Suddenly a shout came from the edge of the field, and a negro lad vaulted over the fence and ran toward the couple. As he drew near he called:

“Why didn’t yo’ tole me ’bout dis, Harv?”

“I did call at your house for you, but Mr. Hartley said you were asleep.”

“What ob dat? Why didn’t yo’ frow a brick fru de winder and woke me up? Gee! What hab yo’ been trying to do, Harv?”

The newcomer was about the same age as Harvey Hamilton, but taller, broader and larger every way. He was the “bound boy” of a neighbor and had been a playmate of the white youth from early childhood. He was as much interested in aviation as Harvey, and had been trying to build an air machine for himself, or rather helping his friend to construct one, but their failure was so discouraging that they gave it up. What was the sense of attempting such a task when Mr. Hamilton stepped in and bought one of the best of aeroplanes for his son?

Professor Sperbeck had met Bohunkus Johnson, being first attracted by his odd name and then by the willingness and good nature of the colored youth. Bunk, as he was generally called by his acquaintances, was much disappointed because he had not been present earlier, but no one was to blame except himself. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked about the aeroplane, which he had admired upon its arrival, inspecting and trying to understand its workings.

“Hab yo’ flowed?” he asked, abruptly halting and looking at Harvey who retained his seat.

“Not yet.”

“Why doan’ yo’ do so? What’s de use ob fooling round here?”

“Professor Sperbeck thinks I should learn more before leaving the ground. How would you like to try your hand?”

Bohunkus took off his cap and scratched his head.

“I guess I’ll watch yo’ frow flipflaps awhile.”

Harvey turned to the Professor, who shook his head.

“You don’t wish to smash the biplane so soon. You will have enough tumbles without his help. If you are ready you may try it again.”

By this time Harvey had become somewhat accustomed to the sensitiveness of the machine. It required slighter movements of the lever than he had supposed and the response was sometimes quicker than he expected. He understood what his instructor meant by insisting that an aviator should become familiar with his machine.

Bohunkus was asked to hold the rear of the aeroplane until the revolving propeller acquired more velocity. The dusky youth buried his heels in the dirt and held the framework with might and main. The pull rapidly increased, while he put forth all his strength, which was considerable. The Professor gave no help, but trying to keep his face straight, watched things. Despite all he could do, Bunk was compelled to yield a few inches. He still resisted desperately, but while he could not add to his power, the uproarious motor fast did so. Suddenly it made a bound forward, and Bunk sprawled on his face, with his cap flying off. His hold had slipped and the machine shot forward with a speed far greater than any one of the three could have reached.

“Hang de ole thing!” exclaimed Bunk, climbing to his feet and brushing the dust from his clothes; “what’s de use ob it yanking a feller like dat?”

The roaring motor was too near for either of his friends to understand his words, but it was easy to imagine their substance.

When Harvey had completed his circuit of the field, Bunk asked that he might try his hand. He certainly was not lacking in assurance, but the Professor would not consent.

“You might do well, but the chances are you would not. You will get your chance after a time. You may ride with Harvey if you wish.”

With some hesitation, Bunk climbed into the seat behind his friend.

“Am yo’ gwine to go up?” he asked.

“Not at present. Why do you wish to know?”

“So I can jump if yo’ don’t manage things right.”

He grasped one of the supports on either side and braced himself. Naturally he was timid, but it did not seem to him there could be much danger so long as they remained on the ground. Half way round the field, his self-confidence returned, and his dark face was lighted with a broad grin as the machine came to a stop near where the Professor was waiting.

“Why can’t yo’ fly fru de air by staying on de ground?” was the next bright question of Bohunkus; “dat would be as nice as habin’ Christmas come on de fourth ob July, so yo’ could slide down hill barefoot.”

“Suppose I relieve you for awhile,” suggested the instructor. Harvey sprang to the ground and Mr. Sperbeck took his place, indicating, when Bohunkus started to leave his seat, that he should remain.

A few minutes later, the negro received the shock of his life. The Professor allowed the aeroplane to rush over the ground until its speed must have been forty miles an hour. Then he pulled back the lever and it instantly began mounting into the air. Bohunkus did not comprehend what was going on until he was fifty feet aloft and still ascending.

