Now a ship of their own; an American ship financed with American money and manned, from the commander down, with Americans, was to essay the same journey, hoping to better the time of the Graf Zeppelin. The papers devoted pages to the anticipated adventure. Radiograms, cables, letters of congratulation and good wishes, invitations from half the countries of Europe asking Mr. Hammond to detour in their several directions and stop off, were printed for the pleasure of a public which felt a proprietary interest in the Moonbeam. All night the field had been black with people. With fine democracy they slept in their trucks, their flivvers, or their Packards, and at intervals ate hot dogs and sandwiches. Hundreds of soldiers labored to keep the field about the hangar clear for the departure of the outgoing ship. And still they came. The first trolleys were packed with frantic hordes that pushed and jostled to get near the ropes that had been stretched along for hundreds of yards, and through which people continually broke. At last, as the crews walked the great gleaming shape out onto the field, a deafening cheer broke like a portentous wave. Hoarse voices cried, “Good luck, Moonbeam! Good luck!—’ray! ’ray! ’ray!—Go in and win, Moonbeam! Beat the Zep! Beat the Zep!” When Mr. Hammond’s car drove up, Dulcie hopped gaily out, her little Pekinese hugged under her arm. “Isn’t this jam perfectly terrific?” she said to Captain Fraine. “We could scarcely get through.” “Most of them have been here all night,” said Captain Fraine. “They’re certainly enthusiastic. These troops the Governor sent down have had a lively time keeping them off the field.” “Any of the passengers here yet?” asked Dulcie. “Most of them, although it’s early yet. They seem afraid the boat will start without them!” “I’m going on board,” said Dulcie. “I want to put dad’s bicarbonate where he will see it. He always loses it, poor dear, whenever he gets indigestion.” “Plenty of time, Miss Hammond,” said Fraine, as he escorted her to the steps leading up to the passenger gondola. “I wish you were going with us.” “So do I!” sighed Dulcie. She went into her father’s cabin, and arranged several small bottles and boxes on a shelf. Her father came in. “Wish I dared take you with me, honey,” he said wistfully. “But I can’t risk you, can I? If anything should happen—” “It’s just as you say, daddy. I’ve teased all I have the face to. But please don’t wave at me when you start. I might bust right out and cry. So I’ll run right off and get lost in the crowd.” “You behave yourself while I’m gone, Dulcie, and no running around with that young bounder of a Greene chap back home.” “I won’t speak to him while you are away,” Dulcie promised. “And I will behave all the time exactly as though you had your eye on me.” She kissed him lightly, and was gone, leaving him with a feeling of loneliness and loss that overshadowed the pleasure of the take-off.