“Where’s G. Lord, Esquire?” asked Matthew Reed.
“Don’t know,” said Harry. “He’s after his first-class badge these days. How’s that old balloon silk shelter you had last year, Howard?”
“Why, it hasn’t written me lately. It was a little under the weather when we camped last season.”
“That a joke, Howard?” said Mac.
“Well, you remember it rained, and the shel—”
“Kill him, if he tries to explain it,” piped up Tom Langford.
“Why, what’s up?” asked Howard.
“I was thinking we might make a glider,” Harry answered. “Red Deer’s talking of having us throw a bridge up, Baden-Powell fashion—over that chasm. A glider would be more sport, and help us over, too.”
“You’ve surely got the aeroplane bee in your bonnet, Harry,” said Mac.
“Well, how about it?” said Harry.