Steve was examining the wreck. He tested the motors and found that neither the fall nor the bull had damaged them in the least. But there was breakage enough, aside from this, to make him groan disconsolately.
“The flight was wonderful,” commented his sister, watching his face anxiously. “Nothing could work more perfectly than the Kane Aircraft did until—until—the final descent. What caused the rocking, Steve?”
“A fault of the lateral balance. My automatic device refused to work, and before I knew it I had lost control.”
She stood gazing thoughtfully down at the wreck. Her brother had really invented a flying machine, of that there was no doubt. She had seen it fly—seen it soar miles through the air—and knew that a certain degree of success had been obtained. There was something wrong, to be sure; there usually is with new inventions; but wrongs can be righted.
“I’ve succeeded in a lot of things,” her brother was saying, reflectively. “The engines, the propeller and elevator are all good, and decided improvements on the old kinds. The starting device works beautifully and will soon be applied to every airship made. Only the automatic balance failed me, and I believe I know how to remedy that fault.”
“Do you suppose the machine can be rebuilt?” she asked.
“Assuredly. And the automatic balance perfected. The trouble is, Orissa, it will take a lot more money to do it, and we’ve already spent the last cent we could raise. It’s hard luck. Here is a certain fortune within our grasp, if we could perfect the thing, and our only stumbling block is the lack of a few dollars.”
Having reviewed in her mind all the circumstances of Steve’s successful flight the girl knew that he spoke truly. Comparing the aircraft with other machines she had seen and studied at the aviation meet she believed her brother’s invention was many strides in advance of them all.
“The question of securing the money is something we must seriously consider,” she said. “In some way it will be raised, of course. But just now our chief problem is how to get this ruin back to the hangar.”
“That will be my job,” declared Steve, his courage returning. “There are few very big pieces left to remove, and by taking things apart I shall be able to get it all into the shed. The day’s doings are over, Ris. Get breakfast and then go to your work. After I’ve stored this rubbish I’ll take a run into town myself, and look for a job. The aviation jig is up—for the present, at least.”