They were delighted to learn that there had not, although they were pretty sure, anyhow, that they were the first to arrive. At the hotel, as the party entered it, having distanced the crowd by speeding through side streets, the manager bustled up and asked for Mr. William Barnes. Billy replied that he was the person sought.
“Then, there’s been a wire here for you more than a day,” said the manager. “It has been chasing you around every hotel in the city, I guess.”
He produced a yellow envelope. Billy opened it eagerly, and then gave a wide grin.
“Whoop-ee, look here,” he cried, extending the message to the boys to read.
“Will you accept position special correspondent with aeroplanes for Planet? Owe you an apology for unfortunate mistake. Reade’s treachery discovered.
“Stowe,
“Managing Editor Planet.”
Of course Billy Barnes accepted the commission, although for a time he had a struggle with his pride to do so. However, as Frank demonstrated to him, Mr. Stowe had acknowledged his mistake, and he would only have presented himself in the light of a stubborn, obstinate youth if he had refused to accept his offer.
The young reporter was in the Western Union office that night filing a long account of the incidents of the trip, not forgetting the accident to the dirigible and its subsequent safe arrival at Pittsburg—though several hours late—when Fred Reade entered. The Slade aeroplane had descended in Highland Park about three hours after the arrival of the boys, and the chagrin of the Despatch people and of Luther Barr and his crowd may be imagined when they learned that they had been badly beaten on the first leg of the trip.
There was a scowl on Reade’s face as he sat down and began to write. His anger deepened as he saw that Billy Barnes paid not the slightest attention to him. Finally he said sneeringly:
“What are you writing for now, anyhow? I thought you were out of a job.”