“Did you think it was a dining-room?” asked Tom, with great sarcasm.
“Looks as if every kind o’ tool that was ever invented is here. What’s that thing at the other end, mister?”
“All that remains of the ‘Ogden I,’ son,” answered the aviator. “It has been dismantled and some of the parts used for other machines.”
The boys found the big workshop a very interesting place. A soft mellow light from the afternoon sun streamed in through several open windows, lighting in its course a long table upon which were placed various pieces of machinery and a great collection of tools. A large and a small glider rested against one wall.
For once, Willie Sloan began to exhibit some signs of interest. He wandered about, poking his head into every corner of the shop, until Jed Warren suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Time to git back, fellers!” he called. “Comin’?”
“I reckon as how we be, pard,” answered Willie.
As Bob shook the inventor’s hand, he said: “The crowd will be back in a few days; and then I hope to begin those lessons.”
Willie Sloan soon climbed into the buckboard, the boys mounted their bronchos, and, with a final shout and waving of hands to the three aeroplanists, the crowd was off.
The buckboard, driven at a rattling pace by Jed Warren, sent little eddies of dust rolling behind it. In a short time the ranch-house had disappeared behind a patch of timber.