This business formality was quickly carried out, and when Matt left the chief's office, his Chicago bank account looked as though it had been sandbagged. But Matt had the chief's agreement in his pocket, and his heart was light and his hopes buoyant.
Carl and Ferral were waiting for him in the hotel office.
"The Hawk belongs to us, Dick," announced Matt, and both Carl and Ferral began to rejoice. "We've got to take possession to-morrow——"
"The quicker the better!" cried Ferral.
"What are we going to do with the machine?"
"Do?" gasped Ferral blankly. "Why, fly in it, of course! Navigate the skies."
"We can't be in the skies all the time. We'll have to come down once in awhile, for gasoline, if for nothing else, and for gas. Where are we going to keep the Hawk while she's on the ground?"
"Hitch her to a tree," suggested Ferral. "It's easy enough to find moorings for such a craft."
"But, if there's a storm, the Hawk will have to be protected."
"Py shinks," muttered Carl, "dere iss more to der pitzness as vat I t'ought."