The air service boys had no difficulty in retracing their steps, especially since Tom, with his usual caution, had been careful to remember the spot where the main road was joined by that coming from the country cemetery.
Once again they made their way past the ghostly looking stones.
"I can see our boomer now, Tom!" Jack cried, as if he had been a little afraid that something had happened while they were absent, and that they would find the airplane missing.
"You want to be mighty careful of that stuff," his chum warned him, as Jack stumbled over some unnoticed object, and only retained his balance by a supreme effort.
"That's a fact," mumbled the other. "Especially as there's no more where this lot came from. I attended to that, all right. But here we are, and now to get the holes plugged up."
"At last my time to make use of that little outfit has arrived!" Tom exclaimed. "I've carried it for months, thinking I'd need it badly some day or other. Well, that time is on us, and this repays me for all my trouble. Set that pail down, and be ready to lend a hand, Jack."
He fumbled in a pocket of the body of the plane, producing a small roll, which, upon being opened, disclosed several plugs of soft wood, such as might easily swell if moistened. There was also some wax, the kind fruit growers use in grafting new scions on old trees.
Tom carefully examined one of the holes in order to learn its exact dimensions.
"Just as I expected, it's perfectly round in shape, which makes it easier to plug up," he announced, pleased with his discovery.
A minute later he had fitted one of the wooden pegs in tightly. Then he used the wax, which was just hard enough for his purpose.