The faint trembling of the earth, or rather of the air just above it, went on, and John, turning about in his little bower, surveyed the heavens from all quarters.
He saw shapes, faint, dark and floating on every horizon, but none of them came near until a full half-hour had elapsed.

Then one shot out of the west, sailed toward the northeast, but curving suddenly, came back in the direction of the tree.

As the shape grew larger and more defined John's heart began to throb.

He had seen many aeroplanes that day, and most of them had been swift and graceful, but none was as swift and graceful as the one that was now coming.
It was a machine, beautiful in shape, and as lithe and fast as the darting swallow.

There could be none other like it in the heavens, and his heart throbbed harder.