Carl was dancing around on the roof top, waving the spyglass frantically.
"Come oop!" he cried, wildly. "Der Hawk is gedding avay mit itseluf! Ach, plazes, vat a luck!"
Harris made haste to reach the top of the building where Carl had been patiently waiting and watching.
"Pud der spyglass to your eye, Harris," said Carl, "und look off to der nort'. Ach, dose fellers haf made some ged-avays, und I bed you dey have dook Matt along!"
With the glass at his eye, Harris swept the horizon in the direction indicated by Carl. Finally he found what he was looking for—an oblong blot gliding through the heavens and proceeding in a northerly direction.
"That's the Hawk, all right," said he, in a tone of intense disappointment, "but why is it heading in that direction?"
"Prady vouldn't dare go pack by Sout' Chicago," said Carl. "I bed you somet'ing for nodding he has got anodder hang-oudt in dot tirections. Ach, vat vill I do for dot bard oof mine?"
Gloomily the two descended from the roof, and Carl returned the spyglass to its owner.
Half an hour later the Eagle was ready for flight, and the officers and Carl got aboard. It was decided to proceed to the swamp and look over the "island" and then, if nothing of importance developed, to return to South Chicago.
The Eagle's motor, apparently, worked as well as ever, and the four miles separating Willoughby's swamp from Lake Station were covered in record time.