settling into his seat, his inevitable cigarette still in his mouth.
The Buzzard was even larger than the Golden Eagle, but her lifting
capacity was a good deal less, as she was not so well designed.
Malvoise, however, was a reckless driver, and had already had several
narrow escapes from upsets.

The other air men bustled about and from their engines came an
occasional gatling-gun-like rattle and roar, as they tried their
motors out. In the air was the raw smell of gasolene and the odor of
trampled grass. Clouds of blue smoke arose from where the proprietor
of a small biplane had drenched his cylinders with too much oil.
Occasionally an auto or a motor cycle chugged up, and the early comers
watched with intense interest the flying men preparing for their trial
flights.

Frank and Harry paid little attention to the others as they drew on
their gloves, and carefully inspected their propellers. A man had been
almost killed on the grounds a few days before, when a propeller blade
had torn loose under the terrific strain of its 1200 revolutions a
minute, and the boys were not anxious for anything like that to happen
to their machine.

At last, everything seemed to be in order and the Chester boys
scrambled into their chassis. The Golden Eagle had been stripped of
all the appliances she usually carried as a passenger craft. Her
searchlight and wireless were missing. Her transom seats were gone.
Several braces had been taken out also, as the removal of her
passenger accommodations had rendered the strain on her framework much
less.