“You know,” he went on to say, particularly directing the words toward Blake, whom he guessed had been the one desirous of reading the letter, “there’s always a mean feeling comes on any one when you open a sealed envelope surreptitiously. It’s like a thief breaking into a house in the night; you think you’re doing something you ought to be ashamed of, no matter how good your motives really are. So better let that rest until all other hope has been abandoned.”
“Yes,” added Bud, “and even at noon tomorrow we could telegraph to Uncle Reuben we were on the road with a letter of apology, and he’d be only too willing to wait for us to arrive before changing his will. I reckon the old gentleman would be only too glad of a chance to meet a compromise halfway, if he thinks as much of Felix as Blake Merton here tells us he does.”
“I want you to come with me over to the camp of the aviation boys,” said Captain Barclay. “I have authority to enlist anyone I please in the squad we shall take with us for duty, and that being the case it might be just as well to have that party along who told you about Luther Gregory.”
“Johnston was his name, Captain,” explained Bud, “and I reckon he’s some punkins of an aeroplane pilot, too, because he’s been giving daring exhibitions in lots of county fairs down South last winter. From what he said, I reckon Johnston will be glad to be in the bunch, because things are getting kind of stale for him here, with so little material to work with.”
The captain left them for a short time. When he came back, three men carrying guns followed at his heels. Blake surveyed their armament with considerable interest, as though convinced by this time that the clouds were gathering around the devoted heads of the two schemers who must soon find themselves in the toils.
“There’s the moon just peeping above the horizon, you see, boys,” the captain remarked, as he joined the waiting trio of scouts. “It isn’t more than ten o’clock, either, and we needn’t be in any hurry. Let’s head across to where the aviation squad have their quarters, so as to pick up Johnston, the air pilot.”
As they were proceeding along, the clear notes of a bugle ascended from some point close by, and never would Hugh and his chums forget the peculiar effect produced upon them when, for the first time, they heard “taps” sounded in a military camp while the grim shadow of impending war was hovering over the land. It seemed to thrill them through and through with its significance, for they could not help remembering how it is this same sweet sad call that is invariably given over the grave of a soldier when his comrades bury him with full military honors.
When they finally arrived at the border of the camp, where lay the field that was to be devoted to such aviation work as could be carried on with the poor material on hand, Captain Barclay immediately sought the officer in command of the squad, whom he chanced to already know.
He found no trouble in securing permission to have the air pilot Johnston join them, though, doubtless, the other wondered much what it all meant, for there was no time to enter into full explanations. Captain Barclay did promise to see him on the next day, and tell him an interesting story connected with the visit of these three scouts from his home town.
Johnston recognized Bud, and readily agreed to lead the little expedition to the house where he had seen his old associate in aeronautics, Luther Gregory. As he had, it may be remembered, heard pretty much the whole story of the adventure from Bud Morgan’s lips, at the time the other was coaxing him to tell the location of the house where he claimed to have seen Luther, the aviator did not express any surprise, only satisfaction that his services had been thought worth while securing.