in front of his tent talking to some of the Grand
Worthy High Mighties of it I guess--fat old boy with a yachting cap
and a big brass watch chain and an Order of Pyramid charm big as your
thumb, and a tough young fellow with a black sateen shirt and his hat
on sideways with a cigarette hanging out of one corner of his mouth.

Since I wrote the above a party of sports, the women in fade-away
gowns made to show their streamline forms came butting in, poking
their fingers at everything, while the slob that owned their car
explained everything wrong. "This is a biplane," he says, "you can see
there's a plane sticking out on each side of the place where the
aviator sits, it's a new areoplane (that's the way he pronounced it),
and that dingus in front is a whirling motor." I was sitting here at
the work-bench, writing, hot as hell and sweaty and in khaki pants and
soft shirt and black sneakers, and the Big Boss comes over to me and
says, "Where is Hawk Ericson, my man." "How do I know," I says. "When
will he be back," says he, as though he was thinking of getting me
fired p. d. q. for being fresh. "Next week. He ain't come yet."

He gets sore and says, "See here, my man, I read in the papers to-day
that he has just joined the flying colony. Permit me to inform you
that he is a very good friend of mine. If you will ask him, I am quite
sure that he will remember Mr. Porter Carruthers, who was introduced
to him at the Belmont Park Meet. Now if you will be so good as to show
the ladies and myself about----" Well, I asked Hawk, and Hawk seemed
to be unable to remember his friend Mr. Carruthers, who was one of the
thousand or so people recently introduced to him, but he told me to
show them about, which I did, and told them the Gnome was built radial
to save room, and the wires overhead were a frame for a little roof
for bad weather, and they gasped and nodded to every fool thing I
said, swallowed it hook line and sinker till one of the females showed
her interest by saying "How fascinating, let's go over to the Garden
City Hotel, Porter, I'm dying for a drink." I hope she died for it.

_May 10_: Up at three, trying out machine. Smashed landing chassis in
coming down, shook me up a little. Interesting how when I rose it was
dark on the ground but once up was a little red in the east like smoke
from a regular fairy city.

Another author out to-day bothering me for what he called "copy."

Must say I've met some darn decent peopl