“It’s the way I like to do things,” returned Linda. “With a snap—and we’re off! Let’s have an early supper, about six o’clock, and get in bed by nine. And leave a call for three o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Three o’clock! The time lots of young people are getting home from dances!”
“Well, this is going to be more thrilling than any dance you ever attended, Dot Crowley!”
“It’s going to be the thrill of a lifetime!”
“I hope it is. I really believe it will end happily, or I shouldn’t be taking you along, for I am the one who’s responsible. The Sky Rocket can carry a good load, and we’re both so light that I can easily put in a big extra tank of gas for emergency, in case we get off our course.”
“And if that runs out, or anything else happens, we’ll go to sea in a rubber life-boat!”
“I hope we shan’t have to,” said Linda.... “But now we really must get to work. I’m going to get out my maps. It’ll be a pretty hard job to locate those little islands in that vast expanse of ocean.”
“If we only don’t run into a fog!” commented Dot.
“But if we do, there’s the good old earth-inductor compass to guide us. And besides, our course lies pretty straight westward.”
For the next few hours the girls scarcely exchanged a word, so busily were they employed upon their duties. Dot sent the wires and interviewed the chef of the hotel, and Linda pored over maps and diagrams, running her fingers through her hair, marking her course with her pencil. At six o’clock she telephoned to the airport with final instructions. Then, dressed as they were, for all their dresses were still at the Los Angeles hotel, they went down to dinner.