Then came another feminine voice.
“Look out, paw, they’re des’prit characters. They might kill you.”
“That’s the old man’s darter. Teaches school,” said Reuben laconically, “we’d best be lighting out o’ here.”
They scrambled on board in less time than it takes to tell it. Jack jumped for the controls and turned full power into the motor. There was a yell of dismay from Reuben as the Electric Monarch leaped forward like a horse under the lash. The amazed farm hand would have rolled overboard had it not been for Tom, who grabbed him by the collar as he lost his balance and fell sprawling on the bridge.
“Hey! Whoa thar’! Come back, you young varmints!”
The voice of Farmer Turpin came shrilly out of the night. Then behind them came a streak of flame and the roar of an explosion. Looking backward they could see the figure of the farmer sprawling on his back, kicking and yelling frantically.
“Gosh ter mighty,” exclaimed Reuben, who was by this time on his feet, “the old man fired both barrels of his scatter gun ter oncet.”
“Up we go!” cried Jack, and almost simultaneously, with his exclamation, the Electric Monarch shot up toward the star-sprinkled sky at an angle that almost sent Reuben into hysterics.
“Hey, stop this flying threshing machine,” he yelled, “lemme out! Lemme——”