The work of rescue was not easily accomplished. The boys did not dare attach a rope to the dirigible as there was a chance that the craft would sink at any moment. But by good luck the occupants of the craft had on board a plank which they used in climbing in and out of the airship’s substructure.

This came in useful now. Under Jack’s direction the plank was extended between the two craft and one by one the luckless voyagers of the Sky Eagle were transferred to the Electric Monarch. Great was their wonderment at the surprising craft that had effected their rescue when they had given up all hope.

Greater still was their gratitude to the brave lads who, at the risk of their lives, had followed the ocean air-lanes in search of the missing dirigible.

“We owe our lives to you, lads. I do not know how I can ever thank you,” declared Mr. Morse, the owner of the craft.

In the meantime Henry Tyler, the machinist and engineer of the Sky Eagle, had been staring at Ned Nevins with an amazement that was akin to unbelief.

“Surely you are Ned, Jeptha Nevins’s nephew?” he exclaimed at length.

“Yes, and you are Henry Tyler, his dearest friend!” replied Ned, as the two warmly shook hands.

“So it was the same Tyler after all,” smiled Jack, after they had all been introduced.

“It certainly is a small world,” declared Mr. Morse smilingly. “So this is the lad whose uncle designed this wonderful craft and left him the plans of it! My boy, you have a legacy worth more than a great deal of money.”

“We think so at any rate,” said Ned, smiling at his chums.

“But where in the world have you been hiding yourself?” asked Henry Tyler of Ned Nevins as they prepared to get under way, having transferred a few instruments, and so forth, from the Sky Eagle.

“Why, have you been looking for me?” asked Ned in some surprise.

“Yes, for weeks. But I could obtain no clew to your whereabouts. No one in Millville appeared to know what had become of you.”

“I have been at Nestorville with my two good friends, Jack Chadwick and Tom Jesson. Had it not been for them the Electric Monarch would never have been built,” said Ned, gratefully.

“I wanted to deliver to you a package left in my care by your uncle not long before he died,” said Tyler. “He charged me to give it to you after his death, which, it seemed, he felt was not far off. I have kept it with me always, hoping some time to meet you and now I can at last deliver it into the hands of its rightful owner.”

Ned, with some wonderment, took from Tyler’s hands a long yellow envelope. He had no time to open it just then, for Jack ordered all hands to their posts for the return voyage. They had hardly risen into the air before the Sky Eagle was seen to settle down upon the water with a sliding motion.

Suddenly she gave a swoop downward and the next instant the sea had hidden her from view.

“Good-bye, old ship,” said Mr. Morse, with some emotion, “may you rest well.”

Such was the requiem of the Sky Eagle. As to the manner in which she had become disabled, Mr. Morse explained to the boys that the heat of the sun had burst the bag and that following that disaster the engines had broken down. Helpless, and with the gas leaking from the momentarily enlarging rent, the Sky Eagle drifted rapidly out to sea.

Death stared the voyagers in the face, and they had prepared to meet their fate as calmly as possible when, upon the horizon, they descried, winging her way toward them, the form of the Electric Monarch. Mr. Morse declared that words could not describe their emotions as they sighted the outlines of the rescue ship.

The run back to the shore was made without incident. The boys flew straight for the Fair Grounds, where they were received with what resembled an ovation. Word of their gallant voyage of rescue had leaked out, and the town went wild over them. They surged about the Electric Monarch as she landed and fairly mobbed the boys. Cheers rang out deafeningly, and the band played, at the direction of Captain Sprowl, “Hail to the Chief,” that being the most appropriate tune the old captain could think of.

It was in the midst of all this excitement that a stoutly built, red-faced man came elbowing through the crowd that surrounded the boys and made his way to where they stood in a blushing, embarrassed group.

“Which of you is Ned Nevins?” he demanded.

“Right here,” said Ned, stepping forward. “What do you want?”

“You must come with me,” was the response.

“But why? I——”

“Young man, you are under arrest,” and the red-faced man threw back his coat and disclosed a star.

“Under arrest!” echoed Ned. “What for?”

“For disobeying an injunction of the court. Come with me.”