“Oh, I guess they’ll take it,” answered the little lad who straightened up and wet a finger in his mouth.
“How is it?” asked Dick.
You might have thought he was inquiring how Teddy liked the taste of his finger. But anyone who has flown model airplanes could tell that Teddy was just testing the wind.
“It’s blowing almost directly east,” Teddy answered.
“Then Mason’s meadow will be the place to have the test,” suggested Dick. “There’s plenty of room there.”
“Yes,” Teddy agreed, “if we start on the far side—away from the woods. Can’t start in the middle of the meadow.”
“Why not?” asked Dick.
He did not glance up at his chum. Dick, who was short and rather stout, was twisting the propeller blades of his own toy plane. He was winding the rubber bands which, when they untwisted, would serve as the motor of the little craft. “Why can’t we begin the race in the middle of the meadow, Teddy? That’s the clearest place.”
“Well, if you want your plane to shoot over in the woods, and maybe get lost, let it go from the middle of Mason’s meadow,” said Teddy. He tested the rudders of his craft.
Dick, who had put the clamp on his rubber engine, looked up to laugh as he said: