give me your hand on that!” exclaimed harvey hamilton, impulsively, stepping forward. professor morgan met him half way, for he had been completely won over. the change of mood on his part was almost incredible. the young aviator had gained a remarkable victory.

“i have been so delayed,” said the elder, “that i’m not willing to lose another minute.”

“why should you? i shall give myself the pleasure of seeing you start and wishing you the best of luck.”

the inventor’s delight was childish. he chuckled and boasted of the sensation he would cause when, at the end of a week, he returned from the pacific coast, and picking up harvey hamilton skim away for the other side of the atlantic.

“and you will go with me sure, young man?” he asked, after seating himself in his monoplane, looking wistfully down upon him.

“just as sure as i secure my father’s consent,—you may depend on that.”

“i shan’t forget it.”

seated at the front the professor glanced sharply around. the package of supplies which he had gathered at the hotel in dawson was secured on the seat behind him, and the controls which governed the uplifter, the searchlight, the rudders and motor were found in perfect trim. nothing remained to be done except to call a cheery good-bye to the friend whom only a little while before he looked upon as his most execrated enemy. harvey swung his cap and never were more hearty good wishes shouted to a voyager than he sent after the inventor, who turned his monoplane westward, as if the course was as familiar to him as that between purvis and the points immediately surrounding it.

the young aviator stood watching the helicopter as it sped away, until it became only a flickering speck in the distance and then faded from sight.

“poor man!” sighed harvey, “i wonder if i shall ever see him again.”

he never did. somewhere in those impressive solitudes, professor milo morgan and his dragon of the skies met their fate. on that summer day in 1910, when he steered the astonishing product of his brain toward the setting sun, he passed into the great unknown, from which he will never[287] return. he was only one of the martyrs whose numbers must be added to before the problem of successful aviation will be solved.

now that he had taken himself out of the affairs of harvey hamilton the latter stood for a long time, wondering, speculating, hoping, and yet fearing what the end of it all was to be. the inventor in his haste had not even paused to close the door of his workshop. harvey gently shut it, but observing no lock, he walked to his biplane and a few minutes later was at the home of aunt hep, where he had dinner with her and ann. when he had told his story of the departure of professor morgan he made a proposal.

“i want to surprise your brother, of the washington hotel at dawson, by taking both of you with me. this you know will be only a call, and i can bring ann back to finish her visit.”

“i never can think of it,” protested the elder lady.

“there’s no need of thinking of it; come on.”

the good woman shook her head and remained obdurate, but in the end she yielded; the two passengers took their seats, and if there was ever an astounded man it was the landlord, when the aeroplane settled to rest in front of his hotel, and springing lightly to the ground, the young aviator helped out the ladies.

not only was the man amazed, but he was indignant. he declared that the two had taken their lives in their hands and done the most tomfool thing ever known. ann’s declaration that she intended to return with her aunt by the same vehicle that had brought them thither was met by an emphatic refusal. the daughter was forbidden ever to repeat the act, and though she pleaded and whimpered, she was ordered into the house, there to stay until her “paw” allowed her to step outside. harvey had made a mistake in counting upon the consent of the parent. so, perforce, he bade ann good-bye and returned with her aunt, who was safely deposited at her own door.

his next proceeding was to sail to the camp on the shore of the lake, and rejoin brother dick, hunter, wadsworth and bohunkus johnson, who as may be supposed were consumed with curiosity to learn what the flight of the monoplane and its owner meant. they had seen it heading to the westward and could not guess the explanation. they soon had the story from harvey, who blushed at the compliments he received.

“i’ll admit that you are ten times wiser than your big brother,” said dick; “for you did the only thing that could avert the gravest peril.”

“there can be no question as to that,” assented[289] hunter; “the professor was boiling with rage and revenge and he would have done terrible things with those torpedoes of his.”

“but he is out of the running now,” commented wadsworth.

“i wonder,” continued dick, “that he did not attack you the minute you came within reach.”

“i think he would have done so had he not seen i was armed. i took care that he should know that. you had already given him a good scare with your winchester and he had no liking for my smaller weapon. i fell in with his views or seemed to, and he was won over. i gave him my promise that when he returned from the pacific coast i should go with him across the atlantic, provided father and mother consented.”

“a mighty safe promise to make.”

“am yo’ gwine to take dat trip to afriky?” asked the grieved bunk.

“yes, when i can gain the permission of my parents.”

“how ’bout me?”

“it’s the same with you; if mr. hartley says yes, you can go with the professor.”

“but yo’ told me he’s crazy; how ’bout dat?”

“so he is; do you think my people will allow me to do as you did?”

the truth filtered through the brain of the colored youth. he held his peace and listened to what the others said.

the most natural sequence of the incidents narrated was that since none of the three had ever ridden in a monoplane, they should decide to indulge in the experience. dick hamilton, without the least hesitation, climbed into the rear seat and settling into position with his hands grasping the supports, called upon his brother:

“let her went!”

bunk assisted in starting in the usual fashion by setting the propeller revolving and holding the machine back until the “auspicious” moment, while the three who stayed behind watched the flight, which proved more thrilling than even harvey expected. when only a few hundred yards away and before much of a height was reached, the biplane dived into an aerial pocket or maelstrom, which came within a hair of making it turn turtle. the young aviator had no thought of anything of the kind, and for the instant was unprepared. the huge wings flapped like those of a mortally wounded bird, it reared and then dipped on the right, until in a twinkling it stood almost vertical. the spectators held their breath, certain that a frightful tragedy was going on before[291] their eyes. dick hamilton believed the same, and held on as he had done many a time when executing the giant swing in the gymnasium. instinctively he swung as far as he could to the left; harvey did the same, raising the right ailerons and lowering the left, and drove ahead. it was the only thing that could save them. as it was, when the machine shot through the furious swirl into the calmer stratum beyond, it still wavered, shook and leaned over so far that several minutes passed before it was brought back to its horizontal position.

harvey glanced over his shoulder at his brother, who smiled back, but his face was as white as a sheet and he decisively shook his head. he did not like it and longed to be back on firm ground. he did not shout, but had the good sense to know that harvey understood the situation better than he and would meet it as best he could.

in its descent the biplane had hardly touched the earth and was still running when dick made a flying leap from his seat.

“thank the lord!” he exclaimed; “i’m with ye once again. no more for me!”

his friends laughed and rallied him. but he was insistent.

“terra firma is good enough for me; you may try to reach heaven before your time, but i’m through.”

[292]then wadsworth suggested that hunter should take the next turn. the southerner couldn’t rob his friend of the honor; he would wait until his comrade had enjoyed the treat. in the end, though, harvey and even bunk joined in urging them to accept harvey’s invitation, they sturdily refused, because of what they had witnessed a few minutes before.

harvey stayed through the next day in camp, hoping to overcome the fears of the two, but did not succeed. even dick held out and the young aviator ceased his urgings. he and bunk went on several tramps and had some hours of fine fishing. then they bade their friends good-bye and headed southward down the hudson. they replenished their gasoline and oil at albany, again at poughkeepsie, as glenn curtiss had done before them, and by easy stages finally landed at their home near mootsport. harvey had sent a telegram from albany to his father giving him the news of the rescue of bunk, so the arrival of the couple was expected.

bunk was distrustful as to the reception that awaited him, but mr. hartley was as sensible as his neighbor and did not utter a word of reproof. they understood the slow-witted lad better than he did himself.

and here it is well to close our story. harvey and bunk made other excursions, some of which were attended by interesting experiences; but enough has been told. throughout the weeks that followed all waited anxiously for news of professor morgan and his helicopter, but as has been said none ever came and as the months passed all doubt of his tragic fate was removed.

dick hamilton returned to yale in due course, but secured a short leave for a visit to the adirondacks early in october. his heart was set upon procuring those magnificent antlers which had been within his grasp more than once. he hunted persistently under the lead of guide akers, but was obliged to go back to the university disappointed. in his letter making this known to his father he said:

“i have established one astonishing fact in natural history: the deer and other big game in maine, the adirondacks and elsewhere know exactly when the close season ends and they govern themselves accordingly. that buck last summer continually got in front of me, was as tantalizing as he could be even to the extent of grinning at me, knowing all the time that i daresn’t harm a hair of his hide. now that it is the open season, you might run a fine tooth comb from one end of essex county to the other without bringing him to light. if i stay here until november 1, he will walk out of the woods at sunrise, halt twenty paces away and grin at me again. but let him beware: he may tempt me too far.”