couldn't come down just now, for they are busy with our new biplane."
"A biplane, eh? Vot is dot, some kind of a sawmill alretty?"
"No, Hans, a flying machine. Hop in, and you'll soon be at the farm and then you can look it over." And Sam led the way to the automobile, threw the dress-suit case in the tonneau, and assisted the German youth to a seat in front.
"A flying machine!" cried Hans, as they started off. "By chimanatics! Vot you poys going to git next?"
"I don't know."
"First you get a houseboat, den an autermobile, den a steam yachts, und bicycles, und now it vos a flying machine. Vot you do mid him, Sam?"
"We are learning to fly."
"Vot! you going up by der sky in him?" cried the German youth, aghast.
"Of course—and you can go up with us too."
"Me? Me go up in a airship? Not on your neckties, Sam Rofer! I got too much regart for my neck alretty yet! Ven I fly I valk on der groundt und do it, yah!"
"Oh, it's dead easy when you know how, Hans."
"Dead, hey? Chust vot I dink, Sam—put I ton't vonts to pe dead, not chust yet!"
