"Don't worry, Deveaux," advised John quickly. "We won't feel bad over a little thing like that."
"That your plane over there?" asked the swarthy fellow.
"That's it; quite a strong resemblance to yours here," said John with cutting sarcasm.
"That's so," was Deveaux's comment, casting a quick look toward Mr. Wrenn. Apparently he was as anxious to drop the subject as a chicken would a red-hot kernel of corn, for he immediately observed, with an ill-concealed sneer: "I suppose you guys think you're going to leave us a good ways behind in this race?"
"We're not telling what we think," put in Paul; "but one thing is sure: we're going to keep you hustling some."
"Oh, that's too bad, now, ain't it?" drawled Oliver Torrey, as he leered out of one eye.
"Say, kid, we'll beat youse so bad you'll be squallin' before you're half-way round the globe," put in Sam Lane.
"You bet! Ain't no use o' flying against such veterans as us," supplemented Chuck Crossman, with a wag of his frowsy head.
Mr. Wrenn frowned. While these might be his own men, it was hard to countenance such bragging.