CHAPTER XIV
IN KABSPELL
“Here you go, Bob, hand me that monkey wrench.”
“It’s right behind you, Jerry. Say, though, I’ve forgotten whetherthese side planes, or the rear ones, go on first.”
“The rear ones, of course,” spoke Ned. “We won’t put the side planes onuntil last, and then they won’t interfere. Look out, don’t step in thatpile of bolts. I’ve got ’em arranged in the order I want to use ’em.”
“Oh, I won’t,” and the stout lad changed the planes he had taken up,selecting another set.
“Who’s got the hammer?” demanded Jerry, a little later.
“You had it last,” answered Ned.
“I did not. You sang out for it and I fired it over to you.”
“That’s right. I’d forgotten. I’ve got it. Now, boys, get a move on,and we’ll soon have her in shape.”
It was the third day after the arrival of our heroes and their friendsin the small town of Kabspell, Montana, and they were busy assemblingtheir motorship, which had arrived safely a short time before.
They had secured a boarding place, and had arranged to use an old shedon the outskirts of the town as a “hangar” in which to assemble theparts of their craft. They found everything all right, save that oneof the hydroplane floats had been smashed, but a local carpenter hadagreed to make another.
The arrival of the lads and the mysterious craft had created no littleastonishment in the town, and such a crowd assembled in and about theshed that the motor boys were forced to put up ropes, and hire a man tokeep back the throng, so they would have room to work.
“We don’t mind them watching us,” said Jerry; “but we don’t want tostep on them all the while, and they will insist on fingering things.First we know, some part will be missing, and then we’ll be in a prettyfix.”
Jim Nestor and Harvey Brill offered their aid in reassembling themotorship, and their services were gladly accepted. One or twomechanics had also been hired to fit the motor and gas machinetogether, as the boys found themselves pretty well occupied. But, forthe most part, the boys did the work themselves. They were familiarwith their craft, and knew just how to put it together, having taken itapart several times.
“Is there anything I can do?” inquired Professor Snodgrass, as heentered the shed on the morning when the activities of the lads broughtforth the utterances with which I began this chapter. “I’d like tohelp,” went on the little bald-headed scientist, eagerly.
“No, I guess not,” said Jerry, winking at Ned. “We won’t take you fromyour researches.”
“Well, then, as long as you don’t want me,” proceeded the “bugologist,”gladly, “I’ll see if I can locate a side-stepping toad. I saw traces ofone not long ago.”
“A side-stepping toad!” exclaimed Bob. “That’s a new one.”
“It isn’t good to eat, though, Chunky!” chuckled Ned, taking care toget out of reach of his fat chum.
“But what is it?” asked Bob.
“It’s a toad that moves sideways, like a crab,” explained thescientist. “They are very rare, and only a few museums have them. Ishall count myself fortunate if I find one--almost as fortunate as if Iget a luminous serpent. By the way, when shall we be able to start forthem?”
“In a few days,” replied Jerry; and then the professor went out. “I’mglad he didn’t insist on wanting to help,” he added to Ned.
“That’s right. The last time he did he fitted the exhaust pipe to thegasoline intake, and we’d have had a dandy explosion if we hadn’t seenit in time.”
“And before that,” commented the tall lad, “he had the elevation rudderrigged up so that we’d have shot downward instead of going up. He didit before I found out what he was up to. No, the professor is a fineman, but what he doesn’t know about an airship would fill a few books.Now, Ned, if you’ll give me a hand we’ll connect the gasoline tank tothe motor, and then fit up the pilot house controls.”
The boys and their helpers were busily engaged that afternoon when aman, who, somehow, had made his way past the guard, sauntered into theshed.
“When do you fellers calculate on givin’ th’ circus?” he drawled.
“This isn’t a circus,” replied Jerry, hoping the fellow was not goingto be annoyingly curious.
“No? Wa’al, you’re goin’ t’ give an exhibition; aren’t you?”
