Tom Swift in the Caves of Ice | Page 5

growing fainter as the time of starting drew nearer, made as if he would leave the monoplane, in which he had taken his seat.
"Sit still!" yelled Tom. At that instant he started the propeller. The motor roared like a salvo of guns, and streaks of fire could be seen shooting from one cylinder to the other, until there was a perfect blast of explosions.
The speed of the propeller increased as the motor warmed up. Tom ran to his seat and opened the gasoline throttle still more, advancing the spark slightly. The roar increased. The lad darted a look at Eradicate. The colored man's face was like chalk, and he was gripping the upright braces at his side as though his salvation depended on them.
"Steady now" spoke Tom, yelling to be heard above the racket. "Here we go."
The Butter-fly was moving slowly across the level stretch of ground which Tom used for starting his airships. The propeller was now a blur of light. The explosions of the motor became a steady roar, the noise from one cylinder being merged into the blast from the others so rapidly that it was a continuous racket.
With a whizz the monoplane shot across the ground. Then, with a quick motion, Tom tilted the lifting planes, and, as gracefully as a bird, the little machine mounted upward on a slant until, coming to a level about two hundred feet above the earth, Tom sent it straight ahead over the roof of his house.
"How's this, Rad?" he cried. "Isn't it great?"
"It--it--er--bur-r-r-r! It's--it's mighty ticklish, Massa Tom-dat's de word--it suah am mighty ticklish!"
Tom Swift laughed and increased the speed. The Butterfly darted forward like some hummingbird about to launch itself upon a flower, and, indeed, the revolutions of the propeller were not unlike the vibrations of the wings of that marvelous little creature.
"Now for some corkscrew twists!" cried the young inventor. "Here we go, Rad!"
With that he began a series of intricate evolutions, making figures of eight, spirals, curves, sudden dips and long swings. It was masterwork in handling a monoplane, but Eradicate
Sampson, as he sat crouched in the seat, gripping the uprights until his hands ached, was in no condition to appreciate it. Gradually, however, as he saw that the craft remained up in the air, and showed no signs of falling, the fears of the colored man left him. He sat up straighter.
"Don't you like it, Rad?" cried Tom.
This time the answer came with more decision.
"It suah am great, Massa Tom! I'm--I'm beginnin' t' like it. Whoop! I guess I do like it! Now if some of dem stuck-up coons could see me--"
"They'd think YOU were stuck up; eh, Rad? Stuck up in the air!"
"Dat's right, Massa Tom. Ha! Ha! I suah am stuck up in de air! Ha! Ha!"
By this time Tom had guided the machine away from the village, and they were flying over the fields, some distance from his house. The colored man was beginning to enjoy his experience very much.
Suddenly, just as Tom was trying to get a bit more speed out of the motor, the machine stopped. The cessation of the racket was almost as startling as a loud explosion would have been.
"Just my luck!" cried Tom.
"What's de matter?" asked Eradicate, anxiously.
"Motor's stalled," replied the young inventor.
"An', by golly, we's falling!" yelled the colored man.
Naturally, with the stopping of the propeller, there was no further straight, forward motion to the monoplane, and, following the law of nature, it began to drop toward the earth on a slant.
"We's fallin'! We'll be killed!" yelled the negro.
"It's all right, I'll just vol-plane back to earth," spoke Tom, calmly. "I've often done it before, higher up than this. Sit still, Rad, I'm volplaning back to the ground."
"An' I'll JUMP back to de ground; dat's what I'll do. I ain't goin' t' wait until I falls, no sah! An' I ain't gwine t' do none ob dat ball-playin' yo' speak ob, Massa Swift. It's no time t' play ball when yo' life am in danger. I'se gwine t' jump."
"Sit still!" cried Tom, for the colored man was about to spring from his seat. "There's no danger! I didn't say anything about playing ball. I said I'd VOL-PLANE back to the earth. We'll be there shortly. I'll take you down safe. Sit still, Rad!"
He spoke so earnestly that the fears of his colored passenger were quelled. With a quick motion Tom threw up the head planes, to check the downward sweep. The Butterfly shot forward on a gradual slant. Repeating this maneuver several times, the young inventor finally brought his machine to within a short distance of the earth, and, also, considerably nearer his own home.
"I wonder if we can make it?" he murmured, measuring the distance with his eye. "I think so. I'll shoot her up