"I've got orders to take it to any place where you want it," answered the section boss, and he looked anything but happy as he made the confession.

"Then you can run it down to Ashton," answered d.i.c.k. "Will you do it right away?"

"I guess so--I'll see," was the answer.

"What do you want me for?" asked the policeman, as he came up.

"I don't believe you'll be needed--now," answered d.i.c.k.

"It's all right, Murphy," put in Jimmy Budley, quickly. "We had a misunderstanding over orders, that's all."

"This young man told me a flying machine had been stolen," said Murphy, and nodded towards Stanley.

"It was a misunderstanding. I wasn't to blame." The section boss turned to d.i.c.k. "I'll get a freight engine to run the car with the machine down to Ashton inside of an hour."

"Very well," answered d.i.c.k. "And be careful that the biplane isn't damaged in unloading."

"She ain't much but kindlin' wood now," and the section boss smiled a trifle.

"Well, the engine is all right--and that's the valuable part of her,"

returned d.i.c.k. "I'll look for her at Ashton in an hour."

"Want to ride down on the flat car with her?"

"I'll see about that."

The matter was talked over, and in the end it was agreed that d.i.c.k and Sam should ride on the flat car, while Tom went with Stanley and Jack Mason in the automobile. Then the section boss went off to get the freight engine to haul the flat car.

"Got out of that better than I expected," whispered Sam to his big brother.

"It pays to put on a front, Sam," was the answer. "If I had been weak-kneed about it that fellow wouldn't have done a thing."

"Oh, you've got a head for business, d.i.c.k--I can see that," said the youngest Rover, admiringly.

"I hope so, Sam--for I think I'll need it soon."

"You mean for helping Dad?"

"Yes,"

"It's too bad he has these weak spells, isn't it?"

"Yes. What he needs, I think, is a good, long rest."

The others went off in the touring auto, and d.i.c.k and Sam made themselves at home on the flat car. Soon a freight engine backed up, the car was attached; and off they started, in company with the section boss and two track laborers, in the direction of Ashton.

As the Rovers could readily see, the Dartaway was a complete wreck, beyond the possibility of being repaired. But the motor looked to be in good order, and the stays and turn-buckles would, of course, be worth something.

When Ashton was reached Sam and d.i.c.k found that the automobile and its party had gotten there ahead of them.

"I've found a place where we can store the biplane--or what's left of it," said Tom. "In that barn," and he pointed to a structure directly beside the tracks.

"Good enough!" cried d.i.c.k. "That will save the trouble and expense of hauling it any distance."

The flat car was stopped in front of the barn, and after some trouble the remains of the biplane were transferred to the structure. Then the section boss brought out a receipt which d.i.c.k signed.

"Next time I move a flying machine I'll make sure that orders are O.

K.," he remarked, grimly.

"It might save a lot of trouble," answered Tom, dryly.

"Tell me--didn't you act on orders from that lawyer, Fogg?"

questioned d.i.c.k, curiously.

"I did--if you want to know."

"I thought so. He's too sharp for his own good."

"You're right--and maybe he'll catch it for this," answered Jimmy Budley; and then he and his men rode away on the flat car, leaving our friends to themselves.

"Well, now you've got the wreckage, what are you going to do with it?"

questioned Stanley.

"Offer it to the folks who build flying machines," answered d.i.c.k.

"I'll write the letters to-night."

With the biplane off their minds, the Rovers rejoined their friends in the automobile, and took a run through the country for fifty miles or more. They stopped at a country hotel, and there d.i.c.k treated to cake, ice cream and other refreshments.

The letters to the flying machine manufacturers brought various replies. Several did not care to buy the wreckage at all, while others offered a ridiculously low price.

"This doesn't look encouraging," was d.i.c.k's comment. "Boys, I guess we'll have to pocket our share of the loss."

The next day, however, came another letter, one from a young aviator of Worcester. He wrote that he had heard that they had the wreckage for sale and if it was still on the market he would come and look at it.

"Maybe he'll give us a little more than those manufacturers offer,"

said Sam, hopefully.

The letter was answered, and the young aviator came on the next day, going first to inspect the remains of the Dartaway and then coming up to the college.

"Pretty well smashed," said he, to the Rover boys. "About all that is good is the motor and fittings."

"But that engine is a dandy," said Tom.

"How much do you want for the outfit as it stands?"

"I don't know," answered d.i.c.k. "The biplane cost us about three thousand dollars."

"Yes, but she's a complete wreck. All I can use is the engine--and maybe a few other things."