The Flying Girl

“You believe his device to be practical?”

“It’s the best I have ever seen, and I’ve examined all the famous aëroplanes.”

“What has my father to do with this invention?”

Orissa was surprised.

“Hasn’t he told you?” she asked.

“Only that it ‘interests him;’ but many things do that.”

“We needed money to complete the aircraft, and Mr. Cumberford kindly let us have it,” explained the girl.

“What did he demand in return?”

“Nothing but our promise to repay him in case we succeed.”

Sybil shot a swift glance toward her father.

“Look out for him,” she murmured. “He’s a dangerous man – in business deals.”

“But this isn’t business,” protested Orissa, earnestly; “indeed, his act was wholly irregular from a business standpoint. As a matter of fact, Mr. Cumberford has been very generous and unselfish in his attitude toward us. We like your father, Miss Cumberford, and – we trust him.”

The girl stood silent a moment; then she slowly turned her face to Orissa with a rare and lovely smile which quite redeemed its plainness. From that moment she lost her reserve, toward Orissa at least, and it was evident the praise of her father had fully won her heart.

Day by day, thereafter, Sybil came with Mr. Cumberford to the hangar, until the important time arrived when Steve was to test the reconstructed aircraft. By Cumberford’s advice the trial was made in the early morning, and in order to be present both father and daughter accepted the hospitality of the Kanes for the previous night, Sybil sharing Orissa’s bed while Steve gave up his room to Mr. Cumberford and stretched himself upon a bench in the hangar.

Mrs. Kane knew that her son was to make an attempt to fly at daybreak, but was quite undisturbed. The description of the Kane Aircraft, which Orissa had minutely given her, seemed to inspire her with full confidence, and if she had a thought of danger she never mentioned it to anyone. The Cumberfords were very nice to Mrs. Kane, while she, in return, accepted their friendship unreservedly. Orissa knew her mother to be an excellent judge of character, for while her affliction prevented her from reading a face her ear was trained to catch every inflection of a voice, and by that she judged with rare accuracy. Once she said to her daughter: “Mr. Cumberford is a man with a fine nature who has in some way become embittered; perhaps through unpleasant experiences. He does not know his real self, and mistrusts it; for which reason his actions may at times be eccentric, or even erratic. But under good influences he will be found reliable and a safe friend. His daughter, on the contrary, knows her own character perfectly and abhors it. As circumstances direct she will become very bad or very good, for she has a strong, imperious nature and may only be influenced through her affections. I think it is good for her to have you for a friend.”

This verdict coincided well with Orissa’s own observations and she accepted it as veritable. Yet Sybil was a constant enigma to her and seldom could she understand the impulses that dominated her. The girl was mysterious in many ways. She saw everything and everyone without looking directly at them; she found hidden meanings in the most simple and innocent phrases; always she seemed suspecting an underlying motive in each careless action, and Orissa was often uneasy at Sybil’s implied suggestion that she was not sincere. The girl would be cold and silent for days together; then suddenly become animated and voluble – a mood that suited her much better than the first. Steve said to his sister: “You may always expect the unexpected of Sybil.” Which proved he had also been studying this peculiar girl.

CHAPTER XV

A FINAL TEST

It was the morning of the tenth of December that the eager little group assembled at dawn on Marston’s pasture to witness the test of the Kane Aircraft.

Steve was so occupied with his final adjustments and anxiety lest he should overlook some important point, that he never thought of danger. He would not have remembered even his goggles had not Orissa handed them to him and told him to put them on.

This was the first time Mr. Cumberford had witnessed a performance of the aëroplane, yet he was much less excited than his daughter, who could not withdraw her gaze from the device and was nervously attentive to every move that the young aviator made. Orissa, confident of the result, was most composed of all.

When all was ready Steve took his seat, started the motors, and when they had acquired full speed threw in the clutch. The aëroplane ran less than fifty feet on its wheels before it began to rise, when it steadily soared into the air and mounted to an elevation of several hundred feet. By this time the aviator, who had kept a straight course, was half a dozen miles from the starting point; but now he made a wide circle and, returning, passed over Marston’s pasture at the same high altitude.

The speed of the aircraft was marvelous. Mr. Cumberford declared it was making a mile a minute, which estimate was probably correct. After circling for a while Steve descended to a hundred feet in a straight dive, holding the device in perfect control and maintaining at all times an exact balance. At a hundred feet he tested the rudders thoroughly, proving he could alter his course at will, make sharp turns and circle in a remarkably small space. Then, having been in the air twenty-seven minutes by the watch, he descended to the ground, rolled a hundred feet on his running gear and came to a halt a few paces away from the silent, fascinated group of watchers.

Not a hitch had occurred. The Kane Aircraft was as perfect a creation as its inventor had planned it to be.

Orissa gave Steve a kiss when he alighted, but said not a word. Sybil impulsively seized the aviator’s hands and pressed them until he flushed red. Mr. Cumberford lighted a fresh cigarette, nodded approvingly and said:

“All right, Steve. It – interests me.”

“It almost seemed alive,” remarked Steve, with pardonable exuberance. “Why, I believe it would fly bottom-side-up, if I asked it to!”

“Any changes necessary?” inquired Mr. Cumberford.

“Only one or two, and those unimportant. The steering-wheel is too loose and needs tightening. The left guy-wires are a bit too taut and need to be relieved. Half an hour’s tinkering and the aircraft will be as perfect as I know how to make it.”

As they were wheeling it back to the hangar, Sybil asked:

“Weren’t you frightened, Mr. Kane, when you were so high above the earth?”

“Oh, no; it is far safer a mile up than it is fifty or a hundred feet. There are no dangerous air currents to contend with and the machine glides more smoothly the more air it has underneath it. When I am near the earth I sometimes get a little nervous, but never when I’m far up.”

“But suppose you should fall from that distance?”

“Fall? Oh, but you can’t fall very easily with this sort of a biplane. At any angle it’s a kind of a parachute, you know, for the hinged ends automatically spread themselves against the air pressure. And as for a tumble, you know that a fall of fifty feet would kill one as surely as a fall of several hundred feet. If a fellow can manage to stick to his aëroplane he’s pretty safe.”

“It seems such a frail thing,” observed Sybil, musingly.

“Just wooden ribs and canvas,” laughed Steve; “but anything stronger would be unnecessary, and therefore foolish.”

“Now, then,” said Mr. Cumberford, when the aircraft rested once more upon its rack, “I’ve something to tell you, Kane. I’ve known it for several days, but refrained from speaking until you had made your trial.”

There was an ominous suggestion in the words. Steve turned and looked at him questioningly.

“Any bad news, sir?”

“Time will determine if it’s bad or good. Anyhow, it’s news. Burthon is building an aircraft.”

“An aëroplane?”

“I said an aircraft.”

“But that word designates only my own machine.”

“Burthon is building your machine.”

Steve stared at him, doubtful if he heard aright. Orissa stood motionless, growing white and red by turns. Sybil’s lips curled in a sneer as she said:

“My clever uncle! What a resourceful man he is.”

“I – I don’t believe I understand,” stammered Steve.

“It’s simple enough,” replied Cumberford. “Burthon sent to Washington for copies of your plans and specifications, has built a hangar and workshop over South Pasadena way, and employed a clever mechanic from Cleveland to superintend the construction – already well under way.”

“How do you know this, sir?” inquired Steve, breathless.

“The clever mechanic from Cleveland is my own man, who has been my confidential agent for years.”