Harvey forced himself to smile, though he made a comical grimace.
“Put me through the paces; I’m bound to learn this business or break a trace.”
Several spectators had gathered on the edge of the field and were watching the actions of the two with the aeroplane. They would have come nearer had not Harvey warned them by a gesture not to do so. He did not mind their enjoying the sight, for they could do that when a little way off as well as if closer, but they were likely to get in his way, and hinder matters.
Again and again the biplane went awkwardly forward on its three small wheels with their rubber tires. The field contained ten or twelve acres, thus giving plenty of space for maneuvering. Once he came within a hair of running into the fence, because as it seemed to him the machine did not respond with its usual promptness, but he showed rapid improvement and the Professor complimented him on his success.
“I’m playing the part of a navigator of a prairie schooner,” said the youth, “though they are drawn by animals instead of being propelled by wind. I suppose, Professor, that before the summer is over you will let me try my wings?”
“That depends upon how well you get on with your first lessons.”
CHAPTER II.
BOHUNKUS JOHNSON.
Suddenly a shout came from the edge of the field, and a negro lad vaulted over the fence and ran toward the couple. As he drew near he called:
“Why didn’t yo’ tole me ’bout dis, Harv?”
“I did call at your house for you, but Mr. Hartley said you were asleep.”