"Good!" exclaimed Matt. "We'll follow the river to New Orleans."
"Where we going to keep der air ship when we reach der city?" inquired Carl.
This was always a conundrum to the boys. The Hawk was so big and unwieldy, and withal so easily damaged, that to stow it away where it would be safe from wind and storm was a difficult problem.
"We might anchor the Hawk on some scow in the river," suggested Dick, "and then put the canvas cover over her. If we find we're going to stay in New Orleans long, it might pay to build a roof over the scow."
"That would cost too much," objected Matt. "It would take a mighty high roof to clear the top of the gas bag, and a mighty big one to cover it. Why not berth her on one of the docks? The docks are high, they're roofed, and there's always a watchman in charge."
"Right-o!" said Dick. "You've tagged on to the right rope, old ship. We'll use the docks. Stuyvesant Dock will about suit us. I was in this port once on the old Billy Ruffin. We coaled over in Algiers, and some of us had shore leaves. A great town, that, and——"
Carl, who had been leaning over the rail, went limp and white all of a sudden and looked around with staring eyes.
"What's the matter with you, mate?" demanded Dick, startled by the Dutch boy's manner. "Sick?"
"N-o-o," gurgled Carl, "I vas vat you call flappergasted—so astoundet mit vat I see dot I can't shpeak. Look ofer der site, und see vat you see py der rifer. Ach, du lieber! I don'd know vat to t'ink."