"I don't understand you, I must say."
"You will later on. We'll drive up to that farmhouse yonder."
"Yes, and what then?"
"We'll borrow two shovels."
"Two shovels!"
"That's what I said."
"But what on earth have two shovels to do with stopping a bunch of kids
from entering in an aeroplane race?"
"Carlos, your brain is dull to-day."
"It would take a wizard to understand what you intend to do."
"Well, you will see later on. Drive in this gate. That's it, and now
for the shovels."
CHAPTER XIX.
THE TRAP.
For more than half an hour eager inquiries were made in Millbrook for a
spark plug such as they wanted. But all their search was to no avail.
But suddenly, just as they were about to give up in despair, a man, of
whom they had made inquiries, recalled that not far out of town there
was a small garage.
"We'll try there," determined Jimsy.
Finding out the road, they speeded to the place. It did not look very
promising, a small, badly fitted up auto station, run by an elderly
man with red-rimmed, watery eyes, looking out from behind a pair of
horn spectacles that somehow gave him the odd look of a frog.
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