Now and then he turned them to the right. The beautiful lake always
attracted him very much like a magnet would, whenever he had a chance to
look out over its glistening bosom.

And there was the little steamer, just as Frank had said; why, he could
even distinguish Todd Pemberton up in the pilothouse, grasping his wheel
and guiding his charge among the shoals that were charted in the
northern end of the lake as dangerous, that is, for green hands at the
tiller or wheel of a boat propelled by sails, steam or gasolene.

They were moving in a line that would carry them up along the shore, and
consequently every minute they drew nearer the small lake steamer that
was heading toward them.

Passengers could be seen on its deck, and possibly every eye was glued
just at that particular moment on the aeroplane that was buzzing go
steadily northward; perhaps it might have been the first time some of
these people had ever seen such an interesting object; but in the region
around Bloomsbury it was by now a common sight, with such enterprising
young air pilots as the Bird boys and Percy Carberry in the field almost
every decent day.

All at once Frank was heard to utter an exclamation.

"Turn your glasses straight ahead, and see what that can be fluttering
among the bushes at Norton's Point, Andy!" he called out hastily.

When the other had swung around, and covered the region spoken of, he
quickly gave the desired information.