Joe Strong and his wings of steel

Just what had happened to Joe, enclosed in the cage part of his wings of steel, the watchers did not know. All they were certain of was that the lad seemed to have lost control of the machine and was coming down rapidly, straight for the roof of the factory.

“I can’t understand it,” said Mr. Ryden. “The wings are still vibrating, and they ought to hold him up.”

“But they don’t seem to be going as fast as they were,” observed the old clown. “Too bad! I don’t want to be a dismal prophet, but Joe sure is going to be hurt!”

And it certainly seemed so.

Nearer and nearer to the roof of the factory fell the Bat with Joe in it. They could see him more plainly now, and he seemed to be working desperately with hands and feet to correct whatever was wrong.

“I can’t understand it,” said the inventor. “It seems as if the battery were giving out, but it was newly charged, and there ought to be plenty of current in it still.”

“Look!” quickly cried Benny Turton. “He’s steering away now.”

As they watched, they saw Joe guide the mass of metal and leather away from the factory. He no longer hovered over the roof.

“He’ll have farther to fall to reach the ground,” said Bill Watson, “but the turf will be softer than the roof.”

“Maybe he won’t fall,” observed Benny. “The wings seem to be going faster now.”

“That’s what they are!” exclaimed Mr. Ryden. “He’s got better control.”

Joe had soared upward a way now, and the big wings were certainly going faster, which would seem to indicate that whatever had been the matter with the current was now remedied.

But all danger was not over. Even though the Bat sailed away from the vicinity of the factory, it was not working properly. There was still what in a ship would be called “a list to port.”

“I can’t understand what makes him tilt so,” said Mr. Ryden. “It must be something wrong with one of the rudders. See! He’s going up again!”

And so Joe was. He had guided his peculiar craft away from the danger of the factory, and was mounting upward. But whether this would enable him to regain an “even keel” was a matter yet to be settled.

It was soon evident that Joe was not going to gain the perfect control of his machine which he needed to be able to guide it safely down. For, as his friends watched, they saw him suddenly swerve to one side, and then shoot down on a long slant.

“There he goes! He’ll be killed sure!” cried Bill Watson.

“Come on!” shouted Benny. “We must be on hand when he falls, to do what we can for him!”

Mr. Ryden, with a gesture of despair, followed the two circus workers out through the gate of the factory yard. The test had taken place within an enclosure fenced about, but Joe had soared over the fence, and above the field beyond.

“He’s going to have a bad fall!” exclaimed Bill, as the three raced on toward the point where it seemed Joe would land in his wings of steel.

But Benny, with a quick glance ahead, exclaimed:

“If he can only hit the water it may save his life!”

“What water?” asked the old clown.

“That creek, river, or whatever you call it,” the human fish replied. “Joe knows all there is to know about swimming and diving, and if he can fall into the water it will be a whole lot better than landing on the ground.”

“I should say so!” exclaimed Mr. Ryden. “That is if the machine doesn’t hold him under.”

“We’ll be there to pull him out,” said the old clown grimly.

As Benny had said, Joe was now headed directly for a stream of water that flowed through the big meadow just beyond Mr. Brader’s factory; and, as the human fish had also remarked, Joe knew all there was to know about taking care of himself in water; the only danger lay in the fact that he might be held down by his machine.

Straight for the creek, as though he had intentionally steered for it, flew Joe in the Bat. A moment later in he splashed.

“Come on!” cried Ben. “We’ve got to get him out.”

They raced on toward the stream, but there was no need to aid Joe, for as the three reached the bank they saw him swimming toward shore, while the big Bat, supported on the outstretched wings of steel, floated on the surface. The spread of the wings was so big that they easily held up the weight of the storage batteries and motors.

“Are you hurt, Joe?” cried Ben.

“No—just—shaken up—a bit,” was the panting answer.

He reached the bank, and was quickly pulled up on shore, for it was seen that he was well-nigh exhausted, even though he might not be hurt.

“I—I’m all right,” said Joe, as he wiped the water from his face. “Is there a boat about here so we can rescue the wings? I don’t want to lose them.”

“What happened?” asked Mr. Brader.

“Something wrong with the steering gear,” Joe answered. “I’ll talk about that later. Just now I want to save my machine.”

“I see a boat!” cried Ben, who had been looking up and down the stream. “We’ll get it out for you!”

“Oh, I can help,” said Joe, coolly enough. “I’ll be all right—as soon as I get my—my wind,” and he smiled.

It was no easy matter to get the wings of steel ashore, for they were awkward to handle in the water. But at last they were towed to a shallow place and then lifted out on the bank, Joe giving valuable help, for he was very strong. “Strong by name and strong by nature,” as he often remarked laughingly.

“Well, I suppose your machine is ruined now,” said Benny, as he looked at the wet and dripping Bat.

“Not necessarily. Why?” asked Joe.

“Why, I understood that an electric motor, once it got wet, was no good.”

“Not these,” said Mr. Ryden with a laugh of relief. “On Joe’s advice I made these motors water-proof, and, not only that, but I enclosed them in water-tight compartments in the interior of the Bat. The storage battery, too, is water-proof, and you can turn it upside down without any danger.

“No, if water were our only trouble it wouldn’t be much. But I am afraid something is broken.”

“I know one of the steering rudders is,” said Joe. “That was why I could not control the machine, and came so near to alighting on the factory roof.”

“It was a narrow escape,” observed the old clown.

“Oh, I’ve had closer,” said Joe. “And now let’s get to work and see what the trouble is. I may be able to make another flight before dark.”

“Are you going up again?” asked Benny Turton in surprise.

“Why, of course, if I can get it to work!” said Joe. “A little thing like this won’t stop me.”

With the help of the watchman from the Brader factory, the Bat was carried back to the testing yard. And then, after Joe had taken off his wet clothes, and had them drying in the boiler room (meanwhile donning a pair of overalls and a jumper belonging to one of the workmen) he and Mr. Ryden went over the whole machine carefully.

The defect was soon discovered. It was in one of the controls of the rudders, a small wire cable having slipped from the clamp.

The fall into the water had done a little damage, but not much, and this was soon repaired, Joe and Mr. Ryden working together over the machine.

There was still an hour or two of daylight left when the Bat was got in shape for another test.

“Then you are really going up again?” asked Bill Watson, as Joe made ready.

“Why not?” Joe asked. “I didn’t get so much as a scratch! Falling into water is easier than landing in a life-net, and we’ve got the cage of the Bat so fixed that I can easily get out of it in a hurry if I have to. You see the wings were so broad that it was impossible to pull them under water. Of course I’m going up again!”

The rudder controls were repaired in such a way that there was no possible chance of another break, unless the whole machine fell apart. And then Joe, not waiting for his own clothes to dry, again took his place in the cage, wearing the overalls and jumper, but not forgetting the football helmet.

“That saved me from a bad bang on the head before,” he said, “and I’m not going to leave it off.”

The Bat was scarcely dry from its bath when Joe was ready to soar up in it again. Again the motors hummed and throbbed, and as the wings vibrated more and more rapidly up rose the machine, taking Joe with it.

Once more he went up above the high fence, and beyond it, flying over the green meadow. And now a crowd, attracted by the strange, weird sight in the air, had gathered in the roadway to watch the test being made.

This time the flight was a success. Joe went up even higher than he had at first, and moved about, from side to side, up and down, around in a circle and back to the place whence he had started.

He had risen up like a bird, elevating himself and the machine by the beating of the wings against the air. But when he came down he stopped the motors, and gracefully glided, even as an eagle or a condor swoops down from his watching place, miles high in the air, to secure its quarry.

As lightly as a feather Joe descended to the earth, the springs in the bottom of his machine allowing him to alight with scarcely a jar.

“Success!” cried Joe, as he came out of the cage. “It works!”

“A big success!” cried Ben.

“Better than I ever thought it would be,” remarked the clown. “Joe, you’re a wonder!”

“No, Mr. Ryden is the wonder,” said Joe. “If he hadn’t solved the problems I’d never have been able to go up.”

“But if you hadn’t evolved the idea, I’d never have thought of it,” said the inventor.

“I move that the mutual admiration society adjourn,” returned Joe with a laugh. “Now we must think of getting back to the circus, and my machine must go with me.”