Slike strani
PDF
ePub
[blocks in formation]

S

IS always said it was father's fault for ever bringing the man to the camp that day, at all that is, when she was not blaming me. But judge for yourself.

He was English; he was a snob; he wore an eyeglass; he was collecting data of conditions in the United States for a book; he thought America wild, woolly and impossible. Wasn't it enough to make me hate him? I shall never forget the agony of the dinner, a good one too, by the way, for I prepared most of it myself. In the quest of the simple life, we eschewed all the furbelows. I was rather pleased than otherwise to find the soup was scorched, when I saw the pained expression with which he partook of it. As per maternal order, however, I sat rigid and conventional, and from my position below the salt watched Sis, white gowned and dimpled, actually being "nice" to him. How I writhed but I behaved.

After that wretched ordeal, at which His Royal Self Sufficiency, with fine zeal and much screwing of his eyeglass had proceeded to batter down American traditions and ideals as so many unnecessary encumbrances of the landscape, Sis and I were detailed to show him the sights about our little island. He strolled ahead of us in the lordly British fashion, walking too rapidly or too slowly, as best suited his convenience. He thought our country fashion of dinner in the middle of the day, amusing; co-educational colleges were legitimate offspring of the dark ages in demoralizing effects; the American girl was a feather-brained composite of Amazon

and dairy maid; the hot headed American man should take lessons from his more stable English brother, who could always be relied upon in an emergency. And Sis, blandly smiling up at him from under her fluffy, blonde bang; in spite of the fact that she herself belonged to the underrated Amazon-dairy maid class; Sis, who had not only rollicked through four years of demoralizing co-educational life, but was at that instant moment engaged to marry a hot-headed American man-Sis continued to be nice to him. I gnashed my teeth.

We came presently to a marshy place filled in with brush and leaves, through which the water from the main river had backed up, making a fair sized stream. A large log made a temporary bridge, and across this I skipped, while they were making up their minds to follow. Sis glanced apprehensively about, as soon as she placed foot upon the crackling boughs that led to the log. I may mention in passing that Sis cannot sleep with even a picture of a creeping or crawling thing in her room. ing thing in her room. His Majesty, in accordance with his royal prerogative, was ahead, and placed a manly foot upon the log, Sis timorously following with many side glances at the dank weeds and grasses along its edge. Suddenly she stopped.

"What is that?" she quavered, indicating a little twist of green on the log ahead of them.

He surveyed it judicially through his eye glass.

"That," he finally drawled in a superior manner, "that I fancy, is a little snake."

Then did Sis give a shriek like a

THE LILAC AT COACHELLA.

steam calliope at full blast; seized him by his noble shoulders and threw her arms about his royal neck, clinging to him frantically.

"Don't tell me it's a snake,” Sis shrieked. She was jumping up and down, giving short, quick screams like a fire whistle. I, sitting on the bank facing his astonished face, had all the benefit of his expression. His back was toward Sis, or even in her terror she would have preferred to die of snake poison.

"It's

only

-

He tried to shake himself loose, but the log was slippery and he could only choke and gasp and splutter. a snake a harm-less-snake," he finally gurgled, but every time he said "snake," she gripped him harder and screamed more piercingly. Sis is strong, too, and had a strangle hold.

Sis always was unreasonable. His face was purple. The man couldn't even breathe. Besides, it was a snake and His Worship was getting mad. With one mighty effort he half turned around, clutched at the air with a convulsive movement, and kersplash into the grass and weeds and scummy water went the two of them. I knew they couldn't drown and I should have died if I had not flung myself on the

261

grass and laughed until I was near dementia. Never in all my experience with hot headed American youths had I ever heard such a variety of remarks as were leveled in all directions by the lordly John Bull. He spake a vast deal, and with such vehemence and burning ardor that I wondered that the leaves on the trees did not shrivel.

He stood on the shore regarding me with an expression that should have annihilated me. I retired farther into my handkerchief, and gulped for self control. His hair stood stiffly erect; a splash of mud disfigured his smug cheek; his eye glass was gone; and a long wisp of slimy river grass dangled from his ear. Sis looked like a cloth dipped in wet ashes. Her hair was down, guiltless of the fluffy waves that looked so natural. She was sobbing intermittently, and without a thought of bystanders was examining her shoes to see if the snake could have crawled into them.

He remarked with some embellishments that American women seemed to have a tendency toward hysteria. It was his last word for he did not speak on the way home. But he did not put it in his book. His book has never been written.

COACHELLA

THE LILAC AT COACHELLA

A lilac by a cabin door

All glorious with bloom,

Planted by one that now no more

Sets foot upon the dusty floor
Nor stirs th' unwindowed room.

