The effects of the electrical current passed quickly away, and the mountaineer sat up. His grim, set face—the face of a man who had fought all his life—showed that he was not afraid even of his first ride in an aeroplane—and certainly not of a revolver in the hands of a boy. He shouted, “Lay that gun down, or I’ll throw you off this flyin’-machine. Then make that fat boy there take me down and let me off.” Hike answered, smiling, “Louder, my dear man, motor makes so much noise.” “Hear me?” cried the man. “I’ll take that gun away from you. You couldn’t get in more’n one shot before I grabbed you—and you couldn’t get in that. I know you-all’s sort. You’d try to shoot, but you ain’t got the grit to shoot down a man, this near, in cold blood. If I have to take that gun away from you, I’ll throw you off. Better let me down peaceful, and save your life.” Hike knew that the man was right in saying that he would not care to shoot a man two feet from him. But even so, he was not going to lay down the revolver. It was a test of nerves. They argued back and forth, Hike merely throwing in a few words, never taking his calm cold gray eyes from the steely, snake-like eyes of the moonshiner. The latter’s nerves were getting a little shaky, especially at having to yell and listen in this infernal racket made by the motor. He was used to the quiet mountains. Hike watched him get ready to spring, then he touched Poodle’s back with his toe, and a sudden great silence was about them, as the motor was shut off. At the same time, Hike touched a strut, quickly. The mountaineer, surprised, shrank back and grabbed at the sides of the freight-platform, fearing that an accident had happened. Hike spoke, clearly and quickly: “My dear sir, you’re perfectly correct in thinking I am bluffing, with this revolver. Don’t care to shoot you. But also, you’re bluffing. You know if you threw me overboard you’d never get to earth alive. Look down there. If you make one single move, I’ll kick this dynamite-exploder, and the whole machine will go to pot. You noticed that when I touched this wooden rod, here, I stopped the engine. You notice we’re falling through the air, now. We’ll all be killed unless I turn on the power—and I’m the only one that knows how.” [Illustration: “LAY THAT GUN DOWN OR I’LL THROW YOU OFF THIS MACHINE” _Page 78_ ] With all this confusion of “dynamite-exploder” (which was really only a harmless timer) and “stopping engines” and “falling through the air,” the mountaineer, seeing the earth rapidly swooping up at them, as Poodle made her glide over a hill, lost his steely nerve, and begged for mercy. Never had he met a boy of sixteen who played thus with life and death. Smiling quietly, Hike slouched to the engine and switched her on, from the auxiliary connection.