“She’s decorated like a Christmas tree,” Bob laughed. “Somebody’s coming to our party.”
“Somebody is a lucky guy if he owns that machine,” Jim gasped in admiration. The motor had stopped and the beautiful plane was dropping lightly into the clear space only a few feet away from the house. With one impulse the boys leaped across the veranda, slid over the frozen snow, and stopped at the same moment the plane did. Then they stared at the stranger, and at length, stared at each other.
“There isn’t anyone in her,” exclaimed Jim incredulously. They were standing by the fuselage, the cock-pit had a special transparent cover, but no one was seated before the controls.
“See in the back.” There were two cock-pits, the machine was a four-passenger, or three-passenger beside the pilot, and the Flying Buddies walked around her, but the back was as empty as the front. They even glanced at the rigging expecting to discover someone hanging on, but not a soul did they see.
“Tell you what, bet somebody lost her. Remember, that’s the way our plane came down, or it came something like that,” Bob declared.
“Sure. Well, we can soon find out about her. Gosh, isn’t she a beauty, Buddy!”
“Boys, bring your guest inside,” Mom called from the veranda. “You haven’t your big coats on.”
“Be with you in a minute,” Bob answered.
“By George, she looks as if she might have been made for Lindbergh.” It took them only a moment to find a pair of small latches on the outside of the cock-pit cover, but before they lifted it, Bob exclaimed.
“I say, if anyone jumped out of this he was mighty particular to close the roof after him.”