THE FIRST FLIGHT
A group of curious spectators stood around the _Thunder Bird_
open-mouthed and wide of eye.
"You tell me that thing go up--up high? No!" expostulated one of the
Mexicans with a gesture of skepticism.
"Da boys make him fly," said another, grinning, and showing an even row
of milk-white teeth.
"Na, not da leetle boys?" protested a third, mopping his perspiring
swarthy skin with a red bandanna handkerchief, for the day was a warm
one and the sun had almost reached the middle of its daily course.
"Funniest lookin' thing I ever seed," put in a lame soldier, hobbling
around the machine and scrutinizing it doubtfully. He had, like a number
of his comrades, spent the last decade or so in and around the fort,
hearing little of the outside world.
"Who's goin' to shoot it up?" asked a sheep herder, with some notion of
a sky rocket. He had begged the day off in order to be present at the
first flight.
"Da leetle kids," replied a fat, indolent-looking Greaser, spitting a
generous supply of tobacco juice. "I na believe it," he added, with a
foolish grin which was intended to betoken shrewd disbelief.
"That so," laughed the soldier. "What you think, John?" he asked
another.
"No sabe," responded the Mexican, spreading out his palms. "Spak no
Angloise." He turned his attention to the machine which he had been
inspecting with childlike interest.
"I'd give a dollar for a cool breeze," sighed a soldier, skimming off
the moisture that had gathered on his face and neck.
Grouped about Hawke were the aspiring young aviators--the Fort Bayard
bunch and the two from the Bread Pudding ranch. Their bright faces were
rosy with excitement, and Hawke's was flushed with eagerness.
"Suppose it shouldn't work," whispered Fly, breathlessly, afraid to
sound aloud the unconfessed fear which he did not share alone.
"Forget that noise," reproved Jerry. "Just leave it to Hawke. He says
she's going to."
"Dry up, old man," chided Dunk. "Didn't we make it--then it's all
right."
"You bet it's goin' to work," confidently assured Herb, unwilling to
allow himself a moment's doubt.
Perhaps Hawke himself was a little anxious, for his habitual cool
demeanor had given place to a rather apparent agitation. He continually
plowed his hands through his damp hair as he went about giving the
machine a final examination.
"Is she all right?" inquired Dunk, when the aviator, seemingly
satisfied, straightened up and discontinued his examination.
"As slick as a whistle," returned Hawke cheerily, springing lightly into
the plane.
A touch of his hand and the motor was buzzing impatiently.
"Fine day for a try-out," he observed. "Not a breath of wind stirring."
Fred and Dunk were instructed to hold the tail at the start, and Jerry
was to turn the screw that set the machine in motion.
"I'm ready now, any time," said Hawke, with perfect composure.
"Clear away, everybody," commanded Captain Crawford, but it took both
him and Mr. Phipps to force the crowd back against the buildings
surrounding the parade grounds.
"When I fire, up she goes," laughed Herb, rather nervously, gripping the
revolver which he held in his hand. He almost hesitated to fire the shot
that should decide the fate of their earnest labors.
Hawke, however, had regained his natural calm, and sat waiting, composed
and confident.
"Let 'er go," he commanded, taking hold of the lever with a sure and
steady hand.
"One, two, three--bang!"
A puff of smoke--then the whirr of the propellers, creating a sudden
wind which blew hats off and left the bystanders breathless--and the
man-made bird was running swiftly over the smooth parade grounds like a
low-flying bird.
There was a murmur among the crowd, a straining of necks and eyes, and
an unconscious leaning forward. Then, as the aeroplane, with an almost
imperceptible slant, challenged the air and gradually ascended, a shout
of spontaneous admiration arose, gaining in volume and reaching such a
thunderous climax that it seemed to call forth an echo from the distant
mountains.
Again and again the skillfully guided plane swept gracefully over the
group of buildings, its circle constantly widening as it rose, and,
finally, shot above the tall flag pole. On and up it went, swift as a
hawk, gracefully taking higher and higher altitudes, until the crowd,
realizing the height attained, began to gasp almost with fear, their
heads strained back painfully, their hands shading their eyes.
At last the plane, with rhythmic undulations, began to descend, its
purring music growing louder as, accomplishing slow circles, it came
nearer and nearer, until, amidst a hush that was almost deathlike, it
skimmed the ground and lit, a few feet from the starting point.
Again there was a mighty yell, and hats went up as Hawke leaped joyously
upon the firm ground.
