That evening, Bob and Gabe worked until the sun was low, clearing out the storeroom and leveling all the inequalities on the slope toward the river, for the aeroplane used no starting weights, requiring a smooth, level bit of ground of from seventy-five to one hundred yards to get under way.
Thursday morning, a dray was secured and after two trips the dismembered car, its carefully protected adjuncts and its oiled tarpaulin-covered motor crate were safely stowed in the storeroom. Gabe remaining in charge, Bob made another trip with the dray and purchased enough gasoline for a week’s flying. Two tanks of this, with a supply of engine oil, were intended for the scene of his coming work, while the remainder was set aside to be conveyed to Anclote Island on the Three Sisters. When the dray returned to the yards again, it also carried a cot for Gabe’s use and a hastily secured luncheon.
This disposed of, the great task was before the two boys. With screw driver, wrench and hammer, the crates were attacked.
Type No. 1 of the American Aeroplane Company’s air vehicle represented all the tested and approved heavier-than-air flying machine ideas. Nothing in it but what, in some form of aeroplane, had been successfully used.
“That’s why we selected the No. 1,” explained Bob to Gabe. “We’re all amateurs. When we’ve exhausted the possibilities of this machine, it will be time for us to take chances with the advanced types.”
“How fast’ll she go?” asked Gabe.
“’Bout forty miles in a pinch,” answered Bob.
“In a day?” continued Gabe.
“In an hour,” laughed Bob. “Maybe faster.”