Stubby watched until the bright searchlight could no longer trace them. The blackness of the plane had melted into the blackness of the sky. The mechanic smiled contentedly and made his way to Brent’s private hangar to stand guard over the yellow ship. His boss’ plane had responded to every lightest suggestion of the controls. If everything went as well tomorrow as it had gone in the tests during the last few days there could be no doubt that Brent would win the races and probably sell his patent to the government. So Stubby mused on while he sat in the cockpit of the yellow plane and waited for the return of the Silver Arrow.
Chapter IX
THE RACES
“He flies through the air with the greatest of ease,” sang Carol lustily as she and her friends watched the take-off of a stunt pilot.
Phyllis sat on the running board of David’s car and looked around.
“But I don’t see anything of Gale or Brent Stockton,” she observed.
“They must be here somewhere,” Valerie declared. “Where’s Bruce?”
“In the hangar probably,” Janet answered. “There is what’s his name—Stubby.”
“Hi, there,” David called. “Where is Mr. Stockton?”
Stubby approached them, a worried frown on his face.
“You don’t look very happy. Has someone smashed the Silver Arrow?” Peter Arnold inquired.