“Average speed between Norwalk and Webster for ninety-five miles, two and eight-tenths miles a minute,” called Buck excitedly.
“Great,” cried Bob. “We’ve jumped four-tenths of a mile. It was two and a half on the first leg to Norwalk.”
Buck was again listening.
“He says we should have been over Webster at six minutes after three and that we’re eight minutes late,” he repeated.
“It’s fifty miles to Woburn,” volunteered Bob, consulting a memorandum book into which he had copied the land parts of their early flight. “Look out for old Bunker Hill when we get to Woburn. Boston’ll lie ten miles abeam on the starboard.”
A few minutes later observer Osborne came down the ladder and confirmed jubilantly what Buck had reported. He also told Bob and Buck for the first time of Ned’s nervousness and how he was then resting in the state room above.
“That’s good,” commented Bob. “I think his leg hurt him a good deal worse than he let on.”
“Don’t bother about that stool for him,” went on Roy. “Alan and I’ll take the wheel. Ned can sit in on my trick at the desk.”
“But it’s ready,” explained Buck pointing to an empty tin provision box to which he had lashed a camp stool. “And you and Alan can’t keep awake till to-morrow afternoon!”
Roy only smiled and turned to the hooks in the store room on which were hung extra clothing. Selecting an aviator’s close fitting hood he put it on and adjusted it about the neck.