Bob Dallow stared hard at Ben as the latter spoke this outburst.
“Well, well,” he said slowly, but forcibly, “you’ve got them, haven’t you? So have I. Invited to the meet at Blairville? Why, that’s where I’ve got my new job.”
“You have?” exclaimed Ben.
“Yes. Don’t look as if we’ve both gone dreaming, Aunt Mary,” said Bob to his hostess, with a merry laugh, “I’m hit, too. Tell you, I’ve figured out a system. I’ve made up my mind to keep up with the procession as it passes along. The automobile was a good stunt while it was fresh. Too common for enterprising fellows now, though. It’s all the new fad—airships. I’m headed for it strong. Yes, I’ve got a chance for work at Blairville, and I’m to report for duty to-morrow.”
“What’s your airship man’s name, Bob?” inquired Ben.
“John Davis.”
“Why, that’s the name of my friend, too,” exclaimed Ben animatedly. “Say, isn’t this a queer coincidence?”
Ben handed his money to his mother to keep for him. Then there was a regular “powwow” between the two boys. For nearly an hour there was a constant chorus of such words as aeroplanes, monoplanes, high speeders, air cars, aerials, aeratoriums, ultra violet rays, upper air mains, barographs and other technical terms, most of them proceeding from Bob, who it seemed had studied up aeronautics, and had acquired a smart smattering of aerial science in general. Then incidentally the conversation reverted back to the whistle, and Ben alluded to the two musicians he had seen playing near the public square.
“That starts me,” declared Bob, springing to his feet. “They are two of Vladimir’s men, and I have a curiosity to find out how they are doing with the Sybilline.”
The two friends went out to the street together. Two squares traversed they separated, Bob, to hunt for the street musicians, Ben to go to the automobile works to join his father.