The Heroes of the School: or, The Darewell Chums Through Thick and Thin

CHAPTER XX
FOLLOWED BY SANDY

“I have it!” exclaimed Frank. “Get into our boat and we’ll land you anywhere you want.”

“Will ye?” asked the farmer. “That’ll be th’ thing. I’ll fool th’ savage critter. This is where I git ahead of ye, Stonewall Jackson,” he added, shaking his fist again at the bull.

“Is that his name?” asked Ned.

“I named him that about an hour ago,” the farmer said. “He was wuss than a stone wall for me, th’ way he kept me from gittin’ out of th’ river. ’Fore that his name was jest plain William.”

“Named after any one?” inquired Bart as the farmer got into the rowboat.

“Not special. Ye see I took him for a debt a feller owed me, an’ I named him William ’cause I took him for a bill, see? Bill bein’ short for William.”

“Oh, you needn’t explain,” said Bart, as he joined in the laugh that followed.

“I’ve got th’ best on ye now,” the farmer went on, looking at the beast as the boys rowed the boat out into deeper water.

The bull seemed to think so, for with a loud bellow it went back to the middle of the pasture and began eating.

“He fairly had me,” the farmer said. “He could run along shore a good deal faster than I could wade in th’ water, and th’ pasture runs along th’ river for three miles, without a fence wuth speakin’ of. I couldn’t see no way of escapin’. It’s lucky you come along. Are you boatin’ for a livin’?”

“No, we’re taking a sort of vacation,” replied Ned.

“Had breakfast?” inquired the farmer.

“Oh yes, early this morning.”

“Wish I had. Next time I try t’ ring a bull’s nose ’fore I git my meal I’ll be a older man. I was goin’ t’ ask ye t’ have some breakfast with me,” he went on. “My name’s Garfield Johnson. I’ve got quite a farm.”

“Much obliged, Mr. Johnson,” said Bart, “but we’re just roughing it, and we’re not dressed for company.”

“Green onions! Neither be I!” exclaimed the farmer. “Look at my boots, all wet and my pants too. I wonder what Mandy’ll say. Mandy’s my wife,” he added, “an’ she’s dreadful particular.”

The boys beached the boat in about half an hour, and tying it fast followed Mr. Johnson to his house, facing on a lane which led out to a country road.

“We’ll go in th’ back way,” said Mr. Johnson. “Mandy’s particular about her floors, an’ I’m sorter – .” He looked down at his trousers, which still dripped water, and laughed.

Mr. Johnson introduced the boys to his wife, telling her what had happened. She insisted that the chums remain to breakfast which they did, though they had eaten a few hours previously. They declined an invitation to stay to dinner. Mr. Johnson made them take a big pail of milk, while his wife added a bag of home-made crullers and some cheese, which formed a welcome addition to their larder.

“If you row up stream a mile you’ll be right opposite the village, or you can go by the road,” said the farmer as they bade him and his wife good-bye.

Fenn and Bart decided they would walk, and let Frank and Ned row the boat up and meet them. They wanted to get some condensed milk and matches, of which they had run out.

The supplies were purchased and, in a little while the other boys arriving took Bart and Fenn aboard. Then the trip up the river was resumed. They kept on until late in the afternoon, as their double breakfast did away with the necessity for dinner. On the way they passed a number of steamers and barges bound for Lake Erie. Some of them were loaded with lumber and other commodities, while several were going up the river empty, to get freight.

The boys found a fine place to camp that night and liked it so well they remained there three days. They had pleasant weather and thoroughly enjoyed themselves, paddling about, fishing and going in swimming.

They decided they would go no further up the stream, and, having camped out at their last stop for another day they packed up for the return trip. The weather, which had been fine, seemed threatening, and they had not brought along clothing or blankets which would serve in case of rain.

“We’ll make it in two stages,” said Bart, referring to the home journey. “One night’s camp will fix it so’s we’ll not be all tired out when we get home.”

They started early in the morning, and planned to camp just above Woodport. It was nearly dusk when they neared the town.

