They made the start with care, all the others at the homestead being present to witness the trial. The Dartaway went up slowly, with Dick in the center, at the wheel, and Sam on one side of him and Tom on the other.
“Hurrah! we are going to make it!” cried Tom, as the biplane arose like some big bird.
“It’s a strain though,” answered Dick. “We won’t be able to fly very high nor very long.”
“But it’s great to be up together!” murmured Sam.
They flew for nearly ten minutes, making wide circles and a big figure eight. They went over the house and the barn, and in plain sight of several surrounding farms, men, women and children coming out to look at them. Once more the Rover boys were the talk of the whole country-side.
“Ain’t nothing they can’t do,” said one of the farmers living near. “If they tackle a thing it’s plumb bound to go through, every time!”
“It’s because they are so full of grit and push,” answered his wife. “Wish our Jed was like ’em,” she added, wistfully.
“Jed ain’t never had no chanct, Mirandy.”
“Boys like them Rovers make their own chances, Silas,” she retorted.
That evening it was Tom who made a proposal that met with instant approval from his brothers.
“Let’s go to the college in the biplane,” he said.
“Hurrah! just the cream!” returned Sam. “Say, won’t the fellows stare when they see us!”
“Very nice, but we can’t very well fly all the way from here to Ashton,” put in Dick, mentioning the town near which Brill College was located.
“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” explained Tom. “I meant to fly from Ashton to Brill. We could ship the biplane to Ashton in secret, put it together on the sly, and create a big sensation by coming down right on the college campus.”
“Tom, you’re a wonder!” cried Sam. “It’s the best plan ever! Oh, let’s do it!”
“Wonder where we could ship it to, so the other fellows wouldn’t get on to what was doing?” mused Dick.
“Why not ship it to Mr. Sanderson?” suggested Sam. The man he mentioned was a farmer living some distance from the college. The boys had once done the farmer’s daughter Minnie a great favor, saving her from insults at the hands of Jerry Koswell and Dudd Flockley.
“That’s the talk!” cried Tom. “He’ll take care of it and let us put it together in one of his open fields. Then we can make the fellows at Brill open their eyes.”
The new idea pleased all the youths immensely, and the next day a long letter of explanation was sent to Mr. Sanderson, and he was asked to telegraph a reply. The biplane was taken apart and packed up for transportation, and then the boys packed their trunks and dress-suit cases, and got ready to “go back to the greasy grind,” as Tom expressed it.
It must not be supposed that the lads had forgotten to write to the Stanhopes and the Lanings, and to their college friends. Numerous letters had been mailed and about an equal number had been received. The girls were all going to Hope, but one week later than the boys would have to depart for Brill. Nothing more had been seen or heard of Crabtree or Sobber, for which all were thankful.
“Here’s a letter from William Philander Tubbs,” said Tom. “I sent him a letter just for fun, asking him the style in socks this fall. Listen to his reply.” And he read the following:
“I have been making diligent inquiries about the shades in socks, my dearest Thomas, but the storekeepers seem to be a little undecided. Some think that Rambler Red will prevail while others favor Nile Green and a new shade called Baby’s Breath. Personally I favor Baby’s Breath and have purchased one dozen of that shade. If I get any more definite news about shades I will wire you, because I know what a dreadful thing it is not to have the shade that is really and truly fashionable.”
“Three cheers for William Philander and his Baby’s Breath socks!” cried Sam. “He’s the true and only artist!”
“Baby’s Breath!” murmured Tom. “Now wouldn’t that get your scalp-lock?” And then there was a merry laugh all around.
There was likewise a letter from Max Spangler, and another from Stanley Browne, stating they were already on their way to Brill. Then, just before the boys were ready to leave home, came a letter from Songbird Powell.
“I’ll bet it’s in verse,” said Dick. “Songbird couldn’t write prose to save his life.”
