Captain Harkins’ announcement that the Goliath would make its first long test flight the next morning meant hours of work ahead for Andy but the assistant pilot of the airship threw himself into the task with his usual unfailing energy. He had able assistants in Serge and Bert.

The visit to Washington was to be a complete surprise and every effort was made to keep the news from getting out from Bellevue. If all went well the first intimation the capital would have of the visit of the new sky king would be when the rising sun silvered the nose of the Goliath with its rays.

Andy received detailed reports from each of the engine rooms on the performance during the trip over the field and found them highly satisfactory. Fuel consumption had been less than he had anticipated. Supplies for the flight the next day must be ordered and placed aboard for breakfast and lunch would be served to the army officers and to the members of the crew. Serge volunteered to attend to that task while Bert kept his radio busy getting the latest weather reports. He asked the Washington bureau for a special report at two o’clock the next morning and Washington came back with:

“What’s up? Are you chaps going to make a trial flight at that hour of the night?”

Bert refused to give the curious operators at Washington any information but secured the promise that he could have a special meteorological report at the desired hour.

Preparations for the flight were completed by early evening and members of the crew were ordered to bed by nine o’clock. They would be aroused shortly after two if the weather report at that hour was favorable for their plans.

At eight that night the three young friends gathered in Bert’s radio shack to talk with Harry, now well out to sea in the Neptune. They picked up Harry’s signal on time to the minute and learned that the Neptune had been having a bad time of it.

“I’ve been sick most of the day,” said Harry miserably. “The sea got mighty choppy this morning and we’ve been tossed all over the inside of this tin fish. The air’s bad, too, and it’s been so rough we couldn’t have eaten much if we had felt like it.”

“That’s too bad,” replied Bert, “but it’s just what you get for gallivanting around the world in a cast-iron cigar.”

“When is the Goliath going to test its wings?” asked Harry.

“Can’t tell you,” replied Andy, who had picked up the microphone.

“You mean you won’t tell me,” said Harry.

“I guess that’s it,” admitted Andy, “but the first long flight is supposed to be a surprise trip and if I told you where and when we were going to take the air someone with a low wave set might pick it up and the newspapers would spread it all over their front pages.”

“I get you,” replied Harry. “When shall I come on the air again.”

Andy turned to Bert, cutting off the mike temporarily.

“We ought to be over Washington around six o’clock,” he said. “How about having Harry tune in then and we’ll talk to him while we’re circling over the capital?”

“Fine idea,” replied Bert enthusiastically. “Make it six o’clock and I’ll make a note of it now and put it on my instrument board on the Goliath. If I don’t I may get so excited I’ll forget to call Harry and he’ll be sitting around out there in the ocean wondering what has happened.”

Andy cut in the mike again.

“Turn on your juice tomorrow morning at six o’clock, eastern standard time,” he told Harry. “I’m going to sign off now. We’re rolling out early in the morning and I need a little ‘shut-eye’.”

Andy, accompanied by Bert and Serge, made a final inspection of the Goliath. Everything was in readiness for the early morning flight. They returned to their rooms at the hotel but sleep was a long time in coming for Andy. He had worked so many long months over the plans and on the actual construction of the Goliath that their realization had seemed, until now, an almost unattainable dream. But now the Goliath was ready to claim its place as the king of all the man-made crafts which cruised the heavens for only that afternoon the great dirigible had tested its wings and found them strong and reliable. On the morrow it would sail away into the eastern sky on its first long trip.

Andy finally fell asleep but in his ears was the steady beat of the Goliath’s engines, the sweetest music of all to him.

Bert had left a call at the hotel desk for 1:45 o’clock and he was at his receiving set promptly at two for the special meteorological report from Washington.

The report promised fair weather with a light west wind and an unlimited ceiling.

Bert copied the report in triplicate, placed one copy in his own files for a record and hastened back to the hotel with the other two. He awakened Andy and read the report to the assistant pilot.

“That means we sail at three,” said Andy, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and hurriedly got into his clothes.

“I’ll go wake Dad and Captain Harkins,” he added.

“Here’s a copy of the report for them,” said Bert as he handed Andy the third tissue he had made.

Andy awakened his father and the commander of the Goliath and they agreed that weather conditions were ideal for the flight to Washington.

By two-thirty the hangar was ablaze with light as the members of the crew, their eyes still heavy with sleep, hurried to their posts. Motors were given a final going over, rigging was thoroughly checked, the water ballasts tanks and the water condenser at the top of the big bag were inspected. Finally the Goliath was pronounced ready to go.

At two forty-five the big doors at the end of the hangar started to roll back on their tracks and Andy, from his post in the control room, could hear the roar of engines as the army pilots, assigned to fly with the Goliath on any of its longer trips, warmed up their craft. Four of the army planes under the command of Lieutenant Crummit would accompany the Goliath on the trip to Washington.

