The Hunniwell boys and the platinum mystery
“First time I ever was above a thunder storm,” Rogers told them as he
looked over the side of the cockpit. “Just look at those streaks of
lightning. Isn’t it a wonderful sight?”
“It sure is,” Gordon told him. “But let me tell you it doesn’t seem half
so wonderful when you’re down there in it. And, believe me, I know what
I’m talking about because I’ve been there.”
“It seems kind of lonesome up here when you can’t see the ground,”
Rogers declared a few minutes later.
“We’ll be going down pretty soon,” Bill told him. “We’ve pretty nearly
passed it.”
The sound of the thunder was rapidly decreasing and they could see that
the heavy clouds beneath them were thinning out and soon Bill turned the
nose of the plane downward.
“Next time I think we’ll land if it’s all the same to you,” Gordon told
them as he caught sight of the land. “Terra firma isn’t so bad after all
when a storm comes up.”
“I believe you’re right at that,” Bill agreed.
It was about seven o’clock when they decided to land for the night. They
were approaching what seemed to be a fair sized town, not too large but
large enough to have a hotel and a few minutes past the hour they landed
just on the outskirts of the village. About a hundred yards away was a
house with a large barn and Bill suggested that it looked as though they
could run the plane inside if permission were given. So Gordon went up
to the house and at his knock a man appeared who readily granted his
request.
“And we can put you up for the night,” he added. “You see we take in
tourists and supper is all ready. Matter of fact it’s about over but I
guess there’s plenty left.”
“That’ll be fine,” Gordon told him.
Without much trouble they pushed the plane inside the barn, the doors of
which happened to be especially wide and, a few minutes later, sat down
to a splendid supper.
“What town is this?” Bill asked their host as they started to eat.
“Creston,” he told him.
“Indiana?”
“No, Creston, Iowa.”
“We sure did make good time then,” Gordon declared.
“Funny I didn’t hear your plane,” the man said.
“No, it isn’t,” Gordon told him, “because it doesn’t make hardly any
noise.”
“How come?”
“Well, you see, we have an electric motor instead of a gasoline engine,”
Gordon explained.
“First time I ever heard of that,” the man declared.
“And I think ours is the first one of its kind,” Gordon told him.
“Think we can make the coast to-morrow?” Gordon asked as they were
getting ready for bed.
“If nothing happens and we get away by five o’clock,” Bill told him.
“And we don’t run into any more storms,” Rogers added.
They had arranged for an early breakfast and it was only a few minutes
after five o’clock when they again took the air. The sky was overcast
with heavy clouds and there was every prospect that it would rain before
the day was much older. And the promise was fulfilled, for within an
hour it was raining hard. But inside the cockpit all was cozy and, as
there was little or no wind, they did not mind the bad weather.
“Better hit her up pretty lively if you expect to make the coast
to-day,” Gordon advised.
“We’re doing a hundred and fifty,” Bill told him.
“Do you really mean it?” Rogers asked.
“Hundred and fifty-two to be exact.”
“It doesn’t seem possible we are going that fast,” Rogers declared.
“That’s because the old bird runs with so little fuss,” Gordon told him.
“She doesn’t make much fuss about it and that’s a fact,” Rogers agreed.
“Hark.”
“What is it?” Bill demanded.
“Plane coming,” Gordon told him.
“I hear it now,” Bill agreed.
“And, believe me, it’s doing some hiking,” Rogers added a moment later.
“I see it,” Gordon, who was using the glass, declared. “It’s coming
straight for us.”
“Well, thank goodness there’s plenty of room to turn out,” Bill laughed.
“Mail plane,” Gordon announced a moment later.
“Doesn’t look as though he saw us at all,” Bill declared giving the
wheel a slight turn.
“He doesn’t hear us, that’s one safe bet,” Rogers said.
A moment later and the big mail plane rushed by them at a distance of
only a few rods and they could not help laughing at the expression on
the pilot’s face as he caught sight of them, apparently for the first
time, when they were directly opposite.
“Bet he goes in with a tale of a ghost plane,” Bill chuckled.
“Wouldn’t wonder,” Rogers laughed.
“He certainly looked as though he was seeing things,” Gordon added.
“I suppose twenty years from now planes will be so thick that we’ll have
to have traffic laws same as we do now for automobiles,” Rogers declared
as he watched the plane disappearing in the distance.
“But we’ll always have plenty of different levels,” Bill said, “and that
will help.”
“It sure will,” Gordon agreed.
“I think I can see the ocean.”
It was a little past six o’clock when Rogers made the statement. Gordon
had been driving since shortly after noon and Bill was more than half
asleep in his seat. The weather had cleared shortly after twelve o’clock
and they had all enjoyed immensely the flight over the lofty peaks of
the Rockies. The motor had run perfectly and nothing had happened all
day to mar the pleasure of the trip and they were all in high spirits.
“Going to land in the big city?” Gordon asked a few minutes later when
they were sure that they were nearly to the coast.
“I think Stockton will be better,” Bill told him. “It’s only a short
distance from the coast and it isn’t so large.”
“Then we ought to be sighting it most any minute now.”
“I believe that must be it a bit over to our right,” Rogers declared.
“My idea,” Bill agreed.
Gordon turned the wheel slightly and in a few minutes they had landed. A
number of people had seen the plane as it was settling to the ground and
they were almost immediately surrounded by a curious crowd.
“What kind of an outfit is that?” one man, a big burly fellow demanded
as he rested one hand on one of the wings.
“It’s an aeroplane,” Bill told him.
“But it didn’t make no noise like a plane,” the man objected.
“No,” Bill said quietly. “You see, it’s run by an electric motor instead
of a gas engine.”
“Can yer beat that,” the man declared turning from the plane to the
crowd. “Where you fellers from?”
“Maine,” Bill told him.
“That’s a good bit of a distance from here, I reckon. When did you
start?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“No kiddin’?”
“Honest injun,” Bill smiled.
In spite of the man’s roughness he saw that he, as well as the rest of
the crowd, was well disposed toward them and he thoroughly enjoyed his
surprise. Inquiry at once gave them the information that there was a
good hotel only a couple of blocks distant and willing hands helped them
push the plane down the street and into the garage in the rear of the
hostelry.
“And so ends the second day,” Gordon declared as they made their way
toward the dining-room.
CHAPTER III
OVER THE PACIFIC
“We ought to make it from here in about fifteen hours actual flying
time,” Bill said as they were getting ready for bed shortly before ten
o’clock.
“Then if we leave here at five we should be there about eight,” Gordon
said.
“But that gives us no leeway in case of trouble,” Rogers reminded them.
“And we want to be sure to get there while it is light if we possibly
can,” Bill advised.
“Then I move that we pull out of here soon after three o’clock,” Gordon
said. “Of course it’ll be dark then but it’ll get light before we get
very far and we won’t mind it and we’ll all feel safer.”
“Second the motion,” Bill agreed.
“Third the motion,” Rogers added.
“Which makes it unanimous,” Gordon laughed. “Got your course laid out?”
he asked turning to Bill.
“I will have it in about a minute,” Bill replied bending over the map he
had been studying for the past few minutes.
“Don’t make any mistakes,” Gordon cautioned him. “If we miss that island
we’re likely not to see any land for a long, long time.”
“And the water out there is mighty wet,” Rogers laughed. “By the way, I
wonder if the Albatross will float.”
“Of course we’ve never tried it,” Bill told him, “But I don’t think
there’s any doubt about it. Back of your seat there’s a pretty
good-sized air space which we made water tight and you know she’s very
light and we carry no fuel. Yes, I think I can say she’ll float.”
“I’m certain of it, but I sure hope she won’t have to demonstrate it,”
Rogers smiled.
He called the office and asked that they be called at half past two.
They had already made arrangements with the cook for plenty of food to
be packed for them and they were assured that everything would be ready
at whatever time they appointed.
“Then I reckon we’d better hit the hay for what sleep we can get which
will be only about four hours,” Bill said as he finished charting his
course.
Ten minutes later the lights were out and all was quiet.
“Gee, but twenty-one hundred miles seems like a good ways when it’s all
over the water,” Gordon declared as he hopped to his seat at a quarter
past three the following morning.
“In miles, yes, but in time it isn’t so far,” Bill told him as he
started the elevator. “We’ll be there before you know it.”
“Oh, I’m not scared or anything like that,” Gordon hastened to assure
him.
“I never thought you were,” Bill smiled.
Dawn was just breaking as they flew over San Francisco and out over The
Golden Gate.
“Wish it was lighter so we could see more of it,” Bill said.
“We must plan it so that it will be when we come back, it’s well worth
seeing,” Rogers told him.
“And now there’s nothing beneath us but drink,” Gordon sighed.
“And not very good drink at that,” Rogers laughed.
“But there’s plenty of it such as it is,” Bill declared.
“And then some,” Gordon added.
It was a beautiful morning and as the sun came up behind them and threw
its rays out over the ocean it was an experience they never forgot. They
were flying at an altitude of a little more than a thousand feet and the
ocean stretched out beneath them like an immense mirror.
“No wonder they called it the Pacific if it’s always like this,” Gordon
declared looking over the side of the cockpit.
“But it isn’t,” Rogers reminded him. “I’ve been on it a couple of times
and once in particular it wasn’t so pacific let me tell you.”
“Didn’t you say you had never been where we’re going?” Gordon asked him.
“I never have, but I’ve been on the Pacific. It’s a fairly big pond, you
know, and you can go some little distance without banging into those
islands.”
“Guess you’re right at that,” Gordon laughed.
An hour later they ate breakfast and found that the cook had put them up
a splendid lunch.
“Believe me, that baby knows his vegetables,” Gordon declared as he
started on his third sandwich.
“Hope he’s as good on quantity as he is on quality,” Bill sighed.
“That a knock at me?” Gordon demanded.
“Don’t be so quick to put the shoe on,” Bill laughed. “Is that the ninth
or tenth sandwich for you?”
“It’s only the third,” Gordon flung back. “How many have you had?”
“Why, er——”
“Don’t be bashful. How many?”
“Four, not counting this one,” Bill acknowledged.
“Then don’t talk to me about quantity. I’m only a piker compared with
you.”
“I guess we’ve got enough,” Rogers told them. “I know something about
eating myself and I ordered the eats you know. Anyhow if you find we’re
going to run short you can throw me overboard.”
“Jonah act, eh?” Gordon laughed.
“Well, if I’m not greatly mistaken there’s the whale all ready for you,”
Bill cried pointing ahead.
“Sure’s you’re born,” Gordon shouted.
“And it looks as if it were big enough to do his part all right,” Rogers
added.
“Let’s see how near we can get to him,” Gordon suggested. “He’s right in