“We’ll soon see,” said Sam, who held the communication, and he tore it open. “You win,” he added, and then read the following, after the date line:
“My dearest boys
I’m filled with joys
To think that we
Together shall be
In a week or more!
Oh, the fun in store!
And also the work—
Which we can’t shirk—
And the pleasant meetings,
And pleasant greetings,—”
“He was thinking of Minnie Sanderson when he wrote that,” interrupted Tom.
“Sure thing,” returned Dick; for all of the Rovers knew that the would-be poet was deeply smitten with the farmer’s daughter. He had written several poems about her, and had also given her several presents.
“Well, there are twelve pages of the doggerel,” said Sam, glancing over the sheets. “Here, you can read over my shoulders,” and this was done, amid much merriment. Songbird had but little news and promised to be at college when they arrived.
“Oh, I hope the Dartaway carries us there in good shape,” murmured Tom. “It will be an arrival worth remembering!”
Before he left home Dick had a long talk with his father and his Uncle Randolph. When he rejoined his brothers he was unusually sober.
“What is it, dad’s business affairs?” queried Sam.
“Yes, Sam.”
“Are they in bad shape?” questioned Tom, quickly. “What’s gone wrong?”
“It’s something about those mining shares that dad and Uncle Randolph invested in,” answered Dick. “I’ll give you the particulars later. They don’t want Aunt Martha to know about it, for it will only make her worry without doing any good. I’m afraid dad and Uncle Randolph are in it bad,” went on Dick, soberly.
“Can’t something be done?” asked Tom.
“Not just now. Dad is going to Chicago about it next week again.”
“Does he and uncle stand to lose much?” questioned Sam.
“Yes, a good deal—more in fact than they can afford.”
“Phew! That’s too bad!” murmured the youngest Rover, and Tom shook his head soberly, and forgot all about the parting jokes he had intended to play on Aleck Pop and Jack Ness.
At last came the time for the three Rover boys to leave home. The biplane had been shipped to Ashton by express and their trunks and suit cases had been forwarded on their railroad tickets. They were going a day ahead of time, and Mr. Sanderson had agreed to meet them and take them to his home.
“Good bye, my boys,” said the fond father, on parting. “Take good care of yourselves.”
“We will,” they answered as they shook hands.
“Learn all you can,” put in Randolph Rover.
“Take care and don’t get into trouble,” admonished Mrs. Rover, and then she kissed them tenderly.
“Don’t forget to let me know how matters go in Chicago, dad,” whispered Dick, to his parent.
“I’ll remember, my son.”
“And if I can aid you in any way, let me do it,—even if I have to leave Brill,” went on Dick.
“There is nothing to do at present, Dick. I must wait for that report.”
Soon the boys were in the touring car, with Jack Ness to bring the automobile back from the railroad station, he now being able to run the machine. Dick was at the wheel. Tom had cranked up, and off they sped, with a merry shout and with t
hose left behind waving their hands.
“Let her go, Dick!” sang out Tom.
“Good bye!” yelled Sam.
“Good bye!” came back faintly from the homestead.
Then a turn of the road shut out the house from view. Once again the Rover boys were off for college. Little did they dream of the strange adventures in store for them.
CHAPTER XII
A GRAND ARRIVAL
“Glad to see you, boys! You’re looking prime!”
It was the greeting of Mr. Sanderson, as the Rovers stepped from the train at Ashton. The farmer was waiting at the platform with a two-seated carriage to take them to his farm.
“How are you, Mr. Sanderson!” came from the three, and then all continued in a chorus: “Did the biplane get here?”
“Something got here—two boxes an’ several big bundles,” answered the farmer. “I had everything carted over to my place.”
“Two boxes and four bundles,” said Dick.
“Right you are. One of ’em putty heavy, too.”
“That was the engine, Mr. Sanderson,” vouchsafed Sam.
“Is that so! Well, times are sure changin’, an’ bymeby the hosses won’t be in it no more. So you calkerlate to fly over to the college.”
