“Well, he’d better change it if he doesn’t want to get into trouble with me!”
With a scowl directed at the back of the retreating Cousin Ronald, Dave opened the gate for the girls and helped them into the taxi.
“I thought perhaps you wouldn’t entirely trust me as a pilot,” he declared as they were speeding rapidly toward the airfield, “so I brought along an expert. There isn’t a better pilot to be had than Don Everts. He’s waiting for us at the field.”
“You know we’d trust you,” Doris protested quickly.
Dave grinned.
“Well, anyway, I thought it would give me a better chance to talk with you girls.”
A few minutes later the cab turned in at the flying field and came to a standstill near a row of hangars. Dave helped the girls to alight and paid the driver.
“This way,” he directed, leading them toward a monoplane at the far end of the runway.
Quickly he introduced Don Everts, the pilot, a lean chap in helmet and dungarees. The girls found him very quiet and self-contained, but liked him at once.
They took their places in the cockpit and Dave smiled at them reassuringly. The pilot carefully examined the controls and then nodded to the mechanic who stood waiting to swing the propeller.