"What's that? Did you see them pass over in their biplane this morning?"
demanded the other.

"Felix woke me up at dawn to tell me there was a queer chugging
overhead, that sort of scared him. I jumped up, because of course I knew
what that must mean. And sure enough I was just in time to see a biplane
pass over at a good height, and head up the lake. I lost it back of the
barn, because a flock of crows came flying along, stretching out for a
mile or two; and among the lot I couldn't make out just what was biplane
and which was crow. It was pretty high up, too, I thought."

"But you made sure it was Percy's biplane?" asked Frank, interested
somewhat, for somehow the other rival flier was always doing such bold
stunts that he could not help feeling as though it might pay to keep
track of what he was doing, lest their interests clash unexpectedly, in
midair perhaps.

"I ought to know the way it glides, and the whole general look; and I'd
be willing to take my affidavy that was the Canvas-back, as he calls
his biplane."

"And he was in it, of course, with Sandy too?" Frank went on.

"I could just make out that there were two aboard," said Andy, "but
somehow it seemed to me that Percy had altered his whole way of piloting
his airship, or else he was drunk, and hardly knew what he was doing."

Frank whistled to indicate his surprise and consternation: