“And it’s a fact, Davie, I actually go around stoppin’ kids on the street, and preachin’ school to ’em. I say, ‘Smoke if you like, and drink if you want to be a fool; but lay off long enough to get yourself through high school.’ And I’m like the poor fella in Lawton. I’ve a dark suspicion that I’m wastin’ words.” CHAPTER V A STOWAWAY Day whirled after day, filled with pleasant labor. Each morning the Moonbeam was sent up for a flight which sometimes occupied but a few hours, and sometimes stretched into the night. At first there were many little things to do for her; adjustments, changes, the tightening of a screw here, the tuning up of a brace there. Men watched the propeller shafts, and listened to the smooth roar of the engines in their throbbing “eggs.” Captain Fraine, with his navigators at his side, tried for altitude and depth; nosed up, swept down, turned the ship in majestic circles. She responded perfectly. Her bulk, so much greater than that of any previous dirigible, seemed to have no effect in the action of her great engines, and she answered the wheel with absolute ease. At mess one night Red strolled over to David’s table with a letter. “From Padre Ryan,” he said. David took the sheet. It was brief. Dear Swan: Your night letter enchants me. I rejoice that you’ve such a big chance before you. And if you don’t uphold the honor of the family I’ll lay the curse of Saint Morvin on you. He’s little known, but most efficacious. I’ll pray for you. As a child you had a bad way of leaning out of upstairs windows. Have the ship screened. Your devoted and loving brother, John. David laughed. “He must be a card, all right.” “Well, he’s not so bad,” said Red. “A kindly priest, and a good son to his mother. David, I’m all set for the take-off.” So was David. On the morning of the fifteenth, he was the first man at the hangar, and it was his hand that pressed the lever, putting in motion the mechanism that slid back the great doors. It was not yet dawn, but a vast mob packed the field. For months the building of the great dirigible had been followed, detail by detail, by an interested public. Her plans, charts and dimensions had appeared in all the leading newspapers and magazines, accompanied by long articles. Finally came the news of her completion. The announcement of the round-the-world flight as her maiden effort was the spark which caused the enthusiasm of the public to burst into flame. A year ago they had watched the detailed accounts of the Graf Zeppelin, as radiograms marked her flight.