“Walker, I don’t want to bother with you. I think too little of you and what you’ve done to prefer charges against you. Now, Walker, get off this field. Get off! If you show your face on it again, man, I’ll break you with my bare hands!”
Alton didn’t usually say much, but this was plenty for the occasion, and he meant every word. Alton’s contempt was worse than a lickin’ for Walker to take. Let loose, he shambled away, looks of disgust and hate followin’ him. When he disappeared around the hangars, the field seemed like a better place to stay.
Mr. Alton spoke quietly now to the boys, askin’ ’em to look over the planes careful, suggestin’ that a guard be put around the hangars tonight so that nothin’ could happen to the planes before the start of the air race the next day; and they’d better keep a gun handy; and—
“Ned!” Jane called out, not bein’ able to hold herself in any longer. “Please, let’s get another plane out and go right back up!”
“Jane,” Mr. Alton said, “I want to talk with Ned a little, so you’d better let the flyin’ go a while. Benny, is that ship damaged much?”
“No, sir,” I answered. “By adjusting the timer and putting in a screen, and some new ignition wires—they’re burned off—she’ll be shipshape again.”
“Start on it right away,” Mr. Alton told me. “Ned, how did the ship feel today?”
“Better than ever before,” Knight answered. “Jane was at the stick, but I could feel the pull of the new prop. We get the proper revs now when we’re climbing.”
“The stabilizer?”