speck in the sky to his mother and father and the twins.

The plane zooming Biff to another adventure landed at the Miami airport in the late afternoon. Coming in over the city of fabulous hotels, America’s playground, Biff could see the lingering rays of the setting sun slanting out over the bouncing waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

From Carib Airways, Biff learned that the flight which was to take him on to Curaçao was not scheduled to depart until midnight. After a dinner of delicious stone crabs, Biff wandered up and down Lincoln Road, the famed shopping center in Miami Beach, gazing into the windows of the shops which lined the streets.

He left Lincoln Road and swung on to Collins Avenue. One hotel after another, each in turn seeming more luxurious than its predecessor, lined the east side of the avenue, between the street and the white, sandy beach.

The night air was warm and gentle in contrast to the cold, blustery March winds Biff had left behind him in Indianapolis.

Biff returned to the airport shortly after eleven, reclaimed his baggage, which he had checked, and waited for his flight to Curaçao to be called.

The call came just ten minutes before midnight:

“Carib Airways announces the departure of Flight two nine six, for Port-au-Prince, Haiti, Willemstad, Curaçao, and Fort-de-France, Martinique. Now loading at Gate Nine. All aboard, please.”

Biff joined the line which was moving slowly through Gate 9. He looked carefully about him, as he always did, spotting faces that he might run into again. He had learned in the past that it was wise to remember as much about one’s fellow passengers as possible. No telling when such knowledge might come in handy. Besides, he found the faces of traveling people interesting. On many long rides, he had amused himself by trying to guess where they had come from, where they were going, and why.

The line shuffled slowly forward. Flight 296 was filled. There would be no seats for the hopeful standbys.

Biff had checked his heavier bag through earlier, when he had presented his ticket. Now he carried only a small, light dispatch case. Accidentally, as the person directly in front of him stopped suddenly, Biff’s dispatch case swung forward, striking the person on the calf of one leg.

“Pardon me,” Biff said.

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