeâs face bore an angry flush and he seemed excited. âWhat I mean is this: Am I going to continue to do aviation for the _Planet_?â âSay, Fred, old man, Iâm awfully sorryâââ âOh, cut that out. You donât mean it, and you know you donât. You wanted to grab off the job for yourself, and I can see by your face that you have.â âIf you mean that I am to do aviation for the _Planet_ in future, you are right,â replied Billy. âI am; but it was only on Mr. Stoweâs orders. Youâre wrong, Fred, and you know you are, when you accuse me of trying to take your job away from you.â âOh, rot,â exclaimed the other angrily. âIf that had been the case youâd have kept away. You donât have to work. You made plenty of money out of your share of the Golden Galleon treasure. You have just deliberately tried to oust me from my job.â âYou talk as if youâd been fired,â said Billy. âYou know that you are one of the most valued reporters on the _Planet_.â âDonât try to jolly me,â rejoined the other angrily. âAnd as for being fired, I donât have to be, for Iâve got my resignation ready written out. Here copy boy!â he cried, âtake this note in to Mr. Stowe.â As the boy hurried up Reade drew from his pocket an envelope and handed it to the lad. âHold on there!â cried Billy, genuinely moved at Readeâs evident chagrin, âhave you gone crazy, Fred? Whatâs the matter?â âTake that note in,â thundered Reade to the hesitating boy, who thereupon hurried off, âitâs your fault Iâve had to quit, Billy Barnes, and Iâll not forget it, I can promise you. Iâll get even with you for this in a way you donât suspect. No; I wonât shake hands with you. I donât want to speak to you.â Reade flung angrily off and put on his coat and hat. Without taking any more notice of Billy he strode out of the _Planet_ offices and into the street. On the sidewalk he paused for a minute. His hat shoved back off his brow and his forehead puckered in perplexity. âIâll do it,â he exclaimed suddenly under his breath as if he had made up his mind to something. âIâll do it. The _Despatch_ will jump at it, and Iâll get even on Billy Barnes and the _Planet_ at the same time.â CHAPTER II. BILLY AS A DIPLOMAT. A few minutes after Fred Reade had left the _Planet_ offices he was followed by Billy Barnes. The young reporter boarded an open Madison Avenue car, preferring it to the stuffy heat of the subway, and in due time found himself at the home of Mr. Chester, the wealthy banker, and father of Frank and Harry Chester, the Boy Aviators. The lads need no further introduction to our readers, who have doubtless formed the acquaintance of both the young air pilots in previous volumes of this series. To those who have not it may be as wellâwhile Billy Barnes is ringing the doorbellâto say that Frank and Harry Chester were graduates of the Agassiz High School and the pioneers among schoolboy aviators. Beginning with models of air craft they had finally evolved a fine biplane which they named the _Golden Eagle_. The first _Golden Eagle_ was destroyed in a tropical storm off the coast of Nicaragua, as related in The Boy Aviators in Nicaragua; or, In League with the Insurgents. To carry out an important commission affecting a stolen formula the lads then constructed a second _Golden Eagle_, in which they met many adventures and perils in the Everglades of Florida. These were set forth in The Boy Aviators on Secret Service; or, Working with Wireless, the second volume of the series. In the third and fourth volumes the boys had aerial adventures in Africa, and in the Sargasso Sea. What these were will be found in The Boy Aviators in Africa; or, An Aerial Ivory Trail; and The Boy Aviatorsâ Treasure Quest; or, The Golden Galleon. Before the servant who answered Billyâs ring had time to announce him there was a rush of feet down the hallway and two tall lads, with crisp wavy hair and blue eyes, were wringing Billyâs hand till he laughingly shouted: âHey, let up! Iâm not the India-rubber man with the circus.â At this moment a door opened and a gray-haired man stepped out. It was Mr. Chester. âWhy, how do you do, Billy Barnes,â he exclaimed heartily, âglad to see you; but I hope you havenât come to take my boys off again on some wonderful trip or other. You know their mother and I like to see them at home sometimes.â âWell, sir,â began Billy somewhat abashed, âthe fact is Iâyou seeâI meanâwell, the long and short of it is, sir, that I _have_ an adventurous proposal to make to them.â âHurray!â shouted Harry. âGood for you, Billy!â Mr. Chester, however, assumed hisâwhat Frank calledââofficial face.