A number of specially-made
springs took up the jar.
"Well, we're here!" exclaimed Dick, as they all breathed in relief.
"Now to see what the trouble was."
"And we've got a long walk back home, in case we can't find the
trouble," sighed Innis, for he was rather stout, and did not much
enjoy walking. They had come down several miles from Hamilton
Corners.
"Oh, we'll get her fixed up somehow," declared Dick, with
confidence.
Quite a throng had gathered from the little country hamlet, on the
edge of which the aircraft had descended, and they crowded up about
the Abaris, looking in wonder at her size and strange shape.
Mr. Vardon lost no time in beginning his hunt for the engine
trouble, and soon decided that it was in the gasolene supply, since,
though the tank was nearly full, none of the fluid seemed to go into
the carburetor.
"There's a stoppage somewhere," the aviator said. The fluid was
drawn off into a reserve tank and then the cause of the mischief was
easily located.
A small piece of cotton waste had gotten into the supply pipe, and
completely stopped the flow of gasolene.
"There it is!" cried the aviator, as he took it out, holding it up
for all to see.
"I wonder if anyone could have done that on purpose?" asked Dick,
looking at his chums, reflectively.
"You mean--Larson?" inquired Jack Butt. "He's capable of anything
like that."
"But he wasn't near the machine," said Paul.
"Not unless he sneaked in the barn some night," went on the
machinist, who seemed to have little regard for the former
lieutenant.
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