“Course!” the Shark shrugged. “And if I didn’t find the game worth the candle, you don’t think, do you, that I’d be fussing with this scheme of Poke’s? There’d be a deal easier way to answer the question whether or not his machine would fly—the empirical way.”
“Eh? What’s that?”
“Let him try to fly and see what happens.”
“But he might break his neck.”
“Well, he’d have the answer then, wouldn’t he?”
“Maybe—but it wouldn’t do him much good.”
“True—but the question would be answered,” observed the Shark, unemotionally. “That’s the main point of interest.”
Sam did not think it worth while to dispute the assertion. Instead, he left the Shark to his calculations, and hied him to Poke’s barn.
There a glance revealed much apparent progress. Motor and plane had been brought together—assembled, as Poke hastened to explain.
“If this were a boat, we’d be ready for dock trials,” said he. “That’ll show you how far we’ve got along.”