“No,” I objected, faced with the actual chance to put my wild talk into action. “I’m scared to.”
“Dare you to,” Frank taunted me. “Double-dare you to!”
Trembling with excitement, I crawled under the fuselage and up onto the axle strut. I don’t know to this day whether I really meant to stay there or not—for the choice was taken out of my hands. That very moment the pilot in his seat above me opened up the engine with a deafening roar, and the plane commenced rolling down the field. Taken by surprise, I clutched the axle tightly and by the time I had my wits collected again, we were moving along at an alarming speed.
Beneath me the ground was flowing away in a dusty gray stream. I wanted to drop off, but I could see the tail skid bumping along behind, and I was afraid I might not be able to roll out of its way. While I was mustering up the courage to chance it, the plane took the air, and when I looked down again, a hundred-foot gap had suddenly opened between me and the earth’s surface.
The plane banked over, tilting sharply; I slid down on the axle until I could feel the toe of my shoe scrape on one of the wheels, which were still spinning. I got hold of a wire and pulled myself back, clamping the strut between my legs like a vise. I felt dizzy and horribly frightened. Then the plane straightened out and sailed over the hangars, at a height now of several hundred feet, and I forgot my fears in the spectacle which spread itself out below me.
The ring of the horizon had widened magically. I could see all of San Antonio, with the river winding through it like a green watersnake, and the Plaza and the old Alamo in the center. I could see Kelly Field two miles away and Camp Travers and Fort Sam Houston. Directly beneath me the group of men we had just left was scattered, running about excitedly like ants stirred up with a stick. My escapade had been discovered. They were trying in vain to draw the attention of the pilots, who were, of course, quite ignorant of the fact that they had a stowaway on board. The white canvases used to signal from the ground to the air were being dragged out,—radio communication was undeveloped then,—but the flyers were so interested in the performance of their new ship that they never looked back.
Just as the plane banked again, I saw my brother legging it for home at top speed, but for the next few seconds I was too busy holding on to notice anything else. I discovered my arms were beginning to ache severely from the strain I was placing upon them.
The next time we passed above the field, the scurrying figures on the ground were so tiny it was hard to believe they were men. The hangars and barracks were about the size of a kid’s building-blocks. The countryside reminded me for all the world of a big relief-map I had to study in school one time.
Ever so often the map would tip itself gradually up on edge until it was steeper than the steepest mountainside and it seemed a wonder to me that the houses didn’t slide off. I knew the plane was banking in another turn then, and held on tighter than ever, waiting for the ground to change back into level prairie again. We were climbing higher all the time. Hot as it had been on the field, I grew chilly from the wind which whipped through my thin clothing like a hurricane.