For a moment the incongruous “tiger” tormented him, but he figured that she, in her evident excitement, had probably distorted or incorrectly expressed a glimpse at a mountain goat, or something of that sort.
Having successfully solved the problem of his Esmeralda’s whereabouts, his next move was to apply to the “National Aerial-control Bureau” in Washington for a special permit, with “right-of-way,” for an “Electric-flash” transit to Mt. McKinley, Alaska, between the 20,000 and 22,000 feet strata, with return privilege “under his own power,” starting “three minutes from moment of application.” He also demanded photographed copies of permit and necessary orders.
“Permit, etc., scarcely needed at that altitude, especially as only one other ‘Electric-flash’ machine yet in existence; and that—,” the clerk attempted to expostulate.
But Algernon peremptorily shut off the sluggish clerk’s remonstrances.
“Cut advice—stunt about what I need,” he broke in, “and get busy with what I want, or I’ll call the chief. Do you realize whom you are dealing with? Now get busy, and SNAP TO IT!”
And, seeing in his “Electro-visional” that the magic of his name had produced instant “snapping-to-it” activities on the part of the clerk, he connected up his “Radio Electro-photographing” camera, and turned his attention to the last necessary detail to be arranged before his departure.
Slipping the plug of his “Radiophone” into the “E.V.R.” wavelength socket, he snapped the framework of its head-phone and microphone combination over his face, and called softly: “Charlie Grant there?”
“Yep! This is Charlie speaking,” his broker’s voice replied, with terse economy of words.
Recognizing the voice, Algernon’s next question was to the point.
“Anything doing on ’change?” he asked.