"This contraption is a--er--I--I think Dick calls it an
hydro-aeroplane. It has pontoons and things growing all over it for
duck stunts and if the water wasn't so infernally still, I'd be
floating and smoking and likely in time I'd make shore. That's a
delightful pastime for you now," he added with a lazy smile of the
utmost good humor, "to float and smoke on a summer day and grab at the
shore."
"I was under the impression," commented Diane critically, "that in an
hydro-aeroplane one could rise from the water like a bird. I've read
so recently."
"One can," smiled the shipwrecked philosopher readily, "provided his
motor isn't deaf and dumb and insanely indifferent to suggestion. When
it grows shy and silent, one swims eventually and drips home, unless a
dog barks and a rescuer emerges from the trees equipped with sympathy
and common sense. I've a mechanician back there," he added sociably.
"He--he's in a tree, I think. I--er--mislaid him in a very dangerous
air current."
"Are you aware," inquired the girl, biting her lip, "that you're
trespassing?"
"Lord, no!" exclaimed the aviator. "You don't mean it. Have you by
any chance a reputable rope anywhere about you?"
"No," said Diane maliciously, "I haven't. As a rule, I do go about
equipped with ropes and hooks and things to--rescue trespassing
hydroaviators, but--" she regarded him thoughtfully.
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