“Thanks,” she smiled. “Now, you gentlemen want to plan about what to do with Joyce and Co., and Bill and I have some gas to buy and a plane to fly home. So I’ll say au revoir for the present!”
Chapter XVII
THE TEST
On a morning some three months later, the private flying field on the Bolton place was the mecca of a considerable portion of New Canaan’s population. The ridge road and the surrounding meadows were jammed with cars that flaunted license plates of a dozen different states. Although the December sun shone brightly in a cobalt sky, the crowd shivered and stamped on the frozen ground for the winter air was icy. All eyes were turned upward toward an airplane, high above their heads, which swept the sky in immense, horizontal circles.
A small group of people bundled in heavy fur coats stood and chatted by the open doors of the hangar.
“I almost wish they’d come down,” said George Conway. “They must be half-dead for want of sleep, and they’ve already beaten the world’s record by hours. It must be a terrific strain, especially for Dorothy.”
“Oh,” cried Betty Mayo. “Isn’t she marvelous?—and Bill, too!”
“They’re a pair of young idiots!” growled old Mr. Lewis, whose false teeth were chattering. “But I must admit they’re first class sportsmen to stay up all this time for a friend!”
“You said it.” declared Terry Walters, and glanced at his wrist watch. “In exactly one minute, they’ll have been up one hundred and one hours, without refueling. Gosh, it’s wonderful! That motor of your father’s is some humdinger, Stoker!”
“Why, it’s simply adorable!” Betty was brimming over with excitement. “And I just can’t help being glad that that horrid Mr. Joyce and his men are being sent to Sing Sing for years and years and years! It’s too—”
“Here they come!” The crowd yelled and roared and swarmed toward the roped-off enclosure.