fear he don't build much on me."

Lafe, of course, disclaimed any superiority, but Orris felt that way.
Later, when mid-day chow was over, Lafe found his way to where the
squadron commander was checking off the different machines and
assigning to each the various occupants. All this on a pad, in one of
the hangars, with no one else near, as the Sergeant thought. In Hangar
Four were two Bleriots all in trim order. The Sergeant stared at one
of them, grumbling to himself.

"What will I do here?" he reflected, half aloud, though unconscious of
his words. "I forgot that Cheval's arm is giving him trouble.
Confound him! He's too risky. Won't do to leave one of these behind.
Hm-m-m! Who else --"

"Your pardon, Sergeant!" A tall, athletic young American was beside
him, standing respectfully attention. "Why not take me? Give me a
chance!"

So dominating, yet so deferential was Blaine's attitude and manner that
Sergeant Anson for the minute said nothing, but he stared at the lad.

"I was with Monsieur Cheval, Sir, the night he got hurt, and I brought
the machine home, under his direction of course. You ask him if I am
not competent to handle that Bleriot. I'd much rather be in it than in
the big biplane I used last time."

"But - but -- you're too young, too inexperienced, too - too --"

"Now, Sir, please ask Cheval! You know what his judgment is. If I am