"Eight hundred dollars, eh?" Mr. Phipps seemed to be turning the matter over in his mind.
"But you've lost a thousand dollars' worth of sheep already," urged Herb, feeling that this was the time to press his strongest arguments. "If it keeps on we won't have any sheep left. Besides, you know that the ponies got frightened a little while ago and broke down part of the corral. What if they'd all get out and run away? They're worth two thousand dollars themselves. And gee whiz, Dad, think of what I'd learn in helping to build an aeroplane. Just what I want."
Tender Gray gave Herb's arm a squeeze while the other boys regarded him with grateful eyes.
"How long would it take to get this material?" asked Mr. Phipps, seeming to disregard his son's remarks.
"About a week. I can get most of the stuff from Kansas City. The northern spruce comes from Denver. I'd have to order the bamboo from a New York house. My engine is at Fort Omaha."
"I suppose you would teach the boys how to run the machine," queried the rancher, who appeared to have reached his decision and merely wished further assurance.
"Oh, certainly, that is part of the plan," responded the aviator.
"Well then, go ahead and get things together as soon as you can. But I guess a government aviator knows his business." Extending his cigar case to Mr. Hawke, the southerner prepared for a leisurely smoke, as if, having settled the question, he would worry no more about it. Mr. Hawke settled back into the depths of his large wicker chair and lighted his cigar.
The boys, however, did not take the matter so calmly. They broke into excited yells of delight. Herb and Tender Gray did something like an Indian war dance on the front steps. Fred was pummelling Jerry with a will, and Dunk and Fly stood talking with bright eager faces, making gestures with their hands and arms. The Indian, though he smiled with satisfaction, sat quietly and looked on.
"Gee, Dad, you're a brick," exclaimed Herb, slapping his father affectionately on the back.