Andy was wiggling about like an uneasy snake, and he only had one foot on the ground at a time. Jerry looked at the telegram, saw that it was addressed to himself, and tore it open.
“Are you sure you’ve got all that out of your system?” inquired Ned of Andy.
“All of what?” asked the small, excited boy.
“All that talk. Because if you keep any in you might explode,” went on the merchant’s son.
“Better get another ice cream soda and cool off,” advised Bob, handing Andy a dime.
“I will – thanks – no bad news I hope – mine all safe – motorship not busted – I’ll cool down soon – go to the store – drug store – half a dozen flavors – I always take vanilla – lots of ice cream – here I go – whoop!” and down the street Andy started on the run.
“Thank goodness he’s gone,” murmured Ned with a sigh of relief. “He gets on my nerves. But what’s the news, Jerry?”
“Professor Snodgrass will arrive to-morrow,” replied the tall lad folding up the message. “He’s on the track of some new kind of bug or beast I suppose. He wants us to meet him at the station.”
“Good!” cried Bob. “Now we’ll have some more fun, and go off after a mosquito that plays the piano, or something like that, I suppose. Three cheers for Professor Snodgrass!”
“Say, you’re getting almost as bad as Andy Rush,” commented Jerry, as he once more started the machine, and steered it into the driveway of his home.
CHAPTER VI
“HOLD THE TRAIN!”
“What time will the professor get here?” asked Ned, as he and Bob sat on the broad porch of Mrs. Hopkins’s house.
“On the afternoon train, he says,” replied Jerry.
“And what sort of a bug is he after now?” demanded Bob.
“He doesn’t say. Not that it makes much difference. All is grist that comes to his mill, and if he can’t get an ant with pink legs, he’ll take a June bug with purple wings. But be on hand to meet him, fellows, and we’ll go down to the station together to-morrow afternoon.”
“Say, if he doesn’t get in until then we’ll have time in the morning to make a flight in the Comet,” suggested Bob.
“That’s right. Then we can see what we have to do, to get it in shape for the Colton meet,” added Ned.
“I’m with you,” declared the tall lad. “Let’s go on out now and have a look at it. And say – you fellows stay to supper at my house, and we’ll go all over the Comet this evening.”
“Good idea,” commented Bob, with a sigh of satisfaction. He knew of old the skill of the Hopkins cook.
“Very good – especially the supper part; eh, Chunky?” put in Ned with a laugh. “I’ll telephone home, and tell mother that I’m going to stay.”
Bob did the same thing, and after the meal, which Bob declared was the best he ever ate (though he was always saying that) the boys went out to the aeroplane shed which was in a large field, owned by Mrs. Hopkins, and some distance from her house.
“Now Jerry, be careful,” the widow cautioned them as they left. “You remember once you had trouble at the shed, when Noddy Nixon bound Sud Snuffles, the watchman, and took the aeroplane away. Look out for bad characters there. I wish it was nearer the house – especially when night comes on.”
“Oh, there’ll be no danger from Noddy Nixon to-night mother,” declared Jerry with a laugh. “Noddy is stuck in the mud too fast to get out in a hurry,” and he told of the bully’s plight. “But we’ll be on the lookout. We don’t keep Sud on guard any more.” For following his unscrupulous theft of the motorship, the bully had been more careful how he interfered with the property of our heroes, and there was no necessity of a watchman at the shed.
The boys spent some time going over the motorship. They had not used it in the past two weeks, on account of bad weather; but they found it in good shape, and, after a few adjustments and a tightening of the guy wires, it was ready for service.
“We’ll take a flight in the morning,” decided Jerry, as he and his chums left the shed, making sure that the doors were securely fastened.
“And maybe we’ll meet that other aeroplane – the Silver Star,” suggested Ned.
“Not much likelihood of that,” declared Bob. “Those fellows are up to some game, I think.”
“What game?” demanded Jerry quickly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” was the somewhat uncertain reply of the stout lad, “only I have my suspicions of them.”
“So have I,” admitted Ned, “only I don’t know what I’m suspicious of.”
“Well, I’m going to get to bed,” announced the tall lad with a yawn. “Be on hand early fellows, and we’ll go off on a little flight.”
Jerry and Ned were on hand in good time at the aeroplane shed the next morning. They wheeled the craft out into the broad, level starting place, and proceeded to tighten the few wires they had overlooked the night before.
As has been told in previous books of this series, the Comet was a combined dirigible balloon and aeroplane. By means of a powerful gas, forced into a container above the aeroplane proper, it could ascend as a balloon, or it could scud along over the ground on bicycle wheels and, when sufficient momentum had been obtained it could rise by means of the tilted forward lifting planes, and maintain itself as long as it was in motion.
“What’s the matter with Bob, I wonder?” remarked Jerry as he went in the engine room, to look at the motor.
“Oh, probably he’s eating his second breakfast,” replied Ned, who was inspecting the gas machine.
“She isn’t making vapor very fast,” spoke Jerry, as he looked at the dial of the containing tank, and noted how much of the lifting gas was in storage.
“No, it needs a new valve,” decided Ned. “But we can go up as an aeroplane, and by the time we get up a mile or two there’ll be gas enough.”
The Comet was a roomy craft. There was a good-sized dining room, plenty of sleeping apartments, a storeroom, a large motor compartment, a neat little galley or kitchen, where Bob spent much of his time, and a living room, where they all gathered during the day to read, talk or make observations as they scudded through space, high above the earth.
“I wish Bob would come, if he’s going to get here,” went on Jerry. “He is always more or less late. We won’t have time to get anywhere before we have to be back again to meet the professor.”
“There he comes now,” exclaimed Ned, as he caught sight of a stocky figure hurrying across the field. “And by Jove, if he isn’t swallowing the last of his breakfast on the run! He must have overslept.”
“What’s the matter, Chunky?” asked Jerry, as his chum approached, panting from his unusual speed.
“One of our rabbits got loose – had to chase it – might eat up the neighbors’ fruit trees – never saw such a rabbit – thought I had it in the cage half a dozen times – but it got out – that’s what made me late.”
“But you stopped to get your breakfast,” observed Ned, as he saw traces of egg on Bob’s fat good-natured face.
“Sure I did! What do you think I am? Going off on a flight without something to eat! I had a good breakfast, and I brought along a package of grub – I was afraid you fellows would forget it.”
“Oh,