certainly was knocked out!"

"Oh, I know that. But couldn't some sort of gas have seeped into your
office from your adjoining laboratory? A bottle of acid might have
cracked, or--"

[Illustration: The Mechanics Warmed up the Engines]

"Nothing like that happened. I'm positive, because the same thought
struck me. I made a careful inspection this morning. Everything was in
perfect order."

"It certainly is strange," said Ned. "It looks as if some enemy is
camping on your trail, Tom!"

"He'll have a hard time picking up that same trail in a few minutes,"
chuckled the inventor. "Here come Captain Britten and Dad. I guess we
can take off soon."

[Illustration: "A Bottle of Acid Might Have Cracked."]

"So your sea-goin' air-yacht is ready to cast off, is she?" asked the
old diver. "Well, when ye haul in the gangplank, so to speak, I'll be
aboard!"

"Take care of yourself, son," said Barton Swift, shaking Tom's hand. "I
hope you will be successful in your attempt."

"Good-bye, Dad. And thanks."

"Doan git et up by no sharks or allygators!" cautioned Rad.

[Illustration: "Take Care of Yourself, Son."]

The mechanics had finished their work and were seen climbing down from
the fuselage. The passengers took their places in the roomy cabin while
Tom seated himself behind the controls.

After running a critical eye over the score of instruments he reached
for the throttle and clutched the wheel tighter. The intermittent
coughing of the powerful motors changed to a deafening roar, and the
huge ship lumbered off down the long field, gathering speed every
second.

[Illustration: Tom Sat Behind the Controls]

"We're off!" cried Ned, waving at the already distant figures left
behind.

"And we'll bring home the meteorite!" muttered Tom to himself as the
"Winged Arrow" glided smoothly toward the clouds lining the southern
horizon. "For I'm going to make the most wonderful telescope the world
has ever known!"

[Illustration: "We're off!" Cried Ned]

CHAPTER VIII

TRAPPED BY A SEA MONSTER

"This is travelin' in style, all right," approvingly remarked Captain
Britten, looking about the comfortably appointed cabin and sniffing the
appetizing odor of lamb chops on the electric grill. When necessary, Ned
Newton could cook an impromptu meal. He really was rather proud of his
ability.

[Illustration: Ned Cooked Some Lamb Chops]

As the amateur chef placed the meal on a small, collapsible table, Tom
announc