"Yes, maybe there is. It all depends on how she turns out."
"You might be speaking of the Hawk or—Mary Nestor!" said Ned, with a sidelong look at his chum.
"As it happens, it's neither one," said Tom, and then he hastened away, to return shortly and guide his fleet little airship, the Hawk, on her aerial journey.
From then on, at least for some time, neither Tom nor Ned mentioned the matters they had been discussing—Tom's failure to enlist, his exemption, and what was being built in the closely guarded shop.
Tom's business in Sackett did not take him long, and then he and Ned went for a little ride in the air.
"It's like old times!" exclaimed Ned, his eyes shining, though Tom could not see them for two reasons. One was that Ned was sitting behind him, and the other was that Ned wore heavy goggles, as did the young pilot. Also, they had to carry on their talk through the speaking tube arrangement.
"Yes, it is a bit like old times," agreed Tom. "We've had some great old experiences together, Ned, haven't we?"
"We surely have! I wonder if we'll have any more? When we were in the submarine, and in your big airship. Say, that big one is the one I always liked! I like big things."
"Do you?" asked Tom. "Well, maybe, when I get—"
But Tom did not finish, for the Hawk unexpectedly poked her nose into an empty pocket in the air just then, and needed a firm hand on the controls. Furthermore, Tom decided against making the confidence that was on the tip of his tongue.