ings to munch at as they walked along; and
promised to send word to a certain address which the aeronaut gave them;
and in fact Paul was to notify a committee by wire that disaster had
overtaken the _Great Republic_, but that the aeronaut was safe, and
wished the news to be communicated to his wife at a certain hotel in St.
Louis.

Of course all of the boys knew what the new hope that had come to Paul
amounted to. He had, with his customary carefulness, shown them in black
and white figures just the number of miles that still remained
uncovered, about eighteen in all, and then they figured out when the sun
would be setting at Beverly.

"Six full hours, and then some," Seth had declared, with a look of
contempt; as though he could see no reason why they should not come in
on time easily. "Why, of course we c'n do it, and then not half try.
Now, you'd think I'd be feeling stiff after that crouching work in the
swamp. All a mistake. Never fitter in my life. I could start on a run
right now, and cover some miles without an effort."

"Well, don't do it, then," advised Paul, "you know what happens to the
racer who makes too big an effort in the start. Get warmed up to your
work, and there's a chance to hold out. Better be in prime condition for
the gruelling finish. That's the advice one of the greatest all-around
athletes gives. So we'll start at a fair pace, and later on, if it
becomes necessary we'll be able to run some."

Of course Paul was thinking while he said this of the weak links in the
chain, no other than Eben and Noodles. The latter was a wretched runner
at best. He could walk fairly well, after a fashion, as his work of the
last three days proved; and by judicious management Paul hoped to coax
Noodles along, mile after mile.

As they walked they munched the sandwiches provided at the farm house
where Mr. Anderson had been left. Thus they killed two birds with one
stone, as Paul put it--continued to cover a couple of precious miles
while securing strength and comfort from the food.

Whenever a chance occurred Noodles would get to work again scraping some
more dirt off his garments. Fritz often declared the county would
prosecute him for leaving so many piles of swamp mud along the pike; but
after each and every operation the stout boy declared that he felt in
far better trim to continue the journey, and that at least pleased all
hands.

"I'm beginning to hope, Noodles," remarked Jotham, "that by the time