“Makes me think of those days over in Belgium and France, eh, Rob?” remarked Tubby Hopkins, “where we saw German and French and British and Belgian fliers; yes, and even a big Zeppelin that was meaning to bombard some city.”
“Well,” Andy told them, “here we are on the field, and like as not we’ll find our aviation mad chum over in that crowd around the machines on the ground, where the starts are made.”
“I rather think those must be the various models of new machines,” observed Rob, and immediately adding, “There’s Hiram now; he’s sighted us, and is heading this way.”
“Yes, with a grin as big as a house on his face,” asserted Tubby; “which I take it must mean he’s struck something that tickles him just fierce.”
Hiram joined his three comrades a minute later.
“Well,” he said, in a mysterious fashion, addressing himself particularly to Rob, “the Golden Gate Aëroplane Manufacturing Company has a contraption on one of their machines, intended to equalize shifting weights; but shucks! it isn’t in the same class with my dandy little stabilizer. I guess they mean business in my case, with a big B.”
CHAPTER XV.
TUBBY IS OUT OF HIS ELEMENT.
If there had arisen any doubt in Hiram’s mind as to the deep interest those chums were taking in his enterprise, it must have been quickly dispelled when he made this announcement, and saw the looks of delight spreading over their faces.
“Bully!” cried Andy.
“Best wishes, Hiram!” added Tubby, genially, as he patted the other fondly on the shoulder.