For a few moments after their exclamations1 of surprise Tom and Mr. Damon did not know what else to say. They stared about in amazement2, hardly able to believe that the shed could be empty. They had expected to see some form of aeroplane in it, and Tom was almost sure his eyes would meet a reproduction of his Humming-Bird, made from the stolen plans.
"Can it be possible there's nothing here?" went on Tom, after a long pause. He could not seem to believe it.
"Evidently not," answered Mr. Damon, as he advanced toward the center of the big building and flashed the light on all sides. "You can see for yourself."
"Or, rather, you can't see," spoke3 the youth. "It isn't here, that's sure. You can't stick an aeroplane, even as small a one as my Humming Bird, in a corner. No; it isn't here."
"Well, we'll have to look further," went on Mr. Damon. "I think—"
But a sudden noise near the big main doors of the shed interrupted him.
"Come on!" exclaimed Tom in a whisper. "Some one's coming! They may see us! Let's get out!"
Mr. Damon released the pressure on the spring switch, and the light went out. After waiting a moment to let their eyes become accustomed to the darkness, he and Tom stole to the door by which they had entered. As they swung it cautiously open they again heard the noise near the main portals by which Andy had formerly4 taken in and out the Anthony, as he had named the aeroplane in which he and his father went to Alaska, where, like Tom's craft, it was wrecked5.
"Some one is coming in!" whispered Tom.
Hardly had he spoken when a light shone in the direction of the sound. The illumination came from a big lantern of the ordinary kind, carried by some one who had just entered the shed.
"Can you see who it is?" whispered Mr. Damon, peering eagerly forward; too eagerly, for his foot struck against the wooden side wall with a loud bang.
"Who's there?" suddenly demanded the person carrying the lantern.
He raised it high above his head, in order to cast the gleams into all the distant corners. As he did so a ray of light fell upon his face. "Andy Foger!" gasped6 Tom in a hoarse7 whisper.
Andy must have heard, for he ran forward just as Tom and Mr. Damon slipped out.
"Hold on! Who are you?" came in the unmistakable tones of the red-haired bully8.
"I don't think we're going to tell," chuckled9 Tom softly, as he and his friend sped off into the darkness. They were not followed, and as they looked back they could see a light bobbing about in the shed.
"He's looking for us!" exclaimed Mr. Damon with an inward laugh. "Bless my watch chain! But it's a good thing we got in ahead of him. Are you sure it was Andy himself?"
"Sure! I'd know his face anywhere. But I can't understand it. Where has he been? What is he doing? Where is he building his aeroplane? I thought he was out of town."
"He may have come back to-night," said Mr. Damon. "That's the only one of your questions I can answer. We'll have to wait about the rest, I'm sure he wasn't around the house to-day, though, for I was working at weeding the flower beds, in my disguise as a tramp, and if he was home I'd have seen him. He must have just come back, and he went out to his shed to get something. Well, we did the best we could."
"Indeed we did," agreed Tom, "and I'm ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Damon."
"And we'll try again, when we get more clues.............