The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service. Goldfrap John Henry

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СКАЧАТЬ the others who passed the ordeal were Merritt and Chance; a slender, greyhound-like chap from the Kansas, named Terry Mulligan; a bos'un's mate from the Louisiana, called Sim Yeemans, a typical Yankee from Vermont, or "Vairmont," as he called it; a comical German blue-jacket from the Idaho, Hans Dunderblitz, and some others whom we shall probably become acquainted with as our narrative progresses.

      The disappointed ones were spun back to the ships in a big auto chartered for the purpose. The successful candidates and the defeated ones parted without animosity.

      "Better luck next time," hailed the chosen nine, as their shipmates drove off.

      "Oh, your ranks will thin out quick enough," cried one of the departing ones, with sinister humor.

      The men selected for the aviation "classes," as they may be called, were, they soon found out, to board at a big stone farmhouse not far from the aviation field. Little more was done that day than to pay a series of visits to the different sheds – or "hangars," in airmen's parlance. In each of these the embryo airmen listened to a short talk on the type of machine they were viewing and heard its qualities discussed. In addition, that night, each of the ambitious ones received a set of books on the science of mastering the air, with instructions to study them carefully. It was implied that those who failed to pass certain examinations at a future date would not be allowed to partake further in the experiments.

      "Well, talk about your ease and luxury," said Herc that night when the Dreadnought Boys were in the room assigned to them at the farmhouse, "we're as well off here as middies at Annapolis. What a contrast to the forecastle! I feel like a millionaire already."

      "Umph!" grunted Ned, who was already deep in his books. "You'd better get to work and study. We've lots of hard work ahead of us."

      "And excitement too, I guess," said Herc, dragging a bulky volume toward him.

      Neither of the two lads at the time fully appreciated how much of both was shortly to be crowded into their lives.

       CHAPTER V

      UNCLE SAM'S MEN-BIRDS

      "Py golly, dot feller Neddie he fly like vun birdt, alretty, ain'd it?" exclaimed Hans Dunderblitz one day two weeks later.

      He was standing by the side of Herc Taylor, watching the evolutions of the bi-plane of Bright-Sturgess model, which Ned Strong was manipulating far above them.

      "You're pretty good yourself, Hans," encouraged Herc.

      "Ach nein! Efferey time I gedt oop midt der air I schneeze. Undt den – down I go tumble, alretty."

      "You'll have to learn to stop sneezing," commented Herc; "maybe the engine doesn't like it – see a doctor."

      "Phwat's thot about docthors?" asked Mulligan, coming up. "Shure talkin' uv doctors reminds me uv one we had at home in Galway. He was a successful docthor, understan', but whin he wos a young mon he was not so well-to-do. In fact, the only ornament he had in his parlor was Patience on a Monument, a stathoo, ye understan'. Wun day a frind calls ter see him in the days whin the doc was prosperous.

      "'Doc,' says he, 'you ain't got Patience on a Monument any more.'

      "'No,' says the docthor, says he, 'shure I've got monumints on all my patients now, begob!'"

      "Puts me in mind of what I once read in a paper up in the Catskills," laughed Herc. "The item read: 'Dr. Jones was called, and under his prompt and skilful treatment Hiram Scroggs died Wednesday night.'"

      "By Chermany, dere vos a docthor vunce – " began Hans.

      But what the doctor "by Chermany" did or said, was destined not to be known, for an order came to the group to resume their practice. Immediately they hastened off to get their machines in trim once more.

      Lieutenant De Frees' system of instruction had proved effectual. By this time almost all of his squad had learned to fly. Some of them could only take "grasshopper jumps," but others, Ned, Merritt and Chance among them, had proven themselves really capable airmen. They had learned with wonderful aptitude.

      Ned would never forget his first day in an aeroplane. The officer had taken up a biplane and given a daring exhibition. Then he descended and announced that instruction would begin. His assistants took up Herc and Merritt, while Ned was ordered to seat himself on the narrow little place beside the officer. The Dreadnought Boy experienced then, not exactly fear, but a curious sort of sinking feeling born of his initiation into a hitherto unknown experience. He braced his feet against the slender struts of the machine, as he was instructed, and held tightly to the handholds provided for the purpose. Then he stole a glance at Lieutenant De Frees. The officer's face was as calm as that of a man who was about to take an afternoon's drive behind a favorite horse.

      Suddenly the officer twitched a brass contrivance attached to a quadrant on his steering handle, which was not unlike that of an automobile. He pressed a pedal with his foot and a mighty roar and vibration began at once as the motor opened up.

      The acrid reek of castor oil, which is used to lubricate aeroplanes, filled the air. The stuff was expelled from the cylinder vents in blue clouds, shot with lambent smoky flame. The mighty power exerted by the eight cylinders shook the frail fabric of the aeroplane as an earthquake might.

      "Hold on tight now!" shouted the officer to the pupils, who were gripping the machine tightly, grasping on to the rear structure. Had they not done so, it would have darted off at once before the two propellers gained top speed and driving power.

      "Now!" shouted the officer suddenly.

      Instantly they let go, as they had been instructed. Ned felt as if he had suddenly been plunged into a runaway express train that was careening over a newly ploughed field. The shocks and vibration of the machine, as it rushed straight forward, like a scared jackrabbit, over the uneven surface of the field, made it hard to hold on.

      Just as Ned felt that he must inevitably be hurled from his seat, the motion suddenly changed. The contrast was violent. From the jouncing, rattling, bumping onrush of a second before, the novice seemed to have been suddenly transported to the softest of feather-beds. The aeroplane glided upward without any apparent effort. It appeared to Ned as if the land was dropping from under his feet, rather than that they were rising from the earth.

      Higher they soared and higher. Suddenly their pleasant drifting, as it seemed, though the aeroplane was making sixty miles an hour, changed to a terrifying drop.

      It was like rushing downward in a runaway elevator. Ned choked, caught his breath, and turned faint and dizzy. Without wishing to do so, he found himself compelled to close his eyes. The qualms of incipient nausea began to rack him. His head pained, too.

      "Gracious," he thought impatiently, "what's the matter with me, anyway? Am I a baby or a girl? If the lieutenant can stand it, I can."

      With a supreme effort of will, the Dreadnought Boy compelled himself to open his eyes. He stole a side glance at his companion. Lieutenant De Frees was as cool as an iceberg.

      "I must be, too," thought Ned, steeling himself. As he did so, the alarming downward motion ceased. They began to rise once more, swinging upward and climbing the sky in long, lazy circles.

      It was then and there that Ned's attack of air fever left him, never to return. Compared to the experiences of his companions, he learned later he had had a comparatively mild attack.

      Ned now began to look about him. The other two aeroplanes were soaring below them, like СКАЧАТЬ