The listener only nodded his head and waited, smoking slowly and swinging his glasses expectantly. Thereupon Buck began and, much better than he had written it, told the story of the new aeroplane: how he had secured work in the plant, ingratiated himself into the confidence of the workmen, used his eyes and ears and finally witnessed the night ascent. In the midst of his rapid narrative the telephone rang. The listening man responded, smiled, replied in approval and then returned to the graphic narrative. Toward the close of the description the editor arose. As Buck finished, the editor laid a hand on his shoulder in silence. Then, as if recalling the written story, he stepped to his desk, picked up the proof and gave it swift inspection. Without reading it all he turned to the young reporter.
“I don’t know what your wages are, my boy,” he said kindly, “but whatever they are, they are now doubled. It is probably the last time any of your copy will have to be rewritten. I am glad you are on the Herald. Good night.” He held out his hand. “Don’t think your unprinted story is wasted. I may want to see you to-morrow.”
As Buck, his cheeks aflame, shook hands there was the sound of footsteps in the next room.
“Thank you, sir,” Buck began. But he found no time to say more. The door was thrown open and Mr. Latimer and three young men entered the office. The sudden invasion threw the retiring reporter into the background. And yet, before he closed the door on himself, he paused a moment to observe the managing editor hastening toward his visitors.
“Mr. Napier, Mr. Hope and Mr. Russell,” announced Mr. Latimer in a tone that was not without a little pride.
“Clear the stage for the real stars—the Airship Boys,” said Buck to himself and closing the door, he hurried down the hall.
CHAPTER V
A BEWILDERING PROPOSITION
There was no marked sign of cordiality in Ned Napier, Alan Hope and Bob Russell as chairs were brought from the anteroom and the Airship Boys were asked to seat themselves. It was three o’clock in the morning (the giant presses below were just starting on the big last edition of the paper) and the visitors were yet to be given an explanation of why they had been asked to get out of bed after but two hours asleep, and hurry by taxicab to the office of the Herald. Even their brief rest had been broken into by reporter Winton’s persistent telephone calls. Not even the just before dawn coolness of the streets had aroused the boys into daytime alertness.
“I am obliged to you, gentlemen,” said the managing editor after the conventional salutations. “I would have come to you myself, but the matter in hand is so new to me and so important that I am just now prepared to talk to you intelligently. What I want to discuss with you I had not heard of at one o’clock. I have been studying it ever since. I hope you will pardon me.”