CHAPTER XXIV

CAUGHT IN A THUNDERSTORM

“Fred, what do you say if we take a flight together this afternoon? There is no wind and I guess we can have a good time.”

“All right, Joe,” answered the stout youth. “Where shall we fly to?”

“I was thinking it might be quite a stunt to fly to Pine Island and visit our old camping place.”

“Say, that would be a scheme!” cried Fred, enthusiastically. “But can we find a suitable place for landing?”

“I think so. Don’t you remember that big bare spot where we once shot a lynx? I think that will make a dandy landing place.”

“So it will. Yes, let us go by all means--we’ll have the whole afternoon to ourselves.”

This talk took place two days after the letters about the aviation contests had been sent to Brookside and to Haverford. So far no answers had been received. The day was an ideal one, and Joe and Fred found themselves alone, the other boys having gone elsewhere, some for pleasure and others on errands for their folks.

Neither Joe nor Fred had been up to Pine Island for some time. The island was a large one, located near the head of the lake, and had been the scene of many hunting and camping-out affairs of the boys of Lakeport. It was there that the Gun Club of Lakeport had gone, in company with old Joel Runnell, and shot many wild animals and had had “the time of their lives,” as Harry often expressed it.

It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, and Joe and Fred devoted the hour before dinner to getting the _Skylark_ ready for the trip. Then the oil box was filled up, also the gasoline tank, and Joe made a short trial trip, to test the biplane.

“Where are you going, Joe?” asked his mother, as she noticed him hurrying through his midday meal.

“Oh, Fred and I are going to take a trip up the lake,” he answered.

“In the flying machine?”

“Yes.”

“Then be very careful,” went on Mrs. Westmore, and heaved a little sigh. Although she was growing a little accustomed to these flights in the air, still down in her heart she was sorry the lads had taken up aviation.

“Feels to me a little like a storm,” remarked Mr. Westmore. “So you had better not get too far from home.”

“A storm, Dad?” queried the son. “Why, the sky is as clear as a bell!”

“I know, but it feels like rain, nevertheless,” went on the father. “You be careful.”

A little after one o’clock found Joe and Fred wheeling the _Skylark_ out to the starting field. Some town boys were on hand and ready to give all the assistance necessary.

It had been arranged that Joe should steer the biplane on the outward trip, as it was thought he might be able to make just the right landing on the island. Fred would be at the wheel coming back.

The aircraft went up with scarcely an effort, the town boys cheering loudly, as was their custom. The young aviators were in the best of spirits and anticipated a grand outing. Both had now gotten over their timidity when in the air, and could thoroughly enjoy a flight.

Joe made a circle over the town and then headed up the lake. He knew the way well, and as there was scarcely any wind, the steering of the biplane was easy. They went at a slow rate of speed and at a height of less than two hundred feet, and both sat back, to enjoy the panorama that was rolled out under them. They could see the sparkling waters of the lake, dotted here and there with sailboats and other craft, and on either side the meadows and hills, with their tidy farms and stretches of woodland. Here and there was a rocky point, and Joe noted one in particular--on which he and some other lads had nearly been wrecked in the Shale sloop.

The motor of the biplane was working well, and occasionally Joe amused himself by putting on a burst of speed, and by making big turns to the right and the left. But at these Fred shook his head and pointed ahead to the island, showing that he wanted to get there. Truth to tell, the stout lad was rather dubious concerning the landing they expected to make.

Presently they saw Pine Island looming up before them,--a perfect gem of green trees and bushes set in the midst of the blue waters of the lake. Joe slowed down the motor and allowed the biplane to move over the island slowly, and both the aircraft boys gazed down anxiously, trying to discover the cleared spot Joe had mentioned.

At last they found the locality and sailed over it. It seemed to be as clear as ever, only some grass and a few low bushes showing. Joe nodded to his chum and Fred nodded in return, to show that he was satisfied. Then the _Skylark_ was brought around in a wide half-circle, and Joe headed for the spot and shut off the motor.

It was not an easy landing and they barely escaped the branches of a tree at the edge of the clearing. They ran over several bushes, bumped over a few small stones, and came to a halt twenty feet from the opposite side of the clearing.

“Good for you, Joe!” cried Fred, as he leaped to the ground. “I guess no professional aviator could make a better landing than that.”

“Wonder if anybody is on the island,” said Joe, as he, too, jumped to the ground.

“Perhaps. It is getting to be quite a picnic place, so I have heard. A Bralham Sunday school came here on a picnic during August, and the Chowder Club of Brookside came here in July.”

The two youths looked over the airship, to see that everything was all right, and then started for a short stroll over the island. They visited one of the spots where they had once camped out, and Fred pointed out the place where he had gotten some small game. Then they stopped at a spring where the water was cold and clear, and got a drink.

“Hello! what’s that?” exclaimed Joe, while they were resting near the spring. “Hark!”

Both listened and heard a faint sound stirring through the trees. Ordinarily they would not have paid any attention to this, but now it meant much to them.

