A hundred feet beyond them were two heavier figures, pounding along at a slower pace, so that Don and Chick soon met, passed and out-stripped them.
Just beside the cottages that were boarding places and providers of furnished rooms for airport mechanicians, shop workers, pilots and others, a fleetly running, light form swerved out of the light just as Garry got to the balcony again.
Behind a house the figure vanished.
It had some round object clutched in the crook of an arm, Garry thought.
Standing there he watched until Don and Chick reached the spot.
In the bright rays of the light they soon returned, waving arms in dismay. While they stood, undecided, a window of the nearer cottage flew up.
Garry could not hear the voice, but he recognized Scott.
He watched as Don and Chick, calling upward, waited, received an answer, turned and raced back toward the hangars.
The upswung arm of Don, the upward pointing finger of Chick, told Garry what was wanted.
Down the stairways he plunged.