Saturday dawned clear and sunny, with only a suspicion of frost in the bracing air. Having obtained leave of absence for the afternoon, the three bunkies started for Glenwood directly after the noon mess, Ignace accompanying them as far as the end of the company street.
Arrived at the main street of the drowsy little town, their first move was to find the building which held the Red Cross bazaar.
On entering, the three Khaki Boys found the place already well filled with Glenwood civilians and soldiers from Camp Sterling. For an hour or so they amused themselves strolling about the big room, lined on three sides with gaily decorated booths, each with its own attraction in the way of salable commodities. After conscientiously doing their bit in the way of purchasing a number of articles that caught their fancy, they left the bazaar and wandered on down the street to a bowling alley.
It was four o’clock when they emerged, each well pleased with the score he had run up. After a brief stop at a drug store soda fountain for hot chocolate, Bob was of the opinion that camp was almost as exciting as Glenwood and that they had better be beating it up the road.
Frequent side-stepping to allow the passing of jitneys to and from camp finally moved Bob to propose impatiently, “Let’s get off this turnpike and hit it up across the fields. It may be a little bit roundabout but we’ve lots of time to get back to camp.”
Roger and Jimmy agreeing, the trio left the highway, leaping a stump fence and striking off across a meadow, the withered grass of which still showed patches of green. Crossing it they went on to another field, which continued level for a little way, then sloped gradually downward. Coming to the point where the descent began, three voices were suddenly raised in a concerted shout. Their eyes had simultaneously spied at the foot of the slope that which had evoked the outcry.
“Come on!” yelled Jimmy, breaking into a run. “It’s an aeroplane. Looks as though it had flopped. Maybe someone’s hurt or killed!”
With a shout, a figure emerged from behind the fuselage of the quiescent plane and stood still, gazing straight at the rapidly advancing trio.
“One man alive!” yelled Bob. “Hope he’s the whole show! Hey there! Anybody hurt?”