Pop Gillette cast his eyes heavenwards as for deliverance. "I'm sure glad I don't run a liner anymore. I might get somebody like you for a co-pilot. I had to have a _mold_, didn't I? You heard the pilot say the patch had to be metal to stand the pressure. Fifteen pounds to the inch over a ten foot patch is a lot of pressure. Well, after I had the sheets over the hole, I turned it towards the sun, filled the mold, and turned it around away from the sun. The temperature drop in space did the rest." Joe put his hand to his brow and glanced at his wine glass suspiciously. "I vaguely get what you're talking about, but just _what_ did you make the patch out of?" Pop Gillette chuckled wryly. "The mercury, of course. Froze hard as steel when I turned her away from the sun. Perfect fit, too." End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Patch, by William Shedenhelm