"Right-o," agreed the young man.
They walked across the field and were shown a model by an enthusiastic salesman. As the reporter had said, it did look like a flying bug, with its odd wind-mill-like rotor on top, and its small stub-like wings, which were there mainly to mount the lateral controls or ailerons.
"It isn't so pretty as the Arrow," remarked Louise.
"Handsome is as handsome does," returned Linda. "If we'd had an autogiro that time in Canada, when our gas leaked out, a forced landing wouldn't have been disastrous."
"Why?"
"Because the rotor takes care of that, after the engine is dead," explained Linda. "An autogiro can come down vertically at a slower rate than we did with our parachutes."
"I'll never forget how scared I was that time we jumped off," remarked her companion. "You know, it's one thing to see other people do it—in the air, or at the movies—and its something else to step off into space yourself. That all-gone feeling!"
"I don't mind it any more now—it doesn't seem any worse than dropping ten stories in an elevator. But I know what you mean."
"Well, I have never had to jump since," Louise informed her. "But," she continued as they walked around the autogiro, "isn't there really any danger of crashing?"