“Here y’are!” he said, affably. Al, glancing at the book, saw that two opposite pages bore fresh scrawls. The man waved a hand. “Welcome. Run along, now. We’re busy, here—getting set to open up a new ‘airport’ out on the side, where folks can dance to a fine orchestra in a hangar. Tell any of your friends you like—especially your parents. We got the prettiest imitation of an airplane for the orchestra to set in——”
Al, hardly able to mumble his thanks, dashed out to his bicycle. He could scarcely hold in his impatience. One of those sets of rough characters was written with a pencil, the other with an indelible pencil!
One had a familiar character to its shaping of letters!
A little way down the road, near the lake, where the airplane had cracked up, Al drew his machine in under a tree, almost tore the book out of his pocket and opened it hastily.
On one page was a maxim, exactly what a pilot might write:
“Knowing when to stay on the ground makes a better pilot than knowing how to get off it!” It was signed with initials—“T. J.” Al did not recognize the writing although, he understood that the saying meant that a pilot wise enough to be cautious was better than one who thought that getting into the air was all there was to flying.
The second page revealed one word, the pilot’s good-luck wish, and two initials also:
“Tailwinds! J. T.” it told him.
“T. J. and J. T.”
Hurriedly Al drew out the folded, ragged, dirty little note—his clue.