Читать книгу Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in France and Belgium. Or, Saving the Fortunes of the Trouvilles онлайн

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With whirring motor stilled, the great bird for a moment hovered over the parade ground, then glided to the earth, ran for a short distance along the ground and stopped a few feet from the admiring circle.

“That’s a pair for you!” repeated Colonel McCready, as he reached for the shoulders of the youth whose master hand had set the planes for the exquisitely exact landing and gave a kindly nod to the young companion of the pilot.

“I’ll wager,” continued the colonel delightedly, “that it was a painless cutting of Texas air, this flight; too fast to stick anywhere. Fifty-five miles in sixty minutes, or better, I think, and just a couple of kids—size them up, gentlemen—Mr. William Thomas Barry and Mr. Henri Armond Trouville.”

Billy Barry adroitly climbed out of the little cockpit behind the rudder wheel and patiently submitted to the colonel’s hearty slaps on the back. Billy never suffered from nerves—he never had any nerves, only “nerve,” as his Uncle Jacob up in the land where the spruce comes from used to say. Billy’s uncle furnished the seasoned wood for aëroplane building, and Billy’s brother Joe was boss of the factory where the flyers are made. Billy knew the business from the ground up, and down, too, it might be added.