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Moved by politeness they asked the young man if he would care to have a look at the airship. While Norman explained something about himself and his companion the three young men made their way back to the aerodrome. Before they reached it he had related their own small adventures. Then young Zept had made them further acquainted with himself.
I don't know what it brought him, and maybe you don't. But I reckon you can easily find out by going through a list of bank directors in this town." "He's a millionaire anyway," Roy exclaimed with some lack of diplomacy. Mr. Zept did not seem conscious of this remark, for he sat very stern and hard of face. "When the time comes, my boy, I will take you into this region that you are so full of.
This remark was made because the Count, while showing a polite interest in the Gitchie Manitou, had not bubbled over with exuberance. The boys felt somewhat chagrined over this lack of enthusiasm until they recalled that to young Zept an airship was an old story, the young man having witnessed many flights by the most improved French monoplanes.
A little later, having visited the post office, Norman and Roy came out just in time to see young Zept whirling his exhausted mount into a livery stable. When the boys reached this, they found the proprietor, who from his sign was a Frenchman, and Paul in a heated argument.
"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Norman. "Everyone knows Mr. Zept. He's the big man in this show. I'm glad to know you. I am Norman Grant and my friend here is Roy Moulton." "Oh, you're the fellows who are going to give the airship show," responded the young man with a marked interest. "I am glad to meet you. I'm Paul Zept. I'm just through school in Paris. I've been living with my grandfather.
Count Zept, his hat in his hand and the cool river wind paling his flushed face, had mounted to the top of the cargo and was singing something he had learned in far away lands. The fascinating tenor of his voice carried far over the river. Even out of the hidden heights on the far side of the current, the strains of the song came back with a melancholy pathos.
If Colonel Howell saw these things, nothing about him indicated it. Having divested himself of his coat, he put himself at once in charge of the party, and was full of animation. Within a few moments young Zept left the stateroom, without protest from his father, and the two boys partly lost themselves in a close view of the country through which they were passing.
"I'm ready now," came the quick response. A moment later the Zept motor was on its way home. It had been an eventful day for the millionaire ranchman and his son Paul, as well as for Norman Grant and Roy Moulton, to whom it had opened up possibilities that they could scarcely yet realize.
"Must have had a pretty easy job, with nothing to do but punish your provisions all winter," suggested Mr. Zept. "Don't you think it," exclaimed his friend. "They had plenty of work cut out for them. In the first place they had to build a cabin, and they had the tools to make a decent one tar paper for a roof too. I don't care for bark shacks.
"And he'd like us to put in a few knocks but I reckon that'll be some job. As far as I can see, it's young fellows like Zept who turn these hardships into glories. I've heard of kids like him who are really at home where there's no trail and whose idea of luxury is a canoe and a blanket and a piece of pork."
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