“And to think that you two lads, hardly more than schoolboys, invented her,” struck in Captain Andrews admiringly.
“I guess my father had a whole lot to do with it,” rejoined Jack modestly; “we could never have mastered a lot of knotty points without his aid.”
“Well, that doesn’t detract from what you’ve accomplished one bit,” declared Ned with enthusiasm. “This is the mode of traveling of the future all right.”
“We hope to make it so some day,” was Tom’s reply.
The night was almost windless, save for a slight puff now and then. But this didn’t bother the Flying Road Racer once she was under control, and Jack had managed to climb upward on an almost straight course.
Now he peered over the edge of the aluminum body. Beneath him he could see the gleam of the river in the starlight.
“We’ll follow the stream,” he decided. “It is bound to bring us to Herrera’s plantation.”
“Keep at a good height, though,” admonished Captain Andrews. “We know that those fellows have high-powered rifles.”
“We are now twenty-five hundred feet above the earth,” said Jack, glancing at the barograph. “We’ll go higher.”
He pulled a lever, setting the rising planes at a more acute angle. Up the aerial staircase they climbed, till the barograph’s indicator pointed to the figures five thousand.