note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) round the world in seven days by herbert strang illustrated by a. c. michael contents chapter. prelude i the cablegram ii eastward ho! iii across europe to the bosphorus iv a flying visit v the tomb of ur-gur vi with gun runners in the gulf vii the white djinn viii a ship on fire ix a passenger for penang interlude x some praus and a junk xi australian hospitality xii stalked by pigmies xiii the rescue xiv sir matthew improves the occasion xv herr schwankmacher's cabbages xvi a stop-press message xvii a midnight vigil xviii the last lap postscript prelude lieutenant george underhill, commanding h.m. surveying ship _albatross_, had an unpleasant shock when he turned out of his bunk at daybreak one morning. the barometer stood at . '. for two or three days the vessel had encountered dirty weather, but there had been signs of improvement when he turned in, and it was decidedly disconcerting to find that the glass had fallen. his vessel was a small one, and he was a little uneasy at the prospect of being caught by a cyclone while in the imperfectly-charted waters of the solomon islands. he was approaching the eastern shore of ysabel island, whose steep cliffs were covered with a lurid bank of cloud. if the shore was like those of the other islands of the group, it would be, he knew, a maze of bays, islets, barrier reefs, and intricate channels amid which, even in calm weather, a vessel would run a considerable risk of grounding, a risk that would be multiplied in a storm. anxiously noting the weather signs, underhill hoped that he might reach a safe anchorage before the threatening cyclone burst upon him. as is the way with cyclones, it smote the vessel almost without warning. a howling squall tore out of the east, catching the ship nearly abeam, and making her shudder; then, after a brief lull, came another and even a fiercer blast, and in a few minutes the wind increased to a roaring hurricane, enveloping the ship in a mist of driving rain that half choked the officers and crew as they crouched under the lee of the bulwarks and the deckhouse. the _albatross_ was a gallant little vessel, and underhill, now that what he dreaded had happened, hoped at least to keep her off the shore until the fury of the storm had abated. for a time she thrashed her way doggedly through the boiling sea; but all at once she staggered, heeled over, and then, refusing to answer the helm, began to rush headlong upon the rocks, now visible through the mist. "propeller shaft broken, sir," came the cry from below to underhill as he stood clinging to the rail of the bridge. he felt his utter helplessness. he could not even let go an anchor, for no one could stand on deck against the force of the wind. he could only cling to his place and see the vessel driven ashore, without being able to lift a hand to save her. suddenly he was conscious of a grating, grinding sensation beneath his feet, and knew that the vessel had struck a coral reef. she swung round broadside to the wind; the boats on the weather side were wrenched from their davits and hurled away in splinters; and in the midst of such fury and turmoil there was no possibility of launching the remaining two boats and escaping from the doomed vessel. all hands had rushed on deck, and clung to rails and stays and whatever else afforded a hold. among those who staggered from the companion way was a tall thin man, spectacled, with iron-grey hair and beard, and somewhat rounded shoulders. linking arms with him was a young man of twenty-two or twenty-three: the likeness between them proclaimed them father and son. the older man was dr. thesiger smith, the famous geologist, in furtherance of whose work the _albatross_ was making this voyage. the younger man was his second son tom, who, after a distinguished career at cambridge, had come out to act as his father's assistant. underhill knew by the jerking and grinding he felt beneath him that his ill-fated vessel was being slowly forced over the reef towards the shore. his first lieutenant, venables, crawled up to the bridge, and, bawling into his ear, asked if anything could be done. the lieutenant shook his head. "water's within two feet of the upper deck forward, sir," shouted venables; "abaft it is three feet above the keelson." "get the lifebuoys," was the brief reply. venables crawled down again, and with the assistance of some of the crew unlashed the lifebuoys and distributed them among the company. meanwhile the progress of the vessel shorewards had been suddenly checked. she came up with a jerk, and underhill guessed that her nose had stuck fast in a hollow of the reef, and prayed that the storm would abate for just so long as would enable him to get the boats clear and make for the land before the ship broke up. but for a good half-hour longer the hurricane blew with undiminished force, and it was as much as every man could do to avoid being washed away by the mountainous seas that broke over the vessel. at length, however, there came a sudden change. the uproar ceased as by magic, and there fell a dead calm. underhill was not deceived. he judged that the vessel was now in the centre of the cyclone; the calm might last for forty or fifty minutes, then a renewal of the hurricane was almost certainly to be expected. without the loss of a moment he gave his orders. the boats were made ready; into one they put arms, ammunition, and tools, together with the ship's papers and chronometer, a compass, and dr. thesiger smith's specimens and diaries; into the other more ammunition, and a portion of what provisions could be collected from above or below water. the boats were lowered, the men dropped into them and pulled off, leaving underhill and two or three of the crew still on the vessel to collect the remainder of the provisions and whatever else seemed worth saving. the sea was so high that the boats had much difficulty in making the shore; but they reached it safely, and one of them, after being rapidly unloaded, returned for the commander. before it regained the ship, underhill felt a light puff of wind from the south-west. lifting a megaphone, he roared to the men to pull for their lives. the boat came alongside; it had scarcely received its load when the hurricane once more burst upon them, this time from the opposite quarter. underhill leapt down among his men, and ordered them to give way. before they had pulled a dozen strokes the storm was at its height, but the force of the wind was now somewhat broken by the trees and rocks of the island. even so it was hard work, rowing in the teeth of the blast, the boat being every moment in danger of swamping by the tremendous seas. underhill, at the tiller, set his teeth, and anxiously watched the advancing cliffs, at the foot of which the remainder of his company stood. the boat was within twenty yards of them when a huge wave fell on it as it were out of the sky. it sank like lead. thanks to the lifebuoys underhill and the men rose quickly to the surface. two of them, who could not swim, cried out despairingly for help. underhill seized one and held him up; the other was saved by the promptitude of young smith. seeing their plight, he caught up a rope which had been brought ashore, and flung it among the group of men struggling in the water. the drowning man clutched it, the others swam to it, and by its aid all were drawn ashore, gasping for breath, and sorely battered by the jagged rocks. "all safe, thank heaven!" said underhill, as he joined the others; "but i'm sorry we've lost the boat." the shipwrecked party found themselves on a narrow beach, behind which rose steep cliffs, rugged and difficult to climb. against these they crouched to find some shelter from the storm, and watch the gradual dismemberment of the ill-fated _albatross_. wave after wave broke over her, the spray dashing so high that even her funnel sometimes disappeared from view. the spectators held their breath: could she live out the storm? at last a tremendous sea swept her from the hollow in which she was wedged, and she plunged beneath the waters. chapter i the cablegram "tenez! up! up! ah ça! a clean shave, mister, hein?" a touch on the lever had sent the aeroplane soaring aloft at a steep angle, and she cleared by little more than a hair's breadth the edge of a thick plantation of firs. "a close shave, as you say, roddy," came the answer. and then the speaker let forth a gust of wrathful language which his companion heard in sympathetic silence. lieutenant charles thesiger smith, of h.m.s. _imperturbable_, was normally a good-tempered fellow, and his outburst would have deceived nobody who knew him so well as laurent rodier. it was the dusk of an evening in mid spring. above, the sky was clear, washed by the rain that had fallen without intermission since early morning. below, the chill of coming night, acting on the moisture-laden air, had covered the land with a white mist, that curled and heaved beneath the aeroplane in huge waves. it looked like a billowy sea of cotton-wool, but the airmen who had just emerged from it, had no comfort in its soft embrace. their eyes were smarting, they drew their breath painfully, and little streams of water trickling from the soaked planes made cold, shuddering streaks on their faces and necks. an hour ago they had sailed by salisbury spire, calculating that a few minutes' run, at two or three miles a minute, would bring them to their destination on the outskirts of portsmouth. but a few miles south the baffling mist had made its appearance, and smith found himself bereft of landmarks, and compelled to tack to and fro in utter uncertainty of his course. he was as much at a loss as if he were navigating a vessel in a sea-fog. to sail through the mist was to incur the risk of striking a tree, a chimney, or a church steeple; to pursue his flight above it in the deepening dusk might carry him miles out of his way, and though a southerly course must presently bring him to the sea, he could not tell how far east or west of his intended landing-place. meanwhile the petrol was running short, and it was clear that before long his dilemma would be solved by the engine stopping, and bringing him to the ground willy-nilly, goodness knows where. this was vexing enough, but in the particular circumstances it was a crowning stroke of misfortune. to-day was the twenty-first of his twenty-eight days' leave: to-morrow he was to begin a round of what he called duty visits among his relatives; he would have to motor, play golf, dance attendance on girls at theatres and concerts, and spur himself to a thousand activities that he detested. there was no escape for him. perhaps he could have faced this seven days' penance more equably if he had had the recollection of three well-employed weeks to sweeten it. even this was denied him. ever since he came on leave the weather had been abominable: high wind, incessant rain, all the elements conspiring to prevent the enjoyment of his hobby. rodier had suggested that he should apply for an extension of leave, but smith, though he did not lack courage, could not screw it to this pitch. he remembered too vividly his interview with the captain when coming off ship. "don't smash yourself up," said the captain, "and don't run things too fine. you're always late in getting back from leave. last time you only got in by the skin of your teeth, when we were off shooting, too. if you overstep the mark again you'll find yourself brought up with a round turn, you may take my word for it." "i couldn't beg off after that," he said to rodier. "anyway, it's rotten bad luck." "précisément ca!" said rodier sympathetically. for some little time they sailed slowly on, seeking in vain for a rift in the blanket of mist: then rodier cried suddenly-- "better take a drop, mister. in three minutes all the petrol is gone, and then--" "i'm afraid you're right, roddy, but goodness knows what we shall fall on. we must take our chance, i suppose." he adjusted the planes, so as to make a gradual descent while the engine still enabled him to keep way on the machine, and it sank into the mist. both men kept a sharp look-out, knowing well that to encounter a branch of a tree or a chimney-stack might at any moment bring the voyage, the aeroplane, and themselves to an untimely end. all at once, without warning, a large dark shape loomed out of the mist. smith instantly warped his planes, and the machine dived so precipitately as almost to throw him from his seat. next moment there was a shock; he was flung headlong forward, and found himself sprawling half suffocated on a damp yielding mass, which, when he had recovered his wits, he knew to be the unthatched top of a hayrick. his first thought was for the aeroplane. raising himself, and dashing the clinging hay wisps from his face, he shouted-- "is she smashed, roddy?" "ah, no, mister," came the answering cry. "she stick fast, and me also." smith crawled to the edge of the rick and dropped to the ground. two or three dogs were barking furiously somewhere in the neighbourhood. a few steps brought him to the aeroplane, lying in a slanting position between the hayrick and a fence, over which it projected. rodier had clung to his seat, and had suffered nothing worse than a jolting. "this is a pretty mess," said smith despairingly, "one end stuck fast in the hayrick, the other sticking over the fence: they'll have to pull it down before we can get her out. get off, you brute!" he exclaimed, as a dog came yapping at his legs. "seize him, pompey: seize him, good dog!" cried a rough voice. "call him off, or i'll break his head," cried smith in exasperation. "you will, will you?" roared the farmer. "i'll teach you to come breaking into my yard: i'll have the law of you." "don't be absurd, man," replied smith, fending off the dog as well as he could. "don't you see i've had an accident?" "accident be jiggered!" said the farmer. "you don't come breaking into my yard by accident. better stand quiet or he'll tear you to bits." "oh, come now!" said smith. "look at this. here's my aeroplane, fixed up here. you don't suppose i came down here on purpose? i lost my way in this confounded mist, and don't know where i am. just be sensible, there's a decent chap, and get some of your men to help us out. i'll pay damages." "i'll take care of that," said the farmer curtly. "what the country's coming to i don't know, what with motors killing us on the roads and now these here airyplanes making the very air above us poison to breathe. there ought to be a law to stop it, that's what _i_ say. down, pompey! what's your name, mister?" smith explained, asking in his turn the name of the place where he had alighted. farmer barton was a good patriot, and the knowledge that the intruder was a navy-man sensibly moderated his truculence. "why, this be firtop farm, half-a-mile from mottisfont station, if you know where that is," he said. "daze me if you hain't been and cut into my hayrick!" he sniffed. "and what's this horrible smell? i do believe you've spoilt the whole lot with your stinking oil." he was getting angry again. "well, i've said i'll pay for it," said smith impatiently. "get your men, farmer, or i shan't be home to-night. i suppose i can get some petrol somewhere about here?" "you might, or you might not, in the village; i can't say. my men are abed and asleep, long ago. you'll have to bide till morning." "oh well, if i must, i must. roddy, just have a look at the machine and see that she's safe for the night. i'll run down to the station and send a wire home, and then get beds in the village." "better be sharp, then," said the farmer. "you can't send no wire after eight, and it's pretty near that now. i'll show you the way." smith hurried to the station and despatched his telegram; then, learning that there was a train due at . from andover, he decided to wait a few minutes and get an evening paper. an aviation meeting had just been held at tours, and he was anxious to see how the english competitors had fared. the train was only a few minutes late. smith asked the guard whether he had brought any papers, and to his vexation learnt that, there being no bookstall at mottisfont, there were none for that station. however, the guard himself had bought a paper before leaving waterloo. "take it and welcome, sir," he said. "i've done with it. you're lieutenant smith, if i'm not mistaken. seen your portrait in the papers,' sir." "thanks, guard," said smith, pressing a coin into his reluctant hand. "englishmen doing well in france, sir. hope to see you a prize-winner one of these days. goodnight!" the train rumbled off, and smith scanned the columns by the light of a platform lamp. he read the report of the meeting in which he was interested: a frenchman had made a new record in altitude; an englishman had won a fine race, coming in first of ten competitors; a terrible accident had befallen a well-known airman at the moment of descending. the most interesting piece of news was that a frenchman had maintained for three hours an average speed of a hundred and twenty miles. "i'm only just in time," said smith to himself. he was folding the paper when his eye was caught by a heading that recalled the days of his boyhood, when he had revelled in stories of savages, pirates, and the hundred and one themes that fascinate the ingenuous mind. shipwrecked among cannibals. terrible situation of famous scientist. (from our own correspondent.) brisbane, thursday. a barque put in here to-day with four men picked up from an open boat south of new guinea, who reported that the government survey vessel albatross has run ashore in a storm on ysabel island, one of the solomon group. the crew and passengers, including dr. thesiger smith, the famous geologist, were saved, but the vessel is a complete wreck, and the unfortunate people were compelled to camp on the shore. they are very short of provisions, and being practically unarmed are in great danger of being massacred by the natives, who are believed to be one of the fiercest cannibal tribes in the south sea. four of the crew put off in the ship's boat to seek assistance, but they lost their mast and had to rely on the oars, and drifted for several days before being picked up in the coral sea. a gunboat will be despatched immediately, but since it cannot reach the island for at least five days, it is greatly to be feared that it will arrive only to find that help has come too late. smith ran his eyes rapidly over the lines, then folded the paper, and put it into his pocket. he did not notice that his hand was trembling. the station-master looked curiously after him as he strode away with set face. "seems to have had bad news," he said to his head porter. "bin plungin' on a wrong un, maybe," replied the porter. smith left the station, and hastened down the road towards the farm. he had clean forgotten his intention of bespeaking beds in the village; indeed, he walked as one insensible to all around him until he caught sight of the word garage, painted in large white letters, illuminated by an electric lamp, over a gateway at the side of the road. then he swung round and, passing through the gate, came to a lighted shed where he found a man cleaning a motor car. "any petrol to be got here?" he asked quickly. "as much as we're allowed to keep, sir," replied the man. "send a can at once to firtop farm, down the road." he turned, and was quitting the shed when a word from the man recalled him. "beg pardon, sir, but--" "oh, here's your money," cried smith, handing him a crown-piece. "be quick. by the way, can you lend me two or three men for half-an-hour or so at five shillings an hour?" "right you are, sir," was the reply. "i'm one; i'll get you a couple more in no time. be there as soon as you, sir." smith hurried away. on reaching the farm he found that rodier and the farmer were engaged in a friendly conversation, by the light of a carriage lamp which flickered wanly in the mist. "wonderful machine, sir," said the farmer, whom rodier had talked out of his ill-humour. "your man has been showing me over it, as you may say, leastways as well as he could in this fog." "we must get her out at once," rejoined smith. "some men are coming up. we must get on to-night." "good sakes! that's impossible. she lies right athwart the fence, and you'll have to rig a crane to lift her." "the fence must come down. i'll pay." "but drat it all--" "look here, farmer, it's got to be done. here are the men; just oblige me by showing them a light at the fence, and set them to take down enough of it to free the aeroplane--carefully; i don't want it smashed. there's a sovereign on account; you shall have a cheque for the rest when you send in the bill." apparently the magic touch of gold reconciled the farmer to these hasty proceedings, for he made no more ado, but took the lamp and bade the three men to follow him. "what's wrong, mister?" asked rodier. "you look as if you had been shocked." smith drew the paper from his pocket, gave it to rodier, and then, striking a match, showed him the paragraph, and lighted more matches while he read it. "mon dieu!" ejaculated the frenchman, when he was halfway through. "it is your father!" "yes; my brother is with him. i must get home; it will kill my mother if she sees this." rodier read the paragraph to the end. "my word, it is bad business," he said. "these cannibals!... and they have no arms. what horror!" smith left him abruptly and walked to the fence to see how the work of dismantling it was proceeding. rodier whistled, and thrusting his hands into his pockets, sat down on a bag of straw and appeared to be deep in a brown study. sounds of hammering came from the fence; a light breeze was scattering the mist, and he could now see clearly the three men under the farmer's direction carefully removing the fencing beneath the aeroplane. rodier watched them for a few minutes, but an onlooker would have gathered the impression that his thoughts were far away. suddenly he sprang up, muttering, "ah! on peut le faire, quand même. courage, mon ami!" and hastened to rejoin his employer. "what distance, mister," he said, "from here to there--to the cannibals?" "thirteen thousand miles, i suppose, more or less." "ah!" the frenchman's face fell. "thirteen thousand!" he repeated, then was silent for a while, touching his brow as if making some abstruse calculation. smith turned away. "ah! qu'importe?" cried rodier, after a few moments. "on peut le faire!" he hastened to smith, drew him aside, and spoke rapidly to him for a few moments. the look of doubt that first came to smith's face was soon replaced by a look of confidence. he engaged in a hurried colloquy with his man, at the close of which they shook hands heartily and went to the fence to lend a hand there. in half-an-hour the work was done; the fence was down, and the six men carefully dragged and lifted the aeroplane over the débris, and placed it on the road outside. while rodier made a rapid examination of it, to see that no damage had been done, smith got the men to empty into the tank the can of petrol they had brought, paid them for their work, and handed his card to the farmer. "send in your bill," he cried. "ready, roddy?" "all right, mister." they jumped into their seats. smith called to the men to stand clear, and pulled the lever. at the same moment rodier switched on the searchlight. the propellers flew round with deafening whirr; the aeroplane shot forward for thirty or forty yards along the road, then rose like a bird into the air. the men stood with mouths agape as the machine flew over the tree-tops, its light diminishing to a pin-point, its clamour sinking to the quiet hum of a bee, and then fading away altogether. in a minute it had totally disappeared. "daze me if ever i seed anything like that afore," said the farmer. "a mile a minute, what?" "more like two," said the motorman. "i lay she'll be in portsmouth afore i'm half-a-mile up road. good-night, farmer, i'm off to the three waggoners." "bust if i don't go, too. there be summat to wet our whistles on to-night, eh, men?" chapter ii eastward ho! before the farmer reached the hospitable door of the three waggoners, smith had made his descent upon a broad open space in his father's park near cosham. there stood the large shed in which he housed the aeroplane; adjoining it were a number of workshops. it was quite dark now, and no one was about; but smith clearly had no intention of putting his machine up for the night. as soon as he came to the ground he hurried off on foot in one direction, rodier on a bicycle in another, their purposeful movements betokening a course of action arranged during the few minutes' conversation at the farm. smith walked rapidly through the park, and, entering the house, found his mother placidly knitting on a settee in the large old-fashioned hall. "ah, my dear boy," she said, as he appeared; "how late you are, and how dirty! we have waited dinner for you." "you shouldn't have done that, mother," he replied cheerfully; "though it's very good of you." "well, you see, it's your last night with us for ever so long, and with tom and your father away--" "yes, i'm sorry i'm so late," smith broke in hastily. "we were caught in a mist. i shan't be ten minutes changing." he ran up the stairs, and before going to his room put his head in at the door of his sister's. "you there, kate? you didn't get my telegram, then? come to my room in ten minutes, will you? i want to see you particularly before dinner." with a seaman's quickness he was bathed and dressed within the time he had named. "come in," he said, as his sister tapped. "you've got a pretty cool head, sis; look at this, quickly." he handed her the evening paper, pointing out the fateful paragraph. kate went a little pale as she read it; her bosom heaved, but she said nothing. "it must be kept from mother," he said. "get hold of to-morrow's paper, and if the paragraph is there, cut it out or tear off the page." "but people will write, or call. they are sure to speak of it." "that's your chance. intercept 'em. you always read the mater's letters to her, don't you? keep the servants' mouths shut. and i want you to write for me to all those people and cry off; pressing business--any excuse you like." "but you, charley?" "i'm off to london, to-night; must see what can be done for the old dad, you know." "how shall we explain to mother? she has been looking forward to your spending your last night at home." "roddy will come up by and by with an urgent telephone message. the mater is so used to that sort of thing that she won't smell a rat." "how you think of everything, charley! but i'm afraid mother will notice something in our manner at dinner." "not if we're careful. you take your cue from me. come along!" no one would have guessed at that dinner table that anything was amiss. smith seemed to be in the highest spirits, talking incessantly, describing his sudden descent on firtop farm and his interview with the farmer so racily that his mother laughed gently, and even kate, for all her anxiety, smiled. in the middle of the meal the belated telegram arrived, giving smith an opportunity for poking fun at official slowness. dinner was hardly over when a servant announced that mr. rodier was below, asking to see mr. smith upon particular business. smith slowly lighted a cigarette before he left the room. he found rodier in the hall. "got it, roddy?" he asked. "yes, i ask for globe: mr. dawkins give me first a pink paper. 'sad news this!' says he." "i hope to goodness he'll hold his tongue about it." "he must have it back to-morrow, he said. the inspector is coming." "all right. now cut off to the housekeeper and stroke as hard as you can. i don't know when you'll get another meal." returning to the dining-room, smith said-- "sorry, mater, i've got to go to london at once. too bad, isn't it, spoiling our last night. ah well! it can't be helped." "is it admiralty business, charley?" asked his mother. "well, not exactly; something about a wreck, i think." "i suppose i had better send on your things to the leslies in the morning?" "i'll send you a wire. i mayn't go there, after all. nuisance having to change again, isn't it?" he hastened from the room, got into his air-man suit, covered it with an overall, emptied his cash-box into his pocket, and returned to say good-bye. kate accompanied him to the door. "buck up, old girl," he said, as he kissed her. "i'll let you know what happens, if i can. by the way, there's a globe in the shed i want you to send back to dawkins, the school-master, first thing to-morrow. good-bye! send roddy after me as soon as he has finished his grub." he hurried through the park, and coming to the shed, switched on the electric light, which revealed a litter of all sorts of objects: models, parts of machinery, including an aero-cycle on which he had spent many fruitless hours, and, on a bench, a small geographical globe of the world. taking up a piece of string, he made certain measurements on the globe, jotting down sundry names and rows of figures on a piece of paper. then he went to a telephone box in a corner of the shed, and rang up a certain club in london, asking if mr. william barracombe was there. after the interval usual in trunk calls, he began-- "that you, billy? good! thought i'd catch you. can you give me an hour or two?... what?... no: not this time. no time for explanations just now.... right!... exactly: nothing ever surprises you." (a smile flickered on his face.) "well, i want you to wire to constantinople--con-stant-i-no-ple--to some decent firm, and arrange for them to have eighty gallons of petrol and sixteen of lubricating oil ready first thing to-morrow.... yes, to the order of lieutenant smith.... also means of transport, motor if possible: if not, horses.--i say, central, don't cut me off, please. yes, i know my time's up: i'll renew.--you there, billy? that all right?... no, that's not all. i want you to meet me on epsom downs about midnight.... yes, coming by 'plane.... wait a bit. bring with you four bottles of bovril, couple of pounds meat lozenges, half-dozen tins sardines, bottle of brandy--yes, _and_ soda, as you say; couple of pounds chocolate, two tins coffee and milk.... no: i say, hold on.... also orographical maps--maps ... o-ro-graph-i-cal maps ... of asia minor, southern asia including india, straits settlements, polynesia.... i don't know: stanford's will be shut, but i _must_ have 'em.... that's up to you. bring 'em all down with you.... well, you'd better light a bonfire, so that i can tell where you are. you'll manage it? good man! see you about midnight then.... yes: i saw it; bad business. hope they'll manage to hold out.... tell you when i see you. goodbye!" he replaced the receiver, and turned to find rodier at his elbow. "now, roddy," he said, "we've got two hours. slip into it, man." for the next two hours they worked with scarcely the exchange of a word, overhauling every part of the engine quickly, but with methodical care, cleaning, oiling, testing the exhaust and the carburettor, filling the petrol tank and the reservoir of lubricating oil, examining the turbines and the propeller--not a square inch of the machinery escaped their attention. when their task was finished they were as hot and dirty as engine-drivers. they washed at a sink, filled two stone jars with water and placed them in the cage, adjusted the wind screens, and then sat down to rest and talk over things before starting on their night journey. smith pencilled some calculations on a piece of paper, referring more than once to the globe. then taking a clean piece, he drew up a schedule which had some resemblance to a railway timetable. "there! how does that strike you, roddy?" he said, when he had finished it. "it strikes me hot," said the frenchman. "what i mean, it will be hot work. but that is what i like." "so do i, so long as i can keep cool. at any rate we can start to the second. are you ready?" the sky was brilliant with stars when, just after midnight, they took their places in the aeroplane. twenty-five minutes' easy run, east-north-east, brought them within sight of the dull red glare northward that betrayed london. smith had so often made this journey that, even if the stars had been invisible, he could almost have directed his course by the lights of the villages and towns over which he passed. he knew them as well as a sailor knows the lights of the coast. just before half-past twelve, in a steep slope on his right, looming up black against the sky, he recognized box hill. passing this at a moderate pace, which allowed them to take a good look-out, they saw in a minute or two a small red flame flickering in the midst of a dark expanse. every second it grew larger as they approached; smith did not doubt it was the bonfire which he had asked his friend barracombe to kindle. dropping to the ground within a few feet of the fire, which turned out to be of considerable dimensions, he found a motor-car standing near it, and barracombe walking up and down. "well, old man," said barracombe, as smith alighted; "they call me a hustler, but you've hustled me this time. what in the world are you after?" "have you got the stuff?" returned smith with the curtness of an old friend. "yes; chocolate, bovril, the whole boiling; but--" "and the maps?" "_and_ the maps. a nice job i had to get them. all the shops were shut, of course. i stole 'em." "played the burglar?" "no. i went to the royal societies' club, and pinched them out of the library. posted a cheque to pay for 'em, but there was nobody about and i couldn't stop for red tape." "well, you're a big enough man to do such things with impunity. that's why i 'phoned you: knew you'd do it somehow." although barracombe was a potentate in the city, who controlled immense organizations, and held the threads of multifarious interests, he was very human at bottom, and smith liked him all the better for the glow of self-satisfaction that shone upon his face at this tribute to his omnipotence. "but now, what's it all mean, you beggar? are you off to reorganize the turkish navy or something?" "i'm off to the solomon islands." "what!" "that's it: going to have a shot at helping the poor old governor." "but, my dear fellow, he'll either be relieved or done for long before you can get there. the paper said they were practically unarmed." "exactly. i'm going to pick up some rifles and ammunition at one of the australian ports, and so help 'em to keep their end up until the gunboat reaches them. i'll probably get there a day before the boat." "but do you know how far it is? it's thirteen thousand miles or more." "i know. i'm going to have a try. i've got seven days to get there and back; then my leave's up. i can do it if the engine holds out, and if you'll help." "my dear chap, you know i'll do anything i can, but--well, upon my soul, you take my breath away. i'm not often surprised, but--what are you grinning at?" "at having knocked the wind out of your sails for once, old man. seriously, we've thought it out, roddy and i. we've more than once done a speed of a hundred and ninety. of course it's a different matter to keep it up for days on end, but how long have you had your motor-car?" "three months. why?" "and how often has it broken down?" "not at all; but i haven't done thirteen thousand miles at a go." "you've done more, with stoppages. well, i shall have stoppages--just long enough to clean and take in petrol and oil, and that's where i want your help. i want you to arrange for eighty gallons of petrol and sixteen of oil, to be ready for me at three places besides constantinople. here's the list; karachi, penang, and port darwin. could you cable me to the address in constantinople the names of firms at those places?" "of course. i'll look 'em up the first thing in the morning." "too late. it must be done to-night. if all goes well i shall be in constantinople soon after eight to-morrow--our time; and i must leave there in a couple of hours if i'm to stick to my programme." "very well. i'll look out some names as soon as i get back to town. you mean to keep me up all night. there you are, man; it's absurd; you can't drive night and day for seven days without sleep." "roddy and i shall have to take watch and watch." "but suppose you're caught in a storm; suppose the engine breaks down when you're over the sea--" "my dear chap, if we fall into the sea we shan't hurt ourselves so much as if it were land. i've got a couple of lifebuoys. if a storm comes on, too bad to sail through, we must come down and wait till it's over. of course any accident may stop us, even a speck of grit in the engine; but you're the last man in the world to be put off a thing by any bogey of what-might-be, and i'm going to look at the bright side. it's time i was off, so i'll take the things you've brought--oh, i see roddy has already shipped them, so i'll get aboard." "well, i wish you all the luck in the world. send me a wire when you land, will you, so that i may know how you are getting on." "if i have time. good-bye, old man; many thanks." they shook hands, and smith was just about to jump into his seat when there came the sound of galloping horses, and the incessant clanging of a bell. smith laughed. "your blaze has roused the epsom fire brigade," he said with a chuckle. "well, i thought i'd better make a big one to make sure of you," replied barracombe. smith waited with his hand on the lever until the fire-engine had dashed up. "what the blazes!" cried the captain, as he leapt from his seat, looking from the motor-car to the aeroplane with mingled amazement and indignation. "good-bye, billy," cried smith; "i'll leave you to explain." the propeller whirled round, the machine flew forwards, and in a few seconds was soaring with its booming hum into the air. smith glanced down and saw the fireman facing barracombe, his annoyance being evidently greater than his curiosity. he would have smiled if he could have heard barracombe's explanation. "w-w-why yes," he said, affecting a distressing stutter; "this kind of b-b-bonfire is a hobby of m-mine; it's about my only r-r-recreation. m-m-my name? certainly. my name's william bub-bub-barracombe, and you'll find me in, any day between t-ten and f-five, at mum-mum-mincing lane." chapter iii across europe to the bosphorous it had just turned half-past twelve on friday morning when smith said good-bye to his friend william barracombe on epsom downs. the sky was clear; the moon shone so brightly that by its light alone he could read the compass at his elbow, without the aid of the small electric lamp that hung above it. he set his course for the south-east, and flew with a light breeze at a speed of at least two hundred miles an hour. his machine was a biplane, and represented the work and thought of years. smith never minimized the part which laurent rodier had had in its construction; indeed, he was wont to say that without rodier he would have been nowhere. their acquaintance and comradeship had begun in the most accidental way. two years before, smith was taking part in an aeroplane race from paris to london. on reaching the channel, he found himself far ahead of all his competitors, except a frenchman, who, to his chagrin, managed to keep a lead of almost a mile. each carried a passenger. not long after leaving the french coast, a cloud of smoke suddenly appeared in the wake of the frenchman's aeroplane, and to smith's alarm the machine in a few seconds dropped into the sea. instantly he steered for the spot, and brought his own aeroplane to within a few feet of the water. to his surprise, he saw that part of the wreckage was floating, and a man, apparently only half conscious, was clinging to one of the stays. but for the engine having providentially become disconnected in the fall, the whole machine with its passengers must have sunk to the bottom. smith saw that it was impossible for him to rescue the man while he himself remained in his aeroplane, for the slightest touch upon the other would inevitably have submerged it. there was only one thing to do. leaving the aeroplane to the charge of his friend, he dived into the sea, and rising beside the man, seized him at the moment when his hold was relaxing, and contrived to hold him up until a fast motor launch, which had witnessed the accident, came up and rescued them both. the man proved to be the chauffeur of the aeroplane; his employer was drowned. smith lost the race, but he gained what was infinitely more valuable to him, the gratitude and devotion of laurent rodier. finding that the frenchman was an expert mechanician, smith took him into his employment. rodier turned out to be of a singularly inventive turn of mind, and the two, putting their heads together, evolved after long experiment a type of engine that enabled them to double the speed of the aeroplane. these aerial vessels had already attained a maximum of a hundred miles an hour, for progress had been rapid since paulhan's epoch-making flight from london to manchester. to the younger generation the aeroplane was becoming what the motor-car had been to their elders. it was now a handier, more compact, and more easily managed machine than the earlier types, and the risk of breakdown was no greater than in the motor-car of the roads. the engine seldom failed, as it was wont to do in the first years of aviation. the principal danger that airmen had to fear was disaster from strong squalls, or from vertical or spiral currents of air due to some peculiarity in the confirmation of the land beneath them. smith's engine was a compound turbine, reciprocating engines having proved extravagant in fuel. there were both a high and a low pressure turbine on the same shaft, which also drove the dynamo for the searchlight and the lamp illuminating the compass, and for igniting the explosive mixture. by means of an eccentric, moreover, the shaft worked a pump for compressing the mixture of hot air and petrol before ignition, the air being heated by passing through jackets round the high-pressure turbines. the framework of the planes consisted of hollow rods made of an aluminum alloy of high tensile strength, and the canvas stretched over the frames was laced with wire of the same material. to stiffen the planes, a bracket was clamped at the axis, and thin wire stays were strung top and bottom, as the masts of a yacht are supported. the airman was in some degree protected from the wind by a strong talc screen, also wire-laced; by means of this, and a light radiator worked by a number of accumulators, he was enabled to resist the cold, which had been so great a drawback to the pioneers of airmanship. in this aeroplane smith and rodier had made many a long expedition. they had found that the machine was capable of supporting a total weight of nearly , lbs., and since smith turned the scale at eleven stone eight, and rodier at ten stone, in their clothes, the total additional load they could carry was about lbs. eighty gallons of petrol weighed about lbs. with the cans, and twenty gallons of lubricating oil about lbs., so that there was a margin of nearly lbs. for food, rifles, and anything else there might be occasion for carrying at any stage of the journey. smith was in charge of the aeroplane attached to his ship, the admiralty having adopted the machine for scouting purposes. it was only recently that he had brought his own aeroplane to its present perfection, after laborious experiments in the workshops he established in the corner of his father's park, where he toiled incessantly whenever he could obtain leave, and where rodier was constantly employed. his machine had just completed its trials, and he expected to realize a considerable sum by his improvements. of this he had agreed to give rodier one half, and the frenchman had further stipulated that the improvements should be offered also to the french government. this being a matter of patriotism, smith readily consented, remarking with a laugh that he would not be the first to break the _entente cordiale_. just as a voyage round the world was a dream until drake accomplished it, so a flight round the world was the acme of every airman's ambition. it was the accident of his father's plight that crystallized in smith's mind the desires held in suspension there. the act was sudden: the idea had been long cherished. he had decided on his course after a careful examination of the globe borrowed from mr. dawkins, the village school-master. the most direct route from london to the solomon islands ran across norway and sweden, the white sea, northern siberia, manchuria, korea and japan, and thence to new guinea. but since it traversed some of the most desolate regions of the earth, where the indispensable supplies of petrol and machine oil could not be secured, he had chosen a route through fairly large centres of population, along which at the necessary intervals he could ensure, by aid of the telegraph, that the fuel would be in readiness. and now he was fairly off. constantinople was to be the first place of call. he knew the orographical map of europe as well as he knew his manual of navigation. it was advisable to avoid mountainous country as far as possible, for the necessity of rising to great heights, in order to cross even the lower spurs of the alps, would involve loss of time, to say nothing of the cold, and the risk of accident in the darkness. coming to the coast, in the neighbourhood of dover, about half-an-hour after leaving epsom, he steered for a point on the opposite shore of the channel somewhere near the franco-belgian frontier. as an experienced airman he had long ceased to find the interest of novelty in the scenes below him. the lights of the calais boat, and of vessels passing up and down the channel, were almost unnoticed. on leaving the sea, he flew over a flat country until, on his right, he saw in the moonlight a dark mass which from dead reckoning he thought must be the ardennes. the broad river he had just crossed, which gleamed like silver in the moonlight, was without doubt the meuse, and that which he came to in about an hour must be the moselle. at this point rodier, who had been dozing, sat up and began to take an interest in things; afterwards he told smith that they must have passed over the little village in which he was born, and he felt a sentimental regret that the flight was not by day, when he might have seen the red roof beneath which his mother still lived. after another half-hour smith began to feel the strain of remaining in one position, with all his faculties concentrated. the air was so calm, and the wind-screen so effective, that he suffered none of the numbing effects which the great speed might otherwise have induced; but it was no light task to keep his attention fixed at once on the engine, the map outspread before him, the compass, and the country below; and by the time he reached a still broader river, which could only be the rhine, he was tired. as yet he had been flying for only three hours: could he live through seven days of it? he had once crossed america in the canadian pacific, and though he got eight hours' sleep every night, he felt an utter wreck at the end of the journey. to be sure, he was now in the fresh air instead of a stuffy railway carriage, and he was riding as smoothly as on a steamer, without the jar and jolt that made journeys by rail so fatiguing. still, he thought it only good policy to pay heed to the first signs of strain, and so he slowed down until the noise of the engine had abated sufficiently for him to make his voice heard, and said: "roddy, you must take a turn. we're near the frontier between baden and alsace, i fancy. the bavarian hills can't be far off. you had better rise a bit, and don't go too fast, or we may be knocking our noses before we know where we are." "right o, mister," replied the frenchman. "you take forty winks, and eat some chocolate for what you call a nightcap." "a good idea. i'd rise to about , feet, i think. keep your eye on the aneroid." they exchanged places. smith ate two or three sticks of chocolate, took a good drink of water, and in five minutes was fast asleep. but his nap lasted no more than a couple of hours. it appeared to him that he never lost consciousness of his errand. when he opened his eyes the dawn was already stealing over the sky, and at the tremendous pace to which rodier had put the engine the aeroplane seemed to rush into the sunlight. far below, the earth was spread out like a patchwork, greens and whites and browns set in picturesque haphazard patterns; men moving like ants, and horses like locusts. "where are we?" he bawled in rodier's ear. the frenchman put his finger on the map. smith glanced at his watch; it was past five o'clock. they must be near the servian frontier. that broad streak of blue must be the danube. another three hours should see them at constantinople, the first stage of their journey. on they rushed, feeling chill in the morning air at the height of nearly five thousand feet. lifting his binocular, smith saw a railway train running in the same direction as themselves, and though from the line of smoke it was going at full speed, it appeared to be crawling like a worm, and was soon left far behind. now they were in bulgaria: those grey crinkly masses beyond must be the balkans. crossing the dragoman pass, they came into an upward current of air that set the machine rocking, and smith for the first time felt a touch of nervousness lest it should break down and fall among these inhospitable crags. rodier planed downwards, until they seemed to skim the crests. the air was calmer here: the aeroplane steadied; and when the mountains were left behind they came still lower, following the railway line. here was philippopolis, with its citadel perched on a frowning rock. it seemed but a few minutes when adrianople came into view, and but a few more when, descending to within five hundred feet of the ground, they raced over the plains of st. stefano. now rodier checked the speed a little, and steering past the large monument erected to the memory of the russians who fell in ' , came within sight of constantinople. smith was bewildered at the multitude of domes, minarets, and white roofs before him. it would soon be necessary to choose a landing-place, and rodier planed upwards, so that he could scan the whole neighbourhood in one comprehensive glance. "slow down!" smith shouted. there was a large open space below him; it was the hippodrome. he made a quick calculation of its length, and decided not to alight. a little farther on he came to the ministry of war with its large square; but there a regiment of soldiers was drilling. rodier steered a point to the north-west, and the aeroplane passed over the galata bridge that spans the golden horn. the bridge was thronged with people, who, as they caught sight of the strange machine flying over their heads, stood and craned their necks, and the airmen heard their shouts of amazement. to the right they saw, beyond the hill of pera, a stretch of low open country. passing the second bridge over the horn, they came to a broad green space just without the city. it was the old archery grounds of the sultans. "dive, roddy!" smith cried. rodier jerked the lever back: the humming clatter of the engine ceased; and the aeroplane swooped down as gracefully as a bird, alighting gently on the green sward. chapter iv a flying visit it was friday morning. groups of turkish women, out for the day, hastily veiled their faces and ran away, shrieking, "aman! aman! oh dear! oh dear!" swarms of children, clustering, like ants, about nougat-sellers, fled in terror, screaming that it was the devil's carriage, and the devil was in it. two greek teams playing at football stopped their game and gazed open-mouthed; young naval cadets at leapfrog rushed with shouts of excitement towards the aeroplane; and a crowd of jewish factory girls (for all races and classes use this common playground), realizing with quick wit what it meant, flocked up with shrill cries: "c'est un aviateur: allons voir!" a grave old turk mutters: "another mad englishman!" a greek shouts: "come on, pericles, and have a look"; and suddenly, amid the babel of unknown tongues smith hears an unmistakable english voice: "oh, confound it all, crawford, i'm in the ravine." peering through the crowd of inquisitive faces, smith sees two golfers and hails them heartily. they elbow their way through, and smith, who has not yet dared to leave the machine lest the mob should invade it and do it an injury, steps out and grasps the hand of a fellow englishman. "well, i'm hanged!" cried the new-comer; "charley smith, of all men in the world." "hullo, johnson!" said smith, recognizing in the speaker a messmate of his middy days, now a naval officer in the sultan's service; "i say, you can do something for me." "i dare say i can," replied the other laughing, "but where do you spring from? i didn't know you were in these parts." "only arrived five minutes ago, from london." johnson stared. "not in that machine?" "yes, certainly. eight hours' run; a record, isn't it? but i'm short of petrol. there's some ordered by wire from a man named benzonana; can you put me in the way of getting it quickly?" "of course. benzonana's a jew, with stores at kourshounlou han. but there's no hurry. we'll get some one to look after your aeroplane, and you'll come back with me to the club: this sort of thing doesn't happen every day, old man. by jove! do you really mean to say you've got here in eight hours from london?" "i left there at . this morning. barracombe--you remember him--saw me off. but i'm sorry i can't come with you, dick. i've only a couple of hours to spare, and must get the petrol at once." "my dear chap, are you mad? you can't go on at once, after eight hours in the air. you'll crock up. of course, if it's a wager--" "it's a matter of life and death." "oh, in that case! but i'm afraid you won't get off in two hours. things go slow in this country, and here's the first obstacle." he pointed beyond the crowd, and smith saw a troop of cavalry approaching at a hand-gallop. the throng of turks, jews, and armenians, who had all this time been volubly discussing the wonderful devil machine, broke apart with shouts of "yol ver! yol ver!" (make way!) the troop of horsemen clattered up, and smith saw himself and his aeroplane surrounded by a cordon of soldiers. the captain looked suspiciously from the two grimy travellers to the spick-and-span englishmen in golfing costume. he said something in turkish to his lieutenant. "what does he say?" asked smith in a whisper. "he's telling the lieutenant they must draw up a _procès-verbal_. don't lose your temper, old man; he talks of putting you under arrest as a bulgarian spy. you'll have to be patient. i'll do what i can, but if they make a diplomatic incident of it you'll be kept here a week or more." johnson went up to the captain and addressed him politely in turkish. the officer looked incredulous, and said something to his lieutenant, who trotted off across the field. in a few minutes johnson returned to smith, who was walking up and down in agitation. rodier was fast asleep in the car of the aeroplane. "i've given the captain the facts of the case," said johnson, "and he does me the honour to disbelieve me. the lieutenant has gone off to the ministry of war for instructions. meanwhile, you are under arrest, and they won't let you quit this spot without authority. if you really mean that you must go at once----" "i do indeed. the loss of an hour may ruin everything. my plan was to leave here at . ." "but, my dear fellow, it's that now, and past." smith drew out his watch: it indicated . . "london time," he said. "you're two hours in advance of it, aren't you?" johnson laughed. "of course, we get used to our own time, here. but i was saying, if you _must_ go, this is what i suggest. you can't appear, and it's as well, for you would certainly be delayed. i will go off to the embassy and hustle a bit. if the wheels can be hurried, they shall be, i assure you. then i'll go on to benzonana, get your petrol, and come straight back. meanwhile take my advice and have a sleep, like your man there. you look dead beat, and no wonder. why, i suppose you've had no breakfast?" "i've had something, but not bacon and eggs, certainly. i shall do very well. i will take your advice; sleep is better than food just now. when you see benzonana, ask if he has any addresses for me: barracombe was going to wire some from london. many thanks, old man." johnson said a word or two to the captain, who nodded gravely as smith flung himself down beside the aeroplane, and, resting his head on his arms, prepared to go to sleep. the golfer knew the short cuts from the ok meidan to the city. he went at a fine swinging pace through the hamlet of koulaksiz, down cassim pasha, up the steep hill through the cemetery, past the pera palace hotel. at that point he jumped into a carriage, and commanded the driver to make all speed to the british embassy. there he was lucky to find a friend of his on the staff of the embassy, a man well versed in the customs and character of the turks. "the only thing to do," said the official, when johnson had briefly explained the circumstances, "is to get an order from the minister of war; but we shall have to hurry, as he may be attending a council, or a commission, or something of the sort. what is your friend's hurry?" "i don't know. he says it's a matter of life or death." "i should say death if he goes at such a preposterous speed. it must have been nearly two hundred miles an hour: the brennan mono-rail is nothing to it. at any rate, it's rather a feather in our cap--this record, i mean, after so many have been made by the french and the americans--and if he has more recording to do we mustn't let oriental sluggishness stand in the way." this conversation passed while they were making their way from an upper room of the embassy to the street. there they jumped into an araba with a kavass on the box, dashed down pera street, past the banking quarter, over the galata bridge, up the sublime porte road and into the bayazid square, where they reached their destination. a crowd of servants was grouped about the grand entrance, and as johnson and his friend callard came up, the turks flocked around them officiously, assuring them with one voice that the minister was attending a commission. callard took no notice of them, but passed on with johnson into the central hall, where, sitting over a charcoal brazier, they found a group of attendants rolling cigarettes and discussing the merits of the city's new water supply. among them callard spotted an acquaintance, who rose and said politely, "welcome, dragoman bey, seat yourself." callard knew very well the necessity, in turkish administrations, of having a friend at court, and was aware, too, that where a high official failed, a servant might succeed. but he was too well acquainted with the customs of the country to attempt to hasten matters unduly. he began to discuss the weather; he compared the climate of his interlocutor's province with that of the city; he spoke of the approaching bairam festivities. then, apparently apropos of nothing, the man said, "i have been at the sheep-market to-day," a remark which callard took as a broad hint for bakshish: the turk wanted money to buy a fat sheep for the impending sacrifice. he produced two medjidiés. the effect was magical. the two englishmen were guided to the small chamber where the minister's coat hung, where his coffee was prepared and his official attendants sat. from this room access could be had to him without the knowledge of the hundreds of people outside waiting for an audience: wives of exiled officers, officials without employment, mothers come to plead for erring sons who had been dismissed. introduced to the minister's presence, callard wasted no time. the case was put to him; johnson, whom he knew by sight, vouched for the respectability and good faith of his old comrade; and the minister, apologizing for his subordinate's excess of zeal, scribbled an order permitting lieutenant smith to pursue his business free of all restrictions by the military authorities. "but," he said, "i have no power to give him exemption from custom house control." the englishmen thanked him profusely, and with many salaams retired. "we have succeeded better than i hoped," said callard, as they passed out; "but we are still only half way, confound it! we shall have to hurry up if smith is to get off in time. arabadji," he cried to the coachman awaiting them at the door, "the direction-general of the custom house." the driver whipped up his horse; they dashed down the sublime porte hill, and drew up at the entrance to the custom house. "is the director-general here?" callard asked of the doorkeeper. "he is a little unwell, but the english adviser is here." "we will see him," returned callard; adding to johnson, "we are in luck's way; the english adviser does his best to lessen the inconveniences of the circumlocution office." they went up-stairs, and were met by an attendant who showed them into an unpretentious room, where an englishman, wearing a fez, was seated at a table covered with papers and surrounded by a crowd of merchants and officials. questions of infinite variety were being submitted to him. "excellence, are we to accept as samples two dozen left-hand gloves? this merchant brought two dozen right-hand gloves last week." then the merchant and the official began to wrangle. for some minutes callard in vain tried to get a word in edgeways; then at last the councillor, pushing back his fez with an air of weary patience, turned to the newcomers and asked their business. a few words sufficed; the councillor rang a bell on the table, and when his secretary appeared, ordered him to make out a _laissez-passer_ for lieutenant smith for all the custom houses of the empire. this done, he turned once more to listen to the interminable dispute about the left-hand gloves. "we are doing well," said callard, as the two left the custom house. "there's still nearly an hour to spare. now for the petrol." they drove across the galata bridge to the district of kourshounlou han, and found that benzonana had had the petrol ready at early morning, and, what was more, had it at that moment in a conveyance for transport. johnson asked him if he had received any addresses from london, and the man handed him a folded paper. then, asking him to send the petrol and some machine oil at once to the ok meidan, the two englishmen reentered their carriage, dashed up the maltese street, past the bank and the economic stores, up the municipality hill, and again down by a short cut to the admiralty. it was an hour and a half since johnson had set forth on his errand. they found smith and rodier talking to the second golfer, boiling coffee in a little portable stove, and eating a kind of shortbread they had purchased of one of the simitdjis or itinerant vendors of that article who had been doing a roaring trade with the children, and even the elders, among the sightseers. "don't taste bad, spread with bovril," said smith, as johnson and callard alighted from their carriage. the crowd had grown to immense proportions. smith said they had been clamouring ever since johnson had been gone, and he would rather like to know what they said. "probably discussing whether the commander of the faithful won't order you to be flung into the bosphorus," said callard. the soldiers were still on guard round the aeroplane. johnson approached the captain and showed him the minister of war's order. almost at the same moment an aide-de-camp came galloping up from the minister himself to assure the officer that all was right. "but don't go yet, captain," said johnson anxiously. "my friend will require a clear space for starting his aeroplane, and without your men we shall never get the crowd back." the officer agreed to wait until the englishman departed, and johnson returned to smith to give him the paper he had received from benzonana. callard had already related their experiences at the ministry of war and the custom house. "but what about the petrol?" asked smith. "time's getting on." "he said he had it all ready to send. ah! i guess this is it coming." a way was parted through the crowd, and there came up with great rattling and creaking a heavy motor omnibus of the type that first appeared on the streets of london. it was crowded within and without with turks young and old. "where did you get that old rattler?" asked smith, laughing. "oh, several came out here a year or two ago; bought up cheap when the commissioner of police couldn't stand 'em any longer. they're always breaking down. no doubt your petrol is inside, and you may think yourself lucky it has got here." the car came to a stand: the turks on the roof retained their places; those within lugged out the cans of petrol and oil, and placed them in the aeroplane at rodier's direction. smith meanwhile was chatting with the englishmen, fending off their questions as to his destination. "i may send you a wire from my next stopping-place," he said. "that reminds me. will you send a wire to barracombe for me, johnson? you know his address. and one to my sister at home. i promised i would let her know. simply say 'all well.' now can you get the captain to clear the course for me?" the captain and his men took a long time over this business, and smith longed for a few london policemen to show them how to do it. but the excited crowd was at length forced back so far as to allow a sufficient running-off space. smith shook hands warmly with the englishmen; with rodier he took his place in the car; then at a jerk of the lever the aeroplane shot forward, and, amid cries of "good luck!" from the englishmen, clapping of hands and loud "mashallahs!" from the excited mob, it rose gracefully into the air. "only five minutes late, mister," said rodier. "all goes well." chapter v the tomb of ur-gur charles thesiger smith was not one of the romantic, imaginative order of men. even if he had been, the speed at which he travelled over the bosphorus gave scant opportunity for observation of the scenes passing below. he had no eye for the tramps, laden with grain from odessa, coming down from the black sea; for the vessels of ancient shape and build, such as the argonauts might have sailed in when questing for the golden fleece; for the graceful caiques rowed by boatmen in zouaves of crimson and gold, in the sterns of which the flower of circassian beauty in gossamer veils reclined on divans and carpets from the most famous looms of persia and bokhara. these visions touched him not: he was crossing into asia minor, a country of which he knew nothing, and his attention was divided between the country ahead and the map with which barracombe had nefariously provided him. the next stage of his journey, the first place where a fresh supply of petrol awaited him, was karachi, in the north-west corner of india. it was distant about , miles. a gallon of petrol would carry him for forty-five miles, and his tank had a capacity of eighty gallons, so that with good luck he would not need to replenish it until he reached karachi. though he hoped that his own endurance and the engine's would stand the strain of the whole distance without stopping, he had chosen his course so that, if he felt the necessity of alighting for brief intervals, he might at least find pleasant country and amicable people. his aim was to cross the turkish provinces in asia and strike the persian gulf, a slightly longer route than if he had gone through central persia, but having the great advantage of affording a possible half-way house at bagdad, basra, or bushire, in each of which towns he would almost certainly find europeans. it had the further advantage that, when he had once sighted the gulf, he would have no anxiety about the accuracy of his course, since by keeping generally to the coastline of persia and baluchistan he could not fail to arrive at karachi. it was a great thing to be independent of nautical observations, for as he approached the shores of india it might be difficult to take his bearings by his instruments, this being the season of the monsoon. when he left constantinople his anemometer indicated a velocity of eighteen miles in the south-west wind, which, as he was steering south-east, was partly in his favour. one of the disabilities which he, in common with all airmen, suffered, was the impossibility of ascertaining the velocity of the wind when he was fairly afloat. he had to make allowance for it by sheer guesswork, unless he was prepared to slow down or even to alight. he had reckoned that, even with the slight assistance of the wind, he could hardly hope to reach the head of the persian gulf before six o'clock, which would be past nine by the sun; but he thought he might reasonably expect to reach the euphrates before sunset; and since the map assured him that that river ran a fairly direct course to the gulf, he might follow it without much difficulty if the night proved clear, and so assure himself that he was not going astray. the country over which he was now flying was hilly, and he kept at a fairly high altitude. the map showed him that the great taurus range lay between him and the eastern extremity of the mediterranean. within an hour and a half after leaving constantinople he came in sight of its huge bleak masses stretching away to right and left, but still a hundred miles or more distant, although, on the right, spurs of the cilician part of the range jutted out much nearer to him. on the right, too, he descried from his great height a broad and glittering expanse of water, which the map named lake beishehr. making for the gap in the mountains near the cilician coast he found himself passing over a comparatively low country, and soon afterwards descried the blue waters of the mediterranean and the island of cyprus rising out of it a hundred miles away. setting now a more easterly course, he passed over an ironbound coast, its perpendicular cliffs fringed with dwarf pines; and then over a large town which could be none other than antioch. half-an-hour more brought him within sight of another city, doubtless aleppo. he still steered almost due east, though a point or two southward would be more direct, because he wished to avoid the syrian desert; a breakdown in such a barren tract of country would mean a fatal delay. soon afterwards he reached a broad full river, flowing rapidly between verdant banks. "the euphrates," he shouted to rodier. "ah! i wish we had time for a swim," replied the man. for some time smith followed the general course of the river, avoiding the windings. severely practical as he was, he could not pass through this seat of ancient civilizations without letting his mind run back over centuries of time, recalling the names of sennacherib, cyrus and alexander; and how cyrus had not shrunk from drying up the bed of this very river in his operations against babylon. on the ground over which he now flew mighty armies had fought, kingdoms had been lost and won, four or five thousand years ago. the passage of so modern a thing as an aeroplane seemed almost a desecration of the spirit of antiquity, an insult to the _genius loci_. hitherto the weather and the conditions for flying had been perfect. the wind had dropped, the sun shone brilliantly, but its heat was tempered to the airmen by the very rapidity of their flight. at length, however, about two hours before sunset, smith noticed a strange wobbling of the compass needle. it swung this way and that with rapid gyrations, its movements becoming more violent every moment. suddenly the aeroplane reeled; the sky seemed to become black in one instant; there was a vivid flash of lightning, followed by a tremendous thunder-clap and a flood of rain. smith was desperately perturbed. he had run straight into an electric storm. it was hopeless to attempt to make headway against it; the strain upon the planes would certainly prove more than they could stand. he had already slackened speed and planed downwards, so as to be able to alight if he must, with the result that the machine became more subject to vertical eddies of the wind, that continually altered its elevation, now hurling it aloft, now plunging it as it were into an abyss. once or twice he tried to rise above the storm, but abandoned the attempt when he saw how great an additional strain it placed upon the planes. it seemed safer to keep the engine going steadily and make no attempt to steer. he was no longer over the river, and the ground below was comparatively flat, presenting many a clear spot suitable for alighting; but with the wind blowing a hurricane a descent might well prove disastrous. the worst accidents he had suffered in the early days of his air-sailing had always happened near the ground, when there was no way on the machine to counteract the force of the wind. all that he could do was to cling on and do his best by quick manipulation of the levers to keep the machine steady. after fifteen very uncomfortable and, indeed, alarming minutes, the violence of the wind abated, and the rain became intermittent, instead of pouring down in a constant flood. the compass was oscillating less jumpily, and it was now possible to see some distance ahead. owing to the extraordinary behaviour of the compass, the baffling gusts of wind, and the necessity of keeping his whole attention fixed on the machinery, he had lost all idea of direction and even of time, and he began to be anxious lest darkness should overtake him before he had regained his course. but guessing that the area of the storm was of small extent, he hoped to run out of it, and increased his speed, expecting in a few minutes to discover the euphrates again, when all would be well. unhappily, though the wind had dropped, the sky became blacker than ever, and another deluge of rain fell, so densely that at a distance of a few yards it seemed to be an opaque wall. coming to the conclusion that he had better take shelter until he could at least see his way, he planed downwards, calling to rodier to keep a sharp look-out for a landing place. suddenly, in the midst of the downpour, a huge dark shape loomed up ahead, appearing to rise almost perpendicularly above the plain. for a few seconds it seemed to smith that he was dashing into a solid wall of rock. luckily he had checked the speed of the engine. he now stopped it altogether, but the aeroplane glided on by its impetus, and he felt, with a sinking of the heart, that nothing could save it. all at once the mass in front seemed to open. instinctively smith touched his steering lever; the aeroplane glided into the fissure; in two or three seconds there was a bump and a jolt; it had come to a stop, and was resting on an apparently solid bottom. monsieur alphonse marie de montausé, a distinguished member of the academy of inscriptions, a pillar of the société d'histoire diplomatique, and a foreign member of the royal society, had been for nearly a year engaged at nimrud in the work nearest to his heart, the work of excavation. it was a labour of love for which he was very jealous. he believed it was his mission to reveal to an astonished world the long-buried secrets of ancient civilizations; he could not bear a rival near the throne of archæological eminence; and in this exclusive attitude of mind he had undertaken this expedition without the companionship of a fellow-countryman, or even of any white man, devoting himself to his patient and laborious toil, assisted only by an egyptian cook, a number of arab labourers, and such natives of babylonia as he had attracted to his service by the promise, faithfully kept, of good and regular pay. his excavations had been, on the whole, disappointing. he had unearthed specimens of pottery and metal-work, tradesmen's tablets of accounts, seals, bas-reliefs, differing little from those which could be found in many a european museum; but he had not for many months lighted upon any unique object, such as would open a new page in the history of archæological research, and make europe ring with his name. his money was nearly all expended; his permit from the ottoman government was on the point of expiring; he was sadly contemplating the necessity of leaving this barren field and returning to france; he had, indeed, already despatched a portion of his caravan to begin its long journey to the coast, remaining with a few men to finish the excavation of the _tell_--the mound covering the remains of a babylonish city--on which he was engaged, in the hope of discovering something of value, even at the eleventh hour. he had almost completed it, and he could easily hurry after the slow-moving caravan, and overtake it in a day or two. one friday, to his great joy, he came across, in the wall of the _tell_, a large inscribed mass of brickwork, weighing, perhaps, half-a-ton, which, from the cursory inspection he was able to make of it in the semi-darkness, he believed might prove sufficiently valuable to compensate all the disappointments of the weary months. in his enthusiasm he had no more thought of his caravan, and though a terrific thunderstorm burst over the place just as his men were getting into position the rude derrick by means of which they would lower the masonry into the trench cut in the side of the _tell,_ his ardour would suffer no intermission in the work. it is true that in the trench they were in some measure protected from the storm. the lashings had been fixed on the brickwork under his careful superintendence; the men were on the point of hauling on the ropes, when a thing of monstrous size and uncouth shape glided silently into the opening of the trench, and came to rest there. instantly the men gave a howl of terror, released the ropes, and took to their heels. monsieur alphonse marie de montausé was left alone. remembering that he was an explorer, an enthusiast, and a frenchman, the reader will hardly need to be told that monsieur de montausé was beside himself with fury. the dropping of the ropes had caused the masonry to fall against one of the feet of the derrick, and it came down with a crash. but this was not the worst. in the semi-darkness, the nature of the intruder could not have been clear to monsieur de montausé; but he heard a voice calling in some unknown tongue; some human being had dared to interlope upon his peculiar domain; and the wrathful explorer did only what might have been expected of him: he began to pour forth a torrent of very violent reproof and objurgation, to which the sober english tongue can do scant justice. "ah! scélérats!" he cried. "what do you mean? de quoi mêlez-vous? you are rogues: you are trespassers. know you not that i--oui, moi qui vous parle--have alone the right of entry into this _tell_? has not the administration of the french republic arranged it? allez-vous-en, allez-vous-en, coquins, scélérats!" "mais, monsieur--" began rodier, stepping out of the car. the sound of his own language only added fuel to monsieur de montausé's wrath. had some rival appeared on the scene at the very moment when he saw the crown of his long toil? had some overeager competitor obtained a permit, come before his time, and arrived to enter upon the fruits of his predecessor's labours and rob him of half his glory? "mais, monsieur," said rodier, but the explorer fairly shrieked him to silence, approached him, smote one fist with the other, and hurled abuse at him with such incoherent volubility that smith, whose french was pretty good, could not make out a word of it, and held on to the levers in helpless laughter. "mais, monsieur, je vous assure--" began rodier again, when he thought he saw a chance; but the explorer shouted "retirez-vous! j'insiste que vous vous en lliez, tout de suite, tout de suite!" and then he began over again, abuse, recrimination, expostulation, entreaty, pouring in full tide from his trembling lips. more than once rodier tried to stem the flood, but finding that it only ran the faster, he resigned himself to listen in silence, and stood looking mournfully at his ireful fellow-countryman until he at length was forced to stop from sheer lack of breath. "mais, monsieur," rodier's voice was very conciliatory--"i assure you that our visit is purely accidental. my friend and myself desire only too much to quit the scene. but you perceive, monsieur, that our aeroplane--" "ah, bah! aeroplane! what have i to do with aeroplanes? you interrupt my work, i say: the aeroplane is a thing of the present; i have to do only with the past; there were no aeroplanes in babylonia. once more i demand that you withdraw, you and your aeroplane, and leave me to pursue my work in tranquillity." "mais, monsieur, il s'agit précisément de ça! withdraw: yes, certainly, at the quickest possible: but how? you perceive that our aeroplane is so placed that one cannot extricate it without assistance. if monsieur will be so good as to lend us his distinguished help, so that we may remove it from this hole--" "hole! mille diables! it is a trench; a trench excavated with many pains in this _tell_. as for assistance, i give you none, none absolutely. you brought your aeroplane here without assistance: then remove it equally without assistance; immediately: already you waste too much time." "mais, monsieur, our mission is of life or death." "n'importe, n'importe. i tell you i am quite unmoved. no interest is superior to that of science--the science of archæology. i tell you i have just made a discovery of the highest importance. i have but a short time left; you, you and your ridiculous machine, have scared away my imbeciles of workmen; they will not return until you have gone away; the leg of my derrick is smashed; i demand, i beseech, i implore--" "pardon, monsieur," said smith, coming forward, and courteously saluting the stout, spectacled little frenchman, whom he could just see in the growing darkness. "we regret extremely having put you to this trouble and inconvenience, and i assure you that but for the storm we should never have dreamed of entering here, and interrupting the great work on which you are engaged." smith's quiet voice and slow, measured utterance made an instant impression. a man can hardly rave against a person who remains calm. moreover, the frenchman was mollified by the speaker's evident appreciation of the value of his work. "eh bien, monsieur?" he said courteously. "i am a seaman, monsieur," proceeded smith; "my friend here is an engineer, and between us i have no doubt that we can repair the leg of your derrick and assist you to place the masonry where you will. all that i would ask is that you in return will help us to remove our aeroplane from your trench into the open plain." "certainly, certainly; with much pleasure," said the frenchman eagerly; "i will light my lantern, so that we may see what we are about." smith and rodier stripped off their drenched coats, and by the light of monsieur de montausé's lantern soon spliced up the broken leg of the derrick, set the contrivance in a stable position, and lowered the mass of brickwork to the spot the explorer pointed out. it was no sooner safely settled than monsieur de montausé, oblivious of everything else, bent over it, and, holding one of the lanterns close to the inscription, began to pore over the fascinating hieroglyphics. smith could not help smiling at the little man's enthusiasm: but it was necessary to remind him of his share of the compact. "ah, oui, oui," he said impatiently; "in a few moments. this is a magnificent discovery, monsieur; your aeroplane is completely uninteresting to me. this is nothing less than a portion of the tomb of ur-gur; see, the inscription: 'the tomb of ur-gur, the powerful champion, king of ur, king of shumer and akkad, builder of the wall of nippur to bel, the king of the lands.' this was written nearly five thousand years ago; what is the aeroplane, a thing of yesterday, in comparison with this glorious relic of antiquity?" "precisely, monsieur; beside it the aeroplane sinks into insignificance; yet, as a man of honour--" "ah, oui!" cried the frenchman, starting up. "let us be quick, then; you take one end, i the other. you push, i pull; voilà!" "it is perhaps not so simple, monsieur," said smith; "we must first see that there is no obstruction, and then if you could persuade some of your men to come back, we should be able to remove the aeroplane more quickly. i fear we could hardly do it alone." monsieur de montausé was so anxious to get rid of his visitors that he assented eagerly to this course. four or five of the men, drawn back by the light of the lantern, were hovering at the end of the trench; the explorer hailed them, and assuring them that they would suffer no harm, persuaded, them to lend a hand. rodier, meanwhile, had walked through the trench to see that the course was clear, and shoved aside with little ceremony some of the objects monsieur de montausé had unearthed. with the aid of the frenchman himself and his men the aeroplane was carefully dragged out into the open. "it is done. adieu, messieurs," said monsieur de montausé. then, turning to his men: "as for you, imbeciles, i have no more need of you at present. go and eat your supper. i shall eat nothing until i have deciphered the whole of the inscription." "one moment, monsieur," said smith; "we were driven out of our course by the storm, and i am not certain of our whereabouts. can you tell me the latitude and longitude of this place?" "ah, no. i am not a geographer. the surface of the globe: bah! it is the rind of the orange, it is the shell of the nut; i seek the juice, the kernel. but i can tell you this: we are not far from the left bank of the tigris, near its confluence with the zab, and about a hundred kilometres from the ruins of nineveh. adieu, monsieur." the two airmen resumed their coats, switched on their searchlight, and made a rapid examination of the engine, which appeared to have suffered no injury: then took their places. when the sparking began, and noisome smoke poured from the exhaust, the workmen again yelled, but as the machine, after a short run, sailed noisily into the air, they fell prostrate in utter consternation. chapter vi with gun runners in the gulf a glance at the sodden map showed smith that he had been driven at least fifty miles out of his course. he could not afford time to return to the euphrates: he would now have to follow the course of the tigris until it joined the larger river. it would be folly to attempt a direct flight to karachi, for in so doing he would have to pass over the mountainous districts of southern persia and baluchistan, where, if any mishap befel the aeroplane, there would be absolutely no chance of finding assistance. luckily the moon was rising, and by its light he was soon able to strike the tigris near the spot where it flowed between the hills gebel hamrin and gebel mekhul into the babylonian plain. from this point, keeping the hills well on his left, he steered south-east until about midnight he came upon an immense expanse of water, shimmering below him in the moonlight, which he concluded to be nothing else but the persian gulf. by this time he was both tired and hungry. rodier and he had eaten a few biscuits spread with bovril, and drunk soda-water, while they were examining the engine, but they both felt ravenous for a good square meal. smith, however, had set his heart on completing his flight to karachi, where his scheme would allow an hour or two for rest and food, and he was the more determined to carry out his programme, if possible, because of the delay caused by the storm. his plan was to keep close to the left shore of the persian gulf, not following its indentations, but never losing sight of the sea. the coast, he saw by the map, made a gentle curve for some six hundred miles, then swept southward opposite the projecting oman peninsula, and thence ran almost due east to karachi. the coast was for the most part hilly, and as he was now travelling at full speed there was always a risk, unless he flew high, of his being brought up by a spur or a rock jutting out into the gulf; and as he did not wish to maintain too great an altitude, he altered his course a point or two to the south, flying over the sea, but not far from the shore. rodier and he took turns at the engine, each dozing from sheer weariness during his spell off. they flew on all through the night, and when dawn began to break, saw straight ahead land stretching far to right and left. there was no doubt that this was the oman peninsula, which, jutting out from the arabian mainland, almost closes the gulf. steering now a slightly more northward course, and rising to clear the hills of the peninsula, smith passed over the neck of land, and found himself in the gulf of oman, half-way between the head of the persian gulf and karachi. now that it was light, there was no longer the same necessity for keeping out to sea. indeed, it was merely prudent to come over the land, so that if anything happened to the engine he would at least have an opportunity of descending safely. the engine had worked so well that he scarcely feared a breakdown, but he was not the man to take unnecessary risks. glancing at his watch, he calculated that he was about two hours behind time. as he had been flying at full speed except during the storm, he could hardly hope to make up the lost time except by diminishing the intervals for rest which he had allowed for before starting. it was, at any rate, important to lose no more. he had just come to this conclusion when there was a sudden snap in the framework of one of the planes. looking round anxiously, he at once reduced the speed, feeling very thankful that the mischief had not developed during the storm, when the aeroplane must have inevitably crumpled up. now, however, the weather was fair, and he could choose his landing-place. he had no doubt that the accident was due to the enormous strain which had been put upon the structure by the storm. a glance showed him that the plane was still rigid enough to stand the strain of motion at a lower speed, but that would neither satisfy him nor achieve success, and so he decided to alight and try to remedy the defect. as he began to plane downwards, rodier pointed to a cluster of huts at the mouth of a small river. a dhow lay moored to a rough wooden jetty beyond the hamlet. between it and the huts was an open space of considerable extent, and though when rodier first drew his attention to the place they must have been more than a mile distant from it, he could see, even without his binocular, a crowd of people moving about the open space. "we may find a forge there," shouted rodier. smith nodded, but he felt a little uneasy. it seemed likely that he had now reached what is known as the mekran coast, and he remembered the ill reputation it bore with the officers of british ships who had seen service in these waters. the people had been described as greedy, conceited, unwilling, and unreasonable as camels, and their treacherous and cruel disposition was such that, thirty or forty years before, europeans who landed on any part of their seaboard would have done so at great peril. smith, however, had a vague recollection of their having been taught a salutary lesson by the karwan expedition, and no doubt the presence of british war vessels in the gulf had done something to correct their turbulence. he had to choose between finding a landing-place inland, out of sight of the inhabitants of this fishing village, and landing among them on the chance of getting the use of a forge, for it would probably be necessary to weld the broken stay. deciding for the latter course, he steered straight for the village, and, circling round it, dropped gently to earth in the open space near the jetty. the aeroplane had been seen and heard some time before it reached the spot, and its flight was watched with open-mouthed curiosity by the men, who paused in their work of carrying ashore bulky packages from the dhow. when they saw the strange visitant from the sky descending upon them, they gave utterance to shrill cries of alarm, dropped their burdens, and fled in hot haste up the shore, disappearing behind the huts. as he alighted, smith noticed, close to the aeroplane, one of these packages, which had burst open in the fall, and saw with surprise that it contained rifles. "i say, roddy," he said; "this is rather unlucky. we have interrupted a gun-running." "ah, no, it is lucky, mister," returned the frenchman. "we shall not need now to buy rifles _en route_; we can help ourselves; these are contraband, without doubt." "that's true, i suspect; rifles are sure to be contraband here; but this is a wild district, and the people won't be too well-disposed towards us, coming and stopping their little game. we've a right to impound the rifles, i daresay, but i really think we had better look the other way." "wink the other eye, as you say. well, at present there is no one to look at. the people do not speak french, i suppose?" "nor english, probably. they are baluchis, i suppose, and perhaps haven't seen a white man before. just look and see what's wrong with the stay while i go up to the village and parley." rodier stripped to his shirt, got his tools out of the little box in which they were kept, and set to work in as unconcerned and business-like a way as if he had been in the workshop at home. meanwhile smith, puffing at a cigarette, walked slowly towards the nearest hut. his easy manner gave no sign of alertness; but in reality he was keeping a keen look-out, and had already descried some of the natives peeping round the walls of the huts. having taken a few steps he halted, looked inquiringly around, and hailed the lurking villagers with a stentorian "ahoy!" at first there was no response, but on his advancing a little farther and repeating the call two or three swarthy and dirty-looking men came slowly from behind the nearest hut. smith noticed the long spears they carried. he smiled and held out his hand, but the men stopped short and eyed him doubtfully, jabbering among themselves. he bade them good morning, inviting them to come and have a talk, but saw at once by the lack of expression on their faces that they did not understand him. somewhat perplexed, and trying to think of signs by which he could explain what he wanted, he saw a different figure emerge from the background, a small, bent, olive-skinned old man, clad in a white turban and dhoti. he came forward hesitatingly. "salaam, sahib," he said humbly. "oh, i say, can you speak english?" asked smith eagerly, suspecting that the man was a hindu. "speak english very fine, sahib," replied the man, with a smile. "thank goodness! well, now, is there a smith in the village? you know what i mean: a blacksmith, a man who makes iron things?" it was not a very clear definition, but the hindu understood him. "yees, sahib," he said; "smif that way." he pointed to a hut at a little distance. "that's all right. fetch the smith along, and i'll get you to tell him what i want." "i know, sahib, i tell them. i do big trade in this place. they silly jossers, sahib; think you a djinn." "well, put that right, and hurry up, will you?" the hindu salaamed and returned to the group of villagers. an excited colloquy ensued, the man pointing now to the englishman, now to the aeroplane, and now to the dhow alongside the jetty. presently the hindu came back. "silly chaps say what for you come here, sahib. you know too much, they say." smith guessed that they supposed his visit had something to do with the smuggling operations in which they were engaged. he explained quickly that he was merely an ordinary traveller, on his way to india in one of the new air carriages in which englishmen were accustomed to make long journeys, and he promised to pay the smith well for any assistance he could give in repairing a slight injury which the carriage had suffered in a storm. the hindu carried this message to the villagers, who were now increasing in number as they regained confidence, and after another discussion he returned, accompanied by a big man, the dirtiest in the crowd, the others following slowly. he found it no easy matter, through his smiling but incompetent interpreter, to explain that he wanted the use of the smith's appliances. to quicken their apprehension he produced a couple of half-crowns, pointing out that they were worth four rupees, and offered these as payment when the work was done. the hindu recognized the king's head on the coins, and eagerly assured the baluchis that they were good english money; but the smith, true to the oriental habit of haggling, rejected them scornfully as insufficient, and was backed up by a chorus of indignant cries from the crowd. smith, impatient at the loss of time, and forgetting that any show of eagerness would merely encourage the natives to delay, was incautious enough to show them a half-sovereign. though the hindu appeared to do his best to persuade them that this was generous pay, they showed even greater contempt, and became more and more clamorous. "greedy chaps want more, sahib," said the hindu deprecatingly. "very well," replied smith, pocketing the coin. "we'll do without them." he turned his back on them, and returned at a saunter to the aeroplane, the crowd, now swelled by the arrival of apparently all the inhabitants of the village, old and young, pressing on behind. it was evident that they had now lost their fear of the strange machine. "how are you getting on, roddy?" he asked. "these asses won't take half-a-sovereign to lend a hand." "imbeciles! but the stay must be welded." "well, we'll pretend we can do without 'em. i daresay that will bring them round." for a few minutes the two men made a great show of activity, completely disregarding the crowd curiously watching them. the plan had the desired effect. the hindu came forward and said that the smith would accept the gold piece, if he were paid in advance. "not a bit of it. if he likes to help he shall have it when the work is done," replied smith, turning to resume his interrupted work. the smith, now fearful of losing his customer, began to abuse the hindu for not completing the bargain. at length, with a show of reluctance, smith relented, and with the aid of the villagers the aeroplane was wheeled to the smithy. it proved to be very poorly equipped, having a very primitive forge and a pair of clumsy native bellows; but rodier set to work to make the best of it, welding the broken stay with the smith's help, while his employer remained outside the hut to keep watch over the aeroplane, which the people were beginning to examine rather more minutely than he liked. to drive them off, smith set the engine working, causing a volume of smoke to belch forth in the faces of the nearest men, who ran back, holding their noses and crying out in alarm. smith filled in the minutes by opening a tin of sardines and eating some of the fish sandwiched between biscuits. the sight of small fish brought from a box struck the villagers with amazement, which was redoubled when he removed the stopper from a soda-water bottle and drank what appeared to be boiling liquid. presently, however, he noticed that some of the men were quietly withdrawing towards the huts, behind which they disappeared. among them was the hindu, who was apparently summoned, and departed with a look of uneasiness. smith went on with his meal unconcernedly, though he was becoming suspicious, especially when he found by-and-by that all the men had left him, the crowd consisting now only of women and children. "nearly done, roddy?" he called into the hut. "yes, mister. the smith has took his hook, though." "all the men have gone behind the huts. i wonder what they are up to." rodier took up a hammer, and gently broke a hole in the flimsy back wall of the hut. "there's a big crowd beyond the village," he reported. "having a pow-wow, too. they've got spears and muskets." "that looks bad. hurry up with the stay. the sooner we get out of this the better." he noticed that the smith had now rejoined the crowd. no doubt he intended to make sure of getting his money. the mob behind the huts was growing noisy, and smith gave a sigh of relief when rodier came out with the mended stay and proceeded to fix it in place. while he did this, smith beckoned some of the lads forward, and made them understand by signs that he wished them to help him wheel the aeroplane round. the slope between it and the sea was very rough ground, but it afforded space for starting off, and the moment rodier had finished his job he swung the aeroplane round and started the engine. the smith, looking on suspiciously, took this as a signal for departure and rushed forward, clamouring shrilly for the promised payment. smith gave him the half-sovereign, then jumped into his place, rodier running beside the machine as it moved down the slope. at this moment there was a shout from the village, which swelled into a furious din as the men came rushing from behind the huts, and saw the white men preparing to leave them. the aeroplane gathered way. rodier was on the point of clambering into his place, as he had often done before, by means of the carriage supporting the wheels. but the machine jolting over the rough ground delayed him. the yelling crowd rushed down, some hurling spears, and others endeavouring to seize the frenchman. he kept his grip on the rail, but another jolt forced him to loosen his hold, the machine suddenly sprang upwards, and rodier fell backward among his captors. smith scarcely realized what had happened until he was many feet in the air; but seeing at a glance over his shoulder that rodier was left behind, he put the helm over and warped the planes to a perilous degree. the aeroplane was fifty or sixty yards from the starting place when smith's action caused it to swerve like a wounded bird; then it recovered itself, and turning in a narrow circle swept back towards the confused knot of men on the beach. smith planed down straight upon them, intending to land and rush to rodier's assistance. but perceiving that the frenchman was struggling on the ground, with a dozen turbaned figures clustering over him, he steered straight for the middle of the group. there was a dull thud, and then another, and he felt a harsh jolt as the chassis struck some of the standing men. smith had stopped the engine when he turned, and the aeroplane, brought up by this obstruction, sank to the ground, being saved from damage only by the spring attachments of the carriage. drawing his revolver, smith leapt from his seat and dashed towards the group. six or eight men lay on the ground, some of them too badly hurt to rise; the rest of the crowd had taken to their heels, and the whole population was in full flight, the children screaming with terror. in an instant, to smith's relief, rodier sprang to his feet. together they turned the machine once more towards the sea. "are you hurt, roddy?" asked smith. "ah, the villains! they have given me a dig or two. let us get away from this, mister. we are getting later and later." he jumped into the car; smith again started the engine; and as the machine rose into the air it was followed by a howl of rage from the baffled baluchis. half-a-dozen slugs pattered about it, piercing several holes in the planes. already one of these had been gashed by a spear, which still stuck in it. but no serious damage had been done, and in a few seconds the aeroplane was flying at full speed over the sea. it is one of the drawbacks of aerial travel that conversation can only be carried on in shouts. smith would have liked to talk over things with rodier, but the noise of the engine and the boom of the air as the machine cut through it smothered his voice unless he bellowed. only a few words passed between them as they flew along a little distance out to sea. rodier bathed two slight wounds he had received in the scuffle with water from the pots filled during the storm, and assured smith that they were nothing to trouble about. some few minutes after leaving the inhospitable village they noticed the smoke of a steamer, a good deal nearer the shore than the dhows which they had seen occasionally on the gulf. it was too far distant for them to determine its size and nationality, or to guess the direction in which it was bound. smith decided to speak it in passing, but, observing that the stay had not been thoroughly fixed in the hurry of their departure, he looked about for a suitable landing-place, where the finishing touches might be given. the coast was rocky and precipitous, and the tops of the cliffs were strewn for a considerable distance inland with innumerable boulders, large and small, which would render landing dangerous, and starting perhaps more dangerous still. at length, however, just as he was thinking of running inland, in spite of the loss of time, rodier caught sight of a large expanse of smooth rock, left bare by the falling tide. he pointed it out to smith, who made a hasty calculation of its extent, and judged that it would serve his purpose. steering to it, he circled round it and dropped gently upon its western end, scaring off a flamingo that was sunning itself there in solitary state. "we came well out of that, roddy," he said, as they set to work on the stay. "but we lose time by all these stops, mister," replied rodier. "we can perhaps make it up if you keep your gold in your pocket." "i made a mistake there, certainly. if anything of the kind occurs again our motto must be 'take it or leave it.'" "just as you say to a cabby." "you are sure you are not hurt much?" "no more than with a cat's scratches. you came in the stitch of time, though." "'a stitch in time saves nine,'" quoted smith, smiling a little at the frenchman's mistake. "that's why we had better make a good job of this. we don't want to stop again." ten minutes' work sufficed to fix the stay firmly in its place. smith again started the engine, the aeroplane taking the air when it was only half-way across the rock. they looked around for the steamer when they were again going at full speed, but it was no longer visible. in a few minutes, however, the smoke again came into view, and as they rapidly approached it smith was delighted to see that it came from the funnel of a small gunboat, which was steaming in the same direction as their own flight, making probably for bombay or karachi. the chances were that such a vessel in these waters was british, so smith steered towards it, shouting to rodier that they might perhaps arrange a tit-for-tat with the baluchis. there was much excitement on board the gunboat when the aeroplane planed down and soared over it at its own pace, just high enough to be out of reach of sparks from the funnel. "who are you?" shouted smith through a megaphone. "gunboat _penguin_, captain durward, bound for bombay. who are you?" came the answer. "lieutenant thesiger smith, of the _imperturbable,_ bound for karachi." "the deuce you are! what do you call that vessel of yours?" "my pet lamb," replied smith, grinning. "i say, sir, i've no time for explanations. are you policing these seas?" "this is my beat. why?" "some baluchis are gun-running fifty miles up the coast, that's all. thought you'd like to know." "are they, begad! thanks for the tip. can you describe the spot?" "a tiny village lying behind a point. a river runs through it, and there's a short jetty. sorry i can't give you latitude and longitude. you'll catch 'em if you hurry up. hope you will, and--run 'em in. good-bye." he set the engine at full speed again, and as the aeroplane soared on like a swallow its departure was followed by a lusty british cheer. "three hours late, mister," rodier bawled in smith's ear. chapter vii the white djinn it was half-past six by smith's watch, near eleven by local time, when the aeroplane sailed across the long mangrove swamp that forms the western side of the harbour of karachi. the sun was intensely fierce, and smith, who found its glare affecting his eyes painfully, had donned a pair of huge blue-glass goggles. he was glad that he had done so when, passing over the crowded shipping of the port, he saw the sandy arid tracts around and beyond the town. steamers hooted as the aeroplane flew above them; half-naked coolies lading the vessels with wheat and cotton, the produce of sindh and the punjab, dropped their loads and stared upwards in stupefied amazement. smith could not wait to enjoy his first view of an indian city. his business was to land at the first convenient place and find mr. john jenkinson, whose godown was near the custom house, and obtain from him the petrol bespoken by mr. barracombe. being in complete ignorance where the custom house lay, though he guessed it would be somewhere near the seafront, he was at first at a loss in which direction to make. there was no suitable landing-place in the crowded city itself, and to the immediate south of it there appeared to be nothing but mangrove swamps. ascending to a considerable height, however, he saw, some distance to the east, near a railway line, a stretch of open brownish ground on which little red flags stood up at intervals. he instantly jumped to the conclusion that this was the golf course, though at this time of day there were no players to confirm his judgment. this was an advantage, because it promised that he might land without being beset by curious spectators. accordingly he steered in that direction, hoping that having safely landed his aeroplane he might find some means of reaching the merchant whose name mr. barracombe had cabled to him. it happened that, just as the aeroplane swooped down upon the golf course, an open vehicle like a victoria was driving slowly along a road that crossed it from the railway towards the city. the turbaned driver pulled up his horse and stared open-mouthed at this extraordinary apparition from the sky, and when the aeroplane alighted, and from the car stepped a tall, dirty creature with a monstrously ugly face, the native whipped up his horse and with shrill cries sought to escape the clutches of what he felt in his trembling soul must be a djinn of the most evil kind. smith shouted to him to stop, but in vain; whereupon he picked up his heels and ran to overtake the carriage. the horse was a sorry specimen, and smith, being a very passable sprinter, soon came up with it, jumped in, and called to the driver to take him to mr. jenkinson's godown. the man yelled with fear, and in sheer panic flogged his horse until it went at a gallop, the vehicle swaying in a manner that any one but a sailor would have found unpleasant. both horse and driver seemed to be equally affected with terror, but since the carriage was going towards the city smith was perfectly well satisfied, and did not turn a hair even when it narrowly escaped a collision with a bullock-wagon. on they went, past some buildings on the right which appeared to be barracks, until they reached a street in which there were so many people that smith thought it time to pull up before mischief was done. leaning forward, he gripped the driver's dhoti and drew him slowly backward. the man yelled again; the passers-by stood in wonderment; but with his backward movement the driver tightened his grip on the reins, and within a few yards the panting horse came to a standstill. "where is mr. jenkinson's godown?" said smith, releasing the driver. but the man's terror was too much for him. throwing the reins on the horse's back, he sprang from his seat and fled, a vision of bare brown legs twinkling amid white cotton drapery. by this time a crowd of chattering natives had gathered round, who, not having seen the aeroplane, were more amazed at the driver's evident terror than at the passenger. he was dirty, it is true, and not clad like the sahibs whom they were accustomed to meet, but when he had removed his goggles they saw that he was certainly a sahib. smith was about to ask some one to direct him to mr. jenkinson's when a native policeman pushed his way through the crowd, and in a shrill, high-pitched voice and wonderful english, announced that he had come to take the number of the carriage; it was clearly a case of furious driving to the danger of the public. "shut up!" said smith impatiently. "find me a driver to take me to jenkinson sahib." "certainly, your honor," said the man, becoming deferential at once. one of the bystanders, seeing the chance of earning a few pice, volunteered to drive. "jenkinson sahib? all right, sahib; down by custom house. you bet!" the carriage rolled off, followed by a crowd of runners, eager out of pure inquisitiveness to see the matter through. they passed government house, turned into dusty macleod road, and in five or six minutes reached the custom house, where, turning to the left for a short distance along the napier mole, the driver pulled up at a wooden godown, and said-- "here we are again, sahib. jenkinson sahib, all right." smith ordered the man to wait for him, and went into the godown. here he met with a disappointment. in answer to his inquiry the native clerk, looking at him curiously, said that mr. jenkinson was not there, was not even in karachi. at this smith looked blank. "your name, sir, is lieutenant smith?" said the clerk politely, but with an air of doubt. "it is." "then i tell you what, sir. cable came yesterday for mr. jenkinson. i wired it, instanter, as per instructions, to esteemed employer at mahableshwar, where he recuperates exhausted energies. reply just come. here you are: 'refer lieutenant smith mr. macdonald. regret absence.' mr. macdonald, sir, little way off. i have honour to escort you: do proper thing." he conducted smith some distance down the mole, the carriage following. luckily mr. macdonald had not returned to his bungalow for tiffin, but was napping in a little room behind his office, darkened by close trellises, which are found necessary for keeping out the clouds of sand blown up from the shore. "eh, what?" said mr. macdonald, when his clerk awakened him. "a visitor this time of day? well, show him in." he let a little light into the room, and stared when smith was introduced. smith was dripping with perspiration, and not having been able to wash since leaving london, he felt that his appearance must give a fellow-countryman something of a shock. "what do ye want, man?" asked mr. macdonald, somewhat testily. "mr. jenkinson referred me to you, sir--" "i have no vacancies, none whatever, and--" "my name is lieutenant smith, of his majesty's navy, and i have just arrived from england." "i beg your pardon, mr. smith; i took ye for--well, i don't know what. take a wee drappie? you came by the _peninsular_, no doubt. i hear she came in this morning." "no. i came by aeroplane." the scotsman stared. "what's that ye were saying?" "by aeroplane. the fact is, mr. macdonald, i'm in a hurry. i've got to get off within an hour or so; and i want some petrol for my engine. mr. jenkinson was to have arranged it for me, but being absent he refers me to you, and i shall be immensely obliged if you can manage it for me, and excuse my not entering into particulars, for which i really haven't time." "is that a fact? petrol, is it? come away with me; only, upon my word, sir, i will take it very kind if you will give me a few particklers of this astonishing business as we go." he put on a sun helmet, and led the way from the room. jumping into the victoria, he ordered the temporary coachman to drive to harris road, a quarter of a mile beyond the custom house. in the two minutes occupied by the drive, smith told the scotsman merely that he had come from constantinople and was proceeding immediately to penang on important business. "it took ye a week, i suppose?" "no, i left there rather less than twenty-four hours ago." "man, you astonish me; fair take my breath away. but here we are." he alighted at a store kept by a parsi. it was a matter of a few moments to purchase the petrol and machine oil, smith paying for it with english gold. the tins were rolled out; mr. macdonald hailed a closed cab, into which they were put, and then they set off to return to the golf links, mr. macdonald accompanying smith, curious to see the machine which had performed such an astonishing journey. "i've read in the papers about these aeroplanes, but never seen one yet. is it your opinion, now, that we'll have a war in the air one of these days?" "i shouldn't wonder. we shall have cruisers and battleships, air torpedoes and destroyers, air mines and air submarines." "are you pulling my leg, now?" asked mr. macdonald, but he received no reply, for smith had noticed an european provision shop, and remembering that his biscuits and chocolate were running low, he called to the driver to stop, and made some purchases. he took the opportunity to lay in a dozen bottles of soda-water, and added a few packets of rodier's favourite cigarettes, for smoking during the halts, for he would never allow a match to be struck near the engine. mr. macdonald plied him with questions during the remainder of the drive, and smith was ready enough with his answers except on his personal concerns. when they arrived at the links they found the aeroplane surrounded by a vast crowd. the majority were natives, but there was a sprinkling of englishmen in the inner circle, and some soldiers from the barracks were doing police duty in keeping the onlookers at a distance from the aeroplane. two british officers and some civilians were talking to rodier, who was cleaning the engine with the assistance of a young fellow with the cut of a ship's engineer. the arrival of the cabs caused a stir among the spectators. smith alighted, asked mr. macdonald to see that the petrol and provisions were carried quickly to the aeroplane, and advanced to ask rodier how he had been getting on. "like a house on fire, mister," replied the man. "mr. jones here is just off the _peninsular_, and has helped a lot." "i say," said one of the officers, "is your man stuffing us up? he says you have come from london in twenty-four hours." "quite true, hawley," said smith, with a smile. "remember i googlied you for a duck at lord's last year?" the officer stared. "by george, it's charley smith! i didn't know you; you're like a sweep. yes, by george! and i stumped you and got it back on you. how are you? rogers, this is a gentleman of the king's navee--charley smith, elphinstone rogers." "how d'e do? rummy machine, what!" said captain rogers. "yes, by george!" said hawley. "what's your little game?" "i've got seven days' leave, and am off big game hunting. can't wait for liners in these times." "you don't say so!" "tigers, eh?" said rogers. "wish i was you! but is it safe? looks uncommon flimsy, what!" "i hope for the best, but i haven't got a minute to spare. sorry i can't have a go at your pads again, hawley. finished, roddy?" "all complete, mister." "all the stuff onboard?" "yes." "well, mr.--jones, is it? much obliged to you. roddy, pay those fellows who've carried the stuff, and the drivers." he handed him some silver. "hoots, man," said mr. macdonald; "that'll never do. they'll swank for a week if you give them all that. leave it to me." "all right. you know best. many thanks for your help. hawley, d'you mind getting your men to clear the course? i don't want to break any bones. and perhaps you'll send a cable home for me. address thesiger smith, cosham. say 'all well.'" "i'll do it, with pleasure." "thanks. good-bye. sorry i've got to rush off." he shook hands all round, and jumped on board. rodier had already taken his place at the engine. it took a minute or two for the soldiers to force the crowd back, an interval which smith utilized to trace on the map, for rodier's guidance, the course he had decided to follow. then, the clatter of the starting engine silencing the clamour of the crowd, the aeroplane ran forward and soared into the air. its ascent was hailed with a babel of shouts and cheers. smith waved his hand to his friends below; then, seeing that rodier had the map before him, he spread himself in his seat for a comfortable nap. chapter viii a ship on fire rodier had his full share of the gallic dash which had won first honours in airmanship for france, but it was combined with the coolness and circumspection bred of scientific training, so that smith was able to take repose in serene confidence that, barring accidents, the aeroplane would fly as safely under rodier's charge as under his own. karachi was soon a mere speck amid the sand. in less than half-an-hour the aeroplane was crossing the swampy delta of the indus. soon afterwards it flew over the run of cutch into gujarat, leaving the hills of kathiawar on the right. sweeping over the head of the gulf of cambay, it crossed the railway line from bombay to baroda, and then the broad river nerbudda. the city gleaming white in the sunlight, far to the left, must be baroda itself. the course traced by smith in the few minutes before leaving karachi, avoided the high western ghauts that fringe the indian coast to far south of bombay. rodier therefore steered somewhat to the east, coming in the course of twenty minutes to the river tapti. seeing a line of mountains straight ahead, he swung round still more to the east, following the valley of the river until he had completely turned the mountains, the northernmost spurs of the ghauts. now he turned south-east once more, crossed the chandaur chain, and presently came in sight of the godaveri river, which traverses the whole breadth of hyderabad. near indor he left the river on his left. by this time it was becoming dark. smith still slept, and rodier, who was not able to steer by the stars, was considering whether he had not better waken his employer when he spied the characteristic glare from a locomotive furnace far ahead. in half-a-minute he had caught up the train, and slowed down to make sure of the direction in which the railway ran. he found that it was almost exactly south-south-east, and concluded from a glance at the map that he was above the connection of the hyderabad railway running from warangal to the coast of the bay of bengal. reassured, he resolved to let smith have his sleep out, followed the line until it swept eastward at secunderabad, and then, steering a little to the left, put the engine once more to full speed. in less than an hour afterwards he saw a vast expanse of water glistening in the light of the rising moon, and knew that he had reached the sea. being by this time thoroughly stiff and tired, and knowing, moreover, that smith would navigate the aeroplane over the sea with much more certainty than himself, he shouted to awaken him. this proving ineffectual, he leant over and nudged his shoulder. smith was awake in an instant. "where are we?" he cried; but no answer was necessary; he saw the sea below him, and stretching far to the east, north, and south. he exchanged places with rodier, who, too tired even to eat, fell asleep at once. "good thing he woke me," thought smith. it was one thing to fly over land, with guiding marks in the shape of rivers, mountains, and other physical features that could be recognized more or less easily from the map; and quite another to cross the pathless ocean. but with a compass and a clear sky the course would present no difficulty to a seaman, and smith settled down to a flight that would be without obstruction for at least seven hundred miles. he knew that in the bay of bengal the prevailing wind at that season is south-westerly. whether there was any wind or not it was impossible to ascertain while the aeroplane was maintaining its enormous speed; certainly there was none to cause unsteadiness. if wind there was, it blew in his, favour, and all that he would have to do would be to allow in steering for a slight northerly drift. he would certainly sight the nicobar group, and possibly the andaman islands if he did not make sufficient allowance for the wind; but he was determined not to alight if he could help it until he arrived at penang; he had lost time enough already. it was the first time he had flown across so wide an expanse of sea, and he felt a touch of anxiety lest the engine should break down. if any accident should happen he had made up his mind that the only thing to be done was to don the lifebuoys, cut the engine loose, and trust to the buoys to keep them and the planes afloat until their plight was observed from some passing vessel. in the darkness this would, of course, prove a vain hope; even in daylight the chance that a vessel would be in sight was remote. but the die was cast: the engine was as yet working perfectly; and in three or four hours, all being well, he would come in sight of land. there being no obstruction to fear, he kept at a height of only a hundred feet above sea level. the sea was calm, gleaming like a sheet of silver in the moonlight, so that the aeroplane seemed to fly over a continuous glistening track. steadily it flew on; smith had nothing to do but to sit still, feed the engine with petrol, and keep his eyes alternately on the compass and the stars. at length, about six o'clock by his watch--past eleven in the longitude to which he had arrived--he caught sight ahead of a dark outline on the water, no doubt a group of islands, though whether the andamans or the nicobars he did not feel sure. knowing that they were all hilly in formation, he slackened speed, intending to run down their coastline rather than cross them. it would not be difficult to find one of the many channels between them through which he could continue his flight, past the northern end of sumatra to penang. by taking a southerly course, moreover, he would, be able to assure himself of his direction. after a short run parallel with the coastline he came to a wide channel which he believed to be, and subsequently ascertained to be, the ten degree channel between little andaman and car nicobar. from this, if he was right, there would be an uninterrupted course south-east to penang. but within half-an-hour of entering the channel, still flying low, he suddenly ran into a dense cloud of exceedingly pungent smoke, which completely hid the sea beneath him. it made him cough, and woke rodier with a start. "what's this, mister?" he shouted, rubbing his eyes. "forest on fire," shouted smith in reply, though he was surprised to meet with the smoke so far from land as he supposed himself to be. he hastily planed upwards, in case, by some error of navigation, he had come upon land and might endanger the aeroplane among hills or tree-tops, and also to avoid the risk of explosion from a stray spark. still more surprised was he when, after only a few seconds, the aeroplane passed completely through the smoke, and he saw the sea again. at that instant, just as they reached the windward side of the smoke-cloud, which was evidently blown by an easterly wind, rodier gave a cry. "mon dieu! a ship on fire!" smith instantly checked the engine, and, swinging round in a narrow circle, saw a dark shape below him from which smoke was pouring up. there was no flame, but as the aeroplane dropped gently downwards smith saw that rodier's explanation must be correct, the ship being a sailing vessel. a fire at sea is the sailor's worst terror. urgent as was his own errand, smith could not pass without at least inquiry, so he sank still lower, steering as close alongside the vessel on the windward side as the planes would allow. he perceived now that she was dismasted and had a bad list. lifting his megaphone, he shouted-- "ahoy there! who are you?" no answer reached him, though he saw that the crew were crowding on deck, gazing up at him, and one man, no doubt the captain, was making a trumpet of his hands. "i can't hear owing to the noise of my engine," shouted smith. "haven't you got a megaphone?" he was acutely conscious at that moment of two disadvantages which the airman had not yet been able to surmount. he had not yet invented a noiseless engine, nor could he keep the aeroplane motionless in the air. if smith could have transformed his vessel for a few minutes into a zeppelin airship he would gladly have done it. now a megaphone had been brought to the captain, and his words came, though faintly, to the ears of the airmen. "barque _elizabeth_, from calcutta to dundee with jute. dismasted in a cyclone ten days ago west of the andamans; been adrift ever since. fire broke out in cargo in the fore hold; had as much as we could do to keep it under; no time to rig a jury mast. afraid of flames bursting through any minute." he asked no questions and showed no surprise about the aeroplane. it was evident that he could give no thought to anything but the desperate plight of his vessel. smith was in great perplexity. he could do nothing for the ship; perhaps his best course would be to make all speed for the nearest port and send a steamer to her assistance. an idea struck him. "can't you get off in your boats?" he called. "all carried away but one. she won't hold half of us. besides, can't desert the ship." "many passengers?" "only my daughter." "his daughter, roddy. i wish we could do something, but i don't know what." "ah! go down and lift her off, mister." smith reflected. a girl would probably weigh little more than the petrol they had consumed. the suggestion was feasible, and if the captain's daughter had pluck enough to risk the journey, no doubt her father would be glad to know that she at least was safe. "we can but make 'em the offer," he said to rodier; then shouted through the megaphone: "we're coming down. get your men to clear the deck aft, and show lights and stand by to lend a hand." all this time the aeroplane was moving slowly in circles over the vessel, being still careful to keep on the windward side for fear of sparks. when smith's instructions had been carried out, he selected a landing place just abaft the mizzen and, warping his planes alternately, brought the aeroplane gently to the deck. fortunately the bulwarks were sufficiently low not to catch the planes or the stays supporting them. smith and rodier stepped on deck, and were instantly surrounded by a group of the officers and crew. "get for'ard," shouted the captain to the men. "d'you want to see a blaze?" he was left with the first mate. "i'm in a pretty fix, sir," he said, after a rapid glance at smith. "we drifted south and southeast after the storm, then lay becalmed for a day or two; yesterday an east wind sprang up and carried us northward." "what are your bearings?" asked smith. "i'm in the navy." "you don't say so, sir! yesterday's observations gave us latitude nine degrees forty-seven minutes south and longitude ninety-four degrees thirty-two minutes east." "well, look here, the best thing i can do is to run for a port and send you help." "i'd take it very kind if you would, sir. i was thinking of sending my daughter off in the boat to-morrow with a few men; but we've managed to keep the fire under so far, and if there's a chance of getting help within a day, say, perhaps we can keep all together. it's terribly risky in these seas in an open boat." "well, i'll set a course for penang--" "port blair's nearer, sir, in south andaman." "but i'm more likely to find a fast steamer at penang. and as to your daughter, captain, she'd better come along with us." "in that what-you-may-call-it, sir?" "yes, certainly. we can easily carry her, and make a comfortable seat for her behind ours if you give us a cushion. we've come from london, so she needn't be afraid." "from london! near seven thousand miles! jigger me if ever i heard the like of it! what do you think of that, mr. mcwhirter?" "rather a long un," replied the mate. "well, hang me, if you've come across the bay of bengal, you're sartin sure to be able to make penang. she shall go with you, and that'll be one load off my mind. go and fetch her, mr. mcwhirter. she's rather a superior gal, sir, though i say it myself. she's had a rattling good eddication; talks french like a native, and as for music and singing, i've never heard any gal as could touch her, that's a fact. here she is." smith was not sorry that the outflow of paternal pride was checked. he wanted to get on. a girl of about twenty came forward with the mate. she was very self-possessed, and met smith's look frankly. "my daughter, mr. ----. i don't know your name, sir," said the captain. "my name's smith." he doffed his cap. "now, margy, my girl, mr. smith, who's in the navy, is going to be so kind as to take you in his what-you-may-call-it to penang, and send a steamer to take us off or tow us in, as the case may be." the girl looked startled, glancing from smith to the aeroplane, and then at her father. "i think i'd rather stay with you, father," she said quietly. "and i'd rather you didn't," he said bluntly. "you don't know the risk as i do, my gal," he added kindly. "the blessed ship may blaze at any moment." "i know, father; but we've been in danger for several days, and i've got used to it." "ay, that's true, and you've been an uncommon plucky girl, i _will_ say. she ain't like them females that faint and go into high strikes and fidget your life out," he said to smith, who observed the girl's face flush. "now, my dear, you'll go with mr. smith, and please your old father. there ain't a morsel of danger; he's come safe all the way from london, and i never see a better bit of manoeuvring, i _will_ say, than when he brought the what-you-may-call-it down on the deck as light as a feather. it'll be a big sight safer than this poor old hulk, and i'll be thankful to know as you're safe in penang. you can berth with my old friend sam upton and his missis, and please god i'll come for you in a day or two." "i assure you, miss--miss margaret," said smith, "that there's really very little risk. we've come six thousand odd miles safely, and it's not far to penang, you know. you won't be the first lady to fly in an aeroplane." "ma foi, non!" cried rodier, unable to keep silence any longer. "i myself, mademoiselle, have kept company in an aeroplane with a lady. ah, bah! vous parlez français; eh bien! cette femme-là a été ravie, enchantée; elle m'a assuré que ce moment-là fut le plus heureux de sa vie." "shut up, roddy," whispered smith, smiling, however, as he caught a twinkle of amusement in the girl's eyes. "i will go if you wish," she said to the captain, without replying to rodier. "that's right. mr. mcwhirter, will you please get a couple of cushions and put them in the thingummy where mr. smith shows you." the seat was quickly prepared. meanwhile smith consulted with rodier on the somewhat delicate problem how to make a start from the deck, which obviously did not afford more than a few feet of running-off space. rodier hit on a solution, and by the time the passenger's seat was ready the necessary arrangements had been made. "now, my gal," said the captain, "step aboard. you sing like a bird; it's only right you should fly like one." it was obvious that the worthy seaman was making clumsy efforts to be cheerful. "i'll see you in two days, or three at most; we've got a raft ready, you know, in case the fire beats us. but, bless you, i shouldn't be surprised if we have a fire-engine coming through the sky next; there's no knowing what these clever young sparks won't be inventing. god bless you!" the girl threw her arms round her father's neck. smith turned away; there were tears in the old man's eyes. the captain conducted her to her place. then he took smith aside. "you'll look after my gal, sir?" he said in an undertone. "she's all i've got. suppose you _do_ come down; what then?" "i shall jettison the engine and keep afloat by the planes. we've a couple of life buoys, too. but i don't think we shall come down, so make yourself easy, and we'll save your vessel." "there's one man that never forgets a good turn, and that's john bunce. where shall i find you in penang, sir, if i get there safe?" "oh! i shan't be there. i'm going straight on to the solomon islands." "well, sir, if you're ever rotherhithe way, you'll find me at prince's road; i'm retiring after this voyage. margy'll be proud to give you a cup of tea, and i _will_ say i'd like you to hear her sing." "all right, i won't forget. all ready, roddy?" "ready and waiting, mister." smith went to his place. "are you quite comfortable, miss bunce?" he said, noticing that the girl was pale and nervous. "i'm sorry i can't give you my seat, but my man and i must sit together. you'll forgive us for turning our backs on you." the girl smiled faintly without speaking. several of the crew had ranged themselves on each side of the aeroplane, to hold it steady until the propellers had worked up a good speed. smith started the engine; the deafening whirr began: then at the word "go!" the sailors released their holds and the aeroplane lurched forward just clear of the bulwarks. margaret bunce clutched the rail nervously. one or two of the men had been somewhat slow in letting go, causing the aeroplane to cant over in a manner that was alarming to the onlookers. but long practice with the aeroplane in all kinds of gusty weather had developed in smith an instinct for the right means of meeting an emergency of this nature. like a bicyclist, he did the right thing without thinking. the vessel righted itself at a touch on the warping lever, and in two or three seconds she was sailing rapidly away from the ship. chapter ix a passenger for penang from the information given him by captain bunce, smith hoped to pick up the lights of penang without much difficulty. while on the ship's deck he had noticed that the easterly breeze was very light, so that even with the slight additional weight he carried, his speed would not be greatly diminished. with good luck three or four hours would see him safe in port. rodier pulled out his watch soon after they started, and comparing it with the schedule of the journey, shouted in smith's ear-- "we are four hours late, mister." "i know we are," cried smith. "confound you, roddy, you're always telling me i'm late. if you say anything like that again i'll throw you out." rodier grinned. "mademoiselle wouldn't like that," he shouted. "tout va bien, mademoiselle?" he said, turning to the lady. "vous n'avez pas peur?" "it is terribly fast," said the girl breathlessly, and rodier came to the conclusion that captain bunce's opinion of his daughter's linguistic ability was exaggerated. the moon had set, and the flight was continued in almost total darkness. at length, shortly before four o'clock in the morning, smith caught sight of lights ahead. he had touched at penang some years before, when his first ship was on her way out to the australian station, and he knew that the most suitable place for alighting was a large open space, clear of vegetation and buildings, about a mile from the port. in a few minutes the aeroplane was flying over the sleeping town. he slackened speed, and circled around for some time, seeking the spot with the aid of his searchlight. he discovered it with more ease than he had dared to hope, and bidding rodier look out for obstacles, descended to the ground. "here we are, miss bunce," he said cheerfully, as he stepped out. "i hope you feel none the worse for your ride." "it is wonderful," said the girl. "i shall never forget it." "the question is, what are we to do now? your father mentioned a friend of his, but as i have little time to spare i think you had better come with me to my friend mr. daventry. he is in the administration here, and i am sure mrs. daventry will be glad to do anything she can for you. you see, i can find my way there in the dark, i think, whereas we should have to wait until daylight to find your father's friend, and that would be a nuisance in every way." "i will do whatever you think best." leaving rodier with the aeroplane, the other two set off towards the town. "you will try to send help to father?" said the girl. "as soon as it's light. this is sunday morning, by the way. _you_'re all right, but i'm afraid i look far from sundayish. still, no one can see me, and i shall be off before the people go to church." "so soon as that? aren't you very tired?" "not so tired as i've been in the manoeuvres. we get a nap in turn, you know." "how _can_ you sleep when you're in such terrible danger?" "well, you see i'm used to it. we don't think of the danger. perhaps it's because i've never had a bad accident. the want of a decent meal is the worst of it. we haven't had one since thursday night, but i daresay we can keep going on light fare for another three or four days." "you know i've often wanted to go up in an aeroplane, though i suspect i should have backed out if i had really had the chance. i'm very glad father insisted on my coming, but i wish it had been daylight; i could only hold on and try not to be afraid." "i'm sorry we can't take you with us--no, i don't quite mean that, miss bunce; of course you couldn't come careering about; what i mean is that i shall be very glad to take you a daylight trip one of these days if you care to come--when we get back home, of course. captain bunce was kind enough to give me an invitation; he said you would give me a cup of tea--" "and sing to you! i know exactly what he said; but you mustn't pay too much attention to father. he's a dear old man, but quite absurd over my little accomplishments." "but i may have a cup of tea?" "with or without sugar--if you really mean it." "of course i mean it. one of these days you will find my aeroplane at your door--" "good gracious! it will be in pieces, then, for our street isn't wide enough to give it room." "well, you'll find _me_ at the door then; and after i have had my cup of tea, with three lumps of sugar, and you have sung a little song--just to please your father, of course--we will walk to where my man is waiting with the aeroplane, two or three streets off, and we'll take a jaunt to greenwich park, or richmond, or wherever you like." "that will be very nice," said miss bunce, and smith wished it were not too dark to see her face, for the tone expressed utter disbelief. he wanted to assure her that he meant what he said, but, reflecting that he had better not seem to suggest that she doubted it, he said-- "that's settled, then. i suppose it will be three or four months before you get home, and i shan't have another leave for i don't know how long, so we won't fix a date. now mr. daventry's bungalow is in this direction; i hope i shall be able to find it." they walked about for some minutes before smith was able to satisfy himself that he had discovered the bungalow. they passed through the compound, looked with a smile at the native servant sleeping on a mat at the door, and laughed to see him jump when awakened by smith's vigorous rapping. at a word from smith the man went into the dwelling, but a moment afterwards a window above the entrance was thrown open, and a loud voice demanded what was the matter. "that you, daventry?" smith called. "yes. who are you? what's the matter?" "it's charley smith. sorry to disturb you at this unearthly hour, old chap." "what in the name of--! all right. i'll come down." they saw a light struck; in a minute they saw framed in the doorway a tall man in pyjamas, holding a candle. "come in, smith," he cried. "why, what the--! here, i say, i won't be a minute." setting down the candle on the doorstep, he hurriedly fled. smith glanced at the girl. she was quite unembarrassed, and when she caught his eye she frankly smiled. "she's the right sort," he said to himself. presently mr. daventry returned in trousers and a smoking jacket. "excuse my leaving you. i went to--to waken mary," he said. "she'll be down in a minute; come in. didn't know you were married, old boy," he whispered, taking smith by the arm. "hush!" said smith anxiously, hoping that margaret bunce had not caught the words. mr. daventry led them into his dining-room, turned on the lights, and looked inquiringly at his visitors. the girl was already unpinning her low cloth hat. "why, what on earth--!" exclaimed mr. daventry; "what have you been doing to yourself, smith?" "i _am_ a bit of a sweep, no doubt, but you can give me a bath. the fact is--well, it's plaguey difficult to tell it shortly--but the fact is i picked up this lady--no, hang it all! miss bunce, please help me out." "mr. smith picked me up, as he says, from a burning ship in mid-ocean, and was kind enough to bring me here in his aeroplane." "sounds simple, don't it?" said smith, as mr. daventry looked from one to the other in amazement. "but--i don't understand--mid-ocean--an aeroplane? mary," he added to a lady in a dressing-gown who had just entered, "come and listen to this. you know charley smith? miss--miss--" "margaret bunce," said the girl, rising. "my wife. now, let us all sit down and see if we can make this out. if i understand aright miss bunce was in a burning ship in mid-ocean--" "oh, poor thing!" said mrs. daventry sympathetically, going to margaret and taking her hand. "and--correct me if i'm wrong--smith descended out of the clouds, caught up miss bunce, and flew with her to the house of his nearest friend. is your aeroplane outside, old man?" "it's a mile away, in charge of my chauffeur. i think i had better tell the whole story from the beginning." "i think so, too; it's rather cloudy at present. have a cigar--if the ladies don't mind." "well, two days ago i learnt that my father was shipwrecked along with the company of his survey vessel on one of the solomons, practically unarmed, the report says. as the news was taken to brisbane by some of the crew in an open boat, they must have been at the mercy of the savages for a week or more, and probably hard pushed. of course a gunboat was to be sent to relieve them, but as every hour was important i decided to try to get to them in my aeroplane and take them some ammunition. last night, coming somewhere south of the andamans, we saw a ship on fire; she was adrift, lost her masts and all boats but one. the captain asked me to send help as soon as i got here, and miss bunce was good enough to accept our escort, and here we are." "good heavens!" exclaimed mr. daventry. "but--i don't understand yet. how did you come to be by the andamans? where did you come from?" "left london early friday morning: came by constantinople and karachi." "upon my word, smith, if i didn't know you i should be inclined to ask if you are sober. you have come all the way from london since friday morning?" "exactly. but i know you'll excuse me: i haven't time to tell you any more. we are already four hours late, and every hour means nearly two hundred miles. there are two things i want to do. first to arrange with the port officer to send help to captain bunce; then to get the petrol and lubricating oil ordered for me here. van kloof's the man. you know him, of course." "yes, but it's sunday." "the better the day, the better the deed. i must have the petrol; i must start in two hours or less. and i should like a good bath and a breakfast first." "you shall have both, but surely you can wait till daylight." "i'm afraid i can't. it is very awkward, i admit, and i fear i shall give you and several others a lot of trouble; but needs must when the devil drives, as they say, and the devil in this case is father time. you see, i've not only got to take some rifles and ammunition to the shipwrecked party, but i must rejoin my ship by friday morning, or there'll be ructions. i've got a name for overstepping the limit, and my captain warned me that i'd better rejoin promptly this time." "we mustn't hinder him, jack," said mrs. daventry. "but, hang it all, mary, do you understand what it means? he'll kill himself, rushing round the world like this." "not at all; i'm pretty tough," said smith. "now, old fellow, what is the best you can do for me?" "go and get your things on, jack," said mrs. daventry practically. "you can take mr. smith down to the harbour and get what he wants. i'll see about the bath and the breakfast, and i am sure miss bunce will help; i won't disturb the servants. really, it is quite exciting." "thank you, mrs. daventry. it is very good of you. but i'm sure miss bunce ought to go to sleep." "i am not a bit sleepy," said the girl, "and i shall certainly help mrs. daventry." "come along then, my dear," said the hostess. "we will go and see to things at once." in five minutes mr. daventry was down. he and smith left the house and made their way rapidly to the harbour. the port officer complained at having his beauty sleep disturbed, and when he learnt that his assistance was wanted for a burning ship near the andamans he declared that he wished wireless had never been invented. "people know too much nowadays," he grumbled. "they'll know what we think before we think it next." "don't undeceive him," whispered smith to daventry, anxious to escape the necessity of lengthy explanations. the port officer agreed to send a steamer in search of the _elizabeth_ as soon as it was light. then, without losing a minute, daventry led smith to the house of mr. van kloof, of whom the petrol had been ordered. "he's a bit of a slow-coach," said daventry, "and will want to know all about it, so i advise you to tell him everything; or better still, leave it to me." "very well. anything to save time." mr. van kloof was hard to awaken. when he was at last aroused by his servants, he put his head out of his bedroom window, and demanded gruffly what was the matter. "come down, van kloof, and i'll explain. it's a matter of life or death," said daventry. "vat is it? an earthquake?" "worse than that. slip into your breeches, man." the merchant presently appeared at his door in shirt and breeches, and carrying a revolver. "you got a cable from london ordering eighty gallons of petrol to be held ready for lieutenant smith?" said daventry. "so. dat is quite true." "well, here is lieutenant smith, and he wants the petrol at once." mr. daventry explained where the petrol was to be sent. "no, it cannot be done, mr. daventry. it is sunday morning. my store is closed, and i do not understand the hurry." "lieutenant smith is off to the solomon islands to save his father from being eaten by cannibals. there isn't a moment to lose." "dat is strange. for vy should i take oil for a motor-boat up country? you are playing games vid me?" "of course not. he's not going by motor-boat, but by aeroplane." "oho! tell dat to the marines." "hang it, van kloof, listen without interrupting. mr. smith has come by aeroplane from london, and is going on at once. give me the key of your store, and we'll go and get the stuff ourselves." "veil, of all the--pardon me, gentlemen, but you vill allow me to be shocked to hear such news at five o'clock on a sunday morning. i vill come vid you. i must vake up some coolies to carry the cans. but it shall be done; i vill myself see to it. i must look vell at dis aeroplane." "you're sure we can rely on you?" "i vill bring all before an hour, you may trust me for dat." "then we'll hurry back, smith, and see about your breakfast. what about your man, by the way?" "he's cleaning the engine by searchlight, and eating sardines and biscuits, or something of the sort." "couldn't we fetch him?" "i'm afraid there isn't time, and besides, he can hardly leave the aeroplane unattended. it's hard lines, but i'll make it up to him when we get back." they returned to the bungalow. a steaming bath was ready. when smith had bathed, he found hot coffee and eggs awaiting him. he ate and drank ravenously, and in a quarter of an hour declared that he must get back to the aeroplane. "nonsense," said daventry. "the petrol won't be there for half-an-hour yet. you'll just lie down and rest, and have a comfortable smoke. i'll go up the hill and take some food to your man." "you're a good fellow," said smith, dropping into a capacious arm-chair. mrs. daventry arranged a cushion behind his head, miss bunce placed a stool for him to stretch his legs on, and in half-a-minute he was fast asleep. "don't wake him for an hour," said mr. daventry, as he left the house; "i'll see that all is ready for him." the sun was rising when mrs. daventry, now dressed for outdoors, wakened the sleeper by lifting his hand. he sprang up with a start. "now, don't be agitated," said mrs. daventry. "it's just six o'clock. jack has gone to see that all is ready for you, and miss bunce and i are coming to see you start. really, i quite envy her, though i'm sure i should never have the courage to go up in the air." "you'll think nothing of it some day. you've been very kind, and i'm immensely obliged to you. by the way, will you ask daventry, in case i forget it, to send a cable to my sister to say that i'm all right?" "i won't forget. now shall we go?" they found that a small crowd had collected round the aeroplane. mr. daventry and mr. van kloof were there, with several other englishmen, and a number of chinese coolies and nondescript natives stood at a little distance, gazing in wondering silence. rodier had his watch in his hand, and looked reproachfully at his employer. smith pressed through the crowd, shaking hands with the englishmen one after another, but declaring that he had no time for talking. he shook hands with the daventrys and miss bunce last of all, thanking them very heartily for their assistance; then, calling for a clear space, he followed rodier to his seat. almost before the onlookers could realize what was happening, the aeroplane was in action, and while they were still discussing the extraordinary nature of this means of locomotion, it had soared into the air, flown humming away from them, and become a mere speck in the eastern sky. they were scarcely clear of the ground before rodier, raising his voice to a bellow, shouted-- "mister!" "yes. what?" replied smith, fearing that something was wrong. "mister! we are four hours ten minutes late!" interlude "i'm afraid it's all up, doctor." day had just broken. lieutenant underhill, standing rifle in hand at his post in a corner of the barricade, addressed dr. thesiger smith, who had come to relieve him. "you think we can't hope for relief?" replied the doctor. "yes. the boat must have foundered, or got lost, or perhaps has fallen into the hands of the savages. we've come to our last tin of biscuits; we've hardly ten rounds of cartridges among us." "what can we do then?" "either fight till we drop, or give in; there's nothing else. the end will be the same either way, but the first would be the quicker." the doctor stroked his beard with his thin hand. his son joined them; not the ruddy, clean-shaven youth that had landed from the wreck twelve days before, but a gaunt man whose hollow cheeks were dark with a stubby beard. "underhill gives up hope at last," said his father. "then i'm ashamed of him," said tom cheerfully. "never say die. go and have a sleep, old man; it's enough to give any one the blues, keeping watch in the dark. you'll feel better after a nap. had any trouble?" "no, they haven't made a sound. i almost wish they had. anything would be better than this eternal keeping watch for an enemy that's afraid to come on." "well, not being a fighting man, i prefer for my part to keep a whole skin as long as i can. go and sleep, and the pater and i will talk things over." underhill, who was tired out, withdrew to the centre of the camp, and throwing himself on a tarpaulin, was soon plunged in an uneasy slumber. it was twelve days since the wreck, ten since the boat had put off to seek assistance. when the storm had subsided, the castaways, drenched to the skin, had taken stock of their situation. it was a wild and desolate spot, far from the track of ships; months might pass before a vessel came in sight. they had only a small store of food, barely sufficient, even if husbanded with the utmost care, to last a fortnight. from their position at the foot of rugged cliffs it was impossible to tell what sustenance the island afforded, and the evil reputation of the natives did not give promise of peaceful exploration. while not actually head hunters, like the inhabitants of the new georgian group to the south, they were said to be treacherous and vindictive. at the southern end of the island, as underhill knew, there was a wesleyan mission station, placed in a somewhat inaccessible spot, and at tulagi, on florida island to the south, was a government station and the seat of the resident. it might be possible to reach one or the other of these, but even so they would be compelled to wait indefinitely, there being no telegraphic communication between either and a civilized port. reflections like these did not tend to cheer the castaways; but, now that the sun shone once more out of a clear sky, the invincible optimism of the british sailorman displayed itself, and the men began to scramble up the cliffs with almost light-hearted eagerness. at the top they found themselves at the edge of a dense and tangled forest. underhill sent some of the crew to search for a likely camping place, while the remainder hauled up the boat's cargo. a comparatively clear space, about a hundred and fifty yards square, was discovered within a short distance from the cliffs. a stream running through the midst ensured a good supply of water, and here underhill determined to make his camp. great havoc had been wrought in the forest by the storm. many trees had been snapped off or uprooted; the ground was strewn with broken branches; and when the whole party were assembled at the spot, and the arms and provisions had been covered with a tarpaulin, underhill sent all hands to collect broken timber for forming a breastwork. fortunately, a good number of tools had been brought from the vessel, and as the men came in with their loads, rumbold, the ship's carpenter, set to work, with the assistance of two or three, to surround the enclosure with a rough fence. underhill ordered them to avoid the use of hammers and axes, the noise of which, carrying far in these solitudes, might attract the attention of the natives, who, for all he knew, had a village in the neighbourhood. there was no lack of tough creepers which were serviceable for binding the logs together, and a great number of cactus-like plants were cut down to form a defensive lining to the barricade. in the course of three or four hours the whole encampment had been roughly fenced. it would not, in its present condition, prove a very formidable obstacle to a determined attack; but the day had become very hot, and underhill was anxious to avoid overworking the men. the barricade could be strengthened next day. just before nightfall the company ate a spare supper of tinned meat and biscuit, and then, in a little group apart from the rest, underhill, with his officers and the smiths, held a council to decide on a course of action. they determined, after brief discussion, that next day four of the men should take the boat and try to make their way to tulagi. the loss of the second boat had rendered it impossible for the whole party to embark; but no doubt the resident at tulagi would have boats of some sort at his disposal, and in these the castaways could be taken off. when once at tulagi, they would have to wait until the first vessel touched at the island. four men, including venables, volunteered to make the voyage, and were ready to start that night; but every one was exhausted by the adventures and fatigues of the day, and underhill thought it best that they should have a night's rest before they set off. having arranged for watches to be kept as on board ship, he gave the order to turn in, and their clothes and the ground having been well dried by the afternoon sun, they passed a comfortable and undisturbed night. up at daybreak, they first of all occupied themselves with completing the barricade; then, about eleven o'clock, when they were preparing to escort the four men to the boat, which had been anchored at the foot of the cliff, some one cried out that he saw brown men advancing through the woods. underhill instantly ordered the barricade to be manned, and served out arms and ammunition as far as they would go round. there were only a dozen rifles, however, among twenty men; the rest armed themselves with tools and implements of various kinds. soon a large body of brown-skinned, fuzzy-headed natives, armed with spears, clubs, and bows and arrows, came slowly towards the camp. their attitude was apparently friendly, but, remembering their reputation for treachery, underhill did not trust them, and refused to leave the shelter of the barricade in answer to their invitation, expressed by signs, to come forth and palaver with them. it was well he refrained, for when they were within a few yards of the camp they suddenly darted forward with a wild whoop. underhill ordered his men to fire a volley over their heads, hoping to scare them away without bloodshed; but the reports of the rifles did not make the astounding impression it usually produced upon savages, and underhill could not but believe that they were not wholly unacquainted with the use of firearms. they advanced with the more ferocity, and it was not until several had fallen to another volley from behind the barricade that they drew back to the shelter of the woods. it would clearly be unsafe to attempt to reach the boat while the savages were in view. as time went on they appeared to increase in numbers, and every now and then they sent a flight of arrows into the camp. but the garrison kept out of sight behind the barricade nearest to the enemy, and their missiles either stuck in it, or fell harmlessly within the enclosure. so the day passed. the fact that trouble had come so soon impressed underhill with the necessity of sending for assistance without delay. the prospect of a siege, with only a limited supply of ammunition to repel assaults, and a scarcely greater supply of food, was very disturbing. he had little fear of being able to beat off attack so long as ammunition lasted, but when it was all spent, the savages must overpower the white men by sheer weight of numbers. venables now wished to recall his undertaking, and remain in the fighting line; but underhill decided that he must go in command of the other men. accordingly, at nightfall, the four crept through a small gap made in the seaward face of the barricade, and clambered down the cliff. underhill listened anxiously for a time, wondering whether the men had been discovered, or whether they had safely reached the boat; but after an hour of silence he concluded that either the enemy had not been watching in that quarter, or that the boat had slipped away unobserved in the darkness. the night was undisturbed, but with dawn the natives reappeared. the lesson of the previous day had not proved effectual; they came resolutely up to the barricade in a vast yelling horde. underhill ordered his men to reserve their fire until the enemy was within a few yards of the enclosure; then two rapid volleys with repeating rifles and revolvers opened a great gap in the throng, and the survivors, scared by their losses, once more betook themselves to the woods. several times during the day they returned to the attack, pushing it home each time with more determination, and towards evening with a rage and frenzy that could only be due to the stimulation of strong liquor. at this last onset the defenders were almost overwhelmed, repeated volleys seeming only to inflame the fierce warriors. for some minutes there was a hand-to-hand fight as they made desperate endeavours to scale the barricade, and only when a score of their number lay dead and wounded did they relinquish the contest. they took away the wounded, but left the dead where they lay, and in the night the garrison had the gruesome task of carrying the bodies to the edge of the cliff and casting them into the sea. for some time dr. smith was kept busy in attending to the wounded among his own party, and next day one of the stokers, struck by a poisoned arrow, succumbed to blood-poisoning, and his comrades, at dead of night, gave him sailor's burial. some days passed, and no serious attack was made, though the garrison had to be very wary to avoid the arrows which flew at intervals into the enclosure. one evening, soon after sunset, one of the men on watch noticed a small light approaching the barricade, and thought at first it was one of the phosphorescent insects which abounded in the woods, and which the garrison had seen every night like little lamps among the trees. but as it came nearer he perceived that it grew larger and brighter, and moved from side to side with more regularity than was probable with an insect, and at length he saw that it was a smouldering torch held by a native, who was waving it to and fro to cause a flame. evidently he was coming to fire the barricade. a well-directed shot brought him down, but to guard against any more attempts of the same kind underhill had the barricade constantly drenched with water from the stream, a fatiguing job, but one that was welcome to the men, in that it gave them something to do. day after day went by. it was clear that the enemy were trusting to famine to accomplish their end. luckily, it never entered their heads to hasten the inevitable by damming up the stream before it entered the enclosure. if they had done this the garrison could hardly have held out for a day. in that hot climate a constant supply of water was a prime necessity. but water without solid food would not keep them alive, and as the stock of provisions diminished, and no help came, they saw the horrors of starvation looming ever nearer. underhill and tom smith assumed a false cheerfulness before each other and the men, but on the morning of the twelfth day underhill was unable to keep up the pretence any longer. "i didn't want to show underhill," said tom to his father, when the lieutenant had gone; "but we're just about done, i think." "i'm afraid so, tom. poor jenkins had a touch of delirium in the night, and we are all getting so weak that we shall go off our heads." "well, i've got an idea. i thought i'd mention it to you before i spoke to underhill. the blacks haven't been near us for a day or two, but you may be sure they are not far off. i fancy they've got a camp or a village in the woods yonder. they must have food there, and i don't see why we shouldn't try a night attack on them, and run away with all we can lay hands upon. if we must, perish, better perish fighting than starving." "yes, but it would be folly to attempt it unless we saw a chance of success, and i see none. we don't know where their camp is; they may be constantly on the watch, and could take us in the rear and occupy our camp before we could get back. besides, we might have to go a long way, and how could we find our way back again?" "one difficulty at a time, father. as to finding our way back, we could light small fires at intervals, which would serve as guide-posts." "and betray us to the enemy." "but i shouldn't undertake it unless we discover that the course is clear. i don't believe these natives ever keep watch by night; we have seen no sign of them at night since they tried to burn us. the chief difficulty is that we don't know the exact direction of their camp, but why shouldn't i go out to-night and locate it?" "very dangerous, my boy." "there's danger anyway," replied tom, with a shrug. "i should take my pocket compass; two or three of those insects would be enough to light it." "i think we had better remain all together, tom. help may yet come. why should you imperil your life, perhaps in vain?" "well, father, i think i ought to chance it. i'll be careful! if i'm seen i can make a bolt for it; and i fancy i can pick up my heels quicker than the fuzzy-wuzzies, even though they don't wear boots." dr. smith was still loth to acquiesce in the proposal, but tom returned to it more than once during the day, and at last obtained his father's consent. it was scarcely easier to win over underhill; but with him tom cut the matter short. "you command the men," he said, with a smile. "my father commands me--in a sense, for i'd have you know i am over age. i'm going to have a try. get the men ready to make a dash when i come back, for if i succeed the sooner we set about it the better." the knowledge of his intended expedition had a wonderful effect on the spirits of the men. their faces brightened: they threw off the lethargy of despondence which had settled upon them, and discussed with some animation the chances of success. an hour after nightfall, having first looked and listened for any sign of the enemy, tom was let out through a gap in the barricade. he caught two or three light-giving insects in the bushes just beyond, and set off in the direction in which the natives had always retreated when their attacks were beaten off. it was pitch dark in the belt of forest. night insects hummed around; sometimes tom heard the rustle made by some small animal as it darted through the undergrowth; there was no other sound. he was able to determine his general direction by means of the compass, but as the forest grew thicker he began to fear that he would find more difficulty than he had anticipated in retracing his course. the damp warm air was oppressive; now and then he struck his head against a low branch, stumbled over a stump or a fallen bough, or found his feet entangled in the meshes of some creeping plant. he was soon bathed in perspiration; every new sound made him jump; and with every stumble he waited and listened with beating heart, wondering if he had betrayed his presence to the enemy. he thought ruefully that his speed as a sprinter would avail him little on ground like this; he had his revolver, but that would be useless against numbers; discovery would mean death. amid so many obstructions his progress was terribly slow. it was seven o'clock when he started; when it occurred to him to look at his watch he was startled to find that two hours had passed. he could not tell how far he had come, nor guess how far he had yet to go. he hesitated; should he go back? was there any use in struggling further? what chance was there in this dense forest of finding what he sought? might he not even miss the savages' camp altogether, go beyond it, leave it either on his right hand or his left, or perhaps stumble upon it suddenly, and be discovered before he had a chance to flee? but he put these questions from his mind. he had set out to find the camp; no harm had befallen him. there was a strain of doggedness in his nature; he had won his scholarships at school and at cambridge by sheer grit; his tutor had declared that tom smith was certainly not brilliant, but he was much better: he was sound and steady; and the same qualities that had won him successes which more brilliant men envied, came out in these novel circumstances in which he was placed. tom decided to go on. presently he came to a break in the woodland; he saw the stars overhead. he was very wary now, and waited at the edge of the clearing for a long time, peering all round, turning to listen on every side, before he crossed and entered another belt of forest beyond. again he had to struggle through darkness and dense entanglements, then suddenly he started; far ahead he thought he discerned amid the blackness the dull glow of a fire. with infinite caution he picked his way through the thinning undergrowth; the glow increased; and at length he found himself on the edge of a wide open space in the midst of which there was a camp fire, and around it the rude grass huts of the savages. he saw no one, heard no sound; all were asleep. stealthily he crept round the encampment. here and there he saw cooking-pots, and caught the faint odour of roasted flesh. had the savages any store of food, he wondered. if not, his journey was vain. the fire did not give light enough for him to see anything very clearly. at last, however, when he had almost made the circuit of the camp, he saw a man move out from one of the huts towards the fire, on which he cast some logs that lay beside it. a flame shot up. as the man returned to his hut, he put his hand into one of the cooking-pots and drew out the limb of a small animal, from which he tore the flesh with his teeth. tom was satisfied. no doubt each of the pots contained a quantity of food. surely if he brought his comrades to the spot, and they fell upon the camp suddenly, with loud cries and the noise of firearms, they might strike panic into the savages, and at least have time to possess themselves of the contents of the pots. he looked at his watch. it was past ten o'clock. he could return more quickly than he came, and, if he did not lose his way, would regain his camp within half-an-hour after midnight. there would be plenty of time for the whole party to reach the savages' encampment before the dawn rendered it dangerous. moving away slowly until he was out of earshot, he then walked as quickly as he could back through the forest. but he was not a mariner, and even a mariner would have been at fault in tracking his course by compass through dense forest. he judged his general direction accurately, but he swerved a little too far to the right, and suddenly found himself on the brink of the cliff. he dared not go back into the forest, lest he should lose more time in wandering, so he decided to keep as close to the sea as possible, thinking that he must in time arrive at his camp. his path was tortuous; once he had to strike inland to avoid a deep, wooded ravine; but presently he heard the sound of falling water, and, quickening his steps, came almost suddenly upon the barricade. the whole company were awake. they had almost given him up for lost. it was one o'clock. underhill sternly checked a cheer from the sailors, when tom ran up. he told what he had seen. "hadn't we better wait till to-morrow night?" suggested dr. smith. "to-night! to-night!" cried the men eagerly. the knowledge that food was within reach of them was too much for famishing men. who knew if they would have strength or sanity for the task after another sweltering day? underhill could not refuse them; he gave orders for the whole company to march at once. none was left to guard the camp; the little company of sixteen could not be divided. they set off in single file, tom leading the way, not because he had any hope of treading in his former course, but because he alone had traversed the forest, and he alone had a compass. the plan of lighting fires to guide them on the return journey was given up. the forest was so dense that such fires would have been of little use; further, they might cause an immense conflagration which, though it would effectually scare the enemy, would destroy what the famished men so urgently needed, food. their progress was even slower than tom's had been. they had to stop frequently to make sure that all were together, and, as ill luck would have it, tom found that he was leading them through a part of the forest where the entanglements were more intricate and less penetrable than those he had formerly encountered. but he plodded on doggedly, speaking to no one of his anxiety when a glance at his watch told how time was fleeting. if they did not reach the camp of the savages before dawn their toil and fatigue would be wasted, and their peril greater than it had ever been. here and there, where the trees grew less close together, he felt a slight breeze blowing in his face, and at length he detected a faint smell of wood smoke. he halted, and told the rest, in a whisper, that they were approaching a settlement. from this point they advanced still more slowly and cautiously. then, with a suddenness that took them aback, they came to the edge of a clearing. at first tom was not sure whether it was the same that he had seen before. he had indeed approached it from a different direction. but a glance around satisfied him on this point, and the party stood within the shelter of the trees while underhill gave his orders. they were to fire one shot, then rush forward with loud shouts, seize what food they could lay hands on, and flee back in all haste. there was no time to be lost, for the sky already gave hint of dawn. underhill had scarcely finished speaking when there was a cry from a point near at hand. they had approached the camp from the wind-yard side; the breeze had carried either some murmur of underhill's voice, low as he had spoken, or some faint scent which the natives, as keen in their perceptions as wild animals, had detected. instantly the camp was in commotion: the dusky warriors poured forth from their little huts, and swept, a wild, yelling horde, upon the weary company. chapter x some praus and a junk smith's destination, on leaving penang, was port darwin in the northern territory of australia. he had never been at that port, and knew that a few years before it had been little more than a collection of grass humpys, inhabited by chinese and malays, with an iron shed for a custom house, and a vast expanse of forest and jungle behind. but it was the principal port in the northern part of australia, and he had no doubt that at palmerston, the thriving town on the eastern shore, he would be able to obtain the necessary supply of petrol and oil. his map informed him that his course lay across the malay peninsula, dutch borneo, and the islands of celebes and timor. it was necessary to rise to a considerable height to cross the hills that run like a spine on the malay peninsula, and having passed those, he came in little over an hour to the eastern coast, about a hundred and fifty miles north of singapore. in another hour and a half he reached the coast of borneo, whence for nearly three hours he saw beneath him an almost unbroken sea of foliage, only one range of hills breaking the monotony. somewhat after midday he came to the straits of macassar, at the south-east extremity of borneo. as he crossed these, he had an unpleasant shock. the engine missed sparking once or twice when he was half-way across the straits, and he shouted to rodier to loose the life buoys in case it failed. there were several small craft beneath him, so that he had no doubt of being picked up if the aeroplane fell, unless, indeed, sharks "got in first," as he put it. but the interruption of the sparking was only temporary, and he reached the island of celebes safely. then he thought it merely prudent to descend and overhaul the engine, though he deplored the loss of time. he landed on a solitary spot where there was no likelihood of being molested, and rodier having cleaned the fouled plug that had caused the trouble, they went on again. they were sailing low over the deep bay formed by the two huge tentacles that run south and south-east from the crab-like body of the island, when suddenly, above the noise of the engine, they heard the sharp crack of a shot, then two or three more. glancing up the bay to his left, smith saw a large junk, its sails hanging limp, surrounded by a number of small craft which from their appearance he guessed to be praus. he had read many a time of the fierce malayan pirates that used to infest these seas, and was somewhat surprised to find that piracy had apparently not been wholly suppressed. as a matter of fact, european vessels no longer ran the same risks as of old, the malays having learnt by experience that sooner or later retribution was bound to overtake them; but it was a different matter with chinese junks. so long as these could be attacked successfully and secretly, with no witnesses to carry information to the outside world, there was little risk in swooping down upon them. the celestial government did not follow up piratical forays of this kind in seas distant from the empire itself; and the malays were not likely to attack unless they had a great advantage over their victim in point of numbers. a junk might be seized and its crew massacred without the slightest whisper of the event coming to civilized ears. smith saw the praus clustering round the junk like a swarm of bees. it was impossible to doubt what the result would be. he was loth to lose more time: the plight of a chinese vessel was no concern of his; yet as he glanced up and down the bay and saw that it could obtain help from no other quarter, he could not bring himself to leave the hapless chinamen to the fate that must overtake them unless he intervened. slackening speed, he cried to rodier-- "we must do something." the frenchman nodded. smith swung the aeroplane round, and descended until it was circling immediately over the junk and its assailants. cries of amazement broke from some of the malays as they caught sight of this strange portent from the sky, but the greater number were climbing up the sides of the junk, heedless of all else than the work in hand. there was something fascinating to smith in the spectacle: the almost naked malays, armed with their terrible krises, swarming on every part of the vessel; the chinamen with pikes, muskets, and stink-balls fighting with the courage of despair to keep the boarders at bay. as yet the malays had not gained a permanent footing on the deck, but for every man that was felled or hurled back into the praus there were a dozen to fill the gap, and the most valorous of fighters could not long contend against such odds. for a little while smith was perplexed as to what he could do to help them. the necessity of keeping the aeroplane in motion did not permit either rodier or himself to use his revolver effectively. without doubt the malays would be scared off if they fully realized his presence, for they could scarcely have seen an aeroplane before, and it must be to them a very terrifying object. but a malay, when drunken with hemp and his own ferocity, is as little subject to impressions of his surroundings as an infuriated bull. the men left in the praus were gazing up in terror at the humming aeroplane; but even during the few seconds of smith's hesitation the others gained the deck of the junk forward of the mast, and with fierce yells and sweeping strokes of their krises began to drive the chinamen towards the poop. in a few minutes the whole crew would be butchered and thrown to the sharks. suddenly an idea occurred to smith. he planed upwards till the aeroplane reached a height of about a hundred feet above the vessel, calling to rodier to bombard the boarders with the full bottles of soda-water which they had with them. the frenchman chuckled as he seized the notion. smith kept the aeroplane wheeling in a narrow circle over the scene of combat, and when it was vertically above the deck rodier flung down several bottles one after another among the malays. the effect was instantaneous. these novel missiles flung from so great a height, acted like miniature bombshells, exploding with a loud report as they touched the deck, and flying into myriad fragments. not even the most rage-intoxicated malay could withstand the shock. the noise, the prickly splinters of glass, peppering their half-naked bodies like a charge of small shot, altered their blind fury to dismay and panic. with screams of affright they rushed to the sides of the junk. but the men left in the praus had already begun to paddle frantically away, heedless of the fate of their comrades. these plunged overboard, and swam after the departing vessels, whose flight rodier speeded with another bottle or two. in less than a minute the junk was clear. for some minutes smith shepherded the praus toward the shore. every now and then he saw a swimmer disappear suddenly: without doubt the sharks were gathering to claim their prey. then, feeling sure that the malays were too much terrified to think of renewing their attack on the junk, he again set his face eastward towards the open sea. chapter xi australian hospitality darkness was falling when the airmen came in sight of the chain of small islands running from java eastward almost to the australian coast. knowing that these islands were very hilly, smith rose to a great height, using his flashlight every now and then to guard against mishap. if he had not known the nature of the islands he could almost have guessed it from the behaviour of the aeroplane, which now tended to shoot upwards, now to sink downwards, irrespective of any volition of his own. this proved to smith that he had come into a region of variable currents of wind, such as might be set up by the hollows and ridges of mountain tops. the forcing of the machine upwards implied that the pressure of the air ahead was increased, owing to a lull in the wind behind; the sinking implied that the force of a contrary wind was diminished, and that the inertia of the machine prevented it from readily accommodating itself to the new conditions. during this part of the voyage smith had to be constantly alert to warp the planes instantaneously when he detected the least sign of instability, and he was very glad when he saw once more the reflection of the stars in the sea beneath him, and knew that he would encounter no more obstacles between timor, which he had just passed, and port darwin. his concern now was to pick up the light which, according to the admiralty's sailing directions, shone from an iron structure a hundred and twenty feet high, about a mile south of point charles, the western extremity of port darwin. approaching the port from the west, as he was, he should have no difficulty in seeing the light at a distance of eighteen or twenty miles, the sky being clear. but as time went on neither he nor rodier caught sight of the red speck for which they were looking. half-past eight came, local time, as nearly as smith could calculate it by his watch, which still registered london time; and even allowing for the hours lost he should by now have touched land. he was beginning to feel anxious when he suddenly found land below him--a land of dense forests, apparently low and flat. the question was, whether this was the mainland of australia or an island, possibly bathurst island, north of port darwin. it was impossible to tell. there was no time to ponder or weigh possibilities; yet if he took the wrong course he might be hours in discovering his mistake, and this part of australia being almost wholly uninhabited he might fail to find any guidance even if he descended. by a rapid guess--it could not be called reasoning--he concluded that he had probably steered a too southerly course, and that he would do right if he now steered to the north-east. his indecision had lasted only a few seconds; he brought the aeroplane round until she flew over the line of breakers washing the shore, and followed the coast at full speed. within a quarter of an hour both the men caught sight at the same moment of the red glow of the light, which grew in brilliance as they approached it, and then diminished as the lamp revolved. steering now to the east, in ten minutes they were sailing over the town of palmerston, the capital of the northern territory. the lighted streets, crossing at right angles, formed a pattern below them like the diagram for the game of noughts and crosses. they found a landing place a little to the north-east of the town, beyond the railway, and having safely come to earth, smith left rodier to attend to the engine and hastened towards the nearest house, a sort of bungalow of wood and iron. sounds of singing came from within. a chinaman opened the door to his knock. smith asked if the master was at home. "massa inside allo lightee," answered the man. "me go fetchee, chop-chop." he soon returned, followed by a stalwart bearded australian of about fifty years, smoking a big pipe. "well, mate," he said, eyeing smith curiously by the light of the door lamp; "what can i do for you?" "i must apologize for troubling you on sunday night," began smith. "no trouble, i assure you. come in." he led smith into a little room near the door. "we've a few friends in the parlour," he added, "and i guess you can tell me here what you want." "well, to put it shortly, i should be very much obliged to you if you'd direct me to mr. mackinnon. he's got some petrol waiting for me, at least i hope he has, and i'm in great need of it." "well, that's real unlucky now. he went to pine creek down the line only yesterday, and won't be back till to-morrow. are you lieutenant smith, may i ask?" "yes, that's my name." "mackinnon got a cable from java on friday about the petrol. he told me about it, and mighty astonished he was. motor-cars are pretty scarce about here, and he hasn't got a great quantity of petrol. i suppose it's for a motor-boat you want it? when did you leave java?--before the cable, i guess." "i haven't come from java at all. the cable was sent through there from london. the fact is, i've come in an aeroplane." "what! over the sea?" "yes, over sea and land. i left penang early this morning, and must go on at once." "well, if i ain't just about flummuxed! d'you mean to say you've come pretty near two thousand five hundred miles to-day?" "yes; i'll tell you in a word all about it." his host, whose name was martin, listened in mute amazement as smith briefly related the occasion of his long journey. "why, man," exclaimed mr. martin, when he had concluded his story; "wonders'll never cease. you must be dead beat. i never heard the like of it. come into the other room. the boys'll be mad to hear this." "really, i'd rather not. i haven't any time to lose, and mr. mackinnon being away--" "oh, that don't matter. he didn't expect you so soon, but we'll get what you want, though it is sunday. but a bite and a sup will do you all the good in the world, and won't take you long, and the boys will just go crazy if they don't see you. why, it's round the world you're going. my sakes! come along." he almost dragged smith into a large, low room, where several men and women, boys and girls, were seated round the wall. they were singing hymns to the accompaniment of a harmonium. a table loaded with eatables was pushed into a corner. the entrance of mr. martin, followed by a dirty, unkempt, and oddly dressed stranger, caused an abrupt cessation of the singing. the girl at the harmonium sprang up with a startled look. "what is it, father?" she asked anxiously. "nothing to be scart about, my girl. neighbours, this gentleman has come all the way from london in an aeroplane." the announcement was received in dead silence. smith stood like a statue as he listened to mr. martin's hurried explanation, resigning himself to be the target of all eyes. everybody crowded about him, silent no longer, but all asking questions at once. mrs. martin went to the table and brought from it a dish of chicken patties, which she pressed upon him. "do'ee eat now," she said, in the broad accent of devonshire. "i made 'em myself, and you must be downright famished." "not quite so bad as that," said smith, with a smile, "i had a good breakfast at penang, and have nibbled some biscuits and things on the way." "biscuits are poor food for a hungry man. eat away now, do." other members of the family brought ale, cider, fruit, cakes, enough for a dozen men, and for some minutes smith's attention was divided between eating and drinking and answering the questions which poured upon him in a never-ending flood. conscious of the lapse of time, he at last said that he must go and obtain the fuel for his engine. the men rose in a body, prepared to accompany him. "i don't think we had better all go, neighbours," said mr. martin. "i'll take mr. smith to the resident; we shall have to see him about the petrol, you know." "there's one thing your friends can do for me," said smith. "i want ten or a dozen rifles, and a lot of ammunition. can you provide them at such short notice?" "i should just think we can," said mr. martin. "neighbours, get together what mr. smith wants, and take 'em out along to the aeroplane. it's just a step or two beyond the railway, from what he says. mother, send out some eatables, too, something better than biscuits, to mr. smith's man, who's looking after it. now, mr. smith, come along. the residency isn't far off: we're only a small town." the two set off, and in a few minutes arrived at the residency, a stone building of more pretensions than the wood and iron erections of which the town mostly consisted. the resident was at home. once more smith had to tell his story, once more to listen to exclamations and reply to questions, grudging every moment that kept him. the resident had heard of the wreck of the _albatross_, in which he had been particularly interested, because he had some slight acquaintance with its commander. "i heard by wire only yesterday, mr. smith, that a gunboat had been sent from brisbane to the relief of your friends. she started three days ago, and can't possibly reach the wreck until to-morrow at earliest. but surely she will be there before you?" "not if i can get off soon, and don't meet with an accident on the way. it's nearly two thousand miles from here to ysabel island, i think?" "i can't tell you within a hundred or two, but it's about that. when do you think you will get there?" "about midday to-morrow, with luck. i shall take on here enough petrol to last the whole way, if i'm not thrown out of my course or meet with mishap; but i suppose i can get a fresh supply at port moresby, if necessary?" "i very much doubt it. and what about getting back?" "i'm going on as soon as i've seen that my people are safe--if i'm not too late. i've got to rejoin my ship at a.m. on friday morning, or i run the risk of being hauled over the coals." "surely not. they will make allowances, seeing what your errand has been." "they don't make allowances easily in the navy, sir. besides, i've set my heart on being back in time." "you will return this way, then. ysabel island is this side of the degree line." "well, no, sir. having started, i mean to get round the world if i can." "you're a sportsman, i see. well, now, what will your best course be?" he opened a map. "i've planned it all, sir," said smith hurriedly. "i go on to samoa: i'm sure to find petrol there; then honolulu, san francisco, st. paul, and st. john's, all big places, where i shall be able to get all i want. now, sir, i know sunday night must be an awkward time, but, with your assistance, i daresay i can get the petrol from mr. mackinnon's store." "there is a little difficulty which we shall have to get over. we've a very strict regulation against entering at night any godown containing explosives, owing to the risk of fire. mr. mackinnon's godown will be locked up; his chinaman will have the key; and as resident i can't openly countenance a breach of the rules. we have had a great deal of trouble to enforce them, and any relaxation would have a very bad effect on the chinamen: they wouldn't understand it." "don't you worry about that, sir," said mr. martin. "leave it to me. there'll be a fine to pay to-morrow," he added, with a chuckle; "and you can make it pretty stiff as a warning to the chinese; it'll be paid on the nail, i assure you." "very well, mr. martin. i shall know nothing about it officially until you come before me to-morrow, and i'll read you a severe lecture in addition to fining you. you can come to me for a subscription afterwards. good-bye, mr. smith: good luck. i sincerely hope you'll find your friends safe and sound. give my kind regards to lieutenant underhill." smith left the residency with mr. martin, who led him to the chinese quarter of the town, a dark assemblage of small huts, pig-sties, and poultry runs. "i don't know where mackinnon's boy lives," said mr. martin. "we shall have to hunt him up." all the huts were apparently in darkness, and smith, as he walked rapidly beside his guide, thought that he preferred the smell of petrol smoke to the mingled odours that assailed his nose. at length they discovered a light amid the gloom, and hastening towards it, discovered that it proceeded from an oil-lamp within one of the huts, the door of which was open. here they saw a group of chinamen squatting on the floor, engaged in playing a game with small figures carved in bone. "hi, boys," called mr. martin; "can tell where ching-fu keeps?" "my tellee massa," cried one of the younger men, rising. "my go long that side, show wai-lo." "come on, then: chop-chop." "allo lightee, massa: my savvy." he led them through what appeared to smith an intricate maze of narrow alleys, and presently pushed open the door of a hut, and called the name of ching-fu, entering without ceremony. the englishmen heard voices raised as in altercation, and after some minutes the guide reappeared, followed by a burly compatriot, rubbing his eyes. "he catchee sleep, say what for come fetchee this time." "now, ching-fu," said mr. martin, "this gentleman wants seventy gallons of petrol, at once. mr. mackinnon got a cable about it yesterday. come and get the cans, and have them taken up to my house at once." "no can do, massa," replied the man in a shrill tone of voice, that seemed singularly unbefitting to his massive frame. "topside man catchee my inside godown this time, ch'hoy! he makee big bobbely." "never mind about that. i'll pay the fine." "no can do, no can do so-fashion. massa pay squeeze; all-same, my catchee plenty bobbely, makee my too muchee sick." "i'll take care you don't suffer. come along: there's no time to lose." "this time sunday, look-see, massa. no workee sunday, no fear; that joss-pidgin day." "i can't waste time talking." smith whispered in his ear. "yes; mr. smith will give you ten shillings for yourself if you hurry up." "ch'hoy!" cried the other man. "massa numpa one genelum; my go long too, ching-fu. no can catchee ten bob evely day." ching-fu suffered himself to be persuaded. he beat up three or four of his neighbours, and proceeded with them to the godown, the englishmen following to ensure that no time was lost. in half-an-hour the necessary supplies of petrol and lubricating oil were being wheeled up on trucks towards mr. martin's house. on the way smith noticed a number of reddish lights at irregular intervals, moving in the same direction, and there were more people in the streets than when he had come down, all hurrying one way. "by jingo!" said mr. martin, "the news has spread, and it looks uncommonly like a torchlight procession. hullo, jenkins, what's the matter?" "that you, martin?" replied the man addressed. "everybody's talking about an aeroplane that's come down somewhere near mackenzie's shed, and i'm off to see if it's true. haven't you heard about it?" "i did hear something of the sort. i'll be up there, too, by-and-by." smith was a little annoyed at the possibility of being delayed by a crowd of spectators, but there was evidently no help for it. he returned to mr. martin's house, being assured by his host that he need have no anxiety about the safe delivery of the petrol. meanwhile rodier, on smith's departure, had, as usual, set to work to clean the engine. he was tired and sleepy, and he would have been more than human if he had not thought that his employer had rather the best of the arrangement. but any private soreness he might have felt did not affect the speed or the thoroughness of his work. he first of all examined the wires: there was nothing wrong with them. then he unscrewed the plugs and laid them on top of the engine, pulled the engine over, and finding that there was a poor spark, concluded that it was rather sooty. after cleaning the parts thoroughly with petrol, he again started the engine. the sparking being still weak, he examined the magneto: it was choked with grease. the next thing was to clean the brush with petrol and try the plugs again. the spark was now strong, and after giving everything a final polish, he replaced the plugs, satisfied that the engine was in good working order. switching off the searchlight for economy's sake, and leaving only the small light that illuminated the compass, he sat down, opened a tin of sardines, and began to eat them with biscuits. a fastidious person might have objected to the mingling of flavours, olive oil and petrol not combining at all well; but rodier was too old a hand to be dainty. he was in the act of munching a mouthful when his head dropped forward on his breast, and he fell into a sound sleep. he was wakened by a voice in his ear. jumping up with a start, he beheld a crowd of people watching him, men in sunday coats, men in shirt sleeves, ladies in light dresses, boys in knickerbockers and norfolks, girls in pinafores, chinamen in coats of many colours, many of the throng holding torches and lanterns. "ah! mille diables!" he cried. "keep back! this is not a penny theatre." "nor yet a cook-shop," said one of the visitors, with a laugh; "though you might think so." and then rodier saw that the men and boys foremost in the group carried plates, dishes, bowls, bottles, jugs. one had a dish of chicken patties, another a plate of bananas, a third a bowl of devonshire junket, a fourth a loaf of bread; others had cheese, apples, bottled beer, australian wine, doughnuts, pork sausages, sponge cake, ham sandwiches; in short, all the constituents of a high tea except tea itself. "thought you might be hungry after your ride," said one. "have a sandwich?" "have a banana?" said another. "you won't get 'em like this in london." "dry work, ain't it?" said a third, pulling a cork. "that'll buck you up." "please take one of my doughnuts," piped a small boy, creeping around the right leg of a sturdy planter. "ma foi! this take the cake," cried rodier, laughing heartily. "thank you, thank you, thank you! but truly i shall be very--very discomfortable if i eat all this riches. ah; this is good, this is hospitality. my friends, i thank you, i love you; vive l'australie!" bubbling with excitement, he shook hands with this one and that; and both hands being engaged at once in this hearty mode of salutation, he would have been able to enjoy little of the good fare provided had not one of the group begun to fend off the enthusiastic visitors. "that's enough," he said; "give him breathing space. eat away, man; the junket won't keep; everything else will, and you can take with you what is left." thus, when smith arrived on the scene, he found his man surrounded by an alfresco confectioner's shop, eating, laughing, talking, and breaking forth into eloquent praise of australian hospitality. "ah, mister," he cried, as smith joined him; "this is a country! we are pigs in clover. there is here enough for a regiment of zouaves." here a diversion was caused by the arrival of mr. martin's friends with rifles and ammunition enough to equip a company of grenadiers. smith accepted a dozen rifles and two or three hundred rounds of ammunition; and these had just been placed in the car when the chinamen arrived with the petrol. he implored the torchbearers to stand back while the inflammable fluid was put on board. this was done amid a buzz of excitement, everybody talking at once. "speech! speech!" cried some one in the crowd, and smith, thinking the shortest way out of his embarrassment was to comply, stood up in the car and thanked his good friends in palmerston for the warmth of their reception, and their kindness in supplying his wants. "you will excuse me from saying more, i know," he added. "i have nearly two thousand miles still to go; my father is in great danger; and we are already several hours behind time. i can't shake hands with you all, but i shall never forget your kindness. now, if you will clear the course so that i can get a run-off, i will say 'good-bye,' and hope that some day i may come back and not be in such a hurry." his simple words were cheered to the echo. then mr. martin and three or four more pressed the throng back. the good people cheered again as the machine ran forward and sailed above them, and smith, as he looked down upon the sea of faces lit up by the flaring torches until it became a blurred spot of light, felt cheered and encouraged, and set his face hopefully towards the starlit east. chapter xii stalked by pigmies smith had noticed before leaving palmerston that the wind had risen and was blowing steadily from the north-west. he was very anxious not to miss port moresby, the principal harbour in british new guinea, for he hoped, in spite of what the resident at palmerston had said, to be able to replenish his stock of petrol there, knowing very well that among the smaller islands of the south pacific the places where petrol was kept must be very few. he determined, however, if he should fail to make port moresby, to steer straight for ysabel island. if it turned out to be impossible to obtain petrol, he would have to resign himself to the inevitable, return to australia on the gunboat that had been dispatched to relieve the castaways, and endure as philosophically as he might the consequences of overstepping his leave. his course lay across the head of the gulf of carpentaria. by daybreak, if he were able to keep up full speed through the night, he should have passed the northernmost end of the yorke peninsula, and it might then be possible to take his bearings by the group of islands in the torres straits. on leaving these islands behind him he should soon come in sight of the mountain chain running from the middle of the gulf of paqua to the south-eastern extremity of new guinea. he might expect to sight these mountains from a very great distance, and in particular, if he could distinguish mount astrolabe, the square, flat-topped mountain lying behind port moresby, he would have no further anxiety about his position. the engine was working as well as ever, and by keeping over the sea, smith was able to avoid any gusts or cross-currents of air that might be set up by irregularities in the conformation of the land. taking turns as usual with rodier at the wheel, he was able to get a few hours of sleep; about an hour and a half after daybreak he descried the strange shape of mount astrolabe towering nearly four thousand feet into the sky, and in less than a quarter of an hour afterwards he came to the coast, a little to the west, as he judged, of port moresby. the aspect of the coast was far from inviting. there were long stretches of mangrove forest lining the shore, from which unpleasant exhalations arose, affecting his sense of smell even at the height of a hundred feet. beyond rose limestone hills, very scantily wooded, with a plentiful crop of rocks and stones. there was scarcely a patch of level ground to be seen. he came almost suddenly upon the port, lying in a hollow of the hills, and for some time looked in vain for a suitable landing place. the aeroplane, circling over the harbour, was seen by the sailors on the ships and the people on the quays, and its appearance brought all work to a standstill. at length smith discovered at the north end of the little town a spot where landing was just possible if the descent was not endangered by the wind. he felt more nervous than at any other time during his voyage, and was on the alert to set the propellers working at the first sign that the wind was too strong for him. to his great relief he came safely to the ground, with no other misadventure than collision with a huge eucalyptus tree at the edge of the clearing. without loss of time he made his way down to the town, and accosting the first white man he met, asked to be directed to the residence of the administrator. "you're a stranger, i guess," said the man, who had not seen the aeroplane. "come from sydney?" "no, from port darwin." "gosh! we don't often have vessels from there. how's my friend mr. pond?" "i don't know him." "well, that's real strange. i thought everybody knew dick pond; he's lived there fifty years or more. say, what's up?" he asked of a man hurrying in the opposite direction. "it's down. didn't you see it or hear it?" "hear what?" "the aeroplane." "an aeroplane! you don't say so." "it's a fact. wonder you didn't hear it. it made a noise like a thousand humming birds, and came down not half-a-mile over yonder. some german fellow, i shouldn't wonder, from constantine or finsch. hope we're not in for trouble; i'm off to see." "so will i. go straight on, stranger; you see that constable there? well, turn down by him, and you'll come to the administrator's in about five minutes." smith had taken off his overalls, so that his appearance attracted no more than a passing glance from the sailors, clerks, merchants, and natives whom he met hurrying towards the spot where the aeroplane had descended. he found the administrator's house without difficulty. not having a card, he gave his name and rank at the door. the administrator was at breakfast with his family when lieutenant smith was announced. imagining that a war vessel had unexpectedly put in at the harbour, he rose and went to the door to greet his visitor and invite him to his table. a look of disappointment crossed his face when he saw a dirty, unshaven object before him, dressed in stained brown serge, offering no resemblance to the trim spick-and-span officer he had expected to see. "i'm sorry to trouble you, sir," said smith, "i'm in need of some petrol, and--" "i don't keep petrol," said the administrator shortly. "you've come here by mistake, no doubt. there's no petrol for sale in the port, to my knowledge." "that's awkward. i'm afraid i must go on without. the aeroplane uses--" "the aeroplane! what aeroplane?" "i've come from port darwin in my aeroplane, and am going on at once to the solomon islands. i think i can just about manage it, so i won't detain you any longer, sir." "come now, let me understand. you have come from port darwin--by aeroplane! where is it?" "about half-a-mile beyond the town, sir." "but--from port darwin--across the sea?" there was nothing for it. once more smith retailed the outline of his story, the administrator listening with growing amazement. in the midst of it a young englishman came up, out of breath with running. "good morning, sir," he panted. "an aeroplane has just come down; people say it is a german. what had we better do?" "keep our heads, i should think," said the administrator. "mr. williams--my secretary--mr. smith. the aeroplane is mr. smith's, and has come from port darwin in ten hours. just run down to the harbour, williams, and tell captain brown to send up all the petrol there is in the launch, and a few gallons of machine oil as well. be as quick as you can." the secretary opened wide eyes. "where's it to be taken, sir?" "to the aeroplane, as quickly as possible." the young man ran off, looking as though he had received a shock. "this will give us excitement for a twelve-month, mr. smith," said the administrator. "it's lucky i can help you. i have just returned from a tour of inspection, and there are a few gallons of petrol in my motor-launch: not very much, i'm afraid, but better than nothing. i'm afraid i was rather short with you just now, but you'll admit that there was some excuse for me." "don't mention it, sir." "it's the queerest thing i ever heard in my life; in fact, i'm only just beginning to believe it. come in and have some breakfast; it'll be an hour or more before they get the petrol up, and i'd like my wife and youngsters to hear about it from your own lips. you'd like a wash, eh? come along." he led the way to his bath-room, turned on the water, arranged the towels, and bidding smith come to the first room downstairs on the left when he was ready, he went off to prepare his family for the guest. smith was by this time used to the exclamations of wonder, the volleys of questions, the compliments and gusts of admiration which his story evoked. he came through the ordeal of that breakfast-table with the coolness of a veteran under fire. his hostess asked whether sailing in the air made him sea-sick; her elder son wanted to know the type of engine he favoured, the quantity of petrol it consumed per hour, and what would happen if he collided with an airship going at equal speed in the opposite direction. the younger boy asked if he might have a ride in the aeroplane; the girl begged smith to write his name in her album. the governess sat with clasped hands, gazing at him with the adoring ecstasy that she might have bestowed on a godlike visitant from another sphere. presently the administrator said-- "now get your hats on. we'll take mr. smith up in the buggy and see him off." when they reached the aeroplane they found rodier demolishing some of the good things provided by mrs. martin, the centre of an admiring crowd of curious white men and wonder-struck natives. two papuan constables were patrolling around with comical self-importance. the petrol had arrived. when it was transferred to the aeroplane the administrator insisted on drinking smith's health in a glass of mr. martin's beer, and then called for three cheers for the airmen. his daughter had brought her kodak and took a snapshot of them as they sat in their places ready to start. the natives scattered with howls of affright when the engine began sparking, the constables being easily first in the stampede, one of them pitching head first into the eucalyptus. the engine started, the men cheered, the women waved handkerchiefs, and as the aeroplane soared up and flew in the direction of the coast the whole crowd set off at a run to gain a position whence they might follow its flight with their eyes. for some time smith steered down the coast, intending to cross the owen stanley range as soon as he saw a convenient gap. after about twenty miles, however, he ran with startling suddenness into a tropical storm. it was as though he had passed from sunlight into a dark and gloomy cavern. rain fell in torrents, and he knew by the extraordinary and alarming movements of the aeroplane that the wind was blowing fiercely, and not steadily in one direction, but gustily, and as it seemed, from all points of the compass. for the first time since leaving the euphrates he was seriously perturbed. it was true that the force of the wind did not appear to be so great as it had been before his meeting with monsieur de montausé on the babylonian plain; but his situation was more perilous than then, for he was passing over hilly country, and the vertical wind-eddies were infinitely more difficult to contend with. to attempt to alight would be to court certain destruction; his only safety was to maintain as high a speed as possible, trusting to weather through. he judged by the compass that the wind was blowing mostly from the south-east, almost dead against him. fearing lest the enormous air-pressure should break the planes if he strove to fly in the teeth of the wind, he decided to swing round and run before it for a time, in the hope that it would drop by and by. as he performed this operation the aeroplane rocked violently, and he thought every moment that it must be hurled to the ground; but by making a wide circle he got round safely, and keeping the engine at full speed he retraced his course, soon seeing port moresby again, far below him to the left. he had no means of exactly determining the rate at which he was now travelling under the joint impulse of the wind and his propellers; but from the way in which the landscape was slipping past him he thought the speed could hardly be less than two hundred and twenty miles an hour. it occurred to him now to increase his altitude, with the idea of rising above the area of the disturbance. but he found that the mountains on his right hand rose higher than he had supposed. in proportion as he ascended, they seemed to rise with him. he saw their snow-clad tops stretching far away into the distance, and became conscious of a great difference in the temperature. he began to feel dizzy and short of breath, and presently his eyes were affected, and he saw everything as in a mist. when rodier shouted that he was feeling sick smith at once checked the ascent. the aneroid indicated a height of feet, and it was clear from the greater steadiness of the machine that it had risen out of the stratum of air affected by the storm. but smith's satisfaction at this was soon dashed by the discovery that there was something wrong with the engine. it missed sparking, recovered itself for a minute or two, then missed again. smith looked anxiously below him. the nearest ground was about a thousand feet beneath; on his right the mountains still rose hundreds of feet above him, blocking the way to his true course. hoping that the failure in the sparking was only temporary, smith swung the aeroplane round, in order to take advantage of this calm region of air and at least fly in the right direction. at the same time he looked out anxiously for a spot to which he might descend if the defect in the engine proved persistent. in a very few moments it was clear that to continue his flight would be no longer safe, and he prepared to glide. while he was searching for a convenient landing place the sparking ceased altogether. the whole country was rugged; below, almost wholly forest land as far as the eye could reach; above, bare rocks or scrub, and at the greatest altitude, snow. the aeroplane flew on for a little by its own momentum, and smith wasted a few painful seconds before, despairing of finding level ground, he began to descend in a long spiral. as he neared the ground, rodier's quick eye detected a little river cutting its way through the forest, and at one spot a widening of its bed, due, probably, to the action of freshets. here there was a narrow space of bare earth, the only clear spot in the landscape, and even this was surrounded with dense woodland. he pointed it out to smith. there was no room for mistake or misjudgment. smith knew that if he did not strike the exact spot the aeroplane must crash into the forest that lined both banks of the river. never before had so heavy a demand been made upon his nerve and skill. but the severe training of the navy develops coolness and judgment in critical situations; his long apprenticeship to aerial navigation enabled him to do the right thing at the right time; and, thanks to the calmness of the air in this lofty region, the machine answered perfectly to his guiding hand, and settled down upon the exact spot he had chosen, the little open stretch on the right bank of the stream, within eight or ten yards of the water. his hand was trembling like a leaf when he stepped out on to the land. the teeth of both men were chattering. "mon dieu!" cried rodier. "that was a squeak, mister. le diable de machine! it seem i do nothing at all but clean, clean, all the way from london, and yet--" "and yet down we come, 'like glistening phaethon, wanting the manage of unruly jades,'" quoted smith. "still, we're safe, and i've known men killed or lamed for life getting off a horse." "but with the horse you have the whip, with the machine you have only the rags to clean her with. ah! coquine, i should like to flog you, to give you beans." he shook his fist at the engine. smith laughed. "beans would suit a horse better, roddy," he said. "let's be thankful the breakdown didn't happen while we were in the storm. that would have been the end of us. come on, we'll soon put things to rights. this loss of time is getting very serious." they set to work to discover the cause of the failure. as they expected, the sparking plugs were completely clogged. smith took these down to the stream to give them a thorough cleaning, while rodier overhauled the other parts of the machine. when, after half-an-hour's hard work, everything appeared to be in order again, they sat down to snatch a meal, leaving the plugs to be replaced at the last moment. while thus engaged, smith scanned the surroundings with some curiosity. the stream, in cutting its way through the hillside, had hollowed it out in a gentle curve. the channel itself threaded the base of a huge natural cutting, most of which was covered with trees, only the middle part, where the torrent had laid bare a path, being comparatively clear. all around were trees large and small, tall and stunted, leafy and bare. as smith's eye travelled upward, he noticed about a hundred and fifty yards distant, almost at the top of the gorge, a small ape-like form flitting across a part of the forest that was a little thinner than the rest. "see that, roddy?" he said. rodier looked round. "what, mister?" "an ape, i fancy, perhaps an orang-outang. i know they infest the forests of the malayan archipelago, but i can't call to mind that they're natives of new guinea." "all the natives of new guinea are apes," said rodier viciously. "at port moresby they came round me like monkeys at the zoo." "there he is! do you see him?" smith's hand stole mechanically to his hip pocket, where he kept his revolver. then he smiled, remembering that the chances of stopping an orang-outang with a revolver bullet were about one in ten thousand. "i don't see him, mister." "he has disappeared. but, my word, roddy, there's another, and another--four or five; look at them, in the undergrowth yonder. i don't like this. they're savage beasts if offended, and if they attack us we shall be in rather a tight corner." he rose, keeping his eye on the spot where the ape-like forms had shown themselves for an instant, to vanish again. as his eye became accustomed to the gloomy depths of the forest, he became still more alarmed to see a number of black, apish faces at various points among the thick undergrowth surrounding the clearing. another form flitted across the thin open space in which he had seen the first. "by george! he's got a bow in his hand. they're men! this is worse still. the orang-outang is bad enough, but he avoids men, i believe, unless interfered with or alarmed. these forest savages are dead shots with their arrows, and they'll look on us as intruders. if they're as spiteful as most of their kind we shall have trouble. get your revolver ready, but we must pretend we haven't noticed them. you've got to replace those plugs; do it as quickly as you can. don't look round; i'll keep guard." he saw several of the savages pass across in the same direction as the first, and now he noticed, what had escaped him before, that they were diminutive creatures, certainly not more than four feet high. he had clearly stumbled upon a settlement of forest pigmies. from what he had read of pigmy races he knew that it required extreme patience and a great expenditure of time to win their confidence. that was out of the question now. his first impulse was to hail them, and try to make friends of them by offering some small present; but he checked himself as the thought flashed upon him that a movement on his part might startle them and provoke a discharge of their tiny arrows, which were probably poisoned. he could not doubt they had seen him long before he had seen them, and had been for some time playing the part of silent spectators, being kept at a distance, perhaps, by the aspect of the strange object which they had observed descending among them from the sky. it must be sufficiently alarming to their untutored eyes. but after a time their dread seemed to be overpowered by curiosity or hostility, and smith saw, with alarm, that the little figures were gradually drawing nearer, flitting silently as shadows from tree to tree, and hiding themselves so effectually, even when they came to closer quarters, that nothing but the flicker of a brownish form among the undergrowth, or a round black head projecting from tree or bush, betrayed their presence. "nearly done, roddy?" he asked, without turning. "pretty near." with an outward calmness that corresponded little to his inward sensations smith lit a cigarette, racking his wits for some means of keeping the pigmies at a distance without provoking a cloud of arrows or a dash in force. the half-circle was gradually becoming narrower. he fancied that their silent movements were checked when he began to smoke, and this suggested to him that an appeal to their curiosity might hold them intent or awestruck until rodier had finished his task. "how much longer, roddy?" he asked quietly. "three minutes." smith did the first thing that occurred to him. he took a letter from his pocket, tore it slowly into small pieces, and let the fragments float away on the breeze. this device appeared to be successful for a few seconds; but when the scraps of paper had disappeared or fallen to the ground the pigmies resumed their stealthy silent advance. smith had another idea. whistling the merry air of the "saucy arethusa," he took two backward steps towards the aeroplane, seized a half-empty petrol can, and strolled unconcernedly with it to the bank of the stream, which at this point formed a slowly moving pool. as he went he unscrewed the stopper, and on reaching the brink, he poured some of the petrol into the water. then taking two or three matches from his box, he struck them together, and flung them into the petrol floating on the surface. the effect of his stratagem was immediate. the spectacle of water apparently on fire was too much for the simple savages. for the first time they broke their silence, and were seen rushing up the wooded slope, uttering shrill cries of alarm. only then did smith become aware how numerous they were. the whole forest seemed to be alive with them. "done, mister," cried rodier. smith hurried back to the aeroplane, noticing as he approached several small arrows sticking upright in the ground close to it. "they shot at you when you turned your back," said rodier. "shall we fire at them?" "no; leave them alone. i think they're scared now. but it's lucky i thought of setting fire to the petrol, or they would certainly have been upon us, and there's such a crowd of them that we might have been done for. set the engine working. the noise will keep them away." with some difficulty they turned the aeroplane round to face down stream, where there was a fairly level stretch of a few yards for running off. vaulting on board, they started, and in five or six seconds the aeroplane was humming along a hundred feet above the trees. chapter xiii the rescue smith had taken no account of the time he had lost, first by the storm, then by the overhauling of the engine; but, little or much, it increased the peril of his father, and lessened his own chance of accomplishing what he had set out to do. when an engine is always running at full speed, time lost can only be made up by reducing the length of stoppages, and smith felt even this to be almost out of the question. as soon as he was once more afloat, he thought his best plan was to make for the coast again, and follow this without attempting to cross the mountains. the storm had ceased; the engine was working smoothly, and, steering south-east, smith in a few minutes found himself again in the neighbourhood of port moresby. again he ran down the coast, but when about half-way between the port and the extreme south-east corner of the island he espied a gap in the mountain chain and sped through it, almost exactly on the ten-degree line. he had to rise to a considerable height, and was for some moments troubled by the masses of snow-white cumulose clouds that lay beneath him, cutting off all view of the ground. the vast expanse of cloud lay dazzling white in the sunlight, with peaks and crags such as he imagined alpine summits must show. but though it appeared to be perfectly still, every now and then he saw small jets of mist shoot upward, like water from a geyser, and at such times the vertical currents affected the elevation of the aeroplane. he soon crossed this cloudy sea, however, and in a few hours reached the north-east coast of new guinea, and knew that nothing but an island-spangled sea separated him from his destination. about noon he came in sight of the mountains of vanguna island to the east of new georgia. ysabel island lay beyond this, running from north-west to south-east. his intention was to round cape prieto, the south-eastern extremity of it, and search the eastern shore northward. in another hour he saw russell island, a green gem in the ocean southward, and beyond this, to the south-east, the peaks of guadalcanar. another twenty minutes brought him abreast of florida island, and he was heading up the indispensable strait, with thousand ships bay and the lofty peaks at the southern end of ysabel lying on his left hand. all at once rodier descried a cloud of smoke on the horizon far up the strait. lifting his binocular, he shouted excitedly-- "it is a gunboat, mister. she flies the british flag." "we've beaten her!" cried smith. he was divided between pleasure at his success, and sorrow that the castaways were as yet unrelieved, for he could not doubt that the gunboat was the same that had been dispatched from brisbane to their assistance. before many minutes had elapsed he had overtaken the vessel. slowing down and wheeling overhead, he saw that the aeroplane was the object of wondering interest on the crowded deck. "ahoy, there! who are you?" he shouted through his megaphone. "gunboat _frobisher_, captain warren," came the reply. "who are you?" "aeroplane without a name, lieutenant smith of h.m.s. _imperturbable_, bound for ysabel island to relieve lieutenant underhill." "the dickens! that's my job! where do you hail from?" "from london, sir. i'm afraid i've beaten you by a neck." "great scott! is this the admiralty's latest?" "not official, sir; i'm here in a private capacity. my father's among the wrecked party. i'm on leave." "so it seems. when are you due back?" "on friday morning." "i'm sorry for you, then. but, goodness alive! when did you start? the wreck was only reported four days ago." "started friday morning, sir." "gammon!" "rasher to you, sir." "you haven't lost much time, at any rate. what's your speed?" "about a hundred and ninety. whereabouts was the wreck, sir?" "a hundred miles or so up the coast, according to the men of underhill's party with me." "then i'll bid you good-bye for the present. i'll tell him you're coming." "hope you'll find him alive." waving a good-bye, smith flew on at full speed. for twenty minutes he did not attempt to follow the indentations of the coast, but set a course parallel with its general trend. then, however, he steered so that, without actually tracing every curve of the shore, he was able to survey it pretty closely. by dead reckoning and the assistance of his chart he was able to check from minute to minute his approximate position. he had passed mount gaillard, and saw, some miles to the north, the remarkable saddle shape of mount mahaga. then he made a bee-line for fulakora point. rounding this, his course was to the north-west. the coast was steep and precipitous; here and there were reefs, over which the sea broke in white upward cascades, and he was at no loss to understand how even the most skilfully navigated vessel might easily come to grief. about forty miles from the extremity of the island he flew over an immense lagoon, extending for several miles between ysabel island and a series of islets and reefs lying off the shore. from this point the sea was dotted with islets so numerous that it was impossible, at his high speed, to identify them. but he recognized the deep indentation of marcella bay, confirming his observation by the conspicuous wooded islet rising some hundred feet from the sea at its northern arm. he knew that the scene of the wreck must be within a few miles of this point, and reduced his speed so that he might scan the sea for any sign of the _albatross_. for some time he flew up and down, but failed to distinguish a battered hull, a funnel, or any remnant of the vessel. it was plain that she had been entirely broken up. this was perplexing. he wondered how he was to discover the party, if they were yet alive. the island itself appeared, from his position off the shore, to be an impenetrable mass of forest. flying in a little nearer, and going dead slow, rodier presently caught sight of a square fenced enclosure within a few yards of the edge of the cliff. smith steered directly over it, descending to a height of about fifty feet, and then saw in the middle of the space a long piece of navy tarpaulin, several biscuit tins, a hammer, two or three hatchets, and other objects, which only white men could have placed there. it flashed upon him in a moment that the shipwrecked party had encamped here. but there was not a human being in sight, and he felt a stabbing conviction that he had come too late. sick at heart, he made up his mind to descend and examine the place and its surroundings more closely. there was plenty of room for the aeroplane within the enclosure. coming to the ground, he stepped, with rodier, out of the car, each carrying his revolver. now he saw, in addition to the articles before mentioned, a good number of arrows at various points, a few broken spears, a tomahawk of a rude kind. here and there, on the barricade and below it, there were dark stains. these signs only increased his anxiety, but at the same time awakened wonder. why had the party left their fort? it seemed scarcely likely that they had been overpowered in an assault, for there were no marks of a struggle within the barricade, and if the savages had succeeded in an attack they would certainly have appropriated all that they could lay hands on; even the most trivial objects would be precious to unsophisticated children of nature. rodier suggested that the castaways had been taken off by some passing vessel, and smith, catching at the hope, was beginning to accept this view, when, lifting the tarpaulin, he found beneath it the papers of the _albatross_, some notebooks filled with jottings in his father's spidery handwriting, and a few small cases that contained bits of rock, fossils, and other specimens dear to the geologist, each labelled with the name of the place where it had been found. smith was now thoroughly alarmed. he knew that his father, if he had quitted the place voluntarily, would never have left behind these fruits of his labours. yet why was the fort deserted? "ah, bah! they have gone foraging," said rodier, unwittingly hitting on the truth. "but they would never leave the place unguarded," replied smith. "the savages certainly attacked them; look at the arrows and spears. but mr. underhill would not have yielded without fighting; yet there are no dead bodies, not even the cut-up earth there would be if they had had a tussle. i can't account for it any way." "well, mister, we better look them up." "in the aeroplane, you mean?" "yes. they must be here, in this island, or not here. in the aeroplane we search all over." "it will be like looking for rabbits in bracken," said smith, pointing to the forest. "still, we must try." he sat down on a biscuit tin to think over the position and evolve a plan. a random search might be mere waste of time. starting with the assumption that the castaways were still on the island, he said to himself that they must have left the fort voluntarily, or there would certainly be signs of a struggle. that they had left no one on guard seemed to show that they were in no alarm, otherwise they would have carried their belongings with them. his father, he knew, would not abandon his note-books and specimens. was it possible that they were making reprisals on the enemy who had previously attacked them? but even in this case they would hardly have left their fort wholly undefended, unless in the heat of victory they had rushed out in headlong pursuit, a rash movement which a naval officer would hardly countenance. besides, they were but ill-provided with arms. had they been enticed forth by the savages? in that case the savages would surely have plundered the camp, unless--and now his thought and his pulse quickened--unless there had not yet been time. perhaps they had only recently left the place. then they could not be far away, and if they had yielded to allurement there might still be time to save them. he started up, and told rodier, who had begun his customary task of cleaning the engine, the conclusion to which he had come. "we will ascend at once," he said, "and scour the neighbourhood. the forest is thick, but perhaps there are clear spaces in it. let us lose no time." they dragged the aeroplane to the inner extremity of the enclosure, turned it round, and started it towards the sea. in less than a minute it was two hundred feet in the air. then smith wheeled round and steered across the camp, intending to take that as a centre, and strike out along successive radii, so that in the course of an hour or two, even at moderate speed, he would have searched a considerable extent of country in the shape of a fan. it was a question how far he should proceed in one direction, but relying on his idea that the evacuation of the camp could only recently have taken place, he resolved to content himself at first with a distance of about ten miles. having risen to a height of about three hundred feet, he found that he commanded a view of many miles of the country. far to the south were the mountains; all around was forest, broken here and there by patches of open rocky ground. beneath him the trees were so densely packed that a whole army might have been encamped among them without giving a sign of its presence. he sped in a straight line west-north-west of the fort, at a speed of between forty and fifty miles an hour; to go faster would have rendered careful exploration of the country difficult. having completed ten miles without passing over a single spot of clear ground, he flew about five miles due west, then turned the machine and steered back towards the fort along the next imaginary radius of his circle. he had arranged that rodier should scan the country to the left while he himself kept as good a look-out to the right as was possible when he had engine and compass to attend to. they had not flown far on this backward journey when rodier, who was using his binocular, shouted that he saw, on a headland far to the left, what appeared to be a native village. smith instantly steered towards it. it was the first evidence of human habitation they had as yet come across, and even at the risk of losing his bearings he must examine it. he could now afford to go at full speed, and a few minutes brought him above the village, which was a collection of rude huts perched on a steep headland overlooking the sea, and defended on its inland and less precipitous side by barriers of stakes. the noise made by the engine as the aeroplane swept down towards the village first drew all the inhabitants from their huts into the open enclosure, and then sent them scampering back with shrieks of alarm as they saw the strange object in the air. a glance sufficed to assure smith, as he wheeled round the village, that it contained no white men, unless they had been taken inside the huts, which was unlikely. without loss of time he steered as nearly as he could towards the point at which he had diverged from his settled course, and returned to the camp, pausing once to examine a small tract where the trees were somewhat thinner, allowing him to see the ground beneath. once more he started, steering now in a more westerly direction. there were several clear spaces along this radius, and smith flew over them slowly, more than once wheeling about to make sure that his eyes had missed nothing. but at these times he saw no human beings, nothing but the wild animals of the forest, huge pigs being diminished to the size of rabbits, and dingoes to the size of mice. these scurried away when they heard the noise of the engine, and smith hovered around for a time to see if the flight of the animals attracted the attention of men, but in vain. having again covered ten miles, as nearly as he could judge, he swung round to the southwest. a minute or two later he came to the largest open space he had yet seen, clear of undergrowth as well as of trees. there were no huts upon it, and at first he saw no sign of men; but all at once rodier cried that there was a ladder against one of the trees on the farther side of the clearing. flying towards it, and descending until the aeroplane was level with the tree-top, smith was amazed to see a brown woman, with a brown baby under her arm, scuttling down the ladder towards the ground. at the same time he became aware that there were ladders against many of the trees in the neighbourhood, and women and children were descending by them, showing all the marks of terror. he had come upon a collection of the curious tree-houses, sixty or seventy feet from the ground, which some of the islanders inhabit. the terrified people when they reached the ground fled into the forest. there was no man among them, which led smith to suspect that the men were either hunting for food, or were perhaps fighting with the castaways. instead of returning directly to the camp, therefore, he pursued his flight across the forest in the same direction in which the startled natives had run. now for the first time he wished that he could have had a silent engine, for then his ears might have given the information which failed his eyes. though he flew to and fro for some time in the vicinity of the tree-houses, he discovered no other break in the forest; and the impossibility of knowing what was going on beneath that vast screen of foliage began to affect him with hopelessness of success. he wished it were possible to descend in the clearing, and continue his search on the ground. the appearance of the aeroplane was so terrifying to the islanders that he need fear no opposition to his landing. but the idea occurred to him only to be at once dismissed. when once among the trees, away from the aeroplane, he would be no longer sacrosanct. those islanders who had actually witnessed his descent might fear him as a denizen of the sky; but any others that met him in the forest would not be restrained by superstitious fear from, treating him as an enemy. further, having once involved himself in the obscure and pathless depths of the forest, he might wander for hours, or even days, without finding the aeroplane. it was an impossible course of action. hopeless as he was becoming, he felt that he could do nothing better than persevere as he had begun; after all, he had as yet covered only a small wedge of the segment he had proposed to himself. but he now found himself in a difficulty. in the excitement of his recent discovery he had neglected to keep a watch upon the compass, and he was now at a loss to know the precise direction in which to steer. he must certainly go to the east, but he could not tell whether he was north or south of the camp. it occurred to him that by rising to a greater height he might probably be able to descry the camp, so he planed upwards until he attained an altitude of nearly two thousand feet, rodier searching the country seawards through his binocular. "i see it!" he cried at length, adding, as smith began to steer towards it, "wait a minute, mister; i see all the country better here; i can pick out the clearings, though they are only dark blots; but yet i can do it." he swept the country for miles around. beyond the forest, far to the west, there were stretches of rugged uplands, bare of vegetation. it was not at all likely that the englishmen had gone so far from their camp, whether willingly or unwillingly. to the east and south-east stretched the sea, and rodier declared that he saw, an immense way off, the smoke of a steamer, no doubt the gunboat. lowering the glass to scan the nearer prospect, he suddenly gave a lusty shout. "i see smoke, mister; a quite little smoke, as of a cigarette." "where?" asked smith eagerly. "south-east of us, in the forest, about five or six miles off." "we'll go and see what it comes from." smith scarcely dared to hope that the discovery of the smoke would be of any assistance to him. but it was the first indication of a camp within the forest, whether of the islanders or of his friends, and he could not neglect to investigate it. the aeroplane flew along at the speed of a swallow. in little more than three minutes it reached the twine of smoke. checking the engine, smith wheeled the aeroplane round until it passed slowly over an extensive gap in the forest. he looked down. the smoke rose from a fire in the midst of the clearing. at a little distance from it there was a throng of islanders, gazing up awe-struck at the strange apparition whose approach had been heralded from afar, and which now circled above them, making terrifying noises. but smith was not interested in the islanders. he peered among them and around for white men. he felt a shock of bitter disappointment; all the upturned faces were brown. but the movement of the aeroplane brought him to the verge of the forest, and then rodier gave a shout of delight. "there they are! there they are, mister!" he cried, pointing obliquely downwards. smith looked over. in the shade at the foot of the trees he saw a number of men bound each to a trunk. their faces, directed upwards, were too darkly shadowed for him to distinguish their race; but they were clothed. beyond doubt they were the castaways. in a moment he determined what to do. while the aeroplane circled slowly above their heads the islanders would feel no more than awe and wonder. they huddled together like a flock of sheep in a thunderstorm, probably not as yet connecting the aerial visitant with their prisoners. what was required was to scatter them, suddenly, in a way that would smite them with terror, and cause them to flee without thought of the captives helpless against the trees. smith sailed away eastward, disappearing from their sight. he had made a quick mental calculation of the extent of the clearing. rising to the height of about three hundred feet above the ground, while still out of sight he suddenly stopped the engine and warped the planes for a dive. the aeroplane descended rapidly, grazed the tops of the trees, and then, more slowly, swept, silently, in a gentle curve towards the throng of men, who were chattering about the mysterious sky visitor. when they caught sight of it they were struck dumb, and for a few moments seemed to be fixed to the ground with amazement. then, as it came directly towards them, and smith set the noisy propellers in motion, they uttered shrieks of dismay and terror, and fled like hares into the forest. some of them started too late. smith, being now near the ground, set the engine going at low speed, overtook a group of the islanders before they reached shelter, and with a touch of the aeroplane flung them violently on their faces. he then wheeled round, and rose once more into the air in order to effect a complete descent. the prostrate natives lay for some time in a paralysis of fear; but finding that they were unhurt, and that the monster had withdrawn from them, they picked themselves up, and ran to overtake their friends, leaving the space clear. in another minute smith had brought the aeroplane safely to the ground. rodier and he sprang out and ran towards the bound figures. "it's charley!" called a voice, in tones wherein surprise and joy were blended. and then the sailormen, famished and feeble as they were, broke forth in hoarse cheers and incoherent shouts, which died away in sobs. chapter xiv sir matthew improves the occasion to cut the bonds of the prisoners was the work of only a few moments. the sailors, the instant they were free, made a rush upon the villagers' cooking-pots, their passion for food overcoming curiosity, gratitude, and all other sentiments. dr. smith gripped his son's hand, his emotion being too great for words. tom slapped his brother on the back. lieutenant underhill was divided between his eagerness to learn all the circumstances of this strange intervention and his anxiety to prevent his men from getting out of hand. but a glance at them as they made free with the natives' provisions relieved him on this score, and when smith explained that he had on board the aeroplane certain delectables in the shape of chicken patties (becoming rather stale), doughnuts, plumcake, a bottle of australian burgundy, and sundry other remnants of the provisions furnished by the hospitable folk of palmerston, he voted an immediate adjournment for lunch, and the officers, with the smiths, were soon satisfying their clamant hunger. "how in the world did you know about us?" asked tom. "by cable from brisbane." "then our boat did not go down?" said underhill. "no; your men lost their sail and rudder, and drifted until they came into the current along the south coast of new guinea. they were picked up by a barque bound for brisbane, and carried there." he gave them a rapid summary of his flight across the world. the sudden change in their fortunes induced a readiness to find amusement in the most trifling incident, and they laughed loud and long as he retailed the little mishaps and the comic episodes of his journey. then underhill in his turn related all that had happened since the wreck, and all became grave again as he told of the capture in the early morning after their night march, the wild orgy in which their captors had indulged, the elaborate preparations they had made under the direction of their sorcerer for the sacrificial rite to which their captives were destined. but for the appearance of the aeroplane he had no doubt that within a few short hours they would have been massacred, and their skulls hung up at the entrance of the huts as signal marks of the villagers' prowess. "the poor wretches hate all white men," said underhill, "and it can hardly be wondered at. they are recruited to labour in our plantations, and come back with ailments unknown to them until they met the white man. they do not distinguish, and a geologist like dr. smith--" "ah!" said the doctor anxiously; "my specimens!" "they are safe, father," replied charley. "i saw them in your fort. the fact that the place had not been looted gave me some hope that you were still alive. i wonder that the islanders have not made hay of everything." "no doubt they deferred the performance until they had disposed of us," said underhill. "but now, how do we stand? you have saved us, but you can't take us all off in your aeroplane." "a gunboat is on her way here; i passed her; she will arrive soon." "hurray!" shouted the men. "your men are on her, mr. underhill," continued smith. "she will probably arrive by the time we get back to the fort." "that is a difficulty. we must be at least seven or eight miles from it, and the whole country is forest in which the natives may waylay us. they have left our rifles, but practically all our ammunition is gone." "i have rifles and ammunition, as you see. but the savages have had such a fright that i think they will keep out of the way of the aeroplane. if i fly as low as possible over the trees they will hear the humming and run away, and you can steer your course by the same sound." "a good idea. we'll burn their huts and weapons, as a warning to behave better in future, and then we'll go." this was done, smith and rodier appropriating as trophies several spears and bows and arrows, and also some of the fetish charms hung at the entrance to the huts. the crew, having satisfied their hunger, hunted through the village for loot, and grumbled when they found nothing that they considered worthy the consideration of british sailormen. then rodier took the aeroplane aloft, smith having decided to walk with the rest, and the party set off towards the coast, marching by the guidance of the sound that descended from the tree-tops, dulled by its passage through thick layers of foliage. the scare had proved effectual. never a sign of the natives was seen during the three hours' march to the fort. when they reached it, dr. smith hastened at once to assure himself that his specimens and note-books were safe. tired out, the whole party lay down to rest. "we'll go and meet the gunboat, roddy," said smith, when the aeroplane alighted. "captain warren will be glad to hear that all is well." they set off, flew down the coast, and in a few minutes descried the gunboat, apparently about fifteen miles off. "all well, sir," shouted smith, as he met the vessel. "i'll pilot you to the place." "you have put my nose out of joint," replied the captain, "and done my men out of a fight, too. well, i'm glad underhill is safe. how far have we to go?" "an hour will do it, sir. i'll keep you company; a jog-trot will be a pleasant change after my scamper." "diable, mister," said rodier; "that will waste an immense quantity of petrol, and we have none to spare." "you're right, roddy. i daresay we have used in the last few hours enough to carry us to samoa." he explained to captain warren the necessity he was under of economizing fuel, and promised to fire a rifle as a guide to him when the gunboat came abreast of the fort. then he returned at full speed, brought the aeroplane to the ground within the enclosure, and having arranged with his brother to give the signal when the gunboat came in sight, lay down beside rodier and was fast asleep in an instant. he was wakened by a roar of cheering when captain warren, with some of his men, the four members of the crew of the _albatross_, and a corpulent little civilian about fifty years old, marched into the camp, bringing a load of provisions. a huge bonfire was kindled in the centre of the enclosure, and round it the whole company gathered to enjoy a royal feast. darkness had sunk over the land; the flames cast ruddy reflections upon their features; and no one observing their cheerful expression, or listening to their merry chat, would have suspected that, a few hours before, half of the party had been face to face with a terrible death. smith was the hero of the day. lieutenant underhill got up and proposed his health; the toast was drunk in wine, beer, and water, and some wild dogs that had been allured from the forest by the glare fled howling when the mariners raised their lusty voices to the tune of "for he's a jolly good fellow." nor was rodier forgotten. tom smith called for the honours for him also; he was acclaimed in shouts of "good old frenchie!" "well done, matey," and sundry other boisterous tokens of applause. nothing would content the party but that smith should tell the story of his flight. they listened spell-bound as he related his experiences at the various stopping-places, and his adventures at sea. when the story was finished, the cheers broke out again, and the stout little man who accompanied captain warren's party, and whose spectacles gleamed with good humour, rose to his feet and cleared his throat. "pray, gentlemen, silence for sir matthew menhinick," said captain warren, with twinkling eyes. sir matthew was an ex-prime minister of queensland, known to his intimates as merry matt, and to the whole continent as a jolly good fellow. being at brisbane when the news of the wreck came, he instantly decided to join captain warren's rescue party. if he had a weakness for hearing his own voice, what could be expected in a man whose speeches filled volumes of legislative reports, but who was now in his retirement, deprived of these daily opportunities of addressing his fellow men? "gentlemen," he said, beaming on the company; "officers and gentlemen, and able seamen of his majesty's navy, i am a plain, blunt chap, i am, as you all know, and i can't dress up what i've got to say in fine language like the governor-general, but i can't let this occasion pass without saying a word or two about the great, the wonderful, the stupendous achievement of our friend, mr. thesiger smith. (loud cheers.) this is a proud moment in my life. i remember when i was a nipper in london, before any of you were born except our friend the doctor, i saw in a place called cremorne gardens a silly fellow of a frenchman--present company excepted--try to fly with wings strapped to his arms. of course he came a cropper and broke his back. i remember my dear old mother shaking her head and telling over to me that fine bit of poetry: cows and horses walk on four legs, little children walk on two legs; fishes swim in water clear, birds fly high into the air; and impressing on me that boys mustn't be little beasts, nor try to be fishes, or birds, or anything else they wasn't meant to be. but now, gentlemen, in this wonderful twentieth century, them old doctrines are as dead as queen anne. we've got submarines diving and roving along in the depths of the sea; we've got aeroplanes that fly up into the air; and we've got men, gentlemen, men of grit and backbone, men of courage and determination, that 'fear no foe in shining armour,' men like our friend mr. smith (roars of applause), who brave the perils of the deep and the chance of the empyrean, who take their lives in their hands and think nothing of it. some croakers will tell you the old country is going to the dogs. don't you believe it. ("we won't.") i don't believe she ever will go to the dogs while she's got left a man of the old, honourable, and respected name of smith. (laughter and cheers.) "mr. underhill just now referred in feeling terms to the personal results of mr. smith's enterprise. but for him, some of our number would by this time have crossed the bourne whence no traveller returns. i need not speak of the joy and pride that must have filled a father's and a brother's breast--" (here the speaker blew his nose and wiped a mist from his spectacles. then he resumed.) "as i was saying, our friend has accomplished a wonderful feat, gentlemen. he has come twelve thousand miles in three days and a half. that's a thing to be proud of. he tells me he's going to get back in another three days and a half. i am sure i speak for you all when i say 'good luck to him!' ("hear! hear!") think what it means, gentlemen. it means going round the world in a week. when i was last in england i met a man at a hotel who kept me up till three in the morning proving to me that the earth is flat. i'll give mr. smith his address, and when he gets home he can go and prove to him that _he's_ a flat. (laughter.) you remember in a play of shakespeare there's a little chap that says he'll put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes. his name was puck, gentlemen. mr. smith won't do it quite so quick--not this journey, at any rate--but who knows what these young scientific fellows will be a-doing of next? mr. smith's aeroplane hasn't got a name, i believe, but he'd better christen it puck, which is the same as the indian word _pukka_, and means 'jolly good.'" "now i'm not going to make a speech, so i'll just conclude these few remarks by wishing mr. smith a safe journey home, quick promotion, and a seat in the house of lords. he's used to going up, and that's about as far up as he can go." when the cheering had ceased, the company crowded about the aeroplane, and gazed at it as if by sheer hard staring they might discover the secret of its speed. while rodier explained its working to some of them, smith sat with the officers, his father and brother, and sir matthew, discussing the immediate future. "you must be very tired," said his father. "don't you think you have better give up the idea of returning at once, and come with us? the admiralty will stretch a point if we cable an explanation." "on no account, father," replied smith. "i am going back. i had the good luck to get here in time. that's all right so far. but after coming through the air i couldn't stand a slow voyage back; it would be like riding in a growler after a taxi. besides, i confess i am out to make a record. i can't make a name in geology, but why shouldn't i go down to posterity as the first man to fly round the world?" "in seven days, as sir matthew remarked," added tom. "it will be rather a feather in your cap, old fellow, if you can do it." "oh, i'll do it, if only my engine holds out. by the way, roddy ought to be cleaning up in preparation for starting. i hope he won't be demoralized by this ovation. roddy," he called, "it's time to clean up." "all right, mister," replied the french man. "i'll take the shine out of her." "roddy's english is not perfectly accurate," said smith, laughing; "but he's exactness itself in his work." he pulled out his watch. "it's exactly eighty-one hours since i left london; i've got eighty-seven to get back in." "how will you go?" asked underhill. "first to samoa, then honolulu, then 'frisco, and straight across the states." "you'll have to beware of interviewers," said tom. "you may be sure the newspaper men have got wind of you by this time." "i don't know. barracombe wouldn't say anything; i don't think johnson in constantinople would, and--" "my dear fellow, don't make any mistake," said captain warren. "nobody ever does say anything, but the newspaper men somehow or other know what you think about when you're abed and asleep." "they must all be irishmen, then." "or americans. i wouldn't mind betting that they are getting up a reception for you at 'frisco--" "but they don't know i'm going there." "no matter; the word has gone out to keep a watch for you, and every town in the states will be on the _qui vive_. i'm rather sorry for you when you come down for petrol; you won't get off so easily as you did on the way out." "of course you won't," said tom. "i suppose you'll wire ahead for petrol to be held ready for you? that will give you away." "no, i shall chance it. i can get petrol in any town in the states, and i won't risk delay by announcing myself." "you had better have a good sleep before you start," said underhill. "what time do you want to go?" "not later than midnight." "well, you've got nearly four hours. your man had better sleep, too. i'll see to the engine." "roddy won't allow that. i see that he has got help. he'll be finished in half-an-hour. by all means put him to bed then, if you'll promise to wake us both in good time." "i'll do that. i won't spoil sport. go to the further end of the camp, and i'll tuck you up in the tarpaulin, put some food on board, and see that everything is shipshape." smith was glad enough to avail himself of the opportunity of three or four hours' continuous sleep on land. rodier showed more reluctance, declaring that he was as fit as a fiddle; but captain warren bore him away from the crowd of admirers, and stood over him until he, like his master, was sleeping soundly. a quarter of an hour before midnight the two airmen were awakened. farewells were said, hands were shaken all round, every one wish them good luck, and precisely at twelve they took their seats and set forth on the two thousand miles flight to samoa. chapter xv herr schwankmacher's cabbages a little before twelve on monday, herr rudolph schwankmacher, one of the most respected residents of apia, capital of samoa, was reclining under the shade of a plantain in his garden beyond the promontory of mulinuu, enjoying the conversation of a friend and the refreshing bitterness of a bottle of light lager beer. the garden rose a few feet above the level of the ground in front of it, and afforded an excellent view over the sea. hither herr schwankmacher was wont to retire for a brief spell of rest and meditation in the heat of the day, and on this occasion he had been accompanied by a compatriot newly arrived from germany, to whom he was expatiating on the pleasures of colonial life in general, and in particular on the delights of rearing cabbages in so rich and prolific a soil. "yes," he said, "you will find no cabbages like these in germany. you see them. they are grown from seed. it is not a month since i put the seed in the ground, and the plants are already flourishing. they will soon be full-grown, and then i shall pickle them, and have for every day in the year a dish that will remind me as i eat it of the days of my youth in the dear homeland. ach! the homeland; it is very dear. i love it, although i would not return to it for the world. this is the happy land, my friend. it is a fairland. it is a beautiful land for copra, flowers, and cabbages. i am content." he tossed off a glass of beer and lay back on the green sward, puffing at a pipe and gazing benignly up into the broad-leaved canopy that sheltered him from the midday sun. for some time he reclined thus, dropping a word now and then to his companion, answering his questions, but always returning to the cabbages. as they lay in this placidity and ease they were suddenly aware of a slight buzzing in the air. herr schwankmacher raised himself on his elbow, and looked around for the insect that had dared to intrude into this peaceful cabbage-patch. there was no insect in sight of such a size as to account for the deep-toned hum, which was growing louder moment by moment. "this is strange," he said. "i never heard such a noise before." "i have heard it," said his friend. "i have heard it very close. the last time was when count zeppelin's airship came down in the teutoberger wald. i was there." "so; but count zeppelin would not be here in samoa. we have no airships here. the newspapers say that there is much activity in europe, especially among the french and english, in this new pastime, but i dare say the greater part of what they say is lies. but really, the noise is becoming very great; i am unable to explain it." both men were now sitting erect, looking to right, to left, seawards, landwards, towards the hills. all at once the sound ceased, a shadow was cast upon them, and before they could realize the situation a strange, uncouth object glided from behind them over the plantains, and came to rest in the centre of the cabbage-patch. herr schwankmacher sprang to his feet with a nimbleness surprising in a man of his size, and rushed forward, snorting with rage and indignation. his friend followed, neither indignant nor enraged, but very much interested in the occurrence. his intelligent eyes gleamed behind his glasses; he had himself experienced aerial adventures. it chanced that rodier was the first to step out of the machine. as the burly, bearded, white-clad figure of herr schwankmacher cantered heavily toward him, he lifted his cap, and with that sunny smile which had accompanied him through life, he said-- "monsieur, je vous fais mille excuses. voudriez-vou bien me dire ou l'on puisse obtenir de la pétrole." "sapperment!" cried the infuriated german. "es ist ein kriechender franzose!" it was well that rodier did not understand him, or, never having been called a sneaking frenchman before, he would certainly have fallen tooth and nail on the offender, though in respect of bulk the german would have made two of him. fortunately for the keeping of peace, he was quite ignorant of the german tongue, and when herr schwankmacher proceeded to shake his pipe at him, and deliver his opinion of trespassers in general and french trespassers in particular, with intermittent allusions to cabbages, rodier only listened with the same gentle smile and deprecating movements of his grimy hands. smith, joining him, addressed herr schwankmacher in english, but his intervention seemed only to add fuel to the flames. the german knew no english; neither smith nor rodier knew german; and the affair promised to come to a deadlock. but here a peacemaker stepped in. herr schwankmacher's friend, who appeared to be greatly amused, stepped forward with a noticeable limp. "gentlemen, gentlemen, zis is not business. permit me, sir," he said to smith. he took herr schwankmacher by the arm, and spoke a few words to him; upon which the german consented to be silent and in dudgeon resumed his pipe. "my friend, sir," the second man went on, "is vat you call chippy because you come plomp into his bed of cabbage, very fine vegetable, vich remind him of his youthful days in ze ever-to-beloved homeland." "oh, well," said smith, "assure him that i am very sorry. i didn't mean to hurt his cabbages, and i'll pay for any damage that i've done." "was sagt er?" said herr schwankmacher suspiciously. his friend translated smith's words. schwankmacher grunted. "the fact is," continued smith, "we've run short of petrol, and i had to come down. i hoped to make apia; that is it, yonder, i suppose?" "zat is so. you vant petrol. zen i introduce you to excellent firma vat supply ze commandant. it is good petrol; i know it, for ze firma receive large consignments of it from ze highly respectable firma i haf ze honour to represent--schlagintwert gesellschaft of düsseldorf. sir, viz compliments." he took from a capacious pocket a bulky book in a red paper wrapper. "zis is our price list, sir, revise and correct. ve can supply anyzink vatefer, and i shall esteem it great favour to haf ze opportunity to quote for petrol, machine oil, planes, stays, plugs, propellers, levers, air-bags, goggles, overalls, accumulators--" "thanks, but at present i want nothing but petrol and machine oil, and i must have them at once, as i have to start for honolulu without delay." "for honolulu, sir?" "yes." "across ze sea?" "there's no other way, is there?" "sree sousand miles?" "rather less, isn't it?" "ach! zis knocks me into a--vat you call it?--into a billycock." he turned to herr schwankmacher, who had just refilled his pipe, and repeated to him the astounding announcement. the german scoffed. seeing that there was no help for it if he wished to get away in a reasonable time, smith explained that he was halfway on a voyage round the world, and had not a minute to spare. "ach! business are business. zat is vat take me round ze world. permit me, sir." he handed smith a large business card, inscribed with the name "hildebrand schwab," and the address of his firm in düsseldorf. "ve shall lose no time, sir," he added. "zis is ze most amazing zink zat efer haf i heard, and i esteem it great honour to haf ze opportunity to introduce you to ze excellent firma vat supply you viz petrol for your so vonderful machine. vun minute until i tell herr schwankmacher, zen ve go doublequick." herr schwankmacher's vexation and incredulity vanished together when his friend told him the facts of the case. he was a good fellow at bottom, and now that he knew that the aeroplane's descent in his garden was purely accidental, he was ready to do all in his power to speed the parting guest. in a few minutes smith was hurrying along the shore road with a german on either side, at his left the surf roaring on the fringe of coral reef, at his right a screen of tufted palms and plantations running up the lower slopes of the mountains. he soon came to a collection of drinking-bars and stores, all bearing german names. herr schwankmacher, now transformed into a cordial host, invited him to drink a bottle of lager with him at one of the bars, but he excused himself and followed schwab into a large store where every sort of requisite for machines was kept in stock. the purchase of petrol proved to be a lengthy transaction, for schwab was impelled to tell the story to the store-keeper, he repeated it to his clerks, they ran out to tell the neighbours, and the place was soon thronged with germans--merchants, clerks, sailors, stokers--all eager to see the airman who was flying round the world. the store was filled with smoke and gutturals. the purchase being at last concluded, the cans were rolled to a motor lorry which lumbered along in the direction of mulinuu like a triumphal car at the head of a procession. first came smith with schwankmacher on his right and schwab on his left; then a crowd of the german population, in which wealthy merchants found themselves neighbours to grimy stokers, and youthful clerks to the inevitable uniforms; the tail was formed of swarthy samoans, men and women, skipping boys and laughing girls with flowers in their hair. rodier had cleaned the engine, and was eating his dinner among the cabbages. he favoured the crowd with a pleasant smile, although some were germans, and because others were pretty. the petrol was placed on board and the tank filled, smith, with long-suffering patience, replying to the questions of the english-speaking spectators. all was at last ready for the start; schwab, who alone of the company had knowledge of the conditions, made himself useful in clearing the course; and schwankmacher positively declined to accept payment for the plants which had been crushed under the aeroplane, and those which were trampled by the spectators' feet. when the airmen were in their places, schwab limped up. "permit me to shake hands viz ze first circumnavigator of ze sky," he said with effusion, "and to remind you zat my firma schlagintwert vill be most happy to supply you viz anyzink vatefer zat you need, and in vatefer region of ze globe you may be, on receipt of postcard, telegram, cable, or marconigram. hoch!" his cheer was taken up by the crowd. the machine moved forward. herr schwankmacher, stepping back, fell into the arms of a grinning stoker, and a little native boy, shrieking with fright, ran head-first into the corpulent frame of a merchant who was more stable in his copra business than in his legs. the aeroplane flew up; the crowd watched its ascension like adoring worshippers of some sky deity; and in three minutes it was a mere speck in the cloudless blue. chapter xvi a stop-press message mr. john mcmurtrie, editor of the _toronto sphere_, a capable journalist and a man of many friends, strolled into his office about three o'clock one wednesday afternoon. his first extra edition was due at four, and it may seem that he had allowed himself a very short time for dealing with fresh items of news that had come to hand since noon; but he had an excellent assistant, who took a real interest in his work, so that there was no need for the editor to hurry his luncheon or the ensuing cigar. "well, daniels," he said genially, as he entered his assistant's room. he sat across a corner of the table, exhibiting a well-developed calf neatly covered with golfing hose. "is there anything fresh and frothy on the tape?" "not much. a wire from 'frisco about those flying men." "you don't say so?" "here it is." he handed the slip to his chief, who ran his eye over the message. the words employed were few, but a journalist of mcmurtrie's experience instinctively covered the bare bones with a respectable integument, and clothed this with a quite picturesque raiment by force of the more ornamental parts of speech. the substance of what he read was as follows: a cable message had reached san francisco from honolulu in the afternoon of the previous day, announcing that an aeroplane had alighted there about three o'clock that morning, the owner, a lieutenant thistleton (so it was corrupted) smith declaring that he had come from samoa in sixteen hours, and was proceeding to san francisco. he had left three hours later, having waited only to take in a stock of petrol. on receipt of this message the editor of every newspaper in the city had arranged for a relay of reporters to be up all night and watch for the arrival of this extraordinary machine. shortly after midnight the hum of the propellers was heard over golden gate, and a light in the sky indicating the course of the aeroplane, a dozen journalists, in motor-cars, rushed after it, but were hopelessly out-distanced. they discovered it on the outskirts of the city. the airmen had already landed. the reporter who was first in the race seized upon lieutenant smith, and learning that he had only alighted to obtain more petrol, rushed him back to the city in his car. his comrades and competitors, on arriving, sought to interview the second man, whose name they had not been able to ascertain; but he was very uncommunicative, being occupied in cleaning the engine. lieutenant smith was back with petrol in twenty minutes; in half-an-hour he was again on his way. this extreme haste caused great disappointment to the airmen and civic dignitaries of the city, they having risen from their beds on hearing of his arrival to honour lieutenant smith with a reception. when they reached the spot where he had descended, he had been gone some ten minutes. in the race to meet him, one of the motor-cars collided with an electric-light standard and was overturned, its occupant, mr. aeneas t. muckleridge, being carried to hospital in a critical condition. several san francisco newspapers had published interviews with lieutenant smith, one of them ten columns long. mr. mcmurtrie chuckled as he read this dispatch in the shorthand of the news agency. "bedad, 'tis worth a special editorial, daniels. but why didn't we get it before, man? it ought to have been in time for the morning papers." "you remember, sir, there's been something wrong with the line to-day through the storm." "so there has, indeed. well, take out that stuff about the new british tariff, and send davis in to me." he went into his room, sat back in his chair, pushed up his golfing cap, and smiled as he meditated the periods of his editorial. in a few moments a thin, ragged-headed youth entered with an air of haste and terror. he carried a paper-block, which he set on his knee, looking anxiously at the editor. mr. mcmurtrie began to dictate, the stenographer's pencil flying over the paper as he sought to overtake the rapid utterance of his chief. the article, as it appeared on the second page of the _sphere_ an hour later, ran as follows: hocus pocus a hoax, or as our merry ancestors would have called it, a flam, is usually the most ephemeral and evanescent of human devices. like a boy's soap bubble, it glitters for a brief moment in iridescent rotundity, then ceases to be even a film of air. it is unsubstantial as the tail of halley's comet. on rare occasions, it is true, its existence is prolonged; many worthy people are beguiled; and some enthusiasts are so effectually hoodwinked as to persist in their delusion, and even to form societies for its propagation. but mankind at large is sufficiently sane to avoid a fall into this abyss of the absurd, and, having paid its tribute of laughter, goes its way without being a cent the worse. san francisco appears to be the latest victim of the great aviation hoax, and we shall watch the progressive stages of its disillusionment with sympathetic interest, or the development of its newest cult with sincere commiseration. like many other phenomena, good and bad, this gigantic flam, it will be remembered, took its rise in the east. its genesis was reported in constantinople nearly a week ago: then at intervals we learnt that these mysterious airmen, one of whom with artful artlessness had adopted the plain, respectable, and specious name of smith, had manifested themselves at karachi, penang, and port darwin successively. the curtain then dropped, and the world waited with suspense for the opening of the next act, though there were some who suspected that the performers had slipped away with the cash-box during the interval, and would never be heard of again. however, the curtain has at last rung up at the golden city of the west, and it is certainly a mark of the ingenuity of the concocters of the hoax that they allowed at least twenty-four hours for the passage of the pacific. in another column we give an account of a visit to san francisco, in the small hours of this morning, from which it will be seen that the city fathers narrowly escaped making themselves ridiculous, the flying men having wisely disappeared before the municipal deputation, hastily summoned from their beds, had time to make the indispensable changes in their attire. it need scarcely be hinted that there are many accomplished aviators in san francisco who would take a jovial pleasure in lending themselves to this amusing hoax, if only for the chance of seeing their most reverend seniors in pyjamas. a glance at the itinerary of the alleged world tourists, coupled with a comparison of dates, will show how impossible it is for them to have covered the stages of their tour in the time claimed. indeed, it is almost an insult to our readers' intelligence even to suggest this comparison. the record put up by blakeney in his new york-chicago flight was miles per hour for six consecutive hours. if the flying men who are now asserted to have touched at san francisco are the same as were reported by the constantinople correspondent of the london _times_ on friday last, a simple calculation will show that they must have flown for many days at a time at twice blakeney's speed, with the briefest intervals for food and rest. it is not yet claimed that the alleged smith and his anonymous companion have discovered a means of dispensing with sleep, or that they are content, like the fabulous chameleon, to live on air. our children may live to witness such developments in the science of aviation as may render possible an aerial journey of this length and celerity; but so sudden an augmentation of the speed and endurance of the aeroplane, to say nothing of the more delicate mechanism of the human frame, demands a more authentic confirmation of the midnight impressions of the san francisco journalists than has yet come to hand. in short, we do not believe a word of it, and our speculation at the moment is, what brand of soap or tinned meat, what new machine oil, or panacea for human ills, these ingeniously arranged manifestations are intended to boom. "what do you think of that, davis?" asked mr. mcmurtrie at the end of six minutes' rapid dictation. it was his pardonable weakness to claim the admiration of his subordinates. "bully, sir," replied the shorthand-writer timidly. as a matter of fact, he thought nothing at all, his whole attention having been so completely absorbed by his task of making dots and curves and dashes as to leave no portion of his brain available for receiving mental impressions. but the editor was satisfied. telling the youth to transcribe his notes and send the flimsies page by page as completed to the printer, he took up his golf sticks, passed through the outer office, instructing his assistant to read the proof, and departed to his recreation. there is an excellent golf course on the scarborough bluffs, the rugged, seamed, and fissured cliffs that form the northern shore of lake ontario, near toronto. boarding a trolley-car, mr. mcmurtrie soon reached the club-house, where he found his friend harry cleave already awaiting him. "hullo, mac. day's work done?" was mr. cleave's salutation. "indeed it is. the best day's work i have done for a good while." "then you are pitching into somebody or something, that's certain. what is it this time?" "bubbles, my boy. those flying-men are after spinning again. some of the 'frisco men will have a pain within side of 'em when they read how i have touched 'em up. now then, cleave, we've got the course to ourselves. i'm sure i can give you half a stroke and a beating. 'tis your honour." the consciousness of having touched up the 'frisco men seemed to have a salutary influence on mr. mcmurtrie's play. he was in the top of form, won the first two holes, and was in the act of lifting his club to drive off from the tee of number three, when a faint buzzing sound from the direction of the lake caused him to suspend the stroke and glance over the placid blue water. far away in the sky he saw a dark speck about the size of a swallow, which, however, grew with extraordinary rapidity, and in a few moments declared itself to be an aeroplane containing two men. "be jabers!" quoth mr. mcmurtrie, resting his club on the ground and watching the flying machine with eyes in which might have been discerned a shade of misgiving. it was, perhaps, thirty seconds from the time when he first caught sight of it that the aeroplane came perpendicularly above his head, the whirring ceased, and the machine descended with graceful swoop upon the well-cropt turf within fifty yards of the spot where the two golfers stood. as soon as it alighted, mr. mcmurtrie handed his sticks to the caddie, and, as one released from a spell, hurried to meet the man who had just stepped out of the car. "that's toronto over yonder?" said smith without ceremony. "indeed it is," replied mcmurtrie, taking stock of the dirty dishevelled figure. "your name's not smith?" "indeed it is!" "holy moses!" ejaculated mcmurtrie, and, to smith's amazement, he turned his back and sprinted at the speed of a race-horse towards the club-house a few hundred yards away. he rushed to the telephone box, rang up his office, and, catching at his breath, waited with feverish eagerness for the answer to his call. "you there, daniels? i'm mcmurtrie. for any sake stop press, cancel that leader, put back the tariff, votes for women, anything, only stop it.... what!... edition off the machine!... don't let a copy leave the office.... what!... first deliveries made!... recall 'em, or the paper's ruined. smith's here!... no, this-something smith ... no, you ass, the naval lieutenant, he flying man: don't you understand!... understand!... are you there?... get out a special edition at once.... where's davis? bring him to the 'phone to take a note.... that you, davis? take this down.... 'as we go to press we have the best of evidence for the statement that the marvellous world-flight of that intrepid young airman, lieutenant thistledown smith, of the british navy, is a sober fact, and not, as our sceptical wiseacres have asserted, an ingeniously concocted hoax. lieutenant smith descended at : this afternoon on the scarborough bluffs, having accomplished the enormous distance from san francisco without a stop, in the marvellous time of twelve hours, twenty-one minutes, and fourteen seconds. in our final edition, which will be accelerated, we shall publish an interview with lieutenant smith, with exclusive particulars of his remarkable voyage and his romantic career." "i'm not so sure of that," said smith dryly. he had entered with mr. cleave, and heard the frenzied editor's concluding sentences. "to begin with, i stopped at st. paul, and was lucky enough to escape without attracting any attention. i shouldn't have been here but for the storm." "for goodness' sake, lieutenant, don't tell anybody that. a little stop at st. paul isn't worth making a fuss about. you'll come along into the city with me, and we will get a few of the boys together and give you a topping dinner." "i'd rather be hanged," said smith. "the fact is, i only came down to get enough petrol on board to take me across the atlantic. you can tell me where to get what i want?" "indeed i can. i tell you what. i'll 'phone for the petrol--how much do you want?--and get it out here in no time. you won't mind me ringing up a few particular friends, and inviting them out to see you?" "please don't do anything of the kind. i'm very tired; i'm not presentable; and i've no time to spare." "sure you wouldn't be after declining to answer a question or two--to be worked up into an interview, you know?" "really, i've nothing to tell. you appear to know a good deal about me already, and i'm sure your imagination can supply the rest." "but there's a gap, lieutenant. we can't account for you between port darwin and honolulu." "we're wasting time," said smith despairingly. "be so good as to order up the petrol; then i'll give you a few headings." mcmurtrie was delighted. he gave the order to a firm in the city, requesting that the petrol should be sent out by motor at once. then he took smith and cleave into the luncheon-room, which they had to themselves, ordered a meal for smith, and drinks for cleave and himself, and while smith was eating, filled his note-book with jottings, which he foretold would sell out two editions of his paper like winking. rodier, meanwhile, was cleaning the engine. to execute an order smartly is one of the first of business virtues. smith was satisfied that the virtue was appreciated in toronto: the petrol arrived, as mcmurtrie assured him, in the shortest possible time. unluckily the toronto men of business had their share of humanity's common failing--if it is a failing--curiosity. mcmurtrie, with smith at his elbow, had scrupulously refrained from explaining what the petrol was wanted for; his assistant, daniels, had been too busy seeing the special edition to press to run about gossiping; and davis, the shorthand-writer, the third in the secret, had become so mechanical that nothing stirred emotion within him; he wrote of murders, assassinations, political convulsions, rooseveltian exploits, diplomatic indiscretions, everything but football matches, with the same pencil and the same cold, inhuman precision. but it happened that one of the compositors in the _sphere_ printing office, who took a lively interest in the affairs of his fellow mortals, had a bet with a friend in the plumbing line about this very matter of the mysterious flying men. no sooner had he set up his portion of the editor's note than he begged leave of absence for half-an-hour from the overseer, whipped off his apron, and rushed off to demand his winnings before the loser had time to spend them in the _blue lion_ on the way home from work. they repaired, nevertheless, to the _blue lion_ to settle their account; they told the news to the barman, who passed it to the landlord; a publisher's clerk heard it, and repeated it to the manager; the manager acquainted the head of the firm as he went out to tea; the publisher mentioned it in an off-hand way to the man next him at the café; and--to roll the snowball no further--half toronto was in possession of the news before the _sphere_ appeared on the streets. the result was a general exodus in the direction of the scarborough bluffs. on foot, on bicycles, in cabs, motor-cars, trolley-cars, drays, and all kinds of vehicles, every one who had a tincture of sporting spirit set off to see two men and a structure of metal and canvas--quite ordinary persons and things, but representing a deed and an idea. thus it happened that close behind the dray conveying the petrol came a long procession, the sound of whose coming announced it from afar. "'tis the way of us in toronto," said mcmurtrie soothingly, when smith vented his annoyance. the crowd invaded the club-grounds, to the horror of the green-keepers, and rolled past the club-house to the aeroplane, where rodier, having finished cleaning, was regaling himself with an excellent repast sent out to him by mr. mcmurtrie. cheers for lieutenant smith arose; rodier smiled and bowed, not ceasing to ply his knife and fork until a daring youth put his foot upon the aeroplane. then rodier dropped knife and fork, and rushed like a cat at the intruder. the frenchiness of his language apprised the spectators that they were on the wrong scent, and they demanded to know where lieutenant smith was. knowing smith's dislike of demonstrations, rodier was about to point lugubriously to the edge of the cliff, when some one shouted "here he is!" and the mob flocked towards the club-house, from which smith had just emerged. rodier seized the opportunity to finish his meal, and direct the operations of the men who had brought the petrol. smith had not found himself in so large a crowd of english-speaking people since he had left london. the early morning enthusiasm of the san francisco journalists was hard to bear, but the afternoon enthusiasm of toronto was terrible. hundreds of young fellows wanted to hoist him to their shoulders; dozens of opulent citizens perspired to carry him to the city in their cars; some very young ladies panted to kiss him; and a score of journalists buzzed about him, but upon them mcmurtrie smiled with a look of conscious superiority. smith whispered to him. the editor nodded. "gentlemen!" he shouted, holding up his hand. "silence!... hear, hear!... s-s-sh!... don't make such a row!... same to you!... let's hear what jack mcmurtrie has got to say." thus the babel was roared down. "ladies and gentlemen," said mcmurtrie; "mr. smith--" "three cheers for smith!" shouted some one; horns blurted; from the edge of the crowd the first notes of "for he's a jolly good fellow" were heard, and they sang it through twice, so that those who had missed the beginning should not be hurt in their feelings. "ladies and gentlemen," began mcmurtrie again, when he could make his voice heard, "mr. smith, who is rather hoarse from constant exposure to the night air, asks me to thank you for the warmth of your reception. he has been good enough to give me full particulars of his wonderful journey, which you will find in the final edition of the _sphere_. as i've no doubt at all that you are anxious to have the chance of seeing mr. smith performing the evolutions which up to this time have been witnessed by next to nobody but the stars and the flying fishes, he has consented, at my request, to give a demonstration, provided that you'll allow him a clear run, and don't be accessory to your own manslaughter." this announcement was greeted with loud cheers. the crowd fell back, allowing smith a free course to the aeroplane. "bedad," said mcmurtrie; "i wouldn't wonder but they tear me to pieces before i get safe home. but i'll skip into a motor-car as soon as you are started. now, is there anything i can do for you before you go?" "only send two cables for me; one to my sister: here's the address; say simply 'all well.' the other to barracombe, mincing lane, london, asking him to meet me at home at eleven p.m., to-morrow. you won't forget?" "i will not. but you're a cool hand, to be sure." a space was cleared; the aeroplane ran off, soared aloft, and for a few seconds circled over the heads of the spectators. then a voice came to them from the air, not so much like longfellow's falling star as an emission from a gramaphone. "good-bye, friends. thanks for your kind reception. sorry i can't stay any longer; but i've got to be in portsmouth, england within twenty-four hours. good-bye." the aeroplane wheeled eastward, and shot forward at a speed that made the onlookers gasp. when it had disappeared, they became suddenly alive to the suspicion that jack mcmurtrie had practised a ruse on them. they gave a yell and looked round for him. a motor-car was making at forty miles an hour for toronto. chapter xvii a midnight vigil mr. william barracombe was the most punctual of men. he entered his office in mincing lane precisely at ten o'clock on thursday morning. his letters had already been sorted and arranged in two neat piles on his desk. topmost on one of them was a cablegram from toronto: "meet me home eleven p.m. smith." he never admitted that anything would surprise him, and in fact he showed no sign of excitement, but looked through his correspondence methodically, distributing the papers among several baskets to be dealt with by respective members of his staff, or by himself. this done, he rang for the office boy, ordered him to remove the baskets, and then took up the cablegram again. "by jove!" he said to himself. he reached down his a b c and looked out a train for cosham. "i may as well go down to dinner," he thought. his next proceeding was to telephone to his chambers instructing his man to meet him at waterloo with his suit-case. then he wrote a telegram to mrs. smith announcing that he would dine with her that evening. thereupon he was ready to tackle the business problems which would absorb his attention until five o'clock. on arriving at cosham park he was taken to the study, where kate smith was awaiting him. "you have heard from charley?" she said anxiously, after shaking hands. "yes. have you?" "he wired 'all well.' he is very economical. all his messages have been just those two words, except yesterday's from honolulu. that was 'father safe.'" "that's magnificent. he didn't tell me that, the rascal. like you, i have nothing before but 'all well.'" "do tell me what he wired you this time. i was afraid when we got your telegram that something had happened." "not a bit of it. he expects to be here at eleven." "how delightful! i am quite proud of him, really. you can come and see mother now. i wanted to speak to you first because she knows nothing about charley's journey. i thought it best to keep it from her until i knew about father, and having kept it so long i decided to leave it for charley to tell himself. i don't know whether i can manage it. i'm so excited i could scream." "don't mind me. ah! how d'ye do, mrs. smith?" the lady had just entered. "you'll forgive my presumption?" "not at all--that is, an old friend like you doesn't presume, mr. barracombe. have you heard from charley lately?" "a word or two. he's coming home to-night. he asked me to meet him here." "how vexing! i mean, i wish i had known before; i can tell you what i couldn't tell a stranger: we've fish for only three. but i am glad the dear boy will have a few hours at home before he rejoins his ship. it was very annoying that his leave should be spoilt. i am sure his captain works him too hard." "i don't fancy he'll consider his leave spoilt. but don't be concerned about the fish; he won't be home till eleven." "my bed-time is ten; i haven't made an exception for years; but i shall certainly sit up for him; if you'll play cribbage with me to keep me awake. we dine at eight. you know your room?" a servant entered. "please, m'm, there's a man asking for mr. charley." "who is he, betts?" "a stranger to me, m'm. his name is barton, and he's a farmer sort of man." "did you tell him that mr. charley is not at home?" "yes, m'm. he said he'd wait." "tell him that mr. charley will not be in till eleven. he had better call again." the servant returned in a minute or two. "please, m'm, the man says he don't mind waiting. he has come miles special to see mr. charley, and he says he won't be put off. he seems a bit put out, m'm." "i'll go and see him, mother," said kate. "it may be important." "perhaps mr. barracombe will go with you, my dear. the man may be intoxicated." kate and mr. barracombe proceeded to the hall, where stood a man in rough country garments, his calves encased in brown leather leggins. "you wish to see my brother?" said kate. "i do so, if mr. charles thusidger smith, r.n., be your brother, miss. he give me this card wi's name prented on it, and vowed and declared he'd send me a cheque as soon as he got my bill for the damage he done. 'tis a week come saturday since i sent my bill, and daze me if i've got a cheque or even had any answer. that's not fair dealing; it bean't proper; that's what _i_ say." mr. barracombe's eyes twinkled. he glanced at kate, and said-- "your name is b-b--" "barton, sir; firtop farm, mottisfont." "what is this b-b-bill for d-d-damages you speak of?" "why, sir, 'twas like this. last thursday night as was, i was just a-strippin' off my coat to go to bed when i heard a randy of a noise out-along, and my dogs set up a-barkin', and goin' to look, there was a airyplane had shoved hisself into my hayrick, and a young feller a-splutterin' and hollerin', and usin' all manner of heathen language to my dog. he cooled down arter a bit, when i'd spoke to him pretty straight, axin' who'd pay for the mess he'd made, and he went down-along to village, sayin' he'd take a bed there for hisself and his man, and pay me what was fair. drown me if he wasn't back in half-an-hour, all of a heat, tellin' me in a commandin' way--being an officer by what he said--to pull down my fence and help him hoist that airyplane on to the road. i wouldn't stir a finger till he'd promised faithful to pay, not me; then we worked me and some labourin' men he brought, till we was all of a sweat, and we got the dratted thing out, and off she went, whizzin' and buzzin' in a way i never did see. come mornin' i took a look at things, and there was half my hay not worth a cuss for horse or ass, and thirty feet of fence fit for nowt but firewood. 'send in your bill,' says he, and send it i did, and neither song nor sixpence have i got for it. thinks i, i'll go and see if he give me a right name and address, and a mighty moil 'twas to find the place, and no train back till mornin', and my wife don't know where i be." "very annoying. what's the amount of your b-b-bill?" "here it be. cast your eye on it, sir. i ain't overcharged a penny." he handed mr. barracombe a soiled paper folded many times--"to damage to hay, repairing fence, and cleaning up, _£_ _s_ - / _d_." "what's the ha'penny?" asked mr. barracombe. "i never thowt there'd be any question of a ha'penny, drown me if i did. the ha'penny be for the ball of twine we used to get fence straight. i didn't want it set up all crissmacross, mind 'ee, and you have to draw a line same as when you're plantin' 'taties." "well, mr. b-b-barton, i'm sorry mr. smith isn't at home, but the f-fact is he's been for a voyage round the world, and won't be home till eleven." "that's a good 'un. round the world! why, i tell 'ee this was only a se'nnight ago. i seed him myself. he couldn't get a half nor a quarter round the world in the time. my son jock be a sailor, and he don't do it under six months. that won't wash with isaac barton. no, no, if he'll be home at eleven he hain't been round the world. anyway, i'll bide till he comes. i dussn't show my face to home without _£_ _s._ - / _d._, railway fare extry." "if that's the case i'd b-better p-p-pay you myself. mr. smith will settle with me. here's a f-f-five-pound note: that will pay your b-b-bill and your f-fare, and leave something over for a b-bed in the village if you can't get home to-night." "well now, that's handsome, be dazed if it hain't." "just receipt your bill, w-will you? by the b-bye, mr. smith didn't pay you anything on account?" "i won't tell a lie. he did. he give me a pound, but that don't come in the reckonin'. hay was _£_ , wood fifteen shillin', men's time _£_ , beer two shillin', odds and ends five shillin', nails four-pence, twine a ha'penny, makin' _£_ , _s._ - / _d._ i've a-took off _£_ , leavin' _£_ _s_. - / _d._" "very well. here's a s-stamp." the farmer receipted the bill. "thank'ee, sir." he cleared his throat, "if i med make so bold, sir, meanin' no offence--" "what n-now?" "why, sir, speakin' in my simple common way, i never hears a body stutter in his talk but i think of my brother sam and how he cured hisself. he was a terrible bad stutterer in his young days, he was, nearly bustin' hisself tryin' to get it out, poor soul. but a clever parson chap learned him how to cure hisself, and if i med make so bold, i'll tell 'ee how 'twas done." "i shall be d-delighted." "well, this parson chap--ah! he was a clever feller, everywhere except in the pulpit--he said to my brother, 'sam,' says he--he always talked in that homely way--'sam, poor feller, i'll tell 'ee what the bishop told me when i stuttered so bad i couldn't say 'dearly beloved brethren' without bub--bub--bubbing awful. 'say the bub--bub--bub inside yerself,' says he, 'and then you can stutter as long as you like without a soul knowin' it. my brother sam thowt 'a med as well give it a trial, and he did, and bless 'ee, in a week he could talk as straightforward as the prime minister, and no one 'ud ever know what a terrible lot of b's and m's and other plaguey letters he swallered. try it, sir; say 'baby mustn't bother mummy' that way ten times every morning afore breakfast, and 'pepper-pots and mustard plasters' afore goin' to bed, and i lay you'll get over it as quick as my brother sam. good-night, sir and miss, and thank 'ee." "why _do_ you pretend so?" said kate, laughing, when the door was shut. "my dear kate, i have stuttered for pleasure and profit ever since i discovered the efficacy of it at school. when i didn't know my lesson one day i put on a stammer, and my bub--bub--bubbing, as the farmer calls it, made the master so uncomfortable that, ever afterwards, at the first sign of it he passed me over. that's why i'm such a fool to-day." "you're incorrigible. come, it's time to dress for dinner." the time between dinner and eleven passed all too slowly. mrs. smith and barracombe played cribbage; kate was restless, opening a book, laying it down, touching the piano, going to the window and peering out into the dark. "why are you so restless to-night, kate?" asked her mother. "one would think that charley had been away for months instead of a week." "ah, but you see, mother, he hasn't--" "hasn't what--fifteen two, fifteen four--well, kate?" "has never been quite so late home on his last night of leave, has he, mother?" "that is true--one for his nob. i really think they ought to make him a captain, for he seems to be an exceedingly useful officer. he went away last thursday, as i understood, on some business connected with a wreck. i do hope none of the poor men were drowned. i often think of my husband, mr. barracombe, on the other side of the world, going about among those dreadful coral reefs, and i wish he would retire and live safely at home. i could never understand what he finds interesting in bits of stone and things of that sort, but of course he is a very distinguished man." so the good lady prattled on, placidly unconscious of her nearness to the border-line between comedy and tragedy. the clock struck eleven. "thank you, mr. barracombe; i have enjoyed the game," said mrs. smith. "charley will soon be here." "let us go to the door," said kate. "perhaps we shall hear him." "mr. barracombe will go with you, kate; i am a little afraid of the night air. wrap yourself up." the two went to the conservatory door, overlooking the park. the sky was clear, the air was still; not a sound was to be heard. every now and then a broad flash of light fleetingly illuminated the sky; it was no doubt the searchlight at spithead. "i wish he would come," said kate. "it would be terrible if anything went wrong at the very last. how far is it across the atlantic?" "it's three thousand five hundred miles to liverpool from new york, and rather more from toronto; a ticklish journey, with no chance of landing till he gets to ireland." "it makes me shudder to think of him crossing the sea in that frail machine." "people shuddered at the first railway train, speed ten miles an hour; now we grumble at fifty. in a few years we shall have an aerial marathon, with the circumference of the globe for the course." "hark! what is that?" "the rumble of a train," said barracombe, after a moment's silence. "shall we walk down to the sheds? there's a clear view from there, without trees; we could see the aeroplane a long way off, though probably we should hear it first." they went on, remained at the sheds for some minutes, scanning the sky, then retraced their steps. a quarter-past eleven struck. kate grew more and more anxious, and barracombe found it more and more difficult to talk unconcernedly. they returned to the house, and entering through the conservatory, discovered mrs. smith asleep in her chair. barracombe noiselessly put some coal on the fire, and they stole out again. half-past eleven. "don't you think you had better go to bed, kate?" "i couldn't sleep if i did, billy. i couldn't even lie still. oh, how helpless one feels! charley may be drowning, and we don't know it, and can't do anything to help." "pull yourself together, kate. i am sure he is all right. he probably started later than he intended. you may be sure he wouldn't start unless the engine was in thorough good order. let us go in and play patience." "no, no; i must move. let us walk down the road." barracombe was more perturbed than he would admit. it was unlike smith to miscalculate. his telegram was probably sent off at the moment of starting, or even after he had started, from toronto. if the engine had worked at all, it would work at full speed, so that the loss of time on the journey implied either contrary winds, a mistaken course, or a serious mishap. kate was so little in the mood for talking that barracombe in responsive silence could toss the various probabilities about in his mind until he felt a nervous excitability that annoyed him. they walked up and down the silent road. the church clock struck a quarter to twelve. the minutes dragged until it was again heard. a little after twelve they stopped short at the same moment; kate grasped barracombe's arm. "listen!" she said. a faint sound, like the murmur of the wind, but becoming louder with extraordinary rapidity. "oh, billy!" cried the girl. "run; he'll be at the sheds first." she caught his hand and tugged him towards the park gate, a hundred yards distant. "my dear kate!" he protested; "i'm not so young as i was. _let_ him be there first, confound him!" but he ran all the same. the engine was roaring overhead, _fortissimo_; looking up, the two panting runners saw the flashlight. a sudden silence, as when the word _tacet_ in an orchestral score hushes to silence bassoons and horns, drums and cymbals, all the instruments that but a moment before were convulsing the air with myriad waves of sound. "he's gliding!" cried kate, standing breathless at the door of the shed. the machine descended silently and rested on the smooth level sward. kate darted forward. "oh, charley!" she cried; "you've come!" chapter xviii the last lap "rather late, ain't you!" said barracombe, as smith jumped from the aeroplane. "hallo, sis. hallo, old man!" cried smith. "we've done it; seven days, to the minute!" kate flew into his arms: only next day did she discover the ruin of her dress. "i've a voice like a corncake," said smith, disengaging himself. "glad to see you, billy." "you're a wonder! but, god bless me! you look awfully done up. you look positively ill. come up to the house at once; we don't want you crocked." "come on, roddy," said smith hoarsely. "you'll stay with us to-night. leave the machine for once. you see, billy, i have to rejoin at nine to-morrow--to-morrow, i say; i mean this morning. that gives me nine hours, and as i haven't been to bed for a week i want seven good solid hours sleep." "but really, charley, you don't look fit to rejoin," said kate. "your cheeks are dreadfully thin, and your voice is nearly gone." "well, of course, i'm dead tired; feel all to pieces, in fact. but all i want is sleep." "and a medical certificate," put in barracombe. "i've known a fellow get two months' leave for what he called a strained heart. strained it to some purpose, for he got married before his leave was up. we'll get you a certificate--a doctor's, not a parson's." "i don't mind if you do, after i've rejoined; but i must show up without fail at nine a.m. i'm later than i meant to be. got snowed up at st. john's." "you didn't come straight from toronto, then!" "no. didn't care to risk it. besides, it would have meant eighteen hours in the air at a stretch. i don't think roddy and i could have stood that. i took st. john's--in newfoundland, kate--on the way." "but i thought newfoundland was near the north pole." "a common mistake. st. john's is considerably southward of our latitude. but they've had a cold snap there lately, and we came down in a snowdrift and had to be dug out. we had an easy flight across the atlantic; the engine has behaved splendidly all through, thanks to roddy. but i'm glad to be home; by jove, i am!" this conversation passed as they walked up to the house. mrs. smith had been wakened by the noise of the engine, and stood just within the door to welcome her son. she, too, was struck by his haggard appearance, and declared she must send for the doctor. "why, mother, you're not going to coddle me at my age," he said. "you ought to be in bed. off you go: i shall be all right in the morning. i shall have something to tell you then. breakfast at eight sharp, by the way; or i shan't get to portsmouth in time." "very well, my dear. simmons is up, keeping some food warm for you. i will tell him. goodnight." "i've such loads to tell you," said smith, when she had gone; "but i'm afraid it must wait. by the way, kate, i suppose nothing of importance has come for me?" "a few letters, mostly from the people you disappointed, i suspect. i'll fetch them." when she returned, smith immediately noticed a long official envelope in the bundle. he tore it open. "great scott!" he cried. "an order to rejoin on wednesday without fail. that's a nasty whack." "any explanation?" asked barracombe. "not a word. some sudden whimsy of the admiral's, i suppose. have you got yesterday's paper, kate?" "i remember now," cried kate. "how silly of me to forget it! the _implacable_ broke down, and your ship was ordered to replace her." "just my luck!" exclaimed smith gloomily. "last time i was late the ship was going shooting. now i shall miss her altogether when she's at manoeuvres. captain bolitho will put me down as a hopeless rotter." "what nonsense, charley! you had seven days left, and you're not bound to be within call at a moment's notice. i'm very glad the ship has left portsmouth, for now you can't rejoin, and you'll have time to rest." "i'm not so sure, kate," he cried, suddenly sitting up, and scanning the paper she had brought. "where's the fleet? ah! irish coast. i'll rejoin, as sure as i'm alive. you see, i'm due at nine. i'm not physically incapable, and in the aeroplane i can easily do it if i can find the squadron. the _implacable_ was with the blue fleet, operating from bear haven, i see. it's worth trying, anyhow." "magnificent, but absurd," said barracombe. "you won't find them, either." "a fiver that i will." "no, thanks. by the way, you owe me a fiver." "how's that?" "look at this." he handed smith farmer barton's receipted bill, and related what had happened in the evening. smith laughed. "i'd forgotten him; but his bill is no doubt among this batch. to come back to the point. i am serious. i mean to rejoin my ship at nine. to give myself plenty of time i'll start at six. it's now past twelve; i'll set my alarm clock for six. i'm sorry for roddy, i'm afraid, he must clean the engine. d'you mind finding him?--ah! here he is, and simmons with soup. thank you, simmons. sorry to keep you up so late." "i'm glad to see you back safe and sound, sir," said the man respectfully. smith shot a glance at rodier, but the look of surprise on the frenchman's face showed that he, at any rate, had not been talking. kate's expression proved that she was equally surprised. "and i hope the master and mr. tom are as well as could be expected, sir," added simmons. "what do you mean?" "well, sir, i knew the master had met with a accident--" "but i cut the paragraph out of the paper," cried kate. "yes, miss, that's what made me go and buy one. i assure you i haven't said a word to a soul, miss, guessing as you wanted it kep' from the mistress, and you can't trust female maids." "but how did you know i had gone out to the solomons?" asked smith. "'twas a bit in the _times_ first put me on the scent, sir, about a sensation in constantinople about two daring and intrepid airmen that came down there sudden-like and went away in a jiff. no names were named, sir, but i guessed it was you and mr. rodier." "johnson had discretion, at any rate," murmured smith. "well!" "next day there was a bit about two airmen coming down at some place in india, sir. putting two and two together--" "i see. no names again?" "no, sir, not till to-night." "to-night, eh?" "yes, sir. there's a bit in the _evening news_ to-night, not strictly true, sir. i've got it here." he drew the paper from his pocket, and pointed to the following paragraph-- the mysterious airmen whose doings have been reported at intervals during the last few days have now appeared at san francisco. one of them is said to be a lieutenant thistleton smith, who, according to our correspondent, explained that he has a bet of £ , with a well-known sporting nobleman that he will circle the globe in a fortnight. the general opinion in san francisco is that these sporadic appearances of airmen in far-distant spots are part of a cleverly devised scheme of world-wide advertisement, engineered by a chicago pork-packing firm who have more than once displayed considerable ingenuity in pushing their products. there was general laughter when smith read this paragraph aloud. rodier alone was solemn. "they think we boom pigs!" he cried indignantly. "pigs themselves." "well, roddy, truth will out," said smith. "i'm sorry to keep you up, by the way, but i shall have to leave at six o'clock. would you mind running down to the shed and--cleaning the engine?" "mon dieu! i do nothing for a week but clean the engine." "yes, poor chap, but you shall have a rest after this. go to bed when you've got things shipshape; i shall go alone; only about four hundred miles this time." "you really mean it, then?" said barracombe. "decidedly. if you knew captain bolitho you would see that there's no help for it." "well, then, the sooner you eat your supper and get between the sheets the better. i'll tuck you up." "tuck in and tuck up. very well." "your bath shall be ready at six, sir," said simmons. a few minutes after six o'clock, smith made his ascent, his departure being witnessed by his sister and barracombe and the whole domestic staff. he flew rapidly over hampshire, dorset, devon; crossed the bristol channel, and made a bee-line for bear haven at the entrance to bantry bay. soon after eight he descried a number of dull grey specks strung like beads on the western horizon. they must be one or other of the opposing fleets, either the reds or the blues; but which? he must go and see. altering his course a point or two, in a few minutes he was running down the line of warships, which were steaming line ahead, apparently in the direction of bear haven. at a glance he recognized the _thunderbolt_, notoriously the lame duck of the reds, lagging three or four miles behind the rest. smith slowed down to quarter speed as he passed the leading ships, and a few blank shots were fired at him for form's sake, for the guns were incapable of an inclination that would be dangerous to him at his height of , feet, even if they were throwing live shell. he drew clear of the squadron, and was about to put his engine at full speed again when an aeroplane shot up from the deck of the flagship and started in pursuit, followed at a short interval by a second aeroplane from a vessel some distance down the line. smith smiled to himself. from what he knew of the service aeroplanes, the _puck_, as he had now named his vessel, was in no danger of being overtaken; but if the airmen of the red fleet wanted a run, he was not the man to baulk them. in a few minutes the pursuers began to close in; he increased the speed to eighty miles; still they gained on him. another notch in the regulator increased his speed to a hundred miles an hour, at which he felt that he should be able to hold his own. he found, however, that one of the aeroplanes was still gaining, and it was not until he had increased his speed another twenty miles that the _puck_ began to draw away. "now to business," smith said to himself. paying no more attention to the pursuers, except by a glance to assure himself that, though hopelessly outstripped, they were still following him, he searched the horizon ahead for signs of the blue fleet. the rugged coast of cork county had been for some time in sight, and as smith was well acquainted with it from experience in former manoeuvres, he was able to steer straight for bear haven as soon as the landmarks were distinguishable. it was more than half-an-hour after sighting the red fleet when he flew over bantry bay to the harbour. except for a number of colliers it was empty. smith had already decided on his course of action if he should find that the fleet had put to sea. he would adopt the tactics that had succeeded so well in ysabel island, searching, not the land this time, but the sea, fanwise, while his fuel lasted. the position of the colliers seemed to indicate that they had only recently been engaged in coaling, so that in all probability the fleet had left that morning and was not far away. probably, too, it was in the open atlantic, and not sheltering in any of the innumerable inlets of the western coast. he steered due west, noticing as he did so that the pursuers were still doggedly on his trail, and had gained considerably while he had been investigating the harbour. he looked at his watch. it was twenty-five minutes to nine. he would reach his ship in time if it were not more than eighty-five miles distant, supposing that it was going in the same direction, or perhaps a hundred and ten if it were coming towards him. rising to the height of , feet, he searched the sea in all directions through his binocular. he noticed with amusement that one of the pursuing aeroplanes had come down on mizzen head; the other was still labouring after him. there were fishing smacks here and there near the coast, looking like moths. far to the left he saw a liner pouring its black smoke into the air; it might have been a cockroach in widow's weeds. and there, far in the west, what is that? smoke, or a cloud? in two minutes there is no longer any doubt; in three minutes the shapes of a squadron of battleships can be clearly seen; in five minutes smith's practised eyes, now that he has descended, can distinguish the _imperturbable_, flying the admiral's flag, among what to a landsman would appear to be a dozen exactly similar vessels. glancing back, he sees that the red scout has changed her course, and is already only a speck in the southern sky. it was precisely ten minutes to nine by smith's watch when the _puck_, literally received with open arms by two-score sturdy tars, alighted on the deck of the _imperturbable_. "come aboard, sir," said smith cheerfully to his captain. "so i see," was the laconic reply. "sorry i was away, sir, when your recall arrived--in the south pacific." "in the--what?" "the south pacific, sir, or thereabouts." "don't you think, mr. smith, you are going a little too far?" said the captain sternly. "well, sir," replied smith naïvely, "it _was_ a goodish distance. but i have managed to get back within my leave. ten minutes to spare, sir." captain bolitho gasped. "do you mean to tell me, seriously, you have been to the south pacific?" "certainly, sir. i left home about midnight last thursday, and got back not quite nine hours ago. went to the solomon islands _viâ_ penang and port darwin, and come home _viâ_ samoa and 'frisco." "but--but--then you have been _round the world_, sir--in _how_ long?" "seven days, sir. my leave expires at nine this morning." mechanically, like a man in a dream, the captain took out his watch. "twenty-five minutes past eight," he said. "you needn't have hurried yourself. you've another half-hour by irish time. perhaps you'd like to fill it up by a trip round ireland," he added dryly. smith smiled. the first lieutenant broke in-- "look-out reports, sir, another aeroplane was sighted behind mr. smith's." the admiral, who had been an amused auditor of the colloquy between captain bolitho and his lieutenant, was a man of intuitions. "there are no aeroplanes on this coast except the two with the reds," he said. "mr. smith, you have now reported yourself for duty. our single aeroplane has broken down; we must impress yours for public service. i will not ask you what you have seen; but you will at once follow the strange aeroplane, and endeavour to find out the position and course of the enemy's fleet." in less than a minute smith was in the air; in ten minutes he had overtaken the red aeroplane, flying high as he approached, and hovering over his late pursuer, who made vain efforts to rise above him. the immense engine power of the _puck_ gave her as great an advantage over her rival in soaring as in horizontal speed. by the rules of the manoeuvres the red aeroplane was out of action as soon as the _puck_ rose vertically above her. wasting no further time, smith continued his course, and in half-an-hour sighted the red squadron, noted its strength and course, and in another half-hour was back on the deck of the _imperturbable_. "i found the enemy, sir, about ninety miles s.s.e., eight battleships and about a dozen scouts. their course was west." the admiral made a rapid calculation. "by jove!" he said, "they will catch pomeroy before we join him. but there's time yet. we can warn pomeroy to meet us twenty miles north-east of the spot previously arranged. i think, captain bolitho, we may perhaps overlook mr. smith's little irregularity in joining if he gives us a full account of his--er--experiences, after dinner to-night." "and the reds, sir?" "before dinner, one or the other of us will be out of action. whether reds or blues, we shall have leisure to hear how mr. smith went round the world in seven days." postscript the following extracts from the press, neatly pasted in kate smith's scrap book, have a certain historical and romantic interest for the persons concerned, directly or indirectly, in the incidents of the foregoing narrative. (_from our own correspondent_.) constantinople, friday. the appearance of an aeroplane this morning caused a considerable sensation. it descended in the old archery ground of the sultans, to the terror of the juvenile population that now uses the ok meidan as a common playground. it contained two passengers, and though no authentic information is obtainable, it is rumored that the daring and intrepid airmen have made a rapid flight from berlin, and are proceeding to persia on a secret mission connected with the bagdad railway. (_from our own correspondent_.) bombay, monday. the natives of the mekran coast are again showing signs of insubordination. the gunboat _penguin_ has just come into harbour, and her commander, captain durward, reports that on saturday he discovered a crowd of baluchis in the act of smuggling arms into an apparently innocent fishing-village. he landed a party of bluejackets half a mile east of the village, and swooped upon it simultaneously with an attack from the sea. the villagers scattered in all directions, but the ring-leaders were captured, together with a large number of rifles and ammunition. the coup reflects the greatest credit on this able and energetic officer. _later_. the craze for aviation has at last broken out in india. two airmen made a sudden appearance at karachi on saturday, and departed after a brief stay for the interior. they are said to be in the employment of the nizam of hyderabad, who is spending vast sums on his latest hobby. brisbane, monday. news has just arrived by wireless from the gunboat _frobisher_, off ysabel island, that the crew of the survey-vessel _albatross_, which was wrecked there a fortnight ago, are safe. the party, it will be remembered, includes the famous geologist, dr. thesiger smith. the message is very brief, and a reference it makes to an aeroplane is thought to be an error.--reuter. singapore, wednesday. the penang correspondent of the _free press_ telegraphs--"the barque _elizabeth_ put in to-day in tow of a steamtug of this port, and reported an extraordinary incident in mid-ocean. she was dismasted a fortnight ago in a cyclone south of the andamans, and while drifting, fire broke out in the forehold, and was kept under with the greatest difficulty. her plight was discovered and reported here by the driver of an aeroplane who was making a flight in the neighbourhood, and the tug was immediately sent to her assistance. conflicting rumours are prevalent as to the identity of the aviator in question; captain bunce, of the _elizabeth_, insists that the airman's name was smith, but his account is rather confused, and the most generally accepted opinion is that he is an officer of the german navy, which has recently adopted the aeroplane for scouting purposes. on no other supposition can his presence so far from land be accounted for. owing to the facts that he arrived in the night of sunday and departed immediately, no trustworthy information is obtainable."--reuter. _(from our own correspondent_.) toronto, wednesday. the later editions of the _sphere_ contain a detailed account of the extraordinary world-flight accomplished by lieutenant thesiger smith of the british navy, which sets at rest the rumours and speculations of the past week. lieutenant smith left london last friday at . a.m. (greenwich time), and arrived here this afternoon, descending on the golf links on scarborough bluffs. i will wire full particulars later. _(from our own correspondent_.) paris, monday. the cross of the legion of honour was to-day presented by the president of the republic to m. laurent rodier, who accompanied your lieutenant thesiger smith last month on his adventurous flight around the world. it is understood that the french government has taken up the remarkable invention due to m. rodier and his english confrère, and has offered m. rodier the headship of a new state aeronautical department. the neglect of genius. to the editor of the _spectator_. sir,--the paragraph in the _times_ of monday relating to the honour awarded to m. rodier, suggests sad reflections to a patriotic englishman. we have not as yet heard that lieutenant smith's wonderful achievement has been in any way recognized by our government. abroad, genius is fostered: here, it is slighted. how long shall such things be?--i am, sir, etc., pro bono publico. [we have repeatedly declared our hatred of protection in every shape and form, so that we shall not be misunderstood when we say that we cordially endorse our correspondent's complaint. if the present government, which in general has our hearty support, devoted as much energy to the cultivation of british genius as it now devotes to the spoon-feeding of british industry, we should have less reason to fear the growing menace of socialism.--ed. _spectator_.] the king has been pleased to confer the honour of i knighthood on lieutenant charles thesiger smith, r.n. thesiger-smith--bunce.--on july th, at st. george's, hanover square, by the rev. canon montague, uncle of the bridegroom, sir charles thesiger smith, captain r.n., elder son of dr. thesiger smith, m.a., f.r.s., to margaret, only daughter of the late john bunce, master mariner. an airman's wedding. an interesting announcement in another column recalls a romance of the air and sea. sir charles thesiger smith, whose famous flight round the world last year has not yet been repeated, was yesterday married to miss margaret bunce, the lady whom he rescued in mid-ocean from a burning vessel, and carried with him to safety. many notable people attended to witness the ceremony, and the presents include a gold scarf-pin in the shape of an aeroplane, the gift of the king. proofreading team. mystery stories for boys lost in the air by roy j. snell contents chapter i who is the major ii the strange landing iii in the midst of the pack iv a modern battle with criminals v an infernal machine vi the race is on vii a strange people viii the walrus hunt ix fighting their way out x to the treasure city xi a battle beneath the arctic moon xii the russian tiger xiii bruce and the bear xiv "bombed" xv the mystery cavern xvi wrecked xvii "so this is the pole" chapter i who is the major? "let's get a breath of fresh air." bruce manning yawned and stretched, then slid off his high stool at the bookkeeping desk. barney menter followed his example. they had been together only a few days, these two, but already they were pals. this was not to be wondered at, for both had been discharged recently from army aviation service--bruce in canada and barney in the united states. each had served his country well. now they were employed in the work of developing the wilds of northern canada near hudson bay. and there are no regions more romantic than this with all its half-gleaned history and its million secrets of wonder, wealth and beauty. as they stood in the doorway, gazing at the forest-lined river and distant bluffs, hearing the clang of steel on steel, as construction work went forward, catching the roar of cataracts in nelson river, and tingling with the keen air of the northern summer, life seemed a new creation, so different was it from the days of war. "what's this?" bruce was looking at a file containing bills-of-lading, a messenger had handed him. "car , c. p. r., consigned to major a. bronson. airplane and supplies." he read it aloud and whistled. barney jumped to snatch it from him. "stand back! give me air," bruce gasped. "an airplane at the present end of the hudson bay railroad! what's doing now? what are they up to? going to quit construction here and use planes the rest of the way? fancy freighting wheat, fish, furs and whale blubber by airplanes!" both lads laughed at the idea. "i don't wish his pilot any bad luck," said barney. "but if he must die by breaking his neck, or something, i hope he does it before he reaches the hudson bay terminus. i'd like to take his place in that big air-bird. say, wouldn't it be glorious!" "you've stolen my thunder," replied bruce, laughing. "i'm taking that job myself." "tell you what! i'll fight you for it. what weapons do you choose? rope-handed spiking hammers or pick-axes?" "let's go down and see if it's here. like as not it's a machine neither of us would risk his neck in; some old junk-pile the government's sold to the chap for a hundred and fifty or so." that this idea was not taken seriously by either was shown by the double-quick at which they went down the line, and over the half-laid tracks to where the accommodation train was standing. thorough inspection of car numbers convinced them that no. c.p.r. had not arrived. "oh, well! perhaps to-morrow she'll be in. then we'll see what we see," yawned bruce, as he turned back toward the roughly-built log shack where work awaited them. "what's that?" bruce, who was in the lead, stopped before the trunk of a scraggly spruce tree. on its barkless trunk a sheet of white paper had been tacked. the two boys read it eagerly: notice! to trappers, hunters, campers and prospectors. $ reward will be paid to any person locating anywhere within the bounds of the canadian northlands at any point north of ° north, a wireless station, operated without license or permit. the notice, signed by the provincial authorities, was enough to quicken their keen minds. "what do you suppose they want to know that for?" asked barney. "the war's over." "perhaps further intrigue by our former enemy. perhaps smugglers. perhaps--well, do your own perhapsing. but say!" bruce exclaimed, "wouldn't it be great to take packs, rifles and mosquito-bar netting and go hunting that fellow in that northern wilderness?" "great sport, all right," grinned barney. "but you'd have about as much chance of finding him as you would of locating german u boat m. by walking the bottom of the atlantic." "that's true, all right," said bruce thoughtfully. "but just think of that wilderness! lakes no white man has seen; rivers no canoe has traveled; mountain tops no human ever looked from! say! i've lived in canada all my life and up to now i've been content to let that wilderness just be wild. but the war came and i guess it shook me out of myself. now that wilderness calls to me, and, the first chance that offers, i'm going to turn explorer. the wireless station offers an excuse, don't you see?" barney grinned. he was a hard-headed, practical yankee boy; the kind who count the cost and appraise the possible results. "if you are talking of hunting, fishing, and a general good time in the woods, then i'm with you; but if you are talking of a search for that wireless, then, i say, give me some speedier way of travel than tramping. give me--" he hesitated, then he blurted out: "give me an airplane." the boys stared at one another as if they had discovered a state secret. then bruce voiced their thoughts: "do you suppose this major what-you-may-call-him is bringing up his plane for some commission like that?" "i don't know," said barney. "but if he is," he said the words slowly, "if he is, then all i've got to say is, that it's mighty important; something affecting the government." "i believe you're right about that," said bruce, "but what it is i haven't the least shadow of a notion. and what complicates it still more is, the major comes from down in the states." "maybe it's something international," suggested barney. "yes," grinned bruce, suddenly awaking from these wild speculations, "and maybe he's just some sort of bloomin' sport coming up here to take moving pictures of caribou herds, or to shoot white whale in hudson bay! guess we better get back to work." "ye'll pardon an old man's foolish questions?" both boys turned at the words. an old man with bent shoulders, sunken chest and trembling hand stood beside them. there was an eager, questioning look in his kindly eyes, as he said in quaint scotch accent: "ye'll noo be goin' to the woods a' soon?" "i don't know," said bruce, in a friendly tone. he was puzzled by the old man's question, having recognized him as a second cook for the steel-laying gang. "fer if ye be," continued the man, "ye's be keepin' a lookout fer timmie noo, wouldn't ye though?" "who's timmie?" asked bruce. "timmie? hae ye never hearn o' timmie? timmie; the boy it was, seventeen he was then. but 'twas twelve years ago it was, lad. he'd be a man noo. i sent him fer the bag wi' the pay-roll in it, an' he never coom back. it was the money thet done it, fer mind ye, i'm tellin' ye, he was jest a boy, seventeen. he went away to the woods wi' it, and then was shamed to coom back, i know. so if ye'll be goin' to the woods ye'll be watchin' noo, won't ye?" "was he your boy?" "no, not mine. but 'twas i was to blame; sendin' him fer th' pay; an' him so young. five thousand seven hundred and twenty-four dollars it was, of the logging company's money; a month's pay fer the men. an' if ye see him tell him i was all to blame. tell him to coom back; the province'll fergive him." "and the company?" asked bruce. "partners both dead. died poor. no. 'twasn't the loss of thet money. they had many losses. contractin's a fearfu' uncertain business; fearfu' uncertain." the old man shook his head slowly. "any heirs?" asked bruce. "heirs? to the partners? yes, one. a girl, noo. ye'll be kenin' the lass thet helps in the boardin' shack where you and the bosses eat?" "la vaune?" grinned barney, poking bruce in the ribs. "do you _know_ her?" la vaune, the little black-eyed french canadian, had taken quite a liking to her handsome young fellow-countryman, bruce. "well, noo," said the old scotchman. "thet's the lass noo. an' should you find the money noo, it will all be hers. an' ye'll be lookin' fer it noo, won't ye? many's the time i took a wee snack and a blanket an' made a wee pack an' gone into the woods to find him. but i hae never seen track o' him. he'll nae be by lake athapapukskow, fer there's folks there; not by lake weskusko neither, fer i been there, but som'ers in the woods timmie is, an' if he's dead his shack'll be there an' the money, fer he never coom out o' th' woods again, thet shamed he was." the boys promised to keep an eye out for timmie, if ever they went into the unknown wilderness, and left the old man with a new hope shining in his eyes. for a long time after reaching the office the boys worked in silence. at last barney straightened his tired shoulders and glanced at bruce. he was in a brown study. "what's on your mind, bruce?" he asked. "that money?" "thinking what it would do for la vaune; five thousand seven hundred and twenty-four dollars." bruce rolled the words out slowly. though they said no more about it, the old man's story was the inspiration of many a wild plan. the truth is, it was destined to play an important part in shaping their future. * * * * * "he's here! she's--it's here!" bruce burst into the office all excitement and half out of breath. "who's he, she, it?" grinned barney, slipping his pen behind his ear. "the major and the airplane! and the plane's a hummer!" it was barney's turn to get excited now. he jumped from his stool so suddenly that his pen went clattering. "let's have a look at her." he grabbed his cap and dashed out, bruce at his heels. some greek freight handlers were unloading the car when they reached the track. the work was being done under the direction of a rather tall man, erect and dignified. he, the boys felt sure, was the major. his face bore some peculiar scars, not deep but wide, and as he walked he limped slightly. "might be he's lost some toes," muttered barney. "had a cousin who limped that way." "the machine's a handley-page bombing plane, made over for some purpose or other," said bruce, with a keen eye for every detail. "that's the plane that would have bombed berlin if the war had lasted long enough. they're carrying mail from paris to rome in 'em now. those machines carried four engines and developed a thousand horse-power. this one is a lighter model and carries two engines. one's a rolls-royce and one a liberty motor. the fellow that planned the major's trip for him has selected his equipment well. they don't make them any better." "just look at the sweep of the planes," exclaimed barney. "they were made for high altitude work--up where the air's thin. no one would be coming up here for a high altitude test, would he?" "surely not; there's no particular advantage at this point for that." the boys watched the unloading with eager and experienced eyes. as barney put it, "makes me feel like some shipwrecked gob on a desert island when he sees a launch coming ashore." "yes," grinned bruce, "and soon you'll be feeling like your gob would when the launch came about and put out to sea again. no chance for you on that boat, barney." "guess you're right," groaned barney. "little enough we'll have to do with that bird." as he spoke several of the men recklessly jerked a plane to free it from its wrappings. the major, his back to them, was superintending the unloading of the liberty motor. "hey, you! go easy there!" barney sprang forward impulsively and showed the workmen how to handle the plane. when the job was done he stepped back with an apologetic air. the major had turned and was watching him. "you seem to understand such matters," he smiled. "i've worked with them a bit," said barney. "would you mind letting me know where you are located?" asked the major. "my aviator and mechanic have disappointed me so far. you might be of some assistance to me." "we're over at the bookkeeping shack--the office of the construction company," said barney, red with embarrassment. "he--that is, my bunkie here, knows more about those boats than i do. say, if we can be any help to you, we'll jump at the chance. won't we, bruce?" "surest thing," grinned bruce, as they turned regretfully toward the dull office and duller work. "say, you don't suppose," exclaimed barney that night at supper--"you remember those awful wide planes of the major's? you don't suppose he's starting for--" barney hesitated. "you don't mean?--" bruce hesitated in turn. "sure! the pole; you don't suppose he'd try it?" "of course not," exclaimed bruce, the conservative. "who ever thought of going to the pole in a plane through canada?" "bartlett's got a plan of going to the pole in a plane." "but he's going from greenland," said bruce. "that's different." "why" "steamboat. farthest point of land north and everything." "that's just it," exclaimed barney disgustedly. "steamboat and everything. you're not a real explorer unless some society backs you up with somebody's money to the tune of fifty thousand or so; till you've got together a group of scholars and seamen for the voyage. then the proper thing to do is to get caught in the ice, you are all but lost. but--the ice clears at the crucial moment, you push on and on for two years; you live on seal meat and whale blubber. half your seamen get scurvy and die; your dogs go mad; your eskimos prove treacherous, you shoot one or more. you take long sled journeys, you freeze, you starve, you erect cairns at your farthest point north, or west, or whatever it is. then, if you're lucky, you lose your ship in an ice-jam and walk home, ragged and emaciated. a man that does it that way gets publicity; writes a book, gets to be somebody. "you see," he went on, "we've sort of got in the way of thinking that it takes a big expedition to do exploring. but, after all, what good does a big expedition do? peary didn't need one. he landed at the pole with two eskimos and a negro. well, now it ought to be easy as nothing for two or three men in a plane, like that one of the major's, to go to the pole from here. there's a fort and trading post on great bear lake with, maybe, a power-boat and gasoline. then, if there happened to be a whaler, or something, to give you a second lift, why there you are!" "sounds pretty good," admitted bruce. "but nobody would ever attempt it." "of course not," retorted barney. "it's too simple." the two following days the boys found themselves taking morning and evening walks down the track to the airplane, which still lay piled in sections by the track. they were surprised to see that no effort was being made to assemble it. the reason for the delay was made clear to them by an unexpected encounter on the evening of the second day. finding the major pacing up and down before the machine, his slight limp aggravated by his very evident irritation, they were about to pass as if they didn't know there was a plane within a hundred miles, when they were halted by the upraised hand of the major. immediately both boys clicked heels and saluted. then they felt foolish for saluting in "civies." "i see you are military all right," smiled the major. "but how much do you really know about airplanes?" "oh," said barney, with exaggerated indifference, "bruce, here, knows a little and i know a little, too. between us we might be able to assemble your machine, if that's what you want." in spite of his heroic attempts at self-control, his voice betrayed his eagerness. truth was, his fingers itched for pliers and wrenches. "that's part of what i want, but not all," the major said briskly. "i am not an aviator myself, and my man has failed me at the last moment; had a trifling smash which resulted in a dislocated thigh. out of service for the season. i need an aviator and a good one. he says there's only one other not attached to military units that he could recommend--a canadian. but the plague of it is, the man can't be located." "might i ask the nature of your proposed trip?" asked bruce--then bit his lip a second too late. "you might not" the major snapped out the words. then in a kindlier tone, "my secret is not entirely my own. i can say, however, that it is not an exceedingly long trip, nor a dangerous one, as aviation goes, but it is an important one, and besides, if it comes out well, and i believe it will, i might wish to go on a more hazardous journey. in that case, of course, you can see i should wish a veteran pilot at the wheel and one who will take a chance." he turned to bruce. "you are a canadian, are you not?" "yes, sir." "then perhaps you can tell me of the whereabouts of this young canadian aviator. his name is--" the major stopped to think. "his name is--ah! i have it! it's manning--bruce manning." bruce's jaw dropped in astonishment. he was too surprised to speak. it was barney who, almost shouting in his excitement, said: "he's bruce manning, major." "what?" the major stood back and looked at bruce. "you? oh come; you are hardly more than a boy!" "yes," said barney, "he's hardly more than a boy, but some of the best flyers the allies had were hardly more than boys. they were boys when they went into it over there, but the boys who went up after the germans two or three times came down men, major. don't forget that." "you're right--and i beg your pardon," said the major, bowing to them. "i spoke thoughtlessly. so then i have the good fortune to be speaking to the very man i seek?" he went on, turning to bruce. "now i suppose the remaining questions are: will you be at liberty to take up aviation again and--do you want to?" "that," said bruce, struggling to keep his voice steady, "will depend upon at least one thing: if you will answer one question now, we will promise you a definite answer to-morrow morning at seven o'clock." "the question?" "my friend here, barney menter, is quite as skilled an aviator as i am. if i go, he goes. what there is in it in pay or peril we will share equally." barney stepped forward to protest, but bruce held him back and continued: "your machine is equipped for two men besides yourself. will you take us both?" "most certainly," said the major heartily. "in case you decide to accompany me, i shall wire the mechanic not to come and you two may divide the work between you as you may see fit. "i might say," he added, "that the pay will be double that which you are now receiving, and the journey will consume the remainder of the season. should we decide on something more hazardous, the pay will be in proportion, and there is, besides, a substantial, i might even say a rich reward offered, for the successful completion of this latter task. however, enough of that for the present. you can give me your decision in the morning, and i hope you accept." he bowed and strode away. "now, why didn't you say 'yes' on the spot?" demanded barney, impatiently. "we are required to give only a week's notice to the company and the nights and mornings of that week we can use getting the machine together and taking a trial flight." "i always sleep over a thing," answered bruce. "it's a habit i inherited from my father." long after, in quite different circumstances, barney was to remember this remark, and bless bruce's inheritance. mail had been delivered during their absence. barney found a letter on his desk. he puzzled over the postmark, which was from some pacific port. he tore the envelope open, glanced at the letter, then read it with sudden eagerness. "bruce," he exclaimed, "listen to this. it's from an old pal of mine, david tower; entered the navy same time i did the army." and he read aloud: "dear barney: "i'm off for somewhere far north; guess not the pole, but pretty well up that way. second officer on a u. s. sub. she's loaned to a queer old chap they call doctor. no particulars yet. hope this finds you 'up in the air,' as per usual. "dave." "that _is_ a coincidence," said bruce. "perhaps we'll meet him up there somewhere among the icebergs." "i'll suggest it!" exclaimed barney, reaching for his pen. "dear dave," he wrote. "am thinking of a little trip north myself. our ship's a hp handley-page. bring your guitar and oboe along. my partner and i are bringing saxophone and mandolin. we'll have a little jazz. till we meet, as ever, "barney." if the boy had known under what strange conditions this particular jazz performance would be given, he might have felt queer sensations creeping up his spinal column. "i say!" exclaimed bruce suddenly, "who's this major chap, anyway? i've a notion he's something rather big, maybe the biggest--" "you don't mean?