Then with a quick turn the eagle darted toward the plane,
meaning to sweep upon it.
AVIATOR SERIES VOLUME 2
AN AVIATOR’S LUCK
OR
THE CAMP KNOX PLOT
BY
CAPTAIN FRANK COBB
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
CHICAGO — AKRON, OHIO — NEW YORK
Copyright, MCMXXVII, by
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
AVIATOR SERIES
1 BATTLING THE CLOUDS,
Or, For a Comrade’s Honor
2 AN AVIATOR’S LUCK,
Or, The Camp Knox Plot
3 DANGEROUS DEEDS,
Or, The Flight in the Dirigible
Made in U. S. A.
AN AVIATOR’S LUCK
CHAPTER I
There was noise a-plenty in Triangle Park.
From one side of the beautiful little club housesounded the ear-splitting squeak of swing chains.All the swings were going back and forth as fast asthey could be propelled by a score of pairs of activelegs and arms. A patient procession toiled up theladder of the toboggan slide and sailed gloriouslydown the other side. Eight small boys and girlsdangled from the rings of the Maypole.
The sand piles at either side of the steps of theclub house held bright little dabs of humanity allsolemnly making sand pies.
Across the lawn, green as emerald and close asvelvet, children in bathing suits ran to and fromthe bathing pool, a round, curbed fountain bed.
On the other side of the club house were the tenniscourts, where, in spite of the July sun, a dozenenthusiastic players hopped lightly around thecourts while as many more sat waiting their turnon the benches set against the shrubbery.
Drawn up on the grass just beyond the courtswas a marking wheel, and beside it lay a boy flaton his back. His cap was tilted down over histwinkling brown eyes, showing only a brown cheekand a wide, smiling mouth. It was a good mouthand very, very rarely was it ever seen drawn downinto the sullen lines that it could assume when theowner forgot. When Eddie Rowland was happy,he was way, way up; when he was gloomy, he wentdown, down to the very depths and stuck to thebottom like a sculpin! All the king’s horses andall the king’s men couldn’t drag him up until thecloud passed, and then pop, there was Eddie sailingaround like a May morning, all happy and full ofglee! He was only fourteen years old, and had aman’s job at the Park during vacation. He was incharge of the courts, and they reflected credit ontheir keeper. Never was there a time when themarkings were not perfect; never did a grass bladedare show itself within the lines prescribed. Theplayers learned there was not pull enough in theworld to get them a place on the courts out of turn.
And through it all Eddie sang and joked andwhistled his way along, good friends with everyone.
Another boy lay at his side. His knees werebent, his legs crossed, and he was apparently lookingwith a good deal of surprise at the foot that waswagging cheerfully at the