“As if I’d ever specialized on aeronautics! Why, I’ve got to dig the whole thing out!”
“Then you haven’t given your opinion yet?” Sam asked.
“Of course not!” cried the Shark; then he grinned. “I did tell Poke one thing, though. I showed him he’d made his first design of a plane so wide he couldn’t get the contraption through the barn door, no matter how he turned it.”
Poke’s face grew a rosy red. “Oh, that! Well, I guess we did make a little miscalculation. But it didn’t matter. All we’ve got to do is to make up for reduced plane area by increasing the speed of the machine—speeding up the propeller and engine, you know.”
“I don’t know,” said Sam. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Well, I’m right about it. You see, the faster we fly, the bigger the lift. I’ve read that, and it’s plain as the nose of your face, anyway.”
Sam looked his doubts. “I should think there might be trouble in increasing the power indefinitely.”
“Oh, Step’s worked out a plan—have the propeller turn three times, say, instead of two for every revolution of the engine—that’s the idea. I don’t know just the ratio—I’m leaving it to Step and the Shark. But it’ll be all right. The Shark’s a wizard for figuring, and Step’s a cracker jack on the mechanical end!”
“Well, you’ve got to do the best you can with things,” remarked Step complacently.
Sam glanced at the motor. “How’s the wreck working?” he inquired.