Famous Flyers and Their Famous Flights. Wright Jack
got to see my models, too. Imade a Spirit of St. Louis the year that Lindyflew across the Atlantic. Of course itisn’t as good as my later ones. Say, we’regoing to have a swell time, aren’t we?” Atthat moment Bob knew that he and Halwere going to be good friends.
And good friends they were. There werea great many things about Hal that annoyedBob no end at first. Hal was, without adoubt, his mother’s boy. He was afraid ofthings – things that the fearless Bob took forgranted. He was afraid of the dark – afraidof getting his feet wet – afraid of stayingtoo late and worrying his mother. And thenhe was awkward. Bob tried gradually toinitiate him into masculine sports – but itirked him to watch Hal throw a ball like agirl, or swim like a splashing porpoise. Buthe had to admit that Hal tried. And whenhe got better at things, it was fun teachinghim. Bob felt years older than his pupil, and gradually came to take a protective attitudetoward him that amused his mother.
Mrs. Martin smiled one day when Bobcomplained about Hal’s awkwardness incatching a ball. “Well,” she said, “you maybe teaching Hal things, but he’s teaching you, too, and you should be grateful to him.”
“What’s he teaching me?” asked Bob, surprised.
“I notice, Bob, that you’re reading agreat deal more than you ever have. I thinkthat that’s Hal’s influence.”
“Oh, that,” said Bob, “why, we readthe lives of the famous flyers, that’s all. Why, that’s fun. That’s not reading.”
Mrs. Martin smiled again, and kept hercustomary silence.
The strange friendship, founded on thelove of airplanes, flourished. The boys werealways together, and had invented anelaborate system of signals to communicate witheach other at such times as they weren’t withone another. Two crossed flags meant“Come over at once.” One flag with a blackball on it meant “I can’t come over.” Theseflags, usually limp and bedraggled by theelements horrified the parents of both Boband Hal when they saw them hanging invarious intricate designs out of windows andon bushes and trees in the garden. But sincethey seemed necessary to the general schemeof things, they were allowed to go unmolested, even in the careful Gregg household.
The friendship had weathered a summer,a school year, and was now entering theboys’ summer vacation again. It was at thebeginning of this vacation that Bob whistledto Hal and called to him to come down tohear his wonderful news.
“Well,” said Hal, “spill the news.” Itmust be said of Hal that he tried even tomaster the language of the real boy in hiseducation as a good sport.
“Bill’s coming,” said Bob, trying to hidehis excitement, but not succeeding very well.
“What?” shouted Hal.
“Sure, Captain Bill’s coming to spend thesummer with us. He’s flying here in hisown plane.”
“Oh, golly,” said Hal, and could say nomore.
Captain Bill was the boys’ patron saint.It had been through his uncle Bill that BobMartin had developed his mania for flying.Captain Bill Hale was Bob’s mother’s youngestbrother, the adventurous member of thefamily, who had enlisted in the Canadianarmy when he was eighteen, at the outbreakof the war. When the United States joinedthe big battle, he had gone into her air corpsto become one of the army’s crack flyers, with plenty of enemy planes and blimps tohis credit. A crash had put him out of commissionat the end of the war, but had notdulled his ardor for flying. For years hehad flown his own plane both for commercialand private reasons.
As Bob’s hero, he had always written tothe boy, telling him of his adventures, encouraginghim in his desire to become an aviator.He had never found the time actuallyto visit for any length of time with his sisterand her family, but had dropped downfrom the sky on them suddenly and unexpectedlyevery so often.
But now, as Bob explained carefully toHal, he was coming for the whole summer, and was going to teach him, Bob, to fly.
“Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy,” Bob chortled,“what a break! Captain Bill herefor months, with nothing to do but fly usaround.”
Hal did not seem to share his friend’s enthusiasm.“Fly us around? Not us, Bob, old boy – you. My mother will never letme go up.” Hal’s face clouded.
Bob slapped him on the back. “Oh, don’tyou worry. Your mother will let you fly.She’s let you do a lot of things with methat she never let you do before. We’ll gether to come around.”
But Hal looked dubious. “Not that, I’mafraid. She’s scared to death of planes, andgets pale if I even mention flying. Butthat’s all right. I’ll do my flying on theground. You and Bill will have a greattime.”
“Buck up,” said Bob. “Don’t cross yourbridges until you come to them. We’ll workon your mother until she thinks that flyingis the safest thing in the world. And it is, too. We’ll let Captain Bill talk to her. Hecan make anybody believe anything. He’llhave her so thoroughly convinced that she’llbe begging him to take you up in the air tosave your life. See if he doesn’t! Bill isgreat!”
Hal was visibly improved in spirits.“When’s Bill coming in?” he asked.
“Six tonight,” said Bob. “Down at theairport. Dad says that he’ll drive us bothout there so that we can meet Captain Bill, and drive him back. Gee, wouldn’t it begreat if he had an autogyro and could landin our back yard?”
“Maybe he’ll have one the next time hecomes. What kind of plane is he flying?”
“His new Lockheed. It’s a monoplane, hesays, and painted green, with a reddish nose.It’s green because his partner, Pat, wantedit green. Pat’s been his buddy since theywere over in France together, and anythingthat Pat says, goes. It’s got two cockpits, and dual controls. It’s just great for teachingbeginners. That means us, Hal, old boy.Listen, you’d better get ready. Dad will behome soon, and will want to start down forthe port. Say, does that sound like thunder?”
The boys listened. It did sound likethunder. In fact, it was thunder. “Golly,I hope it doesn’t storm. Mother won’t letme go if it rains.”
Bob laughed. “I wouldn’t worry aboutyou getting wet if it stormed,” he said.“What about Bill, right up in the clouds?Of course, he can climb over the storm if it’snot too bad. But you hurry anyhow. We’llprobably get started before it rains, anyway.”
At ten minutes to six Hal, Bob and Bob’sfather were parked at the airport, their necksstretched skyward, watching the darkening, clouded skies for the first hint of a greenmonoplane. No green monoplane did theysee. A few drops of rain splattered down, then a few more, and suddenly the outburstthat had been promising for hours poureddown. Bob’s father, with the aid of the twoboys, put up the windows of the car, andthey sat fairly snug while the rain teemeddown about them. The field was becomingsodden. Crashes of lightning and peals ofthunder seemed to flash and roll all aboutthem. All of the airplanes within easydistance of their home port had come winginghome like birds to an enormous nest. Thethree watchers scanned each carefully, butnone was the green Lockheed of Captain Bill.
The time passed slowly. Six-thirty; thenseven. Finally Mr. Martin decided that theycould wait no longer. “He’s probably landedsome place to wait for the storm to lift,”he said. “He can take a taxi over to thehouse when he gets in.”
Reluctant to leave, the boys neverthelessdecided that they really couldn’t wait allnight in the storm for Captain Bill, andso they started for home.
Very wet, and bedraggled, and very, very, hungry, they arrived. Hal’s mother was practicallyhysterical, met him at the door, anddrew him hastily into the house.
Mr. Martin and his son ran swiftly fromthe garage to the back door of their house, but were soaked before they got in. Enteringthe darkened kitchen, they could hearvoices inside.
“Doesn’t that sound like – why, it is – that’sBill’s voice,” shouted Bob. The lightswitched on, and Bill and Mrs. Martin cameinto the kitchen to greet their prodigal relatives.
“Hello,” said Bill, “where have you peoplebeen? You seem to be wet. Shake on it.”
“Well,