“Hello!” Al, turning at the door of the administration offices, hailed Curt. “Come on!”
Curt raced across the yard, joined Al and Bob at the office building doorway.
“I thought—” he gasped, “I thought you flew!”
Rapidly Bob explained. “We hoofed it back,” Al added.
“Then who is landing—or shooting the field to land?”
“Must be Mr. Parsons bringing in the ship we deserted on the road. Did you leave that parcel of books at Dad’s? Good! But why did you come back here, Curt?”
A quick explanation set everything clearly before his friends.
“We ought to go and round up the two trucks,” he finished.
“No—we must get to Griff. He must be wild, waiting without any word. I know the trucks won’t wait forever, but you can identify them in the morning. Come on.” Curt followed Bob’s lead, with Al at his heels as they entered the office corridor.
Griff’s voice came to them as they reached the upper landing. He was talking—telephoning!