In Melbourne, Andy was greeted by a clerk from the general store. He had a message received by telephone from Captain Anderson. In addition to the things the boy was to get, there was a new list, which included more straight-grained and knotless pine.
The rather delicate question of who was to pay for the needed material might have embarrassed the boy and his mother had not Captain Anderson made it easy by assuming half the expense as a partner and insisting on paying for the other half until Mr. Leighton could send a check for it.
The aeroplane architects were most anxious to secure a quantity of No. 12 piano wire for bracing the aeroplane, but as there was none available, Andy took an entire roll of the same size in plain steel. The next anxiety was that they might not be able to find needed turn-buckles for tightening the bracing wires. The store had a few—a little larger than absolutely necessary—and the town boatmaker had, fortunately, enough more to fill out Andy’s list.
He searched the town for shoemaker’s twist, but shoemaking seemed to have gone out of style, and he had to content himself with what approximated it, a skein of fine thread-like linen cord used by fishermen in making nets. As he could not get shoemaker’s wax to wax it, he bought a cake of beeswax.
The selecting of the wood screws, which had to be of various and exact sizes, was a task that Andy relegated to the storekeeper while he visited the lumber yard.
“Spruce is really what we want,” explained the boy to the proprietor, who also ran the livery stable, “but we’ll have to use pine—”
“Spruce?” exclaimed the dealer. “Then I’m your boy, if this’ll do.” He led Andy to a bundle of boards, 2 × 2 stuff, and some thin rib-like slats. “This is spruce.”
“How’d you happen to have that down here?” exclaimed Andy.
“I’ve had it two years,” answered the man. “I got it for two college boys from Boston, who were going to make two racin’ shells. But they didn’t make nothin’ but a lot of bills and some quick tracks.”