As the captain and the boy fell backward, the untested aeroplane darted forward. For a few yards, it bounded up and down, and then, as if gathering new force, shot straight over the smooth sand.
Once it seemed about to rise, and then, striking the beach again, the aviator seemed to lose control of the machine. The rushing aeroplane shot sideways, as if to dash into the shallow river. Again it sprang upward, and again darted toward the river. Just as the forward wheel touched the water, the great planes caught the breeze, poised themselves for an instant, and rose in the air like a fluttering duck. Twice its rear wheels touched the surface of the river, and then the spectators could see Roy shoot the bird-tail rudder shaft to the rear and the pinions fly upwards.
“He’s off!” shouted Andy.
“You bet he is!” shouted Captain Anderson just as vigorously. “She’s flyin’!”
On the sand, Andy raced back and forth, as if he had lost his senses. With a loud whoop of joy, he turned a handspring as the only relief for his bottled-up excitement.
Out over the river the Pelican flew a few hundred feet, and then, veering toward the beach, began to rise. Her propellers seemed to sound louder as she lifted herself. And southward, Roy held her, between two hundred and three hundred feet above the beach, for perhaps a half mile.
Then her operator began to mount higher. As he did so, he turned out over the water and brought the machine about toward the north, at least eight hundred feet above the water.
Andy ran to his mother and threw his arm around her.
“Watch it!” he cried. “Isn’t it a wonder?”
But his mother was too astounded to make a reply.