outside. As they were doing so, Mr. Giddings and Bob
joined them. The publisher had planned to accompany his crew to Panama
in the machine, to see them officially off, while his reporters made
the journey by train, in company with the writing force of the rival
paper.

"We'll keep the time of our going secret, leaving before people are
generally up," Mr. Giddings had said to the boys; "and by going on the
16th we'll not only be ahead of their smart calculations, but we shall
have about half a week to rest up and see the country down there before
you begin your strenuous journey. I need a little vacation anyway, so
I will accompany you. We will stop off at Miami on the way, and enjoy
some big-game fishing in the Florida waters with some of my friends."

So the young men were very much excited and eager to be off this
morning of the 16th, you may be sure. The Sky-Bird was tuned up a
little to make certain she was in first-class condition, then they all
climbed in and the big glistening creature of wood, metal, and silk
shot up into the air. It would probably be close to three weeks before
they would see that familiar field and hangar again, and in that time
if all went well they would circle the huge globe upon which they and
their fellow-men lived. It was truly a most inspiring thought--one to
have filled less phlegmatic blood than theirs with the wildest
pulsations!

The weather was not at all promising, masses of gray nimbus-cloud
threatening to shut out the sun as it arose, with a promise of
uncertain winds, if not rain; but John and Tom declared the conditions
all the better for giving the machine a good test-out.

They climbed slowly upward through the cheerless, mist-laden skies, the
engine well throttled back and running as smoothly as any engine could.
To make sure that all was in perfect working order, they circled for
ten minutes over the town, trying the different controls, then turned
the Sky-Bird southward.

At two thousand feet they suddenly emerged from the fog belt into
brilliant sunshine, but the world below was lost to sight, screened by
a dense pall of mist. Accordingly, Tom Meeks, who was acting as pilot,
set a compass course for Cape Hatteras, the first guide-post along the
Atlantic coast, some five hundred miles distant. After an hour's
steady running, John took the throttle, followed later by Bob, and
finally Paul. It was a new sensation to the last-named youths to be
piloting the