“Boy,” exclaimed Craig, “has Cdr. Norton a telephone?”
“No, sir, only that hangar at the end has a telephone.”
“Well, you run across that field as fast as your legs can carry you and tell him if he values his life not to do it.”
“Not to do what, sir?”
“Don't stand there, youngster. Run! Tell him not to fly with that gyroscope. There's a five-spot in it if you get over there before he starts.”
Even as he spoke the Norton aeroplane was wheeled out again. In a minute Norton had climbed up into his seat and was testing the levers.
Would the boy reach him in time? He was half across the field, waving his arms like mad. But apparently Norton and his men were too engrossed in their machine to pay attention.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Craig. “He's going to try it. Run, boy, run!” he cried, although the boy was now far out of hearing.
Across the field we could hear now the quick staccato chug-chug of the engine. Slowly Norton's aeroplane, this time really equipped with the gyroscope, rose from the field and circled over toward us. Craig frantically signalled to him to come down, but of course Norton could not have seen him in the crowd. As for the crowd, they looked askance at Kennedy, as if he had taken leave of his senses.
I heard the wireless operator cursing the way his receiver was acting.