Part 11 (2/2)

”I think that Lindy's succeeded in what he's tried to do. The world, and especially the United States was never more interested in aviation than in the year that Lindy flew across the Atlantic. That made them sit up and take notice. The United States was way behind Europe in air service, but since it perked up and got interested in what could be done, why, its been getting ahead by leaps and bounds.

”And we mustn't forget that the most important thing about Lindy is that he was born with wings. He wasn't made a flyer, he just was one. I've seen him give an exhibition, when we went to see the air races, and golly, you could tell his plane from anybody else's in the world. He handles it so easily, and takes it off like a thistle and brings it down like a feather. A plane's just part of him.

”And besides that, he's as modest as they come. Of course, that's an old story. Everybody knows that. But it still strikes me as pretty marvelous that a man can make a big success when he's only 25, and then go on as though nothing had happened, sticking to his work, only working harder than ever. If anybody gets my vote, it's Lindy, even if he was running for President, and I was old enough to vote.” Bob stopped. ”Well,” he said then, ”I guess that's the end of my story.”

It was pretty late. The moon had gone down, and the garden was dark, with the four men making four mounds of deeper black where they sat.

Suddenly a light in the house switched on, sending out a stream of light that picked out Bob, his hair tousled, his eyes blinking in the sudden glare.

Hal started. ”It must be late,” he said anxiously. ”I'd better be getting on. The night air-I shouldn't have stayed so long.”

The screen door of the house slammed, and a figure approached, then down the garden walk, strangely burdened.

”Hang around,” said Captain Bill, starting up. ”This is going to be interesting.” He hurried down the path and met Bob's mother, whose strange burden turned out to be a tray with gla.s.ses and a covered dish.

He took the tray from her. ”You can't go now,” he called to Hal. ”Look what we've got.” He set the tray down, and lifted the napkin from the plate. ”Home baked cookies,” he said, and took one. ”You should have joined our group sooner,” he said to his sister, between bites.

”Because I brought cookies, I suppose, if for no other reason,” she said with a laugh.

”Why, Meg, you know that you'd be welcome even without cookies. You should have been here to hear your son and my nephew tell a grand story in a grand way.”

Bob felt himself blus.h.i.+ng in the dark. Praise from Bill was rare and much sought after. ”Aw,” he said, ”it wasn't anything.”

”It was a good yarn,” said Bill, emphatically.

”If it was a good yarn, then he's your nephew, all right,” said Mrs.

Martin. ”There was never anybody like you for yarning. And good ones, too.”

Captain Bill laughed, and took another cookie. ”If I can tell stories the way you bake cookies-”

He didn't finish his sentence. Hal had been standing nervously at the edge of the group, waiting for a chance to break in. Now he broke in, chance or no chance. ”I've got to go, really I do,” he said. ”My mother will be worried. Thanks a lot for everything. Goodnight.” He broke into a run, and disappeared into the darkness.

Captain Bill looked after him. ”Say, what's the matter with Hal? What was his hurry?”

Bob was a little embarra.s.sed. He hated to talk disloyally about his friend, but he felt that Bill ought to know. ”I guess he's afraid to be out so late alone. You see, Hal's pretty much of a baby yet. He's afraid of a lot of things he oughtn't to be afraid of, and he's always afraid that his mother's worrying about him.”

”I think that it's his mother's fault,” said Mrs. Martin. ”She's pampered him and spoiled him until he can't do a thing or think for himself. She just didn't know that the best way to rear a boy is to give him plenty to eat and a place to sleep and let him take care of himself.”

”That's why I turned out so well, isn't it, Mother?” said Bob.

His mother laughed. ”Oh, I don't know about you. You must be the exception that proves the rule.”

Bill spoke suddenly. ”There ought to be something done about Hal,” he said. ”I like that boy. He's got the stuff there, but he needs something to bring it out. How about it, Bob?”

”I think so, Bill,” said Bob, pleased that Captain Bill had seen so much in his friend. ”I've been trying to help Hal, and I think that he's getting much better than he was, don't you, Mother?”

”I have noticed an improvement,” said Mrs. Martin.

”There'll be more before I go home,” said Captain Bill.

”Don't hog the cookies,” said Pat, making his first, but most important contribution to the conversation. But Pat, though he had said nothing, had thought a lot.

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