The two friends stood bewilderedly staring at the wreck of a monoplane lying flat upon the ground. It was all in pieces. Some of the planes had been cut into and trampled on. The wheels were missing, and it had been stripped of many of its mechanical parts.
“Ben, what does it mean?” inquired Bob blankly.
“You can see for yourself. It is simply another airship than our own. It landed here by chance, just as ours landed where it did. Some one has carried away part of it.”
“Probably some one living in that queer place on the island in the river.”
“Very likely.”
Their first surprise over, the young aviators made a closer inspection.
“It is a Zenapin model, and was a good one,” reported Ben. “I wish I knew where it started from.”
“Here’s something that may tell,” said Bob, abruptly tugging at the front dip board. “It’s smashed, but part of the name is left.”
“What is it?” inquired Ben, coming quickly to the side of his companion.
“T—E—O—”