Exiled, they say, he set it there

Seeking some dim redress

From dwarfish sage and hot sand's glare

Then died, because he could not bear

Its aching homelessness!

A. G. B.

Through the Air

By H. J. Blacklidge

W

ITH a droning roar the tiny Kite leaped skyward. The matins of a thousand Mexican compatriots went with Seth Wayman as he sent his little machine into the sunlight hundreds of feet above the shadowed camp and turned her small nose north toward Arizona, two hundred miles away. For months Seth had done little but scout duty. Now came the opportunity for something really worth while.

Swiftly the little monoplane winged toward Arizona. Before him lay a thousand khakied regulars ready to check his northward flight. Behind him waited a thousand patriots praying for guns and cartridges with which to strike for liberty and Mexico.

sweep of the Wise Canon between its towering peaks of milky quartz and gray granite. Suddenly he laughed aloud. A dozen old long horned steers were galloping up the canon in terror.

"By Jove! I could round up this old canon all by my lonely with this machine!" He laughed again in boyish delight. Then he recognized a vicious old brute that had hooked his horse three years before. Putting on speed he swooped down on the terrified beasts until they bawled with fright and scattered in all directions.

"There, you old moss-back, I'm even with you!" Rising rapidly now he skimmed over the Saddle and glided swiftly down to the old familiar ranch on the north side of the mountains. He landed on a flat a quarter of a mile from the house, leaped out and started over the ridge on foot. But the two cowboys had heard the droning propellers and met him before he had gone a hundred yards. He recognized two of his ranching-day friends in them and they greeted him joyfully.

Thirty miles from the line he raised his planes a trifle and swept upward and onward until he passed over the border town of Nogales at almost record height. Nevertheless, the watchful glasses of Uncle Sam's officers picked him out of the few clouds and many were the wires flashed to all parts of the territory. With his own glass he saw they were watching him and so turned the Kite east to give the impression that he was heading for Douglas or Agua Prieta. But soon he slipped over the Whetstone Mountains and dropped from sight of the khakied army. Seth gazed on well known ground-be-damned!" drawling out the now, for the Wayman ranch was but a few miles distant and there he had spent happy years until his father found the famous Bluebird Mine, after which Seth had taken up flying.

Quickly he dropped into the grand

"By jinks, I'm pop-eyed if it ain't Seth! Hi there, old timer!" Butch Fender was beside himself with joy at the chance of seeing a real aeroplane at close range. His partner, Bob Furr, was less talkative but equally emphatic.

"Seth Wayman! In an air-ship! I'll

words in his own Southern fashion.

"Hello, boys! Say, got any gasoline for that old pump? I bucked this wind all the way from Nogales to Wise Canon and it took about all I had."

THROUGH THE AIR.

"Sure! Just got a drum yesterday. You can have the whole darned thing if you'll give us a chance to throw a saddle onto that sky-horse of yours." Butch wore his broadest grin.

"Guess I won't need quite a full drum," laughed Seth. "But I do want enough to make Tucson on. In fact I've got to have it!" And then suddenly serious, "Look here, boys, I want you to keep still about this. Not one word to anybody. Sabe?"

"Alright providin' we get a ride on your old-" Butch ducked to avoid Seth's fist.

"Sure thing! We get a ride or you get no dope!" Bob's voice was serious but his hazel eyes twinkled merrily.

"Well, fellows, you have got me this time, so I'll have to take you up. But I will sure come back here some day and drop a bomb on your worthless heads." They laughed and started for the ranch house for dinner. Just as the full moon rose over Lone Mountain he bade them farewell and droned swiftly out of sight.

An hour later, from a height of six thousand feet, he looked down on historic old Tucson. Passing over the town he continued some ten miles to the west, and, marking the place well, he landed half a mile from the railroad in a spit entirely hidden by the dense mesquite brush. He walked back to the railroad just in time to catch an east bound freight train at the water station and reached Tucson before eleven o'clock.

The Mexican Junta was located on Congress Street and he found it and delivered his message that night. Old Don Solorio read it twice and turned impulsively with tears in his fine eyes. He took Seth's hand in both his own and looked upward while his lips moved reverently.

After a few minutes' discussion the Junta called Seth in and desired to know how he would carry the guns and ammunition back with him. He replied that he had ordered a Curtiss bi-plane some six months before for his private use, that it should be in the depot at that very moment and that it

263

would carry twelve hundred pounds besides himself and necessaries. Also that if he could only find some one that could fly he could carry about five hundred pounds more in the little Kite.

"Fly! There are many! La pueblo ees full of them." Don Solorio smiled triumphantly. "Do you know the fly week is on and many man-birds, muchos, are here?" Seth's eyes

glowed.

