“The landing lever is gone!” he exclaimed.
“What!” the cry came from all three of his companions simultaneously.
“It’s gone!” cried the boy. “Look here, it’s been unbolted from the sector. Boys, the trial trip is off if we can’t find it.”
As it was the landing lever that controlled the descending impetus of the craft, it can readily be seen that it would have been foolhardy--suicidal, in fact--to have attempted to start without it.
“It was here the last thing last night,” cried Ned. “I know because I looked the whole craft over before I turned in.”
“Just the same, it is gone,” declared Tom.
“Somebody has taken it,” struck in Joyce.
“Yes, somebody with a spite against us,” added Ned, and in his mind the thought of Sam Hinkley flashed up.
“Has anybody seen Sam about this morning?” he asked.
No, nobody had. The boy had not put in his usual appearance, which seemed odd, for recently he had appeared to take more interest than usual in the Electric Monarch.
“You surely don’t suspect----” began Tom.
“I don’t know what to say,” interrupted Jack, “it looks odd, that’s all.”
“But what object could he have had in taking it?” asked Tom.
“Better ask Ned that,” was the response. “He told Ned he’d get even with him some time for giving him a lesson on the porch of the Hinkley House.”
“Well, suspicions won’t find that lever,” said Ned. “Suppose we look for it. Let’s start a hunt.”
“Not much use,” declared Joyce. “Whoever took that lever has hidden it where we can’t find it.”
“I guess that’s so,” admitted Jack ruefully. “I don’t want to accuse any one till we know, but it looks as if----”
A shout from beside the ship interrupted him. It was Jupe. He was pointing down the hill.
“Gollyumption!” shouted the old negro, who had been an interested though inactive onlooker. “Hyar comes dat crazy Dutch kid!”
Sure enough, up the hill was coming, as fast as his pudgy legs would carry him, the rotund form of the doughty inventor of the convertible sausage machine.
“Bother him. We don’t want that pest around now. Hullo! what’s the matter with him?”
For young Dill was waving his arms like a windmill. He dashed up, puffing like a locomotive, the next minute. It was plain he was wildly excited about something. But for some seconds he could only puff and gesticulate while his eyes rolled as if he had eaten something that had disagreed with him.