“Hark!” exclaimed Ned, as the boats were gliding along close to shore. “Do you fellows hear anything?”

They all listened.

“Sounds like some one paddling a canoe behind us,” spoke Bart.

“That’s what I think. I’ve been hearing it for the last ten minutes,” Ned went on. “Some one is following us.”

“Maybe it’s that tramp,” suggested Fenn.

“I’m going to find out,” Ned remarked. “You and Frank row along slowly, Bart, and I’ll surprise whoever it is.”

It was now quite dark. The noise made by the oars drowned the sound of the paddles, if the unknown was still following the chums.

Ned was busy in the stern of the boat. He twisted a torch from papers and then soaked the end in kerosene oil from the lantern they had.

“Stop rowing,” he whispered to his chums, “but keep the oars in motion so they’ll make a noise as if we were still going. He’ll think we’re are on the move and keep after us.”

Frank and Bart did as Ned suggested. They could not hear the sound of the paddle but Ned could. Suddenly there was a little glow of light as Ned struck a match. Then there was a burst of flame as the oil-soaked paper caught. Ned tossed it away from the boat. It blazed up brightly and in the glare, as it floated on the water, the boys saw a canoe just behind them.

But the greatest surprise was occasioned by a sight of the paddler. As the light gleamed on him the chums saw he was Sandy Merton.

“Sandy!” exclaimed Ned.

Then the light went out, making the darkness blacker than before.

CHAPTER XXI
AT THE FAIR

“Quick! Hand me some more paper!” exclaimed Ned.

Bart passed him a wad. Without stopping to put oil on it Ned lighted the twisted torch. As the flame grew in brightness he held it above his head to cast a glow over the water. But there was no canoe in sight save the one trailing behind their own boat.

“He’s gone!” exclaimed Fenn.

“Well, we found out who it was,” remarked Ned, “and that’s something.”

“It would be more to find out why he was following us,” came from Frank.

“Maybe he’s camping around here,” suggested Bart.

“If he is, he was quite a way from camp,” put in Ned. “I’d been hearing soft paddling behind us for the last two miles and I determined to see who it was.”

“Guess he didn’t want to be seen, by the way he disappeared in such a hurry,” Fenn remarked.

“We’ll have to keep watch to-night,” said Bart. “We don’t want Sandy or any of his friends sneaking around.”

“That’s right,” assented Ned.

They lighted the lantern and, by the gleam of it, and by that from a fire they kindled on shore, they made their camp. A hasty meal was prepared and then the shelter tent was put up. A big pile of brushwood was collected for the fire and, dividing the night into four watches, of which Bart took the first, they spread out the blankets and the other three prepared to sleep.

But the weather, which had favored them all their trip, turned against them now. It began to rain about ten o’clock and from then, until morning, there was a steady downpour.

However they made the best of it, though the tent did leak, and the fire refused to do anything more than smoulder. It was rather a cheerless breakfast they had, for the coffee was only lukewarm and the bacon half done. But they made jokes about it and soon were on their way down the river.

“Guess it was too wet for Sandy,” observed Bart, as he tilted his hat so the rain would not drip down his neck.

They left the canoe at Riverton and made the best time possible to Darewell. Wet through, but happy in spite of it all they reached their homes, fully satisfied with their trip.

The next morning as Fenn was taking a short cut across lots to get to Frank’s house, he heard a noise as though two birds were calling to one another in a little clump of bushes. The notes came clear and sweet and Fenn paused to catch a sight of the songsters. As he did so something in the bushes moved, a robin flew out and John Newton came into view. As he did so Fenn realized that John was one of the “birds.”

“What were you doing?” asked Fenn, who was once more on friendly, if not intimate terms with John.

“Practicing that robin call.”

“What for?”

“I’m learning to imitate all kinds of birds,” replied John.

“Thought you were working as special delivery messenger at the postoffice?”

“I was but I gave it up. Too much inside. I want to get out where I can hear the birds. I can imitate twenty different kinds now.”

“What good is it?”