--" "i'm not saying anything," protested bruce, "but this other man i'm thinking of left a toe or two in the arctic, and his face has freeze scars on it. his name's--well, you know it as well as i do." "shucks! it couldn't be," exclaimed barney. "he wouldn't be up here alone this way." "no, i guess not," sighed bruce. "but it would be great sport if it were he, after all." ten days later, a girl in her late teens stood shading her eyes watching a tiny object against the sky. it might have been a hawk, but it was not; it was an airplane--the handley-page, with the two young pilots and the major on board. the girl was la vaune. she stood there watching till the plane had dwindled to a dot, and the dot had disappeared. holding her apron to her eyes to hide her tears, she walked blindly into the house. the adventurers were well on their way. chapter ii the strange landing "i don't like the way the rolls-royce is acting," bruce grumbled through his telephone to barney, for, though they were not four feet apart, not a word could they hear, so great was the din of their two powerful engines. "same here," answered barney. "old major ought to have given us more time to try 'em out. brand new." "barren lands far away. forced to land in tree-tops. good-night!" after that there came only the monotonous roar of the engines. the major's orders had been "due north by west," and now, though they had put fully two hundred miles between themselves and the last sign of civilization, they were still holding to their course. they also had been directed to fly as low as was safe. three times the major had barked an order into the receiver; always to circle some spot, while he swept the earth with a binocular as powerful as could be used in an airplane. three times he had given a second order to resume their course. "he seems to be looking for something," barney said to himself, and at once he began wondering what it could be. mines of fabulous wealth were said to be hidden away in the hills and forests over which they were passing--rich outcroppings of gold, silver and copper. perhaps the major was trying to locate them from the air. here and there they passed over broad stretches of prairie, the grass of which would feed numberless herds of cattle. perhaps, too, the major was examining these with an eye to future gain. then, again barney thought of the illegal wireless station and he idly speculated on how it could be so important now that the war was over. there was little to do but think as they scudded away, now racing a cloud, then plunging through the masses of vapor, to reappear suddenly in the sunshine beyond. barney had always keenly enjoyed watching the land slip by beneath him as he flew, but on this journey there was the added joy of sailing over lands unknown. his reflections were suddenly cut short by a strange jarring rattle from the rolls-royce. instantly the thunder was cut in half, as also was their power. bruce had stopped the big motor. if now something went wrong with the liberty, they must make a forced landing. this, with the level stretches of prairie giving place to rough, rolling swells covered with scrub timber, was not a pleasant thing to think of and even less pleasant to attempt. the sun, sending a last yellow glow across the land, sank from sight, and soon the moon, with silvery light and black bands of shadow, was playing strange tricks with the stolid world beneath them. all day, when duties permitted, bruce had kept an eye open for a cabin hidden among the pines. now he shouted through the telephone to barney; "what'll i do if i catch a square of light below?" barney knew he was thinking of the boy, timmie, and la vaune's money he carried into the woods. a square of light, of course, would have been a cabin window. "kill your engine if you see a chance to light, and explain later," he shouted back. but no square of light appeared, and soon the thought of it was driven from their minds, for, of a sudden, the plane shuddered like a man with a chill. it was the second engine. bruce threw off the power. then, with a sput-sput-sput, started it again. once more came the shudder. again he tried with no better results. half its power was gone; something was seriously wrong. he turned to the other engine. it would not start at all. here was trouble. they were passing over ridge after ridge, and all were roughly timbered. surely, here was no landing-place. and if the second engine stopped altogether,--bruce's heart lost a beat at thought of it. he gave the engine more gas and headed the plane upward. she climbed slowly, sluggishly, like a tired bird, but at length the keener air told him they were a safer distance above the earth. "better chance to pick a landing-place from here," thought barney. they had scarcely reached this higher level when the engine stopped. no efforts of the pilot availed to start it. his companions silently watched bruce's mute struggles. the major, a perfect sport, sat stoically in his place. barney, knowing that suggestions were useless, also was silent. so they volplaned slowly downward, every eye strained for a safe landing-place. they knew what a crash would mean at such a place. loss of life perhaps; a wrecked plane at least, then a struggle through the woods till starvation ended it. they were four hundred miles from the last trace of white man's habitation. they had come down to three thousand feet when it became evident that only rough ridges lay beneath them. no landing-place here, certainly. they could only hang on as long as possible in the hope the ridges would give way to level ground. bruce thanked their luck for the wide-spreading wings which would impede their fall. a moment later he groaned, for just ahead of them he saw a rocky ridge higher than any they had passed over. here then was the end, he thought. but the tricky moonlight had deceived him. they cleared those rocks by a hundred feet and just beyond bruce gasped and looked again. "a miracle!" murmured barney. "or a mirage," whispered bruce. before them lay a square of level land, green,--in the moonlight. all about the square the land was black with trees, but there was a landing place. it was as if their trip had been long planned, their coming anticipated, and that a level field was cleared for them. it was only a matter of moments till they were bumping along over the ground. soon they were standing free from their harnesses and silently shaking hands. barney was the first to speak. "say, do you know," he said, "we're in somebody's wheat-field!" "impossible!" exclaimed the major. "see for yourself," the boy held before their astonished eyes a handful of almost ripened heads of wheat. "then what's happened?" demanded the major. "have you gone due south by west instead of north by west?" "unless my compass lied, and it has never done so before, we have gone north by west since we started, and we are--or ought to be at this moment--four hundred miles from what the white man calls civilization." "well," said the major, "since we are here, wherever that is, i suggest that we unpack our blankets and get out of the man's wheat-field, whoever he may be. the mystery will keep until morning." this they proceeded to do. a clump of stubby, heavy-stemmed spruce trees offered them shelter from the chill night wind, and there, rolled in blankets, they prepared to sleep. but bruce could not sleep. driving a plane through clouds, mist and sunshine for hours had made every nerve alert. and the strain of that last sagging slide through the air was not to be relieved instantly. so he lay there in his blankets, a tumult of ideas in his mind. this wheat-field now? had he really been misdirected by the compass on the plane? to prove that he had not, he drew from his pocket a small compass, and placing it in a spot of moonlight, took the relative direction of the last ridge over which they had passed and the plane in the wheat-field. he was right; the compass had been true. they were four hundred miles northwest of the last mile of track laid on the hudson bay railroad, deep in a wilderness, over which they had traveled for hours without sighting a single sign of white man's habitation. yet, here they were at the edge of a wheat-field. what was the answer? had some indian tribe taken to farming? with the forests alive with game, the streams with fish, this seemed impossible. of a sudden, the boy started. it was, of course-- the sudden snapping of a twig in the underbrush brought his mind back with a jerk to their present plight. he wished they had brought the rifles from the plane. some animal was lurking there in the shadows. wolves, grizzlies, some unknown terror, perhaps? then, in another second his eyes bulged. in an open space, between two spruce trees, where the moon shone brightly, had appeared for a moment a patch of white. then, amid the crashing of small twigs, the thing was gone. in childhood, bruce had been told many stories of ghosts and goblins by his irish nurse. he had never overcome his dread of them. but it was with the utmost difficulty that he suppressed a shout. then he laughed softly, for the crackling twigs told him he had seen a creature of flesh and blood, no ghost. he chuckled again and far in the dark a hoot-owl seemed to answer him and his company was a source of comfort. yet, here was, after all, another problem: what was this white-coated creature? of all the wild things of the forest, none was white save the arctic wolf. it was doubtful if he roamed so far south, especially in summer, and besides, this creature was too large and heavy to be a wolf. bruce thought of all the animals he knew and gave it up. it might have been a cow. cows in this wilderness did not seem more improbable than a wheat-field, but the creature had been too light of tread for that. could it have been an indian dressed in white, tanned deerskin? he was inclined to take this for the right solution, and wondered if he should awaken his companions. he could not tell what danger threatened. finally he decided to let them sleep. he would keep watch. the three of them could do no more. once more his mind turned to the problem of the wheat. what was it that he had just concluded? oh, yes, timmie! why might not timmie have camped here and planted this wheat? but twelve years? how had he lived? whence had come the seed wheat? there were a hundred questions connected with such a solution. ah, well, morning would tell. there would be a cabin somewhere on the edge of the field and they would eat. eat? for the first time bruce realized that he had not eaten for hours; was very hungry. securing some malted-milk tablets, carried for emergency rations, he dissolved them in his mouth. a wonderfully soothing effect they had. propping himself against the trees, he closed his eyes for a second, and before he could pry them open again, he, too, was fast asleep. when he awoke it was broad daylight and his companions were already astir. "did you fellows wake up last night?" he asked, rubbing his eyes sleepily. barney and the major shook their heads. "then you didn't see it?" "see what?" "the white thing." barney stared. the major's face was noncommittal. bruce told them of his experience. "he's been seeing a ghost," declared barney, with a laugh. "on the contrary," said the major slowly, "i think he hasn't. there are white creatures in the arctic; just such ones as he has described. i have seen them myself. no, not white bears, either. but i have never seen them this far south. i will not say now what i think bruce saw but i will say i do not think it was an indian." "look!" exclaimed barney suddenly in a whisper. he pointed to a thin column of smoke that was rising over the tree-tops, to the left of the wheat-field. "listen!" whispered bruce. "somebody's chopping wood." the freshening wind brought the sound of the axe plainly to their ears. a second later they heard the distant laugh of a child. "come on," said the major, throwing his roll of blankets at the foot of a tree. "where there's children there's no danger. maybe they'll have hot-cakes for breakfast!" a moment later found the three of them stealing silently through the forest. what they saw as they peered into the clearing brought them up standing. a man wielded an axe before a cabin. he was tall and strong, smooth-shaven and clean. no indian, but a white man. his clothing was of white-tanned buckskin. the cabin was of logs, but large, with a comfortable porch and several windows. the panes of the windows seemed near-glass. it was impossible to tell, from where they stood, whether the two laughing children who played by the door were white or half-breeds. the appearance at that door of a neatly-dressed indian woman seemed to settle that question. the three men had gone half-way across the narrow clearing, before the man, looking up from his work, saw them. instantly his face blanched. with a quick step backward, he reached for a rifle that stood by the door. then the arm fell limp by his side. "well, you've come!" he said in a lifeless tone. "i could have killed you, one or two of you, but i won't. i may be a thief, but not a murderer. besides, there are probably more of you back there in the trees." "on the contrary," smiled the major, "we are only three. we are not armed. so you see you might easily kill us all. but why you should want to, and why you expected us, when the last thing we thought to do was to land in your wheat-field last night, is more than i can guess." "landed?" the man's face showed his bewilderment. "i know," exclaimed bruce impulsively, "i'll explain. you're timmie--timmie--" he hesitated. "well, anyway, that's your first name. i know all about you--" again the man's trembling hand half-reached for the rifle. "then--then you have--come for me," he choked. bruce, realizing his mistake, hastened to correct it. "you're mistaken," he said quickly. "we haven't come for you in the way you mean. you won't need to go a step with us unless that is your wish. timmie, we're here to help you; to tell you that you were forgiven long ago." "is--is that true?" the man faltered. "the logging company?" "the partners are dead. their only heir, la vaune, forgives you." "and the province, the red riders?" "the province forgot the case years ago." "thank--thank god!" the man choked, then turned to hide his face. he faced them again in a moment and spoke steadily. "i've got the money here in the cabin, every cent of it. god knows i didn't mean to do it. but the temptation was too great. and--and once i had done it, i was afraid to go back. i would have died in prison. how did you come? are you going back? will you take the money to the little girl, la vaune?" "we're going farther," smiled bruce, happy in the realization of what all this meant to the maid in the camp. "we're going on. we flew here and will fly back--or try to." "and we'll be more than glad to return the money," he wished to add, but remembering that he would not have that to decide, he ended, "la vaune is no little girl now, but quite a young lady. she needs the money, too. and--and," he laughed sheepishly, "she's rather a good friend of mine." timmie drew his hand across his eyes, as if to brush away the vision of long years. then, with a smile, he said briskly: "of course, you'll have breakfast? we're having hot-cakes." "what did i tell you?" chuckled the major, slapping barney on the back. eager as the visitors were to hear the strange story of this man of the wilderness, they were willing that breakfast should come first. as they stepped upon the porch, the keen eye of the major fell on some white and spotted skins hanging over a beam. a close observer might have noticed a slight nod of his head, as if he said, "i thought so." but the boys were following the scent of browning griddle-cakes and saw neither the skins nor the major's nod. but barney, missing a familiar pungent odor that should go with such a breakfast in a wilderness, hurried back to the plane to return with a coffee pot and a sack of coffee. within the cabin they found everything scrupulously clean. strange cooking utensils of copper and stone caught their eye, while the translucent window-panes puzzled them. but all this was forgotten when they sat down to a polished table of white wood, and attacked a towering stack of cakes which vied with cups of coffee in sending a column of steam toward the rafters. with memories stirred by draughts of long untasted coffee, it was not difficult for timmie to tell his story. "when i left the settlement," he began, as he turned his mooseskin, hammock-like chair toward the open fireplace, and invited his guests to do likewise, "i struck straight into the wilderness. i had a little food, a small rifle and fishing-tackle. to me a summer in the woods with such equipment was no problem at all. i meant to go northwest for, perhaps, two hundred miles, camp there for the summer, then work my way back by going southwest. i would then be far from my crime and would be safe. that is what i meant to do. but once in the silent woods, i began to think of the wrong i had done. i would have given worlds to be back. but it was too late. i had to keep going. fording rivers, creeping through underbrush, climbing ridges, crossing swampy beaver-meadows, fighting the awful swarms of mosquitoes, i got through the summer, living on fish, game and berries. you see, i had become terribly afraid of the red riders--the mounted police. i had heard that sooner or later they always got a man. i was determined they would not get me. "at last, snow-fall warned me to prepare for winter. i was in this valley that day, and i've been here ever since. if i had ever got any pleasure from that stolen money, which i haven't, i would have paid for that pleasure a hundred times that first winter. fortune favored me in one thing: the caribou came by in great droves, and, before my ammunition was exhausted, i had secured plenty of meat. but at that, i came near dying before i learned that one who lives upon a strictly meat diet must measure carefully the proportions of lean and fat. someway, i learned. and somehow, starving, freezing, half-mad of lonesomeness, i got through the winter, but i am glad you did not see me when the first wild geese came north. if ever there was a wild man, dressed in skins and dancing in the sun, it was i." "but the wheat?" asked barney. "how did that happen?" "i am coming to that," smiled his host. "early that spring," he continued, passing his hand across his forehead, as if to brush away the memory of that terrible winter, "the indians came. they came from the dismal lake region. driven south by forest fires, they were starving. i had a little caribou meat and shared it with them; that made them my everlasting friends." "and you got the wheat from them?" interposed barney. "hardly. i doubt if they had ever seen a grain of wheat. "well, we lived together that summer. but i am getting ahead of my story. shortly before they arrived, i noticed some strange-looking caribou in the clearing. i had no ammunition, so could not shoot them. anyway, they were skin-poor and would be of little use to me. but they seemed strangely tame, coming close to my cabin at night. they were company, and i was careful not to frighten them away. one night, in the moonlight, i caught a glistening flash from the ear of the oldest doe. then, too, i noticed that one of them had unnaturally short antlers. a closer look told me that these antlers had been cut off. "then came the wonderful discovery: these were not caribou, but reindeer escaped from some herd in alaska. "right then i decided to capture and use them. i would put them in pound until their rightful owners came for them, which would be never." he smiled. "well, i tried making a lasso of caribou skin. for a long time i could not come near enough to reach them with the lasso. but one night, while they rested, i crept up to them and my lasso caught one by the antlers. then there was a battle, and all the while i was thinking that now i should have milk, butter and cheese, meat and clothing. and then there was a snap; the skin-rope broke and away went the reindeer--and my hopes. "i then hit on the plan of building a corral and driving them into it. this was a pretty big job for one man, but with trees lining both sides of a narrow run, where the deer went to drink, i managed to weave willow branches into the spruce trees and make a stout barrier. well--one morning, i found myself with six reindeer in pound--a bull, three does, a yearling and an old sled-deer. not long after, the herd was increased by four fawns. "by good luck, just at this time, the indians came. they were all for killing the reindeer, but i stopped that. we fed, as i said before, on my caribou meat, and then came the wild-fowl and the streams opened up for fishing. "it was fortunate that the indians came. they helped me to build corrals, big enough to give the reindeer plenty of pasturage and pretty soon they were fat and sleek." "pardon me," interrupted the major, "but were some of the reindeer white?" "two of them were milk-white. and now i have many of them running free in the forest." barney grinned, and bruce poked him in the ribs. "my ghost," he whispered. "the wheat," said the host, "was no great mystery, after all. the bank cashier had put into the money-sack two samples of wheat and one of beans which he wanted to have tried in this north country. i have tried them; with what luck, you can see. i don't need to fence my reindeer now, for in winter when the moss is buried deep under the snow i turn them in on stacks of wheat hay. finally when the indians went back north the following winter they left me a wife, as you see." he smiled toward his dusky mate, who was industriously scouring a copper griddle. there was silence for some time. then the major spoke: "the thing that interests me is how you manage to keep up your standards of neatness and cleanliness." "it is not so hard," said timmie. "i came of a good old scotch family. when i was a boy my mother taught me that 'cleanliness is next to godliness,' and i made up my mind that--well, that i would at least be clean. that was all there was left for me to be, you know." "i think you may call yourself both," said the major stoutly. "you have paid well for your mistake by twelve years of exile, and as for the money, we'll take that back with us." timmie smiled. "i'll be happy for the first time in twelve years when it's gone," he said. "i say, major," exclaimed bruce, "i've been thinking of those white reindeer. don't you suppose that solves the problem of peary's white reindeer?" there was a peculiar twinkle in the major's eye, as he asked: "how do you make that out?" "well, there had been reindeer in alaska for twenty-five years when peary discovered his on the eastern coast of our continent. there are many white ones among the domestic herds, and they are constantly wandering away, or being driven away, by packs of wolves. if they wandered this far, might they not easily have gone on to the other side of the continent?" "possibly. possibly," the twinkle in the major's eye grew brighter, but he said no more. presently he rose and stepped outside. "say!" exclaimed barney, "i feel like turning right around and going back." bruce knew that he was thinking of la vaune's money. "but we can't," he sighed. "it's not our plane nor our expedition. we're bound by agreement to go on. besides, there's no real need of going back. la vaune's all right for the winter. i arranged for her at my old college at brandon; she will attend the academy and help in the dining-room." "well, then," said barney, "i guess it's us for union-alls and at those engines." they were soon at their task. but, as bruce worked that day, he thought often of the mysterious twinkle he had seen in the major's gray eyes, as he spoke of the white reindeer. who was this major, anyway? and where were they going? the major alone could tell, and apparently he had no intention of doing so. chapter iii in the midst of the pack "i think," said the major, on the third morning after their strange landing, "that we would make a great mistake to set out again at this time. we are not likely to have the luck of our last landing a second time. then too, if we remain here until the lakes and rivers are frozen over, we can find a safe landing place every few miles. "and now," the major continued, stirring the fire thoughtfully, "now i think it would be right that i tell you something of the purpose of this journey." the boys leaned forward, eager for the story. "even now," he said slowly, "i do not feel like confiding to you what i may consider my great secret plans--plans for which this journey is but a trial-trip into the frozen north. that may follow in good time. but, as for this present journey, you are perhaps aware that an illegal wireless station has been operating somewhere in these woods and hills?" "yes--yes; we saw the offer of reward!" exclaimed barney. "the reward is a small matter," smiled the major. "should we be so fortunate as to capture the culprit, or be able to certify to his death, i will gladly turn over the reward to you boys." "thanks," said barney, who already had his share of the prize in his purse. "first i shall tell you the purpose of that wireless and why it is so important to locate it," the major went on. "it is one of the links in a chain around the world--a chain that threatens to bind civilization to a burning stake of sedition, anarchy and bloodshed. the operator is an anarchist, or, at least, belongs to an allied organization, and these, one and all, have for their purpose the destruction of the present order of things. now, there is not one of us but believes that there are many evils possible--yes, and put in operation under the present order, but we do not believe that matters are going to be bettered by a world-revolution. we believe that in time justice will come very much nearer being done under the old system; therefore, we are fighting to maintain it. that is why i volunteered to attempt to hunt out and if possible destroy this powerful wireless station, which is relaying revolutionary messages direct from russia to all important points in north america. my long experience in the north seemed to fit me for that task; and it is a task that i am determined to accomplish. "it is my theory that this wireless is located on the shores of great bear lake. in fact, i believe it is run by an independent trader operating at the east end of that lake, on conjurer's bay. a year ago he brought in a small electric plant, to light his trading post, he said. now this plant is capable of producing an almost unlimited amount of electrical power, provided only time is given. batteries of great power might easily be produced on the spot. chemicals for producing acids are found in abundance; so also are copper and zinc for the plate. all he would have to do then would be to make wooden boxes for the chemicals, erect his wires--he could string them from spruce poles--and the thing is done. it was impossible to reach the station by water after i had guessed its location, and there was of course the possibility that i was wrong, that it was nearer civilization. in that case i might be able to locate it, providing i made the trip by plane." "that explains why we circled three times during our first day's flight? you were looking--" "for the wireless tower," smiled the major. "and now," he went on, "i think we will just rest easy on our wings for a few weeks. you will get the engines in shape; take a few trial flights, if you wish, but be careful to conserve gasoline. we must have enough to carry us to great bear lake. there we will find a sufficient supply to carry us on any other journey we may decide on. the trader uses gasoline to run his electric plant and will have a supply. it will not be of very high test, but with two engines i think we will make it answer our purpose. if we find that my theory regarding the location of the tower is not correct, we will buy a supply from him, and if it _is_ correct--" he did not finish, but smiled and poked the fire again. "take it all in all," said barney to bruce some time later, "i think our trip promises to be dangerous enough to satisfy even a bloodthirsty young savage from the canadian army." "or a young cherokee from the wilds of boston commons," laughed bruce, heaving a wrench in the general direction of his companion. but, though they went about their work in a playful mood, they did it with great care. after they had taken the two little timmies for several rides, they declared the airship quite ready for further voyaging. "and as for gasoline," said bruce, "we still have two hundred and forty gallons in the tank which will give us a-plenty for the trip, and several hours to spare; but coming back--that's another matter." barney realized that this was, indeed, another matter, and, though he shared the major's hope of securing a supply at the trading station, his face grew grave at thought of being stranded more than a thousand miles from civilization at the beginning of winter, and with only a few days' supply of provisions. what if this trading station was one of those myths that float down from the north? or, what if it had been abandoned? barney shook himself free from these thoughts, and seizing his mandolin, went to join bruce and timmie on saxophone and rudely-devised indian kettledrums in a wild-woods symphony, while the children danced wild steps the boys had never seen. * * * * * "well, we're off!" barney said this, as he buckled on his harness and touched the starting lever. the wheels of the starting gear bumped over the thin-crusted snow and jolted through timmie's wheat stubble, then the great bird began to rise. winter had set in. now they glided over dark forests of spruce, and now swept above great stretches of barren lands. the air was biting cold. they were thankful enough for their face-protectors, their electric hand and foot warmers, their fur-lined leather union-alls. but best of all was the glorious freedom of it. soaring on and on over untrodden wildernesses, with no thought of dangers known and unknown, made them feel like explorers of a new world. the engines worked in perfect harmony. a gentle breeze from the south urged them on their way. the sun soon set and a long night began, but what of that? the moon and snow lighted the earth as if by day, and with a silvery glory. and now the northern lights began to flicker, flash and shoot across the sky. now they passed over a wide expanse of white, which they knew to be dismal lake. this was frozen over; then surely great bear lake, two hundred miles farther north, would be frozen, too. their safe landing would be assured. but as they neared their goal the boys' minds could scarcely escape misgivings. if the major's suppositions were correct; if, indeed, this trader was the hired agent of a fanatical clan, would he not be armed and on the alert? would he not, perhaps, have indians and half-breeds hired to help guard his secret? they were but three. the enemy might number a score. as barney thought of all this, he was thankful for one thing: by some strange chance, a small machine-gun and two thousand rounds of ammunition had been shipped north with the plane. their first thought had been to leave this behind, but after a discussion, they had decided to bring it; and there it was now, hanging in its swivel before him. in an emergency there remained but to load it and go into action. but it was quite an unexpected emergency that soon made him bless that bit of equipment. they were now well into the arctic. the air cut like a knife and chilled them to the marrow. barney began to long for warmth, food and sleep. he held his electric glove to the glass of the small clock before him. when the frost had thawed he noted the hour. "twelve o'clock! midnight!" he muttered. "and no landing in sight yet." there remained but to "carry on." but what was this? far to the north there showed a small, red ball of light. and it was not the aurora borealis! they were traveling fast. the ball of fire seemed to roll toward them along the earth at terrific speed, growing larger and more lurid. and now, beside it, wafting from it, like the tail to a comet, they could discern a swirling cloud, black in the moonlight. "it's a fire!" bruce gasped through his mouthpiece. "but what?--" began barney. just at that moment he caught the faint white line that marked the shore of great bear lake. they were, then, nearing their destination. tilting the plane upward, that they might get a better panorama of the region, and so direct their course, barney gave the great engine more gas. on they swept. presently the outlines of bays and frozen streams, of scrub forests and barren lands were plainly visible. a map under glass was just before him. brushing the frost from it, barney examined it by the light of a small electric bulb. then he looked away at the fire which was now clearly visible. his heart sank. the trading post was, indeed, a reality, or had been. at the present moment it was a ball of fire. "it's the trading post!" he barked to the major. "'fraid so," grumbled the major, hoarsely. "and the gasoline for our return--" "there it goes," sang bruce, with a note of despair. at that instant the whole ball of fire seemed to rise in air to burst like some gigantic rocket. there was no question in the boys' minds but that the supply of gasoline had been reached by the flames. after the great flash came blackness. the fire seemed for a time to have been extinguished. gradually here and there, far below, bits of burning tinder gleamed, fiery stars in an inverted heaven. soon the ruins were again blazing. they soared close, but high, avoiding the dangerous pockets of smoke gas. did they see dark figures dancing about the ruins? or was it merely the flickering shadows of posts and tree stumps. "indians!" murmured barney. instantly his mind mirrored to him pictures he had seen in histories of painted savages burning a settler's cabin. his blood ran cold. here they were, three men in the frozen wilderness, with little gasoline for their machine, with scant provisions and ammunition, and rushing toward perils they could not even guess. to kill and to escape would both be easy for these desperadoes. "go along down the lake and back again. use as little gas as possible, but keep in the air. we better not land at present." the very steadiness of the major's tone told barney that this experienced man of the north expected the worst. as they rushed down the white expanse, many thoughts raced through barney's mind. it seemed that hunger and cold grew upon him with every whirl of the engine-shaft. he thought of bruce and la vaune. would they ever return to la vaune with the money which was rightfully hers? and timmie? would they ever be able to help him blot the stain from his name? barney's friend, dave tower, who had gone north in a submarine on a mission as mysterious as their own; would they ever meet? they had now turned and were making their way slowly back. the fire had burned down to a dull red glow. the forest about had escaped the flames, and this was fortunate. should the indians leave them unmolested, they might possibly find a means of sustaining life by hunting and trapping. "when we get to the bay, might as well land," grumbled the major. "it's mighty tough up here!" barney assured him that it certainly was tough. he was glad they were to land, being very sure that if an indian did shoot him he would not feel it, so thoroughly benumbed was he with cold. then, suddenly, he gave a cry of surprise. they were nearing a point where conjurer's bay should appear. instead of the bay he saw what appeared to be merely a broad shoulder of frozen water, and beyond that, perhaps two miles, was a small lake lined by the forest. it was on the edge of this small lake that the fire smouldered. the boy rubbed his eyes, then looked again. had the cold benumbed his senses? was he seeing things? was he asleep and dreaming? apparently not, for from bruce through the receiver came a groan, then; "what's happened? the whole shape of the lake has changed within an hour!" barney shut off the engines. in the welcome silence which followed, as they drifted downward in a slow spiral, not a man spoke. their eyes were focused upon the earth. but now there came to their ears a sound like the distant rush of many waters. this grew rapidly louder, and finally divided itself into rattling and snapping sounds. presently the major let out a roar of laughter. "caribou!" he exploded. "they pass south from the barren lands in herds of hundreds of thousands, so thick they look like land! tip her nose up for another circle. see! there is the end of the herd away there in the distance. we'll be able to land where they have passed in fifteen minutes, an ideal landing-place--tramped hard." with a grin barney obeyed orders, and, as his engines began to revolve, felt himself shooting skyward. "now it's clear," roared the major. barney did not respond on the instant. he was thinking of something he had read about the "camp-followers of the barren-ground caribou." a chill not of the wind and cold crept into his heart. but what was to be done? he felt that another hour aloft would so benumb his senses that a crash would be inevitable. to land at a point other than that trampled by the caribou involved great risk, for there was undoubtedly a thick coating of drifted snow on the lake's surface. so he stopped the engines and they spiraled once more toward the earth. now they were nearing the surface of the lake. the distance was a thousand feet; now eight hundred. did he see shadows flitting across the ice? at five hundred feet he was sure that he did. he said nothing. so intent on landing was he that no risk seemed too great. at three hundred feet he saw them distinctly--gray streaks scooting across the trodden snow or resting on haunches, their shadows stretching before them. "great scott!" he muttered, "must be hundreds of them! oh well, they're cowards!" he tilted the machine for the final glide. there came a sudden exclamation from the major, then from bruce. they, too, had seen. it was too late now, for their landing wheels were almost touching the surface as they glided on. and now, strangely enough, some of the gray streaks began to chase the plane. as if imagining it a bird with flesh to eat and bones to gnaw, they came on. then, all at once, barney realized what they followed--the scent of fresh meat. timmie had killed a reindeer in honor of their departure and had presented them with a hind-quarter. this was now roped on the fuselage behind the major. they would have a fight. he knew that now. he thought of their weapons--two rifles. they were almost useless against five hundred gaunt, hungry wolves. and they were gaunt; he could see that as he flew by them. evidently camp-following this year had not given them an over-abundant supply of food. the season's calves were fleet and strong by now, and every herd had its thousands of antlered bulls that formed bristling hedges to defend their own. bump! the plane struck the ice and bounded, then struck again. barney's mind was now working fast. yes, there were other weapons--the oxy-acetylene torch--yes, the machine-gun. he shouted to bruce to get the torch, and, as soon as the plane slowed down, freed his hands from his gloves and began fumbling at the gun before him. the major was unstrapping the two rifles. the wolf-pack was crowding around in a grinning circle. barney caught his breath as his eyes swept the circle. five hundred if one, dripping-jawed, red-eyed, gray creatures-of-prey, they waited, as ever, for the coward's chance to fight with great odds in their favor. "don't shoot until forced to," said bruce, turning to the major. "if you do you may bring the whole pack down upon us." in this emergency, bruce took the lead, and, assuredly, that was the wise plan; for, reared as he had been in the forests and plains of the northland, he knew wolves. just now he was dragging from their hiding-place in the fuselage two iron tubes, perhaps eighteen inches long and six in diameter. one tube contained oxygen, the other acetylene gas. the tubes were connected by a set of registering valves. to these, in turn, was fastened a wire-wound rubber hose with a long brass nozzle. once the valves were turned, the acetylene gas forced out by a pressure of a thousand pounds and united with oxygen as an accelerator would produce a shooting flame that burned metals as if they were sun-dried pulp. the machine stopped and the pack crowded in. with an electric flash lamp in one hand and the rubber hose in the other, bruce stood watching. with aching, clumsy fingers and bleared eyes, barney worked on the machine-gun that, with oil fairly frozen in its parts, seemed about to refuse to respond. "hurry!" exclaimed bruce, as a gaunt form with patches of brown, and double nose, telling of mixed blood, sprang forward, eager to drag the fresh meat from the fuselage. instead of firing, the major beat the beast over the head, and with a snarl he resumed his place in the ever-narrowing circle. and now the time for concerted action on the part of the pack seemed to have come; for, with one savage snarl, the first row rushed straight on. there came a flash, then the hiss of a white-tongued fiery serpent. as the first wolf reared on his haunches, the smell of burning hair and roasting flesh halted the half-maddened pack, and, falling over one another, again they retreated. it was a tense moment. slapping his hands to warm them, barney adjusted cartridges and swept the circle with an imaginary volley. what if the machine-gun jammed? there could be but one result. the torch would not long hold the beasts off. besides, the gas would not last. "well, shoot if you can!" exclaimed bruce. "this gas is precious stuff. we can't waste it." at that, there came the staccato music of the machine-gun. with steady eye barney swept the inner circle. they went down like grain before a gale. with strange wild snarls they bit at their wounds, at one another, at the snow. the gun swept again with its merciless fire. the furthermost members of the pack began to slink away. then as barney raised his gun and sent a rain of bullets pattering about them, the whole snarling pack fled in yelping confusion. the battle was won. bruce cut off the gas. barney ceased his fire. the major, loosing his harness, stood up and stretched himself. then they looked at one another and laughed. "some fight!" exclaimed barney. "some fight!" agreed bruce. "some fight!" reechoed the major. "and the next thing is to put the injured out of their misery. after that we must skin 'em and make a cache for the meat." "meat?" the boys questioned. "sure," smiled the major. "wolf meat isn't bad at all. you perhaps forget that we have not a hundred miles of gas in the tank. we may be here quite some time!" chapter iv a modern battle with criminals when dave tower, barney menter's one-time pal, received the letter suggesting a bit of "jazz" somewhere within the arctic circle, he was on twelve-hour shore leave. they were to start on that mysterious subsea journey at high-tide next day. he grinned as he showed the note to ensign blake, his commander. then he went around the corner and purchased a second-hand guitar and an oboe. "look!" he exclaimed, pointing to a pair of battered kettledrums in the corner. "there's the original pair--made by the adam and eve of the south sea islands, or wherever kettledrums originated. i'll buy 'em and teach some gob to drum. we'll have a whole band when we arrive." a few hours later found them aboard the snug, shapely hull of u boat n. of the u.s.a. submarine fleet. the sub was a small one, patterned after the most recent british model, known as the "k" class. fleet as a flying-fish, she made twenty-two knots on the surface and ten knots when submerged. she presented a rather odd appearance, having a short, square funnel, which was swung over into a recess in the deck when the craft submerged. her gun and torpedoes had been removed. the weight of those had been replaced by an additional supply of oil and by quantities of provisions. the provisions, together with bales of skin clothing, were packed into every available space. she made splendid progress as she left the harbor and wound her way in and out among the islands of puget sound, to emerge finally round cape flattery and strike away into the open sea. it became evident at once that this was no coastwise journey. further than that, not even ensign blake knew its purpose. the sub was registered at the navy-yard as "off on detached duty." the crew of ten men were all volunteers for the trip. the expedition was under the direction of a doctor. a man past middle age, he sat in a wicker chair below, smoking innumerable cigars and saying nothing. "far's i can dope it out," blake said to dave, "the old fellow did some good service for the government during the war. he's had plenty of experience in the north; has some theories he wants to work out about subs and the arctic. the government has some little trick they want pulled off up in that north country. the doctor volunteers to lead the expedition, and here we are!" "but what do you suppose--" "don't suppose a thing," said blake, gazing astern at the last fading bit of land. "there's a lot of things that might be; but like as not none of my guesses is correct." "let's hear you guess." "well, first, you know, uncle sam has some valuable seal islands in the aleutian group. maybe, during the war the japs or russians have got careless about drifting around that way and carrying off a few hundred skins. might be, you know. "but i'm not saying that's it. a sub would be a mighty fine craft for watching that sort of game, though. and then, there's another thing i've thought of. there's gold in russia, on the kamchatkan peninsula; you know that, don't you?" "no." dave opened his eyes wide in surprise. "heaps of it. tons and tons! just waiting for the digging. and before we went into the war, when russia was still with the allies and needed money, our government, or independent capitalists, i don't know which, furnished the russians a lot of machinery for mining the gold; about a million dollars' worth, i guess. then came the revolution in russia. i doubt if a cent has been realized from the sale of machinery. who's in possession of that peninsula at the present time? god alone knows. japan would like to meddle there, i'm sure. perhaps we're being sent up there to conduct an investigation. "those are my two guesses. take 'em for what they're worth." "you don't think," said dave, "that we'd attempt the pole?" the ensign was silent for a time. "no," he said at last, "i don't. of course, stefansson has said that a 'sub' is the most practical way to go there; that ice-floes are never more than ten feet thick and twenty-five miles wide, and all that; but there are too many unsettled problems relating to such a trip." "but say!" exclaimed dave, "who is this doctor of ours, anyway?" "blamed if i know," said blake, as he turned away to go below. "well, anyhow," dave remarked, "whoever he is, he's going to take us where the white ice-floes are drifting. look at the color of this craft; blue-white, like the ice itself." the journey north, save for a storm, which they avoided by submerging, was uneventful until they found themselves in the company of scattered ice-cakes with the snow-capped ridges of the aleutian islands looming up before them. in no time at all every man on the craft realized that on these islands was to be found one of the objects of their quest; for, once they had sighted the shores, the funnel was dropped, electric power applied, and watchers, dressed in white to match the color of the craft, set to scan the shores for signs of life. they stole through the water like some ghost craft. "believe it's that seal-fishery business?" asked dave, as he and the ensign took their watch. "no." dave was certain from the tone that the doctor had confided his secret to the ensign. he asked no more questions. so they drifted on. the wind had dropped. the swell rolled their craft as it plowed along. here and there a sea-lion thrust its ugly head from the water. twice a seal attempted to climb upon the slippery hull for a rest, but, to the amusement of the boys, slid back into the water. an offer to assist the third one was not appreciated, and the ridiculously human-like head disappeared beneath the water with great alacrity. dave had been searching the hills with his binoculars for some time when he suddenly gave the glass to the ensign. "what's that tangle above the cliffs there?" he asked. the ensign studied the cliffs for some time. then he touched a button with his foot and they turned silently shoreward. "that's it!" he said with an air of finality. "what?" asked dave eagerly. "the wireless." then the ensign explained to dave the purpose of their journey. they had been sent into the arctic to locate a wireless station, supposed to be placed in the aleutian islands; a station run by radical propagandists, part of a world-federation, which proposed to wreck all organized society. had dave realized that the missions of sub and airplane were alike he would have been startled. as it was, his face took on a tense, expectant look, his cheeks burned hot with excitement. the doctor was called to the conning-tower. after studying the contour of the island for some time, he said: "their shack, built of rocks and driftwood logs, is at the base of the cliff. that is good. we will divide into two parties. four of us will go up the cliff and get above them, while four others will skirt the cliff and, under cover, await my signal. our supporting party will take ropes, rifles and a machine-gun. i will go with the party to the top of the cliff. we will carry only rifles and some special instruments of attack which i have stored in canvas sacks below. two men must remain on board. head in close to those rocks before us. they are out of sight of the shack and there is ice stranded there--a straggler will scarcely tell our craft from it. i have no doubt there are a number of them and that they are hardy ruffians. we must proceed with great care. "hark!" he put his hand to his ear. "they are sending messages now. "in the future," continued the doctor, as he handed dave two strange-looking spheres, the size of a man's head, "the work of sheriffs, policemen and other officers of the law is not going to be quite so hazardous. when a criminal runs amuck, he will not kill a half-score of brave men before he is captured. the officers of the law will do what we will soon be doing, and a child can do the rest. only," he continued, "watch your step going up that hill. it doesn't take much of a bump to get one of these funny little balls excited." dave had been detailed to assist the doctor. ensign blake would lead the supporting party around the cliff, there to await the doctor's signals. besides the sack in which dave carried the large spheres, there was another carried by a seaman. this one gave forth a metallic clinking, as if it were full of iron eggs. with the doctor and the other seaman carrying two rifles each, the four men made their way slowly around the rocky hillside and were soon advancing silently, single-file, up the surface of one of those perpetual snow-banks for which the islands are noted. the rocks above were much larger than they had seemed from the sub. twice, as he climbed over them, dave's foot slipped and each time his heart was in his mouth. one stumbling misstep and all might be over for him. but he had the clear, cool head of a clean boy who had lived right, and an appreciation of the joy of living, which would take him far and keep him safe through many an adventure. so, safely, they reached the top of the cliff. the doctor motioned dave to come back with him to a box-like edge of rock, which would give them a view of what lay some three hundred feet below. all was still. the moon, a great yellow ball, floated in the sky above and in the sea beneath. a lone sea-gull, awakened by the supporting party, sailed screaming away. not a move, not a sound was to be detected below. yet there, in a rocky cavern, were a number of world-criminals, and behind some crag were three jackies and their commander. soon all this would be changed. fighting, perhaps death, would end the quiet of that arctic scene. dave's hand trembled with excitement as he arranged the two sacks beside the doctor. even the doctor's hand shook as he opened one sack and drew forth a number of small iron objects, the size and shape of a bicycle handle-bar grip. his face grew stern. "understand mill's grenades?" he asked. "yes." "all right. when i say 'go' drop ten of these as fast as you can release the pins. drop 'em on their shack." dave's heart thumped violently. he had thrown mill's grenades at manikin "enemies," but never had he hurled them where human flesh was the target. slowly, mechanically, he arranged the ten grenades in a row. "go!" the word sang in his ears. ten seconds later from below came two sharp reports--his grenade and the doctor's. they were off together. crash followed crash in quick succession until the row was finished. silence followed for a single second. then came the cries and curses of men, as they staggered from their half-demolished shelter and began to scatter. dave's heart thumped. there were fifteen, at least. "now!" exclaimed the doctor, and lifting one of the large spheres he dropped it over the ledge's edge. just as that instance dave saw one of the rascals raise his rifle and fire. immediately there came a cry of distress. dave thought he recognized the voice and a lump rose in his throat. but now there came a dull muffled explosion--the strange bomb. instantly the men below began acting like madmen. throwing away their rifles, they staggered about, tearing at their eyes, their throats, their clothing, and uttering wild cries of distress. at the same time three automatic pistols cracked, and dave knew the doctor had given his signal. to his surprise, he saw the three jackies emerge from hiding wearing gas masks. quickly they overpowered the wild men, tied them and carried them around a point of land. as they did this the doctor and his band kept guard above, rifles ready for any man who might, by some chance, recover sufficiently from the gas to shoot. but none did. "it won't do them the least bit of harm," the doctor said, as he noticed the look of surprise on dave's face. "it's only chlorpicrin--a tear gas. it comes in liquid form, so must be associated with an explosive which transforms it into a gas and scatters it. you will see that our men are carrying them out of it as soon as they have them secured. it's a safe and harmless way of handling criminals. the war taught us that." "but the ensign?" exclaimed dave, as he saw the last ruffian in the hands of the jackies. "something must have happened to him," said the doctor rising hastily. "there was a shot," dave reminded him. together they hastily made their way down the rough hillside. slipping, sliding, falling, to rise again, they came to the lower surface and hurried around the point where the prisoners had been carried. a strange scene awaited them. sixteen men lying in a row, all tightly bound. and what a motley crew they were--japs, russians, mexicans, greeks, and even americans, they had gathered here for a common purpose. but it is doubtful if one of them could have told what the next step would be, should their first task be accomplished. off to one side, lay ensign blake, white and still. one of the seamen was bending over him. "got an ugly one in the chest," he said simply. "think we can save him?" the doctor bent over, and tearing away blake's garments, made a thorough examination. "he'll pull through," he said. "but we must get him to the mission hospital at unalaska at once. begin throwing those rascals aboard. there's a prison there for their accommodation." at that moment the two other jackies appeared, carrying a moaning burden in the shape of a jap radical. "one's done in for good," the foremost man explained. "we searched the ruins. maybe we can save this fellow." "take him aboard," said the doctor. then, turning, he directed the men who carried their fallen commander to the craft. * * * * * "well, that about ends our present career in the arctic." the doctor was speaking to dave, and emphasized his word with a sigh. "i had hoped we might do something really big, but blake will not be out again this season. he'll get around again all right, but it's a slow process." dave sat thinking. suddenly he jumped to his feet. "doctor," he said eagerly, "there's a gob on board who is sure a wonder at navigation. don't you think--think, he and i might manage the sub for you--your trip?" "h--m." the doctor grew thoughtful, but a flash of hope gleamed in his eye. "tell you what," he said presently, "there's a considerable ice-floe between the islands; the north wind brought it down last night. have your crew ready for a try-out in the morning." with a heart that ached from pure joy of anticipation, dave hurried to an ancient sealer's bunk-house where his men were housed. "a try-out, try-out, try-out," kept ringing in his ears. what did it mean if they were successful? something big, wonderful, he was sure. russian gold? charting northeast passage? north pole? he did not know, but nothing seemed too difficult for his daring young heart. and the next day the try-out came. and such an ordeal as it was! gobs had surely never been put to a test like that in any navy-yard training station! for five long hours they dived and rose and dived again. they rose suddenly, rose slowly; they tipped, glided, shot through the water. they passed for miles beneath the ice-floe, to emerge at last and bump a cake, or lift themselves toward a dark spot not larger than the sub itself--a patch of open water in the midst of the floe. with mind all in a whirl, dave gave the final command to make for port. it had been a great day. that night, after "chow," the doctor called dave into his room at the hospital. "young man," he said, motioning the boy to a seat, "you and your crew have surprised me beyond belief. i feel that we shall be risking little in attempting what, to many, might seem the most difficult task ever undertaken by a submarine. i do not yet feel free to tell you what that trip will be; you'll have to take that on faith. i can only tell you that we will proceed from here directly to nome, alaska. there we will get more oil and provisions. we will then sail through behring strait due north." for a time the two sat in silence. the doctor's face grew mellow, then sad at recollections of years that had gone. "i don't mind telling you," he said after awhile, "that i am an explorer, you almost might say 'by profession;' that some years ago another explorer and i sought the same goal. we went from different points; both claimed to have reached it. but he got the honors." "and you really reached--" "doesn't matter now what i did in the past," interrupted the doctor quickly. "what i am to do in the future is all that counts, and the immediate future is big with possibilities." "the crew will be with you to a man," dave assured him, as he rose to go. as he stepped into the cool night air, dave found that his face was hot with excitement. there was left in his mind not one doubt as to their final destination: it was to be a try for the pole. only one thought saddened him; that his good friend, blake, would not continue as one of the party. two days later they crossed over to the island of the illicit wireless station. they found the apparatus in perfect condition, and the doctor at once began sending messages. "i'm letting the world know of our purpose," he explained. "at least, trying to. sending messages by code to a friend of mine in chicago. hope seattle will pick it up, and if not, perhaps that radical operator who is supposed to be relaying messages to canada and the states from the north-central portion of the continent will catch it, and, thinking it one of his own messages in a new code, pass it on." had the doctor known what kind of radicals were in control of the station on great bear lake at that moment, perhaps he would have been more careful what messages he sent. "if you don't mind," said dave, "for the sake of my friends, and especially of my mother, i wish you'd include my name in the message." "it's already done," smiled the doctor. chapter v an infernal machine when bruce, barney and the major found themselves stranded on the shore of a vast frozen lake at the beginning of an arctic winter, they at once took steps to conserve all resources. building a cache between three scrub spruce trees, they piled upon it their wolf meat and skins. to barney the thought of eating "dog meat," as he called it, was most repulsive, but necessity gives man little choice in the arctic, so he munched his roast wolf's back that night in silence. but at the same time, he vowed that, sure as the caribou had not all passed, he would dine on caribou roast before long. once the cache was completed, they began scouting the woods near the ruins of the burned trading station. there they found plain signs of indians. a circle of beaten tracks made certain a pow-wow had been held there. "doesn't look very good to me," admitted the major. "these indians of the little sticks are a fierce and cruel people, full of superstitions, and living up to the old law of 'blood revenge.' there's only one thing in our favor: they have a superstition about a giant creature, known as the thunder-bird. the stories of this terrible bird are known to almost all indian tribes, but the little sticks believe them literally. from the tracks i should judge that they left in great haste. what could cause this fright, save the sound and sight of our plane hovering over them? since it is almost certain that they have never seen an airplane, it seems likely that they considered it to be old thunder-bird come to carry them off. if that is true, i shall not look for them back in a hurry." "what puzzles me is, where's the remains of the fellow's generator and wireless?" said barney. "don't see anything down there in the ruins, do you?" instantly all eyes were turned toward the smouldering piles of ashes. "the place was wired all right," said the major, pointing to a mass of tangled lighting wire. "say! what's that out in the center?" exclaimed barney. "looks like the bones of a man?" "so it does," said the major, "and surely is. well, there can't be any further doubt about the rascal being burned in the ruins of his own house." then there came a shout from barney. he had been tracing out the masses of blackened wire. "look!" he exclaimed. "here's where the lead-wires go into the ground. must be a separate power-house. three lead-wires instead of two. what do you suppose that means?" he clipped the soft wires off with his heavy knife, and bent them apart to avoid short circuits; then, closely followed by the others, went plowing away through the snow to search out the point where the wires left the ground. they traced them through the scrub timber, and, almost at once, came upon a strange frame-like structure, ending in a tall pole, and having at its center a house built of logs. the whole affair was quite invisible outside the timber. "it's his wireless station," breathed the major. "no further doubt remains." he stepped to the door and found himself gazing into a well-arranged room--electric generator, storage batteries in rows and instruments of every description along the walls and the floor. but what caught bruce's eye was two rows of ten-gallon cans piled in the rear. with a cry of joy he sprang toward them. but his joyful look changed to an anxious one, as he lifted can after can and found it empty. only one contained gasoline, and that was but half-full. "not enough to give our thunder-bird a drink," he groaned disgustedly. "well, at any rate," said the major, "we've found a place that won't make a bad shelter from arctic blizzards. i suggest that we bring the plane up to the edge of the woods nearest this point and camp here." "what's that?" exclaimed bruce in a startled whisper, as he detected some noise outside. he pushed the door open fearlessly, then laughed. there stood a dog. "not a bad find," said the major. "he may be a lot of help to us. and, look! there are four others! they're the trader's dogs. ran away when the place burned, i haven't a doubt. barney, run and get some wolf meat. we'll have a team at once. and we'll need it. can't move the plane without it." they were soon on good terms with the strange dogs. the major, who appeared to know all there was to know about arctic life, fashioned some eskimo style harness from wolfskin, and before many hours they had their plane by the edge of the woods, and were settled in their new home. that night, after they had enjoyed reindeer steak as a special treat, the major rather playfully put the receiving piece of the wireless over his head and clicked the machine. almost instantly, he exclaimed: "jove! i'm getting something! give me a note-book and pencil." for fifteen minutes he scratched strange dots and dashes across innumerable pages. at last he paused and removed the receiver. "guess that's about all for this time. let's see what we've got." three heads bent over the message. but, after hours of study, the only conclusion they could come to was that the message had been sent in a secret code, which they might never be able to decipher. "well," said the major, with a sigh. "station's closed for to-night. tell the gentleman to call again in the morning." at that he crept into his sleeping-bag and was soon snoring. the two boys gladly followed his example. barney made the first announcement in the morning. he was going caribou hunting. he had had quite enough "dog meat." bruce offered to go with him, but, on second thought, decided to try fishing through the ice. barney was soon lost in the wilderness of scrub spruce. but, though he hunted far, he found no fresh caribou tracks. it was on his return trip that he received the first surprise of the day. the wind was blowing fine snow along the surface and he found his out-going trail half-buried. then, suddenly, he came upon strange footprints. the person apparently had been going north, but upon seeing the white boy's track he had turned and retreated. the tracks were fresh and had been made by a heelless skin-shoe. "indian!" barney gasped. even as he spoke he caught the gleam of a camp-fire through the trees; then another and another. without a moment's delay barney started for the camp two miles away. he had reached the open space where the trading station had stood, had nearly crossed it, when out of the edge of the ruins there rose the form of a man, not an indian but a white man. barney's first thought was that it was bruce or the major. his second look brought action. he dropped flat behind some fire-blackened debris. the man wore a tomato-colored mackinaw, such as was not to be found in their outfit. whoever he was, his back was turned and he had not seen the boy. creeping a little forward, barney peered around the pile. what he saw set the cold chills chasing up his back. the man had torn two of the lead-wires from the frosted earth. slowly he placed their points together. in that instant the boy understood. he knew now the reason for the three wires leading to the power-house. two were for carrying light to the building. if the third one was connected with the right one of the lighting-wires, an infernal-machine would be set going, and the power-house, with all in it, would be blown to atoms. and, at this moment, bruce and the major were there. the man, whoever he was, had, since the wires were broken, found it necessary to test the pairs out. his first trial had been wrong. he was bending over for a second try when something struck him, bowling him over like a ten-pin. it was barney. the man was heavier than barney, and evidently older. he was fit, too. one thing barney had noticed--the gleam of an automatic in the man's hip-pocket. in his sudden attack he had managed to drag this out and drop it upon the snow. the struggle which followed was furious. holds were lost and won. blood flecked the snow, arms were wrenched and faces bruised. slowly, steadily, barney felt his strength leaving him. at last, with a gliding grip, the man's hand reached his throat. it was all over now. barney's senses reeled as the grip tightened. his lungs burned, his head seemed bursting. he was about to lose consciousness, when through his mind there flashed pictures of bruce and the major. he must! he must! with one last heroic effort, he threw the man half from him. then, faintly, far distant, there seemed to echo a shot, a single shot; then all sensation left him. when the boy felt himself coming back to consciousness, he hardly knew whether he was still in the land of the living. he dared not move or open his eyes. where was he? what of the stranger? the major and bruce; had they been blown into eternity? again and again these problems whirled through his dizzy mind. then all at once, he heard a voice. "i think he's coming 'round," someone, very far off, was saying. it was the gruff voice of the major. barney opened his eyes to find his companions bending over him. "what happened?" he asked weakly, his eyes searching their faces. "that's what we'd like to know," answered bruce; "we heard a shot, and hurrying out here found you unconscious beside a dead man." "dead?" barney sat up dizzily. "sure is. did you shoot him?" "shoot--i shoot--" the boy tried to steady his whirling brain. "no, i didn't shoot him." gradually the world ceased whirling about him and he was able to think clearly. then, together, they pieced out the story. barney told what had happened, and you may be very sure it was a sober pair that listened. "well, my boy," said the major solemnly, "we owe our lives to you; there's no doubt about that. as for him," he added, pointing to the dead man, "he must have rolled upon the automatic when you made your last effort, and accidentally discharged it. he has a bullet-hole in the back of his head where a pin-prick would have killed him. a case of pure providence, i'd call it." "let's get out of here," said barney, showing signs of weakness. "i've had quite enough of it." with an arm on either of his comrades' shoulders, he made his way back to the station, where a bowl of hot reindeer broth completely revived him. "the next thing," said bruce, "is to hunt out that infernal contraption which threatens our lives." it was a delicate and dangerous undertaking, but little by little, they traced out the wires and disconnected them. at last they found it in a small box which had been skillfully fitted into a beam. "innocent looking little thing," said bruce, holding it up for inspection. "to-morrow i am going to take it out to the lake, hook it up with a couple of batteries and see if it's got any kick." after a hearty meal, the three resumed their previous evening's occupation, attempting to decipher the strangely coded message. "here's a theory to try out," said bruce. "a message is usually composed of nearly an equal number of words of one to three letters and of those having more than three. these are likely to be used alternately. if then, you find two or three words of four or more letters, it's likely to be a name. the man, whoever he is, has signed only a code name, but there may be more names in the body of the message. look it over." "yes, here are two words together of five letters each," exclaimed barney. "think of names you know that are spelled with five letters," said bruce excitedly. instantly there came into barney's mind the name of his former pal. "there's dave tower," he said. "he'd sign it david, of course." "just fits," exclaimed bruce, more excited than ever. "and by all that's canadian, the first and last letters of the first name are the same, just as they are here. i believe we're on the right track." "but what would his pal have to do with it?" asked the astonished major. "he went north about the time we started." barney danced over the floor in his excitement. while the boys were too excited to do further deciphering, the major's cooler brain was busy. soon he rose and began pacing rapidly back and forth across the room. his face wore anything but a pleased expression, and his limp was greatly increased by his irritation. "did you get it?" asked barney. "i should say i did!" exclaimed the major. "right in the neck! and to think," he sputtered, "here we are without gasoline to carry us a hundred miles, and he starting with everything in his favor. if we just had gas for three hundred miles. there's plenty on the schooner, gussie brown. i called nome yesterday and found that out. but they can't bring it to us, and we can't go to them. we're stuck; stuck right here! and he's starting to-morrow!" the boys stared in speechless amazement, as the major, dropping into a chair, covered his face with his hands. it was many minutes before he was calm enough to tell them the simple truth of the matter, which was, of course, that the wireless message was that one sent by the doctor on the aleutian islands, telling of his intended journey northward; also that this same doctor was a hated rival explorer, whom he had beaten a few years before; that he had not intended going north at this time, but this action of his rival made it imperative that he do so now. finally, that the trading gasoline schooner, gussie brown, was frozen in the ice three hundred miles north of conjurer's bay and great bear lake, and had an ample supply of gasoline. "but after all, i guess we're beaten," said the major wearily. "if we succeed in getting out of this scrape alive we'll be fortunate." "cheer up! the worst is yet to come," smiled barney. "let's turn in." two interesting problems awaited the party in the morning. was the man who had been accidentally shot the night before the anarchist trader? if so, who was the person whose bones lay in the ruins? was the infernal-machine a genuine affair, and if so, would it explode? while the major was still brooding over his disappointment, the boys were so eager for these investigations that they quite forgot the affair of the wireless message. the identity of the dead man was soon established by papers found in his pockets. he was the trader. the skull found in the ruins was unmistakably that of an indian. a break in this skull showed that the person had died a violent death and had not been caught by the fire. the conclusion the boys arrived at was that the trader had killed the indian and had fled to the woods. the indians in revenge had burned his trading station. that he had intended to destroy the explorers was beyond question. he had, therefore, met a well-deserved fate. his body was buried, eskimo-style, on top of the ground, with stones piled over it to protect it from wolves. when this work had been completed, the two boys took the infernal-machine down to the frozen surface of the lake where there could be no danger from an explosion, and connected it with wires which they laid along the surface from the steep, snow-buried shore. "must be twenty feet of snow in there!" exclaimed bruce, as for the third time he lost his footing and slid to the bottom of the slope. presently they were well behind the ridge in the forest, and out of range of any flying splinters of machine or ice. "i feel as i used to when i was a schoolboy, and hid with the rest of the gang out in the woods and shot off charges of gunpowder in a gas-pipe bomb," grinned barney, as he screwed one wire to a post of a battery. "now we'll--" he exclaimed breathlessly. his last word was lost in the roar of a tremendous explosion. the shores of the bay took up the sound and sent it echoing and reechoing through the forest. fine bits of ice came rattling down through the trees, while a great cloud of smoke and mist floated lazily over their heads. "whew! some explosion!" murmured barney. bruce was silent. his face was white. "what's up?" asked barney. "nothing. i'm all right," bruce smiled grimly. "i was only thinking what might have happened yesterday." "forget it," grumbled barney. "c'mon, let's see the ruins." "fish!" exclaimed bruce, as they emerged from the forest. and assuredly there were fish in abundance. the thirty-foot wide pool, from which the ice had been blown, was white with them. there were salmon, salmon-trout, white-fish, lake-trout, flounders, and others the boys did not know. hundreds and hundreds of them, stunned by the explosion, floated on the surface only waiting to be harvested. "we'll have to work carefully," said barney, starting forward. "the ice is pretty well shattered. a plunge in that water, and the temperature at thirty below, wouldn't be pleasant, but i believe we can save every one of them. get a pole." he began cutting a large branch from a spruce tree. bruce followed his example. "now!" barney exclaimed, preparing to slide down the bank. but he paused in surprise. the snow-bank, shattered by the blast, had gone tumbling down to the surface of the lake. and what was that protruding above what remained of the snow? it was dark and v-shaped, like the gable of a roof. barney was for investigating at once, but bruce was more practical; the fish must be secured immediately. this food might yet stand between them and starvation. they were soon whipping the pool with their poles, and, as the fish came to the ice edge, they gathered them in. some were monsters, two or three feet in length. it was, indeed, a great haul. they piled them on the ice like cord-wood. already they were freezing; they would remain fresh for months. chapter vi the race is on "and now for the lakeside secret," exclaimed barney, tossing the last fish upon the pile, and throwing his frosty pole aside. eagerly bruce sprang to his feet. together they raced around the pool. clambering over the tumbled avalanches of snow, they were soon within sight of the strange triangle. barney's heart beat fast. what was it? could it be only a bit of bent timber lodged there on the log-roof of a long-abandoned indian shack? or was it--was it what he knew bruce hoped it might be--a supply-house for gasoline, or perhaps a motor-boat with a supply of gasoline on board? excitedly they attacked the piles of snow. lacking shovels, they worked with hands and feet. hope grew with every kick and scoop. this was no mere bit of timber, nor yet an abandoned shack; it was too recently built to leave a doubt about that. and now they had reached the top of the door. "i say we've found it," panted bruce, redoubling his efforts. "wait. don't hope too much," gasped barney, tossing aside snow like a dog burrowing for a rabbit. the door had a spring padlock on it. barney, hurrying to the lake for some pieces of ice, cracked the lock as he would a nut between stones. then, prying the door open a bit at the top, he tried to peer in. "dark," he muttered. "can't see a thing." breathlessly they resumed work. and now the door was free to the very bottom. it was bruce's turn. forcing the door open a foot, he took one good look, then let out a whoop. "gasoline!" he shouted. "bedons of it!" "may be empty," suggested barney. "i'll see," said bruce. an instant more, and having crowded himself through the narrow space, he struck a hundred-gallon steel bedon with his fist. no hollow sound came from it. "full," he exclaimed, and, the strain over, sank to the floor with a sigh of relief. the more hardy barney began to explore the place. to the back was a small gasoline launch, apparently in perfect condition. ranged along the right wall were the bedons, five of them, all full but one, and each containing a hundred gallons. "well," said barney, sitting on a bedon, and kicking his heels against its steel side, "now we can take the major to the moon, or any other did place he wishes to go; that is, if we want to." for a long time bruce was silent. now that the excitement was over he realized he was homesick. then, too, the dangers of yesterday had shaken his nerves. he was thinking, also, of la vaune working her way through the academy when money, much money, belonging to her lay idle; and of timmie, who awaited their return to assist him in the retrieving of his good name. but there came the after-thought: had it not been for the major's trust in him and in barney, none of these things would have been possible. yes, they owed a debt to the major and that debt must be paid. "and i guess we want to take him where he wants to go," said he, straightening up as he looked his friend in the eye. "good!" exclaimed barney. "i was going to leave it to you, but i knew you'd do it. it's the chance of our lives. i'm sure he means the pole--the north pole! think of it! and, then, there's the reward!" "guess we'd better squeeze out of here and go break the glad news," said bruce, "he's up there fairly eating his heart out." "the race is on," muttered barney, as they hurried up the bank. "the race is on," echoed the major, a few minutes later, as he walked the floor in high glee. "yes, sir, it is," said barney, "and a good clean race it will be if dave tower is skipper of that submarine. i never knew a squarer fellow." the major, limbering up his wireless instruments, sent a message snap-snapping across the frozen expanse. "what you doing?" asked barney. "just letting that foxy old rival of mine know i got his message and that i'm on the job," chuckled the major. "i'll get off other messages every three hours for a time." "would you mind mentioning my name in the message?" asked barney. "you see, i've got a date for a little jazz with dave up at the pole, and i'd like him to know i'm planning to keep the appointment." the major chuckled again, and included this in his message: "barney menter, pilot." the party at the aleutian station caught the major's second sending of the message. the doctor's face grew gray, as he realized its meaning. "great providence!" he exclaimed. "will he beat me again?" then striking the table with his fist. "he will not! we're crippled by the loss of an important member of our party. he has the swiftest conveyance, but it is not the surest. we will win! we start to-morrow. the race is on!" as for dave, he was more than glad at the prospect of meeting barney at the pole. he was confident that both expeditions would succeed. the only question in his optimistic young mind was, which would arrive first? if his trying could decide it, the sub would get there first. he and barney had been chums since boyhood, but they had been keen competitors in all their play, study and work. now their wits were once more fairly matched. "it's the army and the navy!" he exclaimed. "a fair, square race. and may the best one win." "i might say," remarked the doctor, "that there is a bountiful prize offered to the first person who next reaches the pole, and who brings back three witnesses who can make readings of latitude and longitude to testify to the facts. should we win, the prize will go to you and the crew." "i'll go tell them," said dave, donning his cap. a moment later the doctor heard cheers which sounded like: "rah! rah! rah for doctor! rah! rah! rah for the north pole!" the race was on! her secret service days over for the present, the "sub" had been given a coat of black paint. now, as she scudded through the dark waters of behring sea, dave, standing in the conning-tower, thought how much she must resemble a whale. during the war many a leviathan of the deep had met death because he resembled a submarine. now, in peace times, in this feeding ground of the greatest of all prey, the tables might be turned, the submarine taken for whale. the race was on. across behring sea they sped through foam-flecked waves and driving mists. pausing only a day at nome, they pushed on past port clarence, rounded cape prince of wales, and entered boldly into the great unknown, the arctic ocean. a million wild fowl, returning to the southland, shot away over their heads. here and there they saw little brown seals bob out of the water to stare at them. once they ran a race with a great white bear, and again they sighted a school of whales. they gave these a wide berth, for should they grow friendly and mix their great flippers with the sub's propeller, trouble would follow. walrus, too, were avoided, for they had a playful habit of bumping the under-surface of any craft they might chance to meet. at last, far to the north there appeared a glaring white line. they had reached the ice. their days of merry sailing on the surface were well-nigh over. from this time on life would be spent in stuffy, steel-lined, electric-lighted compartments. but for all that, it would not be so bad. openings in the floes would offer them opportunities to rise for a breath of fresh air, and dangers seemed few enough, since the ocean everywhere was deep, and ice-bergs, sinking dangerously to a great depth below the surface, were few. only the piles of ice and great six-foot-thick pans would make a white roof to the ocean, which was not without its advantage, for here the water would always be delightfully calm. shutting off the engines, dropping the funnel, closing the hatch, they sank quickly beneath the water's surface, and were soon passing below a marvelous panorama of lights and shadow. through the thick glass of the observation windows there flooded tints varying from pale-blue to ultramarine and deep purple. no sunset could vie with the color schemes that kaleidoscoped above them. here a great pile of ancient ice gave the whole a reddish tinge; and here a broad pan of transparent new ice cast down the deep-blue of the sky; and again a thicker floe admitted a light as mellow as expert decorators could have devised. "it's wonderful!" murmured the doctor. chapter vii a strange people ten hours after the start of the submarine, dave tower's eye anxiously watched the dial which indicated a rapidly lessening supply of oxygen, while his keenly appraising mind measured time in terms of oxygen supply. they were still scudding along beneath that continuous kaleidoscopic panorama of green and blue lights and shadows, but no one noticed the beauty of it now. all eyes were strained on the plate-glass windows above, and they looked but for one thing--a spot, black as night itself, which would mean open water above. "there it is to starboard!" exclaimed the doctor. careful backing and steering to starboard brought merely the disclosure that the doctor's eye-strain had developed to the point where it produced optical illusions. the oxygen was all this time dwindling. to avoid further waste of time, dave told his first mate to close his eyes for three minutes while he kept watch, then to open them and "spell" him at the watch. "straight ahead! quick!" muttered the mate, as the dial hung fluttering at zero. seizing a lever here and there, watching this gauge, then that one, dave sent the craft slanting upward. like some dark sea monster seeking air, the "sub" shot toward the opening. and now--now the prow tilted through space. another lever and another, and she balanced for a second on the surface. for a second only, then came a crash. too much eagerness, too great haste, had sent the conning-tower against the solid six-foot floe. with lips straight and white dave grasped two levers at once. the craft shot backward. there followed a sickening grind which could only tell of interference with the propeller. too quick a reverse had sent it against the ice astern. shutting off all power, dave allowed her to rise silently to the surface. then, as silently, one member of the crew opened the hatch and they all filed out. "propeller's still there," breathed one of the gobs in relief. "'fraid that won't help," said dave. "jarvis," he said, turning to the engineer, "go below and start her up at lowest speed." in a moment there followed a jangling grind. the engineer reappeared. "as i feared, sir," he reported. "it's the shaft, sir. she'll have to go to shore for repairs. only a hot fire and heavy hammering can fix her. can't be done on board or on the ice." "ashore!" dave rubbed his forehead, pulled his forelock, and tried to imagine which way land might be after ten hours of travel in the uncharted waters of the great arctic sea. "i'll leave it to you, jarvis," he smiled. "if you can locate land, and show us how to get there across these piles of ice with a disabled submarine, you shall have a medal from the national geographic society." the engineer was not a gob, strictly speaking. he was an old english seaman, who had often sailed the arctic in a whaler. now he went below with the words: "i'll find the nearest land, right enough, me lad; but as to gittin' there, that's quite another matter." thereafter the engineer might be seen from time to time dashing up the hatchway to take an observation, then back to the chart-table, where he examined first this chart, then that one. some of the charts were new, just from the hands of the hydrographic bureau. these belonged to the craft. others were soiled and torn; patched here and there, or reinforced by cloth from a discarded shirt. these belonged to jarvis, himself; had been with him on many a journey and were now most often consulted. "near's h'i can make it, sir," he said, at last, "we're some two hundred miles from point hope on the alaska shores and a bit farther from a point on the russian shore, which the natives call on-na-tak, though what the place is like h'i can't say, never 'aving been there. far's h'i know, no white man's been there, h'either; leastwise, not in our generation." he studied the charts and made one further observation: "far's h'i can tell, sir," he smiled, "on-na-tak's h'our only chance. current sets that way h'at three knots an hour. that means we'll drift there in four or five days. there'll be driftwood on the beach, and, with good luck, we can fix 'er up there. mayhap there's coal in the banks by the sea, and that's greater luck for us if there is." the doctor, who had sat all this time in silence, smoking his black cigars, now rose and began pacing the deck. "four or five days? four or five, did you say? great creation! that will mean the losing of the race!" jarvis nodded his head. "h'anything less would mean that and more," said the old engineer. "going down with such a shaft would mean death to all of us." the doctor sighed. "we can't help it, i suppose--but it's a cruel blow." "there's many a break in a long airplane voyage anywhere," he consoled himself, "and i think the chances for accidents in the arctic are about trebled. i don't wish our rivals any fatal catastrophe, but a little tough luck--say a wing demolished; or an engine burned out--might not be so much to my displeasure." the days that followed were spent in various ways. hunting seals and polar bears was something of an out-the-way pleasure for seafaring men. then there were checkers and cards, besides the daily guess as to their position at noon. strangely enough, for once in the history of arctic currents, they found themselves being carried where they wanted to go, in a direct line for point on-na-tak, and during the entire four days and a half there was hardly a point's deviation from the course. on the evening of the fourth day, dave thought he sighted land, and the midnight watch reported definitely that there was land to the port bow; two points, one more easily discerned than the other. this news brought the whole crew on deck. and for two hours there was wild speculation as to the nature of the country ahead of them; the possibility of inhabitants and their treatment of strangers. azazruk, the eskimo, thought that he had heard from an old man of his tribe that the point was inhabited by a people who spoke a different language from that spoken by the chukches of east cape and whaling, on the russian side of behring strait. but of this he could not be sure. if the old engineer knew anything of these shores other than the facts he had already stated concerning wood and coal, he did not venture to say. and no one asked. so they drifted on until the bleak, snow-capped peaks showed plainly. morning revealed a bay lying between the two points. toward the entrance to this bay they were drifting. one obstacle remained between them and land. a half mile of the floe in which they were drifting lay between them and the black stretch of open water which extended to the edge of the solid shore ice, upon which the submarine might be dragged and over which the shaft might be carried to land. but how was that stretch of tumbled icefloe to be crossed? this, indeed, was a problem. it was finally decided that dave and the old engineer should spend the forenoon exploring the ice to landward for a possible narrow channel that would open a way to the water beyond. for this journey they took only field-glasses, alpine staffs and a lunch in a sealskin sack. had they known better the nature of the land they were about to visit, they might have gone more fully equipped. "h'i don't mind tell' y', lad, that we was 'eaded for this point way back some'ers in the late nineties," said the engineer, "but there come a nor'wester, an' the cap'in, 'e lost 'is 'ead and turned to run. we'd froze in for the winter, but we'd a seen things if we 'ad. we'd a seen 'um." they were struggling over some pressure ridges and neither had breath to spare for further talk just then. but presently, as they paused on a high ridge of ice for a survey of their surroundings, jarvis said: "h'i said back there they might be coal in the banks. there is, an' other minerals there are 'ere, too. h'it's a rich land, an' now we're 'ere we'd make our fortunes if that daffy doctor wasn't 'eaded straight fer the pole, an' nobody 'ere to stop 'im." "what do you make of it?" dave, who had been studying the shore with the glass, handed it to jarvis: "do you see something like a village?" "sure i do!" exclaimed the other excitedly. "sure, there's a village, a 'ole 'eap of bloomin' 'eathen live up 'ere, h'only they hain't dull and stupid like them down below." "it's a strange-looking village." "sure, it is. made all of reindeer skins and walrus pelts. sure it's different. them natives up 'ere 'ave got reindeer, 'erds and 'erds of 'em." "i suppose they've got walrus ivory, too," said dave, warming to the subject. "ho, yes, walrus h'ivory a-plenty, them 'eathen 'ave got. but walrus h'ivory hain't so much. too 'eavy to make a good cargo, an' not 'alf so good as h'elephant h'ivory. but there's minerals, 'eaps of minerals, an' we'd all be rich men an' it wasn't for the bloomin' doctor." no channel to the shore having appeared, they were now making their way along the edge of the open water. suddenly the old engineer started: "did you see 'im?" he whispered. "what? where?" dave stared at the old man, thinking he had suddenly lost his head. "h'it was a man. 'e popped 'is 'ead out, then beat it. one o' them bloomin' 'eathens." "probably we'd better turn back." "huh!" sniffed the old man. "'oo cares for the bloomin' 'eathen? 'armless they is, 'armless as babies." they continued their travel, but the old man seemed distinctly uneasy. he saw heads here and there. and soon, dave, who did not have the trained eye of the seaman, saw one also. at once he decided that they must turn back to the submarine. hardly had they taken this course, when heads seemed to be peering out at them from every ice-pile. it was when they were crossing a broad, flat pan that matters came to a crisis. suddenly brown, fur-clad figures emerged from the piles at the edge of the pan and approached them. their soft, rawhide boots made no sound on the ice. their lips were ominously silent. there was a sinister gleam to the spears which they bore. half-way to the men, at a sign from the leader, they all paused. then a little knot gathered about the leader. three men did the greater part of the talking. they appeared to be urging the leader to action. dave, who knew that the old seaman was acquainted with several native dialects, said: "what do you make of it?" "can't get 'em straight," said jarvis. "but them three 'eathen that's talkin' loudest, them's 'eathen from another tribe 'er somethin'. they're not the right color. their eyes hain't right an' they don't speak the language right. i think they got it in their 'eads that we h'ought ter be pinched fer trespassin' 'er somethin' the like. but we'll fight the bloomin' 'eathen, we will, h'if they start a bloomin' rumpus." "what with?" smiled dave. the old seaman looked nonplused for a moment. "ho, well," he grinned, then. "can't be any 'arm in goin' with the bloomin' idgits a piece, h'if they request it." the horde of natives did, at last, request it in a rather forceful and threatening way. the three men, whom jarvis had singled out as "'eathen from another tribe," became so insulting that dave could scarcely restrain jarvis from braining their leader on the spot. they were led to the edge of the ice-floe where, hidden in a remote corner, was an oomiak, a native boat of skins. from here they were quickly paddled over to the shore. they were then led up a steep bank, down a street lined with innumerable dome-like houses covered with walrus-skin, and were finally dragged into the largest of these houses and rudely thrust into an inner room. the door slammed, and jarvis laughed. "humph!" he chuckled. "fancy putting a man in a bloomin' jail made of deer skin. much 'ead as the bloomin' 'eathen 'ave. let's 'ave a look at 'er." he scratched a match and the look of astonishment that dave found on his face, as he stared about the inclosure, caused him to laugh, in spite of their dilemma. "h'ivory, walrus h'ivory! walls, floor and ceilin' all h'ivory. who'd ever thought of that!" muttered the old seaman. "wood'll burn and iron'll rust; but h'ivory! h'ivory! who'd ever thought of that for a prison?" chapter viii the walrus hunt meanwhile, on the ice-locked shores of great bear lake, preparations for departure were being made by the airplane party. the gasoline must all be strained through a chamois-skin to insure them against water in the engines, and this, with the temperature at thirty to forty below, was no mean task. there was a careful selection of foodstuffs to be taken along. it was decided also that the five dogs should go, for they would provide transportation, in case of accident, and could be killed and eaten as a last resort. the entire equipment was given a thorough overhauling. all this took three days of arduous toil. when, at last, all was in readiness, and the earth began to drop away beneath them, the dogs put their noses in the air and chorused a canine arctic dirge. but their howls were lost in the noise of the engines. as for the boys, their cheeks burned. truly, this was to be their greatest adventure--"an adventure quite worthy the heart of a true soldier," as the major had expressed it. many problems they left behind unsolved, but these were quite crowded out of their minds by the one supreme problem: would they reach the pole, and would they reach it first? somewhere on the shores of melville bay, near the banks of melville island, frozen in the ice for the winter, was the little gasoline schooner which had engaged to furnish them fuel for the last lap of the journey north and the return. the gas would cost a pretty penny, to be sure, for it would compel the trader to return to nome earlier than he had intended doing, but money seemed no object to the zealous explorer. setting their course a little east of north, they shot directly away. bruce, who was driving, settled back easily in his place. the machine was soaring beautifully. the engines worked in perfect time. everything promised a safe and speedy trip. now and again a belated flock of snow-geese, as if drawn by an invisible thread, shot by them; and now, far below, they caught sight of moving brown specks, which told of caribou still passing southward from the summer pasture in the unexplored lands far to the north. the fleeting panorama was of constantly changing interest and beauty. soon they left the land behind. they were passing over prince albert sound. its surface was already white with ice. land again, then melville sound--last lap on this three hundred mile journey. bruce found himself unable to believe they were over a great body of salt water. surely these squares, rising from the surface, white and glistening in the moonlight, were village roofs covered with snow. surely, these other squares lying flat upon the surface were town lots, and the broader ones stretches of field and meadow, where grain would ripen in summer and flowers bloom. and the spots of open water, made black by the whiteness about them, were fishing-ponds where one might lazily dip his line and dream. but as he shook himself back into reality, a startling question had come to him. his lips put it in words. "how are we going to tell that schooner when we see it?" he barked through the major's telephone. "won't she be buried in snow?" "probably will," admitted the major, "but there's sure to be a native village near by, and though their houses are built of snow, they always have a litter of black things about--sleds, hunting implements, skins, and the like. we can't miss it." "natives. m-m-m," bruce mumbled. "nagyuktogmiut, or something like that. hope the white man happens to be about when we land. i've read stefansson's account of them. they treated him all right, but when old thunderbird, his own self, brings them some white men, they may not be so glad to see them, and those chaps have copper-pointed spears and arrows, not to speak of rifles." "the indians didn't bother us," phoned back the major. "that's right. well, i hope this is our lucky day." bruce again gave his whole attention to driving. then, as they made out in the distance some high elevations, that might be land or might be clouds, he dropped to a lower level and scanned the surface of the ice for a black spot which would tell of human habitations. the village, he knew, might be fifty miles from land, for these eskimos lived on the ocean's roof during the entire winter and hunted seal and great-seal, moving only now and again when game became scarce. "there they are, over to the right," he exclaimed presently. he set his machine in the general direction indicated. soon a black patch began to appear among the lights and shadows. surely here was the village they sought. the realization set his heart thumping violently. "drop in close and look for a landing." the major twisted in his seat and scanned the ice narrowly as he spoke. "just beyond them seems to be a broad flat pan. looks safe. try it" bruce cut off his engines and began circling down. it was the dead of night. apparently every person about the village was asleep. now he could distinguish sleds and skins hung on ice-piles to dry. now he located the double rows of dome houses. they were going to pass right over these, but high enough to miss them. then, rapidly, things happened. a vagrant current of wind seized them and they "bumped" in air. the next instant it was evident that a crash was inevitable. they were swooping straight down upon a row of snow-domes. but the machine was heavy, the snow-houses, mere shells, without the sign of a shock, yielding to the compact, went spinning away in little bits, revealing scores of sleepers snug beneath their deerskins. they had awakened bedlam. men shouted, women and children screamed, dogs barked. "like knocking over a bee-hive," chuckled barney. bruce, with a remarkably cool head, brought his machine to the smooth surface beyond. in a moment she was slowing up to a perfect landing. "quick! the machine-gun!" exclaimed barney. bruce gave one startled look behind them, then began working feverishly. already barney and the major were unstrapping themselves. across the ice in the vague moonlight a motley throng, a hundred strong, was charging down upon them. half-naked, their brown arms gleaming, they seemed the inhabitants of some south sea isle rather than eskimos of the farthest north. copper-pointed spears gleamed yellow and gold, while here and there the dark barrel of a hunting rifle was to be seen. "go slow," warned the major. "remember it's men, women and children instead of wolves this time. they're wild, but they're human. send a volley into the ice-piles at the left. show 'em what you've got and they'll stop--perhaps." as bruce turned the barrel of his deadly weapon, he caught the low rumble of many voices. the natives were chanting a witching song to destroy the power of evil spirits. "tat-tat-tat-tat." the machine-gun spoke. bits of ice flew wildly. the mob halted for a moment, then plunged on, still chanting that maddening song. just at the moment when a massacre seemed inevitable, there came a roar from the right. turning, bruce saw the form of a bearded man apparently rising from a hole in a giant ice-cake. at the sound the wild mob halted. "hey! you fellows!" the stranger bellowed. "what's the matter with you?" then he turned to the natives and began to harangue them in a tongue quite unknown even to the major. the instant bruce saw the red-whiskered giant rise, seemingly from the ocean, his hand relaxed on the machine-gun and he stood in ready expectation. the eskimos appeared to understand the words which the stranger flung at them, for, though they continued their weird incantation, they lowered their weapons and did not attempt to approach nearer the white men. presently their weapons began clattering to the ice. taking this as a sign of friendliness, the explorers stepped out to meet them. seeing this, the natives gathered into a compact group, their song rising to a wild humming howl, but they made no move to attack. when the strangers were quite close, one native, braver than his companions, stepped forward. still chanting, he handed each explorer a small cube of whale blubber. one cube remained in his own hand. this he proceeded to swallow, indicating at the same time that the strangers were to follow his example. the moment the cubes disappeared the wild chorus ceased and the natives crowded forward to extend a hearty welcome. it was, however, a very long time before one of them was persuaded to come near the airplane. "i haven't a doubt," said the major, "that they still believe that we rode here on the back of old thunder-bird himself. and why not? if we can build schooners many times as large as their largest skin-boats and run them by noise alone, if we can kill at a distance by a magic of great noises, why couldn't we tame the thunder-bird himself and make him carry us? it is my firm conviction that if one of us were to return here in a year or two, he would hear the most outlandish tales of the kabluna who rode the thunder-bird." the natives had returned to their camp to dress and to repair the damage done by the airplane. the white men were approaching what appeared to be the den of the bearded stranger, when the major gave a cry of joy: "masts! boys, we have finished the first lap of our journey. the den of the stranger is the cabin to his schooner. he is the trader who is to furnish us gasoline!" the major's surmise proved to be correct, and they were soon sitting happily around a rough galley table, sipping at steaming "mulligan"--a rich arctic stew--and coffee. "and now," said the major, "for a few hours of sleep. after that your time is your own for twelve hours." "twelve hours!" exclaimed bruce in surprise. "don't we start for the pole at once?" "young gentlemen," said the major smiling, "your enthusiasm is gratifying in the extreme. but flying, especially in high latitudes, is very trying on the nerves--even such nerves as yours. remember that in the arctic, where anything at all is liable to happen at a moment's notice, we must always be at our best. so get some relaxation. what will you do with your twelve hours?" "i heard a walrus barking a half-hour ago!" exclaimed barney eagerly. "i'm for a walrus hunt," agreed bruce. "good! that will stretch your legs a bit," said the major. "but don't go too far, nor take too many chances. remember you have a mission to accomplish here in the north." the three adventurers were soon sleeping soundly in the bunks of the gussie brown, and far away, bobbing his head through a water-hole and shaking the icicles from his moustache, a great bull-walrus barked at the moon. when they awoke from dreamless slumber, the boys' first thought was of the promised walrus hunt. they scrambled into their fur garments, and hurrying to the surface of the floe, listened for the hoarse call of their quarry, the walrus. they did not have to wait long. "there he barks!" exclaimed bruce, putting his hand to his ear. "and again," barney hurried below to secure a native harpoon and skin-rope. bruce provided himself with a high-power magazine rifle. "we're off!" barney shouted joyously to the major, as he gulped down a cup of steaming coffee and took a last bite of sour-dough bread. "good luck! and may you come back!" bantered the major. had he known how real was his jesting prophecy of danger, he would not have joked. as a rule, walrus-hunting in the arctic is not a sport, it is a task--the day's work of providing food for a village. it is as exciting as the "hog-killing day" of a middle-west farmer. the hog may run amuck of the farmer, and so may the walrus of the hunter; the chances are about equal. the walrus seldom shows fight. before he is harpooned, he either is quite indifferent to the presence of the hunter, or slips away to the water at sight of him. if harpooned, he makes every effort to escape, and only in rare instances shows fight. the boys had been told all this by the trader over their coffee the night before. it was evident, then, that they must slip up on their prey without being seen. this would be a comparatively simple matter, since the tumbled ridges of ice afforded ideal hiding-places. when close enough, barney, who was the stronger of the two, was to drive the harpoon-point through the thick skin of the creature. this harpoon-point was fastened to a rawhide rope. he must instantly drive a copper-pointed lance into the ice, and wrapping the skin-rope about it, close to the ice-surface, hold on like grim death until bruce dispatched the creature with his rifle. wherever the beast was, in a small water-hole kept opened by himself, or a larger one formed by the shifting floes, their success would depend on barney's ability to keep the rope free from jagged edges which might cut it, and bruce's skill at quickly getting in a fatal shot. at regular intervals the walrus must rise for air, and this would give the opportunity for bruce to get in his work. "he's a moose!" whispered bruce, as they crept close to the rather broad waters-hole and eyed the creature through a crack between upended ice-cakes. "tusks two feet and a half long! must weigh a ton and a half!" already barney felt his muscles ache from the strain. "well, here's for it!" he exclaimed, coiling his skin-rope. the next instant there came a loud thwack, which told that the boy's shaft had found its mark. instantly there was a hoarse bellow and then a wild splashing in the water. bruce was at the top of a pressure ridge, ready for action. barney had made his shaft secure, but then there came a strain that made the veins stand out on his forehead. suddenly the strain slackened. "be ready! he's coming--" barney did not finish, for from the churning water the walrus thrust his massive head, snorting and foaming. the rifle cracked. silently the great creature sank, but this time the foaming water showed a fleck of red where the walrus disappeared. "got him!" cried bruce triumphantly. but this time the strain on the lance was redoubled. "try--try to hit a vital--vital spot," panted barney, as the strain lessened once more. "behind front flipper--in the eye." again the water foamed. again the rifle cracked. more blood! another plunge, and again the strain seemed redoubled. "i--can't--hold much--longer," barney gasped. springing down from the pinnacle, bruce ran to the edge of the pool, and, leaping upon a floating ice-cake, waited again. this time his aim was better. the strain when the walrus sank was not so great. "doing fine," breathed barney. "next time we'll--" again he did not finish, for, unexpectedly, his friend shot up in the air, to fall sprawling upon the cake of ice and cling there while it tilted to an angle of forty-five degrees. the walrus had risen beneath the cake and split it in two. bruce was stunned by his fall, but barney's warning cry roused him. one glance revealed his perilous position. the piece of ice to which he clung had been thrust toward the center of the pool. even now the gap was too wide for him to leap. to plunge into the water, with the thermometer forty below, was to court death. while he hesitated, the walrus rose to the surface. with a bellow that sprayed bloody foam about him, he charged the cake of ice. if ever there was need for a cool brain, it was now. bruce, gripping his rifle, crouched and waited. reaching the cake, the walrus hooked his tusks over its edge till it tilted to a perilous angle. bruce's feet shot from under him, but by a quick movement he caught the upper edge of the ice. pulling himself up till he could brace his feet, he took steady aim at the beast's wild and bloodshot eye. it was a perfect shot. the walrus, crumpling, began to sink into the water. seeing this, bruce clung to the cake until the tusk slipped off. in another moment the uncertain raft was at rest. "well, we got him," he panted, sitting limply on the ice. "but for mine in the future, give me the cozy dangers of aviation. i don't see much relaxation in this game." the ice-cake soon drifted so that bruce could jump ashore. with their combined efforts the boys were able to draw the dead walrus close in and tie him securely to the ice edge. then they returned to camp to send a happy band of natives out for the meat and blubber. "that head will make a fine trophy to hang in the front parlor of that five-room bungalow," laughed barney, as a native brought it in that night. "you may have it for your den," said bruce with a shiver. "i never want to look a walrus in the face again." "to-morrow," said the major, as they prepared to retire, "the race will be resumed." chapter ix fighting their way out a careful examination of their "ivory jail" showed dave and the submarine engineer that they were in a narrow chamber completely lined with walrus tusks. the tusks had been so ingeniously cut and fitted that only the grain of the glistening surface told where one tusk joined another. as for the door, so closely was it fitted that it was not to be located at all. in two corners were seal-oil lamps. these had feed-pipes of some form of dried sea-weeds. they could thus be fed from without. two narrow openings, strongly barred with ivory tusks, one in the floor and one in the ceiling, permitted air to enter, but one peered through them into utter darkness. "tain't no wonder they left us our knives," grumbled jarvis. "the bloomin' 'eathen knowed we'd wear 'em away before we made any h'impression on that ivory. but mind you, lad, this hain't the work of no bloomin' 'eathen--not no regular 'eathen it hain't. 'e hain't smart enough for that, your regular 'eathen hain't. 'twas some one else, it was. shouldn't be surprised if it was them three strangers." as for dave, he was worried less about himself than about his companions out in the bay. knowing the growing impatience of the doctor, he was prepared to expect him to attempt anything in case of their prolonged absence. should he try to submerge the craft to bring her to land under the ice, it was an even chance every one on board would perish miserably--caught in the sunken "sub." that he and jarvis might be kept prisoners indefinitely seemed certain, for after some five or six hours, food was thrust in to them and they were left, apparently for the night. the food consisted of boiled fish and liver, probably walrus liver, soaked in rank seal oil. they ate a little fish and thrust the liver through the opening in the floor, the better to escape its nauseating odor. "h'i'd die before h'i'd h'eat 'is bloomin' victuals," snarled jarvis contemptuously, "that bloomin' 'eathen!" he began poking about the narrow confines of the jail. not being able to see to suit himself, he struck a match and touched it to the mass, placed on the edge of a brimming seal-oil lamp, in lieu of a wick. immediately a line of fire was kindled and its light, reflected again and again by the dazzling whiteness of their prison walls, made the whole place as light as day. at once jarvis gave a cry of surprise and began crawling toward the farthest side. "h'i told you there was minerals," he exclaimed. "e's a rich un, this bloomin' 'eathen. h'it's gold, h'i'll be blowed!" he began digging away with his knife at some yellow spots in the ivory. they were bits of inlaid gold. "what's the idea?" asked dave in surprise. "are all prisons up here made of ivory inlaid with gold?" "y' can't tell, lad. 'e's a queer one, the bloomin' 'eathen, and if h'i be 'anged," sputtered jarvis, "what's one pole more or less, when you've gold calling to come and take it. what--" he paused, his mouth agape, words unsaid. the door of the ivory den had been softly opened, and framed in it were the dark, crafty faces of the three natives who had brought about their captivity and imprisonment. in their hands gleamed knives with long blades of a curious oriental type. * * * * * but we must return to the doctor and his crew of gobs who had been left on the submarine. when the young captain and his chief engineer did not return at sunset, deep concern for their safety was felt. three searching parties were sent out, while, from time to time, flares were lighted to show them the way to the submarine, should they chance to have lost their directions on the ice-floe. the flares guided the searching parties back to the boat, but so far as finding trace of the missing ones was concerned, neither flares nor searchers were of any avail. in the meantime, the doctor paced the deck anxiously. they were losing valuable time. if only they could find a way to shore, the damaged shaft might be repaired and, during the interval, the captain and engineer would doubtless turn up. at the first hint of dawn the watch discovered a lead half-way through the ice-floe. at once the doctor ordered the submarine run into this narrow channel. the result was what might have been expected; the ice closed in and the "sub" was locked in the center of the floe. there remained but one way it could move--down, under the ice. otherwise, it might drift indefinitely in this solid mass of ice. they would be carried away from the bay, away from their friends, and all hope of rescuing them would be lost. it was, indeed, a terrible plight. just at this time a bright young gob, tom rainey, came forward with an ingenious scheme. the "sub" carried a sufficient length of steel cable to reach to the farther edge of the ice-floe. why, he reasoned, might they not pole this cable beneath the rather loosely-joined ice masses until they reached the open water, then submerge the submarine and, with a capstan, drag it like a hooked trout to the channel. it was a wild scheme, but the doctor was in a mood for anything. the crew were set to work at once, cutting holes in the ice-floes here and there and passing the cable from opening to opening. it was slow and freezing work, but in time the job was done. when the cable was ready, the doctor insisted that a sufficient crew be aboard the submarine when she submerged to man her in case she broke loose. this was, indeed, a hazardous mission, but volunteers were not lacking. and, with all speed, the trial was made. the scheme worked better than they had dared to hope. when the "sub" passed from beneath the ice-floe, the second engineer in his superabundance of joy hazarded a few turns of the disabled shaft. this set the whole craft vibrating and drove her half-way across the narrow channel. as the submarine rose to the surface the doctor saw a dark shadow pass over the glass window at the top. at the same time he felt a slight jar. "must have tilted a small cake of ice," he chuckled. then, as he lifted the hatch: "by jove! no, it wasn't. it was a skin-boat full of natives! there they are in the water! watch them scramble back into their boat. if we had a safer power, we'd go to their rescue. but they'll be all right. now, they're all aboard." that the natives were in a frenzy of fear while in the water, the doctor attributed to their dread of attack by a walrus. but when they began paddling away at top speed, he opened his eyes in wonder. "ah, well!" he said, at last, "who'd marvel at that? ships are not in the habit of coming up out of the sea in the arctic. and now i wonder--i just wonder, did they have anything to do with the disappearance of our friend dave and the engineer?" when all hands were on board lunch was served. by the time this was over the submarine had drifted to the solid shore-ice. she was at once tied up with the aid of ice-anchors, and preparations made for dragging her out of the water. "but first," said the doctor, "let us visit our friends, 'the bloomin' 'eathen,' as jarvis styles them." it was a strange sight that met their gaze as they entered the village. men, women and children, with a wild wail, threw themselves flat on their stomachs, uttering the most melancholy moans that ever came from human lips. interspersed with the cries were apparent appeals addressed to the visitors. "what's all this rumpus?" the doctor demanded of azazruk, the eskimo. "can you understand their jargon?" "they say," said the eskimo, showing his white teeth in a grin, "that they know we are spirits--spirits of dead whales, since we come out of a whale's back, that came up from under the sea. they say not kill them us please. they say this that one. they say, kill plenty whale that one chief native. they say, fire for spirit of dead whale not make that, them. they say that, this one native. but they say not kill them and for sure they make fire, sing song for spirit of dead whale." the doctor, who understood this to be one of the superstitions of the natives, and knew that they had taken the submarine for a whale, began to laugh. but at once he checked himself. turning a scowling face at the only two standing natives, one of whom had a fresh cut across his cheek, he stormed: "and why have these fellows no shame? tell them to fall down at once, or i will step on them." azazruk repeated the message, and, surprised and frightened, the two men obeyed. the doctor eyed the two curiously for a moment as they lay there squinting up at him, their slant eyes gleaming with suppressed anger. "look like they'd been in a fight," he remarked. and so they did. the darker of the two had the cut on his cheek, before mentioned, his fur parka was torn half off him, displaying some ugly bruises. his companion had lost half a sleeve and his right hand was bleeding. "they're surely rascals, but you must play the good samaritan at all times," he said, as he bent over one of them. "rainey, get my case from the locker, will you?" rainey hurried to the submarine, a half mile away, while the natives, still half sprawling on the frozen earth, eyed the hardier fellows, while the doctor bent over them, as if expecting at any moment to see them drop dead as a result of the magic power of these great spirits from the belly of a whale. it was jarvis and dave who were responsible for the condition of the two natives of the strange bearing. when jarvis saw their ugly faces and gleaming knives at the door of the ivory prison he was ready for a fight. his face turned purple, as he muttered between clinched teeth: "h'it's our chance. 'ere's where h'i make a killin'. at 'em dave!" and, led by his sturdy engineer, dave hove at them right royally. their knives were short but their arms long, and as for skill, there were no better trained men in the army than dave and jarvis. they made quick work of it. the "bloomin' 'eathen," surprised by the sudden onslaught, were on their backs in a trice. two of them fared as i have said, and as for the third, he came out with a head so badly pummeled by jarvis' fist that he was content to crawl into a dark igloo and stay there. once outside the prison jarvis and dave glanced quickly about them for a hiding-place. much to their surprise, they did not see a native about the village. made bold by this, they skirted the rear of the last row of huts, and, dodging down a snowed-in ravine, hid at last in the ice-heaps not twenty rods from the submarine. not being aware, however, that their friends had succeeded in reaching the shore-ice, they crouched in their icy shelter, their teeth chattering from cold and excitement. jarvis had an ugly slash on his right arm. dave had just succeeded in binding this up when they heard footsteps approaching. jamming themselves hard into a crevice of ice, jarvis whispered: "h'i'll fight t' a finish before h'i go back to that white prison of the bloomin' 'eathen." dave made no response. the steps came nearer, then began to die away. "didn't sound like the bloomin' 'eathen," muttered jarvis. "no near's soft and glidin'. 'ere 'e comes back. h'i'll 'ave a look." creeping close to a corner, he peered cautiously out, then with a roar: "blime me, it's rainey!" he sprang from concealment, almost embracing the young gob in his delight. it was a joyful meeting that took place between the united parties. when jarvis saw the doctor working over the disabled natives he roared first with laughter, then with anger. his last desire was to put them out of the way at once. "for, sir," he argued, "them hain't no natural, ordinary 'eathen, indeed not, sir. they are the very h'old nick 'isself, sir." but dave suggested putting them in their own ivory prison, and this advice prevailed. after their wounds were dressed they were thrust in and the door barred from without. wiser men than the "sub" crew have learned that a man is seldom safe in a prison of his own making, but the sailors never gave the prisoners another thought. "rainey," said the engineer, as he found himself alone with the young gob, "we'll all be rich men." "how?" asked his companion. "there's mineral! mineral! gold, me lad, tons of it!" the older man's wrinkled face caught the tints of the sunset and seemed to take on the hue of the metal of which he spoke. chapter x to the treasure city once all the members of the submarine party were reunited, their one thought was to repair their damaged craft as soon as possible and start again on their way to the pole. perhaps the engineer wasted a thought now and again on the supposed great mineral wealth of that peninsula, but if he did, he said nothing. the men were divided into three groups. the first, the mechanics, undertook the task of removing the shaft; the second guarded the craft against possible attack by the natives, while the third was dispatched up the beach to search for firewood which the mechanics must have. the work of the guard seemed a joke. not one of the natives could be induced to approach the dark "spirit-whale" which some of their comrades had seen rise from the water. even after the steel shaft had been brought ashore as tangible evidence that the craft was a thing of metal, they could not be induced to approach it. the wood hunters found their task a hard one, for, either there never had been much driftwood on these shores, or the natives had used it for summer camp-fires. they searched far down the bay without finding a sufficient quantity to make "a decent fire over which to roast 'hot-dogs'," as rainey expressed it. but as the engineer rounded a point, he suddenly exclaimed; "there! ain't h'i been sayin' hit! i 'ates to think 'ow jolly stupit som'ums of ye are." he was pointing to the banks which overhung the sea. the men, who were looking only for driftwood, did not at first see the cause of his exclamation. "coal, my lads!" jarvis exclaimed, half beside himself. "coal cropping from the bank!" it was true. a careful examination showed a four-foot vein of soft coal. it was not long until reindeer sleds, secured from the natives, were drawing quantities of the fuel to a point beneath a cliff, where a crude forge had been made out of granite rock. while this work was going on, the engineer disappeared in the direction of the village. in a half-hour he came tearing back, his face red with rage. "they're h'out!" he sputtered. "the bally, blithering unnatural 'eathen hev flew the h'ivory coops. t'was to be expected. i 'ates t' think what h'i'd a-done, 'ad h'i 'ad the say of it." "oh, well," said the doctor, who was inclined to take jarvis' quarrel with the natives rather lightly, "in twenty-four hours we'll be away from these shores never to return." "return?" exclaimed jarvis. "h'i'll return, an' dave 'ere'll return. we'll be rich men, we'll be. i 'ates t' think 'ow rich 'im an' me'll be!" but the doctor was too busy hurrying the mechanics in their repairs to heed the words of the excited engineer. finally the forge was ready and as by the arctic moonlight a black smoke rose higher and higher above the cliffs, and a fire blazed a thousand times larger and hotter than that black shore had ever known, the natives appeared to grow more and more certain that these men who came up from the depths of the sea were, indeed, the spirits of all the dead whales that they and their forefathers before them had killed. they looked on in silent awe. it was with the greatest difficulty that jarvis succeeded in finding one of them who was able to speak the chukche language of behring strait, a language that was understood by azazruk, the eskimo. when, at last, he did find a man who knew chukche and who was not too frightened to talk, he plied him with many questions. "who were the three strange-appearing natives who had attacked him and his companion in the jail? where did they come from? what were they doing here? how did they happen to have such a strange jail? how did they chance to have a jail at all? where did the gold come from that had been used to inlay the ivory? was there much of it to be found?" these, and many other questions, the engineer put to the trembling native, while, with one eye, he watched the operations of the mechanics who labored by the fire. the man did not know the exact place from which the three strangers had come; it was somewhere far south, known as ki-yek-tuk. the three had been a long time in the village and had inspired all the people with a great dread by telling them of a giant race who wore fierce beards like the walrus; who killed with a great noise at long distances, and who would break any jail except one of ivory. they had said that probably one or two of these fierce men would come at first, and, perhaps, if these were made prisoners, no others would follow. hence the jail. and hence, too, the imprisonment of dave and jarvis. the natives had felt sure that they were the advance guard of these wicked, cruel men who had come to rob and kill. but now, of course, they knew they were spirits of dead whales, and would do them no harm. as for the tusks with the inlaid gold, the man said they had been traded for by a very old man who had made a journey with a reindeer, ten nights and days from their village, due west. there, beside a great river, he had found a numerous people, who lived in houses of logs, very large and warm. he said, too, that these people had great quantities of this yellow metal. their houses were decorated with it; their fur garments glistened with it; their council house was encrusted with it. "but," he added at the end, "the metal was too soft for spear points and arrowheads, too heavy for garments, and not good for food. as for houses, did they not have their deerskins and walrus-pelts? so the old man never went back for more." dave had been sitting by the old engineer as he secured this information bit by bit through the interpreter. his eyes sparkled with excitement when he spoke. "well," he asked, when the native had finished, "what do you make of it?" "make of it?" exclaimed the old man. "it's plain as the nose on your face. h'as h'i see it, there's gold in this land just h'as h'i said before, plenty of it. h'and this 'ere tribe, way west there some'ers; they's been driven there by the roosians, er by other tribes. mayhaps they's roosian h'exiles themselves. mayhaps they's one of the seven lost tribes of h'israel, what you read of in the book. 'owever that may be, it's there, and h'i 'ates to think 'ow rich you h'and h'i'd be h'if h'it wasn't fer this 'ere crazy doctor's achin' to see th' pole." "jarvis," dave leaned forward eagerly, "we'll take the doctor to the pole, then we'll hire a submarine or a schooner and work our way back here." "we will that, me lad," said the old man, gripping the boy's hand. "but then," he added more soberly, "maybe it won't be a bit o' use. maybe the japs will get it first." "the japs." "sure! the japs. ar' ye that blind? don't ye know all the time the three rascals we well-nigh killed was japs? can't ye see 'ow they don't want the h'americans or th' roosians to git t' the treasure of this peninsula? can't ye see 'ow bloomin' easy h'it'd be for 'em to put two or three spies in h'every bloomin' native village on the whole roosian coast, and take the entire peninsula fer th' jap kaiser, or whatever they call 'im? can't ye see 'ow th' thing'd work?" dave sat a long time in thought. at last he decided what to do. "perhaps you're right, jarvis," he said finally, rising. "but our first job is the pole. the shaft must be nearly fitted by now. let's see how they're coming. perhaps we'll be away in the morning." as they rounded a block of ice by the shore, jarvis gave a start and seized his companion by the arm. "d'y' see 'im?" he whispered "'e was starin' h'at us from behint them ice-piles. 'e was a jap. i'll swear it." "aw, you're seeing japs to-night," laughed dave. "ow is she?" jarvis asked of a gob whom they met. "right as they make 'em--now. but i'll say it was some job that. the shaft was twisted something awful--like a corkscrew. but it was some steel, that shaft, and we just het her up an' twisted her straight again. the doc said he guessed it would be a bit short, but when we got her back in place she fitted like paint. then we slid the old boat back in the water and tried her out and she runs like a watch." "grand. we're off in the mornin'." dave and jarvis turned to make their way to the submarine where a single gob, pacing the white ice-surface, had laughed at his job of watching natives who could not be induced to come within a half-mile of him. suddenly the engineer jumped forward. "did y' see that?" jarvis grabbed dave by the arm and urged him into a run. "'e went down--the guard, i saw 'im," panted jarvis. "i saw 'im, then h'i didn't. h'it's the japs. listen!" there came distinctly the sound of a dragging hawser. "h'it's the japs; the blooming bloody 'eathen," jarvis panted. "they're h'after the submarine!" dave dragged him behind an ice-covered boulder. "quick!" he whispered. "if the submarine goes, we go with her, inside or outside, somewhere. we've got to take the chance." darting from ice-pile to ice-pile, they soon reached the water's edge. there lay the guard, unconscious, an ugly bruise on the side of his head. and there lay the submarine, silent and closed. "she's off!" breathed the engineer. it was true. the craft already showed a line of dark water between her and the shore. without hesitation, the old engineer sprang upon her deck and crouched by the conning-tower. instantly dave followed him. their soft skin-boots made no sound. and, as they crouched there, the submarine headed for the channel and then toward the west. "to the treasure city, h'i'll be bound," whispered jarvis. chapter xi a battle beneath the arctic moon "the treasure city" "we'll stick 'ere behint th' connin'-tower," the engineer explained to dave, as the submarine, turning, put off up the dark channel which separated the solid shore-ice from the great drift of ice-floe that lay beyond. "if they submerge," suggested dave, "we'll have a slim chance." "h'i doubt if they understant that much," mumbled the engineer between chattering teeth. "h'anyway, right 'ere's where h'i stick, h'and once th' bloomin' 'eathen show a 'ead above the 'atchway, h'i 'ates t' think what'll 'appen to 'im." "perhaps the channel will close in and drive them ashore," suggested dave hopefully, as he drew his mackinaw more closely about him and crouched nearer to the conning-tower, that he might avoid the cutting air and icy spray which reached him from the prow of the submarine. "mayhap," mumbled the engineer, snuggling close. but the channel did not close. also, the submarine did not submerge; it plowed straight on through the dark waters of the channel. night passed and the pale arctic sun revealed the two figures huddling, half-frozen, behind the conning-tower. daylight brought little comfort, serving only to remind them that they had no coffee for breakfast; indeed, had no breakfast at all. this set the engineer to muttering threats against the stranger who had stolen the submarine, and caused him for the hundredth time to remark: "h'i 'ates t' think what'll 'appen t' 'em, once h'i gets me 'ands on 'em." but the intruders stayed below while, slowly, the sun ran its brief course and then painted the ice-spires with shadows of deep purple. as the night came on, the two men were forced to move about to keep from freezing. tip-toeing along, avoiding heavy glass windows, they conversed in low tones. "we've been h'at h'it now goin' h'on twenty-four 'ours," murmured jarvis. "h'it's two hundred h'an' forty miles, h'an' h'our course u'd be shorter than a reindeer's. h'if that bloomin' 'eathen that spoke of th' treasure city told truth, h'i'm one fer believin' we're nearin' th' spot." jarvis spoke more cheerfully than he had at any time during the strange journey. dave smiled, as he wondered whether this was due to the fact their walk had warmed them somewhat, or his rising hopes that they would at least get to see the fabled treasure city. "tell me," jarvis whispered, "do my h'old h'eyes deceive me, or h'is there a line of dark h'over t' th' right of y'?" his hand trembled as he pointed. dave looked long and earnestly. the moon shone very brightly. the snow brought out dark objects with such vividness that it would not be too much to expect to see large objects twenty miles away. "i think your eyes are all right," he said slowly. "then that 'ud be th' forest by the river. th' treasure city 'ud be just by the 'arbor h'at th' mouth of th' river, dave. h'i 'ates t' think 'ow richer we'll be." the old man gripped dave's hand. as for dave, he was silent. he was thinking first of the struggle that could not now be far distant. it would be a bitter fight, with odds in favor of the other party. however, he hoped the enemy had been weakened by the earlier combat. then he thought of the men they had so unexpectedly left behind; of the doctor who depended upon him, and of the gobs who had served under him, a boy, so faithfully. such thoughts left him in no mood to think of treasure. he was about to say as much to his companion when there came a rattle at the hatch of the sub. quickly he and the engineer crouched behind the conning-tower. their breath coming hard, their hearts beating fast, they waited. the throbbing of the engine stopped. the submarine glided silently on. the deathlike stillness was ended by the dull groan of a hatchway lifting. armed each with a knife and a heavy ice-anchor, the two men waited. * * * * * in the meantime, during this twenty-four hours, so eventful to dave and the engineer, other things were happening on the shore by the native village. when rainey, who had been on guard at the time of the stealing of the "sub," had been found and brought back to consciousness, he could give no account of affairs, other than that he had been struck a violent blow on the head, and after that, remembered nothing. for a single moment dark suspicion rested on dave and the engineer. some of the crew had heard them talking of the treasure city ten days' journey to the west, and had heard jarvis remark that he "'ated t' think 'ow rich they'd be." could it be possible they had seized the submarine and deserted the party for the sake of gain to themselves? for a moment faith wavered, then their better natures triumphed. "not them," they declared. "not dave and old jarvis." to this the doctor heartily agreed. and, though his disappointment was great at having the expedition again delayed, and, perhaps, entirely thwarted, he turned his mind at once to matters of the hour. gathering his men about him, he outlined hastily a line of action for them in the present crisis. they were, he reasoned, in a perilous situation. several hundred miles west of any point reached by white whalers and traders, marooned with two hundred superstitious natives, who to-day worshipped them, but to-morrow, upon discovering the disappearance of the "spirit-whale," might turn upon them, they would be obliged to make use of every resource and every strategy to save their lives, should the submarine fail to return. his plan was, to deal fairly with the natives and keep their good will, if that were possible. fortunately, they had taken from the submarine ten good rifles with a hundred rounds of ammunition. natives were seen at all hours of the day dragging behind them the carcasses of seal, oogrook (big-seal), and even polar bear. if these could be secured with the aid of such primitive weapons as harpoon and lance, they with their rifles might hope to secure an ample supply of the meat. and it had been proved that even a white man could live the winter through on a diet of meat and blubber in right proportions. they might also, at times, be able to trade for reindeer meat. they would remain at the village until no hope remained that the submarine would return, then they would endeavor to get a store of meat, some reindeer, and deerskin sleeping bags, and make their way east to some point reached in summer by traders. three of the large skin-houses had already been turned over to them by the natives. these would provide ample shelter. two were at once arranged as bunk-houses and the third as cook-shack. when this had been done, with two men on guard, they turned in and slept. next morning, at six o'clock, four hours before daylight, every man was called out and assigned duties. it was the custom of the natives to depart for the hunting-ground at that hour. they should follow the same custom. dividing themselves into two parties, one to watch camp, the other to hunt, they immediately set about their tasks. the first day's hunt was under the direction of azazruk, the eskimo. the results were more than gratifying. two ringed seals, one oogrook, ten feet long, and one young polar bear were the bag for the day. "a full week's supply of meat," smiled the doctor, rubbing his hands in high glee. in his interest in this new game, he had for the moment quite forgotten his great disappointment at the loss of the sub. it was while they were smacking their lips over a hamburger, made of bear meat, that they were surprised by a young native, who rushed into their tent without the accustomed shouted salutation, seemingly quite beside himself with fear. for some time nothing intelligible could be gathered from his excited chatter. but finally azazruk made out that only an hour before, as he watched the reindeer, a great hairy monster had dashed at the herd, scattering it far and wide, and carrying away a yearling buck as easily as if it had been a rabbit. "probably a white bear," suggested rainey. "not probable," said the doctor. "a bear would eat his prey where it was slain." "a wolf?" "couldn't do it." "well, what then?" all eyes were turned toward the doctor. "you will judge me insane if i tell you what i think it was," he answered. "but here you are; i think it was a tiger." "a tiger?" "tiger?" every man voiced his unbelief. "a tiger in the arctic?" "impossible!" "that's absurd." for answer the doctor drew from his notebook a newspaper clipping, bidding rainey read it aloud. the article was entitled "the russian tiger" and was an account of the slaying of a gigantic man-eater by an american officer when american troops were stationed at vladivostok, in eastern russia. "at that point," explained the doctor, "they have about eight months of winter with a thermometer that drops far below zero. it may well be considered a part of the arctic. yet, as you see, they have tigers there; indeed, i am told they are not at all uncommon. so why not up here?" no one had a ready answer, and at last the doctor spoke again: "in the meantime, what are we going to do about it? it would seem that the natives are appealing to us for aid." rainey at once sprang to his feet, exclaiming: "count me one to go hunt the beast, whatever it is." at once the others were on their feet shouting their eagerness for the hunt. the doctor chose a gob named thompson to accompany rainey on his "tiger hunt," or whatever it might prove to be. rainey was well pleased at the choice, for thompson was a sure shot and a cool, nervy hand in time of danger. "if i don't hear from you by morning," said the doctor, "i shall send a relief expedition." rainey had fully recovered from the affair of the previous day. both he and thompson had been among the guarding party that day, so were fresh and keen for work. they found the moonlight making the wide stretches of ice and snow light as day. "_ some_ night and _some_ game!" murmured rainey, as they emerged from the tent. * * * * * when the men in native garb, who had stolen the submarine, lifted the hatch to take an observation, they were utterly unaware of the presence of two figures crouching behind the conning-tower. this, in spite of the fact that the men wore their long knives strapped to their waists, gave dave and the engineer a decided advantage--an advantage they were not slow to make the most of. fortunately, the robbers crowded up the hatchway, all eager to catch a first view of the reputed gold valley, in which lay the treasure city. as the third head peeped above the hatch, jarvis sprang at them. swinging his ice-anchor, an ugly cudgel of bent iron with a chilled steel point, he sent two of the villains sprawling at a single blow. meanwhile, dave, who had grappled with the third man, made a misstep and together they plunged down the hatchway. his opponent landed full on dave's stomach, and so crushed the breath from him that for a second the lad could not move. but instantly, he realized that he must act. the man was attempting to draw his long knife. thrusting out a hand, dave gripped the point of the blade in its soft leather sheath so tightly that it could not be withdrawn. struggling with every ounce of strength, the two men were rolling over and over on the deck. the stranger was heavier and evidently older than dave, but the american had one advantage. he was dressed only in woolens. the heavy skin clothing of his antagonist hampered his action. in spite of this, dave felt himself losing out in the battle. the stranger's hand was gripping closer and closer to his throat, and he felt his own hand losing its hold on the knife-blade, when he heard a welcome roar from the hatchway. it was jarvis. with one leap he was at dave's side. for an old man, he was surprisingly quick. yet, he was not too quick, for the murderous knife was swinging above dave's chest and a hand was at his throat, when jarvis clove the assailant's skull with his ice-anchor. with a groan the man collapsed. the knife clattered to the deck. jarvis dropped to the floor panting. "are you hurt?" he gasped. "no! are you?" "not a scratch. some jolly little weapon, them ice-h'anchors. h'i'll wear one of 'em h'in me belt from now on! h'i 'ates t' think 'ow cold th' water was when h'i pitched 'em h'in, them other two." "kill 'em?" "not that bad. but mebby they'll drown. h'i'll go see. h'i'd 'ate t' see 'em climbin' back." he hurried up the hatchway, followed closely by dave. not a sign of the two men was to be seen, either on the submarine, in the water or on the solid shore-ice, a few rods away. "what d' y' think of that?" asked jarvis, mopping his brow. "they're gone!" "perhaps they drowned." "mebbe drowned--mebby they're 'id h'in th' h'ice." "well, anyway, we're rid of them," said dave. "we'll sew the dead one up in a blanket and throw him overboard; then we'll be going back. think how all fussed up the doctor will be." the boy chuckled. "going back?" jarvis stared, as if unable to believe his ears. "going back? and the treasure city within peep of h'our h'eyes. going back, did y' say? h'i 'ates t' think 'ow rich we'll be, you an' me." the sun was setting behind the dark line of timber. some object at a point where the timber ended and the tundra began cast back the sunlight with a golden glow. "d' y' see it, lad?" exclaimed the excited old man. "d'y'see it? h'it's gold." chapter xii the russian tiger when rainey and thompson, accompanied by the native, left the village to hunt the strange creature that was working havoc with the village reindeer herd, they walked directly away from the rows of deerskin houses toward the tundra at the foot of the hills where, some five miles away, the deer were herded. the five miles were accomplished mostly in silence. each man was busy with his own thoughts. as for the little native, he seemed quite without fear as long as he was with the powerful "spirits of dead whales." when they approached the brown line of the herd that spread itself across the horizon, the boy led them around it to a point beyond where the beast attacked the young deer. there, though the ground had been much trampled by the maddened herd, they found many traces of the attack. splotches of blood stained the snow and made a well-defined trail where the creature had carried off its prey. soon they were beyond the patches of trampled snow and then the native left them to follow the trail alone. faintly, from the distance, came the rattle and clatter of reindeer antlers as the herd moved about. above them, in all its silver glory, shone the moon. now and again the hunters gave a start, as a ptarmigan, roused from its slumbers, went whirring away. to them every purple shadow of rock or bush or snow-pile might be the beast crouching over his kill. "the doctor's right!" exclaimed rainey, bending over the trail, which still showed a bloodspot here and there. "it's no polar bear--here's the scratch of his claws where he climbed this bank. polar bears have no claws, only a sort of hard lump on the end of each toe." "no wolf, either," said thompson, examining the tracks carefully. "the scratches are too long and too far apart. but, for that matter, who would even dream of a wolf large enough to carry off a two hundred pound deer?" the beast's soft paws on the snow, hard-packed by arctic winds, left a trail very difficult to follow. but, bit by bit, they traced it out. at last the creature, having climbed a hill, had taken down a narrow ravine where scrub willows grew thick. and here they found unmistakable evidence that it had been some form of a great cat that had passed this way. "just like a cat's track," said rainey. "and look at the size of 'em; must measure five inches across!" they paused at the edge of the willows. they were brave men, but not fools. only fools would venture into that thicket, where every advantage would be on the side of the lurking monster. "there's a ridge up there running right along the side of this scrub," said rainey. "we'll climb up there and walk along it. may get a glimpse of him. then, again, he may have come out on the other side and gone on." they climbed the bank and started along the ridge. every yellow bunch of dead willow leaves at once became for the moment a crouching tiger, but each, in turn, was passed up. so they walked the ridge and had passed the willow clump, when rainey gripped his companion's arm, whispering: "what's that down there to the right? i think i saw it move." thompson gazed down the narrow pass for a moment, then whispered: "c'mon. it's the very old chap. we can skirt the next bank of rocks and be right above him. we're in luck. it will be an easy shot!" creeping on hands and knees, with bated breath and nerves a-tingle, the boys came presently to a point above the half-hidden beast. as they peered down at him they could barely suppress exclamations of surprise. it was, indeed, a tiger. and such a tiger! never, in any zoo or menagerie, had they seen his equal. he was a monster, with massive head, deep chest and powerful limbs; and his thick fur--nature's protection against the arctic cold--seemed to emphasize both his size and his savageness. "you're the best shot," whispered rainey. "try him!" thompson lifted his rifle and with steady nerve aimed at a point back of the fore-leg. the tiger, who up to this time had apparently neither heard nor scented them, but had been crouching half asleep beside his mangled prey, seemed suddenly to become aware of their presence. just as the rifle cracked, he sprang up the bank. his deafening roar told that the bullet had found a mark, but it did not check his charge. then came a catastrophe. rainey leaned too far forward, causing some rocks and loose snow to slide from beneath him, and, in another second he shot down a steep incline to what seemed certain death. to his surprise, he found himself dropping straight down. a hidden cliff here jutted out over the drifted snow. to his much greater surprise, instead of being knocked senseless, he was immediately engulfed in what seemed an avalanche of snow leaping up to meet him. his alert mind told him what had happened. a blizzard of a few days previous had driven great quantities of snow against the cliff. this snow was not hard-packed, and he had been buried in it by the fall. the problem now was to avoid the tiger, who was sure to spring upon him at the first glimpse and tear him in pieces. then, suddenly, there flashed through his mind a picture left over from his boyhood days. it was that of a cat endeavoring to catch a mole, which burrowed industriously beneath the snow, raising a ridge as he burrowed. could he play the part of the mole, as the tiger was sure to play the part of the cat? it was his only chance. his companion would not dare to shoot until he knew where rainey was. putting himself in the position of a swimmer, the sailor began pawing at the snow and kicking it with his feet. the snow was hard packed against his face and he thought his lungs would burst. but he was making progress. now, he dared back off a trifle and take a long breath of air from the burrow he had made. then a sound stirred him to renewed effort. it was the thud and jar of an impact. the tiger, having made his first leap, had missed. how many more times would he do this? the boy once more jamming his head against the snow renewed his swimming motions. again he was obliged to pause for breath. again the tiger sprang; this time, seemingly, he was more accurate. again the race was renewed. the boy's mind was in a whirl. would his companion understand and risk a shot as the tiger prepared for another spring? he hoped so. surely, he could not endure the strain much longer. one thing he was certain of, he could not hear the report of the rifle if a shot were fired. he must struggle on in ignorance of what was going on above him. the thought was maddening. the air in the narrow channel was stifling; yet, he burrowed on, and heard again the heavy impact. he had burrowed his length and backed off again for breath, when he was forced to the realization that he could endure the air of the channel no longer. apparently, the tiger's last leap had completely closed it. resolving to fight his way out, and then to trust all to flight, he thrust his hands upward and again began to burrow. with dizzy brain and wildly beating heart, he felt at length the fresh, frosty air upon his cheek. but what was this that reached his ears? surely not the roar of the tiger. instead it was the joyous cry of his companion. dragging the snow from his eyes, rainey stared about him. there, not five paces from him, lay the tiger with a bullet in his brain, while beside the body stood thompson. "well," said the hunter with a grin, "you're sure some mouse!" "and you're some shot!" said rainey, floundering through the snow to his companion's side. "i guess that's the finest tiger skin in the world." "it's yours as much as mine," answered thompson. "we'll go share and share alike." chapter xiii bruce and the bear during this time of mishaps and adventures for the submarine party, what was happening to the boys and the major in their airplane? with fair wind and weather they might well have been on the return journey from the pole. but fair wind and weather are not for long in the arctic. they were, indeed, on their way. as they shot away into the air from the native village near the trader's schooner, they heard the natives calling one word in unison. it was the eskimo name for thunder-bird. the major smiled happily at the boys as the plane soared upward. barney was again at the wheel. two things he dreaded now: engine trouble, which might be brought on by poor gasoline, and an arctic blizzard. if forced to land at any time, they would be in great danger of a crash, and a storm would double the danger. but there could never have been a more wonderful day than that on which they left the little camp for the great adventure. not a cloud whitened the blue dome of the sky, not a breath of air stirred. soon the sun sank from sight, and twilight, strange and wonderful, lasting through three long hours, faded slowly into night. then below them lay yellow lights and deep purple shadows, with here and there a stretch of black, which told of open water between floes. the air grew colder as night came on, and speeding northward they saw the thermometer dropping degree by degree, and felt the chill creep through their garments in defiance of their electrical heating device. barney began to worry about the effect of this intense cold on the tempered steel of his engines and the many-layered wood of his propellers; but as they sped on hour after hour, this restlessness left him. but what was this? he found the machine shooting through space with greater freedom. one answer there was: a storm. they had been caught in the advance of a blizzard; how great and terrible, none could tell. "going to storm. better land," telephoned the major. obeying his orders, the boy dropped to a lower level. here the wind was more intense and the air was filled with fine particles of snow which raced with them, only to glide away into the background. the whole ice-floe was already gray and indistinct from the drift. to pick a landing-place seemed impossible. for several moments of agonizing suspense they sped on; then, just as they were about to despair, there appeared before them a long expanse of white. wide as three city boulevards, endless in extent, it appeared to offer just the opportunity they were seeking. with a sign barney shut off his engine, and, sailing on the wind, waited for a lull to give him a safe landing. the lull came, then with a swoop, like a wild duck seeking water, they hovered, settled, then touched the surface. the landing-wheels were shooting along over the snow with barney's keen eyes strained ahead that he might avoid possible rough spots, when there came a cry of dismay from bruce. with one startled glance about, barney saw all. to the right and left of them the ice seemed to rise like the walls of an inverted tent. "rubber-ice," his mind told him like a flash. they had attempted to land where the water had but recently frozen over, and was covered with a deceptive coating of snow. only one hope remained: to rise again. once the weak rubber-ice--thin, elastic salt-water ice--gave way, nothing could save them. tilting the planes and tail to their utmost capacity, barney set first one engine in motion and then the other. but the yielding ice gave them no purchase. at the same time, it impeded their progress by offering them the slope of a mountain side to climb. one thing favored them. the peril of a moment before became a blessing. the wind freshened at every blast. at last, with a terrific swoop, it seized them and sent them whirling upward. in the down-swoop, they were all but crashed on a towering pile of ice, but escaping this fate, once more they were away. despite this near-catastrophe, barney was determined to make a landing. the chill of the storm was so benumbing to muscles and senses that further flying could only result in stupor, then death. again he sank low and scudded along on the wings of the wind. to his great joy, he soon saw that they were passing over flat stretches of white. there could be no mistake this time; they were ice-pans, perhaps a quarter-mile across, such pans as form in quiet bays, to float away and drift north in the spring. again he stopped his engines, determined, if he must, to circle and return to the flats he had passed. this did not prove necessary, however, and, to their great relief, the three were soon threshing their arms and stamping their feet on a solid cake of ice, and so vast that it seemed they must be on land, not hundreds of miles from shore on the bosom of a great ocean, which might, at the very point they stood, be a half-mile in depth. their first concern was to make camp. this storm might rage for days, and already they saw white spots forming on one another's cheeks, telling of frost-bites. "we can't camp here in the open," said the major. "have to carry our blankets and sleeping-bags to the rougher ice yonder, where we can build a house of snow." the suggestion was no sooner made than the boys were delving into the inner recesses of the plane and dragging out equipment and supplies. "primus stove, dried potatoes, pemmican, evaporated eggs, pickled butter, hard-tack, chocolate, beef tea, coffee," barney called off. "not bad for near the pole." the dogs were hitched to the small sled and soon all were racing away before the wind to the spot chosen for the camp. in a short time they were busy constructing a rude shelter, and the airplane for the moment was forgotten. in the meantime, the wind was increasing, and the wings of the plane, catching first this swirl, then that one, began making great gyrating circles, cutting the air with a crack and a burr that might be heard rods away. though these sounds did not reach the men, busy with the snow-shack, they did reach listening ears--a great white bear, wandering the floes in search of some sleeping seal, stood first on all fours, then on his haunches, to listen. then, with many a misgiving and many a pause, he made his cautious way to the edge of that particular ice-flat where the plane rested. thence, after more misgivings, he trundled his awkward body across the flat and took a position close to the plane, where, on his haunches, he stood and watched the apparently playful antics of the plane as if he thought it some great bird that had come to infest his domain. presently, when the plane nearest him seemed about to swoop down and touch the ice, he moved to a position beneath it, and, with tongue lolling, stood on his haunches again and swinging his giant paw to accompany the swing of the plane, struck out as it approached him. to his surprise, the plane did not come within twenty feet of the ice surface. he sank back on his haunches and awaited further developments. when the snow-hut was completed, the first thought of the major and the boys was of something to eat. "something hot!" exclaimed barney, rattling away at the primus stove. then he sat up with a look of disgust on his face. "the needles for the primus," he groaned. "they're still over in the plane!" "i'll get them," said bruce, beginning to draw on his heavy parka. soon he was fighting the wind back to the position of the plane. he had not battled with the elements long before he began to realize that all would not be well if the plane were left in its present position, unanchored as it was. and when he caught the hum and whirr of the wind through the wings, he was more thoroughly convinced of the fact than ever. as he came near and could see the long tilting toss of the wings, he realized that something must be done and at once. for a second he hesitated; should he return and call his companions, or should he attempt to anchor the plane, temporarily at least, unaided? he decided upon the latter course, and went at once to the body of the plane where were stored light, strong ropes of silk, and ice-anchors. he did not see the bear sitting patiently on his haunches beneath the tip of the long wing. indeed, the snow-fog made it impossible, and it was equally impossible for the bear to see him. having secured four ropes and four ice-anchors, bruce took two of the ropes and began climbing out on the right wing of the plane. his plan was to attach the ropes to the extremity of the wing, cast them down to the surface where he would anchor them later in each direction away from the tip of the wing. he would repeat the operation with the other wing, and, drawing the ropes down snugly, thus make the plane tight and steady. he had climbed quite to the extremity of the wing and was about to tie his first rope, when a fierce gust of wind threatened to tear him from the rigging and crash him to the ice, a dangerous distance below. with a quick clutch, he saved himself but lost the rope. it was with a grunt of disgust that he saw it wind and twirl toward the white surface below. then it was, for the first time, that he saw the yellowish-white object huddled there on the ice waiting. "a bear!" he groaned, and instinctively reached for his automatic. but at that instant there came a fresh swoop of wind that set the plane gyrating more violently than ever. clinging grimly to the bars, bruce felt the wing swing down, down, then in toward the bear, till it seemed it must crash into the great creature. before the plane rose bruce felt a chill run down his spine. not ten feet beneath him was the savage face of the bear. all his gleaming white teeth showed in an ugly grin, as he stood on his haunches one mighty fore-paw raised in air, like a traffic policeman signaling a car to stop. then again the wing whirled to dizzy heights. bruce was now quite ready to climb back the length of the wing and depart for camp to summon assistance. but to loosen his grip, even of one hand for an instant, was to court death. again he felt the sickening sink of the plane, as if it were an elevator-car loosed from its cable. and this time, he felt instinctively, the wing would scrape the ice. and the bear, if he were still there? well, there was going to be a crash and a general mix-up. bruce had been a football player in his day and was aware that there were times, if one were at the bottom of the heap, when relaxation was the play. as far as his position made it possible, he relaxed. and, in the meantime the plane swept downward. for one fleeting instant he saw the white traffic cop of the arctic wilderness still standing with paw upraised. then everything was a blinding, deafening crash of ice and snow, wood, canvas and white bear. bruce gathered himself up some rods from the scene of the crash. relaxed as he was, he had rolled like a football over the ice and had escaped with a few bruises. but the plane? as he caught a fleeting glimpse of it disappearing in the murky fog, he felt sure that it would take days, perhaps weeks, to repair it. "and the worst is not yet! she's still swinging!" he groaned, rising stiffly. but immediately his mind was turned to the white "cop." how had he fared? the boy felt for his automatic. fortune favored him; it was still in his holster. this was well, for the white bear, very much shaken but still game, having wrought further havoc with the debris left by the demolished wing, was charging down upon him. standing his ground, bruce waited until the bear was within six paces. one stroke from that giant paw would end the struggle. his aim must be true and certain. suddenly his hand went to his side for a hip-shot. put-put-put-put. four bullets smashed into the bear, bringing him to a standstill. put-put-put-put. with a roar, the bear sank to the ice. in a second he was dead. it was with a feeling almost of regret that bruce bent over the giant beast. but it was with a sense of new power that he noted that seven of his bullets had crashed through the arctic goliath's skull. again his mind was turned toward the plane. cold and hungry as they were, he realized that he and his two companions must spend the next hour making their craft safe from further damage. three hours, indeed, elapsed before they were again seated in the snow-cabin. this time the primus stove was going and the coffee coming to a boil. "well," said the major, "i'm glad we're all here. we'll be delayed for several days. we may have lost the race. but we won't give up. as long as our plane has wings we'll keep on. no race is ever lost until the goal is reached and passed. let's eat." "anyway," said barney, as he sipped his cup of hot coffee, "we won't run out of dog meat and hamburger soon. i'll bet bruce's bear weighs a thousand pounds dressed." "fourteen inches between the ears," grinned bruce proudly. chapter xiv "bombed" standing silently beside the aged engineer, dave tower gazed thoughtfully at the golden dome that flashed, then slowly darkened in the setting sun. that yellow gleam did not lure him on, for the honor of helping to reach the pole was more to him than money. but jarvis? he perhaps had learned in his long years of labor that "the paths of glory lead but to the grave," and now that he was growing old wealth would mean escape from toil and worry. perhaps, too, somewhere in the states a gray-haired wife awaited him to whom just a little of that gleaming gold would mean rest and peace as long as she might live. so dave looked at the golden dome and pondered what he ought to do. when at last, he spoke, his tone was kind: "jarvis," he began, "as you know, i am in command of this craft. the fact that it has been stolen and won back, more by your efforts than by anything i have done, does not change matters any. i am still commander." jarvis looked up with an impatient gesture, as if about to speak, but dave kept on: "as captain of this submarine, i might order you below, and your refusal to do so would be mutiny. but from the time we came aboard this craft we have been more like pals than commander and engineer. i give you my word of honor i will never order you below. if you go, you go of your own free will." jarvis raised his face for a moment, and upon it was a look of growing hope. "you know," dave continued, "what our duty is. we shipped under the orders of the doctor. those orders still go. no matter how fine the chances are that we are letting slip, we are bound to do as the doctor wants. "more than that, we have friends back there who had only two days' supply of food when we left them. they are living in a village of superstitious, treacherous savages, who may attack and murder them at any moment. jarvis," he touched the old man's hand, "we are american seamen. will you forget your flag and your shipmates for gold?" for a second the old man stood in silence, then with a rush, he stumbled down the hatchway, and in another moment dave heard him tinkering away at his engines. before dave wrapped the dead stranger in his burial blanket, he searched the pockets of his clothing. there was no mistaking the garments; they were oriental in make. and had there remained any doubt, it would have been dispelled by two packets of papers taken from an inside pocket. these bore the official stamp of that oriental government which had been named by jarvis. "i must tell jarvis," said the boy to himself. "it will please him to know that he was right." and that night, while they glided silently back toward the native village they had left not many hours before, leaving the treasure city a mystery unexplained, he _did_ tell jarvis. as he finished, the old man's face lighted. "the thing that's troublin' me just now," he said slowly, "is the question of th' two bloomin' 'eathen that faded from h'our h'eyes. h'i 'ates to think they live, an' h'i 'ates to trust my 'opes they're done for. if they're h'alive, they may get the treasure yet, an' h'i 'ates t' be beat by a bloody, bloomin' 'eathen." "they're a long way from home base," said dave with a grin. "they may find the treasure, but getting it home's another thing." "i want you to know," he went on, huskily, "that i appreciate your standing by me, and if we get out of this alive, you and i, with our discharge papers, i promise i'll be your partner in this new enterprise--the quest for treasure; that is, if you'll take me on." "will h'i?" jarvis sprang to his feet, a new glad light in his eye. "will h'i? 'ere, give us a 'and on that. h'and we'll win, lad; we'll win! an' that in spite of th' bloomin' 'eathen!" it was early the next morning that the doctor, who was enjoying, with the gobs, the native festival of rejoicing over the killing of the great, and to them unknown, beast which had attacked their reindeer herds, he noticed a young native come running from the direction of the sea. he paused now and again to shout: "tomai! tomai!" which was the native call for the arrival of a boat. instantly the crowd was thrown into commotion. natives rushed hither and thither. but the white men realized at once that this could mean nothing less than the return of the submarine, and, while they did not at all understand it, they whooped their joy and rushed toward the shore to see a dark body rounding the point. "the sub! the sub! hurray! hurray!" they shouted, tossing their caps high in air. and the submarine indeed it was. dave and jarvis were overjoyed to rejoin their companions. the stories of adventure were soon told and then everyone was set to hustling the last bit of equipment on board. there would be neither meals nor sleep until everything was in readiness and they were away. as the doctor and dave stood on deck watching the casting off of the ropes, the doctor spoke of his plans. "we may have lost the race," he remarked rather grimly, "but we're going to the pole just the same. it will mean something to you boys, at least, to be able to say that you've been there. it was my purpose to lay our course directly for the pole without establishing a base, but since we have been carried out of our way so far, and have used so much fuel, i feel that it will be wise to head for the farthest-north point of alaska--point barrow. "i was assured, in nome, that there were two oil-burning whalers wintering near there, and i have no doubt that we can depend on them for extra fuel." the hatches were lowered, the submarine sank from sight amid the "ah-ne-ca's" and "mat-na's" of the awe stricken natives who lined the cliffs a half-mile away. the sub, with all on board, was again on its way to enter the race for the pole. "the race is on," said dave. "i wonder?" smiled the doctor. three times they rose in dark waterways for air. the fourth time it seemed they must be nearing land-- yes, as the submarine bumped the edge of an ice-floe, a point of land showed plainly to port. dave, with field-glass in hand, sprang to the nearest ice-cake, then climbed to a pinnacle to take an observation. "clear water to the left of us," he reported. "too close ashore?" asked the doctor. "i think not," was dave's answer. "we'll have to submerge for three or four miles; then we'll be clear of the ice." signal bells clanged, and again they were gliding under the ocean's armor of ice. as he listened to the hum of the machinery, one question puzzled dave. he had seen something along the end of that ice-floe. what was it? a sail? if so, it was a very strange one--half white and half black. he could not be sure it was a sail. but what else could it have been? but now they had swept out from under the ice. it was time to rise. instantly he pressed the button. the craft slowed again. another press, and as before they rose. this time no white surface would interrupt them. a current coming from land caught them forward and tilted the craft. she slanted from fore to aft. this did not matter; she would right herself on the surface like a cork. but what was this? as the point shot from the water, something rang out against the steel. this was followed immediately by what, in the narrow apartments, amounted to a deafening explosion; then came the sound of rushing waters. "great god! we're bombed!" shouted the doctor. dave's cool head saved them for the moment. his hand seized an electric switch and he pulled it desperately. the bow compartment was quickly closed, checking the rush of water into the rest of the "sub," fortunately, no one had been forward at the time. but now they were sinking rapidly. then came the throb of the pumps forcing out the water from the compartments aft. slowly the sickening sinking of their ship was checked. "will she rise again?" asked the doctor, white-faced but cool. "i think so, sir," responded dave. dave watched a gauge with anxious eyes. the pumps were still working. would the craft stand the test? would she rise? one, two, three minutes he watched the dial; then a fervent "thank god!" escaped his lips. the sub was rising again. but once more his brow was clouded. what awaited them on the surface? "one more," he muttered, "just one more, and we are done for." every man aboard the submarine had a different explanation for the bomb which had disabled their craft. jones, the electrician, had just finished reading the adventures of a young british gunner in these very waters somewhere back in the eighties. the story had to do with the defense of seal fisheries against the japs, and jones was sure that a japanese seal-poaching boat had bombed them. mcpherson, who had seen active service chasing german subs, was certain they had encountered one of the missing u boats. wilder believed it had been a russian cruiser, and, of course, jarvis blamed it to the "bloomin' 'eathen." the first and third of these theories could be discarded at once, since no craft was to be seen when last they submerged, and a cruiser or schooner of any size could scarcely have escaped their attention. as for dave, he had another theory, but was too busy to talk about it. he had read a great deal regarding the eskimos and their methods of hunting. meanwhile the submarine was rising slowly toward the surface. she was coming up with her stern tilted high this time, for the water in her forward compartments disturbed her balance. every heart beat fast as the water above grew lighter. "mcpherson, be ready to throw open the hatch the minute we are clear," commanded dave. "all life belts on?" he asked. "aye, aye, sir!" came in chorus. "rifles?" "at hand, sir." "ready then." there came a sudden burst of light, the creak of hinges, the thud of the hatch, then the thud of feet as the men rushed for the deck. in another moment the crew found themselves outside clinging to the tilted and unsteady craft, blinking in the sunlight, and seeing--? principally white ice and dark water. off in the distance, indeed, was an innocent-looking native skin-boat. there were, perhaps, ten natives aboard. "thought so," chuckled dave. "you thought what?" demanded the doctor. every eye was turned on the young commander. "thought we'd been shot by natives with a whale-gun. took us for a whale, don't you see? whale-gun throws a bomb that explodes inside the whale and kills him. in this case, it exploded against us and raised the very old dickens. here they come. you'll see i'm right." and he was right. the crew of christianized natives were soon alongside, very humble in their apologies, and very anxious to assist in undoing the damage they had wrought. "have we any extra steel plate?" asked the doctor. "yes, sir. have to be shaped, though," replied dave. "can we do it?" "i think so, on shore." "all right, then. get these natives to give us a hand and we'll go on the sand-bar for repairs. bad cess to the whaling industry of the eskimos! it's lost us a full two days, and perhaps the race! but we must not give up. things can happen to airplanes, as well." it took a hard half-day's work to bring the craft to land, but at last the task was done and the mechanics were hammering merrily away on the steel with acetylene torch sputtering, and forty natives standing about open-mouthed, exclaiming at everything that happened, and offering profound explanations in their own droll way. chapter xv the mystery cavern once their craft was repaired, the submarine party pushed northward at an average rate of ten miles an hour. it was two days before any further adventure crossed their path. but each hour of the journey had its new thrill and added charm. now, with engine in full throb, they were scurrying along narrow channels of dark water, and now submerging for a sub-sea journey. now, shadowy objects shot past them, and dave uttered a prayer that they might not mix with the propeller--seal, walrus or white whale, whatever they might be. in his mind, at such times, he had visions of floating beneath the arctic pack, powerless to go ahead or backward and as powerless to break through the ice to freedom. wonderful changing lights were ever filtering through ice and water to them, and, at times, as they drove slowly forward, the lights and shadows seemed to have a motion of their own, a restless shifting, like the play of sunlight and shadow beneath the trees. dave knew this was no work of the imagination. he knew that the ice above them was the plaything of currents and winds; that great cakes, many yards wide and eight feet thick, were grinding and piling one upon another. once more his brow wrinkled. "for," he said to himself, "it may be true enough that the average ice-floe is only twenty-five miles wide, but if the wind and current jams a lot of them together, what limit can there be to their extent? and if we were to find ourselves in the center of such a vast field of ice with oxygen exhausted, what chance would we have?" dave shuddered in answer to the question. he was thinking of these things on the eve of the second day. they were plowing peacefully through the water when, of a sudden, there came a grating blow at the side of the craft. it was as if they had struck some solid object and glanced off. "what was that?" exclaimed the boy. he cut the power, then turned to the doctor: "ice or--" "there it goes again!" exclaimed the doctor. this time the blow was heavier. it sent them against the side of the compartment. "ice beneath the ocean? impossible!" exclaimed the doctor. "must be rocks!" another blow hurled them in the opposite direction. both realized the gravity of this new peril. if one of these blows caught the craft squarely it would crush the sub like an egg-shell. but the boat was slowing up. there was hope in that. dave, attempting to look out of one of the portholes, was thrown to the floor by another shock. and this time the craft seemed to have stuck, for she did not move. "where can we be?" asked dave, rubbing a bruised head. it was a strange sight which met their eyes as they looked from the conning tower. on every side appeared to be giant pillars of ice. between these were narrow water passages, while above they could make out a mass of ice far more opaque than any they had yet passed beneath. "one of two things," said the doctor. "we are beneath an iceberg or the end of a glacier. probably a glacier, and the pillars which support it reach to the bottom, which must not be far below us." "we have driven between two pillars and stuck there like a mouse in a trap," said dave, "and if we cannot set ourselves free, we are--" "it must be done!" exclaimed the doctor. "start the power slowly and see what the propeller will do." dave gave the signal. there followed a harsh, grating sound, but the boat did not move. "stuck!" muttered dave. "not so fast." said the doctor. "there's hope yet. shut off the power and order all hands aft." "now," said the doctor, when they were assembled. "we will go to the starboard side, then all together dash to port, and throw our weight against the side. then turn and rush back--we want to make her roll. are you ready? go!" the craft stirred a trifle at the shock. the second attempt seemed to promise still better. after they had repeated the operation half a dozen times, they were getting considerable side-wise movement out of the trapped submarine. "now," said the doctor, "start the power slowly, engine reversed. the instant she is free, shut off the power. on the precision of this operation depends all our lives, for should the propeller strike one of those pillars it will be torn away and our hope of escape gone." dave's hand trembled as he moved the lever. for one second the propeller spun around. then, with a shudder, the craft started backward. that instant dave shut off the power. the submarine drifted free. so far, they were safe. the doctor consulted his watch. "time of low tide," he observed "guess we should be able to rise and get some air. try it." slowly they rose to the surface, and there the craft rested. it was an eager throng that rushed from the conning-tower and it was a wonderful and awe-inspiring sight which met their gaze. "cathedral of the polar gods!" exclaimed the doctor. and, indeed, so the great cavern seemed to be. great pillars of ice, not yet worn away by the wash of water, supported giant arches of ice, blue as a mid-june night. the least echo was echoed and reechoed through the vast corridors. the murmur of distant waves seemed to come from everywhere. "what i want to know," said dave, "is, which way is out. the careless gods seemed to have neglected to mark the exits." "we'll find an exit," said the doctor, "and we'd better be about it, for it'll be much easier at low-tide than at high." the engine was started, and slowly they steered their way through countless aisles and broad halls, but the finding of the way out did not seem so easy after all. they had penetrated far enough into the cavern to hide them from the pale outer moonlight, and they were not certain that their course was not taking them farther from it. dave was thinking of turning about when the sub came to a stop with a suddenness which threatened to pitch the party into the sea. "what now?" demanded the doctor. ordering the power shut off, then flashing a light before them, dave exclaimed: "a beach, a sandy beach!" then, with the enthusiasm of a boy, he sprang forward, leaping into shallow water and wading ashore. once ashore he flashed his light about in the icy caverns which left but a narrow sandy beach. then, with a cry of horror, he sprang backward. before him towered an immense hairy monster, with tusks three times the length of a man's arm. the instant the cry had left his lips, he knew the laugh was on him. but the cry had gone forth, echoing through the corridors. it brought the jackies and the doctor splashing through the water to his rescue. "only a frozen mastodon," he grinned sheepishly, as they came to his side. "guess he's been dead ten thousand years, to say the least. but honest, doesn't he look natural standing there in the ice?" he flashed the light suddenly upon the ice-encased monster, and the jackies jumped, as if they, too, expected to be attacked. "a beautiful corpse, i'd say," exclaimed one of them. "a most remarkable specimen," commented the doctor. "i've heard of cases like this, but never saw one before." "say!" exclaimed jones. "if we could only get him out of here like that and put him down in alcohol, we'd have a side-show that would make barnum jump out of his grave!" "not a bad idea," said the doctor. "the only hitch would be getting him out of here." as dave backed away for a better view, his foot struck something hard. flashing his light upon it, he found it to be the skull and tusks of a walrus. they were as black as coal. "i've made a find!" he exclaimed. "these tusks we may take with us, and old ivory is about as valuable as precious stones." the discovery seemed to waken the doctor to their peril. "that walrus," he said, "wandered in here and was drowned by the rising tide. he can breathe under water, but cannot stay down over ten minutes. we can't breathe at all under water. the tide is setting in." these words sent the crew scurrying back to the submarine. already the tide had risen sufficiently to float the craft. all hands hastened to re-embark. "if we set our course directly at right-angles to this beach and keep it there," said dave, "it should bring us to safety." this was done, and, after many a turn and twist, they caught a gleam of light. submerging, they were soon beneath the ice-floe once more. with a sigh of relief, dave gave the order to rise at the first water-hole. there they might take their bearings. a half-hour later the party was gathered on the deck gazing away at an island above which there towered a snow-capped mountain. down the side of the mountain might be distinguished the winding, blue course of a great glacier. "our glacier!" said dave. "some glacier, i'll say!" "our glacier!" repeated a jackie. "long may she glide!" the course was set at an angle to the island. this would carry them past any treacherous sand-bars. they would then take another tack and resume their former course. at a few minutes before noon that day they rose far from the island. the sun, a pale yellow disk, shone through a thin haze close to the surface of the pack. and yet it was high noon. this was, perhaps, to be their last bearing taken by the light of the sun. henceforth, the moon and the stars must guide them. whereas all former polar expeditions were carried forward only during the summer months, when the sun shone night and day, they, as well as their rivals, must drive on straight into the deep mysteries of the dreaded arctic night. chapter xvi wrecked "all aboard! change here for all way stations; our next stop is the pole!" barney, the daring aviator, sang the words cheerfully, as he settled himself in his place at the wheel. he hardly felt the cheerfulness his tone implied. true, they had spent twelve days repairing the damage done to the plane by the wind and its collision with the white bear, but it was a rather patched-up affair now it was finished--as it needs must be with the few materials and tools at their command. as he had expressed it to bruce only the night before: they had a crippled wing, and a bird with a broken pinion never soars so high again, even if it is a bird of fabric, wood and steel. however, he was truly glad to be getting away on what they hoped might be their last lap. the grave-like silence of the arctic, with its glistening whiteness everywhere, had gripped his nerves. "well, here's hoping," he murmured to bruce, as the plane hopped off. as for the major, he sat with face fixed as a bronze statue. his gaze was toward the pole. for fourteen hours they soared steadily onward. only the air, which grew crisper and more stinging as they advanced steadily northward, told them they were nearing the pole. observations from the plane were impossible. the sun, which had been appearing less and less each day, was now quite lost to them. only the moon in all its glory tinted the blue ice-piles with wavering ghost colors. the wind for once was still. not a bird appeared in the sky, not an animal met the gaze of their binoculars as they peered below. it was as if the whole northern realm had become suddenly silent at the magnificent spectacle of three men sailing alone over spaces never yet traveled by man, and where dangers lurked at every turn. the plane, too, was surprising its driver. it answered his least touch on the lever controls. the engines were working perfectly. only now and again he caught a faint lurch which told his practiced senses that some of the rudely improvised splices were working loose. even these gave him no great alarm; at least, they did not seem sufficiently serious to warrant an immediate landing. but suddenly, as they were soaring over the wildest, most treacherous-looking stretch of floe ice that eyes have ever rested upon, the plane gave a lurch. a shudder ran through her from wing to wing, and, with a plunge, she shot side-wise. the outer half of her right wing had doubled up on the inner half, like a blade to a jack-knife. bruce took in the situation at a glance. before a hand could stop him, he had unbuckled his straps, and, creeping to the extremity of the remaining half of the wing, he clung there, thus adding his weight to its balancing power. already barney had shut off the engines. with the added weight to the right the plane became steadier. danger of a whirling spin to the ice-surface seemed for the time averted. "what a landing-place!" groaned barney, almost touching the starting lever in his eagerness to save the plane. but he stayed his hand; to start the engine under such conditions would be madness. some form of landing they must make, even if it was but to "crash." so they sped steadily downward, realizing that the goal they sought must now, with the aid of their dog-team, be easily within their grasp; yet realizing also that all means of returning was likely to be denied them, unless, indeed, one were to call five dogs a means of traveling over hundreds of miles of tangled, tumbling mountains of ice. suddenly, barney's heart leaped for joy. just before them, within possible area of landing, lay a perfectly level stretch of ice. it was not large, was, in fact, perilously small, yet it offered a possible landing. tilting the left plane to its utmost, adjusting the tail, barney glided onward. with bated breath he saw the white plain rise to meet them. with trembling hand he touched a lever here, a button there. then--a jar--the landing-wheels had touched. they touched again. the moving plane fairly ate up the scant level space, yet she slowed and slowed until at last, with hardly a tremor, she rested against the outcropping ridge of ice at the floe's edge. with a glowing smile the major unstrapped himself to reach out his hands in thanks and congratulation to his pilots. but--where were they? they had disappeared. he found them in front of the plane calling to him for assistance. then he saw the danger their more practiced eyes had already noticed. the ice at this point was piling. at this moment the very cake against which they had stopped was beginning to rise. within a space of moments, the plane, unless turned and thrust backward, would be crushed beneath hundreds of tons of ice. "if we can get her back we can save her!" panted bruce. "swing her!" shouted barney, throwing his whole strength against the right wing. "now she moves!" yelled bruce joyously. "now! heave ho!" the great craft turned slowly on her wheels. now the plane was clearing the ice. now--now in just a second--she would be safe. but no--the right wheel caught in an ice-crevice. three desperate efforts they made to free her, then, just as the giant cake towered, crumbling above them, the major shouted the word of warning that sent them leaping back to safety but cost them their machine. true, it stood there, still. the mechanism was perfect, the engines uninjured. but the right wing was completely demolished. buried beneath tons and tons of ice, the craft that had carried them so far was crushed beyond all hope of repair. with despair tugging at their hearts, the three stood looking at the wreckage. but they were not of the breed that quits. "we'd better get our stuff and what's left of the plane out of the way of danger," said bruce at length. "the stuff--blankets, grub and the like, yes, but"--barney smiled in spite of himself--"why the plane? she's done for." "because," said bruce, "you can never tell what will happen." the pressure which was piling the ice diminished rapidly, and the back edge of the cake proved a safe place to make camp. soon they were boiling tea over a small oil stove and discussing the future as calmly as they might have done had they been in the old office-shack back on the hudson bay railroad. "now to find where we are," exclaimed the major, knocking the tea leaves from his cup. the interest in this project was keen. after working out his reckoning, estimating the speed of their flight and counting the hours they had been in the air, the major laid down his pencil. "fifty miles southeast of the pole," he said at last. "shall we attempt to go on or turn back?" the boys looked at one another. bruce read in his companions' eyes the desire to attempt the return with the dog-team. at the same time, he realized that the real genius of an explorer lay in his desire to push on. the major had that genius. "as for me," bruce said finally, "i never decide anything of great importance until i have slept over it." barney smiled in spite of his anxiety and weariness. but the major, seeing the strained expression in the boys' faces, realized that the ultimatum of bruce was a good one. soon the three companions were snug in their sleeping-bags, dreaming of a land of grass and flowers far, far away. * * * * * as soon as the submarine was safely on its course after the glacier incident, dave, who had not slept for many hours, turned in for "three winks." his three winks had stretched on into hours, when he was wakened by a sudden jarring that shook the craft from stem to stern. he was on his feet in the passage-way at once. "what happened?" he demanded of a sailor. "blamed if i know," said the other. he was white as a sheet. one thing dave made sure of as he hurried toward the wheel-room; they were drifting under the ice-floor of the ocean. was the motor simply dead, or was the propeller gone? he had but an instant to wait. there came the purr of the motor, then the sudden sound of racing machinery, which told plainer than words that the worst had happened. "i think it was a walrus, sir," said rainey, who had been in charge of the wheel-room. "i had just caught sight of a dark blotch gliding by and reached for the power when the racket started." "what were you making?" asked dave quietly. "our usual ten knots." the compartment they were in was filled with levers and adjusting wheels of all descriptions. the walls were lined with gauges and dials of many styles and sizes. a person on entering and taking the operator's position, might fancy himself in the center of a circle of gears and driving wheels of many automobiles. dave glanced at a gauge, then at another. he touched a wheel, and the hand on the second dial began to drop. they were now rising. as a usual thing, they traveled some forty feet below the surface. icebergs were scarce in these waters, and the ordinary floe did not lie more than twenty feet below sea-level; still, it was safer lower down. but now--now their safety rested in gliding to a point beneath a water channel or hole, and, once they were under it, they must not fail to rise. "no, not if it takes our conning-tower to do it!" dave said savagely, as he finished explaining. they were still drifting through the water at a rather rapid rate, but little by little a speed gauge was falling. soon they would be lying motionless beneath the arctic floe, as helpless as a dead whale; and should no dark water-hole appear before that time came, they were doomed. dave wiped the cold perspiration from his brow, as the hand on the dial dropped lower and lower. he touched a wheel again, and they rose another ten feet. "must be nearly bumping the ice by now; but at such a time as this one takes risks," he muttered. what was that? did he sense the dark shadow which always presaged open water? surely, if walrus were about, there must be open water to give them air. and, yes--there it was; a hole in the floe! his trembling hand again touched the wheel. the hand on the dial had dropped to nearly nothing. if the water-hole was narrow; if they missed it! but no--up--up they shot, and in just another moment men were swarming from the conning-tower. "say!" exclaimed dave, wiping his forehead. "do you remember the obstacle-races they used to have at county fairs when you were a boy?" the jackie he spoke to grinned and nodded. "well, this is an obstacle-race, and the worst i ever saw. the worst of it is, there are two prizes--one's the pole and the other our own lives!" the open water they had reached at so fortunate a moment proved to be a channel between floes. they were in no immediate danger now, but to repair the damage done to the shaft and adjust a new propeller, it was necessary that they drag the submarine to the surface of a broad ice-cake. this task was not as difficult as one might imagine. with the aid of ice-anchors, iron pulleys and cables, they without much delay harnessed their engine and finished the job all ship shape. "look!" said one of the seamen, pointing at the narrow stretch of water. "she's closin' in!" as the men looked they knew it to be true; the channel was certainly narrower than when they first rose upon its surface. securing a light line, the doctor attached it to a plummet. throwing the plummet across the space, he drew the line taut. he then marked the point where the ice-line crossed it. then for five minutes he divided his attention between the line and his watch. as he rose he muttered; "two hours! two hours! how long will it take to complete the repairs?" "four hours, at least," dave replied calmly. "then we're defeated!" the doctor began pacing the surface of the ice. "we're stuck--beaten! in two hours the channel will be closed, and there is not another patch of open water within five miles!" if dave seemed unnaturally calm on receipt of such news, it was because he had in his "bag of tricks" one of which the doctor was not aware. while in nome he had made the acquaintance of a former british seaman, who had cruised arctic waters in the late eighties, when japan was disputing the rights of great britain and the united states to close the seal fisheries. this man had told him how the gunboats had opened their way through the ice-floes. the idea had appealed to the young skipper. consequently, on boarding the submarine, he had carried under his arm a package which he handled very carefully, and finally deposited in the very center of a great bale of fur clothing. there it still remained. "i suppose i might tell him," he said to himself. "but i guess i won't. 'blessed is he that expecteth nothing,' the trick might not work. i'll wait." he turned to where the mechanics were hard at work adjusting the new propeller. the repairing had gone on for something over two hours. the water-channel had completely closed. the doctor was pacing the ice, lost in reflection. like a flash, there came into dave's mind a new problem: would the current be content merely to close the channel, or would the ice soon begin to buckle and pile? with an uneasy mind, he urged the workmen to hasten, at the same time keeping an eye on the line of ice where the channel had so lately been. chapter xvii "so this is the pole" many of the disasters which threaten us in this life pass us by. so it was with the impending disaster of piling ice near the submarine. it did not pile. but there remained the problem of getting the submarine through that six-foot roof to the water beneath. how was it to be done? the doctor still paced back and forth, his unrest written in the furrows of his brow. the jackies, cheerful as ever, worked at their shift of repairing the craft, or, when not at work, played at "duck-on-rock" with chunks of ice. once a seal appeared in a water-hole. had he not departed promptly, there would have been fried seal steak and roast seal heart for supper. a lumbering bear, that had evidently never seen a human being before, was not so fortunate. his pelt was added to the trophies of the expedition, and his meat was ground into rather tough hamburger. finally the mechanics announced that the submarine was again in perfect condition. now was the time to try dave's last trick. sending three men to stretch a hundred-fathom cable from the submarine, and to anchor its farther end to a great ice-pan, he dropped below to return at once with a package. cautioning the men not to follow him, he walked away seventy-five yards, bent over the center of an ice-pan, seemingly to adjust certain things and put others in order. this done, he strung a black cord-like affair from his little pile of objects. he then measured off ten paces, and repeated these operations. he then lighted a small gasoline torch, and held the tip of the second cord-like affair to it, then raced to the other for the same purpose. when this was done, he sped away toward his companions. his actions were quickly understood by the watching crew. the furrows on the doctor's brow had become mere lines. he was smiling hopefully. when dave tripped over an ice boulder there was a cry of alarm, but he was up in a second, and found shelter with his men. instinctively everyone ducked. then came two roaring explosions in quick succession. bits of splintered ice fell around them like hail. before the ice fragments had ceased falling, everyone was climbing to the top of the ice-pile. what they saw caused a shout of joy. where the ice-pan had been was a long stretch of black water that slowly widened until it was quite large enough to float the submarine and allow it to submerge. at once every man was at his task. the submarine moved slowly toward the water. there followed a dip, a great splash, a wild "hurrah!" and five minutes later they were once more on their way to the pole. but, during this time, dave's active mind had been working on another problem, which might appear to have been settled, but had not been: the drift of the floe. if the ice did not pile when the floes came together, why was it? it seemed to him there could be but one answer; other water-channels beyond the drift, under which they now traveled, were being closed by counter-currents. and if they closed, one after the other, more rapidly than the advance of the submarine, what was finally to become of the submarine crew? would they not perish for lack of air? dave did not share the cheerful mood of the doctor and the crew; it was his turn to look worried. many hours later, his worst fears having been realized, he found himself again in the little room of many wheels and dials. hour after hour they had shot beneath the varying surface of the floe, but not for one hopeful second had they caught the dark shadow of open water. as near as he could reckon, allowing for the ever-present currents, dave believed they were nearing the pole. but his brain was now throbbing as if a hundred trip-hammers were pounding upon it. moments alone would tell the tale, for the oxygen in the air was exhausted. already half the crew were unconscious; others were reeling like drunken men. the doctor had been the first to succumb to the poison of polluted air. in this crisis dave was not alone at the wheel. the eskimo boy, azazruk, was by his side. it was for just such a time as this that he had taught the bright young native something of the control of the mechanism. each wheel of the operating devices was numbered. he had taught the eskimo a formula by pains-taking repetition. "if ever the time comes when all are sick, no one can move but you," he had said many times, "and if at that time you see black waters above, act quickly. one--seven--ten--three--five, remember that. one wheel at a time, quickly but surely; one--seven--ten--three--five." "one--seven--ten--three--five," the eskimo boy had faithfully repeated after him, and rolled his eyes half in amusement and half in terror. "wheel one is for rise, seven for fans, ten to stop, three to lift the outer-hatch, five the inner-hatch," dave had explained. "but you only need to remember one--seven--ten--three--five." somehow, dave had come to believe that this hardy young alaskan, reared as he had been, under perfect conditions of food, air, light and exercise, could, if the test ever came, survive his civilized companions. now, as he reeled and a great wave of dizzy sickness came over him, while he sank to the floor, dave was glad he had taught azazruk; for the boy, with a strange, strained look of terror in his eye, stood still at the wheel. dimly he felt, rather than saw, a dark shadow pass over them. as in a dream he whispered the magic formula: "one--seven--ten--three--five." faintly he heard the grind of the wheels, felt the fan's breath on his cheek, then all was lost in unconsciousness. * * * * * after ten solid hours of sleep the airplane party awoke to find their dogs whining and pawing at the entrance to their shelter. "guess they're hungry," said barney, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "now if we could only locate a seal in some water-hole, it would help out our scanty supply of food." "suppose we try," said bruce, slipping into his skin garments and looking to his rifle. "all right," said barney, and without delay they were hurrying to a pressure ridge of ice from whose top they might hope to locate the nearest water-lead. this took them some distance from their camp, but since the air was still and the moon flooded everything with light as of day, this did not worry them. they had reached the height, and were scanning the long lead of water something like a mile to the left of them, when bruce gave a cry of surprise, and, pointing to the south end of the lead, exclaimed: "what's that immense black thing rising from the water? can't be a whale up here, can it?" "impossible! and, look! there's something rising from the center of it! it can't be--yes--it is! it's the submarine!" barney tumbled from the ice ridge and went sprinting away over the ice. his boyhood pal, dave tower, was on that submarine. with greater deliberation, bruce attracted the attention of the major. together they hurried after their companion. the sight that met their eyes as they reached the edge of the water-channel filled them with consternation. the eskimo boy and barney were hurriedly carrying limp, motionless forms from the submarine into the outer air. their worst fears were groundless, however, for after two hours of faithful work they restored the last one of the crew to consciousness. the last to recover was the doctor. "which goes to prove," smiled dave, "that when you most need a doctor, that's the time he's most likely to be sick." there was a moment of joyful reunion between the two pals, barney and dave. as for the explorers, after the danger had passed, they seemed to take little notice of one another. the doctor soon was able to rise unsteadily, and, supported by two of his men, he dragged himself back and forth across the ice. when, at last, he had full possession of his faculties, he suddenly darted into the submarine, reappearing a moment later with instruments. at sight of these, the major's attention once more turned to the task he had left. with backs turned, not twenty yards apart, the two great rivals began taking observations. carefully they spread lines of mercury for an artificial horizon, and painstakingly adjusting their instruments, began to take readings. then, turning to their nautical almanacs, they figured. for some time an awed silence fell on the little group. presently the two men rose, facing one another. smiles played about their lips. for a second they stood thus, then starting toward each other, they extended hands for a clasp--the grip of a mutual admiration. "gentlemen," said the major, the huskiness in his voice betraying his emotion, "we are now within five miles of the pole, and that is as close an observation as any man can hope to make." "might as well call it the pole," smiled the doctor. "i make it three miles." for a time silence again reigned, then it was dave who spoke. "so this is the pole!" he exclaimed. "well, then, it's time for a bit of jazz. bring on your instruments of torture." jazz always was imperfect music, and here, with untutored musicians and rude instruments, it was imperfection itself; but it is doubtful if any music ever soothed unstrung nerves as did this bit of jazz that rent the midnight silence at the top of the world. the applause which followed awakened echoes among the ice-piles, and sent a lone doveky away into the shadows. "well," said the doctor, as the echoes of the last burst of jazz died away, "major, i suppose we are to have the pleasure of your company on our return journey. am i right?" "i am afraid so," the major smiled a bit wanly. "guess our plane is at last beyond repair." "but i say," ejaculated barney, "you can stow the remains of our plane somewhere below, can't you?" "why--er--yes," smiled the doctor. "we've considerable space now, since using the fuel and food. but why freight the junk? what's the grand idea?" "i think we can get a bunch of sled-timber and canvas from the whalers at point barrow and rig her up again." "why? you'll be welcome to come with us all the way." "bruce here, and i," began barney, and bruce grinned at the mention of his name, "have a very special mission that takes us cross-country rather than by water. much as we should like to accept your kind invitation, our mission makes the other route imperative, if it is at all possible to take it." he told them the story of la vaune, of timmie and the ancient pay-roll. "that being the case," agreed the doctor, "i shall be glad to assist you by freighting your plane to point barrow, and i now release my entire crew to help you in demounting it and bringing it to the submarine." as the gobs joined the two young aviators in a wild race across the ice-floes, with jarvis straining after them, the major turned a smiling face toward the doctor, as he remarked: "as fine a bunch as i ever saw." "you're right," said the doctor, "and deserving of a rich reward." "speaking of rewards," said the major quickly, "how about that ten thousand which comes to some of us? i had promised it to my boys, had i won." "and i the same," smiled the doctor. "the puzzle is, who's won!" "suppose we split, fifty-fifty, and, following our original plan, each give his share to his boys." "splendid! just the right thing!" exclaimed the major. "it's a go!" the doctor grasped the major's hand. and this was the glad news that awaited the men as they returned, some dragging poles, some carrying rolls of canvas, while others urged, pushed and pulled at the dog-team drawing a sled on which was loaded the liberty motor. to the aviators was to go five thousand dollars; to the jackies, five thousand. "nothing of the kind!" exclaimed bruce indignantly. "i should say nix!" echoed barney. "why, what could be fairer?" said the doctor, a puzzled look on his face. "why," barney declared, feeling sure he was also speaking for his partner; "we each get two thousand five hundred, and your men who have worked as hard and risked as much, each get a fraction of that sum. i say, nothing doing. share and share alike, man for man, them's my sentiments. get out your pencil and see how many times ten goes in ten thousand. a thousand times? a thousand apiece, that's something like! enough to have a whale of a good time on, or buy a farm. pay your money and take your choice. step up, gents, and try your luck!" when the gobs realized that this wild harangue meant that the aviators wished to split the whole reward with them, they were at first urgent in protest, and, when this availed them nothing, they went wild with cheers for the true sports of the aviation department. of course this all called for another burst of jazz, after which came the work of packing away the parts of the airplane, in which task the gobs showed an enthusiasm which told better than shouts what they thought of the young aviators. after the stars and stripes had been planted on a high ice-pinnacle, a rather solemn supper was eaten in the lee of a giant ice-cake. then, with the jazz band playing "star spangled banner," the submarine sank and the homeward journey was begun. a fortunate voyage brought them to point barrow in sixty-eight hours. there the aviators found the supplies they needed, and began at once preparing for the overland trip. the doctor and the major decided to proceed down the coast by dog-team to cape prince of wales, where they would catch the first boat in the spring. the submarine crew were put "on their own" and instructed to follow down the coast in a safe and leisurely fashion, to report their arrival at the naval station in seattle. bruce and barney succeeded in rigging out the plane in a very satisfactory manner, and one day in early spring they again alighted in timmie's stubble, much to the joy of the entire family. and a few days later they made a landing in the old athletic field of brandon college, where a very happy girl, who had been watching the plane with a wistful eye, came rushing out to meet them. when bruce pressed into her hand a package, and told her of its contents, tears came to her eyes--tears of joy that her struggles were over, but also tears of thankfulness for the safe return of those who had done so much for her. the submarine crew arrived in seattle in due time. there, before they separated for a long leave, which was sure to be followed by honorable discharge, five of them agreed to pool their share of the prize money to charter a craft, preferably a submarine, and go in search of the treasure city of siberia. there was talk, too, of an attempt to induce bruce and barney to join them on the expedition, as an airplane, which could be stowed in the submarine when not in use, would be of inestimable service to them. bruce and barney in due time collected the reward offered for the destruction of the outlaw wireless station. as for the major and the doctor, there is still much speculation in many quarters as to their identity. and, as for myself, i am not able to add any information on the subject. * * * * * the solving of the mystery of the city of gold was, at last, left to david tower and jarvis. the story of this adventure will be told in the next volume of the snell mystery stories for boys series which will be entitled "panther-eye." proofreading team at http://www.fadedpage.com aviation eagles of the sky or with jack ralston along the air lanes by ambrose newcomb author of "the sky detectives," etc., etc. published by the goldsmith publishing co. chicago eagles of the sky copyright the goldsmith publishing co. made in u. s. a. contents i ready for business ii the curtiss-robin plane iii like a night owl on the wing iv the dance of the fireflies v a battle royal vi the tear-bomb attack vii a white elephant on their hands viii the spoils of victory ix engineer perk on deck x tampa bound xi perk holds the fort xii old enemies face to face xiii when greek met greek xiv the coast guard men xv with the coming of the moon xvi the lockheed-vega flying ship xvii okechobee, the mystery lake xviii the master crook xix the scent grows warmer xx denizens of a florida swamp xxi the mysterious coquina shack xxii the man of many faces xxiii a pugnacious rattler xxiv on hands and knees xxv perk demands more water xxvi the fight at the well xxvii at bay xxviii the come-back xxix a last resort xxx fetching in their man eagles of the sky chapter i ready for business when the "big boss" at secret service headquarters in washington sent jack ralston and his pal, gabe perkiser, to florida with orders to comb the entire gulf coast from the ten thousand islands as far north as pensacola and break up the defiant league of smugglers, great and small, that had for so long been playing a game of hide-and-seek with the coast guard revenue officers, the task thus assigned was particularly to the liking of those two bold and dependable sky detectives. they loved nothing better than _action_--never felt entirely happy unless matching their wits against those of skulking law breakers--while to sup with danger, and run across all manner of thrilling adventures--that was a daily yearning with them. since so much of their work must of necessity take them over that vast stretch of salt water lying between the florida coast and the far distant mexican shore line, the wise men in washington had supplied jack with a speedy plane of the amphibian type, capable of making landings either on shore or in any of the numerous inlets dotting the coast, it being equipped with both aluminum pontoons and adjustable wheels. jack had spent several days at the capital, conferring with various high officials, being thus put in possession of every available scrap of reliable information at the disposal of the department. he had also been given documents of authority, calling upon each and every government agent in all florida to afford him any possible assistance, should he require such backing while learning the identity of the "higher-up" capitalists guilty of financing the secret clique that had been giving the revenue men such trouble recently. the fact was well known that besides the valuable _caches_ of unset diamonds, and other precious stones, coming surreptitiously into the country without yielding the customary heavy duty imposed on them, there was also being smuggled into the innumerable lonely bayous and inlets of the lengthy coast line vast quantities of contraband in violation of the eighteenth amendment, also batches of undesirable aliens like chinese, anarchists and bolsheviks, such riffraff as uncle sam had been holding off under a strict ban. so, too, it was understood that besides the fleet of swift, small power-boats employed night after night in this profitable game of mocking the treasury department, latterly the smugglers had been freighting their cargoes by means of airplanes that would be able to land the contraband stuff in lonely places far back of the low coast sections. it was therefore a monumental task, covering a wide field of operation and with constant peril hovering over the heads of the two adventurous aviators who had undertaken so joyously to spread the net and draw its meshes about the offenders. their preparations having been completed, they were waiting in an isolated little bayou surrounded by inaccessible swamps and mangrove islands ready to take off with the coming of the friendly shades of night. to those who enjoyed reading the preceding volume of this series of aviation adventures, where jack and "perk," in order to get their man--one of the boldest and most successful counterfeiters known in the annals of crime--found it necessary to fly across the mexican boundary line and snatch their victim out of an extinct volcano crater that had once been the fort of the fierce yaqui indian tribe,[ ] will think it a rather far cry for the sky detectives to be detailed to active duty some thousands of miles distant, and in the extreme southeastern corner of the republic. so it always must be with the famous secret service men--their motto, like that of our present day boy scouts, is "be prepared"; for day and night they must hold themselves in readiness to start to the other side of the world if necessary--china, japan, india, the philippines perhaps--detailed to fetch back some notorious malefactor wanted by uncle sam, and information of whose presence in distant lands has reached headquarters. as a rule it was perk's duty to see that their flying ship was well stocked with all necessary supplies, from liquid fuel and lubricating oil down to such food stores as they would require, even if forced to remain for days, or a week, without connections along the line of groceries and commissary stuff. perk himself was an odd mixture of new england and canuck blood, one branch of his family living in maine, while the other resided across the border. hence perk sometimes chose to call himself a yankee; and yet for a period of several years he had been a valued member of the northwestern mounted police, doing all manner of desperate stunts up in the cold regions of canada. he was considerably older than his gifted chum and had seen pretty hot service flying in france while with pershing's army in the argonne. it was his knowledge of aviation in general that had caused jack to pick him as his assistant when the government decided to fight fire with fire, by pitting their own pilots and aircraft against those employed by the powerful combine of smuggling aces. sometimes it chanced that jack, for good and sufficient reasons of his own, did not fully explain the necessity for making plans along certain lines. this was not because he lacked confidence in his loquacious chum's ability to keep a still tongue in his head or exercise due caution, but usually through a desire to make doubly sure of his own ground before submitting the arrangement to perk's sharp criticism, which jack valued even more than the other suspected. consequently perk, with the yankee half of his blood stirred by an ever present curiosity, wanted to know and invariably asked numerous questions in the endeavor to find a leading clue. it was in the late fall and already the advance guard of the winter tourist crowds had begun to arrive from the north, in ever increasing numbers, all set for an enjoyable winter in the sunny resorts of both coasts. jack had already made quite a thorough investigation and picked up some important clues that he meant to run down in hopes one of them might lead to definite results. the amphibian floated on the surface of the isolated bayou with glimpses of the open gulf toward the golden west forming an alluring picture as seen between the jaws of sand points, with palmettoes guarding the entrance to the sheltered nook. it was just sunset, and inside another hour the night would have advanced far enough to permit their departure on the first leg of their intended flight up the coast. perk was exceedingly fond of his pipe and choice tobacco, and looked the picture of contentment as he squatted in his seat, scratching his ankle, where a burning sensation told him he had once again been visited by the tiny but venomous red-bug pest which he hated with all his heart. "drat the little beggars," he was muttering as he kept on digging at his leg, "they sure do beat anything i ever run acrost in all my wanderin's. it ain't so bad to be slappin' at pesky skeeters, 'cause i'm used to sich bloodsuckers; but sandflies, and' jiggers, an' redbugs make a combination that'd be hard to beat." "try that kerosene again, brother," advised jack, who somehow seemed to be a favored one, since he was immune from similar attacks, and greatly envied on that account by his unlucky; pal. "yeah!" growled the usually good tempered perk, "i've rubbed that on, an' witch hazel, an' all sorts o' lotions till i guess now i smell like a stick-pot set out, with old rags smoulderin' to keep the skeets away. salt water helps a mite, but this scratchin' which i just can't let up on to save my life, makes things worse right along." thereupon he kicked off his shoes, removed his socks, and thrust both feet over the side to dabble them in the saline water of the lagoon. "keep an eye out for that big 'gator we scared off the bank a while back," warned jack, wickedly, "he might think it was a wild duck splashing, and try to pot it for his supper." "huh! mebbe now that's about the only way to get relief--let him snap the foot off an' it won't itch me any more." nevertheless, despite this reckless assertion perk quickly ceased his splashing and resumed his footgear, heroically refraining from rubbing the affected parts. after a short interval of staring at the glowing heavens, as if the sight fairly fascinated him, perk again spoke, this time finding something of more importance than insect bites to talk about. "wall," he drawled in his customary slow fashion, "here's hopin' we ain't agoin' to be knocked out in our calculations tonight, but get a line on what the boys are doin' up the coast, eh, partner?" "won't be our fault if we don't," said jack, who doubtless recognized from the signs that his mate had something in his mind, which he meant to spring on him by cautious insinuations and half questions. "a right decent crate that was we saw pass over early this morning i'd say, old hoss," continued perk, nodding his head as if to punctuate his remarks and also to cause his thoughts to flow more smoothly. "i had a good peep at it as we lay behind that bunch o' saw palmetto out front, an' unless i'm away off in my guess, she was a curtiss-robin ship--a big crate in the bargain." "they need them big in their line of business," jack went on significantly. "a full cargo of wet goods is pretty heavy, you know, perk." "you said it, partner," assented the other, grinning amiably and yet with a shade of yankee cunning. "an' what's more to the p'int the guy handlin' the stick was no slouch at his job, b'lieve me. i wonder now could he have been that oscar gleeb we been hearin' so much about since comin' down here,--got an idea he might abeen, ain't you, boss?" "just as like as not," jack told him. "huh! some go as far as to say he used to be a boche pilot in that fuss across the big water," continued perk, reflectively, as though certain memories of the long-ago had awakened in his brain--recollections that breathed of action, staccato machine-gun fire, exploding shells, and the terrible odor of gas that had poisoned so many of his former mates. "yes, they said there wasn't any doubt about that," jack asserted. "after the war was over and he couldn't find work in his home country, he managed to get to america and has cut quite a figure in flying circles. i reckon he was tempted by the big money in the smuggling game to take a job with this combine along the coast and has been fetching heaps of cargoes ashore from vessels anchored far out on the gulf, or even across from bimini or santa fe beach near havana over in cuba." "by jinks!" ejaculated perk, "that there's the place we learned they was shippin' chinks over to florida from, ain't it jack, boy?" "just what it was," admitted the other. "it seems that this big combine, made up of rich american sporting men, with a mixture of cubans and adventurers from all nations, doubles up in crashing uncle sam's coast gates with aliens, as well as hard stuff in bottles and barrels." "me, i'm jest awonderin'?" continued perk, "whether it could a'happened that this same oscar gleeb an' me ever hit it up and had an air duel tryin' to strafe each other when flyin' across no-man's-land over there. kinder like to meet up with him so we could run over our scraps an' see if one o' us sent t'other down in a blazin' coffin. it'd be funny if it turned out that way." "queer things do happen sometimes," agreed jack, yawning. "this warm day's made me feel a bit lazy but as soon as we get a move on all that will slip away like fog under the morning sun." "i say, partner, how 'bout that greek sponger we talked with when we dropped in at tarpon springs t'other day--you kinder s'pected he knew a heap more about these goin's-on than he wanted us to grab, even if we was jest s'posed to be northern tourists, bent on havin' a fishin' spree later on when big tarpon strike in around fort myers--could them spongers have a hand afetchin' in bottled stuff, or ferryin' chinks over from some island halfway point?" "some folks seem to think that possible," he was told. "after looking over the ground, and getting the opinion of a heap of people who ought to have an intelligent opinion covering the facts known and suspected, i've come to the conclusion that if ever there was a time when you could play safe by suspecting everybody you met of having some sort of money interest in this big game, it's down along the florida west coast and like as not over toward miami just the same. i'm not trusting my secrets to a living soul, saving a few government agents to whom i've been directed by my superiors--and i'm even a bit leery about some of that bunch." "yeah! from this time on seems to me we'd be wise to play a lone hand, an' not bother about takin' any gyps into our confidence, eh what, jack?" "you never said truer words, my boy," assented the other, smiling as he noted the look of pleasure flashing across the bronzed face of his pal at thus having his own opinion confirmed; for perk valued a few words of praise from jack far above any other source. "kinder get to thinkin' that greek sponger--alexis was his name, if my memory ain't gimme the bounce--was a bit o' a sharper, an' knew beans in the bargain from the way them black eyes o' his'n kept watchin' us all the time we asked questions, just like we'd heard people sayin' queer things concernin' how easy it was to grab any quantity o' bottled stuff if on'y you had the ready cash, an' a good eye for winkin'." "we may know more about alexis before we're through with this trip," was all jack would say concerning the matter. "on my part i'm shaking hands with myself because we were smart enough to camouflage our ship with green stuff for that pilot passed over and could have glimpsed our crate lying half hidden here, and through his glasses--which i understand they all carry--made out how it didn't match up with any of the aircraft they use in their business." "thanks to you, partner," perk hastened to confess. "if it all depended on my poor head i kinder guess i'd a'slipped up right then an' there an' give the hull scheme away which would a'been a danged shame, an' busted the game higher'n a kite." "we make a pretty good team, matey," said jack. "sometimes it's you that goes loco, and threatens to step off your base, and then another time i feel myself side-slipping and have to lean on you to hold my own. that's just how it should be with partners--give and take, with never a bleat if our calculations go wrong." "it's right nice o' you to talk that way, brother," perk hastened to assert, beaming with pride and making out as if tempted to begin scratching again when jack reaching around, gently steered his clutching fingers away from the itching locality, at which perk heaved a relieved sigh and nodded his thanks. "the sky has lost most of that glorious color," mentioned the head pilot, "and before long now we can be hopping-off. our first job will be to swing down the coast and learn if there seems to be anything going on among the southern islands in this beastly mangrove section where a man could easy enough lose himself for keeps among the countless water passages and inlets. see here, what's the matter with you, staring that way, perk?" "wouldn't that jar you now," snapped the other, "that robin ship is headin' back this way; or else some other crate that looks like its twin!" [footnote : see "_the sky detectives_; or _how jack ralston got his man_."] chapter ii the curtiss-robin plane jack, a bit startled by his companion's sudden exclamation, took a good look and hastened to remark: "reckon now you hit the nail on the head that time, perk and it's heading this way in the bargain. why d'ye suppose we didn't see the crate before?" "huh! i kinder guess now," perk went on to say, "she bust out o' that little fog cloud right to the south--a'swoopin' up the coast, you notice, partner, don't you?" "sure is," assented jack, as though that small circumstance assumed some importance in his eyes, as well as those of his comrade. "ginger pop! but mebee i ain't glad we didn't show any hurry to kick off this camouflage green stuff, thinkin' it'd served its purpose okay and could be knocked into the discard. see how they keep dodging' in an' out like they might be scourin' every foot o' shore line, little bays back o' these mangrove islands an' all. strikes me they're a'searchin' for somethin', jack, which might be the pair o' us, eh, what?" "right you are!" snapped jack, without hesitating a second. "which, i take it, would mean there might a'been some sort o' little leak up at headquarters, hang the luck, when we figured we'd got the gang buffaloed right smart. don't think they c'n lamp us lyin' here, do you, boss?" "small chance of that, boy, if only we lie low, and make no move apt to attract their attention," perk was told in a confident tone that effectually calmed his rising alarm. he hastened to settle down in a position where he could thrust his glasses between interstices in the green covering of the fusilage and wings so as to keep close tabs on the advancing plane without making any particular movement of arms or body. "how?" asked jack, a few seconds later, when he fancied his mate must have made up his mind as to the identity of the flying ship. "curtiss-robin crate, that's right, jack an' the same we saw before," replied the observer, excitedly. "hey! guess now they got a glass up there too. i sure saw the sun shinin' on somethin' bright, 'cause the old boy's still on deck to chaps that high up." "i've discounted that fact long ago, perk; men engaged in the desperate game they're playing night after night would need such a useful instrument, so's to keep a sharp lookout for coast guard boats or bunches of revenue men lying in ambush close to the place they expected to land a wet cargo, or a couple of high-pay chinks, it might be." "then you got an idea they must have a spy up in washington--a sneaker who c'n find out what's bein' hatched up so's to cook their goose an' that he manages to get warnin' down here to the workin' crews so's to put 'em on their guard--is that it, partner?" "looks that way--that's all i can say, perk. now lie low and don't do any talking, though with their crate kicking up all that row i reckon there'd be small chance of their hearing us even if we shouted." perk was chuckling to himself at a great rate and could not keep from taking advantage of the invitation jack had really extended to say: "yeah! an' i kinder guess now we got one thing they ain't, which is a silencer on our engine that'll keep it muzzled, even if it does knock off a bit o' our speed when we happen to use it. luckiest thing ever you managed to get the big boss to send us such a bully contrivance that seems to work jest great. listen to the racket they're kickin' up right now--enough to tell any chump ten miles off a crate's headin' his way. jerusalem crickets! but ain't i glad we're fixed as we are." the ship far up in the heavens was almost directly over them by this time and perk relapsed into silence, being vastly interested in watching it passing over. possibly he had his eyes glued on the figures--there were two occupants in the robin's cabin he could easily see--leaning over and doubtless closely scrutinizing the intricacies of the ragged shoreline below, hoping to make important discoveries. if the leading figure, piloting the craft, was actually oscar gleeb, onetime noted hun ace over in the argonne, it might be perk, with his past war history rising up to thrill him afresh, may have found himself half expecting to hear a terrific explosion close by on the shore as the german flier let drop some sort of bomb, with the idea of striking their concealed bus which his keen eyes might have detected despite their wonderful camouflage. but nothing like that came to pass and the cruising ship kept moving in a northerly direction, growing less distinct as miles were being covered at the fast clip it swept along. "cripes! that was worth somthin' to glimpse, bet your sweet life, partner," perk finally observed as he ventured to make a little movement, feeling dreadfully cramped and the danger of discovery growing momentarily less as the first shades of coming evening began to gather around the secluded cove. "jest as like as not they started away down toward the tip o' the mainland, an' hev been examinin' every mile o' the coast, bent on doin' a clean job while they're at it. an' if they meet up with no luck mebbe now they'll make up their minds it was only a false alarm, and let her go at that." presently they could no longer glimpse the faintest sign of the scout plane--when last seen it was still heading up the coast as though making for some destination where action awaited the members of its daring crew. "the passing of that crate settles one thing, anyway," observed jack presently. "as what, partner?" queried perk, who had already begun to denude the anchored amphibian of its covering, as though it was settled they need no longer fear being spied upon from above. "we needn't bother striking into the south when starting out to look for suspicious lights, such as would tell of business being put through--those boys are right now heading for their rendezvous and it's our game to chase after them, as soon as nightfall makes it safe to get a move on." "that suits me fine, jack old hoss. i'm right sick o' keepin' our nose stuck so close to the ground--me for the high places where i c'n get my lungs filled with clean air--this swamp stuff don't make no sort o' hit with me, i'm tellin' you. gosh! looky at that bunch o' measly big pelicans flappin' their wings as they fly close to the water, headin' to some island where they have a rookery, like as not. an' jack, honest to goodness if i didn't see the head an' knobby eyes o' a monster scaly 'gator stickin' up out o' the water in the lagoon jest now. got me goofy, this sorter thing, an' i'm asighin' for the air lanes two miles high." "i understand just how you feel, perk, but hold your horses a bit. hurry is something we've got to fight shy of in this game of hide-and-seek with these dangerous smugglers of the gulf coast. as smart a group of men as we can ever claim to be, have bucked up against the gang and dropped out of the chase--more than a few of whom have disappeared mysteriously, and up at headquarters it's believed they've met with foul play. this big mex gulf hides a heap of secrets and has ever since old blackbeard and that crowd of buccaneers used to sink spanish galleons after looting them of their gold cargo and sending hundreds of poor wretches to a watery grave." "i'm wise to all them facts, partner," piped up perk, grinning amiably, "an' i sure don't hanker after bein' sent down to that port o' missin' men in no hurry. i'll stick it out on this line jest as long as you say an' try to keep from grumblin'. thar goes the last o' the rotten stuff overboard, boss, an' we're all clear again. while we're a'waitin' till the last speck o' daylight slickers away, wouldn't it be right smart if we set our teeth in some o' that fine grub i laid in, to keep us from starvin' to death?" "suits me okay, buddy; suppose you trot it out and we'll pas the time away bolstering up our strength--no telling what we may have before us tonight if we happen to strike rich pay-dirt." accordingly they busied themselves with what to perk especially was a most agreeable occupation, for it must be confessed that the maine lad possessed a fairly good appetite while his capacity for storing away good things was something close to marvelous. so the night settled down around them--sounds indicative of a florida coast camping ground began to make themselves manifest--mullet jumped up out of the brackish water where some stream emptied its tide straight from the everglades into the gulf, to fall back again with resounding splashes. now and then there was a rush, and a great deal of agitation of the water close to one of the mangrove islands, showing where some fierce piratical deep water fish was making an evening meal of the unlucky mullet--several wild ducks came spinning along from other shore places to settle further in where the reedy islands offered effectual shelter from night-raiding owls and hawks that could see in the dark. "gee whiz!" perk was saying as he finished eating and started to put away what sandwiches and other stuff had been left over, "this sure must be a dandy place to do some shore shootin' an' if i hadn't other fish to fry i'd like to hang around a week'r so, takin' toll o' ducks, turkey, an' deer up on the mainland, with like as not a bobcat, or even a panther in the bargain!" "all very fine for those who are down here sporting for sport, brother," jack told him, "but our bunch has another kind of game to pull in and you've got to forget all this temptation so as to buckle down to business. reckon it's time for us to be hopping-off and getting that taste of cool, clean air a mile or so up. shake a leg, buddy, and we'll shove off." jack, of course, had long since figured just what he meant to do when the moment arrived to leave their hiding place and take to their wings again, so after their little anchor had been drawn out of the mud, carefully washed, and then stowed away where it would take little room and not be in the way, each of the occupants of the double cockpit set about carrying out their customary duties when a launching was in order. "all set, mister pilot!" remarked perk, finally, "give her the gun, boy!" with only a fraction of the rush and roar usually connected with a start, the amphibian, with cut-out choked down, commenced to glide through the water of the partly enclosed bay, heading straight for the jaws of land beyond which lay the open and mighty gulf. chapter iii like a night owl on the wing the rush and gurgle of the water parted by the pontoons beneath the fuselage of the plane was sounding most delightful to the ears of perk as he sat there watching the jaws of land draw rapidly nearer. resting up was always a painful thing to perk whose nerves called for action and had done so ever since he served in the flying corps across the atlantic when men's souls thrilled with frequent contacts in the line of equally daring hun war pilots. now they had shot past the twin points and were out upon the open gulf, their speed increasing every second as jack pulled the stick closer against his chest. then the experienced pilot lifted her in a zoom that was simply magnificent, and they were off on their adventure at last. rising fast, the boat was soon at a good ceiling for flying. so too the night promised all manner of favorable things for men of their calling--up where they were the wind did not amount to much but it was blowing at quite a lively rate closer to the earth and doubtless the broad palmetto leaves must be making a considerable slashing as they struck one another, dead and withered ones sawing like some giant violin bow. this, with the wash of the waves upon the pebbled beach, would make enough noise to effectually deaden the whirr of the propeller--the new and novel muffler or silencer, fashioned very much on the order of such a contraption as successfully applied to small firearms, was doing wonderfully, and perk every little while made motions as though shaking hands with himself because of this addition to their security, for under the usual conditions prevailing anything like secrecy in a noisy airship had been unknown to the sky detectives. perk had been under a strange hallucination when that other plane was soaring overhead--in fact he was once again back in the argonne, with his boat hugging the earth, and an enemy swooping in circles overhead--he had even gone so far as to imagine the german war ace might be maneuvering so as to drop one of his bombs straight down on the stranded craft, with results that must spell a complete wipeout. when they did not have their handy earphones in service jack and his right bower had arranged a secret alphabet of signals, consisting of all manner of pokes and nudges, by means of which they were enabled to communicate along professional lines at least. if it seemed necessary to perk to ask questions not down on the brief list thus worked out, all he had to do was to adjust jack's harness and then his own little outfit, enabling him to chatter away to his heart's content--and often to the annoyance of his less talkative chum. but first of all he proceeded to make good use of the binoculars upon which so much depended. from side to side he would swing the glasses and search for anything that looked like a suspicious light on land or water then turn to what lay dead ahead. in this region of the ten thousand islands--all fashioned from the queer spreading mangrove that drops its long seeds so that they stick upright in the mud, and, quickly developing roots, spring up to add to the dimension of the original "island" there were never at any time many settlers so that the coast has been reckoned as the "loneliest ever," on which account perk realized that if he should happen to glimpse a light, whether on land or gulf, the chances were fifty to one it might have some connection with the operations of the smuggler league. perk remembered how that curtiss-robin ship had finally disappeared in the haze lying to the north and from this he sucked more or less consolation, since it seemed evident the location of their job must lie in that quarter toward which they were now bound like a great owl swooping on noiseless pinions to seize its prey. a delicious thrill ran through his frame from time to time. if any one could "get a kick" from such a situation it was perk, who was already visioning some sort of a battle royal when they struck the smuggling gang in the midst of their lawless work. the gang did their best to create a reign of terror. once far out toward the west, where rolled the tides of the broad gulf that stretched for a distance of five hundred miles across to the coast of mexico, he certainly did glimpse a light, low down on the horizon where just the faintest gleam of the late departed day still lingered. ha! the mother ship no doubt, riding at anchor some miles out where the gulf was shallow and holding ground good--a heavily laden sailing craft, coming possibly from the bahamas, and passing into the gulf between the florida keys. its captain knowing that the cargo they carried could be much more easily landed there than around miami, where the coast guard was more vigilant. long and earnestly did perk stare, picturing the shore motorboats speeding out through the gloom toward that signal light to take aboard their several loads and make for certain secluded harbors where trucks would be waiting to transfer the illicit stuff to its destined markets where prices ranged high with the holidays approaching and rich, thirsty tourists to be supplied. "bang! it's gone blooie!" perk suddenly told himself as he no longer found himself able to distinguish that suspicious gleam which had gradually grown dim and then utterly vanished from view. "now, what in thunder does that mean i want to know--why should they douse the glim in such a hurry--wonder if they could have caught any sound from us to give 'em a scare? i'm in a tail-spin, seems like. oh i shucks! mebee it was on'y a measly star after all, that's set back o' the horizon. who got fooled that time, i want to know, gabe perkiser, you smarty?" he took it humorously, happening to be one of those sensible lads capable of laughing, even when the joke was on himself. shortly afterwards perk picked up what seemed to be a low-lying light, this time off toward the east, where he knew the land lay. "huh! i kinder guess that ain't a silly star," was the way he expressed his feelings as he continued to watch the glimmering object that rose and then grew dim, only to once more flash brightly. "might be some squatter sittin' alongside his campfire--mebbe a fishing camp, on'y i got an idea the light comes from a big lantern and not a blazing fire. strikes me it oughter bear watchin' just the same." a minute afterwards and he could no longer see the object of his concern. "by jinks! what sort o' hocus-pocus might _that_ be, i want to know--did somebody blow that light out just when i was hopin' big things might come from it, or was it only a bunch o' cabbage palms that come in between me an' the glow?" it did not reappear, although perk kept turning his glasses in that particular quarter time after time, as fresh hopes awakened. the amphibian was running as smooth as silk, perk told himself more than once--why not, when they had most carefully checked it over with scrupulous exactness, so as to be able to pronounce it in perfect condition. that new muffler did the work like magic and perk really began to feel as though the efficiency of their aerial mount had been increased a hundred per cent by the installation of such an up-to-date contrivance, even if it did cut their speed down more or less--when they had good need of swift wings it could be done away with, since racket was powerless to hurt them then. a few clouds had started up and were drifting overhead by this time. perk gave them several hasty looks, possibly wondering whether there could be any chance of a sudden blow arising since indeed they came from the southwest, where many of the rains and high winds had their brewing place, far out on the mighty gulf to be followed in turn by a "norther," cold and violent. "that might be rotten luck for us," he grumbled, sensing trouble in putting jack's scheme into operation, "but i guess there ain't anything to it--right cool even downstairs, i noticed an' they tell me it always heats up afore one o' these fall rains come along." he put that matter out of his mind as hardly worthy of attention then a minute later he made another discovery. again his attention was turned toward the west, for a light had appeared low down, a light that actually moved, this fact convincing the vigilant observer it could by no possibility be another setting star in the bright firmament above. "that's the genuine stuff, or i'll eat my hat!" was his characteristic way of confirming this fresh discovery, and there was certainly a trace of triumph noticeable in his voice, as though this would wipe out his former blunder. chapter iv the dance of the fireflies perk, now fully convinced that he had "struck oil," as he mentally termed it, laid the binoculars down on the front seat beside his pal and gave him certain nudges in his side, thereby telling him he, perk, would take over the controls while the head pilot used the glasses. when this had been accomplished perk managed to point toward the west, so as to draw the attention of his mate thither without any waste of precious time. of course jack immediately located the light and was watching it closely. he could easily make it out to be a lantern that must be on the deck of a vessel, since he discovered a mast and rigging near by, also the moving figures of several men. the lantern did not remain stationary more than a few seconds at a time, but kept up a swinging movement that was eccentric to say the least, now passing back and forth like the weighty pendulum in an old-fashioned "grandfather" clock; then with an up-and-down action and, as a windup performing a circular movement, repeated twice. of course jack understood that those on board the smuggler must be trying to signal to those of their group who were on shore, the land workers of the hard-working bunch, which conclusion caused him to turn his attention in that quarter. at first he was not rewarded by any discovery but not in the least discouraged he continued to wave his glasses back and forth, feeling certain those continuous signals from out on the gulf must be noticed and returned. he chanced to be again watching the moving gleam when he felt perk trying to gain his attention and when this had been accomplished pointing eagerly off to the east. yes, there it was as plain as anything--in fact there seemed to be two separate lights looking like twin stars and even as jack watched he saw them carry on in a most remarkable fashion. now one would be in violent motion, perhaps doing some intricate figure that had a meaning; then the other would join in, with the pair swinging back and forth, crossing each other's path, and going through the most wonderful evolutions. to jack's mind they looked like a pair of gigantic fireflies gone loco with excitement and carrying on in the most astonishing manner. indeed, he could easily picture it as a wild dance of make-believe insects on a greatly magnified scale. of course jack never had the slightest doubt as to what all this mystifying activity must be--the two extremes of the smuggling fraternity were exchanging signals--each and every movement had a meaning of its own and conveyed such information as was most valuable to the business in hand--in jack's mind it was as though the conversation might be running something after this fashion: "well, here we are on hand according to promise, with a full cargo of the finest wet stuff you ever had drop down on your coast. how does the land lie over there?" "coast all clear--we will start the fleet out to lighten your cargo right away--keep the beacon burning so they'll make a straight line to your anchorage, which will mean a saving of time." "we get your meaning--glad you are so prompt to send back word--come right along and get your invoice--the more the merrier, boys. wind getting rougher, and we ought to be off this shallow shore before it swings around any more. don't hold back--merry christmas to you all, boys!" perk on his part was also trying to keep tabs on all that was going on, not neglecting his duties with the controls, it can be set down as certain. he twisted his neck and cast swift glances first to the right and then in the opposite direction, fascinated by that flashing beacon conversation. "by gum! if they ain't holdin' a regular confab with them lights," perk was telling himself, delighted with his opportunity to witness such a proceeding, knowing as he did what this all meant to himself and jack. "that guy on shore is sure some punkins about this signal layout--works jest like a boy scout might, sending a message across to another o' the troop standin' on top o' a high peak--makes me think i'm back on the front, with signal corps men wigwaggin' for all that's out. huh! there goes them twin lights, showin' the chinnin' must be over with both sides posted on the program. say, ain't this the boss job though? i guess i never did get half as much fun outen any game i tackled before." just then jack signalled that he wished to handle the stick once more, which the other was indeed not sorry for, since it began to look as though they were close to a critical moment when considerable skill would be required in manipulating the ship so as to accomplish their ends without unduly alarming those they spied upon. already they had managed to collect a certain amount of valuable facts which were only guessed at previously, so cleverly had these transfer bases been kept concealed from the most skillful of the government agents. perk himself felt confident that they were as yet only on the threshold of still more important discoveries. it was one of perk's peculiar little eccentricities that he could do better thinking if only he had a bit of chewing gum between his teeth, just to keep some muscles at work, he said, and in some mysterious fashion having this energy pass from his working jaws to his brain and hasten its activities. so what did he do now but fumble in a pocket of his oily dungarees and produce a slab of his favorite brand, perk thrusting it into his mouth and savagely rolling it between his teeth, really believed this helped his brain to function more easily. perhaps it may have done so--some people have all manner of strange hallucinations, which, being favored, bring satisfaction to their train of thought. if perk actually believed in his remedy that was half the battle and no other person's business whatsoever. looking out to sea he could still find that lone beacon, even without the aid of his binoculars. it was easy for such an imaginative fellow to picture in his mind the lingering sloop, loaded to the gunwales with case goods, worth almost a millionaire's ransom--the dark sailors from bimimi lolling around on deck, ready to up-sail and flee should the slightest sign of a coast guard raid make itself manifest. from off toward the distant shore line there came dully to their listening ears the repeated throb of one or more speed boats hastening to lay alongside and transfer their prearranged quota of cases, after which the burden of getting the illicit cargo safely landed would rest on the shoulders of those who manned the smaller smuggler craft. it was a beautiful little game, perk was assuring himself, when he realized how everything had been arranged to make things work as though greased. as the isolated places along the gulf coast were without number and the enforcement agents woefully pressed to even half cover their allotted territory, the reason for the few arrests that had rewarded the most strenuous efforts on the part of the coast guard could be easily comprehended. "and that's just why they picked out jack, out of all the boys in the service, loaded him up with this here amphibian crate that c'n drop down on land or water, it don't matter a darn which, got him a sort o' side partner to help make things go and turned him loose to pull in the net. huh! we'll know before long just what this racket is goin' to wind up in, for we've made our first move, our hat's thrown into the ring, and we'll either make pike's peak, or--bust!" presently perk began to convince himself he could at times pick up the throbbing sound of a humming motor, undoubtedly one of those on their way out to the supply boat off shore some miles and ready to deliver such number of high-priced cases as the lists called for. yes, when the night wind veered or shifted a bit he was absolutely certain about picking up the chug-chug-chug that betrayed the presence of the leading speed boat. about this time perk noticed two separate things that had a bearing on their mission--the first was that for some reason they no longer romped along at their earlier speed, showing that the pilot had seen fit to slacken his craft to a considerable degree, though keeping up steerage way. the second thing that struck perk was the fact that they were slowly but surely making a decided swing off to the west, which if continued would make their immediate course a complete circle. "go to it, old hoss!" he was saying, just as if he expected the other to hear every word which was out of the question with that whirring propeller keeping up its low, sing-song tone. "you got 'em beat a mile when it comes to playin' safe, that's right. don't want to rile the water an' let everybody in on the fact that we're hangin' around here, waitin' for somethin' to turn up. 'sides, it ain't good policy to make the ten-strike till they got the stuff on board the chuggin' speed boat." he was intensely interested in jack's play for time and listened with his heart almost up in his throat, fearing lest the steady chugging should suddenly stop and the game be thrown by default. but no, it was keeping on in perfect rhythm, sounding in perk's ear something like the tattoo of a machine-gun in action and sending out its swarm of leaden missiles--a sound that had long ago become so familiar to his ears as never to be forgotten, despite the lapse of time. surely by now that leading boat must be getting close to the schooner so that the transfer would soon be an accomplished fact, after which the return trip was due to be started which was when they meant to break into the game. "ginger pop! if i don't ketch the grumble o' a second tug further away, and i guess now a consid'able bigger craft than the leadin' one. get a move on, fellers--the dinner gong's struck and the grub's on the table waitin' to be swallered--first come, first served's the rule things go by, so stir your stumps, an' put in the best licks you know how--an' may the devil take the hindmost. hey there! that drummin' noise, it's stopped--wonder if they got out to the sloop or else smell a rat an' are lyin' low till they make it a dead certainty? gosh, but ain't this all mighty thrillin' though, and how it does tickle me most to death," muttering which perk, still listening, actually held his breath the better to catch any sound from below. chapter v a battle royal jack, being desirous of ascertaining just what was taking place over where the sloop laden with contraband was anchored, did his best glide or coast, a feature at which he was most competent. when the engine ceased to function and the whizzing propeller lost much of its dizzy momentum, both he and perk strained their ears so as to catch any sound calculated to inform them as to what was going on. the trick proved worth while, for plainly they could make out human voices; also a certain rumbling sound that jack imagined might be caused by the rush back and forth of a small hand truck on which cases of imported liquid refreshment were loaded. this told the story to the effect that the speed launch must have reached the schooner and was lying alongside with its intended cargo being delivered with no loss of time. probably, if everything went with machine-like precision, the speed boat would soon be fully laden and started back toward some secret haven where big motor trucks would be waiting to transport the cargo to tampa, st. petersburg, or some other city to the north. meanwhile the second boat was due around that time--they could hear her hoarse exhaust as she bucked the billows rolling in toward the shore line and a moving light about half a mile distant betrayed her position. if one thing tickled perk more than another just then it was the realization that he and jack held aces in the game--their possession of that almost priceless muffler, by means of which they could approach fairly close without the working motor betraying their coming, gave them an enormous advantage. "we sure have got the upper hand in this tangle," perk was telling himself in great glee as he listened to the chugging of the second transfer boat. "huh! i kinder guess them guys been sleepin' at the switch not to savvy what a bully thing one o' these here silencers'd be to the smugglin' game. looks like it might be a walk-over for our team, if the luck on'y holds good." jack had about decided on his course of action. he did not mean that either of those boats should get safely ashore with their loads, if he had anything to say about it, and he reckoned he had. still, it was not politic to be too quick on the trigger--they could just continue to hang around and be ready to pounce down on their intended prey after the fashion of a hungry eagle striking a fat duck that had been selected out of the flock on the feeding grounds. one thing he did do was to cut his intended wide circle short and again head toward the scene of action, a move that certainly afforded the eager perk more or less satisfaction, he being thrilled with the expectation of breaking into the game without much more loss of time. but you never can tell just what may happen when rival forces are striving against one another. the best laid plans often go wrong and there was always a chance of the unexpected happening. hardly had the airship whipped around again so as to head into the north than perk became aware of the fact that there was a sudden accesssion of weird noises springing up from the goal toward which they were now aiming. jack, too must have caught the increased volume, for he sheered off as if to hold back a bit so as to grasp the meaning of the new racket. men were no longer simply talking or laughing as they so cheerfully labored in transferring some of the contraband from the sloop to the deck of the speedboat--their voices were raised to shouts in which surprise, even the element of near-panic, could be detected. then came a flash, succeeded by a sharp report, undoubtedly standing for the discharge of some species of firearm! others of a similar character immediately followed until there were all the elements of a genuine rough and tumble fight discernible in the growing confusion and uproar. perk was astounded by such unaccountable goings-on. whatever could possess these smugglers to start a fight among themselves, when such a disturbance was likely to be heard by any coast guard boat that might happen to be cruising within ten miles of the spot and bring down all manner of serious trouble on their heads, certainly breaking up the fine combination that had been effected for that especial delivery? "holy smoke! they sure must a'gone looney!" perk was telling himself, lost in wonder and dismay, for he began to suspect that this would be apt to mix their own plans and upset all jack's calculations. it would seem to be the only explanation possible--that some of the case goods had been tampered with, the result being that the willing workers were not only hilarious, but ready to start a rough-house then and there on the deck of the schooner. then suddenly remembering how both he and jack had their head-phone harness attached, and could thus exchange words when they pleased, perk broke loose in his usual impulsive fashion, seeking the light which he somehow had reason to believe his chum could give him. "gee whiz! partner, what's broke loose, would you say?" he demanded. "them guys act like they'd been tryin' out the high power stuff they fetched all the way from the bahamas. danged if it don't sound to me like a reg'lar old irish tipperary fair fight--listen to 'em shootin' things up to beat the band! say, if they keep agoin' like that, they'll smash every case they got an' we won't find any evidence to grab. got a line on the racket, old boss?" "it's a fight, and a lively one at that," admitted the pilot, "but i reckon you're away off when you figure it's a ruction between those on the schooner and the boys of that speedboat." "you got me guessin' partner," said the puzzled perk; "then who's mixed up in the shindy, i want to know?" "sounds a whole lot like hijackers to me, perk." "ginger pop! is _that_ what it means then, jack--some tough guys been out there on the gulf keepin' a close watch on the schooner that came up the coast loaded to the gun'ls with case goods, an' crept in with small boats to make a big haul! listen to 'em squabble, will you, boy? what wouldn't i give for daylight so's to see that boss shindy--shootin' keeps a'goin' on like the old days over there--wow! they must be a bunch o' rotten marksmen, or the whole lot'd be wiped out afore this time. what're we a'goin' to do 'bout it, jack--we ought to have some say what's to be done with all that stuff--no use bein' eagles o' the skies if we gotter stick around an' let a measly set o' hawks get away with the game." "don't worry, that's what we're _not_ aiming to do!" snapped jack, as he banked, and once again headed in the direction of the spot where all that wild commotion was taking place. "i get you, boy--the machine-gun, is it?" barked perk, starting up from his seat as though to make ready. before he could throw off his head-harness jack stopped him. "wait--you got me wrong--let the gun lie where it is. you know we never expect to use it unless our lives are in danger. get the bombs, perk--the simple tear bombs--they ought to fill the bill!" perk evidently not only understood now but was fully in sympathy with the scheme jack had hatched out under the spur of necessity--quick thinking was one of young ralston's strong points and his cleverness along those lines had served him wonderfully on more than a few previous occasions, where the situation looked desperate. they were sliding down a steep glide with the engine shut off. the deck of the nearby schooner was plainly visible due to the lights aboard, and the successive discharges of firearms, each looked like a miniature flash of lightning. as they approached the scene of confusion the racket grew in volume,--a dozen men seemed to be whooping things up as though under the impression that the battle could be won by sheer noise--and broken heads. perk kept his wits, and managed to locate the small stock of tear bombs that had been given into their charge, with the idea they might find them more or less useful should they strike a superior force of reckless law breakers and get into what perk would call a "jam." already he had succeeded in clutching a couple of the round missiles that were charged with the acrid gas that could play such havoc with human eyes as to render the strongest men as weak as babes and settled down in a position where he could throw them to advantage. chapter vi the tear-bomb attack it was certainly a thrilling moment for perk as he crouched there in his awkward cubicle back of the pilot and waited for the proper second to arrive when his accuracy at throwing the bombs would be tested. jack meanwhile had his hands full attending to his part of the business--it was of course of prime importance that they should drop down as close to the deck of the schooner as possible so the full effect of the bursting tear-bombs might be felt by those struggling smugglers and hijackers, but there was the mast of the cruising vessel to bear in mind since it towers many feet in the air. to strike this spar would entail danger of a crash, or having their landing-gear torn away, which would prove a disaster. consequently jack held himself in readiness to once more start his engine when sufficiently near the object of his attack. perk knew just when their downward velocity terminated, for not only were they again on a level keel, but the motor commenced working with its customary intensity and the whole fusilage quivered as usual when they were under way. all this had consumed mere fragments of a minute and perk had already drawn back his hand to make ready for his first toss. it was his intention to follow this up with a second bomb, hurled in double-quick order, for a dual fire would make the results more complete. jack left it completely to his comrade to decide just when to let fly, relying on the lessons perk had taken along those lines in order to make himself as near perfect as possible. if it so chanced that their initial attack turned out to be futile, it was always possible for the fighting airship to swing around so as to permit a second attempt. much would depend on just how those who were struggling like mad wolves on the deck of the schooner to gain or retain possession of the spoils took the attack from the air. jack rather fancied they would be panic stricken at having a grim spectre of the skies descend on them like a plunging eagle and before they could possibly recover sufficient energy to strike back, the monster roc must have winged past, and the pungent gas started to affect their eyes, rendering them frantic with a threatened temporary blindness. then perk began his share of the vicious attack. he followed out his prearranged programme with machine-like movements, sending his first bomb with such cleverness that it struck close to the stern, for jack had made his hawk-like swoop so as to pass completely along the entire length of the deck--this in order to give his working pal a better chance to fulfill his assignment. even before that missile struck, perk had instantly changed the other bomb to his eager right hand and in a rapid-fire way sent it, too, hurtling downward, to crash further on close to the bow. then they were speeding into space beyond the bowsprit of the anchored rum-runner, with jack starting to climb in order to bank and swing around, so as to complete the job if his first endeavor lacked in any detail. lucky indeed for the two aviators that they had their goggles on, else they too might have suffered from the fumes that so quickly spread in every direction as though fanned by the night breeze. perk afterwards admitted that he had caught a whiff of the penetrating gas despite the covering helmet and close-fitting goggles but thanks to the haste with which jack carried their ship past, the gas had little or no effect. the clamor still continued, if anything, redoubled, for now the element of fear had gripped the hearts of every man on board both boats as they felt that terrible, unseen agency stabbing at their eyes and making the stoutest writhe with agony and alarm, thinking they must be doomed. jack could easily comprehend why they should be demoralized under the prevailing conditions--there had been enough excitement in the air to start with when the hijacker crowd boarded the rum-runner and joined issues with the crews of the two allied boats but when from out of the skies there descended a swooping monster, apparently about to fall upon them as might a stray meteor from unlimited space in the firmament, and that strange, racking pain gripped their eyes, nothing but panic could describe their condition with any degree of accuracy. but one element was now lacking in the dreadful turmoil--perk could no longer detect the quick percussion of blows, as fists and clubbed firearms clashed against human bodies backed by a fierce anger that had been fanned into a blaze by injuries received and a sense of impending victory, with the spoils in sight. apparently every man among them was thinking of nothing save his own individual sufferings and terror--unable to see with any degree of certainty, they must be staggering this way and that, colliding with each other and then one by one either falling into the water or else jumping aboard the speedboat so conveniently nearby. jack had by this time brought the ship around again so as to head into the wind as before. perk, divining that this meant a second slash at the mob on the sloop's deck reached out for another relay of missiles. now that he had got started he was in prime condition to "keep the ball rolling" until there did not remain a single hijacker or smuggler aboard the rum-runner. but jack, more inclined to pity than the former war ace, did not make that second dip--he had a good idea the punishment thus dealt out with their initial swoop would be severe enough to clear the deck and set the late rival forces to quitting the vicinity of the ill smelling sloop with the utmost speed, regardless of the means employed to accomplish such a retreat while the going held good. perk could hear splash after splash, as though the frenzied sufferers in their agony had been seized with the possibility of cooling water being a sovereign remedy for the ills that had so suddenly gripped their aching eyeballs. perk was chuckling to himself, even as he continued to crouch there, and held a third tear bomb ready for instant use when jack was pleased to give him a fitting opportunity to throw it. "zowie!" he was telling himself, "if that don't make me think o' the times when us boys lined up on a dock and made the dive, one right after another--plunk--plunk--plunk! go to it, you terriers--swim for the shore, boys, and good luck to you all. our job'll be to pick up the rum-boat with her juicy cargo, an' hand her over to some government official jack knows about around these diggings. high--low--jack an' the smugglin' game--that spells the hull thing i kinder guess!" perk was by no means so lacking in sagacity not to understand just why his comrade was hanging fire and keeping at a respectful distance from the sloop. he wished sufficient time to elapse so that most of the penetrating gas from the tear bombs would be carried off on the night wind and it might be reckoned safe for them to go aboard. he could vision the terrified hijackers after their speedy plunge overboard managing to find their several boats and dragging themselves over the gunwales with but one thought in their bewildered minds, and that to put as much distance between themselves and the rum-runner as possible. he even told himself he could catch the sound of splashing and oars working madly in the locks, although this may have been only imagination on perk's part, but for one thing, he did glimpse a moving light and could detect a chugging movement such as would accompany the inglorious flight of the speedboat, racing for some shore harbor. silence followed, as though all the human elements in that late wild tumult had managed to leave the scene of their defeat. still jack continued to swing around in a short circle, showing how even with the spoils of victory close within their reach he could keep to his standard maxim of "watch your step!" minutes passed, and it went without question that the penetrating gas must be well swept away by the night wind so that it would be safe for them to board their prize and take a quick inventory of the illicit cargo. perk knew the time for action had arrived when he felt the plane head toward the surface of the gulf, as though it was jack's intention to drop just back of the sloop's stern when they could taxi alongside and readily climb to the low deck. there was nothing surprising about their coming in contact with the surface of the water--jack had acquired a habit of making perfect landings whether ashore or with pontoons. knowing this, perk never looked for anything else. they came down with hardly any more of a splash than a pelican might have made and almost instantly jack started taxiing ahead in the direction of the nearby anchored sloop. perk had set the third tear-bomb down with the belief that there would be no necessity for his using it. silence hung about the sloop, and he had decided there could be no one around, unless, when they clambered over the side, they should discover some poor chap who had succumbed to the provoking gas or else been stunned by a blow in the wild melee that had raged previously. just the same wise old perk did not mean to be caught off his guard and so he dragged out a formidable looking automatic, supplied by the secret service to all its accredited agents as a means for compelling a surrender on the part of any "wanted man" when overtaken in his flight. the head-phones had been disconnected so there was nothing to hinder a prompt boarding of the captured boat when jack gave the word. with the glorious flush of victory thrilling his whole frame perk stood by to fend off as they drew close to the squatty stern. it would be his duty to clamber out on one wing and get aboard, carrying a rope by means of which the floating airship could be secured to the water craft. this he managed to accomplish without much difficulty, wondering while so doing whether he and jack might not be making history, for he suspected that never before in the annals of aviation had an amphibian plane been afforded a chance to take a prize of war in such an original fashion as bombarding the enemy crew with tear-gas bombs and causing them to flee in mad haste. it was an exultant perk who stood erect on the deck and waved his flying helmet with the proud air of a neophyte hunter planting his foot on the body of his first slain lion or tiger. chapter vii a white elephant on their hands "come on in, jack old hoss, the water's fine!" was the way perk greeted his chum after gaining the deck of the captured rum-runner. "first make that rope fast somehow so we'll run no risk of losing our floating crate," jack advised him. "yeah, that's just what i'm goin' to do, buddy," continued the other, as he proceeded to make fast to the sloop's wheel after which jack managed to clamber aboard. there were lanterns scattered around, and in the haste with which the afflicted crew had abandoned their ship no one had bothered about extinguishing them. by means of the meagre illumination afforded by them, the two airmen were able to take a fairly comprehensive survey of their surroundings. "huh! i kinder guessed we'd find a bunch o' the scrappin' critters stretched out, an' lookin' all bloody like," ventured perk, with possibly a shadow of regret in his voice and manner, "but shucks! never a one do i set my lamps on. here's a case or two o' wet goods been busted open, seems like, in all that kickup an' mebbe now some o' the wild boys got a taste that helped keep 'em in the roarin', tearin' fight they had but looks as if every man must a' been mighty keen on jumpin' his bail. wow! i can't blame 'em any, if the way my eyes feel is a fair sample o' what they got served out to 'em!" "you said it, partner," echoed jack, "but keep from rubbing it in, if you know what's good for you. the gas is being carried away right along by the breeze, so let's forget it and take a look around." "let's," echoed perk, always more or less curious and eager to "peek" when the chance offered. it seemed as though they were alone on the anchored sloop that was rising and falling on the long rollers coming in off the wide gulf. piles of cases lay on the deck around them, ready to be transferred to such smaller craft as were expected to draw alongside with orders for them from some mysterious central clearing house. possibly there were many more similar packages down below, for the sloop was evidently heavily laden. now and then the voluble member of the firm would let out a crisp exclamation as though those keen eyes of his had run across some visible sign of the recent rough-house disagreement that tickled him more or less. "we sure broke in on a sweet little party all right, jack," he observed, at one time with a chuckle, "see, here's a broken bottle that i guess must a' been smashed on some poor guy's bean and from the blood spots hereabout he had a plenty, but still he managed to skip out when the grand march started. an' looky what i found--a coat that's tore into shreds. gee whiz! but that was some hot tamale scrap, believe me. i'd give somethin' for a chance to look in on the round." jack was apparently puzzling his own head over something that did not hit him as so very humorous. "yes," he told perk, with a grimace, "we've made a bully capture all right, partner, but when you come to think twice it may be we've got a white elephant on our hands after all." "huh! what d'ye mean by sayin' that, old pal?" questioned the other, who apparently saw nothing in the affair calculated to create any tendency toward dismay in his mind. "you got me in a tail spin, partner--lift the lid, won't you, an' gimme a look in?" "well, we've got the rum-boat okay, haven't we?" demanded jack. "looks thataways, i guess," perk admitted. "just so, and what d'ye reckon we're going to do with it?" continued the head pilot, hitting straight from the shoulder as usual. "why--er--ginger pop! that's so, old hoss, _what?_ mebbe now the shoe's on the other foot, an' it's the blamed sloop that's got us held up. would it be proper to set the bally boat afire and see all this hot stuff go up in flames? or we might knock a hole in the bottom, an' sink her right where she stands, though that might get us in dutch with our people, since the rum-runners could come around an' salvage this case stuff again. only way to settle the puzzle'd be for us to have a bargain day sale, opening case after case, knockin' the neck off each and every bottle and makin' all the fish in this corner o' the gulf dizzy with a mixture o' rum an' seawater." jack laughed at hearing all this wild stuff come from the bewildered perk. "strikes me i'm not going to get much satisfaction from you, partner," he bluntly told the other. "our folks expect to see some evidence to prove the big yarn we're bound to tell--about our dropping those tear bombs and scattering the fighting hijackers and rum-runners and all that stuff which means that by hook or by crook we've just _got_ to get clear with this sloop and all the contraband that's aboard--hand it over to some of uncle sam's agents along the gulf coast, whose addresses i was given before leaving washington, to be used in just such circumstances as these. so try again, and see if you can suggest some way it can be put through." thereupon perk started scratching his tousled head in a fashion he always followed when given a problem to solve, since his wits were apt to be a bit rusty and in need of oiling so as to cause them to function properly. "wouldn't that jar you?" he finally exploded, "we jest can't load our crate with the bally stuff, 'cause it couldn't lift a tenth o' the cargo we grabbed so easy-like. an' as to towin' the sloop after us by a hawser, it'd be too much like a caterpiller creepin' along. i own up it's got me buffaloed. jack, an' if anything's goin' to be done it's bound to come out o' your own coco." "no hurry at all, brother," the other told him, little chance of those lads making back this way in a hurry, since they got the scare of their lives tonight. "let's look around some more and possibly a suggestion will pop up to give us the glad hand and see us out of the mire." "suits me okay old hoss," agreed perk, nodding his head confidently as though he had known all along that such a clever partner as jack would have a spare card up his sleeve to play when things began to look unusually gloomy. perk picked up one of the lanterns, for he knew they would need some sort of illumination if they intended to explore the regions below deck which he termed the "hold," not being much of a sea-going man, although capable of filling quite a number of different callings from engineer to air pilot. he had not taken half a dozen steps after descending the short flight of steps leading below when he came to a sudden halt. "glory be! what was that?--sounded real like a groan, jack!" he exclaimed, trying to peer into the gloom of the hold, where there seemed to be row after row of the same type of wooden cases with foreign inscriptions burned on them. "just what it was, perk," agreed his chum, pressing close behind the holder of the lantern, "lift the light a bit, i think i can make out something stretched out flat--yes, it must be a man, i'm certain." "kinder guessed we'd run across one or two o' the scrappers knocked out an' left behind in the getaway rush," commented perk who had drawn his automatic before starting to explore the lower regions of the rum-runner, not knowing what they were apt to meet there. he continued to advance, and presently they were bending over a dismal looking object, undoubtedly a man who might be a member of the crew, judging from his rough sea clothes and his bare feet. there could be no question but that he had been in the fight, since his face was bloody and his general appearance betokened rough treatment. undoubtedly he had been senseless at the time the tear-gas penetrated every part of the small vessel, and was only now coming to. jack lost no time in examining the pitiful looking object while perk waited to hear what his verdict would be. after all the old fighter bore no malice toward any of these reckless men who were so assiduously engaged in breaking the law of the land by running contraband goods into uncle sam's domains and he was just as willing to bind up the wounds of this luckless adventurer as if the other had only been an ordinary sailor in sore trouble. "nothing serious, it seems," was jack's decision. "he has had a pretty hard knock that started the blood from his nose and as like as not laid him out here senseless for there's a fine big lump on his head." "so we'll have _one_ prisoner to fetch in after all," chortled perk, as if pleased by the prospect of being able to produce a witness to testify to the work they had just accomplished. chapter viii the spoils of victory "take hold, perk," continued jack, without losing any time. "we've got to get this poor chap out in the open air for it's pretty bad down below here, and bothers my eyes more or less." so between them they managed to carry the wounded rum-runner to the deck, where he was laid down, still groaning, although showing no other signs of life. "step lively, brother, and see if you can run across any fresh water, so's to pour a little down his throat," jack went on to say. "i can dip up some salty stuff by reaching down over the gun'l and mop his forehead so's to fetch him around." "okay, boss!" snapped the ever ready perk, "kinder guess i spied a barrel with a faucet--hope now she don't hold spirits instead o' water. watch my smoke, that's all." he was indeed back in what he would term a "jiffy," bearing a battered and rusty tin kettle in his hand which proved to contain something that might, with reservations, be called "drinking" water though it proved to be lukewarm and possibly full of "wigglers," as the larvae of mosquitoes are called. jack raised the man's head, which he had succeeded in washing to some extent, and forcing open his mouth allowed some of the contents of the pannikin to drain down his throat. this set him to coughing and so he came to, showing all the signs of bewilderment that might be expected after going to sleep in the midst of a most clamorous battle with the reckless hijackers, and now waking up to find strange faces bending over him, heads that were encased in close-fitting helmets and the staring goggles of airmen. "you're all right, brother," jack assured the man, on seeing how alarmed he appeared to be. "your crew skipped out and deserted you, but we'll stand by. consider yourself a prisoner of uncle sam, although you'll not be punished any to speak of if only you open up and tell all you know about the owners and the skipper of this smuggler craft. what's her name and where are you from?" the man had by this time recovered sufficiently to understand what was required of him. jack's manner was reassuring, and he came out of his half panic so as to make quite a civil reply to the questions asked. so they learned that the sloop had been known as the _cicade_, which jack knew to mean a locust and that her home port was in the bahamas, hot-bed of the smuggler league, bimini, in fact, being its chief port of departure. "what're we goin' to do with this chap?" perk was asking. "we don't want him to give us the slip, since he's the on'y prisoner we got, do we, partner?" "i reckon not, brother, and to make certain that doesn't happen we'll have to tie him up or fasten him to the mast here while we finish looking around. i hope to run across the ship's papers, if they've got any such things aboard." "leave that to me, jack, i'm some punkins when it comes to splicin' up a prisoner o' war, so he can't break away." perk proved himself a man of his word by securing a piece of rope, wrapping it several times around the ankles of the seaman, and finishing with a succession of hard knots such as would require the services of a sharp knife blade when it came time to liberate the captive. the man was a pretty tough looking customer, thanks to the treatment he had met with in the merry time the rival parties had had aboard the sloop, but at least he knew when he was well off and something in jack's manner as well as his voice told him these strangers would go easy him if only he gave them as little trouble as possible. so once again the pair set out to finish their exploration of the object of their latest "strafing" feat when a battle had been brought to an abrupt close with all hands in full flight simply by a dextrous movement of perk's arm and the tossing of a couple of innocent looking tear-bombs into the midst of the warring factions. this time it was jack who made the discovery. perk saw him step over, while they were still on deck, and lift a ragged tarpaulin that seemed to cover some bulky object toward the stern of the sloop. after that one look jack gave the well-worn covering a hitch and a toss that sent it flying revealing something that caused perk's eyes to stick out with astonishment, not mentioning a sudden spasm of delight. "wow! what's this i'm seein' partner?" he yelped joyously. "a reg'lar engine or i'm a crocodile from the nile! why, this must be what they call an auxiliary craft, fitted to use canvas or hoss power, whichever fills the bill best. you c'n ditch me if this ain't what i'll call luck. an' heaps of it." "i had a sneaking suspicion we'd run across something like this," confessed jack, who nevertheless seemed just as well pleased as his comrade over the find. "it's taking too big a chance to ship a cargo as rich as this one in a tub like this with only rotten sails to speed the craft if she happened to run afoul of a revenue cutter or one of those new sub-chasers the coast guard's been fitted out with. and now the problem's been solved, just as we hoped it would be." "meanin' we c'n get somewhere without tryin' to tow the rum-boat behind our crate, and making a long and tiresome job o' it, eh what, partner?" perk suggested, with considerable animation. "take a look at this engine, perk, and tell me if you reckon you could run the thing if it became necessary." accordingly the other investigated and it was not long before he ventured to give his decision. "seems okay to me, boss. course i can't jest say for sure till i tries it out, but the chances are three to one she'll work for me." "we'll soon have a chance to put that to the test, for it's our only way to hang on to our spoils and have something to turn in for the night's work." "i'm laughin' to see how things keep happenin' jest to suit our crowd, old hoss," perk went on to remark, still chuckling at a great rate. "do we tow the ship behind the sloop, partner?" "not that you could notice," he was informed. "i aim to have you stick to the rummy, while i get up a thousand feet or so and kind of play the part of an aerial scout, just like you've told me you used to do when you were running one of those war sausages, known as blimps in these up-to-date times. no objections, have you, perk?" "what, me? i should guess not," the other exploded. "why, it'll be jest a rummy time with this kid, runnin' off with the old sloop and a prisoner on board to boot. i'm tickled pink to know we're right in action at last, after waitin' so long, an' ding-dongin' around till we both got stale. but how 'bout draggin' that ere mudhook up off the ground--think we c'n tackle the job between us, jack?" "oh! that can be put through without much trouble, i reckon," perk was assured by the confident one. "i think if you investigate you'll find they've got some sort of winch, a bit like the old-fashioned windlass we used to wind up whenever we pulled the old oaken bucket up from the country well. let's take a peek and make sure." it took them but a minute to have jack's guess verified, for there was a winch, with the rope of the anchor attached; all that would be necessary was to start winding and by main strength the anchor must be hauled out of the mud and lifted to the vessel's bow, there to hang until needed again. "no use of our stickin' 'round these diggin's any longer, partner," perk suggested. "the canvas is all clewed up or reefed, whatever they call it, so we won't have it flappin' around after the ship gets under way. say the word, boss, an' leave the rest to me." "but nothing has been said as to what port we're meaning to strike out for," observed jack, "and that's a matter of considerable importance. first of all it would be apt to queer our business some if we sailed openly into tampa, st. petersburg, or even key west; for some of those smart newspaper reporters would be bound to get on to the facts and like as not we'd have our pictures printed in all the papers. a fat chance we'd stand to do any more work ripping this contraband conspiracy up the back, after _they_ got through telling things." "well, i guess now that would queer our game, wouldn't it, partner?" bleated the annoyed perk, then brightening up as he eyed his chum in a suggestive fashion as though anticipating further interesting remarks along that particular line, he went on to add: "s'pose i'm let into the plan i know you've got all fixed up for us to foller." "all things considered," began jack, thus urged, "i reckon it would be the best scheme if we managed to get the rum-runner anchored back in that big bunch of mangrove islands on the outer edge of which we lay low with our crate so nicely camouflaged. for that matter we could cover the deck the same way, since it'll be from the air most likely the danger is bound to come--through oscar gleeb, the german ex-war pilot." "sounds good to me, buddy!" snapped perk, grinning. "i'll swing around overhead, and have my eye peeled for any sign of trouble," continued jack, "and also keep tabs on you while on the trip south. of course we don't know just what speed you can coax out of that rusty old engine, but even at a minimum of six or eight miles per hour, we surely ought to get in hiding before sun-up." "easy enough, boss, and mebbe long before," perk agreed. "didn't you get the far away grumble of a marine engine working just when we climbed aboard this junk--i didn't say anything at the time, but i guessed as how it might be that second tub turnin' tail an' puttin' for the shore." "i made up my mind that was what it stood for," jack told his companion. "they listened to all that terrible racket and just made up their minds it was too hot out this way for them to make the riffle. oh, well! two may be company, but three's considered a crowd and we might have found we'd bitten off more than we could chew, so what does it matter?" "we've gathered in the booze," perk was saying proudly, "or most of it anyway, together with the rum-runner, and one o' the crew to turn state's evidence, so what else could we wish for--i for one don't feel greedy. plenty more where this one came from, and the smuggling season is long. what we got to pay most attention to is liftin' the lid, so's to find out just who the big guns are, backing this racket an' chances are we're on the right road to doin' that this very minute." "that's correct, perk, but let's get a move on and be going." chapter ix engineer perk on deck everything else being in readiness jack and his muscular comrade started to work the deck winch in order to get the anchor "apeak," as perk called it, being desirous of showing off with his limited knowledge of things nautical. "she's amovin' okay, old hoss!" gasped perk who had been doing considerable straining, anxious to display his ability as a mudhook lifter. "a few more good pulls an' we'll have the old gink where we want it." the task being completed, the sloop began to move backward, very much like those fiddler crabs perk had watched retreating before his attack on one of the sandy florida beaches. "looks like i'd better go aboard our ship and get away from here before anything happens to disable a wing," jack hastened to remark, sensing possible trouble which would be in the nature of a serious calamity just then. "go to it then, matey," perk told him, light-heartedly enough, "i'm ready to do my stuff as a half-cooked engineer. don't worry a bit about my gettin' there with both feet if the bally motor only holds together. don't like its looks any too much, but then lady luck seems to be givin' us a heap o' favors, so we're goin' to finish after the garrison style--heavy on the home stretch." before perk reached the last word his chum had gained his seat in the cubbyhole of the amphibian, and almost immediately called out: "cut that rope and let me get away, partner--hurry up before i get another and harder bump!" ten seconds afterward the airship was entirely free from contact with the drifting sloop. then came the roar of the motor showing that jack had given her the gun. instantly there was a forward movement of the amphibian, which increased rapidly until it was rushing along with great speed presently lifting its nose toward the heavens and leaving the rolling surface of the gulf, soared aloft in repeated circles. perk, after seeing that his pal was well on his way, turned his attention to his own job. he had no particular trouble in coaxing the engine to start, although it did considerable "grunting" as though its joints might be rusty and in need of lubricating oil, thus telling that the late skipper had allowed his engineer to neglect his duties in a climate where the salt in the air always rusted the inside of gun barrels, machinery of all descriptions, and in many ways played havoc with exposed metal parts. however, after the engine got well warmed up it began to work more smoothly so that perk lost some of his first anxiety. "goin' to get along okay i guess," he assured himself and then, keeping the prow of his vessel headed due south, he found time to try and discover where jack and his soaring crate might be. the engine was a gas motor and well supplied with an abundance of fuel, since the winds on their recent voyage around the florida keys must have been favorable as a whole and with the motive power idle there had been no drain on the gas. perk was feeling prime at that particular moment in his checkered career. it afforded him much pride to thus be in sole charge of a captured rum-runner with a cargo of contraband aboard. then, too, all doubts concerning his ability to serve as an engineer were already dissipated for the sloop was making fair time and carried a bone in her teeth, as the white lines of foam running out on either side attested. perk was softly singing to himself some marine ditty he had picked up in the course of his adventurous life afloat and ashore and which had for a title "rolling down to old mohea"--it thrilled him to the core to feel that he was luckily able to afford jack just the assistance the other required so as to perfect his plan of campaign. now he believed he could glimpse the amphibian overhead--yes, the moon, poking her nose out from behind a bank of clouds, allowed him to make certain--jack had swung back and was circling, so as to keep the sloop within range of his vision. "just like a guardeen angel," mused the enraptured perk, standing at his post and sending frequent curious as well as proud glances aloft, "as he told me he meant to be. say, ain't this simply great stuff we've struck?--never felt so joyous in all my life as when i smashed them two tear-bombs down on the deck here an' busted up that fightin' mob. zowie! how quick they got a move on, every single man but the one lone dickey we found knocked out down below-stairs. ev'rything movin' along like silk--who cares whether school keeps or not, with us boys on the top wave o' success." then he concluded to stop premature boasting, knowing very well that as in a game of baseball nothing is settled until the last man has been put out. so the voyage down the coast continued steadily enough, the minutes running along into hours, with faithful perk keeping steadfastly at his new job. from time to time he would find the plane hovering directly over his head, and was able to catch certain signals which he could understand because of a previous arrangement he and jack had. although the moving sloop was not over a mile or so from the shore line, it was next to impossible for perk to catch a fleeting glimpse of land, so as to get his bearings. "huh!" he told himself at one time after he had received instructions to draw a bit further toward the open gulf, as he was approaching some point of land jutting into the water, and thus making a shoal possibly covered with coon-oysters, on which he was apt to pull up hurriedly with disastrous results, "this here is like flyin' blind at a five thousand-foot ceilin',--jack, he c'n see the land by usin' the night glasses, so it's a good thing i c'n get tips from him right along. gee! this sure is gettin' some monotonous, keepin' this old motor hummin' when it's on the blink so bad. must be a wheen past midnight, i'd say, an' we ought to be clost to them ten thousand islands by now." he had been keeping close watch on the stars and although making no claims to being a first-class woodsman, perk could tell the time of night by the heavenly bodies setting one after another, which would account for his late confident assertion that morning could not be so very far distant. once only during all this time did perk happen to see a far distant light out at sea. it interested him more or less and naturally caused him to speculate as to whether it might have any connection with the great game in which he and jack were now engaged. everything he had ever heard or read connected with the mexican gulf seemed to pass in review through his active mind--there was a halo of romance hovering about that historical sheet of salt water and while perk was not much given to flights of fancy, he found himself picturing some of the thrilling scenes he had recently read about, after learning that the next locality in which he and jack would play their adventurous part was along the florida gulf coast. then he suddenly found himself listening intently, for above the pounding of the old motor, with an occasional "miss" to break the monotony, he fancied he had caught the signal jack was to give him when the time arrived for making a turn toward the coast. "bully boy, jack!" perk cried out when he found that he had not been deceived. "i'll be right pleased to drop this tiresome job an' think myself some lucky to miss havin' the tub run on a reef, or the bally motor kickin' off an' quittin' cold. yes, an' there's what looks like a bunch o' cabbage palms stickin' their tops against the sky-line. better slow up, perk, old scout, afore you hit some stump or get aground off shore." so he throttled the motor a bit and fairly crept along. he even found himself wishing he had fixed things so that the prisoner might stand by with a sounding pole in the bow of the sloop to sing out the depth and give warning of sudden shallows but it was too late now to attempt such a thing, even if he had dared take the chance of the fellow jumping overboard and either drowning or getting ashore to give warning as to the menace hovering above the operations of the far-flung smuggler combine. but fortune was still kind and presently perk found himself softly gliding past the outermost mangrove islands. here, he remembered, it was his duty to come about and lay to until jack could drop down and taxi over to where the sloop lay so as to consider their further plans in the coming dawn. chapter x tampa bound "congrats, perk," said jack, as soon as he came close enough, "you did the thing up in first-class shape. if all other jobs went back on you i reckon you could get your papers along the engineering line. a bit tired in the bargain i take it, partner?" "lay off on that stuff, matey," replied the other, scornfully, "me, i never get what you'd call tired, but jest the same i'm right glad it's all over an' the rotten crate didn't get sunk out there--hate to lose all this bottled juice we come by in such a queer way. climb aboard, jack, an' let's have a little talk-fest while we rest up." "later on i'd be glad to do that," he was told. "we'd be wise to push further in among these islands before morning comes along if any sponger or fisherman happened to glimpse this pair of odd sea and air craft he'd spread the story far and wide and get us in dutch. i'll fasten a tow line on to the ship here, if you'll toss me a coil and taxi away back where there wouldn't be one chance in a thousand of our being seen." "i get you, buddy," perk hastened to say, as he made ready to toss the bight of stout rope to his waiting chum, "and it's all to the good with me. dandy luck we've been havin' for a fact, on'y hope it keeps on that way to the finish line. here you are, boss!" after jack had made the small hawser fast he started the taxi stunt and presently they were moving past the outlying clumps of mangroves with never a bit of trouble. perk made himself comfortable by throwing his really fatigued form flat on the deck and stretching his muscles to the limit. this continued for some little time until finally jack shut off his power and came alongside, ready to climb aboard the sloop. "we'll tie her up to this nearby clump of mangroves, where you'll notice there's a bunch of tall palmetto trees growing, showing there must be ground, such as few of these islands can boast. i'm picking this place especially because those cabbage palms will keep the mast of the sloop from sticking up and betraying its location to any flyer passing over." "i'd call that a mighty fine idea, partner," declared perk enthusiastically. "never would athought o' anything like that myself--my old bean don't work along them lines i guess. an' when i've done that camouflage act again nobody ain't agoin' to spy out a single thing down this-aways. great work, if i do say it myself, jack old boy." after he had managed to fasten the bow of the sloop to one of the palmetto trees, jack crawled aboard. he must have also felt more or less tired, after being caged in the small confines of the cockpit so long, for he followed perk's example and dropped down on the deck to stretch out while they exchanged opinions. "none too soon for our safety," was the first remark jack made, "see, there in the east the sky has begun to take on a faint rosy tint which means the sun must be making ready to rise." "things are workin' just lovely for us, i'd mention, old hoss," suggested perk, with one of his good-humored chuckles that told how well pleased he must be on account of the many "breaks" that persisted in coming their way. "let the mornin' come along when it pleases, it don't matter a red cent to us back here in this gloomy solitude." they started to exchange opinions concerning the remarkable happenings of the night just passed and in this way many things that had not been very clear to perk were made plain. on his part he was able to offer several suggestions that added to the stock of knowledge jack already possessed so that it was a mutual affair after all. "i rather reckon somebody's going to get a surprise packet when i finish explaining just how this contraband sloop and cargo fell into our hands," jack was saying at one time, apparently vastly amused himself. "fact is, i wouldn't blame the commissioner for believing i was drawing the long bow when he hears about those tear-bombs you tossed out that scattered the crowd like i've heard you tell a shell used to do when it dropped into a dugout over in the argonne." as they lay there taking things easy, the heavens in the east assumed a most wonderful range of various delicate tints that made even perk gasp with admiration. birds started singing, mocking birds and cardinals among others, crows could be heard cawing close by as though there might be a hidden bird roost not far distant. this was corroborated later on when streams of white egrets flew past, scattering to find their morning meal. so, too, circling buzzards could be seen far above as they searched for signs of a feast in the shape of a dead fish cast ashore on some sandbar or mudbank--a heavy plunge not far away told of a monster alligator that had been lying asleep on some log, taking a dive as he noticed the presence of two-legged human enemies whom he had reason to suspect of designs on his life. "how about a little grub for a change, partner?" demanded perk, after they had been talking for quite some time. "i reckon it wouldn't come amiss," admitted jack; "but if you've got any idea of starting a fire and making coffee, better throw that overboard right away, for in the first place you'd find it a hard job to run across any solid ground among all these mangrove islands and then besides it might not be the wisest thing going to send up a column of smoke to attract attention to this quarter. get that do you, perk?" "y--es," admitted the other, with a disconsolate shrug of his shoulders as if he had no liking for the scheme being thus tabooed, "s'pose it's jest like you put it, jack, though i own up i was hopin' we might make a pot o' coffee. just the same we got plenty o' fresh water along, even if it is sorter warm an' coffee'd taste just prime, but i c'n stand anything when necessity drives. so let's get our teeth in some eats without botherin' further, 'cause i'm half starved an' them sandwiches'd go fine." accordingly they started operations, perk clambering aboard the amphibian to fish out the package of "eats", he knowing best where it had been secreted on the previous evening after they had supper near this same spot. as they munched their dry food they continued to talk, finding plenty of subjects bearing on their work that would be the better for further study. "there's only one way we can arrange things so as to keep our clutch on the spoils we've rustled so far and do our duty according to orders." "i kinder guess i c'n smell a rat already, jack," chuckled perk as he wrapped up the remnant of the food supply which he had taken from their main stock--"i'm the goat in the deal--you figger on me stayin' here in this 'gator hole to stand by the ship an' knock the block off'n anybody what tries to get away with our property--how's that for a straight hit square in the bullseye?" "go up head, perkiser--you got the answer first clip, for that's just what has to be put through. i'll start off presently and make a bee line for tampa where they told me our immediate boss, colonel tranter, is stopping with his sick wife. i'll make my report direct to him and take further orders. he'll like enough detail a couple of revenue men on duty along the east coast to come back with me to where you're lying here so they can take the sloop and her wet cargo to tampa to be given over to the proper officers who will see that no clever smuggler has half a chance to run away with her." "i c'n easy enough see how you've thunk ev'ry thing out, an' on'y need a little time to put the scheme through with a rush. tell me, jack, will you be apt to get any further lines on the way things stand down here?--there was some talk, i 'member, about them bein' able to give us a few pointers concernin' them higher-ups the government is so anxious to cage so as to break this whole gang up for keeps." "certainly, i intend to ask about that very thing," came jack's ready reply, "and i'm also in great hopes they'll be able to add some news worth while, that, in conjunction with what we already know, or suspect, will put us sleuth hounds on the hot trail of the big millionaire they feel certain has been the main backing of the whole ugly bunch while keeping in the background himself all the while. they're depending on you and me, perk, to produce the evidence that's going to convict him of conspiracy against the government, which may send him to atlanta for a dozen years or more." "know how long you'll be away, jack?" demanded the other casually as if it was really a matter of but little moment to him what the answer might be, since he could be depended on to hold to their booty with the tenacity of a leech. "that all depends on circumstances--i may be back by noon, and again not till late in the afternoon or evening. i expect to fetch a couple of sandbaggers along who will take over the sloop and stuff that's aboard. having washed our hands clean of those encumbrances we'll be in fit shape to delve deeper into the game and see what we get out of the grab-bag. anyway, don't expect me until you see me heading this way and keep a sharp lookout, for from all accounts this crowd we're up against is said to be a tricky combination, always stepping on their toes and doing big things." "yeah, we've heard lots o' that kind o' stuff but just the same the lads makin' up the crew o' this sloop didn't keep their eyes open, or they'd never been taken unawares by them hijackers. leave it to gabe perkiser to hold fast to what he's got; they'd have to be a regiment, armed with machine-guns, bombs, an' even gas, to knock _me_ off'n my perch an' i don't mean that for boastin' either, jack." later on jack decided it would be just as well for him to jump off and be on his way to tampa. contrary winds or something else might delay his arrival, and an early start was bound to be of much help toward bringing a quick return. he first used the binoculars in order to scan the heavens as well as they could be covered when he was so surrounded by those strange mangrove islands and discovering no sign of any cruising, spying crate, he bade perk goodbye and taxied in the direction of the open gulf, which he knew lay due west. perk answered his signal ere the amphibian turned a bend in the tortuous channel and saw jack vanish from view; nor could he long detect any sound to indicate the presence of an airship since cautious jack had again made use of that wonderful "silencer" which they had found so useful while conducting their search during the preceding night. then the appointed guardian of the captured contraband sloop turned his attention to matters which had to do with his making the tied-up craft as thoroughly invisible from the upper air as he knew how. chapter xi perk holds the fort first of all perk set about getting the one boat that had been left aboard the smuggler sloop into the water as he would need it for conveying his green material with which he intended to cover the exposed deck. there was little trouble about accomplishing that and when he dropped into the rowboat with a pair of excellent oars in his possession, he felt considerably encouraged. so he started to poke around, hoping to run across some island that was more than a mere patch of the omnipresent mangrove tangle. this he succeeded in doing without much loss of time and his pleasure redoubled at finding a mass of dwarf saw palmetto that would yield him a plentiful supply of fronds with their queer serrated edges such as would stab cruelly unless one took care to handle them properly. here, too, were some young palmetto trees with the new leaves within easy reach. working with a vim perk speedily loaded his small boat with green stuff, after which he returned to the sloop and proceeded to scatter his material to the best advantage all over any exposed part of the contraband vessel. it necessitated a second trip before he felt satisfied for whatever his shortcomings might be in other respects, perk always tried to fulfill his whole duty whenever he tackled a job. by the time he had finished he was "reeking wet" as he called it, with "honest-to-goodness sweat," not perspiration, but it was worth all it cost to be able to feel that the sharpest vision on the part of a sky pilot passing over the spot, and even equipped with powerful binoculars, would not be able to detect the presence of the sequestered runaway sloop. "good enough," he told himself, as he lay down to rest a bit and scan the blue heavens so as to learn whether there was any sign of a cloud chaser from horizon to horizon where the clumps of mangroves allowed him a clear vision. several times he gave a little start, and proceeded to strain his eyes so as to make doubly sure, but in every instance the moving dot he had noted far away to the north or nor'east proved to be a circling buzzard, keeping up his eternal weaving to and fro in search of a belated breakfast after his own peculiar kind. so the time passed, and perk even dozed, lying there amidst his "palm sunday greens," as he fancifully called the camouflage stuff, for the climbing sun kept getting warmer, and induced somnolence, especially after such an eventful night as the one he and jack had just passed. later in the morning he sat up, took another cautious look around at the clear sky, and then proceeded to enjoy a good, old-fashioned smoke, for perk was a lover of his under-slung pipe _a la dawes_. noon found him thus, picturing his chum arriving at tampa and interviewing the government official who could give him what assistance he required so as to turn over the captured sloop and the contraband it carried, both above and below decks. at one time perk out of curiosity--as well as a desire to be in a condition to state the amount of spoils he and jack had "corraled" in their swoop upon the fighting smugglers and hijackers--took a pad of paper and a pencil and proceeded to go over the entire vessel, securing a rough invoice of the numerous piled-up cases bearing that foreign, burnt brand. then a temptation gripped him, and, as he took another "eyeful" sweep of the azure arch overhead, to again find the coast clear, he tortured himself with the vision of a pot of boiling coffee to go with his otherwise dry midday snack of lunch. "huh! no use talkin', i jest _can't_ stand it any longer--got to have my coffee if i want to keep happy as a clam at high tide. nothin' to prevent me paddlin' across once more to where i got these here greens. i noticed heaps an' heaps o' dry wood, broken branches, stems o' palmetto leaves an' such dandy trash for a quick fire. might as well tote the machine-gun along, so's to be ready for anything that comes--it could be a frisky twelve-foot 'gator wantin' to climb me or mebbe one o' them sly painters i been told they got down in this queer old country. anyway, here you go, perk, coffee pot an' all." he was soon busily engaged in building his little fire, hoping no hostile eyes might detect the trailing smoke ascending above the tops of that palmetto clump. then came the pleasing task of watching his coffee pot as it stood on the tilting firewood, a job that required constant vigilance if he hoped to save its precious contents from spilling. presently the odor began to fill him with delight and later on he found himself sitting cross-legged, like a turk, and swallowing gulp after gulp of the amber fluid he loved so well. taken altogether it proved to be as satisfactory a little lunch as perk had partaken of in some time. after finishing the entire contents of his coffee pot, he concluded it would be just as well for him to clean up, destroying all signs of the fire, and return to the sloop. he had good reason to shake hands with himself because of this exhibition of caution, for later on, as the afternoon began to lengthen, with the sun starting down toward the western horizon, he suddenly began to catch faint sounds such as sent a sudden thrill through his whole nervous system. "dang it if i ain't hearin' somethin' right like human voices," he told himself, cocking up his head the better to listen, and applying a cupped hand to his right ear. "yep, that's a fact, an' over in that quarter to boot," nodding toward the northeast where his instinct told him the mainland must lie, even if some miles distant. so, too, he decided later that the suspicious sounds kept growing louder, from which fact he judged the speakers were slowly but surely approaching his hiding place. "all right, let 'em come along," perk muttered grimly as he clutched that deadly little hand machine-gun with which he could pour a rain of missiles in a comparatively speedy passage of time. "they can't ditch me, i kinder guess, an' nobody ain't agoin' to grab this crate if i have to shoot up the hull mob o' galoots." nevertheless, since there was always a fair chance that the secreted sloop might escape discovery, perk finally concluded to dispose of his own person, at the same time meaning to keep in readiness to give the intruders a hot reception, did the occasion warrant such a course. then he could hear what he knew to be the splash of oars, and squeaking sounds of the row-locks. but he had already discounted this fact, knowing as he did the impossibility of anyone ever reaching the fringe of that vast wilderness of mangrove islands in which many a fisherman had been lost, never to find his way out of the myriad of zigzag channels without the possession of some manner of boat. on they came until finally perk realized they were just around the corner, for he could pick up every word that was uttered as well as see specks of foam from the working oars as it carried past, the tide being on the ebb just then. "told yuh it was a steamer runnin' past thet sent up yer smoke trail, zeb," a harsh jeering voice was saying, accompanying the words with a string of oaths as though he felt more or less "mad" because of the exertion necessitated in working at the oars so long and on a bootless errand at that. "wall," came another drawling voice in which keen disappointment could be detected. "i judged it shore lay in this direction, but like yuh says, it must'a ben a steamer out yonder on the gulf--mebbe thet rev'nue boat they done tole us to watch out fur er else some o' them spongers frum up tarpon springs way. anyhow, i got all i wants o' exercise so i move weuns call hit a day an' get back to the shanty." "yas, thet's the best thing we kin do," agreed the other, with a snarl in his heavy voice, "we got heaps o' work ahead tonight, if so be thet fritz airpilot does drop over with his batch o' yeller boys like weuns been told he'd do. i'd like tuh see the whole caboodle o' chinks dropped inter the middle o' the gulf, i hate 'em so, but thar's good money in the game, we happens tuh know, zeb, which i jest caint hold back on nowhow. les go!" greatly to the relief of the listening perk he heard the sound of splashing gradually recede until finally it died away completely. this gave him a feeling bordering on relief, for while perk was an old hand at the fighting game and stood ready to give a good account of his ability to defend their prize; at the same time he had no violent desire to open up on the two occupants of the unseen rowboat nor yet was the idea of the sloop being discovered at all to his taste. "lucky lads you might count yourselves if on'y you knew how i was layin' right here in ambush, ready to sink that boat an' make the biggest sort o' a splash. an' i'm guessin' i got off right smart 'bout that cookin' fire racket, come to think of it--might a'spilled the beans all right, and made all sort o' trouble for our crowd." talking in this fashion to himself, perk again set about taking things comfortably nor did he ever hear of that pair again. still, he treasured up in his mind what he had heard the man with the harsh voice say in connection with the smuggling of unwelcome chinese immigrants who were ready to pay so well for an opportunity to beat the government regulations in their eagerness to join the foreign colony in mott street, new york city, where the vast majority of them were bound. it would naturally interest jack when he heard the news, although it could hardly be considered startling, since they already knew full well this sort of thing was being carried on by daring airplane pilots in the service of the far-flung smuggling combine. by now it was well past the middle of the afternoon. light fleecy, white clouds had been drifting up from the direction of the dry tortugas and key west but this far they did not look at all portentous, as though any kind of a storm might be brewing. perk hoped that would not turn out to be the case since they had work planned for a part of the coming night, which would be greatly hampered by unsettled weather. then, on making one of his habitual observations of the upper air, he discovered a moving speck that he soon decided must be a plane heading in his direction. at first perk fancied it must be jack on his way back, but later on he realized the air craft bore a great resemblance to the curtiss-robin boat which they had figured belonged to the hun pilot, oscar gleeb. chapter xii oddenemies face to face "je-ru-salem crickets!" perk told himself as he stared, "i do b'lieve that's the same curtiss-robin crate we saw before, an' making direct for this here section o' the map in the bargain! now i wonder what he wants to barge in for when things seem to be doin' their prettiest for us fellers? guess i'd better get ready for boarders. if that smart guy took a notion to swoop down for a close-up o' these mangrove islands, he'd be apt to pick me up, 'specially if he happens to own a pair o' glasses, which stands to reason he sure does. huh! what a bother. better be slow 'bout foolin' with a buzz-saw, that's all i c'n say to him." no sooner said than done, which was perk's usual way of playing the game. he changed his position for one that offered less chance for discovery and while about it perk started to build up something in the shape of a formidable fortification. "what luck to have all these logs lyin' around when i need them," he went on to tell himself with many a dry chuckle. "guess now they had 'em aboard to pull the wool over the eyes o' any customs men that happened to board the sloop lookin' for contraband stuff--meant to claim they was fetchin' mahogany logs to a states market. gee whiz! they sure are a tough proposition to move around but here's the cutest little fort any playboy could wish for. let him come along--who cares a red cent what he does, so long's i got this here machine-gun with plenty o' cartridges in the belts to riddle things with. ring up the curtain, an' let the play start. makes me think i'm back in the old line again along the argonne, an' say, jest 'magine how it all works out with one o' them same hun pilots swooping down on me! it sure is to laugh, boys." by this time the oncoming plane was drawing perilously near and perk wisely settled himself so that he could see all that occurred. he possessed a pair of marvelously keen eyes and while it would have simplified matters considerably had he been handling those wonderful binoculars, just the same he could get on without them. by close application he was able to see a figure bending over the ledge of the cabin window, apparently scrutinizing the queer combination of mangrove patches and crooked water passages between. the plane was rushing down a steep slant in a clever dive, or glide, so that with the passage of each second the chances for the pilot to make a discovery increased. "gosh! but ain't this the life, though?" muttered the watcher, thrilled to the core with what was hovering over his head yet not so much as making the slightest movement that would attract attention. if discovery must come, perk was determined that no act of his would hasten it along and no responsibility for the tragedy--if such there followed--could be laid at his door. he had discovered some time back that the rival crate resembled their own, in that it was in the amphibian class--could hop-off either from the land or when on the water. really he had taken it for granted that such would turn out to be the case, since occasions without number must arise when, for instance, the smugglers wished to take alien chinamen from some schooner or speedboat by means of which the first part of their journey to the promised land had been carried through, when it would be necessary for the plane to drop alongside the boat from cuba or other foreign ports and make the transfer. the prospect was far from displeasing to perk--he felt positive that it would be the first time on record when one of uncle sam's secret service men fought it out with a taxiing seaplane on the subtropical waters of the great gulf. the outcome of course was hidden behind a haze of mystery--one, or both of those engaged might never live to tell the story but then that sort of uncertainty had been his daily portion during his thrilling service on the french front and its coming to the surface again after all these years of less arduous labor only made perk hug himself, theoretically speaking. now the flying ship was passing directly over his place of concealment, although at rather a high ceiling. would the argus-eyed pilot make any suspicious discovery, or, failing to do so, continue his scrutiny along the many leagues of similar mangrove islands stretching far into the south? perk saw him pass the spot, which caused him to imagine the game was all off, and he would have nothing but his trouble for his pains. indeed a sense of heavy disappointment had even begun to grip his heart when he saw the other suddenly bank and swing as though meaning to come back again. "zowie! kinder looks like he _did_ glimpse somethin' that struck him as wuth a second scrutiny," chuckled the anxious watcher, that delicious thrill once more sweeping over his whole frame. indeed, it was a moment of more or less suspense, although perk was telling himself he did not care a particle whether the smuggler pilot discovered the mast of the sloop, with its camouflaged deck below or not. he was only hoping that the other might not take a notion to fly overhead and try to drop some sort of a miserable bomb down upon the spot where things looked a bit suspicious to him. possibly perk still seemed to get a faint whiff of the tear-gas that had drenched the smugglers' boat at the time he himself hurled those two bombs with such deadly accuracy and the possibility of being himself made the target of a similar attack was anything but pleasing for him to contemplate. this time the curtiss-robin sped past not much more than three hundred feet above, so that he could plainly make out a head, with its protecting helmet, earflaps, and goggles, that was projected from the cabin. "darn his nerve, if he ain't wavin' his hand to me to say, 'i see you little boy, you're it!' spotted me, danged if he didn't, by ginger! an' now the fun's a'goin' to start right along. wow! this is what i like, an' pays up for a wheen o' lazy days. how the blood does leap through a feller's veins when he feels he's in action again. oscar, old boy, here's wishin' you all the compliments o' the season an' i hereby promise to send back whatever you throw me. go on and do your stuff, old hoss--i'm on to your game okay!" he found further cause for congratulation when he made certain that the plane was now headed for the smiling surface of the little bay close by, showing that the pilot intended to make his little splash, and take a look at the hidden sloop with its illicit cargo of many cases that had been so mysteriously snatched from the hands of those with whom he was in close association. this was as perk would have it if given any decision in the matter. once the amphibian started to taxi toward him and they would be placed on the same footing, each with a machine-gun to back him up and former experience in handling such a weapon equally balanced. could anything be fairer than that, perk asked himself, preparing for business at the drop of the hat? the plane had made contact with the water and was floating there like an enormous aquatic fowl of some unknown species. now the pilot was making a right turn as though meaning to come down on perk with the western breeze--his motor was keeping up more or less of a furore, which told perk that shrewd though these up-to-date contraband runners might be, at least they had slipped a cog by failing to keep up with the inventions of the times, for undoubtedly this pilot had no silencer aboard his craft to effectually muffle the exhaust of his engine. however, this was no time to bother about such minor things when the main issue was whether he was destined to "get" the ex-war ace, or the other put him out of action when the battle was on. perk shifted his gun so that its muzzle kept following the moving seaplane in its advance. let oscar but make a start in his projected bombardment, and perk stood ready to answer with a similar fusilade that must rather astonish the other, for as yet he could have no assurance that the concealed sloop was manned--doubtless he would figure the seized craft had been hidden here and temporarily abandoned until such convenient time as the captors could return with recruits and run it to some port where the confiscated shipment might be turned over to the proper authorities. just the same oscar gleeb might think it good policy to make sure of his ground by spraying the boat's deck with a round or two of searching missiles before attempting to board it. whatever way the cat was going to jump, perk knew the issue was bound to be joined before many more seconds slipped past, and he held himself ready. chapter xiii when greek met greek the seaplane had stopped short, although its engine still rattled away as vehemently as ever. perk understood the reason for this--oscar may have been a hot-headed youngster away back when the great war was on, but apparently his later experiences had cooled his blood to some extent and he did not mean to be too rash. doubtless he could by this time plainly make out the sloop which was so skillfully concealed, especially from the air above, and there may have been a sufficiently menacing air about it that called for caution. he was not such a fool as to blindly walk into what might prove to be a clever trap, set by a bunch of those despised government workers to catch him napping. accordingly he considered it good policy to hold off and pepper the sloop from stem to stern before taking any further steps at doing any boarding and seizing it for its rightful owners. then again, in order to get the best work from his firearms and have his hands free, he knew he should fix matters so he could drop the controls and pay strict attention to his other job. perk was lying low, holding himself in readiness for action. he believed he would be amply protected by the logs he had piled up, but just the same he did duck his head involuntarily at the first crack of the machine-gun the pilot of the curtiss boat was handling so lovingly, as though it might be an old and valued "baby" in his estimation. but just the same perk could not allow any misunderstanding to keep the other in ignorance of how matters stood--he had sent out his impudent challenge, and perk was quick to accept it. so the din was further increased by a second barrage, chiming in with perhaps its notes ranged along a little higher key, but on the whole playing skillfully and merrily its own part in the mad chorus that reigned. how the chatter of those two rapid-fire guns did carry on, with the splinters flying every-which way as the missiles tore them loose from the logs and the coaming of the sloop's deck. perk was compelled to do most of his work while keeping his head down, lest he be potted in that rain of bullets the other fighter was pouring in on him. consequently he could hardly be expected to do himself full justice. perhaps oscar on his part was working under a similar disadvantage, for he really had little in the way of a barricade to intercept the shower to which he was being subjected. lucky for him he had shown the good sense to stop his advance with considerable distance separating him from the hidden sloop--had they been closer there was not one chance in ten that some damage would not have placed his seaplane out of commission, even though the pilot himself escaped death. then suddenly a white flag shot up from the sloop's breastworks. oscar, with the gallantry such as had ever distinguished the air fighters on both sides in those days that tried men's souls, ceased firing. "give up?" he was bawling, as the rapid-fire guns both became silent, while their hot barrels cooled off a bit. "not so you could notice it," perk shouted. "jest wanted to exchange a few words with you, if you're oscar gleeb, an' it's true that you was a live-wire over there in france an' the argonne--say, is that all to the good, mister pilot?" the other did not answer immediately. plainly he must have been considerably astonished at the queer turn the engagement had taken; and then again possibly he did not exactly like the idea of being compelled to acknowledge his identity, fearing it might be only a trap to ensnare him in the meshes of the law he had been defying so flagrantly. "what's that matter to you?" he finally yelled testily, so that perk began to suspect he must have touched up the other with one of the bullets that struck the seaplane. "oh! nothin' much," sang out the complaisant perk, cheerfully, "on'y i wanted to let you know i was over there in the same line and had the good luck to send down a few o' you hun pilots in a blazin' coffin. wondered now if me'n an' you mightn't a had a private scrap o' our own in them bully times. allers did hanker to have a talk-fest with you, sense i heard 'bout you bein' one o' them bloomin' hot junker pilots." a hoarse laugh greeted this amazing sally of perk's. "say, what sort of a crazy gyp are you to want to talk things over while we got this scrap on?" bellowed the helmeted man in the shot torn cabin of the amphibian. "that's our boat you're standin' on, and we need it in our business, see? give you three minutes to clear out, for i'm comin' aboard. get that, kamarad?" "sure thing, oscar old hoss, but when you do it'll be feet first, for i'm fixed to fill your carcass so full o' lead it wouldn't need any cannon ball to sink you if you died at sea. so mind your step, mister pilot--jest been gettin' my hand in so far, but what's comin' next'll be a whole lot different, bet your boots!" the other did not show the white feather but immediately set to work once more with his weapon. no sooner was its chatter "on the air" than perk started giving his own gun a chance to show its worth. this made it lively again and once more those aggravating splinters began to scatter, worrying perk not a little, for strange to say he dreaded lest one of them find lodgment in his anatomy and this troubled him much more than the possibility of being struck by a speeding bullet. it was quite warm while it lasted, but presently perk realized that the opposition had suddenly ceased. being a polite man and always pleased to meet his antagonist on even terms, perk also stopped firing. if oscar had decided to advance once more and try conclusions at close quarters where it would be give and take, he, perk, could prove himself a most accommodating chap. sure enough the engine of the amphibian had started up with increased vigor and perk, cautiously lifting his head, saw that the plane was really in motion. but it was also veering to one side, which action might mean either one of two things--that the other had had quite enough of this exchange of hot fire and was pulling out, or else that in his crafty german way he was meaning some sort of flank attack in hopes of carrying the fort. faster and faster was the taxiing airship rushing through the water and perk continued to hold his fire, realizing that the fight was over. "go to it, oscar old hoss!" he burst out, as he grasped this clinching finish of the strange engagement with the rival gunmen separating after a hot exchange of compliments, each apparently able to move off under his own steam, "beat it for all you're worth while the goin' is good. there, he's lifted his crate in one big pull an' i kinder guess he ain't hurt much either, else he couldn't show so much steam. wall, here perk's been left in possession, after all that bluff he put up. but it sure was a dandy jig while it lasted." at that perk began to laugh as though the true perspective had flashed before his eyes for then, and later on, too, he was ready to declare that a more ridiculous as well as unprofitable battle had never been waged between two rival pilots of the upper air lanes. now the fleeing ship had mounted to a fair ceiling and was rushing off in a roaring zoom but perk noticed his late foe was heading due east as though bent on picking out an entirely different direction from the one he had used when coming with an impetuous rush to investigate the mysteries of the mangrove islands. "huh! that strikes me as a bit queer," perk was telling himself as he gazed after the ship, now growing smaller and smaller as it placed miles between them. "looks like oscar might a remembered a mighty important engagement he ought to keep. oh well, i've had my little shindig, and it's just as well we both came through okay--them as 'fights an' runs away, may live to fight another day,' that old sayin' has it which is sure a true thing. hey! what's this mean--seems like i didn't come through as soft-like as i figgered i had--blood on my hand, yep, an' on my face ditto. guess one o' them nasty zippin' bullets must a creased my ear, and fetched the juice a little. shucks! nothin' to bother about i'd say." he took his old red bandanna and dabbed at his right ear with many a grunt as well as chuckle. "seems like it's the only time i've weltered in my own gore for a coon's age," perk was saying as he looked at the stains on his faithful if faded rag that had been his close companion on many a long flight through fog and storm, wintry cold and summer heat. "but then i got a notion oscar must a'been nipped, too, mebbe a whole lot worse'n me. honors are 'bout even, i guess, and if ever i do run across that lad again i'm meanin' to shake hands with him, jest out o' consideration for the fox an' geese game us air pilots used to play in the big ruction over there." by chance perk turned his gaze in another direction for he no longer found any interest in keeping tabs on his late antagonist whose ship was now growing dim in the distance, having entered among a bunch of fleecy clouds. hardly had perk turned his head than he gave utterance to a low cry. "what do i see but another crate humping along this way, an' outen the no'th in the bargain?" he observed, with ill concealed eagerness in his tones. "could it be oscar, an' the other skunks got 'em a hull fleet o' airships to carry on their trade o' smugglin' in licker, diamonds an' chinks that want to get in this country more'n they do the yeller man's paradise? oh! rats, what'm i thinkin' about--wake up, gabe perkiser, an' use your noodle like it was given to you to handle. to be sure that second plane is our own bus, with my pal handlin' the stick. an' i guess oscar must a glimpsed him headin' this way, which made him reckon this wasn't the healthiest place in the country for a feller o' his size, so he skipped out _pronto_. yep, that's my pal for a cookey, i'd know his way o' handlin' a ship in a dozen an' as far as i could lamp the boat." on the whole he was extremely glad to see jack returning, although also pleased to know he had had his little frolic in a miniature battle that for the brief period of its life had been able to give him a most delicious thrill. he watched the oncoming ship grow in size and noted the significant fact that its approach was so lacking in all the customary racket that deafens the human ear. then presently a hand waved to him, jack swung around and dropped with a little splash upon the water--just where oscar had so recently left it--to taxi along and pull up close to the camouflaged sloop. chapter xiv the coast guard men perk made a discovery just then that afforded him more or less satisfaction. this was the fact that apparently jack's mission to tampa had not been in vain for he could see several heads in the cabin of the amphibian beside that of his best chum. "huh! 