â âReally, Iâââ he began. âNow, father,â interjected Frank, âdonât you think it would be a good idea if we heard what Billyâs proposal, or whatever you like to call it, is before we say anything more?â âPerhaps you are right, my boy,â said his father, âbut I am busy now, andâââ âWeâll take Billy out to the workshop and make him tell us all about it, and then weâll submit it to you,â suggested Harry. âThatâs a good idea,â assented his father. Five minutes later the three boys were closeted in the big room above the garage of the Chester home, which served them as a workshop, study and designing plant all rolled into one. The blue prints, aeroplane parts, chemicals, and tools scattered about or ranged in neat racks against the walls in conjunction with a shelf of books on aviation and kindred subjects, the table illumined by movable drop lights shaded by green shades, gave the room a very business-like appearance. It was clearly a place for work and not for playâas a sort of framework newly erected in one corner showed. âWhatâs that?â asked Billy, indicating it. âOh, just an idea we were working on for a wireless adapted for auto use,â rejoined Frank, âbut never mind that now. Whatâs this wonderful plan of yours?â âSimply this,â replied Billy briskly, âhowâd you fellows like to get $50,000?â âWould we?â exclaimed Harry. âLead us to it.â âYouâll have to lead yourselves,â laughed Billy. âOh, come on, Billy, put us out of our suspense. What do you mean?â said Frank. âWell, my paper, _The Planet_, you know,â began Billy, âhas decided to offer the amount I named for a successful flight from here to San Francisco, or as near to that city as can be attained. There are no conditionsâexcept get there first, or travel furthest.â âWell?â said Frank. âWell,â repeated Billy, âIâve come here to interview you. Are you ready to announce yourselves as competitors for the _Planetâs_ contest?â Not so much to Billyâs surprise Frank shook his head. âI donât know what to say,â he rejoined. âIt isnât a thing you can make your mind up to in a minute. Iâd like to do it, but it would require a lot of preparation. Then, too, there would be maps to get up and a thousand and one details to arrange. Itâs a big taskâbigger than you imagine, Billy.â âOh, I know itâs a big proposition,â said the young reporter, âthatâs one reason I thought it would appeal to you,â he added subtly. âAs for gasolene, why not carry a supply of it in the automobile?â âWhat automobile?â asked Harry. âWhy, didnât I tell you,â exclaimed Billy, âthe auto Iâm to follow you fellows in and send out accounts of your progress. Oh, Frank, please say youâll do itâit would be bully.â âIt would be bully, no doubt of that,â rejoined Frank; âbut I have a lot of experimental work on hand that I want to finish. I should have to leave that, and Harry is preparing for college. No, Billy, Iâm afraid we shall have to call it off. There are lots of other aviators you can get to take part. The prize is big enough to call out the biggest of them.â Bitter disappointment showed on Billyâs face. âThen itâs all off?â he murmured dejectedly. âIâm afraid soâyes,â replied Frank. âWhat do you say, Harry?â âIâd like to go,â decided Harry promptly; âbut, as you said, Frank, it would delay us both in our studies, and then we would have a lot of work to do on the framework of the _Golden Eagle_, wrecked as she was.â âHold on there!â cried Billy. âI was coming to that. I was going to say that maybe the reason you refused was that you couldnât build a new âplane in time, but did I understand you to say you had recovered the frame?â âOf the old _Golden Eagle II_,â put in Frank. âYou recollect that following the fight with Luther Barrâs dirigible in the Sargasso we had to abandon her.â âAfter that rascal Sanborn tried to blow a hole in the pontoons that made her float and sink her.â âI shall never forget the look on his face as that devil fish seized him and bore him to the depths of the sea,â shuddered Harry. âNor I,â said Frank; âbut hereâs your story, Billy. Having, as you know, left the _Golden Eagle_ drifting on her pontoons we never thought we should see her again, but a few days ago a message reached us from Florida saying that the government derelict destroyer _Grampus_, while on the lookout for dangerous wrecks in the Caribbean Sea, encountered a strange-looking object scudding overâor rather throughâthe waves. They set out in chase and soon made it out as the framework of an aeroplane. You remember that I advertised the loss of our air craft pretty extensively in marine and naval journals, and offered a reward, so that when the drifting aeroplane was sighted every man on board the government vessel was eager to capture it. As the wind dropped soon after they sighted it they were enabled to get alongside the derelict and found that it was indeed the _Golden Eagle_. Her planes were riddled with bullets and her pontoons covered with green seaweed, but the framework was as solid and the braces as taut as the day we put her together. Moreover, the engine, beyond being badly coated with rust, was as good as the day we set it on the bed plate.