CHAPTER II-Captain Bill

Hal couldn't come right over. He had to be fussed over, steamed, dosed, and put to bed so that he would suffer no ill effects from his soaking that evening. But he was over bright and early the next morning. It had rained all night, and was still raining in a quiet, steady downpour, when Hal appeared at the Martin home, dressed in rubbers, raincoat, m.u.f.fler, and carrying an umbrella to protect him on his long trek from his own front door to his friend's. Captain Bill would have been startled at the strangely bundled figure of Hal, but he had been warned, and greeted Hal without a blink of an eyelash. In fact, as soon as Hal had been unwrapped from his many coverings, and had spoken to them all, Captain Bill discovered that he was probably going to like this boy after all, and was pleased that his nephew had such good judgment in choosing a friend and companion.

They talked that morning, of course, about airplanes, and the boys told how they had been reading about the famous flyers, and of their hopes to be flyers themselves some day. Bill had been a good listener, and had said very little, but after lunch Hal said what had been on his chest for a long time.

"Captain Bill, we've been doing all the talking. Why don't you tell us a story?"

The Captain laughed. "I think that Bob's heard all my stories. I'm afraid that they're a little moth-eaten now. But how about the two of you telling me a story? Some of the things that you've been reading so carefully. How about it?"

"We can't tell a story the way you can, old scout," said Bob. "Anyway, we asked you first."

"All right, I'm caught," said the Captain. "But I'll tell you a story only on one condition. Each of you has to tell one too. That's only fair, isn't it?"

Bob and Hal looked at each other. Hal spoke. "I'm afraid I won't be able to," he said, blushing. "I can't tell stories, I'm sure I can't."

Captain Bill knew that it would be tactless at that moment to try to convince Hal that he could tell a story. It would only increase the boy's nervousness, and convince him only more of the fact that he could not spin a yarn. So he said, "Well, we'll tell ours first, and you can tell yours later. After you hear how bad ours are, you'll be encouraged." Then Bill had an idea. "How about having a contest?" he said. "The one who tells the best story gets a prize."

"What prize?" asked Bob quickly.

"Now, you take your time. We'll decide on the prize later. We'll have to let Pat in on this, too, I suppose, but he's going to give us some compet.i.tion. Pat's a great story teller. I'll tell my story first. Then Bob can tell his, after he's had some time for preparation; then Pat will probably want to get his licks in; and Hal will come last. He'll have the benefit of our mistakes to guide him. How about it?"

"All right with me," said Bob, eagerly. He was keen about the idea.

But Hal seemed less enthusiastic. His natural reticence, he felt, would make it torture for him to tell a story. It would be all right just for Bob-and he was even getting well enough acquainted with Captain Bill to tell his story in front of him-but this Pat McDermott-even his name sounded formidable. Captain Bill didn't give him a chance to say aye, yea, or nay, but went on talking.

"I think that we ought to choose subjects that you two know about," said Bill. "How about stories of the aviators-of Famous Flyers and their Famous Flights?"

"Great!" said Bob. "Gee, I want Lindbergh."

"Lindbergh you shall have," said Captain Bill. "What's yours Hal?"

"I don't know," said Hal. "I'll have to think it over. But-I think that I'd like to take the life of Floyd Bennett-if I may."

"Of course," said Bill. "I think that I'll tell about Admiral Byrd-do you think he'd make a good story?"

"Marvelous!" said Bob, with his usual enthusiasm. "What'll we leave for Pat?"

"Pat can take whomever he wants to take," the Captain said. "He'll have to take what's left. That's what he gets for coming late. But what do you say we wait to start the contest when Pat comes?"

"Yes, oh, yes, I think that that would be much better," said Hal, relieved that the ordeal would at least be postponed, even if it could not be avoided altogether. "I think that we ought to wait until Mr.

McDermott comes."

The Captain laughed. "Don't let him hear you call him 'Mr. McDermott'"

he said. "He's Pat to everybody, and to you, too."

"I'll try to remember," said Hal, miserably, thinking of what a complicated world this was.

It was still raining outside. The boys and the Captain, seated in the library, or rather, sprawled in the library, could see the streams of rain splash against the windows and run down in little rivers until they splashed off again at the bottom of the pane.

