“Gas, of course, you can have all you want. Here you—” He shouted directions, and a mechanic came on the run. The task of re-fueling was accomplished with efficiency, but the boys had to shake hands with a lot of relieved pilots who were grateful that one of their number was not lying wrecked and helpless miles away. Finally they permitted the buddies to go, and this time Bob was beside his brother.
“Want me to pilot, old man?” he offered.
“Did you get any sleep back there?” Jim demanded.
“No, I watched the duplicate controls. Thought you might need help.”
“Then you sit beside me and take a nap now. If I get so my eyes won’t stay open. I’ll wake you up and let you do the work,” Jim promised.
“So long, Buddies,” Mason shouted, just as the throttle was opened. Bob waved his hand, and Jim nodded. Taking off on the drome was simple, and in a moment Her Highness, no longer loaded to the hilt, leaped into the air.
“Great old girl,” Jim exclaimed proudly, and the plane responded eagerly. The course was set, and while they went, roaring back toward the northern part of Vermont, Bob’s head nodded and finally dropped forward as sleep overtook him. Jim grinned affectionately at the young fellow and made up his mind that he wouldn’t disturb that rest if he could possibly help it.
The trip home was uneventful but Jim did have to blink hard several times to keep his eyes open. However, he managed it, but the first streaks of dawn were softening the sky before the Fenton Cove met his tired vision. With a whistle of relief that at last it was over, he glided down toward the carriage house, and as the plane shot forward, he heard the house door open quickly.
“Is that you, boys?” Mrs. Fenton’s tone was distressed. Then Bob woke up, blinked, and stared.
“Thunder and Mars, why didn’t you let me do part of it?” he demanded.