"No, that's near enough," said the Forecaster. "Thirty-six feet of sail area in a fourteen mile wind will lift nearly twenty pounds of wire and, probably, will have a pull of about sixty pounds. I don't think you'd care to stand a sixty-pound drag very long, Monroe. We'll let our new reel do the work." "About how high could we make this kite go, sir?" asked Tom. "Does that depend on the wind?" "No," the Forecaster answered, "it depends on the sail area of the kite and the weight of the wire. Ten square feet of sail area will lift three pounds or, a thousand feet of wire. There are over five thousand feet to a mile, and a kite usually ascends at about an angle of forty-five degrees. So, if you allow for sag and so forth, you'd have to put out eight or nine thousand feet of wire to reach a mile, wouldn't you?" "Yes," said Tom, "I guess that's how it would go." "It's an awful lot of line," commented Fred. "Therefore," said the Forecaster, "if ten square feet will lift a thousand feet of wire, for eight thousand feet, you'd need eighty square feet of sail area." "Then even the two of these together aren't big enough to go up a mile!" cried Tom. "A mile is pretty high, my boy," said the Forecaster; "you've never seen a kite go up a quarter as far." "What's the highest flight that ever was made?" queried Tom. "America holds the World's Record," was the answer. "The United States Weather Bureau sent up a string of kites at Mount Weather, in Virginia, that ascended higher than four miles and a quarter, 21,385 feet above the reel, to be exact." "How many kites did they use?" Tom asked. "Eight," the Forecaster answered, "with a lifting surface of five hundred and forty-four square feet of sail area. There wouldn't have been much chance for you, Monroe, if you'd tried to hold that bunch in your hand. The kites would have picked you off the ground and whisked away with you like a piece of rag tied to the tail of a Japanese kite. There," he concluded as he stepped back, "I think we're ready now. Tom, how's the wind?" The official wind-measurer ran up the ladder to his dial, calculated rapidly and answered: "Freshening, sir. It's about seventeen miles an hour, now." "That's all right," the weather expert declared. "Tom, you start her off." "What do I do, sir?" asked the boy. "Just toss the kite in the air," the Forecaster answered. "Don't I have to run with it?" "Not a step, except when the wind is very light. Off with you!" Tom carried the kite about a hundred feet, the line paying out as he went, and waited the word. The boys clustered around the reel excitedly. Monroe went along with Tom. Rex also wanted to follow, but as Ross was afraid that he might jump at the kite and tear it with his teeth, though in play, he called the terrier back. "Ross," then said the Forecaster, "you take the time of the flight, and Anton, I think you'd better watch the reel and see that the line doesn't foul."