ouse, behind strong bars, a man was kept who had been an
object-lesson....

"Is there any machinery?" asked Bell desperately. "Any at all about
the place?"

Paula shook her head.

"It may be that there is a pump."

Bell went off savagely, hunting it. He came back and dived into the
cockpit of the plane. He came out with a wrench, and his jaws set
grimly. He worked desperately at the pump. He came back with two
short, thick bolts.

He crawled into the plane again, tearing out the fire wall
impatiently, getting up under the motor.

"We have one chance in five thousand," he said grimly from there, "of
getting away from here to crash in the jungle. Personally, I prefer
that to falling into Ribiera's hands. If your cousin or anybody else
comes near us, out here, call me, and I'll be much obliged."

* * * * *

There was the sound of scraping, patient, desperate, wholly
unpromising scraping. It seemed to go on for hours.

"The wrench, please, Paula."

She passed it to him. The bullet had entered the aluminum crankcase of
the motor and pierced it through. By special providence it had not
struck the crankshaft, and had partly penetrated the crankcase on the
other side. Bell had cut it out, first of all. He had two holes in the
crankcase, then, through which the cylinder oil had drained away. And
of all pieces of machinery upon earth, an aircraft motor requires oil.

Bell's scraping had been to change the punctured holes of the bullet
into cone shaped bores. The aluminum alloy was harder than pure
aluminum, of course, but he had managed it with a knife. Now he fitted
the short bolts in the bores, forced the threads on them to cut their
own grooves, and by main strength screwed them in to a fit. He
tightened them.

He came out with his eyes glowing oddly.

"The vibration will work them loose, sooner or later," he observed
grimly, "and they may not be oil tight. Also, the crankshaft may clear
them, and it may not. If we go up in the ship in this state we may get
five miles away, or five hundred. At any minute it may fail us, and
sooner or later it will fail us. Are you game to go up, Paula?"

* * * * *

She smiled at him.

"With you, of course."

He began to brush off his hands.

"There ought to be oil and gas here," he said briefly. "Another thing,
there'll probably be some metal chips in the crankcase, which may
stop an oil line at any minute.