With this thought in mind she joined Sybil, who was again examining the aeroplane with rapt attention. While she stood at her side the girl asked, without glancing up:
“Have you ever made a flight?”
“No,” replied Orissa.
“Why not?”
“I haven’t had an opportunity.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“I imagine I would enjoy a trip through the air,” answered Orissa; “that is, after I became accustomed to being suspended in such a thin element.”
“You seem to understand your brother’s invention perfectly.”
“Oh, I do, in its construction and use. You see, I’ve been with Steve from the beginning; also I’ve examined several other modern aeroplanes and watched the flights at Dominguez Field. Naturally I’m enthusiastic over aviation, but I haven’t yet considered the idea of personally attempting a flight. To manage a machine in the air requires a quick eye, a clear brain and a lot of confidence and courage.”
“Is it so dangerous?” asked Miss Cumberford quietly.
“Not if you have the qualities I mention and a bit of experience or training to help you in emergencies. I’m sure an aeroplane is as safe as a steam car, and a little safer than an automobile; but a certain amount of skill is required to manage even those.”
The girl’s lips curled scornfully, as if she impugned this statement; but she remained silent for a while before continuing her catechism. Then she asked:
“Do you mean to try flying?”
“Perhaps so, some day,” said Orissa, smiling; “when aeroplanes have become so common that my fears are dissipated. But, really, I haven’t given the matter a thought. That is Steve’s business, just now. All I’m trying to do is help him get ready.”
“You believe his device to be practical?”
“It’s the best I have ever seen, and I’ve examined all the famous aeroplanes.”
“What has my father to do with this invention?” Orissa was surprised.
“Hasn’t he told you?” she asked.
“Only that it ‘interests him;’ but many things do that.”
“We needed money to complete the aircraft, and Mr. Cumberford kindly let us have it,” explained the girl.
“What did he demand in return?”
“Nothing but our promise to repay him in case we succeed.”
Sybil shot a swift glance toward her father.
“Look out for him,” she murmured. “He’s a dangerous man — in business deals.”
“But this isn’t business,” protested Orissa earnestly; “indeed, his act was wholly irregular from a business standpoint. As a matter of fact, Mr. Cumberford has been very generous and unselfish in his attitude toward us. We like your father, Miss Cumberford, and — we trust him.”
The girl stood silent a moment; then she slowly turned her face to Orissa with a rare and lovely smile which quite redeemed its plainness. From that moment she lost her reserve, toward Orissa at least, and it was evident the praise of her father had fully won her heart.
Day by day, thereafter, Sybil came with Mr. Cumberford to the hangar, until the important time arrived when Steve was to test the reconstructed aircraft. By Cumberford’s advice the trial was made in the early morning, and in order to be present both father and daughter accepted the hospitality of the Kanes for the previous night, Sybil sharing Orissa’s bed while Steve gave up his room to Mr. Cumberford and stretched himself upon a bench in the hangar.
Mrs. Kane knew that her son was to make an attempt to fly at daybreak, but was quite undisturbed. The description of the Kane Aircraft, which Orissa had minutely given her, seemed to inspire her with full confidence, and if she had a thought of danger she never mentioned it to anyone. The Cumberfords were very nice to Mrs. Kane, while she, in return, accepted their friendship unreservedly. Orissa knew her mother to be an excellent judge of character, for while her affliction prevented her from reading a face her ear was trained to catch every inflection of a voice, and by that she judged with rare accuracy. Once she said to her daughter: “Mr. Cumberford is a man with a fine nature who has in some way become embittered; perhaps through unpleasant experiences. He does not know his real self, and mistrusts it; for which reason his actions may at times be eccentric, or even erratic. But under good influences he will be found reliable and a safe friend. His daughter, on the contrary, knows her own character perfectly and abhors it. As circumstances direct she will become very bad or very good, for she has a strong, imperious nature and may only be influenced through her affections. I think it is good for her to have you for a friend.”
This verdict coincided well with Orissa’s own observations and she accepted it as veritable. Yet Sybil was a constant enigma to her and seldom could she understand the impulses that dominated her. The girl was mysterious in many ways. She saw everything and everyone without looking directly at them; she found hidden meanings in the most simple and innocent phrases; always she seemed suspecting an underlying motive in each careless action, and Orissa was often uneasy at Sybil’s implied suggestion that she was not sincere. The girl would be cold and silent for days together; then suddenly become animated and voluble — a mood that suited her much better than the first. Steve said to his sister: “You may always expect the unexpected of Sybil.” Which proved he had also been studying this peculiar girl.
CHAPTER XV
A FINAL TEST
It was the morning of the tenth of December that the eager little group assembled at dawn on Marston’s pasture to witness the test of the Kane Aircraft.
Steve was so occupied with his final adjustments and anxiety lest he should overlook some important point, that he never thought of danger. He would not have remembered even his goggles had not Orissa handed them to him and told him to put them on.
This was the first time Mr. Cumberford had witnessed a performance of the aeroplane, yet he was much less excited than his daughter, who could not withdraw her gaze from the device and was nervously attentive to every move that the young aviator made. Orissa, confident of the result, was most composed of all.