He threw his head to one side and stared at the ground, which appeared to be rushing away from him with dizzying swiftness. For an instant he meditated leaping overboard and catching the earth before it got beyond his reach. He partly rose to his feet, but the distance was too great. He called to the Professor:

“Stop! I doan’ feel well; let me git down. What’s de use ob such foolishness?”

But there was too much uproar for the aviator to hear, and had he caught the words he would have given no attention. Bohunkus in his affright glanced across the field to where Harvey Hamilton was standing with his gaze on the machine. Harvey waved his hand and the simple act did much to bring back the courage of the negro.

“I guess I can stand it as well as him,” was his reflection; “so go ahead.”

The course of Professor Sperbeck might well give the youth a calmness which he could not have felt in other circumstances. He skimmed several miles over the country, rising five or six hundred feet in the air, and attaining a velocity of fifty miles an hour. He had been pleased with the aeroplane on the ride from Garden City, and was still more pleased upon trying it out again. It seemed to have gained a steadiness and sureness which it lacked before.

As has been said, the real test of an aviator’s skill is not in sailing through the air where all is tranquil, but in starting and in landing. Professor Sperbeck had left the ground without the least difficulty and he now came down with the grace and lightness of a bird.

In the afternoon Harvey Hamilton resumed his lessons, the instructor complimenting his proficiency.

“If the conditions are favorable to-morrow, we shall leave the ground with you at the helm,” he assured his pupil, when they gave over the attempts for the day. At the side of the field nearest the house, Mr. Hamilton had had a hangar built into which the aeroplane was run and the door carefully locked. It was natural that the neighbors should show much curiosity in the contrivance, and there was no saying what mischief they might do. Bohunkus felt so much concern on this point that he came over to his friend’s home after the evening meal and joined them on the porch, where Mr. Hamilton was also seated.

“I think,” said Bunk, “that we hadn’t oughter leave dat airyplane by itself.”

“We haven’t,” replied Harvey; “the building is strong and the door locked.”

“But some folks mought bust off de lock and run off wid it; some ob dem people am mighty jealous ob me and yo’, Harv.”

“They are all good friends of ours,” remarked the merchant; “I’m sure nothing is to be feared from them.”

“I hopes not, but I feels oneasy.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Dat some one keeps watch all night.”

“Suppose you do it?”

“I’ll take my turn wid Harv.”

“Very well; when the night is a little farther along, Bunk, you may go out there and stand guard till say about midnight; then come to the house and wake up Harvey, and he will take his turn at playing sentinel.”

“That soots me,” Bunk was quick to say, knowing it would be much easier to keep awake during the first half of the night. So, while the others chatted as the evening wore on, the colored youth rose, yawned, stretched his arms and announced that he would go to his home not far off, tell Mr. Hartley and his wife of the arrangement and then assume his duties at the hangar.

Although he saw no call for all this extra care, Harvey was quite willing to divide the duty with his colored friend, but he meant that Bunk should come to the house and rouse him, for he could not be expected to stay awake. However, the young aviator dreamed so much of flying through the air, and was so absorbed with the entrancing scheme, that he was the first one to wake in his home. He sprang out of bed, as the sun was creeping up the horizon, and lost no time in hurrying out to the hangar to learn why Bohunkus had not called him, though he held a strong suspicion of the real reason.

As Harvey sped around the corner of the low, flat structure, the first object upon which his eyes rested was Bohunkus, stretched out on his back, his mouth open, and breathing loudly, as no doubt he had been doing through most of the night. Harvey left him lying where he was, and rejoined his folks with the story of what he had seen.

An hour later, Professor Sperbeck, accompanied by the merchant and Harvey, walked to the hangar to resume the instruction of the previous day. In the interval, Bohunkus had awakened and gone for his breakfast. He said nothing of his remissness and his friends did not refer to it, since they had more serious matters to hold their attention.

Mr. Hamilton was much pleased with the proficiency shown by his son, but did not stay long, since important business called him to the city. The day was a busy one for the young aviator, who was allowed to make a flight in the afternoon with the watchful Professor seated behind him. He had very few suggestions to make.

When Harvey came down to earth, he bumped rather energetically, but no harm was done, and on the third trial no criticism was made. Two more days were spent in practice and then the instructor said:

“You are prepared to make as long a voyage through the air as you wish, and without any assistance from me.”