“All right, my boy. Go ahead as soon as you’re ready.”
Jack pressed a button on the steering pillar. The self-starting mechanism, operated by the same storage batteries that ran the lights and the ventilating fans, whirred loudly in response. An instant later he applied the gas. A volley of explosions followed. The shed was filled with an odd, sickly odor.
Again Jack’s hands flew, and with a jolt the Wondership leaped forward, rumbling over the wooden floor.
Straight out toward the sand dunes she rolled, her engine pulsing like a throbbing human heart. The light but strong framework vibrated under the strain. The great propeller of magnesium-vanadium metal became a mere shadowy blur.
Outside the shed a sort of runway had been built leading down to high water mark. As the odd craft rushed toward the waves Tom was conscious of a queer feeling, centering at the pit of his stomach.
“Guess I must be scared,” he snorted indignantly to himself, and then broke off with a sudden exclamation.
“What’s that?”
“What’s what?” came from Jack, who was busy adjusting levers and buttons.
“Why, that.”
As he spoke, both boys became aware of an odd sort of muffled sound, coming seemingly from under the seat on which they were stationed.