"Is going to take on some when she knows you have gone."
"As long as the steamship is off Sandy Hook when she learns the Great Secret, what care I?" returned the aviator, shrugging his shoulders. "And do, for goodness sake, talk of something else. There may be a swift and messy end before me, but at least I sha'n't be talked to death by a Flora McFlimsey over there in France."
"No," Jim admitted. "There is something in that, I allow. However, I'll not weep over you yet, my boy. You've pulled through many a tight place and escaped many a threatened danger."
The other nodded. "I don't expect anything more serious to happen to me serving in the Lafayette Escadrille than might occur if I remained here and continued to make exhibition flights. Over there I'll be with the finest bunch of fellows in the world, and be doing something."
"Ye-es," hesitated his brother. "But what are you going to do it for Sandy?"
"Mixed reasons," returned the aviator frankly. "It's exciting, of course. Then, there is one's desire, when one can, to pitch in and help people who are putting up such a tremendously plucky fight as the French are. There's another, too."
"Yes?"
"It's coming to us. Before this thing is settled—war, I mean—and settled for good and all, Uncle Sam is bound to get into it."
"I'm afraid you are right, Sandy," sighed the more conservative Jim. "But I hate to see it come."
"Of course. All you conservative business men do. But you'd better be prepared," the younger man said, wagging his head. "And that's my main object in going to the war zone, after all."