He climbed into his seat and Ernest sat beside him, nursing his wounded arm. Tom and his helper, boiling with amazement and curiosity, held the machine and turned it to face the wind.
Bill gave his engine plenty of gas, the propellers whirled faster and faster, and when they reached top speed under Bill's accustomed hand, he gave the signal and the men let go. The plane bounded forward, skipping merrily over the field. Bill balanced on one wheel for a moment, then with a thrill of the heart such as he had never known tilted the elevating plane and felt himself rise in the air.
CHAPTER XIII
As the plane, responding perfectly to Bill's touch, soared upward, it seemed as though they were rising on gossamer wings out of a well of darkness and mists. They actually rose to greet the sun whose first rays were gilding the tops of the hills. They went up in the very face of the great orb whose light, first striking the upper wings, turned all the delicate wires and cords to gold. How they shone in the clear early sunlight! As the pace increased, Bill felt rather than heard the delicate humming of the wires. Over the roar of the engine he did not know whether he could distinguish a delicate sound or whether it was only a trick of his imagination, but he was so exalted and so thrilled by the wonderful experience through which he was passing that he seemed to hear all sorts of celestial sounds.
Fear fell from him. A new power was born in heart and brain. He felt as uplifted in soul as he was in body. Somehow he longed more than ever to be a good boy; to harbor good thoughts; to do good deeds. When he tried to think of Frank and his ugly black actions, he found that he regarded them through a haze as though they were a long ways away and of little consequence. All was going to be well. It was as though the darkness from which they had risen was a symbol. They were going up, up into the light! Bill knew as well as though some higher power had whispered it to him that there would be a good ending: he did not doubt his ability to do an almost unheard-of thing. His hand was as steady as though he had flown all his life. He was "exalted in spirit," because his goal was a worthy one. Without a question for their own safety, the boys had started on an enterprise filled with dangers, in order to save Lee from false imprisonment and possibly worse. Ernest knew the Indian nature better even than Bill. He knew how impossible it is for them to bear unmerited disgrace and how often they end that disgrace with a bullet or the swift thrust of a knife. He hoped that the white blood that dominated Bill's good friend was strong enough to overcome this trend, but nevertheless he felt that there was not a moment to be lost. So there he sat, only an observer in his well-beloved aeroplane, the broken arm throbbing with a blinding pain, while Bill—young Bill who had never been nearer to flying than the warping of a wing and the sailing on one wheel over the field—sat in the pilot's seat, grave and intent, and guided their swift flight.
But ah, who could tell the thoughts that all unbidden coursed through the mind of the culprit lying bound and muffled in the rear seat? So intently were the eyes of his spirit bent inward on the dark and whirling horrors they found there that the eyes of his body were blind to the wonders of the young day. He lay where they had placed him, staring blindly through his goggles straight up into the great dome above him.
The storm seemed to have washed the very air. It was clear as crystal. A few clouds, thin as gossamer, hung here and there, growing less as a steady breeze sprang up in the wake of the sun and gently dismissed them from the great blue bowl in which they lingered.
When they passed through these fairy clouds, they found them a soft golden mist shot through with rainbow colors. Then emerging, they passed once more into blue space, a space greater than Bill had ever imagined.