But Hal seemed less enthusiastic. His natural reticence, he felt, would make it torture for him to tell a story. It would be all right just for Bob—and he was even getting well enough acquainted with Captain Bill to tell his story in front of him—but this Pat McDermott—even his name sounded formidable. Captain Bill didn’t give him a chance to say aye, yea, or nay, but went on talking.
“I think that we ought to choose subjects that you two know about,” said Bill. “How about stories of the aviators—of Famous Flyers and their Famous Flights?”
“Great!” said Bob. “Gee, I want Lindbergh.”
“Lindbergh you shall have,” said Captain Bill. “What’s yours Hal?”
“I don’t know,” said Hal. “I’ll have to think it over. But—I think that I’d like to take the life of Floyd Bennett—if I may.”
“Of course,” said Bill. “I think that I’ll tell about Admiral Byrd—do you think he’d make a good story?”
“Marvelous!” said Bob, with his usual enthusiasm. “What’ll we leave for Pat?”
“Pat can take whomever he wants to take,” the Captain said. “He’ll have to take what’s left. That’s what he gets for coming late. But what do you say we wait to start the contest when Pat comes?”
“Yes, oh, yes, I think that that would be much better,” said Hal, relieved that the ordeal would at least be postponed, even if it could not be avoided altogether. “I think that we ought to wait until Mr. McDermott comes.”
The Captain laughed. “Don’t let him hear you call him ‘Mr. McDermott’” he said. “He’s Pat to everybody, and to you, too.”