“Maybe I can get a job on the stage some day, and it will come in handy. I heard a fellow in a theater orchestra try to imitate a bird once, and it wasn’t anything as good as I can do.”

“If you get on the stage I’ll come and see you,” said Fenn, little thinking that his promise was some day to come true.

“Thanks,” replied John, as he walked off across the field, looking for more birds to practice with, while Fenn went on to Frank’s house.

That afternoon Ned and Fenn went over to Bart’s house and found him cleaning a small rifle.

“What’s up?” asked Fenn.

“Getting ready to go frog hunting,” said Bart. “Dad likes their hind legs fried in butter and I said I’d get him a mess.”

“Where you going?” asked Ned.

“Over to Ducker’s pond. There’s lots of ’em there.”

“Want any company?” inquired Fenn.

“Sure, come along. Get your rifles. There’s a boat over there. Tell Frank and we’ll make a day of it.”

“They ought to be out plentiful after the rain,” remarked Ned. “I’d like to get some for my father. He is fond of ’em.”

The boys found frog-hunting great sport. As they walked home in the twilight they passed a field in which a crowd of men were gathered about numerous wagons. Here and there tents were being raised.

“What’s this?” asked Bart.

“Why it’s the traveling fair,” replied Ned. “Don’t you remember, it’s been advertised for the last two weeks? It must have just gotten in. Come on over.”

Ned’s surmise proved correct. A large traveling show and fair combined had reached Darewell, where it was to remain for three days. There had been a delay, caused by a break-down of some of the wagons, and, instead of arriving in the early morning, they had only now reached the grounds.

A throng had been attracted by the show, and scores of the boys of the town were offering their services to help put up the tents. The burly men in charge, however, went about their business systematically, and, working by the glare of gasolene torches, soon had some of the tents raised, though the main one would not be in place until morning.

In one part of the grounds the cooking wagon with its portable ranges was in full operation, and hungry men and women performers were making a hasty meal.

“Let’s take these frogs home and come back after supper,” proposed Bart. “We can have some fun.”

This the lads did. They found a bigger crowd than before at the fair grounds, more wagons having arrived with the exhibits.

“Out of the way there!” yelled a hoarse voice as a big vehicle, drawn by four horses, approached where the chums were standing. As they moved out of its path they saw, painted on the side of the wagon in large letters, that showed plainly in the flaring torches, the word:

BALLOON.

“That’s so, there’s going to be a balloon ascension every day,” said Ned. “We’ll have to take this in to-morrow.”

“That’s what we will,” replied Bart. “I’ve never seen a balloon go up.”

“You’ll have a chance to go up in one if you want to,” put in Fenn.

“How?”

“Why this is a captive balloon. It’s fast to the ground by a rope. They let persons go up in it for a half dollar apiece.”

“Then we’ll go up,” decided Frank. “I’ve always wanted a ride in one.”

CHAPTER XXII
UP IN A BALLOON

It was a good thing the fair came during the vacation season, otherwise there would have been slim classes in the schools of Darewell, judging by the throng of boys and girls at the small city of tents, the next day. It seemed that every youngster in the county was on hand long before the time set for the opening.

Many came to watch the men put the big tent up, and the four chums were among this crowd. There was much to interest them in the way the canvas was handled, and to see what appeared a tangled mass of ropes and coverings be evolved into a big shelter, gay with flags and bunting.

“I want to watch ’em get the balloon ready,” said Ned, after they had seen the main tent well under way.

“So do I,” chimed in Bart.

The big bag that was destined to sail through the air was being prepared off to one side, and men were laying pipes from a gas main to where it was to be filled. It was a modern affair, intended to be inflated with illuminating vapor instead of hot air as is sometimes the case.

“I wonder how high up it goes?” asked Bart.

“Let’s inquire of one of the men,” suggested Frank.

There was such a big crowd around the laborers that they found it almost impossible to work. They fairly had to shove some of the boys and other spectators out of the way.

“Don’t believe they’ll have much time to answer questions,” ventured Fenn.

