As they drew near, a man with a megaphone appeared on her bridge and signaled that he wanted to hail them. Frank shut down the engine and the two air-ships drew alongside.
"What ship is that?" hailed the man on the bridge of the red air-ship, who wore yachting flannels as did his three companions.
"The Luther Barr of New York," responded Frank for lack of a better name.
"We are the Dos Hermanos, five days out from Cuba, bound for Jacksonville, Florida," was the response, "can you spare us any bread?"
"Come alongside," responded Frank in a hearty tone, "and we'll give you some tins of pilot bread."
"Bully for you," responded the red air-ship man.
The two dirigibles drifted together and the boys handed over some tins of pilot bread or ship biscuit with which the larder of the Luther Barr, as Frank had called her, was well provided.
"Thank-you," shouted the men on the red dirigible, as the lines were cast off, "good-bye and good luck."
"Same to you," hailed the boys, as the engines were started. An hour later the red dirigible had vanished on its voyage to the north.
"Well," said Frank, "that's the first time I've ever heard of 'ships that pass in air and speak to each other in passing.' I'm glad we were able to help a fellow voyager out."