“And you haven’t forgotten it,” chuckled Ned. “All right, I’ll stand treat. Slow up, Jerry.”
A little later the three were drinking cool ginger ale and munching the bread and meat.
“I notice,” said Bob, as he casually took a bite, “that you fellows are eating with about as good an appetite as I have, in spite of the fun you made.”
“Oh, I admit I was hungry,” said Ned, as he held out his glass.
“Same here,” added Jerry. “It was working on that tire, I guess.”
It was nearly noon when they neared Cresville again, after swinging about in a ten-mile circle. They had greatly enjoyed the little trip, and were discussing whether or not they would take advantage of the following Saturday for a motor boat ride, or for a spin in their airship, since the chums possessed both those means of locomotion.
“I vote for the airship,” said Bob. “We don’t have to look out for punctures, and there’s no danger of getting stuck as in a motor boat.”
“Well, I’d like the boat,” said Ned. “But if you want the airship I’m willing. Noddy Nixon is back in town, though, I hear, and if we start flying he’s almost sure to do the same thing, and generally he manages to camp on our trail, somehow. But maybe we can shake him.”
“I guess so,” put in Jerry Hopkins. “We’ll—Hello!” he cried, suddenly interrupting himself, as the car swung around a curve, and approached a railroad crossing. “What’s going on at the depot?” he asked.