By this time the monster had carried them out fully ten miles. It had not forgotten its old tactics of deep diving either, and there were numerous occasions when, after one of these submersions, it came up and started fiercely toward the boat, and it took the most skillful maneuvering on the part of the steersman, as well as wicked use of oars on the part of those in the craft, to drive the creature off and keep from being upset.

They let their anchor drag, and at times reversed the propeller, hauling on this side and that on the harpoon lines when the devil-fish would not be going to suit them. In this fashion it was slowly but surely tired out; they began to reel in slack line, and finally the immense fish was wallowing within twenty feet of the boat, surrounded by hungry sharks which had been attracted by its blood. It would never do to goad it now by hauling in on the lines, as it might dart under the boat and upset it, and the waiting sharks could then make a meal of its luckless inmates. So Mr. Choate told the boys to use their automatic revolvers and see if they could not dispatch the devil-fish at once. This was done, John, Tom, Paul, and Bob all firing several shots each, which put the monster in such a helpless state that they could handle it with less danger to themselves.

Until that moment not one of them realized that nearly five hours had elapsed since they first attacked this Jumbo of the sea, so busy had they been every moment of the time in trying to conquer the creature.

And everybody was quite exhausted, now that the excitement was over.

Although this fish had three harpoons in his body and a dozen shots in its head and heart, it was by no means dead, and the fishermen found considerable difficulty in towing it into the harbor, some miles away.

The natives of Bimini were greatly interested in the capture, and our friends were able to get fifteen of them to help draw the enormous carca.s.s ash.o.r.e where all could get a good look at it. They were amazed at the unusual size of the devil-fish, and Mr. Choate declared again that he had never seen such a large one of its kind. It measured twenty-two feet across, and must have weighed close to 5,000 pounds.

"Some people call the octopus a devil-fish," said Mr. Choate. "This is all wrong. They are both large and vicious creatures, but entirely different in looks. The devil-fish belongs to the ray family, and, as you see, is a huge bat-like creature which uses its body fins with a waving, undulating motion, and propels itself through the water at remarkable speed."

"It is built on the principle of our airplane--in looks," said Tom with a grin; "and in speed, too."

"So it is," responded Mr. Choate. "It derives its satanic name from these cephalic fins or lobes which extend outward and upward from each side of its flat head, like curling horns. When it dashes into a school of smaller fish, these fins whirl about in every direction, and as they are often four feet long they easily reach more than one hapless fish and he is swept into the yardwide mouth of the monster and devoured with almost lightning speed."

After a rest, the party went out in the motorboat again, this time to catch foodfish. They had fine luck, and after an appetizing meal aboard the _L'Apache_, in which their small catch played an important part, all set out for Miami, tired and happy.

CHAPTER XIII

THE STRANGE AIRPLANE

The first thing the boys did the following morning, after spending the night at the home of Mr. Choate, was to go down to the beach and see if their airplane was all right. They found one of the two negroes asleep, but the other fellow was faithfully on guard, and everything about the Sky-Bird seemed just as they had left it, although the watchers said that a considerable number of curious townspeople had come to look at the machine the day before and they had been very busy keeping venturesome boys off the craft.

Our friends let the negroes go to get their breakfasts and some sleep, and engaged two others to take up the watch. Following this, in company with Mr. Choate, they all retired to the bathhouse, secured bathing suits and had a fine time disporting themselves in the warm surf for the next hour. The youths had never experienced Gulf Stream bathing before, and the water was so enticing that it was hard to drag themselves out of it.

As they were in the act of emerging to dress themselves, a black speck, which all had noticed in the northern sky, had developed by nearer approach so that they thought they could recognize it as an airplane. It was coming down the coast very rapidly. Wondering if its pilot intended to land in the vicinity, they gathered on the beach and curiously waited for it to come nearer.

At times they were puzzled to know whether the approaching object were really an airplane or a great bird, for it surely looked like a bird with its swelling breast-line and slightly tilted broad-shouldered wings.

Closer and closer it came. It was flying very high.

When it was almost over them, Mr. Giddings uttered a startled e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n; "My stars, boys! It's _our_ machine!"

Paul and John Ross and Tom Meeks were equally astonished. They had noticed the strong resemblance at the same moment. Involuntarily, with Mr. Giddings and Mr. Choate, they turned their heads up the beach to see if the Sky-Bird II was where they had left it.

They saw its huge outline and its patrolling black guards. It had not changed position. Even a group of gaping Miami citizens lent reality to the situation, and some of the latter were gazing aloft at the other flying-machine, as our friends had been doing.

The stranger above them evidently had no intention of stopping. Instead of circling the town, as he would have done had he intended to land, he swept straight over and kept on his southward course, heading across Florida Strait.

On the face of every one of our friends, as they saw this image of the Sky-Bird II cross the sky overhead and disappear in the mists beyond, was a look of amazement, incredulity, and finally dark suspicion.

"Can it be--?" Mr. Giddings hesitated, and looked inquiringly at his younger companions.

"It looks that way," said John Ross, with a reluctant nod.

None needed to explain that the same thought had struck him, also. The stolen blue-prints--the skulking man with the swarthy face! He had duplicated the Sky-Bird!

More than that, each recalled the _Clarion's_ secrecy about the kind of airplane it planned to use; and its willingness to attempt the long "hops" which ordinary machines would have had difficulty in negotiating.

It all pointed to but one logical meaning. And Bob Giddings expressed the opinion of all when he observed:

"Dad, I believe there goes our prospective compet.i.tor in the race around the world! He's making for Panama now!"

Further comment on the situation would have been useless. All hands, each with disturbing thoughts of his own, went silently into the bathhouse and resumed his regular garb.

Mr. Choate and his wife begged them so hard to remain over another day at least that Mr. Giddings a.s.sented. That afternoon they went for a long automobile ride along improved roads, both sides of which were lined with palms in places, luxuriant tropical gra.s.ses in others, and towering forests covered with creeping vines. They stopped the car a number of times to visit great orange groves, and the boys had their first taste of the luscious fruit just as it ripened on the trees.

The following morning, directly after breakfast, they were besieged by two or three local newspaper reporters. Seeing no use of further concealing their ident.i.ty, Mr. Giddings gave out a little information to the gleeful newspaper men, but was careful to wire in to his own newspaper much more detail of their doings since leaving Yonkers, even mailing some photographs which they had taken of the tussle with the big devil-fish.

In the afternoon our party paid a visit to the aquarium again, extending it to the Biological Laboratory nearby; and took supper in the beautiful white casino, which fronts the beach, after they had had a refreshing plunge in the ocean's waters. Then Paul and Bob took up Mr. and Mrs.

Choate for a short flight in the airplane.

Early the next morning they bade their Miami friends good-bye, and once more took to the air, this time to complete the last leg of their journey to Panama. It was found that the Sky-Bird's fuel tanks were apparently still full enough to carry them to their destination, so it had not been necessary to store either gasoline or oil in Miami. This was very gratifying, as it showed quite conclusively that, later on in the race, the Sky-Bird would be able to make her longest jumps without the peril of fuel shortage.

At a height of close to two thousand feet they headed across Florida Strait, with Paul at the throttle. It was a real joy to be looking through the gla.s.s panels of the airplane's cabin once more, to hear the m.u.f.fled roar of her engine and propeller, and to realize that probably before dark they would be across the five hundred miles of blue waters of the Caribbean and hovering over the world-famous Ca.n.a.l Zone.

It was a fine morning. What clouds could be seen were well above them--light, billowy, and white, reflecting the sunlight so strongly upon the white-capped waters below, that the sea seemed much closer to the voyagers than it really was.

Shortly after eight o'clock they crossed over the long, low-lying island of Cuba, dipping down close enough to get a fairly good view of the topography. Then rising to three thousand feet, they swerved a little to the eastward and made off across the Caribbean Sea itself.

At a few minutes of eleven they sighted the sh.o.r.e of Jamaica, five miles or so to the eastward of them. Then John took the throttle, both engines were put into the work, and they began to whizz through the air at a clip which would have made them gasp for breath had they been in an open c.o.c.kpit. As it was, the rush of air as it swept along each side of the fuselage and off its narrowing tail, became a veritable howl in whose noise they found conversation very difficult. Tom Meeks, who was leaning over John's shoulder and watching the instrument-board, triumphantly announced presently that they were traveling at the rate of 280 miles an hour!

For thirty minutes or more John Ross kept the Sky-Bird going at this terrific speed, then he slowed up, and transferred into mono-engine gear, as there was no use in unnecessarily heating the power-plants. As the indicator of the speedometer retreated to 150 miles, he turned the throttle over to Bob Giddings, and said: "Hold her at this rate, Bob; it's plenty fast enough for the present."

It was a little after one o'clock when Paul and Tom announced land to the westward. After looking at the object, which surely had the appearance of land, Mr. Giddings laid down the gla.s.ses and consulted the chart.

"That's undoubtedly the outer point of Nicaragua," he said; and upon taking a look themselves with the binoculars, the others all agreed with him.

Keeping the low-lying coastline of the continent on their right, and buffeted considerably by contrary winds which now began to make themselves manifest, Bob threw the automatic-pilot into gear at a suggestion from John, as this insured greater safety, and steered with the rudder only. At once the riding became easier, for the moment a gust of wind hit the machine on one side, the elevators and ailerons shifted and counteracted its uneven effect.

After a while Bob turned slightly to the eastward, and about mid-afternoon they came in sight of Colon, the Atlantic terminal city of the great Ca.n.a.l. Sweeping over its collection of houses, at an elevation of about fifteen hundred feet, they pa.s.sed the big white Gatun locks, and followed the trail of the Panama Railroad across the great neck of rugged land which joined North and South America--followed, too, the tortuous, wonderful channel which American enterprise had cut through.

Thus over Gatun Lake they flew, over the Chagres River; along the course of Culebra Cut, with its high banks, across the Pedro Miguel and Miraflores locks on the other side of the isthmus; over Ancon; and finally below them lay cl.u.s.tered the white-robed buildings of Panama itself, with the swelling blue reaches of the big Pacific to the southward and westward, and the bold sh.o.r.e-line of South America to the southeastward.

Looking down as they circled the narrow tongue of land on which the city proper nestled, our friends soon made out the big Government landing-field and airdrome, distinguished by its whitewashed cobblestone markers at either end. And, now, as the Sky-Bird II swooped downward, several attendants in white pantaloons could be seen running out of the building.

When the airplane had settled, these men came up. Two were short, black fellows, probably San Blas Indians; but the other two were whites, though well-burned by the tropical suns. The taller of the white men introduced himself as Henry Masters, superintendent of the landing-field, and was extremely courteous when he learned the ident.i.ty of the new-arrivals.

"We have been looking for you gentlemen," said he, "and I'm glad to know you had such a fine run from Miami. There are a lot of strangers in town--been arriving for the last three or four days--all to witness the start of this big race. Most of them seem to be newspaper men from the States, though there are a number from South America, and even Africa and Europe. Is this the plane that you fellows representing the _Daily Independent_ are going to fly in?"

"This is the one, Mr. Masters," responded John.

"It is a beauty," said the superintendent with enthusiasm, as he glanced over the graceful outlines of the Sky-Bird. "I never saw one built on these lines until the other day, when what seems to be its twin came in."

"Much like-um lot," remarked one of the natives, and his companion, added more concisely: "Same like-um lot."