Just then a big man, who seemed to be in charge of matters, called to one of the assistants, a short chap.

“Hi, Sam, bring five of those ballast bags over here and get a move on! Don’t go to sleep! We haven’t got all day!”

The little man glanced at a pile of bags of sand near where the boys were standing. Each bag had a rope handle with a hook attached to it. The little man dropped the coil of rope he had in his arms.

“Bring five of ’em over!” he exclaimed. “Must think I’m Sandow. It’s all I can do to lift one. They weigh forty pounds a piece,” and, still grumbling, the little man tackled the bags.

It was evident that two, at the most, were all he could manage. Ned, who was watching him saw an opportunity.

“Come on, fellows,” he whispered to his chums. “We’ll give him a hand and maybe he’ll tell us something about the balloon.”

An instant later the four boys hurried to the pile of ballast.

“We’ll help you,” said Bart. “Where do you want ’em?”

“Oh!” exclaimed the little man evidently somewhat surprised at the offer of help. “Right over there where the boss is. Say, you boys are all right!”

The four chums each took hold of a bag. They found them about all they wanted to carry.

“How high up does the balloon go?” asked Fenn, determined to take advantage of the opportunity.

“Thousand feet,” the man replied. “It’s held fast by a thin wire cable that goes over a drum. You boys going up?”

“I guess so,” replied Ned.

“Interested in balloons; eh?”

“Sure thing,” replied Bart. “Have you been running ’em long?”

“Fifteen years. Ain’t much I don’t know about ’em, though I don’t go up very often. I won’t do the parachute business, and they want a man who does that now-a-days. I’m getting too old for that.”

By this time the ballast had been deposited where the man in charge wanted it.

“Hook it into the cordage now,” he ordered to the little man, “and you take charge around here, Bill. She’s filling now and I’m going to breakfast.”

“All right,” responded Bill, the newly-made acquaintance of the chums. The boys wanted to ask him more questions, but he saved them the trouble.

“Ever see a balloon fill?” he inquired.

“No. How do they do it?” asked Frank.

“First we spread the bag out on the ground,” the little man explained. “Then we see to the top valve. That’s to let the gas out when it’s up in the air. There’s a cord runs from the valve down to the basket. You pull it a little bit and two little trap doors, worked by springs open, and the vapor escapes from the top. Then we have what’s called the ‘ripping cord.’ That’s colored red. It hangs down just as the other one does. Only if you yank that it tears a strip out of the balloon and lets the gas out in a hurry.”

“What happens then?” asked Ned.

“You come down in a hurry, that’s all. It’s only used for emergency. Well, after we get the bag laid out the way we want it, and the gas pipes connected, we lay the cordage or net over it. Then the balloon begins to fill. We hook on the sand bags, all round the edge of the netting, so’s to keep her steady as she fills. When the gas begins to lift the bags a bit we hook ’em on lower down in the netting, and so on, until the balloon is full. Then we hitch on the basket, put in the proper amount of ballast, and it’s all ready to go up.”

“You let it go up a thousand feet and then pull it down by the wire cable?” asked Bart.

“That’s it. It can make a lot of trips during a day with one filling of gas. When it begins to collapse we put in more.”

“Suppose it should break away?” asked Ned.

“It never has happened with this outfit, though of course it might. I had one get away once.”

“What happened?”

“Why my assistant and myself were in it. We didn’t get scared, as we were old hands at the business. We just pulled the valve cord and let ourselves down easy. The bad part of it was it was at the seashore and we came down in the ocean. We lost the balloon but we saved our lives.”

“Did you ever have to pull the ripping cord?” asked Bart.

“Once. You see that’s to use when you want to land in a hurry. I was up in the balloon once and it began to descend. Gas leaked out and I didn’t know it. There was a strong wind and I was being blown out across Lake Michigan that time. It was a case of coming down quick and hard on dry land or being blown out over the lake. I yanked the ripping cord.”

“What happened?” asked Fenn, as the little man stopped.

