Famous Flyers Part 4

Mrs. Martin's brow wrinkled. "I think you've taken the easier task," she said with a wry smile. "I'd much rather teach a boy to overcome his fears than teach a mother to overcome hers. But I'll try," she added, and hoped against hope for success.

Bob burst into the room. "How about something to eat?" he said. "I'm starved!"

"As usual," said his mother. "I would like to hear you just once complain about being not hungry."

"All right, mother," said Bob. "If you want to hear me complain about that, you just feed me a good dinner now, and I'll do my best to complain about being not hungry-after I finish it."

"You're an impossible son," said his mother, but smiled fondly at him.

She really didn't believe it.

CHAPTER IV-Some War Heroes

Whether secret springs were put into operation by Mrs. Martin that afternoon or not, nevertheless Hal was able to join the party going to the airport early the next morning. It was a beautiful morning. It had stopped raining, and the sun, coming out strong and bright, had dried everything so thoroughly that only an occasional puddle here and there on the road showed that it had rained at all. The drive to the port was pleasant, too; the port being about a mile out of town, and at least five miles from the Martin home.

When they arrived, the day's program was in full sway. A huge tri-motored plane was loading pa.s.sengers for a cross-country trip. As the three approached the port, they saw the great plane rise into the air and take off exactly on schedule. Smaller planes were flying about above the airport, and on the ground mechanics were working over several planes that needed overhauling. Captain Bill wanted to go first to the administration building, a large white brick structure, modern as any office building in appearance. He wanted to see the head of the airport, an old friend of his, and make the final arrangements for the care of his plane when it came in.

As they were about to enter the building, a tall, heavy-set man pa.s.sed them, on his way out. Captain Bill started, and half turned. "Well, if that didn't look like-" he began, then turned and went on into the building. "Looked like an old flying buddy of mine. But of course, it couldn't be. Old Hank never was that fat. Never had an ounce of fat on him. All skin and bone. But you never can tell, eh, boys?"

"You'll be getting there yourself, some day, be careful," laughed Bob.

John Headlund, delighted to see Captain Bill, jumped up from his desk, and pumped his hands up and own. "If it isn't the Captain! Man, it's great to see you again!" Headlund and Bill had flown together in France, and although they had kept in touch with each other a few years after they had returned to America, the press of business had kept them apart, and they had not seen each other for years. Captain Bill presented the boys.

"They're going to bring new business for you, Headlund," said Bill.

"Here are two of America's future flyers."

The boys grinned.

Headlund, after wis.h.i.+ng them success, turned again to Bill. "Do you see any of the old boys?" he asked.

"Pat McDermott's my partner," said Bill. "He's flying the old boat in this afternoon sometime."

"He is! That's great! And quite a coincidence, too. Do you know who was here-left just before you came in?"

"Not Hank Brown!" shouted Bill. "By golly, I thought I recognized that face! Old Hank! What was he doing here?"

"He's got a s.h.i.+p down here in one of our hangars. It's a beauty-a four pa.s.senger cabin plane, with the pilot's seat up front-a beautiful job.

Listen, Hank's gone down to the hangar now to look it over. Maybe you can catch him down there. It's Avenue B, the last hangar in line."

"Great. I'd like to see Hank. Last time I saw him he was in an English hospital, eating porridge and not liking it at all. Who would have thought that the old skinny marink would have put on all that poundage?

Old Hank fat! And flying in a cabin plane. Come on, fellows, we've got to go down there and see him." He turned to Headlund. "I'm going to be in town all summer, Heady, and I guess you'll be seeing plenty of me.

What street did you say? Avenue B?"

Captain Bill and the boys hurried out, found the right road, and walked along it until they came to the last hangar. A beautiful plane, black and aluminum, stood outside. But as they approached, there was n.o.body to be seen.

"Ahoy, there!" shouted Bill. "Anybody here know Hank Brown?"

Hank himself appeared from the other side of the plane, where he had been conferring with a mechanic. "I'm Henry Brown," he said, peering from behind gold-rimmed gla.s.ses at Bill and the boys. His face registered no sign of recognition at first. Then suddenly it lighted up, he rushed forward, and gripped Captain Bill's hand in his, slapping him heartily on the back with the other. "Well, Bill! You old sock! Where on earth did you come from? What are you doing here? Where have you been?"

