“Then why not something to fly like a bird or a bat?” said Vane eagerly.
“No; the power required to move the great flapping wings would be too weighty for it; and, besides, I always feel that there is a something in a bird or bat which enables it to make itself, bulk for bulk, the same weight as the atmosphere.”
“But that seems impossible,” said Vane.
“Seems, but it may not be so. Fifty years ago the man would have been laughed at who talked about sending a message to Australia and getting the answer back the same day, but we do not think much of it now. We would have thought of the Arabian Nights, and magicians, if a man had spoken to some one miles away, then listened to his tiny whisper answering back; but these telephonic communications are getting to be common business matters now. Why, Vane, when I was a little boy photography or light-writing was only being thought of: now people buy accurate likenesses of celebrities at a penny a piece on barrows in London streets.”
Vane nodded.
“To go back to the flying,” continued his companion, “I have thought and dreamed over it a great deal, but without result. I am satisfied, though, of one thing, and it is this, that some birds possess the power of gliding about in the air merely by the exercise of their will. I have watched great gulls floating along after a steamer at sea, by merely keeping their wings extended. At times they would give a slight flap or two, but not enough to affect their progress—it has appeared to me more to preserve their balance. And, again, in one of the great Alpine passes, I have watched the Swiss eagle—the Lammergeyer—rise from low down and begin sailing round and round, hardly beating with his wings, but always rising higher and higher in a vast spiral, till he was above the mountain-tops which walled in the sides of the valley. Then I have seen him sail right away. There is something more in nature connected with flight, which we have not yet discovered. I will not say that we never shall, for science is making mighty strides. There,” he added, merrily, “end of the lecture. Let’s go out in the open air.”
Vane sighed.
“I came from London, my boy, where all the air seems to be second-hand. Out here on this slope of the wolds, the breeze gives one life and strength. Take me for a walk, out in the woods, say, it will do me good, and make me forget the worries and cares of life.”
“Are you inventing something?”
Mr Deering gave the lad a sharp look, and nodded his head.