Men burning leaves or breaking the ground on little farms in Jersey, on fields beside rutted lanes in Delaware where few travelers come, heard, one cool morning last week, a humming and a drumming in the sky, looked up, saw over their heads a great silver shape that flew south as the birds were flying, as the grey geese, the sleek ducks that leave their marshy beds and beat away with the frost at their backs. The Shenandoah it was, which had on that cool morning left its hangar at Lakehurst to start on...
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