But we
missed you, Orry."
"Did you really and truly miss me?" Erwin asked, this not in a spirit
of doubt or incredulity, but only to hear his friend reemphasize it.
One likes at times to have welcome truisms reechoed over again. It is
human nature I suppose.
"Look here, Lex Brodno, you're a Pole --"
"Don't spring that on me again, even in joke I am an American, it my
folks did come over from Warsaw."
"Bully! We're all one over here. That's the way to talk!" Erwin was
getting back his old-time spirits. "All one in the good old U.S. All
one over here -- eh? Oh, you sinner!" The two walked over to a table,
interrupted at every turn by those who wanted to welcome Orry back to
the club again.
The following morning Erwin resumed his daily stunt of practice, but
was heightened mightily in spirit by noticing in the hangar where he
had usually gotten his machines a bright new scouting plane, small,
with a tail like a dolphin's, an up-to-date machine gun mounted along
the top, just where the one pilot at the wheel could handily squint
through the sights.
"Why, it's British -- one of their latest makes," informed Erwin, much
pleased. "It's -- let's see." He was squinting at the monogram.
"B-X-3. No. 48."
Just then Blaine and Finzer strolled up.
"Going out for a little spin, Orry?" queried Blaine, throwing open
wider the hangar door.
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