ter is, Andy, they have
dropped off a lot of their speed, and that's how we covered space
quicker."

"Something gone wrong with Percy's new Gnome engine, then, has it; and
he blew his horn so about what wonders it was going to do? Huh!" and
Andy chuckled in his boyish delight.

"No, I don't believe that is the reason they've slackened their speed,
Andy."

"Trying to save gasolene, then?" pursued the other.

"Hardly that, either, Andy."

"Oh! now I see what you mean, Frank; the poor old greenhorn's got cold
feet, and is making Casper slow down. He thinks that there's less chance
of a tumble if the speed is reduced; just as if that could make any
particular difference."

"I reckon you're away off yet," persisted Frank.

"Then, for goodness' sake won't you tell me what they have cut notches
out of their speed for; because I'm all balled up, and blessed if I can
think of another thing! Oh! look at that, Frank! Sure as anything I saw
a puff of smoke then. There must be something the matter with their
engine, and they're getting scared. I wouldn't be surprised a mite to
see them settle right away, and try to land."

"Well, you saw smoke all right, and if you'd listened sharp, you'd have
heard a sassy little bark at the same time, Andy."

"A what, Frank?"

"Call it a snarl, then. Take up your glasses, Andy, and look; while I
drop out even a little more of our speed, so we'll fall back further."

Hardly had Andy clapped the glasses to his eyes than he gave vent to an
exclamation of mingled amazement and alarm.

"That greenhorn is looking this way, Frank, and as sure as goodness he's
pointing at us right now. Oh! he did something then, for I saw another
puff of smoke, and it came right from his hand. Why, he's shooting at
us, Frank! That must be a gun he's got in his hand, and he's trying to
hit us! If our motor didn't keep up such a constant whirl we might have
heard the whine of that lead when it went singing past us!"

"Yes, perhaps we might," Frank went on to say, composedly.

"But what can we do?" demanded the other, nervously.

"Nothing more than decrease our own speed as often as they do, and play
the game of tag backwards. If they get going it too strong, why, just as
I said before, I'll turn tail, and head back toward Bloomsbury, daring
them to follow, which you can be sure they won't, because our town is a
mighty unhealthy place just now for Casper Blue and his pal. There! he
fired again."

"That m