They were about half way across the deep lake at the time.
Evening was coming on, for the sun had just reached the distant rugged
horizon in the west.
"Do you refer to me when you say that, Puss?" he asked, with that same
queer little smile on his face--a look that mystified the other, who
could not understand what it meant.
"Yes, both you and that loud-mouthed cousin of yours. Just because luck
favored you, and you won that blooming race by a head, you think I can't
manage an aeroplane as well as you. Huh! perhaps you don't know that I'm
going to take my machine with me when I go down to the cocoa plantation
we own along the Amazon, and use it exploring where a white man has
seldom been seen. You can just stay here and grow up with the country,
while I'm doing great stunts. But as long as I stay here I'm going to
stop this talk about trickery and low-down dodges. You're responsible
for most of it, Frank Bird. I warn you what's coming to you."
"Perhaps," said Frank, pleasantly, "you would be kind enough to tell me
also when this awful punishment is going to fall on my poor devoted
neck?"
"Any time, hang you! Right now, if you say another word!" roared Puss,
doubling up his fists, and making ready for one of his well known and
feared bull rushes, that had brought him a speedy victory many a time.
"So? That's comforting; and with all these good fellows around to see
how you wipe up the deck with me.
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