due to the collapse of sustaining planes, control-surfaces, or
some other vital part of a machine. And this risk of breakage in the
air was increased, in many cases, by the building of experimental
machines by men who had no qualifications for their task, and who
erred only too frequently, in their desire to attain lightness, on the
side of a lack, rather than an excess, of structural strength.

There are many cases, unfortunately, that might be cited; but one may
be sufficient here. A man with an idea for a light type of biplane, a
machine designed mainly for speed, had an experimental craft
built--this was in the pioneer days of 1909--and insisted on fitting
to it a motor of considerable power. It was pointed out to him that
his construction was not sufficiently strong, in view of the speed at
which his machine would pass through the air. But he was of the quiet,
determined, self-opinionated type, who pursued his own way and said
little. He did not strengthen his constructional, and he began a
series of flying tests. In the first of these, which were short, the
planes stood up to their work, and the fears of the critics seemed
groundless. But a day came when, venturing to some height, the aviator
encountered a strong and gusty wind; whereupon one of his main-planes
broke, and he fell to his death.

As a contrast to this tragedy, and a welcome one, there is a humorous
story, that is true, told of one experimenter. His knowledge of
construction was small, but what he lacked in this respect he made up
for in confidence; and he built a monoplane. This was in the days just
after the cross-Channel flight, and experimenters all over the world
were building monoplanes, some of them machines of the weirdest
description. The craft built by this enthusiast seemed all right in
its appearance; nothing had been spared, for instance, in the way of
varnish. When wheeled into the sun, for its first rolling test under
power, it looked an imposing piece of work. Friends were in attendance,
photographers also; and the would-be aviator was in faultless flying
gear. Mounting a ladder, which had been placed beside the machine, he
allowed his weight to bear upon the fusilage, and proceeded to settle
himself in his seat. But he, and the onlookers, were startled as he
did so by an ominous cracking of wood. It grew louder; something
serious and very unexpected was happening to the machine. As a matter
of fact, and just as it stood there witho