Gradually the long row of curved-roofed hangars, partially hidden by the veils of mists, loomed forth more clearly. Before the head of the line had reached the first of the immense flying fields—there were three—numerous mechanics were rolling rather battered-looking little monoplanes from beneath the protecting shelter of the canvas coverings and placing them side by side in long lines.
“I say, my young knight of the air, cast your optics upon the ‘penguins,’” called Mittengale, who happened to be marching just ahead.
Don Hale, however, required no such invitation. He was already studying the machines with the most intense—the most eager interest. “Penguins,” he knew, are Bleriot monoplanes, the wings of which have been so shortened as to render the machines powerless to lift themselves from the ground; hence the rather curious appellation of “penguins,” birds of that name not being able to fly.
Certainly the “penguins” had an extraordinary fascination for the new candidate. To his active mind they suggested huge dragon-flies—all ready to wing their way lightly to other parts.
A few moments later the boy was standing before the nearest machine. Now every semblance to a military line had vanished. Students, moniteurs, mechanics and laborers were all mingling together before the hangars.
Some time later, while he was still regarding the machines with an absorbing degree of interest, the voice of the head instructor broke sharply in upon his thoughts.
In loud tones he was calling out the names of various students and designating the numbers of the machine they were to use. Immediately the future airmen began jumping into their places, and before many moments had passed every “penguin” in the long line had an occupant.
“Goodness! I certainly feel like an outsider,” murmured Don. “I reckon I’d better hunt up the sergeant and——”
At that second the air became surcharged with a series of startling staccato explosions, with roars, great crashes and bangs, quite ear-splitting in their intensity—the motors were being tested. Gradually the rising crescendo, suggestive of some strange, wild symphony, reached its greatest climax, and then as slowly began to subside. And presently, in its place, came the soft, pleasant drone and hum of many smoothly-working motors and propellers.
Now the highly interested Don Hale saw the assistants removing the blocks from beneath the wheels of the “penguins” and heard the moniteurs giving their pupils a few final words of advice.