“It’s a toad that moves sideways, like a crab,” explained the scientist. “They are very rare, and only a few museums have them. I shall count myself fortunate if I find one—almost as fortunate as if I get a luminous serpent. By the way, when shall we be able to start for them?”
“In a few days,” replied Jerry; and then the professor went out. “I’m glad he didn’t insist on wanting to help,” he added to Ned.
“That’s right. The last time he did he fitted the exhaust pipe to the gasoline intake, and we’d have had a dandy explosion if we hadn’t seen it in time.”
“And before that,” commented the tall lad, “he had the elevation rudder rigged up so that we’d have shot downward instead of going up. He did it before I found out what he was up to. No, the professor is a fine man, but what he doesn’t know about an airship would fill a few books. Now, Ned, if you’ll give me a hand we’ll connect the gasoline tank to the motor, and then fit up the pilot house controls.”
The boys and their helpers were busily engaged that afternoon when a man, who, somehow, had made his way past the guard, sauntered into the shed.
“When do you fellers calculate on givin’ th’ circus?” he drawled.
“This isn’t a circus,” replied Jerry, hoping the fellow was not going to be annoyingly curious.
“No? Wa’al, you’re goin’ t’ give an exhibition; aren’t you?”
“Oh, we’ll let the people see us fly, of course, when we get ready,” answered the tall lad, good-naturedly.