lear as crystal. A
few clouds, thin as gossamer, hung here and there, growing less as a
steady breeze sprang up in the wake of the sun and gently dismissed them
from the great blue bowl in which they lingered.

When they passed through these fairy clouds, they found them a soft
golden mist shot through with rainbow colors. Then emerging, they passed
once more into blue space, a space greater than Bill had ever imagined.

How tiny, how frail they were: three boys darting in a man-made machine
high above their own realm! What daring! What risks!

Daring, risks? Bill was unable to grasp the meaning of those earth-born
words. He felt neither small nor frail. He, Bill Sherman, a boy, was
among the conquerors!

At a signal from Ernest he increased the speed and soared upward. It is
safer in the higher altitudes, although there is usually a great deal
more wind blowing there. In case of any engine trouble, you have more
time and a longer distance in which to bring the machine to the gliding
angle. Also if you are flying over a city when trouble threatens, you
have a chance to find a good landing place.

All of these things Bill had had lectured to him endlessly at Sill, and
from both Ernest and Tom at school. But actual experience he had not
had. That fact, however, he put resolutely behind him. Just one breath
of fear struck him. He had witnessed a tail dive once at Sill, and over
and over his mind kept repeating, "Keep the tail a little higher than
the head and you won't spin." Ernest smiled to himself as he saw from
Bill's manoeuvers as the flight went on that he had stored away all
the counsel he had listened to. Many a trained aviator never learned to
drive his engine and balance his plane with the cool cleverness and
judgment of this young and untried aeronaut. Ernest commenced to relax
and enjoy himself. If they had no engine accident, there was no reason
to suppose that Bill would wreck the plane.

"Up!" cried Ernest, pointing with his well hand.

Bill responded and the plane again soared aloft.

Here the wind screamed a gale. The plane shot forward, the wires
whistling, the engine drumming, the whole light fabric in which they
rode quivering. Bill's hand on the wheel grew tense; his faculties
seemed on a wire edge. Ernest's guiding hand pointed to the right. Bill
was surprised. He had kept good track of his direction by the aid of the
air compass and felt sure he was going in the right direction.
Nevertheless