“None better, I know. Get their line-up, Dashaway. Find out if they are really in earnest, or only jockeying for notoriety, or fleecing some gullible promoter.”
“All right,” agreed Dave; and that settled it with Mr. King, who had full confidence in the shrewd wits and fidelity of the boy he had taught to fly.
Dave was to start for Senca the next evening. He passed a glorious morning at the aerodrome. The French inventor was one of the most interesting men he had ever met. Leblance was all business, but very enthusiastic and optimistic in his work. He took a fancy to Dave, and told him things about transatlantic aircraft and airmen that were part of an actual education to the young aspirant for aeronautic honors.
The construction of the Albatross had progressed far enough to show a practical form and substance. No expense was being spared. The men under Leblance were experts in their line, and Dave was amazed at the details they were working out.
“It’s money well invested,” declared Mr. Dale, “if it only serves to produce the most perfect airship ever built.”
“Why, if they put all the things in the Albatross they count on,” said Dave, “it will be like a trip on a high-class ocean steamship!”
“Wait till she’s done, my friend,” observed Leblance. “We shall see—and we shall cross the Atlantic; oh, never fear.”
Grimshaw and Hiram put in an appearance by noon. The latter went wild over the Albatross. He believed implicitly in Dave, and the young aviator believed in the giant airship under construction.
“If they let me go on that trip,” said Hiram, breathlessly, “I’ll be the proudest and the happiest fellow in the world.”
“You are going, if any of us do,” promised Mr. King, and the delighted Hiram moved about as if he was treading on air.