But Hike was used to seeing officer aviators grow enthusiastic, and he replied, “Bite yourself dead” to Poodle, before he answered the other, “That sounds great, Mr. Priest. I’d like awfully to see your machine.”
Martin Priest led the way to the door of the aerodrome. Inside was a structure like a huge blunt wedge, made up of hundreds of the small wings. It was like a crowd of white butterflies, or the swarming of big white bees.
While the boys stood gaping at this strange cluster, and the rudder and elevating planes, Martin Priest ramped up and down, explaining, throwing about long words that made Poodle jump. They didn’t get much out of the explanation, but at the end of it Hike turned to Priest and said:
“I’m not as old as Methusaleh, and I guess there’s still at least a couple of things about aviating that I haven’t learned, but I can see that this machine would be mighty safe, and I should think it could carry all sorts of a load. Well, I’ll just grab the United States Army—or Lieutenant Adeler, anyway, and make him help you. I’ll put the Army behind you!”
Martin Priest laughed. “That’s a pretty large order for an old man like you, isn’t it?” he asked Hike.
“Uh huh,” calmly remarked that worthy. “But I’m goin’ to do it. We’ll be back here—couple of days—with Lieutenant Adeler.... Come on, you young Poodle.”
“Uh huh,” said Poodle. “Sure, I’ll come.... But I was so comfortable sitting here on this box!” Groaning, he bestirred his round cheerful self to follow Hike’s easy lope up the hill, toward their camp.
CHAPTER III
LIEUTENANT ADELER AND WIBBELTY-WOBBELTY
Major James Griffin, commander of the Army Signal Corps at the Monterey Presidio, did not know that the two boys who came riding up to the door of his office were bearing a great message. He didn’t even know that the taller was the great Hike Griffin. He believed him to be merely Jerry Griffin, Son. Why, sometimes he even thought of him as Gerald Griffin! And, to him, Poodle was only “the son of my old friend Tom Darby.” So he was not much impressed when the boys came scurrying in; excited, though they were tired and what Poodle called “feak and weeble around the knees,” from their hard fast ride back up the coast.
“Well, boys,” smiled the tall, slender, gentle Major, “did you have a good ride?”