“Oh, the boy’s all right,” exclaimed Mr. Osborne. “I don’t know as I like to have him do it, but, as far as ability is concerned, he knows as much as a good many who have been at it longer.”
He had already called out to Roy to come down, and the car, with power shut off, was fluttering to the ground, some yards away.
The two men advanced to the landed machine.
Roy, his sober face showing just a little flush of pride in his first real flight, was attempting to look unconcerned as Mr. Atkinson came up to him and patted him on the back.
“Very well done, my boy,” exclaimed the manager. “Didn’t frighten you, did it?”
“I was only worried about that string,” answered Roy. “It kept snappin’ like the tail of a kite.”
The workmen were already moving the car to the shed, and Mr. Osborne was following them, when the manager called him back.
“Osborne,” he said, laying a hand on Roy’s shoulder, “are you really willing for your boy to turn professional aviator?”
“Seems to have made a pretty good start already,” was the non-committal answer.
“That’ll be all right,” broke in Roy, with a smile. “He’ll be willing. At least, he says it isn’t any more dangerous than runnin’ an automobile. May I have a job, Mr. Atkinson?”
The manager’s answer was to invite the boy and his father into his private office. There, after a little more discussion of the matter of Roy’s engagement, Mr. Atkinson drew out the Utah prospector’s memorandum, and, with a good deal of formality, told the details of his interview with Mr. Cook, and of the latter’s provisional purchase of an aeroplane.
“And now,” he concluded, “of course, the making of that sale or the loss of it don’t mean a great deal. But I’d like to make it. You can guess why?” he added, turning to Mr. Osborne.
“Be a good ad, of course,” answered the engineer.
“Yes, all of that,” exclaimed Mr. Osborne. “But I’ve got just enough interest in Roy to want to have him take the job.”
“I could see that comin’,” exclaimed Mr. Osborne, with a somewhat rueful smile. “We’re much obliged--both of us--but--” and he shook his head slowly in the negative.
“He don’t mean it,” spoke up Roy with alacrity, as he arose and hastened to Mr. Atkinson’s side.
“We’ve only got to persuade mother; then he’ll consent. He’ll be proud to have me go,” he added with a sudden smile.