The instructor shouts at him at the top of his voice, but he hears nothing; only the racing engine and the whistle of the wind. And then for the first time he ventures to look over the side. Could that curiously-scattered collection of pigmy buildings, long, ribbon-like roads, and distant, narrow, gleaming line of railway line be the earth? He decides that it is, and is at last beginning to feel comfortable, when the machine begins to heel over violently; it is the worst shock that he has yet had. He grips with both hands as tight as he is able, shuts his eyes, and waits for the worst. By the time his eyes are open again the machine--by what seems to him to have been a miracle--has righted itself and is flying smoothly through the air. Never before has the world appeared so beautiful nor so diminutive in size. For another five minutes or so the instructor flies to and fro above the aerodrome, then down goes the machine, much to the astonishment and alarm of the bewildered “quirk,” who suddenly finds the earth rushing up to meet him. How he fears that moment when a landing must be made, and how relieved he feels when he realizes there is nothing in it in the least degree terrifying. Very gently the aeroplane skims on to the landing-ground, like a seagull lighting in the crest of a wave, and all is over; he is safe back again on Mother Earth. Silent and subdued, he clambers out of the aeroplane. How did he enjoy it? “Very much indeed,” he answers in a husky whisper, and the instructor turns his head away and smiles. He has taken “quirks” up before. CHAPTER IV THE PERILS OF THE AIR For the first few trips up aloft the beginner is always accompanied by an instructor. First he is taken up as a passenger, and his only duty is to sit in the observer’s seat and do nothing. Then gradually he is allowed to fly the machine himself. This he does in a double-control--that is to say, an aeroplane with two sets of controls, one of which the instructor makes use of and the other is in his own hands. He is taught that every movement of the control must be slow and gentle, otherwise the machine is sure to lose its stability--balance--and go crashing to the ground below; that an inch too much with the rudder-bar will invariably mean a “spin,” or a too jerky movement on the control-bar a “pancake” or a “nose-dive.” Getting off from the ground is a comparatively simple matter; but the moment of first entering the air is the most dangerous and trying of all. Should the engine fail, the chances are a hundred to one that the machine will crash into a hedge, or a tree, or land in a valley. The “bumps” are most frequent over houses and buildings, and particularly so on a dull morning, when the sun is breaking through the clouds, which send the craft plunging and tossing in all directions. This is the test that will show if a man is a good pilot or no.