“Broke both legs,” he replied. “Laid up two months. That sort of discouraged me and I haven’t gone up much since. Make enough money as a helper and I sleep better nights.”

“Is there much danger in a captive balloon?” asked Ned.

“Hardly any. In fact none to speak of,” was the answer. “We’ve got a tested wire cable. It winds over a drum and when the drum is turned it winds the cable up and the balloon comes down.”

“I guess we’ll risk it,” said Ned. “Eh, fellows.”

“You can’t leave me behind,” said Bart, and the others agreed they would take a chance in the balloon.

All this while the big bag had been filling. The man and several others who were assisting, kept hooking the ballast lower in the cordage loops as the balloon arose in the air. It was over half full now.

The boys took a look at the square basket, or car, that was to be attached to the airship, and at the windlass which brought the captive balloon back to earth.

“Let’s go home and get breakfast and come back,” suggested Bart, as the boys had arisen early that morning. “We’ll take the trip this afternoon.”

The boys returned to the grounds about nine o’clock. It was after ten o’clock before the first ascension was made. Four young men from town went up, that being all the car would hold. The manager cautioned them about touching the cords and then, while the anxious throng watched and waited, the cable began to unwind and the balloon went up.

“That looks easy enough,” declared Bart. “Us for the trip next time.”

Up and up the balloon went until it looked about the size of an apple. It remained up about ten minutes and then the windlass was turned by the steam engine, which was part of the outfit, and the airship came slowly down.

“How’d you like it?” asked the manager as the young men got out.

“Fine!” they exclaimed as one. “It was great. I could see clear to Woodport.”

“Now who’s going to be the next?” asked the manager in his professional voice. “Try a trip in the airship! View the earth spread out like a map beneath you, the fields mere patches of green, the river a silver ribbon and the forest a mere bit of fuzz like the wool on Mary’s little lamb. Who’s next?”

“We are!” cried Bart, and he and his chums paid their money and took their places in the basket.

“Let her go,” cried the manager, and the boys, looking over the edge of the car, saw the earth dropping away below them.

CHAPTER XXIII
ABOVE THE CLOUDS

“What’s the matter?” called Fenn, his voice trembling a little.

“The matter with what?” asked Bart, whose tones were not overly strong just then.

“Why we seem to be standing still and the earth is going down.”

“That’s always the way in a balloon, I’ve read,” spoke Frank. “We can’t see ourselves move as there’s nothing to judge it by. You can’t see the air, and that’s what we’re moving through.”

“Well, it’s a little more scary than I thought it was,” came from Ned. “Still I guess we can get used to it.”

By the time they had been elevated five hundred feet they were accustomed to the strange and peculiar sensation. They were no longer frightened, and when they had gone up as far as the cable would let them they were almost wishing the journey was twice as long. As the manager had said, the country was spread out under them like a big relief map. They could recognize some buildings in town, and also pick out other hamlets surrounding Darewell. Bart even declared he could see the clearing where Sandy had stood on guard, and where the men had been observed acting so strangely that day, but the others were not able to make it out.

At the end of ten minutes the balloon was hauled down. The boys climbed from the basket, trying to answer the scores of questions that were asked of them by persons in the crowd. After that many made trips in the captive airship.

“It was great,” declared Bart.

“I almost wish it had gotten loose,” said Ned. “I’d like to take a long trip.”

“We’ll try it again to-morrow,” said Bart, “only don’t you go wishing it would break loose, Ned. It might happen, you know.”

“That wire cable couldn’t break.”

“All right. I don’t want it to.”

For a long while the boys remained to watch the balloon go up and down with the scores who ventured in it. Then, as there were many other things to see at the fair, they made a tour of the grounds.

They were on hand the next day, and made another trip in the balloon. This time it was a little foggy and they could not see so well.

“Half price to-morrow boys,” remarked the manager, as they came down. “It’s the last day.”

“We’ll have to take it in,” declared Fenn. “Can’t miss a bargain like that.”

