“Well, we ought to settle this question about our vacations, one way or another, fellows,” remarked a tall, good-looking lad, with something of an air of worriment, as he glanced at his two comrades who were stretched out in the shade of a big maple tree one hot afternoon. He plucked some blades of grass from the well-kept lawn, that extended back to a large, white house, with big pillars, put the spears of green into his mouth, and chewed them reflectively. Then he added: “Why can’t you and Chunky agree, Ned? What’s the use of disputing? It’s too hot.”
“Of course it is,” answered the smaller of the two lads thus addressed.
“Hot nothing!” puffed the stout youth, whom the first speaker had called “Chunky” in tribute to his fleshiness. “It’s only hot because you imagine it, Ned Slade.”
“Bob says that because he wants to go South,” retorted Ned. “Eh, Jerry?”
“Now don’t you agree with him, Jerry Hopkins!” cried Bob Baker. “Be on my side for once,” and he looked an appeal at his tall chum. “Ned wants to go to Canada.”
“I’d like to go to the North Pole to-day,” responded Ned, turning over, as if to find a cooler place in the grass. “But, speaking seriously, I think I’ve got as much right to insist that the next trip we take in our airship shall be to some new locality, as Bob has to suggest that we go South.”
“Of course you’ve got a right to insist,” agreed Bob, puffing over his exertion of turning on one side. “Of course you have, Ned. Who started this argument, anyhow?” and he spoke rather sharply.
“Guess I’ve got as much right to start an argument as you have, Bob,” was Ned’s retort, and there was an unpleasant tone in his voice, at which Jerry looked troubled.
“Come, fellows,” spoke the tall lad, soothingly. “It’s too warm to bicker. Get down to business. We’ll take a vote on it. Where shall we spend this vacation in our airship?”
“I say South!” exclaimed Bob quickly.
“He’s thinking of the Florida everglades, where the Seabury girls had their houseboat, or else he wants to try to locate another buried city in Mexico,” broke in Ned.
“I do; eh? Well, what attracts you to Canada?” demanded the stout lad.
“Maybe he’s heard that the Seabury girls are going there,” suggested Jerry, with a smile.
“No,” answered Ned. “I only thought it would be cooler. I’m willing to leave it to you, Jerry.”
“So am I,” agreed Bob, more amiably, and the little cloud that seemed to threaten to come over the friendship of the chums, had almost vanished.
“I was going to suggest a Western trip,” proposed Jerry quickly, wishing to strike while the iron was hot, “but as we have been there before, perhaps Ned will object.”
“It depends on what part of the West you’d aim for,” came from Ned. “Go ahead, Jerry, and tell us some more.”
“Sure,” agreed the tall lad, pleasantly. He glanced quizzically at his two chums. Bob was idly chewing a leaf, and Ned was gazing up into the blue sky through the leaves of the maple tree.
The three chums, whose devotion to vehicles of the gasolene type, from motor cycles to airships, had gained for them the title of “The Motor Boys,” lived in the town of Cresville, not far from Boston. Bob Baker’s father was Andrew Baker, a rich banker; Ned was a son of Aaron Slade, who was the proprietor of a large department store, and Jerry Hopkins was the only child of Mrs. Julia Hopkins, a wealthy widow.
The boys had had many adventures together, and the beginning of them was told of in the first book of this series, entitled “The Motor Boys.” Their activities started in a bicycle race, but they soon exchanged their wheels for motor cycles, and a short time after that they won a touring car, offered as a prize. In that they made a long trip overland, and, later, went to Mexico, to which trip Ned referred when he mentioned the buried city, for the boys actually did discover one, for which a friend of theirs, Professor Uriah Snodgrass, a noted scientist, was in search.
They returned home from Mexico across the western plains of the United States, and then, using some money they had made from a gold mine they had located, they bought a speedy motor boat.
The fifth volume of this series, entitled “The Motor Boys Afloat,” took up their adventures in connection with the speedy craft Dartaway. They had some stirring times around home, and then took quite a long trip along the Atlantic coast. From there they journeyed to the mysterious Florida everglades, to which Ned had also referred. But the happenings there, strange and weird as they were, seemed, to the boys at least, to be more than equalled in a trip they made on the Pacific, though this voyage was in a motor boat they hired, as their own was smashed in a freight wreck.
The growing interest in aeronautics soon led the motor boys to investigate the possibility of navigating through the air, and, shortly after their return from their trip on the Pacific, they began to build an airship. In this they were assisted by a Mr. Rupert Glassford, and in the ninth book of this series, called “The Motor Boys in the Clouds,” there was related the particulars of a trip they took for fame and fortune.
Their airship, a combination of dirigible balloon and aeroplane, was called the Comet, and was one of the most completely fitted-up air craft devised in recent years. There was ample accommodation for a long trip, and the travelers could keep afloat in it a long time, provided no accident occurred. In it, as related in the ninth book, they won a substantial prize in competition with a number of balloons and aeroplanes.
