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.