“Got something for the aviator down there in the valley. Want to take it?”
“Sure do!” Johnny’s reply was full of enthusiasm. “He helped us take your grandfather to the hospital. Never forget that.”
“We sure won’t, Johnny. Just now he wants some liquid air. This is the tenth order I have received from him. He wants ten gallons. It’s ready, so if you’ll take it down, you’ll be doing me a great favor.”
“Liquid air,” said Johnny. “What does he want with liquid air?”
“Don’t know. Going to peddle it, like as not. Good profit in it. And an airplane’s the thing for carrying it. Gets it there quick so there’s little loss by evaporation.”
“Mebby that’s it,” Johnny agreed. Down deep in his mind, however, he did not agree. He had quite another notion, a very startling notion it was too.
“More foot-pounds of energy,” he muttered as he went on his way. “Wonder if that could be true.”
“Good!” exclaimed the young aviator, as, an hour later, Johnny appeared with a two wheel cartload of liquid air. “I’m just wanting that.”
“So you’re really going to use it?” Johnny grinned. “I thought so.”
“Going to use it,” the man stared at him. “Sure I am! Why not?”