After dinner Rob lost no time in slipping off to find Merritt and Tubby Hopkins. By telephoning, he found out that they had both gone to the home of Paul Perkins, who will be recalled as the winner of the model aeroplane contest described in the first volume of this series, and the aeronautical enthusiast of the Eagle Patrol.
Thither, accordingly, Rob hastened to find his friends and communicate the surprising news concerning the old De Regny place. Paul’s mother informed him that he would find the boys in the old wagon house.
“In the wagon house?” exclaimed Rob in some astonishment.
“Yes,” rejoined Mrs. Perkins. “Paul has some sort of contrivance out there. Whether it’s to fly, crawl or walk, I don’t know. I only hope he won’t break his neck or spile his pants with it, like he did the last time he flitted on wings, and tried to flop from ther wagon house roof.”
“Did he break his neck, ma’am?” inquired Rob, with a perfectly serious countenance.
“No, he did not,” innocently rejoined Mrs. Perkins, “but he tore his pants suthin’ awful.”
Sure enough, as Rob approached the wagon house, he could see light streaming from the wide chinks of the tumble-down place, and could catch the sound of boyish voices within.
“And what is that, Paul?” he heard Merritt’s voice inquiring.
“That’s the propeller,” rejoined Paul, with a quiver of pride in his voice.
“That must be Tubby,” thought Rob, with a smile. Hastening forward, he rapped at the door.
“Come in!” exclaimed Paul, as Rob, at the same instant, uttered the patrol cry in a peculiar, low tone.
Rob pushed open the door, and saw before him, illuminated by the light of a stable lantern, the most peculiar looking piece of machinery he had ever set eyes on.
“It’s a motor-scooter,” declared Paul, with the inventor’s pride vibrating in his voice. He held the lamp aloft so that its radiance streamed on a glittering, bewildering mass of bars, levers, connecting rods and brace wires.
CHAPTER V. THE BOY WHO MADE THE WHEELS GO ROUND.
“That’s right, Rob, and she’s a Jim Dandy, too!” exclaimed Merritt enthusiastically.
“She’ll eat up space,” volunteered Tubby.
“Always on the eating tack,” laughed Paul.
“Better than being full of them,” remarked the fat boy, dreamily gazing up into the black shadows of the wagon shed roof.