"The Zaat—but you never told me!" "The idea came as I walked along. I want to see how the new propeller is working. It’s only three weeks to the day, Jack, and if I let some Frenchman in before me, you know you’d never forgive me. Ten thousand pounds, my boy—and that’s fortune. Let me win them and I will be one of the richest men in Europe in five years’ time. You believe that, Jack, don’t you?" Jack believed every word of it. His faith had never faltered. The great prize, offered to the man who first flew from the summit of the Weisshorn round Mont Blanc to the valley of Chamonix, would be won by his brother or it never would be won at all. Such a victory would change the course of their lives in an instant. It would lift them from the ruck of mere adventurers to the high places of fame. And Benny’s genius would accomplish it—the day would come speedily when the world would acknowledge him for what he was. This Brother Jack believed faithfully; this was his whole creed, with an anathema upon any Frenchman who differed from him. "It’s a dead certainty, Benny," he said with a real ring in his voice; "you couldn’t fail if you tried." Benny shook his head at that. "I could fail right enough if I played the fool, Jack; and then there’s the weather to be reckoned with. What’s going to happen if I start in a blizzard? The magneto may give out on short circuit—that’s one of the chances if it’s wet. When it begins to do that you may sally forth with a stretcher—not before. What I’m going ’no trumps’ on is the snow. If that keeps soft and I come down, there’ll be a new start. And anyway, it doesn’t much matter, for there’ll only be one flying man less in the world; and, like the folks in Gilbert’s opera, he really won’t be missed. You go to sleep and don’t worry over it, Jack. It will be time enough to do that when I take a toss." He stood up as upon a sudden impulse and, laughing at his brother’s remonstrances, filled his pipe again and went quickly down the stairs. A moment later he shut the door of the chalet softly and turned to the wooden shed upon his right hand. Here his machine was harboured; this was his hangar, wherein he guarded secrets so precious that he believed they would revolutionise the art of aviation, youthful as it was. For three years, since the day when he first heard of the Wrights and their achievements at Pau, had Benny dreamed the dreams by night and slaved at the bench by day. And now the harvest had come to fruition and the sickle was at hand. An offer by an English newspaper of ten thousand pounds to the man who first flew over the great peaks of the Pennine Alps sent Benny to Andana with the determination to win it or court the ultimate ignominy. He worked feverishly in the dread that he might be forestalled. The day and the hour were at hand—he believed that he was ready.