'pears like jack fetched through okay, an' has ferried some guys back with him to take this stuff off'n our hands," perk was muttering, even as jack started to clamber aboard the sloop, being closely followed by a couple of determined looking young men. "back again, brother," jack observed, as he clasped the extended hand of his partner, then, gave a queer grimace upon taking note of the splintered coaming of the sloop as well as the badly pockmarked barricade of mahogany logs. "say, what's all this mean, i want to know--looks like you might have been mixed up in some sort of rumpus while i was away!" perk grinned and nodded his head cheerfully. "had a heap o' fun, old boss, an' got loads o' thrills out o' it. mebbe now you noticed some sort o' crate just vanishing among them clouds off toward the east as you breezed along?" "thought i did," came the immediate reply, "but the visibility was getting poor, and i couldn't be sure it wasn't a buzzard, or even an eagle ducking in and out. what's it mean, perk--was he kicking up a mess around here?" "you said it, partner, an' his name was sure oscar--oscar gleeb, 'cause he got mad as hops when i asked him, an' told me that wasn't any o' my business. but we sure did have a nice hot spell, oscar'n me." "yes, and i reckon now you got your old right ear touched up again, perk, for i can see streaks of half-dried blood running down your cheek." "yeah, he nicked me okay, an' if this keeps on much further i'll soon be taken for the manassa mauler, 'cause it'll gimme a cauliflower ear. who are these two lads, jack--look like they might belong to the coast guard." "just what they are--meet tom cairns and red mcgrath, who have been sent along with me to take charge of this contraband and hand it over to mr. philip ridgeway, temporarily in charge of the treasury department interests along the west coast here, with headquarters in tampa--this is the fine pal you heard me speaking about a few times, boys--gabe perkiser, commonly known simply as perk, a veteran of the big scrap over in france where he flew one of those sausage observation blimps, and was later on considered something of an ace in our flying corps." so perk gladly shook the hands extended to him, grinned in his genial fashion, and from that moment on they were as brothers all. "while we're stretching our legs, after being cooped up in that cramped cabin for some hours," suggested jack, whose curiosity had naturally been aroused by the multitude of signs all around indicative of a warm session, "suppose you sketch your little adventure for us, perk. and i want to say that oscar was pretty much of a fool if he reckoned on snatching this boat away from an old fighter like _you_, when you had a nice new machine-gun to back up your claims." "shucks! he showed the right stuff for a scrapper," expostulated the honest perk, anxious to give credit where credit was due. "we stopped the barrage at one point to have a little chin, but unable to agree, we jest started all over again. an' i kinder guess i must've notched the critter some, for he hauled off an' skinned the cat by kickin' out. i was jest tellin' myself it sure turned out to be a good thing he didn't have any chinks aboard at the time, 'cause they might've lost the number o' their mess in the racket--i'm willin' to stop the yeller boys from crashin' unc' sam's gates, but i don't crave the job o' sendin' the poor dicks along to their worshipped ancestors, not me." "well, get a move on you, perk, and let's have the story of your fight--did he drop down, and have it out with you on the water; or was he circling above your head all the while?" "if you'll take another squint at these bullet marks, old hoss," said perk, reproachfully, "you'll see they passed along on the level. yeah, he was a square shooter i want to say and some day i'm hopin' me'n oscar c'n shake hands, since the war's long past an' german is being taught again in our public schools." then he launched forth in a graphic, if terse, description of the remarkable battle that had so recently taken place. the others listened with intense interest, for if perk did have a way of cutting his sentences short and never going into lengthy descriptions, nevertheless he made his points tell, and kept his audience of three breathing fast with the thrill they received. "now let's get a move on," jack was saying after perk had finished the exciting description of his adventure, "and go over all this mess of cases, so these boys can give us a little document to say how we turned over that number of boxes to their charge, together with the sloop. mcgrath here used to run the engine of a tug in new york harbor and is well able to manage this rusty cub here--we found it capable of doing a day's work, you know perk, on the way here." jack's word was law, since he was in command. accordingly they started a systematic check of every case of bottled goods to be found aboard the confiscated vessel, above and below decks. "just an even two hundred and twenty-six," announced jack, after they had gone over the entire lot twice with the same result. "i reckon a few got away aboard that speedboat but they didn't have much time to work the racket before the hijacker mob swarmed aboard and kicked up that riot--then along came perk, with his armful of tear-bombs and broke up the boston tea party in great shape. i'll make out a paper for both of you to sign, after which you can kick-off when you please." all this was satisfactory to mcgrath and his comrade and the paper having been duly signed, they set about examining the engine so as to learn whether it could have been injured in any way from the storm of missiles that came aboard during the hostilities so lately ended. "the bally old thing seems to be in fairly decent shape for running," was mcgrath's verdict after the checking had been completed, "and since we've got some distance to cover before we make tampa bay, p'raps we'd better be shoving off." "no such big hurry as that, boys," observed jack. "i'm a bit hungry myself and reckon you both must be in the same boat. we've got plenty of grub, and to spare, also perk here knows a few wrinkles along the cooking line. suppose we have some sort of spread to celebrate perk's victory." "huh! pleases me okay, brother," announced the expectant _chef_. "i've run across a little rusty kerosene burnin' stove here in what i'd call the cook's galley, an' we might as well have some hot coffee with the eats." as there were no dissenting votes the motion was carried unanimously; whereupon perk bustled around and soon had his coffee pot over an apology for a flame which would, however, answer their purpose. it was only a simple supper, but with good appetites to back them, every one of the quartette declared it was great and would long be remembered. then the mess of saw palmetto leaves and other stuff utilized for camouflage purposes was cast overboard after which mcgrath "fiddled" with the engine and soon had it running, limp and all, for its misses were plentiful, although the engineer allowed there did not seem to be anything fundamentally wrong. "if we have fair luck," he announced, confidently, "we ought to fetch our tampa dock, where all prizes are tied-up, before morning comes along. on the other hand, if we break down we'll either hang on to the sloop, or if luck runs against us, sink her, after smashing every bottle aboard." "good enough, red," jack told him as they shook hands for the last time. "i hope we run across you boys again some day, and please keep your lip buttoned about our being down here with an amphibian to knock some of these smugglers of chinks and rum galley-west." "you can depend on us to keep mum, jack," the red-headed ex-harbor tug engineer assured him. so the last line was cast off, jack and perk retired to their own ship, and with many a wheeze and complaint the sloop started to pass out to the open gulf, and commence the night journey to tampa bay. chapter xv with the coming of the moon "wall," perk was remarking as the sloop passed beyond range of their vision amidst the gathering shades of night, already drawing her sable curtains close, "i hopes they get through without runnin' smack against a bunch o' the racketeers." "with fair luck they ought to manage to slip along," jack went on to observe, confidently. "you heard me warn them to keep a watchful eye out for smugglers and hijackers by land and sea and air? anyway we've finished our part of the job and this paper proves that our find was all i cracked it up to be when i talked with mr. ridgeway." "course, you knocked up against the gent then, eh jack?" "sure, or i shouldn't have been able to fetch those lads back with me to take over the sloop and contraband cargo," the other told him. "but i was in a tail spin at first when i learned that mr. ridgeway had gone down to st. pete to interview some people who had reasons for not wanting to be seen going into his government offices in tampa. but i got his address and jumped my boat, slipped down tampa bay, and pulled in at the long municipal pier at st. petersburg." "i first hired a dependable man to keep watch over my ship while i was off hunting my superior officer but i found him after a bit and he was sure glad to see me, shook hands like a good sport, and asked me a bunch of questions before starting to tell me what important fresh news he had picked up through his agents working the spy game for all it was worth." "was he tickled to learn how we managed to run off with that slick little sloop that carried so neat a pack o' cases marked with foreign stamps?" "seemed to be," came the ready answer. "he isn't a man of many words, you know, perk, but what he says he means. he told me they were banking on the pair of us to bring the high-hat chaps at the head of this smuggler league to the bar, with plenty of evidence that would convict them, no matter how many big lawyers they employed to beat the case." "that sounds all to the good with me, old hoss," snapped the pleased perk. "'taint often we get half the praise that's comin' to us--not that i care a whiff 'bout that, though--satisfied to do my duty by unc' sam, an' let them high-ups have the main credit. but i guess we'll get some kick out o' the game just the same an' that's worth all it costs us. tell me, did this mr. ridgeway fork over any news worth knowin'?" "he did," the other assured him. "i showed him those papers i found hidden in the cabin of the sloop, with a fine list of names, such as would cover customers who'd ordered the stuff they had aboard and he reckoned that several of them might point to the heads of the combine swinging the big smuggling deal." "that would be a clue worth while, i'd say," perk asserted warmly, his eyes flashing with renewed zeal as though he might be telling himself they must be getting on a pretty warm scent which would soon lead them to the party they sought above every one else--the capitalist whose word was _law_, and whose money purchased all the supplies, from liquor and vessels to aircraft and everything else needful for carrying on their business of swindling the government through the treasury department. just as he always did in forestalling any likely move when an important case was placed in the hands of himself and jack, perk was already engaged in mentally spreading the net destined to gather in the chief culprits--the outlook promised a multitude of warm episodes calculated to stir the blood to fever heat and afford him the wild excitement without which life lost much of its charm--in his eyes at least. the pulsating throb of the old engine aboard the sloop had long since ceased to make itself heard, so that they could with reason believe mcgrath and his pal well on the way to their distant goal, with no sign of stormy weather to be seen in the southwestern heavens. "how 'bout spendin' the night here, partner?" perk queried, as he sat contentedly smoking his favorite pipe after the manner of a man who had good reason to congratulate himself on the close of a perfect day. "i was just thinking that over, perk. we might be in a worse situation than this, if locality was all that mattered. i don't believe the 'gators would keep us awake with their splashing and roaring along towards early morning, but then i'm a bit bothered thinking of the man who skipped out after having his little machine-gun duel with you." "you're jest crampin' my style when you say that, partner," complained perk. "that oscar happens to be a german, we both know, an' from what i learned about the breed when over there, they're some obstinate, once they get workin' in a game--hate to give it up wuss'n pizen." "i see you're of the same opinion as myself, buddy," jack remarked, nodding his head. "you reckon there might be some chance for him to pick up a bunch of his mates and swing back here to do a little bombing on his own account. well, we're not hankering to try our own medicine, not if we know it, and on that account i think we'd be wise to pull out of this and find a new refuge--perhaps on some lake back from the coast where we might pick up something interesting in our line." "je-ru-salem crickets! i kinder guess now you've got somethin' danglin' back o' them words old hoss," broke out the newly interested perk, showing considerable animation. he was used to most of jack's habits and could in many instances tell that something lay hidden back of his word--something of a character to promise great happenings when followed to a finish. that seemingly casual mention of a freshwater lake was not made without some deep meaning--jack must have been told something very important by the government official with whom he had gone into conference at tampa and this was his sly way of starting perk's wits to working overtime in the endeavor to figure things out. "wait and see what's in the wind, perk," said the head pilot, with a chuckle. "i promise to let you into all i know or suspect before a great while passes. just now i'll own up this scheme of slipping over to a certain sheet of fresh water for a change of base has a meaning that connects with our big game of blind man's buff." this seemed to square things with perk, for he beamed as though pleased. whatever jack decided was always all right in his eyes because he felt certain that the bright mind of his comrade just could not make a blunder. "when do we hop-off, then?" he said. "oh, when the moon shows up will be plenty of time," came the ready answer. "our objective isn't so very far distant and you know we can make a hundred miles an hour if necessary. i'd like to pick up a bit of my lost sleep while we wait, unless you object to standing sentry." "not me, matey, i managed to snooze some during the time you were away. lucky i had everything fixed for company and wasn't caught nappin' when our friend oscar tipped his hat an' made his bow. now i was wonderin' if he had that ole quick-firin' gun away back when he was riddlin' things along in the argonne--wouldn't it be a queer thing if true? he knew how to rattle that cantankerous bus to beat the band an' he did nick me in that silly o' ear o' mine that keeps on gettin' in the way every time i have a little spat with a sassy guy." perk insisted on his chum making himself as comfortable as possible, considering the cramped quarters they occupied in the cluttered cabin of their ship, which continued to keep up a soothing movement with the successive waves that worked in from the open gulf inclining a sleepy person to slumber. "i'll jest sit here an' ruminate while i consume my tobacco," announced the accommodating perk, making light of his job. "once in so often i'll take a look skyward with the glasses, so's to know if there's any chance o' oscar comin' back here to try it all over again. when the moon peeps up in the east yonder i'll put a hand on your arm, so's to let you know it's near time. go to it, partner--do your stuff." jack was feeling pretty tired, since he had enjoyed mighty little decent sleep from one cause or another during the last few nights. it was not at all surprising, therefore, that he should be in slumberland before five minutes passed after he and perk had exchanged the last word. the self-posted sentinel did just as he had promised, every little while he would quietly stand up and with the glasses take a keen observation, covering the blue vault above from one horizon to another, then, finding all serene, he would silently resume his seat, with only a sigh to indicate how he felt. once more he filled his everlasting pipe, began to puff delightedly, and finally lay back in a half reclining position to smoke it out. he was a great hand at ruminating, as he called it--allowing his thoughts to travel back to events that may have occurred months, and even years before, but which had been of such a nature as to fix themselves in his memory most tenaciously. this afforded him solid enjoyment, together with the charm of his adored pipe and he asked for nothing better. thus an hour, two of them, and more passed, with nothing out-of-the-way taking place to attract his attention. he figured that if the pilot of the curtiss-robin crate intended to come back that night, he was subject to some sort of delay. there was frequent splashing in the lagoon near by--at times perk could tell it must be caused by jumping mullet, but on other occasions the sound being many times exaggerated, he reckoned it had been made by an alligator plunging off a log into the water, either alarmed by some sound further off, or else possessed of a desire to enter a secret underwater den he laid claim to. this would probably have a second entrance, or exit, up on some hummock that perk had failed to discover when poking around on the preceding day hunting green stuff with which to conceal the deck of the sloop. suddenly perk noticed a slim streak of pale light fall athwart the propeller blade just before him and looking hastily up discovered the smiling face of the moon--a bit battered it is true, for the silvery queen of night was just then on the wane. it was high time they were moving and making for the goal jack had mentioned as an inland lake, though at no time did he give the name by which it was known to the settlers and tourists who flocked to florida during the late fall and early winter. so he touched jack on the shoulder, just he he had promised he would do, nor did he have to give the slightest shake for the other stirred and raised his head, showing he was wide awake. chapter xvi the lockheed-vega flying ship "moon coming up, partner!" was all perk said. "then it's time we were moving," jack told him as he started to stretch his cramped arms and yawn. "feel a heap better now after that little nap and ready for what's coming." they did not have much to do, since everything was in perfect condition for hopping-off--trust jack for that, with his slogan of "be prepared." "all set, perk?" asked the pilot, presently. "shoot!" was the terse answer. the bright moon would have to take the place of the customary equipment of a landing field in the way of guidelights, markers, and search-lights, but there was no necessity for so much light with the channel before him along which he could taxi unerringly, until, arriving at the point where the great gulf stretched out toward the western horizon, the speed must be advanced for the take-off. now they were free from the mangroves and jack accelerated the pace of his ship accordingly--two twin foam-crested waves rolled out from the pontoons as they sped along until, testing things, jack found that his charge was impatient to leave the water and leap upward into space. perk looked backward toward the scene of his amazing afternoon battle--how many times in the future would the picture rise in his memory to haunt him and bring that quizzical grin to his face. with the newly risen moon gilding the small waves of the gulf below them, the picture looked most peaceful. perk, although not much inclined to romance, could not but admire the spectacle after his own rude fashion while jack fairly drank it in as he continued to pay attention to his manifold duties. their course was almost due north, jack keeping out a score or more of miles from the coast, having reasons of his own for so doing--perhaps he found the wind more favorable out there and this is always an important factor in the calculations of a pilot of experience. just as in the earlier days of ocean steamers when they were also equipped with masts and sails, the latter were always hoisted when the wind favored, since this helped them make progress and saved coal at the same time. they had been booming along for something like half an hour when watchful perk, the observer, made a discovery worth while he believed. he communicated with his companion, the useful earphones chancing to be in place--trust perk for that. "somethin' doin' out there to the west, partner--look up to a higher ceilin' an' you'll see it. headin' to cross over our trail in the bargain, i guess." "a crate, all right," commented jack, whose quick eyesight had immediately picked up the moving object. "looks like it might a come all the way across the gulf--d'ye think from some mexican port, jack?" "like as not," assented the other. "these crooks make a start from any one of a score of jumping-off places, but always with a specified landing field ahead." "then you figger," continued perk, "he might be one o' the gang, fetchin' chinks across or mebbe precious stones, bought in paris, and shipped to mexico on the way to new york, eh, partner?" "chances are three to one that's what it means," jack told him. perk continued to wield his important binoculars and presently, when the lofty plane was passing over, he stated his opinion. "'taint _him_, anyway, that's dead sure, jack, i guess i ought to know a lockheed-vega crate, no matter how far away, or by what tricky moonlight either, 'cause you see i used to run one o' that breed for nearly a year when i took a whirl at the air-mail business up north out o' chicago till i had a bad crash an' quit cold." "that settles it then, partner," said the pilot, still observing the speck swinging past out of the tail of his eye. "i hadn't any idea it could be the same chap you had your little picnic with some hours back, for you told me he'd blown off toward the east." "jest what he did," replied the observer. "ginger pop! but what wouldn't i give right now to know jest whar that galoot was meanin' to drop down, once he gets over the land. how 'bout that, old hoss?" "it might help out considerable," admitted jack although not as much interested as perk considered he might be. "we'll sift things out in good time, and for all we know, run across a few surprises in the bargain." perk studied that last part for a minute, feeling almost certain jack had some deep meaning back of his words, but it proved too much for his capacity in the line of figuring out mysteries, and so he dropped it "like a hot potato," as he told himself. the mysterious air voyager had by now disappeared entirely, although they might still have caught the throbbing of his madly working motor had it not been for their own engine kicking up so much racket, jack not being inclined to make use of the capable silencer just then. perk had made up his mind that the unknown aviator, even if other than oscar gleeb, was undoubtedly working the same profitable line of business as the pilot of the curtiss-robin ship. so, too, perk considered it worth while to try and figure out the exact course of the high flyer as he was probably making directly for his intended goal and this knowledge was likely to prove useful to them later on. this he was able to accomplish. working mental problems come easily to one who has played the part of a navigator aboard a modern galleon of the clouds. "huh!" grunted perk after figuring out his problem twice and both times reaching the same conclusion, "the guy's really striking in to mighty near the same point jack's meanin' to make and mebee now our lines might cross if we both kept on goin' long enough." he studied this matter for some time, wondering if jack also realized the fact and had kept silent about it for good and sufficient reasons. it afforded the ambitious perk considerable satisfaction to hug the idea to his heart that possibly the chance might be given jack and himself to locate some of these land stations where all this flagrant smuggling business was going on--the prospect of their's being the force to deal the outlaw organization a killing blow brought in its train the thrill he loved so well. then came the moment when jack banked and changed his course radically, heading directly into the east where lay the peninsula of ponce de leon, seeker after the spring of eternal youth, and finding instead, a land of flowers. perk knew what this evidently meant--that jack had flown far enough up the west coast and was now bent on making for that inland sheet of fresh water he had mentioned to his comrade as a likely place for them to drop down and pass the balance of the night. the uncertainty was keeping perk keyed up to a high tension--something told him in no uncertain tones that jack had a vastly more important reason for attaining that lake than the mere desire to avoid attracting attention--just what it might mean he could not guess, for when he attempted to solve the enigma he found himself floundering in a shoreless sea of doubt and uncertainty that was baffling, to say the least. perk was mumbling to himself as if he might be on the verge of reaching some sort of decision. he bent forward several times as if about to make an important remark and on each occasion drew back, as though he could hardly decide how to approach the matter he had in his mind. then he would chuckle, as if it might have its humorous side as well as a serious one. already had they reached a point where he could easily see the shore several thousand feet below and now jack was sliding down as if bent on striking a ceiling that would be only a few hundred feet above the palmetto fringe perk could distinguish running along the coast. it seemed a fitting time for him to give jack the start he contemplated and so, summoning his courage, perk began to talk in as unconcerned a tone as possible. "partner, would you mind tellin' me what about this here oswald kearns?" chapter xvii okeechobee the mysterious "say that again, perk!" demanded the startled pilot, as though that apparently innocent question had given him a severe jolt. "oswald kearns--kinder queer name, i kinder guess now, an' i'm wonderin' if i ever heard it before--that's all, jack." the pilot was busy with his work in handling the ship and therefore debarred from turning his head to look at his companion but at least he could put the astonishment he felt into words. "so--you think that's a queer name, do you? well, i'm asking you again, where did you ever run across it--who ever spoke it in your hearing, perk?" "why--er, guess it was on'y _you_, partner," came the hesitating reply. "you don't say?" gasped jack, tremendously excited, "please tell me when that happened because i don't remember doing such a thing, though i meant to carry out our partnership arrangement this very night when we had settled down and could have a nice quiet confab--go on, though, and say when i lifted the lid, and let you into this part of our big game, perk." "huh! you talked in your sleep some, old hoss--first time ever i knew you to do sech a thing--said that name exactly three times, like it meant a heap in the bargain." "you mean _tonight_ while i was picking up a few winks of sleep--is that a fact, perk?" "sure thing, boss--course i knew somethin' must be pesterin' you like all get-out, so i made up my mind to ask you who that oswald might be an' what we'd got to do with such a critter." then jack laughed as the humorous side of his recent thrill had begun to grip him. "well, well, seems like i'll soon have to put a padlock on my lips after this when i hit the hay. it's a serious offence for a fellow in _our_ profession to give away his secrets like that! never knew myself to be guilty of babbling that way before. lucky you were the only one to hear me give the game away so recklessly. the joke is on me, partner." "but say, jack, whoever is this kearns guy anyhow--i sure never heard his name before tonight an' i kinder got the idee in my head he must be some big-wig you ran up against when in washington--somebody who had the orderin' around o' poor dicks like me'nd you." "that's a far guess, brother," jack told him, "for the fact of the matter is, this oswald kearns happens to be a certain party just now under suspicion as being the king-pin of these smugglers who're giving uncle sam a run for his money down along this gulf coast!" perk took it with a little break, as though the information fairly staggered him, but he was quickly back again at his fly-casting--seeking information at the fount in which he had so much faith. "you sent me into a reg'lar tail spin that time, jack, but after tellin' me so much, it'd be right cruel to keep me a'guessin' any longer." "i don't mean to keep you in the dark after this, perk," he was told in jerky, broken sentences, as though jack found it difficult to talk and pay the proper attention to what he was doing, for the amphibian had again commenced a steep dive, seeking a much lower altitude. "there are too many things connected with the story to try and spin it now--just hold your horses till we settle down on that lake, and you'll get it--all i know, or suspect, anyhow. just now i can only tell you that this kearns is a most remarkable personage, a baffling mystery to the department who's outsmarted the whole service and played his game of hide-and-seek before their very eyes--nobody so far has been able to pick up a shred of positive evidence that would convict him. "gosh, amighty, we're flyin' high, buddy!" was what perk exclaimed and immediately his wits went into a huddle. he must get busy and figure things out, just as football teams do when a change in signals becomes essential. they had been passing over the land for some little time and still jack kept heading almost directly into the northeast. he knew just where he expected to make his goal, due to a close application to his charts and maps of the florida region. debarred from fishing for information while the flight was on, perk was forced to seek consolation in making good use of his binoculars, sweeping the heavens for signs of other suspicious planes or endeavoring to make out the character of the terrain over which they were speeding. occasionally he managed to discover some tiny light and this gave him an opportunity to speculate as to its meaning--if isolated he concluded it must either be a campfire made by alligator hunters, or a street light in some small hamlet, such as he imagined might be found in this almost wild section of lower florida where the everglades with their eternal water kept settlers from picking out locations for starting truck patches or citrus groves--all of which would probably be vastly changed when the great reclamation plans for draining had been fully carried out. he often felt certain he glimpsed water below and had enough knowledge of the country to understand what that would mean. "wonder jest how long he means to keep this up," perk was saying to himself when the better part of an hour had passed since they left the open gulf behind, "huh! by this time we must a'gone more'n sixty miles an' say, in places the hull state ain't more'n a hundred across from the atlantic ocean to the mex. gulf. whoopee! could it mean he's aimin' to strike that terrible, big lake--okeechobee--that overflowed its banks not long ago when they had that nasty hurricane and drowned a wheen o' poor folks around moore haven? gee whiz! it's got me a'guessin' but then jack knows what he's tryin' to do, an' i'm goin' to leave it all up to him to settle." somehow this suggestion appealed to perk as being quite in line with the magnitude of their tremendous task--it was only appropriate to have the scene of their coming operations the biggest freshwater lake by long odds in the entire state, barring none--it would have been what perk might term as "small pertatoes, an' few in a hill," to have such a wizard of an operator as oswald kearns pick out an ordinary body of water, say of a mile in diameter, as his secret headquarters where he could continue to keep his whereabouts unknown to the government revenue men. lake okeechobee--well, that certainly offered some scope for any display of their own cleverness in finding the proofs they so yearned to possess in rounding up the "cantankerous varmint," as perk was already calling kearns in his yankee vernacular. it could not be much longer delayed, perk assured his eager self--less than another hour of this sort of work would take them entirely across the peninsula, and cause the plane to fetch up somewhere along the atlantic coast between miami and palm beach. much as perk would like to set eyes upon those two opulent southern winter resorts in the midst of their splendor, he felt that such a thing would hardly be proper under the conditions by which their visit would have to be governed--small chance for anything bordering on secrecy to be carried out in such a region of sport seeking and excitement day after day. ah! it must be coming closer now, he decided on noting how, far below the plane, he could make out what looked like a vast sea with little wavelets glimmering in the light of the moon--assuredly that must indeed be the lonely lake, long known as the home of mystery, okeechobee, the mightiest stretch of fresh water in the whole country of the south. jack was passing up along the western shore line as though his plan of campaign called for a descent in some obscure quarter where they could find a hideout in which to park their aircraft while they pursued their urgent call ashore. not the faintest gleam of light anywhere proved that settlers were indeed few and far between and this fact would also explain just why oswald kearns, wishing for secrecy and isolation, had selected this region as best suited to his purpose. now jack was dropping steadily, his silencer in full play--it was time for perk to get busy and through the use of his marine night glasses keep his pilot posted regarding what lay below them. chapter xviii the master crook one thing perk noticed with more or less satisfaction as they drew closer to the surface of the water was the fact that quite a stiff breeze seemed to be blowing out of the north. the waves were running up along the shore with considerable vigor and noise while the dead leaves hanging from the palmetto trees fringing the bank above the meagre beach kept up a loud rustling, such as would effectually drown any ordinary splash made by the contact of their pontoons with the surface of the lake. conditions could hardly have been more favorable for an undetected landing--the time was late, so that it hardly seemed as though any one would be abroad, the moon kept dodging behind successive clumps of dark clouds that had swept up from the southwest and everything seemed to be arranged just as jack would have wished. perk had received instructions from his mate to keep on the watch for certain landmarks that would serve to tell them they were not far distant from their intended location. when in due time he made out the wooded point that jutted out so commandingly from the mainland and had communicated that fact to the pilot, jack turned the nose of his craft sharply downward, proving that the decisive moment was at hand. noted for his ability to carry through a delicate landing, jack certainly never did a prettier drop into a body of water, fresh or salt, with less disturbance than on this momentous occasion, and they were soon riding like a wild duck, just within sight of the shore. there were no signs of anything stirring along the waterfront, perk observed, and yet if his suspicions were correct, there must have been considerable activity around that same spot, with a ship coming in laden with stupefied chinamen, terrified by making such a trip from cuba or some mexican port in a "flying devil" that could soar up among the very clouds and span the widest of angry seas--perhaps on the other hand the incoming aircraft would bring a cargo of precious cases, each almost worth its weight in silver or maybe the skipper would carry a small packet in his pocket that might contain a duke's ransom in diamonds that would never pay custom duties to the government. no wonder then perk was thrilled to the core with the sense of mystery that brooded over this most peculiar locality--to him it already assumed a condition bordering on some of those miraculous things he could remember once reading in his boyhood's favorite book "the arabian night's entertainment," the glamour of which had never entirely left him. but already jack was casting about, as though eager to find some place of concealment where they could stow the ship away and so prevent prying eyes from making a disastrous discovery--disastrous at least to those plans upon which jack was depending for the successful outcome of his dangerous mission. "we've got to taxi up the shore a mile or so," he was telling perk in the softest manner possible, although the noise made by the rolling waves and the clashing dead palmetto leaves dangling from the lofty crowns of the numerous trees would have deadened voices raised even to their natural pitch. "so," was all perk allowed himself to say, but it testified to his understanding of the policy involved in jack's general scheme of things. this was done as quietly as the conditions allowed, and how fortunate it was they had held off from crossing over from the gulf until the middle of the night--but then it might be expected that jack would consider all such things in laying out his movements. in the end they managed to get the amphibian between two jutting banks where the vegetation was so dense that there was no chance of a trail or road passing that way. in the early morning jack planned to once again conceal his ship, even as the captured sloop had been camouflaged by perk's clever use of green stuff. "that part of the job's done and without any slip-up," jack was saying, vastly relieved, "and now we can take things easy for a spell, during which time i'll try and post you as far as i can about this queer fish, oswald kearns, and what they've begun to suspect he's been doing all this while." "in the first place he's about as wealthy as any one would want to be, so the reason for his playing this game doesn't lie back of a desire to accumulate money. some say he must have run afoul of the customs service in the days when he hadn't fallen heir to his fortune and all this is just spite work to get even--a crazy idea, but there may be a germ of truth in it after all." "he has a wonderful place not far out of miami--they all say it's a regular palace, where he entertains lavishly and yet not at any time have they known of a raid staged on his castle, as some call the rambling stone building that shelters a curio collection equal to any in the art museums of new york city." "every little while oswald kearns disappears and no one seems to know his whereabouts--some guess he's fond of tarpon fishing and goes out with a pal to indulge in the sport, his destination being kept secret so that the common herd can't swarm about the fishing grounds and annoy him; then another lot say he is not the bachelor he makes out, but has a little cozy home somewhere else with a wife who detests society and that's where he goes when away from the miami paradise." "both of these guesses are wide of the truth--what they told me up at the treasury department set me thinking and i found some papers aboard that sloop we captured that opened up a startling line of action that might be unbelievable if it were any other man than the eccentric oswald kearns." "by the way, perk, after i'd committed the contents of those papers to memory i sent them by registered mail to headquarters because, you see, something might happen to us before we get to the end of this journey and i reckoned the department would like to be able to take advantage of our discoveries." "you did jest right there, partner," perk told him--he was sitting there drinking it all in with the utmost eagerness. "it sure would be a pity if we kicked off an' uncle sam couldn't profit by what work we'd done. but what you've already told me 'bout this here queer guy gets my goat, like as not there never was a feller as full o' kinks as he is." "i'm pretty certain of that, partner," jack assured him, "there's no doubt about his having been gassed in the war and that might account for his actions--he's dippy along certain lines and he finds this way of defying the government gives him the one big thrill he wants. it's almost incredible, i own up, but i believe we're going to prove it before we quit. "some men you know find this excitement in driving a speeding car along the beach up at daytona at a hundred miles and more an hour, others go out and hunt tigers in india, lions and elephants in wildest africa, but with this wealthy sportsman the craze takes the form of snapping his fingers in contempt at uncle sam's coast guard and all the revenue men in florida. "i was a bit skeptical at first, it all seemed so silly, such a whimsey for a rich man to fancy--taking such big risks just for the thrill he got--but the more i picked up about the man the less inclined i became to doubt, and by now i'm convinced it is the truth." "but what makes him keep all this smuggling business clear of this wonderful show place near miami?" asked perk, apparently still groping as though in a daze. "just wants to be living his double life," explained jack, "with one line never crossing the other--you might call it a jekyll and hyde sort of an existence. but the truth will come out in broad daylight if ever we _do_ round him up and catch him with the goods." "er--'bout how long will we be in makin' some sort o' start, boss?" asked perk anxiously. "we may have to stick around here for some days while we do a little spy work and lay our net," jack told him. "a great deal depends on, how the land lies and what success we strike in making our approach--you know how it is with all golfers--approach means a whole lot to them. but if we have the good fortune to nab our man after making certain we have plenty of convincing evidence to be used against him, why there's our boat ready to spirit him away before his gang can forcibly take him off our hands." chapter xix the scent grows warmer it all seemed so simple, as jack put it, that perk felt everything was bound to come their way eventually if not just then. all the same his sound common sense told him there was apt to be some pretty lively times in store for them before the end they sought had been obtained. he had the feeling of one who had been fed up on thrilling details and figured on having a great volume of tragic possibilities to mull over in his customary fashion--for all the world, as jack often told him, like a cow chewing her cud. realizing that jack had now posted him thoroughly, perk managed to curb his curiosity besides, the chances were his pal would be likely to frown on anything approaching garrulity. several hours passed and most of this time they spent taking short naps in order to keep in condition for anything that might crop up. then came the dawn, to find perk pawing over his haversack in which he had food stowed away, with which he calculated to meet any "hold-over" that might come along. that dawn was a wonderful one, especially for those unaccustomed to what florida could offer in the way of sunrises. even while the pair partook of their limited breakfast, they kept an eye on the amazingly delicate shades of color that marked the approach of the sun above the eastern horizon. but they had work ahead and could not waste time by lingering over the early morning meal. in order to lessen the chances of discovery it would be necessary for them to conceal the ship from spying eyes and with his former effectual result in camouflage as a sample of how it could best be accomplished, perk took it upon himself to repeat the operation. they had aboard the amphibian a cleverly arranged collapsible canvas boat that could be launched in short order and was to be propelled by means of a short but serviceable paddle. while up in canada with the mounties, perk had become quite proficient in the use of a paddle and also in balancing by sheer instinct while in a tipsy little canoe. accordingly he convinced his chum that since both of them could hardly expect to occupy the small shallop and carry any quantity of greens, it was up to him, perk, to put the job through in good shape. jack could be checking up his motor and taking a survey of the boat so as to make certain it was in serviceable condition. "cause you know, partner," perk went on solemnly, "when we _do_ want to skip out it's bound to be in a hoppin' hurry an' there'd be no time to look her over then, by jiminy. jest lie around an' take things easy-like--your work is a'goin to be mostly with the brain, while i'm the lad to use the muscle." jack felt that since the canoe was so diminutive, perk's logic was unanswerable, so he agreed to the division of labor. "only, if it turns out that the job's a bigger one than you reckon on, buddy, you'll let me take a whirl at it," he suggested, to which the other simply grinned and nodded his head. the work went on steadily and perk eventually had every part of the amphibian covered with deceptive green stuff, well calculated to hoodwink any air pilot passing directly over the spot. this accomplished, he was ready to call it a day and drop down close to jack for a resting spell. when they talked it was in low tones, almost bordering on whispers, for jack took no chances of some enemy being within gunshot range of their hideout, whose ears would be likely to catch the sound of ordinary voices. jack, observing what his chum had accomplished, felt compelled to give the artist his meed of commendation. "you sure made a fine job of smothering things with all this stuff, perk," he told him, which was music in the other's ears, since he would rather have jack praise him than any one he knew. "no easy thing to hide these stretched-out wings and the fuselage, too, as well as the shiny parts of the crate--motor, propeller, and such, but _you_ fixed it to beat the band." "can that sort o' talk, partner--it was a soft job an' anybody with sense could a'done it as good as yours truly. goin' to be a sure enough long day, 'cordin' to my way o' lookin' at it." "oh! nothing like having a little patience," commented jack calmly, for he seldom showed signs of being in a hurry. "men in our line of business must learn to just hang on and wait for the proper minute to strike the hook home in the fish's jaw." "yeah, an' then hang on some more, after they git the barb well hooked, with the game fish kickin' up an awful row," chuckled perk. "huh! don't i know how impatience is my besettin' sin and ain't i always a'tryin' to curb it? that's why i'm crazy to work in double harness with you, brother, 'cause you hold me in when i feel like spreadin' myself brashly. guess i know when i'm well off. time to take another spin in dreamland, seems like," with which remark perk assumed as easy a position as the crowded cabin of the ship admitted, closed his eyes, and so far as jack could tell from his regular breathing was asleep. it was indeed a long morning for them both. came noon and they again proceeded to enjoy a snack, for appetites have a habit of growing rampant despite any lack of expenditure in the way of muscular activity. "i was jest thinkin," perk remarked as they chewed their dry food, more as a duty than because they enjoyed it, "that we might be put on short rations if we're held up on this here job any great length o' time." jack refused to be disturbed by such a possibility. "oh! i reckon there isn't much chance of _that_ happening," he said in his usual optimistic manner. "if things get pretty bad we can make a foray on the pantry of the shack where our friend puts up when over here. knowing that he's fond of his grub, with oceans of the long green to lay in the best of supplies with, i rather think he keeps a well-stocked larder at all times. i don't figure on either of us being starved out while there's a flock of eatables close by," and from the way in which perk licked his lips on hearing this said, it was plainly evident he fully agreed with his pal. after that wonderful sunrise, which even perk had called glorious, the sky clouded up around noon and there were even signs to warn them that rain might come along by nightfall. the visibility, too, became somewhat poor which possibly was one reason that influenced jack to make a certain decision which perk heard later on with unbounded pleasure. "it's getting on my nerves a bit, too, i must confess, perk," was the way he started to state his case, "and since there would be small chance of discovery, thanks to this muggy atmosphere, what's to hinder our taking a little stroll, keeping a wary eye out for stragglers?" "i get you, partner," was the eager way perk snapped him up on the proposition which exactly tallied with what he himself had been wishing. "i calculate now it means we c'n move around an' get tabs on this here hideout o' the gent we're so much in love with, eh, what?" "wouldn't do any harm to learn the lay of the land," jack told him, "especially since we mean to do most of our snooping under cover of night. so let's step out and take our little saunter. we know right well in a general way that the shack must lie down the shore, by that point jutting out a mile away. let's hope we'll be able to run across some kind of trail by following which we'll fetch up as close as we want to go for the first time. both of us must make a mental map of everything we see so as to feel sure of our ground when darkness comes." "that's the ticket, partner, let's go!" perk lost no time in picking up the small hand machine-gun, that could be used much after the fashion of a long barreled german luger quick-firing pistol and when jack looked dubiously at it his chum hastened to explain his reason for lugging such a weapon along. "huh! the weight don't count with such a husky as me, old hoss an' how do we know what's goin' to happen before we gets back here? these guys, i take it, are quick on the trigger and if we got to fight we'd have a better chance to pull out alive if we carried this little pill-box." "oh, well! have it your own way, brother," jack told him, evidently impressed with perk's logic; and so they started forth. chapter xx denizens of the florida swamps after all it was perhaps a wise determination on the part of jack to thus take time by the forelock and endeavor to learn the lay of the land while a fitting opportunity lasted. to start out when darkness lay over everything, with no knowledge whatever concerning the prospect before them, would have doubled the chances for some grievous calamity overtaking them even before they were ready to strike their first blow. jack had a pretty strong suspicion they were in the neighborhood of some stretch of swampland--he was backed in this supposition by several things--the general low lay of the ground bordering the great lake and also the fact that snowy white egrets, as well as cranes, flew to and fro during the early morning, as though they must have a roost not far away and he had been told that as a rule these gathering places were to be found in the gloomy depths of a swamp. if they should chance to lose their way in those dark and dismal swamps and find themselves mired in the mud holes, they would be in a sorry fix, and they might even be forced to shout for assistance in order to save their lives, thus revealing themselves to their enemy, for the tenacious muck had a tendency to act in the same treacherous fashion as quicksand, clutching the victim and dragging him down, inch after inch into its unfathomable depths. hardly were they started than one pleasing discovery was made. just as jack had hoped might be the case, a dim trail was struck not far back from the border of the silent lake, that gave promise of leading them in the course they planned to go. jack made certain that there were no signs of this trail having been used by human beings--at least in recent times; possibly it may have originally been an indian trail in those days when osceola and his gallant followers dared defy the powers at washington and declare open war upon the few white squatters at that time in the southern portions of the florida peninsula. or, what was more probable still, it might be only the pathway used for ages by innumerable four-footed denizens of the swamp,--deer, panthers, raccoons, 'possum, foxes, wildcats and the like. it was a meandering trail, evidently following the path of least resistance for on both sides the shrubbery, together with wild grape-vines and various other climbers, made a solid barrier that even a weasel might have found difficult to negotiate. presently their road skirted the border of the swamp jack had felt so certain could not be far away. here new and wonderful sights greeted their eyes and perk in particular stared with all his might, taking in the flowers that festooned many of the trees--palmetto, live-oaks, wild plum, gumbo limbo, and queer looking cypress, with their cumbersome butts rising several feet from the ooze in which they grew. most of the trees were festooned with long trailing banners of gray spanish moss that gave them a most unusual appearance. since it was perk's first hand knowledge concerning the looks of a genuine southern swamp, he felt justified in making frequent halts in order to gaze and wonder. particularly was he impressed with the giant alligator that had been sunning himself on a half-submerged log and had slid off with a splash at their approach, also the multitude of water moccasins to be seen on stumps and other objects, looking most vicious with their checkered backs and dusty bellies. "you want to take particular notice of those dirty looking boys," jack told him in a low tone, pointing to a bunch of the reptiles as he spoke, "for they are water moccasins, cowardly enough, but always ready to give you a sly stab and i've been told they are so poisonous that even if a man didn't die after being struck, his wound would never heal properly and his life become a burden to him. give the critters a wide berth always, partner." "huh! you jest better believe i will, jack--never did care much for snakes, even the harmless kinds an' i'd jump three feet in the air when out west, if ever i heard a locust buzz, thinkin' it must be a rattler. me an' the crawlin' breed don't mix, that's what." hardly three minutes after perk had given expression to his dislikes, jack caught him by the arm and with a trace of excitement that was really foreign to his nature, pointed to some object close to the trail they were following. "jeru-salem crickets!" gasped jack, possibly a bit louder than discretion would warrant but jack felt there was some measure of excuse for his outburst. there a monstrous diamondback rattlesnake, fully five feet long and as thick through the body as a good-sized man's thigh, had just raised its enormous flat head and opened its jaws to display its terrible fangs. even as the two stood there and stared, the rattle began to whirr its deadly warning. "it's all right, perk," said jack soothingly, not certain what the effect of so dangerous a neighbor might have upon his sensitive pal, "we can pass him by out of reach. a rattler, unless madly in earnest, never tries to strike further than his length for he has to get back in his coil in a hurry, being helpless to defend himself unless curled up." jack showed that this was true by passing the spot, with the venomous reptile only increasing his rattle and drawing back his head. then perk shut his teeth hard and followed suit but it might have been noticed that he kept to the extreme edge of the narrow trail and had his muscles all set, as if in readiness to make a mighty spring if he thought the snake was about to launch his coils forward. "whew!" hissed perk, after he had safely negotiated the peril that lay in the road, "i'm a'thinkin' what risks we got to run tonight when we come a'snoopin' 'long this way. nigh makes my hair curl to figure on that baby comin' slap up against my leg. wish now i had my old leather huntin' leggings with me to ward off them terrible fangs, each one an inch long, seemed like to me." "between us, brother, i myself don't seem to hanker traveling along this trail after dark, and i mean to carry that small flash of mine, turning the light on every few seconds for i don't believe it would be noticed. but they tell me these whoppers are rather scarce around these sections--there may not be another inside of five miles." "glory! i should hope not," said the still trembling perk, "but i just can't forget we've got even one here to bother us. if only i dared use my gun, i'd soon knock spots out o' him, bet you a cookey, jack." "nothing doing, so forget that, partner. on the way back, if he's still holding the fort, we might get a couple of long, stout poles, and try to knock him on the head if it can be done with little confusion--he won't make any noise outside of whirling his rattlebox and we could keep our lips buttoned tight. yes, that would be the best way to fix things, i reckon." really jack was saying this so as to comfort his mate; he realized that perk had received a severe shock at sight of the diamondback crawler and it might affect his desire to do any prowling around after nightfall which would throw the entire burden of so doing on his, jack's shoulders. besides, there was a fair chance that the snake would have withdrawn from his self-imposed task of guardian of the swamp trail and taken himself off to other pastures. they resumed their forward progress, with perk keeping a watchful eye out for other lurking perils--how were they to know but that an angry bobcat, bent on disputing this invasion of his tangled realm, might make a sudden spring from some limb of a live oak and land upon their backs to commence using his keen claws, tearing and stripping and snarling like a devil, such as these beasts always were reckoned in such sections of the country as he, perk, had hunted. ten minutes, fifteen, passed then jack again caught his chum's arm and with a finger pressed on his own lips to betoken the necessity for silence, pointed to something ahead that must have just caught his attention. and perk, looking, saw a sight that afforded him a sense of satisfaction both deep and profound. chapter xxi the mysterious coquina shack "hot ziggetty! so _this_ is where he dropped down, is it?" perk was muttering in subdued excitement as his astonished eyes fell upon a plane bobbing on its pontoons in a sheltered little cove, "meet that spruce lockheed-vega bus, partner, that clipped past away over our heads, an' the woozy pilot never dreamin' our crate was within a hundred miles o' him. kinder guess the pirate roost must lie around here somewhere." "that's a dead sure thing, perk," whispered jack, "and chances are it's hid in the midst of that live-oak clump yonder, where i take it the land lies high and dry." "i swan but this is gettin' real excitin' an' suits me okay," breathed the duly thrilled perk, who felt there was no longer any reason for calling things tame. "by changing our base a bit," suggested jack almost as equally pleased over their success as his nervous chum, "we might even be able to get a squint at the shack, let's try, buddy." he lost no time in creeping inch by inch along toward the right, having apparently figured out that such a course would give them a better all-around opportunity to gratify their curiosity. it proved to be a wise move for presently they managed to glimpse what seemed to be the corner of a small cottage, built of coquina rock and altogether attractive in appearance, proving that the big boss never hesitated to spend money when he could secure results. "huh!" gurgled perk, stretching his neck so as to see better through the narrow opening that served them as a lookout, "some toney, strikes me, considerin' the desolate country round-about this section. must be his high-hat tastes foller him, no matter where he goes--sorter dude, i'd call him, partner." "that may be," agreed jack, "i understood he ran in that groove but just the same they say this kearns is a real he-man an' can put up a warm scrap when necessary--the dude racket is only a thin veneer hiding the genuine article. i was warned never to let him get a chance to beat me to the draw--some call him a rattlesnake, only he lacks that reptile's honesty in always giving warning when about to strike. don't forget, perk, in dealing with this slick article you've got to be on your guard every minute of the time." "glad you told me that, jack, i might a'been fooled, an' treated him as a soft guy. looky thar, will you, boy--two--three fellers jest swarmed out o' the shack an' gone into a huddle like they had some sorter game to set up. wonder now if one o' the bunch could be _him_!" "i reckon not, perk," came in a low tone from jack, whose head was only a few inches away from the other's, "none of them answer the description that was given to me. i even saw a snapshot taken of several society folks in front o' his miami castle, with him standing in the center. one of this lot's the flying man connected with that crate--you can see he's still wearing his greasy dungarees and has his helmet on his head, like he expected to be hopping-off any minute now; a second chap is short and thick, not at all like the one we've come so far to buck up against, while the third, while tall, looks like a roughneck skipper of a speedboat." "guess you hit the nail on the head, jack," muttered the convinced perk, for they were at some little distance away from the consulting trio, and their whispers could never have been heard with the dead leaves on nearby palmetto trees keeping up their harsh clashing when whipped by the gusts of wind. both of the spies must have had a host of speculations passing in review through their active minds as they lay there watching the conspirators so earnestly talking and gesticulating. from time to time jack and his chum would cast further glances in the quarter where the trim aircraft lay anchored, bobbing up and down like a restive horse eager to be off. what did they fetch on their voyage through the upper air lanes, coming from some unknown port--hardly "case stuff," jack told himself, since space aboard the lockheed-vega crate would be limited--then it must be either yellow chinks trying to crash the gates of the country that banned some of their race as undesirable aliens, or possibly the winged courier carried a batch of precious stones from far-away paris, forwarded in a round-about, surreptitious way and intended to reach a ready market in the wealthiest country in the world, of course, without paying the usual heavy customs duty--which saving alone would likely reach well into six figures. the trio seemed to have finished their discussion, whatever its nature might have been, for they sauntered down to the edge of the water where the man in the dungarees proceeded to embark by means of a small boat that he could leave secured to the mooring rope of the amphibian when he took off. "making off to pick up another cargo, i reckon," jack ventured. "and so this is where our friend has his secret hideout at such times when he so mysteriously disappears from his big show place near miami? mighty interesting, i'd call it and the chances are he's been keeping up this double play racket for many months, perhaps even for years, for he came to florida not long after the war, fishing for tarpon down around the ten thousand islands where we lay concealed lately." "but what's the big idea, partner?" perk wanted to know--"why under the sun does he play both ends o' this queer game--what's the sense o' his havin' this wee shack in the wilderness when he could carry on his racket just as well on the eastern shore?" "just because he fancies the idea of keeping his two personalities as far apart as possible, perk. uncle sam's coast guards, revenue officers and even secret service men fairly swarm around miami most of the year so they'd be apt to make it more or less unpleasant for the elegant oswald kearns in his society functions if he had his pals dodging in and out of his princely palace. he prefers to drop over here in this desolate place instead when he has a lot of business to transact. he's a wonder, all right, in his double line, perk, and not to be underrated, understand." "seems that way, partner," grumbled the other quickly adding, "there goes the lockheed-vega spinnin' out o' the lagoon to the open lake so's to get up enough speed for the take-off. must be somethin' mighty special to coax that pilot to risk bein' seen in open daylight. so he used to fish in them passages 'tween the mangrove islands years ago, did he, jack?" "sure did, and they told me his guide some years ago down there used to be a notorious smuggler and gulf-stream pirate, no other than jim alderman, right now in the jug over at fort lauderdale on the eastern shore and waiting to get a hempen collar for murdering three law officers in august two years back. of course, he hadn't started his real career of crime when he used to be a guide for roosevelt, zane grey, the writer, and some other famous sportsmen." "do tell," murmured perk, duly thrilled by what his pal was telling him concerning one of the most turbulent characters known along the florida coasts since those days of old when buccaneers like blackbeard, gasparilla and others of their ilk roamed the subtropical waters and swarmed aboard such unfortunate spanish galleons as chance threw their way. "i wouldn't be surprised," jack went on to whisper, "if he goes under quite another name while over in this hideout and even manages to alter his looks more or less. he's capable of playing many parts if he's half as good an actor as i suspect. but we'll be apt to know a heap more before a great while slips by." "there he goes, jack, swingin' off toward the east in the bargain, but then it's just as easy for a flier to strike across the lower end o' florida, if the notion strikes him, day or night. crates are gettin' to be a common sight these days down here. i read they expected to have a full hundred at miami this very winter, takin' part in a big air derby that's scheduled to be pulled off." they watched the other two men walk back and enter the coquina bungalow and a little later jack was saying: "strikes me we'd better pull up stakes and clear out of this, perk, don't forget we've got to pass that rattlesnake cove on the way back, and for one, i'm not so keen about doing it in pitch darkness." "don't get me goofy, partner," whimpered perk with a shudder. "but hold on a bit--mebbe now somethin's a'goin' to strike up we'll both be sorter glad to set eyes on--looky there, old hoss, what do you see?" chapter xxii the man of many faces a man had come out of the odd-looking shack constructed from the coquina rock found in different parts of florida, and formed by insects, science has decided. neither jack nor his companion had ever set eyes on him before, he was an entirely different personage from the short party and the longer-limbed man they had so lately been watching before the reckless pilot of the lockheed-vega plane departed toward the east. this individual was also tall and was dressed in well-worn outing garments that gave him the appearance of a man of leisure taking a day off. "think that's this here kearns, partner?" whispered perk, eagerly. "just who it must be, perk," came the cautious reply. "be careful about making any sort of little move that might catch his attention, and keep your eyes fastened on him. whatever under the sun is he doing, i wonder?" "looks to me he's got some sorter bird there--i c'n see red feathers--yep, that's what it is for a fact, jack!" "working over a bird with red feathers," said jack, as if to himself, so low was his voice. "now, that makes me remember something i was told only a short time back--something connected with that wonderful place he owns over on the east coast--about birds too--stuffed birds, in fact!" "do you mean he's got a collection there, jack?" breathed the intently watching assistant in his companion's ear. "just that," came the ready reply, "a mighty fine collection too, from all accounts, of native florida birds and filling a number of glass cases. we already know this party is a man of contradictory habits, being one thing among society people and just the opposite when he gets in a different atmosphere. chances are he's a pretty fine amateur taxidermist--those birds have all been secured by himself and mounted in the bargain--that when he drops out of sight around miami it's to come over here to do some hunting in the swamps and the everglades, eager to run across some rare bird that he needs to make his collection complete." "now wouldn't that jar you?" he gasped, vastly astonished at hearing jack air his conviction. "i'm not much of an authority on rare birds," jack admitted softly as he continued to use his eyes to advantage, "but i've got a hunch that skin he's handling right now might be a roseate spoonbill--i'm sure it isn't a red ibis, for the bill seems different." "whee! sounds queer to me, i must say jack--such a man, such a man--to play so many different parts! say, d'ye know i kinder guess he ain't such a tough guy under all the varnish--must have a heap o' human natur' under it all to fall for such a decent game as taxidecentry or whatever you call this pluggin' dead birds an' makin' 'em sit up on boughs like they might be all to the good!" "put it mostly on that war experience he went through, perk--they say once a man was gassed pretty badly over there, he'd always prove to be a queer fish--changeable, nervous and apt to do all manner of strange things." "but see here, partner," whispered perk, uneasily, "that ain't a'goin to make any perticular difference with our billet, is it--jest 'cause he's got this funny streak runnin' through his doin's we don't reckon to throw up our hands an' call it all off, do we?" jack chuckled. "not any, buddy--we only know that uncle sam wants his activities cut short--it may be exciting sport for him to ferry chinks across from cuba or honduras, land big cargoes of booze on our shores with his thumb to his nose insofar as the government is concerned, and such capers as that, but it means heaps of trouble for the revenue boys as well as holding our laws up to contempt. he must be brought to book, and his game stopped without any more delay than is necessary, no matter how many other innocent recreations he's engaged in." "hot ziggetty! that gives me a warm feelin' again, partner an' i guess we're the boys to knock the underpinnin' loose so's to make him drop with a splash." saying which, perk relapsed into utter silence. for some further time they stuck it out, watching every little movement of the remarkable character proceeding with his labor, not a hundred feet distant. jack himself began to grow a bit nervous, for the sun was just hovering above the western horizon and twilight does not last any length of time in the south. if they delayed much longer it would mean a walk in the dark over that dangerous dimly marked trail. they could have no further doubt concerning the nature of the work that was giving the suspected man so much genuine pleasure, he had held up the object of his labor several times so they could plainly identify it as a birdskin with the most lovely rosy-tinted feathery plumage, long legs and a spoon-shaped bill. then greatly to the relief of the uneasy perk, the short man came out of the shack and said something that caused the other to accompany him back, thus clearing the field. "now let's skip out," jack said softly. accordingly both watchers commenced sliding and creeping for all the world copying the movements of a cat ambushing a feeding sparrow in the back yard of a suburban place. although so anxious to get started on their way back to where they had left their camouflaged ship, neither jack nor his comrade would take chances in trying to make haste; they had long ago learned the folly of one false move when engaged in their accustomed job of spying upon a suspected law-breaker whom they had tracked down after an arduous chase. when finally they reached a point where it was safe to pick up a little speed, jack hastened to do so. for a wonder perk was not saying a word--the truth was he had his mind so filled with bewilderment in connection with the queer happenings of the last hour that he could not think of any further questions to ask his chum. then, too, perk kept on the alert for any peril that might by chance lie in wait along the trail--there were other dangers besides that solitary rattlesnake that might suddenly crop up to give them a chill--how about those nasty looking water moccasins that swarmed in the oozy swamp?--what of the ferocious bobcats such as were said to crouch on the lower limb of some tree close beside a woods trail, waiting to drop down on any moving object that came along?--yes, and other things just as creepy that his excited mind could readily conjure up? they were, as perk judged, about halfway to the spot where they had seen mr. rattler earlier in the day and the dusk was certainly beginning to make all objects look more or less dim, when jack suddenly stopped, giving perk quite a shock. "listen!" jack was saying huskily. a far-away and faint buzzing sound came to perk's ears but instead of adding to his excitement it really seemed to cool his blood, for surely this had nothing whatever to do with snakes of any kind. "huh! must be a crate partner!" bubbled the relieved perk. "no question about that, perk, and growing clearer right along, showing it's heading this way." "mebbe the lockheed-vega comin' back again?" ventured perk. "hardly likely," he was told instantly, "for one thing you'll notice this motor racket swings up to us from the southwest, while the other ship struck off toward the east." "that's straight goods," perk hastened to admit. "funny i didn't get on to that right away. means our gent has a raft o' ships comin' an' goin' when he takes a notion to drop over here once in a while." "well, we can't stop to listen any longer," said jack again starting off with the other trailing close at his heels. the buzzing grew rapidly in volume, proving that no matter where the advancing plane came from, its destination must be that secluded little cove close to the coquina shack sheltering the man of many faces, who went from fields of excitement to those connected with society functions, entertaining guests in royal style or following his favorite pursuit along the enchanting line of adding to his prized collection of florida birds. presently perk heard a splash and knew the amphibian must have reached its goal. chapter xxiii a pugnacious rattler in good time they reached the narrow point on the animal trail which marked the scene of their adventure with the rattlesnake. perk, wishing to be prepared for anything that might greet them, had picked up a stout cudgel with which he believed he could give a good account of himself should the occasion arise. but they passed the place and he was beginning to breathe easier when he was thrilled by a brisk and ominous sound from just ahead. instinctively perk clutched his chum by the arm and dragged him back a pace although this was really unnecessary, since jack had stopped walking at the same instant as perk. "gosh all hemlock!" broke out perk, "what d'ye think o' that--jest awaitin' round for us to come along--what a 'commodatin' little pet he is!" jack could see the suggestive bulk of the coiled snake lying on the path, with scant room on either side for them to pass--oozy depths of the swamp on one side and an angry rattler on the other. "just blocks our game whichever way you choose to look at it," chuckled jack with a shrug. "if we were monkeys, we could shin up a tree and climb over to that other one beyond, but since we're neither simians nor fox squirrels, we'll have to settle this thing some other way. drop that club, brother--it's too short for this business by three feet. to try and use it on that chap you'd have to step up within range of his spring and before you could get in your lick it'd all be over." "jest as you say, partner," remarked perk, throwing the stocky club away. "wait up for me, jack, an' don't let him skin out till i get back. i saw a stick just back a bit that ought to fill the bill okay." jack stood on guard and waited but not for long, since perk speedily rejoined him, carrying a pole about eight feet in length and stout in proportion. "careful how you work it," advised jack, who would rather have done the job himself but knew he would not be allowed by the ambitious one. as perk slowly advanced, waving his pole, the coiled serpent displayed signs of redoubled anger--louder buzzed his rattle while he drew back his flat head as though in readiness for action. "hold it there, buddy!" snapped jack. "now get a firm grip on your pole and draw back for a vicious rap--you've got to get him square in the middle and follow it up with more whacks in a big hurry. don't step any closer whatever you do. now, give him fits, perk!" this the other proceeded to do with might and main. the sprightly buzz suddenly ceased as the great folds of the monster began to squirm and writhe--perk lifted his pole and put in another blow for good measure. "huh!--guess now he's got his for keeps," gasped the victor in the singular duel as he managed to get in a third and deciding stroke that crushed the flat head of the reptile and forever ended its capacity for business. they were soon bending over the still squirming snake, perk eagerly measuring its length by footing it off and announcing it to be just one inch over five feet. "gimme just a minute so's to whip off that bully rattle, partner," he was saying as he produced a big pocketknife and opened its large blade. "i want it to show if any guy ever questions the truth o' my yarn 'bout these here florida rattlers. there you are, an' now i'm ready to move on. but we got to keep our eyes peeled, 'cause i been told these critters nearly allers have a mate somewhere near by. an' i'm meanin' to hang on to this bully pole, since we got to come back this way more'n a few times, seems like." nothing else cropped up to disturb their peace of mind and in due time the pair arrived at the secluded lagoon where they had left their aircraft so artfully concealed. apparently nothing had happened in this quarter since they started forth on their mission, and yet what strange things had they not seen inside those few hours. "seems like supper'd come in fair good jest new," perk remarked after they had climbed carefully aboard and were once more comfortably seated in their accustomed places, "but sorry to say it's bound to be only a 'pology for real grub--dry fare and never even a drop o' water to wash it down with." and he emitted a disgusted grunt, as if to display a proper amount of displeasure over the doleful fact. "i noticed a well of some sort just back of that shack," remarked jack as if he too, shared in this moan over the absence of drinking water. "when we go back we'll try and snatch a drink apiece so as to take the rusty feeling out of our throats. until then we'll have to put up with it, partner." necessity knows no law and so perk was compelled to grin and bear it. just the same, as they were munching their simple fare,--and little of that in the bargain--jack could hear him muttering to himself and chuckling from time to time as though he managed to squeeze more or less pleasure in simply mulling over a multitude of his favorite dishes until one would have imagined it was a waiter in a cheap eating joint down on the bowery enumerating what the house offered for dinner--_a la_ o. henry. later on perk gave signs of being what he called dopey, whereupon jack asked whether he felt inclined to start out again or should it be left to just one of them--meaning himself, of course,--to undertake the further job of spying. "not much you don't monopolize the fun," perk told him point blank. "i'm bound to step along with you even if there'd be a legion o' them rattlebugs lyin' in the trail awaitin' to sting us. when i get started on anything i gen'rally keeps right on with it, even if i have to wade through hell-fire. an' that goes, partner, see?" "i knew you'd say that, brother," jack assured him, seeing perk act as though hurt by the insinuation that anything would tempt him to let his pal meet the danger alone. "if you feel a bit empty down below, just rub your tummy briskly, then pull in your belt a notch or two and it'll make you imagine you're full-up to the brim. i'll be ready to start off inside another ten minutes." jack spent most of this time rummaging around in the locker where he kept his own personal belongings. perk knew when he got out that little but valuable hand flashlight, by means of which they expected to be able to keep on the winding and narrow trail when heading once more toward the lonesome coquina shack on the border of the great inland sea. "but i'm up in the air when it comes to knowin' what else he's stuck in his pockets," perk told himself, though somehow he managed to refrain from asking questions nor did jack seem anxious to enter into any explanations. "we'll leave things here all fixed so as to make a quick take-off," was what the chief pilot remarked as they prepared to step ashore and while he did not see fit to offer any explanation with regard to just what he had in mind, perk felt thrilled to believe there was already some daring plan taking form in his comrade's wide-awake brain that might be carried out if only the conditions seemed favorable, and the weather proved considerate. as they walked slowly along jack kept frequently snapping his light on and off so that they could take an instantaneous inventory of what lay just beyond their feet for the night proved exceedingly dark although all that would be changed after a while, when the late moon climbed into sight. perk, just as he promised himself, had made certain to pick up that serviceable pole with which he had dispatched the rattlesnake and this he kept poking out ahead, as if to stir up any lurking reptile that might be lying coiled in the path. his nervousness increased as they drew near the spot where the one-sided fight had taken place. he had apparently been brooding over the matter, wondering if the mate of his victim could have come upon the scene of the tragedy and sensing what had happened, was lurking thereabouts, bent on exacting a terrible revenge in payment for the untimely demise of her partner. when he felt certain they had passed this particular narrow part of the trail, perk began to breathe easier, but he soon had reason to fear lest he was crowing too soon for just then he felt jack buck up against him and heard him saying in a low but distinct voice: "hold up and listen, partner!" chapter xxiv on hands and knees even while jack was saying those few words, perk had recovered from his sudden alarm, since he already knew the reason for the other's bringing him to a halt. "huh! that crate's startin' off again, seems like," he muttered. indeed, it was a foregone certainty for the splash of water told the story as well as the abrupt explosions of a working motor. then, too, these suggestive sounds all came from directly ahead. then perk had another gripping fear which he imagined must have also seized his companion--that the chief object of their concern might be a passenger aboard that ship, heading once more across the state to miami and that in consequence, all of jack's carefully laid plans would meet the same untimely fate as befalls an ambitious soap-bubble when struck by a stray puff of air. so they continued to stand there and listen to the telltale sounds with sinking hearts. perk in particular seemed to be dreadfully put out by this fresh upset and was grinding his strong teeth as though desirous of letting out an explosive but restrained by the fact of jack being so close at hand. "gee whiz! this here is what i call tough luck, boss," he grumbled, more because he hoped jack might be able to dispel his fit of the blues in some way or other, having a much clearer vision than he himself possessed. "oh! i don't know, partner," said jack in a wholesome, optimistic tone. "it looks a little dark, but just wait a minute or so before you croak--after all, the thing may not be so bad--it doesn't pay to jump at conclusions." "shucks! that's me all over, old hoss, but i'm sure glad to hear you say the last chance ain't snuffed out yet," mumbled perk contritely, but at least he had gained his point which was to coax jack to mix a little good cheer in with the gloom that had descended on his, perk's soul. "there, he's off!" declared jack as a significant change in the clatter so thoroughly understood by any airman announced the hop-off from the surface of the lake. "an' nothin' happened to give him a spill, either," perk went on to say and the disconsolate vein in his tone told plainly enough how he had been secretly hugging to his heart a hope that the motor of the lockheed-vega crate might suddenly develop some fault, compelling the flight to be abandoned in its inception. "even that fact may yet turn out to be the best thing we could wish for," jack told him confidently, being built on the order of a fellow who could see something to rejoice over in nearly every occurrence, no matter how thick the gloom surrounding it. "there he swings up an' is off--a slick jump, b'lieve me an' that guy's some square shooter in the bargain--knows his business okay anyway. but jack, tell me, you don't think he's got our man alongside him, do you?" "well, one thing seems to tell me that isn't a fact, perk." "yeah, an' what might that be?" demanded the other quickly. "notice that he's already banking, so as to lay his course toward cape sable--square in the south--get that, don't you perk?" "i swan, but you're right there, jack--which looks kinder like he didn't mean to strike out for miami, don't it?" "more than likely he's hitting out for cuba, or if he veers to the west, it's mexico or honduras he means to head for." perk heaved a big sigh of relief. "hot ziggetty! but that sounds good to me, partner," he observed with renewed animation as hope again sang a sweet song in his heart. "then there's a real chance he ain't got our man alongside." they stood there and continued to listen as the sounds made by the flight of the retreating seaplane gradually grew fainter and even for brief spells died out altogether. "he's out o' the pictur' anyhow," perk finally commented when they could no longer catch the least thud of the working motor--only a more pleasing sound in the shape of gentle wavelets running up the shore of the great lake being borne to their ears. "yes, and since that's settled we'd better be making a further move ahead," jack was saying, in his sensible way. accordingly the advance was renewed, nor did they take any less precaution because of the departure of the flying boat. as before, jack continued to frequently make good use of his little flashlight, which proved its worth just as had been expected. so speedy were the flashes that it did not seem possible for any one to notice them unless he chanced to be on the watch for something suspicious and jack hardly anticipated such a thing as that. apparently the one who had planned the raid believed there was only one course for them to pursue and that was to keep on as though everything was just as they had hoped. even though an adverse fate chose to cheat them them of their intended prey on this particular occasion there would be other days to come,--and had he not promised to trap his man as well as to procure all needful proof to secure his conviction? they were soon drawing close to their goal--already jack had glimpsed a shred of light gleaming through the intervening brush which proved most conclusively that the shack could not be wholly deserted. "good enough!" perk whispered when this comforting fact had been brought to his attention, "we'll get his goat yet, partner." their progress was slowed up at this point for jack no longer believed it good policy to make use of his flashlight. they had to partly feel their way along, using both hands and feet to detect the presence of any obstacle that was apt to cause them trouble. still, the night was long and there was no desire to make haste--if they waited until those in the shack were apt to be sound asleep it would be much easier to carry out their plan of campaign without any chance of interruption. now they could get faint glimpses of the little cove, which the visiting planes were wont to use as a hiding place, taxiing thither after splashing down on the surface of the nearby lake. perk made a mental note of the fact that the cove was quite empty, no hostile crate bobbing up and down on the water--possibly this induced the dreamer to indulge in a hope that should the occasion warrant such a thing, they might taxi their own ship around and make use of that snug harbor safe from any ordinary gale that chanced to strike treacherous okeechobee. now they could see the light much better and even make out that it came from a certain window of the coquina shack--up to then perk acknowledged to himself that he had not known whether the modest little building boasted of windows or not, having discovered no evidence of their presence. so, too, he now made but a certain dark spot just beyond the shack which he strongly suspected might be the well shed of which the more observant jack had spoken earlier in one of their pow-wows. now that he found himself so near the spot where it seemed likely he could refresh his dry throat with a cup of fresh water, perk was growing wild with the eager desire to be doing so. he wondered whether his companion could have forgotten his promise and even opened his mouth to remind him concerning it but thought better of it for already jack had changed the line of his advance and was beginning to steer his pal in the direction of the well. in order not to take any unnecessary chances it was found that they must make a little detour in order to get past that shaft of light proceeding from the window in the rear of the shack. perk even begrudged the brief time taken in making this half circuit, though recognizing the wisdom governing jack's change of course. he dared not try to whisper now, lest his hoarseness cause him to make a sound so harsh and loud that it might be carried to hostile ears and be the cause of their undoing. then, after another delay when jack imagined he had caught a suspicious little scratching sound, as of something moving, they drew up on hands and knees alongside what seemed to be a rustic shelter covering an opening with a real windlass, rope and all, to fill perk's heart with joy in the belief that his throat was in a fair way of having its roughness relieved in short order. chapter xxv perk demands more water it was queer what chanced to be passing through the mind of jack ralston while they were thus creeping toward the little well in the rear of the lonesome shack on the bank of okeechobee. he had been reading a novel that was supposed to cover the famous and successful attempt on the part of general fred funston to penetrate the mighty wilderness in the north of luzon, the main island of the philippine group and effect the capture of the native rebel chieftain, aguinaldo who, with some of his associates, had taken refuge in a lonely cabin at a most inaccessible point. so vividly had the author described the manner in which the soldier and his companions crept up when making ready to seize their prey, that it was still haunting the mind of the airman and somehow the conditions just then confronting himself and perk seemed to be very similar. he only hoped they would prove to be just as successful in their mission as funston was when he carried aguinaldo back to manila, and thus broke the backbone of the native uprising against the authority of uncle sam. perk was already reaching out toward the bucket he discovered perched on the rocky border of the well. jack could hear him give a chuckle of satisfaction on rinding it half full of water and felt himself a bit tickled to see the way in which his chum proceeded to greedily fill up with the precious liquid. little perk cared if the water chanced to be stale--he had no complaint coming on that score as long as his parched throat and tongue came in for a good soaking and the choking sensation was immediately relieved. perk must have suddenly remembered his lapse of manners, for in the midst of his drinking spree he stopped short and stepped back as though to invite his comrade to take his turn. this jack showed no hesitation in doing, drinking long and with considerable ardor though he knew when to stop, which was what perk did not for no sooner had the other released his hold on the bucket than perk took another turn. in the end jack was compelled to almost drag the other away from the well possibly for fear he burst or else some one come out of the shack and discover them prowling there, unwelcome intruders on oswald kearns' privacy and a positive threat to his peace of mind. it was hardly a time and place for doing any talking, no matter how subdued their voices. jack kept hold of the other's arm and thus started to steer him in the direction of the lighted window. perk must have guessed what his pal had in mind for he made no resistance whatever, just allowed himself to be steered as his comrade wished. stooping down they crawled past, and then closer until they could begin to glimpse the interior of the room where the light was dispelling the darkness. the first thing that struck jack was the fact that the place had been fixed up with an eye to comfort--it looked almost luxurious with its easy chairs and imported rugs that must have cost a considerable sum. evidently oswald kearns had been too long accustomed to comfort to deny himself such luxuries even when seeking seclusion in this out-of-the-way retreat. then jack found himself looking upon the man who had for years been one of the greatest mysteries the treasury department at washington had ever endeavored to trap, he was sitting in a big leather-covered easy-chair, smoking a cigar and busily engaged with a sheaf of important looking papers. from time to time he would refer to a volume that had the appearance of a ledger or account book and to which he seemed to attach great importance. how the sight sent a succession of thrills through the whole being of the secret service sleuth--here he found himself within arms length of the master crook who had laughed to scorn all previous efforts of the government to take him with the goods on. vainly had every possible attempt been made to catch him off his guard; he had proved himself to be too crafty for the best revenue officers put upon his track. and when failure after failure became the rule, the big boss had decided to change the policy they had hitherto followed and put an air pilot on the job as being able to go swiftly and easily where others had been so cleverly balked. then jack began to wonder where the other two men might be, for thus far he had failed to discover either in the room of the lighted window. could it be possible both of them had sailed away aboard that lockheed-vega ship, bent on some important mission which the master had entrusted to their care? he could not bring himself to believe this possible--that he against whom so many hostile hands were raised would be willing to stay all by himself in such a lonesome place unless it seemed unavoidable. one or both of those aids must be somewhere around. just the same he could see no other room connected with the stone building--it was always possible, however, that there might be another shack--perhaps a crude palmetto-leaf hut, such as the poor whites in the backwoods lived in, somewhere not far away that served them for a shelter when it rained or a bustling norther came howling down from the regions of snow and ice and zero temperatures. jack had about reached this conclusion when he discovered a figure, covered with a fancy navajo blanket, on a cot in a corner of the place--yes, there was a head on a sofa pillow such as would be more in place over at the beautiful miami estate than here in such a desolate region. somehow he quickly assumed this must be the shorter party--which would go to prove the other fellow might have accompanied the pilot of the departed airship. when he had decided this to his entire satisfaction, jack was able to figure on certain matters. it undoubtedly meant that he and perk would have just two pitted against them in case things came to a showdown, making it an even fight with victory perching on the side that was quickest at the draw. he seemed to remember every warning he had received in connection with not under-rating this remarkable man, so greedy for excitement that wealthy though he was, he would seek all manner of thrilling adventures just to have the laugh on the government, especially the secret service men toward whom he was said to entertain a feeling of almost wolfish hatred. so too, did jack take note of every object spread before his searching gaze in the shack where oswald kearns seemed to be busying himself in the pleasing occupation of making up his secret accounts. that book, as well as the sheaf of papers rather fascinated the watcher outside the window--somehow jack conceived the idea that there before him was spread all the incriminating evidence needful to bring the erratic career of this amazing man to an abrupt end--to put a stop to the mammoth illegal operations he had so long conducted in secret and by which he had impudently flaunted all the powers in washington, just as though he had sent them a message worded, "well, what are you going to do about it? break up this fine game if you can." if only they were able to get him fast in the net before he could make any attempt to destroy that book and those papers--jack felt convinced a generous fortune had not allowed him to see such a prize only to snatch it out of his reach through fire or some similar means of destruction. but here was perk pulling at his sleeve as though he had a communication of the utmost importance to pass along. accordingly, jack, who himself was ready to effect a change of base so that speedy action might be decided on, moved back from the window. "what is it, perk?" he whispered, at which the other began to make suggestive gestures toward his throat, and nod his head violently. "i c'n feel it comin' on again, partner--the ticklin' feelin' you know, an' i'm afraid i'll start acoughin' to beat the band--must have more drink." it seemed nothing could be done until perk's sensitive throat had been properly attended to, so once more they crept and trailed along until the vicinity of the well had been reached. here perk started to swill, as though his capacity for holding water had no limit. it was just at this particular moment, when both of them were hanging over the well curb that a shaft of light suddenly enveloped them as the back door of the shack opened and the figure of the short man came in sight with a new tin or aluminum bucket in his hand as though his purpose was to get a supply of fresh water. chapter xxvi the fight at the well. "gosh!" perk hissed this one word even as he ducked down behind the well curbing at sight of the figure in the doorway. jack was not a breath behind him, both acting through mere intuition or instinct. whether they had been seen was the important question flashing through the mind of each. there was no sudden outcry which seemed a favorable sign, jack decided and the short, muscular man was even then emerging from the interior of the shack, evidently bent on replenishing the drinking water supply. perk thrust his eager hand into the pocket of his leather jacket to grip his automatic with the idea that he would be needing it before many more seconds had ticked off. in his mind he entertained a comprehensive view of what their plan of action would most likely be--to down this husky chap, either by means of a blow or else a bit of lead delivered where it would do the most good--then a swift rush into the shack and crushing the ex-war veteran before he could fully grasp the meaning of it all. easy enough to figure it out after this manner, but there must be considerable chance that matters would not work so smoothly. for one thing it must be considered that oswald kearns was no weakling, but a more or less athletic figure, accustomed to feats of strength and agility beyond the measure of an ordinary man. then, too, he was known to be irrational, even to the length of being considered dangerous when thoroughly aroused and it went without saying that he must always be well armed for in his reckless way of living he must many times be in close touch with desperate characters, some of whom might conceive it worth while to plot against his liberty, with a heavy ransom in their mind's eye. it was quite too late for either of them to think of slipping off, since the light from the interior of the shack poured through the open door and dissipated the friendly darkness in that especial vicinity. consequently all they could do was to continue to crouch there in the shadow of the well curbing, and await whatever was scheduled to come to pass. if perk had been so eagerly praying for something to breeze along that would give him the thrill he loved so well, his wish seemed well on the road of being realized since everything was set for a dramatic discovery with its attendant speedy action. it was apparent that after all the man could not have glimpsed their vanishing faces as they ducked so swiftly, for he continued to advance in the direction of the well and perk could hear him softly singing, just as though he might be a "musical cuss," as perk told himself with one of his customary chuckles since his first stab of alarm had passed off under the realization that they had another chance. jack, too, was telling himself what a peculiar state of affairs had come upon the stage--here, with an ambush lying in wait before him, this man could step blithely along, swinging his aluminum bucket and softly warbling one of the most recent hits from a comic opera--jack had himself heard the song on the boards of a great metropolitan theatre in new york--had even caught himself whistling the catchy air more than a few times since. the man who seemed to be so well pleased with his fortunes while basking in the favor of the wealthy chief of smugglers had a little surprise waiting for him at the end of his rainbow--if those lurking shadowy figures knew their business and managed it as they should, he would be singing quite a different air before a great while, perhaps interlarding his humming with a choice variety of expletives concerning the cruelty of fate. a few more steps and he would have reached the well--then what must take place? perk was asking himself as he crouched there, his muscles set and his breath coming in little noiseless gasps--he resembled nothing so much as a cat ready poised to make a deadly leap upon a fat robin struggling with a worm that it had pulled halfway out of its hole. there was not one chance in twenty that the man could actually reach the well, drop the bucket down, switch it around in order to induce water to enter and then make use of the windlass so as to draw it to the top, without discovering the presence of those two huddled forms; so perk did not deceive himself in the least with any extravagant hopes of the affair passing off smoothly and their plans being uninterrupted. now the man had set his pail down and was giving the well bucket a switch as though intending to dislodge any stale water it might contain. from this little incident jack understood that undoubtedly the man must himself have left the water they had used up in the bucket when last at the well and subconsciously remembered the fact. he went about the job of lowering the rope with the manner of one quite familiar with the necessary movements, pulling the rope from the barrel of the windlass hand over hand. then there came a splash, a gurgle and following these symptoms of success the man, with a jerk at the rope, managed to sink the bucket. next he started to turn the handle in order to fetch the bucket to the top of the well. in order to get a better purchase on the handle, he took a step to the left, and as luck would have it, struck his knee against the crouching form of perk. then came a quick look downward, since he was naturally curious to know what sort of object he had collided with--possibly he may even have had a sudden suspicion it would turn out to be some native beast from the neighboring swamp--possibly a panther, since such animals had been known to frequent the western shore of okeechobee as a hunting-ground in days gone by. of course he instantly made a startling discovery, since there was enough light to show him the form of a man doubled up against the rocky well curbing. it would have been instinctive for the man to have let out a yell on making this discovery but he did not have the chance to give tongue, at least fully, for perk made a lightning-like spring and had both hands clasped about his throat effectually throttling the intended shout so that it emerged only as a queer sound, rather on the order of a bull alligator's bellowing suddenly cut short. that was but the beginning of the affair as perk knew only too well it must prove to be. he found he had a tough proposition on his hands for the man struggled desperately, as who would not on finding his wind suddenly cut entirely off with a pair of iron-like hands pressing his throat as though it were gripped in a vise? jack sprang up, ready to lend his pal any necessary assistance if only the opportunity showed itself. just then all he could make out in the dim light was a whirling set of wildly struggling figures, looking for all the world like one of those teetotums children delight in spinning--only on an exaggerated scale. then they went down with a crash, first one on top and then the other in rapid succession. it would have made an excellent picture for the silver screen, jack could not help thinking while he drew his automatic and kept tabs on that open door, more than half expecting to see oswald kearns dash wildly out with some sort of machine-gun in his hands, ready to take a chance in the game, knowing that the attack must have everything to do with his own safety. perk seemed to be hanging on with the tenacity of a bulldog, for not another peep did the wolfish man, whose throat he squeezed, give vent to as the slam-bang fight continued. it was lucky indeed there chanced to be a raised wall about the well or in their frantic staggering this way and that the wrestlers might have plunged down into the yawning aperture, much to their mutual discomfiture--as it was they smashed up against the curbing several times, to emit grunts at the rough contact. finally, jack, to his relief, saw perk slam his now weakening adversary to the ground and immediately follow this up by sending in a number of furious blows that took every atom of fight out of the unfortunate chap who collapsed as if wholly done for. perk himself was far from fresh--his breath came in gasps and he must have been trembling in every joint from the tremendous exertion put forth but as always, victory was sweet in his nostrils and after assuring himself that nothing further need be feared from the man he had downed, he struggled to his feet, and ranged himself alongside jack, as if to declare his readiness to fight it out along those lines if it took all night. chapter xxvii at bay jack had been keeping a watchful eye on the nearby shack, not knowing what moment a raging figure might come dashing forth armed with a rapid-fire gun and ready to sweep up the earth with the mangled bodies of himself and perk. somewhat to his surprise, and greatly to his relief as well, nothing of the kind came to pass. suddenly he realized that the door of the squatty little coquina rock building had been closed, for no longer did the light spread a banner out into the black night. "drag him back of the well here, perk," he said softly, "we've got to make certain he'll give us no further trouble. got that piece of stout rope i gave you?" "right here, partner--wrapped around my waist," and as he thus managed to make himself heard, even while so short of breath, perk caught hold of the nearest leg of his late antagonist and without the least ceremony dragged the senseless man several feet just as he might a bag of meal--when head-over-heels in a real scrap perk counted his opponents as so much junk whose fate it was to be handled without ceremony and yet after the row was over, no one could be more solicitous about binding up their hurts than gabe perkiser. "use the rope to fasten his ankles together," advised jack, standing guard meanwhile with his automatic ready for business and his keen eyes roving around in search of signs along the trouble line, "and knot it half a dozen times so it would take a knife blade to get free." "all done up brown and slick, jack old hoss, now what?" announced perk a minute or so later. "clap that new pair of bracelets on his wrists," further explained the head pilot briskly, "and be sure to frisk him for a gat or even a knife. you see, we're going to have our hands full with the boss and can't fool around with this chap any longer." "his name is mud!" scornfully declared perk briskly as he completed his task with the manner of one to whom it had become an old story. the fellow, it seemed, had recovered his senses for he tried to bite perk's hand and received a solid thump on the head for his pains. "so far, good," jack was saying, half to himself. "now let's move along to the house and make sure our bird hasn't skipped out while we were so busy at the well here. got all the drink you want, perk--we can't be coming back every little while just to wet your long neck!" "it's okay with me, boy, let's go," the other announced with a chuckle. leaving their prisoner lying there they started an advance on the shack. both eyed it carefully as they crept along and it was perk who noticed the first favorable sign. "door's shut, partner, but the light's still on--you c'n lamp a streak down near the sill, think he's on deck yet--ain't cut an' run like a blue streak?" "we'll soon find out," jack assured him. "'twouldn't be like a guy with his reputation as a scrapper to clear out so quick. i'm wondering whether he's fixing up some hot reception for us when we break in." "hot ziggetty! that is sure some rummy scrap," perk muttered as he kept close tabs on the shack now close by as though he more than half anticipated seeing it suddenly burst into flames, or go up in fragments under the influence of an explosion. now they had reached the door and jack made a slight effort to open it, but with no success. "no use," he whispered to his kneeling mate, "it's got the bar down in place. listen and see if you can catch a sound from inside." a minute passed with both straining their hearing to the utmost--perk even laid his head against the closed door so as to better catch any suspicious sound from within. "huh! guess they ain't nothin' doin', partner," he hissed in a disappointed tone, "thought i did get a little ruslin' sound, like paper bein' crumpled up when you're a'makin' a fire, but don't hear it no longer." "paper, you say?" snapped jack uneasily, "i don't like that any too much." "why not?" asked the other, evidently at a loss to understand why such a simple little thing like that could annoy any one--what if the man at bay figured on setting fire to the hidden little retreat he had arranged here close to the lonely lake where he could slip away whenever he felt like shunning those society people over at crowded miami--he surely had no intention of cremating himself and they could nab him if he started to make off. "paper--don't you know what he was doing when we peeped in--that book ought to be worth its weight in gold to us as evidence and that stack of papers that he was looking through--if he's given enough time he may put a match to the bunch and destroy everything that could be used against him. we've got to keep him from doing that, brother." "yeah--but how?" gasped the other, showing renewed signs of excitement as he visioned the holocaust with their fine plans going up in fire and smoke just when they seemed about to corral success. jack answered that question by striking the door with his foot, the result being a loud thump. then he caught hold of his chum and dragged him to one side. none too soon was this done, for there came a series of staccato explosions from inside the shack and tiny gleams of light in various sections of the door told that bullets had passed through the wood in a number of places. only for this prompt action on the part of the cautious one, either or both might have had leaden pellets lodged promiscuously about their persons with resultant painful sensations. "wow! that was what i'd call a close shave," whispered the kneeling perk as he surveyed those suspicious holes in the badly riddled door, all on a line with any crouching human figure without. there could no longer be any doubt as to the warlike intentions of the man they had at bay, his fighting spirit, first fed during those bloody days and nights in the argonne, had burst into flame again and he shed his free and easy character as the lord of that wonderful palace at miami to assume the rough and ready type of an adventure-loving smuggler chief, quick to defy all authority while the red blood rioted in his veins. "we've just got to keep him on the jump," jack was saying, "so's to occupy his attention and keep him from putting a match to those papers and that priceless account book with its addresses. here, find a way to get in a smash or two on the door, like we meant to break in--i'll slip around and see what can be done at the window." "jack, i 'member there's a log a'lyin' right over there--why couldn't i use that an' really break through?" "too dangerous, buddy--he'd turn that terror of a machine-gun on and wipe us off the map. do what i'm telling you, only keep back so he can't get you when he shoots again." "just watch my smoke," grunted perk, stooping to feel around for some object that could be made available for the purpose of a door knocker. "wait," he heard the other saying as he was starting to move off. "here's a little pile of rocks--pick up one and toss it on the roof of the shack--make him think we're climbing up, meaning to break in that way--anything to keep him so busy dodging and firing he'll have no time to start that blaze." perk grasped the main idea, which was to fight for time--given even half a chance, he knew his pal would find some way to accomplish the end he had in view which was to take kearns a prisoner with enough positive evidence of his guilt to convict him when placed on trial in a federal court. hastily then did perk scramble for the rocks mentioned by his companion--it was much too dark for him to see where they lay, but he used his common sense with such signal success that almost immediately he found what he sought. to toss up a good-sized rock with such vim that it came down on the roof with a loud bang was the work of a few seconds. hardly had the crash sounded than perk had another missile on its way and as long as the pile held out he meant to keep up a continual fusillade that would have the man inside guessing. chapter xxviii the come-back it was more or less fun for perk to keep up that bombardment as long as he had any ammunition left--the heavy thumps on the roof continued to follow each other, like blasts in a quarry or an admiral's salute when the "old man" took a notion to come aboard. so, too, would each concussion be followed by a spurt of gunfire from behind the closed door of the shack showing that oswald was alive to the situation and must be enjoying his share in the strange engagement quite as much as the fun-loving perk did his part. if the little rock pile held out and there were enough ammunition belts for the machine-gun handy, the chances were that the roof of the bungalow would assume the nature of a sieve and leak when the next heavy rain storm set in. perk was fully aroused now, and awake to his part of the bombardment--his mind began to figure just what other means lay within his reach to continue engaging the attention of the rat in the trap after the last rock had been fired. some of them he knew had rolled off the slightly sloping roof after accomplishing their duty. if only he could lay hands on them they might be made to serve again but the darkness would make this problematical. there was that log he had mentioned to jack--with it he fancied he might do something to keep up the feverish interest in the game and hold oswald's undivided attention. what added more or less to the thrill he was enjoying was the fact that at any minute the ready marksman inside might succeed in reaching him with a bullet fired at some new angle. jack had told him how kearns was said to be quite a wizard at making bullseyes in a flying target either with a pistol or a rifle. he was still going heavy although nearing the end of his ammunition, when something not on the calendar came along, something so unexpected that perk was taken quite by surprise. a weighty and metallic object struck him on the head with such violence that he saw a million stars all at once, as though a myriad of rockets had exploded simultaneously high in the air. he went down like a stone, his senses reeling under that frightful impact and yet half conscious of the fact that some one must have come up behind him in the darkness and struck him with a heavy weight. now he could feel hands groping about his person as though seeking to find where to follow up that first blow with another that would effectually wind up his career for keeps. rendered desperate by the nature of his situation perk threw up both hands and chancing to come in contact with a human form, closed in with what might almost be called a death grip--his one object being to thus hold the unseen enemy close and prevent him giving a second blow that would be in the nature of a knockout. he met with fierce resistance, but no matter how desperately the other struggled and fought he was unable to break perk's terrible hold, so like that of a fighting bulldog, once its teeth have closed for keeps. there the two antagonists rolled to and fro, striving in turn to get on top, only to be over-turned in rotation. what made it all the more exciting was the fact that the man in the shack, hearing all those queer noises, must imagine his enemies were trying to burrow under the door for he kept up frequent furious bursts of gunfire and at any moment an unlucky roll was apt to bring the wrestlers within range of the hail of bullets. one thing favored perk--he was by degrees getting over the deadening sensation following that frightful blow on his head--apparently the other was weakening in the same proportion that perk was gaining strength, showing that he must have been in anything but prime condition when the tussle started. it was this potent fact that gave perk his first inkling as to the identity of the man with whom he struggled. at first he took it for granted the fellow was the tall confederate they had noticed with kearns during the late afternoon, and who had perhaps been away and returned to the shack just at this interesting moment to find it in a state of siege. he had hardly begun to get an inkling as to the true state of affairs when one of his hands, in seeking to get a firmer hold, chanced to come in contact with something cold and hard. then he understood just why his antagonist seemed to be so handicapped in the scramble--he could stretch his hands apart only so far--they were apparently held fast in some mysterious fashion. it burst upon perk like a bomb from a sky chaser--why, after all this was an old friend of his, one whom he had only recently been hugging with all his might and main--in fact no other than the short confederate of kearns whom they had left beside the well but a brief time previously. in some manner, which was a complete mystery to perk, he had managed to get his legs free from that binding rope which had been wound around and around his ankles in many coils and then knotted half a dozen times. perk found it hard to realize this puzzling fact, but just the same he knew it must be the truth. he proceeded to continue his rolling process with additional vim, partly because he now knew the other could not get a chance to whack him again with both hands handcuffed--for that was what had actually occurred and it proved his first surmise--that hard metal had come in contact with his cranium. presently it came about that perk was enabled to clutch the throat of his antagonist and for the second time close his fingers on his larynx, shutting off his wind completely and causing history to repeat itself. the fellow gave up immediately, thus hoping perk would diminish that paralyzing grip which the other condescended to do. when this had been carried through perk made up his mind not to trust to a rope again--in the first place he had no rope and even if this were not the case he had for the time being lost all confidence in ropes as restraining agents. he remembered he had a second pair of steel bracelets in one of his pockets, having fetched two pair along with the idea they might have to include some pal of kearns' before finishing their job. he quickly had the fellow lying inert and acting as though he did not have another bit of fight left in him. managing to pull out the handcuffs, perk first tested them for size, and finding he could snap them shut after circling the ankles of his prisoner he did so with a vim. this would effectually prevent the man from getting any distance away, since he could move his feet only a few inches at a time at the best. perk struggled to his feet, feeling more or less dizzy. his first natural act was to put a hand to his head, and feel it gently, in order to ascertain the character and extent of his injuries. there was a cruel lump on his crown and he knew blood was streaking his face but on the whole he did not believe he was very badly hurt--perhaps after the double beating the other fellow had received at his hands he was worse off than perk--an idea that started the latter chuckling, even if the act caused him a sudden dart of pain that made him wince. then he remembered what was going on, knowledge of which had been knocked out of his head by the unexpected fight that had taken place. how about jack? he dimly remembered hearing further shots from behind the barrier, although unable to decide whether the bullets continued to break through close to the bottom of the door or otherwise. could this later fire have been directed at jack, who had unwisely exposed himself at the side window? perk was strongly tempted to disobey orders and hasten around the corner in order to learn the worst. if that daredevil inside had hurt his pal he would be mad enough to find some way of blowing up the shack and the gas-mad ex-soldier along with it, regardless of consequences. he only waited long enough to run his swollen hands over the recumbent figure of the man in irons so as to make sure he could not play the same mean trick a second time. finding everything fast, he turned away from the scene of his recent ruction, and hurried around the corner of the shack, bent on backing up jack or, in case his pal had been placed out of the running, to avenge his injuries without delay. chapter xxix a last resort meanwhile how fared jack in his share of the attempt to corner the defiant and persistent law-breaker? he had crept around the corner after leaving his chum, fully convinced that some sort of heroic measures must be brought to bear on the ugly situation if they hoped to succeed. one thing had already been amply proved--this was the unmistakable fact that oswald kearns must be having one of his occasional brain sprees, the result of his wartime gassing when he was apt to tip over his balance and for the time being imagine himself beset by a myriad of bitter foes whom it was his duty, as well as privilege, to mow down, regardless of everything. acting under this delusion he was doubtless resting under the belief that these were hun machine-gun squads secreted in nests in the argonne and that he was duly recruited by heaven to round them up, disseminate their number, and fetch a goodly bunch into the american lines as prisoners of war. his readiness to shatter the door of his own lodge was evidence of his obsession, jack firmly believed and from which he deduced the opinion that as long as his equipment held out he was ready to keep up that hot bombardment under the belief that the enemy were falling like dead leaves in the frosts of late fall. this being the case, jack understood how exceedingly careful he must be not to expose even the tip of his nose, since everybody said oswald was a most wonderful hand with firearms. no sooner had he turned the corner of the rock shack than he made a discovery that gave him some satisfaction. at least the man inside had not considered it necessary that he extinguish the lamp for there was a certain amount of light coming from the window--only tiny lances, showing that some sort of shade had been drawn down as far as it would come. so jack crawled hastily forward, bent on taking a peep if it could be accomplished without too much risk. having gained a position directly under the window, he considered just how he must go about it and so discovered that a plant of some sort--perhaps a young orange tree, was growing alongside the shack. taking hold of a sprig, he gently moved it across a portion of the opening and on finding it attracted no attention from within he next pushed his head up with the bunch of green foliage. this resulted in giving him a quick survey of the interior--he could see what had come before his vision on his previous survey but at first he failed to discover any human presence. the fact gave him a feeling of chagrin, under the impression that kearns might in some mysterious way have been able to quit the rock house without being discovered and that they had been outwitted. in that brief period of time jack seemed to glimpse all manner of strange tunnels leading from the secret retreat of the smuggler to certain exits back in the pine woods, craftily constructed for just such an emergency as had now come to pass. then he suddenly changed his mind on realizing how next to impossible it would have been to construct such underground exits when the near presence of great okeechobee would make digging quite out of the question, since water must of necessity seep into any such passage and fill it full. jack, looking further, had just managed to discover a leg that was thrust into view when perk's first rock crashed on the roof, making a terrific noise. following this came a burst of gunfire with the acrid powder-smoke filling the room and making seeing next to impossible. jack crouched down to do a little thinking as well as listen to the exchange of compliments between the warring forces--every loud detonation as a lump of coquina rock fell on the roof would be followed by its complement of rapid gunfire, just as though the man at bay was bound to keep up his side of the battle even if he had to create a shortage in his ammunition supply. it was fierce work, yet bordering on the ludicrous, jack told himself, meanwhile wondering just how long perk's heap of missiles would persist, also what was bound to happen when the rock pile was gone. doubtless the near-demented man inside must be working up to a feverish pitch under the impression that he was specially designed by providence to annihilate the whole german army and open a clear path to an allied march all the way to berlin! then silence came--a silence that seemed to brood over the scene of hostilities as might a sea fog drifting in along the coast and baffling the most skillful of flyers. jack had discovered a stick that was some three feet in length and remembering an old and often tried trick known to frontiersmen away back in the kentucky days of daniel boone, he meant to try it out in order to see if the ammunition of the besieged man had run out on him or not--something that was really essential he should know before proceeding to extremes and breaking into the fortress that was holding himself and perk so persistently at bay. removing his leather cap with its dangling earlaps, he perched it on the point of his stick and proceeded to elevate the contrivance so that it might be seen by the vigilant eyes within. the result was all that he could have asked, showing that this venerable indian trick was just as workable as in the days of old. a single shot sounded dully within the shack--there was a tinkling sound as if a speeding bullet had bored a hole through a pane of glass and down fell his helmet. jack picked it up and chuckled to find he could poke an investigating finger through a hole that had certainly not been there before. what great luck his head had not been inside that helmet, he was telling himself on thus learning the wonderful accuracy of the marksman. things were again at a standstill, for as long as the half demented kearns was able to make such excellent use of his firearm it would be suicide for either of them to try and break into the shack. one thing jack had managed to discover with that brief peep back of the friendly bunch of orange leaves--there was a little heap of papers in the fireplace, also the precious book he yearned to possess--yes, and he could even make out a smudge as though a match had been used to start a conflagration but owing to some puff of contrary air the blaze had fizzled and gone out--an especially providential favor in their behalf jack had told himself. still, at any moment now the man with the crooked mind was apt to notice how his purpose had been baffled. then he would make a second and possibly more successful attempt to destroy all incriminating evidence as to his connection with the smuggling of rum, aliens and precious stones into the country, contrary to the laws of the land. what could he do should this crisis come upon him, jack was asking himself as he crouched there and counted the minutes passing by? there was only one means for counteracting such a move on the part of the enemy and jack had already convinced himself the occasion was fully ripe for it to be tried out. on a previous occasion the same thing had handily proved its efficacy, so why not again? desperate cases require desperate remedies, he kept telling himself as he groped in his pocket and extracted some small object therefrom, holding it tightly clinched while he again moved the orange leaves across the lower part of the window without extracting a shot from the guardian of the shack. then he nerved himself to take a look and received a shock for he was just in time to see kearns down on his knees striking a match which he hastened to apply to the crumpled papers. seeing there was not a second to waste, jack proceeded to hurl the tear-bomb he had been holding in his fist straight through the glass, so as to strike against the stone chimney and be shattered, releasing its powerful contents that would almost instantly fill the room and blind the man whose fingers held the burning match. chapter xxx fetching in their man there was now no further need for caution. jack saw the man inside stagger to his feet, drop his gun and throw both hands up to his face--he was starting to rub his eyes as though they had already commenced to feel the terrible effect of the pungent acid that would start the tears flowing in streams and render him temporarily blind before he could exercise his brain sufficiently to unbar the door and rush outside. but already that tiny blaze on the open hearth was increasing, and would presently gain such headway as to threaten the utter destruction of the precious papers that they had come so far and braved all sorts of dangers to get. something must be done instantly in order to prevent this threatening catastrophe. so jack, always quick to act, with one smashing blow sent the entire window sash flying into the room. he did not even stop to learn whether he had cut himself, but gave an upward spring, gained a precarious knee-hold on the window-sill and allowed himself to fall inside the room with its unseen gas contents which would of necessity act upon his eyes even as it already had done in the case of his intended prey. across to the fireplace went jack--he could never tell just how he made that trip of a dozen feet with his sight already growing dim and his senses commencing to reel, but he knew that he started to stamp out every atom of those greedy flames, working like one possessed. then he clutched the reeling man by the arm and dragged him across to the window and bundled him out with as little ceremony as if he had been a sack of oats. blinded himself by this time and hardly knowing what he was doing, jack managed to climb through the opening and drop down on top of the writhing figure on the ground. here perk found them both as he came full tilt around the corner, realizing something not down on the bills as far as his knowledge went, must have taken place. "jack--what's happened--are you bad hurt, buddy?" perk demanded excitedly as he bent down over his chum. "all right--only had to use the tear-gas again--be better right off--don't let kearns get away on your life!" "hot ziggetty! you jest bet i won't old hoss!" whooped the delighted perk as he squatted alongside the still writhing oswald, his automatic held in readiness only waiting for jack to recover enough to take things in charge. "look in the room--see if the papers are safe--in the fireplace--he started to burn the whole batch and beat us to the scratch--had to give him the whole works to save 'em!" thus enlightened, perk stood up and took a look then burst out in a joyous shout that would have done credit to any cow-puncher on earth. "it's all dandy, jack--papers safe an' we got our man ditto. mebbe now i'll soon get a chance to treat my tummy to some decent grub, 'cause my ribs're stickin' to my backbone, i'm that empty." before long jack's eyes ceased to sting and his vision once more became almost normal. by then, too, kearns had come to his senses, with perk keeping him subdued by means of prodding a weapon in his ribs. jack hunted around and found some rope with which they temporarily bound the arms and ankles of their prisoner. that accomplished he made haste to secure all the papers as well as the ledger which kearns had been so eager to destroy when realizing that at last his scorn for the minions of the law had reaped its inevitable result--the pitcher gone once too often to the well--and that his game was up. "what next, boss?" perk was asking, "mean to kidnap both o' these guys jack?" "it'll make our chances better with one showing a yellow streak and turning on his employer for state's evidence," was jack's quick rejoinder, the idea being quite to perk's liking as he speedily made manifest. "jumpin' jimcracks! we c'n tote the pair right nifty an' i'm meanin' to see that other guy gets all that's comin' to him, after that nasty crack on the coco he gimme with them irons. say jack, take a look at my head an' see if it's sound still--gee whiz! but it felt like the sky'd gone an' dropped down on me." jack speedily reassured him that although there was a lovely lump on the top of his head, it was nothing very serious. it was understood that there was not a minute to waste if they were wise. the lockheed-vega might blow in any time and give them trouble. "we'll get both the prisoners together and perk, you stand guard over them while i taxi our boat around here so as to save ourselves the job of moving them along the trail. is it all right with you, buddy?" "sure is," came the ready reply. "i'll start a little chin with our honorable guest here an' see how he likes the idee o' sittin' up next mr. philip ridgeway o' the treasury department an' findin' out that this time he's in the soup for keeps." already the prisoner had recovered his customary nerve for on hearing what perk was saying he broke out in a laugh. "looks a bit serious for me, i own up, boys," he said. "i give you credit for being ace high above all your class, for you've played a clever game and beat me by a mile. so that was tear-gas you tossed into the room, was it?--thought i recognized the smell and i want to tell you, once that hits a chap's eyes and he doesn't care if a church steeple topples down on him, he's that paralyzed." jack lost no time in starting back to where the ship was hidden and having negotiated the distance along the perilous trail without running afoul of anything, he managed to toss the palmetto leaves overboard since there was no further necessity for camouflage. after coaxing his charge out of the narrow slip, and once on the open lake, he taxied down to the cove close to the coquina rock shack. they managed to lug their prisoners aboard and stowed them away as well as circumstances permitted. then jack gave her the gun and they were off. once they found themselves on their way at a three thousand-foot ceiling and headed almost due northwest with tampa as their goal, perk slapped his pal on the back and gave vent to his high spirits. "oh how joyful it does seem, partner," he was saying, "to be startin' on the home stretch with our game played to a finish, the ducks bagged an' nigh ready for the spit. somethin' to crow about this time, i guess boy. mebbe the big boss up at washington ain't goin' to be tickled pink when he gets the news an' knows we've grabbed oswald by the heels with evidence aplenty to send him to atlanta for a term o' years. this night flight promises to be the happiest ever for the pair o' us. i know i'm actin' like a loon, partner, but i jest can't help it--such bully occasions are too few an' far between in our line. an' now i wonder where we'll be sent for the next big job we tackle?" "we'll know all that soon enough perk," he was told by his comrade. "we deserve a little rest after this business is cleaned up, then we'll be ready to start out fresh and dandy, no matter if it takes us to the wild west this time." "huh! why not?" grunted perk with the air of one who was utterly indifferent as to whether he was given a mission that would take him to the other side of the world, as long as he had at his side the pal whom he loved so well and the backing of the government to stand for expenses. "we've worked the mexican border to the limit, have jest cleaned up the worst smugglin' bunch along the florida coast an' when the call comes for us to take a fling over the colorado canyon, or above the snow capped mountain ranges, it'll find us ready an' all to the good!" although at the time perk had not the slightest idea that he was posing as a prophet, it will be seen that such was the case as the title of the next story in this series will indicate, it being "_wings over the rockies; or jack ralston's new cloud-chaser._" the end every boy's mystery series air monster by edwin green "lines away!" this is a story of the world's greatest dirigible and of the dangers in the frozen wastes of the arctic--a combination sure to provide thrills for every reader. the _goliath_, largest dirigible in the world, is to meet the submarine _neptune_ at the north pole. the _neptune_ encounters one mishap after another in the drifting ice of the arctic and harry curtis, its radio operator, sends an s. o. s. to andy high, assistant commander of the _goliath_. the dirigible starts north, captain harkins, the commander. is stricken and andy takes charge of the rescue attempt. secret flight by edwin green andy high and his companions on the trail of new adventure in the mighty _goliath_ ... international intrigue and a world crisis form the background for this strong and stirring tale for air-minded boys. this book is a fitting sequel to that splendid book "air monster." extra by george morse baffling mystery, startling disappearances, roaring presses, the tenseness of the deadline hour on great newspapers--all these and more are in "extra." when the publisher of the _porter press_ disappears from an airplane while it is en route between two cities, don durian, young managing editor of the _press_, starts out to get the story and solve the mystery. thwarted at every turn, don and his staff are enveloped in an intrigue that threatens to destroy even their own paper. it's a mystery within a mystery and the solution is startling. circus dan by george morse call of the calliope.... clash of cymbals and flash of spangles under the big top. but back of the glitter is the rivalry of two big circuses.... a fortune hangs in the balance when young dan tierney, press agent for the great united, solves the mystery of the accidents which have threatened the existence of the big show. vanishing liner by george morse _the vanishing liner_ moves rapidly, abounds in pulse-quickening action, weaves the threads of half a dozen adventures through the luxurious cabins of the atlantica, and ends with a stirring climax of adventure on the high sea. the treasure hunt of the s- by graham m. dean graham m. dean, the author of the tim murphy series, received so many requests from his hundreds of thousands of readers, to take tim murphy on a "real treasure hunt," that in this book tim murphy is given the assignment by the editor of the "atkinson news" to accompany a treasure-hunting expedition headed by a world-famous globe trotter. this is an action story from start to finish--clean, fast, and inspiring. it is a different story and is bound to appeal, with all the resourcefulness of the now famous tim murphy tested to the utmost. the goldsmith publishing company, chicago vanishing liner by george morse high adventure on the north atlantic ... a mystery of ships that vanish in mid-ocean. the world is alarmed by the disappearance of ships in the north atlantic and the great northern transportation company, which has lost two vessels, is determined to solve the mystery. the great northern company has plans to build the two fastest liners afloat and a rival company is suspected of the mysterious attacks. in command of the expedition which sets out to solve the mystery is prof. randolph pearson, eminent scientist. he sets up a complete laboratory aboard the atlantica, crack liner of the great northern. with him are his assistants, bob ellis and glenn heath. their task is to stay aboard the liner on its transoceanic dashes for they are confident that an attempt will be made on the atlantica. _the vanishing liner_ moves rapidly, abounds in pulse-quickening action, weaves the threads of half a dozen adventures through the luxurious cabins of the atlantica, and ends with a stirring climax of adventure on the high sea. [illustration] the people of the crater _a complete novelette_ by andrew north _"send the black throne to dust; conquer the black ones, and bring the daughter from the caves of darkness." these were the tasks garin must perform to fulfill the prophecy of the ancient ones--and establish his own destiny in this hidden land!_ _chapter one_ _through the blue haze_ six months and three days after the peace of shanghai was signed and the great war of - declared at an end by an exhausted world, a young man huddled on a park bench in new york, staring miserably at the gravel beneath his badly worn shoes. he had been trained to fill the pilot's seat in the control cabin of a fighting plane and for nothing else. the search for a niche in civilian life had cost him both health and ambition. a newcomer dropped down on the other end of the bench. the flyer studied him bitterly. _he_ had decent shoes, a warm coat, and that air of satisfaction with the world which is the result of economic security. although he was well into middle age, the man had a compact grace of movement and an air of alertness. "aren't you captain garin featherstone?" startled, the flyer nodded dumbly. from a plump billfold the man drew a clipping and waved it toward his seat mate. two years before, captain garin featherstone of the united democratic forces had led a perilous bombing raid into the wilds of siberia to wipe out the vast expeditionary army secretly gathering there. it had been a spectacular affair and had brought the survivors some fleeting fame. "you're the sort of chap i've been looking for," the stranger folded the clipping again, "a flyer with courage, initiative and brains. the man who led that raid is worth investing in." "what's the proposition?" asked featherstone wearily. he no longer believed in luck. "i'm gregory farson," the other returned as if that should answer the question. "the antarctic man!" "just so. as you have probably heard, i was halted on the eve of my last expedition by the sudden spread of war to this country. now i am preparing to sail south again." "but i don't see--" "how you can help me? very simple, captain featherstone. i need pilots. unfortunately the war has disposed of most of them. i'm lucky to contact one such as yourself--" * * * * * and it was as simple as that. but garin didn't really believe that it was more than a dream until they touched the glacial shores of the polar continent some months later. as they brought ashore the three large planes, he began to wonder at the driving motive behind farson's vague plans. when the supply ship sailed, not to return for a year, farson called them together. three of the company were pilots, all war veterans, and two were engineers who spent most of their waking hours engrossed in the maps farson produced. * * * * * "tomorrow," the leader glanced from face to face, "we start inland. here--" on a map spread before him he indicated a line marked in purple. "ten years ago i was a member of the verdane expedition. once, when flying due south, our plane was caught by some freakish air current and drawn off its course. when we were totally off our map, we saw in the distance a thick bluish haze. it seemed to rise in a straight line from the ice plain to the sky. unfortunately our fuel was low and we dared not risk a closer investigation. so we fought our way back to the base. "verdane, however, had little interest in our report and we did not investigate it. three years ago that kattack expedition, hunting oil deposits by the order of the dictator, reported seeing the same haze. this time we are going to explore it!" "why," garin asked curiously, "are you so eager to penetrate this haze?--i gather that's what we're to do--" farson hesitated before answering. "it has often been suggested that beneath the ice sheeting of this continent may be hidden mineral wealth. i believe that the haze is caused by some form of volcanic activity, and perhaps a break in the crust." garin frowned at the map. he wasn't so sure about that explanation, but farson was paying the bills. the flyer shrugged away his uneasiness. much could be forgiven a man who allowed one to eat regularly again. four days later they set out. helmly, one of the engineers, rawlson, a pilot, and farson occupied the first plane. the other engineer and pilot were in the second and garin, with the extra supplies, was alone in the third. he was content to be alone as they took off across the blue-white waste. his ship, because of its load, was loggy, so he did not attempt to follow the other two into the higher lane. they were in communication by radio and garin, as he snapped on his earphones, remembered something farson had said that morning: "the haze affects radio. on our trip near it the static was very bad. almost," with a laugh, "like speech in some foreign tongue." as they roared over the ice garin wondered if it might have been speech--from, perhaps, a secret enemy expedition, such as the kattack one. in his sealed cockpit he did not feel the bite of the frost and the ship rode smoothly. with a little sigh of content he settled back against the cushions, keeping to the course set by the planes ahead and above him. some five hours after they left the base, garin caught sight of a dark shadow far ahead. at the same time farson's voice chattered in his earphones. "that's it. set course straight ahead." the shadow grew until it became a wall of purple-blue from earth to sky. the first plane was quite close to it, diving down into the vapor. suddenly the ship rocked violently and swung earthward as if out of control. then it straightened and turned back. garin could hear farson demanding to know what was the matter. but from the first plane there was no reply. as farson's plane kept going garin throttled down. the actions of the first ship indicated trouble. what if that haze were a toxic gas? "close up, featherstone!" barked farson suddenly. he obediently drew ahead until they flew wing to wing. the haze was just before them and now garin could see movement in it, oily, impenetrable billows. the motors bit into it. there was clammy, foggy moisture on the windows. abruptly garin sensed that he was no longer alone. somewhere in the empty cabin behind him was another intelligence, a measuring power. he fought furiously against it--against the very idea of it. but, after a long, terrifying moment while it seemed to study him, it took control. his hands and feet still manipulated the ship, but _it_ flew! on the ship hurtled through the thickening mist. he lost sight of farson's plane. and, though he was still fighting against the will which over-rode his, his struggles grew weaker. then came the order to dive into the dark heart of the purple mists. * * * * * down they whirled. once, as the haze opened, garin caught a glimpse of tortured gray rock seamed with yellow. farson had been right: here the ice crust was broken. down and down. if his instruments were correct the plane was below sea level now. the haze thinned and was gone. below spread a plain cloaked in vivid green. here and there reared clumps of what might be trees. he saw, too, the waters of a yellow stream. but there was something terrifyingly alien about that landscape. even as he circled above it, garin wrested to break the grip of the will that had brought him there. there came a crackle of sound in his earphones and at that moment the presence withdrew. the nose of the plane went up in obedience to his own desire. frantically he climbed away from the green land. again the haze absorbed him. he watched the moisture bead on the windows. another hundred feet or so and he would be free of it--and that unbelievable world beneath. then, with an ominous sputter, the port engine conked out. the plane lurched and slipped into a dive. down it whirled again into the steady light of the green land. trees came out of the ground, huge fern-like plants with crimson scaled trunks. toward a clump of these the plane swooped. frantically garin fought the controls. the ship steadied, the dive became a fast glide. he looked for an open space to land. then he felt the landing gear scrape some surface. directly ahead loomed one of the fern trees. the plane sped toward the long fronds. there came a ripping crash, the splintering of metal and wood. the scarlet cloud gathering before garin's eyes turned black. _chapter two_ _the folk of tav_ garin returned to consciousness through a red mist of pain. he was pinned in the crumpled mass of metal which had once been the cabin. through a rent in the wall close to his head thrust a long spike of green, shredded leaves still clinging to it. he lay and watched it, not daring to move lest the pain prove more than he could bear. it was then that he heard the pattering sound outside. it seemed as if soft hands were pushing and pulling at the wreck. the tree branch shook and a portion of the cabin wall dropped away with a clang. garin turned his head slowly. through the aperture was clambering a goblin figure. it stood about five feet tall, and it walked upon its hind legs in human fashion, but the legs were short and stumpy, ending in feet with five toes of equal length. slender, shapely arms possessed small hands with only four digits. the creature had a high, well-rounded forehead but no chin, the face being distinctly lizard-like in contour. the skin was a dull black, with a velvety surface. about its loins it wore a short kilt of metallic cloth, the garment being supported by a jeweled belt of exquisite workmanship. for a long moment the apparition eyed garin. and it was those golden eyes, fixed unwinkingly on his, which banished the flyer's fear. there was nothing but great pity in their depths. the lizard-man stooped and brushed the sweat-dampened hair from garin's forehead. then he fingered the bonds of metal which held the flyer, as if estimating their strength. having done so, he turned to the opening and apparently gave an order, returning again to squat by garin. two more of his kind appeared to tear away the ruins of the cockpit. though they were very careful, garin fainted twice before they had freed him. he was placed on a litter swung between two clumsy beasts which might have been small elephants, except that they lacked trunks and possessed four tusks each. they crossed the plain to the towering mouth of a huge cavern where the litter was taken up by four of the lizard-folk. the flyer lay staring up at the roof of the cavern. in the black stone had been carved fronds and flowers in bewildering profusion. shining motes, giving off faint light, sifted through the air. at times as they advanced, these gathered in clusters and the light grew brighter. midway down a long corridor the bearers halted while their leader pulled upon a knob on the wall. an oval door swung back and the party passed through. they came into a round room, the walls of which had been fashioned of creamy quartz veined with violet. at the highest point in the ceiling a large globe of the motes hung, furnishing soft light below. two lizard-men, clad in long robes, conferred with the leader of the flyer's party before coming to stand over garin. one of the robed ones shook his head at the sight of the flyer's twisted body and waved the litter on into an inner chamber. here the walls were dull blue and in the exact center was a long block of quartz. by this the litter was put down and the bearers disappeared. with sharp knives the robed men cut away furs and leather to expose garin's broken body. they lifted him to the quartz table and there made him fast with metal bonds. then one of them went to the wall and pulled a gleaming rod. from the dome of the roof shot an eerie blue light to beat upon garin's helpless body. there followed a tingling through every muscle and joint, a prickling sensation in his skin, but soon his pain vanished as if it had never been. the light flashed off and the three lizard-men gathered around him. he was wrapped in a soft robe and carried to another room. this, too, was circular, shaped like the half of a giant bubble. the floor sloped toward the center where there was a depression filled with cushions. there they laid garin. at the top of the bubble, a pinkish cloud formed. he watched it drowsily until he fell asleep. something warm stirred against his bare shoulder. he opened his eyes, for a moment unable to remember where he was. then there was a plucking at the robe twisted about him and he looked down. [illustration] if the lizard-folk had been goblin in their grotesqueness this visitor was elfin. it was about three feet high, its monkey-like body completely covered with silky white hair. the tiny hands were human in shape and hairless, but its feet were much like a cat's paws. from either side of the small round head branched large fan-shaped ears. the face was furred and boasted stiff cat whiskers on the upper lip. these _anas_, as garin learned later, were happy little creatures, each one choosing some mistress or master among the folk, as this one had come to him. they were content to follow their big protector, speechless with delight at trifling gifts. loyal and brave, they could do simple tasks or carry written messages for their chosen friend, and they remained with him until death. they were neither beast nor human, but rumored to be the result of some experiment carried out eons ago by the ancient ones. after patting garin's shoulder the ana touched the flyer's hair wonderingly, comparing the bronze lengths with its own white fur. since the folk were hairless, hair was a strange sight in the caverns. with a contented purr, it rubbed its head against his hand. with a sudden click a door in the wall opened. the ana got to its feet and ran to greet the newcomers. the chieftain of the folk, he who had first discovered garin, entered, followed by several of his fellows. the flyer sat up. not only was the pain gone but he felt stronger and younger than he had for weary months. exultingly, he stretched wide his arms and grinned at the lizard-being who murmured happily in return. lizard-men busied themselves about garin, girding on him the short kilt and jewel-set belt which were the only clothing of the caverns. when they were finished, the chieftain took his hand and drew him to the door. they traversed a hallway whose walls were carved and inlaid with glittering stones and metalwork, coming, at last, into a huge cavern, the outer walls of which were hidden by shadows. on a dais stood three tall thrones and garin was conducted to the foot of these. the highest throne was of rose crystal. on its right was one of green jade, worn smooth by centuries of time. at the left was the third, carved of a single block of jet. the rose throne and that of jet were unoccupied, but in the seat of jade reposed one of the folk. he was taller than his fellows, and in his eyes, as he stared at garin, was wisdom--and a brooding sadness. "it is well!" the words resounded in the flyer's head. "we have chosen wisely. this youth is fit to mate with the daughter. but he will be tried, as fire tries metal. he must win the daughter forth and strive with kepta--" a hissing murmur echoed through the hall. garin guessed that hundreds of the folk must be gathered there. "urg!" the being on the throne commanded. the chieftain moved a step toward the dais. "do you take this youth and instruct him. and then will i speak with him again. for--" sadness colored the words now--"we would have the rose throne filled again and the black one blasted into dust. time moves swiftly." the chieftain led a wondering garin away. _chapter three_ _garin hears of the black ones_ urg brought the flyer into one of the bubble-shaped rooms which contained a low, cushioned bench facing a metal screen--and here they seated themselves. what followed was a language lesson. on the screen appeared objects which urg would name, to have his sibilant uttering repeated by garin. as the american later learned, the ray treatment he had undergone had quickened his mental powers, and in an incredibly short time he had a working vocabulary. judging by the pictures the lizard folk were the rulers of the crater world, although there were other forms of life there. the elephant-like _tand_ was a beast of burden, the squirrel-like _eron_ lived underground and carried on a crude agriculture in small clearings, coming shyly twice a year to exchange grain for a liquid rubber produced by the folk. then there was the _gibi_, a monstrous bee, also friendly to the lizard people. it supplied the cavern dwellers with wax, and in return the folk gave the gibi colonies shelter during the unhealthful times of the great mists. highly civilized were the folk. they did no work by hand, except the finer kinds of jewel setting and carving. machines wove their metal cloth, machines prepared their food, harvested their fields, hollowed out new dwellings. freed from manual labor they had turned to acquiring knowledge. urg projected on the screen pictures of vast laboratories and great libraries of scientific lore. but all they knew in the beginning, they had learned from the ancient ones, a race unlike themselves, which had preceded them in sovereignty over _tav_. even the folk themselves were the result of constant forced evolution and experimentation carried on by these ancient ones. all this wisdom was guarded most carefully, but against what or whom, urg could not tell, although he insisted that the danger was very real. there was something within the blue wall of the crater which disputed the folk's rule. as garin tried to probe further a gong sounded. urg arose. "it is the hour of eating," he announced. "let us go." they came to a large room where a heavy table of white stone stretched along three walls, benches before it. urg seated himself and pressed a knob on the table, motioning garin to do likewise. the wall facing them opened and two trays slid out. there was a platter of hot meat covered with rich sauce, a stone bowl of grain porridge and a cluster of fruit, still fastened to a leafy branch. this the ana eyed so wistfully that garin gave it to the creature. the folk ate silently and arose quietly when they had finished, their trays vanishing back through the wall. garin noticed only males in the room and recalled that he had, as yet, seen no females among the folk. he ventured a question. urg chuckled. "so, you think there are no women in the caverns? well, we shall go to the hall of women that you may see." to the hall of women they went. it was breath-taking in its richness, stones worth a nation's ransom sparkling from its domed roof and painted walls. here were the matrons and maidens of the folk, their black forms veiled in robes of silver net, each cross strand of which was set with a tiny gem, so that they appeared to be wrapped in glittering scales. there were not many of them--a hundred perhaps. and a few led by the hand smaller editions of themselves, who stared at garin with round yellow eyes and chewed black fingertips shyly. the women were intrusted with the finest jewel work, and with pride they showed the stranger their handiwork. at the far end of the hall was a wonderous thing in the making. one of the silver nets, which were the foundations of their robes, was fastened there and three of the women were putting small rose jewels into each microscopic setting. here and there they had varied the pattern with tiny emeralds or flaming opals, so that the finished portion was a rainbow. one of the workers smoothed the robe and glanced up at garin, a gentle teasing in her voice as she explained: "this is for the daughter when she comes to her throne." the daughter! what had the lord of the folk said? "this youth is fit to mate with the daughter." but urg had said that the ancient ones had gone from tav. "who is the daughter?" he demanded. "thrala of the light." "where is she?" the woman shivered and there was fear in her eyes. "thrala lies in the caves of darkness." "the caves of darkness!" did she mean thrala was dead? was he, garin featherstone, to be the victim of some rite of sacrifice which was designed to unite him with the dead? urg touched his arm. "not so. thrala has not yet entered the place of ancestors." "you know my thoughts?" urg laughed. "thoughts are easy to read. thrala lives. sera served the daughter as handmaiden while she was yet among us. sera, do you show us thrala as she was." the woman crossed to a wall where there was a mirror such as urg had used for his language lesson. she gazed into it and then beckoned the flyer to stand beside her. the mirror misted and then he was looking, as if through a window, into a room with walls and ceiling of rose quartz. on the floor were thick rugs of silver rose. and a great heap of cushions made a low couch in the center. "the inner chamber of the daughter," sera announced. * * * * * a circular panel in the wall opened and a woman slipped through. she was very young, little more than a girl. there were happy curves in her full crimson lips, joyous lights in her violet eyes. she was human of shape, but her beauty was unearthly. her skin was pearl white and other colors seemed to play faintly upon it, so that it reminded garin of mother-of-pearl with its lights and shadows. the hair, which veiled her as a cloud, was blue-black and reached below her knees. she was robed in the silver net of the folk and there was a heavy girdle of rose-shaded jewels about her slender waist. "that was thrala before the black ones took her," said sera. garin uttered a cry of disappointment as the picture vanished. urg laughed. "what care you for shadows when the daughter herself waits for you? you have but to bring her from the caves of darkness--" "where are these caves--" garin's question was interrupted by the pealing of the cavern gong. sera cried out: "the black ones!" urg shrugged. "when they spared not the ancient ones how could we hope to escape? come, we must go to the hall of thrones." before the jade throne of the lord of the folk stood a small group of the lizard-men beside two litters. as garin entered the lord spoke. "let the outlander come hither that he may see the work of the black ones." garin advanced unwillingly, coming to stand by those struggling things which gasped their message between moans and screams of agony. they were men of the folk but their black skins were green with rot. the lord leaned forward on his throne. "it is well," he said. "you may depart." as if obeying his command, the tortured things let go of the life to which they had clung and were still. "look upon the work of the black ones," the ruler said to garin. "jiv and betv were captured while on a mission to the gibi of the cliff. it seems that the black ones needed material for their laboratories. they seek even to give the daughter to their workers of horror!" a terrible cry of hatred arose from the hall, and garin's jaw set. to give that fair vision he had just seen to such a death as this--! "jiv and betv were imprisoned close to the daughter and they heard the threats of kepta. our brothers, stricken with foul disease, were sent forth to carry the plague to us, but they swam through the pool of boiling mud. they have died, but the evil died with them. and i think that while we breed such as they, the black ones shall not rest easy. listen now, outlander, to the story of the black ones and the caves of darkness, of how the ancient ones brought the folk up from the slime of a long dried sea and made them great, and of how the ancient ones at last went down to their destruction." _chapter four_ _the defeat of the ancient ones_ "in the days before the lands of the outer world were born of the sea, before even the land of the sun (mu) and the land of the sea (atlantis) arose from molten rock and sand, there was land here in the far south. a sere land of rock plains, and swamps where slimy life mated, lived and died. "then came the ancient ones from beyond the stars. their race was already older than this earth. their wise men had watched its birth-rending from the sun. and when their world perished, taking most of their blood into nothingness, a handful fled hither. "but when they climbed from their space ship it was into hell. for they had gained, in place of their loved home, bare rock and stinking slime. "they blasted out this tav and entered into it with the treasures of their flying ships and also certain living creatures captured in the swamps. from these, they produced the folk, the gibi, the tand, and the land-tending eron. "among these, the folk were eager for wisdom and climbed high. but still the learning of the ancient ones remained beyond their grasp. "during the eons the ancient ones dwelt within their protecting wall of haze the outer world changed. cold came to the north and south; the land of sun and the land of sea arose to bear the foot of true man. on their mirrors of seeing the ancient ones watched man-life spread across the world. they had the power of prolonging life, but still the race was dying. from without must come new blood. so certain men were summoned from the land of the sun. then the race flourished for a space. "the ancient ones decided to leave tav for the outer world. but the sea swallowed the land of sun. again, in the time of the land of sea, the stock within tav was replenished and the ancient ones prepared for exodus; again the sea cheated them. "those men left in the outer world reverted to savagery. since the ancient ones would not mingle their blood with that of almost beasts, they built the haze wall stronger and remained. but a handful of them were attracted by the forbidden, and secretly they summoned the beast men. of that monstrous mating came the black ones. they live but for the evil they may do, and the power which they acquired is debased and used to forward cruelty. "at first their sin was not discovered. when it was, the others would have slain the offspring but for the law which forbids them to kill. they must use their power for good or it departs from them. so they drove the black ones to the southern end of tav and gave them the caves of darkness. never were the black ones to come north of the river of gold--nor were the ancient ones to go south of it. "for perhaps two thousand years the black ones kept the law. but they worked, building powers of destruction. while matters rested thus, the ancient ones searched the world, seeking men by whom they could renew the race. once there came men from an island far to the north. six lived to penetrate the mists and take wives among the daughters. again, they called the yellow-haired men of another breed, great sea rovers. "but the black ones called too. as the ancient ones searched for the best, the black ones brought in great workers of evil. and, at last, they succeeded in shutting off the channels of sending thought so that the ancient ones could call no more. "then did the black ones cross the river of gold and enter the land of the ancient ones. thran, dweller in the light and lord of the caverns, summoned the folk to him. "'there will come one to aid you,' he told us. 'try the summoning again after the black ones have seemed to win. thrala, daughter of the light, will not enter into the room of pleasant death with the rest of the women, but will give herself into the hands of the black ones, that they may think themselves truly victorious. you of the folk withdraw into the place of reptiles until the black ones are gone. nor will all the ancient ones perish--more will be saved, but the manner of their preservation i dare not tell. when the sun-haired youth comes from the outer world, send him into the caves of darkness to rescue thrala and put an end to evil.' "and then the lady thrala arose and said softly, 'as the lord thran has said, so let it be. i shall deliver myself into the hands of the black ones that their doom may come upon them.' "lord thran smiled upon her as he said: 'so will happiness be your portion. after the great mists, does not light come again?' "the women of the ancient ones then took their leave and passed into the place of pleasant death while the men made ready for battle with the black ones. for three days they fought, but a new weapon of the black ones won the day, and the chief of the black ones set up this throne of jet as proof of his power. since, however, the black ones were not happy in the caverns, longing for the darkness of their caves, they soon withdrew and we, the folk, came forth again. "but now the time has come when the dark ones will sacrifice the daughter to their evil. if you can win her free, outlander, they shall perish as if they had not been." "what of the ancient ones?" asked garin--"those others thran said would be saved?" "of those we know nothing save that when we bore the bodies of the fallen to the place of ancestors there were some missing. that you may see the truth of this story, urg will take you to the gallery above the room of pleasant death and you may look upon those who sleep there." urg guiding, garin climbed a steep ramp leading from the hall of thrones. this led to a narrow balcony, one side of which was clear crystal. urg pointed down. they were above a long room whose walls were tinted jade green. on the polished floor were scattered piles of cushions. each was occupied by a sleeping woman and several of these clasped a child in their arms. their long hair rippled to the floor, their curved lashes made dark shadows on pale faces. "but they are sleeping!" protested garin. urg shook his head. "it is the sleep of death. twice each ten hours vapors rise from the floor. those breathing them do not wake again, and if they are undisturbed they will lie thus for a thousand years. look there--" he pointed to the closed double doors of the room. there lay the first men of the ancient ones garin had seen. they, too, seemed but asleep, their handsome heads pillowed on their arms. "thran ordered those who remained after the last battle in the hall of thrones to enter the room of pleasant death that the black ones might not torture them for their beastly pleasures. thran himself remained behind to close the door, and so died." there were no aged among the sleepers. none of the men seemed to count more than thirty years and many of them appeared younger. garin remarked upon this. "the ancient ones appeared thus until the day of their death, though many lived twice a hundred years. the light rays kept them so. even we of the folk can hold back age. but come now, our lord trar would speak with you again." _chapter five_ _into the caves of darkness_ again garin stood before the jade throne of trar and heard the stirring of the multitude of the folk in the shadows. trar was turning a small rod of glittering, greenish metal around in his soft hands. "listen well, outlander," he began, "for little time remains to us. within seven days the great mists will be upon us. then no living thing may venture forth from shelter and escape death. and before that time thrala must be out of the caves. this rod will be your weapon; the black ones have not its secret. watch." two of the folk dragged an ingot of metal before him. he touched it with the rod. great flakes of rust appeared to spread across the entire surface. it crumpled away and one of the folk trod upon the pile of dust where it had been. "thrala lies in the heart of the caves but kepta's men have grown careless with the years. enter boldly and trust to fortune. they know nothing of your coming or of thran's words concerning you." urg stood forward and held out his hands in appeal. "what would you, urg?" "lord, i would go with the outlander. he knows nothing of the forest of the morgels or of the pool of mud. it is easy to go astray in the woodland--" trar shook his head. "that may not be. he must go alone, even as thran said." the ana, which had followed in garin's shadow all day, whistled shrilly and stood on tiptoe to tug at his hand. trar smiled. "that one may go, its eyes may serve you well. urg will guide you to the outer portal of the place of ancestors and set you upon the road to the caves. farewell, outlander, and may the spirits of the ancient ones be with you." garin bowed to the ruler of the folk and turned to follow urg. near the door stood a small group of women. sera pressed forward from them, holding out a small bag. "outlander," she said hurriedly, "when you look upon the daughter speak to her of sera, for i have awaited her many years." he smiled. "that i will." "if you remember, outlander. i am a great lady among the folk and have my share of suitors, yet i think i could envy the daughter. nay, i shall not explain that," she laughed mockingly. "you will understand in due time. here is a packet of food. now go swiftly that we may have you among us again before the mists." so a woman's farewell sped them on their way. urg chose a ramp which led downward. at its foot was a niche in the rock, above which a rose light burned dimly. urg reached within the hollow and drew out a pair of high buskins which he aided garin to lace on. they were a good fit, having been fashioned for a man of the ancient ones. the passage before them was narrow and crooked. there was a thick carpet of dust underfoot, patterned by the prints of the folk. they rounded a corner and a tall door loomed out of the gloom. urg pressed the surface, there was a click and the stone rolled back. [illustration: _with the ana perched on his shoulder and the green rod of destruction in his hand, garin strode into the gloom of tav--pledged to bring the daughter out of the caves of darkness...._] "this is the place of ancestors," he announced as he stepped within. they were at the end of a colossal hall whose domed roof disappeared into shadows. thick pillars of gleaming crystal divided it into aisles, all leading inward to a raised dais of oval shape. filling the aisles were couches and each soft nest held its sleeper. near to the door lay the men and women of the folk, but closer to the dais were the ancient ones. here and there a couch bore a double burden, upon the shoulder of a man was pillowed the drooping head of a woman. urg stopped beside such a one. "see, outlander, here was one who was called from your world. marena of the house of light looked with favor upon him and their days of happiness were many." the man on the couch had red-gold hair and on his upper arm was a heavy band of gold whose mate garin had once seen in a museum. a son of pre-norman ireland. urg traced with a crooked finger the archaic lettering carved upon the stone base of the couch. "lovers in the light sleep sweetly. the light returns on the appointed day." "who lies there?" garin motioned to the dais. "the first ancient ones. come, look upon those who made this tav." on the dais the couches were arranged in two rows and between them, in the center, was a single couch raised above the others. fifty men and women lay as if but resting for the hour, smiles on their peaceful faces but weary shadows beneath their eyes. there was an un-human quality about them which was lacking in their descendents. urg advanced to the high couch and beckoned garin to join him. a man and a woman lay there, the woman's head upon the man's breast. there was that in their faces which made garin turn away. he felt as if he had intruded roughly where no man should go. "here lies thran, son of light, first lord of the caverns, and his lady thrala, dweller in the light. so have they lain a thousand thousand years, and so will they lie until this planet rots to dust beneath them. they led the folk out of the slime and made tav. such as they we shall never see again." they passed silently down the aisles of the dead. once garin caught sight of another fair-haired man, perhaps another outlander, since the ancient ones were all dark of hair. urg paused once more before they left the hall. he stood by the couch of a man, wrapped in a long robe, whose face was ravaged with marks of agony. urg spoke a single name: "thran." so this was the last lord of the caverns. garin leaned closer to study the dead face but urg seemed to have lost his patience. he hurried his charge on to a panel door. "this is the southern portal of the caverns," he explained. "trust to the ana to guide you and beware of the boiling mud. should the morgels scent you, kill quickly, they are the servants of the black ones. may fortune favor you, outlander." the door was open and garin looked out upon tav. the soft blue light was as strong as it had been when he had first seen it. with the ana perched on his shoulder, the green rod and the bag of food in his hands, he stepped out onto the moss sod. urg raised his hand in salute and the door clicked into place. garin stood alone, pledged to bring the daughter out of the caves of darkness. there is no night or day in tav since the blue light is steady. but the folk divide their time by artificial means. however garin, being newly come from the rays of healing, felt no fatigue. as he hesitated, the ana chattered and pointed confidently ahead. before them was a dense wood of fern trees. it was quiet in the forest as garin made his way into its gloom and for the first time he noted a peculiarity of tav. there were no birds. the portion of the woodland they had to traverse was but a spur of the forest to the west. after an hour of travel they came out upon the bank of a sluggish river. the turbid waters of the stream were a dull saffron color. this, thought garin, must be the river of gold, the boundary of the lands of the black ones. he rounded a bend to come upon a bridge, so old that time itself had worn its stone angles into curves. the bridge gave on a wide plain where tall grass grew sere and yellow. to the left was a hissing and bubbling, and a huge wave of boiling mud arose in the air. garin choked in a wind, thick with chemicals, which blew from it. he smelled and tasted the sulphur-tainted air all across the plain. and he was glad enough to plunge into a small fern grove which half-concealed a spring. there he bathed his head and arms while the ana pulled open sera's food bag. together they ate the cakes of grain and the dried fruit. when they were done the ana tugged at garin's hand and pointed on. cautiously garin wormed his way through the thick underbrush until, at last, he looked out into a clearing and at its edge the entrance of the black ones' caves. two tall pillars, carved into the likeness of foul monsters, guarded a rough-edged hole. a fine greenish mist whirled and danced in its mouth. the flyer studied the entrance. there was no life to be seen. he gripped the destroying rod and inched forward. before the green mist he braced himself and then stepped within. _chapter six_ _kepta's second prisoner_ the green mist enveloped garin. he drew into his lungs hot moist air faintly tinged with a scent of sickly sweetness, as from some hidden corruption. green motes in the air gave forth little light and seemed to cling to the intruder. with the ana pattering before him, the american started down a steep ramp, the soft soles of his buskins making no sound. at regular intervals along the wall, niches held small statues. and about each perverted figure was a crown of green motes. the ana stopped, its large ears outspread as if to catch the faintest murmur of sound. from somewhere under the earth came the howls of a maddened dog. the ana shivered, creeping closer to garin. down led the ramp, growing narrower and steeper. and louder sounded the insane, coughing howls of the dog. then the passage was abruptly barred by a grill of black stone. garin peered through its bars at a flight of stairs leading down into a pit. from the pit arose snarling laughter. padding back and forth were things which might have been conceived by demons. they were sleek, rat-like creatures, hairless, and large as ponies. red saliva dripped from the corners of their sharp jaws. but in the eyes, which they raised now and then toward the grill, there was intelligence. these were the morgels, watchdogs and slaves of the black ones. from a second pair of stairs directly across the pit arose a moaning call. a door opened and two men came down the steps. the morgels surged forward, but fell back when whips were cracked over their heads. the masters of the morgels were human in appearance. black loin cloths were twisted about them and long, wing-shaped cloaks hung from their shoulders. on their heads, completely masking their hair, were cloth caps which bore ragged crests not unlike cockscombs. as far as garin could see they were unarmed except for their whips. a second party was coming down the steps. between two of the black ones struggled a prisoner. he made a desperate and hopeless fight of it, but they dragged him to the edge of the pit before they halted. the morgels, intent upon their promised prey, crouched before them. five steps above were two figures to whom the guards looked for instructions. one was a man of their race, of slender, handsome body and evil, beautiful face. his hand lay possessively upon the arm of his companion. it was thrala who stood beside him, her head proudly erect. the laughter curves were gone from her lips; there was only sorrow and resignation to be read there now. but her spirit burned like a white flame in her eyes. "look!" her warder ordered. "does not kepta keep his promises? shall we give dandtan into the jaws of our slaves, or will you unsay certain words of yours, lady thrala?" the prisoner answered for her. "kepta, son of vileness, thrala is not for you. remember, beloved one," he spoke to the daughter, "the day of deliverance is at hand--" garin felt a sudden emptiness. the prisoner had called thrala "beloved" with the ease of one who had the right. "i await thrala's answer," kepta returned evenly. and her answer he got. "beast among beasts, you may send dandtan to his death, you may heap all manner of insult and evil upon me, but still i say the daughter is not for your touch. rather will i cut the line of life with my own hands, taking upon me the punishment of the elder ones. to dandtan," she smiled down upon the prisoner, "i say farewell. we shall meet again beyond the curtain of time." she held out her hands to him. "thrala, dear one--!" one of his guards slapped a hand over the prisoner's mouth putting an end to his words. but now thrala was looking beyond him, straight at the grill which sheltered garin. kepta pulled at her arm to gain her attention. "watch! thus do my enemies die. to the pit with him!" the guards twisted their prisoner around and the morgels crept closer, their eyes fixed upon that young, writhing body. garin knew that he must take a hand in the game. the ana was tugging him to the right, and there was an open archway leading to a balcony running around the side of the pit. those below were too entranced by the coming sport to notice the invader. but thrala glanced up and garin thought that she sighted him. something in her attitude attracted kepta, he too looked up. for a moment he stared in stark amazement, and then he thrust the daughter through the door behind him. "ho, outlander! welcome to the caves. so the folk have meddled--" "greeting, kepta." garin hardly knew whence came the words which fell so easily from his tongue. "i have come as was promised, to remain until the black throne is no more." "not even the morgels boast before their prey lies limp in their jaws," flashed kepta. "what manner of beast are you?" "a clean beast, kepta, which you are not. bid your two-legged morgels loose the youth, lest i grow impatient." the flyer swung the green rod into view. kepta's eyes narrowed but his smile did not fade. "i have heard of old that the ancient ones do not destroy--" "as an outlander i am not bound by their limits," returned garin, "as you will learn if you do not call off your stinking pack." the master of the caves laughed. "you are as the tand, a fool without a brain. never shall you see the caverns again--" "you shall own me master yet, kepta." the black chief seemed to consider. then he waved to his men. "release him," he ordered. "outlander, you are braver than i thought. we might bargain--" "thrala goes forth from the caves and the black throne is dust, those are the terms of the caverns." "and if we do not accept?" "then thrala goes forth, the throne is dust and tav shall have a day of judging such as it has never seen before." "you challenge me?" again words, which seemed to garin to have their origin elsewhere, came to him. "as in yu-lac, i shall take--" before kepta could reply there was trouble in the pit. dandtan, freed by his guards, was crossing the floor in running leaps. garin threw himself belly down on the balcony and dropped the jeweled strap of his belt over the lip. a moment later it snapped taut and he stiffened to an upward pull. already dandtan's heels were above the snapping jaws of a morgel. the flyer caught the youth around the shoulders and heaved. they rolled together against the wall. "they are gone! all of them!" dandtan cried, as he regained his feet. he was right; the morgels howled below, but kepta and his men had vanished. "thrala!" garin exclaimed. dandtan nodded. "they have taken her back to the cells. they believe her safe there." "then they think wrong." garin stooped to pick up the green rod. his companion laughed. "we'd best start before they get prepared for us." garin picked up the ana. "which way?" dandtan showed him a passage leading from behind the other door. then he dodged into a side chamber to return with two of the wing cloaks and cloth hoods, so that they might pass as black ones. they went by the mouths of three side tunnels, all deserted. none disputed their going. all the black ones had withdrawn from this part of the caves. dandtan sniffed uneasily. "all is not well. i fear a trap." "while we can pass, let us." the passage curved to the right and they came into an oval room. again dandtan shook his head but ventured no protest. instead he flung open a door and hurried down a short hall. it seemed to garin that there were strange rustlings and squeakings in the dark corners. then dandtan stopped so short that the flyer ran into him. "here is the guard room--and it is empty!" garin looked over his shoulder into a large room. racks of strange weapons hung on the walls and the sleeping pallets of the guards were stacked evenly, but the men were nowhere to be seen. they crossed the room and passed beneath an archway. "even the bars are not down," observed dandtan. he pointed overhead. there hung a portcullis of stone. garin studied it apprehensively. but dandtan drew him on into a narrow corridor where were barred doors. "the cells," he explained, and withdrew a bar across one door. the portal swung back and they pushed within. _chapter seven_ _kepta's trap_ thrala arose to face them. forgetting the disguise he wore, garin drew back, chilled by her icy demeanor. but dandtan sprang forward and caught her in his arms. she struggled madly until she saw the face beneath her captor's hood, and then she gave a cry of delight and her arms were about his neck. "dandtan!" he smiled. "even so. but it is the outlander's doing." she came to the american, studying his face. "outlander? so cold a name is not for you, when you have served us so." she offered him her hands and he raised them to his lips. "and how are you named?" dandtan laughed. "thus the eternal curiosity of women!" "garin." "garin," she repeated. "how like--" a faint rose glowed beneath her pearl flesh. dandtan's hand fell lightly upon his rescuer's shoulder. "indeed he is like him. from this day let him bear that other's name. garan, son of light." "why not?" she returned calmly. "after all--" "the reward which might have been garan's may be his? tell him the story of his namesake when we are again in the caverns--" dandtan was interrupted by a frightened squeak from the ana. then came a mocking voice. "so the prey has entered the trap of its own will. how many hunters may boast the same?" kepta leaned against the door, the light of vicious mischief dancing in his eyes. garin dropped his cloak to the floor, but dandtan must have read what was in the flyer's mind, for he caught him by the arm. "on your life, touch him not!" "so you have learned that much wisdom while you have dwelt among us, dandtan? would that thrala had done the same. but fair women find me weak." he eyed her proud body in a way that would have sent garin at his throat had dandtan not held him. "so shall thrala have a second chance. how would you like to see these men in the room of instruments, lady?" "i do not fear you," she returned. "thran once made a prophecy, and he never spoke idly. we shall win free--" "that will be as fate would have it. meanwhile, i leave you to each other." he whipped around the door and slammed it behind him. they heard the grating of the bar he slid into place. then his footsteps died away. "there goes evil," murmured thrala softly. "perhaps it would have been better if garin had killed him as he thought to do. we must get away...." garin drew the rod from his belt. the green light-motes gathered and clung about its polished length. "touch not the door," thrala advised; "only its hinges." beneath the tip of the rod the stone became spongy and flaked away. dandtan and the flyer caught the door and eased it to the floor. with one quick movement thrala caught up garin's cloak and swirled it about her, hiding the glitter of her gem-encrusted robe. there was a curious cold lifelessness about the air of the corridor, the light-bearing motes vanishing as if blown out. "hurry!" the daughter urged. "kepta is withdrawing the living light, so that we will have to wander in the dark." when they reached the end of the hall the light was quite gone, and garin bruised his hands against the stone portcullis which had been lowered. from somewhere on the other side of the barrier came rippling laughter. "oh, outlander," called kepta mockingly, "you will get through easily enough when you remember your weapon. but the dark you can not conquer so easily, nor that which runs the halls." garin was already busy with the rod. within five minutes their way was clear again. but thrala stopped them when they would have gone through. "kepta has loosed the hunters." "the hunters?" "the morgels and--others," explained dandtan. "the black ones have withdrawn and only death comes this way. and the morgels see in the dark...." "so does the ana." "well thought of," agreed the son of the ancient ones. "it will lead us out." as if in answer, there came a tug at garin's belt. reaching back, he caught thrala's hand and knew that she had taken dandtan's. so linked they crossed the guard room. then the ana paused for a long time, as if listening. there was nothing to see but the darkness which hung about them like the smothering folds of a curtain. "something follows us," whispered dandtan. "nothing to fear," stated thrala. "it dare not attack. it is, i think, of kepta's fashioning. and that which has not true life dreads death above all things. it is going--" there came sounds of something crawling slowly away. "kepta will not try that again," continued the daughter, disdainfully. "he knew that his monstrosities would not attack. only in the light are they to be dreaded--and then only because of the horror of their forms." again the ana tugged at its master's belt. they shuffled into the narrow passage beyond. but there remained the sense of things about them in the dark, things which thrala continued to insist were harmless and yet which filled garin with loathing. then they entered the far corridor into which led the three halls and which ended in the morgel pit. here, garin believed, was the greatest danger from the morgels. the ana stopped short, dropping back against garin's thigh. in the blackness appeared two yellow disks, sparks of saffron in their depths. garin thrust the rod into thrala's hands. "what do you?" she demanded. "i'm going to clear the way. it's too dark to use the rod against moving creatures...." he flung the words over his shoulder as he moved toward the unwinking eyes. _chapter eight_ _escape from the caves_ keeping his eyes upon those soulless yellow disks, garin snatched off his hood, wadding it into a ball. then he sprang. his fingers slipped on smooth hide, sharp fangs ripped his forearm, blunt nails scraped his ribs. a foul breath puffed into his face and warm slaver trickled down his neck and chest. but his plan succeeded. the cap was wedged into the morgel's throat and the beast was slowly choking. blood dripped from the flyer's torn flesh, but he held on grimly until he saw the light fade from those yellow eyes. the dying morgel made a last mad plunge for freedom, dragging his attacker along the rock floor. then garin felt the heaving body rest limply against his own. he staggered against the wall, panting. "garin!" cried thrala. her questing hand touched his shoulder and crept to his face. "it is well with you?" "yes," he panted, "let us go on." thrala's fingers had lingered on his arm and now she walked beside him, her cloak making whispering sounds as it brushed against the wall and floor. "wait," she cautioned suddenly. "the morgel pit...." dandtan slipped by them. "i will try the door." in a moment he was back. "it is open," he whispered. "kepta believes," mused thrala, "that we will keep to the safety of the gallery. therefore let us go through the pit. the morgels will be gone to better hunting grounds." through the pit they went. a choking stench arose from underfoot and they trod very carefully. they climbed the stairs on the far side unchallenged, dandtan leading. "the rod here, garin," he called; "this door is barred." garin pressed the weapon into the other's hand and leaned against the rock. he was sick and dizzy. the long, deep wounds on his arm and shoulder were stiffening and ached with a biting throb. when they went on he panted with effort. they still moved in darkness and his distress passed unnoticed. "this is wrong," he muttered, half to himself. "we go too easily--" and he was answered out of the blackness. "well noted, outlander. but you go free for the moment, as does thrala and dandtan. our full accounting is not yet. and now, farewell, until we meet again in the hall of thrones. i could find it in me to applaud your courage, outlander. perhaps you will come to serve me yet." garin turned and threw himself toward the voice, bringing up with bruising force against rock wall. kepta laughed. "not with the skill of the bull tand will you capture me." his second laugh was cut cleanly off, as if a door had been closed. in silence the three hurried up the ramp. then, as through a curtain, they came into the light of tav. thrala let fall her drab cloak, stood with arms outstretched in the crater land. her sparkling robe sheathed her in glory and she sang softly, rapt in her own delight. then dandtan put his arm about her; she clung to him, staring about as might a beauty-bewildered child. garin wondered dully how he would be able to make the journey back to the caverns when his arm and shoulder were eaten with a consuming fire. the ana crept closer to him, peering into his white face. they were aroused by a howl from the caves. thrala cried out and dandtan answered her unspoken question. "they have set the morgels on our trail!" the howl from the caves was echoed from the forest. morgels before and behind them! garin might set himself against one, dandtan another, and thrala could defend herself with the rod, but in the end the pack would kill them. "we shall claim protection from the gibi of the cliff. by the law they must give us aid," said thrala, as, turning up her long robe, she began to run lightly. garin picked up her cloak and drew it across his shoulder to hide his welts. when he could no longer hold her pace she must not guess the reason for his falling behind. of that flight through the forest the flyer afterward remembered little. at last the gurgle of water broke upon his pounding ears, as he stumbled along a good ten lengths behind his companions. they had come to the edge of the wood along the banks of the river. without hesitation thrala and dandtan plunged into the oily flood, swimming easily for the other side. garin dropped the cloak, wondering if, once he stepped into the yellow stream, he would ever be able to struggle out again. already the ana was in, paddling in circles near the shore and pleading with him to follow. wearily garin waded out. the water, which washed the blood and sweat from his aching body, was faintly brackish and stung his wounds to life. he could not fight the sluggish current and it bore him downstream, well away from where the others landed. but at last he managed to win free, crawling out near where a smaller stream joined the river. there he lay panting, face down upon the moss. and there they found him, water dripping from his bedraggled finery, the ana stroking his muddied hair. thrala cried out with concern and pillowed his head on her knees while dandtan examined his wounds. "why did you not tell us?" demanded thrala. he did not try to answer, content to lie there, her arms supporting him. dandtan disappeared into the forest, returning soon, his hands filled with a mass of crushed leaves. with these he plastered garin's wounds. "you'd better go on," garin warned. dandtan shook his head. "the morgels can not swim. if they cross, they must go to the bridge, and that is half the crater away." the ana dropped into their midst, its small hands filled with clusters of purple fruit. and so they feasted, garin at ease on a fern couch, accepting food from thrala's hand. there seemed to be some virtue in dandtan's leaf plaster for, after a short rest, garin was able to get to his feet with no more than a twinge or two in his wounds. but they started on at a more sober pace. through mossy glens and sunlit glades where strange flowers made perfume, the trail led. the stream they followed branched twice before, on the edge of meadow land, they struck away from the guiding water toward the crater wall. suddenly thrala threw back her head and gave a shrill, sweet whistle. out of the air dropped a yellow and black insect, as large as a hawk. twice it circled her head and then perched itself on her outstretched wrist. its swollen body was jet black, its curving legs, three to a side, chrome yellow. the round head ended in a sharp beak and it had large, many-faceted eyes. the wings, which lazily tested the air, were black and touched with gold. thrala rubbed the round head while the insect nuzzled affectionately at her cheek. then she held out her wrist again and it was gone. "we shall be expected now and may pass unmolested." shortly they became aware of a murmuring sound. the crater wall loomed ahead, dwarfing the trees at its base. "there is the city of the gibi," remarked dandtan. clinging to the rock were the towers and turrets of many eight-sided cells. "they are preparing for the mists," observed thrala. "we shall have company on our journey to the caverns." they passed the trees and reached the foot of the wax skyscrapers which towered dizzily above their heads. a great cloud of the gibi hovered about them. garin felt the soft brush of their wings against his body. and they crowded each other jealously to be near thrala. the soft _hush-hush_ of their wings filled the clearing as one large gibi of outstanding beauty approached. the commoners fluttered off and thrala greeted the queen of the cells as an equal. then she turned to her companions with the information the gibi queen had to offer. "we are just in time. tomorrow the gibi leave. the morgels have crossed the river and are out of control. instead of hunting us they have gone to ravage the forest lands. all tav has been warned against them. but they may be caught by the mist and so destroyed. we are to rest in the cliff hollows, and one shall come for us when it is time to leave." the gibi withdrew to the cell-combs after conducting their guests to the rock-hollows. _chapter nine_ _days of preparation_ garin was awakened by a loud murmuring. dandtan knelt beside him. "we must go. even now the gibi seal the last of the cells." they ate hurriedly of cakes of grain and honey, and, as they feasted, the queen again visited them. the first of the swarm were already winging eastward. with the gibi nation hanging like a storm cloud above them, the three started off across the meadow. the purple-blue haze was thickening and, here and there, curious formations, like the dust devils of the desert, arose and danced and disappeared again. the tropic heat of tav increased; it was as if the ground itself were steaming. "the mists draw close; we must hurry," panted dandtan. they traversed the tongue of forest which bordered the meadow and came to the central plain of tav. there was a brooding stillness there. the ana, perched on garin's shoulder, shivered. their walk became a trot; the gibi bunched together. once thrala caught her breath in a half sob. "they are flying slowly because of us. and it's so far--" "look!" dandtan pointed at the plain. "the morgels!" the morgel pack, driven by fear, ran in leaping bounds. they passed within a hundred yards of the three, yet did not turn from their course, though several snarled at them. "they are already dead," observed dandtan. "there is no time for them to reach the shelter of the caves." splashing through a shallow brook, the three began to run. for the first time thrala faltered and broke pace. garin thrust the ana into dandtan's arms and, before she could protest, swept the girl into his arms. the haze was denser now, settling upon them as a curtain. black hair, finer than silk, whipped across garin's throat. thrala's head was on his shoulder, her heaving breasts arched as she gasped the sultry air. "they--keep--watch...!" shouted dandtan. piercing the gloom were pin-points of light. a dark shape grazed garin's head--one of the gibi queen's guards. then abruptly they stumbled into a throng of the folk, one of whom reached for thrala with a crooning cry. it was sera welcoming her mistress. thrala was borne away by the women, leaving garin with a feeling of desolation. "the mists, outlander." it was urg, pointing toward the cavern mouth. two of the folk swung their weight on a lever. across the opening a sheet of crystal clicked into place. the caverns were sealed. the haze was now inky black outside and billows of it beat against the protecting barrier. it might have been midnight of the blackest, starless night. "so will it be for forty days. what is without--dies," said urg. "then we have forty days in which to prepare," garin spoke his thought aloud. dandtan's keen face lightened. "well said, garin. forty days before kepta may seek us. and we have much to do. but first, our respects to the lord of the folk." together they went to the hall of thrones where, when he saw dandtan, trar arose and held out his jade-tipped rod of office. the son of the ancient ones touched it. "hail! dweller in the light, and outlander who has fulfilled the promise of thran. thrala is once more within the caverns. now send you to dust this black throne...." garin, nothing loath, drew the destroying rod from his belt, but dandtan shook his head. "the time is not yet, trar. kepta must finish the pattern he began. forty days have we and then the black ones come." trar considered thoughtfully. "so that be the way of it. thran did not see another war...." "but he saw an end to kepta!" trar straightened as if some burden had rolled from his thin shoulders. "well do you speak, lord. when there is one to sit upon the rose throne, what have we to fear? listen, o ye folk, the light has returned to the caverns!" his cry was echoed by the gathering of the folk. "and now, lord--" he turned to dandtan with deference--"what are your commands?" "for the space of one sleep i shall enter the chamber of renewing with this outlander, who is no longer an outlander but one, garin, accepted by the daughter according to the law. and while we rest let all be made ready...." "the dweller in the light has spoken!" trar himself escorted them from the hall. they came, through many winding passages, to a deep pool of water, in the depths of which lurked odd purple shadows. dandtan stripped and plunged in, garin following his example. the water was tinglingly alive and they did not linger in it long. from it they went to a bubble room such as the one garin had rested in after the bath of light rays, and on the cushions in its center stretched their tired bodies. when garin awoke he experienced the same exultation he had felt before. dandtan regarded him with a smile. "now to work," he said, as he reached out to press a knob set in the wall. two of the folk appeared, bringing with them clean trappings. after they dressed and broke their fast, dandtan started for the laboratories. garin would have gone with him, but sera intercepted them. "there is one would speak with lord garin...." dandtan laughed. "go," he ordered the american. "thrala's commands may not be slighted." the hall of women was deserted. and the corridor beyond, roofed and walled with slabs of rose-shot crystal, was as empty. sera drew aside a golden curtain and they were in the audience chamber of the daughter. a semi-circular dais of the clearest crystal, heaped with rose and gold cushions, faced them. before it, a fountain, in the form of a flower nodding on a curved stem, sent a spray of water into a shallow basin. the walls of the room were divided into alcoves by marble pillars, each one curved in semblance of a fern frond. from the domed ceiling, on chains of twisted gold, seven lamps, each wrought from a single yellow sapphire, gave soft light. the floor was a mosaic of gold and crystal. two small anas, who had been playing among the cushions, pattered up to exchange greetings with garin's. but of the mistress of the chamber there was no sign. garin turned to sera, but before he could phrase his question, she asked mockingly: "who is the lord garin that he can not wait with patience?" but she left in search of the daughter. garin glanced uneasily about the room. this jeweled chamber was no place for him. he had started toward the door when thrala stepped within. "greetings to the daughter." his voice sounded formal and cold, even to himself. her hands, which had been outheld in welcome, dropped to her sides. a ghost of a frown dimmed her beauty. "greetings, garin," she returned slowly. "you sent for me--" he prompted, eager to escape from this jewel box and the unattainable treasure it held. "yes," the coldness of her tone was an order of exile. "i would know how you fared and whether your wounds yet troubled you." he looked down at his own smooth flesh, cleanly healed by the wisdom of the folk. "i am myself again and eager to be at such work as dandtan can find for me...." her robe seemed to hiss across the floor as she turned upon him. "then go!" she ordered. "go quickly!" and blindly he obeyed. she had spoken as if to a servant, one whom she could summon and dismiss by whim. even if dandtan held her love, she might have extended him her friendship. but he knew within him that friendship would be a poor crumb beside the feast his pulses pounded for. there was a pattering of feet behind him. so, she would call him back! his pride sent him on. but it was sera. her head thrust forward until she truly resembled a reptile. "fool! morgel!" she spat. "even the black ones did not treat her so. get you out of the place of women lest they divide your skin among them!" garin broke free, not heeding her torrent of reproach. then he seized upon one of the folk as a guide and sought the laboratories. far beneath the surface of tav, where the light-motes shone ghostly in the gloom, they came into a place of ceaseless activity, where there were tables crowded with instruments, coils of glass and metal tubing, and other equipment and supplies. these were the focusing point for ceaseless streams of the folk. on a platform at the far end, garin saw the tall son of the ancient ones working on a framework of metal and shining crystal. he glanced up as garin joined him. "you are late," he accused. "but your excuse is a good one. now get you to work. hold this here--and here--while i fasten these clamps." so garin became extra hands and feet for dandtan, and they worked feverishly to build against the lifting of the mists. there was no day or night in the laboratories. they worked steadily without rest, and without feeling fatigue. twice they went to the chamber of renewing, but except for these trips to the upper ways they were not out of the laboratories through all those days. of thrala there was no sign, nor did any one speak of her. the cavern dwellers were depending upon two defenses: an evil green liquid, to be thrown in frail glass globes, and a screen charged with energy. shortly before the lifting of the mists, these arms were transported to the entrance and installed there. dandtan and garin made a last inspection. "kepta makes the mistake of under-rating his enemies," dandtan reflected, feeling the edge of the screen caressingly. "when i was captured, on the day my people died, i was sent to the black ones' laboratories so that their seekers after knowledge might learn the secrets of the ancient ones. but i proved a better pupil than teacher and i discovered the defense against the black fire. after i had learned that, kepta grew impatient with my supposed stupidity and tried to use me to force thrala to his will. for that, as for other things, shall he pay--and the paying will not be in coin of his own striking. let us think of that...." he turned to greet urg and trar and the other leaders of the folk, who had approached unnoticed. among them stood thrala, her gaze fixed upon the crystal wall between them and the thinning mist. she noticed garin no more than she did the anas playing with her train and the women whispering behind her. but garin stepped back into the shadows--and what he saw was not weapons of war, but cloudy black hair and graceful white limbs veiled in splendor. urg and one of the other chieftains bore down upon the door lever. with a protesting squeak, the glass wall disappeared into the rock. the green of tav beckoned them out to walk in its freshness; it was renewed with lusty life. but in all that expanse of meadow and forest there was a strange stillness. "post sentries," ordered dandtan. "the black ones will come soon." he beckoned garin forward as he spoke to thrala: "let us go to the hall of thrones." but the daughter did not answer his smile. "it is not meet that we should spend time in idle talk. let us go instead to call upon the help of those who have gone before us." so speaking, she darted a glance at garin as chill as the arctic lands beyond the lip of tav, and then swept away with sera bearing her train. dandtan stared at garin. "what has happened between you two?" the flyer shook his head. "i don't know. no man is born with an understanding of women--" "but she is angered with you. what has happened?" for a moment garin was tempted to tell the truth: that he dared not break any barrier she chose to raise, lest he seize what in honor was none of his. but he shook his head mutely. neither of them saw thrala again until death entered the caverns. _chapter ten_ _battle and victory_ garin stood with dandtan looking out into the plain of tav. some distance away were two slender, steel-tipped towers, which were, in reality, but hollow tubes filled with the black fire. before these dark-clad figures were busy. "they seem to believe us already defeated. let them think so," commented dandtan, touching the screen they had erected before the cavern entrance. as he spoke kepta swaggered through the tall grass to call a greeting: "ho, rock dweller, i would speak with you--" dandtan edged around the screen, garin a pace behind. "i see you, kepta." "good. i trust that your ears will serve you as well as your eyes. these are my terms: give thrala to me to dwell in my chamber and the outlander to provide sport for my captains. make no resistance but throw open the caverns so that i may take my rightful place in the hall of thrones. do this and we shall be at peace...." "and this is our reply:"--dandtan stood unmovingly before the screen--"return to the caves; break down the bridge between your land and ours. let no black one come hither again, ever...." kepta laughed. "so, that be the way of it! then this shall we do: take thrala, to be mine for a space, and then to go to my captains--" garin hurled himself forward, felt kepta's lips mash beneath his fist; his fingers were closing about the other's throat as dandtan, who was trying to pull him away from his prey, shouted a warning: "watch out!" a morgel had leaped from the grass, its teeth snapping about garin's wrist, forcing him to drop kepta. then dandtan laid it senseless by a sharp blow with his belt. on hands and knees kepta crawled back to his men. the lower part of his face was a red and dripping smear. he screamed an order with savage fury. dandtan drew the still raging flyer behind the screen. "be a little prudent," he panted. "kepta can be dealt with in other ways than with bare hands." the towers were swinging their tips toward the entrance. dandtan ordered the screen wedged tightly into place. outside, the morgel dandtan had stunned got groggily to its feet. when it had limped half the distance back to its master, kepta gave the order to fire. the broad beam of black light from the tip of the nearest tower caught the beast head on. there was a chilling scream of agony, and where the morgel had stood gray ashes drifted on the wind. a hideous crackling arose as the black beam struck the screen. green grass beneath seared away, leaving only parched earth and naked blue soil. those within the cavern crouched behind their frail protection, half blinded by the light from the seared grass, coughing from the chemical-ridden fumes which curled about the cracks of the rock. then the beam faded out. thin smoke plumed from the tips of the towers, steam arose from the blackened ground. dandtan drew a deep breath. "it held!" he cried, betraying at last the fear which had ridden him. men of the folk dragged engines of tubing before the screen, while others brought forth the globes of green liquid. dandtan stood aside, as if this matter were the business of the folk alone, and garin recalled that the ancient ones were opposed to the taking of life. trar was in command now. at his orders the globes were posed on spoon-shaped holders. loopholes in the screen clicked open. trar brought down his hand in signal. the globes arose lazily, sliding through the loopholes and floating out toward the towers. one, aimed short, struck the ground where the fire had burned it bare, and broke. the liquid came forth, sluggishly, forming a gray-green gas as the air struck it. another spiral of gas arose almost at the foot of one of the towers--and then another ... and another. there quickly followed a tortured screaming, which soon dwindled to a weak yammering. they could see shapes, no longer human or animal, staggering about in the fog. dandtan turned away, his face white with horror. garin's hands were over his ears to shut out that crying. at last it was quiet; there was no more movement by the towers. urg placed a sphere of rosy light upon the nearest machine and flipped it out into the camp of the enemy. as if it were a magnet it drew the green tendrils of gas, to leave the air clear. here and there lay shrunken, livid shapes, the towers brooding over them. one of the folk burst into their midst, a woman of thrala's following. "haste!" she clawed at garin. "kepta takes thrala!" she ran wildly back the way she had come, with the american pounding at her heels. they burst into the hall of thrones and saw a struggling group before the dais. garin heard someone howl like an animal, became aware the sound came from his own throat. for the second time his fist found its mark on kepta's face. with a shriek of rage the black one threw thrala from him and sprang at garin, his nails tearing gashes in the flyer's face. twice the american twisted free and sent bone-crushing blows into the other's ribs. then he got the grip he wanted, and his fingers closed around kepta's throat. in spite of the black one's struggles he held on until a limp body rolled beneath him. panting, the american pulled himself up from the blood-stained floor and grabbed the arm of the jade throne for support. "garin!" thrala's arms were about him, her pitying fingers on his wounds. and in that moment he forgot dandtan, forgot everything he had steeled himself to remember. she was in his arms and his mouth sought hers possessively. nor was she unresponsive, but yielded, as a flower yields to the wind. "garin!" she whispered softly. then, almost shyly, she broke from his hold. beyond her stood dandtan, his face white, his mouth tight. garin remembered. and, a little mad with pain and longing, he dropped his eyes, trying not to see the loveliness which was thrala. "so, outlander, thrala flies to your arms--" garin whirled about. kepta was hunched on the broad seat of the jet throne. "no, i am not dead, outlander--nor shall you kill me, as you think to do. i go now, but i shall return. we have met and hated, fought and died before--you and i. you were a certain garan, marshall of the air fleet of yu-lac on a vanished world, and i was lord of koom. that was in the days before the ancient ones pioneered space. you and i and thrala, we are bound together and even fate can not break those bonds. farewell, garin. and do you, thrala, remember the ending of that other garan. it was not an easy one." with a last malicious chuckle, he leaned back in the throne. his battered body slumped. then the sharp lines of the throne blurred; it shimmered in the light. abruptly then both it and its occupant were gone. they were staring at empty space, above which loomed the rose throne of the ancient ones. "he spoke true," murmured thrala. "we have had other lives, other meetings--so will we meet again. but for the present he returns to the darkness which sent him forth. it is finished." without warning, a low rumbling filled the cavern; the walls rocked and swayed. lizard and human, they huddled together until the swaying stopped. finally a runner appeared with news that one of the gibi had ventured forth and discovered that the caves of darkness had been sealed by an underground quake. the menace of the black ones was definitely at an end. _chapter eleven_ _thrala's mate_ although there were falls of rock within the caverns and some of the passages were closed, few of the folk suffered injury. gibi scouts reported that the land about the entrance to the caves had sunk, and that the river of gold, thrown out of its bed, was fast filling this basin to form a lake. as far as they could discover, none of the black ones had survived the battle and the sealing of the caves. but they could not be sure that there was not a handful of outlaws somewhere within the confines of tav. the crater itself was changed. a series of raw hills had appeared in the central plain. the pool of boiling mud had vanished and trees in the forest lay flat, as if cut by a giant scythe. upon their return to the cliff city, the gibi found most of their wax skyscrapers in ruins, but they set about rebuilding without complaint. the squirrel farmers emerged from their burrows and were again busy in the fields. garin felt out of place in all the activity that filled the caverns. more than ever he was the outlander with no true roots in tav. restlessly, he explored the caverns, spending many hours in the place of ancestors, where he studied those men of the outer world who had preceded him into this weird land. one night when he came back to his chamber he found dandtan and trar awaiting him there. there was a curious hardness in dandtan's attitude, a somber sobriety in trar's carriage. "have you sought the hall of women since the battle?" demanded the son of the ancient ones abruptly. "no," retorted garin shortly. did dandtan accuse him of double dealing? "have you sent a message to thrala?" garin held back his rising temper. "i have not ventured where i can not." dandtan nodded to trar as if his suspicions had been confirmed. "you see how it stands, trar." trar shook his head slowly. "but never has the summoning been at fault--" "you forget," dandtan reminded him sharply. "it was once--and the penalty was exacted. so shall it be again." garin looked from one to the other, confused. dandtan seemed possessed of a certain ruthless anger, but trar was manifestly unhappy. "it must come after council, the daughter willing," the lord of the folk said. dandtan strode toward the door. "thrala is not to know. assemble the council tonight. meanwhile, see that he," he jerked his thumb toward garin, "does not leave this room." thus garin became a prisoner under the guard of the folk, unable to discover of what dandtan accused him, or how he had aroused the hatred of the cavern ruler. unless dandtan's jealousy had been aroused and he was determined to rid himself of a rival. believing this, the flyer went willingly to the chamber where the judges waited. dandtan sat at the head of a long table, trar at his right hand and lesser nobles of the folk beyond. "you know the charge," dandtan's words were tipped with venom as garin came to stand before him. "out of his own mouth has this outlander condemned himself. therefore i ask that you decree for him the fate of that outlander of the second calling who rebelled against the summoning." "the outlander has admitted his fault?" questioned one of the folk. trar inclined his head sadly. "he did." as garin opened his mouth to demand a stating of the charge against him, dandtan spoke again: "what say you, lords?" for a long moment they sat in silence and then they bobbed their lizard heads in assent. "do as you desire, dweller in the light." dandtan smiled without mirth. "look, outlander." he passed his hand over the glass of the seeing mirror set in the table top. "this is the fate of him who rebels--" in the shining surface garin saw pictured a break in tav's wall. at its foot stood a group of men of the ancient ones, and in their midst struggled a prisoner. they were forcing him to climb the crater wall. garin watched him reach the lip and crawl over, to stagger across the steaming rock, dodging the scalding vapor of hot springs, until he pitched face down in the slimy mud. "such was his ending, and so will you end--" the calm brutality of that statement aroused garin's anger. "rather would i die that way than linger in this den," he cried hotly. "you, who owe your life to me, would send me to such a death without even telling me of what i am accused. little is there to choose between you and kepta, after all--except that he was an open enemy!" dandtan sprang to his feet, but trar caught his arm. "he speaks fairly. ask him why he will not fulfill the summoning." while dandtan hesitated, garin leaned across the table, flinging his words, weapon-like, straight into that cold face. "i'll admit that i love thrala--have loved her since that moment when i saw her on the steps of the morgel pit in the caves. since when has it become a crime to love that which may not be yours--if you do not try to take it?" trar released dandtan, his golden eyes gleaming. "if you love her, claim her. it is your right." "do i not know," garin turned to him, "that she is dandtan's. thran had no idea of dandtan's survival when he laid his will upon her. shall i stoop to holding her to an unwelcome bargain? let her go to the one she loves...." dandtan's face was livid, and his hands, resting on the table, trembled. one by one the lords of the folk slipped away, leaving the two face-to-face. "and i thought to order you to your death." dandtan's whisper was husky as it emerged between dry lips. "garin, we thought you knew--and, knowing, had refused her." "knew what?" * * * * * "that i am thran's son--and thrala's brother." the floor swung beneath garin's unsteady feet. dandtan's hands were warm on his shoulders. "i am a fool," said the american slowly. dandtan smiled. "a very honorable fool! now get you to thrala, who deserves to hear the full of this tangle." so it was that, with dandtan by his side, garin walked for the second time down that hallway, to pass the golden curtains and stand in the presence of the daughter. she came straight from her cushions into his arms when she read what was in his face. they needed no words. and in that hour began garin's life in tav. transcriber's note: this etext was produced from _fantasy book_ vol. number ( ). extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed. minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. georges guynemer _published on the fund given to the yale university press in memory of_ ensign curtis seaman read, u.s.n.r.f. _of the class of , yale college, killed in the aviation service in france, february, _ [illustration: georges guynemer, knight of the air] henry bordeaux georges guynemer knight of the air translated from the french by louise morgan sill with an introduction by theodore roosevelt new haven yale university press new york: madison avenue mdccccxviii copyright, , by yale university press table of contents page introduction prologue canto i: childhood i. the guynemers ii. home and college iii. the departure canto ii: launched into space i. the first victory ii. from the aisne to verdun iii. "la terre a vu jadis errer des paladins" iv. on the somme (june, , to february, ) canto iii: at the zenith i. on the th of may, ii. a visit to guynemer iii. guynemer in camp iv. guynemer at home v. the magic machine canto iv: the ascension i. the battle of flanders ii. omens iii. the last flight iv. the vigil v. the legend vi. in the panthéon envoi appendix: genealogy of georges guynemer list of illustrations georges guynemer, knight of the air _frontispiece_ (from a wood block in three colors by rudolph ruzicka.) the first flight in a blériot in the air combat "going west" (from charcoal drawings by w.a. dwiggins.) introduction _june th, ._ my dear m. bordeaux: i count the american people fortunate in reading any book of yours; i count them fortunate in reading any biography of that great hero of the air, guynemer; and thrice over i count them fortunate to have such a book written by you on such a subject. you, sir, have for many years been writing books peculiarly fitted to instill into your countrymen the qualities which during the last forty-eight months have made france the wonder of the world. you have written with such power and charm, with such mastery of manner and of matter, that the lessons you taught have been learned unconsciously by your readers--and this is the only way in which most readers will learn lessons at all. the value of your teachings would be as great for my countrymen as for yours. you have held up as an ideal for men and for women, that high courage which shirks no danger, when the danger is the inevitable accompaniment of duty. you have preached the essential virtues, the duty to be both brave and tender, the duty of courage for the man and courage for the woman. you have inculcated stern horror of the baseness which finds expression in refusal to perform those essential duties without which not merely the usefulness, but the very existence, of any nation will come to an end. under such conditions it is eminently appropriate that you should write the biography of that soldier-son of france whose splendid daring has made him stand as arch typical of the soul of the french people through these terrible four years. in this great war france has suffered more and has achieved more than any other power. to her more than to any other power, the final victory will be due. civilization has in the past, for immemorial centuries, owed an incalculable debt to france; but for no single feat or achievement of the past does civilization owe as much to france as for what her sons and daughters have done in the world war now being waged by the free peoples against the powers of the pit. modern war makes terrible demands upon those who fight. to an infinitely greater degree than ever before the outcome depends upon long preparation in advance, and upon the skillful and unified use of the nation's entire social and industrial no less than military power. the work of the general staff is infinitely more important than any work of the kind in times past. the actual machinery of both is so vast, delicate, and complicated that years are needed to complete it. at all points we see the immense need of thorough organization and of making ready far in advance of the day of trial. but this does not mean that there is any less need than before of those qualities of endurance and hardihood, of daring and resolution, which in their sum make up the stern and enduring valor which ever has been and ever will be the mark of mighty victorious armies. the air service in particular is one of such peril that membership in it is of itself a high distinction. physical address, high training, entire fearlessness, iron nerve, and fertile resourcefulness are needed in a combination and to a degree hitherto unparalleled in war. the ordinary air fighter is an extraordinary man; and the extraordinary air fighter stands as one in a million among his fellows. guynemer was one of these. more than this. he was the foremost among all the extraordinary fighters of all the nations who in this war have made the skies their battle field. we are fortunate indeed in having you write his biography. very faithfully yours, (signed) theodore roosevelt. m. henry bordeaux, rue du ranelagh, paris, france. prologue " ... guynemer has not come back." the news flew from one air escadrille to another, from the aviation camps to the troops, from the advance to the rear zones of the army; and a shock of pain passed from soul to soul in that vast army, and throughout all france, as if, among so many soldiers menaced with death, this one alone should have been immortal. history gives us examples of such universal grief, but only at the death of great leaders whose authority and importance intensified the general mourning for their loss. thus, troy without hector was defenseless. when gaston de foix, duke de nemours, surnamed the thunderbolt of italy, died at the age of twenty-three after the victory of ravenna, the french transalpine conquests were endangered. the bullet which struck turenne at saltzbach also menaced the work of louis xiv. but guynemer had nothing but his airplane, a speck in the immense spaces filled by the war. this young captain, though without an equal in the sky, conducted no battle on land. why, then, did he alone have the power, like a great military chief, of leaving universal sadness behind him? a little child of france has given us the reason. among the endless expressions of the nation's mourning, this letter was written by the school-mistress of a village in franche-comté, mademoiselle s----, of bouclans, to the mother of the aviator: madame, you have already received the sorrowful and grateful sympathy of official france and of france as a nation; i am venturing to send you the naïve and sincere homage of young france as represented by our school children at bouclans. before receiving from our chiefs the suggestion, of which we learn to-day, we had already, on the nd of october, consecrated a day to the memory of our hero guynemer, your glorious son. i send you enclosed an exercise by one of my pupils chosen at random, for all of them are animated by the same sentiments. you will see how the immortal glory of your son shines even in humble villages, and that the admiration and gratitude which the children, so far away in the country, feel for our greatest aviator, will be piously and faithfully preserved in his memory. may this sincere testimony to the sentiments of childhood be of some comfort in your grief, to which i offer my most profound respect. the school-mistress of bouclans, c.s. and this is the exercise, written by paul bailly, aged eleven years and ten months: guynemer is the roland of our epoch: like roland he was very brave, and like roland he died for france. but his exploits are not a legend like those of roland, and in telling them just as they happened we find them more beautiful than any we could imagine. to do honor to him they are going to write his name in the panthéon among the other great names. his airplane has been placed in the invalides. in our school we consecrated a day to him. this morning as soon as we reached the school we put his photograph up on the wall; for our moral lesson we learned by heart his last mention in the despatches; for our writing lesson we wrote his name, and he was the subject for our theme; and finally, we had to draw an airplane. we did not begin to think of him only after he was dead; before he died, in our school, every time he brought down an airplane we were proud and happy. but when we heard that he was dead, we were as sad as if one of our own family had died. roland was the example for all the knights in history. guynemer should be the example for frenchmen now, and each one will try to imitate him and will remember him as we have remembered roland. i, especially, i shall never forget him, for i shall remember that he died for france, like my dear papa. this little french boy's description of guynemer is true and, limited as it is, sufficient: guynemer is the modern roland, with the same redoubtable youth and fiery soul. he is the last of the knights-errant, the first of the new knights of the air. his short life needs only accurate telling to appear like a legend. the void he left is so great because every household had adopted him. each one shared in his victories, and all have written his name among their own dead. guynemer's glory, to have so ravished the minds of children, must have been both simple and perfect, and as his biographer i cannot dream of equaling the young paul bailly. but i shall not take his hero from him. guynemer's life falls naturally into the legendary rhythm, and the simple and exact truth resembles a fairy tale. the writers of antiquity have mourned in touching accents the loss of young men cut down in the flower of their youth. "the city," sighs pericles, "has lost its light, the year has lost its spring." theocritus and ovid in turn lament the short life of adonis, whose blood was changed into flowers. and in virgil the father of the gods, whom pallas supplicates before facing turnus, warns him not to confound the beauty of life with its length: stat sua cuique dies; breve et irreparabile tempus omnibus est vitae; sed famam extendere factis, hoc virtutis opus. . . "the days of man are numbered, and his life-time short and irrecoverable; but to increase his renown by the quality of his acts, this is the work of virtue...."[ ] [footnote : _Æneid_, book , garnier ed.] _famam extendere factis_: no fabulous personage of antiquity made more haste than guynemer to multiply the exploits that increased his glory. but the enumeration of these would not furnish a key to his life, nor explain either that secret power he possessed or the fascination he exerted. "it is not always the most brilliant actions which best expose the virtues or vices of men. some trifle, some insignificant word or jest, often displays the character better than bloody combats, pitched battles, or the taking of cities. also, as portrait painters try to reproduce the features and expression of their subjects, as the most obvious presentment of their characters, and without troubling about the other parts of the body, so we may be allowed to concentrate our study upon the distinctive signs of the soul...."[ ] [footnote : plutarch, _life of alexander_.] i, then, shall especially seek out these "distinctive signs of the soul." guynemer's family has confided to me his letters, his notebooks of flights, and many precious stories of his childhood, his youth, and his victories. i have seen him in camps, like the cid campeador, who made "the swarm of singing victories fly, with wings outspread, above his tents." i have had the good fortune to see him bring down an enemy airplane, which fell in flames on the bank of the river vesle. i have met him in his father's house at compiègne, which was his bivar. almost immediately after his disappearance i passed two night-watches--as if we sat beside his body--with his comrades, talking of nothing but him: troubled night-watches in which we had to change our shelter, for dunkirk and the aviation field were bombarded by moonlight. in this way i was enabled to gather much scattered evidence, which will help, perhaps, to make clear his career. but i fear--and offer my excuses for this--to disappoint professional members of the aviation corps, who will find neither technical details nor the competence of the specialist. one of his comrades of the air,--and i hope it may be one of his rivals in glory,--should give us an account of guynemer in action. the biography which i have attempted to write seeks the soul for its object rather than the motor: and the soul, too, has its wings. france consented to love herself in guynemer, something which she is not always willing to do. it happens sometimes that she turns away from her own efforts and sacrifices to admire and celebrate those of others, and that she displays her own defects and wounds in a way which exaggerates them. she sometimes appears to be divided against herself; but this man, young as he was, had reconciled her to herself. she smiled at his youth and his prodigious deeds of valor. he made peace within her; and she knew this, when she had lost him, by the outbreak of her grief. as on the first day of the war, france found herself once more united; and this love sprang from her recognition in guynemer of her own impulses, her own generous ardor, her own blood whose course has not been retarded by many long centuries. since the outbreak of war there are few homes in france which have not been in mourning. but these fathers and mothers, these wives and children, when they read this book, will not say: "what is guynemer to us? nobody speaks of _our_ dead." their dead were, generally, infantry soldiers whom it was impossible for them to help, whose life they only knew by hearsay, and whose place of burial they sometimes do not know. so many obscure soldiers have never been commemorated, who gave, like guynemer, their hearts and their lives, who lived through the worst days of misery, of mud and horror, and upon whom not the least ray of glory has ever descended! the infantry soldier is the pariah of the war, and has a right to be sensitive. the heaviest weight of suffering caused by war has fallen upon him. nevertheless, he had adopted guynemer, and this was not the least of the conqueror's conquests. the infantryman had not been jealous of guynemer; he had felt his fascination, and instinctively he divined a fraternal guynemer. when the french official dispatches reported the marvelous feats of the aviation corps, the infantry soldier smiled scornfully in his mole's-hole: "them again! everlastingly them! and what about us?" but when guynemer added another exploit to his account, the trenches exulted, and counted over again all his feats. he himself, from his height, looked down in the most friendly way upon these troglodytes who followed him with their eyes. one day when somebody reproached him with running useless risks in aërial acrobatic turns, he replied simply: "after certain victories it is quite impossible not to pirouette a bit, one is so happy!" this is the spirit of youth. "they jest and play with death as they played in school only yesterday at recreation."[ ] but guynemer immediately added: "it gives so much pleasure to the poilus watching us down there."[ ] [footnote : henri lavedan (_l'illustration_ of october , ).] [footnote : pierre l'ermite (_la croix_ of october , ).] the sky-juggler was working for his brother the infantryman. as the singing lark lifts the peasant's head, bent over his furrow, so the conquering airplane, with its overturnings, its "loopings," its close veerings, its spirals, its tail spins, its "zooms," its dives, all its tricks of flight, amuses for a while the sad laborers in the trenches. may my readers, when they have finished this little book, composed according to the rules of the boy, paul bailly, lift their heads and seek in the sky whither he carried, so often and so high, the tricolor of france, an invisible and immortal guynemer! canto i childhood i. the guynemers in his book on chivalry, the good léon gautier, beginning with the knight in his cradle and wishing to surround him immediately with a supernatural atmosphere, interprets in his own fashion the sleeping baby smiling at the angels. "according to a curious legend, the origin of which has not as yet been clearly discovered," he explains, "the child during its slumber hears 'music,' the incomparable music made by the movement of the stars in their spheres. yes, that which the most illustrious scholars have only been able to suspect the existence of is distinctly heard by these ears scarcely opened as yet, and ravishes them. a charming fable, giving to innocence more power than to proud science."[ ] [footnote : _la chevalerie_, by léon gautier. a. walter ed. .] the biographer of guynemer would like to be able to say that our new knight also heard in his cradle the music of the stars, since he was to be summoned to approach them. but it can be said, at least, that during his early years he saw the shadowy train of all the heroes of french history, from charlemagne to napoleon. georges marie ludovic jules guynemer was born in paris one christmas eve, december , . he saw then, and always, the faces of three women, his mother and his two elder sisters, standing guard over his happiness. his father, an officer (junior class ' , saint-cyr), had resigned in . an ardent scholar, he became a member of the historical society of compiègne, and while examining the charters of the _cartulaire de royallieu_, or writing a monograph on the _seigneurie d'offémont_, he verified family documents of the genealogy of his family. above all, it was he in reality who educated his son. guynemer is a very old french name. in the _chanson de roland_ one guinemer, uncle of ganelon, helped roland to mount at his departure. a guinemer appears in _gaydon_ (the knight of the jay), which describes the sorrowful return of charlemagne to aix-la-chapelle after the drama of roncevaux; and a guillemer figures in _fier-à-bras_, in which charlemagne and the twelve peers conquer spain. this guillemer l'escot is made prisoner along with oliver, bérart de montdidier, auberi de bourgoyne, and geoffroy l'angevin. in the eleventh century the family of guynemer left flanders for brittany. when the french revolution began, there were still guynemers in brittany,[ ] but the greatgrandfather of our hero, bernard, was living in paris in reduced circumstances, giving lessons in law. under the empire he was later to be appointed president of the tribunal at mayence, the chief town in the country of mont tonnerre. falling into disfavor after , he was only president of the tribunal of gannat. [footnote : there are still guynemers there. m. etienne dupont, judge in the civil court of saint-malo, sent me an extract from an _aveu collectif_ of the "leftenancy of tinténiac de guinemer des rabines." the guynemers, in more recent times, have left traces in the county of saint-malo, where mgr. guynemer de la hélandière inaugurated, in september, , the tour saint-joseph, house of the little sisters of the poor in saint-pern.] here, thanks to an unusual circumstance, oral tradition takes the place of writings, charters, and puzzling trifles. one of the four sons of bernard guynemer, auguste, lived to be ninety-three, retaining all his faculties. toward the end he resembled voltaire, not only in face, but in his irony and skepticism. he had all sorts of memories of the revolution, the empire, and the restoration, of which he told extraordinary anecdotes. his longevity was owing to his having been discharged from military service at the conscription. two of his three brothers died before maturity: one, alphonse, infantry officer, was killed at vilna in , and the other, jules, naval officer, died in as the result of wounds received at trafalgar. the last son, achille, whom we shall presently refer to again, was to perpetuate the family name. auguste guynemer remembered very vividly the day when he faced down robespierre. he was at that time eight years old, and the mistress of his school had been arrested. he came to the school as usual and found there were no classes. where was his teacher? he asked. at the revolutionary tribunal. where was the revolutionary tribunal? jestingly they told him where to find it, and he went straight to the place, entered, and asked back the captive. the audience looked at the little boy with amazement, while the judges joked and laughed at him. but without being discomposed, he explained the purpose of his visit. the incident put robespierre in good humor, and he told the child that his teacher had not taught him anything. immediately, as a proof of the contrary, the youngster began to recite his lessons. robespierre was so delighted that, in the midst of general laughter, he lifted up the boy and kissed him. the prisoner was restored to him, and the school reopened. however, of the four sons of the president of mayence, the youngest only, achille, was destined to preserve the family line. born in , a volunteer soldier at the age of fifteen, his military career was interrupted by the fall of the empire. he died in paris, in the rue rossini, in . edmond about, who had known his son at saverne, wrote the following biographical notice: a child of fifteen years enlisted as a volunteer in . junot found him intelligent, made him his secretary, and took him to spain. the young man won his epaulettes under colonel hugo in . he was made prisoner on the capitulation of guadalajara in , but escaped with two of his comrades whom he saved at the peril of his own life. love, or pity, led a young spanish girl to aid in this heroic episode, and for several days the legend threatened to become a romance. but the young soldier reappeared in at the passage of the bidassoa, where he was promoted lieutenant in the th hussars, and was given the cross by the emperor, who seldom awarded it. the return of the bourbons suddenly interrupted this career, so well begun. the young cavalry officer then undertook the business of maritime insurance, earning honorably a large fortune, which he spent with truly military generosity, strewing his road with good deeds. he continued working up to the very threshold of death, for he resigned only a month ago, and it was yesterday, thursday, that we laid him in his tomb at the age of seventy-five. his name was achille guynemer. his family is related to the benoist d'azy, the dupré de saint-maur, the cochin, de songis, du trémoul and vasselin families, who have left memories of many exemplary legal careers passed in paris. his son, who wept yesterday as a child weeps before the tomb of such a father, is the new sub-prefect of saverne, the young and laborious administrator who, from the beginning, won our gratitude and friendship. the story of the escape from spain contributes another page to the family traditions. the young spanish girl had sent the prisoner a silken cord concealed in a pie. a fourth companion in captivity was unfortunately too large to pass through the vent-hole of the prison, and was shot by the english. it was august , , after the passage of the bidassoa, that lieutenant achille guynemer was decorated with the cross of the legion of honor. he was then twenty-one years of age. his greatgrandson, who resembled the portraits of achille (especially a drawing done in ), at least in the proud carriage of the head, was to receive the cross at an even earlier age. there were other epic souvenirs which awakened georges guynemer's curiosity in childhood. he was shown the sword and snuffbox of general count de songis, brother of his paternal grandmother. this sword of honor had been presented to the general by the convention when he was merely a captain of artillery, for having saved the cannon of the fortress at valenciennes,--though it is quite true that dumouriez, for the same deed, wished to have him hanged. the snuffbox was given him by the emperor for having commanded the passage of the rhine during the ulm campaign. achille guynemer had two sons. the elder, amédée, a graduate of the École polytechnique, died at the age of thirty and left no children. the second, auguste, was sub-prefect of saverne under the second empire; and, resigning this office after the war of , he became vice-president of the society for the protection of alsatians and lorrainers, the president of which was the count d'haussonville. he had married a young scottish lady, miss lyon, whose family included the earls of strathmore, among whose titles were those of glamis and cawdor mentioned by shakespeare in "macbeth." as we have already seen, only one of the four sons of the president of mayence--the hero of the bidassoa--had left descendants. his son is m. paul guynemer, former officer and historian of the _cartulaire de royallieu_ and of the _seigneurie d'offémont_, whose only son was the aviator. the race whose history is lost far back in the _chanson de roland_ and the crusades, which settled in flanders, and then in brittany, but became, as soon as it left the provinces for the capital, nomadic, changing its base at will from the garrison of the officer to that of the official, seems to have narrowed and refined its stock and condensed all the power of its past, all its hopes for the future, in one last offshoot. there are some plants, like the aloe, which bear but one flower, and sometimes only at the end of a hundred years. they prepare their sap, which has waited so long, and then from the heart of the plant issues a long straight stem, like a tree whose regular branches look like forged iron. at the top of this stem opens a marvelous flower, which is moist and seems to drop tears upon the leaves, inviting them to share its grief for the doom it awaits. when the flower is withered, the miracle is never renewed. guynemer is the flower of an old french family. like so many other heroes, like so many peasants who, in this great war, have been the wheat of the nation, his own acts have proved his nobility. but the fairy sent to preside at his birth laid in his cradle certain gilded pages of the finest history in the world: roland, the crusades, brittany and duguesclin, the empire, and alsace. ii. home and college one of the generals best loved by the french troops, general de m----, a learned talker and charming moralist, who always seemed in his conversation to wander through the history of france, like a sorcerer in a forest, weaving and multiplying his spells, once recited to me the short prayer he had composed for grace to enable him to rear his children in the best way: "monseigneur saint louis, messire duguesclin, messire bayard, help me to make my sons brave and truthful." so was georges guynemer reared, in the cult of truth, and taught that to deceive is to lower oneself. even in his infancy he was already as proud as any personage. his early years were protected by the gentle and delicate care of his mother and his two sisters, who hung adoringly over him and were fascinated by his strange black eyes. what was to become of a child whose gaze was difficult to endure, and whose health was so fragile, for when only a few months old he had almost died of infantile enteritis. his parents had been obliged to carry him hastily to switzerland, and then to hyères, and to keep him in an atmosphere like that of a hothouse. petted and spoiled, tended by women, like achilles at scyros among the daughters of lycomedes, would he not bear all his life the stamp of too softening an education? too pretty and too frail, with his curls and his dainty little frock, he had an _air de princesse_. his father felt that a mistake was being made, and that this excess of tenderness must be promptly ended. he took the child on his knees; a scene as trifling as it was decisive was about to be enacted: "i almost feel like taking you with me, where i am going." "where are you going, father?" "there, where i am going, there are only men." "i want to go with you." the father seemed to hesitate, and then to decide: "after all, too early is better than too late. put on your hat. i shall take you." he took him to the hairdresser. "i am going to have my hair cut. how do you feel about it?" "i want to do like men." the child was set upon a stool where, in the white combing-cloth, with his curly hair, he resembled an angel done by an italian primitive. for an instant the father thought himself a barbarian, and the barber hesitated, scissors in air, as before a crime. they exchanged glances; then the father stiffened and gave the order. the beautiful curls fell. but now it became necessary to return home; and when his mother saw him, she wept. "i am a man," the child announced, peremptorily. he was indeed to be a man, but he was to remain for a long time also a mischievous boy--nearly, in fact, until the end. when he was six or seven years old he began to study with the teacher of his sisters, which was convenient and agreeable, but meant the addition of another petticoat. the fineness of his feelings, his fear of having wounded any comrade, which were later to inspire him in so many touching actions, were the result of this feminine education. his walks with his father, who already gave him much attention, brought about useful reactions. compiègne is rich in the history of the past: kings were crowned there, and kings died there. the abbey of saint cornille sheltered, perhaps, the holy winding-sheet of christ. treaties were signed at compiègne, and there magnificent fêtes were given by louis xiv, louis xv, napoleon i, and napoleon iii. and even in the child met czar nicholas and czarina alexandra, who were staying there. so, the palace and the forest spoke to him of a past which his father could explain. and on the place de l'hôtel de ville he was much interested in the bronze statue of the young girl, bearing a banner. "who is it?" "jeanne d'arc." georges guynemer's parents renounced the woman teacher, and in order to keep him near them, entered him as a day scholar at the lyceum of compiègne. here the child worked very little. m. paul guynemer, having been educated at stanislas college, in paris, wished his son also to go there. georges was then twelve years old. "in a photograph of the pupils of the fifth (green) class," wrote a journalist in the _journal des débats_, who had had the curiosity to investigate georges' college days, "may be seen a restless-looking little boy, thinner and paler than the others, whose round black eyes seem to shine with a somber brilliance. these eyes, which, eight or ten years later, were to hunt and pursue so many enemy airplanes, are passionately self-willed. the same temperament is evident in a snapshot of this same period, in which georges is seen playing at war. the college registers of this year tell us that he had a clear, active, well-balanced mind, but that he was thoughtless, mischief-making, disorderly, careless; that he did not work, and was undisciplined, though without any malice; that he was very proud, and 'ambitious to attain first rank': a valuable guide in understanding the character of one who became 'the ace of aces.' in fact, at the end of the year young guynemer received the first prize for latin translation, the first prize for arithmetic, and four honorable mentions." the author of the _débats_ article, who is a scholar, recalls michelet's _mot_: "the frenchman is that naughty child characterized by the good mother of duguesclin as 'the one who is always fighting the others....'" but the best portrait of guynemer as a child i find in the unpublished notes of abbé chesnais, who was division prefect at stanislas college during the four years which guynemer passed there. the abbé chesnais had divined this impassioned nature, and watched it with troubled sympathy. "his eyes vividly expressed the headstrong, fighting nature of the boy," he says of his pupil. "he did not care for quiet games, but was devoted to those requiring skill, agility, and force. he had a decided preference for a game highly popular among the younger classes--_la petite guerre_. the class was divided into two armies, each commanded by a general chosen by the pupils themselves, and having officers of all ranks under his orders. each soldier wore on his left arm a movable brassard. the object of the battle was the capture of the flag, which was set up on a wall, a tree, a column, or any place dominating the courtyard. the soldier from whom his brassard was taken was considered dead. "guynemer, who was somewhat weak and sickly, always remained a private soldier. his comrades, appreciating the value of having a general with sufficient muscular strength to maintain his authority, never dreamed of placing him at their head. the muscle, which he lacked, was a necessity. but when a choice of soldiers had to be made, he was always counted among the best, and his name called among the first. although he had not much strength, he had agility, cleverness, a quick eye, caution, and a talent for strategy. he played his game himself, not liking to receive any suggestions from his chiefs, intending to follow his own ideas. the battle once begun, he invariably attacked the strongest enemy and pursued those comrades who occupied the highest rank. with the marvelous suppleness of a cat, he climbed trees, flung himself to the ground, crept along barriers, slipped between the legs of his adversaries, and bounded triumphantly off with a number of brassards. it was a great joy to him to bring the trophies of his struggles to his general. with radiant face, and with his two hands resting on his legs, he looked mockingly at his adversaries who had been surprised by his cleverness. his superiority over his comrades was especially apparent in the battles they fought in the woods of bellevue.[ ] there the field was larger, and there was a greater variety of chances for surprising the enemy. he hid himself under the dead leaves, lay close to the branches of trees, and crept along brooks and ravines. it was often he who was selected to find a place of vantage for the flag. but he was never willing to act as its guardian, for he feared nothing so much as inactivity, preferring to chase his comrades through the woods. the short journey to the bellevue woods was passed in the elaboration of various plans, and arguing about those of his friends; he always wanted to have the last word. the return journey was enlivened by biting criticism, which often ended in a quarrel."[ ] [footnote : the country house of stanislas college is at bellevue. [translator's note.]] [footnote : unpublished notes by abbé chesnais.] this is an astonishing portrait, in which nearly all the characteristics of the future guynemer, guynemer the fighter, are apparent. he does not care to command, he likes too well to give battle, and is already the knight of single combats. his method is personal, and he means to follow his own ideas. he attacks the strongest; neither size nor number stops him. his suppleness and skill are unequaled. he lacks the muscle for a good gymnast, and at the parallel bars, or the fixed bar, he is the despair of his instructors. how will he supply this deficiency? simply by the power of his will. all physical games do not require physical strength, and he became an excellent shot and fencer. furious at his own weakness, he outdid the strong, and, like diomede and ajax, brought back his trophies laughing. a college courtyard was not sufficient for him: he needed the bellevue woods, while he waited to have all space, all the sky, at his disposal. so the warlike infancy of a guynemer is like that of a roland, a duguesclin, a bayard,--all are ardent hearts with indomitable energy, upright souls developing early, whose passion it was only necessary to control. the youth of guynemer was like his childhood. as a student of higher mathematics his combative tendencies were not at all changed. "at recreation he was very fond of roller-skating, which in his case gave rise to many disputes and much pugilism. having no respect for boys who would not play, he would skate into the midst of their group, pushing them about, seizing their arms and forcing them to waltz round and round with him like weather-cocks. then he would be off at his highest speed, pursued by his victims. blows were exchanged, which did not prevent him from repeating the same thing a few seconds later. at the end of recreation, with his hair disordered, his clothes covered with dust, his face and hands muddy, guynemer was exhausted. but the strongest of his comrades could not frighten him; on the contrary, he attacked these by preference. the masters were often obliged to intervene and separate the combatants. guynemer would then straighten up like a cock, his eyes sparkling and obtruding, and, unable to do more, would crush his adversary with piquant and sometimes cutting words uttered in a dry, railing voice."[ ] [footnote : unpublished notes by abbé chesnais.] talking, however, was not his forte, and his nervousness made him sputter. his speech was vibrant, trenchant, like hammerstrokes, and he said things to which there was no answer. he had a horror of discussion: he was already all action. this violence and frenzied action would have driven him to the most unreasonable and dangerous audacity if they had not been counterbalanced by his sense of honor. "he was one of those," wrote a comrade of guynemer's, m. jean constantin, now lieutenant of artillery, "for whom honor is sacred, and must not be disregarded under any pretext; and in his life, in his relations with his comrades, his candor and loyalty were only equaled by his goodness. often, in the midst of our games, some dispute arose. where are the friends who have never had a dispute? sometimes we were both so obstinate that we fought, but after that he was willing to renounce the privilege of the last word. he never could have endured bringing trouble upon his fellow-students. he never hesitated to admit a fault; and, what is much better, once when one of his comrades, who was a good student, had inadvertently made a foolish mistake which might have lowered his marks, i saw georges accuse himself and take the punishment in his place. his comrade never knew anything about it, for georges did that sort of thing almost clandestinely, and with the simplicity and modesty which were always the great charm of his character." this sense of honor he had drawn in with his mother's milk; and his father had developed it in him. everything about him indicated pride: the upright carriage of his head, the glance of his black eyes which seemed to pierce the objects he looked at. he loved the stanislas uniform which his father had worn before him, and which had been worn by gouraud and baratier, whose fame was then increasing, and rostand, then in all the new glory of _cyrano_ and _l'aiglon_. he had an exact appreciation of his own dignity. though he listened attentively in class, he would never ask for information or advice from his classmates. he hated to be trifled with, and made it understood that he intended to be respected. never in all his life did he have a low thought. if he ever varied from the nobleness which was natural to him, silence was sometimes sufficient to bring him to himself. with a mobile face, full of contrasts, he was sometimes the roguish boy who made the whole class shake with laughter, and involved it in a whirlwind of games and tricks, and at others the serious, thoughtful pupil, who was considered to be self-absorbed, distant, and not inclined to reveal himself to anybody. the fierce soldier of the _petite guerre_ was also a formidable adversary at checkers. here, however, he became patient, only moving his pieces after long reflection. none of the students could beat him, and no one could take him by surprise. if he was beaten by a professor, he never rested until he had had his revenge. his power of will was far beyond his years, but it needed to be relaxed. to study and win to the head of his class was nothing for his lively intelligence, but his health was always delicate. he would appear wrapped in cloaks, comforters, waterproof coats, and then vanish into the infirmary. this boy who did not fear blows, bruises, or falls, was compelled to avoid draughts and to diet. nobody ever heard him complain, nor was any one ever to do so. often he had to give up work for whole months at a time; and in his baccalaureate year he was stopped by a return of the infantile enteritis. "three months of rest," the doctor ordered at christmas. "you will do your rhetoric over again next year," said his father, who came to take him home. "not at all," said the boy; "the boys shall not get ahead of me"--a childish boast which passed unnoticed. at the end of three months of rest and pleasant walks around compiègne, the child remarked: "the three months are up, and i mean to present myself in july." "you haven't time; it is impossible." he insisted. so they discovered, at compiègne, the pierre d'ailly school, in a building which since then has been ruined by a shell. it was his idea to attend these classes as a day scholar, just for the pleasure of it. he promised to continue to take care of himself at home. and in the month of july, at the age of fifteen, he took his bachelor degree, with mention. but the bow cannot long remain bent, and hence certain diversions of his, ending sometimes in storms, but not caused by any ill-will on his part, for it was repugnant to him to give others pain. the following autumn he returned to stanislas college, and resumed his school exploits. "vexed to find that a place had been reserved for him near the professor, under the certainly justified pretext that he was too much inclined to talk," again writes abbé chesnais, "he was resolved to talk all the same, whenever he pleased. with the aid of pins, pens, wires and boxes, he soon set up a telephone which put him into communication with the boy whose desk was farthest away. he possessed tools necessary for any of his tricks, and his desk was a veritable bazaar: copybooks, books, pen-holders and paper were mixed pell-mell with the most unlikely objects, such as fragments of fencing foils, drugs, chemical products, oil, grease, bolts, skate wheels, and tablets of chocolate. in one corner, carefully concealed, were some glass tubes which awaited a favorable moment for projecting against the ceiling a ball of chewed paper. attached to this ball, a paper personage cut out of a copybook cover danced feverishly in space. when this grotesque figurine became quiet, another paper ball, shot with great skill, renewed the dancing to the great satisfaction of the young marksman. airplanes made of paper were also hidden in this desk, awaiting the propitious hour for launching them; and the professor's desk sometimes served as their landing place.... everything, indeed, was to be found there, but in such disorder that the owner himself could never find them. who has not seen him hunting for a missing exercise in a copybook full of scraps of paper? it is time to go to class; with his head hidden in his desk, he turns over all its contents in great haste, upsetting a badly closed ink-bottle over his books and copybooks. the master calls him to order, and he rushes out well behind all the rest of the boys. "he was not one of those ill-intentioned boys whose sole idea is to disturb the class and hinder the work of his comrades. nor was he a ringleader. he acted entirely on his own account, and for his own satisfaction. his practical jokes never lasted long, and did not interrupt the work of others. his upright, frank and honest nature always led him to acknowledge his own acts when the master attributed them by mistake to the wrong boys. he never allowed any comrade to take his punishment for him, but he knew very well how to extricate himself from the greatest difficulties. his candor often won him some indulgence. if he happened to be punished by a timorous master, he assumed a terrible facial expression and tried to frighten him. but when, on the contrary, he found himself in the presence of a man of energy, he pleaded extenuating circumstances, and persevered until he obtained the least possible punishment. he never resented the infliction of just punishment, but suffered very much when punished in public. on the day when the class marks were read aloud, if he suspected that his own were to be bad, he took refuge in the infirmary to avoid the shame of public exposure. honor, for him, was not a vain word. "he was very sensitive to reproaches. he was an admirer of courage, audacity, anything generous. who at stanislas does not remember his proud and haughty attitude when a master vexed him in presence of his classmates, or interfered to end a quarrel in which his own self-respect was at stake? all his nerves were stretched; his body stiffened, and he stood as straight as a steel rod, his arms pressed against his legs, his fists tightly closed, his head held high and rigid, and his face as yellow as ivory, with its smooth forehead, and his compressed lips cutting two deep lines around his mouth; his eyes, fixed like two black balls, seemed to start from the sockets, shooting fire. he looked as if he were about to destroy his adversary with lightning, but in reality he retained the most imperturbable sang-froid. he stood like a marble statue, but it was easy to divine the storm raging within...."[ ] [footnote : unpublished notes by abbé chesnais.] his tendency, after taking his bachelor's degree, was towards science; he was ambitious to enter the École polytechnique, and joined the special mathematics class. even when very young he had shown particular aptitude for mechanics, and a gift for invention which we have seen exercised in his practical jokes as a student. when he was only four or five years old he constructed a bed out of paper, which he raised by means of cords and pulleys. "he passed whole hours," says his stanislas classmate, lieutenant constantin, "in trying to solve a mathematical problem, or studying some question which had interested him, without knowing what went on around him; but as soon as he had solved his problem, or learned something new, he was satisfied and returned to the present. he was particularly interested in everything connected with the sciences. his greatest pleasure was to make experiments in physics or chemistry: he tried everything which his imagination suggested. once he happened to produce a detonating mixture which made a formidable explosion, but nothing was broken except a few windows." his choice of reading revealed the same tendency. he was not fond of reading, and only liked books of adventure which were food for his warlike sentiments and his ideas of honor and honesty. he preferred the works of major driant, and re-read them even during his mathematical year. returning from a walk one thursday evening, he knocked on the prefect's door to ask for a book. he wanted _la guerre fatale_, _la guerre de demain_, _l'aviateur du pacifique_, etc. "but you have already read them." "that does not matter." did he really re-read them? his dreams were always the same, and his eyes looked into the future. somebody, however, was to exert over this impressionable, mobile, almost too ardent nature, an influence which was to determine its direction. his father had advised him to choose his friends with care, and not yield himself to the first comer. he was not only incapable of doing that, but equally incapable of yielding himself to anybody. do we really choose our friends in early life? we only know our friends by finding them in our lives when we need them. they are there, but we have not sought them. a similarity of taste, of sensibility, of ambitions draw us to them, and they have been our friends a long time already before we perceive that they are not merely comrades. thus jean krebs became the constant companion of georges guynemer. the father of jean krebs is that colonel krebs whose name is connected with the first progress made in aërostation and aviation. he was then director of the panhard factories, and his two sons were students at stanislas. jean, the elder, was guynemer's classmate. he was a silent, self-centered, thoughtful student, calm in speech and facial expression, never speaking one word louder than another, and the farthest possible removed from anything noisy or agitated. georges broke in upon his solitude and attached himself to him, while krebs endured, smiled, and accepted, and they became allies. it was krebs, for the time, who was the authority, the one who had prestige and wore the halo. why, he knew what an automobile was, and one sunday he took his friend georges to ivry and taught him how to drive. he taught him every technical thing he knew. georges launched with all his energy into this new career, and soon became acquainted with every motor in existence. during the school promenades, if the column of pupils walked up or down the champs elysées, he told them the names of passing automobiles: "that's a lorraine. there is a panhard. this one has so many horsepower," etc. woe to any who ventured to contradict him. he looked the insolent one up and down, and crushed him with a word. he was overjoyed when the college organized thursday afternoon visits to factories. he chose his companions in advance, sometimes compelling them to give up a game of tennis. krebs was one of them. for georges the visits to the puteaux and dion-bouton factories were a feast of which he was often to speak later. he went, not as a sightseer, but as a connoisseur. he could not bring himself to remain with the engineer who showed the party through the works. he required more liberty, more time to investigate everything for himself, to see and touch everything. the smallest detail interested him; he questioned the workmen, asking them the use of some screw, and a thousand other things. the visit was too soon over for him; and when his comrades had already left, and the division prefect was calling the roll to make sure of all his boys, guynemer as usual was missing, and was discovered standing in ecstasy before a machine which some workmen were engaged in setting up. "the opening weeks of the automobile and aviation exhibition were a period of comparative tranquillity for his masters, as guynemer was no longer the same restless, nervous, mischievous boy, being too anxious to retain his privileges for the promenades. he was always one of those who haunted the prefect when the hour for departure drew near. he was impatient to know where they were to go: 'where are we going?... shall you take us to the grand palais? (the automobile and aviation exhibition).... wouldn't you be a brick!...' when they arrived, he was not one of those many curious people who circulate aimlessly around the stands with their hands in their pockets, without reaping anything but fatigue, like a cyclist on a circular track. his plans were all made in advance, and he knew where the stand was which he meant to visit. he went directly there, where his ardor and his free and easy behavior drew upon him the admonitions of the proprietor. but nothing stopped him, and he continued to touch everything, furnishing explanations to his companions. when he returned to the college his pockets bulged with prospectuses, catalogues, and selected brochures, which he carefully added to the heterogeneous contents of his desk."[ ] [footnote : unpublished notes by abbé chesnais.] jean krebs crystallized georges guynemer's vocation. he developed and specialized his taste for mechanics, separating it from vague abstractions and guiding it towards material realities and the wider experiences these procure. he deserves to be mentioned in any biography of guynemer, and before passing on, it is proper that his premature loss should be cited and deplored. highly esteemed as an aviator during the war, he made the best use of his substantial and reliable faculties in the work of observation. airplane chasing did not attract him, but he knew how to use his eyes. he was killed in a landing accident at a time almost coincident with the disappearance of guynemer. one of his escadrille mates described him thus: "with remarkable intelligence, and a perfectly even disposition, his chiefs valued him for his sang-froid, his quick eye, his exact knowledge of the services he was able to perform. every time a mission was intrusted to him, everybody was sure that he would accomplish it, no matter what conditions he had to meet. he often had to face enemy airplanes better armed than his own, and in the course of a flight had been wounded in the thigh by an exploding shell. nevertheless he had continued to fly, only returning considerably later when his task was done. his death has left a great void in this escadrille. men like him are difficult to replace...." thus the immoderate guynemer had for his first friend a comrade who knew exactly his own limits. guynemer could save jean krebs from his excess of literal honesty by showing him the enchantment of his own ecstasies, but jean krebs furnished the motor for guynemer's ambitious young wings. without the technical lessons of jean krebs, could guynemer later have got into the aviation field at pau, and won so easily his diploma as pilot? would he have applied himself so closely to the study of his tools and the perfecting of his machine? the war was to make them both aviators, and both of them fell from the sky, one in the fullness of glory, the other almost obscure. when they talked together on school outings, or as they walked along beside the walls of stanislas, had they ever foreseen this destiny? certainly not jean krebs, with his positive spirit; he only saw ahead the École polytechnique, and thought of nothing but preparation for that. but guynemer? in his very precious notes, abbé chesnais shows us the boy constructing a little airplane of cloth, the motor of which was a bundle of elastics. "at the next recreation hour, he went up to the dormitory, opened a window, launched his machine, and presided over its evolutions above the heads of his comrades." but these were only the games of an ingenious collegian. the worthy priest, who was division prefect, and watched the boy with a profound knowledge of psychology, never received any confidence from him regarding his vocation. aviation, whose first timid essays began in , progressed rapidly. after santos dumont, who on november , , covered meters while volplaning, a group of inventors--blériot, delagrange, farman, wright--perfected light motors. in blériot crossed the channel, paulhan won the height record at meters, and farman the distance record over a course of kilometers. a visionary, viscomte melchior de vogué, had already foreseen the prodigious development of air-travel. all the young people of the time longed to fly. guynemer, studying the new invention with his customary energy, could hardly do otherwise than share the general infatuation. his comrades, like himself, dreamed of parts of airplanes and their construction. but the idea of lieutenant constantin is different: "when an airplane flew over the quarter, guynemer followed it with his eyes, and continued to gaze at the sky for some time after its disappearance. his desk contained a whole collection of volumes and photographs concerning aviation. he had resolved to go up some day in an airplane, and as he was excessively self-willed he tried to bring this about by every means in his power. 'don't you know anybody who could take me up some sunday?' of whom has he not asked this question? but at college it was not at all easy, and it was during vacation that he succeeded in carrying out his project. if i am not mistaken, his first ascension was at the aërodrome of compiègne. at that time the comfortable cockpits of the modern airplanes were unknown, and the passenger was obliged to place himself as best he could behind the pilot and cling to him by putting his arms around him in order not to fall, so that it was a relief to come down again!..." the noticeable sentence in these notes is the first one: _when an airplane flew over the quarter, he followed it with his eyes, and continued to gaze at the sky for some time after its disappearance._ if jean krebs had survived, he could perhaps enlighten us still further; but, even to this reasonable friend, could guynemer have revealed what was still confused to himself? jean constantin only saw him once in a reverie; and guynemer must have kept silent about his resolutions. soon afterwards, as guynemer was obliged once more to renounce his studies--and this was the year in which he was preparing for the polytechnique--his father left him with his grandmother in paris, to rest. during this time he went to lectures on the social sciences, finally completing his education, which was strictly french, not one day having been passed with any foreign teacher. after this he traveled with his mother and sisters, leading the life of the well-to-do young man who has plenty of time in which to plan his future. was he thinking of his future at all? the question occurred to his father who, worried at the thought of his son's idleness, recalled him and interrogated him as to his ideas of a future career, fully expecting to receive one of those undecided answers so often given by young men under similar circumstances. but georges replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and no other could ever have been considered: "aviator." this reply was surprising. what could have led him to a determination apparently so sudden? "that is not a career," he was told. "aviation is still only a sport. you travel in the air as a motorist rides on the highways. and after passing a few years devoted to pleasure, you hire yourself to some constructor. no, a thousand times no!" then he said to his father what he had never said to anybody, and what his comrade constantin had merely suspected: "that is my sole passion. one morning in the courtyard at stanislas i saw an airplane flying. i don't know what happened to me: i felt an emotion so profound that it was almost religious. you must believe me when i ask your permission to be an aviator." "you don't know what an airplane is. you never saw one except from below." "you are mistaken; i went up in one at corbeaulieu." corbeaulieu was an aërodrome near compiègne; and these words were spoken a very few months before the war. * * * * * many years before georges guynemer was a student at stanislas, a professor, who was also destined to become famous, taught rhetoric there. his name was frédéric ozanam. he too had been a precocious child, prematurely sure of his vocation for literature. when only fifteen he had composed in latin verse an epitaph in honor of gaston de foix, dead at ravenna. this epitaph, if two words are changed--_hispanae_ into _hostilis_, and _gaston_ into _georges_--describes perfectly the short and admirable career of guynemer. even the palms are included: fortunate heros! moriendo in saecula vives. eia, agite, o socii, manibus profundite flores, lilia per tumulum, violamque rosamque recentem spargite; victricis armis superaddite lauros, et tumulo tales mucrone inscribite voces: hic jacet hostilis gentis timor et decus omne gallorum, georgius, conditus ante diem: credidit hunc lachesis juvenem dum cerneret annos, sed palmas numerans credidit esse senem.[ ] it is a paraphrase of the reply of the gods to the young pallas, in virgil. [footnote : fortunate hero! thou diest, but thou shalt live forever! come, my companions! strew flowers and lilies over the tomb! violets and young roses scatter; heap up laurels upon his arms, and on the stone write with the point of your sword: here lieth one who was the terror of the enemy, and the glory of the french, george, taken before his time. lachesis from his face thought him a boy, but counting his victories she thought him full of years.] this young frédéric ozanam died in the full vigor of manhood before having attained his fortieth year, of a malady which had already foretold his death. at that time he seemed to have achieved perfect happiness; it was the supreme moment when everything succeeds, when the difficult years are almost forgotten, and the road mounts easily upward. he had in his wife a perfect companion, and his daughter was a lovable young girl. his reputation was growing; he was soon to be received by the academy, and fortune and fame were already achieved. and then death called him. truly the hour was badly chosen--but when is it chosen at the will of mortals? ozanam tried to win pity from death. in his private journal he notes death's approach, concerning which he was never deceived; and he asks heaven for a respite. to propitiate it, he offers a part of his life, the most brilliant part; he is willing to renounce honors, fame, and fortune, and will consent to live humbly and be forgotten, like the poor for whom he founded the _conférences de saint-vincent de paul_, and whom he so often visited in their wretched lodgings; but let him at least dwell a little longer in his home, that he may see his daughter grow up, and pass a few years more with the companion of his choice. finally, he is impassioned by his faith, he no longer reasons with heaven, but says: "take all according to thy wish, take all, take myself. thy will be done...." rarely has the drama of acceptance of the divine will been more freely developed. now, in the drama which was to impassion guynemer even to complete sacrifice, it is not the vocation of aviator that we should remark, but the absolute will to serve. abbé chesnais, who does not attach primary importance to the vocation, has understood this well. at the end of his notes he reminds us that guynemer was a believer who accomplished his religious exercises regularly, without ostentation and without weakness. "how many times he has stopped me at night," he writes, "as i passed near his bed! he wanted a quiet conscience, without reproach. his usual frivolity left him at the door of the chapel. he believed in the presence of god in this holy place and respected it.... his christian sentiments were to be a sustaining power in his aërial battles, and he would fight with the more ardor if his conscience were at peace with his god...." these words of abbé chesnais explain the true vocation of guynemer: "the chances of war brought out marvelously the qualities contained in such a frail body. in the beginning did he think of becoming a pilot? perhaps. but what he wanted above everything was to fulfil his duty as a frenchman. he wanted to be a soldier; he was ashamed of himself, he said, in the first days of september, : 'if i have to sleep in the bottom of an automobile truck, i want to go to the front. i will go.'" he was to go; but neither love of aviation nor love of fame had anything to do with his departure, as they were to have nothing to do with his final fate. iii. the departure in the month of july, , georges guynemer was with his family at the villa delphine, biarritz, in the northern part of the anglet beach. this beach is blond with sunshine, but is refreshed by the ocean breezes. one can be deliciously idle there. this beach is besides an excellent landing-place for airplanes, because of the welcome of its soft sand. georges guynemer never left the anglet beach, and every time an airplane descended he was there to receive it. he was the aviation sentry. but at this period airplanes were rare. guynemer had his own thoughts, and tenacity was one of his dominant traits; he was already one of those who never renounce. the bathers who passed this everlasting idler never suspected that he was obstinately developing one single plan, and hanging his whole future upon it. meanwhile the horizon of europe darkened. ever since the assassination of the archduke ferdinand of austria, at sarajevo, electricity had accumulated in the air, and the storm was ready to burst. to this young man, the archduke and the european horizon were things of nothing. the sea-air was healthful, and he searched the heavens for invisible airplanes. the conversations in progress all around him were full of anxiety; he had no time to listen to them. the eyes of the women began to be full of pain; he did not notice the eyes of women. on the second of august the order for mobilization was posted. it was war! then guynemer rid himself of his dream, as if it were something unreal, and broke off brusquely all his plans for the future. he was entirely possessed by another idea, which made his eyes snap fire, and wrinkled his forehead. he rushed to his father and without taking breath announced: "i am going to enlist." "you are lucky." "well, then, you authorize me...." "i envy you." he had feared to be met with some parental objection on account of the uncertain health which had so often thwarted him, and had postponed his preparation for the École polytechnique. now he felt reassured. next day he was at bayonne, getting through all the necessary formalities. he was medically examined--and postponed. the doctors found him too tall, too thin--no physiological defect, but a child's body in need of being developed and strengthened. in vain he supplicated them; they were pitiless. he returned home grieved, humiliated, and furious. the villa delphine was to know some very uncomfortable days. his family understood his determination and began to have fears for him. and he returned to the charge, and attacked his father with insistence, as if his father were all-powerful and could, if he would, compel them to accept his son's services for _la patrie_. "if you would help me, i should not be put off." "but how?" "a former officer has connections in the army. you could speak for me." "very well, i will." m. guynemer, in his turn, went to bayonne. from that date, indeed from the first day of war, he had promised himself never to set obstacles in the way of his son's military service, but to favor it upon all occasions. he kept his word, as we shall see later, at whatever cost to himself. the recruiting major listened to his request. it was the hour of quick enthusiasms, and he had already sustained many assaults and resisted many importunities. "monsieur," he now said, "you may well believe that i accept all who can serve. i speak to you as a former officer: does your conscience assure you that your son is fit to carry a knapsack and be a foot-soldier?" "i could not say that he is." "would he make a cavalryman?" "he can't ride on account of his former enteritis." "then you see how it is; it's proper to postpone him. build him up, and later on he'll be taken. the war is not finished." as georges had been present at this interview, he now saw himself refused a second time. he returned with his father to biarritz, pale, silent, unhappy, and altogether in such a state of anger and bitterness that his face was altered. nothing consoled him, nothing amused him. on those magnificent august days the sea was a waste of sunshine, and the beach was an invitation to enjoy the soft summer hours; but he did not go to the beach, and he scorned the sea. his anxious parents wondered if, for the sake of his health, it would not be easier to see him depart. as for them, it was their fate to suffer in every way. ever since the mobilization, georges guynemer had had only one thought: to serve--to serve, no matter where, no matter how, no matter in what branch of the service, but to leave, to go to the front, and not stay there at biarritz like those foreigners who had not left, or like those useless old men and children who were now all that remained of the male population. many trains had carried off the first recruits, trains decorated with flowers and filled with songs. the sons of france had come running from her farthest provinces, and a unanimous impulse precipitated them upon the assaulted frontier. but this impulse was perfectly controlled. the songs the men sang were serious and almost sacred. the nation was living through one of her greatest hours, and knew it. with one motion she regained her national unity, and renewed once more her youth. meanwhile the news that sifted in, little by little, caused intense anguish--anguish, not doubt. the government had left paris to establish itself at bordeaux. the capital was menaced. the enemy had entered compiègne. compiègne was no longer ours. the joan of arc on the _place_ of the hôtel de ville had _pickelhauben_ on her men-at-arms. and then the victory of the marne lifted the weight that oppressed every heart. at the villa delphine news came that compiègne was saved. meanwhile trains left carrying troops to reinforce the combatants. and georges guynemer had to live through all these departures, suffering and rebelling until he had a horror of himself. his comrades and friends were gone, or had asked permission to go. his two first cousins, his mother's nephews, guy and rené de saint quentin, had gone; one, a sergeant, was killed at the battle of the marne, the other, councilor to the embassy at constantinople, returning in haste when war was declared, had taken his place as lieutenant of reserves, and had been twice wounded at the marne, by a ball in the shoulder and a shrapnel bullet in the thigh. was it possible for him to stay there alone when the whole of france had risen? in the _chanson d'aspremont_, which is one of our most captivating _chansons de geste_, charlemagne is leaving for italy with his army, and passes by laon. in the donjon five children, one of whom is his nephew roland, are imprisoned under the care of turpin. the emperor, who knows them well, has had them locked up for fear they would join his troops. but when they hear the ivory horns sounding and the horses neighing, they are determined to escape. they try to cajole the porter, but he is adamant and incorruptible. this faithful servitor is immediately well beaten. they take away his keys, pass over his body, and are soon out of the prison. but their adventures are only beginning. to procure themselves horses they attack and unhorse five bretons, and to get arms they repeat the same process. they are so successful that they manage to join the emperor's army before it has crossed the alps. will our new roland allow himself to be outdistanced by these terrible children of former ages? it is not the army with its ivory horns that he has heard departing, but the whole marching nation, fighting to live and endure, and to enable honor and justice and right to live and endure with her. so we find guynemer once more on the anglet beach, sad and discomfited. an airplane capsizes on the sand. what does he care about an airplane--don't they know that his old passion and dream are dead? since august he has not given them a thought. however, he begins a conversation with the pilot, who is a sergeant. and all at once a new idea takes possession of him; the old passion revives again under another form; the dream rises once more. "how can one enlist in the aviation corps?" "arrange it with the captain; go to pau." georges runs at once to the villa delphine. his parents no longer recognize the step and the face of the preceding days; he looks like their son again; he is saved. "father, i want to go to pau to-morrow." "why this trip to pau?" "to enlist in the aviation corps. before the war you wouldn't hear of my being an aviator, but in war aviation is no longer a sport." "in war--yes, it is certainly quite another thing." next day he reached pau, where captain bernard-thierry was in command of the aviation camp. he forced his way through captain bernard-thierry's door, over the expostulations of the sentries. he explained his case and pleaded his cause with such fire in his eyes that the officer was dazed and fascinated. from the tones of the captain's voice, when he referred to the two successive rejections, guynemer knew he had made an impression. as he had done at stanislas when he wanted to soften some punishment inflicted by his master, so now he brought every argument to bear, one after another; but with how much more ardor he made this plea, for his future was at stake! he bewitched his hearer. and then suddenly he became a child again, imploring and ready to cry. "captain, help me--employ me--employ me at anything, no matter what. let me clean those airplanes over there. you are my last resource. it must be through you that i can do something at last in the war." the captain reflected gravely. he felt the power hidden in this fragile body. he could not rebuff a suppliant like this one. "i can take you as student mechanician." "that's it, that's it; i understand automobiles." guynemer exulted, as jean krebs' technical lessons flashed already into his mind; they would be of great help in his work. the officer gave him a letter to the recruiting officer at bayonne, and he went back there for the third time. this time his name was entered, he was taken, and he signed a voluntary engagement. this was on november , . there was no need for him to explain to the family what had occurred when he returned to the villa delphine: he was beaming. "you are going?" said his mother and sisters. "surely." next day he made his _début_ at the aviation camp at pau as student mechanician. he had entered the army by the back door, but he had got in. the future knight of the air was now the humblest of grooms. "i do not ask any favors for him," his father wrote to the captain. "all i ask is that he may perform any services he is capable of." he had to be tried and proved deserving, to pass through all the minor ranks before being worthy to wear the _casque sacré_. the petted child of compiègne and the villa delphine had the most severe of apprenticeships. he slept on the floor, and was employed in the dirtiest work about camp, cleaned cylinders and carried cans of petroleum. in this _milieu_ he heard words and theories which dumbfounded him, not knowing then that men frequently do not mean all that they say. on november , he wrote abbé chesnais: "i have the pleasure of informing you that after two postponements during a vain effort to enlist, i have at last succeeded. _time and patience_ ... i am writing you in the mess, while two comrades are elaborating social theories...." would he be able to endure this workman's existence? his parents were not without anxiety. they hesitated to leave biarritz and return to their home in compiègne in the rue saint-lazare, on the edge of the forest. but, so far from being injured by manual labor, the child constantly grew stronger. in his case spirit had always triumphed over matter, and compelled it to obedience on every occasion. so now he followed his own object with indomitable energy. he took an airplane to pieces before mounting in it, and learned to know it in every detail. his preparation for the École polytechnique assured him a brilliant superiority in his present surroundings. he could explain the laws of mechanics, and tell his wonderstruck comrades what is meant by the resultant of several forces and the equilibrium of forces, giving them unexpected notions about kinematics and dynamics.[ ] from the laboratory or industrial experiments then being made, he acquired, on his part, a knowledge of the resisting power of the materials used in aviation: wood, steel, steel wires, aluminum and its composites, copper, copper alloys and tissues. he saw things made--those famous wings that were one day to carry him up into the blue--with their longitudinal spars of ash or hickory, their ribs of light wood, their interior bracing of piano wire, their other bracing wires, and their wing covering. he saw the workmen prepare all the material for mortise and tenon work, saw them attach the tension wires, fit in the ends of poles, and finally connect together all the parts of an airplane,--wings, rudders, motor, landing frame, body. as a painter grinds his colors before making use of them, so guynemer's prelude to his future flights was to touch with his hands--those long white hands of the rich student, now tanned and callous, often coated with soot or grease, and worthy to be the hands of a laborer--every piece, every bolt and screw of these machines which were to release him from his voluntary servitude. [footnote : see _Étude raisonnée de l'aéroplane_, by jules bordeaux, formerly student at École polytechnique (gauthier-billars, edition ).] one of his future comrades, _sous-lieutenant_ marcel viallet (who one day had the honor of bringing down two german airplanes in ten minutes with seven bullets), thus describes him at the pau school: "i had already had my attention drawn to this 'little girl' dressed in a private's uniform whom one met in the camp, his hands covered with castor oil, his face all stains, his clothes torn. i do not know what he did in the workshop, but he certainly did not add to its brilliance by his appearance. we saw him all the time hanging around the 'zincs.' his highly interested little face amused us. when we landed, he watched us with such admiration and envy! he asked us endless questions and constantly wanted explanations. without seeming to do so, he was learning. for a reply to some question about the art of flying, he would have run to the other end of the camp to get us a few drops of gasoline for our tanks...."[ ] [footnote : _le petit parisien_, september , .] he was learning, and when he saw his way clear, he wanted to begin flying. new year's day arrived--that sad new year's day of the first year of the war. what gifts would he ask of his father? he would ask for help to win his diploma as pilot. "don't you know somebody in your class at saint-cyr who could help me?" he always associated his father with every step he took in advance. the child had no fear of creating a conflict between his father's love for him and the service due to france: he knew very well that he would never receive from his father any counsel against his honor, and without pity he compelled him to facilitate his son's progress toward mortal danger. certain former classmates of m. guynemer's at saint-cyr had, in fact, reached the rank of general, and the influence of one of them hastened guynemer's promotion from student mechanician to student pilot (january , ). on this same date, guynemer, soldier of the d class, began his first journal of flights. the first page is as follows: _wednesday_, january : doing camp chores. _thursday_, " : ib. _friday_, " : lecture and camp chores. _saturday_, " : lecture at the blériot aërodrome. _sunday_, " : ib. aërodrome. _monday_, february : went out twenty minutes on blériot "roller." the blériot "roller," called the penguin because of its abbreviated wings, and which did not leave the ground, was followed on wednesday, february , by a three-cylinder h.p. blériot, which rose only thirty or forty meters. these were the first ascensions before launching into space. then came a six-cylinder blériot, and ascensions became more numerous. finally, on wednesday, march , the journal records two flights of twenty minutes each on a blériot six-cylinder h.p., one at a height of meters, the other at , with tacking and volplaning descents. this time the child sailed into the sky. guynemer's first flight, then, was on march , . this journal, with its fifty pages, ends on july , , with the following statement: _friday_, july .--round at the front. attacked a group of four enemy airplanes and forced down one of them. attacked a second group of four airplanes, which immediately dispersed. chased one of the airplanes and fired about cartridges: the boche dived, and seemed to be hit. when i shot the last cartridges from the vickers, one blade of the screw was perforated with bullet-holes, the dislocated motor struck the machine violently and seriously injured it. volplaned down to the aërodrome of chipilly without accident. a marginal note states that the aëroplane which "seemed to be hit" was brought down, and that the english staff confirmed its fall. this victory of july , , on the somme, was guynemer's eleventh; and at that time he had flown altogether hours, minutes. this journal of fifty pages enables us to measure the distance covered. impassioned young people! you who in every department of achievement desire to win the trophies of a guynemer, never forget that your progress on the path to glory begins with "doing chores." canto ii launched into space i. the first victory the apprentice pilot, then, left the ground for the first time at the pau school on february , , in a three-cylinder blériot. but these were only short leaps, though sufficiently audacious ones. his monitor accused him of breakneck recklessness: "too much confidence, madness, fantastical humor." that same evening he wrote describing his impressions to his father: "before departure, a bit worried; in the air, wildly amusing. when the machine slid or oscillated i was not at all troubled, it even seemed funny.... well, it diverted me immensely, but it was lucky that _maman_ was not there.... i don't think i have achieved a reputation for prudence. i hope everything will go well; i shall soon know...." during february he made many experimental flights, and finally, on march , , went up meters. this won him next day a diploma from the aëro club, and the day following he wrote to his sister odette this hymn of joy--not long, but unique in his correspondence: "uninterrupted descent, volplaning for meters. superb view (sunset)...." "superb view (sunset)": in the hundred and fifty or two hundred letters addressed to his family, i believe this is the only landscape. slightly later, but infrequently, the new aviator gave a few details of observation, the accuracy of which lent them some picturesqueness; but in this letter he yielded to the intoxication of the air, he enjoyed flying as if it were his right. he experienced that sensation of lightness and freedom which accompanies the separation from earth, the pleasure of cleaving the wind, of controlling his machine, of seeing, breathing, thinking differently from the way he saw and thought and breathed on the land, of being born, in fact, into a new and solitary life in an enlarged world. as he ascended, men suddenly diminished in size. the earth looked as if some giant hand had smoothed its surface, diversified only by moving shadows, while the outlines of objects became stronger, so that they seemed to be cut in relief. the land was marked by geometrical lines, showing man's labor and its regularity, an immense parti-colored checker-board traversed by the lines of highroads and rivers, and containing islands which were forests and towns and cities. was it the chain of the pyrenees covered with snow which, breaking this uniformity, wrested a cry of admiration from the aviator? what shades of gold and purple were shed over the scene by the setting sun? his half-sentence is like a confession of love for the joy of living, violently torn from him, and the only avowal this blunt roland would allow himself. for the nature of his correspondence is somewhat surprising. read superficially, it must seem extremely monotonous; but when better understood, it indicates the writer's sense of oppression, of hallucination, of being bewitched. from that moment guynemer had only one object, and from its pursuit he never once desisted. or, if he did desist for a brief interval, it was only to see his parents, who were part of his life, and whom he associated with his work. his correspondence with them is full of his airplanes, his flights, and then his enemy-chasing. his letters have no beginning and no ending, but plunge at once into action. he himself was nothing but action. only that? the reader will ask. action was his reason for existing, his heart, his soul--action in which his whole being fastened on his prey. a long and minutiose training goes to the making of a good pilot. but the impatient guynemer had patience for everything, and the self-willed stanislas student became the hardest working of apprentices. his scientific knowledge furnished him with a method, and after his first long flights his progress was very rapid. but he wanted to master all the principles of aviation. as student mechanician he had seen airplanes built. he intended to make himself veritably part of the machine which should be intrusted to him. each of his senses was to receive the education which, little by little, would make it an instrument capable of registering facts and effecting security. his eyes--those piercing eyes which were to excel in raking the heavens and perceiving the first trace of an enemy at incalculable distances--though they could only register his motion in relation to the earth and not the air, could, at all events, inform him of the slightest deviations from the horizontal in the three dimensions: namely, straightness of direction, lateral and longitudinal horizontality, and accurately appreciate angular variations. when the motor slowed up or stopped, his ear would interpret the sound made by the wind on the piano wires, the tension wires, the struts and canvas; while his touch, still more sure, would know by the degree of resistance of the controlling elements the speed action of the machine, and his skillful hands would prepare the work of death. "in the case of the bird," says the _manual_, by m. maurice percheron, "its feathers connect its organs of stability with the brain; while the experienced aviator has his controlling elements which produce the movement he wishes, and inform him of the disturbing motions of the wind." but with guynemer the movements he wanted were never brought about as the result of reflex nervous action. at no time, even in the greatest danger, did he ever cease to govern every maneuver of his machine by his own thought. his rapidity of conception and decision was astounding, but was never mere instinct. as pilot, as hunter, as warrior, guynemer invariably controlled his airplane and his gun with his brain. this is why his apprenticeship was so important, and why he himself attached so much importance to it--by instinct, in this case. his nerves were always strained, but he worked out his results. behind every action was the power of his will, that power which had forced his entrance into the army, and itself closed the doors behind him, a prisoner of his own vocation. he familiarized himself with all the levers of the engine and every part of the controlling elements. when the obligatory exercises were finished, and his comrades were resting and idling, he remounted the airplane, as a child gets onto his rocking-horse, and took the levers again into his hands. when he went up, he watched for the exact instant for quitting the ground and sought the easiest line of ascension; during flights, he was careful about his position, avoiding too much diving, or nosing-up, maintaining a horizontal movement, making sure of his lateral and longitudinal equilibrium, familiarizing himself with winds, and adapting his motions to every sort of rocking. when he came down, and the earth seemed to leap up at him, he noted the angle and swiftness of the descent and found the right height at which to slow down. although his first efforts had been so clever that his monitors were convinced for a long time that he had already been a pilot, yet it is not so much his talent that we should admire as his determination. he was more successful than others because he wore himself out during the whole of his short life in trying to do better--to do better in order to serve better. he worked more than any one else; when he was not satisfied with himself he began all over again, and sought the cause of his errors. there are many other pilots as gifted as guynemer, but he possessed an energy which was extraordinary, and in this respect excelled all the rest. and there were no limits to the exercise of this energy. he gave his own body to complete so to speak, the airplane,--a centaur of the air. the wind that whistled through his tension wires and canvas made his own body vibrate like the piano wires. his body was so sensitive that it, too, seemed to obey the rudder. nothing that concerned his voyages was either unknown or negligible to him. he verified all his instruments--the map-holder, the compass, the altimeter, the tachometer, the speedometer--with searching care. before every flight he himself made sure that his machine was in perfect condition. when it was brought out of the hangar he looked it over as they look over race-horses, and never forgot this task. how would it be when he should have his own airplane? at pau he increased the number of his flights, and changed airplanes, leaving the blériot gnome for the morane. his altitudes at this time varied from to meters. going, on march , to the avord school, he went up on the th to a height of meters, and on april to . his flights became longer, and lasted one hour, then an hour and a half. the spiral descent from a height of meters, with the motor switched off, triangular voyages, the test of altitude and that of duration of flight, which were necessary for his military diploma, soon became nothing more to him than sport. in may nearly every day he piloted one passenger on an m.s.p. (morane-saunier-parasol). during all this period his record-book registers only one breakdown. finally, on may , he was sent to the general aviation reserves, and on the st made two flights in a nieuport with a passenger. this was the end of his apprenticeship, and on june corporal georges guynemer was designated as member of escadrille m.s. , which he joined next day at vauciennes. this m.s. was the future n. , the "ciogognes" or storks escadrille. it was already commanded by captain brocard, under whose orders it was destined to become illustrious. védrines belonged to it. _sous-lieutenant de cavalerie_ deullin joined it almost simultaneously with guynemer, whose friend he soon became. later, little by little, came heurtaux, de la tour, dorme, auger, raymond, etc., all the famous valiant knights of the escadrille, like the peers of france who followed roland over the spanish roads. this aviation camp was at vauciennes, near villers-cotterets, in the valois country with its beautiful forests, its chateaux, its fertile meadows, and its delicate outlines made shadowy by the humid vapor rising from ponds or woods. "complete calm," wrote guynemer on june , "not one sound of any kind; one might think oneself in the midi, except that the inhabitants have seen the beast at close range, and know how to appreciate us.... védrines is very friendly and has given me excellent advice. he has recommended me to his '_mecanos_,' who are the real type of the clever parisian, inventive, lively and good humored...." next day he gives some details of his billet, and adds: "i have had a _mitrailleuse_ support mounted on my machine, and now i am ready for the hunt.... yesterday at five o'clock i darted around above the house at or meters. did you see me? i forced my motor for five minutes in hopes that you would hear me." he had recently parted from his family, and a happy chance had brought him to fight over the very lines that protected his own home. the front of the sixth army to which he was attached, extending from ribécourt beyond the forest of laigue, passed in front of railly and tracy-le-val, hollowed itself before the enemy salient of moulin-sous-touvent, straightened itself again near autrèches and nouvron-vingré, covered soissons, whose very outskirts were menaced, was obliged to turn back on the left bank of the aisne where the enemy took, in january, , the bridge-head at condé, and vailly and chavonne, and crossed the river again at soupir which belonged to us. laon, la fère, coucy-le-château, chauny, noyon, ham, and péronne were the objects of his reconnoitering flights. war acts more poignantly, more directly upon a soldier whose own home is immediately behind him. if the front were pierced in the sector which had been intrusted to him, his own people would be exposed. so he becomes their sentinel. under such conditions, _la patrie_ is no longer merely the historic soil of the french people, the sacred ground every parcel of which is responsible for all the rest, but also the beloved home of infancy, the home of parents, and, for this collegian of yesterday, the scene of charming walks and delightful vacations. he has but just now left the paternal mansion; and, not yet accustomed to the separation, he visits it by the roads of the air, the only ones which he is now free to travel. he does not take advantage of his proximity to compiègne to go ring the familiar door-bell, because he is a soldier and respects orders; but, on returning from his rounds, he does not hesitate to turn aside a bit in order to pass over his home, indulging up there in the sky in all sorts of acrobatic caprioles to attract attention and prolong the interview. what lover was ever more ingenious and madder in his rendezvous? throughout all his correspondence he recalls his air visits. "you must have seen my head, for i never took my eyes off the house...." or, after an aërial somersault that filled all those down below with terror: "i am wretched to know that my veering the other day frightened _maman_ so much, but i did it so as to see the house without having to lean over the side of the machine, which is unpleasant on account of the wind...." or sometimes he threw down a paper which was picked up in count foy's park: "everything is all right." he thought he was reassuring his parents about his safety; but their state of mind can be conceived when they beheld, exactly over their heads, an airplane engaged apparently in performing a dance, while through their binoculars they could see the tiny black speck of a head which looked over its side. he had indeed a singular fashion of reassuring them! meanwhile, at vauciennes the newcomer was being tested. at first he was thought to look rather sickly and weak, to be somewhat reserved and distant, and too well dressed, with a "young-ladyish" air. he was known to be already an expert pilot, capable of making tail spins after barely three months' experience. but still the men felt some uncertainty about this youngster whom they dared not trifle with on account of his eyes, "out of which fire and spirit flowed like a torrent."[ ] later on they were to know him better. [footnote : saint-simon.] a legend was current as to the large quantity of "wood broken" by guynemer in his early days with the escadrille. this is radically untrue, and his notebook contradicts it. from the very first day the _débutant_ fulfilled the promise of his apprentice days. after one or two trial flights, he left for a scouting expedition on sunday, june , above the enemy lines, and there met three german airplanes. on the th he described what he had seen in a letter to his father.--his correspondence still included some description at that time, the earth still held his attention; but it was soon to lose interest for him.--"the appearance of tracy and quennevières," he wrote, "is simply unbelievable: ruins, an inextricable entanglement of trenches almost touching one another, the soil turned over by the shells, the holes of which one sees by thousands. one wonders how there could be a single living man there. only a few trees of a wood are left standing, the others beaten down by the "_marmites_,"[ ] and everywhere may be seen the yellow color of the literally plowed-up earth. it seems incredible that all these details can be seen from a height of over meters. i could see to a distance of or kilometers, and never lost sight of compiègne. saint-quentin, péronne, etc., were as distinct as if i were there...." [footnote : shells.] next day, the th, another reconnaissance, of which the itinerary was coucy, laon, la fère, tergnier, appily, vic-sur-aisne. not a cannon shot disturbed these first two expeditions. but danger lurked under this apparent security, and on the th he was saluted by shells, dropping quite near. it was his "baptism by fire," and only inspired this sentence _à la duguesclin_: "no impression, except satisfied curiosity." the following days were passed in a perfect tempest, and he only laughed. the new roland, the bold and marvelous knight, is already revealed in the letters to be given below. on the th he departed on his rounds, carrying, as observer, lieutenant de lavalette. his airplane was hit by a shell projectile in the right wing. on the th his machine returned with eight wounds, two in the right wing, four in the body, and in addition one strut and one longitudinal spar hit. on the th he returned from a reconnaissance with lieutenant colcomb during which his machine had been hit in the right wing, the rudder, and the body. but his notebook only contains statements of facts, and we have to turn to his correspondence for more details. "decidedly," he wrote on june to his sister odette, "the boches have quite a special affection for me, and the parts of my '_coucou_' serve me for a calendar. yesterday we flew over chauny, tergnier, laon, coucy, soissons. up to chauny my observer had counted shells; coucy shot to ; my observer estimated shots in all. all we heard was a rolling sound, and then the shells burst everywhere, below us, above, in front, behind, on the right and on the left, for we descended to take some photographs of a place which they did not want us to see. we could hear the shell-fragments whistling past; there was one that, after piercing the wing, passed within the radius of the propeller without touching it, and then to within fifty centimeters of my face; another entered by the same hole but stayed there, and i will send it to you. fragments also struck the rudder, and one the body." (his journal mentions more.) "my observer, who has been an observer from the beginning, says that he never saw a cannonade like that one, and that he was glad to get back again. at one moment a bomb-head of millimeters, which we knew by its shape and the color of its explosion, fell on us and just grazed us. in fact, we often see enormous shells exploding. it is very curious. on our return we met captain gerard, and my observer told him that i had astounding nerve; _zim, boum boum!_ he said he knew it.... i will send you a photograph of my '_coucou_' with its nine bruises: it is superb." the next day, june , it was his mother who received his confidences. the enemy had bombarded villers-cotterets with a long-distance gun which had to be discovered. on this occasion he took lieutenant colcomb as observer: "at coucy, terribly accurate cannonade: _toc, toc_, two projectiles in the right wing, one within a meter of me; we went on with our observations in the same place. suddenly a formidable crash: a shell burst to meters under the machine. result: three holes, one strut and one spar spoiled. we went on for five minutes longer observing the same spot, always encircled, naturally. returning, the shooting was less accurate. on landing, my observer congratulated me for not having moved or zig-zagged, which would have bothered his observation. we had, in fact, only made very slight and very slow changes of altitude, speed, and direction. compliments from him mean something, for nobody has better nerve. in the evening captain gerard, in command of army aviation, called me and said: 'you are a nervy pilot, all right; you won't spoil our reputation by lack of pluck--quite the contrary. for a beginner!--' and he asked me how long i had been a corporal. _y a bon._ my '_coucou_' is superb, with its parts all dated in red. you can see them all, for those underneath spread up over the sides. in the air i showed each hole in the wing, as it was hit, to the passenger, and he was enchanted, too. it's a thrilling sport. it is a bore, though, when they burst over our heads, because i cannot see them, though i can hear. the observer has to give me information in that case. just now, _le roi n'est pas mon cousin_...." lieutenant, now captain, colcomb, has completed this account. during the entire period of his observation, the pilot, in fact, did not make any maneuver or in any way shake the machine in order to dodge the firing. he simply sent the airplane a bit higher and calmly lowered it again over the spot to be photographed, as if he were master of the air. the following dialogue occurred: _the observer_: "i have finished; we can go back." _the pilot_: "lieutenant, do me the favor of photographing for me the projectiles falling around us." children have always had a passion for pictures; and the pictures were taken. the chasers and bombardiers in the history of aviation have attracted public attention to the detriment of their comrades, the observers, whose admirable services will become better known in time. it is by them that the battle field is exposed, and the preparations and ruses of the enemy balked: they are the eyes of the commanders, and also the friends of the troops. on april , , lieutenant robbe flew over the trenches of the mort-homme at meters, and brought back a detailed exposition of the entanglement of the lines. a year later, in nearly the same place, lieutenant pierre guilland, observer on board a biplane of the moroccan division, was forced down by three enemy airplanes just at the moment when his division, whose progress he was following in order to report it, started its attack on the corbeaux woods east of the mort-homme, on august , . he fell on the first advancing lines and was picked up, unconscious and mortally wounded, by an artillery officer who proceeded to carry out the aviator's mission. when the latter reopened his eyes--for only a short while--he asked: "where am i?"--"north of chattancourt, west of cumières."--"has the attack succeeded?"--"every object has been attained."--"ah! that's good, that's good." ... he made them repeat the news to him. he was dying, but his division was victorious. near frise, lieutenant sains, who had been obliged to land on july , , was rescued by the french army on july , after having hidden himself for three days in a shell-hole to avoid surrendering, his pilot, quartermaster de kyspotter, having been killed. during the battle of the aisne in april, , lieutenant godillot, whose pilot had also been killed, slid along the plane, sat on the knees of the dead pilot, and brought the machine back into the french lines. and captain méry, lieutenant viguier, lieutenant de saint-séverin, and fressagues, floret, de niort, and major challe, lieutenant boudereau, captain roeckel, and adjutant fonck--who was to become famous as a chaser--how many of these élite observers furthered the destruction wrought by the artillery, and aided the progress of the infantry! on october , , as the fog cleared away, i saw the airplane of the guyot de salins division fly over fort douaumont just at the moment when major nicolai's marines entered there.[ ] the airplane had descended so low into the mist that it seemed as if magnetically drawn down by the earth, and the observer, leaning over the edge, was clapping his hands to applaud the triumph of his comrades. the latter saw his gesture, even though they could not hear the applause, and cheered him--a spontaneous exchange of soldierly confidence and affection between the sky and the earth. [footnote : see _les captifs délivrés_.] almost exactly one year later, on october , , i saw the airplane of the same division hovering over the fort of the malmaison just as the giraud battalion of the th zouaves regiment took possession of it. at dawn it came to observe and note the site of the commanding officer's post, and to read the optical signals announcing our success. at each visit it seemed like the moving star of old, now guiding the new shepherds, the guardians of our dear human flocks--not over the stable where a god was born, but over the ruins where victory was born. * * * * * [illustration: the first flight in a blÉriot] later on captain colcomb spoke of guynemer as "the most sublime military figure i have ever been permitted to behold, one of the finest and most generous souls i have ever known." guynemer was not satisfied to be merely calm and systematically immovable, and to display sang-froid, though to an extraordinary degree. he amused himself by counting the holes in his wings, and pointing them out to the observer. he was furious when the explosions occurred outside his range of vision, because he was not resigned to missing anything. he seemed to juggle with the shrapnel. and after landing, he rushed off to his escadrille chief, captain brocard, took him by the arm, and never left him until he had drawn him almost by force to his machine, compelling him to put his fingers into the wounds, exulting meanwhile and fairly bounding with joy. captain, now major brocard, felt quite sure of him from that time, and referred to him later in these words: "very young: his extraordinary self-confidence and natural qualities will very soon make him an excellent pilot...." his curiosity, indeed, was satisfied; and to whom would he confide all the risks that he ran? his mother and his sisters, the hearts which were the most troubled about him, and whose peace and happiness he had carried off into the air. he never dreamed of the torment he caused them, and which they knew how to conceal from him. even the idea of such a thing never occurred to him. as they loved him, they loved him just as he was, in the raw. he was too young to dissimulate, too young to spare them. he knew nothing either of lies or of pity. he never thought that any one could suffer anguish about a son or a brother when this son and brother was himself supremely happy in his vocation. he was naïvely cruel. but the rounds and reconnaissances were not to hold him long; and he already scented other adventures. he had scented the odor of the beast, and he had his airplane furnished with a support for a machine-gun. that particular airplane, it is true, came to an untimely end in a ditch, but was already condemned by its body-frame, which was rotten with bullet holes. that was the only "wood" guynemer "broke" during his early flights. but his next airplane was also armed, and in the young pilot could already be plainly seen that taste for enemy-chasing which was to bewitch and take possession of him. though after this time he certainly carried over the lines lieutenant de lavalette, lieutenant colcomb and captain siméon, and always with equal calm, yet he aspired to other flights, further away from earth. lieutenant de beauchamp--the future captain de beauchamp, who was to die so soon after his audacious raids on essen and munich--divined what was hidden in this thin boy who was in such breathless haste to get on. he would not allow corporal guynemer to address him as lieutenant, feeling so surely his equality, and to-morrow perhaps his mastery. on july , , he sent him a little guide for aviators in a few lines: "be cautious. look well at what is happening around you before acting. invoke saint benoît every morning. but above all, write in letters of fire in your memory: _in aviation, everything not useful should be avoided._" oh, of course! the "little girl" laughed at the advice as he laughed at the tempest. he had an admiration for beauchamp, but when did a roland ever listen to an oliver? one day he went up in a wind of over meters, and even by nosing-up a bit he could hardly make any progress. with the wind behind him he made over kilometers. then he landed. védrines addressed a few warning remarks to him, and he was thought to be calmed. but off he went again before the frightened spectators. he would always do too much, and nothing could restrain him. the importance of the development of aviation in the war had been foreseen neither by the germans nor ourselves. if before the beginning of the campaign the military chiefs had understood all the services which would be rendered by aërial strategic scouting, the regulation of artillery fire would not have still been in an experimental stage. no one knew the help which was to be derived from aërial photography. the air duel was regarded simply as a possible incident that might occur during a patrol or a reconnaissance, and in view of which the observer or mechanician armed himself with a gun or an automatic pistol. airplanes armed with machine-guns were very exceptional, and at the end of there were only thirty. the germans used them generally before we did; but it was the french aviators, nevertheless, who forced the germans to fight in the air. i had the opportunity in october, , to see, from a hill on the aisne, one of these first airplane combats, which ended by the enemy falling on the outskirts of the village of muizon on the left bank of the vesle. the french champion bore the fine name of franc, and piloted a voisin. at that date it was not unusual to pick up messages dropped within our lines by enemy pilots, substantially to this effect: "useless for us to fight each other; there are enough risks without that...." meanwhile, strategic reconnaissance was perfected as the line of the front became firmly established, and more and more importance was accorded to the search for objectives. remarkable results were attained by air photography from december, ; and after january, , the regulation of artillery fire by wireless telegraphy was in general practice. it was necessary to protect the airplanes attached to army corps, and to clean up the air for their free circulation. this rôle devolved upon the most rapid airplanes, which were then the morane-saunier-parasols, and in the spring of these formed the first _escadrilles de chasse_, one for each army. garros, already popular before the war for having been the first air-pilot to cross the mediterranean, from saint-raphael to bizerto, forced down a large aviatik above dixmude in april, . a few days later a motor breakdown compelled him to land at ingelminster, north of courtrai, and he was made prisoner.[ ] the aviators, like the knights of ancient times, sent one another challenges. sergeant david--who was killed shortly after--having been obliged to refuse to fight an enemy airplane because his machine-gun jammed, dropped a challenge to the latter on the german aërodrome, and waited at the place, on the day and hour fixed, at vauquois (noon, in june, , above the german lines), but his adversary never came to the rendezvous. [footnote : the romantic circumstances under which he escaped in february, , are well known.] the maurice farman and caudron airplanes were used for observation. the voisin machines, strong but slower, were more especially utilized for bombardments, which began to be carried out by organized expeditions. the famous raids on the ludwigshafen factories and the karlsruhe railway station occurred in june, . it was at the battle of artois (may and june, ) that aviation for the first time constituted a branch of the army; and the work was chiefly done by the escadrilles belonging to the army corps, which rendered very considerable services as scouts and in aërial photography and destructive fire. but as an enemy chaser, the airplane was still regarded with much distrust and incredulity. some said it was useless; was it not sufficient that the airplanes of the army corps and those for bombardments could defend themselves? others of less extreme opinions thought it should be limited to the part of protector. this opposition was overcome by the sudden development of the german enemy-chasing airplanes after july, , subsequent to our raids on ludwigshafen and karlsruhe, which aroused furious anger in germany. in the beginning the belligerent nations had collected the most heterogeneous group of all the airplane models then available. but the methodical germans, without delay, supplied their constructors with definite types of machines in order to make their escadrilles harmonious. at that time they used monoplanes for reconnaissances, without any special arrangement for carrying arms, and incapable of carrying heavy weights; and biplanes for observation, unarmed, and possessing only a makeshift contrivance for launching bombs. the machines of both these series were two-seated, with the passenger in front. these were albatros, aviatiks, eulers, rumplers, and gothas. early in appeared the fokkers, which were one-seated, and new two-seated machines, aviatiks or albatros, which were more rapid, with the passenger at the rear, and furnished with a revolving turret for the machine-gun. the german troops engaged in aërostation, aviation, automobile and railway service were grouped as communication troops (_verkehrstruppen_), under the direction of the general inspection of military communications. it was not until the autumn of that the aërostation, aviation, and aërial defense troops were made independent and, under the title of _luftstreitkräfte_ (aërial combatant forces), took their position in the order of battle between the pioneers and the communication troops. but early in the summer of the progress realized in aviation resulted in its forming a separate branch of the army, with campaign and enemy-chasing escadrilles. guynemer was now on the straight road toward aërial combat. most of our pilots were still chasing enemy airplanes with one passenger armed with a simple musketoon. more circumspect than the others, guynemer had his airplane armed with a machine-gun. meanwhile the staff was preparing to reorganize the army escadrilles. the bold pégoud had several times fought with too enterprising fokkers or aviatiks; captain brocard had forced down one of them in flames over soissons; and the latest recruit of the escadrille, this youngster of a guynemer, was burning to have his own boche. the first entries in his notebook of flights for july, , record expeditions without result, in company with adjutant hatin, lieutenant de ruppiere, in the region of noyon, roye, ham, and coucy-le-château. on the th, the _chasseurs_ put to flight three albatros, while a more rapid fokker attempted an attack, but turned back having tried a shot at their machine-gun. on the th guynemer and hatin dropped bombs on the chauny railway station; during the bombardment an aviatik attacked them, they stood his fire, replying as well as they could with their musketoon, and returned to camp uninjured. adjutant hatin was decorated with the military medal. as hatin was a _gourmet_, guynemer went that same evening to le bourget to fetch two bottles of rhine wine to celebrate this family fête. at le bourget he tried the new nieuport machine, which was the hope of the fighting airplanes. finally, on july --memorable date--his journal records guynemer's first victory: "started with guerder after a boche reported at couvres and caught up with him over pierrefonds. shot one belt, machine-gun jammed, then unjammed. the boche fled and landed in the direction of laon. at coucy we turned back and saw an aviatik going toward soissons at about meters up. we followed him, and as soon as he was within our lines we dived and placed ourselves about meters under and behind him at the left. at our first salvo, the aviatik lurched, and we saw a part of the machine crack. he replied with a rifle shot, one ball hitting a wing, another grazing guerder's hand and head. at our last shot the pilot sank down on the body-frame, the observer raised his arms, and the aviatik fell straight downward in flames, between the trenches...." this flight began at meters in the air, and lasted ten minutes, the two combatants being separated by a distance of and sometimes meters. the statement of fact is characteristic of guynemer. an unforgettable sight had been imprinted on his eyes: the pilot sinking down in his cock-pit, the arms of the observer beating the air, the burning airplane sinking. such were to be his future landscape sketches, done in the sky. the wings of the bird of prey were unfurled definitely in space. the two fighting airmen had left vauciennes at two o'clock in the afternoon, and at quarter-past three they landed, conquerors, at carrière l'evêque. from their opposing camps the infantry had followed the fight with their eyes. the germans, made furious by defeat, cannonaded the landing-place. georges, who was too thin for his clothes, and whose leather pantaloons lined with sheepskin, which he wore over his breeches, slipped and impeded his walking, sat down under the exploding shells and calmly took them off. then he placed the machine in a position of greater safety, but broke the propeller on a pile of hay. during this time a crowd had come running and now surrounded the victors. artillery officers escorted them off, sentinels saluted them, a colonel offered them champagne. guerder was taken first into the commanding officer's post, and on being questioned about the maneuver that won the victory excused himself with modesty: "that was the pilot's affair." guynemer, who had stolen in, was willing to talk. "who is this?" asked the colonel. "that's the pilot." "you? how old are you?" "twenty." "and the gunner?" "twenty-two." "the deuce! there are nothing but children left to do the fighting." so, passed along in this manner from staff to staff, they finally landed at compiègne, conducted by captain siméon. no happiness was complete for guynemer if his home was not associated with it. "he will get the military medal," declared captain siméon, "because he wanted his boche and went after him." words of a true chief who knew his men. always to go after what he wanted was the basic characteristic of guynemer. and now various details concerning the combat came one by one to light. guerder had been half out of the machine to have the machine-gun ready to hand. when the gun jammed, georges yelled to his comrade how to release it. guerder, who had picked up his rifle, laid it down, executed the maneuver indicated by guynemer, and resumed his machine-gun fire. this episode lasted two minutes during which georges maintained the airplane under the aviatik, unwilling to change his position, as he saw that a recoil would expose them to the boche's gun. meanwhile védrines came in search of the victor, and piloted the machine back to head-quarters, with guynemer on board seated on the body and quivering with joy. with this very first victory guynemer sealed his friendship with the infantry, whom his youthful audacity had comforted in their trenches. he received the following letter, dated july , : lieutenant-colonel maillard, commanding the th infantry, to corporal pilot guynemer and mechanician guerder of escadrille m.s. , at vauciennes. the lieutenant-colonel, the officers, the whole regiment, having witnessed the aërial attack you made upon a german aviatik over their trenches, spontaneously applauded your victory which terminated in the vertical fall of your adversary. they offer you their warmest congratulations, and share the joy you must have felt in achieving so brilliant a success. maillard. on july the military medal was given to the two victors, guynemer's being accompanied by the following mention: "corporal guynemer: a pilot full of spirit and audacity, volunteering for the most dangerous missions. after a hot pursuit, gave battle to a german airplane, which ended in the burning and destruction of the latter." the decoration was bestowed on august at vauciennes by general dubois, then in command of the sixth army, and in presence of his father, who had been sent for. then guynemer paid for his newly won glory by a few days of fever. ii. from the aisne to verdun guynemer's first victory occurred on july , , and for his second he had to wait nearly six months. this was not because he had not been on the watch. he would have been glad to mount a nieuport, but, after all, he had had his boche, and at that time the exploit was exceptional: he had to be patient, and give his comrades a chance to do the same. when finally he obtained the longed-for nieuport, he flew sixteen hours in five days, and naturally went to parade himself over compiègne. without this dedication to his home, the machine would never be consecrated. when the overwork incident to such a life forced him to take a little repose, he wandered back to his home like a soul in pain. it was in vain that his parents and his two sisters--whom he called his "kids" as if he were their elder--exhausted their ingenuity to amuse him. this home he loved so much, which he left so recently, and returned to so happily, bringing with him his young fame, no longer sufficed him. though he was so comfortable there, yet on clear days the house stifled him. on such days he seemed like a school child caught in some fault: a little more and he would have condemned himself. then his sister yvonne, who had understood the situation, made a bargain with him. "what is it you miss here at home?" "something you cannot give me. or rather, yes, you can give it to me. promise me you will." "surely, if it will make you happy." "i shall be the happiest of men." "then it's granted in advance." "very well, this is it: every morning you must examine the weather. if it is bad, you will let me sleep." "and if it is fine?" "if it is fine, you will wake me up." his sister was afraid to ask more, as she guessed how he would use a fine day. as she was silent, he pretended to pout with that cajoling manner he could assume, and which fascinated everybody. "you won't do it? i could not stay home: _c'est plus fort que moi_." "but, i promise." and to keep him at home until he should be cured, more or less, the young girl opened her window every morning and inspected the sky, secretly hoping to find it thickly covered with clouds. "clouds, waiting over there, motionless, on the edge of the horizon, what are you waiting for? will you stand idle and let me awaken my brother, who is resting?" the clouds being indifferent, the sleeper had to be awakened. he dressed hastily, with a smile at the transparent sky, and soon reached vauciennes by automobile, where he called for his machine, mounted, ascended, flew, hunted the enemy, and returned to compiègne for luncheon. "and you can leave us like that?" remonstrated his mother. "why, this is your holiday." "yes, the effort to leave is all the greater." "well?--" "i like the effort, _maman_." his antigone forced herself to keep her bargain with him. the sun never shone above the forest in vain, but nevertheless she detested the sun. what a strange romeo this boy would have made! without the least doubt he would have charged juliet to wake him to go to battle, and would never have forgiven her for confounding the lark and the nightingale. on his return to the aviation camp, in the absence of his own longed-for victories, he took pleasure in describing those of others. he knew nothing of rivalry or envy. he wrote his sister odette the following description of a combat waged by captain brocard, who surprised a boche from the rear, approached him to within fifteen meters without being seen, and, just at the moment when the enemy pilot turned round his head, sent him seven cartridges from his machine-gun: "result: one ball in the ear, and another through the middle of his chest. you can imagine whether the fall of the machine was instantaneous or not. there was nothing left of the pilot but one chin, one ear, one mouth, a torso and material enough to reconstitute two arms. as to the "_coucou_" (burned), nothing was left but the motor and a few bits of iron. the passenger was emptied out during the fall...." it cannot be said that he had much consideration for the nerves of young girls. he treated them as if they were warriors who could understand everything relating to battles. he wrote with the same freedom that shakespeare's characters use in speech. until the middle of september he piloted two-seated airplanes, carrying one passenger, either as observer or combatant. at last he went up in his one-seated nieuport, reveling in the intoxication of being alone, that intoxication well known to lovers of the mountains and the air. is it the sensation of liberty, the freedom from all the usual material bonds, the feeling of coming into possession of these deserts of space or ice where the traveler covers leagues without meeting anybody, the forgetfulness of all that interferes with one's own personal object? such solitaries do not easily accommodate themselves to company which seems to them to encroach upon their domain, and steal a part of their enjoyment. guynemer never enjoyed anything so much as these lonely rounds in which he took possession of the whole sky, and woe to the enemy who ventured into this immensity, which was now his park. on september , and october , , he was sent on special missions. these special missions were generally confided to védrines, who had accomplished seven. the time is not yet ripe for a revelation of their details, but they were particularly dangerous, for it was necessary to land in occupied territory and return. guynemer's first mission required three hours' flying. he ascended in a storm, just as the countermand arrived owing to the unfavorable weather. when he descended, volplaning, at daybreak, with slackened, noiseless motor, and landed on our invaded territory, his heart beat fast. some peasants going to their work in the fields saw him as he ascended again, and recognizing the tricolor, showed much surprise, and then extended their hands to him. this mission won for sergeant guynemer--he had been promoted sergeant shortly before--his second mention: "has proved his courage, energy and sang-froid by accomplishing, as a volunteer, an important and difficult special mission in stormy weather."