Jack and Tom exchanged anxious glances. Perhaps, after all, the plans that had looked so rosy were to fall through.
“I haven’t the slightest doubt after what I have seen of her that the White Shark can survive any test that may be placed upon her. The fact that I am willing to take my lads along should prove my faith in your craft.”
“Thank you, Chadwick,” said the inventor with grateful eyes, “then the last objection on my part is removed. But when I have sold my craft to some government—I hope to Uncle Sam’s—I must repay you——”
Mr. Chadwick waved his hand as if brushing aside the idea.
“You have repaid me far more than I can ever give you by affording me such an opportunity, Dancer,” he said earnestly.
“So then it’s all settled,” cried Tom with shining eyes.
Moved by a common impulse the boys, glowing with excitement, clasped hands and a wild war dance took place.
As they paused, out of breath from their exertions, Mr. Chadwick, in business-like tones, asked:
“When can you be ready to sail?”
“By midnight,” said the inventor after a rapid mental calculation.