“Ask me about its parts and see whether I am not.”
“That isn’t what I mean; you got that information from the answers to my inquiries at the factory at Garden City, which I asked for your benefit. You must be as familiar with the aeroplane as with your pony which you have ridden for years and feel as much at home in your seat as if you had occupied it for months. It will take time to acquire that knowledge.”
“I am at home now,” replied Harvey, who could not help thinking his friend was over-cautious.
“Your danger is of having too much self-confidence. Remember and do exactly what I tell you to do and nothing else.”
The pupil assured his instructor of the strictest obedience.
“Very well.”
The Professor stepped to the rear, grasped a blade of the propeller and gave it a vigorous swing. That set the motor going with its deafening racket, but it was so throttled that the machine stood still for a minute or two, Sperbeck holding back all he could with one hand until the pressure became too great to resist. Then the aeroplane began moving forward, with fast increasing speed. When it had traveled a hundred yards, Harvey grasped the lever ready to point the front rudder upward upon receiving the order from the Professor. The noise of the motor would have drowned the loudest voice, and the youth kept glancing around for the expected signal. But it was not made. Instead, the Professor motioned with one hand for him to circle to the left. Harvey was disappointed but did not hesitate for an instant. He came lumbering and lurching over the sward, and, shutting off the motor, halted a few paces in front of his instructor, who had lighted a cigarette.
“It is best to cut grass for two or three days,” explained the teacher.
“It surely will not take that long,” replied Harvey in dismay.
“I trust not, but no ascent will be attempted to-day.”