â âSay, why didnât you tell me about this before?â demanded Billy. âToo much of a hurry to get her back, I guess,â rejoined Frank. âBut, say,â he broke off, âthe frame was shipped from Florida and arrived here this morning. Want to look at it?â âWant to look at it? You bet I do!â gasped Billy. âThatâs the finest old air ship in the world.â âSo we think,â laughed Harry, as Frank led the way down a flight of steps into the garage below the room in which they had been discussing the _Planetâs_ offer. Frank switched on the lights and there stood revealed in the rear of the place a shadowy framework that glistened in places where the light caught it. It towered huge, and yet light and airy-looking, like the skeleton of a strange bird. âIt wasnât shipped that way?â asked Billy. âNot much,â was Frankâs reply. âThey took it down in Florida and boxed it.â âAnd a nice mess they made of it,â said Harry; âbut, thank goodness, they didnât harm the engine.â He pointed to the motor which was out of the machine and lay in a corner. âDoesnât look very big for the work itâs done, does it?â laughed Frank, gazing lovingly at the eight-cylindered, hundred horse-power engine that had performed such good service since the boys installed it. âThereâs certainly a lot of cleaning to be done about the âplane,â remarked Billy, as he handled the rusted frames and tarnished bronze parts. âOh, that wonât take long,â replied Frank lightly; âanyhow, weâve got lots of time to do it.â âUnless,â put in Billy. âWell, unless what?â demanded Frank, though he guessed the young reporterâs meaning. âUnless you go in for that $50,000 prize,â cried Billy skillfully evading the playful blow Frank aimed at him. âIn all seriousness, Frank, wonât you?â he pleaded. âIn all seriousness, no,â was Frankâs rejoinder. âIâd like to do it. Billy,â he went on. âIâd like to do it for your sake, if it would do you any goodâwe both would, wouldnât we, Harry?â âYou bet,â replied the younger brother with effective brevity. âWell, of course, I know you fellows too well to try to urge you,â said Billy; âbut I would like to be able to announce in the _Planet_ to-morrow that the Boy Aviators announce they will compete for the paperâs big prize.â âTo tell you the truth, Billy,â laughed Frank, âweâve had about enough newspaper notoriety lately. Itâs mighty good of you to write accounts of our adventures, but I guess the papers can get along for a while without anything about us.â âNot at all, you make good copy,â declared Billy, with such comic emphasis that the boys went off into shouts of laughter. And so it came about that Billy said good-night without having shaken the Boy Aviators in their determination not to engage in any public flights, but all the time, though they little knew it, events were so shaping themselves that little as they dreamed it they were to take part in the record flight. CHAPTER III. UNDER A CLOUD. It was early the next morning. The paper had been put to bed. Billy, with the satisfied feeling that came to him with the knowledge that he had written a good introduction and account of the _Planetâs_ great offer, was slipping into his coat preparatory to going home, when Mr. Stowe, his face purple with anger, called to him in a sharp voice from the door of the editorial sanctum. âCome here, Barnes, I want to see you,â he said brusquely. âHullo, somethingâs up with the chief,â thought Billy to himself; but he answered cheerily: âAll right, sir,â with an inward feeling that something was all wrong. âLook here, Barnes,â exclaimed Mr. Stowe, angrily flourishing a first edition of the _Planetâs_ rival, the _Despatch_, âthere has been treachery somewhere. How about this?