“We must have something to eat,” Brown remarked, laying out some provisions which he had brought with him.
“Afterwards.”
“No, now,” said the stolid mechanician. “I am half starved.” He pulled up to the table and made a hearty meal, while his Celtic companion strode impatiently up and down, with twitching fingers and restless eyes.
“Now then,” said Brown, facing round, and brushing the crumbs from his lap, “who is to put it on?”
“I shall,” cried his companion eagerly. “What we do to-night is likely to be historic.”
“But there is some danger,” suggested Brown. “We cannot quite tell how it may act.”
“That is nothing,” said Pericord, with a wave of his hand.
“But there is no use our going out of our way to incur danger.”
“What then? One of us must do it.”
“Not at all. The motor would act equally well if attached to any inanimate object.”