"Hi there, Mr. Ring," called the burly constable. "What is it—a riot?"
"A massacre, but all the victims escaped. Two blooming foreigners trying to steal an airship out of Mr. Fulton's safe down there in his cellar—wasn't that what you said, boys?"
The boys tried to explain, but both men seemed to insist on taking the whole affair as a joke, though they talked it over seriously enough when the youngsters were out of hearing. Tod opened the door and let them inside the house, but did not go in himself, motioning to Jerry to stay beside him.
"You two youngsters chase along over to the house and tell Mrs. Ring to give you your nursing bottles and put you to bed."
"Huh," snorted Tod, "we daren't leave the Skyrocket unguarded."
"Why it's Fulton's kid," exclaimed Bignold, for the first time recognizing him. "Say, you tell your dad that he's been stirring up this town till it's wild with excitement. Three telegrams this day, not to mention a special delivery letter that they've been hunting all over the country for him with. And on top of that, an important little man with brass buttons and shoulder-straps, struttin' all over the place and askin' everybody if he's Mr. Fulton, the inventor. When'd your dad get to be an inventor?"
"Well, he had to be born sometime," answered Tod dryly.
"Eh? Well, you'd best tell that same little busy-bee where your father can be found. And the telegrams; don't forget them."
"I won't," answered Tod, starting off toward town on the run. "Watch the old Skyrocket till I get back, will you, Jerry?" and he was gone.
* * * * * * *