“And yet,” mused the professor, with his eyes fixed intently on Nat, as the lad stood at the wheel, “without the ability to understand them, those instruments would be worthless. Conradini, the Italian explorer, learned that.”
“At the expense of his life,” put in Nat. “The lesson was lost.”
“Ah, you have heard of Conradini?” asked the professor, in seeming surprise.
“I have read of him in that pamphlet on aerial exploration issued by the Italian Royal Society,” was the reply.
The professor readjusted his glasses. In his astonishment, he almost lost his latest piece of headgear—loaned him by Ding-dong. It was a not too reputable-looking Scotch tam o’shanter.
“You have a knowledge that surprises me in one so young,” he declared at last. “You take an interest in exploration, then?”
“That was the object of the Motor Rangers, when first we founded them,” declared Nat. “I think,” he added, with a twinkle in his eye, “that we’ve had our fair share of adventure.”
“From what you have told me of your enterprises, I agree with you,” assented the professor warmly. “But you have not told me yet of the future.”
“How do you mean?” asked Nat.
“I mean, what plans have you ahead of you? What do you intend to do next?”