his sweet self. I suppose he wrote that just to make himself disagreeable.”
“Moreover, he knows in some mysterious way that we have the first option on the Joyce gyroscope,” put in Harry, “and maybe he wouldn’t give his eyes to get it for the principal Planet contestant.”
“He’s certainly shown that,” said Frank. “I’ve heard of the Slade machine, and it is reputed to be a wonder. In whatever way Reade heard that we had the gyroscope, there is little doubt that he realizes that fitted with it the Slade plane might win the race.”
“And there’s another reason,” burst out Billy Barnes. “You see now that the two papers have agreed to run the race off together it eliminates the two prizes, and according to the conditions both will be massed and awarded to the winner.”
“Well?” questioned Frank.
“Well,” repeated Billy, continuing, “this means that if Reade has been backing Slade to win the Despatch contest, and there is little doubt he has – now that the two contests are massed if Slade has a better man on the Planet’s list pitted against him the Planet man may win, and then Reade gets nothing.”
“You mean that Slade was almost certain to win the Despatch’s race – that the $50,000 was as good as won with the class of contestants he had against him before the two offers were massed?” asked Frank.
Billy nodded. “And that now, for all they know, the Planet may have some dark horse who will beat Slade and get the combined prize?”
“Precisely, as Ben Stubbs would say,” laughed Billy.
“It would serve them right for the mean trick they tried to play on us by attempting to steal the gyroscope plans if we were to enter in the race at the last moment and be the Planet’s dark horses.” mused Frank.
“Oh, Frank, do you mean that?” shouted Billy.
“I haven’t said I mean anything, you wild man,” laughed Frank, “but inasmuch as my father was talking of going to Los Angeles – you know he has some orange groves out there – I’ve been thinking that we might combine business with pleasure and take a trip to California by aeroplane.”
“Then you’ll do it,” eagerly demanded Billy. As for Harry, he was so entranced at the idea that he was capering about the room like an Indian.
“I think that it is almost certain that we will not,” teased Frank.
“Not what?” groaned Billy.
“Not be able to resist the temptation of going.”
At this point a maid entered the room with a telegram.
“This is for you,” she said, holding it out to Frank.
Frank tore it open and his face flushed angrily as he read its contents. He handed it to the others. The message was not signed, but even so the boys all guessed who it was from.
“You got away from us by a neat trick last night,” it read, “but puppies like you cannot balk us. Men are in this race, not boys, so keep your hands off it.”
“I suppose he means by that, as we are not contestants, we have no right to interfere with their attempts to steal the gyroscope attachment for themselves,” exclaimed Frank. “That’s a fine line of reasoning.”
“That telegram ought to decide us,” burst out Harry.
“It certainly ought to,” chimed in Billy.
At that minute the Chester boys’ father entered the room.
“What are you boys all so excited about?” he asked.
“What would you say if we joined you in Los Angeles?” asked Frank.
“What do you mean? I don’t quite understand,” said Mr. Chester, puzzled in spite of himself, though he knew the boys’ sudden determination to have adventures and suspected that something of the kind was in the wind now.
“If we flew to California, for instance,” said Frank.
“Flew there,” repeated Mr. Chester. “My dear boy, how could you do that?”
“In the Golden Eagle, of course,” exclaimed Harry.
“But – but what for?” questioned the amazed Mr. Chester.
“For a hundred thousand dollars,” put in Billy.
“You mean for that newspaper prize?”
The boys nodded.
“I don’t like the idea of your entering a contest of that character,” said Mr. Chester; “there is a great deal of danger, too.”
“No more than we have been through,” remonstrated Frank; “besides, think of the experience. Why, we would fly over a dozen states.”
“A dozen – fifty, at least,” cried Billy, with a fine disregard for geography.
“But how would you go? How long would it take you?” demanded their father.
“I haven’t figured out just the time we would consume,” said Frank, “but I have a rough idea of our route. The object, of course, would be to avoid any big mountain chains, although if we have our Joyce automatic adjuster I think we could manage even those cross currents with ease. But this is to be a race and we want to get there first. The newspaper route is from here to Pittsburg, from there to Nashville, crossing the Ohio and Cumberland rivers, thence, due west almost, across the northern part of Arkansas, Oklahoma, the Texas Panhandle, New Mexico, Arizona and then across California to San Francisco.”
“Hurrah,” cried Billy, his eyes shining. “Indians, cowboys, gold mines and oranges.”
When the laugh at the jumbled series of images the mention of the different states Frank had enumerated aroused in Billy’s mind had died down Mr. Chester wanted to know how the boys were going to carry their supplies.
“Well,” said Frank, “as you are going to California and leaving the car behind we thought that perhaps you wouldn’t mind letting us use it. We will be very careful – ”
“Oh, very,” repeated Harry.
“Most,” supplemented Billy.
Mr. Chester laughed.
“I never saw such boys,” he said, “but even supposing you had the automobile – I say supposing you had it, could you carry enough supplies in it for the aeroplane?”
“I am sure we could,” Frank asserted. “You see, automobiles are in such general use nowadays that it would only be in the desolate parts of the western states that we should have to carry a large supply of gasolene. Almost every village nowadays has it in stock.”
“You seem to have the whole thing thought out,” laughed Mr. Chester.
“It will be the trip of a lifetime,” shouted Harry.
“Well, I shall have to consult with your mother,” was Mr. Chester’s dictum.
Mrs.
