“And within twenty feet of the bellyband,” added Haynes. “Now, if someone will kindly explain to me how—”
“This kite,” said the professor, who had been studying it, “is, if I mistake not, one of a string such as are used for aerostatic experiments. The oiled paper is for rain-shedding purposes. It is a subsidiary kite, used to raise the slack of the main line. Therefore the string has not parted at the point of greatest tension.”
“And it’s as badly crumpled up,” added Colton, “as if it had collided with a brick block.”
“Its mate ought to have drifted to the opposite shore of the lake,” said Haynes. “I’ll go look.” Presently he returned with the second kite. It was twin in size and type to the first. The skeleton was intact, though the paper showed signs of its rough trip across the ground before it reached the lake.
“About sixty feet of string left on this one,” said the reporter. “Cut clean, just like the other.” He laughed nervously. “Begins to look pretty interesting, doesn’t it?”
“How many kites do you think there were in the string?” Colton asked the professor.
“Seven is by no means an unusual number in experiments of this nature.”
“Then where are the rest?”
“If the main line was severed they may well have been carried out over the ocean. Particularly this would be true if these were the two lowest subsidiary kites.”
“Hello! What’s this?” said Colton, looking up. Over the breast of the hill toward the Sound strolled a man. He wore the characteristic garb of the Montauk fishermen, and evidently was from the little colony on the north shore.