“And I wouldn’t consent, Bob,” he explained, “but for the fact that you seem to be one who is not disposed to take foolish chances.”
“You can depend upon me, Mr. Ogden,” cried Bob, enthusiastically.
The days seemed to follow one another swiftly at Lone Pine; and except during the very hottest part of the afternoon the boys always managed to find something to occupy their attention. Ferd made many ascents, taking Bob with him, rising higher on each occasion, in order to accustom his pupil to dizzy altitudes. Bob’s nerves, however, proved equal to the task imposed upon them; and it was agreed that soon he should be allowed to occupy the aviator’s seat.
“Bob,” exclaimed Mr. Ogden, one morning after breakfast, “would you like to take a spin over to Border City?”
“Well, I should say so!” cried Bob.
“That ought to be a great trip,” said Tom.
“Perfectly grand!” came from Dick, in enthusiastic tones.
With so many willing hands to draw the aeroplane from beneath its canvas covering the work was done in record time.
At length Bob clambered into his seat, his eyes sparkling in pleasurable anticipation. It was a fine day, with a lively breeze blowing over the broad prairie. There was a fragrance in the air—a scent of grass and other growing things pleasant to the senses.
“So-long, fellows!” yelled Bob.