Famous Flyers

At ten minutes to six Hal, Bob and Bob's father were parked at the airport, their necks stretched skyward, watching the darkening, clouded skies for the first hint of a green monoplane. No green monoplane did they see. A few drops of rain splattered down, then a few more, and suddenly the outburst that had been promising for hours poured down. Bob's father, with the aid of the two boys, put up the windows of the car, and they sat fairly snug while the rain teemed down about them. The field was becoming sodden. Crashes of lightning and peals of thunder seemed to flash and roll all about them. All of the airplanes within easy distance of their home port had come winging home like birds to an enormous nest. The three watchers scanned each carefully, but none was the green Lockheed of Captain Bill.

The time passed slowly. Six-thirty; then seven. Finally Mr. Martin decided that they could wait no longer. "He's probably landed some place to wait for the storm to lift,"