“Well,” Carl said rather excitedly, in a moment, “you may keep your precious disposition, for here comes our barrel of gasoline!”
“You must have been reading a dream book!” exclaimed Ben.
“Honest!” shouted Carl. “If you’ll take a squint up there to the north, you’ll see the Ann come poking back! If you don’t believe that is the Ann with Havens on board, just observe the signals in sight.”
“I guess that’s the Ann all right,” Ben returned. “I hope she’s got full tanks of fuel. We need a lot right now.”
The great flying machine came winging south at a great rate of speed, and finally, after circling the peak several times, volplaned down to the Bertha. The boys sprang forward to greet Havens, but drew back in a moment for the aviator was a man they had never seen before.
The machine was the Ann, sure enough but she was in the hands of two men who were total strangers to the boys. They were slender, dark fellows, with oblong eyes and low foreheads.
“The Bertha?” asked one of the men in almost perfect English, stepping close to the machine. “You seem to have met with an accident.”
“It’s the Bertha all right,” Ben answered, “and we’re out of gasoline.”
“And where is the Louise?” asked the other.
“Off on a scout somewhere,” was the indefinite reply.