And there, sitting on the fuselage grinning at them, was Ted.
“I start out to rescue you.” He laughed. “And now look! You come to rescue me and my plane!”
“Is your plane badly damaged?” Jack asked anxiously.
“Not so far as I can see.” Ted slid down into the canoe. “She’s got a few slugs in her. Her tail needs a bit of trimming. Three or four hours’ work should put her in shape.”
“Then why didn’t you taxi in?” Jack asked.
“Taxi? Move? Make a noise? Say!” Ted laughed hoarsely. “If you’d been attacked by a flying freak as I was, you wouldn’t even dare to breathe!”
“The jet plane got you,” Stew put in. “That’s what I thought.”
“The what plane?” Ted stared.
“The jet plane,” Jack grinned. “It’s pushed about by a jet of hot kerosene blown up into gas and mixed with air. We know all about it.”
“Have you been flying it?” Ted questioned. “Perhaps that was you flying it today! Well, if it was, I think I got your pal.”