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astonishing rate. Surely this was not quite right! They must be
dropping like a stone. Up, up, came the ground. Bob unconsciously
braced himself for the impact. They were going to come down with
a mighty smash. He held his breath and set his teeth. At the very
moment when all seemed over but the crash, the graceful plane lifted
its head ever so slightly, the engine started roaring again, and
they glided to earth and ran along so smoothly that for the life
of him Bob could not have told the exact moment the wheels touched
the ground.

When they stepped out of the machine Bob did something on the spur
of the moment that he laughed about afterward. He stepped to the
lieutenant and put out his hand. As Fauver took it in a friendly,
firm grasp Bob said: "That was the biggest experience of my life."
Again that similarity of temperament between the two told Fauver
something of the depth of Bob's feeling, and he said quietly: "I
am glad to have given you a chance to go up, and next time you happen
to be around when I am going up, if you can get away for a little
while, I would be glad to have you go along. One of these days I
will give you a good long flight, if I get a chance."

Bob went back to the hangar an older boy. The enthusiasm still held
him close. The days would drag, now, until he could begin flying.
He was sure of that.

When the other Brighton boys learned that Bob had actually been up
in the air, there was a natural desire among them all to do likewise.
Jimmy Hill made up his mind it would not be long before he had a
flight. Adams, one of the instructors who had recently arrived,
wanted a hand to help him tune up a new school machine that was
fitted with dual control, i.e., that had a double set of levers so
that the novice could guide the machine while the instructor had a
restraining hand on them in case of emergencies. Reece, Jimmy
Hill's great friend, was called away to make a test flight just
as Adams spoke to him about a good helper, and told Adams that he
could not do better than give Jimmy a chance to lend a hand.

"The boy will do what he is told," said Reece. "All you have to do
is to explain just what you want done. He is dependable. Try him.
He is a nice boy, too, and you will like to have him round."

So Jimmy worked that day and the next on the new school machine.
Finally it was ready.

"Wait till I take her up for a bit and see how she pulls and I will
give you a runaround in her," said Adams to Jimmy. The instructor had
been highly pleased with the way the boy had worked, and felt anxious
to give him a treat.

Thus Jimmy had his first flight. Further, he was shown by Adams how
to hold the controls, though he was careful to put no pressure on
them. Next day Adams said, "Come on. I will show you how we start
teaching flying where I come from."

Before half an hour passed Jimmy found he could "taxi," as Adams
called running along the ground, quite well. That was but a beginning.
Three times in the following week Adams took the boy out for a lesson;
and the practical experience, though limited, gave Jimmy a very good
idea of what was required of much of the adjustments and finer points
of tuning up that he had learned to see Reece do in the sheds.

At last Adams made a short flight and let Jimmy handle the machine
for a few moments alone, the instructor removing his hands from his
control levers and leaving the job to Jimmy. It was a simple enough
little flight, but Jimmy had the knowledge that he had been actually
flying the machine for a time, all by himself, which pleased
him beyond measure.

One of the red-letter days the Brighton boys were long to remember
was that on which they first watched a new arrival to the airdrome,
an experienced flier, loop the loop and nose-dive on one of the fast
chasers. The whirling, darting plane seemed so completely at the
mercy of the pilot that the boys were rapt in silent wonder. That
exhibition of what the birdmen of to-day call real flying was a
revelation to them.

It held out promise of long study and careful practice far ahead
before they could hope to equal or excel the cool, modest young
aviator who came down so gracefully after a series of side loops
that made most of the spectators hold their breath.

Summer days passed rapidly. Joe Little and Louis Deschamps were
sitting in a hangar one Sunday afternoon, chatting about a new type
of battle-plane that had arrived that week.

"I could fly that bus," said Joe, "if I had a chance."

"That is just the trouble," commented Louis. "Getting the chance is
what is so hard. I am tired of fussing around on those school
machines they let us on now and then. What is the good of trying to
fly on a plane that won't rise more than a couple of dozen feet? I
have never had a chance to fly anything else. I get to thinking,
working so much on real planes, that those school machines for the
infant class are not fliers at all. They are a sort of cross between
a flying machine and an auto."

