A sudden thought came to Captain Cornell, and leaning out he shouted through cupped hands in order to make himself heard above the roar of the warming motor:
“I’ll look up Ramirez’s record in Laredo and give you a call on the radio if I learn anything.”
Jack shook his head. He couldn’t hear. Captain Cornell throttled down and repeated his words.
“All right,” shouted Jack. “And if I can be of any help, call on me. And, say, Captain,” he added as an afterthought, “I’ll be dropping in on you at Laredo one of these days. Dad and I want to see a bull fight. Maybe you’ll take us over into the Mexican town.”
“Surest thing you know,” the flyer called. “Come on a Sunday.”
Then with the battery charging and the motor firing sweetly, he threw off one switch of the double-ignition system in order to listen for breaks in the twelve-cylinder Liberty. The same operation on the other. Both running true. A wave of the hand, in farewell, and he eased the throttle on. Slowly the tachometer climbed up the scale, showing increasing revolutions.
The flyer nodded to Tom and Jack at the wings. They disappeared and then popped out, dragging the wheel blocks. Tom’s assistant stepped away from the tail. Then the big ship started forward easily, smoothly, and within thirty yards the tail-skid left the ground. Motor roaring without a break, the De Haviland ran a bit farther, then took the air. Driving along a little above the ground, it shot upward. Then a right bank and the flyer circled the field, making sure his great plane was running true before letting her out for Laredo. Twice around the field, and then away shot the ship.
“Some bus,” said Jack.
None of the little group had said a word up to then.
“Lot more trouble to work her than your little racer, Jack,” said Tom Bodine with the freedom born of years of friendship.