“They may have met with contrary winds up there and be delayed,” urged Frank. “Because it seems so quiet down here is no sign that the conditions are the same a mile high. Be patient! I expect to soon have some good news for you.”
“I surely hope nothing has happened to break up the tea party, once it’s got off on the trip,” grumbled Billy.
Pudge said nothing more, but sat there watching Frank. He knew they would learn of the coming in sight of the fleet first of all from the one who carried the magnifiers; and hence he kept his eyes on the face of his chum.
When Frank lowered the glasses Pudge gave a soft wheeze, as though he had been fairly holding his breath meanwhile; then as soon as the other started to look again Pudge resumed his former occupation of watching for signs.
Even the longest night must have its end, and this absorbed vigil on the part of the fat boy was not without receiving its reward.
When Frank, on the next occasion, not only hastily lowered the glasses but passed them along to Billy, Pudge knew the crisis had arrived at last.
“There they come!” cried Billy, as soon as he had clapped the smaller end of the field glasses to his eyes. “Oh! what a raft of them I can see! Must be a hundred in that bunch, Frank, anyway, all of fifty if there’s one!”
But Frank knew how Billy was prone to exaggerate, without meaning to deceive.
“Let M. Le Grande take a look, Billy,” he suggested, which aroused the other to a remembrance of the fact that they had as their guest a most famous aviator who should be treated with every consideration.
Pudge did not ask to look. He was too busy watching Frank, who had made as if to turn on the power and start things going. For, after skimming over the surface of the water, the big seaplane would mount up like a bird on the wing.