The air corps board which was to pass on the performance of the dirigible climbed aboard. Captain Harkins took his place at the main control station and Andy’s whistle shrilled for the ground crew to take hold.

The whistle sounded again and the tractor-truck with the portable mooring mast lurched into motion and the Goliath moved slowly ahead. The big ship was walked out into the soft moonlight, which bathed it with its radiance.

Andy gave a general order for the 12 engine rooms to stand by. Then followed the order to start the engines and the night was broken by the subdued roar of the powerful motors.

“All lights out except the riding lights,” said Captain Harkins and Andy turned to the bank of switches to carry out the command. Only the shaded lights over the instruments in the control room and those in the engine rooms were left on.

Down the field Andy could see the sputtering stream of fire from the exhausts of the four army planes which were to escort them on the flight to Washington. They would take off as soon as the Goliath was clear of the field.

Reports checked back to Andy from the engine rooms indicated that every motor was functioning perfectly and Andy relayed the report on to Captain Harkins.

Bert, who had kept tuned in on Washington, hurried into the control room, a hastily penciled message in his hand.

Captain Harkins took the message, held it down under one of the shaded lights, and read it aloud so that everyone in the control room could hear.

“Weather from Kentucky east to Atlantic seaboard fair; light west wind; unlimited visibility.”

“The weather reports continues favorable,” said Captain Harkins. Then, turning to Andy, he said:

“Give the signal for the ground crew to let go.”

Andy stepped to the open window. In the moonlight below he could see the line of workmen stretched back into the shadows under the great hulk. His whistle shrilled the release signal. The ground crew let go their hold on the great gas bag and at the same moment the operator of the mooring mast released the automatic coupling.

There was only the slightest tremble as the Goliath started upward. The ground dropped silently away. Below Andy could see the streaks of flame from the exhausts of the fast army planes. A few lights glowed in Bellevue itself but the rest of the country seemed asleep. The Goliath rose to a level with the hills which enclosed the valley and drifted steadily upward, the beat of its engines muffled by the interior engine room as the powerful motors waited for the command to start driving the dirigible through the air.

“Tell the engine rooms to stand by,” said Captain Harkins. A moment later Andy got the command of slow speed ahead and he felt the Goliath gather itself for the trip through the night. The big ship felt steadier with the power on and he leaned from his window to listen to the steady monotone of the muffled exhausts.

Lights of the field drifted out of sight and they slipped over the hills on the start of their surprise visit to Washington. Gradually the speed was stepped up. Forty, fifty, sixty miles an hour they pushed their way through the moonlit sky, soaring through the heavens. The altimeter showed a steady climb and Captain Harkins kept the nose of the Goliath up until they had reached the ten thousand foot level. At that height the muffled sound of the airship’s engines could not be heard on the ground and it was doubtful if anyone would see the great silver craft slipping through the sky.

The army planes caught up with them, circled around once or twice, and then climbed five thousand feet above the Goliath, riding the high heavens in unceasing vigilance.

Bert came into the control room again and spoke to Captain Harkins.

“Washington wants to know what’s up,” said Bert. “What shall I tell them?”

Captain Harkins looked at his watch. It was three-thirty.

“Tell them they’ll have a surprise for breakfast,” he said, and Bert returned to his radio cubicle to dispatch the message.

The army inspectors were busy going over the Goliath, checking every detail of the airship’s operation, rate of climb, maneuverability, speed, engine performance, fuel consumption and the hundred and one specifications which Uncle Sam had decided must be met by the Goliath before it would be acceptable and the remainder of the federal appropriation paid to the National Airways.

With the engines thoroughly warmed to their task. Captain Harkins increased the speed until the Goliath was racing along at an even 100 miles an hour. There was no sense of motion or undue speed; only the ground slipping away beneath in an ever-changing pattern of lights and shadows. Occasionally the streaking lights of a train would be visible or a larger town could cast its reflection upward, but Captain Harkins shifted his course to avoid the larger cities. Some enterprising newspaperman might catch the muffled beat of the engines and take the surprise element out of their visit to the capital.

Andy checked their position on the map and stepped over to Captain Harkins.

“We’ll be over Washington about five-thirty if we maintain our present rate of speed,” he said.

“That’s too early,” replied the commander. “Order the engines down to half speed. We can speed up later if we find we’re a little behind.”

Andy phoned the order to the engine rooms and the Goliath slowed down to a steady fifty miles an hour, with the distance slipping off its silvered sides like magic miles.

The assistant pilot got permission to leave his post and make a tour of inspection. He stopped at Bert’s cubby on his way back into the interior.

