are always going off on dangerous trips. I do wish you’d spend a little time at home,” she said.
But the boys assured her they would be very careful and would keep constantly in touch with their parents by telegraph and not take any unwarranted risks.
“Well, I suppose I shall have to yield,” said Mrs. Chester at length.
“Hurrah!” cried the boys.
And thus it came about that one week before the big race across the continent was due to start the names of the Chester Boys were enrolled on the Planet’s lists as contestants.
CHAPTER VI.
OFF FOR SAN FRANCISCO
The final touches had been put on the Golden Eagle and she had been transported to Governor’s Island off the Battery four days later. The start for the great transcontinental race was to be made from the flats at the southern end of the reservation. The boys discovered that as the day of the race drew nearer that the list of entrants had narrowed down to three. There was their own aeroplane, the Slade entry of the Despatch, and a big dirigible which had also been entered by the Despatch. This left them the sole representative of the Planet. Of the large number of original entrants, some of them had become discouraged. Others’ machines had been broken in practice and still others were convinced, as the starting day drew near, that it would be impracticable to make the long flight.
“Well, the contest is certainly narrowed down,” commented Frank one day while they were all seated in front of their shed watching the Despatch’s plane alight from a flight it had taken above the Jersey meadows.
“I’m glad of it,” said Harry; “the fewer there are in the race the easier it will be to avoid collisions and accidents.”
After his attempt to steal the plans of Mr. Joyce’s gyroscopic balancer the boys heard no more of Fred Reade in a hostile way. Of course, they did not speak, and Reade cast black looks at them as he came and went on his frequent visits to the aerodrome of Arthur Slade. However, his active antagonism seemed to have ceased. Probably he was too busy arranging the final details of the start to be able to spare the time to make himself unpleasant.
The big dirigible, a red painted affair with a crimson gas bag, was also housed on the island. So great was public interest that the little Government steamer that brought visitors over from the mainland was crowded down to her guards with the curious who had obtained passes to see the racing machines.
For her dash overland the Golden Eagle had been equipped with her wireless. An outfit of Frank’s invention had also been installed in the automobile which was to carry old Mr. Joyce, Lathrop Beasley and Billy Barnes. Lathrop was an expert operator and the boys hoped to be able to keep in constant touch with each other by means of the apparatus. Mr. Joyce, it had been agreed, was to accompany the expedition as mechanic. His skilled knowledge of aeroplane engines and construction was expected to prove invaluable in case of the breakdowns which the boys knew they must expect on such a voyage.
At last the night came when the red flag with a white ball in the center, which meant the racing ships would start the next day, was run up on the tall flagstaff at the army post. The boys could hardly sleep for excitement and lay awake till late talking over final details. It was agreed that the auto was to “pick up” the aeroplane as it flew over Jersey City. From that time on they would keep in touch by wireless or telegraph all the way across the country, the auto carrying extra supplies, machinery parts and gasolene.
The Despatch’s aeroplane was also to be followed by an auto in which Fred Reade was to be a passenger, as was also the red-bearded man whose identity was a mystery to the boys. The red dirigible drivers, not being able to afford an auto, had had to depend on luck for gasoline and other supplies en route, although they could carry a good load.
The day of the start dawned fair and still. The bay lay an unruffled sheet of gray water. The flag drooped on its flagstaff. It was ideal flying weather. All the aviators on the island were up early and working over their machines. There were joints to be tightened, stay wires to be carefully inspected, oiling devices to adjust and engines to be turned. This work was impeded a lot by the inquisitive crowds who began to arrive on the first boat.
A detachment of soldiers was finally set to work roping off a space in which, as the time for the start drew near, the air ships were “parked.” This relieved the situation and the boys could work unhampered. Billy Barnes, Lathrop and Mr. Joyce started for Jersey early.
“Good luck!” shouted the boys, as they rolled on to the boat in their big auto.
“So long, see you after dinner,” cried Billy with a merry wave of the hand.
The boys’ parents, relatives and groups of their school friends had come over to see them off, and when the hard and dirty work was finished the boys had their hands full explaining to their young friends all about the Golden Eagle.
At last the bugle that announced that it was half an hour before starting time sounded. An electric wave of enthusiasm ran through the crowd. Over in the city windows of skyscrapers began to fill with men and women anxious to watch the contestants shoot into the air. On ferry boats and roofs all along the water front thousands of eyes were watching.
“Are you all ready?”
It was General Stanton, commander of the Department of the East, who had consented to start the race, who spoke.
“Yes,” came in a shout from the aviators.
The dirigible men began to cast off ropes and the aeroplanes were dropped into position. A squad of men drove back the pressing crowds, and the boys, after kissing their parents and bidding farewell to their relatives and friends, took their seats in the Golden Eagle’s chassis.
There was a mighty roar and blue flames and smoke spouted from the engine exhausts as the motors were started. Men, with their heels dug into the sandy ground to avoid slipping, held back the struggling planes. The dirigible swayed and tugged at her resting ropes like an impatient horse.
“Bang!”
It was the starting gun at last.
“Hurrah!” roared the crowd.
“They’re off!” shouted everybody, as if there could be any doubt of it.
Like mighty birds the two aeroplanes swept swiftly forward a few yards over the level ground and then headed out far above the river toward the Jersey shore. The big dirigible, its engine droning like an enormous scarab beetle, followed, keeping well up with the speedy winged craft.
From thousands of windows, banked with white faces, handkerchiefs and flags waved and from the roofs of the office buildings housing the Planet and Despatch plants bombs were exploded at regular intervals to spread the news broadcast that the race had begun. In the offices of the evening papers the great presses were already rushing out “Extras” telling of the start. Soon newsboys in the canyon-like streets of lower New York would be crying their wares.
Every pilot of every boat on the river pulled his whistle cord and tied it down as the air craft swept far above. The uproar was literally ear-splitting. Owing to the roar of their engines, however, the aviators heard little of the turmoil which they caused.
In a few minutes Jersey City, which had gone just as airship mad as New York, was reached. On swept the high-flying craft above its crowded roofs and bellowing factory whistles. Far beneath them they could
