again, you’ll most likely crash. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”
Both boys nodded; actually it was all a puzzle to them. Paul remarked, “Gosh, Major, it must be wonderful to be a pilot.”
“It isn’t such a bad job.”
“Do you think we could learn to fly?” inquired Jack.
“Of course. Anybody could.”
“Could you teach us?” Jack was anxious.
“Certainly. But I imagine you’d first have to get permission from your parents. I don’t suppose either one of you is eighteen or over.”
The boys shook their heads dejectedly. “I’m only seventeen and a half,” Jack said.
“I’m going to be eighteen the fifteenth of next month”—that from Paul.
Major McCarthy looked up. Somebody over at the hangar was calling to him and motioning for him to come over. “Well, I have to go now. Let’s get out of the plane.” Walking back toward the hangers, the major said, “Come around again one of these days and if I have time I’ll take you up.”
“Gee, wouldn’t that be swell,” Paul cried. “You really mean it?”
“Of course.”
Jack was eager. “How about tomorrow?” he asked.
Major McCarthy nodded. “Okey” he said, “but I must ask you boys to obtain permission of your parents. Otherwise I won’t do it.”
“That’s a bargain,” said Paul. “If my dad or mother object I’ll tell you the truth.”
“Same here,” chimed in his chum.
“All right then, I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”
Waving their hands to the Major, they took their bicycles and walked off the field.
CHAPTER II
Peddling back to town, their minds were in the clouds. Each one was thinking how wonderful it would be to learn to fly, to be a pilot and fly all over the country, perhaps all over the world. And when they thought of the adventure that was in store for them, their hearts swelled with joy and their pulses missed a couple of beats. Paul, who was riding behind, pulled up alongside of his chum, and asked, “Do you think we ought to tell the boys about it?”
“You mean about our coming over here?” Jack queried.
“Yes.”
“Why not? They would certainly be very much interested and there’s no reason why we can’t tell them.”
Paul mused for a moment. Then he said, “But if we tell them that the Major promised to take us up tomorrow, then the whole gang will come out here and want to be taken up. Then perhaps he won’t take any one of us up.”
“I never thought of that,” Jack said. “But then I suppose—” He didn’t finish his sentence because he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to hold anything back from the boys, yet he thought it was rather selfish on his part not to let them in on it. The same thoughts were going through Paul’s head. They were both fine chaps and ready to share with their friends not only their thoughts, adventures but even their most personal things. But the idea of going up in the air, of actually flying in a real airplane, stunned them. And they naturally hated to be deprived of their forthcoming joyous adventure. Finally, Jack said, “I don’t know, but I think we ought to tell them.”
Paul’s face lit up. “That’s just what I was thinking,” he told his chum.
That off their chests, they wheeled into town briskly. On Main Street, they caught sight of Arline Blair. They jumped off their bikes as they pulled up alongside of her. “Hello, Arline,” both boys cried out.
She was about a year younger than the boys and one of the prettiest girls in town. “Hello,” she said. “Where are you boys coming from? You’re so flushed and look so happy, I wonder what you fellows were up to.”
“We were over to the airport,” Paul told her.
“Really?” She opened her eyes wide with astonishment.
Jack blurted out, “Sure. And we’re going to learn how to fly and be pilots.”
“Both of us,” added Paul.
Arline pursed her lips. “Isn’t it glorious just to think of it!” she remarked.
The boys stuck their chests out. “It certainly is,” both agreed.
Paul asked, “Which way are you going, Arline?”
“Home.”
“Take you there on my handle bars.”
Jack interrupted, “Perhaps Miss Blair would prefer to ride on my handle bars.”
Arline shook her head. “No. It isn’t very nice for a young lady to ride on handle bars,” she remarked coolly.
“But you used to do it and like it too,” insisted Paul.
“Yes, that’s right,” echoed Jack, “you used to ask me to give you rides.”
Miss Blair raised her chin several inches. “My childhood days are over, gentlemen. Good day Mr. Morrison, and you, Mr. Stormways.” And with that continued her walk down the street, every inch of her a queen.
Jack and Paul looked at each other puzzled, speechless. Paul shrugged his shoulders and put his hand out. Seriously and affectionately they shook hands, jumped on their bikes and were off again.
When the two boys arrived at the meeting place, they found their chums, members of their Patrol, waiting for them. All were dressed in Scout uniforms. The Carberry twins—Wallace and William—were there; so were Bluff Shipley, Bobolink (Robert Oliver Link), Nuthin’ (Albert Cypher), and Ken Armstrong. Just as soon as Paul and Jack came in sight, the boys set up a howl. “Hey, where have you guys been?”
“We’ve been waiting an hour for you fellows.”
“What’s the idea of keeping us waiting like this?”
“You fellows must be up to some mischief.”
Paul and Jack looked at each other and smiled. Paul held up his hand and the boys quieted down considerably. “Would you care to know where we’ve been?”
“Of course.”
“Certainly.”
“Come on, Paul, tell us.”
“Hey, Jack, don’t hold back on us.”
Jack, to tantalize his friends, turned to Paul and asked, “Do you think we ought to tell them?”
“Hey, how do you get that way?”
Wallace began jumping up and down. “You better tell us,” he cried, “or we’ll roast you.”
“Roast