â Billy, with an unaccountable sinking of the heart, took the paper the other flourished so furiously. It was still moist and warm as it had been run off the press. The sickly, sweet odor of printerâs ink hung about it. But these details did not attract Billyâs attention. And for an excellent reason. Staring him in the face in big black letters he read: THE âDESPATCHâ OFFERS FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS FOR A TRANSCONTINENTAL FLIGHT. Belowâand every letter of the article burned itself into Billyâs brain, was a long story eulogizing the enterprise of the _Despatch_ in making the offer and giving a list of the noted aviators who would be sureâso the _Despatch_ thoughtâto enter the contest. It was a cold steal of the _Planetâs_ idea. Almost word for word the conditions were the same as those Mr. Stowe had detailed to Billy that afternoon. âWell,â remarked the managing editor in a harsh tone, in which Billy recognized the steely ring that always presaged a storm from that august quarter. âWell,â floundered Billy helplessly, âI cannot account for it.â âYou cannot,â echoed the other in a flinty tone. âWhy no,â rejoined the lad, lifting his eyes to Stoweâs, âcan you?â âYes I can.â âYou can, sir?â âWe have been sold out.â âSold out?â âPrecisely. And there are only three people in the office who could have had any knowledge of the secret. One is the owner of the paper, the other myself and the third is you.â Mr. Stowe joined his hands magisterially and looked straight at Billy, in whose mind a horrid suspicion had begun to dawn. The managing editor was practically accusing him of selling the story. Preposterous as the idea was, Billy realized that to a prejudiced mind, such as the managing editorâs, there would be no way of explaining matters. His thoughts were suddenly broken in on by Mr. Stoweâs harsh voice. âIs there any one else, Barnes?â Like a flash the recollection of his encounter with Reade at the very door of the managing editorâs room, the latterâs strange and defiant manner, and the unaccountable publishing by the _Despatch_ of a rival offer, came into Billyâs mind. He was about to mention Readeâs name when he checked himself. What proof had he? Then, too, he saw that Stoweâs mind was made up. He did not wish to appear in the position of trying to throw the blame on a man whom he realized the managing editor would not believe could by any possibility have any knowledge of the _Planetâs_ plans. âI am waiting for your answer,â came the cold, incisive voice again. âI can think of none, sir,â rejoined the young reporter with a feeling that he had put the rope about his neck with a vengeance now. âHum! In that case, by a process of elimination, we have only one person who could have done it, and thatâââ He paused. âI hate to have to say it, Barnes, but it looks bad for you.â âGreat Heavens, Mr. Stowe!â gasped Billy, who, while he had seen what the managing editor was leading up to, was struck by a rude shock of surprise at the actual placing into words of the accusation, âdo you mean to say you think that I would do such a thing?â âI donât know what to think, Barnes,â was the discouraging answer. âI am more sorry than I can say to have had to speak as I have. However, until you can clear yourself of the cloud of a suspicion that must rest on you because of this affair we shall have to part company.â Billy went white. His superior then really believed him guilty of the worst crime a newspaper man can commitâa breach of faith to his paper. âDo you really believe what you are saying, sir?â he demanded. âAs I said before, I donât know what to think, Barnes. However, what I might say will make little difference. In a short time the proprietor will hear of this, and I should have to discharge you whether I wished to or no. If you wish to act now, you may resign.â âVery well, then, Mr. Stowe, I will make out my formal resignation,â exclaimed Billy, his cheeks burning crimson with anger and shame. âIâm sorry, Barnes,â said Mr. Stowe, as the lad, scarcely knowing where he was going, left the room. âI have no other course, you know.â Fifteen minutes later Billy Barnes was no longer a member of the _Planet_ staff, and his resignation, neatly typewritten, lay on the managing editorâs desk. To do Mr. Stowe justice, he had acted against his own beliefs, but he was only an inferior officer in the direction of the paper. Its owner, he well knew, was a man of violent temper and fixed convictions. When he saw the _Despatch_ Mr. Stowe knew that the vials of his wrath would be emptied and that Billy would have had to leave in any event. And so subsequent events proved, for the next day, when Billyâs immediate discharge was angrily demanded by the _Planetâs_ owner, he was informed by his managing editor that the boy had left of his own free will. âHe resigned last night rather than have any suspicion directed toward him,â said Mr. Stowe; âbut, you mark my words, the boy will right himself.â âNonsense, Stowe, he sold us out,â said the owner bitterly; âsold us out cold and nothing will ever make me alter my conviction.