Linda put Amy into the autogiro, and started her motor. How smoothly it was running! Yesterday’s work was worthwhile.
“Good-by, everybody! See you all in Milwaukee!” she called. They had been given instructions to fly to the airport in that city, and there to ask for directions.
Ralph took off a few minutes later, not quite so gracefully as Linda, but nevertheless without any mishaps.
Fifteen minutes later they waved to each other as they came down along the shore of the lake, a short distance from each other, to wait for ten o’clock to arrive.
“Are you going straight across the lake?” Ralph asked Linda.
“No,” she replied. “If I fly southwest, I can reach Milwaukee a lot faster. If we went directly across the lake from here, we’d have over thirty miles to fly down the western shore of Lake Michigan.”
The young man looked dubious.
“I guess I’m a fool, but I believe I’ll take the longer route. I’m kind of afraid of that lake. I’d hate to have to swim it.”
Linda smiled, but not in contempt. She admired him all the more for his cautiousness in handling his new autogiro.
They waited together until two minutes of ten, then, with a handclasp and a mutual expression of hope for good luck, they walked back to their machines and gave them the gun.