“Hark! Some one is coming!” cried Ben, as footsteps sounded in the hall.
The two made a dash for the door, and got into the corridor just in time to see someone approaching.
“He’s coming back! We’d better try for the rear way!” cried Ben.
But it was not the crazy inventor who was coming. Instead it was a man in the uniform of an asylum attendant.
The man questioned Ben and the magazine writer, and then explained how the crazy man had escaped from an asylum some months before. He had hidden himself away so well that he could not be located.
“But we’ll get him now,” said the attendant, and he was right; the crazy man was captured a little later and taken back to the asylum.
“Gracious, I hope flying machines don’t make me crazy!” said Ben, when telling Bob of what has happened.
“They never will,” declared Bob. “Your head is too level.”
It was a fine morning when the three aviators bade their friends at the settlement farewell and were driven over to the nearest railroad town. Then life became an animated whirl to them.
Newspaper correspondents boarded the train at half a dozen points down the line, eagerly pleading for interviews.