Four passengers were carried aloft in each flight. Six persons were all Matt thought advisable to take up in the air ship, and of course he had to go along to take charge of the motor, and with him went either Dick or Carl to act as lookout and "crew." A charge of $25 was made for each passenger, and the flights had so captured the fancy of wealthy resorters that the boys had advance "bookings" that promised to keep them in Atlantic City all the summer. With $400 a day coming in, and a very small outgo for expenses, the chums were making money hand over fist.
On the afternoon when Carl was taking his dip in the ocean, and incidentally spoiling films for the moving-picture people, Matt and Dick, with their usual four passengers, had been making their last flight of the day over Absecon Island and the eastern coast of New Jersey.
One of the passengers on that trip was a Mr. Archibald Townsend, of Philadelphia. Passengers always showed a great interest in the air ship, but Mr. Townsend had shown more curiosity and had asked more questions than any of the others.
As Matt and Dick were bringing the Hawk down to the beach, they had witnessed the overturning of the Italian's "red-hot" outfit, and had seen Carl get clear of the wreck and race on toward the steel pier. Leaving Dick to make the air ship secure in her berth, Matt had tumbled out of the car and hurried after Carl. As we have already seen, the young motorist reached his Dutch chum just as the officer had laid hold of him.
The officer's name was McMillan, and he was arrogant and officious to a degree. He had been on duty along that part of the board walk ever since the chums had reached Atlantic City, and he had interfered with their operations to such an extent that Matt had found it necessary, on one occasion, to report him. On this account, McMillan was not very amiably disposed toward the young motorist and his friends.
"I don't care who this fellow is," growled the officer, nodding his head toward Carl, "no one can come here an' raise hob on the beach without bein' jugged for it. I saw what happened. The Dutchman knocked over the dago's cart."
"Dot feller," and here Carl pointed to the moving-picture man, "set der dog on me. Oof I hatn't knocked ofer der cart, der dog vould haf got me sure. Vat pitzness he got setting der dog on me, hey? He iss to plame, yah, dot's righdt."
"What did you want to butt into our picture for?" demanded the photographer.
"How I know you vas daking some mooting bictures?" demanded Carl. "I see dot young laty on der peach, und she vas in some greadt drouples; den I see dem birate fellers in der poat, going afder her, und nopody vould run mit demselufs to der resgue. Den I go. You bed my life, no laty vat iss in tisdress can be dot vay ven I vas aroundt."
"We'll have to do our work all over again to-morrow afternoon," went on the moving-picture man, "and I have to pay these actors more money for another afternoon's work."