“Whoop!” exclaimed La Mothe. “At what and wherefore?”
“Fred,” Potter said, “I want to talk things over with you and some of the boys. I’m going to need your help—all the fellows who are in the automobile game. I’ve laid around for three months with nothing to do but think, and I’m here to say that the old stuff doesn’t go. We’ve got to take off our coats and get to work.”
“At what?” said La Mothe.
“Aeroplanes,” said Potter.
“I thought you had about all the aeroplane that was coming to you. Why aeroplanes?”
“The country’s going to need them, and Detroit’s got to make the engines. You seemed to be surprised that the war had lasted a year, Mr. Cantor. My idea is that it’s just begun. It’ll spread, and it will spread to us. We’ll be in it.”
“Rats!” said La Mothe; but Potter was aware of Cantor’s close scrutiny, and of an expression on the older man’s face which baffled solution.
“Germany has run wild with the notion of grabbing the world,” Potter said. “If she gets away with Europe we’ll come next.”
“Fat chance. Germany doesn’t want any of our action. Look how she backed down on the submarine stuff.”
“You’ve got the old notion, Fred, that nobody can get at us and that we can lick all creation. If Germany’s hands were free she could land an army on our coast, and before we could start to get ready to fight we’d be licked. We’re like cake in an unlocked cupboard, and Germany’s a hungry boy. We’d be gobbled.”