“Yes, let’s get out of here, or he’ll have us back in that smoke house again!” yelled Bob.
“Can I help?” demanded the professor, who having placed his precious specimen boxes in a safe place aboard the ship, was scurrying about the deck in the darkness, without any special object in view.
“I’m doing the best I can!” cried Jerry. “This lever seems to be stuck!”
“Hold on there!” yelled the farmer again. “I’ve got th’ drop on ye! I’m goin’ t’ shoot ag’in!”
There was another flash of fire and a loud report. By the gleam from the gun the boys could see Mr. Muggins leaning out of his bedroom window, pointing the weapon at them. But they heard the bullet sing through the air, high over their heads.
“He isn’t shooting at us!” cried Bob in a hoarse whisper. “He’s aiming high!”
“That’s just the trouble!” murmured Jerry. “He may put a hole through the gas bag! Hang it all. What’s the matter with this lever, anyhow?”
As he spoke he gave it another sudden yank. There was a clicking sound, a hum and purr that became a muffled roar and then the motor started. The big propellers whirled around and the Comet shot ahead.
“Now we’re safe!” cried Ned. “Shoot away, old man; you can’t hit us now!”
As if taking the lad at his word Mr. Muggins fired again, but they did not hear the sound of the bullet. Then, faint and far away, for they were now some distance from the farmhouse, came the threatening voice: