"—an' when you git done doin' them things," Hank persisted gravely, "I want you should git up steam. An' push for'rd as hard an' as fast as you can. With—" He swallowed hard. "With the auxil'ry use o' that new speed gadget Lootenant Biggs invented."
Garrity almost strangled, but he got the words out.
"Yes ... sorr!" Then he faded from the plate. Biggs stared at Hank.
"You—you're sure you know what you're doing, Cleaver?"
"I think I do," said Horse-sense Hank. "It's the only thing makes sense. I figgered an' figgered, and it looks to me like there's only one logical way to act. We'll know in a minute if I'm right."
He dug his toe into the carpet, sort of grunted, coughed, glanced at Biggs.
"Got a mite excited about me not bein' married, son. I been thinkin' that over. You mean to say—"
Biggs, looking confused, said,
"But you see, Hank—"
"Yeah. Reckon I do. An' you—an' you—"