thanked Webby and asked him what he would like best--a
payment of money or a flight.

"Druther fly," said Webby promptly, laying down his rifle and starting
toward the car.

"I can't fly it myself now," said Ernest, "but when the other boy comes
down from the house he will give you a little turn. If we had time, we
could stay here for a day or so. This is the finest field for landing
that I have seen in a long time. But we are in a great hurry, and all we
can do for you to-night is to give you a short spin."

When Bill came down, his eyes heavy with sleep, he found Webby
restlessly pacing up and down before the car, and a silent, attentive
crowd of natives waiting to see what was going to happen. Webby's
parents did not know enough about aviation to feel any fear for their
son, and watched with unspeakable delight as Ernest with his one arm and
Bill with his two sound ones, pulled the plane around to face the wind,
settled Webby in his seat and started the engine.

"Don't go more than fifty feet above the ground, and keep over the field
if you can," whispered Ernest in Bill's ear.

"Aren't you going up?" asked Bill.

"No use; you can manage it all right," said Ernest, "and I will stay
here and keep an eye on Frank. He needs watching. He would lose himself
in the swamp for a cent. He is in a bad state of mind. I hope he is,
too. Perhaps he will come to realize what he has done."

"I hope so," said Bill. "Can't we leave as soon as I give that kid a
turn? I want to get along. It seems as though we were hanging around
here an awful while."

"Land over by the bars if you can," said Ernest. "It will be fun to see
this outfit scamper over, and besides it will be closer to the gasoline
tank."

"All right," replied Bill, tuning up the engine. He skimmed along the
field while a wild, shrill shout went up from the observers. They
commenced to trail excitedly after, and stood hopping up and down and
tossing their hats in excitement as the graceful car left the ground and
sailed smoothly into the air. Bill found that flying, rising and
lighting the second time was much easier than the first. He had lost
what little awkwardness he had had in the beginning, and the machine
moved with a smooth freedom. He wished that he had eyes in the back of
his head so he could see Webby. But if he _had_ seen Webby, he would not
have laughed. Webby, watching the old familiar earth drop away, felt
exalted; he felt as though he had suddenl