“Because, my boy, she can’t land on water more than once, that’s why. It may come in mighty handy to have an amphibian up there on the Maine shore. And don’t think for a minute this biplane can’t travel. Wait till you ride in her and see.”
When they had wheeled the plane out on the concrete apron, Bill went back and swung the doors shut and locked them. Charlie was already seated aft when Bill climbed into the fore cockpit and adjusted his helmet, goggles and safety belt.
“Okay?” he asked the youngster.
“Okay!”
“Safety belt fastened?”
“You bet.”
“Fine. Keep that rifle handy. If those lads get too close—let ’er go.”
“I will, Bill, you can trust me.”
Bill snapped on the ignition. The propeller swung into motion as the inertia starter did the trick. The engine sputtered, then roared. He slipped into a heavy flying jacket as the engine warmed up. Charlie, he knew, had already donned his in the rear cockpit.
The engine was roaring smoothly as Bill fitted the phones over his helmet and adjusted the receivers over his earflaps. A mouthpiece hung on his chest and a wire ran back to the headset that Charlie wore. This would allow them to talk in the air, even with the coughing bark of the engine through the exhausts.