Angel Island

During this exhibition the men stood frozen in the exact attitudes in

which she found them. Ralph Addington alone remained master of himself.

He stood quiet, every nerve tense, every muscle alert, the expression on

his face that of a cat watching a bird. At her second dip downward, he

suddenly jumped into the air, jumped so high that his clutching fingers

grazed her finger-tips.

That frightened her.

Her upward flight was of a terrific speed - she leaped into the sky.

But once beyond the danger-line her composure came back. She dropped on

them a coil of laughter, clear as running water, contemptuous,

mischievous. Still laughing, she sank again, almost as near. Her mirth

brought her lids close together. Her eyes, sparkling between thick files

of golden lash, had almost a cruel sweetness.

She immediately flew away, departing over the water. Ralph cursed

himself for the rest of the day. She returned before the week was out,

however, and, after that, she continued to visit them at intervals of a

few days. The sudden note of blue, even in the distance it seemed to

connote coquetry, was the signal for all the men to stop work. They

could not think clearly or consecutively when she was about. She was one

of those women whose presence creates disturbance, perturbation, unrest.

The very sunshine seemed alive, the very air seemed vibrant with her.

Even when she flew high, her shadow came between them and their work.

"She sure qualifies when it comes to fancy flying," said Honey Smith.

"She's in a class all by herself."

Her flying was daring, eccentric, temperamental, the apotheosis of

brilliancy - genius. The sudden dart up, the terrifying drop down seemed

her main accomplishment. The wonder of it was that the men could never

tell where she would land. Did it seem that she was aiming near, a

sudden swoop would bring her to rest on a far-away spot. Was it certain

that she was making for a distant tree-top, an unexpected drop would

land her a few feet from their group. She was the only one of the

flying-girls who touched the earth. And she always led up to this feat

as to the climax of what Honey called her "act." She would drop to the

very ground, pose there, wavering like an enormous butterfly, her great

wings opening and shutting. Sometimes, tempted by her actual nearness

and fooled by her apparent weakness, the five men would make a rush in

her direction. She would stand waiting and drooping until they were

almost on her. Then in a flash came the tremendous whirr of her start,

the violent beat of her whipping progress - she had become a blue speck.