“Huh! guess they feel too blamed sore this mornin’ to be up an’ around,” was the sensible conclusion arrived at by Perk after his fears had been dissipated and in this summing up of the conditions he was seconded by Jack, likewise their mutual friend, Cyclone Davis.
It was Jack’s custom to always have his ship in condition for an immediate flight—there could be no telling how soon an order might reach them giving directions for a hasty takeoff with their goal any old place as Perk was accustomed to remarking off-hand.
Consequently there was always a full tank of gas on board together with plenty of lubricating oil and all manner of essential things so necessary to a successful flight. Of course, as a rule they could drop down at some wayside landing field for the purpose of replenishing their stores since the whole country was becoming dotted with such necessary places, some of them gorgeously fitted up with everything in the way of landing lights, extra hangars for visiting ships and even service plants for supplying gasoline with little effort.
Cyclone displayed no actual concern as he was secured in his seat by a stout leather strap, having also had the parachute harness fastened to his back. He watched every move of his two experienced companions with eagerness and asked not a few pertinent questions, thus showing his desire to know all there was connected with the flying game.
Then the pilot gave her the gun and they started to move along with constantly accelerated speed until presently Jack lifted his charge and they no longer found themselves in contact with the earth but mounting toward the blue sky overhead.
Up, up they climbed with great spirals marking their course—the earth below began to lose its individual proportions and looked like an immense checkerboard to the thrilled cowpuncher.
Cyclone could be seen twisting his head this way and that, eager to see everything. Perk, noting this, nodded his head as though feeling positive the other was going to fall in love with flying. Dashing across the plains on a cow pony, pursued by made-up Indians and all that regular sort of stuff must seem mighty tame to him after moving through the air at the rate of possibly a hundred and fifty miles an hour with the motor and propeller keeping up a constant roaring sound and all with the consciousness that he was several miles above the earth, amidst floating fleecy clouds, with even the high-flying eagle far, far beneath.
Jack took special pains to give the ambitious comrade such a ride as he could never have imagined, even in his wildest dreams—he put the new boat through all manner of ordinary stunts, even turning over so that they kept going ahead at a fair pace while flying upside-down—he went through dizzy revolutions, banked sharply and carried on generally as skillful pilots seem to take great delight in doing.
All this never seemed to bother Cyclone a particle—perhaps his experience as a cowboy may have assisted him to meet the numerous thrills without quailing.
Of course he could not talk with either of his friends for hearing was next to impossible since Jack was not making use of the silencer that had been made a part of the “furniture” of the new ship—but he nodded his head joyfully whenever he found Perk watching him with a question in his eye.