Matt laughed.
"Why, Cameron," he answered, "I used to work in a motor plant, in Albany, New York."
"That may be, Matt, but building a motor is a different proposition from building a flying machine."
"Traquair laid down the plans. All I have to do is to follow them. It's really very simple. An aëroplane, you know, is nothing more than two oblong pieces of canvas, fastened together one above the other and pushed against the air by a motor and propeller. If the motor drives the wings fast enough, they're sure to stay up."
But Cameron shook his head and continued to believe that Motor Matt was something of a phenomenon, whereas Matt knew that he had merely the "knack" for the work, just as he had acquired the "knack" for using the aëroplane in the first place.
"The machine," he declared to Cameron, "is only a big toy."
"Toy?" echoed Cameron. "It's more than that, Matt."
"For the army and navy, yes. Aëroplanes can be used for scouting purposes and for dropping bombs down on hostile armies and war ships—providing they can keep clear of bullets and shells fired from below; but, even for such work, the aëroplane has its limitations."
"The government," laughed Cameron, "is buying these Traquair aëroplanes in spite of their limitations."
"Our war department," answered Matt, "has got to keep abreast of other war departments, and poor Traquair has given you fellows the best aëroplane so far invented."