"Had you ridden often in airships before to-day, Mr. Roque?" inquired Billy.
Spitznagle muffled a chuckle by a slight fit of coughing when he heard the question, and muttered something to himself like "donner vetter!"
Roque turned a quick eye upon the fat offender, and then gave Billy a smiling look-over before he made response.
"I confess, young man, that I have enjoyed some lofty travel before I met you, but I am willing to admit that I could not teach you and that partner of yours many new tricks in flying the heavier than air kind of machines."
"How about the Zeppelins?" cried Spitznagle, who could no longer suppress a desire to show his knowledge of Roque's prowess as an airman.
"Hold your peace, Arnold," advised the secret agent, shaking his finger at the eager champion, "my business compels me to learn a little of everything, and it's all in a day's work, anyway."
The boys were satisfied that Roque's renown had not all of it been won on the ground. Spitznagle would have made a good witness to that effect if he had been permitted to speak.
While the tall clock in the turn of the winding staircase leading to the upper floor of the old house was whanging the twelve strokes of midnight, Roque and Spitznagle pledged the fatherland with uplifted goblets, and Billy and Henri offered a silent toast to the assured soft beds upstairs.
When the early morning brought no disturbance of their inclination for a little longer time to press the pillows, the boys sleepily guessed that Roque, for once, was not in a hurry to dash into new territory. As the sun kept climbing, and still no summons from below, curiosity overruled napping, and the young aviators decided to investigate the cause of this unusual consideration of their comfort.
Halfway down the stairway their ears convinced them that the place was not deserted, for a spirited conversation in the language of the country was in progress, accompanied by a clatter of dishes, and the ever present cooking odor of sausage assailed their noses.