“See here, Dashaway,” he said, “you’ve heard what these people are putting up to me?”
“Yes, sir, I understand the situation,” answered Dave.
“There’s some money in this for whoever tries it. I wouldn’t let a novice take a risk, but I’ll say from what I’ve seen of the parachute suit of this old fellow that it’s no great trick to take a short drop in it.”
“Then why not let me try it?” asked Dave.
“You’re willing?”
“More than willing.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. The old inventor is pestering me to death, and while I’d be glad to help him along, I also want to get rid of him. He’ll be satisfied if he can announce to airmen generally that a successful test of his device was made from the Aegis, under my supervision. I think I’ll let you try it.”
The airman again consulted with the inventor and the motion picture manager. A few minutes later some arrangement seemed to be agreed upon. The inventor went away. The manager proceeded over to the torpedo monoplane. When the inventor came back he had a long box under his arm. He, the airman and Dave went over to where the Aegis stood. The inventor produced his patent parachute suit from the box.
He explained how it worked as Dave put it on. Then the airman and Dave went aloft on a little run in the machine. At twenty feet, and then at fifty feet from the ground Dave jumped from the monoplane. In both instances he descended through the air light as a feather. He not only landed safely on his feet, but he did not experience the least disturbing jar.
While they were thus practicing for a more spectacular leap, Dave could see the old inventor almost dancing around with suspense and satisfaction. The camera man was notified that the Aegis was ready for its part in the picture. The torpedo monoplane got aloft, and the scene began.