"How do you make that out, Andy?"

"Simply because I was using the little patent Bird monkey-wrench last in
our shop, and should have put it back in the toolbox belonging to the
aeroplane. The fact that it isn't here shows that I mislaid it. Give me
a bad mark, Frank."

"Well, I must say it's a queer stunt for you to forget anything, Andy
Bird. But with dark coming along, and home some miles away, it's plain
that we'll have to let the mending of that wing go till morning."

"But do you think, Frank, it's just safe to leave our pet hydroplane
over night in this field on the Quackenboss farm?"

"Why not, Andy? Sky as clear as a bell; little or no wind promised; and
then we can hire the farm hand, Felix Boggs, to keep an eye on it. Looks
as easy as falling off a log."

"And all because I didn't put that little wrench where it belonged!
Kick me, won't you, please, cousin; I deserve it."

"Well, I guess not. Didn't I make just as bad a break last week? I guess
now, no boy's perfect. And I don't mind the walk home a bit. Fact is, it
ought to do us both good, because we don't stretch our legs enough, as
it is."

"You're the boss chum, Frank!"

"Then you're another. See what you get for calling me names. But when
you've fastened down that plane so it can't get into trouble, if the