“We do, if we can get the machine into shape,” answered Tom. “It may be that something got broke on the way and will have to be mended,” he added, anxiously.
“Well, we didn’t break anything, Tom, take my word on that. If anything’s broke the railroad company done it.”
The boys were soon seated in the carriage and Mr. Sanderson took up the reins. As my old readers know, the farmer was proud of his horses and he had good reason to be, for they started off in fine style, and presently were passing everything on that long and somewhat dusty road.
“How is Miss Minnie?” asked Tom, on the way.
“Fust rate, Tom. She went drivin’ yesterday with that young feller from Brill that sprouts poetry.”
“Oh, then Songbird has really arrived!” cried Tom.
“He has.” Mr. Sanderson looked serious for a moment. “Say, is he any good—or is he all—well, all poetry?”
“Songbird is one of the best and smartest boys in the college, Mr. Sanderson,” said Dick, bound to put in a good word for their chum. “He likes to make up verses, but that isn’t all he can do. Some day he’ll be a good business man.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” answered the farmer; and the three Rover boys knew he was thinking of his only daughter Minnie, and of the attention Songbird Powell was paying to her.
It was not long before they came in sight of the Sanderson homestead, pleasantly located in a grove of trees. Minnie Sanderson was on the lookout for them—a round-faced, jolly young lady—and she waved her hand as the carriage came to a halt.
“Why didn’t you come in that wonderful airship!” she sang out gaily. “I’m dying to see you fly!”
“Because you have the machine here!” answered Sam.
“Oh, we’ve only got some bundles, and they don’t look a bit like a flying machine,” went on the girl. “But, say,” she added, her cheeks dimpling. “What a time I had yesterday, keeping your secret! Mr. Powell took me out riding,”—she blushed a trifle—“and when we came back he wanted to know what the bundles contained. I told him it was some kind of machinery. He saw the canvas and said he guessed pa was going to put up a windmill!”
“Thanks for keeping it dark!” cried Dick. “We want to surprise everybody at Brill.”
“You’ll have to be careful of what you do then,” went on the girl. “Some of the young men have been around, and I—well, I don’t like it.”
“Who was around?” asked Tom.
“Mr. Flockley, for one,” and Minnie bit her lip, for she had not forgotten how that dudish collegian had once insulted her,—the time the Rover boys had come to her rescue, as related in detail in “The Rover Boys at College.”
“Did he come to the house?” asked Sam.
“Oh, no, he merely walked through the orchard. But I guess he saw some of the packages.”
“He didn’t speak to you, did he?” asked Dick, bluntly.
“I didn’t give him the chance. When I saw him, I walked into the house, and he didn’t dare to follow me.”
It was almost supper time, and the boys had arranged to remain at the Sanderson homestead, instead of going to the rather poor hotel at Ashton. They had a merry time with the others over the repast, and then, even though it was late, they went down to the barn to inspect the boxes and bundles comprising the Dartaway.
“Everything seems to be all right,” said Dick. “We ought to be able to put her together in a day, if we all work hard enough.”
“We’ll get up at six in the morning,” said Sam.
So it was arranged, and Mr. Sanderson said he would call them. But this was unnecessary, for all were up and downstairs before the appointed hour, and before breakfast was served they had the boxes and bundles open and the various portions of the biplane ready for assembling.
“Can’t I help?” asked the farmer, who was much interested in what was going on.
“You can help us lift the engine,” said Dick. “That is rather heavy.”
The boys and the farmer worked until five o’clock in the afternoon over the biplane, knocking off a half hour for dinner. For that meal they had same fried chicken and fresh vegetables, and an apple pie made by Minnie which Tom declared was “a dream.”
“We’ll come and board with you,” said Dick, to the girl. “This sort of food goes away ahead of the college stuff; eh, boys?”
“Indeed it does!” cried Tom.
“Can’t be beaten,” put in Sam. And these compliments pleased the farmer’s daughter very much.
