An Aviator's Luck, or, The Camp Knox Plot

Frank Cobb

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Excerpt: There was noise a-plenty in Triangle Park. From one side of the beautiful little club house sounded the ear-splitting sq...

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Excerpt: There was noise a-plenty in Triangle Park. From one side of the beautiful little club house sounded the ear-splitting squeak of swing chains. All the swings were going back and forth as fast as they could be propelled by a score of pairs of active legs and arms. A patient procession toiled up the ladder of the toboggan slide and sailed gloriously down the other side. Eight small boys and girls dangled from the rings of the Maypole. The sand piles at either side of the steps of the club house held bright little dabs of humanity all solemnly making sand pies. Across the lawn, green as emerald and close as velvet, children in bathing suits ran to and from the bathing pool, a round, curbed fountain bed. On the other side of the club house were the tennis courts, where, in spite of the July sun, a dozen enthusiastic players hopped lightly around the courts while as many more sat waiting their turn on the benches set against the shrubbery. Drawn up on the grass just beyond the courts was a marking wheel, and beside it lay a boy flat on his back. His cap was tilted down over his twinkling brown eyes, showing only a brown cheek and a wide, smiling mouth. It was a good mouth and very, very rarely was it ever seen drawn down into the sullen lines that it could assume when the owner forgot. When Eddie Rowland was happy, he was way, way up; when he was gloomy, he went down, down to the very depths and stuck to the bottom like a sculpin! All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't drag him up until the cloud passed, and then pop, there was Eddie sailing around like a May morning, all happy and full of glee! He was only fourteen years old, and had a man's job at the Park during vacation. He was in charge of the courts, and they reflected credit on their keeper. Never was there a time when the markings were not perfect; never did a grass blade dare show itself within the lines prescribed. The players learned there was not pull enough in the world to get them a place on the courts out of turn.