“It has held that, according to the chart, ever since we left Los Angeles,” said David. There was a tremor in his voice, that he could scarcely control. “If it only works, if it only works!” his heart kept whispering.
“If it only works!” he said when Red came forward to look at the indicator.
Red gave him a look of disgust.
“If it works! Why, it is working, you dumb-bell! Ninety! Has the commander seen it? Well, when are you going to tell him?”
“When we reach Lakehurst,” said David. “I want to work it out. It is only fair to me to do that.”
“It’s your funeral,” sighed Red, “and I’ll not say a word, but my, wouldn’t I enjoy it just to break the glad news to him!”
From then on the dial gradually grew to be the center of a group of amazed and delighted officers. It climbed to ninety-one, wavered, went to ninety-three, ninety-four and steadied at ninety-five miles an hour.
David called down to the five eggs by telephone, and the engineers declared that the engines were working as usual, with no extra expenditure of gas.
Before Saturday dawned they were rushing over Texas. Soon El Paso was beneath them, then she faded away. At twelve-thirty, Kansas City, secure on the border line of two states, greeted them with bells, whistles and bombs. Then the yelling crowds, standing on roofs and blocking thoroughfares, and the inevitable escort of flitting planes, were behind them. At seven that evening, going ninety-eight miles an hour, they passed Chicago, the city roaring back at their roaring engines.
At eleven Detroit appeared, her forests of chimneys belching flames of greeting, while hundreds of brazen factory whistles screeched their welcome.