That they were closely guarded was impressed by a continuous shuffle of slippered feet throughout the night before the door of their sleeping apartment.
“How about your get-away?” whispered Canby.
Macauley turned over in his cot, with a grunt. He was not ready, apparently, with any definite plan of action.
Billy and Henri were doing some thinking on their own account. They, too, had yet to realize upon any brilliant idea of forming.
They, however, found in the morning a line of labor cut out for them, and that was an overhauling of the Turkish aeroplane stock in the improvised aerodrome—quite a variety, but rather short in number and condition, the real quality of the collection being machines forwarded from Germany.
Then it was that Billy expressed a decided liking for Turkish attire, and he had a reason for that, with Henri as his sole confidant. The latter, it is needless to detail, also took immediate notion to a Moslem masquerade.
Billy’s next move was to request the assistance, in the old bazaar structure, of the two British scouts, for “heavy work,” as he explained it, and the boy had to hold his sides, so mirth-provoking was the first appearance of the Britons in Oriental pick-me-ups, something the worse for former wear.
Carrying on in amusement, Billy delivered an address to the “apprentices,” for the benefit of the real Turks standing around, in which he advised: “There is a wise saying I have heard spoken here, ‘Luck is infatuated with the efficient;’ now hustle and see if luck likes you.”
Macauley shook a fist at Billy in mock anger, while Canby made a fearful face at the laughing lad.
The Britons were quick to fathom the design of the young aviators in getting all of them into disguise.