“You’re not much of a load, but I guess you can go,” spoke Jerry. “Well, I guess we can now call ourselves balloonists, aeroplanists or whatever is the proper title. We’ve made our first flight.”
“And it won’t be the last,” added Ned. “This is better than any of the machines did at the Broadlands exhibition.”
“I told you I could build a better ship than any they had there,” remarked Mr. Glassford quietly. “Well, boys, suppose we get right to work on the new propellers.”
They lost no time, and having the material on hand were able in two days to fit them to the shafts. The broken chain was mended, and the motor ship Comet was ready for another flight. No announcement was made of it, as they wished to avoid attracting a crowd, but the news spread in some manner—perhaps Andy Rush couldn’t keep quiet about his part in it—and there was quite a gathering when once more the big machine shot toward the sky.
“This is—this is glorious!” cried Andy as he sat in the little cabin with the boys and watched the earth dropping away from beneath them.
“Now don’t get excited and talk fast, or you might heat a journal bearing and set fire to the gas in the bag,” cautioned Jerry. “You have to be careful aboard a motor ship, Andy.”
“I will. But this is certainly great!”
Mr. Glassford now started the motor from the pilot tower where he was, and the Comet shot forward. It certainly went faster and better with the large propellers, and made fine progress against rather a stiff breeze. The ship was under perfect control, and Mr. Glassford was able to direct it up or down, to right or left, or around in big circles as suited his fancy.
“Marvelous! marvelous!” cried Professor Snodgrass. “It is wonderful what strides science is making these days. Now, if I could only see some of the rare insects which I know must live in the regions of the upper air I would be perfectly happy.”
“There’s some sort of a bug!” exclaimed Andy, pointing to a small black object sailing through the air. “Maybe that is a new kind.”