"As if that could really occur!" murmured William Philander Tubbs,
with a lofty look of, disdain.

"Sure it could happen," returned Spud, good-naturedly. Why, I heard of
an airman who went up once and forgot how to turn his machine down,
and he went around and around in a circle for sixteen hours. And then
he dropped ker-plunk right on top of a baker's wagon and smashed
twenty-six pies-- all because his gasoline gave out."

"Ridiculous!" murmured William Philander.

"Absolute fact, Tubbs," responded Spud, earnestly. "Come with me, some
day, and I'll show you where the pies made a dent in the street when
the flying machine struck 'em." And then a general laugh went up, and
the dudish student stepped back in the crowd, out of sight.

"All aboard!" sang out Dick, as he hopped into the driver's seat and
took hold of the wheel. "Start her up, somebody!"

Sam and Tom got aboard and willing hands grasped the propellers and
gave each a twist. Bang! bang! bang! went the explosions, and soon the
propellers were revolving swiftly, and then with a swoop the Dartaway
ran over the campus on its wheels and suddenly arose in the air. A
cheer went up, and the students threw up their caps. Then Dick swung
around in a quarter circle and headed directly for Plankville.

It was an ideal day for flying, not too hot or too cold, and with very
little breeze, and that of the "steady" kind, not likely to develop
"holes"-- the one great terror of all airmen.