They passed on, leaving the two newspaper men to speculate as to what Fred could have meant, if anything.
"Publicity won't hurt," said Fred, laconically. "And we didn't tell them anything."
At the express office there was a note for Jack. It was from the telegraph office, asking that he call there for a telegram.
Needless to say, they lost no time in going to the latter place.
"Wire here for me?" Jack asked. "Name's Carew."
"Yes, sir; much obliged to you for stopping in for it," the telegraph operator answered, at the same time shooting a queer look at the group as he passed over the long yellow envelope.
Jack tore it open, unfolded and glanced at the yellow sheet within, then gave a short laugh.
"It's from the weather man at Washington," he said to the operator, "and he says we'll probably have a snowy Christmas."
"Humph!" was the only expression of the knight of the key as the four filed out of his office. "Smart Aleck!" he muttered, when the door had closed behind them and they were well out of hearing.
It was, in fact, a code telegram from the Henckel-Bradley Company, makers of the plane in which the lads were about to attempt the overseas flight.