â âExcept Billy Barnes himself,â said Stowe softly, and lit a cigar, which he puffed at with great energy. When he had learned that Reade was doing aviation for the _Despatch_ the managing editorâs mind was crossed for a brief minute with suspicion that here might be the traitor. But he dismissed itâwas compelled to, in fact. To his mind it would have been an impossibility for Reade to have heard the conversation in which the offer was discussed. In the meantime both papers continued to work up their $50,000 offers, until there was actually developed a keen and bitter rivalry between them. One morning the _Despatch_ would announce the entry of some prominent aviator in its cross-country contest, and the next the _Planet_ would be out with its announcement of a new contestant added to its ranks. The public appetite was whetted to a keen pitch by the various moves. Crawford, the man who had taken Billy Barnesâ place on the _Planet_, was a skilled writer, and an excellent man to work up such a story as the cross-continental challenge. It was he who first broached to Stowe the idea of flinging down the gauntlet to the _Despatch_ and inviting that paper to start its contestants on the same day as those of the _Planet_, the winner to take the prizes of both papers. This would give the struggle tremendous added interest, and attract worldwide attention, he argued. While events were thus shaping themselves with the _Planet_ and the _Despatch_, Billy Barnes had visited his friends, the Boy Aviators, and told them, with a rueful face, of his misfortune. His manner of so doing was characteristic. A few days after he had left the newspaper he called on them at their work shop. To his surprise he found there old Eben Joyce, the inventor whom Luther Barr had treated so shabbily in the matter of the _Buzzard_ aeroplane of which Joyce was the creatorâas told in The Boy Aviatorsâ Treasure Quest; or, The Golden Galleon. Joyce and the two boys were busied over the _Golden Eagle_ when Billy arrived, adjusting a strange-looking mechanism to it, consisting of a boxed flywheel of glittering brass encased in a framework of the same metal. It seemed quite a heavy bit of apparatus, withal so delicately balanced, that it adjusted itself to every movement of its frame. A second glance showed Billy that it was a gyroscope. The boys and the aged inventor were so deeply interested in examining the bit of machinery that they did not hear Billy come in, and it was not till he hailed them with a cheery: âCome down from the clouds, you fellows!â that they turned with a shout of recognition. âWhy, hullo, Billy Barnes!â they cried, âwhat are you after now? If you want an aeroplane story hereâs a good oneâa new adjustable gyroscopic appliance for attachment to aeroplanes which renders them stable in any shifting wind currents.â âItâs a jim-dandy,â enthusiastically cried Harry. âBut itâs a story you canât use,â added Frank, âbecause the appliance, which is the invention of Mr. Joyceâhas not yet been fully patented. He has been good enough to let us try it out.â âIt looks fine,â said Billy, who knew about as much about gyroscopes as a cat knows of the solar system; âbut you neednât worry about my printing anything about it, Frank. You see, Iâm fired,â he added simply. âFired?â cried Frank. âWell, about the same thingâI resigned, as a matter of fact,â explained Billy ruefully; âbut it all amounts to the same in the long run.â âSit down and tell us about it,â commanded Frank, genuinely concerned at his friendâs evident dejection. Seated on an upturned box, which had contained batteries, Billy related his story, omitting nothing. On his suspicions of Reade, however, he touched lightly. âYou see, Iâve got nothing on the fellow,â he explained, âand although Iâm convinced that he gave our plan away to the _Despatch_, yet Iâve got nothing to base it on.â âThatâs so,â Frank and Harry were compelled to admit. The three friends spent an hour or so chatting, and then Mr. Joyce, who had been tinkering with his aeroplane attachment quite oblivious to their talk, announced that he would have to be going home. He had some work to do on another invention that evening, he explained. âWell, say, as weâve been stuffing in here almost all day and itâs warm enough to be mighty uncomfortable, what do you say if we take a little spin out in the auto. We can give Mr. Joyce a ride home,â exclaimed Frank. âThe very thing,â agreed Harry. Old Mr. Joyce was nothing loath to be spared the long ride in a train to his home in the outskirts of Jersey City. As for Billy Barnes, he was delighted at the idea. Accordingly, half an hour later the Chester boysâ auto rolled on board one of