Faces alight, the boys pressed around him, almost speechless with
delight. The first joy of real success was upon them all. They had
attempted a splendid task, and they had won!
The crowd, refusing to be held back longer, streamed to the center of
the grounds, like water surging over a suddenly opened dam.
"Marvelous," exclaimed Mr. Phipps, the first to find his voice.
This single word opened the flood gates, and a babble of voices ensued.
The boys shouted excitedly, pranced like long-imprisoned colts enjoying
their first freedom, hugged one another, and threw up their hats and
handkerchiefs. Soldiers talked excitedly and endeavored to edge nearer
to the structure which fascinated and compelled their admiration. In
spite of its performance, they still looked upon it in skeptical wonder.
The Greasers, with unfeigned admiration, rubbed their dark palms
caressingly over the cloth-covered wings. Several Indians, their blank
faces for once expressive, stood fearfully on the outskirts of the
crowd, and finally slunk away, breaking into a dogtrot as they took the
trail to the cliffs.
But it mattered not to the boys what the crowd might think or say--they
were elated beyond the influence of the opinions of others. They
suddenly felt themselves grown to manhood--for they had done what men
were doing--and, without exception, they felt inspired with a dauntless
determination to master the thing which they had made, and learn to
control it as Hawke had done.
"Take us up! Take us up!" they cried at once, pressing around the
aviator, who, though nearly exhausted from the strain under which he had
been laboring, and choking for air, in this tight circle of humanity,
was smiling happily. He too felt the intoxicating joy of triumph surge
through his whole being, and forgot all external conditions.
"You must rest," protested Mr. Phipps.
"Yes, come right over to the house. We'll have something cool to drink,
and a light lunch," seconded the captain.
"Guess we'd better not try any more for to-day," said Hawke to the boys.
"Just before I landed, one of the guy wires snapped."
"Put her in the hangar then," suggested Herb, willing to sacrifice his
desire to the comfort of the aviator.
"Sure, you've done enough to-day," put in Fly, not wishing to be
selfish, although he would have given a good deal to take a turn in the
machine beside Hawke.
With the aid of the bystanders the plane was put back into the shed. Ike
was left to watch it until the crowd should disperse.
"We'll have another demonstration soon," said Hawke, noticing the
disappointment depicted on the faces of the onlookers as they divined
the intention to discontinue flying for that day.
"The plane has succeeded almost beyond my hopes," Hawke said, as after
luncheon he sat with the men and boys at the Crawford residence. "My
equalizing device has to be tested, but I'm sure it's going to be
entirely adequate to carry at least six passengers at a time."
"Well, you see you have a band of crack workmen," laughed Mr. Crawford,
taking the boys in with a gesture.
"That can be said with all seriousness," replied Hawke earnestly.
The week was spent in trying out the machine, Hawke and the boys making
several test flights each day. At the end of that time, they knew beyond
a doubt that they could trust the _Thunder Bird_ to do anything they
wished. Hawke and five of the boys had ridden in it with safety for four
hours, putting it to the most severe test.
With unfailing patience and ready good will, Hawke took them, by ones,
and twos, and often filling the machine to its capacity, explaining to
them the principles of successful flight. It was impossible, however, in
this short time, for all of the boys to become masters of the machine.
Fly, however, showed unusual proficiency, and by Saturday night was
enthusiastically begging to be allowed to take the machine up alone, a
request which was of course persistently refused by his anxious father
and mother.
"I'm astonished, though, at the ability the boy shows," Hawke told Mr.
Giles confidentially. "They're all first class, but Fly has the inborn
instincts of a successful bird-man. He takes hold instantaneously,
thinking, as it were, with his muscles, and handling his levers
automatically, with the precision of an expert. All the boys have steady
nerves and are going to acquire the poise and control of good fliers,
but your son has unusual intuition."
"But you wouldn't let him go up alone yet?" said Mr. Giles, skeptically,
though he might have altered his refusal at this assurance from Hawke if
Mrs. Giles had not protested anxiously.
"Well, no. Better wait until after the hunt. That'll give them a good
working basis," advised Hawke.
"Oh, please, please, please," pleaded Fly, whose anxiety to sail once,
only just once, alone and unaided, up into the inviting blue clouds, and
feel that he had at last achieved his great ambition, prompted him to
repeated entreaty that the privilege might be granted him.
"Time enough, my son," said Mr. Giles indulgently.
But the time came sooner than any of them dreamed.