Directly the whirr of the motors came louder, and the boy saw the bulk of an aeroplane outlined against the field of stars above.
It was quite evident that the stranger was seeking a place to land, and Ben, resolving to take the initiative, hastened out into the field swinging an electric searchlight.
“Now,” he thought, “we’ll see if this fellow wants to meet us face to face, or whether he wants to sneak about in the darkness in order to work mischief to our machines.”
After the boy had waved his searchlight for a moment a shout came from above, and a machine every bit as large and as finely finished as the Louise came volplaning down to the field.
The rubber-tired wheels had scarcely ceased revolving in the soft earth when Ben stood by the side of the machine, from which a man of about thirty years—a tall, slender man, with very blue eyes and a very blond head—was alighting.
“Hello, son!” the man exclaimed, as he came up to where the boy was standing, “are you out on a trip for your health, too?”
“That’s about the size of it,” answered Ben.
“Where from?” was the next question asked.
“New York city,” was the reply.
“Good old town!” exclaimed the stranger, walking toward the fire as if inclined to make himself quite at home.