"Unless what?" queried Matt.
"Why, unless we can get her out of the tree and patch her up."
"Impossible, Dick. That would cost more than it would to build a new air ship. If we thought it worth while to do that, I have some new ideas I'd like to incorporate into the machine."
Dick's heaviness vanished a little.
"We've money enough in the bank, Matt," said he, "and if you say the word, we'll——"
"We'd better get out of the trouble this air ship has got us into, Dick," interrupted Matt, "before we think of building another."
"That's so. We look like a lot of ragamuffins. I'd like to clap eyes on that loafing longshore scuttler that brought us down! Can you make a guess as to who it was?"
"It might have been some superstitious negro hunter; or, as Carl suggested, Jurgens or one of his gang. If it was any of the latter, we have probably fallen into a snare. But if it was one of the robbers, why don't he show himself?"
"That may not be his game. What's our next move, Matt? We can't stand here boxing the compass when there's dirty weather ahead."
"I'm expecting the writer of that letter to put in an appearance. From what he wrote, I thought he would be here ahead of us."