H. L. Sayler

“ The aeroplane was yet on an angle, and the low end of the frame was just escaping the ground. If it struck, Bud’s work was over. Like lightning, the thought came to him that he must jump to escape the wreckage.
Just then, with the spring of an animal, a man’s crouched form hurled itself from the ground beneath the dragging end. Bud’s dry lips tried to cry out, but there was no time. His eye was quicker than his tongue. He saw the bronzed face of Jack Stanley, his gypsy friend, but no sound came from the boy’s lips. As the gypsy’s face flashed before him, something seemed to strike the car. ”

“ It does not take long to cover three miles in an aeroplane. Almost before he could believe it, the sharp turn in the road, the wide clearing, the dark pile that he knew was the mill, and then the almost phosphorescent sheen of the dark mill-pond marked the end of the second stage of Bud’s wild flight. ”

“ To-morrow Zecatacas will look upon what she foretold across the seas.”
“Sure,” interrupted Bud, anxious to change the subject, “come to me, and I’ll get you a front seat—free. When did you predict that there’d be airships?”
“Rubbish,” exclaimed Lafe, glaring at the old fortune teller. “If you feel better now, you’d better duck and get to bed.”
To neither of these speeches did the gypsy seem to give the slightest heed.
“What is written in the Book of the Future will be. I see men flying over forest and mountain. Faster than birds they mount into the clouds. ”

“ With a cat-like spring, the gypsy leaped forward, caught Lafe’s extended arm in a vice-like grip, and before the young man knew what she was doing, or could prevent it, she had opened his clenched fist and shot a lightning-like glance at his exposed palm. As the half frightened and [61] trembling Lafe jerked his hand from her grasp, the fortune teller hissed at him:
“You spit upon the Gypsy Queen. She puts upon you no curse. But the Line of Fate tells much. Beware! Zecatacas tells nothing. For him who spits upon her, she sees all evil and woe. ”

“ At two o’clock it looked as if another person could hardly be crowded into the fair-grounds—at least, not near the exhibition buildings and concession tents. With the first tap of the bell in the judge’s stand, like a field of snow slipping in a body down a mountain side, the heaving mass of humanity moved toward the race track. ”

“ You haven’t an engine, and I reckon you never will have one.”
“What’s the good of it?” repeated Bud. “I suppose you know the heavier-than-air car—the aeroplane—was developed before the experimenters had any power. If the Wright Brothers had waited for an engine, they’d never had a machine. The thing is to know how to fly. You can only learn by flying.” ”

“ Once over the mob of upturned faces—gathered now mainly on the long stretch of the race-track—Bud’s body swayed and his machine veered. In another moment, the aeroplane had altered its course and was on its way circling the grounds just above the track. Ten thousand people rushed forward in spontaneous excitement. Just off the track, Attorney Stockwell watched, breathed hard, and waited. ”

“ Then the aeroplane approached the crowded grand-stand. As it did so, Bud threw his vertical lever slightly to the starboard and brought the car just in front of the packed seats. Every one sprang up, open-mouthed and curious. As the graceful car drifted by the structure, the young aviator, smiling, reached out to the nearest of his vertical frames and jerked loose a large pink bundle. ”

“ The following Monday morning, an odd little caravan marched around the Scottsville public square toward the First National Bank. Old “Stump” Camp, in his black Sunday hat, and freshly shaven down to his lower cheeks where his wide-spreading whiskers began, led the group. By his side was Madame Zecatacas, the Gypsy Queen, her long earrings bobbing. Behind them, walked “Jack Stanley,” her son-in-law, and his wife. Their child was, at that moment, assisting Mother Camp to sugar doughnuts, eight miles away at Camp’s Mill. ”

“ The dusty track was packed with spectators throwing their hats into the air and shouting: “Let her out,” “Gimme a ride,” “Good boy, Bud,” and such expressions rang in his ears, but they did not draw even a smile.
Again, the wonderful craft, true to her steering gear and responding to her propellers in the almost dead calm, circled the track. But this time, as Bud reached the lower turn, he veered off to the left. As the inclined planes moved forward toward the center of the track, Bud put his indiscreet resolution into effect. ”

