hop-talk--and to pass on.

Many voices: "Storm area, over the South-shore up to Level Six. You
birds on the local runs had better watch your step" ... "--coming down
at Calcutta. Yeah, a dirty, red-bottomed freighter that rammed him. I
saw it take off two of his fans, but Shorty set the old girl down like a
feather on the lift of the four fans he had left. You said it--Shorty's
a real pilot...."

Another pause; then a growling voice that proclaimed complainingly:
"Lord, but I'm tired! All right, Spud; grin, you damned Irishman! But if
you had been hauling the Commander all over Alaska to-day and then got
ordered out again just as you were set for a good sleep, you'd be sore.
What in thunder does he want his ship for to-night, I ask you?"

* * * * *

Chet, crouching still lower in the little retreat, stiffened to
attention at the reference to the Commander. So the "big boss" had
ordered out his own cruiser again! He listened still more intently to
the voice that replied.

"Sure, and it's thankful you sh'u'd be to be holdin' the controls on a
fine, big cruiser like that; though, betwixt you and me, 'tis myself
that don't envy you your job. Me and my old freighter, we go wallowin'
along. And to-night I'm takin' her home for repairs--back to the fact'ry
in Rooshia where they made her; and the devil of a job it will be, for
she handles with all the grace of a pig in a puddle."

Chet risked a glance when the sound of heavy footsteps indicated that
one of the two speakers had gone on alone to the pilots' gate. Before
the huge bulletin board, in pilot's uniform and with the markings of a
low-level man on his sleeve, stood the sturdy figure of the man called
Spud. He started back at sight of the face peering out at him, but Chet
whispered a command, and the man moved closer to the hiding place behind
the board.

There were others coming in a laughing group up the walk; daylight tubes
illuminated the approach. Chet spoke hurriedly.

"I'm in a devil of a mess, Spud. Will you lend a hand? Will you stand by
for rescue work?"

And Spud studied the bulletin board as he growled:

"Lend a hand?--yes, and the arm with it, Mr. Bullard. You stud by me
once whin I needed help; and now you ask will I stand by for rescue
work. Till we crash--that's all, me bhoy!"

* * * * *

Spud's speech was tinged with the brogue of Erin; it grew perceptibly
more pronounced as his