“I must be going blind!” was his exclamation; “I came near passing this spot without seeing it and never noticed that house.”
But the young man was hardly just to himself. In his concentration of attention upon a landing place, he had given heed to nothing else, and the descent engaged his utmost care until it was finished. It was different with his companion, who had more freedom of vision. Moreover, the primitive structure which the aviator now saw for the first time was so enclosed by trees that it was hardly noticeable from above.
No fence was visible, but a small, tumble-down porch was in front of the broad door, which was open and showed a short, dumpy woman, slovenly dressed and filling all of the space except that which was above her head, because of her short stature. Her husband, scrawny, stoop-shouldered, without coat, waistcoat or necktie, wearing a straw hat whose rim pointed straight upward at the back and almost straight downward in front, with a yellow tuft of whiskers on his receding chin, and a set of big projecting teeth, was slouching toward the two young men, as if impelled by a curiosity natural in the circumstances. The thumb of each hand was thrust behind a suspender button in front, and it was evident that he felt some distrust until Harvey Hamilton’s genial “Good afternoon!” greeted him. His trousers were tucked in the tops of his thick boots, which now moved a little faster, but came to a stop several paces off, as if the owner was still timid.
“How’r you?” he asked with a nod, in response to Harvey’s salutation; “what sort of thing might you be calling that? Is it an aeroplane?”
“That’s its name; you have heard of them.”
“I’ve read about them in the newspapers and studied pictures of the blamed things, but yours is the first one I ever laid eyes on.”
Despite the uncouth manner of the man, it was evident that he possessed considerable intelligence. He stepped closer and made inquiries about the machine, its different parts and their functions, and finally remarked:
“It’s coming, sure.”
“What do you refer to?” asked Harvey.
“The day when those things will be as common as automobiles and bicycles. If I don’t peg out in the next ten years, I expect to own one myself.”