“You’re all right!” The big fellow grinned broadly. “Wish you all sorts of good luck!”
“Luck!” Goggles said to Hop. “That’s what I’m going to need, for sure as my name’s Goggles I’m going to ride to the next stop inside one of those wings of mystery, right along with our old iron pal.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Hop stared.
“Why not? Plenty of room. Safe there as anywhere.”
That was all there was said about it, but when they took off a few hours later, Goggles did not occupy his accustomed seat in the airplane cabin.
Pilot Sheeley had offered no objection to the boy’s plan of riding inside the airplane’s wing. “You won’t find it very exciting. It’ll be a bit bumpy. You won’t be able to see a thing, and we’ll be passing over some gorgeous country.”
“May see enough!” the boy replied. “Someone has been tampering with our iron man—done it three times. I’m going to find out how and why.”
He recalled his own words as, lying flat along the inside of the plane, he felt the throb of motors and knew they were on their way. “I wonder if I shall!” he whispered.
At the back of him were the parts of the steel-fingered pitcher. Before him, and on the other side of the trapdoor through which he had crawled, was a large roll of canvas. “Probably used for covering the motors in severe weather when there is no hangar near,” he thought.
What did he expect as he lay there feeling the lift and drop of the plane as she swung along through the air? He hardly knew. He suspected that somehow, someone had a means of getting into the plane after the ship was on the ground.