"What's going on?" he questioned. "Is he stopping?"
"I don't think so," ventured Francois. "He's just shutting off power, and will volplane down to a point where he picks up the receipt. Then he will swing upward again under power and be away!"
The boy's conjecture was, indeed, correct. The pilot of the monoplane glided swiftly down to a level barely clear of the earth. Swooping along, he caught the immense hoop on which the message had been fixed, wrenched it from its standard, and again started upward.
"There he goes!" shouted Jimmie disgustedly, as the roar of the exhaust from the French machine reached their ears. "Engine working like an Ingersoll, everything all right, clear track, nothing to do till tomorrow! Great Frozen Hot Boxes; this is something fierce!"
"Keep your head, Jimmie," advised Jack consolingly. "We've lost this race, but there may be others. Ned will return directly."
"Well, what's keeping him?" demanded Jimmie, controlling himself with an effort. "I wonder if they are reading the message before replying."
"They're a bunch of pikers!" declared Harry.
Of course, we know that Harry's application of the term to the ones in charge of the receipt was in this case unwarranted. Ned's delay could not in any way be charged to their actions at this time.
"I'm going to run along the path a little ways and see what's keeping Ned!" declared Jimmie at length. "I know something's wrong!"
"Better stay here, Jimmie," advised Harry. "Ned wouldn't like it if you wander away from the machine even a little way."