Airship Andy Or The Luck of a Brave Boy Part 8

Andy simply looked and felt for the next ten minutes. The pretty, dainty machine made him think of a skylark, an arrow, a rocket. He had a bouyant sensation like a person taking laughing gas.

The lifting planes moved readily under the manipulation of an expert hand. There was one level flight where the airs.h.i.+p exceeded any railroad speed Andy had ever noted. Farms, villages, streams, hills, faded behind them in an endless panorama.

Toot!-Andy followed instructions. They slowed up over a town that seemed to be some railroad center. Beyond it the machine skimmed a broad prairie and then gracefully settled down in the center of a fenced-in s.p.a.ce.

Its wheels struck the ground. They rolled along for about fifty yards, and halted by the side of a big tent with an open flap at one side.

"This is the stable," said the aeronaut, showing Andy how to get from his seat on the delicate and complicated apparatus of the flyer.

"Dizzy-headed?"

"Why, no," replied Andy.

"Wasn't frightened a bit?"

"Not with you at the helm," declared Andy. "Mister, if I could do that, I'd live up in the air all the time."

"You only think so," said the aeronaut, the smile of experience upon his practical but good-humored face. "When you've been at it as long as I have, you'll feel different. What's your name?"

"Andy Nelson."

"Out of a job?"

"Yes, sir."

The aeronaut looked Andy over critically,

"That little frame building at the end of the tent is where we keep house," he explained. "The big rambling barracks, once a coal-shed, is my shop. I'm John Parks. Ever hear of me?"

"No, sir," said Andy.

"I'm known all over the country as the Airs.h.i.+p King."

"I can believe that," said Andy, "but, you see, I have never traveled far."

"I've made it a business giving exhibitions at fairs and aero meets with this glider and with a dirigible balloon. Just now I'm drilling for a prize race-five thousand dollars."

"That's some money," observed Andy, "and I guess you'll win it."

"I see you like me, and I like you," said John Parks. "Suppose you help me win that prize? I need good loyal help around me, and the way you obey orders pleases me. I'll make you an offer-your keep and ten dollars."

"And I'll be near the airs.h.i.+p?" asked Andy eagerly. "And learn to run it?"

"Yes."

"Oh, my!" cried the boy, almost lifted off his feet. "Mr. Parks, I can't realize such good luck."

"It's yours for the choosing," said the aeronaut.

"Ten dollars a month and my board for helping run an airs.h.i.+p!" said Andy breathlessly. "Oh, of course I'll take it-gladly."

"No," corrected John Parks, "ten dollars a week."

CHAPTER VIII-THE AERO FIELD

"That's settled," said the Airs.h.i.+p King. "Come, Andy, and I'll introduce you to our living quarters."

Andy felt as if he was treading on air. He was too overcome to speak intelligently. Clear of the spiteful Talbot brood, the proud possessor of a new suit, a watch, five dollars, and the prospect of a princely salary, he felt that life had indeed begun all over for him in golden numbers. He caught at the sleeve of his generous employer.

"Mr. Parks," he said with emotion, "it's like a dream."

"That's all right, Andy," laughed the aeronaut. "I'm pretty liberal, they say-that is, when I've got the money. I've seen my hard times, though. All I ask is to have a man stick to me through thick and thin and I'll bring him out all right."

"I'll stick to you as long as you'll let me," declared Andy.

"Yes, you're true blue, Andy, I honestly believe. I've staked a good deal on the aero meet next month. I've just got to get that five-thousand-dollar prize to make good, for I've invested a good deal here."

"I hope I can help you do it," said Andy fervently.

"The _Eagle_ is only a trial craft. Over in the workshop yonder, I've got a genius of a fellow, named Morse, working for me, who is turning out the latest thing in airs.h.i.+ps. Here's our living quarters."

Mr. Parks led Andy into the shed-like structure that formed the back of the tent which sheltered the aeroplane and also a dirigible balloon.

They pa.s.sed through several part.i.tioned-off s.p.a.ces holding cots. Then there was a comfortable sitting room. Next to it was a kitchen.

This room was sizzling hot, for it held a big cooking-range, before which an ap.r.o.ned cook stood with an immense basting spoon in his hand.

He was the blackest, fattest cook Andy had ever seen. His eyes were big with jolly fun, and his teeth gleamed white and full as he grinned and nodded.

"I've brought you a new boarder, Scipio," said Mr. Parks. "His name is Andy Nelson. You'll have to set another place."

Then he stepped through a doorway outside, and Scipio took a critical look at Andy.

"'Nother plate, eh?" he chuckled. "Dat's motion easy, but what about de contents of dat plate? Fohteen biscuit do de roun's now. Yo' look like a likely healthy boy. I reckon I have to double up on de rations."

It was a royally good meal that was spread out on the table in the sitting room about four o'clock in the afternoon.

"Where's Mr. Morse, Scipio?" inquired Mr. Parks, as the cook brought in a smoking roast.

"Mistah Morse have to be excused dis reflection, sah, I believe,"

responded Scipio. "I ask him 'bout noon what he like foh dinnah. He dat sorbed in his work he muttah something bout fractions, quations and dirigible expulsions; I hab none ob dose to cook. Jus' now I go to call him to dinnah, an' I find him deeper than ever poring over dose wheels an' jimdracks ob machinery, and when I say de meal was ready, he observe dat de quintessimal prefix ob de cylinder was X. O. plus de jibboom ob de hobolinks. It sounded like dat, anyhow. Berry profound man, dat, sah.

I take him in his meal later, specially, sah."

From this and other references to the man in the shop, Andy decided that Mr. Morse must be quite a proficient mechanician. He longed to get a peep into his workshop. After dinner, however, Mr. Parks said:

"Would you like to stroll over to the big aero practice field, Andy?"

"I should, indeed," responded Andy.