“Hurray, we are in communication with the Tarantula.”

It was Frank who spoke. Seated at the field wireless apparatus, with the metallic headpiece about his ears, he rapidly noted down the reply to the message he had flashed out some time previously. The message was signed:

“Selby,” and read:

“Am standing by, off the coast. Communication perfect. Will keep in touch constantly.”

Frank’s message had been a brief outline of his plans, which were to sail in the Golden Eagle II that afternoon if feasible, and ascertain the exact location of the camp of the formula stealers, and leave the rest of the plan of procedure to such circumstances as might arise.

Feverishly working, the boys and their aides got the Golden Eagle II in shape for flight by noon of that day. Thanks to the specially prepared engine-bed that the boys had had constructed, there was little to do except to bolt the driving machinery in place, after which but little adjustment was necessary to true it up with the shafts. While Harry and Lathrop took up positions at the propellers and the rest of the party hung onto the winged ship with might and main, Frank carefully adjusted the engine, having timed it down to its lowest number of revolutions.

“Now,” he cried when all was ready.

The boys gave the propellers a twist. To their delight the engine worked as smoothly as a sewing machine. The power was then cut off and the work of stocking up the lockers beneath the transoms in the pilot-house begun. It was Frank’s intention that if it became necessary to settle down anywhere for any length of time to use the pilot-house as a camping place. This would save the necessity of a tent and as every ounce of weight counts in an aeroplane this was an important consideration. The canvas screens—of the lightest grade of duck carefully waterproofed—which have been previously mentioned were provided for this very purpose as were also mosquito net curtains for fine weather.

Frank’s navigating instruments found their place in a pocket handy to the steersman’s hand. The compass of course being adjusted in a balanced socket that kept it always visible to the helmsman. The operating keys of the Golden Eagle II’s wireless apparatus were in the rear of the chassis and in the space beneath its stand was coiled the five hundred feet of rope through which ran a strand of phosphor bronze wire which was to be used for grounding the current. Alongside the reserve gasolene found its place.

The searchlight, swinging easily on a pivot, was also of course a part of the helmsman’s equipment, and handy to him was slung his revolver in a big loose holster. The rifles and ammunition and the stock of provisions carried went in the lockers, as well as a waterproof sod-cloth to place beneath the chassis if camping on wet ground, and a small blue-flame oil-stove made of aluminum. The few cooking utensils carried were also of aluminum and nested. The last thing to go aboard was a folding canvas boat of which more later.

All these preparations concluded, the boys partook of the last dinner they were to eat in company for perhaps several days. Over the meal, which Pork Chops had made quite an elaborate one in celebration of the occasion, final plans were discussed. Lathrop was to have charge of the wireless apparatus and at all hours of the day or night either he, Ben Stubbs or Billy Barnes was to be on duty beside it on the watch for calls. The boys would also, it was agreed, watch their apparatus constantly. Frank’s ingenuity had provided each machine with an appliance, not unlike the ordinary telephone bell, which commenced ringing loudly as soon as any other instrument within range got “in tune.” This was a patentable improvement, as an ordinary wireless machine has no such convenient attachment and only apprises its operator of a call by a faint click hardly audible to the unpracticed ear.

After lunch the boys went over every rod and wire of the aeroplane and found her to be in first class shape. While these preparations were going on Quatty had been eyeing the craft with the liveliest indications of fear.

“Ah’d jes’ as soon ride on de back ob a fish eagle,” he said apprehensively.

“Why, Quatty, you’re not going to back out now, are you?” asked Frank with a smile at the negro’s trepidation.

“Lord, no, Massa Frank, ah said ah’d go wid yo’ an’ I will, but ef it wasn’ fo’ dat rifle I wouldn’ go not fo’ nuffin’. Say,” he added suddenly, “could ye jes’ wait a while till I paddle home an’ say goo’-bye to my wife?”

“No, we can’t,” laughed Frank, ruthlessly cutting short the black’s hope of even a moment’s reprieve from going aloft in the object of his terror.

“Are we all ready, Harry?” he asked the next minute.

The younger boy nodded.

“Hold on a minute,” cried Frank suddenly, “there is one thing we’ve forgotten.”

He ran back into the hut and reappeared with a small object he had fished out of his toilet-bag.

It was a silken American flag. The boys attached it to a small pair of halyards at the stern of the chassis and ran it up.

“Come on in with you, Quatty,” cried Harry, when this was completed.

Speechless with terror the negro hobbled up to the machine and hesitatingly clambered into the chassis. He sat quivering like a jelly on the floor of the pilot-house as the boys followed him.

“What are you squatting on the floor for?” asked Harry, laughing, “don’t you want to see the scenery?”

