Lakehurst, they found, when the ship slid into view above the field, was at least ready with a noisy welcome. Whistles, horns and sirens tooted, screeched and moaned. The landing crew ran out to secure the ropes, as Captain Fraine eased her gracefully down. The steps were adjusted, and the door of the passenger gondola was opened. The passengers, warned that they must be on board again at eleven o’clock, stepped down, not sorry to find terra firma actually under their feet again. A group of officials and leading citizens welcomed Mr. Hammond and his officers, and the ship was rapidly propelled into the big hangar, where the local force of mechanics and engineers assisted the Moonbeam’s own crew in a microscopic examination of every part. An extra amount of fuel and gas was taken on, being stored in the place of ballast. An extra quantity of dry ice was shipped, and all commissary stores checked up. Time passed rapidly, and the passengers commenced to return, hurrying in taxis and on foot. Mr. Hamilton’s secretary rushed ahead with a bundle of telegrams; Doctors Trigg and Sims came with their arms full of papers and magazines; a car whirled up, and the driver hurriedly approached Dulcie just as she was about to mount into the gondola and handed her a great box from the officers of the field. Long rose stems stuck intriguingly out at one end. “What has happened to Captain Fraine?” inquired David of Mr. Hammond as they stood near the steps. Looking very white, Captain Fraine approached. A couple of young officers accompanied him. He held a bloodstained handkerchief to his head but managed to laugh as he saw them. “Not so bad as it looks, commander,” he said lightly. “What happened?” demanded Mr. Hammond. “They are doing some construction work back in the hangar,” one of the strangers explained, “and something had loosened the supports of a platform where some boards were lying. A two-by-four slipped off, and came down and hit the captain here, right on the head. It might have been pretty serious. It’s too bad.” “It will be all right as soon as Dr. Forsythe puts a bit of plaster on it. Don’t think of it.” “We’ll get on board, and see the doctor at once,” advised Mr. Hammond. “Go with him, David.” Dr. Forsythe proceeded to examine the bump. It was a bad one, but the skin was only slightly broken. He stopped the bleeding, and plastered it up. Captain Fraine declared that he felt as good as new, and went directly into the control room, while David returned to Mr. Hammond. “Weren’t we to pick up Walter Cram here at Lakehurst?” he inquired. “We were,” Mr. Hammond replied. “He has just five more minutes to get here.” “Well, looks like he’d made it, at that,” said David, as a taxi raced up, stopped at the gate with a jolt, and an agitated figure leaped out and hurried across the field, a suitcase in each hand. A minute later, Cram stood smiling beside them, breathless but still self-assured.