“I’m wiring the men there to be on the watch.”
At last the overhauling of the Osprey’s motor was finished, and after a test preparations for the trip back were made. Word that this was to be the final test of the airline express had been broadcast, and the papers all over the country were on the alert for news. It was almost like a presidential election.
In the half-light of a cold dawn Tom and his friends took the air from the San Francisco field. As they mounted upward Ned happened to glance at a calendar hanging on the wall of the car.
“Did you know that, Tom?” he asked.
“Know what?”
“That this is Friday the thirteenth?”
“Well, what of it?” asked the inventor.
“Don’t you believe in luck?”
“Yes, when it’s with me!” Tom said, with a chuckle. “Not otherwise. I saw a black cat as we were taking off, and I guess that will neutralize Friday the thirteenth. Don’t worry!”
There seemed to be no cause for worry on the first leg of the final trip. They got off very well, and under the care of Dolan, who had recovered from his indisposition, the Osprey winged her way across the mountains like the bird whose name she bore.