Whir-r-r-r-r-r!
What a terrific din the aeroplane’s engine created, as the white-winged cloud skimmer stood outside the green shed! It was all the four soldiers, hanging on to her stern braces, could do to hold the struggling machine back. It appeared a thing instinct with life, eager and striving to get free and try its broad pinions against the blue.
The boys stood with round eyes and beating hearts, watching while Lieutenant Duvall tuned up the powerful one-hundred horse-power motor. A smell of burned lubricants filled the air. Clouds of oily, blue smoke rolled from the exhausts, which spat lambent flames viciously as the powerful motor vibrated.
To the soldiers standing about it was an old story, but to the boys everything was new and wonderful. As Lieutenant Duvall stopped the motor to adjust a spark plug connection, they pressed forward to examine the craft. Paul, as may be imagined, was as interested in the smallest wire and coupling as he was in the mighty engine or the broad white planes.
Suddenly the small boy gave an exclamation.
“Look here, sir!” he cried to the lieutenant.
The officer hastened to his side. Paul was examining one of the cross wires. The filament, made of the stoutest drawn steel, formed an important brace to the upper plane. The lad’s sharp eyes had detected that the soldering of its connection was almost worn through.
“Good for you, boy!” exclaimed the officer, as he saw the defect to which Paul had called attention. “That would have given me a bad tumble if you hadn’t noticed it. Here, Mulloy”—addressing one of the soldiers—“get me the soldering outfit. Quick, now!”
With soldierly alertness, the man was off on his errand. Lieutenant Duvall employed the time of his absence explaining the various details of the machine to the boys.
“How about the equalizer?” asked Rob.