“We are advising all pilots in the hunt to wait until the storm is over,” he said. “The sky looks bad, and the weather report is unfavorable.”
Linda frowned and opened the lunch box which Anna had packed.
“You really think it is dangerous?” she asked, looking up at the clouds.
“We certainly do. Those clouds mean a thunderstorm.”
“Oh, what do we care?” demanded Amy, as she hastily ate a sandwich. “It didn’t stop the others, did it?”
“No. But they were here a little earlier, before the skies were so black.”
“How many?” inquired Linda.
“Three. Two Moths and an Avian.”
“Tom Hulbert and Frank Lawlor—and—and Dot!” cried Linda. So Dot Crowley had caught up to them and had beaten them! Funny, they hadn’t seen her plane go past. But perhaps she was flying higher.
“Then we’ll have to go, too,” Linda decided, rather recklessly for her. “We’ll eat while you put in some gas.”