The big airdrome that was to be placed on the Frisbie property gradually
took a sort of being, though everything about it seemed to progress
with maddening deliberation. Ground was broken for the buildings.
Timber and lumber were delayed by Far Western strikes, but finally put
in an appearance. A spur of railway line shot out to the site of the
new flying grounds. Then barracks and huge hangars---the latter to
house the flying machines---began to take form.

At first no effort was made to keep the public from the scene of the
activity, but as time went on and things thereabouts took more
tangible form, the new flying grounds were carefully fenced in, and a
guard from the State National Guard was put on the gateways. So far
only construction men and contractors had been in evidence. Such few
actual army officers as were seen had to do with the preparation of
the ground rather than with the Flying Corps itself. The closing of
the grounds woke up the Brighton boys to the possibility of the fact
that they might be shut out when flying really commenced. A council
of war immediately ensued.

"A lot of good it will have done us to have watched the thing get this
far if, when the machines and the flying men come, we can't get beyond
the gates," said Harry Corwin.

"I don't see what is going to get us inside any quicker than any other
fellows that want to see the flying," commented Archie Fox dolefully.

"What we have got to get is some excuse to be in the thing some way,"
declared Bob Haines. "If we could only think of some kind of job we
could get inside there---some sort of use we could be put to, it would
be a start in the right direction."