Part 2 (1/2)
”He wants to get a taste of the life the story books describe. I told him it might not be such an appetizing meal but I imagine he's set on it.”
”So I believe,” answered Mr. Zept, ”although it isn't what I had planned for him.
”By the way,” he added quickly, ”you young men know how little there is in indulging this longing for wilderness adventure. I hope if you have a chance you won't fail to impress upon Paul the facts as we know them. I want him to live at home now, with his mother and me. I'm afraid he's been too long away from us.”
That evening the two young men could not resist the temptation to visit the downtown district where the hotels were crowded with visitors and the city was resplendent with unusual activity. Norman left Roy with some friends at the King George Hotel and went home at an early hour. When Roy called at Norman's house the next morning, on his way to the Stampede Grounds, he spoke of some new information he had picked up the night before.
”I found out last night,” he began at once, ”that everything isn't as suns.h.i.+ny in the Zept home as it might be. Our new friend, the Count, I was told by some friends, got a pretty early start in the fast life of Paris. Mr. Zept wants Paul to stay at home a while, as I get it, to make some changes in him if he can.”
”What do you mean?” asked Norman. ”But I can guess it--it's in his face.
And it isn't cigarettes either.”
”Right,” answered Roy. ”We call it booze out here, but in the young man's circle in Paris I reckon it wouldn't be worse than wine. Anyway, they say, young as he is, that's one of his pleasures. He doesn't look to me as if drinking had ever bothered him much but, from what I hear, he's come to the point where his father thinks he's got to stop it if it's ever going to be stopped. He's only been in town a few days and they say he rides like a States' Indian. But this hasn't taken all his time. He's already in with the fast set here and you know, in a pinch there's people in Calgary who can give a pretty good imitation of high life in great cities.”
”I can guess the rest,” said Norman. ”His father brought him out here to put him on a ranch. When he found that his son hadn't this idea, it rather upset certain plans.”
”And he'd like us to put in a few knocks but I reckon that'll be some job. As far as I can see, it's young fellows like Zept who turn these hards.h.i.+ps into glories. I've heard of kids like him who are really at home where there's no trail and whose idea of luxury is a canoe and a blanket and a piece of pork.”
”Well,” concluded Norman, ”if I didn't have the aeroplane bug just now, I'd like to have a chance at the ponies and horses on one of Mr. Zept's big ranches. A canoe and a blanket are all right, but on a cold evening when the snow's spitting I don't think they've got anything on a chuck wagon and a good tent.”
On the way to the show grounds, Roy went into further details of the gossip he had heard concerning young Zept's escapades, not only in Paris but in the south of France.
”One thing's sure,” commented Norman at last, ”wild as he may be about a lot of things, he ain't crazy about airs.h.i.+ps. That's saying something these days.”
This remark was made because the Count, while showing a polite interest in the _Gitchie Manitou_, had not bubbled over with exuberance. The boys felt somewhat chagrined over this lack of enthusiasm until they recalled that to young Zept an airs.h.i.+p was an old story, the young man having witnessed many flights by the most improved French monoplanes.
On this, the second day of the Stampede, about five o'clock Norman made a respectable if not very exciting flight. He was somewhat nervous and was glad when the exhibition was over, and had no sooner landed than he determined on the following day to attempt a more ambitious demonstration.
On Wednesday and Thursday he added some thrills to his evening flight, making on the latter evening a landing in the shape of a corkscrew spiral that got for him special notice in the newspapers the next morning. It also got for him an admonition from his father, when the latter read this story, that a repet.i.tion of it would result in a breaking of his contract with the Stampede authorities.
”All right, father,” conceded the young aviator, ”but that ain't a marker to the possibilities of the machine. I haven't put over the real stunt yet.”
”And what's that?” demanded his parent.
”I had planned, on the last day of the show, to make an ascent as high as one reservoir of gas would take me--and that means so high that you couldn't see me--and then make a volplane back to the ground without using the engine.”
”Are you going to try that?” demanded his father sternly.
The boy looked at him and laughed.
”Probably not--now,” he remarked, ”although the show'd be over then.”
”Try it,” snapped his father, ”and that'll be the last thing you'll have to do with your _Gitchie whatever-you-call-it_.”
The next evening, which concluded the big day of the Stampede, twenty thousand people attended the long afternoon's program. When the aeroplane appeared for its fourth flight, an army of people surrounded the starting field. Warned by his father, Norman made a less dangerous exhibit, but one that was on the whole more interesting to the eager spectators.
Having given ill.u.s.trations of many of the tricks of show aviators, including the roll and the banking of racing machines on short circular courses, he made a journey out over the hills until the aeroplane was lost to sight. The enthusiasm that greeted his reappearance and the approach of the machine like a bird through the blue haze of the endless prairies, stirred the crowd as the more dangerous maneuvers had not.
Before reaching the inclosure, the monoplane climbed about four thousand feet into the air and then volplaned gracefully toward one of the large exhibition buildings just in the edge of the grounds. When it seemed as if Norman was about to smash the _Gitchie Manitou_ against the big green-roofed building, even Roy started and held his breath. Then there was a quick spring upwards and, with the last momentum of the gliding monoplane, it lifted over the structure and settled upon the dust of the race track inclosure like a wide-winged bird.
When, escorted by ample police, the aeroplane had been wheeled into the aerodrome, the two boys immediately closed the doors and the officers dispersed the onlookers. It was late and there was not much trouble in doing this. When only a few persons were left in the vicinity, the doors were thrown open again and the car was trundled out to receive its after-flight examination. Norman, yet wearing his cap and jacket, had climbed into the c.o.c.kpit to overhaul the rudder wires and engine valves; Roy was inspecting the body of the car, when the attention of both boys was attracted by a cheery salutation from a stranger.