"Do you mean to tell me that sleepy old Tucson is holding an aviation meet?"

"It ees the same."

"Where are they? Where's the field? Who's here? Latham? Wright? Curtiss ? Paulhan? and of the big ones?" Don Solorio held up his hand to stem Seth's flow of questions.

"Not so fast, muchacho, mio! Yes, many of the beeg wans. Manana you shall see. Tonight-now-you are tired. You will go to bet."

Next morning Seth was at the freight depot at six o'clock. The check clerk informed him that there was no bi-plane there for him nor anyone else. At the postoffice a letter stated that the factory was so overworked that it would be at least six months before his order could be filled. With a heavy heart he turned away and walked up Main Street and out 16th to the Plaza. There stood the big tents which served as temporary hangars. But Seth's joy in the meet had waned. It was spoiled by the vision of ragged patriots waiting for guns. Dejectedly he passed along the row of hangars.

"Seth! Seth! old man! Where on earth did you drop from ?" He wheeled to find himself facing Jack Frederick and Dr. Coyne, his flying school chum and teacher. He leaped the intervening space and seized their hands.

"Well, well, well! If this isn't great! Who'd athunk of finding you two here?" His gray eyes shone with pleasure. Jack chattered like magpie and the doctor beamed on him de

lightedly. They breakfasted together while questions and replies flew thick and fast. Seth learned that his friends were employed by one of the big biplane companies. They listened with keen interest to his story, and manifested much disappointment when he told of the 'plane that had not arrived. Suddenly his face lit up. He spoke eagerly.

"Say, maybe I could get a machine here! Don't you think so?" The doctor shook his head.

"No, Seth, it is out of the question. The Curtiss people are the only ones here with an extra machine and their orders are strict that it is not to be borrowed, sold or stolen." Seth's face fell. It was a sore disappointment for he realized that it was his one opportunity.

After breakfast he went to the Junta and reported his failure. His heart bled for Don Solorio. The old man's head dropped on his bosom and his hands trembled. But there was nothing to be done, for the little Kite would not carry enough to pay for making the flight. Seth wandered about town for some time until the sudden drone of a big Wright brought him to himself. Hastening back to the Plaza he found his chum and the Doctor preparing to go aloft. Just as he reached them a small man with a black mustache rushed up. He was intensely excited and spoke with a French accent.

“Meecham es hurt hees foot. He can not fly today. And we have promised! Look at thee day! It ees large, beautiful! A perfect day to fly. Twice already our 'plane ees not go up. If this time we fail we get not thee cash. And eet ees necessaree!" He jerked his arms incessantly and moved about nervously as he became more and more excited. Dr. Coyne laid his hand on Seth's shoulder and turning to the Frenchman, said:

"Monsieur, here is a lad who can take your Antoinette to Hades and back. Seth, this is Monsieur Escaige. Monsieur, this is my friend, Seth Wayman." The diminutive French

man seized Seth's hand in an ecstacy of delight.

"And you will fly for us, Monsieur Wayman? You will take my beautiful Antoinette four hundred feet up? And you will take a passenger to thee -how do you call heem?-thee San Xavier Mission? You can do it?"

"I graduated at the Western School of Aeronautics under Dr. Coyne." Seth's tone was quietly modest.

"Come! Let us go at once! That ees sufficient." Seth waved his hand to Jack, who was already seated in the big Farnam, thanked the Doctor and accompanied Monsieur Escaige to the French hangar.

Half-an-hour later the bird-like Antoinette was rolled out. The crowd remained silent. They were disappointed at its two previous failures, although neither was due to any fault of the owners or their driver. Seth sprang into the seat, settled himself securely, and tried the controlling levers. He moved one and the propeller spatted viciously.

"Alright, boys, let her go!" Down the Plaza for two hundred yards, gaining speed every foot, sped the little aero. Squarely opposite the grandstand it suddenly left the ground, and, amid the applause of the assembled thousands, shot skyward.

A

Up, up, up, up! Straight as the upward flight of a rocket went the little 'plane. Up, up, up, and still up! Would he never stop climbing? tiny speck they saw him turn and dive headlong toward them. Swiftly dropping, it seemed but a minute till the tiny machine began to take shape again. The wings became visible in themselves. The boat-like body assumed shape, and then the thousands held their breath. Had he lost control? He was coming at terrific speed, the little motor doing its level best. It seemed he must be shattered before he could slacken speed! But the crowd knew Seth Wayman. Fifty feet from the ground his hands moved a trifle and instantly the little dragonfly responded. Before anyone realized what had happened Seth had

« PrejšnjaNaprej »