“Two letters, that’s all.”
“Come along, then. We’ll have to hurry. He’ll be missed soon. Here, I’ll tote his gun.”
Their course now led them back from the house through a copse of hemlock. As they came out of the little wood, Charlie saw a blur of wooden buildings to the left. On their right was a field of tall corn, and between the two, a broad stretch of greensward.
“Those are the barns and garage,” Bill explained in answer to the boy’s whispered question. “There’s nobody out here—yet. I reconnoitered while you were frisking that fellow. But we’d better go through the corn, just the same.”
“What do you mean, there’s nobody here yet?”
“The bus is parked in the hangar. Wait till that nice inverted engine gets talking!”
“Think there’ll be a fight?” Charlie was running now. It was hard going in the cornfield between the tall stalks. He stumbled frequently. His long-legged friend seemed to know by instinct just where to plant his feet.
“Well, I don’t know—it all depends on how fast they can run, and which way they come.”
Bill stopped on the edge of the field and waited for Charlie. Before them now lay a broad meadow. Over to the left the dark shape of a building was visible.
“Is that the hangar?” puffed the youngster.