During the morning the pedestrians, rested and fed, moved in fine style for the first few miles, Schneider stoutly holding to the efficacy of a rabbit's foot as a luck producer. At the foot of the summit finally cutting off the level over which the party had been so long traveling, it was in order to do some climbing. "It will give us a chance to look around," cheerfully observed Henri, "and which chance isn't coming to us down here." Halfway up the height the boy was again heard from. He insisted that he had seen a flock of eagles in the western sky. "Eagles your foot," bantered Schneider; "whoever saw a flock of eagles?" "Wild geese, then," insisted Henri. "How many did you see?" quizzed Schneider. "Five or six, maybe." "Guess again," laughed the big fellow; "geese would be lonesome if that was all in a flight." "Have it any way you please; I suppose you will be claiming next that I am suffering with liver spots." Henri was a bit nettled that Schneider did not take seriously his sky story. About twenty minutes later, Henri called another halt. "Now, old scout," he cried triumphantly, "just look up for yourself and say what you would call 'em." Schneider, shading his eyes under a hand, scanned the blue expanse above. "By the great hornspoon," he almost shouted, "I believe they're aëroplanes!" Henri was more than willing to be convinced that such was the fact. "What do you think about it, captain?" Schwimmer had from the first joined in the sky-gazing contest. "I think our friend Schneider has solved the problem. I never saw a real bird with exactly that motion." The blots on the sky were increasing in size. "It's a sure thing," hurrahed Henri, "and they're circling for a landing!" "Perhaps they're Russians," mildly suggested the captain. "Not while I'm carrying this rabbit's foot," firmly asserted Schneider. CHAPTER XX. WINNING OF THE IRON CROSS. THE aviators in the party of Roten were all for sailing, post-haste, to the slope where the mysterious climbers had been sighted, and very shortly the little fleet was in the air, headed that way. Flying low, the observers kept a sharp lookout for the near appearance of the man with the burden and the "shorter fellow." Roque caught the first glimpse, and called to his pilot to risk a look for himself. Billy had only a side glance, as the machine rounded the summit, but that was enough for him. "It's Henri and Schneider, or their ghosts!" he shouted. Roque fixed his glasses for the close view. "As sure as shooting it is, but how in the world did they get here?" Billy had no ear for this--he was for landing right there, even with a chance of plowing through the bushes. However, reason ruled, and he steered for a clearing, into which the biplane promptly plumped. Hardly waiting until the machine had run its length, the boy was out and speeding to greet his chum. It was a regular collision, the manner in which the youngsters came together.