A little later Jack said good-bye in earnest, and then there was nothing to do but wait. About them the voices of the insects and frogs changed, with the darkening night. The stars came out, but the night was a dark one. Harry looked at his watch from time to time and at last he got up.
"Time to start!" he said.
He felt a thrill of nervousness as the monoplane rose in the air. After all, there was a difference between being the pilot and sitting still in the car. But he managed very well, after a few anxious moments in the ascent. And once they were clear of the trees and climbing swiftly, in great spirals, there was a glorious sensation of freedom. Dick caught his breath at first, then he got used to the queer motion, and cried aloud in his delight.
Harry headed straight into the east when he felt that he was high enough. And suddenly he gave a cry.
"Look!" he shouted in Dick's ear. "We didn't start a moment too soon. See her–that great big cigar-shaped thing, dropping over there?"
It was the Zeppelin–the battleship of the air. She was dipping down, descending gracefully, over Bray Park.
"I was right!" cried Harry. "Now we can go to work at once–we won't have to land and wait!"
He rose still higher, then flew straight for Bray Park. They were high, but, far below, with lights moving about her, they could see the huge bulk of the airship, as long as a moderate sized ocean liner. She presented a perfect target.
"Now!" said Harry.
And at once Dick began dropping projectiles they had found in the aeroplane–sharply pointed shells of steel. Harry had examined these–he found they were really solid steel shot, cast like modern rifle bullets, and calculated to penetrate, even without explosive action, when dropped from a height.