So great an attraction did the reduced rate prove that it was afternoon of the last day of the fair before the four chums had a chance to go up in the balloon again. Once more they got into the big basket. The captive airship had been freshly filled with gas and was pulling and tugging at the restraining cable as though it wanted to be free.

“Let her go,” called the manager, and for the third time the boys saw the earth dropping away beneath them. They could not get over that first queer sinking feeling in the stomach as the balloon first started skyward, but, after it had gone up a few hundred feet they were used to it.

The day was a wonderfully clear one, and the boys could see for miles in every direction. Off to the northwest Lake Erie sparkled in the sunlight, and the Still river looked like a band of silver laid between green banks and through dark green forests.

“Isn’t it fine!” exclaimed Frank. “I wish we could stay up all night.”

“I guess we’re going down,” remarked Ned, as there came a tug at the bottom of the basket where the cable was fastened.

The balloon gave a little jerk and swayed from side to side. The boys clutched the edge of the basket and looked over.

“Something has happened!” cried Ned.

They could see the crowd running to and fro and a number of men signaling to them with their hands.

“What could have happened?” asked Frank. “Is the balloon on fire?”

“No! It’s broken loose!” yelled Fenn. “See! The cable is dangling below us!”

Leaning over as far as they dared, the others saw that the wire rope had become loosened from the drum and was swaying about in the air. It had become unfastened when the machinery began to revolve to haul the balloon down.

“We’re loose! We’re going up!” almost screamed Fenn.

Down below them the earth once more was dropping away at a fearful rate. The freshly-filled balloon was shooting skyward faster than ever before, since there was no restraining cable to hold it back.

The terror of their position held the boys dumb for a while. They gazed at each other with horror in their eyes. Their cheeks were pale, and their hearts were beating violently.

Being taken so suddenly into the lighter atmosphere of the upper regions almost deprived them of their senses. They could hardly breathe, partly because of natural causes and partly because of the terrible fright that gripped them.

“You – you – got – your – wish, Ned,” spoke Bart with some difficulty, looking at his chum.

“I – I – guess – I – did,” replied Ned slowly.

Their voices seemed to dispel the strain they were all under. They had been fearful of moving since the balloon broke away, thinking they might fall from the terrible height. But now Bart sat down in the bottom of the basket.

“Well, we might be worse off,” spoke Frank.

“How?” asked Fenn.

“We might be falling down instead of up. We’re in no danger for a while anyhow. There’s no wind to speak of. We’re going straight up.”

“How far I wonder?” asked Ned.

“Well, we can stop when we want to,” said Bart.

“How?” inquired Fenn.

“By pulling the valve cord, of course. Don’t you know what the man told us?”

“Oh, of course. Well then, let’s pull it. This is high enough for me.”

They all stood up and began looking for the valve and ripping cords. The man had told them they were connected with the basket, but on previous trips they had not thought to search them out amid the mass of cordage.

“One’s brown and the other’s red,” spoke Bart.

“I don’t see any,” said Fenn, after a long gaze aloft.

“I either,” admitted Bart, and the others had to confess they saw nothing of the cords.

“Maybe they forgot to arrange them for this trip,” suggested Ned.

“Nice pickle for us if they did,” observed Bart. “We’ll sail on forever.”

But, though the boys made light of their plight, it was not a pleasant one. The balloon with its fresh supply of gas was good for many miles’ travel.

“I wonder if we’re going up or standing still?” asked Fenn. He looked over the edge of the basket. The ground below was a mere blur, of which the only difference in color between the woods and the fields could be seen.

“We can soon tell,” replied Bart.

“How?”

“I’ll show you.”

He took from his pocket some paper and began tearing it into little pieces. When he had a handful he tossed them over the side of the basket. They seemed pulled down by some unseen force.

“We’re going up,” announced Bart in a strange voice. “Those papers practically stood still. It was us shooting past them that made it look as though they fell.”

“How far up are we I wonder?” said Fenn.

A moment later a damp mist appeared to settle down over the balloon. So dense was it that they could no longer make out the big bag over their heads.

“We’re above the clouds,” came from Bart in solemn tones.