not
for a minute or two. He knew that he had been afraid. The engine was
turned over once more--and once more stopped. Carl raged, and never
again, in all his flying, did real fear return to him. "What the deuce
is the matter?" he snarled. Again the propeller was revolved, and this
time the engine hummed sweet. The monoplane ran along the ground, its
tail lifting in the blast, till the whole machine seemed delicately
poised on its tiptoes. He was off the ground, his rage leaving him as
his fear had left him.

He exulted at the swiftness with which a distant group of trees shot
at him, under him. He turned, and the machine mounted a little on the
turn, which was against the rules. But he brought her to even keel so
easily that he felt all the mastery of the man who has finally learned
to be natural on a bicycle. He tilted up the elevator slightly and
shot across a series of fields, climbing. It was perfectly easy. He
would go up--up. It was all automatic now--cloche toward him for
climbing; away from him for descent; toward the wing that tipped up,
in order to bring it down to level. The machine obeyed perfectly. And
the foot-bar, for steering to right and left, responded to such light
motions of his foot. He grinned exultantly. He wanted to shout.

He glanced at the barometer and discovered that he was up to two
hundred feet. Why not go on?

He sailed out across San Mateo, and the sense of people below, running
and waving their hands, increased his exultation. He curved about at
the end, somewhat afraid of his ability to turn, but having all the
air there was to make the turn in, and headed back toward the
aerodrome. Already he had flown five miles.

Half a mile from the aerodrome he realized that his motor was
slackening, missing fire; that he did not know what was the matter;
that his knowledge had left him stranded there, two hundred feet above
ground; that he had to come down at once, with no chance to choose a
landing-place and no experience in gliding. The motor stopped
altogether.

The ground was coming up at him too quickly.

He tilted the elevator, and rose. But, as he was volplaning, this cut
down the speed, and from a height of ten feet above a field the
machine dropped to the ground with a flat plop. Something gave
way--but Carl sat safe, with the machine canted to one side.

He climbed out, cold about the spine, and discovered that he had
broken one wheel of the landing-chassis.

All the crowd f