eventually, I'll work out something on that order. But I hope I
may get something better."

"You haven't delved much into chemistry, have you?"

"No. And I wish now that I had. I see my limitations and
realize my weakness. But I can brush up a little on my chemistry.
As for the mechanical part, that of dropping the extinguisher on
the blaze, I'm not worrying over that end."

"No," agreed Ned. "You have enough types of airships to be able
to select just the best one for the purpose. But, say, Tom!" he
suddenly cried, "why not ask him to help you?"

"Who?"

"Mr. Baxter. He's a chemist. And though he says his formulae
are about dyes and fireworks, maybe he can put you in the way of
inventing a chemical solution that will be death to fires."

"He might," Tom agreed. "But I think he'll be out of business
for some time. This shock--being overcome by smoke and his secret
formulae having been stolen--seem to have affected his mind. I
don't know that I could depend on him."

"It's worth trying," declared Ned. "What do you suppose he
means, Tom, saying that Field and Melling stole his formulae?"

"Haven't the least idea. I only know those fireworks firm
members slightly, if at all. I'm not sure I'd recognize them if I