“Whenever you are.”
A little later, with Professor Snodgrass accompanying them, they made a flight. The scientist paid no attention to the plaudits of the crowd that eagerly gathered to see one of the first ships to attempt a flight. Mr. Snodgrass had no time for such matters. He was looking eagerly for a new kind of bug.
They made a flight of about two miles, ascending to a height of several hundred feet, but to Professor Snodgrass’s great disappointment the only specimen he caught was a snapping bug, which he threw away in disgust, as he already had enough of them in his collection.
“Well, boys,” said Mr. Glassford as he prepared to descend, “I guess we’re in good shape for the race. We’ll go all over the ship to-morrow, tighten her up and stiffen her a bit, and then we’ll be ready for the word to start.”
They made a beautiful descent, right in front of their tent, and soon the Comet was housed under the canvas. As Mr. Glassford, the professor and the boys were about to come away, leaving a watchman on guard, a man stepped up to Mr. Glassford, held out a paper, and asked:
“Are you Rupert Glassford?”
“That’s my name.”
“And are these boys Jerry Hopkins, Ned Slade and Bob Baker?”
“They are.”
“Then I’ve come to serve this paper on you and them,” announced the man, opening a document he carried.