“It’s great, I’ll say!” declared Randy Rover.
“I should say it was!” returned his twin brother, Andy. “Just think of swooping through the air like a bird! Gee, I’d like to own a flying machine myself!”
“Well, our fathers owned one once,” declared Captain Fred Rover, somewhat proudly. “They flew clear to Brill College in their machine.”
“Yes, I’ve often heard them talk about that,” put in Major Jack Rover. “They called the machine the Dartaway. It was a biplane and of rather primitive construction, because in those days aeroplanes were a new invention and the best of them were rather crude.”
“I wonder what ever became of that machine?” questioned Andy.
“Oh, it went into the scrap heap long ago,” declared his cousin Fred.
“They didn’t have much use for it after they left college and went into business in Wall Street,” explained Jack. “But they certainly had some dandy times in it.”
The four boys were out on Clearwater Lake in one of the rowboats belonging to Colby Hall. They had been watching the maneuvers of a large biplane which had circled over their heads several times. This biplane had made its headquarters at a cove just below Haven Point, and its owners had advertised far and wide to take people up for a fly around the lake for fifteen dollars per person. As this was the first aeroplane to come to the lake for business, it had taken up quite a few people during the past ten days.
“I wonder how long they stay up on a trip,” remarked Andy, as the four boys resumed their rowing.
“The circulars say fifteen minutes,” answered Fred.
“It didn’t seem to me he stayed up more than ten minutes the time before this,” said Jack. “I suppose they cut the time when they have other people waiting to go up. They carry only two passengers at a time, you know, and I suppose they want to make hay while the sun shines.”
“A dollar a minute is making money pretty fast,” observed Randy. “I’d like to rake in an iron man every sixty seconds by the watch,” and he grinned.
“Yes, but it costs something to run a flying machine,” returned Jack. “And then there is the risk, too.”
“Well, if we went up it would cost the four of us sixty dollars,” declared Randy.
“And I don’t see ourselves spending sixty dollars that way just now,” cried Jack. “My spending money for this quarter is getting low.”
“Don’t say a word, Jack, about spending money!” came from his cousin Fred, with a wry face. “I’m almost high and dry.”
“It’s lucky they can’t charge us for looking at the aeroplane,” chuckled Andy.
The four Rover boys had left Colby Hall about an hour before for a row down the Rick Rack River to the lake. In a boat behind them were four of their chums, Dick Powell, often called Spouter because of his fondness for making long speeches, Gif Garrison, who was at the head of the school athletics, and Ned Lowe and Dan Soppinger. Each crowd of cadets was in a well-built four-oared boat, and a little while before had indulged in a race which had come to an end when all had stopped rowing to look at the aeroplane which was soaring above their heads.
Boating that year promised to become popular at Colby Hall. Colonel Colby had had the institution fitted out with several new racing shells, and in addition had purchased two motor-boats of which all the cadets were very proud. A man had been hired who knew all about motor-boats, and he was instructing the various cadets in the use of the craft.
“I must say I wish we were out in one of the new motor-boats,” declared Fred, after they had gone on rowing for ten minutes more. “This is rather hot and tiresome work.”
“Never mind, Fred. You need the exercise,” declared Jack. “You’re getting too stout. The first thing you know you’ll be as fat as Fatty Hendry.”
“Gosh! don’t say that, Jack,” returned the young captain quickly. “Why, Fatty is so fat he can hardly get through the dormitory doors!”
“That aviator won’t want to take up Fatty,” remarked Andy. “That is, not unless he went up alone and paid double fare.”
“Hi, you fellows, get a move on!” came a shout from the other rowboat, and Gif Garrison waved a hand towards the Rovers. “I thought you were going to do a little rowing practice. Remember, we have got to get busy if we want to win any of those boat races later on.”
“Fred and I are not in those races, Gif,” answered Jack. “You know officers are not expected to enter any contests like that.”
“Yes, but I expect Andy and Randy to go into at least one race,” declared the cadet who was at the head of the athletic committee. “And when they go in I want them to make a real showing for Colby.”
“We’ll do that all right enough,” declared Randy.
“I’m going in for practice every day after this,” answered his brother.
“Just remember we’ve got to wipe Longley Academy from the face of the lake,” declared Spouter Powell. “We’ll show them that as a military academy they are not one, two, three with good old Colby Hall.”
“That’s the talk!” cried Jack. “There’s going to be only one real military academy around here, and that’s Colby.”
“So say we all of us!” sang out his cousin Andy.
“What did they want to turn Longley Academy into a military school for, anyway?” grumbled Ned Lowe. “I thought when they started that school they were going to give their attention mainly to athletics.”
“So they did,” answered Gif Garrison. “But when they saw how popular Colby Hall was becoming, and how they were losing one scholar after another, I guess the owners got busy and concluded the only thing they could do would be to turn the academy into a military school and give their boys the showiest kind of a uniform.”
“And they sure have got the uniforms!” declared Fred, who overheard this remark from the other boat. “Gosh! you would think they were cadets from one of those little jerkwater monarchies in Europe. Such gold braid and buttons and such lace! It’s enough to make an ordinary American boy sick!”
“You’d better not tell them that,” said Jack quickly. “If you do they’ll say you’re jealous of them because our uniforms are so ordinary.”
“Well, you give me the good old gray and khaki every time,” came from Randy. “Both of those colors stand the wear a good deal better than that showy stuff will ever do.”
“Come on, fellows; jack her up!” called out Gif. “I’ll bet you a pint of peanuts we can beat you to the landing at Berry Island.”
“Make it a quart and we’ll go you!” shouted back Jack gayly.
“And they’ve got to be freshly roasted, too,” broke in Andy. “No stale old goobers from Rigoletto’s place where they’ve been lying in his show window for a month or two! They’ve got to be freshly roasted, right out of the whistling roaster!”
“Get ready――pull!” cried Gif, a few seconds later, and at this word of command from the head of the general athletic committee the four Rovers started up the lake with the other boat close by their side.