Captain Bill yawned and stretched. "Not much to do on a day like this.

I'm mighty anxious to get out to the airport as soon as it clears up.

What'll we do?"

Bob had an idea. "Couldn't we sort of sneak one over on Pat?" he said.

"Couldn't we have a story, one not in the contest, now? It wouldn't count, really, and it would give us a little rehearsal before Pat gets here."

"Who's going to tell this story?" asked Captain Bill, looking just a bit suspiciously at his nephew.

Bob grinned. "Well, I thought that maybe you would. Seeing that you're the best story-teller anyway."

"Go long with your blarney. But I guess I will tell you one. It will be a sort of prologue to the rest of our stories. It's about the very first flyers and the very first famous flight."

"The Wrights?" asked Hal.

"The Wrights," said the Captain. "Wilbur and Orville, and their first flight at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina."

CHAPTER III-The Wright Brothers

The Captain had first to fill his pipe, and stretch his legs before he began his story.

"Of course," he said, "we can't really say that the Wrights were the first men to fly, or to build a machine that would fly. Even in the middle ages Leonardo da Vinci drew up plans for a flying machine. Just before the Wright's experiment Langley had stayed up in the air in a machine invented and built by himself. If he had not died at so unfortunate a period in his experimental life, perhaps he might have been the inventor of the airplane.

"The Wrights invented the airplane in the same degree that Thomas Edison invented the electric light. Men had experimented with both inventions for many years. But it took the genius of the Wrights, the genius of an Edison to bring together these experiments, to think through logically just wherein they were right and where they were wrong, and to add the brilliant deductions that brought their experiments to a practical and successful end. Edison's discovery was dependent upon the finding of the proper filament for his bulb; the Wrights' success hinged upon their discovery of the warped wing, which gave them control over their plane.

"The fact that the Wrights were not the first to fly does not detract from the thing that they actually did. At the time that they were making their first flying machine, any man who tampered with the subject of flying through the air was looked upon as crazy. And this was not more than a quarter of a century ago. Seems funny, doesn't it? But they were not to be discouraged. They knew that they were right, and they went ahead. They had many set-backs. Their planes were wrecked. What did they do? They just built them over again, and were glad that they had learned of some new defect that they could re-design and correct.

"You notice that I always talk of 'the Wrights' as though they were one person; everybody does. In fact, they almost were one person. They were always together; lived together, played together, although they didn't play much, being a serious pair, and worked together. They never quarreled, never showed any jealousy of each other, never claimed the lion's share of praise in the invention. They were just 'the Wrights,'

quiet, retiring men, who did much and talked little.

"From early childhood it was the same. Wilbur Wright, the elder of the two, was born in Milville, Indiana, and lived there until he was three years old with his parents, Milton Wright, bishop of the United Brethren Church, and Susan Katherine Wright. In 1870 the family moved to Dayton, Ohio, and in 1871 Orville Wright was born. From a very early age the two were drawn to each other. Their minds and desires were similar.

"When Wilbur decided that he would rather go to work after being graduated from High School, Orville decided that he, too, would give up his formal education, and devote himself to mechanics.

"They were born mechanics, always building miniature machines that actually worked. They did not stop studying, but took to reading scientific works that were of more help to them than formal education.

In this way they learned printing, and built themselves a printing press out of odds and ends that they a.s.sembled. On this they began to publish a little newspaper, but they gave this up when another opportunity presented itself.

"Bicycles were coming in at that time, and the Wright brothers set up a little shop to repair them. From the repair shop they developed a factory in which they manufactured bicycles themselves. Their business was very successful, and they were looked upon as young men who were likely to get along in the world. This was in 1896.

"That year Otto Lilienthal, a famous German experimenter, was killed in his glider, just at the peak of his career. Wilbur read an account of his death in the newspaper, and discussed it with his brother. The event renewed the interest that they had always had in flying, and they set about studying all of the books that they could find on the problem of flight. They soon exhausted all that they could get, and decided that their groundwork had been laid. From then on their work was practical, and they discovered principles that had never been written, and which resulted in the first flight.