[CHAPTER V.]
THE START.
The following morning dawned clear, and bright, and still. It was a day made to order, so far as aëroplane flying was concerned.
Matt and his cowboy chum spent the night at the post. Before turning in, Matt got into sou'wester, slicker, and rubber boots and churned his way down to the aëroplane tent to see how Ping and the machine were getting along.
Everything was all right, and the heavy, water-proofed canvas was turning the rain nicely. Ping was in love with the Comet, and could be counted on to guard it as the apple of his eye.
"As fine a morning for your start as one could wish for," observed Cameron, with a note of regret in his voice, as he, and Matt, and McGlory came out of the mess hall and started along the board walk that edged the parade ground.
"I'm sorry, old chap, we can't take you with us," said Matt, "but the Comet is hardly a passenger craft, you know."
"What will you do with Prebbles, if he's well enough to go?"
"We'll let Ping come with you by train. Prebbles doesn't weigh much more than the Chinaman."
"Suppose Prebbles doesn't care to risk his neck in the machine?"