--"this palm is worth while," he wrote in a letter to his parents, "for the mission was hard." on his way back an english aviator shot at him, but on recognizing him signaled elaborate excuses. some rather exciting reconnaissances with captain siméon--one day over saint-quentin they were attacked by a fokker and, their machine-gun refusing to work, they were subjected to two hundred shots from the enemy at meters, then at meters, so that they were obliged to dive into a cloud, with one tire gone--and a few bombardments of railway stations and goods depots did not assuage his fever for the chase. nothing sufficed him but to explore and rake the heavens. on november , meters above chaulnes, he waged an epic combat with an l.v.g. (_luft-verkehr-gesellschaft_), h.p. having succeeded in placing himself three meters under his enemy, he almost laughed with the surety he felt of forcing him down, when his machine-gun jammed. he immediately banked, but he was so near the enemy that the machines interlocked. would he fall? a bit of his canvas was torn off, but the airplane held its own. as he drew away he saw the enormous enemy machine-gun aimed at him. a bullet grazed his head. he dived under the boche, who retreated. "all the same," guynemer added gaily, "if i ever get into a terrible financial fix and have to become a cab-driver, i shall have memories which are far from ordinary: a tire exploding at meters, an interlocking at meters. that rotten boche only owed his life to a spring being slightly out of order, as was shown by the autopsy on the machine-gun. for my eighth combat, this was decidedly annoying...." it was annoying, but what could be done? nothing, in fact, but return to one's apprenticeship. he was perfectly satisfied with his work as a pilot, but it was necessary to avoid these too frequent jammings which saved the enemy. at stanislas college guynemer was known as an excellent shot. he began to practice again with his rifle, and with the machine-gun; above all, he carefully examined every part of this delicate weapon, taking it apart and putting it together, and increasing his practice. he became a gunsmith. and there lies the secret of his genius: he never gave up anything, nor ever acknowledged himself beaten. if he failed, he began all over again, but after having sought the cause of his failure in order to remedy it. when he was asked one day to choose a device for himself, he adopted this, which completely expresses his character: _faire face_. he always faced everything, not only the enemy, but every object which opposed his progress. his determination compelled success. in the career of guynemer nothing was left to chance, and everything won by effort, pursuit, and implacable will. on sunday, december , , as he was making his rounds in the compiègne region, he saw two airplanes more than meters above chauny. as the higher one flew over bailly he sprang upon it and attacked it: at meters, fifteen shots from his machine-gun; at meters, thirty shots. the german fell in a tail spin, north of bailly over against the bois carré. guynemer was sure he had forced him down; but the other airplane was still there. he tacked in order to chase and attack him, but in vain, for his second adversary had fled. and when he tried to discover the spot where the first must have fallen, he failed to find it. this was really too much: was he going to lose his prey? suddenly he had an idea. he landed in a field near compiègne. it was sunday, and just noon, and he knew that his parents would be coming home from mass. he watched for them, and as soon as he perceived his father rushed to him: "father, i have lost my boche." "you have lost your boche?" "yes, an airplane that i have forced down. i must return to my escadrille, but i don't want to lose him." "what can i do?" "why, look for him and find him. he ought to be near bailly, towards the bois carré." and he vanished, leaving to his father the task of finding the lost airplane as a partridge is found in a field of lucerne. the military authority kindly lent its aid, and in fact the body of the german pilot was discovered on the edge of the bois carré, where it was buried. this victory was ratified, but a few days later the authorities, failing to find the necessary material proof, refused to give guynemer credit for it. ah, the regulations refuse the hunter this game? guynemer, turning very red, declared: "it doesn't matter, i will get another." he was always wanting another; and in fact he got one four days later, on december . this is the report in his notebook: "discovering the strategic line royne-nesle. while descending, saw a german airplane high, and far within its own lines. as it passed the lines at beuvraigne, i cut off its retreat and chased it. i caught up to it in five minutes, and fired forty-seven shots from my lewis from a point meters behind and under it. the enemy airplane, an l.v.g. h.p. probably, dived, caught fire, turned over, and, carried along by the west wind, fell on its back at beuvraigne. the passenger fell out at bus, the pilot at tilloloy...." when the victor landed at beuvraigne near his victim, the artillerymen belonging to a nearby battery of mm. guns ( th battery of the st regiment of artillery), and who were already crowding around the enemy's body, rushed upon and surrounded guynemer. but the commander, captain allain launay, mustered his men, ordered a salute to guynemer, made a speech to his command, and said: "we shall now fire a volley in honor of sergeant guynemer." the salvo demolished a small house where some boches had taken refuge. through the binoculars they could be seen to scatter when the first shell struck their shelter. "they owe that to me, too!" cried the enthusiastic urchin. meanwhile captain allain launay had patiently ripped the captain's stripes from his cap, and when he had finished handed them to guynemer: "promise me to wear them when you are appointed captain." this victory was not questioned, and there was even some discussion about making this youngster a knight of the legion of honor. but even when he had been promoted sergeant there had been some objection, owing to his youth. "nevertheless," guynemer had observed angrily, "i am not too young to be hit by the enemy's shells." this time another objection arose: if he receives the "cross" for this victory, what can be given him for succeeding ones? the proud little roland rebelled, revolted, rose up like a cock on its spurs. he did not see that everybody already foresaw his destiny. he would have his "cross," he would have it, and he would not wait long for it, either. he would know how to wring it out of them. six days later, december , with his comrade, the sober and calm bucquet, he attacked two fokkers, one of which was dashed to pieces in its fall, while the other damaged his own machine. a letter to his father described the combat in his own brief and direct manner, without a superfluous word: "combat with two fokkers. the first, trapped, and his passenger killed, dived upon me without having seen me. result: bullets at close quarters and '_couic_' [his finish]! the fall was seen by four other airplanes ( plus makes , and perhaps that will win me the 'cross'). then combat with the second fokker, a one-seated machine shooting through the propeller, as rapid and easily handled as mine. we fought at ten meters, both turning vertically to try to get behind. "my spring was slack: compelled to shoot with one hand above my head, i was handicapped; i was able to shoot twenty-one times in ten seconds. once we almost telescoped, and i jumped over him--his head must have passed within fifty centimeters of my wheels. that disgusted him; he went away and let me go. i came back with an intake pipe burst, one rocker torn away: the splinters had made a number of holes in my over-coat and two notches in the propeller. there were three more in one wheel, in the body-frame (injuring a cable), and in the rudder." all these accounts of the chase, cruel and clear, seem to breathe a savage joy and the pride of triumph. the sight of a burning airplane, of an enemy sinking down, intoxicated him. even the remains of his enemies were dear to him, like treasures won by his young strength. the shoulder-straps and decorations worn by his adversary who fell at tilloloy were given over to him; and achilles before the trophies of hector was not more arrogant. these combats in the sky, more than nine thousand feet above the earth, in which the two antagonists are isolated in a duel to the death, scarcely to be seen from the land, alone in empty space, in which every second lost, every shot lost, may cause defeat--and what a defeat! falling, burning, into the abyss beneath--in which they fight sometimes so near together, with short, unsteady thrusts, that they see each other like knights in the lists, while the machines graze and clash together like shields, so that fragments of them fall down like the feathers of birds of prey fighting beak to beak--these combats which require the simultaneous handling of the controlling elements and of the machine-gun, and in which speed is a weapon, why should they not change these young men, these children, into demi-gods? hercules, achilles, roland, the cid--where shall we find outside of mythology or the epics any prototypes for the wild and furious guynemer? on the day of his coming of age, december , --earlier than his ancestor under the empire--he received the cross of the legion of honor, with this mention: "pilot of great value, model of devotion and courage. has fulfilled in the past six months two special missions requiring the finest spirit of sacrifice, and has waged thirteen aërial combats, two of which ended in the enemy airplanes falling in flames." this mention was already behindhand, having been based upon the report dated december . to the two victories therein mentioned should be added those of the th and the th of december. decorated at the age of twenty-one, the enlisted mechanician of pau continued to progress at breakneck speed. the red ribbon, the yellow ribbon and green war medal with four palms, are very becoming to a young man's black coat. georges guynemer never despised these baubles, nor in any way concealed the pleasure they afforded him. he knew how high one has to climb to pick them. and he was eager for more and more, not because of vanity, but for what they signified. on the d and th of february, , new combats took place, always in the region of roy and chaulnes. on february he met three enemies within forty minutes, on the same round: "attacked at . an l.v.g., which replied with its machine-gun. fired shots at meters; the enemy airplane dived swiftly down to its own lines, smoking. lost to view at meters from the ground. at . attacked an l.v.g. (with parabellum) from behind, at meters; it tacked and dived spirally, pursued neck to neck at meters. it fell three kilometers from its lines. i rose again and lost sight of it. (this airplane had wings of the usual yellow color, its body was blue like the n., and its outlines seemed similar to that of the _monococques_.) at . attacked an l.v.g., which immediately dived into the clouds and disappeared. landed at amiens." he cleared the sky of every boche: one fallen and two put to flight is not a bad record. he always attacked. with his accurate eyes he tracked out the enemy in the mystery of space, and placing himself higher, tried to surprise him. on the th, near frise, he closed the road to another l.v.g. which was returning to its lines, attacked it from above in front, tacked over it, reached its rear, and overwhelmed it like a thunder-clap. the boche fell in flames between assevillers and herbécourt. one more victory, and this one had the honor of appearing in the official _communiqué_. sometimes he got back with his machine and his clothes riddled with bullet-holes. he carried fire and massacre up into the sky. and all this was nothing as yet but the exercise of a knight-errant in his infancy. this became evident later when he had acquired complete mastery of his work. february, --the month in which began the longest, the most stubborn and cruel, and perhaps the most significant battle of the great war. in this month began verdun, and the menacing german advance on the right of the meuse (february - ), to the wood of haumont, the wood of the caures and herbebois, then to samogneux, the wood of the fosses, the le chaume wood and ornes, and finally, on february , the attack on louvemont and douaumont. the escadrilles, little by little, headed in the same direction, and guynemer was about to leave the sixth army. he would dart no more above the paternal mansion, announcing his victories by his caracoles in the air; nor watch over his own household during his patrol of the region beyond compiègne, over noyon, chauny, coucy, and tracy-le-val. the cord which still linked him with his infancy and youth was now to be strained, and on march the storks escadrille received orders to depart next day, and to fly to the verdun region. the development of the german fighting airplanes had constantly progressed during . now, early in , they appeared at verdun, more homogeneous and better trained, and in possession of a series of new machines: small, one-seated biplanes (albatros, halberstadt, new fokker, and ago), with a fixed motor of - h.p. (mercédès, and more rarely benz and argus), and two stationary machine-guns firing through the propeller. these chasing escadrilles (_jagdstaffeln_) are essentially fighting units. each _jagdstaffel_ comprises eighteen airplanes, and sometimes twenty-two, four of which are reserves. these airplanes do not generally travel alone, at least when they have to leave their lines, but fly in groups (_ketten_) of five each, one of them serving as guide (_kettenfuhrer_), and conducted by the most experienced pilot, regardless of rank. german aviation tactics seek more and more to avoid solitary combat and replace it by squadron fighting, or to surprise an isolated enemy by a squadron, like an attack of sparrow-hawks upon an eagle. ever since the establishment of our first autonomous group of fighting airplanes, which figured in the artois offensives in may, , but which did not take the offensive (having their cantonments in the barriers and limiting themselves to keeping off the enemy and cruising above our lines and often behind them), our fighting airplanes gradually overcame prejudice. they were not, it is true, so promptly brought to perfection as our army corps airplanes, which proved so useful in the champagne campaign of september, ; but it was admitted that the aërial combat should not be regarded as a result of mere chance, but as inevitable, and that it constituted, first, a protection, and afterwards an effective obstruction to an enemy forbidden to make raids in our aërial domain. the next german offensive--against verdun--had been foreseen. in consequence, the staff had organized a safety service to avoid all surprise by the enemy, to meet attacks, and prepare the way for the reinforcing troops. but the violence of the verdun offensive exceeded all expectations. our escadrilles had done their duty as scouts before the attack. after it began, they were overwhelmed and numerically unable to perform all the aërial missions required. the fighting enemy escadrilles, with their new series of machines and their improvements, won for a few days the complete mastery of the air. our own airplanes were forced off the battle-field, and driven from their landing-places by cannon. meanwhile the verdun battle was changing its character. general pétain, who took command on february , restored the order which had been compromised by the bending of the front, and established the new front against which the germans hurled their forces. it was also necessary for him to reconquer the mastery of the air. he asked for and obtained a rapid concentration of all the available escadrilles, and demanded of them vigorous offensive tactics. to economize and coördinate strength, all the fighting escadrilles at verdun were grouped under the sole command of major de rose. they operated by patrols, sometimes following very distant itineraries, and attacking all the airplanes they met. in a short time we regained our air supremacy, and our airplanes which were engaged in regulating artillery fire and in taking aërial photographs could work in safety. their protection was assured by raids even into the german lines. the storks escadrille, then, flew in the direction of verdun. in the course of the voyage, guynemer brought down his eighth airplane, which fell vertically in flames. this was a good augury. hardly had he arrived on march when he began to explore the battle-field with his conqueror's eyes. the enemy at that time still thought himself master, and dared to venture within the french lines. guynemer chased, over revigny, a group of five airplanes, drove another out of argonne, and while returning met two others, almost face to face. he engaged the first one, tacking under it and firing from a distance of ten meters. but the adversary answered his fire, and guynemer's machine was hit: the right-hand rear longitudinal spar was cut, the cable injured, the right forward strut also cut, and the wind-shield shattered. the airman himself was wounded in the face by fragments of aluminum and iron, one lodging in the jaw, from which it could never be extracted, one in the right cheek, one in the left eyelid, miraculously leaving the eye unhurt, while smaller fragments peppered him generally, causing hemorrhages which clogged his mask and made it adhere to the flesh. in addition, he had two bullets in his left arm. though blinded by blood, he did not lose his sang-froid, and hastily dived, while the second airplane continued firing, and a third, furnished with a turret, which had come to the rescue of its comrades, descended after him and fired down upon his machine. nevertheless, he had escaped by his maneuver, and in spite of his injuries made a good landing at brocourt. on the th he was evacuated to paris, to the japanese ambulance in the hotel astoria, and with despair in his soul was obliged to let his comrades fight their battle of verdun without his help. iii. "la terre a vu jadis errer des paladins...."[ ] at verdun our aërial as well as our land forces underwent sudden and almost prodigious reverses. within a few days the storks escadrille had been decimated: its chief, captain brocard, had been wounded in the face by a bullet and compelled to land; lieutenant perretti had been killed, lieutenant deullin wounded, guynemer wounded and nearly all its best pilots put _hors de combat_. the lost air-mastery was only regained by the tenacity of major de rose, chief of aviation of the second army, and by a rapid reconcentration of forces. [footnote : "once knightly heroes wandered over earth...."] major de rose ordered enemy-chasing, and electrified and inspired his escadrilles. the part he played during those terrible verdun months can never be sufficiently praised. guynemer's comrades held the sky under fire, as their brothers, the infantrymen, held the shifting ground which protected the ancient citadel. chaput brought down seven airplanes, nungesser six, and a drachen, navarre four, lenoir four, auger and pelletier d'oisy three, puple, chainat, and lesort two. the observation airplanes rivaled the fighting machines, often defending themselves, and not infrequently forcing down their assailants in flames. twice sergeant fedoroff rid himself in this manner of troublesome adversaries. but other pilots deserve to be mentioned, pilots such as stribick and houtt, captain vuillemin, lieutenant de laage, sergeants de ridder, viallet and buisse, and such observers as lieutenant liebmann, who was killed, and mutel, naudeau, campion, moulines, dumas, robbe, travers, _sous-lieutenant_ boillot, captain verdurand--admirable squadron chief--and major roisin, expert in bombardments. the lists of names are always too short, but these, at least, should be loudly acclaimed. meanwhile the battle of verdun shattered trees, knocked down walls, annihilated villages, hollowed out the earth, dug up the plains, distorted the hills, and renewed once more that chaos of the third day, according to genesis, on which the creator separated the waters from the earth. almost the entire french army filed through this extraordinary epic battle, and guynemer, wounded and weeping with rage, was not there. but there was another period in the great war in which the grouping of our fighting escadrilles and their employment in offensive movements gave us triumphant superiority in the aërial struggle, and this was the battle of the somme, particularly during its first three months--a splendid and heroic time when our airmen sprang up in the sky, spreading panic and fear, like the knights-errant of _la légende des siècles_. victor hugo's verses seem to describe them and their vertiginous rounds rather than the too slow horsemen of old: la terre a vu jadis errer des paladins; ils flamboyaient ainsi que des éclairs soudains, puis s'évanouissaient, laissant sur les visages la crainte, et la lueur de leurs brusques passages... les noms de quelques-uns jusqu'à nous sont venus.... ils surgissaient du sud ou du septentrion, portant sur leur écu l'hydre ou l'alérion, couverts des noirs oiseaux du taillis héraldique, marchant seuls au sentier que le devoir indique, ajoutant au bruit sourd de leur pas solennel la vague obscurité d'un voyage éternel, ayant franchi les flots, les monts, les bois horribles, ils venaient de si loin qu'ils en étaient terribles, et ces grands chevaliers mêlaient à leurs blasons toute l'immensité des sombres horizons.... these new knights-errant who wandered above the desolate plains of the somme, no longer on earth but in the sky, mounted on winged steeds, who started up with a "heavy sound" from south or north, will be immortal like those of the ancient epics. it will be said that it was dorme or heurtaux, or nungesser, deullin, sauvage, tarascon, chainat, or it was guynemer, who accomplished such and such an exploit. the germans, without knowing their names, recognized them, not by their armor and their sword-thrust, but by their machines, their maneuvers and methods. almost invariably their enemies desperately avoided a fight with them, retreating far within their own lines, where, even then, they were not sure of safety. those who accepted their gage of battle seldom returned. the enemy aviation camps from ham to péronne watched anxiously for the return of their champions who dared to fight over the french lines. none of them cared to fly alone, and even in groups they appeared timid. in patrols of four, five, and six, sometimes more, they flew beyond their own lines with the utmost caution, fearful at the least alarm, and anxiously examining the wide and empty sky where these mysterious knights mounted guard and might at any moment let loose a storm. but in the course of these prodigious first three months of the battle of the somme, our french chasing-patrols not infrequently flew to and fro for two hours over german aviation camps, forcing down all those who attempted to rise, and succeeding in spreading terror and consternation in the enemy's lines. the franco-british offensive began on july , , on the flat lands lying along both banks of the somme river. the general plan of these operations had been agreed upon in the preceding december. the battle of verdun had not prevented its execution which, on the contrary, was expected to relieve verdun. the attack was made on a front of kilometers between gommécourt on the north and vermandovillers on the south of the river. from the beginning the french penetrated the enemy's first lines, the th corps took the village of curlu and held the favière wood, while the st colonial corps and one division of the th corps passed the fay ravine and took possession of bacquincourt, dompierre and bussus. on the third, this successful advance continued into the second lines. within just a few days general fayolle's army had taken , prisoners, cannon, and several hundred machine-guns. but the germans, who were concentrated in the péronne region, with strong positions like maurepas, combles, and cléry, and, further in the rear, bouchavesnes and sailly-saillisel on the right bank, and estrées, belloy-en-santerre, barleux, albaincourt and pressoire on the left bank, made such desperate resistance that the struggle was prolonged into mid-winter. the german retreat in march, , to the famous hindenburg line was the strategic result of this terrible battle, the tactics of which were continuously successful and the connection between the different arms brought to perfection, while the infantry made an unsurpassed record for suffering and endurance and will power in such combats as maurepas (august ), cléry (september ), bouchavesnes (september )--where, when evening came, the enemy was definitely broken--and the taking of berny-en-santerre, of deniécourt, of vermandovillers (september ) on the left bank, and on the right bank the entry into combles (surrounded on september ), the advance on sailly-saillisel and the stubborn defense of this ruined village whose château and central district had already been occupied on october , and in which a few houses resisted until november . then, there was the fight for the chaulnes wood, and la maisonnette and ablaincourt and pressoire; and everywhere it was the same as at verdun: the woods were razed to the ground, villages disappeared into the soil, and the earth was so plowed and crushed and martyred that it was nothing but one immense wound. now, the air forces had had their part in the victory. obliged, as they were at verdun, to resist the numerical superiority of the enemy, they had thrown off the tyranny of atmospheric conditions and accepted and fulfilled diverse missions in all kinds of weather. verdun had hardened them, as it had "burned the blood" of the infantry who had never known a worse hell than that one. but as our operations now took the initiative, the aviation corps was able to prepare its material more effectively, to organize its aërodromes and concentrate its forces beforehand. its advantage was evident from the first day of the somme offensive, not only in mechanical power, but in a method which coördinated and increased its efforts under a single command. though this arm of the service was in continuous evolution, more subject than any other to the modifications of the war, and the most susceptible of all to progress and improvement, it had nevertheless finished its trial stages and acquired full development as connecting agent for all the other arms, whom it supplied with information. serving at first for strategic reconnaissance, and then almost exclusively for regulating artillery fire, the aërial forces now performed complex and efficient service for every branch of the army. by means of aërial photography they furnished exact knowledge of the ground and of the enemy's defenses, thus preceding the execution of military operations. they regulated artillery fire, followed the program laid down for the destruction of the enemy, and supplied such information as was necessary to set the time for the attack. they then accompanied the infantry in the attack, observed its progress, located the conquered positions, revealed the situation of the enemy's new lines, betrayed his defensive works, and announced his reinforcements and his counter-attacks. they were the conducting wire between the command, the artillery, and the troops, and everybody felt them to be sure and faithful allies, for they were able to see and know, to speak and warn. but the air forces, during all their useful missions, were themselves in need of protection, and there must be no enemy airplanes about if they were to make their observations in security. but how to rid them of these enemies, and render the latter incapable of harm? here the air cavalry, the airplanes built for distant scouting and combats, intervened. the safety of observation machines could only be insured by long-distance protection, that is to say, by aërial patrols taking the offensive, not by a solitary guard, too often disappointing, and ineffective against a resolute adversary. their safety near to the army could be guaranteed only by carrying the aërial struggle over into the enemy's lines and preventing all raids upon our own. the groups belonging to our fighting escadrilles on both banks of the somme achieved this result. the one-seated nieuport, rapid, easily managed, with high ascensional speed, and capable, by its solid construction and air-piercing power, of diving from a height upon an enemy and falling upon him like a bird of prey, was then the chasing airplane _par excellence_, and remained so until the appearance of the terrible spad, which made its _début_ in the course of the somme campaign, guynemer and corporal sauvage piloting the first two of these machines in early september, . they were armed with machine-guns, firing forward, and invariably connected with the direction of the machine's motion. the spad is an extraordinary instrument of attack, but its defense lies only in its capacity for rapid displacement and the swiftness of its evolutions. its rear is badly exposed: its field of visibility is very limited at the sides, and objects can be seen only above and below,--below, minus the dead angle of the motor and the cock-pit. the pilot can easily lose sight of the airplanes in his own group or that of the enemy, so that if he is alone, he is in danger of being surprised. on the other hand, one condition of his own victory is to surprise the enemy, especially if he attacks a two-seated machine whose range of fire is much broader, or if he does not hesitate to choose his victim from among a group. the spad pilot makes use of the sun, of fog, of clouds. he flies high in order to hold the advantage of being able to pounce down upon his enemy while the enemy approaches prudently, timidly, suspecting no danger. the battle of the somme was the most favorable for solitary airplanes, or airplanes coupled like hunting-dogs. since then methods have changed, and the future belongs to fighting escadrilles or groups of machines. but at that time the one-seated airplane was king of the air. one of them was enough to intimidate enemy airplanes engaged in regulating artillery fire and in short-distance scouting, making them hesitate to leave their lines, and to frighten barrier patrols of two or even four two-seated airplanes, in spite of their shooting superiority, into turning back and disbanding. the one-seated enemy machines never ventured out except in groups, and even with the advantage of two against one refused to fight. so the one-seated french machine was obliged to fly alone, for if it was accompanied by patrols, the enemy fled and there was no one to attack; whereas, when free to maneuver at will, the solitary pilot could plan ruses, hide himself in the light or in the clouds, take advantage of the enemy's blind sides, and carry out sudden destructive attacks which are impossible for groups. our airmen never speak of the somme without a smile of satisfaction: they have retained heroic memories of that campaign. afterwards, the germans drilled their one-seated or two-seated patrols, trained them in resistance to isolated attacks, and taught them in turn how to attack the solitary machine which had ventured out beyond its own lines. we were obliged to alter our tactics and adopt group formation. but the strongest types of our enemy-chasing pilots were revealed or developed during the battle of the somme. moreover, our aviators at that time were incomparable; and in citing the most illustrious among them one risks injustice to their companions whose opportunities were less fortunate and whose exploits were less brilliant but not less useful. the cavalry, artillery, and infantry were drawn upon for recruits for the aviation branch of the army, and it appeared a difficult undertaking to fuse such different elements; but as all shared the same life and the same dangers, had similar tastes, and a passion for attaining the same result, and as their officers were necessarily recruited from among themselves, and chosen for services rendered, an atmosphere of _camaraderie_ and friendly rivalry was created. a great novelist said that the origin of our friendships dates "from those hours at the beginning of life when we dream of the future in company with some comrade with the same ideals as our own, a chosen brother."[ ] what difference does it make, then, if they depart in company for glory or for death? these young men gave themselves with the same willingness to the same service, a service full of constant danger. they were not gathered together by chance, but by their vocation and by selection, and they spoke the same language. for them, friendship easily became rivalry in courage and energy, and a school of mutual esteem, in which each strove to outdo the other. friendship kept them alert, drove away inertia and weakness, and they became confident and generous, so that each rejoiced in the success of the others. in the mountains, on the sea, in every place where men feel most acutely their own fragility, such friendship is not rare; but war brings it to perfection. [footnote : paul bourget, _une idylle tragique_.] the patrols of the storks escadrille, in the beginning of the somme campaign, consisted of a single airplane, or airplanes in couples. guynemer, whom everybody called "the kid," always took heurtaux with him when he carried a passenger; for heurtaux, as blond as guynemer was brown, thin and slender, very delicate and young, seemed to give guynemer the rights of an elder. heurtaux was the oliver of this roland. in character and energy they were the same. dorme used to take deullin with him, or de la tour. or the choice was made alternately. this was the quartet of whom the enemy had cause to beware, and woe to the boche who met any one of them! there was at that time at bapaume a group of five one-seated german machines which never maneuvered singly. if they perceived a pair of nieuports, they immediately tacked about and fled in haste. but if one of our chasers was cruising alone, the whole group attacked him. heurtaux, attacked in this way, had been compelled to dive and land, and on his return had to submit to the jests of guynemer, for at that age friendship is roughish. "go there yourself," advised heurtaux, "and you will see." next day guynemer went alone, but in his turn was forced down. after these two trials, which might have ended in disaster--but knights must amuse themselves--the five one-seated planes at bapaume were methodically but promptly beaten down. friendship demands equality between souls. if one has to protect the other, if one is manifestly superior, it is no longer friendship. in the storks escadrille friendship reigned in peace in the midst of war, so surely did each take his turn in surpassing the others. which one was, finally, to be the greatest, not because of the number of his mentions, nor his renown or public fame, but according to the testimony of his comrades--the surest and most clearsighted of testimony--for no one can deceive his peers? would it be the cold and calm dorme, who went to battle as a fisher goes to his nets, who never spoke of his exploits, and whose heart, under this modest, gentle, kind exterior, was filled with hatred for the invader who occupied his own countryside, briey, and for six months had held in custody and ill-treated his parents? in the somme battle alone his official victories numbered seventeen, but the enemy could recount many others, doubtless, for this silent, well-balanced young man possessed quite improbable audacity. he would fly more than fifteen or twenty kilometers above the german lines, perfectly tranquil under the showers of shells which rose from the earth. at such a distance within their lines the boche airplanes thought themselves safe when, suddenly, _du sud ou du septentrion_, appeared this knightly hero. and he would return smilingly, as fresh as when he had started out. it was only with difficulty that a very brief statement could then be extracted from him. his machine would be inspected, and not a trace of any fragment found; he might have been a tourist returning from a promenade. in more than a hundred combats his airplane received only three very small wounds. his cleverness in handling his machine was incredible: his close veering, his twistings and turnings, made it impossible for the adversary to shoot. he also knew how to quit the combat in time, if his own maneuvers had not succeeded. he seemed invulnerable. but later, much later, while he was fighting on the aisne in may, , dorme, who had penetrated far within the enemy's lines, never came back. [illustration: in the air] was heurtaux the greatest, whose method was as delicate as himself--a virtuoso of the air, clever, supple and quickwitted, whose hand and eye equaled his thought in rapidity? was it deullin, skilled in approach, and prompt as the tempest? or the long-enduring, robust, admirable _sous-lieutenant_ nungessor, or sergeant sauvage, or adjutant tarascon? was it captain ménard, or sangloer, or de la tour? but the reader knows very well that it was guynemer. why was it guynemer, according to the testimony of all his rivals? history and the epic have coupled many names of friends, like achilles and patroclus, orestes and pylades, nisus and euryalus, roland and oliver. in these friendships, one is always surpassed by the other, but not in intelligence, nor courage nor nobility of character. for generosity, or wisdom of council, one might even prefer a patroclus to an achilles, an oliver to a roland. in what, then, lies the superiority? that is the secret of temperament, the secret of genius, the interior flame which burns the brightest, and whose appearances cause astonishment and almost terror, as if some mystery were divulged. it is certain that georges guynemer was a mechanician and a gunsmith. he knew his machine and his machine-gun, and how to make them do their utmost. but there were others who knew the same. dorme and heurtaux were perhaps more skillful in maneuvering than he. (it was interesting to watch guynemer when he was preparing to mount his nieuport. first the bird was brought out of the shed; then he minutely examined and fingered it. this tall thin young man, with his amber-colored skin, his long oval face and thin nose, his mouth with its corners falling slightly, a very slight moustache, and crow-black hair tossed backward, would have resembled a moorish chief had he been more impassive. but his features constantly showed his changing thoughts, and this play of expression gave grace and freshness to his face. sometimes it seemed strained and hardened, and a vertical wrinkle appeared on his forehead above the nose. his eyes--the unforgettable eyes of guynemer--round like agates, black and burning with a brilliance impossible to endure, for which there is only one expression sufficiently strong, that of saint-simon concerning some personage of the court of louis xiv: "the glances of his eyes were like blows"--pierced the sky like arrows, when his practiced ear had heard the harsh hum of an enemy motor. in advance he condemned the audacious adversary to death, seeming from a distance to draw him into the abyss, like a sorcerer.) after examining his machine he put on his fur-lined _combinaison_ over his black coat, and his head-covering, the _passe-montagne_, fitting tightly over his hair, and framing the oval of his face, and over this his leather helmet. plutarch spoke of the terrible expression of alexander when he went to battle. guynemer's face, when he rose for a flight, was appalling. what did he do in the air? his flight journals and statements tell the story. on each page, a hundred times in succession, and several times on a page, his flight notebooks contain the short sentences which seem to bound from the paper, like a dog showing its teeth: "i attack ... i attack ... i attack...." at long intervals, as if ashamed, appears the phrase: "i am attacked." on the somme more than twenty victories were credited to him, and to these should be added, as in the case of dorme, others taking place at too great distances to receive confirmation. in the first month of the somme battle, on september , , the storks escadrille, captain brocard, was mentioned before the army: "has shown unequaled energy and devotion to duty in the operations of verdun and the somme, waging, from march to august , , combats, bringing down airplanes, drachen, and compelling other badly damaged airplanes to land." captain brocard dedicated this mention to lieutenant guynemer, writing under it: "to lieutenant guynemer, my oldest pilot, and most brilliant stork. souvenir of gratitude and warmest friendship." and all the pilots of the escadrille, in turn, came to sign it. his comrades had often seen what he did in the air. when guynemer came back and landed, what a spectacle! although a victor, his face was not appeased. it was never to be appeased. he never was satisfied, never waged enough battles, never burned or destroyed enough enemies. when he landed he was still under the influence of nervous effort, and seemed as if electrified by the fluid still passing through his frame. however, his machine bore traces of the struggle: four bullets in the wing, the body, and the elevator. and he himself was grazed by the missiles, his _combinaison_ scratched and the end of his glove torn. by what miracle had he escaped?--he had passed through encircling death as a man leaps through a hoop. his method was one of the wildest temerity and impetuosity, and can be recommended to nobody. the number and strength of the enemy, so far from repelling, attracted him. he flew to vertiginous heights, and taking his place in the sunshine, watched and waited. in an attack he did not make use of the aërial acrobatic maneuvers with which, however, he was perfectly familiar. he struck without delay,--what is known in fencing as the cut direct. without trying to maintain his machine within his adversary's dead angles, he fell on him as a stone falls. he shot as near to the enemy as he could, at the risk of being shot first himself, and even of interlocking their machines, though in that respect the sureness of his maneuvering sufficed to disengage him. if he failed to take the enemy by surprise, he did not quit the combat as prudence exacted; but returned to the charge, refusing to unhook his clutch from the enemy airplane, and held him, and wanted him, and got him. his passion for flying never diminished. on rainy days, when it was unreasonable and useless to attempt to fly, he wandered around the sheds where the winged horses took their repose. he could not resist it: he entered, and mounted his own machine, settling himself in his cock-pit and handling the controls, holding mysterious conferences with his faithful steed. in the air, he had a higher power of resistance than the most robust men. this frail, sickly guynemer, twice refused by the army because of feebleness of constitution, never gave up. in proportion as the requirements of aviation became more severe, as the higher altitudes reached made it more exhausting, guynemer seemed to prolong his flights to the point where overwork and nervous depression compelled him to go away and take a little rest--which made him suffer still more. and suddenly, before he had taken the necessary repose, he threw it off like ballast, and returning to camp, reappeared in the air, like the falcon in the legend of saint julien the hospitaller: "the bold bird rose straight in the air like an arrow, and there could be seen two spots of unequal size which turned and joined, and then disappeared in the heights of heaven. the falcon soon descended, tearing some bird to pieces, and returned to his perch on the gauntlet, with his wings quivering."[ ] thus the victorious guynemer came back, quivering, to the aviation field. truly, a god possessed him. [footnote : flaubert.] apart from all that, he was just a boy, simple, gay, tender, and charming. iv. on the somme (june, , to february, ) georges guynemer, then, was wounded on march , , at verdun. on april , he arrived again at the front, with his arm half-cured and the wounds scarcely healed. he had escaped from the doctors and nurses. between times, he had been promoted _sous-lieutenant_. but he had to be sent back, to his bandages and massage. he returned to compiègne. the bargain he had made with his sister yvonne was continued, and when the weather was clear he went to vauciennes, where his machine awaited him. the first time he met an airplane after his fall and his wound, he experienced a quite natural but very painful sensation. would he hesitate? was he no longer the stubborn guynemer? the boche shot, but he did not reply. the boche used up all his machine-gun belt, and the combat was broken off. was it to be believed? what had happened? guynemer returned to his home. in the spring dawn comes very soon, and he had left so early that it was still morning. was his sister awake? he waited, but waiting was not his forte. so he opened the door again, and his childish face appeared in the strip of light that filtered through. this time the sleeper saw him. "already back? go back to bed. it is too early." "is it really so early?" her sisterly tenderness divined that he had something to tell her, something important, and that it would be necessary to help him to tell it. "come in," she said. he opened the blinds and sat down at the foot of the bed. "what scouting have you done this morning?" but he was following his own thoughts: "the men had warned me that under those circumstances one receives a very disagreeable impression." "under what circumstances?" "when one goes up again after having been wounded, and meets a boche. as long as you have not been wounded you think nothing can happen to you. when i saw that boche this morning i felt something quite new. then...." he stopped and laughed, as if he had played some schoolboy joke. "then, what did you do?" "well, i made up my mind to submit to his shots. calmly." "without replying?" "surely: i ordered myself not to shoot. that is the way one masters one's nerves, little sister. mine are entirely mastered: i am now absolutely in control. the boche presented me with five hundred shots while i maneuvered. they were necessary. i am perfectly satisfied." she looked at him, sitting at the foot of the bed with his head resting against the post. her eyes were wet and she kept silent. the silence continued. finally she said softly, "you have done well, georges." but he was asleep. later, referring to this meeting in which he offered himself to the enemy's fire, he said gravely: "that was the decisive moment of my life. if i had not set things right then and there, i was done for...." when he reappeared at his escadrille's head-quarters on may , quite cheerful but with a set face and flaming eyes, no one dared discuss his cure with him. the storks returned for a few days to the oise region, and once more the contented pilot of a nieuport flew over the country from péronne to roye. he had not lost the least particle of his determination; quite the reverse. one day (may ) he searched the air desperately for three hours, and though he finally discovered a two-seated enemy machine over noyon, he was obliged to give over the combat for lack of gasoline in his motor. meanwhile they were preparing the somme battle; the escadrilles familiarized themselves with their ground, and new machines were tried. the enemy, who suspected our preparations, sent out long-distance scouting airplanes. near amiens, above villers-bretonneux, guynemer, making his rounds with sergeant chainat, attacked one of these groups on june , isolated one of the airplanes and, maneuvering with his comrade, set it afire. that was, i believe, his ninth. this combat took place at a height of meters. the advantage went more and more to the pilot who mounted highest. after july there was a combat almost every day. would guynemer be put out of action from the beginning, as at verdun? returning on the th, after having put to flight an l.v.g., he surprised another boche airplane which was diving down on one of our artillery-regulating machines. he immediately drew the enemy's attention to himself; but the enemy (guynemer pays him this homage in his flight notebook) was keen and supple. his well-aimed shots passed through the propeller of the nieuport and cut two cables in the right cell. guynemer was obliged to land. he was forced down eight times during his flying career, once under fantastic conditions. he passed through every form of danger without ever losing the self-possession, the quickness of eye, and rapidity of decision which his passion for conquest had developed. what battles he fought in the air! on july his journal notes a combat of five against five; on the th a combat of three against seven, in which guynemer disengaged deullin, who was followed by an aviatik at a distance of a hundred meters. on the th, at o'clock, he attacked an l.v.g. and cut its cable; the enemy dived but appeared to be in control of the machine. a few moments later he and deullin attacked an aviatik and an l.v.g., guynemer damaging the aviatik, and deullin forcing down the l.v.g.; and before returning to their base, the two comrades attacked a group of seven machines and dispersed them. on the th guynemer forced down, with heurtaux, an l.v.g., which fell with its wheels in the air. after a short absence, during which he got a more powerful machine for his own use, he began on the th a repetition of his former program. on the th he waged five combats with enemy groups consisting of from five to eleven airplanes. on the th he fought three l.v.g.'s, and then groups of from three to ten machines. on the th he successively attacked two airplanes within their own lines, then a drachen which was obliged to land, then a group of four airplanes one of which was forced down, and then a second group of four which were dispersed, guynemer pursuing one of the fugitives and bringing him down. one blade of his own propeller was riddled with bullets, and he was compelled to land. such was his work for three days, taken at random from the notebook. open his journal at any page, and it reads the same. on august guynemer got back with seven shell fragments in his machine: he had been cannonaded from the ground while in chase of four enemy airplanes. on the same day he started off again, piloting heurtaux, who attacked the german trenches north of cléry and fired on some machine-guns. from its place up in the air the airplane encouraged the infantry, and shared in their assaults. the recital of events became, however, more and more brief: the fighting pilot had not time enough to write details; nobody had any time in the storks escadrille, constantly engaged as it was in its triumphant flights. we must turn then to guynemer's letters--strange letters, indeed, which contain nothing, absolutely nothing about the war, or the battle of the somme, or about anything else except _his_ war and _his_ battle. the earth-world no longer existed for him: the earth was a place which received the dead and the vanquished. so this is the way in which he wrote his two sisters, then sojourning in switzerland (fritz meaning any enemy airplane): dear kids, some sport: the , attacked a fritz, three shots and gun jammed; fritz tumbled. the th, _idem_, but in two shots: two fritzes in five shots, record. day before yesterday, attacked fritz at . at ten meters: killed the passenger and perhaps the rest, prevented from seeing what happened by a fight at half-past four: the boche ran. at . attacked an aviatik, carried away by the impetus, passed it at fifty centimeters; passenger "_couic_" (killed), the machine fell and was got under control again at fifty meters above the ground. at . , attacked an l.v.g.; at fifteen meters; just ready to shoot, when a bullet in my fingers made me let go the trigger; reservoir burst, good landing two kilometers from the trenches between two shell-holes. inventory of the "taxi": one bullet right in the face of my vickers; one perforative bullet in the motor; the steel stone had gone clear through it as well as the oil reservoir, the gasoline tank, the cartridge chest, my glove ... where it stayed in the index finger: result, about as if my finger had been slightly pinched in a door; not even skinned, only the top of the nail slightly blackened. at the time i thought two fingers had been shot. to continue the inventory: one bullet in the reservoir, in the direction of my left lung, having passed through four millimeters of copper and had the good sense to stop, but one wonders why. one bullet in the edge of the back of my seat, one in the rudder, and a dozen in the wings. they knocked the "taxi" to pieces with a hatchet at two o'clock in the morning, under shell-fire. on landing, received shots of , and , for nothing. they will pay the bill. for a beginning, la tour has his fourth mention. a hug for each of you. georges. p.s.--it could not be said now that i am not strong; i stop steel bullets with the end of my finger. is this a letter? at first, it is a bulletin of victory: two airplanes for five bullets, plus one passenger "_couic_." then it becomes a recital of the golden legend--the golden legend of aviation: he stops the enemy's bullets with his fingers; roland would write in that style to the beautiful aude: "met three saracens, durandal cleft two, the third tried to settle the affair with his bow, but the arrow broke on the cord." young paul bailly was right: "the exploits of guynemer are not a legend, like those of roland; in telling them just as they happened we find them more beautiful than any we could invent." that is why it is better to let guynemer himself relate them. he says only what is necessary, but the right accent is there, the rapidity and the "_couic_." the following letter is dated september , . _from the same to the same_ some sport. on the th, in a group of six, four of them squeezed at meters. in four days, six combats at meters: filled a few boches with holes, but they did not seem to tumble down, though some were hard hit all the same; then five boxing rounds up between and (altitude). to-day five combats, four of them at less than meters, and the fifth at meters. in the first, gun jammed at meters. in the second, at , the boche in his excitement lost his wings, and descended on his aërodrome in a wingless coach; his ears must be humming ( th). the third was a nose-to-nose combat with a fighting aviatik. too much impetus: i failed to hammer him hollow. in the fourth, same joke with an l.v.g. in a group of three: i failed to hammer him, i lurched: _pan_, a bullet near my head. in the fifth, i cleaned up the passenger (that is the third this week), then knocked up the pilot very badly at meters,--completely disabled, he landed evidently with great difficulty, and he must be in hospital.... three lines to describe a victory, the sixteenth. and what boarding of the adversary, from above and from below! he springs upon the enemy, but fails to go through him. both speeds combined, he does not make much less than kilometers an hour when he dives on him. the meeting and shooting hardly last one second, after which the combat continues, with other maneuvers. some savant should calculate the time allowed for sight and thought in fighting such duels! this was the period of the great series of combats on the somme. the storks escadrille, which was the first to arrive, waged battle uninterruptedly for eight months. other escadrilles came to the rescue. altogether they were divided into two groups, one under the command of major féquant, the other under that of captain brocard, appointed chief of battalion. it becomes impossible to enumerate all guynemer's victories, and we can merely emphasize the days on which he surpassed himself. september was a remarkable day, on which he brought down two enemies and had a fall from a height of meters. little paul bailly would hardly have believed that; he would have said it was surely a legend, the golden legend of aviation. nevertheless, here is guynemer's statement, countersigned by the escadrille commandant: "_saturday, september ._--two combats near eterpigny. at . forced down a boche in flames near aches; at . forced a boche to land, damaged, near carrépuy; at . forced down a boche in flames near roye. at . , was forced down myself by a french shell, and smashed my machine near fescamps...." these combats occurred between péronne and montdidier. to his father he wrote with more precision, but in his usual elliptical style. "_september _: asphyxiated a fokker in seconds, tumbled down disabled. "_september _: . .--a boche in flames within our lines. " . .--a boche disabled, passenger killed. " . .--a boche in flames meters from the lines. " . and a half.--a blew up my water reservoir, and all the linen of the left upper plane, hence a superb tail spin. succeeded in changing it into a glide. fell to ground at speed of or kilometers: everything broken like matches, then the 'taxi' rebounded, turned around at degrees, and came back, head down, planting itself in the ground meters away like a post; they could not budge it. nothing was left but the body, which was intact: the spad is strong; with any other machine i should now be thinner than this sheet of paper. i fell meters from the battery that had demolished me; they had not aimed at me, but they brought me down all the same, which they had no difficulty in recognizing; the shell struck me hard some time before exploding. the boche fell close by major constantin's post. i picked up the pieces." the group which he had attacked was composed of five airplanes, flying in _échelon_, three above, two below. the two which flew lowest were assaulted by one of our escadrilles, and the pilots, seeing a machine fall in flames, thought at first it was their own victory. "it was my first one, falling from the upper story," guynemer explained drolly, in his stanislas-student manner. with his "_terrible oiseau_" he had waged battle with the three pilots "of the upper story," and had forced them down one after the other. "the first one," he said, "had a half-burned card in his pocket which had certainly been given him that same morning, judging by the date, which read in german: 'i think you are very successful in aviation.' i have his photograph with his gretchen. what german heads! he wore the same decorations as that one who fell in the bus wood...." is this not achilles setting his foot on hector and taking possession of his trophies? guynemer's heart was stone to his enemies. he saw in them the wrongs done to france, the invasion of our country, the destruction of our towns and villages, our desolation, and our dead, so many of our dead whose deserted homes weep for them. his was not to give pity, but to do justice. and in doing justice, when an adversary whom he had forced down was wounded, he brought him help with all his native generosity. for him, thirty seconds had separated the capitol from the tarpeian rock. after his triple victory came his incredible fall, unheard of, fantastic, from a height of meters, the spad falling at the highest speed down to earth, and rebounding and planting itself in the ground like a picket. "i was completely stupefied for twenty-four hours, but have escaped with merely immense fatigue (especially where i wear my looping-the-loop straps, which saved my life), and a gash in my knee presented to me by my magneto. during that -meter tumble i was planning the best way to hit the ground (i had the choice of sauces): i found the way, but there were still out of chances for the wooden cross. _enfin_, all right!" and this postscript followed: "sixth time i have been brought down: record!" lieutenant v.f., of the dragon escadrille, colliding with a comrade's airplane at a height of meters, had a similar fall onto the avocourt wood, and was similarly astounded to find himself whole. he had continued maneuvering during the five or six minutes of the descent. "soon," he wrote, "the trees of the hesse forest came in sight; in fact, they seemed to approach at a dizzy rate of speed. i switched off so as not to catch fire, and a few meters before reaching the trees i nosed up my machine with all my strength so that it would fall flat. there was a terrible shock! one tree higher than the rest broke my right wings, and made me turn as if i were on a pivot. i closed my eyes. there was a second shock, less violent than i could have hoped: the machine fell on its nose like a stone, at the foot of the tree which had stopped me. i unfastened my belt which, luckily, had not broken, and let myself slip onto the ground, amazed not to be suffering intense agony. the only bad effects were that my head was heavy, and blood was flowing through my mask. i breathed, coughed, and shook my arms and legs, and was dumbfounded to find that all my faculties functioned normally...." guynemer did not tell us so much; but, as a mathematician, he calculated his chances. he too had switched off, and with the greatest sang-froid superintended, so to speak, his fall. its result was no less magical. the infantrymen had observed this rainfall of airplanes. the french plane reached the earth just before its pilot's last victim fell also, in flames. the soldiers pitied the poor victor, who had not, as they thought, survived his conquest! they rushed to his aid, expecting to pick him up crushed to atoms. but guynemer stood up without aid. he seemed like a ghost; but he was standing, he was alive, and the excited soldiers took possession of him and carried him off in triumph. a division general approached, and immediately commanded a military salute for the victor, saying to guynemer: "you will review the troops with me." guynemer did not know how to review troops, and would have liked to go. he was suffering cruelly from his knee: "i happen to be wounded, general." "wounded, you! it's impossible. when a man falls from the sky without being broken, he is a magician, no doubt of that. you cannot be wounded. however, lean upon me." and holding him up, almost indeed carrying him, he walked with the young _sous-lieutenant_ in front of the troops. from the neighboring trenches rose the sound of singing, first half-suppressed, and then swelling into a formidable roar: the _marseillaise_. the song had sprung spontaneously to the men's lips. * * * * * cerebral commotion required guynemer to rest for a few days. but on october he started off again. the month of october on the somme was marked by an improvement in german aviation, their numbers being considerably reinforced and supplied with new tactics. guynemer defied the new tactics of numbers, and in one day, october , attacked a group of three one-seated planes, and another group of five. a second time he made a sortie, and attacked a two-seated plane which was aided by five one-seated machines. on another occasion, november , he waged six battles with one-seated and two-seated machines, all of which made their escape, one after another, by diving. still this was not enough, and he set forth again and attacked a group of one albatros and four one-seated planes. "hard fight," says the journal, "the enemy has the advantage." he broke off this combat, but only to engage in another with an albatros which had surprised lieutenant deullin at meters. on the following day, november , he added two more items to his list (making his nineteenth and twentieth): his first victim, at whom he had shot fifteen times from a distance less than ten meters, fell in flames south of nesle; the other, a two-seated albatros, h.p. mercédès, protected by three one-seated machines, fell and was crushed to pieces in the morcourt ravine. this double stroke he repeated on the twenty-second of the same month (making his twenty-second and twenty-third), and again on january , (his twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh), and still again the next day, the twenty-fourth (his twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth victories). in addition, here is one of his letters with a statement of the results of three chasing days. there are no longer headings or endings to his letters; he makes a direct attack, as he does in the air. - -' _january_ , .--fell on a group of five boches at . i brought them back, with drums beating, at meters (one wire stay cut, one escape pot broken). at the end of the boxing-round, meters above roye, i succeeded in getting behind a one-seated machine of the group. my motor stopped; obliged to pump and let the boche go. . .--attacked a fritz, let him go at meters, my motor spattered, but the boche landed, head down, near goyancourt. i only count him as damaged. at this instant, i see a boche cannonaded at , hence at . a boxing round necessary with a little rumpler armed with two machine-guns. the pilot got a bullet in his lung; the passenger, who fired at me, got one in his knee. the two reservoirs were hit, and the whole machine took fire and tumbled down at lignières, within our lines. i landed alongside; in starting in again one wheel was broken in the plowed frozen earth. in taking away the "taxi" the park people completely demolished it for me. it was rushed to paris for repairs. .--i watch the others fly, and fume. .--bucquet loaned me his "taxi." no view-finder; only a wretchedly bad (oh, how bad!) sight-line. at o'clock.--saw a boche at ; took the lift.--arrived at the sun.--in turning, was caught in an eddy-wind, rotten tail spin.--while coming down again i saw the boche aiming at me meters away; sent him ten shots: gun jammed; but the boche seemed excited and dived with his motor in full blast straight south. off we go! but i took care not to get too near so that he would not see that my gun was out of action. the altimeter tumbled: estrées-saint-denis came in sight. i maneuvered my boche as well as i could. suddenly he righted himself and departed in the direction of rheims, banging away at me. i tried bluffing; i rose meters and let myself fall on him like a pebble. when i began to think my bluff had not succeeded, he seemed impressed and began to descend again. i placed myself at a distance of meters, but every time i showed my nose the passenger aimed at me. the road to compiègne: ... meters. when i showed my nose, the passenger, standing, stopped aiming and made a sign that he gave himself up. all right! i saw under his belly that four shells had struck the mark. meters: the boche slowed up his "_moulin_" (motor). meters, meters. i let him go and watched him land. at meters i circled and found i was over an aërodrome. but, having no more cartridges, i could not prevent them from setting fire to their "taxi," a magnificent h.p. albatros. when i saw they had been surrounded, i landed and showed the boches my broken machine-gun. sensation. they had fired at me two hundred times: my bullets, before the breakdown, had gone through their altimeter and their tachometer, which had caused their excitement. the pilot said that an airplane had been forced down two days before at goyancourt: passenger killed, pilot wounded in legs--had to have one amputated above the knee. i hope this original confirmation will be accepted, which will make . thirty victories, twenty or twenty-one of which occurred on the somme: such is the schedule of these extraordinary flights. the last one surpassed all the rest. he fought unarmed, with nothing but his machine, like a knight who, with sword broken, manages his horse and brings his adversary to bay. what a scene it was when the german pilot and passenger, prisoners, became aware that guynemer's machine-gun had been out of action! once more he had imposed his will upon others, and his power of domination had fascinated his enemies. in the beginning of february, , the storks escadrille left the somme after six months' fighting, and flew into lorraine. canto iii at the zenith i. on the th of may, the destiny of a guynemer is to surpass himself. part of his power, however, must lie in the perfection of his weapons. why could he not forge them himself? in him, the mechanician and the gunsmith were impatient to serve the pilot and the fighter. nothing in the science of aviation was unknown to him, and guynemer in the factory was always the same guynemer. he worked with the same nervous tension when he overhauled his machine-guns to avoid the too frequent and too troublesome jamming, or when he improved the arrangement of the instruments and tools in his airplane in accordance with his superior practical experience, as when he chased an enemy. he wanted to compel the obedience of matter, as he compelled the enemy to surrender. in the somme campaign he had forced down two airplanes in a single day, and then four in two days. in lorraine he was to do even better. at that time, the beginning of , the german aërial forces were very active in lorraine, but the city of nancy paid no attention to them. in nancy had seen the invading army broken against the mountain of saint genevieve and the grand couronné; she had withstood a bombardment by gigantic shells and visits from air squadrons, and all without losing her good humor and her animation. she was one of those cities on the front who are accustomed to danger, and who find in it an inspiration for courage, for commerce, and even for pleasure which does not belong to cities behind the lines. sometimes people who were dining on the place stanislas left their tables to watch some fine battle in the air, after which they resumed their seats and their appetites, merely replacing rhenish by moselle wines. nevertheless, the frequency of raids, and the destruction caused by bombs, began to make the existence of both native and visiting nancyites decidedly unpleasant. the storks escadrille, which arrived in february, very promptly punished these aërial brigands, by a police policy both rapid and severe. the enemy airplanes which flew over nancy were vigorously chased, and less than a month later the framework of a good dozen of them, arranged in an orderly manner around the statue of stanislas leczinski, reassured the population and served as an interesting spectacle for the visitor who could no longer have the pleasure of admiring, behind lamour's gates, the two monumental fountains consecrated to neptune and amphitrite, by guibal, and which were then covered by coarse sacks of earth. guynemer had contributed his share of these _spolia opima_. on march he alone had forced down three boches, and a fourth on the th. three victories in one day constituted a novel exploit. navarre had achieved a double victory on february , , at verdun, and guynemer had the same success on the somme; in this campaign nungesser had burned a drachen and two airplanes in one morning; but three airplanes destroyed in one day had never been seen before. on that same evening guynemer wrote to his family, and i transcribe the letter just as it is, with neither heading nor final formula. the king of spain, in _ruy blas_, talks of the weather before he tells of the six wolves he has killed; but the new cid fought in all weathers and speaks of nothing but his chase: o'clock.--rose from the ground on hearing shell explosions. forced down in flames a two-seated albatros at . . . .--attacked with deuillin a group of three one-seated albatros, famous on the lorraine front. at . i brought one down almost intact: pilot wounded, lieutenant von hausen, nephew of the general. and deullin brought down another in flames at the same time. about o'clock dorme and auger had attacked and grilled a two-seated plane. these four boches were in a quadrilateral, the sides of which measured five kilometers, four and a half kilometers, three kilometers and three kilometers. those who were in the middle need not have bothered themselves, but they were completely distracted. . .--forced down a two-seated albatros in flames. three boches within our lines for my day's work.... ouf! g.g. guynemer, who had been promoted lieutenant in february and was to be made captain in march, treated this lieutenant von hausen humanely and courteously as soon as he had landed. in all his mentions up to that time guynemer had been described as a "brilliant chasing pilot"; he was now mentioned as an "incomparable chasing pilot." * * * * * early in april the storks left lorraine and went to make their nests on a plateau on the left bank of the aisne, back of fismes. new events were in preparation. after the german retreat to the hindenburg line, the french army in connection with the english army--which was to attack vimy cliffs (april - , )--was about to undertake that vast offensive operation which, from soissons to auberive in champagne, was to roll like an ocean wave over the slopes of the chemin des dames, the hills of sapigneul and brimont, and the moronvillers mountain. hearts were filled with hope, and the men were inspired by a sacred joy. their sufferings and their wounds did not prevent the hearts of the soldiers in that spring of from flowering in sublime sacrifices for the cause of liberty. as at the battle of the somme, so at the battle of the aisne our aërial escadrilles were in close touch with the general staff and the other arms of the service. their success was no doubt dependent upon the quality of the airplanes, and the factory output, and limited by the enemy's power in the air. but though they were unable to achieve the mastery of the air from the very first, they continued obstinately to increase their force, and little by little their successes increased. they had to oppose an enemy who had just accomplished an immense improvement in his aviation corps. in september, , the german staff, profiting by the lessons of the somme campaign during which its aviation forces had been so terribly scourged, resolved upon an almost complete reorganization of its aëronautical service. hindenburg's program arranged for a rehandling of both the direction and the technical services. a decree dating from november, , announced the separation from the other services of the air fight forces (_luftstreitkräfte_), which were to be placed under a staff officer, the _kommandeur der luftstreitkräfte_. this new _kommandeur_, who was to superintend the building of the machines as well as the training of the pilots, was lieutenant general von hoeppner, with lieutenant colonel tjomsen as an assistant. the squadrons, numbering more than , were divided into bombing, chasing, patrolling and field escadrilles, these last being intrusted with scouting, photographing, and artillery work, in constant touch with the infantry. most of these novelties were servilely copied from french aviation. the germans had borrowed the details of _liaison_ service, as well as those for the regulation of artillery fire, from the french regulations. the commander of the aëronautical section of the fifth german army (verdun) said in a report that "a conscientious aviator was the only reliable informant in action." and his supreme chief, the kronprinz, commenting upon this sentence, drew the following conclusions: "all this shows once more that through methodical use of infantry aviation, the command can be kept informed of developments through the whole battle. but the necessary condition for fruitful work in the field lies in a previous training carried on with the infantry, machine-guns, artillery, and _liaison_ units. the task of the infantry flyer is apt to become more difficult as the weather grows worse, and ground more deeply plowed up, the enemy more pressing, or our own troops yielding ground. when all these unfavorable circumstances are united, the infantry aviator can only be effective if he has perfect training. so he must be in constant contact with the other services, and the infantry must know him personally. at a pinch he ought to make himself understood by the troops, even without any of the usual signals." but these airplanes, while doing this special work, must be protected by patrolling escadrilles. the best protection is afforded by the chasing units, fitted to spread terror and death far afield, or to stop enemy escadrilles bound on a similar errand. here again, copying the french services, germany strengthened her chasing escadrilles during the whole winter of - , and by the following spring she possessed no less than forty. before the war she had given her attention almost exclusively to heavy airplanes. french types were plagiarized: as the morane had been altered into the fokker, the nieuport became an albatros. their one-seated h.p. albatros, with a benz or mercédès fixed engine and two maxim guns shooting through the propeller, was henceforth the typical chasing machine. however, the powerful two-engine gothas ( h.p.) and the friedrichshafen and a.e.g. ( h.p.) soon made their appearance in bombing escadrilles. at the same time, the defensive attitude adopted at the beginning of the somme campaign was repudiated. the order of the day became strong concentration, likely to secure, at least in one sector, decided superiority in the air, even if other sectors must be left destitute or battle shirked. the flying men were never to be over-worked, so as to be fresh in an emergency. the subordination of aviation to the other services was evidently an inspiration from the french regulation saying: "the aviation forces shall be always ready to attack, but in perfect subordination to the orders of the commanding officers." in spite of this _readiness to attack_, the enemy recommended prudence in scouting and patrolling work. the airman was not to engage in a fight without special orders. he seldom cruises by himself, and most often is one of five. to one boelcke, fond of high altitudes and given to pouncing falconlike on his prey, like guynemer, there are scores of richtofens who, under careful protection from other airplanes, circle round and round trying to attract the enemy, and unexpectedly getting behind him by a spiral or a loop. it should be said here that the german controlling boards take the pilot's word concerning the number of his victories instead of requiring, as the french do, the evidence of eye witnesses. the high figures generously allowed to a richtofen or a werner voss are less creditable than the strictly controlled record of a guynemer, a nungesser, or a dorme. the enemy expected in april, , a massive attack from the french air forces in the aisne, and had taken measures to evade it. an order from the staff of the seventh army says that all flying units shall be given the alarm whenever a large number of french airplanes are sighted. the german machines must return to camp at once, refusing combat except on equal terms; and balloons must be lowered, or even pulled down to the ground. if, on the contrary, the german machines took the offensive, the order was that, at the hour determined upon, all available machines must rise together to a low altitude, and divide into two distinct fleets, the chasing units flying above the rest. these two fleets must then make for the point of attack, gaining height as they go, and must engage the enemy above the lines with the utmost energy, never giving up the pursuit until they reach the french lines, when the danger from anti-aircraft batteries becomes too great. from this it is evident that the preference of german aviation for taking the offensive was not sufficient to induce it to offer battle above the enemy lines, and the tendency of the staff was to group squadrons into overpowering masses. the french had preceded their opponents in the way of technical progress, but the germans made up for the inferiority, as usual, by method and system. the french were unrivaled for technical improvements, and the training of their pilots. their new machine, the spad, was a first-rate instrument, superior in strength, speed, and ease of control to the best albatros, and the germans knew that this inferiority must be obviated. all modern battles are thus preceded by technical rivalry. the preparation in factories, week after week, and month after month, ultimately results in living machinery which the staff uses as it pleases. living machinery it is, but it is in appearance only that it seems to be independent of man. a battle is a collective work, to which each participant, from the general-in-chief to the road-mender behind the lines, brings his contribution. colossal though the whole seems, perfect as the enormous machine seems to be, it would not work if there were not behind it a weak man made of poor flesh. a humble gunner, the anonymous defenders of a trench, a pilot who purges the air of the hostile presence, an observer who secures information in good time, some poor soldier who has no idea that his individual action was connected with the great drama, has occasionally brought about wonderful results--as a stone falling into a pool makes its presence felt to the remotest banks. amidst the fighters on the aisne, guynemer was at his post in the storks escadrille. "all right! (sic) they tumble down," he wrote laconically to his family. there were indeed some five tumbling down: on may he had surpassed all that had been done so far in aërial fights, bringing down four german machines in that one day. his notebook states the fact briefly: . .--downed a two-seater, which lost a wing as it fell and was smashed on the trees meters nne. of corbeny. . .--another two-seater downed, in flames, above juvincourt.--with captain auger, forced another two-seater to dive down to meters, one kilometer from our lines. downed a d.f.w.[ ] in flames above courlandon. downed a two-seater in flames between guignicourt and condé-sur-suippes. dispersed with captain auger a squadron of six one-seaters. [footnote : the d.f.w. (_deutsche flugzeug werke_) is a scouting machine provided with two machine-guns, one shooting through the propeller, the other mounted on a turret aft. it is thirty-nine feet across the wings, and twenty-four in length. one benz six-cylinder engine of / h.p. its speed at an altitude of meters supposed to be kilometers an hour. one of these machines has been on view at the invalides since july, .] now, his excellency, lieutenant general von hoeppner, _kommandeur der luftstreitkräfte_, being interviewed two days later by newspaper men he had summoned for the purpose, told them and through them told germany and, if possible, the whole world, that the german airplanes and the german airmen were unrivaled. "as for the french aviators," he went on to say remarkably apropos, "they only engage our men when they are sure of victory. when they have doubts about their own superiority, they prefer to desist rather than take any risks." this solemn lie the newspaper men repeated at once in their issues of may . a few months later one of these same reporters, reverting to the subject of french aviation, took guynemer himself to task in the _badische presse_ for august , , as follows: "the airman you see flying so high is the famous guynemer. he is the rival of the most daring german aviators, an _as_, as the french call their champions. he is undoubtedly to be reckoned with, for he handles his machine with absolute mastery, and he is an excellent shot. but he only accepts an air fight when every chance is on his side. he flies above the german lines at altitudes between and meters, quite out of range of our anti-aircraft artillery. he cannot make any observations, for from that height he sees nothing clearly, not even troops on the march. he is exclusively a chasing flyer bent on destroying our own machines. he has been often successful, though he cannot be compared to our own richtofen. he is very prudent; always flying, as i said above, at an altitude of at least meters, he waits till an airplane rises from the german lines or appears on its way home. then he pounces upon it as a falcon might, and opens fire with his machine-gun. when he only wounds the pilot, or if our airman seems to show fight, guynemer flies back to his own lines at the incredible speed of kilometers an hour, which his very powerful machine makes possible. he never accepts a fair fight. every man chases as he can." "every man chases as he can." quite so. to revert to that th of may, the "very prudent" guynemer, on his morning patrol, met three german airplanes flying towards the french lines. they were two-seaters, less nimble, no doubt, than one-seaters, but provided with so much more dangerous arms. naturally he could not think of attacking them, "not feeling sure of victory," and "always avoiding a risky contest!" yet he pounced upon his three opponents, who promptly turned back. however, he overtook one, began making evolutions around him, succeeded in getting slightly below him, fired, and with his first volley succeeded in bringing him down in flames north of corbeny (northeast of craonne). the danger for a one-seater is to be surprised from behind. just as guynemer veered round, he saw another machine flying after him. he again fired upwards, and the airplane fell in flames, like the first, only a few seconds having elapsed between the two fights. guynemer then returned to camp. but he was excited by these two fights; his nerves were strained and his will was tense. he soon started again. towards noon a german machine appeared above the camp itself. how had it been able to get there? this is what the airmen down below were asking themselves. it was useless to chase it, for it would take any of them longer to rise than the german to escape. so they had to content themselves with looking up, some of them searching the sky with binoculars. everybody was back except guynemer, when somebody suddenly cried: "here comes guynemer!" "then the boche is done for." guynemer, in fact, was coming down upon his prey like lightning, and the instant he was behind and slightly beneath him, he fired. only one shot from the machine-gun was heard, but the enemy airplane was already spinning down, its engine going full speed, and was dashed into the earth at courlandon near fismes. the pilot had been shot through the head. in the afternoon the very prudent guynemer started for the third time, and towards seven o'clock, above the guignicourt market gardens (that is to say, in the enemy lines), he brought down another machine in flames. "very prudent" is the last epithet one could have expected to see in connection with the name of guynemer. for he rarely came home without bullet-holes in his wings or even in his clothes. the boche, being the boche, had shown his usual respect for truth and generosity towards an adversary. guynemer, when returning to camp after a victory, generally announced his success by making his engine work to some tune. this time the cadence was the tune of the _lampions_. all the neighboring airplane sheds understood, also the cantonments, parks, depots, dugouts, field hospitals and railway stations; in a word, all the communities scattered behind the lines of an army. this time the motor was singing so insistently that everybody, with faces upturned, concluded that their guynemer had been "getting them." in fact, the news was already spreading like wildfire, as news has the mysterious capacity for doing. no, it was not simply one airplane he had set ablaze; it was two, one above corbeny, the other above juvincourt. and people had hardly realized the wonderful fact before the third machine was seen falling in flames near fismes. it was seen by hundreds of men who thought it was about to fall upon them, and ran for shelter. meanwhile, guynemer's engine was singing. and for the fourth time it was heard again at twilight. could it be possible? had guynemer really succeeded four times? four machines brought down in one day by one pilot was what no infantryman, gunner, pioneer, territorial, anamite or senegalese had ever seen. and from the stations, field hospitals, dugouts, depots, parks and cantonments, while the setting sun lingered in the sky on this may evening, whoever handled a shovel, a pickaxe or a rifle, whoever laid down rails, unloaded trucks, piled up cases, or broke stones on the road, whoever dressed wounds, gave medicine or carried dead men, whoever worked, rested, ate or drank--whoever was alive, in a word--stepped out, ran, jostled along, arrived at the camp, got helterskelter over the fences, broke into the sheds, searched the airplanes, and called to the mechanicians in their wild desire to see guynemer. there they were, a whole town of them, knocking at every door and peeping into every tent. somebody said: "guynemer is asleep." whereupon, without a word of protest, without a sound, the crowd streamed out and scattered in the darkening fields, threading its way back to the quiet dells behind the lines. so ended the day of the greatest aërial victory. ii. a visit to guynemer _sunday, june , ._ to-day, the first sunday of june, the women from the neighboring villages came to visit the camp. nobody is allowed to enter, but from the road you can see the machines start or land. the day was glorious, and the broad sun transfiguring these french landscapes, with their elongated valleys, their wooded ranges of hills, and generally harmonious lines suggested greece, and one looked around for the colonnades of temples. beyond the rolling country rose the aisne cliffs, where the fighting was incessant, though its roar was scarcely perceived. why had these villages been attracted to this particular camp? because they knew that here, in default of greek temples, were young gods. they wanted to see guynemer. the news had flown on rapid wings from hamlet to hamlet, from farm to farm, of what had happened on the th, and on the next day guynemer had been almost equally successful. several aviators had already landed, men with famous names, but the public cannot be expected to remember them all. finally an airplane descended in graceful spirals, landing softly and rolling along close to the railings. "_guynemer!_" but the pilot, unconscious of the worshiping crowd, took off his helmet, disclosed a frowning face, and began discontentedly to examine his gun. twice that day it had jammed, saving two germans. guynemer was like the painters of old who, by grinding their colors themselves, insured the duration of their works. he resented not being able to make all his weapons himself, his engine, his vickers, and his bullets. at length he seemed willing to leave his machine, and pulled off his heavy war accouterment, which revealed a tall, flexible young man. as he rapidly approached his tent, his every motion watched by the onlookers, a private turned on him a small camera, with a beseeching-- "you'll permit me, _mon capitaine_?" "yes, but quick." he was cross and impatient, and as he stopped he noticed all the eyes of the women watching him ecstatically. he made a despairing gesture. his frown deepened, his figure stiffened, and the snapshot was another failure. hardly any of his portraits are like him. does the fact that he was tall and spare, almost beardless, with an amber-colored, oval face and a regular profile, and raven-hair brushed backwards, give any idea of the force that was in him? if his eyes, dark with golden reflections, could have been painted, they might no doubt have given a more accurate notion of him: his capacity for surveying all space, and his prompt decision, were visible in them, as well as his carefulness and his courage. their glance was so direct, almost brutal, that it could be felt, so to speak, physically; and yet it could suddenly express a cheerful, boyish nature, or disclose his close attention to the technical problems which everlastingly engrossed his mind. guynemer was very different from navarre, with his powerful profile and broad chest like an eagle in repose, and different from nungesser, the nungesser before his wounds had so devastated his body that a medical board wanted to declare him unfit, a decision which he heroically resisted, adding to his thirty victories another triumph over physical disability. guynemer differed from them mentally, too, possessing neither their instinct nor their intuitiveness. these he replaced with scientific accuracy based on study, by a passion for flying, by method allied to fervor, by violent logic. his power was nervous and almost electric. the vicinity of danger drew sparks from him. his most daring exploits were prepared by meditation beforehand, and he never indulged in recklessness without having pondered and calculated. his action was so swift that it might seem instinctive, but under appearances the reasoning element was always present. it was now late, but he was willing to talk to us about that wonderful th of may, for he had no objection to talking about his enemy-chasing; on the contrary, he would tell us details with the same amusement as if he related lucky plays at poker, and with the same knowing ways. there was not the least shade of affectation or of posing in his narrative, but he talked with the simplicity of a child. he told us that his third encounter had been the most enjoyable. he was coming back to lunch, had seen the impudent german soaring above the camp, had fired, and the man had gone down dead. after this exceedingly brief account he laughed as usual, a fresh laugh like a girl's, and his eyes closed. he said he was sleepy; he had been out twice, and before he went again he wanted a little rest. * * * * * i remember how bustling the camp looked! it was half-past six, and the weather was wonderful, with not a cloud in the sky, for some floating white flakes in the blue could not be called clouds. but these white flakes began to multiply; they were, in fact, an enemy patrol, which had succeeded in crossing the lines and was now above us. we counted two, three, four machines, which the sparks of our exploding shells promptly surrounded, while three french spads rose at full speed to meet them. as we stood watching and wondering if the enemy would accept the fight, guynemer suddenly appeared. he had been called, and now he and his comrades, captain auger and lieutenant raymond, came running to their machines. i watched guynemer as he was being put into his leather suit. his whole soul was in his eyes, which glared at one moving point in space as if they themselves could shoot. three of the german machines had already turned back, but the remaining one went on, insolently counting on his own power and speed. i shall never forget guynemer, his face lifted, his eyes illuminated as if hypnotized by this point in space, his figure upright and stiffened like an arrow waiting to be released by the bow. before pulling down his helmet he gave the order: "straight at him." the engines snorted and snored, the propellers began to move, the machines rolled along, and suddenly were seen climbing almost vertically. up above the fight was beginning, and it seemed as if the three starting airplanes could never reach in time the altitude of four or five thousand meters at which it was taking place. the attacking spad was obviously trying to get its opponent within firing range, but the german was a first-rate pilot and dodged without losing height, banking, looping, taking advantage of the frenchman's dead angles, and striving to get him under his machine-gun. round and round the two airplanes circled, when suddenly the german bolted in the direction of the aisne cliffs. but the spad partly caught up with him and the aërial circling began anew, while two other spads appeared--a pack after a deer. the german cleverly took advantage now of the sun, now of the evening vapors, but he was within range, and the tack-tack of a machine-gun was heard. guynemer and the other two were coming nearer, when the spad dropped beneath its adversary and fired upwards. the german plunged, and we expected would sink, but he righted himself and was off in an instant. however, this was guynemer's chance: three shots, not more, from his gun, and the german airplane crashed down somewhere near muizon, on the banks of the vesle.[ ] [footnote : this victory was not put down to guynemer's account, because another airman had shot first--which gives an idea of the french controlling board's severity.] one after another, the victorious birds came back to cover from every part of the violet and rosy sky. but joy over their success must show itself, and they indulged in all the fanciful caprioles of acrobatic aviation, spinning down in quick spirals, turning somersaults, looping or plunging in a glorious sky-dance. last of these young gods, guynemer landed after one final circle, and took off his helmet, offering to the setting sun his illuminated face, still full of the spirit of battle. iii. guynemer in camp on the somme guynemer was one of the great french champions; on the aisne he became their king. no enemy could resist him, and his daring appeared without bounds. on may he attacked alone a squadron of six two-seaters above auberive at an altitude of meters, and compelled them to go down to an altitude of meters. before landing, he pounced on another group of eight, scattering them and bringing down one, completely smashed, with its fuselage linen in rags, among the shell-holes in a field. he was like the cid campeador, to whom the sheik jabias said: ...vous éclatiez, avec des rayons jusqu'aux cieux, dans une préséance éblouissante aux yeux; vous marchiez, entouré d'un ordre de bataille; aucun sommet n'était trop haut pour votre taille, et vous étiez un fils d'une telle fierté que les aigles volaient tous de votre côté.... his feats exceeded all hopes, and his appearance in the sky fairly frightened the enemy. on june , after bringing down an albatros east of berry-au-bac, he chased to the east of rheims a d.f.w., which had previously been attacked by other spads. "my nose was right on him," says guynemer's notebook, "when my machine-gun jammed. but just then the observer raised his hands. i beckoned to him several times to veer towards our lines, but noticing that he was making straight for his own, i went back to my gun, which now worked, and fired a volley of fifteen (at altitude). immediately the machine upset, throwing the observer overboard, and sank on berru forest." however, guynemer's day's work was not done to his satisfaction after these two victories (his forty-fourth and forty-fifth): he attacked a group of three, and later on a group of four, and came back with bullets in his machine. meanwhile he had been made, on june , , an officer of the legion of honor with the following citation: a remarkable officer, a daring and dexterous chaser. has been of exceptional service to the country both by the number of his victories and by the daily example of his never-flagging courage and constantly increasing mastery. careless of danger, he has become, by the infallibility of his methods, the most formidable opponent of german flyers. on may achieved unparalleled success, bringing down two machines in one minute, and two more in the course of the same day. by these exploits has contributed to maintaining the courage and enthusiasm of the men who, from the trenches, have witnessed his triumphs. forty-five machines brought down; twenty citations; twice wounded. this document, eloquent and accurate and tracing facts to their causes, praises in guynemer at the same time will-power, courage, and the contagion of example. guynemer loved the last sentence, because it associated with his fights their daily witnesses, the infantrymen in the trenches. the badge of an officer in the legion of honor was given to him at the aviation camp on july by general franchet d'esperey, in command of the northern armies. but this solemn ceremony had not prevented guynemer from flying twice, the first time for two hours, the second flight one hour, on a new machine from which he expected wonders. he attacked three d.f.w.'s, and had to land with five bullets in his engine and radiator. his new decoration was given him at four o'clock on a beautiful summer afternoon. guynemer's comrades were present, of course, and as pleased as if the function had concerned themselves. the th company of the d regiment of infantry took its station opposite the imposing row of squadron machines, sixty in number, which stood there like race horses as if to take part in the fête. guynemer's well-known airplane, the _vieux-charles_, was the fifth to the left, its master having required its presence, though it had been injured that very day. in front of the aviation and regimental flags the young aviator stood by himself in his black _vareuse_, looking slight and pale, but upright, with eyes sparkling. at a little distance a few civilians--his own people, whom the general had invited--watched the proceedings. general franchet d'esperey appeared, a robust, energetic man, and the following scene, described by one of the trench papers--the _brise d'entonnoirs_ of the d infantry--took place: "the general stopped before the young hero and eyed him with evident pleasure; then he proclaimed him a gallant soldier, touched his two shoulders with his sword, as they did to champions of past ages, pinned the _rosette_ on his coat, and embraced him. then to the stirring tune of '_sambre-et-meuse_' the band and the soldiers marched in front of the new officer who, the ceremony now being over, joined his relatives some distance away." general d'esperey, looking over guynemer's _vieux-charles_, noticed the damaged parts. "how comes it that your foot was not injured?" he asked, pointing to one of the bullet-holes. "i had just removed it, _mon général_," said guynemer, with his usual simplicity. none of the airmen with whom guynemer shared his joy ever forgot that afternoon of july , . the summer sun, the serene beauty of the hills bordering the aisne, the distant bass of the battle, lent to the scene an enchanting but solemn interest. tragic memories were in the minds of all the bystanders, and great names were on their lips--the names of retiring, noble, hard-working dorme, reported missing on may , and of captain lecour-grandmaison, creator of the three-seaters, who, on one of these machines, brought down five germans, but was killed in a combat on may and brought back to camp dead by a surviving comrade. guynemer's red _rosette_ meant glory to the great chasers, to wounded heurtaux, to ménard and deullin, to auger, fonck, jailler, guérin, baudouin, and all their comrades! and it meant glory to the pilots and observers who, always together in the discharge of duty, are not infrequently together in meeting death: to lieutenant fressagues, pilot, and sous-lieutenant bouvard, observer, who once fought seven germans and managed to bring one down; to lieutenant floret and lieutenant homo, who, placed in similar circumstances, set two machines on fire; to lieutenant viguier who, on april , had the pluck to come down to twenty-five meters above the enemy's lines and calmly make his observations; and to so many others who did their duty with the same daring, intelligence, and conscientiousness, to the hundreds of more humble airmen who, while the infantry says the sanguinary mass, throw down from above, like the chorister boys in the _corpus christi_ procession, the red roses of epics! the whole storks escadrille had received from general duchêne the following _citation_: "escadrille no. . commander: captain heurtaux. a brilliant chasing escadrille which for the past two years has fought in every sector of the front with wonderful spirit and admirable self-sacrifice. the squadron has just taken part in the lorraine and champagne operations, and during this period its members have destroyed fifty-three german machines which, added to others previously brought down, makes a total of one hundred and twenty-eight certainly demolished, and one hundred and thirty-two partly disabled." this battle on the aisne, with its famous climax at the chemin des dames, began to slacken in july; and it was decided that the chasing squadrons, including the storks, should be transferred to one of the british sectors where another offensive was being prepared. but before leaving the fismes or rheims district, guynemer was active. he had not been given his new rank in the legion of honor to be idle: that was not his way. on the contrary, his habit was to show, after receiving a distinction as well as before, that he was worthy of it. on july he engaged five two-seaters, and brought down one in flames. the next day his notebook records two more victories: "attacked with adjutant bozon-verduraz, four albatros one-seaters, above brimont. downed one in flames north of villers-franqueux, in our own lines. attacked a d.f.w. which spun down in our lines at moussy." these victories, his forty-sixth, forty-seventh, and forty-eighth, were his farewell to the aisne. but these excessive exertions brought on nervous fatigue. the escadrille had only just reached its new station, when guynemer had to go into hospital, whence he wrote his father on july as follows: dear father: knocked out again. hospital. but this time i'm flourishing. no more wooden barracks, but a farmhouse right in the fields. i have a room all to myself. quite correct: i downed three fritzes, one ablaze, and the next day again great sport: mistook four boches for frenchmen. at first fought three of them, then one alone at to meters. he took fire. they will have to wait till the earth dries so they can dig him out. an hour later a two-seater turned up at . he blundered, and fell straight down on a , which died of the shock. but so did the passenger. the pilot was simply a bit excited, for which he couldn't be blamed. his machine had not plunged, but came down slowly, with its nose twirling, and i got his two guns intact.... the _toubib_ (doctor) says i shall be on my feet in three or four days. don't see many boches just now, but that won't last. i read in a newspaper that i had been mobbed in a friendly manner in paris. i must be ubiquitous without knowing it. modern science brings about marvels, modern journalism also. raymond has two strings (officer's stripes) and the cross of the legion. please congratulate him. good night, father. georges. p.s. i, who get seasick over nothing at all, have just been out to sea for the first time. the water was very rough, especially for a little motor-boat, but i smiled serenely through it all. wasn't i proud!... in fact, some newspaper had announced that guynemer would carry the aviation flag in the parade of the fourteenth of july in paris, and this was enough to persuade the crowd that some other airman was guynemer. indeed, there had been talk of sending him to paris on that solemn occasion, but he had declined. he loved glory, but hated show, and he had followed his squadron to flanders, where he had taken to his bed. the foregoing letter bears guynemer's mark unmistakably. the son of rich parents rejoicing over having a room to himself, after having renounced all comfort from the very first day of his enlistment, and willing to begin as _garçon d'aérodrome_; the joke about the german airplane sunk so deep in the wet ground that it would have to be dug out, and the surprise of the pilot; the delight over raymond's promotion; the amusing allusion to sea-sickness by the man who had no equal in air navigation, are all characteristic details. sheik jabias thus sums up his impressions after visiting the cid in his camp: vous dominiez tout, grand, sans chef, sans joug, sans digue, absolu, lance au poing, panache, au front.... and that cid had never fought up in the air. iv. guynemer in his father's house to quote him once more, sheik jabias, after being dazzled by the cid in his camp, is supposed to see him in his father's castle at bivar, doing more humble work. ...que s'est-il donc passé? quel est cet équipage? j'arrive, et je vous trouve en veste, comme un page, dehors, bras nus, nu-tête, et si petit garçon que vous avez en main l'auge et le caveçon, et faisant ce qu'il sied aux écuyers de faire, --cheick, dit le cid, je suis maintenant chez mon père. those who never saw guynemer at his father's at compiègne cannot know him well. of course, even in camp he was the best of comrades, full of his work, but always ready to enjoy somebody else's success, and speaking about his own as if it were billiards or bridge. his renown had not intoxicated him, and he would have been quite unconscious of it had he not sometimes felt that unresponsiveness on the part of others which is the price of glory: anything like jealousy hurt him as if it had been his first discovery of evil. in kipling's _jungle book_, mowgli, the man cub, noticing that the jungle hates him, feels his eyes and is frightened at finding them wet. "what is this, bagheera?" he asks of his friend the panther. "oh, nothing; only tears," answers bagheera, who had lived among men. one who, on occasion, told guynemer _not to mind_ knows how deep was his sensitiveness, not to the presence of real hostility, which he fortunately never encountered, but even to an obscure germ of jealousy. the moment he felt this he shrank into himself. his native exuberance only displayed itself under the influence of sympathy. friendship among airmen is manly and almost rough, not caring for formulas or appearances, but proving itself by deeds. to these men the games of war are astonishingly like school games, and are spoken of as if they were nothing else. when a comrade has not come back, and dinner has to begin without him, no show of sorrow is tolerated: only these young men's hearts feel the absence of a friend, and the casual visitor, not knowing, might take them for sporting men, lively and jolly. guynemer was living his life in perfect confidence, feeling no personal ambition, not inclined to enjoy honors more than work, ignoring all affectation or attitudinizing, never politic, and naturally unconscious of his own simplicity. yet he loved and adored what we call glory, and would tell anybody of his successes, even of his decorations, with a childlike certitude that these things must delight others as much as himself. his french honors were of course his great pride, but he highly appreciated those which he had received from allied governments, too: the distinguished service order, the cross of st. george, the cross of leopold, the belgian war medal, serbian and montenegrin orders, etc. all these ribbons made a bright show, and although he generally wore only the _rosette_ of the legion of honor, he would sometimes deck himself out in them all, or carry them in his pocket and occasionally empty them out on a table, as at school he used to tumble out the untidy contents of his desk in search of his task. when he went to paris to see to his machines, he first secured a room at the hôtel edouard vii, and immediately posted to the buc works. when he had time he would invite himself to dinner at the house of his schoolmate at the collège stanislas, lieutenant constantin. "every time he came," this officer writes, "some new exploit or a new decoration had been added to his list. he never wore all his medals, his 'village-band banner,' as he amusingly called them; but when people asked to see them, he immediately searched his pockets and produced the whole disorderly lot. when he became officer in the legion, he appeared at my mother's quite radiant, so that she asked him the reason of this unusual joy. 'regardez bien, madame, there is something new.' the new thing which my mother discovered was a tiny _rosette_ ornamenting his red ribbon." this _rosette_ was so very small that nobody noticed it, and guynemer felt that he must complain to the shopman at the palais royal who had sold it to him. "give me a larger one, a huge one," he said; "nobody sees this." * * * * * the tradesman spread a number of _rosettes_ on his counter, but guynemer only took back again the one of which he had complained, and went out laughing as if the whole thing had been a good joke. his officer's stripes gave him as much pleasure as his decorations. every time he was promoted, he wanted his stripes sewn on, not in a day or an hour, or even five minutes, but immediately. he received his captain's commission the same day he had been given the distinguished service order, and he promptly went to see his friend, captain de la tour, who was wounded in the hospital at nancy. this officer had lost three brothers in action, and loved guynemer as if he had been another younger brother. indeed, guynemer said later that la tour loved him more than any other did. "don't you see any change in me?" guynemer asked. "no, you're just as usual." "no, there's a change!" "oh, i see; you mean your english order; it does look well." "there's something else. look closer." la tour at last discovered the three stripes on the cap and sleeves. "what! are you a captain?" "yes, a captain," and guynemer laughed his boyish laugh.--this kid a captain! so i am not an impressive captain, then? i haven't run risks enough to be a captain, probably!--his laugh said all this. lieutenant constantin also says in his notes: "guynemer disliked walking about paris, because people recognized him. when he saw them turn to look at him, he would grumble at the curse of having a face that was public property. so he preferred waiting for evening, and then drove his little white car up the champs elysées to the bois. he enjoyed this peaceful recreation thoroughly, and forgot the excitement of his life at the front. memories of our boyhood days came back to him, and he dwelt on them with delight: 'do you remember one day in _seconde_ when we quarreled and fought like madmen? you made such a mark on my arm that it is there yet.' he did not mind, but i was ashamed of having been such a young brute. another day, in may, , coming home on leave i met georges just as he stepped out of his hotel, and as i had just been mentioned in dispatches i told him about it. immediately he dragged me into a shop, bought a _croix de guerre_, pinned it on my _vareuse_, and hugged me before everybody." guynemer had a genius for graciousness, and his imagination was inexhaustible when he wished to please, but his temper was hot and quick. one day he had left his motor at the door of the hotel, and some practical joker thought it clever to leave a note in the car with this inscription in large letters: aviators to the front! guynemer did not take the joke at all, and was boiling with rage. his complete freedom from conceit has often been remarked. at a luncheon given in his honor by the well-known deputy, captain lasies, he would not say a word about himself, but extolled his comrades until somebody said: "you are really modesty itself." whereupon another guest asked: "could you imagine him bragging?" guynemer was delighted, and when the party broke up he went out with the gentleman who had said this and thanked him warmly. "don't you see how little they understand? i don't say i am modest, but if i weren't i would be a fool, and i should not like to be that. i know quite well that just now some of us are getting so much admiration and so many honors that one may get more than one's share. whereas the men in the trenches--how different it is with them!"[ ] [footnote : _journal des débats_ for september , .] but it was inevitable that he should be lionized. people came to him with albums and pictures. he wrote to his father that a madame de b. wanted something, just one sentence, in an album which was to be sold in america. "i am to be alongside the generalissimo. what on earth can i write?" an american lady who was also a guest at the hôtel edouard vii wanted to have at any price some souvenir of the young hero. she ordered her maid to bring away an old glove of guynemer's which was lying on a chest of drawers, and replace it by a magnificent bouquet. "this lady put me in a nice dilemma," guynemer explained, "as it was sunday and there was no way of getting any more gloves."[ ] [footnote : anecdote related in the _figaro_ for september , .] he had no affectation, least of all the kind that pretends to be ignorant of one's own popularity; but surely he cared little for popularity. here again he puts us in mind of a medieval poem. in _gilbert de metz_, one of our oldest epics, the daughter of anséis is described seated at the window, "fresh, slim, and white as a lily" when two knights, garin and his cousin gilbert, happen to ride near. "look up, cousin gilbert," says garin, "look. by our lady, what a handsome dame!" "oh," answers gilbert, "what a handsome creature my steed is! i never saw anything so lovely as this maiden with her fair skin and dark eyes. i never knew any steed that could compare with mine." and so on, while gilbert still refuses to look up at the beautiful daughter of anséis. also in _girard de viane_, charlemagne, holding his court at the palace of vienne, has just placed the hand of the lovely aude in that of his nephew roland. both the girl and the great soldier are silent and blushing while the date of the wedding is being discussed, when a messenger suddenly rushes in: "the saracens are in france! war! war!" shout the bystanders. then without a word roland drops the white hand of the girl, springs to arms, and is gone. so guynemer would have praised his nieuport or his spad as gilbert praised his steed, and _belle aude_ herself could not have kept him away from the fight. [illustration: combat] one day his father felt doubts about the capacity of such a young man to resist the intoxication of so much flattery from men and women. "don't worry," guynemer answered, "i am watching my nerves as an acrobat watches his muscles. i have chosen my own mission, and i must fulfil it." after his death, one of his friends, the one who spoke to him last, told me: "he used to put aside heaps of flattering letters which he did not even read. 'read them if you like,' he said to me, and i destroyed them. he only read letters from children, schoolboys and soldiers." in _l'aiglon_ prokesch brings the mail to the prince imperial, and handing him letters from women, he says: voilà ce que c'est d'avoir l'auréole fatale. as soon as prokesch begins to read them, the prince stops him with the words: "_je déchire_." even when a woman whom he has nicknamed "little spring"--"because the water sleeping in her eyes or purling in her voice has often cooled his fever"--announces her departure, hoping he may detain her, he lets her go, whispering again like a refrain, "_je déchire_." did guynemer deal with hearts as he dealt with the besieging letters, or as the falcon of st. jean l'hospitalier dealt with birds?--no "little spring," had her voice been ever so rill-like, could have detained him when a sunny morning invited him skywards. * * * * * safe from the admiring public, guynemer would relax and breathe freely with his people at compiègne, where he became once more a lively, noisy, indulged, but coaxing and charming boy, except when absorbed in work, from which nothing could distract him. he spent hours in pasting and classifying the snapshots he took of his enemies just before pulling the trigger of his machine-gun and bringing them down. one of his greatest pleasures when on leave was to arrange and show these photographs. his eyes, which saw everything, were keen to detect the least changes in the arrangement of his home, even when mere knickknacks had been moved about. at each visit he found the house ornamented with some new trophy of his exploits. he was delighted to find that a miniature barkentine, which he had built with corks, paper, and thread when he was seven years old, still stood on his mother's mantelpiece. even at that age his powers of observation had been evident, and he had forgotten no detail of sails or rigging. he had taken again so naturally his old place in the family circle that his mother forgot once and called the tall, famous young man by his old familiar name, "_bébé_." she quickly corrected herself, but he said: "i am always that to you, mother." "i was happier when you were little," she observed. "i hope you are not vexed with me, mother." "vexed for what?" "for having grown up." he was naturally full of the one subject that interested him, airplanes and chasing, and he would go round the house collecting audiences. strange bits of narration could be overheard from different rooms as he held forth: "then i _embusqued_ myself became a slacker...." "what!" "oh! i _embusqued_ myself behind a cloud." or, "the light dazzled me, so i hid the sun with my wing." he never forgot his sisters' birthdays, but he could not always give them the present he preferred. "sorry i could not present you with a boche." he was hardly different when his mother received company: he was never seen to play the great man. only on one subject he always and instantly became serious, namely, when the future was mentioned. "do not let us make any plans," he would say. * * * * * a page from one of my own notebooks will help to show guynemer as i used to see him in his home. _wednesday, june , ._--compiègne. called on the guynemers. he is fascination itself with his "goddess on the clouds" gait--as if he remembered when walking that he could also fly--with his incomparable eyes, his perpetual movement, his interior electricity, his admixture of elegance and ardor, and with that impulse of his whole being towards one object which suggests the antique runner, even when he is for an instant in repose. his parents and sisters do not miss a single gesture, a single motion he makes. they drink in his every word, and his life seems to absorb them. his laugh echoes in their souls. they believe in him, are sure of him, sure of his future, and that all will be well. noticing this certitude, whether real or assumed, i could not help stealing a glance at the frail god of aviation, made like the delicate statuettes that we dread breaking. he talks passionately, as usual, of his aërial fights. but just now one thought seems to supersede every other. he is expecting a new machine, a magic machine which he planned long ago, found difficult to get built, and with which he must do more damage than ever. then he showed us his photographs with the white blotches of bursting shells, or the gray wings of german airplanes. one of these is seen as it falls in flames, the pilot falling, too, some distance away from it. thus the victim was registered, and the memory of it made him happy. i swallowed a question i was going to ask: what about yourself--some day? because he looked so full of life that the notion of death could never present itself to him. but he seemed to have read my thoughts, for he said: "you have plenty of time in the air, except when you fight, and then you have no time at all. i've been brought down six times, and i always had plenty of time to realize what was happening." and he laughed his clear, boyish laugh. as a matter of fact, he has been incredibly lucky. in one fight he was hit three times, and each time the bullet was deadened by some unexpected obstacle. finally i was shown photographs of himself, chronologically arranged. needless to say, it was not he who showed them. there was the half-nude baby, with eyes already sparkling and eager, then the schoolboy with the fine carriage of the head, then the lad fresh from school with a singularly calm expression, and well filled-out cheeks. a little later the expression appeared more mature and tense, though still ingenuous. later again there was a decidedly stern look, with the face less oval and thinner. the rough fingers of war had chiseled this face, and sharpened and strengthened it. i looked from the picture to him, and i realized that, compared to his former pictures, his expression had now indeed acquired something terrible. but just then he laughed, and the laughter conjured away all phantasies. v. the magic machine as a tiny boy who had invented an enchanted bed for his sisters' dolls, as a boy who, at collège stanislas, had rigged up a telephone to send messages to the last forms in the schoolroom, or manufactured miniature airplanes, as a recruit who, at pau, had gladly accepted the work of cleaning, burnishing, and overhauling engines, guynemer had always shown a passion for mechanics. becoming a pilot, and later on a chaser, he exhibited in the study and perfecting of his airplanes the same enthusiasm and perseverance as in his flights. he was everlastingly calling for swifter or more powerful machines, and not only strove to communicate his own fervor to technicians, but went into minute details, suggested improvements, and whenever he had a chance visited the workshops and assisted at trials. such trials are sometimes dangerous. one of his friends, edouard de layens, was killed in this kind of accident, and guynemer was enraged that a gallant airman should perish otherwise than in battle. he was in reality an inventor, though this statement may cause surprise, and though it may not be wise at present to bear it out by facts. every part of his machine or of his gun was familiar to him. he had handled them all, taking them apart and putting them together again. there are practical improvements in modern airplanes which would not be there had it not been for him. and there is a "guynemer visor." confidence and authoritativeness had not come to him along with glory, for from the first he talked as one engrossed by his ideas, and it is because he was thus engrossed that he found persuasive words to bring others round to his views. but, naturally enough, he had not at first the prestige which he possessed when he became captain guynemer, had high rank in the legion of honor, and enjoyed world-wide fame. in his 'prentice days when, in workshops or in the presence of well-known builders, he would make confident statements, inveigh against errors, or demand modifications, people thought him flippant and saucy. once somebody called him a raw lad. the answer came with crushing rapidity: "when you blunder, raw lads like myself pay for your mistakes." it must be admitted that, like most people brought up with wealth, he was apt to be unduly impatient. delays or objections irritated him. he wanted to force his will upon time, which never admits compulsion, and tried to over-ride obstacles. his peculiar fascination gradually won its way even in workshops, and his appearance there was greeted with acclamation, not only because the men were curious to see him, but because they were in sympathy with him and had put his ideas to a successful test. the workmen liked to see him sit in a half-finished machine, and explain in his short, decisive style what he wanted and what was sure to give superiority to french aviation. the men stopped work, came round, and listened eagerly. this, too, was a triumph for him. what he told them on such occasions he had probably whispered to himself many times before when, on rainy days, he would sit in his airplane under the hangar, and think and talk to himself, while strangers wondered if he was not crazy. however, he had made friends with well-known engineers, especially major garnier of puteaux and m. béchereau of the spad works. these two, instead of dismissing him as a snappish airman continually at variance with the builder, took his inventions seriously and strove to meet his requirements. when m. béchereau, after long delays, was at last decorated for his eminent services, the secretary of aëronautics, m. daniel vincent, came to the works and was going to place the medal and red ribbon on the engineer's breast, when he saw guynemer standing near. he graciously handed the medal over to the airman, saying: "give m béchereau his decoration; it is only fair you should." in september, , guynemer had tried at the front one of the first two spads. on the th he wrote to m. béchereau: "well, the spad has had her _baptême du feu_. the others were six: an aviatik at , an l.v.g. at , and four rumplers jostling one another with barely meters in between at meters. when the four saw me coming (at on the speedometer) they no doubt took me for a meteorite and funked, and when they got over it and back to their shooting (fine popping, though) it was too late. my gun never jammed once." here he went into technicalities about his new machine-gun, but further on reverted to the spad: "she loops wonderfully. her spin is a bit lazy and irregular, but deliciously soft." the letter concludes with many suggestions for minor improvements. his correspondence with m. béchereau was entirely devoted to a study of airplanes: he never wandered from the subject. thus he collaborated with the engineer by constantly communicating to him the results of his experience. his machine-gun was the great difficulty. "yesterday," he wrote on october , , "five boches, three of them above our lines, came within ten meters of the muzzle of my gun, and impossible to shoot. four days ago i had to let two others get away. sickening.... the weather is wonderful. perhaps the gun will work now." in fact, a few days later he wrote exultingly, having discovered that the jamming was due to cold and having found an ingenious remedy. _november , ._ day before yesterday i bagged a fokker one-seater biplane. it was two meters off, but as it tumbled into a group of our nieuports, the controlling board would not give the victory to anybody. yesterday got an aviatik ten meters off; passenger shot dead by the first bullet; the plane, all in rags, went down in slow spirals and must have been knocked flat somewhere near berlincourt. heurtaux, who had seen it beginning to fall, brought one down himself ten minutes later, like a regular ball. on november next, after going into particulars concerning his engine which he wanted made stronger, he told m. béchereau of his st and d victories: as for the st, it was a one-seater i murdered as it twirled in elegant spirals down to its own landing ground. no. was a h.p., one of three above our lines. i came upon it unawares in a somersault. passenger stood up, but fell down again in his seat before even setting his gun going. i put some two hundred or two hundred and fifty bullets into him twenty meters away from me. he had taken an invariable angle of ° on the first volley. when i let him go, adjutant bucquet took him in hand--which would have helped if he hadn't already been as full of holes as a strainer. he kept his angle of ° till about meters, when he adopted the vertical, and blazed up on crashing to the ground.... the spad ravished him. it was the heyday of wonderful flights on the somme. yet he wanted something even better; but before pestering m. béchereau he began with an inspiring narrative. _december , ._ i can't grumble; yet yesterday i missed my camera badly. i had a high-class round with an albatros, a fine, clever fellow, between two and ten meters away from me. we only exchanged fifteen shots, and he snapped my right fore-cable--just a few threads still held--while i shot him in the small of his back. a fine spill! (no. ). now, to speak of serious things, i must tell you that the spad h.p. is not much ahead of the halberstadt. the latter is not faster, i admit, but it climbs so much more quickly that it amounts to the same thing. however, our latest model knocks them all out.... the letter adds only some recommendations as to the necessity for more speed and a better propeller. but much more important improvements were already filling his mind. he had conceived plans for a magic airplane that would simply annihilate the enemy, and as he would doggedly carry on a fight, so he ruminated, begged, and urged until his idea was realized. but he was forced to practice exhausting perseverance, and on several occasions the lack of comprehension or sympathy which he encountered infuriated him. yet he never gave up. it was not his way in a workshop, any more than in the air; and when, after some ten months' struggling, trying, and frequent beginning over again, he saw himself at last in possession of the wonderful machine, he rejoiced as a warrior may after forging his own weapons. in january, , he wrote to m. béchereau urging him to make all dispatch: "spring will soon be here, and the germans are working like niggers. if we go to sleep, it will be '_couic_' for us." henceforth his correspondence, sometimes rather dictatorial, with the engineer was entirely devoted to the magic airplane,--its size, controls, wing-tips, tank, weight, etc. the margins of his letters were covered with drawings, and every detail was minutely discussed. in february he wrote to his father as if he had been a builder: "my machine surpasses all expectations, and will soon be at work. in paris i go to bed early and rise ditto, spending all day at spad's. i have no other thought or occupation. it is a fixed idea, and if it goes on i shall become a perfect idiot. when peace is signed, let nobody dare to mention a weapon of any kind in my presence for six months." he thought himself within reach of his goal; but unexpected obstacles would come in his way, and it was not till july , --the same day on which he received the _rosette_ of the legion of honor from general franchet d'esperey at the aisne aviation camp--that he could at last try the long-dreamed-of, long-hoped-for airplane. but in a fight against three d.f.w.'s, the splendid new machine got riddled with bullets, he had to land, and everything had to be begun over again. but guynemer was not afraid of beginning over again, and in fact he was to give the airplane another chance in flanders, and to see all his expectations fulfilled. the th, th, st and d victories of guynemer were due to the magic airplane. he managed to impose his will on matter, and on those who adapt it to the warlike conceptions of man, as he imposed it on the enemy. then, spreading out his wings on high, he might well think himself invincible. canto iv the ascension i. the battle of flanders after the battle on the aisne georges guynemer was ordered to flanders, but he had to take to his bed as soon as he arrived (july, ) and only left the hospital on the th. he then repaired to the new aviation camp outside dunkirk, which at that time consisted of a few rows of tents near the seaside. he was to take part in the contemplated offensive, on his own magic airplane--which he brought from fismes on the d--for the storks escadrille had been incorporated into a fighting unit under major brocard. no disease could be an obstacle to a guynemer when an offensive was in preparation. in fact, all the storks were on the spot: captain heurtaux, now recovered from his wound received in champagne in april, was in command, and captain auger (soon to be killed), lieutenant raymond, lieutenant deullin, lieutenant lagache and _sous-lieutenant_ bucquet were there; while fonck and verduraz, newcomers to the squadron but not by any means unknown, adjutants guillaumat, henin, and petit-dariel, sergeants gaillard and moulines, corporals de marcy, dubonnet, and risacher, completed the staff. as early as june guynemer had soared again. in order to realize the importance of this new battle of flanders which, begun on july , was to rage till the following winter, it may not be out of place to quote a german appreciation. in an issue of the _lokal anzeiger_, published at the end of september, , after two months' uninterrupted fighting, doctor wegener wrote as follows: how can anybody talk of anything but this battle of flanders? is it possible that some people actually grow hot over the parliamentarization, or the loan, or the cost of butter, or the rumors of peace, while every heart and every eye ought to be fixed on these places where soldiers are doing wonderful deeds! this battle is the most formidable that has yet been fought. it was supposed to be ended, but here it is, blazing afresh and promising a tremendous conflagration. the englishman goes on with his usual doggedness, and the last bombardment has excelled in horrible intensity all that has been known so far. even before the signal for storming, the english were drunk with victory, so gigantic was their artillery, so dreadful their guns, so intense their firing.... these lines help us to realize how keen was the anxiety caused in germany by the new offensive coming so soon after the battles of champagne in april. but the lyricism of dr. wegener stood in the way of his own judgment, and prevented him from seeing that the battle on the marne which drove the enemy back, the battle on the yser which brought him to a standstill, and the battle round verdun which effectually wore him out, were each in succession the greatest of the war. the second battle of flanders ought rather to be compared to the battle on the somme, the real consequences of which were not completely visible till the german recoil on the siegfried line took place in march, . while the first battle of flanders had closed the gates of dunkirk and calais against the germans, and marked the end of their invasion, the second one drove a wedge at ypres into the german strength, made formidable by three years' daily efforts, secured the flemish heights, pushed the enemy back into the bog land, and threatened bruges. in the first battle, the french under foch had been supported by the english under marshal french; this time the english, who were the protagonists, under plumer (second army) and gough (fifth army), were supported by the first french army under general anthoine. it was as late as june that general anthoine's soldiers had taken their stand to the left of the british armies, and after the tremendous fights along the chemin des dames and moronvillers in april, it might well be believed that they were tired. they had borne the burden from the very first; they had been on the marne and the yser in , at the numberless and costly offensives of in artois, champagne, lorraine and alsace; and in , after the verdun epic, they had had to fight on the somme. indeed, they had only ceased repelling the enemy's attacks in order to attack in their turn. among the allies, they represented invincible determination, as well as a perfected military method. those troops arriving on june , on ground they had never seen before, might well have been anxious for a respite; yet on july they were in the fighting line with the british. two days before the attack they crossed the yser canal by twenty-nine bridges without losing one man, and showed an intelligence and spirit which added to their ascendancy over the enemy and increased the prestige of the french army. and while marshal haig was finding such an exceptional second in general anthoine, pétain, now commander-in-chief, was aiding the british offensive by attacking the germans at other points on the front: on august the second army under guillaumat was victorious on the meuse, near verdun, while the sixth army under maistre was preparing for the malmaison offensive which on october secured for the french the whole length of the chemin des dames to the river ailette. general anthoine had had less than six weeks in which to see what he could do with the ground, organize the lines of communication, and post his batteries and infantry. but he had no idea of delaying the british offensive, and on the appointed day he was ready. the line of attack for the three armies was some kilometers long, namely, from the ypres-menin road to the confluence of the yperlée and martje-vaert, the french holding the section between drie grachten and boesinghe. it had been settled that the offensive should be conducted methodically, that its objective should be limited, and that it might be interrupted and resumed as often as should seem advisable. the troops were engaged on the st of july, and the first rush carried the french onward a distance of kilometers, not only to steenstraete, which was the objective, but further on to bixchoote and the korteker tavern. the british on their side had advanced yards over heavily fortified or wooded ground, and their new line lay along pilkem, saint-julien, frezenberg, hooge, sanctuary wood, hollebeke and basse-ville. stormy weather on the first of august, and german counter-attacks on saint-julien, prevented an immediate continuation of the offensive, but on august a fresh advance took the french as far as saint-jansbeck, while they seized the bridge-head of drie grachten. general anthoine had been so careful in his artillery preparation that one of the attacking battalions had not a single casualty, and no soldier was even wounded. the french then had to wait until the english had advanced in their turn to the range of hillocks between becelaere and poelcapelle (september and ), but the brilliant british successes on those two dates were making another collective operation possible; and this operation took place on october , and gave the french possession of the outskirts of houthulst forest, while the british fought on till they captured the passchendaele hills. every great battle is now preceded and accompanied by a battle in the air, because if chasing or bombarding squadrons did not police the air before an attack, no photographs of the enemy's lines could be taken; and if they did not afford protection for the observers while the troops are engaged, the batteries would shoot and the infantry progress blindly. it is not surprising, therefore, that the enemy, who could not be deceived as to the importance of the french and british preparations in flanders, had as early as mid-june brought additional airplanes and "sausages," and throughout july terrible contests took place in the air. sometimes these engagements were duels, oftener they were fought by strong squadrons, and on july units consisting of as many as thirty machines were seen on either side, the germans losing fifteen airplanes, and sixteen more going home in a more or less damaged condition. while in hospital, guynemer had heard of these tremendous encounters, and wondered if the enchanting cruises he used to make by himself or with just one companion must be things of the past. was he to be involved in the new tactics and to become a mere unit in a group, or a chief with the responsibility of collective maneuvers? the air knight was incredulous; he thought of his magic airplane and could not persuade himself that, whatever the number of his opponents, he could not single one out for his thunder-clap attack. * * * * * meanwhile the artillery preparation had begun, towards the fifteenth of july, and the earth was quaking to the thundering front at a distance of kilometers. these are flat regions, and there would be no beauty in them if the light radiating from the vapors rising from the fields or the sea did not lend brilliance and relief to the yellow stone villages, the straggling woods or copses, the well-to-do farms, the low hedges, or the tall calvaries at the crossroads. guynemer was in splendid condition. his indisposition of the previous month had been caused by his refusing to sleep at dunkirk, as the others did, until their new quarters were ready. he wanted to be near his machine the moment there was light enough to see by, and slept in some unfinished hangar or under canvas in order not to miss any enterprising german who might take advantage of the dusk to sneak over the lines, spy on our preparations, or bombard our rear. he had paid for his imprudence by a severe cold. but now, comfortable-looking wooden houses stood along the shore, and guynemer was himself again. on july , while patrolling with lieutenant deullin, his chum of somme and of aisne days--in fact, his friend of much older times--he brought down in flames, between langemarck and roulers, a very powerful albatros, apparently a h.p. of the latest model. this fell far within the enemy lines, but enthusiastic british soldiers witnessed the scene. guynemer had chosen this albatros for his victim among eight other machines, and had pulverized it at a distance of a few yards. this victory was his forty-ninth. he secured his fiftieth the very next day, bringing down a d.f.w. in flames over westrobeke, the enemy showing fight, for guynemer's magic airplane was hit in the tail, in one of the longitudinal spars, the exhaust pipe, and the hood, and had to be repaired. this day of glory was also one of mourning for the storks. captain auger who, trusting his star after seven triumphs, had gone scouting alone, was shot in the head, and, after mustering energy enough to bring his machine back to the landing-ground, died almost immediately. fifty machines destroyed! this had been guynemer's dream. the apparently inaccessible figure had gradually seemed a possibility. finally it had become a fact. fifty machines down, without taking into account those which fell too far from the official observers, or those which had been only disabled, or those which had brought home sometimes a pilot, sometimes a passenger, dead in their seats. what would guynemer do now? was he not tired of hunting, killing, or destroying in the high regions of the atmosphere? did he not feel the exhaustion consequent on the nervous strain of unlimited effort? could he be entirely deaf to voices which advised him to rest, now that he was a captain, an officer in the legion of honor, and, at barely twenty-two, could hardly hope for more distinction? on the other hand, he had shown in his unceasing effort towards an absolutely perfect machine a genius for mechanics which might profitably be given play elsewhere. the occasion was not far to seek, for he had to take his damaged airplane back to the works; and what with this interruption and the precarious state of his health--for he had left the hospital too soon--he might reasonably have applied for leave. nor was this all. the adoption of the new tactics of fighting in numbers might change the nature of his action: he might become the commanding officer of a unit, run less risk, indulge his temerity only once in a while, and yet make himself useful by infusing his own spirit into aspiring pilots. slowly all these ideas occurred, if not to him, at all events to his friends. guynemer has slain his fifty--they must have thought--guynemer can now rest. what would it matter if some envious people should make remarks? "it is a pleasure worthy of a king," alexander once said after antisthenes, "to hear evil spoken of one while one is doing good." but guynemer never knew this royal enjoyment; he never even suspected that well-wishers were plotting for his safety. he took his machine to the works, supervised the repairs with his customary attention, and by august he was back again at his sport in flanders. * * * * * meanwhile his comrades had added to their laurels. auger was dead, it is true; but captain derode, adjutant fonck--a perfect aymerillot, the smallest and youngest of these knights-errant, heurtaux, deullin (both wounded, and the latter now risen to a captaincy), lieutenant gorgeus and corporal collins--all had done well. besides them many, too many, bombarding aviators ought to be mentioned, but we must limit ourselves to those who are now laid low in flemish graveyards: lieutenant mulard, sergeant thabaud-deshoulières, _sous-lieutenant_ bailliotz, _sous-lieutenant_ pelletier, who saved his airplane if he could not save his own life, and was heard saying to himself before expiring: "for france--i am happy...."; finally lieutenant ravarra, and sergeant delaunay, who had specialized in night attacks and disappeared without ever being heard of again. guynemer had reported at the camp on august . on the seventeenth, at . o'clock, he brought down a two-seated albatros which fell in flames at wladsloo, and five minutes later a d.f.w. which collapsed, also in flames, south of dixmude. this double execution avenged the death of captain auger and of another stork, sergeant cornet, killed the day before. on the eighteenth, guynemer poured a broadside, at close quarters, into a two-seated machine above staden; and on the twentieth, flying this time on his old _vieux-charles_, he destroyed a d.f.w. in a quick fight above poperinghe. this meant three undoubted victories in four days under circumstances which the number of enemy machines and the high altitude made more difficult than they had ever been. the weather during this month of august was constantly stormy, and the germans were taking every precaution to avoid surprise; but guynemer was quick as lightning, took advantage of the shortest lulls, and baffled german prudence. the british or belgian airmen of the neighborhood called on him, and he liked to return their politeness. he loved to talk about his methods, especially his shooting methods, for flying to him was only the means of shooting, and once he defined his airplane as a flying machine-gun. captain galliot, a specialist in gunsmithery, who overheard this remark, also heard him say to the minister of aviation, m. daniel vincent, who was inspecting the camp at buc: "it is not by clever flying that you get rid of a boche, but by hard and sharp shooting." it is not surprising, therefore, that he began his day's work by overhauling his machine-gun, cartridges, and visor. he did not mind trusting his mechanicians where his airplane and motor were concerned, but his weapon and ammunition were his own special care. he regarded as an axiom the well-known maxim of big-game hunters, that "it is not enough to hit, but you must shoot down your enemy with lightning rapidity if you do not wish to perish with him...."[ ] [footnote : _guynemer tireur de combat_ (_guerre aérienne_ for october , , special number consecrated to guynemer).] of his machine itself guynemer made a terrible weapon, and he soon passed his fiftieth victory. on august his record numbered fifty-three, and he was in as good condition as on the somme. on the th he was on his way to paris, planning not only to have his airplane repaired, but to point out to the buc engineers an improvement he had just devised. ii. omens "oh, yes, the dog always manages to get what he wants," guynemer's father had once said to him with a sad smile, when georges, regardless of his two previous failures, insisted at biarritz upon enlisting. "the dog? what dog?" guynemer had answered, not seeing an apologue in his father's words. "the dog waiting at the door till somebody lets him in. his one thought is to get in while the people's minds are not concentrated on keeping him out. so he is sure to succeed in the end." it is the same thing with our destiny, waiting till we open the door of our life. vainly do we try to keep the door tightly shut against it: we cannot think of it all the time, and every now and then we fall into trustfulness, and thus its hour inevitably comes, and from the opening door it beckons to us. "what we call fatalism," m. bergson says, "is only the revenge of nature on man's will when the mind puts too much strain upon the flesh or acts as if it did not exist. orpheus, it is true, charmed the rivers, trees and rocks away from their places with his lyre, but the maenades tore him to pieces in his turn." we cannot say that the guynemer who flew in flanders was not the same guynemer who had flown over the somme, lorraine or aisne battle-fields. indeed, his mastery was increasing with each fresh encounter, and with his daring he cared little whether the enemy was gaining in numbers or inventing unsuspected tactics. his victories of august and showed him at his boldest best. yet his comrades noticed that his nerves seemed overstrained. he was not content with flying oftener and longer than the others in quest of his game, but fretted if his boche did not appear precisely when he wanted him. when an enemy did not turn up where he was expected, he made up his mind to seek him where he himself was not expected, and he became accustomed to scouting farther and farther away into dangerous zones. was he tired of holding the door tight against destiny, or feeling sure that destiny could not look in? did it not occur to him that his hour, whether near or not, was marked down? indeed, it is certain that the thought not only presented itself to him sometimes, but was familiar. "at our last meeting," writes his school-fellow of stanislas days, lieutenant constantin, "i had been struck by his melancholy expression, and yet he had just been victorious for the forty-seventh time. 'i have been too lucky,' he said to me, 'and i feel as if i must pay for it.' 'nonsense,' i replied, 'i am absolutely certain that nothing will happen to you.' he smiled as if he did not believe me, but i knew that he was haunted by the idea, and avoided everything that might uselessly consume a particle of his energy or disturb his sang-froid, which he intended to devote entirely to boche hunting."[ ] [footnote : unpublished notes by j. constantin.] when had he ceased to think himself invincible? the reader no doubt remembers how he recovered from his wound at verdun, and the shock it might have left, merely by flying and offering himself to the enemy's fire with the firm resolve not to return it. eight times he had been brought down, and each time with full and prolonged consciousness of what was happening. on many occasions he had come back to camp with bullets in his machine, or in his combination. yet these narrow escapes never reacted on his imagination, damped his spirit, or diminished his _furia_. but had he thought himself invincible? he believed in his star, no doubt, but he knew he was only a man. one of his most intimate friends, his rival in glory, the nearest to him since the loss of dorme, the one who was the oliver to this roland, once received this confidence from guynemer: "one of the fellows told me that when he starts up he only thinks of the fighting before him; he found that sufficiently absorbing; but i told him that when the men start my motor i always make a sign to the fellows standing around. 'yes, i have seen it,' he answered; 'the handshake of the airman. it means _au revoir_.' but maybe it is farewell i am inwardly saying," guynemer added, and laughed, for the boy in him was never far from the man. * * * * * towards the end of july, while he was in paris seeing to the repairs for his machine after bringing down his fiftieth enemy, he had gone to compiègne for a short visit. his father, knowing his technical ability and his interest in all mechanical improvements, and on the other hand noticing a nervousness in his manner, dared for the first time to hint timidly and allusively at the possibility of his being useful in some other field. "couldn't you be of service with respect to making engines, etc.?" but he was embarrassed by his son's look of questioning surprise. every time guynemer had used his father's influence in the army, it had been to bring himself nearer to danger. "no man has the right to get away from the front as long as the war lasts," he said. "i see very well what you are thinking, but you know that self-sacrifice is never wasted. don't let us talk any more about it...." on tuesday, august , guynemer, having been obliged to come to paris again for repairs to his airplane, went to saint-pierre de chaillot. it was not exceptional for him to visit this old church; he loved to prepare himself there for his battle. one of the officiating priests has written since his death of "his faith and the transparency of his soul."[ ] the chaillot parishioners knew him well, but pretended not to notice him, and he thought himself one in a crowd. after seeing the priest in the confessional, he usually enjoyed another little chat in the sacristy, and although he was no man for long prayers and meditations, he expressed his thoughts on such occasions in heartfelt and serious language. [footnote : _la croix_, october , , article by pierre l'ermite.] "my fate is sealed," he once said in his playful, authoritative way; "i cannot escape it." and remembering his not very far away latin, he added: "_hodie mihi, cras tibi_...." * * * * * early in september he made up his mind to go back to flanders, although his airplane was not yet entirely repaired. the day before leaving he was standing at the door of the hôtel edouard vii when one of his schoolmates at the collège stanislas, lieutenant jacquemin, appeared. "he took me to his room," this officer relates, "and we talked for more than an hour about schooldays. i asked him whether he had some special dodge to be so successful." "none whatever," he said, "but you remember i took a prize for shooting at stanislas. i shoot straight, and have absolute confidence in my machine." he showed me his numberless decorations, and was just as simple and full of good fellowship as he was at stanislas. it was evident that his head had not been in the least turned by his success; he only talked more and enjoyed describing his fights. he told me, too, that in spite of opposition from airplane builders he had secured a long-contemplated improvement; and that he had had a special camera made for him with which he could photograph a machine as it fell. his parting words were: "i hope to fly to-morrow, but don't expect to see my name any more in the _communiqués_. that's all over: i have bagged my fifty boches." were not these strange words, if indeed guynemer attached any meaning to them? at all events, they expressed his innermost longing, which was to go on flying, even if he should fly for nothing. * * * * * before reporting at dunkirk, guynemer spent september , , and with his people at compiègne. never was he more fascinatingly affectionate, boyish, and bright than during those three days. but he seemed agitated. "let us make plans," he said repeatedly, in spite of his old aversion to castle-building. his plans that day were for the amusement of his sisters. he reminded the younger, yvonne, that he had quarreled once with her. it was at biarritz, when he wanted her to make a _novena_ (nine days' special prayers) that he might not be rejected by the recruiting board again; his sister did not like to promise, and he had threatened to sulk forever, which he had proceeded to do--for five minutes. his mother and sisters thought him more enchanting than ever, but his father felt that he was overstrained, and realized that his almost morbid notion of his duty as a chaser who could no longer wait for his chance but wanted to force a victory, was the result of fatigue. m. guynemer no longer hesitated to speak, adding that the period of rest he advised was in the very interest of his son's service. "you need strengthening; you have done too much. if you should go on, you would be in great danger of falling below yourself, or not really being yourself." "father, war is nothing else. one must pull on, even if the rope should threaten to snap." it was the first time that m. guynemer had given undisguised advice, and he urged his point. "why not stop awhile? your record is pretty good; you might form younger pilots, and in time go back to your squadron." "yes, and people would say that, hoping for no more distinctions, i have given up fighting." "what does it matter? let people talk, and when you reappear in better condition they will understand. you know i never gave you a word of advice which the whole world could not hear. i always helped you, and you always found the most disinterested approval here in your home. but you will admit that human strength has its limits." "yes," georges interposed, "a limit which we must endeavor to leave behind. we have given nothing as long as we have not given everything." m. guynemer said no more. he felt that he had probed his son's soul to the depths, and his pride in his hero did not diminish his sorrow. when they parted he concealed his anguish, but he watched the boy, thinking he would never see him again. his wife and daughters, too, stood on the threshold oppressed by the same feelings, trying to suppress their anxiety and finding no words to veil it. in the iliad, hector, after breaking into the greek camp like a dark whirlwind unexpectedly sweeping the land, and which the gods alone could stop, returns to troy and stopping at the scæan gates waits for achilles, who he knows must be wild to avenge patroclus. old priam sees his son's danger, and beseeches him not to seek his antagonist. hecuba joins her tears to his supplications. but tears and entreaties avail little, and hector, turning a deaf ear to his parents, walks out to meet achilles, as he thinks, but indeed to meet his own fate. on september , guynemer was at the flying field of saint-pol-sur-mer near dunkirk. his old friend, captain heurtaux, so long commander of the storks, was not there; he had been wounded the day before by an explosive bullet, and the english had picked up and evacuated him. heurtaux possessed infinite tact, and had not infrequently succeeded in influencing the rebellious guynemer; but nobody was there to replace him. september was a day of extraordinary activity for guynemer. his magic airplane was still at the works, where he had complained of not having another in reserve; and not being able to wait for it, he sent for his old machine and immediately attacked a d.f.w. at close quarters, as usual; but the boche was saved by the jamming of both of guynemer's guns, and the aviator had to get back to his landing-ground. furious at this failure, he promptly soared up again and attacked a chain of five one-seated planes, hitting two, which however managed to protect each other and escape. after two hours and a half, guynemer went home again, overhauled his guns, found a trigger out of order, and for the third time went up again, scouring the sky for two more hours, indignant to see nothing but prudent germans keeping far out of his reach. so, he had flown five hours and a half in that one day. what nerves could stand such a strain? but guynemer, seeking victory, cared little for strain or nerves. everything seemed to go against him: heurtaux away, his best machine not available, his machine-guns out of order, and germans refusing his challenge. no wonder if he fretted himself into increased irritation. * * * * * guynemer liked lieutenant raymond, and every now and then flew with him. this officer being on leave, guynemer on september asked another favorite comrade, _sous-lieutenant_ bozon-verduraz, to accompany him. the day was sullen, and a thick fog soon parted the two aviators, who lost their way and only managed to get clear of the fog when bozon-verduraz was over nieuport and guynemer over ostend. september was a sunday, and guynemer over-slept and had to be roused by a friend. "aren't you coming to mass?" "of course." the two officers went to mass at saint-pol-sur-mer, and the weather having grown worse guynemer did not fly; but instead of enjoying the enforced rest, he resented it as a personal wrong. next day he flew three times, and was unlucky again every time. on his first flight, on his two-gun machine, he found that the water-pump control did not work, and had to land on a belgian aërodrome, where he was welcomed and asked to sit for his photograph. the picture shows a worried, tense, disquieting countenance under the mask ready to be pulled down. after frightening the enemy so long, guynemer was now frightening his friends. [illustration: "going west"] the photograph taken, guynemer flew back to camp. the best for him, under the circumstances, would have been to wait. was he not hourly to hear that he might go to the buc works for his machine? and what was the use of flying on an unsatisfactory airplane? but guynemer was not in flanders to wait. he wanted his quarry, and he wanted to set an example to and galvanize his men, and even the infantry. so, deullin being absent, guynemer borrowed his machine, and at last discovered a chain of german flyers, whom he attacked regardless of their number. but four bullets hit his machine and one damaged the air-pump, an accident which not only compelled him to land but to return by motor to the aërodrome. once more, instead of listening to the whisper of wisdom, he started, on lieutenant lagache's machine; and this time the annoyance was the gasoline spurting over the loose top of the carburetor. the oil caught fire, and guynemer had to give in, having failed three times, and having been in the air five hours and a half on unsatisfactory airplanes. no wonder if, with the weather, the machines, and circumstances generally against him, he felt tired and nervous. he had never done so much with such poor results. but his will, his will cannot accept what is forced upon him, and we may be sure that he will not acknowledge himself beaten. iii. the last flight on tuesday, september , the weather was once more uncertain. but morning fogs by the seaside do not last, and the sun soon began to shine. guynemer had had a restless night after his failures, and had brooded, as irritable people do, over the very things that made him fretful. chasing without his new airplane--the enchanting machine which he had borne in his mind so many months, as a women bears her child, and which at last he had felt soaring under him--was no pleasure. he missed it so much that the feeling became an obsession, until he made up his mind to leave for buc before the day was over. indeed, he would have done so sooner had he not been haunted by the idea that he must first bring down his boche. but since the boche did not seem to be willing.... now he is resolved, and more calm; he will go to paris this very evening. he has only to while away the time till the train is due. the prospect in itself is quieting, and besides major du peuty, one of the chiefs of aviation at headquarters, and major brocard, recently appointed attaché to the minister of aëronautics, were coming down by the early train. they were sure to arrive at the camp between nine and ten, and a conversation with them could not but be instructive and illuminating; so, better wait for them. but, in spite of these tranquillizing thoughts, guynemer was restless, and his face showed the sallow color which always foreboded his physical relapses. his mind was not really made up, and he would come and go, strolling from his tent to the sheds and from the sheds to his tent. he was not cross, only nervous. suddenly he went back to the shed and examined his _vieux-charles_. why, the machine was not so bad after all; the motor and guns had been repaired, and yesterday's accident was not likely to happen again. if so, why not fly? in the absence of heurtaux, guynemer was in command, and once more the necessity of setting a good example forced itself upon him. several flyers had started on scouting work already; the fog was quickly lifting, the day would soon be resplendent, and the notion of duty too quickly dazzled him, like the sun. for duty had always been his motive power; he had always anticipated it, from the day when he was fighting to enlist at biarritz to this th of september, . it was neither the passion for glory nor the craze to be an aviator which had caused him to join, but his longing to be of use; and in the same way his last flights were made in obedience to his will to serve. all at once he was really resolved. _sous-lieutenant_ bozon-verduraz was requested to accompany him, and the mechanicians wheeled the machines out. one of his comrades asked with assumed negligence: "aren't you going to wait till major du peuty and major brocard arrive?" guynemer's only answer was to wave towards the sky then freeing itself from its veils of fog as he himself was shaking off his hesitancy, and his friend felt that he must not be urgent. everybody of late had noticed his nervousness, and guynemer knew it and resented it; tact was more necessary than ever with him. let it be remembered that he was the pet, almost the spoiled child, of his service, and that it had never been easy to approach him. meanwhile, the two majors, who had been met at the station, were told of his nervous condition, and hurried to speak to him. they expected to reach the camp by nine o'clock, and would send for him at once. but guynemer and bozon-verduraz had started at twenty-five minutes past eight. they had left the sea behind them, flying south-east. they had reached the lines, following them over bixchoote and the korteker tavern which the french troops had taken on july , over the bixchoote-langemarck road, and finally over langemarck itself, captured by the british on august . trenches, sections of broken roads, familiar to them from above, crossed and recrossed each other under them, and they descried to the north of langemarck road the railway, or what used to be the railway, between ypres and thourout and the saint-julien-poelkapelle road. no german patrol appeared above the french or british lines, which guynemer and his companion lost sight of above the maison blanche, and they followed on to the german lines over the faint vestiges of poelkapelle. guynemer's keen, long-practiced eye then saw a two-seated enemy airplane flying alone lower down than himself, and a signal was made to attract bozon-verduraz' notice. a fight was certain, and this fight was the one which fate had long decided on. the attack on a two-seater flying over its own lines, and consequently enjoying unrestricted freedom of movement, is known to be a ticklish affair, as the pilot can shoot through the propeller and the passenger in his turret rakes the whole field of vision with the exception of two angles, one in front, the other behind him under the fuselage and tail. facing the enemy and shooting directly at him, whether upwards or downwards, was guynemer's method; but it is not easy on account of the varying speeds of the two machines, and because the pilot as well as the passenger is sheltered by the engine. so it is best to get behind and a little lower than the tail of the enemy plane. guynemer had frequently used this maneuver, but he preferred a front attack, thinking that if he should fail he could easily resort to the other, either by turning or by a quick tail spin. so he tried to get between the sun and the enemy; but as ill-luck would have it, the sky clouded over, and guynemer had to dive down to his opponent's level, so as to show him only the thin edges of the planes, hardly visible. but by this time the german had noticed him, and was endeavoring to get his range. prudence advised zigzagging, for a cool-headed gunner has every chance of hitting a straight-flying airplane; the enemy ought to be made to shift his aim by quick tacking, and the attack should be made from above with a full volley, with the possibility of dodging back in case the enemy is not brought down at once. but guynemer, regardless of rules and stratagems, merely fell on his enemy like a cannon ball. he might have said, like alexander refusing to take advantage of the dark against darius, that he did not want to steal victory. he only counted on his lightning-like manner of charging, which had won him so many victories, and on his marksmanship. but he missed the german, who proceeded to tail spin, and was missed again by bozon-verduraz, who awaited him below. what ought guynemer to do? desist, no doubt. but, having been imprudent in his direct attack, he was imprudent again on his new tack, and his usual obstinacy, made worse by irritation, counseled him to a dangerous course. as he dived lower and lower in hopes of being able to wheel around and have another shot, bozon-verduraz spied a chain of eight german one-seaters above the british lines. it was agreed between him and his chief that on such occasions he should offer himself to the newcomers, allure, entice, and throw them off the track, giving guynemer time to achieve his fifty-fourth success, after which he should fly round again to where the fight was going on. he had no anxiety about guynemer, with whom he had frequently attacked enemy squadrons of five, six, or even ten or twelve one-seaters. the two-seater might, no doubt, be more dangerous, and guynemer had recently seemed nervous and below par; but in a fight his presence of mind, infallibility of movement, and quickness of eye were sure to come back, and the two-seater could hardly escape its doom. the last image imprinted on the eyes of bozon-verduraz was of guynemer and the german both spinning down, guynemer in search of a chance to shoot, the other hoping to be helped from down below. then bozon-verduraz had flown in the direction of the eight one-seaters, and the group had fallen apart, chasing him. in time the eight machines became mere specks in the illimitable sky, and bozon-verduraz, seeing he had achieved his object, flew back to where his chief was no doubt waiting for him. but there was nobody in the empty space. could it be that the german had escaped? with deadly anguish oppressing him, the airman descended nearer the ground to get a closer view. down below there was nothing, no sign, none of the bustle which always follows the falling of an airplane. feeling reassured, he climbed again and began to circle round and round, expecting his comrade. guynemer was coming back, could not but come back, and the cause of his delay was probably the excitement of the chase. he was so reckless! like dorme--who one fine morning in may, on the aisne, went out and was never heard of afterwards--he was not afraid of traveling long distances over enemy country. he must come back. it is impossible he should not come back; he was beyond the reach of common accidents, invincible, immortal! this was a certitude, the very faith of the storks, a tenet which never was questioned. the notion of guynemer falling to a german seemed hardly short of sacrilege. so bozon-verduraz waited on, making up his mind to wait as long as necessary. but an hour passed, and nobody appeared. then the airman broadened his circles and searched farther out, without, however, swerving from the rallying-point. he searched the air like nisus the forest in his quest of euryalus, and his mind began to misgive him. after two hours he was still waiting, alone, noticing with dismay that his oil was running low. one more circle! how slack the engine sounded to him! one more circle! now it was impossible to wait any more: he must go back alone. on landing, his first word was to ask about guynemer. "not back yet!" bozon-verduraz knew it. he knew that guynemer had been taken away from him. the telephone and the wireless sent their appeals around, airplanes started on anxious cruises. hour followed hour, and evening came, one of those late summer evenings during which the horizon wears the tints of flowers; the shadows deepened, and no news came of guynemer. from neighboring camps french, british, or belgian comrades arrived, anxious for news. everywhere the latest birds had come home, and one hardly dared ask the airmen any question. but the daily routine had to be dispatched, as if there were no mourning in the camp. all the young men there were used to death, and to sporting with it; they did not like to show their sorrow; but it was deep in them, sullen and fierce. at dinner a heavy melancholy weighed upon them. guynemer's seat was empty, and no one dreamed of taking it. one officer tried to dispel the cloud by suggesting hypotheses. guynemer was lucky, had always been; probably he was alive, a prisoner. guynemer a prisoner!... he had said one day with a laugh, "the boches will never get me alive," but his laugh was terrible. no, guynemer could not have been taken prisoner. where was he, then? on the squadron log, _sous-lieutenant_ bozon-verduraz wrote that evening as follows: _tuesday, september , ._ patrolled. captain guynemer started at . with _sous-lieutenant_ bozon-verduraz. found missing after an engagement with a biplane above poelkapelle (belgium). that was all. iv. the vigil before guynemer, other knights of the air, other aces, had been reported missing or had perished--some like captain le cour grandmaison or captain auger in our lines, others like sergeant sauvage and _sous-lieutenant_ dorme in the enemy's. in fact, he would be the thirteenth on the list if the title of ace is reserved for aviators to whom the controlling board has given its visé for five undoubted victories. these were the names: captain le cour grandmaison victories sergeant hauss " _sous-lieutenant_ delorme " _sous-lieutenant_ pégoud " _sous-lieutenant_ languedoc " captain auger " captain doumer " _sous-lieutenant_ rochefort " sergeant sauvage " captain matton " adjutant lenoir " _sous-lieutenant_ dorme " would guynemer's friends now have to add: captain guynemer, ? nobody dared to do so, yet nobody now dared hope. a poet of genius, who even before the war had been an aviator, gabriele d'annunzio, has described in his novel, _forse che si forse che no_, the friendship of two young men, paolo tarsis and giulio cambasio, whose mutual affection, arising from a similar longing to conquer the sky, has grown in the perils they dare together. if this book had been written later, war would have intensified its meaning. instead of dying in a fight, cambasio is killed in a contest for altitude between bergamo and the lake of garda. as achilles watched beside the dead body of patroclus, so tarsis would not leave to another the guarding of his lost friend: "in tearless grief paolo tarsis kept vigil through the short summer night. so it had broken asunder the richest bough on the tree of his life; the most generous part of himself ruined. for him the beauty of war had diminished, now that he was no longer to see, burning in those dead eyes, the fervor of effort, the security of confidence, the rapidity of resolution. he was no longer to taste the two purest joys of a manly heart: steadiness of eye in attack, and the pride of watching over a beloved peer." _for him the beauty of war had diminished_.... war already so long, so exhausting and cruel, and laden with sorrow! will war appear in its horrid nakedness, now that those who invested it with glory disappear, now, above all, when the king of these heroes, the dazzling young man whose luminous task was known to the whole army, is no more? is not his loss the loss of something akin to life? for a guynemer is like the nation's flag: if the soldiers' eyes miss the waving colors, they may wander to the wretchedness of daily routine, and morbidly feed on blood and death. this is what the loss of a guynemer might mean. but can a guynemer be quite lost? * * * * * saint-pol-sur-mer, _september_, (from the author's diary) visited the storks escadrille. the flying field occupies a vast space, for it is common to the french and the british. a dam protecting the landing-ground screens it from the sea. but from the second floor of a little house which the bombs have left standing, you can see its moving expanse of a delicate, i might say timid blue, dotted with home-coming boats. the evening is placid and fine, with a reddish haze blurring the horizon. opposite the sheds, with their swelling canvas walls, a row of airplanes is standing before being rolled in for the night. the mechanicians feel them with careful hands, examining the engines, propellers, and wings. the pilots are standing around, still in their leather suits, their helmets in their hands. in brief sentences they sum up their day's experiences. mechanically i look among them for the one whom the eye invariably sought first. i recalled his slight figure, his amber complexion, and dark, wonderful eyes, and his quick descriptive gestures. i remembered his ringing, boyish laugh, as he said: "and then, '_couic_'...." he was life itself. he got out of his seat panting but radiant, quivering, as it were, like the bow-string when it has sent its shaft, and full of the sacred drunkenness of a young god. ten days had passed since his disappearance. nothing more was known than on that eleventh of september when bozon-verduraz came back alone. german prisoners belonging to aviation had not heard that he was reported missing. yet it was inconceivable that such a piece of news should not have been circulated; and, in fact, yesterday a message dropped by a german airplane on the british lines, concerning several english aviators killed or in hospital, was completed by a note saying that captain guynemer had been brought down at poelkapelle on september , at a.m. but could this message be credited? both the day and hour it stated were wrong. on september at a.m. guynemer was alive, and even the next day he had not left the camp at the hour mentioned. an english newspaper had announced his disappearance, and perhaps the enemy was merely using the information. the mystery remained unsolved. as we were discussing these particulars, the last airplanes were landing, one after another, and guynemer's companions offered their reasons for hoping, or rather believing; but none seemed convinced by his own arguments. their inner conviction must be that their young chief is dead; and besides, what is death, what is life, to devoting one's all to france? captain d'harcourt had succeeded major brocard pro tem as commandant of the unit. he was a very slim, very elegant young man, with the grace and courtesy of the _ancien régime_ which his name evoked, and the perfection of his manners and gentleness seemed to lend convincing power to all he said. guynemer being missing and heurtaux wounded, the storks were now commanded by lieutenant raymond. he belonged to the cavalry, a tall, thin man, with the sharp face and heroic bearing of don quixote, a kindly man with a roughness of manner and a quick, picturesque way of expressing himself. deullin was there, too, one of guynemer's oldest and most devoted friends. last of all descended from the high regions _sous-lieutenant_ bozon-verduraz, a rather heavy man with a serious face, and more maturity than belonged to his years, an unassuming young man with a hatred for exaggeration and a deep respect for the truth. once more he went through every detail of the fatal day for me, each particular anticipating the dread issue. but in spite of this narrative, full of the idea of death, i could not think of guynemer as dead and lying somewhere under the ground held by the enemy. it was impossible for me not to conjure up guynemer alive and even full of life, guynemer chasing the enemy with strained terrible eyes, guynemer of the superhuman will, the guynemer who never gave up,--in short, a guynemer whom death could not vanquish. a wonderful atmosphere men breathe here, for it relieves death of its horror. one officer, raymond, i think, said in a careless manner: "guynemer's fate will be ours, of course." somebody protested: "the country needs men like you." to which deullin answered: "why does it? there will be others after us, and the life we lead...." but captain d'harcourt broke in gaily: "come on; dinner's ready--and with this bright moon and clear sky we are sure to get bombed." bombed, indeed, we were, and pretty severely, but in convenient time, for we had just drunk our coffee. a few minutes before, the practiced ear of one of us had caught the sound of the _bimoulins_, the bi-motor german airplanes, and soon they were near. we gained the sheltering trench. but the night was so entrancingly pure, with the moon riding like an airship in the deep space, that it seemed to promise peace and invited us to enjoy the spectacle. we climbed upon the parapet and listened to the breathing of the sea, accompanying with its bass the music of the motors. there were still a few straggling reddish vapors over the luminous landscape, and the stars seemed dim. but other stars took their place, those of the french _voisins_ returning from some bombing expedition, their lights dotting the sky like a moving constellation, while at intervals a rocket shot from one or the other who was anxious not to miss the landing-ground. over dunkirk, eight or ten searchlights stretched out their long white arms, thrusting and raking to and fro after the enemy machines. suddenly one of these appeared, dazzled by the revealing light, as a moth in the circle of a lamp; our batteries began firing, and we could see the quick sparks of their shells all around it. flashing bullets, too, drew zebra-like stripes across the sky, and with the cannonade and the rumbling of the airplanes we heard the lament of the dunkirk sirens announcing the dreaded arrival of the huge shells upon the town, where here and there fires broke out. meanwhile the german airplanes got rid of their bombs all around us, and we could feel the ground tremble. the storks looked on with the indifference of habit, thinking of their beds and awaiting the end. one of them, a weather prophet, said: "it will be a good day to-morrow; we can start early." as i spun towards dunkirk in the motor, these young men and their speeches were in my mind, and i seemed to hear them speaking of their absent companion without any depression, with hardly any sorrow. they thought of him when they were successful, referred to him as a model, found an incentive in his memory,--that was all. their grief over his loss was virile and invigorating. * * * * * after watching his friend's body through the night, the hero of d'annunzio goes to the aërodrome where the next trials for altitude are to take place. he cannot think of robbing the dead man of his victory. as he rises into the upper regions of the air he feels a soothing influence and an increase of power: the dead man himself pilots his machine, wields the controls, and helps him higher, ever higher up in divine intoxication. in the same way the warlike power of guynemer's companions is not diminished. guynemer is still with them, accompanying each one, and instilling into them the passionate longing to do more and more for france. v. the legend in seaside graveyards, the stone crosses above the empty tombs say only, after the name, "lost at sea." i remember also seeing in the churchyards of the vale of chamonix similar inscriptions: "lost on mont-blanc." as the mountains and the sea sometimes refuse to give up their victims, so the air seems to have kept guynemer. "he was neither seen nor heard as he fell," m. henri lavedan wrote at the beginning of october; his body and his machine were never found. where has he gone? by what wings did he manage thus to glide into immortality? nobody knows: nothing is known. he ascended and never came back, that is all. perhaps our descendants will say: "he flew so high that he could not come down again."[ ] [footnote : _l'illustration_, october , .] i remember a strange line read in some miscellany in my youth and never forgotten, though the rest of the poem has vanished from memory: un jet d'eau qui montait n'est pas redescendu. does this not embody the upspringing force of guynemer's brilliant youth? throughout france some sort of miracle was expected: guynemer must reappear--if a prisoner he must escape, if dead he must come to life. his father said he would go on believing even to the extreme limits of improbability. the journalist who signs his letters from the front to _le temps_ with the pseudonym d'entraygues recalled a passage from balzac in which some peasants at work on a haystack call to the postman on the road: "what's the news?" "nothing, no news. oh! i beg your pardon, people say that napoleon has died at st. helena." work stops at once, and the peasants look at one another in silence. but one fellow standing on the rick says: "napoleon dead! psha! it's plain those people don't know him!" the journalist added that he heard a speech of the same kind in the bush-region of aveyron. a passenger on the motor-bus read in a newspaper the news of guynemer's death; everybody seemed dismayed. the chauffeur alone smiled skeptically as he examined the spark plugs of his engine. when he had done, he pulled down the hood, put away his spectacles, carefully wiped his dirty hands on a cloth still dirtier, and planting himself in front of the passenger said: "very well. i tell you that the man who is to down guynemer is still an apprentice. do you understand?..." the credulity of the poor people of france with regard to their hero was most touching. when the death of guynemer had to be admitted, there was deep mourning, from paris to the remote villages where news travels slowly, but is long pondered upon. guynemer had been brought down from a height of meters, northeast of poelkapelle cemetery, in the ypres sector. a german noncommissioned officer and two soldiers had immediately gone to where the machine was lying. one of the wings of the machine was broken; the airman had been shot through the head, and his leg and shoulder had been broken in the fall; but his face was untouched, and he had been identified at once by the photograph on his pilot's diploma. a military funeral had been given to him. nevertheless, it seemed as if guynemer's fate still remained somewhat obscure. the german war office published a list of french machines fallen in the german lines, with the official indications by which they had been recognized. now, the number of the _vieux-charles_ did not appear on any of these lists, although having only one wing broken the number ought to have been plainly visible. who were the noncommissioned officer and the two soldiers? finally, on october , , the british took poelkapelle, but the enemy counter-attacked, and there was furious fighting. on the th the village was completely occupied by the british, and they searched for guynemer's grave. no trace of it could be found in either the military or the village graveyard. in fact, the germans had to acknowledge in an official document that both the body and the airplane of guynemer had disappeared. on november , , the german foreign office replied as follows to a question asked by the spanish ambassador: captain guynemer fell in the course of an air fight on september at ten a.m. close to the honor graveyard no. south of poelkapelle. a surgeon found that he had been shot through the head, and that the forefinger of his left hand had been shot off by a bullet. the body could neither be buried nor removed, as the place had been since the previous day under constant and heavy fire, and during the following days it was impossible to approach it. the sector authorities communicate that the shelling had plowed up the entire district, and that no trace could be found on september of either the body or the machine. fresh inquiries, which were made in order to answer the question of the spanish embassy, were also fruitless, as the place where captain guynemer fell is now in the possession of the british. the german airmen express their regret at having been unable to render the last honors to a valiant enemy. it should be added that investigation in this case was only made with the greatest difficulty, as the enemy was constantly attacking, fresh troops were frequently brought in or relieved, and eye witnesses had either been killed or wounded, or transferred. our troops being continually engaged have not been in a position to give the aforesaid information sooner. so there had been no military funeral, and guynemer had accepted nothing from his enemies, not even a wooden cross. the battle he had so often fought in the air had continued around his body; the allied guns had kept the germans away from it. so nobody can say where lies what was left of guynemer: and no hand had touched him. dead though he was, he escaped. he who was life and movement itself, could not accept the immobility of the tomb. german applause, like that with which the greeks welcomed the dead body of hector, did not fail to welcome guynemer's end. at the end of three weeks a coarse and discourteous paean was sung in the _woche_. in its issue of october , this paper devoted to guynemer, under the title "most successful french aviator killed," an article whose lying cowardice is enough to disgrace a newspaper, and which ought to be preserved to shame it. a reproduction of guynemer's diploma was given with the article, which ran as follows: captain guynemer enjoyed high reputation in the french army, as he professed having brought down more than fifty airplanes, but many of these were proved to have got back to their camps, though damaged it is true. the french, in order to make all verification on our side impossible, have given up stating, in the past few months, the place or date of their so-called victories. certain french aviators, taken prisoner by our troops, have described his method thus: sometimes, when in command of his squadron, he left it to his men to attack, and when he had ascertained which of his opponents was the weakest, he attacked that one in turn. sometimes he would fly alone at very great altitudes, for hours, above his own lines, and when he saw one of our machines separated from the others would pounce upon it unawares. if his first onset failed, he would desist at once, not liking fights of long duration, in the course of which real gallantry must be displayed.[ ] [footnote : der erfolgreichste französische kampfflieger gefallen. kapitän guynemer genoss grossen ruhm im französischen heere, da er flugzeuge abgeschossen haben wollte. von diesen ist jedoch nachgewiesenermassen eine grosse zahl, wenn auch beschädigt, in ihre flughäfen zurückgekert. um deutscherseits eine nachprüfung unmöglich zu machen, wurden in den letzten monaten ort und datum seiner angeblichen luftsiege nicht mehr angegeben. ueber seine kampfmethode haben gefangene französische flieger berichtet: entweder liess er, als geschwaderführer fliegend, seine kameraden zuerst angreifen un stürzle sich dann erst auf den schwächsten gegner; oder er flog stundenlang in grössten höhe, allein hinter der französischen front und stürzte sich von oben herab überraschend auf einzeln fliegende deutsche beobachtungsflugzeuge. hatte guynemer beim ersten verstoss keinen erfolg, so brach er das gefecht sofort ab; auf den länger dauernden, wahrhaft muterprobenden kurvenkampf liess er sich nicht gern ein.--extract from the _woche_ of october , .] this is the filth the german paper was not ashamed to print. repulsive though it is, i must analyze some of its details. an enemy's abuse reveals his own character. so this german denied the fifty-three victories of guynemer, all controlled, and with such severity that in his case, as in that of dorme, he was not credited with fully a third of his distant triumphs, too far away to be officially recognized; so this german also vilified guynemer's fighting methods, guynemer the foolhardy, the wildly, madly foolhardy, whose machines and clothes were everlastingly riddled with bullets, who fought at such close quarters that he was constantly in danger of collisions--this guynemer the german journalist makes out to be a prudent and timid airman, shirking fight and making use of his comrades. what sort of story had the german who brought him down told? was it not obvious that if guynemer had engaged him at meters, and had been killed at , that he must have prolonged the struggle, and prolonged it above the enemy's lines? finally, the german journalist had the unutterable meanness and infamy to saddle on imprisoned french aviators this slander of their comrade, insinuated rather than boldly expressed. after all, this document is invaluable, and ought to be framed and preserved. how guynemer would have laughed over it, and how youthfully ringing and honest the laugh would have sounded! villiers de l'isle adam, remembering the hegelian philosophy, once wrote: "the man who insults you only insults the idea he has formed of you, that is to say, himself." as a whole army (the sixth) marched on may towards that hill of the aisne valley where guynemer had brought down four german machines, and acclaimed his triumph, so the whole french nation would take part in mourning him. at the funeral service held at saint antony's compiègne, the bishop of beauvais, monseigneur le senne, spoke, taking for his text the psalm in which david laments the death of saul and his sons slain _on the summits_, and says that this calamity must be kept secret lest the philistines and their daughters should rejoice over it. this service was attended by general débeney, staff major-general, representing the generalissimo, and by all the surviving members of the storks escadrille, with their former chief, major brocard. his successor, captain heurtaux, whose unexpected appearance startled the congregation--he seemed so pale and thin on his crutches--had left the hospital for this ceremony, and looked so ill that people were surprised that he had the strength to stand. a few hours before the service took place, major garibaldi, sent by general anthoine, commander of the army to which guynemer belonged, had brought to the guynemer family the twenty-sixth citation of their hero, the famous document which all french schoolboys have since learned by heart and which was as follows: fallen on the field of honor on september , . a legendary hero, fallen from the very zenith of victory after three years' hard and continuous fighting. he will be considered the most perfect embodiment of the national qualities for his indomitable energy and perseverance and his exalted gallantry. full of invincible belief in victory, he has bequeathed to the french soldier an imperishable memory which must add to his self-sacrificing spirit and will surely give rise to the noblest emulation. on the motion of m. lasies, in a session which reminded us of the great days of august, , the chamber decided on october that the name of captain guynemer should be graven on the walls of the panthéon. two letters, to follow below, were read by m. lasies, to whom they had been written. one came from lieutenant raymond, temporary commandant of the storks, and was as follows: having the honor to command escadrille in the absence of captain heurtaux, still wounded in hospital, i am anxious to thank you, in the name of the few surviving storks, for what you are doing for the memory of guynemer. he was our friend as well as our chief and teacher, our pride and our flag, and his loss will be felt more than any that has thinned our ranks so far. please be sure that our courage has not been laid low with him; our revenge will be merciless and victorious. may guynemer's noble soul remember us fighting our aërial battles, that we may keep alight the flame he bequeathed to us. raymond commanding escadrille . the other letter came from major brocard: my dear comrade: i am profoundly moved to hear of the thought you have had of giving the highest consecration to guynemer's memory by a ceremony at the panthéon. it had occurred to all of us that only the lofty dome of the panthéon was large enough for such wings. the poor boy fell in the fullness of triumph, with his face towards the enemy. a few days before he had sworn to me that the germans should never take him alive. his heroic death is not more glorious than that of the gunner defending his gun, the infantryman rushing out of his trench, or even that of the poor soldier perishing in the bogs. but guynemer was known to all. there were few who had not seen him in the sky, whether blue or cloudy, bearing on his frail linen wings some of their own faith, their own dreams, and all that their souls could hold of trust and hope. it was for them all, whether infantrymen or gunners or pioneers, that he fought with the bitter hatred he felt for the invader, with his youthful daring and the joys of his triumphs. he knew that the battle would end fatally for him, no doubt, but knowing also that his war-bird was the instrument of saving thousands of lives, and seeing that his example called forth the noblest imitation, he remained true to his idea of self-sacrifice which he had formed a long time before, and which he saw develop with perfect calm. full of modesty as a soldier, but fully conscious of the greatness of his duties, he possessed the national qualities of endurance, perseverance, indifference to danger, and to these he added a most generous heart. during his short life he had not time enough to learn bitterness, or suffering, or disillusionment. he passed straight from the school where he was learning the history of france to where he himself could add another page to it. he went to the war driven by a mysterious power which i respect as death or genius ought to be respected. he was a powerful thought living in a body so delicate that i, who lived so close beside him, knew it would some day be slain by the thought. the poor boy! other boys from every french school wrote to him every day. he was their legendary ideal, and they felt all his emotions, sharing his joys as well as his dangers. to them he was the living copy of the heroes whose exploits they read in their books. his name is constantly on their lips, for they love him as they have been taught to love the purest glories of france. _monsieur le député_, gain admittance for him to the panthéon, where he has already been placed by the mothers and children of france. there his protecting wings will not be out of place, for under that dome where sleep those who gave us our france, they will be the symbol of those who have defended her for us. major brocard. these letters roused the enthusiasm of the chamber, and the following resolution was passed by acclamation: the government shall have an inscription placed in the panthéon to perpetuate the memory of captain guynemer, the symbol of france's highest aspirations. on november the foregoing letters were solemnly read aloud in every school, and guynemer was presented as an example to all french schoolboys. * * * * * the army then prepared to celebrate guynemer as a leader, and in default of any place suitable for such a ceremony they selected the camp of saint-pol-sur-mer, whence guynemer had started on his last flight. on november general anthoine, commanding the first army, before leaving the flemish british sector where he had so brilliantly assisted in the success, decided to associate his men with the glorification of guynemer. the ceremony took place at ten in the morning. a raw breeze was blowing off the sea, whose violence the dam, raised to protect the landing-ground, was not sufficient to break. in front of the battalion which had been sent to render the military honors, waved the colors of the twenty regiments that had fought in the flemish battles, glorious flags bearing the marks of war, some of them almost in rags. to the left, in front of the airmen, two slight figures were visible, one in black, one in horizon blue: captain heurtaux still on his crutches, the other _sous-lieutenant_ fonck. the former was to be made an officer, the latter a chevalier in the legion of honor. heurtaux, a fair-haired, delicate, almost girlish young man, but so phenomenally self-possessed in danger, had been, as we have said, our roland's oliver, his companion of old days, his rival and his confidant. fonck, whom i called aymerillot because of his smallness, his boyish simplicity and his daring, the hope of the morrow and already a glorious soldier, had perhaps avenged guynemer's death already. for lieutenant weissman, according to the _kölnische zeitung_, had boasted in a letter to his people of having brought down the most famous french aviator. "don't be afraid on my account," he added, "i shall never meet such a dangerous enemy again." now, on september fonck had shot this lieutenant weissman through the head as the latter was piloting a rumpler machine above the french lines. while the band was playing the _marseillaise_, accompanied by the roaring of the gale and of the sea, as well as of the airplanes circling above, general anthoine stepped out in front of the row of flags. his powerful frame seemed to suggest the cuirass of the knights of old, as, silhouetted against the cloudy sky, he towered above the two diminutive aviators near whom he was standing. the band stopped playing, and the general spoke, his voice rising and falling in the wind, and swelling to a higher pitch when the elements were too rebellious. he was speaking almost on the spot where guynemer had departed from the soil of his own country on his final flight. "i have not summoned you," he said, "to pay guynemer the last homage he has a right to from the first army, over a coffin or a grave. no trace could be found in poelcapelle of his mortal remains, as if the heavens, jealous of their hero, had not consented to return to earth what seems to belong to it by right, and as if guynemer had disappeared in empyrean glory through a miraculous assumption. therefore we shall omit, on this spot from which he soared into infinity, the sorrowful rites generally concluding the lives of mortals, and shall merely proclaim the immortality of the knight of the air, without fear or reproach. "men come and go, but france remains. all who fall for her bequeath to her their own glory, and her splendor is made up of their worth. happy is he who enriches the commonwealth by the complete gift of himself. happy then the child of france whose superhuman destiny we are celebrating! glory be to him in the heavens where he reigned supreme, and glory be to him on the earth, in our soldiers' hearts and in these flags, sacred emblems of honor and of the worship of france! "ye flags of the second aëronautical unit and of the first army, you keep in the mystery of your folds the memory of virtue, devotion, and sacrifice of every kind, to hand down to future generations the treasures of our national traditions! "flags, the souls of our heroes live in you, and when your fluttering silk is heard, it is indeed their voice bidding us go from the same dangers to the same triumphs! "flags, keep the soul of guynemer forever. let it raise up and multiply heroes in his likeness! let it exalt to resolution the hearts of neophytes eager to avenge the martyr by imitating his lofty example, and let it give them power to revive the prowess of this legendary hero! "for the only homage he expects from his companions is the continuation of his work. "in the brief moment during which dying men see, as in a vision, the whole past and the whole future, if guynemer knew a comfort it was the certainty that his comrades would successfully complete what he had begun. "you, his friends and rivals, i know well; i know that, like guynemer, you can be trusted, that you meet bravely the formidable task he has bequeathed to you, and that you will fulfil the hopes which france had reposed in him. "it is to confirm this certitude in presence of our flags, brought to witness it, that i am glad to confer on two of his companions, two of our bravest fighters, distinctions which are at the same time a reward for the past and an earnest of future glory." then the general gave the accolade and embraced heurtaux, now less dependent on his crutches, and fonck, suddenly grown taller, children of glory, both of them, and still pale from the emotion caused by the evocation of their friend's glory. he pinned the badges on their coats. after this he added, in a lull of the conflicting elements: "let us raise our hearts in respectful and grateful admiration for the hero whom the first army can never forget, of whom it was so proud, and whose memory will always live in history. "dead though he be, a man like guynemer guides us, if we know how to follow him, along the triumphal way which, over ruins, tombs, and sacrifices, leads to victory the good and the strong." of itself, thanks to this religious conclusion of the general's ode, the ceremony had assumed a sort of sacred character, and the word which concludes prayers, the amen of the officiating priest, naturally came to our lips while the general saluted with his sword the invisible spirit of the hero, and the blasts of the bugles rose above the gale and the sea. vi. in the panthÉon in the panthéon crypt, destined, as the inscription says, for the burial of great men, the name of guynemer will be graven on a marble slab cemented in the wall. the proper inscription for this slab will be the young soldier's last citation: fallen on the field of honor on september , . a legendary hero, fallen from the very zenith of victory after three years' hard and continuous fighting. he will be considered the most perfect embodiment of the national qualities for his indomitable energy and perseverance and his exalted gallantry. full of invincible belief in victory, he has bequeathed to the french soldier an imperishable memory which must add to his self-sacrificing spirit and will surely give rise to the noblest emulation. "to deserve such a citation and die!" exclaimed a young officer after reading it. in his poem, _le vol de la marseillaise_, rostand shows us the twelve victories seated at the invalides around the tomb of the emperor rising to welcome their sister, the victory of the marne. at the panthéon, in the crypt where they rest, marshal lannes and general marceau, lazare carnot, the organizer of victory, and captain la tour d'auvergne will rise in their turn on this young man's entrance. victor hugo, who is there too, will recognize at once one of the knights in his _légende des siècles_, and berthelot will look upon his coming as an evidence of the fervor of youth for france as well as for science. but of them all, marceau, his elder brother, killed at twenty-seven, will be the most welcoming. traveling in the rhine valley some ten or twelve years ago, i made a pilgrimage to marceau's tomb, outside coblenz, just above the moselle. in a little wood stands a black marble pyramid with the following inscription in worn-out gilt letters: here lieth marceau, a soldier at sixteen, a general at twenty-two, who died fighting for his country the last day of the year iv of the republic. whoever you may be, friend or foe, respect the ashes of this hero. the french prisoners who died in - at the camp of petersberg have been buried, on the same spot. marceau was not older than these soldiers, who died without fame or glory, when his brief and wonderful career came to an end. without knowing it, the germans had completed the hero's mausoleum by laying these remains around it; for it is proper that beside the chief should be represented the anonymous multitude without whom there would be no chiefs. in the remains of marceau were transferred to the panthéon in paris, and the coblenz monument now commemorates only his name. it will be the same with guynemer, whose remains will never be found, as if the earth had refused to engulf them; they will never be brought back, amidst the acclamations of the people, to the mount once dedicated to saint genevieve. but his legendary life was fitly crowned by the mystery of such a death. one of the frescoes of puvis de chavannes in the panthéon, the last to the left, represents an old woman leaning over a stone terrace and gazing at the town beneath her with its moonlit roofs and its surrounding plain, looking bluish in the night. the city is asleep, but the holy woman watches and prays. she stands tall and upright as a lily. her lamp, which is seen at the entrance of her house, is one long stem illuminated by the flame. she, too, is like this lamp. her emaciated body would be nothing without her ardent face. her serenity can only come from work well done and confidence in the future. lutetia, represented in this picture by genevieve, is not anxious; yet she listens as if she might hear once more the threatening approach of attila. it is because she knows that the barbarians may come back again, and can only be stopped by invincible faith. as long as france keeps her belief, she is secure. the life and death of a guynemer are an act of faith in immortal france. envoi the _ballades_ of olden times used to conclude with an _envoi_ addressed to some powerful person and invariably beginning with king, queen, prince or princess. but the poet was occasionally at a loss, for, as theodore de banville observes in his _petit traité de poésie française_, "everybody has not a prince handy to whom to dedicate his _ballade_." guynemer's biography is of such a nature that it must seem like a poem: why not, then, conclude it with an _envoi_? i have no difficulty in finding a prince, for i shall select him from among the french schoolboys. there is a little paul bailly, not quite twelve years old, from bouclans, a village in franche-comté, who wrote a beautiful theme on guynemer: he shall be my prince. and through him i shall address all the french schoolboys or girls, in all the french towns and villages. little prince, i have no doubt that you love arithmetic, and i will give you accurate figures which will satisfy your taste. you will like to know that guynemer flew for hours and seconds in all, which i added up from his flying notebooks: his last flight is not recorded in them, because it never stopped. as for the number of fights in which he was engaged, that is difficult to ascertain. guynemer himself did not seem anxious to be sure about it. but it must be more than , and might well be or . your guynemer, our guynemer, will never be surpassed: not because he forgot to hand over to his successors, rivals, and avengers the sacred flame which in france can never go out, but because genius is an exceptional privilege, and because the present methods of fighting in the air are not in favor of single combats but engage whole units. you will also love to hear about guynemer as an inventor, and the creator of a magic airplane. some day this airplane will be exhibited; and perhaps some of your little friends have already seen at the invalides the machine in which guynemer brought down nineteen german airplanes. on november , , thousands of parisians visited it; and it was strewn with magnificent bunches of chrysanthemums, to which many people added clusters of violets. in guynemer the technician and the marksman equaled and perhaps surpassed the pilot. captain galliot, who is a specialist, has called him "the thinker-fighter," thereby emphasizing that his excellence as a gunner arose from meditation and preparation. the same officer adds that "accuracy was guynemer's characteristic; he never shot at random as others occasionally do, but always took long and careful aim. perfect weapons and perfect mastery of them were dogmas with him. his marksmanship, the result of perseverance and intelligence, multiplied tenfold the capacity of his machine-gun, and accounts for his overwhelming superiority."[ ] [footnote : _guerre aérienne_, october , .] but when you have realized the technical superiority of our guynemer, you will have yet to learn one thing, one great thing, the essential thing. you have heard that guynemer's frame was not robust; that he was delicate, and the military boards refused him several times as unfit. yet no aviator ever showed more endurance than he did, even when developments made long cruising necessary in altitudes of or meters. there have been pilots as quickwitted and gunners as accurate as guynemer, but there has never been anybody who equaled him in the flashlike rapidity of his attack, or for doggedness in keeping up a fight. we must conclude that he had a special gift, and this gift--his own genius--must be ultimately reduced to his decision, that is, his will-power. his will, to the very end, was far above his physical strength. there are two great dates in his short life: november , , when he joined the army, and september , , when he left camp for his last flight. neither a passion for aviation nor thirst for glory had any part in his action on those two dates. will-power in itself is sometimes dangerous, enviable though it be, and must be wisely directed. now, guynemer regulated his will by one great object, which was to serve, to serve his country, even unto death. finally, do not place guynemer apart from his comrades: even in his grave, even in the region where there is no grave, he would resent it. i hope you will learn by heart the names of the french aces, at any rate those names which i am going to give you, whatever may become of those who bear them:[ ] _sous-lieutenant_ nungesser airplanes brought down captain heurtaux " " lieutenant deullin " " lieutenant pinsard " " _sous-lieutenant_ madon " " _sous-lieutenant_ chaput " " adjutant jailler " " _sous-lieutenant_ ortoli " " _sous-lieutenant_ tarascon " " chief adjutant fonck " " _sous-lieutenant_ lufbery " " [footnote : list made september , .] these names will become more and more glorious--some have already done so--and others will be added to the list which you will learn also. but however tenacious your memory may be, you will never remember, nobody will ever remember, the thousands of names we ought to save from oblivion, the names of those whose patience, courage, and sufferings have saved the soil of france. the fame of one man is nothing unless it represent the obscure deeds of the anonymous multitude. the name of guynemer ought to sum up the sacrifice of all french youth--infantrymen, gunners, pioneers, troopers, or flyers--who have given their lives for us, as we hear the infinite murmur of the ocean in one beautiful shell. the enthusiasm and patience, the efforts and sacrifices, of the generations which came before you, little boy, were necessary to save you, to save your country, to save the world, born of light and born unto light, from the darkness of dread oppression. germany has chosen to rob war of all that, slowly and tentatively, the nations had given to it of respect for treaties, pity for the weak and defenseless, and of honor generally. she has poisoned it as she poisons her gases. this is what we should never forget. not only has germany forced this war upon the world, but she has made it systematically cruel and terrifying, and in so doing she has sown the seeds of horrified rebellion against anything that is german. parisian boys of your own age will tell you that during their sleep german squadrons used to fly over their city dropping bombs at random upon it. and to what purpose? none, beyond useless murder. this is the kind of war which germany has waged from the first, gradually compelling her opponents to adopt the same methods. but while this loathsome work was being done, our airplanes, piloted by soldiers not much older than you, cruised like moving stars above the city of genevieve, threatened now with unheard-of invasion from on high. little boy, do not forget that this war, blending all classes, has also blended in a new crucible all the capacities of our country. they are now turned against the aggressor, but they will have to be used in time for union, love, and peace. _omne regnum divisum contra se desolabitur; et omnis civitas vel domus divisa contra se non stabit._ you can read this easy latin, but if necessary your teacher or village priest will help you. the house, the city, the nation ought not to be divided. the enemy would have done us too much evil if he had not brought about the reconciliation of all frenchmen. you, little boy, will have to wipe away the blood from the bleeding face of france, to heal her wounds, and secure for her the revival she will urgently need. she will come out of the formidable contest respected and admired, but oh, how weary! love her with pious love, and let the life of guynemer inspire you with the resolve to serve in daily life, as he served, even unto death. _december_, , to _january_, . appendix appendix genealogy of georges guynemer in _huon de bordeaux_, a _chanson de geste_ with fairy and romantic elements, huon leaves for babylon on a mission confided to him by the emperor, which he was told to fulfil with the aid of the dwarf sorcerer, oberon. at the château of dunôtre, in palestine, where he must destroy a giant, he meets a young girl of great beauty named sébile, who guides him through the palace. as he is astonished to hear her speak french, she replies: "i was born in france, and i felt pity for you because i saw the cross you wear." "in what part of france?" "in the town of saint-omer," replied sébile; "i am the daughter of count guinemer." her father had lately come on a pilgrimage to the holy sepulchre, bringing her with him. a tempest had cast them on shore near the town of the giant, who had killed her father and kept her prisoner. "for more than seven years," she added, "i have not been to mass." naturally huon kills the giant, and delivers the daughter of count guinemer. in an article by the learned m. longnon on _l'elément historique de huon de bordeaux_,[ ] a note is given on the name of guinemer: "in _huon de bordeaux_," writes m. longnon, "the author of the _prologue des lorrains_ makes guinemer the son of saint bertin, second abbot of sithieu, an abbey which took the name of this blessed man and was the foundation of the city of saint-omer, which the poem of _huon de bordeaux_ makes the birthplace of count guinemer's daughter. it is possible that this guinemer was borrowed by our _trouveres_ from some ancient walloon tradition; for his name, which in latin is winemarus, appears to have occurred chiefly in those countries forming part, from the ninth to the twelfth century, of the county of flanders. the chartulary of saint vertin alone introduces us to: st, a deacon named winidmarus, who in wrote a deed of sale at saint-omer itself (guérard, p. ); d, a knight of the county of flanders, winemarus, who assassinated the archbishop of rheims, foulques, who was then abbot of saint-bertin (guérard, p. ); d, winemarus, a vassal of the abbey, mentioned in an act dated (_ib._, p. ); th, winemarus, lord of gand, witness to a charter of count baudouin vii in (_ib._, p. ). the personage in _huon de bordeaux_ might also be connected with guimer, lord of saint-omer, who appears in the beginning of _ogier le danios_, if the form, guimer, did not seem rather to derive from withmarus."[ ] [footnote : _romania_, , p. .] [footnote : with this note may be connected the following page of the wauters, a chronological table of charters and printed acts, vol. ii, p. , : "baldéric, bishop of the tournaisiens and the noyonnais, confirms the cession of the tithe and patronage of templeuve, which was made to the abbey of saint-martin de tournai by two knights of that town, arnoul and guinemer, and by the canon _géric. actum tornaci, anno domenice incarnationis m.c. iii, regnante rege philippo, episcopante domo baldrico pontifice_. extracts for use in the ecclesiastic history of belgium, d year, p. ."] leaving the _chansons de geste_, guinemer reappears in the history of the crusades. count baudouin of flanders and his knights, while making war in the holy land ( ), see a vessel approaching, more than three miles from the city of tarsus. they wait on the shore, and the vessel casts anchor. "whence do you come?" is always the first question asked in like circumstances. "from flanders, from holland, and from friesland." they were repentant pirates, who after having combed the seas had come to do penance by a pilgrimage to jerusalem. the christian warriors joyously welcome these sailors whose help will be useful to them. their chief is a guinemer, not from saint-omer but boulogne. he recognizes in count baudouin his liege lord, leaves his ship and decides to remain with the crusaders. "_moult estait riche de ce mauvais gaeng._" the whilom pirate contributes his ill-gotten gains to the crusade.[ ] [footnote : _receuil des historiens des croisades_, western historians, volume i, book iii and xxiii, p. : _comment guinemerz et il galiot s'accompaignierent avec baudouin_.] in another chapter of the _histoire des croisades_, this guinemer besieged lalische, which "is a most noble and ancient city situated on the border of the sea; it was the only city in syria over which the emperor of constantinople was ruler." lalische or laodicea in syria, _laodicea ad mare_--now called latakia--was an ancient roman colony under septimus severus, and was founded on the ruins of the ancient ramitha by seleucus nicator, who called it laodicea in honor of his mother laodice. guinemer, who expected to take the city by force, was in his turn assaulted and taken prisoner by the garrison. baudouin, with threats, demanded him back and rescued him; but esteeming him a better seaman than a combatant on the land, he invited him to return to his ship, take command of his fleet, and navigate within sight of the coast, which the former pirate "very willingly did." a catalogue of the deeds of henri i, king of france ( - )[ ] mentions in this same period a guinemer, lord of lillers, who had solicited the approval of the king for the construction of a church in his château, to be dedicated to notre-dame and saint-omer. the royal approval was given in , completing the authorization of baudouin, count of flanders, and of dreu, bishop of thérouanne at the request of pope gregory vi, to whom the builder had gone in person to ask consent for his enterprise. was this guinemer, like the pirate of jerusalem, doing penance for some wrong? thus we find two guinemers in the eleventh century, one in palestine, the other in italy. about this same period the family probably left flanders to settle in brittany, where they remained until the revolution. the corsair of boulogne became a ship-builder at saint-malo, having his own reasons for changing parishes. the flemish tradition then gives place to that of brittany, which is authenticated by documents. one olivier guinemer gave a receipt in to the executors of duke jean ii de bretagne. he held a fief under saint-sauveur de dinan, "on which the duke had settled tenants contrary to agreements." the executors, to liquidate the estate, had to pay immense sums for "indemnification, restitution and damages," and took care to "take receipts from all those to whom their commission obliged them to distribute money."[ ] the treaty of guérande (april , ), which ended the war for the breton succession and gave the duchy to jean de montfort, though under the suzerainty of the king of france, is signed by thirty breton knights, among whom is a geoffrey guinemer. a mathelin guinemer, squire, is mentioned in an act received at bourges in ; while in , an yvon guynemer, man-at-arms, is promoted to full pay, and he already spells his name with a _y_. [footnote : _catalogue des actes d'henri i, roi de france_ ( - ), by frédéric soehnée, archivist at the national archives.] [footnote : _histoire de bretagne_, by dom lobineau ( ), vol. i, p. . _recherches sur la chevalerie du duché de bretagne, by a. de couffon de kerdellech_, vol. ii (nantes, vincent forest and emile grimaud, printers and publishers).] it is somewhat difficult to trace the history of this lesser provincial nobility, engaged sometimes in petty wars, sometimes in the cultivation of their domains. in a book glorifying the humble service of ancient french society, _gentilshommes campagnards_, m. pierre de vaissiére has shown how this race of rural proprietors lived in the closest contact with french agriculture, counseling and defending the peasant, clearing and cultivating their land, and maintaining their families by its produce. in his _mémoires_, the famous rétif de la bretonne paints in the most picturesque manner the patriarchal and authoritative manners of his grandfather who, by virtue of his own unquestioned authority prevented his descendant from leaving his native village and establishing in paris. paris was already exercising its fascination and uprooting the youth of the time. the court of versailles had already weakened the social authority of families still attached to their lands. [transcriber's note: the following typographical errors in the original were corrected: batallion (to battalion) fleugzeg (to flugzeug) éclaties (to éclatiez) kamfflieger (to kampfflieger)] air service boys over the atlantic or the longest flight on record by charles amory beach contents chapter i out for business ii the rescue iii a bold project iv the rest billet v the air raiders vi striking a blow for liberty vii the battle in the air viii bombing the bridge ix convincing proof x groping for light xi the amazing plan xii gripped in suspense xiii off for the channel xiv ready for the start xv the long flight begun xvi the first night out xvii when the submarine struck xviii the cold hand of fear xix a desperate chance xx on the ice floe xxi attacked by a polar bear xxii when the iceberg rolled over xxiii the end of the flight xxiv surprising bridgeton xxv to see the war through--conclusion chapter i out for business "look! what does that mean, tom?" "it means that fellow wants to ruin the yankee plane, and perhaps finish the flier who went down with it to the ground." "not if we can prevent it, i say. take a nosedive, tom, and leave it to me to manage the gun!" "he isn't alone, jack, for i saw a second skulker in the brush, i'm sure." "we've got to drive those jackals away, no matter at what risk. go to it, tom, old scout!" the big battle-plane, soaring fully two thousand feet above the earth, suddenly turned almost upside-down, so that its nose pointed at an angle close to forty-five degrees. like a hawk plunging after its prey it sped through space, the two occupants held in their places by safety belts. as they thus rushed downward the earth seemed as if rising to meet them. just at the right second tom raymond, by a skillful flirt of his hand, brought the yankee fighting aircraft back to an even keel, with a beautiful gliding movement. immediately the steady throb of the reliable motor took up its refrain, while the buzz of the spinning propellers announced that the plane was once more being shot through space by artificial means. the two occupants were tom raymond and jack parmly, firm friends and chums who had been like david and jonathan in their long association. it was tom who acted as pilot on the present occasion, while jack took the equally important position of observer and gunner. both were young americans with a natural gift in the line of aviation. they had won their spurs while serving under french leadership as members of the famous lafayette escadrille. the adventures they encountered at that time are related in the first book of this series, entitled: "air service boys flying for france." after america entered the war, like all other adventurous young yankee fliers, the two air service boys offered their services to their own country and joined one of the new squadrons then being formed. here the two youths won fresh laurels, and both were well on the way to be recognized "aces" by the time pershing's army succeeded in fighting its way through the nests of machine-gun traps that infested the great argonne forest. it was in the autumn of the victory year, , and the german armies were being pushed back all along the line from switzerland to the sea. under the skillful direction of marshal foch, the allies had been dealing telling and rapid blows, now here, now there. to-day it was the british that struck; the day afterward the french advanced their front; and next came the turn of the americans under pershing. everywhere the discouraged and almost desperate huns were being forced in retreat, continually drawing closer to the border. already the sanguine young soldiers from overseas were talking of spending the winter on the rhine. some even went so far as to predict that their next christmas dinner would be eaten in berlin. it was no idle boast, for they believed it might be so, because victory was in the very air. so great was the distress of the hun forces that it was believed marshal foch had laid a vast trap and was using the fresh and enthusiastic yankees to drive a dividing wedge between ludendorff's two armies, when a colossal surrender must inevitably follow. the whole world now knows that this complete break-up of the teutons was avoided solely by their demand for an armistice, with an agreement on terms that were virtually a surrender--absolute in connection with their navy. tom and jack had displayed considerable ability in carrying out their work, and could no longer be regarded as novices. each of them had for some time been anticipating promotion, and hoped to return home with the rank of lieutenant at least. they had been entrusted with a number of especially dangerous missions, and had met with considerable success in putting these through. like most other ambitious young fliers, they hoped soon to merit the title of "ace," when they could point to at least six proven victories over rival pilots, with that number of planes sent down in combat. on the present occasion they had sallied out "looking for trouble," as jack put it; which, in so many words, meant daring any hun flier to meet them and engage in a duel among the clouds. other planes they could see cruising toward the northwest, and also flying in an easterly direction; but as a rule these bore signs of being allies' machines, and in all probability had yankee pilots manning them. apparently the hun airmen were otherwise employed. they seemed to prefer venturing out after nightfall, gathering in force, and often taking a strange satisfaction in bombing some red cross hospital, where frequently their own wounded were being treated alongside the american doughboys. during the weeks that the americans were battling in the great argonne forest the two air service boys had contributed to the best of their ability to each daily drive. again and again had they taken part in such dangerous work as fell to the portion of the aviators. their activities at that time are set down in the fifth volume of this series, entitled: "air service boys flying for victory." frequently they had found themselves in serious trouble, and their escapes were both numerous and thrilling. through it all they had been highly favored, since neither of them had thus far met with a serious accident. numbers of their comrades had been registered as "missing," or were known to have been shot down and lost. it was no unusual thing a few days after a flier had gone out and failed to return at evening, for a hun pilot to sail over and drop a note telling that he had fallen in combat, and was buried at a certain place with his grave so marked that it could be easily found. there seemed to be a vein of old-time chivalry among the german airmen even up to the very last, such as had not marked any other branch of their fighting forces, certainly not the navy. and the americans made it a point to return this courtesy whenever an opportunity arose. tom was proud of his ability to execute that difficult feat known as a "nose-dive." more than once it had extricated him from a "pocket" into which he found himself placed by circumstances, with three or more enemy planes circling around and bombarding him from their active guns. at such times the only hope of the attacked pilot lay in his ability to drop down as if his machine had received a fatal blow and when once far below the danger point again to recover an even keel. jack never doubted what the result would be, having the utmost confidence in his comrade. the wind rushed past his ears as they pitched downward; and just when objects on the ground loomed up suggestively there was the expected sudden shift of the lever, a consequent change in the pointing of the plane's nose, and then they found themselves on the new level, with the motor again humming merrily. jack was on the alert and quickly discovered the object that just then enlisted their whole attention. as he had suspected when using the glasses from the higher level, it was a yankee bomber that lay partly hidden among the bushes where it had fallen. he could easily see the indian head marking the broken wing. the pilot was sitting near by as though unable to make a run for it, although jack imagined he must suspect the approach of danger, for he gripped something that glinted in the sunlight in his right hand. it was, of course, an automatic pistol. looking hastily around jack glimpsed the creeping figures of the two germans who, having seen the fall of the yankee plane, must have come out from some place of concealment and were bent on finishing the pilot, or at least taking him prisoner. they had almost reached a point where it would have been possible for them to open fire on the wounded american. jack looked in vain for any second figure near the fallen plane. if the pilot had had an observer with him, which was most likely, considering the fact that he had been using a bombing machine, the latter must have been dispatched for relief some time before. "there they are, tom!" burst from the one who crouched close to the machine gun, and pointing as he spoke. "swoop down and let me give them a volley!" the huns evidently realized what was coming, and feared that their intended victim might after all escape their hands. even as jack spoke there came a shot from below, and a bullet went screaming past close to the ears of the air service boys. it was followed by a second and a third in quick succession. what the marksmen hoped to do was either to kill the pilot or else to strike some vulnerable part of the engine, thus disabling it and wrecking the plane. those were chances which had to be taken continually; but as a rule the rapidity of flight rendered them almost negligible. jack waited no longer. the two men were about to fling themselves behind friendly trees, and but a small chance remained that he might catch them before they were able to shield themselves by these close-by trunks. jack, in his most energetic fashion, commenced to spray the vicinity with a shower of leaden missiles. the chatter of the machine gun drowned any cries from the two men below. the yankee plane swooped past the spot where the injured pilot still sat at bay, ready to sell his life dearly if the worst came. chapter ii the rescue the rat-tat-tat of gunfire suddenly ceased. jack could no longer cover the spot where the two huns were hiding behind the tree-trunks, and consequently it would be a sheer waste of ammunition to continue firing. but already tom had commenced to circle, and soon they would be swooping down upon the scene from another direction. jack kept on the alert, so as to note quickly any possible movement of the enemy. again he poured a hot fire on the place where he knew the germans were cowering, tearing up the ground with a storm of bullets as though it had been freshly harrowed. but the sturdy trees baffled him once more. "nothing doing, tom!" he called out, vexed. "we've got to drop down and go it on foot if we want to save that pilot!" "i see a good landing place!" announced the other almost instantly. "great luck! get busy then!" the ground chanced to be unusually smooth, and the plane, after bumping along for a short distance, came to a stand. meanwhile, both young fliers had succeeded in releasing themselves from their safety belts. together they jumped to the ground and started on a run toward the spot where those crouching figures had last been seen. of course, the huns must already know of their landing and would be ready to defend themselves, if not to attack; but, nothing daunted by this possibility, the pair pushed ahead through bushes and past trees. "better separate, and attack 'em from two different angles, hadn't we, tom?" panted jack presently, as a shot was heard and something clipped a twig from a bush within a foot of his hand. "take the left, and i'll look after the right!" snapped out tom. both were armed with automatic pistols, for airmen can never tell when their lives may depend upon their ability to defend themselves, and so seldom make a flight without some such weapon in their possession. "they're on the run!" cried jack, in a tone of disgust; for he had really hoped to have a further brush with the skulking enemy. he sent several shots in their direction whenever he caught glimpses of the bounding figures, but without much hope of striking either of them. still, they had undoubtedly accomplished the business in hand, which was to save the yankee pilot. "he's over this way, jack," observed tom, moving to the right still further, after being joined by his comrade. "i can see the opening where he must have struck. the hun flier didn't bother to follow him down and find out if he'd made a count. he may have been here for some time." "i see him now," continued jack eagerly. "and it strikes me there's something familiar about his looks. yes, we've met that pilot before, tom. it's lieutenant colin beverly, one of the cleverest yankee aces of the newer squad." the aviator had already discovered the air service boys' presence. doubtless all that had occurred had been noted by him as he sat, waiting for anything that might happen; and the swoop of the american plane, as well as jack's firing, had of course told him help was near. "he's waving his hand to us," continued jack, answering in kind. "keep your gun ready for business," warned the other, inclined to be more cautious. "there may be other huns prowling around, because we're not far from their lines, you understand." a minute afterwards they reached the pilot of the wrecked bomber. "hello, fellows!" was his familiar greeting, as he thrust a hand out toward them. "glad to see you, all right. they were after me, just as i suspected. my observer was wounded in the arm, but went for help. as for me, save for a few scratches, i made the fall in great luck. but i'm still crippled from that other accident. just got out of hospital a week ago. they tried to keep me from going up, but i'd have died only for the permission." colin beverly they knew to be one of the liveliest fliers then serving in the american ranks. he had gained a name for daring second to none. early in his service he had won a reputation, and was already a double ace; which meant that he was officially credited with at least twelve victories over enemy fliers. tom and jack had met him a number of times previously, and there had always been a strong attraction between the three. lieutenant beverly was one of fortune's favorites in so far as worldly riches went, since he had a million at least to his credit, it was said. he had enlisted as soon as the united states entered the war, and had chosen aviation as his branch of the service, since it offered his venture-venturesome, almost reckless, spirit a chance for action. he had had numerous escapes so narrow that his friends began to believe some magical charm must protect him. as he had mentioned when speaking to them on their arrival, his closest call had sent him to the hospital with a fractured bone in his left leg; and even when discharged as cured he really should not have returned to the harness; only, those in authority found it difficult to keep such an energetic soul in check. "those chaps will come back with more of their kind, i reckon," tom remarked. "they've made up their minds to get you, lieutenant, and when a hun is bent on a thing he keeps on trying. we can take you along with us." "i hate to desert the bus," complained the other, giving his wrecked plane a wry look. "but then what's the use of sticking it out? chances are we'll be through the mess before they ever get it in fighting trim again. yes, i'll go along, boys, if you'll lend me a shoulder. gave that game leg another little knock in falling; but then, i might have broken my neck, so i'm thankful." "the beverly luck again!" chuckled jack, at which the intrepid flier nodded with kindling eyes. "getting to believe i can carry anything through i care to tackle, for a fact, fellows," he remarked, with the same amazing confidence that had taken him along so many times in a whirlwind of success. they ranged alongside, and he leaned on tom's arm as he limped off, giving no further heed to the mass of damaged engine, crumpled wood, bent steel guys, and torn canvas that had once been a powerful bombing plane. jack kept in readiness to meet any attack that might spring up, though they had reason to believe the huns had temporarily withdrawn from the field of action. "your friend harry leroy dropped in to see me while i was laid up, raymond," remarked the lieutenant, with a broad grin, as he saw how his words caused the color to flash into the bronzed cheeks of the other. "haven't seen harry for some time," tom replied, his eyes twinkling with pleasure; "but i heard of you through his sister. nellie said you were the hardest patient she'd ever tackled, because you kept fretting to get out and be at work again." "yes, miss leroy was my nurse for a week, and i think i improved more under her care than at any other time. she's a fine girl, raymond." "sure thing, lieutenant. i ought to know," came the unabashed answer. "i've known nellie for some time, and that was always my opinion. we're good friends all right." "h'm! i guess you must be," chuckled the other. "i wish you could have seen her look when i mentioned that i knew you well, and liked you in the bargain. i kept talking tom raymond a full streak just to watch the blushes play over her face and the light shine in her eyes. raymond, you're a lucky dog." "here's our plane, and we'll soon be able to get going with such a smooth bit of ground ahead," tom hastened to remark, though it was easy to see that what the other said had thrilled him. "all aboard!" sang out jack, after a last quick look around. "no huns in sight, as far as i can see." the ascent was easily made, for, as tom had said, they were favored with an unusually level stretch of ground beyond, over which the plane rolled decently until the pilot switched his lever and they started to soar. from some place close by an unseen enemy commenced to fire again, but without success. once fully on their way, the danger faded out of sight. again they were spinning through space, with the earth fading below them. "back home, tom?" called out jack, and the pilot nodded an affirmative. swiftly they sped, and presently were dropping back to earth at the spot whence their outgoing flight had started. here there were evidences of bustle, with planes coming and going all the while. couriers could be seen on horses or motorcycles speeding away with important news to be sent from the nearest field telephone station in touch with division headquarters. the landing was made without incident, though curious glances were cast in their direction. many knew that tom and his chum had made their ascent without a third passenger, and the presence of lieutenant beverly announced that some sort of tragedy of the air had occurred. a number of other pilots swooped down upon them to learn the particulars. as usual they were inclined to be jocular, and greeted the limping beverly with a volley of questions, as well as remarks concerning that "luck" of which he had talked. "they can't get you, no matter how they try, beverly," one called out. "another machine to the scrap-heap!" laughingly observed the most celebrated of yankee aces, slapping colin on the shoulder. "makes an even dozen for you i understand. planes may come and planes may go but you go on forever. well, long may you wave, old chap! here's wishing you luck. so the boys picked you up, did they? nice work, all right." "just in time, too," confessed beverly, "because there were some huns on the way to finish me that had to be chased off." tom had been noticing something which he thought a bit strange. it was a way lieutenant beverly had of looking at him curiously, as if deciding something in his mind which had suddenly gripped him. "is there anything else we can do for you, lieutenant?" he finally asked, when they had left the bevy of pilots and mechanics behind and were heading toward their quarters; for tom wished to see the other comfortable before he and jack ascended once more. "i don't believe there is--at present," the other slowly replied. "but this accidental meeting may develop into something worth while; that is, if you chaps would care to join me in a sensational flight." at hearing these words jack began to show a sudden interest. "if you know anything about us, lieutenant!" he exclaimed eagerly, "you ought to understand that we've always been willing to tackle any job coming our way." "this one," continued the other gravely, "promises to be an unusually dangerous enterprise that if successful, will be sure to win the crew of the big bombing plane tremendous honors and perhaps rapid advancement." "you're only exciting us more and more by saying that," said tom. "suppose you explain what it is, and then we could decide whether we'd want to join you or not." "my sentiments exactly," added jack. lieutenant beverly looked from one face to the other. he seemed to be mentally weighing the chances of his ever being able to run across two more promising candidates for the honor of sharing his secret than the pair of ambitious lads then in touch with him. as though his decision was taken he suddenly exclaimed: "it's a go, then! i'll let you into my little secret, which so far hasn't been shared by a single living man. then later on you can decide if you care to accept the risk for the sake of the glory success would bring, as well as striking a blow for the flag we all love!" chapter iii a bold project "pitch in, please!" urged the impatient jack parmly. "listen, then, boys," commenced the other earnestly. "you doubtless know that i've got more money than is good for any single man to handle? well, i've squandered a small bunch of it in having a wonderful plane made and sent abroad. of course it's intended to be handed over to the government in due course of time, but with the proviso that they allow me to engineer the first long flight in it." "that sounds interesting, lieutenant," admitted jack, apparently considerably impressed. "tell us some more about it, please," urged the practical tom. "it's possibly by long odds the largest bombing plane that so far has ever been built, even beating those big caproni machines of italy that can carry a dozen in the crew. this martin bomber can be run by three hands, although several more might be used if the right kind were found. its possibilities in the way of distance and continued flight can hardly be estimated, since all depends on the cargo carried. the less crew, the more petrol and bombs to make up the load." "yes, we get that, lieutenant," said jack, as the other paused briefly, possibly to get his breath, and then again because he wished the information to sink slowly into their minds. "with this monster biplane i assure you it will be an easy matter to fly all the way to berlin, bomb the city so as to terrify the inhabitants even as they tried to do to londoners, turn around, and return here without touching ground once; yes, and if necessary, repeating the trip." jack showed intense excitement, while tom too was deeply interested. "we knew that thing would soon arrive," the latter said; "and they say the germans are getting cold feet already with the prospect before them. but it's come a little sooner than i, for one, expected. what's your big scheme, lieutenant?" "berlin or bust?" chanced jack explosively. "you've hit the right nail on the head, parmly," admitted the other, with a nod of appreciation. "i mean to show that it can be done. just as soon as i can get that big bomber here, and the permission to take on the job, well start some fine night for berlin and give heine the jolt of his life." jack thrust out his hand impulsively. "you can count for one on my going, lieutenant; that is, provided i get permission from the boss!" he announced promptly. "i'm inclined to say the same," tom added quietly, though his face displayed an eagerness he did not otherwise betray. with that lieutenant beverly squeezed a hand of each. "i mean to start things going shortly," he told them. "and you'll surely hear from me, for i must keep track of you boys." "where is the big martin bomber now, did you say?" asked jack. "i didn't mention the fact, but it lies hidden in a special hangar on the french coast, not a great distance from dunkirk," came the answer. "i have a special guard watching it, and my mechanics keep everything ready for any sudden call. right now she's tuned up to top-notch pitch, and a full supply of gas is kept on hand all the time, as well as everything needed in the way of supplies. that's where money talks." jack looked his admiration, and then burst out with: "you're sure a dandy, lieutenant beverly, and if ever you undertake that wonderful trip to berlin and back i only hope i have the great good luck to be aboard." "consider it settled then," he was told. "and now that i've found my comrades for the venture i can go about further details, and start getting the consent of headquarters to the enterprise. one of these nights berlin is going to get a shock that may help bring the war to a speedy close." "here's our dugout," said tom. "we're going back to work again after i've bandaged jack's finger, for he gave it an ugly scratch when handling the gun, he doesn't himself know just how. can we do anything further for you right now, lieutenant?" "thank you, nothing, raymond. i shall get on nicely. i'll rest up a day or so while things are simmering connected with that big affair. of course it's to be a great secret among the three of us; not another soul knows anything about my project or the giant bombing plane i had shipped over to france." "that's understood, and we're as mum as a couple of clams," jack told him; and so they separated, little dreaming at the moment what a remarkable series of circumstances were fated to arise that would bring them together for the carrying out of an enterprise greater than anything as yet recorded in the annals of aerial exploits. tom and jack were back on the field before half an hour had elapsed, making a fresh start for the clouds, just as eager as ever to have some adventurous hun airman accept their challenge and give them battle. for a whole hour did they fly back and forth in the disputed territory between the two armies. far beneath they could see by the aid of the powerful binoculars marching columns of soldiers, all heading toward the northwest. these they knew to be the german forces, making one of their regular daily retreats in fairly good order. behind them the hun armies left innumerable nests of machine-gunners to dispute the advance of the yankee battalions, and hold them in check, even at the price of utter annihilation. many times the men selected for this sacrifice to the fatherland held grimly on until they were completely wiped out by the sweep of the americans. occasionally one of the yankee pilots, provoked because none of the enemy dared to accept the gauge of battle he flung before them, would swoop down and try to make a target of these marching columns. then for a brief period there would be exciting work, with the machine gun of the scurrying plane splashing its spray of bullets amidst the scurrying soldiers, and the daring pilot in return taking their volleys. perhaps, if the boldness of the americans caused them to take too great chances, there might be one less plane return to its starting point that day; and the report would be brought in that the pilot had "met his fate in the discharge of his duty." wearied at length of the useless task, the air service boys finally gave it up for that afternoon. jack in particular showed signs of keen disappointment, for he always chafed under inaction. "there was some talk of another raid for tonight, you remember, tom," he said, when they once more alighted and gave the plane over into the charge of the hostlers; "and if it turns out that way i only hope we're detailed to go along to guard the bombers. it's growing worse and worse right along these days, when fritz seems to have gotten cold feet and refuses to accept a dare." "i see fellows reading letters," remarked tom suddenly. "let's hope there is something for us." "it's been a long time since i heard from home," sighed jack. "i certainly hope everything is going on well in old virginia these days. there's captain peters waving something at us right now, tom!" "letters, jack, and a sheaf of them at that!" "come on, let's run!" urged the impatient one, suiting his actions to the words by starting off on a gallop. tom took it a little more slowly so that when he arrived and received his letters from the aviation instructor, who happened to be in the camp at the time, jack was already deeply immersed in one which he had received. it was late in the afternoon. the sun hung low in the west, looking fiery red, which promised a fair day on the morrow. once he had his letters, however, tom paid but scant attention to anything else. his news from virginia must have been pleasant, if one could judge from the smile that rested upon his wind and sun-tanned face as he read on. again in memory he could see those loved ones in the old familiar haunts, going about their daily tasks, or enjoying themselves as usual. and whenever they sat under the well-remembered tree in the cool of the early fall evening, with the soft virginia air fanning their cheeks, the red and golden hues of frost-touched leaves above them, he knew their talk was mostly of him, the absent one, most fondly loved. tom looked up. he thought he had heard a groan, or something very similar, break from the lips of his chum. it startled tom so that when he saw how troubled jack looked a spasm of alarm gripped his heart. "why, what is the matter with you?" he cried, leaning forward and laying a hand on the other's arm. "have you had bad news from home?" jack nodded his head, and as he turned his eyes his chum saw there was a look of acute anxiety in them. "no one dead, or sick, i hope, jack?" continued the other apprehensively. "no, at least that is spared me, tom; they are all well. but just the same, it's a bad muddle. and the worst of it is i'm thousands of miles off, held up by army regulations, when i ought to get home for a short visit right away." "see here, is it anything connected with that burson property--has that matter come to a head at last?" demanded tom, as a light dawned upon him. "nothing less," assented the other gloomily. "the issue has been suddenly forced, and may be settled any day. if i'm not there, according to the eccentric will of my uncle, joshua adams kinkaid, that property will fall into the hands of my cousin, randolph carringford, who, as we both know, is just at present over here acting in a confidential capacity to some government official." "yes, i've seen him," said tom, frowning. "and to tell the honest truth his face didn't impress me strongly. in fact, i didn't like your cousin. what's the use? all virginia knows that randolph carringford is a black sheep--that no decent man or woman will acknowledge him for a friend. wonder what joshua kinkaid meant, anyhow, by ringing him in. but are the lands worth as much as it was believed, jack?" "i learn in this letter from our lawyer that the richest kind of coal veins have been located on the burson property in west virginia; and that they promise to be valued at possibly a million dollars. think of what that would mean to the parmly family! for we are far from being rich. father lost his grip on business you know, tom, when he volunteered, and went into the spanish war, and when he died did not leave very much." "do you suppose your cousin knows anything about this new development?" continued tom sympathetically. "he is too greedy not to have looked after every possible chance," came jack's despondent reply. "and now that this thing's come up i can begin to understand why he kept smiling in that way all the time he chatted with me a week ago when we chanced to meet. i think he had had a tip even then that this thing was coming off, and was laying his plans. though how he could known, i can't imagine." "then you suspect he may already be on his way across, and will arrive before you can get there to put in your claim?" asked tom. "even allowing that he had no news until this mail got in, tom, he'd get off a whole lot easier that i'll ever be able to, and so could catch a boat, while i kept untwisting the army red tape. it's a bad job all around, i'm afraid, and bound to make me feel blue." "there's only one thing for you to do, jack." remarked the energetic chum promptly, and his confidence gave the other considerable satisfaction. "what is that?" "apply for leave at once. and include me at the same time, because i'll go with you, of course, jack. we'll try to get back in time to join in the grand march to the rhine. promise me to do this before we sleep to-night!" "i will, tom, and here's my hand on it!" chapter iv the rest billet "here's a pretty kettle of fish, jack!" tom raymond remarked several hours later, as he came into the dingy dugout where his chum was sitting. a number of other pilots and observers occupied the same quarters, which had once been the refuge of german officers. wretched though these quarters were, they at least afforded security from the bursting shells that were being sent across now and then by the enemy, from their positions on the hills to the northwest. jack had been paying small heed to the merriment of his mates, who, like most young men gathered together in a group, had been carrying on high. sitting there with his head resting on his hand he had allowed himself to become buried in deep thought. a strained worried look had taken possession of his usually sunny face. "what's the matter now, tom?" he asked, with a deep sigh, as though he had been rudely brought back to a realization of the fact that he was still in france, where the battle raged, and far removed from those peaceful virginia scenes he had been picturing. "we're ordered out with that raiding party to-night," tom continued, lowering his voice to a whisper, since it was supposed to be a military secret, and not to be openly discussed. "oh! well, what does it matter?" asked jack, beginning to show animation. "we've put in our applications for leave, but the chances are they'll not be acted upon immediately, although we asked for speed. and nothing would please me more than to see action while i'm waiting. i'm afraid i'd go clean daffy unless i could forget my troubles in some way." "glad to hear you say that, jack, because i'm feeling particularly keen myself to be one of that bunch to-night" "when do we start?" demanded the other tersely. "not until two in the morning," came the low reply. "all that's been figured out with regard to the moon you know." jack took a quick glance around. so far as he could see, no one was paying the least attention to him and his comrade. one of the air pilots was trying to sing a song, being in jovial mood after receiving a letter that he admitted was from his "girl in the states" and the others manifested a desire to join in the chorus, though none of them dared let their voices out, since it was against the rules. "did you learn anything about the job we've got on hand, tom?" "yes, that's what i did; though i believe it was not generally told to all who are to be in the party," came the cautious reply. "of course just before the flight they'll be given full particulars, when orders are issued to the pilots and observers. it's a bridge this time, jack!" "that one spanning the river about twenty miles back of the german lines, do you mean?" "yes, it's the most important bridge within fifty miles. over it day and night the retreating boche armies are passing. there's hardly a minute that guns and regiments may not be seen passing across at that point." "yes," observed jack, "and a number of times some of our airmen have tried to bomb it in the daytime; but fritz keeps such a vigilant watch we never could succeed in getting close enough to do any material damage. and so the high command has decided that bridge must be knocked to flinders!" "we're going out to make the attempt, anyhow," resumed tom, nodding. "four big bombing machines in the bunch, guarded by eight battleplanes; and we've the good fortune to be chosen as the crew of one. i consider we're lucky, jack." "that's right, tom. though i don't feel quite as keen for it as i would have been had i not received that letter from our lawyer, asking me to hurry back home if i could possibly make it. still, i'll be in for a bad night, anyhow, and might just as well be working." "are you worrying about your cousin?" demanded tom suspiciously. "to tell you the truth i am, more or less," jack confessed. "i know him as a man utterly without principle. when he knows that it is a race between us to see which one can get to america first, so as to win the prize my foolish uncle left in such a haphazard way, there's absolutely nothing, i honestly believe, that randolph wouldn't attempt in order to keep me from getting there in advance of him." "well, try to forget all that just now," said tom. "i've a nice little surprise for you, jack. i suppose you know they've got a sort of 'y' hut running back here a bit?" "heard some of the fellows talking about it, but, somehow, didn't seem to take much stock in the news. fact is, i've temporarily lost my taste for those doughnuts and the girls who give their time to jollying up our fellows, as well as attending to their many wants in the line of letter writing and such things." "perhaps," insinuated tom, with a mild grin, "a doughnut mightn't go so badly now if the girl who offered it happened to answer to the name of bessie?" at that jack suddenly began to show more interest. a gleam came into his saddened eyes and a faint smile to his face. "that's an altogether different thing, tom!" he exclaimed. "do you really mean that bessie and mrs. gleason are so close as all that?" "if you care to walk out with me you can be talking to them inside of fifteen minutes," came the ready answer. "and while about it, i might as well tell you that nellie is there too. seems that she's attached to a field hospital staff that's keeping us close company, and, meeting the gleasons, came over for the evening. she's been overworked lately, and needs some rest. i promised to come back for a short while, and fetch you along." "did--er, bessie ask you to look me up?" asked jack confusedly. "to be sure! twice at least. and i had to promise solemnly i'd do it even if i had to take you by the collar and hustle you there. but our time is limited, and we'd better be on our way, jack." the other showed an astonishing return to his old form. apparently the mere fact that he was about to see the gleasons again caused him to forget, temporarily at least, all about his fresh troubles. they were soon hurrying along, now and then dropping flat as some shell shrieked overhead or burst with a crash not far away. their relations with mrs. gleason and bessie were very remarkable, and of a character to bind them close together in friendship. in fact, as has been described at length in one of the earlier books of this series, tom and jack had been mainly instrumental in releasing the mother and young daughter from a chateau where they were being held prisoner by an unscrupulous and plotting relative, with designs on their fortune. the so-called "hut" of the y.m.c.a. workers was really only another dilapidated and abandoned german dugout, which had been hurriedly arranged as a sort of makeshift headquarters, where the doughboys who could get leave might gather and find such amusement as the conditions afforded. there were salvation army lassies present too, with their pies and doughnuts that made the boys feel closer to home than almost anything else, and even a sprinkling of red cross nurses from the field hospital who had been given a brief leave for recuperation. adjoining this particular rest billet was another of similar character run by the k. of c., which was also well patronized; indeed there seemed to be a friendly rivalry between the organizations to discover which could spread the most sunshine and cheer abroad. jack immediately was pounced upon by a pretty, young girl whose face was either very sunburned or covered with blushes. this was of course the bessie mentioned by tom. others who watched professed a bit of envy because jack received all her attention after he appeared. nellie leroy, the red cross nurse, looked very sweet in her regulation hospital uniform, with the insignia of her calling on her sleeve. if her face bore a sad expression it was no more than must be expected of one seeing so much suffering at close quarters as came to the share of all the women and girls who devoted their very lives to such a calling. in tom's eyes she was the prettiest girl in all france. it could also be seen that nellie was very fond of the stalwart young air pilot, from the way in which her eyes rested on his figure whenever he chanced to be absent from her side during the next hour; which to tell the truth was not often. of course nothing was said about the night's dangerous work that lay ahead for the two chums. but bessie noticed that jack occasionally looked grave, and questioned him concerning it. in answer he took her into his confidence to a certain extent concerning his reason for wanting to be in virginia. the time for separating came all too soon. tom was very particular about this, being a firm believer in duty before pleasure. "look us up often if you get the chance," said mrs. gleason, who had been actively at work all the evening carrying out her customary duties, and proving indeed a "good angel" to scores of the young soldiers, who looked upon her as they might on their own mothers. "you can depend on it we will," said tom, giving nellie a warm look that caused her eyes to drop and a wave of color to come into her cheeks. "wild horses couldn't keep me away, if i can get across," jack told bessie, as he was squeezing her little hand at separating. "but then you never know what's going to happen these days. all sorts of things are possible. if i do start across the big pond you'll hear of it, bessie." jack looked back and waved his hand to the little group standing in the door of the dugout. he seemed much more cheerful than earlier in the evening, tom thought; and as that had been one of his motives in getting the other across from the aviation camp he felt satisfied. "and now for business," he remarked as they made their way along, with a frequent bursting shell giving them light to see any gap in the road into which they might otherwise have stumbled. fritz was unusually active on this particular night, for some reason or other, for he kept up that hammering hour after hour. it might be the german high command suspected that the americans were ready to make a more stupendous push than had as yet been undertaken, with the idea of capturing a whole division, or possibly two, before they could get away; and this bombardment was continued in hopes of discouraging them. the two air service boys did not bother themselves about this, being content to leave all such matters to those in command. they had their orders and expected to obey them to the letter, which was quite enough for them. once more in their dugout, tom and his comrade crawled into their limited sleeping quarters simply to rest, neither of them meaning to try to forget themselves in slumber. when the time came for action they were soon crawling out of the hole in the ground. as pilots came and went unnoticed, each intent on his individual work, their departure caused not the faintest ripple. in fact, there were two other airmen who also came out and joined them when making for the place of the temporary canvas hangars, they, too, having had secret orders concerning this same night raid. arriving on the open field, they found a busy scene awaiting them. here were mechanics by the score getting planes ready for ascension. the hum of motors and the buzz of propellers being tuned up could be heard in many quarters. those sounds always thrilled the hearts of the two boys; it seemed to challenge them to renewed efforts to accomplish great things in their chosen profession. when, however, they reached their own hangar and found a knot of mechanics working furiously, tom's suspicions instantly arose. "what's wrong here?" he asked the man who was in charge of the gang. "there's been some sort of ugly business going on, i'm afraid," came the reply; "for we're replacing several wire stays that look as if they'd been partly eaten by a corrosive acid. smacks of rank treachery, sergeant." chapter v the air raiders upon hearing the words uttered by the mechanic who handled the men working at their battleplane, tom and his chum exchanged meaning looks. "can you make it perfectly safe again before half an hour passes?" asked the former anxiously. "surely," came the confident reply. "i know what's in the wind, and you'll be fit for any sort of flight when another fifteen minutes has gone by. we're on the last stay now, and i've carefully examined the motor and every other thing about the plane. don't fear to risk your lives on my report. i'd go up myself willingly if i had the chance." "all right, sessions, we're willing to take your word for it," tom assured him, and then drew his comrade aside. jack on his part was eager for a little talk between themselves. that staggering fact had appalled, as well as angered, him. why should their particular plane have been selected for such treacherous work, among all the scores connected with the air service in that sector of the fighting front? "what do you make of this thing, tom?" he immediately demanded. "it's an ugly bit of business, i should say," came the guarded reply. "you mean calculated to make every one feel timid about taking any extraordinary risk--is that it?" continued jack. "yes, if the fact were generally circulated. but according to my mind they'll keep it quiet until after the armada gets off. no use alarming the others, though orders have gone out i presume to have every plane carefully examined. still, that would only be ordinary caution; we never go up without doing such a thing." "tom, do you think there could be any possible connection between this work of a german spy, as it appears on the surface, and my news from mr. smedley, the lawyer?" "it's possible--even probable, jack. a whole lot depends on whether we learn of any other plane having been meddled with. one thing sure, it'll spur them to greater vigilance about watching things here. this isn't the first time there's been a suspicion of rank treachery. planes have been known to be meddled with before now." "i wouldn't put it past him!" muttered jack sullenly. "meaning your cousin randolph, i suppose," tom added. "nice opinion to have of a near relative, i must say. but then i'm inclined to agree with you. it may be only a queer coincidence, your getting such important news this afternoon, and some unknown party trying to bring about our downfall and death in this brazen way only a few hours afterwards." "and using corrosive acid, too," spluttered the indignant jack. "i've heard of ropes being partly cut, even wire stays or struts filed to weaken them; but this is the limit. don't i wish they'd caught the skunk in the act!" "he'd never have left this aviation camp alive," said tom sternly. "why, the boys would be so furious they'd be tempted to lynch him offhand." "and i'd be glad to help pull the rope!" snapped jack. "a more cowardly act couldn't be imagined than this. air pilots take great enough chances, without being betrayed by spies or traitors." "we'd better say nothing about it," tom concluded. "i'm going to run over the entire machine on my own account." "and i'll do the same, tom; for a pilot can't be too sure of his mount, especially when there's such meanness afoot." they accordingly busied themselves after their individual fashion. every brace and stay was looked over carefully and tested as only pilots know how. long experience, and many accidents have taught them where the weak spots lie, and they understand how to guard against the giving way at these points. so the minutes passed. other pilots had already ascended to await the assembling of the picked squadron at some given altitude. every minute or two could be heard the rush of some unit starting forth. there were few of the accompaniments of an ordinary ascent, for all loud cries had been banned. "all ready!" came the welcome words at last. the last strut had been carefully gone over, and now everything was pronounced in perfect condition. at the same time, after such a discovery had been made, it was only natural for the boys to feel a queer tug in the region of their hearts as they climbed to their seats, and with hands that quivered a little proceeded to make fast the safety belts. "there goes another bomber, which makes four--the full number you spoke of, tom," remarked jack. "i suppose we're holding up the procession more or less, worse luck, when usually we can be found in the lead." "the commander must know about our mishap," replied tom, "and isn't apt to blame us for any little delay. the night's still young, and we can reach our destination in half an hour, with time to spare. so cheer up, old comrade; everything's lovely and the goose hangs high. now we're off!" with that he gave the word, and paid attention to his motor, which started a merry hum. the propellers commenced to spin, and down the slight slope they ran with constantly increasing speed. all around them could be heard the refrain of planes in action; from above came similar sounds, and jack, looking up, discovered dim scurrying forms of mysterious shape that flitted across the star-decked sky like giant bats. now they, too, were rising swiftly in spirals. both kept a keen watch, for it was at this time they stood the greatest chance of taking part in an unfortunate collision that might result in a fatal disaster. but every pilot was on edge, and careful to avoid any such blunder. they had been well drilled in all the maneuvers connected with just such a hurried ascent in numbers. each plane had its regular orbit of action, and must not overstep the bounds on penalty of the commander's displeasure. after mounting to the arranged height, the air service boys found that it was a very animated region, though fully a thousand feet from the earth's surface. almost a dozen planes in all were moving in a great circle, their motors lazily droning, and the pilots ready to enter into squadron formation on signal. in fact, tom and his chum were the last to arrive, which under the circumstances was not to be wondered at. "all on deck, i reckon," called out jack, after he had taken a survey about him. "there's the signal from the flagship, tom. we've got to keep the red lantern ahead of us and fall into line. there go the bombers to the center, and our place you said was on the left, tailing the whole bunch." like a well disciplined aerial navy they fell into place, each taking its position as previously arranged. when the formation was made complete another signal was given. this meant the advance was now to begin, and the crossing of the german lines undertaken. unless there chanced to be some mistake made concerning the proper altitude required, so as to clear all possible bombardment when over the hun lines, this might be accomplished without danger. so far as was known, they had gauged the utmost capacity for reaching them possessed by the german anti-aircraft guns, and jack promised himself to jeer at the futile efforts of these gunners to explode their shrapnel shells close to the speeding armada. something must have been underrated, however; and, in fact, few plans can be regarded as absolutely perfect. the advancing raiders were passing over the enemy front when a furious bombardment suddenly burst forth below. jack could see the spiteful flashes of the numerous guns, and while the sound of the discharges came but faintly to his ears, to his consternation, all around them, as well as above and below, came sharp crackling noises, accompanied by bursts of dazzling light. they were actually in the midst of a storm of bursting projectiles and in immediate peril of having some damage done to their swift-flying planes such as would spell ruin to the enterprise, perhaps bring instant death to some of the fliers! chapter vi striking a blow for liberty "climb, tom! climb in a hurry!" jack parmly shrilled these words close to the ear of his chum. really, there was no need of his saying a single word, since the pilot had sensed their immediate danger just as quickly as had jack himself. already tom was pulling the lever that would point the nose of their aerial craft upward toward the stars, and take them to a much loftier elevation. the experience was very exciting while it lasted, jack thought. he saw the numerous planes, forming the raiding squadron break formation in great haste, each pilot being eager to dodge the bursting shells and seek an elevation where they could not reach his flimsy craft. it would take only one accidental shrapnel shell to cause the destruction of the best machine among them, and thus reduce the number of available airmen serving the cause of liberty. for a brief interval the explosions continued to sound all around them. but presently jack was enabled to breathe easily again. they had climbed beyond the range of the german guns, no matter how heavily charged; and, besides this, they sped along rapidly, so that the hun lines were soon left behind. "trouble's past. admiral signaling keep on this level, tom!" called out the observer. "got you, jack!" came the answer, heard above the rushing noises that "made the welkin ring," as jack told himself. the firing ceased as the german gunners realized, to their chagrin doubtless, that again their intended prey had eluded them. they must have set those anti-aircraft quick-firers of theirs in fresh elevated emplacements after the yankees had taken the measure of their power to do harm; but the trap, if such it was intended to be, had failed to catch a single victim. "did they get any of our crowd?" tom called out, feeling considerable uneasiness as to the result of the bombardment. "never touched us," he was immediately assured by the observant jack. "all the same it was a smart trick, and somebody's bound to be hauled over the coals on account of the blunder." "yes," admitted tom, speaking loud so as to be heard above the roar of the numerous planes around them, "because it might have played hob with the squadron, and even ruined the success of the whole expedition." after that they relapsed into silence. it was exceedingly difficult to try to keep up any sort of conversation while going at such a furious pace through the upper air currents. besides, the night was cold at such an elevation, and consequently both boys had their heads well muffled up, making use of hoods with goggles for the purpose. they also wore gloves on their hands, as well as heavy sweaters under their leather-lined coats. the formation, in a way, reminded jack of many a flock of wild geese that he had seen flying north or south over virginia in their spring and autumn migrations. in the lead went the battleplane containing the squadron commander, forming the apex of the triangle, and showing a fiery red eye in the shape of an automobile rear light as a rallying point for all the other machines. then the seven other battleplanes sank away from the apex, three on one side and four on the other, that of the air service boys being the one to the rear of all the rest. flying two and two abreast, and guarded on both sides by those sturdy fighting craft came the four huge bombers, each heavily laden with the most destructive of explosives. they, too, could show teeth if cornered and compelled to depend on their own defensive powers; for each of them carried a machine gun, of which the observer had been trained to make good use, just as he must know how to drop his bombs successfully when the proper instant arrived. all seemed quiet just at present, but none of those guiding the aerial racing craft deceived themselves with the belief that this could last long. it went without saying that the huns must realize the necessity for guarding the important bridge across which their beaten armies were flocking day and night in constantly increasing numbers. unless the guns could be taken across in safety, they stood to lose many of their best batteries. consequently they would be apt to assemble a flotilla of fighting planes in that vicinity, ready to soar aloft and give furious battle to any allied squadron venturesome enough to make the attempt at destruction. if the blowing up of the bridge could only be accomplished, the sacrifice of a few planes with their crews might be counted a cheap price to pay for the great benefits reaped. the minutes passed, and all the while the raiders were drawing nearer and nearer their intended goal. every pilot and observer in that squadron had been carefully selected with a view to his fitness for the gigantic task that had been laid out for accomplishment. there would be no hesitation when the eventful moment came, since none was present save those who had been tried in the furnace of battle and found to be fine gold, eighteen carat pure. such a thing as flinching when the test came was not to be considered; they would carry through their appointed tasks or fall while in the endeavor, paying the price the airman has ever had dangled before his eyes. jack was using his night-glass, and he now broke out with a cry. "we must be getting close to the bridge, tom! i can see flickering lights darting about, and i believe they must be planes rushing up into the air!" "like as not they've been warned of our coming by the row we're making," replied the pilot, in a shout. "then again those huns along the line would send word back, for they must know what we're aiming at. it's all the same to us. we came out after action, and we'd be terribly disappointed if we didn't get a lot of it." then came signals from the leading plane. closer formation was the rule from that time forward, since the bombers must be amply protected in order to allow their gunners an opportunity to get to work with those frightful explosives and hurl them at the place where the bridge was supposed to lie. both boys began to feel their pulses thrill with eagerness, as well as excitement. looking down, jack could detect moving lights, the source of which he could only speculate upon. then came a flash which must mark the discharge of the first anti-aircraft gun. the enemy was showing exceeding nervousness, for as yet the leading american plane could not be anywhere within range. with the burst of shrapnel there came a realization that the gunners below were only trying to get their range. the whole pack would break loose in another minute or less; but jack had reason to believe their altitude was such as to render the fusillade harmless. then down below he saw a sudden brilliant flash. that must mark the falling of a flaming bomb, dropped from one of the big planes in order to get a lead on their location. jack believed he had even glimpsed the bridge itself in that brief interval. how the prospect thrilled him! tom, on his part, had little opportunity to observe anything that was taking place earthward. his duty lay closer at hand, for he knew that a swarm of fighting gothas had started up to engage the attacking squadron, and realized that one or more of these hostile aircraft might suddenly appear close at hand, bent on bringing about their destruction. besides, constant vigilance was the price of safety in other particulars. with almost a dozen of their own planes speeding through space, a false move on the part of a careless pilot was apt to bring about a collision that could have only one result. jack made a discovery just then that caused him to cry out. "the signal, tom! we are to drop down and give the bombers a better chance to get there. no matter what the cost, we've got to reach that bridge to-night!" already tom was changing the course. they had begun to swing lower, each unit of the attacking squadron in its appointed place. a brief interval followed, and then came the bursting shrapnel again around them, while from several quarters close by hovering german planes commenced using their machine guns, to be answered by the challengers in like manner. chapter vii the battle in the air the din soon became general, one after another of the american planes joining in the battle. the german aircraft held off a little, fighting from afar, evidently thinking to accomplish their ends without taking too much risk. had they boldly assaulted, doubtless the result would have been much more disastrous to both sides. the big bombers had but one object in view, which was to bomb the important target below. to drop an explosive on a certain spot had been the most important training of those aboard these craft. they had been carefully selected from the ranks of the many observers taking service in the aviation branch of the service; and great things were expected of them now. the huns had concentrated the glare of numerous searchlights on the hub of the squadron's activities, so that the speeding planes could be seen darting hither and thither like bats during an august evening, darting around some arc-light in the street. the flash of the distant guns aboard the planes looked like faint fire-flies in action. no longer was the earth wrapped in darkness, for flares dropped by the bombers kept continually on fire. the bridge stood plainly out, and a keen eye, even without the aid of glasses, could distinguish the rush of terrorized german troopers trying to get clear of the danger zone before a well directed bomb struck home. jack, leaning from his seat, took all this in. he was keyed to the top-notch by what he saw and heard. tame indeed did most other incidents of the past appear when compared with this most stupendous event. "wow!" burst from his lips, as a sudden brilliant flash below told that the first huge bomb had struck; but with all that racket going on around of course no ordinary human voice could have been heard. he could see that it had not been a successful attempt, for the bomb struck the ground at some little distance away from the terminus of the structure spanning the river. however, it did considerable damage where it fell, and created no end of alarm among those who were near by. as yet the air service boys had not been engaged with any of the hostile planes, though most of the other yankee pilots seemed to be having their hands full in meeting and repelling fierce attacks. both kept in readiness for work should their turn come, tom manipulating the plane, and jack working the rapid-fire gun which he had learned to handle so cleverly. strangely enough, jack, as he looked, was reminded of a vast circus which he had once attended, and where tumblers, athletes, and trained animals were all performing in three rings at the same time. he had found it utterly impossible to watch everything that went on, and remembered complaining lustily afterwards in consequence. now there were some eleven rings in all, besides what was taking place thousands of feet below, where the bombs had started to burst, tearing great gaps in the ground close to the bridge, and causing the water itself to gush upward like spouting geysers. lower still dropped the venturesome pilots guiding the destinies of the four huge bombers. what chances they were taking, bent only on succeeding in the important task to which they had been assigned! jack knew he would never forget that dreadful crisis, no matter if he were allowed to live to the age of methuselah; such an impression did it make upon his mind. but their turn came at length, for in the dim light two big gothas were discovered swinging in toward them as though bent on bringing about the destruction of the yankee battleplane. jack forgot about what was taking place below, since all of his energies must now be directed toward beating off this double attack. it had come to the point of self-preservation. the hun airmen were playing a prearranged game of hunting in couples. while one made a feint at attacking, the other expected to take advantage of an exposure and inflict a fatal blow that would send the american aeroplane whirling to death. jack saw when the nearest plane opened fire. the spitting flame told him this, for it darted out like the fiery tongue of a serpent. he also realized that the bullets were cutting through space all around them; and a splinter striking his arm announced the fuselage of the plane had already been struck, showing the gunner had their range. then jack began work on his own account, not meaning to let the fight become one-sided. his duty was to pepper any of the enemy craft that came within range, regardless of consequences. to tom must be left the entire running of the plane motor, as well as the maneuvering that would form a part of the affray. heedless of what was taking place around them, the two chums devoted their attention to the task of baffling the designs of their two foes. wonderfully well did tom manage his aerial steed. they swung this way and that, dipped, rose, and cut corners in a dizzying fashion in the endeavor to confuse the aim of the hun marksmen. once jack experienced a sudden sinking in the region of his heart. there was a strange movement to the plane that made him fear the motor had been struck. he also missed the cheery hum at the same time, and felt a sickening sensation of falling. but immediately he realized that tom was only executing his pet drop, the nose-dive. one of the huns followed them down, just as a hawk-might pursue its prey. when the american plane came out of the dive at the new level jack saw that the hun was closer than ever, and once again starting to bombard them. at least they now had only a single adversary to deal with, which could be reckoned a point gained. most of the fighting was going on above them, but jack believed the bombers must be somewhere near by, possibly at a still lower level. again the maneuvering, or jockeying, for position commenced. in this air duel the pilot who knew his business best was going to come out ahead. it might be they were opposed by some celebrated german ace with a long list of victories to his credit, which would render their chances smaller. tom, however, seemed to be keeping up his end wonderfully well. the hissing missiles cut through the canvas of their wings, beat upon the side of the fuselage, and even nipped the air service boys more than once as they stormed past. neither of the boys knew whether they were seriously wounded or not; all they could do was to fight on and on, until something definite had been achieved on one side or the other. once jack felt something blinding him, and putting up a hand discovered that it was wet; yet he was not conscious of having been struck in the head by a passing bullet. dashing his sleeve across his eyes he shut his jaws still tighter together, and continued to play his gun as the opportunity arose. they were coming to closer quarters, and the issue of the battle, however dreadful the result, could not be much longer delayed, jack knew. then it happened, coming like a flash of lightning from the storm cloud! chapter viii bombing the bridge "tom, we've done it!" jack shrieked, when he saw the enemy gotha plane take a sudden significant dip and flutter downward like a stricken bird. evidently a shot more fortunate than any that had preceded it had struck a vital part of the rival craft, putting the motor suddenly out of repair. when he felt his plane begin to crumple up under him the hun pilot had commenced to strive frantically to recover control. jack, horror-stricken by what was happening, leaned over and watched his struggle, which he knew was well nigh hopeless from the beginning. still the german ace made a valiant effort to avoid his fate. he could be seen working madly to keep from overturning, but apparently his hour had struck, for the last jack saw of the beaten gotha it was turning topsy-turvy, falling like a shooting star attracted to the earth by the law of gravitation. that affair being over, jack, breathing hard, now allowed himself to pay some attention to what was going on in other quarters. at the same time he proceeded to introduce a fresh belt of cartridges into the hungry maw of the machine gun, in case they were forced into another engagement. above them the battle still raged, though of course jack could not decide which side might be getting the better of it. his interest focused chiefly on the bombing machines, which he found were now far away, moving along in erratic courses as their pilots strove to get in exact position for a successful blowing up of the bridge. jack could count only three of them. unless the fourth had wandered far afield it looked as though disaster had overtaken its crew. no matter, even such a catastrophe must not deter those remaining from seeking by every means in their power to reach their objective. even as he stared downward jack saw another of those brilliant flashes that proclaimed the bursting of a bomb. he felt a sense of chagrin steal over him, because so far no explosive seemed to have succeeded in attaining the great end sought. the bridge still stood intact, if deserted, for he could catch glimpses of it when the smoke clouds were drifted aside by the night breeze. fires were now burning in several quarters, started undoubtedly by some of the bombs that had missed their intended objective. these lighted up the scene and gave it a weird, almost terrifying aspect as witnessed from far above. all at once jack saw some bulky object pass between their machine and the ground below. it must be the missing bomber, he concluded, though the realization of the fact made him thrill all over in admiration of the nerve of those who could accept such terrible chances. yes, despairing of getting in a telling blow at such a height, the reckless crew of the big yankee plane had actually dropped down until they could not be more than a thousand feet from the earth. and now they were speeding forward, meaning to test their skill at such close quarters. not being able to make tom hear his voice, jack gave the other a tug, and so managed to call his attention to what was passing below. just in time did tom look, for at that very moment there came another of those amazing brilliant illuminations, and the dull roar greeted their ears a few seconds afterwards. they saw with staring eyes the air filled with the material that had once constituted the wonderful bridge, across which day and night the retreating huns were taking their valuable guns and stores. a brief space of time did the scene bear the aspect of chaos, and then, when the smoke cleared sufficiently for them to see, they looked upon a void where the bridge had stood. jack fell back appalled, yet quivering with deepest satisfaction. their raid would be one of triumph, since the main object had now been achieved. hardly had he allowed himself to exult after this fashion than jack discovered that tom seemed to be greatly agitated. so he once more looked down, filled with a sudden fear lest the gallant fighters in that adventurous bomber had paid dearly for their success. he immediately saw that his alarm was not groundless. the big yankee plane must have been struck in some vital part, for it was rapidly sinking as though doomed. jack's only consolation lay in the fact that the crew seemed to be in better luck than those of the stricken gotha; for they managed to keep from turning turtle; and unless striking the ground with too great violence might yet come out of the affair alive, even though finding themselves prisoners of war. tom was already striking for the upper levels. he saw that the other three bombers had also commenced to climb, since their mission was now carried out, and further risks would be only a needless hazard. then, too, the crews of the battle gothas, realizing that they had failed to save the bridge, concluded to withdraw from the combat, leaving the americans to make their way back to their starting point, victorious and rejoicing. yes, there was the signal flashing from the plane of the commander, which meant that the raiding squadron should assemble above the reach of the crackling shrapnel, and prepare in a body for the homeward journey. a sense of exultation, mingled with sincere thankfulness, gripped the hearts of the two air service boys as they realized that the peril was now really a thing of the past. the homeward trip would be a mere bagatelle, for surely no huns would venture to attack them while on the way. by exercising good judgment they ought also to keep above the reach of those elevated anti-aircraft guns along the front hills. now jack remembered the temporary blinding sensation. he found on investigating that he had been near a serious accident, since a passing bullet had grazed his head, cutting the skin and causing quite a copious flow of blood. "what's happened to you?" called out the alarmed tom, on seeing that the other was binding his handkerchief about his head. "another scratch, that's all," replied jack, as though that were only a matter of course, to be expected when modern knights of the upper air currents sallied forth bent on adventure. "a miss is as good as a mile, you know, tom. and i guess i have a hard head in the bargain. it's all right, nothing to worry over. fortunately it didn't strike me in the face, and mar my beauty any." jack could joke under almost any serious conditions; but tom felt relieved to know the worst. they were at the time back again in their appointed place, tailing the procession. counting again as best he could, jack discovered that there were only seven of the battleplanes in the double line now. it looked very much as though the loss of the big bomber was not the only penalty they had paid for their daring raid. but no doubt the story would all be told after the flight was over and the various pilots and observers could get together to compare notes. again were they subjected to a bombardment when they sailed over the german front lines; but this time, taking a lesson from their previous experience, they maintained such an altitude that no shrapnel was able to reach them. shortly afterward, and one by one, the battered yankee planes dropped on the open field where the hangars lay, like huge buzzards alighting to satisfy their hunger in an orgy. the first thing tom did when he and jack found themselves again on their feet and the waiting mechanics and hostlers looking after their plane, was to reach out and seize upon his chum's hand. "we've got good reason to congratulate ourselves on coming through that nasty business so well, jack," he said earnestly. "if you look at our machine you'll see how near we came a dozen times to cashing in our checks. they knocked us up pretty well, for a fact." "i should say they did," admitted jack, as he examined the various marks showing where the hun bullets had punctured different parts of the wings, or struck the fuselage, narrowly missing both the motor and the partly protected petrol supply tank. they lingered around for a full hour, there was so much to talk about as they gathered in groups and compared experiences, as well as commented on the possible fate of their fellow aviators who had failed to return. in spite of the loss incurred, the achievement accomplished was of such a character as to fill them with pardonable pride. no member of that historical night raid, whereby the retreat of the germans was so badly handicapped by the loss of the big bridge, would ever have cause to blush for his part in the bold undertaking. finally the two chums, finding themselves exhausted and in need of sleep, broke away from the chattering throng and sought their bunks in the former hun dugout. all was now silence around them, the enemy batteries having ceased sending over even occasional shells; and they were able to enjoy a few hours of rest undisturbed by having the roof of their shelter damaged by a chance explosion. on the following morning the advance was resumed, the same tactics being employed that had met with such success all through the argonne. wherever they discovered that machine-gun nests had been placed these were "mopped-up" by surrounding them, and then attacking from the rear, while the attention of the defenders of the stone house, or it might be a windmill foundation, was gripped by a pretense at frontal assault. those who had participated in the air raid on the bridge were given a day off, so as to recuperate. they felt that they deserved it, for the destruction of that bridge was apt to be a serious stumbling-block in the path of the retreating huns, one that might cost them dearly in the way of prisoners and lost artillery. jack utilized this opportunity by striving to learn important facts in connection with the matter that was weighing so heavily on his mind. he absented himself from the dugout which the air pilots continued to occupy and which they disliked giving up until assured of some other half-way decent billet in a village that might be abandoned by fritz when falling back. of course jack had to have his slight wounds attended to, and in order to make sure that he had not neglected this before going off, tom, during the morning, found it absolutely necessary to wander over to the field hospital, where of course he looked up nellie. really it took almost a full hour for him to make all the inquiries he considered essential; and he might have consumed a still longer time but that there was a call for the nurse's services, and she had to excuse herself. "never mind," said tom grimly to himself, as he made his way back to the old dugout, "it was well worth the walk. and nellie is looking fine, for a fact. they call her the most popular nurse at the front, and i've heard fellows in plenty say that if ever they got knocked out by hun bullets they'd want nothing better than to have her take care of them." he did not find jack anywhere around when he got back, nor had those he asked seen anything of him since early morning. of course tom knew what it was that engaged the attention of his comrade, and he only hoped jack might not meet with any bad luck in his endeavor to learn something of the movements of his cousin, randolph carringford. then came the afternoon. from indications tom fancied that would be their last night in the old dugout. the huns were still falling back, and word had been going around that by another day the yankees would undoubtedly occupy the village that lay just beyond the hills where the bursting shrapnel had ascended on the occasion of the passage of the air squadron. it was about four o'clock when tom sighted his chum. jack's face was gloomy, and he lacked his customary sprightliness of walk. as he came up he tried to smile, but it was a rank failure. "well," he said disconsolately, "the very worst has happened, tom. i've managed to get word after trying for hours, and have learned that my cousin sailed yesterday from havre. he's beat me to it, and i've lost out!" chapter ix convincing proof "are you sure about that?" asked tom, though at the same time realizing that jack was not the one to give in easily, and must have used every avenue for gaining information before reaching this condition of certainty. "there's not the slightest reason to doubt it, i tell you, tom," jack replied slowly, shaking his head at the same time to emphasize his sorrowful feelings in the matter. "i asked particularly, and the word came that a passenger named randolph carringford had sailed yesterday on the _la bretagne_ for new york." "then that point seems settled," admitted tom, though disliking to acknowledge the fact. "still, something might happen to prevent his reaching new york city, or virginia." "what could stop him, since i'm utterly powerless to do anything?" asked jack, still unconvinced. "well," continued the would-be comforter, "vessels have started out before this and never arrived at their destination. take the _lusitania_ for instance. more than ever are the hun submersibles on the job these critical days, for their commanders know they've almost got to their last gasp." "no such luck for me, i'm afraid, tom," sighed the other, quickly adding: "and for that matter i wouldn't want to profit at the expense of the lives of others. so i hope the french boat gets safely past the closed zone, no matter what it costs me personally. but it galls me to feel how helpless i am. if my hands were tied this minute i couldn't be worse off." "are you sure cabling would do no good, if we could manage to send an urgent message?" "nothing will do except my presence there in person before randolph can present himself, thanks to our uncle's foolish will that puts a premium on rascality. yes, it's a bitter pill i have to swallow. i'd do anything under the sun if only i could hope to beat that scheming cousin out! but it's useless; so i'll just have to grin and bear it." "i wish i had any suggestion to offer," remarked tom; "but to tell the truth i don't see what you can do but wait and see what happens. we've got our applications for leave in, and some influential friends pulling wires to help us through. something may turn up at the last minute." "it's mighty fine of you to say that, though i know you're only trying to keep me from discouragement." "see who's coming, will you?" suddenly ejaculated tom. even before he looked the other could give a shrewd guess as to the identity of the person approaching, for tom seemed unduly pleased. "it's nellie, as sure as anything," muttered jack. "i wonder what's brought her over here. you don't imagine anything could have happened to bessie or mrs. gleason--the huns haven't been trying to bomb any 'y' huts or hospitals lately, have they, tom?" "not that i've heard," came the ready answer. "and besides, i had the pleasure of chatting with nellie for a whole hour this morning. you see i got a bit anxious about you; was afraid you'd neglected to step over and get those cuts attended to as you'd promised; so to make sure i wandered across." "of course you did!" jeered jack. "and if that excuse hadn't held water there were plenty more shots in the locker! but never mind; here's nellie hurrying toward us. doesn't she look rather serious, tom?" "we'll soon know what's in the wind," was the answer, as the pretty red cross nurse hastened to join the two boys. "you didn't expect to see me again so soon, i imagine, tom," she said as she came up, trying to catch her breath at the same time, for she had evidently hurried. "no, i must say i didn't dream i'd have that pleasure, nellie," replied the air pilot, as he took her hand in his and squeezed it. "but something unusual must have brought you all the way over here, i imagine." "well, it was, tom," she told him. "it isn't safe either," continued tom, "for you to be abroad. the huns are likely to begin long range shelling any minute, and the road's a favorite target for their gunners; they've got it's range down fine." "it isn't about bessie, i hope?" ventured jack, still more or less apprehensive. nellie looked at him and slightly smiled, for she knew jack was exceedingly fond of the young girl. "bessie is perfectly well," she assured him; "and when i passed the y hut she and her mother were helping some of the salvation army girls make a fresh heap of doughnuts. but my coming does concern you, jack." "please explain what you mean by that?" he begged her, while his face lighted up with interest, showing that for the moment his troubles, lately bearing so heavily upon him, were forgotten. "i will, and in as few words as possible," she answered, "for my time is limited. i left several cases to be cared for by a nurse who has not had as thorough a training as she might have had, and the responsibility lies with me. but i can give you five minutes before i start back again." needless to say nellie by this time had both boys fairly agog with curiosity, for neither of them could give the slightest guess as to the nature of the news she was bringing. "you see, they were bringing in a lot of fresh cases," she explained, "for there has been some furious fighting going on this morning, as our boys drove in to chase the huns out of the village. among the number of wounded, one man among others fell into my care. his name is bertrand hale, and i think both of you know him." tom and jack exchanged looks. "we have met him many times," said the former; "but i can't say that he has ever been a friend of ours. he's rather a wild harum-scarum sort of chap--i imagine his own worst enemy, for he drinks heavily when he can get it, and spends much of the time in the guard-house. still, they say he's a fighter, every inch of him, and has done some things worth mentioning." "i imagine you describe him exactly, tom," nellie told him. "very well, this time he's in a pretty bad way, for he has a number of serious injuries, and, besides has lost his left arm, though it's possible he may pull through if his constitution hasn't been weakened too much through dissipation." "but what about bertrand hale, nellie? did he tell you anything that would be of interest to us?" asked tom. "i can see that you're beginning to suspect already, tom," she continued. "for that is exactly what happened. he kept following me with his eyes as i moved around doing my work, after taking care of him. then he beckoned to me, and asked whether i wasn't a particular friend of jack parmly and tom raymond. "of course i assured him it was so, and with that he looked so very eager that i knew he had a secret to tell me. this is the gist of what he said, boys. just four days ago he was approached by a man he didn't know, who managed to get some strong drink into his hands, and after hale had indulged more than he ought made a brazen proposition to him. "it was to the effect that he was willing to pay a certain sum to have you boys injured so that you would be laid up in the hospital for weeks. he had gained the promise first of all that bertrand would never say a word about what he meant to tell him. "although he admitted that his mind was hardly clear at the time, still bertrand assured me he had repelled the offer with indignation, and even threatened to beat up his tempter unless he took himself off. the man hurried away, and then in the excitement of the order for his battalion to go over the top, bertrand hale forgot all about it. "from that time on it was nothing but fighting and sleeping for him, so he had no time even to think of warning you. then he got into the mess this morning that finished him. with that arm gone he's done with fighting, he knows, even if he pulls through. "it was the sight of me that made him remember, for he said he surely had seen me with one of you boys several times. and so he confessed, begging me to get word to you, so that if the unknown schemer did find a tool to carry out his evil plots you would be on your guard. "i could not wait after hearing that, but came as fast as i could, fearing you might have set out again and that something would go wrong with your plane. that is the story simply told, tom. can you guess why any one should wish to do either of you such a wrong as that?" "what you tell us, nellie," said tom soberly, "clears up one mystery we've been puzzling over." then he rapidly sketched what they had discovered on the preceding night, when they had arrived at the hangar prepared to go forth with the raiders, only to learn that some unknown person had been meddling with their plane. "so it looks as if bertrand's refusal to play the dirty game didn't prevent that man from finding some one who was willing to sell his soul for money," was the way tom wound up his short story. nellie was appalled. her pretty face took on an expression of deepest anxiety, showing how much she cared should ill-fortune attend these good friends of hers. "how can such wickedness exist when war had made so many heroes among our boys?" she mourned. "but you must be doubly on your guard, both of you. tell me, can you guess why this unknown person should want to injure you?" "simply to keep me from setting out for america," said jack bitterly. "let me describe my cousin randolph to you, nellie; and then tell me if what bertrand said about the unknown man would correspond to his looks." after she had heard his accurate description nellie nodded her head. "he saw very little of his face, so he said. bertrand only said the other was a man of medium build, with a soft voice that made him think of silk and then too he had a trick of making gestures with his left hand, just as you've said your cousin does. yes, something tells me your guess is close to the mark; but he must be a very wicked man to attempt such a dreadful thing." "worse than i ever thought," admitted jack grimly. "but after all nothing came of his lovely scheme; nor did it matter, since he's given me the slip, and is right now almost a third of the way across the sea. i'm like a race-horse left at the post." "whatever you do, jack, don't lose the fine courage that has been your mainstay through other troubles," nellie said, as she laid a hand on his arm and looked steadfastly into the young air-pilot's face. "thank you, nellie, for your confidence in me," he continued, showing some of his old spirit again. "i ought to be ashamed to give in so easily. yes, tom and i have been in plenty of bad scrapes, and pulled out just because we set our teeth and refused to admit we were down and out. so i'm going to try the same dodge in this case, and not acknowledge defeat until the ninth inning is through, and the last man down." "good-bye, both of you, and remember, no matter what comes some of us are always thinking of you and praying for your safety." with these words, long remembered by both boys, nellie gave each of them her hand, and hurried away before they could see how her eyes dimmed with the gathering mists. "a brave girl," said tom, with considerable vigor, as he tenderly watched her retreating figure and waved his hand when he saw her turn to blow a farewell kiss in their direction. "yes," said jack, heaving a sigh. "she and bessie seem to be our good angels in this bad mess of war, tom. i feel better after hearing her words of encouragement; but all the same i'm still groping in the dark. how am i going to beat randolph across the atlantic? for once i wish i had wings, and might fly across the sea like a bird. how quickly i'd make the start." chapter x groping for light tom realized that for once his chum was completely broken up, and hardly knew which way to turn for help. this told him that if anything were done to relieve the desperate situation it would have to originate with him. "stick to your programme, jack, and don't give up the ship. until you know that randolph has reached the other side, and entered into possession of the property, there's still some hope left." "yes, a fighting chance. and i must hang to it like a leech," admitted the other, trying to smile, but making a sorry mess of it. "how do we know what the good fairy may do for you, so as to outwit the villain of the piece?" continued tom. "while it isn't a pleasant thing to speak of, still some marauding undersea boat may lie in wait for his ship, and in the sinking who can tell what fate may overtake your cousin?" "it would only serve him right if he did go down like others, a thousand times nobler than randolph, have done before now," grumbled jack; and somehow the vague possibility excited him, for his eyes began to sparkle and take on a look that told tom he was seeing the whole thing before his mental vision. for a purpose tom chose to encourage this supposition; it would have the effect of building up jack's sinking hopes, and just then that was the main thing. so tom proceeded to picture the scene, having plenty of material from which to draw, for he had read the details of more than one submarine sinking. "it must be a terrible sensation to any passenger, no matter how brave he may think himself," he went on to say, "when he feels the shock as a torpedo explodes against the hull of the steamer and knows that in a short time she is doomed to be swallowed by the sea. and you told me once yourself, jack, that this scheming cousin of yours couldn't swim a stroke." "worse even than that!" declared jack, with a sneer on his face to express his contempt, "he's a regular coward about the water. and if they do have the hard luck to run up against a hun torpedo, randolph will be frightened half to death." "queer," commented tom, "how most of these schemers prove to have a yellow streak in their make-up, when the test really comes. just picture him running screaming up and down the deck, and being kicked out of the way by every officer of the vessel when he implores them to save him." "i can see it all as plain as day!" cried jack excitedly. "and if i know human nature the chances are those sailors would think of the coward last of all." "yes, they'd leave him to the sinking ship if there was no room in the boats, you can depend on that, jack. and now set your teeth as you usually do, and tell me again that you're not going to own up beaten until the umpire says the game is over." "i do promise you, tom," came the immediate response, showing that jack was getting a fresh grip on his sinking courage and hopes. "but all the same, i keep on groping, and i'd like to see the light." "for a change of subject," tom observed, "shall we tell lieutenant beverly about your troubles? i've just glimpsed him coming this way." "no reason why we shouldn't," agreed jack. "he's a good friend of mine and three heads might be better than two in cracking this hard nut i'm up against. but he looks as if he might be bringing us news. ten to one he's going to say the way is cleared for us to take that long trip with him to berlin and back in his big martin bomber." "too bad to disappoint him," remarked tom. "but of course that's out of the question now." "i'd have been glad of the chance to go, only for this sudden complication in my own affairs," jack sighed. "but why couldn't you take the spin in his company, tom? it's a pity to break up his plans." "and desert my chum when he's in trouble? i'd never forgive myself for doing such a thing. the lieutenant will have to find some other pals for his record making berlin and back flight." jack thought he detected a vein of regret in his comrade's voice, and he quickly flashed: "you're disappointed, of course, tom; you've been counting on that trip all the while, because its daring and dash appealed to you, just as they did to me." "forget it, please," urged tom sturdily. "it was only a dream, and, after all, perhaps it couldn't be carried out. for all we know it may be the best thing in the world for us that we're prevented from starting; for such a long flight is a great risk, and might end our careers." "well, here's the lieutenant," said jack, turning to greet the newcomer, and striving to look natural, though it cost him a great effort. "i've hurried here as fast as i could!" exclaimed beverly, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. "i wanted to bring the good news before you received it officially." "what's that?" demanded jack, turning a puzzled look toward his chum. "why, when they notified me i could have three weeks' leave of absence from duty, with no question concerning my movements during the interim, i chanced to learn that your request had also been granted. both of you will be free, don't you understand? and the big game is now open to us." "well, that's certainly good news you've brought us, lieutenant beverly," said tom, accepting the other's extended hand which was offered in congratulation. "i suppose you're counting now on getting that long flight off your mind? i regret to tell you i fear it's hull down in the distance for the two of us!" "what! you haven't flunked, tom? i'd never believe either of you could go back on me like that," cried the other, looking sorely distressed and bitterly disappointed. "circumstances over which we have no control," continued tom, while jack hung his head and looked gloomy, "have arisen to knock our plans galley-west. much as we'd be pleased to make the game, we simply can't do it." "but the bomber is all ready and waiting!" gasped lieutenant beverly. "and we're having a vacation extended to us, with no red tape or strings tied to the conditions! why, the track is cleared for the biggest flight on record, and now you tell me you'll have to drop out. see here, what's this mean? there's something queer about it all, i know." "just what there is, lieutenant," remarked jack, looking him squarely in the eye, "and it's only right you should know the reason. tom might go along with you, but he absolutely refuses to leave me alone to fight against the slickest scoundrel living. now listen, and i'll sketch the whole story for you." this he proceeded to do rapidly, omitting nothing that seemed of moment. when the meddler's secret work in tampering with their plane before they went up on the night raid was mentioned, the flight lieutenant's eyes flashed with indignation. being a pilot himself he could appreciate such rank treachery better than any layman could. "that's how the land lies," said jack in conclusion. "and you understand now just why we must disappoint you, and make you look elsewhere for two companions on your trip to berlin to frighten the huns. it breaks my heart to decline, but this other matter must take my whole attention." "you don't blame jack, do you?" asked tom. "i should say not!" came the ready answer, accompanied by a keen look, first at jack and then at the other, as a dazzling idea suddenly flashed into beverly's mind. "business before pleasure, every time with me; and it's only right you should devote every atom of your mind and body to beating that skunk to the post." "we've settled on that policy all right," said jack. "the only trouble is we haven't so far found a remedy to overcome his long lead; for he's got almost two days' run head of me, you understand." tom saw the lieutenant smile broadly and draw a long breath. then something seemed to grip his heart as he heard beverly say: "hold on! i've got an inspiration, boys. perhaps there may be a way open to beat him to it yet!" chapter xi the amazing plan "tell us what you mean, please?" begged the excited jack. "take things coolly, to begin with," warned the other; "because what i'm going to say will almost stun you at first, i suppose. but it's no new idea with me. fact is, i'd planned it all out in my mind long ago; had it more than half arranged at the time i ordered that monster martin bomber built at my own expense and shipped over to france." "yes," muttered jack, while he kept his eyes glued hungrily on the flushed face of the other. tom said nothing, but looked as though he already half guessed what was coming, if the eager and expectant gleam in his eyes signified anything. "i explained to you," the lieutenant continued steadily, "that the big bomber was equipped for a trip to berlin and back; and went so far as to say the flight could be _repeated without making a landing_, if there was any need of such a thing. all right, then; in a pinch, properly loaded with plenty of gasoline and stores, that machine would be able to take three fellows like you two and myself all the way across the atlantic, and land us on american soil! get that, do you, jack?" no one said a word for half a minute. the proposition was so astounding that it might well have appalled the stoutest heart. at that time no one had attempted to cross the atlantic in a heavier-than-air plane, a feat later on successfully accomplished. nobody had piloted the way in a yankee-made seaplane; nor had any one navigated the air passage in a monster dirigible. the three thousand miles of atmosphere lying between europe and america still stood an uncharted sea of vapor, where every imaginable evil might lie in wait for the modern columbus of aerial navigation. then jack drew a long breath. the lieutenant was watching the play of emotion across his face, and he knew the seed had been sown in good ground, where it was bound to take root. jack's extremity would be his, lieutenant beverly's, opportunity. so he returned to the attack, meaning to "strike while the iron was hot." "it staggers you at first, of course, jack," he said, in his confident, convincing way. "but why should it? the danger is great, but nothing more than we're up against every day we set out for the clouds to give battle to a tricky hun ace, who may send us down to our death. and i assure you we'd have at least a fighting chance to get across. what do you say, jack?" for answer the other whirled on his chum. his face was lighted up with that sudden and unexpected renewal of hope, just when it had seemed as though he had fallen into the pit of despair. "tom, would it be madness, do you think?" he cried, clutching the other by the arm, his fingers trembling, his eyes beseeching. "we'd have a fair chance of making it, just as colin says," tom slowly answered. "much would of course depend on contrary winds; and there'd be fighting in the fog banks we'd surely strike. but jack,--" "yes, tom?" gasped the other, hanging on his chum's words eagerly, as one might to the timbers of a slender bridge that offered a slim chance to reach a longed-for harbor. "if you decide to accept the venture i'm with you!" finished tom. at that the eager flight lieutenant showed the utmost enthusiasm. "call it settled then, jack, so we can get busy working out the programme!" he begged, again insisting upon gripping a hand of each. jack found himself carried along with the current. he could not well have resisted had he so desired, which was far from being the case. it seemed to him as though he were on a vessel which had drifted for hours in the baffling fog, and then all of a sudden the veil of mist parted, to show him the friendly shore beyond, just the haven for which he was bound. "it is, perhaps, a desperate attempt to make such a flight on short notice," jack said. "but think! if we succeed! and think, too, of that schemer winning the prize! yes, tom, since you've already agreed to stand in with me, i say--_go_!" after that a fever seemed to burn in jack's veins, due to the sudden revulsion of feeling from despair to hope. he asked many questions, and for an hour the three talked the matter over, looking at the possibilities from every conceivable angle. tom was not so sanguine of success as either of his mates; but he kept his doubts to himself. as an ambitious airman he was thrilled by the vastness of the scheme. as lieutenant beverly had truly remarked, while it held chances of disaster, they were accepting just as many challenges to meet their death every day of their service as battleplane pilots. then again it seemed to be the only hope offered to poor jack; and tom was bound to stick by his chum through thick and thin. so he fell in with the great scheme, and listened while the flight lieutenant touched upon every feature of the contemplated flight. luckily it was no new idea with him, for he had spent much time and labor in figuring it all out to a fraction, barring hazards of which they could of course know nothing until they were met. "i've got all the charts necessary," he assured them, after they had about exhausted the subject, with jack more enthusiastic than ever. "and while you boys are waiting to receive your official notifications, which ought surely to come to-morrow, since there was a hurry mark on them, i noticed, i'll rush over to the coast and see that additional supplies of fuel and food are put aboard." "don't stint the gas, above everything," urged jack. "we'd be in a pretty pickle to run out while still five hundred miles from shore. if it was only a big seaplane now, such as we hear they're building over in america, we might drop down on a smooth sea and wait to be picked up by some ship; but with a bomber, it would mean going under in a hurry." "make your mind easy on that score, jack," came the lieutenant's reply. "i'll figure to the limit, and then if the plane can carry another fifty gallons it'll go aboard in the reserve reservoir. i'm taking no chances that can be avoided. there'll be enough to bother us, most likely. and, for one, i'm not calculating on committing suicide. i hope to live to come back here aboard some ship, and see the finish of this big, exciting scrap." tom liked to hear him talk in that serene way. it showed that lieutenant colin beverly, while a daring aviator was not to be reckoned a reckless one; and there is a vast difference between the two. tom was of very much the same temperament himself, as was proved in past stirring incidents in his career, known to all those who have followed the fortunes of the air service boys in previous books of this series. "is there anything else to confer about?" asked tom. "because i can see you're itching to get away, colin." "not a thing, as far as i know," came the reply. "if any fresh idea happens to strike me i'll have it on tap when you arrive. are you sure you've got the directions how to get to dunkirk, and then how to find my secret hangar on the coast beyond the town, tom?" "we'll be ready to skip out just as soon as our official notice comes to hand," the other assured him. "that's the only thing bothering me just now," observed jack. "any delay there might ruin our plans at the last minute. as it is, we're not apt to have any too much time to beat the steamer to new york." "i expect you to show up to-morrow night, and then we can slip away unnoticed in the dark," said the lieutenant. "i've kept tabs on the weather conditions, as it's always been a fad with me; and i'm happy to say there seems to be no storm in prospect, while the winds are apt to be favorable, coming from the east, a rare thing these fall days. so-long, boys, and here's success to our jolly little flight!" after he had left them jack turned on his comrade to say: "it seems to be our only chance, and not a long one at that; but i'm bent on trying it out. anything to beat randolph to the tape, tom!" chapter xii gripped in suspense from that hour on jack continued in a fever of suspense. his one thought was of the coming of the official notification connected with their hoped-for leave. tom fancied that his chum did not get much sleep on the following night, the last both of them hoped they would have to spend in the dugout used as a billet back of the american front. so another day found them. jack took special delight in casting up figures connected with the case. these he would show to his chum, and make various comments. tom, realizing how the other was endeavoring to suck consolation from this proceeding, encouraged him in it. "by to-night," jack said, more than once, "it will be three whole days since the steamer sailed from havre. i've tried to find out how fast she is, and then figured that they'd have to slow down when passing through the barred zone. i reckon it will take her eight or nine days to get across." "oh, all of that," tom assured him; "and it might be as many as twelve. you see, the few passenger steamers still in use haven't been in dry dock for the longest time, and their hulls must be covered with barnacles, which cuts off considerable from their speed." jack gave him a thankful look. "you're the best sort of jollier, tom," he observed. "you know how to talk to a fellow who's quivering all over with eagerness and dread. what if something happens to hold up those notices until it's too late for even colin's big bomber to catch up with the steamer?" "you're only borrowing trouble when you allow yourself to fear that," was the reply. "but all the same, i mean to do everything i can to get things hurried along. i'll see the general, and with your permission explain to him that there's great need of our getting word to-day." "but, surely, you wouldn't dare hint anything about the big trip we want to take, tom?" asked jack, looking alarmed. "i should say not!" came the immediate response. "if we did that, the general would consider it his duty to put his foot down on the mad scheme right away. trust me to let him know we stand to lose out in something that concerns your whole future if the notifications are delayed beyond early this afternoon, and i'm sure he'll start the wires going to get them here." "what can i be doing in the meanwhile?" "you might see to making arrangements for crossing to the coast on the first train that goes out," answered tom. "but that's going to be slow traveling, even if we're lucky enough to get aboard," protested the other. "tom, do you think the general would permit us to take our machine, and fly to dunkirk?" "good! that's a clever idea you've hit on, jack!" exclaimed the other. "i'll take it up with the general when i see him. he might find it _convenient_, you know, to have some message sent across the country to the coast; and it would save us hours of time, perhaps win the race for us. a splendid thought, jack!" "then let's hope it can be carried through," returned the other. tom did not lose any more time but hurried away to try to get an opportunity to talk with the kindly old general. he had always shown an interest in the fortunes of the two air service boys, and they had already received favors from him on several occasions. the minutes dragged while he was gone. jack could not keep still, so nervous did he feel, but continued walking up and down, "like a tiger in its cage," he told himself. he ran through the entire gamut of possible troubles and triumphs in his mind, as he tried to picture the whole thing. "what great luck to have colin beverly break in on us just at the time when my fortunes had reached their lowest ebb," jack kept saying to himself. at last tom came back. jack could read success in his looks, even before the other had had a chance to open his mouth and say a single word. "it's all right then, i take it, tom?" he exclaimed impulsively. "didn't have any trouble at all in interesting the general," replied the messenger joyfully. "he said he'd see to having an urgent call go out to hurry the notifications along, and almost promised they'd get here by two this afternoon." "and how about the plane business?" "that's all settled in the bargain. i have written permission to make use of our plane, turning it over to a certain agent in dunkirk after we've arrived there. the general will send a message over to us which we're to deliver at the same time we give up the machine." "great work, tom! i've always said you'd make a mighty fine diplomatic agent, if ever you tried, and now i know it." "no soft-soap business, please. if it had been anybody but the general i'd have surely fallen down on my job. but you know he's always had an interest in us, jack." "do you think he suspected anything?" asked the other. "sure he did, but not _the_ thing, for nobody in the wide world would ever dream we were planning such an unheard of thing as a non-stop flight across the atlantic." tom dropped his voice to a whisper when he said this; not that there seemed to be any particular need of caution, but simply on general principles. they could not afford to take any chance of having their great plan discovered in these early stages of the game. "well, i don't know how i'm going to hold out much longer," complained jack. "i can't keep still five minutes, but have to jump up and walk it off. let's see--two o'clock you said, didn't you? that'll be nearly three long hours more. it's simply terrible, tom! sixty minutes in each hour!" "but then we'll have to eat our regular midday meal, remember," tom tried to cheer his companion up by saying. "if you prefer it, we might walk over to the field-hospital, which, by the way, i hear is to be moved ahead to-night, to keep in closer touch with the wounded straggling back from the front. the y hut's close by, too, and we'd enjoy an hour or so with the girls. nellie told me she expected her brother, harry, to be back on our sector any day now, and if he should come before we clear out we'd be mighty glad to see him." jack hesitated. "gee! you do tempt a fellow, tom," he finally remarked, as though coming to a conclusion. "nothing i'd like better than to chat with bessie and have a few of those salvation army girls' doughnuts to munch. but i guess it would be foolish in our laying off just now." "you mean the notifications might arrive while we were gone?" remarked tom, nodding his head, pleased because the other took such a sensible view of the matter. "yes. we might lose a whole hour, perhaps two, by being away," explained jack. "that would be too bad; it might even turn out a catastrophe, if in the end that hour would save us from being beaten in the race against time." "all right, then, we'll hang around and watch for something to come from headquarters. the general promised me he'd have the notifications sent over without any delay just as soon as they came." "let's go over to the flying field and watch some of the boys come in," suggested jack, and to this the other readily assented. even when an airman is off-duty his special delight lies in "hanging out" at the aviation field, seeing his fellow workers go forth, watching their return, and listening to the many thrilling accounts of battles fought, as well as perils endured. the fascination of the sport, once it has fairly gripped a man, makes him its slave; he can think of little else; and doubtless even in dreams he fancies himself performing unusual hazards and earning the applause of the multitude. however this proved to be a very good panacea for jack's nervousness and they managed to put in a full hour there. business was unusually brisk in the way of engagements; and tom more than once secretly regretted that circumstances beyond their control caused them to miss a "whole lot of fun." the enemy was up in the air in more ways than one on that day. desperation on account of the blowing up of the bridge caused the german plane scouts to meet the challenges offered by the exultant yankees, and news of many an encounter kept coming in about the time the two boys thought of leaving the field and going for their dinner. word had also been received of several accidents to american pilots, and it looked as though the history of that eventful day would set a new high-water mark in the way of losses. jack even began to fear they might be ordered to go up, which would bring about a fresh delay while communication was being established with headquarters to verify their story. so he was really glad when tom drew him away by suggesting that it was time they dined. at one o'clock they were at their headquarters, killing time and waiting. jack's nerves once more began showing signs of being frayed, or "ragged," as he called it. he jumped at the least unusual sound, and alternately looked expectant and despairing. it was now close to two o'clock, and as yet there was no sign of relief. jack jumped up for the twentieth time and started to walk back and forth, while others among the airmen were gathering their belongings together, preparatory to a change of base. then a messenger was seen hurrying toward them. jack became almost wild with excitement, until he knew for a fact the notifications had arrived. "and now," said tom, "let's put for the field and get away without any further loss of time. it's a long way to dunkirk, remember, even by way of the air line, as a bee would take it. and we must get there before dark!" they ran part of the way, and thus presented themselves before the hangar. ample preparations had already been made. the petrol tank had been filled, and, everything being in readiness, they would have nothing to do but jump aboard and make a quick start. but tom was too old a pilot to take things for granted. after that recent experience with treachery he meant to be doubly careful before risking their lives in the air. dunkirk on the channel was a considerable distance off; and a drop when several thousand feet above french soil would go just as hard with them as if it were german territory. accordingly he took a survey of the plane from tip to tip of the wings; looked over the motor, tested every strut and stay, leaving nothing to jack, who was fairly quivering with the intensity of his feelings. even the longest day must come to an end, and tom's examination was finally completed. "get aboard!" he told jack. "we're in great trim to make a record flight of it. and even the breeze favors us, you notice." "let's hope it keeps on as it is," said jack, quickly; "because an easterly wind will help carry us on our way to-night!" "we'll be in luck to have such help," tom replied. "as a rule, the passage from europe to america meets with head winds most of the way. how are you fixed, jack?" "all ready here, tom." "half a minute more, and i'll be the same. take your last look for some time, jack, at the american fighting front. we'll never forget what we've met with here, and that's a fact." "but, tom, we expect to come back again, if all goes well," expostulated jack. "in fact, we've just got to, or be accused of running away. we arranged all that, you remember, and how we'd manage to get across in such a way that no one will be any the wiser for our having been out of france." "don't let's worry about that yet," said tom. "the first big job is to get across the atlantic. ready, back there? here goes!" another minute, and with a rush and a roar the plane sped along the field, took an upward slant, and set out for the coast. the first leg of the great flight had actually been started! chapter xiii off for the channel "tom, do you think that spy left behind by my cousin could have learned in any way about our plan?" they were passing over a section of northern france, keeping a mile and more above the surface of the earth, when jack called out in this fashion. talking is never easy aboard a working plane. the splutter of the motor, added to the noise caused by the spinning propellers, as well as the fact that as a rule pilot and observer keep well muffled up because of the chill in the rarified air, all combine to make it difficult. but jack was hard to repress. especially just then did he feel as if he must find some answer to certain doubts which were beginning to oppress him. "there's no way of telling," tom answered promptly. "we've already seen that the fellow is a clever, as well as desperate, rascal. he may be an american, though i'm rather inclined to believe your cousin has found a native better suited to his needs. and such a treacherous frenchman would prove a tricky and slippery sort. yes, he may have overheard us say something that would put him wise to our big game." "i hope not, i surely do," jack continued, looking serious again. "fact is, tom, i'll never feel easy until we see the ocean under us." at that tom laughed heartily. he even put a little extra vim into his merriment in the hope of raising his chum's drooping spirits. "that sounds mighty close to a joke, jack, for a fact," he said. "i'd like to know how you make that out?" demanded the other. "why, most people would be apt to say our troubles were likely to begin when we have cut loose from the land and see nothing below us as far as the eye can reach but the blue water of the atlantic." "all right," cried jack, showing no sign of changing his mind. "i'll willingly take chances with nature rather than the perfidy and treachery of mankind. somehow, i can't believe that we're really launched on the journey." "wake up then, old fellow, and shake yourself. you'll find we've made a pretty fair start. already we've put thirty miles behind us. unless we run up against some snag, and have engine trouble, we ought to get to the channel long before dark sets in." so jack relapsed into silence for a time. as he was not needed in order to run the motor or guide the plane in its progress westward, jack could amuse himself in using the powerful binoculars. they were at the time far removed from the earth, but through the wonderful lenses of the glasses objects became fairly distinct. so jack could see much to interest him as they sped onward. finally he again broke out with an exclamation. "nothing but the ruins of towns and villages down below, tom," he called. "the fighting has been fierce along this sector, i should say. why, even the woods have been smashed, and it looks like a regular desert. poor france, what you must have suffered at the hands of those savage huns." "yes," replied the pilot, over his shoulder, "here is where much of the most desperate fighting of the british took place. some of those ruined places were beautiful french towns only a few years ago, where laces and such things were made for most of the fashionable world. now they look about like the ruins of ninevah or babylon." fortune favored them during the next hour, and even jack's spirits had begun to improve. then came a check to the sanguine nature of the outlook. "sorry to tell you, jack," reported tom, after some uneasy movements, which the other had noticed with growing alarm, "that we'll have to make a landing. after all, it's not going to be a non-stop flight to the coast. only a little matter, but it should be looked after before it develops into serious trouble. i'm going to drop down to a lower level, where we can keep an eye out for a proper landing place." "but that means time lost!" "we can spare an hour if necessary, and still get to dunkirk by evening," tom replied cheerfully. "i was a bit suspicious of that very thing, and only for our desperate need of haste would have waited to start until it had been gone over again. but then i took chances, knowing it would, at the worst, mean only a stop for repairs. sorry, but it can't be helped." when the plane had reached a distance of a thousand feet above the earth, with jack eagerly looking for a favorable landing place, the latter had managed to recover from his depression. "i see what looks like a fine stretch, tom," he now announced. "notice that road looking as if it might be pitted with shell-holes? just on its right, where that single tree trunk stands, there's a field as level as a barn floor. circle around, and let's get closer to it." further examination convinced them that they had really run upon a suitable landing place. what pleased tom still more was the fact that so far there had been no evidence of human presence near by. this meant that they would not be bothered during the time required for overhauling the engine by curious spectators, who might even question their right to be flying away from the front. the landing was made in good style, and with only a few bumps, thanks to the smooth character of the field's surface. even jack was compelled to admit that though they had met with trouble, matters might be much worse. "we'll get busy now, and soon have things as fit as a fiddle," said tom, throwing off some of his superfluous garments so as to be free to work. by this time both boys had grown to be real experts in all sorts of mechanical repairing, as every airman must of necessity become before he can pass the acid test. unlike the driver of a car on country roads, when a break-down occurs he cannot step to a neighboring house, use the long distance or local telephone, and summon help. the airman is usually compelled to depend exclusively on his own ability to overcome the difficulty. to get at the seat of trouble necessitated considerable disarrangement of the motor's parts. this consumed more or less time, and the minutes passing were jealously given up by the impatient jack. but the boys worked fast, and finally all had been accomplished. tom tested the engine, and pronounced himself satisfied, while jack looked over the field ahead of them. "it's going to take us to dunkirk without any further trouble, i give you my word for it, jack," he said. "how long have we been here?" "just one hour, lacking three minutes," came the prompt reply. "then i'm safe," laughed tom; "for i said within the hour. come, pile aboard and we'll be off. sure you examined the ground ahead, and saw to it we'd hit no bumps that might give us trouble?" "it's all right there, tom; could hardly be better. but be sure you don't change from a straight course, because there's a nasty shell-hole, about ten feet deep, to the left. if we struck that--good-night!" "i notice you marked it with that pole, jack, and i'll swing clear, you can depend on that." they had no difficulty in making a successful ascent. once free from the ground, the plane's nose was again turned toward the southwest. tom had long before marked out his course, and kept an eye on the compass as well as on his little chart. he knew they were heading for the channel port as straight as the crow flies. the sun was getting far down in the western sky, and it was now necessary to shield their eyes when looking ahead, on account of the dazzling glare that at times threatened to blind them. the character of the country below had changed materially, jack told the pilot, who seldom had a chance to look through the glasses, since his entire attention was taken up with manipulating the engine, watching its rhythmical working, and keeping the plane pushing directly on its course. "heine didn't get a chance to ruin things here when he passed through, going to paris and to his smash on the marne," jack explained. "towns and villages look natural, as i see them, and they must have harvested crops in those brown fields. this is a bit of the real france, and entirely different from the horrible desert we've been at work in so long." the afternoon was wearing away. jack frequently stared eagerly off to the west, when the sun's glowing face was veiled for a brief time by some friendly cloud. several times he believed he could see something that looked like a stretch of water, but dared not voice his hopes. then came a time when a heavier cloud than usual masked the brightness of the declining sun. another long earnest look and jack burst out with a triumphant shout. "tom, i can see the channel, as sure as you're born!" was the burden of his announcement; and of course this caused the pilot to demand that he too be given a chance to glimpse the doubly welcome sight. there could not be any mistake about it. tom corroborated what jack had declared. it was undoubtedly the english channel they saw, showing that their journey from the american front had been successfully accomplished. "now for dunkirk!" jubilantly cried jack, looking as though he had thrown off the weight of dull care, and was once more light-hearted. "and by the same token, tom, unless i miss my guess, that may be the city we're heading for over yonder a little further to the south." "then i kept my course fairly well, you'll admit," the pilot shouted at him, naturally feeling conscious of a little pride over his achievement. rapidly they pushed on with a slight change of course. jack kept using the glasses and reported his observations to the busily engaged pilot. "it'll be dusk, likely, when we land," he observed at one time. "but that doesn't cut much figure, for we can easily find our way down to beverly's hangar on the coast. he said it was only a few miles from town, and they'll know at the aviation field, of course." "he gave us the name of a british officer who would post us," added tom. after a bit they were passing over the outskirts of dunkirk, and making for what appeared to be an aviation field, since they could see various hangars, and another plane was just settling ahead of them. ten minutes passed, and jack was delighted to find that they had made a successful landing. a number of french and british aviation men hastened to surround them, more than curious to know what strange chance had brought two yankee fliers to dunkirk. of course neither tom nor jack meant to afford them the least satisfaction. they had certain business to transact, and after that was off their hands the great adventure loomed beyond. accordingly, their first act was to find the man to whom they had been referred by lieutenant beverly. "we want to see major denning; can anybody direct us to him?" tom asked. "that happens to be my name," remarked a red-faced officer on the outskirts of the crowd and who had just arrived. "what can i do for you?" "lieutenant colin beverly of the american aviation corps referred us to you, major," said tom. "we have a message for you, after which we must deliver an official packet sent by our general to the command here and make arrangements to have our plane sent back to where we started from some hours ago, on the american fighting front." "i shall be pleased to give you any assistance in my power, gentlemen," said the british major, being apparently a very agreeable and accommodating man indeed, as beverly had informed them they would find him. stepping away from the crowd the air service boys delivered their message, which was really a sort of prearranged password. "lieutenant beverly is a cousin of mine, you know; which makes me more than anxious concerning him just now," went on major denning, after these formalities had been gone through with. "why so, major?" demanded tom, while jack looked worried. whereupon the red-faced major drew them still further to one side, and, lowering his heavy voice so as not to be overheard by others, went on to say: "i, as you know, know something about that wonderful big bomber he's had sent over, and how he means to give berlin a scare shortly. i've even had the privilege of looking the monster over, and feeling a thrill at picturing how it would give the huns a fright when it appeared over berlin. but you see its presence here is a secret, and known to but few of us." "glad to hear it, major," tom remarked. "but please explain why you are worried about beverly." "that is," continued the officer, "because an explosion was heard, coming from the south, just a short time ago. everybody believes it must be the airdrome sheltering the dirigible britain sent over here for use, and which lies further down the coast. but, much as i hate to say it, i fear something serious has happened to beverly's hangar; in fact that a bomb has destroyed it, or else some rank hun treachery has been at work there!" chapter xiv ready for the start "just our beastly luck!" gasped jack, turning white with apprehension. "wait, we haven't any proof as yet," advised tom. "the major himself admits that he's only afraid it may have been beverly's hangar. hasn't anything been done to learn the truth, sir?" "oh, yes," came the quick reply. "a number of cars have gone down that way, but the road's in a shocking condition, and up to now none of them has returned to advise us. i'd be very sorry if it turned out as i fear, doubly so if beverly himself were injured or killed, because i'm fond of the chap, don't you know." "let's hope everything is all right," said tom, as composedly as possible. "and first of all i'd like to get through the business part of our errand here. i have the packet to deliver for our general. then the machine must be turned over to a representative of our government here. after all that's attended to we'll strike out for the beverly hangar." "i'll be pleased to take you there personally, if you like," remarked major denning. "and we'll accept your offer with thanks, sir. it is very kind of you," said tom, at the same time wondering what the other would say when he made the astounding discovery that the object of the expedition was even more ambitious than a mere flight to berlin and back; that indeed the daring adventurers meant to attempt a record voyage across the atlantic by air such as would vie with that of columbus. jack fell into a fever of suspense again, and counted the minutes that must be consumed in carrying out the business in hand. tom was exceedingly scrupulous concerning this. "the general was kind enough to give us a good push on our way here," he told jack, when the latter continued to fret and hint about "cutting off corners" in order to hasten their getting away. "we're bound to do our part of the job right up to the handle. besides, what do ten or twenty minutes amount to?" when tom announced himself satisfied night had settled on the land. dunkirk had for long been annoyed by the fire of a long-range monster gun, shells dropping into the city at stated intervals for weeks at a time. so, too, hostile airplanes had hovered over the channel port, trying to make it unpleasant for the british tommies in camp near by. but since marshal foch opened operations on a large scale, together with the furious drive of general pershing's army, this had altogether ceased. major denning had a car at their disposal. "it will take us to a place where we can leave the road and follow a path to the beach," he told them. "beverly has quite a force of men there looking after things, which fact makes me hope nothing could have happened to injure or destroy that wonderful bomber. but we've been pestered to death with hun bounders playing spy, and i'd put nothing past them." they set out, and were soon on the way. major denning had a man at the wheel, evidently his chauffeur, for he was a british private. he knew the road, and managed to steer clear of the obstructions that continually cropped up. "seems to me those hun pilots must have dropped most of their bombs out this way, instead of hitting the town or the camps," tom suggested, as they dodged to and fro, and often suffered severe bouncings. "no man-power to make any road repairs, in the bargain," explained the officer. "since the drive has been on we are sending every british battalion we can muster forward. these things can wait until the german is licked, which we all believe is coming shortly, with marshall haig and general pershing and general petain on the job." "wow! what's that mean?" cried jack, half jumping up as the sound of several shots not far away came distinctly to their ears. "did those shots seem to be over yonder to the right?" asked the major. "so far as i was able to judge that's where they came from," tom replied. "does the hangar lie in that quarter, sir?" "just what it does! there's certainly something strange going on around there to-night. but we'll quickly learn for ourselves, because the spot where we leave the road is just ahead of us." jack was the first out; indeed the car had not wholly come to a stand before he made a flying jump. leaving the chauffeur to watch the car, the major soon found the trail. he carried a small hand electric torch with him, a vest-pocket size, but at least with a ray sufficiently strong to dissipate the gloom under the brush and to show them what seemed to be a well defined trail. "we may find ourselves made a target by some of his wideawake guards. that they are on the alert those shots we heard a bit ago seem to testify," suggested major denning. "oh, we'll use the signal whistle; and i feel sure lieutenant beverly himself will be listening to catch it, for he expects us any minute now." "we're getting close enough just now to exercise due caution, at any rate," the guide answered in a whisper. taking the hint, tom commenced giving the signal. it was a short sharp whistle, four times repeated. hardly had tom sounded this than they heard an answer. "fine!" exclaimed jack. "he's here on deck, and perhaps everything may be all right yet." they continued along the path, and tom repeated his whistling. finally the figure of a man loomed up beyond. "that you, tom, jack?" came a voice. "hello, beverly!" jack burst out impulsively. "we've come all the way by air. what's going on around here; nothing serious happened, i hope?" "rest easy on that score, boys," the other replied, still advancing. "then the machine is still ready for business, is it?" cried jack. "in apple-pie order, down to the last drop of juice, and ready to do the builders proud. but i'm mighty glad to see you, boys, i surely am. afraid there'd be some hitch at the last minute from your end." "and," said tom, wringing the other's hand, "jack has been picturing all sorts of terrible things happening to you and the plane here, near dunkirk. he's as happy as a clam at high tide right now, i assure you." "you bet i am!" jack cried explosively, gripping the fingers of the lieutenant with great enthusiasm. "why, hello! who's this but my english cousin, major denning?" cried beverly, discovering that his two chums were not alone. "thought it best to steer them to you, and take no chances of a miss," explained the officer. "besides, to tell you the truth, i fancied seeing you start off on your long contemplated trip to wake up berlin. once i was in hopes i might even have the opportunity of accompanying you. i've a score to settle with the beast for knocking a hole in my london house and frightening my aunt almost into fits. at least you'll let me wish you _bon voyage_, beverly." tom said nothing. he realized that the major had no inkling of the real purpose of the flight about to be undertaken; and if he was to be told the facts the information must come from lieutenant beverly himself. "oh! by the way, that berlin trip will have to wait," chuckled the lieutenant, making up his mind that a clean breast of the whole matter must follow. "fact is, major, we're after larger game than that would prove to be; something calculated to stagger you a bit, i think." "you're certainly puzzling me by what you say, colin," declared the major, betraying a growing curiosity in voice and manner. "i'd like to know for a fact what you could call larger game than a non-stop flight to berlin and back, starting from the channel here. are you planning a trip to the moon, after jules verne's yarn?" "no. but something that has as yet never been attempted," came the steady reply. "it is a flight across the atlantic to america in the big bomber plane, and starting this very night!" chapter xv the long flight begun major denning was greatly astonished when lieutenant beverly made so astounding an assertion. "well, i wouldn't put anything past you yankees," he presently remarked, with a dry chuckle. "but this is something of a herculean task you're planning, colin. a flight of over three thousand miles is a greater undertaking than any plane has so far been able to carry through. and if you should meet with trouble, the jig is up with you all!" "we understand what we're up against, i assure you," tom replied. "the plan is entirely lieutenant beverly's, sir. sergeant parmly has reason to get home before the _la bretagne_ reaches new york harbor, and she's already three days out. learning this, our good friend here made a thrilling proposition, which we eagerly accepted. that's the story in a nutshell, major denning." "i must say i admire your nerve, that's all," exploded the other, shaking hands with all of them. "just the type of chap i'd like to tie up with. my word! if i could get leave, and there was room for one more aboard the big bomber, i'd beg of you to take me in. but i wish you every luck in the wide world. my word, fancy the nerve of it!" "we must remember not to speak a word so that any of the men can guess what our real destination is," beverly cautioned, as they continued along the path. "only my right-hand agent here knows the truth, and he means to keep it dark." "but they must suspect something unusual," suggested tom. "it's hinted that we are aiming at berlin, don't you know?" pursued the lieutenant, chuckling. "but believe me, the game is a bigger one than just that little jaunt, far bigger in fact." presently they came to the shore where the stout hangar was found, partly hidden under the branches of low trees and shrubbery. before them lay the sandy stretch of beach hard as a dancing floor, and well fitted to be their "jumping off" place. tom bent down to feel it, after the manner of an experienced air pilot. "couldn't be bettered much, could it, tom?" demanded lieutenant beverly confidently. "i should say not!" was the quick response. jack was feeling quite joyous since the outlook for starting on the anticipated flight had become so bright. at the same time he told himself he would not entirely lose that tense sensation around the region of his heart until they were actually off. around the hangar they found a cordon of several armed men; a fact which caused tom to remember that they shortly before had heard the report of firearms, and as yet had failed to learn the cause. then again there was that explosion down the coast. he turned to lieutenant beverly for an explanation. "we too heard the sound of an explosion," beverly told him in reply. "it came from further down the shore. there's some sort of british airdrome in that quarter, i'm informed; and possibly they had an accident there. as for the shooting, that's easily explained. my men were the cause." "spies hanging around, probably?" hazarded the major, in disgust. "we've been bothered with the slick beasts right along--shot several, but even that didn't keep the coast clear." "there have been skulkers around for some time," continued the lieutenant. "baxter tells me he'd warned them off until he grew tired, and threatened that the next one who was caught trying to peep would be fired upon. so to-night when a sentry reported suspicious movements in the brush we sent in a few shots, more to give them a scare than to do any damage." "have they tried to injure your plane, colin?" asked the major. "i understand that once my men discovered a fire had been started in a mysterious way, which they succeeded in putting out. only for prompt work it would have at least disabled the bomber so that its usefulness for the present would be nil." "the ways of those german spies are past finding out," complained major denning. "they seem to take a page from indian tactics, and resort to all species of savage warfare. it wouldn't surprise me if you found they had shot an arrow with a blazing wad of saturated cotton fastened to its head, and used your hangar as a target. history tells us your redskins used to do something like that in the days of the early colonies." shortly afterwards the monster bombing plane was wheeled out of its hangar, and became an object of vast interest to the two air service boys. tom and jack were of course familiar with its working, but needed a few hints from lieutenant beverly with respect to certain new features that it possessed. "what do you think of it, boys?" was the natural question asked by the intrepid flight commander, who of course meant to do his share of the handling of the giant plane during its long flight. "a jim-dandy! that's what!" exclaimed the delighted jack, almost awed by the tremendous size of the up-to-date machine, with its wonderful expanse of planes and its monster body in which the vast amount of stores, as well as surplus gasoline, could be stowed. "i'm confident we'll have more than a fighting chance to reach the objective we have in view," tom in his turn remarked; and even though the men standing near must have heard what he said they could not possibly suspect the truth that lay back of his words. "everything has been looked after, and right now there's not a single item lacking," lieutenant beverly assured them. "mention what you please, and i defy you to find i've overlooked it. i notice that you have brought your glasses along, jack. i have a fine pair with me, but we can doubtless use both." "and on my part," added tom, "i thought it wise to carry a few small knickknacks that i've become attached to. they ought to share my fortunes. if i cash in, my reliable old compass here, for instance, wouldn't be valued highly by any one else; but it's saved my life more than a few times." "and may again," said jack softly; "for those fogs are simply dreadful, if half that's said about them turns out to be true." tom was stooping down and feeling the firm sandy beach. "a splendid place to make our start, lieutenant," he remarked. "i selected it with that idea in view," explained the other. "besides, in a long trip, like the run to berlin, this would be as desirable a station as any. what do you think of the plane, tom?" "as well as i can see it, i am satisfied it will be all you told us," tom answered him, while jack added: "same here." certainly, as seen spread out on the almost level stretch of hard sand the monster bombing plane did have a powerful appearance that must favorably impress any experienced pilot. tom and jack had noted several things about it calculated to inspire confidence. they were taking tremendous risks, of course, but then that was nothing novel in their lives as aviators. "is there anything to delay us further?" asked jack naively, feeling that even minutes might count when the issue was so plainly outlined. "i do not know of the slightest reason," admitted lieutenant beverly, moving toward the bombing plane and followed by his two comrades. "and that being the case, let's get aboard. anything like a written message you would like to leave behind, to be sent in case we are never heard from again, boys? you can give it to my cousin, the major here, who will attend to it." both tom and jack had thought of this long before, and each had prepared a simple statement which would explain their fate in case they met with disaster on the flight. these sealed and directed envelopes they now handed to major denning. "depend on me to hold them until all doubt is past," he told them, as he warmly pressed a hand of each. then lieutenant beverly gave the word to his men, and immediately the hum of the giant motors announced that they were off on their amazing trip to span the atlantic, as it had never been done before, by way of the air! chapter xvi the first night out it was with a strange feeling of exhilaration that tom and jack realized the fact that at last they were embarked on a flight that would either bring about their death or, if successful, make a record in long distance non-stop travel in a heavier-than-air machine. the cheers of the men on the beach had been drowned in the roar of the powerful motors and twin propellers when they left the land and commenced to sweep upward in a graceful curve. both boys looked down to catch the last glimpse of france, the land so closely associated with liberty in the minds of all true americans. it was in her cause two million young yankees were at that very hour facing the boche in a determined effort to chase him back over the rhine and force a stern settlement for all the devastation his armies had wrought. quickly did the darkness blot out all trace of land. back some little distance, it was true, they could still glimpse feeble lights, marking the location of dunkirk. the french no longer feared to illuminate to a limited extent since bombing planes no longer came raiding at night, nor did that unseen monster krupp cannon deliver its regular messages of bursting shells. below them lay the english channel, and lieutenant beverly had so shaped the course that as they rose higher and higher they were heading directly across, with the eastern shore of england close enough to have afforded them a view of the land had it not been night-time. they had discussed all this many times, and settled on what seemed the most feasible route. of course, it might have been a much shorter distance had they decided to head almost south-west-by-south, making for the azores, and stopping there to prepare for another flight across to newfoundland. going that way, they would have had the benefit of the general easterly winds. but this did not appeal to tom and jack for several good reasons. in the first place, it meant that a landing at the azores would be reckoned of such importance that it must be heralded far and near. this was apt to get them into trouble with the military authorities, since they had received no _bona fide_ permission to leave the soil of france; at least, to return to america. then again jack was opposed to the plan for the reason that if they should land at the extreme point of newfoundland considerable delay must be caused by the difficulty of getting transportation to the states. all the while randolph carringford would be steadily moving on, and, landing at new york, have an advantage over jack. there was also a third reason that influenced the young navigators in deciding to take the longer course across the atlantic. this concerned the fogs such as can always be met with off the newfoundland banks, and which are often so dense that vessels flounder through them for several days at a stretch. by taking the southern course, and steering direct for the virginia shore they would be likely to miss much of this trouble, even though it was a time of year when heavy mists hang along the entire atlantic seaboard. all of them were silent for some little time, only the roar of the motor and the propellers beating in their ears. beverly had established a method of communication when in flight without unduly straining the voice. it was very similar to a wireless telephone outfit which tom and jack had employed not long back, and by the use of which they could actually talk with an operator similarly equipped, even if standing on the earth a mile below their plane. it was arranged for all three of them, and could be removed from the head when no communication was desired. in the beginning they were not in the mood to make use of this contrivance, which, however, would undoubtedly be welcome later on, when they would be passing over the apparently limitless sea and the monotony had begun to wear upon their nerves. then conversation might relieve the tension. it was jack who presently called out: "i can see lights below us. do you think we've crossed the channel, lieutenant?" "yes, that's the english shore, and doubtless dover lies directly below us, although we're at such a height that it's impossible to make sure." "what's the idea of keeping so high, lieutenant?" continued jack. "simply to avoid collision with any of the coast guard fliers, who might take us for huns meaning to attack london again after a long break. but jack, i'm going to ask a favor of you." "go to it then!" called out the other, who was plainly "on edge" with excitement over the wonderful fact that they were at last on their way. "drop that formality from this time on," said beverly earnestly. "forget that i happen to rank you, for i'm sure your commissions are only delayed in the coming. from now on let it be either plain colin, or if you prefer, beverly. we're three chums in a boat--a ship of the air, to be exact--and all ranking on a level. you'll agree to that, won't you, jack?" "you bet i will, colin, and it's just like you to propose it!" cried the pleased jack. after that they fell silent again, though now and then jack, who was making good use of the night-glasses, announced that they seemed to be passing over some city. tom had studied their intended course so thoroughly that he was able to tell with more or less accuracy what some of those places were. in so doing he always kept in mind the probable speed at which the big plane was traveling. they had veered a little, and would not come anywhere near liverpool or dublin, as jack had suspected might be the case until he looked over the chart tom had marked. on the contrary, their new course would carry them over the south of england, and just cut across the lower part of ireland; indeed, the latter might have been skipped entirely with profit to themselves in miles gained, only it seemed natural they should want to keep in touch with land just as long as possible. how steadily the giant plane moved majestically through the realms of space several miles above the earth! tom found himself fascinated by the working of the motors from the very minute he first heard them take up their steady labor. surely, if the feat were at all within the bounds of possibilities, they had, as lieutenant beverly said, "a fighting chance." of course there was always impending danger. any one of a score of accidents was liable to happen, especially after the engines had been constantly working hour after hour. such things may bother an aviator when over the enemy's country, because if a landing seems necessary in order to avoid a fatal drop, there must always arise the risk of capture. how much more serious would even the smallest engine trouble become, once they were far out over the ocean with nothing in sight as far as the eye could reach save an endless vastness of rolling waters beneath, and passing clouds overhead? tom, however, would not allow himself to brood upon these possibilities, and when they flashed across his mind he persistently banished them. sufficient to the day was the evil thereof; and if difficulties arose they must meet them bravely, doing the best they could, and accepting the results in the spirit of columbus, who was the pioneer in spanning the atlantic. jack now made a discovery that caused him to call out again. "i believe we've left the land again, and it's water down under us right now, fellows!" he called shrilly, his voice sounding above the clamor by which they were continually surrounded. "well, according to my calculations," said tom, "we should be about quit of england and striking the irish sea at its junction with the atlantic. it's that you believe you see right now." "then before long we'll glimpse ireland's lights!" cried the exultant jack. "though we're likely to pass over only the city of cork as we dash on for the big sea beyond. so far everything is moving like grease, lieu--colin." "i promised you it would," the pilot told him. "and let's hope it keeps up this way all the way through." again they ceased trying to talk since it proved such an effort without resorting to the little wireless telephone arrangement. jack did notify them, however, when he believed he sighted tiny specks far below that he took for the lights of some place of consequence; but tom, who knew better, assured him he must be mistaken. "you're straining your eyes so much you mistake other things for lights, jack," he told the observer. "it might even be the reflection of the stars on the glasses of your binoculars. we're not near cork yet, and there's no other place worth mentioning that we'll come near. rest up, jack." "plenty of time for that after we've struck out over the ocean," came jack's defiant answer. later on he again declared he saw lights. they had been speeding for some hours at a rate of more than sixty miles, which was good time for one of those monster heavily laden bombers to make. "yes, i imagine it's cork this time," said tom, when appealed to. "we veer to the left here, and pass out to sea over queenstown, don't we, colin?" "according to our mapped-out plan that's the course," came the reply, as the pilot shifted his levers, and headed a little more toward the south. their sensations at that particular time were very acute. it was as if they had reached the dividing line, and were about to enter upon a course that would admit of no turning back. "there, the last glimmer of light has disappeared!" finally cried jack in an awed tone, "and we're heading out over the atlantic, bound for america!" chapter xvii when the submarine struck it was long past midnight. in fact, the aviators could expect to see dawn break before a great while. when that event came about they knew what an appalling spectacle must greet their wondering eyes. above, the boundless expanse of blue sky, with fleecy little white clouds passing here and there, looking like islands in a sea of azure; below, an unending sea of tossing waves, with perhaps not even a fishing vessel in sight. jack fell asleep, being utterly tired out. tom too caught what he called little "cat-naps" from time to time. beverly stuck faithfully to his post, for not a wink of sleep could come to one in whose hands the destinies of the whole expedition lay. so the minutes passed, bringing them ever nearer the breaking of another day. the immensity of their undertaking no longer appalled them. it was too late for consideration anyway, since they were now fully launched upon the flight, and turning back was not to be thought of. jack, waking out of a nap, looked down, and immediately uttered a loud cry. "why, it's getting daylight, and you can glimpse the ocean! how queer it looks, fellows, to be sure! is everything going well, colin?" "couldn't be improved on," he was assured by the faithful pilot. "first i must use the glasses to see how it looks at closer range," jack continued. "then i think we ought to have breakfast. this cold air makes a fellow as hungry as a wolf. i think i must have lost myself for a bit." tom did not say anything, only smiled, but he knew that the other had enjoyed at least a full hour of sleep. "how far are we from land, tom, would you say?" next asked the observer, while he was adjusting the glasses to his eyes. "possibly a hundred and fifty miles, perhaps nearer two hundred," tom assured him, in a matter-of-fact tone, as though that was only what might be expected. "hello! i can see a vessel already, and heading into the west!" declared jack. "of course i can't make out what she's like, though i bet you her hull and funnels are camouflaged to beat the band, so as to fool those hun submarine pirates with the stripes of black and white. you don't think it's possible that could be the _la bretagne_, tom?" "well, hardly," came the quick reply, "unless something happened to detain the french steamer after she left havre days ago. she ought to be a whole lot further along than this boat is. she must be some small liner from liverpool or southampton, making for halifax or new york." jack presently tired of staring at the little speck far down below. "i wonder if they can see us with a glass," he next observed, as tom began to hand out bread and butter, with hard-boiled eggs or ham between, and some warm coffee kept in thermos bottles so as to take the chill of the high altitudes out of their bodies. "not a chance in a hundred," beverly assured him. "besides, those aboard the steamer are devoting all their efforts to watching for enemies in the water, and not among the clouds." they munched their breakfast and enjoyed it immensely. indeed it seemed as though they devoured twice as much as upon ordinary occasions. "lucky we laid in plenty of grub!" jack declared, when finally all of them announced that they were satisfied. "this atlantic air makes one keep hungry all the time. now i can see that steamer plainly, for we've dropped a little lower. oh! what can that mean?" his voice had a ring of sudden alarm about it that instantly aroused tom's curiosity. even lieutenant beverly looked over his shoulder as though he, too, felt a desire to learn more. "they seem to be firing guns!" continued jack presently. "of course we're far too high to hear the sound, but i can see the smoke as sure as i'm sitting here. can it be they're being attacked by a hun undersea boat, do you think, boys?" "such things keep on happening right along in these shark-infested waters," replied tom. "go on and tell us all you see, jack!" they were all of them thrilled by the consciousness that possibly a grim tragedy of the sea was being enacted directly beneath, without any likelihood of their being able to render succor to those who might soon be in distress. "they keep on firing," jack continued. "i can see each puff of smoke belch out. there, something has happened! i believe it was a torpedo that exploded against the hull of the steamer, for i saw a great blotch rise up, and men are running about the decks like mad!" beverly had almost automatically decreased their speed, as though inclined to hover above the ill-fated vessel as long as possible, at least to learn what followed. "they seem to be making signals!" jack presently cried out. "look around and see if you can glimpse anything coming on!" demanded tom, as though suspecting the cause of this fresh announcement. hardly had the one who gripped the binoculars started to do as he was requested than he gave a cry of mingled relief and satisfaction. "two boats racing straight for the spot, boys! destroyers, too! like as not americans, for they keep lying out here, you know, to protect our transports going over with the boys. how they do cut through the water with their sharp bows and make the waves fly! but that steamer looks as if she might be sinking right now!" the excitement grew intense. beverly even started to circle around, content to lose a few miles and some minutes if only he could satisfy their minds that all was well with the unfortunate steamer that had been so ruthlessly torpedoed without warning by the undersea pirates. "they're coming up like fun!" cried jack presently. "i can't see as well as i'd like, though, on account of the sea fog that keeps drifting along in patches like clouds. i really believe they'll get up before she founders. now the crew have started putting off boats to make sure of saving the passengers if the worst comes!" "which shows they have a capable captain aboard," commented tom. "but the sea must be pretty rough," continued jack, "because the small boats toss and pitch sharply as they start away from the steamer. hang that fog, it's going to shut the whole picture out soon. but there, one of the destroyers has arrived, and the boats are heading straight on to it." a minute later jack gave them another little batch of news. "the other destroyer is circling around, and must be looking for signs of the sub. wow! that was a terrible waterspout, though. and there goes a second one!" "they're dropping depth bombs, intending to get the slinker!" announced beverly jubilantly. "here's hoping they do then!" cried jack, and immediately afterwards added: "but it's all over for us, boys, because the fog's shut it off completely. might as well get along on our way; but i'm happy to know those yankee boats came up in time to save everybody aboard the steamer. what a bully view we had of the performance!" "it's such things that are apt to break the monotony and routine of a long flight like the one we've undertaken," remarked tom. "in time, of course, the dash across the atlantic will become quite common; and those who make it are apt to see wonderful sights." "two hundred miles out," jack was saying to himself as he sat there still holding the glasses in his hand, though not attempting to make use of them, and his eyes ranged longingly toward the western horizon where the blue of the sky touched the dark green of the boundless sea, all his thoughts centered on the goal that lay far distant across that vast waste of tumbling waters. so as the sun started to climb in the eastern heavens the flight of the big bombing plane carrying the trio of adventurous ones was continued, every mile left behind bringing them that much nearer their destination, with the future still an unsolved problem. chapter xviii the cold hand of fear noon came and went, with the same steady progress being maintained hour after hour. tom relieved beverly at the pilot's berth, and the latter succeeded in getting some much needed rest. still, none of them could sleep comfortably, which was hardly to be wondered at considering their strange surroundings. "my first nap when flying, for a fact!" admitted colin, after he had awakened, and managed to stretch his stiffened limbs. "tough work trying to get a few winks of sleep when one is quivering all over with excitement," jack remarked. they were no longer maintaining such a high course, having descended until the heaving sea lay not more than a thousand feet below. nothing was in sight in any direction, which was one reason for tom's dropping down as he did. "a lot of water," jack commented, for they had started to try out the wonderful little wireless telephone, to find that it really worked splendidly. "guess after the flood noah must have thought that way too. but shucks! we haven't got even a dove to send out." "we happen to have something better," tom told him, "which is the power to shoot our boat through space at the rate of a mile a minute. no ark business about this craft." "well, is there any objection to breaking our fast again?" the other inquired, changing the subject. beverly seemed to think not, for he proceeded to get out the hamper in which much of their prepared food was contained. "i laid in double the quantity i expected we'd devour," he told them, "and then added something to that for good measure. no telling what may crop up; and if we happen to be cast on a desert island a healthy lot of grub might come in handy." "it does right now, when we are far from any island, unless that's one up there in that dark cloud floating above us," and jack stretched out to receive his portion of the lunch as parceled out by colin. "one thing that made me drop to a lower level," explained tom, "was the fact of its being so cold up there among the clouds. already i feel better for the change." "how about it if we should sight a steamer?" asked jack. "they'd report meeting a plane flying west here in midocean, which would stir up no end of comment in the papers, and might lead to our being found out." "we depend on you to keep the glasses in use, and report anything in sight ahead," laughed tom; for the clatter of the motors did not seem to bother them in the least when using the wireless telephone. "and when you sing out 'smoke down low on the horizon to the west!' it's going to be an easy job for us to climb up above the clouds in a hurry." so it was settled, and they ate their lunch in comfort. up to that time not the slightest thing had arisen to give them concern with regard to the working of the engines. these aroused the admiration of the three voyagers by their remarkable performance. tom declared their equal had never been installed in any plane that was ever built, and lieutenant beverly's eyes glowed with satisfaction to hear his pet praised so cordially by one whose good opinion he valued as highly as he did tom raymond's. after jack had taken his turn at piloting the machine, he amused himself "between naps" by watching the surface of the sea through the binoculars. "no telling but what i may glimpse a submarine creeping along under the surface," he told the others jokingly. "then wouldn't we wish we'd brought along a few bombs--the kind they dropped on that hun bridge the night we went with the raiders. right now i could almost imagine that shark's dorsal-fin was a periscope belonging to an undersea boat." other things came along to cause momentary interest, among them rolling porpoises that rose in sight, and then vanished under the waves, though from their height the boys could easily follow their movements. jack was getting a good deal of enjoyment out of the situation, and tom was glad to notice this fact. he had feared his chum's nerves might give way under the long-continued strain; but apparently jack had returned to his ordinary condition. all of them rather dreaded the coming of night. flying in midocean while daylight lasted was serious enough, but with darkness around for many hours, the situation must awaken new anxieties. but their hearts were still apparently undaunted. the success that had rewarded their bold starting out gave abundant promise of still better things ahead. tom resolutely refused to allow himself to have any fear. what if two thousand miles still lay between them and the goal of their hopes? was not the miracle-worker of a monster plane doing remarkably fine work, and should they not continue to believe the end justified the means? so they watched the sun dropping lower and lower in the western sky without any one voicing the thought that must have been in each mind. the same inscrutable providence that had watched over them by day would still guard them when the light was gone. under the stars, seeming now so much nearer and brighter than when ashore, they went on and on, until back in the east another day dawned, the great day of hope for them! jack had taken to looking eagerly ahead once more. "what do you think you see?" beverly asked him, for tom again served as pilot at the steering gear. "why, i'm all mixed up about it," came the slow reply. "it certainly isn't a steamer, and again it just can't be land!" "well, hardly," beverly answered. "to tell the honest truth i don't believe there's a foot of land closer to us than the bermudas, which must lie off in that direction," pointing further toward the southwest. "when the sun glints on it i'm fairly dazzled," jack continued, "just as if some one had used a piece of broken looking-glass to shoot the rays into my eyes. and then there's a sort of queer mist hanging about that thing in the bargain, so that sometimes it's almost blotted out. what under the sun can it be?" "i think i can give a guess," tom called back. "how would an iceberg fill the bill, colin?" "just the thing, i'd say," the lieutenant answered, "only who ever heard of an iceberg floating down in mid-atlantic at this season of the year? such a thing would be uncommon, to say the least." "but not impossible?" ventured tom, to which the other agreed. "take a look, and tell us, colin," urged jack, offering the glasses. a minute afterwards they were handed bade again. "just what it is, tom, after all," reported beverly. "a pretty tall berg it seems to be, with an extensive ice-floe around it as level in spots as a floor. i thought i saw something move on it that might be a polar bear, caught when the berg broke away from its arctic glacier. we will pass directly over, and may be able to feel the chill." "it was the _titanic_, wasn't it, that bumped into an iceberg, and went down with such a frightful loss of life?" remarked jack. "no other," replied tom. "but we'll try to make sure nothing like that happens to our frail craft. try to guess what would happen to that monster berg if we hit head on?" "hardly a crack!" jack retorted. "but i'm more interested in wondering what would become of us. guess we'd better keep a good thousand feet up, and not bother trying to pry into the ice-floe's secrets." "i'm not dreaming of dropping a foot lower just at present," tom said decisively; and not one of them dreamed how soon that decision would have to be reversed, since all still looked fair about them, with no storm in sight and the wonderful motors kept up their regular pulsations as if capable of going on forever. yet strange vicissitudes and changes are the portion of those who follow the sea; which may also be applied to other voyagers of space, the sailors of the air. one minute all seems fair, with the sun shining; another, and a white squall is dashing down upon the ship, to catch the crew unawares and perhaps smother them with its mighty foam-crested billows. it was not half an hour later when something happened that was calculated to chill the hearts of those bold navigators, such as even close contact to the ice-floe and berg could never bring about. at the time they had reached a point almost above the field of ice from the arctic regions, and jack was scrutinizing its full extent, commenting the while on many peculiar features that attracted his attention. "it's a polar bear, all right, fellows," he announced, "and believe me he's some size in the bargain. if i had a rifle along i wouldn't mind dropping down there and rustling him. but what ails you, tom? you seem bothered about something. gee! you're as white as a ghost!" lieutenant beverly leaned forward and clutched the pilot's arm. "anything gone wrong with the motors, tom?" he demanded hoarsely. "i've just made a terrible discovery," replied tom, trying to control himself. "the worst has happened, and i'm afraid we're in for a bad time!" chapter xix a desperate chance "tell us the worst, tom!" cried beverly hoarsely. jack tried to echo the words, but his tongue seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth. he knew his chum well enough to feel assured that no ordinary hovering peril could cause the other to look so ashen pale. it must be a frightful catastrophe by which they were threatened, jack realized. "the feed pipe! it must be choking up! latterly i've more than suspected the motors were doing poorer work than before!" the others understood. under ordinary conditions they would decide on dropping to the ground for repairs; a task that might be carried out in a brief time, or consume hours, everything depending on the condition in which they found things. but how utterly impossible to dream of doing anything like that now! jack looked down to where, in the declining light of the sun, he could see that limitless sea of billowy water. how different indeed all might be were their airship a seaplane, capable of floating on the surface of the water and making a successful launch from it, just as a gull would do. "i'll take a look, tom!" lieutenant beverly called out. "not that i doubt what you say, but all of us will have to put our heads together; we shall need all our wits if what you fear proves to be a fact." tom was more than willing, in fact he would have himself insisted on the lieutenant or jack doing this very thing. pilots differ in plenty of ways; and, as beverly had said, one might hit on an answer to the problem that had entirely escaped the others. jack said not a word, but almost held his breath while beverly was making his eager examination. the plane was not more than a thousand feet above the sea at most, and going very slowly now. a short time elapsed. then beverly completed his task. the flight lieutenant looked more serious than ever, which told the story even before he uttered a single word. apparently the worst had come, and they were up against a question on the answer to which everything, even life itself, depended. "i'm sorry to say it's a positive fact, boys!" called out beverly, and as both the others were straining their ears to catch what he said, they had no difficulty in hearing every word. "it's the supply pipe clogging then?" tom asked. "yes," came the quick answer. "and while under some conditions i've been able to get along for a short time without dropping down, as a rule i've found it wise to look for a landing-place before things got to the point of desperation and avoid a fall, possibly in the midst of a german battalion." "no chance of our getting at it while afloat, is there?" jack asked, although he knew what beverly was bound to say. "not the slightest," the other shot back. "it might keep going for something like an hour, and then shut off the gas entirely. of course there's always a possibility of a miracle happening, such as the obstruction being suddenly overcome; but i'm afraid that's one chance in a million." "but can't something be done, boys? must we just fold our hands, and meet our fate?" demanded jack. "what are you thinking about, tom, for i can see a look in your face that we ought to know? have you an idea--is there yet a hope that we can get a grip on this danger, and choke it?" tom's face was still colorless, but there was a gleam in his eye, which jack had discovered. perhaps after all it might be only the light of desperation, a determination to die game if a cruel fortune decreed that their time had come. jack could not tell. "yes, i have a plan," said tom quickly. "perhaps you'll both call it a wild idea, and think i'm crazy; but desperate cases call for equally desperate remedies, and at the worst we'll have a chance." "good boy, tom!" cried jack. "just like you to hit on a plan! haven't i known you to come to the front many times when things looked very black for us?" "tom, tell your scheme!" demanded beverly. "things may develop faster than we suspect now, and if there's any way to get around this trouble the sooner we start the better." "of course," tom replied, "we'll be taking the risk of smashing the nose of our craft when we strike, unless luck favors us. i've landed on every sort of ground, from smooth velvety turf to bumpy stuff that almost joggled me to pieces; but i never before tried dropping on an ice-floe!" beverly and jack stared hard at each other. apparently the idea struck them like a sudden blow, showing that neither had as yet contemplated such a thing. then they turned and stared down at the wide field of floating ice that was attached to the towering bulk of the mighty berg, as though weighing the possibility of tom's amazing suggestion in their minds. jack gave a shout. "tom, you're a genius, that's what you are!" he almost shrieked in the intensity of his emotion. "i honestly believe it can be done successfully." "we'd have to drop a whole lot lower, so as to take a closer survey, and learn just how smooth the surface of the floe is," tom continued. "i've looked through the glasses," replied jack. "and as far as i could make out it seemed fairly decent. i know we've landed on worse ground many a time, and without being wrecked." "look again then, while i'm dropping down," urged tom. all of them were tremendously excited, as may readily be believed. and who would not have been under similar conditions? although army air pilots are accustomed to taking great risks, and seldom go up without the thought flitting through their minds that their hour may be close at hand, still they are human, and when the dreadful crisis springs upon them they can feel the chilly hand that seems to clutch the heart. jack soon made his report. "yes, it looks good to me!" he cried, with a hopeful ring to his voice. "i can see a crack or two that would be bad for us to run into; but there's a clear field over on the north side of the floe. i'm sure we could make it without getting badly shaken up. then it's our only chance; if we miss this what else could we do?" "nothing," tom replied quietly. "but i'm going to circle the berg, and see what lies on the other side." "whatever we decide to do," remarked beverly, who seemed to have recovered to a great extent from his first perturbation, "we must lose no time about carrying it out. that feed pipe might become fully clogged at any minute, you know. then besides, the sun is ready to dip down behind the sea horizon, when we'll soon be plunged into darkness." "yes," agreed tom, "we mustn't fool away our time. it's going to be no easy job to make a safe landing on the ice, something none of us has ever practiced. but it'd be still worse to go at it haphazard." the others knew what was in tom's mind. should they seriously injure the big bombing plane there would be no way of making repairs. on land it could be turned over to the repair-shop, and inside of a week perhaps emerge once more in as good shape as ever. no such convenience could be looked for out there in mid-atlantic! in a short time they had circled the great mass of ice. they all fully realized now how cold it was, and why the sea water must be affected for a mile or more all around such a tremendous bit of the arctic regions. they found that most of the floe lay on the north side of the berg; and decided that their best chance for landing must be in that quarter. "the old berg looks top-heavy," jack at one time called out. "you can see that it leans toward the north; and sometimes i've thought it wobbled considerably, though that may have been the plane waving up and down." "no, you were right, jack," said beverly. "its leaning that way tells that the warmer sea water has begun to eat at its base. before a great while the berg will roll over, and smash all that floe into bits." "i hope not when we're on it, working at our motor!" jack could not keep from exclaiming, looking with more interest than ever at the monster berg that had come all this distance from some glacier a thousand miles away, perhaps several times that distance, and would sooner or later lose itself in sub-tropical waters. lower still tom took them. all eyes continued to survey the field of ice, particularly in that extreme northern sector where jack had reported lay the best place for landing. "once more in a circle so as to face the wind," said tom, "and then i mean to put it to the test." "good luck to you, tom!" said jack. "if ever you dropped as if you were falling on eggs, let it be now. i'm going to hold my breath when we strike the ice, and only hope we don't keep gliding along until we shoot off the edge into the sea!" "leave that to me, jack," came the assurance of the pilot. after that no one said a word, for both lieutenant beverly and jack parmly realized that it would be dangerous to distract tom's attention from his work just at the most critical moment. the sun had reached the horizon, and inside of a few minutes must vanish from view. at that moment tom shut off the engine, and made ready to alight! chapter xx on the ice floe if ever tom raymond had need of skill and care it was then, for what might be an ordinary mishap ashore must be a fatal accident under the conditions by which they were faced. but almost as lightly as a snowflake touches the ground he brought the wheels under the big bomber in contact with the ice. indeed, jack could not tell for a certainty when the actual contact occurred; though immediately afterwards he found himself being shaken more or less as the heavy plane bumped along over the ice. one peril still menaced them, which was that their momentum, unless halted, might carry them to the terminus of the floe, and plunge them over. but tom had taken all precautions, and allowed for everything, even an unusual slide on account of the smooth surface under the wheels. slower grew their progress, though the bumping continued unabated. and finally they had come to a full stop, with still some little stretch of the ice field ahead. then jack tried to yell, cowboy fashion; but, to his surprise and disgust, he could hardly make a sound above a whisper, his voice having failed him through sheer nervous excitement. he jumped from his seat, and immediately sat down with a rude jar on the ice; but, nothing daunted, he quickly scrambled to his feet and began to dance like a wild indian might when the war tocsin sounds through the village, and all his primeval instincts are aroused by the thought of fighting and plunder. tom and lieutenant beverly also hastened to leave their seats. they too found that their legs were cramped and almost useless, through having maintained a sitting position during so many weary hours. jack's exuberant spirits caused him to fairly hug his chum. "didn't i know you could do it, tom?" he cried. "see how the old luck keeps hanging over us, will you? it's always been this way, colin; and to have tom along means success every time." "that may be," the lieutenant replied, giving tom a fond look; "but if i were you i'd call it something more than just luck. it takes brains to think up such schemes as this one, brains and a lively imagination in the bargain; and tom's rich in both of those requirements." "let's get busy, and see about fixing that feedpipe," broke out the modest object of all this praise. "we have only a short time of daylight to work in, and after that must depend on our little searchlight torch." all were willing to start work. jack found himself shivering slightly, although they had not been on the ice-floe many minutes. "gee, but it's certainly cold, for a fact!" he exclaimed. "i'd hate to be marooned here any length of time, let me tell you, even if we did have grub enough to last over a week. why, we'd freeze to death; not to mention what would become of us when the old berg crashed over and scattered all this floe ice!" "let's hope that our stay will be of short duration then," said beverly, with a quick and apprehensive glance in the direction of the towering iceberg, upon the peak of which the last rays of the sinking sun glinted until it seemed to be frosted with a million diamonds. tom was already busily engaged, after the bomber had been wheeled partly around, in order that he might have the benefit of what light remained with the departure of day. beverly and jack hovered over him, ready to give advice, or lend a helping hand. of course none of them had ever had to do with this particular type of a plane; but then all engines have many similarities in their construction, and tom, as well as the other two, had proved themselves to be capable mechanics, as well as able pilots. finally, as it was impossible for the three of them to work at the repairs, jack walked around and examined the singular formation constituting the berg and attendant ice-floe. "why," he told himself in glee, "it floated across our path when we needed a landing-place the worst kind, as if we'd ordered it to be held in waiting. it might be the next time there'll be a convenient island handy, though i hope there'll come no next time." he even found a way to climb on to the berg itself, though in most places the field ice was chopped into small bits by some action on the part of the vast bulk, perhaps during a high wind and a heavy sea. "all i want to be able to say is that i've been on a regular iceberg," jack announced, after he had once more returned to his mates; "but it's frigid, let me tell you. why, there's enough ice in that mountain to freeze all the cream made around new york in a whole season, and then some." he found that tom was still busily engaged, with beverly bending down in frequent consultation. "say, is it going to be anything serious, fellows? worse than we at first thought?" beverly looked up and gave him a reassuring smile. he was now holding the little hand-torch and directing its ray so that tom could get the full benefit. "no reason to believe so, jack," he remarked quietly. "tom's still of the opinion that we ought to have it all fixed up for keeps before an hour goes by, if things keep on working as we expect." "fine! you make me happy when you say that, colin!" jack returned. "if only the berg doesn't roll over before we get out of this, i'll consider that we have much to be thankful for," he added slowly. "could you feel any motion when you stood on that lower shelf of the berg?" asked beverly, showing that he had watched what jack was doing. "i should say i could," the other assured him. "it nearly made me sea-sick. i'd hate to have to stay here very much longer. if you watch a cloud passing you can see just how the peak dips, and swings back and forth. it's getting ready to tumble, and before long!" tom worked on. he too realized that the longer they were compelled to stay on the ice field the greater their danger must become. if that towering berg ever did turn over bottom-up it would smash the floe into fragments and churn up the adjacent waters in a way that would leave no avenue of escape for the trio of adventurous air pilots who had alighted there by reason of circumstances beyond their control. his hands felt cold, and he was compelled at times to get up and thrash both arms about to induce circulation in his extremities. beverly and jack both offered to take his place, but tom, having started the job, thought he had better finish it if possible. "everything seems to be working along as good as pie," beverly reported, in order to add to jack's peace of mind, for he knew the other must be growing a bit anxious again. delay meant so much to jack in this endeavor to beat the steamship across the atlantic. "if you've no objections, i'll rustle after that grub bag, and indulge in something to help get rid of this empty feeling i've got. we'll all feel better for something to eat," said jack. "i think tom could work faster if he would take time now for a sandwich." "you're right, perhaps, jack," returned colin. "although we had better wait for a full meal till we get in the air." "here's luck, boys!" cried jack a minute afterwards. "what have you found now?" asked tom, without looking up. "why, the coffee's still hot. and let me tell you, it feels good to my hands. there never was a finer thing for poor air pilots than these bottles that allow them to have a warm drink when two miles up, and in freezing temperature. this will put fresh life in our bodies." "that isn't half bad," answered tom; "so hand it over, and i'll take a drink or two." tom swallowed his coffee and hastily ate a sandwich, but the others, without tom's reason for haste, ate hungrily. never, they confessed, had they felt such voracious appetites as on this flight. perhaps the invigorating sea air had something to do with it; but jack, at least, was not the one to bother himself about the cause, so long as the provisions held out. some time passed in this way. tom at work, beverly holding the flashlight in one hand and taking in the other such food as jack handed to him. tom had just remarked he believed he had effected a radical cure, and that the feed-pipe was not likely to become obstructed again; at the same time jack could see he was starting to put things together once more. it began to look as though they might be ready to make a fresh start in a very short time, not more than ten minutes, jack figured. it thrilled him to realize this fact. he even glanced toward the towering berg as if to say: "now be good, and just hold off your gymnastics till we get started, old chap! afterwards you can cut up as much as you please, and little we'll care. but i've got too much at stake right now in getting to land to have any silly ice mountain turn over on me. so forget your troubles for another half hour, if you please!" just then jack saw something move close by. a scuffling sound, followed by a strange sniffling, could be plainly heard. jack bent down and clutched beverly by the arm, saying shrilly: "listen, both of you! that polar bear is coming for us, and i think he means business, too!" chapter xxi attacked by a polar bear "here's trouble, all right!" grumbled beverly, as he turned, looking to where jack was pointing, and also discovered something moving. tom dropped his monkey-wrench. something else besides a tool of that kind would be needed to defend them against the claws and teeth of such a bulky monster as a huge polar bear. all of them could now make the animal out as beverly concentrated the little ray of light upon him. the beast was advancing slowly, but pugnaciously, sniffling the air, and evidently furiously hungry on account of his prolonged cruise upon the icefield, deprived of his customary fish meals. "what ought we do, tom?" jack called out hurriedly. "if we retreat, like as not he'll muss things up around here, and maybe ruin our plane for us." "we must keep him away!" announced lieutenant beverly. "it would mean death to us all if he got to tumbling around and smashed some of the parts of the machine." as he said this he fumbled about his person, producing the automatic pistol with which he usually went on his flights; and without which few air pilots venture to enter into combat with enemy fliers. tom duplicated his act immediately, while jack, at the same time, secured his weapon from the place where he kept it when in his seat. so, after all, things did not seem to be altogether favorable to bruin; and had the bear only known what he was up against possibly he would have found it discreet to back off and let the three strange creatures alone. "be sure to hold your fire, boys!" lieutenant beverly ordered, taking command. "we must be like old put at the battle of bunker hill, and wait till we can see his eyes clearly. it's going to be hard to drive off that big rascal with only pistols! aim for the spot back of his foreleg if you can; that may reach his heart!" there was not much time for preparation, since the bear kept advancing at the same shuffling gait. tom tried shouting at him, hoping the sound of a human voice might cause the beast to alter his intention, and turn back. the bear did stop, and thrust his muzzle further out as though to get a better whiff of the queer animals against which he found himself pitted. "didn't go, tom, for he's coming on again!" cried jack. "get ready to give him a volley," the lieutenant ordered. "tom, move off a bit to the right, and i'll go to the left. that may upset his calculations some; and besides, we'll have a better chance to bore in back of his forelegs. jack, stand where you are, and shoot when we do!" "i'm game!" came the steady reply. both the others made a quick move, and the bear found himself facing three separate points of peril. he growled fiercely, and came on again, straight toward the plane, which seemed to have aroused his curiosity. perhaps he fancied it was some monster bird that would afford him more than one good meal. "give it to him, everybody!" suddenly shouted lieutenant beverly. hardly had he uttered the last word than there was a rattle of firearms as the three of them discharged their weapons. there arose a mighty roar of anger as the bear felt the sudden pain of bullets entering his flesh. "again! he's staggering, but full of fight yet!" once more the pistol shots rang out. the bear was moving, but seemed to be growing quite weak and confused, for once he fell half over, though managing to recover and push on. it took several more rounds before the huge bulk rolled over, gave a few spasmodic kicks, and then expired. "bully work, boys!" shouted jack, as he hurried forward to take a close-up view of their victim. "gee whiz! but isn't he a buster though? never did i dream i'd help bring down a real arctic white bear! and just to think of the queer conditions of this hunt, too, will you? i wager, now, there never was one like it--by airplane at that!" after one look at the bear tom returned to his task. shooting game was all very fine, but he had business of a different character to call for his attention just then. "wonder if the old chap has got a mate around?" suggested jack, a sudden thought causing him to survey the ice-floe as seen under the faint light of the stars that were beginning to show in the heavens above. "not one chance in a thousand he had company," beverly insisted; "but no harm in your keeping a wary eye about, jack, while tom gets things in shape again. i have to stay here with the light. if you've a sharp knife what's to hinder you from taking one of his claws for a trophy?" "i'll do that same. thank you for reminding me, colin! some fellows i know are such doubting thomases you have to be in a position to prove everything you tell them. tom, loan me that knife of yours, please. it's got an edge like a razor to it, and those paws look simply immense." "make haste about it, for we'll soon be ready to skip out of this place," tom warned him as he handed over the knife. jack began to work industriously. he found he had undertaken no mean job when he contracted to sever one of the front paws of the dead polar bear. not only did he have to cut through ligaments and tough skin, but the bones themselves gave him no end of trouble. he solved this by finding the heavy monkey-wrench, and using it as a hammer, with the knife in place, thus actually severing the paw complete after considerable trouble. "there, isn't that a regular beauty to show?" he demanded, holding up the result of his labor. "i feel something like a young indian warrior who's just killed his first grizzly, and means to hang the claws about his neck to prove his bravery." he stood looking down at the monster bear for a minute, debating something in his mind. "i wonder now," jack finally observed, "if we could eat that bear meat, supposing something happened to keep us marooned on this ice for weeks at a stretch? what do you think about it, tom?" "it might be possible, if we got in a bad pinch and were almost starving," came the reply. "but you must remember we'd have to swallow it raw, because we haven't any means for making a fire; and trying to kindle a blaze on the ice would be a tough job." "then i'm glad to know we don't have to depend on bear meat to keep us from starving," jack announced. "pretty nearly through, tom?" "five minutes more ought to see us ready to start. i'm pretty hungry though and would like something more to eat. you boys ate a good deal, but you called it 'a snack,' and not 'supper.'" "on the whole," colin suggested, "perhaps we'd better leave the supper until we get to moving smoothly again. things ought to taste better if we feel we've got the bulge on this engine trouble for fair." jack did not try to urge any undue haste. nevertheless he looked several times in the quarter close by where the big berg raised its cone, as if his uneasiness now might be wholly concerned with its possibilities for making fresh trouble. was it imagination, or some sort of optical delusion that made the tip of the huge berg seem to come lower and lower, then draw back again as if making a ceremonious bow like a dancing-master? jack gasped, and opened his lips to cry out, but thinking better of it restrained the temptation. they could not get away until the repairs were complete. at the same time, while trying to make himself believe he had magnified the thing, he was conscious of a louder grinding noise than any heard up to that moment. tom was putting the finishing bolt in place. a few more efforts and he would be able to announce that his task had been completed. jack became conscious of a peculiar undulating movement to the ice under his feet. it was just the same as he could remember experiencing when on skates, and going at full steam over a thin section of ice that must have easily broken under his weight only for the speed with which he crossed over. was the ice floe about to break up? would it result in several smaller sections separating from the main stem, none of which might be of a size to allow them sufficient room for making a start? the thought alarmed jack. he also knew that undoubtedly any movement to the pack ice must be caused by some action of the giant berg. was that mountain of ice about to take the plunge at last, and turn over, its base being eaten away to such an extent that the whole had become top-heavy? once again did jack turn his startled eyes to the left. he could not get it out of his mind how terribly suggestive that "bow" on the part of the berg had been. there it was, coming again! perhaps the wind had grown stronger since they dropped down upon the ice, and was adding its force to the action of the waters. jack found himself unable to hold in any longer. if such a dreadful peril hung over them it was time his companions knew the need of haste in getting free from that doomed field of ice. so he put all doubts behind him and gave tongue. "hurry, hurry, tom! the iceberg is acting queerly. it's tottering as if ready to roll over on us! don't you see how it acts, tom?" chapter xxii when the iceberg rolled over fortunately tom had everything ready for an immediate start, acting under orders, jack and beverly having previously changed the position of the big plane, so that it now faced the run taken when landing. this brought the wind back of them; but that would be an asset rather than a detriment. they had also gone hastily over the course to make absolutely certain there was no break, or other trap, which might give them serious trouble. "jump aboard, both of you!" cried tom, still keeping his head--a lucky thing, since to get "rattled" in such a crisis might prove fatal. the beating of the engine and the whirr of the propellers announced that they were off. on the comparatively smooth ice it was easy to make a start unassisted by mechanics or hostlers. jack's heart seemed to be in his throat, and he waited in feverish suspense to learn whether success or failure was to be their fortune. faster now grew their progress, but would the stretch of ice prove a long enough area to give them the necessary momentum? every second they expected to hear horrible grinding noises from behind, such as must accompany the toppling over of the berg. even the splash of waves against the further side of the big ice-floe seemed like the pounding of a monster hammer, at least to jack's excited imagination. they were now drawing perilously near the brink. was tom ever going to elevate the plane and attempt the rise from the flat surface of the ice? just when it seemed to jack that hope must yield to despair he realized that the jumpy motion of the plane ceased suddenly. he knew what this meant, and that tom had finally shown his hand, for they no longer bumped along but began to move through space! then jack fell back, breathing freely again. success had rewarded their efforts, and once more the big bomber was speeding through its own element on the wings of the wind. but it had indeed been a narrow escape for the adventurous trio; for hardly had they started to swing upward into space when from behind them arose a series of horrible crashings, gurglings, and the mad splashing of water, telling that in truth the giant berg had carried out its threat and rolled completely over, playing havoc with the entire floe. no one spoke immediately. in fact, none of them could have uttered a word, no matter how hard he had tried. in each young heart a feeling of intense gratitude reigned, as well as a sensation of horror, for only too well did they know what their immediate fate must have been had they remained prisoners on the ice but another two minutes. tom pointed the nose of the plane directly into the southwest. he even seemed to be getting additional speed out of his motors, as though bent on making up for the lost time. all of them began to settle down for another long monotonous period with the whole night before them. far from comfortable might be their situation, but not a single complaint would be heard. all they asked was that things might go on as they were, with the plane reeling off knot after knot of the cruise into the west. after a while jack remembered that tom had had but a bite of supper. accordingly he got out the supplies and proceeded to serve them. then he took tom's place for a while and held the airship true to her course. they kept about five hundred feet or so above the sea. somehow it gave them a little encouragement just to catch the glint of the stars on the tumbling waves below. there was a friendliness in the billows, a something that seemed to keep them in contact with their fellow men; a thing which they missed when passing along two thousand feet or more above the surface of the terrestrial globe, even beyond the floating clouds. so the long vigil was taken up. hour after hour the giant bomber must wing its swift flight, ever speeding onward into the realm of space through which it was now making a voyage unequalled since columbus sailed his three high-decked boats into that unknown ocean at the end of which he expected to come to the east indies. by turns they managed to get some sleep, each serving his trick as pilot. the hours grew into early morning. how eagerly did the pilot often turn his tired head to gaze backward toward the east, to see if but the first faint gleam of coming dawn had appeared there. and how joyfully did he welcome it when that desire became reality. so the unfolding day found them, still heading onward, and with everything promising well. jack, of course, had his binoculars out as soon as it was possible to see any distance. shortly afterwards he made an important announcement. "smoke head of us, fellows. much too much to come from any one steamer. you can see it with the naked eye, dead on there!" after taking a good look, tom, who was at the wheel, gave his opinion. "it might be a vessel afire," he said slowly. "one of those tank-oil steamers would make a fierce smoke, you know. but on the whole i rather believe it's a convoy of troop ships going across to france." "i never thought of that, tom!" cried jack, again clapping the glasses to his eyes; "but i reckon you're right, for i can see funnels of black smoke rising from different quarters. yes, there must be dozens of boats in that flotilla. what had we better do?" "go aloft, and try to keep out of sight among the little clouds," was the immediate reply tom made. "we could continue to watch, and see all that passed below, at the same time keeping ourselves fairly invisible. they'll hardly be looking up so as to discover a speck floating past. and then again all that smoke is bound to make it difficult for them to see." he lost no time in commencing a spiral climb for altitude, boring upward with the powerful bomber in a way that was wonderful. by degrees they attained the height desired, and once again did tom head into the southwest. jack reported what he saw from time to time, calling above the noise made by engines and propellers. "it's a big convoy, all right," he told them. "i can see ever so many steamships following one another in double column. each is loaded with our boys in khaki, i presume. then off on either side and ahead are little specks that i can just make out by reason of their smoke streamers. those must be the score or more of destroyers, guarding the flotilla against u-boat attack. it's a great sight, let me tell you! here, colin's getting out his glasses to take a look. tom, you must have a chance too." each in turn managed to survey the stirring spectacle as spread out upon the sea far beneath them. and the pulses of those gallant lads throbbed with pardonable pride when they realized what magnificent efforts america was making to win the war in favor of the allies, after entering it so late herself. gradually the great smoke cloud began to grow more distant, the fleet with its convoy having passed by, continuing to head into the east, where the lurking u-boat would possibly be waiting to attack. "that was a great sight!" exclaimed tom, as their attention again turned to possibilities lying before them, rather than what had passed by. "never forget it as long as i live!" jack declared vehemently. "it's been a good thing for us in more than one way," tom went on to say. "you see, personally, i've been just a bit in doubt about our actual bearings; and this has set me straight. i can put my finger on the actual spot on the chart where we'd be likely to meet the fleet. so now we've got to change our course sharply." "running more into the south-southwest, you mean, i suppose, tom?" asked beverly. "just that," continued the acting pilot. "we want to strike the virginia shore, you understand, and right now we're off long island. after several hours on our new course we'll again make a sharp swing into the west, and then look for land!" "and that land, oh, joy! will be our own america!" cried jack, his face fairly beaming with expectation. they kept booming along on the new course for several hours, and as it did not seem necessary to continue at such a great altitude they again descended to the old familiar line of flight, with the sea about five hundred feet below. "given another hour," tom said, along about the middle of the morning, "and it will be time to strike for the west. we must be off delaware or the tip of maryland right now. jack just reported a faint glimpse of land, but wasn't sure it might not be a low-hanging cloud bank." "and now we're in for another experience, i'm afraid," called out jack, "for there's a nasty sea fog sweeping along from the south. we're bound to drive into it before five minutes more--the first real mist blanket to strike us all the way across." jack's prediction proved no idle one, for in less than the time specified they found themselves suddenly enveloped by a dense mantle of mist through which it would have been utterly impossible to have seen anything a hundred feet away. tom for one did not like the coming of that fog just when they were about to drew near the land of their hopes. unlike a vessel, they could not come to anchor and ride it out, waiting for the fog to lift; but must drive on, and desperately strive to find some sort of landing. "the thickest fog i ever saw!" jack observed, after they had been passing through the moist gray blanket of mist for some little time. "just the usual kind you'll meet with on the sea at times," answered the lieutenant. "i was caught in one when out on the fishing banks, and it wasn't any too pleasant a feeling it gave me either. but for our compass we'd never have reached shore again." "and but for the compass right now," said tom, "it would be next to impossible to steer a straight course." "one good thing," jack told them; "very little danger of a collision, such as vessels are likely to encounter in so dense a fog." "no, the air passage across the atlantic hasn't become so popular yet that we have to keep blowing a fog horn while sailing," laughed colin. all of them were feeling considerably brighter, now that their wonderful venture seemed to be drawing close to a successful termination. if only their luck held good and allowed them to make a safe landing, they felt they would have good reason for gratitude. "what makes it feel so queer at times?" jack asked later on. "why, i seem to have the blood going to my head, just as happened when looping the loop, and hanging too long in stays." "i've noticed the same thing myself," added colin briskly, "and tried to figure out the cause. tom, what do you say about it?" "a queer situation has arisen, according to my calculation," the pilot told them. "fact is, without being able to see a solitary thing anywhere about us, above or below, it's often impossible to know when we're sailing on a level keel, or flying upside down!" "that's a fact," admitted lieutenant beverly. "when you haven't the slightest thing to guide you, stars, sun, or earth, how can you tell which is up or which is down? we go forward because of the compass; but part of the time i do believe, just as you say, tom, we've been flying upside-down!" "i don't fancy this way of flying," tom announced. "i think it would be better for us to climb in order to see if we can get out of this pea-soup." "ditto here!" echoed jack. "i'm getting dizzy, with it all, and my head feels twice as heavy as ordinary. you can't mount any too soon to please me, tom." lieutenant beverly was not averse, it seemed, so the call became unanimous. "all we want is to sight land," the lieutenant remarked. "then we can start for the interior, and try to pick a nice soft spot for landing without getting all smashed up." later on he was reminded of that wish by jack, for they certainly found such a spot, as future events proved. by climbing to a considerable height it was found that they could avoid the uncomfortable experiences that had befallen them closer to the surface of the ocean. here the sun was shining, and while clouds floated around them there was no longer a chance of the plane being inverted. jack could make out land at times, though still faintly seen, and lying low on the uncertain horizon. "i wonder if that can be virginia i see?" he sometimes said; but talking more to himself than trying to make the others hear. "it isn't far away at most, jack," beverly assured him; for he sympathized with jack and the reason the other had for longing to get to the home town ahead of his scheming cousin. "show me the chart and just about where we ought to be right now, tom," said jack. "that is, if it's no trouble." "no trouble to do it," came the quick reply, and with a pencil tom made a cross on the chart while jack's eyes danced with joy. "then that must be virginia off there to the west!" he cried, again snatching up the glasses for another earnest look. tom watched him out of the corner of his eye. well did he know that as jack feasted his gaze upon the far distant land in imagination he was seeing that dearly loved home, with the friends who were so precious to him, and in fancy receiving their warm greetings. they continued on for some little time. tom felt pretty confident that he was correct, though he would be glad to have some confirmation of his figuring. "the fog is thinning some!" he finally stated, "and i think we'd better seek a lower level." "might as well," added beverly, approving of the idea instantly. "yes," added jack, "when the time comes to fly landward we'll want to be down far enough to see where we're going. we needn't be afraid any longer of making a sensation, because seaplanes must be cruising over these waters nearly every day, coming from the station near fortress monroe at hampton roads." accordingly it was not long before they were skirting the upper reaches of the diminishing fog bank, being about a thousand feet or so above the sea itself. now and then slight rifts appeared in the disappearing mist, and at such intervals it was possible for them to catch fleeting glimpses of the atlantic, whose wide expanse they had successfully spanned, an event that would make history, if only it could ever be publicly known. jack could no longer see the low shore, much to his distress; but then he knew positively it was there, and when the time came to change their course directly into the west a brief flight would carry them over the land. it really mattered little to him where they made their landing, since he would be able to find a way of reaching bridgeton within a few hours. he consulted his little wrist watch again and again. tom was more than a little amused to see jack even clap it close to his ear. he knew the reason of his doing this, for time was crawling on so slowly in the estimation of the impatient one that he even suspected the faithful little watch had ceased to go, though its steady ticking must have speedily assured him such could not possibly be the case. "listen!" lieutenant beverly suddenly called out. a strange weird sound came faintly to their ears. even above all the noise of their working engine they could make it out. to any one who came from the interior of the country it might have seemed a bewildering sound, and have called up strange fancies connected with marine monsters that were said to have once inhabited these waters near the gulf stream. but the trio of voyagers had lived too long near the coast not to recognize a fog-siren when they heard its strident call. jack in particular was exultant. "tell me, is that the anchored light-ship's siren, tom, do you think?" he demanded, with considerable excitement. the pilot nodded his head, and with a finger pointed to a dot on the chart to indicate that it could be nothing else. "i presume, tom," jack went on to say, "you came down when you did partly to catch that sound as we came near the shoals where the lightship stands guard day and night the whole year through." "well, i had that in mind," came the answer, "for, as i said before, while feeling pretty sure of my bearings i thought i'd like to have them verified. and now you can see i wasn't much out of the way." "you've done splendidly, tom," said beverly, clapping the other heartily on the back. "we've all carried ourselves like true americans through this whole affair; and it'll afford us considerable satisfaction when we look back on the wonderful trip." "and now, tom, hadn't we better turn toward the shore?" asked jack. "just as soon as we get over the lightship i will know how to steer, jack. keep cool, and before long you'll be looking down on our beloved virginia once again." "you make me mighty happy when you say that, tom. many times i've wondered if i'd ever see it again, we've been overseas so long and in so many perils while doing our duty. how fine it'll be to stand once more on the soil where both of us were born, and know we've done a pretty big thing in crossing the atlantic by the new air route!" they fell silent again after that, but not for long. louder and clearer came the frequent long-drawn wails of the steam fog-horn, until finally it seemed evident they were almost exactly above the lightship that, as tom knew, was anchored on the shoals to warn mariners of their danger by means of a far-reaching lamp and the powerful siren's hoarse voice. "now we'll strike in for the land!" called out tom, his announcement causing jack to thrill with delight, while beverly too showed his pleasure in broad smiles. soon afterwards they were speeding due west, with jack gluing his eyes to his glasses and reporting every few minutes fresh signs of vast importance. virginia soon lay beneath them, to announce that they had completed their wonderful flight across the atlantic. chapter xxiii the end of the flight no longer did the fog enfold them in its damp grasp. after leaving the immediate coast behind them the last trace of it disappeared. jack refused to take his entranced eyes from the binoculars for a single minute. he felt a hundred-fold repaid for all the perils encountered during the memorable flight from the shore of france, during which they had spanned the vast area of the atlantic, and were now sailing peacefully along above the home soil. lieutenant beverly made an announcement just then that startled them. "we must look for a place to drop down without any further loss of time!" he called out to tom, who was still serving as pilot. "but it would be mighty fine," jack observed wistfully, "if only we might keep going on until we got a few miles out of bridgeton. i know every rod of territory for miles around and could point out a dandy level field to make our landing in. we'd be able to descend without observation, too, i really believe." "that'd surely be nice, jack," beverly told him, "and i wish we could accommodate you. but the fact is we're about out of gas! i noted this a short time ago, but said nothing, because it would do no good to throw a scare into you both. besides, tom had already headed direct for the land at the time." "how lucky that didn't happen when we were a hundred miles out at sea!" tom exclaimed, his first thought being one of satisfaction, rather than useless complaint. this was characteristic of tom, always seeing the bright side of things, no matter how gloomy they appeared to others. "then i'd better be looking for a landing-place," jack quickly remarked, getting over his little disappointment. "and the sooner we duck the better," beverly admitted. "if the motors go back on us we'll be in a bad fix; and volplaning to the ground isn't always as easy as it's pictured, especially when you've no choice of a landing." "after all, it does not matter so very much," jack concluded. "surely once we succeed in gaining a footing we can discover a means for getting to our goal without much loss of time." he bent his energies toward looking for what would seem to be a promising open spot, where there would not be apt to be any pitfalls or traps waiting to wreck their plane, and possibly endanger their lives. "scrub woods all below us, tom!" he announced. "but there must be openings here and there," the pilot told him. "if only the field seems long enough to admit of our coming to a stop, we'd better take chances." "nothing yet, sorry to say," called out jack. "suppose you drop lower, tom," suggested beverly. "if we skirt the tops of the taller trees we'll be better able to see without depending on the glasses. all three of us can be on the lookout at the same time." tom considered that a good idea and he lost no time in carrying it out. it was easier now to take particular note of the ground; but they passed over mile after mile of the scrub without discovering what they most earnestly sought. "things are getting down to a fine point, tom," warned beverly. "our gas is on its last legs, and any minute now we'll find ourselves without motive power." "it must change soon," the pilot told them. "this scrub forest has got to give way to rising ground and open spaces." "but if it doesn't, what then?" asked jack. "i hate to think of crashing down into those trees," tom admitted. "we've just got to get over being too particular. several places we let pass us might have answered our purpose. look ahead, jack, and tell me if there doesn't seem to be some sort of open spot lying there." jack gave a whoop. "here we are!" he cried exultantly. "it's an opening in the scrub timber, a big gash too, for a fact! why, already i can see that it looks like a level green field. how queer it should be lying right there, as if it might be meant for us." "you don't glimpse any other chance further on, do you, jack?" continued the pilot. "never a thing, tom. just a continuation of those same old dwarf oak trees. but why do you ask that? what's the matter with this fine big gap?" "i'm afraid it's a marsh, and not a dry field!" tom answered. "but all the same i presume we'll have to chance it. better to strike a bog than to fall into those trees, where the lot of us might be killed." "suppose we circle around, and try to find the best place for a descent," proposed beverly. all of them strained their eyes to try to see better. unfortunately a cloud passed over the sun just then, rendering it difficult to make sure of anything. "what's the verdict?" sang out tom presently, keeping a wary eye on the straining motors. "looks to me as if that further part might be the highest ground," was jack's decision. "i agree with you there!" instantly echoed beverly. "that settles it! here goes to make the try," tom announced, again swinging in and shutting off all power. he continued to glide downward, approaching the ground at a certain point which he had picked but with his highly trained eye as apparently the best location for the landing. suspecting what might happen, tom held back until the very last, so that the big bombing plane was not going at much speed when its wheels came in contact with the ground for the first time. something happened speedily, for it proved to be a bog, and as the rubber-tired wheels sank in and could not be propelled, the natural result followed that the nose of the giant plane was buried in the soft ground, and they came to an abrupt stop. tom was the first to crawl forth, and beverly followed close upon his heels. the third member of the party did not seem as ready to report, which fact alarmed his chum. "jack, what's wrong with you?" he called out, starting to climb aboard the smashed plane again. "nothing so very much, i think; but i seem to be all twisted up in this broken gear, and can hardly move," came the answer. tom secretly hoped it was not a broken arm or leg instead. he started to feel around, and soon managed to get the other free from the broken ends of the wire stays that had somehow hindered his escape. together they crawled out, to find lieutenant beverly feeling himself all over as if trying to discover what the extent of his damages were. "try to see if you've been injured any way seriously, jack," begged his anxious chum, still unconvinced. an investigation disclosed the marvelous fact that all of them had managed to come through the smashing landing with but a small amount of damage. when this was ascertained without any doubt jack started to prance around, unable to contain himself within bounds. "excuse me if i act a little looney, fellows!" he begged. "fact is, i'm just keyed up to topnotch and something will give way unless i let off steam a bit." with that he yelled and laughed and cheered until his breath gave out. neither of the others felt any inclination to try to stop his antics. truth to tell, they were tempted to egg jack on, because he was really expressing in his own fashion something of the same exultation that all of them felt. the great flight had been carried through, and here they were landed on the soil of america, three young aviators who but a few days before had been serving their country on the fighting-front in northern france. yes, the atlantic had been successfully bridged by a heavier-than-air plane, and from the time of leaving france until this minute their feet had not once pressed any soil; for that ice-pack in mid-atlantic could not be counted against them, since it too was nothing but congealed water. "but the poor old bomber! it's ruined, colin, i'm afraid," jack finally managed to say, when he sank down from his exertions. "that's a small matter," beverly assured him. "the main thing is that we did what we set out to do, and proved that the dream of all real airmen could be made to come true. we may live to see a procession of monster boats of the air setting out for over-seas daily, carrying passengers, as well as mail and express matter." "yes," said tom gravely, and yet with a pardonable trace of pride in voice and manner, "the atlantic has been conquered, and saddled, and bridled, like any wild broncho of the plains. but hadn't we better be thinking of getting out of this soft marshy tract?" "as quickly as we possibly can," jack told him. "we'll try to run across some virginia farmer, black or white, who will have a horse and agree to take us to the nearest railroad station. once we hit civilization, the rest will be easy." "what about the plane, colin?" asked tom. "it can stay here for the time being," the other answered him. "later on i'll hire some one to have it hauled out and stored against my coming back--after we've been a while in berlin and got heine to behaving himself." they secured such things as it was desirable they should keep. acting on tom's advice everything that might testify to their identity was also removed, lest the bogged plane be accidentally discovered and betray them. afterwards they set out to find a way beyond the borders of the marsh and scrub oaks, to some place where possibly they might get assistance. chapter xxiv surprising bridgeton "here's the end of the marshy tract," tom said, after they had been floundering around for some little time. "how fine it feels to be on solid ground again," jack observed, stamping his feet as though he really enjoyed the sensation. indeed, after being for such a long time, weary hours after hours, confined in the big bombing plane, the relief was greatly appreciated by both tom raymond and lieutenant beverly, as well as by jack parmly. "now for the home town!" the last mentioned told his companions. "and as near as i can figure it out there's not a ghost of a chance that cousin randolph could have arrived before me." "for that matter i'm sure the french steamer must be still far out at sea, with a day or two's journey ahead of her," colin assured him. "then it's my game, provided we don't run across some u. s. army authorities who'd want to know our names and hold us for investigation, which would knock everything flat." "we're going to try to avoid all that bother," beverly assured him. "it isn't going to make us feel very proud of our achievement, since we have to hide our light under a bushel; but for one i don't regret it. no matter if we have to be punished for desertion, our motive was honorable; and they never will be able to deny us the credit of having made the longest flight on record in a heavier-than-air machine." "all the same," urged tom, "i'd rather keep quiet about that stunt, for the present at least. i want to go back and finish the work over there. if the huns are going to be driven to the rhine we ought to be doing our duty by uncle sam; which we couldn't if shut up in the government penitentiary at fort leavenworth, awaiting trial as deserters." "here's a plain trail that may lead us out of this region of scrub oaks, and to some farmer's place!" the lieutenant exclaimed just then; and in their eagerness to get in touch with some one who would take them to the railroad they talked no further concerning the great flight and its possible serious consequences to them. half an hour afterwards they came to the home of a farmer, who was trying to make a living out of his isolated holdings, eking it out, as he informed them while his wife was getting up the best meal possible, by doing some terrapin hunting, and even trapping muskrats and such fur-bearing animals during the otherwise unprofitable winter months. it was very comfortable to sit down once more to a table after being so long taking "snacks" at odd hours, and being cramped in the bombing plane. and as the farmer's wife had plenty of fresh eggs, which they told her not to stint, the generous omelet she produced was fully appreciated, flanked as it was by rashers of pretty fair bacon. there were also some freshly made soda biscuits which had a true old-fashioned southern taste, appreciated by tom and jack. lieutenant beverly did not show any great liking for them; but he was a northerner, brought up on baking-powder biscuits, so the others could understand his want of appreciation. taken all in all, they certainly enjoyed that first bite ashore after the completion of their memorable flight across the atlantic. jack, so tom said, seemed to think it was a sort of celebration because of the event, for his face was wreathed in a perpetual smile. "the sort of smile," jack retorted, "that won't come off." "oh, how good i do feel!" was a remark that if he made it once he did a dozen times, always finding it greeted by answering nods on the part of his two companions. of course they told the farmer they were aviators who had had the misfortune to drop into the marsh, where he would find their plane. beverly hired him to dismantle this in part, and store it away in his shed until later on it could be called for in person. he was not to deliver it to any person without the presence of one of the trio. when he started out to drive them in his old rickety vehicle to the nearest railroad station, miles distant, he was almost stricken dumb because beverly, in the fulness of his gratitude over their marvelous escape, thrust a full hundred dollars upon him, with a promise of a like amount later on for looking after the abandoned bombing plane. "to-day is marked with a white stone in the life of farmer jenkins, believe me," jack whispered aside to tom, as they saw the amazed look spreading over the man's weather-beaten face. "it's that with all of us," said tom soberly. jack fell silent after that. he was engrossed with thoughts connected with his unexpected return to the home of his childhood; and in imagination could see the excitement their unheralded appearance was certain to arouse. it had been arranged between them that their presence must be kept as much a secret as possible. on this account they would delay their arrival at the home of jack's mother until after darkness had set in. "to-morrow," jack had said, when these things were being discussed, "we'll telegraph to mr. smedley in richmond to come on without delay in connection with my dead uncle's estate, ready to settle it according to the provisions of his queer will. then we'll be ready for randolph when he bobs up." beverly had also made a suggestion when they were thus talking it all over, and arranging plans after their usual way. "now i've got a good friend who lives on staten island, right in new york harbor," he informed them. "often while at his house visiting i've amused myself with a glass watching steamers pass through the narrows lying between the shore of the island and that part of brooklyn opposite fort wadsworth. i'll wire him to let me know by the same means when _la bretagne_ reaches quarantine in the harbor." "a clever idea, colin!" tom cried. "in that way we can figure out just when jack's cousin might expect to arrive in bridgeton to claim the estate as being the first one on the ground, thanks to that silly provision of the old man's will." "given two hours to get off the vessel, after the time she reaches quarantine," jack figured, "and six more to get to richmond makes eight in all. then he might be two hours getting out to bridgeton, for trains are not very plentiful. he could make it in that time if he took a roadster with a chauffeur and came that way. ten hours in all." "we'll be lying in wait for randolph, all right!" laughed beverly. "and what a surprise it'll be! the man must think he's dreaming, having left you over in france, jack, on the fighting front when he sailed, with not one chance in a thousand that you could catch even the next boat, days later, and then finding you here ahead of him!" the prospect pleased them all so much that they made light of the merciless jostling received in that springless wagon over wretched virginia shore roads. in fact, they were so elated over the great success that had rewarded their daring venture that it seemed just then as if nothing could ever again make them feel blue, or depressed in spirits. in due time the lonely little station was reached. it was then two in the afternoon of that eventful day. just as tom anticipated, it turned out that there would not be a train in the direction they wished to go for two hours and more. this train would drop them at another station where a connection was made with the road that ran through bridgeton. it was lucky they found themselves in no hurry, thanks, as jack naively remarked, to their having come across "on the air-line limited." the time dragged to jack, naturally, but he felt he had no reason for complaint after such wonderful good fortune. at last their train came along. what if it was ten minutes late? that would only shorten their wait at the junction. "so long as we reach the old town by nine tonight i'll be satisfied," jack had bravely committed himself by saying; and indeed it was just about then they did jump from the steps of the car at bridgeton, for the second train had been two hours late. nevertheless all of them were united in thinking they had made a swift trip from the american sector of the fighting front in france to the town of bridgeton in the old dominion in just _four complete days_. jack led the way, though, of course, tom would have been just as competent a guide, since this was also his home town. how those blinking lights in the well-remembered windows of the parmly home held jack's eyes, once he sighted them! never before in all his life had he felt such a delicious thrill creep over him from head to toe. knocking on the door he and his chums carried out their pre-arranged plan. jack and tom were to keep back out of sight, leaving lieutenant beverly to break the glorious news first and prepare the family, so there might not be so loud an outcry as to arouse the neighbors and breed the excitement in the community that neither of the returned fighters wished. jack's aunt, who, a widow herself, made her home with her widowed sister-in-law, came to the door, for some reason or other. perhaps the negro servants still went home at night, as had been the case before jack went to the war. she looked surprised and anxious as soon as she saw that the caller was a stranger, and evidently an aviator from his dress. "this is mrs. parmly, i believe?" the visitor hastened to say. "mrs. job parmly. mrs. parmly's sister-in-law." "i see. mrs. parmly, my name is beverly, lieutenant beverly of the united states aerial corps, just over from france. i am a good friend of your nephew, jack, who has entrusted a message to me to deliver to his mother. may i come in for a short time, mrs. parmly?" he was immediately warmly greeted and drawn into the sitting-room where he met jack's mother. the two outside could peep under the drawn shade and watch all that went on, jack quivering with emotion as he looked on the beloved faces of his own people once again. beverly knew how eager the boy must be, and hence he lost little time in getting down to the main fact, which was that he wished them not to do anything to arouse curiosity in the neighborhood; but that jack was near by, and all would be soon explained; also that they must not be troubled thinking he, jack, had done anything really wrong. when he had drawn down the shades fully, that being the signal to those outside, jack could restrain himself no longer. opening the front door he rushed into the house and quickly had his mother and then his aunt in his arms. the story was told at length, with the family clustered around jack and tom, hanging on every word as though it were the most thrilling thing they had ever heard, which in truth it must be. then tom had to be considered. lieutenant beverly volunteered to go over to the raymond house, which could easily be pointed out to him, and bring back the startled family, so they could greet their boy, whom they, of course, supposed to be at that very moment still overseas, risking his life in his perilous calling. it seemed to tom that the delight of once more greeting these loved ones well repaid him for all he had passed through in making that wonderful flight. the story had to be all gone over again, and scores of questions answered. by degrees the scope of jack's plan was grasped by his family, who of course knew about the strange conditions of joshua kinkaid's will, whereby the bulk of his large estate, long before promised to the parmlys, would go without restrictions to either randolph carringford or jack parmly, according to which of them, after the death of the testator, appeared before a notary public specified in bridgeton, and qualified to assume the trust. so, too, the plan of campaign designed to confound the arch-schemer who had even plotted to keep jack from ever applying in person, was agreed to. the presence of the three was to be kept a dead secret. they would not go out of the house by daylight, even for a breath of air. in the morning the old family lawyer, who had also served mr. kinkaid in a similar capacity, would be sent for to come hurriedly. once he arrived, the stage would be set for carrying out the provisions of the queer will, which tom considered might hardly have stood the test of a contest in court, though later on the lawyer, mr. smedley, who had himself carefully drawn it up, assured him it was really an iron-bound document. "but," jack said, as they waited for the lawyer's coming on the noon train from richmond, "we can spare a couple of days here, and still make the steamer we hope to sail on for the other side. and it would be too bad if we missed seeing how dear cousin randolph takes his waterloo." mr. smedley arrived, and was astounded to see jack. he showed that his sympathies were on the side of the parmly family by his delight when shaking hands again and again. then the thrilling story was once more told, after he had been bound to secrecy. it would be hard to describe the emotions of the old lawyer as he sat and listened to what a great feat jack and his two comrades had carried through. after that all arrangements were made, and the lawyer decided to stay to see the thing through. it was the most astonishing event in all his life, he assured the company, and not for a fortune would he miss the scene that must accompany the coming of randolph carringford. mr. smedley also sent a long telegram to that friend of colin beverly's who lived on staten island. later that same day a reply was received promising to carry out faithfully the instructions given, if he had to sit up all night keeping watch on all vessels arriving, though if port rules were rigorously carried out no steamer would be allowed to enter or leave except by daylight. "but we know that isn't the case," tom said, "because those troop ships have left new york under cover of darkness many a time. still, the ships may have waited down the bay until morning, and then sailed." that day passed, and the following night. early on the morning of the third day after jack's arrival home came a telegram to mr. smedley. "now for news!" cried jack, as it was opened. the message was brief and to the point, affording them all the intelligence they required. "_la bretagne_ at quarantine eleven to-night; expected to dock in two hours!" chapter xxv to see the war through--conclusion "rap-rap-rap!" it was just at two that afternoon, and the train from richmond had arrived ten minutes previously. those within had seen a station hack deposit some one at the parmly gate. mrs. parmly herself answered the summons, the colored servants having been given an unexpected but welcome holiday when they appeared for work that same morning, in order to keep them from making discoveries. "good afternoon, aunt," said the smooth-tongued visitor, starting to enter without waiting for an invitation. "i learned after getting to richmond this morning that mr. smedley had come out to visit you; an occurrence which makes it convenient for me." when he entered the sitting-room he found only jack's aunt and the lawyer there, jack and tom and lieutenant beverly being in an adjoining room, but with the connecting door ajar, so they could catch every word spoken and enjoy the dramatic situation to the utmost, being ready to step in when the crisis arrived. carringford proceeded to shake hands with the lawyer, after greeting mrs. parmly effusively. there was a smile as of triumph on his sallow face. "glad to find you here in bridgeton, mr. smedley," randolph again said, his voice like oil and his manner confident and condescending. "i received the notification from you when over in france working in a secret capacity for the government." "yes," remarked the lawyer, "i sent both out as required." "must say," continued carringford, "i wasn't much surprised, because i always knew uncle joshua to be a queer old duck. realizing that unless i got a move on me and beat cousin jack home i'd stand to lose out in the game i managed to get passage on the _la bretagne_, of the french line. docked at one last night, couldn't get a train till morning; but here i am, sir, ready to convince you that, being the first on the ground, my claim is perfectly valid." he evidently expected that his coming would have produced something akin to consternation in the parmly family, and must have wondered how they could meet bitter disappointment with such smiling faces. "you have made very good time in crossing, randolph," remarked the lawyer calmly, "considering the tempestuous times, and need of caution on account of the u-boats. i should say that the french steamer surpassed her record." "and that being the case," resumed the other, smiling still as a winner at the races might do when handed his stake ten times multiplied, "since i'm here on the ground first, and you are the lawyer in the matter, what's to hinder our completing the formalities necessary to put me in possession of my great uncle's estate, according to his last will and testament?" "the only stumbling-block that i'm aware of, randolph," said mr. smedley suavely, "is a little matter of priority." "but i am the first to appear before you, mr. smedley, and there were but two contestants for the property. isn't that true?" demanded the newcomer, frowning at the thought that some unexpected legal tangle was about to appear. "you are perfectly right in one thing, randolph," continued the lawyer. "the race was to be between you and jack. i must say you have made very good time getting over here. but in spite of your speed, randolph, you are showing up somewhat late. in fact, the affair is all over, and i have started proceedings looking to conveying the property to the one undoubtedly presenting the prior claim." the other was thunderstruck. "impossible, i tell you, smedley!" he burst out. "with my own eyes i saw jack parmly over there at the front in france when i hurried to the port to embark on _la bretagne_. he was not aboard that ship, i can take my oath, and another couldn't arrive in new york for days. so you have no other resource but to admit my claim to be just, and hand over what belongs to me. i demand it, sir." "not so fast, randolph," begged the lawyer. "a little more moderation. you have made some sort of miscalculation i fear." with these words he stamped his foot. recognizing the signal, jack stepped blithely into the sitting-room, followed by tom and beverly. his appearance almost caused carringford to "have a fit," as jack afterwards described the effect of his coming on the scene. "what does this mystery mean?" he managed to gasp. "only that i took a notion to come home and claim that legacy left by our eccentric uncle joshua," jack told him, with a shrug of his shoulders, as though miracles were an every-day occurrence with him. "but i certainly saw you again and again, and heard you talk at the same time just before i left for havre to sail!" cried randolph, nevertheless convinced that at least this was the real flesh-and-blood jack parmly standing before him. "oh! did you?" remarked jack, mockingly. "perhaps it was a dream. perhaps i had an understudy over there. perhaps a whole lot of things. but the one positive fact about which there isn't any doubt is that i'm here ahead of you, and you've lost out in your game, that's all." "but--it's impossible, incredible!" continued the other, hardly able yet to believe his own eyes. "still, you must admit that i'm jack parmly, and quite in the flesh, which after all is enough to settle the matter," he was calmly told. "my family here have received me as their own; and mr. smedley had no trouble in recognizing me. so perhaps you'd better be packing your grip again, cousin randolph, and returning to your secret government duties over in france!" "but--how could you have reached here so far ahead of me?" gritted the disgusted randolph weakly. "please don't forget that i'm an aviator, and we fliers are able to put over all sorts of stunts these days," laughed jack; though his manner implied that he might be joking when saying this. at any rate, it could not enter the mind of any one to believe such a thing as flying across the atlantic within the bounds of reason. carringford of course saw that his room was more desired than his company. besides, he had not heart or desire to linger any longer, since he had received such a staggering blow. accordingly he took his departure, and acted quite like a "bear with a sore head," as jack described his ugly way of slamming the door and hurrying out to the station hack that had been all this while waiting for him at the gate. now that the one great object which jack had in view was accomplished, he and the other two began to consider the best way in which they could return to france without attracting too much attention. "i have a scheme that may work admirably," said beverly. "and it happens that the boat my good old friend is master of is due to sail from new york the day after to-morrow. we'll go on that as stowaways." then, seeing the look of astonishment and also bewilderment that came into the faces of his hearers, he went on to explain further. "of course i don't use that word in the usual sense of getting aboard unknown to any of the officers, perhaps through the complicity of a member of the crew, and hiding ourselves among the cargo. such stowaways are a scarcity nowadays, the peril of torpedoes having given them cold feet. but i believe i can fix it with my friend the captain so that he'll allow us to remain aboard without our names appearing on the passenger list." "sounds good to me," asserted jack, while tom said thoughtfully: "i suppose we could stick to our staterooms during the day, and only go on deck late at night, when nearly everybody was asleep. like as not, there'd be quite a number of army officers aboard, so we mightn't be noticed if any one ran against us while taking the air at night." accordingly this plan was settled upon; and as they were not absolutely certain about the time of sailing, with much still to be done before that event took place, once again did tom and jack have to bid their relatives good-bye. "it'll not be for so very long now, let's hope," said tom's father, as he squeezed his son's hand at parting; "for germany is on her last legs, and unless all signs fail the war must soon come to an end." "besides," added lieutenant beverly, "none of us is likely to try to repeat the little flight we just carried through. we feel as if we can rest on our well earned laurels." "and it'll be some time, i firmly believe," said mr. raymond, "before your wonderful feat is duplicated, or even approached." but then, of course, he could not foresee how even before the peace treaty had been signed a number of ambitious aviators would actually cross the atlantic, one crew in a huge heavier-than-air machine, another in an american seaplane, and still a third aboard a mighty dirigible, making the passages with but a day or so intervening between flights. when a certain steamship left new york harbor one morning soon afterwards three pairs of eyes took a parting look through a porthole in their united stateroom at the statue of liberty on bedloe's island. of course the occupants of the stateroom were tom and jack and colin. they had managed to interest the big-hearted captain in their scheme. he knew that he must not appear to be connected with such an escapade; but such was his admiration for their wonderful achievement, as well as his friendship for lieutenant beverly, that he readily consented to help them. "and so here we are," jack observed, after they had passed out from sandy hook and were heading across toward troubled europe, "going back to duty, before our leave of absence will have expired, and the three weeks already nearly half over. let's only hope we can slip into the traces as if nothing unusual had happened and that mad flight was only an aviator's day dream." "it's a pleasure, too," added tom reflectively, with a glance at his chum, "to know that there are loyal hearts waiting to greet us again over there where the shells are bursting. for of course nellie and bessie, not to mention harry leroy, will be counting the days anxiously until we show up. little do they suspect all we've been through; and we'll have to bind them to secrecy when taking them into the game." "h'm!" chuckled lieutenant beverly, "perhaps there's a little salvation army lassie i, myself, will be glad to see again. don't fancy you two have cornered the whole market of fine girls. there are others over there!" so we will leave them, only hoping that at some other day we may once more meet tom and jack and colin, and accompany them through other activities. the boy scout aviators by george durston chapter i serious news "as long as i can't be at home," said harry fleming, "i'd rather be here than anywhere in the world i can think of!" "rather!" said his companion, dick mercer. "i say, harry, it must be funny to be an american!" harry laughed heartily. "i'd be angry, dick," he said, finally, "if that wasn't so english--and so funny! still, i suppose that's one reason you britishers are as big an empire as you are. you think it's sort of funny and a bit of a misfortune, don't you, to be anything but english?" "oh, i say, i didn't quite mean that," said dick, flushing a little. "and of course you americans aren't just like foreigners. you speak the same language we do--though you do say some funny things now and then, old chap. you know, i was ever so surprised when you came to mr. grenfel and he let you in our troop right away!" "didn't you even know we had boy scouts in america?" asked harry. "my word as you english would say. that is the limit! why, it's spread all over the country with us. but of course we all know that it started here--that baden-powell thought of the idea!" "rather!" said dick, enthusiastically. "good old bathing-towel! that's what they used to call him at school, you know, before he ever went into the army at all. and it stuck to him, they say, right through. even after mafeking he was called that. now, of course, he's a lieutenant general, and all sorts of a swell. he and kitchener and french are so big they don't get called nicknames much more." "well, i'll tell you what i think," said harry, soberly. "i think he did a bigger thing for england when he started the boy scout movement than when he defended mafeking against the boers!" "why, how can you make that out?" asked dick, puzzled. "the defence of mafeking had a whole lot to do with our winning that war!" "that's all right, too," said harry. "but you know you may be in a bigger war yet than that boer war ever thought of being." "how can a war think, you chump?" asked the literal-minded dick. again harry roared at him. "that's just one of our funny american ways of saying things, dick," he explained. "i didn't mean that, of course. but what i do mean is that every-one over here in europe seems to think that there will be a big war sometime--a bigger war than the world's ever seen yet." "oh, yes!" dick nodded his understanding, and grew more serious. "my pater--he's a v. c., you know--says that, too. he says we'll have to fight germany, sooner or later. and he seems to think the sooner the better, too, before they get too big and strong for us to have an easy time with them." "they're too big now for any nation to have an easy time with them," said harry. "but you see what i mean now, don't you, dick? we boy scouts aren't soldiers in any way. but we do learn to do the things a soldier has to do, don't we?" "yes, that's true," said dick. "but we aren't supposed to think of that." "of course not, and it's right, too," agreed harry. "but we learn to be obedient. we learn discipline. and we get to understand camp life, and the open air, and all the things a soldier has to know about, sooner or later. suppose you were organizing a regiment. which would you rather have--a thousand men who were brave and willing, but had never camped out, or a thousand who had been boy scouts and knew about half the things soldiers have to learn? which thousand men would be ready to go to the front first?" "i never thought of that!" said dick, mightily impressed. "but you're right, harry. the boy scouts wouldn't go to war themselves, but the fellows who were grown up and in business and had been boy scouts would be a lot readier than the others, wouldn't they? i suppose that's why so many of our chaps join the territorials when they are through school and start in business?" "of course it is! you've got the idea i'm driving at, dick. and you can depend on it that general baden-powell had that in his mind's eye all the time, too. he doesn't want us to be military and aggressive, but he does want the empire to have a lot of fellows on call who are hard and fit, so that they can defend themselves and the country. you see, in america, and here in england, too, we're not like the countries on the continent. we don't make soldiers of every man in the country." "no--by jove, they do that, don't they, harry? i've got a, cousin who's french. and he expects to serve his term in the army. he's in the class of . you see, he knows already when he will have to go, and just where he will report--almost the regiment he'll join. but he's hoping they'll let him be in the cavalry, instead of the infantry or the artillery." "there you are! here and in america, we don't have to have such tremendous armies, because we haven't got countries that we may have to fight across the street--you know what i mean. england has to have a tremendous navy, but that makes it unnecessary for her to have such a big army." "i see you've got the idea exactly, fleming," said a new voice, breaking into the conversation. the two scouts looked up to see the smiling face of their scoutmaster, john grenfel. he was a big, bronzed englishman, sturdy and typical of the fine class to which he belonged--public school and university man, first-class cricketer and a football international who had helped to win many a hard fought game for england from wales or scotland or ireland. the scouts were returning from a picnic on wimbledon common, in the suburbs of london, and grenfel was following his usual custom of dropping into step now with one group, now with another. he favored the idea of splitting up into groups of two or three on the homeward way, because it was his idea that one of the great functions of the scout movement was to foster enduring friendships among the boys. he liked to know, without listening or trying to overhear, what the boys talked about; often he would give a directing word or two, that, without his purpose becoming apparent, shaped the ideas of the boys. "yes," he repeated. "you understand what we're trying to do in this country, fleming. we don't want to fight--we pray to god that we shall never have to. but, if we are attacked, or if the necessity arises, we'll be ready, as we have been ready before. we want peace--we want it so much and so earnestly that we'll fight for it if we must." neither of the boys laughed at what sounded like a paradox. his voice was too earnest. "do you think england is likely to have to go to war soon--within a year or so, sir?" asked harry. "i pray not," said grenfel. "but we don't know, fleming. for the last few years--ever since the trouble in the balkans finally flamed up--europe has been on the brink of a volcano. we don't know what the next day may bring forth. i've been afraid--" he stopped, suddenly, and seemed to consider. "there is danger now," he said, gravely. "since the archduke franz ferdinand of austria was assassinated, austria has been in an ugly mood. she has tried to blame servia. i don't think russia will let her crush servia--not a second time. and if russia and austria fight there is no telling how it may spread." "you'd want us to win, wouldn't you, harry, if we fought?" asked dick, when mr. grenfel had passed on to speak to some of the others. "yes, i think i would--i know i would, dick," said harry, gravely. "but i wouldn't want to see a war, just the same. it's a terrible thing." "on, it wouldn't last long," said dick, confidently. "we'd lick them in no time at all. don't you think so?" "i don't know--i hope so. but you can't ever be sure." "i wonder if they'd let us fight?" "no, i don't think they would, dick. there'd be plenty for the boy scouts to do though, i believe." "would you stay over here if there was a war, harry? or would you go home?" "i think we'd have to stay over here, dick. you see, my father is here on business, not just for pleasure. his company sent him over here, and it was understood he'd stay several years. i don't think the war could make any difference." "that's why you're here, then, is it? i used to wonder why you went to school over here instead of in america." "yes. my father and mother didn't want me to be so far from them. so they brought me along. i was awfully sorry at first, but now it doesn't seem so bad." "i should think not!" said dick, indignantly. "i should think anyone would be mighty glad of a chance to come to school over here instead of in america! why, you don't even play cricket over there, i've been told!" "no, but we play baseball," said harry, his eyes shining. "i really think i miss that more than anything else here in england. cricket's all right--if you can't play baseball. it's a good enough game." "you can play," admitted dick, rather grudgingly. "when you bowl, you've got some queer way of making the ball seem to bend--" "i put a curve on it, that's all!" said harry, with a laugh. "if you'd ever played baseball, you'd understand that easily enough. see? you hold the ball like this--so that your fingers give it a spin as it leaves your hand." and he demonstrated for his english friend's benefit the way the ball is held to produce an out-curve. "your bowlers here don't seem to do that--though they do make the ball break after it hits the ground. but the way i manage it, you see, is to throw a ball that doesn't hit the ground in front of the bat at all, but curves in. if you don't hit at it, it will hit the stumps and bowl you out; if you do hit, you're likely to send it straight up in the air, so that some fielder can catch it." "i see," said dick. "well, i suppose it's all right, but it doesn't seem quite fair." harry laughed, but didn't try to explain the point further. he liked dick immensely; dick was the first friend he had made in england, and the best, so far. it was dick who had tried to get him to join the boy scouts, and who had been immensely surprised to find that harry was already a scout. harry, indeed, had done two years of scouting in america; he had been one of the first members of a troop in his home town, and had won a number of merit badges. he was a first-class scout, and, had he stayed with his troop, would certainly have become a patrol leader. so he had had no trouble in getting admission to the patrol to which dick belonged. it had been hard for harry, when his father's business called him to england, to give up a all the friendships and associations of his boyhood. had been hard to leave school; to tear up, by the roots, all the things that bound him to his home. but as a scout he had learned to be loyal and obedient. his parents had talked things over with him very frankly. they had understood just how hard it would be for him to go with them. but his father had made him see how necessary it was. "i want you to be near your mother and myself just now, especially, harry," he had said. "i want you to grow up where i can see you. and, more-over, it won't hurt you a bit to know something about other countries. you'll have a new idea of america when you have seen other lands, and i believe you'll be a better american for it. you'll learn that other countries have their virtues, and that we can learn some things from them. but i believe you'll learn, too, to love america better than ever. when we go home you'll be broader and better for your experience." and harry was finding out that his father had been right. at first he had to put up with a good deal. he found that the english boys he met in school felt themselves a little superior. they didn't look down on him, exactly, but they were, perhaps the least bit sorry for him because he was not an englishman, always a real misfortune in their sight. he had resented that at first. but his boy scout training stood him in good stead. he kept his temper, and it was not long before he began to make friends. he excelled at games; even the english games that were new and strange to him presented few difficulties to him. as he had explained to dick, cricket was easy for any boy who could play baseball fairly well. and it was the same way with football. after the far more strenuous american game, he shone at the milder english football, the rugby game, which is the direct ancestor of the sport in america. all these things helped to make harry popular. he was now nearly sixteen, tall and strong for his age, thanks to the outdoor life he had always lived. an only son, he and his father had always been good friends. without being in any way a molly-coddle, still he had been kept safe from a good many of the temptations that beset some boys by the constant association with his father. it was no wonder, therefore, that john grenfel, as soon as he had talked with harry and learned of the credentials he bore from his home troop, had welcomed him enthusiastically as a recruit to his own troop. it had been necessary to modify certain rules. harry, of course, could not subscribe to quite the same scout oath that bound his english fellows. but he had taken his scout oath as a tenderfoot at home, and grenfel had no doubts about him. he was the sort of boy the organization wanted, whether in england or america, and that was enough for grenfel. though the boys, as they walked toward their homes, did not quite realize it, they were living in days that were big with fate. far away, in the chancelleries of europe, and, not so far away, in the big government buildings in the west end of london, the statesmen were even then making their best effort to avert war. no one in england, perhaps, really believed that war was coming. there had been war scares before. but the peace of europe had been preserved for forty years or more, through one crisis after another. and so it was a stunning surprise, even to grenfel, when, as they came into putney high street, just before they reached putney bridge, they met a swam of newsboys excitedly shrieking extras. "germany threatens russia!" they yelled. "war sure!" mr. grenfel brought a paper, and the scouts gathered about him while he read the news that was contained on the front page, still damp from the press. "i'm afraid it's true," he said, soberly. "the german emperor has threatened to go to war with russia, unless the czar stops mobilizing his troops at once. we shall know tonight. but i think it means war! god save england may still keep out of it!" for that night a meeting at mr. grenfel's home in west kensington had long been planned. he lived not far from the street in which both harry and dick lived. and, as the party broke up, on the other side of putney bridge, dick, voicing the general feeling, asked a question. "are we to come tonight, sir?" he said. "with this news--?" "yes--yes, indeed," said the scoutmaster. "if war is to come, there is all the more reason for us to be together. england may need all of us yet." dick had asked the question because, like all the others, he felt something that was in the air. he was sobered by the news, although, like the rest, he did not yet fully understand it. but they all felt that there had been a change. as they looked about at the familiar sight about them they wondered if, a year from then, everything would still be the same. war? what did it mean to them, to england? "i wonder if my father will go to war!" dick broke out suddenly, as he and harry walked along. "i hadn't thought of that!" said harry, startled. "oh, dick, i'm sorry! still, i suppose he'll go, if his country needs him!" chapter ii quick work at home, harry had an early dinner with his father and mother, who were going to the theatre. they lived in a comfortable house, which mr. fleming had taken on a five-year lease when they came to england to live. it was one of a row of houses that looked very much alike, which, itself, was one of four sides of a square. in the centre of the square was a park-like space, a garden, really. in this garden were several tennis courts, with plenty of space, also, for nurses and children. there are many such squares in london, and they help to make the british capital a delightful place in which to live. as he went in, harry saw a lot of the younger men who lived in the square playing tennis. it was still broad daylight, although, at home, dusk would have fallen. but this was england at the end of july and the beginning of august, and the light of day would hold until ten o'clock or thereabout. that was one of the things that had helped to reconcile harry to living in england. he loved the long evenings and the chance they gave to get plenty of sport and exercise after school hours. the school that he and dick attended was not far away; they went to it each day. a great many of the boys boarded at the school, but there were plenty who, like dick and harry, did not. but school was over now, for the time. the summer holidays had just begun. at the table there was much talk of the war that was in the air. but mr. fleming did not even yet believe that war was sure. "they'll patch it up," he said, confidently. "they can't be so mad as to set the whole world ablaze over a little scrap like the trouble between austria and servia." "would it affect your business, dear?" asked mrs. fleming. "if there really should be war, i mean?" "i don't think so," said he. "i might have to make a flying trip home, but i'd be back. come on--time for us to go. what are you going to do, boy? going over to grenfel's, aren't you?" "yes, father," said harry. "all right. get home early. good-night!" a good many of the boys were already there when dick and harry reached grenfel's house. the troop--the forty-second, of london--was a comparatively small one, having only three patrols. but nearly all of them were present, and the scout-master took them out into his garden. "i'm going to change the order a bit," he said, gravely. "i want to do some talking, and then i expect to answer questions. boys, germany has declared war on russia. there are reports already of fighting on the border between france and germany. and there seems to be an idea that the germans are certain to strike at france through belgium. i may not be here very long--i may have to turn over the troop to another scoutmaster. so i want to have a long talk tonight." there was a dismayed chorus. "what? you going away, sir? why?" but harry did not join. he saw the quiet blaze in john grenfel's eyes, and he thought he knew. "i've volunteered for foreign service already," grenfel explained. "i saw a little fighting in the boer war, you know. and i may be useful. so i thought i'd get my application in directly. if i go, i'll probably go quietly and quickly. and there may be no other chance for me to say good-bye." 'then you think england will be drawn in, sir?" asked leslie franklin, leader of the patrol to which dick and harry belonged, the royal blues. "i'm afraid so," said grenfels grimly. "there's just a chance still, but that's all--the ghost of a chance, you might call it. i think it might be as well if i explained a little of what's back of all this trouble. want to listen? if you do, i'll try. and if i'm not making myself clear, ask all the questions you like." there was a chorus of assent. grenfel sat in the middle, the scouts ranged about him in a circle. "in the first place," he began, "this servian business is only an excuse. i'm not defending the servians--i'm taking no sides between servia and austria. here in england we don't care about that, because we know that if that hadn't started the war, something else would have been found. "england wants peace. and it seems that, every so often, she has to fight for it. it was so when the duke of marlborough won his battles at blenheim and ramillies and malplaquet. then france was the strongest nation in europe. and she tried to crush the others and dominate everything. if she had, she would have been strong enough, after her victories, to fight us over here--to invade england. so we went into that war, more than two hundred years ago, not because we hated france, but to make a real peace possible. and it lasted a long time. "then, after the french revolution, there was napoleon. again france, under him, was the strongest nation in europe. he conquered germany, and austria, italy and spain, the netherlands. and he tried to conquer england, so that france could rule the world. but nelson beat his fleet at trafalgar--" "hurrah!" interrupted dick, carried away. "three cheers for nelson!" grenfel smiled as the cheers were given. "even after trafalgar," he went on, "napoleon hoped to conquer england. he had massed a great army near boulogne, ready to send it across the channel. and so we took the side of the weaker nations again. all europe, led by england, rose against napoleon. and you know what happened. he was beaten finally at waterloo. and so there was peace again in europe for a long time, with no one nation strong enough to dictate to all the others." but then germany began to rise. she beat austria, and that made her the strongest german country. then she beat france, in , and that gave her her start toward being the strongest nation on the continent. "and then, i believe--and so do most englishmen--she began to be jealous of england. she wanted our colonies. she began, finally, to build a great navy. for years we have had to spend great sums of money to keep our fleet stronger than hers. and she made an alliance with austria and italy. because of that france and russia made an alliance, too, and we had to be friendly with them. and now it looks to me as if germany thought she saw a chance to beat france and russia. perhaps she thinks that we won't fight, on account of the trouble in ireland. and what we english fear is that, if she wins, she will take belgium and holland. then she would be so close to our coasts that we would never be safe. we would have to be prepared always for invasion. so, you see, it seems to me that we are facing the same sort of danger we have faced before. only this time it is germany, instead of france, that we shall have to fight--if we do fight." "if the germans go through belgium, will that mean that we shall fight?" asked leslie franklin. "almost certainly, yes," said grenfel. "and it is through belgium that germany has her best chance to strike at france. so you see how serious things are. i don't want to go into all the history that is back of all this. i just want you to understand what england's interest is. if we make war, it will be a war of self-defence. suppose you owned a house. and suppose the house next door caught fire. you would try to put out that fire, wouldn't you, to save your own house from being burned up? well, that's england's position. if the germans held belgium or holland--and they would hold both, if they beat france and russia--england would then be in just as much danger as your house would be. so if we fight, it will be to put out the german fire in the house next door. "now i want you to understand one thing. i'm talking as an englishman. a german would tell you all this in a very different way. i don't like the people who are always slandering their enemies. germany has her reasons for acting as she does. i think her reasons are wrong. but the germans believe that they are right. we can respect even people who are wrong if they themselves believe that they are right. there may be two sides to this quarrel. and germans, even if they are to be our enemies, may be just as patriotic, just as devoted to their country, as we are. never forget that, no matter what may happen." he stopped then, waiting for questions. none came. "then you understand pretty well?" he asked. there was a murmur of assent from the whole circle. "all right, then," he said. "now there's work for scouts to do. be prepared! that's our motto, isn't it? suppose there's war. franklin, what's your idea of what the boy scouts would be able to do?" "i suppose those who are old enough could volunteer, sir," said franklin, doubtfully. "i can't think of anything else--" "time enough for that later," said grenfel, with a short laugh. "england may have to call boys to the colors before she's done, if she once starts to fight. but long before that time comes, there will be a great work for the organization we all love and honor. work that won't be showy, work that will be very hard. boys, everyone in england, man and woman and child will have work to do! and we, who are organized, and whose motto be prepared, ought to be able to show what stuff there is in us. "think of all the places that must be guarded. the waterworks, the gas tanks, the railroads that lead to the seaports and that will be used by the troops." a startled burst of exclamations answered him. "why, there won't be any fighting in england, sir, will there?" asked dick mercer, in surprise. "we all hope not," said grenfel. "but that's not what i mean. it doesn't take an army to destroy a railroad. one man with a bomb and a time fuse attached to it can blow up a culvert and block a whole line so that precious hours might be lost in getting troops aboard a transport. one man could blow up a waterworks or a gas tank or cut an important telegraph or telephone wire!" "you mean that there will be germans here trying to hurt england any way they can, don't you sir? asked harry fleming. "i mean exactly that," said grenfel. "we don't know this--we can't be sure of it. but we've got good reason to believe that there are a great many germans here, seemingly peaceable enough, who are regularly in the pay of the german government as spies. we don't know the german plans. but there is no reason, so far as we know, why their great zeppelin airships shouldn't come sailing over england, to drop bombs down where they can do the most harm. there is nothing except our own vigilance to keep these spies, even if they have to work alone, from doing untold damage!" 'we could be useful as sentries, then?" said leslie franklin. he drew a deep breath. "i never thought of things like that, sir! i'm just beginning to see how useful we really might be. we could do a lot of things instead of soldiers, couldn't we? so that they would be free to go and fight?" "yes," answered the scoutmaster. "and i can tell you now that the national scout council has always planned to 'be prepared!' it decided, a long time ago, what should be done in case of war. a great many troops will be offered to the war department to do odd jobs. they will carry messages and dispatches. they will act as clerks, so far as they can. they will patrol the railways and other places that ought to be under guard, where soldiers can be spared if we take their places. so far as such things can be planned, they have been planned. "but most of the ways in which we can be useful haven't showed themselves, at all yet. they will develop, if war comes. we shall have to be alert and watchful, and do whatever there is to be done ..." "who will be scoutmaster, sir, if you go to the war?" asked harry. "i'm not quite sure," said grenfel. "we haven't decided yet. but it will be someone you can trust--be sure of that. and i think i needn't say that if you scouts have any real regard for me you will show it best by serving as loyally and as faithfully under him as you have under me. i shall be with you in spirit, no matter where i am. now it's, getting late. i think we'd better break up for tonight. we will make a special order, too, for the present. every scout in the troop will report at scout headquarters until further notice, every day, at nine o'clock in the morning. "i think we'll have to make up our minds not to play many games for the time that is coming. there is real work ahead of us if war comes--work just as real and just as hard, in its way, as if we were all going to fight for england. everyone cannot fight, but the ones who stay at home and do the work that comes to their hands will serve england just as loyally as if they were on the firing line. now up, all of you! three cheers for king george!" they were given with a will--and harry fleming joined in as heartily as any of them. he was as much of an american as he had ever been, but something in him responded with a strange thrill to england's need, as grenfel had expressed it. after all, england had been and was the mother country. england and america had fought, in their time, and america had won, but now, for a hundred years, there had been peace between them. and he and these english boys were of the same blood and the same language, binding them very closely together. "blood is thicker than water, after all!" he thought. then every scout there shook hands with john grenfel. he smiled as he greeted them. "i hope this will pass over," he said, "and that we'll do together during this vacation all the things we've planned to do. but if we can't, and if i'm called away, good-bye! do your duty as scouts, and i'll know it somehow! and, in case i don't see you again, good-bye!" "you're going to stand with us, then, fleming?" he said, as harry came up to shake hands. "good boy! we're of one blood, we english and you americans. we've had our quarrels, but relatives always do quarrel. and you'll not be asked, as a scout here, to do anything an american shouldn't do." then it was over. they were out in the street. in the distance newsboys were yelling their extra still. many people were out, something unusual in that quiet neighborhood. and suddenly one of the scouts lifted his voice, and in a moment they were all singing: rule, rule, britannia! britannia rules the waves! britons never, never, never shall be slaves! scores of voices swelled the chorus, joining the fresh young voices of the scouts. and then someone started that swinging march song that had leaped into popularity at the time of the boer war, soldiers of the queen. the words were trifling, but there was a fine swing to the music, and it was not the words that counted--it was the spirit of those who sang. as he marched along with the others harry noticed one thing. in a few hours the whole appearance of the streets had changed. from every house, in the still night air, drooped a union jack. the flag was everywhere; some houses had flung out half a dozen to the wind. harry was seeing a sight, that once seen, can never be forgotten. he was seeing a nation aroused, preparing to fight. if war came to england it would be no war decreed by a few men. it would be a war proclaimed by the people themselves, demanded by them. the nation was stirring; it was casting off the proverbial lethargy and indifference of the english. even here, in this usually quiet suburb of london, the home of business and professional men who were comfortably well off, the stirring of the spirit of england was evident. and suddenly the song of the scouts and those who had joined them was drowned out by a new noise, sinister, threatening. it was the angry note that is raised by a mob. leslie franklin took command at once. "here, we must see what's wrong!" he cried. "scouts, attention! fall in! double quick--follow me!" he ran in the direction of the sound, and they followed. five minutes brought them to the scene of the disturbance. they reached a street of cheaper houses and small shops. about one of these a crowd was surging, made up largely of young men of the lower class, for in west kensington, as in all parts of london, the homes of the rich and of the poor rub one another's elbows in easy familiarity. the crowd seemed to be trying to break in the door of this shop. already all the glass of the show windows had been broken, and from within there came guttural cries of alarm and anger. "it's dutchy's place!" cried dick mercer. "he's a german, and they're trying to smash his place up!" "halt!" cried franklin. he gathered the scouts about him. "this won't do," he said, angry spots of color showing on his cheek bones. "no one's gone for the police--or, if they have, this crowd of muckers will smash everything up and maybe hurt the old dutchman before the bobbies get here. form together now--and when i give the word, go through! once we get between them and the shop, we can stop them. maybe they won't know who we are at first, and our uniforms may stop them." "now!" he said, a moment later. and, with a shout, the scouts charged through the little mob in a body. they had no trouble in getting through. a few determined people, knowing just what they mean to do, can always overcome a greater number of disorganized ones. that is why disciplined troops can conquer five times their number of rioters or savages. and so in a moment they reached the shop. "let us in! we're here to protect you!" cried franklin to old schmidt, who was cowering within, with his wife. then he turned to the rioters, who, getting over their first surprise, were threatening again. "for shame!" he cried. "do you think you're doing anything for england? war's not declared yet--and, if it was, you might better be looking for german soldiers to shoot at than trying to hurt an old man who never did anyone any harm!" there was a threatening noise from the crowd, but franklin was undismayed. "you'll have to get through us to reach them!" he cried. "we--" but he was interrupted. a whistle sounded. the next moment the police were there. chapter iii picked for service the coming of the police cleared the little crowd of would-be rioters away in no time. there were only three or four of the bobbies, but they were plenty. a smiling sergeant came up to franklin. "more of your boy scout work, sir?" he said, pleasantly. "i heard you standing them off! that was very well done. if we can depend on you to help us all over london, we'll have an easier job than we looked for." "we saw a whole lot of those fellows piling up against the shop here," said franklin. "so of course we pitched in. we couldn't let anything like that happen." "there'll be a lot of it at first, i'm afraid, sir," said the sergeant. "still, it won't last. if all we hear is true, they'll be taking a lot of those young fellows away and giving them some real fighting to do to keep them quiet." "well, we'll help whenever we can, sergeant," said franklin. "if the inspector thinks it would be a good thing to have the shops that are kept by germans watched, i'm quite sure it can be arranged. if there's war i suppose a lot of you policemen will go?" "we'll supply our share, sir," said the sergeant. "i'm expecting orders any minute--i'm a reservist myself. coldstream guards, sir." "congratulations!" said franklin. he spoke a little wistfully. "i wonder if they'll let me go? i think i'm old enough! well, can we help any more here tonight?" "no, thank you, sir. you've done very well as it is. pity all the lads don't belong to the boy scouts. we'd have less trouble, i'll warrant. i'll just leave a man here to watch the place. but they won't be back. they don't mean any real harm, as it is. it's just their spirits--and their being a bit thoughtless, you know." "all right," said franklin. "glad we came along. good-night, sergeant. fall in! march!" there was a cheer from the crowd that had gathered to watch the disturbance as the scouts move away. a hundred yards from the scene of what might have been a tragedy, except for their prompt action, the scouts dispersed. dick, mercer and harry fleming naturally enough, since they lived so close to one another, went home together. "that was quick work," said harry. "yes. i'm glad we got there," said dick. "old dutchy's all right-he doesn't seem like a german. but i think it would be a good thing if they did catch a few of the others and scrag them!" "no, it wouldn't," said harry soberly. "don't get to feeling that way, dick. suppose you were living in berlin. you wouldn't want a lot of german roughs to come and destroy your house or your shop and handle you that way, would you?" "it's not the same thing," said dick, stubbornly. "they're foreigners." "but you'd be a foreigner if you were over there!" said harry, with a laugh. "i suppose i would," said dick. "i never thought of that! just the same, i bet mr. grenfel was right. london's full of spies. isn't that an awful idea, harry? you can't tell who's a spy and who isn't!" "no, but you can be pretty sure that the man you suspect isn't," suggested harry, sagely. "a real spy wouldn't let you find it out very easily. i can see one thing and that is a whole lot of perfectly harmless people are going to be arrested as spies before this war is very old, if it does come! we don't want to be mixed up in that, dick--we scouts. if we think a man's doing anything suspicious, we'll have to be very sure before we denounce him, or else we won't be any use." "it's better for a few people to be arrested by mistake than to let a spy keep on spying, isn't it?" "i suppose so, but we don't want to be like the shepherd's boy who used to try to frighten people by calling 'wolf! wolf!' when there wasn't any wolf. you know what happened to him. when a wolf really did come no one believed him. we want to look before we leap." "i suppose you're right, harry. oh, i do hope we can really be of some use! if i can't go to the war, i'd like to think i'd had something to do--that i'd helped when my country needed me!" "if you feel like that you'll be able to help, all right," said harry. "i feel that way, too not that i want to fight. i wouldn't want to do that for any country but my own. but i would like to be able to know that i'd had something to do with all that's going to be done." "i think it's fine for you to be like that," said dick. "i think there isn't so much difference between us, after all, even if you are american and i'm english. well, here we are again. i'll see you in the morning, i suppose?" "right oh! i'll come around for you early. goodnight!" "goodnight!" neither of them really doubted for a moment that war was coming. it was in the air. the attack on the little shop that they had helped to avert was only one of many, although there was no real rioting in london. such scenes were simply the result of excitement, and no great harm was done anywhere. but the tension of which such attacks were the result was everywhere. for the next three days there was very little for anyone to do. everyone was waiting. france and germany were at war; the news came that the germans had invaded luxembourg, and were crossing the belgian border. and then, on tuesday night, came the final news. england had declared war. for the moment the news seemed to stun everyone. it had been expected, and still it came as a surprise. but then london rose to the occasion. there was no hysterical cheering and shouting; everything was quiet. harry fleming saw a wonderful sight a whole people aroused and determined. there was no foolish boasting; no one talked of a british general eating his christmas dinner in berlin. but even dick mercer, excitable and erratic as he had always been, seemed to have undergone a great change. "my father's going to the war," he told harry on wednesday morning. he spoke very seriously. "he was a captain in the boer war, you know, so he knows something about soldiering. he thinks he'll be taken, though he's a little older than most of the men who'll go. he'll be an officer, of course. and he says i've got to look after the mater when he's gone." "you can do it, too," said harry, surprised, despite himself, by the change in his chum's manner. "you seem older than i now, dick, and i've always thought you were a kid!" "the pater says we've all got to be men, now," said dick, steadily. "the mater cried a bit when he said he was going--but i think she must have known all the time he was going. because when he told us--we were at the breakfast table--she sort of cried a little, and then she stopped. "i've got everything ready for you,' she said. "and he looked at her, and smiled. 'so you knew i was going?' he asked her. and she nodded her head, and he got up and kissed her. i never saw him do that before he never did that before, when i was looking on," dick concluded seriously. "i hope he'll come back all right, dick," said harry. "it's hard, old chap!" "i wouldn't have him stay home for anything!" said dick, fiercely. "and i will do my share! you see if i don't! i don't care what they want me to do! i'll run errands--i'll sweep out the floors in the war office, so that some man can go to war! i'll do anything!" somehow harry realized in that moment how hard it was going to be to beat a country where even the boys felt like that! the change in the usually thoughtless, light-hearted dick impressed him more than anything else had been able to do with the real meaning of what had come about so suddenly. and he was thankful, too, all at once, that in america the fear and peril of war were so remote. it was glorious, it was thrilling, but it was terrible, too. he wondered how many of the scouts he knew, and how many of those in school would lose their fathers or their brothers in this war that was beginning. truly, there is no argument for peace that can compare with war itself! yet how slowly we learn! grenfel had gone, and the troop was now in charge of a new scoutmaster, francis wharton. mr. wharton was a somewhat older man. at first sight he didn't look at all like the man to lead a group of scouts, but that, as it turned out, was due to physical infirmities. one foot had been amputated at the time of the boer war, in which he had served with grenfel. as a result he was incapacitated from active service, although, as the scouts soon learned, he had begged to be allowed to go in spite of it. he appeared at the scout headquarters, the pavilion of a small local cricket club, on wednesday morning. "i don't know much about this--more shame to me," he said, cheerfully, standing up to address the boys. "but i think we can make a go of it--think we'll be able to do something for the empire, boys. my old friend john grenfel told me a little; he said you'd pull me through. these are war times and you'll have to do for me what many a company in the army does for a young officer." they gave him a hearty cheer that was a promise in itself. "i can tell you i felt pretty bad when i found they wouldn't let me go to the front," he went on. "it seemed hard to have to sit back and read the newspapers when i knew i ought to be doing some of the work. but then grenfel told me about you boys, and what you meant to do, and i felt better. i saw that there was a chance for me to help, after all. so here i am. these are times when ordinary routine doesn't matter so much you can understand that. grenfel put the troop at the disposal of the commander at ealing. and his first request was that i should send two scouts to him at once. franklin, i believe you are the senior patrol leader? yes? then i shall appoint you assistant scoutmaster, as mr. greene has not returned from his holiday in france. will you suggest the names of two scouts for this service?" franklin immediately went up to the new scoutmaster, and they spoke together quietly, while a buzz of excited talk rose among the scouts. who would be honored by the first chance? every scout there wanted to hear his name called. "i think they'll take me, for one," said ernest graves. he was one of the patrol to which both harry fleming and dick mercer belonged, and the biggest and oldest scout of the troop, except for leslie franklin. he had felt for some time that he should be a patrol leader. although he excelled in games, and was unquestionably a splendid scout, graves was not popular, for some reason, among his fellows. he was not exactly unpopular, either; but there was a little resentment at his habit of pushing himself forward. "i don't see why you should go more than anyone else, graves," said young mercer. "i think they'd take the ones who are quickest. we're probably wanted for messenger work." "well, i'm the oldest. i ought to have first chance," said graves. but the discussion was ended abruptly. "fleming! mercer!" called mr. wharton. they stepped forward, their hands raised in the scout salute, awaiting the scoutmaster's orders. "you will proceed at once, by rail, to ealing," he said. "there you will report at the barracks, handing this note to the officer of the guard. he will then conduct you to the adjutant or the officer in command, from whom you will take your orders." "yes, sir," said both scouts. their eyes were afire with enthusiasm. but as they passed toward the door, dick mercer's quick ears caught a sullen murmur from graves. "he's making a fine start," he heard him say to fatty wells, who was a great admirer of his. "picking out an american! why, we're not even sure that he'll be loyal! did you ever hear of such a thing?" "you shut up!" cried dick, fiercely, turning on graves. "he's as loyal as anyone else! we know as much about him as we do about you, anyhow--or more! you may be big, but when we get back i'll make you take that back or fight--" "come on," said harry, pulling dick along with him. "you mustn't start quarreling now--it's time for all of us to stand together, dick. i don't care what he says, anyhow." he managed to get his fiery chum outside, and they hurried along, at the scout pace, running and walking alternately, toward the west kensington station of the underground railway. they were in their khaki scout uniforms, and several people turned to smile admiringly at them. the newspapers had already announced that the boy scouts had turned out unanimously to do whatever service they could, and it was a time when women--and it was mostly women who were in the streets--were disposed to display their admiration of those who were working for the country very freely. they had little to say to one another as they hurried along; their pace was such as to make it wise for them to save their breath. but when they reached the station they found they had some minutes to wait for a train, and they sat down on the platform to get their breath. they had already had one proof of the difference made by a state of war. harry stopped at the ticket window. "two-third class--for ealing," he said, putting down the money. but the agent only smiled, having seen their uniforms. "on the public service?" he questioned. "yes," said harry, rather proudly. "then you don't need tickets," said the agent. "got my orders this morning. no one in uniform has to pay. go right through, and ride first-class, if you like. you'll find plenty of officers riding that way." "that's fine!" said dick. "it makes it seem as if we were really of some use, doesn't it, harry?" "yes," answered harry. "but, dick, i've been thinking of what you said to graves. what did you mean when you told him you knew more about me than you did about him? hasn't he lived here a long time?" "no, and there's a little mystery about him. don't you know it?" "never heard of such a thing, dick. you see, i haven't been here so very long and he was in the patrol when i joined." "oh, yes, so he was! well, i'll tell you, then. you know he's studying to be an engineer, at the polytechnic. and he lives at a boarding house, all by himself. not a regular boarding house, exactly. he boards with mrs. johnson, you know. her husband died a year or two ago, and didn't leave her very much money. he hasn't any father or mother, but he always seems to have plenty of money. and he can play all sorts of games, but he won't do them up right. he says he doesn't care anything about cricket!" "how old is he?" "sixteen, but he's awfully big and strong." "he certainly is. he looks older than that, to me. have you ever noticed anything funny about the way he talks?" "no. why? have you?" "i'm not sure. but sometimes it seems to me he talks more like the people do in a book than you and i do. i wonder why he doesn't like me?" pondered harry. "oh, he likes you as well as he does anyone, harry. he didn't mean anything, i fancy, when he said that about your being chosen just now. he was squiffed because mr. wharton didn't take him, that's all. he thinks he ought to be ahead of everyone." "well, i didn't ask to be chosen. i'm glad i was, of course, but i didn't expect to be. i think perhaps leslie franklin asked mr. wharton to take me." "of course he did! why shouldn't he?" just then the coming of the train cut them short. from almost every window men in uniform looked out. a few of the soldiers laughed at their scout garb, but most of them only smiled gravely, and as if they were well pleased. the two scouts made for the nearest compartment, and found, when they were in it, that it was a first-class carriage, already containing two young officers who were smoking and chatting together. "hullo, young 'uns!" said one of the officers. "off to the war?" they both laughed, which harry rather resented. "we're under orders, sir," he said, politely. "but, of course, they won't let us scouts go to the war." "don't rag them, cecil," said the other officer. "they're just the sort we need. going to ealing, boys?" harry checked dick's impulsive answer with a quick snatch at his elbow. he looked his questioner straight in the eye. "we weren't told to answer any questions, sir," he said. both the officers roared with laughter, but they sobered quickly, and the one who had asked the question flushed a little. "i beg your pardon, my boy," he said. "the question is withdrawn. you're perfectly right--and you're setting us an example by taking things seriously. this war isn't going to be a lark. but you can tell me a few things. you're scouts, i see. i was myself, once--before i went to sandhurst. what troop and patrol?" dick told him, and the officer nodded. "good work!" he said. "the scouts are going to turn out and help, he? that's splendid! there'll be work enough to go all around, never you fear." "if, by any chance, you should be going to ealing barracks," said the first officer, rather shyly, "and we should get off the train when you do, there's no reason why you shouldn't let us drive you out, is there? we're going there, and i don't mind telling you that we've just finished a two hour leave to go and say good-bye to--to--" his voice broke a little at that. in spite of his light-hearted manner and his rather chaffing tone, he couldn't help remembering that good-bye. he was going to face whatever fate might come, but thoughts of those he might not see again could not be prevented from obtruding themselves. "shut up, cecil," said the other. "we've said good-bye--that's the end of it! we've got other things to think of now. here we are!" the train pulled into ealing station. here the evidences of war and the warlike preparations were everywhere. the platforms were full of soldiers, laughing, jostling one another, saluting the officers who passed among them. and harry, as he and dick followed the officers toward the gate, saw one curious thing. a sentry stood by the railway official who was taking up tickets, and two or three times he stopped and questioned civilian passengers. two of these, moreover, he ordered into the ticket office, where, as he went by, harry saw an officer, seated at a desk, examining civilians. ealing, as a place where many troops were quartered, was plainly very much under martial law. and outside the station it was even more military. soldiers were all about and automobiles were racing around, too. and there were many women and children here, to bid farewell to the soldiers who were going--where? no one knew. that was the mystery of the morning. everyone understood that the troops were off; that they had their orders. but not even the officers themselves knew where, it seemed. "here we are--here's a car!" said the officer called cecil. "jump aboard, young 'uns! we know where you're going, right enough. might as well save some time." and so in a few minutes they reached the great barracks. here the bustle that had been so marked about the station was absent. all was quiet. they were challenged by a sentry and harry asked for the officer of the guard. when he came he handed him wharton's letter. they were told to wait--outside. and then, in a few minutes, the officer returned, passed them through, and turned them over to an orderly, who took them to the room where colonel throckmorton, who was seemingly in charge of important affairs, received them. he returned their salute, then bent a rather stern gaze upon them before he spoke. chapter iv the house of the heliograph "you know your way about london?" he asked. "yes, sir," said harry. "i shall have messages for you to carry," said the colonel, then. "now i want to explain, so that you will understand the importance of this, why you are going to be allowed to do this work. this war has come suddenly--but we are sure that the enemy has expected it for a long time, and has made plans accordingly. "there are certain matters so important, so secret, that we are afraid to trust them to the telephone, the telegraph--even the post, if that were quick enough! in a short time we shall have weeded out all the spies. until then we have to exercise the greatest care. and it has been decided to accept the offer of boy scouts because the spies we feel we must guard against are less likely to suspect boys than men. i am going to give you some dispatches now--what they are is a secret. you take them to major french, at waterloo station." he stopped, apparently expecting them to speak. but neither said anything. "no questions?" he asked, sternly. "n$ --$ sir," said dick. "we're to take the dispatches to major french, at waterloo? that all, is it, sir? and then to come back here?" the colonel nodded approvingly. "yes, that's all," he said. "except for this. waterloo station is closed to all civilians. you will require a word to pass the sentries. no matter what you see, once you are inside, you are not to describe it. you are to tell no one, not even your parent--what you do or what you see. that is all," and he nodded in dismissal. they made their way out and back to the railway station. and dick seemed a little disappointed. "i don't think this is much to be doing!" he grumbled. but harry's eyes were glistening. "don't you see?" he said, lowering his voice so they could not be overheard. "we know something now that probably even a lot of the soldiers don't know! they're mobilizing. if they are going to be sent from waterloo it must mean that they're going to southampton--and that means that they will reach france. that's what we'll see at waterloo station--troops entraining to start the trip to france. they're going to fight over there. everyone is guessing at that--a lot of people thought most of the army would be sent to the east coast. but that can't be so, you see. if it was, they would be starting from king's cross and liverpool street stations, not from waterloo." "oh, i never thought of that!" said dick, brightening. when they got on the train at ealing they were lucky enough to get a compartment to themselves, since at that time more people were coming to ealing than were leaving it. dick began at once to give vent to his wonder. "how many of them do you suppose are going?" he cried. "who will be in command? sir john french, i think. lord kitchener is to be war minister, they say, and stay in london. i bet they whip those bally germans until they don't know where they are--" "steady on!" said harry, smiling, but a little concerned, none the less. "dick, don't talk that! you don't know who may be listening!" "why, harry! no one can hear us--we're alone in the carriage!" "i know, but we don't know who's in the next one or whether they can hear through or not. the wall isn't very thick, you know. we can't be too careful. i don't think anyone knows what we're doing but there isn't any reason why we should take any risk at all." "no, of course not. you're right, harry," said dick, a good deal abashed. "i'll try to keep quiet after this." "i wonder why there are two of us," said dick presently, in a whisper. "i should think one would be enough." "i think we've both got just the same papers to carry," said harry, also in a whisper. "you see, if one of us gets lost, or anything happens to his papers, the other will probably get through all right. at least it looks that way to me." "harry," said dick, after a pause, "i've got an idea. suppose we separate and take different ways to get to waterloo? wouldn't that make it safer? we could meet there and go back to ealing together." "that's a good idea, dick," said harry. he didn't think that their present errand was one of great importance, in spite of what colonel throckmorton had said. he thought it more likely that they were being tried out and tested, so that the colonel might draw his own conclusions as to how far he might safely trust them in the future. but he repressed his inclination to smile at this sudden excess of caution on dick's part. it was a move in the right direction, certainly. "yes, we'll do that," he said. "i'll walk across the bridge, and you can take the tube under the river from the monument." they followed that plan, and met without incident at the station. here more than ever the fact of war was in evidence. a considerable space in and near the station had been roped off and sentries refused to allow any to pass who could not prove that they had a right to do so. the ordinary peaceful vocation of the great terminal was entirely suspended. "anything happen to you?" asked harry with a smile. "i nearly got run over--but that was my own fault." "no, nothing. i saw graves. and he wanted to know what i was doing." "what did you tell him?" "nothing. i said, 'don't you wish you knew?' and he got angry, and said he didn't care." "it wasn't any of his business. you did right," said harry. they had to wait a few moments to see major french, who was exceedingly busy. they need no one to tell them what was going on. at the platform trains were waiting, and, even while they looked on, one after another drew out, loaded with soldiers. the windows were whitewashed, so that, once the doors of the compartments were closed, none could see who was inside. there was no cheering, which seemed strange at first, but it was so plain that this was a precautionary measure that the boys understood it easily enough. finally major french, an energetic, sunburned man, who looked as if he hadn't slept for days, came to them. they handed him the papers they carried. he glanced at them, signed receipts which he handed to them, and then frowned for a moment. "i think i'll let you take a message to colonel throckmorton for me," he said, then, giving them a kindly smile. "it will be a verbal message. you are to repeat what i tell you to him without a change. and i suppose i needn't tell you that you must give it to no one else?" "no, sir," they chorused. "very well, then. you will tell him that trains will be waiting below surbiton, at precisely ten o'clock tonight. runways will be built to let the men climb the embankment, and they can entrain there. you will remember that?" "yes, sir." "you might as well understand what it's all about," said the major. "you see, we're moving a lot of troops. and it is of the utmost importance for the enemy to know all about the movement and, of course, just as important for us to keep them from learning what they want to know. so we are covering the movement as well as we can. even if they learn some of the troops that are going, we want to keep them from finding out everything. their spy system is wonderfully complete and we have to take every precaution that is possible. it is most important that you deliver this message to colonel throckmorton. repeat it to me exactly," he commanded. they did so, and, seemingly satisfied, he let them go. but just as they were leaving, he called them back. "you'd go back by the underground, i suppose," he said. "i'm not sure that you can get through for the line is likely to be taken over, temporarily, at any moment. take a taxicab--i'll send an orderly with you to put you aboard. don't pay the man anything; we are keeping a lot of them outside on government service, and they get their pay from the authorities." the orderly led them to the stand, some distance from the station, where the cabs stood in a long row, and spoke to the driver of the one at the head of the rank. in a moment the motor was started, and they were off. the cab had a good engine, and it made good time. but after a little while harry noticed with some curiosity that the route they were taking was not the most direct one. he rapped on the window glass and spoke to the driver about it. "got to go round, sir," the man explained. "roads are all torn up the straight way, sir. won't take much longer, sir." harry accepted the explanation. indeed, it seemed reasonable enough. but some sixth sense warned him to keep his eyes open. and at last he decided that there could be no excuse for the way the cab was proceeding. it seemed to him that they were going miles out of the way, and decidedly in the wrong direction. he did not know london as well as a boy who had lived there all his life would have done. but his scout training had given him a remarkable ability to keep his bearings. and it needed no special knowledge to realize that the sun was on the wrong side of the cab for a course that was even moderately straight for ealing. they had swung well around, as a matter of fact, into a northwestern suburban section, and once he had seen a maze of railway tracks that meant, he was almost sure that they were passing near willisden junction. only a few houses appeared in the section through which the cab was now racing and pavements were not frequent. he spoke to dick: in a whisper. "there's something funny here," he said. "but, no matter what happens pretend you think it's all right. let anyone who speaks to us think we're foolish. it will be easier for us to get away then. and keep your eyes wide open, if we stop anywhere, so that you will be sure to know the place again!" "right!" said dick. just then the cab, caught in a rutty road where the going was very heavy, and there was a slight upgrade in addition, to make it worse, slowed up considerably. and dick, looking out the window on his side, gave a stifled exclamation. "look there, harry!" he said. "do you see the sun flashing on something on the roof of that house over there? what do you suppose that is?" "whew!" harry whistled, "you ought to know that, dick! a heliograph--field telegraph. morse code--or some code--made by flashes. the sun catches a mirror or some sort of reflector, and it's just like a telegraph instrument, with dots and dashes, except that you work by sight instead of by sound. that is queer. try to mark just where the house is, and so will i." the cab turned, while they were still looking, and removed the house where the signalling was being done from their line of vision. but in a few moments there was a loud report that startled the scouts until they realized that a front tire had blown out. the driver stopped at once, and descended, seemingly much perturbed. and harry and dick, piling out to inspect the damage, started when they saw that they had stopped just outside the mysterious house. "i'll fix that in a jiffy," said the driver, and began jacking up the wheel. but, quickly as he stripped off the deflated tire, he was not so quick that harry failed to see that the blow-out had been caused by a straight cut--not at all the sort of tear produced by a jagged stone or a piece of broken glass. he said nothing of his discovery, however, and a moment later he looked up to face a young man in the uniform of an officer of the british territorial army. this young man had keen, searching blue eyes, and very blond hair. his upper lip was closely shaven, but it bore plain evidence that within a few days it had sported a moustache. "well," said the officer, "what are you doing here?" the driver straightened up as if in surprise. "blow-out, sir," he said, touching his cap. "i'm carrying these young gentlemen from waterloo to ealing, sir. had to come around on account of the roads." "you've have your way lost, my man. why not admit it?" said the officer, showing his white teeth in a smile. he turned to harry an dick. "boy scouts, i see," he commented. "you carry orders concerning the movement of troops from ealing? they are to entrain--where?" "near croydon, sir, on the brighton and south coast line," said harry, lifting his innocent eyes to his questioner. "so! they go to dover, then, i suppose--no, perhaps to folkestone--- oh, what matter? hurry up with your tire, my man!" he watched them still as the car started. then he went back to the house. "whatever did you tell him that whopper about croydon for?" whispered dick. "i wasn't going to tell him anything-" "then he might have tried to make us," answered harry, also in a whisper. "did you notice anything queer about him?" "why, no--" "you have your way lost!' would any englishman say that, dick? and wouldn't a german? you've studied german. translate 'you've lost your way' into german. 'du hast dein weg--' see? he was a german spy!" "oh, harry! i believe you're right! but why didn't we--" "try to arrest him? there may have been a dozen others there, too. and there was the driver. we wouldn't have had a chance. besides, if he thinks we don't suspect, we may be able to get some valuable information later. i think--" "what?" "i'd better not say now. but remember this--we've got to look out for this driver. i think he'll take us straight to ealing now. when we get to the barracks you stay in the cab--we'll pretend we may have to go back with him." "i see," said dick, thrilling with the excitement of this first taste of real war. harry was right. the driver's purpose in making such a long detour, whatever it was, had been accomplished. and now he plainly did his best to make up for lost time. he drove fast and well, and in a comparatively short time both the scouts could see that they were on the right track. "you watch one side. i'll take the other," said harry. "we've got to be able to find our way back to that house." this watchfulness confirmed harry's suspicions concerning the driver, because he made two or three circuits that could have no other purpose than to make it hard to follow his course. at ealing he and dick carried out their plan exactly. dick stayed with the cab, outside the wall; harry hurried in. and five minutes after harry had gone inside a file of soldiers, coming around from another gate, surrounded the cab and arrested the driver. chapter v on the trail harry had reached colonel throckmorton without difficulty and before delivering major french's message, he explained his suspicions regarding the driver. "what's that? 'eh, what's that?" asked the colonel. "spy? this country's suffering from an epidemic of spy fever--that's what! still--a taxi cab driver, eh? perhaps he's one of the many who's tried to overcharge me. i'll put him in the guardhouse, anyway! i'll find out if you're right later, young man!" as a matter of fact, and as harry surmised, colonel throckmorton felt that it was not a time to take chances. he was almost sure that harry was letting his imagination run away with him, but it would be safer to arrest a man by mistake than to let him go if there was a chance that he was guilty. so he gave the order and then turned to question harry. the scout first gave major french's message, and colonel throckmorton immediately dispatched an orderly after giving him certain whispered instructions. "now tell me just why you suspect your driver. explain exactly what happened," he said. he turned to a stenographer. "take notes of this, johnson," he directed. harry told his story simply and well. when he quoted the officer's remark to the cab driver, with the german inversion, the colonel chuckled. "you have your way lost!' eh?" he said, with a smile. "you're right--he was no englishman! go on!" when he had finished, the colonel brought down his fist on his desk with a great blow. "you've done very well, fleming--that's your name?--very well, indeed," he said, heartily. "we know london is covered with spies but we have flattered ourselves that it didn't matter very much what they found, since there was no way that we could see for them to get their news to their headquarters in germany. but now--" he frowned thoughtfully. "they might be able to set up a chain of signalling stations," he said. "the thing to do would be to follow them, eh? do you think you could do that? you might use a motorcycle--know how to ride one?" "yes, sir," said harry. "live with your parents, do you? would they let you go? i don't think it would be very dangerous, and you would excite less suspicion than a man. see if they will let you turn yourself over to me for a few days. pick out another scout to go with you, if you like. perhaps two of you would be better than one. report to me in the morning. i'll write a note to your scoutmaster--mr. wharton, isn't it? right!" as they made their way homeward, thoroughly worked up by the excitement of their adventure, harry wondered whether his father would let him undertake this service colonel throckmorton had suggested. after all, he was not english, and he felt that his father might not want him to do it, although mr. fleming, he knew, sympathized strongly with the english in the war. he said nothing to dick, preferring to wait until he was sure that he could go ahead with his plans. but when he reached his house he found that things had changed considerably in his absence. both his parents seemed worried; his father seemed especially troubled. "harry," he said, "the war has hit us already. i'm called home by cable, and at the same time there is word that your aunt mary is seriously ill. your mother wants to be with her. i find that, by a stroke of luck, i can get quarters for your mother and myself on tomorrow's steamer. but there's no room for you. do you think you could get along all right if you were left here? i'll arrange for supplies for the house; mrs. grimshaw can keep house. and you will have what money you need." "of course i can get along!" said harry, stoutly. "i suppose the steamers are fearfully crowded?" "only about half of them are now in service," said mr. fleming. "and the rush of americans who have been travelling abroad is simply tremendous. well, if you can manage, it will relieve us greatly. i think we'll be back in less than a month. keep out of mischief. and write to us as often as you can hear of a steamer that is sailing. if anything happens to you, cable. i'll arrange with mr. bruce, at the embassy, to help you if you need him, but that ought not to be necessary." harry was genuinely sorry for his mother's distress at leaving him, but he was also relieved, in a way. he felt now he would not be forbidden to do his part with the scouts. he would be able to undertake what promised to be the greatest adventure that had ever come his way. he had no fear of being left alone for his training as a boy scout had made him too self reliant for that. mr. and mrs. fleming started for liverpool that night. train service throughout the country was so disorganized by the military use of the railways that journeys that in normal, peaceful times required only two or three hours were likely to consume a full day. so he went into the city of london with them and saw them off at euston, which was full of distressed american refugees. the flemings found many friends there, of whose very presence in london they were ignorant, and mr. fleming, who, thanks to his business connections in london, was plentifully supplied with cash, was able to relieve the distress of some of them. many had escaped from france, germany and austria with only the clothes they wore, having lost all their luggage. many more, though possessed of letters of credit or travellers' checks for considerable sums, didn't have enough money to buy a sandwich; since the banks were all closed and no one would cash their checks. so harry had another glimpse of the effects of war, seeing how it affected a great many people who not only had nothing to do with the fighting, but were citizens of a neutral nation. he was beginning to understand very thoroughly by this time that war was not what he had always dreamed. it meant more than fighting, more than glory. but, after all, now that war had come, it was no time to think of such things. he had undertaken, if he could get permission, to do a certain very important piece of work. and now, by a happy accident, as he regarded it, it wasn't necessary for him to ask that permission. he was not forbidden to do any particular thing; his father had simply warned him to be careful. so when he went home, he whistled outside of dick mercer's window, woke him up, and, when dick came down into the garden, explained to him what colonel throckmorton wanted them to do. "he said i could pick out someone to go with me, dick," harry explained. "and, of course, i'd rather have you than anyone i can think of. will you come along?" "will i!" said dick. "what do you think you'll do, harry?" "we may get special orders, of course," said harry. "but i think the first thing will be to find out just where the signals from that house are being received. they must be answered, you know, so we ought to find the next station. then, from that, we can work on to the next." "where do you suppose those signals go to?" "that's what we've got to find out, dick! but i should think, in the long run, to someplace on the east coast. perhaps they've got some way there of signalling to ships at sea. anyhow, that's what's got to be discovered. did you see graves tonight?" "no," said dick, his lips tightening, "i didn't! but i heard about him, all right." "how? what do you mean?" "i heard that he'd been doing a lot of talking about you. he said it wasn't fair to have taken you and given you the honor of doing something when there were english boys who were just as capable of doing it as you." "oh!" said harry, with a laugh. "much i care what he says!" "much i care, either!" echoed dick. "but, harry, he has made some of the other chaps feel that way, too. they all like you, and they don't like him. but they do seem to think some of them should have been chosen." "'well, it's not my fault," said harry, cheerfully. "i certainly wasn't going to refuse. and it isn't as if i'd asked mr. wharton to pick me out." "no, and i fancy there aren't many of them who would have done as well as you did today, either!" "oh yes, they would! that wasn't anything. we'd better get to bed now. i think we ought to report just as early as we can in the morning. if we get away by seven o'clock, it won't be a bit too early." "all right. i'll be ready. good-night, harry!" "good-night, dick!" morning saw them up on time, and off to ealing. there colonel throckmorton gave them their orders. "i've requisitioned motorcycles for you," he said. "make sure of the location of the house, so that you can mark it on an ordnance map for me. then use your own judgment, but find the next house. i have had letters prepared for you that will introduce you to either the mayor or the military commander in any town you reach and you will get quarters for the night, if you need them. where do you think your search will lead you, fleming?" he eyed harry sharply as he asked the question. "somewhere on the east coast, i think, sir," replied harry. "well, that remains to be seen. report by telegraph, using this code. it's a simplified version of the official code, but it contains all you will need to use. that is all." finding the house, when they started on their motorcycles, did not prove as difficult a task as harry had feared it might. they both remembered a number of places they had marked from the cab windows, and it was not long before they were sure they were drawing near. "i remember that hill," said harry. "by jove--yes, there it is! on top of that hill, do you see? we won't go much nearer. i don't want them to see us, by any chance. all we need is to notice which way they're signalling." they watched the house for some time before there was any sign of life. and then it was only the flashes that they saw. since the previous day some sort of cover had been provided for the man who did the signalling. "what do you make of it, dick?" asked harry eagerly, after the flashing had continued for some moments. "it looks to me as if they were flashing toward the north and a little toward the west," said dick, puzzled. "that's the way it seems to me, too," agreed harry. "that isn't what we expected, either, is it?" "of course we can't be sure." "no, put it certainly looks that way. well, we can't make sure from here, but we've got to do it somehow. i tell you what. we'll circle around and get northwest of the house. then we ought to be able to tell a good deal better. and if we get far enough around, i don't believe they'll see us, or pay any attention to us if they do." so they mounted their machines again, and in a few moments were speeding toward a new and better spot from which to spy on the house. but this, when they reached it, only confirmed their first guess. the signals were much more plainly visible here, and it was obvious now, as it had not been before, that the screen they had noticed had been erected as much to concentrate the flashes and make them more easily visible to a receiving station as to conceal the operator. so they turned and figured a straight line as well as they could from the spot where the flashes were made. harry had a map with him, and on this he marked, as well as he could, the location of the house. then he drew a line from it to the northwest. "the next station must be on this line somewhere," he said. "we'll stick to it. there's a road, you see, that we can follow that's almost straight. and as soon as we come to a high building we ought to be able to see both flashes--the ones that are being sent from that house and the answering signals. do you see?" "yes, that'll be fine!" said dick. "come on!" "not so fast!" said a harsh voice behind them. they spun around, and there, grinning a little, but looking highly determined and dangerous, was the same man they had seen the day before, and who had questioned them when the tire of their taxicab blew out! but now he was not in uniform, but in a plain suit of clothes. "so you are spying on my house, are you?" he said. "and you lied to me yesterday! no troops were sent to croydon at all!" "well, you hadn't any business to ask us!" said dick, pluckily. "if you hadn't asked us any questions, we'd have told you no lies." "i think perhaps you know too much," said the spy, nodding his head, "you had better come with me. we will look after you in this house that interests you so greatly." he made a movement forward. his hand dropped on dick's shoulder. but as it did so harry's feet left the ground. he aimed for the spy's legs, just below the knee, and brought him to the ground with a beautiful diving tackle--the sort he had learned in his american football days. it was the one attack of all others that the spy did not anticipate, if, indeed, he looked for any resistance at all. he wasn't a football player, so he didn't know how to let his body give and strike the ground limply. the result was that his head struck a piece of hard ground with abnormal violence, and he lay prone and very still. "oh, that was ripping, harry!" cried dick. "but do you think you've killed him?" "killed him? no!" said harry, with a laugh. "he's tougher than that, dick!" but he looked ruefully at the spy. "i wish i knew what to do with him," he said. "he'll come to in a little while. but--" "we can get away while he's still out," said dick, quickly. "he can't follow us and we can get such a start with our motorcycles." "yes, but he'll know their game is up," said harry. "don't you see, dick? he'll tell them they're suspected--and that's all they'll need in the way of warning. when men are doing anything as desperate as the sort of work they're up to in that house, they take no more chances than they have to. they'd be off at once, and start up somewhere else. we only stumbled on this by mere accident--they might be able to work for weeks if they were warned." "oh, i never thought of that! what are we to do, then?' "i wish i knew whether anyone saw us from the house or if they didn't--! well, we'll have to risk that. dick, do you see that house over there? it's all boarded up--it must be empty." "yes, i see it." dick caught harry's idea at once this time, and began measuring with his eye the distance to the little house of which harry had spoken. "it's all down hill--i think we could manage it all right." "we'll try it, anyhow," said harry. "but first we'd better tie up his hands and feet. he's too strong for the pair of us, i'm afraid, if he should come to." once that was done, they began to drag the spy toward the house. half carrying, half pulling, they got him down the slope, and with a last great effort lifted him through a window, which, despoiled of glass, had been boarded up. they were as gentle as they could be, for the idea of hurting a helpless man, even though he was a spy, went against the grain. but-- "we can't be too particular," said harry. "and he brought it on himself. i'm afraid he'll have worse than this to face later on." they dumped him through the window, from which they had taken the boards. then they made their own way inside, and harry began to truss up the prisoner more scientifically. he understood the art of tying a man very well indeed, for one of the games of his old scout patrol had involved tying up one scout after another to see if they could free themselves. and when he had done, he stepped back with a smile of satisfaction. "i don't believe he'll get himself free very soon," he said. "he'll be lucky if that knock on the head keeps him unconscious for a long time, because he'll wake up with a headache, and if he stays as he is he won't know how uncomfortable he is." "are we going to leave him like that, harry?" "we've got to, dick. but he'll be all right, i am going to telephone to colonel throckmorton and tell him to send here for him, but to do so at night, and so that no one will notice. he won't starve or die of thirst. i can easily manage to describe this place so that whoever the colonel sends will find it. come on!" they went back to their cycles and rode on until they came to a place where they could telephone. harry explained guardedly, and they went on. chapter vi the mystery of bray park "i hope he'll be all right," said dick. "they'll find him, i'm sure," said harry. "even if they don't, he'll be all right for a few days, two or three, anyhow. a man can be very uncomfortable and miserable, and still not be in any danger. we don't need half as much food as we eat, really. i've heard that lots of times." they were riding along the line that harry had marked on his map, and, a mile or two ahead, there was visible an old-fashioned house, with a tower projecting from its centre. from this, harry had decided, they should be able to get the view they required and so locate the second heliographing station. "how far away do you think it ought to be, harry?" asked dick. "it's very hard to tell, dick. a first-class heliograph is visible for a very long way, if the conditions are right. that is, if the sun is out and the ground is level. in south africa, for instance, or in egypt, it would work for nearly a hundred miles, or maybe even more. but here i should think eight or ten miles would be the limit. and it's cloudy so often that it must be very uncertain." "why don't they use flags, then?" "the way we do in the scouts? well, i guess that's because the heliograph is so much more secret. you see, with the heliograph the flashes are centered. you've got to be almost on a direct line with them, or not more than fifty yards off the centre line, to see them at all, even a mile away. but anyone can see flags, and read messages, unless they're in code. and if these people are german spies, the code wouldn't help them. having it discovered that they were sending messages at all would spoil their plans." "i see. of course, though. that's just what you said. it was really just by accident that we saw them flashing." then they came to the house where they expected to make their observation. it was occupied by an old gentleman, who came out to see what was wanted and stood behind the servant who opened the door. at the sight of their uniforms he drew himself up very straight and saluted. but, formal as he was, there was a smile in his eyes. "well, boys," he said, "what can i do for you? on his majesty's service, i suppose?" "yes, sir," said dick. "we'd like to go up in your tower room, if you don't mind." "scouting, eh?" said the old gentleman, mystified. "do you expect to locate the enemy's cavalry from my tower room? well, well--up with you. you can do no harm." dick was inclined to resent the old gentleman's failure to take them seriously, but harry silenced his protest. as they went up the stairs he whispered: "it's better for him to think that. we don't want anyone to know what we're doing, you know--not yet." so they reached the tower room, and, just as harry had anticipated, got a wonderful view of the surrounding country. they found that the heliograph they had left behind was working feverishly and harry took out a pencil and jotted down the symbols as they were flashed. "it's in code, of course," he said, "but maybe we'll find someone who can decipher it--i know they have experts for that. it might come in handy to know what they were talking about." "there's the other station answering!" said dick, excitedly, after a moment. "isn't it lucky that it's such a fine day, harry? see, there it is, over there!" "let me have the glasses," said harry, taking the binoculars from dick. "yes, you're right! they're on the top of a hill, just about where i thought we'd find them, too. come on! we've got no time to waste. they're a good seven miles from here, and we've a lot more to do yet." below stairs the old gentleman tried to stop them. he was very curious by this time, for he had been thinking about them and it had struck him that they were too much in earnest to simply be enjoying lark. but harry and dick, while they met his questions politely, refused to enlighten him. "i'm sorry, sir," said harry, when the old gentleman pressed him too hard. "but i really think we mustn't tell you why we're here. but if you would like to hear of it later, we'll be glad to come to see you and explain everything." "bless my soul!" said the old man. "when i was a boy we didn't think so much of ourselves, i can tell you! but then we didn't have any boy scouts, either!" it was hard to tell from his manner whether that was intended for a compliment or not. but they waited no longer. in a trice they were on their motorcycles and off again. and when they drew near to the hilltop whence the signals had come, harry stopped. for a moment he looked puzzled, then he smiled. "i think i've got it!" he said. "they're clever enough to try to fool anyone who got on to their signalling. they would know what everyone would think--that they would be sending their messages to the east coast, because that is nearest to germany. that's why they put their first station here. i'll bet they send the flashes zig-zagging all around, but that we'll find they all get east gradually. now we'll circle around this one until we find out in what direction it is flashing, then we'll know what line we must follow. after that all we've got to do is to follow the line to some high hill or building, and we'll pick up the next station." their eyes were more accustomed to the work now, and they wasted very little time. this time, just as harry had guessed, the flashes were being sent due east, and judging from the first case that the next station would be less than ten miles away, he decided to ride straight on for about that distance. he had a road map, and found that they could follow a straight line, except for one break. they did not go near the hilltop at all. "i'd like to know what they're doing there," said dick. "so would i, but it's open country, and they're probably keeping a close lookout. they're really safer doing that in the open than on the roof of a house, out here in the country." "because they can hide the heliograph? it's portable, isn't it?" "yes. they could stow it away in a minute, if they were alarmed. i fancy we'll find them using hilltops now as much as they can." "harry, i've just thought of something. if they've planned so carefully as this, wouldn't they be likely to have country places, where they'd be less likely to be disturbed?" "yes, they would. you're right, dick. especially as we get further and further away from london. i suppose there must be plenty of places a german could buy or lease." "and perhaps people wouldn't even know they were germans, if they spoke good english, and didn't have an accent." that suggestion of dick's bore fruit. for the third station they found was evidently hidden away in a private park. it was in the outskirts of a little village, and harry and dick had no trouble at all in finding out all the villagers knew of the place. "'twas taken a year ago by a rich american gentleman, with a sight of motor cars and foreign-looking servants," they were told. "very high and mighty he is, too--does all his buying at the stores in lunnon, and don't give local trade any of his patronage." the two scouts exchanged glances. their suspicions were confirmed in a way. but it was necessary to be sure; to be suspicious was not enough for them. "we'll have to get inside," he said under his breath to dick. but the villager heard, and laughed. "easy enough, if you're friends of his," he said. "if not--look out, master! he's got signs up warning off trespassers, and traps and spring guns all over the place. wants to be very private, and that, he does." "thanks," said harry. "perhaps we'd better not pay him a visit, after all." the village was a sleepy little place, one of the few spots harry had seen to which the war fever had not penetrated. it was not on the line of the railway, and there was not even a telegraph station. by showing colonel throckmorton's letter, harry and dick could have obtained the right to search the property that they suspected. but that did not seem wise. "i don't think the village constables here could help us much, dick," said harry. "they'd give everything away, and we probably wouldn't accomplish anything except to put them on their guard. i vote we wait until dark and try to find out what we can by ourselves. it's risky but even if they catch us, i don't think we need to be afraid of their doing anything." "i'm with you," said dick. "we'll do whatever you say." they spent the rest of the afternoon scouting around the neighboring country on their motorcycles, studying the estate from the roads that surrounded it. bray park, it was called, and it had for centuries belonged to an old family, which, however, had been glad of the high rent it had been able to extract from the rich american who had taken the place. what they saw was that the grounds seemed to be surrounded, near the wall, by heavy trees, which made it difficult to see much of what was within. but in one place there was a break, so that, looking across velvety green lawns, they could see a small part of an old and weatherbeaten grey house. it appeared to be on a rise, and to stand several stories above the ground, so that it might well be an ideal place for the establishment of a heliograph station. but harry's suspicions were beginning to take a new turn. "i believe this is the biggest find we've made yet, dick," he said. "i think we'll find that if we discover what is really going on here, we'll be at the end of our task--or very near it. it's just the place for a headquarters." "i believe it is, harry. and if they've been so particular to keep everything about it secret, it certainly seems that there must be something important to hide," suggested harry, thinking deeply. "i think i'll write a letter to colonel throckmorton, dick. i'll tell him about this place, and that we're trying to get in and find out what we can about it. then, if anything happens to us, he'll know what we were doing, and he will have heard about this place, even if they catch us. i'll post it before we go in." "that's a splendid idea, harry. i don't see how you think of everything the way you do." "i think it's because my father's always talking about how one ought to think of all the things that can go wrong. he says that's the way he's got along in business is by never being surprised by having something unfortunate happen, and by always trying to be ready to make it as trifling as it can be." so harry wrote and posted his letter, taking care to word it so that it would be hard for anyone except colonel throckmorton to understand it. and, even after having purposely made the wording rather obscure, he put it into code. and, after that, he thought of still another precaution that might be wise. "we won't need the credentials we've got in there tonight, dick," he said. "nor our copies of the code, either. we'll bury them near where we leave our motorcycles. then when we get out we can easily get them back, and if we should be caught they won't be found on us. remember, if we are caught, we're just boys out trespassing. let them think we're poachers, if they like." but even harry could think of no more precautions after that, and they had a long and tiresome wait until they thought it was dark enough to venture within the walls. getting over the wall was not difficult. they had thought they might find broken glass on top, but there was nothing of the sort. once inside, however, they speedily discovered why that precaution was not taken--and also that they had had a remarkably narrow escape. for scarcely had they dropped to the ground and taken shelter when they saw a figure, carrying a gun, approaching. it was a man making the rounds of the wall. while they watched he met another man, also armed, and turned to retrace this steps. "they've got two men, at least--maybe a lot more, doing that," whispered harry. "we've got to find out just how often he passes that spot. we want to know if the intervals are regular, too, so that we can calculate just when he'll be there." three times the man came and went, while they waited, timing him. and harry found that he passed the spot at which they had entered every fifteen minutes. that was not exact for there was a variation of a minute or so, but it seemed pretty certain that he would pass between thirteen and seventeen minutes after the hour, and so on. "so we'll know when it's safe to make a dash to get out," said harry. "the first thing a general does, you know, is to secure his retreat. he doesn't expect to be beaten, but he wants to know what he can live to fight another day if he is." "we've got to retreat, haven't we?" asked dick. "it wouldn't do us any good to stay here." "that's so. but we've got to advance first. now to get near that house, and see what we can find. look out for those traps and things our friend warned us of. it looks like just the place for them. and keep to cover!" they wormed their way forward, often crawling along. both knew a good deal about traps and how they are set, and their common sense enabled them to see the most likely places for them. they kept to open ground, avoiding shrubbery and what looked like windfalls of branches. before they came into full view of the house they had about a quarter of a mile to go. and it was an exciting journey. they dared not speak to one another. for all about, though at first they could see nothing, there was the sense of impending danger. they felt that unseen eyes were watching, not for them, perhaps, but for anyone who might venture to intrude and pass the first line. both of the scouts felt that they were tilting against a mighty force, that the organization that would perfect, in time of peace. such a system of espionage in the heart of the country of a possible enemy, was of the most formidable sort. they stopped, at last, at the edge of the clump of thick, old trees that seemed to surround the place. here they faced the open lawn, and harry realized that to try to cross it was too risky. they would gain nothing by being detected. they could find out as much here by keeping their eyes and ears open, he thought, as by going forward, when they were almost sure to be detected. "we'll stay here," he whispered to dick, cautiously. "dick, look over there--to the left of the house. you see where there's a shadow by that central tower? well, to the left of that. do you see some wires dangling there? i'm not sure." "i think there are," whispered dick, after a moment in which he peered through the darkness. dick had one unusual gift. he had almost a savage's ability to see in the dark, although in daylight his sight was by no means out of the ordinary. "look!" he said, again, suddenly. "up on top of the tower! there is something going up there--it's outlined against that white cloud!" harry followed with his eyes and dick was right. a long, thin pole was rising, even as they looked on. figures showed on the roof of the tower. they were busy about the pole. it seemed to grow longer as they watched. then, suddenly, the dangling wires they had first noticed were drawn taut, and they saw a cross-piece on the long pole. and then, with a sudden rush of memory, harry understood. "oh! we have struck it!" he said. "i remember now--a portable, collapsible wireless installation! i've wondered how they could use wireless, knowing that someone would be sure to pick up the signals and that the plant would be run down. but they have those poles made in sections--they could hide the whole thing. it takes very little time to set them up. this is simply a bigger copy of what they use in the field. we've got to get out!" he looked at his watch. "carefully, now," he said. "we've just about got time. that sentry must be just about passing the place where we got over the wall now. by the time we get there he'll be gone, and we can slip out. we've got everything we came for, not that we've seen that!" they started on the return journey through the woods. more than ever there seemed to be danger about them. and suddenly it reached out and gripped them--gripped harry, at least. as he took a step his foot sank through the ground, as it seemed. the next moment he had all he could do to suppress a cry of agony as a trap closed about his ankle, wrenching it, and throwing him down. "go on!" he said to dick, suppressing his pain by a great effort. "i won't leave you!" said dick. "i-" "obey orders! don't you see you've go to go? you've got to tell them about the wireless--and about where i am! or else how am i to get away? perhaps if you come back quickly with help they won't find me until you come! hurry--hurry!" dick understood. and, with a groan, he obeyed orders, and went. chapter vii a close shave probably dick did not realize that he was really showing a high order of courage in going while harry remained behind, caught in that cruel trap and practically in the hands of enemies who were most unlikely to treat him well. in fact, as he made his way toward the wall, dick was reproaching himself bitterly. "i ought to stay!" he kept on saying to himself over and over again. "i ought not to leave him so! he made me go so that i would be safe!" there had been no time to argue, or harry might have been able to make him understand that it was at least as dangerous to go as to stay--perhaps even more dangerous. dick did not think that there was at least a chance that every trap was wired, so that springing it would sound an alarm in some central spot. if that were so, as harry had fully understood, escape for dick would be most difficult and probably he too would be captured. "i'm such a coward!" dick almost sobbed to himself, for he was frightened, though, it must be said, less on his account than at the thought of harry. yet he did not stop. he went on resolutely, alone, as he got used to the idea that he must depend on himself, without harry to help him in any emergency that arose, his courage returned. he stopped, just as he knew harry would have done, several feet short of the wall. his watch told him that he had time enough to make a dash, had several minutes to spare, in fact. but he made sure. and it was well that he did. for some alarm had been given. he heard footsteps of running men, and in a moment two men, neither of them the one they knew as the sentry, came running along the wall. they carried pocket flashlights, and were examining the ground carefully. dick sensed at once what they meant to do, and shrank into the shelter of a great rhododendron bush. he was small for his age, and exceptionally lissome and he felt that the leaves would conceal him for a few moments at least. he was taking a risk of finding a trap in the bush, but it was the lesser of the two evils just then. and luck favored him. he encountered no trap. then one of the men with flashlights gave a cry that sounded to dick just like the note of a dog that has picked up a lost scent. the lights were playing on the ground just where they had crossed the wall. "footsteps, hans!" said the man. "turned from the wall, too! they have gone in, but have not come out." "how many?" asked the other man, coming up quickly. "two, i think--no more," said the discoverer. "now we shall follow them." dick held his breath. if they could follow the footsteps--and there was no reason in the world to hope that they could not!--they would be bound to pass within a foot or two of his hiding-place. and, as he realized, they would, when they were past him, find the marks of his feet returning. they would know then that he was between them and the wall. he realized what that would mean. bravely he nerved himself to take the one desperate chance that remained to him. they were far too strong for him to have a chance to meet them on even terms, all he could hope for was an opportunity to make use of his light weight and his superior speed. he knew that he could move two feet, at least, to their one. and so he waited, crouching, until they went by. the light flashed by the bush, for some reason, it did not strike it directly. that gave him a respite. fortunately they were looking for footprints, not for their makers. the moment they were by, dick took the chance of making a noise, and pushed through the bush, to reach the other side. and, just as the cry of the man who first had seen the footprints sounded again, he got through. at once, throwing off all attempt at silence, he started running, crouched low. he was only a dozen feet from the wall he leaped for a projection a few feet up. by a combination of good luck and skill he reached it with his hands. a moment later he had swarmed over the wall and dropped to the other side just as a shot rang out behind. the bullet struck the wall, chipped fragments of stone flew all over him. but he was not hurt, and he ran as he had, never known he could run, keeping to the side of the road, where he was in a heavy shadow. as soon as he could, he burst through a hedge on the side of the road opposite the wall, and ran on, sheltered by the hedge until, to his delight, he plunged headfirst into a stream of water. the fall knocked him out for a moment, but the cold water revived him and he did not mind the scraped knee and the hurt knuckles he owed to the sharp stones in the bed of the little brook. he changed his course at once, following the brook, since in that no telltale footprints would be left. behind him he heard the sound of pursuit for a little while, but he judged that the brook would save him. he could not be pursued very far. even in this sleepy countryside he would find it easy to get help, and the germans, as he was now sure they were, would have to give up the chase. all that had been essential had been for him to get a few hundred feet from the park, after that he was safe. but, if he was safe, he was hopelessly lost. at least he would have been, had he been an ordinary boy, without the scout training. he was in unknown country and he had been chased away from all the landmarks he had. it was of the utmost importance that he should reach as soon as possible, and, especially, without passing too near bray park, the spot where the motorcycles and the papers and codes had been cached. and, when he finally came to a full stop, satisfied that he no longer had anything to fear from pursuit, he was completely in the dark as to where he was. however, his training asserted itself. although harry had been in charge, dick had not failed to notice everything about the place where they made their cache that would help to identify it. that was instinct with him by this time, after two years as a scout; it was second nature. and, though it had been light, he had pictured pretty accurately what the place would look like at night. he remembered for instance, that certain stars would be sure to fill the sky in a particular relation to the cache. and now he looked up and worked out his own position. to do that he had to reconstruct, with the utmost care, his movements since he had left the cache to the moment when he and harry had entered bray park. but the chase had confused him, naturally. he had doubled on his track more than once, trying to throw his pursuers off. but by remembering accurately the position of bray park in its relation to the cache, and by concentrating as earnestly as he could to remember as much as possible of the course of his flight, he arrived presently at a decision of how he must proceed to retrieve the motorcycles and the papers. as soon as he had done so he hurried on, feverishly, taking a course that, while longer than necessary, was essential since he dared not go near bray park. he realized thoroughly how much depended on his promptness. it was essential that colonel throckmorton should learn of the wireless station, which was undoubtedly powerful enough to send its waves far out to sea, even if not to the german coast itself. and there was harry. the only chance of rescue for him lay in what dick might do. that thought urged him on even more than the necessity of imparting what they had learned. so, scouting as he went, least he encounter some prowling party from bray park silently looking for him, he went on hastily. he was almost as anxious to avoid the village as the spy headquarters, for he knew that in such places strangers might be regarded with suspicion even in times of peace. and, while the war fever had not seemed to be in evidence that afternoon, he knew that it might have broken out virulently in the interval. he had heard the stories of spy baiting in other parts of the country; how, in some localities, scores of absolutely innocent tourists had been arrested and searched. so he felt he must avoid his friends as well as his enemies until he had means of proving his identity. delaying as he was by his roundabout course, it took him nearly an hour to come to scenes that were familiar. but then he knew that he had found himself, with the aid of the stars. familiar places that he had marked when they made the cache appeared, and soon he reached it. but it was empty; motorcycles and papers--all were gone! chapter viii a friend in need "as long as i can't be at home, i'd rather be here than anywhere in the world i can think of!" was it little more than a week, thought harry fleming, since he had uttered those words so lightly? was it just a week since grenfel, his english scoutmaster, had bidden the boys of his troop goodbye? was it just two days since father and mother had been so suddenly recalled to the states? was it just that very morning that he and his good chum dick mercer had been detailed on this mission which had led to the discovery of the secret heliographs so busily sending messages to the enemy across the north sea? was it just a few hours since the two scouts, hot on the trail, had cached papers and motorcycles and started the closer exploration of that mysterious estate outside the sleepy english village, leased, so the village gossip had it, by a rich american who eccentrically denied himself to all comers and zealously guarded the privacy of his grounds? was it just a few moments since he had urged, even commanded, dick mercer to leave him, caught in a trap set for just such trespassers as they? had he urged his chum to leave him in his agony, for the ankle was badly wrenched, and seek safety in flight? the terrible pain in his ankle and the agonizing fear both for himself and his chum made moments seem like hours and the happenings of these same moments appear as an awful dream. he could hear, plainly enough, the advance of the two searchers who had scared dick into hiding in the rhododendron bush, he could even see the gleam of their flashlights, and was able, therefore, to guess what they were doing. for the moment it seemed impossible to him that dick should escape. he was sure of capture himself in a few minutes, and, as a matter of fact, there were things that made the prospect decidedly bearable. the pain in his ankle from the trap in which he had been caught was excruciating. it seemed to him that he must cry out, but he kept silence resolutely. as long as there was a chance that he might not fall into the hands of the spies who were searching the grounds, he meant to cling to it. but the chance was a very slim one, as he knew. he could imagine, without difficulty, just about what the men with the flashlights would do, by reasoning out his own course. they would look for footprints. these would lead them to the spot where he and dick had watched the raising of the wireless mast, and thence along the path they had taken to return to the wall and to safety. thus they would come to him, and he would be found, literally like a rat in a trap. and then, quite suddenly, came the diversion created by dick's daring dash for escape, when he sped from the bush and climbed the wall, followed by the bullets that the searchers fired after him. harry started, hurting his imprisoned ankle terribly by the wrench his sudden movement gave. then he listened eagerly for the cry he dreaded yet expected to hear that would tell him that dick had been hit. it did not come. instead, he heard more men running, and then in a moment all within the wall was quiet, and he could hear the hue and cry dying away as they chased him along the road outside. "well, by jove!" he said to himself, enthusiastically, "i believe dick's fooled them. i didn't think he had it in him! that's bully for him! he ought to get a medal for that!" it was some moments before he realized fully that he had gained a respite, temporally at least. obviously the two men who had been searching with flashlights had followed dick, there was at least a good chance that no one else knew about him. he had decided that there was some system of signal wires that rang an alarm when a trap was sprung. but it might be that these two men were the only ones who were supposed to follow up such an alarm. he carried a flashlight himself and now he took the chance of playing it on his ankle, to see if there was any chance of escape. he hooded the light with his hand and looked carefully. but what he saw was not encouraging. the steel band looked most formidable. it was on the handcuff principle and any attempt to work his foot loose would only make the grip tighter and increase his suffering. his spirits fell at that. then the only thing his brief immunity would do for him would be to keep him in pain a little longer. he would be caught anyhow, and he guessed that, if dick got away, he would find his captors in a savage mood. even as he let the flashlight wink out, since it was dangerous to use it more than was necessary, he heard a cautious movement within a few feet. at first he thought it was an animal he had heard, so silent were its movements. but in a moment a hand touched his own. he started slightly, but kept quiet. "hush--i'm a friend," said a voice, almost at his elbow. "'i thought you were somewhere around here but i couldn't find you until you flashed your light. you're caught in a trap, aren't you?" "yes," said harry. "who are you?" "that's what i want to know about you, first," said the other boy--for it was another boy, as harry learned from his voice. never had a sound been more welcome in his ears than that voice. "tell me who you are and what you two were doing around here. i saw you this afternoon and tracked you. i tried to before, but i couldn't, on account of your motorcycles. then i just happened to see you, when you were on foot. are you boy scouts?" "yes," said harry. "are you?" "yes. that's why i followed--especially when i saw you coming in here. we've got a patrol in the village, but most of the scouts are at work in the fields." rapidly, and in a whisper, harry explained a little, enough to make this new ally understand. "you'd better get out, if you know how, and take word," said harry. "i think my chum got away, but it would be better to be sure. and they'll be after me soon." "if they give us two or three minutes we'll both get out," said the newcomer, confidently. "i know this place with my eyes shut. i used to play here before the old family moved away. i'm the vicar's son, in the village, and i always had the run of the park until these new people came. and i've been in here a few times since then, too." "that's all right," said harry. "but how am i going to get out of this trap?" "let me have your flashlight a moment," said the stranger. harry gave it to him, and the other scout bent over his ankle. harry saw that he had a long slender piece of wire. he guessed that he was going to try to pick the lock. and in a minute or less harry heard a welcome click that told him his new found friend--a friend in need, indeed, he was proving himself to be, had succeeded. his ankle was free. he struggled to his feet, and there was a moment of exquisite pain as the blood rushed through his ankle and circulation was restored to his numbed foot. but he was able to stand, and, although limpingly, to walk. he had been fortunate, as a matter of fact, in that no bone had been crushed. that might well have happened with such a trap, or a ligament or tendon might have been wrenched or torn, in which case he would have found it just about impossible to move at all. as it was, however, he was able to get along, though he suffered considerable pain every time he put his foot to the ground. it was no time, however, in which to think of discomforts so comparatively trifling as that. when he was outside he would be able, with the other scout's aid, to give his foot some attention, using the first aid outfit that he always carried, as every scout should do. but now the one thing to be done, to make good his escape. harry realized, as soon as he was free, that he was not by any means out of the woods. he was still decidedly in the enemy's country, and getting out of it promised to be a difficult and a perilous task. he was handicapped by his lack of knowledge of the place and what little he did know was discouraging. he had proof that human enemies were not the only ones he had to fear. and the only way he knew that offered a chance of getting out offered, as well, the prospect of encountering the men who had pursued dick mercer, returning. it was just as he made up his mind to this that the other scout spoke again. "we can't get out the way you came in," he said. "or, if we could, it's too risky. but there's another way. i've been in here since these people started putting their traps around, and i know where most of them are. come on!" harry was glad to obey. he had no hankering for command. the thing to do was to get out as quickly as he could. and so he followed, though he had qualms when he saw that, instead of going toward the wall, they were heading straight in and toward the great grey house. they circled the woods that gave them the essential protection of darkness, and always they got further and further from the place where dick and harry had entered. harry understood, of course, that there were other ways of getting out but it took a few words to make him realize the present situation as it actually was. "there's a spot on the other side they don't really guard at all," said his companion. "it's where the river runs by the place. they think no one would come that way. and i don't believe they know anything at all about what i'm going to show you." soon harry heard the water rustling. and then, to his surprise, his guide led him straight into a tangle of shrubbery. it was hard going for him, for his ankle pained him a good deal, but he managed it. and in a moment the other boy spoke, and, for the first time, in a natural voice. "i say, i'm glad we're here!" he said, heartily. "d'ye see?" "it looks like a cave," said harry. "it is, but it's more than that, too. this place is no end old, you know. it was here when they fought the wars of the roses, i've heard. and come on--i'll show you something!" he led the way on into the cave, which narrowed as they went. but harry, pointing his flashlight ahead, saw that it was not going to stop. "oh! a secret passage! i understand now!" he exclaimed, finally. "isn't it jolly?" said the other. "can't you imagine what fun we used to have here when we played about? you see, this may have been used to bring in food in time of siege. there used to be another spur of this tunnel that ran right into the house. but that was all let go to pot, for some reason. this is all that is left. but it's enough. it runs way down under the river--and in a jiffy we'll be out in the meadows on the other side. i say, what's your name?" they hadn't had time to exchange the information each naturally craved about the other before. and now, as they realized it, they both laughed. harry told his name. "mine's jack young," said the other scout. "i say, you don't talk like an englishman?" "i'm not," explained harry. "i'm american. but i'm for england just now--and we were caught here trying to find out something about that place." they came out into the open then, where the light of the stars enabled them to see one another. jack nodded. "i got an idea of what you were after--you two," he said. "the other one's english, isn't he?" "dick mercer? yes!" said harry, astonished. "but how did you find out about us?" "stalked you," said jack, happily. "oh, i'm no end of a scout! i followed you as soon as i caught you without your bicycles." "we must have been pretty stupid to let you do it, though," said harry, a little crestfallen. "i'm glad we did, but suppose you'd been an enemy! a nice fix we'd have been in!" "that's just what i thought about you," admitted jack. "you see, everyone has sort of laughed at me down here because i said there might be german spies about. i've always been suspicious of the people who took bray park. they didn't act the way english people do. they didn't come to church, and when the pater--i told you he was the vicar here, didn't i?--went to call, they wouldn't let him in! just sent word they were out. fancy treating the vicar like that!" he concluded with spirit. harry knew enough of the customs of the english countryside to understand that the new tenants of bray park could not have chosen a surer method of bringing down both dislike and suspicion upon themselves. "that was a bit too thick, you know," jack went on. "so when the war started, i decided i'd keep my eyes open, especially on any strangers who came around. so there you have it. i say! you'd better let me try to make that ankle easier. you're limping badly." that was true, and harry submitted gladly to such ministrations as jack knew how to offer. cold water helped considerably, it reduced the swelling. and then jack skillfully improvised a brace, that, binding the ankle tightly, gave it a fair measure of support. "now try that," he said. "see if it doesn't feel better!" "it certainly does!" said harry. "you're quite a doctor, aren't you? well now the next thing to do is to try to find where dick is. i know where he went--to the place where we cached our cycles and our papers." like dick, he was hopelessly at sea, for the moment, as to his whereabouts. and he had, more-over, to reckon with the turns and twists of the tunnel, which there had been no way of following in the utter darkness. but jack young, who, of course, could have found his way anywhere within five miles of them blindfolded, helped him, and they soon found that they were less than half a mile from the place. "can you come on with me, jack?" asked harry. he felt that in his rescuer he had found a new friend, and one whom he was going to like very well, indeed, and he wanted his company, if it was possible. "yes. no one knows i am out," said jack, frankly. "the pater's like the rest of them here--he doesn't take the war seriously yet. when i said the other day that it might last long enough for me to be old enough to go, he laughed at me. i really hope it won't, but i wouldn't be surprised if id did, would you?" "no, i wouldn't. it's too early to tell anything about it yet, really. but if the germans fight the way they always have before, it's going to be a long war." they talked as they went, and, though harry's ankle was still painful, the increased speed the bandaging made possible more than made up for the time it had required. harry was anxious about dick, he wanted to rejoin him as soon as possible. and so it was not long before they came near to the place where the cycles had been cached. "we'd better go slow. in case anyone else watched us this afternoon, we don't want to walk into a trap," said harry. he was more upset than he had cared to admit by the discovery that he and dick had been spied upon by jack, excellent though it had been that it was so. for what jack had done it was conceivable that someone else, too, might have accomplished. "all right. you go ahead," said jack. "i'll form a rear guard--d'ye see? then you can't be surprised." "that's a good idea," said harry. "there, see that big tree, that blasted one over there? i marked that. the cache is in a straight line, almost, from that, where the ground dips a little. there's a clump of bushes." "there's someone there, too," said jack. "he's tugging at a cycle, as if he were trying to get ready to start it." "that'll be dick, then," said harry, greatly relieved. "all right--i'll go ahead!" he went on then, and soon he, too, saw dick busy with the motorcycle. "won't he be glad to see me, though?" he thought. "poor old dick! i'll bet he's had a hard time." then he called, softly. and dick turned. but--it was not dick. it was ernest graves! chapter ix an unexpected blow! for a moment it would have been hard to lay which of them was more completely staggered and amazed. "what are you doing here?" harry gasped, finally. and then, all at once, it came over him that it did not matter what ernest answered, that there could be no reasonable and good explanation for what he had caught graves doing. "you sneak!" he cried. "what are you doing here--spying on us?" he sprang forward, and graves, with a snarling cry of anger, lunged to meet him. had he not been handicapped by his lame ankle, harry might have given a good account of himself in a hand-to-hand fight with graves, but, as it was, the older boy's superior weight gave him almost his own way. before jack, who was running up, could reach them, graves threw harry off. he stood looking down on him for just a second. "that's what you get for interfering, young fleming!" he said. "there's something precious queer about you, my american friend. i fancy you'll have to do some explaining about where you've been tonight." harry was struggling to his feet. now he saw the papers in graves' hand. "you thief!" he cried. "those papers belong to me! you've stolen them! give them here!" but graves only laughed in his face. "come and get them!" he taunted. and, before either of the scouts could realize what he meant to do he had started one of the motorcycles, sprung to the saddle, and started. in a moment he was out of sight, around a bend in the road. only the put-put of the motor, rapidly dying away, remained of him. but, even in that moment, the two he left behind him were busy. jack sprang to the other motorcycle, and tried to start it, but in vain. something was wrong; the motor refused to start. "that's what he was doing when i saw him first," cried harry, with a flash of inspiration. "i thought it was dick, trying to start his motor--it was graves trying to keep us from starting it! but he can't have done very much--i don't believe he had the time. we ought to be able to fix it pretty soon." "it's two miles to the repair place!" said jack, blankly. "not to this repair shop," said harry, with a laugh. the need of prompt and efficient action pulled him together. he forgot his wonder at finding graves, the pain of his ankle, everything but the instant need of being busy. he had to get that cycle going and be off in pursuit, that was all there was to it. "give me a steady light," he directed. "i think he's probably disconnected the wires of the magneto--that's what i'd do if i wanted to put a motor out of business in a hurry. and if that's all, there's no great harm done." "i don't see how you know all that!" wondered jack. "i can ride one of those things, but the best i can do is mend a puncture, if i should have one." "oh!" said dick, "it's easy enough," working while he talked. "you see, the motor itself can't be hurt unless you take an axe to it, and break it all up. but to start you've got to have a spark--and you get that from electricity. so there are these little wires that make the connection. he didn't cut them, thank heaven! he just disconnected them. if he'd cut them i might really have been up a tree because that's the sort of accident you wouldn't provide for in a repair kit." "it isn't an accident at all," said jack, literally. "that's right," said harry. "that's what i meant, too. now let's see. i think that's all. good thing we came up when we did or he'd have cut the tires to ribbons. and there are a lot of things i'd rather do than ride one of these machines on its rims--to say nothing of how long the wheels would last if one tried to go fast at all." he tried the engine; it answered beautifully. "now is there a telephone in your father's house, jack?" "sure there is. why?" for jack was plainly puzzled. "so that i can call you up, of course! i'm going after graves. later i'll tell you who he is. i'm in luck, really. he took dick's machine--and mine is a good ten miles an hour faster. i can race him and beat him but, of course, he couldn't know which was the fastest. dick's is the best looking. i suppose that's why he picked it." "but where is dick?" "that's what i'm coming to. they may have caught him but i hope not. i don't think they did, either. i think he'll come along here pretty soon. and, if he does, he'll have an awful surprise." "i'll stay here and tell him--" "you're a brick, jack! it's just what i was going to ask you to do. i can't leave word for him any other way, and i don't know what he'd think if he came here and found the cycles and all gone. then take him home with you, will you? and i'll ring you up just as soon as i can. good-bye!" and everything being settled as far as he could foresee it then, harry went scooting off into the night on his machine. as he rode, with the wind whipping into his face and eyes, and the incessant roar of the engine in his ears, he knew he was starting what was likely to prove a wild-goose chase. even if he caught graves, he didn't know what he could do, except that he meant to get back the papers. more and more, as he rode on, the mystery of graves' behavior puzzled him, worried him. he knew that graves had been sore and angry when he had not been chosen for the special duty detail. but that did not seem a sufficient reason for him to have acted as he had. he remembered, too, the one glimpse of graves they had caught before, in a place where he did not seem to belong. and then, making the mystery still deeper, and defying explanation, as it seemed to him, was the question of how graves had known, first of all, where they were, and of how he had reached the place. he had no motorcycle of his own or he would not have ridden away on dick's machine. he could not have come by train. harry's head swam with the problem that presented itself. and then, to make it worse, there was that remark graves had made. he had said harry would find it hard to explain where he had been. how did he know where they had been? why should he think it would be hard for them to explain their actions? "there isn't any answer," he said to himself. "and, if there was, i'm a juggins to be trying to find it now. i'd better keep my mind on this old machine, or it will ditch me! i know what i've got to do, anyhow, even if i don't know why." mile after mile he rode, getting the very best speed he could out of the machine. somewhere ahead of him, he was sure, riding back toward london, was graves. in this wild pursuit he was taking chances, of course. graves might have turned off the road almost anywhere. but if he had done that, there was nothing to be done about it, that much was certain. he could only keep on with the pursuit, hoping that his quarry was following the straight road toward london. and, to be sure, there was every reason for him to hope just that. by this time it was very late. no one was abroad, the countryside was asleep. once or twice he did find someone in the streets of a village as he swept through, then he stopped, and asked it a man on another motorcycle had passed ahead of him. two or three times the yokel he questioned didn't know, twice, however, he did get a definite assurance that graves was ahead of him. somehow he never thought of the outrageously illegal speed he was making. he knew the importance of his errand, and that, moreover, he was a menace to nothing but the sleep of those he disturbed. no one was abroad to get in his way, and he forgot utterly that there might be need for caution, until, as he went through a fair sized town, he suddenly saw three policemen, two of whom were also mounted on motorcycles, waiting for him. they waved their arms, crying out to him to stop, and, seeing that he was trapped, he did stop. "let me by," he cried, angrily. "i'm on government service!" "another of them?" one of the policemen looked doubtfully at the rest. "too many of you telling that tale tonight. and the last one said there was a scorcher behind him. have you got any papers? he had them!" harry groaned! so graves had managed to strike at him, even when he was miles away. evidently he, too, had been held up, evidently, also, he had used harry's credentials to get out of the scrape speeding had put him in. "no, i haven't any credentials," he said, angrily. "but you can see my uniform, can't you? i'm a boy scout, and we're all under government orders now, like soldiers or sailors." "that's too thin, my lad," said the policeman who seemed to be recognized as the leader. "everyone, we've caught for speeding too fast since the war began has blamed it on the war. we'll have to take you along, my boy. they telephoned to us from places you passed--they said you were going so fast it was dangerous. and we saw you ourselves." in vain harry pleaded. now that he knew that graves had used his credentials from colonel throckmorton, he decided that it would be foolish to claim his own identity. graves had assumed that, and he had had the practically conclusive advantage of striking the first blow. so harry decided to submit to the inevitable with the best grace he could muster. "all right," he said. "i'll go along with you, officer. but you'll be sorry before it's over!" "maybe, sir," said the policeman. "but orders is orders, sir, and i've got to obey them. not that i likes running a young gentleman like yourself in. but--" "oh, i know you're only doing your duty, as you see it, officer," he said. "can't be helped--but i'm sorry. it's likely to cause a lot of trouble." so he surrendered. but, even while he was doing so, he was planning to escape from custody. chapter x a good witness dick's surprise and concern when he found the cache empty and deserted, with papers and motorcycles alike gone, may be imagined. for a moment he thought he must be mistaken, that, after all, he had come to the wrong place. but a quick search of the ground with his flashlight showed him that he had come to the right spot. he could see the tracks made by the wheels of the machine; he could see, also, evidences of the brief struggle between harry and graves. for a moment his mystification continued. but then, with a low laugh, jack young emerged from the cover in which he had been hiding. "hello, there!" he said. "i say, are you dick mercer?" "yes!" gasped dick. "but however do you know? i never saw you before!" "well, you see me now," said jack. "harry fleming told me to look for you here. he said you'd be along some time tonight, if you got away. and he was sure you could get away, too." "harry!" said dick, dazed. "you've seen him? where is he? did he get away? and what happened to the cycles and the papers we hid there? why--" "hold on! one question at a time," said jack. "keep your shirt on, and i'll tell you all i know about it. then we can decide what is to be done next. i think i'll attach myself temporarily to your patrol." "oh, you're a scout, too, are you?" asked dick. that seemed to explain a good deal. he was used to having scouts turn up to help him out of trouble. and so he listened as patiently as he could, while jack explained what had happened. "and that's all i know," said jack, finally, when he had carried the tale to the point where harry rode off on the repaired motorcycle in pursuit of ernest graves. "i should think you might really know more about it now than i do." "why, how could i? you saw it all!" "yes, that's true enough. but you know harry and i were too busy to talk much after we found that motor was out of order. all i know is that when we got here we found someone i'd never seen before and never want to see again messing about with the cycles. we thought it must be you, of course--at least harry did, and of course i supposed he ought to know." "and then you found it was ernest graves?" "harry did. he took one look at him and then they started right in fighting. harry seemed to be sure that was the thing to do. if i'd been in his place i'd have tried to arbitrate i think. this chap graves was a lot bigger than he. he was carrying weight for age. you see, i don't know yet who graves is, or why harry wanted to start fighting him that way. i've been waiting patiently for you to come along, so that you could tell me." "he's a sneak!" declared dick, vehemently. "i suppose you know that harry's an american, don't you?" "yes, but that's nothing against him." "of course it isn't! but this graves is the biggest and oldest chap in our troop--he isn't in our patrol. and he thought that if any of us were going to be chosen for special service, he ought to have the first chance. so when they picked harry and me, he began talking about harry's being an american. he tried to act as if he thought it wasn't safe for anyone who wasn't english to be picked out!" "it looks as if he had acted on that idea, too, doesn't it, then? it seems to me that he has followed you down here, just to get a chance to play some trick on you. he got those papers, you see. and i fancy you'll be blamed for losing them." "how did he know we were here?" said dick, suddenly. "that's what i'd like to know!" "yes, it would be a good thing to find that out," said jack, thoughtfully. "well, it will be hard to do. but we might find out how he got here. i know this village and the country all around here pretty well. and gaffer hodge will know, if anyone does. he's the most curious man in the world. come on--we'll see what he has to say." "who is he?" asked dick, as they began to walk briskly toward the village. "you went through the village this afternoon, didn't you? didn't you see a very old man with white hair and a stick beside him, sitting in a doorway next to the little shop by the red dog?" "yes." "that's gaffer hodge. he's the oldest man in these parts. he can remember the crimean war and--oh, everything! he must be over a hundred years old. and he watches everyone who comes in. if a stranger is in the village he's never happy until he knows all about him. he was awfully worried today about you and harry, i heard," explained jack. dick laughed heartily. "well, i do hope he can tell us something about graves. the sneak! i certainly hope harry catches up to him. do you think he can?" "well, he might, if he was lucky. he said the cycle he was riding was faster than the other. but of course it would be very hard to tell just which to way to go. if graves knew there was a chance that he might be followed he ought to be able to give anyone who was even a mile behind the slip." "of course it's at night and that makes it harder for harry." "yes, i suppose it does. in the daytime harry could find people to tell him which way graves was going, couldn't he?" "yes. that's just what i meant." "oh, i say, won't gaffer hodge be in bed and asleep?" "i don't think so. he doesn't seem to like to go to bed. he sits up very late, and talks to the men when they start to go home from the red dog. he likes to talk, you see. we'll soon know--that's one thing. we'll be there now in no time." sure enough, the old man was still up when they arrived. he was just saying goodnight, in a high, piping voice, to a little group of men who had evidently been having a nightcap in the inn next to his house. when he saw jack he smiled. they were very good friends, and the old man had found the boy one of his best listeners. the gaffer liked to live in the past, he was always delighted when anyone would let him tell his tales of the things he remembered. "good-evening, gaffer," said jack, respectfully. "this is my friend, dick mercer. he's a boy scout from london." "knew it! knew it!" said gaffer hodge, with a senile chuckle. "i said they was from lunnon this afternoon when i seen them fust! glad to meet you, young master." then jack described graves as well as he could from his brief sight of him, and dick helped by what he remembered. "did you see him come into town this afternoon, gaffer?" asked jack. "let me think," said the old man. "yes--i seen 'un. came sneaking in, he did, this afternoon as ever was! been up to the big house at bray park, he had. came in an automobile, he did. then he went back there. but he was in the post office when you and t'other young lad from lunnon went by, maister," nodding his head as if well pleased. this was to dick, and he and jack stared at one another. certainly their visit to gaffer hodge had paid them well. "are you sure of that, gaffer?" asked jack, quietly. "sure that it was an automobile from bray park?" "sure as ever was!" said the old man, indignantly. like all old people, he hated anyone to question him, resenting the idea that anyone could think he was mistaken. "didn't i see the machine myself--a big grey one, with black stripes as ever was, like all their automobiles?" "that's true--that's the way their cars are painted, and they have five or six of them," said jack. "yes. and he come in the car from lunnon before he went there--and then he come out here. he saw you and t'other young lad from lunnon go by, maister, on your bicycles. he was watching you from the shop as ever was." "thank you, gaffer," said jack, gravely. "you've told us just what we wanted to know. i'll bring you some tobacco in the morning, if you like. my father's just got a new lot down from london." "thanks, thank'ee kindly," said the gaffer, overjoyed at the prospect. then they said good-night to the old man, who, plainly delighted at the thought that he had been of some service to them, and at this proof of his sharpness, of which he was always boasting, rose and hobbled into his house. "he's really a wonderful old man," said dick. "he certainly is," agreed jack. "his memory seems to be as good as ever, and he's awfully active, too. he's got rheumatism, but he can see and hear as well as he ever could, my father says." they walked on, each turning over in his mind what they had heard about graves. "that's how he knew we were here," said dick finally. "i've been puzzling about that. i remember now seeing that car as we went by. but of course i didn't pay any particular attention to it, except that i saw a little american flag on it." "yes, they're supposed to be americans, you know," said jack. "and i suppose they carry the flag so that the car won't be taken for the army. the government has requisitioned almost all the cars in the country, you know." "i'm almost afraid to think about this," said dick, after a moment of silence. "graves must know those people in that house, if he's riding about in their car. and they--" he paused, and they looked at one another. "i don't know what to do!" said dick. "i wish there was some way to tell harry about what we've found out," jack started. "i nearly forgot!" he said. "we'd better cut for my place. i told harry we'd be there if he needed a telephone, you know. come on!" chapter xi the first blow to harry, as he was taken off to the police station, it seemed the hardest sort of hard luck that his chase of graves should be interrupted at such a critical time and just because he had been over-speeding. but he realized that he was helpless, and that he would only waste his breath if he tried to explain matters until he was brought before someone who was really in authority. then, if he had any luck, he might be able to clear things up. but the men who arrested him were only doing their duty as they saw it, and they had no discretionary power at all. when he reached the station he was disappointed to find that no one was on duty except a sleepy inspector, who was even less inclined to listen to reason than the constables. "everyone who breaks the law has a good excuse, my lad," he said. "if we listened to all of them we might as well close up this place. you can tell your story to the magistrate in the morning. you'll be well treated tonight, and you're better off with us than running around the country--a lad of your age! if i were your father, i should see to it that you were in bed and asleep before this." there was no arguing with such a man, especially when he was sleepy. so harry submitted, very quietly, to being put into a cell. he was not treated like a common prisoner, that much he was grateful for. his cell was really a room, with windows that were not even barred. and he saw that he could be very comfortable indeed. "you'll be all right here," said one of the constables. "don't worry, my lad. you'll be let off with a caution in the morning. get to sleep now--it's late, and you'll be roused bright and early in the morning." harry smiled pleasantly, and thanked the man for his good advice. but he had no intention whatever of taking it. he did not even take off his clothes, though he did seize the welcome chance to us the washstand that was in the room. he had been through a good deal since his last chance to wash and clean up, and he was grimmy and dirty. he discovered, too, that he was ravenously hungry. until that moment, he had been too active, too busy with brain and body, to notice his hunger. however, there was nothing to be done for that now. he and dick had not stopped for meals that day since breakfast, and they had eaten their emergency rations in the early afternoon. in the tool case on his impounded motorcycle, harry knew there were condensed food tables--each the equivalent of certain things like eggs, and steaks and chops. and there were cakes of chocolate, too, the most nourishing of foods that were small in bulk. but the knowledge did him little good now. he didn't even know where the motorcycle had been stored for the night. it had been confiscated, of course; in the morning it would be returned to him. but he didn't allow his thoughts to dwell long on the matter of food. it was vastly more important that he should get away. he had to get his news to colonel throckmorton. perhaps dick had done that. but he couldn't trust that chance. aside from that, he wanted to know what had become of dick. and, for the life of him, he didn't see how he was to get away. "if they weren't awfully sure of me, they'd have locked me up a lot more carefully than this," he reflected. "and of course it would be hard. i could get out of here easily enough." he had seen a drain pipe down which, he felt sure, he could climb. "but suppose i did," he went on, talking to himself. "i've got an idea it would land me where i could be seen from the door--and i suppose that's open all night. and, then if i got away from here, every policeman in this town would know me. they'd pick me up if i tried to get out, even if i walked." he looked out of the window. not so far away he could see a faint glare in the sky. that was london. he was already in the suburban chain that ringed the great city. this place--he did not know its name, certainly--was quite a town in itself. and he was so close to london that there was no real open country. one town or borough ran right into the next. the houses would grow fewer, thinning out, but before the gap became real, the outskirts of the next borough would be reached. straight in front of him, looking over the house tops, he could see the gleam of water. it was a reservoir, he decided. probably it constituted the water supply for a considerable section. and then, as he looked, he saw a flash--saw a great column of water rise in the air, and descend, like pictures of a cloudburst. a moment after the explosion, he heard a dull roar. and after the roar another sound. he saw the water fade out and disappear, and it was a moment before he realized what was happening. the reservoir had been blown up! and that meant more than the danger and the discomfort of an interrupted water supply. it meant an immediate catastrophe--the flooding of all the streets nearby. in england, as he knew, such reservoirs were higher than the surrounding country, as a rule. they were contained within high walls, and, after a rainy summer, such as this had been, would be full to overflowing. he was hammering at his door in a moment, and a sleepy policeman, aroused by the sudden alarm, flung it open as he passed on his way to the floor below. harry rushed down, and mingled, unnoticed, with the policemen who had been off duty, but summoned now to deal with this disaster. the inspector who had received him paid no attention to him at all. "out with you, men!" he cried. "there'll be trouble over this--no telling but what people may be drowned. double quick, now!" they rushed out, under command of a sergeant. the inspector stayed behind, and now he looked at harry. "hullo!" he said. "how did you get out?" "i want to help!" said harry, inspired. "i haven't done anything really wrong, have i? oughtn't i be allowed to do whatever i can, now that something like this has happened?" "go along with you!" said the inspector. "all right! but you'd better come back--because we've got your motorcycle, and we'll keep that until you come back for it." but it made little difference to harry that he was, so to speak, out on bail. the great thing was that he was free. he rushed out, but he didn't make for the scene of the disaster to the reservoir, caused, as he had guessed, by some spy. all the town was pouring out now, and the streets were full of people making for the place where the explosion had occurred. it was quite easy for harry to slip through them and make for london. he did not try to get his cycle. but before he had gone very far he over took a motor lorry that had broken down. he pitched in and helped with the slight repairs it needed, and the driver invited him to ride along with him. "taking in provisions for the troops, i am," he said. "if you're going to lunnon, you might as well ride along with me. eh, tommy?" his question was addressed to a sleepy private, who was nodding on the seat beside the driver. he started now, and looked at harry. "all aboard!" he said, with a sleepy chuckle. "more the merrier, say i! up all night--that's what i've been! fine sort of war this is? do i see any fightin'? i do not! i'm a bloomin' chaperone for cabbages and cauliflowers and turnips, bless their little hearts!" harry laughed. it was impossible not to do that. but he knew that if the soldier wanted fighting, fighting he would get before long. harry could guess that regular troops--and this man was a regular--would not be kept in england as soon as the territorials and volunteers in sufficient number had joined the colors. but meanwhile guards were necessary at home. he told them, in exchange for the ride, of the explosion and the flood that had probably followed it. "bli'me!" said the soldier, surprised. "think of that, now! what will they be up to next--those germans? that's what i'd like to mow! coming over here to england and doing things like that! i'd have the law on 'em--that's what i'd do!" harry laughed. so blind to the real side of war were men who, at any moment, might find themselves face to face with the enemy! chapter xii the silent wire probably jack young and dick reached the vicarage just about the time that saw harry getting into trouble with the police for speeding. the vicar was still up, he had a great habit of reading late. and he seemed considerably surprised to find that jack was not upstairs in bed. at first he was inclined even to be angry, but he changed his mind when he saw dick, and heard something of what had happened. "get your friend something to eat and i'll have them make a hot bath ready," said the vicar. "he looks as if he needed both!" this was strictly true. dick was as hungry and as grimy as harry himself. if anything, he was in even worse shape, for his flight through the fields and the brook had enabled him to attach a good deal of the soil of england to himself. so the thick sandwiches and the bowl of milk that were speedily set before him were severely punished. and while he ate both he and jack poured out their story. mr. young frowned as he listened. although he was a clergyman and a lover of peace, he was none the less a patriot. "upon my word!" he said. "wireless, you think, my boy?" "i'm sure of it, sir," said dick. "and so'm i," chimed in jack. "you know, sir, i've thought ever since war seemed certain that bray park would bear a lot of watching and that something ought to be done. just because this is a little bit of a village, without even a railroad station, people think nothing could happen here. but if german spies wanted a headquarters, it's just the sort of place they would pick out." "there's something in that," agreed the vicar, thoughtfully. but in his own mind he was still very doubtful. the whole thing seemed incredible to him. yet, as a matter of fact, it was no more incredible than the war itself. what inclined him to be dubious, as much as anything else, was the fact that it was mere boys who had made the discovery. he had read of outbreaks of spy fever in various parts of england, in which the most harmless and inoffensive people were arrested and held until they could give some good account of themselves. this made him hesitate, while precious time was being wasted. "i hardly know what to do--what to suggest," he went on, musingly. "the situation is complicated, really. supposing you are right, and that german spies really own bray park, and are using it as a central station for sending news that they glean out of england, what could be done about it?" "the place ought to be searched at once every-one there ought to be arrested!" declared jack, impulsively. his father smiled. "yes, but who's going to do it?" he said. "we've just one constable here in bray. and if there are germans there in any number, what could he do? i suppose we might send word to harobridge and get some police or some territorials over. yes, that's the best thing to do." but now dick spoke up in great eagerness. "i don't know, sir," he suggested. "if the soldiers came, the men in the house there would find out they were coming, i'm afraid. perhaps they'd get away, or else manage to hide everything that would prove the truth about them. i think it would be better to report direct to colonel throckmorton. he knows what we found out near london, sir, you see, and he'd be more ready to believe us." "yes, probably you're right. ring him up, then. it's late, but he won't mind." what a different story there would have been to tell had someone had that thought only half an hour earlier! but it is often so. the most trivial miscalculation, the most insignificant mistake, seemingly, may prove to be of the most vital importance. dick went to the telephone. it was one of the old-fashioned sort, still in almost universal use in the rural parts of england, that require the use of a bell to call the central office. dick turned the crank, then took down the receiver. at once he herd a confused buzzing sound that alarmed him. "i'm afraid the line is out of order, sir," he said. and after fifteen minutes it was plain that he was right. the wire had either been cut or it had fallen or been short circuited in some other way. dick and jack looked at one another blankly. the same thought had come to each of them, and at the same moment. "they've cut the wires!" said dick. "now what shall we do? we can't hear from harry, either!" "we might have guessed they'd do that!" said jack. "they must have had some one out to watch us, dick--perhaps they thought they'd have a chance to catch us. they know that we've found out something, you see! it's a good thing we stayed where we could make people hear us if we got into any trouble." "oh, nonsense!" said the vicar, suddenly. "you boys are letting your imaginations run away with you. things like that don't happen in england. the wire is just out of order. it happens often enough, jack, as you know very well!" "yes, sir," said jack, doggedly. "but that's in winter, or after a heavy storm--not in fine weather like this. i never knew the wire to be out of order before when it was the way it is now." "well, there's nothing to be done, in any case," said the vicar. "be off to bed, and wait until morning. there's nothing you can do now." dick looked as if he were about to make some protest, but a glance at jack restrained him. instead he got up, said good-night and followed jack upstairs. there he took his bath, except that he substituted cold water for the hot, for he could guess what jack meant to do. they were going out again, that was certain. and, while it is easy to take cold, especially when one is tired, after a hot bath, there is no such danger if the water is cold. "do you know where the telephone wire runs?" he asked jack. "yes, i do," said jack. "i watched the men when they ran the wire in. there are only three telephones in the village, except for the one at bray park, and that's a special, private wire. we have one here, doctor brunt has one, and there's another in the garage. they're all on one party line, too. we won't have any trouble in finding out if the wire was cut, i fancy." their chief difficulty lay in getting out of the house. true, jack had not been positively ordered not to go out again, but he knew that if his father saw him, he would be ordered to stay in. and he had not the slightest intention of missing any part of the finest adventure he had ever had a chance to enjoy--not he! he was a typical english boy, full of the love of adventure and excitement for their own sake, even if he was the son of a clergyman. and now he showed dick what they would have to do. "i used to slip out this way, sometimes," he said. "that was before i was a scout. i--well, since i joined, i haven't done it. it didn't seem right. but this is different. don't you think so, dick?" "i certainly do," said dick. "your pater doesn't understand, jack. he thinks we've just found a mare's nest, i fancy." jack's route of escape was not a difficult one. it led to the roof of the scullery, at the back of the house, and then, by a short and easy drop of a few feet, to the back garden. once they were in that, they had no trouble. they could not be heard or seen from the front of the house, and it was a simple matter of climbing fences until it was safe to circle back and strike the road in front again. jack led the way until they came to the garage, which was at the end of the village, in the direction of london. their course also took them nearer to bray park, but at the time they did not think of this. "there's where the wire starts from the garage, d'ye see!" said jack, pointing. "you see how easily we can follow it--it runs along those poles, right beside the road." "it seems to be all right here," said dick. "oh, yes. they wouldn't have cut it so near the village," said jack. "we'll have to follow it along for a bit, i fancy a mile or so, perhaps. better not talk much, either. and, i say, hadn't we better stay in the shadow? they must have been watching us before--better not give them another chance, if we can help it," was jack's very wise suggestion. they had traveled nearly a mile when dick suddenly noticed that the telephone wire sagged between two posts, "i think it has been. cut--and that we're near the place, too," he said then, "look, jack! there's probably a break not far from here." "right, oh!" said jack. "now we must be careful. i've just thought, dick, that they might have left someone to watch at the place where they cut the wire." "why, jack?" "well, they might have thought we, or someone else, might come along to find out about it, just as we're doing. i'm beginning to think those beggars are mightily clever, and that if they think of doing anything, they're likely to think that we'll think of it. they've outwitted us at every point so far." so now, instead of staying under the hedge, but still in the road, they crept through a gap in the hedge, tearing their clothes as they did so, since it was a blackberry row, and went along still in sight of the poles and the wire, but protected by the hedge so that no one in the road could see them. "there!" said jack, at last. "see? you were right, dick. there's the place--and the wire was cut, too! it wasn't an accident. but i was sure of that as soon as i found the line wasn't working." sure enough, the wires were dangling. and there was something else. just as they stopped they heard the voices of two men. "there's the break, bill," said the first voice. "bli'me, if she ain't cut, too! now who did that? bringing us out of our beds at this hour to look for trouble!" "i'd like to lay my hands on them, that's all!" said the second voice. "a good job they didn't carry the wire away--'twon't take us long to repair, and that's one precious good thing!" "linemen," said jack. "but i wonder why they're here? they must have come a long way. i shouldn't be surprised if they'd ridden on bicycles. and i never heard of their sending to repair a wire at night before." "listen," said dick. "perhaps we will find out." "well, now that we've found it, we might as well repair it," said the first lineman, grumblingly. "all comes of someone trying to get a message through to bray and making the manager believe it was a life and death matter!" "harry must have tried to telephone--that's why they've come," said jack. "i was wondering how they found out about the break. you see, as a rule, no one would try to ring up anyone in bray after seven o'clock or so. and of course, they couldn't tell we were trying to ring, with the wire cut like that." "oh, jack!" said dick, suddenly. 'if they're linemen, i believe they have an instrument with them. probably we could call to london from here. do you think they will let us do that?" "that's a good idea. we'll try it, anyway," said jack. "come on. it must be safe enough now. these chaps won't hurt us." but jack was premature in thinking that. for no sooner did the two linemen see them than they rushed for them, much to both lads' surprise. "you're the ones who cut that wire," said the first, a dark, young fellow. "i've a mind to give you a good hiding!" but they both rushed into explanations, and luckily, the other lineman recognized jack. "it's the vicar's son from bray, tom," he said. "let him alone." and then, while their attention was distracted, a bullet sang over their heads. and "hands oop!" said in a guttural voice. chapter xiii a treacherous deed harry fleming had, of course, given up all hope of catching graves by a direct pursuit by the time he accepted the offer of a ride in the motor truck that was carrying vegetables for the troops in quarters in london. his only hope now was to get his information to colonel throckmorton as soon as possible. at the first considerable town they reached, where he found a telegraph office open, he wired to the colonel, using the code which he had memorized. the price of a couple of glasses of beer had induced the driver and the soldier to consent to a slight delay of the truck, and he tried also to ring up jack young's house and find out what had happened to dick. when he found that the line was out of order he leaped at once to the same conclusion that jack and dick had reached--that it had been cut on purpose. he could not stay to see if it would be repaired soon. a stroke of luck came his way, however. in this place boy scouts were guarding the gas works and an electric light and power plant, and he found one squad just coming off duty. he explained something of his errand to the patrol leader, and got the assurance that the telephone people should be made to repair the break in the wire. "we'll see to it that they find out what is the trouble, fleming," said the patrol leader, whose name was burridge. "by the way, i know a scout in your troop--graves. he was on a scout with us a few weeks ago, when he was visiting down here. seemed to be no end of a good fellow." harry was surprised for he had heard nothing of this before. but then that was not strange. he and graves were not on terms of intimacy, by any means. he decided quickly not to say anything against graves. it could do no good and it might do harm. "right," he said. "i know him--yes. i'll be going, then. you'll give my message to mercer or young if there's any way of getting the line clear?" "yes, if i sit up until my next turn of duty," said burridge, with a smile. "good luck, fleming." then harry was off again. dawn was very near now. the east, behind him, was already lighted up with streaks of glowing crimson. dark clouds were massed there, and there was a feeling in the air that carried a foreboding of rain, strengthening the threat of the red sky. harry was not sorry for that. there would be work at bray park that might well fare better were it done under leaden skies. as he rode he puzzled long and hard over what he had learned. it seemed to him that these german spies were taking desperate chances for what promised to be, at best, a small reward. what information concerning the british plans could they get that would be worth all they were risking? the wireless at bray park, the central station near willesden, whence the reports were heliographed--it was an amazingly complete chain. and harry knew enough of modern warfare to feel that the information could be important only to an enemy within striking distance. that was the point. it might be interesting to the german staff to know the locations of british troops in england, and, more especially, their destinations if they were going abroad as part of an expeditionary force to france or belgium. but the information would not be vital, it didn't seem to harry that it was worth all the risk implied. but if, on the other hand, there was some plan for a german invasion of england, then he would have no difficulty in understanding it. then knowledge of where to strike, of what points were guarded and what were not, would be invaluable. "but what a juggins i am!" he said. "they can't invade england, even if they could spare the troops. not while the british fleet controls the sea. they'd have to fly over." and with that half laughing expression he got the clue he was looking for. fly over! why not? flight was no longer a theory, a possibility of the future. it war, something definite, that had arrived. even as he thought of the possibility he looked up and saw, not more than a mile away, two monoplanes of a well-known english army type flying low. "i never thought of that!" he said to himself. and now that the idea had come to him, he began to work out all sorts of possibilities. he thought of a hundred different things that might happen. he could see, all at once, the usefulness bray park might have. why, the place was like a volcano! it might erupt at any minute, spreading ruin and destruction in all directions. it was a hostile fortress, set down in the midst of a country that, even though it was at war, could not believe that war might come borne to it. he visualized, as the truck kept in its plodding way, the manner in which warfare might be directed from a center like bray park. thence aeroplanes, skillfully fashioned to represent the british planes, and so escape quick detection, might set forth. they could carry a man or two, elude guards who thought the air lanes safe, and drop bombs here, there everywhere and anywhere. perhaps some such aerial raid was responsible for the explosion that had freed him only a very few hours before. warfare in england, carried on thus by a few men, would be none the less deadly because it would not involve fighting. there would be no pitched battles, that much he knew. instead, there would be swift, stabbing raids. water works, gas works, would be blown up. attempts would be made to drop bombs in barracks, perhaps. certainly every effort would be made to destroy the great warehouses in which food was stored. it was new, this sort of warfare, it defied the imagination. and yet it was the warfare that, once he thought of it, it seemed certain that the germans would wage. he gritted his teeth at the thought of it. perhaps all was fair in love and war, as the old proverb said. but this seemed like sneaky, unfair fighting to him. there was nothing about it of the glory of warfare. he was learning for himself that modern warfare is an ugly thing. he was to learn, later, that it still held its possibilities of glory, and of heroism. indeed, for that matter, he was willing to grant the heroism of the men who dared these things that seemed to him so horrible. they took their lives in their hands, knowing that if they were caught they would be hung as spies. the truck was well into london now, and the dawn was full. a faint drizzle was beginning to fall and the streets were covered with a fine film of mud. people were about, and london was arousing itself to meet the new day. harry knew that he was near his journey's end. tired as he was, he was determined to make his report before he thought of sleep. and then, suddenly, around a bend, came a sight that brought harry to his feet, scarcely able to believe his eyes. it was graves, on a bicycle. at the sight of harry on the truck he stopped. then he turned. "here he is!" he cried. "that's the one!" a squad of men on cycles, headed by a young officer, came after graves. "stop!" called the officer to the driver. harry stared down, wondering. "you there--you boy scout come down!" said the officer. harry obeyed, wondering still more. he saw the gleam of malignant triumph on the face of graves. but not even the presence of the officer restrained him. "where are those papers you stole from me, you sneak?" he cried. "you keep away from me!" said graves. "you yankee!" "here, no quarreling!" said the officer. "take him, men!" two of the soldiers closed in on harry. he stared at them and then at the officer, stupefied. "what--what's this?" he stammered. "you're under arrest, my lad, on a charge of espionage!" said the officer. "espionage, and conspiracy to give aid and comfort to the public enemy. anything you say may be used against you." for a moment such a rush of words came to harry, that he was silent by the sheer inability to decide which to utter first. but then he got control of himself. "who makes this charge against me!" he asked, thickly, his face flushing scarlet in anger. "you'll find that out in due time, my lad. forward march!" "but i've got important information! i must be allowed to see colonel throckmorton at once! oh, you've got no idea how important it may be!" "my orders are to place you under arrest. you can make application to see anyone later. but now i have no discretion. come! if you really want to see colonel throckmorton, you had better move on." harry knew as well as anyone the uselessness of appealing from such an order, but he was frantic. realizing the importance of the news he carried, and beginning to glimpse vaguely the meaning of graves and his activity, he was almost beside himself. "make graves there give back the papers he took from me!" he cried. "i did take some papers, lieutenant," said graves, with engaging frankness. "but they were required to prove what i had suspected almost from the first--that he was a spy. he was leading an english scout from his own patrol into trouble, too. i suppose he thought he was more likely to escape suspicion if he was with an englishman." "it's not my affair," said the lieutenant, shrugging his shoulders. he turned to harry. "come along, my lad. i hope you can clear yourself. but i've only one thing to do--and that is to obey my orders." harry gave up, then, for the moment. he turned and began walking along, a soldier on each side. but as he did so graves turned to the lieutenant. "i'll go and get my breakfast, then, sir," he said. "i'll come on to ealing later. though, of course, they know all i can tell them already." "all right," said the officer, indifferently. "you're never going to let him go!" exclaimed harry, aghast. "don't you know he'll never come back?" "all the better for you, if he doesn't," said the officer. "that's enough of your lip, my lad. keep a quiet tongue in your head. remember you're a prisoner, and don't try giving orders to me." chapter xiv the trap the bullet that sang over their heads effectually broke up the threatened trouble between dick mercer and jack young on one side, and the telephone linemen on the other. with one accord they obeyed that guttural order, "hands oop!" they had been so interested in one another and in the cut wire that none of them had noticed the practically noiseless approach of a great grey motor car, with all lights out, that had stolen up on them. but now, with a groan, dick and jack both knew it for one of the bray park cars. so, after all, dick's flight had been in vain. he had escaped the guards of bray park once, only to walk straight into this new trap. and, worst of all, there would be no jack young outside to help this time, for jack was a captive, too. only--he was not! at the thought dick had turned, to discover that jack was not beside him. it was very dark, but in a moment he caught the tiniest movement over the hedge, and saw a spot a little darker than the rest of the ground about it. jack, he saw at once had taken the one faint chance there was, dropped down, and crawled away, trusting that their captures had not counted their party, and might not miss the boy. just in time he slipped through a hole in the hedge. the next moment one of the headlights in the grey motor flashed out, almost blinding the the rest of them, as they held up their hands. in its light from the car, four men, well armed with revolvers, were revealed. "donnerwetter!" said one. "i made sure there were four of them! so! vell, it is enough. into the car with them!" no pretence about this chap! he was german, and didn't care who knew it. he was unlike the man who had disguised himself as an english officer, at the house of the heliograph, but had betrayed himself and set this whole train of adventure going by his single slip and fall from idiomatic english that harry fleming's sharp ears had caught. dick was thrilled, somehow, even while he was being roughly bundled toward the motor. if these fellows were as bold as this, cutting telephone wires, driving about without lights, giving up all secrecy and pretence, it must mean that the occasion for which they had come was nearly over. it must mean that their task, whatever it might be, was nearly accomplished--the blow they had come to strike was about ready to be driven home. "'ere, who are you a shovin' off?" complained one of the linemen, as he was pushed toward the motor. he made some effort to resist but the next moment he pitched forward. one of the germans had struck him on the head with the butt of his revolver. it was a stunning blow, and the man was certainly silenced. dick recoiled angrily from the sight, but he kept quiet. he knew he could do no good by interfering. but the sheer, unnecessary brutality of it shocked and angered him. he felt that englishmen, or americans, would not treat a prisoner so--especially one who had not been fighting. these men were not even soldiers, they were spies, which made the act the more outrageous. they were serving their country, however, for all that, and that softened dick's feeling toward them a little. true, they were performing their service in a sneaky, underhanded way that went against his grain. but it was service, and he knew that england, too, probably used spies, forced to do so for self-defence. he realized the value of the spy's work, and the courage that work required. if these men were captured they would not share the fate of those surrendering in battle but would be shot, or hung, without ceremony. a minute later he was forced into the tonneau of the car, where he lay curled up on the floor. two of the germans sat in the cushioned seat while the two linemen, the one who had been hit still unconscious, were pitched in beside him. the other two germans were in front, and the car began to move at a snail's pace. the man beside the driver began speaking in german, his companion replied. but one of the two behind interrupted, sharply. "speak english, dummer kerl he exclaimed, angrily. "these english people have not much sense, but if a passerby should hear us speaking german, he would be suspicious. our words he cannot hear and if they are in english he will think all is well." "this is one of those we heard of this afternoon," said the driver. "this boy scout. the other is riding to london--but he will not go, so far." he laughed at that, and dick, knowing he was speaking of harry, shuddered. "ja, that is all arranged," said the leader, with a chuckle. "not for long that could not be. but we need only a few hours more. by this time tomorrow morning all will be done. he comes, von wedel?" "we got the word tonight--yes," said the other man. "all is arranged for him. ealing-houndsditch, first. there are the soldiers. then buckingham palace. ah, what a lesson we shall teach these english! then the buildings at whitehall. we shall strike at the heart of their empire the heart and the brains!" dick listened, appalled. did they think, then, that he, a boy, could not understand? or were they so sure of success that it did not matter? as a matter of fact, he did not fully understand. who was von wedel? what was he going to do when he came? and how was he coming? however, it was not the time for speculation. there was the chance that any moment they might say something he would understand, and, moreover, if he got away, it was possible that he might repeat what he heard to those who would be able to make more use of it. just then the leader's foot touched dick, and he drew away. the german looked down at him, and laughed. "frightened!" he said. "we won't hurt you! what a country that sends its children out against us!" his manner was kindly enough, and dick felt himself warming a little to the big man in spite of himself. "listen, boy," said the leader. "you have seen things that were not for your eyes. so you are to be put where knowledge of them will do no harm--for a few hours. then you can go. but until we have finished our work, you must be kept. you shall not be hurt--i say it." dick did not answer. he was thinking hard. he wondered if jack would try to rescue him. they were getting very near bray park, he felt, and he thought that, once inside, neither jack nor anyone else could get him out until these men who had captured him were willing. then the car stopped suddenly. dick saw that they were outside a little house. "get out," said the leader. dick and the telephone man who had not been hurt obeyed, the other lineman was lifted out, more considerately this time. "inside!" said the german with the thick, guttural voice. he pointed to the open door, and they went inside. one of the germans followed them and stood in the open door. "werner, you are responsible for the prisoners, especially the boy," said the leader. "see that none of them escape. you will be relieved at the proper time. you understand?" "ja, herr ritter!" said the man. "zu befehl!" he saluted, and for the first time dick had the feeling that this strange procedure was, in some sense, military, even though there were no uniforms. then the door shut, and they were left in the house. it was just outside of bray park--he remembered it now. a tiny box of a place it was, too, but solidly built of stone. it might have been used as a tool house. there was one window; that and the door were the only means of egress. the german looked hard at the window and laughed. dick saw then that it was barred. to get out that way, even if he had the chance, would be impossible. and the guard evidently decided that. he lay down across the door. "so!" he said. "i shall sleep--but with one ear open! you cannot get out except across me. and i am a light sleeper!" dick sat there, pondering wretchedly. the man who had been struck on the head was breathing stertorously. his companion soon dropped off to sleep, like the german, so that dick was the only one awake. through the window, presently, came the herald of the dawn, the slowly advancing light. and suddenly dick saw a shadow against the light, looked up intently, and saw that is was jack young. jack pointed. dick, not quite understanding, moved to the point at which he pointed. "stay there!" said jack, soundlessly. his lips formed the words but he did not utter them. he nodded up and down vehemently, however, and dick understood him, and that he was to stay where he was. he nodded in return, and settled down in his new position. and then jack dropped out of sight. for a long time, while the dawn waxed and the light through the window grew stronger, dick sat there wondering. only the breathing of the three men disturbed the quiet of the little hut. but then, from behind him, he grew conscious of a faint noise. not quite a noise, either, it was more a vibration. he felt the earthen floor of the hut trembling beneath him. and then at last he understood. he had nearly an hour to wait. but at last the earth cracked and yawned where he had been sitting. he heard a faint whisper. "dig it out a little--there's a big hole underneath. you can squirm your way through. i'm going to back out now." dick obeyed, and a moment later he was working his way down, head first, through the tunnel jack had dug from the outside. he was small and slight and he got through, somehow, though he was short of breath and dirtier than he had ever been in his life when at last he was able to straighten up--free. "come on!" cried jack. "we've got no time to lose. i've got a couple of bicycles here. we'd better run for it." run for it they did, but there was no alarm. behind them was the hut, quiet and peaceful. and beyond the hut was the menace of bray park and the mysteries of which the germans had spoken in the great grey motor car. chapter xv a daring ruse harry, furious as he was when he saw graves allowed to go off after false accusation that had caused his arrest, was still able to control himself sufficiently to think. he was beginning to see the whole plot now, or to think he saw it. he remembered things that had seemed trivial at the time of their occurrence, but that loomed up importantly now. and one of the first things he realized was that he was probably in no great danger, that the charge against him had not been made with the serious idea of securing his conviction, but simply to cause his detention for a little while, and to discredit any information he might have. he could no longer doubt that graves was in league with the spies on whose trail he and dick had fallen. and he understood that, if he kept quiet, all would soon be all right for him. but if he did that, the plans of the germans would succeed. he had already seen an example of what they could do, in the destruction of the water works. and it seemed to him that it would be a poor thing to fail in what he had undertaken simply to save himself. as soon as he reached that conclusion he knew what he must do, or, at all events, what he must try to do. for the officer who had arrested him he felt a good deal of contempt. while it was true that orders had to be obeyed, there was no reason, harry felt, why the lieutenant should not have shown some discretion. an officer of the regular army would have done so, he felt. but this man looked unintelligent and stupid. harry felt that he might safely reply on his appearance. and he was right. the officer found himself in a quandary at once. his men were mounted on cycles; harry was on foot. and harry saw that he didn't quite know what to do. finally he cut the gordian knot, as it seemed to him, by impounding a bicycle from a passing wheelman, who protested vigorously but in vain. all he got for his cycle was a scrap of paper, stating that it had been requisitioned for army use. and harry was instructed to mount this machine and ride along between two of the territorial soldiers. he had been hoping for something like that, but had hardly dared to expect it. he had fully made up his mind now to take all the risks he would run by trying to escape. he could not get clear away, that much he knew. but now he, too, like graves, needed a little time. he did not mind being recaptured in a short time if, in the meantime, he could be free to do what he wanted. as to just how he would try to get away, he did not try to plan. he felt that somewhere along the route some chance would present itself, and that it would be better to trust to that than to make some plan. he was ordered to the front of the squad--so that a better eye could be kept upon him, as the lieutenant put it. harry had irritated him by his attempts to cause a change in the disposition of graves and himself, and the officer gave the impression now that he regarded harry as a desperate criminal, already tried and convicted. harry counted upon the traffic, sure to increase as it grew later, to give him his chance. something accidental, he knew, there must be, or he would not be able to get away. and it was not long before his chance came. as they crossed a wide street there was a sudden outburst of shouting. a runaway horse, dragging a delivery cart, came rushing down on the squad, and in a moment it was broken up and confused. harry seized the chance. his bicycle, by a lucky chance, was a high geared machine and before anyone knew he had gone he had turned a corner. in a moment he threw himself off the machine, dragged it into a shop, ran out, and in a moment dashed into another shop, crowded with customers. and there for a moment, he stayed. there was a hue and cry outside. he saw uniformed men, on bicycles, dashing by. he even rushed to the door with the crowd in the shop to see what was amiss! and, when the chase had passed, he walked out, very calmly, though his heart was in his mouth, and quite unmolested got aboard a passing tram car. he was counting on the stupidity and lack of imagination of the lieutenant, and his course was hardly as bold as it seemed. as a matter of fact it was his one chance to escape. he knew what the officer would think--that, being in flight, he would try to get away as quickly as possible from the scene of his escape. and so, by staying there, he was in the one place where on one would think of looking for him! on the tram car he was fairly safe. it happened, fortunately, that he had plenty of money with him. and his first move, when he felt it was safe, was to get off the tram and look for a cab. he found a taxicab in a short time, one of those that had escaped requisition by the government, and in this he drove to an outfitting shop, were he bought new clothes. he reasoned that he would be looked for all over, and that if, instead of appearing as a boy scout in character dress of the organization, he was in ordinary clothes, he would have a better chance. he managed the change easily, and then felt that it was safe for him to try and get into communication with dick. in this attempt luck was with him again. he called for the number of the vicarage at bray, only to find that the call was interrupted again at the nearest telephone center. but this time he was asked to wait, and in a minute he heard jack young's voice in his ear. "we came over to explain about the wire's being cut," said jack. "dick's all right. he's here with me. where are you? we've got to see you just as soon as we can." "in london, but i'm coming down. i'm going to try to get a motor car, too. i'm in a lot of trouble, jack--it's graves." "come on down. we'll walk out along the road towards london and meet you. we've got a lot to tell you, but i'm afraid to talk about it over the telephone." "all right! i'll keep my eyes open for you." getting a motor car was not easy. a great many had been taken by the government. but harry remembered that one was owned by a business friend of his father's, an american, and this, with some difficulty, he managed to borrow. he was known as a careful driver. he had learned to drive his father's car at home, and mr. armstrong knew it. and so, when harry explained that it was a matter of the greatest urgency, he got it--since he had established a reputation for honor that made mr. armstrong understand that when harry said a thing was urgent, urgent it must be. getting out of london was easy. if a search was being made for him--and he had no doubt that that was true--he found no evidence of it. his change of clothes was probably what saved him, for it altered his appearance greatly. so he came near to bray, and finally met his two friends. chapter xvi the cipher "what happened to you?" asked jack and dick in chorus. swiftly harry explained. he told of his arrest as a spy and of his escape. and when he mentioned the part that ernest graves had played in the affair, jack and dick looked at one another. "we were afraid of something like that, said jack. "harry, we've found out a lot of things, and we don't know what they mean! we're sure something dreadful is going to happen tonight. and we're sure, too, that bray park is going to be the centre of the trouble." "tell me what you know," said harry, crisply. "then we'll put two and two together. i say, jack, we don't want to be seen, you know. isn't there some side road that doesn't lead anywhere, where i can run in with the car while we talk?" "yes. there's a place about a quarter of a mile further on that will do splendidly," he replied. "all right. lead the way! tell me when we come to it. i've just thought of something else i ought to never have forgotten. at least, i thought of it when i took the things out of my pockets while i was changing my clothes." they soon came to the turning jack had thought of, and a run of a few hundred yards took them entirely out of sight of the main road, and to a place where they were able to feel fairly sure of not being molested. then they exchanged stories. harry told his first. then he heard of dick's escape, and of his meeting with jack. he nodded at the story they had heard from graffer hodge. "that accounts for how graves knew," he said, with much satisfaction. "what happened then?" when he heard of how they had thought too late of calling colonel throckmorton by telephone he sighed. "if you'd only got that message through before graves did his work!" he said. "he'd have had to believe you then, of course. how unlucky!" "i know," said jack. "we were frightfully sorry. and then we went out to find where the wire was cut, and then got dick. but i got away, and i managed to stay fairly close to them. i followed them when they left dick in a little stone house, as a prisoner, and i heard this--i heard them talking about getting a big supply of petrol. now what on earth do they want petrol for? they said there would still be plenty left for the automobiles--and then that they wouldn't need the cars any more, anyhow! what on earth do you make of that, harry?" "tell me the rest, then i'll tell you what i think," said harry. "how did you get dick out? and did you hear them saying anything that sounded as if it might be useful, dick?" "that was fine work!" he said, when he had heard a description of dick's rescue. "jack, you seem to be around every time one of us gets into trouble and needs help!" then dick told of the things he had overheard--the mysterious references to von wedel and to things that were to be done to the barracks at ealing and houndsditch. harry got out a pencil and paper then, and made a careful note of every name that dick mentioned. then he took a paper from his pocket. "remember this, dick?" he asked. "it's the thing i spoke of that i forgot until i came across it in my pocket this morning." "what is it, harry?" "don't you remember what we watched them heliographing some messages, and put down the morse signs? here they are. now the thing to do is to see if we can't work out the meaning of the code. if it's a code that uses words for phrases we've probably stuck, but i think its more likely to depend on inversions." "what do you mean, harry?" asked jack. "i'm sorry i don't know anything about codes and ciphers." "why, there are two main sorts of codes, jack, and, of course, thousands of variations of each of those principal kinds. in one kind the idea is to save words--in telegraphing or cabling. so the things that are likely to be said are represented by one word. for instance coal, in a mining code, might mean 'struck vein at two hundred feet level.' in the other sort of code, the letters are changed. that is done in all sorts of ways, and there are various tricks. the way to get at nearly all of them is to find out which letter or number or symbol is used most often, and to remember that in an ordinary letter e will appear almost twice as often as any other letter--in english, that is." "but won't this be in german?" "yes. that's just why i wanted those names dick heard. they are likely to appear in any message that was sent. so, if we can find words that correspond in length to those, we may be able to work it out. here goes, anyhow!" for a long time harry puzzled over the message. he transcribed the morse symbols first into english letters and found they made a hopeless and confused jumble, as he had expected. the key to the letter e was useless, as he had also expected. but finally, by making himself think in german, he began to see a light ahead. and after an hour's hard work he gave a cry of exultation. "i believe i've got it!" he cried. "listen and see if this doesn't sound reasonable!" "go ahead!" said jack and dick, eagerly. "here it is," said harry. "petrol just arranged. supply on way. reach bray friday. von wedel may come. red light markers arranged. ealing houndsditch buckingham admiralty war office. closing." they stared at him, mystified. "i suppose it does make sense," said dick. "but what on earth does it mean, harry? "oh, can't you see?" cried harry. "von wedel is a commander of some sort--that's plain, isn't it? and he's to carry out a raid, destroying or attacking the places that are mentioned! how can he do that? he can't be a naval commander. he can't be going to lead troops, because we know they can't land. then how can he get here? and why should he need petrol?" they stared at him blankly. then, suddenly, dick understood. "he'll come through the air!" he cried. "yes, in one of their big zeppelins!" said harry. "i suppose she has been cruising off the coast. she's served as a wireless relay station, too. the plant here at bray park could reach her, and she could relay the message on across the north sea, to helgoland or wilhelmshaven. she's waited until everything was ready." "that what they mean by the red light markers, then?" "yes. they could be on the roofs of houses, and masked, so that they wouldn't be seen except from overhead. they'd be in certain fixed positions, and the men on the zeppelins would be able to calculate their aim, and drop their bombs so many degrees to the left or right of the red marking lights." "but we've got aeroplanes flying about, haven't we?" said jack. "wouldn't they see those lights and wonder about them?" "yes, if they were showing all the time. but you can depend on it that these germans have provided for all that. they will have arranged for the zeppelin to be above the position, as near as they can guess them, at certain times--and the lights will only be shown at those times, and then only for a few seconds. even if someone else sees them, you see, there won't be time to do anything." "you must be right, harry!" said jack, nervously. "there's no other way to explain that message. how are we going to stop them?" "i don't know yet, but we'll have to work out some way of doing it. it would be terrible for us to know what had been planned and still not be able to stop them! i wish i knew were graves was. i'd like to ..." he stopped, thinking hard. "what good would that do?" "oh, i don't want him--not just now. but i don't want him to see me just at present. i want to know where he is so that i can avoid him." "suppose i scout into bray?" suggested jack. "i can find out something that might be useful, perhaps. if any of them from bray park have come into the village today i'll hear about it." "that's a good idea. suppose you do that, jack. i don't know just what i'll do yet. but if i go away from here before you come back, dick will stay. i've got to think--there must be some way to beat them!" chapter xvii a capture from the skies jack went off to see what he could discover, and harry, left behind with dick, racked his brains for some means of blocking the plan he was so sure the germans had made. he was furious at graves, who had discredited him with colonel throckmorton, as he believed. he minded the personal unpleasantness involved far less than the thought that his usefulness was blocked, for he felt that not information he might bring would be received now. as he looked around it seemed incredible that such things as he was trying to prevent could even be imagined. after the early rain, the day had cleared up warm and lovely, and it was now the most perfect of things, a beautiful summer day in england. the little road they had taken was a sort of blind alley. it had brought them to a meadow, whence the hay had already been cut. at the far side of this ran a little brook, and all about them were trees. except for the call of birds, and the ceaseless hum of insects, there was no sound to break the stillness. it was a scene of peaceful beauty that could not be surpassed anywhere in the world. and yet, only a few miles away, at the most, were men who were planning deliberately to bring death and destruction upon helpless enemies--to rain down death from the skies. by very contrast to the idyllic peace of all about them, the terrors of war seemed more dreadful. that men who went to war should be killed and wounded, bad though it was, still seemed legitimate. but his driving home of an attack upon a city all unprepared, upon the many non-combatants who would be bound to suffer, was another and more dreadful thing. harry could understand that it was war, that it was permissible to do what these germans were planned. and yet-- his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden change in the quality of the noisy silence that the insects made. just before he noticed it, half a dozen bees had been humming near him. now he heard something that sounded like the humming of a far vaster bee. suddenly it stopped, and, as it did, he looked up, his eyes as well as dick's being drawn upward at the same moment. and they saw, high above them, an aeroplane with dun colored wings. its engine had stopped and it was descending now in a beautiful series of volplaning curves. "out of essense--he's got to come down," said harry, appraisingly, to dick. "he'll manage it all right, too. he knows his business through and through, that chap." "i wonder where he'll land," speculated dick. "he's got to pick an open space, of course," said harry. "and there aren't so many of them around here. by jove!" "look! he's certainly coming down fast!" exclaimed dick. "yes--and, i say, i think he's heading for this meadow! come on--start that motor, dick!" "why? don't you want him to see us?" "i don't mind him seeing us--i don't want him to see the car," explained harry. "we'll run it around that bend, out of sight from the meadow." "why shouldn't he see it?" "because if he's out of petrol, he'll want to take all we've got and we may not want him to have it. we don't know who he is, yet." the car was moving as harry explained. as soon as the meadow was out of sight, harry stopped the engine and got out of the car. "he may have seen it as he was coming down--the car, i mean," he said. "but i doubt it. he's got other things to watch. that meadow for one--and all his levers and his wheel. guiding an aeroplane in a coast like that down the air is no easy job." "have you ever been up, harry?" "yes, often. i've never driven one myself, but i believe i could if i had to. i've watched other people handle them so often that i know just about everything that has to be done. "that's an english monoplane. i've seen them ever so often," said dick. "it's an army machine, i mean. see it's number? it's just coming in sight of us now. wouldn't you like to fly her though?" "i'd like to know what it's doing around here," said harry. "and it seems funny to me if an english army aviator has started out without enough petrol in his tank to see him through any flight he might be making. and wouldn't he have headed for one of his supply stations as soon as he found out he was running short, instead of coming down in country like this?" dick stared at him. "do you think it's another spy?" he asked. "i don't think anything about it yet, dick. but i'm not going to be caught napping. that's a bleriot--and the british army flying corps uses bleriots. but anyone with the money can buy one and make it look like an english army plane. remember that." there was no mistaking about the monoplane when it was once down. its pilot was german; he was unmistakably so. he had been flying very high and when he landed he was still stiff from the cold. "petrol!" he cried eagerly, as he saw the two boys. "where can i get petrol? quick! answer me!" harry shot a quick glance at dick. "come on," he said, beneath his breath. "we've got to get him and tie him up." the aviator, cramped and stiffened as he was by the intense cold that prevails in the high levels where he had been flying, was no match for them. as they sprang at him his face took on the most ludicrous appearance of utter surprise. had he suspected that they would attack him he might have drawn a pistol. as it was, he was helpless before the two boys, both in the pink of condition and determined to capture him. he made a struggle, but in two minutes he was laying roped, tied, and utterly helpless. he was not silent; he breathed the most fearful threats as to what would happen to them. but neither boy paid any attention to him. "we've got to get him to the car," said harry. "can we drag him?" "yes. but if we loosen his feet a little, he could walk," suggested dick. "that would be ever so much easier for him, and for us too. i should hate to be dragged. let's make him walk." "right--and a good idea!" said harry. he loosened the ropes about the aviator's feet, and helped him to stand. "march!" he said. "don't try to get away--i've got a leading rope, you see." he did have a loose end of rope, left over from a knot, and with this he proceeded to lead the enraged german to the automobile. it looked for all the world as if he were leading a dog, and for a moment dick doubled up in helpless laughter. the whole episode had it's comic side, but it was serious, too. "now we've got to draw off the gasoline in the tank in this bucket," said harry. the german had been bestowed in the tonneau, and made as comfortable as possible with rugs and cushions. his feet were securely tied again, and there was no chance for him to escape. "what are you going to do?" asked dick. "are you going to try to fly in that machine?" "i don't know, yet. but i'm going to have it ready, so that i can if i need to," said harry. "that bleriot maybe the saving of us yet, dick. there's no telling what we shall have to do." even as he spoke, harry was making new plans, rendered possible by this gift from the skies. he was beginning, at last, to see a way to circumvent the germans. what he had in mind was risky, certainly, and might prove perilous in the extreme. but he did not let that aspect of the situation worry him. his one concern was to foil the terrible plan that the germans had made, and he was willing to run any risk that would help him to do so. "the zeppelin is coming here to bray park--it's going to land here," said harry. "and if it ever gets away from here there will be no way of stopping it from doing all the damage they have planned, or most of it. thanks to graves, we wouldn't be believed if we tell what we know--we'd probably just be put in the guard house. so we've got to try to stop it ourselves." they had reached the bleriot by that time. harry filled the tank, and looked at the motor. then he sat in the driver's seat and practiced with the levers, until he decided that he understood them thoroughly. and, as he did this, he made his decision. "i'm going into bray park tonight," he said. "this is the only way to get in." "and i'm going with you," announced dick. chapter xviii vindication at first harry refused absolutely to consent to dick's accompanying him, but after a long argument he was forced to yield. "why should you take all the risks when it isn't your own country, especially?" asked dick, almost sobbing. "i've got a right to go! and, besides, you may need me." that was true enough, as harry realized. moreover, he had been investigating the bleriot, and he discovered that it was one of the new safety type, with a gyroscope device to insure stability. that day was almost without wind, and therefore it seemed that if such an excursion could ever be safe, this was the time. he consented in the end, and later he was to be thankful that he had. once the decision was taken, they waited impatiently for the return of jack young. harry foresaw protests from jack when he found out what they meant to do, but for him there as an easy answer--there was room in the aeroplane for only two people, and there was no way of carrying an extra passenger. it was early dusk when jack returned, and he had the forethought to bring a basket of food with him--cold chicken, bread and butter, and milk, as well as some fruit. "i didn't find out very much," he said, "except this. someone from london has been asking about you both. and this much more--at least a dozen people have come down to bray park today from london." "did you see any sign of soldiers from london?" "no," said jack. he was disappointed when he found out what they meant to do, but he took his disappointment pluckily when he saw that there was no help for it. harry explained very quietly to both jack and dick what he meant to do and they listened, open mouthed, with wonder. "you'll have your part to play, jack," said harry. "somehow i can't believe that the letter i wrote to colonel throckmorton last night won't have some effect. you have got to scout around in case anyone comes and tell them all i've told you. you understand thoroughly, do you?" "yes," said jack, quietly. "when are you going to start?" "there's no use going up much before eleven o'clock," said harry. "before that we'd be seen, and, besides, if a zepplin is coming, it wouldn't be until after that. my plan is to scout to the east and try to pick her up and watch her descend. i think i know just about where she'll land--the only place where there's room enough for her. and then-" he stopped, and the others nodded, grimly. "i imagine she'll have about a hundred and twenty miles to travel in a straight line--perhaps a little less," said harry. "she can make that in about two hours, or less. big as they are, those airships are painted so that they're almost invisible from below. so if she comes by night, getting here won't be as hard a job as it seems at first thought." then the three of them went over in every detail the plan harry had formed. dick and jack took their places in the monoplane and rehearsed every movement they would have to make. "i can't think of anything else that we can provide for now," said harry, at last. "of course, we can't tell what will come up, and it would be wonderful if everything came out just as we have planned. but we've provided for everything we can think of. you know where you are to be, jack?" "yes." "then you'd better start pretty soon. good-bye, jack!" he held out his hand. "we could never have worked this out without you. if we succeed you'll have a big part in what we've done." a little later jack said good-bye in earnest, and then there was nothing to do but wait. about them the voices of the insects and frogs changed, with the darkening night. the stars came out, but the night was a dark one. harry looked at his watch from time to time and at last he got up. "time to start!" he said. he felt a thrill of nervousness as the monoplane rose into the air. after all, there was a difference between being the pilot and sitting still in the car. but he managed very well, after a few anxious moments in the ascent. and once they were clear of the trees and climbing swiftly, in great spirals, there was a glorious sensation of freedom. dick caught his breath at first, then he got used to the queer motion, and cried aloud in his delight. harry headed straight into the east when he felt that he was high enough. and suddenly he gave a cry. "look!" he shouted in dick's ear. "we didn't start a moment too soon. see her--that great big cigar-shaped thing, dropping over there?" it was the zepplin--the battleship of the air. she was dipping down, descending gracefully, over bray park. "i was right!" cried harry. "now we can go to work at once--we won't have to land and wait!" he rose still higher, then flew straight for bray park. they were high, but, far below, with lights moving about her, they could see the huge bulk of the airship, as long as a moderate sized ocean liner. she presented a perfect target. "now!" said harry. and at once dick began dropping projectiles they had found in the aeroplane--sharply pointed shells of steel. harry had examined these--he found they were really solid steel shot, cast like modern rifle bullets, and calculated to penetrate, even without explosive action, when dropped from a height. from the first two that dick dropped there was no result. but with the falling of the third a hissing sound came from below, and as dick rapidly dropped three more, the noise increased. and they could see the lights flying--plainly the men were running from the monster. its bulk lessened as the gas escaped from the great bag and then, in a moment more, there was a terrific explosion that rocked the monoplane violently. had harry not been ready for it, they might have been brought down. but he had been prepared, and was flying away. down below there was now a great glare from the burning wreckage, lighting up the whole scene. and suddenly there was a sharp breaking out of rifle fire. at first he thought the men below had seen them, and were firing upward. but in a moment he saw the truth. bray park had been attacked from outside! even before they reached the ground, in the meadow where harry and jack had emerged from the tunnel, and harry and dick saw, to their wonder and delight, that the ground swarmed with khaki-clad soldiers. in the same moment jack ran up to them. "the soldiers have the place surrounded!" he cried, exultingly. "they must have believed your letter after all, harry! come on-there's a boat here! aren't you coming over?" they were rowing for the other shore before the words were well spoken. and, once over, they were seized at once by two soldiers. "more of them," said one of the soldiers. "where's the colonel?" without trying to explain, they let themselves be taken to where colonel throckmorton stood near the burning wreckage. at the sight of harry his face lighted up. "what do you know about this?" he asked, sternly, pointing to the wrecked airship. harry explained in a few words. "very good," said the colonel. "you are under arrest--you broke arrest this morning. i suppose you know that is a serious offense, whether your original arrest was justified or not?" "i felt i had to do it, sir," said harry. he had caught the glint of a smile in the colonel's eyes. "explain yourself, sir," said the colonel. "report fully as to your movements today. perhaps i shall recommend you for a metal instead of court marshalling you, after all." and so the story came out, and harry learned that the colonel had never believed graves, but had chosen to let him think he did. "the boy graves is a german, and older than he seems," said the colonel. "he was here as a spy. he is in custody now, and you have broken up a dangerous raid and a still more dangerous system of espionage. if you hadn't come along with your aeroplane, we would never have stopped the raid. i had ordered aviators to be here, but it is plain that something has gone wrong. you have done more than well. i shall see to it that your services are properly recognized. and now be off with you, and get some sleep. you may report to me the day after tomorrow!" the end none around the world in ten days by chelsea curtis fraser author of "work-a-day heroes," "secrets of the earth," "boys' book of battles," "boys' book of sea fights," "the young citizens own book," etc. the world publishing company cleveland, ohio ------ new york city copyright, mcmxxii, by the world syndicate publishing company printed in the united states of america preface in the infancy of aviation, the early 's, no one dreamed that the close of the decade would see it firmly and permanently established--a leader among the nation's industries. heavier-than-air flight is perhaps the most amazing contribution of the th century. it is easy to thrill to the seeming marvels of our own times, but only the short-sighted thinker believes in the perfection of present scientific progress. the -mile-an-hour airplane which fraser conceived in this book for the speed of the sky-bird ii was little more than so many words when he wrote it. . . . today we have -mile-an-hour fighting planes. today we have in this country an intricate highway system, but perhaps within your own lifetime our highways, and the automobiles which skim over them, will be laughed at as obsolete and useless. thus it is that "the seemingly impossible of the fiction of today becomes outdone by the facts of tomorrow," as the author aptly phrased it. in the idea of going around the world in ten days was as preposterous as that projected by jules verne in when he wrote _around the world in eighty days_. but time has a way of hurling ridicule back as effectively as a boomerang. for we have seen and marvelled at the shattering not only of the mythical eighty-day record but even the ten-day record, as progress wends its ceaseless, ambitious, difficult and almost fantastic way through the years. and so it will be gratifying and, no doubt, amazing to many to read this book and realize the advancement made in aviation since this story was written by mr. fraser, and how many of the ideas he prophesied for airplane advancement that have materialized in less than a score of years. around-the-world flyers, even the most recent, have all flown more or less northerly routes, not following the equatorial belt, which is, as we all know, the earth's greatest circumference. it is this course that our four young heroes take in sky-bird ii, a plane designed and constructed by themselves, containing many features that aeronautics now takes for granted, and some not yet realized, which are, nevertheless, "within the scope of mechanical science," as fraser says. so, it is our opinion, young readers, that in addition to enjoying an exciting story, you will benefit by carefully reading the technical passages, and in doing so, learn to observe your present-day surroundings with a greater perspective--thus adding infinitely greater interest to your view of the world today! the publishers. contents chapter i paul and bob ii the brothers' invention iii the successful model iv planning a big airplane v an air race finish and a challenge vi the missing blue-prints vii who's at the window? viii the sky-bird ii ix the test flight x final preparations xi off for panama xii fighting a devil-fish xiii the strange airplane xiv a familiar face xv the start xvi tricked by rivals xvii across the atlantic xviii an irritating delay xix saved by the searchlight xx a jungle adventure xxi the double loop xxii above the clouds xxiii bombed by rocks xxiv riding an airplane's tail xxv engulfed in a volcano's dust xxvi in australia xxvii paul versus pete xxviii a mix-up in dates xxix a flying rescue xxx an alarming discovery xxxi the finish around the world in ten days chapter i paul and bob "did you say this big air derby around the world takes place this coming summer, bob?" "so dad told me at the breakfast table this morning, paul. the plans have just been completed. he said full details would be in to-day's papers." "and the afternoon edition is out now, for there's a newsie just ahead of us who is calling out the _daily independent_. that's your father's newspaper, too." "it will be in there sure pop, paul." "then i'm going to get a copy right now." the two youths, who but a few moments before had come out of the broad doors of the clark polytechnic institute along with a noisy throng of other students, paused when they reached the newsboy in question, and the taller of the pair bought a newspaper which he shoved into an inner pocket of his raincoat. "we'll look at this in the car on our way home; a fellow can't do any reading in a storm like this," said the purchaser. "let's hurry up a bit, bob; i'm so eager to see what it says about that derby that i can hardly wait to get to the station. say, just think of it--a race around the world by air! won't that be great?" "i'll say so, paul old boy! they ought to smash all existing records. you know that a man named mears made the circuit in thirty-five days about seven years ago, and he had to depend on slow steam trains and steamships, aided by a naphtha-launch." "that's true, bob. now that we have planes we ought to do a lot better. but the big oceans are the trouble for aircraft. the atlantic has been crossed by alcock and brown in a vimy-vickers biplane, and also by our nc- flying-boat under the command of lieutenant read, and by the big english dirigible r- ; but the pacific, with its greater breadth, has seemed so impossible that it has never been attempted." "why should it seem impossible?" "because they can't carry sufficient gasoline to cross the pacific." "but how about the islands?" "the majority are not level enough to permit a landing, and others are too widely scattered. i have made quite a study of transoceanic flight since harry hawker and his partner, grieve, made their unsuccessful attempt last spring to cross the atlantic in a sopwith machine, and for my part i can't see how this proposed derby around the world can all be done by air, when no machine has ever yet been able to hop the pacific." "well, paul, we'll soon be at the station out of this storm, and then we can see what the paper says about it," was the philosophical conclusion of his companion. with that they hurried on down the street, bowing their heads to ward off the sharp sleet as much as possible, while they gripped their school-books under their arms. they were a splendid-looking pair of young americans, probably about eighteen years old, and the manner in which they swung along through the disagreeable drizzle, paying scant attention to it as they laughed and talked, showed them to be full of that boundless energy and gaiety of spirits which only perfect health and participation in athletics can bestow. as paul ross and robert giddings approached the next corner, a young man with umbrella held low in front of him hurried around it and ran into a small italian girl who was carrying a basket of fruit. she was staggered by the collision; her basket was knocked from her arm, and the oranges began to roll in every direction. the child broke into tears, but the cause of her misfortune only paused long enough to say angrily, "confound you, you careless little beggar! why don't you watch where you are going?" and hurried on his way. "say, paul, did you see the way that swarthy-faced chap used that little girl?" cried bob indignantly. "i certainly did," was the no less indignant answer. "that lazy dog ought to be horse-whipped. let's help the child." both boys fell to work with a will, rescued the escaping oranges, and tucked them back in their owner's basket. then, with her grateful thanks ringing in their ears, they hurried on once more. after they had gone a few steps, paul ross observed: "bob, i've seen that fellow before. that was pete deveaux. he used to be an air mail pilot on the same run as my brother john, but was discharged for drunkenness. since that he has blamed john, and has written him several threatening letters, but is too cowardly to face him." by this time they had reached the west th street station of the suburban railroad which runs between the metropolis and various shore towns along the picturesque hudson. they were just in time to catch a train, and found a comfortable seat in a rear coach. then paul brought forth the newspaper he had purchased. what they sought was found on the very first page, prominently displayed under a black-faced heading. "read it aloud, paul," suggested bob, and his friend proceeded to do so. the article was to the effect that the aero club of america, in conjunction with eminent aviation associations of the kind in europe and asia, had planned to stimulate interest in flying by holding an aircraft race around the world, which would start on the morning of july th. all contestants must be at least twenty-one years of age, and furnish an entrance fee of two hundred dollars. they might use any type of aircraft they chose, and could carry as many assistants as they wished, even utilizing trains or steamships, if not less than three-fourths of their journey were made by air; and they must stop at least once in each of four continents, and cross the atlantic and pacific oceans. aside from these provisions, the selection of route was left entirely to each contestant. then followed an imposing list of names of well-known flyers who, it was said, had signified their intention of competing. the article wound up with the statement that prizes aggregating a million dollars would be offered the winners. "one million dollars!" exclaimed bob giddings. "paul, old man, you'd better go in for this!" paul ross's eyes sparkled, but the next moment he laughed and shook his head. "i surely would like to," said he, "but there are just three little things in the way of it." "i suppose you need a machine for one thing?" "yes--and you must admit that's a good-sized item. second, i need two hundred dollars to enter--something i don't happen to have, and something i know mother can't spare in such a hazard. third, i need three years added to my age in order to be eligible." "it does look rather hopeless for you, that's a fact," admitted bob. "that second handicap might be overcome with my father's help, but the other two are real obstacles." "it's mighty nice of you and your father, bob, to wish to help me out in this fashion," said paul; "but, as you state, the other drawbacks cannot be swept aside so easily. perhaps later on, another 'round the world air derby will be pulled off, and i shall have a chance to enter it." "well, if you do, don't forget to count me in as an assistant," declared his friend. "nothing would please me better than to make a trip like that with you, paul." "you certainly shall be welcome if the time ever comes. by the way, bob, john and i have designed a new type of monoplane in our spare time, and for the past two months i have been busy making a three-foot model of this. i hope to finish it in a day or two, and i want you to go with me over to the old fair-grounds next saturday afternoon and give it a test flight, if you will." bob giddings was all interest at once, and plied his friend with many questions concerning his new model, many others of which he had in times past helped paul fly with the keenest delight. the truth is, paul ross and his brother john, the latter a pilot in the government air mail service, were known all over the state of new york as makers of the best-flying model airplanes to be found anywhere. ever since they were small boys in grammar school, the brothers had been constructing miniature monoplanes, biplanes, and seaplanes, which they had pitted against the best product of other lads in the neighborhood and surrounding towns, without once meeting defeat. many of these specimens of youthful ingenuity they still preserved, suspended in bedroom and attic, where they were a never-ending source of interest to visitors at the ross homestead in the outskirts of yonkers. the war had called john into the aviation service of his country, but paul had still continued his experiments in making tiny airplanes, getting his friend robert giddings, who lived in a fine house on shadynook hill, to assist him in the flying. thrown together by their mutual love for mechanics, and being in the same classes all through high-school, paul and bob had formed a strong attachment for each other, although the latter's home was far more pretentious than the former's, since paul's mother was a widow in only moderately comfortable circumstances, while bob's father was the editor and owner of the _daily independent_, one of the leading evening newspapers of new york city. when john returned from the war it was with an incurable passion for flying, and within a few months he had re-entered the service of his country in the peaceful but dangerous work of carrying uncle sam's mails between washington and new york in a big martin bomber. he found that his younger brother's love for aviation had also developed, as well as his skill in constructing and flying model airplanes. some of these recent ones were so novel in design and of such wonderfully ingenious workmanship, that john, who had won unusual honors as an aviator on the french front, was quite thunderstruck, and determined to encourage paul's talents in this line in every way he could. therefore, when the boy graduated from the yonkers high school, and expressed a wish to take up a special course in aeronautical engineering at clark polytechnic institute, john backed him up, and the mother, who would have preferred a less hazardous profession for her younger son, sighingly consented. paul's chum, robert giddings, had also gone to clark polytechnic upon leaving high school, his ambition being to become an electrical engineer. thus both boys continued to be thrown in daily contact. it was their habit to go into the city to school each morning in the sedan with mr. giddings; but as he left the city late in the afternoon they usually took the train back. as the friends now parted, bob giddings' last words were: "don't forget to get that new model airplane done by saturday, paul. i'm crazy to see it." "i'll be ready for you," was paul's assurance; "but remember to keep this under your hat. it's to be a secret test, you know." "trust me," said bob. chapter ii the brothers' invention when paul ross reached home that afternoon, it was to find someone there whom he had not expected to see. a tall, broad-shouldered young man, with a bronzed face and pleasant blue eyes, sat in the living-room, talking to his mother. paul rushed forward and joyfully grasped his brown hand. "why, john!" he exclaimed, "i didn't expect to find you here!" "of course you didn't, buddy," was the smiling response of the young man, who was wont to call his younger brother by this affectionate war-mate term. "the fact is, as i was just telling mother, two days ago i didn't know myself that i would be anywhere at this hour except speeding through the air between new york and washington on my usual mail run in my trusty old martin-bird. as it is, buddy, it looks now as if neither you nor i would ever handle her controls again." there was a note of sadness in john's voice as he said this. "why, what's the matter, john?" asked paul quickly. "it's this way, lad: you know i told you and mother a couple of weeks ago, when i was here on my last regular lay-over, that congress was talking about cutting a big slice out of the air mail appropriation, in order to reduce expenses. well, the upshot of it all is, they made the cut, and not having enough money to carry on the service as it has been, the head of the air mail has ordered the abandonment of all flying divisions except the main line between new york and san francisco. only those pilots will be kept. so that's why i am here." "won't they take you on again soon, john?" asked mrs. ross. "i fear not, mother," replied her elder son, shaking his head soberly. "our field-superintendent did say that he would give me the first opening in the transcontinental line, since my records lead the bunch, and he even offered to displace one of the boys on that route and put me in his place, but--" "but you refused," interrupted paul, with conclusive pride in his big brother. john grinned. "well, put it that way if you like, buddy," said he; "anyhow, as i said before, here i am. some chap may quit or 'go west'--you know a round dozen of the poor chaps have been killed in the last year--and that may let me back in again. but i won't wait for it; i'll get after some of the commercial flying companies next week and see if i can't land a berth with them. i simply can't think of working on the ground. i guess i should have been born a bird, mother, instead of a human being, i love flying so much." "i really believe you would be safer if you were a bird, john," asserted mrs. ross, with an uneasy smile. "birds have no motors to fail them, no fire to ignite and burn them up, as our present airplanes. how many of your own unfortunate associates can lay their untimely deaths to either one of these causes! it was only the last time you were here that you were telling paul and me about the terrible fall howard smith had because his motor stopped, and how his machine ignited, and how he was burned past recognition." "i know," said the veteran airman; "those things will happen at times, mother, even with the most careful fellows. the time will come, i think, and very soon, when stalled motors can be restarted in the air, and when accidentally ignited fuel will burn itself out with no harm to either the machine or its occupants. the fact is, paul and i have some ideas now as to how to overcome those very troubles, along with other improvements, and the first chance we get we are going to build an airplane along these lines and put it to the test, aren't we, buddy?" "we surely are," was paul's enthusiastic response. "one of these fine days, mother, when we get our patents and sell them, you shall live in as fine a home as the giddings's over on shadynook hill, and when you wish to go into the city to do any shopping, john or i will take you in a beautiful sedan airplane which will be safer than an automobile, and which will be guaranteed not to raise a dust or wear out tires." mrs. ross laughed heartily at the glowing picture her second son had drawn, more because he spoke with such seriousness, and because john too wore a matter-of-fact look during the prophecy. "oh, i have some great dreamers here in this little family," she said, as she arose to resume her household duties. "we will hope that some of your dreams come true." her sons laughed good-naturedly; then paul turned to his brother. "come on down in the basement, john," he said; "i wish to show you our latest miniature model, the sky-bird. another day's work ought to finish it." john followed him downstairs. in one corner of the large basement was a good-sized workbench, lighted by two windows, and equipped with several neatly-arranged shelves, which now held a divers collection of chisels, bits, countersinks, etc. in a splendid oak cabinet attached to the wall above was a more extensive array of wood- and metal-working tools, some of which the brothers had bought with money earned at odd jobs when they were still small boys. since, they had added to their set from time to time, as they needed this tool or that, until now few professional mechanics could boast of a finer assortment. suspended from a hook directly over the bench was a beautiful six-foot model of a racy-looking monoplane of peculiar and striking design. it was glistening in several coats of spar-varnish, and so light and delicate was its spidery frame that, as john reached out to take it in his hand, the exhalation of his breath set it swaying away from him. "my word, it's a light boy all right!" exclaimed john admiringly, as he carefully took hold of the pretty thing. "that's just the feature we've tried to get, too, buddy,--lightness." he looked closely at the long, graceful pair of wings, which were of an unusual thickness and a slight upward thrust like those of a bird, and which widened batlike as they ran back and joined the rear fuselage or body of the craft. "have you put the helium-gas in these wings yet, paul, as we planned? i see you have installed the valves. there's a valve in the after-fuselage, too." "the wings and fuselage are both filled," said paul; "that is what makes the sky-bird so light. if you had brought more helium the last time you were here, i could have pumped in twice the quantity, i think, and that would have made her so light she would rise of her own accord, i really believe. as it is, she now weighs less than a half-ounce. i had the scales on her yesterday." john shared his brother's enthusiasm. "fine!" he cried, with sparkling eyes. "why, that's almost a neutral condition, as she is! buddy, if we can apply this principle to a full-size machine--and i don't know why we can't--we shall have solved the biggest problem facing airplane designers to-day. with a machine weighing only a trifle more than her load of fuel and baggage, she will not only fly a lot faster but go a lot farther, with a given supply of fuel, than the present-day planes. and what is more, she could attain good speed with a single engine of reasonable power, where now many machines are handicapped with the burdensome weight of an extra power-plant. when will she be ready to test out?" "i had planned to give her a trial in the old fair-grounds saturday afternoon," said paul. "i've asked bob giddings to go along." "that's all right; bob is a fine lad," said john; "but since you have set the trial for saturday afternoon, and bob's father is usually at home at that time, why don't you ask him to view the affair also? i'm sure he would enjoy it. he's a great sportsman, you know, like most newspaper men, and considerably interested in aeronautics." "i had not thought of it; i'll do it," was the prompt response of paul. "but we must warn him to silence, john. whatever happens, we don't wish this to get into the _daily independent_." "i'd say not," rejoined the former air mail pilot sententiously. "mum's the word; we've got something here, buddy. unless i'm greatly mistaken we'll be consulting with the patent office at washington much sooner than little mother anticipates." he poked paul in the ribs as he spoke, and both young men gave vent to a low chuckle of intense satisfaction. it was an even greater pleasure to look forward to surprising their mother than to astonishing the world and winning its plaudits. as good an airplane mechanic and flyer as john ross was, his younger brother was little behind him in the matter of skill in handling a modern machine. it had been john's habit to return to yonkers every two weeks for a week's lay-off, as customary with other pilots in the air mail service. on these occasions he had arrived in his plane, and during the term of his stay had often taken paul up into the air for pleasure flights, as well as his chum bob giddings. both boys were keen students, and it was not long before john could trust them to operate his big martin with every confidence. once, indeed, he and paul had been caught over long island sound in a bad storm, when the latter was in the pilot's seat, but paul had brought the craft through like a veteran, winning his brother's unstinted praise and undying respect. chapter iii a successful model mr. giddings was glad to accept the invitation to the trial flight. he and his son met the ross boys at the old race-course saturday afternoon. this immense, level field, with its one-mile oval and great empty sheds, at one time had been the county's boasted fair-grounds, but two years prior to the opening of our story it had been sold to mr. giddings, whose residence property stretched down the side of shadynook hill and joined it. new fair-grounds had then been established in another and more centrally located section of the district. in the old grounds the boys of the neighborhood now went to fly their kites and model airplanes, to hold impromptu bicycle and foot races, and to play tag and hide-and-go-seek in the cavernous sheds and around the numerous sagging stables. it was late in the afternoon--just before dusk, when the winds would be at their quietest, and others not likely to be present--that our friends arrived at the field. there was not a soul to be seen. paul, who had carried his precious sky-bird, freed it from the wrapper and held it up for mr. giddings to see. the night before he and john had put the finishing touches to the delicate structure by adding another coat of varnish and attaching the little rubber-tired aluminum wheels to the axle. as paul now held it up before the gaze of the great newspaper man, mr. giddings made no effort to restrain his admiration. "what a little beauty!" he cried. "why, it's almost a perfect mechanical representation of a bird!" "isn't she a dandy, dad?" put in bob, his eyes snapping. "the sky-bird is really more of a bird than you may think, mr. giddings," declared paul. "yes," added his brother john. "as you probably know, sir, a bird gets its great buoyancy from the fact that every bone in its body is hollow; in flight it fills these bones with a very light gas, which is formed by an action of its lungs in drawing in air. we have adapted this principle in the wings and fuselage of this little machine. they are airtight and filled with compressed helium-gas, which is non-inflammable and nearly as light as its highly volatile rival, hydrogen-gas." "hydrogen-gas is surely a dangerous commodity around fire," said mr. giddings. "i understand that when the big english dirigible r- came across the atlantic last summer she was filled with hydrogen, and that her commander and crew all wore felt-soled shoes, so that they would not by any chance cause a spark when they walked over her metal floors and ladders just beneath her great bag." "that is true," vouched john ross. "one little spark reaching any of that stored hydrogen would have torn that great dirigible into fragments in one gigantic blast." "we have handled recent newspaper copy containing mention of this new gas, helium; but i must confess i am in the dark regarding its nature and source," said mr. giddings. "what is it, anyway?" "i will refer your question to paul here," replied john. "he is the one who worked out this idea of using helium in an airplane and giving it the best properties of a dirigible without any of the dirigible's handicap of clumsiness and excessive wind resistance. he has been studying the properties of helium in school, also the flight of birds." "well, not to get into a tiresome discourse, as professor herron would say, i shall make this description very rudimentary," said paul, with a smile. "during a total eclipse of the sun in india in , lockyer, a british astronomer, saw in the spectroscope a bright, yellow line of light around the sun. he called it _helium_, after the greek word for sun. so much for him. twenty-seven years later an element was found on earth in natural-gas in kansas, which gave the same bright, yellow light viewed through the spectrum. the people, finding it would not burn, disgustedly let millions of barrels of this valuable element escape into the air, before a scientist told them that it was of untold value for balloon and airship purposes. it is thought the gas comes from radium deposits. it has never been found in any country except the united states, and only here in kansas and northern texas, where it occurs in sands from , to , feet deep. our government is now securing about , cubic feet of helium per day, refusing to sell it to foreign countries, as it is all needed here, besides which it might be used against us in case of another war." while paul had been telling this, mr. giddings had been busy jotting something down in shorthand in a notebook. "pardon me, paul," he said, looking up with a smile, "but this is so mighty interesting that, before i knew it, my old-time reportorial instinct had gotten the best of me, and i found my pencil at work. if you have no objection i should like to use this in the columns of the _daily independent_ some time when it seems to fit in." "no objection at all, sir," assured paul. mr. giddings began twirling the little twelve-inch two-bladed propeller at the nose of the model airplane. "what do you use for power to turn this propeller?" he asked, after admiring its perfect proportions for a moment. "i don't see any rubber-bands, such as robert here has always used on his little machines." john deftly lifted off the thin veneer hood of the airplane, and disclosed a very small four-cylindered rotary pneumatic engine of bewitching simplicity and lightness, which a baby could have held out in its pudgy palm. "paul has worked this little motor out of aluminum and brass and steel, from odds and ends," said john. "with more or less help on the part of my elder brother," interjected paul. "well, perhaps with a little," admitted john, "more suggestive than otherwise." "what sets it going?" questioned bob, curiously. "the fuselage is divided into three sections," said paul. "the forward section contains the engine here; the rear section is an airtight chamber containing helium; and the central section is also an airtight chamber, but contains ordinary air which has been pumped into it through a valve, using the bicycle pump john is carrying, until it is under strong pressure. when i turn this little valve an outlet is opened for the air to escape by a tube into branches communicating with each of these four cylinders. this works the tiny pistons, much the same as gas in a gasoline-motor, and they turn the little crank-shaft to which they are connected, and the crank-shaft in turn revolves the propeller on its end." "wonderfully simple!" mr. giddings exclaimed. "wonderfully ingenious, too! is this your invention, young men?" "partly, sir," replied paul. "i understand, a company in new york is making a somewhat similar pneumatic motor for model airplanes, but john and i have made some radical improvements, to our notion. to-day's test will tell the story." "let's see the propeller spin 'er up once for the fun of it," suggested bob. "it won't do any harm, will it? dad and i will hold on to the airplane." "get a good grip then," warned john ross, "for you will find there's a terrific pull to the little rascal. paul and i tried her in that fashion early this morning down in the basement." bob and his father secured firm holds of the little sky-bird, one on each side, where the propeller could not strike them. "ready?" asked paul, with a smile. "ready!" came the answer in unison. paul touched the little valve in the tank chamber of the fuselage. the next moment there was a quiver, and then the propeller began fairly to hum. a strong, steady gust of air began to blow in the faces of the giddingses, while they had to hang on grimly in order to keep their little charge from jumping out of their arms and dashing away into the air. for fully three minutes the propeller continued to whirl with undiminished speed, then slowly it began to slow up, and finally stopped. both mr. giddings and his son wiped their hot brows as they handed the plane over to its makers. "whew!" said bob, "that little mule has got a lot of pull to her." "that she has," supplemented his father. "what sort of material is her frame made of?" "balsa-wood," said john. "i never heard of that. is it something new?" "yes,--to the arts of civilization, but i presume it has been used by the indians of ecuador, where it grows, for scores of years in the making of rafts, for which it is particularly well adapted. the tree looks much like our southern cottonwood, and the wood apparently has no grain. it has a surprising toughness and strength, and is a trifle over half the weight of cork, weighing only . pounds per cubic foot, while the same sized piece of cork weighs . pounds." "has this wood ever been used in constructing full-sized airplanes?" asked mr. giddings. "i think not; but paul and i believe it will be the coming wood for them," said john with enthusiasm. "we have used it plain on this machine. on a large airplane it ought to be reinforced with transverse sections of very thin spruce laid latticewise. that would add considerably to its natural strength, and increase the total weight very little." "h'm, h'm!" said the great newspaper publisher, "this is very interesting, i am sure. now let us see how this little affair behaves itself in the air." paul and his brother led the way out into one corner of the big field, so as to bring what slight breeze might spring up into the head of the airplane, explaining that machines without a pilot would keep a better keel under such conditions. john then carefully attached the bicycle-pump and recharged the air-tank, following which he took out his watch to time the flight. mr. giddings and bob also took out their watches. paul set the little sky-bird down on the hard earth, in a spot where there was no grass or other obstacle, and with his finger on the air-valve, said: "practically all rubber-band motors require starting the model airplane off by picking it up and tossing it away from you up into the air; but i think this machine will rise from the ground like a large plane, on account of its great lightness and unusual power. we will now see if i am right." to tell the truth, this being the first time he had really tried the sky-bird in a flight, paul was nervous as he turned the valve, removed his hands from the graceful little plane, and straightened up. with a whirr like the wings of a partridge as it is flushed out of the grass by the huntsman's dog, the small machine shot forward a few feet over the smooth ground, then gracefully arose in the air and started away toward the opposite corner of the field. as it proceeded it continued to rise, until it reached a height of possibly ninety or a hundred feet, when it began to dip unsteadily. "it's a gust of wind striking it," remarked john uneasily. "i hope she weathers it. if there was only a pilot in her now, he could----" but even as he spoke the sky-bird seemed to recover her balance. making a pretty circle, away she sped on her course, neither rising nor falling. like a real bird she sailed onward, the noise of her whirring propeller now lost to her fliers, but her little pale-yellow silk wings against the blue sky plainly tracing her course for them. paul was running after her now as fast as his legs could carry him. what if she should keep right on and go over the far fence?