Adjusting the controls so that the ship, well-balanced, flew itself for a moment, Don scribbled a note, passing it to Garry.
“I don’t know,” Garry responded, reading and considering the communication. “It might be safe and it might not to go down. I know we can’t get anywhere flying around up here; but anybody as deadly as that Demon is dangerous to get close to.”
Don hesitated.
He wished to beard the deadly one in his lair, to come to close grips; he did not desire to risk Garry’s safety without his chum’s consent.
Nevertheless that was what he had asked for a volunteer to help him with.
Garry, he knew, was cautious, not cowardly. Therefore Don hesitated.
Once more Garry’s steady voice came to his ears.
“How about doing this?” Garry asked, “let’s fly away as though we hadn’t seen the lure, get over the airport, and signal by blinking the flying lights. The Demon can’t read them that far off, and we won’t be dropping flares to warn him. We can tell Chick we have located our ‘bad man’ and he can get your uncle, with the police, to surround the marsh. Then we can start sending over flares, go down, and guide the officers. They will catch the Demon if he runs, and, by closing in on all the paths, he can’t get away.”
Don agreed by switching the nose quickly in the proper direction.
Over the control tower they made a glide.