"I guess we'll
have to get one of these fellows to twirl the propellers for us,
Ned," he added. "I didn't think, or I'd have brought the self-
starting machine," for this one of Tom's had to be started by
someone turning over the propellers, once or twice, to enable the
motor to begin to speed. On some of his aircraft the young
inventor had attached a starter, something like the ones on the
newest autos.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ned, as Tom looked to the
priming of the cylinders.
"I'm going to get on the trail of Peters," he said. "He's at the
bottom of the whole business; and it's a surprise to me. I'm going
to trail him right down to the ground now, and make him give up
Mr. Damon and his fortune,"
"But you don't know where he is, Tom."
"I'll find out. He isn't such an easy man to miss--he's too
conspicuous. Besides, if he's just left in his auto we may catch
him before he gets to Shopton."
"Do you think he's going there?"
"I think so. And I think, Ned, that he's become suspicious and
will light out. Something must have happened, while he was
telephoning, and he got frightened, as big a bluff as he is. But
we'll get him. Come on! Will you turn over the propellers, please?
I'll show you how to do it," Tom went on to a big, strong man
standing close to the blades.
"Sure I'll do it," was the answer. "I was a helper once at an
airship meet, and I know how.
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