“Night flights,” answered Roy.
“You don’t have to work at night, do you?” exclaimed his mother.
“There isn’t any aviators’ union yet, mother,” answered Roy, good naturedly. “It’s just possible I might find it necessary.”
“Well, I wouldn’t,” retorted Mrs. Osborne. “That’s just the trouble with your father. He never knows when to quit work. I—”
But Roy again interrupted his mother’s criticism by showing her a picture of a compact, aluminum mess kit, weighing only two pounds and five ounces. It contained a three-pint canteen, a frying pan with a folding handle, a felt-lined cover for keeping things hot, a knife, fork and a spoon, and cost $4.50.
Then followed small articles: A soft rubber drinking cup, 20 cents; a safety pocket ax with steel lined guard, $1.60; an electric search or flash light, with extra batteries, $3.00; a waterproof handy compass to be pinned to the shirt, $1.15; a hundred-mile pedometer adjustable to any step, $1.00; and a five-inch hunting knife, with bone chopper back, $2.00.
“What does it all come to?” asked his mother, when Roy signified that the list was complete.
He announced the total—$106.55.
“Gracious me, Roy, that’s a lot of money.”
“To you and me, mother,” said the boy, with a laugh. “But I’m going into business now. It takes money to do things right.”