"Might I ask the nature of your proposed trip?" asked Bruce—then bit his lip a second too late.
"You might not" The Major snapped out the words. Then in a kindlier tone, "My secret is not entirely my own. I can say, however, that it is not an exceedingly long trip, nor a dangerous one, as aviation goes, but it is an important one, and besides, if it comes out well, and I believe it will, I might wish to go on a more hazardous journey. In that case, of course, you can see I should wish a veteran pilot at the wheel and one who will take a chance."
He turned to Bruce. "You are a Canadian, are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then perhaps you can tell me of the whereabouts of this young Canadian aviator. His name is—" the Major stopped to think. "His name is—ah! I have it! It's Manning—Bruce Manning."
Bruce's jaw dropped in astonishment. He was too surprised to speak. It was Barney who, almost shouting in his excitement, said:
"He's Bruce Manning, Major."
"What?" The Major stood back and looked at Bruce. "You? Oh come; you are hardly more than a boy!"
"Yes," said Barney, "he's hardly more than a boy, but some of the best flyers the Allies had were hardly more than boys. They were boys when they went into it over there, but the boys who went up after the Germans two or three times came down men, Major. Don't forget that."
"You're right—and I beg your pardon," said the Major, bowing to them. "I spoke thoughtlessly. So then I have the good fortune to be speaking to the very man I seek?" he went on, turning to Bruce. "Now I suppose the remaining questions are: Will you be at liberty to take up aviation again and—do you want to?"