"How they going, Gloomy?" I greeted him.
"Oh," he said, "that bit of army flying made me careless. I almost hit a
radio tower this morning. Carelessness is what kills all old-timers, you
know."
"Gus," I said. "You'd be miserable if you didn't have something to worry
about. You will probably live to have a long white beard and worry
yourself sick all day long that you are going to trip on it and break
your neck."
Only a faint flicker of humor lit up his gloomy eyes.