The Safety First Club fights fire

Orkney’s battle with Scrub Payne made a great stir in the school. There were some evidences of a change in the popular temper, which might be taken to bear out Poke’s view that the luck had turned. Sam and his chums noted more signs of good will; they had reason to believe that some of the boys who had voted with them at the election of a class secretary were now ready to ally themselves openly with the club. On the other hand, though, there was nothing to indicate that Zorn was losing his hold upon the majority of the class, between whom and the club the line continued to be sharply drawn.

The club still flocked by itself. No outsider had been invited to visit the camp on the lake shore, and no visitor appeared there. On the other side of the sheet of water activities were increasing. Although the buildings had not been completed, the big pavilion was in condition for use, and a band played there Saturday afternoons and evenings. Some of the cottages were occupied, and there was much travel on the road leading from town to the new resort. On several occasions Sam saw Zorn speeding along on his motorcycle, going at a great pace and raising a thick cloud of dust; and he had glimpses, too, of Jack Hagle driving by in a light wagon. But they were only glimpses. The fine, dry weather held, and the dust was so deep along the highway that the boys, when they hiked back and forth, often preferred to take to the fields, avoiding the smother of the dust clouds.

By night, and with all precautions for secrecy, Poke and Step transferred the dismantled Saracen to the shed by the big field, and then set themselves to reassembling the monster, helped on by a holiday. They declined assistance from their chums.

“You chaps mean well,” Poke told them, “but the machine has a lot of delicate adjustments, and—well, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but your fingers would be all thumbs. So you just leave things to Step and me, and we’ll show you.”

“When?” somebody asked pointedly.

“Pretty quick,” Poke replied. “Of course, all the—er—er—all the rigging won’t be in place, but in a jiffy we’ll have things so far along that we can give you a pretty good demonstration.”

Sam was moved to urge caution. “Don’t be in too much of a hurry. We can wait.”

“Don’t you worry!” Poke retorted with a touch of dignity. “We’re going about this whole thing right. We’re going to look mathematically before we leap—understand?”

Sam interpreted this as meaning that the Shark had not yet completed his computations; and the Shark, on inquiry, admitted that this was the case.

“I’m not going to make any mistakes, if I can help it,” he declared. “Too serious business.”

“It surely is,” Sam agreed. “Broken bones are no joke.”

“Huh! It’s worse to find you’re wrong in your calculations!”

Sam surveyed the mathematician sternly. “Confound it, Shark! Can’t you be human?”

“I’m mighty human,” vowed the other. “I hate to have to confess I’ve blundered.”

“But everybody blunders sometimes.”

“Ought not to—not when it’s a case of mathematics.”

Sam thought this over. “Well, I hope there’ll be no slip in your figures this time,” he said soberly.

“Huh! There won’t be,” quoth the Shark calmly. “I’ll know just where I’m at before I say a word.” And with that he resumed his attention to the sheets of mysterious diagrams and computations, which he had brought with him to the camp.

It was a week-end stay the club was making at the lake. All the members were there, but when the Shark returned to his labors in the tent, Sam for the moment found himself alone. Herman was fishing somewhere along the shore, Poke and Step were fully occupied with the flying machine, Tom Orkney had led the somewhat reluctant Trojan aside, and was coaching him on a Latin lesson. Sam strolled over to the big Council Rock and perched himself on one of its ledges. There he was half-meditating, half-dozing, when Herman came into sight, hurrying along at a great pace. Instantly he hailed Sam:

“Say, I’ve found something—got a tip of trouble! Call the crowd together, and I’ll tell you.”

Sam shouted lustily. Step and Poke were out of hearing, and the Shark kept at his task, but Orkney and the Trojan came readily enough. They ranged themselves beside Sam, and awaited Herman’s tidings.

“Well, it was this way,” he explained. “I was fooling along, not catching anything and not caring much whether I got a nibble or not. And, all of a sudden, that young Hagle came out of the bushes, and tiptoed up, as if he were afraid of his life. I don’t like him. So I was pulling in my line and getting ready to quit, when he began to stammer out something about my waiting to hear some important news. I asked him what it was, and he stammered worse than ever, and kept turning and peering around, as if he thought a bear was about to jump out at us. It wasn’t easy to make head or tail of what he said; but finally I caught his drift. It was about the ownership of the land we’re on. Well, it seems it’s part of the tract Zorn’s father bought, and Ed’s stirring up his father to have us fired as trespassers.”

Tom Orkney whistled; Sam’s expression grew anxious.

“I wonder if his father will do it,” said the Trojan.

“I asked about that,” Herman went on. “Hagle thought he might put us off. It wouldn’t be so much because we were we—because it was our crowd, you know—as because the syndicate wouldn’t want to have anybody on the land. And there’s always the chance of campers starting a fire, especially when things are as dry as they are now.”

The boys nodded agreement. “Fire surely would run through the brush like a racer,” quoth Orkney.

“Well,” said Herman, “it was kind of surprising to have Hagle trying to do us a good turn. I guess I blurted out something of the sort. Anyway, Jack got more flustered than ever and more nervous, and between the way he mumbled and his wriggles when he turned to see if anybody was spying on us I didn’t catch half he said. But what I did catch seemed to be about being sorry for something or somebody. And then he broke off short, and beat it. Say! he slipped away like a snake almost! Funny chap, that Hagle, I tell you!”

“Seems to mean well, though,” Orkney observed.

Herman was glancing at Sam as leader of the clan. “What’s your notion about the business?” he asked.

“That for some reason or other Hagle is trying to do us a favor. I don’t know why—I don’t see how we can discover the reason. But we’d better take advantage of his tip.”

“How?” Orkney inquired.

“By going straight to Mr. Zorn and asking permission to stay where we are.”

“That’d be taking the bull by the horns.”

“It’s the best way. If we’ve got to leave, let’s go gracefully and not be kicked out.”

“That’s sense!” the Trojan declared.

“Right!” said Orkney. “But when will you look Mr. Zorn up?”

“Now—right away,” Sam answered. “Very likely he’s at his cottage this afternoon.”

“Want any company?”

Sam deliberated a moment. “Yes. Maybe it would be a good scheme to have the crowd along, so he could look us over and see that we’re not dangerous.”

“Then you’ll take Poke and Step and the Shark?”

“We’ll give them a chance to go, anyway.”

But the Shark, as it proved, preferred to remain in the camp. He growled savagely when Sam looked into the tent.

“Hang it all, don’t interrupt me! Keep away, can’t you? I’m just getting where I’ve tried to arrive for a week. I’ll be there in five minutes more, if only you’ll let me alone.”

“All right; suit yourself,” said Sam, and stepped back. He beckoned to Orkney, the Trojan and Herman, and led the way through the woods to the shed in the big field.

There, evidently, something was doing. The Saracen was standing in plain sight before the shed, poised trimly on the bicycle wheels and with wings symmetrically out-spread. Step was pottering about the motor, while Poke, hands on hips, was surveying the machine with immense satisfaction.

“Hulloo! What! Finished, is it?” Sam inquired with interest.

“Oh, practically,” replied Poke loftily. “Few odds and ends to be adjusted, maybe—that’s all.”

“Do you mean you’re ready to fly?”

“Why not?”

Sam coughed dubiously.

Step, finishing his work on the motor, joined the others. “Some bird of a job there, eh?” he remarked complacently.

“Umph! Proof of the bird is the flying,” said Orkney drily.

Poke and Step exchanged glances. “Oh, she’ll fly fast enough,” the former declared. “Start the motor, then get her to moving, then shift the planes, and—whisk, there you are!”

“Where are you?”

“Up over head, and going like sixty!”

“Shucks! I don’t believe it.”

Again the builders glanced at each other. “Might start her up, and let ’em see how she pulls,” Step suggested.

Sam now noticed that a rope ran from the rear of the machine to a stump, to which it was made fast.

“Oh, you’re anchored, are you?” said he.

“That’s so we can make a test, and judge the power we’re getting from the propeller.”

“Hurrah! Let’s see the wheels go round,” cried Herman.

“Why—why, I guess we can show you,” said Poke.

“Sure we can!” declared Step enthusiastically; and, marching back to the machine, cranked the motor. There was a tremendous sputter, followed by a deafening barking. Step stretched his long arms and tugged at a lever, whereat the propeller began to revolve smoothly and swiftly.

Step shut off the power, and as the noise of the motor ceased peered at his friends. One or two had their hands at their ears, but all appeared to be impressed by the performance.

“Well, what are you going to say now?” he demanded.

“So far, so good,” said Sam. “Only——”

“What’s the use of ‘only’ and ‘if’ and ‘but’ and all such discouraging talk? You’ll never get anywhere by it.”

“The Saracen’s in grand voice—I’ll say so much for him,” Herman volunteered.

“Ho, ho! That isn’t a marker to his performance when he really gets going and warms up.”

Tom Orkney had been regarding the machine intently. “Look here, Step!” he said. “You’ve no self-starter. What’ll you do if the motor stops when you’re doing loops half a mile up?”

It was Poke who made answer. “Huh! What good would a self-starter do?”

“Well, I’d hate to have to get out of the seat and try to walk around on air and crank up,” Orkney pointed out.

Poke reddened. “Much you fellows know about flying! Of course you can’t walk around on air, and rest wrenches on clouds, or crawl under the machine to see what’s wrong! You don’t do things that way.”

“Well, what do you do?”

“Give us a dress rehearsal,” suggested the Trojan.

“I will!” cried Poke excitedly, and climbed to the seat of the Saracen’s driver. There he settled himself, swiftly tested a brace of levers, twanged the wire braces experimentally, and nodded to Step.

“Wind her up!” he ordered. “We’ll show ’em a thing or two.”

Step seized the crank, willingly enough.

“Say, don’t forget, Poke, to advance the spark,” jeered Herman.

“Huh! It’s kept that way!” snapped Poke.

Step spun the crank, and the furious barking of the motor began again. Indeed, it was louder than before and the reports came with much greater frequency. The propeller revolved with a speed which made the blades melt into a sort of hazy halo. The anchor rope tautened. So great was the strain that, to Sam’s anxious eye, the line seemed to shrink.

“Hold on! That’s enough!” he shouted, but the thunder of the mufflerless motor drowned his voice. He turned to his companions—and caught sight of the Shark, approaching at a run and wildly waving a sheet of paper above his head.

Then Poke did something—none of the onlookers knew just what; even Step later had to confess ignorance. But the something was followed by an increase in the furious roaring of the motor. The whirling blades of the propeller spun madly. The anchor line vibrated like a fiddle string. Then, suddenly, it parted with a report audible even in that frightful tumult.

The Saracen shot forward, gliding with swiftly increasing speed on its bicycle wheels. There was a slight slope to accelerate its start, though, truth to tell, there seemed to be no need of such help. The boys saw Poke making strange motions, tugging vainly at the levers, as he dashed away on such a ride as had never entered into even the dreams of any of them.

The Shark came up, breathless with haste. He caught Sam’s arm, and stared dazedly at the departing machine.

“Stop him, somebody!” he gasped. “Just—just worked it out. What’d you let Poke go for before I told him? That—that thing won’t fly!”