Two stiff, sleepy, disgusted boys sat up in their nest of blankets and looked at each other through the framework of the Skyrocket next morning at something like seven o'clock.
"And you said you wouldn't go to sleep," each said slowly and accusingly to the other, then both grinned sheepishly.
"Oh, well, the machine's still here, so why grouch over a couple hours' sleep?" Tod defended. "Huh—I suppose not. But I'll bet dad had a good laugh over us when he came down here about breakfast time. What's that pinned to your blanket?"
Tod crawled out of his nest and pulled loose the scrap of paper that had been pinned in the region of his big toe.
"It's a note. Want to hear it? It says, 'Mother Ring tells me pancakes are ready for you when you've finished your guard-mount. Signed—A Burglar.' That's sure one on us."
It was scant justice that the two did to breakfast that morning. Four telegrams were burning holes in Tod's pockets; he could hardly keep from tearing them open, so curious was he to know their contents. Even the newspaper that Mrs. King brought in and laid beside their plates, could not entirely hold their attention, in spite of the startling news headlined on the front page. "BREAK WITH GERMANY—U. S. on Verge of Being Drawn Into World War."
"We'll take it with us and read it after we get there. No—not another cake, Mrs. Ring. Excuse us, please—we've got to go."
"It seems a shame——" began Tod, when they were once more outside, then asked abruptly: "Willing to take a licking, Jerry?"
"And go back on the Skyrocket? Did you think we were going any other way? And leave the machine here for anybody to come along and study out—or steal? Not much! I'll take a dozen lickings!"
But he didn't. When the Skyrocket finally circled about Lost Island and settled down over the narrow landing field as easily as a homing pigeon, to come to a stop with hardly a jar, it was bringing news to Mr. Fulton that was bound to soften the heart of any dad.