“Oh, I expect to have a high old time, Jack—three thousand feet of it, in fact. And my nerves seem to be as steady as ever.”
“You’re a lucky boy, all right, to get this chance to try for altitude after being in the harness at the aviation field for only two months.”
“But my instructor tells me I was born for the life of a birdman, Jack.”
“I know you’ve talked, read, and dreamed of little else these two years back. And now, Tom, at last the germ has caught me almost as fiercely in its grip.”
“Yes, old boy, it means the pair of us working tooth and nail now, learning to fly, so when the time comes, we can take our places for Uncle Sam in the great game. And it isn’t going to be so very far off now, with that fearful war raging across the sea.”
“Well, look out for yourself, Tom. I’m going to keep you in focus with my binoculars every minute of the time. Whenever you take a dip my heart will jump right up into my throat, I know. Lieutenant Carson gave you a limit, of course?”
“I’m to keep one eye on my recording barometer, and when it registers a full three thousand feet in height I’m to commence to volplane down. And my instructor is a man whose orders you’ve got to obey to the letter.”
“No trouble for you to do the trick, Tom, because you come of a family of inventors and dabblers in mechanics. It’s different with me, for I have to pound things into this dull head of mine. I’ll wait around till you drop down again.”
“Wish you would, Jack, for I’ve got something to tell you; news that has been giving me something to worry about.”
“I knew that letter you had must have contained bad news, Tom; and I’ve been waiting to hear you say something about it. There! Lieutenant Carson is waving his hand for you to get a move on. I envy you, that’s a fact. So-long, Tom.”