Among the several satisfactory results of their reunion with the colonel, one bobbed up that very afternoon, when Lieutenant Hume stated that a new lot of machines were to be set up and jockeyed, and, as nearly all of the aviators had gone with the last shipment, the boys could take a turn in the air every day, if they so desired.
“If they desired!” Did thirsty ducks need a second invitation to visit a pond?
As there were no double-deckers, or biplanes, in the fresh invoice, Billy and Henri were to work separately in the war monoplanes, those with the birdlike wings and curved tail rudder piece, the smaller birds that whirred and whined.
Two of these machines had been carefully groomed and set in order for an early morning flight, and the boys retired with all the assurance in the world that they could give the helpers such a practical illustration of scientific planing that there would remain no doubt in the minds of these groundlings as to the merit and right of the newcomers’ promotion.
Silence reigned in the house of canvas, and no hostiles to guard against, sentinels were not stationed, and only occasional inspection required during the night.
It was midnight. Stealthy hands parted the flaps of the entrance to the big tent, and a stocky figure, but light-footed, darted across the floor of hardened clay to the stalls where the monoplanes were set for motion.
An electric light tube flashed into a box of tools, and the intruder was speedily operating with a chisel at the propeller end of the monoplane, in which was placed the repair kit, numbered 16—charged in the hangar record to one Billy Barry.
The furtive visitor, apparently satisfied that he had accomplished his purpose, replaced the chisel and closed the tool box. He took the further precaution of picking up every chip or shaving that had dropped during the use of the chisel edge. Then, with a final sweep of the electric tube, the stocky shape flitted through the canvas door into outer darkness.
Would that there was some warning word in dreamland to sound in the ear of sleeping Billy Barry. An assassin hand had set a death trap with cunning intent to conceal the peril therein until a moment too late to baffle the devilish design!