“You’re not fit.”
“In what way?”
“Why, er—strength, and—and experience. Girls don’t fly, my dear; they simply encourage the men to risk their necks.”
“Boo! there’s no danger,” asserted Orissa, scornfully. “One is as safe in the Kane Aircraft as in a trundle-bed.”
“Yet Steve—”
“Oh, one may be murdered in bed, you know, as well as in an aëroplane. Had those guy-wires not been tampered with an accident to my brother would have been impossible. Have you stopped to consider, sir, that even when the planes separated and crumpled under the air pressure Steve’s device asserted its ability to float, and dropped gently to the ground? Steve managed to get hurt because he fell under the weight of the motors; that was all. Really, sir, I can’t imagine anything safer than the aircraft. And as for brawn and muscle, you know very well that little strength is required in an aviator. Skill is called for; a clear head and a quick eye; and these qualities I possess.”
“H-m. You think you can manage the thing?”
“I know it—absolutely. I’ve talked over with Steve every detail from the very beginning, and have personally tested all the working parts time and again, except in actual flight.”
“And you’re not afraid?”
“Not in the least.”