The pilot was regarding them with a wide grin. “At least I gather that you accept my proposition?”
“Of course,” Bruce said. “Where do we meet your mechanic?”
“There is a thick wood this side of the airport, do you know it?”
Gale nodded. “We picnic there sometimes.”
“There is an old deserted spring house there. Stubby should be there about nine o’clock,” the pilot said consulting his wrist watch. “It is now eight. Can you make it in an hour?”
“We’ll take our bicycles,” Gale said eagerly.
“What does he look like, your mechanic?” Bruce asked. “How will we know him?”
“When you meet a man,” Brent Stockton said, “ask him the time. If he says seven o’clock by the stars, ask him how long he has been there. He will say three days come Friday. He will probably ask you if you have anything for him.”
“Are you sure he will be there?” Gale asked.
“Stubby will be there,” the pilot answered confidently. “Tell him he must not, under any circumstances, try to communicate with me. He is to go to the hangar at the airport and start work on the Silver Arrow, that is my racing plane,” he explained. While he had been speaking he was rolling the plans up into a tight packet. This he now handed to Bruce. “You are guardian of the treasure now,” he said smiling.