Part 8 (1/2)
”We had an accident, Professor,” returned d.i.c.k.
”An accident?” and the instructor was all attention.
”Our biplane got smashed up,” put in Tom.
”Indeed! I am sorry to hear that. Are you hurt?”
”Got a shaking up and a few scratches,” answered Sam.
Then their story had to be told in detail. Soon it became noised all over the place that the Dartaway had been wrecked, and before they could get a mouthful to eat the three Rovers had to tell the story over and over again.
”I'm sorry the biplane was wrecked, but glad you escaped,” said Songbird, earnestly. He cherished his old friends as if they were brothers.
”Just what I say already,” cried Max Spangler, a German-American student. ”You can buy a new flying machine, yes, but you can't buy a new head or a body, not much!” And he shook his head earnestly.
Even while the lads were eating they had to give further details of the disastrous flight. Doctor Wallington congratulated them on their escape.
”You had better leave flying alone after this,” he remarked.
”I think we shall--for a while, at least,” answered Tom, dryly.
As soon as it was possible to do so, the boys sent a message to the girls and to their folks, telling about the accident and of their escape.
”It's bound to get in the newspapers,” said d.i.c.k. ”And if we don't send word the others will be scared to death.”
The oldest Rover boy was right about the affair getting in the newspapers. The local sheets gave the accident a column or more and some city sheets took it up and made a ”spread” of it, with pictures that were truly thrilling even though they were inaccurate.
”Humph! look at this picture!” cried Sam, showing up the supplement to a New York Sunday newspaper. ”Looks as if we hit the smokestack of the locomotive and sailed along on that for a mile or two! Phew! what an imagination that artist must have!”
”And here is a picture showing the train climbing over the biplane!”
returned Tom. ”Say, it's a wonder we didn't wreck the Express instead of the Express wrecking us!”
On the day following the accident the boys were told, after cla.s.s hours, that some gentlemen wished to see them. They went to the reception room, to find two men there--a lawyer and a doctor.
”You are the--er--the young gentlemen who were in the--er--the flying machine smash-up?” queried one of the visitors, sharply.
”Yes,” answered d.i.c.k.
”Mr. Rover?”
”Yes, Richard Rover.”
”Just so. Glad to know you. My name is Fogg--Belright Fogg. This is Doctor Slamper. We represent the railroad company, Mr. Rover. The doctor came along to see if you had been hurt.”
”I got this,” answered d.i.c.k, with a quiet smile, and pointed to the lump on his forehead.
”Ah, yes, I see,” put in Doctor Slamper. ”Not very serious, I take it.”
”Oh, it didn't kill me.”
”Ha! ha! Good joke, Mr. Rover! Feel pretty good otherwise, eh?”