“Good gracious! He’s killed!” cried Jack, in horrified tones.

“If he is it will be your fault,” shouted Sam, shaking his fist at the two Boy Inventors; “you did it on purpose.”

“Did what on purpose?” demanded Jack rather angrily, climbing out of the car to the ground.

“Why, got in my way and made me lose control of my flying machine,” struck in a new voice.

It was that of Zack, who, at the same moment, crawled out from under the ruins of his queer invention.

He was scratched and shaken, but not injured, as could be readily seen when he stood up.

“I hope you are not badly hurt, Zack,” said Jack, in a mild tone.

Zack’s face was crimson with anger and mortification.

“It’s all your fault!” he roared. “I’ll get even on you. You just see if I don’t.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Tom quietly, “it had nothing to do with us. I guess your machine was no good. That’s what the trouble was.”

“Oh, it was, was it?” sputtered Zack furiously, regarding the remnants of his craft, “well, you just mind your own business. If it hadn’t been for you coming along and spying on me—”

“Spying on you! Well, I like that!” cried Tom, unable to suppress his indignation. “Who was in our shed this morning looking around to see what you could see?”

“Pshaw! A whole lot you could show me,” sneered Zack.

“Or me, either,” struck in Sam, who had descended from his runabout and stood beside Zack. “I tell you what,” he went on, doubling up his fists, “I’ve a good mind to—to—”

“Well, to what?” said Jack, waxing indignant in his turn.

“To sue you for damages or something. Zack and I were partners in that machine, and now it’s all smashed.”

“That was because you expected too much of it,” said Jack quietly. “It was impossible for it to fly, anyway. You have been working on the wrong principle.”

“You mind your own business, Mister Know-it-all,” yelled Zack furiously. “I guess you aren’t the only fellows around here who can invent anything. By rights, I ought to make you pay for the damage you’ve done.”

“Well, just hark at that,” cried Tom, “as if we had anything to do with your old tin hornet collapsing. You were foolish ever to get into it.” Zack could control his fury no longer. He gave a sudden step forward and aimed a vicious blow at Tom. The latter had no wish to get into a fight with Zack, so contented himself with stepping aside. Not landing his blow as he had expected, had the effect of almost throwing Zack from his feet. He saved himself from a tumble only by an effort.

“Look out!” laughed Jack, “you’ll have another tumble if you aren’t careful, Zack.”

“Oh, you make me tired,” grunted the infuriated lad. But he turned away and tried no further hostilities.

“If you want us to, we’ll tow your machine back to town,” volunteered Jack, who felt that there was, perhaps, some excuse for Zack’s anger; “we’re going that way.”

“Then go on, and be quick about it,” shouted Sam furiously. “I guess I can tow the machine in just as well as you fellows.”

“Oh, all right. If that’s the way you feel about it, we’ll be getting on,” said Jack. As he spoke he climbed back into the Flying Road Racer, followed by Tom. He backed the machine away from the wreck and noted, at the same time, that the engine hood had been slightly dented by the impact. But the motor itself was not affected and buzzed away in a lively fashion.

As soon as he had the Flying Road Racer clear of the wreckage, Jack set his lever ahead and the big machine moved off, no further words being exchanged between the cousins and the two boys, who now, clearly enough, chose to regard Jack and Tom as their enemies. As the Flying Racer glided away, Sam, yielding to a sudden impulse of fury, stooped down. He picked up a stone and hurled it with all his might at the two occupants of the land-and-air machine.

Had it struck the mark for which it was intended, the consequences might have been serious. But it whizzed harmlessly by Jack’s ear, avoiding him by a fraction of an inch.

“The coward,” cried Tom wrathfully; “shall we go back and give them a good pummeling?”

Jack shook his head.

“No, leave them alone,” he said. “After all, I’m afraid we didn’t appear to be very sorry over the wreck of that contrivance of Zack’s. He had a right to feel mad, I guess.”

“He was a chump for ever thinking that that thing could fly,” was Tom’s angry contribution to the conversation. He looked back and saw Sam standing in the middle of the road shaking a fist at the retreating Road Racer. Zack was bending over the wreckage examining it with care. The next instant a turn in the winding turnpike shut out the scene from view. But that encounter might have had serious results for our two young heroes in the immediate future, although, at the time, they troubled their minds little over it.

Left alone, Zack and Sam managed to attach the wreck of the “flying” machine to Sam’s auto. Then they set out to tow it back to town on its landing wheels. But they took a roundabout way. Neither of them wanted to display their failure to the prying eyes of the villagers. Fortunately for their plans, Zack’s home was on the outskirts of Nestorville, in which settlement his father had a large store. Sam lived in the town itself, and was the only son of indulgent parents—too indulgent, people said, for old Lem Taylor, who was a banker, grudged his son nothing. The runabout car had been a birthday gift to him a few weeks before, and Zack and he, who were inseparables, had done a lot of riding in it since.

As for Zack, he was more or less the tool of Sam, who had a good deal more evil in his nature than had his crony. The rivalry between Zack and Jack Chadwick and Tom Jesson dated back to the days before the two latter went to Yucatan. At school Zack had tried out several inventions which had been failures. Like many other boys—and men—the success of Jack and Tom had embittered him against them to a degree. Then, too, since their return from their wonderful experiences in the tropics, they had become prominent figures in the village, quite eclipsing himself and Sam.

Zack had hoped that his flying machine would aid in restoring him to his former importance; but now that it was wrecked, this hope was gone. In fact, he dreaded coming in for a lot of joking on that score, for he had been free in his boasts about its marvelous qualities. Altogether, then, neither he nor Sam felt in a very pleasant frame of mind as they towed the debris of the “Flying Hornet”—as Zack had thought of christening his machine—back to his home.

“I’ll bet those kids will tell everybody in town about the smash-up, and we’ll get well laughed at,” grumbled Sam, as he cautiously drove along.

“Bother it all, I guess that’s right,” rejoined Zack. “Just like our luck that they came along when they did. However, I got some ideas from our inspection of their Flying Racer when I looked her over, and we’ll rebuild the Hornet as soon as possible.”

“That’s the way to talk,” said Sam approvingly; “by the way, I wonder what Mr. Peregrine was doing at their home this morning?”

“Looks to me as if some new invention was under way,” hazarded Zack; “wonder what it can be now?”

“I’d like to find out. If only we could, maybe we could get even on them some way for ordering us out of their shed. If we don’t look out those kids will be running this town.”

“That’s what. Tell you what we’ll do—we’ll take a run over to Pokeville in your machine to-morrow, Sam. I know where Mr. Peregrine’s house is. We’ll look around some and see what we can find out. I’m not going to let those kids get ahead of me again if I can help it.”

“Nor I, either,” agreed Sam; “conceited young ninnies! If we can only find out what they are up to with Mr. Peregrine, maybe we’ll find a way.”

It may be as well to say here, as these boys leave our story for the present, that like most bullies, they were cowards, too, and when they heard nothing in town to indicate that Jack and Tom had told of their mishap, they decided to allow all their threats to stand as “bluff,” and to let well enough alone for the immediate future, at least so far as the Boy Inventors were concerned.