"Can't you be reasonable?" asked Jack. "Here's my name." He wrote his name and address on a slip of paper and threw it down.
But the irate farmer paid no attention to the missive. He kept his gun steadily trained on the Wondership.
"Move an' I'll bust yer!" he said grimly.
A buggy drove out of the yard. It raced through the gate and then struck the highroad leading to Rayburn.
"Thar' goes Si arter ther constabule," said the farmer, licking his thin lips as if with relish. "Hi Ketchum is a rare one arter automobubblists. I reckon he'll be right smart tickled to death when he hears I got a whole airship fer him ter 'rest."
"Bother the old grouch," muttered Tom, as he climbed back into the Wondership, the bag of which was deflated just enough to keep her at rest on the roof.
"He's evidently mighty serious in his intentions," said Jack, with a troubled face. "What are we going to do?"
There was a sudden puff of wind and the big yellow balloon bag swayed slightly.
Instantly the farmer's finger crooked on his trigger. He thought the boys were going to give him the slip.
"No you don't," he shouted, "you don't fool Ezry Perkins that 'er way!"