“Oh, yes—your plane,” mimicked Bill, grinning. “I brought it back for you. Here it is—about the biggest part of it.” He handed Saxton a fragment which looked like a piece of charcoal.
“That’s why it took me so long,” he explained. “I had to wait until the darned thing burned before I could get at the bullion. But I’ve got a ship now that makes yours look like just what it is—a pile of junk!”
“You win!” said Saxton, throwing his hands in the air in a burlesque sign of surrender. “You could win—all the stakes—any game you play.”
“I just might take you up on that,” Bill replied, and he looked meaningly at Ruth Saxton.
She did not drop her eyes this time. She was looking right back at him with that straight gray gaze of hers, and her eyes said more than words could ever express.
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the March 17, 1928 issue of Argosy-Allstory Weekly magazine.