--he might lose the little darling! that fence was a good half-mile away. for his pet to cover such a distance had not seemed within the bounds of probability to either himself or john at the start, for all of their great confidence in the flying powers of the new model. now, as he kept on running and the sky-bird continued going with no sign of dropping, paul really became alarmed for her safety in landing. but just before it reached the boundary of the grounds, the youth saw that the airplane was slowly settling. into the next field it flew, and the high board fence shut it from paul's view as he came up to it. with a jump he caught the top boards, and scrambled up, springing down on the opposite side. it was to see his little machine just miss the branches of an oak tree and settle down into some long grass about a hundred yards beyond. he found it undamaged, and hurried back to his friends in the fair-grounds, his heart beating jubilantly at the splendid results of the flight. he hugged the small airplane to his heart as if it were the most precious possession in the world, as indeed it was to him. mr. giddings and bob were loud in their praise, and john smiled in that quiet way that told the younger brother how well pleased he was. it was found that the sky-bird had passed over the lower fence in just one minute and three seconds, which was certainly good speed for such a diminutive contrivance. several other flights were then made, all of which were equally successful. at the conclusion bob giddings was so excited that he could hardly stand still. "dad, isn't this little thing simply a wonder?" he exclaimed. "i'd give anything in the world if i could own a big fellow built on this principle. i'll bet it would pass anything now made." his father looked thoughtful for a moment. then, turning to the ross brothers, he observed: "do you think, boys, that these features could be successfully applied to a full-sized airplane?" "there's no doubt at all about it, to my mind, sir," replied john ross. "that's the next thing paul and i propose doing, although i expect we shall have a hard time getting enough money to meet the expense of materials. of course we shall have the regular type of gasoline engine in place of this pneumatic arrangement, as this principle won't apply to big machines. i figure a horse-power liberty engine would carry such a machine two hundred miles an hour." again mr. giddings was silent a moment. then he resumed: "john, i hear that you have been laid off from your air mail job. is that right?" "it is, sir." "well, then, i am going to make a proposition to you and paul, and in a way robert may consider himself involved, too, i expect. as you may know, robert plans to be an electrical engineer, and mrs. giddings and myself are anxious to encourage him in every way we can. for some time he has been experimenting with wireless telegraph and telephone apparatus, and has made some sets of the latter which it seems to me are an improvement over anything now on the market, particularly a set for airplane use, which he has no means of properly testing out on account of the lack of the airplane. now my proposition is just this: i will meet every expense of making a first-class full-sized airplane like the sky-bird, and pay you, john, a wage equal to that which the government allowed you as a pilot, if you three young men here will do the construction work secretly, and if robert may be allowed a one-third interest in the venture, both in the plane to be made, and in any future benefits to be derived from the patent rights." of course the delighted john and paul accepted this splendid offer, and bob giddings was so happy at the prospect of a fine big airplane in which to install his wireless apparatus that he actually hugged his father. they repaired to the giddings home, and there, in true business form, a contract was drawn up and duly signed by all interested parties, with a notary's seal attached. with a copy in their possession, the ross boys hurried home, after having dinner with the giddings family, to acquaint mrs. ross with the good news. chapter iv planning a big airplane as planned, the much-talked-of air derby around the world took place from mineola field, new york, on the th of july. a great crowd had been attracted, owing to the extensive accounts of the affair in the big newspapers for the past several months, and a thrilling hush fell over the assemblage as, at high noon, one after another of the famous flyers took off in various types of aircraft. there were four big dirigibles, two of which started to cross the atlantic at once, while the others took a northerly course with the intention of making the final hop from st. john's, newfoundland, in accordance with several previous attempts of other aircraft. besides these, seven heavier-than-air machines started, all making for newfoundland also. four of these were flying-boats, two were seaplanes, and the other was a double-propellered biplane. needless to say, the ross boys and bob giddings and his father were present to see the machines off. they had arrived in the big automobile of the publisher, and were greatly interested in every detail of the departure. several of the contestants john ross knew, having met them at some time during his flying periods, and it gave him a chance briefly to renew old acquaintanceship and personally to wish them good luck on their long journey. of course our friends would have given a whole lot to have been able to compete in the novel contest themselves, but that was out of the question. when the last machine had disappeared from sight, they took their departure. mr. giddings left them at the office of the _daily independent_, following which bob drove paul and john out to some of the city's beautiful parks. late in the afternoon they again stopped at the newspaper building and picked up bob's father, thereupon turning the car in the direction of yonkers. altogether they had passed a very pleasant holiday. "robert tells me that your plans for the new airplane, the sky-bird ii, are just about finished, john," remarked mr. giddings, as they sped northward along the smooth surface of riverside drive, with its beautiful greenery on the left and its fine residences at the right. "yes, sir," said john; "we have been devoting every spare moment to them. of course a good many changes had to be made to adapt conditions from the little airplane to the big fellow, and to incorporate the extra pet features we all agreed upon were desirable. you know it never pays to start building an important and costly affair like an airplane without having every detail thoroughly planned out, and perfect working drawings in hand. i think paul will complete the drawings early next week, including copies for accompanying the specifications when we apply to washington for patent rights. as soon as the drawings are done, we will drop in at your home in the evening and show them to you." "good!" said mr. giddings. "i shall await them with great interest. i suppose as soon as i approve these drawings, you fellows will all pitch into the actual work." "we surely will, sir," laughed paul, while bob, at the wheel in front, having caught some of the conversation, called back with energy: "that's just the size of it, dad." "we have everything all ready," continued paul. "the balsa-wood and spruce we ordered some time ago is on hand, and that will keep us busy until other needed materials arrive. we have repaired the big exhibition building in the old fair-grounds, put on new double doors and purchased a good yale lock for them. john and i have taken our workbench and tools over there, and bob has helped us rig up a nice little five-horse power motor and small handsaw, also a circular saw, home-made sand-drum, a small planer, and a boring-machine. that building is dry, and has lots of room in it for housing the new airplane as it grows to maturity. when cold weather comes we can easily install a couple of heating-stoves to keep ourselves comfortable and protect our materials and the machine from frost damage." mr. giddings expressed himself as well pleased with these arrangements. as he noted the foresightedness of the young mechanics his confidence in them expanded. "don't hesitate to order anything you need, young men," he said warmly. "have them send the bills to me. if my trust in you is misplaced, i am willing to stand the consequences. this is not only the best kind of a practical education for bob, but it is good business training for all of us. go ahead; go ahead!" with such strong encouragement, is it any wonder that the three young men continued their operations vigorously? not one of them scarcely wanted to stop long enough to eat and sleep, _a la_ edison; and as it was now summer vacation time, paul and bob were able to be with john all day long in the old exhibition building. neighboring boys and even older people hung around the open doors to watch operations, but the builders were careful not to let them get close enough to gain any ideas which might be harmful to their interests. on tuesday evening of the week following the start of the air derby, john and his brother put on their best clothes and hied themselves over to the giddings home. in paul's hand was an envelope containing the precious plans for the sky-bird ii--completed at last by the young draftsman, and ready to be shown to the financial member of the quartet. when they were all seated in the giddings library a little later, mr. giddings scrutinized the plans with every evidence of satisfaction written upon his strong features. now and then he would ask a question, as paul explained view after view and detail after detail. at length he pointed to an oblong object situated in the pilot's cockpit just under the dashboard. "what is that?" he asked, curiously. "that is what john and i call an 'automatic pilot,'" answered paul. "it is a new form of stabilizer, and made so as to overcome the defects of others which are on the market. a stabilizer should automatically keep an airplane on a fairly level keel no matter how air conditions are, even so steady that it will travel along on its course for a considerable distance with the pilot paying no attention to his controls, perhaps eating his lunch or reading his orders." "a mighty useful contrivance," commented mr. giddings. "i should think that would also prevent lots of accidents in bad winds." "it will--if it turns out as we expect," paul remarked. "give me the full details of this," was the request. "remember, i am not much of an airplane man." "well," said paul, "you know, sir, that it is far more difficult to drive an airplane than to guide an automobile, not merely because you have two steering-gears or rudders to take care of, one for sidewise and the other for up-and-down travel, but also because there are movable planes in the wings of the machine, which have to be worked to tip or 'bank' it when making a turn or to keep it on an even keel when a gust of wind strikes it. the 'rudder' is the vertical plane at the tail of the machine, and is used for steering sideways, while the 'elevators' are the two horizontal movable planes just below the rudder, which are used for steering up and down. similar planes to the latter, one situated in the back edge of each upper wing, are called 'ailerons,' and one or the other is raised or depressed according to whether the aviator wishes to bank to the right or left. "the driver of an automobile has nothing to do but watch his steering-wheel, and be ready to touch a pedal when he wishes to slow up or go faster or stop. if he makes a curve he does not have to bank his machine owing to his comparatively slow speed; but the aviator, traveling much faster through the air, must do this, bringing his airplane to a steep angle if he makes a very short turn. if he does not calculate just right, he is likely to turn upside down and meet this death in a nasty fall. "while the careful automobilist can always see the road in front of him and avoid rough spots or obstacles before he reaches them, the aviator cannot do this. it is true that he can see another airplane if it gets in his way, or a church steeple when he is flying low; but his greatest dangers are in the clear air itself, where they cannot be detected. he may suddenly drop into a 'hole,' which is really a downward current of air, or he may get a terrific bump when he strikes a rising current. a freakish whim of the winds may unexpectedly take away the air support from under one of the wings, and he will lurch and dip sharply to one side." "and i suppose sometimes lose all control?" said mr. giddings. "yes, sir; that has very often happened," put in john. "a flyer friend of mine took a nasty tumble that way near cleveland last year, breaking three ribs. it's a wonder he wasn't killed." "the pilot is blind to these pitfalls," went on paul. "he must control his machine largely by intuition and the sense of feeling, although the veteran airman, john says, can tell a good deal about what to expect from the nature of the earth or clouds below him." "that's true," averred john. "the closer you are to the earth the more you will feel the 'bumps,' as we call them. they are a whole lot like the waves of the ocean, only invisible, and there will be one straight over every protuberance or depression of size in the surface of the earth. mountains, hills, houses, lakes, valleys, rivers, forests, all cause bumps or holes in the air up above them. at one thousand feet they are pretty bad. at ten thousand feet they are scarcely noticeable. that's why most pilots prefer to fly high whenever they can." "what causes the air to act in this way over such configurations?" propounded the publisher. john looked helpless, and smiled. "you've got me there," he admitted. "i haven't had the opportunity to study aerostatics the same as paul here. he can probably tell us." "i'm not through my course yet," reminded his brother, "but i think i can answer that. the air surrounding the earth is a great belt forty or more miles through and is of an even thickness. as our globe sweeps through it, the lower stratum of air naturally sinks down into the valleys and like depressions. this action pulls down the upper stretches of air, thus creating what are termed 'air-pockets' or 'air-holes.' very dangerous they are, too." "that is plain enough," declared bob. "now, dad, let paul go on explaining this 'automatic pilot.'" "if the aviator is enshrouded in fog or tries to sail through a heavy bank of clouds, he is quite likely to lose all sense of direction," continued paul. "he will not know whether he is banking or traveling on an even keel. sometimes pilots have come out of a low cloud to find themselves dangerously close to the earth and in an awkward position, perhaps in a steep bank, a side-slip, or even in the terrifying nose-dive, and they have not had time to right themselves before crashing to earth. so you see that before flying can become reasonably safe, some way must be found of keeping the machine automatically on a level keel. "to operate this stabilizer of ours all the pilot will have to do is to guide the rudder with his feet. the automatic pilot works the elevator and the ailerons. it takes care of 'bumps' and 'holes' and sees that the machine banks at just the right angle on the turns. this makes the operation of an airplane containing the stabilizer even more simple than running a motor-car, because you do not have to worry about going into different speed gears when climbing or descending. you will notice on this drawing that strong piano-wires connect the instruments with all the necessary controlling planes of the machine." "instruments?" interrogated mr. giddings. "i thought there was but one." "no; there are two stabilizers, as you will see,--here, and here," was paul's response, pointing his finger to the parts. "but, as each one is exactly like the other in its construction, only the one has been drawn in detail. the other stabilizer runs lengthwise of the cockpit and takes care of the elevator. both of these are operated by compressed air, which proceeds from a little tank, right here. the tank is kept supplied by two tubes which lead into it, and each of which joins a small pump operated by a fan which is right here on each side of the fuselage where the onrush of wind will keep it humming as the airplane travels. "each equalizer has a bore in it half-filled with mercury, working a good deal like a carpenter's level. if the airplane tilts to one side or the other, the mercury will try to keep its level and will immediately flow to the high side of the bore. at each end of this mercury tube there are electrical contact points. as one becomes submerged in the mercury by a tilting of the plane, a connection is made whereby two electro-magnets are energized on that side. one of these magnets closes an exhaust-valve, and the other opens an inlet-valve, in the compressed air tank. at once air is forced into this double cylinder, which you see at the bottom of the stabilizer, filling the half which is to operate its own set of rudders; and a piston begins to work inside. the piston is connected to a toothed rack, as you will note, causing this to turn a sector engaging it. the control wires connect with this sector." "very clever arrangement; but i don't quite see how, in banking, the ailerons can be brought back automatically to a neutral position as soon as the turn has been completed," ventured mr. giddings. "john and i have provided for that, while bob is responsible for the electrical features i have just mentioned," said paul. "you will notice that at the top of the mercury channel there is a dividing wall. a tube runs from the left side of this wall to the right wing of the airplane, also from the right side of the wall to the left wing. at the end of each tube there is what we call a 'venturi tube.' this is a kind of suction device operated by the wind. the wind which blows through the left venturi tube sucks the air out of the right-hand side of the mercury tube, and the right venturi tube sucks the air out of the left-hand side of the mercury tube. the stronger the wind, the greater the suction. now, when making a turn to the right the left wing must travel faster than the right wing, and so there must be more suction in the left venturi. this produces a greater suction in the right-hand side of the mercury tube, which draws the mercury up on that side and down on the other, until the proper electrical contact is broken and the ailerons are returned to neutral position." "can the mechanism be thrown out of gear when desired? i should think such a feature might be desirable," remarked mr. giddings. "indeed it is desirable, sir," declared paul. "no red-blooded pilot wishes to sit still and let his machine run itself all the time, no more than an automobilist. that would spoil all the sport. by merely disengaging the automatic pilot's wires here at the sector--the work of a couple of seconds--the airplane is ready for hand control." "how much does it weigh?" was the gentleman's next query. "a trifle less than a hundred pounds." "that oughtn't to handicap an airplane any." "not a bit," said paul. chapter v an air race finish and a challenge all in all, mr. giddings expressed himself as more than pleased with the drawings for the sky-bird ii. at the end of the explanation, he put the papers back in the envelope, and asked: "have you another set of these drawings in ink, paul?" "yes, sir; this is a copied set; the original drawings from which we will make our tracings and blue-prints are at home." "you had better leave them there in a safe place, and work from your blue-prints in the old exhibition building at the fair-grounds, being careful to lock them up in your workbench every time you depart. i think you boys have a valuable thing here, and it is to your interest to keep others from knowing your plans or seeing the airplane until we have full government protection in the shape of patent rights. i shall turn this set of drawings over to a patent attorney in the city and ask him to make application to the patent office in washington without delay." the next morning all three boys, filled with new confidence and energy, met at the fairgrounds as soon as they had had their breakfasts. paul carried two rolls of fresh blue-prints, which he and john had made while their mother was preparing the meal. one of these sets he gave to bob to take home as his own special property, and the other one he spread out on the workbench for consultation as their needs required. up to this time no effort had been made to keep children and curious adults out of the grounds, but as their machine was now beginning to take on real form, they determined to do this. on a piece of board, paul printed in large letters, "private grounds; keep out," and bob nailed this up on the outside of the high board fence at the entrance. the gate itself they closed and barred on the inside. "guess that will be a sufficient hint to the grown-ups," said bob with a grin. "if the kids climb over, we'll fasten a red flag to the front of our big hangar and paint 'dynamite' in letters a yard long across the front of the building." "yes, and if that doesn't keep them away we'll turn the hose on them," laughed john. then they fell to work on the new airplane, applying themselves like beavers. all three boys had had the splendid benefits of manual training when they were in the public schools, and knew how to handle every machine they had set up. in addition to this, paul and bob were first-class amateur machinists, as their courses of engineering in clark polytechnic embraced the use of metal-working appliances of the latest design, as well as wood-working machinery, and they could have operated other machines had they needed them. that evening the workers went back home tired but well satisfied with their progress. the next day the shavings flew again, and by the latter part of the week they had begun to assemble portions of the fuselage, using a waterproof glue which had been especially prepared for airplanes, and applying galvanized screws to withstand rust in damp atmospheres. as the days went by, the boys, like almost everybody in the country, watched the newspapers eagerly for reports of the progress of the contestants in the big air derby around the world. only four of the eleven aircraft to start had succeeded in getting across the treacherous atlantic, two of these being dirigible balloons, one a flying-boat, and the other a vickers-vimy biplane. after landing on european soil one of the lucky airships came to grief in italy in making a stop for fuel, but the driver had obtained an italian caproni plane and was making his way eastward with all haste. the other dirigible, commanded by americans, had reached teheran, persia, where gas-bag troubles had compelled her crew to continue by train. about the same time the flying-boat, piloted by a boston man, and the biplane, in control of two englishmen, had reached yokohama, japan, within a few hours of each other. it was said that these contestants would wait there for the first steamship going to san francisco, as they feared it would be impossible to fly across the great pacific stretch of almost five thousand miles. upon reaching san francisco they planned to continue the journey to new york in airplanes furnished by california aeronautical friends. the newspapers shortly after this announced the sailing of the rival parties at yokohama. storms and fog delayed the vessel. finally she arrived at the golden gate, and then came the mad race across the north american continent in fresh airplanes. near cheyenne, wyoming, the american plane was forced to the ground by engine trouble, allowing her competitor to get ahead several hours. this lead the american could not overcome, and the race ended at : o'clock on the afternoon of july th, with the english crew first and the american crew second. three days later the belated french crew, who had met with mishap in italy, came in, winning third prize. the ross brothers were at work in the hangar when bob giddings, who had gone into town on his motorcycle after some more screws, came back waving the copy of the _daily independent_ containing this last account. "cartier and his bunch have arrived," he cried, springing from his machine. "here it is on the first page. that accounts for all the prize-winners, and the excitement is practically over. the others will just lob in now--and they might as well." he tossed the paper to john. "here, read it, you fellows," he said. "you can quit on the sky-bird long enough for that, i guess. i'll work while you lay off a few minutes." bob rolled up his sleeves, and john and paul spread out the newspaper on the bench and interestedly read the article in question. as they finished, and were turning around to resume work, bob observed: "dad's got a rattling good editorial on this air derby, if i do say it. take a look at page and see how he rips 'em up the back." shoulder to shoulder, the two brothers leaned over the bench and read as follows: "around-the-world" records the world has just witnessed the finish of another effort on the part of mankind to circle the globe in record-breaking time. and once more the newspapers of the universe, and the sporting chroniclers, are registering a new record in this class of human endeavor. when, three days ago, the english team, headed by chester hodge, dropped out of a curtis plane into mineola field, it was just days, hours and minutes after the same crew had left that field in their vickers-vimy. this beats the former record of days and some odd hours, made in by john henry mears, by the substantial margin of approximately days. it is a big gain--a startlingly short time for encompassing the world as compared with the efforts of the past. all of the three contesting crews to finish have broken mears's record, and deserve great credit for their praise-worthy performance. the sponsors for this first great air derby around the world, the prominent aero clubs of this country and the eastern hemisphere, also deserve much praise for conceiving and promoting such a successful contest, and in posting such magnificent prizes. but, in the interests of other similar tours likely to follow, this newspaper thinks it high time to declare itself opposed most vigorously to two fundamental features governing the competition just closed. first, why was this contest called by its promoters an "air derby"? in our opinion, with rules allowing the use of other modes of travel as well as aircraft, the title is a decided misnomer. it should have been termed a "go-as-you-please derby." not a single one of these contestants accomplished the girdle by airplane alone; every winner took a steamship across the pacific. here's hoping that when another 'round-the-world contest is pulled off it will be tagged with a title which fits. second, when a specific record trip around the world is promulgated, is it scientifically correct to take a route which is approximately per cent shorter than the actual circumference of the universe on which we live? in a foot race around a circular track judges do not let sprinters pick out their own course and "cut across lots" whenever they choose. nor is it allowed in horse races, auto races, or any form of sport where time records are registered on curving courses. the _daily independent_ contends that beginning with jules verne's mythical hero phileas fogg, who in the story negotiated the journey in the improbable time of days, back in , every record-maker in the flesh and blood has followed northerly routes averaging the th parallel, thus traversing only about , miles of the world's actual circumference of , miles; and these records have gone down as true and complete accomplishments! but, because a wrongful practice, one misrepresentative of its purpose, has been carried on for almost a century, is it any reason for arguing that the process should continue in this advanced and enlightened day? we say no! it is time for this practice of around-the-world humbug and cheatery to stop right now. if it takes our fastest modern globe-trotters a whole year to go around the world by a route equal to or approximating the equatorial girth, then let it take them a year; for the sake of our pride and all that is good and sincere let us do our stunts on the square. there are no records of an equatorial trip around the world. who will be the first to establish one? let us run a pen through all these short-cut records of the past, and turn a clean page for the entry of the first real journey around the fat old world's belt. as paul finished the editorial his heart was beating very fast. he was a true sportsman, and he realized the truth in the bold stand taken by the _daily independent_. his brother john was no less favorably affected by it. "bang me, if that isn't a good article!" said john enthusiastically. "mr. giddings may get a lot of criticism for this from a certain class of people, but he's taking the right course." "he certainly is," approved paul. "i had never thought of it before, but he points the error out so clearly that almost anybody ought to realize the need of a fairer route after reading his statements. just as he says, it's never too late to correct matters which have been going wrong, no matter how long." "i'd give anything i've got if i could be the first fellow to go around the world's belt," declared john, his brown cheeks glowing with deeper color at the thought; "i wouldn't care so much about beating these other chaps in the matter of time, just so long as i made a fair trail." "oh, john, wouldn't that be a great trip!" cried paul. "say, look at here," broke in bob giddings, who had been near enough to overhear all of this conversation. his face was glowing, too, as he turned toward the brothers. "when we get the sky-bird ii done, why couldn't the three of us pick out a new course around the globe in her? if she's as good as we think she will be, we could travel over any kind of land or water with her, and i think we could pick out islands in the pacific so that we could cross that and make the entire journey by air." "i believe this old ship could do it all right," said john, full of confidence and thrilled at the idea, as he stepped back and looked at the partly-assembled fuselage with a loving eye. "but, bob, a trip like that would cost a lot of money just for gas, and you know paul and i could hardly afford it." "i'm going to speak to dad about it, anyhow," decided bob; "he has been talking airplanes and world routes at home to mother and me for the last three months, and maybe he will be interested enough to back us up. he never stops at anything when he once sets his mind on it." it was several days after this that bob giddings came to work with another newspaper in his hands. "things seem to be coming our way as fast as they can," he said, with a mysterious smile. "take in what mr. wrenn, the editor of this paper, says in this framed insert on the front page." john and paul did as directed. the article was prominently displayed, and was to the effect that the _clarion_ disagreed very strongly with the attitude adopted by its contemporary, the _daily independent_, in regard to around-the-world routes. it declared that it was physically impossible by any mode of modern travel to follow a route along, or even within twenty degrees of, the equatorial line, and said it was a shame to assail the creditable records made in the past. in conclusion it stated: if our esteemed sheet, the _daily independent_, feels so cock-sure of its position, why does it not do a little demonstrating? why does it not organize an expedition, and prove its claim? this is all bunk! we are so sure of it, that we right now challenge our misguided friend to run us a race around the world on a course of his own selection, at any time, by any mode of travel he may choose. there! we have knocked the chip off of the _daily independent's_ shoulder. now let's see if our friend is really a bluffer or a fighter. "you know the _clarion_ is a powerful evening newspaper, too," said bob, when the ross boys looked up from their reading. "it has always been a hot rival of dad's paper, but it never got quite so sarcastic as this before. dad was good and mad when he read this last night. 'i'll show both the _clarion_ and the public whether i'm a bluffer or not,' he said to mother. 'if it takes the last cent i've got i'll organize an expedition to meet their challenge and prove my theory to be the correct one.' then i woke up to our opportunity. i suggested to dad that if the sky-bird turned out as we hoped, she would be the very thing to pioneer such a route and give the _clarion_ people a race to make their eyes stick out; and i said john ross was willing to head a crew including paul and myself." "what did he say?" asked john and paul, almost in the same breath. "well, he gave a little gasp; his eyes snapped, and he quit walking the floor and sat down on the davenport. 'robert,' he said, 'i'll think this matter over.' then he lit a cigar and went to smoking. dad seldom smokes except when he's got something heavy on his mind." john and paul now joined bob in putting a knee-brace in the new airplane body. somehow they had a feeling that the parts they were assembling with such care would one of these days go on a very long and arduous journey. chapter vi the missing blue-prints the air derby created interest all over the world. people in foreign lands talked about it and read about it in their newspapers, just as they had done in the united states and canada. with the keenest kind of interest they had followed the reports of its progress and its finish. several nations had hoped to have their own representatives come in first, only to be disappointed. all this interested world pricked up its attention anew when the bold editorial of the _daily independent_ was widely copied. as john ross had predicted, and as probably mr. giddings knew before he wrote it, this particular article caused a furore of comment editorially and otherwise. much of this,--indeed, it seemed the most of it--was favorable to the stand taken by the new york publisher. but when the rival sheet, the _clarion_, arrayed its strong force in opposition, the conservative element of the public felt vastly encouraged, and many were the heated personal arguments as well as newspaper duels, which ensued. aviators all over the land were particularly concerned, and it goes without saying that the winners of the late competition were all lined up with the _clarion_ contingent. this paper's challenge to the _daily independent_ for a two-party race around the world on the _independent's_ own conception of what it considered a fair route awoke great joy in the hearts of the leave-things-as-they-have-been adherents. few, if any of them, particularly the publishers of the _clarion_, thought mr. giddings would ever take up the challenge. therefore, judge of the surprise of everybody, and the dismay of the _clarion_ staff, when a few days following the flaunting of its challenge, the front page of the giddings paper contained the following, under a heavy black type heading: this paper accepts the "clarion's" challenge a short time ago the _daily independent_ in an editorial strongly criticized the methods or rather routes used in the past in making world tours for a time record, stating that such journeys had all been made unfairly, in that the routes adopted were about a third less than the actual circumference of the globe, and that in our opinion the only legitimate around-the-world record could be made by following approximately the equatorial line. we expected a good deal of criticism, of course, when we came out thus boldly against a custom which had prevailed since the beginning of so-called "around the world" record trips. but we did not expect to be challenged to prove our sincerity by ourselves making such a journey in competition with our esteemed but rabid contemporary, the _clarion_. to show the _clarion_ that we are not "bluffing," and that we are perfectly willing to demonstrate practically any position we ever take, we herewith accept its challenge. even now we have in process of construction a new type of airplane, by means of which we are confident we can fly approximately straight around the belly of this old world entirely by air. a little later we shall announce a time, place, and route, in our columns, and sincerely trust the _clarion_ will be satisfied with them. it is quite unnecessary to say that paul and john ross read the foregoing article with the keenest pleasure the night they reached home from the hangar and found their mother just finishing its perusal. naturally mrs. ross felt all of the average mother's anxiety at the thought that her sons would be exposed to the perils such a long journey would invite, but on the other hand she was very proud to think their talents had placed them in such an honored position. it had only been an evening or two before that mr. giddings, in company with his son robert, had called at the ross homestead, and after a long conference with the boys as to the suitability of the new sky-bird ii for making a world cruise, had taken his departure with his mind fully made up as to how he should meet the rival paper's challenge. a few days subsequently, bob giddings found, upon reaching home for lunch, that his motorcycle, which he was in the habit of riding back and forth to work, so that he could rush into town on short notice and get emergency materials for the airplane, had a flat tire. as he could not fix the tire then, he decided to walk back to the fair-grounds. as he emerged from the big front yard of his home, he chanced to look toward town, and observed an orange-colored taxicab standing near the first crossing. this would not have especially attracted bob's attention, except for the fact that a man sitting on the front seat was just at that moment pointing his index finger toward the giddings' place, and a slender-looking man just descending from the cab was looking that way and nodding his head. it seemed to bob that he had seen the passenger before, but a second look made him think he must be mistaken; at least he could not place him. "it's probably somebody to see dad. if so, he'll get disappointed, as dad won't get back from the city before evening." dismissing the incident from his mind with this thought. bob hurried down the road, eager to reach the hangar and get to work again on the new airplane. a few moments after he had passed the home of a youth he knew, he heard a familiar salutation, and turned around to wave his hand in a greeting to this friend, who had come to the front door. as he turned, his eye fell on a slender figure some distance behind, a figure which stepped behind a tree and stopped. "humph! that's funny," mused bob. "it looks a lot like that fellow who got out of the taxi back there by our house; i wonder what he's up to, anyhow?" he continued his way, but as he reached the fair-grounds gate and got out his key to unlock it, the whim to look back again seized him. as he turned, his gaze once more rested on the slender form of the wayfarer, who had crossed to the opposite side of the road, and who now, finding himself observed once more, promptly stopped and began to fuss with his shoe-lace. "say now, this is funny!" ejaculated bob under his breath, vainly trying again to recall the identity of the lean figure and dark complexion. "i believe that chap is trying to shadow me. i wonder what in the dickens he really is up to?" it was the second time bob had asked that question of himself, but as he was a poor source of information just then, he was forced to pass into the fair-grounds and relock the gate in as mystified a state of mind as before he put the query. a little later, when he reached the big hangar he whirled about again, as if half expecting to see the stranger still skulking behind him in the grounds. to his relief he did not detect this situation exactly, but he did see a dark face, which had been peering over the top of the highboard fence near the gate, drop down from view on the other side. bob gave a grunt as he passed into the hangar and took off his coat. "as i live, i believe he's up to some sort of mischief," growled the boy. and when, shortly afterward, john and paul ross appeared he told of his experience and repeated his suspicions. "that is funny," asserted john; "paul and i saw nothing of any such man when we came along, and we passed down the same road. perhaps he mistook you for somebody else." "i hope so, but i don't like his actions a little bit," declared bob stoutly. with that he picked up a try-square and pencil and began laying out some work for paul to cut on the circular saw, while john busied himself at the boring-machine in putting a hole through the center of the big twelve-foot balsa-wood propeller which a little later would be reinforced with a thin jacket of a new metal called "salinamum," which was made chiefly from salt but whose fused components made it as light as aluminum and stronger than tool steel. soon the queer actions of the stranger were quite forgotten in the deep interest of the three young men in their work. with the prospect of a world tour before them if the sky-bird turned out well, they now had more incentive than at the beginning to build the machine with the utmost skill and attention to every detail. some changes, calculated to make the craft better adapted to the peculiar conditions she would be likely to meet in such a varied temperature were put into effect, but on the whole they found their original plans so well laid that no important features seemed to require modification or abandonment. but if the man who had followed bob dropped out of their minds the rest of that day, he was soon to occupy a prominent place in their thoughts. for the very next morning, when paul and john arrived at the hangar, they were met at the door by a very agitated bob giddings. "fellows, what do you think has happened?" cried bob, clearly very much excited. without giving his friends time to answer the question he blurted out: "somebody got in here last night and stole our plans!" "stole our plans!" reiterated paul and john in the same gasp. "that's it," said bob,--"stole the set of blue-prints we have been working from. what's more, they must have seen the airplane before they got out. i went to take the plans out of the bench drawer here where we have kept them locked up, and there was the drawer wide open, the lock picked, and the drawings gone. i'll bet a herring we can thank my dark-skinned shadow of yesterday for this little visit!" "it does look as if he might have had something to do with this," agreed john soberly. "i wonder how the rascal, whoever he is, could have gotten in the building. there's a heavy yale lock on the doors." "the doors were locked all right when i came this morning," vouched bob. "i don't see myself how--" "here you are, gentlemen!" called paul, who had stepped to a good-sized window near the head of the workbench. "here's the fellow's private entrance!" and he pointed to where a heavy nail locking the lower sash had been forced aside, also to a series of indentations in the outer sill, where some prying tool had obviously been recently at work. "it's a clear case of theft, that's sure," observed john; "and since its only our plans that have been taken, it goes to show that this chap is very much concerned about this new airplane." "perhaps he wishes to beat us out in getting the patent rights," bob hinted darkly. "no, i don't think it's that," differed paul; "our application was sent in to washington some weeks ago, and you know the first one to apply for a certain patent gets the attention." "well, then, he could use our plans and make and sell airplanes of their pattern, couldn't he?" asked bob, whose ideas of patent laws were still a little vague. "not at all; if he did we could sue him for infringement," was paul's answer. "the only way he could profit by this theft, so far as i can see, would be to construct a machine for his own private use, or to give to another person. we could not touch him for that." "and that would be bad enough for us--if such a machine were used against us in this proposed race around the world, wouldn't it?" demanded bob giddings. paul and john ross looked at him in dismayed astonishment. they had not thought of this contingency before. chapter vii who's at the window? the making of a big airplane is a good-sized job. especially is this the case with the first airplane made up from new plans. and when the job has to be done by no more than three young men, it becomes an unusually formidable task. the loss of the blue-prints did not hold up the progress of our friends in the least, as it was only the matter of fifteen or twenty minutes' work for paul to make a new set from the tracings he had at home; but there were unexpected difficulties met here and there in the constructive work, as is always the case in large mechanical undertakings of an original nature, besides which the young builders ran into the usual delays caused by slow deliveries of parts and materials from distant dealers and manufacturers; and sometimes the railroads were tardy in transporting shipments. all in all, the summer slipped away only too quickly, and it came time for paul and bob to go back to school again with sky-bird ii not more than half finished. it is true that the long fuselage of the craft was done, with its graceful curves and splendid, roomy, enclosed cabin, accommodating five persons; but all concerned were a little disappointed that more progress had not been made. mr. giddings had been quite a frequent visitor at the fair-grounds all through the summer, lending a voice of encouragement throughout the operations. he looked really concerned, however, when paul and bob had to return to clark polytechnic institute for the new term of study. "this is rather hard on us, isn't it, boys?" he observed, with a light laugh in which he unsuccessfully tried to conceal his anxiety. "here we are with a half-completed airplane, a race staring us in the face for next summer, and two of our workmen snatched away for the whole winter by the inexorable demands of school life, leaving only one lone fellow to finish the job." "we'll be able to work saturdays, dad," ventured bob, trying to wedge a little bit of cheer into the gloomy prospect. "and evenings. i'd be willing to work after supper every night for a couple of hours," proposed paul. "you won't do any such thing," came the firm answer. "while you are at school you two fellows need your evenings for rest and study, and your saturdays for the school-team sports. only when there isn't a game on in which you are a contestant will i allow you to help john on the machine--even if it isn't finished for five years. i have been thinking this situation over for some time, for i have seen it coming," went on the great publisher after a moment's pause; "and i have come to the conclusion that the best thing i can do to hustle our ship along is to call in another workman on the job, some chap we can trust and who knows how to handle tools. in fact, if he were a regular airplane mechanic it would be all the better." john ross spoke up at once. "mr. giddings," he said, "i think you have the right idea. bob and paul can't help me much from now on, and if we take that trip around the world next summer this machine must be done some weeks ahead, so that we can have a chance to test her out and tune her up. now, it happens that paul and i have a cousin--tom meeks--who is about my age and who flew in the same squadron with me over on the french front during the war. i will vouch for tom's ability as a mechanic and flyer, also as to his trustworthiness. it happens my mother just received a letter from tom's folks in illinois the other day in which she said the factory had closed down in which he was working and he was out of a job." "and you think this tom meeks would be willing to come up here, then, and help you this winter for the salary i am paying you?" questioned mr. giddings with interest. "i think he would, sir." "then write to him immediately, and tell him to come right on." in less than a week a strapping big young man, suitcase in hand, got off the train at the yonkers depot, and was warmly greeted by his cousins, paul and john ross, who then introduced him to bob giddings. bob had been so eager to see the new helper on the airplane that he could not wait for a later meeting with him. he took instant liking to the jolly newcomer, who seemed to be ever smiling, and after a short exchange of conversation with him hurried home to tell his father what a splendid fellow tom meeks was. tom was domiciled in the ross home, to which he had been a visitor in other years, and of course for the rest of that evening was kept busy visiting with mrs. ross and looking at the numerous miniature airplanes of paul's. his praise of the little sky-bird, and particularly of the drawings of sky-bird ii was very strong, and when he went to the fair-grounds the following morning with john and actually saw what a fine-looking ship the big craft was, he was stumped for words to express his full admiration. then while john and tom went industriously to work, paul and bob rode away to clark polytechnic in new york with mr. giddings. just before starting into the city that morning, the newspaper man had met tom, and there was little doubt that he was well pleased with this addition to his force of workers. of course paul and bob were sorry to have to interrupt their labors on sky-bird ii, but there was no help for it, and there was some consolation in the thought that undoubtedly their instructors would let them work on some of the airplane's smaller parts as a portion of their school mechanical practice. this supposition indeed proved correct, and as the fall days passed they found the two student chums not only partaking with full spirit in the sports of their comrades, but also contributing in no small measure to the progress of the work on the new airplane. as a rule, paul and bob managed to stop in each saturday for at least an hour or so to lend some assistance to john and tom, and when there were no school contests on, they spent practically the entire holiday in the hangar. the cool days of november soon compelled the boys to install a couple of heating stoves in the big building, and after that the place was warm and cheery throughout the working day, no matter how blustery and nippy the weather. at night the coals were carefully banked with ashes, to keep up a fair degree of warmth until the following morning. up to this time nothing had been seen of any suspicious person lurking around the premises, but one afternoon late in the month, when tom meeks was working alone in the hangar and john had gone to town after some bolts, tom thought he heard a strange sound at one of the two windows near the workbench. turning quickly from the wing-strut which he had been setting in place, tom faced the window just in time to see a swarthy-looking countenance, adorned with a toothbrush-like mustache, pulled out of range. the mechanic had been informed of bob's experience with the man who had evidently followed him to the grounds during the summer, also of the blue-prints which had been stolen, and now as he observed the similarity in looks between this eavesdropper and the reported shadow of bob, he became quite excited. with that lack of coolness and presence of mind characterizing a more reserved temperament, the impulsive tom rushed straight up to the window, and peered out. of course he could see nothing, for the peeper had been cute enough upon finding himself observed to keep close to the side of the building as he moved swiftly toward its rear. tom now seized the lower sash and tried to throw it up, so as to get a sidewise view. to his disgust he found it double-spiked, and realized that he had put that very second nail in himself upon first learning of the loss of the blue-prints. "huckleberry pie!" sputtered tom, using his favorite expression when excited. he whirled about and started for the door of the building. on account of the extensive size of the structure it was quite a little way to this. to make matters worse tom dashed forward in such haste and flurry that he did not watch his step very closely; when he was about half-way to the door, his toe caught the protruding leg of an innocent sawhorse, and the next moment tom meeks and the sawhorse were both overturned. "huckleberry pie!" gasped the big fellow. his right shin hurt like fury, but he would not stop to examine it, and covered the remaining distance to the door in very ludicrous limping jumps. dashing around the front of the building, he reached the corner which gave him a view of the side. not a soul was in sight. not to be outdone completely, tom hurried along the side of the building. as he came near the rear end he saw a slender figure just clambering over the highboard fence of the field in the rear of the hangar. lame as he was, big tom knew there was no chance of his overtaking the fleet-footed and cunning stranger, so he returned to his work very much crestfallen in spirit. when john heard what had happened, on his return to work, he was considerably disturbed, and suggested to his comrades the advisability of placing a night-guard on the premises for a while at least, since this unknown enemy might make an effort some night to burn or irreparably damage the sky-bird. the others sanctioned this precaution, and thereafter took turns in watching, although this vigilance was apparently all for naught, as no suspicious character appeared. chapter viii the sky-bird ii "well, mr. giddings, what do you think of sky-bird ii?" asked john ross, one memorable day. there was a smile of deep satisfaction on john's own bronzed features as he put the question, a smile which was duplicated on the faces of his three co-workers--paul, bob, and tom meeks. it was the latter part of march, easter vacation week for paul and bob, and the two chums had been working every one of the last three days helping john and tom put the finishing touches on the big new airplane. and now this friday morning it rested gracefully upon its own rubber-tired wheels, its great stretch of wings spread out as airily as those of a monster bird, its huge two-bladed propeller glistening like burnished silver, and its body running backward in a splendid symmetrical taper, to end at the well-proportioned tail. sky-bird ii was done at last. mr. giddings was so lost in admiration at the beautiful lines of the craft that he did not reply immediately to john's question. he had not seen it for almost two weeks, and in that time, under the onslaughts of the four boys, it had changed appearance in a striking way, numerous finished parts having been connected and paint and varnish having been applied. "all i have to say, young men, is that if she performs anywhere near as well as she looks, i shall be thoroughly satisfied with the money i have invested thus far," declared the great newspaper man with an enthusiasm which he did not try to conceal. his eyes were shining, as he walked around the craft looking at it from all sides. he rubbed his fingers lingeringly over the smooth fuselage, and smiled quietly as he regarded the name "sky-bird ii" lettered in large blue characters on her sides and underneath each long bird-like wing. then he mounted a folding step and went through a neat door into the glass-surrounded cabin. this was deep enough to stand up in, and provided comfortable upholstered cane seats for the pilot and four passengers or assistants. all of these seats except the pilot's and observer's were convertible, forming supports for the swinging of as many hammocks, and in a small space at the rear was a neat little gasoline-burner, and over it a built-in cupboard containing some simple aluminum cooking ware. "well, i declare!" said mr. giddings in amazement at the convenience of things, "it looks as if you fellows hadn't left out a single item needed in a long and enjoyable cruise." "there's nothing like being fixed up for all emergencies, sir," laughed john. "as you notice, we have everything for night-flying as well as day-flying. with such a machine as this there is no reason why a crew of four or five could not run nights as well as days, two operating while the others sleep in the hammocks. cold foods can be cooked or warmed up on the gas-stove when needed, and the enclosed cabin protects all hands from the worst effects of bad storms." "wouldn't this glass break in a hailstorm?" asked mr. giddings. "it seems to be pretty thin." "it is thin," said paul; "that is to give it lightness. it might check some in a hailstorm, but it could not break out, as it is made of two layers of glass between which is cemented a thin sheet of celluloid." "i think you had two liberty motors here in the hangar when i was here last. i neglected to ask you the power of these, and what you need two for," observed mr. giddings. "i thought you said in the beginning that you considered one horse-power engine of sufficient strength to carry this plane at a fast clip." "it is this way, sir," responded john. "the regular big biplane of the bomber type carries two propellers with an engine for each propeller. if one motor fails them when flying, about all the other is good for is to make a landing with. by reason of the great lightness of our airplane one good horse-power motor is all we need for pulling purposes. but suppose this should fail, as any motor might do? we could not continue, any more than the other fellow, and would have to volplane to the ground. again, suppose we wished to fly continuously more than twelve hours? we could not do so, as such a steady run would heat the best motor and ruin it. these two liberty motors, which we have, overcome all these troubles. both are so arranged that a simple switch connects and disconnects either one with the propeller, and both can be put at work at the one time if needed in a bad storm. if one stalls, the other can immediately be thrown in and a forced landing obviated. moreover, if we could get fuel when needed, with this arrangement i am safe in saying we could fly steadily day and night, resting one motor and working its mate, for a week or more." "what is this?" as he spoke the publisher touched a peculiar-looking helmet hanging from a hook near the pilot's seat. bob laughed. "why, don't you recognize the products of your talented son, dad?" he cried, as he took the object down and clapped it over his father's iron-gray head. "that's my new wireless telephone headpiece, and right underneath it here is the mahogany cabinet containing the sending and receiving instruments. you see, these two wires run from the plug up to the receivers, there being one receiver in each side of the helmet, right over your ear, pressing against the ear tightly by means of a sponge-rubber gasket." "a man looks like a padded football player with this thing on," said mr. giddings with a smile. "why is a helmet required at all?" "we wouldn't require it so much with these motors, as they are equipped with a new kind of muffler which shuts out about four-fifths of the noise other airplanes get," explained bob. "but for all that there are always noises in airplanes; for instance, they say the whirr of the propeller when it is revolving about revolutions per minute, or at the full speed of this one, makes quite a roar; so you see the need of the helmet to shut out all undesirable sounds possible. in ordinary planes the crew cannot talk to each other except by using phones or putting their lips to each other's ears and yelling at the top of their voices, according to what john and tom tell me. but we don't expect to have that trouble in this enclosed cabin and with this new muffler working, do we, fellows?" "i'm sure we won't," said john. "not if i'm any judge," grinned tom. "can you talk with a ground station when you're flying, say a couple of miles high?" asked mr. giddings, examining a transmitter attached to a yoked wire support which his son slipped over his shoulders. "farther than that. with this particular vacuum tube, which will amplify sounds three or four times over any other i have tried, we expect to talk with ground stations or other aircraft at a distance of three thousand miles. notice what a simple thing it is, dad," and bob indicated a little glass bulb which looked a lot like an ordinary incandescent light, but which had a peculiar arrangement of wires and substances inside. "is the transmitter or receiver made just like the ordinary kind?" asked mr. giddings. "practically the same, dad. the wireless transmitter, like that of the wire telephone, contains a sensitive diaphragm which your voice strikes and sets to vibrating. these vibrations compress and release a capsule of carbon granules which agitate and set in motion an electrical current in two magnets connecting with them. the magnets convey the sound-waves in the form of electrical waves, along wires out to the tip of each wing, where the wires hang down a little way. when a message comes in it is caught by a webbing of antennae wires in our wings." "then i suppose these sound-waves, in other words the words one speaks, run out of the end of these wires into the atmosphere?" "exactly, sir," agreed bob. "that is, the electrical waves are projected into the air and disturb this air in a way to make it pulsate in the same manner as your voice makes the diaphragm pulsate. these waves are then carried through the atmosphere in every direction, and sooner or later reach the antennae wires of some station equipped to receive them. down these wires they dash, are registered and magnified in the wonderfully delicate vacuum tube, and from it are carried up into the receivers at your ears." "i should think they would be electrical impulses when they reach the receivers," argued mr. giddings. "how can a person hear _words_ from electrical discharges?" bob smiled. "easy enough, dad," he went on. "you see, this vacuum tube does the business. the electrical current agitates this in unison, and the impulses are immediately converted into words again,--and there you are!" "i acknowledge my understanding now," admitted mr. giddings, with a hearty laugh; "but there's just one thing yet i want light on: where do you get your electrical current? it takes a dynamo to make electricity, else storage batteries. i don't see either." "come outside here a moment, dad." bob smiled as he led the little party out of the sky-bird's cabin. when they once more stood on the hangar floor, he pointed to a peculiar t-shaped object just beneath the nose of the airplane. this had escaped the gentleman's observation until now. "it looks like a small propeller with a torpedo sticking out from the middle of it," laughed mr. giddings. "so it does, dad," agreed bob. "well, that's our wireless dynamo. you will notice that the propeller faces ahead, like the big fellow here. when the airplane is flying, the rush of wind spins the fan at a terrific rate, its axle operates a little dynamo in this torpedo-like case and manufactures electric current. the current then passes into this small apparatus here with a bulb attached, which regulates the voltage and sends it up to the instruments in a uniform flow, no matter at what speed the airplane may be going." "that's a cheap way of getting current," declared the newspaper man, "and a mighty good one, too." he now changed the subject by asking: "how much do you suppose this machine weighs?" "i have been in smaller ones which weighed, unloaded, as much as three thousand pounds," admitted john ross, with a peculiar smile. "put your hands under the sky-bird's nose here and see if you can lift her, mr. giddings." "don't joke that way, john," expostulated mr. giddings. "why, her engines are right above this portion of her, and i couldn't lift one of them alone." "just try it anyhow, dad," persisted bob, who also wore that queer smile. more to accommodate them than because he expected to accomplish anything, the publisher half-heartedly braced himself in a crouching position and pushed upward on the airplane's front. to his amazement the whole forward part of the machine rose upward a foot in the air, as if it were made of paper. "my word!" exclaimed mr. giddings, letting the craft back upon its wheels. "who would have thought such a thing? i had faith in this principle of the hollow wings and helium-gas, boys, but i never thought it could reduce the normal weight of the plane to such a vast extent, it is truly a wonderful idea." "you might not believe it, but the sky-bird weighs less than two hundred pounds as she stands," said paul. "just before you came today, mr. giddings, bob and i, one at each end, easily lifted her clear off the floor." "it's what we aimed for, and we've got it," added john with satisfaction, while tom meeks nodded his head and ejaculated, "i'd say so! i'd say so!" his whole broad face abeam. "this feather lightness means great lift, great speed, and great cruising range." "i should think so surely," was the decided response of the newspaper man. "i notice you have installed that 'automatic pilot' too. and what's that up here in front on top of the cabin? a searchlight, as i live!" "yes, dad," said bob; "we thought that would be a good thing in case we do any night traveling on this tour of the world. it ought to have good power, being operated with current from the storage batteries of the wireless wind-dynamo." after a little more inspection and further questions, mr. giddings took his departure, promising to be on hand at the hangar the following morning for the test flight. chapter ix the test flight john, paul, and tom reached the fairgrounds a good full hour ahead of the scheduled start that saturday morning. in fact, mrs. ross had given them an earlier breakfast than usual, so that they could give the sky-bird ii a general going over before it came time for her to make her initial flight. of course all three young men were a good deal excited, although they were careful not to let each other know it, for fear of being the target for a little fun from the others. in this effort at reserve, the irrepressible tom was the least successful of the trio, as might be expected, and when he caught john and paul slyly winking at each other and glancing in his direction as he nervously tried the same control for the third time, he blurted out: "oh, you fellows needn't laugh at me! you're just as much on edge as i am, now that we're really going to fly this old bird!" "come, tom, don't try to cover up your nervousness by accusing us of the same thing," protested paul. "you're as agitated as a young kid with his first electric toy train, tom," laughed john. "how much gasoline have we got in the tanks now?" "the gauge shows ten gallons," said tom, bending down and looking at the instrument-board in front of the pilot's seat. "that isn't enough for a decent flight," declared john. "we'll probably be out for at least an hour, and we may use as much as fifteen gallons in that time; that's about half the consumption of ordinary airplanes, you know. we'll shove in twenty gallons more so as to be on the safe side." "we haven't put in any oil yet," reminded tom. "we'd better put in about two gallons, i should say. most planes use about a half-gallon to the hour; if we use half as much, that will give us plenty of grease." the tanks were in the lower part of the forward fuselage. with the caps removed, a hose was inserted by paul, and then john forced the gasoline up by a small but powerful handpump until the gauge told that the required additional twenty gallons were in. the same pump would work with the oil also, and soon the viscid fluid had been transferred from the storage can on the hangar floor to its proper tank in the airplane. thence it would feed itself up into the carbureter of the working engine by a force-pump attached to the engine, as with the gasoline. the boys had just finished putting in the fuel when mr. giddings and bob drove up in the former's automobile. "i expect this is a great day for you young men?" said the publisher, with a smile of greeting to all. "i know it is a time i have looked forward to myself for a good many months,--ever since i accepted the challenge of the _clarion_, in fact. is the sky-bird supplied with gasoline?" "yes, sir," said john; "we just got through with that job. we have easily enough fuel aboard now for a couple of hours' flight, and that will be long enough for a first one. new engines are always 'stiff' and should not be run too long at a stretch." "have you run this pair yet?" "oh, yes," said bob. "we have tried them out several times, dad, and in connection with the propeller, too. they work tip-top, either connected or disconnected. i tell you, when they're in connection they certainly do make this big propeller hum!" "i can't understand how you can operate the propeller in here," said mr. giddings, much puzzled. "all the airplanes i have seen have always dashed forward as soon as their propellers began to revolve under impulse of the motor or motors; there was no restraining them. i should think this machine would run through the front end of the hangar here as soon as you--" "pardon me, sir," interrupted john, "but we have gone those fellows one better. you forget that in the drawings we showed you there was a set of brakes designed to be worked by a control within reach of the pilot, brakes which will engage these ground wheels a good deal the same as brakes work on automobiles--by a flexible band of steel and grit-filled cotton which is made to compress over a large sort of hub on the inner side of each wheel." "very good," said mr. giddings; "but i understand that has been tried before, with the result that the airplane at once tipped forward and stuck its nose into the ground, or rather tried to, smashing its propeller to smithereens." "they will do that every time unless something has been devised to counteract this tendency to pitch over," explained john. "we have devised the thing to prevent it, mr. giddings." "see here, dad," put in bob at this point. "stoop down a bit and look under the forward end of the body here." his father did as requested, and bob pointed out a circular opening about the size of a saucer, from which protruded the end of an aluminum-encased shaft bearing a small rubber-tired wheel of very sturdy proportions. "that is our preventer, dad," smiled his son. "in a few minutes we'll show you how it works," added john ross. "i see you are wearing a cap, sir, as i suggested. that is all the special dress you will need, as our enclosed cabin makes helmets and close bundling unnecessary. we fellows will wear our regular working togs." everything being in readiness, the four young men easily pushed the big airplane out of the building and to a place where it would have a smooth runway for a hundred yards ahead. the weather was ideal for the trip. there was little wind, and the few strato-cumulus clouds which were visible showed great stretches of azure-blue sky between them. "everybody climb in," ordered tom, with a wave of his hand. "i'll crank her up. you take the joy-stick, john." all hands complied. then tom began to turn the big burnished propeller, just as john threw a lever from the inside which caused the auxiliary ground wheel to shoot down and engage the sod. at the same time the movement of another lever by paul set the airplane's brakes. several times tom turned the propeller around. then, with a pop, the engine cylinders began to fire, tom jumped swiftly back, and the propeller whirred like a mad thing. at the same time the sky-bird gave a start, as though to dash forward; but beyond a steady, slight vibration of her whole body, as tom slowed down the motor to four hundred revolutions per minute, there was no indication to her inmates that she was straining to get away. tom now quietly mounted the step, and came into the cabin, pulling the step up after him and closing the self-locking door. "that shows you how this third ground wheel acts, dad!" cried bob triumphantly to his father, who sat in a chair adjoining. "now watch the old girl jump ahead when paul throws back the brake lever and his brother lifts the third wheel and gives her more gas!" the changes were made even as he spoke; the propeller's hum grew into a mild roar through the cabin walls, and the sky-bird leaped away over the ground, gaining momentum at every yard. to the surprise of even two such veteran flyers as john ross and tom meeks, the airplane had gone less than fifty yards when she began to rise as gracefully as a swallow in response to her up-turned ailerons and elevators. in less than ten seconds she was well up over the fair-grounds, and the roofs of all the buildings in the neighborhood were seen below them. john kept the machine mounting at a good angle until the altimeter showed them to be up two thousand feet. then he straightened out the ailerons and elevators, and began to run on a level keel. the other inmates of the cabin noticed, by looking through the observation windows, that he was gradually bearing in a great circle about the town of yonkers. off to the northwestward were the rugged blue crags of the catskills, covered with patches of milk-white snow, and just in front, winding like a huge serpent among the picturesque foothills, was the sparkling hudson, dwindling away to a mere silver thread in the north, tapering away in the same manner toward the south, where it lapped the piers of the city of new york and immediately afterward lost itself in the waters of the upper bay. although the great skyscrapers of the big city itself could be dimly seen, they looked very small at that distance. directly below them our friends could make out the familiar buildings and landmarks of their own town as they swept past one by one, john purposely flying at reduced speed so that a clearer vision could be had. he also shot down to within a thousand feet, presently, as he saw his own home approaching. someone, whom both john and paul immediately recognized as their mother, stood in the door waving a handkerchief. in recognition, paul drew down one of the sliding windows, and put out his head and fluttered his own handkerchief. shortly afterward--it seemed not more than a minute--the machine was over shadynook hill, and bob and his father were waving a similar salute to mrs. giddings. as they swept on, men and women and children could be seen looking up from the streets beneath. most of these people were used to seeing airplanes, but obviously the bright finish of the sky-bird ii, and its striking eagle-like appearance created more than passing notice. those in the cabin were amazed to note how effectually the new muffler and the walls of the cabin shut out the sounds of operation. it was very easy for them to talk back and forth with each other by using a fairly strong pitch of voice, even when the machine was running at a good rate, as it now began to do, for john once more gave the engine more gas, and turned the airplane skyward. up, up they shot like a rocket. the hand on the dial of the altimeter moved along steadily--it reached again, passed to , , , ; the earth seemed literally to be falling away from them. all at once, when they were between six and seven thousand feet high, and watching the minute patches of color far below, which represented buildings, houses, hills, and the like, these objects were swept away, and through the glass plates of the cabin floor they could see nothing but a gray vapor below them. it was also around them. "we're passing up through a cloud," said bob to his father, who had never been in an airplane before. a moment or two later, the boy added, as the blue sky could once more be seen below, "now we're above it, dad." "it seems to be getting colder," remarked mr. giddings. "it always gets colder the higher one goes," informed paul. "i hope you're not getting cold feet, dad?" grinned bob. "oh, i'm comfortable, thank you," laughed his father. "say, son, isn't this as good a time as any to try out the merits of that wireless 'phone of yours? can you work it from this height?" "i don't know why i can't--and three times higher," bob said; "we'll try it right now. when i left home i told sis to mind the set there in my room, and watch for my signal. we'll see now if i can get in touch with her." so saying, bob put on the wireless helmet, threw the switch, and kept repeating, "hello, sis! hello, sis! hello, sis!" for a few moments in the transmitter. then he said, after a brief silence: "i get you, betty. won't answer you now, as i want dad to talk to you." with that bob smiled, removed the headpiece, and slipped it over his father's head, exchanging seats with him. mr. giddings now heard a voice--the voice of his own daughter--asking quite distinctly: "do you hear me, daddie?" "i certainly do, betty," said he; "where are you?" "here at home--up in robert's room. i never thought i'd be sometime talking with you when you were flying through the air. mother just called upstairs and says she can't see the sky-bird any longer. where are you now?" "up above the clouds somewhere just north of yonkers," replied mr. giddings laconically. "oh, goodness! i must run right down and tell mother. please don't go too high or too far, daddie, will you?" came the clearly agitated tones of the daughter. "is robert all right?" "indeed he is. we'll soon be back with you and tell you all about it. everything is working perfectly. good-bye, betty!" and mr. giddings arose with a pleased laugh, and hung up the helmet. "i'll take off my hat to you, robert," he said. "i never thought your fussing at home all these years with electric batteries, buzzers, and what not, would amount to anything like this." the sky-bird ii was now running straight ahead with the speed of the wind, john giving the craft more and more gas, and crowding her pretty close to the limit. the wind swept by both sides of the streamlike cabin with a rushing sound like the distant roar of a huge cataract; the flexible window glass gave slightly to its pressure, but there was no sign of it breaking. one minute they were in the midst of a cumulus cloud; the next, through it. now they saw the faint outline of the earth, now sky; now the earth was screened by cloud, but above were the blue heavens. "guess how fast we're making it now?" cried john, one eye on the dial which connected with the propeller-shaft. "a hundred miles," ventured mr. giddings. "hundred and thirty," guessed paul and bob. "hundred and eighty," stated the more experienced tom. "all too low," said john. "we're going just exactly two hundred and fifty, if this speedometer doesn't lie!" he now announced that he was going to throw in the idle engine. this was done successfully, and under the extra power they were soon making the remarkable speed of three hundred miles an hour! john then slowed up and disconnected first one motor and then the other, the airplane continuing to fly with unimpaired smoothness. as a last test, he dropped to a level of three thousand feet, at which time they were considerably north of albany, and throwing the automatic-pilot into operation calmly removed his hands and feet from every control except the rudder. in this fashion they ran for fifteen or twenty miles on a perfectly even keel, the apparatus automatically working the elevators and ailerons of the craft as various wind currents tended to disturb its equilibrium. at length, john gave a little twist to the rudder, and the way the sky-bird began to circle, and to bank of her own accord, was a splendid sight to behold. no hawk, sailing over a barnyard in quest of an unwary fowl, could have performed the trick more beautifully. as the flyers now headed for home they were all much elated at the success of the first flight of the new airplane. and as it gracefully swooped down into the fair-grounds a little later, coming to a stop in a surprisingly short run over the ground owing to her braking feature, this elation was increased. chapter x final preparations after getting out of the airplane, mr. giddings was thoughtful for some minutes. nor did he speak until the boys had pushed the machine into the hangar. then he said, with deep earnestness: "young men, a great load has been removed from my mind by this recent performance of the sky-bird ii. i have now not the slightest doubts of her adaptability to make a round-the-world trip, and if she performs then as she did this morning, we are not only going to defeat the _clarion_'s crew, but we are going to smash all existing records for a journey of the kind. i wish to know if you really think you could operate this machine steadily night and day, say for a couple of weeks, stopping only for fuel and food?" "by alternating the engines--yes, sir; no doubt of it," declared john ross without a moment's hesitation, while tom meeks nodded his frowsy head energetically. "then," said mr. giddings, "you may consider that's what the entire four of you will have to do in a few months, as soon as we can pick out a route and get fuel supplies at the different airports or stops for you. john, you and tom may consider yourselves under salary right on until after this race; there will be enough for you to do, helping me with arrangements and taking care of the airplane." "well, but how about paul and me, dad?" broke in bob anxiously; "aren't we going to have anything to do?" "oh, you two will have enough to do going to school, i think," laughed mr. giddings; "but, to satisfy you, i will let you both help john and tom select a route and make out a schedule. do this just as soon as you can, so that i may be able to give mr. wrenn, the publisher of the _clarion_, a copy. he can then make intelligent preparations for his own crew. i am going to give my rival every consideration in this matter, so that he cannot do any howling if we beat him. it must be an out-and-out fair race, do you understand?" all nodded. "have you heard anything about the other crew yet, mr. giddings?" inquired paul. "i mean, do you know what sort of a craft they are going to use, or who is going to fly against us?" "i am as much in the dark about those points as you young men," was the reply. "i judge that mr. wrenn, who is an astute business man, will keep us in ignorance of his personnel until the last minute. the fact is, i am going to treat him to a dose of his own medicine in this respect. so be careful not to let the public get close to this machine, and talk with no one about it." with that the publisher and bob drove home, but the latter came back in the afternoon, and all four young men immediately repaired to the yonkers public library with a blank tablet, there to work out the route and schedule. it was no easy task. in the first place, they wished the route to be as close to the equator at all times as possible, so that their line of travel would approximate in distance the world's estimated circumference of , miles. in the second place, for stops they must choose cities or towns with either established landing-fields, or with grounds level enough for this purpose. in the third place, these airports must be so divided that they would not have to be visited during the hours of darkness, for few if any of them would be likely to have efficient enough lighting systems to make night landings safe. within fifteen minutes the boys had the long table in front of them literally covered with geographies, atlases, loose maps, and encyclopaedias. paul even brought up a globe as large as a pumpkin, while bob was not content until he had secured a score of back numbers of travel magazines. into this divers collection of diagrams and reading matter they dove with an avidity which would have surprised the teachers they had when they were in grammar school, if they could have seen them. it soon became evident that they would not only need a route and schedule to make their journey successful, but also an enormous amount of general information about the countries they would pass over. "we'll have to study trade winds, oceanic storm conditions, temperatures, inhabitants, topography, and so forth, and so forth," drawled tom meeks. "say, fellows, i feel like kicking myself to think i didn't study my geography more and shoot paper-wads less, when i was a kid at school." "we'll have to do a lot of cramming, that's sure," averred john; "but we have several months for that. just now we want to jump into this route and schedule." they made up several tentative routes, only to discard them. finally, after several hours' work, they had one which everybody seemed to agree was the best that could be picked out. with the schedule, which was figured on the basis of miles an hour airplane speed, the draft looked like this: _miles airport arrive leave_ ---- panama ------------ : p th georgetown : a st : a st para : p st : p st freetown : p d : p d kuka : p d : p d aden : a th : a th colombo : a th : a th singapore : p th : p th port darwin : p th : p th apia : a * th : a th nukahiva : a th : n th san cristobal : p th : p th panama : a th ------------- ----- * gain of day by reason of crossing th meridian, or international date line, between port darwin and apia. bob giddings carried home a copy of this schedule, and the following monday morning all four young men met by appointment in the private office of the publisher of the _daily independent_. after they were seated, mr. giddings brought forth the tentative draft, studied it a few moments, and then asked: "what is your fuel capacity, boys?" "our tanks will hold enough gasoline and oil to carry us a little better than five thousand miles, throttled down to an average of one hundred and twenty miles an hour, the basis on which we figured out this schedule, sir," answered john. "would it make a difference if you flew faster than that?" "oh, yes," said john; "the faster a pilot flies the more fuel he uses per mile. full out--that is, going at the limit of her speed--the sky-bird probably would not cover more than three-thousand miles." "i am glad to know this," said mr. giddings. "i see that your cruising radius is sufficient to cover your longest jumps at any reasonable speed. let me see; you allow yourselves three hours' stop at each airport; will that be long enough?" "plenty, sir," said tom; "we figure that we can easily refuel in that time, and attend to any local affairs we may have." "i notice your total mileage is exactly equal to the estimated circumference of the world," remarked the publisher. "that shows great care in the selection of this route to meet my viewpoint; but may i ask how you know your distances between airports, as here recorded, are correct? from whence did you get these mileages?" "bob and i figured them out, sir," spoke up paul. "how?" "why, like this, dad," explained bob. "we knew there were degrees to the world; we divided the circumference of , miles by , and obtained approximately . miles to a degree. by taking a map of the world and finding the number of degrees between any two airports it was not difficult to come pretty close to the actual distance in miles between them." "very good; very good, indeed," approved his father. "i think i have the right sort of men on this job. but here is another thing which occurs to me: have you based your time of arrival and leaving at each port upon local time or new york time?" "local time," stated paul. "if we had not done so we could not have arranged the schedule with any accuracy at all, as regards daylight and darkness and the lapping of time. with our watches set to new york time, we might expect to land at a station in broad daylight, only to find that we were really coming in after dark. another thing: our figuring showed us that the lappages of time, all added together, exactly totaled one day of twenty-four hours, which we gain by traveling eastward. so, while the schedule on a calendar at home would only show ten days which we would be gone, we would in reality be away one day longer, or eleven." "your local times may be wrong," hinted mr. giddings. "i don't think so, sir; we proved them correct," stated paul, with conviction. "how?" "after the same method we used in getting the mileage, sir. you see, we knew that time eastward keeps getting later, and that this rate is four minutes to every degree. we just counted the degrees between places and figured it out on that basis." "splendid!" exclaimed mr. giddings, who was far from as ignorant of these processes as he led his visitors to suppose. "boys, i wish to compliment you very highly upon this piece of work. when i first looked at the schedule and saw that an airplane meeting its requirements would make this trip squarely around the world in seven and a half hours less than ten days i could scarcely credit my senses, and i figured it all over to make sure you had made no mistake. i found out you had not. if you can maintain an average speed of one hundred and twenty miles, and can make up any unforeseen delays by greater speed, i must admit it really looks possible for you to be back inside of ten days. that is better than i actually hoped for, young men,--far better! in fact the situation, as i view it, contains wonderful opportunities for both newspapers in the way of sales and advertising. i do not doubt but that i can handle this affair in such a manner that i can afford to give each of you five thousand dollars if you make the journey within these ten days." "five thousand dollars!" cried our friends in unison, while bob exploded: "but, dad, just how do you figure this out?" "mr. wrenn and i will exploit this contest in our newspapers--let the whole universe know that it is coming off; advise the people that the aviators are to be provided with the most modern airplanes, and equipped with wireless by means of which they will keep us informed frequently of their whereabouts; that they will have cameras and send us pictures; that these bulletins shall be issued in extra editions of our newspapers at least three or four times a day; and to cap the climax, we will put up large bulletin boards in front of our buildings, on which there will be painted a chart of the trip, showing every scheduled stop, country, and ocean crossed. this will be electrically lighted at night, and as you boys fly in your machine away off in some distant part of the world, our bulletin board operators will follow your course on their huge charts, and represent you with a miniature airplane. in fact, i plan to get the _clarion_ to 'phone over reports of their crew as fast as received, i doing likewise with them, and then we can have two dummy airplanes on each of our boards, showing the race in earnest at all stages of the journey. this would cause great excitement to the street onlookers. all in all, it would make our newspapers the most talked about in the whole country, we would gain thousands of new subscribers, millions of extras would be sold, thousands of dollars' worth of new advertising contracts could be made, and our present rates increased on account of our new prestige. now, you see, it will be up to you young men to keep our office supplied with your whereabouts as often as you can. do that, and beat our rival crew, and i shall be pretty well satisfied if you don't quite make the trip in ten days." "we will do our part, sir," responded john, speaking for all. there was a little further talk; and then they took their leave, well satisfied with the turn of events, and each determined to win his five thousand dollar trophy if it were at all possible. chapter xi off for panama that same afternoon mr. giddings called upon his business rival, mr. wrenn, of the _clarion_, and presented to him the tentative program for the great race around the world's girdle, as the _daily independent_ had planned it. mr. wrenn declared that he was willing to stand by his former agreement to allow the _independent_ to select the route, and said it was entirely satisfactory to him, and that he would at once take steps to have fuel supplies on hand at the various airports for his crew when they should arrive. he made no comments as to his own airplane, but agreed that the advertising plan his caller had worked out was a capital one, stating that he would co-operate heartily with him in carrying it to a successful conclusion. mr. giddings was considerably surprised that mr. wrenn made no objection to the longest "hops" on the route, which were of greater extent than the average airplane could make, and was ready to modify the arrangement if there had been any objection. but even when he particularly called this matter to the other publisher's attention, mr. wrenn only smiled serenely, saying, "those hops are perfectly satisfactory to us," leaving mr. giddings with a deep wonderment as to what sort of aircraft the _clarion_ proposed using. "i am under the impression that our contemporary has something up his sleeve, but i cannot conceive what it can be," mr. giddings confided to his son that evening upon reaching home; and when bob repeated this to the ross boys and tom meeks next day, they too began to wonder more than ever what type of an airplane the _clarion_ proposed using against them, and who the crew might be. "did your father and mr. wrenn decide upon a date for the start?" asked paul. "yes," replied bob; "they made it the th of july, this summer, weather permitting. we start from panama at one o'clock in the afternoon." "our curiosity as to the identity of our competitors will be satisfied then, at least," laughed john. "and their curiosity, too!" put in tom. "i'll stake my last cent they're just as much in the dark about us and the sky-bird ii as we are about their outfit." "we'll hope so, anyhow," remarked bob; "but ever since we had those blue-prints stolen, and found we had a stranger sneaking around the hangar, i've been uneasy." at this reference, all the young men felt a strange oppression. they had talked over it more than once, and each time it had left them with a sense of peril to their interests, why they could not tell. as before, they now tried to laugh it off, and began to talk about other subjects. there was still considerable to do in the way of preparing the sky-bird and themselves for the long trip, and for weeks all four boys were kept hustling to make the final installations of accessories and equipment. bob rigged up a wireless telegraph in connection with his telephone set, and for protection, four good repeating rifles and an automatic shotgun were put in racks in the after-cabin, while each fellow provided himself with an automatic revolver which he would carry in a holster attached to a belt. medium-weight flying suits, with a heavy, wool-lined coat to slip on in case they flew very high, and trim flying boots and soft gloves, made up the personal toggery. whenever the boys found a chance they went to the public library and absorbed all the knowledge they could about the countries over which they would pass and the places at which they were destined to stop. by writing to the authorities in these localities, mr. giddings also secured much valuable information for them as to present weather conditions and landing-fields--information which was further supplemented by numerous special airway maps supplied by the aero club of america and similar aviation organizations in foreign countries. from these maps paul worked out a very clear chart of their own course from beginning to end. a copy was given to each of the newspaper publishers concerned, to reproduce on their large electric street boards, and another was framed and placed immediately in front of the pilot's seat in the cabin of the sky-bird ii. all this time the columns of the _daily independent_ and the _clarion_ contained frequent vivid references to features of the trip calculated to awaken the interest of the public, and as the time slipped along into july, the attention of people all over the land was centered upon the forthcoming contest, and it became the principal subject for comment. the secrecy maintained by both principals as to the kind of aircraft to be used, and the mystery as to identity of the members of the respective crews, only whetted curiosity and interest the more, as the sharp newspaper men knew it would. every man, woman, and child in the wide world seemed to be eagerly waiting for the moment to come when he or she would see the promised pictures of the bold aviators and their machines in the big newspapers, and hear that they had made their first jump eastward from panama. all being in readiness, at daybreak on the morning of july th the ross boys and tom meeks appeared at the sky-bird's hangar, and pushed the airplane outside. as they were doing so, mr. giddings and bob joined them. the publisher had planned to accompany his crew to panama in the machine, to see them officially off, while his reporters made the journey by train, in company with the writing force of the rival paper. "we'll keep the time of our going secret, leaving before people are generally up," mr. giddings had said to the boys; "and by going on the th we'll not only be ahead of their smart calculations, but we shall have about half a week to rest up and see the country down there before you begin your strenuous journey. i need a little vacation anyway, so i will accompany you. we will stop off at miami on the way, and enjoy some big-game fishing in the florida waters with some of my friends." so the young men were very much excited and eager to be off this morning of the th, you may be sure. the sky-bird was tuned up a little to make certain she was in first-class condition, then they all climbed in and the big glistening creature of wood, metal, and silk shot up into the air. it would probably be close to three weeks before they would see that familiar field and hangar again, and in that time if all went well they would circle the huge globe upon which they and their fellow-men lived. it was truly a most inspiring thought--one to have filled less phlegmatic blood than theirs with the wildest pulsations! the weather was not at all promising, masses of gray nimbus-cloud threatening to shut out the sun as it arose, with a promise of uncertain winds, if not rain; but john and tom declared the conditions all the better for giving the machine a good test-out. they climbed slowly upward through the cheerless, mist-laden skies, the engine well throttled back and running as smoothly as any engine could. to make sure that all was in perfect working order, they circled for ten minutes over the town, trying the different controls, then turned the sky-bird southward. at two thousand feet they suddenly emerged from the fog belt into brilliant sunshine, but the world below was lost to sight, screened by a dense pall of mist. accordingly, tom meeks, who was acting as pilot, set a compass course for cape hatteras, the first guide-post along the atlantic coast, some five hundred miles distant. after an hour's steady running, john took the throttle, followed later by bob, and finally paul. it was a new sensation to the last-named youths to be piloting the airplane out of view of the earth's surface, relying solely for safety and position upon the compass and altimeter, and knowing that somewhere far below them swept the rolling billows of the ocean; but they enjoyed it immensely. finally, just as john declared they ought to be close to their objective, the winds freshened and made a great rift in the fog below them, through which they could plainly see the grand old carolina coast-line a little way ahead and to their right. between the main shore and the long spine-like series of reefs constituting the cape itself, sparkled the waters of numerous sounds, while the weather-beaten lighthouse on the extreme elbow of hatteras stood out like a stick of white chalk against the rocky gray background of its support. all were delighted with the accuracy with which they had made their first guide-post, as john and mr. giddings checked their bearings on the chart. the sky-bird had behaved splendidly so far, and if she continued in that way they ought to reach their destination well before nightfall, even at the reduced speed at which they had been flying, which had averaged not much more than a hundred miles an hour. it now became a question whether they should leisurely follow along the inwardly curving coast-line, taking in savannah, charleston, and jacksonville, as guide-posts, or save a hundred miles or more by flying straight across the waters to miami. as they wished to test out each member's ability to operate by compass rather than by landmarks, it was decided to take the shorter route. so gradually they left the rugged american shore behind and swept farther and farther out to sea. the sky-bird ii was flying as steady as a rock. all the bracing wires were tuned to a nicety, the wind humming through them and along the smooth sides of the great creature's body with a whistling monotone which arose and fell with bewitching rhythm as the force fluctuated. the varnish and fire-proofing compound glistened brightly in the sunshine, attracting the attention of numerous seabirds, mostly gulls and ospreys, which followed them at times for short distances, only to be outdistanced. the engine was running at less than half its possible speed, and purring like a contented kitten after a meal of fresh milk. the clouds and fog had cleared away; the sky was as bright now as a sky ever gets; far beneath, the blue-green waters of the atlantic, flecked with white-topped waves, spread on all sides. two torpedo-boats, looking like toys, went northward, and tiny white waving specks showed that the jacks aboard were waving a salute to them. off seaward a black trailing blot against the horizon showed where some unseen steamship plowed her way between ports. mr. giddings and the boys were filled with admiration. a small airplane is ideal for short flights, joyriding the heavens, or sight-seeing among the clouds; but there is something more majestic and stable about a big machine like the sky-bird ii which a pilot soon begins to love with a passion he never feels toward the little 'plane. an exquisite community of spirit grows up between machine and pilot; each, as it were, merges into the vitals of the other. the levers and controls are the nervous system of the airplane, through which the will of the aviator may be expressed--expressed in an infinitely fine degree. indeed, a flying-machine is something entirely apart from and above all other contrivances of man's ingenuity. it is the nearest thing to animate life which man has created. in the air an airplane ceases to be a mere piece of dumb mechanism; it seems to throb with feeling, and is capable not only of primary guidance and control, but actually of expressing a pilot's temperament. the lungs of the machine--its engines--are the crux of man's mechanical wisdom and skill. their marvelous reliability and intricacy are almost as awesome as the human anatomy. when both engines are going well, and synchronized to the same speed, the roar of the exhausts develops into one long-sustained and not inharmonious _boom-m-m-m-m!_ it is a song of pleasant melody to the pilot, whose ear is ever pricked to catch the first semblance of a "sharp" or "flat" note telling him that one or more of the twelve cylinders of each busy engine is missing fire and needs a little doctoring. it was about four o'clock that afternoon when our party first sighted the low, out-jutting sea-coast of florida. as they came slowly toward it, by reason of their angular course of approach, they could gradually make out a group of green palms here and there along the white stretches of sand, and see clusters of light-colored buildings, piers, shipping, and people moving about. thus they passed juno and palm beach, and then saw the thicker cluster of fine dwellings of miami itself, the most southerly city on the florida mainland. paul was guiding the sky-bird at this time, and turned her across the limpid waters of biscayne bay, cutting a huge circle above the town and slowly swooping downward toward the broad white beach, as he picked out a level stretch for landing. townspeople who had been watching the strange airplane, so much like a great bird, now ran forward to see it land. a moment later, with a graceful drop and upward curve, it struck the sandy beach and ran forward lightly until the brakes were applied and it was brought to a standstill. chapter xii fighting a devil-fish many questions were asked our friends by the onlookers, but they gave them evasive replies, being careful to let out no hint as to their real identity and connection with the approaching race around the world. two husky negroes were engaged to watch the airplane until relieved from such responsibility, and mr. giddings then led the boys to the home of a mr. choate, a close and trusted friend and superintendent of the big miami aquarium, one of the most noted repositories for live fish in the country. mr. choate was astonished beyond measure when he learned that his old friend had come in the big airplane which he and his wife had noticed over the town a short time before, and was still further surprised when mr. giddings bound him to secrecy and told him that the young men with him constituted the crew of one of the two airplanes which was so soon to circle the earth by way of the equator. he shook hands warmly with them, and with his charming wife made them all very much at home. than mr. choate, no man in the south knew more about the multitudinous varieties of fish inhabiting florida waters. he was not only an authority on them, but he was also recognized as a most skillful catcher of fish. for over an hour that evening he told them absorbing stories of the habits of gulf stream denizens, and recited stirring tales of battles with some of the biggest of them. and when he finally announced, "to-morrow i shall see that you are given a taste of our wonderful fish-life by joining me in a fishing expedition," they could hardly get to sleep for thinking of the fine prospect. after breakfast the next morning, their host conducted them down to the waterside and into the beautiful white concrete buildings of the aquarium, and here he proceeded to show them, swimming about in great glass tanks, the most wonderful collection of fish they had ever seen outside of the big new york aquarium itself. "you probably never realized before," said mr. choate, "that in the warm waters of the gulf stream, between miami and key west, more than varieties of fish are to be found. they vary in size all the way from the tiny sea-horse, the size of a baby's little finger, to the great tarpon and killer-whale, the latter a vicious creature weighing many tons and large enough to swallow a good-sized boy without scraping the buttons off his jacket." "it must be a lot of sport to catch some of these fairly big fish," remarked john ross. "well, this afternoon i shall take you fellows where you can all have a chance at them," said mr. choate with a smile. "it would be interesting to have a motion-picture record of the thoughts which flash through the mind of the average inland fisherman the first time he feels the tiger-like swoop of a five-foot barrancuda, the fierce yank of a hundred-pound amber-jack, or the sullen surge of a big grouper on his line; for even when armed with the heaviest rod, and a line as big around as a silver dollar, he is pretty sure to wish, at least subconsciously, that his tackle might be twice as formidable and his arm twice as strong. just imagine yourself, for instance, out in the clear blue waters of the gulf stream, looking overboard at your baited hook thirty feet below, which you can see as plainly as if it were in no water at all. then up comes a great jewfish, which is just as likely to weigh five hundred pounds as fifty, and to be as large as a good-sized shetland pony, and he makes a lunge for your bait, and-- well, you can go right on imagining the rest, too." in all, they visited a half-hundred tanks of fish before they were through, watching this group and that group of inmates disporting themselves about in the salty water with apparent unconcern of visitors. in markings some of them rivaled the most beautiful designs the mind could picture, and others were so brilliant and wonderful in color that the rainbow was mild in comparison. from the aquarium our party went up the beach to where the sky-bird ii was resting under guard, and putting two new negroes to the task, they returned and had lunch with mr. choate, following which he conducted them down to the pier and aboard his sea-going motor-yacht, _l'apache_. this trim vessel had a crew of five men, and as she started away, headed for the bahama islands, a -foot motor-driven tender bobbed along in her wake. in this they were to do most of their fishing, their host declared. assisted by the northeastward pressure of the gulf stream, they made splendid progress, and that evening cast anchor behind bimini, a tiny isle which rests like a jeweled feather on a summer sea. it was like pulling teeth to go below deck for sleep and leave the wondrous beauty of the tropical night, with the soft, cool touch of the ever-blowing trade wind, the shadowy grace of the giant coconut-palms swaying and whispering on the nearby beach in the moonlight, while the surf, lapping upon the coral reef on the outer side of the isle, lulled them with its crooning obligato. at sunrise all hands were up and ready for the sport. a hot breakfast was served by the cook, after which they piled aboard the motor-tender, throwing in rods, lines, and harpoons. through the island channel out to the open sea they went, all except the steersman hanging over the side of the craft and enjoying the amazing sights in the clear depths below. bob excitedly pointed out a group of six or eight big tarpon lazily wallowing about fifty feet beneath them. and less than two minutes afterward, paul, in no less excitement, announced the discovery on his side of a big nurse-shark which was rolling an eye at him from the ocean's floor. john pointed out, from the bow, a great school of fish numbering possibly ten thousand, which mr. choate stated were small mangrove-snappers. they were parading up and down a stretch of coral shelf along the bottom, and they made a wild dash and hid in crannies under the coral as a big barracuda unexpectedly shot into their midst and grabbed one unlucky snapper. in a little while the fishermen were out into the open sea, and all began to scan the pulsating bosom of the gulf stream with fresh interest. strange as it may seem, the fish of tropical waters do not appear to have the slightest apprehension of danger from the noise of a motor-boat, and one cannot only get very close to them, but can follow them about and observe their movements without trouble, particularly if he is familiar with their habits. in a little while mr. giddings called the attention of all to a dark shadow not far below the surface, about two boat-lengths on the quarter. mr. choate promptly announced this to be a "herring-hog," a species of porpoise, and ordered the boat turned that way. the creature proved to be a full-grown herring-hog, weighing around four hundred pounds, and as this species destroys great numbers of foodfish, mr. choate made preparations to attack it. reaching the proper position, a hand harpoon was thrown by him. it found its mark, and away went the great fish at so fast a clip that the line fairly smoked as it shot from the reel barrel. in a few moments it was all out, and then the motor-boat gave a jump forward and rushed after the herring-hog. he was towing it, as if it had been a chip! the engineer now reversed the propeller. this act slowed up the herring-hog noticeably, but still his prodigious strength carried the craft forward. it was ten minutes or more before he tired sufficiently for them to haul him in. as they were making the big fish fast to the gunwale, a considerable disturbance was observed on the surface of the water about a quarter of a mile away. mr. choate judged this fuss to be caused either by a leopard-shark killing its prey, or by some battle royal between two equally big denizens of the deep. mr. giddings and the boys were all excited at the thought of getting a harpoon into a huge leopard-shark, which will fight any and everything that swims, as well as many things of flesh which do not swim, not excepting man himself. but as the boat drew closer, mr. choate, who seemed to have uncanny eyesight plus long experience with subsea life, added greatly to the nervousness of his guests by suddenly exclaiming: "stand by, men; it's the biggest devil-fish i have ever seen!" at once everybody who could find one, seized a harpoon; and in his excitement tom meeks even picked up an oar, as if to defend himself against attack! in a few minutes they were close enough to note that the entire bottom of the ocean in the area where the creature had been seen had gone suddenly dark; and in the translucent depths above nearly all of the party discerned a gigantic shadow moving along. it looked for all the world like an immense pancake with bat-like wings. these wings were fluttering queerly, and from the action of the fish mr. choate said he was sure it was devouring prey which it had just killed. he now asked paul if he would like to try a cast. the boy assented eagerly. bracing his feet in the bottom of the motor-boat he took good aim and let his harpoon fly. paul had hardly hoped to hit the devil-fish. and probably he would not have done so, inexperienced as he was with a harpoon, except for the fact that the creature was of unusual size and presented a broad mark. as it chanced, the steel went true. the devil-fish arose to the surface as though hurled upward by a submarine explosion. one of its great battle-like fins broke above the water, sending gallons of spray over the occupants of the boat, and splintering the harpoon staff against the boat's side as if it had been a match stem; then its ten-foot pectoral wing struck the water with a terrific impact, making a noise which could have been heard several miles away. for a moment the monster seemed bewildered, and that moment cost it dear, for it enabled bob to throw another harpoon, which stuck deep into its body near the spine. with a mad dash it started off to sea, taking the harpoon lines with it. as the lines sped out of their barrels mr. choate grasped one and mr. giddings the other, aided respectively by john and tom, and all hands strained to hold them, but although they went out slowly, they could not be held, until at length paul and bob came to the rescue and managed to get the ends around cleats in the boat. however, this did not stop the devil-fish. it made out to sea with remarkable speed for so clumsy-looking a monster, towing the heavy boat and its inmates after it with the ease of a horse pulling a toy carriage! as it went, all hands bore on the lines, adding to its burden, but for a long time this seemed to have little or no effect. every once in a while the devil-fish would literally hurl itself several feet out of the water, and its huge flat body would come down with a crack like the explosion of a gun shell. perhaps it was imagination, but each time it broke the surface in one of these cavortings it seemed to the boys that the fish was bigger than the last time. now and then the creature would sound for deep water, in an effort to shake its captors off, and several times it went down so far that mr. choate stood ready with upraised hatchet to cut the lines at the last moment, in the event the bow should show signs of diving under. all of a sudden the lines slackened, and all hands frantically hauled in slack, as the devil-fish turned and dashed toward the boat. he came up almost under the craft, one great wing actually lifting one side of the heavy launch well out of the water and giving everybody a pretty stiff scare. with quick presence of mind, mr. choate at this moment let drive another harpoon, which found lodgment in the monster's flat head, and away it dashed again with the greatest vigor. as there was now a line leading to each side of the devil-fish's body, those in the motor-boat found they were able actually to drive their captive as if it were a runaway horse, a gradual bearing on one "rein" or the other tending to direct the uncertain creature in that direction. thus very adroitly they swerved the huge fish toward the now distant shore of bimini, hoping to master it in the shallower waters of the isle. by this time the monster had carried them out fully ten miles. it had not forgotten its old tactics of deep diving either, and there were numerous occasions when, after one of these submersions, it came up and started fiercely toward the boat, and it took the most skillful maneuvering on the part of the steersman, as well as wicked use of oars on the part of those in the craft, to drive the creature off and keep from being upset. they let their anchor drag, and at times reversed the propeller, hauling on this side and that on the harpoon lines when the devil-fish would not be going to suit them. in this fashion it was slowly but surely tired out; they began to reel in slack line, and finally the immense fish was wallowing within twenty feet of the boat, surrounded by hungry sharks which had been attracted by its blood. it would never do to goad it now by hauling in on the lines, as it might dart under the boat and upset it, and the waiting sharks could then make a meal of its luckless inmates. so mr. choate told the boys to use their automatic revolvers and see if they could not dispatch the devil-fish at once. this was done, john, tom, paul, and bob all firing several shots each, which put the monster in such a helpless state that they could handle it with less danger to themselves. until that moment not one of them realized that nearly five hours had elapsed since they first attacked this jumbo of the sea, so busy had they been every moment of the time in trying to conquer the creature. and everybody was quite exhausted, now that the excitement was over. although this fish had three harpoons in his body and a dozen shots in its head and heart, it was by no means dead, and the fishermen found considerable difficulty in towing it into the harbor, some miles away. the natives of bimini were greatly interested in the capture, and our friends were able to get fifteen of them to help draw the enormous carcass ashore where all could get a good look at it. they were amazed at the unusual size of the devil-fish, and mr. choate declared again that he had never seen such a large one of its kind. it measured twenty-two feet across, and must have weighed close to , pounds. "some people call the octopus a devil-fish," said mr. choate. "this is all wrong. they are both large and vicious creatures, but entirely different in looks. the devil-fish belongs to the ray family, and, as you see, is a huge bat-like creature which uses its body fins with a waving, undulating motion, and propels itself through the water at remarkable speed." "it is built on the principle of our airplane--in looks," said tom with a grin; "and in speed, too." "so it is," responded mr. choate. "it derives its satanic name from these cephalic fins or lobes which extend outward and upward from each side of its flat head, like curling horns. when it dashes into a school of smaller fish, these fins whirl about in every direction, and as they are often four feet long they easily reach more than one hapless fish and he is swept into the yardwide mouth of the monster and devoured with almost lightning speed." after a rest, the party went out in the motorboat again, this time to catch foodfish. they had fine luck, and after an appetizing meal aboard the _l'apache_, in which their small catch played an important part, all set out for miami, tired and happy. chapter xiii the strange airplane the first thing the boys did the following morning, after spending the night at the home of mr. choate, was to go down to the beach and see if their airplane was all right. they found one of the two negroes asleep, but the other fellow was faithfully on guard, and everything about the sky-bird seemed just as they had left it, although the watchers said that a considerable number of curious townspeople had come to look at the machine the day before and they had been very busy keeping venturesome boys off the craft. our friends let the negroes go to get their breakfasts and some sleep, and engaged two others to take up the watch. following this, in company with mr. choate, they all retired to the bathhouse, secured bathing suits and had a fine time disporting themselves in the warm surf for the next hour. the youths had never experienced gulf stream bathing before, and the water was so enticing that it was hard to drag themselves out of it. as they were in the act of emerging to dress themselves, a black speck, which all had noticed in the northern sky, had developed by nearer approach so that they thought they could recognize it as an airplane. it was coming down the coast very rapidly. wondering if its pilot intended to land in the vicinity, they gathered on the beach and curiously waited for it to come nearer. at times they were puzzled to know whether the approaching object were really an airplane or a great bird, for it surely looked like a bird with its swelling breast-line and slightly tilted broad-shouldered wings. closer and closer it came. it was flying very high. when it was almost over them, mr. giddings uttered a startled ejaculation; "my stars, boys! it's _our_ machine!" paul and john ross and tom meeks were equally astonished. they had noticed the strong resemblance at the same moment. involuntarily, with mr. giddings and mr. choate, they turned their heads up the beach to see if the sky-bird ii was where they had left it. they saw its huge outline and its patrolling black guards. it had not changed position. even a group of gaping miami citizens lent reality to the situation, and some of the latter were gazing aloft at the other flying-machine, as our friends had been doing. the stranger above them evidently had no intention of stopping. instead of circling the town, as he would have done had he intended to land, he swept straight over and kept on his southward course, heading across florida strait. on the face of every one of our friends, as they saw this image of the sky-bird ii cross the sky overhead and disappear in the mists beyond, was a look of amazement, incredulity, and finally dark suspicion. "can it be--?" mr. giddings hesitated, and looked inquiringly at his younger companions. "it looks that way," said john ross, with a reluctant nod. none needed to explain that the same thought had struck him, also. the stolen blue-prints--the skulking man with the swarthy face! he had duplicated the sky-bird! more than that, each recalled the _clarion's_ secrecy about the kind of airplane it planned to use; and its willingness to attempt the long "hops" which ordinary machines would have had difficulty in negotiating. it all pointed to but one logical meaning. and bob giddings expressed the opinion of all when he observed: "dad, i believe there goes our prospective competitor in the race around the world! he's making for panama now!" further comment on the situation would have been useless. all hands, each with disturbing thoughts of his own, went silently into the bathhouse and resumed his regular garb. mr. choate and his wife begged them so hard to remain over another day at least that mr. giddings assented. that afternoon they went for a long automobile ride along improved roads, both sides of which were lined with palms in places, luxuriant tropical grasses in others, and towering forests covered with creeping vines. they stopped the car a number of times to visit great orange groves, and the boys had their first taste of the luscious fruit just as it ripened on the trees. the following morning, directly after breakfast, they were besieged by two or three local newspaper reporters. seeing no use of further concealing their identity, mr. giddings gave out a little information to the gleeful newspaper men, but was careful to wire in to his own newspaper much more detail of their doings since leaving yonkers, even mailing some photographs which they had taken of the tussle with the big devil-fish. in the afternoon our party paid a visit to the aquarium again, extending it to the biological laboratory nearby; and took supper in the beautiful white casino, which fronts the beach, after they had had a refreshing plunge in the ocean's waters. then paul and bob took up mr. and mrs. choate for a short flight in the airplane. early the next morning they bade their miami friends good-bye, and once more took to the air, this time to complete the last leg of their journey to panama. it was found that the sky-bird's fuel tanks were apparently still full enough to carry them to their destination, so it had not been necessary to store either gasoline or oil in miami. this was very gratifying, as it showed quite conclusively that, later on in the race, the sky-bird would be able to make her longest jumps without the peril of fuel shortage. at a height of close to two thousand feet they headed across florida strait, with paul at the throttle. it was a real joy to be looking through the glass panels of the airplane's cabin once more, to hear the muffled roar of her engine and propeller, and to realize that probably before dark they would be across the five hundred miles of blue waters of the caribbean and hovering over the world-famous canal zone. it was a fine morning. what clouds could be seen were well above them--light, billowy, and white, reflecting the sunlight so strongly upon the white-capped waters below, that the sea seemed much closer to the voyagers than it really was. shortly after eight o'clock they crossed over the long, low-lying island of cuba, dipping down close enough to get a fairly good view of the topography. then rising to three thousand feet, they swerved a little to the eastward and made off across the caribbean sea itself. at a few minutes of eleven they sighted the shore of jamaica, five miles or so to the eastward of them. then john took the throttle, both engines were put into the work, and they began to whizz through the air at a clip which would have made them gasp for breath had they been in an open cockpit. as it was, the rush of air as it swept along each side of the fuselage and off its narrowing tail, became a veritable howl in whose noise they found conversation very difficult. tom meeks, who was leaning over john's shoulder and watching the instrument-board, triumphantly announced presently that they were traveling at the rate of miles an hour! for thirty minutes or more john ross kept the sky-bird going at this terrific speed, then he slowed up, and transferred into mono-engine gear, as there was no use in unnecessarily heating the power-plants. as the indicator of the speedometer retreated to miles, he turned the throttle over to bob giddings, and said: "hold her at this rate, bob; it's plenty fast enough for the present." it was a little after one o'clock when paul and tom announced land to the westward. after looking at the object, which surely had the appearance of land, mr. giddings laid down the glasses and consulted the chart. "that's undoubtedly the outer point of nicaragua," he said; and upon taking a look themselves with the binoculars, the others all agreed with him. keeping the low-lying coastline of the continent on their right, and buffeted considerably by contrary winds which now began to make themselves manifest, bob threw the automatic-pilot into gear at a suggestion from john, as this insured greater safety, and steered with the rudder only. at once the riding became easier, for the moment a gust of wind hit the machine on one side, the elevators and ailerons shifted and counteracted its uneven effect. after a while bob turned slightly to the eastward, and about mid-afternoon they came in sight of colon, the atlantic terminal city of the great canal. sweeping over its collection of houses, at an elevation of about fifteen hundred feet, they passed the big white gatun locks, and followed the trail of the panama railroad across the great neck of rugged land which joined north and south america--followed, too, the tortuous, wonderful channel which american enterprise had cut through. thus over gatun lake they flew, over the chagres river; along the course of culebra cut, with its high banks, across the pedro miguel and miraflores locks on the other side of the isthmus; over ancon; and finally below them lay clustered the white-robed buildings of panama itself, with the swelling blue reaches of the big pacific to the southward and westward, and the bold shore-line of south america to the southeastward. looking down as they circled the narrow tongue of land on which the city proper nestled, our friends soon made out the big government landing-field and airdrome, distinguished by its whitewashed cobblestone markers at either end. and, now, as the sky-bird ii swooped downward, several attendants in white pantaloons could be seen running out of the building. when the airplane had settled, these men came up. two were short, black fellows, probably san blas indians; but the other two were whites, though well-burned by the tropical suns. the taller of the white men introduced himself as henry masters, superintendent of the landing-field, and was extremely courteous when he learned the identity of the new-arrivals. "we have been looking for you gentlemen," said he, "and i'm glad to know you had such a fine run from miami. there are a lot of strangers in town--been arriving for the last three or four days--all to witness the start of this big race. most of them seem to be newspaper men from the states, though there are a number from south america, and even africa and europe. is this the plane that you fellows representing the _daily independent_ are going to fly in?" "this is the one, mr. masters," responded john. "it is a beauty," said the superintendent with enthusiasm, as he glanced over the graceful outlines of the sky-bird. "i never saw one built on these lines until the other day, when what seems to be its twin came in." "much like-um lot," remarked one of the natives, and his companion, added more concisely: "same like-um lot." in spite of the fact that our party had been fearing some such information as this upon reaching panama, the actual announcement of it made their hearts jump wildly. "where is this machine now?" asked mr. giddings as calmly as he could. "in the hangar," was the reply of masters. "it is the one that is going to fly against you." "who is in charge of it?" inquired john ross. "five arrived in it. four of them are to be in the contest, they say. the other gentleman is mr. wrenn, of the new york _clarion_." a few minutes later, when they pushed the sky-bird into one of the big double hangars, their suspicions were conclusively clinched. for there at one side stood the very counterpart of their own airplane, differing only in the name painted upon its sides and under its big hollow wings. these letters spelled "_clarion_"! chapter xiv a familiar face our friends exchanged glances. the brow of every one of them contracted into so plain a frown that mr. masters, the superintendent of the airdrome, could not help noticing it. "i hope nothing is wrong, gentlemen," he ventured half-interrogatively. "so do we," responded mr. giddings, "but if there is, it is nothing concerning you, sir, at least. we thank you for your attention to our machine, and wish you to take the best care of it while it is here. don't let anybody meddle with it, will you?" "we'll look after it right, you may depend upon that," said the flying official; and the party turned and left the building. outside, where they would be secure from the hearing of others, all came to a pause, for there was a lot on their minds. "well, boys," said the publisher, "you see our suspicions back there in miami were certainly well-founded. it seems that in some manner those stolen blue-prints have fallen into the hands of our rivals, and they have been wise enough to profit by the fact." "do you think, dad, that mr. wrenn could have been back of this theft?" propounded bob who, although the publisher was a business rival of his father's, had always thought him above such operations. "i really do not know what to think," was mr. giddings's answer. "i have always entertained the greatest respect for this gentleman's honesty, if he does differ with me politically. but i must admit that since this thing has happened--" "sh-h!" warned bob suddenly. "here comes mr. wrenn now!" it was as he said. turning his head in the direction of the entrance to the landing-field, mr. giddings instantly recognized, in the short figure in linen coming toward them, the person of the publisher of the _clarion_. "i shall have this matter out with him right now," was the grim declaration of the _daily independent's_ director. "well, well! how are you, giddings? how are you, robert?" cried mr. wrenn, sticking out his pudgy hand when he came up to the little group. such was his gusto that he did not seem to notice the lukewarmness of the father's and son's greeting. mr. giddings introduced john, paul, and tom, and then the publisher of the _clarion_ continued with good-humored raillery: "i'm mighty glad to see you fellows here, for i began to think you would get scared and flunk us at the last moment. was over on the hotel veranda when i saw a plane land here, and i guessed it might be you, and hurried right over. put your machine up yet?" "we did," said mr. giddings rather sourly. "and do you know, wrenn, when we ran the sky-bird in the hangar we saw yours in there and received quite a disagreeable surprise--i may say shock." mr. giddings and the boys watched the broad face of their rival very narrowly as this statement was put. would he act guilty? there was an explosion of laughter, the heartiest of laughter, from the _clarion_ director. "oh, say, that's one on you, giddings! i knew you'd be down in the mouth when you saw our machine and realized that you would have to contend against one as good or better than your own--one of the same type!" and he laughed again, until he had to wipe tears from his little blue eyes. this was incomprehensible conduct from a guilty conscience! what could it mean? surely mr. wrenn, of the _clarion_, was either the coldest and deepest-dyed rogue in the world or a man entirely innocent! "how did you know that we had an airplane like yours?" asked john sharply. the fat man broke into renewed chuckles at this question, and it was a moment or two before he could find words. then he said: "there's a little story connected with this, and now that we're right on the eve of the race and there's nothing to be gained by further secrecy, i'll tell it to you. you see, about a year and a half ago, possibly two years, a young man came to me for a job as sporting reporter; said he had been a flyer in france and that the government wanted him as an air mail pilot, but he would rather take up the newspaper game. i put him to work, and he proved very good in gathering news of sports, especially aviation stuff. a week or so after you challenged me to this race--which i would have liked to back out of, but couldn't and save my honor--this chap showed me some blue-prints of a novel kind of airplane which he claimed to have co-devised with a flyer friend who, he said, was helping to make you a machine of the same type for this contest. he--" "what is this young man's name?" inquired john ross excitedly. "peter deveaux." "peter deveaux!" exclaimed john and paul at once. and john added: "mr. wrenn, that fellow did not refuse to fly in the air mail service; he _did_ fly, and was dishonorably discharged for drunkenness. furthermore, he stole those plans from our hangar!" the publisher of the _clarion_ opened his eyes wide. "can you prove those assertions?" he inquired. "that last one is a serious charge, sir." "nevertheless we can prove it when we get back to new york," declared john warmly. "well," said mr. wrenn, "i'll finish my story, and then we can talk over this new development more understandingly. as i said, deveaux claimed to have a half-right in the plans, and having no reason to doubt it, i told him to proceed, when he proposed to make an airplane for us from the designs and to head a crew for the _clarion_ in this race around the world. now you will understand my position in the matter." "wrenn," spoke up mr. giddings with quick frankness, "i beg your pardon. the young men here and myself fancied you must have had a guilty part in the production of this fac-simile of our airplane. we now see who is really to blame." "i do not blame you for your suspicions," was the candid reply of the fat man, "if things are as you state; and i will do you the honor, giddings, to say that, although we are business rivals, your word is as good as gold with me. this is a lamentable situation. what shall we do about it?" mr. giddings studied deeply before making answer. then he observed: "wrenn, this contest, as you know, has been too widely advertised to wreck it just as it is about to begin by the arrest of this man, peter deveaux. say nothing to him about it; in fact, we will none of us mention a word of this to anybody; but when the race is over you can quietly dismiss him from your service, if you wish. as i now look at it, no great harm has been done, if any, by his duplicity; with two planes practically alike, the race will really be a fairer one, and a more exciting one for the public who read our newspapers, and supremacy will probably go to the better crew." "i don't know about my crew, as deveaux picked them up; but they did good work when they brought me down here the other day in the plane," said mr. wrenn. "giddings, i think your plan is all right, and we'll let the race go on as if nothing had happened; but you bet your last dollar i'll fire pete when it's all over, if he has done what you say!" with that the publisher of the _clarion_ accompanied our friends back to the hangar, where he had a good look at the sky-bird ii, and showed his own airplane, which was in all essentials an exact copy of the other. following this they left the airdrome and went to their hotels. all had a good night's rest--probably the last one they would have on earth for more than a week,--and after a hearty breakfast they proceeded to get what supplies they would need to last them until they should reach georgetown, british guiana, on the north coast of south america. this would be their first stop. somehow the townspeople quickly guessed their identity, and they were followed from store to store as they shopped by a curious and motley throng of dark-skinned natives, among whom were noticed quite a few white children, presumably belonging to american employees of the government. with such eatables as they had bought stored in a basket, and carrying a few other packages, the boys went out to the airdrome. a guard stood at the door to keep out those having no business in the hangar, and as the young flyers passed in they noticed that mr. wrenn and a group of four fellows in flying-suits were going over the rival airplane. "here, boys, come over here a minute!" called the fat man. as they approached, the aviators with him turned from their work. one, a slender fellow with swarthy skin and a scrubby black mustache, scowled when he looked at john ross, and as bob giddings and tom meeks got their eyes on him, they gave an involuntary start, for they recognized in the man the fellow they had seen hanging around the fair-grounds in yonkers when their machine was in process of construction. "it's time you fellows got acquainted with each other," said mr. wrenn, and he forthwith proceeded to introduce his crew as pete deveaux, chuck crossman, oliver torrey, and sam lane. "how are you, ross?" greeted pete deveaux. he uttered a sour sort of laugh, as his companions offered their hands around the group. "i won't do any shaking," said he, "as my hands are kind of greasy." "don't worry, deveaux," advised john quickly. "we won't feel bad over a little thing like that." "that your plane over there?" asked the swarthy fellow. "that's it; quite a strong resemblance to yours here," said john with cutting sarcasm. "that's so," was deveaux's comment, casting a quick look toward mr. wrenn. apparently he was as anxious to drop the subject as a chicken would a red-hot kernel of corn, for he immediately observed, with an ill-concealed sneer: "i suppose you guys think you're going to leave us a good ways behind in this race?" "we're not telling what we think," put in paul; "but one thing is sure: we're going to keep you hustling some." "oh, that's too bad, now, ain't it?" drawled oliver torrey, as he leered out of one eye. "say, kid, we'll beat youse so bad you'll be squallin' before you're half-way round the globe," put in sam lane. "you bet! ain't no use o' flying against such veterans as us," supplemented chuck crossman, with a wag of his frowsy head. mr. wrenn frowned. while these might be his own men, it was hard to countenance such bragging. chapter xv the start by eleven o'clock the tanks of the sky-bird ii had been filled with gasoline and oil, and the radiator of each engine supplied with twelve gallons of water. in addition to this, its crew had carefully gone over every brace, control, bolt, and nut to make sure that everything was tight, the engines had been run detached from the propeller for a few minutes to warm them up, and every bearing not reached by the lubricating system was well oiled by hand. mr. giddings had appeared about an hour earlier, bringing with him the two special correspondents of the _daily independent_, as well as several other newspaper men representing various prominent foreign publications. as soon as our boys had finished shaking hands with these, they were introduced to a number of well-known government officials and aviation representatives, who added their good wishes for the success of the big undertaking. then came mr. wrenn with a party of his own distinguished friends, which called for more hand-shaking. at twelve-fifteen the rival machines were pushed out of the hangar and took up positions in the field, ready for the signal to "hop." at twelve-fifty both crews, with the exception of their respective crankers-up, entered their machines, and a heavy hush fell over the great crowd which had assembled to see the start of the first race around the world's circumference. it was without denial an auspicious moment, and as they stood there and looked at the two big mechanical birds which were to attempt this prodigious feat, embracing almost , miles, threading every mile of the distance through the air in the astounding time of ten days, the situation was so fraught with awe, particularly to the native panamanians, that now at the last moment all were practically voiceless. the rival publishers gave their parting instructions as their crews climbed into the cabins, and these were to the same effect: "don't forget, boys, to report to us at every stop, and mail us all the pictures you can. between stops use your wireless for reports whenever possible. good-bye, and the best of luck!" lieutenant-colonel warren j. hess, a gentleman prominent in american aviation circles, had been selected as judge of the contest. he was not only to give the signal to start off the flyers, but with mr. giddings, was to await in panama their return, and demand from each crew upon arrival a document containing the signature of the port official at each scheduled landing. colonel hess, looking at his watch, now raised his hand, and instinctively those in the front of each of the long lines of spectators flanking the run-way crowded back so that the airplanes would not strike them as they dashed down the field for the take-off. tom meeks and chuck crossman spun the propellers, sprang back to escape their vicious whirr as the respective engines fired, and quickly clambered into their machines. it was exactly one o'clock. both airplanes taxied down the runway side by side. they also arose together, amid a great cheering, some ninety feet apart, shooting grandly up into the air above the heads of the people in the lower end of the field. at a height of a thousand feet, the gray _clarion_ bent eastward. at fifteen hundred feet, the sky-bird did likewise. from the open windows of each of the cabins fluttered white handkerchiefs in a final farewell, and many a broad-brimmed hat in the hands of the excited populace below was waved in answer. flying low, the _clarion_ started away in the lead, while her rival had been mounting to her own preferred higher level. by the time the sky-bird had straightened out, her contemporary was well in advance. "we're losing ground," said bob giddings anxiously. "don't worry about that," said paul ross, who was at the throttle; "we can catch them when we're ready. we'll get a better current of air up here." paul's maneuver had been due to the fact that heavy head-winds were blowing, and he was quite sure if he went higher he would get above the worst of these. as they now shot along on an even keel, it seemed hard to realize that they had at last started out on the important flight for which they had been planning and working so long; and as paul watched his instruments and the scudding rival machine ahead, he could not help wondering what the issue of it all might be--if the fates would be so kind as to smile enough on the sky-bird to bring her in ahead of the _clarion_ and within schedule time. many weary miles must be covered before they would see panama again. and when they would land in that air-drome again--if in truth they ever did!--would it be as victors, or as listeners to the jeers of the rough crew of the other plane? it was not an ideal day for the start from a weather standpoint. in fact, a consultation of the weather reports at the panama bureau before they left had shown a prophecy of strong northeasterly winds and possible showers. the sun was almost shut out by patches of cloud, glinting through only occasionally; but neither crew had felt like postponing the start, so eager were they to be off and so confident were they in the capabilities of their respective machines to meet almost any sort of bad weather. straight along the isthmus both machines proceeded, making a bee-line for georgetown, which it was hoped to reach at daylight. the coastline was low along here and very uneven, with numerous pretty little islands on the pacific side, the waters surrounding them sparkling like jewels when the sun's rays would struggle through the clouds and strike the tossing waves. in the northern part of the republic of colombia they passed just to the right of the western terminal range of the great andes mountains, and within an hour's time were sailing through quindiu pass of the central arm of the same mountains. at this time they were over twelve thousand feet above sea-level. then came the table-lands of western venezuela, open in places and covered with thick growths of tropical forests in others. as they approached the foothills of the eastern chain or arm of the mountains, paul took the throttle, and they steadily arose in order to clear the high pinnacles facing them, and finally, at a height of fifteen thousand feet--the greatest height they had yet attained--they went over them. the airplane encountered several "air pockets" in this process, which might have been disastrous to them except for the stabilizing effect of the automatic-pilot. as it was, the machine pitched rather roughly in surviving them. in sweeping past the last crag they had come very near to striking, owing to a cloud which enwrapped it. just in time paul's sharp eyes had seen the white bank of snow on the crag ahead, and he elevated his craft enough to pass over. it was so cold up here, even in the cabin, that the boys had to don their heavy coats. just as they turned the nose of their machine toward a lower level, running at reduced speed, a huge bird with curving beak, which john said was a condor, dashed from the crags after the airplane. it was followed a moment later by five or six others. the great birds seemed to resent the appearance of so strange a giant in the mountain fastnesses where they had always held the supremacy of the air, all the time darting angrily at it, flapping their long, black and white wings, some of which had the immense span of fourteen feet, and croaking hoarsely. the boys laughed at first, but when the creatures commenced to come closer, frequently hitting the windows with their sharp beaks, and cracking two of them, they began to get really alarmed. once the propeller struck the tail of one bold and incautious condor, and feathers flew in all directions; but after a quick circle he was back again, madder than ever. "say, fellows," cried paul; "we've got to do something with these birds right away! first thing we know, one of them will get hit a squarer blow with the propeller and smash it. then we'll crash as sure as i'm sitting here." this peril was very imminent, as all could see. john seized the shot-gun from its rack, and tom one of the rifles. these were loaded. stationing themselves on either side of the cabin, the young men drew down the windows in front of them, poked out their weapons and watched for a chance to use them. tom's gun was the first to blaze away, but it is difficult to hit a bird on the wing with a rifle, and he missed. a moment later, as a condor dashed viciously toward his window, john fired, and the great bird, mortally stricken, tumbled into the mists below. tom was more fortunate the next time. a condor, with a fluttering of his immense wings, had settled right on the tail of the machine, where he clung with his sturdy talons, threatening to prevent paul from manipulating the rudder. when bob called tom's attention to this alarming situation, the latter joined him at the rear window of the cabin. tom took careful aim, pulled the trigger, and the condor fell with a broken wing, uttering hoarse cries until the clouds below swallowed him up. two more of the fierce creatures were killed before the remaining birds were frightened off. it was with a sigh of relief that paul now resumed his descent to lower levels. when presently they emerged out of the last cloud, and could see the green earth below them once more, they were across the last chain of mountain they would encounter in south america. they gazed with their glasses on all sides, and checked up their position on the chart, although in doing this they had great difficulty on account of a curtain of thin fog which hung over the land, and only a very low altitude of about five hundred feet would allow of it at all. as soon as they were sure of their bearings they again took a searching observation in quest of the rival airplane, but no sign of it could they see. "they're probably quite a bit ahead of us by this time," observed john; "but now that we're through the last chain of the andes we can make better speed. shoot her up to two thousand feet, buddy. we'll set our course for georgetown by compass." paul bore upward, and at the level mentioned he straightened the machine with her nose once more pointed eastward, and the compass hand pointing along the left wing of the machine. it was now growing dark. not knowing whether this was caused by the closing in of the clouds or the natural declension of the sun, bob looked at his watch. to his surprise he found it was seven o'clock panama time, which would make it probably close to nine in their present locality. night should now be upon them. as it had been decided to let john and tom operate the night shift, at least for the first few days, john now took his trick at the throttle, changed to the fresh engine, and bob and paul turned into their hammocks for the first sleep aboard the airplane. they were both pretty tired, as each had spent several hours at the helm that afternoon, and it was only a few minutes before the gentle rocking of the plane on the billows of air had sent them into a sound oblivion. just before retiring, bob had wirelessed panama of their safe passage through the mountains and fight with the condors, stating that several snapshots of the birds had been secured and that these would be mailed to the _daily independent_ upon reaching georgetown. not long after the change of pilots a fine rain began to fall, covering the windows of the cabin with a film of moisture; but as it was now too dark to see anyhow, john did not care whether he could look outside or not. however, for the good of the machine, as well as the betterment of their speed, he decided to get out of the storm. so, switching on the little dashboard electric lights to illuminate his instruments, he turned the sky-bird upward again. through the very clouds which were expelling the rain, gathered from the warm atlantic trade-winds, he guided the machine. at nine thousand feet he was above them, in clear dry air, with a blue, star-studded sky above his head and in the mellow glow of a full moon. "well, john, this is more like night-flying," remarked tom meeks, who sat just behind the pilot, ready to assist him at a moment's notice if the need should appear. "as long as i know there are no mountains ahead to smash into i'm not worrying a bit," replied john, "and i guess we're all right on that score. i'm going to let the old girl out now, tom." "might as well," was the response. thereupon john threw on the gas by degrees until the indicator showed them to be whizzing along at miles. he easily could have gone fifty more on the one engine had he chosen, but was afraid such a speed would carry them beyond their destination and out into the atlantic before daylight could show them their position. had they not previously been running somewhat behind scheduled time, he would not have accelerated even now. shortly after midnight tom relieved him at the throttle, and running slightly slower, to make sure they would not pass over georgetown in the darkness, tom began to hum softly to himself as he kept a sharp lookout upon his instruments. john settled back in the seat behind, as alert for any sudden peril as his mate had been before. but no mishap marred the night's run, which was as smooth up there above the clouds as any veteran flyer could have wished. and when at last the bright sun of another day chased the moon and its haze into obscurity, it lighted up the flying craft some time before its orb had peeped high enough over the atlantic's horizon to shed its rays upon the affairs of earth itself. gradually, as the sun arose in the heavens, tom brought the sky-bird lower, until presently he and john could see the ground, bathed in glistening color from its recent wetting, far below them. at this time paul and bob awoke, and washing their hands and faces, came to the windows to look out. the first thing they all did was to sweep the sky-line for some vision of the rival airplane, but without success. then they put their attention on the country below and around. just beneath was a pretty little blue lake, walled in with great forest trees some of which must have been over a hundred feet high. a short way beyond was an immense field covered with what they were sure must be sugar-cane, and in which they could see dark-skinned men at work with queer carts and clumsy oxen. at the right, a mere thread of silver, was a river, hedged with tropical vegetation. this swept around toward their front, enlarging as it came, and at what seemed no farther than five miles away, poured its waters out into a great sea of apparently limitless expanse. the boys concluded at once that this great body of water must be the atlantic ocean, and when they saw a fair-sized town nestling among the trees at the point where the river joined the sea, their chart told them that the stream was the essequibo river, and the collection of low-roofed buildings was none less than georgetown! a few minutes later, they were circling the town to locate their landing-field which was to be marked with a large white letter t. seeing it on the second turn, they swept down amongst a curious and half-frightened throng, and taxied to a stop. to their relief and gratification, they found that their rivals had not yet appeared. chapter xvi tricked by rivals correcting their watches with georgetown time, as given to them by mr. whiteshore, the englishman in charge of the field, the boys found to their joy that they had arrived five minutes ahead of schedule. this would give them, if they wished to take it, a trifle more than three hours to spend in georgetown. but first must come business; they must go over the machine very carefully and see if the long, hard run from panama had done any damage; and they must replenish their fuel, oil, and water supply. they were happy to find both engines in fine shape, thanks to the possibility of alternating them in transit, and beyond a number of scratches and the cracked glass made by the condors in their attack in crossing the andes the airplane was in perfect shape. paul climbed up and examined the helium-gas valves, of which there were three in each wing, one for each of three compartments, and announced that the pressure showed only an insignificant decrease. at the rate of escapage indicated, they would have plenty to last them for the whole trip. this was reassuring knowledge, for no envelope can be made so impervious that light gases will not escape at all. the body compartment also showed good pressure. it took them an hour and fifteen minutes to replenish the fuel tanks and water radiator and put everything in shape. just as they were finishing up, a cry from the curious crowd around them called their attention to the western sky, and they saw an airplane approaching. this developed rapidly into the unmistakable outlines of the _clarion_, and in a few minutes the rival crew landed in the field. pete deveaux sauntered over to the crew of the sky-bird ii. "well, fellows," he said, with the sneer which seemed to be on his leathery countenance most of the time, "i notice you got in a little ahead of us. congratulations! i suppose you're tickled to death." "we're not quite that far gone; just a little bit alive," grinned tom meeks. "what made your crew so slow, deveaux? did you get wet in that rain last night and have to stop off and dry out your clothes?" "aw, cut it out; talk sense!" snarled the french flyer. he turned on his heel, fearing more of tom's sharp thrusts if he lingered longer, and shot back: "you guys will have another laugh coming one of these days, mark my words!" with that he rejoined his companions. not at all worried at such a prophecy, our friends secured a native boy to guide them into the town, a quarter of a mile distant, leaving their airplane under guard of two chinese out in the open, the field boasting no such thing as a hangar. at the little telegraph office of the town, john dispatched their report to the _daily independent_, also mailed at the local postoffice the promised films of the encounter with the condors. they then purchased some breakfast and began to look about them. while it was still early, the narrow streets were quite well crowded with people, so much so that it looked to the visitors as if the inhabitants never slept. what they saw almost made them rub their eyes to make sure they were not in asia instead of south america. there were dozens of almond-eyed chinese within sight, dozens of black hindoos in turbans and flowing garments, dozens of parsees wearing long black coats and hats like inverted coal-scuttles; to say nothing of numerous portuguese and english, the latter mostly merchants and plantation owners. the roofs of the buildings were slanting, with wooden or galvanized iron walls. some of the more important of them, such as stores, warehouses, government buildings, etc., were quite large, and stood upon piles to keep them out of the way of floods which often sweep the lowlands in the rainy season. in many of the streets ran canals, which their small guide told them, in pidgeon-english, were drains for the floods. and he also said that the long embankments which the boys saw stretching along the sea front were dykes built at great expense by the sugar planters to keep these same floods from washing the rich soil of their fields out into the ocean. after purchasing some fresh fruit and groceries for their aerial larder, the little party betook themselves back to the landing-field, on the way passing numbers of pretty little houses which stood in the midst of beautiful gardens filled with tropical plants. as they neared the field, they saw that quite a crowd had collected since their departure. pushing their way through the concourse about their own airplane, they were surprised to find pete deveaux and chuck crossman just jumping down from the wings. these flyers hurried away through a gap in the circle of onlookers toward their own machine before our friends could accost them. the sky-bird crew were considerably put out at noting this situation, for they had particularly told the chinese guards to let no one meddle with the sky-bird. the celestials were squatting unconcernedly upon the ground, one on either side of the airplane, as john rushed up and said to one of them; "didn't i tell you not to let any strangers around this machine?" "no lettum stranger lound," protested the fellow. "him both flylers alla samee you. like-um see, you see; like-um see, he see." "oh, ginger!" exclaimed john, turning to his comrades, in clear disgust, "the stupid dunce thinks those fellows belong to us and we to them, just because we all wear the same sort of flying clothes! did you ever see the like?" paul now took up the questioning. "what were those fellows doing up there?" he asked of the chinaman. "no tellee me; no tellee lee," was the response, as the fellow jerked his head in the direction of his comrade. "just lookee over alla samee you do li'l bit ago." "were they in the cabin?" demanded paul. "no go in klabin." they walked around the machine giving it a cursory looking over, but could find nothing out of the way, and every one of them felt considerable relief. "i guess they were only taking a look to see if our construction was the same as theirs," suggested bob. this seemed a plausible explanation, and they accepted it, although with some misgivings. about ten minutes later they saw the crowd over in the other side of the field scattering, and then the _clarion_ shot up into the air. in a few minutes it was pointed down the coast and making good headway. our friends were not quite ready, but when the other machine was a mere speck against the southwestern sky, they hopped off themselves, with paul at the throttle. not one of the party had any doubt but that they could catch their rivals before the latter should arrive at para, where they were due at six o'clock that evening. it needed only that first stage of the journey from panama to georgetown to show them that they had either the speediest craft or the most skillful crew. paul mounted to a height of about two thousand feet, then let the sky-bird straighten out in the direction of their next stop. he opened up the throttle little by little, and the machine rapidly gained momentum. but somehow the young pilot was dissatisfied. finally he hitched the stick over to the notch which should have brought the craft into a speed of miles, and watched the speedometer closely. "humph!" he ejaculated, after fifteen or twenty minutes. "say, paul," cried bob just then, "we're losing on the _clarion_. she's clear out of sight now." "why don't you tell me something i don't know?" growled paul in a tone very queer for him. "what's the matter with you, buddy?" demanded john, stepping up. "you seem to have an awful grouch on, some way!" "got a good reason for it," snapped paul. "this is enough to make a preacher almost swear." "don't talk, but speed her up a bit if you don't want them to get away," advised john. "she doesn't act right, somehow," said paul. "the sky-bird ought to be hitting it up to a hundred and fifty right now, but she's only making a hundred and fifteen. she acts groggy; don't you notice it?" "i thought myself she was riding a little rocky--sort of out of balance," admitted john. "take the stick and try her yourself," said his brother. john did so. for fifteen minutes he said nothing, but worked the throttle and watched the speedometer. then he called paul again to the seat. "you might as well take her, buddy," declared john with a puzzled shake of his head; "i can't do any better with her than you. she wallows along like a man with a load of buckshot in his pockets--heavy--and seems out of equilibrium, too!" "what do you suppose is the matter, john?" asked tom meeks. "i'll bet pete deveaux and that chuck crossman have been tampering with her, back there in georgetown," declared bob. "i don't know; it certainly looks kind of suspicious," admitted john ross. he thought a moment. "cattails and jewsharps!" he exclaimed very suddenly. "what now?" asked bob. "i believe i've hit the trouble," stated john, with his brown face a shade paler. "you know we saw those fellows monkeying around our wings. it would be an easy matter to trip one or more of those valves and let some of the helium out! that would make us heavier, and if more gas were let out from one wing than from the other, we would be out of balance in the bargain." this declaration of john's brought a startled and troubled look to the faces of his companions. all knew that if pete deveaux had engineered such a dastardly trick as john hinted at, a handicap would be in store for the sky-bird's crew all through the remainder of the race, for it would be impossible to get a renewal of their helium-gas supply before reaching their own country again, and then it would be too late. "what shall we do?" came from bob. "do? there's nothing to do now, but to keep on flying at the best gait we can until we reach para," decided john. "when we get there we'll have a chance to find out what is really wrong." this seemed the wisest course to pursue. so paul, vexed though he was at the contrary actions of the airplane, buckled down to the job of guiding the machine and complained no more. but he made up his mind that if investigations proved the rival crew had been tampering with the sky-bird ii he, for one, would do his part in giving them a warm time should they meet on the ground again. at noon while john and tom slept, bob relieved paul, and for an hour they made a little better time by working both engines; but, afraid of overheating the one they termed their "night engine", they went back to one motor for the rest of the journey into para, where they arrived an hour late. and it was to find bad news awaiting them. the landing-field official announced that the _clarion's_ flyers had left not fifteen minutes before for freetown, africa. and upon investigating the helium valves in the wings of the sky-bird, our boys found to their dismay that fully a third of the pressure was gone, indicating that an equal quantity of gas had escaped in some manner. it may be added that there was very little doubt in their minds as to this manner. chapter xvii across the atlantic our friends looked at each other dismally when they had ascertained the cause of the sky-bird's sluggish flying. paul and tom even gave the craft a tentative push, and found that the loss of her helium had made her so much heavier to move over the ground that the difference was manifest at once. "this looks kind of black for us, fellows," remarked bob. "and we've got those scoundrels to thank for it without the shadow of a doubt," put in paul, with flashing eyes. "i'd give a year of my life to get my hands on that pete deveaux right now." "it's lucky they got out ahead of us," added tom significantly. "well, if they were here, and if we thrashed the stuffing out of the entire bunch, that wouldn't put back our lost helium and former speed," said the practical john. "what we've got to do now is to try to remedy matters." "easier said than done, i'm thinking," tom observed. "we can't get any more helium here; in fact, not until we get back to panama. of course that will be too late." "i don't know about that," hinted john. "what's your remedy?" asked bob. "i know," said paul. "the machine's out of balance now, because they have let more helium out of one wing than the other, and none at all out of the fuselage. by letting some out of our body tank, and enough out of the lightest wing to bring it in equilibrium with its mate, we can get a perfect balance again, and that ought to give us air steadiness and more speed." "right you are, buddy," declared john. "good head! that's my idea exactly." "but won't that make us even heavier than we are now?" inquired bob. "sure," responded john, "but balance is the main thing in an airplane, you know. when we get that, the old girl will act a whole lot better than she did coming here." "still, our rivals will have some advantage over us," argued tom. "that's true--in the way of a lighter machine. but we've shown we could outspeed them when the sky-bird was all right, and now we ought to be about an even match for them," said john. "that means a nip-and-tuck race of it, then, the rest of the way," commented paul. at this point a bright idea struck bob. "say, fellows," he cried, "why can't we send a wire message from here to mr. giddings at panama, and ask him to have a fast vessel drop a tank of helium off at nukahiva, marquesas islands, for us?" his comrades slapped bob so hard upon the back when he made this suggestion that he had to stagger. "fine idea, bob!" declared john. "a fast boat ought to reach nukahiva before we do, and that will give us a full load of helium again for the last four or five thousand miles of the race. if it's a close contest up to that point, the new supply may save the day for us!" they now set to work equalizing the gas supply in the wings of the sky-bird and reducing that in the fuselage to the proper pressure for perfect equilibrium, which they were able to get by the use of the pressure-gauge and a little figuring. then they went over all parts of the machine, put in gasoline and oil, and attended to watering the radiators, following which paul and bob departed for town. as in georgetown, they created a vast interest, and were considerably annoyed by the crowds of natives which followed at their heels, many of whom carried baskets of fruit on their heads and constantly importuned them to buy some of their wares. even in the windows of the houses they passed women holding naked babies, who stared out at them, and in the doorways stood girls, some of them beautifully gowned in silks, their dark hair falling like a shower about their comely nut-brown faces, while their eyes opened wide in wonder or dropped in abashment when they saw one of the handsome young americans look their way. para is directly on the equatorial line. it is also the metropolis of the mighty amazon, the king of all the world's rivers, whose width here at its mouth is close to two hundred miles, and which carries into the atlantic so much mud from the interior of south america that it is said the waters of that ocean are stained yellow for five hundred miles outward. this mighty stream is formed by countless mountain creeks and rivers draining practically the whole northern half of the continent, and these streams are formed in their turn by the heavy rains which fall frequently from swiftly-gathered clouds. in fact, it rains nearly every afternoon in para, and the air is always moist, so much so, that articles made of steel and iron quickly rust, and furniture must be pegged together rather than glued to keep it from coming apart. paul and bob found para quite a good-sized city, but on very low ground. along the docks of the mighty river were many kinds of boats and ships, from stately ocean-liners to the tub-like barges used to float down from bolivia great cargoes of raw rubber. there were numerous schooners unloading vegetables and fruit, and countless dugouts paddled by natives. cargadores, in their bare feet, were carrying goods in and out of the various large craft, supporting the heaviest of bundles on their bare heads. their faces were all shades of white, brown, and black. among them were negroes from jamaica, and spaniards, portuguese, and mulattoes from all parts of brazil. the business buildings were three and four stories high, and built close to the sidewalks along narrow streets. their walls, the boys noticed as they crowded their way along, were of all colors, some being faced with blue, yellow, and green porcelain tiles. by asking questions they found the telegraph office, and there sent the message to mr. giddings at panama, requesting that the helium-gas be sent to nukahiva by fastest boat. they also wired a report of their progress. they had by this time another roll of exposed kodak films, and this was mailed to the _daily independent_. no sooner had they reappeared from the post-office than they were once more besieged with peddlers asking them to make a purchase of their wares. paul and bob stopped when they saw some particularly luscious-looking oranges and bananas, and were surprised upon asking the price to find that they could have a dozen of each kind for the value of five cents; and oh! how sweet and juicy they were when they sank a tooth into them. they bought some baked goods in a little shop, and as they emerged an old man with a parrot on one shoulder and a small monkey on the other blocked their pathway, and begged them to look at "nice parryote, nice monk." they shook their heads, when they saw other vendors crowding forward, and were about to push by when the monkey sprang nimbly upon paul's own shoulder, snatched off his cap, shook it in front of his eyes, and put it back in place again. paul and bob both laughed, and harder yet as the bright little animal shot a paw into paul's pocket and adroitly drew out a brazilian gold coin called a milreis, worth about fifty-four cents in american money. "you give five milreis, me give monk," said the old mulatto. paul shook his head. "you give four milreis, me give monk." "no; that's more than i have of these coins." "you give three milreis, me give--" "only have two of them left," said paul. "you give two milreis, take monk." "it's a bargain," laughed paul. and he fished another of the coins out of his pocket, accepted the end of the rope tied to the monkey, and went off with bob, his newly-acquired pet still contentedly occupying his shoulder. "we'll surprise john and tom when we get back to the field," chuckled paul. "they won't be looking for this addition to the crew of the sky-bird." "i'd say not," declared bob, also chuckling. and indeed paul's little hairy friend did create a lot of interest when they arrived beside the airplane, john and tom both playing with him, for several minutes, and going into hilarious laughter at the funny antics of the weazened-faced creature, which looked so much like the wrinkled old mulatto from whom he had been purchased, that paul said he should henceforth be called "grandpa." they put the monkey in the cabin, and climbed in themselves, since all was in readiness for the departure. night had fallen, but the sky was clear and moonlit. so there was no trouble, by helping matters with their searchlight, in hopping off and turning their head across the big atlantic toward the shores of africa. as the trade-winds were blowing quite stiffly in their faces, john, who was at the throttle, determined to mount high enough to overcome their most resistant effects. when at an altitude of about five thousand feet, he brought the sky-bird out horizontally, with her nose set by compass toward freetown. before they could reach this african seaport it would be necessary for them to travel considerably more than two thousand miles and meet whatever storms might develop. but all had such confidence in the capabilities of the sky-bird that none had any worries, fierce as some of the atlantic storms were known to be. as they could no longer see the sea beneath them, owing to the darkness and fog which lay between, john had to rely entirely upon intuition and his compass to strike freetown. aerial navigation over immense bodies of water is similar to navigation on the seas themselves, except that the indispensable sextant of the mariner is of little use in the air, owing to the high speed of travel and the fact that allowances have to be made for the drift of the machine when side-winds are blowing--an extremely difficult factor to determine accurately. in side-winds the machine makes leeway in addition to its forward movement, and it is the ratio of one to the other which the successful pilot must work out correctly, especially when flying above clouds or when land features are unobserved. in this particular instance our boys were supplied with charts indicating the trend of all normal winds in each locality and their approximate force at various altitudes. thus, by consulting his speedometer, john was able to figure out with a fair degree of certainty what allowances he should make from dead reckoning in order to strike their destination--or rather, we should say that tom, as john's aid, did most of this figuring, for a pilot generally has his hands full in guiding his steed. the sky-bird was acting much better now, since her equalizing of weight back at para. she lacked some of the speed of her old-time self, but rode smoothly and evenly in the hardest gusts. it was once more a pleasure to sit in her cabin, even if the rival airplane was ahead of them. "we'll give them the race of their lives yet," observed tom, as he studied the map and the speedometer alternately. "we surely will," said his companion. and both of them clicked their teeth in a way which boded no good for the rival craft ahead. shortly before midnight they crossed the equator for the second time since they had left panama. but, rolled in their comfortable hammocks and sound asleep, with grandpa, the monkey, blinking drowsily in a corner nearby, neither bob nor paul was conscious of the fact. chapter xviii an irritating delay paul was awakened the next morning by feeling a gentle tug at his nose. unused to such a summons as this, he opened his eyes with a start. there on his breast squatted grandpa, his little head cocked comically to one side, his beady little eyes glistening with mischief, and his slim fingers just reaching out for another tweak. the monkey gave a lightning-like spring to the back of a nearby seat when he saw paul looking at him, and here he set up a shrill chattering, which also awoke bob and caused tom and john to whirl around. "you fellows have got a good alarm-clock now, the way it looks," called tom, laughing, and taking in the situation. "grandpa will save john and me the trouble of stirring you sleepy heads up after this, i expect." paul and bob sprang out of their hammocks, and the former seized the monkey and laughingly shoved his nose up against one of the window panes. far down below were the rolling billows of the great atlantic, the early sun striking them into many beautiful tones of green and blue, and cutting a silver pathway across the curling crests. a school of dolphins was leaping out of the water off to the left. from the opposite window the youth could see a small emerald island in the distance, but everywhere else was water, vast reaches of it. grandpa evidently had no eye for nature, as viewed from this novel position, for he quickly twisted out of paul's arms and jumped down to the floor of the cabin, where he pranced about excitedly. "it's just a little bit too high to suit your exalted monkeyship, isn't it?" chuckled paul. "well, you'll get used to it, grandpa, before you get around the world with us! i'll promise you, sir, that you will be the farthest-jumping and highest-jumping monkey that ever lived. you ought to be proud!" after getting something to eat, paul relieved tom at the throttle, and bob tried to get freetown by radio. failing, he did get para, and advised them of their safety and approximate position over the atlantic. now that the weather had cleared up so that they could run in view of the ocean, john and tom themselves turned in for a much-needed sleep, leaving their younger companions to direct the course of the sky-bird on the last stage of the lap. the trade-winds were blowing freely, but with a lack of gustiness which made progress against them quite rapid and smooth. it was two hours later that those in the sky-bird saw the coastline of africa jutting out into the sea in a great bulge, and a little afterward they recognized landmarks agreeing with their chart. as they were slightly south of their course, bob made the proper deviation, and in twenty minutes they were over a muddy field, marked with the looked-for white t, at freetown, sierra leone. as they were spiraling downward they saw a crowd of natives gathered in one portion of the field, and caught a glimpse of an airplane's wings in their midst. many of this throng now rushed over to where the newcomers had landed, among them a tall englishman, who introduced himself as the port minister and person who was to supply them with a replacement of fuel. several other englishmen, all officers in the garrison of the town, came up and were introduced. "we 'av' been looking for you fellows, but not quite so soon," stated the port minister. "hif i had known--" "how is that?" asked john. "we are just about on schedule." "so you are; but those other flyers over there, who 'av' been 'ere the past two 'ours declared you 'ad been delayed in south hamerica hand would not be hin before to-morrow morning, so as we 'av' a coasting vessel with more petrol due 'ere then, i let them 'av' hall the petrol they wanted, hand i fear--" "they had no reason for telling you we were delayed to such an extent as that, without it was to further their own interests," interrupted john, significantly. "but i don't see their game." "i don't know, i'm sure," was the response; "but has i was saying, they asked for an hextra filling of their tanks, hand so--well, gentlemen, i am sorry to say it, but there hisn't ten gallons left." our friends heard this with mixed feelings. they were rightfully incensed at their rivals for such a dastardly trick, vexed with the port minister, and dismayed to think that they would have to wait until the following day before they could resume their journey, for at para they had not filled their tanks to capacity. at this point cries arose in the other part of the field. they heard the familiar whir of an airplane propeller, and as they looked to where the _clarion_ had stood, they saw the natives scatter and the gray machine of the other crew shoot up into the air. rapidly it gained altitude, and was soon a mere dot on the western sky. ignoring the yells of the port minister and his military countrymen, the _clarion_ crew had gone straight on, and there seemed nothing for our boys to do now except await the arrival of more gasoline as patiently as they could. john and tom set to work cleaning up the sky-bird, for the field here was low and very muddy from recent rains, and as they had dashed through the slime in landing much of it had splattered over their propeller and under-carriage. paul and bob went into town, followed by a throng of young negroes who fought for the privilege of getting closest to them. they found the stores small and mostly unpainted, and the houses principally shambling and squatty, most of them having thatched roofs. the streets were narrow, crooked, and dirty, but there were areas about some of the more pretentious dwelling-places which were really entrancing in the wealth of their tropical plants and stately palms. on the whole, the stone garrison, setting a little remote from the town proper, was the largest and best-constructed building, although this looked old and somber. freetown, the capital of the little british colony of sierra leone, is all on low ground, and the air is moist and extremely humid, even unhealthful for those not accustomed to it. just before dark a terrific thunder-shower sprang up with all of the suddenness of such equatorial storms, and bob and paul made for the field as fast as their legs could carry them. they sprang inside of the sky-bird's cabin, wet to the skin, where john and tom were already ensconsed, and grandpa the monkey gave them a noisy and hearty welcome. a little later, with the rain pattering heavily down upon the roof, all hands turned in for the first ground sleep they had had since starting out upon their trip. shortly after daylight the next morning they were astir, to find the rain had ceased but that the field was a mass of ooze. through this tom made his way to the cobblestone street and down to the piers. but the coasting steamer had not yet arrived; in fact, she did not come in until after eight o'clock, and it was two hours later before the flyers succeeded in getting their tanks filled with the gasoline she had brought. then it was found necessary to secure the aid of a half-dozen negroes, and to lay down many strips of heavy bark for traction, before the sky-bird could be run out of her mired position. paul was at the throttle as they took off. when he had attained a fair altitude, he gradually increased the speed until they were running full out. never since the beginning of the trip had they felt such urgent need of putting the airplane through at a fast clip, but that time had now come, for they were fourteen hours behind schedule time and sixteen hours behind their rivals. the sky-bird fairly cut the air like a knife, and the roar of propeller, wind, and engine was so great that our friends found conversation out of the question except by shouting in one another's ears. poor grandpa cowered in the farthest corner of the cabin, peeping out from behind one of the hammocks, as meek as a kitten, his tail crooking uneasily. but finding that the strange noises did him no harm, he presently came out and took up a position where he could look through the glass-floor window at the fleeting country below. it seemed only a few minutes before, rising higher, they shot over the ragged chain of the kong mountains in western senegambia, passing within sight of mount loma's bare peak. then, dropping again until they were not more than a thousand feet high, they flew along over the tablelands to the eastward, recognized the joliba river as it lay a yellow, twisting band below them, and a little later crossed the southern end of the district of bambarra. great forests and jungles and canebrakes swept past them. in those tangles of gnarled trees, matted vines, interlacing rank grasses, and clusters of towering plants, so dank with the odor of wet and decay that the air even up where the flyers were seemed charged with it, lurked many a monster reptile and ferocious beast. often the four boys saw the majestic form of a lion or the lumbering shape of an elephant as these animals were quenching their thirst at some open spot along a stream. and once they caught a brief glimpse of a terrific combat between what seemed to be two enormous rhinos, which had met in a little glen in the midst of a cluster of mahogany trees. how they would have liked to see the finish of this battle royal! indeed, they would have enjoyed nothing better than to land in some favored spot and do a little big-game hunting with their rifles! if they had been ahead of their adversaries instead of behind, they might have indulged in such sport, they thought. but now it would be unwise to waste a moment. they must make every endeavor to reach their next airport, kuka, by nightfall. this small town was on the western bank of the salty lake chad, in the very heart of africa, and on the southern border of the great sahara desert. it possessed no railroads or telegraph service, being linked with the outside world only by caravan route, and its inhabitants were practically all half-civilized negroes of the fulbee tribe, who retained all of their forefathers' superstitions and wore no garb over their frescoed black bodies except a short gikki or skirt. mr. giddings and mr. wrenn had had great difficulty in getting an english-speaking man to set up a field at this point for their flyers, and it was only after considerable telegraphing that a scotch trader named macinnis, situated at lagos, the nearest coast-port of any size, had agreed to get a supply of gasoline and oil to kuka and meet the airplanes when they arrived. it was five o'clock when the boys passed over the low banks of the niger river. by seven they were in the heart of the wild, level territory of sokoto, skimming over vast expanses of plume-like grasses and extensive marshes and swamps. strange birds of enormous size flew up out of the morasses, startled at the sight and sound of the airplane. some tried to follow it, evidently to give it battle, but the swiftest of them were hopelessly outdistanced before they were well started. when the sun disappeared behind the forest back of them, the flyers were still making speed for their destination, with bob at the throttle. pretty soon the lengthening shadows and obscuring of detail below convinced the crew that night was just about upon them, and that if they did not reach kuka within the next thirty minutes they were very likely to be in such darkness that they would overrun it and never know the difference. some of them began to wonder if they had not missed their course, when a cry came from bob, and they all ran forward and looked out of the front windows at the object he was pointing out. chapter xix saved by the searchlight what our flyers saw was a very large body of water, with a strong tone of blue to it. as far to the north as they could see, it stretched, also to the east and south. and the shoreline on the western side nearest them was covered with what seemed a never-ending border of great forest trees, many of which had all the characteristics of mangroves. this great expanse of water they knew could not be the red sea, nor could it be the indian ocean; for they had not traveled far enough westward to reach these bodies. unquestionably, therefore, it was that which they were looking for--lake chad. as they swept nearer, under reduced speed, they observed somewhat to their left a good-sized collection of dwellings in an opening among the mangroves, evidently a town. swerving in that direction they were soon circling above the place at an altitude of about five hundred feet, hoping that it might prove to be kuka, their next stop. by this time it had grown so dark that they could just make out the buildings and surroundings. the former seemed to be nothing more than rude huts with rounded thatched roofs covered by saplings. the flyers saw many dark figures, with little or no garb, running about and excitedly gesticulating upward to their position. as they circled lower, these figures, evidently natives, suddenly vanished within their abodes. "they seem scared to death of us," remarked paul, laughing. "apparently they think the sky-bird is some gigantic member of the feathered kingdom about to swoop down and devour them for their sins," added paul, who was equally amused. "pete deveaux and his crowd ought to have landed here some time this morning, though, and you would think the sight of their machine taking on gas would have gotten the blacks used to an airplane." be that as it may, every one of the dusky figures below had vanished as though the earth had swallowed them up. a strange if not foreboding stillness hung over the town. you would have thought it contained not a single being, at least not one who was awake. all at once john, who had been intently looking around the outskirts of the town, observed an open spot marked with the welcome sign of a white t. he joyfully called the attention of his comrades to this, and as they looked they saw the form of a man emerge from the shadows bordering the field and wave his arms upward at them. from the fact that this person was attired in european costume, they judged he must be mr. macinnis, the scotch trader who had been appointed to look after their fuel interests at this point. it was a novel experience to be able to make a landing unhampered by throngs of curious inhabitants, as they now did. the field was quite level, though sandy, as might be expected so close to the big desert, and they had to dodge several clumps of small growths, presumably juju trees, before they could taxi to a stop. the man in linen now rushed up to them, and introduced himself as mr. macinnis. he hurriedly shook hands with the boys, displaying, they thought, great nervousness while greeting them, and several times he turned his head and looked in the direction of the nearest shacks of the town. then he asked what they thought a very queer question. "have you fellows enough petrol and oil to last you through to your next stop?" "that's aden," answered john; "we didn't fill to capacity at freetown, and i'm afraid not. why, what is the matter? haven't you any fuel here for us?" "i have plenty of both petrol and oil here for you," said the scotchman, with another look toward the huts, "but i am afraid for your lives if you stay to put it aboard." "how is that?" cried tom, his usually smiling countenance growing sober for once, while his companions felt a vague uneasiness. "it's this way," stated macinnis. "about eight o'clock this morning the airplane that is racing you came in. it was the first machine of the kind the natives had ever seen, and they were greatly frightened, thinking jobbajobba, one of their heathen devils, had appeared in the guise of a great bird, and was about to attack the children of the wicked of them. when the aviators climbed out, and they saw that they were human, they lost some of this fear, but remained at a respectable distance all the time the 'great bird was being given a drink.' then two of the men--one was the slender and dark-complexioned fellow--went into the town sight-seeing. in the course of their rounds they stole the ivory head, set with gold eyes and teeth, off of the body of one of the tribe's most cherished idols, the god of ogu nogo. this was not discovered until the aviators had departed in their airplane, but then the fulbees were wild with rage at the 'bird-men,' as they called them, and swore to kill them if they should ever return. to-night they observed you landing, as i did. they are now in hiding, probably with weapons, and are undoubtedly watching your every move, ready to strike when the time comes, thinking you to be those other fellows or men of as evil instincts. as i said, i fear for your lives if you tarry here." and as he finished he once more glanced nervously around at the huts and shacks in the gloom of the fast-gathering night. but in that direction all was so quiet that john hopefully remarked: "i think they are too frightened to appear. we need more gasoline, as we have been running very hard and our tanks are low. we will hurry matters up, and three of us will fill while the other stands guard with a rifle." mr. macinnis then helped john, tom, and paul carry the big square tins of british petrol, which is the same as american gasoline, from the field shelter to the sky-bird, where, in the course of a half-hour, two hundred gallons were poured into the tanks, also ten gallons of oil. in the meantime, bob giddings, rifle in hand, stood close by, alert for danger. he watched the nearest buildings of the natives sharply, but though he saw numbers of black figures skulking in the shadows among them, no sign of hostility was observed. the scotchman had signed his name to the document certifying to the stop of the flyers at kuka,--the paper on which they were to secure certifications at every scheduled airport,--and they were just in the act of starting over to the field tank to get some water for the airplane's radiators, when, without a moment's warning a hair-raising chorus of yells broke out on the brooding night air, and scores of savage-looking figures sprang from the shadows of the buildings into the open field. they emerged in a long straggling line, hooting and brandishing guns, spears and bows. they advanced toward the airplane in peculiar hops and side jumps, as if fearing an attack upon themselves. not once did they cease their blood-curdling shouts. rapidly they neared the objects of their anger and hatred. for a full five seconds the boys stood as if rooted in their tracks, too horrified and astounded to think or act. the sharp voice of the scotchman, however, brought them to their senses. "you've fooled here too long; it's too late to get away now! they're mad as wet hornets. jump inside your cabin quick, and defend yourselves as well as you can!" "but you, sir?" cried tom. "they won't harm me, because i'm not a flyer." the boys dashed into the cabin and shut the door, while the scotchman hurried away from the airplane. it was certain that there was no time to get out and crank the propeller and rise before the mad fulbees would be upon them. cornered in the little cabin of the machine they would sell their lives as dearly as possible. as they stood, guns in hand, watching through the windows, while the frenzied blacks drew cautiously nearer, spreading a cordon of hundreds all around the sky-bird, they could see in the moonlight that the fulbees were grotesquely painted on arms and faces, while their bodies were entirely naked except for a dirty-looking cloth wrapped around their loins in the form of a short skirt. every one of them was armed, and as they contracted their circle, guns, spears, and bows were frequently raised in threatening position; but for some reason no shots were fired. the inmates knew, however, that when nearer approach brought more assurance of hitting their target, the blacks could be counted upon to open up actual hostilities. and now this thought brought a sudden and grave fear to their minds, one unnoticed before. the helium-gas tanks in the hollow wings and rear fuselage! bullets, spears and arrows striking them would penetrate, and the tanks thus punctured would lose their last ounce of the precious gas! it was a terrible predicament in which the flyers now found themselves, to be sure. by fighting they might preserve their lives, but that very act would make their world-trip impossible. what could they do? as the drowning man catches with hope at the floating straw. bob now conceived an almost impossible but startling idea for delivering them from their dilemma. "the searchlight!" he cried. "these blacks never have seen one. perhaps we can frighten them away with ours!" "great idea, bob," approved john, while the others also applauded the scheme. "paul, you work the lever that revolves the lamp up on top of the cabin there, and, bob, you throw in the juice." no sooner had he spoken, than both boys were at their stations. the next moment a great white path, widening as it went, streamed out into the darkness, lighting up everything in its reach with the brilliancy of day, but with a bluish-whiteness which must have been decidedly terrifying to the superstitious negroes. like an accusing finger the strange light swept around the field, raising and lowering, resting a few moments on this group and then that group of petrified, hideously-painted faces, from which eyeballs stood out like knobs of white marble. in an instant their incensed cries had ceased, and they had shrunk, cringing, back in their tracks. but only for a few moments, and then their gurgled yells arose once more, this time in ear-splitting fright, as all turned and fled toward the nearest forest. and that great, terrifying white eye of the big "bird" followed them, shining for many a rod on black backs which were so wet with perspiration that they looked like oiled eelskin. weapons were thrown in every direction as the fulbees fled. whenever one would look around and see that glaring eye looking straight at him, he would shut his own eyes and shriek, and then go dashing frantically on. some even threw themselves prostrate when the flood overtook them, and uttered invocations to their gods for protection from the monster, until they could pluck up courage enough to continue their flight. had the situation not recently been such a serious one for them--indeed they were not out of it yet!--the flyers would have roared with laughter. as it was, they kept the light traveling over the fulbees until the very last one had fled. then at a quick word from john, they all jumped out of the cabin and swung the airplane around for a quick take-off. tom spun the propeller; there was a roar as the engine caught, and a few seconds later they were mounting up into the starlit heavens of the equatorial night. at a height of two thousand feet, they presently looked down, safe from the menace of the black populace whose reception had been so rabid. but kuka was blotted out in the mantle of gloom which lay between. only the sparkling ripples of lake chad, struck by the beautiful tropical moon, could be seen. chapter xx a jungle adventure so fast had the flyers in the sky-bird come across the western part of the african continent, at its greatest bulge, that, coupled with their very brief stop in kuka, they found they were starting out for aden, arabia, with a gain of approximately seven hours upon their lost time of fourteen hours in freetown. they were now, therefore, just seven hours behind schedule--perhaps a little more than that behind their rivals,--but in the very fact that they were cutting down both items, they felt vastly encouraged, and as the airplane headed eastward across lake chad there was only one thing to worry them to any extent. this was the need of water; that is, all felt that the need would become an urgent one before daylight should come and a chance be given to land and replenish the limited amount which they knew must now be in the radiator, owing to the impossibility of getting water as expected at kuka. john was at the throttle, with tom assisting. paul and bob were playing with grandpa, still too excited over their recent adventure to turn in and get some sleep, as john said they ought to do. after a little while they turned their attention to studying the chart and schedule. frequently they compared notes, and now and then jotted down some figures on a pad. "do you know, john," observed paul, looking up very cheerfully, "that if we continue to travel at the rate we did between freetown and kuka we shall make up all lost time by morning, and arrive at aden about on schedule?" "you don't say!" exclaimed john. "you kids have made a mistake," informed tom disbelievingly. "no mistake about it," protested bob; "it's an out-and-out fact." "well, that's cheerful news, then," said tom. "i know we hit her up to well over two hundred an hour coming across to kuka." "and we'll do as much on this stretch, if our water only holds out," declared john determinedly. "that's the rub," put in paul. "i'm sure it won't hold out, and if we work right up to the last drop, i'm afraid we may have to make a forced landing, and that may be in the tops of the trees, for all we know." "or on an elephant's back," added bob jocosely. "well, i don't know but that we had better try to make a landing as soon as we come to a favorable spot where there is water," remarked john. "it is a fine moonlight night, and if we strike the right place i think we can make the ground. in a pinch, you know, we can use our searchlight." "speaking about searchlights--oh my! oh, my! will i ever forget how frightened those blacks were?" and paul laughed until the tears came into his eyes, now that the tension was off. tom joined him until both of them staggered and bumped together, causing grandpa to set up an excited chatter of inquiry. john kept the sky-bird low, down to less than a thousand feet, after crossing the lower neck of lake chad, for the chart showed no marked elevations which would make flying at that height hazardous, and it was certain that the closer they were to the earth the better they could detect a favorable place to land. it was really a beautiful night, and they opened the cabin windows after a while to enjoy the soft balmy air to the full. the wind then rushed through the cabin like a hurricane, roaring so that conversation was out of order; but they enjoyed its cool touch on their hot faces. one by one the stars had made their appearance, until now the heavens fairly glittered with them. how pretty they looked up there in the great blue vault in which they seemed the choicest settings of an angel's handiwork! somehow they seemed to sparkle more brightly, and the sky seemed a richer cobalt, than the sky the boys knew at home. but they missed many of the stars which they loved in america. the swift airplane in which they rode had taken them, day by day, and night by night, away from them. many stars which were unknown to them had taken their places, and they realized more strongly than all the pictures in the world could have shown them how very unlike were the skies of the northern and southern hemispheres. one of the most striking sights to them now was the constellation of the cross, commonly known by mariners as the southern cross, and which is composed of four brilliant stars. sirius, canopus, and centaur also filled a part of the heavens with their splendid light. mars, venus, saturn, and jupiter were old friends in new surroundings, and were all dazzlingly dressed. the part of the milky way between the stars sirius and centaur was so rich in stars and crowded nebula: that it seemed a perfect blaze of illumination. and there were the magellanic clouds, white-looking patches made up of countless stars individually unseen to the naked eye, and nebulae--mists of radiating light--all shining brilliantly and revolving around the starless south pole. to the northward was the constellation of the great bear, which reaches its meridian altitude about the same time as the constellations of the cross and the centaur. as the boys looked, stars appeared and disappeared. they were like a succession of guests, coming and going. after a while, the flyers saw a small river glinting in the moonlight and running along for the most part in the direction they were taking. "the first time we come to a level, open spot along this stream we will try for a landing," stated john. "it will afford us plenty of water for the radiator if we can get down to it." "and plenty of water for a good plunge, too," said paul. "i haven't had a bath since we left miami, and i'm fairly suffering for a wetting, if it's no more than a quick dip." "same here," seconded bob and tom. they were running much lower now, on the lookout for a place to stop, and so once more they could hear each other's voices. presently, just after clearing a dense forest, they saw the opening they sought. it was a grassy level, free of bushes and other obstructions, and well bathed in the soft light of the stars and moon. after some careful maneuvering, john brought the sky-bird down, and though the tall grasses wound in the landing-gear in coming to a stop, they broke off without doing any damage. "we'd better take the guns along," tom remarked. "that's so," agreed john; "we might run into some ferocious animal in this wild jungle." so each armed himself with a rifle and a pail, and john led the way, as he was the only one of the party supplied with a lantern, the others having small flashlights which were none too good for breaking a path in such wilds. they knew the river lay a short distance to the north, but in order to reach its banks from the place where they had landed, they had to cut through a strip of woods bordering it. it was tedious work getting through. the trees were close together and had to be dodged, and great leaves of plants as large as their bodies seemed to be everywhere, while vines of the toughest fiber frequently shut off their passage and had to be pushed aside or cut with knives. more than once one of the party tripped over unseen obstacles and measured his length in the soft, rank ground-vegetation. but it was only a little way to the river, and soon they stood upon its grassy bank. it was a pretty stream, not very deep, and seemed quite clear when john held the lantern down to it. they filled their pails, and then, risking all dangers of snakes and crocodiles, disrobed for a plunge. first one and then the other jumped in. how refreshing the cool waters felt to their hot, sticky bodies! they would have liked to do some diving, but were afraid of sunken logs, and contented themselves by splashing about, swimming a little, and making the woods ring with their laughter and shouts. then they came out and put on their clothes. picking up guns once more, and the pails now filled with water, they started back, john still leading. but they had not gone far when somewhere in advance of them they thought they heard the sound of a breaking limb. so sudden was the sound on the still night air, that all stopped very quickly, their hearts beating fast. they listened, but the sound was not repeated. they started on again, thinking the limb must have been a dead one and had fallen from some tree of its own weight. but scarcely had they taken a dozen steps when they heard another sharp cracking of wood, this time very close in front of them. their intuition told them now that they were near to some night prowler of the animal kingdom, and perhaps one of considerable size, judging from the crash. hardly realizing what they were doing, they set down their pails, and cocked their rifles, facing, with alertness and uneasiness, the direction whence the sounds had come. now they heard some rustling, as of leaves, directly ahead. it came slowly and cautiously closer. just as it seemed about to burst out upon their view it stopped. there was no more noise. all was silent; not even the note of a night-bird or the gentle chirp of an insect could be heard. for the first time the soughing of the tree-tops in the soft breeze above failed to meet their ears. what a deathly stillness it was! suddenly, right out of the black shadows ahead, there sounded on the hushed air of the night three terrific yells, one following immediately after the other. these piercing cries had hardly died out when another, of deeper note, and a veritable roar, filled the forest with its din. the leaves about the boys seemed fairly to quiver under the violent guttural reverberations. john ross may well have been excused for shaking as he held up his lantern in his right hand and threw its rays upon the tall undergrowth ahead, while his fingers tightened like bands of steel around the stock of his repeating-rifle. as he and his companions looked, they saw peeping through the foliage a black, fierce face, one of the ugliest and most ferocious that man could have imagined. it was staring straight at them. the brute's eyes were sunken under a heavy overhanging ridge of dusky skin. his eyes were small and black, and the iris of each shone like a diamond set in carbon. his forehead was low, receding, and covered with short bristling hair. his nose was broad and flat. his great jaw protruded frightfully, with the upper thin lip pressed tight, the lower curving away and displaying a row of long yellow tusks which could have bitten the hand off a man with one crunch. the animal now opened his cavernous mouth, and uttered yell after yell again, these sounding something like the bark of a dog but being a hundred times louder. they were followed by terrific roars, somewhat similar to those of a lion, though of much greater volume. the cries rang through the forest from hill to hill, and died away in the distance. the woods was filled with the echo of his horrible voice. then, very slowly his whole body came in sight. he advanced clumsily and ponderously towards the little party of flyers, walking erect, his plain intent being to kill them. his short legs were hardly strong enough, as sturdy as they were, to support his huge body. all at once he stopped to look at them. how vindictive his eyes were! they seemed to say to the boys: "i will soon finish you!" then he beat his chest with his great fists and the noise was like a bandman striking a bass-drum. it was his challenge to combat. how long and muscular were the shaggy arms that directed these blows! how broad was his chest from which the sounds came! the hair stood almost erect on his body, and the hair on his head moved up and down. this hesitation of the monster proved the salvation of the flyers. it gave them a chance to pull their shattered nerves together and elevate their rifles. as he must keep the light on the creature, which now all recognized as a large gorilla, so that his companions and himself could see to shoot, john had only one arm with which to handle his gun. but he brought the weapon up quickly, and pressed the trigger just as three other shots rang out from the guns of his companions, who had stepped on either side of their leader. a hoarse yell of rage and pain answered the reports. they saw the gorilla stagger, then drop to all fours, and lunge toward them. there was no chance to retreat. as quick as a flash john dropped his own rifle, so that he could hold the lantern in both hands and direct its rays better upon the beast, and cried to his comrades to fire again. no sooner had the words left his lips than the others brought their repeaters once more to their shoulders. on account of the poor light on the barrels of their weapons they were again compelled to take snap shots, shooting with both eyes open; but this time with greater success. the big gorilla fell, uttering a fearful groan. he rolled over upon his back, his massive limbs twitched convulsively, and then he was still. going up to him cautiously with the lantern, they found that he was dead. extended, his great arms measured nearly nine feet; his chest had a girth of seven feet, and he lacked only one inch of being six feet in height. these facts tom ascertained with the use of a small tapeline which he carried in his pocket. "let's skin him," said tom; "i know how, and it won't take but a few minutes." "sure," agreed paul; "his skin will be a valuable trophy to take back home with us. jiminy, i wish it had been daylight and we had brought our camera with us! we could have secured some pictures worth while for the _daily independent_." with his keen-edged sheath knife, tom soon had the skin removed from the giant brute. the performance of this operation was far from an agreeable one, however, both for surgeon and observers. so human-like was the gorilla that it seemed like skinning a man! as they made their way onward again, carrying their trophy in a roll tied with withes made from vines. bob ventured to say: "i wonder how the gorilla came to be awake and to attack us this way?" "i think he must have had a mate, perhaps a family, nearby," replied john. "i have read that the mother and her babies always go up into a tree to sleep, while the father squats down at its base to guard them, and here he sleeps with one eye open and the other closed, as the saying is. at least he arouses at the slightest sound of an enemy. we probably awakened him by our shouts while in bathing, and being so close to him when we came back along a slightly different path, he thought we were going to attack the family upstairs, and showed fight right away." the little party regained their airplane without further incident; the radiator was drained, and the fresh water put in. then, feeling that there was no further danger of the engines running hot, they took off. as the sky-bird arose into the air, the flyers noticed that grandpa the monkey was slightly excited. this they attributed to the presence of the gorilla's skin; but when they saw grandpa continue to dash wildly about the cabin, from their shoulders to the rear window, out of which he would take a quick look only to fly back to them and chatter wildly and coweringly, paul thought he would see what could be the trouble. one glance was enough. he shut the open window with a bang, and turned to his companions with a pale face. "fellows," said he; "we've got a passenger!" "a passenger?" cried they. "yes," said paul, "a monstrous big snake!" chapter xxi the double loop for a moment or two john and bob stared at paul blankly, unable to comprehend the import of his announcement. tom was at the throttle, and while he had heard the startling words, he was too occupied in guiding the sky-bird to do anything except take a quick glance backward. "a snake?" repeated bob. "not on the machine?" cried john. "yes," paul said, with a seriousness which left no further doubt as to the truth of his statement. "he's a whopper--must be twelve or fourteen feet long and as thick as my leg. he's there on the fuselage just outside of the window, hanging on for dear life. if i hadn't shut that window just as i did, i believe he would have crawled in here in a minute." john and bob now hurried to the window and looked out. in the moonlight they could distinctly see a huge reptile, either a python or a boa-constrictor, coiled up in the angle formed by the juncture of the airplane body and the broad base of the left wing. the creature was so long that its tail passed up over the rounded fuselage and out upon the other wing. bob flashed his electric pocket lamp upon it, and by the yellow and brown mottled spots upon its body and the double plates of whitish scale at its tale, and the wicked-looking triangular head, they were sure it must really be a python, one of the most dreaded of african snakes. these creatures think a monkey a very choice morsel of food, and undoubtedly it had been attracted to the airplane, while it stood in the grass, by the appearance of grandpa in the open cabin window, but had been frustrated in its designs by the return of the flyers and the sudden rising of the machine. now, with the window shut, the boys seemed safe enough for the present. they could see that the big snake was extremely uneasy. as the wind whistled by him, his great tail twisted and untwisted, and he seemed to be trying to get a better hold on the smooth surface, while his beady eyes glared at them only a moment in the glow of the flashlight, and then he transferred his attention to the landscape below them. his forked fangs darted in and out during this time with the angriest lightning-like movement. paul relieved tom at the throttle for a few minutes, so that the latter could have a look at the reptile. when tom came back again to his post, he said, with plain uneasiness: "i never saw such a big snake before, paul. between the rush of wind and the roar of the engine and propeller, he seems scared out of his wits." "we've got to get him off of there somehow--and mighty soon, too," put in john, with decision. "tom, if that monster should begin to slip a little most likely he will coil his tail around some of our control wires,--and then what?" their faces blanched at this prospect. they knew what that would mean. it would mean that the great creature would either operate the airplane's rudders when they should not be operated, or would prevent tom from moving them when they must be moved. in either event, the result would be disaster to machine and crew. "good heavens, boys!" said tom, so nervous his voice shook, "get rid of that snake as quick as you can!" he fancied he could see the rear control levers moving at that instant. the other three flyers knew the importance of these instructions, but how were they to carry them out? the reptile was too large to be shoved off with a stick or pole, and would probably squirm through the window while they were attempting it. and they were afraid to use a gun, as, in the case of a miss or a little lurch of the airplane at the moment of firing, the bullet might puncture the hollow wing or rear fuselage and let helium escape. it was bob who solved the puzzle. "why not try a loop or two?" he asked. their hearts jumped with hope at this. so everything was made tight in the cabin, with the straps and fastenings which had been provided when the machine was made. even grandpa had to submit to being roped up in one of the swinging hammocks. when the boys had buckled themselves down to their seats, john gave tom the word, and he began to rise slowly. at close to two thousand feet he brought the sky-bird quickly and smoothly upward until she stood almost on her tail end. then tom threw the elevators and ailerons hard up, and held them there. they were going at a rate of close to a hundred miles an hour at the moment, and their velocity brought them around in a pretty loop. there was no way for them to tell if the serpent had been dislodged, so, to make as sure as he could of accomplishing his purpose, tom kept his controls as set, and they made another or double loop. this time he straightened out his controls as he came up to the horizontal, and they ran swiftly ahead again on a level keel. his companions quickly unloosened their straps, and ran for the rear window. a feeling of the greatest thanksgiving filled their souls and joy lit up their faces. the python was gone! he had hurtled through the air during one or the other of the loops, and his long sinuous body was probably at that moment lying crushed upon the hard ground, or impaled upon the sharp stub of some forest tree, far below. it had been a night of intense excitement. now that they began to beat through the air in the old tuneful way, and there was nothing more to claim their attention until they should arrive at aden sometime in the morning, bob and paul took to their hammocks for sleep, but first bob got khartum on the wireless and delivered their position and a brief description of their adventures. as may be imagined, however, the two youths did not shut their eyes immediately. there was much to think about and to talk about before even fatigue could get the better of them. tom put the sky-bird through on a straight course for aden as fast as he dared run the night engine, which was very close to its limit, now that it had had a chance to cool off and was well supplied with water. it was important that they should make speed, for in the stop for water and the subsequent maneuvering to rid themselves of their unwelcome passenger, the python, they had lost upwards of an hour's time. flying high, and depending entirely upon the compass for striking aden, they shot through the starlit tropical night like a meteor, showing no lights except the two small ones on the dashboard in the cabin, by means of which tom could observe the instruments and the controlling levers below. thus they crossed the famous nile, sweeping below khartum and across the plains of kordofan, and when the first streaks of daylight appeared ahead of them they were just entering the plateaus of northern abyssinia. paul and bob now relieved tom and john, and the latter young men took a nap. it was their custom to work in pairs, the observer preparing food for himself and the pilot during the course of flight. sometimes the observer took the throttle long enough to give his friend a chance to eat, and sometimes the pilot retained his seat, allowing the automatic arrangement to do the guiding for him while he munched his food. just before seven o'clock paul and bob saw two large bodies of water ahead of them, one stretching to the right and the other to the left. the chart told them that the northern body was the red sea and the southern one the gulf of aden, which opens into the indian ocean. between these bodies lay a narrow belt of water, flanked on the western or african side by rocky, wooded hills, and on the eastern side by low, sandy shores dotted with palms. this was the strait of bab-el-mandeb, and the country beyond was persia. aden could not be more than fifteen minutes' run east now, and so bob awakened his sleeping comrades while paul guided the airplane across the strait. they flew a little higher, later, following the general contour of the terraced slopes of the mountains along the arabian coast. as the sky-bird came leisurely over the hills surrounding this british seaport of aden, they could see that the town nestled in the crater of an extinct volcano, as they had read. all around the low, white buildings spread the rugged hillsides, and in declivities they passed over numbers of the great brick tanks or reservoirs which catch and store the scanty rainfall of the region and thus furnish aden with its only water supply. the flyers saw many gowned figures, some on camels, pause to look upward at them, as they began to circle the town in quest of their landing field. bob was the first to discern it--a fairly level stretch in the southern end of the valley or basin, marked in the way agreed upon, and containing two small buildings, neither of which was large enough to admit the machine. but they cared nothing for shelter for the sky-bird, as they did not purpose staying any longer than necessary for fuel replenishment and news dissemination by telegraph and letter. so they quickly settled down in the midst of a wondering ring of arabs. mr. griggs, the american consul here, now came forward with a couple of british military officers, and the flyers met with a hearty reception. it seemed good to run upon one of their own countrymen again, after seeing so many strange faces since leaving panama. mr. griggs insisted upon their going to his home with him for breakfast, and to this they consented as soon as they found he had made full arrangements for having some british workmen at the garrison refill the sky-bird's tanks. they found that their rivals had arrived just after daylight, and had departed for colombo, ceylon, less than twenty minutes before their own appearance. this was cheering news. they had gained a lot on them in crossing the african continent. chapter xxii above the clouds mr. griggs, the american consul at aden, proved an affable, pleasant entertainer. his little wife was also very genial and painstaking for their comforts, declaring at their protests that she was doing no more for them than she had done for the other flyers when they came through, a short time before. the couple had two children, a boy and a girl, and both of these plied the boys with innumerable questions about their journey, expressing the greatest interest and excitement when they worked out of paul the story of the adventure with the gorilla and python. after the meal, which was very appetizing and refreshing, they spent a short time preparing their reports to the _daily independent_, and then accompanied their host to the post-office, where the letter and roll of films were mailed. at the telegraph office they received a pleasant surprise in the shape of a message from mr. giddings, which stated their reports were coming in to the newspaper all right, and that the greatest interest was being manifested in them by the world in general and by new york people in particular. "whatever you do, don't let the other crew beat you," were his concluding words. "i have ordered the helium shipped to nukahiva by fast steamer." "that's good news," said john, with satisfaction, referring to the helium, and the others accorded with him. they dispatched a telegram to mr. giddings, and then started out to buy some fruit and other foods. as they went along the narrow, crooking street upon which they had been walking they met so many arabs with small sprays of dark-green leaves which they put in their mouths and chewed, that their curiosity was aroused, and bob asked mr. griggs what the leaves were. "those are the leaves of the khat bush," was the response. "you must have passed numerous plantations of such bushes up on the hillsides as you flew over into the basin here. the yemen arabs like to chew the leaves so well that they have all of the passion for them that a toper has for whiskey, and they will spend their last rupee for a small bundle." "does this chewing of the leaves intoxicate them?" asked john. "oh, no; the leaves are quite harmless. but they do produce a strangely exhilarating effect upon those who chew them. if you ask a yemen arab what he chews the leaves for, he will invariably look at you with astonishment and tell you that he forgets all his troubles, sees the most beautiful of fairies and the richest rose-gardens of allah, and lives in a new world." "do they go to the fields after it themselves?" inquired tom. "not at all," said mr. griggs; "the khat is brought into town every morning about eleven o'clock by long caravans of camels which proceed from the khat farms along the mountain slopes. long before these camels appear in the valley, with a bundle of khat swung on each side of the beasts, messengers on fleeter camels have brought the tidings of approach. from the shelters of the shops, so silent except just now, cheerful cries break out; the streets are filled with arabs who sing joyfully; tikka gharries rattle madly by, whips waving and turbans awry; there are flashes of color from rich men's gowns and the sounds of their clicking oryx-hide sandals as they rapidly strike the stony pavements; there is a continual blunt clatter from the tom-toms in the hands of long-gowned fellows. they are all going to the market where the khat will soon arrive, each one anxious to have first choice and get the best bargain. there they will bicker with the khat traders for an hour sometimes, then in will come the despised hadjis, the venders of firewood, who will buy up for a few pice the scraps which remain." this was all very interesting to the flyers, but it was high time to hurry back and resume their flight; so, restraining their impulse to ask more questions or investigate the attractions of the town, they bought their supplies, and returned with the american minister to the landing-field. ten minutes later the sky-bird was mounting easily up into the sky, viewed by hundreds of shouting arabs. it was good-bye to persia now. looking at his watch, paul, at the throttle, saw that it was nine-fifty. they were leaving aden only fifty minutes behind schedule. that was not at all bad; but it was not pleasant to think that their rivals were still ahead of them. and two hours was a pretty stiff lead. they were not long in passing over the hills to the south, and then headed eastward out over the elongated gulf. looking back, john saw the sandhills by the sea glistening in the bright sunlight like mounds of gold-dust. every leaf and stem in the scrub stood out in black and silver filigree; and euphorbias and adeniums, gouty and pompous above the lower growths, seemed like fantasies of gray on a japanese screen covered with cerulean velvet. it was their last sight of persia, and one not soon to be forgotten. our friends now settled down for a long hop, for they would have to fly all day and all night before reaching colombo. after a while they sighted socotra, the little isle off the coast of cape guardafui, from whence comes most of the world's supply of frankincense; then leaving its rocky shores behind them they cut straight across the persian sea, braving whatever tropical storm might arise. all that day they swept over the blue waters of this great body, frequently seeing ships below and sometimes small islands. toward night they ran into such hard headwinds that bob went up higher. he climbed steadily until the sky-bird had attained an altitude of nine thousand feet. here, as expected, they found the winds much less forceful, but the sea was blotted out entirely by the clouds through which they had passed in the process of rising and which now lay between. indeed, these clouds resembled a billowy ocean of white foam in themselves, or a landscape covered with hills and valleys of snow. the rounded cloud contours could easily be likened to the domes of snow-covered mountains. it was really difficult to conceive that that amorphous expanse was not actually solid. here and there flocculent towers and summits heaved up, piled like mighty snow dumps, toppling and crushing into one another, as the breezes stirred them. then there were tiny wisps of cloud, more delicate and frail than feathers or the down of a dandelion-blow. chasms hundreds of feet deep, sheer columns, and banks, extended almost beyond eye-reach. between the flyers and the sun stretched isolated towers of cumulus, cast up as if erupted by the chaos below. the sunlight, filtering through this or that gossamer bulk, was scattered into every conceivable shade and monotone. and around the margins of the heaving billows the sun's rays played unhampered, unrestricted, outlining all with edgings of the purest silver. the scene was one of such extravagance that the brain was staggered with what the eye tried to register. below the aviators, the shadow of their machine pursued them on white film like a grotesque gray bird of some supernatural region. the shadow followed tirelessly, gaining as the hour of noon approached, gaining still as afternoon began to gather, swell, and wane; and always it skipped from crest to crest down there just below, jumping gulfs like a bewitched phantom. it was so cold at this height that the aviators had to put on their heaviest garments, and they were content to open the windows only a slight way for ventilation. when darkness fell, they were still flying high, though at reduced speed, as john was afraid that a rate too much over schedule might cause them to overrun their destination before daylight could disclose its outlines to them. every half-hour the pilot's helper checked up their position on the chart. had this not been done from the very start of the trip, they never could have struck their ports with the accuracy they did, and disaster would have been the result, if not death to the crew. as it was, they had taken every precaution they could. when they had crossed the atlantic they had been careful to inflate the four spare inner tubes of their landing wheels, as these would make capital life-preservers in case the flyers were thrown into the sea; and one of the last things they did before leaving aden was to see that the tubes were still inflated. the long night passed with considerable anxiety on the part of tom and john, but when dawn finally broke they felt like uttering a "hurrah," and called paul and bob up from their sleep to witness the cheering sight ahead of them. at a distance of what must have been close to fifty miles, was a white patch in a haziness of green plain surrounded by hills and low mountains. the land itself was encircled by the sea, and when they saw a great peninsula spreading away to the northward, they knew that the island was ceylon, and the other land the peninsula of hindustan. somewhat off their course, they wheeled a little north. soon details became apparent in the island. the white patch grew, developing into a considerable town--colombo. they swept up and around it, then settled, and climbed stiffly out of the sky-bird not twenty yards from another airplane, about which four men in flying-suits had been working. these fellows looked toward the new arrivals scowlingly. but our flyers, overjoyed to think they had caught the _clarion's_ crew, only smiled back indulgently. chapter xxiii bombed by rocks our friends had landed in the lowlands just to the north of colombo, whose scattered buildings contained upwards of a hundred thousand inhabitants, most of whom were native singhalese, descendants of the colonists who came from the valley of the ganges and settled the island five hundred years before the birth of christ. to the southward arose the rocky headlands of the coast, and to the westward could be seen the somber peak of pedrotallagalla, the highest mountain of the island. numerous ships, some very crude and with queer sails, were in the harbor as the boys landed, and scores of natives in short skirts were loading and unloading these. undoubtedly the huge square boxes which some of them carried aboard so easily upon their heads contained tea, for which ceylon is famous. the person in charge of the landing-field here was a mr. young, an american clergyman connected with the local baptist mission. this tall gentleman came forward, accompanied by the british governor of the island, within a few moments after the flyers struck the ground. in fact, they were still stretching their cramped legs and arms when he greeted them and introduced the governor, sir henry hurst. "young men, i am more than delighted to shake hands with you," said the governor. "it looks as if you and the other crew over yonder were upon an epoch-making tour, for you are not ten minutes behind your schedule, as we have it in the london papers and also in our own colombian newspaper. my only regret is that you do not represent england instead of america." he laughed good-naturedly as he made the last remark. "it was quite a task for the governor and myself to get up at this early hour to receive you, but the occasion is well worth the effort," observed mr. young, smiling. "here we usually sleep very late, often as late as nine o'clock. even the singhalese and burghers are not yet generally up from their beds, though those who work at the wharves have appeared. if you had arrived a few hours later there would be thousands of the population here to see you." "we are well satisfied with the hour, then," said john. "the fewer natives we have around the sky-bird, the better we like it, both for working and taking off. how long has that other crew been in, sir?" "not more than a half-hour. they are taking on their fuel now, being assisted by a couple of burghers. they advised us that they would probably remain here until noon, being tired from their long flight from aden. i don't know; why, but the slender man with the dark skin and mustache particularly requested me to see that you knew this intention of theirs." the flyers thought this was rather strange. why should the _clarion's_ crew remain so long in colombo, when their interests in the race demanded as much time put into flying as possible? it was still more incomprehensible what object they would have in wishing the sky-bird's flyers to understand this intention, as by so doing our boys could make their plans to gain a heavy lead. it was too much of a puzzle for them to work out, so bob and paul, aided by two burghers (naturalized europeans), went to work overhauling the machine and storing fuel, while john and tom made their way into town with sir henry hurst to transact their business. when they returned they found the two younger members of their crew in a heated discussion with the _clarion_ fellows. "what's the matter here, anyhow?" demanded john, as he and tom pushed their way through the little ring of natives who had gathered about the principals. "it's just this way," said pete deveaux, with a grin meant to be very cool and indifferent, although his eyes roved uneasily; "we fellows were working on our machine here, minding our own business, when these two kids of yours came up and demanded to know why we had played you dirty at freetown and kuka. they accused us of purposely carrying off your share of fuel at freetown, and of stirring up the natives at kuka so you couldn't make a safe landing." "we simply couldn't stand keeping quiet any longer, john," put in paul very heatedly. "we thought it a good time to have it out with these fellows for their crookedness." "that's right; they're a bunch of snakes!" supported bob, his cheeks red with excitement and anger, and his fists doubled menacingly. john turned to the slouching figures of the rival crew. "do you fellows deny these charges?" he asked quietly. crossman, torrey, and lane looked at their leader, merely shrugging their shoulders. pete deveaux took a quick glance in their direction, in turn. then his face clouded a little darker, and he blurted out to his men: "you confounded babies, why don't you deny it? you know we didn't do anything on purpose to hold these guys back!" "that's right; we sure didn't," said sam lane. "of course not," added chuck crossman. "wouldn't think of it," interjected oliver torrey. our boys were disgusted by the cringing attitude of pete deveaux's cronies. two of them were larger than the frenchman, yet they seemed to be afraid of him. john saw that nothing was to be gained at this time by continuing the argument, so he pulled his comrades away with this parting and significant warning to their rivals: "well, deveaux, we'll let this drop now; but we certainly hope that you will take pains to see that nothing more of so strongly a suspicious character occurs on this trip!" pete deveaux snarled back some answer which they could not make out. our friends returned to the sky-bird. in a few minutes bob, who had climbed on top of the fuselage to test the helium valves, came down and said: "something new is going on over in our neighbor's yard, fellows. when i was up there i could see right over the natives' heads, and i noticed chuck crossman and pete deveaux hunting around the field till they found half-a-dozen rocks as big as a football, and they put these in the cabin of the _clarion_. wonder what on earth they intend to do with those?" "it's too hard a nut for me to crack," answered john. the others expressed equal inability to discern the purpose of their rivals, and the incident was soon forgotten. but twenty minutes later the familiar roar of a revolving airplane propeller greeted their ears, and they were surprised to observe the _clarion_ rising up over the field. they watched the machine until it had disappeared in the cloud mists to the east. then they awoke. all saw the game of their rivals now. by making the sky-bird's crew believe they did not intend to leave until noon, the latecomers would be inclined to take their time fitting up for the next hop, and this would give the _clarion's_ party a chance to make a sudden exit and gain a good lead before the others could get under way. there was no getting around it--pete deveaux was clever, if he were a rascal. this our friends had to admit to themselves, despite their dislike of the fellow. his methods of getting the best of them seemed to have no limit; and yet thus far they had been able to cling, by the hardest kind of work, right at his heels. this last trick was more honest strategy than deveaux had exhibited before, and they could therefore admire it in that sense. they hoped that from now on his maneuvers might be as free from maliciousness. but their rivals had not fooled them as badly as they thought. our flyers had lost no time upon landing in refitting, and when they saw the _clarion_ take off, they speeded up operations so fast that they were able to depart only fifteen minutes later. almost straight eastward they headed, bearing just a little to the southward, so as to strike singapore on a bee-line. they hoped to reach this stop some time before dark, which would give them approximately twelve hours' flying time. under ideal weather conditions, they could make the journey in considerably less time, but it was the season for the well-known monsoons of the indian ocean, and it was quite unlikely that they would be able to wing their way across the fourteen hundred odd miles of sea without encountering some of these deterrent trade-winds. it took them just an hour to cross the island of ceylon, and flying at about fifteen hundred feet, they winged their way out over the whitecaps of the ocean. to their unspeakable pleasure they found the winds not at all bad, and made good speed. bob was at the throttle, paul was observing, and john and tom were sleeping. they had been flying thus for perhaps two hours, when paul saw that for which he had been keenly watching for some time. it was a faint black speck, like a tiny bird, against the blue of the heavens ahead of them. he continued to watch this silently, after calling his chum's attention to it, until, under an increase of speed, the sky-bird had drawn close enough for them to observe that it was what they suspected--an airplane. in another hour they were near enough to recognize in it the unmistakable outlines of the _clarion_. to all appearances their rivals had also observed them, and were crowding on power, for now they gained much slower. yet they still continued to narrow the breach between them, steadily, rod by rod, and minute by minute. they could see that the _clarion_ was not well handled, for she wavered in her flight considerably. "they'd be wise if they'd throw those rocks out which they took aboard," commented paul. "that might help them to fly steadier." "they're flying all of a thousand feet higher than we are," said bob. "we're going to pass under them, i think, in the next half-hour." that was the way matters looked. the | _clarion_ was riding high, and was so close by this time that the windows in her cabin could be made out. against those panels of glass our friends felt sure some of the rival crew were even at that moment pressing anxious faces as they watched the sky-bird steadily creeping up on them. it was such an auspicious moment that paul went and aroused john and tom, so that they could see the sky-bird overtake and pass her adversary. those two worthies grumbled a whole lot for a few moments, being half asleep, but when they grasped the situation and saw the _clarion_ just ahead, they were as much interested as anybody. slowly, surely the sky-bird overtook the rival machine. when it seemed her nose was almost up to the tail of the _clarion_, they saw a movement in the bottom of the fuselage of the craft above them, where her trapdoor of glass was situated in the floor of the cabin. then something gray streaked down through the air. it went whizzing by just in front of the sky-bird, and a few moments later plunged into the sea with a great splash. "huckleberry pie!" ejaculated tom meeks, "one of their rocks has burst through their floor trap. say, that was a close call for us!" "watch out! here comes another!" cried paul, as a second gray missile went by them on the other side. barely had it struck the waters beneath, when a third rock came so close that they could feel the rush of air as it passed downward. it was as if they were being bombarded by an enemy above, who used great stones instead of explosives. their faces paled when the truth struck them like a thunderbolt. with calm deliberation, deadly intent, and a skill born of dropping bombs on targets during the war, some of the fellows in the machine above were trying to wreck the sky-bird with the rocks they had gathered in the field back in ceylon! "quick, bob!" cried john to their pilot. "swerve out from under these devils as fast as you can! if another stone comes down here, it may--" the words he intended to say never were uttered. at that very moment another gray object streaked its way down through the heavens, whirling uglily. they thought sure it would strike the cabin roof and crash through, and intuitively they cowered back in the corners for protection. but their speed carried the stone farther to the rear. there was a tearing, rending sound. their faces blanched. and then bob called out: "hi, fellows, something's gone wrong! the sky-bird's bound to put her nose into the sea. the tail elevators don't work!" chapter xxiv riding an airplane's tail filled with the gravest fears for the safety of the sky-bird and themselves, all except bob rushed to the rear windows of the cabin and looked out to see what had caused the ripping noise, and what could be wrong with the tail. paul reached a point of vantage first. one swift look showed him the trouble. the left elevator had a big hole through it, made by the stone, fragments of silk showing all round the ragged gap. but this could not have caused the derangement of the steering controls entirely, and looking for a reason, paul saw that the impact had caused the wire running to the right elevator to become twisted around a bracket near the end of the fuselage. under this condition neither elevator could be controlled. with the good one held downward, it was no wonder that the airplane had started a stubborn, slow dive toward the ocean in spite of bob's frantic efforts to work the lever normally effecting it. "shut off your engine!" called paul to bob. "that will hold us back. three minutes of time i think will save us!" with the words, paul seized the end of a long coil of rope which lay near, and fastened it about his waist. both bob and john saw what he meant to do. he would crawl out upon the fuselage and attempt to untangle the inactive control wire, freeing the now useless right elevating plane! it was a daring thing to do--a most perilous proceeding. but the older men knew that it was the only thing that could prevent them from plunging into the sea. so john threw open a window for his brother, the nimblest one of them, gave his hand a parting squeeze, and paul climbed through. paul never had realized as he did now how smooth that rounded body of the machine was, nor how strong the wind shot back along it when the machine was in flight. although he clutched it with both arms and legs, and lay as close to it as he could press, he thought two or three times, as he made his way out toward the tail, that he would be torn loose. he knew that his friends in the cabin, whom it might be he would never speak to again, were watching his progress with fear gripping their hearts, and were probably inwardly praying for his success with every breath. finally the boy reached the tail. he dare not look down at the sea to see how much closer they were now, for the sight might unnerve him and prove disastrous to his purpose. so, glazing his vision to all except his environs and intent, he wrapped his legs around the narrowing body of the machine, let go with his arms, and in a crouching posture seized the tangled wires. two or three tugs and he had them free. he announced this fact with as loud a yell as he could. immediately afterward he heard his brother's voice. "hang right there where you are, paul! don't try to come back until we get elevation again and i give you the word." he realized what this meant and looked down as he once more wrapped his arms around the fuselage, with his shoulders against the rudder bracket. what he saw was the restless sea less than two hundred feet below! had bob waited for him to attempt to crawl back into the cabin with the tail elevated, the sky-bird would have buried herself in the waters before he was half-way to his objective. they must now rise, if that were possible, to a good height; then bob would slowly spiral the airplane downward and afford him a declining surface to work back upon. luckily paul's freeing of the right elevating plane, gave the pilot fairly good control over the machine, so bob had no difficulty in bringing the sky-bird into a rising swoop, although none too soon. mounting at a good angle, but one which would not be likely to displace the youth clinging at the tail, he brought the airplane up to two thousand feet. "now, paul! slide for it!" cried john, as the machine began a slow descent in a great circle. paul then worked his way back like a crab, sliding a little, but not once allowing his tensioned limbs to relax to the danger point. before the airplane had come within five hundred feet of the sea, he felt his legs grasped in the strong hands of john and tom, and the next moment they had hauled him bodily through the window. "ginger, buddy, that was a close call for us--and you, too!" exclaimed john. "i hope i never see you in such a ticklish place again!" paul sank into a seat. he was too exhausted to do anything but smile. when at last he could find his voice he asked, anxiously: "can bob control her all right now?" "well enough to land us where we wish to go, he says," observed tom. "that's right," put in bob himself, who had overheard the conversation. "the sky-bird isn't what she was before that rock went through her, but if nothing worse happens we'll reach singapore, though it will probably be somewhat later than our sweet friends in the other plane." "we can land at sumatra, i think, if we have to make repairs before," ventured john. "we ought to cross the northern end of that island in the course of an hour." searching the horizon for their rivals, they saw that, evidently satisfied with the mischief they had done, the _clarion_ crew had gone on at full speed, for they were now far ahead. "if i ever run onto pete deveaux again i believe i shall be angry enough to choke him till he's unable to speak his own name," declared paul. "i'm afraid i'll have to help you at that job, paul," cried tom. "he's the most unprincipled scoundrel that ever went unhung." "you are right, tom; deveaux is a brute," said john. "his deviltry came near being the end of us. when we get home, we must see to it that he is punished as he deserves. but we must keep it out of the papers now, as it will look, in case we get beat, as if we wanted an excuse." john and tom now resumed their hammocks and broken sleep, for they saw that, although the shattered tail elevator caused the sky-bird to ride roughly and at reduced speed. bob and paul could probably handle her all right from now on. the cross winds of the monsoon also hindered their progress a good deal, blowing erratically from different directions, but they plugged along at a pace slow enough to keep themselves within the zone of safety. a little later they came in sight of sumatra, but as they were going fairly well, thought it best not to attempt a landing for repairs. so they crossed the northern tip of the island, and proceeded on over the strait of malacca. sometime since, paul had taken bob's place at the throttle, and the latter had communicated with their destination by wireless, learning that the other airplane had arrived. it was twilight when they at last reached singapore, and made a landing in the race-course in the outskirts of the town. by long odds this was the smallest island upon which they had so far stopped, but they found the city one of the busiest. their rivals had left fully two hours before. now came the task of repairing the broken tail elevator. as the frame was undamaged, it was only necessary to straighten out a few bent supports and put new covering on. the british official at the field showed them where to purchase the necessary silk and glue, also a good waterproof varnish for coating the covering. from his own home he secured a pair of scissors with which to do the cutting, and john and bob worked at the task, while paul and tom took on fuel and water and looked after other preparations for resuming their journey as soon as possible. during this process, grandpa the monkey was permitted to come out of the cabin and entertain the crowd of onlookers with his antics, which he did to perfection, as he had done at other stops. to the ivory ring about his slender little waist, paul always fastened a long thin rope, which he had bought in para, when he let grandpa out. this leash prevented him from wandering off, something nearly all unfettered monkeys will do if not watched very closely by their masters. almost any place seems to be home to a monkey, and almost any man seems to suit him for a temporary master. grandpa himself delighted in running out upon the wings of the sky-bird at the stops. he pulled the control wires and made the ailerons swing up and down, which always raised a laugh among the crowds. another favorite pastime with him was to post himself in front of the reflector of the big searchlight up on the cabin, and make the most comical grimaces at his image on the polished reflector inside, sometimes uttering queer noises as if he were crying, and at other times chattering with the utmost anger at the phantom monkey, mixing these demonstrations up with wild dashes around behind the lamp to see if the mimicking animal were there. no matter what language the natives of each port might speak, they never failed to understand and appreciate these little sideshow comedies of grandpa's. and when it would become noised about among them that this particular monkey had traveled all the way from south america through the air with the "bird-men," their awe for him was amusing to behold. chapter xxv engulfed in a volcano's dust with three hundred gallons of gasoline in her tanks, and her broken tail-elevator well repaired, the sky-bird was ready at eleven o'clock that evening to take off. her crew were all tired out, but they knew they would soon be able to occupy the comfortable seats or hammocks in the cabin for another long stretch of over-sea travel, for it would be morning before they would reach port darwin, australia, their next stop. it had been raining very hard in singapore just before they arrived, and the field was quite wet, with many puddles in the low spots. through one or two of these they had had to run in landing, and it seemed that in hopping off they would be forced to do so again. fortunately the ground was sandy, so they had come to a stop in a spot not at all muddy, and had thus been able to work upon the machine without the discomforts of wading in slime while doing it. they now started the engine, tom climbed in, and they were off, running over the soft ground at increasing speed. then the airplane struck a pool of water, five or six inches deep, which almost pulled them up. it also held them back so that when the machine emerged it was going very little faster than at the beginning. the next patch of ground was a little longer, but they had not risen when they struck it at a rate of about twenty-five miles an hour. this pool was also quite deep, and the sudden resistance almost threw the sky-bird onto her nose. it did cause her to dip so that her long propeller struck the puddle, and immediately water and sand were sucked up and thrown in almost every direction by the swiftly revolving blades. much of it reached the natives, who in two long rows of curious humanity, formed a lane for the passage of the craft, and many a poor fellow gave a howl and fell back against those behind, spluttering and rubbing grit and water from his face, while rivulets coursed down his dusky body amid the howls of laughter of his mates. the flyers had only a fleeting glimpse of this amusing incident before they found the front windows of the cabin so covered with the deluge of spray that they could scarcely see ahead. two of them quickly opened the portals, for a grave danger menaced them. less than sixty yards ahead was the lower fence of the field, and just back of this arose scrub trees and houses, with no opening between which could be utilized. they must clear these formidable obstacles, looming bigger every second, and the distance was alarmingly short, for the last pool had again retarded their momentum to such an extent that they had just barely staggered through it. picking up speed once more at every turn of her propeller, the sky-bird shot down the last stretch of ground reaching to the fence. how fast this obstruction loomed up! just in the nick of time the airplane left the ground. they sailed over the tops of trees and houses so close that the wheels of their landing-gear almost scraped. it was one of the finest maneuvers of the whole voyage, and the boys praised john so for his good piloting that he had to ask them to desist. after a wide sweep above singapore, they headed for the open water, which in this case happened to be south china sea. the weather was very threatening. dark-looking clouds began to efface the moon and stars, whose light had aided in the take-off at singapore, and within fifteen minutes occasional flashes of sheet-lightning could be seen far ahead, throwing into relief the immense bulk of the foreboding clouds and shedding a pallid gleam over the sea. occasionally a light zephyr came out of the east, but it would last only a moment. "we ought to be just about over the equator now," announced john a little later. paul and bob had stayed up on purpose to witness this event, and by dead reckoning had computed their position so closely that john's announcement had come just as they were about to make a similar statement. although they could see no "line" stretching along down there in the sea, they fancied they could, with the most pleasant imagery. that great line, the belt of the universe, dividing the northern and southern hemispheres, they had already crossed once, in their zigzagging course, at the mouth of the amazon. now here in the south china sea they were crossing it a second time. at no time had they been more than thirteen degrees away from it. one more crossing of it, if all went well, and they would be almost within sight of the end of their journey--panama! with this pleasant thought bob and paul rolled up in their hammocks, trusting john and tom to bring them safely through the bad weather that seemed in store, and were soon asleep. to the two older flyers, used to all conditions of aerial passage as a result of several years' experience, the present conditions were not at all terrifying. although the spectacle of the dark clouds in front of them was extremely uncanny, they realized that they were only local thunder showers which could probably be avoided by a little careful navigating. in this they were right. by wheeling a little out of their course, to the left or right, and by flying up over one big cloud which could not be avoided in any other manner, they managed to dodge the most dangerous fields of lightning and the worst torrents of rain. presently they left the dark clouds far behind, and once more the stars appeared in the blue firmament above and the pale moon lit up the tropical sea. with relief john guided the sky-bird lower, so that they could keep a sharp lookout for guide-posts of land. they passed several small islets which were uncharted with them, but when, about midnight, they made out a great black blotch not far ahead, they recognized it as the southern end of the island of borneo, and knew they were all right. in a little while borneo was sweeping along below them, its mangroved shores gloomy and desolate-looking, not to say weird, in the pale moonlight. among those dense forests and thickets the flyers knew many a wild animal was prowling at that very moment, and in the thatched huts in the glens slept many a fierce-visaged savage with weapons close at hand. toward morning the flyers observed a volcano in active eruption off to the southeastward, apparently on the island of timor. it was a beautiful sight, so wonderful that john awoke the sleepers, that they too might enjoy it. fantastic lights of various colors shot upward from the crater. these shafts lit up billowing clouds of smoke and ashes, which poured out in awe-inspiring volume. back of it all stood the dark-blue velvet sky, against which the pyrotechnics were embossed in a stunning manner. man could never have wished to witness a more remarkable manifestation of nature than did the young aviators, as they viewed the spectacle from their own favored position in the air. swiftly the sky-bird drew them toward the volcano, for it was directly in their course. as they approached, they could see flames licking their way upward from the dark mass of rock constituting the shaft, and could make out streams of lava pouring over the sides of the crater, going down into the unknown blackness below. what a sight it was! how their pulses beat! how their hearts quickened! but now, very unexpectedly, the sight was shut out. thin, pungent, volcanic smoke and ash began to surround them. in a few moments it was so thick that they grew alarmed. all had the same fearful thought-- if this should continue a little while, they would lose their bearings, and might run right into the fountain of fire itself! this was a terrifying possibility, for it would mean a horrible death to every one of them. fireproof though the airplane was in the general sense of the word, every one of those in her cabin knew that if they should ever pass through those licking flames, the great heat in them would fairly melt the light structure of the machine in the twinkling of an eye. no metal or wood could withstand that terrible blast a moment, much less human flesh. it is small wonder, therefore, that tom now sent the sky-bird off to the right, and higher, also. they closed the windows, to keep out the foul smells, and anxiously awaited developments. they could not see a yard in front of them, so thick were the smoke and gases. it was a trying time. fortunately tom had taken the best course he could. five minutes passed--ten minutes--fifteen--and then the air began to clear. slowly the curtain lifted; and presently looking back, they saw that they had passed the volcano and were leaving it and the island well behind. its fires, too, seemed to be burning out. only a few forks of ghostly light were coming up from the crater. these grew fainter and fainter, and in a little while the eruption seemed to have entirely subsided, for timor was swallowed up once more in the impenetrable mantle of night. chapter xxvi in australia shortly after five o'clock the next afternoon, paul saw ahead and to port what appeared to be haze, but which he and tom hoped was the coastline of australia. ten minutes later the observer joyfully pointed out to the pilot unmistakable evidence of an island upon which stood a tall object--bathurst island lighthouse. john and tom were routed out, and all saw the rugged outline of the great island--a continent itself, as large as the united states and much the same shape--stretching away to the southward and slowly dwindling into low, sandy, barren shores as it went. less than forty minutes later they were circling over port darwin, on the northwest corner of the continent, while a good-sized crowd of people down below pointed excitedly upward. the flyers soon made out the landing-field by reason of its white marker, and swooped gracefully down, while those below cheered. two zealous customs officials were anxious to examine the new arrivals, also a health officer; but this did not take long, and during the process they were able to converse pleasantly with mr. seth partlow, the british official in charge of the field, also with the mayor of darwin, who gave them the most cordial welcome. they were sorry to learn that pete deveaux and his flyers had departed less than a half-hour before their own arrival; but they had been expecting such a report owing to the fact that they had been left so far behind at singapore. they now determined to hurry up refitting operations, and leave at the first opportunity, hot upon the trail. messages were dispatched to mr. giddings at panama and to his newspaper in new york; and another roll of films containing numerous interesting views taken that morning just before and after landing, were mailed in to the _daily independent_. here, for the first time, they were able to secure a paper containing accounts of their own and their rival's passage. it was a novel experience to read these glowing descriptions of incidents still fresh in their minds--descriptions which had in some cases flown by wire, in others by air-waves, from point to point, more than half-way around the world. it provoked thoughts which made them marvel at the wonderful ingenuity and power of the very equipment which they were using themselves every chance they could get--their wireless telegraph and telephone sets. the remarkable news-gathering efficiency of the world, the coordination of agencies in gathering and disseminating news, was astounding to contemplate. the mayor of the town insisted upon the boys partaking of dinner at his home near by, and they thankfully agreed to do this when mr. partlow declared he would personally see to the filling of the sky-bird's tanks, for which task he had plenty of assistants. they were most cordially received by the mayor's wife. within fifteen minutes they had the satisfaction of sitting down to one of the most satisfying meals they had ever had. not only was everything well cooked, but there was a great variety of viands. they were all particularly impressed with the toothsomeness of the meat which the maid served, so much so that paul could not refrain from remarking: "mr. bailey, i never ate sweeter chicken than that." "no, i don't believe you ever did," laughed the mayor. "the fact is, young man, that is not domestic chicken at all. it is the flesh of the brush-turkey, a wild fowl which the bushmen or blackfellows bring in here to market. it is a great delicacy." "i have read of these bushmen," said bob. "are they quite wild?" "indeed they are," the mayor replied. "the blackfellow is, i believe, on the lowest rung of civilization. he is unlike the negro, the malay, the mongolian, and the american indian, in many ways. if you could stay a few days, i would be glad to take you back in the bush and show you a few specimens in their native state. they have a long skull, with a low, flat forehead, their brows overhang deep-set, keen eyes, and they have a heavy lower jaw, with teeth as strong as a dog's. their hair is generally wavy or curly, being usually auburn or black in color. as a rule their faces are almost hidden by beards and whiskers, which they never comb and which, like the hair on top of their heads, are always in a beautiful tangle." "how do they dress, sir?" asked paul. this brought another laugh from mr. bailey. "that doesn't worry them in the least!" he declared. "most bushmen are covered from head to foot with hair, and i imagine they think this is a good enough uniform, for they wear nothing except what nature gave them. in bad weather, however, they do add some artificial protection to their tough bodies by making a rough wrap out of the skin of a kangaroo or a piece of flexible bark. some tribes use rushes and seaweed for this purpose, while others make a blanket from the dried frog scum of the swamps and ponds. for boats, pieces of eucalyptus bark, folded and tied at the ends and daubed with clay, suit them very well. they are too lazy to dig out the trunk of a tree for a canoe, like the natives of most other countries." "do these blackfellows live in huts?" asked john. "that's where their laziness manifests itself again," said the mayor, smiling. "the blackfellow has no permanent dwelling. his shelter is a cave or overhanging rock, as an animal might select one; sometimes it is only a large section of bark which he tears from a tree, and under which he walks or squats in storms or lies at night." "back in the states," remarked tom, "we hear much about the skill of these fellows with the boomerang. i dare say a lot of these stories are overdone." "possibly," said their host, "and yet it is a fact that these natives are undoubtedly more adept at casting various forms of wooden implements than any other people in the world. their very indolence leads them to adopt all sorts of easy-made weapons, and wood is surely one of the most common materials for the purpose one could find. clubs of all kinds are hurled at prey or human enemies. among these the boomerang is a favorite. they have several forms. one type is very light, round on one side and flat on the other, and slightly twisted on its axis. it is used almost entirely for play, though sometimes to hurl at flocks of birds in the sky. the war and hunting boomerangs are much heavier; they are bent differently, and do not return to the thrower, but are a deadly weapon in the hands of these bushmen at ranges up to four hundred feet. but stone-pointed spears are their chief weapons." "with this skill i presume they have no trouble in securing enough to eat," suggested paul, sipping his cocoa. "on the contrary, there are times when weather conditions, such as drouth, make it a very difficult matter for some tribes to get sufficient food. then they will turn to human flesh, and will eat men who have fallen to their weapons, or their own tribesmen who have succumbed to disease or hunger. even infants are sometimes killed and eaten by their parents." "horrible!" cried the flyers. this seemed almost incredible, with civilization in abundance so near. "i agree with you," said mr. bailey, failing to notice his wife holding up a protesting finger toward him. "of course the blackfellow prefers to have other foods when he can get them. the kangaroo, wallaby, and opossum, form his chief food supply, but no animal or nourishing plant is neglected. he even eats ants, caterpillars, moths, beetles, grubs, snakes, lizards, often uncooked----" at that point mr. bailey felt a sharp twist of his ear, and looking up, found his wife gazing at him with a very severe expression. "thomas bailey! you are a cannibal yourself! where is your sense of propriety? have you lost your head in your interest in this subject? don't you know you are _eating_?--that you have guests here who are also _eating_?" "my! my! goodness gracious!" ejaculated their host, in a great fuss. "young men, i was not thinking. will you ever pardon me for this transgression of etiquette?" the flyers smilingly hastened to assure both their friends that they had not lost their appetites in the least; that they really had enjoyed every morsel of food and information passed out. they remained to chat long enough to convince the lady and gentleman of this fact, and then took their departure. they had actually spent a most entertaining hour, one which they would not have missed for a good deal. at eight-fifty local time the sky-bird took off for her long hop to apia, principal city of upolu, an island of the samoan group. it was the beginning of their long flight across the big pacific, an ocean so wide, so fraught with perils, that no aircraft had ever before attempted to negotiate it. some eight thousand miles away over those great waters lay panama, their goal. would they reach it ahead of their rivals? would they reach it within their schedule of ten days? to these two queries in their minds, our stout-hearted, young friends answered doggedly and determinedly, "yes!" fortune might frown upon them, it is true; but if so they would face her smilingly, with confidence, with that pertinacity for which americans are famous, and try to make her look pleasant, too! they felt that they must win; that they would win. and yet they left port darwin handicapped by being fully three hours behind their rivals. as they wheeled over the town they waved a last farewell to the hundreds below, whose forms they could just make out in the fast-gathering darkness. then, turning off straight east, they flew over the dark-green canopy of eucalyptus forests of fertile arnhem land, and crossed the gulf of carpentaria in the full darkness of the night. when they passed over cape york peninsula, tom was at the throttle, and the younger boys had been asleep for a number of hours. they had now left the whole continent of australia behind them, and were facing the broad wastes of the pacific. their perils had begun in earnest. should anything happen to cause them to be forced down, there was nothing but a vast basin of water miles deep to catch them, and there would not be one chance in a thousand that they would survive. this, surely, was no place and no time for engines to fail or steering apparatus to go wrong. yet each flyer was ready for such a mishap--attested by the mute evidence of an inflated rubber tube about his waist. even bob and paul slumbered on the airy contrivances. fortunately the weather was ideal. it is true that headwinds blew mildly and insistently, causing some bumpiness, but the night was calm and starry, and with the engine running close to full-out, they saw that they were making up lost time very fast. when morning broke, and paul took the throttle, fair skies looked down upon their skimming bird, and the sea was bathed in brilliant sunshine. bob wirelessed sydney their position about noon. he made no attempt to get apia, because he knew there was no telegraph or radio station there. flying low, early in the afternoon they passed close enough to the vanikord islands to see hordes of natives watching them from the coral shores. numerous smaller islets, gems set in the ultramarine blue of the sea, were also passed within the next hour. gulls, ospreys, and other swift-winged seabirds sailed about these pretty outcroppings of the mighty deep, and sometimes the creatures came after the sky-bird with shrill cries of challenge, only to be quickly left behind. once more the shades of night fell, and once more john took the destinies of the airplane in hand. for a time bob and paul worked on reports, then played with grandpa, who in such tedious spells of flying as this was a never-ending source of entertainment to all. nine o'clock found them in their hammocks, hoping that when they opened their eyes again it would be to see the welcome shores of their destination. nor in this hope were they to be disappointed. it seemed they had no sooner fallen asleep than they were aroused by a hand shaking them and the voice of john saying: "come on, you sleepy-heads! rout out here and have a look at what's ahead!" having their clothes still on--so that they might be ready for an emergency at any time of the night--the two chums were up to the windows about as soon as john himself. the latter had raised two of these a short time before, and the boys shoved their heads through to take a look. it was broad day. light, fleecy clouds covered the heavens to the southeast, but in the blue between a huge rift the sun shone down benignly. and in its bright rays they could count nine islands and islets, sprinkled here and there like emeralds in a sparkling sheet of mother-of-pearl. it needed only a glance at the chart to tell them that these were the samoan group, and a little searching also told them that the nearest large one was upolu. in less than another hour they were circling above the beautiful island of their choice, directly over the little town of apia, which nestled in the center of a luxuriant forest of palms and other tropical trees. a number of boats and sailing vessels were in the harbor, and on board these as well as on the ground hundreds of people were looking up aloft and waving a welcome. now our flyers saw what they really were most concerned about--a t made of white stones in an open spot by the beach. and in that field they also saw something else they were very glad to witness. this was the airplane of their rivals. they had caught up with them at last! chapter xxvii paul versus pete there was a wild scamper of natives as our flyers came down upon the smooth, hard sands of the beach. in this operation they had to use the utmost care to avoid striking the machine of their contemporaries, but it was accomplished without mishap, and the sky-bird came to a stop about seventy feet from the _clarion_. they were immediately surrounded, at a very respectable distance, by a cordon of samoans. these were splendid-looking fellows. their dusky bodies were strong and stalwart, and their faces were intelligent-looking. it was plain to be seen that they had not the slightest hostile intentions toward the aviators. on the contrary their features expressed clear friendliness, although it was obvious that their experience with the _clarion_ was still too fresh to eradicate their natural timidity of such a strange thing as an airplane. our friends were very stiff and cramped from their long ride from port darwin. it seemed so good now to be able to stretch their limbs, to feel solid ground once more under their feet, and to see the blue sky all around their heads! the morning was hot, but a cool breeze blew inshore, giving a delightful freshness to the air. near at hand were rows of native huts, made of poles and bark, and back of these loomed fine groves of cocoanut trees and other tropical vegetation in the richest profusion. even the elevations of this volcanic island had their barrenness alleviated by growths of greenery which seemed entirely to cover them. no sooner had the boys sprung out of the machine than three white men approached them. these introduced themselves as mr. plusson, in charge of the local mission; mr. hart, a british trader; and mr. shoreman, the american trader who had been engaged to look after their fuel at this airport. these gentlemen expressed the liveliest cordiality in their welcome, and mr. plusson plead so hard for them to accompany him to his home and join him and his wife at breakfast that they consented. they learned that their rivals had arrived about twenty minutes before. ever since the dastardly attempt of pete deveaux and his crowd to wreck the sky-bird in the indian ocean, our flyers had been greatly incensed at them, or rather at pete deveaux himself, for they had no doubt but that it was he who had instigated the attack. paul ross was particularly inflamed at the french aviator's act, and had more than once declared since, that the first time they met deveaux again he was going to thrash him until he begged for mercy. this was rather a bold statement for paul to make, since he was but a youth of eighteen while pete deveaux must have been close to thirty; but the lad was strong and skillful with his fists, in addition to which his resentment was just. when justice is on one's side it goes a long way toward giving that person staying powers in any contest against wrong. for these reasons, when paul now declared that he could not bear to wait another minute before taking pete deveaux to account, his chums made no attempt to dissuade him, except in the matter of time. john pulled him aside, so that explanations would not have to be made to their new acquaintances, and asked him to defer the matter until after they should have had breakfast, to which paul reluctantly agreed. when they once more reached the field, it was to see their rivals also just arriving. without further ado, paul walked straight up to pete deveaux and said; "deveaux, why did you drop those rocks down on us back there when we were overhauling you between colombo and singapore?" the frenchman's face paled visibly. he did not like the look in paul's eye, nor the stern countenances of his friends. but he hoped to bluff his way through. "why accuse me of anything like this?" said he, trying to look surprised and hurt. "we had nothing to do with those stones falling. their weight broke the catch off of the glass trap, and they went through before we could stop them; didn't they, guys?" he turned to his three flyers for support. crossman, torrey, and lane nodded their heads. "sure," averred crossman. "what did you have those stones on board for?" demanded john. the _clarion_ men were silent. their leader was the first to reply. "we got some kola nuts from the natives at one of our stops, and wanted the stones to crack them with," stated deveaux. "it's a lie!" accused paul. "stones do not accidentally fall as straight as those did. pete deveaux, you and your crowd did the best you could to wreck us, and i'm going to take it out of your hide right now!" "oh, you are, are you?" sneered the french aviator. "it seems to me i'll have something to say about that, you young whippersnapper! if these friends of yours will keep out of this, i'll promise my boys will keep out, and i'll give you all the show you want." "fair play; that's right!" cried mr. shoreman, stepping forward. he had heard enough to convince him that nothing but a fistic settlement of the controversy would be adequate, and, with the help of several white traders and sailors, he formed a ring. like lightning the word went out, and scores of natives came running up to see the encounter. an affair of this kind just suited their primitive instincts; it was even a greater treat than seeing an airplane land upon their fair island. so by the time that paul and pete deveaux had thrown off their coats, a great ring of natives surrounded them, and in its front were numerous whites from the ships in the harbor. pete deveaux was inwardly very nervous, although he was careful not to show it. had paul not been so much younger, deveaux would probably have made some excuse to back out of the fight. as it was, he had a sneaking hope of getting the better of paul, now that the youth's friends had agreed not to interfere. he also hoped to injure the boy so badly in the encounter that he could not take his turn operating the sky-bird for the rest of the journey; at least, cripple him enough to delay his party in getting away from the island. with these evil intents the french flyer conceived still another. he stepped aside and whispered something in chuck crossman's ear, then came back and faced paul. mr. shoreman gave the signal, and pete deveaux feinted and shot his other fist savagely at paul's eye. but the boy was wary, dodged the blow, and struck his adversary a hard one in the chest. for a moment deveaux was staggered; but he quickly recovered, and once more sprang forward. missing with his right, he succeeded in hitting paul in the shoulder with his left. wheeling like a flash, paul shot out a fist before the frenchman could recover his guard, and struck him a smash under the ear which sent him reeling back into his friends. pete deveaux was now thoroughly alarmed. he had not expected such science, nor such force, on the part of his opponent. he approached paul with much more caution, amid the howls of the natives, and decided to let him take the offensive. paul was willing. encouraged by his success thus far, and bent upon ending the fracas as soon as possible, he met his adversary with a heavy swing which just cleared the man's ear. deveaux struck, but missed also. pressed backward, he clinched to save himself, and in this position, where nobody could see his movements, he viciously tried to put some short jabs into paul's abdomen. fortunately for himself paul succeeded in breaking away before he was doubled up by the blows, one of which had landed with sufficient power to make him utter an involuntary smothered exclamation of pain. "no more of that, mr. deveaux!" warned the referee suspiciously, as paul shoved his opponent back. "keep out of the clinches! fight fair!" "fair! fair!" yelled the sailors; and the natives took up the cry in their own language. paul now advanced, and pete deveaux retreated. the latter was really frightened. something was beginning to tell him that in this youth of eighteen he had met his superior. "i think we'd better quit, ross, before we hurt each other," suggested the french flyer cravenly. "this flight business of ours won't stand such delays as this. we can have this out when we land in panama." "no, we can't have it out in panama!" cried paul. "stand up if you're a man and settle this thing right now. watch out; i'm coming!" by this time pete deveaux had retreated to the lower end of the improvised ring. he saw that he was cornered; that he must fight once more. lunging forward like a trapped rat, he struck a wicked blow for his opponent's head. paul parried it, and as swift as a stroke of lightning his right hand streaked out and caught deveaux under the jaw. the frenchman reeled backward a few steps, and toppled over, full length upon the ground. what a cry went up from the onlookers! by this time the sympathies of every one, except deveaux's own comrades, were with the youth. no one, even a half-civilized savage, at heart likes a coward. for a few moments pete deveaux was dazed. but after his cronies had helped him to his feet, and started away with him, he still had enough spite left to shout back, as he shook a fist: "we're not done with you fellows yet!" paul was now the recipient of congratulations from all sides. everybody wished to slap him on the shoulder or shake hands with him, it seemed, and the native populace gave him so many cocoanuts, bananas, and pineapples that he was literally hemmed in with fruit, and john, bob, and tom had to open up a pathway before he could get out of his sweet-smelling barricade. our flyers put as much of the gifts in the cabin of the sky-bird as they could find room for, including an abundance of nuts for the happy grandpa, and then they turned their attention to the pressing business of overhauling the engines and storing fuel. while they were thus engaged, the _clarion's_ motor was heard to start; and a few moments later she arose and took off to sea. "humph!" ejaculated tom, "those fellows have beat us to it again." "they ought to; didn't they arrive ahead of us?" asked tom. "we'll be out of here in fifteen minutes more," stated john. but the words were no more than out of his mouth when paul, who had been inspecting the rear end of the machine came dashing excitedly forward, crying: "fellows, hob is to pay! those rascals have cut the wire braces that support the tail-skid, and it's lopping away over!" chapter xxviii a mix-up in dates paul's announcement threw his friends into a state of consternation. as they viewed the wire braces, neatly cut with a pair of nippers, they recalled pete deveaux's act of whispering in the ear of one of his party just preceding the recent fight, and realized now its full import. this fellow had slunk out of the crowd, slipped over to the unguarded airplane, and performed the unprincipled trick without any risk of being caught at it. since there was no chance for immediate redress from the guilty party, who were almost out of sight to the eastward, all our flyers could do was to bend every effort to make repairs as fast as possible. after considerable skirmishing around, they managed to secure some wire from one of the vessels in the harbor. the severed strands were then removed and new pieces cut to length. it was found that the weight of the machine upon the unsupported skid, had cracked the skid past repair; so they had to whittle out another from some tough wood, which the natives brought them from the nearby forest, before they could connect the new wires and were ready to start. finally they took off at a few minutes past noon, more than three hours behind their rivals. it was disheartening, to say the least--all the more so on account of the fact that their delay had again been caused by the sinister acts of the other crew. they made up their minds that if they should meet pete deveaux and his crowd at another stop, something worse than a single fistic encounter would take place! as they soared away toward nukahiva, with upolu growing constantly dimmer, john, who had been studying the schedule, turned to his companions and asked: "do any of you fellows know what date this is?" "let's see," mused bob, at the throttle; "we left port darwin the evening of the th; the evening of the th we were still at sea, and the next morning--the th--" "you're ahead of time just one day," laughed john. "this is the th of the month." "how do you make that out?" asked bob. "didn't we leave port darwin on the th?" "yes," admitted john. "and the following evening we were at sea?' "granted. that was last evening--the th." "then any dunce can see that to-day is the th," said bob witheringly. "that's what i say, too," supported paul. but john only laughed harder, and this time tom joined him. "john's right," said tom; "to-day is the th." "it _can't_ be," protested bob. "you own up that yesterday was the th, don't you?" "i certainly do," chuckled john; "but you forget one thing, young man: that same evening, all in a moment's time, we crossed the one hundred and eightieth meridian--the date-line of the world--and while it was thursday, the th on the west side of this line, it became wednesday, the th the instant we crossed over to the east side." "oh, sure!" exclaimed bob and paul, feeling very silly. and the latter added: "that's where we gain a day in our lives--and to think that bob and i were asleep at that auspicious moment!" "i know an old maid who swears she is fifteen years younger than she really looks," commented tom. "i think she must have done a lot of globe trotting, and always east!" "there's no danger of the fair sex ever circling the globe in a westerly direction," laughed john, "for that would make them one day older every time." the day could not have been better. hardly a cloud was to be seen on the horizon, and the regular trade-winds blowing westward were soft and steady, and they were making excellent time. grandpa frisked about, perching on this object and that, and occasionally running back into some secret nook where he had hidden his supply of nuts. with one of these in his paw he would jump up on something, crack it in his powerful small jaws, and look very wise and serious as he picked out the meats with his slim fingers. finally the monkey had his fill, and hopped up into tom's lap. he began to play with tom's hair, smoothing it down pretty soon with the flyer's comb, which he discovered in a pocket. so handy was grandpa with this utensil that the others went into peals of laughter. tiring of this, the monkey's eye caught sight of several freckles upon the back of tom's hand. he tried in vain to pick the freckles off; then he became excited, for he could not understand why they would not lift up. he chattered scoldingly at everybody; then tried again. failing, he sprang down and went to a far corner, in a fine sulk. evidently he thought tom was playing a trick on him, and had glued the freckles down someway just to tease him; for tom, it must be admitted, was greatly given to bothering grandpa in some such manner. shortly before ten o'clock the following morning all hands were up to take a look at their next stopping-off place--nukahiva, the main island of the marquesas group, the place where they hoped to find a supply of helium-gas awaiting them. a fine island this--as fine a volcanic upheaval as one will find anywhere. sheer walls of cloud-capped rock , feet high, some literally overhanging the crystal-clear water, and all embossed and engraved with strangely patterned basalt. there are pillars, battlements, and turrets; so that, with half-closed eyes, it seems you are approaching a temple, a medieval castle, or a mosque of the east. and the valleys--deep, choked with the most rampant growths of luxuriant vegetation, in the heart of which silvery streams gurgle their way tortuously along--fade away into mysterious purple mists. small wonder that this gorgeously beautiful island should have been the home for a century of one of the finest races of primitive people the world has ever known! sad indeed is it that to-day the marquesans are rapidly dying off from consumption and fever introduced into their fair domain by civilization itself. nestling in a good-sized valley near the harbor our flyers saw scores of native houses, as they drew nearer. these were constructed of yellow bamboo, tastefully twisted together in a kind of wickerwork, and thatched with the long tapering leaves of the palmetto. here, too, was the big white t of their hopes. in a short time they had safely landed, one hour behind schedule. their rivals had left an hour and ten minutes before. but joy of joys! here were four tanks of helium, and with a filling of this they would show those fellows how to fly! as fast as they could work, our friends overhauled their machine and put it in shape for the long trip to san christobal. they would have given almost anything to have joined the many natives they saw swimming in the cool waters of the harbor, but felt that they could not afford to waste a single minute. at twelve-thirty, with the sun at its zenith, they once more took to the air. this was thursday. by friday evening they should be at the gallapagos islands--their last stop before panama. what a cheering thought it was! heading just a trifle north of east, they ran almost full-out. it was easy to note the difference in the behavior of the sky-bird since her helium tanks had been fully charged. she sped along as she had in the very beginning of their journey--like a long bullet fired from some gigantic cannon. how the engine did sing! the wind rushed by them like a hurricane, and they had to shout in order to be heard when they had anything to say to each other. satisfied that all was going right, tom and john soon turned in, for they were very sleepy. when the operating crew awoke them it was dark. bob then got into wireless communication with panama, and delivered a message for mr. giddings. following this, he and paul also took to the hammocks. when the two youths awoke it was morning, and the sky-bird was not behaving as well as when they had retired. looking outside they saw the reason for this. the entire heavens ahead were hidden under dun-colored clouds which in places seemed to be gathering themselves together into formidable leaden arrangement. the gentle trade-winds had developed into a stiff wind. down below, the sea was covered with whitecaps, while in the distance the water was swinging into immense swells with foaming crests. john and tom both looked worried. the two younger boys felt more uneasy when they noticed this. "i guess we're in for a pretty hard storm," said john, as he gave the throttle up to paul. "tom and i will stay up a while and see how things turn out. the sky-bird's down to about a hundred an hour now. better keep her there, buddy. that's fast enough in a blow like this." a few minutes later a fork of lightning split the sky ahead. this was followed by another off to the right, then by one off to the left. then they heard the rumble of thunder, and a heavy gray haze slowly began to engulf the sea, rapidly approaching. "that's rain," cried paul. "say, john, if you're not too done out maybe you had better take the stick again; i'm afraid i won't be equal to what's coming." his brother complied. john did not wish to frighten his comrades, but the truth is he knew this would be the worst storm he had ever faced in his four years of flying. "we'll try to get above those clouds," he said quietly. he did not like to tell them just what he thought--that if they did not get above the clouds without delay they would either be struck by lightning or torn to pieces by the terrible whirlpool of winds which he knew those churning black masses ahead contained. chapter xxix a flying rescue john turned the sky-bird upward at as stiff a slant as he felt would be safe for them in that high wind. at nine thousand feet they emerged above the first layer; but eastward the clouds appeared to terrace up gradually, and in the distance there extended another great wall, towering several thousand feet higher. some of the rain was now beginning to reach them. it came pattering down upon the roof; and under the strong impulse of wind and their speed, it struck the glass windows in front with a smack like buckshot. the moisture on the panes made it difficult to see out. "take a reading with the anemometer, tom," ordered john, straining his eyes hard ahead. this little instrument was something like a miniature windmill. its four wings were supplied with cups which, as tom held the instrument out of the window facing the wind, caused the spider to revolve. the latter was geared to a small dial, over the face of which passed a hand, much like a clock, indicating the speed of the wind. "she's blowing fifty miles an hour, and gaining every minute," announced tom. "that's the hardest wind we've been in yet." "if we stay down here it will be blowing sixty within ten minutes," was the pilot's grim response. just then there was a blinding flash of light a little way ahead of them, accompanied by such a terrific crash of thunder that their ears rang. "gee!" cried bob, "that was a close call! i'll bet that bolt came within a rod of striking us." "a miss is as good as a mile," shouted john cheerfully. he and the others found that they would have to yell in order to be heard, so great was the noise from engine and storm. _zip!_ went a zigzagging livid streak across their range of vision. it seemed to be running straight for them, and instinctively they dodged--all but tom and john. these old veterans continued to gaze coolly straight ahead as though nothing had happened. _crash-h!_ went a clap of thunder. it seemed as if the whole heavens were being turned topsy-turvy. even the airplane, usually so steady, heaved and rode like a rocking-horse. the two younger members of the party were not to be blamed for feeling pretty well frightened by this time. it was one thing to be cutting through the fleecy white clouds of a calm day, and quite another to go stabbing through murky black ones which were rolling angrily, ejecting both wind and rain, and spitting out vicious roars and jagged streaks of pale-blue flame. one moment they would be in gloom; the next instant a cloud would be rent asunder with a ripping, tearing sound, and the whole turbid, boiling sky-universe would be bathed in the ghostly light. what a weird, fantastic, chaotic world they were in! but it was only for a few minutes that they were in the worst danger. soon, to their infinite relief, they had reached their "ceiling." they were now , feet up--almost three miles,--and below them lay the vast sea of troubled cloudland, dark and forbidding, rolling tumultuously like an ocean of curdled ink. it was a novel experience to be running in the clear air over all of this infernality of sounds and sights, while above them the blue, star-studded heavens looked down upon them calmly and peaceably. for almost an hour the furious storm continued in the lower regions. then it began slowly to subside. first the lightning stopped, then the thunder. the banks of clouds took on a lighter hue, and began to drift apart; a pinnacle here and a crag there were swept off by the winds, until the masses of nimbus became flattened out into patches of sun-flecked foam as beautiful as fresh-fallen snow. the anemometer spun slower and slower as the gale decreased in violence, and presently the airplane was gliding along with its normal smoothness. here and there, between the patches of white cloud, they caught glimpses of the ultramarine sea, thousands of feet below them. it was so cold up here, even with the windows closed, that all the boys were shivering in their warmest wraps. the air, too, was so rarefied that it was with considerable difficulty that they could breathe, for they had been in it for some time. not one flyer in a hundred can live at an altitude of twenty thousand feet, as he bleeds at the nose and mouth; and our aviators were up to within five thousand feet of that height. it was now time to descend. john shut off both engines, and they began to volplane down in a great stillness, sailing like an immense hawk. lower and lower they went--fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten thousand feet. now they were gliding through clear, thin air; now cutting a hole through a heavy cloud so impregnated with moisture that it sweat over the glass and the boys would have to wipe a sleeve across hastily to improve the vision. eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two! that was low enough. all this time the propeller had been spinning from the rush of air alone. now john threw in the clutch; the revolving propeller shaft grabbed the crankshaft of the engine, and once more it began its rhythmic purr. just a little upthrust of the tail-elevators and ailerons brought them again into the horizontal in a huge swoop. nothing could have been prettier. they had escaped the terrible tornado, leaving it still galloping westward far behind them, and were once more in normal position for continuing their flight toward the goal! below them, for miles around, they could once more see the ocean uninterruptedly. its mountainous waves and deep gorges of a short time previous had probably swallowed up many an unlucky ship that morning; but its temper was expended, and all it could do now was to sulk in long, even billows which every moment became flatter and flatter. how had their rivals fared? this question was in the minds of every one of our flyers as the sky-bird continued swiftly on her course. in their hearts was a vague feeling that perhaps pete deveaux and his crowd might not have come out of the storm as lucky as they, for not one airplane out of a score could have outlived it. their own escape had been almost miraculous. but for the good generalship of john they surely would have met with mishap. so now, as they went along, a sharp lookout was not only kept for their rivals in the sky ahead, but anxious looks were cast over the expanse of white-capped waters. calculations told them that by this time the other airplane could not be far ahead. less than ten minutes later, tom espied a small object far away on their port quarter. it was bobbing about on the waves, rising and falling. bob seized a pair of glasses, and took a long look. he turned around with his face full of excitement. "heavens, fellows!" he cried; "that object looks like an airplane!" all took a look. then they, too, were excited, there could be no doubt about it--the object was a wrecked airplane. and as it was extremely unlikely that there were other machines in the vicinity than their own and that of their adversaries', they were quite sure that it must be the remains of the _clarion_. john turned the sky-bird in the direction of the floating thing, and soon they saw what seemed to be the form of a human being clinging to one of the wings. john threw in both engines in an effort to get all possible speed out of the craft. in a little while they were close enough to see that the wreck was really the _clarion_. but what a sad-looking sight was the former handsome craft! her tail had been wrenched off, and only half of one of her long wings could be seen. out upon the other, on hands and knees, clinging desperately to the aileron brace, was the hatless, water-soaked figure of a man. as they came closer still they could see him waving his hand frantically at them. with a glass, paul saw that this person was oliver torrey. anxiously his eyes roved over the wreck in quest of other survivors, but none could he discern. irony of fate! had all of the others been drowned? john brought the sky-bird down to within seventy-five feet of the sea as they approached. tom seized the speaking trumpet, and as they swept over the _clarion_ he bawled out: "hang on, torrey! we'll stand by, and save you if we can!" but they were facing a herculean task, and realized it. they could not light upon the water. nor could they stop in midair. how in the world could they effect the hapless flyer's rescue? john circled at reduced speed while all of their minds were busy trying to work out the problem. in the meantime torrey's frantic pleadings for them not to go away and leave him to his fate filled their ears. it was a trying, nerve-racking situation. bob giddings struck upon the first idea. "why can't we trail a rope for him to catch?" he asked. "he's probably too weak to climb a rope," objected tom. "i'll tell you what we can do," said paul, with a happy thought. "we can take this coil of rope we have here and make a narrow ladder of it! that will be easy for him to catch, and easy to climb." all agreed instantly that this was the only hope of rescue. so john kept the sky-bird slowly wheeling, while his three mates cut and tied until they had formed a narrow rope ladder about fifty feet long. one end of this they securely fastened in the cabin, while they let the other drop down through the glass trap in the floor. to their dismay the rush of wind carried the light ladder out so horizontally behind that they saw they could never get low enough with safety for oliver torrey to reach it! what could they do now? it seemed they were destined to failure; that torrey must be left to the cruel and hungry waves. "i have it!" cried bob. "we'll fasten grandpa near the lower end of the ladder. his weight will be sufficient to keep it down straight." this was a splendid scheme, surely. accordingly, the monkey, wondering what new form of teasing was about to be imposed upon him, was fastened about three feet from the bottom end of the ladder, and grandpa and his strange trapeze was then slowly let down until all of the ladder had been paid out. the crew were glad to note that it now hung almost perpendicularly. now the success of everything depended upon john. he must be skillful enough to bring the ladder across torrey's position in just the right place for the flyer to grasp it as it swept past. they shouted to the man below to stand up if he could, and comprehending in an instant his part of the program, he struggled to his feet, spreading them wide apart to brace himself, for the wrecked airplane was rocking somewhat from the action of the waves. the first time john brought the sky-bird by he was too high; torrey could not reach the ladder. the second time a sudden gust of wind blew the ropes too far to one side at the critical moment. the third time the machine itself was a trifle too far to one side. but on the fourth attempt success met their patient efforts; torrey's hands seized the bottom rung of the ladder, and a few minutes later he had climbed up into the cabin and sunk weakly upon the floor. paul then brought in the ladder, laughing nervously, and released grandpa, who had not relished his part of the proceedings in the least, to judge from his excited chattering, most of which was bestowed upon the rescued man. chapter xxx an alarming discovery one of the first questions our flyers asked of oliver torrey, after they had helped him remove his wet clothing, was: "where are your friends?" the _clarion_ flyer shook his head sadly. "they're done for--drowned. i'm the only one left of our crew. that was an awful storm, boys! i don't see how you ever survived it." "we did it by flying over the greater part of it," said tom. "how did it happen to get you fellows?" "pete and chuck were operating," explained oliver torrey. "sam and i both wanted to get above the tornado, but they said they thought it wouldn't amount to much. when they saw how bad it really was, it was too late. a whirlpool of wind struck us at three thousand feet, pete lost control, and we went into a nose-dive from which we never recovered. when we struck the sea the force crushed in the front of the cabin, stunning pete, and before any of us could grab him the waves had washed him out of our sight. chuck, sam, and i managed to get out and climb up on the fuselage; but the seas were running so high that half of the time we were buried in water. coming out of one of these deluges, i looked around and saw that i was alone. then the storm passed, and things looked better for me. but i was just about ready to give up when i saw the sky-bird coming." oliver torrey paused a moment, wiped his haggard face, and then continued, as he looked earnestly at his rescuers: "boys, i never can thank you enough for saving my worthless life. it's awful to think that we guys let pete deveaux coax us into doing all those dirty things to hold you back. i guess we deserved this punishment. if i ever get back to panama i'll certainly make what amends i can by telling the whole disgraceful story to the world." tom stepped in front of the _clarion_ flyer, and shook his finger in his face. "torrey," said tom, "i think at heart you are all right; but listen! mr. wrenn, who hired you fellows, is a straight man through and through. if this story gets out it will be published broadcast, and people will think he abetted your crimes against us. so, for his sake----" "i see; i hadn't thought of that," ejaculated torrey. "i will keep still; as far as the public'll ever know, they'll think this was a fair and square contest--and so it was on your part." it must be remembered that john and tom had had no sleep since the day previous. they were so tired by now, especially john, that they were very glad to retire to the hammocks, leaving paul and bob to take care of the sky-bird. oliver torrey was also exhausted, and accepted with alacrity paul's invitation to him to jump into the spare hammock. within five minutes the two youths were the only ones awake. it seemed good to the boys to feel that soon they would be at san cristobal, their last stop before the final hop. they flew along with the throttle wide open for the next hour, eager to make up for the delay caused by the storm and the rescue of torrey. then they reduced the speed a little, to make sure they would not overheat the engine, but still they made good time. shortly before six o'clock that afternoon they sighted a blue haze which a little later developed into a group of several islands. these they knew, by consulting their chart, were the gallapagos, the home of the largest land-turtles ever known, monsters so enormous that one of them could walk off with two half-grown boys on his broad back. there are over two thousand volcano cones in these islands, and soon our friends were almost in the midst of them. on all sides and at all distances were rugged peaks one hundred to two thousand feet high, rising sheer from a rose-pink sea over which the declining sun played ravishingly. along the shores pelicans soared above the shallow inlets, watching for unwary fish. tiny birds darted in and out among the cliffs. down in the crystal depths of the sea, over shelves of coral, vague shapes hovered and passed and repassed--sharks, dolphins, turtles, and grunts, even the ghastly devil-fish. all life seemed confined to water and to air; never was dry land so desolate-looking as those myriads of barren volcanic cones. yet one of these islands was peopled with human beings--san cristobal. which one was it? the easternmost of the group, said the chart. circling that way. bob gave a yelp like a pup which sees his younger master after he has been away all day. "i see dalrymple rock!" he cried, with the binoculars to his eyes. "i see wreck point, too, and a bay between 'em, with houses on the beach. that looks like our number, all right. what more do you want, paul?" "nothing," laughed paul,--"except our landing field. find that, wake up the other fellows, and i'll be satisfied." in a moment bob pointed out a flat field marked with the welcome white t, then he aroused john and tom while paul was bringing the sky-bird down. from a rickety old pier, also from the shores where they had gathered, a crowd of curious natives rushed forward to witness the landing of the most startling object they had ever seen. they were a mixture of south americans, mostly ecuadoreans, and not until our friends stepped out of the cabin did they summon up enough courage to get very close to the machine. among them was the owner of the island--a good-looking young ecuadorean, highly educated, who was to look after their interests in the matter of fuel,--and the chief of police (presumably "chief," because there is only one representative of the law in the galapagos). the owner of san cristobal informed the flyers in excellent french,--which all of them except oliver torrey could speak,--that he was delighted to welcome the first airplane crew to his little domain; that weeks ago the ship had brought gasoline and oil, which was now awaiting their pleasure in the little nearby shanty; that he and his police officer and the peons were eager to serve them in any way they could; and would the brave american aviators favor him and his police officer by joining them at the hacienda for dinner that evening? our friends graciously accepted this invitation, upon finding that their host would appoint a watch for the airplane. they then went with him to his pretty hacienda in the valley--a green, undulating country, dotted with grazing cattle and horses, patches of sugar-cane, coffee bushes, and lime trees, stretching away to a cloud-capped range of mountains. situated upon a hillock, in the midst of this entrancing valley, and surrounded by the peons' grass houses, was the owner's home. here the flyers partook of an excellent repast, garnished with the best the island could afford, including tender wild duck from the surrounding lagoons and savory turtle soup. then followed songs by their host, and jolly college melodies by themselves, accompanied by the sweet strains of a guitar in the hands of the police officer. out in the compound, the peons also celebrated the occasion. there were great oil flares, thrummings of guitars, gyrating dancers in bright-hued ponchos, merry cries, the laughing of children, the barking of dogs. everybody seemed thoroughly happy and contented. and, after all, what else matters? that is the ecuadorean point of view, and who shall say it is a bad one? it was difficult for the boys to remind themselves that here they were precisely on the equator, so positively chilly was it. and yet they were. it was the third time which they had touched that imaginary girdle of the earth in the past week or so; and it was to be their last crossing. how inspiring the thought that they were now within one hop of their goal; that sometime on the morrow they would probably reach panama well within their time limit of ten days! the fact is, they had only miles ahead of them--a distance which could easily be covered, barring accidents, inside of five hours, and they had until one o'clock the following day in which to reach their destination. when they realized this, and were pressed most insistently by the owner of the island to spend the night, under the shelter of his roof, where there were two spare beds, the tired, bed-hungry flyers decided to remain over, oliver torrey going to the house of the police "chief." torrey was really in no physical condition, as it was, to continue the flight immediately, for he had suffered a chill as the result of his exposure, and felt very weak. next morning they were up at the break of day, and at once began the task of refilling the tanks of the sky-bird and giving her machinery a general overhauling. torrey felt much better, and assisted in these operations. his gratitude to the boys for deciding not to divulge the duplicity of the unfortunate crew with whom he had been connected was very great, and he spared no effort to help them on toward success--which goes to show that this fellow was not at all bad at heart but had simply gotten in with a bad crowd. it was a good thing that the flyers went over their engines. john found a loose coupling in one, and a stretched fan belt in the other. had they gone on in this condition trouble would have been sure to visit them. it was small wonder, however, that something should not be out of good working order, for these faithful pieces of mechanism had been given the hardest kind of usage day in and day out, each in its turn, and sometimes working together, in this long flight around the earth. their final test had been the storm. more than once the boys had marveled at the remarkable efficiency of their motive power. what a tribute to the mechanical genius of modern man had these engines paid! they were almost human in intelligence, more than human in their untiring zeal. the repairs were not difficult to make; the belt was cut and fastened again with a leather lace borrowed from the police "chief's" shoe, and the careful use of a wrench and other tools out of their kit finally fixed the loose coupling. but these operations had consumed unlooked-for valuable time, and when they had had breakfast with their friends and were ready at last to go, they found that the watch of their host indicated the hour of nine. setting their own watches to this local time, as had been their custom in all towns upon arriving or leaving, our flyers once more thanked their entertainers for courtesies extended, wished them good-bye, and got in their machine. as they taxied swiftly down the course, the rush of wind from the big propeller sent more than one ecuadorean's wide-brimmed hat flying from his head, and to the enjoyment of all, a native who was perched precariously upon an up-ended cask was blown heels-over-head backwards. no sooner had they straightened out upon their northeasterly course than bob sat down to his instruments and called up the panama wireless station. in about ten minutes he got it, and told of their position and the accident to the _clarion_. they all knew that when the news of this catastrophe reached the american newspapers there would be the greatest excitement, and that mr. wrenn would not only be grievously disappointed but horrified at the fate of the three members of his crew. they now had just four hours in which to reach their goal. that meant they must travel at an average rate of better than miles an hour. since they had gone considerably faster than this when the occasion had warranted it in the past, they felt no anxieties now. john, who was at the throttle, opened the sky-bird up to , and at this gait they skimmed swiftly along over the blue-green waters of the big pacific. "this speed ought to bring us in by twelve-thirty--a good half-hour ahead of our limit,--so there's no need of rushing matters," said john, to which sentiment his comrades agreed. by eleven o'clock all were keenly on the look-out. each flyer coveted the honor of being the first one to see the coastline of central america, the resting-place of panama. paul, with the binoculars to his eyes, was the one to win. it was just exactly : when he shouted in true mariner's style: "land ho, my hearties!" taking the glass, one by one his comrades gladly echoed the announcement. but suddenly bob's face turned chalky. "jiminy, fellows," he cried, "what boneheads we are! we have been figuring on san cristobal time all the while. panama's close to an hour ahead!" "and we've only got thirty-five minutes in which to land!" said tom. "huckleberry pie! boneheads we are! boneheads, boneheads! i repeat it--boneheads, boneheads! it's all off now." tom actually wrung his hands in his misery, and the others felt just about as humiliated and disgusted with themselves. "here's where our prize goes a-flickering," groaned paul. "we never can make panama in thirty-five minutes!" "i don't know about that," declared his brother grimly. "here goes for the effort, anyhow. i'll make the sky-bird fly as she has never flown before!" with that he brought the throttle wide open, and two minutes later threw the second engine into commission. chapter xxxi the finish they were not beaten yet! the wind whistled, shrieked, and roared as it swept aft along the smooth body of the sky-bird. the propeller whirred, and the engines purred like two huge twin cats. so great were the noises combined that the voice was completely overwhelmed, and no effort was made by the flyers to talk with one another. with their pulses beating wildly and hearts thumping in accord, they watched the hazy streak on the horizon line ahead rapidly develop into the unmistakable rugged form of land. as they drew closer, they could even see the glint of water on the other side, and knew without the shadow of doubt that what they were looking at was the long belt of earth connecting the two americas--the isthmus of panama itself. and down their backs ran a new thrill at the recognition. larger and larger loomed the brown and green strip in advance. presently, amid the checker-board of nature's colorations, they could make out a bay and on a tongue of land a considerable collection of buildings. it was panama city! five minutes later they could even distinguish the american flag--how glorious the sight!--fluttering at the staffhead of the courthouse, and could see the streets and ships in the harbor thronged with people who were evidently waiting to welcome them. the excitement of the throngs increased as the airplane drew closer. people jumped up and down, yelled, and waved their hats. it had been only a few minutes before that bob had received the radio admonition from the panama station; "town gone wild; but hurry in. you only have six minutes left!" now they were circling high over the heads of the populace, with one engine shut off and the speed of the other much reduced. in graceful, pretty circles the sky-bird began to spiral her way downward, john's eyes fastened upon the big white t of the familiar airdrome. as they came down, people in the outlying districts rushed madly toward the field, and the streets everywhere were choked with the concourse pouring toward the center of attraction. scores of others had previously posted themselves in the airdrome; but all were kept back by a cordon of ropes and a guard of zone policemen. inside of the barrier were a favored few government officials and distinguished personages, newspaper men, photographers, and mr. giddings and mr. wrenn themselves. colonel hess, the judge of the contest, was also present, ready to receive the flyers' affidavits of stops. as the flyers stepped out of their machine many a camera clicked, and the air was filled with the cheers of the multitude. colonel hess stepped quickly up. in one hand was a watch; the other was extended. "my heartiest congratulations, boys!" he exclaimed, as he received their paper. "you have arrived just in the nick of time. panama time, it is now exactly fifty-nine minutes after twelve!" they had won by one minute! the flyers were so tickled that they also felt like cheering. but they were sobered instantly when mr. wrenn came forward and they saw how sorrowful he looked in spite of the brave smile with which he greeted them. "young men," said the publisher of the clarion, "as the loser in this contest i also wish to congratulate you. we have suffered a heavy blow ourselves, but you deserve full credit for the good work you have done, and i am not the kind of a contemporary to withhold compliments so fairly earned. i trust my men conducted themselves as true sportsmen, poor fellows." noticing that oliver torrey was on the point of making reply, john gave him a warning look, and a moment later pulled him aside and said in a low voice: "mr. wrenn should not know that you fellows did not conduct yourselves otherwise than fair in this race. that would make him feel all the worse. keep mum to _everybody_ about this, and we'll do the same." oliver torrey nodded--tears in his eyes as he saw how desirous the sky-bird's crew were of protecting his own interests as well as the good name of his former associates. what fine fellows they were! how he wished he could have been allied with them on this cruise, instead of with pete deveaux and his bunch! the hardships and perils of the past ten days were forgotten in the excitement of the present. our flyers hardly knew what they were doing, so great was their joy. they shook hands with scores, hearts swelling with those emotions invoked by achievement and the glamor of the moment. it was--and always will be, perhaps,--the supreme hour of their lives. almost reverently they looked over the sky-bird. through every possible climatic rigor the airplane had passed, and practically without any attention. not once, from the time they had left this very airdrome until they had reached it again, after traversing close to , miles, had she been under shelter or sulked on them through deficient construction. given a few days to overhaul her engines, they felt they would be quite capable of repeating their world record-breaking achievement, if it were necessary. these reflections were of brief duration, however; for the crowd, having forced its way past the barriers, and having satisfied its curiosity over the machine, directed their attention to the flyers. brimming with enthusiasm, they lifted every one of them shoulder high, laughing and cheering, and conveyed them to an extemporized platform made from a large box. from this elevation, each flyer in his turn was called upon for a speech. the boys made these quite brief, but were vociferously applauded; and then the two famous publishers were asked to contribute. following came the governor of the zone, who very eloquently expressed the pride the little republic felt in starting off and witnessing the finish of this memorable event, and he said the keys of panama were at the disposal of the young aviators until they should feel it incumbent upon them to leave for the states. for three days our friends remained, and during that time they were the almost constant recipients of honors from civic clubs and associations of the city, as well as from the english-speaking citizenry in general. they were entertained at dinners, at the theater, and at sporting events out-of-doors--and not a penny were they allowed to spend themselves. to the aviators it all seemed like a festival snatched from the covers of "arabian nights." had genii and fairies, elfs and goblins, appeared before them bearing gifts of gold and jewels they would hardly have been surprised, so unreal did everything appear to their tired minds; and tired bodies only grew more tired under the stress of the social demands. strange indeed were their feelings when, upon looking at back files of newspapers, they read the history of their exploits, recorded with a degree of detail which must have taxed the imaginative resources of editorial staffs to gray hairs; and saw picture after picture taken with their own camera and sent across many a continent in the form of undeveloped film, now to bring before their eyes once more the realism of the moment when they were taken. there were photographs of themselves collectively and individually in many a place now far distant; views of the machine at rest, and of parts of it among the clouds and above them; two views of the fight with the condors; several of grandpa in various amusing positions; many pictures of foreign places and of natives; illustrations showing the battle with the devil-fish; storms as seen from below, and storms as seen below when flying above them. even pictures of the wreck of the _clarion_, and of oliver torrey climbing up the rope ladder, were not missing. before the flyers left panama, paul received many offers to sell grandpa to various admirers, but no amount of money could have induced him to part with this faithful little mascot. oliver torrey particularly felt that he owed a great debt of gratitude to the monkey. when the party finally reached new york city, after a non-incidental flight of one night and the major portion of a day, they were given another ovation--one which far outrivaled in volume the one they had received at panama. the mayor and city officials wished to fête them, but the boys were too exhausted to stand more of such doings; they wished to get home as soon as possible, hide from everybody but those in their immediate families, and just rest--rest--rest. they didn't think they would even care to see their dear old sky-bird again for several months. it would be hard indeed to comprehend the feelings that surged through the flyers as they landed the airplane in the fair-grounds of their own native town--yonkers--and were greeted by hundreds of familiar faces and voices, to say nothing of the hand-clasps of many old-time friends. but, after all, the reunion with their own relatives was the cause for the greatest thanksgiving, as we may assume. both paul's and bob's mothers had prepared the choicest of dinners for their famous sons, and that evening the ross and giddings families were the happiest and merriest ones in town. mr. giddings and mr. wrenn both realized more out of the advertising than the contest had cost them. the former met his agreement by giving each of his flyers five thousand dollars, and his business rival did likewise by oliver torrey. later on, bob and the ross boys sold their patents on the sky-bird to a large airplane manufacturing company for a sum which promised to make them independent for the rest of their lives. wings over the rockies or jack ralston's new cloud chaser by ambrose newcomb author of "the sky detectives," "eagles of the sky," etc., etc. published by the goldsmith publishing co. chicago ------------------------------------------------------------------------ copyright the goldsmith publishing co. made in u. s. a. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ contents i waiting for orders ii perk grows suspicious iii the hold-up iv a chance clue v when a cog slipped vi cyclone proves game vii they are off viii birds of a feather ix the threatening crash x flying blind xi an unsolved mystery xii in the colorado canyon country xiii a stranded plane xiv jack makes a discovery xv the hand of fate xvi suzanne insists xvii the camp in the canyon xviii the vigilant guard xix over-zealous perk xx an unsubdued spirit xxi combing the mountain-tops xxii an air-mail way station xxiii perk loses his voice xxiv one chance in a thousand xxv the never-say-die spirit xxvi crater lake xxvii the end of the trail xxviii around the campfire xxix no prowlers allowed xxx bringing in their man ------------------------------------------------------------------------ wings over the rockies chapter i waiting for orders "hot ziggetty dog! i kinder guess now jack, we've been an' put the new cloud-chaser through every trick we've got up our sleeves--flopped her over on her back, righted her, to turn turtle again, done nose-dives an' immelmann turns, made a shivery sixteen thousand foot ceilin' for altitude--an' now, after all this circus stunt business, we figger she's a real ship, queen o' the air-ways." "perk, you never said truer words and i'm sure proud of the fact that our big boss up at washington appreciated that little florida job we put through last winter, so's to put us in charge of such a swell air craft." "ginger pop! we used to reckon our old crate some punkins at speedin', when _real_ flyin' was needed but shucks! with this cracker-jack boat we could make all kinds o' rings 'round the old bus or else my name ain't gabe perkiser." the young leather clad pilot at the controls, as if to still further emphasize his good opinion of the spanking, up-to-date plane they had for some days been joyfully testing out, volplaned down on a long coast just as though a merciless enemy craft were on their tail with a babbling machine-gun keeping up an intermittent fire and a hail of bullets filling the air around them. then he leveled off, attained a dizzy speed, turned, banked, and came roaring back to execute a dazzling monster figure-eight sweep. "great stuff, old hoss!" cried the exultant perk for they had their earphones adjusted so as to be able to exchange comments at will, despite any racket caused by the madly racing motor and spinning propeller combined. "i reckon that will be enough juice used up for today," jack ralston was saying in a thoroughly satisfied tone, "and now we'd better make a bee-line for our landing field. it'll be the same old story,--a gang gathering around to admire our new boat--and all trying to find out just who we are and what big air company we're connected with." thereupon perk chuckled in a queer way he had, evidently vastly amused. "we got 'em right goofy with guessin', partner, for a fact. how the curious minded boobs do try to squeeze a few grains o' information out of us with their foxy questions. i've heard some wise-cracks along them lines silly enough to make a hoss laugh an' all o' the remarks ain't jest as complimentary as i'd like, not by a long shot." "little we care," remarked jack, adjusting his goggles to a more satisfactory angle and releasing the ear flaps of his helmet. they had left the frigid altitude where they had climbed almost as though shot upward by some monster cannon, thanks to the novel wings with which the new ship was equipped. "huh! let 'em try to outsmart us," perk went on to say, a bit scornfully. "we c'n jest keep our lips buttoned tight an' mind our own business. won't be long, anyway, i guess, till we hear from headquarters an' have to jump off on some fresh stunt, roundin' up the slick crooks who keep puttin' their thumbs on their noses an' wigglin' their fingers at uncle sam's secret service boys--counterfeiters, smugglers, aliens crossing the borders, booze from out on the high seas, makers o' moonshine in the mountings and on the burnin' deserts like death valley an' such riffraff that scoffs at the law!" perk, as he was generally called by his friends, was really a world war veteran, having served aboard a "sausage" observation balloon and later on as a fighting pilot of more than average bravery and ability. he did his "daily dozen" through the whole desperate series of conflicts in the argonne with a fair number of "flaming coffins" placed to his credit--enemy ships shot down on fire. since quitting the army after the armistice put a stop to all hostilities, perk had passed through quite a number of vocations that appealed to the unrest in his blood, demanding so strenuously a calling built upon more or less continual excitement. he had been a barn-storming pilot, giving exhibitions of reckless parachute jumping from high altitudes and similar stunts at county fairs and other public gatherings and had also spent several years as a valued member of the mounted police up in the canadian northwest country. he finally was drafted into uncle sam's secret service by reason of an official having met up with him when moose hunting in the trackless wilds of northern british columbia. when jack ralston, who himself had gained a little fame in the secret service on account of generally bringing in his man, was selected to pilot a speedy ship he picked gabe perkiser whom he had known for some time and whose companionable disposition as well as unquestioned courage made him an ideal pal--in jack's eyes at least. their first assignment called for service carrying the flyers over the mexican border to apprehend a notorious character who had long been a thorn in the flesh of the washington authorities, since he came and went, mostly via the air route, crashing uncle sam's frontier gate with cargoes of undesirable aliens, usually chinese, willing to pay as much as a thousand dollars per head for an opportunity to enter the states, forbidden ground to those of their race.[ ] having, despite all difficulties, carried out their instructions to the letter and handed over their man to the nearest u. s. district attorney for prosecution, jack and perk were later on dispatched with their efficient plane to the gulf coast of florida, there to break up a powerful combination of smugglers through whose bold and lawless ventures, by air and sea, the whole southern country was being submerged in a flood of foreign brands of liquor. again the two pals proved their calibre and brought home the bacon, having dealt the rum-runners a severe jolt and actually kidnaped the chief offender.[ ] now they were daily anticipating still another assignment which, for aught they knew might carry them to the maine border or even to alaska--all sectors of our wide country look alike to energetic secret service agents especially when they have magical wings with which to annihilate space and carry them through cloudland at a hundred miles and more an hour. it looked very much as though their excellent record was being fully appreciated at headquarters for there had come to them a wonderfully equipped new ship, carrying many lately discovered and new inventions calculated to lighten the labors of the man at the controls as well as to secure a degree of safety never before attained in any craft. jack was heading for the home port, quite satisfied with the finishing check-up of the amazing attributes of their new acquisition, and as for perk, he could hardly contain himself, such was his enthusiasm in connection with their trying-out process. "beats anything that carries wings," he vowed in his characteristic fashion, "and it's bound to be a poor day for any guy who thinks he c'n get away from this race hoss o' the skies. see how she snorts on her course will you, partner, and us agoin' at mor'n a hundred an' thirty right now! this is the life for me, an' i wouldn't care much if my legs got so cramped i couldn't walk a mile--some birds are like that, i understand, buzzards f'r instance fairly wobble on the ground but able to put the kibosh on most other feathered folks when they take off in their clumsy way." jack did not show much desire to keep up the conversation--the fact of the matter was he felt more or less tired after a long day in the clouds and much preferred to pay strict attention to the many dials on the black dashboard just in front, with which he was by degrees becoming familiar. the afternoon was drawing near its close, with the sun drawing closer to the mountainous horizon off to the west. so after swinging on their way for half an hour they were able to glimpse their destination which was the cheyenne, wyoming, airport. "keep up your bluffing when we land perk, remember," warned jack as he started to circle at a height of a thousand feet and could see a number of people running this way and that, undoubtedly in their endeavor to be close by when their landing gear struck the ground. this wonderful new plane, and the mysterious pair of pals handling it had continued to excite the curiosity not only of pilots using the field, but aviation bugs who haunted the place as well. these folks were enthusiasts over the exploits of noted flyers, but not venturesome enough themselves to wish to become pilots, even though they were of the right calibre. however, they knew considerable about ships and their furniture so as to be able to appreciate anything exceedingly novel along those lines. "watch my smoke, partner," said perk complacently enough. "i'm not agoin' to let any o' that mob crab my game. men in our class don't go around doin' their stuff in the open, like they was magicians throwin' a fit. we got to know how to mix things a heap an' pull the wool over the eyes o' the crowd. so far as they need to know, we're jest a couple o' guys out for a lark an' with shekels to burn." "that's the ticket perk, keep the racket going up to the time we pull out of cheyenne no matter which way we climb. well, here goes to knock our tail on the ground again then for a bite of supper at the emporium and a look in at some show. i'm getting a bit tired of this inaction, to tell you the honest truth. i reckon both of us will be glad to get our next orders and cut loose with our nobby ship." "you said a mouthful buddy that time," observed perk as he raised his hands with the intention of removing the earphones since they were at the end of their afternoon check-up, delightfully happy because their plane had shown its exceedingly strong points. now they were circling for the last time and those below, discovering just about where they meant to land, had started on the run, apparently eager to be on hand in order to obtain a fresh close-up of the mysterious chums who had been hanging around the airport for such a length of time. never had a boat dropped down more lightly than did their craft--jack could not help giving his mate a look of overpowering joy at the slight impact, which was returned in full measure by the proud perk who anticipated wonderful things to come when they got going for fair up among the clouds or dodging through the canyons of the mighty rockies, wherever the hand of fate, and orders from headquarters, took them. so the landing was made and the wonder ship safely housed in the hangar they had hired which could be securely locked to keep curious minded or unscrupulous people from trying to get a line on its several novel features. a short but serious-looking chap came up to have a few words with jack--this was the party who had been hired especially to keep watch and ward over their highly prized aerial steed. cal stevens had been recommended as a man to be trusted and although he had no positive knowledge of their identity, he did know they were clean sportsmen and men of their word. consequently jack felt the precious ship given into their charge by the government would be carefully guarded throughout each night. they left the field with several figures trailing after them for the mystery hovering over their movements had piqued the curiosity of a number of men. all manner of queer stories, resting on insecure foundations, had been rumored so that people pointed them out in the street and some wise-acres even gained considerable notoriety by pretending to know it all, though under a pledge to keep their secret inviolate. it became even necessary to resort to expedients in order to shake these snoopers as the indignant perk called them and usually a vehicle of some sort offered them an easy way to beat out the clan. on this particular evening, however, a big car occupied by several men whom they did not remember having noticed before, kept after their own vehicle up to the very door of the modest house in which they had a room. "i say it's a danged shame," stormed the angry perk as the two of them started to strip and get into ordinary citizen's clothing so they would not attract unpleasant attention while eating their supper and attending the movies later on--"that pesky car kept on our tail right up to the door an' chances are it's parked somewhere out there right now, awaitin' for us to hike over to the emporium restaurant. riles me for fair, partner, an' for two cents i'd like to stand them hoboes on their heads, on'y i guess that'd be fool's play for me." "it certainly would, perk," his chum assured him as they dressed. "men in the detective line never want to draw attention to themselves for once it's known what calling they're engaged in and a lot of their value to their employers is lost. that's just why the detectives in big cities like new york wear masks when suspects are lined up each morning for inspection. you know that, of course, perk, but i'm just reminding you because if you get all 'het up' you might say or do something that would spill the beans for us." "i'll cool down right away, jack old hoss," the other assured him contritely. "that's my greatest weakness you know, an' i'm countin' on my best pal to keep a finger on my pulse so's to check me up when i threaten to run loose with my too ready tongue. wait a minute, jack, till i get a paper so i c'n read up on the dope as i munch my feed. i'm wanting to learn whether anything's been heard from our mutual friend, buddy warner, the best air mail pilot on the job today." "i certainly hope he's turned up since we jumped off this morning," said jack with more than his customary earnestness. "there must be a dozen or two ships scouring the country in search of buddy." this pilot had never reached his port of call two days back and is believed to be down somewhere in that wild country among the big hills and canyons, either dead or badly hurt and needing a helping hand right away. perk gave a hurried glance at the scare-heads on the front page of the newspaper he had purchased and then grunted dismally. "nothin' doin' so far, partner," he announced with a sigh that welled up from the very depths of his warm, friendly heart. "more ships a'startin' out from every-which-way. a happenin' like this, when the lost guy chances to be a friendly dick that everybody likes, seems to arouse that sportsman spirit that you find in all air pilot circles. it gets to be a reg'lar _fever_, with even famous flyers givin' up vacations they'd been lookin' forward to for weeks, just to start out an' try to locate the lost man. huh! nothin'd tickle me more than a chance to lend a hand myself, on'y we're in the government's employ and can no more quit our job than air mail lads could throw the letter sacks in the discard and sail around peekin' into every gulch an' hidin' place in the mountains in hopes o' bein' the lucky guy to fetch buddy back." "i'm mighty sorry nothing's been found out," said jack, "but the boys are sure to comb every rod of ground again and again until it's certain he can't be located. but here's our restaurant perk, so let's drop in and dine." ----- footnote : see the first volume of this series, "_the sky detectives_." footnote : see the preceding story entitled, "_eagles of the sky_." ii perk grows suspicious "i swan if it don't beat all creation what stuff these newspaper boys do turn out when they're put on the job o' pickin' up sensational news," perk was saying some time later as both he and his companion were satisfying their hunger with such viands as appealed to their taste upon the bill of fare. "what ails you now, comrade?" asked jack, smilingly for he always found the strongly expressed likes and dislikes of his chum a never failing well of interest that frequently brought out one of his seldom used chuckles. "why, seems like they never let a chance get past to fetch lindbergh into the picture, no matter if he's three thousand miles off as the crow flies. here one account tells that it's '_reported_ our distinguished air pilot's set out to lend a hand at findin' poor buddy warner,' who, the story goes, 'used to be a blanket pal o' lindbergh's away back in them balmy days when charles jumped with his little chute at county fairs an' did the barn-stormin' racket. not that he wouldn't be on the job if on'y he didn't happen to be away off around new york right now, up to his eyes in business connected with the new air line he's at the head of. course lots o' good folks'll swallow this story without a question but it's jest a sample o' wild newspaper stuff--no man c'n be on the atlantic coast an' out here in the rockies at the same time. gosh! but they do pull the wool over some people's eyes these days--anything for a sensation an' to get the jump over the other cub reporters." "but perk, we do happen to know that there are quite a number of noted pilots out scouring the entire region and sticking to their job like leeches, under their sporting slogan 'do as you'd be done by'." "sure thing, partner--that's legitimate news and not faked," agreed the other with a grunt as he speared a small boiled onion of which he was very fond, and thrust it into his mouth. "lindbergh is a wonder, as we all know, but there's a limit to his activities and it ain't fair to want him to take hold o' everything that comes along. now he's doubled up and took him a wife. they reckon nothin' c'n be carried through without his name bein' tacked on somehow or other. 