ant.

There was a roar like that of a machine gun as the Hawk's engine spun
the propeller, and then, after a little run across the sod, it mounted
into the air, carrying Tom and Mr. Damon with it.

"Mind you, Tom, no stunts!" called the visitor to the young inventor
through the speaking tube apparatus, which enabled a conversation to be
carried on, even above the roar of the powerful engine. "Bless my
overshoes! if you try, looping the loop with me--"

"I won't do anything like that!" promised Tom.

Away they soared, swift as a veritable hawk, and soon, after there had
unrolled below their eyes a succession of fields and forest, there came
into view rows and rows of small brown objects, among which beings,
like ants, seemed crawling about.

"There's the Camp!" exclaimed Tom.

"I see," and Mr. Damon nodded.

As they approached, they saw, starting up from a green space amid the
brown tents, what appeared to be big bugs of a dirty white color
splotched with green.

"The aircraft--and they have camouflage paint on," said Tom. "We can
watch 'em from up here!"

Mr. Damon nodded, though Tom could not see him, sitting in front of his
friend as he was.

Up and up circled the army aircraft, and they seemed to bow and nod a
greeting to the Hawk, which was soon in the midst of them. Tom and Mr.
Damon, flying high, though at no great speed, looked at the maneuvers
of the veterans and the learners--many of whom might soon be engaging
the Boches in far-off France.

"Some of 'em are pretty good!" called Tom, through the tube. "That one
fellow did the loop as prettily as I've ever seen it done," and Tom
Swift had a right to speak as one of authority.

Tom and his friend watched the aircraft for some time, and then started
off in a long flight, attaining a high speed, which, at first, made Mr.
Damon gasp, until he became used to it. He was no novice at flying, and
had even operated aeroplanes himself, though at no great height.

Suddenly the Hawk seemed to falter, almost as does a bird stricken by a
hunter's gun. The craft seemed to hang in the air, losing motion as
though about to plunge to earth unguided.

"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Damon.

"One of the control wires broken!" was Tom's laconic answer. "I'll have
to volplane down. Sit tight, there's no danger!"

Mr. Damon knew that with so competent a pilot as Tom Swift in the
forward seat this was true, but, nevertheless, he was a bit nervous
until he felt the s