"You are sure of that, Tommy?"
"Sure as shootin'. What's up? Why that 'Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman' scowl, old dear?"
"Nothing, except that your information confirms me in my suspicion that Marks and Schoeffleur signaled to that pilot when he went over."
"'And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
That one small head could carry all he knew,'"
contributed Benson in mock amazement.
Up from the corral floated a chorus of men's voices singing:
"'Wait and worship while the night
Sets her evening lamps alight
Thro' all the sky.'"
CHAPTER XI
Courtlandt's fine brow puckered in a thoughtful crease as he waited in the living-room of the Double O for Jerry the next evening. Benson, on the arm of a chair, bent forward to get the light from the lamp on the book he had picked up. Through the open windows came the scent of pine and dewy fields, the murmur of the distant stream as it thundered and rippled its never-ending triumphal march to the sea, the occasional soft lowing of cattle.