He had hardly said this than the purser was upon him:
“Smart trick!” he snarled. “Thought you’d balk us. Took out the gasoline and filled the tank with coal dust!” He seemed about to strike Pant.
With a tiger-like spring, Pant leaped back.
“Better not.” His voice was low, like the warning hiss of a panther.
The purser hesitated.
“Let me tell you something,” Pant said evenly. “There isn’t a drop of gasoline on this island as far as I know; not a drop in that plane, either, but all the same, she’ll fly for a man who understands her.
“Now, I’ll tell you what,” he went on. “You come over to the plane with me. Look her all over. See if there is any gasoline on her. Then you let me try to get her going. See if I can’t do it.”
“All right.” The other man’s smile showed his incredulity.
Together in the canvas boat they went out to the plane. Carefully the purser looked the plane over, then expressing himself satisfied that there was no gasoline on board, he seated himself carelessly astride the fuselage, and with a mock-smile, said:
“All right. Let’s see you start her.”