Bob was the first to notice what was happening. “Look put!” he screamed. “Pat, look out!”
The student pilot suddenly saw Pat. He veered his plane, but a corner of the wing just grazed Pat’s head, and knocked him flat. He was already getting to his feet when the others got to him.
“Are you hurt, old fellow?”
Pat was rubbing his head. “No, I don’t think so. That is, no, I’m not at all. Just nicked me. I’ll be all right in a second.” He shook his head to clear it. “Gave me a bit of a bump. I’ll be all right.”
The student pilot, white and shaking, came over to them. “Hurt badly?” he asked anxiously.
Pat laughed. “No such luck, lad. You missed me that time. Better luck next time. You might try picking on somebody who’s not so tough, next time.”
Pat was himself again, and the others, thankful that he had not been seriously hurt, watched him go into the Administration Building. When he came out, Bill asked. “Do you want me to pilot?”
Pat looked scornful. “Since when did a little bump on the head put me out of commission? I’m driving the bus.”
All the baggage stowed away, the boys, the Captain and Pat got into the plane. They waved good bye to the others outside, the huge craft taxied over the field, turned into the wind and rose into the air. It was pleasant being off at last. There was the grand trip before them, and then the vacation itself, fishing, swimming, shooting. Hank had filled their heads full of the glories of his private mountain, as he called it. The cabin with its huge open fireplace built of stones, the bunks in two tiers like the berths on a pullman. Bob and Hal had already decided that they would have to take turns sleeping in the upper one, because surely the upper one would be the most fun.
Their thoughts kept returning to the cold mountain streams filled to the brim with scrappy fish, and the waterfall that Hank said he used as an outdoor shower. A whole month of it! The boys could hardly sit still on the leather cushions.