“What ob dat? Why didn’t yo’ frow a brick fru de winder and woke me up? Gee! What hab yo’ been trying to do, Harv?”
The newcomer was about the same age as Harvey Hamilton, but taller, broader and larger every way. He was the “bound boy” of a neighbor and had been a playmate of the white youth from early childhood. He was as much interested in aviation as Harvey, and had been trying to build an air machine for himself, or rather helping his friend to construct one, but their failure was so discouraging that they gave it up. What was the sense of attempting such a task when Mr. Hamilton stepped in and bought one of the best of aeroplanes for his son?
Professor Sperbeck had met Bohunkus Johnson, being first attracted by his odd name and then by the willingness and good nature of the colored youth. Bunk, as he was generally called by his acquaintances, was much disappointed because he had not been present earlier, but no one was to blame except himself. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked about the aeroplane, which he had admired upon its arrival, inspecting and trying to understand its workings.
“Hab yo’ flowed?” he asked, abruptly halting and looking at Harvey who retained his seat.
“Not yet.”
“Why doan’ yo’ do so? What’s de use ob fooling round here?”
“Professor Sperbeck thinks I should learn more before leaving the ground. How would you like to try your hand?”
Bohunkus took off his cap and scratched his head.
“I guess I’ll watch yo’ frow flipflaps awhile.”
Harvey turned to the Professor, who shook his head.