C. M. Billings. Ex-Sergeant R. A. F.”
To say that the Skipper was pleased, is putting it much too mildly. Of course he remembered Billings. Billings had been with his squadron during all his flying days in France. Billings had been the last man he had seen as he left the ground each day, and the first man to greet him as he landed and taxied up to an open space in front of the old Squadron hangars.
“Engine all right, sir?” Billings would ask, even before the Skipper had swung his cramped legs out of the plane.
Billings’ personal interest in those engines had been almost motherly. Once, returning from a trip to the “lines,” the Skipper had been caught in an almost tropical downpour of rain, which made it necessary for him to land and spend the night at an airdrome about thirty miles away from his own. When he did get back to his own field, Billings had seemed about to take the whole engine apart just to make sure that it had not been mistreated while away.
Here, surely, was the sort of loyalty that would be needed in their new adventure. Therefore the Skipper lost no time in wiring East to make sure that Billings would come with the engine and help them off to their goal.
Of Cosgrave, both Jack and the Skipper knew very little. He had been recommended by the people who had built the plane, and had seemed to go about his work willingly and to do it well. He had apparently obeyed all their orders, and was ready to help at all times. He had even offered to bring over a cot and sleep in the hangar so as to “keep an eye on the plane.” This he had done, and was always there early and late.
Jack had said to the Skipper one night, “I like Cosgrave all right, but I can’t say as much for some of his friends.”
The Skipper had thought little about this until the accident with the wheel. Then he began to wonder if Cosgrave were on the level or if there were something underhanded going on. The whole thing might bear a little watching. But surely no one could have any object in stopping their flight. True, there were others who would like to get the prize money and the prestige it would bring.
Another group of men with a plane almost as good as the Skipper’s were at a nearby field, and were getting a good deal of publicity. Every day the papers carried new stories about their plane. However, the gossip heard around the hangars told of quarrels and dissensions between the pilots and their powerful backers. Lawyers had been busy drawing up contracts and counter-contracts. It seemed hardly possible to the Skipper that their activities would carry them so far as definitely to try to interfere with him and Jack.
He dismissed the whole thing from his mind, and with his usual energy began to put the plane into shape with as little delay as possible. His confidence in his stream-lining idea for the wheels was unshaken. However, the few minutes they had been in the air had given them no check on their speed.