another. "They don't lift up like no balloon—they sail like a bird, on them canvas wings."
"Wot makes the thing go, Job?"
"Them wooden things. They go 'round like windmills."
"Say, we want some information and we want it quick!" cried Dick. "Have any of you seen a big auto go through here, an enclosed auto—one with a coach-like body?"
"Sure we did!" cried one of the villagers. "By heck! the thing nearly killed Si Levering, it did! Si was crossin' the road, when whizz! bang! shoo! that auto went past him like a streak o' greased lightnin'! Si jumped back an' sit hisself down in the waterin' trough an' got hisself all wet."
"Which way did the auto go?" went on Dick.
"Right straight ahead."
"No, it didn't nuther," put in a farmer, who had just arrived in the village. "It took the road to Shepleytown—I see it."
"Which is that?" questioned Tom.
"You go up this road about a mile an' then take the cross road to the left. You can't miss it, 'cause there's a big tree on the corner that was struck by lightnin'."
"All right, we'll go to the corner that was struck by lightning," said Tom, who could not help joking, even in that moment of anxiety.
