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Updated: June 7, 2025
All were in aviator's dress, and each carried a parcel by a handle held with stout straps. Had you seen them, you would have noticed they took particular pains not to jar or shake these parcels, or approach unduly near each other. At the door of the refuge, Catherine said good-bye to each, and added some brave word of cheer.
None could tell twenty-four hours ahead what the air might be like, and as for utilizing the aviator's most favourable hour, the calm of the dawn, M. Santos-Dumont remarked: "The duellist may call out his friends at that sacred hour, but not the airship captain." The craft with which the Brazilian first strove to win the Deutsch prize he called Santos-Dumont No.
"There won't be much fooling about it, Hiram. I know the chances and, I shan't look for any fun. It is a bad night, I know, but the wind is right, and I can head straight into it in reaching Kewaukee." "How far away is Kewaukee, Dave?" "Ninety-five miles." Dave, while he talked, had been putting on his regular aviator's suit.
Unless the airman has some means of determining his position, such as landmarks, he fails to realise the fact that he is drifting, or, even if he becomes aware of this fact, it is by no means a simple straightforward matter for him to make adequate allowance for the factor. Side-drift is the aviator's greatest enemy. It cannot be determined with any degree of accuracy.
He opened his eyes upon a broken wall, a crumpled motor car, and an undamaged motor cyclist in the aviator's cap and thin oilskin overalls dear to motor cyclists. Mr. Direck stared and then, still stunned and puzzled, tried to raise himself. He became aware of acute pain. "Don't move for a bit," said the motor cyclist. "Your arm and side are rather hurt, I think...." Section 8
The Caudron was rushing straight at the balloon, diving for the attack. "Now!" cried the crowd. There was a loud crack, a flash, and eight long rockets darted forth leaving behind a fiery trail. The aviator's aim however was wide, and to the disappointment of everyone the darts fell harmlessly to the ground.
It landed with a thud, almost at the feet of Tom and Jack, and the latter picked it up. It was an aviator's glove; and as Jack held it up a note dropped out. Quickly it was read, and the import of it was given to all in a simultaneous shout of joy from Tom and Jack. "It's word from Harry Leroy! Word from Harry at last!"
Blaine, following him with his eyes, saw Buck doff his aviator's cap as he reached the group that also included an elderly man and lady, and another matronly form which was easily recognized by many as the head nurse in charge of the new Red Cross stations within the American sector. "Durn me if he isn't shaking hands with those girls!" soliloquized Lafe. "The cheek of him!
Another disclosed an "M.M.," a Médaille Militaire. A third showed him the "D.F.C.," or Distinguished Flying Cross. Still another contained aviator's insignia in the form of a double pair of wings. The Master smiled, and closed the boxes, then the drawer. "After these," he mused, "dead inaction? Not for me!"
Jack opened the panel. "Hello the boat!" cried a voice from the aviator's seat. "Hello, Ned!" all three boys called back. "How do you know it's Ned?" was asked. "We saw that beautiful face of yours in the red fire," replied Jack. "How are we going to get out of here? They've blockaded the river below, and the falls are above."
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