Both Hal and Chester laughed.
“I was that way myself once,” said Chester, “so I know just how you feel. Many a man, otherwise very brave, has that same horror of height. However, you will soon get used to it.”
“Maybe so,” said Alexis dubiously. “However, if one man can fly, why, so can I. I am willing to take a chance.”
“Good!” exclaimed Hal. “Now to get started.”
Leaving Lodz, the three had made their way north, keeping as close to the German border as was safe, until they had reached Riga, on the Gulf of Riga, which extends in from the Baltic Sea. Here they had at first thought of going part of the distance by boat, but, because of the likelihood of the approach of German warships in the Baltic, had given up this plan and decided upon an aëroplane.
“We came to Russia in an airship,” Hal had said. “We might as well go back in one. Besides, it is quicker.”
And so it was agreed.
Ten miles south of Riga, surrounded by Russian airmen, they climbed into the craft which the Russian commander in the little city had provided for them. The plane was large and roomy, having a seating capacity of five.
Hal took his place at the steering wheel and Chester climbed aboard.
Still eyeing the flying craft suspiciously, Alexis followed Chester, and, sitting down suddenly, took hold of the seat with both hands and hung on for dear life, although the craft was still upon the ground. Then he lowered his head and shut his eyes.