"Whether it's a bird or not, it's got wings," said Carl. "But if those feathers are as long as Herb said they were it can't be an eagle."
"Don't care nohow," responded Fly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets with an air of dejection as he rose to his feet. "Hawke maybe can't be back this summer. Didn't even have a chance to say good-bye to the B. P. bunch. And mother just won't let me run the plane alone. Aw, I'm going home," he continued thoroughly disgusted. "Good night."
"Wait a minute—here comes your father," said Fred.
"Just got a letter from Hawke," announced Mr. Giles, walking up to the veranda.
"What does he say?" exclaimed Fred eagerly, the faces of all the boys brightening at once. A faint hope of the aviator's early return sprang into their minds.
"Don't get too excited if I tell you," said Mr. Giles mischievously.
This only served to make the boys more anxious, of course.
"Well, he says he thinks Fly's pretty steady and could handle the machine all right alone. So we've decided to let you continue the hunt. We owe it to Phipps anyhow," he added.
"What!" yelled Fly, scarcely comprehending the good news at first.
"Hurray!" shouted several of the boys.