the ferryboats which ply across the North River to Jersey City. The boat had hardly reached midstream before they were aware of another car almost opposite to them in the space set apart for autos in the centre of the boat. Before five minutes had passed they also noticed that they were the object of close scrutiny on the part of one of the occupants of the machine. He was a tall youth with dark hair and eyes, and as soon as he observed that he was attracting their attention he at once withdrew his gaze. Billy Barnes, who had been âstretching his legsâ by a stroll on the stern deck of the ferryboat as she made her way across the river, rejoined the others just as the boat was pulling into her slip. âHullo!â he exclaimed as the autos rolled over the apron and onto the wharf, âthereâs Fred Reade.â He indicated the occupant of the other car, who seemed to have taken so much interest in the Chester boys and Eben Joyce, their aged companion. CHAPTER IV. THIEVES IN THE NIGHT. The other occupants of the auto were a man with a heavy red beard and a nervous, alert little man whom Billy said was an aviator named Slade. âThatâs queer to see Reade over here. I wonder what he can be doing,â said Billy, as the two autos left the shed and emerged into the street. Neither of the boys could, of course, hazard a guess, but had they known it the mission of the reporter who had betrayed the _Planet_ was more nearly concerned with them than they imagined. The car in which Reade was seated seemed a more powerful machine than the one the boys occupied and it soon left them behind. They thought no more of the chance encounter and soon arrived at the home of Eben Joyce, a comfortable cottage on the heights overlooking the âmeadowsâ on one side and the North river on the other. They were greeted by the inventorâs daughter, who seemed much disturbed. âOh, I am so glad you have come!â she exclaimed, after she had invited the little party in. âWhy, what has happened?â asked Frank. âI will tell you,â she said, while they all leaned forward deeply interested. âThis afternoon I was called to the door by a man in ragged clothes who begged me for something to eat. My father has told me never to let anyone go away hungry, so I told the servant to give the man some food. I thought no more of the matter till, on looking out of the window, I saw the man who had asked for charity going toward the old barn out there that my father used as a workshop.â Old Mr. Joyce became greatly excited. It was evident he feared some harm had come to his collection of scientific instruments and plans for inventions which he housed there for lack of room in the house. âYes, yes, go on,â he exclaimed, quivering with agitation. âHe was fumbling with the lock when I looked up and saw him. I shouted to him to know what he was doing. His reply was to instantly stop what he was at and run toward the front of the house. I opened the door just in time to see him leap into an automobile in which were two other men, and they drove off.â âA tramp in an automobile; thatâs funny,â commented Frank. âIndeed it is. In fact, I recollect thinking at the time that he asked me for food that his manner was too refined to be that of a genuine tramp.â âWhat did he look like?â asked Harry. âHe was tall and had a big red beard. That is all I am able to recollect of him.â âSounds like the man we saw in Readeâs auto,â exclaimed Harry. âCan Fred Reade have anything to do with this mysterious happening?â asked Billy. âEh, say that name again, young man,â demanded the inventor, who was, besides being often preoccupied, somewhat deaf and so had not heard Billy mention the otherâs name when they were in the auto. âI said Fred Reade,â rejoined Billy. âWhy, do you know him?â âI do, and I know no good of him,â was the reply. âIt was he that first approached me in connection with the sale of the _Buzzard_ to Luther Barr andâââ âLuther Barr again. We seem to cross his trail all the time,â exclaimed Frank. âEh?â questioned the old man, his hand at his ear, trumpet-wise. âI said we have heard of Luther Barr before, as you know,â said Frank, âbut you never mentioned the fact that Reade had acted for him.â âIt must have slipped my mind in the excitement,â explained the old man. âYes, Fred Reade has acted for Barr in many matters that I know of.â âA sort of agent of his,â said Billy. âMore than that,â rejoined old Eben Joyce; âthere is some mysterious tie between them. I think Reade knows something about Luther Barr that the other is afraid will come out.â âHow is that?â asked Frank. âI donât know, but such is my impression. At the time of the negotiation for the _Buzzard_ Reade treated Barr as an equal more than if he were employed by him.