“Oh, he’s different. He’ll wear a monocle and his face’ll look as if it had been shaved two or three times a day. It’ll be red and his hair will be white. He’ll wear tweeds, too; but he’ll have a high, soft Austrian hat with a rooster feather in it. I suppose he’ll wear yellow puttees, too; and he’ll say ‘Ah! Thanks’ every time you go near him. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d want someone to carry his gun.”
“Kind o’ sounds like ’em,” commented Frank. “Which one do you choose?”
“Sam Skinner,” answered Phil, chuckling. “Say,” he continued, “do you suppose we’ll eat with the quality?”
“Eat with ’em?” snorted Frank. “We’ll eat with ’em and so’ll Sam Skinner.”
Saturday morning a telegram announced that Mr. Mackworth would reach Grand Rapids at four P. M. The Loon was ready for dismounting but the boys kept it standing that Mr. Mackworth might, if he desired, see it in flight. Men from Mr. Graham’s factory had prepared packing cases for each part.
The principal additions made to the monoplane were the warming coils, small shaded incandescent lights at all the instruments—compass, anemometer and altitude barometer, a powerful searchlight using either acetylene gas or electricity, adjustable seats on each side of the car and a light but strong rope ladder, hanging from the floor port of the car so that one on the end of it could be landed by dropping off. And, what was more important, the purchase and testing of a special supply of gasoline and lubricating oil.
The town of Grand Rapids is known for the number of its men who are sportsmen. This is probably because of the game possibilities in that region. In addition to this, many of its business men are interested in furniture and consequently in lumber. The present lumber country is in Canada and the Grand Rapids men have acquired large holdings there. A Michigan man will run up into Ontario for moose with as little ceremony as if he were going to his country club over Sunday.
But, a day’s inquiry showed the boys that the only men who had shot either the Rocky Mountain goat or Bighorn sheep were out of town, and it was not until Friday evening that they were able to get a book giving them the information for which they were thirsting. When they received this book—a simple narrative with most graphic photographs of the adventures of two men in the lower Canadian Rockies—even the equipment of the Loon was temporarily forgotten.
Although the book was a large one, Phil secured permission to spend the night with Frank and, reading by turn, they finished the volume between one and two o’clock.
“It seems to me,” said Phil, “that your uncle has solved the whole problem. With the monoplane there’ll be no more perilous slides or scaling of dizzy heights. Instead of stalking Mr. Goat or Mr. Sheep for days through the snow, we can go to him like a telegram. I wonder why no one else has thought of the safe and sane way to go about this kind of hunting?”