'taint fair to that boy, an' them's my sentiments." jack shook his head and looked serious. "then the mystery is as deep as ever and they haven't yet found out what happened to poor buddy?" he asked, to which perk shook his head in the negative, saying: "never a thing--all wrapped up in a black fog--he started off in high spirits and with a joke on his lips an' then disappeared like he never was. hang it all, why couldn't i have been doin' some other sorter job where they might 'a' let me off for a spell? nothin' i'd like better than to comb the hull countryside in hopes o' findin' that bully boy--he told me once 'bout that mother o' his'n. i kinder guess she must be a peach, he thought so much o' her. lands sake! but it might even kill her if her boy ain't never heard from again. i'd give every dollar i got in the wide world--which ain't boastin' none i know--if only i was a free agent an' goin' on my own hook." "hard luck, partner," soothed jack, laying a hand on the arm of his pal as if to sympathize with the impulsive one; "but of course that's out of the question, you and me--we're under a contract that can't be broken recklessly, no matter what happens and we've just _got_ to keep everlastingly on the job till our time is up when we can either renew or get out." "i guess you got it down pat, jack," agreed the other with a heavy sigh that told of his regret being genuine. perk was one of those queer chaps who are born with a stubborn itch to find _anything_ that is said to be lost which would account in part for his having thrown in his fortunes with both the northwest mounted police and now the united states secret service. "besides, there was a sort of intimation in that late letter from the big boss," jack went on to say, "that seemed to hint at something big coming our way before very long so all we can do is to keep hoping for some luck and doing our daily stunt flying so as to learn all the wrinkles connected with our new cloud-chaser as you like to call the ship we're attached to right now." "why do you keep on turning your head a little while you're eating i'd like to know, perk--got to seeing things again, like you did once before, i remember?" continued jack. "huh! i'm jest takin' a peep in that mirror over there partner," replied perk in a low tone that had a slight air of mystery about it, jack imagined. "pretty girl this time struck you where your heart is soft, eh, buddy?" jack inquired with a chuckle. "not this time old hoss--take a squint yourself--see them two fellers sittin' at the corner table, where they c'n watch us?--well, seems like they take a heap o' pleasure keepin' tabs on us while we sit here and gobble. i'm wonderin' who and what they are also why they bother to keep an eye on our actions right along." "yes, i can see them out of the tail of my eye," jack told him. "don't you remember the pair in the big touring car that kept ducking after us?--i reckon these boys are that same couple. did you notice them sitting there when we came in?" "nothin' doin' that way, boss," perk told him with a positive ring to his voice. "i chanced to turn my head a few minutes after we got settled down, an' they were walkin' over to that corner like they'd sized up the table as if it suited their plans. ever since, they've kept talkin' in low tones, an' watchin' us like i've seen a fox do, hidin' in the brush an' waitin' for a fat young partridge to come close enough for him to make a spring and grab his dinner." jack refused to become flustered, even if perk showed signs of being annoyed. "oh!" he went on to remark casually, "chances are they may be some of those pests of newspaper boys, scenting a scoop of a story for their sensation loving sheets--competition is so keen these days they lie awake nights i'm told, and accept all sorts of chances of being kicked out if only they can get the right sort of stuff to build up into a thriller." "mebbe so, mebbe so," grumbled the indignant perk, "but anyhow i don't like it a bit. that dark-faced guy strikes me as a pretty tough sort o' scrapper, one i'd hate to smack up against in a dark alley an' the other ain't much shakes as a good-looker either. jack, do you think they know who we are and got some sort o' grudge against us on 'count o' the trade we foller, eh, what?" "oh! it might be so," replied the other, "anything is possible and while we've been lucky enough to hide our light under a bushel all the time we've hung around the cheyenne airport, we couldn't expect to keep that game up indefinitely, you understand. after all, we hope to be pulling our freight and slipping out of this burg before long. so we'll just keep our eyes open for stormy weather and be on our guard." "hot ziggetty dog! i sure do hope now they ain't meanin' to bust in on our fine ship an' play hob with her--wouldn't that jar you though, partner?" and perk could be seen to grind those big white teeth of his as if gripped by a spasm of rage almost beyond his control. like the arab whose love for his horse is said to exceed any affection for his wife, most sky pilots feel an overpowering regard for their ship in which they risk their lives every time they jump off and perk was peculiarly built that way. "that would be a calamity for a fact," admitted jack, giving the two men under suspicion another little survey, "but we've got a good guard keeping tabs over the boat and he's empowered to shoot if some one tries any funny business out at the hangar, so i reckon there's nothing to worry over in that direction." perk continued to grumble, half beneath his breath, showing how he felt under the skin about the matter. jack on his part skillfully directed the low conversation into other and more cheerful channels so that presently, after the two strangers had passed out of the restaurant, perk seemed to put them aside as "false alarms" and entered into the discussion of the merits of their beloved cloud-chaser with a modicum of his usual good nature which was just what his chum wished to have happen, so as to clear the atmosphere, which, in perk's case was getting considerably muddy. iii the hold-up jack had certainly shown considerable cunning in starting to talk about some of the clever and novel devices with which their new ship was equipped in order to turn the attention of his chum into more pleasant channels for perk soon became most eloquent in speaking of those wonderful discoveries. "it sure is a great stunt, us bein' able to quit the ground in ten shakes o' a lamb's tail," he was speedily remarking, "'stead of havin' to take such a long an' often bumpy run. the way that boat acts under your pilotin' makes me think o' how a clumsy buzzard when scared, gives a hop up into the air for a few feet, starts them big wings o' his'n workin' and goes hoppetty-skip-petty off on an upward slant. seems like the next thing we know we'll have some sorter contraption that'll jest give us a toss, like you'd fling a pigeon up, for a gunner to smack after it'd started to fly out o' bounds." "i understand," jack told him, smoothly enough, "they've got something mighty near as wonderful as that, only it lacks just a little finishing touch to make it sure pop. five years from now the boys who've come through with their lives will be looking back to _our_ day as being still in the woods, and us pilots rough neck amateurs--such staggering things will be the regular line by then." "jest see how the've changed a heap o' the instruments we used to swear by in them days o' the big war over in france, eh jack? you don't see so much difference, but us boys who were in that scrap sometimes c'n hardly believe it's the same aviation world we're livin' in. from compass to pontoons, a dozen or two things have been vastly improved. look at the new ship; we got aluminum pontoons to let us light on the water of a river, lake or the sea itself and with the wheels set in the shoes so as to make a landin' on dry land whenever we feel like it." "pretty slick trick that, i own up, buddy," admitted jack, "and best of all they seem to work like magic in the bargain. and of course we still go under the same old name of _amphibian_, for we can drop down anywhere with only a fair-sized opening." "too bad they didn't give the fine boat a name--havin' only a number gives it a sorter orphan look, strikes me," continued perk, thus voicing an old grievance that thus far he had kept to himself. "i knew that bone was bothering you some, partner," jack told him, "and now you've mentioned it we might as well have it out. names are all very fine for ordinary airships because there's every reason for giving them publicity, which helps business along; but in our case that's exactly what we want to avoid like a sick tooth. get that now, brother, do you?" "huh! i flop, partner--queer how i didn't think o' that before you mentioned it jest now. some day mebbe i'll be workin' in a line that don't have to keep things shady all the time--gettin' my fill o' sneakin' an' snoopin' so's to pull in results." "here's wishing you luck, boy," jack was saying with a vein of seriousness in his voice, "but see here what's bearing down on us like a ship under full sail?--he must have been out of sight behind that partition all the time we've sat here--got a wide grin on his sunburned face, which looks kind of familiar to me. know him, perk?" "zowie! i'd jest say i do partner, don't you see, it's my old friend cyclone davis, the cowboy we've seen more'n once doin' his stunts on the screen. hey there, cyclone, where'd you pop up from, old pard?" perk in evident excitement had jumped up from his chair and with outstretched hand met the oncoming grinning range rider with tumultuous joy, slapping him on the back, wringing his hand furiously and giving a most energetic display of delight at the unexpected meeting. "sit down here an' have a little chin, cyclone--meet my side partner, jack ralston. got to walk back to our room with us so's to tell how you happened to break into the movies an' make such a big hit. glory! didn't it bring back old times when i saw you prancin' around, knocking some big guy on his back like you used to do when in the prize ring as a comin' welterweight champion. now, start doin' your stuff, old pard." innumerable questions from the excited perk brought out more or less interesting information for cyclone proved to be quite a good talker. they managed to keep their voices lowered, although it could be plainly seen jud davis was as a rule built along the jolly and noisy type of optimistic chap, such as make hosts of friends wherever they roam; but he seemed to sense the fact that the two in whose company he now found himself wished to keep strangers from overhearing the subject of their confab and thus toned down his effusiveness accordingly. that was a subject jack kept constantly in mind--the avoidance of anything calculated to put the spot-light of public attention on his doings--he would have been broken hearted if some morning, after having played a big game to a successful conclusion, with his man safely lodged behind the bars, to see on the front page of the daily papers a picture of himself, no matter how poorly executed and thus holding a member of the government secret service up for every lawbreaker in the wide land to stamp on his mind as something to be never forgotten and thus greatly lessen his capacity for efficient work. "we're jest about through here, old hoss," perk finally told the other "an' you jest got to fall in so's to sit with us a while in our room so we c'n tell you what we're a'doin' as boon pals. i know right well it'll never go any further, 'cause you happen to be one o' them fellers what c'n button their lips tight as a clam, with never a single leak." "that's all right, perk," came the other's reassuring answer, "i've got a few hours more to spend in cheyenne and then i'm heading direct for the old motion picture studios at hollywood to do a few easy stunts in a new picture they're going to build up--i'm a cow puncher again, you understand, perk, though i own up now and then my old fighting profession comes in pretty well when there's some scrapping taking place between the cowboy mob and the cattle rustlers or mex outlaws of the border." perk listened to everything the other said with an enraptured expression upon his face, he doubtless was able to mentally picture some of those exciting episodes described by cyclone and felt an itch to be in similar hand-to-hand battles where real blows were exchanged in order to make the scene realistic when depicted on the silver screen. jack could hear him giving many a full-sized sigh when cyclone was running off some of his many adventures with a vein of real humor back of his provocative words and from this could readily believe his chum was having the time of his life. after a while they all arose, and paying their reckoning at the desk, the proprietor eyed the trio as though he rather suspected they must be tom mix and some of his movie friends off on a holiday jaunt--possibly there must have been a certain jaunty air about cyclone's manner that stamped him as belonging to those who moved out on location and cut all manner of amazing capers before the camera. it proved to be pretty dark on the street with few persons abroad, although the hour was not late. the neighborhood happened to be a bit lonely, jack noticed as they walked along three abreast, cyclone continuing a recital of some comical as well as near tragic happening through which he had lately passed. they would not have very far to go to reach their destination which had been one of the reasons for jack selecting the emporium as their dining place its convenience appealing to him more than anything else. at a certain point where the gloom was somewhat more dense than in other localities, jack noticed a motor standing close to the curb and with one of its rear doors standing open. the engine was running, for its steady throb could be plainly heard. but then such a thing is no uncommon occurrence when some busy folks have trouble in starting the engine and prefer to leave it running while they dash into the house for a minute or so. just as they came opposite, he noted that it was a large touring car but the significance of this was borne in upon jack's mind with a rush when two dark figures suddenly sprang out from behind the waiting motor, and with outstretched hands confronted himself and companions while a deep bass voice snapped out the words: "put 'em up, and be snappy about it too, boys!" iv a chance clue it was a holdup pure and simple, appearances would indicate. jack could see in the uncertain light that each of the men gripped a gat in his fingers, covering the astonished trio; he also made out that they had handkerchiefs covering the lower portions of their faces, which made it all the more interesting, since nothing was lacking to fix the picture in the mind as worthy of the latest movie thriller. jack apparently started to raise both hands in obedience to the order so brusquely given but with an incredibly speedy move he suddenly threw out his fight hand and caught the wrist of the nearest holdup man, giving it a twist that compelled the bandit to let his gun fall to the ground. then there was cyclone, true to form as his nick-name would indicate, making a lightning play and leaping on the second bandit with the agility of a canada lynx pouncing on a bounding rabbit. this fellow, taken off his guard it seemed, managed to shoot but the bullet went wild and before he could recover enough to do any damage he was being whirled this way and that in the dazzling fashion shown by the cowboy actor in all his pictures and which had gained him his well earned fame. poor perk, who was left in the lurch, there being no third party in sight whom he could tackle, hardly knew what to do--he kept jumping from one whirlagig to the other, endeavoring to get in a swing with his fist but with rather meager success for he feared to exert himself to the utmost since there was danger of the blow coming in contact with a friendly head instead of the one he meant to strike. jack had knocked his man down twice by well directed blows but each time the rascal climbed to his feet again, being no mean hand it seemed at a scrimmage. he must have been built along the bulldog line more or less, for even while taking a lot of punishment he still stuck to his guns. the third time he managed to close in and again they went spinning round and round, held fast in each others' arms, breathing hard, and endeavoring to effect a windup of the struggle. perhaps the would-be holdup man may have begun to suspect that the pistol-shot would likely enough bring some one running to the spot--even a cop who may have been on duty not far away, at any rate he began to fight most desperately to break loose, thinking that discretion would be the better part of valor and that "he who fights and runs away, may live to fight another day," as the old saying has it. at first, somewhat to jack's astonishment, he realized the man was trying with might and main to force him toward the open door of the touring car as though it may have been his intention to take him "for a ride." that significant phrase had become so notorious of late, in accounts of rival gang fights in the big cities of the east, that jack really began to believe these men aimed to carry him off in their touring car to do something terrible when outside the city limits and then toss him out on the side of the road as a victim to some unknown species of hatred and revenge. of course there was no time just then to try and analyze this strange supposition for all his energies must be engaged in endeavoring to down the unknown who was just then locked in his arms. cyclone was having a beautiful time, giving his man a full measure of the stuff that lay in those steel muscles of his and which had doped out many a case of k.o. when he was in the prize ring. indeed the fellow was so confused and befuddled by the cracks he received on his head and chest that he put up only a puny defense. it proved to be such a one-sided affair that cyclone felt ashamed to keep doing all the hitting and presently lifting the almost senseless wretch he actually tossed him into the car with a crash. this seemed to give jack's opponent a flash of commonsense for he burst out of the encircling arms and dove after his pal, jack having no desire to follow after and try to drag him out again, since as a rule he was far from being a hog for punishment. the man lost not a second in starting his machine which went off down the dimly lighted street like a crazy thing, zigzagging from curb to curb, just as jack remembered seeing shown in comics on the screen. there was disconsolate perk, looking as provoked as any one could be, shaking his head, and punching one fist into the other palm. "such rotten luck!" he was moaning as he strode around the late battlefield. "every feller had his hand in but poor me; what've i done to be cheated out o' my share like i was a baby? why, oh! why wasn't there three bums in the bunch, just enough to go around; dang 'em, why did they want to crab my game like that?" jack who could keep from bursting into a loud laugh only through severe measures along the line of repression, managed to soothe the unhappy perk by judicious words of sympathy. "if only i'd known you wanted a little exercise so much partner," he observed without the flicker of a smile, "why, i'd have tossed him over to you with pleasure. then cyclone here should have slipped you his bird while he was jumping him around at such a great rate. however, it's past now, and the damage can't be mended. next opening that comes along, brother, i solemnly promise to let you try your hand so it won't get out of practice." "that's a bargain, jack old hoss," perk hastened to say as if anxious to make it a compact between them, "an' i won't say what'll be on the cards when i try an' make up for all the times i've been cheated o' my share o' the gate receipts. now, what next i wonder?" "we'll just trot along home and see if there are any hurts needing attention," replied jack. "that one i tackled could squeeze like a bear but my being able with a hand free to swat him several times in the jowl, made him ease up more or less until in the end he weakened and went skidoo. come along fellows, let's be hiking into the next street where we put up and get our sleep." everybody seemed quite willing to call it the close of a perfect day and let things go at that--the holdup men had long since vanished from view; there was more or less danger of a prowling cop having heard that sound of firing and after summoning help, might be on the way to learn the cause. not wishing to be mixed up in anything that might hold them in cheyenne for days awaiting a police court trial, jack had plenty of good reasons for wanting to depart while the going was good. so they trotted along, arm in arm. in good order they reached the private house where the two flyers slept and soon were sitting in the most comfortable fashion possible in the apartment. perk had carefully closed and locked the door, something jack could not remember him doing all the time they had been housed under that hospitable roof which showed how wrought up perk must have become. "an' i'm still a'wonderin' what their silly game could a been," he was saying in a whining tone accompanied with another shake of his head. "none o' us look a bit like bloated plutocrats, 'less it might be cyclone here but seems like that tall lad was a'tryin' to shove you into his blamed old car, jack like they wanted to kidnap you--noticed that didn't you?" "well it struck me that way too, perk," he was told unhesitatingly, "which has me guessing good and hard; what reason could they have for wanting to knock me out of the running--taking me for a ride that way?" "shucks! partner," commented perk immediately, "they be a'plenty o' guys who'd laugh to know you an' me'd kicked the bucket, pe'ticularly you, jack. some o' them lads you've sent up to the pen might have pals at large who'd be ready to make you cash in for playin' them a trick that cost 'em their liberty. revenge i kinder guess is a poisonous weed that takes a quick rooting in the average prison bird's heart--sorter helps to make him better able to bear the years he's got to serve. if on'y he could know the man as sent him into quod had been rapped on the head and kicked out o' a speedin' car." "that makes me think of something," jack remarked just then as he rammed a hand down into one of his coat pockets and drew a yellow piece of paper out. "i chanced to see this lying on the pavement after our birds had taken french leave; it may help us to understand what now looks like a dark mystery beyond our solving." he glanced at what turned out to be a much handled telegraph sheet with typewriting on one side. perk showed sudden interest when he saw how his partner seemed startled and uttered as exclamation indicative of pleasure. v when a cog slipped "what's up, partner?" demanded perk who always admitted to being more or less curious-minded. "something i happened to pick up," replied jack, grinning happily, "after that chap dived into his car and tore off down the street like a house afire." "huh! strikes me it looks kinder like a telegraph message buddy," perk replied eagerly as if he began to smell something like a fire burning. "go up head boy, you said it," his mate told him. "here, read what it says for yourself--you too, cyclone, though it'll be greek to you since you don't happen to know the gent who sent it to cheyenne." perk glued his eager eyes to the yellow slip of paper and as he took in the printed words he held his breath--as if unable to fully grasp the whole meaning of the message with only one reading, he started again, this time going over it aloud. "adolph barkus, evergreen street, "cheyenne, wyoming. "have received positive information they are in your city. pay particular attention to the young flyer. treat him with brotherly kindness and to please me take him for a nice, long ride. keep me posted. things down here in something of a snarl. better drop in and report. i may need you the worst way. "kearns." "hot ziggetty dog! what d'ye think o' that measly rum-runner bobbin' up like a floatin' cork to annoy us again?" perk gave all the signs of annoyance--he clenched his fist, frowned most horribly and drew a long breath as though his feelings threatened to overwhelm him entirely. "oh! we landed that gent behind the bars all right," jack remarked, taking things much more coolly than the excitable one, "but it's hard to keep a man with a big wad of long-green shut up--he hires a celebrated lawyer, gets out on heavy bail, has his case postponed on one account or another until witnesses disappear and the public forgets what it's all about. like as not he's as free as either of us, only it may be he's forbidden to leave the state of florida pending his trial--you notice the message was dispatched from jacksonville." "from his getting on our track i kinder guess the gent must feel a bit peeved at the firm o' ralston an' perkiser. brotherly kindness, eh?--take him for a nice long ride--how swell that'd be--an' all jest to please mr. oswald kearns, the high light o' most o' the schemes hatched up to run in case goods from bimimi along the florida shore." then perk forgot his indignation long enough to grin as though the humorous side of the case struck him. "such great luck i never did see," he burst out, "to think o' you pickin' up his telegram so pat after we'd kicked him an' his slinkin' pal off the lot. that's what i'd call incriminatin' evidence, partner and if ever the case is called an' we're sent down to florida to tell 'bout our part o' the mess, this message ought to make the jury sit up an' take notice, sure as i'm born it ought" "i'll keep it safe, you can well believe, perk and i'm not bothering my head about those two sneaks for they're not apt to give us any further trouble after what happened to them tonight. when this mr. barkus discovers how he must have dropped his fine telegram, he'll suspect it fell into our hands and the chances are he'll give us a wide berth the rest of our stay in this burg." "jest so jack, an' let's hope we're goin' to climb out o' here right soon now. the dirty scoundrels--wantin' to give you a _ride_, was they? which means in these days take a feller off into the country, knock him on the head an' dump him out on the road like he was a log. zowie! times is out o' joint strikes me, when these pesky gangs think nothin' o' murderin' a man 'cause they don't like the color o' his necktie." cyclone had listened to this exchange of conversation between his two companions and the look on his face plainly told that he could not grasp what it was all about. "i'd like to get a grip on what all this clatter's about, boys, if neither of you object. i ought to be starting back to hollywood in the morning for they're shouting and sending hot wires telling me i'm holding up the show; but since i'm crazy to see that boat of yours, and you promised me a little gallop up among the clouds, i'm bound to wait over till afternoon, no matter what happens to the bunch on the coast--they c'n use my understudy till i choose to lope along and be hanged to 'em. now, what about putting me wise to the game that was sprung on you tonight?" "nothing to hinder our telling you what we ran up against down in florida last winter," remarked jack and as they settled back in their chairs in comfort he explained all about the mixup as recorded in the previous volume of this series. cyclone proved an attentive listener, eagerly drinking in the particulars--nodding his head approvingly at certain points that appealed especially to his discriminating mind until the finishing stroke had been laid bare when he jumped up to shake hands boisterously with both jack and perk and to give vent to his feelings in words. "by the great horn spoon! so that's the bully sort of life you fellers in the secret service lead, is it?" he exclaimed with flashing eyes and an expression of eagerness on his enraptured face. "some fine day, after i've had a few words with my director and told him where he gets off, i'll be hanged if i don't strike out for washington and try to bore my way into the game you're following--suits my spirit to the dot--lots of adventure, fair pay and the thrill of turning back these smart alecs who think they own the world because they've got a speed boat and the jack to buy a load of hard stuff in the bahamas that they figure on landing along our coast." "that mightn't be such a bad idea, cyclone, for a man built like you and who yearns for excitement," observed jack sympathetically, for he could understand just how the other must feel. "when you get to that point of kicking over the traces in the picture game let me know and perhaps i can speak a good word for you at headquarters. they're always in need of the right sort of men. remember that, will you, cyclone?" "you bet i will jack, and i mean every word i say, too. i've never gone up in an airship yet, but the desire's been gripping me a heap lately and perhaps, after i make the try tomorrow morning, that you've so kindly promised me, the fever'll get so high i just won't be able to hold back any longer." "that depends on how you come through your examination," jack plainly explained. "a lot of boys have an itch to make the riffle, but are turned down because they lack some one of a dozen requirements that are positively essential these modern days to get a pilot's license. but as far as i can see, you ought to pass with flying colors--no joke intended either." they sat there chatting for several hours. cyclone's enthusiasm fairly bubbled over at times as he listened to some of the accounts of adventures that had befallen both jack and perk in days gone by. "the more i hear from you boys the sicker i get over the way i'm wasting my young life with foolish cowboy stunts and make believe fights in the pictures. it's pretty much a fake business and gets on my nerves--even many of the most thrilling scenes are fakes of the worst kind--pulling the wool over the eyes of the simple public. i got a notion i'm built for something that's genuine and not a fraud--when you lads get into a mess it's the real thing and you can put your heart in the action without a director yelling at you and ordering it all done over--sometimes as many as five times, till his royal highness is satisfied and you're all worn to a shred with the hard work. bah! me for the open and a life of genuine adventure, every time." "je-ru-salem crickets! but you have got it bad, partner!" croaked perk grinning happily as he spoke. "goin' are you, cyclone?--well, we'll pick you up about nine on the way to the flyin' field. so-long--mighty glad we run across you tonight and had a chance to see how you work, them fists o' yourn. the service could make good use o' a few real scrappers and i'd say the chance o' you buttin' in is gilt-edged." so closed a day that was not without its redeeming features, even perk being satisfied that things were moving along the line of adventure and excitement. vi cyclone proves game in the morning after they had partaken of a late breakfast, jack and his pal stepped around the corner to get a taxi, pick up cyclone as per arrangement and proceed out to the flying field. "for one thing," perk was remarking as they stepped gaily along, "we ain't noticed any sign o' them gringoes we licked so neat last night. guess they had their little tummies filled up with excitement and right now may be rubbin' arnica on their hurts. wow! but i'd hate to've got them socks cyclone passed on to his party--must have near broke his nose for i saw his face was gettin' fair bloody when he was snatched up and tossed into the car." they found the ex-fighter and cow puncher waiting anxiously for them, he having been abroad early and had his customary morning meal. later on they arrived at the landing field and found everything "okay" as perk put it. he had confessed to a little anxiety concerning the safety of their ship but the man they had hired to stand guard had not seen or heard anything suspicious during the entire night. "huh! guess they feel too blamed sore this mornin' to be up an' around," was the sensible conclusion arrived at by perk after his fears had been dissipated and in this summing up of the conditions he was seconded by jack, likewise their mutual friend, cyclone davis. it was jack's custom to always have his ship in condition for an immediate flight--there could be no telling how soon an order might reach them giving directions for a hasty takeoff with their goal any old place as perk was accustomed to remarking off-hand. consequently there was always a full tank of gas on board together with plenty of lubricating oil and all manner of essential things so necessary to a successful flight. of course, as a rule they could drop down at some wayside landing field for the purpose of replenishing their stores since the whole country was becoming dotted with such necessary places, some of them gorgeously fitted up with everything in the way of landing lights, extra hangars for visiting ships and even service plants for supplying gasoline with little effort. cyclone displayed no actual concern as he was secured in his seat by a stout leather strap, having also had the parachute harness fastened to his back. he watched every move of his two experienced companions with eagerness and asked not a few pertinent questions, thus showing his desire to know all there was connected with the flying game. then the pilot gave her the gun and they started to move along with constantly accelerated speed until presently jack lifted his charge and they no longer found themselves in contact with the earth but mounting toward the blue sky overhead. up, up they climbed with great spirals marking their course--the earth below began to lose its individual proportions and looked like an immense checkerboard to the thrilled cowpuncher. cyclone could be seen twisting his head this way and that, eager to see everything. perk, noting this, nodded his head as though feeling positive the other was going to fall in love with flying. dashing across the plains on a cow pony, pursued by made-up indians and all that regular sort of stuff must seem mighty tame to him after moving through the air at the rate of possibly a hundred and fifty miles an hour with the motor and propeller keeping up a constant roaring sound and all with the consciousness that he was several miles above the earth, amidst floating fleecy clouds, with even the high-flying eagle far, far beneath. jack took special pains to give the ambitious comrade such a ride as he could never have imagined, even in his wildest dreams--he put the new boat through all manner of ordinary stunts, even turning over so that they kept going ahead at a fair pace while flying upside-down--he went through dizzy revolutions, banked sharply and carried on generally as skillful pilots seem to take great delight in doing. all this never seemed to bother cyclone a particle--perhaps his experience as a cowboy may have assisted him to meet the numerous thrills without quailing. of course he could not talk with either of his friends for hearing was next to impossible since jack was not making use of the silencer that had been made a part of the "furniture" of the new ship--but he nodded his head joyfully whenever he found perk watching him with a question in his eye. the two pilots had their head-phones in position, for they would no doubt like to hold communication from time to time. thus it happened that jack, chancing to think of something, addressed his chum. "forgot to ask you whether they'd learned anything about our lost friend, buddy warner--how about it, perk?" the other mechanically shook his head in the negative. "nothing doin' along them lines, sorry to say partner," he explained. "to be sure there was a'plenty o' rumors, but the paper said nobody had learned a blamed thing that'd stand the wash. afraid buddy's gone under an' that the on'y thing left to do is to come across his crashed boat in some canyon off there in the rockies. tough, all right, but then us flyers jest got to look at sech mishaps as all in the line o' duty--it's like bein' a soldier all over again, ready to start out mornin's without a ghost o' an idee we'll be back to eat another meal or write a last letter home." "i'm mighty sorry to hear that, perk. buddy was a fine boy and everybody liked him. that old mother of his, too, it may be the death of her. hurts to feel that no matter how many pilots may be scouring the land they just can't seem to dig up even a little clue to tell where he dropped out of sight and never was heard from again--not even a flower could be dropped on his grave if they wanted to." jack had taken a wild ride through cloudland, going something like two hundred miles and then swinging around to make the return trip after that he had climbed to a ceiling of something like twenty thousand feet until they were all shivering with the frigid air. still cyclone never flinched--indeed, he did not even display the slightest inclination to beg jack to drop down where it was warmer--in fact he showed all the signs of one who would eventually make an exceptionally good flyer, could he but pass his examination successfully. it was close to high noon when they landed after the most thrilling morning in all cyclone's checkered life. before he said goodbye to his two pals he squeezed their hands, and with a face illumined said in his determined way: "me for a pilot's license, boys and when i've done my fifty hours of solo flying and get my papers, behold me making a bee-line for washington and breaking into uncle sam's secret service corps. i'm a fade-out as a movie actor, and i feel that my star of destiny calls on me to be a cloud chaser, getting after law breakers in the air across the land from the atlantic seaboard to the gold coast; ditto on the sea to the ends of the earth. wish me luck, fellows and here's hoping that some day we'll all be pals in a great game. if ever you get to los angeles drop in and see me at hollywood--if i'm still on deck and doing my little stunts rescuing fair maidens and beating the villains black and blue--all in your eye, boys." they were sorry to see him go, for cyclone had turned out to be a most enjoyable companion as jack told perk more than a few times. since the morning flight had covered so much in the way of stunt flying, speed testing and altitude climbing, jack decided there was hardly any necessity for their going out again in the afternoon. so they figured on taking things comfortably in their room, catching up with their sadly neglected correspondence, and even getting in a nap or two while waiting for their usual supper hour to come along. the sun was well down in the western heavens when a knock on their door caused jack to answer it. perk could hear him speaking to the lady from whom they hired the room, then jack came back examining a yellow bit of paper, meanwhile giving perk a peculiar look that somehow caused the other to jump up excitedly and exclaim: "hot ziggetty dog! that strikes me like a wire, partner, tell me, has our order to strike out and get busy come along--gee whiz! i'm trembling all over with eagerness to know what our next line's goin' to be!" vii they are off! jack lost no time in answering the pleading look in perk's eyes. "order's come at last, brother and we're due to skip out of this burg just as soon as we can get a bite to eat." "where to, jack--north, east, south or west?" babbled the pleased perk. "looks like it might be the last you named," he was told. "and if it ain't a dead secret would you mind tellin' me what sort of a jaunt we're pushed on to this time--is it to be a hunt, partner?" "i'd say it was, and with a vengeance too," admitted jack, still holding his chum over imaginary hot coals in that he declined to hasten with the information so urgently desired. "so that's all settled, hey? and what are we supposed to be huntin', if it's just the same to you to cough up that necessary information--more rum-chasers--bogus money-makers--check raisers, mebbe--runaway cashier with all the bank funds--which is it buddy?" "never came within a mile of the right answer," jack assured him with one of his puzzling smiles. "fact is, it's a pilot we're ordered to fetch in." "pilot--say, do we have to shoot out to sea after a steamship that's carried off its harbor pilot--such rotten luck, when we expected something real big to take up our time and labor--shucks!" "wait, you jump at conclusions all too soon, perk my boy. there happen to be several other kinds of pilots besides those who fetch ocean steamships in and out of new york harbor or the golden gate at san francisco--for instance those on river steamboats, it might be, or those of airplanes!" "airships did you say, jack?" roared perk, his eyes widening while he clutched the hand that held the telegram as though tempted to try and read the printed words he could just manage to see upon the sheet. "yes, air-mail pilot in the bargain," jack fired at him. "hot ziggetty dog! do you mean a _missing_ mail pilot and his name is----" "buddy warner--that's right perk, no other." the most ecstatic expression imaginable crossed the face of the amiable perk to proclaim better than any words could ever tell just what he thought of the great news he had just heard. "i'm _so_ glad, partner--nobody could've fetched me better news than what you're telling me right now. if i was asked what i'd like best to do--jest what line o' work i'd be crazy to handle, i'd say it was to take a look in at every pesky canyon and sinkhole along the mountain ranges in hopes o' findin' that fine lad an' fetch him back home to his old mammy. and now you're givin' me my best wish right off the bat. go on an' tell me what it says, that wire they sent you." "that we are to drop anything and everything else and start out to help find buddy warner; they must think a heap of that mail pilot for our boss to issue such a broad order as that. it means we've got to jump off before night sets in and head for the western town where he was last seen. it also means we'll be on the job for days, or anyway until we get orders it's no use combing the gullies and ravines and canyons any longer for the missing pilot must be dead." "can't strike off any too soon to please me, jack. i'd even go without any grub if by saving an hour we could have a better chance o' strikin' pay dirt an' turnin' him up alive." "no such desperate hurry as all that," the other assured him to put a quietus on his nervous desire to be winging their way toward the scene of all the excitement and thus add one more ship to the flotilla already seeking information concerning the whereabouts of the missing mail pilot. "also, perk, as nobody knows when we may get another chance to eat, it would be wise for us to take advantage of the present opportunity as well as lay in a little grub for emergencies. for all any one can say to the contrary it may be our hard luck to get caught in an air pocket and take a tumble just as buddy probably did when such things would come in mighty handy. i'm leaving that little task for you to handle, perk, because you're right clever when it's grub that's needed." "yeah, i always aim to be that way an' i take it as a compliment you're payin' me when you talk that way. nobody c'n amount to thirty cents when he hasn't stoked his engine properly with fuel." "i don't know whether you're on to it or not, brother," pursued jack as they began to hastily assemble their few possessions preparatory to stepping out; "but i've been clipping every account i could find in the papers you fetched home, covering buddy's dropping out of sight." "huh! i sure did take notice of the fact, but never dreamin' we'd have a peep-in at this wide search. i jest guessed you was enough int'rested to want to compare these here wise-cracks about the cause o' his trouble with what it really must a'been, in case they found the remains o' his crate in some canyon or gully." "that was one reason," admitted jack candidly, "but somehow, though i never let on to you, i seemed to have a sort of feeling we might be working on that mystery sooner or later--you might call it an _inspiration_ and let it go at that." "glory be jack, an' what have you got in that wise coco o' yourn, if it's all right for you to up an' spill the game?" "some time while we're on our way," the other explained just as if he had the thing all laid out, even to the smallest particulars, "while you're running the ship, i mean to go carefully over those newspaper reporters' accounts and try to figure out just what could have happened to bring about buddy's disappearance--also, find what sort of weather he must have struck right after jumping off from his last port of call to drop mail sacks and pick up others." perk thereupon wagged his head as though he began to understand what a skillful way his chum had of getting at the "meat in the cocoanut." "no wildcat skirmishin', an' heatin' about the bush for _you_, eh partner?" he blurted out in sincere admiration. "an' i'd wager all i got in my jeans you're bound to hit on the real facts when everything's figgered up." "don't be too sure about that brother," advised jack, shaking his head as he spoke, "i'll certainly do my level best, but you never can tell how the cat's going to jump. it's one thing to theorize and quite another to hit on what's the truth. i'll try and separate the wheat from the chaff and by degrees build up a little story of my own that may, and again may not, cover the ground. now let's clear out of this after we've paid our landlady what we owe for our room, and thank her for being so kind to a couple of forlorn bachelor flyers." this was soon done and shortly afterwards they sat down to have a last meal in their favorite restaurant, perk meanwhile having laid in a certain amount of supplies in the way of such food as they could take care of while on the wing. then they hastened to the flying field to have their ship hauled out of the hangar, tuned up for the last time and give them an opportunity to "kick-off," as perk was pleased to call it, before darkness fell. perk secretly had been entertaining a little fear lest at the last minute something not down on the bills might spring a leak and bring about an unfortunate delay in their departure--so much time had already passed since the disappearance of the air-mail pilot that another six or ten hours must seem deplorable--but fortunately nothing untoward came along. the ship was trundled to a nearby point where jack figured they should take off, basing his decision on the way the wind happened to be blowing and after a brief examination they pronounced their air steed to be in perfect trim. jack shook hands with the late guardian of their plane as he slipped an extra bill into his possession so too, did perk thank him warmly concerning the way he had performed his duty for since those enemies had failed in their attempt to "take them for a ride," it had always been possible for them to cripple the new cloud chaser so that something dreadful was likely to happen when they were a mile from the ground. nothing now remained for them to do save settle down in their seats--they had donned their dungarees, fixed their helmets and chute packs and in other ways prepared for a long flight into the west. already it had grown dusk, although the sun could not be far down below the horizon and very likely they would glimpse his smiling face again when they had climbed toward cloud-land so jack gave her the gun and with a roar they sped down the field. viii birds of a feather just as they had expected they soon glimpsed the descending sun when they had attained a certain altitude and at the same time the earth far below was almost lost to sight, since the night haze was settling down. perk, having nothing else of importance to do, was arranging their headphone apparatus so that in case they wished to make any sort of talk it could be readily carried out in spite of the continuous clamor surrounding them. this new ship was also supplied with that recent invention known as a silencer--long used in connection with firearms by the way, and now applied to the motor of a plane with successful results--jack had not thought it necessary to bring it into play since it retarded the speed of the ship to some extent and there was no necessity for demanding a cessation of the dreadful clatter and droning. jack had headed directly into the west as soon as their craft attained a sufficient altitude. he had his chart on the airways well studied, and knew just where and when they could strike a line of beacons, such as have been arranged for air mail pilots in their night journeys to and fro with their complement of letter sacks and possibly express matter. after a short interval the sun disappeared even for these high flyers and the stars gradually began to dot the blue heavens overhead. "if you don't mind perk," the head pilot was saying, as he turned on his cabin light, "i'd like you to take her over for a spell. somehow i'm anxious to go over those clippings and make a start at laying out our plan of campaign. we've got nothing as yet to go by except what those newspaper boys gathered up so as to spin their fairy yarns--later we're bound to strike pay dirt on our own account, and can do a little building with a foundation of real stuff, not speculation and romance behind it." that suited perk to a fraction, for truth to tell he was floundering in a bog himself, not knowing how they were to get down to "hard pan" and be able to lay out their course with some show of reason. he had become quite adept at the old dodge of "leave it to george" and filled with confidence in his chum's ability to handle any sort of situation, he believed he displayed more or less wisdom in not attempting to wrestle with mysteries beyond his limited capacity. for a long time jack read on, tore up a number of the slips of newspaper stuff, laid others aside as if for a second application, made a number of notes on a little pad he kept handy and seemed so much in earnest that perk kept tabs of his actions with glistening eyes. in his mind jack already must have "struck oil" and doubtless arrived at some specious solution of the riddle that had the entire country guessing--what had happened to buddy warner, the best liked air-mail pilot in the whole region west of the mississippi--where had he crashed--was he still alive or had he followed the long line of famous flyers who had "gone west" after attempting to put through some dazzling exploit that would have brought immortal fame if only it had succeeded? all this while the plane roared on, slipping through space at the rate of something close to a hundred and twenty miles an hour for this was an occasion when speed meant everything. perk too rejoiced in handling the throttle of an up-to-date ship that put it all over the ancient type of plane which he had been wont to employ when going forth so flippantly to offer battle to those pestering hun pilots when the war was on in france. "hot ziggetty dog partner! you sure have had a big session with them news articles an' i notice how you threw a heap o' them overboard like they didn't 'mount to a row o' beans." perk said this when he saw jack shake his head as though he might be somewhat puzzled and needed more or less reflection so as to straighten things out. "after all, i didn't get even half as much genuine information from the bunch as i hoped i would," the other told him, though there was no hint of bitter disappointment in his manner of speaking, only disgust that so much could be written, founded on such minute real facts. "these newspaper boys can spin the most gorgeous yarns on a speck of truth--it's their business to stretch things to the breaking point you know, partner, and they sure do that. all that i discarded and threw over the side was just chaff, without a single sound kernel of wheat in it. when later on, after i've had time to digest things a bit when i go over what's left, chances are there'll be another sheaf of clippings go bad and be tossed out. some of those stories were the bunk, made up in the reporter's skillful brain out of nothing at all, even if interesting to the general reader. in these days the story's the main thing editors demand." "yeah! i kinder guessed that way myself," remarked perk, trying hard to seem disgusted, "though i own up they did make what you might call interestin' readin' that might pull the wool over the eyes o' most folks. an' what did you think was the worst story in the bunch, jack old hoss?" "i don't know if you read it, perk, for it was in a paper i bought myself and which you hadn't seen," jack told him. "seems to me i do 'member you fetched one home and i lost track o' it in all the rush an bustle, jack. tear in an' tell a feller what it all was about, won't you?" "this was a letter received from a pilot who had formerly worked on the same shift as buddy warner--it went on to broadly hint the boy had some kind of secret enemy and was deeply concerned--the writer of the letter couldn't say positively what sort of trouble the missing pilot was up against, but declared it his belief that buddy had met with some kind of foul play--that this other person might be interested in buddy's disappearance!" "rats! i don't like the way he put that stuff over!" scoffed perk with considerable indignation and concern. "clean as a hound's tooth that was buddy warner and every one who knew him would say the same. i don't believe the cub had an enemy in the world--i'd call that a nasty makeup o' a crooked yarn." "i'm with you there brother," said jack firmly. "but you can understand how eager some people are to get into print--they see an opening to break into some matter that's gripped the public attention and just yearn to share in the spotlight. we'll have a chance to dig out the truth for ourselves before a great while, if any sort of luck helps us to grab the right cards." jack thereupon put away the few clippings he had kept and was soon in charge of the stick while his partner occupied himself with some of the ordinary duties pertaining to the observer and navigator of a double-seat air craft when on the wing. the motor continued to function to a point close to perfection, showing how marvelous the skill of those mechanics to whom the task of building an engine fitted for the work of driving a heavier than air ship at an amazing pace through space must be. the more jack and perk saw of their new boat, the higher their sincere admiration soared. if ever perfection was reached in such things it surely must have been when they put this engine together with an accuracy that compared favorably with the works of the finest and most expensive watch that ever came out of switzerland. "no necessity for both of us to stick it out when the going is as smooth as it is right now," suggested jack, "later on we may strike rough sledding when both of us will have to keep on deck for many hours. suppose perk, you curl up and take a snooze. i'll promise to wake you up inside of three hours when you can take charge while i hit the hay--how about that arrangement, boy?" "oh! it's okay any old way with me, partner," replied the other readily enough for truth to tell perk was commencing to yawn and show other signs of being sleepy, though he would willingly have stayed on the job until morning had there been any necessity for doing so. "just ten p. m. right now brother--about half-past twelve, then, i'll give you a nudge which will mean your watch has arrived while i get a couple of hours off duty to freshen up. everything looks up to snuff so far buddy, and let's hope it will keep on that way right along." so perk settled down as comfortably as the limited accommodations allowed while jack continued to watch his indicators on the black dashboard and by the exercise of continual care avoid such traps as tricky air pockets, such as might fall in their way. ix the threatening crash as time passed jack continued to sit there in charge, frequently glancing over the side to see if there were any signs of the swirling beacons especially designed to assist air mail pilots on their way to some distant goal. he had figured out that they must, sooner or later, come upon the line of such beacons and once found it would not be very difficult to continue following them during the balance of the night. in the end he was greatly pleased to discover a faint light ahead--in about ten seconds he glimpsed it again and when this happened for the third time his last doubt was removed. as he passed far above the revolving light he changed his course a little knowing the points of the compass the line of beacons followed, he must set out to follow them for unless he managed to do the right thing he could not possibly come across the next whirling glow. three, four of the friendly lights designated as "guide-posts of the air" he passed and all seemed going just as he would wish, when there came a sudden and unwelcome change. perk, sleeping just behind the pilot, felt something come in contact with his arm and he instinctively understood it was jack giving him the prearranged nudge to let him know his rest period had expired and that it was up to him to take his turn at the controls. "huh! i get you, partner," he mumbled, not yet thoroughly aroused, "watchman, how goes the night, eh jack, old hoss?" "not so good," the other told him. "i swan now, if this ain't a punk deal!" ventured perk, in a tone of injured innocence, "when did this beat in on us, buddy?" "it's just plain unadulterated fog," jack told him in a matter-of-fact tone as though such a thing was to be expected in a night's run where every possible type of country, from prairie to mountains, could be met up with and the contrary streams of air were favorable to heavy fogs. perk first of all took a single look over the side. "ginger pop! a reg'lar pea-soup that's been dished up for us, it sure is, partner!" he exclaimed, the head phones still being in use so that talking was no trouble at all even though the racket all around was deafening. "some fog, that's right perk," admitted the unmoved pilot "the one you're mixed up with always does seem to be the worst ever." "how long we been kickin' through this mess?" demanded perk. "oh, something like half an hour more or less i figure," said jack. "an' it's now jest three in the mornin'--meanin' some two and a half more hours before the first peep o' day." he leaned forward, the better to survey the altitude dial in order to learn how high jack had been flying. "four thousand feet an' more, eh?" perk remarked, "i guess that might be fairly safe, unless there happened to be a stiff mountain range standin' across our course. want me to keep that right along, boss?" "for another half hour and then we've got to climb as far again--can't take any chance in a mess like this--i've always got that transcontinental air transport liner, the _san francisco_ in my mind when i strike into a heavy fog."[ ] perk made a queer sound with his lips as if to indicate that his feelings ran along the same groove. indeed, many an air pilot has had that same terrible tragedy flash before him when plunging onward through an opaque wall of fog, unable to even see his own wingtips. "i'm on partner," said perk as he took over the stick. "meanin' to get seven winks o' sleep, ain't you?" "not just now," responded jack, "truth is i'm not a bit sleepy so i'll just take things easy and do some thinking while you run the ship." "expected to meet up with some muck like this i guess, eh, partner?" "sure did perk, only not quite so soon," came the undisturbed reply. "it seems there's been an unusual amount of dirty weather out this way lately and we've just slammed into this fog as a feeler. about four, start to head toward that higher ceiling--no particular hurry i'd say, according to the chart." "okay boss, i got you," with which perk relapsed in silence while the plane continued to speed along with its monotonous roar and hum. if anything the fog was growing thicker, perk made up his mind, although he really had nothing to afford any comparison since they were completely shut in as by a circular wall, not even a solitary star being in evidence and certainly not the faintest glimmer of a moving beacon down below where the unseen earth lay. at such a time as this the air pilot finds himself depending wholly on the accuracy of his instruments, backed by his ability to read them without the slightest error. perk was well up in all this and had no doubt of his judgment in carrying on. flying blind is what these gallant sailors of the airways call such a condition, though the only recognition of the encompassing danger is a cutting down of their swift pace. the consequent thrill that accompanies such a voyage through a sea of fog comes to every pilot; although in time they become so accustomed to the conditions that it fails to affect them as in the beginning. should the bravest of men, though a beginner in aviation, ever experience such a wild night ride through space and heavy fog it would give him a sense of anticipation that could come through no other source, whether on sea or land. once, when there chanced to be a little change in the scant night breeze, perk lifted his head as if to listen but before he could decide whether he had actually heard something or had been deceived by a strut snapping back, the feeble air again fell away and left him groping in ignorance, not wholly satisfied, yet unable to find anything on which to hang a conjecture. "rats! you must be away off your base perk," he told himself chidingly, "huh! not a ghost o' a chance in ten thousand--yet it sure did sound like a ship in action. must be hearin' things again in the night." he had slackened the pace somewhat, thinking of that dreadful crash down amidst the lava beds of the wildest country in the whole southwest, mind pictures that made him willing to consider safety first before speed. perhaps it was fate that made perk for once conquer that reckless spirit of his for there could be no telling what the consequences might have been otherwise. again he lifted his head and assumed the strained attitude that went with listening intently--the roar of their engine's exhaust seemed to eclipse any other sound and as if seized with a sudden inspiration, perk reached out and brought the silencer into play. this had an immediate effect--and then too it caused jack to take notice, for he called out: "what's the big idea partner--trying things out are you?" "listen, jack--don't you hear it ahead there?" almost shrieked the one at the stick. a few seconds passed during which jack must have been straining his ears to the utmost. then he gave a cry that bubbled forth in a mixture of incredulity and alarm--the only time on record that perk could remember jack showing such an unusual emotion. "it's a ship, perk!" he shrilled. "you bet it is!" echoed the other, dismay in his thick voice. "dead ahead of us too and bearing this way," continued jack as the portentous sounds grew louder with each passing second. their own motor had been throttled down to a mere whisper and thus any other sound was due to be heard. a few more dreadful seconds passed with that throbbing sound growing more and more threatening. "must be the east bound air mail!" jack hastily exclaimed, "make a nose dive partner, and in a hurry too, for she's right on us!" ----- footnote : september, , this wonderful up-to-date giant air liner with eight persons aboard, became lost in a storm and fog and crashed headlong into a rocky cliff in the black rock valley, some twenty-six miles from gallup, new mexico, exploded and burned with a total loss of ship, crew and five passengers. the tragedy of this once volcanic district sent a wave of horror throughout the entire country and proved a setback to the cause of aviation. jack only voiced the feelings of nearly every pilot in saying what he did. x flying blind instantly the head of the ship was pointed downward and they started to coast--even as this maneuver was in progress and the roar became deafening, both of them caught a fragmentary glimpse of bright lights passing just overhead. it had indeed been a close shave, for only that perk proved so clever at the stick they must have met the mail ship head on with the inevitable result that yet another tragedy of the air would be chronicled in the morning newspapers with scare headlines fully an inch high. perk had lost his voice due to the sudden nerve strain and even ordinarily cool jack ralston waited a brief spell, in order to insure proper breathing before trying to speak. "reckon you got all the thrill you could stand that time, perk!" he finally remarked with a little quiver in his voice. "beat anything i ever stacked up against--that's right partner," perk frankly admitted, doubtless taking in a deep breath of relief. "never might happen again in twenty years," said jack, as if that feature of the near tragedy affected him most of all. "with all this wide space all around us, just to think of two airships heading straight at each other in a fog--who says now we're not watched over by a special providence?" "you said it buddy," perk agreed. "that sure was a time when that muffler paid a big interest on its cost an' i kinder guess saved our lives in the bargain. it pays to advertise an' also to pick up the newest fixin's along the line o' aviation discoveries an' inventions." "just so perk. if our engine had kept thundering away right along we might not have been warned in time to get out of the road and let that stunt-flying air mail pilot squeeze past. he ought to be reported for hustling along like that in such a thick soup; but since we're still alive and kicking, i reckon we'll just have to let it drop at that." "mebbe you're right there, jack old bean--strikes me we were hittin' it up like hot cakes in the bargain an' not so innocent after all. i'm a'wonderin' if he got wind o' the close call he had--must have lamped our lights as we ducked and went down like a bullet or the stick o' a rocket that'd exploded up near the stars. shucks! i'd jest like to meet up with that guy sometime an' ask him what his feelin' was--bet you he was as scart as we felt when he whizzed right over our heads." "it might be the part of wisdom to climb to a higher level now, partner," hinted jack. "unless i miss my guess that chap was dropping, as if he'd come down from the upper regions, which gives me an idea he knew where he was and had been keeping a big ceiling so as to avoid butting into some mountain peak." "here goes then," and with the words perk commenced to climb, the new ship being so constructed as to be a great improvement over the old type of plane, able to ascend at a steep angle without any of those formerly necessary laborious spirals. at the height of four thousand feet he again leveled off and kept to the course jack had marked out. perhaps they were over some air mail line with its friendly flashing beacons winking far below; but that deadly wall of fog lying under their keel effectually prevented them from taking advantage of any such guide posts along the way; nor would it have availed them greatly could they have dropped down to within a few hundred feet of the earth, for even at such a distance it must have been utterly out of the question for the keenest vision to have picked up a beacon or even detect its flash because of the curtain that fairly smothered them on all sides, above and below. they no longer conversed, even perk understanding how serious their condition must be and holding his usually ready tongue in check, while jack took it out in tense thinking, watching the various dials and figuring just which way they would be going in case of drift. so half an hour crept by, with no change whatever in the conditions by which they were surrounded. it was now growing most unbearable, so monotonous, so very tiresome. a heavy fog is hard enough to bear at any time but when it stretches along hour after hour, without the slightest sign of any diminuation, it is bound to get on the stoutest nerves and produce symptoms bordering on a panic. "perhaps we might find some relief if we kept going up," suggested jack after some time had passed. "it sort of stifles me to keep in such a thick mess as this, growing worse all the while." "huh, if i wasn't jest thinkin' that way myself partner," perk declared, thus showing that it was a case of "me too." they kept on climbing, although neither could discover much difference in that miserable opaque blanket. it began to grow much colder too, although they managed to don some heavier coats which would keep them from feeling the change in weather conditions to any extent. "don't seem to be much use i guess perk, in all my experience i can't say i ever ran across a fog that expended such a distance above the earth. most times you can get out of the ditch by climbing, but here we are at a thirteen thousand foot ceiling and it's as black as ever. no use trying to get above the line--it just can't be done." "right you are partner," admitted perk, leveling off, "though i must say the breathin' seems a shade easier than down below." "we'll stick it out here for a while," jack went on to say, "and it may be that the coming dawn may bring some sort of a breeze along to scatter this beastly stuff and let us see what's what." "anyway," perk was saying, as if in relief, "at such a height we ain't likely to rub noses with any rock pinnacle and to our everlastin' grief in the bargain. the air's like enough free of mountain peaks around this section o' country, which is some comfort to a fog-bound pair o' ginks, i admit." it was by this time about five o'clock and perk was banking heavily on the fact that inside of another half hour, at that extreme height, they were likely to discover the advance couriers of approaching dawn commencing to paint the eastern heavens with fingers of delicate shaded colors. "got any sort o' idee where we might be right now, jack?" "why, sitting tight in a nice fog blanket i'd say, brother," replied the one who was now at the controls, having some time back made the exchange, easily enough accomplished without the necessity of changing seats. "jokin' aside, jack, i mean what section o' country might be away down below-stairs where there's land and green things--how i'd like to rest my tired peepers on somethin' _green_ for a change." "i'm not as sure of my figures as i'd like to be perk, for it's been hours since we saw anything at all except this fog; but we've covered a lot of space and must be well on our way to the hunting ground we started for. wait until we get out of this mess and then it can be settled as soon as we strike any town, village or even hamlet, that'll give us a hint concerning our bearings." "i'm bothered a little bit just the same," complained perk. "what about, old pal?" demanded jack quickly. "what if somethin' should happen to our ship--we're a long way from any place an' well, 'fore you took over the stick jack, seemed to me there was a bit o' a holdup to the slick way the boat had been whooping things up--i might a'been mistaken, but she seemed to be wallowin' some, like she didn't just feel pleased over the cargo she had to carry." "perk, now that you mention it i do believe you're right--i'm not pushing her much, but she does act sort of sulky, as if tired of this thing--not that we could blame her for feeling that way. tell you what, partner--suppose you climb out and take a look around to see if everything seems okay." accordingly perk, as if sensing some hidden motive in what the other had just remarked, left his seat and made his way out to the port wing--the ship was swaying more or less, dipping and nosing upward as jack held her to it, but perk being quite accustomed to such things had no trouble whatever. a minute later and he came hurrying back to attach his earphones again and cry out in a tone filled with more or less excitement: "jack, there is something the matter for sure--fact is there's ice formin' on both wings, and right heavy at that!" xi an unsolved mystery "take over the stick again perk," said jack, apparently not very much astounded by the serious information his mate had just given him, "i think i'd like to have a look myself; i've never had any great trouble with ice since i've not been much of a hand to soar up twenty or thirty thousand feet for an altitude record. nothing much to worry about partner. at the worst we will have to drop lower down so the warmer air will melt the stuff. a ship like this can stand considerable in the way of a cargo, though it isn't just the proper caper to stow the load on the wings--far better to have it somewhere inside the fuselage. here goes!" whereupon jack crawled out of the cabin and started to make a close investigation while perk did the honors along the steering line, more or less eager to hear his mate's report when he came back from his little tour. "it's all right brother," he heard jack saying, even before the other regained his customary front seat--"nothing to bother about and we'll soon knock spots out of what ice has already gathered. pretty snappy out here, i notice. we'll drop down to a more comfy level and take chances with being suffocated by that gruelly stuff. go to it sonny, i'm inside the safety line." down they went in long slides one after another until the thirteen thousand became ten, then seven and there jack told his comrade to "hold everything" and cut down the speed a bit. "daylight's about due i figure," he observed, "and once we cut loose from this blank curtain and pick up some visibility, we'll not have to feel nervous about some of those rocky snags that lie in ambush to impale venturesome aviators when off their course and lost in a maze." perk soon afterward realized that what his mate had remarked must be true, for sure enough over in the east he could manage to detect some faint signs of a break in the hitherto impenetrable gloom surrounding them, positive evidence of the fact that morning was "just around the corner." "what's more," perk told himself, in jubilation, "i guess now i c'n feel a little waft o' a breeze startin' up. soon as that gets goin' it's goodbye to mister fog. whew! mebbe i won't be tickled pink when that's come to pass cause i'm crazy to set eyes on dear old mother earth again. yes sir, the pesky old fog is commencin' to move out--jest keep it up, for you never will be missed." "all over but the shouting perk," remarked jack just then as if he could have understood the tenor of the other's thoughts. "inside of another half hour we'll be free from the stuff--wow! i never want to run through such a siege as this again, particularly in this wild western country where peaks are in the majority and every one looking to stab some poor wandering airship." "i kinder guess you're itchin' to get our bearings again jack?" asked the walking question mark who was never really happy except when in a position to toss queries at some one. "naturally so," jack told him point blank. "we had to get twisted up more or less during that drive through fogland, and the sooner i can pick up my bearings the better i'll be pleased. if you ask me offhand where we might be, i'd say within a few hundred miles of the spot where buddy warner took off on his last trip." "good enough!" crowed perk, "nothin' like making things fly when you're about it--no beatin' around the bush for us, partner. then if we pick our course as per the information that leaked from that airport where he left his mail sack an' took on another batch, why we might begin to keep a watchful eye on the ground in hopes o' makin' some sorter discovery--is that right?" "you can begin using the glasses just as soon as we get our first glimpse of green spots below. later on we'll drop down until we're not more than three hundred feet, more or less, above the treetops--if there are any tall trees in this section of country, which might be a question--possibly nothing in that line but scrub oaks, mesquite and the like, stunted stuff that grows on many western mountains and in rocky canyons." perk was in a little heaven of his own later on when calling out that he could distinctly see the ground, thanks to his binoculars. morning had come, with the sun well above the horizon and everything indicating they had a fair day ahead as frequently happens after a heavy fog. it was a wild stretch of country now spread beneath the sky voyagers, with all manner of lofty peaks in every direction, mountain ranges running criss-cross without the faintest sign of regularity. "i swan if i'd care to be lost down in that sort o' country," perk was saying as he continued to stare with great eagerness. "jest about like huntin' for a needle in a haystack as to 'spect to find a cracked bus in all that awful scramble." "oh! we haven't got to where the trail is warm yet, partner," jack informed him, "though of course it isn't going to do any harm for you to scour the ground as we cut along. when a thing's lost, the chances are it happens to be lying just where nobody suspects--i've found that out myself more than a few times." "yeah! jest so boss," grunted the one who handled the binoculars, "an' if we fall down on the job it ain't goin' to be from not usin' our eyes to the limit. but say, things keep on pilin' up worse than i ever ran across in all my whole life--look at what's ahead there--can you beat it, jack?" "pretty tough stretch of mountain land any way you take it," said jack as he swept his eyes around from right to left, "but fortunately we have nothing to worry about as long as we keep a fairly decent ceiling. fact is, i'd call it free-going up here, with a nice cool breeze knocking on our port quarter and not hindering us any, even if it doesn't push us along." "that's right, jack--after that boring through a fog belt hundreds o' miles wide, this does seem like a little bit o' heaven on earth. mebbe you've noticed me takin' a look all around once in a while--up in the air, i mean? somehow i've been wonderin' why we haven't glimpsed a single ship since sun-up." "do you mean air-mail crates or some of those pilots who're searching for signs of buddy warner?" the other demanded of perk. "either kind, if it's all the same to you, jack. if we're not so far away from where the poor chap said his last goodbye as he took off with his sack of uncle sam's mail, strikes me we had ought to've run across one bus anyway, of all the flock that must be on the wing lookin' for the boy." "just so perk, but consider the immensity of space out in these regions, with all these mountains to get lost in. a score of pilots might spend every single day for a whole year in winging around the neighborhood of the colorado canyon and never once glimpse the smashed crate, even if it was in some open stretch of ground." "which i take it covers the case okay," agreed perk. "on 'count o' them big holes in the ground together with the tricky cross currents o' wind, air pockets an' all such sneaky things every airman hates with all his heart, we have to keep up some high an' even through the glass, small objects like the wings o' a smashed crate are bound to look like pin points." "when your eyes tire of searching," remarked the considerate pilot, "give me the word and i'll change places with you, partner." "sure thing old hoss--i don't aim to hog _all_ the fun," perk quickly observed and kept staring this way and that in an honest endeavor to cover the entire ground as thoroughly as possible. from time to time he would break loose to tell of some abnormal freak of nature that he had discovered. to all these sallies jack made no reply for he himself was thinking deeply and trying to map out a consistent method of conducting the search on which they were now fully launched. the government, conscious of the duty devolving on the post office department to show natural concern for the lives of its faithful employees, had seen fit to detach jack and perk from all other duties and order them to exert themselves to the utmost in an effort to find the missing pilot. aside from the glory that would fall to those who won out, jack felt very keenly for the old mother of buddy warner, doubtless passing sleepless nights while the mystery of her boy remained an unsolved problem. xii in the colorado canyon country ever since hopping off at cheyenne their course had been more or less directly southwest, for jack, on consulting his chart, had figured that this would take them close to their intended goal. only in a general way was he able to decide as to where they must be on this morning after their long flight through that enormous fog belt. strange as it might seem, thus far they had glimpsed nothing positive that would give them their exact location, but just the same jack was so certain about his figuring, knowing what distance they had covered since the start, that he did not concern himself greatly over this question. in good time something would come along to clear things up nicely, and once they got their bearings if would be possible to pick up the game with heart and soul enlisted in its carrying out. "now would you b'lieve it partner," perk was saying at one time much later in the morning, with the same wilderness covering the face of the earth far below as wide as eye could reach, "if there ain't one o' them pirates o' the air spreadin' himself to try an' cut across our path, like he wanted to take a close-up o' sech a queer contraption that keeps on makin' all them roarin' noises. i call him a feathered hijacker, 'cause he lies in wait tryin' to hold up industrious fish-hawks when they been an' grabbed a dinner outen the river, an' robbin' 'em o' it." "oh! i reckon now you're meaning an eagle, eh perk?" "old baldhead, the great american fraud that uncle sam keeps stampin' on his coins. a loafer an' a shark, too lazy to do his own huntin' an' stealin' his grub from the hard workin' osprey. see him cuttin' it for all he's worth, tryin' to butt in on us! hey, mebbe the ornery fool's got a big notion we're tryin' to put the laugh on him, an' means to give us the defy--a fool notion, i'd call it. let him try hittin' up against the side o' our fuselage an' see what happens to _him_, that's all." jack evinced sudden interest, as was proven by his saying sharply: "but see here that may not be all, as you think! what if the fool bird plunges madly at our ship? instead of butting his head against the fuselage he might strike our propeller, which would knock him galley-west, but also disable our craft. perk, better get out that sub-machine gun of yours and be ready to settle his hash if it seems likely he can head us off." "hot ziggetty dog! i never though o' _that_, partner!" cried the now thoroughly alarmed perk hastening to scramble out of his seat, dive back and drag out the firearm with which he had done such gallant service not so long ago. "watch the rascal," jack was telling him in steadying tones, "and if it looks as though he'll reach us, start gunning for him, otherwise hold your fire out of respect for the motto on our gold coins. sit pretty, partner--i'm depending on you to do a good job." jack changed his course a trifle, as if intending to give the charging bird a chance to live to another day. in this way the chase was made more stern and the possibility of a fatal contact between bird and the man-made king of the upper air rendered less likely. perk, crouching there with ready gun, held himself prepared to pour out a hot fusilade if it became absolutely necessary. he had to judge the velocity of the eagle's advance and also note how jack was so skillfully edging away to the left in order to avoid slaughtering the brave but misguided bird. after all it was a false alarm, for the eagle shot past at least twenty feet back of their rudder, going "for all he was worth" as perk afterwards explained it and by the time he could swerve, the plane was so far away that the baffled bird felt compelled to give up the pursuit, though doing so grudgingly, perk decided. he hardly knew whether to be inclined to jeer at the foolish actions of the king of the air, or give him a cheer on account of so brashly charging the great bulk that he must have considered a rival in his special field. at least there was no need of making use of the gun which he hastened to put back in its former nook where it could easily be snatched up in case of any sudden emergency. "mebbe it's jest as well i didn't have to riddle the old jay," perk told himself as he resumed his seat and his glasses. "may be a buccaneer, like some folks say, but he's got good grit and won't take a dare from even a zeppelin, should one come sailin' along in his happy huntin' grounds." the morning was wearing away with the amphibian keeping up its merry pace and the country showing no signs of betterment. civilization was a million miles distant, one would imagine, when looking down on those amazing masses of rocky peaks over which they were winging their way. judging from what they saw hour after hour, jack could well believe that changes there had been only to a small degree since columbus first sighted these shores hundreds of years back. indeed, for thousands upon thousands of years those giant fingers of rock had been pointing to the blue sky above, just as they saw them now. they ate some food about noon, washing it down with a few gulps of water they carried in a jug. strange that even perk had not remarked upon being hungry, which was such a remarkable thing for him that jack concluded his mind for once had been taken off the subject of eating and was fully occupied with the strange mission upon which they were engaged. several times jack asked the observer whether he could make out any signs of a river bed ahead and seemed surprised and a bit disappointed when perk replied in the negative. "unless i'm away off my base," jack finally told his companion, "we ought to be somewhere in the vicinity of the colorado and the enormous canyon through which it makes its way down to the gulf of california." perk displayed a sudden fresh interest in matters. "i swan, partner," he remarked in considerable agitation, "does that 'ere mean we might set eyes on that monster hole in the ground i've read so much about? are we close to the colorado river where she runs 'long through the rainbow gorge and the towerin' cliffs rear their red, blue, green and yeller walls hundreds o' feet high on both sides?" "you said it perk. chances are we'll set eyes on that big hole in the ground they call the colorado canyon before we strike another night." "je-ru-salem crickets buddy! that sounds good to me!" exulted perk, visibly stirred by the thrilling information. "allers did sorter hanker 'bout lampin' that pictur', an' it'll please me plenty if dreams do come true." this kept him quiet for some time, though he worked his glasses with a fresher zeal as though bent on missing nothing that seemed worth looking at. but thus far not the slightest object had been sighted that might turn out to be of special interest to any one looking for a smashed plane. the sun was now well down the western heavens and perk was beginning to fear the prophecy of his companion would fail to come true, when something caught his vigilant eye far in the distance and on which he focussed his binoculars. he looked long and steadily before announcing his discovery to jack. "i kinder guess partner, we're there all right," he finally burst out. "and what makes you feel that way, perk?" "from the signs ahead i figger we're gettin' close to a big sink and i c'n see the sun glintin' from somethin' shiny yonder--might be that hotel they got on the top o' the west wall, if i remember straight. yes-siree, it's jest like i'm tellin' you matey, the old river must lie down in that deep canyon. gee whiz! it makes me near goofy jest to think how i'm goin' to see the biggest canyon in the whole world, with painted walls an' all sorts o' queer relics o' ancient injuns scattered around. hot ziggetty dog! ain't i glad they sent us out this way though! if on'y we c'n find that boy, i'll be the happiest chap on earth, an' that's no lie either." that was perk's usual way of arriving at a decision without making certain. jack on the other hand, was accustomed to holding himself in check until he had actually proven it a certainty and even then he rarely gave way to any outburst of joy, leaving that to his more excitable comrade. in due time they found themselves looking down on one of the most wonderful sights that can be found anywhere in the wide world. a spectacle unmatched in any other land which people come thousands of miles to feast their enraptured eyes upon. xiii a stranded plane jack continued to stay at the controls, possibly because he wished perk to do the observing as his keen eyesight was such a valuable asset. it proved that the object perk had seen, and on which the sun was shining in such a dazzling way, was the hotel that catered to the many visitors and tourists who at certain seasons of the year flocked thither, enjoying the thrill of gazing on those natural wonders so profuse in that locality. perk could readily make out a number of moving figures on the edge of the canyon, evidently intent on watching the coming of the airship and doubtless speculating as to its mission. undoubtedly other boats had been seen flying overhead, since that particular section of country was being combed by a host of swift craft gathered from various quarters, all engaged in the humane task of striving to find the missing air mail pilot. but jack gave no evidence of a desire to drop down in the vicinity of the great hotel with its throng of guests--they could give him no information and the time could be more profitably used in commencing a systematic search. it would be time to descend when their stock of supplies in the line of food fell short or the gas tank gave promise of becoming empty. nothing less must distract them from the task they had been commissioned to carry out with all their ability. "i c'n see people comin' up out o' the canyon now," perk asserted with emphasis, "an' seems like they must be mounted on mules or donkeys, 'cause no hosses c'n climb up an' down sech steep slopes. say, ain't that worth comin' out here to see? i'll tell the world it sure is! mebbe, 'fore we starts back to old cheyenne, we'll get a chance to go down into the bowels o' the earth like them folks have been doin', an' seein' the hull panorama from the bottom." "who knows, perk?" quoth the unmoved jack, "but in the meantime we've got to stick on our job and do our level best to find buddy--because of his mourning mother if for no other reason--and that goes!" "i like to hear you say that, partner," cried sympathetic perk, "an' me to back it up to the limit. my eyes! what a peach o' a pictur' that sure is! somethin' never to be rubbed out while you live. beats anything i ever set eyes on by big odds. niagara was fine enough, but say, it ain't in the same class as this paintin' o' old dame nature's." "i'd call it sublime, and let it go at that," jack admitted, "for words never were coined that could do justice to such a tremendous thing in the way of natural scenery." the hotel was now in their rear and rapidly growing fainter in the distance, while below lay the wide reaches of the enormous canyon, dug through uncounted ages by the swift current of the famous river that miles further on would disappear from sight between walls that reared their heads hundreds of feet aloft. as if to give them both a comprehensive view of the entire opening, jack had reduced their speed to a minimum and was following the canyon gap with perk keeping his eyes glued to his glasses, unable to tear them away for a single second lest he lose something of absorbing interest, possibly the most entrancing object in all that long category. so it was that jack felt a shock when he suddenly heard perk giving tongue as though gripped with some fresh cause for excitement. "hey! what's this i'm seein' partner?" he yelled. "whereabouts?" demanded the other in a flash, for there was something he could detect in perk's squeal that would indicate a discovery of more than usual importance. "right down in the ditch--look ahead, an' you'll see it! boy, if that ain't a airship lyin' on the sandy shore o' the river, i'll eat my hat! an' yes, by gum! there's a man standin' alongside wavin' somethin' white like a flag o' distress! oh my stars, c'n it be possible we've run on to poor buddy warner so clost to help an' him stuck there like a pig in a poke all this while? jack, whatever c'n it mean, do you reckon?" jack was rather startled by what his comrade was saying, but as always proved himself quick to act. "take over the stick perk, and give me the glasses. i must see for myself what it means. a plane down in that big hole, close to the edge of the rushing river and only a mile or so from help--it seems incredible--why, as i understand from what i've heard and read, parties with their guides often spend a night in the canyon looking through those queer indian stone houses and even wander along the river for some distance. why, he never could be that close by all this time and his condition continue unknown." he was riveting his gaze upon the spot perk had pointed to, and just as the other had declared, some one was making frantic gestures, waving a piece of white cloth and plainly asking them to drop down and rescue him or at least convey a knowledge of his desperate situation to those at the hotel. the more jack stared the greater did the mystery become in his mind. it simply could not be--there must be some other explanation to account for so unreasonable a condition. what should they do about it? the man kept waving his distress signal, and possibly was at the same time shouting something, to judge from his actions although of course his voice failed utterly to reach their ears. "what's goin' to be done about it, eh partner?" perk was saying as he swung in a great curve and again started to pass over the object of jack's scrutiny and bewilderment. "do we leave him there, after comin' so far to help the poor lad? ain't there a way for us to slant down an' drop on that sandy shore his boat's restin' on? bet every red cent i got it c'n be done, brother an' you're the boy to tackle the ticklish job." "make still another circuit, perk," said jack earnestly from which his companion judged he must be even then considering in his mind whether the proposed scheme were feasible or not. "he keeps right along signalin' to us not to desert him, jack. mebbe now ours ain't the first ship to come sailin' along an' the others gave up any idea o' landin' in the ditch, so he's getting a bit desperate--an' hungry as all get out in the bargain. must a'been three days since he was reported missin' you remember, partner." jack apparently was not wholly convinced. it might not be so difficult a task to drop down successfully, but being able to come up again would be a horse of another color, he figured. then all at once he made his decision. "we'll go, perk--the stick if you please and stand by to lend a hand if it's needed when we make contact. i can see what looks like an inviting place in the water where we can use those dandy pontoons to advantage. ready for it?" they swung around once more and this time jack turned the nose of his craft directly at a slant so as to head for the spot where the pilot of the wrecked ship was running up and down in great excitement, still flinging his signal of distress back and forth. but when he saw that they were actually starting to drop below the majestic walls of the wonderful canyon as though bent on endeavoring to assist him, he stopped short and stood there wringing his hands in what to jack was a rather peculiar way for a brave man to do. still, if he had been through a series of hard knocks, had perhaps even been seriously wounded in the crash of his boat, he might be close to distraction. anyway theirs must be the job of ascertaining the truth and afterwards doing all they could to afford him relief, though his plane might be beyond remedy and would have to be abandoned. now they were approaching the bottom of that rocky canyon--the walls towered above like grim cliffs or battlements, forged by nature to protect the stream that swept through the enormous gorge. it seemed to perk, as he shot one thrilling look upward, as though they were a mile high and that everything around them was mightily magnified--all save the river itself, together with the stranded ship and the figure standing there watching their coming so eagerly, so filled with freshly risen hope. then contact was made between their wonderful pontoons and the surface of the colorado river and there they floated on the turbulent bosom of the stream. xiv jack makes a discovery while thus dropping down into the great wide canyon by easy stages, jack had taken note of several things, although not for a single second failing to keep tabs on his dials and the action of the ship when meeting certain baffling currents of air welling up from the depths and which might have played havoc with things only for this watchful, never-ceasing care on his part. first he became aware of the fact that the abyss was no longer subject to clear visibility--in fact, it would have been next to impossible for him to have made a decent contact with the river surface only that a sudden glow had started up as if by magic. it was a fire that helped to dissipate the gathering gloom in that particular spot and the one responsible for this welcome illumination must be the unknown aviator whose crate had been wrecked when falling into the vast sink with the gorgeously painted walls. evidently he must have gathered a few piles of dry driftwood so plentifully scattered along the banks of the river, and prepared a pyre to which a lighted match could be applied, a cheery blaze following. jack sensed all this even without distracting his attention from his work. at least this seemed to be proof that the unfortunate pilot had kept his wits about him, no matter what dire happenings might have come his way. the sun could not have set--of that jack felt certain--so the sudden lack of daylight in the vicinity of that deeply imbedded river must have been caused by the passing of some heavy cloud over the face of the sun. jack even remembered noticing a bank of clouds hanging close to the southwestern horizon for the last half hour and a favoring breeze coming up must have pushed them across, so as to form a lofty but effectual screen. no matter--nothing counted as long as the ship rested happily on the water with perk hastening to drop overboard a small but efficient anchor, such as would be apt to take up scant room aboard an amphibian, but prove invaluable on occasions like the present. this was only a part of perk's duties, however--when thus anchored the ship swung to and fro on its reliable pontoons but they were fully twenty feet distant from the sandy stretch beyond the river's edge. the current was anything but friendly and there was a strong possibility that the depth between the beach and the anchored boat would prove to be several feet, with perhaps pockets twice that, to judge from the way the water swirled in eddies. but all that had been considered when equipping the amphibian for service on land or water. of what avail would it be to have the pontoons so handy if, after coming down on some body of water, they must wade or swim in order to make a landing? perk was engaged in taking vast breaths into his capacious lungs and then blowing into some sort of queer rubber contraption which, expanding rapidly, presently assumed the proportions of a squatty little boat--nothing to boast of so far as appearances went, but capable, when fully blown up, of ferrying himself and his companion over the few yards of open water lying between themselves and their coveted landing place. without just such an auxiliary, the usefulness of a land and water aircraft must be considerably cut down, as pilots have long since ascertained from actual experience. just as had been the case of the folding anchor that, with the rubber boat took very little room until needed, it paid big dividends in comparison with the small amount of trouble it gave. the castaway air pilot was standing near by watching everything they did with the utmost eagerness. thus far he had not seen fit to call out, but his manner proved the intense interest he felt. jack waved his hand encouragingly to the other, even while perk was launching the clumsy rubber boat which proved to be so buoyant that it kept bobbing up and down with each movement of the speeding, gurgling current. the fire was now burning brightly so that the whole immediate vicinity seemed lighted up. jack involuntarily cast an inquisitive eye in the direction where the stranded ship lay with one wing dipping in the river. so familiar had long acquaintance with the various models of flying boats made jack, that as a rule it required only a single glance to tell him the make of any ship he was seeing for the first time. "a single-seat open-cockpit stinson-detroiter, if i know my onions," he was telling himself, "and i'll be hanged if i ever did know of the mail being carried in these days aboard one of those older types of craft. looks like it had been used more or less in the bargain. i understood, somehow or other, that buddy warner was using a cabin ship--but he might have changed over to this for some reason." still this fact was perhaps the entering wedge that started a dim suspicion in jack's mind so that after entering the small boat and having perk wield the dumpy paddle, he eyed the waiting figure of the wrecked pilot as if making some sort of decision. just then perk gave one of his queer grunts and in a husky whisper that barely reached the ears of his chum went on to say: "jack, would you b'lieve me, that there ain't our buddy a'tall--never did set eyes on this here youngster, for a fact. hot ziggetty dog! now ain't that the rottenest luck ever?" jack made no reply, but perk's discovery only justified the suspicion that had been forming in his own mind. then they had had their drop into the canyon all for naught--at least so far as the discovery of the missing air-mail pilot was concerned. true, the other was in something of a predicament, but he did not seem to be seriously injured and when another day dawned his need of assistance would surely be discovered by those connected with the big hotel, so that after all his troubles were only for a brief while. still, they had made the swoop and being on hand it would hardly seem decent and courteous for them to hold back, when possibly they could be of more or less help. this being the case, jack held his own counsel and made no answer to perk's show of disappointment that almost bordered on resentment he stepped out of the boat on to the sand when the bobbing craft grounded and waited for perk to toss the rope to him so their clumsy craft might not yield to the wooing of that treacherous current and pass down-stream, leaving the pair of them marooned. now that he found himself close to the stranger, jack could see that he appeared to be a mere wisp of a lad. his helmet was on his head, with the goggles pushed up, he wore what seemed to be almost new dungarees for they had a fresh appearance in startling contrast with those he and perk wore over their other clothes to take up all the grease and oil that of necessity must be met with aboard any ship that required a motor for propelling purposes. jack's first inclination was to decide the other must be one of those dudish young chaps who sometimes drift into the ranks of flying men. not at all weak or yellow when occasion arose to prove their stamina, but so constituted by nature that they can "carry on" and yet show little signs of the ordinary pilot's addiction to dirt. he stepped toward the other, leaving to perk the job of finding some means for securing the end of the rope, possibly to a stake driven into the sand or perhaps to the nearby wreck of the stinson-detroiter ship. "seems that you've had a little mishap, stranger," jack remarked with one of his pleasant smiles that always won him friends wherever he went. "if we can be of any assistance just call on us. it's a part of our creed, you know, for air pilots to stand by one another in difficulty. perhaps your boat may not be so badly smashed but what we can knock it into shape and get it up out of this queer old hole." he saw the boy drop the look of anxiety that had marked his face and even allow his features to relax in a smile. "i don't know how i can thank you for saying that--i am so eager to get out of this scrape, the worst that ever happened to me, but then i am something of a greenhorn pilot as yet, though even that fact couldn't keep me from trying my wings. i _must_ get out of this and be on my way again." and even as he listened to those pleading words, jack realized that the pilot of the crashed stinson-detroiter plane was a girl! xv the hand of fate it was a surprising discovery that jack had just made, but after all not so very wonderful. in these modern days a multitude of daring girls and young women were becoming air minded and filled with the ambition to become pilots. the fascination of such a life appealed to them with irresistible force so that already some of them had made a most creditable showing in the annals of aviation. for one thing the fact that the one he had offered to help had turned out to be a girl gave jack a twinge--he realized that more than ever he and perk would be obliged to "stick around," and endeavor to overcome her difficulties, if the disabilities of the wrecked plane could in any way be remedied. that was apt to mean a further delay in their work, a serious handicap, since already too much time had passed if there remained any further hope of finding poor buddy warner. "tell me, did you come through this crash without being seriously hurt yourself?" he asked her. perk must have made the same sudden discovery as jack for he was standing near by, staring hard at the novice pilot and with his mouth open. possibly perk also deplored the fact that their meeting with a woman flyer was bound to interfere more or less with those plans of his pal's which above all things concerned the need of speedy action, unhampered liberty of going where they willed and staying on the job steadily, come storm, fog, riotous wind or fair weather. "a few little bruises seems to be the extent of my injuries--next to nothing, i assure you, but if they were ten times as serious it would not keep me from going up again, if my ship were workable--indeed, it is absolutely necessary for me to do so!" jack looked at her again. most assuredly she did have the necessary stamina required of a successful air pilot. he did not believe any ordinary peril could deter such a girl from attempting what she had planned. "i am glad to know that you were not badly hurt, he told her, but it's plain to be seen you must have handled your stick cleverly or your ship would have crashed ten times as hard as it did. the first thing to be done is for us to check the craft over and learn the extent of the damage. if, luckily, it happens to be but a broken wing, possibly we can fix it up well enough to get the boat out of this fearful hole. however did it happen you picked out this place to come down in, or was it just by a rare chance? you could not have found as good a landing-field inside of a hundred miles i reckon, miss." she smiled at hearing him address her by that title, since it was the first real evidence that he understood the situation. "i suppose it was partly luck," she told him simply, "although i did have an idea it would be a hundred per cent better to fall on what looked like a sandy shore down here, than take chances with those terrible rocks up above. just what i did and how i landed so easily, i'm not at all certain about, but heaven was kind and yet i hope never to find myself in the same bad fix again. did you say you would take a look at my ship and find out what's wrong? it's kind of you to go to all that trouble, but i must get out of this as soon as possible--oh! i surely must!" jack could not help being struck with the way she said this, with her pretty sun and wind-tanned face taking on a determined, resolute expression. he would not have been human to thus hear and see without beginning to wonder what is could be that influenced her to speak so. why should she show such a yearning for a chance to continue her flight? what genuine reason could a girl have for such an overwhelming desire for action? was there any sort of endurance race on the books for women pilots who had recently obtained their necessary flying licenses--or was it some sort of a private wager that caused her to betray so much solicitude? would he and perk be justified in holding over so as to get her started, granting that her ship could be put in condition again by means of their combined knowledge and ability along those lines? somehow, when he looked keenly into her face, he failed to discover the faintest trace of guile thereon. once convinced of this fact, jack threw every suspicion to the four winds and came to the conclusion that both duty and the natural chivalry in his nature compelled him to do all that was possible to aid a fellow pilot in distress. "perk, suppose you tote that painter up to the ship here and fasten it. we've got a little job on our hands for i've promised this young lady to check up and learn how badly her boat has been wrecked. by the way miss, you haven't so far told us your name--mine happens to be jack ralston and this is my partner, perk--gabe perkiser in full." "and mine is suzanne cramer--one of the newcomers in the ranks of women air pilots. it hasn't been so long since they gave me my license, after i'd done my full allowance of solo flying. this is my own ship--i bought it secondhand, but in perfect condition. until today i have never had any trouble but the engine started to miss and i knew i must land or crash dreadfully. please see if there's any hope for my getting out of this place soon, for it means everything in the world to me." jack saw that suspicious old bachelor, perk give him a solemn look and wink his left eye, just as though he distrusted the wisdom of their wasting precious minutes trying to help a flighty little girl pilot, evidently on some sort of a silly lark and making out that it was a most important matter indeed--as most girls always do, according to his limited knowledge. thereupon jack shook his head at scoffing perk, knowing as he did how the other was inclined to be a woman-hater. "come on perk, now that you've made our ferry secure let's get busy and see what's what here. you take the off wing and i'll look over the near one, then we can double-up on the engine and reach a conclusion. it won't take us long, perk and it's a duty every decent pilot owes to his class, remember." "okay boss, jest as you say, i'm willin'; but all the same it looks to me like it'd turn out to be a bum job. that old bus has been given some hard knocks an' won't tune up worth a red cent." the girl thereupon uttered a little pitiable moan that influenced jack to turn a bit sternly upon his pal and say quickly: "no snap judgment perk! you never can tell how badly things are until you give them the first over. come on now, partner i know you well enough to be sure you'll give an honest verdict, no matter what comes." "sure thing, jack--my dad taught me to 'hew straight to the line, let the chips fall where they will'--that's been the perkiser motto right along, an' see where it carried us as a family. got one uncle sheriff o' a county in kansas an' another at the head o' a hot dog emporium, which is goin' some, i want you to know." the girl looked as though amused at perk's quaint way of saying things but that anxious, eager expression quickly came upon her face again. for some little time the pair rummaged around and seemed to act as though they both knew their business, as well as the makeup of any plane ever conceived by the human mind. perk knocked on this and that, made all manner of little tests where he believed were necessary, and in other ways carried himself as befitted by education and calling to be a judge of an airship's anatomy. she followed them about, always intently watching and squeezing her hands in a way to show how wrought up she must be with the suspense. then, when they were through with the inspection and checking up, jack and perk "went into a huddle," as the latter would have termed it, nodding their heads and talking in low tones. finally jack was shoved forward by the other as the one who ought to bring the sad tidings to the distressed girl pilot. "oh! you have something dreadful to tell me," she cried out, wringing her hands. "is it too badly wrecked for you to fix up so i can pull out of this awful hole and take off again?" "i'm sorry to say, miss cramer," jack told her, "your boat is so badly knocked out that it can never be taken out of this place by its own power. it will, i fear, have to be dismantled and carried up piece-meal, to be shipped to the company's works for rebuilding." she put up her quivering hands to her face and started crying. "oh! it is terrible--just _terrible_, when he needs me so! three days have passed already, and i felt that if any one could find him surely love would show me the way. what will poor mother warner say when she fails to hear from me as i promised? poor mother, and poor buddy. what will happen to us all?" xvi suzanne insists what seemed to be the whole truth flashed into jack's mind when he heard the grieving girl pilot express the sentiments that influenced her into making this far-flung flight so soon after winning her new pilot's license. it staggered him, too--not so much that suzanne should thus turn out to be buddy warner's sweetheart, though in itself that was decidedly interesting; but to think how a strange and perverse fate had so decreed that she should meet up with the pair who had been deputized by the department at washington to start forth, and do everything in their power to solve the mystery of buddy's strange disappearance, also, _if possible_, accomplish his finding. as for perk, who apparently had seen a great light all of a sudden, just as jack had done, almost "threw a fit." he declared later on, when he could ponder, how many thousand chances there were against anything like this lucky meeting coming to pass. jack, chancing to let his gaze wander that way, could see perk staring with round eyes at the inspired face of the brave girl. he also feebly scratched his head with slow movements, just as if his wits had gone astray under the shock. "can it be possible, suzanne," stammered jack, grinning amiably the while, "that you happen to be----er, buddy's _sweetheart_--what you might call his 'best girl'?" she regarded him with an encouraging smile, and nodded her head, forgetting to cry, as though something in his way of saying this bade her hug fresh hope to her heart. "why, yes, most certainly i am--we expected to be married in another three months--buddy's got the dear little cottage on the way, and everything was planned--and then came that dreadful news telling how he was lost somewhere among these awful mountains. my ship was being repaired, for i had had a slight accident in making too fast a landing on rough ground, and it took nearly two days for those slow poke mechanics to get it checked up again--two frightful days that i never want to live again. then i hopped off, and came here, for the boys at the flying field told me just where he must have gone down, you know. perhaps it was a crazy thing to do--they tried to persuade me to give it up, but i had promised mother warner to find him--and what was the use of my being a full-fledged air pilot if i had to stay a _kiwi_--stick to the ground, when my buddy needed me so?" "still, it was an unwise thing for you to have done, though nobody could blame you, because buddy was well worth taking chances for. but, you must have realized there would be scores of skillful pilots on the job, every one bent on finding your boy, if it lay in human power. my pal and i are in the employ of uncle sam--taken off all other business, and set to making a wide search--we have come all the way from cheyenne, through the worst fog bank that ever was known, just for that purpose, which makes it seem doubly strange how we should have been brought in contact with you, miss cramer." she smiled through her tears, and then went on hastily to say: "i can only think it was providence answering the prayers i have been sending up ever since the dreadful word came to us there in our little town, that buddy has put on the map. oh! i am sure the way was opened up to me--that now you know who and what i am, you could not have the heart to leave me here while you took up the search i had dedicated myself to carry out!" jack evidently could give a pretty shrewd guess as to what lay back of her words--she undoubtedly meant to implore them to let her accompany them in their hunt. so he scratched his chin in a way he had when placed in a dilemma--perk, saw him do that and understood how matters stood; for he grinned shamelessly, as though it actually tickled him to see his best pal placed in such a hole, with no way out save in yielding. "er--much as i--we, that is--would like to oblige you, miss cramer--i'm afraid it would be impossible. we belong to a department of the government that frowns on our mixing up what they call business with pleasure. they set us on this job, and that means we've got to take off without any more delay than we can possibly help--i'm sure you'll understand what i mean." perk grinned some more, just as if he had an idea his usually dependable pal hardly knew himself what he was aiming at. the girl novice pilot looked grieved, and then brightened up. "but--what's to become of _me_ then--you surely wouldn't be so mean as to leave me here in this dreadful hole all night--i'd go out of my mind with thinking every little sound meant that some ferocious wild beast was creeping up on my fire, ready to make a meal of me; which of course would be rough, after all those fierce lessons in the air, and actually getting my pilot's license after all. and besides, i did really and truly promise ma warner i'd find buddy, and fetch him back home with me." jack looked at her entreating face, gave a glance at the grinning perk, drew a long breath, shrugged his shoulders with the air of saying in desperation: "that's that then; and what are you going to do about it, when a young woman sets you on a red-hot gridiron like that." there seemed nothing to do but capitulate, and make the best of a bad bargain. after all it was not as if they could find no room for suzanne--she was such a little thing, and besides their new cloud-chaser was capable of carrying a weight almost twice the amount of the present cargo, gas and all. "all right, then, miss cramer, we'll take you with us when we start out of here," he told her, allowing himself to shut off his feeling of near dismay, and actually smiled again in his accustomed way. "oh! thank you so much--jack," she told him, with sincerity in both voice and manner. "i promise not to give you the least trouble, and perhaps i could make myself useful sooner or later, especially if we _do_ find my buddy, and he--should be badly injured, so as to need a nurse's care--for you see i was on my way to be a trained nurse when i got air-minded, and set out to be a flyer, so sometimes i might go with buddy." "but this will mean we must all of us remain here in the great canyon for the night," he reminded her. "but that would be wasting many hours, and he needing me so much," she complained, with a pitiful look that made jack regret his inability to start right off and be doing. "listen, please," he said, gently but firmly, "you can see by looking up that the sun has set, and night is creeping out--already down in this deep hole it's next to impossible for any one to see what might lie in the way; so that makes it too risky to try and pull out. i'd like as not wreck my ship by running up against a snag in the water, or a stray boulder on the shore. whether we took you with us or not i'd made up my mind to stick it out here for the night." "yes," here broke in perk, who evidently thought he was due to "butt in" and have his little say, "and besides, even if we did manage to make the riffle without bustin', what could we do knockin' around in the dark--just a sheer waste o' good gas, an' gettin' nowhere a'tall." since it was now two against one, and they both seemed so kind, suzanne wisely gave in. "you've convinced me, jack, and i'll say no more," she told him sweetly; "but do you know i haven't had a bite to eat for ever so long; though ma did make me take aboard enough rations to feed a regiment, including tea and coffee, as well as an assortment of pots and pans." perk immediately betrayed fresh interest in life, for it was wonderful how the fellow brightened up, as though just then realizing that he himself must be perilously close to starvation. "we'll help you get them out o' the bus, lady," he hastened to say; "if so be you'll kindly show us where they be--ain't that so, partner?" jack did not seem at all averse to such a proceeding--why not make things as pleasant as possible since a capricious fate had thrown their fortunes together in this mad way? "suppose you attend to all that, perk," he told the other, knowing how efficient his partner was along such lines; "while you're doing it under miss cramer's directions i'll take another look at her crate, and see just how we can drag it further back from the river, so it will be safe when we're gone." xvii the camp in the canyon things immediately began to happen, and for the time being amidst the excitement of showing perk just where the stores and things were located aboard the stranded stinson-detroiter, miss cramer seemed to temporarily forget the load of trouble she was carrying on her little shoulders. indeed, as jack had already sized her up, she was rather a remarkable sort of a girl--so sensible, so level-headed, and truly brave in the bargain. under such a heavy strain he felt certain ninety-nine girls out of a hundred would have given way to their helplessness, and collapsed; but here this one had taken her courage in both hands, to set out in the expectation of accomplishing a task that thus far had baffled a score or more of the greatest aviation aces the country had ever known. soon the energetic perk had landed everything in the line of eatables and such truck as ma warner--bless her dear old heart, perk was saying to himself as he noted what a volume of good stuff lay in the mound he had erected--had denuded her pantry in order that her beloved boy should have enough to keep starvation at bay, when suzanne had eventually found him. it was almost ludicrous to jack to learn with what abiding faith those two who loved buddy so well had lost no time in starting the lone expedition on its way; just as though they fully expected suzanne, now a full-fledged pilot, and feeling able to conquer the world, could be attracted to the very spot where buddy lay helpless, by the spark of true love--to them it must be like the magnetic needle, always pointing so faithfully straight at the north pole, and the star that hung over it. "bless her heart"--jack was telling himself later on, as he listened to her talking so cheerfully, while busying herself in cooking the supper, with perk attending to the fire, and offering to help in "any old way." "she wouldn't have had a tinker's chance to do anything in this wild rocky country--only have her own crate crash, and double the tragedy. so it's lucky for them both we made this same queer contact tonight." jack was certainly vastly amused to watch how his cranky chum seemed to be acting. usually perk would have little or nothing to do with the other sex--jack strongly suspected that at some time in his misty past perk might have been "turned down" by some girl in whom he was becoming interested, and so allowed his whole life to be soured by the experience. but then this was different, and perhaps the affection he had once felt for buddy warner made him feel warmly toward a girl who adored the same chubby young flyer and who had forgotten her weakness as a newly fledged pilot, and struck out so boldly in hopes of finding the one who was lost. the supper was voted a great success, especially by perk, who drank innumerable cups of hot coffee, which he pronounced "nectar for the gods," growing a bit poetical in his exalted state of happiness. suzanne, too, proved herself to be a wonderful cook, and perk found himself quite envying buddy--that is, if he was ever really found, and alive in the bargain--in having such a good helpmate and life partner to prepare wonderful meals for him every day in the year. afterwards he and jack set about the job of dragging the single-seater stinson-detroiter something like forty feet back from the edge of the river, where it could stay until later on, when suzanne might find a chance to visit the scene again, or send mechanics to dismantle her ship, and pack the parts back to the factory for reassembling. she even wrote something on a sheet of paper, which latter was attached to the wreck, and would doubtless serve to keep any curious tourists from damaging her property. so, too, she made up a small package of certain articles which she wished particularly to save, or would be apt to need for her personal comfort which, she assumed, might be taken with them on the coming voyage. "in the morning," said jack, after all these things had been attended to, "i'm meaning to ask you to let us transfer what gas you have aboard your bus to our own tank--it will be wasted here, while in our hands it may save us from spending many valuable hours running off to replenish our wasted supply. of course i shall see that you are eventually reimbursed, miss cramer. even as little as fifty gallons would mean we could stick to our job so much longer, and then too it might be the means of bringing us success." "and if i had a million gallons every drop would be gladly devoted to the sacred task you have so loyally undertaken," she told him, with a suspicious glow in her eyes, which jack imagined might be caused by bravely repressed tears. "i think it is just wonderfully fine the way you two--and all those other brave men--have been so willing to spend their time, hour after hour, scouring the whole country in hopes of finding--my buddy." so jack had to tell her how the entire world of flyers were like a company of blood brothers; an injury to one being resented by the entire calling--that their universal braving of the elements, and meeting similar perils in their daily work, made a bond like no other on earth, a kinship of like interests. she was as yet only a novice, but already she had begun to have something of a similar exalted feeling toward other air pilots, so that it was not difficult for suzanne to understand his meaning. she told them not to worry about her--that she could easily make herself comfortable in the limited confine of her cockpit. true, it had no roof for shelter; but that bothered her not at all she told them, since she had camped many times in the open without even a canvas tent, or brush shanty; and besides, the stars were shining brightly overhead, showing they need fear nothing in the way of bad weather during the night. perk again assured himself that she was a mighty sensible and clear-headed little girl, and that if there were only more like her, perhaps--well, there couldn't be, and besides he'd never have the chance to run across any of that class--it just wouldn't be his good luck. it was something to make jack look back to that same evening for years to come. he as well as perk had spent many a night in camp, when on fishing trips, or it might be hunting hikes up in the big woods; but no other camp could have such a royal setting as this one did. the lofty walls running up as if to touch the star-decked sky, and as they knew full well that with those vivid colors making a nature painting beyond all imagination, that the loud song of the happy river flowing through the greatest gorge in all the wide world, that the blazing campfire, throwing up soaring sparks seemed like bright messengers of hope to suzanne as she sat there drinking it all in. it filled to the brim the longings connected with the missing air mail pilot. then, too, there was present that air of eternal mystery such as would be apt to brood over the spot where ages back the zuni, and other indian tribes, had lived in those quaint stone houses still to be found all through the hundred miles of the colorado canyon. perk knew very well that as a rule there was no danger from wild animals--that frequently parties made it a point to spend at least one night camping in the canyon, just to say they had gone through such a weird experience; and he had never heard of them being disturbed by man or beast. just the same, with this glorious chance opening up to him, perk was persuaded to imagine himself constituted as the sole guardian of the fine girl aviatrix, into whose company they had so strangely fallen. then, too he welcomed the opportunity to again handle that sub-machine-gun, which had been placed in his possession by the government at the time he and jack were running down the smuggling ring leaders on the florida coast, and a return of which had never thus far been demanded by the authorities. jack realized what was in the mind of his chum when he saw perk looking over that powerful weapon with infinite joy; and while he did not imagine for a minute that there would arise any chance for requiring its services, still, since it afforded romantic perk a good excuse for posing as a vigilant sentry, jack held his peace, taking it out by giving his pal a few significant sly winks, to which the other deigned to take no notice whatsoever. neither of them knew what arrangements suzanne had made for sleeping in the limited confines of her cockpit; but she bade them goodnight, and climbed aboard with the greatest nonchalance imaginable, as though this thing of camping out under all manner of inconveniences might be an old story with her, as indeed jack thought was more than probable. xviii the vigilant guard it had been arranged between jack and his mate that it would be just as well for them to fetch their blankets ashore and settle down on the sand for the remainder of the night. in the first place, jack thought it would not look very nice if they went aboard their anchored amphibian and left poor suzanne there alone. although she had not mentioned the matter at all, he felt sure it had given her a few qualms and that in her mind she really hoped they might decide to camp there by the fire. then again it would add to the girl's peace of mind, should she chance to be lying awake, unable to lose herself because of the haunting fears connected with the mystery of buddy's fate, to raise her head and look around to always find that cheery fire blazing, dispersing the gloom in the immediate vicinity. last of all neither of them was so fond of doubling up and trying to forget their bodily discomforts aboard their crate, that they could afford to pass up a golden opportunity to sleep on solid ground, though to be sure they were able to make the best of anything when duty bound. so perk went aboard by means of their ferry and returned with both dingy gray blankets as well as something to serve as pillows, since they had never made it a point to travel with such "soft stuff" as perk always scornfully termed them. "you turn in whenever you feel like it, boss," perk had said with a grin. "i'm not a bit sleepy, it happens an' 'sides i jest feel like havin' another whiff or two--somehow this 'baccy seems sweeter to me than i ever knowed it to be." "it should," jack told him, and evidently there must have been a significant emphasis attached to those two words to make perk look so queer and finally grin in a most ridiculous way like a boy caught robbing the jam jar or the cookey pot, and at a loss to explain the situation. accordingly jack rolled himself up in his covers, fixed his head rest to suit his own notion, turned his back on the blazing fire and lost all interest in everything saving getting his fair quota of slumber. perk sat there and smoked three pipes one after the other. then feeling a little draught of cool air on his back he dragged his blanket to him, wrapped it around his form, and gun across his knees, continued to sit with his back against a big boulder he had rolled down the sandy stretch for some purpose or other. he continued to sit there like one of the sentries they say were found at their posts when the ruins of herculaneum were cleared of the accumulated ashes of centuries, close to the grim old volcano. proving how in those military days a soldier stuck to his post though the heavens might fall upon him. twice perk got up, threw an armful of fuel on the dying fire, smoked a round of that "sweet" tobacco, cast a look of concern over toward where the stranded plane lay, shook his head doggedly and resumed his former position alongside the big boulder. apparently he had resolved to stay on duty throughout the entire night, and since perk had a vein of doggedness in his disposition the chances were he would stick to his guns. perk may not have noticed it, but more than few times his chum's covering would move just a trifle, allowing him to peep out and on each occasion jack would chuckle as if vastly entertained, after which it was sleep again for him. midnight came and went. stars shone down upon the lonesome camp, gradually wheeling westward until each in turn passed beyond the lofty rim of the canyon walls while others climbed the eastern heavens to take their turn at peeping and eventually follow the track of those who were by that time doubtless setting beyond the genuine western horizon. it must have been something like two in the morning when perk waking up from a disturbed nap, in which he was beset by a pack of savage timber wolves with only a stout cudgel as a means of defense, caught a sound that sent a delightful quiver chasing up and down his spine. "by gum! what was _that_ now?" he asked himself, at the same time moving the gun from his knee to a more elevated position. his tingling nerves announced the delight that filled his heart in contemplation of a possible chance to show how he could play guardian to a camp where innocence slept. suddenly awakened from such a wild dream, perk was in fine condition to see a pack of ferocious, gray, hungry, four-footed pirates of the waste places creeping up here, there, everywhere, with the intention of taking the camp by strategy and devouring every solitary inmate. his fire happened to be low so that the light even close by could hardly be called worth while. again perk caught some sort of sound--to his excited mind it seemed similar to an animal's nails scratching the dry sand just at that point where the high river tide was wont to reach its peak during the flood season. perk redoubled his efforts to see something moving while he nervously fingered his modern shooting iron, so radically different from those old guns used by the pioneer settlers of the virgin west in the early days of the far-flung frontier. now his quivering changed its character to certainty and rapture. most surely he had caught a fleeting glimpse of some object that was slowly and cautiously creeping up toward the slumbering campfire. a wolf--just one of the precious pack that had bothered him in his late dream--but then he had only himself to consider, whereas now it meant three separate human lives in peril. how his teeth gritted as he mentally called the slinking beast every opprobrious name he could think of, his finger meanwhile playing with the trigger that, once pulled, would start the long line of cartridges contained in the endless belt to discharging like a pack of firecrackers popping to commemorate the birthday of the good old u. s. a. yes, there could be no longer any doubt--he had not deceived himself after all, as he was beginning to suspect. now the thing had ceased to move and was starting to rise up on all four legs, as though to be in readiness to answer the call of the pack leader when it came time to charge. "it's goodbye to you, sneaker and robber on four legs!" muttered perk grimly as he put the butt of the gun up to his shoulder, covered the half seen figure, and pressed the trigger. a burst of firing instantly followed as the mechanical gun commenced to bombard the particular spot where perk had discovered the first of the oncoming pack. the reports came thick and fast, following on each others' heels and so it would continue to the end of the string unless perk himself stopped the mechanism. by the time he had thrown half a dozen leaden messengers at that one point, he felt he had effectually rid the world of one thief and marauder for which he should have the thanks of every decent person. then perk started to swing his arm from left to right, fully anticipating seeing a host of monster companions of his initial victim bounding forward and coming within range of the line of fire from his still spitting machine gun. nothing of the sort greeted his astonished eyes--in fact there was not the first sign of a single monster raider--only jack indignantly bawling him out and demanding to know what in the devil he meant arousing the entire camp with such a racket, and spoiling the rest of the night for sleep. so perk instantly shut off the deadly stream of fire that was expected to slay the whole pack of fiendish wolves as he swung his gun around with a circular movement. "whatever ailed you perk, to set that thing going like mad?" jack demanded, as he scrambled out of his enfolding blanket and advanced toward his chum, keeping a nervous eye on the gun meanwhile as if afraid perk, whom he believed had been dreaming, would start it going again. "wolves--heaps an' heaps o' 'em--dreamed they had me cornered, with on'y a club to hold the pack off--then i woke up, and sure as you live, they was acomin' right in on us--saw one whoppin' big feller right over yonder an' let him have the whole works. looky yourself jack--honest to goodness he's lyin' right there where i knocked him cold." jack gave him a laugh and hastened over to see for himself just how much truth there could be in what the other had said with so much earnestness. xix over-zealous perk "perk!" strangely enough, while the late sharpshooter had seemed so positive concerning the identity and present status of his victim, he had not displayed the eagerness one might reasonably expect in such a sturdy guardian of the camp, to follow at jack's heels. "yeah! what is it, old hoss?" he now asked, keeping one eye on the cockpit of the nearby stinson-detroiter, under the belief he saw a slight movement there, as though the girl pilot had been suddenly awakened from her sound slumber and was peeping out to ascertain the cause of the late terrific bombardment. "come over here and see your monster timber wolf," jack was saying. perk shrugged his shoulders, as though some dim suspicion of the truth might be already knocking at the door of his valiant heart, but since there was nothing else to be done he stiffened up and walked with soldierly tread to where jack ominously awaited his coming. "there he lies, fairly riddled," the other was saying, pointing as he thus greeted the arrival of the vigilant one. "he never had a chance to even give a single peep after you opened up on him--must have imagined yourself away back again on that argonne front and sending another hun ship down wrapped in flames, eh perk?" "huh! he don't look _quite_ as big as i guessed he was," admitted the now contrite marksman, beginning to weaken. "mebbe i wasted too many slugs on the onery critter--sorter shot him to pieces you might say." jack laughed and perk started, under the belief that evidences of feminine amusement drifted out of their cockpit close by as though suzanne understood, and was not only interested but highly entertained in the bargain. "that's a good one partner, for you sure _did_ knock spots out of the poor little yellow sap--chances are he followed some party down here yesterday, got to hunting around on his own hook, and missed them when they started up angel trail. then he discovered the light of your fire here and hoping he'd run upon real friends who'd toss him a scrap of meat, was crawling up to investigate when you blasted him with that fierce volley. poor confiding little beast, a victim of mistaken identity." "migosh, a prairie dog!" muttered the astonished and mortified perk, gazing ruefully down at the huddled mess before him, not too plainly seen on account of the fire flashing up only fitfully, being in need of more fuel. "it's all right, perk old man," soothed jack, knowing just how mean his chum must be feeling, with that unseen girl a witness to his upset and her low gurgles of laughter coming distinctly to their ears in the bargain, "your intentions were okay, and you certainly did pot him neatly. no danger of any poacher stealing from a camp where you've taken up your post as sentry. that vivid dream you mentioned must have got on your nerves and when you discovered a moving figure, naturally enough your first thought was of sneaking four-footed mountain wolves about to make a raid." "hot ziggetty dog! i sure must 'a' had the jimjams all right," chuckled perk, beginning to throw off that stupid feeling of being only half awake and even able to laugh at the joke on himself. "jack," said a merry, girlish voice just then, "tell your friend not to be worried about me. i've shot more than a few wolves and coyotes for i was born and brought up in the cow country you see. it's all right, perk, don't feel badly about it. i know it was just to stand up in my defense that made you so speedy on the trigger. only gave me a little scare until i guessed what it all meant. i'm going to sleep some more, though it's a hard job to get buddy's frightful predicament out of my mind." "and perk," said jack, throwing an arm affectionately across the shoulders of his mate, "you turn this job over to me now and get a few winks before morning comes creeping along out of the east over there to start us on our way again. i'll sit right here, holding your old cannon and woe to the wolf, coyote or even another yellow cur that dares to sneak in on us." so after all perk was not feeling so very badly on account of his fiasco, though it did make him grimace to remember that those bright eyes of buddy's best girl had been an amused witness to his humiliation. he did not say another word, but humbly handed over the sub-machine-gun to his companion and dropped down near the fire upon which he had tossed a fresh supply of fuel. secretly he was meaning to be up at peep of day before suzanne would be stirring, in order to drag the victim of his fusilade some distance away from their camp so that her curious eyes might not be offended by sight of the wreck of a little harmless prairie dog. the balance of that wonderful night, spent alongside the colorado in the famous canyon of the painted walls, passed without a single thing happening to further disturb them. in the east, where the mountain peaks made a ragged horizon, the first faint fingers of pink were commencing to streak the low heavens when jack saw his chum moving off toward the spot where lay the victim of his deadly aim. he instinctively understood what perk was aiming to do and on that account refrained from calling out or otherwise taking any notice of his being abroad. when perk came back ten minutes later and washed his hands down at the river brink, jack only chuckled, as though it tickled him to notice how the flinty-hearted perk--only with regard to his indifference toward all female persons--had discovered that there might still be a few--not many, perhaps--girls who were sincere and loyal to the one to whom they had pledged their hearts--lucky buddy warner, with all this uncertainty regarding his fate--at the worst there would be _some one_ to always mourn his passing. on came the day, and perk busied himself in getting a good cooking fire going, remembering what a delicious supper the girl had prepared on the preceding evening; and his mouth now fairly watering with hopes of another turn at that royal ambrosia which some people without sentiment will call plain "coffee." suzanne presently joined them, after washing her pretty face down at the running water, which was icy cold, and most refreshing indeed. then she busied herself at the fire, ordered the meek and obedient perk around after the manner of most petty and pretty kitchen tyrants; but the fine odors that were soon filling the rarified air buoyed up perk's spirits wonderfully and he raised no rebellion. and the breakfast to which they soon sat down was just as delicious as fancy had pictured; indeed, the only thing amiss so far as the ravenous perk could discover was the fact that it might give out before all of them had had a sufficiency. "now, let's get busy transferring that gas to our tank, perk," jack observed, as they finally arose. "we'll have to get our boat up on the shore, you observe--a case of mahomet going to the mountain--let's go, partner." this was not so difficult as it might seem; for the sandy shore was shelving, and once jack gave her the gun the amphibian literally "walked up" to where they wanted her to be, alongside the stinson-detroiter plane. perk produced a length of small rubber tubing, and made use of it as a siphon. once the gasoline was started, by suction--perk attended to that part by sucking the air all out, and getting a mouthful of liquid to pay him for his trouble, which he ejected with a grimace--it continued to flow until the tank aboard the amphibian was plumb full. "i can scare up several five-gallon empty tins," suggested the wise perk, "that might be filled, and stowed away somewhere--that would give us a reserve stock, plenty i guess to carry us to the nearest supply base in case our tank went dry." "a mighty good idea, boy," was jack's comment, he being glad to see how the other was recovering from his late depression. they finally had everything settled--suzanne had put up her little "sign," to let curious-minded folks wandering that way know who owned the abandoned crate, and that it was to be let absolutely alone until she came to salvage it. then, too, she had made up her little package of "essentials," which she meant to take along when they zoomed off to start the real search for lost buddy warner. as they settled down in their places, room having been found for the girl pilot, suzanne waved her hand a bit sadly toward her impotent crate, as though certain high hopes she had been entertaining were now fallen in ruins; then she smiled again, watching closely to see jack gripping the stick and letting in the gas to the attendant spark, when they were off. xx an unsubdued spirit backed by plenty of daylight there was no difficulty at all experienced in mounting. the sand was packed quite hard as sometimes happens at the seashore, particularly in highly favored localities like down at daytona beach on the eastern coast of florida, where the speed races are run every season. after the wheels contained in the aluminum pontoons left the ground not a single obstacle stood in the way of their climbing steadily upward, until presently they could look out over the sweep of rough country surrounding that strangest of all dame nature's trick pictures--the colorado canyon. jack had his plans all laid out, built upon his charts, and the general fund of knowledge gleaned from some of the newspaper accounts that he had kept by him; after shuffling the pack, and discarding all unsupported versions as unreliable guides for stranger air pilots to go by. having set the course jack had perk handle the stick, for it was his intention to have a good talk with suzanne, something he had not managed to accomplish thus far. she understood just what he had in mind when he took up one end of the earphone harness, and made motions; for the racket was too fierce to think of trying to make his ordinary speaking voice heard--indeed, she had already shown a certain amount of curiosity concerning the apparatus, possibly knowing what it was intended for, although never herself having as yet had occasion to make use of such a means of communication when in flight. he soon had the straps adjusted to suit her small head, and then proceeded to arrange his own end. his main purpose was far from being connected with anything like curiosity, for somehow he had a faint hope something she could tell him might open up a line of reasoning, and produce a live clue, which was just what was lacking in his plans. "i'm meaning to ask you some questions, miss cramer," he went on to say; "in hopes that you may be able to give me some little valuable hint; for up to now everybody must be working more or less in the dark. you see, all that's known to be positive is that buddy took off from a certain station where he delivered some important mail, picked up a local sack, and then took off at a specified hour and minute. after that he was not heard from again--failed to show up at either of the succeeding stations, and was awaited in vain at the end of his run. "for a time nothing much was thought of his delay in turning up; because of any one of several things that might have held him back--fog, head winds, or some trifling trouble compelling him to make a forced landing, which in this dreadful country of rocks and gullies among mountain peaks usually is attended by serious difficulties, especially the getting off again when the trouble has been attended to." then he went on to tell her what he had deducted, after carefully getting the gist of what all the newspaper men had discovered up to within twenty-four hours of the present time; the deeply interested girl listening eagerly, and occasionally nodding her head, as though quite agreeing with his reasoning. "now," jack went on to say--after bringing his story down to where he and perk had received their orders from washington, took off, butted against a most tenacious fog belt, and finally brought up at the canyon, where they made her acquaintance--"tell me please, when and how you first heard that buddy was missing, if it would not be too painful a recital." "oh! that will not keep me from speaking," she hastened to say, trying bravely to keep the tears from dimming her eyes: "nothing could be too painful for me to endure if only it works to _his_ good in the end. we read the dreadful news in the daily paper that comes to ma warner's home every morning, it being mailed in the big city not a hundred miles away. she always hunts up the aviation column the very first thing. why not, when she has an only son who is known as an experienced and reliable air-mail pilot and also knows that she is going to have a second ambitious flyer in the family soon, if all goes well, and i find buddy. "of course we were very apprehensive, what with the neighbors running in to sympathize, and cheer us up. later on that same day a reporter from the very paper in which we read the first news about buddy, turned up, having motored over across country, eager to pick up enough interesting facts at the humble home of buddy's anxious mother to make a thrilling story for his editor. "they have been saying some very kind things about our buddy since he disappeared so suddenly and mysteriously. he was one of the best liked air-pilots in the whole corps, i read again and again; and oh! what a thrill it gave us both to realize how he was even being compared to lindbergh himself. could anything be said to make a mother's heart thrill more with joy--or that of buddy's best girl also? "to be sure," she went on, with a winsome little smile, "he had never done anything great, to make him famous, in the way of wonderful stunts, or long perilous flights over wide oceans, and such, but every one seemed to know how his heart has always been wrapped up in the cause of aviation, and that he would be willing to lay down his very life if by doing so he could advance the day when flying will be much safer than going by train or boat." jack soon realized that there was no hope of learning anything from this source capable of opening up a promising line of thought. suzanne was only too eager to tell everything she knew, but after all it amounted only to an exhibition of her affection. how she conceived the madcap idea of herself starting out, "only a half-baked pilot" she called herself in humiliation, just hoping that something--she knew not what, for it would have to be in the nature of a near miracle, as jack very well knew--would have to come along to draw her to where her buddy must be lying, waiting and praying for needful aid. jack knew very well, although not for worlds would he have hinted at such a thing in her hearing, that since three full days had by this time gone by, poor buddy must long since have passed on. unless of course some good samaritan had found him where he lay injured and perhaps starving, and taken him in charge. a happy accident like this was one chance in a thousand because of the uninhabited wilderness. she had pictured the old mother striving to believe god would surely keep her boy safe in the hollow of his omnipotent hand, so that jack had to wink pretty fast in order not to let her see the tears in his own eyes--such confidence and assurance was really beautiful; and for one thing it caused jack to resolve more than ever to let no ordinary obstacle daunt him--for the sake of that fond mother and this courageous if ill-advised young lady who just refused to yield to despondency even when the skies looked most gloomy, and hope hung by just a slender shred. "depend upon it, miss cramer," he told her, gently, after he realized that nothing was to be gained by pressing her with further questioning; "both perk and myself are booked in this game, and we mean to leave no stone unturned in trying to find buddy. others who are engaged in the search will make all manner of sacrifices too. so great is the warmth of feeling for that faithful mother who is forced to stay at home, and leave the sacred task to strangers. if concerted effort is able to accomplish anything we'll succeed; if all our efforts fail us, you must try and believe it is for some wise purpose which we cannot see with the weak human eyes." she looked at him with an expression that made jack realize how much of her confident spirit was make believe--that deep down in her sensible heart she knew very well what terrific chances there were against success coming to reward their efforts--that much of this had been assumed in the hope of buoying up the falling hopes of that poor mother, left bereft of her only boy, the stay and pride of her aging years. he saw her clamp her white teeth together as if forcing herself to brush aside that sinking feeling, and show the old dauntless spirit that had thus far carried her safely through a sea of doubts and fears. when she spoke again it was with a ring in her voice that thrilled him to the core--he only wished he could take on a measure of that indomitable nature that would not give up. "but we'll find him," she was saying, slowly but fiercely; "i just know we will, that's all--his mother needs him, his only girl needs him, and we've _got_ to bring him back to his old home--alive, or--dead!" xxi combing the mountain-tops jack admitted to feeling a trifle disappointed when his talk with suzanne afforded no signs of a clue upon which to build a structure; although truth to tell he realized how almost absurd that hope had been. surely buddy's disappearance could hardly hinge upon anything that had ever taken place in his old home town--such a cheery, companionable lad could not have any enemies--suzanne had not hinted at such a thing as a jealous rival in the field, who might give way to wicked thoughts. no, the whole occurrence must be what everybody believed--a sheer accident, such as was liable to happen to any air pilot braving the elements day and night in the pursuit of his regular vocation. he had gone down, so now the only trouble was to locate the scene of his mishap and, as perk at another time had been heard to say "pick up the pieces," meaning no offense by such a remark. "if you don't mind," the girl was saying shortly afterwards, "i'd like very much to be allowed to use your glasses. i possess good vision, and perhaps the great stake i have in this search might make me argus-eyed indeed." "certainly you may make use of them," jack told her, reaching out to secure the binoculars, showing her how to work them to meet with the best results. "if you do happen to see something that excites your interest, just call our attention to it--sometimes two pair of eyes are better than one, you know, miss cramer." so she sat there, staring down as they moved swiftly through the realms of space; but not too swiftly. she seemed to be trying to cover all the ground possible, ever and anon lifting her gaze to sweep a look at more distant objects. again and again she would stop in her movements as if to concentrate her scrutiny upon one particular spot; jack, watching with sympathy filling his heart, could imagine how the poor girl must be suffering even though failing to show it. he would feel a spasm of eagerness on each occasion of special scrutiny only to lose it again as she continued her search of the grim countryside that was so bleak and so unpromising. meantime jack was keeping one eye on the lower heavens, with the expectation of sooner or later discovering some far distant moving object, that he would know must be some other air craft, doubtless engaged in the same mission of humanity and mercy that employed all their own efforts. it turned out that he had not held these expectations in vain, for along about the middle of the morning such a tiny blur was discovered far away, which grew somewhat larger as the minutes passed. upon calling the girl's attention to the moving object that to the unaided eye might just as well have been set down as a wheeling buzzard, she quickly pronounced it to be a plane, sweeping at a low altitude above the rocky mountain peaks, as though those aboard were scrutinizing the depths and heights that lay underneath, just as she had been doing. she cast frequent eager glances in that direction, while not allowing her interest in the wild terrain over which they continued to pass, to slacken. jack could detect a certain wistfulness in the way she watched, just as though she might be wishing them all the favors of heaven in meeting with success. the ship swung around, and went off in another direction, as though the pilot might be following out certain ideas of his own. while it was yet in plain sight, though growing fainter in the lower haze, she uttered a low cry, and said excitedly: "oh! look jack, look over in the north--another ship, and a cabin biplane at that. do you think they are working on the same lines as the rest of us?" jack reached out a hand for the binoculars, and took a good survey; after which he announced that everything seemed to point that way. "they're keeping low down, also moving quite slowly; and if on a regular flight they would be doing neither of those things, you understand. yes, and i have no doubt that within a hundred-and-fifty miles of this spot in every direction there are twenty--thirty such ships, large and small, with each pilot doing everything in his power to be the lucky one to find your buddy." she continued to observe the two planes as if lost in serious thought, to finally say with a little catch in her voice, for she still had the earphone harness attached to her head: "i wish them every success possible; for it does not matter who the lucky pilot is, every one of them will be remembered as long as i live. the only thing that counts is to find _him_--alive!" as if to emphasize the yearning that was in her heart the girl stretched out both hands toward the two distant ships; and there was something so pathetic in the mute action that neither of the other would ever forget. then, as though just as sanguine as ever she accepted the glasses from jack to continue scanning the ground they were passing over, hoping to sooner or later meet with a glorious success. jack himself was far from feeling the same enthusiasm--doubtless it was because of his superior knowledge of the vast difficulties staring them rudely in the face; then again he did not have that true love for buddy buoying him up, as was the case with suzanne. perk was thinking that since noon had rolled around it might be just as well that they munched a trifle of food, so as to conserve their strength, with a long task ahead of them, when once again the girl uttered a cry. perk not being equipped just then with ear-phones could not catch what she was saying so excitedly; but at least he was able to surmise its tenor--she had undoubtedly made some sort of discovery, for her face was marked by animation, and she kept pointing down toward some part of the rocky country, trying to direct jack's attention to it. perk saw his chum take the binoculars and follow up the particular line in which suzanne was pointing. long and earnestly did he stare, with her eager eyes glued on his face. then jack sadly shook his head, as if deciding in the negative. whatever it was she had seen to thus arouse false hopes his good sense told him it was not worthy of their further investigation. this naturally caused her to be bitterly disappointed, although she managed to bear up bravely, and even smiled whimsically--pitifully perk called it, for he was deeply interested in the wild search, and hoping with all his heart it might turn out successful, though his good sense and training told him only a near miracle could accomplish this. none of them seemed to have much appetite save perk, and that always hungry individual was never known to refuse an opportunity to treat his clamoring "tummy" to an extra meal--suzanne hardly touched a morsel and when jack tried to persuade her that she owed it to herself to eat, she shook her head and told him it would choke her if she did. then once more was the everlasting vigil resumed--indeed, while the others munched a snack the girl had kept the glasses almost constantly employed, as though under the conviction that if any slackening of her observation came about that might prove to be the undoing of the whole scheme--a chain is only as strong as its weakest link; and ten minutes relaxation in the way of covering the ground they were passing over might be fatal to their success. again about the middle of the afternoon she once more believed she saw something calling for a closer scrutiny. this time she was not so excited as on the previous occasion, possibly taking warning; but she pressed the binoculars on jack--perk still handling the controls--and directed his attention to what she believed was a smudge of smoke arising from amidst the side of a steep mountain where the rocks were piled up as though giants had been playing ten pins. once more did jack bend all his energies to figuring out what the smoke could mean; he disliked telling her it did not offer any real hope, for he could see that it was the end of a forest fire, such as may have been tailing up the long ravine for many days, and feeding on all manner of trash falling from the scraggy pinon trees that managed to cling to the otherwise bare walls. the poor forlorn girl broke down and cried bitterly when once more her hopes were dashed to the ground. perk shook his head, and gritted his teeth, for it greatly disturbed him to hear her weeping; jack tried to comfort her as best he could, in a man's clumsy way. soon the fit wore away, and suzanne was her own brave little self again, the look of sublime confidence once more coming into her face. and so the weary hunt went on as the sun slanted down the western heavens, with a cruel night ahead of the searchers. xxii an air-mail way station once they sighted an isolated town in a valley, but this failed to arouse any particular enthusiasm. if anything had been seen by those who lived in such a remote place, the glad tidings would have long since been sent out to the world, since it must be understood how the entire country was alive with eagerness for a satisfactory solution to the mysterious disappearance of the young air-mail pilot. jack rather imagined that this might be the place where buddy warner turned up missing--where at a certain hour his schedule was to have brought him down from his sky trail to leave and pick up the mail--but alas! he had failed to come to time, and day after day an increasing number of scurrying planes continued to scour the surrounding country in the endeavor to pick up a clue. jack could make out the landing field with his naked eyes but when suzanne pressed the glasses on him without saying a word, he proceeded to make good use of them. a plane had just landed, possibly in the mail service, for there was more or less bustle in its vicinity and he could see a small ford car starting off, as if with a bag or two of letters. apparently their passing over failed to excite the people, for while they were staring up and displaying a certain amount of interest, they made no signals, showing there was no good news, as possibly the girl had been hoping. "they have been seeing any number of ships passing over during the last few days, i reckon," he told her, just to have something to say, and perhaps also relieve her evident distress a little, "so understand that nothing has been found, or the joyful news would be transmitted by radio or wire." taking it for granted that he had figured correctly, jack altered his plans. if buddy had never made his goal and delivered the mail at this station, the chances seemed to be that he could hardly have gone past--that whatever happened to him must have occurred before he came to this place. this being the case, they would show the part of wisdom to swing around and start back the way they had come. it would be a good policy to zigzag back and forth so as to cover all the ground possible. jack had taken particular care to find out what he could as to the sort of night it was when the disappearance took place. whether there was any kind of bad weather and which way the prevailing wind chanced to be blowing, for that must be taken into consideration in order to get as close to the facts as possible. so now when about to head back, he knew just which side of their late course must call for their serious attention. another thing he kept before him was the important fact of eight or ten hours apparently wasted. night was approaching and they could not have even the slightest hope of making any sort of discovery. since in following out his new plan of swinging back and forth each few miles, covering only short distances ahead, by the time twilight fell they would not be a great distance from the valley in which that town on the air-mail route nestled. what was to hinder them seeking it out again, and finding a safe harbor for the hours of darkness? when he found a chance to talk with perk, changing the ear phones from the girl to his chum, now resting up after a continuous service of many hours, the latter absolutely agreed with everything jack advanced. "shucks! we couldn't 'spect to strike anything while the night lasted, just keep moseyin' around to kill time an' in that way usin' up a whole bunch o' gas, 'sides mebbe losin' track o' our job. yep, i'd say it'd be a good thing all 'round for us to drop down an' give the girl a chance to rest." that seemed to settle it, insofar as jack was concerned for it was always good in his mind to have his partner agree with him, perk being no fool but an experienced airman of many years standing. the seesaw movement gave them an opportunity to cover considerable ground, even while they made but scant forward progress. jack was not at all concerned about this lack, his one desire being to effectually scour the country so as to feel they had not been lax in their duty. he took mental notes as they went along, so as to always remember just what course must be pursued in order to fetch them back to the cozy little valley set like a gem in the heart of that inhospitable mountain territory. this was only in keeping with jack's customary system of preparedness. a habit that had proven most valuable to him more than a few times in the past. they were once again over the high elevations so that it was necessary to change their altitude frequently in order to keep within reasonable distance of the ground which they were searching for a clue. now they had to climb in order to clear a lofty peak and immediately afterwards drop down so as to comb the further side of the rocky height, as well as the deep ravine lying between the several mountains in the mighty chain. it was interesting work, but with such slight chances for success, much of the glamour was lost for jack. as the friendly sun was about to drop behind the western horizon, so jagged, so fantastic in contour, they must soon give up the flight for that day and hasten back to the valley town where a safe landing could be effected and a decent meal secured, something to tempt poor, disconsolate and yet brave suzanne to break her long fast. already it was growing difficult to distinguish objects in some of the canyons and defiles over which they sailed, indicating that they might be missing something of value. accordingly jack swung abruptly around and rising like an eagle on the wing, started to go back. he could see that suzanne noticed this abrupt change in their course for she displayed some uneasiness. he motioned to perk to let her have the earphones again and proceeded to explain just what must be done. at first the girl was distressed, for to her mind it looked as though her staunch friends might be growing weary of their hopeless quest and meant to abandon it altogether, but as jack carefully explained why it was necessary they should land for the night while the opportunity offered and that nothing would be sacrificed in so doing, suzanne began to comprehend and nod her head in approval. "we can stop over and get rested up instead of keeping on this gruelling task without the slightest chance for accomplishing anything," he told her finally, though immediately adding: "that covers the night only, for as soon as morning comes we shall start out, fixed to keep going all day long." "i understand just what you mean, jack, and i don't know how to thank you both for all you are doing for me--for buddy--for ma warner, waiting there at home and hardly sleeping a wink as she thinks and thinks and prays her boy may be given back to her safe and sound." jack did not say any more, he could not because by now his own hopes were diminishing at a rapid rate. was it any wonder that such should be the case when three full days had now crept along since the air-mail pilot vanished into the realms of space, and never a single word coming back to explain his fate? for the sake of this brave girl, so ready to risk her own life in the service of the one she loved, he must try to keep up a confident front. if it was ordained that she too must see her hopes crushed, at least he and perk would have the satisfaction of knowing they had done everything in their power to bring her great joy. so too, that anxious mother in the far away home, what gratification it would give them if they could dry her tears and be helpful in bringing her boy back to her arms. they were now nearing the valley where the little way-station on the air-mail route lay between its majestic sentinel snow-clad peaks. jack meant to circle twice at least, so as to get a good idea as to how the ground lay for by now daylight would be giving place to dusk in that valley, and visibility not all they could wish, so it would pay them to be very careful. jack could see that suzanne was greatly interested and he knew just why. here at this mountain station, buddy was in the habit of landing every time his flight took him back and forth. doubtless he had made friends with some of the town folks, especially those connected with the flying field for his was a nature that always attracted people. it agitated her to realize that she might even hear him spoken of in the highest terms, and what pride such a thing must stir up in her young heart! jack was circling the field and constantly dropping lower with each round so that he had already been able to pick out the exact spot where he meant to land. xxiii perk loses his voice knowing that one of perk's failings lay along the line of talking a bit too much on occasion, jack had taken pains to warn him against too much loquacity when making a night halt in this mountain town. he had had occasion to take his pal to task along similar lines more than a few times in the past. perk was too apt to forget that secrecy was always a leading card with all reliable members of the service in which he was enlisted. that he emphasized this fact on the present occasion did not mean there was a particular reason for keeping the lid on, lest some desperate character hiding in the isolated place from the long arm of the government's deputies try to do them harm--but simply on general principles. only too well did jack know there were men who had reason to hate all having any connection whatever with the secret service--men who had been sent to atlanta or leavenworth, to pay the debt they owed organized society. through the entire period of their incarceration never a day had passed without their renewing a vow to sometime or other to get even with the members of that organization responsible for their imprisonment. when their wheels came in contact with the ground in a perfect three point landing, they found themselves greeted by a number of men, ready to proffer any assistance that might be required, especially when it became known that the strangers intended to stay over night. the presence of a girl pilot aboard the visiting craft also aroused additional curiosity for likely enough this may have been the very first time the town had ever played host to a genuine aviatrix. perk, to make doubly certain he did not babble, decided to play dumb as much as lay within his power. he could talk hoarsely as though suffering from a bad cold and loss of voice, a tricky game that gave him secret amusement, jack rather suspected. jack soon learned they would surely find good accommodations at one of the hotels and a man who introduced himself as caleb cushman kindly volunteered to carry them there in his five-passenger car, handily near by. this neighborly offer jack immediately accepted, asking the other if he could wait a few minutes until some arrangement was made for storing their crate in a convenient hangar. everybody seemed eager to oblige, and jack really had to choose between three separate generous offers from as many parties. he had already discovered that a man wearing a pilot's outfit and who seemed to be in some authority, named bart hicks, was in addition to being in charge of the field, an instruction pilot whenever some young fellow aspired to learn the ropes, after fulfilling the examination necessary to being licensed as a full-fledged air pilot. so it was the part of diplomacy on jack's part, when forced to make a choice, to accept this man's offer under the belief that the amphibian would be better cared for and secured against any possibility of harm. of course he had no reason whatever to fear any rough-house treatment, but long years ago young ralston had learned the wisdom of "locking the door _before_ the horse was stolen" and thereby saved himself considerable trouble. an air pilot's ship is to him what the valuable race-horse represents to the track plunger--a thing to be guarded at all times as the day of the great turf events draws closer since some desperate gambler might attempt to dope the animal in order to win his heavy wagers. so too, it would be a simple thing to disable the motor of a plane or else so damage a wing that it must be out of the question for the craft to pursue its customary duties until it had been taken to a repair shop and put in condition. with time so valuable to them, so vital to buddy warner, they could not afford to take any chances. before he quitted the landing-field, he made up his mind to have a little confidential talk with bart hicks whom he had already sized up to be an honest, efficient airman to whom any one could tie with an assurance of being given a square deal. "perk, stick close to suzanne--i'll be back in a short time," was what he said to his chum. the other wagged his head as though he understood, even though there must be a certain amount of deafness on his part, caused by the continual racket of the motor and propeller, lasting from the time they took off in the gigantic colorado canyon. a number of willing hands took hold, and the big amphibian was shoved and hauled to a large hangar in which one ship had already been berthed. jack incidentally learned that the doors would be closed immediately and locked, although no harm had ever been done a ship since the airport was established. jack had already noted that they were getting to be up to the times, as if the citizens might be of an enterprising sort. landing lights had been installed while a flashing beacon close by had already started into action, showing that an airmail crate was expected any minute or else one was due to take off. it was evident that bart hicks felt a certain amount of natural curiosity concerning these guests of the field. he had noted that their ship was a brand new one and also the fact that the pilot who brought it down so cleverly must be an experienced hand. then too, the presence of suzanne interested him in the bargain, she looked so confident and had all the little airs of a full-fledged pilot in the bargain--trust his old eyes to discover these patent facts. "come far, sir?" he was saying casually after the ship had been safely housed in the big hangar, doubtless the property of the aircraft company contracting with the government for carrying the mails and express matter. "we spent last night in the colorado canyon and have been covering all the ground possible ever since, flying low so as to keep tabs on the ground for as you might guess, we're one of the many parties out searching high and low for buddy warner and his crate." "i reckoned you might be sir," the superintendent of the field quickly remarked, displaying more or less sympathy in his voice. "my pal and i have been thrown into the hunt by our employers like the rest of the bunch working the same racket," continued jack, diplomatically adding, "you see we happen to have run across a young woman pilot who had to make a forced landing down on the river sand in the canyon and it was absolutely necessary that we take her along with us. you can understand just why that could be when i tell you her name is suzanne cramer and that she is buddy warner's sweetheart!" bart immediately displayed the most intense interest it seemed, just as wise jack had figured out. he was a family man and in full sympathy with everything that had to do with the fortunes of honest, clean minded young people--for jack knew there was a heap of truth in that old saying to the effect that "all the world loves a lover" and he was now playing the game for all it was worth. "that's mighty fine i must say, mr. ralston," bart said, for he had learned the names of the two airmen, "and i must say that girl is some daisy, to start off searching for her beau, and she an air pilot in the bargain. i'm tickled pink to have you all stay over in our little burg for even a night and if we can do anything to help you out just give me the tip and it'll sure be done." that was just what jack most wanted to hear. before they took off again he was determined to do his best to get hold of some information that would prove of more or less value to himself and perk. "i'm meaning to ask you a few questions in the morning mr. hicks," he hastened to say, "especially connected with the country to the east and northeast, for i figure the chances are three to one buddy warner must have made a forced landing of some sort in that quarter. the wind, the night he vanished, was blowing from the southwest and pretty gusty at times. visibility was poor also, so if he lost connection with the beacons before reaching your station, he'd be blown off his course. do you agree with me, sir?" "i call it right smart reasoning," bart hicks told him. "three other ships dropped in here nights so as to save their gas and get some rest; and not one of the pilots seemed to know what course he ought to lay out--just kept swinging this way and that at random, hoping for a streak of good luck to strike them. i reckoned they were leaving a lot of ground uncovered, working without any system as they did." "that's what i thought would happen," continued jack quietly, feeling that he had already made a good impression on the other and could hope for results when it came time to "squeeze the bag." "we mean to devote ourselves to that particular locality so as to find out where he crashed and whether he is still alive or not." bart hicks gave a shrug with his broad shoulders. "for the sake of that little girl, i sure do hope you find him alive, partner," he said feelingly as became one airman toward another. "she came straight out here from his old mother," continued jack, "who gave her blessing to the mad scheme; but now that she is in our charge, my pal and i will see that she comes to no harm. i am greatly obliged to you, mr. hicks, for your kindness in sheltering our ship. you can understand what it means to us now, while on this sad errand of mercy, to know that no harm will happen to the crate." "don't mention it partner!" hastily exclaimed the other. "why, i've been just itching right along to get busy and look over that territory you've been speaking about, but my duties here kept me pinned down, though i took it out in doing a heap of growling and swearing too. tell the little girl for me, will you, that we've all been wishing her buddy would turn up safe and sound. i have a daughter about her age, i reckon, and i just know how she must feel. see you in the morning at daybreak, mr. ralston." "thank you again many times, sir." jack felt that he had made a warm friend in honest bart hicks. he saw the respectful way in which the field superintendent shook hands with suzanne, after all of them had entered the gentleman's car and were ready to start for the hotel and how pleased the girl looked as he murmured a few words of sincere sympathy. things at least seemed to be working along the line he had laid out. of course, no one could say this early in the game whether anything worth while would develop from the circumstances springing out of their decision to spend the night in the valley town. xxiv one chance in a thousand the little hotel to which they were taken by the kind owner of the five-passenger car proved to be all they could wish for. it looked scrupulously clean and the rooms to which they were shown seemed to give promise of a comfortable night's sleep, though jack doubted whether the excited girl would obtain the rest she needed so much. he promised to knock on her door at daybreak so that they might secure the early breakfast he had ordered and be off to the flying field to make a start. he and perk had a double room with twin beds and were not long in turning in, both of them being more or less tired after a gruelling day aloft. jack had no idea they would be disturbed during the night, for they were utter strangers in the town and such things as robberies were absolutely unknown, or so the hotel proprietor had assured him in answer to an incidental question. he was up at the first peep of dawn and had perk on his feet without any unusual racket. later on jack kept his promise about tapping on the door of suzanne's room and was a bit surprised when she opened it, disclosing the fact that she was fully dressed as though she had been up for some time, which indeed was a fact. he would never forget the yearning look she gave him when, seated at the table, they started their simple breakfast. it was as though her heart were in her throat, choking her and jack, realizing the girl must be close to the breaking point, quickly started talking of outside matters and even cracked a little joke to try and divert her mind from the subject that had gripped her day and night for so long. about the time they settled their account and were ready to start for the field, a car stopped at the door and their accommodating friend of the night before, mr. caleb cushman, accompanied by his wife, appeared. they came early to have the pleasure of taking them to where they meant to start off again--perhaps his good wife also wished to meet the brave girl who was the now famous buddy warner's sweetheart. apparently they both knew about this important fact, showing that mr. cushman must have been in touch with bart hicks by telephone since last they saw the latter, and learned this thrilling circumstance that might put their little town on the map, with all the big newspapers of the country blazing inch high scareheads on their front pages when covering the latest sensation along aviation lines. although jack would not admit that he felt the least uneasiness concerning the safety of the amphibian, nevertheless he gave a sigh of relief when after looking the ship over he found everything in shipshape condition. "get that gas aboard as quick as you can, perk," he told his comrade for he had contracted to have the tank filled to full capacity while the chance held good, and besides he wished to have a little further conversation with affable bart hicks, with the hope of picking up a few crumbs of information in regard to the terrain they meant to cover on this most important day. accordingly he drew the ground superintendent aside and plied him with a variety of questions, all of which the accommodating test pilot answered to the best of his ability. jack had him describe the general character of the ground and just as he anticipated, learned that it was actually the roughest section in all the region. "rocks--deep gullies that seem to have no bottom--peaks with slithering points that look like the savage steel tips of spearheads--the worst territory for a poor devil of an air pilot to crash in or have to make a forced landing that you could run across in a hundred square miles. i'd say there wasn't over one chance in a thousand that the lad could get to the ground alive and even granted that he did, wounded as he must be, he never in the wide world would be able to find his way out of that hole. i'm sorry to have to say that, mr. ralston, but it's the truth." jack may have winced, but just the same he showed not the slightest sign of being yellow. "tell me about that thousandth chance, brother," he observed, at which the other looked him keenly in the face, shrugged his shoulders and went on to say: "guess you're clear grit all right, son. the best pilots are built that way. look at our lindy now, and you'll find he never flinches, no matter what happens but always does the one right thing as if by instinct. fact is, when i mentioned that there might be a tiny loophole for a poor devil who had to go down in that god-forsaken stretch of wilderness, i must have been thinking of that strange old hermit who has a secret hideout somewhere in that country. there's a beautiful little clear water lake surrounded by peaks and heavy woods that no white man's ever fished in or set eyes on at close quarters, 'cept maybe that queer old chap." "please tell me all you know about him," pursued jack eagerly, just as if he was trying to clutch some minute shred of hope that was difficult to capture. bart hicks laughed shortly. "i can tell you all that in a jiffy mr. ralston," he hastened to reply, "because none of us happen to know anything at all about who and what the old party is. about twice a year, spring and fall, he bobs up here with a sure footed mule and buys all sorts of grub and stores. he never stays overnight and seems to hate the sight of a real house. some curious minded folks, thinking that perhaps he had struck a rich mine there in that rockhouse district, have tried to follow him but had to give it up and come back beaten. he doesn't fetch free gold out with him but plain, everyday government yellow-back bills. we don't know a thing about the secret trail he takes to make his way through all that riotous land. "i've heard pilots tell how they'd seen spirals of wood smoke rising and those who happened to be flying low say they could see his campfire was close to the brim of that crater lake--for some say it lies in the crater of an extinct volcano. that's about the whole story as far as any of us know it, mr. ralston and i'm winding up by saying again it would be just one lone chance in a thousand that a poor air pilot dropping down there would be found and rescued by that mysterious old hermit." "as you say, it's a desperately small opening and not very promising at best," jack told his new friend with the same resolute look on his face, "but it may be we'll have to place our hopes on such a slender chance after all. at any rate i'm meaning to look into that matter before giving up the game as impossible. it wouldn't be the first time such a mere thread turned into a stout cable that's saved the ship from destruction." "never say die, eh? i'd think that'd be your motto, mr. ralston," observed the field superintendent who apparently had come to have more or less admiration for the young air pilot who carried himself so buoyantly, so confidently, as though he absolutely believed in himself. by now perk had finished his job of refueling the plane and was rubbing his soiled hands with a bit of waste. "all fixed, are we brother?" asked jack and for almost the first time on record, those close by learned that perk was not at all dumb, but had a fluent voice of his own. "wall," he drawled with a wicked wink toward jack, "guess now she's loaded to capacity an' then some 'cause i've got six gallon cans o' juice stowed away where they ain't goin' to take up much room, an'll keep us on the wing a bit extra. then too, partner, here's a waiter comin' from our hotel joint carryin' a package o' eats in the shape o' sandwiches which i took the trouble to order an' which you'll have the pleasure o' payin' a hull dollar for right on the spot." "good for you, perk!" laughed jack, who seldom had to worry about a sufficiency of food when traveling in the company of such an excellent provider as gabe perkiser who never had any difficulty in hearing the "call of the eats" so many times per diem. apparently they were all ready to make the jump-off, the amphibian having been taxied to the head of the runway where a simple slant would help give her "gangway," as perk often called it. just then bart hicks came up and shoved a bit of paper into the pocket of jack's leather flying coat. "just take a squint at that when you find time, brother," he remarked and held out his hand for a parting grip. "shake hands, jack, and here's wishing you all the luck going in your present job as well as in all others they put on your shoulders--you too, perk old hoss." there was something a bit mysterious about the way bart hicks said that, and perk had it on the tip of his tongue to demand an explanation but since the pilot just then drew back the stick and the motor commenced to roar as the amphibian started down the slant, he had to take it out in a goodbye wave of his hand and let it go at that. they rose like a bird long before the termination of the runway had been reached for those sloping wing-tips were fashioned so as to make it easy to take off successfully in one-third the distance formerly deemed necessary for a ship with a powerful enough set of motors to lift a heavy weight and get away with it. looking back, suzanne could see the little bunch that had seen their takeoff, including some mechanics and field hands as well as bart hicks, mr. cushman and his wife. they were all waving their hands wildly and possibly giving tongue in the bargain, although the noise prevented her from making sure of this. she answered their salutes with her little pocket handkerchief and then wiped her eyes as though the long repressed tears just would break through her guard, and run down her pretty cheeks. they were now fully launched on another day's weary though eager search, with no one being qualified to prophesy what the outcome of the new flight would be. jack had mapped out in his mind the country over which he meant to fly with little save his own conception to assist him. one thing was sure, when they had covered a stretch of several miles in a straight run, it could be set down as certain nothing had missed their close attention and that there would be no necessity for returning over the same ground again. this was a fight to a finish and a clean-up as they went along, so jack kept hugging that tiny hope to his heart and wondered what the eventual outcome of the adventure would prove to be. as yet it was a toss-up, as far as he could see. xxv the never say die spirit "hot ziggetty dog! all set now for another long spin, combin' the country as we go along, eh partner?" perk had no sooner arranged his head-phones after seeing that jack had his fixed for service, than he commenced business at the old stand. perk was just burning to get certain things out of his system that had been dammed up by his playing dumb on the previous evening. "so far as i know nothing has been overlooked perk--if only that left wing aileron doesn't play us a dirty trick and fall off, we'll be alright." "i tell you i tested it an' it's okay, jack, don't crab my game if you have any respect for my feelin's. when i say a thing's all to the good it's there, every time." "forget it brother, we've both been under a heavy strain lately and apt to show undue anxiety. today ought to prove which way the wind's going to blow for us. see, already she's at the old job, covering every rod of ground with the powerful glasses. all i can say is i wish her all the luck going, poor kid." "but just the same you ain't any too--er--sanguine--is that the word i want, partner? a sort o' yearnin', hopin' but kinder afraid things mightn't turn out so well in the end?" "i get you, perk, and according to my notion there are three of us in the same boat right now. i'm holding the ship in right along, so we'll make certain nothing gets away from us." "yeah, an' by the way jack, didn't i see our good pal, bart, stick somethin' in your pocket jest before we skipped off--looked kinder like a piece o' paper to me--did you ask him for his home address or somethin' like that?" jack laughed. "so you saw him do that, did you, old hawk-eye--no, i didn't ask him for anything in that line--he did more than enough for us as it was." perk seemed to be consumed with curiosity which he made no attempt whatever to smother, for after a bit of grunting he went on to say suggestively: "huh! that looks a whole lot queer to me, partner. why should bart hicks want to act like he might be an informer, tryin' to hand you a leadin' clue to a smashin' big mystery an' on the sly in the bargain? huh! seems to me he must 'a' had some good reason for doin' sech a stunt as that!" "thunder! perk, if you don't make me think of the picture we used to see in the magazine ads, where a baby in a bathtub is reaching out to get hold of a cake of soap with a well known brand on it with the words 'he won't be happy till he gets it.' right now you're just eaten up with curiosity about that slip of paper bart crammed down in my pocket and there'll be no peace in the camp till you know its contents." perk unblushingly chuckled, as if ready to "acknowledge the corn." "lemme have the stick, partner," he hastened to suggest, "i'm jest as fit as a fiddle to lay things out for a few hours, an' mebbe it'll tone me down some." "oh! all right brother, here you go then." the transfer was made "as slick as grease," according to perk's mind and so jack felt in his coat pocket to immediately draw out a sheet of paper, evidently torn hastily from an account book, and upon which there was considerable writing, none too legible. he fastened his eyes on this and perk could see that whatever the tenor of bart's secret communication was, it appeared to afford jack considerable interest. several times as he read on he nodded his head, as if agreeing with certain statements in the missive, all of which redoubled poor perk's eagerness to have a share in the proceedings. "well, that certainly takes the cake," jack was heard to say after he had evidently reached the finish of the note. "ain't you goin' to let me in on the fun, partner?" begged the other almost pathetically. "i'm sure all het up with a desire to know what's goin' on." jack nodded his head again and then started to relieve his chum's mental burden. "seems like the joke's on us, perk, old boy," he began. "joke hey? bart hicks played one on his unsuspectin' guests then, did he?" perk grumbled as if terribly upset. "i didn't think he was that sorter cad." "oh! you'll take that back after you find out what i meant by the word 'joke'," jack hastened to assure him. "listen, partner, i'm going to read you the whole letter, because it's no easy job to get the hang of bart's handwriting. reckon he wasn't great shakes at penmanship when he went to school, for he does spell something fierce, but i'm going to keep this, all right, for it's a cinch bart outsmarted two fellows who reckon themselves some clever at their business. but listen and grab what he says here." "go to it, old hoss," begged the waiting perk most eagerly. "'hats off, boys--i'm on to your curves okay. happens i got a younger brother a holding down a job in the same crowd you run with--mebbe you remember young doug hicks, him that fetched in all by his lonesome the four ginks makin' up that slick gang of international crooks doin' business as the keating bunch'--what d'ye think of that, perk, doug hicks turning out to be the kid brother of our new friend, bart, isn't that the limit though? well he goes on this way: 'he often mentioned both you lads in his letters to me, and when you introduced yourselves i just knocked wood, but didn't let on i got the drift of things. but say, don't you worry any, boys, i'll never leak a drop, so your secret is as safe as a new dollar bill. go to it, and fetch in buddy warner, for if anybody can do that, it's bound to be you two. so-long. your friend, bart hicks, all wool and a yard wide.'" perk was making all manner of queer faces as though this wonderful disclosure had taken his breath away but through it all there struggled that happy-go-lucky grin of his, to proclaim his full appreciation of the contents of the flying field test pilot's unique communication. "jest what that gink is--all wool and a yard wide--honest goods, you bet every time," he finally managed to say with numerous chuckles accompanying the words. "sure we know doug hicks, the boy who's goin' to make a name for himself in the secret service one o' these days, if he don't get bumped off by some hijacker's lead. queer what a little ole world this anyhow--kickin' up against bart hicks in this jumpin'-off part o' the country. we sure do strike the strangest happening in our line o' work, don't we?" "we certainly do," came the quick reply as jack folded up his letter and put it carefully away. "while you're doing duty brother, i'll get busy with some calculations i have in mind. keep her headed just as she is, and in half an hour we'll bank and come back along a parallel line, so as to cover all the ground up and down, up and down, through the whole day." it was gruelling work, but the only possible thing they could do if they meant to make certain that they had investigated every rod of that terrible terrain that lay on every side, looking as though at some remote time in the past, nature had been turning things topsy-turvy and making a mad havoc with the entire land of gigantic rocks and sink holes. so two whole hours crept along with a number of abrupt turns, now north, again south, steadily covering the ground. but sad to say there had as yet been discovered nothing to breed sudden hopes and expectations. haze there had been in patches, owing to some humid condition of the atmosphere in certain quarters, but never the first sign of friendly smoke curling upward in spirals, nor yet a glimpse of any sort of half concealed mountain lake such as had been described to them by bart hicks. it was now drawing on toward the middle of the day and perk having turned over the controls to his chum at the latter's request, was taking things easy, having relieved suzanne of the binoculars which he handled with the skill born of long practice. several times during the morning the girl had begged jack to take a look and tell her if she had deceived herself in thinking there was some favorable sign ahead or on either side. much as he would have loved to confirm her wildest hopes, jack found himself doomed to give a disappointing answer and so see the look of anguish that passed over her erstwhile eager, smiling face. the grim truth must be faced--there was no break so far to the monotonous cruelty of the landscape with its unpromising features the only result of all this search. then too, other discouraging happenings came along to add to jack's concern. for one thing, the wind was increasing and at times striking them head on so as to cause more or less unsteadiness to the flying boat, as well as upsetting certain of his calculations. this was not at all to jack's liking and he showed it by his repeated upward glances, as though endeavoring to read the impending weather conditions by the looks and movements of the clouds passing over. it was also becoming more and more treacherous as their work took them up and down, now soaring above some outlying crag mass and again dipping into a valley that seemed only a fit abode for the grizzly bear in search of lonesome districts where the feared human, with his magic stick that spit fire and smoke and painful missiles, could never come. would their entire day be put in without a breath of cheering hope? must they turn back, and possibly spend yet another dreary night in the little valley town, dispirited and with the poor girl in despair? it began to look that way, even if worse might not be their portion. so it can be easily understood that when perk got out some of his sandwiches nobody seemed to be hungry save himself, which deplorable fact was not at all to the genial fellow's liking. even the usually even-tempered jack was beginning to show signs of the long strain, though he managed to conceal it as much as possible out of consideration for the suffering suzanne; but it was hard to assume a hopeful face when up against a tough proposition as they undoubtedly now were. the wind was getting stronger, there could be no discounting that positive fact which added to jack's concern not a little, for he realized that should a storm come along it would put an effectual end to all their hopes of accomplishing anything. perk too, had taken the alarm and was also sending occasional glances aloft. xxvi crater lake along about an hour after perk had made his lonesome midday lunch and marveled at the fact of his being able to only devour three of those toothsome sandwiches the chef at the hotel had put up at his order, things had arrived at such a point that jack felt it was only the part of wisdom for him to do whatever lay in his power to keep track of their bearings. if that rising wind kept on increasing in strength so that it even threatened to wind up in a genuine smashing gale, the chances were they must either make some sort of a forced landing, or else climb up above the storm clouds so as to avoid new and more appalling perils. in so doing they would lose track of their points of contact and be compelled to go all over the same ground again or take chances of picking up the broken thread of their search wherever they had to drop it. thus hard set, jack began to try and take note of various unusual formations--using the binoculars in so doing--that, stamped on his receptive mind might serve as landmarks just as "targets" do the harbor pilots when fetching a deep sea vessel in through the shallows to port and safety. sometimes small fishing smacks, driven from a promising field by wind and huge billows, are able to mark the spot by an anchored empty water keg and in this way are able to find the fruitful spot when the weather moderates. such a stratagem however is not available to the air voyager, whose only resource lies in a retentive memory. when another half hour had slipped by, jack began to once again entertain a hope that this emergency might not reach a culmination. if anything, the wind had lost a modicum of its fierceness and twice he discovered a little break in the cloud ceiling by which they were covered, as though the sun were trying to peep through. thus things were going along as the middle of the afternoon was reached. perk at the controls was mentally comparing their condition to that of a shipwrecked crew of a sunken vessel; out of water with their hearts almost in their throats with anxiety, shading their eyes with their hands and searching along the horizon for signs of a sail. somehow the comparison gave perk much concern, and he tried to imagine the great joy that must fill the souls of that forlorn little company when suddenly one of their number shouts out the glorious news: "ship ahoy--a steamer's smoke smudge to larboard!" but it was only suzanne asking jack to please take a look and tell her what that lumbering, ungainly object might be which she had discovered moving across the rocks under the keel of the flying boat. "i never happened to run across one before," jack presently explained, "but i'm sure it must be a mountain charlie, as i understand people out in california call the silvertip grizzly bear. some monster in the bargain, miss cramer and you'll agree with me when i say i'd rather be here than there." she nodded her head as if to let him know he was right but when jack saw a shadow pass over her face he understood what was in her mind--that her poor wounded buddy might be lying there helpless, with that savage monster drawing nearer and nearer, sniffing the air and following the scent that sooner or later would take him to the spot where the fallen air mail pilot lay. she shuddered and put a hand in front of her eyes nor could she be induced to make use of the glasses again for quite some time. she evidently feared lest she once more glimpse that horrid hairy animal, shuffling along in his shambling fashion, ready to attack any creature that came in his way, be it bird, beast or human being for was he not the king of the mountain fastnesses, utterly unafraid? jack felt convinced fortune was proving kindly disposed toward their mission of humanity. that troublesome wind was slowly but surely diminishing in force and gave promise of finally dying out in another hour or so. at least they were not going to be forced to call the search off as long as daylight served. jack had not as yet decided in his mind what to do after twilight came and the face of the country became blotted out in the gathering gloom of night. it might be possible for them to keep going, in hopes of discovering the tempting glow of a campfire among the tall trees of the timber belt; but discretion would more than likely force them to give up operations until yet another day. the risk would be much too great, flying at that low altitude across such a dangerous wilderness where at any minute some unseen rocky cliff might suddenly rise up before their speeding aircraft bringing about an unavoidable crash, an explosion and--oblivion! and then it came to pass, after all those weary and distressing hours of search--this time suzanne uttered a shrill shriek and trembling all over held out the binoculars toward jack crying: "oh! tell me if i am going out of my mind jack! is that really and truly smoke curling up from over there?" she clung to his arm and continued to point, trying to keep her hand from wobbling to and fro because of her emotion. jack quickly focussed upon the object that had caught her attention. perk understanding what it must all be about, even if unable to catch the meaning of what was being said, watched jack's face, well knowing how it was sure to register his thoughts. "smoke it is, for all the world!" jack declared, immediately adding further words of good cheer; "and as true as you live, i can catch a gleam of sunlight falling on clear water!" "crater lake, jack?" demanded the duly thrilled girl, now all aglow with renewed hope and expectation. "it must be," admitted the other, still looking through the glasses, "we were told there is no other body of water in this entire section. you know bart said that old hermit was believed to have his hideout close by the ice water lake, for smoke had been seen rising of mornings when the air-mail carrier went through a bit off his course." he made a gesture to perk the other readily understood. it meant that he should immediately bank and go back again on the same track so they could have yet another opportunity to use their eyes and learn if things were as hopeful as they had been led to believe. jack managed to glance in the direction of the girl close by. it was plain to be seen that suzanne was tremendously agitated by this sudden discovery of both the secret hideout of the so-called hermit and the nearby crater lake, concerning which they had heard accounts from bart hicks. not a single word passed her tightly compressed lips but in her whole demeanor there was an expression of wonder, eagerness and fear--the last no doubt on account of certain possibilities that, after all their efforts they might have arrived too late or else that the hermit had seen nothing whatsoever of the long missing flyer. jack too, knew they were banking on what must be called a long chance for thus far it was only a mere surmise that caused them to seek out the hidden retreat of the man who shunned his fellows. not a single thing had come to their notice to affirm that buddy warner had ever flown over crater lake in any of his passages to and fro, although his usual course lay within a few miles of the extinct volcano. "i'll take the stick now, perk," he announced as they once more caught a glimpse of that curling, eddying smoke column and then sighted the cliff encircled lake of the mountains. one thing jack had already settled that the sheer rocky walls did not entirely encompass the sheet of water. there was a section at the near end where the ground sloped down to the very edge of the lake. jack could see this with his naked eye--no further necessity existed for using the magnifying binoculars, he concluded. then of a sudden jack felt a warm glow pass over his whole body. what was this he saw projecting from the lake close to the shore? he had on some other occasion looked upon a wrecked plane partly submerged in some body of water, fresh or salt and here he found himself staring down at a similar object. this would tell the story, jack thought, better than any words could do. some aviator must have attempted to drop down upon the lake, perhaps to ease the shock of contact when forced to descend through an accident to his outfit, that was a positive thing and what was more reasonable than to conclude the unfortunate airman must be the missing pilot for whom so many flyers were scouring the whole country up and down, east and west? he half opened his mouth as though to call the attention of suzanne to his thrilling discovery and then stopped short. she would find it out for herself quickly enough and if there was a bitter disappointment awaiting the brave girl, far be it from him to hasten the coming of her grief. now they had begun to circle the lake itself and once directly over the body of water, jack could see it was indeed a real gem. a small but select sheet that, save for the presence of the hermit close by, had probably never been fished by a single white man. a perfect trout preserve, he told himself, in the ecstasy of a born fisherman. it was what perk would call a "reg'lar cinch." there was not the slightest reason to hold back, for never an obstacle could jack discover calculated to give them trouble in making contact with the water. once safely floating on the surface of the mysterious lake, they could taxi over to a position close to the sloping beach where a landing might be effected in order to search for the hidden retreat of the lone settler. once, twice, three times did he make a complete turn around the circular pond and then having his plan laid out, he dove down until close to the shimmering surface when he suddenly leveled off and then gently continued the drop, to fall upon the bosom of the beautiful harbor almost as lightly as a wild duck would splash down from on high. and then suzanne discovered the half submerged ship, with its nose out of sight and its tail pointing up at the northern sky. it was a melancholy and ill-omened spectacle indeed, speaking as it surely did of some unfortunate airman's swift plunge from lofty heights to strike the tiny lakelet. indeed, it might even have been his intended target when the terrible drop was first begun. suzanne gave a cry and held out her quivering hands toward the wrecked plane as though all doubts were now removed as to her buddy having dipped down into this pool when his ship became unmanageable. xxvii the end of the air trail the crisis for which they had been preparing during the entire aerial trip was now a reality. before many more minutes had passed they would know that which they came to find out--whether buddy had clung to life during the long, agonizing interval, or had "gone west," as so many in his perilous calling had done before him in a blaze of sacrifice and glory. they were now floating on the surface of the little mountain lake in the midst of the most wonderful surroundings the human mind could imagine. here centuries ago had been the wide vent of an active volcano and at intervals from this same opening, now so quiet and peaceful, there had undoubtedly burst forth vast waves of molten lava accompanied by sulphurous smoke and thunderous sounds, as though nature had broken her chains and meant to reshape the whole western world. later on, when his mind was more at ease, jack ralston could in some measure paint the terrible picture and in his mind imagine he saw the bubbling lava, rolling down the side of the rocky mountain with frightful havoc all along its tortuous course. just then, however, but one matter engaged his entire attention. where was the strange hermit of crater lake? why did he not show himself when he surely must have watched their coming and successful descent? had he been able to save the life of buddy or would they be shown a mound of earth amidst the heaped-up rocks where the valiant young air-mail pilot lay in the sleep that knows no earthly awakening. "look yonder, jack--somethin' movin' among them bushes!" perk was saying in his ear, for since the engine no longer kept up its roar and the propeller had ceased functioning, it was possible for them to hear ordinary sounds. "mebbe now it might be that four-footed ole grizzly b'ar an' i ort to get my rattler o' a machine gun in hand." "don't bother about that, perk," jack told him, "see, it's a man, and chances are we're going to meet the queer old hermit of the mountains right now." even as jack was thus quieting the fears of his chum, the object of their observation walked into full sight and was hastening to reach the border of the clear-water lake close by where the only sign of a beach occurred. he was not a startling figure at all and seemed garbed in ordinary clothes that had evidently been selected for long service when far away from tailors and housewives. his face was bearded and his hair white but he strode along with a swinging step that told of bodily vigor and good health. reaching the border of the water he seemed to be giving them the "once over," as perk called it in his suggestive way. "there, see, he's beckoning for us to come closer," said jack with something approaching relief in his manner. "i see what looks like a clumsy boat made from the trunk of a tree drawn far up on the shore. reckon he uses the old tub when he feels like doing a little fishing. we'll taxi in as close as the depth of the water allows and then if necessary we can wade the balance of the way, carrying suzanne between us." as he turned to start his motor he had one look at the white face of the speechless girl and as long as he lived jack would never forget the tense agony he saw stamped there. it hardly seemed as though suzanne was breathing as she stared at the figure of the strange old man on the shore in whose hands as she well knew, lay the power of life and death insofar as her happiness was concerned. one word from him would tell the whole tragic story. then the motor began to hum and with a dextrous hand jack sent the amphibian scurrying toward the beach. perk meanwhile snatched up a pole he always kept handy for such a purpose and thrusting it into the water, sounded the depth as they went along. when presently perk called out just what he had been waiting to announce so grandly "by the mark, twain," jack shut off the engine and the plump of the anchor immediately followed, perk having that useful hook ready at his hand. "you are searching for him, i take it for granted?" said the hermit, at the same time pointing to the wreck of the plane not many yards away with its disconsolate looking tail in the air and its nose apparently buried in the mud a few feet under the surface. "yes, we are one of a score and more of plane parties scouring the whole side of the rockies," replied jack, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking for the suspense had him in its grip as well as the poor girl. "did you manage to save him, sir--tell us--or--or was it too late?" he heard a low, bubbling cry, or was it a sob--at his elbow but his eyes were riveted on the tall erect figure of the mysterious recluse. the other was nodding his head--surely that could be reckoned a favorable sign. jack again summoned his courage to the fore and went on to ask the crucial question: "this girl, sir, is the sweetheart of buddy warner, whose strange disappearance has thrilled the entire nation--have pity, and relieve her dreadful suspense--is he alive?" another nod, and in the affirmative, accompanied by a ghost of a smile. then came the words that would ring in jack's ears for many a moon: "alive, and with a good chance for recovery, i am glad----" "quick! catch her, perk!" yelled jack as he felt the girl falling in a dead faint from the reaction. the relief proved too much for the strained condition of her nerves. a dash of ice-cold water from the lake soon revived her and she smiled at the pair bending over her so solicitously. "we must get her ashore without any delay," announced jack, for he had great fears lest the enraptured girl take it upon herself to jump overboard and without any assistance from either of her guardians manage to make land. perk instantly dropped into the water which came almost up to his waist. it was pretty cold, but what did that matter to one so fond of calling himself a "tough old guy" and able to negotiate where others would shrink back. suzanne sprang into his arms as though not a second was to be lost in reaching the side of her beloved buddy. so too, did jack follow the example of his pal, determined not to be cheated out of the glorious sight when suzanne and buddy were reunited. once they were all ashore, dripping wet, but heedless of so little a thing under the circumstances. the master of this lonely region led them along what seemed to be a narrow, well trodden path, circulating among the piled-up rocks and trees, until presently they reached a rude shack from the stone chimney of which arose the tell-tale smoke that had been their guiding beacon in discovering the retreat of the recluse. suzanne dashed ahead of their guide and they heard her joyous cries as they reached the open door. she was down on her knees, her arms around a figure stretched out on a rude cot. and so it was that jack and perk came upon the lost air-mail pilot whose hand they were soon squeezing with heartiest enthusiasm. buddy was bandaged pretty well and confessed to a broken arm and quite a lot of bruises, all of which would keep him "on the shelf" for a month or so but everything was "all right," he told them and expressed amazement as well as pride when told that suzanne had not only received her pilot's license, unbeknown to him, but even made a long and successful solo flight in the mad desire to join in the wide search for him. the hermit was saying nothing, only listening with great interest and jack could easily see that somehow this strange happening must have renewed his interest in the outside world from which he had for years been a stranger. such chattering as followed. the happy girl turned every little while to beam upon her two faithful squires as if she could never forget how much they had done for her. perk stared at her as though entranced. evidently he had never imagined there could be so much loveliness in all the wide world as he saw pictured there in her rosy face with eyes like twin stars. for such a delightful little "dame" the honest fellow would have braved the perils of niagara or the whirlpool rapids, if need be, to see such rapture steal over her face. the proud feeling, that he had been able to prove of service to suzanne in her hour of blackest despair, would reward him ten times over for any bodily discomfort he may have endured. and buddy too, he was surely worth finding--so jovial, so chummy in his ways and, lucky guy, with so dainty a "best girl" to hover over him and be his devoted nurse. no one would ever know the part he and jack had taken in this happy ending of the widely published mystery attending buddy's vanishing in the night. the rules of the service to which he and his pal had sworn allegiance forbade such a thing as publicity. to have their pictures sent throughout the land, with an account of their previous successful labors in rounding up transgressors of the law, would put an effectual damper on any future jobs coming their way. it was not to be permitted under any circumstances whatever and not only the hermit, but both buddy and his girl must solemnly promise never to disclose the names and vocation of the two airmen who were mainly responsible for the finding of the lost aviator. that, however, was a minor matter to both comrades. they were not in the secret service of uncle sam for any glory or honors that might be showered upon them. they did not risk their lives day after day with any hope of being decorated with a victory cross or any ribbon telling of foreign service. it must be sufficient reward for them to feel that they had performed their duty to the best of their ability, no matter what its character and, backed by the long arm of the law, brought wicked violators to the bar of justice, there to receive the penalty for their crimes. one thing jack noticed almost immediately was how everything connected with the bandaging of buddy's broken arm had been carried out with astonishing neatness. had he been a patient in some hospital, attended by the most famous of surgeons and with a clever nurse as his attendant, he could not have been in better shape. jack looked again closely at the mysterious recluse, noted the keen eye, the slender, agile fingers which moved with dexterity when he fixed up some little slip in the bandage and made up his mind that the world had undoubtedly lost one of its most gifted surgeons when this unknown man took to the woods, so to speak, for some reason never known. buddy was a bit weak and his host bade him not to keep talking too long, since excitement would not be good for him in his present condition--indeed he had quite enough as it was. but suzanne begged so hard to be permitted to wait upon him and promised to keep him quiet, that she was finally given permission to do so. perk too, had noticed the way in which the hermit had done such a wonderfully fine job in attending to the one he had rescued from drowning after the plane had crashed; for he too, seemed to steal a sly glance in the other's direction whenever he felt he could do so without being detected. for one thing, the near miracle of buddy's being able to drop down into the shallows near the sandy shore had doubtless kept the plane from being wrapped in flames and possibly eased the plunge more or less. "when i dragged him out," the owner of the shack explained to jack and the latter noted how musical his voice seemed, so full and clear in the bargain, "he would not allow me to even look at his wounds until i had found and rescued four sacks of mail. you would have thought the contents of those bags were of greater value than his own life. that is what i'd call being faithful to a trust. but now i must ask both of you gentlemen to follow me outside where, as a rule i do my cooking. while we make ready to have supper, such as the limited stores will allow, we can talk over things and you may be able to figure just how you expect to take off again in the morning for it is too late now to consider going." a little later on, while jack was aboard the ship getting certain things that he wanted, perk sidled up to the earnest old man with whom their fortunes had been so strangely thrown, and with one of his capacious grins remarked casually: "if you'll excuse me for sayin' it, mister, i kinder guess now your name might be doctor whitelaw reeves!" when the other heard him mention that name he started as though he had been stung and looked perk over with those keen eyes of his, and then a faint smile broke out on his stern face. xxviii around the campfire "how does it come, my young friend," remarked the recluse of crater lake moving closer to the grinning perk and apparently greatly moved, "that you are mentioning a name i have not heard spoken for the last seven years?" "huh! it happens, doc, that i got some memory. specially o' faces," candidly replied the aviator. "course you've changed a heap since i knowed you, but back o' it all i could ketch the same look you had then when you fixed me up so dickey." "ah! that is what it means! so you were once a patient of mine. i hope i served you well, to cause you to remember me so long!" and the hermit patted perk on the shoulder in what seemed to be a very friendly way. "hot ziggetty dog! i'm sayin' you did, doc--looky here and see how the things healed up," and as he said this, perk rolled up his sleeve, exhibiting a stout arm marked by a series of red lines zigzagging here and there and giving evidence of being a reminder of a most serious wound. the hermit looked and nodded his head. "rather a tough proposition it must have been," he remarked with a show of interest. "you jest bet it _was_!" vociferated perk. "that bally english doctor wanted to take the arm off--said it'd save my life, but what use would life be to a birdman with only one arm? then you came along and done the trick, doc. never could forget what i owed you. finest operation ever done on that line, the american surgeon said afterwards." "ah! very kind of him, i am sure," said perk's companion, obviously appreciating the implied compliment, "and would you mind telling me just where, and under what conditions all this happened? it may assist me to remember the particular instance out of the hundreds i handled?" "in the argonne, doc--i came down in flames after sendin' two out o' four heinies ahead o' me. 'member you told me my mother had ought to feel proud o' her boy--which she sure was, doc. course it couldn't hardly be 'spected you'd 'member me, but i guessed i'd keep think-in' 'bout you as long as i lived. an' to think we'd run up agin each other like this--it certainly is a small world, as i've said before." "while i don't happen to remember the particular circumstance, my friend," the other went on warmly, "it's a pleasure to know that you did pull through with both arms and have apparently continued to ply your dangerous, if glorious calling ever since. shake hands with me, will you? i'm proud to renew our acquaintance and it comes at a turning point in my life also." he glanced affectionately at buddy lying there on his cot with the girl hovering over him, smoothing the blanket as only a woman can and lavishing looks of adoration on her hero pilot. "for years i have been mourning the fact that after being shell-shocked on the battle line during the closing month of the war, i had lost my touch for my vocation; for a surgeon depends a great deal on his hands for the success of his delicate operations. then _he_ came into my life as though dropping down from heaven itself. the necessity for immediately handling his injuries started me back into the old rut again and i was thrilled to discover that my finger-tips were as sensitive as ever. then i realized that since god was so good as to restore to me that which i feared had been lost forever, it would be wicked for me to remain shut up away from my fellows when so many suffering people were holding out their hands to me for aid. my prayer had been heard and i have resolved to go back once more to labor in the field that can never have an over supply of workers." what he said so seriously, so joyfully, thrilled perk to the core. he felt that both he and his chum jack had had at least a little to do with this loyal determination on the part of the once expert surgeon to again offer his services to the uncounted multitude of sufferers in every great city of the nation, and insofar as he could effect a cure, bring happiness to many a home that was now shrouded in darkness. later on, when perk had a chance to tell this remarkable happening to the deeply interested jack, and they had talked it all over, they came to the conclusion that the supposed loss of his skill as a result of his shock, was not the only reason causing doctor reeves to have that mysterious yearning to seek the solitudes of nature in an effort to shun his fellow men. he may have met with some bitter disappointment, perhaps from the hand of the woman he loved, who had proved faithless. but all this was none of their business and jack agreed with his pal when perk declared they were treading on forbidden ground in even speculating about it. "no matter what it was," jack ended the talk by saying earnestly, "he's apparently gotten over that upset. time heals wounds of the heart we know, and if he's the wonderful surgeon you say, he can do a heap of missionary work among the hospitals during the rest of his life. i'm mighty glad we've run across him and he seems to have fixed up buddy here just prime--says he'll be able to get back on his job in four weeks and be just as good as ever." "bully for doc. reeves!" exclaimed the enthusiastic perk, still a little dazed over the amazing coincidence of meeting the professional man to whom he owed so much. they found that the hermit--who would be called by that name no longer if he kept his new resolution--had a stone fireplace close by his shelter where he was accustomed to carrying on such cooking as was necessary. perk immediately took possession of the "cooking galley" as he was pleased to call the small addition to the shack where a meagre assortment of pots and pans were hanging, and proceeded to provide supper. he would not allow the proprietor to render the least assistance and also declined the offered help of suzanne, telling her she could do more good as a nurse than trying to help him. he had long been waiting just such an opportunity to "sling the grub" and was not going to be knocked out of this fine chance. jack, knowing how the other was enjoying himself, offered no objections so perk found himself monarch of all he surveyed and boss of the kitchen. perk dragged the clumsy dugout belonging to the late recluse to serve as a ferry between the anchored amphibian and the shore. later on jack saw him fetching a number of things up to the vicinity of the shack and chuckled, highly amused, to note that among them was the submachine gun with its belt of ammunition. he could readily surmise what that meant. perk must have remembered seeing that monster silvertip bear waddling along among the piled-up masses of rock not so very far distant from the shack of their present host and with some dimly defined notion in his head that he might wish to again play sentinel and guard to the camp, was determined to be in condition to meet any situation that might arise. oh! well, if it pleased perk to imagine dire things hovering over their heads, and if it afforded him real happiness to assume the duties of a posted sentry, why should any one wish to cheat him of such an innocent recreation? it could do no harm but on the other hand would give the vigilant one a feeling of satisfaction, thought jack. "only i do hope," jack was telling himself under his breath with a fond glance toward the object of his soliloquy, "if he's bound to save us all again, his victim turns out to be a little more ferocious than a wretched half-starved prairie dog, creeping up to smell out a bone or two thrown away after a camp supper." perk was a busy and willing worker for the next half hour, dodging in and out, bending over his cooking fire that had been coaxed to a point approaching perfection with several pots and pans resting on the large gridiron that the ex-hermit evidently used principally for roasting his potatoes in their skins, he being no great hand at achieving culinary triumphs. some men are born to one profession and others excel in quite another line. doc. reeves' specialty was surgery, that of jack might be set down as general excellence along the duties of an air pilot and also fairly well equipped to play his part as one of uncle sam's energetic secret service men while perk had a notion he shone in no one particular line, but could get up about as savory a meal, under existing conditions, as the best woods guide. he certainly surpassed himself on this particular occasion. the odors that soon began to permeate the atmosphere all around that lonesome spot caused jack to show uneasiness, as though he could hardly wait for perk to call them to partake of the glorious feast. "why, if this keeps on much longer," he told himself as he walked up and down near by as a very hungry man is apt to do when waiting for supper to be put upon the table, especially if it is in camp, where appetite reigns above ordinary likes and dislikes, "he'll have the whole neighborhood saturated with the smell of whatever he's cooking. if there's a hungry mountain lion or a half-starved grizzly within a mile of here, he'll make a trail to this nook right away. what's that emerson wrote, that if a man invents the best mouse trap ever built the world will make the deepest kind of a trail flocking to his woods cabin to patronize him? and perk's sure _some cook_, i admit!" the agony was finally brought to an end and they settled down on bits of logs and a couple of ricketty chairs the self-exiled surgeon had manufactured at some time or other. a small table, also home-made, fairly groaned under the most bountiful supply of "camp grub" imaginable and the grinning perk eager to serve it out in generous portions. even the injured buddy developed an astonishing appetite. doc. reeves, now radiant and full of good nature at the way he had been brought back to his one consuming passion, which he feared was gone forever, declared he had not sat before such a gorgeous feast for many a long year. suzanne too, saw fit to add her praises while she ate and ate, as if trying to make up for the several meals she had missed while laboring under such a heavy load of suspense. as for the cook himself, he showed no sign of his late labors having diminished his capacity for stowing away tremendous quantities of food, as those who prepare meals so often declare. but there was enough for all and a bit to be thrown out for the squirrels, rabbits, or any larger species of hungry mountain denizens that might care to investigate the appetizing odors. they sat around in the faint light of the only lamp available, used only occasionally by the doctor on account of the difficulty of transporting kerosene such a distance on muleback, and talked on a variety of subjects. buddy was of course eager to learn what was being said concerning the mystery of his disappearance and must have been duly thrilled when jack and perk recounted some of the many things they had read under flaming head-lines in the daily papers coming under their observation from time to time. when questioned, he told in simple words just what had happened. it was nothing original, just such an accident as might happen to the most skillful of air pilots, though not all of them live through the experience. chancing to see the little lake which was not by any means the first time he had glimpsed it, since on several occasions he had flown above it while carrying his mail pouches to and from airports, he had tried to make a halfway safe landing on the strip of sand at that end of the round pond but failing by a dozen or more feet, plunged into the water. he lost all knowledge of what happened, coming to his senses a long time afterwards to find himself on a cot with the recluse just completing his wonderful job of attending to his broken arm and the many bruises about the rest of his person. dr. reeves said but little, seeming quite content to listen to the voices of his little company of guests thrown so unexpectedly upon his hands but it was easy to see he was far happier that night than he had been for many years, with the future again beckoning and looming up as a wide field where he could apply his services in behalf of his fellows. it was decided that buddy must keep his cot for the night. they made up one for suzanne with several fairly well cured animal pelts, mementoes of certain beasts the recluse had shot or trapped, either for their skins or to be used as a change of diet. jack and perk were old campaigners, and could find an apology for a bed on the ground near the fire while the surgeon said he meant to sit on a chair in the kitchen and spend the night in general rejoicing over his good fortune in "coming back." jack teased his chum a bit when he saw the other lugging that sub-machine gun over to where he was going to sleep, but perk only grinned, and nodded, as though he really enjoyed the prospect of once more remaining on guard. xxix no prowlers allowed perk was more than usually sleepy when he lay down with the gun close by the fire. perhaps he really did not expect to be called upon to defend the camp since the doctor had assured him there had never been any serious trouble from the inmates of the wilderness, though he admitted he had now and again found some evidence in the morning that a large beast had been prowling around while he slept behind a closed door. but having made up his mind to do his full duty, perk was not to be turned aside either through arguments or ridicule. he lay there doing his best to keep awake by reviving long since buried memories of his activities across the sea when in france. then he "passed out," as he himself would have termed it, to awaken and find the fire in need of replenishing. there was an abundance of wood close at hand so, still half asleep, perk got to his knees, picked up an armful and rising to his full height stepped over to the smoldering fire. as he cast his burden on the red ashes some of the smaller stuff started up instantly, causing the immediate vicinity to appear as though illuminated by a flash of vivid sunlight. perk heard a sound that was not unlike a loud sniff. this startled him and his returning animation was hastened when he caught a low growl, thrilling him to the center of his being. instantly he stared in the quarter from which these strange sounds proceeded. a movement concentrated his attention on a certain point. some object that resembled a bulky, dark, living thing commenced to rise up until the startled perk though it would never stop growing. there it was standing before him--the same monster he had seen from his seat aboard the air ship. a full-grown grizzly, the "mountain charlie" of the california ranchers and hunters, a very giant of devilish ferocity and unafraid of anything that walked on two or four feet, monarch of the foothills and canyons of the mighty rockies! the grizzly growled again, this time with added vigor as if wanting the wretched invader of his hunting grounds to thoroughly understand he would put up with no trifling and that he must speedily "skip the ranch" unless he wished to be scattered around the whole neighborhood in pieces. "holy smoke!" that was as far as perk got in starting to express his agitated feelings for the standing bear had made a movement that started him toward the campfire and the amazed aviator. perhaps by this time jack may have also awakened but perk gave no heed to such a possibility. as the self-appointed guardian of the slumbering camp it was up to him to stand like a rock in its defense. no right or left tackle on the gridiron ever made a more furious plunge in an effort to stop the hurtling progress of the enemy player carrying the pigskin toward the goal posts than perk set in motion just then, urged on as with a goad by the necessity for clutching that firearm upon which he was depending so much. he landed in a huddle, snatched at the gun, dropped it in his wild excitement, pawed around for what seemed a full agonized minute but which evidently lasted less than five seconds and finally found himself clutching the object of his mad groveling. even then he got mixed a bit and was presenting the butt of the weapon toward the oncoming growling bear when, recognizing his mistake he managed to swing it around. another blunder just then might have cost him dear but perk, now fully alive to the emergency cooled down sufficiently to move the little lever which would start the machine-gun to spitting out its discharges in one--two--three style as long as the belt of cartridges held out and he, perk, refrained from shutting off the mechanism by which it was worked. the bear was not twenty feet away when this hurricane of lead began to rain upon him with oft repeated thuds. his growls had been followed by the most dreadful roarings to which those near-by cliffs had ever echoed. he dropped down on all fours, shuffled this way and that, like a boy trying to evade the attacks of a swarm of maddened yellow jackets whose nest he had the temerity to strike with a club. but all without avail, since the now equally aroused perk had only to switch the muzzle of his little cannon a trifle to continue bombarding him right along. the gigantic beast rolled over this way and that, stroke to get upon his feet again, his bellows becoming less vociferous as his wounds increased with frightful rapidity. there could be no telling when perk would ever have stopped firing only that a hand grasped his weapon and turned it upward toward the starry heavens while the voice of jack roared in his ear: "hold hard, brother, you've got him shot full of holes as it is. what's the use ruining his hide? some day you'll be proud to rest your feet on a rug made from a genuine old grizzly you potted all by yourself out here in the rockies." so the fully aroused perk managed to curb his warlike spirit a bit and shut off the flow of deadly missiles. "gosh amighty jack, did you see me knock the ole hippopotamus silly when i opened on him right smart? some ruction while she lasted, i'll tell the cockeyed world! gee whiz! he's kicked his last an' there he lies as quiet as a lamb." "he's your meat okay, buddy," jack assured him after which he turned to explain the meaning of the frantic outburst of firing for both dr. reeves and suzanne were in the doorway of the shack, demanding to know what it was all about and if anybody were hurt. "huh! on'y one that's hurt real bad lies over yonder with his toes pointin' up to the skies!" laughed the proud marksman. "reg'lar he-grizzly, with a bellow like a range bull. tried to rush me, don't you know, but it turned out he couldn't chaw lead an' so he quit cold. an' me, i'm figgerin' on having the smartest rug you ever set eyes on made from his hairy hide if i c'n trim it from his carcass come mornin'. some stunt for little perk to put on the boards, if i do say it myself, as oughtn't." "queer how i have managed to keep the peace with that scamp for so long," observed the doctor with a whimsical laugh, "and then he chooses to go on the warpath just when i happen to have company for the first time in years. but that was the proper caper, perk, and you deserve to have a beautiful rug to show when telling this thrilling exploit to your grandchildren." "wow! go easy on a feller, please, doc," expostulated the embarrassed perk, "why, i ain't even got a girl yet. you see, they gimme the razzberry, mebbe 'cause i'm so handsome. but i'm meanin' to get that rug fixed up, if the pelt c'n be dragged off the big varmint in the mornin' an' that's that." examination showed that although a number of the bullets sprayed forth so promiscuously by the ardent sportsman had punctured the hide of the bear, these small holes would not prevent its being repaired and made useful, if one chose to spend a little time and cash for the desired result. so while perk absolutely refused to call his vigil off and get some sleep, he had the comforting assurance that his work had not gone for naught. "yeah! don't try to cramp my style, partner," he told jack who was trying to argue that lightning seldom struck twice in the same place, "course i understand how that grizzly ain't goin' to gimme another scare, but how do we know that he ain't got a mate an' if she comes prowlin' around this roost an' runs across her big boy lyin' there all bloody and cashed in, why she might go on a tear an' smash things into kindlin' wood. yep, i'll finish the night on my post. time to pick up any lost sleep when we're back in old cheyenne jest loafin' an' waitin' for orders to start out on a fresh job." knowing how stubborn perk could be when he took a notion, jack made no further attempt to persuade him and the last he saw of the bear-killer, perk was sitting there, his back against a stump, with the formidable machine gun across his knees, all set for business at the old stand. let all the silvertips in the entire rocky mountain section step up and give him a dare, with that wonderful gun that reminded him of old days in france when he was with the la fayette escadrille, flying for france and her allies, he felt equal to a full dozen of the shaggy beasts. so the balance of the night passed and finally came the dawn of a new day that would thrill the nation with the startling news covering the finding of the missing air-mail pilot. xxx bringing in their man with breakfast out of the way jack called what perk termed a "reg'lar council o' war," for there were numerous matters that would have to be settled before they could take off and head for civilization. dr. reeves gave it as his opinion that if great care were exercised, buddy could be transported to the nearest town but the injured mail pilot absolutely refused to go unless his prized letter bags accompany him, such was his devotion to duty. then there was perk also as set on having that valued bear skin, removed with the help of the doctor, who had learned the art of skinning an animal while cast upon his own resources. besides, there would be two others aboard the amphibian which was apt to make things a bit crowded. however, dr. reeves soon settled the matter by declaring he did not mean to accompany them. another day, if jack and perk wished to have it so arranged, they could come for him. he had some things to accomplish that would take a few hours and there was no necessity for him to be on hand when buddy reached town to create the wildest kind of excitement. indeed, the eminent surgeon admitted he rather shunned anything that would be apt to put him in the limelight. "if there's anything i'd dislike," he told them modestly, "it would be to find myself in the spotlight i hope to just slip back into the harness again and the public need know nothing save that i have changed my mind about retiring from the profession for good, having discovered that there is still more or less usefulness in my brain and fingers that ought to be put to the service of suffering humanity." so it was arranged and without more delay than was absolutely necessary they managed to get buddy aboard the amphibian, jack and perk having arranged an original floating dock that could be pushed alongside the cloud-chaser, rather than try to work the plane ashore. the transfer was duly carried out and with such care that buddy felt very little pain. next the air mail, so long delayed in delivery, was stacked in various cavities so as to not take up more room than was necessary together with a rather messy bundle, perk's prized future bearskin rug which he seemed to value more highly every time he gave it a look. everything was now ready for the hopoff and jack figured on no trouble whatever in effecting that since the lake was long enough to permit a fair run and immediately after leaving the water he expected to start banking so as to circle and climb upward. dr. reeves shook each of his new found friends by the hand and was unusually warm in saying his goodbye to the happy suzanne. the bravery shown by the newly fledged aviatrix in taking great chances of meeting disaster when striking out to join those who were searching for signs to tell where the young air mail pilot had crashed, aroused his full admiration and he did not hesitate to tell suzanne as much, greatly to the delight of the listening buddy. standing on the sandy shore of crater lake the man who had come back watched the wonderful amphibian, of which the two pilots were so proud, rush across the surface of the lake, the first modern flying boat to ever splash through those ice-cold waters, and then jumping upward, cleave the air like a monster bird, circling twice, three times, to finally take off in a bee line for the town where jack and the others had passed the preceding night. they arrived at their destination before an hour had passed and amidst the most intense excitement and a growing, cheering mob of men, women and children, the injured mail pilot was taken to the hospital, there to be cared for until dr. reeves joined him later on. of course suzanne refused to be parted from her buddy. she claimed to be a pretty fair nurse and indeed, her very presence acted like a tonic to the patient who could not keep his sparkling eyes off her pretty face for more than a minute at a time. jack had impressed every one with his desire for secrecy. if it could be avoided, no mention of his name or that of perk, or their pictures, was to be given to the bustling newspaper men who would quickly be rushing in from every quarter by motor, train and airship, eager as hounds in the leash to grab up bits of news that could be woven into one of the most thrilling stories of the day to set the whole country agog, east, west, north and south. thanks to the care thus taken, the real facts connected with the finding of buddy warner were fairly well kept from the public press. all sorts of fantastic accounts were published and some even managed to bring out the names of the pair most intimately connected with the great stunt but they were so distorted that perk had considerable fun in trying to make them out. he declared a wizard would have his hands full with the job and that most people must believe the modest heroes, who fled before being interviewed were foreigners, to judge from their unpronouncable names. wishing to finish his work as soon as possible so that he and perk could clear out before most of the keen-eyed reporters arrived, jack concluded to hurry back to the lake, pick up dr. reeves and what few things he would like to carry away from the hideout where he had spent so many solitary years and once he had been landed in the airport, say a hurried goodbye to all and pull out eastward bound for cheyenne. that was the way jack ralston usually put things through. while most others would be still making up their plan of campaign, jack was apt to be doing things with a rush and getting results. they had followed the best rules of the great organization in which they were humble cogs, let no grass grow under their feet, found what they sought and, with a garrison finish, brought in the man they were after and whose name was on everybody's lips during those few hectic days. duty done, it was up to them to vanish from the picture in order to keep the public from knowing how the government's secret service had been mainly responsible for the finding of the missing air-mail pilot. and so that same afternoon, while fresh squads of eager newspaper men were arriving hourly at the hitherto almost unknown town that had become famous over night, jack and his pal were bound east, with a consciousness that another triumph could be laid at their door, even if, as happened so many times, the full story must be kept under cover so that the people of the underworld, in which so many of the activities of the service were conducted might not be made familiar with the names and faces of its most energetic workers and thus be placed on their guard. of course it would not be long before further instructions might be expected from the washington headquarters detailing jack and perk to some fresh field of labor where once more they would find themselves pitted against some of the most nimble-witted lawbreakers known to modern days. that the adventurous pair would acquit themselves with credit can be taken for granted for they were always earnest, hard workers and as a rule able to accomplish the most difficult of jobs submitted to their charge by those who managed all such matters in the national capital. in the pages of the next volume of this series of thrilling stories covering the exploits of the sky detectives, the title of which is "_the sky pilot's great chase_; or, _jack ralston's dead-stick landing_" will be found further lively happenings when the daring pair are sent forth to cross the international boundary and speed into the far north in the effort to apprehend a fugitive from justice whose arrest and return to washington had become a matter of the greatest moment to the authorities. how they outwit the lawbreakers and finally get their man, makes this a story replete with thrills and exciting situations. flying the coast skyways or jack ralston's swift patrol by ambrose newcomb author of trackers of the fog pack wings over the rockies sky pilots great chase the sky detectives eagles of the sky the goldsmith publishing co. chicago ------------------------------------------------------------------------ copyright, the goldsmith publishing co. made in u. s. a. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ contents i by air-line to atlanta ii the cipher letter iii the leech hangs on iv perk has an adventure v their running schedule vi by the skin of their teeth vii on the air-line to charleston viii ships passing in the night ix when the dawn came x ready to strike xi where war once broke out xii when cousins get in touch xiii picking up facts xiv perk gets an earful xv the trial spin xvi all in a day's work xvii spinning the net xviii black water bayou xix the lonely camp xx the mother ship xxi the motor-truck caravan xxii down to business at last xxiii at the rendezvous xxiv perk rides in the ghost boat xxv a well oiled machine xxvi striking out xxvii the luckless speedboat xxviii ready for another blow xxix jethro takes a hand xxx the wind-up--conclusion ------------------------------------------------------------------------ flying the coast skyways chapter by airline to atlanta "big smoke dead ahead, partner!" "i've been expecting to hear you announce that fact, per--i mean wally!" "kinder guess naow it mout be birmingham, eh, what, boss?" "no other--you hit the nail on the head that time, mr. observer." "huh! my _native_ town, which i'm naow agwine to see fur the fust time." "better get out of the habit of making such crazy cracks, brother--what if any one overheard you, and took a notion in his head you might be somebody other than just a down-in-dixie product from alabama,--raised in the north, where you acquired a whiff of the dialect of a canuck--and by name wallace j. corkendell, though generally answering to plain _wally_." "hot-diggetty-dig! that ere smoke cloud sure looks jest like an ole peasoup fog-pack we done got lost in not so far back. by gravy! i doant b'lieve we'll even git one squint at the pesky city as we fly over the same!" "i can easily see where i'm bound to have a lot of fun listening to you trying to talk in three different lingoes, all mixed up in one great mess--yankee, your native brogue; canadian patios, contracted while with the northwest mounted police; and now a pidgin english, such as a southern colored boy might use. i only hope such a mixture doesn't queer the big game we've got laid out ahead for us, whatever its nature proves to be." "i er-_reckons_--_yeou_ says i gotter use that word right along naow, 'cause no alabama white or black boy never does _guess_ anything--i reckons, suh, i'll git a strangle-holt on the way a gen-u-ine cracker keeps up his end o' a talkie--given a little time fo' practice." "that begins to sound like the real stuff, comrade," observed jack; and despite the clamor of engine exhaust, and whirling propellers both of them were able to hear every word uttered, simply because they were wearing their usual earphone attachments, without which they never made a flight. "i'm beginning to feel encouraged to believe you'll come through with flying colors. there, we're directly over birmingham, and going strong to eastward." "huh! i'm right glad yeou done tole me so, suh," perk hastened to reply, doubtless with one of his usual chuckles; "'case all i kin make aout's a black smudge o' smoke ahuggin' the ground, with a few church steeples apokin' a finger through the same. so, there she lies, my own, my native city! ain't it affectin', though, ole pal, acomin' back like this, after many years, an' discoverin' that same thick smoke fog asettled daown on the dear old place? gee whiz! i'm jest awonderin' whether us southern kids ever _did_ have a gen-u-ine ole swimmin'-hole in them _won_-derful days, eh, what?" when they were positively alone, and no danger of crafty eavesdroppers picking up their words, the two cronies were pleased to extract a certain amount of fun out of their assumed characters--for jack ralston of course was also sailing under a _nom-de-guerre_, as well as his best pal--with him the new name was "rodman warrington," and he was supposed to be a rich and eccentric new york city sportsman, weary of the routine of the carrituck sound shooting club to which he belonged, and ardently desirous of exploring the various bays, sounds and twisting rivers along the wild coast of north and south carolina, as well as georgia. "to be sure they did, brother," jack was saying, reassuringly, in reply to the skeptical question propounded by his running mate; "if you stop and think you'll remember how every american boy who grew up and amounted to shucks was always getting a great thrill out of memories of such a meeting-place, where all the boys took occasion to show off in doing stunts with a diving board." "say, naow 'at we've left dear ole birmingham in the rear, haow long 'fore we drop daown on candler field outside atlanta?" "depends on what time we keep making," jack informed him; "we're speeding along at a hundred-and-twenty clip just now, with only two motors working; and if there was any necessity for fetching it up to an even hundred-and-fifty we could easily enough do the same--and then some. i reckon we'll come in sight of candler field in about an hour-and-a-half--the chart tells me it's something like one-fifty miles, as the bee flies, between this southern pittsburgh and the capital of georgia." "meanin' to stop over in atlanta long, partner?" demanded perk; who apparently was not wholly advised of his leader's plans, as far as they were matured, and as usual "wanted to know." "around twenty-four hours, possibly less, buddy," jack explained. "we've an appointment, made for us from headquarters in washington, to meet up with a certain official connected with the secret service, who holds forth in atlanta--from him we'll receive a certain amount of information, and be referred to another party, high in the secrets of the service in charleston. when we jump off from that south carolina city we'll know all we're expected to carry out--what we've been called east to accomplish. there, that's everything in a nutshell; i'm as much in the dark as you, even though i reckon i've figured things out, if a bit hazily, to tell the truth." "we're goin' after some sort o' big game, i er-reckon, partner?" perk speculated, his manner making the remark seem like a question. "no doubt about that, boy--they wouldn't have called for us to fly all the way from san diego, (with two necessary stops to prevent spies from learning as to who we are, and why we're heading east) if it hadn't been that some others in the secret service had played their innings--and fallen asleep at the switch." "hot-diggetty-dig! i'd say that'd be a neat compliment they're givin' us, ole hoss," perk exulted; as enthusiastic as a boy over a christmas present of a brand new shiny pair of club skates. "another thing i'd like to hear tell 'baout, ja--er, mr. warrin'ton, suh." "as what, partner--you'll notice that i'm trying to call you all sorts of chummy names--that's for the purpose of trying to forget i ever knew you as perk, or gabe perkiser. if you do the same there'll be less chance of giving our game away; for if any kind of quick-witted spies should hear us exchanging words they'd remember the real names of the two sky detectives who were playing particular hob with gents who gave uncle sammy the laugh. now, i reckon you're referring to that letter i had just before we lifted out ship at san diego last night." "yeou said it, er-ole pal," replied perk, catching his treacherous tongue just in the nick of time. "i kinder--reckoned it mout acome from the gent over in san diego, who's been aour boss since we started operations 'long the coast." "a fair enough guess, brother," jack told him; "because that's the official who gave us the order to break away, and what to do on the skyway east. there was also some interesting information concerning the job we finished up some weeks back; and i meant to hand that over to you; but somehow failed to connect." "i'm right tickled to hear that, suh--fack is i'd begun to feel they wasn't zactly treatin' us white, not sayin' as haow we'd done the service proud, the way we fetched slim garrabrant back after he'd broke loose from the pen, an' started his ole tricks again."[ ] "oh! they were quite enthusiastic about the success of our work, after others had fallen down on the job--that is, as warm as those cold people at headquarters ever do get, it being against their principles to over praise those working under them, for fear of giving the poor guys the big-head. you can read the letter before i destroy it, brother. the big boss in l. a. also wrote that slippery slim had been safely returned to his former cell in leavenworth, and with an added sentence; so, as they'll watch him closer from now on, there's small chance of our ever running up against him after this." "well, he was a good guy when it came to tacklin' big games, i'll tell the whole world," observed the satisfied perk; who again busied himself with his reliable binoculars, eagerly surveying the checkered landscape a mile or more under the bottom of their fuselage; and which continued to prove of considerable interest to perk, this being actually the first time he had ever passed over that section of the southland, despite his absurd claim to having spent his boyhood days in birmingham, ala. the time drifted along, with their speed undiminished. pine woods, tracts of corn, cotton, tobacco; acres of fruit trees, pecan groves, even sugarcane patches--all these signs of the southland he kept seeing as the miles flew past. "i kinder--er-reckons as haow we've done shot past the dividin' line 'tween alabam 'nd georgia, boss," he presently announced, with a grand air of superior knowledge; "case i jest seen a town squatted on a river, an' painted on the roof o' a house was a name, fo' the benefit o' fliers like weuns--tallapoosa she read, which tells me that must a been the river tallapoosa--all bein' 'cross the line in harlson county, georgia, ('cordin' to my map here.) if that's correct we right naow ain't more'n fifty miles from aour goal--less'n half an hour yet to fly." "you are hot on the trail, comrade," jack assured him. "keep your eyes skinned to pick up another smoke cloud dead ahead, which will be the first sign of our nearing atlanta, the new york city of the south." perk continued to watch and wait, until finally he gave a half suppressed whoop, to add exultantly: "it's a _big_ smoke smudge, all right, buddy; so we're rushing daown on aour goal like a river afire; which pleases a feller called wally okay, yeou bet!" ----- footnote : see "trackers of the fog pack." chapter ii the cipher letter jack did not seem to be at all surprised when his best pal made this abrupt announcement; but then he always kept himself prepared for coming events. "i was expecting to hear you say that, buddy;" he told his mate; "for the past fifty miles on, our string up to date had about run through. i reckon we'll be on foot before many more minutes. get the airport yet--wally?" "sure do, and right naow i kin glimpse a big--looks like our fokker, agoin' to drop daown." "yes, possibly belongs to either of the latest lines using candler field for a base--eastern air transport, for passengers and mail; and southern air fast express--covering the route between los angeles and atlanta--both now-a-days carrying capacity loads, the papers have been saying." "shucks! takes yeou to git things daown pat, big boss," perk went on to comment. "where do we go from here, mister?" "after we've made arrangements for housing our crate," explained jack, good-naturedly--although he had told his chum the same thing at least twice before the present occasion--perk could be so forgetful, he remembered--"we'll make straight for the henry grady hotel, where we'll find a letter in code awaiting us, unless there's been a nasty hitch in the arrangements." "but--yeou said we had to meet up with some gent here, partner?" "that's right, too, wally; but only after i've decoded the letter from headquarters, which is going to put us wise about the nature of our present big adventure. no great hurry to get moving on, as far as i know at present; so it might be we can hang around atlanta a day or more. but both of us will have to play our parts, and fend off any too inquisitive newspaper men. i've learned that the atlanta reporters are keen on picking up every scrap of aviation news possible, so's to make up a story that will go well. we shun that sort of notoriety, don't forget, brother, as the devil does holy water." they were by this time circling candler field, which seemed to be bustling with feverish activity--planes of various types were either landing, or else starting up; while several could now be seen cruising at sublime heights, either being put through their paces by pilots, or what was more likely carrying excursionists in the shape of "sandbags," greenhorn air holiday makers, out to get an experience that would give them a superior advantage over friends who had never as yet gone aloft. jack made an exceptionally clever landing, and then turned over the stick to his mate, as if eager to make it appear that perk was the _real_ article when it came to being the head pilot of the multi-motored cabin fokker, that had not the least sign of a name, nor yet a number to identify it. a number of men came running toward the rather retired spot where jack had purposely come down. leading them was a little whipper-snapper specimen, in a rather loud checkered suit, who gave all the recognized signs of being a hustling, live-wire newspaper man, always on the scent for some unusual happening such as could be turned into a thrilling story,--such keen investigators are to be found at nearly every airport worth while, eager to satisfy the curiosity of the multitude of readers who are developing air mindedness at a rapid rate. "greetings gents;" he started in to say, with a cheerful grin on his sharp features, and holding a pencil in one hand while he had a pad of blank paper all ready in the other. "if you would kindly give me a few facts connected with your identity, where you jumped off, whither bound, and so forth the many readers of my paper would be glad to extend to you a warm welcome to the gate city of the south." jack gravely shook hands with the diligent worker, and obligingly fed him a little cock-and-bull story, giving the names he and perk had recently taken upon themselves, and merely stating they were from texas, bound to atlanta on private business connected with aviation circles. he did this to quiet the news gatherer, until they could dispose of their ship, and get started for the hotel in a taxi to be hired near by. jack knew the breed to a dot, and felt confident the lively chap would fill in enough imaginary details to make an interesting account; so that was that, and he was at liberty to turn to the one in authority with whom arrangements could be made for parking the big fokker in a convenient hangar at so much per diem. of course wise jack had seen to it that never the slightest clue could be discovered by the shrewdest spy, to indicate what these air travelers really had in view--he was quite willing that such a sneaky investigator examine the ship from one end to the other, and welcome--the gravest danger of discovery would lie in some indiscreet remark on the part of perk; but even this did not give jack any considerable worry. they were soon on their way into the heart of wide-awake, bustling atlanta, and presently brought up at the noted hostelry, to which they had been directed to proceed. jack, after dismissing the taxi, followed the hotel attendant who had seized upon the two bags they had with them. he registered without ostentation; and no sooner had the clerk taken a look at their names, when about to assign them a double room on the third floor, than he remarked casually: "a letter waiting for you, mr. warrington," and after shuffling a pack of envelopes swiftly, he handed jack a registered letter, bearing the washington postmark across the stamps. jack carefully deposited the same in an inner pocket; then a minute later they both followed a bellboy into the elevator and ascended. when finally they found themselves behind a closed door perk turned an eager face upon his comrade, as he remarked in a low tone, with a nervous look all around, as though half expecting to discover some eavesdropper peeping out from a closet, or from behind an easy-chair: "she kim okay, seems like, ja--er mr. warrington--then things they're keepin' on the move, an' we're a step closer to aour field o' operations than when we started aout, eh, what, suh?" "lock the door, brother--i'm going to get busy decoding this letter, after which you'll know _everything_. now settle down in that chair, and give me ten minutes of time for the job--possibly a bit more, since i see it's rather a long communication." perk followed these directions out, and continued to watch the other as a terrier might hover over a hole in the kitchen wall, from which he expected a rat to thrust out his nose at any second. jack took a little more time than he had reckoned on; but, being expert at reading the secret cipher code adopted by the government, in the end he had mastered the entire contents of the letter of instructions. "pull over this way a little, partner," he told the feverishly waiting perk. "i want to lower my voice while explaining what it's all about; and we just can't be too careful, since walls sometimes have ears especially in this day of the hidden dictograph. to begin with," he went on to add, "we seem to have guessed fairly well that it was bound to have some connection with the smuggling business along the atlantic seaboard, between norfolk and savannah." perk's grin was enormous at hearing this. "didn't i jest _know_ that'd be aour job?" he chuckled, evidently vastly pleased at having "hit the target in the bull's eye." "ever since we carried on so well daown in floridy along back, i been 'spectin' unc. sam'd root out same kinder game fur us to get busy on onct more." "but this promises to be the biggest adventure we've ever tackled, bar none, brother," jack proceeded to explain. "this letter goes on to tell what an enormous amount of unlawful stuff is being flooded on the country through a powerful syndicate that's said to be backed by some heavy unknown parties with unlimited capital at their control. ours is going to be the task of finding out who they are; and likewise throwing a monkey-wrench into the smoothly running machinery by which they have been cheating the government revenue right along, getting bolder and bolder, so that they virtually snap their fingers under uncle sam's nose." "gee! that sounds fine to me, ole hoss," gurgled perk, rubbing his hands vigorously together as he spoke. "i jest kinder allers did yearn to tackle things sech as had a tough reputation behind 'em. course there's been a wheen o' customs men atryin' to squash this combine--it's allers thataways, seems like!" "yes, looks as if the whole business is running true to form, brother," jack further admitted. "the chief candidly tells me they have been laying all sorts of clever traps for many moons, only to have these skip-by-night lads give them the laugh. he hopes we'll meet up with better luck." "if so be it's a fair question, partner, haow do they reckon this traffic she's bein' kerried on, to slip by the fast customs patrol boats an' land the cargoes safe an' sound?" "that's where the crux of the whole affair seems to come in," jack thrilled the other by saying. "a few craft from bimini have been overhauled, and seized, though as a rule the crew always managed to slip away, jumping overboard close in among the reeds, and disappearing in the brush along the river bank. but these occasional seizures never made even a dent in the immense operations, the chief admits." "how come then, buddy--bet yeou a cookey 'gainst thirty cents they got a line o' flyin' boats doin' the business." "my stars! how wonderfully keen you are about guessing things; for that's just what this letter admits; and now we know why they called on us to get in the game--we seem to have made a big hit with the chief, on account of how we managed to use our wings, and beat the old nick at his own game of high-spy." "ain't it great, though, to know they do 'preciate _somethin'_ we've kerried aout? but what's the idee o' aour headin' fur charleston after we kick aout o' this burgh, eh, partner?" "there are a lot of things to be said and done before we can break into the game; and we'll get fully posted by the government agent in charleston. besides, we've got to handle another kind of ship,--in fact an amphibian, capable of dropping down on water as well as on land, and taking off the same way." "glory be! naow ain't that fine?" perk exclaimed, ecstatically. "i never yet had anythin' to do with them crocodile type o' boats, an' never 'spected to; so this same is a big s'prise, as well as a pleasure--thank the chief fur me whenever yeou're writin', baby." "okay, brother," came the ready answer. "fortunately it happens that i'm somewhat familiar with the handling of that type of boat. besides, we're under orders not to hurry things along at all--to take our own time, and get fully in touch with our new craft before starting on the job for keeps." "air we meanin' to handle this layout all by aour lonesome?" perk questioned. "as a rule, yes; but we are also expected to call upon certain skippers of fleet patrol boats to lend a hand. he's given a list of four rum chasers whose commanders will recognize the signal we give, and place their craft at our disposal as long as we wish; so you see we're to really be in command of a squadron, if the necessity arises. i'm meaning to take down the names of the four customs boats before i destroy this illuminating letter, according to instructions." then jack went on to speak of other things the letter had contained, with the intention of posting perk regarding the immensity of the task being given over to their handling. "he described this wide-stretching conspiracy to smash the coast guard service as a species of octopus, reaching out its myriad of arms, so as to cover the entire coast line--deliveries have been accomplished with almost clock-like regularity, and the custom service is being made a laughing stock among those in the secret. no wonder the chief is feeling hot under the collar; for i reckon there never as yet has been a time like the present, when all the best laid plans of his most skillful and bravest men have gone on the rocks. i've a feeling that if we manage to give this big conspiracy its death blow, there isn't a favor too great for the boss to grant us." "what's bein' kerried in mostly, partner--does he tell us that?" "he mentions expensive liquor, of course, as the principal contraband," jack informed him "but narcotics as well have been coming, in unknown quantities, straight from china, also some country in the balkans, turkey being suspected. then there are diamonds, and other precious stones that carry a heavy duty; laces; expensive havana cigars from cuban factories; and even chinese immigrants, so eager to land in the country of opportunity and dollars they are willing to pay enormous sums for transportation, with a safe landing guaranteed." "the more the merrier, sez i," snapped perk. "yeou was asayin' a bit ago it's b'lieved they done got rafts o' spies pickin' up secrets o' the customs service, so's to trick the boats into startin' aout on false leads, that leaves the landin' places unguarded--mebbe, naow, ole scout, yeou even goes so far as to reckon that slick newspaper gink might be jest sech a peek-a-boo boy, aout to put the kibosh on aour fine game." "you never can tell, buddy; if you meet him again play the deaf and dumb racket, which is the only safe plan." chapter iii the leech hangs on "hot-diggetty-dig! seems like the more we poke into this here business, the warmer it gets!" perk exploded, banking on the safety of their hotel room to keep his language from being heard. "oh! like as not all this is only the opening gun of our new campaign," was his companion's cool comment. "later on, when we find ourselves neck deep in the mixup, you'll be looking back, and smiling at what you're saying now. from present indications i'd say this affair is giving promise of being the biggest case we ever had the nerve to tackle." "the bigger they get the further they falls, partner, doan't make any mistake 'bout that ere fack," said perk, grimly. "huh! sometimes i get to thinkin' what happened up in that hole-in-the-wall outlaw retreat, and i'm awonderin' what ever did come o' that gang after we kicked off with aour prisoner."[ ] "which reminds me i didn't think to tell you _all_ the news that was contained in that letter from los angeles--want to hear it now, brother?" "sure do, mister," snapped perk, greedily; "it'll amuse me while i'm awashin' up here in aour neat little bathroom." jack followed him into the next compartment, evidently so that he could keep his voice down to a low pitch. "something like a week later," he told the listening perk, "they took off in the biggest crate they could commandeer into the service--half a dozen fighting men, heavily armed, and prepared for anything that might come along. good weather favored them, and they came in sight of the valley among the high cliffs in the daytime. "after circling, and lowering their altitude, they could not see the least thing to indicate the presence of a solitary human being; so finally the pilot set them down exactly on the smooth landing field the gang used when working their old wreck of a ship, carrying the packages of counterfeit notes out to distribute the same to different stations; and fetching back assorted supplies, including the best of grub. "the place was abandoned, and looked like an earthquake had struck that particular quarter--the mouth of the pass leading into the wonderful valley was filled thirty feet high with a mass of rocks, thrown down by the tremendous force of the bomb you exploded when we cleared out; and some of the cabins and huts had been knocked to flinders by the men in their rage at being kicked out of their hidden retreat. their old plane too, was scattered all around the field. "the government agents found the plates from which the spurious notes had been printed, and destroyed all but a portion, which they wished to forward to washington for inspection by the chief and his staff. then they amused themselves by climbing to a five hundred foot ceiling, and making a target of the hut where the work had been carried on. our friend in l.a. went on to assure me a clever hit by a bomb had scattered that squatty building we used to watch by the hour, to the four winds; and the printing press too was smashed to useless atoms by the force of the explosion." "bully! bully!" perk was saying, joyously, proudly, through the soap lather he had accumulated on his face; "then we sure did a natty piece o' work up there in that god-forsaken neck o' the woods. seems like life has got _some_ bright spots in the framework arter all, an' ain't jest a dinky fogbelt like i sometimes find myself b'lievin'." "it has its ups and downs we've got to remember, partner," advised sensible jack; "especially along the risky line of business we're engaged in. so we've got to take things as they come, wet weather mixed with sunny days, and just keep on doing our duty as we find it." "huh gue--reckon we gotter jest grin an' bear it," added perk, rubbing his face and neck with the course huck towel, as he loved to do on occasion. "but haow long do we stick here in atlanta tell me, boss?" "for one night only, if things work as i hope they will," said jack, promptly enough, showing that his plan of campaign was beginning to shape up. "mind if i step aout for a little while, partner; i done forgot to lay in some tooth-paste, an' i'm kinder used to havin' a tube o' the same along with me, yeou know, suh?" perk was the possessor of an unusually fine set of teeth, of which he was inordinately proud, as jack had occasion to know full well; so that this request on his part seemed perfectly natural. "certainly not, _wally_," jack told him, purposely emphasizing the name, as if to keep the other from forgetting how necessary it was to be forever on his guard, so as not to be caught napping. "like as not you'll find a drugstore handy to the hotel, and can get what you want easily enough. i'd rather you didn't go far away--a walk might seem like a fine thing; but when it's taken i want to be along, as two pair of eyes and ears might be better than one, to ward off danger." "that's okay, mister," came the cheery reply, as perk stepped over to pick up his hat; "an' it gives me a warm feelin' 'raound my heart to hear yeou say that same--i'm never so happy as when goin' into action, yeou know right well. when i was over in france, helpin' run that sausage balloon we used for observation purposes, it allers gimme a wonderful thrill jest to see six heinie ships takin' off, intendin' to ketch us guys 'fore we could drop to solid earth, an' knock the stuffin' aout o' us with some o' their consarned bombs, which they sure knowed haow to manufacture to beat the frenchies all holler. so-long ja--mr. warrington i'll be back agin in a jiffy." just the same it was fully fifteen minutes before perk again showed up; and jack found himself beginning to worry when the door opened, with perk's grinning face exposed. jack noticed that after the other entered the room his first act was to most carefully _lock the door_; and there was something significant about this action, so foreign to perk's usual carelessness, that the other was forced to believe something or other must have happened while he was out of the hotel, to render perk so solicitous. "got your tooth paste, did you, boy?" he asked. "easy enough," quoth perk, still with that quizzical expression on his sun-tanned, homely face. "found there was a drugstore right handy; an' seein' i was thirsty i jest stopped over to pick up a drink o' soda an' cream. that's where, things begins to happen, yeou see." "oh! they did," echoed jack, raising his eyebrows as he watched the face of the other, and noting how a grave look had succeeded the humorous one. "suppose you tell me what it was came along while you were enjoying your soda?" "well, yeou see, partner," commenced perk; "there happens to be a gink astandin' close by, which i aint paid any 'tention to, bein' wrapped up in my own affairs jest then. i'd raised the glass to take a fust sup when i done heard somebody say, right by my ear seemed like: 'goin' to stay with us in atlanta enny length o' time, mister corkendall, suh?'" perk evidently had a little streak of the dramatic in his composition, for he stopped just then, and eyed his companion eagerly, as if tickled to know his communication had given the usually cool jack a bit of a start. "oh! you don't say, brother?" the other was remarking; "then after all the party at the soda counter wasn't quite a stranger to you seeing he evidently had learned your name?" "darned if i kin make aout partner, haow he ever got wise to the fack, so's to call me mister corkendall." "go on, brother--what did you do then?" demanded jack. "huh! i was a bit flustered, yeou see," explained perk, "'cause i'd got a side squint at his mug; i reckoned i needed 'bout half a minute to git a grip on my senses; so i tilted up my glass, an' swallered a few times; and say it 'peared to me like a thousand things flashed through my poor ole brain like a stroke o' lightnin'." "did you answer him?" demanded jack, frowning. "i sure did," came unhesitating the reply; "'case i jest had to. yeou see, partner, he'd been astandin' thar right along, an' in course he done heard me order my drink; so if i tried to play that dumb trick, as haow yeou tole me, he'd aknown things must a been a bit mixed, an' the fat'd be in the fire. did i do the right thing boss, tell me?" jack smiled amiably again. "that was certainly one time your mother wit _didn't_ fail you, comrade," he told the other. "now, go ahead and let me know what followed; because i've already guessed the man at your elbow must have been that smart aleck newspaper reporter we last saw looking over our ship so suspiciously." ----- footnote : see "trackers of the fog pack." chapter iv perk has an adventure perk might have been observed swelling out his chest somewhat, as though this praise on the part of his ally went straight to his head like rich wine. "i done tole him it was all up to yeou, mister warrington--seein' as haow i was jest a humble air pilot aworkin' fur yeou---we might be in atlanta a hull week, mebbe so, fur all i knowed." "that was another clever thing for you to say, brother," jack assured him, only too ready to praise when praise was due; "it might serve to throw him off the scent; but no matter how long or how short our stay chances to be, i've a hunch we're bound to see more than we want of that nosey chap. like most of his breed he means to find out all he can, either to make a story that will give his readers a fine kick; or on the other hand, if he does happen to be one of that syndicate's paid spies, to learn who and what we really are, and why we're in atlanta, coming out of the west--for i reckon he saw our first approach this same day, and jotted that fact down in his mind." "he done tried hard to start me talkin' 'baout yeour business, so i jest had to tell him as haow yeow was on'y sportin' fo' sport, an' undecided whether to go on daown to hunt black bears in the canebrakes o' ole louisiana; or else strike aout fo' currituck sound on the coast, to git a whack at the wild geese an' swans as kin be shot on the club preserves." "you couldn't have done better any way you tried, brother," warmly commended jack, whacking the other on his back, and causing him to fairly glow with satisfaction. "only i hope he didn't catch on about that three distinct language business i was speaking about not so long ago." perk shook his head briskly in the negative. "i was mighty keerful not to say _too_ much, partner," he continued; "with him afirin' questions at me like the rat-tat-tat o' a machine-gun. so i pays fo' my soda, an' tells the youngster i gotter hurry back to where yeou was awaitin' fo' me to unpack the bags; an' with that i leaves him right whar he was standin', lookin' at me outen them sharp eyes o' hisn like he'd bore into me with a gimlet, so's to know ever'thing i had in my head. that sap is certain sure the mos' uncomfortable bird to run across when yeou got a secret up yeour sleeve, i ever did tackle." "i can well believe you, brother," observed the relieved jack. "chances are you've left him in something of an uncertain frame of mind; but as he's built on the pattern of a bloodhound, he isn't meaning to give up the scent as long as we're within his reach. that forces me to decide on skipping from atlanta as soon as possible, for he's marked 'dangerous--keep out.'" "what's next on the programme, mister?" asked perk, satisfied to have come out of his little adventure with credit, and nothing like reproof from the pal whose good opinion he coveted so much. "i must leave you here for an hour or so, and keep my appointment with mr. justice, although i hardly expect him to give me anything like the full details of the work ahead of us--that must wait until we get to charleston, when everything will be laid before us; together with coast charts issued by the government from surveys carried out by experienced geographers, and which we can rely upon to the fullest extent." "i done reckons then, partner, yeou got yeour plans fixed up in case he is alayin' fo' yeou somewhars, eh, what?" jack chuckled as if amused. "i understand how you're referring to our enterprising young scribe on one of atlanta's lively papers; and especially vigilant in connection with air travel matters at candler field--nothing would please me more than to take him on, and give him a whirl or so. i think i can play my part as a millionaire sportsman to the dot, and give him a mouthful that's apt to set him wondering more than ever. i might even invite him to dine with us, say tomorrow evening at the grady here, when he will be at liberty to ask all the questions he wants about my love for outdoor sports, and so on--that would be a good joke on the slick lad, since we'll be on our way east many hours before that time." "gosh all hemlock! but say, wouldn't that be rich, though; an' what wouldn't i give to be close by, an' hear haow yeou stuffed the duffer," perk went on to gush, surveying his companion with eyes that fairly glowed with sincere admiration. "lock the door, and under no consideration allow any one to enter while i'm away. just say you're tremendously engaged, and can't be disturbed, if that everlasting busybody shows up." "huh! jest trust me to lay the same aout if he gets too fresh," grunted perk with a menacing ring to his voice. "course i wouldn't knock him any what yeoud call physically, only shut him up, an' send him off to mind his own business." "when i come back we can have another little chin, for i promise to keep you fully posted from now on, concerning everything connected with the big game. after that we'll have a full dinner, and decide about pulling out of atlanta while the going is good." "tonight, does yeou mean, partner?" queried perk, craftily. "possibly, yes," came the ready reply. "we'll take a look over the afternoon _journal_, and see what sort of flying weather is offered for the next twelve hours; and if at all favorable we can make our plans accordingly, so as to jump off before midnight. candler field is kept fully lighted nights, with so many ships of all types coming and going, on schedule and otherwise, that there'll be no difficulty about that part of the deal." "huh! which makes me remember i done got a copy o' that same paper when i was in the drugstore," explained perk, pulling it out of his pocket as he spoke; "so i kin be amusin' myself while yeou're gone. i'll suck every bit o' weather information outen the paper, bet yeour boots, so's to be all primed when yeou come back; it'll be suppertime 'baout then, an' right naow i'm feelin' them grippin' pains daown below, sech as allers warns me the fires they need stokin', so's to keep the engine workin' full speed." this arrangement pleased jack perfectly; he realized how perk was apt to be more or less "fidgetty," and it was just as well he had something to read while standing guard over their luggage, so as to keep his mind from other subjects. jack waited outside for a brief space of time, and thus heard the key being duly turned in the lock, which relieved him of any further anxiety concerning the one left behind. perk, left to his own devices, settled down in an easy-chair to make himself comfortable. beginning with the first page he read everything that had any promise of interest, applying himself particularly to such items as covered aviation matters. as is the case in these enlightened days of intense activity in air circles, he came upon a number of brief articles along those lines, all of which he absorbed with deepest interest. then for five or ten minutes he allowed himself to sit there, his mind filled with the magnitude of aerial inventions that had been sprung on the market within the last ten years; and marveled at the vast gap separating the bustling present with those lean years when he was serving his country over in france, attached to the observation corps, with their clumsy sausage balloons that could be let soar at a limited height, and then drawn down by rope and windlass when some enemy threatened their safety. arousing himself presently perk next busied himself in searching the columns of his paper for the latest weather report, especially as concerned the promises for flying craft. eventually he found what he was after, and read the report most eagerly. to his delight it seemed to be favorable throughout the coming night, a fact of considerable importance to all air mail pilots, as well as others who were contemplating going aloft while the night lasted. people passed the door of the room from time to time; and twice perk had an idea some one was fumbling at the lock; but concluded it might have been some tenant of a neighboring room, either going out, or coming in, for at least nothing suspicious followed, and he breathed easy again. the hour had just about slipped by when he caught footsteps he knew right well; as he listened he heard them stop before the locked door; then came a light tap, and he caught jack's voice: "wally, it's me--warrington, you know!" "okay, suh!" sang out the one within, as he stepped over and turned the key. "how about it, partner--anything happened since i left?" jack asked softly, after he had again turned the key in the lock. "not any; suh--an' i ketched the weather report in the dinged paper, which gives us the pleasin' information as haow it's bound to be halfway decent this same night, with wind from the southwest up at three thousand feet ceilin', which makes things look kinder promisin', i'd say, suh." "that settles it then, buddy; we'll get a move on, and climb out before twelve. might as well strike charleston with as little delay as possible, for we'll possibly have to hang around that place some time, tuning up our new crate to know its possibilities. besides, i've a feeling this town wont be big enough to hold both us, and that cub of a reporter, and keep him from whiffing some of our secrets with that inquisitive nose of his." perk grinned. "strikes me, partner, yeou done run up against that nosey critter, same like i done, aint that a fack, suh?" jack drew a card out of his vest pocket and tossed it on the table near which the pair of them were just then seated. "that's the card he pressed into my hand, with the name of his sheet on the same. we've an appointment to dine with him here at the grady tomorrow night, when he will be at liberty to ask as many questions as he pleases, connected with a rich sportsman's love for the game fields." "hot-diggetty-dig!" spluttered perk, fairly aghast; but without waiting for him to say another word jack continued, with a chuckle: "always providing we are still in atlanta at that time. yes, i gave him a nice little run for his money--led him on interesting journeyings, and along pleasant ways. he fell for it all, as far as i could judge; and probably i managed to get the fish well hooked; but they're a slippery bunch, these newspaper chaps, and can give the best detective points, to beat him in the end in solving the great mystery. i'm leery of the whole tribe, partner--you never can tell whether you're stringing them, or they are playing you, giving you line so as to bring you up with a round turn eventually. we shake off atlanta's dust by midnight, brother--and that goes!" chapter v their running schedule "hot-diggetty-dig! what a big snap i shore missed by not bein' jest 'raound the corner, alistenin' while yeou was afeedin' that tall yarn to 'im, what's the name o' that trail hound what builds up thrillin' yarns fo' the readers o' his paper to swaller?" and after taking a look at the card still lying on the table perk continued: "'james douglas keating,' huh! well, jimmy, mebbe so yeou didn't run up 'gainst a buzz saw when yeou tackled aour--er, mr. rodman warrington." "wait and see," cautioned jack; "for all i can tell that lad may have been feeding me some slick medicine when he seemed to fall for my talk so readily. i'm not going to feel dead certain i scotched the busybody until we've left atlanta and candler field well in our wake, with nothing happening to prove a give-away." "yeou would, partner--it'd be jest like yeou to say 'mebbe' till things they got ab-so-lutely certain--never yet knew yeou to jump at conclusions, so i done reckon yeou was really born to be a scientist. when do we eat, i'd like to know; things are agettin' near the danger line with me, right naow, an' there's a 'cry from macedonia, come on an' dine.'" "let's go," jack told him, reaching out for his head covering; for they had both doffed their flying clothes before quitting the ship, and were in ordinary garments that would not cause comment or unusual notice on the streets of any city. over a very bountiful dinner they continued to "talk shop" in low tones. since their table was a bit removed from any other, thanks to jack tipping the head waiter bountifully, with the orchestra playing softly, it seemed almost an impossibility for any hostile ear to catch a single word they uttered. thus perk was put in possession of further valuable information with regard to the probable field of their forthcoming adventure, jack having managed in his customary clever fashion to get hold of reading matter covering the entire romantic coast country between norfolk and savannah. "it seems to be a wonderful section, just teeming with queer people and equally strange sights; and for one i'm a bit eager to look things over. just the same, buddy, neither of us must forget even a minute the main object that's calling us into the coast skyways. we've got a man's size job on our hands, and some mighty smart people, as well as devil-may-care ones, to pack up against, so that a slip is apt to set us back, and for all we know even cost us our lives. i'm saying that not to scare any one, but because i've posted myself on the game, and know to what vile ends some of these dicks would go if they thought men of our trade were holding them under surveillance." "well, so be it, partner doant forgit i've heard the whine o' lead pills close to my ears many a time, so it's an ole story with me!" "when we manage to get in touch with one or more of the swift coast guard patrol boats things will begin to look brighter---as though there might be something doing; but that wont come along for quite some time. we've got to get things down pat, know all about the regular routine movements of those swift airships, and then begin to cut into their number--first one must mysteriously disappear, and then a second, possibly even a third. by that time we'll have certainly thrown a pretty hefty scare into the bunch, and things are bound to slacken, more or less." "speed the day, sez i, partner caint come any too quick to suit me, an' that's no lie either," saying which valorous, fire-eating perk again attacked his supper; for by this time they had reached the dessert stage, and were discussing prime apple pie, with the richest of thick cream to top it off, always one of perk's favorites, when given his choice. it will be noticed that when off duty these minions of the secret service were apt to live like kings, and with reason; for often they had to put up with scanty rations, and poor at that, when far removed from restaurant fare, and forced to live off the country. "first a feast, and then a famine," perk was accustomed to saying when jack mildly reproached him for giving so much thought to what he usually designated as "the eats." perk would have liked very well to have spent an hour or so at some theatre or other, and had even given a few hints about a screen play at the paramount but met with no encouragement from his side partner. "best for us not to make any sort of an exhibit of ourselves while we're in close quarters with that write-up newspaper chap," he told perk, who, realizing that jack meant just what he said, allowed the subject to drop. "kinder gu--er-reckon as haow yeou're 'baout right there, ole hoss," he admitted, with a slight vein of regret in his voice; "course we kin see all the picters we want when we've struck the wind-up o' aour trail--that is, providin' we're still alive, an' kickin' as usual." "that lad has got me guessing, and no mistake," jack added; "in one way i admire such persistence, especially in one of his breed, where there's a big scramble for fresh news stories; but they can make it a whole lot disagreeable for other people in the bargain. makes me think of the leeches that used to pester us by hanging on in the old swimmin' hole of my boyhood days--you just couldn't shake the blood-thirsty varments off, try as you might, they were such stickers." finishing their supper they strolled forth in a leisurely fashion, as if, as perk himself observed in his quaint way: they had "the whole evening at their disposal, with nothing to do but kill time." picking up a late evening paper on the way to their room at the henry grady hotel they settled down to be as comfortable as possible, until the time arrived to make a start. "we'll get a taxi to take us out to candler field," quoth jack, always arranging his plans with meticulous certainty; "then change to our flying togs, and get going as quietly as possible. it's to be hoped that sticking plaster wont be nosing around out there, to see some mail ship start off, or come into the airport--you never can tell about such fly-by-nights, who bob up in the most unexpected places just when you don't want to see them." "huh! yeou said it, partner," perk added, whimsically; "jest like i used to see that queer jack-o'-lantern in the country graveyard foggy nights now here, an' agin over yonder, fur all the world like a ghost huntin' fur its 'ticular stone to climb under agin." jack, having made himself comfortable, commenced glancing over the paper he had picked up, briefly scanning each page as though skimming the news. "haow 'bout the weather reports, buddy?" asked perk, later on, suppressing a big yawn, as though time was hanging somewhat heavily on his hands, being, as he always proudly declared, "a man of action." "just about the same as a while ago--no change in the predictions having come about," he told the other. "like to be no storm agoin' to slap us in the teeth, then, eh, what?" "i don't see where it could come from, it being clear in almost every direction, saving possible rain in south florida; so don't let that bother you in the least, old scout." "an' fog--haow 'bout that same, suh? i opines as haow i sorter detest fog more'n anything i know--'cept mebbe stones in my cherry pie." "no record of any fog over the air-route east," jack informed him; "and you know we mean to follow the flash beacons all the way to greenville, south carolina, where they turn off in the direction of richmond, while we shift more to the southeast by south, and head for charleston. it looks as though we'd have a nice, even flight all the way, and land in our port early tomorrow morning--without trying to make any great speed in the bargain." time passed, and it drew near the hour they had selected for their leaving the hotel. perk was a bit eager to be going, and began to pack his bag as a gentle hint to his running mate. "finish mine while about it, partner," he was told by his comrade; "while i'm down below settling our joint account, and securing a taxi. i'll be back in a short while; and then for business." "yeah! that strikes me where i live, buddy. take yeour time, an' doant come back atellin' me that pesky jimmy's squatted in the hotel lobby, alookin' over everybody as goes aout, er comes in." jack was gone as much as ten minutes, and then opened the door quietly, to have the other snatch a quick inquiring look at his face and say: "ev'rything lovely, an' the goose flyin' high, ole hoss?" "we're going to kick off right away; and so far the coast seems clear." chapter vi by the skin of their teeth once settled down in the taxi perk felt much better. he had been casting suspicious glances this way and that, eying a number of parties, as though he more than half anticipated the slick newspaper man might be hanging around the grady in some clever disguise, bent on tracking them to the aviation field. "huh! kinder guess--ev'rything's okay with us naow--glad jack didn't hear me asayin' that forbidden word, er he'd be kickin' agin. tarnel shame haow a life-long habit do stick to a guy like glue--didn't realize haow things keep acomin' an' agoin' year after year, when yeou git 'customed to doin' the same." perk was muttering this to himself half under his breath as the taxi took off, and immediately headed almost straight toward the quarter where the fast growing candler field lay outside the thickly populated part of atlanta. he was just about to thrust his head out of the open upper part of the door on the left side when jack jerked him violently back. "hey! what in thunder--" "shut up! and lie back!" hissed the other, almost savagely. "gosh-a-mighty! was _he_ hangin' 'raound after all?" gasped the startled perk, who could think of but one reason for the other treating him so unceremoniously. jack had turned, and was trying to see through the dimmed glass--he even rubbed it hastily with his hand as if to better the chances of an observation; but as they whirled around a corner gave it up as next to useless. "it was _that boy_ all right, and making straight for the hotel in the bargain; which proves he'd located our layout okay," he explained to the excited perk. "doant tell me he done spotted us, partner?" "i don't just know," came back the answer, hesitatingly. "i thought i'd yanked you back before he looked our way; but as sure as anything he came to a full stop, and stared after our taxi. for all we know he may be jumping for some kind of conveyance to follow at our heels." "hot-diggetty-dig! but things shore _air_ gettin' some int'restin' like, i'd say, if yeou asked me, boy! an' even if he keeps on agoin' to the grady the night clerk'll tell him as haow we done kicked aout. kinder wish we was a zoomin' long on aour course, an' givin' jimmy the horse laugh. caint yeou git the shover to speed her along a little, ole hoss?" "we're already hitting up the pace as far as safety would advise," jack told him, as they both swayed over to one side, with another corner being taken on the jump. "it'd spill the beans if we had any sort of accident on the way to the ship; better let well enough alone, partner." "huh! the best speed a rackabones o' a taxi kin make seems like crawlin' to any airman used to a hundred miles an hour, an' heaps more'n that," grumbled the never satisfied perk; but just the same it might be noticed that jack did not attempt to urge the chauffeur to increase their speed at the risk of some disaster, such as skidding, when turning a sharp corner. on the way perk amused himself by taking various peeps from the rear, gluing his eye to the dingy glass. since he raised no alarm it might be taken for granted he had made no discovery worth mentioning; and in this manner they presently arrived at the flying field, which they found fully illuminated, as though some ship was about to land, or another take off. this suited them exactly, as it would be of considerable help in bringing about their own departure. jumping out jack paid the driver, and after picking up their bags they hastened in the direction of the hangar in which they had been assured their ship was to be placed. a new field service motor truck was moving past them, evidently bent on servicing some plane about to depart east, west, north or south; which perk eyed with admiration; for he knew what a comfort it was to have one of these up-to-date contraptions swing alongside, and carry out all the necessary operations of fitting a ship out, which in the old days had to be done by hand, with the assistance of field hostlers. "anyhaow, we doant need a single thing to set us on aour way, which is some comfort," he remarked to his mate as they arrived at their destination. while jack was making all arrangements for their big fokker to be taken out of the hangar, and brought in position for taking off, perk continued to look eagerly around him, as usual deeply interested in all that went on in connection with a popular and always growing airport, of which candler field was a shining example. "by gum! if there aint one o' them new-fangled air mail flags, painted on the fuselege o' that southern air fast express ship gettin' ready to pick off; an' say, aint she a beaut though--regulation wings in yellow, with the words 'u. s. air mail', an' the upper an' lower borders marked with red an' blue painted lines. gosh! i'd be some proud naow to be handlin' sech a nifty ship in the service i onct worked by; but no use kickin', what i'm adoin' these days is heaps more important fo' ole uncle sam than jest acarry'n' his letter sacks. an' mebbe that ship means to head back jest where we come from, los angeles, an' san diego, by way o' dallas, texas. haow they keep askippin' all araoun' this wide kentry, day an' night, like grasshoppers on a sunny perairie--the times o' magic have shore come to us folks in the year nineteen thirty-one." other sights greeted his roving eyes as he held himself impatiently in check waiting for jack to give him the word to start. both of them had hurriedly changed their clothes, and were now garbed in their customary working dungarees, stained with innumerable marks of hard service, yet indispensable to those who followed their calling. it certainly did not take long for their ship to be trundled out on to the level field, and brought into position for taking off. there was considerable of a gathering, considering that it was now so late in the night; and perk, giving a stab at the fact, came to the conclusion there was something out of the common being, as he termed it, "pulled off"--possibly the presence of that beautiful emblem of the air mail service on the fuselage of the western bound mail and express matter carrier had to do with the occasion--a sort of honorary christening, so to speak--he was content to let it go at that. jack was still talking with some one he seemed to know, some one who must surely be a fellow pilot, for he was dressed in regulation dingy overalls, and kept hovering near that fine multi-motored curtiss kingbird plane that he, perk, understood belonged to the new fleet of the line to be operated in a short time between atlanta and miami, florida, carrying passengers, the mail, and express between the two airports. thus far there had been no sign of the ubiquitous newspaper man, and perk continued to bolster up his hope this might continue to be the case to the very moment of their departure. it would be a bit exasperating should the fellow suddenly burst upon them, jumping out of a taxi, and tackling jack with a beastly shower of questions that were suited to the ends he had in view of building up a fanciful story that must tickle the palates of the numerous readers of his department on aviation in the paper he served. there, thank their lucky stars, was his companion giving the wished for call for him to stand by, as everything was fixed for immediate departure. in less than three minutes they would be taking the air, and leaving lighted candler field behind them--once that happy event had taken place and they could snap their fingers derisively at any attempt on the part of their determined annoyer to give them trouble. "huh! it's to be hoped the pesky guy doant take a notion to hire a ship, an' try to stick to aour tail, ashoutin' aout his crazy questions like he spected us to done hole up, an' hand him his story on a plate! kinder gu--reckon as haow there aint much danger 'long them lines--it'd be a whole lot too hard fur him to manage. okay, suh, right away!" as perk was supposed to be a pilot in the employ of mr. rodman warrington, of course it was only right for him to be at the throttle of the ship when they took off. accordingly he hastened to settle down in his seat where he could grip the controls, and manipulate things in the dash along the field that would wind up in a swing upwards toward the starry heavens. having given a last hasty inspection of his gadgets, and the numerous dials as arranged on the black dashboard before him, perk called out, the propeller started to roar and spin like lightning; and in that very last second of time, as the ship commenced to leap forward, perk caught a glimpse of the man whom they had believed left in the lurch--no other than jimmy himself! chapter vii on the air-line to charleston jimmy was leaping from a taxi that had come whirling almost up to the spot where their ship was in the act of taking off. perk in that hasty look--when truth to tell he had no business to be taking his eyes away from his course ahead, lest he make a slip that would upset all their calculations--had seen the printer's ink man heading in leaps toward their plane--yes, and sure enough he was holding a pad of paper in one hand, and doubtless a sharpened pencil in the other, a typical up-to-the-minute knight of the press bent on snatching up his facts on the run. then perk--still paying strict attention to his special task--gave a grunt of satisfaction, coupled with derision. to himself he must have been thinking, if not saying, "that's the time we jest made a slick get-away by the skin o' aour teeth--yeou're five seconds too late, jimmy, boy--try some o' yeour tricks on slower game, not we-uns. whoopla! here she goes!" as they were just then about to leave the ground and start their upward climb of course it was absolutely out of the question for the one holding the stick to twist his head around so as to see what their tormentor was doing; but then he felt certain jack must be taking in everything that occurred, and in good time he would be told of each little incident. perk had his instructions, and knew just what he was doing. accordingly, when the ship had reached a comfortable ceiling of say half a thousand feet, he banked, and swung around so as to head toward the southwest. "shore thing," perk was telling himself, in a spirit of pride and astuteness. "sense the gent's is aimin' to git a black bear in them canebrakes o' ole louisiana, we gotter be headin' thataways at the start. hoopla! aint it jest the limit, apullin' the wool over the eyes o' one o' the darnedest sharpest newspaper boys as ever was?" it had been arranged that they were to keep on that course for a brief time, and when sufficient distance had been covered--so that the hum of their exhaust could no longer be heard at candler field--they would change to another quarter, swing around the distant city, pick up the light at stone mountain, and from that point industriously follow the beacons that flashed every ten miles or so all the way to richmond, virginia. jack soon displaced his assistant pilot at the controls, and perk was able to take hold of other special duties, such as were usually left to his direction. one of the very first things he carried out was to attach the harness of the invaluable telephone, that, when connected with their ears allowed of such exchange of views as they saw fit to indulge in; and perk was burning up with eagerness to find out what jack must have seen after they made their start. the big ship was speeding at a merry clip, and before long stone mountain would be reached with the first beacon flashing its welcome light to beckon them on their well marked course. "was that _him_ as i guess--reckoned i done seed, jest as we started to move, hey, partner?" perk demanded; and as jack knew only too well he would have no peace until he handed over such information as he possessed, he lost no time in making answer. "no other, brother--he came in a taxi, and was in such a hurry it's plain to be seen he'd picked up a clew at the hotel that sent him whooping things up, and burning the minutes until he got there at candler field. unfortunately--for jimmy--he dallied a half minute too long, trying to get some lead from that night clerk, and so we slipped one off on him." "yeou doant reckon as haow he'd be so brash as to hire a ship, to try an' sit on aour tail, do yeou, ole hoss?" demanded perk, who had even looked back once or twice, as though such a possibility had begun to bother him. "not a chinaman's chance of such a happening, wally--we've got a clear field ahead of us, and i feel pretty certain that's the last we'll see of our friend jimmy. just the same, leave it to him to concoct a thrilling yarn to feed to his readers to-morrow morning--imagination will supply the missing facts; and i'd like to set eyes on what he hatches up." "me too, partner," echoed perk, greedily; "an' if it's possible while we hang aout araound charleston i'm meanin' to look up all the atlanta papers, and read all the air news they carry." "go to it, partner; but that must be stone mountain over there on our larboard quarter; look sharp, and you'll glimpse a flashing light, for we're about to pick up our first beacon." "bully for that, 'cause afterwards it'll be the softest sailin' ever, with aour course charted aout fur us most all the way." "i'm holding her down a bit," explained jack, "because we'd better stick to the beacons until dawn; after that we can depend on our compass and chart to carry us the rest of the way to charleston." "i get yeou, ole hoss, an' agree with yeou to a hair. no hurry whatever, yeou done tole me the chief sez in his cipher letter o' instructions--slow an' sure, that's agoin' to be aour motto this campaign," and jack must have chuckled to hear the impetuous perk say that, it was so foreign to his customary way of rushing things. the line of beacons was now picked up, and perk could see sometimes as many as three at the same time--the one they were passing over; that left behind shortly before; and still a third faint flash at some distance beyond. they had climbed to a ceiling of some two thousand feet, which might still be increased when passing over such outspurs of the allegheny or smoky range mountains as would be met on the regular air mail course to richmond. as the air seemed unusually free from any vestige of fog, being very clear, of course visibility was prime, which fact added to perk's happiness, he being unduly fond of such favorable weather conditions. such a voluble chap could not keep silent long, when it was so easy to chat with an accommodating companion; and hence presently perk found something else to mention to the working pilot. "i say, partner," he sang out, "tell me who yeour friend was, the pilot i seen yeou talkin' with, an' who sure seemed to be 'quainted with yeou." "knew you had that question up your sleeve, buddy," jack replied, always ready to satisfy any reasonable amount of curiosity on the part of his chum, "yes, he was an old friend of mine, and i expect you've heard me speak of him more than a few times--one of the most adept pilots connected with the curtiss people,--no other than doug davis, who back in twenty-nine won the country's speed race at cleveland, with a record of a hundred-and-ninety miles an hour." "gee whiz! haow i'd liked to amet up with him!" exclaimed perk, showing a trace of keen disappointment in his tone. "i'd have introduced you, partner, only the conditions wouldn't admit it." jack threw out as a bit of apology. "but, say--what if that speed hound, jimmy, happened to learn he was atalkin' with yeou, wouldn't your friend doug be apt to give us away, withaout knowin' the reasons why we wanted to keep shady right naow?" jack gave him the laugh. "not on your life, buddy," he announced, without hesitation; "i managed to let doug know what line i was in, and how just at present i'm a new york millionaire sportsman and aviator, rodman warrington by name, headed toward some shooting-grounds for a whack at big game. he's a lad you could never catch asleep at the switch; and make up your mind our secret's as safe with him as anything could be. jimmy'd have all his trouble for his pains, if he ever tried to pump doug davis, who's as keen as they make them in our line." "but, partner, didn't he introduce yeou to another pilot--i reckon i seen him adoin' that same, an' heow yeou shook hands with the other guy." "yes, but i'd already tipped doug off, and he strung his friend with the story we've hatched up about our meaning to try the shooting in those wonderful canebrakes in louisiana. and that's all he'll ever tell connected with my identity, till the cows come home, or water runs uphill." "an' who did the other chap happen to be, if it's a fair question, suh?" continued perk, who, once he started on an investigating tour, never would let go until he had extracted every particle of information available. "sorry that i didn't catch his name clearly; but doug told me he was connected with the u. s. air reserve corps operations functioning there at candler field," jack explained. he certainly stirred up something when he said that. "well, well, what dye know 'baout that naow," gushed perk, apparently thrilled more or less by what he had just heard. "i've been gettin' wind o' that ere movement, and meanin' to look it up whenever the chanct drifted along." "a most interesting subject, buddy, and one i'd think you'd want to look into, seeing you're a veteran of flying in the great war over in france, and could join without any trouble. from what doug told me, and what i've read concerning the game, the organization is growing stronger every day--made up of men especially fitted to step in and man fighting planes, should any occasion arise, such as another foreign war. right in the southeast district there are something over two-hundred-and-thirty pilot members, who could be mustered by uncle sam in an emergency, just twenty-two of whom belong in atlanta, doug told me." "wheel haow fine that'd be fo' a feller o' my makeup," perk chortled, in glee. "i done gue--reckons, suh, as haow they may have meetin's, an' all that sorter thing--how 'baout it, partner?" "that's one of the necessary things about the air reserve officers corps," continued jack who evidently considered the organization an especially fine thing for the airminded public to support. "all through the winter they meet twice a week in classes, to keep up with modern military and aviation activities; and they get their new up-to-date flying experience by taking off in one of five army training ships kept ready in the new reserve hangar at candler field--these are an oil curtiss falcon regular attack plane; a -b douglass dual control basic training ship, with horsepower engines; and three other primary training ships. all the equipment connected with the fourth corps hangar is at atlanta headquarters,--so doug told me, and he ought to know if any one does." "gee whiz! an' to think o' what i been missin' all this time," moaned poor perk, disconsolately. "mebbe though it wouldn't ever do to apply fo' admission to such a organization, 'jest 'cause we-uns gotter to hid aour light under a bushel, while serving aour uncle sam in his ole secret service. dye know i got half a mind to throw it all up, an' go back to carryin' the air mail, when a guy could show his own face, an' not live under a dark cloud;--but not so long as _yeou_ sticks on the job, partner, i doant break away ever." chapter viii ships passing in the night they were by this time fully embarked on their night flight, perk continued to watch the flash beacons as though they fascinated him, more or less. "what i'd call a big snap, if anybody asked me," he kept telling himself from time to time. "huh! when i was an air-mail pilot fur a short time, things wasn't so dead easy--not a blamed light on earth or in the sky, nawthin' but black stuff every-which-way yeou looked. naow the guy at the stick jest keeps afollerin' a string o' blinkin' 'lectric lights that point aout his course fur him. purty soft, i'd call it, an' no mistake either." when they were passing directly over one beacon that kept blinking at them apparently, with about ten seconds between each flash, he could by turning his head, see a far-away swirling gleam marking the light in their rear; while dead ahead another, equally distant, kept up an enticing flash as though bent on assuring them everything was "all right." "jest one thing still wantin' to make these here air-mail boys right happy," he told himself; "which is a ray to beat the danged fog that mixes things up like fun. when some wise guy finds a way to send a ray o' light through the dirty stuff, so's yeou kin see a mile away as if the air was clear as a bell, then flyin' blind is agoin' to lose all its terrors to the poor pilot. i shorely hopes to see the day that's done." later on perk suddenly made a discovery that gave him a little fresh thrill--there was some sort of queer light almost dead ahead, that he fancied moved more or less; at any rate it was steadily growing brighter, beyond any question. "hot-diggetty-dig!" he muttered, still watching critically, as if hardly able to make up his mind concerning its meaning. "looks mighty like a shootin' star; but then i never did see one that didn't dart daown, like it meant to bury itself in the earth. must be a ship aheadin' this way--mebbe a mail carrier goin' to atlanta to land on the same candler field we jest quitted--yep, that's what it is, with a light in the cabin to keep the passengers from worryin'--sandbags ain't any too joyful when they got to sit in the dark, with the ship hittin' up eighty miles an hour." having thus settled the identity of the strange moving light, perk hastened to inform his mate of the discovery he had made. "ship's agoin' to pass us in the night, buddy," he called through the aid of the indispensable earphones. "yeou kin lamp the light straight ahead naow." "yes, i'd already noticed the same, partner," came steady jack's answer, as if he were not in the least disturbed, or excited by the occurrence. "gee whiz! but i shore hopes we doant meet head on, an' crash," ventured perk, really to coax his chum to express an opinion, and thus reassure him. "no danger of that happening, old scout!" snapped jack; "but i'll veer off to starboard a bit, to make doubly sure against a possible collision. strike up our cabin light, boy, so's to put them on their guard." of course they could not catch the slightest sound to corroborate their opinion, since their own ship was making so much racket. the light came closer and closer; at the same time jack felt positive the other aerial craft must be following his own tactics looking to safety, and steering somewhat to the right, as discretion demanded. perk had snatched up a kerosene lantern and hastily lighted the wick. this he now moved up and down; then swung the same completely around his head, as though he thus meant to give the other pilot a signal in the line of fellowship and aerial courtesy. thus the two ships passed not three hundred feet apart, yet only vaguely seen by watchful eyes. then they were swallowed up in the gloom of the night, the moon being under a passing cloud at the time. "fancy aour meetin' in space," perk was saying, as though rather awed by such a circumstance; "it couldn't happen again in a month o' blue moons, aour comin' to grips thisaway, with millions o' miles all 'raound us, an' nawthin' but chance to guide both pilots." "you're on the wrong track again, partner," jack hastened to tell him. "chance had little to do with this meeting; but that chain of brilliant flash beacons was wholly responsible. just like two trains passing on a double-track railroad line--both airships were following the same marked course, and couldn't hardly miss meeting each other. in these latter days flying has become so systematized that the element of chance has been almost wholly eliminated from the game." that remark kept perk silent for some little time, the subject thus brought up was so vast, so filled with tremendous possibilities, he found himself wrestling with it as the minutes crept on. so, too the night was passing by degrees, with their reliable fokker keeping steadily on its way, putting miles after miles in their wake. perk found himself growing more and more anxious for the first streak of coming dawn to show itself far off in the east, where the sun must be climbing toward the unseen horizon, and daylight making ready to disperse the cohorts of night. still it was always possible for him to make out the next beacon, with the aid of his binoculars, if he happened to be using them, as was often the case. an hour and more after their "rubbing elbows" (as perk termed it,) with the south-bound air-mail plane, once more perk caught a suggestive beam of light ahead that told of yet another aircraft afloat, and advancing swiftly toward them, only at a much lower altitude. "naow i wonder who _that_ guy kin be," he mused, while watching the light grow steadily larger. "some kinder big ship in the bargain; but hardly one o' the mail line, 'cause they doant run 'em in doubles the same way. hi! there, partner, we got a second neighbor, agoin' to pass under us in a minit er so. jest a bit to the left--no danger o' bangin' noses this time, seems like. gettin' to be thickly populated, as the ole pioneer settler said when a new fambly moved in 'baout ten mile off. mebbe we'll live to see the day when the air o' night'll be studded with movin' lights thick as the stars be--looks thataways to me, anyhaow." again he signaled his good wishes with his lantern, showing as much glee as a schoolboy whirling around his first fire spitting roman candle, on the night of the glorious fourth. "gee whiz! looky, partner--they're answerin' me, as shore's yeou're born! this is gettin' somewhere, i'd say; an' i'd give thirty cents to know who that guy might be." "just as well there's no way to exchange cards," sensible jack told the excited one. "never forget for a minute, partner, who and what we are; and how it's a prime part of this business to keep our light hidden under a bushel right along. others flying for sport, or carrying on in commerce, may get a thrill from exchanging names, and hobnobbing with each other; but all that stuff is strictly taboo with men of the secret service." "squelched again!" perk told himself, with one of his chuckles; "an' jest as always happens, jack, he's in the right--i'm forgettin' most too often what goes to make up a successful officer of the government, 'specially in aour line o' trade. guess--i mean i reckons as haow i'll have to subside, and take it aout in thinkin'." perk was certain they must have long since passed over the eastern extremity of georgia, and were even then swinging along with south carolina soil beneath them. yes, and he began to figure that he could detect the faintest possible rim of light commencing to show up far off to the east, as though dawn could not be far away. "huh! aint agoin' to be many more o' them bully flash beacons lightin' us on aour course," he was telling himself. "chances air we'll be bustlin' over aour objective right soon; when it's goodbye to the air-mail route, an' us a turnin' aour noses near due south, headin' fo' charleston on the seaboard, when the real fun is slated to begin. caint come any too quick fo' a boob that answers to the name o' gabe perkiser. yeah! that line is gettin' some broader, right along, which tells the story as plain as print." shortly afterwards he picked up a myriad of gleaming lights, that proclaimed the presence of a city of some magnitude; evidently the first sector of their flight had been reached, with a change in their course indicated. chapter ix when the dawn came "kinder looks like we'd hit civilization again, eh, ole hoss?" with the dawn coming along thus high up above the surface of the earth, it was still night down below, save where numerous electric lights, on the streets, and along the railroad lines, especially within the limits of the yards, dispelled the shadows. some of these were continually shifting; and since jack had dropped down latterly until they were not more than five hundred feet above the level ground, only for their hearing being overwhelmed by the noise of their own speeding ship, they might have easily heard the puffing of switching engines, together with the rumble of many freight cars, possibly the loud whistles of some factory warning its employees it was time for them to be thinking of getting their breakfast, preparatory to another long spell in the cotton mills, or other places of labor. "here's greenville, where we strike off on our own," jack announced, as he made a right turn, and depending entirely upon the needle of the compass, took up a new line of flight--no signalling for switches, puffing of a steam engine for a start, nothing save a turn of the wrist; and without the least friction the airship was heading in the direction of charleston, still far distant as the crow flies. the lights began to grow dim in their rear, and before long the last vestige of the bustling south carolina city faded out of sight. but undoubtedly the dawn was steadily advancing, so that already perk had been able to get fugitive glimpses of the ground they were so steadily passing over. he knew he would be feeling better when able to watch the panorama spread out like a vast chart under the swiftly speeding air craft, with towns, villages, and hamlets following in each other's train; the country itself dotted with innumerable cabins occupied by negro workers of the wide stretching plantations, where cotton, corn, and perhaps tobacco, would appear to be the staple crops harvested. it was indeed worth while watching when daylight came upon the surface of the earth, and the sun could be seen in all his glory by those who had the privilege of an elevated observatory. perk settled himself down for a period of "loafing," having no particular duties needing attention. his main thought was concerned with the fact that they were swiftly passing over south carolina, and getting closer to their main objective, where the remainder of their orders would be handed over to them as per prearranged agreement. he indulged in numerous speculations as to just when and how jack would make his attack upon the entrenched forces of the defiant clique, latterly giving uncle sam so much bother; and persisting in their thus far successful smashing of the patrol boat blockade along the coast, through the agency of numerous swift air smuggling craft--how many there might be perk had no knowledge. well, just wait until he and his best pal got fairly started in the good work, and possibly some of those defiant pilots would be numbered among the "has beens," having mysteriously vanished from the ken of their fellow law-breakers. "i shore doant want to brag," perk told himself, as modestly as he could find the heart to be; "but jest the same i been along with jack more'n a few times, when we run up agin sech gay birds; an' it was allers the same ole story over an' over agin. right naow a good many cells in atlanta, leavenworth, an' a few more penitentiaries air filled by lads what reckoned nawthin' could beat 'em at their pet game; yet there they be, behind stone walls, an' nary one chanct in a thousand to break away. huh! hope hist'ry repeats in this new adventure we're right naow embarkin' on, that's all." such confidence in a comrade bordered on the sublime, yet according to his light perk felt he was justified in believing jack to be at the head of his class--without a peer, yet modest withal, shrinking from praise, and content to let the heroes of unsurpassed air flights, as well as all manner of broken records for speed, endurance, and like exploits, bask in the spotlight, while he was satisfied to do his full duty, and afterwards remain unknown to fame. jack apparently still had a little fear lest something his best pal managed to do, when off his guard, might throw all their labors into the discard. on this account, and because they were now bearing down close to an important point in their schedule, he took occasion to once more delicately hint along such lines. "for perhaps the last time, partner," he went on to say, soberly; "we've both got to get a firm grip on ourselves, and try to actually _live_ the parts we're about to play. let's consider we're actors, with a critical audience in front, watching closely to see if we leave any break back of which our real character may be seen." "huh! i like thataway o' puttin' it, big boss," snorted perk, without the slightest hesitation; although he must have suspected that jack was trying to impress this point particularly on his, perk's mind--"i'll try my darnedest to keep athinkin' a thousand eyes and ears they be on to me, searchin' fo' some knothole in the fence to peep through, an' gimme the laugh straight. go on an' say some more 'long them lines, buddy--i kin stand it okay." "an actor to be a success must have the power, the ability to throw off his own ways and character, to assume whatever queer quirks marking the role of the person he is pretending to be. try and forget you were yankee born, and swap places with a son of dixie, filled with veneration for those heroes in gray, soldiers of lee, jackson, forrest, and all the other leaders of the sacred lost cause. you can do it, i'm dead certain, if you keep your mind steadfastly on that business alone, and forget a lot of other less essential matters." "shore i kin, an' i mean to, partner--yeou wait up an' see haow i'll pull the wool over their eyes--i'm wally corkendall, an' i was borned an' brought up in birmin'ham, where them bully stories o' the colored folks that make yeou laugh like fun keep acomin' from right along. yessuh! i done tole yeou i may be a man o' the world; but dixie is my dwellin'-place, birmin'ham my ole hometown." so jack let it go at that, and indulged in the hope his pal would not fall down in a pinch--it meant a matter of life and death with them, in view of the desperate type of men with whom they would soon be at close grips. chapter x ready to strike up to then everything had been comparatively simple; but the worst was yet to come. they could not do more than guess as to the nature of the dangers and difficulties lying in ambush to trip them up. for aught they knew long weeks, crowded with perils and narrow escapes, would be their portion; with the crowning possibility of final disaster hanging over their heads day and night. it was this uncertainty that made their job all the more attractive and thrilling to the comrades--in particular to perk, whose restless soul seemed never to be content to loll in idleness and safety; but yearned to meet up with all manner of weird scrapes, that for the time being satisfied the burning desire of his feverish blood. perhaps that was his heritage, coming down from those ancestors who settled in new england, at the time america was a british colony; and when dread of indian massacres kept every one's blood keyed up to the extreme; then again it might be perk got it from his contact with the front line trenches in the great war, where he may have been gassed, wounded, and lived the horrible existence that so many of our gallant boys did in the fierce battles of the argonne--himself, he never bothered his head to figure out whence the feeling came--he only knew he had it, and fairly reveled in what he was pleased to term _action_; but which really stood for deadly peril. it can thus be seen how perk was making his life work along the right line for one of his disposition; since it would be difficult indeed to mention any other vocation where a man would do his daily stunt face to face with some calamity. he continued to look down at the checkerboard below, admiring this, grunting his disgust at another spectacle, and many times glancing impatiently at his wrist-watch, as though he could thus hasten the hour and minute when they would be landing at their present destination. jack, on his part, while carrying out his ordinary duties as pilot, was running over in his active mind the various duties that must await their reaching the landing field in charleston. first, after seeing their ship safely stowed away in a convenient hangar--where it would stay until needed again, if ever--he must call at the post office for any letters that might have been sent on--under his assumed name, of course; after which it would be his business to drop in upon the government agent, from whom he would receive further secret instructions, as well as every scrap of information possible, such as would be of assistance in laying out and following up their plan of action. it pleased jack to know how every detail was being carried out with the prime motive of abject secrecy--for instance, he had been instructed _never_ to call at the office of the revenue official, since spies might have it under surveillance, and hold such a swell caller under suspicion--on the contrary the gentleman's private residence had been mentioned as the place of meeting; and the secret cipher of the department must be invariably used should an exchange of letters become necessary. he was to call at the house in the capacity of a distant relative of mr. casper herriott in the city while _en route_ to other places along the atlantic seaboard, especially in the way of shooting grounds; he being a famous sportsman--perk was not only his dependable pilot, but a skillful guide as well, fully acquainted with most of the sporting grounds of the great sounds and bays along north and south carolina shores. jack found himself smiling to remember how his companion had at one time delicately hinted that since the government had been so kind as to supply them with all manner of lovely guns, ammunition, and even shooting clothes and tempting high leather boots, all costing rafts of money, it might be possible for them to better carry out their assumed characters by indulging in a little foray among the canvasback ducks, mallards, and even wild geese--also remarking how it would be much too bad if, having been given the name, they might not also grab a handful of the game! already had jack commenced to take copious notes, mental, as well as written down in his new notebook--in the secret code of course--and he expected to add copiously to this record after he had interviewed mr. herriott, and drank in all that gentleman would have to tell him. besides that he would try to paint a complete chart on his mind, covering the lay of the land along the coast, its innumerable indentations covering the shores of the great sounds, albemarle, pamlico and others--also that section of swamps and morasses lying further south, where he already strongly suspected the main part of their work awaited them. already he had pored for hours over the government geographical coast survey charts, which, with others were contained in the waterproof case aboard the ship, and had proven their worth on a number of previous occasions; but as he could not hope to always have these at hand for reference, jack meant to carry along a mental picture of the entire region, a feat impossible, save to him whom the gods had favored with a wonderfully retentive memory, made next to perfect from long practice. up to then the most that jack knew in connection with his work was that it must mean the shattering of a gigantic conspiracy, backed by a number of wealthy but unscrupulous citizens; who probably depended upon some real or fancied "pull" to get them through in safety if they were ever indicted, which they had every reason was next to impossible. the scope of this league, jack also understood, was almost boundless--all manner of efforts were being put into practice daily, in order to cheat uncle sam out of his "rake-off" upon various dutiable foreign goods--diamonds, other precious stones on which the treasury department levied high sums when imported openly; rich laces; high priced cuban cigars, and a multitude of similar goods mostly small in bulk, that could be easily transported undetected aboard swift airplanes, making secret landings amidst the almost untrodden wilds of that eastern shore! then there must be a continuation of the old smuggling game--that of fetching cargoes of the finest wet goods obtainable at some station of the west indies; only the landing places had been transferred from the vicinity of tampa and miami, when those ports were too heavily policed to admit of taking the desperate chances involved; and were now transplanted to south carolina territory, where they seemed to be working without the slightest molestation, with a daily flood of stuff being safely landed. it was hinted that this powerful rival of the government was going even a step farther--carrying undesirable aliens from cuba across to the land they were so eager to reach, that they paid enormous sums for the privilege of being flown across the stretch of salt water--these were not only chinamen, but italians as well, criminals who had been chased from their own country by the alert fascist authorities as enemies of the realm, and saw in rich america the mecca where they could soon acquire great wealth at easy pickings by eventually becoming beer barons, racketeers, and the like; after passing through a brief school course as ordinary bootleggers, and hi-jackers. "some job, believe me!" jack summed up his reflections by saying, drawing in a long breath at the same time; and then following it all up with a laugh, as though even such a monumental task failed to dismay him. "cap, i kinder reckon we're right smart near charleston, to jedge from thet bank o' smoke lying on ahead. i been keepin' tabs o' the miles we left behind us, an' it shore do tally with the distance marked on yeour map." "i feel certain you're okay when you mention that same, matey," jack assured the other; which commendatory remark caused perk to look as pleased as a child when handed an all-day lollypop to suck on. "hot-diggetty-dig! it makes me happy to know as haow the waitin' game's 'baout all in naow, an' we're agwine--haow's that, buddy--to jump into action, and then more action. me, i'm some hungry, partner; but mebbe it aint wise to take a snack when we're so clost to aour airport, with a landin' comin' along soon, an' real restaurant eats aloomin' up in the bargain." "try to hold your horses for half an hour or more, and i promise that you'll be filled up to the limit, regardless of expense. and now begin to live, breathe, and act as a dixie bred man would do, ready to knock anybody flat who'd be so brash as to say one insulting word about your native southland." "the finest country god ever did make, barrin' none, suh; and don't yeou forgit it; but i kin see the airport a'ready, partner, off to the left a bit." chapter xi where war once broke out shortly afterwards the two adventurers found themselves looking down at as entrancing an air picture as it would be possible to conceive; with charleston harbor stretching out to its furtherest extent before them. "see that island over yonder, partner," said the admiring perk, pointing as he spoke; "i kinder--reckons naow as haow that might be where ole fort sumter stood, durin' the war 'tween the states--yeou knows weuns daown hyah allers speaks o' that little flareup that way, 'stead o' callin' it the civil war." "so i understood, wally, and i'm glad to find out you're so well posted on such facts, as it strengthens your position considerably. when you're in dixie it's just as well to follow the crowd, and do as all true southerners do." it was a charming morning, the air "salubrious," as perk said more than once, and everything seemed favorable to the success of their great undertaking--as far as they had gone, which was not anything to boast of. perk had already pointed out the landing field they were aiming to patronize, and of course the pilot circled the stretch several times, as he began to lose his altitude. there was but little wind, and that favorable for making a successful landing. then, too, a number of men had started to run toward the spot where indications pointed to their touching the ground, so they would not lack for any assistance required. but jack swung a trifle, and made contact shortly ahead of the foremost runner; the gliding, bumping ship gradually came to a complete stop, and both of them had hopped out of their cabin by the time several runners, breathing heavily from their exertions, reached the spot. jack was as suave and smiling as ever, a faculty that always made him "hail fellow well met" with most people. he picked out a party bearing the appearance of one in authority, and who, seeing his friendly nod, hastened up, holding out his hand with real southern warmth. "welcome to charleston, suh," he observed as they clasped hands, evidently understanding that the new arrival was not familiar with the ground, being apparently a stranger to the airport; which in itself was nothing remarkable in these days of fast increasing aviation strides, with new people coming and going on the up-to-date airways almost every day. "my name is warrington, and i am from new york city, down here for the shore shooting. this is my pilot and guide, wally corkendall, from birmingham, alabama. i wish to set my fokker in a safe hangar for an indefinite space of time, for we shall have to make use of an amphibian during our month of sport, as it will be necessary to make many a night's camp on the waters of your wonderful bays and rivers. would you kindly put me in touch with the party who has charge of such arrangements; i should expect to pay a week in advance and continue the same during the time of my stay." that could be easily arranged, since it happened he himself was in charge of all such matters, the gentleman courteously informed his new guest; apparently sizing jack up as a young man of wealth, willing to pay the price, no matter how much it cost, in order to enjoy himself to the utmost. so the ship was properly housed, and jack took pains to observe a lock on the doors, for which one of two keys was handed to him later on, after he had stepped over to the office, and finished arrangements by paying the sum agreed upon. "anything we can do to help make your stay in our city pleasant, suh, you can depend on it we shall be only too delighted to do," said the gentleman, as the taxi which he had ordered came along, to take them to the hotel he had recommended as a quiet restful place, with a genuine old-fashioned southern table known far and wide by travelers, and now being patronized by many air-minded tourists. perk had carried himself most commendably; this was easily done since he never once opened his mouth to say a single word, only grinned amiably whenever the courteous master of ceremonies said anything complimentary. they were speedily booming along toward the adjacent city, with curious perk bobbing his head this way and that, eager to see anything and everything that came in sight. "say, haow fine it seems to know yeou're onct again back in yeour native clime," perk observed, talking rather loud, possibly for the chauffeur to catch, and then again because he was still a bit deaf, after so many hours with the clamor of a running airship ding-donging in his ears much of the time. "talk 'bout yeour beautiful north, in my 'pinion it doant hold a candle to aour sunny south, with its balmy air, the songs o' the mockin'-birds, the merry laughter o' the niggers, an' a thousand other things yeou never do forgit." "oh! you dixie boys are all alike--nothing can ever wean you from your love for cotton fields, tobacco plantations, sugarcane brakes, and all such typical things of the south; but i like to hear you talk that way, wally; it's in the blood, and can't be eradicated." "yes suh, that's what i reckon it shore is," and perk relapsed into silence, possibly to ponder over that last word of jack's, and try to get its true meaning. he was soon deeply interested in what he saw, for charleston is full of wonderful sights, to northern eyes at least--fully on a par with quaint new orleans, and mobile--the iron lattices fronting many old-fashioned houses with double galleries--the churches that date back two hundred years at least, with their burial grounds filled with dingy looking stones and monuments, on which could be found chiseled numerous famous names of families connected with the history of this typical sub-tropical city--and occasional glimpses could be caught of that wonderful bay which is charleston's pride and boast. at the hotel they were speedily ensconced in a double room that boasted two beds--jack usually looked to having things arranged that way when feasible, as perk was a nervous sleeper, and apt to fling his arm across the face of any one alongside. it also afforded them a splendid view from the windows. "i shore do hope, partner, you're reckonin' on aour havin' some fodder 'fore we tackle any business; 'case my tummy it's agrowlin' somethin' fierce; so i jest caint hold aout much longer an' feel peaceable--have a heart, buddy, fo' a guy what was born hungry, and gets thataway five times every day." "that's all right, perk," he was told, with a smile; "here are our bags, and we can fix up a bit, for i feel that a bath would do me a heap of good. suppose we get busy, and by the time we look civilized again it will be twelve, which you remember the clerk told us was when the doors of the diningroom were thrown open." "gee! i only hope i kin hold aout till then," lamented poor perk; "when i lamped the window display o' a boss restaurant while we come along i had a yen to jump aout, an' duck into the same, things looked so tantalizin' like." "i can understand that yearning of yours, brother; but the sooner we get busy the quicker we'll be sitting down with our knees under a table, and ordering a full dinner for two. go to it then, while i take a warm dip." the agony ended eventually, and as it was then a quarter after twelve they decided to go down to the lobby, and partake of the fare which had been cracked up to them as especially fine, as well as indicative of typical southern cooking--perk kept harping on that same string until jack whispered to him he must not overdo the matter. apparently they found everything to their liking, for they remained in the diningroom almost a full hour; and when they came out perk was breathing unusually hard, like a person who has done heroic duty in an effort to show the hotel _chef_ he appreciated his culinary arts. "we'll take things easy in our room for a short while," jack informed his chum, as they ascended by means of the "lift" or elevator. "along about halfpast two i'll call up my friend, and distant relative, mr.