“It is not attached to-day,” explained the officer. “The main object of the device is to steady the plane when the operator desires to launch an explosive from his seat. He naturally has to shift, and the equalizer is to take up that shifting motion and distribute it.”
“I see,” nodded Tubby sagaciously, although it is doubtful if the fat boy did.
“Then you are going to practice dropping explosives?” asked Rob.
The officer’s face took on a queer expression.
“I guess we’ll have to call that an army secret, my boy,” he said. “If all goes well, Hampton may become a famous place.”
With this mysterious utterance, the boys had to be content. Mulloy returned at this moment with the solder, and the lieutenant adjusted the weak spot as skilfully as a machinist.
“An aviator has to know how to do everything about his engine,” he explained; “supposing he should drop in a country without a machine shop in reaching distance, or in any enemy’s country, if he couldn’t make his own repairs, he would be in a bad fix.”
“Are all these men trained in that way?” inquired Rob.
Lieutenant Duvall nodded.
“Every one of them,” he said. “They are all from Fort Myer. So was that deserting rascal, Dugan. He was the most expert mechanic I ever saw. In fact, I have heard since his desertion that there was good reason for his skill. Under the name of Beasley, he was one of the best-known safe crackers in the country before he reformed and entered the army with an assumed name. He was a splendid workman, though.”