“Beautiful! Beautiful!” said Doctor Trigg, as he watched the twinkling light-jewels disappear, and the planes turn back. “Um!” said Doctor Sims. “Trigg, I can’t just see the advisability of this Leland Stanford affair. Is the salary larger?” “Why, I’d forgotten it,” said Doctor Trigg. “Yes, they pay very generously.” “So does Princeton,” said Doctor Sims, loyally. “Of course; of course! Well, I haven’t made up my mind.” “Well, I can’t advise for it,” repeated Doctor Sims. He cleared his throat, and said rather forlornly, “Fact is, Trigg, I’d miss you. I—I—actually can’t see it, Trigg.” Doctor Trigg turned and regarded the gnarled and puckered old face. To him it looked a fine and open countenance, sincere and true. He patted the thin shoulder. “Old friend,” he said, “if I go, you go. Did you think for a minute that I could leave my old friend after forty years? No, no! I couldn’t get along without you.” Doctor Sims groped for the other’s hand, and shook it hard. A look of relief filled his face. “Hah—gr-r-r-r-rumph!” he said. “Exactly!” said Martin Trigg. CHAPTER XVI PARTNERS At two A. M. they were over Ayre, Ohio. The lateness of the hour made no difference in their welcome. Apparently all the able-bodied persons in the city had decided to make a night of it, and most of them had come out to the landing field to greet the silver ship. Big searchlights and hundreds of flares surrounded the field. The mast wore a crown of colored lights. Just as they reached the field, all lights were extinguished long enough to display the words “Welcome, Moonbeam” laid out on the ground in electric letters six feet in height. They flew so low that the watching throngs could see the passengers waving. The engines were stopped, and they hung for a minute in the white glare. They could hear, as once before, the crowd roaring a greeting to their own ship. “Moonbeam! Moonbeam!” rose the cry. Then darkness swallowed them again. “David,” said Red, “you just gotta tell Mr. Hammond.” “I don’t see it,” said David, stubbornly. “Think what a surprise it will be for him when we reach Lakehurst. We are bound to make the record he wants. I want you to tune her up to a hundred miles now.” Red leaned against the bench, twirling the screw on his wrench. “Look, David, if you do that, he’ll think you’ve held out on him. I would in his place. He knows all about the accelerator. Don’t you think he naturally wants to try it out, too? After all, Dave, he’s the chief—the commander of this ship, and he’s treated you darned white.” “You are right, of course,” said David after a long pause, reluctantly. “I sort of wanted to make him a present of the record at Lakehurst, but you are right.” “He’s in the salon,” said Red. “I’ll get him.” As Mr. Hammond came into the control room, he stopped to look at the indicator.