“Hush. I don’t know, except that his name’s Hiram Rossmore. He wants us to come in the house. He’s a bit queer. Here he comes.”
The farmer had followed Jerry as the latter turned back toward the airship; and Mr. Rossmore, together with the boys and Professor Snodgrass, wheeled the Comet toward a big wagon shed, which fortunately proved large enough to accommodate the craft. Not that rain would spoil it, but in a terrific thunder storm, such as was now in progress, and with a stiff wind blowing, there was danger of damage to the somewhat frail machine.
It was soon under shelter and well secured with ropes, while Jerry went inside to make a quick inspection of the broken brace.
“It will need a blacksmith shop to repair it,” he reported to his chums.
“Wa’al, can ye come in th’ house now?” asked Mr. Rossmore, as he stood under the shed, at the side of the motorship. “This is a bigger shebang than the other—I mean it’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, then you’ve seen one before?” asked Jerry with a quick and warning glance at his chums.
“Yes, I saw one on exhibition at our county fair,” was the disappointing answer. “It wasn’t so big as this, and was some different.”
“We are looking for an airship that belongs to—er—well, to some men we know,” spoke Jerry. “It may be sailing around here. We’re looking for it.”
“Wa’al, I guess you won’t find it here,” said the man, with rather an uneasy laugh. “Now come on in the house and dry off. I live all alone exceptin’ for the hired man, and he’s gone to town to-day, so we’ll have the place to ourselves. Come on in the house. That barn’s dangerous in a thunderstorm—in fact it’s dangerous most any time. It’s likely to fall. I wouldn’t go too near it if I was you.”