“Oh, we’ll let the people see us fly, of course, when we get ready,”answered the tall lad, good-naturedly.
“Fly? Do you really mean t’ say you folks are goin’ up in that thing?”asked the man, incredulously.
“Well, we’ve done it many times before this, and if all goes rightwe’ll do it again,” spoke Ned.
“Great Peter!” cried the man. “I thought it was only a model t’ lookat. An’ you’re really goin’ t’ fly?”
“We sure are,” said Jerry. “Here, Ned, just hold this bolt, while Itighten the nut, will you?”
“What does this handle do?” asked the man, as he pulled one of the manylevers.
“That works the elevating rudder,” replied Jerry. “Please don’t touchit.”
“All right,” agreed the man, good-naturedly. “But what are you folksaimin’ t’ do when you do get your shebang together?”
It was the question the boys had been anticipating ever since theyarrived in Kabspell, and they were ready for it.
“Did you see that small man--the one with no hair on his head?” askedJerry, with a wink at his chums.
“The one I passed as I was comin’ in? Yes, I saw him.”
“Well, he wants to get a lot of queer bugs--insects--snakes and thelike,” went on Jerry. “He’s a professor in a big college--a bugcollector. We’re with him.”
“Oh, shucks!” exclaimed the man, as if much disappointed. “I calculatedyou were prospectors, or something like that.”
“Why, is there gold out here?” asked Jerry, as innocently as he could.
“Wa’al, there is for them as knows where it is,” spoke the man with asharp look at the boys and the two Westerners. But our friends did notbetray themselves--at least they hoped they did not.
The work went on apace, and soon the inquisitive man was peering aboutat another part of the airship.
“What’s this wheel for?” he asked. As he spoke he gave it a turn, andat once a series of thunderous explosions followed--like a battery ofmachine guns going off.
“Great Peter!” cried the man, and with one jump he leaped through anopen window of the shed, and, running across the field, he yelled:
“She’s going to blow up! Skedaddle, everybody!”
The crowd, which was always assembled about the shed, turned to flee,but the explosions suddenly ceased.
“What was it?” cried Bob, seeing that there was no danger. He and Nedhad run for the engine room, in which Jerry had been working when theman meddled with the wheel.
“Oh, that fellow started the motor, and the muffler wasn’t attached,”answered the tall lad. “No damage done. I stopped her in time. Butmaybe it will teach him a lesson.”
It seemed to, for the fellow did not come back. Instead, he went to acertain resort in the town, and there he met a man with a long scar onhis face--a livid scar.
“Well, did you find out anything?” asked the man with the scar. “Didyou get next, Ike Weldon?”
“All I found out, Jake Paxton, was that they’re hunting for bugs--as ifthey couldn’t get enough without lookin’ for ’em. That’s what they toldme, and then th’ shebang blew up!”
“Blew up--how?”
“Well, I monkeyed with it, I guess,” and Ike Weldon told of the resultsof his visit.
“Say, you’re a pretty one to send to get information!” exclaimed Jake,with contempt. “I thought you knew your business!”
“I do. They’re after bugs, I tell you!”
“I don’t believe it. They wouldn’t come away out here with an airshipfor that. I’ll have to fix up some sort of a disguise and g
o myself.They saw me at the Junction, where I changed my ticket, and they mightknow me. But I’m sure that’s the man we want to keep track of--thatbiggest Westerner. I’ll go around there myself to-morrow.”
“Well, don’t go to handling anything, or you might get blown up too,”advised his crony. “Hello!” he exclaimed, suddenly. “Here comes thatother chap from the East--the one who arrived a few days ago--Nixon hisname is. Maybe he knows something about these chaps.”
“I’ll see if I can get him to talk,” remarked Jake. “I think I’m onthe right trail, and just as soon as some of the other boys get hereI’ll make sure of it. They know Harvey Brill, and I don’t--only bydescription. Yes, I’ll see what I can get out of this Nixon chap.”
The Motor Boys on the Border; Or, Sixty Nuggets of Gold Page 15