Ring Around the Sun by Nelson Martin

Author:Nelson Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: novel, Pancho Villa, Mexico
Publisher: Sunstone Press
Published: 2013-12-12T00:00:00+00:00

30

Back at Jeromino’s Shop.

Coot grinned as we stepped up to Jeromino’s prize. “Say now, Jeronimo, this propeller looks like it could fly by itself.”

Jeronimo said, “Over here is the propeller that was taken from your aeroplano. It is the same length, dimensions, slope, curve, and twist. Exactamente as the one I carved for you.”

Jeromino smoothed his hand over his work. “This propeller is as ready as I know how to perfect it. I believe it is balanced and will work for you. All you need to do is to drill eight precise holes to match the broken propeller with the big drill press you brought with you.”

Rose smiled when Coot turned to her. “Well, Ace, are we going to spend the night here ‘ooing’ and ‘aahing’ over this propeller? Or get in that tail-bustin’ Reo, and go mount her up?”

Jeromino beamed. “With your kind permission, I would like very much to see your flying machine, how this propeller draws it through the air.”

When we drove up to the Curtiss’ hiding place, dawn’s rosy fingers were stretching across the eastern sky. The day was crisp, bright, but by eight, we were all up looking for shade to escape the hot sun. Rose was back to her old self, jabbering at me, scolding Coot for his wayward ways, chastising him for having so many lady friends.

We set the metal facing-plate in place to serve as a template for the drill. Gregorio and Chico had a devil of a time getting the weight of the wheels, straps, and pulleys turning with the hand crank, but once in motion, the drill became a one-handed task. The augur bit slowly, cutting its way through the propeller, and within the hour, it had cut eight smooth holes. Coot used the calipers to measure the holes and the bolts at the front end of the Curtiss’ engine.

“Close, but no cigar. Holes are a tad tight.”

We built a fire, got a five-eighths inch bolt white-hot, and with the aid of a pair of blacksmith tongs, Coot grabbed up the bolt and pushed it through the holes in the prop in eight fluid motions. Just a whiff of smoke caused by the slight burning of the hard wood. We hoisted the propeller up in position in front of the crankshaft, and Coot taped it in place. “Like a silk glove.”

Jeromino held the facing plate in place while Coot tightened the nuts on the prop. “Well, Narlow, should we crank her up?”

Chico had stepped over behind some bushes to relieve himself. He ran back to us waving his arm.

“Senores!” Chico whispered, his finger to his lips, “Escuchar!” In a moment we heard men’s voices coming from the direction of the trail.

Coot hurried past me. “Come on, Chico, you too, Narlow. Grab a rifle. Let’s see who our visitors are. The rest of you keep out of sight.”

When we got to the edge of the boulders, three young men and an older, smaller man appeared, talking, chunking rocks up the trail ahead of them, heading south away from Carichic, preoccupied with their game.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.