Another series of rapid throbs came from the motor; the “Ogden II” slackened its pace until it seemed to be almost hovering over the ground. A few moments later, the machine settled down, the springs and rubber-tired wheels so absorbing the shock of impact that Bob Somers felt only a gentle bump.
When he stepped to the ground the odd sensation of light-headedness seemed only to increase; there was a vague impression as of objects being still in motion. His footing seemed insecure. Bob, however, with a shrug of his shoulders, quickly pulled himself together.
“Glorious—simply immense, fellows!” he cried, enthusiastically, as, with loud whoops, the broncho riders came cantering toward them. “Greatest thing out.”
“It’s surely the greatest thing to be in,” laughed Cranny. “My turn next.”
“Come off!” protested Dick.
“Not off the aeroplane.” Cranny grinned. “Here comes wee Willie.”
“Don’t mention it,” growled Tom.
“You’re lookin’ kinder pale, Somers,” commented Mr. Beaumont’s ward, ambling up. “Feel weak in the legs, I’ll bet. No, I’m not going to take a fly, Cran Beaumont.”
“Really enjoyed it, Bob?” asked Mr. Ogden.
“I should say so,” answered Bob. “The way the machine responds to every movement of the driver is simply wonderful.”