Before the models of the submarines they stood for a long time, as they took in every detail of the plan and construction. And with Bert’s admiration was mingled a sense of gratitude. One of these it was that had picked him up when he was battling with the waves and hope had almost vanished. Even now, he could see the saucy little vessel as it poked its nose into the entrance of the Canal and darted here and there like a ferret, sniffing the danger that it came just in time to prevent. He remembered the fascination of that memorable trip, as he stood at the porthole and saw the wonders of the sea, illumined by its powerful searchlight. But that had simply whetted his appetite, and he was hungry for further experiences. Somewhere among his ancestors there must have been Viking blood, and the haunting mystery of the sea had always called to him.
“Some day, perhaps”—he thought to himself, and then as he saw the amused expression on his companions’ faces, he realized that he had spoken out loud.
“What’s the matter, Alexander?” chaffed Tom. “Weeping for more worlds to conquer?”
“He isn’t satisfied with the victories won on the earth,” mocked Dick. “He wants the sea, too. You’re a glutton for adventure, Bert.”
“Yes,” laughed Tom, “he won’t be happy till he gets it.”
“Oh, cut it out,” retorted Bert, a little sheepishly. “Since when did you fellows set up to be mind readers?”
But they were mind readers and prophets, too, though none of them knew it at the time.
“There’s still one other field to be explored,” went on Dick, teasingly, “and that’s the air.”
“Well,” remarked Tom, “if Bert’s going to try that, too, he’d better get busy pretty soon. They’re going ahead so fast there, that before long there won’t be anything new left to do. When fellows can turn somersaults in the air and fly along on their backs, like that Frenchman, Peguod, they’re certainly getting a strangle hold on old mother Nature. The way things are moving now, a man will soon be as safe in an airship as a baby in his cradle. Look at this Bleriot monoplane;” and they were soon plunged deep in the study of the various types of flying craft.
In another department, one thing gave Bert unlimited satisfaction. Among all the motorcycles, native and foreign, before which he lingered longer than anywhere else, he saw nothing that excelled his own. His heart swelled with pride and confidence, as he realized that none of his competitors in the coming struggle would have a better machine beneath him than the “Blue Streak.” He could drop any worry on that score. If he failed to come in first, he himself must shoulder the blame.