“It’s only me,” said Mr. Chase, stepping into the sitting room of the aerodrome at the Parks’ camp.
“Well, no one is more welcome, Mr. Chase,” declared Andy heartily. “Come in, sit down, and make yourself at home.”
“Not till I ask a certain question,” dissented the grizzled lockup-keeper of Princeville.
“Fire away,” smiled Andy. “What’s the question?”
“Can you get me a job?”
“Right off, and a good one,” responded Andy promptly. “My employer, Mr. Parks, is going into the airship line as a regular professional, and I don’t know a better all-round handy man I would recommend sooner than you.”
“All right,” said Chase, with a sigh of relief, dropping into a chair and placing a bulging, ancient carpet bag on the floor. “I’m done with lockups.”
“Is that so, Mr. Chase?”
“It is, and with that conscienceless old grafter, Talbot. You know I told you I was waiting for something when I last saw you.”
“Yes,” nodded Andy.