“ Attorney Stockwell represented a type of lawyers found in all small towns. Without reputation for pronounced legal ability, he undertook all cases that came his way and what he had told Bud was true; often enough he gave his services for ten dollars a day when he could get no more. Therefore, when T. Glenn Dare had called on him that morning and offered him fifty dollars to protect his interests in the aeroplane dispute, the lawyer forgot local pride—even overlooked the fact that he might be called on to take action against his fellow fair directors. ”

“ The last touches were hastily put on the exhibits in the Agricultural, Floral and Machinery Halls; the ice cream, candy, peanut and red lemonade stands made a brave show of their wares; the “nigger baby” and cane rack barkers began appealing to young and old alike to try their luck, and by noon, thousands of pushing, tired and perspiring people attested that the fair was already in full swing. ”

“ The suggestion was too daring for President Elder to pass on at once and alone. He lit a cigar, looked at his watch, examined Bud in the glare of the depot light, and then went into the station and telephoned to some one. When he came out, he motioned the boy to follow him, unhitched his horse and told Bud to jump into the buggy. Before he spoke they were on their way to the fair-grounds once more.
“What makes you think you can do this? I thought you had to be an expert?”
“Experts always have to have a first experience. There isn’t any half bites. It’s whole hog or none,” answered Bud. ”

“ Attorney Stockwell shook him again until the lad was fully awake. Then he asked him, somewhat [110] brusquely, what he meant “by riding such a high horse” with Mr. Elder and refusing to take the ten dollars.
“Because I said I’d work for nothing,” said Bud, crawling from under his sheet and sitting on the bedside.
“But they are willing to pay you, and pay you well. Men don’t work for nothing. I work all day for ten dollars,” added the lawyer.
“That’s it,” said Bud. “I don’t want to work all my life for ten dollars a day. I want nothing or what I’m worth.” ”

“ There was a breaking creak, as the end of the framework struck, but when Bud knew the flight was at an end he sank back into his seat with a gulp of relief.
“I’m here,” he sighed, “right among the snakes and frogs. Maybe the machine’s busted, and maybe not. Anyway, I’ve got a fine long job of waitin’ for day.”
He was breathing as if he had just finished a [141] race. When he had got around to normal again, he made an attempt to get his bearings. With his hands on the framework, he crawled from the car. His feet sank into the soft ground and water oozed into his deep foot prints. ”

“ He’s gettin’ altogether too smart. If he’s too proud to take the money he earned, I ain’t. President Elder gave it to me to hold for him, in trust, but I guess Bud owes me a good deal more’n that.”
The Stockwells ate their supper without Bud, although there was enough talk about him. That evening the lawyer made inquiries in the boy’s usual haunts, but no one had seen him since the aeroplane landed. So the evening passed until nine o’clock, at which hour Attorney Stockwell was summoned by telephone to come at once to Mr. Elder’s private office in the First National Bank. ”

“ Stepping to Stanley, Bud took the package of money and pressed it into Madame Zecatacas’ hand.
“Here, Mrs. Zecatacas, I don’t hardly know what this all means, but this is from me to you. And ‘good luck’ with it.”
With dignity, the three gypsies slowly left the room.
For a moment, President Elder sat and drummed on the table with his fingers.
“Bud,” he said at last, “you seem to have the sudden faculty of making good friends. These good people—including my old friend Camp here—are no better friends of yours than I am. When I see any one gettin’ the worst of it, I want to give ’em a lift. ”

“ Then Bud sprang onto the fragile frame work. Waving his hand at the people, he shouted:
“The aeroplane is going to shoot straight along this track fast as an engine. If any of you folks get in its way, you’ll be smashed. There ain’t goin’ to be no start until you all get back and stay back.”
Then he sprang to the ground and for five minutes, he, the president, superintendent and the others helping, struggled with the slowly receding flood of people. At last the rope barrier was re-established and Bud, hot and perspiring, felt that the trial might be safely attempted. ”

“ A sudden rumble beneath the car struck on Bud’s ears.
“That’s the bridge,” he said to himself. “It’s a team crossing the bridge.”
[134]
He could not mistake that sound; nor would any other Scottsville boy. Bridges may look a good deal alike, but no two of them sound alike. The hollow noise of a wagon on a bridge always strikes the same note. That note Bud had known for ten years. And, though the structure was out of sight, the boy brought the aeroplane as sharply about as if it had been day. It was now a straightaway course of five miles to Little Town due north. ”

