“I just won’t let old Doc Cliffy have a chance to grin at me,” he reflected.
He looked at the white fabric close around him; then turned his eyes upward, to see a translucent yellowish light shining through the plane. He experienced an unpleasant sensation of being suspended in space. A bird flew by, so close that his eyes took in the measured beating of a pair of wings. His startled exclamation was drowned by the steadily throbbing motor.
Bob, frequently glancing toward Willie, finally read upon his face evident signs of distress, and, considerately, decided that it was time to bring his flight to a close.
He turned his gaze earthward, and saw a shadow of the biplane skimming lightly across green fields and herds of cattle. He would have been glad to speak a reassuring word to his passenger, but the din of engine and whirr of propeller blades made this quite impossible.
“I can’t land anywhere about here,” he thought, with another look at the herds of longhorns just below.
Bob observed that the animals, frightened by the monster of the air soaring not so high above their heads, were already showing signs of uneasiness. Some pawed the ground, or ran about, while others, with uplifted heads, stared defiantly toward them, as though ready to engage in battle.
“Guess I’ll have to go higher; this might start a stampede,” he reflected.
Accordingly, Bob manipulated the control levers, and the “Ogden II” began to climb steadily upward.
Willie Sloan could not stand the sight of the earth receding. He again closed his eyes, and held on with a still tighter grip, as Bob finally sent the biplane around in a great curve.
The planes, naturally, began to tip.