“You’re getting worse than some of these Islanders,” I stated. “Suppose
he made the feed line let go, eh?”
Prop dropped his cigarette stub and stepped on it. His eyes were grim.
“Four feet farther back from that flame than Bert,” he said grimly, “and
he went over the side pretty quick, didn’t he?”
I felt sorry for Bride. No reason why, but I did. Things like that
happen sometimes, and you can’t figure it perfectly.
“I’d have gone over as quick,” I stated. “Maybe a little faster.”
“Like hell you would!” Prop came back. “You’d have yelled at Bert to
duck his head under the fuselage and you’d have brought that ship down.
So would I. Bert tried it until he was getting scorched and then he cut
loose.”