“I’m only afraid of your breaking your neck.”
“Were you afraid Osborne would break his neck?”
“That’s different—he’s an expert.”
“‘Expert’,” repeated Andy. “I’ll be an expert when I’ve had the practice. And how will I get it? Not by readin’ about airships.”
“Settle it with your mother,” exclaimed the captain. “I certainly won’t object, if she don’t.”
Although Andy’s head was now brimming full of his great, but sleeping, project, he was not yet ready to consult his mother about it. As another step in his great plan, however, he obtained permission to go to his uncle’s house, one of the conditions being that he was to bring back some fruit. Although Ba had been watchman for three nights, none knew when he slept. And as soon as Andy got out the Red Bird’s oars, the negro made ready to accompany him.
Andy’s mind was on other things, but he never neglected an opportunity to talk to the Bahaman. Usually he approached the subject diplomatically. That morning on the way to Goat Creek, he was out of sorts. Therefore, and much to his own surprise, he blurted out:
“Why don’t you tell me about that Timbado place, Ba? What are you afraid of?”
For a moment the colored man gave no sign in face or gesture that he heard. Then, as in the past, his lips began to twitch and his narrow brow grew narrower.
“You ain’t go on dat Timbado?” he repeated, his usual slow-witted question.