The Wondership, as on the previous occasion, was quietly but quickly assembled, and made ready to take its homeward flight. They had chosen a spot on Manhattan island still very meagerly developed, and so were not at all troubled by curious onlookers. Jack, to whom his father had explained in detail the use of Z.2.X.—or Coloradite, as they had decided to call it—busied himself almost exclusively with the radio telephone apparatus. When all was ready, he sent his father the following telegram:
"Expect message, using Coloradite from New York."
The next morning they ascended. Round and round the Wondership circled, a golden speck against the blue sky. In a quarter of an hour the great metropolis seemed nothing but a giant beehive, with millions of busy workers ever hurrying in hundreds of different directions. The cars and automobiles were only like giant bees, moving somewhat swifter than those on what looked like fine threads of cotton or wool.
"What a small place New York is after all," observed the professor.
"It is larger than Boston," said Tom slyly,
"Perhaps," admitted the man of science haughtily, "but not as learned or stately—no city can take its culture away from Boston."
Jack smiled, and in order to change the conversation, asked Tom, "How high now?"
"About fifteen hundred feet," guessed Tom.
"Wrong," said Jack, glancing at the barograph on the dashboard in front of him. "We have reached two thousand eight hundred feet."
"I must be asleep," said Tom, frowning. "Shall I connect the alternator?"