"Tramp or not, that fellow will bear watching."
"All right," conceded Alan, "I guess we can do that."
By night the barn and horse yard of the corral looked like a combination manufactory and hardware store. The seven sections of the skeleton-like car stretched across the old horse yard like a disjointed snake; crated aeroplane guides, and the propeller and the rudder leaned against the fence, looking like the frame work of a house; the more compact engine, motor, radiator and fan stood ready for unpacking under the shelter shed, while shafts, connections and boxes of small parts filled a large part of the empty stalls. The tins of gasoline for experimental flights and the first trip to Elmer's camp were in a far corner of the yard, and in the wagon shed stood the two immense special trunks containing the gas bag and the Italian hemp netting.
The evening meal was not as cheery and chatty an affair as the preceding ones had been, although Elmer had done his best in honor of their farewell. And the boys insisted that at this last meal the waiter should be dispensed with, and Elmer was put at the head of the table.
"Yo' make me feel as if I was a startin' fo' do norf pole," exclaimed Elmer. "I don't see what's de use of so much fussin'."
"Well, anyway," exclaimed Ned, holding up a glass of iced tea, "here's luck to you, Elmer."
"And de same to you," answered Elmer. "And to all of us."
Rising bell was to ring at four o'clock the next morning; so the boys all turned in at once after they had cleaned up the kitchen.
It was about twelve o'clock when a sudden call sounded through the car.
"Alan!".