"We've struck a rummy show, old man," whispered Dick. "The old chap isn't a bad sort, though. Wonder what he is going to bring out? A traction engine?"
Tracey's curiosity was speedily set at rest by the reappearance of the stranger, dragging behind him a sleigh. The contrivance had no runners; it consisted merely of a rectangular sheet of metal curled at the foremost end. On it were thrown a couple of fir planks, about six feet in length, and nine inches in breadth.
"It's quite easy, thanks," said the stranger, declining the lads' offer to assist in dragging the sleigh. "It's made of aluminium. You will have to bear a hand when we get the bike on it. Best foot forward. I have a lot of work to finish before lunch, you know."
"Threaded?"
"Yes, we cut the threads before we left."
"Good men!" exclaimed their benefactor approvingly. "You both seem of a mechanical turn of mind. Well, you can set to work. If there's anything you require ring that bell. Lunch will be ready in an hour and twenty minutes. If you haven't finished by that time there's four hours between that and teatime. Excuse me, I must be off."
The shed was well lighted and warmed by means of hot water pipes. In one corner was a portable forge, in front of one window an up-to-date lathe. Engineer's tools, all in excellent condition, occupied racks on the walls, while on the beams overhead were bundles of white metal rods and stacks of aluminium sheeting.
"We've fallen on our feet, old man," remarked Dick. "Lunch, too, by Jove! I'm hungry. Our scrumptious repast at Shrewsbury is but a pleasant memory. I could do a jolly good tuck-in now."
"Nothing like work to while away the time," asserted Athol, casting off his motor-overalls and coat and rolling up his sleeves; "Buck up, old fellow, and rip that tyre off."
Soon the two young tourists were hard at it, and none was more surprised than they were when the door of the shed was opened and their host exclaimed,