"Like Mr. Reitberg, only different," smiled Andrew. "Lads, you've shown splendid pluck. Now, let's eat. As for the bombs, they happen to be empty."
CHAPTER XVI
Record High Flying
It required quite an amount of explanation and apology to mollify the hot-headed and indignant Dicky Hamshaw and his friend Alec when they learned how all their energy, all their suspense and anxiety for the great airship and the safety of their friends had been unnecessary and thrown away.
"And—and you mean to tell us that the bombs are empty?" demanded the former, with some curtness, as soon as the fainting form of the rascal, Carl Reitberg, had been borne to his cabin. "I—this is no laughing matter."
"Precisely," answered the Major, with a little smile. "And, Dick, I'm not surprised at your anger. You see, we knew that those bombs had been rendered harmless."
"Then, sir, why not tell Alec and myself?"
The midshipman was almost boiling. But still, he had never been anything else but a good officer, and discipline was discipline. "Beg pardon, sir," he said. "But it makes a chap rather ratty. Here have I been hanging on to this chair, trying to keep cool and look it, when every instant I expected to be blown to atoms. I thought you must all be mad to go on so coolly with your dinners."