“Oh, what the ——’s the use?” Kink started, and then stopped.
He climbed in the front cockpit, his face sullen and his blue eyes glinting. Finley picked up two sizable rocks for wheelblocks, and then swung the propeller as Forell handled switches and throttle. The Liberty, still warm, caught at once, and idled along sweetly.
Forell turned it up a little, and tried it on either switch. He put it through its paces, with the spark in all positions, and it seemed to Finley that he was disappointed because it fired without a miss.
Suddenly the motor died, and Forell was on the ground.
“Well, let’s get started for help!” he barked. “I’ll go and you guard the ship.”
“Go for help, nothing,” Finley told him, putting the tool-kit away. “We’re going to take off!”
“Are you crazy!” yelled Forell, his face pale and drawn. “Why, ——, there isn’t a Chinaman’s chance of getting out of here!”
“The —— there isn’t,” Finley said levelly, his eyes not two feet from Forell’s. “Listen. We get the ship up in the upper right hand corner here, swing her around, and block the wheels. Give her the gun, and right after she’s hopped the blocks she’ll be under full steam. Go diagonally for the left hand side of the tree, and right there swing her with right rudder to the lower right hand corner. That’ll give us several extra yards.”
“——! You must be going blind! Why listen, you superannuated old fool, we’d crash into those trees just as sure as we’re standing here!”
“We would not,” Finley said slowly.