"Hope the weather will be warmer," said Athol. "It must be cold work flying on a day like this."
"Not in a covered-in artificially-heated chassis," corrected Desmond Blake. "Even the pilot's and observer's heads are protected by transparent screens."
"I should have thought that the snow driving against the screen would obscure it," remarked Dick.
"Then we'll put your theory to the test," declared the inventor briskly. "No time like the present. I'll open the doors to their widest capacity and fill up the tanks with fuel. You might also fix the two automatic guns to their pedestals; it's as well to have a trial flight with the normal weights on board."
The hose communicating with a powerful suction pump was coupled on to the tanks, and fifty gallons of fuel taken on board.
"I've doctored the petrol," explained the inventor. "I introduce a quantity of benzine in tabloid form. The result is—I am judging by results obtained on a car—that I can get fifty per cent. more power out of the motors. Now hold tight for the take off."
The floor of the shed being slightly on the down grade the vibration of the engines was sufficient to set the battleplane in motion until it reached the open space in front of the doors.
It was now snowing heavily. The tops of the pine trees were almost hidden in the blurr of falling flakes.
"Pull that slide over the rearmost seat, Dick," ordered the inventor. "It won't be needed this trip. That is good. Now, stand by with the ignition lever. That will be your only job for a while."
Desmond Blake had climbed into the pilot's seat, and had raised a hinged wind screen fitted with side wings and overhead covering. Athol followed his example, taking his place at the second, or machine gunner's seat.