“It happens to have been here,” the stranger went on. To his own surprise Jack found himself wondering if the man was telling him the truth or raising a smoke screen of falsehood. “You see, my partner and I once had trading concessions on some of these islands. The Japs forced us off, but before they did that we hid our fuel. Thought we might want to come back, which we did. But we hardly expected to come in a craft like this.” He laughed softly. The man climbed down, poured two cups of hot black coffee from a gallon thermos jug, then invited Jack to a seat on a large flat rock. “So you like our little ship!” the man said, warmed by the coffee. “It’s really a honey. Nothing in the world was ever like it.” “It sure walks on air,” Jack agreed. “So you’ve seen it fly?” He gave Jack a sharp look. “Yes.” Jack told of seeing it leave the island. “You’d like to know a lot about it?” The man smiled. “Naturally.” “Some things I can’t tell you. All I can tell you has been printed in magazines all over the world. Strange you haven’t read them.” “We’ve been at sea for a long time.” “Yes, of course.” The man appeared to have accepted Jack’s story as true. “And the facts about our jet plane haven’t been out very long.” “Jet plane? Is that what you call it?” Jack studied the plane with redoubled interest. “That’s what it is. It gets its power from jets of air mixed with exploding gas. The jets come out from some part of the plane. I’m not permitted to tell exactly what part. You’ve often watered a lawn, I suppose?” “Yes, quite often.” “Remember how the hose sort of kicked back when the water came rushing out?” “Sure,” Jack grinned. “I’ve been soaked more than once by just that.” “That’s the sort of thing that makes our ship go. The jets come out at great speed and just push the plane along. It practically flies itself.” “How about taking me along on your next flight?” Jack held his breath. “Impossible. We can’t take a soul on board. No, not even if he were wounded and would die if we left him. It’s that much of a secret. So much—so very much depends upon this plane. “But I’ll tell you a little more about it,” the man went on, sensing Jack’s disappointment. “It burns kerosene. You’ve noticed that, I suppose?” “Yes.” “It’s hard on fuel. We have to carry a belly tank if we want to go far. The Italians made a plane somewhat like this one. But it just ate up the fuel. If you’ve got to land every half hour for fuel, your plane’s no good. We’ve overcome that. But this plane still has weak spots.” Jack wondered what the weak spots were, but dared not ask. “Should be fine in the stratosphere,” he suggested. “Say! You _do_ know planes, don’t you?” the man answered with respect in his tone. “A little,” Jack admitted. “Of course it’s good in the stratosphere. That’s where a propeller-driven plane breaks down.” “Nothing for the propeller to get its teeth into,” suggested Jack.