Gasoline was at hand and also oil, and soon the youths had the engine of the biplane in working order. But it was not started until the Dartaway had been rolled off to the middle of a big field.
“I don’t want to scare your horses and cattle,” explained Dick, to the farmer. “When the engine starts they’ll think Fourth of July has arrived.”
Soon all was in readiness, and with a final inspection of the biplane, Dick took his seat in the machine and called to his brothers to work the propellers. Bang! bang! bang! went the cylinders, and around went the big blades, faster and faster, until only a blur could be seen. Then over the field shot the Dartaway and up in the air.
“Oh, my, just to look at that!” gasped Minnie. “Just like a big bird!”
“Well, I’ll be switched!” cried Mr. Sanderson. “An airship, sure as you are born! I didn’t think I’d live to see one! My! my! just to see that thing a-sailin’ through the air!”
Dick made the circuit of the field and then cut a figure eight. The machine seemed to work perfectly, and when he came down he was well satisfied.
“All aboard for Brill College!” he cried. “Through passage only! No stopovers allowed!”
“Shall we sail over now, or wait until tomorrow?” asked Sam.
“Oh, come on now!” cried Tom, impatiently. “Lots of fellows will be on the campus at this hour, and we can do some circling around before we land.”
“I’m willing,” said Dick. “Who is to do the steering?”
“You do it—you’re the oldest,” said Sam.
“That’s right,” added Tom.
“I don‘t want all the glory,” insisted Dick.
“You are not going to have,” went on the fun-loving Rover. “See what I’ve got for Sam and myself.” And he brought out a mysterious package he had brought from home. It contained two silken American flags and two tin horns.
“We’ll do the patriotic while you run the machine,” said Sam.
“And I’ve got something else—but never mind what it is,” went on Tom.
“No fireworks, Tom—they are too dangerous in a flying machine,” warned Dick, who knew his brother’s love for things that made a noise.
“Nothing dangerous this time, Dick, I’ll give you my word.”
The Dartaway was given another inspection and then staked to the ground with a strong rope, fastened by a slip knot. Then the engine was started up and the three lads clambered on board.
“Good bye!” they cried to the Sandersons.
“Good bye and good luck!” answered the farmer.
“Let us know how you arrive,” added his daughter.
Then the knot in the rope was allowed to slide, and with a rush and a whizz the biplane sped over the smooth ground and then soared into the air. By the time Sam had hauled in the dangling rope, the flying machine had left the Sanderson farm far behind.
“Oh, this is simply glorious!” cried Tom. He had his flag in one hand and his horn in the other, and Sam was similarly equipped.
“Of course you know the way, Dick,” said the youngest Rover.
“Oh, yes, it’s easy. I’ll simply follow the road. But I am going up a bit,” added Dick. “I don’t want to scare any horses, or we may have some damage suits to settle.”
“The horses will have to get used to flying machines, just as they had to get used to autos,” was Sam’s comment.
On and on flew the Dartaway, Dick managing the biplane as skillfully as if he was a seasoned aviator. Over the farms and barns and houses they sailed, creating much astonishment. The inhabitants came rushing forth, some with milk pails, and women with dish cloths and towels in their hands. One boy in his excitement shied a dipper at them, the object falling short of its mark by several hundred yards.
“We are waking folks up,” remarked Tom, as he tooted his horn and waved his flag, and Sam followed suit. Then the fun-loving Rover placed his horn under his arm and began to fumble at something in his pocket.
“I see Brill!” cried Sam, presently. “There is the main building!” And he pointed with his hand.
“I see it,” answered Dick. “Now for a few circles and a figure eight before we come down. I hope they’ll give us room to land.”
In a few seconds more the various buildings belonging to the institution of learning were in full view. Dick started up the engine with renewed speed, thereby making more noise, and Tom and Sam added to the din by blowing the horns with all their might. The two boys also waved the flags.
The Rover Boys Megapack Page 243