Bill, delighted to see his old buddy, laughed at him, and poked him in his now well-padded ribs. "One question at a time, Hank. What are you doing here? And how come you've got this grand s.h.i.+p?" asked Bill.

"I asked you first," laughed Hank.

They spent the next ten minutes telling each other just what they had been doing since their last meeting. They spared the details, but each was satisfied with the other's story. Hank had done well as the manager and later as president of his father's steel plant. Prosperity had ironed out the wrinkles that had always twinkled around his steely grey eyes, and contentment had added inches to his waistline, but he was still the same generous, fun-loving Hank that the boys had known in France.

"Listen," said Hank. "Come on in and try the plane. See how comfortable it is. Say, this is some different from the old rattletraps we used to fly, isn't it?"

"But we had some good thrills in them, didn't we," said Bill. This meeting with Hank was bringing back memories that had not stirred in him for many years.

"Let's get in here where we can talk in comfort," said Hank.

They mounted a little step that the mechanic set for them, and entered the side door of the plane. The inside was amazingly luxurious. Along both sides were upholstered seats, covered with multi-colored cus.h.i.+ons.

There were built-in fixtures, and everything to make for the greatest ease in traveling. The pilot's seat could be part.i.tioned off by a gla.s.s sliding door up front.

The three men sat down on the seats at the side of the cabin. "Gee, they're soft," said Bob. "I could ride all day on these." He jumped up and down a little.

"Remember your manners," said Bill.

Bob stopped jumping and blushed. "Oh, I forgot," he said. He had really forgotten that Hank Brown was an important man, a millionaire. But Hank only laughed.

"How would you people like to take the plane up on its last ride this year?" he asked.

"The last ride?" said Bill. "Why the last?"

"Well, I'm putting her away," said Hank. "That's what I was talking to the mechanic and Headlund about. I was going to spend my summer up in my log cabin in Canada, fis.h.i.+ng, and all that. But my wife wants to go to Europe instead. She's going to take the two girls over to France and leave them there in school. That would mean she'd have to come back all alone. I've been intending to go back to take a look around ever since I've been back in America, so I thought I'd take the opportunity of getting over there now with her. I wouldn't take the plane. I won't need a big s.h.i.+p like this. If I want to fly I can pick up a little French or German bus. So I'm putting old Lizzie in the hangar. Seems a shame. But how would you like to go up now? Would you like to try her out?" he asked Bill. "Would I?" said Bill. He slid into the pilot's seat, and looked over the instrument board, to familiarize himself with the instruments with which the plane was equipped. Then he turned back to the boys. "Want to go up?"

Bob was almost beside himself with excitement. "Take her up, Bill go on," he squealed. "Sure we want to go up. Go ahead, Bill."

Hal said nothing. His face was pale. Bill thought that it would be best to ignore him, and just take it for granted that he wanted to go up, too. And Hal, although he was by this time frightened to death, would not admit it. He decided to risk the going up rather than say that he was afraid.

The mechanic taxied the plane out into the open and took away the steps.

Bill pressed the starter, and the great propeller began to move. Slowly the s.h.i.+p rolled over the ground, gradually gaming momentum. Finally it rose into the air. Bill handled the huge s.h.i.+p as though it were a toy.

Higher and higher it rose. Bob, looking out of the window, saw the building of the airport whizzing by below them, then disappear into a whirling ma.s.s. Were they going? Were they standing still? Bob couldn't tell.

"How high are we?" he shouted at the top of his voice to Hank.

"About 5,000 feet," judged Hank. He was looking over at Hal rather anxiously. He thought that maybe the boy was going to be sick. But Hal manfully hung on, and said nothing.

"We seem to be standing still," shouted Bob.

"We're going, all right. Your uncle is a great one for speed!" shouted back Hank.

The plane was banking now for a turn. They were going back. In a short while Bill had brought the plane down once more into the airport.

"Well, how did you like it?" he said, turning around in his pilot's seat.