The boys promised to keep an eye out for Timmie, if ever they went into the unknown wilderness, and left the old man with a new hope shining in his eyes.

For a long time after reaching the office the boys worked in silence.  At last Barney straightened his tired shoulders and glanced at Bruce.  He was in a brown study.

“What’s on your mind, Bruce?” he asked.  “That money?”

“Thinking what it would do for La Vaune; five thousand seven hundred and twenty-four dollars.”  Bruce rolled the words out slowly.  Though they said no more about it, the old man’s story was the inspiration of many a wild plan.  The truth is, it was destined to play an important part in shaping their future.

* * * * *

“He’s here!  She’s—­it’s here!”

Bruce burst into the office all excitement and half out of breath.

“Who’s he, she, it?” grinned Barney, slipping his pen behind his ear.

“The Major and the airplane!  And the plane’s a hummer!”

It was Barney’s turn to get excited now.  He jumped from his stool so suddenly that his pen went clattering.

“Let’s have a look at her.”  He grabbed his cap and dashed out, Bruce at his heels.

Some Greek freight handlers were unloading the car when they reached the track.  The work was being done under the direction of a rather tall man, erect and dignified.  He, the boys felt sure, was the Major.  His face bore some peculiar scars, not deep but wide, and as he walked he limped slightly.

“Might be he’s lost some toes,” muttered Barney.  “Had a cousin who limped that way.”

“The machine’s a Handley-Page bombing plane, made over for some purpose or other,” said Bruce, with a keen eye for every detail.  “That’s the plane that would have bombed Berlin if the war had lasted long enough.  They’re carrying mail from Paris to Rome in ’em now.  Those machines carried four engines and developed a thousand horse-power.  This one is a lighter model and carries two engines.  One’s a Rolls-Royce and one a Liberty motor.  The fellow that planned the Major’s trip for him has selected his equipment well.  They don’t make them any better.”

“Just look at the sweep of the planes,” exclaimed Barney.  “They were made for high altitude work—­up where the air’s thin.  No one would be coming up here for a high altitude test, would he?”

“Surely not; there’s no particular advantage at this point for that.”

The boys watched the unloading with eager and experienced eyes.  As Barney put it, “Makes me feel like some shipwrecked gob on a desert island when he sees a launch coming ashore.”

“Yes,” grinned Bruce, “and soon you’ll be feeling like your gob would when the launch came about and put out to sea again.  No chance for you on that boat, Barney.”

“Guess you’re right,” groaned Barney.  “Little enough we’ll have to do with that bird.”