“Mike’s tired of Bluff,” said Mr. Cook, sententiously. “He’s hittin’ the trail.”
By noon the rubberized-silk plane coverings were attached to the 32-foot wing-like surfaces—the fore plane, 3 feet 9 inches, and the rear one, 3 feet 10 inches deep. Then came the bracing of the front rims of these, which was accomplished with piano wires tightened over arms extending from the upright section frames. The rear of each wing surface, left free to move at the will of the operator, was then attached to the flexing wires, which ended in the controlling stirrups at the operator’s feet.
While Roy, assisted by Weston—who persisted in giving help—finished this work, blacksmith Hagerman carefully opened the engine crate. All were in ecstasies over the engine. It had been mounted on the aeroplane in the factory, and it was not a difficult job to readjust it. Chris., the horseshoer, was enough of a mechanic to be of material assistance. By ceaseless effort, the engine was in place, the arm holding the two propellers was attached, the shaft braces and the arm braces were bolted on and the propeller chain-gears rigged up by supper time.
Mr. Cook was anxious to see the engine tested. So, in the twilight, the cooling coils and gasoline tanks were quickly mounted and everything was ready.
“Will the engine go, now?” asked the anxious manager, as this work was done. The splash lubrication, feed and oil gauges were in place and Roy had just had the joy of putting the last touch on the magneto-ignition.
“Will she go!” he repeated.
Quickly adjusting his valves and gasoline supply, and testing the ignition, the proud but nervous boy gave one turn of the fly-wheel crank. With a buzz and a welcome “spit, spit” the four-cylinder motor slipped into a smooth whirr that was music to those who understood.
“Connect the fans,” suggested Mr. Cook, exuberantly, referring to the big propeller wheels.
“Not yet,” laughed Roy. “They’re all right. And now, sir,” he added, shutting off the engine and grabbing a piece of waste, “we’re ready for orders.”
“The first one,” answered the manager is, “all hands to supper.”