“Mrs. Leighton,” answered Roy, “you can’t make an aviator—he’s born. That is, you can’t educate away fear. I am scared sometimes, but it’s from the engine behind my back, never because of the height at which I’m working. But I wish they’d put an engine where you could watch it. A hundred feet up or three thousand, it’s all the same to me. The engine is what I’m afraid of. But here’s one I’m less afraid of than any I ever saw.”
The short winter day was coming to an end, but the sun was yet above the horizon. The breeze had dropped a little. Andy turned suddenly from his examination of the motor and whispered to Roy. The latter smiled and nodded his head.
“Mother,” said Andy, “Mr. Osborne won’t be here long. I’m going up with him.”
“I—” began Mrs. Leighton. “Are you sure it’s safe, Mr. Osborne?”
“We can never be sure of that,” answered Roy. “But I’d rather trust myself in an aeroplane than on a motorcycle.”
“What if your engine stopped?” suggested the disturbed woman.
“It stopped just now. Or, I stopped it,” added Roy. “I can’t go up without the engine, but I can come down without it.”
“Well—” began Mrs. Leighton.
“Can you hold her alone, Captain Anderson?” shouted Andy joyously, knowing that consent had been given.
“I can hold her until she pulls away,” responded the captain soberly, “and when she does that, I guess she’ll be pullin’ some.”