An instant later the explosions almost doubled, for Tom turned on more gasolene. Then, like some live thing, the Butterfly rushed across the starting ground. Faster and faster it went, until the young inventor, knowing that he had motion enough, tilted his planes to catch the wind.
Up he went from earth, like some graceful bird, higher and higher, and then, in a big spiral, he began ascending until he was five hundred feet in the air. Up there he traveled back and forth, in circles, and in figure eights, desiring to test the machine in various capacities.
Suddenly the engine stopped, and to those below, anxiously watching, the silence became almost oppressive, for Tom had somewhat descended, and the explosions had been plainly heard by those observing him. But now they ceased!
"His engine's stalled!" cried Garret Jackson.
Mr. Swift heard the words, and looked anxiously up at his son.
"Is he in any danger?" gasped Mr. Damon.
No one answered him. Like some great bird, disabled in mid flight, the monoplane swooped downward. A moment later a hearty shout from Tom reassured them.
"He shut off the engine on purpose," said Mr. Jackson. "He is vol-planing back to earth!"
Nearer and nearer came the Butterfly. It would shoot downward, and then, as Tom tilted the planes, would rise a bit, losing some of the great momentum. In a series of maneuvers like this, the young inventor reached the earth, not far from where his father and the others stood. Down came the Butterfly, the springs of the wheel frame taking the shock wonderfully well.
"She's all right--regular bird!" cried Tom, in enthusiasm, when the machine had come to a stop after rolling over the ground, and he had leaped out. "We'll make a good flight to-morrow, Mr. Damon, if the weather holds out this way."