"Tod could help a lot, and I suppose you are one of the dubs, but where are the rest?"
"Phil Fulton and his Boy Scouts——"
"My nephew, you mean, from Chester? I suppose I could get him, but just what are these Boy Scouts?"
"You've been so interested in your experiments that you don't know what the rest of the world is doing. Never heard of the Boy Scouts?" Jerry, secure in his own recent knowledge, was openly scornful.
"Oh, yes, now that you remind me, I do remember of reading about some red-blooded boy organization—a little too vigorous for chaps like you and Tod, eh?" he teased.
"You'll see what happens before the summer is ended. But that isn't helping us out any, now. Phil's patrol is down there with Tod right this minute, and I bet you they know a thing or two about mechanics. That seems to be their specialty—knowing something about most everything. I'm mighty sure that if you tell us what to do, we can do it. We may not know a lot about the why of it, but we're strong on following instructions."
"I'd be willing to take a chance on you fellows if it wasn't for the time. The Skyrocket's a complete wreck. It took Billings a good many times two weeks to build her up in the first place——"
"But you're not losing anything. The boys would be tickled to death to tackle it, and if we do lose out finally, why we've lost nothing but the time. It's like a big game——"
"Yes," observed Mr. Fulton dryly. "A big game, with the handicaps all against us. If we win, we lose money, and we have the pleasant chance of getting knocked over the head most any night."
"But that isn't the idea. A set of foreigners are trying to force some free-born Americans to do something we don't want to do. Are we going to let them?"