Remember, we haven't many of those, yet, and cannot afford to
lose any." As he said this, the officer laughed.
Jimmy felt he should have smiled, too, but his head was too full of
his job. He said "Yes, sir," quite seriously, and turned to give
his machine a final tuning up.
Jimmy jumped into the driving seat with a very determined feeling. He
must give a good account of himself, come what might. He fixed his
head-gear a bit tighter, pulled on his gloves, and tried the position
of his machine-gun. There it sat, just above the hood, a bit to the
right, almost in front of Jimmy. He felt a sudden affection for it.
How it would make some Boche sit up if he came into range!
The wheels were blocked with shaped pieces of wood, and Jimmy nodded
to his mechanics to start the engine. One whirl of the shining
blades, and the engine started, to roar away in deafening exuberance
of power as it warmed to its work. Something was not quite right.
The rhythm was not just perfect. Jimmy stopped the engine, ordered
a plug changed, and then, the order executed in a jiffy, nodded to
his men to once more start the motor.
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