What
about it?"
"I think," Ned replied, "that we have blundered on the country
residence of Mr. Horace M. Lyman!"
"What does he come up here for?" asked the little fellow. "Ain't he
got no sense?"
"The decision wasn't up to him, I take it," laughed Ned. "The
schemers in that crooked little country wanted to get him out of the
way, so they wouldn't be getting into a quarrel with the little old
U. S. A."
"I don't see him anywhere around," the other said.
"He doesn't seem to be on exhibition, and that's a fact," Ned
replied.
"Perhaps," Jimmie grinned, "we'd better look up this Thomas Q.
Collins! I guess, he could lead us to him."
"No doubt of that," Ned admitted.
Having securely hidden the tinned food, the boys still lingered in
the vicinity of the Nelson. The machine lay shining in the
sunlight, seeming to look reproachfully up at the boys, accusing
them of getting her into a very bad predicament.
"Good old girl!" Jimmie cried, stroking the motors. "We'll get you
out of this mix-up, all right!"
"If we do," Ned replied, studying the ground about the machine,
"we'll have to get cover somewhere and watch her night and day."
He pointed to footprints close up to the motors as he spoke, and
Jimmie began measuring the impressions in the soft earth.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113