Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  He crept down the lane and kept on the south side of the hedge until he came opposite the hangar, thus avoiding the house and grounds. The canvas top of the shed showed white in the moonlight, not twenty feet from where he stood, and the chauffeur was pressing aside the thick hedge to find an opening when a deep bay, followed by a growl, smote his ears. He paused, his head thrust half through the foliage, his blood chilled with terror as there bounded from the hangar a huge bloodhound, its eyes glaring red in the dim light, its teeth bared menacingly.

  Tot thought he was “done for,” as he afterward told Mr. Burthon, when with a jerk the great beast stopped — a yard from the hedge — and the clank of a chain showed it could come no farther.

  Tyler caught his breath,. broke from the hedge and sprinted down the lane at his best gait, followed by a succession of angry bays from the hound.

  “Confound Cumberford!” he muttered. “The brute was in that cage, and he went to town to get it, so’s to keep me out of the hangar. That’s two I owe this guy, an’ I’ll get even with him in time, sure’s fate.”

  There was no car at this hour, so the discomfited chauffeur had to trudge seven miles to the city, where he arrived at early dawn.

  The man was not in an amiable frame of mind when he brought Mr. Burthon’s automobile to the club, where his master lived, at nine o’clock. As he drove the broker to the office he related his news.

  “Cumberford!” cried Mr. Burthon. “Are you sure it was Cumberford?”

  “Yes, sir; I remember him well. Took him to your office and the bank, you know, the time you had some deal with him; and he tried to tell me how to run the car. Me! I spotted him right away for a fresh guy from the East, an’ now he’s kicked me out of Kane’s hangar an’ set a dog on me. Oh, yes; I know Cumberford.”

  “So do I,” said Burthon, grimly.

  Tyler caught the tone.

  “I’ll do him yet, sir. Leave it to me. I couldn’t get much of a pointer on Kane’s aeroplane; hadn’t time, you know; but it looked like a rosebud an’ I guess he’s got something good. I’m going to find out. I’ll take out a dose for the dog that’ll put him to sleep in a wink, and then I’ll go all over the thing careful.”

  “Never mind the airship,” said Mr. Burthon. “I’ve found out what I wanted to know.”

  “What! you have, sir?” exclaimed the chauffeur, amazed.

  “Yes,” was the quiet reply. “That is, if you’re positive the man at the Kanes’ was Cumberford.”

  “Sure? Why, I’d stake my life on it, sir.”

  “Then I’ll follow the clue in my own way,” said Mr. Burthon, alighting from the car.

  The discovery made by Tyler necessitated a change in the proposed campaign. The broker entered his office, sat down at his desk and fell into one of his fits of deep abstraction. The new “secretary,” noting this, chewed her gum reflectively a moment and then began to read a novel, keeping the volume concealed behind her desk.

  “If Cumberford was in the hangar,” Mr. Burthon mused, “he has undertaken to back Kane’s aeroplane, and I’m too late to get hold of the machine in the way I planned. I suppose the fool offered better terms than I did, to blind those simple children, and so the Kanes turned me down. Never mind. Cumberford has beaten me on two deals, but the third trick shall be mine. I must get hold of the designs of Kane’s aeroplane in some way; perhaps I may find them at the patent office. Then I’ll regulate things so the boy’s invention will prove a failure. The result ought to satisfy me: it would cause Cumberford serious loss, ruin young Kane, and — bring Orissa to me for assistance. But Tyler can’t manage the job; I must have a man more clever than he is, and direct the intrigue in person.”

  The secretary read and chewed most of the day. When she quit “work” at five o’clock, Mr. Burthon was still thinking.

  CHAPTER XIII

  SYBIL IS CRITICAL

  Steve was now progressing finely with the work on the Kane Aircraft and believed he would be able to overcome all the imperfections that had disclosed themselves during the first trial. Mr. Cumberford came to the hangar nearly every day, now, and Steve and Orissa began to wonder how he found time to attend to other business — provided he had any. On the day of Tyler’s visit he had announced it was his last trip to see the Kanes, as he had been summoned to Chicago to attend a directors’ meeting and from there would go on to New York. But having discovered that Burthon was intent upon some secret intrigue, which could bode no good to his proteges — the Kanes — he promptly changed his mind and informed Steve on a subsequent visit that he had arranged affairs at home and was now free to spend the entire winter in Southern California.

