“We might as well tell you, Sandy, now that it’s ‘all off’,” Dick said. “We were going to give you another present—a hop over your own house in Flatbush—with Larry for pilot! But——”
“Oh, never mind Jeff. Let’s go!”
“Don’t be silly, Jeff,” Mr. Everdail chided the pilot. “Check over everything and then go up. You know mighty well that accidents don’t come from ‘hoodoos’. They come from lack of precaution on the pilot’s part. The weather charts for today give perfect flying weather. The airplane is in fine shape. Go ahead—give the lads a treat!”
“On your heads be it!” Jeff said somberly.
He did not neglect his duty. For all his nonsense about omens and such things, he gave the airplane a careful checkup, warmed up the engine for Larry himself and made sure that everything he could foresee was provided for.
Sandy, thrilled at the prospect of a hop with his own comrade doing the control job, was full of fun and jokes.
Dick, no less eager to see Larry perform his new duties, wasn’t behind Sandy in good humor.
Larry, though quiet, was both confident and calm.
He did not forget to assure himself, by a final look at the windsock indicating the wind direction, that the breeze had not shifted.
Neither did he “dust” the hangar, nor lose his straight course as he taxied across the field at an angle to turn, without scraping wings or digging up turf with the tail skid.