"You mean that something was after your chickens?" asked Mark.
"Dat's de impression I done endeavored to prognostigate to yo', but seems laik I ain't understood," replied Washington with an injured air.
"Oh, I understand you, all right," said Jack, "but I thought you meant some one was gettin in the machine shop."
"No, dere ain't been no one dere, but I was skeered dat somebody was after mah chickens, but I guess it were only a rat. I'll go back an stay on guard now."
"No, you'd better go to bed," decided Jack. "Mark and I will finish out the night."
"All right," agreed Washington, who, to tell the truth, was getting sleepy.
There were no further disturbances, and Mark and Jack found their tour of duty rather lonesome.
"Well, I suppose we'll start in a day or so," marked Jack, as they paced about the big shed which housed the great projectile.
"Yes. The motor seems to be in good working order again. But say, I've just thought of something."
"What?"