Morey, elated over the great privilege granted him, lost no time in taking advantage of it. While Mr. Wright, Lieutenant Purcell and the experienced workmen who were to assist in launching the aeroplane were hurrying the last preparations, he crowded close to the craft. It was beautiful in its fragile symmetry and Morey hung over it as an artist might examine a picture. An attendant was pouring in gasoline and Mr. Wright was intently watching him when a middle-aged military man entered the shed.
“Everything all right?” he exclaimed in a full deep voice.
“So far as we know,” answered Mr. Wright, smiling. “But that is what we never know exactly. If I had a guarantee that it was, I wouldn’t hesitate to go up a thousand feet.”
As he said this he shook hands with the new arrival. Lieutenant Purcell promptly saluted and exclaimed: “Major Squiers.”
Morey took another look. This, then, was the head of the U. S. Signal Corps—the army authority on ballooning and air navigation. Morey knew that he was looking at the best posted man in the country on the subject that so appealed to him, and he wondered if he might get the opportunity to lay his father’s plans before such an authority.
“Looks like a fine afternoon for the trial,” went on the visitor. “The President is ready. You can go when you like. I wish you luck.”
Just then his eye fell on Morey and he frowned.
“He’s all right,” remarked Mr. Wright. “That’s our new assistant—he isn’t in the way.”
“Well,” said the Major—his frown relaxing—“you must look out for strangers.”
“I’ll answer for this young man,” spoke up Lieutenant Purcell. At the same time he stepped to his superior and spoke in a low voice.