After talking together in whispers for a moment, as the acrid smell of powder drifted out into the sweet air of the valley, the men turned questioning looks toward the boys. From the youthful faces their eyes soon roved to the two aeroplanes not far away.
There was more whispered talk, and then the two stepped over to the Louise and began a careful and rather impertinent inspection of the motors. The boys looked on angrily but said nothing.
“Rather fine machines you have there,” one of the fellows said, after the deliberate examination had been completed.
“We think so!” Ben answered shortly.
“Where are you from?” asked the other intruder.
Ben gave Jimmie and Carl a sly nudge to remain silent and answered the question in a manner which, while the exact truth, did not reveal the starting place.
“Denver,” he said.
The fellow bent down and read the names of the machines from little silver plates screwed to the frames.
“The Louise and the Bertha,” he said. “It appears to me that I have heard something of these aeroplanes before.”
“The names are common enough,” Ben answered.