Kiwi marveled at this performance. Never had he seen a plane stay in a vertical dive so long and come out of it unharmed. And this flyer seemed to get so much satisfaction from the maneuver and repeated it so many times that Kiwi finally inquired who he was.
Thorne told him that the pilot was one of the best of the early American flyers, who had been well known for this particular maneuver—and even here he was famous for it.
They watched him as he at last tired of flying and came down to rest on a solid-looking cloud above their heads. He got out of his machine, waved to those far below, and stretched out on the soft surface of the cloud for a nap.
Back home this would have astonished Kiwi, but here he was becoming accustomed to such things and did not consider it at all queer. Here he was seeing all sorts of strange things which interested him but had ceased to bewilder him.
Later on he was to see workshops everywhere, in which inventors were puzzling and studying over machines that in the other world they had had no time to develop.
One young fellow provided a great deal of quiet amusement for the others by exhibiting a large bump on the back of his head, which he proudly said was developing into a third eye.
Thorne explained to Kiwi that here was another of those war flyers who had been struck with the idea during the war that an additional eye in the back of one’s head was absolutely necessary for a flyer; that he had concentrated all his thought upon it, and that here he felt he would surely grow one.
Kiwi now became restless and got up to stretch his legs.
Armbruster rose too and said:
“Kiwi, let’s get on with the flying.”