“That’ll do,” said Roy. “Climb aboard.”
Three minutes later, Andy Leighton rose from the ground in his first aeroplane flight—but not the last by any means.
[CHAPTER XIII]
BA, THE BAHAMAN, TALKS AT LAST
“The first thing I discovered,” said Andy, when his flight was over, “was that it isn’t half as scary as it looks. When I’ve watched aviators and seen the planes dip, it always seemed I’d feel as if it was sure goin’ to turn over. But you don’t.”
“It’s because you are moving with the machine,” explained Roy. “A grade don’t seem as steep when you are on it.”
“I couldn’t get up even a thrill,” declared Andy. “I supposed I’d hang on—I didn’t. Why, Roy even let me look after the engine.”
“When I began flying,” said Roy, “I went up alone. It was a foolish thing to do. After that, when I was really learning, I had to follow Mr. Atkinson’s first rule for new men—if they flew lower than six feet or higher than twenty-five, he made them descend. Follow that rule, and you’ll learn all you can find out by going up higher.”
It was agreed that nothing more should be done that day. The aeroplane was wheeled over near the boathouse and the engine was covered with a tarpaulin. There would be no risk in leaving it thus exposed, but Captain Anderson said Ba would likely show up, as it was Saturday night. The colored man was to act as watchman.