were
doing, but as Norton seemed to get down out of his seat in the aeroplane
when the boy arrived, and it was wheeled back into the shed, I gathered
that he was detaching the gyroscope and was going to make the flight
without it, as Kennedy had requested.

In a few minutes it was again wheeled out.

The crowd, which had been waiting especially to see Norton, applauded.

"Come, Walter," exclaimed Kennedy, "let's go up there on the roof of the
stand where we can see better. There's a platform and railing, I see."

His pass allowed him to go anywhere on the field, so in a few moments we
were up on the roof.

It was a fascinating vantage-point, and I was so deeply engrossed
between watching the crowd below, the bird-men in the air, and the
machines waiting across the field that I totally neglected to notice
what Kennedy was doing. When I did, I saw that he had deliberately
turned his back on the aviation field, and was anxiously, scanning the
country back of us.

"What are you looking for?" I asked. "Turn around. I think Norton is
just about to fly."

"Watch him then," answered Craig. "Tell me when he gets in the air."

Just then Norton's aeroplane rose gently from the field. A wild shout
of applause came from the people below us, at the heroism of the man who
dared to fly this new and apparently fated machine. It was succeeded by
a breathless, deathly calm, as if after the first burst of enthusiasm
the crowd had suddenly realised the danger of the intrepid aviator.
Would Norton add a third to the fatalities of the meet?

Suddenly Kennedy jerked my arm. "Walter, look over there across the road
back of us--at the old weatherbeaten barn. I mean the one next to that
yellow house. What do you see?"

"Nothing, except that on the peak of the roof there is a pole that looks
like the short stub of a small wireless mast. I should say there was a
boy connected with that barn, a boy who has read a book on wireless for
beginners."

"Maybe," said Kennedy. "But is that all you see? Look up in the little
window of the gable, the one with the closed shutter."

I looked carefully. "It seems to me that I saw a gleam of something
bright at the top of the shutter, Craig," I ventured. "A spark or a
flash."

"It must be a bright spark, for the sun is shining brightly," mused
Craig.

"Oh, maybe it's the small boy with a looking-glass. I can remember when
I used to get behind such a window and shine a glass into the darkened
ro