Prompted by the fancy Harvey took off his cap and swung it round his head, searching the earth below in the hope of catching a response.
“He is so ready to do that sort of thing he ought to reply. As I am carrying two passengers he might not recognize me, but that need not prevent his answering my salutation.”
The solitude remained as unbroken, however, as at “creation’s morn,” and afraid to go any farther, Harvey made a wide curve to the right and began his return.
Although he had not caught a sign of Bohunkus Johnson, he saw others. Two men standing on the bank of the uppermost tributary of the Schroon discharged their guns. They could have done no harm had they been pointed at the aeroplane, for the distance was too great, but the weapons were aimed at nothing and the action was meant as a salute to the navigator of the air. He saw the gray puffs and waved his cap as the only thing he could do by way of acknowledgment. A man paddling up stream in a canoe held the blade motionless and circled his hat, while his two feminine companions waved their handkerchiefs and doubtless said something appropriate to the occasion.
The large white tent to which allusion has been made and which stood on the shore of the small lake, was hardly a mile from the home of Aunt Hephzibah Akers. The young aviator sailed almost directly over it, leaning well to one side and peering downward, but the camp appeared to be deserted. He decided that the campers were off on a tramp or fishing excursion.
From this point to the little patch of ground in front of the home of Gideon Akers, the guide, was so slight a distance that in a minute or so, Harvey spiraled down as gracefully as an alighting bird, on the spot where he had halted before. The women sighed with relief and enjoyment as he helped them to the ground. They were grateful and urged him to spend the remainder of the day at the house.
Harvey would have done so but for the feeling that it would be neglecting the interests of Bunk. Aunt Hep herself had commended his vigorous earnestness, but the question which he asked himself was whether to lay aside his aeroplane at this point or to return to where he had wheeled about when he came back. If he did the latter he would advance that much nearer Bohunkus, but his scrutiny of the ground had not disclosed a suitable spot for landing. He feared he would be caught at a disadvantage and find his machine useless when he needed it the most. He decided upon a compromise. He would leave the aeroplane at the home of Aunt Hep, and since more than half the day remained, press on afoot.
Accordingly he pushed the machine to the rear of the dwelling, where a shed gave shelter to the single cow whenever she was in want of it, and managed to screen the biplane from sight provided no one’s suspicion was drawn to the spot. Then he bade his friends good-bye for the time and started off on a tramp that was destined to bring him an experience of which he little dreamed.