back of him, he pointed out the way
to detach the gyroscope and put a sort of brake on it that stopped its
revolutions almost instantly. "It's a ticklish job to change in the
air," he shouted. "It can be done, but it's safer to land and do it."

The flight was soon over, and we stood admiring the machine while Norton
expatiated on the compactness of his little dynamo.

"What have you done with the wrecks of the other machines?" inquired
Kennedy at length.

"They are stored in a shed down near the railroad station. They are just
a mass of junk, though there are some parts that I can use, so I'll ship
them back to the factory."

"Might I have a look at them?"

"Surely. I'll give you the key. Sorry I can't go myself, but I want to
be sure everything is all right for my flight this afternoon."

It was a long walk over to the shed near the station, and, together
with our examination of the wrecked machines, it took us the rest of the
morning. Craig carefully turned over the wreckage. It seemed a hopeless
quest to me, but I fancied that to him it merely presented new problems
for his deductive and scientific mind.

"These gyroscopes are out of business for good," he remarked as he
glanced at the dented and battered aluminum cases. "But there doesn't
seem to be anything wrong with them except what would naturally happen
in such accidents."

For my part I felt a sort of awe at the mass of wreckage in which Browne
and Herrick had been killed. It was to me more than a tangled mass of
wires and splinters. Two human lives had been snuffed out in it.

"The engines are a mass of scrap; see how the cylinders are bent and
twisted," remarked Kennedy with great interest. "The gasoline-tank is
intact, but dented out of shape. No explosion there. And look at this
dynamo. Why, the wires in it are actually fused together. The insulation
has been completely burned off. I wonder what could have caused that?"

Kennedy continued to regard the tangled mass thoughtfully for some time,
then locked the door, and we strolled back to the grand stand on our
side of the field. Already the crowd had begun to collect. Across the
field we could see the various machines in front of their hangars with
the men working on them. The buzz of the engines was wafted across by
the light summer breeze as if a thousand cicadas had broken loose to
predict warm weather.

Two machines were already in flight, a little yellow Demoiselle,
scurrying around clo