And then he added:
“Time: forty-eight seconds and seven-eighths.”
“Hurrah!” shouted John Parks, throwing his hat in the air.
CHAPTER XIV—THE OLD LEATHER POCKETBOOK
“No sky-sailing to-day, Andy,” said John Parks, the aeronaut.
“I guess you are right,” answered Andy.
“A rest won’t do you any harm. There are three days before the last event, and plenty of time to try Morse’s new wrinkles.”
“I think I’ll go and see what the latest one is,” said Andy.
It was a rainy day with a strong breeze, and waste of time, Andy well knew, to attempt any flights under the conditions. He went to the workshop to find Mr. Morse and the Japanese deep in discussion over some angle of a new reversible plane, they called it. Tsilsuma had become almost a fixture at the Parks’ camp. He was unobtrusive generally, but his instincts and mission to delve and absorb were accommodated and encouraged by the inventor, and a strong friendship had sprung up between the two.
Andy wandered about promiscuously, time hanging heavily on his hands. Finally he settled down in the comfortable sitting room looking over some books on scientific subjects, and picking out here and there a simple fact among a group of very abstruse ones.