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"The Monarch II acts prettily, that's sure," replied the young aviator. Dave delighted his companion by giving him charge of the barograph readings and attention to some of the minor duties of aviation. The rapid progress of the machine in mid air was exhilarating. The weather conditions were ideal, and Dave had a definite goal in view. There was not a break in the pleasant twilight journey.
"You can take a tape measure along, and see for yourself," he added to his fair passenger. "The barograph will hardly register such a little height." "Well, it's as high as I want to go," said the girl. "Oh!" with a scream, as Tom started the propeller. "Are we going?" "In a moment," was his reply. He took his seat beside the girl.
"I'm going to tilt the craft suddenly at an angle that would turn her over if it were not for the stabilizer," was the answer. Dick looked at the barograph, or height-recording gage. It registered thirty-eight hundred feet. They had gone up a considerable distance in making their experiments.
Reaching a height of three thousand feet, as Dick ascertained by the barograph, the young millionaire straightened his craft out on a level keel, and kept her there, sending her ahead, and in curves, at an increasing speed. "There you go now, Paul," he called. "Suppose you take her for a while." "Well, if you want an accident, just let me monkey with some of the works," laughed the jolly cadet.
"Fly around a bit, and then come back over my house. I'm going to try the lantern on that first, and see what I can make out from a couple of miles up in the air." Up and up went the Falcon, silently and powerfully, until the barograph registered nearly fourteen thousand feet. "This is high enough." spoke Tom.
And then, when there came a lull in the fierce blowing of the wind, the elevation rudder took hold, and like a bird that sees the danger below, and flies toward the clouds, the airship shot up suddenly. "That's it!" cried Tom in relief, as he noted the needle of the barograph swinging over, indicating an ever-increasing height. "Now we're safe."
Does he guess at the distance he is above the earth? If this were so, then it is very evident that there would be great difficulty in awarding a prize to a number of competitors each trying to ascend higher than his rivals. No; the pilot does not guess at his flying height, but he finds it by a height-recording instrument called the BAROGRAPH.
"What if we are being drawn by magnetic force toward the pole?" "And be dashed to destruction as we reach it?" the professor finished for him. Brave as they were, the adventurers gave a shudder that was not born of the gnawing cold as the possibility occurred to them. Frank glanced at the barograph. Fifteen hundred feet. They were then holding their own in altitude. This was a cheering sign.
It was a quarter past ten o'clock, and the barograph needle pointed to twelve thousand eight hundred. Up I went and up, my ears concentrated upon the deep purring of my motor, my eyes busy always with the watch, the revolution indicator, the petrol lever, and the oil pump. No wonder aviators are said to be a fearless race. With so many things to think of there is no time to trouble about oneself.
"Still, if you feel you can't afford it," he went on, with a sly look at the crabbed old man who sat there clutching the sides of the seat, "we'll have to do the best we can, and make this carburetor do. I guess we'll have to keep on a little higher," he added, as he glanced at the barograph. "Say! Hold on!" yelled Uncle Ezra in his ear. "You you can have that money for the carburetor!
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