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As they hung on for dear life, Malvoise, his face gleaming white in the glare cast from one of the cabin ports, came up to them. "Do you think you can take the wheel for a while?" he asked Frank. "What with fear and exhaustion Constantio is almost unable to stand up." Frank agreed, and, followed by the others he entered the pilot-house.
"Moreover," went on Malvoise, "I should not advise you to mention Barr's name as the manufacturer of the Buzzards. He has a business deal on in which it is important he should not be known as an aeroplane speculator. If he learns that you are giving his secrets away, he will make it hot for you, I can tell you. You were sent to Bellevue yesterday, were you not?"
"I look to you to make that information worth my while," put in Sanborn's rasping tones. "And I will," cried old Barr, clapping his withered hands together. "You shall be well rewarded, never fear. But now about your purchase in Boston how much did she cost?" "Twelve thousand dollars," was the cool reply of the speaker, whose voice Billy had recognized as being that of Malvoise.
"Well, what do you want, old man?" asked Malvoise sharply. "I want the world to know that the Buzzard is my invention, my design, the child of my brain from her top-plane to her landing wheels;" shrilled the old man, who seemed beside himself with excitement. "Father, do be calm, I beg of you," entreated the young woman.
It was an hour or more before a wagon arrived with the remains of the Buzzard, and Malvoise followed, mud-covered and angry clear through. He cast a malevolent scowl at the boys as he passed their aerodrome, in front of which the crowd still lingered, unable to gaze enough at the victorious Golden Eagle and her young drivers.
"Say, you are an all right mechanic," was Dick Richards' admiring tribute to Frank's skill. By noon the last traces of the hurricane had died out and the dirigible was driving forward over a sparkling sea with a cloudless sky overhead. After breakfast, in which the now resuscitated members of the crew and Constantio took part, Frank called them forward and told them of the fate of Malvoise.
Gladwin, who was an experimenter and who, although he had only been up a few times, meant to compete in the big race, was already busy outside his aerodrome, lovingly adjusting the engine of his queer-looking monoplane which had already been wheeled out. Malvoise, his hands in his pockets and a red sash about his waist, was also studying the sky.
Suddenly, as a sharper puff than usual came, the Buzzard gave a lurch that Malvoise in vain tried to counteract by using his ailerons. These balancing devices are almost automatic in their control, and usually can be depended on to control an airship to keep an even keel, but this time not even Malvoise's skill could save the Buzzard. Down she sped, straight as a plummet, for fully fifty feet.
Even tough old Ben Stubbs felt the baleful effect of the high altitude. "I'll be hornswoggled if I can stand this much longer," he gasped out to Frank. "Can you take the wheel?" replied the young aviator. Ben nodded. "Then take it. I'm going to get this ship down." Frank reeled from the pilot-house on to the deck. He almost stumbled over the body of Malvoise as he did so.
"Well, we might as well have turned back for all the good we can do now," came another voice that of Malvoise. "I'm not going to run a chance of wrecking the ship by making a landing in the dark." "What, you are not going to descend?" came Sanborn's voice in a querulous tone. "Not much," was the rejoinder. "What's the use of risking our necks and taking a chance on smashing up the air-ship.
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