"Well, he gave a little gasp; his eyes snapped, and he quit walking the floor and sat down on the davenport. 'Robert,' he said, 'I'll think this matter over.' Then he lit a cigar and went to smoking. Dad seldom smokes except when he's got something heavy on his mind."

John and Paul now joined Bob in putting a knee-brace in the new airplane body. Somehow they had a feeling that the parts they were a.s.sembling with such care would one of these days go on a very long and arduous journey.

CHAPTER VI

THE MISSING BLUE-PRINTS

The Air Derby created interest all over the world. People in foreign lands talked about it and read about it in their newspapers, just as they had done in the United States and Canada. With the keenest kind of interest they had followed the reports of its progress and its finish. Several nations had hoped to have their own representatives come in first, only to be disappointed.

All this interested world p.r.i.c.ked up its attention anew when the bold editorial of the _Daily Independent_ was widely copied. As John Ross had predicted, and as probably Mr. Giddings knew before he wrote it, this particular article caused a furore of comment editorially and otherwise. Much of this,--indeed, it seemed the most of it--was favorable to the stand taken by the New York publisher. But when the rival sheet, the _Clarion_, arrayed its strong force in opposition, the conservative element of the public felt vastly encouraged, and many were the heated personal arguments as well as newspaper duels, which ensued. Aviators all over the land were particularly concerned, and it goes without saying that the winners of the late compet.i.tion were all lined up with the _Clarion_ contingent. This paper's challenge to the _Daily Independent_ for a two-party race around the world on the _Independent's_ own conception of what it considered a fair route awoke great joy in the hearts of the leave-things-as-they-have-been adherents. Few, if any of them, particularly the publishers of the _Clarion_, thought Mr. Giddings would ever take up the challenge.

Therefore, judge of the surprise of everybody, and the dismay of the _Clarion_ staff, when a few days following the flaunting of its challenge, the front page of the Giddings paper contained the following, under a heavy black type heading:

THIS PAPER ACCEPTS THE "CLARION'S" CHALLENGE

A short time ago the _Daily Independent_ in an editorial strongly criticized the methods or rather routes used in the past in making world tours for a time record, stating that such journeys had all been made unfairly, in that the routes adopted were about a third less than the actual circ.u.mference of the globe, and that in our opinion the only legitimate around-the-world record could be made by following approximately the equatorial line.

We expected a good deal of criticism, of course, when we came out thus boldly against a custom which had prevailed since the beginning of so-called "around the world" record trips. But we did not expect to be challenged to prove our sincerity by ourselves making such a journey in compet.i.tion with our esteemed but rabid contemporary, the _Clarion_.

To show the _Clarion_ that we are not "bluffing," and that we are perfectly willing to demonstrate practically any position we ever take, we herewith accept its challenge. Even now we have in process of construction a new type of airplane, by means of which we are confident we can fly approximately straight around the belly of this old world entirely by air. A little later we shall announce a time, place, and route, in our columns, and sincerely trust the _Clarion_ will be satisfied with them.

It is quite unnecessary to say that Paul and John Ross read the foregoing article with the keenest pleasure the night they reached home from the hangar and found their mother just finishing its perusal.

Naturally Mrs. Ross felt all of the average mother's anxiety at the thought that her sons would be exposed to the perils such a long journey would invite, but on the other hand she was very proud to think their talents had placed them in such an honored position. It had only been an evening or two before that Mr. Giddings, in company with his son Robert, had called at the Ross homestead, and after a long conference with the boys as to the suitability of the new Sky-Bird II for making a world cruise, had taken his departure with his mind fully made up as to how he should meet the rival paper's challenge.

A few days subsequently, Bob Giddings found, upon reaching home for lunch, that his motorcycle, which he was in the habit of riding back and forth to work, so that he could rush into town on short notice and get emergency materials for the airplane, had a flat tire. As he could not fix the tire then, he decided to walk back to the fair-grounds.

As he emerged from the big front yard of his home, he chanced to look toward town, and observed an orange-colored taxicab standing near the first crossing. This would not have especially attracted Bob's attention, except for the fact that a man sitting on the front seat was just at that moment pointing his index finger toward the Giddings'

place, and a slender-looking man just descending from the cab was looking that way and nodding his head.

It seemed to Bob that he had seen the pa.s.senger before, but a second look made him think he must be mistaken; at least he could not place him.

"It's probably somebody to see dad. If so, he'll get disappointed, as dad won't get back from the city before evening."

Dismissing the incident from his mind with this thought. Bob hurried down the road, eager to reach the hangar and get to work again on the new airplane.

A few moments after he had pa.s.sed the home of a youth he knew, he heard a familiar salutation, and turned around to wave his hand in a greeting to this friend, who had come to the front door. As he turned, his eye fell on a slender figure some distance behind, a figure which stepped behind a tree and stopped.

"Humph! that's funny," mused Bob. "It looks a lot like that fellow who got out of the taxi back there by our house; I wonder what he's up to, anyhow?"

He continued his way, but as he reached the fair-grounds gate and got out his key to unlock it, the whim to look back again seized him. As he turned, his gaze once more rested on the slender form of the wayfarer, who had crossed to the opposite side of the road, and who now, finding himself observed once more, promptly stopped and began to fuss with his shoe-lace.

"Say now, this is funny!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bob under his breath, vainly trying again to recall the ident.i.ty of the lean figure and dark complexion. "I believe that chap is trying to shadow me. I wonder what in the d.i.c.kens he really is up to?"

It was the second time Bob had asked that question of himself, but as he was a poor source of information just then, he was forced to pa.s.s into the fair-grounds and relock the gate in as mystified a state of mind as before he put the query.

A little later, when he reached the big hangar he whirled about again, as if half expecting to see the stranger still skulking behind him in the grounds. To his relief he did not detect this situation exactly, but he did see a dark face, which had been peering over the top of the highboard fence near the gate, drop down from view on the other side.

Bob gave a grunt as he pa.s.sed into the hangar and took off his coat.

"As I live, I believe he's up to some sort of mischief," growled the boy. And when, shortly afterward, John and Paul Ross appeared he told of his experience and repeated his suspicions.

"That is funny," a.s.serted John; "Paul and I saw nothing of any such man when we came along, and we pa.s.sed down the same road. Perhaps he mistook you for somebody else."

"I hope so, but I don't like his actions a little bit," declared Bob stoutly.

With that he picked up a try-square and pencil and began laying out some work for Paul to cut on the circular saw, while John busied himself at the boring-machine in putting a hole through the center of the big twelve-foot balsa-wood propeller which a little later would be reinforced with a thin jacket of a new metal called "salinamum," which was made chiefly from salt but whose fused components made it as light as aluminum and stronger than tool steel.

Soon the queer actions of the stranger were quite forgotten in the deep interest of the three young men in their work. With the prospect of a world tour before them if the Sky-Bird turned out well, they now had more incentive than at the beginning to build the machine with the utmost skill and attention to every detail. Some changes, calculated to make the craft better adapted to the peculiar conditions she would be likely to meet in such a varied temperature were put into effect, but on the whole they found their original plans so well laid that no important features seemed to require modification or abandonment.

But if the man who had followed Bob dropped out of their minds the rest of that day, he was soon to occupy a prominent place in their thoughts.

For the very next morning, when Paul and John arrived at the hangar, they were met at the door by a very agitated Bob Giddings.

"Fellows, what do you think has happened?" cried Bob, clearly very much excited. Without giving his friends time to answer the question he blurted out: "Somebody got in here last night and stole our plans!"

"Stole our plans!" reiterated Paul and John in the same gasp.

"That's it," said Bob,--"stole the set of blue-prints we have been working from. What's more, they must have seen the airplane before they got out. I went to take the plans out of the bench drawer here where we have kept them locked up, and there was the drawer wide open, the lock picked, and the drawings gone. I'll bet a herring we can thank my dark-skinned shadow of yesterday for this little visit!"

"It does look as if he might have had something to do with this,"

agreed John soberly. "I wonder how the rascal, whoever he is, could have gotten in the building. There's a heavy Yale lock on the doors."

"The doors were locked all right when I came this morning," vouched Bob. "I don't see myself how--"

"Here you are, gentlemen!" called Paul, who had stepped to a good-sized window near the head of the workbench. "Here's the fellow's private entrance!" And he pointed to where a heavy nail locking the lower sash had been forced aside, also to a series of indentations in the outer sill, where some prying tool had obviously been recently at work.

"It's a clear case of theft, that's sure," observed John; "and since its only our plans that have been taken, it goes to show that this chap is very much concerned about this new airplane."

"Perhaps he wishes to beat us out in getting the patent rights," Bob hinted darkly.

"No, I don't think it's that," differed Paul; "our application was sent in to Washington some weeks ago, and you know the first one to apply for a certain patent gets the attention."

"Well, then, he could use our plans and make and sell airplanes of their pattern, couldn't he?" asked Bob, whose ideas of patent laws were still a little vague.

"Not at all; if he did we could sue him for infringement," was Paul's answer. "The only way he could profit by this theft, so far as I can see, would be to construct a machine for his own private use, or to give to another person. We could not touch him for that."

"And that would be bad enough for us--if such a machine were used against us in this proposed race around the world, wouldn't it?"

demanded Bob Giddings.

Paul and John Ross looked at him in dismayed astonishment. They had not thought of this contingency before.

CHAPTER VII