"We'll beat them out yet. The bunch of sneaks, and it's my opinion that
Mortlake himself knows all about who robbed that safe!" cried Jimsy, not
taking the trouble to sink his voice.

He faced defiantly about and caught Mortlake's eye. It was instantly
averted, and catching Fanning by the arm he hastened from the courtroom.

"I wonder what mischief those young cubs are hatching up now?" he said, as
the two hastened off, bending their steps toward old Mr. Harding's bank.

"It doesn't make much difference," chuckled Fanning, "we've got that
contract nailed down and delivered now."

CHAPTER XIX.

THE GATHERING OF THE MAN-BIRDS.

The aeroplanes--a dozen in all, that had been selected by various naval
"sharps" from all over the widely distributed portions of the country for
the weeding out of the best type--were quartered in a broad meadow not far
from the town of Hampton. The locality had been chosen as removed from the
reach of the ordinary run of curiosity seekers, who had flocked from all
parts of the country to be present at the first tests of aeroplanes as
actual naval adjuncts.

Sheds had been provided for the accommodation of each type. And above each
shed was the name of the aeroplane it housed, printed in small letters.
One of the first things that Mortlake and Fanning Harding proceeded to do
on their arrival at this "bivouac" was to make a tour of the row of sheds
in search of the Prescott machine. But to their joy, apparently, no shed
housed it.

There were machines of dozens of other types, monoplanes, bi-planes,
machines of the helicopter type, and a few devices based on the parachute
principle. But no Prescott. The names the various machines bore were
weird: The _Sky Pilot_, the _Cloud Chaser_, the _Star Bug_, the _Moon
Mounter_, the _Aerial Auto_, the _Heavenly Harvester_, and some titles
even more far-fetched graced the sheds, so that it was small wonder that
in this maze of high-sounding names a shed at the far end of the row
bearing the obscure title of Nameless missed the scrutiny of Mortlake and
his aide.

"We've beaten them to a standstill this time," said Mortlake with intense
conviction, "I feel that the _Motor Hornet_ has the contest cinched."

The _Motor Hornet_ was the name that had been bestowed on the machine
which Roy had poetically dubbed the _Silver Cobweb_.

The shed of the mysterious Nameless was the only one of the long row that
did not buzz with activity all that day, w