_Chapter X_
THE MEETING
After lunch Dorothy and Bill established themselves comfortably in theshade of the terrace awning back of the Bolton's house, and Dorothy'sground training began.
"First of all," said her instructor, "you must learn the signals formaneuvers, such as when the stick is shaken laterally, one hand held up,it means control of the plane is resumed by the instructor. Opening thethrottle in a glide means resume level flight. There are eight of thesesignals to memorize. Then there are eight correction signals as well."
"I'll get them down soon enough," his pupil assured him. "Is that all?"
"I should say not. That's just a starter. Your ground training willconsist of three parts: theoretic training, which takes up principles offlight; aircraft construction, aviation engine construction; and theelements of meteorology. Next, practical training, which embraces themaintenance and repair of aircraft together with maintenance and repairof aviation engines. Then comes aviation procedure, which takes up aircommerce regulations; instruction procedure (signals come under that)and precautions and general instructions."
"Whew!" whistled Dorothy in dismay. "It _is_ a business!"
Bill laughed at her forlorn expression. "Cheer up--the first hundredyears are the hardest. But seriously, to become an efficient air pilot,it is essential to know thoroughly this ground work and all of themaneuvers I listed under elementary flying. None of them can be safelyomitted. Of those I included under advanced flying, acrobatics are notrequired for a pilot's license, but they're a grand help in developingability to handle a plane with confidence. Proficiency in reversecontrol flying, precision landings with power, forced landings and crosscountry flying is required for an interstate commercial license--andvital for every pilot."
"Is _that_ all?" asked Dorothy, with diminished enthusiasm.
"No. To become a real flyer, you must understand aerial navigation andpass off formation flying and night flying. It sounds like a lot--but itreally isn't so difficult. Of course, if you don't _want_ to go thewhole way--"
"Oh, but I do, Bill," she said earnestly. "It's only that I neverdreamed there was so much to be learned. It kind of takes my breathaway--"
"You mustn't let that bother you. I'm glad you're going to do the thingup right, though. It will take a lot of your time--but you'll find itworth your while. Let's get busy now. We'll start on signals. Then laterthis afternoon you can go up again if you feel like it."
For the next two weeks Dorothy worked daily with Bill. By the end ofthat time she had completed her elementary solo flying and was nowengrossed in mastering the difficulties of reverse control.
Bill realized after giving her two or three lessons, that his pupilshowed a high degree of aptitude for flying. Their trip home in theamphibian after the wreck of the _Scud_, had proved pretty conclusivelyto him that this sixteen-year-old girl had an unusually cool and stabletemperament. Ordinarily, flight training is inadvisable for anyone undereighteen years of age, and Bill knew that twenty years is preferable.For, ordinarily, the instinctive coordination between sensory organs andmuscles, which is necessary toward the control of a plane in the air,does not develop earlier. An airplane must be kept moving or it willfall; and the processes of reason are far too slow to keep up with theexigencies of flight. Flying cannot be figured out like a problem inmathematics. Calculation won't do the trick--there isn't enough time forit.
Of course there are exceptions to this rule. Bill Bolton was onehimself, and Dorothy, he knew, was another.
When Mr. Dixon questioned him as to Dorothy's progress, he gave him alist of the maneuvers that had already been mastered, and theapproximate length of time she had taken to satisfy him in performance.
"But that doesn't mean a thing to me--" objected the older man. "Lookhere--I was talking to a friend of mine who is an old Royal Flying Corpsman. He said that Dorothy should wait several years before training. Howabout it? I know your reputation as a flyer, and I've proved myconfidence in you by trusting you with my daughter's life. Why is itbetter for her to start now, rather than later?"
"Do you play the violin, sir?"
"No ear for music." Mr. Dixon shook his head in reminiscence. "My fatherplayed well. It was his ambition that we play duets together. But afterwasting money for two years on lessons for me, he gave it up. My! thesounds I made when I practiced! It must have been torture to him. Ican't tell one note from another--but I remember how awful it was. Butwhat has _that_ got to do with Dorothy's flying?"
"A good deal. You couldn't play the violin because you are not musical,and only a musical person can learn to play it well. In some respects,mastery of the violin and mastery of flying, have a common bond. Withboth the one fundamental requirement is natural or instinctive aptitude.Flying is an art, and without natural ability it is useless to attemptit. And if it isn't inherent, Mr. Dixon, it just can't be acquired.Moreover, the only way to find out if that aptitude exists, is by trial.If Dorothy had the natural ability for the violin that she has forflying, practice and experience would make her a second Kreisler!"
A smile crept along the corners of Mr. Dixon's mouth. "Ah, but Kreisleris a _man_!"
"I know, sir, but honestly, sex has nothing to do with it."
"So you think she should keep on with her flight training?"
"I _know_ she should, Mr. Dixon, if you want her to fly at all. She hasall the qualifications that go toward making a really _good_ air pilot."
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say it, and glad you're so enthusiastic."
"Of course I am," declared Bill. "She's fearless and alert and she lovesthe work--she'll do well."
And so Dorothy continued her flight training.
She came down one afternoon from a solo flight and Bill, who had beenwatching her maneuvers from the shade of the hangar, walked over as theplane rolled to a stop.
"Not so good--" she called out as she sprang to the ground. "I nearlyovershot my landing."
