m seem sturdier
than he was; above his disengaging face was a white German cap that was
altogether too big for him, and his trousers were crumpled up his legs
and their ends tucked into the rubber highlows of a deceased German
aeronaut. He looked an inferior, though by no means an easy inferior,
and instinctively they hated him.

The Prince pointed to the flying-machine and said something in broken
English that Bert took for German and failed to understand. He intimated
as much.

"Dummer Kerl!" said the bird-faced officer from among his bandages.

The Prince pointed again with his undamaged hand. "You verstehen dis
drachenflieger?"

Bert began to comprehend the situation. He regarded the Asiatic machine.
The habits of Bun Hill returned to him. "It's a foreign make," he said
ambiguously.

The two Germans consulted. "You are an expert?" said the Prince.

"We reckon to repair," said Bert, in the exact manner of Grubb.

The Prince sought in his vocabulary. "Is dat," he said, "goot to fly?"

Bert reflected and scratched his cheek slowly. "I got to look at it," he
replied.... "It's 'ad rough usage!"

He made a sound with his teeth he had also acquired from Grubb, put
his hands in his trouser pockets, and strolled back to the
machine. Typically Grubb chewed something, but Bert could chew only
imaginatively. "Three days' work in this," he said, teething. For
the first time it dawned on him that there were possibilities in this
machine. It was evident that the wing that lay on the ground was badly
damaged. The three stays that held it rigid had snapped across a ridge
of rock and there was also a strong possibility of the engine being
badly damaged. The wing hook on that side was also askew, but probably
that would not affect the flight. Beyond that there probably wasn't much
the matter. Bert scratched his cheek again and contemplated the broad
sunlit waste of the Upper Rapids. "We might make a job of this.... You
leave it to me."

He surveyed it intently again, and the Prince and his officer watched
him. In Bun Hill Bert and Grubb had developed to a very high pitch among
the hiring stock a method of repair by substituting; they substituted
bits of other machines. A machine that was too utterly and obviously
done for even to proffer for hire, had nevertheless still capital value.
It became a sort of quarry for nuts and screws and wheels, bars and
spokes, chain-links and the like; a mine of ill-fitting "parts" to
repl