The Boy Aviators Treasure Quest | Page 7

OVER it."
"By George! that's so, isn't it?"
"Of course it is," concluded the young reporter; and he artfully added,
"it would be a great chance to demonstrate Frank's pet theory that an
aeroplane that can float on the water on pontoons would be as easy to
construct as one that will fly in the air."
"What if a storm came up?"
"It is always calm in the Sargasso Sea, so Bluewater Bill told me. The
great mass of tangled weed prevents the waves breaking while the

severest storm may be raging all about. Nothing more alarming than a
gentle swell ever disturbs its repose."
Frank, the mechanical-minded, already had fished out an envelope, and
on its back was scribbling the rough outlines of the aluminum pontoons,
he had frequently made a mental resolve to attach to the aeroplane, so
as to render it safe on the water as well as over the land. He had no
intention then of embarking on the enterprise that Billy had outlined--at
least he didn't think he had--but any suggestion of aeroplane
improvement always interested the boy keenly and set his inventive
mind at work.
While the three boys had been discussing Bluewater Bill's strange tale
there had been a fourth auditor whose presence, had they known it,
would have caused them to talk in lowered voices. Sanborn, the
mechanic, from behind the canvas screen where he was supposed to
have been eating his breakfast, had been listening greedily to every
word the young reporter said. His eyes fairly burned in his head as he
listened and a half-formed resolve entered his mind.
There might be other persons who would be interested in learning of
the treasure ship which Sanborn's greedy mind already had regarded as
a reality.
"Guess I'll take a run down to Bluewater Bill's myself to-night," he said
to himself as he prepared to go to work on the aeroplane, at which Le
Blanc had been busy tinkering during the boys' talk.
"Well, Frank," said Billy at length, "what do you think of it?"
"I'll reserve decision till we see Bluewater Bill to-night," quietly
rejoined the other, rising from the box on which he had been sitting and
slipping into his leather coat.
CHAPTER III.
A TRIAL FLIGHT.

When the boys wheeled the Golden Eagle II out of its shed, the green
plains which stretched in an apparently limitless level on all sides were
flooded with bright sunshine. They had delayed longer than they had
intended to in making their start and already most of the other
prospective contestants had concluded testing their engines or giving a
final look over to brace wires and turn-buckles. A sparse sprinkling of
spectators from the village was already on the grounds, early as was the
hour.
The Golden Eagle's fuel and lubricating tanks were quickly filled, and
every bit of metal about her shone and glistened in the sunlight, making
a score of bright points of light. Her great planes, with their covering of
yellow vulcanized silk, were in marked contrast to the inky hue of the
Buzzard's surfaces, whose driver, Malvoise, was just settling into his
seat, his inevitable cigarette still in his mouth. The Buzzard was even
larger than the Golden Eagle, but her lifting capacity was a good deal
less, as she was not so well designed. Malvoise, however, was a
reckless driver, and had already had several narrow escapes from
upsets.
The other air men bustled about and from their engines came an
occasional gatling-gun-like rattle and roar, as they tried their motors
out. In the air was the raw smell of gasolene and the odor of trampled
grass. Clouds of blue smoke arose from where the proprietor of a small
biplane had drenched his cylinders with too much oil. Occasionally an
auto or a motor cycle chugged up, and the early comers watched with
intense interest the flying men preparing for their trial flights.
Frank and Harry paid little attention to the others as they drew on their
gloves, and carefully inspected their propellers. A man had been almost
killed on the grounds a few days before, when a propeller blade had
torn loose under the terrific strain of its 1200 revolutions a minute, and
the boys were not anxious for anything like that to happen to their
machine.
At last, everything seemed to be in order and the Chester boys
scrambled into their chassis. The Golden Eagle had been stripped of all
the appliances she usually carried as a passenger craft. Her searchlight

and wireless were missing. Her transom seats were gone. Several
braces had been taken out also, as the removal of her passenger
accommodations had rendered the strain on her framework much less.
"I'd hardly know her," remarked Billy, watching the boys, as they took
their places on two