They sailed up to a dizzy height, came down in spirals, volplaned to earth as an aeroplane with the gas entirely out of the bag, floated lazily in the air as a balloon, and went after a height record. The last they did not accomplish, for they had only gotten up about three miles when they ran into a violent snowstorm, and Jerry, not wanting to take any chances with the time of the meet so near at hand, made a quick descent.
“We’ve gone higher on other occasions,” he said to his chums, “and we know we can do it, so there’s no use taking too many risks. Otherwise the Comet never did better.”
“And if we don’t win at least two prizes I’ll eat my hat,” observed Bob.
“And about everything else on board too, I suspect, Chunky,” remarked Ned, with a grin.
While the professor was interested in the working of the motorship, and proud of the ability of his young friends, he spent more time looking for insects in the upper air, than in watching the intricate evolutions.
“And how soon after the meet will you start for the West?” he inquired anxiously, when they had wheeled the Comet into the shed.
“Oh, in a few days,” promised Jerry. “I believe he cares more about that flying frog than he does about us winning a prize,” confided the tall lad to his chums.
“I’m sure of it,” agreed Ned.
The final preparations were made. Plenty of provisions were put aboard, there was enough gasolene for a long flight, and materials for making the lifting gas had been stored away. The Comet was ready for the flight to Colton.
“Well, we might as well get aboard,” remarked Jerry the day of the start, after he and his chums had looked over every bolt, nut, lever, cam, valve, gear and guy-wire. “We can take our time getting there.”