"Are you game?" asked Dick, grimly.
"Sure!"
"What about it, Tom? Don't go if you don't think it is best."
"We'll try it. Dick. But if you spill us out—well, please choose a soft spot, that's all!" went on Tom, who had to have his joke, even in such a time of peril.
To take that trip, with such a wind blowing, was not a wise move, and all three of the Rovers knew it. But they wanted so much to see the girls, and show them the biplane, that they were willing to take the risk.
On and on sailed the Dartaway, now in the teeth of the breeze and then with the wind on the quarter. All of the youths clung fast constantly, for their was great danger of being pitched into space. They had straps for fastening themselves, but hated to use these, fearing that they might get in some position where a quick jump might mean safety. If they were strapped in, and the biplane fell, they might be crushed to death under the heavy engine.
Most of the trip was made in the face of the wind, which, every instant, seemed to grow stronger. The Dartaway acted like a thing of life, swooping and careening from one side to the other. Dick had to manipulate the wheel and the levers constantly, to keep anything like an even "keel."
"Can you keep to the course?" questioned Tom, after about half the distance to the seminary had been covered.
"I don't know—it depends on the wind," Dick replied. "I may go around to the westward—it seems to be better sailing that way."
In the end they had to make a wide detour, and Dick was wondering how he was going to turn in the direction of Hope Seminary, when the wind suddenly died down. This was his chance, and on the instant he headed directly for the seminary.