Meanwhile, Matt and Carl and Dick got busy with the Hawk. The craft was put together again, the motor replaced, the envelope repaired, and in two days everything was in readiness for a return to Atlantic City—if the boys chose to go there.
"Vat do you subbose id iss dot Misder Downsent vants mit us?" asked Carl.
"Give it up, matey," answered Ferral. "I can't smoke his weather roll, but, all the same, I give him credit for meaning well."
"Shall we wait here any longer," inquired Matt, "or start back to Atlantic City? Time means money to us, you know, and the longer we wait, the more we lose—that is, if we don't intend to follow Mr. Townsend's advice."
"It's one too many for me, matey," said Ferral. "You're the longest-headed chap in the bunch, and suppose Carl and I leave the decision entirely with you?"
"If that's the way you feel," laughed Matt, "we'll stay right here and give Townsend all the chance he wants to communicate with us."
Two days after this conference, a telegram came from New Orleans. It was addressed to Matt, signed by Townsend, and read as follows:
"Come to New Orleans at once, and come in the Hawk. I need your aid, and am willing and able to pay for it."
"Dot's righdt to der point, und no misdake!" chuckled Carl. "'I vant your aid und am villing to pay for it.' Dere's no gedding aroundt dot, eh?"
"Hardly," laughed Ferral. "What are we going to do, Matt?"