"Red Cloud?" questioned Mr. Sharp.

"Yes!" exclaimed Tom, with enthusiasm. "It's painted red-at least the
big, aluminum gas container is-and we hope to go above the clouds in
it. Why not Red Cloud?"

"That's what it shall be!" conceded the balloonist. "If I had a bottle
of malted milk, or something like that, I'd christen it."

"We ought to have a young lady to do that part," suggested Tom. "They
always have young ladies to name ships."

"Were you thinking of any particular young lady?" asked Mr. Sharp
softly, and Tom blushed; as he replied

"Oh no-of course that is-well--Oh, hang it, christen it yourself, and
let me alone," he finished.

"Well, in the absence of Miss Mary Nestor, who, I think, would be the
best one for the ceremony," said Mr. Sharp, with a twinkle in his
eyes, "I christen thee Red Cloud," and with that he sprinkled some
water on the pointed nose of the red aluminum gas bag, for the
aeronaut and Tom were on a high staging, on a level with the upper
part of the airship.

"Red Cloud it is!" cried Tom, enthusiastically. "Now, to-morrow we'll
see what it can do."

The day of the test proved all that could be desired in the way of
weather. The fact that an airship was being constructed in the Swift