“Yes,” answered Alan, “and I am going to take fourteen days real rest, and then—well, off to Kalvar again, only this time of my own free will.”
The longed-for moment had come! Hector was in the mechanic’s seat, while Masters navigated the great ship down the grassy slope. Gracefully she slid out of the hangar, and down the incline and stopped on the level. Sir John was very excited. “You are sure you want to test her?” he asked. “Remember she has never been up before—you have only my word for it that she’s safe. Desmond, don’t you think you had better stay with Mavis, in case—”
But Mavis interposed. “Nonsense, Uncle John. This is the day of my life. Now give me your hand,” and she gracefully swung herself up the ladder and on to the lower deck. Sir John followed suit, and they stood side by side, watching the cousins ascend the ladder.
At last! They were all aboard and the six persons entrusted themselves to the aluminium bird that shone brightly in the sunshine. They hauled the grappling irons in, Masters touched a lever, and they started. Slowly they ascended at first—but climbed higher and higher, faster and faster until the hangar was lost to sight and they saw only broad expanses of country below them.
“Oh!” said Mavis breathlessly. “We’re off. Where are we going?”
“I want to make a circuit of the British Isles, and then home to Dalmyrnie.”
“But shall we have time?”
“At express speed we ought to do it in about four hours.”
“Only four hours?” in amazement.
“Well, we shall only go from Dalmyrnie—we shan’t touch further north to-day.”