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.
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