“Oh, there’s no serious damage done,” Jerry said. “We have a spare carburetor.”
“Will that bullet in the propeller weaken it any?” Bob inquired.
“Not in the slightest. The old machine will soon be as good as ever.”
It was not quite so easy to put in a new carburetor as Jerry had thought, however, for the bullet that put out of commission this very necessary part of the motor’s equipment had also smashed a feed pipe.
There was an extra piece in one of the lockers, however, and this was inserted after about an hour’s work. A test of the machine showed that it was again in shape for the duty required of it, and having rolled it to a stretch of level ground the boys prepared to set off once more.
Up and up rose the great bird-like affair of wood, steel and canvas and the deserted camp was soon but a speck below them.
“Now if that fellow takes it into his head to fire again, and smashes our other carburetor, we’re done for,” observed Ned.
“I don’t believe he will,” responded Jerry, and he proved a true prophet. For while the tall lad was at the wheel, Ned and Bob kept a sharp watch down below. There were no more puffs of smoke, and the airship was soon so high up that no ordinary missile could reach it.
“And now what’s your plan?” asked Ned of his tall chum.