Bright and early the next morning the young inventors, and the workmen attached to their “plant,” wheeled out the framework of the Electric Monarch and the business of attaching the wings was begun. It was just half an hour from the time the work began to the moment when the last bolt was in place, and like a huge red and silver butterfly the wonderful craft stood poised ready for flight.

The boys had had but little sleep and their dreams had been of skimming the air or gliding over the surface of the sea. Now, as they stood back and gazed at their completed handiwork, they felt a proud thrill of work well done. Come what might of the trial trip, they felt that they had done their very best.

Only one thing marred their delight at the completion of their long task. Professor Chadwick, who from time to time suffered from severe headaches, would be unable to accompany them on the initial voyage. Instead, one of the workmen, a man named Joyce, was selected to go along.

When everything was in readiness for the start, Jack visited his father’s study. He was in hopes that even at the eleventh hour the Professor might feel well enough to accompany them. He well knew what a disappointment it was to his father to have to remain behind. But Professor Chadwick had been warned by his physician not to risk excitement when suffering from one of his nervous headaches.

Jack found his father lying on a lounge in the library.

“No, Jack, my boy,” he said in answer to the boy’s anxious inquiries, “I’m afraid the trial trip must be made without me. I am under doctor’s orders and cannot disobey them.”

“I wish you could come, father,” replied the boy, “but if everything goes off all right you will have many opportunities to ride in the Electric Monarch. Now, since you can’t come, I am going to entrust to your care the plans and blue prints of the craft.”

“Yes, they will be safer here.”

“I have just brought them from the workshop. See, here they are,” and Jack produced a voluminous roll of papers. “We are responsible to Ned Nevins for the safety of these and we must see that they are looked after carefully.”

“Put them in the safe, my boy, and then give me the combination. If I feel better later on I should like to look them over.”

Jack went to a large wall safe in one corner of the room, opened it and placed the papers within. He then gave the combination to his father on a slip of paper. When this had been done he felt easier in his mind.

“They are safe enough now,” he thought. He mixed his father a draught of medicine and then, summoning a servant, he told her to be ready to answer any call from the library, in which room Professor Chadwick intended to spend the day.

When this had been done Jack felt that further delay would be useless. Bidding his father good-bye, and promising to give him every detail of the trip on his return, the boy hurried out to join his comrades.

It was a cloudless day. There was not a breath of wind to stir the leaves. A better morning for the testing of the Electric Monarch could not have been imagined.

“Well, Tom, we’re all ready, I guess.”

“As ready as we ever will be, Jack. The big moment is due. Everything all right to your mind, Ned?”

“Down to the last nut on the last bolt,” replied young Nevins positively.

“Then we had better climb on board and get ready for the start.”

Joyce, a stalwart, middle-aged mechanic, followed the boys on board the Electric Monarch. They first visited the pilot house. It had already been decided that Jack, on account of his previous experience with aerial craft, was to have the wheel. He gave a last look over the equipment. The next instant he uttered an exclamation of dismay.

“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.

“What’s the trouble, are you sick?” asked Jack, looking down from the pilot house.

“Aber-poof—Poys! You haf missed idt somedings—poof—from der—sheeps?”

“Sheeps?” exclaimed Tom, puzzled.

“He means ship,” exclaimed Jack. “Say, fellows, he knows something about the missing lever. Is that it, Heiny?”

“Ches. Der liver of der sheep iss gone, ain’d idt?”

“It certainly has. Do you know anything about it?”

By this time Heiny had recovered his breath. In a torrent of speech that nothing could stop he rattled off the story of the overheard conversation, of Sam’s treachery and of the way in which he had seemingly fallen in with the conspirators’ plans. Early that morning he had got out of bed and tracked Sam Hinkley to High Towers. He had watched while the treacherous youth had unscrewed the lever and then had followed him through the fields to an abandoned well into which the rascally boy had thrown it. During his narrative, Heiny gave a good description of Hank Nevins and Miles Sharkey, from which Ned had no difficulty in identifying the plotters. The manner in which they had discovered his whereabouts, though, was, of course, a mystery to the lad.

But there was no time to waste just then in discussing the best means of ensuring the punishment of the conspirators. The main desire of all the boys was to get back the lever and be off on the interrupted test. Under young Dill’s guidance the old well was soon found. It was almost filled up with rubbish and it was an easy matter to get the lever out.

“I don’t know how we can reward you for this service,” Jack said to young Dill as they made their way back to the Electric Monarch.

“Dere is an easy vay to do dot,” said the young German, with the air of one who already has his mind made up.

“Well, what is it?”

“Make me der mashed shot of der Elegdrig Monarch.”

“The what?” Jack regarded the lad with a puzzled look. Young Dill had certainly done them a splendid service and Jack, as they all did, wished to reward him for it in some substantial way.

“Der mashed shot—der goot luck—der——”

“Oh, the mascot!” cried Jack.

“Dot’s idt. I make idt a fine mashed shot. I am strong. I am villing. I am an inventor, at large (undt schmall) und——”

“But just what are the duties of a mascot? If I make you one I’d like to be sure you understand them,” said Jack with a wink at his companions.

“Oh, dot vos easy. Der dooties of a mashed shot are to sit in a corner undt keep making a noise like a rabbid’s foot oder a horse’s-boot.”

“Horseshoe, I guess you mean. However, you seem to have a pretty good idea of the job and we can use you, anyhow, I guess.”

“Den I gedt der chob?”

“Yes, you are one of the crew of the Electric Monarch.”

“Hoch! Der Monarch!” shouted Heiny Dill, throwing his funny little “rudder” hat high in the air, “ven do vee start?”

“Thanks to your clever detective work, right away.”