“It’s only a box kite,” said Jerry at last. “It’s pretty high up, though. Too bad, Andy.”
They went on again, and as the afternoon passed they began to give up hope, and talked of where they would spend the night, for they were determined not to go back home without some news of their airship. They had come prepared for a night’s stay at a hotel, and, not many miles from where they now were, was a railroad station, where Andy could get a train home.
As they were chug-chugging along a quiet road, Jerry saw, just ahead of him, a farmer driving toward them a spirited team of horses.
“Guess I’ll slow up a bit when passing them,” the tall lad remarked to his chums. “I don’t want a runaway.”
The team seemed so skittish as they approached that, for fear of frightening them, Jerry shut off all power, and the auto came to a stop.
“I’m much obliged to you,” called the farmer, as he held in the animals when passing the car. “It ain’t often that automobile fellers is as considerate as you be. I appreciate it. Besides, my team hasn’t gotten over a fright they had early this morning.”
“How was that?” asked Ned, while the farmer pulled up, the two fine horses evincing less fear of the auto, now that it was quiet. “Did a car scare them this morning?”
“Well, not exactly an automobile,” was the answer, “that is, unless autos run overhead in the air.”
Jerry caught at that remark at once:
“What do you mean?” he asked quickly.