"So you've been up," observed Uncle Brian. "How did you like it?"
"Not so dusty," replied Peter. "Those poor blighters under instruction didn't seem to revel in it, though."
"They wouldn't," rejoined Uncle Brian. "That flying-boat is of an old type, and is used only for instructional purposes. She's known to the instructors here as El Boyeta—the Emetic. So you weren't ill? Capital; you'll make a good airman, I can see."
"And the sooner the better," added his nephew.
CHAPTER VIII
Uncle Brian's Secret
Brian Strong did not carry out his promise to show Peter his anti-aircraft invention that evening. Nor did he for several days. Circumstances prevented it. There was a steady stream of callers—Rioguayan officials to discuss matters concerning the development of the Mercantile Air Service. They were delightfully polite, because they had not the slightest suspicion that Brian Strong knew they were trying to bluff him, and the Englishman was equally cautious to convey the impression that he was working merely for the industrial good of the republic.
All things considered, Peter was enjoying himself. He entered whole-heartedly into his part of the contract: to aid his relative to the utmost to circumvent the Rioguayan authorities in the scheme to twist the British lion's tail. In his spare time he devoted himself to learning the language of the country, his instructor being a Rioguayan employee who had lived in New York for nearly twenty years. Much of his time was spent in the engineering shops, while opportunities were given him to take practical instruction in managing the controls of a planeless flying-boat, in which all would-be pilots had to qualify before entering into the actual conditions of flight.
Thus a week went by and still the building that held Uncle Brian's secret device remained a sealed book to him. In fact, Brian Strong was so busy with work that demanded the almost constant presence of Don Ramon Diaz and his colleagues, that he himself had to steer clear of the experimental room.