  “My daughter likes it here,” he added, “and kicks up fewer rows than she does at home; so that’s a strong point in favor of this location. Aviation interests me. I’ve joined the Aero Club out here and subscribed for the big meet to be held in January, at Dominguez Field. That’s when we are to show the world the Kane invention, my lad, and I think it will be an eye opener to most of the crowd present.”

  “How does your mine, the Queen of Hearts, get along?” asked Orissa.

  “It continues to pay big — even better than I had hoped. Burthon must be pretty sore over that deal by this time. Speaking of my sainted brother-in-law, I’ve just made a discovery. He owns the mortgage on your place.”

  “Why, we got the money from the Security Bank!” exclaimed Orissa.

  “I know. I went there. Thought I’d take up the mortgage myself, but found Burthon had bought it. Now, the question is, why?”

  Neither brother nor sister could imagine; but Cumberford knew.

  “He hopes you won’t be able to meet it, and then he’ll foreclose and turn you out,” he said. “But you’re not the principal game he’s after; he’s shooting me over your heads. Burthon is miffed because I let you have the money, but believes I haven’t any financial or personal interest in you beyond that. If he can prevent your aircraft from flying he’ll make me lose my money and also ruin you two youngsters. That’s doubtless his game. That’s why he sent his man here to spy upon you.”

  “But that is absurd! Burthon can’t prevent our success,” declared Steve. “Even if some minor parts go wrong, the aircraft will fly as strongly and as well as anything now in existence.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” cautioned Mr. Cumberford. “You and your machine may be all right, but that’s no reason why Burthon can’t push failure at you, or even prevent you from flying. We must watch him.”

  “I do not believe the man hates us,” observed Orissa, thoughtfully. “Mr. Burthon is a little queer and — and unscrupulous, at times; but I don’t consider him a bad man, by any means.”

  “I know him better than you do, and he hates me desperately,” replied Cumberford.

  “He says that — that you abused his sister,” doubtfully remarked the girl.

  “Well, I did,” said Cumberford, calmly. “I pounded her two or three times. Once I choked her until it’s a wonder she ever revived.”

  “Oh, how dreadful!” exclaimed Orissa, shrinking back.

  “Isn’t it?” he agreed, lighting a cigarette. “Only a brute would lift his hand against a woman. But Burthon’s sister — my wife — had a fiendish temper, and her tantrums aroused all the evil in my nature — there’s plenty there, I assure you. It was the time I choked her that Burthon had me arrested for cruelty. She had put poison in my coffee and I took the fluid into court with me. Burthon said I was lying and I asked him to drink the coffee to establish his sister’s innocence. But he wouldn’t. Pity, wasn’t it? The judge begged my pardon and said I ought to have choked her a moment longer. But no; I’m glad I didn’t, for she died naturally in the end. My dear daughter, whom I sincerely love, is like her lamented mother, except that I can trust her not to poison me.”

  “Doesn’t she love you in return?” asked Orissa. “Sybil? Why, she’s tremendously fond of me. My daughter,” and his voice grew suddenly tender, “has been for years — is now
— the only person I live for. We’re chums, we two. The poor child can’t help her inherited tendencies, you know, and I rather enjoy the fact that she keeps me guessing what she’s going to do next. It — er — interests me, so to speak. I like Sybil.”

  Sybil interested Orissa, too. Her father’s reports of her were so startlingly condemnatory, and his affection for her so evident, that Orissa’s curiosity was aroused concerning her. Mr. Cumberford, in spite of his peculiarities and deprecating remarks concerning himself had won the friendship of both Stephen and Orissa by this time; for whatever he might be to others he had certainly proved himself a friend in need to them. It was evident he liked the Kanes and sought their companionship, for the aircraft could scarcely account for his constant attendance at the hangar.

  “I would like to meet your daughter,” said the girl, thoughtfully.

