Andy explained, walking by his friend’s side.
“Seems to me you’ve begun that line o’ reasoning pretty late,” commented the captain, as he filled his morning pipe. “To tell the truth, I haven’t bothered about it because I’ve thought all along that your mother would first object and then relent. And I supposed anyone could operate an aeroplane who had the nerve—”
“That’s it,” acknowledged Andy, “they can’t. I’m not afraid, but a fellow ought to begin with a gliding machine and learn how to handle it—get used to dips, angles, and darts, and what’s necessary to correct ’em. If he don’t do that, he should, at least, go up several times with someone who can tell him all about it.”
The captain drew on his pipe slowly.
“Then what have we been breakin’ our backs over?” he asked soberly. “All along we’ve been makin’ something we haven’t any use for.”
“I don’t agree with you there,” answered Andy positively. “It is of some use—we found we could make it.”
“Humph!” exclaimed the captain. “I could have told you that; I wouldn’t have begun her if I hadn’t known that.”
“You’re not sorry, are you?” asked the lad, a little plaintively.