At ten thirty o’clock the next morning Ned was taking his bath. Remembering their luncheon engagement with the managing editor of the Herald he looked over his unpressed clothing with a smile. The oil spot on his coat seemed even bigger than it had the night before. The fact was the boys had come to New York unexpectedly and had meant to return to Newark on the noon train. The new aeroplane having demonstrated the complete success of their latest ideas it had seemed right to report their experience to Major Baldwin Honeywell, the treasurer of the Universal Transportation Company and their closest adviser.
“We’ll have to get a move on us to see Major Honeywell before noon,” exclaimed Alan who soon joined his chum. “What do you suppose he’ll say about it?”
“What do you say yourself?” asked Ned as he manipulated the big bath towel. “It comes to me like a dream.”
“I’m afraid we didn’t give it enough consideration,” answered the other boy. “I’m not so warm in my feet on the subject to-day.”
“That’s all right,” panted Ned. “You’ll work into it. I think we did the right thing. We meant to try to do it anyway. Why not have an object?”
“And $50,000,” added Alan.
“That’ll help some,” replied Ned. “Advertising must really pay,” he continued, “when a newspaper gives up that much money just to make the world talk about it.”
“How can a paper afford it?” mused Alan. “It could transmit by cable all the copy those men can write coming over; and cheaper and quicker too.”
“But the pictures!” suggested Ned. “That’s what it’s really for. That’s the big thing. They’ll stand out like the first telephone or the first electric light. I reckon the stuff the Herald reporters write on the Flyer may seem fresher and better but you can bet the pictures are what the paper is after. They’ll beat the other papers by six days. You know what that means.”
“What’s what mean?” sang out Russell, flouncing into the room. “Mornin’, gents. Hustle along. I’m starved.”