He was a Free and Independent American Citizen who called the Count de
Lesseps, "Hey, Lessup." But he would have gone with Carl aeroplaning
to the South Pole upon five minutes' notice--four minutes to devote to
the motor, and one minute to write, with purple indelible pencil, a
post-card to his aunt in Fall River. He was precise about only two
things--motor-timing and calling himself a "mechanician," not a
"mechanic." He became very friendly with Hank Odell; helped him
repair his broken machine, went with him to vaudeville, or stood with
him before the hangar, watching the automobile parties of pretty girls
with lordly chaperons that came to call on Grahame-White and Drexel.
"Some heart-winners, them guys, but I back my boss against them and
ev'body else, Hank," Martin would say.

* * * * *

The meet was over; the aviators were leaving. Carl had said farewell
to his new and well-loved friends, the pioneers of aviation--Latham,
Moisant, Leblanc, McCurdy, Ely, de Lesseps, Mars, Willard, Drexel,
Grahame-White, Hoxsey, and the rest. He was in the afterglow of the
meet, for with Titherington, the Englishman, and Tad Warren, the
Wright flier, he was going to race from Belmont Park to New Haven for
a ten-thousand-dollar prize jointly offered by a New Haven millionaire
and a New York newspaper. At New Haven the three competitors were to
join with Tony Bean (of the Bagby School) and Walter MacMonnies
(flying a Curtiss) in an exhibition meet.

Enveloped in baggy overalls over the blue flannel suit which he still
wore when flying, Carl was directing Martin Dockerill in changing his
spark-plugs, which were fouled. About him, the aviators were having
their machines packed, laughing, playing tricks on one another--boys
who were virile men; mechanics in denim who stammered to the
reporters, "Oh, well, I don't know----" yet who were for the time more
celebrated than Roosevelt or Harry Thaw or Bernard Shaw or Champion
Jack Johnson.

Before 9.45 A.M., when the race to New Haven was scheduled to start,
the newspaper-men gathered; but there were not many outsiders. Carl
felt the lack of the stimulus of thronging devotees. He worked
silently and sullenly. It was "the morning after." He missed Forrest
Haviland.

He began to be anxious. Could he get off on time?

Exactly at 9.45 Titherington made a magnificent start in his Henry
Farman biplane. Carl stared till the machine was a dot in the clouds,
then