to butt into the moon in a minute. Want me to cut off a piece of green cheese for you?"
"Quit talking and let me look," countered the unhappy Legs.
"Doesn't that motor jar! Just like one of those vibrators you put to the back of your neck." Jimmy babbled on, principally to keep up his own nerve. "Ain't this a grand and glorious feeling! Say, Legs, don't the ocean look funny through these goggles!"
"I'm looking!" quavered Legs.
Another silence as the bird rose to the desired altitude and the pilot, by a swift shift of his levers, sent her shooting on a bee line.
"All O. K.?" he shouted. "Not scared, are you? Sit tight, boys, and don't rock the boat."
"We're all right," called back Jimmy as spokesman for both, and then to Legs, as he became composed enough to remark some physical discomfort. "Golly, Legs, I swear I b'lieve you sharpened up your knees before we got in; they're jabbing right into my meat like a couple of knife blades. And stop blowing a gale on the back of my neck. You're scared. I can feel the way you're panting."
