"Not a name. But I'll just take a run down and see what it is. I'll not be long. Much obliged, Dick." The boy who had brought the note turned to leave the house, and Mark prepared to follow. Jack said: "Let me see that note." He scanned it closely, and, as Mark was getting on his hat and coat, for the night was chilly, his chum went on: "Mark, if I didn't know, that we had left Axtell, the crazy machinist, up on Mars, I'd say that this was his writing. But, of course, it's impossible." "Of course--impossible," agreed Mark. "But, there's one thing, though," continued Jack. "What's that?" asked Mark. "I don't like the idea of you going off alone in the dark, to meet a man who doesn't sign his name to the note he wrote. So, if you have no objections, I'll go with you. No use taking any chances." "I don't believe I run any risk," said Mark, "but I'll be glad of your company. Come along. Maybe it's only a joke." And the two lads started off together in the darkness toward the white bridge. CHAPTER III PREPARING FOR A VOYAGE "Seems like rather an odd thing; doesn't it?" remarked Jack, as he and his chum walked along. "What?" "This note." "Oh, yes. But what made you think the writing looked like that of the crazy machinist who tried to wreck the projectile?" "Because I once saw some of the crazy letters he sent us, and he wrote just like the man who gave Dick this note. But come on, let's hustle, and see what's up." In a few minutes they came in sight of the white bridge, which was about a quarter of a mile down the road from the professor's house. The two boys kept well together, and they were watching for a first sight of the man in waiting. "See anything?" asked Jack. "No; do you?" "Not a thing. Wait until we get closer. He may be in the shadow. It's dark now." Almost as Jack spoke, the moon, which had been hidden behind a bank of clouds, peeped out, making the scene comparatively bright. The boys peered once more toward the bridge, and, as they did so, they saw a figure step from the shadows, stand revealed for an instant in the middle of the structure, and then, seemingly after a swift glance toward the approaching chums, the person darted off in the darkness. "Did you see that?" cried Jack. "Sure," assented Mark. "Guess he didn't want to wait for us. Why, he's running to beat the band!" "Let's take after him," suggested Jack, and, nothing loath, Mark assented. The two lads broke into a run, but, as they leaped forward, the man also increased his pace, and they could hear his feet pounding out a tattoo on the hard road. The two youths reached the bridge, and sped across it. They glanced hastily on either side, thinking possibly the man might have had some companions, but no one was in sight, and the stranger himself was now out of view around a bend in the highway.