for the landing. The plane touched the water lightly, sped along a few yards and stopped beside a long pier.

“Are we here?” Mr. Fenton asked.

“Yes sir. How do you like air traveling?”

“It’s wonderful, but I did almost get heart failure when the motor stopped,” he admitted.

“Begun to wish you had brought your rubbers?”

“My rubbers and a boat.”

“Is this place near enough?”

“Plenty.” Jim helped him out of the straps, and by that time Bob stepped over the fuselage to give a hand.

“Glad you didn’t try to jump over, Uncle Norman. How are your air-legs, wobbly?”

“A bit cramped.” He stretched them both, found they would work, and in a moment he mounted the boat pier. “I don’t expect to be more than half an hour.”

“We’ll wait here,” Jim promised.

“Oh, look at the hydroplane,” shouted a small boy on the shore.

“They are calling Her Highness names,” Bob scowled.

“She’s a hydroplane for the minute,” Jim replied. “Let’s taxi around the water.”

“It’s getting kind of rough. Up at North Hero it was as smooth as a sheet,” Bob answered. “Wish I knew more about water and its tricks.”

“I think we’re going to have a blow,” Jim speculated as Her Highness went rocking over the waves.

“There are some black clouds over south and west and they sure do look as if they are in a hurry. We’ll have them on our tail as we go back. Got plenty of gas? I read that in some places Lake Champlain is three hundred feet deep, and it’s wet clear to the bottom,” said Bob.

“There’s an extra tank besides what is in the bus. Guess I’ll feed her up. Somehow, I think a nice Texas desert is pleasanter to land on than water.” Jim busied himself with the task and Bob helped look things over.

 Prev. P 18/105 next