  “Would you, really?” he asked, eagerly. “Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt Sybil to know you. I’ll bring her out here tomorrow, if she’ll come. Never can tell what she will do or won’t do, you know. Interesting, isn’t it?”

  “Quite so,” she concurred, laughing at his whimsical tone.

  Because of this conversation the Kanes awaited Mr. Cumberford’s arrival next day with keen curiosity. Steve advanced the opinion that the girl wouldn’t come, but Orissa thought she would. And she did. When the motor car stopped in front of the bungalow there was a girl in the back seat and Orissa ran down the path to welcome her.

  A pale, composed face looked out from beneath a big black hat with immense black plumes. A black lace waist with black silk bolero and skirt furnished a somber costume scarcely suited to so young a girl, for Sybil Cumberford could not have been much older than Orissa, if any. Her father was right when he claimed that Sybil was not beautiful. She had high, prominent cheek bones, a square chin and a nose with a decided uplift to the point. But her brown hair was profuse and exquisitely silky; her dark eyes large, well opened and far seeing; her slight form carried with unconscious grace.

  Orissa’s critical glance took in these points at once, and intuitively she decided that Sybil Cumberford was not unattractive and ought to win friends. That she had a strong personality was evident; also the girl whom her father had affectionately called a “demon” was quiet, reserved and undemonstrative — at least during this first interview.

  She acknowledged the introduction to Orissa with a rather haughty bow, alighting from the car without noticing Miss Kane’s outstretched hand.

  “Which way is the aeroplane, Daddy?” she asked, speaking not flippantly, but in low, quiet tones.

  “I’ll lead the way; you girls may follow,” he said.

  As they went up the path Orissa, anxious to be sociable and to put the stranger at her ease, said brightly:

  “Don’t you think the ride out here is beautiful?”

  “Yes,” responded Sybil.

  “The orange groves are so attractive, just now,” continued Orissa.

  There was no response.

  “I hope you enjoyed it, so you will be tempted to come again,” resumed the little hostess.

  Miss Cumberford said nothing. Her father, a step in advance, remarked over his shoulder: “My daughter seldom wastes words. If you wish her to speak you must address to her a direct question; then she will answer it or not, as she pleases. It’s her way, and you’ll have to overlook it.”

  Orissa flushed and glanced sidewise to get a peep at Sybil’s face, that she might note how the girl received this personal criticism. But the features were as unemotional as wax and the dark, mysterious eyes were directed toward the hangar, the roof of which now showed plainly. It was hard to continue a conversation under such adverse conditions and Orissa did not try. In silence they traversed the short distance to the shed, where Steve met them, a little abashed at receiving a young lady in his workshop.

  But Mr. Cumberford’s daughter never turned her eyes upon him. She gave a graceful little nod when presented to the inventor, but ignored him to stare at the aircraft, which riveted her attention at once.

  “This, Sybil,” said her father, enthusiastically, “is the famous aeroplane to be known in history as the Kane Aircraft. It’s as far ahead of the ordinary biplane as a sewing machine is ahead of a needle and thimble. It will do things, you know. So it — er — interests me.”

  It seemed to interest her, also. Examining the details of construction with considerable minuteness she began asking questions that rather puzzled Mr. Cumberford, who retreated in favor of Steve. The inventor explained, and as all his heart and soul were in the aeroplane he explained so simply and comprehensively that Sybil’s dark eyes suddenly flashed upon his face, and clung there until the young fellow paused, hesitated, and broke down embarrassed.

  Orissa, smiling at Steve’s shyness, picked up the subject and dilated upon it at length, for the girl had every detail at her tongue’s end and understood the mechanism fully as well as her brother did. The visitor listened to her with interest, and when she had no more questions to ask stood in absorbed meditation before the aeroplane, as if in a dream, and wholly disregarded the others present.

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE FLYING FEVER

  Mr. Cumberford said frankly to Steve and Orissa:

  “Don’t expect too much of Sybil, or you’ll be disappointed. She’s peculiar, and the things that interest her are often those the world cares nothing for. Anything odd or unusual is sure to strike her fancy; that’s why she’s so enraptured with the aircraft.”

