"Ah, does monsieur mean that I have poor eyesight?"
The question was snapped out so suddenly, and with such a menacing tone that Tom glanced up quickly. He was surprised at the look in the man's eyes.
"Just as you choose to take it," was the cool answer. "I don't know anything about your eyes, but I know I've got work to do."
"Monsieur is insulting!" rasped out the seeming farmer. "He is not polite. He is not a Frenchman."
"Now that'll do!" cried Tom, thoroughly aroused. "I don't want to be too short with you, but I've really got to get this done. One side, if you please," and having finished what he was doing, he started toward the airship.
Whether in his haste Tom did not notice where he was going, or whether the man deliberately got in his way I cannot say, but at any rate they collided and the seeming farmer went spinning to one side, falling down.
"Monsieur has struck me! I am insulted! You shall pay for this!" he cried, jumping to his feet, and making a rush for our hero.
"All right. It was your own fault for bothering me but if you want anything I'll give it to you!" cried Tom, striking a position of defense.
The man was about to rush at him, and there would have been a fight in another minute, had not Mr. Petrofsky, stepping to the open window of the pilot house, called out:
"Tom! Tom! Come here, quick. Never mind him!"