"I am in the clutch of a
madman! Each morning I am awakened at six, that I may plunge with him
in the lake of cold water attached to the mansion, he having first
made _la boxe_ noisily with a fist ball on the floor directly above.
To-day in his machine he has described figures of eight in the space
of his grounds even, banking the planes at an inclination _affreuse_!"
Again he writes: "I am now to accompany him on a cross-country raid.
Farewell to my wife and little one. I will die like a Montmartrois for
the honor of France!"
Finally an appeal--urgent, pitiful, telegraphic:
"Take me away, _je t'en prie!_ This maniac wishes now to discuss the
possibility of a somersault in the air. I can no more--Georges."
Thereupon I replaced him with another mechanic, and he returned,
appearing worn and noticeably thinner.
"It seems to me, _tout de meme_," I remarked, "that this young
monsieur knows very well what he is about. We have not been asked to
repair a single stick of his machine."
"True," replied Georges. "But that is not his ambition, to break wood.
It was his neck that he wished to break, and incidentally my own.
Wait, my friend, until you have seen him fly. I, who speak to you,
have faced death daily these weeks past, and my clothes hang loose
upon me!"
And I was fated to see this monsieur, also, before very long, on the
occasion of his dramatic appearance upon the grounds of my flying
school. I must explain that Mineola had become a social institution,
for already I taught the younger members of the rich sportsman set
the new diversion that science had placed within their reach.
Pages:
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448