When Mr. Hammond, after a restless night, reached the hangar Friday morning, he found David and Red there before him, looking fresh and crisp. Both were in overalls. Mr. Hammond frankly acknowledged to the boys his disappointment in the performance of the ship during the trip over Siberia and the Pacific. “I was sure we’d pick up speed, but those head winds have made us lose our chance to make the record I wanted,” he said gloomily. “She just can’t do it.” “We could gain a little by setting a straight course, instead of flying over so many cities,” David suggested. “It’s not good policy,” said Mr. Hammond. “Those big cities want to see the ship, and really it is their right to do so. No, we will make as good time as we can on our predetermined course.” He walked aft. “Gee, the Big Fella’s low!” said Red, looking after him. “But only a few hours more, and we will be ready for him. They promised to deliver those screws by nine-thirty. It won’t take half an hour then to finish installing them. Look here, don’t you mean to tell the chief at all?” “Not until we hang over Lakehurst; and not then, if it’s a flop.” “Come and get a sody while we wait,” suggested Red. “You are nervous.” “Why wouldn’t I be?” demanded David. The passengers commenced to wander back; the crew gathered, and went to their places; the usual dense crowd blackened the landing field. Dulcie, still tired, had the peaceful sensation of returning home. Her father, for the first time since the ship started from Lakehurst, showed a strain. It hurt him to lose the distinction of making a record, but he had definitely given up the hope of doing so. David’s seeming unconcern hurt him a little, but he supposed David was too young to take such things much to heart. The ship took off without accident, the ground crew working with the smooth accuracy of a machine. It was eleven twenty-five of Friday, July second. They started eastward through the crystalline, clean air of California—air which always carries its own celestial aroma; a perfume, vague and delicate, made of millions of flowers, seas of fruit, leagues of pines, all washed with the faint breath of the sea. “In point of fact,” said Doctor Sims, judicially, “the enthusiasm of the Californian seems perfectly justifiable. I was rather annoyed at first by what I thought was the bombastic attitude of our barker. But the young man, while enthusiastic, was really quite moderate in his statements.” “Decidedly,” agreed Doctor Trigg. “I was recently offered a chair at Leland Stanford University. I hesitated to accept it, but I believe it would be a fine place for an old man to finish his career.” “Gr-r-r-r-r-uh!” said Doctor Sims in his worst growl. “Wild goose chase, I’d call it! Perfect nonsense! At your age, crazy! New climate, new type of students. How do you know how it would affect your lumbago? Silly, plain silly!” “Possibly! Possibly!” Doctor Trigg agreed.