At last the wings were firmly bolted on, and fixed in position with set screws. In addition, piano wires leading to eyelets in the frame of the sled, and which acted as wing-braces, were utilized. When this was complete, each wing was as rigid as steel, presenting a slightly curved surface toward the front. They were, in fact, closely modeled on the wings Paul’s observant eyes had noted on the army airship.
“Now, then, who is to have the honor of the first flight on the greatest invention of the age?”
Rob laughed as he gazed about him.
“Don’t all speak at once,” said Merritt.
“Any one can have my turn,” ejaculated Tubby, with deep conviction.
“Why, I’m to be the first to try it, of course,” spoke up Paul, boldly. “I’m lightest, and anyhow, an inventor ought not to risk anybody’s bones but his own on his freak ideas.”
“Suppose we take it half way down the hill for a starter,” suggested Rob, “then we can see if it’s going to work or tip over, without running such a risk of a smash-up.”
Accordingly, the contrivance, looking like a queer bird in the moonlight, was shoved down the hill to a post about a quarter of a mile from the bottom.
Paul seated his slight frame upon the craft, bracing his feet against two projecting iron rests and taking a firm grip of the steering wheel.
“All right?” asked Rob, as the others stood behind, holding detaining hands upon the vehicle.