"You mean down in Peru, Tom?"

"Yes."

Mr. Damon started in surprise, and then exclaimed:

"Bless my ear mufflers, Tom, but you're right! That was
Blakeson! I didn't know him with his beard, but that was
Blakeson, all right! Bless my foot-warmer! What do you
suppose he is doing around here?"

"I don't know, Mr. Damon, but I'd give a good deal to
know. It isn't any good, I'll wager on that. He didn't seem
to know me or you, either--unless he did and didn't let on.
I suppose it was because of my goggles--and you were gazing
up in the air most of the time. I don't think he knew either
of us."

"It didn't seem so, Tom. But what is he doing here? Do you
think he is working at the army camp, or helping make
Liberty Motors for the aircraft that are going to beat the
Germans?"

"Hardly. He didn't seem to be connected with the camp. He
wanted a mechanic, and hinted that I might do. Jove! if he
really didn't know who I was, and finds out, say! won't he
be surprised?"

"Rather," agreed Mr Damon. "Well, Tom, I bad a nice little