Luckily, at that moment, the Florida boy turned about, glancing into the engine room.
What he saw made Jeff stare, then gasp. Both operations were over in the space of a second.
"Here, you infernal rascal!" shouted Jeff. "Stop it!"
Nor did he content himself with that startled roar. The Florida boy carried his fighting pluck with him at all times.
Though Cragthorpe was about half as large again as the young assistant engineer, Randolph made a direct spring for him.
Cragthorpe didn't have time to complete his mischief to the engine just then.
Instead, he swung around, aiming the wrench at Jeff's head. But young Randolph halted, instantly picked up another wrench, and sent it whizzing.
Boiling with wrath, the Florida boy didn't aim particularly. He didn't care where his wrench landed, provided that it served the purpose.
The flying missile struck hard against the knuckles of Cragthorpe's right hand, forcing him to let his own weapon drop.