The “Ogden II” began to volplane again. It was the most difficult undertaking of Bob Somers’ short career as an aviator. But with all his wits about him, he steered the machine toward the most level stretch he could see.
“We’re goin’ to make a corkin’ landing,” muttered Cranny.
The last stretch was before them; the bluish shadow trailing over the ground and the flying machine were rushing swiftly toward one another. As Bob once again manipulated the levers, shadow and substance joined—the biplane had landed with a startling series of jolts and bumps. But the two were safe.
CHAPTER XXIV
TO THE RESCUE
“Well, well; if this isn’t the biggest surprise ever! My, but it was perfectly great of you chaps to follow the racers.”
There wasn’t much chance for any one else to talk while Cranny kept rattling on.
The two lads, after a great deal of shouting, had been able to locate the searching party, which was riding in the direction taken by the “Ogden II.”
“Yes, I can hardly believe it, even yet,” went on Cranny. “An’ good old Dave here, too! Yes; it’s an honest fact, Tom; we have really seen Major Carroll and the others.”
“The good news you bring, and this reunion in the poetic moonlight is one of the most pleasant events in our whole experience,” murmured Dave.
“Ye sure done it ag’in, Bob!” Jed Warren spoke enthusiastically. “We’re proud o’ you, eh, Pete?”