Cudgel their brains as they would, they could not see how it was to be
done, and they dispersed to think it over and meet on the morrow.

Help came from an unexpected source. After supper that night Harry
Corwin happened to stay at home. Frequently he spent his evenings
with some of the fellows at the Academy, but he had discovered a book
which made some interesting comments on warping of aeroplane wings,
and he stayed home to get the ideas through his head, so that he
might pass them on to the other boys. Mr. and Mrs. Corwin and
Harry's sister, his senior by a few years, were seated in the living
room, each intent on their reading, when the bell rang and the maid
soon thereafter ushered in a tall soldier, an officer in the
American Army. The gold leaf on his shoulder proclaimed him a major,
and the wings on his collar showed Harry, at least, that he was one
of the Flying Corps.

The officer introduced himself as Major Phelps, and said he had
promised Will Corwin, in France, that he would call on Will's folks
when he came to supervise the new flying school at Brighton. Mr.
Corwin greeted the major cordially, and after introducing Mrs. Corwin
and Harry's sister Grace, presented Harry, with a remark that sent
the blood flying to the boy's face.

"Here, Major," said Mr. Corwin, "is one of the Flying Squadron of
the Brighton Academy."

The major was frankly puzzled. "Have you a school of flying here,
then?" he asked as he took Harry's hand.