“Oh, dear!” cried the professor, as he paused in his hasty flight. “What have I done?”
From the pilot house Jerry came on the run. He quickly shut off the gasolene, which was flooding the now stationary engine. Then, as he saw the extent of the damage the scientist had unwittingly caused, the lad pulled a lever. There was a hissing sound, and the airship began to settle.
“What’s the matter?” cried Jim Nestor. “We’re falling down to the desert!” and he looked at the vast stretch of sand below them.
“Has the ship busted?” asked Sledge Hammer Tod.
“Part of the motor is,” replied Jerry quietly. “I am letting some of the gas out of the bag, so that we will go down. We will have to descend to earth to repair the engine—if, indeed, we can fix it. The break is a bad one,” and he looked grave.
“It’s all my fault,” wailed the professor. “I should not have been in such a hurry. I knocked the wrench down, and the flying lizard got away, after all.”
Amid an ominous silence the Comet, badly damaged, settled to the sands, her first stop since leaving the mine.