"How are you going?" inquired his father, in the gentle, soothing tone
persons use in addressing maniacs.

"Through the air," said Rob.

His father groaned.

"Where's your balloon?" inquired sister Mabel, sarcastically.

"I don't need a balloon," returned the boy. "That's a clumsy way of
traveling, at best. I shall go by electric propulsion."

"Good gracious!" cried Mr. Joslyn, and the mother murmured: "My poor
boy! my poor boy!"

"As you are my nearest relatives," continued Rob, not noticing these
exclamations, "I will allow you to come into the back yard and see me
start. You will then understand something of my electrical powers."

They followed him at once, although with unbelieving faces, and on the
way Rob clasped the little machine to his left wrist, so that his coat
sleeve nearly hid it.

When they reached the lawn at the back of the house Rob kissed them
all good-by, much to his sisters' amusement, and turned the indicator
of the little instrument to the word "up."

Immediately he began to rise into the air.