“The spread of the planes is about forty-five feet; you shall see it presently. Interested in aeroplanes, too?” he asked, turning toward Willie.
“Oh, a little. Say, does it really fly?”
“Like a bird,” laughed Robert.
“It’ll sure never go up with my hundred and seventy-five pound in it,” said Jed Warren, decidedly. “Goin’ to git it out? I’ll give ye a hand, boys.”
By degrees the great aeroplane was drawn from its shelter, while the boys crowded around, examining every part of its mechanism exposed to view with the greatest interest.
They saw two horizontal fabric-covered frames forty-five feet in length by seven wide, set apart a vertical distance of six feet, joined together by strong uprights. These constituted the two planes. From the center, at the rear, a long framework extended backward and was provided at its extremity with two vertical rudders and a horizontal tail-piece. Behind the two seats for the aviators stood a seven-cylinder engine, with a pair of propellers operated by chain gearing ranged on either side. Two small horizontal planes, designed to aid in balancing the machine, as well as to assist in its elevating, were situated in front of the main planes.
The aeroplane rested on rubber-tired swivel wheels, two under the forward plane, the others placed near the end of the tail. The lads noticed springs, too, as a precaution against damage when alighting.
“Well, what do you think of it, boys?” asked Mr. Ogden.
“It’s a bird,” said Willie. “Say, what are those little shutters for?” He pointed toward several flaps fastened to the main plane.
“Those we call aillerons, or balancing wings,” explained Rob, “and they are worked by an automatic arrangement in such a manner that when one falls another rises, tending to steady the plane laterally.”