"We're over at the bookkeeping shack—the office of the construction company," said Barney, red with embarrassment. "He—that is, my bunkie here, knows more about those boats than I do. Say, if we can be any help to you, we'll jump at the chance. Won't we, Bruce?"
"Surest thing," grinned Bruce, as they turned regretfully toward the dull office and duller work.
"Say, you don't suppose," exclaimed Barney that night at supper—"you remember those awful wide planes of the Major's? You don't suppose he's starting for—" Barney hesitated.
"You don't mean?—" Bruce hesitated in turn.
"Sure! The Pole; you don't suppose he'd try it?"
"Of course not," exclaimed Bruce, the conservative. "Who ever thought of going to the Pole in a plane through Canada?"
"Bartlett's got a plan of going to the Pole in a plane."
"But he's going from Greenland," said Bruce. "That's different."
"Why"
"Steamboat. Farthest point of land north and everything."