black clouds over south

Glad you didn’t try to jump over, Uncle Norman. How are your air-legs, wobbly?”

“A bit cramped.” He stretched them both, found they would work, and in a moment he mounted the boat pier. “I don’t expect to be more than half an hour.”

“We’ll wait here,” Jim promised　hong kong work visa.

“Oh, look at the hydroplane,” shouted a small boy on the shore.

“They are calling Her Highness names,” Bob scowled.

“She’s a hydroplane for the minute,” Jim replied. “Let’s taxi around the water.”

“It’s getting kind of rough. Up at North Hero it was as smooth as a sheet,” Bob answered. “Wish I knew more about water and its tricks.”

“I think we’re going to have a blow,&rdquo　; Jim speculated as Her Highness went rocking over the waves.

“There are some and west and they sure do look as if they are in a hurry. We’ll have them on our tail as we go back. Got plenty of gas? I read that in some places Lake Champlain is three hundred feet deep, and it’s wet clear to the bottom,” said Bob.

“There’s an extra tank besides what is in the bus. Guess I’ll feed her up. Somehow, I think a nice Texas desert is pleasanter to land on than water.” Jim busied himself with the task and Bob helped look things over　.

“Why don’t you go back above the shore?” he suggested.

“We have to land on the cove when we get home, so why switch gears. If there’s time this evening, we might locate a place to land on the farm, but we’ll have to ask your uncle about that or we’ll be coming down on some field he’s planted.”

“O.K. with me.”

“Whoooo boys,” Mr. Fenton shouted from the pier where he was standing with a group of men and an army of small boys who had come to see the take off.

“An audience. Do your prettiest, Your Highness,” Bob urged the plane as his step-brother brought it around in fancy style.

“It isn’t every farmer who has a couple of pilots to bring him to town in a private plane, free of charge,” one of the men joked.

“Certainly looks like the farmers are getting some relief,” another added. “They are going up in the air about it.”

“It’s time we did something,” Mr. Fenton responded. “Shall I get in now, Jim?”

“Sure.” Bob gave him a hand, the straps were re-adjusted, and the younger boy crawled back to his seat, attached his own parachute, and was finally ready. By that time the shore was lined with spectators.

“All ready. Contact,” Caldwell shouted. Jim opened the throttle, and they were off in a jiffy. They could see the people waving and cheering as they came about a few feet above the lake. Then Her Highness zoomed, high and handsome and the town was left behind.

Because of the rising wind the return trip was not so smooth. They ran into bumps and pockets, and the force of the approaching storm drove hard behind them, pushing them forward swiftly. Jim zoomed to ten thousand feet in an effort to get above the troubled air, but even at that altitude there was no improvement. Occasionally he took a second to glance at his passenger, but Mr. Fenton was facing it bravely, although his eyes showed that he was a bit anxious. The young pilot took the speaking tube, signaled to the boy in the back, and almost instantly there was a red flash on the dial board, which meant Bob was paying attention.