“I saw him hurrying down the street, right after the flying machine left,” explained a large boy on the edge of the crowd.
“Where was he going?” demanded the first speaker.
“I didn’t ask him and I don’t ’spose he’d told if I had.”
“But you’ve got one of ’em?” said another man to Harvey.
“Yes; one was killed by the explosion, but the other wasn’t hurt to any extent.”
“Where is he?”
“Safely bound in the house of Uncle Tommy Waters.”
Uncle Tommy was in the group, somewhat back, chewing hard and listening to the absorbing relation. He had not yet spoken, but did not allow a word to escape him. The instant the last remark was made, he stopped chewing, pushed nearer the young aviator and asked:
“Did you say he’s in my house?”
“Yes, bound fast in a chair and under the watchful eye of your wife.”