So, overcoming his natural curiosity to see what the note contained, Tom resolutely thrust it into his pocket and gave his whole attention to directing the management of the _Falcon_, which was the plane and accompanying car selected to hop off on the first leg of the transcontinental trip. The other planes were named, respectively, the _Eagle_ and the _Osprey_. This last name was chosen by Tom as fitting for the plane in which he hoped to ride when he sighted the Pacific coast and ocean. For the osprey is a fish-hawk, and Ned agreed with Tom that it was a most appropriate name for a craft in which they hoped to sight an ocean with its millions of fish. Tom, together with Ned, Mr. Damon, and some assistants, rode in the hanging car, while in the cockpit of the aeroplane above them were Harry Meldrum and Bert Dodge, the two able mechanicians. Once he had seen for himself how the car behaved, Tom intended to take his shift in the cockpit, piloting the plane part of the time. Tom had invited Mr. Jacks to make the first trip, but the eccentric millionaire, whose money had enabled the initial planes to be finished and who had promised to invest a hundred thousand dollars more in case Tom could successfully complete six round trips, had smiled as he shook his head. “None of that for me!” he had answered. “Runaway horses are dangerous enough, without tempting fate in the shape of an aeroplane. I wouldn’t go up for a million dollars, Tom. But I wish you all success!” And success is what Tom hoped for as the craft rose from the ground on this, its first official trip. “Well, Tom, she’s moving!” exclaimed Ned, as they rose higher and higher on a long slant off the landing field and headed toward the west. “Yes, we got off in good shape,” agreed Tom, as he noted various instruments and gages on the walls of the car which indicated their speed upward as well as forward and gave their height above the earth. “It certainly is fine,” asserted Mr. Damon. “Bless my upper berth! it beats traveling in a Pullman. And if you can do as you say, Tom, and keep us in this car right through to the end of the journey in San Francisco, it will be a marvel. No change, nothing to worry about, and traveling as clean as in a bath tub! It’s great! Bless my toothbrush, it’s great!” “I wouldn’t go so far as to say there was nothing to worry about,” remarked Tom, with a laugh, as he signaled to the mechanician for more speed. “What do you mean—that letter the kid gave you?” asked Ned, in a low voice. “No, I haven’t looked at that yet. Probably it’s from some one who begged for a free ride,” Tom answered. “But I mean the race isn’t over until we have sighted the Golden Gate. We’ve got to be there before dark to make a success of this airline express, and we’ve got to travel pretty fast—averaging two hundred miles an hour for over fifteen hours. I hope we can do it, but I haven’t given up worrying lest we fail.” “Oh, we’ll do it all right!” declared Mr. Damon.