Cyrus silently delivered up these articles, feeling a sense of thankfulness
that not one was missing. The porter went away with them, but was back in
three minutes.

"This way, sir," he said, and Cyrus followed, his heart beating fast. Down
the track he recognized the "Fleetwing," President Woodbridge's private
car. And Grandfather Cornelius he knew to be just starting on a tour of his
own and other roads, which included a flying trip to Mexico. Could it be
possible--

In the car his father and grandfather rose to meet him. Cornelius
Woodbridge, Senior, was holding out his hand.

"Cyrus, lad," he said, his face one broad, triumphant smile, "you have
stood the test, the Hezekiah Woodbridge test, sir, and you may be proud of
it. Your word of honor can be depended upon. You are going with us through
nineteen States and Mexico. Is that reward enough for one day's hardships?"

"I think it is, sir," agreed Cyrus, his round face reflecting his
grandfather's smile, intensified.

"Was it a hard pull, Cyrus?" questioned the senior Woodbridge with
interest.

Cyrus looked at his father. "I don't think so--now, sir," he said. Both
gentlemen laughed.

"Are you hungry?"