When they climbed, steadily going ahead, to a good altitude over the swamp Garry turned his head, observing that Chick saw the same thing that he did as a white, floating flare lighted up the terrain beneath them.
There were two figures visible on the planking of the outer wharf at no pains to conceal themselves.
Instead, they were feverishly unfastening the light airplane, and Don, at Garry’s touch, nodded to show that he already was aware of the fact.
“That Indian can fly!” Don muttered.
He braced his nerves for an unusual effort.
Chick, too, was taut with excitement; his nerves tingled with expectancy; he would have little to do, yet he must be ready to play what part might be possible.
Garry, less excitable, was inclined to feel misgivings.
“What I understand about ship design makes me think this won’t be as much a test of skill as it will be of performance,” he murmured to himself, not having the Gossport apparatus because it had been left in the Dart.
“It is going to be a test between ‘controllability’ and ‘maneuverability’ this time,” Garry added softly.
He realized that airplane design taught the truth that a craft with a certain type of stabilizing fins, and control surfaces, might be very safe and steady in the air, and yet not respond quickly to its stick and rudder, because stability carried to that point might compel a sacrifice of quick answering to control movements.