Watching from the gateway he saw that Griff had been lifted to his feet and had apparently found himself only rather badly shaken. This was Bob’s decision because he saw a passing car driver help the shaken youth into his car, tumble the motorcycle out of the grass and turn it over to the plant watchman to be trundled back, and drive off to take Griff home, it seemed.
Bob met Lang beside the propeller of the little speed craft.
“Get the ignition key from Griff?” he asked.
“I did.”
“Climb in. I’ll give the prop a twist for you.”
Langley got himself set.
“Gas on?” called Bob.
“Gas on.”
“Switch off?”
“Switch off!”