When Billy and Henri went to work among the ’planes, the apprentices under training by Lieutenant Hume looked like the oft-quoted thirty cents. One or two of them even looked daggers at the newcomers.
At the end of the first day of the boys’ service test, the lieutenant said to himself:
“Carl has stumbled against the real thing, for once, at least.”
CHAPTER XLII.
FOUGHT TO THE FINISH.
The boys awaited patiently an invitation from the lieutenant to exhibit their skill by upper-air exercise in one of the Taubes—the Germans called their military monoplanes doves—but that officer did not seem then inclined to favor one of the aviation field helpers above another.
A shock-headed boy, hailed as Max, who had been an ironworker in Bremen, showed a decided disposition to “pick upon” Henri and Billy in their daily occupation of valeting the aircraft.
He was nursing a jealous spirit, aroused by a chance word of praise bestowed upon our Aviator Boys by Lieutenant Hume, and tried to enlist the sympathy of the other employees of the hangars in common cause against the “fancy fellows,” as he persisted in calling the newcomers. But as a rule they were a good-natured lot, and not inclined to worry about anything except a food shortage at meal time.
Max, before our boys had arrived, had claimed rank as first among those serving the more noted aviators, who were constantly coming and going.
The climax of wrath with Max came when Ingold, the great aviator, starting for the war zone, dispensed with his clumsy services and accepted those of Billy and Henri in overhauling a double-decker, or biplane, that was to be used in active military movement.