While Bob, followed by several of the others, dashed out of the room, Dave Brandon, with Cranny at his heels, started up-stairs.
Cranny, presently, banged open the trap-door, then, reaching down, took from the stout boy’s hands the telescope and stand.
“I see it—I see it!” he yelled, before Dave Brandon had even time to put his head and shoulders through the opening, “and it’s sure coming this way.”
Dave clambered out upon the gently-sloping roof.
Coming from the direction of Border City was a cigar-shaped object, clearly defined against a gloomy expanse of clouds. The air-ship seemed sailing straight before the wind, and this, Dave Brandon calculated, would allow it to pass within half a mile of the ranch-house.
“It looks to me as though Mr. Ogden were right,” commented Dave, as he got the instrument into position, while Cranny braced the stand.
“Hurry up; let me get a squint,” pleaded the other.
Dave put his eye to the telescope.
Space instantly seemed to be annihilated; the great air-ship loomed up grim and majestic, sailing apparently close at hand, its planes and rudder shining brightly against a threatening sky. At the forward end two figures were dimly visible behind one of the mica-covered windows.
The impressive sight held Dave Brandon in its grip. Here and there, steel tubing or wire rope caught a gleam of light, while upon the top of the great yellowish gas-bag was reflected a grayish hue from the heavy clouds above.