While Tom was gone Jack started up the engine and ran the odd-looking air-and-land machine out of the shed. With its heavy uprights and the big folds of the empty gas bag on top, the Flying Road Racer looked even odder when outside than it had within its shelter. But that, despite its cumbersome appearance, it was capable of good speed, was soon shown when the boys had swung down the driveway and out upon the smooth road leading to Nestorville.
“Going into the village?” asked Tom, noting the direction in which his cousin was driving.
“Yes. I want to get some copper wire and some bolts. After that we can take a spin out into the country.”
As he spoke Jack pressed the accelerator, and the rather ponderous car leaped forward like a scared wild thing. The dust rose about it in clouds, for the weather had been hot and dry for some time. But the road was straight and Jack did not decrease the speed. Instead, it rather increased as they flew along.
They had crossed a bridge on the outskirts of Nestorville and were still proceeding at a good pace, when something came into sight which caused Jack to slow down. It was a cloud of dust, but so thick that it effectually concealed whatever was causing it.
“Another auto coming, I guess,” conjectured Tom.
Jack shook his head.
“I don’t think so,” he said, “it’s coming too slowly for that. Maybe a flock of sheep or—Jiminy crickets!”
Out of the dust cloud, which a vagrant puff of wind swept aside, had suddenly emerged a most curious looking object. It resembled nothing so much as a large bee or horse-fly. But it was of metal, and of quite a size. In a series of extraordinary leaps and bounds, zigzagging from one side of the road to the other, it advanced toward the astonished boys.
“What on earth is it?” gasped Tom, as Jack slowed down the auto to a crawl.