"Now, scouts," said Mr. Hawke, amused at their excited exclamations, "we'll put this together, and I'll show you the model of the 'Thunder Bird Aeroplane.'"
"Gee whiz!" exploded Fly, who was the first to find his tongue. "What do you know about that, fellows? That's the name of our patrol."
But the other boys were too deeply interested in what Hawke was doing to pay attention to Fly.
The aviator took the parts to the table and began putting them together.
"We'll make this a lesson," he said. "So fire in your questions."
"Well, I'd like to know how much that weighs?" complied Fly at once.
"About thirty pounds."
"Is it all there?" continued Fly.
"All but the engine."
"An' how much does a real one weigh—I mean a big one?" asked Dunk.
"Well, a full-sized machine built after this design would reach a weight of about 1,100 pounds or over, with the load."
"How fast would it go?" asked Herb.
"About forty miles an hour," replied Hawke.
"Whoopee!" cried Jerry. "That's sure goin' some."
"It doesn't seem to go that fast when you're up in the air," explained Hawke. "If you are gliding close to the ground the speed seems terrific, but after you reach the high altitudes you hardly notice that the machine is moving."
"They looked as though they was moving when I saw them at Nassau Boulevard meet," put in Tender Gray. "There was a half dozen of them up in the air at once most of the time."
"All biplanes like this one?" asked Fly, a little proud of his knowledge.
"Monoplanes too. Bleriots, Dumonts, Curtiss, Wrights, all kinds."
"What you fellows talking about?" asked Dunk, who knew little about the subject.
"Well, we mean, did they have two wings or one?" answered Fly, in an offhand tone.
"What's wings?" persisted Dunk, not to be put down.
"Why this is a biplane," explained Fly, with assumed grandness, putting his thumb under his armpit, "'cause it's got two wings, top and bottom—this and this." He pointed to the main planes. "A monoplane has only one wing, the top. And—"
"Stand back and give the professor room," interrupted Dunk, with mock solemnity.
"These wires look awful slim to me," said Jerry, when the general laugh subsided. "You don't go much on 'em, do you?"
"You bet, lots depends on them," answered Mr. Hawke, who was stringing light wires through miniature pulleys on the upper and lower wings. "They may look frail but in the full-sized machine they are the strongest piano wire."
"What do they do?"
"They really take most of the tension, and these struts take what is called the compression stresses. They're made of the lightest tough wood in the world—comes from Canada."
"Wish't I understood all that," said Tender in a rather discouraged tone.
"You can't understand everything in one lesson," put in Fred.
"Yes, that's right. We'll have to start at the beginning and go through," responded the aviator, with a good-natured smile. "But, of course, we haven't time for that to-night. I'm just giving you a general idea."
Carlito had said nothing up to this time, but he had been looking on very carefully, and listening with rapt attention.
"Looks like it would fly just like a bird," he said, when the model was finally completed, and the boys were inspecting it.
"That's just it," cried Jerry, remembering the conversation of the morning, "and we want one to chase the Thunder Bird with."
"The question is, how are we going to get it?" objected Fred, businesslike as usual. "We fellows ain't got enough money."
"Yuh ought to talk to father," said Herb. "He said he'd give anything to get that rascal that's killin' our sheep. Besides," he added, laughing, "I've been digging for an aeroplane for a long time."
"Do you think he'd help us out?" asked Fly eagerly.
"I think a talk with Mr. Hawke would do a powerful lot," responded the southerner. "Cain't you-all come over Sunday afternoon? Dad's going to Santa Rita to-morrow morning to be gone till then."
"Yes, please go over and tell him what the aeroplane could do," urged Fly, anxious to realize the dream which seemed almost too good to be true.
"Sure, won't you, Mr. Hawke," chimed in Jerry.
"All of you fellows come, cain't yuh?" asked Herb.
There was a rapid fire of affirmatives.
"How about yuh, Mr. Hawke?" persisted the rancher.
"Why, of course. I'll be glad to take a ride over with the boys and meet your father."
"All right, then, that's settled, and now it's time for us guys to go. Tender and I have to ride to the B. P. yet. Good night, Mr. Hawke. If it wasn't so late we'd sure like to give yuh three cheers."
"Instead, I'll shake hands with you all," responded the aviator, as they filed past him at the door. "And remember, I'm yours for the medals and the Thunder Bird hunt. And—if we can get it—the finest aeroplane that's been made yet."