Like a big ungainly bird it ran rapidly over the ground for a few dozen yards and then as it gathered speed under its rapidly revolving propellers, Frank threw in the top speed clutch and jerked back the lever that controlled the rising planes. Like a perfectly trained animal the big air-craft obeyed and rose as gracefully as a butterfly into the air. For fully ten minutes, till they were clear of the tree-tops, Frank kept her rising—the terrified Quatty rolling about on the inclined floor of the pilot-house like a rubber ball. Then as she soared safely above all obstructions he threw her onto an even keel and headed her due east.
Far below them Harry, leaning over the stern, could see the small clearing in which stood the dead sailor’s habitation and the rapidly diminishing figures of Lathrop, Billy, Ben, and Pork Chops waving a frantic adieu. The darky had in his hand a frying-pan which he flourished and was evidently shouting, for he had his hand at his lips, but of course anything he might have said was at that height inaudible.
Once on an even keel Frank threw in the mufflers and throttled the engine down a little so that the uproar that had so terrified Quatty was diminished. Occasionally as she struck some contrary air-current the aeroplane would give a dip that terrified the negro into fresh convulsions, but otherwise the really alarming sensation that accompanies the rising into the upper air of an aeroplane had ceased and they were driving ahead calmly enough, though not fast, for there was a stiff northeast wind blowing.
“Well, Quatty, what do you think of it as far as you’ve gone?” jestingly asked Harry as, having adjusted his engines to suit him he sat wiping his hands on a bit of greasy waste.
“Ah’s jes’ as soon ride on a buckin’ broncho as on dis yar contraption,” rejoined Quatty, who had by this time scrambled to his hands and knees, “it’s eben worser dan I thought.”
A diplomatic idea entered Harry’s head. They would have to get Quatty over his scare before he would be of any use to them and this necessity gave rise to Harry’s inspiration.
“Well, I think you are a very brave man, Quatty,” he said solemnly; “that Pork Chops is such a coward that he wouldn’t dare to do what you’ve done.”
The Boy Aviators set out in the Golden Eagle II.
“Is dat so, Massa Harry, fo’ a fac’?” asked Quatty eagerly.