Young Brackett was all right at the wheel. His brief biplane experience counted for enough to enable him to make a very pretty swoop aloft. He was so delighted at this that he chuckled:
“Say, I guess I’ll take a job at running the governor’s machine myself. Hey, what?”
“Good for you—doing finely,” commended Vernon. “Get over the lake, Brackett. If you can manage to sail the machine we’ll take the girls for a ride.”
Dave held his breath. Brackett had split half a circle abruptly, and the Gossamer got ready for a dive. By some accident the frightened pilot banked just in time to save a spill.
“Don’t change your course—don’t dare to!” fairly shouted the excited Dave, as he saw that any further attempt at a head change in novice hands meant sure destruction for the Gossamer.
Young Brackett was terribly frightened. In his fear and dismay he turned on the full power, but let the machine run a perfectly straight course. It was, however, on an angle of about fifty degrees.
“What’s he to do?” chattered Vernon, himself growing pale and nerveless.
“I can’t tell—I can only show him. If the course is not changed, the machine will hit the earth going forty miles an hour,” declared Dave.
“Show him, then! show him!” gasped Vernon.
He reached over with trembling hands and began to loosen the ropes with which he had bound the young aviator. In some way they had become tangled, and in that circumscribed space he dared not move about freely. The Gossamer tipped slightly, and its dismayed pilot let out a yell of fear.