“I don’t see anything of Sud,” remarked Jerry, peering about.
“Then he’s gone with the thieves!” decided Andy. “He’s in a conspiracy with them! Helped steal the airship--gone off on a trip--he’s fond of traveling--he’d go ten thousand miles--never come back--whoop!”
“Andy, _will_ you be quiet,” begged Jerry. “This may be a serious matter. Look around and see if you can find any traces of Sud, boys.”
“He seems to have slept in the cot,” observed Bob. “The clothes are all mussed up.”
They began a hasty search of the rear of the shop, Andy joining in. But though they looked in several closets where tools or supplies were kept, and peered into all sorts of odd nooks and corners, there was no sign of the watchman.
“I’m afraid he has gone off,” began Jerry, but, the next moment, he and the others were startled by hearing a groan.
“Somebody’s killed!” gasped Andy, his face turning pale.
“It sounded from under the cot,” observed Ned.
His words were a signal for all to rush to the little bed. Jerry lifted up the clothes that draped over the front edge, concealing a view underneath. As the lad raised the coverlets, there was disclosed a pitiful sight.
Old Sud Snuffles, tied with numerous ropes, his head enveloped in a bag, lay under the cot. He was as helpless as a baby, and, as the boys looked at him in wonder and alarm, a stifled groan came from the bag. At the same time Jerry sniffed the air suspiciously.
“Boys!” he cried, “Sud has been drugged--chloroformed! We must bring him to consciousness, and then, maybe, he can tell us about the theft of our airship. There’s been some queer goings-on here!”
It was the work of only a few seconds for the active lads to get poor Sud from under the cot, and cut the ropes that bound him. Then the bag was taken from his head, and it was discovered that he was gagged. The smell of chloroform was more strong and Jerry, applying to his nose the rag that had served to stifle the voice of the watchman, detected on it the odor of the drug.
“This is desperate business,” remarked Ned soberly.
“Indeed it is,” asserted Jerry. “If Noddy Nixon has had a hand in this I’ll prosecute him for it. He’s going too far. This is the worst of his many tricks.”
“Do you think Sud will die?” inquired Andy, hovering about anxiously, moving here and there, like a restless bird. “Is he dead now? I can’t hear him breathe.”