“Ah can see all ah wan’ right yar,” was the terrified darky’s reply.

With a final handclasp the boys followed the negro into the chassis and Harry took up his place at the engines and Frank got into the steerman’s narrow seat. Lathrop and Billy Barnes were at the propellers ready to give them the twist that would start the machinery.

“Let her go,” cried Frank with a backward glance. Harry bent low over the carburettor and carefully adjusted it and the lubricating system.

The next minute, with a roar like that of a dozen Gatling guns, the engine started up. Volumes of blue smoke poured from the exhaust which also shot out jets of ruddy flame. To anyone not used to the racket of a powerful engine suddenly turned up to its full power it was actually terrifying. Quatty writhed in a paroxysm of terror on the quivering floor of the pilot-house as the whole fabric of the aeroplane shook as if it had been convulsed by an earthquake.

Like a big ungainly bird it ran rapidly over the ground for a few dozen yards and then as it gathered speed under its rapidly revolving propellers, Frank threw in the top speed clutch and jerked back the lever that controlled the rising planes. Like a perfectly trained animal the big air-craft obeyed and rose as gracefully as a butterfly into the air. For fully ten minutes, till they were clear of the tree-tops, Frank kept her rising—the terrified Quatty rolling about on the inclined floor of the pilot-house like a rubber ball. Then as she soared safely above all obstructions he threw her onto an even keel and headed her due east.

Far below them Harry, leaning over the stern, could see the small clearing in which stood the dead sailor’s habitation and the rapidly diminishing figures of Lathrop, Billy, Ben, and Pork Chops waving a frantic adieu. The darky had in his hand a frying-pan which he flourished and was evidently shouting, for he had his hand at his lips, but of course anything he might have said was at that height inaudible.

Once on an even keel Frank threw in the mufflers and throttled the engine down a little so that the uproar that had so terrified Quatty was diminished. Occasionally as she struck some contrary air-current the aeroplane would give a dip that terrified the negro into fresh convulsions, but otherwise the really alarming sensation that accompanies the rising into the upper air of an aeroplane had ceased and they were driving ahead calmly enough, though not fast, for there was a stiff northeast wind blowing.

“Well, Quatty, what do you think of it as far as you’ve gone?” jestingly asked Harry as, having adjusted his engines to suit him he sat wiping his hands on a bit of greasy waste.

“Ah’s jes’ as soon ride on a buckin’ broncho as on dis yar contraption,” rejoined Quatty, who had by this time scrambled to his hands and knees, “it’s eben worser dan I thought.”

A diplomatic idea entered Harry’s head. They would have to get Quatty over his scare before he would be of any use to them and this necessity gave rise to Harry’s inspiration.

“Well, I think you are a very brave man, Quatty,” he said solemnly; “that Pork Chops is such a coward that he wouldn’t dare to do what you’ve done.”

“Is dat so, Massa Harry, fo’ a fac’?” asked Quatty eagerly.

“Yes indeed,” went on Harry seriously, “he’s such a coward that he would have fainted if we had even suggested coming up with us to him.”

“Well, I’se a berry brave nigger and dat’s a fac’,” proudly said Quatty rising to the bait, “them no ’count southern niggers ain’t got no real courage no-how.”

So well did Harry’s diplomatic admiration work that before they had been afloat in the upper air for half an hour more Quatty was seated on one of the transoms holding onto a strap provided for the purpose and piloting Frank as the ship forged steadily along into the wind, her engine running without a skip or a start.

It was a marvelous panorama that lay spread out far below them. Their bird’s-eye view showed them immediately beneath the floating craft the myriad green-clad islands of the archipelago threaded by bands of sparkling blue water. Soaring in the air about them, but at a respectful distance, and doubtless marveling at the invader of their realm, were kitty-hawks and fish-eagles and sometimes even the rare Everglade kite. If it had not been for the speed they were going nothing would have pleased Harry better than to get out a rifle and try a little target practice at the myriad bird-life that soared beneath and around them.

But it was not so much the immediate scene, beautiful as it was, that gripped the attention of the voyagers. Far in front of them lay a broad, dark band of trees that they knew marked the mainland and was the thick belt of cypress trees that gives its name to the Big Cypress Swamp. Beyond this again lay a scene that made their hearts beat high. It was a vast, an apparently illimitable stretch of brown prairie, looking from that distance very much like our western plains viewed from a mountain top. In the golden glow of the afternoon it shimmered and shone hazily like a magic land. Here and there patches of dark cloud-like blue dotted it and these the boys knew were the islands that are scattered at more or less frequent intervals among the watery wastes of the ’glades and on one of which, with a catch of the heart, they realized lay the object of their long quest.