“He’s sure of it,” replied Andy. “He told me how many flaps the wings made every second, but I’ve forgotten.”
“What does he expect will make the machine rise in the air?” asked Jerry. “Has he aeroplanes or a balloon attached to it?”
“Nope. Nothing but a sort of car, shaped like a fly’s body, and two wings on each side, with a tail in back like that of a fish. He says the flopping of the wings will make it rise up, same as a bird flies.”
“Well, if that isn’t the limit!” exclaimed Jerry. “He must be crazy. It is a heavy machine, Andy?”
“Sure. It takes four men to lift it.”
“And he expects to make it rise up by vibrating tin wings,” went on Jerry. “Well, he is a chump!”
“I am, eh? Well, maybe when you see me sailing along through the air you won’t be so fresh!” exclaimed a new voice, and the four boys, looking up, saw Noddy Nixon, their enemy, standing not far away. He had come up through the fields back of Jerry Hopkins’ house, where the chums were resting in the shade of a little grove, and he had overheard the closing sentences of their conversation.
“I’m a chump, am I?” he went on angrily. “Well, I’ve gotten the best of you more than once, Jerry Hopkins, and I’ll do it again. The Firefly will fly, and I know it, and if you slander me or my machine any more I’ll sue you for damages. I’ll fix you, Andy Rush, for giving my secrets away!” and with an angry look on his mean, crafty face, Noddy Nixon advanced toward the little fellow.