“There she is, just here from Monterey. Arrived late last night.” Hike had to grin at the bewilderment on the General’s face. “If you and the Board will come up to the roof, I’ll drive that tetrahedral in circles all over Washington, at two hundred miles an hour. Then we’ll see if Mr. Captain Welch oughtn’t to mention—” “Respect toward him till he’s proven remiss, Jerry,” warned the General. “But I’m sure we’ll be glad to come up and see you fly. Well, well, _well_! Two hundred miles an hour! And a boy like you! Well, _well_! But Jerry, are you sure it’s safe? I wouldn’t want Jim Griffin’s son to get hurt— Well, if you came clear from Monterey—” So the General herded his Board of Aviation to the roof of the State, War, and Navy Building. Captain Willoughby Welch, his report interrupted, very indignant and amazed, followed them. Hike had hurried down to the White House grounds. It took him ten minutes to persuade the policemen handling the crowd gathered about the _Hustle_ that he had a right to get up near her; but once he had edged to her, he swung himself in and started the engine. The crowd scattered in fear. “Going two hundred an hour. And over buildings—bum currents between buildings. You watch the engine,” Hike directed Poodle, who drawled back, “Did they make you a general while you were up in the war shack, or only a colonel?” Hike took her up easily. Even at fifty miles an hour, they seemed to be “going some,” as they rushed over business blocks and church steeples. But he quickly shoved her up to a hundred—a hundred and fifty—two hundred miles an hour. They were now over the Capitol grounds, then almost instantly way out over Georgetown, whirling with breath-taking speed along the Potomac, then making a couple of huge but dismayingly quick circles over the Washington Monument. At first, in the bad air-drafts, the _Hustle_ tossed like a small boat in a blow, but Hike climbed up to four thousand feet, where the _Hustle_, with her great expanse of planes, ran fairly steadily and smoothly. Hike suddenly began making great circles about the whole city, smaller circles and higher each time, so that the _Hustle’s_ path was like a corkscrew. Up and up he dashed, to twelve thousand feet; climbing much quicker than one could in the unsteady ordinary biplanes. Once up at that magnificent height, from which he could see, through a slight mist, the capital city spread out like a dim map, he stopped the motor, and came volplaning down like a lazy butterfly, till he was within five hundred feet of the crowd atop the State, War, and Navy Building.