CHAPTER VIII

MR. DAMON’S NEWS “Bless my gasoline tank, I’m afraid I’ve done some damage!” cried Wakefield Damon. “If you haven’t damaged yourself you’re lucky,” grimly commented Ned. “No, I guess I’m all right,” said the eccentric man as he climbed out of his plane. He had managed to bring it to a level landing on the ground, though it was more by good luck than by good management. He had flown over from Waterfield in the early morning, and either had not seen, or else had forgotten about, Tom’s new mooring mast on the edge of …