“Why not come up in the Dragonfly, and let Don fly the Dart, too?” Garry suggested.
“The Dragonfly isn’t fast. The Dart is. If the ‘spook’ pilot sees you young lads cruising around, he’ll think it’s just a joy-hop. If he happened to see you start out—with me—he’ll suppose we are testing the visibility of the new airport lighting system—and he might try to scare up a little excitement for us, as he’d suppose. Then, if Don flew the Dart, taking off first, to surprise him, the ‘spook’ might do stunts and I’d rather be the one to handle the Dart in the night time if stunting is in order. As far as both ships flying around is concerned, what self-respecting ghost, or sensible enemy of Mr. McLeod’s, would give us a chance to drive him down and capture him if he saw two ships in the airlane waiting for him?”
They saw the logic in his reasoning and agreed to abide by Scott’s original plan.
The Dragonfly was warmed up.
Don, in its pilot’s seat, waved a hand to Scott who had shifted to the other craft, opened his throttle carefully to avoid unnecessary air disturbance as he drove away from the Dart, and then got his pontoons “on the step,” so that take-off would be easy, and lifted the three-place Dragonfly into the night.
Garry felt a thrill of expectancy. He loved the mysterious, but of the practical, worldly brand; he had no belief in supernatural things. This would be a chase against a human enemy of Bruce McLeod, airport designer and airways development specialist. Don, steady but hopeful, felt much the same.
Chick, for his part, snapped his safety belt with a little tremble of his fingers. He anticipated something fearful.
His premonition was fulfilled.
CHAPTER III
THE SPECTRE IN THE CLOUD
“There it is!——”