Glad to act as showman, Andy led his new friend back along the beach to the Pelican. In the short trip he related how he came to be in possession of the aeroplane, how it was made, and finally he told of his parents, his late uncle, and of Captain Anderson. Reaching the car he explained it in detail, and then while the Englishman stood back as if to feast his eyes on the wonder, Andy said:
“If you don’t mind, I’ll have a bite of lunch and a drink.”
As if embarrassed, the stranger raised his hand.
“Excuse me, my boy—I might have known. Can’t you postpone your refreshment until we can reach my schooner?”
Andy thought a moment.
“I don’t like to leave the machine here—I think I’ll make a little flight and take it around in the cove.”
“Excellent,” agreed the man. “I’ll be proud,” he went on, with a smile and bowing, “to be host to both the aeroplane and the aviator. And I’ll watch—”
A mischievous look came into Andy’s eyes. Some distance ahead of him the hard beach reached back over a gentle incline that made its way like a wide road between the fence-like cocoas.
“I’ll have to get the car up there,” he said, “to get up momentum. Do you mind giving me a hand?”