“What’s the use of ‘only’ and ‘if’ and ‘but’ and all such discouraging talk? You’ll never get anywhere by it.”
“The Saracen’s in grand voice—I’ll say so much for him,” Herman volunteered.
“Ho, ho! That isn’t a marker to his performance when he really gets going and warms up.”
Tom Orkney had been regarding the machine intently. “Look here, Step!” he said. “You’ve no self-starter. What’ll you do if the motor stops when you’re doing loops half a mile up?”
It was Poke who made answer. “Huh! What good would a self-starter do?”
“Well, I’d hate to have to get out of the seat and try to walk around on air and crank up,” Orkney pointed out.
Poke reddened. “Much you fellows know about flying! Of course you can’t walk around on air, and rest wrenches on clouds, or crawl under the machine to see what’s wrong! You don’t do things that way.”
“Well, what do you do?”
“Give us a dress rehearsal,” suggested the Trojan.
“I will!” cried Poke excitedly, and climbed to the seat of the Saracen’s driver. There he settled himself, swiftly tested a brace of levers, twanged the wire braces experimentally, and nodded to Step.