Hails and cheers rang out in every direction. There was hearty applause as Ben and Bob, the youngest aviators in the contest, took their places in the Dart. Ben tried the levers and the other various parts of the machine.
“She works like a watch,” he declared to his companion.
“Ready,” was Bob’s reply, his eye on the judge’s stand.
Boom!—flared forth the signal gun, followed by a general chorus, uttered in the word so thrilling to the heart of the enthusiastic aviator:
“Go!”
Lifted from earth on a superb sweep, true to its name, the Dart arose on a splendid arrow course. There was a fascinating spiral whirl as the graceful aeroplane struck an upper air current. Then, fondly, longingly viewed by the old aviator and his friends, the Dart diminished, became a mere speck, and faded away in the far distance.
CHAPTER XX
CRUSOES OF THE AIR
“It’s business now,” said Bob Dallow, between his teeth.
“And guesswork,” added Ben. “Hit or miss, though, we’ve got to make land. The tank register is at the exhaust line. Where do you suppose we are, Bob?”