“Yes, they did.”
“In the Dictator?”
“Oh, no, and that’s the queer part of it. They may have lost their nerve—it looks that way. They may have hired someone else to take the risk of the trip. Anyhow, they got out of the Dictator after leaving Senca, and came back there at midnight. I slept that night in the place where they had built the Dictator. I saw them come, I saw them go away.”
“Brackett, you astonish me,” said Dave, bluntly. “Are you sure of what you say?”
“Perfectly,” declared the lad, with positiveness. “Davidson and Dawson came secretly to the old aerodrome. They had a big automobile, and loaded into it a long box. Both were disguised, and I recognized them only by their voices. I heard them speak of getting to the steamer. How to explain these dispatches, apparently dropped from the Dictator into the ocean, I don’t know. I’ve only told you what I do know.”
“Mr. King must know of this,” said Dave, thoughtfully.
No plausible solution of the tangle was arrived at, however. Amid the sheer exhilaration and activity of their own superb flight, the crew of the Albatross soon forgot the incident surrounding the rival airship with new mystery.
For two days and nights the giant airship made an even, steady run, true as a needle to a set course. There was a slight mist over the waters the next evening. So fair and promising was the weather, that Professor Leblance had deviated from the route he had first laid out. He had made an aerial short cut. The result was that they were somewhat out of the regular path of ocean travelers.
It was always a pleasure for the boys to watch out nights for the steamers far beneath them. That night, Grimshaw, seated at one of the windows, remarked in his usual laconic way:
“Light ahoy!”