“The wind is coming up!” cried Fred. “Say, I don’t like that!”

“Neither do I,” answered Joe. “Perhaps we had better get back, before it comes on a regular blow, Fred.”

“I think so myself. Come on!”

The young aviators leaped up and hurried to where the _Skylark_ had been left. They had to walk quite a distance, and by the time they reached the clearing they were further alarmed to see the sun disappear behind a mass of heavy, black clouds to the westward. Then came the unmistakable rumble of thunder.

“My father was right--it is going to rain,” said Joe. “Come, we haven’t a minute to spare--if we want to get to Lakeport before the storm breaks.”

“Do you think we can make it, Joe?” asked his chum, anxiously.

“I don’t know, but we can try--unless you want to stay here in the storm.”

“No, I’d rather get home--and get the _Skylark_ in the hangar. It might get damaged out here--if it blows real hard.”

Without further words the aircraft boys made ready to leave the island. The biplane was run to the extreme end of the clearing and they beat down some bushes and removed some stones that lay in its path. Then they made a quick start, Fred at the wheel and Joe in the seat beside him.

Getting up into the air was comparatively easy, and they hit nothing more damaging than the small upper limbs of a tall tree. But as soon as they were above the woods, the _Skylark_ felt the force of the wind and careened wildly to the left. As quick as lightning Fred shifted the necessary controls and brought the biplane up to a level keel. Then he brought the craft around and started in the direction of Lakeport.

By this time the sky was dark all around the aircraft and the rain had begun to fall. The wind was increasing and it came in fitful gusts that were extremely trying to the young aviators’ nerves. Then came a streak of lightning that was all but dazing, and a sharp crack of thunder.

[Illustration: THEN CAME A STREAK OF LIGHTNING THAT WAS ALL BUT DAZING.]

Fred and Joe looked at each other and both shook their heads. Each wanted to speak, but, as mentioned before, talking with the motor in operation was out of the question. Both realized that the storm was likely to prove too much for them, and that they had better try to make a landing as soon as possible.

When Fred looked at his chum again Joe pointed to the mainland that was nearest to the island, and the lad at the wheel nodded. Then came more thunder and lightning, followed by another rush of wind. The _Skylark_ was tilted up on one side and for an instant it looked as if the flying machine would go over. But Fred kept his wits about him and brought the craft around once more.

What to do next neither of the lads knew, and afterwards both said they fully expected to be thrown into the lake. To manage the biplane in those fierce gusts of wind was next to impossible. The aircraft drifted hither and thither, Fred having all he could do to keep the biplane from going over.

The boys had been up but a few minutes--although to them it seemed an age--when there came a brief lull in the wind, and a lightening of the sky directly overhead. But both could see that the storm was by no means at an end.

Both looked down and saw below them the very island they had left. Just ahead was the cleared spot. Quickly Joe motioned to it, and nodded his head, as if to advise his chum to descend. Fred was willing, and shaping their course as well as he was able, the stout youth shut off the power, and down they came with a rush.

They struck some bushes and bumped along over the uneven ground. Both were well shaken up, but no damage was done to either the boys or the flying machine. Then they dragged the _Skylark_ under the tallest of the trees and there staked it fast, so that it might not be blown around by the wind and wrecked.

By this time the sky had darkened once more and the rain was coming down in a deluge. Occasionally would come a flash of lightning, followed by a peal of thunder that would roll over the lake and among the hills beyond.

“Say, I’m mighty glad we didn’t try to get home,” remarked Joe, as both boys crouched down under the planes of the machine, to keep out of the rain.

“We couldn’t have done it, Joe,” was the reply. “Why, I had all I could do to keep her from going over! Excuse me from trying to sail in such a wind!” And Fred shook his head seriously.

“Yes, we were lucky to get back here, Fred. I thought first we could make the shore--to tell our folks by telephone that we were safe. But never mind, we can stay here until it clears off.”

“Maybe it will rain and blow all night.”

“I don’t think so.”

After that the boys said but little. The wild flight in the air, even though of short duration, had exhausted them, and they were content to rest and let the elements take care of themselves. Both were pleased to note that the lightning and thunder were growing more distant, showing that the storm was moving away.

By five o’clock the rain was at an end and much of the wind had gone down. The boys crawled out from under their shelter and gazed earnestly at the sky.

“I think it will be all right in a little while,” cried Joe. “See, the sun is beginning to shine again!”

“Let us wait a while and see,” returned Fred. He had no desire to repeat his thrilling experience in the air.

The boys drew the biplane from under the big tree and looked it over once more. They were just finishing this work when they heard a shout from the edge of the woods, and the next moment saw Joel Runnell approaching them.

“Hello, you here?” cried the old hunter. “I thought I heard something like an airship or a motor boat around.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Joe. “Fishing?”

“Not to-day, Joe,” was the answer. “I came on rather a funny errand. I heard that a strange man had been seen on this island, and I came over to see if it might be Mr. Akers.”