â It had grown dusk by this time and Eben Joyceâs daughter lit the lamp and set it down on the cottage table. As she did so there came a loud roar of an approaching motor car down the quiet street and the next moment through the gathering gloom a big auto approached the cottage. As it neared it it slowed down. They all went out on the porch to see who could be driving a car down that little frequented street. It was not very light, but as the car drew nearer Frank recognized it. âThatâs Fred Readeâs auto,â he cried. But if the boys imagined that they were to get any solution of the carâs mysterious appearance they were mistaken. As it neared the house, and the group on the porch must have been plainly visible to its occupants, the big car suddenly leaped forward and shot away into the darkness. âWhat did they do that for?â asked Billy. âI guess they saw so many if us here that they thought it would be more prudent to stay away,â suggested Frank. âWhat can they be after?â wondered Harry. âThe blue prints of my gyroscopic attachment and possibly my experimental machine itself,â declared the inventor, âthough if they had the blue prints they could easily manufacture them themselves. Reade has been after me to sell them.â âThat is so,â mused Frank; âundoubtedly such prints would be of great value to them.â âWill you do something for me?â inquired old Eben Joyce, suddenly. âOf course,â rejoined Frank; âwhat is it?â âWill you take charge of my blue prints for me. It is lonely here and I am old and my daughter unprotected. In case they attacked us in the night we should have little opportunity to keep the prints from them. I would feel quite secure if you had them in your possession, however.â Frank readily agreed to this, adding that he would place them in a safe deposit vault. âI shall rest much easier if you would,â said the old inventor. âBad as they are, I donât think the men would hurt us; all they are after is the plans and I really dare not have them about here another night.â It was an hour later when, with the plans safely tucked away in an inside pocket of Frankâs coat, the boys started back for town. âIf you feel at all nervous we will telephone home and stay here with you,â Frank offered before they left. âOh, not at all,â exclaimed old Joyce, who was already busy figuring a new problem. âI have a revolver and I will communicate with the police about my fears. I shall be all right.â With hearty good nights the boysâ car swung off, its headlights glowing brightly. They sped along through the outskirts of Jersey City and were about to leave the lonely, badly-lighted section through which they had been passing when suddenly a figure stepped full into the path of light cast ahead of them. The sudden apparition of the night was waving a red lantern. âStop! thereâs danger ahead!â it shouted. âDanger, what sort of danger?â asked Frank, nevertheless bringing the car to a stop. âWhy, thereâs an excavation ahead. Ah! thatâs right, youâve stopped. Now then, young gentlemen, just step out of the petroleum phaeton and fork over the contents of your pockets.â âWhat, you rascal, are you holding us up?â cried Billy indignantly, as the man pointed a revolver at them. âLooks that way, doesnât it?â grinned the other. âCome on now, shell out and hurry up.â As he spoke three other figures glided from the shadows of an untenanted house near by and silently took up their positions a short distance beyond him. They were out of the path of the autoâs lights and their faces could not be seen. The light glinted on something that each held in his hand, however, and which were clearly enough revolvers. Things looked pretty blue for the Boy Aviators. The sudden turn events had taken almost bereft Frank of his wits for a minute, but suddenly it flashed across him that the man who had waved the lantern did not talk like an ordinary robber and that it was remarkable that the others took so much trouble to keep out of the light. The next instant his suspicions were confirmed by hearing the voice of the first comer snap out: âWhich one of you has got them gyroscope plans?â Frankâs reply was startling. Without uttering a word he suddenly drove the machine full speed ahead. It leaped forward like a frightened wild thing. As it dashed ahead it bowled over the would-be robber, but that he was not seriously hurt the boys judged by the volley of bad language he sent after them. As for the others, as the car made its leap they had stepped nimbly aside. âLook out for the excavation. Frank; weâll be in it!