“Contact,” Bob responded.
“Fore,” bellowed Jim.
Presently they were in the cockpits, the engines roared merrily, it was great to hear them singing smoothly after the long silence and the Buddies waved at each other. The helicopter started first, ran a few rods, then lifted almost vertically and when it was off the ground, Bob’s machine started taxiing swiftly, curved, its nose went up gracefully, then it began to climb, zooming swiftly until it reached the elevation Jim had attained. That done the boys smiled with satisfaction, circled about the spot in wide turns only climbing slightly. They took in the entire location, including the site of the ancient ruin, and after several minutes, Austin caught sight of Mills standing near the fallen stone. They saw the man stare up at them as if their presence in the sky puzzled him, then he bent over the ground and crouched out of sight, as if afraid.
Having ascertained his whereabouts, the two planes climbed again and when they were well in the ceiling, they leveled off, pointed their noses toward the sea, and with courses set, raced at high speed toward their goal. Mills’ plane proved to be a faster machine than the Canadian Mountie’s, but it gave a very good account of itself.
They had been flying nearly fifteen minutes when suddenly Jim spied a plane circling high in the distance. It banked, dipped, turned and came rushing toward them, the British insignia showing plainly on the fuselage. Soon it drew close and the Flying Buddies could see two men in her, one with a glass to his eyes, and in a moment the man waved; it seemed as if he were jumping up and down in the cock-pit, and the boys grinned widely as they realized that he was probably some airman who had spent long anxious hours in search of them. With a wave of his hand the pilot circled about them, then zoomed up, and shot forward at top speed toward the barracks airdrome.
“He’s taking word in,” Jim said to himself. It was wonderful to be going back to them, those kindly Britishers whose tongue and ideals were nearly like the Americans.
The little plane quickly outdistanced the boys and presently was only a speck on the horizon, but it seemed to Austin, even though the machine was swallowed up in the afternoon sunlight, there remained a bit of the nation’s color in the heavens to signify that its fine men were ready to lend a hand, take a fair share of dangers, and understand. Jim felt as if it had been years since he and Bob had taken off from the smooth run-way, watched the soldiers and people of the town wave after them, the cheers carrying on even above the roar of the machine. Since then the Flying Buddies had contacted with an entirely different sort of creature; it was rather like being dragged through miles of clinging, slimy mud, and what he wanted most of all at that moment was a good bath, but he didn’t expect there was water enough in the world to rid them of the unwholesome association of Lang and his gang. Then he saw Bob pointing west of them and glanced in that direction. There were two other tiny specks which also zipped about and came rushing toward them swiftly as an arrow shot from a strong shaft. The boys slackened their own speed, and presently the two planes were racing along beside them, and then Bob guessed that the man at the controls was Bradshaw and his companion was Allen Ruhel. With a slight wave of the hand and a brief acknowledgement the three machines roared through the heavens. They were joined by one other plane, and an hour after leaving Mills at the ancient ruin, they were gliding down gracefully, while it looked to the boys as if everyone in the province had assembled to welcome them and learn what had happened. Soon the helicopter’s wheels hit the ground, ran a short distance and stopped. Dozens of men came rushing to the side of the cockpit.
“Where have you been—”
“Are you hurt?”
“What happened to you?”