"Take your seat, Newt," said Matt.
Newt, without a word, placed himself as directed.
"I guess we're all ready," called Matt, starting the motor. "Help us in the getaway, you fellows."
Cameron, McGlory, and Ping pushed the car down the slope through the dusk. Finally it drew away from them, and they saw it, like a huge spectre, sailing skyward.
Newt Prebbles undoubtedly remembered more about that daring night trip than Motor Matt.
The king of the motor boys had eyes and ears for nothing but his work. The propeller whirled the great planes on and on into the gloom, and sense of touch alone told Matt when to meet the varying points of air pressure by a shift of the wing tips.
Newt said little, and what he did say was in the nature of directions for keeping the Comet on the right course. With eyes peering ahead and downward, he watched the dusky panorama flitting away below them.
Matt admired his courage. Calm and steady, he kept rigidly to his place, interfered in no way with the freedom of Matt's movements, and watched alertly for the landmarks with which he was familiar.
Whenever they swept over a cluster of lights, young Prebbles named the town instantly.
The stars came out in the dusky vault overhead, and a big moon crept up over the horizon.