“Whew!” puffed Adeler. “Close call. Do you know what might have happened to us, if you hadn’t shut off that emergency-cock just in time, Hike?”
“Why, no—but I thought there was some fire coming from one of the cylinders.”
“There sure was. You know, on these motors with revolving cylinders, the exhaust-valve works automatically on a spring. Well, that spring broke. That let the fire spurt out—and it might have reached the fuel-tank. Know what might have happened then? Remember reading about several different aviators that got burned up, machines and all, up in the air? Well, fire reached their fuel tanks—that’s all. If you hadn’t jumped quick, every last plane might have been blazing, by now—and we burning alive, or blown to pieces. Hike, somehow, I’m glad you jumped quick!”
Hike didn’t say a word. He merely sat down and imitated the Lieutenant, by wiping his forehead.
Then he got up, as if very tired—he really was a bit wobbly, yet, after thinking what they had escaped.
“I guess I’d better see if we can’t get hold of a ranchero and a team, and get driven into the city, and have a spring sent out.”
“Yes, go ahead,” said the Lieutenant.
It was nearly noon, the next day, before he was able to send out a man with a repair-kit and assorted springs to the Lieutenant. Then he caught a train for San Francisco.
At last he was bound for the Academy again. For the first time since he had started for Mexico, he really remembered that he was a Sophomore at Santa Benicia, who might lose the glorious chance of playing in the San Dinero game because of his trip south.
In a few moments, he had become very much of a Santa Benician. The only question in the world was: