The Motor Boys Over the Ocean; Or, A Marvelous Rescue in Mid-Air

“Oh, I don’t know, Jerry. It seems as if it might be a good one, but we’ve got a fine air-ship now, and it would be a pity to spoil it.”

“Who said anything about spoiling it?” demanded Jerry Hopkins, in rather indignant tones, as he looked across the table at his chum, Bob Baker, whose stoutness had gained him the nickname of Chunky. “Who wants to spoil the Comet, you old calamity howler?”

“Well, aren’t you talking of ripping it apart and putting some new-fangled attachment on it? I say let well enough alone.”

“Say, if everybody was like you, Bob, there wouldn’t be much done in this world. ‘Let well enough alone!’ If Columbus had said that, America would never have been discovered.”

“Oh, get out!”

“No, I’ll not. Here I come and propose a good improvement for our air-ship, something that will make it possible to do stunts over water, and you sit down on it!”

“What, sit on the water?” asked Bob, with a mischievous grin. “You know I never was much good at floating, Jerry.”

“Oh, cut it out! Now be serious if it’s possible. Honestly, what do you think of the idea? Look at the illustration there. It shows a fellow in an aeroplane getting his start on the water instead of on land, and rising up in the air. The article says that by means of the hydroplanes it is possible for an aeroplane to also land on the water and float. Now what I want to do is to attach hydroplanes to our Comet. How about it?”

“Gee! Anybody’d think you were delivering a lecture on aeronautics, Jerry! But, as I said, I don’t know what to say. You sprang this thing on me so suddenly. I’d like a chance to think it over.”

“Think it over! Why, it oughtn’t to take long to decide on a feature like this. Our air-ship is old-fashioned now. We’ve had it quite a while, and you know there has been a big advance made among the birdmen lately. Hydroplanes are the latest idea, and I say we ought to put them on the Comet, and also make other improvements. But I can’t do it unless you and Ned agree, as we each own a third interest in our air-ship.”

“That’s so. I wonder where Ned is?” and Bob looked out of the window, hoping he might see the third member of the motor boys’ trio. “Didn’t you meet him on your way over to my house, Jerry?”

“No. I stopped for him, but his mother said he was down at his father’s department store. Say, I shouldn’t be surprised but what there was some trouble in the Slade family, Bob.”

“Why?” asked the stout youth, his attention temporarily taken off the subject of air-ships by the serious tone in which his chum spoke. “What makes you think that, Jerry?”

“Because Mrs. Slade looked worried, and, come to think of it, Ned hasn’t been around much with us lately. He’s been down in the store a number of nights, helping his father on the books, he said. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if there was some trouble in the business.”

“I hope not. But I wish Ned were here to help settle this question.”

“It won’t take long to settle it when he does come,” retorted Jerry, rising and going over to the window, where he could get a better light on a magazine he had brought so that he too might show his chum some new ideas regarding air navigation. “I know Ned will agree with me,” went on the tall lad, “and you will be the obstructing party.”

“Well, large bodies move slowly, you know, Jerry. It takes me some time to make up my mind. Just what do you want to do to the Comet, anyhow? Put in a new steam-heating apparatus, or add a gymnasium, and shower-baths, and elevators?”

“Oh, don’t get funny, Bob! I’m serious. What I want to do is to add the hydroplane feature. That’s the biggest improvement, though there are several smaller ones to be put in. But it won’t be much work to attach the hydroplanes. All we need to do is to build on some air-tight floats, or boxes, which will do on the water exactly what the bicycle wheels of an aeroplane do on land--support it. Then, in case we have an accident, say over the ocean, we can just drop down, and float until we make repairs. Or, for that matter we can swim along on the water.”

“Why, you don’t expect to go over the ocean, do you?”

“No, but you never can tell what you want to do,” declared Jerry, “and the hydroplanes might be very useful some day.”

The time was to come, and that not far distant, when Jerry’s prediction was to bear fruit.

“Well, I’m not in favor of ripping the good old Comet too much apart,” declared Bob firmly. “She carried us many a mile, and did good service. Why, look at all we did in her. Look what a help she was in rescuing those poor people from the valley, when Professor Snodgrass got his flying lizard.”

“That’s all true, but if we have a motor-ship that can go on the water, the professor can get a flying fish, or something like that, in case he goes along with us on the next trip.”

“Oh, he’ll go all right enough,” spoke Bob, with a laugh. “Dear old professor! We wouldn’t know how to get along without him, though he sometimes does the oddest things.”

“You’re getting away from the main discussion,” said Jerry. “What about making the changes?”

“I’m not exactly in favor of them!” remarked Bob, after a moment’s thought. “The Comet was always good enough for us as she is, and why change her?”

“Oh, you and your ‘good enough’!” burst out Jerry. “Why don’t you have some progressive spirit in you?”

“I have, only I don’t want to spoil a good thing and----”

“Hello! Here comes Ned, now!” interrupted Jerry, looking out on the porch, the steps of which a youth was at that moment ascending.

“Well, we’ll see what he says,” remarked Bob. “I’ll wager that he’ll agree with me.”

“No, he’ll say that I’m right,” came from Jerry. “I’ll let him in.”

Jerry was so eager to hear what the new-comer would say, and Bob, because of his fleshy build, was so slow in getting up that the tall lad was at the front door before the young host had reached the portal, and had admitted Ned Slade.

“Just in time, Ned!” greeted Jerry. “You have the deciding vote.”

“What about?” asked Ned, and his chums were at once aware of a change in his manner. He spoke listlessly, and as if he was little interested. He seemed tired out, too, as if he had been working too hard, and yet it was only the beginning of the summer vacation.

“It’s about our motor-ship,” began Jerry.

“He wants to cut her all up, put on racing skates, or water shoes, or something like that, and add a lot of improvements,” broke in Bob, with a grin at his tall chum.

“Hydroplanes! hydroplanes! not water shoes, you old backwoodsman!” cried Jerry. “Here, Ned, let me explain,” and with that the tall lad launched into a lively description of the proposed changes, with Bob interrupting every now and then with an objection, or with some queer comment.

While the boys are thus engaged, I will take a moment to tell you something about them, for, though many of my readers are well acquainted with the motor lads, some of my new friends may never have been introduced to them.

The three chums were Jerry Hopkins, son of a widow, Mrs. Julia Hopkins; Bob Baker, whose father, Mr. Andrew Baker, was a wealthy banker; and Ned Slade, son of Aaron Slade, proprietor of a large department store.

The chums lived in Cresville, not far from Boston, and they had gained the title “Motor Boys” from the fact that they had been associated with motor vehicles for a long time.