“It is simply gliding downward through space,” said Dave Brandon. “I’ve seen some aviators who almost rivaled the ease and grace of birds in soaring to earth from great heights.”
“I’ll bet Dave knows all about aeroplanes,” said Dick.
“Only a little, and that in theory,” laughed the stout boy.
“To be a bird-man requires a cool head and a steady hand,” said Mr. Ogden. “One needs to be continually on his guard against treacherous air currents; although over a broad plain, like the one we have out here, aeroplaning is comparatively safe.”
“But near the hills and mountains it’s mighty different,” remarked Ferd. “A stiff breeze meeting these obstructions is deflected off into all sorts of swirls and waves, making the machine difficult to manage. One minute we may be traveling against a wind of a certain velocity, only to find ourselves suddenly plunged into another entirely different, or one cutting across at an angle.”
“And that is where the quickness of brain and hand come into play,” put in Mr. Ogden. “The aviator, no matter how careful he may be, is always liable to be taken by surprise.”
“Well, it must be dandy sport, anyway,” cried Cranny, “an’ I know you’re just achin’ to take one o’ us up, right now.”
“Don’t let it be Mr. Clifton,” said Willie, with one of his impish grins. “We may need him and his first-aid-to-the-injured book yet.”
“You’ll be needing somebody’s aid pretty soon, I’m thinking,” murmured Tom, hotly.
“Well, I suppose we may as well get ready for our flight, Ferd,” remarked Mr. Ogden. “Want to go up, Jed?”