“Oh no,” said Jack, “let’s steer C. O. D. by O. K.,” and he twisted the wheel till the flying ship was waltzing in circles. It took some time to make him behave. Then the Candy Kid was given charge of the engine. “Be very careful not to desert your post”; he was cautioned, “don’t go too high, for we might not get down again, and whatever you do, don’t swallow any of the gas, it’s fatal. Now I’m going below. You’ll be relieved at eight bells.” And the Man with the Growly Voice turned in. The Candy Kid meditated a moment, then said to Jack, “Now we can have our duel.” “I don’t see how,” Jack answered. “You ninny,” retorted the Candy Kid, “didn’t you hear him say the gas was fatal?” “Fatal? Is it really?” inquired Jack. “Bring me a handful, I’ll try it.” Well, of course, the Candy Kid was disgusted. Jack was so silly. “Do you think gas is like cheese?” he snapped. “I can’t carry it around in my hands.” “Oh, I see,” observed Jack, “it’s too heavy.” “By the way,” reflectively, “what is cheese?” “Cheese,” said the Candy Kid, “is the mother of welsh rabbit, grandmother of indigestion--related to nightmare, on the father’s side.” “Very interesting,” murmured Jack, “why can’t we have a duel with cheese?” There was a silence for a moment. Jack had nothing more to say. The Candy Kid had lots, but he was too angry to say it. An idea struck Jack presently. “Kid,” he called. “Kid.” The Candy Kid angrily turned and listened. Jack went on. “We can’t have a duel with gas, without a meter. I never saw a meter, but I’m told they’re terrible things. You run the gas through, then you look at the meter, and drop dead.” The Candy Kid pointed to a rubber tube that hung from the bag overhead. “We’ll eat the gas through this tube,” he said. “I see,” Jack replied, “and who wins the duel--the one who eats the most?” “Oh, no,” said the Candy Kid, “the one wins who dies the quickest.” So they left the flying machine to steer herself and run herself and swallowed all the gas they would hold. If Maida hadn’t happened to come up on deck no one would ever have known what became of them, and there’s no telling what would have happened to the flying machine, for both Jack and the Candy Kid were turned into little balloons by the gas they had swallowed, and they bounced about on the deck, unable to get a foothold--until finally a little breeze swept them gently off, and the last Maida saw of them they were floating away to leeward holding each other’s hand and singing, “Up in a balloon, boys, up in a balloon.” Chapter XVI