“ How ’bout it, ole lady?”
The Gypsy Queen reached out her brown hands, took Bud’s hand in one of hers and tapped the ring, which he still wore, with the other.
“The Gypsy Queen sees good fortune for the young gentleman. Wear old Zecatacas’ ring—it will bring good luck. She can give no more.”
Bud was sure he saw tears in the old woman’s eyes; but, pressing his hand in hers, she said no more.
“It’s all right, Kid,” went on the man, “that [124] means a lot. I’d rather have it than money. We ain’t got nothin’—we’re poor people, but when Jack Stanley kin do ye a turn it’ll be done. That’s all.” ”

“ A mechanic must be found at once, if possible, to adjust the engine, oil it and get it running; a carpenter must also be secured to start to work by midnight on the starting track; these things arranged for, the two amateurs agreed that, together, they could have the aeroplane itself so far set up by daylight as to give assurance to the fair directors that the day’s program could be carried out.
“And then,” suggested Lafe, “I suppose T. Glenn Dare will sail in on the noon train and steal our thunder.”
“He can’t steal mine,” laughed Bud. ”

“ Mr. Wilson’s got to have room. Anybody ’at gits hit’ll be killed. Git back there, everybody. You can all see. ’Taint no horse race. Stand back! The aeroplane will circle around the track. You kin all see. Give us room here,” the superintendent kept crying.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” added President Elder, mounting the lower brace of the weight derrick. “It is only proper for me to announce [81] once more that we are only able to make this exhibition to-day through the kindness of a Scottsville boy, Mr. Bud Wilson. The expert who was to operate our aeroplane disappointed us. ”

“ Lafe grew red in the face, and turned away impatiently.
“And some oil for the engine?”
“You don’t expect a fellow to think of everything [27] at once, do you?” snorted Lafe. “I haven’t been hanging over this thing for a week. I’ve had something else to think about.”
“Seems as if Bud had done a good deal of thinking,” suggested President Elder. “Hurry back, Bud, we may need you again.”
Bud Wilson had long been pointed out as the prize example of juvenile perverseness. Many persons, including Lafe Pennington, were in the habit of referring to him as a “bad” boy. ”

“ On the way, Bud was in a deep study. He had no concern about his return to the fair-ground and no fear but what he would give a successful exhibition, but what was to follow? Certainly Attorney Stockwell and Mr. Dare and the deputy sheriff would be on the watch for him.
And, if they were looking out for the stolen aeroplane, they would not only see it approaching, but they would see the direction it took on leaving. On a fast horse, a man might almost keep close enough on the track of the retreating car to see it come down. ”

“ He’ll put the track up fur sale. Who’ll buy it? Nobody—exceptin’ the gardeen—Mr. Lawyer Cyrus Stockwell, an’ at his own price.”
“Well,” asked Mr. Elder, leaning back into his chair, “what good will it do him? Won’t be worth any more to him, will it?”
“Onless he turns around an’ finds the persons ’at kin give him a title. But he won’t. Them folks is right here. They air a goin’ to make a deed right here this mornin’, an’ it’ll run to Bud Wilson. They air a goin’ to sign the dockyment right here that’ll make Bud’s farm worth one hundred and twenty-five dollars an acre o’ any man’s money.” ”

“ Bud nodded his head.
“An’ ye’ll quit without no wages and without no home?”
Bud nodded his head again.
“Well, I’ve give Josh leave to take the old sorrel and drive his mother to the fair to-day—I got to be the startin’ engine myself. They’ll be there long afore you git there. When yer’s flyin’ ’s all over, ye’ll git right into the spring wagon with ’em and come right out here to old ‘Stump’ Camp’s. This here’ll be yer home till ye git another.”
The tears came into Bud’s eyes.
“I can’t do that, Mr. Camp. I haven’t any money—”
“Don’t I need hands?” interrupted Mr. Camp, with assumed gruffness. ”

“ Camp,” exclaimed Bud, “if I ever get my farm, I’m goin’ to buy an aeroplane. It’s [162] goin’ to be a two-seater, too. An’ the first passenger ’at rides with me’ll be you.”
“Well, sir,” replied the farmer mill owner, twisting a lock of his whiskers about his horny finger and shaking his head, “don’t you worry about me bein’ afeered.”
It wasn’t an hour after the working squad reached the dam and head gates again until the aeroplane was ready for flight. The gasoline tank was full, the oil cups were charged and the engine—to the joy of Mr. Camp and his hands—had been tested and found in order. ”