"Bully for you!" exclaimed Mr. Fulton, coming over and clapping Jerry on the shoulder. "Have any trouble?"
"You better guess we did," broke in Dave. "A motorboat tried its best to run us down."
Mr. Fulton looked grave as he listened to the tale of their adventure. As Dave finished a spirited account of their narrow escape, the man turned to Tod with:
"Guess you'd better look after filling the tank, son, while I chase over to the house and get my goggles and my harness," referring to a leather brace the doctor had brought him a few days before to use until his shoulder grew stronger. Unfortunately, the thing was not properly made and it held the arm too stiffly, so Mr. Fulton used it only when he absolutely had to.
The boys all wanted to have a hand in this final operation and consequently it took twice as long as was necessary to fill the tank. Enough was spilled, as Tod said, to run the Skyrocket ten miles. In the meanwhile, one of the boys took the small can and went the rounds and filled all the torches with gasoline, while another came close behind him and started them going.
Tod finally left the rest to finish the job of filling the Skyrocket, and disappeared in the direction of the workshop. Within five minutes the boys heard the steady chugging of "Old Faithful" as they had named the shop motor. An instant later the whole field was suddenly lighted up as the twenty incandescent lights flashed up brightly.
"Some illumination!" cried Jerry, delightedly, turning to Mr. Harris, who happened to be nearest him.
"Yes," agreed the man coldly, "but it's all on the ground."
"Sure. Because there's nothing up in the air to see. Wait till the old Skyrocket shoots up," and Jerry walked over to where the boys were standing. "Old grouch," he said to himself. "You'd think he didn't want to see us win out."
Tod came hurrying back from the hangar. "Where's dad?" he asked.