they finished getting the machine in shape to renew the flight.

"Time for lunch, you think?" proposed Dave with a jolly laugh.
"Here we are."

They selected from the packages in the accommodation basket enough
things for a feed. Mr. Randolph had certainly provided for them in
a liberal way. The packages produced two kinds of sandwiches, some
doughnuts, a cream cakes, cheese, celery and a prime apple pie.

Dave was pleased and proud with their progress thus far on their
strange journey. There was a steady but mild head wind, and if he
held till daylight the young aviator counted on reaching the first
important destination on the route he had mapped out.

His idea was to reach a certain point in the dark. They would then
seek a hiding place, or at least seclusion, until evening again,
resting through the day. Dave's plan was to travel so that their
progress might not be noted and get to the Dawson group through the
public prints or by some other avenue, and thus warn them that they
were being traced.

There was not a landmark on the route, such as a city, lake or
river, that Dave had not memorized, from standard "fly" directories
during the past two days. The Drifter, being in the hands of the
Dawsons, who knew considerable about aviation, would probably follow
the same course. At night it was more difficult to tally off
progress than in daylight, but so far Dave felt that he had not
deviated from the due northwest course that was to bring him to a
certain destination.