The moon had risen above distant peaks and was high enough to make the street dimly lighted.
“Oh, it must be Harry!” Mary whispered excitedly as she clutched Jerry’s arm not knowing that she did so. “That plane is as silvery as a seagull, just as Patsy and Polly wrote us.”
“Wonder why he doesn’t land,” Dick commented.
“I reckon there isn’t but one safe landing place in this town, and that’s right here where the crowd is standing. This square, out front of the post office, has been landed on before now.”
“See! Something’s falling from the plane.” Dora pointed upward. “It’s a small something! What can it be?”
The object fell like a plummet and landed at their feet. “It’s an aluminum bottle. Oh, look! There’s a note attached to it.” Dora picked it up.
“Here comes Deputy Sheriff Goode,” Jerry told the others. “Give it to me! I’ll hand it to him.”
The Deputy Sheriff’s restless horse did not stop prancing while the man opened and read the note. Then he flung it to the ground, pocketing the small bottle.
Dick, feeling sure that the message had not been of a private nature, picked it up and with the aid of his flash he read: “Whirl a lantern, will you, where I’m supposed to land. A. S. H. H.”
“A. S. means air scout, of course,” Dick said.