To the boys who had feared that the rival must have been almost in San Francisco by that time this was cheering news, and the Golden Eagle’s planes were hurriedly readjusted, as she was put in shape for a continuation of her trip. Early the next day the start was made. Bart Witherbee was left behind at his mine, in which he had insisted on the boys, much against their will, each taking a share. Old Mr. Joyce also received a large enough portion of the general good luck to secure him from want and give him ample leisure to work out his queer inventions. The Witherbee mine—he calls it the Aeroplane—is now one of the most famous in the west.
The boys had determined to shape their course by Doolittle, as it was on their direct path westward, and they wished also to get out of the mountainous region of the foothills. As Doolittle came in sight they had an opportunity to view their rival for the first time in many days. Her big red gas bag showed like a bright crimson flower above the sober gray of the prairie town. That their rivals had sighted them was soon made evident by the fact that a flag was run up on the single staff the town possessed and the citizens wheeled out a rusty old cannon and began firing it like mad. When the boys were within a mile of the town they made ready to drop messages which, as they sailed above, they cast down. They could see the people scrambling furiously for them.
“I hope they leave enough of them to send back home,” laughed Harry as they saw the wild struggle.
That day was to be a memorable one for the town of Doolittle. As the aeroplane passed above it, the faithful escorting auto not far behind, the big dirigible also was shot into the air.
Mr. McArthur from his deck waved a greeting to the boys and hailed them through a megaphone.
“Glad to see you,” he hailed. “Hurray, for ’Frisco!”
All that afternoon the two ships sailed along in company, the boys’ aeroplane slightly in the lead. As the sun sank lower a big bank of clouds arose toward the north and the sun glowed with a peculiar red light.
A light breeze also sprang up, but instead of being cooling it was as hot as if it had blown from an oven door.
“We’re in for a storm,” remarked Frank, “or I’m very much mistaken.”
“What, a regular rain and wind storm?” asked Harry. “I thought they only had those in the hills in this part of the country.”