"Yes, do!" cried Joyce. "It will be such fun to fly it."
"Well," said Grandpa, "you children hunt around and find some sticks.
Then ask Grandma for some paper and paste and string; and bring them out
to the woodshed, and I'll try my hand at making a kite."
After it was made, they had to let it lie in the sun for a while, to
dry. Then they took it out to the pasture. There was a soft breeze
blowing, and Grandpa said the kite ought to fly. Don took the string and
ran along with it for quite a distance. The wind lifted it a little; but
after it had darted back and forth, it fell on the ground. This happened
several times, and at last Grandpa said, "It's too bad, children, but
my kite won't fly. But I'll see if I can make something else for you."
Then Grandpa took some thin boards and whittled out darts. He took a
short stick, and tied a string to it; and then he fitted the string in
a notch which he had cut in one end of the dart. He threw the dart up
in the air, ever so high. It came down just a few yards from Don. The
sharp end stuck fast; and there it stood, upright in the ground.
Don was as much pleased with this as he would have been with a kite that
would fly.
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