"That's what I was thinking, when I heard Traquair had been killed, and that there was an advertisement in the newspapers for a man of nerve. But, somehow, I feel pretty confident of the outcome, now that I know you are to boss the air flights. Let's see. I think Glennie wrote me you had had some experience with a dirigible balloon?"
"Yes, I served my apprenticeship at that sort of flying before I tied up with the submarine."
"Then you can't be called a new hand at the game."
"Sailing a dirigible balloon is a whole lot different from driving an aëroplane."
"Learn it well, Motor Matt, whatever you do. According to conditions governing the aëroplane trial, you've got to stay in the air two hours, make not less than thirty miles an hour, and carry a passenger. I'm to be the passenger."
So long as Matt had only his neck to think about, the situation was tolerably clear; but, now that he knew he had to carry the lieutenant along, he began to worry a little.
"I didn't know that part of it before," said Matt gravely.
"Don't fret, pard," put in McGlory, turning around in his seat. "If the lieutenant hasn't got the nerve, why, I'll go with you. And I reckon you know about how much I enjoy the prospect of flyin'."
"You can't cut me out of that, McGlory," declared Cameron. "Why, if Mrs. Traquair hadn't found some one to navigate the aëroplane, I was thinking seriously of offering to do it myself. I was attached to the balloon corps, for a while, but I'm handicapped by a very imperfect knowledge of gas engines. You're the fellow for the job, all right, Matt, and you can bet something that I'll not pass up the chance of flying with you. Know anything about the Traquair aëroplane?"