The light died out of the cloud as the airplane, a lightly-built and fast-moving craft, came steadily lower, closer. It was real!
“It’s Don!” said Garry, reassuringly.
“Yes, it is Don, all right,” agreed Chick, his own fears gone.
Garry watched the light ship make its approach, silent but genuine and then gave Chick a brief lecture.
“I’m glad you came, after all—aren’t you?” he remarked. “Now you can see for yourself that every scare that seems to be started by spooks is all in the way you judge what you see.”
“It’s that way just this time,” admitted Chick grudgingly. “The darkness, and the swamp, and all the talk made me think I saw a ghost ship coming out of a lighted cloud.”
“Certainly,” agreed Garry, “and you thought that, because you heard somebody else say that was how the ghost appeared. But it turns out to be Don in the Dart, coming down out of the sky just when the control man at the airport had his searchlight switched on and turned it past the clouds.”
“For my part,” Scott informed the two chums, “I don’t think the first crack-up happened because the pilot saw a real ’bus.”
“I do,” argued Garry.
The talk ceased as the light ship came swiftly down, across the marsh, dropping lower, leveling off, setting its pontoon body lightly into the water.