With that clanging in his ears Graham drew near the monoplane, marched
into the shadow of its tilting wing. He became aware that a number of
people about him were offering to accompany him, and waved their offers
aside. He wanted to think how one started the engine. The bell clanged
faster and faster, and the feet of the retreating people roared faster
and louder. The man in yellow was assisting him to mount through the ribs
of the body. He clambered into the aeronaut's place, fixing himself very
carefully and deliberately. What was it? The man in yellow was pointing
to two small flying machines driving upward in the southern sky. No doubt
they were looking for the coming aeroplanes. That--presently--the thing
to do now was to start. Things were being shouted at him, questions,
warnings. They bothered him. He wanted to think about the machine, to
recall every item of his previous experience. He waved the people from
him, saw the man in yellow dropping off through the ribs, saw the crowd
cleft down the line of the girders by his gesture.
For a moment he was motionless, staring at the levers, the wheel by which
the engine shifted, and all the delicate appliances of which he knew so
little. His eye caught a spirit level with the bubble towards him, and he
remembered something, spent a dozen seconds in swinging the engine
forward until the bubble floated in the centre of the tube. He noted that
the people were not shouting, knew they watched his deliberation.
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