Red took him aside. “Something’s in the wind, fella. You didn’t get to handle that ship just because they loved you. And there’s older chief mechanics than me who might have gone. Watch out!” Two days later the Moonbeam was completed. The last workmen crawled out of the hull, while decorators reverently closed the door of the great passenger gondola. Every bag, cord, wire, seam, every bolt and screw had been tested and retested. She hung aloft in the vast hangar, a beautiful and majestic thing, ready for the infinite. David gazed and gazed. “Before I managed to ditch school,” said Red unexpectedly at his side, “they read us about a place called Mount Olympus. Grand big women lived there. Goddesses. Not real, you know, but I got an awful kick out of ’em. And the Moonbeam; ain’t she a goddess? Those old goddesses used to pick up a mortal like they were nothin’ and carry them off. And here’s a silver ship, just waiting to gather up a load of folks, like an armful of babies, and go soarin’ out and up and away into—Oh, my gosh! the thought makes me want to yell. I want to jump on my hat, or fight somebody.” David smiled. “I know. Pipe down, old son. Come on to quarters. I’m dog tired, and the silver ship will wait.” The following morning the ship took her maiden walk out of the hangar, and was moored to the mast. Seeing her there, automobiles began to gather, street-car lines disgorged curious sightseers, and for hours a big crowd milled under the glistening shape. Toward evening the ship was drawn down and returned to the hangar. At supper an official-looking envelope was brought to David. He read its contents unbelieving, then again perused the terse sentences. Headquarters Aeronautical Board, Goodlow-Zeppelin Company, Ayre, Ohio. Subject: Detail, Assistant Pilot, Moonbeam. To: David Ellison, Pilots’ School, Goodlow-Zeppelin Company. You have been selected by the Aeronautical Board of the Goodlow-Zeppelin Company to fill the position of assistant pilot on the dirigible Moonbeam, on its first trip around the world, leaving the hangar at Ayre, Ohio, at six A. M. on June 15th, 1930. Your presence desired at headquarters, at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. George Paine Porter, Director, Lighter-than-Air Craft, Goodlow-Zeppelin Company. David forgot his supper, forgot everything. It could scarcely be real! While he struggled with his surprise and delight, hardly believing the good fortune that he had not even dared to hope for, he heard Red’s voice. “Read it! Read it, fella!” he cried, and he pressed into David’s hand a letter similar to his own, appointing Red as chief mechanic on the round-the-world flight of the Moonbeam. For once Red had nothing to say. The moment was too great, the news too stupendous.