Frank laughed.
“Why,” said he, “you seem to forget that it isn’t necessary any longer to depend on guesswork, when you’ve got that hunky little barograph almost under your nose. Suppose you just take a squint and inform me.”
“Sure, pop!” exclaimed Andy, radiantly. “I had just forgotten all about that new contrivance. Hey! what d’ye think Frank, we’re sailing along right now about seven hundred feet up. Phew! that’s going some for new beginners, eh?”
“It’s fine. I don’t think we’d better go any further just now, but drop down to within a couple of hundred, and see how the lake and the woods look up this way.”
“But before you begin to go down, Frank, I want you to take a squint over toward Old Thunder Top. Just notice, will you, that while we’re now up seven hundred, that summit is still higher—several hundred feet, I reckon.”
“Which shows how little that teacher knew,” Frank observed. “Why, we’ve been up to the foot of that big cliff many a time and if we’d only had this little business along we’d soon found out that it was close on a thousand there. Now sit close, for I’m going to spiral down a bit.”
They began to move around in circles in dropping, as the engine was throttled down. By now Frank had this little trick down to a science, though he refused to try and show off at any time and thus take unnecessary risks.
When the aeroplane had reached a level of about two hundred feet from the earth, the engine was once more accelerated and they resumed their steady onward progress.
“It’s sure a treat to look down on the lake like this. Beats the view from up on the side of the mountain all hollow,” presently remarked Andy.
“Why, yes,” said his companion, as he swerved just a trifle to follow the contour of the water lying below; “because in this way we can see the shore line all around.”