  The word enraptured did not seem, to Steve, to describe Sybil’s attitude at all; but Orissa, watching the girl’s face, decided it was especially appropriate. They left her standing before the machine and went on with their work, while Mr. Cumberford ignored his daughter and smoked cigarettes while he watched, as usual, every movement of the young mechanic.

  “Saw Burthon this morning,” he remarked, presently.

  “Did he say anything?” asked Steve.

  “No. Just smiled. That shows he’s up to something. Wonder what it is.”

  Steve shook his head.

  “I don’t see how that man can possibly injure me,” he said, musingly. “I’ve gone straight ahead, in an honest fashion, and minded my own business. As for the machine, that’s honest, too, and all my improvements are patented.”

  “They’re what?”

  “Patented, sir; registered in the patent office at Washington.”

  “Oho!”

  Steve looked at him, surprised.

  “Well, sir?”

  “You’re an irresponsible idiot, Stephen Kane.”

  “Because I patented my inventions?”

  “Yes, sir; for placing full descriptions and drawings of them before the public until you’ve startled the aviation world and are ready to advertise what you’ve done.”

  Steve stared, a perception of Cumberford’s meaning gradually coming to him.

  “Why, as for that,” he said a little uneasily, “no one ever takes the trouble to read up new patents, there are so many of them. And, after all, it’s a protection.”

  “Is it? I can put another brace in that new elevator of yours and get a patent on it as an improvement. The brace won’t help it any, but it will give me the right to use it. I’m not positive I couldn’t prevent you from using yours, if I got mine publicly exhibited and on the market first.” Steve was bewildered, and Orissa looked very grave. But Mr. Cumberford lighted another cigarette and added:

  “Nevertheless, I wouldn’t worry. As you say, the patent office is a rubbish heap which few people ever care to examine. Is everything covered by patent?”

  “Everything but the new automatic balance. I haven’t had time to send that on.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “The old one is patented, but it proved a failure and nearly killed me. The one I am now completing is entirely different.”

  “Good. Don’t patent it until after the aviation meet. It’s your strongest point. Keep that one surprise, at lea
st, up your sleeve.”

  As Steve was considering this advice Sybil Cumberford came softly to her father’s side and said: “Daddy, I want to fly.”

  “To flee or to flew?” he asked, banteringly, at the same time looking at her intently.

  “To fly in the air.”

  Mr. Cumberford sighed.

  “Kane, what will a duplicate of your aircraft cost?”

  “I can’t say exactly, sir,” replied the boy, smiling.

  “Shall we order one, Sybil?”

  She stood staring straight ahead, with that impenetrable, mysterious look in her dark eyes which was so typical of the girl. Cumberford threw away his cigarette and coughed.

  “We’ll consider that proposition some time, Steve,” he continued, rather hastily. “Meantime, perhaps my daughter could make a trial flight in your machine.”

  “Perhaps,” said Steve, doubtfully.

  “Will it carry two?”

  “It would support the weight of two easily,” replied the young man; “but I would be obliged to rig up a second seat.”

  “Do so, please,” requested Miss Cumberford, in her even, subdued voice. “When will it be ready?”

  “The aircraft will be complete in about ten days from now; but before I attempt to carry a passenger I must give it a thorough personal test,” said Steve, with decision. “You may watch my flights, Miss Cumberford, if you wish, and after I’ve proved the thing to be correct and safe I’ll do what I can to favor you — if you’re not afraid, and still want to make the trial.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and turned away.

  “I’ll go myself, some time,” observed Mr. Cumberford, after a pause. “Flying interests me.”

  Orissa was much amused. She had not known many girls of her own age, but such as she had met were all commonplace creatures compared with this strange girl, who at present seemed unable to tear herself away from the airship. Sybil did not convey the impression of being ill-bred or forward, however unconventional she might be; yet it seemed to Orissa that she constantly held herself firmly repressed, yet alert and watchful, much like a tiger crouched ready to spring upon an unsuspecting prey. In spite of this uncanny attribute, Orissa found herself powerfully drawn toward the peculiar girl, and resolved to make an attempt to win her confidence and friendship.