The tires proved hard and sound, however. Once more Barney took the wheel, and from there on the ride to the rendezvous was uneventful. Ned presented the chauffeur with thirty dollars as a reward for his fidelity.
“That was a mighty close shave of yours, Ned,” said Alan, after he had heard the story, “but where can Buck Stewart be? It’s already past the time we agreed upon. Do you suppose they could have caught him?”
“Not yet, my boys,” cried a hearty voice behind them, and there stood the reporter, his clothes rumpled, his hat dented out of shape and with pockets a-bulge with notebooks. “There are only two parts of me missing—my camera and cane, and I had to leave them in other hands without stopping to argue about it.”
Then Buck told the story of his thrilling night’s experiences and mutual congratulations followed.
“Well, I guess that we’ve given them all the slip at last,” said Alan, “and since it’s away past the hour we fixed for starting, let’s take our places aboard the Flyer and be off. We haven’t any too much time to lose, you know.”
“Right-o!” echoed Buck and Ned.
So the trio made their way to where the huge airship stood ready. They swung up the ladder into the main port. Ned took his position in the pilot room; Buck in the engine room. Alan made a hasty survey of the vessel, poking around here and there with a powerful hand-searchlight to see that all was as it should be. Their hearts beat high with excitement, which likewise agitated the little group of factory mechanics who had gathered to see them off. Just as Ned was about to signal Bob for their start, there came a tremendous battering upon the great barred doors of the factory.
“Open and admit us!” roared an authoritative, bull-like voice. “Let no man leave here before we enter—in the name of the United States of America!”