Dan was only too ready, as the beauty of the machine appealed to him immensely, especially when he beheld it in the pale light of the sun, when it was brought into the open. The men wheeled it out of the back part of the shed on to a level lawn, which could serve as a starting-place. Vincent talked all the time in a great state of excitement, and pointed out the various improvements and beauties of the masterpiece. The planes were not exactly horizontal, since Vincent considered that he gained more power by making them branch at a slight angle. The wings were doubly covered with fine canvas, and a broad streak of crimson ran through their white, which the inventor informed Dan was a characteristic of all his machines. "A sort of distinguishing mark, as it were," said Vincent. Another improvement was that the aviator could steer with his knees on occasions, which gave freedom to the hands when necessary. The engine was light and powerful, with tremendous driving-power considering its size. Finally, the steering-seat--the bridge of the airship, as it might be--was fenced in comfortably with aluminium, and a broad expanse of mica protected the controller of the aeroplane from the force of the winds. It was really an admirable machine and Halliday was loud in his praises, to which, however, its maker paid little attention. Genius does not require laudation, talent does. Dan inspected the machine in every direction, tried the steering gear which ran easily, saw that the engine was well supplied with fuel, and tested, as well as he could, the various spars and ropes and bolts. Then he took his seat in the pilot-box, and prepared for a trial flight. "Not that she hasn't been out before," said Vincent, while Dan gathered his energies to start. "Ready, Mr. Halliday. Let her go."