Morey was already lost again in his intent examination of the airship. He had never seen anything that so interested him. The machines at Hammondsport were experimental and roughly finished. This white winged, complete car appealed to his enthusiasm and he was already in a land of dreams. If there had ever been any doubt about his ambition this meeting with the great wizard of the air and this close contact with his fairy-like creation would have decided Morey’s future. He determined to become an aviator and the owner of such a craft if it took years of effort.
In the midst of his close inspection of the waiting machine the boy started, looked again, and then turned to those in charge. The eager attendants had just taken their stands ready to shoulder the long spruce framework to carry it outside the house to the starting track.
“Mr. Wright,” whispered Morey, touching the great inventor on the arm, “look here. I think a link of your chain drive is bent.”
[Mr. Wright] and Lieutenant Purcell [sprang forward] together as Morey laid his finger on one of the little steel squares of the right hand link belt used to connect one of the propellers with the engine. One corner was bent sharply upward. The first examination showed that the steel link was cracked. Mr. Wright spoke under his breath as his helpers crowded about him and then ordered the doors closed. The next few moments were busy ones. Every one sprang to the task of repairing the damage. Mr. Wright with a wrench loosened the chain while others brought punches and a substitute link. When the defective bit of steel had been removed and a new link put in its place the perspiring inventor arose, wiped his forehead, and turned to those watching him. He had picked up the broken bit of metal. After looking at it intently and showing it to Lieutenant Purcell he turned to Morey.
“How did you happen to see that, my boy?”
“Oh, I just noticed it—I thought they ought to be perfect, all of them. So I looked ’em all over. I knew a bad one might dump you.”