CHAPTER XXI.
SAVED BY SEAPLANES.
The boy pilots completed their many hours of trying vigil at the wheels of the largest aeroplane ever built by guiding the immense craft to housing place on the shore, and in the first night period of relaxation were drowsily dead to the world.
“We’ll be twisting the heads off one another if we lie this close,” jollied Billy, when his chum and himself rolled into blankets on the verge of dreamland, “for I’m still bow-legged in the arms from holding those spokes, and the motion won’t leave me.”
This humor was lost on Henri, for he had gone over the border, and no return until next sunrise.
No need to awaken the youngsters from the eight hours of slumber due them, for the morning will do well enough for an interesting discovery coming their way.
Anticipating this awakening and a grand surprise, however, it may be stated that among the operators of the war-planes identified with the superdreadnaught “Warspite,” then lying off Tenedos island, were a couple of airmen of some renown along the coast of the North Sea. They answered to the names of the Leonidas Johnson, with complimentary title of captain, and Josiah Freeman, one time of Boston, U. S. A.
Then, again, in the British submarine E-14, even then returning from a reconnoissance in the Dardanelles mine field, there was a sailor lad from Dover, Jimmy Stetson, surely remembered in the live days when our Young Aeroplane Scouts were campaigning in France and Belgium.
Stirring times in front when these time-tried, powder-burned excitement seekers get together once more!
Lieutenant Moppa was exhibiting the fine points of the “Sikorsky” to a group of British naval officers and war-plane experts when Billy and Henri sauntered in that direction, sound sleep and a good breakfast having restored them to normal condition.
Something that the Russian said caused a turning of all eyes upon the approaching lads.