“Guess we’re going to get on.” And Maben grinned back.
CHAPTER VI
ON THE WING
Hal Dane’s blond head was in a whirl. In sixty brief minutes Maben had tried to cram into his cranium all the vast maze of desperately important facts that one needs must master prior to stunting and parachuting.
They were up in the air now, zooming over the city. Young Dane had on his first real flying suit. He leaned back awkwardly against the pack of his parachute. He had never had on one of the things before. There was something else new, the speaking tube with earpieces that fitted up under the helmet. Maben was talking through it now.
“City looks pretty down there—trees and houses all flattened out like pictures on a rug. I’ll circle you over the Fairgrounds next, so you can see the clear space you’re to come down in. Got a mob to watch us, ain’t we?”
Hal felt grateful to Maben. He knew all this kindly rambling talk was indulged in to keep a raw new amateur stunter’s mind off the coming crisis.
Above them the sky was bright and beautiful; scarcely a cloud flecked it. Below them little black dots milled around in every direction. That would be the crowd swarming out to enjoy the vicarious thrill of seeing someone else in the air. There were tiny waving threads that must be flags, and a decorated stand where a band was probably blaring.
“Feel your strap—good and tight—for sure?” Maben’s voice rumbled to him. “Got to do my part of the stunting now.”
There came a sudden change in the behavior of the plane. Instead of straight flying, Maben began to put it through an intricate series of stunts. He went into nose spins, tail spins, falling leaves, and loop the loops. It was a breath-taking exhibit, at times seemingly reckless beyond all warrant. Yet there was never a slip nor careen to the ship. For perhaps half an hour this continued, then the plane straightened out in a long graceful glide.
“Your time next, kid,” muttered Maben, “and for Scott’s sake, hold on and be careful. Don’t try to give ’em too much for their money.”