"You are in too much of a rush," Joe admonished. "I think we are
lucky to get a go in one of those now and then. Jimmy Hill goes up
in that old dual-control bus with Adams, but to my mind that sort of
thing is out of date. I have got the idea of lateral control as well

astonishing rate. Surely this was not quite right! They must be

dropping like a stone. Up, up, came the ground. Bob unconsciously

braced himself for the impact. They were going to come down with

a mighty smash. He held his breath and set his teeth. At the very

moment when all seemed over but the crash, the graceful plane lifted

its head ever so slightly, the engine started roaring again, and

they glided to earth and ran along so smoothly that for the life

of him Bob could not have told the exact moment the wheels touched

the ground.

When they stepped out of the machine Bob did something on the spur

of the moment that he laughed about afterward. He stepped to the

lieutenant and put out his hand. As Fauver took it in a friendly,

firm grasp Bob said: "That was the biggest experience of my life."

Again that similarity of temperament between the two told Fauver

something of the depth of Bob's feeling, and he said quietly: "I

am glad to have given you a chance to go up, and next time you happen

to be around when I am going up, if you can get away for a little

while, I would be glad to have you go along. One of these days I

will give you a good long flight, if I get a chance."

Bob went back to the hangar an older boy. The enthusiasm still held

him close. The days would drag, now, until he could begin flying.

He was sure of that.

When the other Brighton boys learned that Bob had actually been up

in the air, there was a natural desire among them all to do likewise.

Jimmy Hill made up his mind it would not be long before he had a

flight. Adams, one of the instructors who had recently arrived,

wanted a hand to help him tune up a new school machine that was

fitted with dual control, i.e., that had a double set of levers so

that the novice could guide the machine while the instructor had a

restraining hand on them in case of emergencies. Reece, Jimmy

Hill's great friend, was called away to make a test flight just

as Adams spoke to him about a good helper, and told Adams that he

could not do better than give Jimmy a chance to lend a hand.

"The boy will do what he is told," said Reece. "All you have to do

is to explain just what you want done. He is dependable. Try him.

He is a nice boy, too, and you will like to have him round."

So Jimmy worked that day and the next on the new school machine.

Finally it was ready.

"Wait till I take her up for a bit and see how she pulls and I will

give you a runaround in her," said Adams to Jimmy. The instructor had

been highly pleased with the way the boy had worked, and felt anxious

to give him a treat.

Thus Jimmy had his first flight. Further, he was shown by Adams how

to hold the controls, though he was careful to put no pressure on

them. Next day Adams said, "Come on. I will show you how we start

teaching flying where I come from."

Before half an hour passed Jimmy found he could "taxi," as Adams

called running along the ground, quite well. That was but a beginning.

Three times in the following week Adams took the boy out for a lesson;

and the practical experience, though limited, gave Jimmy a very good

idea of what was required of much of the adjustments and finer points

of tuning up that he had learned to see Reece do in the sheds.

At last Adams made a short flight and let Jimmy handle the machine

for a few moments alone, the instructor removing his hands from his

control levers and leaving the job to Jimmy. It was a simple enough

little flight, but Jimmy had the knowledge that he had been actually

flying the machine for a time, all by himself, which pleased

him beyond measure.

One of the red-letter days the Brighton boys were long to remember

was that on which they first watched a new arrival to the airdrome,

an experienced flier, loop the loop and nose-dive on one of the fast

chasers. The whirling, darting plane seemed so completely at the

mercy of the pilot that the boys were rapt in silent wonder. That

exhibition of what the birdmen of to-day call real flying was a

revelation to them.

It held out promise of long study and careful practice far ahead

before they could hope to equal or excel the cool, modest young

aviator who came down so gracefully after a series of side loops

that made most of the spectators hold their breath.

Summer days passed rapidly. Joe Little and Louis Deschamps were

sitting in a hangar one Sunday afternoon, chatting about a new type

of battle-plane that had arrived that week.

"I could fly that bus," said Joe, "if I had a chance."

"That is just the trouble," commented Louis. "Getting the chance is

what is so hard. I am tired of fussing around on those school

machines they let us on now and then. What is the good of trying to

fly on a plane that won't rise more than a couple of dozen feet? I

have never had a chance to fly anything else. I get to thinking,

working so much on real planes, that those school machines for the

infant class are not fliers at all. They are a sort of cross between

a flying machine and an auto."

"You are in too much of a rush," Joe admonished. "I think we are

lucky to get a go in one of those now and then. Jimmy Hill goes up

in that old dual-control bus with Adams, but to my mind that sort of

thing is out of date. I have got the idea of lateral control as well