“Can’t you build another?” asked Dick.
“Oh, I guess so,” Teddy replied. “I plan to, of course, if I get into the gas motor class. But first I want to find this dandy little plane that’s lost. I wish I hadn’t wound those rubber bands so tight.”
“Still, you know what your plane can do when it has to,” comforted Dick.
“I never saw a better flight,” added Joe. “I thought for a while it was going to soar right over the woods.”
“I wish it had,” murmured Teddy. “Then it wouldn’t be down in the gully.”
“Are you sure it’s there?” asked Joe.
“Can’t tell,” Teddy replied. “We’ll have to scout around and look. Say,” he went on as the three boys were fairly within the woods, “this is going to be pretty tough going. I shouldn’t make you fellows scramble through this underbrush with me to search for my lost plane.”
“Forget it!” advised Joe.
“That’s what we’re here for,” declared Dick.
The woods adjoining Mason’s meadow, owned by the same man, were dense and dark. Tall pines and other evergreen trees made the forest dark on even a bright, sunny day. The woods were not on level ground, as was the grassy plain. Part of the patch where the trees and brush grew was level enough. But beyond that area the woods sloped down quite a hill and a section of the woodlot lay in a deep ravine or gully.