“How bring him? By the tetrahedral? Great—that will be the final test! And I’ll ask Captain Welch to go with—” began the General.
Then he turned to Captain Welch who, in the farthest corner of the room, was scowling and glowering, as though he had just lost a battle. As he looked at the Captain, General Thorne’s nice eyes suddenly grew cold, and he went on, sarcastically:
“Or no. I remember that Captain Welch was so busy investigating Jolls aeroplanes that he couldn’t take time to look into this tetrahedral, even though it was right there at Monterey. I think we’ll have Captain Welch relieved from further duty in this matter. I’ll ask you, Major Tomkins, to go with this young man—Major Tomkins, Mr. Gerald Griffin—in the tetrahedral, and make a careful study of its working during its trip to California and back. Please regard him as completely in charge of it, however. And Mr. Jerry—did you tell me that Mr.—Mr. Priest, is it?—the inventor—is at Monterey? Bring him here, too, if he’ll come. Good-by, and God bless you, my boy!”
While Signal Corps mechanics were looking over the Hustle to make sure that everything was all right, Hike and Poodle got a massage and three hours’ sleep, and then, with Major Tomkins respectfully sitting in the forward passenger-seat, they went whirling westward again.
General Thorne was saying to himself, “The only thing that I’m sorry for is that I didn’t have a chance to give those two boys a banquet. And now let me look into the record of our too-clever Captain Willoughby Welch. I think I see trouble ahead for him!”
CHAPTER X
THAT MILLION DOLLARS
Hike had scarcely gone a hundred miles before he found that he was going to be too tired to send the Hustle as fast as he should; and he immediately started teaching Major Tomkins the principles of driving it. The Major knew nearly every make of aeroplane, and had made a brilliant record, in a Nieuport monoplane, in a St. Petersburg to Turin international race. He soon picked up the few necessary differences in running the Hustle; and when they struck the broad plains of the Middle West, Hike finally had a chance to go into that Land of Sleep, into which Poodle had chubbily toddled long since.
Hike awoke once. The machine was stopped; and landed near a Kentucky village. The Major had found that one of the wheels on the chassis was threatening to jar loose, at their terrific speed, and was fixing it. Then Hike peacefully slumbered off again, and did not take the levers till they were over Western Kansas.
At Benicia Arsenal, California, they found the Lieutenant, “good old Jack Adeler,” as Hike yelled at him, nervously and joyously waiting them. The commandant of the Arsenal insisted on their stopping for dinner, and even Major Tomkins was not treated with greater respect than was young Hike Griffin, whom the commandant toasted admiringly.