Ned was on the bridge, his face flushed with the novelty of the
race. A mile above the earth, the two air ships came closer until,
as if running on parallel tracks, they were nearly together and
abreast.
"Balloon ahoy!" exclaimed Ned at last and in true maritime style.
"The Arrow of Los Angeles, bound across the continent," came the
sharp answer.
"The Cibola from Clarkeville, New Mexico," called Ned in reply,
"exploring. Please report us over Mount Wilson."
Then the two ships of the sky came closer. The boys could see that
the Arrow was well equipped for its purpose. Two determined looking
aeronauts were leaning from the heavily laden car.
"Need anything?" shouted the Arrow cordially.
"In good shape," answered Ned, "but a little short on provisions."
"Plenty here," came quickly from the Arrow, "glad to exchange
fifty-pound emergency rations for ballast."
"All right," responded Ned, "stand by to make a line fast."
Alan, at the engine, brought the air ship up as skillfully as a
pilot might a vessel, and as the two cars almost touched Ned passed
the end of his drag rope, and the occupants of the Arrow with a
quick turn made her basket fast to the bridge of the Cibola.
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