“Don’t you, just? But there’s not a chance. You couldn’t get in on that trip if you was disguised as a tin of biscuit. There will be millionaires that would get into overalls and carry oil cans to get to go.”
“Of course,” said David. “But I can’t help wishing. Wouldn’t you like it?”
“Me? Boy, I’d hang on to a rudder blade with me right hand from here to Japan, and then merely shift to the left. Like to go? Lord love me, David, wouldn’t I just!”
David sat staring at the silver ship. Men scrambled about her, popping in and out of the openings.
“Listen, Davie,” said Red. “Don’t let your right ear know what I’ve poured into your left. My brother used to tell me, ‘Whatever you hear, me young buckaroo, keep it under your hat.’ But he wouldn’t have counted you, David. ‘Keep it to yourself,’ says he. ‘If it is trash, don’t clutter the highways wid it. If it is something worth while, lock it up, Red; lock it up, like you would a dimant, till the fella that owns it wants to use it.’”
“I won’t say anything,” promised David. “You certainly like that Padre of yours, don’t you?”
“So-so,” said Red, chuckling. “He’s grand if you’re dyin’ I’ve been told, but he’s sure a murderin’ cuss, so be you don’t walk straight whilst you’re enjoyin’ your usual health. Come on, let’s go down town and have a sody.”
David was not listening. He pulled a worn notebook from his pocket and commenced to study its grimy pages.
“Come on, fella!” repeated Red. “Leap into the Rolls-Worse. I’m starvin’ for a sody.”
“I’m glad they used that new kind of covering, with those tricky interwoven seams,” said David dreamily, ignoring the appeal of the starving one. “They are going to save lots of worry, Red, and it’s certain they won’t give. That old blimp we tried it on with rips here and there to give the wind a chance, you remember? The seams never budged. The new alloy duralumin I like too, and the longer, slimmer line of the hull.”