Real night hawks fly by day as well as by night. It is not unusual to hear and see one as it circles over the city at near noon and calls its loud “Kee-ou.” And at night many a tempting insect, fit for a night hawk’s menu, flutters about the city lights. The name, then, which Isabel had given to the aeroplane was not so inappropriate. “There’s the Night Hawk,” she would say when the droning sound was heard. Whether there was only one plane, which chose this neighborhood for its manoeuvers, or several they did not know.
Greycliff girls were more busily occupied than ever, it seemed. The seniors were practicing and learning parts for the senior play, planning a Collegiate Field Meet with the juniors, preparing for final examinations, paddling, rowing, having beach parties, and rushing out at odd times to see the wood warblers, which were going through or stopping to nest there.
One afternoon about four o’clock, Betty, Isabel and Pauline were over in the meadows which stretched away from the foot of “high hill,” having been lured there by an ever-disappearing warbler, which would sing its little song and then fly to some farther perch. Now the song came from a little clump of bushes and small trees in the center of an expanse of meadow land.
“Oh, I wish it would be a chat,” sighed Isabel.
“It can’t be,” said Betty. “Its song is more like that of a myrtle warbler.”
“If it is a myrtle warbler, after all this chase, I shall be all out of patience,” declared Isabel. “Every other warbler I’ve seen is a myrtle warbler or a chestnut-sided! Hilary has seen ten different kinds already!”
“Listen, girls,” said Pauline, “there’s the plane right over us.”
Betty and Isabel looked up. “The Night Hawk,” said Isabel. “Why, there’s something the matter; it’s coming down!”
“Perhaps it’s just landing,” suggested Betty. “This is a good place.”
Realizing that they might be in the way, they scurried for safety’s sake to the little clump which they had been watching, and stood there to see the aeroplane land.