[CHAPTER XII]
Racing an Airship
It was a hot, oppressive day when Bert set out from Ralston. But he had had a restful sleep, and felt in fine trim for anything. He had eaten a hearty breakfast, and this no doubt added to his feeling of buoyancy and satisfaction with life in general. In addition, his mount was acting beautifully, purring along with the deep-throated exhaust that tells its own story of fine adjustments and perfect carburetion.
The country through which he traveled was very flat, and for mile after mile he glided easily along, encountering no obstructions worthy of the name. The road was smooth, and, contrary to the general run of roads in this section, comparatively free from sand and dust. The fresh, invigorating air added to his feeling of exhilaration, and he was tempted to “open ’er up” and do a little speeding.
He had about decided to do so, when suddenly he became conscious of hearing some noise not proceeding from his machine.
At first he thought it must be an automobile coming up back of him, but, as he glanced over his shoulder, he could see no sign of one, although the road stretched out for miles without a break.
Instantly his mind grasped the significance of the sound.
“It must be an aeroplane,” he thought, and, glancing upward, was not much surprised to see one outlined against the clear blue of the sky.
“Well, well,” thought Bert, “this is an unexpected pleasure. I didn’t know there was an aeroplane within two hundred miles of here.”