“Sorry!” laughed Captain Anderson. “Not a bit, except for you. All I was doin’ was for fun and because you were so eager.”
“I know,” answered Andy quickly, “and you bet I’m grateful enough. I’m only gettin’ cold feet now because you’ve made such a dandy. If it was only my own work, a sort o’ patched up thing with a common engine, I’d bang away and take a chance in it, if I could. But I don’t believe there has ever been a better flyin’ machine made, and if I smashed her, I’d never forgive myself. But it ain’t because I’m afraid.”
“Then,” answered the old boat builder sympathetically, “we’ll finish the job if we never use the machine. It’ll be a nice piece of work—”
“And maybe something’ll happen,” interrupted the boy.
“There’s always a chance,” answered the man, with a big smile. “But I can’t see what can happen that’ll ever make it of use. Not unless the clouds part some day and drop a trained aviator at our feet—someone lookin’ for a job.”
“That’s it,” exclaimed the boy impulsively. “Not out of the clouds, of course. But, perhaps, maybe, someway, somehow such a man might happen along.”
The captain smiled and began to unfold his paper.
“Or,” went on Andy, “if he didn’t happen along, we might send for one—”
“Send for one!” exclaimed the man. “You mean hire an aviator to come down here into the wilderness?”