This somewhat allayed Jim’s fears—fears that vanished when the professor went on to explain somewhat the working of his mechanism.
“But how are you going to get the thing out there?” he asked, picturing with a shudder the center of the flaming hell.
“I imagine the War Department will provide me with a volunteer plane and pilot for the purpose,” was the calm reply.
“And you will go?”
“Yes, I will go.”
Jim debated, but not for long.
“Well, you needn’t trouble the War Department. Here’s your volunteer pilot! The plane’s outside. When do we start?”
“But, my dear young man!” objected the professor. “I cannot permit you to make this sacrifice. It is suicide, sheer suicide.”
“Is my life any more precious than yours, or that of some volunteer Army pilot?” Jim asked him.
“But there is Joan. If I fail—she must depend on you.”