“Washington is about crazy with curiosity,” grinned Bert, who had a headset on, “He knows we’ve left the field because our signals are stronger but he doesn’t believe we’re on our way east. Bet he stretches his neck when we arrive.”

“A good many thousand people are going to have Stiff necks before the day’s over,” smiled Andy. “See you later. I’m going to make a swing around this big weiner.”

All lights in the main gondola, except those in the control and radio rooms were out, but enough moonlight came through the windows of the promenade deck for Andy to see his way clearly back to the main catwalk in the interior. The catwalk was well lighted and he passed along under the towering gas cells, filled with the precious helium. The stress and strain meters showed that the duralumin framework was reacting even more favorably than they had dared hope to under the test of actual flight.

Andy continued on until he was in the middle of the ship where the great cargo hold was located. It yawned an empty, dimly lighted space. In the fore part were the quarters for the members of the crew and officers and Andy stepped into the tiny cabin he shared with Bert. The night had been raw when he started and he had put on an extra jacket of heavy brown suede but it was not needed now for with their approach to the eastern seaboard the temperature was climbing steadily.

After leaving his cabin, Andy ran up one of the ladders which led to the top of the dirigible and its observation cockpits. He saw the shadow of someone ahead of him and discovered that Serge, who had been making a trip through the interior, could not resist the temptation and had also gone up top.

“You Americans should be very proud of the Goliath,” said Serge. “I have never dreamed of anything so complete. It is a Pullman of the air; every comfort thought of and anticipated.”

“The thing that pleases me,” said Andy, “is that the ship is so far exceeding every specification set for it. The army men haven’t said very much but I can tell that they are highly pleased.”

They remained up top for ten of fifteen minutes as the new king of the skies slid through its domain. The sky was reddening in the east with the approach of the new day. The mountains were in the west, smeared with the sullen shadows of a night which seemed reluctant to leave. Before them stretched the smoother country of Virginia.

“We’re climbing again,” said Andy. “Captain Harkins must be going up so high we won’t be heard or seen on the ground.”

The army planes, faithful guardians through the night, circled far overhead.

“I don’t envy those chaps,” grinned Serge. “We are moving so slowly they must find it hard to stay anywhere near us. Lieutenant Crummit told me their low cruising speed was 100 miles an hour. Look how they zig-zag back and forth.”

“They’ll leave us when we get over Washington and drop down on Bolling field to refuel,” said Andy. “By the time we get back to Bellevue they’ll be pretty much all in. Handling one of those delicate pursuit ships for eight or ten hours is no picnic.”

The red disk of the sun popped into view and Andy and Serge left the observation cockpit and returned to the control room. Captain Harkins had hardly moved since leaving Bellevue but now he turned the main controls over to Andy.

“The course is north, northeast,” he said. “Hold her as she is and at 12,000 feet.”

“North by northeast,” replied Andy, “and at 12,000 feet. Yes sir.”

The steward had been busy for the last hour and a hot breakfast was served to the army observers and officers of the dirigible in the main dining salon while the crew had its breakfast in the dining room midships.

Bert brought Andy a cup of coffee and a sandwich but the assistant pilot was too interested in the way the Goliath handled to think of asking for relief so he could go back and have the hot cereal, toast and jam that the others enjoyed.

He was master of their dirigible, the king of the skies, the greatest airship ever built by man! Andy’s hands firmly grasped the wheels which controlled the elevators and the rudder. The Goliath responded easily and he swung it a point or two off course to see just how it handled.

Captain Harkins returned from breakfast while Andy was bringing the Goliath back on course.

“Experimenting a little to see how the big boy handles?” asked the commander.

“I couldn’t resist,” replied Andy.

“I know how you feel,” smiled Captain Harkins. “I did a little of it myself while we were over the mountains.” He turned to Serge.

“Step up here and take control,” he told the young Rubanian, whose mission had once been the destruction of the craft in which they now rode in comfort and security.

Serge smiled gratefully as he accepted Captain Harkins’ invitation. It had been months since he had stood at the controls of a dirigible. The last time had been early in the winter when he had guided one of the large Blenkkos over Kratz, the capital of Rubania. The day following that trip he had been ordered into the Gerka and then put on the long distance planes, with the result that he was now in the United States, a member of the crew of the Goliath. It all seemed like a vague dream, his long flight across the ocean, his acceptance at Bellevue as a civilian observer from Friedrichshafen and the final discovery of his identity by Andy and the downfall of Alex Reikoff, dictator of Rubania. Within the hour he would soar over Washington, the capital of the United States, and he felt his body glow with the happiness and contentment that was his.

Captain Harkins checked the position of the Goliath and ordered a slight increase in speed. The sun cleared away the morning m............