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
bully.

"I don't think we're going to tell," chuckled 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. Bless my shoelaces! but
it's a relief to be able to talk as you like."