“This,” thought Fatty to himself, “this is life.”
A half hour passed, and without warning the plane commenced to buck. Hop, hop, hop, it went through the air, and the color faded from Fatty’s apple cheeks. Then there was a stretch of smooth going, and Fatty relaxed, but soon the plane was hopping again.
“What makes her do like that?” said Fatty in Eddie’s ear.
“Rough air currents, I suppose,” said Eddie. “Great, isn’t it?”
“I like it better smooth,” said Fatty and added, “You can see the scenery so much better.”
“Yeh, those mountain ranges over there, and the bridge we just crossed.”
“You know what I mean,” said Fatty. “All the clouds and things.”
Higher and higher they flew. Then the plane commenced to tip, first one wing and then the other lifting and dipping, the ailerons clapping as Ernest changed them. Next, nose pointing straight up, Ernest climbed and climbed into the very realm of the sun.
“What makes him do that?” asked Fatty anxiously.
“To get out of the air currents,” explained Eddie.