“I think this caused it,” he said, and with the point of his knife blade he pried from one of the propeller blades, where it was not deeply imbedded, a bullet.
Silently he held it in his palm for the inspection of his companions.
[CHAPTER XXVII]
THE LONE FIGURE
“Well, for the love of guns! how did that get there?” asked Bob.
“Landed after it smashed our carburetor,” was Jerry’s reply. “At least that’s my theory.”
“But who shot it at us?” Ned demanded. “Some of those crazy cowboys, I guess, who got so excited when we made flights over their heads.”
“It wasn’t there when we started out this morning,” said Jerry, “for I went over the propeller blades with a fine tooth comb, so to speak. And certainly the carburetor was all right.”
“That’s so,” admitted Ned, scratching his head. “Then——”