As Hal flopped over the sizzle of meat and spuds in the frying-pan and set out the meal in two tin plates, he attended to the job by mere mechanical touch,--his mind was running round in circles. What in the dickens were they going to do? If they spent what little they had buying food, there'd be no money to buy gas. If they bought gas,--no food! Um, better draw their belts tighter and put the cash in gas. No gas meant no stunt flying--no stunt flying, no crowd to take for rides. And carrying passengers was how they earned their living.