“There you go,” broke in Mr. Atkinson. Then he whirled toward the boy. “Your father seems to think this is charity, Roy,” he added. “He don’t understand that corporations like this or the Utah company have no funds set aside for charity. Will you take it?”
Roy looked at him soberly a moment.
“Mr. Atkinson,” he said at last, “Mr. Cook offered that one thousand dollars because he was mighty anxious to get some one to do something that was well worth the money, in his judgment. You just put it aside till I come back. Then I’ll know whether his judgment was right. If I think I’ve earned it, I’ll take it.”
Mr. Atkinson’s eyes snapped.
“I don’t know but you’re right,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “What do you say, Osborne?”
“I guess there isn’t much chance but that he’ll earn it all right,” he said. “He can go. Keep the money for him.”
Without further comment he left the office.
For a few moments the president of the aeroplane company sat in silence. Then he turned to his desk and wrote out an order. As he sat with it in his hand, he said:
“My boy, I understand what it means to your father. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. But I had to take chances—so does any man who wants to go ahead of the crowd. You can take care of yourself. So go ahead.”
“When ought I to start?” asked Roy.