“Yes. He was only stunned, thank Heaven! Did you keep a record of the antics of your receiver since I saw you last?”
“Yes, sir. And I made a copy for you. By the way, it's working all right now when I don't want it. If Williams was only in the air now I'd give you a good demonstration of communicating with an aeroplane,” continued the operator as he prepared to leave.
Kennedy thanked him for the record and carefully folded it. Joining the crowd, we pushed our way out, but instead of going down to the station with them, Kennedy turned toward the barn and the yellow house.
For some time we waited about casually, but nothing occurred. At length Kennedy walked up to the shed. The door was closed and double padlocked. He knocked, but there was no answer.
Just then a man appeared on the porch of the yellow house. Seeing us, he beckoned. As we approached he shouted, “He's gone for the day!”
“Has he a city address—any place I could reach him to-night?” asked Craig.
“I don't know. He hired the barn from me for two weeks and paid in advance. He told me if I wanted to address him the best way was 'Dr. K. Lamar, General Delivery, New York City.'”
“Ah, then I suppose I had better write to him,” said Kennedy, apparently much gratified to learn the name. “I presume he'll be taking away his apparatus soon?”
“Can't say. There's enough of it. Cy Smith—he's in the electric light company up to the village—says the doctor has used a powerful lot of current. He's good pay, though he's awful closemouthed. Flying's over for to-day, ain't it? Was that feller much hurt?”
“No, he'll be all right to-morrow. I think he'll fly again. The machine's in pretty good condition. He's bound to win that prize. Good-bye.”