Bryonia and “Capstan Bob,” the latter having been a poor doctor before he became a good sailor, attended the injured boy, and soon word came up that Alfonso had regained consciousness. He had broken his left arm and cut his scalp open, but was not seriously injured. Late in the afternoon he asked to see me, and when I went down to his room I found him quite cheerful over his personal mishap, but worried about the condition of his biplane. This I assured him could easily be repaired, and he told me there was a supply of extra frames in one of the boxes, and asked me to look after the airship and rig it up again. “I want to make another trip in it as soon as I am able,” he told me. “This broken arm is an unfortunate thing, but I guess I can manage the wheel with my right hand. Are you sure the motor is uninjured?” “It worked smoothly when I tested it,” I answered; “but I’ll go over it again more carefully and make sure.” “Do,” he urged. “You and Joe can do the work, and to-morrow I’ll come on deck and direct you. I’ll be all right by that time.” The morning, however, found Alfonso so stiff and sore from his bruises, his gashed forehead and his cracked arm, that he could not leave his berth. The women waited upon him tirelessly and Joe and I, left to our own devices, decided to get to work on the biplane without the owner’s assistance. It interested us more than ever, now that we had seen what the thing could do, and I had acquired a powerful desire to test its virtues myself. If we could restore the machine to good condition, and should our safety demand knowledge of the movements of the natives, I felt I would not hesitate to undertake a flight. All that day we worked, finding spare parts to replace those that had been damaged. It was evident that accidents to the frame were expected and anticipated, since duplicates of almost every part of them had been furnished. Only the motor and steering gear were without duplicate parts; but these were little likely to become injured, even by a direct fall. On the following morning Joe and I arose before daybreak and got Bry to make us some coffee while we finally adjusted the biplane. I had decided to attempt a flight secretly, as I feared Señor de Jiminez or his son would refuse us permission had we asked to go. The seat was so arranged that it would carry two; so, both Joe and I being light in weight ought not to prove too great a burden for the machine. I had intended to go alone, at first, but Joe begged so hard that I did not like to refuse him, and he agreed to allow me to manage it without interference. We instructed Bry and Ned Britton how to start us, but we took our run on the deck from stem to stern, so as to head over the island.