"So I noticed," returned her young instructor rather grimly."Carelessness, you know, that's all. Keep your mind on the job. Andhere's something else. Remember, when you are making a flipper turn, thenose must first be dropped to level. Otherwise you'll get into serioustrouble. Also don't forget that until the wings pass an angle of bank of45 degrees your controls are not inverted and must be handled as in anormal turn."
"O.K. skipper," she sighed. "I'll remember in future."
"One thing more. Those two 360-degree spirals with an altitude loss ofabout 1000 feet were well done. But you must bring your plane out ofreverse control spirals above 1500 feet altitude--Now we'll put your busaway and call it a day."
Work finished, they strolled over to the terrace where Frank as usualhad iced drinks awaiting them.
"You've certainly taught me a lot in fourteen days," observed Dorothyafter sipping her ginger ale. "But it's kind of put a crimp into ourdetective work. By the way, you never have told me what you had up yoursleeve with regard to the robbery--something to do with an airplanecoming in handy, wasn't it?"
"Your memory is better on the ground than in the air!"
"Pish! likewise, tush! You don't intend to wait till I finish trainingor anything like that, before coming across with that clue that willhelp us land those birds in jail?"
"Why should I?"
"I don't know. Thought maybe you might figure my interest in landing thegang would take my mind off flying--"
Bill took a long, refreshing drink of the iced liquid at his elbow."You're on the wrong track. I'm simply biding my time and keeping afinger on the pulse of the robbery, as it were."
"Do you mean that?"
"I'm in deadly earnest," he assured her, although his eyes twinkledmischievously.
"Then all I can say," exclaimed Dorothy, "is that you're one up oneverybody else who is working on the case."
"How come?"
"Why? you know as well as I do that when the Packard rolled out of thealley by the
bank, in all probability carrying three people and theloot, it disappeared completely. And it's stayed that way ever since,hasn't it? That's two weeks ago tonight."
"Any new clues lately?"
"Nary a one. The police traced the red-headed girl's finger prints toSarah Martinelli, better known as Staten Island Sadie. They sent Dad herrecord--I saw it--believe me, that lady is a ripe egg!"
"How beautifully expressive."
Dorothy raised her eyes from her compact's tiny mirror.
"Well, she must be!--Are you trying to kid me?"
Bill finished his ginger ale. "Come on, tell me the rest."
Dorothy grinned. "That's all there is, there isn't any more, my child.Don't imagine those police are efficient, do you? None of the missingbonds have been found, and as for the money, those chaps have probablyspent it by this time. I feel awfully sorry for Daddy, though," shecontinued in a changed voice, "--that Mrs. Hamberfield is still raisingthe roof about her diamond necklace. Serves her right for being such amutt, I say."
"Tough on both parties, I should think."
"Nothing of the kind. Daddy says that her husband, StoningtonHamberfield, made his coin profiteering during the war. What do youthink his name really is?"
"You tell me."
"Steinburg Hammerfeld--isn't that a hot one?"
"A Hun, eh?"
"Well, if he isn't--I'm President Hindenburg, San Francisco Harbor andthe Statue of Liberty all in one!"
Bill smiled appreciatively at this sally, then changed the subject."Let's go to the movies this evening?"
"Can't. It's Pen and Pencil Club night."
"What on earth is that?"
"Oh, about a year ago, a bunch of us at high school, girls and fellows,started a club to write short stories. We meet every other Tuesday nightat some member's house. Everybody has to write a story at least one amonth, or they're fined a quarter. We read aloud and discuss them at themeeting. Come with me after supper and pay my quarter."
"Nothing doing. That kind of thing is my idea of a perfectly terribleevening."
Dorothy slipped the compact into a pocket of her jodhpurs and got to herfeet.
"That's where you're all wrong, Bill. Noel Sainsbury, the writer, is ouradviser. He makes it awfully interesting--we have lots of fun. He was anaval aviator during the war. You two should have lots in common. Docome along and meet him."
"Why I dined at his place, Little Windows, last night!"
"Oh, you do know him?"
"Naturally. Where would I be if it weren't for him? Look at the bookshe's written about me. Noel Sainsbury brought Dad and me to New Canaan.We're awfully fond of him and his wife and little girl."
"Yes, Winks is a darling and Mrs. Sainsbury is a peach--" Dorothyagreed. "She comes to our meetings, too. I'm named for her, you know."
"Really? That's interesting."
"You bet. Then you'll come tonight?"
"I'd like to, very much."
"All right. The meeting is at Betty Mayo's, in White Oak Shade. I'll behere about eight in my car and drive you down there."
"I'll be ready--so long!"
"So long!"
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It was nearly quarter to nine before they got started, as things turnedout. Mr. Dixon had gone to New York for the day on business, had beendetained in town, and Dorothy waited dinner for him.
"Well, we won't have missed much," she explained to Bill as her carbreasted the Marvin Ridge Road. "The first half hour is always taken upwith the minutes of the last meeting and all that parliamentary stuff. Ilove driving in the twilight, anyway. Next place on the left is wherewe're bound. We'll be there in a jiffy."
They rounded a bend and came upon a Packard parked at the roadside. Thehood was up and a man looked up from tinkering with the engine as theirlights outlined his figure.
"Pull up! pull up!" Bill's tense whisper sounded in her ears. "Where areyour eyes, girl?"
But Dorothy needed no second warning. She shot home the brake, for shetoo had seen the great, misshapen boot that the dapper little motoristwore on his left foot.
Dorothy Dixon Wins Her Wings Page 10