I haven't pushed her to the limit yet."
"And don't you do it--not until I get more used to it," stipulated
the owner of the airship.
The former army officer sent the aircraft through several simple
evolutions to test her. She answered well, though Uncle Ezra gasped
once or twice, and his grip on the seat rail tightened.
"When do you plan to start?" Mr. Larabee wanted to know, again.
"Oh, in about a week. I have sent in an application to have a
representative of the government assigned to us, and when he comes
we'll start. That will give me a chance to buy the new carburetor,
and make some other little changes."
"Well, let's go down now," suggested Uncle Ezra. "Hello, what's
this?" he cried, looking at his coat. "Why, I'm all covered with
oil!"
"Yes, it does drip a little," admitted the aviator. "I haven't
tightened the washers on the tank. You mustn't mind a little thing
like that. I often get soaked with oil and gasolene. I should have
told you to put on an old suit."
"But look here!" cried Uncle Ezra, in accents of dismay. "I didn't
put on an old suit! This is my second best. I paid thirteen
dollars for it, and I've bad it four years. It would have been good
for two more if your old oil hadn't leaked on it. Now it's
spoiled!"
"You can have it cleaned, perhaps," suggested the lieutenant as he
sent the biplane about in a graceful curve, before getting ready
for a descent.
"Yes, and maybe have to pay a tailor sixty-five cents! Not much!"
cried Uncle Ezra.
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