â shouted Billy in an alarmed voice as the car rushed forward. âWhy, thereâs no excavation, Billy,â rejoined Frank, bending over the steering wheel. âThat was just a bluff on the part of those men, of whom, if I am not much mistaken, Fred Reade was one.â CHAPTER V. THE BOYS DECIDE. Their strange experience of the preceding night was naturally the topic of the day with the boys the next morning. That Fred Reade was concerned in it there seemed no reason to doubt, though just what part he had played was more shadowy. A perusal of the two newspapers, the _Planet_ and the _Despatch_, the next day, however, gave the boys an inkling of one of his motives for his desperate attemptâif, indeed, it had been engineered by himâto gain possession of the Joyce gyroscope. This was the announcement that the two papers had agreed to start their contestants off in a spirit of rivalry by naming the same day for the start and imposing exactly the same conditions, the prizes to be lumped. Among other things in the _Despatchâs_ article the boys read that Slade, the noted aviator, was an entrant. âMr. Reade,â the paper stated, âwill accompany Mr. Slade as the correspondent of this newspaper. He will ride in an automobile which will carry supplies and emergency tools and equipment. Every step of the trip will be chronicled by him.â There was more to the same effect, but the boys had no eyes for it after their sight lighted on the following paragraph: âThose remarkable and precocious youths, the Boy Aviators, are, of course, not equipped for such a contest as this, requiring, as it does, an excess of skill and knowledge of aviation. A noted aviator of this city, in speaking of the fact that they have not entered their names, remarked that boys are not calculated to have either the energy or the pluck to carry them through an enterprise like the present.â âThatâs Fred Reade, for a bet,â exclaimed Billy, as he read the insulting paragraph. âHeâs crazy sore at you and everyone else beside his sweet self. I suppose he wrote that just to make himself disagreeable.â âMoreover, he knows in some mysterious way that we have the first option on the Joyce gyroscope,â put in Harry, âand maybe he wouldnât give his eyes to get it for the principal _Planet_ contestant.â âHeâs certainly shown that,â said Frank. âIâve heard of the Slade machine, and it is reputed to be a wonder. In whatever way Reade heard that we had the gyroscope, there is little doubt that he realizes that fitted with it the Slade plane might win the race.â âAnd thereâs another reason,â burst out Billy Barnes. âYou see now that the two papers have agreed to run the race off together it eliminates the two prizes, and according to the conditions both will be massed and awarded to the winner.â âWell?â questioned Frank. âWell,â repeated Billy, continuing, âthis means that if Reade has been backing Slade to win the _Despatch_ contest, and there is little doubt he hasânow that the two contests are massed if Slade has a better man on the _Planetâs_ list pitted against him the _Planet_ man may win, and then Reade gets nothing.â âYou mean that Slade was almost certain to win the _Despatchâs_ raceâthat the $50,000 was as good as won with the class of contestants he had against him before the two offers were massed?â asked Frank. Billy nodded. âAnd that now, for all they know, the _Planet_ may have some dark horse who will beat Slade and get the combined prize?â âPrecisely, as Ben Stubbs would say,â laughed Billy. âIt would serve them right for the mean trick they tried to play on us by attempting to steal the gyroscope plans if we were to enter in the race at the last moment and be the _Planetâs_ dark horses.â mused Frank. âOh, Frank, do you mean that?â shouted Billy. âI havenât said I mean anything, you wild man,â laughed Frank, âbut inasmuch as my father was talking of going to Los Angelesâyou know he has some orange groves out thereâIâve been thinking that we might combine business with pleasure and take a trip to California by aeroplane.â âThen youâll do it,â eagerly demanded Billy. As for Harry, he was so entranced at the idea that he was capering about the room like an Indian. âI think that it is almost certain that we will not,â teased Frank. âNot what?â groaned Billy. âNot be able to resist the temptation of going.â At this point a maid entered the room with a telegram. âThis is for you,â she said, holding it out to Frank. Frank tore it open and his face flushed angrily as he read its contents. He
{'title': 'The Boy Aviators in Record Flight; Or, The Rival Aeroplane by John Henry Goldfrap', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}