To his surprise the sudden light seemed to startle the pilot—at least the craft seemed to waver, to skid, to drop, and then, to catch its flying speed and control. But it did not spiral as he expected a pilot who had waited for light would do.
Instead it began to climb.
Swiftly, eagerly curious, Bob caught hold of the handle on the adjusting mechanism of the flood light. It could be lifted, or set lower, to govern the range and height of its beam.
Bob proposed to use it as a searchlight, to illuminate the craft if he could swing the heavy lamp upward in time.
Eagerly he labored with the mechanism.
Slowly the beam lifted.
Its intense rays caught the craft’s underwings.
“What’s going on here?” The watchman ran up.
For answer Bob pointed excitedly toward a brown, sharply outlined craft, climbing, growing dim in the fainter beam as it receded.
“It’s—it’s—” he gasped, “—it’s the mystery crate—the brown airplane!”