“The Comet!”
“There she is!” shouted Ned enthusiastically.
“And not so badly damaged as I feared,” added Jerry as his eyes took in the outlines of the airship.
“Better leave the auto here,” suggested the chief. “That meadow is soft, after the rain, and you’ll sink in.”
They dismounted from the car, and eagerly ran across the field toward the airship, the chief following more slowly.
“There was quite a crowd out to see it yesterday,” the official remarked, “but one of the boys, Pixon or Snixon I think his name was,—he acted so mean, and talked of shooting anyone who came too close,—that the crowd thought it would be healthier to keep away. Then, too, he said the gas was dangerous, and might kill people.”
“Nonsense,” said Jerry. “The only way it could kill anyone would be for that person to be shut up in a room full of it. There is no danger. But that’s just like Noddy Nixon. I guess he didn’t want news that the airship was here to get out.”
“The man who owns the field made him pay for leaving it here over night,” went on the chief of police.
As the three chums approached nearer and nearer to the craft they looked for signs of life about it. The Comet was resting on nearly an even “keel” in the midst of a big green meadow. But, look as they did, the motor boys saw no one.