When all was ready Steve took his seat, started the motors, and when they had acquired full speed threw in the clutch. The aeroplane ran less than fifty feet on its wheels before it began to rise, when it steadily soared into the air and mounted to an elevation of several hundred feet. By this time the aviator, who had kept a straight course, was half a dozen miles from the starting point; but now he made a wide circle and, returning, passed over Marston’s pasture at the same high altitude.
The speed of the aircraft was marvelous. Mr. Cumberford declared it was making a mile a minute, which estimate was probably correct. After circling for a while Steve descended to a hundred feet in a straight dive, holding the device in perfect control and maintaining at all times an exact balance. At a hundred feet he tested the rudders thoroughly, proving be could alter his course at will, make sharp turns and circle in a remarkably small space. Then, having been in the air twenty-seven minutes by the watch, he descended to the ground, rolled a hundred feet on his running gear and came to a halt a few paces away from the silent, fascinated group of watchers.
Not a hitch had occurred. The Kane Aircraft was as perfect a creation as its inventor had planned it to be.
Orissa gave Steve a kiss when he alighted, but said not a word. Sybil impulsively seized the aviator’s hands and pressed them until he flushed red. Mr. Cumberford lighted a fresh cigarette, nodded approvingly and said:
“All right, Steve. It — interests me.”
“It almost seemed alive,” remarked Steve, with pardonable exuberance. “Why, I believe it would fly bottom-side-up, if I asked it to!”
“Any changes necessary?” inquired Mr. Cumberford.
“Only one or two, and those unimportant. The steering-wheel is too loose and needs tightening. The left guy-wires are a bit too taut and need to be relieved. Half an hour’s tinkering and the aircraft will be as perfect as I know how to make it.”
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As they were wheeling it back to the hangar, Sybil asked:
“Weren’t you frightened, Mr. Kane, when you were so high above the earth?”
“Oh, no; it is far safer a mile up than it is fifty or a hundred feet. There are no dangerous air currents to contend with and the machine glides more smoothly the more air it has underneath it. When I am near the earth I sometimes get a little nervous, but never when I’m far up.”
“But suppose you should fall from that distance?”
“Fall? Oh, but you can’t fall very easily with this sort of a biplane. At any angle it’s a kind of a parachute, you know, for the hinged ends automatically spread themselves against the air pressure. And as for a tumble, you know that a fall of fifty feet would kill one as surely as a fall of several hundred feet. If a fellow can manage to stick to his aeroplane he’s pretty safe.”
“It seems such a frail thing,” observed Sybil, musingly.
“Just wooden ribs and canvas,” laughed Steve; “but anything stronger would be unnecessary, and therefore foolish.”
“Now, then,” said Mr. Cumberford, when the aircraft rested once more upon its rack, “I’ve something to tell you, Kane. I’ve known it for several days, but refrained from speaking until you had made your trial.”
There was an ominous suggestion in the words. Steve turned and looked at him questioningly.
“Any bad news, sir?”
“Time will determine if it’s bad or good. Anyhow, it’s news. Burthon is building an aircraft.”
“An aeroplane?”
“I said an aircraft.”
“But that word designates only my own machine.”
“Burthon is building your machine.”
Steve stared at him, doubtful if he heard aright. Orissa stood motionless, growing white and red by turns. Sybil’s lips curled in a sneer as she said:
“My clever uncle! What a resourceful man he is.”
“I — I don’t believe I understand,” stammered Steve.
“It’s simple enough,” replied Cumberford. “Burthon sent to Washington for copies of your plans and specifications, has built a hangar and workshop over South Pasadena way, and employed a clever mechanic from Cleveland to superintend the construction — already well under way.”
“How do you know this, sir?” inquired Steve, breathless.
“The clever mechanic from Cleveland is my own man, who has been my confidential agent for years.”
“And you permit him to do this work!” cried the young man, indignantly.
“To be sure. If Brewster loses the job, some one will get it who is not my agent. It is the only way I can keep accurate account of what Burthon is up to.”
They were all silent for a time while they considered this startling information. By and by Cumberford said:
“Burthon has joined the Aero Club, has donated a handsome cup for the best endurance flight during the coming meet at Dominguez, and in some way has made himself so popular with the officials that he has been appointed a member of the committee on arrangements. I dropped in at the Club yesterday, for I’m a member, and made this discovery. My scheming brother-in-law has some dusky, deep laid plan, and is carrying it out with particular attention to detail.”
“Do you think it concerns us, sir?” asked Orissa, anxiously.
“Yes. It isn’t extraordinary that Burthon should take a fancy to aviation. He is full of fads and fancies, and such a thing is liable to interest him. It interests me. But the meat in the nut is the fact that he is building a copy of the Kane Aircraft, merely adding a few details which he will declare are improvements.”
“Can’t we issue an injunction and stop him?” asked Steve.
“I’ve seen a lawyer about that. We can’t prove infringement at this stage of the game and it would be folly to attempt it. Burthon’s plan is to exhibit his machine first, then keep yours off the field during the meet and afterward claim that you are infringing upon his rights. He has organized a stock company, keeping most of the stock himself, has entered his device in all the aviation tournaments throughout the country, and is issuing a circular offering the machines for sale. I have a hand proof, fresh from the printer, of this circular.”
“Who will be his aviator?” asked Steve, with puckered brows.
“His former chauffeur, Mr. Totham Tyler, is one. He is now looking for another, also.”
Steve drew a long breath.
“What can we do?” he asked in a bewildered tone.
“Checkmate him,” was the composed reply.
“How, sir?”
“Well, we know pretty well all Burthon’s plans. He doesn’t suspect we know a thing; believes he will be able to keep his secret until his aeroplane is ready and he can announce it in the newspapers and create a sensation. He has concocted a very pretty trick. Until this date no one has ever heard of the Kane Aircraft. After the Burthon Improved Biplane is exploited and its praise on every tongue, you won’t be able to get even a hearing with your invention, much less a chance to fly it.”
Steve sat down and covered his face with his hands. His attitude was one of despair.
“When will Mr. Burthon’s machine be finished?” asked Orissa, thoughtfully.
“He expects to make the first trial a week from to-morrow. He has kept a force of expert men at work, and they haven’t attempted to make the Kane engines, but are using a type that has worked successfully in many biplanes. So his machine has grown into existence very quickly.”
“A week from to-morrow,” repeated Orissa, softly. “And Steve is ready to-day.”
Steve looked up quickly. Sybil laughed at him. “You silly boy,” said she. “Can’t you understand what Daddy means by a checkmate?”
Steve turned to Mr. Cumberford, who was lighting a fresh cigarette.
“If you will place the matter in my hands,” said that gentleman, “I will proceed to put a spoke in Burthon’s wheel, so to speak. Heretofore, Steve, I have been a mere onlooker, a — an interested friend, I may say. At this juncture you’d better make me your manager.”
“Would you accept the position?” asked the boy. “Yes; there isn’t much else to interest me just now, and — I hate Burthon.”
“Poor uncle!” sighed Sybil.
“On what terms will you undertake this, sir?” Steve inquired, with anxiety.
“Why, I may have to spend a lot of money; probably will; and my time’s valuable; when I’m not here I’m moping at the Alexandria Hotel; so I propose you give me ten per cent of your profits for the first three years.”
“That is absurd, sir,” declared Steve. “There will be little profit at first, and ten per cent of it wouldn’t amount to anything.”
Mr. Cumberford smiled — a grim smile that was one of his peculiarities.
“It’ll do, Steve. I’ll make it pay me well, see if I don’t. But you may add to the demand, if you like, by promising to present my daughter the fourth complete Kane Aircraft your factory turns out.”
“The first!” cried Steve.
“No, the fourth. We want the first three to go where they’ll advertise us. Is it a bargain, Mr. Kane?”
Steve grasped his hand.
“Of course, sir,” he replied gratefully. “I’m not sure we can defeat Mr. Burthon’s conspiracy, but I know you will do all that is possible. And thank you, sir,” he added, again pressing the elder man’s hand.
Orissa took Mr. Cumberford’s hand next. She did not express her gratitude in words, but the man understood her and to hide his embarrassment began to search for his cigarette case. As for Sybil, she regarded the scene with an amused smile, and there was a queer look in her dark eyes.
“Now,” said Orissa, “let us go in to breakfast. You must all be nearly famished.”
“Yes; let us eat, so that I can get back to town,” agreed Mr. Cumberford, cheerfully. “The campaign begins this very morning, and it may take a few people by surprise. Remember, Steve, you’re to stand ready to carry out any plans your manage
r makes.”
“I understand, sir.”
CHAPTER XVI
THE OPENING GUN
Sybil rode with her father into town. On the way she said:
“You puzzle me. One would imagine you are playing fair with the Kanes.”
“Mere imagination,” he returned, gruffly.
“Yes,” she agreed; “your nature is to plot and intrigue. The deeper, the more stealthy and unsuspected the plot, the more characteristic is it of my subtle parent.”
“True,” he said.
“But here is a condition that puzzles me, as I have remarked. I understand how you won the confidence of the Kanes by posing as generous and unselfish. That was quite like you. But to-day you had them in your power. You might have demanded anything — everything — yet you accepted a mere ten per cent. Now I’m really wondering what your game is.”
It was evident he did not relish his daughter’s criticism, for his usually placid brow bore a heavy frown. Still, he answered lightly:
“You’re stirring too deep; you’re roiling the pot. Why don’t you look on the surface?”
“Oh! how stupid of me,” she said in a relieved voice.
“To be a diverse scoundrel,” announced her father, “is the acme of diabolic art. From complication to simplicity is but a step, yet requires audacity. Most rascals fail to realize that an honest act, by way of contrast, affords more satisfaction than persistent chicanery will produce. We must have variety in our pleasures in order to get the most from them.”
“To be sure,” said Sybil.
“Meantime, you are forgetting your Uncle Burthon.”
They rode in silence for a time. Then the girl nestled a little closer to her father’s side and murmured:
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 541