It was about this airship that Bob, Ned and Jerry were talking the pleasant summer afternoon, on which I have, once more, brought them to the attention of my readers. As they sat there on the grass, their minds went back to the wonderful air trip they had made and they thought of the efforts of Professor Snodgrass to capture strange insects and bugs, for that was the one hobby of the scientist. They also recalled the dastardly attempt made by Noddy Nixon, a town bully, to injure them, by firing at their craft. Noddy had made an attempt to build a sort of airship, but had failed.
Now the motor boys were on the point of planning a second flight in their craft, only, as has been indicated, they could not seem to agree on where to go. The long summer vacation had arrived, bringing a cessation of studies, and in the blood of the three chums there was a desire to be doing something.
For several seconds after Jerry Hopkins had announced his willingness to tell his chums of his plan, he remained silent; so long, in fact, that Bob asked:
“Well, what about it, Jerry? Are you, too, thinking of the Seabury girls?”
“Not exactly,” was the answer, accompanied by a short laugh. “I was just considering the best method of presenting the matter to you fellows, so you wouldn’t get on your ears again; that’s all.”
“Punch him, Bob!” cried Ned suddenly. “You’re nearer than I am. The nerve of him! Insulting us like that!”
Bob playfully raised his fleshy fist with the intention of thumping Jerry in the side, but the other, with a quick motion, snapped a pebble from his thumb, and the little stone struck Bob on the end of the nose, causing him to wince.
“Ouch! Quit that!” the stout lad cried.
“That was just my way of calling the meeting to order,” declared Jerry. “I’m ready to proceed, now. My plan would be to make as long a trip as possible. It would be something of a record to fly from here to, say, Kansas or Colorado.”
“Why not to Arizona while you’re about it,” put in Bob, still rubbing his nose in a reflective manner. “Then we could see if Jim Nestor is giving us our share of the gold from our mine, though, of course, I only said that last for a joke,” he added hastily.
“You couldn’t make Arizona on one supply of gasolene,” objected Ned.
“Who said we could?” fired back Bob. The spirit of contention was not yet stilled, so Jerry hastened to add:
“Of course, it wouldn’t be possible to make anything like as long a trip as that without coming down, but I calculated on that. We won’t try for speed, only for distance. The reason I proposed the West is that this season of the year is best for going out there: the prevailing winds are more favorable, and I think we would enjoy it immensely. Of course it is nice down South, and, as for Canada, I have heard that it is fine there in the summer, but if you left it for me to decide, I’d say let’s take the Comet and go West.”
“All right,” agreed Bob, whose usual good spirits had returned. “I’m willing. West it shall be,” and he looked inquiringly at Ned, who was not the one to hold out against his two chums.
“I’m willing,” he announced. “We’ll get the Comet ready for a long Western trip—across the Rocky Mountains if necessary. We’ll have a fine——”
Ned’s remarks were suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a small lad who rushed across the lawn toward where the three chums were sitting under the tree. The newcomer was much excited. His hat had fallen off, one cuff was all awry, and his hair was tousled, while his cheeks were flushed.
“I—say!” he cried, brokenly, not pausing in his rush. “I—just—came past—the shed—where you—keep your airship. It’s terrible—door broken open—lock smashed—things scattered all about—watchman not there—airship gone!” The little lad had to pause for breath.
“The airship gone!” exclaimed Jerry, leaping to his feet, an example followed by Ned and Bob. “What do you mean, Andy Rush? Is this a joke?”
“No joke at all—airship’s gone—I saw the vacant shed,” and Andy Rush sank down on the grass, completely exhausted by his run, and his rapid talk, which latter was characteristic of him, by nature as well as by name.
“Did you see it go?” cried Bob.
“No, I didn’t see it go—but it was gone when I came past,” answered the excitable little chap.
“Who took it?” demanded Bob, clenching his fists, as if he wanted to attack some one.
“Don’t know!” gasped Andy. “But—it’s gone. First—I thought—you fellows—had it out, but when—I came up here—and saw you sitting down—I knew it—wasn’t you. But it’s gone!”
“Come on, fellows!” commanded Jerry quickly. “Let’s see what’s up.”
Followed by Andy they hurried off toward the shed where the Comet was kept. This structure was some distance away from Jerry’s house. It had been specially built to house the airship, and was located in the midst of a large field, owned by Mrs. Hopkins, which field gave ample room for manœuvring the craft. It was some distance from a road, and in an unfrequented locality.
It did not take long to arrive at the place. Before they reached the shed they could see that the big doors were opened. So far Andy’s tale had been confirmed. A few minutes later the motor boys were staring into the empty shed. The big air craft was gone!
“It’s been stolen, boys!” exclaimed Jerry, as he stepped into the shed. “Our airship has been stolen!”
“And I’ll wager Noddy Nixon had a hand in it!” added Bob. “Let’s get right after him!”