John Nixon, Major.”
Since Frank knew the handwriting well he could not have any doubt concerning the authenticity of the letter. It happened that he had also seen pictures of the noted French birdman, and they corresponded with the features of the man who had come to them.
If Frank, therefore, had in the beginning entertained the slightest suspicion, it was by now wholly allayed. Sitting there while the newcomer enjoyed a cup of black coffee, they talked in low tones of the contemplated voyage.
It was wonderful to see how calmly they discussed the tremendous possibilities of the great raid by aëroplanes on the enemy’s works. Ten years back, had anyone ventured to affirm that in so short a time scouts would be sailing through the upper currents at the rate of two miles a minute, and even “looping the loop” in a desire to prove their mastery over air, he would have been set down as visionary and a dreamer.
Frank went to the double doors opening on the trestle that ran down to the water and took an observation.
“There is some haze on the sea,” he announced, “but it is rising, and I think we are going to have a fair day for the trip.”
They had made all preparations, so that when the summons came there should be no occasion for unnecessary delay. Knowing that they would find it bitterly cold far up among the clouds while moving at high speed, all of them were careful to don the warmest clothing possible. As they wandered about the interior of the hangar they resembled mummies to some degree; but appearances count for little with the venturesome men who risk their lives while emulating the birds.
All at once there was a quick angry buzz.
“The ’phone, Frank!” cried Billy.
Frank darted over and clapped the French receiver to his ear.