"Once in awhile, matey," laughed Ferral, "a sea ship goes down."
"Yah," averred Carl, "und she shdays town. Go on mit dot song vat you vas singing mit yourseluf, Tick, der dime vat you vas coming py der poarding house to see Matt. It vas a pooty fine song, I tell you dot."
Ferral had a fine voice, and he at once broke into "In Cawsand Bay Lying," and followed it through from start to finish.
Harris thereupon tuned up, and when he got through Carl piped out in German. This singing was kept up, off and on, during the entire trip across the lake.
It was decided, just as the air ships were hoving over South Chicago, that Matt and his chums should take the Hawk to the balloon house and stow her away there. Harris would go on to Jerrold's place in the Eagle, and then send a couple of policemen from headquarters to watch the Hawk until the boys were ready to leave.
This programme was carried out without a break. It was about three o'clock in the morning when the boys got their sand bags in place along the bottom rail of the car and towed the Hawk into her old berth.
Half an hour after that a detail of two officers arrived and went on guard. Matt, Ferral and Carl went into the small room at the back of the balloon house, and two of them took possession of the cots and the third had a bed made for him on the floor. It was Carl who stretched out between the two cots, and it was he who remarked, just before he dozed off to sleep:
"You fellers came pooty near daking a long shleep here, hey?"
"Stow it, matey!" cried Ferral. "I'll be dreaming about that now."
"Ach, donnervetter!" returned Carl, "dere iss pedder t'ings as dot to tream aboudt, Ferral. For insdunce, tream oof der vay Matt shtruck some shtreaks oof hardt luck, und den turned der hardt luck to goot atvantage py gedding Prady gaptured."