“We’ll have to get a new wheel,” he said. “If I had wire, a tire and tools, I could invent one, but I haven’t.”
“But where can we get one?” gasped Harry, for spare wheels were one of the necessities the boys had forgotten to put in the auto.
“A bicycle wheel would do,” said Mr. Joyce, who was seated on the grass designing an improved mousetrap.
Inquiry developed the fact that nobody in Remson was willing to sell a bicycle wheel, and the boys were almost in despair until one of the villagers volunteered the information that there was a bicycle factory at Tottenville, twenty miles away.
“We’ll have to go over there in the auto. That’s the only thing to do,” announced Frank.
“Looks like it,” agreed the others.
An arrangement was made with the red-faced man whereby the boys leased a bit of his field for a camping-place for the night, and the waterproof tent was soon erected, the portable cots set up, and the blue-flame stove started going under a liberal supply of ham and eggs and coffee. Lathrop went into the village and soon returned with pie and cakes. The boys’ meal was rather a public one, for the villagers seemed hypnotized by the sight of the sky boys, and gazed stolidly at them as they ate, as if there was something as wonderful in that as in their flights.
While they were eating, a farmer, who had driven into town from a small village some miles away, announced that the dirigible and the Despatch aeroplane had landed there.
“Well, we are holding our lead, anyway,” remarked Harry cheerfully.
“I hope we can maintain it as far as Pittsburg,” said Frank, for, of course, all the contestants had to race over the prescribed course.