The spectators saw the monoplane turn to the east, gradually rising, until it disappeared over the mountains. Not until thirty minutes later did the Loon reappear far in the south. And then it was first distinguished by its searchlight breaking through the evening mist, for night had fallen.

As Lord Pelton sprang out he explained his sensation.

“Strangely enough,” he said, “my first feeling was one of safety. But the peculiar sensation was that of wind all around me; a breeze that seemed to come from nowhere. My face was in a strong breeze that never ceased. In a balloon, you feel as if the earth is dropping below you. In the a?roplane there was the sensation of climbing. The earth did not take on the appearance of a hollow dish with the horizon reaching up like the rim of a bowl. After a few hundred feet all the crudities of the earth[200] were lost. Like the broad effects of a fine painting the land greeted the eye as a picture. I was not frightened.”

“What altitude did you reach?” asked Captain Ludington.

“I meant to stick to the five hundred foot level,” answered Frank, “but Lord Pelton asked me to go higher. We reached the height of fifty-two hundred feet.”

“The sun was sinking behind the next range of mountains,” explained Lord Pelton, “and we kept on going up to keep it in sight. After it was dark in the valley we could have read a newspaper. It was just like stealing daylight—great.”

The boys were pleased because they could see that Lord Pelton’s enthusiasm was having its influence on Mr. Mackworth and Captain Ludington, and they hoped it would have a similar effect on “Grizzly” Hosmer and Sam Skinner.

Hosmer was off with the wagons early the next morning. Sam Skinner, Mr. Mackworth and his guests did not get away until eight o’clock. Jake Green accompanied Hosmer that[201] he might prepare luncheon on the trail. With orders on the principal store of Michel, Nelse and Robert were left in charge of the car. Frank and Phil also remained ready for their flight about five o’clock—after the main party had reached Smith’s ranch.

All morning the boys tinkered on the airship. Into the shaded cabin of the monoplane many visitors were admitted while levers, wheels, instruments and engine parts were explained. At noon Nelse served their luncheon in the airship cabin; cold meats, preserved fruits and iced-tea. And then, succumbing to the drowsy heat, Phil stretched himself on the floor and fell asleep.

An hour later the sleeping boy aroused himself with a start. The Loon was in flight.

“What’s doin’?” he cried in alarm.

“Nothin’, only we’ve started,” was Frank’s rejoinder.

“Started?” exclaimed Phil. “’Tain’t time, is it?”

“No,” answered Frank bending to his work of adjusting the big plane as the clattering monoplane left the ground, “but I got tired.”

[202]

“Who held her?” was Phil’s next question as he scrambled to his feet.

“No one,” replied Frank. “I just gave her a run. She made it all right.”

“You’re crazy,” roared Phil.

Frank laughed and lifted the ship a little higher.

“They ain’t ready for us,” persisted Phil glancing at the receding village. “We can’t keep flyin’ around till night. It’s only a quarter after one,” he exclaimed.

“We ain’t goin’ to fly around at all,” replied Frank as he set the Loon on a flight about four hundred feet from the ground. “We’re goin’ fishin’.”

“Fishin’?” repeated Phil. “You are crazy!”

“Sit down,” answered Frank with a smile, “and I’ll tell you where we are goin’.”

“What’s that?” said Phil who was far from sitting down. “That?” he repeated pointing to the forward end of the cabin.

“That,” answered Frank, “is a present I bought for you. It’s a Michel trout rod, reel, line and a couple of May flies. I tell you we’re[203] goin’ fishin’. What’s the use o’ sleepin’ away an afternoon like this when you know the trout will be fightin’ for flies about four o’clock?”

“Well,” said Phil at last in a dazed tone, “I give up.”

“Now,” said Frank, “you’re talkin’ sense. While you were asleep I strolled over to the store. I began lookin’ over the trout tackle and got to talkin’ ‘fish.’ The clerk was awful strong for Fording River, which is up where we are goin’ to camp to-night. A few miles away the Fording cuts through some hills and east o’ these it’s full o’ trout. But the best fishin’, the clerk said, was beyond a little valley where the Fording comes through a second range o’ hills and tumbles over the rocks makin’ a fine waterfall.”

“And you’re goin’ up there and land on a hill or in a pine forest?” interrupted Phil.

“We’re goin’ there and land in a meadow at the foot o’ the Falls where the grass ain’t high enough to tangle us up and where you’re goin’ to get us a string o’ Cutthroat trout which, accordin’ to the clerk, are the finest fish in the world for looks, fight and flavor.”

[204]

“And what if that meadow ain’t flat and hard enough to land in?” asked Phil, somewhat mollified.

“We’ll just turn around, come back to town, call it a little outing of an hour and let it go at that.”

“You’re crazy,” repeated Phil in a last protest.

“Shall I turn back?” asked Frank suddenly.

“I reckon you might as well go ahead since you’ve started,” Phil answered. “But it’s up to you. Besides,” he added contemptuously, “that’s a rotten lookin’ rod.”

The Loon............