“You observed, probably, that I set it a few moments ago, so that the wind wouldn't blow us about, and haven't touched it since. Now note how we shall turn back.”
Hawkins grasped his little wheel, puffed up his chest, and gave a tremendous twist.
And the wheel snapped off in Hawkins' hands!
“Why—why—why——” he stuttered, in amazement.
“Yes, now you've done it!” I rapped out, savagely. “How the dickens are we to get back?”
“There, Griggs, there,” said Hawkins, “don't be so childishly impatient. I shall simply unlock this case again and control the steering-gear from the inside. Certainly even you must be able to understand that.”
The calm superiority of his tone was maddening.
One or two of my sentiments defied restraint.
Heaven knows I didn't suppose it would make Hawkins nervous to hear them, but it did. His hands shook as he fumbled with the key of his steel box, and at a particularly vicious remark of mine he stood erect.
“Well, Griggs, you've put us in a hole this time!” he groaned.
“How?”
“You made me so nervous that I snapped that key off short in the lock!”
“What!” I shrieked.
“Yes, sir. The motor's locked up in there with fuel enough to keep her going for three months. I can't stop her or move the rudder without getting into the case, and nothing but dynamite would dent that case!”
“Then, Hawkins,” I said, a terrible calm coming over me, “we shall have to go straight ahead now until we hit something or are blown up. Am I right?”
“Quite right,” muttered Hawkins, defiantly. “And it's all your fault!”
I transfixed the inventor with a vindictive stare, until he
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