CHAPTER II--Captain Bill
Hal couldn't come right over. He had to be fussed over, steamed, dosed,and put to bed so that he would suffer no ill effects from his soakingthat evening. But he was over bright and early the next morning. It hadrained all night, and was still raining in a quiet, steady downpour,when Hal appeared at the Martin home, dressed in rubbers, raincoat,muffler, and carrying an umbrella to protect him on his long trek fromhis own front door to his friend's. Captain Bill would have beenstartled at the strangely bundled figure of Hal, but he had been warned,and greeted Hal without a blink of an eyelash. In fact, as soon as Halhad been unwrapped from his many coverings, and had spoken to them all,Captain Bill discovered that he was probably going to like this boyafter all, and was pleased that his nephew had such good judgment inchoosing a friend and companion.
They talked that morning, of course, about airplanes, and the boys toldhow they had been reading about the famous flyers, and of their hopes tobe flyers themselves some day. Bill had been a good listener, and hadsaid very little, but after lunch Hal said what had been on his chestfor a long time.
"Captain Bill, we've been doing all the talking. Why don't you tell us astory?"
The Captain laughed. "I think that Bob's heard all my stories. I'mafraid that they're a little moth-eaten now. But how about the two ofyou telling me a story? Some of the things that you've been reading socarefully. How about it?"
"We can't tell a story the way you can, old scout," said Bob. "Anyway,we asked you first."
"All right, I'm caught," said the Captain. "But I'll tell you a storyonly on one condition. Each of you has to tell one too. That's onlyfair, isn't it?"
Bob and Hal looked at each other. Hal spoke. "I'm afraid I won't be ableto," he said, blushing. "I can't tell stories, I'm sure I can't."
Captain Bill knew that it would be tactless at that moment to try toconvince Hal that he could tell a story. It would only increase theboy's nervousness, and convince him only more of the fact that he couldnot spin a yarn. So he said, "Well, we'll tell ours first, and you cantell yours later. After you hear how bad ours are, you'll beencouraged." Then Bill had an idea. "How about having a contest?" hesaid. "The one who tells the best story gets a prize."
"What prize?" asked Bob quickly.
"Now, you take your time. We'll decide on the prize later. We'll have tolet Pat in on this, too, I suppose, but he's going to give us somecompetition. Pat's a great story teller. I'll tell my story first. ThenBob can tell his, after he's had some time for preparation; then Patwill probably want to get his licks in; and Hal will come last. He'llhave the benefit of our mistakes to guide him. How about it?"
"All right with me," said Bob, eagerly. He was keen about the idea.
But Hal seemed less enthusiastic. His natural reticence, he felt, wouldmake it torture for him to tell a story. It would be all right just forBob--and he was even getting well enough acquainted with Captain Bill totell his story in front of him--but this Pat McDermott--even his namesounded formidable. Captain Bill didn't give him a chance to say aye,yea, or nay, but went on talking.
"I think that we ought to choose subjects that you two know about," saidBill. "How about stories of the aviators--of Famous Flyers and theirFamous Flights?"
"Great!" said Bob. "Gee, I want Lindbergh."
"Lindbergh you shall have," said Captain Bill. "What's yours Hal?"
"I don't know," said Hal. "I'll have to think it over. But--I think thatI'd like to take the life of Floyd Bennett--if I may."
"Of course," said Bill. "I think that I'll tell about Admiral Byrd--doyou think he'd make a good story?"
"Marvelous!" said Bob, with his usual enthusiasm. "What'll we leave forPat?"
"Pat can take whomever he wants to take," the Captain said. "He'll haveto take what's left. That's what he gets for coming late. But what doyou say we wait to start the contest when Pat comes?"
"Yes, oh, yes, I think that that would be much better," said Hal,relieved that the ordeal would at least be postponed, even if it couldnot be avoided altogether. "I think that we ought to wait until Mr.McDermott comes."
The Captain laughed. "Don't let him hear you call him 'Mr. McDermott'"he said. "He's Pat to everybody, and to you, too."
"I'll try to remember," said Hal, miserably, thinking of what acomplicated world this was.
It was still raining outside. The boys and the Captain, seated in thelibrary, or rather, sprawled in the library, could see the streams ofrain splash against the windows and run down in little rivers until theysplashed off again at the bottom of the pane.
Captain Bill yawned and stretched. "Not much to do on a day like this.I'm mighty anxious to get out to the airport as soon as it clears up.What'll we do?"
Bob had an idea. "Couldn't we sort of sneak one over on Pat?" he said."Couldn't we have a story, one not in the contest, now? It wouldn'tcount, really, and it would give us a little rehearsal before Pat getshere."
"Who's going to tell this story?" asked Captain Bill, looking just a bitsuspiciously at his nephew.
Bob grinned. "Well, I thought that maybe you would. Seeing that you'rethe best story-teller anyway."
"Go long with your blarney. But I guess I will tell you one. It will bea sort of prologue to the rest of our stories. It's about the very firstflyers and the very first famous flight."
"The Wrights?" asked Hal.
"The Wrights," said the Captain. "Wilbur and Orville, and their firstflight at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina."