Quick at acting and good at thinking though Hike was, there were many times when he did not think so quickly as jolly Mr. Poodle. It wasn’t till long afterward that it occurred to him that Poodle had never seemed really afraid of _anything_; and that the chances were that he had given up the flight to please his beloved chum. While they were talking, Lieutenant Adeler had been saying to Martin Priest, “What have you named the tetrahedral?” “I hadn’t planned anything, yet. I suppose the general sort of aeroplane will be called the ‘Priest Model.’ I think we ought to name this particular one after young Griffin there. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d never have had even a chance at a chance.... What was that you called him—nickname—‘Hike’ was it? Why not call it ‘_Hike the First_’?” “Too likely to get his name and the tetrahedral’s mixed up, I should say,” considered Lieutenant Adeler. “Well, ‘Hustle’ is pretty much like ‘Hike.’ How about ‘_Hustle the First_’?” “Fine.” The boys were called over and informed of the tetrahedral’s name—by which they usually called her, afterwards. Hike blushed a poppy-red when he was told that the name was really in honor of him. “Hurray for Hike’s _Hustle_!” shouted Poodle, and he dragged Hike and the grave Lieutenant after him in a dance about the _Hustle_, singing: “Hallelujah, I’m a bum, hallelujah, bum again, Hurray-yay-yay for old Hike’s aeroplane!” As the three danced, Martin Priest sat down on a tool box and covered his face with his long hands. They stopped, staring. Priest seemed to be in absolute despair. “What’s the matter, General?” shouted the irrepressible Poodle. The inventor raised his head and looked as though he had gone blind. “I’ve—I supposed—I’ve been hoping—but I must.” “Yes?” said Lieutenant Adeler, gently. “I must tell you who and what I am.” The inventor was grim as an officer directing a siege. Even Poodle grew quiet. Martin Priest spoke quickly, trying to get it over: “As far as the aeroplanes go, I’m all right—I’m square. I think I am about other things, too—now, anyway. But there was a time—” Hike walked over, as Priest stopped, and put his arm about the inventor’s shoulder, for a second. The inventor smiled a three-cornered funny little smile, then looked grim again, and went on, swiftly: “When I was a young chap—twenty-six—I married—I can’t tell you what I thought of my wife, but she was perfect, to me anyway. I’d graduated from Massachusetts Tech., and was with a marine engine company. I was interested in aviation, too—long before the Wrights had flown, or the Bell people, when Lilienthal was just trying his gliders. Well, this engine company was small, and I had a lot to do with the business end of it, as well as the mechanical part. My wife got mighty sick—needed a lot of things, and my salary was small. And I got in debt for a lot of aeroplane material.