Andy aloft, had eye, nerve and breath strained to test the splendid device to its complete capacity. He was himself amazed at the beauty the utility of the dainty creation just turned out from the workshop. What the Airship King had taught him Andy had not forgotten. After five minutes spent in exploiting every angle of skill he possessed, Andy brought the superb aeroplane down to the ground, graceful as a swan. John Parks ran up to him, chuckling with delight.
“You wonder! you daisy!” he roared, shaking Andy’s hand with his well arm.
Andy was flushed with triumph and excitement.
“If there’s any wonder to talk about,” he said, “it’s that glorious piece of work, the Racing Star, and the splendid man who made it.”
Morse smiled, a rare thing for him. Then he said modestly:
“It will do the work, handled as you manage it, Andy.”
“I feel like a caged lion, or an eagle with its wings clipped!” stormed Parks, with a glance at his bandaged arm. “Why did I go trying to show a bungling amateur how to run an old wreck of a monoplane, and get my arm broken for my pains, and lose that five-thousand-dollar prize!”
“There is time to enter a substitute, Mr. Parks,” suggested the inventor.
“Who?” demanded the aeronaut scornfully. “Some amateur who will sell me out or bungle the race, and maybe smash up my last thousand dollars?”
“Mr. Parks,” said Andy, in a quick breath, and colored up and paused suddenly. “I’d be glad to try it. Say the word, and I’ll train day and night for the race.”