This exclamation also came in chorus from half a dozen astonished Boy Scouts.
“Yes,” answered the crippled aviator; “it’s on its way out here. But it isn’t put together ready to fly. It’s in the knock-down. I’m going to give you boys the job of putting it together.”
“Oh!—when will it be here?” asked one enthusiastic youngster.
“In a week. Dr. Byrd and I had several talks about the matter, and he’s decided to let you boys have the job. I won’t be strong enough to do much on it myself, but I’ll be on hand and boss.”
“What kind is it going to be?” asked Pickles. “Like the one you fell in?”
“Not exactly. It’ll be a biplane, but a much better one than the Ozone.”
“What’s the Ozone?” inquired Ferdinand.
“That’s the name of the biplane I fell in. The new one will carry two passengers besides the operator.”
“Oh, ain’t that fine!” cried Glen Juza. “It’s just swell. And can we all have a ride?”
“Oh-ho,” laughed Miles. “I thought it would come to that. But it really isn’t up to me to decide. I might say yes, and Dr. Byrd might say no. He probably would.”