“Why?” faltered Ned.
“Because there’s nothing more here to watch. My job is ended. But who are you fellows, anyhow; and what do you want here?”
“We’re the owners of the Comet,” replied Jerry, “and we came for our airship, that Mr. Glassford left with you.”
“The—the owners!” gasped Mr. Boise. “Are you the motor boys?”
“We are!” cried Ned. “Where is the Comet?”
“It’s gone—gone!” faltered the watchman.
“Gone; where?” Jerry wanted to know.
“I delivered it to a young fellow named Noddy Nixon last night,” answered Mr. Boise. “He had a letter from Mr. Glassford, and one signed Jerry Hopkins, saying he had been sent to bring the airship to you—said you couldn’t get this far, as there was a wreck.”
“Noddy—Nixon—has—our—airship!” gasped Jerry. “Fellows, he got ahead of us after all!”