Peter and the Sword of Mercy by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson Page A

slowly moved up, then down, then up again.
    “It’s going to fly!” shouted Michael over the engine clatter.
    “Yes!” shouted Uncle Neville, admiring the sight. “I believe it is!”
    The wings were beating faster now.
    “Uncle Neville!” shouted John, as the ornithopter began bouncing up and down on its wheeled carriage.
    “What is it, lad?” shouted Uncle Neville.
    “Aren’t you going to get on it?” shouted John.
    “Oh my goodness!” cried Uncle Neville. He scurried around the side of the ornithopter, forced to take a long route to avoid the huge wings, now beating quite rapidly. Having cleared the wing, he lunged toward the pilot platform attached to the ornithopter frame.
    Too late. With a mighty downsweep of its wings, the ornithopter leaped off the ground, its wheels just shooting clear of Uncle Neville’s grasping fingers. He watched helplessly as his invention rose into the air and, gaining altitude, began to flap its way across the meadow. Uncle Neville began to run after it, puffing hard; he was followed by John and Michael, both whooping with delight.
    The three of them had gone about twenty yards when Uncle Neville, looking up at the ornithopter, failed to notice a molehill in front of him. He tripped on it and fell on his face with an oof; John and Michael, right behind, went down on top of him in a tangle of arms and legs. The three of them were struggling to their feet when the ornithopter emitted several loud bangs, then a series of wheezes. Then the engine went silent, and the wings stopped.
    “Oh dear,” said Uncle Neville, as the ornithopter began to come down. It descended in a gentle spiral, then picked up speed before crashing into the meadow with a whump and pitching over forward, very much as its inventor had. Uncle Neville, followed by John and Michael, puffed over to it. Wendy caught up with them a minute later. Uncle Neville was examining the frame, which was bent; one of the wings had broken off.
    “Nothing serious,” Uncle Neville said cheerfully. “I’ll have it ready to fly again in a day or so.” He looked sheepish. “This time, I’ll remember to get on.”
    “Uncle Neville is going to fly on the ornihopper!” said Michael.
    “Ornithopter,” said John.
    “That’s what I said,” said Michael.
    “Uncle Neville,” said Wendy, “do you think it’s wise to get on? I mean, it did come down rather hard.”
    “Nothing to worry about,” said Uncle Neville. “It just needs some adjusting.”
    “I see,” said Wendy. “Um, I was wondering if it would be all right if I went to the university today, to see an old friend of…”
    “The carburetor,” said Uncle Neville.
    “I beg your pardon?” said Wendy.
    “That’s what needs adjusting.”
    “I see,” Wendy said doubtfully. “So would it be all right if I went to see him?”
    “See who?”
    “The old family friend.”
    “Is he here?” said Uncle Neville, looking around the meadow.
    “No,” said Wendy. “He’s at the university.”
    Uncle Neville looked thoughtful for a few moments. Then he said, “I’ll need the screwdriver.”
    “I’ll get it!” said John, racing toward the barn.
    “I’ll get it, too!” said Michael, running behind his brother.
    Wendy stood watching Uncle Neville, who looked at his ornithopter, then at her.
    “We’re very close,” he said.
    “So it’s all right if I go to see him?” said Wendy.
    “Who?” said Uncle Neville.
    “The family friend,” said Wendy. “I’ll be back for supper.”
    “Oh, it’s far too early for supper,” said Uncle Neville. “I’ve just had breakfast.”
    “Right,” said Wendy. “Then I’ll see you later, when I get back from the university, all right?”
    Uncle Neville seemed not to hear her. He was looking at the ornithopter again.
    “Very close,” he said.

     
    Wendy was lucky: Uncle Neville’s groundskeeper was taking his wagon into Cambridge that morning for supplies, and he agreed to let Wendy ride along. He dropped