“Well, the idea is this. Neither the Herald nor Ned and I want to do any talkin’ if this thing ain’t a go. If we stick our nose in the Jersey marshes or drop into the Sound we’ll let the other fellows guess at what we were tryin’ to do. But as the Herald suggests, if we reach London and get back, there isn’t any reason why the story shouldn’t be told and told right. The editor wants to get up a full account of the Flyer, its motive power, pictures of it, the program of its proposed voyage, the route and a sketch of its ‘brilliant’ crew, and have it all ready to print the moment we return.”
“But what if we don’t quite do it?” broke in Buck.
“There won’t be any story to print,” laughed Alan.
“How are we interested, specially?” asked Bob, pointing to young Stewart and himself.
“You’ll have to write the story, that’s all,” answered Alan. “Who else could?”
The young Kentuckian sprang to his feet.
“I told you I’d stick around,” he cried. “I told you something would turn up.”
“Say,” added Bob skeptically, “don’t get excited. I’ve been on the point of almost puttin’ over a story about those wise young fellows a good many times. But don’t you count on ’em. Don’t forget they haven’t consented yet. I’m not goin’ to believe there’s any job like that comin’ to me till it gets here.”
“The way things look now,” continued Alan, laughing, “I think I’m in favor of the idea. If Ned is, it’ll probably go through.”
Neither of the reporters waited for formal orders. During the afternoon they persuaded Alan to have the giant aeroplane hauled out into the deserted factory yard, and Bob photographed it from every angle, getting views in general and in detail. Alan was also pictured in a half-Arctic costume. That evening, borrowing typewriters from Mr. Atkinson’s business office, Bob and Buck began writing a story that they hoped would be wanted.