Suddenly Kennedy jerked my arm."Walter, look over there across the road back of us--at the old weatherbeaten barn.I mean the one next to that yellow house.What do you see?""Nothing, except that on the peak of the roof there is a pole that looks like the short stub of a small wireless mast.I should say there was a boy connected with that barn, a boy who has read a book on wireless for beginners.""Maybe," said Kennedy."But is that all you see? Look up in the little window of the gable, the one with the closed shutter."I looked carefully."It seems tome that I saw a gleam of something bright at the top of the shutter, Craig," I ventured.
"A spark or a flash."
"It must be a bright spark, for the sun is shining brightly,"mused Craig.
"Oh, maybe it's the small boy with a looking-glass.I can remember when I used to get behind such a window and shine a glass into the darkened room of my neighbours across the street."I had really said that half in raillery, for I was at a loss to account in any other way for the light, but I was surprised to see how eagerly Craig accepted it.
"Perhaps you are right, in a way," he assented."I guess it isn't a spark, after all.Yes, it must be the reflection of the sun on a piece of glass--the angles are just about right for it.
Anyhow it caught my eye.Still, I believe that barn will bear watching."Whatever his suspicions, Craig kept them to himself, and descended.At the same time Norton gently dropped back to earth in front of his hangar, not ten feet from the spot where he started.The applause was deafening, as the machine was again wheeled into the shed safely.
Kennedy and I pushed through the crowd to the wireless operator.
"How's she working" inquired Craig.
"Rotten," replied the operator sullenly."It was worse than ever about five minutes ago.It's much better now, almost normal again."Just then the messenger-boy, who had been hunting through the crowd for us, handed Kennedy a note.It was merely a scrawl from Norton:
"Everything seems fine.Am going to try her next with the gyroscope.NORTON.""Boy," exclaimed Craig, "has Cdr.Norton a telephone?""No, sir, only that hangar at the end has a telephone.""Well, you run across that field as fast as your legs can carry you and tell him if he values his life not to do it.""Not to do what, sir?"
"Don't stand there, youngster.Run! Tell him not to fly with that gyroscope.There's a five-spot in it if you get over there before he starts."Even as he spoke the Norton aeroplane was wheeled out again.In a minute Norton had climbed up into his seat and was testing the levers.
Would the boy reach him in time? He was half across the field, waving his arms like mad.But apparently Norton and his men were too engrossed in their machine to pay attention.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Craig."He's going to try it.Run, boy, run!" he cried, although the boy was now far out of hearing.
Across the field we could hear now the quick staccato chug-chug of the engine.Slowly Norton's aeroplane, this time really equipped with the gyroscope, rose from the field and circled over toward us.Craig frantically signalled to him to come down, but of course Norton could not have seen him in the crowd.As for the crowd, they looked askance at Kennedy, as if he had taken leave of his senses.
I heard the wireless operator cursing the way his receiver was acting.
Higher and higher Norton went in one spiral after another, those spirals which his gyroscope had already made famous.
The man with the megaphone in front of the judge's stand announced in hollow tones that Mr.Norton had given notice that he would try for the Brooks Prize for stationary equilibrium.
Kennedy and I stood speechless, helpless, appalled.
Slower and slower went the aeroplane.It seemed to hover just like the big mechanical bird that it was.
Kennedy was anxiously watching the judges with one eye and Norton with the other.A few in the crowd could no longer restrain their applause.I remember that the wireless back of us was spluttering and crackling like mad.
All of a sudden a groan swept over the crowd.Something was wrong with Norton.His aeroplane was swooping downward at a terrific rate.Would he be able to control it? I held my breath and gripped Kennedy by the arm.Down, down came Norton, frantically fighting by main strength, it seemed to me, to warp the planes so that their surface might catch the air and check his descent.
"He's trying to detach the gyroscope," whispered Craig hoarsely.
The football helmet which Norton wore blew off and fell more rapidly than the plane.I shut my eyes.But Kennedy's next exclamation caused me quickly to open them again.
"He'll make it, after all!"
Somehow Norton had regained partial control of his machine, but it was still swooping down at a tremendous pace toward the level centre of the field.
There was a crash as it struck the ground in a cloud of dust.
With a leap Kennedy had cleared the fence and was running toward Norton.Two men from the judge's stand were ahead of us, but except for them we were the first to reach him.The men were tearing frantically at the tangled framework, trying to lift it off Norton, who lay pale and motionless, pinned under it.The machine was not so badly damaged, after all, but that together we could lift it bodily off him.
A doctor ran out from the crowd and hastily put his ear to Norton's chest.No one spoke, but we all scanned the doctor's face anxiously.
"Just stunned--he'll be all right in a moment.Get some water,"he said.
Kennedy pulled my arm."Look at the gyroscope dynamo," he whispered.
I looked.Like the other two which we had seen, it also was a wreck.The insulation was burned off the wires, the wires were fused together, and the storage-battery looked as if it had been burned out.
A flicker of the eyelid and Norton seemed to regain some degree of consciousness.He was living over again the ages that had passed during the seconds of his terrible fall.
