“Besides,” went on stout Bob, “we haven’t had lunch yet, and——”
“There he goes!” cried Ned with a laugh, as he left his comfortable seat and prepared to go aft to the motor room. “It wouldn’t be Chunky unless he mentioned the ‘eats’ every so often. I was just waiting to hear you come out with that, Bob.”
“Huh! Well, then, you weren’t disappointed; were you?” demanded the stout lad.
“That’s all right,” interposed Jerry, hastening to pour oil on troubled waters. “Don’t get on your ear, Chunky. Ned didn’t mean anything. Come on, we’ll take a little plane downward, and settle the identity of this mysterious creature of the sea.”
“Listen to him!” exclaimed Ned. “He’s getting poetical!”
“Quit knocking,” advised Jerry. “If Professor Snodgrass were along now he might be able to settle the question for us.”
“Yes, and he’d be sure to want to capture the beast for his private collection,” said Bob, whose ill-humor had disappeared, leaving him with a smile on his round countenance.
“All ready, Ned?” asked Jerry, who was giving his attention to various gear-wheels and levers. “Shall I send her down now?”
“I guess so. Just a minute until I open the gas intake a little wider. You’re going to navigate as a dirigible; aren’t you?”
“No, I was thinking of sailing as an aeroplane,” was the answer.