--er, oh! yes, mr. casper herriott, and make some arrangement for joining him tonight at his home--i've always been a bit eager to see. just what sort of family my--er second cousin casper might have, and this will be an excellent opportunity to satisfy that--er _yen_, as you would say." "huh! jest so, suh, an' it shore pleases me to see how loyal yeou are to yeour illustrious fambly tree--second cousin is real good, i'd say, suh, mighty good connection." "take it all seriously, partner, even when we're snug in our own room--such things need constant _practice_, and shouldn't be thrown off and on just as the occasion arises; such a habit breeds carelessness, you must know." "jest so, suh, jest so; i takes the hint, okay," gurgled perk. chapter xii when cousins get in touch jack was as good as his word. at exactly half after two he was in touch with the office where the government at washington was ably represented by the gentleman he had been instructed to get in close intercourse with, unbeknown to outsiders. "is this mr. herriott--mr. casper herriott?" he asked, when he heard some one handling the receiver after the house operator had heard his polite request. "it is," came back in firm tones. "_cousin_ casper herriott?" continued jack, a bit mischievously. there came a slight exclamation, then-- "who is it speaking, please?" "rodman warrington, of new york, sir." "ah! just so, mr. warrington; i've been rather expecting to hear from you at any time. glad you arrived safely; was that your ship i chanced to notice hovering over the airport about eleven?" "that was the time we arrived, sir; to meet a warm welcome from your gentlemanly superintendent of the port. he saw to it that our craft was speedily placed in a hangar, where it can remain as long as we happen to be hunting along the coast. i presume, sir, the new amphibian is here, and waiting for me?" "i'm delighted to assure you on that matter--it was brought here six days ago, and you will find it all safe and sound at the same airport where you landed." "what arrangements have you made for my meeting you, er--cousin casper?" continued jack. again he heard what he took to be a chuckle come over the wire, which assured him this mr. herriott at least was a man who appreciated humor, and seemed to be getting considerable enjoyment out of the happening, even though it was meant to all be along the line of strict business. "you have my house address, i presume, cousin?" he thereupon asked. "certainly i have; it was you yourself sent it to me, sir, you remember." jack went on to say. "to be sure--that had quite escaped my memory, owing to a press of business for the department. suppose you come around, say at eight this evening, when i shall be delighted to see you." "you can depend on me to be there; i have often wished i could drop in on you informally, and renew our old ties of friendship." "just so, and on my part i shall be most charmed to have you meet my good wife, and the children also, who have heard me speak of you more than a few times." both of them seemed to be enjoying this little chatter, meant to deceive any possible spy who might be looking for someone to make a business call upon the government agent,--perhaps there might even be such a snake in his office force, some one who had been bought body and soul by the syndicate, which would account for a leakage more than once in the past, calculated to upset certain deeply laid schemes for breaking up the wide-flung conspiracy against uncle sam. "i shall be particularly pleased to meet them, i assure you, cousin," continued jack. "at eight you said, sir?" "yes, and while you are in the city, later on possibly, i'd like you to fetch around that splendid pilot chap you mentioned, i believe, in one of your letters,--let me see, i think you wrote he was a native of birmingham, down in our own alabama close by, a sort of an odd genius, in the bargain, to whom you had become greatly attached." "i see you have been well posted, cousin casper," jack told him, understanding of course how the gentleman must have had a duplicate of the code letter sent on to him, jack; since they were to work in collusion as a team. "yes, i shall try to coax him to come with me later on--you know he's not at all gunshy when in the field, or at the traps, a most excellent shot, and guide; but he doesn't take much stock in society functions, in which he differs somewhat from myself. i'll see you then tonight, cousin." "we'll consider that settled; goodbye, cousin rodman until eight." jack was laughing as he switched off, as though this part of his mission might be looked upon in the light of a good joke rather than anything really serious. but no one knew better than jack what lay behind this pretense--how it was to be taken as only a bluff in order to deceive any argus eyes, or hostile listening ears, that might be employed by the powerful syndicate to further the ends of the smugglers of the carolina coastways. when perk heard what had passed he, too, had his little fit of merriment; but looked serious when jack told him of the warm invitation received concerning his being brought to the home of mr. herriott some time later on. "shore, i'll be glad to go with yeou, partner," he affirmed, taking a big breath at the same time, as though he had succeeded in conquering his prejudice; "'cause i wanter to meet up with this gent, an' hear what he's got to say. his lady, i done reckons, aint agoin'--agwyin' i means--to think much o' a ignorant guy like me; but if he's got _kids_ why i'm allers at home 'long with them. now tell me some more yeou two done talked 'bout." "the real talking will come off tonight when we get in touch, wally; all we did was to make arrangements; and whoever conceived this idea about our pretending to be distant cousins hit on a clever idea, and one that ought to throw any prowling spy off the track--whether in his office force, if they were listening to our little friendly chat, or even among the servants in his home." perk wanted to start out and see something of the city; and while jack on his part would have preferred staying there, and going over his schedule of arrangements once more, he concluded it might be wiser for him to give in and accompany the other on his roving about the city; for truth to tell he still felt a little dubious about perk's ability to play his part naturally at any and all times. accordingly they sallied forth, and securing a taxi had the driver take them to such points of interest as were within his ken. perk was eager to see the noted navy yard, at some distance north of the city, but jack convinced him that could very well keep for another time. "at any rate, brother," he concluded, by stating, "you're going to look down on that same navy yard every time we take off on a flight of exploration, to learn whether the ducks are down from the far north in sufficient numbers to tempt us sportsmen to locate, and build a duck blind." "gee! i kin see where i'm agoin' to enjoy a little shootin' fo' a change, suh," perk went on to say, accompanying his words with one of his wide grins. "aint done much practicin' on wild fowl fo' a heap o' moons, so i done reckon i'll show up kinder poor at fust; but it'll all come back soon's i gits my hand adoin' its cunnin', an' my eye on the job." they were back in the hotel by sundown, with perk trying to guess what he'd like best for his dinner. "wonder if so be they got any sorter dish i used to be fondest of when i was atrapsin' raoun' ole birmin'ham as a gawky kid--somepin naow like stuffed possum with baked sweet yams--haow even the mention o' that lovely dish makes my mouth fair water, an' my eyes glisten like raindrops on the grass. then there's co'nbread, hoe-cake we uster call hit in them days when----" "oh! you'll be sure to pick all your beloved dishes out of the menu, brother wally;" jack interrupted to tell him; "only i hope you keep that appetite of yours in check; what would become of all my well-laid plans for a great kill of ducks and geese if i had to leave you on your back in a charleston hospital here, down with gastro-enteritis, on account of an over indulgence in rich food?" "gosh amighty! doant mention that sort o' thing again, partner; i'll try an' bridle this ferocious appetite o' mine, an' hold her in check, shore i will. gaster--trig--er whatever it was aint agwine to get a grip on _me_, no suh." after dinner had been disposed of they again repaired to their room, perk having an armful of papers with which he meant to pass the time while his chum was chatting with the government agent, and picking up quantities of fresh information to add to what he had already accumulated. jack had him promise faithfully not to think of stepping out of the room, and to also refrain from opening the door to any caller. "we're stacking up against a desperate bunch of dare-devils, don't forget, comrade, who'd hold life cheap--at least any other life but their own--if it had to be snuffed out in order to further their evil ends. in a case like this it's a whole lot better to overrate your enemy, than to think too cheaply of him. have a pleasant time, and i'll be back inside of a few hours. so-long!" chapter xiii picking up facts when jack found himself shaking hands with his newly acquired "second cousin" one keen glance seemed quite enough to tell him mr. casper herriott was a man after his own heart--genial, with a warm handclasp, yet possessing a firm jaw, a keen eye, and all the marks to signify that the government had picked out the right type of business executive when he was placed in his present position of authority at the port of charleston. so, too, did he appreciate the delightful lady who gave him her hand and a wise smile, as though she considered it rather amusing to thus meet a relative of her husband who had bobbed up out of a clear sky, and seemed to be such a worth-while young fellow, just the kind any lady delights to have enter her home, and meet her children. these latter were a boy of about ten and a delightful little miss of perhaps six or seven, so pretty that jack could hardly take his eyes off her bewitching face. he decided that of course they could not have been taken into the secret, and actually believed him to belong to their father's family. for some little time they sat and talked on general topics; the children presently going to bed as though their time had arrived; also expressing the wish that they would see the new relation again very soon--evidently jack had made as favorable an impression on the youngsters as upon their parents. mrs. herriott soon turned the conversation into aviation channels, as though realizing that certain information she had been desirous of obtaining along the line of the new fad might be furnished by this wide-awake young chap, who moreover, she had undoubtedly been told by her husband, was one of the brightest and most successful of the men of the government secret service active roll. jack, being filled with knowledge pertaining to his life calling, the mastery of the air, took extreme pleasure in giving her explanations to her queries that apparently afforded the lady much satisfaction. then along about half-past eight mr. herriott made some plausible excuse for asking his guest to accompany him to his "den," where he wished to ask his professional opinion in connection with a fine new hammerless marlin repeating shotgun, which he had lately purchased, with the intention of later on spending a few days among the mallards and black ducks at a club he had joined. it was indeed a fact that he had such a brand-new gun, which he handed to jack, with a whimsical smile; the other carefully looked it over; tested the hammerless feature; saw that it was a six-shot twelve-bore marlin shotgun, and then gravely handed it back with words of the highest praise, just as though he had been examining a new production of an old friend. "i can well understand how you'll have considerable enjoyment out of that hard-shooting gun, sir," was his warm comment; "i've been out in a sneakbox with one of the same pattern, and found it trustworthy beyond description." "i'll just lock the door so we may not be disturbed by some servant, and then we can have a heart-to-heart confab--cousin rodman!" both of them smiled in unison at the conceit; and then, having fixed the door to his satisfaction, mr. herriott drew his chair alongside the one into the depths of which jack had sunk, following a wave of his host's hand in that direction. "in the start let me acknowledge that i've been a bit keen about meeting you, mr. ralston," he went on to say, warmly; "i've heard certain matters discussed, as far as such are spoken of in our circles, and had conceived a very high opinion of your abilities along the line of the hazardous profession you are following. i chance to know at the same time how well they think of you up above; and that they have shown this by the fact of entrusting such a difficult task to your working out. i am in full sympathy with what you plan to attain, and shall do anything and everything in my power to assist you to a complete success." "i am sure that is most kind of you, sir," jack hastened to say; "and i hope to pick up many valuable points through my association with you, which is so fortunate; because there are still many things i should know better than i do, and which must be mastered before i can venture to make a real start in the game." "it pleases me to hear you say that, since it shows how you appreciate the terrible difficulties, the overshadowing perils, and the enormity of the syndicate you will find yourself up against. it certainly requires a nervy chap to undertake to pit his wit and energies against so powerful a group as these men, of high and low degree, banded together for spoils only, have organized. and now, i presume you have a list of important questions which you wish to fire at me; so we had better be making a start." all of this had been spoken in low tones, that could never have been caught beyond a closed door; besides, mr. herriott had cautioned his good wife to see that such servants as they employed in the house, all colored, and who were supposed to be absolutely reliable, were where they should be at that time of night, and not "snooping" about the halls, or outside near the windows, over which the shades had been drawn so carefully beforehand. accordingly, the way being now open for acquiring more or less information, jack drew out a folded paper, and began to put the first question. these things do not necessitate their being noted here, although to jack they meant a great deal, serving to fasten in concrete form fragments of his view of the situation; and by degrees make a complete whole, thus giving him the grasp he required to accomplish his end. mr. herriott answered slowly, as though anxious to make no mistake that might cost the bold workers unnecessary trouble or risk. he might have been a lawyer on the stand, so studiously did he tell whatever he happened to know of the point jack was trying to have made clear. jack was wonderfully heartened--with such a clean spoken and well informed witness in the chair he could already see things were bound to speed along, and bring him much grist for the mill. when in the end his list of queries was finished, mr. herriott hastened to assure him he stood ready to answer any others that might occur to his new-found friend later on; for jack had already mentioned how he and perk would "stay around," possibly for as long as ten days, or two weeks, there was so much to learn, such great need for him to investigate many regions in that wilderness of swamp and watercourses marking the northward shore line. so far as he had gone in the matter, jack felt much encouraged; although knowing full well by far the worst was yet to come. these preliminaries seemed only in the nature of skirmishes, with the fierce battle in prospect. mr. herriott had told him many things having a distinct bearing on the great adventure; mention of which will be made later on, when jack starts posting his chum. this was only the first of several interviews he expected to hold with the accommodating government representative, as step by step he climbed the heights, and reached the climax just before plunging into the fray, on the principle that it was his duty to "hew close to the line, let the chips fall where they willed." it was after ten when jack arrived at the hotel. feeling particularly dry before ascending to their room, he satisfied his thirst by stepping into the convenient drugstore, and supping a cold cream soda. this was on the principle that if he knew perk--and he had reason to believe he surely did--the other might be expected to shower him with questions of every variety, in his eagerness to learn how their plans were progressing; so that his throat would soon become too dry to keep up the chatter necessary to appease the voracious one. he found perk drowsing in his chair, the evening paper scattered all over the floor, as it had been tossed aside after being perused in search of such items along the line of aviation and government work in suppressing lawless breaks in the customs service and coast patrol, always matters of supreme importance in the eyes of a loyal and industrious secret service man. perk jumped up when the door opened, as if suddenly realizing that after all he had neglected to fasten it as jack had advised. "by gum! if i didn't jest furget 'bout lockin' that door, partner!" perk went on to exclaim, winking very hard as the electric light hit his eyes after his "bit of a nap;" but jack said nothing in reproof, only settled down in a chair, beckoned the other to draw alongside, and calmly remarked: "got an earful for you, brother--lots of interesting things to tell; and you want to make a mental note of each and every one, so's not to forget if the occasion arises. now listen, and be prepared to speak up if you're puzzled." chapter xiv perk gets an earful "go to it, ole hoss; i'm all set!" was the way perk announced the fact that every atom of drowsiness had fled from his eyes, and he was as wide-awake as any hawk that ever darted down on a farmer's chicken pen. accordingly jack started in to tell of the pleasant time he had experienced while spending a couple of hours with mr. casper herriott and his charming family. perk was mildly interested at first, which was saying a good deal, considering how anxious he felt to have the narrator "get down to brass tacks," as he himself would have expressed it; meaning facts intimately connected with the perils and anticipated progress of their present big adventure. when, however, jack reached the point where his host had made him promise to fetch his best pal along at some later date, as he was particularly anxious to meet and know him, perk manifested fresh interest, and even asked several questions, thus learning what mr. herriott had said about having heard more or less concerning his, perk's, good qualities--and eccentricities. "shore," he told jack, soberly. "i'll be glad to meet up with the gent any time yeou see fit to invite me along--mebbe when yeou've sorter got matters hitched to the post, an' we're figgerin' on jumpin' off fo' keeps. i doant know 'baout the lady, since i aint much on talkin' to sech; but i'd jest _love_ to see them kids--got a soft spot in my ole heart fo' awl boys an' gals, 'specially them that aint much--er soperfisticated--hanged if i know haow to git that ere word; but anyway yeou ketch my meanin', partner." then jack began to branch off to other things, with perk sitting there, his eyes never once leaving the face of his chum, drinking in every low-spoken word as though he meant to print the same indelibly on the tablets of his memory--a bit fickle, it must be confessed, when he was caught unawares. one thing followed another, and the interest seemed to increase rather than diminish; until perk was breathing hard, and making a whistling sound between his set teeth, a little habit he had when intensely excited. "i asked about the amphibian that was to be placed at our disposal," jack informed the other later on; "and mr. herriott apologized because, as he said, he understood it had been decided best and safest for all concerned if instead of the wonderful new navy speed boat, one of the latest patterns along that line, as first designed for us, they had sent a much used curtiss falcon; although certain new fangled devices had been attached, such as combination wheels and pontoons, that had been successfully tried out in active service, and were much the worse for wear, but staunch for all that." "gee whiz! that's goin' to tickle a feller named er-wally a heap, let me tell yeou, buddy!" exclaimed perk, with glistening eyes. "allers did hanker to see haow that ere contraption panned aout. what else is there 'baout the boat we'll 'preciate, boss?" "a number of up-to-date things that are apt to come in handy," jack told him; "but remember, pains have been taken to make it appear they've been attached to the flying ship for quite some time--it might look suspicious if they were all _new_, as though placed there for some particular purpose--get the full meaning of that, do you, wally?" "yeah, jest so," the other made answer, a bit hesitatingly, but with growing assurance in his manner; "them bally guys got sharp eyes, an' if so be they happens to have a spy right hyah in charleston town, he'd lamp sech extravagance, an' keep an eye on weuns." "that's the right answer, boy--you said it. well, another fine thing mr. herriott told me, was connected with a suppression of the row made by our exhausts. you know that's been a source of great annoyance to us in times past, when it meant a whole lot if we could get close to our intended quarry without kicking up such a tremendous racket that every living thing inside ten miles must know an airship was somewhere around." "hot-diggetty-dig! air yeou tellin' me they done got that squall muzzled at last--that yeou kin make a grand sneak up on yeour meat withaout them suspectin' a single thing?" "well, they do say it's pretty close to having the noise kept under perfect control," jack went on to state. "whenever you want to stop the staccato sounds from publishing your coming to the entire country, ten miles in every direction, all you have, to do is to press a button, and the muffler gets down to business automatically. even the whirling sound of the propeller has been fairly quieted in the same way." "say, that shore is great news!" perk exclaimed, enthusiastically; "an' i'll be near crazy to see haow she works, aput in practice." "just hold your horses until tomorrow, when we'll go out to the field and take our first flight in the old cabin curtiss falcon ship, to find how she handles. i never had the pleasure of piloting one of that type of ships, and so there'll be a heap for both of us to learn." "shucks! i done handled a amphib many a time, but that was years back, when they didn't near come up to the new kind; an' with all them contraptions attached in the bargain. it's agoin' to be high sport dodgin' 'raound over them swamps an' wild sections o' territory, duckin' daown to settle on some bayou, or mebbe a meanderin' river with a fierce current, sech as i read they got close to the atlantic seaboard--bet yeour boots it is, partner." "i reckon you're right there, buddy; but for the present we mustn't have much thought for amusing ourselves--everything we do should have a decided bearing on the carrying out of our game." "shore thing, boss," agreed perk, not at all dismayed at having cold water thrown on his high hopes; "but if so yeou happens to git a good chance to knock over a brace o' fat mallards, in carryin' aout the duckin' part o' aour program, why, there aint any crime 'baout makin' a nice cookin' fire ashore, be they, and havin' real wild game fo' supper? we gotter eat to live, yeou knows, an' i'm right fond o' duck, when in camp." jack grinned, and shook his head, even though smiling, as if he found his chum's specious argument unanswerable. "we'll leave all that to the future, brother," he told perk; "it isn't always advisable to cross a stream until you come to it." then he went on to reel off still more of the information passed along to him by his late host; and while many things he told may not have seemed as important in perk's eyes as the two just mentioned, nevertheless he tried to pay strict attention, and asked numerous questions, to convince jack he understood all he said. "and before we take off for a spin," jack added, as an after thought; "we must get all the raft of things aboard the amphibian we fetched here to use in our work. there will be other necessary stuff to pick up from time to time, as we advance along our road; for we've got to remember that once we make the grand getaway we'll not see the floodlights or boundary zones of charleston aviation field again until we've won our game; or come back defeated, as others have done before us, men supposed to be as clever as they make them in our particular line." "then we got a big day afore us tomorrow, eh, what, partner?" "looks that way, buddy," jack lost no time in saying; "and on that account i reckon now we'd better call a halt on this talkie, and hit the hay. for one i'm about as sleepy as they make 'em, and ready to crawl between the sheets, leaving tomorrow to look after itself." "meanin' to run up an' see the gov'nor tomorrow, any?" queried perk, as he started to take off his shoes, and suppressing a big yawn while so doing. "i made an arrangement to get over to his house tomorrow night, should i have further questions to put up to him," jack admitted. "then again there's always a chance of some later important news coming in from headquarters, such as we ought to hear about without delay, since it could bring about some sort of change in our plan of campaign." perk grunted, as though he grasped the idea; but was really too tired himself to think of asking more solutions of the possible puzzles as yet bothering his brain. with the coming of dawn they were both astir, for when on duty perk could cut his sleeping portion in two, if it was deemed necessary; while jack had ever been able to get along with a few hours recuperation each night. they went down and enjoyed a fine breakfast, although perk had to be warned again not to founder; since they had a strenuous day ahead, when he needed to be in the best possible condition. consequently he had to deny himself a third helping of sausages and fried eggs; as well as a fourth plate of griddle cakes; dripping with fresh butter and southern syrup. however, he "opined" he would be able to hold out until lunch time; for which he meant to be provided by securing some stuff at a bakery, together with hard-boiled eggs aplenty--trust an old campaigner with vast experience for looking after the "eats" when backed by an abundance of the "long green." when they had laid out a program that covered everything for the day, they took a taxi, and ran out in style to the aviation field. jack assumed the post of running things, as was his right, acting as a wealthy young sportsman, used to doing just about what he pleased, and "letting the world go hang!" he had a little chat with his good friend of the previous day, and they learned that their other ship, the curtiss-falcon, was housed in the same blevins aircraft corporation hangar that now sheltered their big fokker tri-motored craft; which made things doubly comfortable, when they would start changing their possessions from one to the other. jack only waited until some call took the superintendent off, leaving them by themselves, when with perk's help he commenced the job of making the transfer. this had been taken into consideration before they left san diego, and later on in the curtiss-wright hangar at candler field, atlanta; so that everything had been placed in a series of cartons, such as might be tossed overboard when their contents were disposed of--particularly in the case of edibles, and such perishable supplies. these handy cartons would have prevented any one from knowing what they were stocking up with, and in such wise warded off possible suspicions that might have started a string of happenings none too pleasant to contemplate. after this job was completed came the running of the antique curtiss cabin amphibian out of its hangar, and settled in position for the coming takeoff; with perk all agrin, as if he anticipated a glorious cruise. chapter xv the trial spin perk had closely examined a number of things about the amphibian in which they anticipated carrying out the gigantic task committed to their hands by the chief at headquarters; and whom they looked up to as worthy of their utmost respect as an organizer able to consider the utmost details. most of his scrutiny, however, did not have any connection with new gadgets affixed to the black dashboard fronting the pilot's seat; but lay in the direction of the combination of wheels for landing on solid ground, also pontoons for use when seeking to drop down on the water of river, lagoon, or even the sea itself. he spent considerable time in examining the working of this contrivance, which he had reason to fully appreciate--if only it proved all that was claimed for it, which was soon to be settled. then the new-fangled muffler for the engine exhaust was a source of vast attention on perk's part; jack could see him shaking his head incredulously; and from this suspected perk of doubting its efficiency; but then perk happened to be something of a skeptic, and even though he did not come from missouri he usually had to be shown before yielding his doubts. "let's get out of here, and aloft," suggested jack, when he found it was about an hour before noon time. the field just then presented a rather animated appearance, as ships were coming in, and going out; with several taking up parties who were eager to try a first air swing. this just suited jack, for it would keep many curious eyes off their movements; and just then the less notice they drew the better he would be pleased. they picked up a couple of field workers to lend a hand, and hence their rather seedy looking water and air craft was wheeled into position, after it had been serviced while yet in the hangar, a very nice undertaking for one who disliked publicity. "here, wally," jack went on to say, when everything seemed in readiness for their initial jump, "suppose you take hold, seeing you're more accustomed to this type of boat than i am. however i'll soon get acquainted, and then it'll be okay. step in, and grab the stick, partner; nothing to keep us on ground that i know of; and i'm anxious to have a look-in at the waterways where we're hoping for a run of luck with the ducks and geese." much of this of course was for the benefit of the two men in dungarees, for how were jack and his pard to know but that one of them might turn out to be a clever spy in the pay of the never sleeping combine, jealous of their hitherto unsurpassed success in beating the customs, and in a way daring the secret service branch of the federal government to "do its level best to down them"? perk was not in the least averse to taking the place of honor when the amphibian would start its initial flight in their hands. he proved the absolute truth of what he had said about being fairly at home with the ship that belonged to both the land and water contingent; for they made only a short run when contact with the ground was cut off, and like a bird broken away from its brass cage and soaring upward, they started to spiral in the effort to gain altitude. when he had a ceiling of say about five hundred feet or more, perk commenced a wide swing, wishing to circle the city on the seashore, to view it from a different angle than their former experience had given them. "now point her blunt nose into the north, buddy--we're off!" jack bawled in the ear of the pilot, the ear-phones not having as yet been adjusted--all those things came under the line of perk's duty, and would be attended to in due time. they speedily left the good city of charleston behind them, and were passing over the navy-yard; which place perk meant to examine more closely with his glasses on another occasion, when matters would be easier for him. "how does she go?" shouted jack, later on, when they could no longer catch even a fugitive glimpse of the city, saving the cloud of smoke that almost always hung over the high buildings and steeples. "bang up, boss; works like a charm!" yelled perk, happily, as though he was not "caring a continental" just how long jack allowed him to hold the post of honor. "whoever looked after the job o' gettin' this classic old-timer in great shape for this work, he shore knew his onions, i'll say. it's a snap to run this boat, if yeou want to know my 'pinion." "i think i'll take a whirl at the controls, partner!" cried jack; "stay just where you are for a while at least; i can play the game as a back-seat driver. here goes, then." he was pleased to find it no trouble whatever to handle the amphibian as though he knew everything about such craft; after all airships are run pretty much alike; and it depends on the adaptability of the pilot as to whether he can work the same as with his own familiar type of craft--there are some people who are able to master any and all models of automobiles, even though handling them for the first time, especially men mechanically inclined by nature,--and jack happened to belong to that class. "you can go about your duties, wally; i'll work over into the front seat okay, for its an easy job, i reckon. when we make up our minds to dip down and wet the pontoons in some body of water, fresh or salt, i'll let you handle the boat again; though i imagine i could do the thing without much splash if i was put to it. i'll soon get the hang of the trick, you can well believe." "huh! yeou would, mister--it aint much that'd faize yeou, take it from me as knows." after that conversation was such a tremendous effort that it languished until a better opportunity opened up--this would come when jack found it expedient to make a test of the muffler system, with which their boat had been supplied, and which perk was eager to see tried out. to the delight of both fliers the device worked to a charm, most of the deafening racket being abated, even when they going at the fastest speed of which the "has-been" curtiss-falcon was capable of exhibiting--much more than a hundred miles an hour, perk figured. "huh! mebbe naow they call this ship a relic o' the past," he grunted, when the success of the experiment was assured; "but i wanter say right naow there aint amany up-to-the-minute ships as kin run circles 'raound this _tub_, as some wise guy pilot'd call her. see, yeou kin hear ev'ry word i'm asayin' an' yet i aint ahollerin' any to notice. it's a bully invention, an' shows where we're agettin' in this science o' aviation. from what i hears, them ships as is acarryin' smuggled stuff 'long the seaboard aint great at speed, 'cause they don't need to be, their job bein' to carry hefty loads each trip, an' be steady goers. if the chanct ever comes to try this falcon aout agin one o' that dirty bunch, i'm wagerin' we'll overhaul the same hands down, an' no takers." "i hope your prediction proves a true one, brother," jack told him; "for, come to think of it, there's a pretty good chance we may yet be up against a hot chase, either the pursued, or better still, the pursuer; in either case having the speediest craft would be an advantage worth while. yes, that seems to be okay, and a big improvement over all that row we're accustomed to carrying along with us wherever we go." they had been heading up the coast, keeping within sight of the atlantic most of the time; but paying constant attention to inland pictures. of course perk had before then brought his faithful and much beloved glasses out of their nook, and was making frequent use of the same, staring this way and that, sometimes making a noise with his mouth as though grunting his surprise to discover what a clear atmosphere attended their trial flight, and how close up the powerful binocular lens brought far distant objects. "it shore is a big treat jest to be squattin' hyah, suh, an' observin' so much all 'raound us. looks like a mighty tough region daown there, i got to admit; an' if them slick guys air ahidin' their landin' place where them awful swampy tracts lie, we're agoin' to have aour hands right full alocatin' the same, an' gettin' what we come after in the bargain." "don't worry, partner," jack told him, in as smooth a voice as though he could see nothing whatever to cause undue anxiety. "rome, you may remember, wasn't built in a day; there'll be heaps of time to get our little work in; and we were told to take as long as we thought wise--that there was no need of trying to wind things up in a hurry." "that's correct, boss," admitted the easily convinced perk; and then deftly turning the talk in another quarter he went on to add, pointing as he made the remark: "looky yondah, suh, see that neat lit' bayou jest anestlin' there like a private pond. wouldn't it be fine if we could on'y drop daown, an' try aour pontoons on that sheet o' water. doant seem to be a livin' thing araoun' neither, less it might be a 'gator, stickin' his nose up to see if the coast it be clear." jack turned the craft to a severe dip, at which the pleased perk grinned horribly, as if he considered he had made a real "wise-crack." "goin' daown, folks--main floor next--ev'rybody aout then what aint agwine to the basement!" he went on to remark, quaintly; and jack could see how his best pal was earnestly trying to acquire the genuine southern manner of speech, tinctured with a touch of negro dialect. "i'm going to try to make contact myself, brother," announced the confident pilot, as, after several circling movements he headed up against the sea breeze that was blowing from the southeast just then. perk did not appear to feel any concern, such confidence did he have in the other's ability to make landings so soft that an egg would hardly have been crushed by any jumpy motion. jack watched his contact with the water--the big boat dipped, sprang up, came in touch again, and then settled down to making headway, the little wavelets curling away from the bows of the pontoons with a murmurous sound very similar to the gurgling of a running mountain brook. "splendid work, buddy, better'n i could a done it myself, with all the sperience i done had long ago. an' she does work to a charm, sure as yeou're born. we're in bully great luck, all right, to have 'em pick aout sech a dandy ole boat like this, that does her makers credit. i'll tell the world." jack was not planning to stay in that lonely bayou for any length of time; what they were out to pay particular attention to on this their initial trip was the lay of the land; also to familiarize themselves with the working of the amphibian; so presently he again left the water, and arose like a lark. chapter xvi all in a day's work "and i gotter to admit," perk was saying, shortly after they had gained the altitude that gave him a chance to sweep the horizon with his glasses, "even the ole weather sharp stands in aour favor. look at that sky, buddy; did yeou ever in all yeour life set eyes on a clearer stretch--nary a single cloud pokin' its nose in sight; an' to think o' the measly days an' nights i uster spend in the mail-carrier business, asloggin' 'long with a capacity load, and mebbe ice formin' on my wings to beat the band. yeah! this lay o' aourn aint so bad--some o' the time." they swung over much of the territory for fifty miles north of charleston, with jack noting the lay of the land as cleverly as any topography expert charting a region, could display. in that wonderful brain of his he undoubtedly must have been engaged in making a mental chart of the ground; the sinuosities of the streams that ran with such eccentricity toward the nearby ocean; the numerous more or less possible landing-places where both boats from salt water, and those dropping down from the clouds, might find a resting place; where their contraband cargoes could be taken aboard waiting trucks, and be transported to safe havens, despite the utmost vigilance of the customs officers and coast patrol forces to apprehend them. this initial survey of the vast territory open to the expert smugglers, most of it absolutely familiar to those engaged in the illegal traffic, undoubtedly must have impressed the secret service man with the immensity of the task so recently placed upon his shoulders. just the same, the only visible result of this realization lay in a tightening of jack's firm lips, and a fresh gleam in his steady eyes, as though he might be once again dedicating all his energies, his life itself, to the undertaking as yet so young, so untried. "so much for the territory close to charleston," he told his mate, as he turned the nose of his airship once more toward the city; "i've got that down pretty pat for a beginning. the next time we come out it will be to take up the survey about where we left off today, and head further north." "judgin' from what yeou say, partner, i kinder gu--reckons as haow yeou kim to the conclusion they gets their business in further away from dear ole charleston--haow 'bout that, suh?" "possibly so, wally, but from what i've picked up from many sources, i'm already half convinced we'll be apt to rim across the whole works within fifty miles or so of the city, it may be where that swift and crooked yamasaw river skirts the coastways, dodging this way and that, even running backwards sometimes, so when you've been going with the current two hours you find yourself within a biscuit toss of a tree you passed long ago." so in due time they dropped down again on the landing-field close to charleston. one thing perk felt absolutely certain about, which was that his chief was not going to start real operations until he had accomplished the most exacting examination of the entire ground; and felt able to picture in his mind just how the government baiters carried out their extensive smuggling game by sea and air; but when he _did_ strike it would be in a way to start strangling the hitherto successful campaign of the giant combine. they both carried on in a perfectly natural fashion, much of their talk when in the company of any third party being along the line of their intended sport--how they had been able to discover a number of promising secluded ponds and bayous where already thus early in the ducking season a considerable gathering of the feathered game had been noted. perk fell into the humor of the trick, and even boasted of what a vacancy he meant to create in the flocks of ducks and geese before the termination of mr. warrington's vacation caused him to start north once more to his regular "business" of attending board meetings in a bunch of companies where he chanced to be a heavy stockholder, and a director as well. really to perk, who liked a joke as well as the next one, this thing promised no end of fun; every hour of the day found him more deeply interested than before, and eager to push ahead. that night in the sanctity of their room, (speaking even there in low voices as if they more than half believed the very walls might have ears) perk took occasion to mention the remarkable gift his companion had with regard to a retentive memory. "i jest doant see haow yeou kin 'member things like yeou do, ole hoss," he was saying, evidently fishing for light on a subject that had often confounded his intellect. "onct yeou hears a long-winded talk, an' i'll be hanged if yeou can't spin her off word fur word, an' never a single slip-up. haow kin yeou do it, suh, i'd shore like to know?" "it just can't be explained, brother, and that's a fact," jack told him in his smiling way. "all you know is that nature's been kind in giving you such a faculty, and let it go at that. i may seem remarkable to you, in that i've got such a good memory; but there have been others beside whom i'm a regular piker. did you ever hear of blind tom, brother?" "huh! 'pears to me i did--he was some sorter black man, wa'nt he, suh, what could play extra good on the pianner?" "extra good--why, that doesn't mean a tenth of what he could do--one of the greatest natural phenomena ever known in america, or anywhere--he was black as the ace of spades, and unusually homely, so they hated to watch him when he was playing; yet he had the most astounding memory ever heard of--didn't know one note of music from another--just depended on his ears, and that amazing talent that nature had implanted in his, strange uncouth soul." "what could he do, partner, as was so wonderful?" demanded perk, seemingly more or less interested. "of course i never saw or listened to him play, for he was dead long before my time," jack continued; "but i've heard people who had, and i've also read accounts of it in magazine articles, so i'm pretty well posted myself. if you turned your head away, they say you'd have sworn some famous composer was hitting the ivories of the piano, and bringing out the most divine strains ever heard. he could listen just _once_ to some classical and difficult sonata played by an eminent performer, (something blind tom had never heard before in all his life) and then sitting down he would reproduce the whole selection exactly as the famous artist had played it, with never a chord missing. people used to be awed, as though realizing they were in the presence of a miracle!" "gee whiz! it must a been somethin' fierce, boss," was perk's only comment. "you know they say the chinese and japanese are wonderful imitators, and can reproduce any pattern to the minutest detail that is placed before them; but the best of them would be ten classes below that negro genius. so don't think i'm anything but a tyro, brother, with my poor memory. "hot-diggetty-dig! but yeou're good enough to make a poor bucko like me take a seat way back; that's the honest truth, er mr. warrington, suh." as the following day broke with a promise of more clear weather jack decided to waste no time. accordingly they were off again, and speeding toward the north at a pace well over a hundred miles an hour. "gosh-a-mighty! i never'd have reckoned this here ole boat could hit it up so pretty," perk at one time called out, when they had muffled the engine exhaust so effectually that they were well able to converse without raising their voices to a shout. "she muster been built outen a number one stuff to hold together like she's done. if we got through this here job alive, partner, it's gwine to be up to us-uns to write a sweet letter to the company what constructed this here amphibian, an' tell 'em jest haow much we thinks o' aour boat." "possibly we may, partner," the other told him; "but even that might break the secret service rule of keeping identities well covered up, lest you lose some of your effectiveness by getting too familiar. besides, i've got an idea this boat's been reconstructed--that as originally built she wasn't in the amphibian class at all--some gent who owned her must have been fond of the model, and feeling the necessity for having a ship that could land on water, had her altered to suit his wants." "that may well be, suh," perk went on to assert, with one of his nods; "but jest the same they made a mighty good job o' it, i'm asayin', suh. huh! to tell the truth right naow i wouldn't cry much if i never did see aour ole bus, the big fokker, agin; i've fell so turrible hard fo' this hyah ship, built to imitate a duck, what kin swim on the water, rise from the same when yeou wants to git agoin', an' cut ahead at more'n a hundred clean an hour. huh!" when they had reason to believe, (from landmarks taken notice of on the preceding day by perk, as they turned for home) they were covering a fresh stretch of land and water, their vigilance was once more centered upon the task of closely observing every detail, and making more mental notes. during this cruise they discovered next to nothing incriminating--as a rule they found themselves gazing down on a tangled mass of forest growth, with silver threads of water running crisscross here and there; or it might be muddy looking rivers and creeks meandering along in their long march to the sea, covering at least ten miles where a crow would fly the same distance in one mile or possibly less. jack had noted a number of places where the conditions seemed more or less favorable for such secret work as the successful landing of illicit cargoes necessitated; but while the spot seemed everything that could be wished, there was never a sign of its being used for such purposes--no sheds, or even a well-used road leading into the pine woods, such as must be required if heavy truck loads of goods were to be carried off. "it looks as if we'll have to go over that first fifty or sixty miles again, with a fine tooth comb," jack told his comrade, as the afternoon caught them still speeding gaily along, not over three thousand feet above the checkered landscape below. "what we agoin' to do 'baout hit, then, suh?" demanded the puzzled perk. "we shore caint keep startin' aout from charleston every mawnin' like we're adoin' right naow, covering hundreds o' miles, an' hope to git back by daylight." "oh! that needn't trouble us anything to speak of, matey," the other hastened to assure him. "if necessary we'll drop down, and make camp for the night, pick things up in the morning, and take chances of getting back to charleston any old time later on." "say, less do that same tonight, suh," suggested the artful perk, with his most engaging smile; but jack shook his head in the negative. "possibly we may tomorrow; but i've agreed to see mr. herriott tonight, partner." chapter xvii spinning the net again, after jack had paid a visit to the home of mr. herriott he repeated much of what fresh information he had picked up during the evening, some of which he deemed more or less important, as the facts dove-tailed with other details, to make something of a complete structure. "tomorrow we'll hang around the city, as there are a few things i've got down on my list of wanted articles," he observed in conclusion. "besides, i promised him i'd fetch you around so as to make his acquaintance, for he always asks about you." "huh! spose i jest _has_ to get over there some time'r other," perk remarked, as though not particularly eager to go. "but i shore hopes as heow on the follerin' mawnin' we kin start off, an' go so far we'll jest _have_ to make camp in them there dark gloomy lookin' pine woods." "it must depend a whole lot on the kind of weather they dish up for that day," jack informed him. "if it's foggy, and the visibility poor, we might as well hang out here in the city, since we couldn't do any paying business looking into a blank wall of fog, you know, wally boy." "okay--suits me jest as well as things go," the other announced carelessly enough; "i aint acarin' a scrap whether school keeps or not, so long as we gits aour three square meals a day, an' dandy ones at that, real southern style, like i used to have when i was a birmin'ham kid, runnin' raound barefoot with my mates, jest like tom sawyer an' huck finn uster do in them ole mississippi days we done reads 'baout in the books." it was just as well that jack had decided to drop a day in their search for hidden haunts of the smugglers; for when morning came the sky was overcast, and poor visibility seemed to be "on tap" for the entire day. jack went about doing his errands, while perk seemed content to stick to the isolation of their comfortable room, doing some reading of the bundle of well known daily papers he had managed to secure at a shop they passed during the short walk taken in company after breakfast--that, and the waiting to get up an appetite for dinner seemed to be the full extent of perk's ambition, it was plain to be seen--when he had a day off, and the "eats" were so unusually tempting, it pleased perk to act as if a lazy streak had gripped him. "i think i forgot to tell you," jack chanced to tell his comrade as the afternoon began to wane, "that we are invited to dine with mr. herriott and his fine little family tonight. oh! you needn't be so alarmed, partner; we'll simply clean up, and look a bit dressy; you'll soon be on good terms with both him and his charming wife; as to the kids i warrant you fall dead for them at first sight." perk, whose face had at first taken on an expression of sheer dejection, seemed to brighten up at mention of the youngsters; for he even grinned, and started to the bathroom, as if to begin washing up. they arrived in good time, and perk was soon made acquainted with the entire little family--of course under the name and character beneath which he was hiding his own identity at that particular time. just as sagacious jack had surmised would happen, perk was soon feeling quite at home, making "wise-cracks" with the two wideawake youngsters, and even engaging in more or less conversation with his host and mrs. herriott. it chanced that there seemed to be a dearth of news that evening, so they could spend the time after dinner in other ways than "going into a huddle," as perk put it, and having a siege of explanations and surmises. mr. herriott coaxed perk to speak of his early experiences, partly when over in france, during war times, then later on with the mounted police up in northwest canada, and also as one of the early pilots carrying the mails, as far as was done in those bygone days and nights. when perk was once fairly aroused he apparently lost his customary bashfulness, and could tell a story that brought out more than a few laughs because of what queer things he narrated, and his comical way of relating the same, his expressive freckled face all working with imitations of how other men did their talking. "i never sits so comfy in the cabin o' a up-to-date tri-motored airship these here days," he went on to remark, when well started, "with all sorts o' instruments to navigate by, that i doant think 'baout heow we don't fly any more by jest instinct, like we uster do when the wright boys was a perfectin' their fust crude heavier'n air flyin' ship. today, suh, we sits at the controls, an' keeps aour eyes on aour instruments all the time, an' doan't care a red cent what aour wonderful _instincts_ say 'baout it." "i never thought about that fact, wally," mr. herriott hastened to exclaim; "please go on, and tell us something more along that same line. you certainly must have passed through some strange experiences, i'd say." "shucks! but it shore does make me laugh aout loud when i looks back to them early days, an' 'members the funny way we used to find aout whether the silly bus was a movin' up, er daown, to the left, or to the right. the very fust instrument, if yeou could call it that, to ease up on the instinct way o' doin' was invented by one o' them smart wright brothers. say, it was on'y a light piece o' string, tied jest in front o' the pilot's face. when we was a goin' near ten miles an hour, mebbe fifteen at a stretch, we kept an eye on that string right along, an' could tell what the ole ship was adoin', 'cause like it might a been if she floated in the wind straight at aour face we knowed we was keepin' on a level keel--if it went daown a bit why we was climbin' some; if the string struck us in the forehead in course the plane must be droppin'; and same way if it flowed to the right, or the left. an' say, i never did know that early wright invention to kick over the traces, an' fool me any." even jack apparently had never heard about that clever device, however primitive it might seem when placed alongside the wonderful means at present used to ascertain the same things--such as slipping, skidding, turning, climbing, or diving--today the experienced pilot watches the air-speed instrument, his compass, the bank and turn indicator. only by placing entire dependence on the instruments in the cockpit can a pilot fly with any certainty in foggy weather, when it is utterly impossible to see any fixed point, either on the earth below or in the heavens above. and this is only one great change made in both the construction of the airship in these modern days, as well as the helping hand given the pilot through the clever devices by which he is confronted when sitting at the controls. taken in all perk spent a very pleasant evening with the herriotts, and on their part they had a most uproarious time, the children particularly in romping with the jolly chap from the north. it was with considerable eagerness that perk bounded out of bed on the ensuing morning, and rushed to a window to ascertain what the chances were for a promising day in the coast skyways. "okay, partner!" he sang out blithely, after one brief look at the heavens, a portion of which was visible from the hotel window; "agwine to be jest fine, an' never a whiff o' fog aout there on charleston harbor an' bay." "then we'll get busy, and make as early a start as possible," jack announced, also quitting his cot. "an' we doant kim back thisaway tonight, either, i shore reckons, boss," perk went on to add, with a happy ring in his voice; for he did yearn to eat one camp meal, when the chance came along, and no harm might follow their change of a set programme. "that depends on a good many things," jack warned him; "so i wouldn't count too heavily on our stick-it-out idea, if i were you, wally, boy. if all goes well, no accidents happen to our boat, and we get so far away from home along about the middle of the afternoon, why we'll decide then on our doings for the night. you might as well, i suppose, carry a few necessary things along, such as you'd like to eat at a campfire supper--if we think it wise to have any fire, i mean." "oh! please doant throw any gloom on aour trip today, partner; we kin make shore to drop daown in a region where there aint a chinaman's chanct o' a solitary tarheel bein' inside o' ten miles; an' the swamps araoun' makin' it ab-solutely impossible fo' sech to git to aour camp short o' six days anyway, havin' to cut his path through dense thickets; wade sloughs where the pizen water moccasins air thicker'n molasses on a cold mawnin'; with twelve-foot 'gators alayin' in wait to bite off a gink's leg quicker'n yeou could wink an eye. shucks! we jest gotter have that same campfire--withaout the same it'd be like the play o' hanblett with him left aout." jack only grinned, but perk seeing the look on his face, took courage. "there's one thing i haven't touched on as yet, brother, which might just as well be taken up now." jack was telling his comrade, as they sat eating an early breakfast, there being hardly any one besides themselves in the diningroom; so they could talk in low tones, and keeping an eye on the waiters, so as to change the subject should one of them draw near. "huh! somethin' mebbe naow mr. h been atellin' you-all, eh, suh?" "just that, wally; but a matter of the utmost importance, it happens, as you'll soon understand, buddy. it concerns a certain party who's going to have a hand with us in closing the net, and making a big dent in this same syndicate we're up against. his name--bend a bit closer to me--is jethro hicks." "sho! never heard it afore, give yeou my affidavy, partner!" returned perk. "of course not," snapped jack; "neither did i until mr. herriott mentioned the fact last night that he would be waiting whenever we sent out the word--waiting in a certain little bayou which we'd have picked for our hideout--waiting in an old battered powerboat he owns, to take us about in the nest of swamps which we could never navigate otherwise. you get the point, don't you, wally, boy?" "hot-diggetty-dig! jest what i do, suh; queer i never reckoned on haow we'd be able to dodge 'raound in sech crazy places, if left to aourselves. gwine to have a reg'lar pilot--woods guide fo' swamp flittin', i'd call the same! good enough, i say--caint be too many quirks set up fo' knockin' them dead game sports silly, to please me. as it is we gotter to be workin' with four hands each, if we hopes to climb 'em fo' keeps." "i'll tell you more about this same jethro hicks when i get further word through our good friend, who's as interested in the success of our deal as we are ourselves--says he has it on his mind sleeping and waking, which pleases me a whole lot. come, let's be on the move, partner; the chariot awaits us." "then we'll git aboard an' start right away, after i've laid in a few provisions that may keep the hungry wolf from aour door this very night. let's go!" half an hour afterward and they were on their way out to the aviation field in a convenient taxi; where in short order their big amphibian, properly serviced by the field force, was ready for the take-off. chapter xviii black water bayou fortune favored them again, it seemed, not only with regard to the skies, but, probably owing in part to the early hour, there were few persons scattered about the aviation grounds when they took off; and the regular attendants already understood the pair constituted a duck-hunting party, viewing the coast shooting stands with a view to getting in some good sport when finally satisfied as to location. from the beginning they hit up a high pace, fully equal to the best the amphibian had thus far accomplished. being what might be called "ambidextrous"--doubly able to leave by means of water, or solid land, it had not been necessary for them to locate on any river or bay, where they would not have the benefit of field mechanicians, and a movable filling station, as well as shelter in a comfortable hangar. jack had doubtless taken all such matters into consideration when forming his plans, and decided that the good points about staying at the regulation aviation headquarters outweighed the poor ones. they covered the first fifty miles in short order, keeping at some distance further from the sea than on their previous trips, jack having a new hunch, to the effect that possibly the rendezvous of the smugglers after all might be situated deeper inland than he had first suspected. when later on perk announced that he could just make out some city far off on the right, jack pronounced it to undoubtedly be georgetown, which lay at the junction of the pedee and the little pedee. they had flown directly over the same city on their previous trip, showing how far west of their original course they were now working. "we're going to patrol this region most carefully, partner," jack told his best pal, who as usual was handling the binoculars to the best advantage, and calling out any discovery worth while, so as to keep his mate posted. "it has all the earmarks to make it a dandy hidingplace, where these sinister operations could be pulled off, day or night, and no one the wiser. what easier than for a sea-going plane to swoop over or around georgetown, coming from some unknown point east, and then vanishing in the distance, still going west? get that, don't you, wally?" "sounds all to the good with me, suh," the other told him, nodding as he spoke. "i'm atryin' to make aout some queer things daown there; but it's all sech a scramble i jest caint do much. mebbe if we dropped a bit things'd seem different like." "i'm going further west, so as to cover the ground," jack informed him, as though his immediate plans were made up, and he did not care to change; "but later on in the day i reckon we'll be back this way, and possibly make camp for the night. i'd like to find out what sort of doings are taking place nights in this section; chances are we'll pick up some interesting points before striking charleston again." "which same'd please me a heap, mister," quoth perk; who was by now beginning to grow a little weary of what he termed "inaction;" and sighing for more strenuous times to come along, when there would be some real thrills experienced. at noon they partook of a "snack," devouring a few sandwiches, so as to take off the sharp edge of their appetites; perk apologizing to himself for eating so scantily. "if so be we're agwine to dine ashore alongside a gen-u-ine campfire," he went on in his whimsical fashion, "i wanter be in prime condition to do justice to the grub i'm meanin' to sling up fo' jest two gents, known to weuns as mr. rodman warrington, an' er--wally corkendall, of birmin'ham, suh. so take things easy, an' jest forget haow yeou're still hungry, ole man; it's on'y what that lecturer says is a figment o' the imagination, an' so you're not a bit half starved." when about the middle of the afternoon they again arrived in the neighborhood of the sector which had appealed to them both as well worth paying particular attention to, jack signified that he was meaning to do something in the line of lowering their ceiling, and finding out whether there was a chance of their making a successful drop upon the waters of that queer bayou, alongside of which ran a swift and mysterious looking river he figured might be the waccamaw. closer scrutiny convinced both of them that so far as their settling down on the surface of the lonely bayou was concerned, nothing could be seen that would interfere with such an arrangement. jack circled the spot several times, with his exhaust muffled, and even the propeller keeping unusually quiet, as though in full sympathy with their desire for secrecy. "cover every rod of both land and water with your glass, partner," he told perk; "because it means a whole lot to us to make sure that there isn't any chance for hostile eyes to take note of our stopping here. unless i'm away off in my reckoning this same bayou must be the identical place where we are to later on make a rendezvous with that cracker guide, jethro hicks, who knows every foot of these water trails--i understood he hid out in this terrible region for several years when at loggerheads with the authorities, though innocent of any crime. how does the ground look to you, buddy?" "like the ole sam patch, an' that aint no lie either, boss," perk lost no time in telling his mate; "i never did see sech a awful stretch o' mixed land an' water nohaow, nowhere; but jest the same that's zactly what we want, so's to make dead sartin they beant nobody araound hyah calc'lated to bother weuns, that's the way i looks at hit, suh." "quite right too, wally, boy!" snapped jack; "and such being the case here goes to settle down on that black water bayou--i think that was the name mr. herriott gave the slough." "gosh all hemlock! an' it couldn't have a better name, i'm asayin' suh--tough enough lookin' to give anybody a shiver; but as we're itchin' fo' to keep aour comin' secret, it suits aour case to the dot." there was plenty of room in the middle of the mysterious little lagoon for their landing, if such it could be called; and so cleverly did the pilot bring the pontoons of his craft in contact with the surface that hardly the slightest splash followed. jack lost no time in taxiing over to a certain spot that seemed to hold possibilities for the maneuver he intended putting into effect--thick trees hung low over the water, and if only they could manage to push far enough in, the boat would be beautifully camouflaged--hidden under a fringe of branches, and so well disguised as to be discovered only after a close search. "wonderfully fine," was jack's announcement after this had been successfully brought about. "why, it's almost like late evening under this thick canopy; and the bayou itself, surrounded as it is with tall cypress trees, with those long trailing beards of gray spanish moss give it a gruesome look." "urr! jest makes me think o' the ole graveyard i used to run past a goin' home late nights, when i was a country kid up in new england," perk was saying, toning his voice down to almost a whisper. it certainly did have a most funereal appearance, with the breeze making all manner of weird sounds through the tops of the trees, and the festoons of dangling moss waving to and fro like mourning banners; some unseen swamp creatures added to the shivering feeling that had attacked perk by emitting the most gruesome grunts and groans his ears had ever heard. "but it happens to be just what we were hoping to find," jack continued, looking quite pleased at the loneliness of the spot; "small chance of any of those crackers coming in this direction, when they have no business here. i reckon wally, you'll be able to have that jolly campfire your heart's so set on, without its getting us into any trouble." "huh! that all tickles me right smart, boss," chuckled the other, rapidly conquering that sensation bordering on awe, and beginning to look at things in a more sensible light. "kinder gu--reckons as haow there might be mebbe a 'gator or so in sech a slimy place as this same--that is, if sech critters do live as fur north as this south carolina swampy region; anyhaow i ain't agwine to take chances awadin' in them nasty waters, where i kin see snakes aswimmin', and pokin' their heads aout to larn what in sam hill done drapped daown in their private park. gee whiz! this is 'baout as cheerful a hole as the gateway to the lower regions, if yeou asked me what i thought, suh." they soon discovered that they were not to be allowed to take things as easy as perk may have anticipated; for presently both were employed shooing swarms of voracious mosquitoes from their exposed faces and hands. chapter xix the lonely camp "perhaps," suggested jack, tiring of this exercise after a while, "it might be just as well for us to step ashore, so you can get that fire going. a little smoke would be worth while as a smudge to drive these skeets away; they're bent on eating us alive, it seems to me." "jest as yeou sez. mister," perk acquiesced, with alacrity; and in less than three minutes he had managed to jump ashore from the end of the wing that rested on a log close to the bank of the bayou. gathering some loose wood he quickly had a blaze going, and was joined by his comrade, who took particular pains to stand to leeward of the fire, so that clouds of thick smoke would cause the fierce insects to abandon the vicinity. "i suppose that, generally speaking," jack went on to say, "we would be hunting dry wood so as to send up as little smoke as possible, for fear of attracting notice, and bringing unwelcome visitors to our camp; but in this case the chance of detection plays a very small part in the game. we certainly need lots of pungent smoke in order to drive these hordes of nippers away. so go to it, partner, the more the merrier." later on they sat down where the wind would waft some of the smoke in their direction, and being at peace with the world just then found that they could compare notes, and reach certain conclusions. although the sun was still quite some little distance above the horizon, as they figured, (being unable to see anything through that mass of cypress, and hanging moss) it was already commencing to grow dusk back of the camouflaged airship. "i knows as haow it aint time yet," perk finally spoke up, getting to his feet with determination written large upon his face; "but jest the same i caint hold aout any longer--i got to listen to the growlin' daown below-stairs, as sez its past time to stoke the furnace; so sech bein' the case i'm ameanin' to start aour supper, if so be yeou aint no 'jections, suh." "not in the slightest, wally, so get busy as soon as you like," he was told. the other did not wait for a second invitation, but making his way back to the cabin of the amphibian presently returned with both arms full of mysterious packages. after depositing the same upon the ground near the blazing fire, perk made a second trip aboard, and from that time on busied himself in the one occupation of which he seemed never to tire--making preparations to supply a rousing meal, cooked over such a bed of red embers as he delighted to supply. jack was pretty hungry himself, and enjoyed the spread greatly--its memory was likely to long haunt them; and in speaking of the past the time was apt to be set by such phrases as "something like a month after we had that glorious camp supper on black water bayou, remember, partner?" jack sat there working at his maps for some time after they had finished eating; so, too, he made numerous notes, to be conned over and over again, until he could repeat the gist of them all as occasion arose. that was his way of preparing for a campaign; and no masterly tactics of a successful war general could have been an improvement on his programme--to prepare in advance for all manner of possibilities was as natural to jack ralston as it was to breathe; which plan certainly had much to do with the customary success falling to his lot. suddenly both of them caught the distant report of a gunshot; and stared at each other, as though mentally figuring what such a thing might signify. "did you take notice which direction that gunshot seemed to come from, eh, wally?" demanded jack, presently, as no other similar sound followed. "i'd say from over there," perk swiftly replied, pointing toward the south as he spoke. "what dye reckons, suh, it'd mean?" he asked in turn. "oh! nothing that concerns us, i imagine, wally, boy--some chap might have run across a hunting wildcat most likely, and couldn't resist giving him the works. but it settles the direction where that secret landing place may lie, i feel almost certain. that's one of the points i wanted to pick up; and before the night is over we may be able to prove my prediction sound." "yeou doant reckons, suh, they kin see this heah fire aburnin', do yeou?" jack laughed as though the idea had no standing with him. "not in a thousand years, wally; it must be a matter of a mile, perhaps twice that between this spot and from where that gun was fired; you see, the night air heads toward us, and would carry the sound quite a long way." he proved that he felt no uneasiness by continuing the conversation that had been interrupted by the sudden far-off shot; and so perk did not hesitate to toss more fuel on his cheery campfire. they were thinking of turning in aboard the nearby boat, and seeking their necessary rest, when perk, who had unusually keen hearing, sat up and inclined his head to one side as though listening. "jest what she is, for a fack, partner," he went on to state; "an' shore as yeou're born, suh, they aint no muffler aboard _that_ ship, i'll take my affidavy on that same." "it _is_ a ship, no doubt about that, and heading this way out of the east, you want to notice, buddy," jack indicated, as though that mere fact had a deep significance in his eyes. "yeah! that's so," agreed perk, readily falling in with the conceit, as he usually did when jack was the originator of any proposition. "they air acomin' straight from aout on the ocean, where mebbe a steamer is alyin' anchored, an' loadin' its cargo o' contraband on fast blockade runners that come 'longside; also sky-carriers in the bargain, sech as drop daown close by on the sea, an' take on all they kin carry." the faint sounds rapidly increased in vigor until even a novice could have decided it was an airplane making almost directly toward their strange camp on black water bayou. "keep on listening, brother," advised jack; "and then we'll compare notes as to where we heard the last clatter. things couldn't be working more smoothly to suit our plans; and we ought to be pretty well primed by the time we come back here to join up with friend jethro." finally the now loud clatter ceased, which those airmen knew full well meant it had succeeded in effecting an apparently safe landing, whether on land or water they could only surmise. so carefully had they both tried to get the exact locality fixed in their minds that when they came to comparing ideas it was found they agreed almost to a dot; so jack was able by referring to his small compass to make a note of the circumstance, as well as their united conviction. "i kin shut me eyes an' see what a busy bunch is workin' unloadin' that same crate," perk observed, a little later on. "scent's agettin' a little warmer, seems like, partner, when we ketch the racket o' a smuggler plane comin' in from the mother vessel away off shore, beyond the twenty mile danger line." "i'd say it surely was," agreed jack, grinning happily, as if in answer to the joyous look he detected on his partner's sunbaked face. all had by now become as silent as the grave, at least so far as suspicious sounds undoubtedly caused by human agencies; but otherwise things did not happen to be so quiet. from the nearby swamp came a multitude of queer croakings and gurglings, accompanied by harsh cries such as night herons seeking their food, or other birds of similar activities, might make while fishing. "gee whiz!" perk at one time burst forth, "did yeou ever in all yeour life listen to sech queer sounds as them? hark to that splash--sure reckons some roostin' bird must a fallen off its perch, an' if all that flutterin' and squawkin' stands fo' anythin' its got swallowed up in the jaws o' some critter waitin' daown below fo' its supper. glory! i wonder if weuns kin get any sleep with all these heah carryin's on in full blast. jest hear 'em whoopin' it up, will yeou, suh?" however, when the time did come for them to go aboard the boat and seek their cots, by closing the cabin door much of the noise was deadened, and after all perk found little difficulty in getting to sleep. nothing occurred during the night to disturb them, or cause any undue alarm. doubtless that variegated noise kept up through the livelong period of darkness, but it gave them no concern whatever. when perk happened to wake up he believed he could catch a feeble gleam as of daylight outside the cabin; and upon investigating found it to be a fact. he thereupon aroused his companion, and another fine meal was soon in process of preparation over a resurrected fire; to which of course the pair did ample justice, after which they made ready for another flight, and a return to the city. chapter xx the mother ship when jack went over to the home of the affable mr. herriott the following night he had much to tell that gentleman, such as had a bearing on his own campaign. the other heard what he had to say, and then asked a number of pertinent questions that in their way were more or less helpful. "from all you saw and heard, my friend," the other observed later on; "i am absolutely certain you have found a bonanza, and discovered the landing place used mostly by the planes that are carrying such vast quantities of contraband from mother ships to certain central depots, where doubtless motor trucks are able to come over unknown country shell roads, and convey the same to shore cities, possibly even as far north as baltimore and washington. you are getting close to your objective, i have no hesitation in saying; i only hope it all turns out as well and profitably as your daring and skill would warrant." such words from one whom he had come to admire as a "clean shooter," as perk designated their official friend, gave jack much satisfaction. "still, there's no reason for undue haste, you know, sir," he told the other in his calm way. "while i do not want to loaf on the job, at the same time i am against trying to push things to a decision, if by so doing i must take unnecessary chances." "quite right, too, mr. er, warrington," he was told. "it would have been much better for several of your fellows who worked on this affair if they had possessed a share of your caution; two in particular showed signs of getting somewhere but in seeking to make a swoop before the time was fully ripe they queered the whole game, and fell down on the job. i would be willing to prophesy that such will not be the result of your planning." "there was one subject about which i'd be glad to hear something further, mr. herriott," jack went on to mention. "you have only to let me know what it is, and any knowledge i happen to possess in regard to the matter is at your service. now tell me how i can give you any further assistance,--jack." "it's about that cracker guide who's agreed to take us to the secret landing-place of the mob--jethro hicks. do you feel the utmost confidence in his honesty, sir? you can easily understand why i ask, since if it turned out that he himself was in the hire of this gang of law-breakers, things would turn out badly for myself and my friend." "let me reassure you on that score then," came the immediate answer; "i am positively certain jethro will be found as true as steel. i know this from a number of reasons. first of all, i've been acquainted with the man for some years now, and i think i'm safe in saying that he thinks considerable of me as a staunch friend. i had an opportunity once upon a time, to do him a favor, when it seemed as though the whole world had turned against him, and kept him a fugitive from the law, hiding in the swamps and backwoods for some years; and he will never forget the little i was able to do for his family then. that is one reason why he has so greedily taken me up when i asked him to work hand in glove with you." "yet you say he had broken the law--was hiding from arrest apparently--hardly a fact to commend him as an honest man, sir, i'd think." "but jethro was entirely innocent in that nasty affair, as was later on proven without a doubt; he is now walking openly, and without a fear of arrest. on that same fact hangs his chief desire to help you break up this powerful gang of smugglers infesting the seaboard of our state." "how come, mr. herriott?" questioned the surprised as well as deeply interested jack. "listen, and you will, i am sure, understand what i mean," continued the other. "some years ago there was a sort of mountain vendetta existing between the hicks family and two other households in the same neighborhood. it had gone on for a good many years, with occasional outbursts, and some shooting. later on it came about that one particular man named haddock made considerable money since prohibition came in; and still hating the name of hicks found an opportunity to accuse jethro of certain things, building up false evidence on which the young head of a family would undoubtedly have been sent to the pen if he had not hidden out in the swamps. while there this rich man also persecuted his family, and protected by his money could do this without hindrance. "jethro has never forgotten or forgiven those wrongs; and yet unlike many of his class, he does not wish to shoot his hated enemy down in cold blood. but it is more than suspected that john haddock is one of the rich men backing up this big syndicate, for it would come directly in line with the way he managed to accumulate his own fortune in a less extensive way, merely with mountain dew as his stock in trade. "jethro swore to me he knew this to be a _fact_, although he could hardly hope to prove the same unless given an opportunity to raid their headquarters and find positive evidence there. "now you will understand just why he can be depended on--jethro is no law-breaker, and his fierce hatred for john haddock--all the haddock tribe in fact--will make him a faithful assistant for such as you. are you satisfied now, jack?" "unquestionably so, sir; and i thank you very much for telling me this. i'll have a better opinion of jethro, and feel a sympathy for him in his desire to get even with this rich schemer through whom he has suffered so much." more of this confidential talk was indulged in, with jack fortifying such conclusions as he had already reached. and when he got back to the hotel room, to find perk sitting up, reading, but eager to know if anything worth while had happened, he proceeded to further astonish his best pal by giving a verbatim rendering of every item spoken by the united states representative. "so you see, brother, how well we are progressing," he concluded by saying; "and with such an eager helper as this same jethro promises to prove, it looks as if something unexpected was going to strike that powerful illegal combine of smugglers at an early date--don't you feel that way too?" "shore i do, partner, an' here's hopin' it aint agoin' to be so very long naow 'fore we get in aour fust crack. i'm near wild to knock one o' them smugglers' first aid ships to smithereens, with a nice baby bomb i got hid away aboard aour dandy amphibian cruiser." "your hour will strike in due time, wally, boy," said the amused jack, with a fond look at the excited face of his chum. "you've never completely gotten over your boyish ways, brother--anything in the line of excitement, and you fairly itch to be up and doing. i am free to confess, however, that when you _do_ get into a ruction you know how to give a good account of yourself." "thanks, ole hoss, comin' from sech as yeou that's the highest kind o' praise i could ever expect. i sometimes reckon i must abeen in at least one squabble 'fore i was hardly able to toddle 'raound, it comes so nat'ral to me." on the following morning their regular routine was again taken up. they flew up the coast, and turned out to sea, jack wishing to learn whether there was a mother ship lying off the coast, from which all manner of prohibited articles, from aliens, precious stones, narcotics and in great quantity the finest of foreign strong drink, down to the smallest things that had an intrinsic value, were secretly imported into the states minus the heavy duty imposed on their coming. once again his hunch proved a true one, for they discovered a squat steamer hovering about twenty-five miles from the coast, with several fast smuggling power-boats alongside; and as perk reported, a number of men passing weighty sacks over the side of the larger craft. "no need of our going any closer, partner," jack announced, as he banked sharply, and turned the nose of their boat toward the north. "we'll just knock around for a spell, to experience the sensation of slipping along above the great salty sea, something neither of us have had much experience in doing; and in good time we can pass on down again, so as to cover the ground where we expect to get in our heavy work." which same they did, to their own satisfaction; and much to jack's surprise to also discover a second large foreign ship apparently also laden to the gunwales with piles of goods in suspicious looking gunny sacks. "it seems as though it might be high time something was being done to cut this traffic into ribbons, don't you think, wally, boy?" jack asked, as again he made a steep bank, this time heading into the west, toward the distant streak of land which told of the coast of virginia. they struck out for shore, passed as far inland as jack considered tactful, and through his clever work in piloting the airship actually passed directly over black water bayou. chapter xxi a motor-truck caravan "i say, buddy!" they were bobbing in and out of the fleecy drift clouds, just as that other ship had done, almost indistinguishable from the ground, being about two miles up, when jack thus called out. perk had been taking account as to the amount of fuel yet remaining in their tanks, and was amusing himself doing some sort of calculation with a stub of a pencil and a pad of paper. "yeah! what is it, boss?" he sang out, looking over to where his mate sat at the stick, with the exhaust racket of both motors cut-off effectually. "we're just whiffing over that delightful little ghostly bayou you fell in love with; and heading so as to pass above the region from which we heard that unseen ship settle down." "i reckoned that was so, partner; go ahead an' say what's on yeour mind." "there's one thing that so far has escaped our scrutiny," spoke up the pilot, with perk quickly adding: "meanin', i reckons, suh, we aint seen nary a sign o' any sorter vehicle sech as mout be atakin' the stuff to market--is that so, suh?" "good guess, all right, for you, wally, boy," replied jack. "pick up your glasses again, and keep an eye on the ground down below. if by good luck you light on anything suspicious, let me know; because i want to see for myself, as it might help me figure out certain things worth while." "ay! ay! cap; here goes!" perk told him, suiting the action to the words with the greatest eagerness. jack loitered somewhat, not wishing to skip over that prospective battlefield too speedily, lest it fail to reveal some of its most valuable secrets; accordingly he circled while still sticking to the cloud screen, now in and out like a fluttering butterfly amidst the thistle blooms of an old quarry. their aerial steed could not be seen from the far distant surface of the earth, unless one chanced to have a very powerful pair of binoculars similar to the beautiful ones perk was just then handling--the government at least was a generous employer, since the question of price never entered into the purchase of such instruments as were necessary. suddenly perk let out a loud crow. "gimme the stick, gov'nor!" he called out, shoving in behind his mate. "aplenty in sight right naow, i'd say, if yeou asked me. jest peek yeour eye on that ere stretch o' marsh, i take the same to be, clost alongside yonder stretch o' pine woods--must be some sorter corduroy road built through the muck, screened mostly by cypress trees covered with a heap o' trapsin' moss." "i've got it, partner--just as you're saying in the bargain, a corduroy road made of logs laid parallel, and looking a bit new as if it had only been constructed lately, for some special purpose." "see anythin' amovin', boss?" continued the excited perk, eagerly. "not yet," he was told; "but whatever you saw may be hidden behind some patch of dense timber at the moment. ha!" "ketched 'em jest then, did yeou?" "one--two--three motor-trucks in a line, close to each other, and making fair time over that bumpy log-road, considering that they seem to be heavily laden with something covered by dirty tarpaulins." "somethin'--huh! weuns ought to know what kinder stuff, eh, partner?" laughed perk, jubilantly enough. "keep circling around, using these hazy clouds for a screen, whenever possible, brother," urged jack. "i want to get an eyeful of this same picture, because it's going to give me the one thing that was lacking--a knowledge of the way they get the stuff out of such a boggy country without being detected by sharp-eyed revenue men." "but say, boss, didn't we make up aour minds they might have a bunch o' landin'-places, so's to switch aroun' when things begun to get too hot at any one roost?" "yes, and i still believe that way," jack told him, his eyes continuing to be glued to his glasses, as though what he saw fairly fascinated him; "but just the same, they could make use of one main road out of the swamp country." so he kept close tabs until eventually the line of heavily laden trucks had passed from his sight. "you can pick up the course to charleston now, buddy," he told the acting pilot. "i've seen that those trucks are heading north by nor-west, and chances are they mean to make baltimore before they halt for good; though like as not they may have a half-way station for stopping over during part of a day, so as to cover the last and most risky section of their long run by darkness, or moonlight." "an' partner," perk blurted out, as he relinquished the stick to the masterhand of his mate, "do yeou know they's somethin' that's been abotherin' me right smart." "as what, buddy?" asked the other, keeping up his run among the friendly screen of fleecy clouds. "things they seem to come an' go with these here smuggler lads like everything might be part o' a well greased machine--never a click, er a squeak, but movin' 'long with hardly a missfire--jest haowever _do_ they fix it--how kin they know near to the minute when a cargo's acomin' to port, so's to have them trucks and men awaitin' fo' the same." "oh! that's dead easy, partner," jack sang out, as though on his part he felt little doubt. "yeah! seems to me them chaps 'way back in columbus' time said them same words arter the man as diskivered america stood a egg up on end, fust knockin' the small end, and making a rest fo' the same--anything's soft enough arter you been told haow--naow i wanter be shown." "listen then, wally, boy--there isn't the least doubt in my mind but what the gang has an excellent radio station rigged up somewhere along the coast; they can keep in constant touch both with the mother ships we saw anchored twenty miles out, and also with headquarters on shore--down where those three motor-trucks loaded up, after some speed boat ran in here last night. get it now, do you, old pal?" "gosh! seems like us boys gotter be settin' up nights fixin' traps fo' the sharp foxes, they's up to sech big stunts. sometimes i find myself wonderin' haow in sam hill weuns kin beat 'em atall at their pesky games." "well, that's what we're here to put through," jack stated, off-hand like; "and it seems that usually we do come out on top. but even if we succeed in putting their freight air ships, and fast launches out of business, this game of ours can never be called complete until we've managed to discover the location of that powerful sending radio station--and blown it sky-high in the bargain." "bully boy!" cried perk; "an' more power to aour elbow, is what i'm asayin' right naow. big boy. we _kin_ do it, an'--watch aour smoke, that's all." "i begin to think the time for our departure is getting close at hand, pal wally," jack remarked some time later, as they glimpsed the familiar smoke cloud hovering over the city ahead. "if my last talk with our good friend tonight pans out as i feel pretty certain it must, we'll figure on making our big jump some time day after tomorrow. that will give us plenty of time to get everything aboard we expect to need; for once we leave charleston we'll not be likely to see the place again in a hurry." "sure pleases me a heap, suh," perk told him, nodding his head approvingly, as though he might be some species of war-horse scenting the battle-smoke and acrid odor of burnt powder in the breeze, calling him to action. in due time the big amphibian dropped down on the field, and was hurriedly conveyed to its hangar; the two airmen hovering around for a brief time examining certain parts of their ship, to make doubly certain there was nothing amiss. jack did not intend going out on the following day, if things worked as he was now planning; they would fix up a last day program, by following which everything necessary would be carried out in the customary way of such careful adventurers as they had always proven to be. "huh! been a right full day, i'd call hit," was perk's last word, as they started back to the hotel, so as to clean up for supper; after which jack meant to keep an engagement with mr. herriott, who would be apt to have some news of importance to communicate. "taking things as they go, it certainly has, brother," jack told his "side push," as perk often called himself. "we've picked up some facts that plug the vacant holes in my scheme; and i feel confident we're getting close to the big finish." chapter xxii down to business at last when jack came back to the hotel late that night, he found perk lounging in the lobby, and keeping a watchful eye on the main entrance. "got too darned lonesome up in the den, suh," the latter explained, keeping up his character part as an employee of the rich new york sportsman, who was so well liked that he had become a sort of companion, and campmate in fact. "jest couldn't stand it any longer, an' had to come daown hyah, so's to watch the folks, an' pass the time away. gwine up right naow, suh?" "might just as well, for i'm a bit tired; and besides we have some plans to settle on before striking out for the ducking grounds day after tomorrow. got those chilled-shot shells i want to tryout, did you, wally?" "sure did, suh," answered the other, with a wide grin, knowing that this had been spoken because the hotel clerk was close by at the desk, and watching them a bit curiously. "an' i done reckoned as haow i might jest as well fotch 'long double the number o' boxes yeou-all asked me to. they sure slips away right speedy like, suh, when the birds air atradin' good." once behind the closed and locked door, jack started to explain such fresh facts as had come within the circle of his knowledge in the last chat with mr. herriott. "he will make all arrangements with jethro in the morning, so we can expect to find the man waiting at the rendezvous--black water bayou, two nights from now; for i calculate to drop down there just while the twilight holds. that is the main thing we settled; and he assured me there would absolutely be no hitch to that part of the program. when such a man as our good friend gives a promise like that you can depend on it being exactly so." "bet yeour boots that's a fack, partner," perk took occasion to add most fervently, having conceived a great liking for mr. herriott, his charming betterhalf, and the two youngsters with whom he had had such a riotous time on the occasion of his late visit. jack took some object out of his pocket, and holding it between his fingers seemed to blow softly into the same with a certain quavering inflection. the result was an odd quacking sound, several times repeated. "gosh all hemlock!" perk exclaimed, a little too loud for discretion as he himself appeared to realize, since he immediately moderated his voice as he went on to say: "if that ere aint a reg'lar duck-call i'm a rank piker. what dye know 'baout that, if we didn't forgit to supply aourselves with a quacker--two on 'em in fact, one to coax the ducks within gunshot; an' tother fo' wild honkin' geese. takes yeou to think up the small but important things, ole hoss." "well, we may some day have a chance to use this call for the purpose it was intended," stated jack, handing the queer little article with the split and brass tongue crown over to hank for examination; "but i got it for quite another reason. when i put this to my lips, and give a number of loud quacks, it'll be after we're lying there on the surface of black water bayou--as a signal agreed on with jethro. you must remember he has never met us, unfortunately, and this game is too risky for any one to take chances. he'll answer my signal by six quacks in quick succession, and i'll give him another four in reply--then both will have made sure covering the identity of the other." "jest fine as silk, i'd say, suh!" perk assured him, with that look approaching adoration such as came to him most naturally, whenever his pal jack sprang some unusually neat piece of work upon him. perk tested the duck-call several times, blowing softly, so as not to cause any guest, or possibly even a spy, in an adjoining room to wonder what such a series of queer sounds could mean. "huh! been a long time, suh, since i done used one o' these contraptions," he finally advanced. "they do fotch the s'picious birds aswimmin' closer in to the stools--yeou knows i gotter to buy a bunch o' cedar decoys tomorry, 'case no shooter ever goes aout to bag ducks withaout a flock o' the same." "that's down on your list of last supplies to be picked up, i remember, wally. and when i've told you a few more things that come to me tonight we'd better turn in for a good snatch of sleep. no telling how much time we'll be spending keeping wide-awake night after night, once we embark on that part of our big game. in fact, it's possible we'll have to change things around, and do about all of our sleeping daytimes." "suits me right well, suh--so long's i gits fo' hours at a stretch, with a few halfway decent eats thrown in, i doant never kick." less than half an hour later and they were getting ready for a spell of forgetfulness. perk, as he crawled into bed, was muttering something to the effect that there would be only one more occasion when they could treat themselves to the real luxury of a decent bed, with a fine bathroom conveniently close at hand. "but what do it matter with sech a ole campaigner as _me_--anything we kin strike aint agoin' to be one-tenth as bad as when i was over in them stinkin' trenches, up to my knees in water, an' listenin' to hell broke loose all raound, with the heinies throwing shiploads o' shells, an' other devilish explosives--awful pizen gas in the bargain, every-which way--i ain't complainin' o' anything after what happened to me there, no siree, i aint." in the morning they took a leisurely breakfast, and then separated, each of them having a complete list of certain necessary things that had to be attended to. jack had declared it his intention to take-off around midday, for they could once more follow the course now becoming quite familiar--passing out to sea, and from a great height learning whether a mother-ship lay off the coast, with fast speedboats tied up alongside, taking on cargoes--although no attempt would be made looking to coming in to the mouth of some estuary, up which they meant to push under cover of darkness. only one thing could keep them from making their start as planned, and this would be a bad weather report covering the coastal region from brunswick, georgia all the way past hatteras, to the mouth of the delaware. optimistic jack, however, was hoping for the best, since as far as he could see no bad weather appeared on the latest report from headquarters, as given in the charleston papers. much was accomplished during the morning, and both of them brought back various packages that were to be carried in their bags to the field, at the time of taking off. "you looked after those decoys, i expect, brother?" jack queried, as they sat at the lunch table, enjoying all manner of good things appealing to their sound appetites. "better b'lieve i did that same, buddy," the other assured him; "an' a mighty likely lookin' bunch o' stools i picked up. they're sendin' the same to the aviation grounds this afternoon; an' i'm meanin' to run aout so's to stow the wooden ducks away aboard aour ship. i'd give somethin' for a chanct to shoot over them same decoys, yes suh, i sure would." "perhaps fortune will be kind to us, and you may yet have that pleasure, pal wally. no telling but what we may be ordered to hang out around this part of the coast for some time after we've done our job to the queen's taste; and to tell you the truth i'd enjoy a little shooting myself." the afternoon passed, and when the sun sank low in the west, with their coming together again at the hotel, never a single item on either list had been neglected. in the morning jack walked around to the post-office where the latest weather reports could be found, to see if they corresponded with the rosy promises the morning papers contained. he assured perk on returning that they need have no fears about making the start as scheduled; so that perk found his cup of happiness full to the brim, and even running over. they took an early lunch and then went out to the aviation grounds in a taxi as usual. before their ship was trundled out to be set for a start they saw that everything was aboard, and safely stowed away, from the cumbersome decoy flock to the last thing in "chow," as selected by capable perk, about as good a judge with regard to food supplies as could be run across in a day's search. the manager of the aviation field himself was out to shake hands, and give them a parting good-bye. jack, seeing the smile accompanying the words and hearty handclasp, had a faint suspicion that possibly the affable gentleman had guessed something like the truth; but just the same he felt it would never go any further, if he could read good southern faith in a human's eyes. chapter xxiii at the rendezvous the big amphibian, well loaded down, made a creditable take-off, and they were soon mounting up toward cloudland. as on the previous occasion there chanced to be a never ending flock of beautiful white fleecy clouds passing along, with the sun shining most of the time, since the banks of vapor were "light-weight," as perk poetically described them. looking back perk took his last view of charleston, a bit regretfully, since the quaint aspects of the city, connected with oldtime buildings, and other agreeable sights, had somehow gripped his heart. jack again soon headed off the coast, it being his intention, if the conditions were at all favorable, to drop down on the sea, and float there, waiting until the afternoon was well advanced before heading in to the shore. after they had passed for many miles up the coast he picked out a spot--after being warned by the lookout that there were two large vessels standing off beyond the twenty-mile line, undoubtedly mother-ships loaded down with fresh supplies of contraband--where they could lie upon the surface of the water undetected by any one passing far above, or at such a distance away as the foreign ships appeared to lie. jack could not remember having ever known the restless atlantic to remain almost perfectly calm for such a long stretch of time--he felt like taking it as a favorable sign concerning the carrying out of their individual great plan--even the elements were apparently in league to render them assistance, which he took it to be most kind and reassuring on their part. along about three in the afternoon perk, again searching everywhere for some sort of discovery, announced that he had picked out a plane ducking in and out of the white battalions of clouds still passing overhead. "seems like she might be acomin' from that quarter where we got aour hunch the landin' field o' their airships must lie," he went on to say, as though his mind was made up along those lines. "reckon as haow they caint pick weuns off daown hyah, suh, seein' aour wings air abaout the same color as the sea all 'raound this same spot." "not the least chance of such a thing, partner," jack assured him; "i had them colored that way purposely, seeing that we'd be likely to squat down this way when spying on the mother ship further out--not even if they have binoculars aboard, which they undoubtedly must, could any one make us out. heading for that foreign steamship, isn't that cloud chaser?" "straight away, suh, as sure as shootin'. course they reckon on loadin' up with somethin' that's aboard, an' wants to git ashore the wust kind--mebbe a bunch o' chinks it might be; or else some sorter stuff like high-toned laces, cape diamonds, or sech expensive big things as allers come in small packages." "at any rate," jack went on to mention, "they are heading for one of those two foreign boats further out. you say there were several speed boats and launches fast to the sides of the big freighters, when you glimpsed them? strikes me things are breaking about right for our making a start in the big racket tonight--of course depending on jethro's bobbing up all serene." perk followed the course of the airship dipping in and out of the cloud belt, and after quite some time had elapsed made his announcement. "they sure is acomin' daown ashootin', big boss. reckons as haow there must be a good hand at that ere stick, a lad as knows his business okay--there, he's flattened aout, an' takes things some easier, seein' as haow the ship's ready to make contact with the sea. aint this a reg'lar picnic o' a time, when weuns kin jest lay here like a gull afloatin' on the water, an' see haow them smugglin' devils work things. little do they suspect that there's sumpin' hangin' heavy over ther heads, an' liable to crash any ole minit from naow on." it was by now getting close to the time jack figured on making a start. he planned on taking a leaf from the routine methods brought into service by the expert pilots manning the illegal air carriers, passing in and out from mother ship to their secret landing place--by making a high ceiling, and depend on a curtain of lofty clouds to effectually screen their presence while hopping over the danger zone. "time we skipped out of this," he told perk, who emitted a muffled roar which was possibly meant to be an expression akin to applause. the waves were picking up somewhat in the bargain, which may have been one of the reasons why the ever cautious jack wanted to get moving: he did not have any particular yearning for a headlong dash amidst rolling billows, such as might cause considerable trouble, even bring risk in their train should they find themselves compelled to make the venture. however, they made the ascent without great trouble, even if there was a certain amount of splashing done. perk looked pleased when the ship arose from its salt water contact, and began climbing at a steady pace. jack held out for some little time as though meaning to pass inshore far to the north of the point he was really aiming to attain; this he did to hoodwink any one who might chance to see them through strong glasses, and feel a little curious to know who they were, also, what their object could be in carrying on after such a fashion. eventually he turned more into the west; then, after passing over the shore line, faced due southwest, and sped on. finally when perk warned them they were approaching their proposed landing-place jack brought his charge lower until presently, as evening drew on apace, they could be seen sweeping along not five hundred feet above the tops of the tall cypress trees with their queer festoons of trailing spanish moss. then came a glimpse of black water bayou, bordered by the mysterious gloomy looking swamp, from whence had come all those uncouth sounds on the occasion of their stopover some time previously. "huh! mebbe we'll git right 'customed to them awful noises," perk was assuring himself, as their pontoons glided along the smooth surface of the lonely lagoon, and the boat headed directly toward that artificial curtain behind which they had previously pocketed their "windjammer," or as perk sometimes called their craft the "crocodile"--partly because, as he affirmed, such a reptile was the only real amphibian, able to negotiate both land and water in turn, and feeling at home in both. "so far, okay," he observed, softly, after the boat had come to a stop, close to that friendly ambush where they could readily hide their craft should they choose to start forth with jethro aboard his smaller ducking powerboat; "an' naow let's on'y hope the gink shows up on time." "i wouldn't speak of jethro in that sort of way, buddy," remonstrated jack. "it's true he is a southern cracker, without much education; but that i'd call his misfortune and not his fault. mr. herriott says he's a chap with considerable principle, and his one weakness is about the wrongs this bunch of men have done him and his family. he is ready to encounter every risk if only he can show them up, cripple their big business, and possibly send some of the lot to atlanta for a term of years." "i get yeou, partner," said perk, contritely; "shore didn't mean anything by sayin' what i did; an' i'll be glad to shake jethro's flipper whensoever we meet." "i knew you'd feel that way, wally; and it may not be a great many minutes before the chance comes along." "meanin', i take it, boss, he orter show up right soon?" demanded the other. "this is the rendezvous place you know, where we agreed to wait for him," explained jack; "he, may be a bit late getting up here, for his boat is an old one; though mr. herriott did tell me he himself had had it fixed up some, to work a lot smoother--uncle sam stood the racket, too; and you know when _he_ foots a bill nothing is too good to be utilized. we may be surprised when we see that same dinky powerboat." "as haow, partner?" queried perk, his curiosity aroused immediately. "wait and see, brother," jack told him, tantalizingly. "our first duty right now is to poke the nose of our airship back of this dandy natural curtain, where it just couldn't be seen, unless a close search was being made, our plans possibly having been given away. that couldn't happen in a coon's age, we've been so cautious, so secretive, and made no confidents except mr. herriott--and through him necessarily jethro. take hold, and help me swing her along back of the trailing moss and vines." when this had been effected jack again whispered: "listen while i give the signal, partner; if by any chance hostile ears were to catch the quacking of a duck, it could hardly excite the slightest notice; for such a sound often breaks out in the darkness of night down here, since a duck on the water acts as sentry to the sleeping flock. here goes, then:" chapter xxiv perk rides in the ghost boat "quack--quack--quack--quack!" perk chuckled at the clever way jack imitated the outcry of a startled feathered pilgrim from the far north--old shooter as he was, perk felt confident he himself would have been deceived did he not know whence the sounds proceeded. he listened intently, hoping they might not be disappointed in their expectations. there came an answering call from a point close by--it gave perk a positive thrill--then jethro must have already arrived, spurred on by his burning desire to pay his debt of hatred long since over due. jack waited a dozen seconds, after which he again sent out his call, repeating the first one exactly--four quacks. "gee whiz! somepin's amovin' over yonder, matey!" whispered the excited perk, as they peered through openings in the leafy curtain by which the airship was so deftly concealed. "i see it," answered jack, also feeling a thrill of satisfaction, in that their great scheme gave positive indications of being about to start off with a bang. "it's some sort of boat okay--too dark yet to tell just what shape the same may be. there, it's coming out of hiding now." "an' a powerboat in the bargain--jethro's crate, i shore reckons; but hot-diggetty-dig! see haow fast she's a headin' thisaway, yet yeou caint ketch even a ripple, or hear the exhaust one teeny bit. a ghost boat, i'd call her, partner, blamed if i wouldn't." jack chuckled as if amused. "mr. herriott put me wise about that," he explained, softly. "it's one of the big improvements uncle sam brought about in that old craft, in order that it could do the work so much better--and safer. you see, the overboard motor that's been installed in place of the old one is up-to-date, and has its exhaust away down deep, so it can swing along without any of the racket most power-boats kick up. it's used a great deal by fishermen, who troll for game-fish, and would expect but scant captures if their boat kept spluttering away as the old type used to do. get that now, wally?" "jest what i do, ole pal; an' say, aint it won-der-ful what things they're inventin' these days--talk 'bout there bein' nawthin' new under the sun, why, hardly a day slips past that we doant hear or read 'baout stunnin' discoveries. that certain is a happy thought. but here he is, clost to us, pard." "hello! thar!" came in a low, discreet voice, as the oncoming boat slowed up by degrees. "it's okay, jethro--we're on hand as promised!" as jack said this the other gave a low laugh, as though greatly pleased to find his new employer so prompt, and evidently a man of his word. he was soon leaning from his seat in the cockpit of his ancient powerboat, (in which he had for some years been engaged taking parties out from charleston for their fishing, or shooting) and grasping first the extended hand of eager perk, then that of jack ralston. he had been put wise as to their real identity, but warned to meet them under their assumed names, so as to ward off any possible risk of discovery. so it was he lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper as he spoke after the handshake. "ah 'low as how yuh reckoned ah mout be some slow agittin' hyah, suh; but since they fixed up my ole dickey boat, she shore do step along like smoke." "glad to know that, jethro," said jack, to whom the other had turned as if readily recognizing which of the pair must be the leader of the desperate enterprize with which he had committed his fortunes so gladly. "looks like a fine night for us to make a beginning." "jest what hit is, suh; couldn't be no better, ah'd say. an' ah done reckons as how they be some big doin's goin' on over tuh the station ternight." "that sounds good to me, jethro," jack assured him. "fact is, i'm beginning to believe the fates are working in our favor right along, from the way things keep happening. now i'm going to put the work in your hands as far as getting us in touch with these parties goes." "i kinder figgered as how yuh'd do thet same, suh," said the confident jethro, "seein' as how i knows the ground like er book. i aint agoin' tuh let yuh down, suh, bet yuh boots i aint." perk had not tried to break into this brief confab; truth to tell he was engaged just then in keeping "tabs" on jethro's manner of speech, so as to determine how close to the real thing he himself had come when trying to play the part of a genuine birmingham son of dixie. "how are we going to start this racket?" questioned jack. "all get in your boat, and close in on the working station, so we can see with our own eyes just what sort of a show they're putting up." "them's ther ticket, suh," he was promptly told, showing that the guide had formed some sort of a general plan of campaign. "i be'n right up agin the level groun' whar them airships land, an' watched what was happenin' lots o' times. 'taint no great shakes agittin' clost tuh thet workin' bunch, 'case they don't reckon they's a single stranger inside o' ten mile. they'd shore skun me alive if they'd run ontuh me; but i knowed my beans, an' how tuh fool ther best o' 'em." jack liked the way the other talked--it showed that jethro had considerable self-confidence; also that the consuming passion running like hot lava through his veins was not apt to warp his judgment in the least. he could be depended on to keep fairly cool and discreet under any trying condition; and should matters ever come to a showdown, such a man would fight like a south carolina wildcat, of that jack also felt assured. "then we'll leave the ship concealed here back of this screen, and climb aboard with you, jethro," jack told him. "i put it up to you to say when we ought to make a start." "right away'd be ther right thing ter do, suh," came the answer; after both jack and perk had changed to the reconditioned powerboat. "yuh see, it's sum way tuh go, the river's so crooked in places; so i kalc'late things they'll be fair hummin' by ther time we gits thar." "just as you say, jethro; but perhaps we ought to take certain things with us--no telling just how soon we might find a use for the same. wally, climb back, and pass them over to me--you know what i mentioned i'd like to have along." evidently perk had committed the list to memory, for he handed the articles over in rapid succession--guns, along with other things that must have been a rank mystery to the staring jethro, though he made no remark. "that's all, big boss," observed perk, once more changing to the powerboat, and the seat he had just started to warm up. not the ghost of a sound of passing vapor came to perk's strained ears as the boat picked up a certain amount of speed, heading directly for the near-by river, which jack had called the yamasaw. perk could hardly believe there could be such a thing as throttling the noisy clamor he had always associated with the passage of a motorboat, usually heard over the water from a distance of several miles. truly the wizards must be hard at work these days, performing near-miracles right and left--first the aircraft's noisy discharge conquered; and now the humble powerboat reduced to absolute submission. jack quickly noticed that jethro was making no great attempt to force his smoothly working new engine. he could conceive of several good reasons for this caution--in the first place there was no need for haste; then again they would be going with the rapid current while descending the crooked stream; and last of all he could readily understand how there might be a variety of obstacles here and there, blocking their passage--logs, and huge boulders, which would surely cause the boat to founder, should they crash against some snag head-on. on the return journey, whenever they chose to come back, the case must be different, since they would have the current to buck against, and necessarily much more power would be called upon to make decent progress. however, jack was not figuring as to just when that retrograde movement would come about--perk had handed over a variety of things they would require if they chose to linger for a day and another night at least, even to some "eats"--catch perk neglecting _that_ part of the supplies--not if he was in his sane mind, he had told himself with unction. well, here they were gliding along down the river, just as perk had so many times vividly pictured in his mind, with darkness all around them, and only jethro's intimate knowledge of the intricacies of the stream, and its various outjutting snags, standing between themselves and a cold bath. perk thrilled with deepest satisfaction. from this time on he felt assured all sorts of exciting happenings would be the order of the day or night; and no longer would he feel bored by inaction. the war against the desperate smuggler gang was on, and the outcome could not possibly be delayed much longer than forty-eight hours, he felt confident. half an hour and more had now passed since their start on the inland voyage, and several times they found the angry water foaming up around them as if eager to drag the adventurous voyagers down into its unknown depths. but always jethro maintained a perfect grasp on the situation, parrying this rock, and that snag, as though he possessed the eyes of a cat. it was simply amazing how he managed, and perk found himself growing deeper and deeper wrapped up in sincere admiration for one who could display such wonderful skill, such fearless handling of a frail boat in all that turgid, leaping water. finally jethro began to slow up, and the others knew from this that evidently they must be drawing close to the place for which they were aiming. yes, several times when it happened the water was more calm, perk felt positive he caught the faint sound of human voices, as though reckless men might be making merry with some sort of liquid refreshment that loosened their tongues, and made them feel unusually jolly. so, too, did he glimpse signs of growing light, and figured that doubtless fires might be burning, with supper cooking. fed up with a desire to set eyes on what lay so close by, perk counted the minutes as the boat continued to move smoothly along. finally he found that jethro was propelling it by hand, the noiseless engine having stopped its pulsations; and a minute later they lay back of a screen formed of hanging spanish moss and clinging vines, quite as effectual so far as concealment went as the curtain hiding the airship. "git out hyah, suh;" whispered jethro in jack's ear; "rest o' ther way we gotter tuh go afoot." chapter xxv a well oiled machine one thing in particular jack had noticed--this was the fact that shortly before this stop had been made they had left the main stream, and pushed up some smaller subsidiary, although the water seemed to be quite deep. he had found it easy to understand just how speedboats, loaded down to the gunnels with sacks of contraband, were able to come up from the mouth of the yamasaw, and make their passage safe by means of searchlights on board for that particular purpose--since they must invariably choose the night for making their depot, and eluding such searching coast patrol revenue cutters as were on duty in those shore waters. it made jack smile to think how in turn he was heading a swift patrol of the air, inaugurated to sweep this audacious combine from the sea, and break up the powerful syndicate so long defying the government. "it's now got down to brass tacks," he was telling himself, as with perk at his side he carefully followed at the heels of the crawling cracker guide; "and a case of dog eat dog, as perk would call it; so i only hope our canine will act the part of a german police, or shepherd dog, and eat up the other beast, that's all." the closer they drew to the camp of the smugglers the more jethro drew upon his education as a skillful tracker and guide to avoid discovery. perk, taking occasional sly peeps, could make out a number of rough-looking men moving here and there, as though restless; and from this fact he felt confident they must be waiting for the arrival of something that had to do with their presence here in this isolated camp. yes, and presently he also discovered several huge motor trucks parked nearby, the presence of which settled the matter; for he knew positively a laden speedboat must be on the way, probably bucking against the current of the river at that identical minute. if they stood by their guns the best part of the night they might witness a transfer of the contraband from boat to truck; and, if very lucky, even pick up some information regarding the destination of the double load. when finally jethro came to a halt they were really as close to the camp as the lay of the ground on that side would permit, without taking too risky chances for discovery. perk was soon pulling at jack's sleeve as if desirous of attracting his comrade's attention. seeing that the other was so persistent jack inclined his ear as a sign for the other to only speak in the faintest possible whisper, which of course perk only too well knew was absolutely necessary. "looky--over there jest back o' thet tree, an' away from the fires--aint that some sorter crate yeou kin lamp?" "just what it is, a plane, and a whopping big one to boot," jack assured him, when he could find perk's ear. "no seaplane after all, so it can't be used for going out to the mother ship; but flies over the land, taking some sort of stuff to a certain depot--may have fetched a bunch of chinks over from cuba on its last trip. keep still, now, wally, and just watch." the time dragged on until several hours had passed since they arrived at the landing field and camp of those busy bees engaged in hoodwinking uncle sam, and all his efficient coast patrol both on sea and the land. then a throbbing sound reached their ears; at the same time they could notice how the men no longer rough-housed among themselves. on the contrary they began to gather at a small wharf built so that a boat could draw alongside, and let the cargo be transferred to the waiting trucks for further transportation. perk again touched his best pal's arm, to whisper: "boat's a kickin' up agin the current, an' gettin' nigh here," he said. "okay, but put a stopper on your tongue, matey--eyes are all we need right now--maybe ears as well, to pick up anything that's said worth while." thus crushed perk fell back, and concentrated his observation upon the stirring little night drama that would soon be moving along at full speed--a common enough event it must be, judging by the long security from interruption these reckless worthies had enjoyed. the strong glare of a large searchlight down on the waterway grew brighter continually, showing that the approaching boat must be close at hand. presently they were able to make her out, although almost dazzled by the brilliant light up in her bow, rendered necessary by the snags and rocks scattered at intervals all along the yamasaw. no sooner had the boat been warped to the dock than men flocked aboard, and began to tote the heaped-up heavy sacks ashore. there could be not the shadow of a doubt concerning the nature of their contents, for occasionally the eagerly listening trio caught the sound of flint glass striking against a similar clinking object; and when one sack seemed to accidentally come open, jack caught the sheen of the light on a serried row of bottles, all bearing foreign labels. he even saw the man carrying the same swiftly crib a bottle, and conceal it under a friendly strip of wood, as though laying by a means for conviviality at a later hour. taken in all it was a rather tempting spectacle for a pair of secret service bloodhounds to find spread out before their admiring eyes. jack was priming his ears so as to catch any careless words spoken by these men landing the cargo fetched from one of those mother ships standing by off the shore. even a name spoken would be treasured in hopes of it eventually turning the scrutiny of uncle sam's vigilant enforcers of the revenue laws upon some party, who thus far had never once been suspected as allied with this formidable conspiracy. it did not take very long for the numerous workers to clear the decks and hold of the numerous staunch burlap sacks, each of which must have held possibly a full dozen quart bottles. some four stout men, apparently the crews of the two big motortrucks, kept busy loading the stuff aboard their cars. evidently they meant to cover the entire load under some hay that was heaped up close by, possibly fetched for this very purpose, the whole being well tucked down under a dingy looking but stout tarpaulin that could be roped securely by expert hands. yes, it was certainly all very interesting, and instructive as well, but then the three watchers were no novices, all of them having witnessed similar sights many times in the past. at least jack had reason to believe certain things that floated to his ears,--mostly names being mentioned by some of the talkative workers--might prove strong clues, that, being followed up to their logical conclusion, would bring interesting developments later on. this encouraged him very much, as he realized he was now in a position to reap some sort of harvest to pay for the hard work he had been putting in. now that the speed boat had been cleared of its heavy load there were movements aboard looking to a departure. it being already past midnight perhaps the master of the blockade runner--having been duly posted through some obscure means--knew just about where the government vessel from which he had the most to fear would be cruising at that hour; and figured it would be a wise move on his part to gain the high seas as soon as convenient. perk saw these actions with falling spirits--he had been so sure jack meant to begin operations without any delay that to thus let that swift contraband runner get away unscathed was really too bad. so he had to crouch there behind the network of bushes, and see the vessel back away from the rough-looking dock, swing around in the narrow but deep creek, and then disappear down-stream, the light of its glowing reflector gradually dying out as it drew farther away. "huh! nawthin' doin' seems like," perk was telling himself in bitter disappointment. "i'd a given a heap jest to slip one o' my bally time-bombs aboard that ere craft, so she'd bust into flames when far away down the river; but jack, he doant seem ready to hit the fust crack." next the two laden trucks pulled out, and could be heard bumping along the road, to take their chances of getting through without being stopped by either high-jackers or revenue men. "makin' straight fo' that same corduroy road as runs plumb through the marsh; an' headin' due north, too," perk further told himself, seeing that evidently trying to talk with his chum was taboo for the time being, "goin' up to baltimore, i reckon, whar they got a big taste fo' strong stuff, 'specially sech as comes in from abroad--reg'lar goods, with a big kick backin' same. huh!" jack had for some little time been looking earnestly first at the nearest campfire, and then diverting his gaze, seemed to stare over to where the outlaw plane rested. it was as though it might be waiting for some particular event, when possibly it would start off, after taking aboard certain valuables that would come by another airship from some point in the west indies, evading the customs, and giving a rich bonanza to whoever was interested in thus beating the government revenue. "i say, perk," he whispered in the ear of his mate. the other must have sensed something of unusual importance coming, for he displayed considerable eagerness as he moderated his own voice to its very lowest pitch, and made answer: "on deck, suh!" "that plane--i've been noticing how it's left high and dry there," jack was saying, significantly, perk thought. "shore is, suh," the latter went on, invitingly. "i figure that any clever lad might be able to creep close to the same--coming along by that line of bushes you can notice on the side away from the fires, and the big searchlights they use when a ship is taking off at night." "easy--reg'lar snap, i'd say, suh." "i've also figured out that it wouldn't be impossible for any clever lad to creep around from here without being seen, and so get in close grips with that same plane--how?" perk lifted his head a trifle, and appeared to study the conditions, which was not at all surprising since up to that minute it had never once occurred to him there would be any call upon him for such services. "i'd be tickled pink to tackle the job, suh--jest try me!" he finally declared, and at that without even asking why such a dangerous mission should enter into the head of his superior. "can you first of all sneak back to the boat, and pick up that little bottle you filled with gasoline before we left the crocodile?" "easy as all get aout, that's right, suh." "well, make sure you've got plenty of matches that strike without making any snap," warned jack; "because we have a chance to get rid of the first outlaw airship, and so make our initial dent in the ironclad syndicate!" chapter xxvi striking out jack was able to say all he did simply because they were separated from the nearest group of men by considerable distance; moreover, the pack persisted in talking and laughing, as though absolutely free from care, doubtless filled with the belief that their lot was a most enviable one--which apparently was the case. perk kept as tight a rein on his enthusiasm as he possibly could. he understood just what a perilous mission jack was entrusting to his sole care; and how success, or failure, would depend on his ability to measure up to the confidence reposed in him. "jest where am i to meet up with yeou agin, after i finish my job, suh?" he whispered; even trying to carry out his assumed character when there was really no need for such a thing, showing how the habit was apparently getting a pretty stiff grip on perk, it would seem. "when i think it's about time for you to start things going, we'll slip away, so as to be on our road when the fun gets hot and furious; they might begin to scour the whole neighborhood if they suspected some enemy of starting the racket. so look for us where jethro's boat's hidden. hold on, partner--come to think of it, give us a bit of a signal when you're on the job--nothing to attract their attention, you understand--just hold up your red handkerchief; but don't wave it, remember. then three minutes after you've done this--get busy!" "huh! leave that to me, boss--i gotter hunch a'ready jest haow that i kin work the game. so-long!" so matter-of-fact way his leave taking, so informal, that it was plain to be seen perk must be taking things coolly; a fact that pleased his chum vastly, jack told himself as the other crept away, heading along the back trail, and making no more noise than a writhing cotton-mouth moccasin snake might have done. jack and jethro waited as the minutes crept past. the latter being advised in low whispers just what was on the bill of fare, might have been heard to chuckle to himself when he finally understood--possibly he was feeling a bit disappointed because this particular mission had not been turned over to his care; but then he must have realized that he was having a share in everything that was attempted looking to the smashing of the powerful smuggler league, which conviction would give him the degree of satisfaction he craved. jack could not see how the minutes passed--the lack of good light prevented him from calculating from what the dial of his little wrist watch marked; so, having nothing else to do he commenced counting the seconds, and mentally figuring just how far perk might have progressed. now he would probably be creeping along into the density of the heavier growth, following the sinuosities of the path jethro had led them along--later on jack decided the other half of the crocodile's crew would have arrived at the spot where jethro's powerboat was hidden back of the friendly natural screen. he gave perk a certain stretch of time to gather what he had come after; and then in his mind followed him all the way back to the vicinity of the hostile camp. for amusement jack had many a time trained his fancy along such paths as he was now following out; so that really he had become quite an expert in painting similar mind pictures. and now perk must be diligently following up his maneuvers by sneaking along on hands and knees, keeping well out of the sight of those carousing near the blazing fires. when in the nature of things jack finally concluded the other should have reached his objective, he craned his neck, and started to keep close tabs on the motionless airplane. even as he thus looked he discovered a small object that he felt sure could be nothing else than perk's dingy old bandanna, which he so often wore about his neck, cowboy fashion, when on duty aboard their crate. one minute he saw this object, and then it vanished utterly from view. well, that fact rendered his belief more certain--perk was on deck as big as life; and in three minutes more he would have struck home--it was time he and jethro were fading out of the picture--making a silent exit from the scene, and be on their way. so jack touched his companion on the arm, and began to creep off, with the other close after him. they succeeded in passing from the near vicinity of the illumination inside the appointed three minutes, after which jack listened intently as he kept moving, ready to be duly thrilled by an outbreak and commotion announcing the discovery of the blazing crate there on the sloping runway. just as he figured it all turned out--without warning loud yells and whoops rang out, telling that every man-jack in the camp must have suddenly made the tremendous discovery that their waiting plane was wrapped in fiercely devouring flames; for the gasoline which perk had so carefully scattered here and there, would make a wonderful blaze on contact with fire. jack found himself speculating how perk must have managed so as to be on his way, possibly already secure back of the dense thicket, before the fire broke out; but all that could be explained later on. he remembered what the other had said about having a "hunch"; and jack, knowing how fertile his pal was in originating bright schemes, felt certain he had been able to rise to the occasion. he found himself laughing softly as the dreadful clamor rose higher and higher. in imagination he could even see how the startled smuggler crowd must be forced to keep their distance from the costly airship that was being reduced to ashes right before their eyes, with nothing to be done about it, such was the scorching heat accompanying the holocaust. when it was all over, with nothing remaining save the useless engine of the burned plane, doubtless there would follow a perfect hurricane of surmises as to how so mysterious a fire could have started. the most reasonable conclusion naturally would be that some spark from their camp fires might have been wafted toward the airship, and, still retaining its vigor, fallen upon a tiny pool of inflammable gasoline spilled when the tank had been last replenished. let them think what they pleased, it mattered nothing to jack--the one prime object of his self congratulation lay in the fact that their initial blow had been struck, and the contraband carriers of the air reduced by one useful factor. the volume of the shouts was gradually becoming less and less; which fact must have resulted from their placing more distance between themselves and the aroused camp; also through the men ceasing to give voice to their excitement, under the conviction that there was no possible remedy for the disaster--and then again the combine, being swollen with gross profits, could stand such a loss, so easily replaced. in due time jack and jethro approached their goal. it was to be hoped they would find perk already there; or that he must show up soon after they arrived. they lay among the bushes, and waited, jack knowing perk would be apt to give a certain little sound, very like the cheep of a night bird, such as they had frequently used under similar conditions. a few minutes later sure enough he caught the expected signal, which, upon being immediately answered brought a stooping figure reeling into view. jack hastened to reach for his chum's right hand which he wrung with considerable unction. "good old perk--you filled the bill okay, i'm telling you, my pal! that's one ship less for them to use in their business--we've made a small dent in their armor, and let's hope there's plenty more still coming to them." perk, though breathing hard, was also emitting queer sounds that announced his feeling of complete satisfaction. jethro also insisted on giving him a generous handshake, to let him know how tickled he felt over seeing those he hated so fiercely meet with their first loss. "gosh all hemlock! but things did work smooth, let me tell you-all," perk finally gasped, unable to repress his exultant feelings any longer, despite his lack of wind. "say, she whooped things up right stunnin', when the slow match it got its work in--i'd say she did fellers!" "slow-match, did you say, brother?" asked jack, having been given a hint on catching that significant word. "shore thing, ole hoss," perk told him, in high glee. "i amused myself while we was in that charleston hotel, amakin' up a lit twister i calc'lated might pan aout okay; an' she certain did me proud--took most two minutes fo' the spark to creep 'long an' touch things off. whoopee! didn't them bimbos kick up a reg'lar jamboree though, when the hull ship started in one big nest o' fire--nawthin' like a nice sprinklin' o' gas to make things hum." "shake hands again, wally, boy--it takes a cracker-jack like you to think up big things," and jack acted as though he took more genuine pleasure in having perk make such a "bulls-eye" than if he had occupied the spot-light himself. they dropped into the cockpit of the old but rejuvenated powerboat and were soon on their way back to the secreted airship. fortunately they ran across nothing hostile while carefully following the channel of the tortuous river; had another speedboat laden with contraband come along back of them they might have been hard put to hide, since the oncoming craft would of necessity be using a searchlight, so as to buck the villainous current, as well as avoid snags, and half hidden rocks. jack was ready to give full credit to jethro for his wonderful success in locating every such obstacle; once or twice they did happen to run softly up against a submerged tree-trunk; but the pilot had acute hearing, and sensed the fact that they were approaching such a dangerous snag; for he always reduced their speed, and the collision did no harm whatever. it took them double the time to get back to their hiding-place as when going forth, all because of that swift current; but in good order they finally arrived, somewhat weary, but feeling the uplifting ardor accompanying a perilous mission successfully carried out. now they meant to seek rest, and sleep. in the morning they would try and take things easy, having nothing to do while daylight lasted but eat, and doze, looking hopefully forward to making another such sally when darkness again covered the coast lands and waterways. perk must have been very contented with the fine showing he had made in their first assault on the enemy's lines of communication. he followed the example of his chum, lying down on one of the cots belonging to the cabin of the big amphibian--they had arranged blankets on the floor for jethro, after he had positively refused to take one of the cots, saying he was "used tuh knockin' around, an' takin' pot-luck when he felt sleepy"--and just before passing into dreamland himself jack heard his best pal mutter: "huh! fust blood fo' uncle sam's boys, which same is a good sign, i'd say!" chapter xxvii the luckless speedboat the night passed without anything in the nature of an alarm. once when jack chanced to wake up, he could catch the familiar pulsations of a cloud-chaser of an airship passing, at a considerable distance; and as near as he could figure, heading directly toward the rendezvous on the creek, where a descent would be made to the exact spot on which the other craft had so lately been mysteriously incinerated. "i wonder if that turns out to be our next victim," was what the listener said under his breath, as he dropped back to continue his sleep. in the morning it was deemed quite safe for perk to build a cooking fire well back of the rise, so that even though a boat should pass up or down the river curious eyes would not be apt to see anything suspicious. the air, too, was favorable, since it came from a direction to leeward of the water, which would carry such light smoke as arose from the small fire safely away. perk gave himself and two companions a very acceptable breakfast, all things considered. he was possessed of a fair amount of culinary skill; dearly loved to get up a camp meal, and satisfy the yearnings of his always empty stomach; and moreover had selected a number of such viands as would appeal to the taste of three hungry men, reduced to their own cookery. afterwards perk kept himself busy doing a number of things that had some connection with their comfort along the "grub line," as he termed it. jethro seemed content to just take things comfortably; while jack found an abundance of employment in making up his notes. this was carried out in the code language, so that if he had the hard luck to fall into the hands of the enemy they would not be able to discover what all the queer marks really stood for--without a knowledge concerning the key it would seem more or less like the silly scribbling of a child. then, too, jack allowed himself to figure out what would be the nature of their next undertaking, following out their plan for striking telling blows at everything that helped to build up the strategic working of the smuggler ring's illicit business. "it should be tried out if another of those speedboats makes shore while we're hanging around up there," he told himself, after one of these spells of deep thinking; "anything that goes to create a feeling of genuine consternation in that mob comes along our line of action. we've prepared for all those kind of little surprises, and mustn't lose any chance that drifts our way, that's absolutely certain. well, we'll wait and see what turns up to-night." at noon perk once again disappeared back of the screen of brush, vines and dense foliage, to concoct another fragrant and much relished meal. at night they would have to fare on cold stuff, as jack hesitated to risk the glow of a fire so near the river, where some sort of boat might be passing, with a chance of discovery that would spell disaster to all their pet schemes. as the afternoon moved along jack cast uneasy glances up at the sky, where openings in the heavy belt of trees allowed of a fragmentary survey. "seems a little like rain, fellows," he told his mates; whereupon both of the others took a good look, and pronounced their several opinions. jethro, jack found, proved to be one of those natural weather oracles such as may occasionally be run across among the natives in southern sections of the country; and his opinion struck both the others as sound and reasonable. he even in his quaint fashion, and in the lingo of cracker land, explained on what he based his prophecy that, while the clouds might persist there would be no rain fall inside of twelve to twenty hours; although beyond that he was not prepared to say, and felt there was a fair chance the clouds would wet things pretty well before giving way to clear skies again. "mebbe then we kin put in one more good blast 'fore we git housed up here in aour houseboat," perk advanced, as both his opinion and his secret wish. "let's hope so," jack told him, to bolster up his already drooping spirits. "anyhow, if it hasn't started to rain when we're ready to pull out to-night, it's agreed we'll not hold back on account of a little ducking." "yeou sed it, buddy," perk snapped with avidity, accompanying the words with one of his old-time grins, that told of renewed expectation of fresh achievement. so after they had partaken of some cold refreshment to stay their hunger, they completed their preparations for sallying forth to inflict further damage on the enemy, and add to their consternation by all possible measures. their course was identical with that pursued on the former occasion. it was darker than on the previous night, owing no doubt to the curtain of clouds that shut off even the friendly starlight. jethro, however, proved to be equal to his task, and as they made but comparatively slow progress down the swift running stream managed to steer his boat without colliding with the obstacles lying in wait. these bobbed up now to the right, and again to the left--seething little whirlpools, and ugly pointed rocks, but partially out of water--just as in days of old in grecian seas, mariners had to keep clear of scylla and charybdis, two monsters who threatened their craft with destruction,--the whirlpool on one hand, and a cruel-fanged monster rock on the other. they eventually reached the spot for which they aimed, and again was the powerboat screened behind that accommodating natural curtain. then, after a little delay while gathering certain things (the possession of which would save a tedious trip back to the boat, such as had been perk's portion on that other occasion) the trio began their long crawl, with the idea of locating that inviting spot from whence they could view the camp, and yet be out of sight of the rough characters making up the working force of the smugglers. to the dismay of perk there was no airship awaiting action at the spot of the previous night's blaze. evidently the one jack had heard pass over--and of which he had informed both his comrades--must have passed out again to where the mother-ship lay at anchor; or else possibly sped back to some island like the depot at bimini, where another cargo could be taken on. "but they mebbe might slip in some time to-night," perk told himself, in deadly fear that they were to have all their work for nothing, which would certainly have been too bad, and must grieve the honest fellow terribly. as for jack, he chanced to be thinking in quite a different direction. it began to grow somewhat monotonous, just lying there and listening to what hilarious jokes and slangy conversation passed between the rough hired workers, smoking and drinking alongside the comfortable fires. it was now getting along toward midnight, and they had been lying in that cramped condition for several hours. some of the men had thrown themselves down near the fires, as though to pick up some sleep; but sagacious jack noticed an air of expectation among them as a whole, which assured him they anticipated some fresh arrival, whether from the air or the river of course he could not say with certainty. presently he did notice that two of men who appeared to be leaders walked down to the crude wharf, and seemed to be changing things around as though preparing for coming shipments of contraband stuff. "i figure it's going to be a boat," he told himself on seeing this movement--"they've had word of its coming, i reckon through that powerful radio station on the coast, which we're given orders to find, and knock out of business." and a boat it proved to be, for shortly afterwards jack caught a distant sound as of an engine working; and since it did not come from above it must be moving up the stream, having some time before entered at the mouth of the yamasaw. before long they could detect the strong light that bore upstream, to show the pilot where to keep the nose of his craft. later, the speedboat was tied to the dock by a capable hawser, and the labor of taking her heavy cargo ashore began. of course there was nothing that could be done to interfere with the landing of the contraband, and its being loaded on the waiting trucks. their orders had been along different lines--they were to try and hurt the operations of the daring smuggler ring, kill it off if possible; but under no consideration risk the betrayal of their plan of campaign by trying to hinder some of the goods that were landed from reaching their far-away destinations as scheduled. jack, watching closely, soon saw the parties who manned the speedboat seemed in no particular hurry to start back down the river. having delivered their valuable load of wet goods in security, they ran no risk of being seized by a revenue cutter, or contraband-chaser, if dawn should find them close off shore. the two officers were sitting at a rough table chatting with several of the leading smugglers, and drinking something that looked like real champagne; while the balance of the crew had mingled with the campers, and seemed to be taking an hour or so off. jack having kept close tabs on all that went on felt confident there was not a single man aboard the speedboat. his hoped for opportunity was at hand, and no time must be lost. so, having previously notified his mates what he meant to attempt, he now left them, carrying some small bundle along, the nature of which perk understood very well since it was he himself who had hooked up the fire bomb with the time-clockwork that could be set for any minute necessary--and which was now arranged two hours ahead. jack soon found himself alongside the boat; and watching his chance he slipped aboard. he was not over five minutes at work, when he again appeared in the shadows alongside the rough wharf, from whence he readily made the shore. when he a little afterwards rejoined his companions the order must have been given for the crew to get aboard, as the boat was scheduled to take off, perhaps to head for charleston, or georgetown, to pick up needed supplies that were regular, and not in the contraband class. those ashore gave their allies a round of cheers before the vessel vanished down the stream--why not when they surely had not anything to fear in the line of discovery? those sneaking secret service agents had never bothered them seriously ever since the headquarters rendezvous was stationed at this hard to reach point on the twisting, turbulent yamasaw. "we'll hang out here for another hour and more," jack whispered to his two backers. "i'm hoping to pick up some more valuable points from hearing the men chaffing one another--i'd give a lot just to know where that radio sending and receiving station is located, as it would save us considerable trouble in combing the entire coast of south carolina." "yeah," perk was saying, oh! so softly--no one hearing his customary manner of speech would ever imagine he could modulate his voice so wonderfully--"an' i shore reckons we kin see the fine light that's laid aout for fo'th o' july celebration on this late fall night, jest as good up hyah as daown thar." "a heap better, wally," jack assured him. the time passed tediously to active perk. he had listened eagerly as long as the sound of the working engines of the elegant speedboat could be heard down the river; but by degrees they grew fainter, until even keen-eared perk was unable to place them. long afterwards he drew the attention of his mates to what seemed a queer illumination up in the clouded heavens toward the southeast. "huh! kinder seems like sumpin' might be agoin' on over yonder, suh," was what he said in jack's ears; "which i has a most pow'ful notion has to do with aour purty racin' boat what's more'n likely kicked her heels at many a rev'nue cutter that couldn't close in on her nohaow." "you said it that time, wally," jack assured him, feeling a little thrill himself over the probable success of his attempt at wiping out yet another of those swift air and water vehicles engaged in doing the transportation for the wholesale smugglers' combination. some of those in the camp had by this time also taken note of the tell-tale crimson stain on the low-hanging clouds, for they began to watch it in considerable surprise, as well as uneasiness. what had happened on the preceding night was only too fresh in their minds for them to forget the unaccountable nature of the disaster. "gosh! we shore got 'em guessin', partner," perk was saying, softly, after they were once more aboard the old and faithful powerboat, with cat-eyed jethro at the steering wheel, guiding the boat's destinies by sheer intuition and good hearing combined. "looks that way, brother," was the other's terse but eloquent reply. they met with no accident while on their way back to their "location," as perk sometimes referred to the hidden camp, he having been out with companies of hollywood people when making pictures demanding rural surroundings, and consequently picking up a few of their customary designations. they had just managed to get safely aboard the amphibian when the first rain-drop came down; and in less than ten minutes it was pouring; evidently nature herself was in league with jack and his allies to favor their undertakings in a friendly as well as most admirable fashion. chapter xxviii ready for another blow that rain put a damper on their plans, all right, for it kept up intermittently for many hours. to be sure, they were comfortable enough, housed in the cabin of the big amphibian, and with plenty of good "eats" at hand, as well as soft drinks in abundance--what a grand forager that same perk would make if the occasion should ever arrive where it was necessary to "live off the country," as many an invading army has found itself compelled to do. at least neither of his companions had any cause to "knock" the said perk for the least dereliction along the line of supplies--backed by abundant resources in the way of funds, supplied by a generous republic, he always found it a pleasure to lay in stock--and help make way with the same in addition, it must be confessed. when night came there was no clear spot in all the heavens--only a vast gray curtain shrouding everything in gloom. and through the night at regular intervals fresh showers arrived to further moisten things. jack knew there would be nothing doing on the following night, since, even if the persistent clouds did choose to disperse, the ground and bushes would be much too well saturated for them to think of crawling on hands or knees, or "snaking" it along on their stomachs, so close to the hostile camp--they must exercise their patience, and await yet another twenty-four hours. this long stretch of idleness was especially hard on poor perk. from the day of his birth he had always been a "doer," and no shirk; so that when compelled to just "loaf around sucking his thumbs," as he so eloquently described the situation, he felt absolutely dejected. indeed, there were times when jack had to almost use force in the effort to compel his near pal to "hold his horses," and wait for the sky to clear up. perk grumbled, and incessantly poked his head out of the cabin to ascertain if the expected break was yet in sight. so another night gathered its shades about them; but they had seen the sun go down amidst a generous flush, which welcome sign of fair weather in the offing was accepted as most promising. "hot-diggetty-dig!" perk was heard to say time and time again, as he prepared the evening meal; from which service he seemed to extract a meed of comfort; "mebbe naow i aint joyful over the chanct to be doin' somethin' once more. never could keep my head straight when things they kept agoin' ev'ry which way fo' sunday. an' i'm shore all a twist to help knock yet another ship silly--the more the merrier sez i--we gotter to pound it inter the nobs o' them ducks they caint meddle with a buzz saw owned by unc. sam, an' git away with hit. ev'rybody pull up to the table--soup's on." which it was for a fact, since he had heated up a tin of excellent vegetable concoction that helped warm them up--the continual rain having chilled the air, and made things "shivery," as perk kept saying disconsolately enough. it was a long night to every one in the little company. they had dozed so often during the last two days, that nobody felt very much like turning in; and at that slept fitfully; so that never was a dawn welcomed more heartily than daylight on the next morning. the sun soon brought a fresh cheer with it, and as there was not a single cloud in the blue skies it looked as though by evening things would have dried up in a way to please the entire trio, with an opportunity for work at hand. again did perk go over the list of things they would necessarily take along, not intending there should arise any hitch in the plan through want of forethought on his part. the start was made in complete darkness. jack found himself hoping that their luck might stay by them for another spell; and that jethro, who up to that hour had done so exceptionally well, might be able to keep up the good work. it was bound to be a bit more difficult reaching their former hiding place, for several good reasons, jack figured. in the first place the gloom that wrapped such a cloak about them would cause their guide additional trouble, in order to avoid coming into rough collision with one of those ambushing snags, or half concealed rocks. then again by this time they might expect the suspicions of their enemies must have been more or less awakened, making them more watchful, also restless. probably those at the camp rendezvous may have before then been informed concerning the mysterious burning of the speedboat carrier of contraband stuff, while on the way down the yamasaw heading for the sea. that significant fact, coupled with the destruction of the airship within hand-throw of their campfires, would surely begin to awaken certain fears to the extent that some strange series of disasters had overtaken the long run of luck they had been enjoying in landing all their precious cargoes without a single break. jack noticed how their cracker guide kept on his way at a slower speed, and he found himself mentally commending this degree of caution. evidently jethro too, was bent on making certain nothing in the line of an upset to their game could be laid at his door. just after they started the sound of a motor was clearly heard, and somehow every head was immediately lifted toward the heavens; for there could not be any difficulty in realizing the racket came from that quarter, making it clear an airship was passing by. "there she blows, mates!" perk breathed, exultantly. "things air aworkin' agin in aour favor, seems like. go it, ole boy; we got yeour number, and kin fix yeou aout right smart." "lower your voice if you must speak, wally," cautioned jack, apprehensively, since there was no knowing what the darkness concealed from their eyes. "but she's amakin' fo' that same camp, i kinder gu-reckon--aint she, boss?" continued the irrepressible perk. "to be sure," jack told him; "and now please dry up, brother." the clatter died away, from which they fancied the incoming ship must have made a successful landing. in imagination perk could vision what was taking place--the eager workers picking up whatever the pilots of the air carrier tossed out of their spacious cabin, and possibly loading the same on some waiting truck, or at least a speedy automobile, functioned by a capable chauffeur, who had interest in the stake. onward they continued, and all kept going well, from which fact jack figured that thus far the smugglers had not deemed it essential to have videttes posted along the river, in order to keep tabs on what might be going on. to himself jack was deciding that, should they be fortunate enough to make way with yet another cargo carrier on this present night, he would feel it judicious to change his base of attack, and go after that mysterious radio sending station, without which the plans of the lawless crowd would be just about "knocked on the head." "they must be depending absolutely on the information that passes between the mother ship and the shore, to shape all these successful landings," was the way he mentally put it; "and once we put the kibosh on that secret radio shop their hands will be tied; so that the regular force of coast guards, backed by the fast revenue cutters, and speedboats taken over by the government, will be able to keep things down at a low ebb." much depended on whether they would be able to accomplish a third stroke, so as to complete the perplexity, and awaken the concern of the smugglers. jack felt tolerably certain that once they had aroused a lively feeling bordering on _fear_ among those rough men, they would be apt to magnify things, and fancy that the long arm of the law was reaching out with irresistible power, to clutch them with remorseless tenacity, and start them on the road to the penitentiary at atlanta. that was his present goal--if only he might institute a reign of apprehension among them the end would be in sight--from the beginning this had taken its place in his mind as the main object of his crusade; and so it meant a great deal for them to hit again at the enemy without any further delay. arriving at the place where the powerboat was to be secreted they soon found themselves making for the vicinity of the camp, the fires of which served them as a target, such as pilots on a crooked florida river use in order to avoid pitfalls in the shape of snags along their course. when they were once more installed in their customary shelter perk saw with a feeling of vast relief that sure enough another plane was in sight. chapter xxix jethro takes a hand "lookey, jack, it's a crate 'bout like ourn--an amphibian, an' a beaut in the bargain. what great luck, oh boy!" was what perk was whispering into his chum's ear. "i see it--let up on the talk,--we've got to plan quick, for fear the ship takes off again!" jack told him, vexed because his pal seemed unable to bridle his tongue when silence was what they most needed. he could see the two men who had come with the amphibian, since they were still wearing their service togs, and helmets. they seemed to be enjoying themselves hugely with some of the occupants of the main camp; as though in a high humor because of their successful flight, and safe arrival. "what kinder ship be that, partner?" demanded the one who could not be effectually squelched. "i don't know--looks mighty like one of those new multi-motored kingbirds, with a big cabin that might hold a dozen passengers. now please hold your breath, wally, and let me _think_--we've got to work fast for they'll take off any time now." jack having already about decided on their line of action was not long in reaching a conclusion. it was to be the turn of jethro now--he had promised the other he should have his inning, under the conviction that the guide had earned a right to strike one good blow, so as to feel he had thus avenged his family wrongs at the hands of john haddock. a hurried consultation in whispers followed. then jethro backed away, with some object carefully tucked under an arm. when he was beyond the range of their limited observation jack touched perk on the arm. "we're moving our base, brother," he told him most cautiously. "jethro has only a regular bomb to set, and will have to scuttle out of that in something of a hurry. they may start a search, and come this way; so we ought to be on our way to the boat." "shucks! naow aint that jest too bad--yeou're abreakin' my heart, boss--i shore did want to see that ship smashed to flinders," whispered the chagrined perk. "we may yet--i know of another place further back, where it'd be safe for us to stop, and then hurry off after it happens." in this fashion then did jack smother the budding mutiny on perk's part; so they began their retrograde movement, with all their senses on the alert to avoid any hovering danger. from all the indications jack had already guessed the smugglers were on nettles and pins concerning the meaning of the late disasters that had struck their hitherto smooth running machine--they had been turning their heads this way and that, as if uneasy, casting frequent anxious glances toward the big and costly airship (that undoubtedly had only lately become a regular visitor at the rendezvous camp), as if tempted to believe it too might suddenly burst into flames, as though some mysterious and powerful electrical ray were at work, bringing destruction in its wake. arriving at the back refuge mentioned by observing jack, they crouched down and waited for whatever was fated to come to pass. jack himself felt a bit anxious, wondering whether it had been a wise thing to allow inexperienced jethro to handle this last hazard--what if he managed to make a mess of it in spite of his good intentions, and all the teaching he, jack, had given him? on the other hand there was always a possibility that some restless member of the gang suddenly decide to step over, and see if everything was well with the expensive addition to their air force--should such an investigator run smack up against their cracker guide in the act of setting his bomb, the result might be a premature explosion that would prove disasterous to poor jethro, even though it also destroyed the expensive ship. perk was holding his breath with eagerness, only taking an occasional gulph when it became absolutely necessary. jack, too, admitted to feeling his usually well trained nerves tingling with mingled sensations as the minutes crept on and nothing came to pass. then suddenly without the slightest warning it happened--there was a most dazzling illumination, very like a nearby flash of lightning, and accompanied by a frightful explosion that actually almost caused the two watchers to fall flat on their backs. they had a glimpse however, of a vast upheaval, as the new amphibian was cast up skyward in fragments, even the weighty motors being hurled aloft, to speedily come back to earth with dreadful force. every man in the camp had been blown off his feet, and could be seen toppling in all directions. jack clutched perk by the arm, and gave him a tug which the other understood meant they must cut for the boat with another instant's delay. the last thing they glimpsed was the various prostrate figures scrambling to their feet, and naturally hurrying forward, risking being injured by the still falling fragments of what had so recently been a beautiful sample of the very latest up-to-date cabin tri-motored passenger airship, sponsored, if jack had guessed rightly, by one of the foremost building corporations known to the world of aviation. they managed to arrive in safety at their goal, and to jack's great relief found faithful jethro awaiting their coming, full to the brim with joy over the consummation of his scheme for revenge long since over-due. the clamor from the camp was still at high ebb, men shouting all manner of exciting things, as they endeavored to recover their wits enough to try and figure out what it could all mean. once upon the river and the fugitives began to make some sort of speed. no longer did they feel any necessity for using caution, save to avoid the traps formed by those persistent snags, and other obstructions to a safe passage. no one could overtake them, thanks to the speed of the old reconstructed powerboat, as well as the skill of its pilot; and once they reached the hidingplace of their amphibian how easy for them to take to the air, leaving jethro's boat where the plane had been hidden? then for the grand climax to their adventure--finding the secret radio station, and sending it in the wake of the destroyed speedboat, also the two smuggler airships that would no longer carry contraband loads across land and water from nearby foreign islands, or mother ships anchored off the east coast. chapter xxx the wind-up--conclusion they found it easy enough to get up speed with the assistance of the current, and then take off, when a clear streak of water was reached. rising to a fair ceiling jack headed south, and the night flight was on. he let perk take over the controls before a great while, while once again he studied his charts, well marked from previous searchings. so went the long hours, with numerous turnings as the humor urged; for they were now only killing time, and waiting for the dawn to come. no sooner was it light than jack again settled down at the stick, with the ship headed toward his intended goal. he had good reason to believe his information to be correct, and that before many hours they would be able to cash in on the prospect, kill the efficiency of the outlaw radio station to do further injury, and bring the operations of the great smuggler league to a wind-up, which was all the government asked of him. nine o'clock in the morning found them on the coast, and approaching a certain wild district where no man was supposed to have his habitation--even the shanties of the spring fishermen were conspicuous by their absence--the place was so lonely, so isolated, so storm-swept, that the bravest of coast dwellers did not have the nerve to carry on their daily avocation along the line of fishing, or wild-fowl shooting, amidst such desolate surroundings. all of which had made it an ideal spot for an unregistered radio base; and jack believed his hunch was a true one when he decided he would find the end of his trail where he was now heading. a little distance back of the beach, beyond the scrub and dead grass, there had for many years been known to exist a strange looking object, almost falling in ruins now; but which at one time had been a well built tower, more or less fashioned after the type of a coast lighthouse, since it had winding stairs within, and a room at the top, from which a wonderful view of the sea could be obtained. jack knew the brief history of that queer tower--how it had been built long years back by a retired sea captain, whose heart was still faithful to his beloved salt-water; and who, desirous of dying within the sound of the breakers had spent almost his last dollar in having this peculiar tower erected, strong enough with its rocky walls to defy the elements that usually played such rough pranks along this particular stretch of shore. some people of a romantic turn of mind even said the old captain had lost his wife and daughter in a wreck close by that very part of the coast, which fact had been mainly instrumental in his carrying out his queer conceit. after all, he had really died there, being found lifeless by a party of shipwrecked men who chanced to reach land at that place, and anticipated being fed and warmed by some genial light keeper, only to discover but a dead man there. a nephew had seen to his burial, stripped the "observatory" of everything of value, and forsook all else. now the tower was a near-ruin, and in danger of toppling when some unusually severe gale swept the water over the sand ridge, and against the "castle" wall. when perk glimpsed the object of their solicitude far away jack brought his ship down on the beach, and taxied back to where he had reason to believe it would be safe from the highest tide. then they set out to stalk their intended prey, keeping far enough back so as to avoid being detected by any trained eyes from the room in the top of the dead sea captain's lone tower. by noon they had gained enough distance to be able to keep watch on the tower through means of perk's glasses. they soon discovered signs of life about the place, which fact gratified them greatly; surely no rational human being would ever take up his abode in that ramshackle affair unless he had some unusually important reason for so doing, such was its inaccessibility, and lonesome condition, there being not even duck shooting available, while the fishing must be equally _non est_. by one o'clock they were able to figure that there were just two men in the tower, which reckoning allowed the formation of a concrete plan of action. it appeared that just one of these fellows was on duty at a time, the other apparently being free to wander off, if the notion struck him. possibly, too, most of their work came along after night had set in, since business picked up at that hour. "the next time either one steps out to take a little saunter i'll follow in a roundabout way, and nab him when he isn't dreaming of danger. after i've stopped him from giving the alarm, and putting his mate on guard i'll give a signal for you lads to swing around and approach the junk-shop by keeping hidden behind that sand hill. once i get my foot on the steps leading up inside the tower it'll be all over but the shouting. soak that in, both of you boys?" which they said they would; and so jack a little later on, crept off, exercising great care as he picked up his duty to keep hidden from those lookout windows at the summit of the said tower. he managed to take up a position where it was most likely the walker would pass close by, and there he stood, sheltered from view. the chap was amazingly stunned to have something thrust him in the back, and to hear a stern voice say: "not a single word or you're a dead man! we've got the tower surrounded, even if you don't see my men; and the game is played out. you're under arrest for sending out illegal radio calls that are in the interest of coast smugglers and other criminal parties. silence now, or i'll crack you over the head." it was almost what perk would call a "picnic," things fell into their hands so easily. having bound and gagged his prisoner jack made his way back to a point close to the leaning tower, when he gave the promised signal; and was speedily joined by his two mates. after that they all three went cautiously up the winding stairs, and suddenly took the remaining radio man by surprise, by covering him with three guns, and cowing him in the bargain. realizing that the game was queered he did not dare take desperate chances by putting up any resistance; simply grinning, and holding out his hands for jack to slip the bracelets over his wrists. "now," explained jack, "the only thing we want to do is to take some of this stuff along to prove we've demolished the offending radio-sending station; after which it's up to uncle sam to see that this scotched snake doesn't show its head again along the same lines--we will have finished our job in first-class shape, and can take up something else, for to be sure there's work aplenty for us secret service lads." before this was carried out jack secured a fine picture of the old leaning coast tower, as well as its interior, showing the radio sending outfit just as they found it. this being accomplished as positive evidence that could not be successfully disputed, they put aside such material as could be readily transported in the cabin of their amphibian, and then sent the racketty tower high up in the air, to fall in fragments on the beach. after that all of them boarded the ship, and they set out for charleston, to drop jethro--who would sooner or later hear from the two chums, as well as receive a fat reward for the part he had taken in rounding up the smuggler gang, and putting that mischievous radio out of the running--also turning over the two prisoners to the care of mr. herriott, as representative of the legal branch of the government. what became of them jack and perk neither knew nor cared, as other equally thrilling happenings soon came along to occupy their time and attention, to the exclusion of matters that were now "has-beens," hull down in the past. they first of all turned over that admirable amphibian, the remodeled curtiss cabin twin-motored ship, to the authorities; and when they left charleston it was aboard their own familiar plane, the big fokker. in some succeeding volume it may be taken for granted we shall again meet those two interesting aerial soldiers of fortune, jack ralston and perk, doing their perilous stunts in some other field of adventure, the narration of whose exploits may form the basis of the next book in this _sky detective series_. the end. air service boys over the rhine or, fighting above the clouds by charles amory beach author of "air service boys flying for france," "air service boys over the enemy's lines," etc. illustrated by robert gaston herbert the saalfield publishing co. akron, ohio new york made in u.s.a. copyright, , by george sully & company [illustration: blowing up the german munition factory.] contents i double news ii anxious days iii on to paris iv suspicions v the bombardment of paris vi the rue lafayette ruins vii tom's father viii where is mr. raymond? ix various theories x the "dud" xi a monster cannon xii for perilous service xiii the spy xiv with comrades again xv the picked squadron xvi missing xvii seeking the gun xviii a cloud battle xix queer lights xx the big gun xxi devastating fire xxii over the rhine xxiii off for germany xxiv prisoners xxv the escape air service boys over the rhine chapter i double news "here they come back, tom!" "yes, i see them coming. can you count them yet? don't tell me any of our boys are missing!" and the speaker, one of two young men, wearing the uniform of the lafayette escadrille, who were standing near the hangars of the aviation field "somewhere in france," gazed earnestly up toward the blue sky that was dotted with fleecy, white clouds. there were other dots also, dots which meant much to the trained eyes of tom raymond and jack parmly, for the dots increased in size, like oncoming birds. but they were not birds. or rather, they were human birds. the specks in the sky were caudrons. a small aerial fleet was returning from a night raid over the german ammunition dumps and troop centers, and the anxiety of the watching young men was as to whether or not all the airmen, among whom were numbered some of uncle sam's boys, had returned in safety. too many times they did not--that is not all--for the hun anti-aircraft guns found their marks with deadly precision at times. the caudrons appeared larger as they neared the landing field, and tom and jack, raising their binoculars, scanned the ranks--for all the world like a flock of wild geese--to see if they could determine who of their friends, if any, were missing. "how do you make it, tom?" asked jack, after an anxious pause. "i'm not sure, but i can count only eight." "that's what i make it. and ten of 'em went out last night, didn't they?" "so i heard. and if only eight come back it means that at least four of our airmen have either been killed or captured." "one fate is almost as bad as the other, where you have to be captured by the boches," murmured jack. "they're just what their name indicates--beasts!" "you said something!" came heartily from tom. "and yet, to the credit of airmen in general, let it be said that the german aviators treat their fellow, prisoners better than the hun infantrymen do." "so i've heard. well, here's hoping neither of us, nor any more of our friends, falls over the german lines. but look, tom!" and jack pointed excitedly. "are my eyes seeing things, or is that another caudron looming up there, the last in the line? take a look and tell me. i don't want to hope too much, yet maybe we have lost only one, and not two." tom changed the focus of his powerful glasses slightly and peered in the direction indicated by his chum. then he remarked, with the binoculars still at his eyes: "yes, that's another of our machines! but she's coming in slowly. must have been hit a couple of times." "she's lucky, then, to get back at all. but let's go over and hear what the news is. i hope they blew up a lot of the huns last night." "same here!" the aircraft were near enough now for the throbbing of their big motors to be heard, and tom and jack, each an officer now because of gallant work, hurried across the landing field. it was early morning, and they had come, after a night's rest, to report for duty with others of the brave americans who, during the neutrality of this country in the great conflict, went to france as individuals, some to serve as ambulance drivers, others to become aviators. the caudron is the name given to one type of heavy french aeroplane carrying two or more persons and tons of explosive bombs. an air raid on the german lines by a fleet of these machines had been planned. it had been timed for an early hour of the night, but a mist coming up just as the squadron of heavy machines, each with two men and a ton or more of explosives, was ready to set out, the hour had been changed. so it was not until after midnight that the start had been made. and now the boys were coming back--that is all who were able to return. one machine was missing. at least, that was the assumption of tom and jack, for they could count but nine where there should have been ten. and of the nine one was coming back so slowly as to indicate trouble. one by one the machines, which ordinarily came back before daybreak, landed, and the pilot and the observer of each climbed clumsily down from their cramped seats. they were stiff with cold, in spite of the fur-lined garments they wore--garments that turned them, for the moment, into animated teddy bears, or the likeness of eskimos. their faces were worn and haggard, for the strain of an airship bombing raid is terrific. but they were quiet and self-possessed as they walked stiffly across the field to make a report. "any luck?" asked tom, of one he knew; a frenchman noted for his skill and daring. "the best, _mon ami_," he replied with a smile--a weary smile. "we gave fritz a dose of bitter medicine last night." "and he gave us a little in return," sadly added his companion. "quarre and blas--" he shrugged his shoulders, and tom and jack knew what it meant. they were the men in the missing machine, the caudron that had not come back. "did you see what happened?" asked jack. picard, to whom tom had first spoken, answered briefly. "they caught them full in the glare of a searchlight and let them have it. we saw them fall. there didn't seem to be any hope." "but the battery that did the firing--it is no more," added de porry, the companion of picard. "the bombs that quarre and blas carried went down like lead, right on top of the hun guns. they are no more, those guns and those who served." "it was a retributive vengeance," murmured picard. then they passed on, and others, landing, also went to make their reports. some of them had reached their objectives, and had dropped the bombs on the german positions in spite of the withering fire poured upward at them. others had failed. there is always a certain percentage of failures in a night bombing raid. and some were unable to say with certainty what damage they had caused. the last slowly flying machine came to a landing finally, and there was a rush on the part of the other aviators to see what had happened. when tom and jack saw a limp form being lifted out, and heard murmurs of admiration for the pilot who had brought his machine back with a crippled engine, they realized what had happened. the two brave men had fulfilled their mission; they had released their bombs over an important german factory, and had the terrible satisfaction of seeing it go up in flames. but on their return they had been caught in a cross fire, and the observer, who was making his first trip of this kind, had been instantly killed. the engine had been damaged, and the pilot slightly wounded, but he had stuck to his controls and had brought the machine back. there was a little cheer for him, and a silent prayer for his brave companion, and then the night men, having made their reports, and having divested themselves of their fur garments, went to rest. "well, what's on the programme for to-day, tom?" asked jack, as they turned back toward the hangars where they had their headquarters with others of their companions in the lafayette escadrille and with some of the french birdmen. "i don't know what they have on for us. we'll have to wait until the orders come in. i was wondering if we would have time to go and see if there's any mail for us." "i think so. let's go ask the captain." they had, of course, reported officially when they came on duty, and now they went again to their commanding officer, to ask if they might go a short distance to the rear, where an improvised post-office had been set up for the flying men. "certainly, messieurs," replied the french captain, when tom proffered the request for himself and his chum. "go, by all means." he spoke in french, a good mastery of which had been acquired by our heroes since their advent into the great war. "your orders have not yet arrived, but hold yourselves in readiness. fritz is doubtless smarting under the dose we gave him last night, and he may retaliate. there is a rumor that we may go after some of his sausages, and i may need you for that." "does he mean our rations have gone short, and that we'll have to go collecting bolognas?" innocently asked a young american, who had lately joined. "no," laughed tom. "we call the german observation balloons 'sausages.' and sometimes, when they send up too many of them, to get observations and spoil our plans for an offensive, we raid them. it's difficult work, for we have to take them unawares or they'll haul them down. we generally go in a double squadron for this work. the heavy caudrons screen the movements of the little nieuports, and these latter, each with a single man in it, fire phosphorus bullets at the gas bags of the german sausages. "these phosphorus bullets get red hot from the friction of the air, and set the gas envelope aglow. that starts the hydrogen gas to going and--good-night to mr. fritz unless he can drop in his parachute. a raid on the sausages is full of excitement, but it means a lot of preparation, for if there has any rain or dew fallen in the night the gas bags will be so damp that they can't be set on fire, and the raid is off." "say, you know a lot about this business, don't you?" asked the young fellow who had put the question. "nobody knows a _lot_ about it," replied jack. "just as soon as he does he gets killed, or something happens to him. we're just learning--that's all." "well, i wish i knew as much," observed the other enviously. tom and jack walked on toward the post-office, being in rather a hurry to see if there was any mail for them, and to get back to their stations in case their services were needed. as they went along they were greeted by friends, of whom they had many, for they had made names for themselves, young as they were. and, as a matter of fact, nearly all the aviators are young. it takes young nerves for the work. "here's one letter, anyhow!" observed tom, as he tore open a missive that was handed to him. "it's from dad, too! i hope he's all right. he must have been when he wrote this, for it's in his own hand." "i've got one from my mother," said jack. "they're all well," he went on, quickly scanning the epistle. "but they haven't received our last letters." "that isn't surprising," said tom. "the mail service is fierce. but i suppose it can't be helped. we're lucky to get these. and say!" he exclaimed excitedly, as he read on in his letter. "here's news all right--great news!" jack looked at his chum. tom's face was flushed. the news seemed to be pleasurable. jack was about to ask what it was, when he saw a messenger running from the telephone office. this was the main office, or, at least, one of the main offices, in that section, and official, as well as general, news was sometimes sent over the wire. the man was waving a slip of paper over his head, and he was calling out something in french. "what's he saying?" asked jack. "something about good news," answered tom. "i didn't get it all. let's go over and find out. it's good news all right," he went on. "see! they're cheering." "more news," murmured jack. "and you have some, too?" "i should say so! things surely are happening this morning! come on!" and tom set off on a run. chapter ii anxious days while tom and jack were hastening toward the man who seemed to have received some message, telephone, telegraph or wireless, from the headquarters of this particular aviation section, a throng of the aviators, their mechanicians, and various helpers, had surrounded the messenger and were eagerly listening to what he had to say. "i wonder what it can be, tom," murmured jack, as the two fairly ran over the field. those of you who have read the two preceding volumes of this series will remember tom raymond and jack parmly. as related in the first book, "air service boys flying for france; or the young heroes of the lafayette escadrille," the youths had, some time previously, gone to a united states aviation school in virginia, their native state, and there had learned the rudiments of managing various craft of the air. tom's father was an inventor of note, and had perfected a stabilizer for an aeroplane that was considered very valuable, so much so that a german spy stole one of the documents relating to the patent. it was tom's effort to get possession of this paper that led him and, incidentally, his chum jack into many adventures. from their homes in bridgeton, virginia, they eventually reached france and were admitted into that world-famed company--the lafayette escadrille. putting themselves under the tuition of the skilled french pilots, the air service boys forged rapidly to the front in their careers. it was while on a flight one day that they attacked a man in a motor car, who seemed to be acting suspiciously along the sector to which our heroes were assigned, and they pursued him, believing him to be a german spy. their surmise proved correct, for the man, who was hurt when his machine got beyond control, was none other than adolph tuessig, the german who had vainly tried to buy mr. raymond's stabilizer from him, and who had, later, stolen the paper. in our second volume, entitled, "air service boys over the enemy's lines; or the german spy's secret," tom and jack found further adventures. on their way to england, whence they had gone to france, they had met on the steamer a girl named bessie gleason. she was in the company of carl potzfeldt. the girl seemed much afraid of him, though he was her guardian, said to have been so named by mrs. gleason, a distant relative of his. mrs. gleason had been on the ill-fated _lusitania_, and it was related by potzfeldt, for purposes of his own, that bessie's mother had been drowned. moreover, he declared that before she died she had given him charge of bessie. tom and jack, the latter especially, grew very fond of bessie, but there seemed to be a mystery about her and something strange in her fear of her guardian. when the two young men reached england, they lost sight, for a time, of their fellow passengers, but they were destined to meet them again under strange circumstances. during one of their flights they landed near a lonely house behind the german lines. they were traveling in a caudron, which contained them both, and on investigating the building after dark they found, to their surprise, that bessie and her mother were kept there, prisoners of carl potzfeldt, who was a german spy. bessie and her mother were rescued and then departed for paris, the latter to engage in red cross work, and the boys, remaining with their fellow aviators, longed for the time when they might see their friends once more. but they had enlisted to help make the world safe for democracy, and they intended to stay until the task was finished. over a year had elapsed since the sensational rescue of bessie and her mother. the united states had entered the war and the air service boys were thinking that soon they might be able to join an american aviation service in france. "what is it? what has happened?" tom demanded of one of the aviators on the outskirts of the throng about the messenger. "have we won a victory over the germans?" "no, but we're going to," was the answer. "oh, boy! it's great! we're in it now sure! hurray!" "in it? what do you mean?" asked jack. "i mean that uncle sam has at last stepped over the line! he's sure enough on the side of the allies now, and no mistake." "you mean--" cried tom. "i mean," answered ralph nelson, another american aviator, "that the united states has made a big success of the liberty bonds loan and is going to send a million soldiers over here as soon as possible! say, isn't that great?" "great? i should say so!" fairly yelled tom. "shake!" he cried, and he and his chum and everybody else shook hands with every one whose palm they could reach. and there were resounding claps on the back, and wild dances around the green grass, even the french joining in. no not that word "even," for the french, with their exuberance of spirit, really started the joy-making. to the brave men, who, with the british, had so long endured the brunt of the terrible blows of the huns alone, the efforts of the united states of america meant much, though it was realized that it would be some time before uncle sam could make his blows really tell, even though an expeditionary force was already in the field. "say, this is the best news ever!" said jack to tom, when quiet, in a measure, had been restored. "it's immense!" "you said something, old man! it's almost as good news as if you had come in and told me that you had downed a whole squadron of german aircraft." "i wish i could, tom. but we'll do our share. shouldn't wonder, before the day is out, but what we'd get orders to go up and see what we can spot. but i'm almost forgetting. you had some news of your own." "yes, i have. and now i have a chance to finish reading dad's letter." "but first you can tell me what the special news is, can't you?" asked jack. "that is, unless you think it will be too much for me to stand all in one day--your news and that about uncle sam's success in raising funds and troops." "oh, i guess you can stand it," said tom with a smile. "it's this. dad is coming over!" "he is? to fight?" "well, no, not actively. he's a little too old for that, i'm afraid, though he's anxious enough. but he left for paris the day he wrote this. he ought to be here now, for he would, most likely, get off ahead of the mail, which, sometimes, seems slower than molasses." "that's right!" exclaimed jack, with such energy that tom asked: "what's the matter? haven't you heard from bessie lately?" "oh--that!" murmured jack, but tom noticed that his friend blushed under his coat of tan. "go on," jack said, a moment later, "tell me about your father. is the french government going to give him a big order for his stabilizer, now that we got that paper away from that sneak of a tuessig?" "well, i guess dad's trip here has something to do with his aeroplane device, but he hints in his letter about something else. he said he didn't want to write too much for fear a spy might get hold of the information. but you know my father is an expert on ordnance matters and big guns, as well as in other lines of fighting." "that's so, tom. he certainly is a wonder when it comes to inventing things. but what do you suppose his new mission is?" "i can't quite guess. but it is for the service of the allies." "and you say he's on his way to paris now?" "he ought to be there by this time," tom answered. "i'm going to see if i can't get permission to send a message through, and have an answer from dad. maybe he might get out here to see us." "or we could go in and meet him." "not for a week. you know we just came back from leave, and we won't be over our tour of duty for seven days more. but i can't wait that long without some word. i'm going to see what i can find out." tom and jack, like all the other american fliers, were in high favor with the french officers. in fact every aviator of the allied nations, no matter how humble his rank, is treated by his superiors almost as an equal. there is not that line of demarcation noticed in other branches of the service. to be an aviator places one, especially in england and france, in a special class. all regard him as a hero who is taking terrible risks for the safety of the other fighters. so tom readily received permission to send a message to the hotel in paris mentioned by his father as the place where mr. raymond would stay. and then tom had nothing to do but wait for an answer. nothing to do? no, there was plenty. both tom and jack had to hold themselves in readiness for instant service. they might be sent out on a bombing expedition at night in the big heavy machines, slow of flight but comparatively safe from attack by other aircraft. they might have the coveted honor of being selected to go out in the swift, single nieuports to engage in combat with some hun flier. to become an "ace"--that is a birdman who, flying alone, has disposed of five enemies--is the highest desire of an aviator. tom and jack, eager and ambitious, were hoping for this. again, in the course of the day's work, they might be selected to go up in the big bi-motored caudrons for reconnoissance work. this is dangerous and hard. the machines carry a wireless apparatus, over which word is sent back to headquarters concerning what may be observed of the enemy's defenses, or a possible offensive. often the machines go beyond the range of their necessarily limited wireless, and have to send back messages by carrier pigeons which are carried on the craft. by far the most dangerous work, however, is that of "_relage_" or fire control. this means that two men go up in a big machine that carries a large equipment. their craft is heavy and unwieldy, and has such a spread of wing surface that it is not easily turned, and if attacked by a german fokker has little chance of escape. a machine gun is carried for defense. it is a function of those in the machine to send word back to the battery officers of the effect of the shots they are firing, that the elevation and range may be corrected. and those who go out on "_relage_" work are in danger not only from the fire of the enemy's batteries, but often, also, from their own. tom and jack had their share of danger and glory during the week they were on duty following the receipt of the two pieces of news. they went up together and alone, and once, coming back from a successful trip over the enemy's lines, tom's machine was struck by several missiles. his cheek was cut by one, and his metal stability control was severed so that his craft started to plunge. tom thought it was his end, but he grasped the broken parts of the control rod in one hand, and steered with the other, bringing his machine down behind his own lines, amid the cheers of his comrades. "and i'm glad to be back, not only for my sake, but for the sake of the machine. she's a beauty, and i'd have hated like anything to set fire to her," remarked tom, after his wound had been dressed. he referred to the universal practice of all aviators of setting fire to their craft if they are brought down within the enemy lines, and are not so badly injured as to prevent them from opening the gasoline tank and setting a match to it. this is done to prevent the machine, and often the valuable papers or photographs carried, from falling into the hands of the enemy. the end of the week came, the last of seven anxious days, and it was time for tom and jack to be relieved for a rest period. and the days had been anxious because tom had not heard from his father. "i hope the vessel he was coming on wasn't torpedoed," said tom to his chum. "he's had more than time to get here and send me some word. none has come. jack, i'm worried!" and tom certainly looked it. chapter iii on to paris those were the days--and they had been preceded by many such--when travel across the atlantic was attended with great risk and uncertainty. no one knew when a lurking german submarine might loose a torpedo at a ship carrying men, women and children. many brave and innocent people had found watery graves, and perhaps suffered first a ruthless fire from the german machine guns, which were even turned on lifeboats! so it was no wonder that tom raymond was worried about his father. "it's queer we can't get any word from the authorities in paris," remarked jack, as he and his chum were speculating one day on what might have happened. "yes, and that helps to bother me," tom admitted. "it isn't as if they weren't trying, for the officers here have done all they can. they've gotten off my messages, but they say there is no reply to them." "then it must mean that your father, if he is in paris, hasn't received them." "either that, jack; or else he doesn't dare reply." "why wouldn't he dare to, tom?" "well, i don't know that i can give a good reason. it might be that he is on such a secret mission that he doesn't want even to hint about it. and yet i can't understand why he doesn't send me at least a message that he has arrived safely." as tom said this he looked at his chum. the same thought was in the mind of each one: had mr. raymond arrived safely? that was what stirred tom's heart. he knew the danger he and jack had run, coming across to do their part in flying for france, and he well realized that the germans might have been more successful in attacking the vessel on which his father had sailed, than they had the one which had carried tom and jack. "well, what are we going to do?" asked jack of his chum. "you know we arranged, when we should get our leave, to go back to that pretty little french village, which seemed so peaceful after all the noise of battle and the roar of the aeroplane engines." "yes, i know we planned that," said tom, reflectively. "but, somehow, i feel that i ought to stay here." "and not take our relief?" "oh, no. we'll take that," decided tom. "we must, in justice to ourselves, and those we work with. you know they tell us an airman must always be at his best, with muscles and nerves all working together. and a certain amount of rest and change are necessary, after a week or so of steady flying. so we'll take our rest in order to be in all the better shape to trim the fritzies. but i was thinking of staying right here." "and not go back into the country?" asked jack. tom shook his head. "i'd like to stay right here until i get word from my father," he said. "he may send a message at any time, and he knows i am stationed here. of course i could send him word that we're having a little vacation, and give him our new address. "but the mails are so mixed up, and the telegraph and telephone systems are so rushed, that he might not get it. so i think the best thing will be to stay right here where i'll be on hand to get it the moment word comes. but don't let me keep you, jack. you can go, if you want to." "say, what do you think i am?" cried his chum. "where you stick, i stick! we'll both wait here for word from your father. i have a sort of feeling that he is all right." "well, to tell you the truth, i suppose he is. but, at the same time, i'm worried. i can't explain it, but i have a sort of sense that he is in danger." "not if he is in paris, tom. the german's haven't gotten within striking distance of that city yet, in spite of their boasts--the boasts of the kaiser and of the crown prince." "no, if dad were in paris i'd feel that he was comparatively safe. but first i want to know that he is. and yet, even if he has put up at that house in the rue lafayette, where he said in his letter he'd stay, there may be some danger." "danger in paris? what do you mean, tom?" "well, paris has been bombed from the air, you know." "true, tom. but, say! we've almost come to disregard such mild things as that from the huns, haven't we?" "well, we'll just stay right on here," decided tom. "i don't mean to say that we'll stay around our hangar all the while, but we'll keep in touch, throughout the day, with the communication headquarters. dad may send a message at any time, and i want to get it as soon as it arrives." jack could understand his chum's feelings, and so the air service boys, who, some time previous, had sought and received permission to go back several kilometers into the country for a rest, announced that they would stay on at the aerodrome. nor did they lack excitement. the place where they were stationed was a busy one. for every twenty pilots and observers there are detailed about one hundred men as helpers. there are cooks, photographers, mechanics of various sorts, telephone, telegraph and wireless operators, orderlies and servants. of these tom and jack had their share, for it is the business of an airman to fly and fight, and he does nothing except in that line. he is catered to and helped in every possible way when not in the air. he has some one to wait on him, to look after his machine, and to attend to his hurts, if he is unlucky enough to get any. of course each flier goes over, personally, his own craft, but he has oilers and mechanics to do all the detail work. "well, there they go!" exclaimed tom to jack one morning, the second of their "vacation," as they observed a number of "aces" about to go up and search above the clouds for some hun to attack. "yes, and i wish i was with them!" said jack. "waiting isn't much fun," agreed his chum. "i'm sure i can't understand why dad doesn't send some word. if this keeps up much longer--say, jack, look at parla!" he suddenly cried. "what's the matter with him?" jack looked. the men, in their machines, had started off to get momentum for a rise into the air. but there had been a rain and the ground was soft, which kept down the speed. all the pilots seemed to get off in fairly good shape except one, parla by name, who had only recently secured the coveted designation of "ace." and then occurred one of those tragedies of flying. whether he was nervous at taking a flight in such distinguished company, or whether something went wrong with parla's machine never would be known. he was the last in the line, and as it was rather misty he might have been anxious not to lose sight of his companions. he did not take a long enough run, and when he reached the end of the field he was not high enough to clear the line of hangars that were in front of him. some one shouted at him, not stopping to realize that the noise of the motor drowned everything else in the ears of the pilot. the luckless man tried to make a sharp turn, to get out of danger. one of his wing tips caught on the canvas tent, or hangar, and in another instant there was a crash and a mass of wreckage. from this, a little later, poor parla was carried. but the others did not stay, for though the shadow of death hovered over the escadrille, the business of war went on. after three days tom and jack could not stand it any longer. they begged for permission to go up into the air. it was granted, though officially they were still on leave. ascending together in a caudron, on a photographing assignment, they were attacked by two swift german fokkers. tom worked the gun, and to such good effect that he smashed one machine, sending it down with a crash, and drove the second off. so other laurels were added to those the boys already had. "if this keeps on we'll be soon wearing the chevrons of sergeants," said jack, as they landed. "well, i'd almost give up hope of them to hear from dad," announced tom. "i'm going to see if some word hasn't come." but there was no message. still the strange silence continued, and tom and his chum did not know whether mr. raymond had reached paris or not. through his own captain, tom appealed to the highest authority at the escadrille, asking that a last imploring message be sent to the address in the rue lafayette. this was done, and then followed another day of waiting. at last tom said: "jack, i can't stand it any longer! this suspense is fierce!" "but what are you going to do about it?" "i'm going to paris! that's what! we'll go there and find my father if he has arrived. if he hasn't--well, there is still some hope." "go to paris!" murmured jack. "yes. it's the only place where i can make uncertainty a certainty. come on, we'll go to paris!" chapter iv suspicions tom raymond started across the field toward headquarters. jack followed, but there was a strange look on the latter's face. "i don't see how you're going to paris," remarked jack, at length. "do you mean we're to go in separate machines, or together?" "oh, nothing like that!" exclaimed tom. "we won't go in machines at all. we'll go by train, if we can get one, or by motor." "but you're heading for the escadrille headquarters office, and--" "we've got to get official permission to go," explained tom. "we can't rush off, whenever we like, as we used to go fishing together." to his captain tom explained matters more fully than he had done before. in effect he related the fact of having received the letter, stating that mr. raymond had started for paris, presumably to engage in some work for the french government, or at least for the allies. whether he had arrived or not, and, in the former case, to ascertain why he had not sent some word to his son, was the object of tom's quest. "i've tried and tried, from this end, to get in touch with him," explained tom; "but something seems to happen to my messages. i know they leave here all right, but after that they are lost. now i have an idea that there is so much going on in paris--so much necessary war work--that the ordinary lines of communication are choked. but if i could go to the capital in person i could soon find out whether my father was at the address he gave." "and you want, do you, to go together?" asked the kindly french captain, smiling at tom and jack. "we'd like to go," said tom. "and go you shall. i will write the necessary order. you have done well, and i understand you have some days of leave coming. to them i shall add more. but come back to me," he added, as he filled out the pass form. "come back. we need you americans now more than ever!" "we'll come back," promised tom. "all i want to go to paris for is to find out about my father." "ah, i envy you," said the captain softly. "both in the possession of a father, who must be proud to have such a son as you, and also because you are going to paris. it is the most beautiful--the most wonderful--city in the world. and to think--to think that those barbarians would sack her! ah, it is terrible!" and with a sad nodding of his head, following the shaking of an avenging fist toward the german lines, he waved tom and jack an adieu. the two air service boys lost little time in making their preparations to leave for the french capital. they had to get certain passes and papers, and they wished to say good-bye to some of their comrades in arms. for, more than any other branch of the service, is aviation uncertain as to life or death. tom and jack well knew that some, perhaps many, of those who wished them "_au revoir_," and "_bonne chance_," would not be alive when they returned. and tom and jack might not return themselves. true, their chances were comparatively good, but the fortunes of war are uncertain. and so, after certain preliminaries, tom and jack, their pet machines in the hangars, left behind their beloved comrades and were taken by motor to the nearest railway station. there they secured their tickets and took their places to wait, with what patience they could, their arrival in paris. the train was well filled with "_permissionnaires_," or soldiers on leave for a few days of happiness in the capital, and at certain stations, where more got on, the rush was not unlike that at a crowded hour in some big city. "i see something good," remarked jack, as they sat looking out at the scenery, glad, even for a brief moment, to be beyond the horrors of war. "what?" asked his companion. "there's a dining-car on this train. we sha'n't starve." "good enough, i almost forgot about eating," said tom. "now that you speak of it, i find i have an appetite." they ate and felt better; and it was as they were about to leave the dining-car to go back to their places, that jack nudged tom and whispered to him: "did you hear what he said?" "hear what who said?" "that man just back of you. did you have a good look at him?" "i didn't, but i will have," said tom, and, waiting a moment so as not to cause any suspicion that his act was directed by his chum, tom turned and looked at the person jack indicated. he beheld a quietly dressed man, who seemed to be alone and paying attention to no one, eating his lunch. "well, what about him?" asked tom. "i don't see anything remarkable about him, except that he's a slow eater. i admit i bolt my food too much." "no, it isn't that," said jack in a low voice. "but don't you think he looks like a german?" tom took another casual glance. "well, you might find a resemblance if you tried hard," he answered. "but i should be more inclined to call him a dutchman. and when i say dutchman i mean a hollander." "i understand," remarked jack. "but i don't agree with you in thinking that he may be from holland. of course men of that nationality have a right to go and come as they choose, where they can, but i don't believe this chap is one." "why not?" "because i heard him mutter something in german." "well, lots of hollanders can speak german, i have no doubt. i can splutter a few words myself, but not enough to hurt me. i began to pick up some from the prisoners, after we had that experience with potzfeldt, when we realized that even a little knowledge of the hun's talk, much as we hate him, would be of service. and so you think you heard this fellow speak german?" asked tom, as he pretended to tie his shoe lace, to make an excuse for pausing. "i'm sure i did," said jack. "what did he say?" "something about wishing he had a plate of _metzel suppe_. of course i don't guarantee that pronunciation, but--" "oh, it'll do," said tom, graciously. "well, there's nothing very suspicious in that, though. i might wish for some _wienerwurst_, but that wouldn't make me a german spy." "no. but take one other thing and you'll have to admit that there is some ground for my belief." "what's the other thing, old top?" asked tom, in imitation of some englishmen. "he was making drawings of the railroad line," asserted jack. "how do you know?" "i saw him. he pretended to be looking at the _carte de jour_, and i caught a glimpse of a sheet of paper on which he was making certain marks. i'm sure he was sketching out something about the railroad, for use, maybe, in a future air raid." "nonsense!" exclaimed tom. "as a matter of fact, i don't doubt that the german secret agents know every foot of ground in and about paris. they must have maps of this railroad the same as the french have of some of germany's, only you've got to hand it to the huns! they certainly went into this thing well prepared the more discredit to us, in a way. but are you sure of what you say, jack?" he added, after a moment's thought. "positive! i'm sure that man is a german spy, masking as a hollander or possibly a swiss. he's sighing for some of his country's good cooking--though that's one of the few good things about it--and he's making some sort of a map." tom thought over the matter a moment. the man did not appear to notice the two chums. "i'll tell you what we can do," tom said. "we'll soon be in at the gare de l'est, and we can tip off some of the officers around there. they can follow this fellow, if they think it's worth while." "well, i think it's worth while," said jack. "if that fellow isn't a spy i'm a dutchman!" as jack spoke the man looked up and full at the two lads, almost as if he had heard the words. chapter v the bombardment of paris "there, jack! what did i tell you? i win! you lose, and it's me for a fine dinner at your expense! you lose! do you hear?" tom raymond, with a hearty laugh, clapped his chum on the shoulder, and seemed mirthfully excited over something. as for jack parmly he looked first at his chuckling comrade and then at the man he suspected of being a german spy. the latter, who had glanced keenly at the boys, with something akin to anger on his face, now was plainly puzzled. "do you understand?" demanded tom in a loud voice, which attracted the attention of many in the car. but a look at the two, showing them to be americans and, therefore, to the french mind, capable of any eccentricity, seemed to make matters right. most of the diners resumed their meals. "see what i mean, jack?" went on tom. "you lose! understand?" "no, i don't understand," was the low-voiced and somewhat puzzled answer. "then for the sake of your gasolene tank _pretend_ that you do!" fiercely whispered tom in his chum's ear. "play up to my game! don't you see that fellow's suspicious of us? he thinks we've been talking about him. i win, do you understand?" "oh, yes," answered jack, and then, in a louder tone, intended to allay suspicion on the part of the suspect, he added: "you win all right, tom! i'll buy the dinner. i didn't think the train would get in so soon! it's one on me all right!" and then, laughing and talking in seeming carelessness, as though they had not a thought in the world but the friendly wager they had made, they went back to their coach. "that was a narrow squeak," observed tom. "he was getting suspicious all right, and in another moment might have made an indignant demand of the guard that we cease observing him. it might have made trouble for us. we're not members of the secret police, remember." "well," remarked jack, "he might have made trouble for us, but i could do the same for him. i'd let fall a hint about the map of the railway he was sketching." "you mean all right, jack, but i don't believe your plan would work. if that fellow really is a german spy, which i doubt, he'd destroy the map, if he made one, the moment he thought himself in danger." "maybe you're right, tom," agreed his chum, a bit dubiously. "but i certainly think there is something wrong about that man." "maybe you think he is carl potzfeldt, disguised, jack." "no, nothing like that. though i wouldn't be surprised if he happened to be friendly with that sneaking spy. and, speaking of potzfeldt, tom, though he isn't by any means a pleasant subject, do you know we are soon to be in paris where--" "where bessie and her mother are, you mean. you're right, old chap, i haven't forgotten that, and i'll wager one chance for promotion that you haven't forgotten it either." jack's blush was sufficient answer to his friend. "i couldn't quite understand what you meant, tom, by talking so suddenly and loudly about you winning and me losing," went on jack, as they got their baggage ready, for the train was about to enter the paris station. "that was camouflage, jack, pure and unadulterated camouflage," answered tom with a laugh. "i had to do something in a hurry to get that fellow's gaze off us, or he might have made a scene, and we don't want that. but if i had made a wager with you about the time, i'd have won, for here we are, right on the dot, which is unusual in these days, i believe." "you said something, tom. but what are we going to do about our spy?" "well, if you insist that's what he is, i think the best thing would be to notify some secret service official. there must be plenty of them around the station. every passenger, before he leaves the station, has to have his papers stamped by the military authorities. then's your chance to tip them off about this chap." "i'll do it, tom. i'm not going to lose any chances of putting german enemies out of the way." it was about five o'clock when the train pulled into the gare de l'est, and the passengers, including many soldiers on leave, prepared for the joys of paris. tom and jack, proceeding as did the others to the place designated for the official stamping of papers, found a chance to tell their suspicions to an officer, and to point out the man jack suspected. "the matter shall be attended to," said the military official, treating the information with the utmost respect, and evidently considering it of more importance than tom imagined would be attached to it. "we are greatly indebted to you, not only because you are of our beloved aviators, but because you also think to do this for france--to protect her from enemies within as well as from those who are without. france thanks you, gentlemen!" and the aged officer saluted the two young men as though he considered them his equals. "well, now that's off our minds we can get down to the real business that brought us to paris," suggested tom. "and that's to find my father--if he's here. after that we can look up bessie and her mother, if you like, jack." "of course i'll be glad to do that, tom, and i should think that you--" "oh, of a surety, yes, as a frenchman would say. i'll be happy also, to see our friends again, but i know bessie will consider--" "oh, drop it, will you?" begged jack, for he could see that his chum was about to start to rally him about the girl. "then," went on tom, "the first thing to do, in my opinion, is to get to this address in the rue lafayette where dad said he would make his headquarters, and see why he hasn't answered any of my messages. when i once see him, and know he's all right, i'll feel better." "even capable of eating that dinner you claim to have won from me?" asked jack. "of course." the two air service boys had the satisfaction of seeing the "tip" they gave acted on, for as they left the station they observed the officer to whom they had reported, detailing a man in plain clothes, evidently one of the secret police, to follow the man they had watched in the dining car. "we can leave the rest to the military," said tom. "and now let's get to where we're going." "hadn't we better arrange for hotel accommodations, or to stop at a pension?" asked jack. "you know paris is crowded now, even in war times, and we've got to stay here all night, even if we learn that your father hasn't yet arrived." "that's so," agreed tom. "maybe we had better get a place to bunk first." it would not have been an easy task had they not worn the uniforms of aviators. but once these were noted, they were welcomed with smiles, and though at the first place they applied there was no room, the proprietor busied himself to such advantage that the boys were soon settled in a big double room with a fine view of a busy section of paris. on every side was seen evidence of the joy and satisfaction felt at the showing made by the progress of the united states in her war programme. the stars and stripes were seen floating from many staffs, mingled with the tricolor of france and the english union jack. that uncle sam had at last gotten beyond the bounds of patience with a ruthless and sneaking enemy and was making energetic warfare against him was welcome news to those who had so long borne the unequal brunt of battle. "americans? ah, everything that i have is yours!" the hotel proprietor told tom and jack. "you have but to ask. and now come, i will show you the way to the cellar." "but we don't care to see the cellar," remarked tom in wonder. "no doubt it is a very fine one, monsieur," he added in his best french, which was nothing to boast of. "no doubt it is most excellent, but we don't care for cellars." "ah, i know, but it is for protection in case of an air raid that i show it to you. it is there we all take shelter. there have been raids, and there will be more. it is well to be prepared. it is a well-protected cellar." "oh, well, that's different," observed jack. "come on, tom, we'd better learn the best and quickest route to the basement. no telling when we might want to use it." they descended with the proprietor and saw that he had arranged the cellar with a false roof of beams, on top of which were sand bags. in case a bomb was dropped on the hotel or in its vicinity the cellar would offer almost certain protection. the boys arranged for a stay of at least a week in paris, having told the proprietor their errand to the capital. by the time they had finished their dinner they found it was too late to set out in search of mr. raymond, as in the changed, war-time paris little could be done in the evening. so tom and jack retired to their room and their bed. "are you going right to the rue lafayette?" asked jack of his chum, the next day. "yes, and if we can't get any news of him there we'll appeal to the military authorities. i have a letter of introduction to persons high in authority from our captain." the boys hailed a taxicab and gave the chauffeur the necessary directions. they were bowling along through the beautiful streets of paris, noting on all sides the warlike scenes, and their thoughts were busily occupied, when they suddenly became aware that something had happened. like a thunderbolt from a clear sky there sounded a terrific explosion, and at no great distance. the concussion shook the ground, and they could feel the taxicab tremble under the shock, while the chauffeur instantly threw on all brakes, making the machine skid dangerously. "what is it? what's the matter?" yelled jack. "airship raid most likely!" shouted tom. "boches are dropping bombs on paris! oh, where's our cellar, jack?" the taxicab driver jumped down and opened the door. "you had best alight, gentlemen," he said. "you must seek shelter." "is it an airship raid?" asked tom. "no, there is not an airship in sight. no such alarm has been sounded by the police. i fear the bombardment of paris by the germans has begun!" chapter vi the rue lafayette ruins tom raymond and jack parmly alighted from the taxicab more quickly than they had gotten in. the chauffeur was anxiously scanning the sky. excited men, women and children were rushing about, and yet it was not such excitement as might be caused by the first shelling of the beautiful city. it was more, as tom said afterward, as though the populace had been taken by surprise by a new method in the same kind of warfare, for an occasional german zeppelin or a bombing aircraft had, before this, dropped explosives. to these the french had become as much accustomed as one ever can to such terrible means of attack. but this was different. there was no sign of a hun aircraft, and, as the chauffeur had said, no police warning had been sounded. "what is it?" asked jack. "it is a bombardment, that is all i know," replied the taxicab driver. he spoke in french, a language which the two boys used fairly well, though, as has been said, their accent left much to be desired. "you had best seek shelter until it is over," went on the man. "i shall do so myself." he seemed to pause suggestively, and jack handed him some money. "_merci_," he murmured, and an instant later was careening down the street at full speed. "he isn't losing any time," said jack. "no. and perhaps we hadn't better, either. where'd that shell fall?" asked tom. "i don't know, but it must have been somewhere about here, judging by the noise. look, the crowd's over that way," and he pointed to the left. it was true. careless of the danger of remaining in the open, men, and women, too, as well as some children, were rushing toward the place where, undoubtedly, the shell from the german gun had fallen. "might as well take it in," suggested jack. "i don't want to crawl down into a cellar or a subway quite yet, even if there's one around here; do you?" "no," answered tom, "i don't. go on, i'm with you." they followed the throng, but could not resist the impulse to gaze upward now and then for a possible sight of another shell, which, they half hoped, they might observe in time to run for shelter. but of course that would have been out of the question. however, quiet succeeded the din of the explosion, which had been close to the spot where the taxicab had stopped and the boys had alighted. following the crowd, tom and jack came to a side street, and one look down it showed the havoc wrought by the german engine of death. the shell, of what kind or calibre could not be even guessed, had fallen on top of an establishment where a number of women and girls were employed. and many of these had been killed or wounded. there were heart-rending scenes, which it is not good to dwell upon. but, even in the terror and horror, french efficiency was at the fore. ambulances were summoned, a guard was thrown about the building, and the work of aiding the injured and tenderly carrying out the dead was begun. a vast and excited throng increased in size about the building that had been hit and there was much excitement for a time. tom and jack managed to get to a place where they could get a view of the havoc wrought to the structure itself, and the first thing that impressed them was mentioned by jack, who said: "they didn't use a very big shell, or there wouldn't have been such comparatively slight material damage done." "the force was mostly expended inside the building," suggested tom. "even so, if it had been a big shell, the kind they fired at verdun and liège, there'd be a crater here big enough to put a church in. as it is, only the two top stories are wrecked." "that's right," agreed tom. "i wonder what sort of explosive they are using? must have been one from a bombing aeroplane." "no, monsieur," interrupted a _gendarme_ who was standing near. "pardon, for speaking," he went on, with a salute, "but there was no airship observed over paris at all. the shell came out of the clear sky." "but it couldn't have," insisted jack, in reply to this policeman. "if the germans are firing on paris they must have some place from which to shoot their gun. either on the ground or from an airship." "it was not an airship," insisted the _gendarme_. "excuse me for insisting this to one who is in the air service," and he pointed with pride to the uniform the boys wore, "but i have seen several air raids, and i know! there was no airship seen, or i would have blown the alarm," and he motioned to his whistle which he carried for that purpose. "it could have come from an immense airship, so high up as to be beyond observation," suggested jack. "that's possible. probably the germans didn't want to be bombarded themselves by aircraft guns here, and they flew high." the police officer shook his head. he was not convinced. "but, man, how else could it be?" asked tom, in some heat. "the huns have to rest their gun somewhere, and you--say, jack!" he suddenly exclaimed, his face paling slightly, "you don't suppose they have broken through, do you?" "through our lines about paris? never!" cried the police officer. "they shall not pass! our brave soldiers have said it, and they will maintain it. they shall not pass!" "and yet," mused tom, as he looked at the rescue work going on, "what other explanation is there? it's a bombardment of paris all right, by german shells. if they don't come from an aeroplane, high up, they must come--" his words were drowned by another great concussion, but farther off. the ground trembled, but there was no sign of flying debris. "another!" cried the _gendarme_. "there goes the gun again!" "i didn't hear any gun," observed jack. "what we heard was the explosion of the shell. look up, tom, and see if there's a hun plane in sight. if there is, pity we haven't our machines right now." the boys carried, slung over their shoulders, powerful binoculars, and with these they swept the sky. others about them were doing the same. by this time the most seriously injured had been carried to the hospitals, and the dead had been removed, while those only slightly hurt, as well as those in the factory not at all injured, were telling their experiences. the second explosion seemed to create great terror. "there isn't a sign of a hostile plane," said tom, as he swept the sky with his glasses. "i can't see any either," observed jack. "and yet--" there sounded the unmistakable roar of an aircraft's propeller. "there she is!" cried some one. but it was one of the first of a series of french planes that had hastily ascended to search the heavens for a sight of the supposed german craft that had dropped the bombs. "what a chance we're missing!" murmured jack. "yes," agreed tom. "but they're going to have some flight before they locate that hun. there isn't so much as a speck in the sky except the french craft." "let's go and see where that other explosion was," suggested jack, when they had observed several of the french planes scurrying to and fro over the city, climbing higher and higher in search of the enemy. "i'm with you," announced tom. "i wonder what dad thinks of this?" "it'll be something new for him," said jack. "he'll have a good chance to see how his stabilizer works, if they're using it on these planes here. and maybe he can invent a better one." "perhaps," returned tom. "but, jack, do you know i'm worried about one thing." "i have more than that on my mind, tom. there are mighty serious times all about us, and it's terrible to think of those poor women and girls being killed like rats in a trap. i'd just like to be in my plane, and with a full gun, and then have a go at the hun who did this." "so would i," agreed tom, as they made their way out of the crowd and in the direction in which many of the populace were hurrying to go to the scene of the second explosion. "but, jack, do you know i shouldn't be surprised to learn that the shell was not from an airship at all." "where would it be from then?" "the germans may have massed such a lot of troops at some point opposite the french lines, that they have broken through and have brought up some of their heavy guns." jack shook his head. "i don't believe they could do it," he said. "you know the nearest german line is about seventy miles from paris. if they had started to break through, and had any success at all, the news would have reached here before this. and reinforcements would be on the way. no, it can't be. there must be some other explanation." "but what is it?" asked tom. "they've got to get nearer than seventy miles to bombard paris. you know that." "i don't think i really _know_ anything about this war," said jack simply. "so many strange, things have happened, so many old theories have been discarded, and so many new things have been done that we don't know where we are." "well that's true. and yet how could the germans get near enough to bombard paris without some word of it coming in?" "i don't know. but the fact remains. now let's get to where the second shell fell. maybe we can see a fragment of it and--" once again the words were interrupted by an explosion. this time it was closer and the shock was greater. "that's the third!" cried jack. "yes," added tom, looking at his watch, "and it's just half an hour since the first one fell. that indicates they're firing every fifteen minutes. jack, there's something weird about this." "you're right. that last one came rather close, too. i wonder where it fell?" a man, passing them, running in a direction away from the sound of the last explosion, heard jack's question. he paused long enough to say; "that shell fell in rue lafayette. several buildings are in ruins. many have been killed! it is terrible!" "rue lafayette!" gasped jack. "that--" "that's where my father is supposed to be staying!" exclaimed tom. "come! we must see what happened!" chapter vii tom's father with anxious hearts the air service boys ran on. there was no need to ask their way, for they had but to follow the throng toward the scene of the most recent exhibition of the hun's frightfulness and horror. as they drew near the rue lafayette, where mr. raymond had said he intended to stay while in paris, the boys were halted by an officer on the outskirts of the throng. "pardon, but you may not go farther," he said, courteously enough. "there is danger. we are about to sound the alarm so that all may take to shelter. the boches are raiding paris again." "we know it," said tom. "but it is no idle curiosity that takes us on." "no?" politely questioned the policeman. "no. i am seeking my father. he wrote to me that he would stop in the rue lafayette, and i have not heard from him since. i was told that the last shell fell in that street." "it did," assented the officer, "and it demolished two houses and part of another. many were killed and injured." "then i must see if my father is among them!" insisted the young aviator. "pardon, monsieur, it is not possible. i have my instructions, and--" he stopped, and for the first time seemed to become aware of the uniforms worn by tom and jack. then the officer saluted as though proud to do it. "ah," he murmured. "of the lafayette escadrille! you may go where you will. only i hope it is not into danger," he said, as he drew aside for them to pass. "pardon, i did not at first sense who you were. france owes you much, messieurs. keep your lives save for her!" "we will," promised tom, as he hurried on, followed by jack. they came to the head of the street they sought, and, looking down it, beheld ruins greater than they had seen before. as the officer had said, two buildings had been completely demolished, and a third partly so, the wreckage of all mingling. and amid these ruins police and soldiers were working frantically to get out the injured and remove the dead, of whom there was a sad number. tom's face was white, but he kept his nerve. he had been through too many scenes of horror, had been too near death too often of late, as had his chum, to falter now, even though his father might be among those buried in the wreckage caused by the german shell. "do you know what number your father was to stop at?" asked jack. "yes, i have his letter," tom answered. "i'm afraid, jack, it was in one of those buildings that have been blown apart." "no, tom!" "i'm afraid so. but, even at that, he may have had a chance for his life. he may have been out, or, after all, he may not have arrived yet. i'm not going to give up hope until i have to." "that's the way to talk, old man. i'm with you to the last." they pressed on, and populace and officers alike gave way before them as they saw the uniforms. "we've got to help!" declared tom. "we must pitch in, jack, and lend a hand here. the soldiers seem to be in charge. let's report to the commanding officer and offer our services." "but your father?" "that's the best way to find him if he's in those ruins. let us help get the unfortunates out. i hope i don't find him, but i must make sure." making their way through the press of people, which, under order of the police and military authorities, had begun to disperse in some small measure, tom and jack reported to the officer in charge, giving him their names and rank, at the same time showing their papers. "we want to help," the lads told him. "and i ask no better," was the quick response. "there are dead and dying under that pile. they must be gotten out." and then began heart-rending scenes. tom and jack did valiant work in carrying out the dead and dying, in both of which classes were men, women and children. the german beasts were living up to the mark they had set for themselves in their war of frightfulness. each time a dead or injured man was reached, to be carried out for hospital treatment or to have the last sad rites paid him, tom nerved himself to look. but he did not see his father, and some small measure of thankfulness surged into his heart. but there were still others buried deep under the ruins, and it would be some time before their bodies, dead or alive, could be got out. as the soldiers and police worked, on all sides could be heard discussions as to what new form or manner of weapon the germans were using thus to reach paris. many inclined to the theory that it was a new form of airship, flying so high as to be not only beyond ordinary observation, but to be unreachable by the type of planes available at paris. "if we could only find a piece of the shell we could come nearer to guessing what sort of gun fired it," remarked tom, as the two air service boys rested a moment from their hard, terrible labors. "do you mean if it was dropped from an airship it wouldn't have any rifling grooves on it?" asked jack. "that's it. a bomb, dropped from an aeroplane, would, very likely, be only a sort of round affair, set to explode on contact or by a time fuse. but if it was a shell fired from a long-range gun, there might be enough of it left, after the explosion, to observe the rifling." "there isn't a gun with a range long enough to reach paris from the nearest german lines, unless they have broken through," said jack. "well, the last may have happened; though i should think we'd have got some word of it in that case. there'd be fierce fighting if the germans tried that, and we'd rush reinforcements out in taxicabs as the paris soldiers went out once before." "do you think then," asked jack, as they went back, after their brief respite, to their appalling labors, "that they have a gun long enough to fire from their nearest point, which is about seventy miles from this city?" "i don't know what to think," remarked tom. "it seems like a wild dream to speak of a gun that can shoot so far; and yet reality is over-topping many wild dreams these days. i'm going to reserve judgment. my chief concern now, though of course i'm not going to let it interfere with my work, is to find my father. if he should have been in here, jack--" tom did not finish, but his chum knew what he meant, and sympathized with his unexpressed fear for the safety of mr. raymond. digging and delving into the ruins, they brought out the racked and maimed bodies, and there was more than one whose eyes were wet with tears, while in their hearts wild and justifiable rage was felt at the ruthless germans. ten had been killed and nearly twice that number wounded in the third shell from the hun cannon. from a policeman tom learned that one of the two buildings that had been demolished was the number given by mr. raymond as the place he would stay. "the place he picked out may have been full, and he might have gone somewhere else," said tom. "we've got to find out about that, jack." "that's right. i should think the best person, or persons, to talk to would be the janitors, or '_concierges_,' as they call 'em here." "i'll do that," responded tom. aided by an army officer, to whom the boys had recommended themselves, not only by reason of their rank, but because of their good work in the emergency, they found a man who was in charge of all three buildings as a renting agent. fortunately he had his books, which he had saved from the wreck. "you ask for a monsieur raymond," he said, as he scanned the begrimed pages. "yes, he was here. it was in the middle building he had a room." "in the one that was destroyed?" asked tom, his heart sinking. "i regret to say it--yes." "then i--then it may be all up with poor old dad!" and tom, with a masterful effort, restrained his grief, while jack gripped his chum's hand hard. chapter viii where is mr. raymond? tom raymond, having gone through a hard school since he began flying for france, soon recovered almost complete mastery of himself. the first shock was severe, but when it was over he was able to think clearly. indeed the faculty of thinking clearly in times of great danger is what makes great aviators. for in no other situation is a clear and quick brain so urgently needed. "well, i'm sure of one thing, jack," said tom, as they walked away from the fateful ruins. "of those we helped carry out none was my father. he wasn't among the injured or dead." "i'm sure of that, too. still we mustn't count too much on it, tom. i don't want you to have false hopes. we must make sure." "yes, i'm going to. we'll visit the hospitals and morgues, and talk with the military and police authorities. in these war times there is a record of everybody and everything kept, so it ought to be easy to trace him." "he arrived all right, that's settled," declared jack. "the agent's record proves that." "yes. i'd like to have a further talk with that agent before we set out to make other inquiries." this tom was able to bring about some time later that day. the agent informed the lad that mr. raymond, contrary to his expectations, had arrived only the day before. where he had been delayed since arriving in europe was not made clear. "but was my father in the building at the time the shell struck here?" asked tom. "that's what i want to know." of this the man could not be certain. he had seen mr. raymond, he said, an hour or so before the bombardment, and the inventor was, at that time, in his room. then he had gone out, but whether he had come back and was in the house when the shell struck the place, could not be said with certainty. but if he had been in his apartment there was little chance that he had been left alive, for the explosion occurred very near his room, destroying everything. tom hoped, later, to find some of his father's effects. "there is just a chance, jack," said the inventor's son, "that he wasn't in his room." "a good chance, i should say," agreed the other. "even if he had returned to his room, and that's unlikely, he may have run out at the sound of the first explosion, to see what it was all about." "i'm counting on that. if he was out he is probably alive now. but if he was in his room--" "there would be some trace of him," finished jack. "and that's what we've got to find." the police and soldiers were only too willing to assist tom in his search for his father. the ruins, they said, would be carefully gone over in an endeavor to get a piece of the german shell to ascertain its nature and the kind of gun that fired it. during that search some trace might be found of mr. raymond. it did not take long to establish one fact--that the inventor's body was not among the dead carried out. nor was he numbered with the injured in the hospitals. careful records had been kept, and no one at all answering to his description had been taken out or cared for. and yet, of course, there was the nerve-racking possibility that he might have been so terribly mutilated that his body was beyond all human semblance. the place where his room had been was a mass of splintered wood and crumbled masonry. there was none of his effects discernible, and tom did not know what to think. "we've just got to wait," he said to jack, late that afternoon, when their search of the hospitals and morgues had ended fruitlessly. meanwhile the french airmen had been scouring the sky for a sight of the german craft that might have released the death-dealing bombs on the city. but their success had been nil. not a hun had been sighted, and one aviator went up nearly four miles in an endeavor to locate a hostile craft. of course it was possible that a super-machine of the huns had flown higher, but this did not seem feasible. "there is some other explanation of the bombardment of paris, i'm sure," said tom, as he and jack went to their lodgings. "it will be a surprise, too, i'm thinking, and we'll have to make over some of our old ideas and accept new ones." "i believe you're right, tom. but say, do you remember that fellow we saw in the train--the one i thought was a german spy?" "to be sure i remember him and his _metzel suppe_. what about him? do you see him again?" and tom looked out into the street from the window of their lodging. "no. i don't see him. but he may have had something to do with shelling the city." "you don't mean he carried a long-range gun in his pocket, do you, jack?" and tom smiled for the first time since the awful tragedy. "no, of course not. still he may have known it was going to happen, and have come to observe the effect and report to his beastly masters." "he'd be foolish to come to paris and run the chance of being hit by his own shells." "unless he knew just where they were going to fall," said jack. "you have a reason for everything, i see," remarked tom. "well, the next time we go to headquarters we'll find out what they learned of this fellow. you know we started the secret service agents on his trail." "yes, i know. well, i was just sort of wondering if he had anything to do with the bombardment of paris. you've got to look for german spies now, even under your bed at night." the boys felt they could do nothing more that day toward finding mr. raymond. a more detailed and careful search of the ruins might reveal something. until this was accomplished nothing could be done. they ate a late supper, without much in the way of appetites, it must be confessed, and then went out in the streets of paris. there seemed to be few signs of war, aside from the many soldiers, and even the bombardment of a few hours earlier appeared to have been forgotten. but of course there was grief in many hearts. it was early the next morning, when tom and jack were getting ready to go back to the ruins in the rue lafayette, that, as they left their lodgings, they heard in the air above them the familiar sounds of aeroplanes in flight, and the faint popping of machine guns, to which was added the burst of shrapnel. "look!" cried jack. "it's a battle in the air. the huns are making another raid. now we'll see how they bomb the city." but it did not turn out to be that sort of raid. the german craft were flying low, apparently to get a view of the havoc wrought the day before. possibly photographs were being taken. but the french aeroplanes were ready for the foe, and at once arose to give battle, while the anti-aircraft guns roared out a stern order to retreat. it was a battle above the city and, more than once, tom and jack wished they could be in it. "we'll have to get back to our hangars soon," mused tom, as they watched the fight. "we can't be slackers, even if i can't find my father," he added bravely. the french planes were too much for the germans, and soon drove them back beyond the hun lines, though perhaps not before the enemy aviators had made the observations desired. "well, they didn't see much," remarked jack. "as far as any real damage was done to paris it doesn't count, from a military standpoint." "no, you're right," agreed tom. "of course they have killed some noncombatants, but that seems to be the boche's principal form of amusement. as for getting any nearer to the capture of paris this way, he might as well throw beans at the pyramids. it's probably done for the moral, or immoral, effect." and this seemed to be the view taken of it by the paris and london papers. the method of bombardment, however, remained a mystery, and a baffling one. this was a point the military authorities wished to clear up. to that end it was much to be desired that fragments of the shell should be found. and to find them, if possible, a careful search was made, not only in the ruins of the rue lafayette, but at the other two places where the explosions had occurred. in no place, however, was a large enough fragment found to justify any conclusive theories, and the parisians were forced to wait for another bombardment--rather a grim and tense waiting it was, too. but the careful search of the rue lafayette ruins proved one thing. the body of tom's father was not among them, though this did not make it certain that he was alive. he may have been totally destroyed, and this thought kept tom from being able to free his mind of anxiety. he dared not cable any news home, and all he could do was to keep on hoping. these were anxious days for him and jack. their leave of absence had been for a week only, but under the circumstances, and as it was exceptionally quiet on their sector, they were allowed to remain longer. tom wanted to make a more thorough search for his father, and the police and military authorities helped him. but mr. raymond seemed to have completely disappeared. there was no trace of him since the agent for the rue lafayette buildings had seen him leave his room just prior to the falling of the shell. jack inquired about the man he suspected of being a german spy. the secret service men had him under observation, they reported, but, as yet, he had not given them any cause to arrest him. they were waiting and watching. meanwhile active preparations were under way, not only to discover the source of the bombardment of paris, but to counteract it. extra anti-aircraft guns, of powerful calibre, were erected in many places about the city, and more airmen were summoned to the defense. as yet there had been no resumption of the bombardment, and there were hopes that the german machine, whatever it was, had burst or been put out of commission. but on the second day of the second week of the boys' stay in paris, once more there was the alarm and the warning-from the soldiers and police, and again came that explosion. the bombardment of paris was being renewed! chapter ix various theories two things were at once apparent to tom and jack as they hurried out of their _pension_. one was that the people of paris were not seeking shelter after the warnings as quickly as they had done at first, and the other was that there was evident curiosity on all sides to see just what damage would be done, and from which direction it would come. with an almost reckless disregard for their safety, if not for their lives, the parisians fairly flocked out of doors to see the results of the huns' bombardment. it was in vain that the police and military urged them to seek safety in cellars or the places provided. this time only one shell fell near enough to tom and jack to make the explosion heard, and that was so faint as to indicate that it was some distance off. what damage had been done could only be guessed at. "but we'll find out where it is, and go take a look," said jack. "maybe it'll hit right around here if we stay," suggested his chum. "well, i'm not taking that chance," jack went on. "let's find out where it landed this time." this they could do through their acquaintance with the military authority of the district where they were then staying. a telephonic report was at once received, giving the quarter where the shell had landed. it had fallen in one of the public squares, and though a big hole had been torn in the ground and pavement, and several persons killed and wounded, no material damage had been done. as for any military effect of the shell, it was nil. the firing was done in the early evening hours, and tom and jack learned that, almost to the second, the shots were fifteen minutes apart. there was one theory that an underground passage had been made in some manner to within a comparatively few miles of paris, and from that point an immense mortar sent up the shells in a long trajectory. another theory was that traitors had let the germans through the french lines at a certain place, so they could get near enough to paris to bombard it. and of course the gigantic airship theory had its adherents. but, for a time at least, no one would admit the possibility of a gun with range sufficient to shoot into paris from the nearest german lines. the range, sixty-odd miles, seemed too great for practical belief, however nicely it might work out in theory. "and you must remember that the gun, if gun it is, couldn't be in the very first german line," said tom, who had studied ordnance. "it must be at least ten miles back, to allow for sufficient protection from the french guns. that would make it shoot about seventy-two miles, and i don't believe any gun on earth could do it!" "neither do i," added jack. "we've got to dope out something else. but this isn't finding your father, tom." "i know it, and i don't mind admitting i'm clean discouraged about him, jack. if he's alive why doesn't he send me some word? he must know where i am, and, even if he doesn't know i'm in paris, they would forward any message he might send to our aeroplane headquarters." "that's right. but what are you going to do about it?" "i hardly know. he may still be in paris, but it's such a big city that it's hard to find him. then, too, i'm thinking of something else." "what's that, tom?" "well, dad may not want us to know where he is." "why in the world would he want such a thing as that?" "well, he might be followed, or bothered by spies. perhaps he has come over to do some special work for the french or english army people. maybe a spy was after him just before the big german gun wrecked his rue lafayette house. he may have considered this a good chance to play dead, and that's why he doesn't send some word to me." "that's a good theory. but it isn't very comforting." "no, but there isn't much comfort in war times. we've got to make the best of it." "i guess you're right, tom. now do you want to go look at the latest work of the hun?" "might as well. the bombardment seems over for the night." "i wonder why it is they don't fire after dark." "probably afraid of giving the location of their cannon away by the flashes. they'd be seen at night; but during the day, if they used smokeless powder, or a smoke screen in case they can't get smokeless powder for such a big gun, it would be hard to locate the place where the shots come from. so we're comparatively safe after dark, it seems." later this was not to prove to be the case, but it was when tom spoke. the boys went to the section of the city in which the last shells had fallen. while comparatively little damage had been done, a number of persons had been killed and injured, children among them. some fragments of the shells were picked up, but not enough to make certain any particular theory in regard to the gun. "but if it's a gun, where could it be placed?" queried tom of an officer. "the germans haven't broken through, have they?" the french officer shook his head. "no. and please god they will never get through," he said. "but there is a gun somewhere, i am sure of that." "do you mean to say within ten or fifteen miles of paris?" jack wanted to know. "i can not be sure. it is true there may have been traitors. we have them to contend with as well as spies. but our line is intact, and at no point along it, near enough to it to fire into paris from an ordinary gun, can the germans be found." "then it must be an extraordinary gun," suggested jack. "it may well be--perhaps it is. yet, as i said, there may have been traitors. there may be a gun concealed somewhere closer to paris than we dream. but we shall find it, messieurs! who knows? perhaps you may be the very ones yourselves to locate it, for we are depending on you soldiers of the air." and it was not long before this talk came back to tom and jack with impressive recollection. and meanwhile the bombardment of paris went on, usually during the late afternoon or early morning hours--never at night, as yet. yet with all the frightfulness of which the unscrupulous huns were capable, it was impossible to dampen for long the spirits of the french. soon they grew almost to disregard the falling shells from the hidden german gun. of course there were buildings destroyed, and lives were lost, while many were frightfully maimed. but if germany depended on this, as she seemed to, to strike terror to the hearts of the brave frenchmen the while a great offensive was going on along the western front, it failed. for the people of paris did not allow themselves to be disheartened, any more than the people of london did when the zeppelins raided them. indeed one paris paper even managed to extract some humor out of the grim situation. for one day, following the bombardment, a journal appeared with "scare" headlines, telling about eleven "lives" being lost. but when one read the account it was discovered that the lives were those of chickens. and this actually happened. a shell fell on the outlying section and blew up a henhouse, killing nearly a dozen fowls and blowing a big hole in the ground. there were other occasions, too, when the seemingly superhuman bombardment was not worth the proverbial candle. for the shells fell in sections where no damage was done, and where no lives paid the toll. once a shell went through a house, passing close to an aged woman, but not hurting her, to explode harmlessly in a field near by. and it was with such accounts as these that the paris papers kept up the spirits of the inhabitants. meanwhile the germans kept firing away at quarter-hour intervals, when the gun was in action. "i wonder if there is any chance of us getting in at the game?" questioned jack of tom one night. "i shouldn't be surprised. as that officer said, they'll have to depend on the aircraft to locate the gun, i'm thinking." "and you think we have a chance?" "i don't see why not," replied tom. "we've been off duty long enough. i'd like to get back behind the propeller again, and with a drum or two of bullets to use in case we sight a hun plane. let's go and send word to our captain that we've had enough of leave, and want to go out again." "all right. but what about your father?" "well, i don't know what to say," answered tom. "i'm about convinced that he wasn't killed, or even hurt, in any of the bombardments of paris. but where he is i don't know. i guess, as a matter of duty to france, i'll have to let my private affairs go and--" at that instant there sounded an explosion the character of which the two boys well knew by this time. "the big gun again!" cried jack. "yes, and they're firing after dark!" added tom. "this may be just the chance the airmen have been waiting for--to locate the piece by the flashes. come on out and see what's doing!" together they rushed from their room. chapter x the "dud" much the same sort of scene was going on in the streets of paris as tom and jack had witnessed when first the populace realized that they were under fire from a mysterious german cannon. there was the initial alarm--the warnings sounded by the police and soldiers, warnings which were different from those indicating a zeppelin or aircraft raid, and then the hurry for cover. but it was noticeable that not so many of the people rushed for a secure hiding place as had done so at first. "they're not so afraid of the big gun as they were," observed jack, as he hurried along with his chum. "no. though it's just as well to be a bit cautious, i think. the people of paris are beginning to lose fear because they see that the german shells don't do as much damage as might be expected." "you're right there, tom," said jack. "the shells are rather small, to judge by the damage they do. i wonder why that is?" "probably their gun, or guns, can't fire any larger ones such a long distance, or else their airships can't carry 'em up above the clouds to drop on the city." "then you still hold to the airship theory?" "well, jack, i haven't altogether given it up. i'm open to conviction, as it were. of course i know, in theory, a gun can be made that will shoot a hundred miles, if necessary, but the cost of it, the cost of the charge and the work of loading it, as well as the enormous task of making a carriage or an emplacement to withstand the terrific recoil, makes such a gun a military white elephant. in other words it isn't worth the trouble it would take--the amount of damage inflicted on the enemy wouldn't make it worth while." "i guess you're right, tom. and yet such a gun would make a big scare." "yes, and that's what the germans are depending on, more than anything else." "but still don't you think the french will have to do something toward silencing the gun?" "indeed i do! and i haven't a doubt but the french command is working night and day to devise some plan whereby the gun can be silenced." "there go the aviators now, out to try to find the big cannon," observed jack, as he gazed aloft. soaring over paris, having hastened to take the air when the signal was given, were a number of planes, their red, white and blue lights showing dimly against the black sky. they were off to try to place the big gun, if such it was, or discover whether or not some hun plane was hovering over the city, dropping the bombs. as jack and tom hastened on, in the wake of the crowd, which was hurrying toward the place where the latest shells had fallen, again came a distant explosion, showing that the gun had been fired again. "fifteen-minute interval," announced tom, looking at his watch. "they're keeping strictly to schedule." "night firing is new for the big gun," said jack. "i do hope they'll be able to locate the cannon by the flashes." "it isn't going to be easy," asserted tom. "why not?" "because you can make up your mind if the germans were afraid to fire the piece at night at first for fear of being discovered, and if now they are firing after dark, they have some means of camouflaging the flash. in other words they have it hidden in some way." "well, i suppose you're right. but say, tom, old man! what wouldn't i give to be able to be up in the air with those boys now?" and jack motioned to the scouts who were flitting around in the dark clouds, seeking for that which menaced the chief city of the french nation. "i'd like to be there myself," said tom. "and if this keeps up much longer i'm going to ask permission for us to go up and see what we can do." "think they'll let us?" "well, they can't any more than turn us down. and we've got to get at it in a hurry, too, or we'll have to report back at our regular station. we aren't doing anything here, except sit around." "no, we must get busy, that's a fact," said jack. "it's about time we downed some hun scout, or broke up one of their 'circus' attacks. i've almost forgotten how a joy stick feels." a "joy stick" is a contrivance on an aeroplane by the manipulation of which the plane is held on a level keel. if the joy stick control is released, either by accident (say when the pilot is wounded in a fight), or purposely, the plane at once begins to climb, caking its passenger out of danger. once the joy stick is released it gradually comes back toward the pilot. the machine climbs until the angle formed is too great for it to continue, or for the motor to pull it. then it may stop for an instant when the motor, being heavier, pulls the plane over and there begins the terrible "nose spinning dive," from which there is no escape unless the pilot gets control of his machine again, or manages to reach the joy stick. "well, we'll have to get in the game again soon," said tom. "but what do you say to taking a taxi? this explosion is farther than i thought." jack agreed, and they were soon at the place where the last german shell had fallen--that is as near as the police would permit. a house had been struck, and several persons, two of them children, killed. but, as before, the military damage done was nothing. the germans might be spreading their gospel of fear, but they were not advancing their army that way. as tom and jack stood near the place where a hole had been blown through the house, another explosion, farther off, was heard, and there was a momentary flare in the sky that told of the arrival of another shell. for a few seconds there was something like a panic, and then a voice struck up the "marseillaise," and the crowd joined in. it was their defiance to the savage hun. a few shots were fired by the germans, but none of them did much damage, and then, as though operating on a schedule which must not, under any circumstances, be changed, the firing ceased, and the crowds once more filled the streets, for it was yet early in the night. the next morning the boys went to report, as they did each day, expecting that they might be called back to duty. they also found, after being told that their leave was still in effect, that some of the aviators who had gone up the night before, to try to locate the german gun, were on hand. "now we can ask them what they saw," suggested jack. "that's what we will," assented tom. but the airmen had nothing to report. they had ascended high in search of a hostile craft carrying a big gun, but had seen none. they had journeyed far over the german lines, hoping to discover the emplacement of the gun, if a long range cannon was being used. but they saw nothing. "not even flashes of fire?" asked tom. "oh, yes, we saw those," an aviator said. "but there were so many of them, and in so many and such widely scattered places, that we could not tell which one to bomb. we did manage to hit some, though with what effect we could not tell." "then the german gun is still a mystery," observed tom. "it is. but we shall discover it soon. we will never rest until we do!" so more and new and different theories continued to be put forth regarding the big cannon, if such it was. ordnance experts wrote articles, alike in london, paris, and new york, explaining that it was possible for a cannon to be within the german lines and still send a shell into the french capital. but few believed that it was feasible. the general opinion was that the gun was of comparative short range, and was hidden much nearer paris than the sixty or seventy-odd miles away, beyond which stretched the german line of trenches. meanwhile tom, though making careful inquiries, had learned nothing of his father. he did not feel it would be wise to cable back home, and ask what the news was there. "it might spoil dad's plans if i did that," said tom to his chum, "and it would worry the folks in bridgeton to know that i haven't yet seen him in france. no, i'll just have to wait." and wait tom did, though there is no harder task in all the world. it was one morning, after a night bombardment on the part of the germans, that jack, who had been out for a morning paper, came rushing into the room where tom was just awakening. "great news, old man! great!" cried jack, waving the paper about his head. "you mean about a victory?" asked tom. "no, not exactly, though it may lead to that. and it isn't any news about your father, i'm sorry to say. it's about the german gun. a 'dud' fell last night." "a 'dud'?" repeated tom, hardly sensing what jack said. "yes, you know! a shell that didn't explode. now they have a whole one to examine, and they can find out what sort of gun shot it. this paper tells all about it. come on! let's go for a look at the 'dud'!" chapter xi a monster cannon tom, dressing hastily, read the account in the paris paper of the fall, in an outlying section of the city, of one of the german shells that failed to explode. it was being examined by the military authorities, it was stated, with a view to finding out what sort of gun fired it, so that measures might be taken to blow up the piece or render it useless to the enemy. "that sounds good to me," said tom, as they made a hasty breakfast. "this is getting down to a scientific basis. an unexploded shell ought to give 'em a line on the kind of gun that fired it." "the only trouble," said jack, "is that the shell may go off when they are examining it." "oh, trust the french ordnance experts not to let a thing like that happen," said tom. "now let's go to it." it was fortunate that tom and jack wore the uniforms that had so endeared them to france, or they might have had difficulty in gaining admittance to the bureau where the unexploded shell was under process of investigation. but when they first applied, their request was referred to a grizzled veteran who smiled kindly at them, patted them on the shoulders, called them the saviors of france, and ushered them into the ordnance department, where special deputies were in conference. "yes, we have one of the boche shells," said an officer, who spoke english fluently, for which tom and jack were glad. they could speak and understand french, but in a case like this, where they wanted a detailed and scientific explanation, their own tongue would better serve them. "and can you tell from what sort of gun it comes?" asked tom. "it was fired from a monster cannon," was the answer. "that is a cannon not so much a monster in bore, as in length and in its power to impel a missile nearly eighty miles." "can it be done?" asked jack. "it has been done!" exclaimed major de trouville, the officer who was detailed to talk to the boys "it has been done. that is the gun that has been bombarding paris." "but, from a military standpoint," began tom, "is it--" "it is utterly useless," was the quick answer. "come, i will show you the shell." he led them to an apartment set aside for the testing of explosives and working out ordnance problems, and there on a table, around which sat many prominent french officials, was the german shell--the "dud," as jack had called it. "the charge has been drawn," explained major de trouville, "so there is no danger. and we have determined that the manner in which shots reach paris from a distance of from seventy to eighty miles is by the use of a sub-calibre missile." "a sub-calibre?" murmured tom. "yes. you know, in general, that the more powder you use, and the larger the surface of the missile which receives it, the greater distance it can be thrown, providing your angle of elevation is proper." the boys understood this much, in theory at least. "well," went on the major, "while that is true, there is a limit to it. that is to say you could go on using powder up to hundreds of pounds in your cannon, but when you get to a certain point you have to so increase the length of the gun, and the size of the breech to make it withstand the terrific pressure of gases, that it is impracticable to go any further. so, also, in the case of the shell. if you make it too large, so as to get a big surface area for the gases of the burning powder to act upon, you get your shell too heavy to handle. "now of course the lighter a missile is, the farther it will go, in comparison to a heavy one with the same force behind it. but you can not get lightness and sufficient resistance to pressure without size, and here is where the sub-calibre comes in." "in other words the germans have been firing a shell within a shell," broke in another officer. "exactly," said major de trouville. "the germans have evolved a big gun, that is big as regards length, to enable the missile they fire from it to gain enough impulse from the powder. but the missile would be too large to travel all the way to paris. so they use two. the inner one is the one that really gets here and explodes." "what becomes of the outer?" asked jack. "it is a sort of container, or collar, and falls off soon after the shell leaves the big gun. if you will imagine a sort of bomb shell being enclosed in an iron case, the whole being put in a gun and fired, you will better get the idea. the outer case is made in two or more pieces, and soon after it is shot out it falls away, leaving the smaller missile to travel on. but here is where the cunning of the invention comes in. the smaller missile has all the impetus given the larger one, but without its weight. in consequence it can travel through eighty miles of atmosphere, finally reaching paris, where it explodes." "wonderful!" exclaimed jack. "and yet it is merely the adaptation of an old theory," went on the major. "we have known of the sub-calibre theory for years, but it is not practicable. so we did not try it. the cost is too great for the amount of military damage done. and this shell, as you will see, is composed of two parts, each with a separate explosive chamber, each containing, as we discovered, a different sort of explosive. in this way if one did not go off, the other would, and so set off the one that failed. it is very clever, but we shall be more clever." "that's right!" chimed in a chorus of fellow officers. "we'll find the gun and destroy it--or all of them if they have more than one, as they probably have," went on the major. he showed the boys where the shell had chambers for the time fuses to work, much as in a shrapnel shell, which can be set to go off so many minutes or so many seconds after it reaches its objective point. "and so the great question is settled by the failure of this shell to explode," went on the major. "as soon as we saw it, and noted the absence of the rifling groove marks, we knew it must have been a sub-calibre matter. the rest was easy to figure out. "some of us thought there might be a big airship, stationed high above the clouds, dropping bombs. others inclined to the theory of a double shell; that is, after one had been fired from the cannon it would travel, say, half way and then explode a charge which would impel another shell toward paris. a sort of cannon within a cannon, so to speak. but this is not so. nor did the theory of a shell with a sort of propeller device, like that of a torpedo, prove to be right. it is much simpler--just sub-calibre work." "and what is going to be done about it?" asked tom. "i mean how can the monster cannon be silenced?" "ah, that is a matter we are taking up now," was the answer of major de trouville. "i fancy we shall have to call on you boys for a solution of that problem." "on us?" exclaimed jack. "well, i mean on the aircraft service. it will be their task to search out this great german cannon for us, to enable our gunners to destroy it. or it may be that it will have to be bombed from an aeroplane." "that's the task i'd like all right!" cried tom, with shining eyes. "same here!" echoed jack. "do you suppose we'll get a chance?" he asked eagerly. "you may," was the reply. "it may take all the resources of our airmen to destroy this terror of the germans. but it will be done, never fear!" "_vive la france!_" cried his companions, and there was a cheer in which tom and jack joined. and so a part of the secret was discovered. it was a monster cannon that was devastating paris. a great gun, the construction of which could only be guessed at. but it must be destroyed! that was certain! chapter xii for perilous service tom and jack spent some little time looking at the strange german shell. it was of peculiar construction, arranged so that the two explosive charges would detonate together or separately, according as the mechanism was set. but in this case it had failed to work, and the shell, falling in a bed of soft sand, near some new buildings which were going up, had not been fired by concussion, as might have happened. "and it was just french luck that it didn't go off," observed jack. "that's right," agreed tom. "if they hadn't had this whole shell to examine they wouldn't know about the big gun." so all the theories, fantastic enough some of them, about great airships hovering over the beautiful city, and dropping bombs from a great height, were practically disproved. "well, now that you have decided it is a big german gun, the next question is, where is it and what are you going to do about it?" observed tom, for he and jack had been made so much of by the french officers that they felt quite at home, so to speak. "ah, messieurs, that _is_ the question," declared major de trouville. "first to find the gun, and then to destroy it. the first we can do with some degree of accuracy." "how?" asked tom. the major went to a large map hanging on the wall of the room. it showed the country around paris and the various lines as they had been moved to and fro along the western front, according as the germans advanced or retreated. "you will observe," said the major, "that by describing an arc, with paris as the center of the circle, and a radius of about seventy-five miles, you will include a small sector of the german trenches. roughly speaking this arc will extend from about hamegicourt to condé, both within the german lines, i am sorry to say. now then, somewhere in this arc, or perhaps back of it, the german gun is placed. anywhere else where it would be possible for such a monster engine of war to be erected, would bring it too close to our batteries. "so that gives us the comparative location of the gun," went on the french officer. "but the next question is not so easy to settle--how to get rid of it. as i said, i think we shall have to depend on you airmen." "well, we're for the job!" exclaimed tom. "i know you are. and it may fall to you, or to your friends. i will talk of that later." "have you been able to get any idea of the kind of gun it is, or why it fires at fifteen minute intervals?" asked jack. "we have been able to get no really reliable information save that which we deduce by our observations of this shell and from what we know of the location of our own and the german lines," the major went on. "up to now our airmen have not been able to penetrate far enough without being attacked, and such few as did get well over toward the rhine could make out nothing. i have no doubt the gun is well camouflaged." "and is it true that it doesn't fire at night because the germans are afraid the flashes will be seen?" asked tom. "that may have been the reason at first, but they have fired at night, of late, so they must have some way of concealing the flashes, or perhaps setting off other flashes at the same time so as to confuse our scouts." "it's going to be some job," murmured jack. "you said something," agreed his chum. they remained talking a little longer, and some of the officers who knew the reason for tom's visit to paris, expressed regret that he had no information as yet about his father. "but take heart," one told him. "he is not dead, or we should have heard of it. of course he may have fallen into the hands of the germans, and then we would not know for some time." "he may have been caught," agreed tom. "while tuessig is out of the game on account of his injuries, he may be able to direct potzfeldt, and that scoundrel would have good reason for trying to get revenge on us." "ah, yes, i heard about your rescue of the young lady and her mother," said the major. "it was a brave deed." "oh, any one could have done it," said tom, modestly. "and have you seen them since they came to paris?" the major proceeded. "no, but i wish we could find them!" burst out jack, and then he blushed at his impetuosity, while tom murmured something about "bessie," and jack promptly told him to hold his tongue. "perhaps you may meet them sooner than you expect," went on the french officer. "now i wonder what he could have meant by that?" asked jack, as he and his chum went out, after a final look at the german shell. "does he know where they are?" "it wouldn't be surprising, seeing that mrs. gleason is probably in red cross work, and bessie may be helping her. we should have looked them up before," went on tom. "but what with searching for my father, and the excitement about the bombardment, i really forgot all about them." jack did not say whether he had or not, the chances being that he had, more than once, thought of bessie gleason. during the next two days the monster cannon continued to shoot shells at intervals into paris. some did considerable damage, as any shell would do in a great city, and many unfortunates were killed. but there was no reign of terror such as, undoubtedly, the boches hoped to create. paris remained calm, and there were even jokes made about the cannon. it was called a "bertha" and other names, the former referring to bertha krupp, one of the owners of the great german ordnance works. word was given out that the french gunners on the front were trying to reach the big gun with their missiles. but as they were firing blindly it could not be said what havoc had been wrought. "but, sooner or later, we'll get the range, and get within striking distance," said one of the french officers. "then we'll show them a trick or two." "have the aviators done anything toward trying to find the gun?" asked tom. "i mean anything more." "we are perfecting our plans for the flying corps," was the answer. "perhaps you shall know more in a few days." "well, i hope we'll be here when the fun begins," said tom, grimly. "we've got another extension of leave, and i'm going to ask the police now, to co-operate with the military in seeking my father." "i think that will be a wise plan. we will give you all the help we can." but the quest for mr. raymond seemed a hopeless one, and as no confirmation could be had of his death or injury, the idea gradually became fixed in the minds of tom and jack that he had been made a german prisoner. "if that is so, and i can get any trace of him, i'll go over the rhine to get him back," snapped tom. "and i'll go with you!" declared his chum. it was a few days after they had inspected the german "dud," and the boys were wondering what new developments might take place, the shelling of paris meanwhile continuing at intervals, that one evening the boys were visited in their lodgings by major de trouville. "is there any news?" eagerly asked tom, for he guessed that the french officer would not be paying a merely social call. those were the strenuous days when such things had passed. "well, yes, news of a sort," was the answer. "but what i came to find out was whether you were so taken with these lodgings that you could not be induced to move." "to move!" exclaimed jack. "yes. have you found anything unhealthful here?" "why, no," replied tom, wonderingly. "we like it here. the landlord couldn't be nicer, and we're in a good location." "nevertheless, i fear i shall have to ask you to change your quarters," went on the major, and by the quizzical smile on his face the boys guessed that there was something in the wind. "let me ask you another question," went on the french officer. "have you been annoyed since you have been here?" "annoyed? how?" inquired tom. "by unwelcome visitors, or by strangers." the boys thought for a moment. "there's one chap who lives in the same building here, whom we've seen on our staircase several times," said jack, slowly. "once i saw him pause at our door with a key, as though he were going to enter, but he heard me coming, and, muttering that he had taken too much wine and was a bit hazy in his memory, he went on upstairs." "i thought as much," the major said. "was the man you speak of familiar to you?" "no, i can't say that he was," replied jack, and tom nodded his acquiescence. "i never saw him before." "oh, yes you have," and the major smiled. "i have? where?" "on the train, coming into paris." "you mean the german spy?" cried jack. "the same," answered the frenchman. "that's just what he is, and he is spying on you. now, in view of what is going to happen, we don't want that to go on. so i have come to ask you to change your lodgings, and i think i can take you to one that will be most agreeable to you both." "but what does all this mean?" asked tom. "is there----" "there is 'something doing' as you say so picturesquely in the united states," interrupted the major. "i have come to tell you that you are to undertake a most perilous mission!" chapter xiii the spy tom raymond and jack parmly looked first at one another and then at the major. he had been smiling at their wonderment, but he was now serious, and regarded them gravely. "do you mean we have to do something to help catch this spy?" asked tom. "i'd like a hand in that!" exclaimed jack. "i saw him first--he's my meat!" "well, get him if you can, boys," said the frenchman. "but i did not come here to talk so much about him as about yourselves. the spy is a danger and a menace, but we know him and if he goes too far we can put out our hands and drag him back. "no, what i referred to is more dangerous than merely trying to catch a spy at his sneaking work. i will tell you." the major suddenly left his seat near the window of the boy's room, and quickly opened the door leading to the hall. the passage was empty. "i rather thought there might be an eavesdropper," the major explained. "i was followed here, though i don't believe the spies know my mission. however, it is best to be careful. with your permission i'll pull down the shade. there may be spies stationed across the street who, with powerful glasses, might look through the window and gather something of what we say by reading our lips. it has been done." "the germans don't leave much untried," commented tom. "but what is it you want us to do, if it isn't trying to trail the spy?" the major motioned them to draw closer to him, and then, leaving the door into the hall open, so that he could note the approach of any one, he whispered: "you are to be two members of a picked company of air scouts who are to go out, discover the big german gun, and destroy it!" "whew!" whistled tom, after a moment of thought during which he and jack exchanged quick glances. "well?" asked the officer. "how does that strike you? i believe that is another of your captivating terms?" "it's all to the good!" exclaimed jack. "what say, tom? we'll take that on, won't we?" "well, i should say!" was the enthusiastic rejoinder. "when do we start to--" "hush!" cautioned the major. "not so loud. though we have taken every precaution, there may be spies unseen by us. we had better talk no more about it here." "then let's go to our new lodgings, if we are to move," suggested tom. "will it be safe to talk there?" "i think so," the major said. "at least you will be among friends. not that your landlord here is not a true frenchman; but he can not control the actions of those to whom he lets lodgings. you will be better where you are going. then you accept the mission?" he asked in another whisper. "sure thing!" answered tom, while jack nodded his assent. "the sooner the quicker!" "i do not quite get that," the major confessed with a smile. "but i think i gather your meaning. now if you will proceed to this address," and he handed tom a small slip of paper, "you will find a comfortable lodging, and you will be among friends." "how soon can we start on--on this mission?" asked tom. "it will be better not to refer to it directly," the officer said. "talk as little about it as you can. but you shall go as soon as the arrangements can be made. you will be notified." "and what about seeing our friends--mrs. gleason?" asked jack. "are you sure its _mrs._. gleason you want to see?" inquired tom. "oh, cut it out!" advised jack with a blush. "you may see them soon now," the major told him with a smile. "and i hope you'll soon have good news of your father," he added to tom. "i hope so, too. the suspense is telling on me." "i should think it would. now don't leave this bit of paper about with the address of your new lodgings on. better commit it to memory, and then destroy the sheet. we want, if possible, to prevent the spy from knowing where you have gone. i will call a taxicab for you. you can be packed soon, i suppose?" he questioned. "within a half hour," answered jack. "but say, won't that spy be on the watch, and won't he learn from the taxicab driver where we have gone?" "not from _this_ taxicab driver," was the smiling answer. "he is one of our best secret service men. but treat him as you would an ordinary chauffeur. you may even give him a tip, and he will not be offended," and once more the major smiled. tom and jack, having made sure they remembered the address given them, destroyed the paper, and then proceeded to get ready to move. meanwhile major de trouville took his departure, promising to keep in communication with the air service boys. punctual to the half hour a taxicab appeared at the door. the boys obeyed the instructions they had received, and looked out to make sure the spy was not on hand. if he was, he was well concealed, for they did not see him. "though i suppose he's somewhere around," said jack. "well, maybe we can fool him," suggested tom. "we're going quite on the other side of paris." they made sure that, as far as could be told by observation, there was no one resembling the spy around the place or in the street in front, and then got into the cab with their baggage. the chauffeur seemed not to know them, but tom thought there was just the slightest wink of one eye, as though to indicate that the game was going well. their cab was driven out along the boulevard ragenta, past the gare du nord, and across the boulevard de rochechquart to a small street running off the rue ramey, and there the cab stopped in front of a small but neat-looking house. "quiet enough neighborhood," remarked jack, as they got down, and tom tipped the cabman for the benefit of any spies who might be looking. "yes, i guess we can get some sleep here, if the big gun doesn't keep us awake," agreed tom. on the way they had passed several places where the havoc of the "bertha" was noticeable. tom and jack seemed to be expected, for the porter, who came down to get their bags, did not seem at all surprised to see them. he bade them follow him, and a little later, the cab having chugged off, the boys were settled in a pleasant room, a smiling landlady coming in to see if they wanted anything, and to tell them they could have meals with her at certain hours, or they might dine out as they pleased. "your friends will be here shortly," she added. "our friends?" questioned tom. "yes," with a nod and a smile. "i was told to say they would be here shortly after you arrived." "oh, i guess she means the major and some of the officers will come to see how we are situated, and to tell us more about--the big stunt," said tom in english to his chum, assuming that "big stunt" would sufficiently disguise to any listening spies, if such there were, the real object that lay before them. "i suppose that's who she means," agreed jack, as the landlady, who gave her name as madame reboux, withdrew. the boys were busy unpacking their few belongings, for they had not brought much to paris, not intending to stay long, when they heard voices in the hall outside their room. and at the tones of a certain voice tom and jack started and looked at one another. "listen!" exclaimed tom. "if i wasn't afraid you'd say i was dreaming, i'd say i knew that voice!" murmured jack. "i'd say the same," added tom. "who would you say it was?" his chum challenged. "well, for a starter--" he paused, for the voice sounded more plainly now, and it said: "yes, this is the right place, mother. oh, do you think the boys are here yet?" "it surely will be a pleasure to meet them again," said another voice, evidently that of a woman, the other having been a girl's. "i hope they won't have forgotten us," the girl went on, and at that jack could no longer keep quiet. he rushed to the door, opened it, and cried: "bessie! is that you?" "oh, it's jack! mother, here's jack!" cried the girl, and she and her mother were soon shaking hands with tom and jack. "so, you two were the friends we were soon to see!" exclaimed tom, as he placed chairs for mrs. gleason and her daughter. or, to be exact, tom placed a chair for the mother, while jack got one for bessie. "yes, we were told you would be here," said bessie's mother. "we did not know you were in paris until we received word that it would be better for us to change our lodging and come here." "the same word we received," said jack. "say, it's working out mighty queer, isn't it, tom?" "yes, but very satisfactorily, i should say. things couldn't be nicer. how have you been?" he asked, for he had not seen the girl nor her mother since the sensational rescue from the perfidious carl potzfeldt. "very well indeed," answered mrs. gleason. "both bessie and i have been doing red cross work. but isn't that great german gun terrible? oh, how it has killed and maimed the poor women and children! the huns are fiends!" "i quite agree with you," said tom, jack meanwhile talking to bessie. "but it isn't doing them the military good they thought it would, and, if all goes well, it may not very long do them any service at all." "you mean--" began mrs. gleason. but just then bessie, who had arisen to go to the window to view the street, turned back with a start, and grasped jack's hand. "look! look!" she whispered, and through the curtains she pointed to a man on the opposite side of the way. "do you know him?" asked jack. "know him? yes, to my sorrow." "who is it?" asked tom. "the spy!" exclaimed jack. "the man we saw in the train, and the same fellow who tried to get into our lodgings. in spite of our precautions he has found out where we are." "i'm not so sure of that," said tom. "he may not be here for any particular purpose. but do you know him too, bessie?" "yes," the girl answered. "he was in the château where mother and i were held prisoners by potzfeldt. he is a tool in the pay of that spy, and a spy himself!" "then we ought to do something!" exclaimed jack, and he started to rush from the room. chapter xiv with comrades again "hold on! wait a minute!" exclaimed tom, as he caught hold of his chum. "where are you going?" "out to give warning to a policeman or to some army officer about that spy!" exclaimed jack. "we know him to be such, and now, with bessie's word that he was with potzfeldt, it's enough to cause his arrest." "yes, maybe it is," agreed tom, who was a bit more cautious than his impetuous chum. "but if we do that we may spoil the plans of major de trouville. better let matters take their course, jack. that spy may not know we are here, and again, he may. but if he doesn't, rushing out now would be sure to give the secret away. as it is, there is a chance we may keep it." jack, caught midway in his impetuous rush from the room, stood reflectively. what tom had said to him appeared to make an impression. then bessie added her words of advice. "yes, jack," she said, "i think it would be rather rash to go out now and confront that man, or start a chase after him. i know i'm not as experienced as you two famous birdmen," she went on with a smile, "but i've been through some terrible experiences, as almost every girl has in this war zone, and i can do more thinking than i used to. don't you think it would be wise to wait, mother?" "yes, bessie," answered mrs. gleason, "i do. our good friends in the military service who told us to come here, must have had some object. perhaps it was connected with this same man who was so unkind to us in the château, and who was certainly a tool of that man i trusted once, but never will again--carl potzfeldt!" and she shuddered as she thought of what she had gone through. "let him go," she said to jack. "perhaps it is just a coincidence that he is passing just as we arrive. our departure from our last lodgings was made secretly." "so was ours," said tom. "and yet i don't see how that spy found us so soon." "it is that which makes me think it is accidental," observed mrs. gleason. "it would be very unwise now to go out, i think." "all right, then i'll stay in," said jack with a smile. "especially as i have such good company. tell me," he went on, "are you and your mother going to board here?" he asked bessie. "yes," answered mrs. gleason. "and though we were told we would meet friends here we could not guess it would be you brave boys." "spare my blushes!" laughed tom. "same here," added jack. "but what brings you to paris?" asked bessie. "i thought you boys were engaging in combats above the clouds." "we have been fighting, though not during the last two weeks," said tom. "i had word that my father had come over here, but he never communicated with us, and we came to paris to look him up. so far we haven't succeeded in finding him," and he gave the details of the visit of himself and his chum to the capital, telling of their first experience during the firing of the big gun. bessie and jack, who seemed to have much to say to one another, peered from behind the curtains out of the window now and then, and jack at last reported that the spy had passed on, after stopping, apparently, to purchase some fruit at a stand on the street. "i don't believe he knew we were here," said bessie. "well, it won't do to take any chances," observed tom. "however, we were not told to remain under cover, so i suppose we can go out when we like." "better wait until we get some word from the major," suggested jack, who was getting some of his chum's caution. all decided this was best, and the boys spent the rest of the afternoon in getting their room to rights, mrs. gleason and bessie doing the same in their apartment. mrs. gleason had temporarily been relieved from red cross work to recuperate, she said, as she had been under a great strain. toward evening major de trouville, or "trouville," as he democratically liked to be called, arrived, and when told of the sight in the street of the spy, who turned out to be the same man who was one of the captors of bessie and her mother, the officer said: "i am not surprised. in fact i rather looked for that, and it is one reason why i wanted to get you four together so you could see the man at the same time. "there is now no doubt as to his intentions, and the fact that he was here so soon after you arrived proves that there is a 'leak' somewhere. we suspected as much, and i think i know where it is. it is good information to have. well, boys, did i surprise you?" he asked, smiling. "you did, indeed, but it was a pleasant surprise," said jack. "but when are we going to be allowed to do something to silence that monster cannon?" asked tom. "it's pleasant to be here, but we are not forgetting there is work to do." "nor would i have you forget," said the major. "a number of persons were killed to-day by fire from the long-range gun. we believe, now, that there are two or three of them, as the shots come at closer intervals. it is imperative that something be done, and so i have brought you orders." "good!" cried jack. "that sounds like business!" commented tom. "in regard to your father," went on the major, addressing jack's chum, "we will be on the watch for him, or any news of him, and, no matter where you are, unless you are captured by the germans, you shall be informed as soon as possible." "is there any chance of being made prisoners?" asked jack, and it might be noted that he did not use the word "danger." "there is always that chance for an airman," replied the major. "but when i add that it may be possible that one or both of you will take a flight over the rhine, you can judge, with the hold germany has on french possessions, what the danger is." "over the rhine!" exclaimed tom. "why, that's a flight of two or three hundred miles from paris." "yes, but with the new type of italian plane which you may use, it is not impossible in a single flight," said the major. "however, we will talk of that later. just now i have come to tell you that you are to rejoin your comrades at the lafayette escadrille for a time. there arrangements will be made for the perilous venture i spoke of--the silencing of the big guns that are bombarding paris. i wish you all success, young gentlemen." "thanks," murmured jack. "we consider it an honor to be picked for such duty," added tom. "are any others going to be in the game?" "oh, yes. we shall need a picked corps of the best airmen we have, french and americans, and it will be no easy matter then. the germans have probably been planning this for a long time, and they, no doubt, have taken every possible precaution against surprise or failure. but with the help of you brave americans we shall win!" "that's right!" chimed in bessie. "oh, how i wish i were a man!" and she looked enviously at jack and tom. the major gave bessie and her mother some instructions in regard to their actions should the spy come back, and then told tom and jack to prepare to leave paris the next night. "report to your former camp," he said, "and there you will find further instructions waiting for you." "well, then as we have to-night, our last one free, let's go to some entertainment," suggested tom to bessie and her mother. "we can have supper afterward--not much of a celebration, for these are war times and it won't do to rejoice too much. but we ought to commemorate this meeting somehow." "that's right!" agreed jack. so they went to a little play and had supper afterward in a quiet restaurant. that is, it was quiet until a sudden explosion a few blocks away announced the arrival of another german shell from the big gun, and then there was excitement enough. fortunately, however, the shots did little beyond material damage, no one being killed. at the same time, however, there appeared some german planes over paris, doubtless to observe the effect of the dropping of the long-distance shells, and naturally the french airmen went up to give them combat. the great searchlights began to play, picking out the hostile craft, and making them targets for the machine guns of the intrepid frenchmen, and more than one boche never got back over his lines again, while several frenchmen found heroes' graves on the soil they had died to defend. "oh, if we were only up there helping," said tom, as he and his friends watched. "we shall be there very soon," murmured jack. "and it can't be any too soon for me." the tide of battle turned in favor of the french, the hun planes withdrawing as the fire got too hot for them. and soon after that the long-range gun ceased firing. it was rather a "pull" for tom and jack to say good-bye to bessie and her mother in paris, but they knew they had to do their duty. nor would mrs. gleason and her daughter have kept the boys back for the world. they realized that the air service boys were helping to make the world safe for democracy, as they themselves were doing in their way. and so tom and jack, their mission to paris, which was the discovery of mr. raymond, having failed, went back to the hangars, there to be welcomed by their comrades in arms. they arrived one morning, just after some planes from a bombing expedition over the german lines returned. "what luck?" asked tom of a pilot with whom he had often flown. "the best, as regards the damage we did," was the answer. "we blew up several ammunition dumps, and put one railroad center out of business for a time. but louis didn't come back," and the man turned aside for a moment. "you mean your brother?" asked jack, softly. "yes." "perhaps he is only captured," suggested tom. "no, his machine caught fire. they got his petrol tank. it's all up with him and la garde. but we had our revenge. we sprayed the machine that got them until there was nothing left of it. and i'm going out again to-day in a nieuport. they'll pay a price for louis!" chapter xv the picked squadron "all ready, jack?" "just a moment, tom. i want to go over my struts and wires to make sure everything is taut. i don't want any accidents." "that's right. got plenty of ammunition drums?" "all i can carry. i've got some tracer bullets, too." "that's good. glad you reminded me of them. i must put in a stock. the last time i went up i wasted a drum before i got my man." tracer bullets for aircraft guns, it might be observed, are balls of fire which enable the pilot to see the course his machine gun bullets are taking, so he may correct his fire. "well, how about you now?" asked tom, as he added these useful supplies to his ammunition. "i guess we're ready to start," replied jack. they climbed into their machines, each pilot using a single-seat, swift-flying craft, equipped with a lewis machine gun. the squadron was going out on patrol duty, and each pilot was to observe what he could behind the german lines, and come back to report--that is if he did not happen, as was too often the case, to be bagged by a german flier. the small, swift machines did not carry the wireless outfit, and no reports could be sent back to headquarters save those the pilot himself came in with. there was a rattle and a roar as the motors of the ten machines started, and then over the ground they went, "taxi fashion," to get the necessary speed to rise into the air. a moment later all went aloft, and were headed toward the german lines. tom and jack kept as close together as was safe, but it is dangerous for two aeroplanes to approach too closely. if they do, and are not under good control, there may be a suction created that will cause a collision. "well, i hope i get one to-day," thought tom, as he manipulated his "joy stick," so as to send his plane up on a sharp slant. "i want to make good, and then i'll have so much better chance to get after that german gun." and the same thought was in jack's mind. the squadron was to remain aloft on a two-hour patrol, that is unless something should occur to make it advisable to remain up longer. the keen eyes of tom and jack, as well as those of their companions of the air, were searching for signs of the hun planes. as yet none were in sight, but it would not be long before they would come out to give battle. whatever else may justly be said about the germans, their airmen are no cowards, and, when conditions are favorable, they seldom decline a chance to combat above the clouds, or lower down. so it could easily be guessed that when tom, jack and the others found themselves over the german lines that the boches would be out in force. somewhat off to the left tom caught sight of a captive german balloon, looming through the mist, and as it is always the desire of a french flier to destroy one of these, thus preventing the observer from sending by wireless news of the allied front, he started for this enemy. jack saw his friend's act, and, desiring to aid, turned his machine in the same direction. but they had not gone far before they observed a number of black specks in the sky over the german lines. "the huns are coming," reflected tom. "now for some hot work." and it came to him, to jack, and the others, almost before they realized it. tom never got a chance to attack the balloon he hoped to force to descend or to set on fire, for his attention was taken up by two german machines, which, separating from the others, headed straight for him. the lad gave one glance in the direction of jack, and noted that a single hun craft was about to engage with his chum. "it's a regular german circus," thought tom, referring to the number of hostile craft. "they delight to go out in numbers." by this time the battle in the air had begun. it was a fight above the clouds, for both the french and the german machines were flying high, and had gone up above the bunches of fleecy vapor that now hid the ground from sight. tom headed straight for one of the hun machines, seeking to get above it, always a point of vantage in an air battle, and as he rushed on he realized that his machine was being hit by bullets from one of the hun guns. each bullet, as it struck, made a loud noise, as it punctured the tightly-drawn linen that covered the wings. but tom knew that his craft could stand a number of such holes, if only the struts, the supports, and the guy wires were not broken. he had no time, now, to note what jack or his comrades were doing, for his whole attention was taken up with the two hun machines engaging him. one seemed to be more skillful than the other, and to this one tom gave his attention first. he emptied a stream of bullets full into this flier's craft, noting, after the first few bad shots, which he could tell by the tracers, that he had perfect range. guiding his craft with one hand and his feet, tom worked the lewis gun with his other hand, and he had emptied a whole drum at the daring hun before he had the satisfaction of seeing the machine crumple up. tom's bullets had struck some part that had caused the wings to collapse, and the airman went down to earth, his craft out of control. but matters were not to go easy with the american. the other german was now in a better position for getting tom than the latter was for potting him, and tom felt a stream of bullets flying around him. one chipped his gun, and another grazed his cheek, the close call making his heart stand still for a moment. but he never faltered. "i've got to get above him," tom thought fiercely. he made a risky spiral turn to one side, and began to mount, seeking to get in position to fire to better advantage. it was touch and go for a while, and he felt, rather than heard, his craft receive several bullets. "if only the gasolene tank isn't hit," thought tom. but good fortune in this respect was with him, and he got in a position where he could point his machine (and the gun at the same time, for this is how the guns are aimed in the single aircraft) at the hun flier. and then tom sent forth a rain of bullets. for a moment they seemed to have no effect, and yet tom knew he had shot straight. then, even while he felt a sharp pain in one hand, showing that he had been hit, he saw the other machine start down in a spinning nose dive. that meant he was going downward head first, and at the same time spinning around like a top. this spinning nose dive may be intentional or accidental--that is, with the machine in control, or out of control. the spinning nose dive was discovered by accident, but is now part of the regular flying features, and is often used by aviators to escape from an enemy. it is almost impossible to hit a plane doing a spinning nose dive, and if an aviator is over his own lines he may be able to come out of it before he reaches the ground, and so be safe. many german planes have escaped in this way, and often a french airman has thought he has sent his enemy down disabled, when, as a matter of fact, the other has merely adopted this ruse to get away. "well, i don't know whether i got him, or whether he got frightened and went down to fool me," thought tom. "anyhow they're both out of the way, and i can go after the balloon." but tom could not, for two reasons. one was that the wound in his hand was bleeding profusely, and he knew it ought to be attended to before he was incapacitated. another was that the balloon was being hauled down, and as more french planes were in the air now, making a number superior to the huns, the latter turned tail and retreated. it was inadvisable to follow them over their own lines now, and the squadron, or what was left of it, began to retreat. tom noted the absence of three of the french planes, and among the missing was jack's. "i wonder if they got him," tom mused, his heart becoming like lead. his eyes sought the air about him, but jack's machine, which carried a little united states flag where it could easily be seen, was not in sight. it was impossible to get any information up in the air. tom would have to wait until they got back to the aerodrome. and he put on speed to get there the sooner, in order to end his suspense. "and the other brave fellows--i wonder what happened to them," mused tom. in his worry over the fate of jack and the others he scarcely minded the pain in his hand. he made a good landing, but being rather weak and faint from loss of blood, he scarcely heeded the congratulations of his comrades, who had received word, by telephone from the front, of the fate of some of the hun machines. "where's jack?" tom gasped, while a surgeon was putting a bandage on his hand. "right here, old scout!" came the unexpected answer, and jack himself stepped out from amid a throng of airmen. "why didn't you wait for me?" jack went on. "i was coming back." "coming back? did you come down safely?" asked tom, beginning to feel a little better now. then tom realized the futility of his question, for was not jack there in the flesh? "of course i came back, old scout," was the answer. "i had hard luck, though, but i'd have gone up again if they'd only waited for me." "what happened?" asked tom. "oh, just after i potted my man--or at least sent him down out of control--i got a bullet through my gasolene tank. luckily it didn't set the petrol on fire, but i knew i'd better not take any chances. i tried to plug up the puncture with some chewing gum, but it wouldn't work. guess the gum they sell now hasn't as much old rubber boot stock in it as it used to have. anyhow it was leaking like a sieve, and i had to head for our lines." "tough luck!" consoled tom. jack did not add that he had, as soon as he landed, got into another machine, and was about to go back and join his comrades when they returned, having practically won the battle above the clouds. congratulations were extended to the members of the squadron, who accepted their honors modestly enough, as was characteristic of them. then, after tom's wound had been dressed, and he and jack were talking over the events of the day, there came a communication from the commander of the air division in that sector. it was an order calling on certain men to report at once for special duty. a picked squadron was to be detailed for a hazardous enterprise, it was said. "and our names are there!" cried jack. "tom, old man, we're going!" "but where is it?" asked another american flier named boughton. "what's the game?" knowing the secret would be safe with him tom said: "we're going to pot the big german cannon that's bombarding paris!" chapter xvi missing news of the shelling of paris by the long-range gun had, of course, been received at the aerodrome, though there had not, as yet, many details come in. tom and jack, as the latest arrivals from the big city, were called upon to tell all they knew, and they related their experiences in the raids, and also told about the various theories of the big gun. "but how are we going to find it?" asked. boughton. "it's easy enough, of course, for our squadron to go out with a lot of bombs. but where are we going to drop 'em?" "oh, we're to go to paris for further instructions before starting on the quest," said tom, who had made some inquiries about the orders concerning the picked squadron. "and they may have discovered its location by this time," added jack. "we know about where it is--somewhere in the sector between hamegicourt and condé. the rest ought to be easy." "not so easy as it sounds, my friends," put in a french flier. "i know that region. it is a big one; and the germans no doubt have their gun well camouflaged. it will not be easy." "but we'll get it!" asserted tom. "naturally," said the frenchman, as if that was all there was to it. tom's wound was painful, but not dangerous, though it would keep him on the ground for a day or two. though, as a matter of fact, none of the members of the picked squadron was allowed to go aloft after the orders came detailing them for work in connection with the monster cannon. their places were taken by others who were sent for, some being new fliers who were burning to make a name for themselves. besides tom and jack, in the picked squadron there were boughton, another american, cerfe and tierse, two intrepid frenchmen, and haught, an englishman, who insisted, but with little success, that his name be pronounced as though spelled "hoo." these six were to be depended on to find and destroy the german cannon--all of them if there were more than one, as was likely. and to this picked squadron other members would be added as need arose. all six were skillful fliers, and brave men of the air, as may easily be guessed. they were to use whatever type of machine they liked best--the single seaters, the great bombing planes, and, it was even said, one of the immense italian fliers. this last was a craft capable of carrying several men and a quantity of supplies and ammunition. very soon, then, tom raymond and jack parmly were on their way to paris again, accompanied by their comrades, and all would soon be engaged in the difficult and perilous task of finding the new german long-range cannon. "i suppose you'll make another attempt to find your father?" suggested jack to his chum, as they rode in on the train. "indeed i shall, if i have time. i can't understand why i haven't had some word before this. there are several possible reasons, of course. if it wasn't that we know he got to rue lafayette i'd say his ship had been sunk 'without a trace,' as the germans ordered in other cases. but, of course, he safely reached this side. then he just seems to have dropped out of sight, for i can't believe he was killed when the shell from the big gun hit the house where he had taken lodging. he may have found it advisable to return home at once, for some reason, and didn't have a chance to leave any word for me, or send me any message. and perhaps he hasn't got back to america yet. then, too, he may be in germany, a prisoner." "let us hope not," said jack, softly, and tom echoed the wish. much as he wished he could devote some time to the search for his father, tom realized that he was working under military orders, and, however dear his father was to him, the sacrifice of his personal affairs must be made. he knew he would only have time to make some brief inquiries, and then he and jack must go with the squadron to the headquarters assigned to it, as near the location of the big german gun as possible, and there try to silence it. the train the picked squadron was traveling on was late, and it was dusk when they alighted at the railroad station. "think we'll have a chance to see anything of the bombardment?" asked boughton. "i was going to say i hoped not," answered tom, "for i wish the beastly gun, or guns, would blow up. but that would take away our chance to pot 'em, and i know we all want to do that. you may see something, though they don't bombard at night as often as they do by day. of late, however, before we left, the night firing was more frequent. possibly they have found some means of hiding the gun flashes or of letting them mingle with others along a line so the exact location of the big bertha is a matter of doubt." as they alighted from the train, and were about to seek some taxicabs to take them to lodgings that had been assigned them, they all became aware of the fact that something unusual was going on. suddenly the electric lights went out, leaving the region about the station, and indeed all of paris, in comparative darkness. at the same time a motor fire engine rushed screeching through the streets, giving an alarm. "what is it?" cried boughton. "is the big gun firing?" "it's a zeppelin raid! i was here once before when they had one," said the englishman coolly. "mind your heads, boys. just our rotten luck not to have a machine to go up after it." he hurried out into the open street where he could have a view of the sky, and the others followed. there was more excitement than during the bombardment of the big gun. people were rushing here and there in search of safe places, and taxicabs, with their lamps like fireflies in the darkness, were skidding hither and yon, their horns calling for a clear way. suddenly there was a muffled roar, at some distance off. this was followed by a hoarse murmur, as though a burst of rage from many throats at the unspeakable outrage of the huns in killing women and children. at the same time the anti-aircraft guns, with which paris is so efficiently guarded, began to bark and to send their red flashes out into the blackness of the night. they were shooting at the zeppelin, as yet unseen by the men of the picked squadron, and the gunners aimed according to instructions sent them by wireless from scouts hovering in the air above the city. as soon as word comes from the front, about eighty miles from paris, that a zeppelin is on its way to raid, an elaborate system of defense is put into operation. there are some airmen above paris all the while, frequently as many as forty on sentry duty. but when word comes of a zeppelin raid the whole squadron, numbering close to three hundred, goes aloft. by their searchlights, aided by those on the surface, these fliers endeavor to pick up the german machine, and, too, they endeavor to get near enough to attack it. this was what was now going on. pandemonium appeared let loose, and the explosion of the german bombs, mingling with the noise of the french guns, made paris seem like a battlefield. occasionally could be heard, when the guns were silenced for a moment, the roar of the many aeroplane motors aloft. the zeppelin seemed to be over a section of paris near the tuileries, judging by the bursts of light in that direction. tom, jack, and their friends wished with all their hearts that they might take a hand in the defense, but it was not to be. for perhaps half an hour the anti-aircraft guns roared out their defiance to the hun, and then a large flare of gasolene was lighted in a public square. this was a signal for the aeroplanes to return, for the zeppelin had left, either because she found the situation too perilous for her, or because she had used up all her bombs. the lights were turned on again, and the new arrivals watched the aeroplanes returning one by one, being recognized by their lights in the air as they moved about like gigantic illuminated insects. "well, that's some excitement," observed tom, as he and the others finally succeeded in getting cabs, and started for their destination. "i hope no one was killed." but the bombs of the inhuman huns had found several marks, and while the harm from a military standpoint was small, a number of persons had been killed. some damage had been inflicted on the zeppelin, it was said later, one brave airman saying he got near enough to spray some bullets into one of the cabins where a crowd of officers and men were working the machine. "we will be with you a little later," said tom to the other members of the squadron, as, having reached their lodgings, the two chums set out. "where are you going?" "to call on some ladies," answered jack, for he and tom had planned to see bessie and her mother. they reached their own former stopping place, to which they had been sent by major de trouville, but when they inquired for the gleasons the landlady, who remembered the boys, stared at them in surprise, and said: "why, madam gleason and her daughter are not here! they went out this morning to meet you, and have not come back!" "to meet us?" gasped jack. "yes, in answer to your note bidding them do so!" chapter xvii seeking the gun tom and jack gazed blankly at one another. the same thought was in the minds of both. "the spy!" "that's who did it," declared tom. "he forged our names to a note--no hard task since neither bessie nor her mother knows our writing very well--and he's induced them to go some place where he could get them in his power again." "but why?" asked jack. "probably because potzfeldt wanted him to do it. he still has his eye on mrs. gleason's property, i presume, if there is any left after his robbery." "it certainly is tough to think that bessie and her mother have again fallen into his clutches!" exclaimed jack. "and we can't do a thing to rescue them. we've got to report with the others in the morning at the new aerodrome." "yes, but we still have to-night free!" cried tom. "it will give us several hours to make a search, and we'll do it! do you know where mrs. gleason and bessie went in response to this forged note?" he asked the landlady. she mentioned a certain restaurant, not far away, where tom and his chum had frequently eaten with mrs. gleason and her daughter. "she was rather surprised to get the note from you," said the landlady, "and wondered why you didn't come yourself. but she supposed it had something to do either with your search for your father or with war matters, so she did not question the messenger. i heard her mention the place where she and bessie were going, or i would not know." "how long ago was it?" asked jack. "oh, just before luncheon time. and they haven't come back." "the scoundrels have a long start of us!" exclaimed jack. "we'll have to do the best we can." "better notify the police at once," suggested tom. "we'll need their help." "that's right," agreed his chum. their uniform was an open sesame to the police officials, and a detective was at once detailed to go with the boys to the restaurant. there, as might have been expected, there was no news. the spy, or whoever potzfeldt's agent was, had been too clever for that. all that could be learned from a taxicab driver was that a lady and a girl, answering the descriptions of bessie and her mother, had been met in front of the restaurant by a man. the three, after a short talk, had driven off together in an automobile, and that was the last seen of them. "but we'll get some trace," declared the detective. "it is hard to get in or out of paris now without proper papers. and while, of course, this spy may have forged documents, there is a chance that we may intercept him and help your friends. time is against us, but we will do our best." tom and jack knew that. there was nothing else to do, and so, worried as they were, they went back to their comrades. tom made some inquiries about his father, but, as he feared, no news had come. as may be imagined tom and jack did not pass a very restful night. the zeppelin raid had set their nerves on edge, as well as those of every one else, and it could not be told when the big gun might begin firing again. then the fact of mrs. gleason and bessie being missing, and not knowing in what danger they might be, added to the boys' anxiety. they paid a late visit to the police, hoping for news, but the spy had not been apprehended. then they hurried back to get a little rest before starting with their comrades of the air to search for the monster gun. while these events were transpiring, the french army intelligence department had not been idle. the officials knew how vitally necessary it was, in order not to have the morale of the people of paris weakened, to do something to find and silence the big guns. and first it was necessary to discover them. while this, as yet, had not been done with exactness, owing to the concealing tactics of the germans, it was believed that the long-range cannon was hidden in a certain wood near laon. french airmen had endeavored to spy out certain positions there, but an unusually large number of german planes had fought them off. "that's pretty good evidence that there must be something doing," observed tom, when he heard this information. "laon is about ten miles behind the german lines as they exist at present. just a breather for a good french plane. jack, that's a trip we'll soon be taking." "i'll be with you, old scout. how's your hand?" "oh, all right now. i can hold the joy stick or work the gun. i'm ready for whatever comes along." the time had come for the picked squadron to leave paris and assemble at the aerodrome assigned to them as their headquarters while the search for the big gun was in progress. sad at having to leave without having some word of mr. raymond, and without knowing the fate of bessie and her mother, tom and jack, nevertheless, bore up well and left with their comrades, going out of paris on a train that would eventually bring them to their headquarters. in a way their mission was a secret one. yet it was a question if the germans did not guess that something like what really was afoot would be undertaken in order to silence the super-cannon. they were up to all the tricks of war, and they must have realized that the french would do as the germans themselves would do under similar circumstances. "well, this sure is some place!" exclaimed tom, as they reached the camp where they were to stay until the gun had been destroyed, or until some other change in plans was necessary. "it's the best aerodrome we've struck since we began flying in this war." "i believe you!" echoed jack. the place, though newly established just back of the french lines, where they opposed the german trenches, was well fitted up for the purpose to which it was to be devoted. there were a number of canvas hangars for the aeroplanes, there were living quarters for the men, a wireless station and a well defended camp where the aviators might live in comfort during the periods between their flights. of course the place was open to attack by german fliers, but this was true of every place along the line. sufficient camouflaging had been done, however, to render the spot reasonably secure from bombing. of course a direct attack from in front would be met by the admirable french system of defense, and there were plenty of reserves that could be brought up if a general advance were attempted by the germans. but as there was no particular place of any military or strategic importance on that sector, the worst that was to be feared was an attack from the air. and this would be guarded against both by the french fliers themselves and by a battery of the newest type of anti-aircraft gun. "they don't seem to have forgotten much," observed tom, as he and jack, with the others, went to the quarters assigned to them. "you said something!" exclaimed jack, admiringly. thus had been set up in this locality, where heretofore no aircraft activities had been carried on to any extent, a most perfect escadrille. it was designed to destroy the big german cannon. would it succeed? that was a question every man of the allies asked. shortly after the arrival of the picked squadron at the camp, which, in honor of tom and jack had been named "lincoln," word came in over the wireless that the big gun had again fired on paris. "it's funny we didn't hear any report of it," said jack. "there have been reports enough," tom remarked. "i've heard the booming of distant guns ever since we got near this place. any one of them may have been the monster, or they may have been firing other guns to hide the sound of this cannon. then, too, it may not make as much noise as we think it ought to. the germans may have found a new kind of powder, or even some propelling gas, that makes no extraordinary report. in that case we couldn't locate the gun by the sound." "maybe you're right," agreed jack. "anyhow they're firing, that much is proved; and it's somewhere over there," and he motioned toward the german lines. much as the airmen desired to start at once in their search for the monster cannon, it was deemed wise to have first a consultation and a general understanding of what means should be employed. then, too, all the aircraft were new, having been shipped to camp lincoln and there assembled, and it was desired to test them before taking the dangerous flights over the german lines. so the airmen would have to spend some time--perhaps half a week--in preliminary work. meanwhile the great cannon would keep up its deadly, though, from a military standpoint, useless work. and so began the preparation, if such it might be called. every one, from the most daring "ace" to the humblest kitchen helper in the camp, was anxious for the day when it could be said that the gun was out of commission, or guns, if, as was likely, there was more than one. but the men in command knew the value of thoroughness. there must be no failure through lack of making proper plans. but at last everything was in readiness. the planes had been tested, keyed up, and the motors run until every part of them was humming like a top. each man felt confidence, not only in himself but in his craft, and that meant much. there were several types for the fliers to use, single-seaters, the big bombing craft, those equipped for slow flying and from which photographs were to be taken, as well as others. the taking of photographs was expected to help in revealing the position of the hidden gun. the big italian plane was not ready, it seemed, to be used, but it would be soon, it was said. then came the day and the hour when certain members of the picked squadron were to take the air to look for the gun. tom and jack, to their delight, were selected to go. "what a chance!" exclaimed jack, as he climbed into his machine, and saw that he had plenty of ammunition for the lewis gun. "i hope we can make good!" returned tom. then they were away and up, seeking to find the monster cannon that was bringing the war into the heart of paris. chapter xviii a cloud battle for some little time the picked squadron that was intrusted with the difficult and dangerous task of locating the big german gun flew over the french lines. below them tom and jack could make out various french camps, the front and supporting lines of trenches, and various other military works. they could see a brisk artillery duel going on at one point. they noted the puffs of smoke, but of course could not hear the explosions, as their own motors were making too much noise. tom and jack kept within sight of one another, and also within view of their comrades. each plane was marked with a big number so it could be distinguished, for the aviators themselves were so wrapped in fleece-lined clothes, so attired in gauntlets, goggles and fur boots, as protection against the terrible cold of the upper regions, that one's closest friend would not recognize him at a near view. it was the object of this first scouting expedition to make a preliminary observation over as wide a range of the enemy's country as possible. while it was hoped that the location of the big gun might be spied out, it was almost too much to expect to pick out the spot at the first trial. the germans were keen and wary, and undoubtedly they would have laid their plans well. "well, i don't see any of 'em coming out to dispute our passage," thought tom, as he looked at his controls and noted by his height gage that he was now up about two miles. "there isn't a boche plane in sight." and the same thing was observed by jack and the other fliers. the germans seemed to be keeping down, or else were higher up, or perhaps hidden by some cloud bank. that was another hazard of the air. going into a cloud, or above it might mean, on coming out, that one would find himself in the midst of enemies. it is a life full of dangers and surprises. it is this which makes it so appealing to the young and brave. on and on flew the allied planes, and the eager eyes of the pilots were alternately directed toward the earth and then ahead of them, and upward to discern the first sight of a hun machine, if such should venture out. the fliers were now well over the german lines, and the batteries from below began firing at them. this was to be expected, and tom, jack and the others had gotten used to the bursts of shrapnel all around them. they could see the puffs of smoke where the shells burst, but they could hear no sounds. "the 'archies' are busy this morning," thought jack, as he noted the firing from below, and using the french slang word for the german anti-aircraft guns. he took a quick glance toward tom's machine to make sure his chum, so far, was all right. assured on this point jack looked to his own craft. "well," he mused, "at this point the 'flaming onions' can't get us, but they may pot us as we go down, as we'll have to if we want to get a good view of the ground where the big gun may be hidden." the "flaming onions," referred to by jack, were rockets shot from a ground mortar. they have a range of about a mile, and when a series of them are shot upward in the direction of a hostile plane it is no easy matter for the aviator to pass through this "barrage." once a "flaming onion" touches an aeroplane the craft is set on fire, and then, unless a miracle happens, the aviator falls to his death. the german gunners, however, could not use these to advantage while the french planes kept so high up, though the shrapnel was a menace, for the hun guns shot far and with excellent aim. a number of the scout machines were hit, tom's receiving three bullets through the wings, while jack's engine was nicked once or twice, though with no serious damage. but as for the german planes they declined the combat that was offered them. probably they had different plans in view. it soon became evident to tom, jack and the others that to fly at that height meant discovering nothing down below. the distance was too great. the big gun might be hidden almost anywhere below them, but until it was fired, disclosing its presence by an unusual volume of smoke, it would not be discovered. also its fire might be camouflaged by a salvo from a protecting battery. "it's about time he did that," said tom to himself at last, as he noticed cerfe, who was the leader of the air squadron, dip his plane in a certain way, which was the signal for going down. "we've got to get lower if we want to see anything," the young aviator went on. "though they may pot some of us." down they went, flying comparatively low but at great speed in order to offer less of a target to the gunners below them. and, following instructions, each pilot noted carefully the section of the german trenches beneath him, and the area back of them. they were seeking the big gun. but, though they looked carefully, it could not be seen, and finally when one of the french machines was badly hit, and the pilot wounded, so that he had to turn back toward his own lines, cerfe gave the signal for the return. in all this time not a hun plane had come out to give battle. what the reason for this was could only be guessed at. it may have been that none of the german machines was available, or that skillful pilots, capable of sustaining a fight with the veterans of the french, were not on hand just then. however that may have been, tom, jack and the others, after firing a few rounds from their machine guns at the trenches, though without hope of doing much damage, turned back toward camp lincoln. "well, then you did not discover anything?" asked major de trouville, who had been transferred and given the command at camp lincoln. "nothing," answered jack. "if it's in the section we covered, it is well hidden," added tom. "and i think, don't you know," went on the englishman, haught, "that the only way we'll be able to hit on the bally mortar is to fly low and take photographs." "that's my idea," said the major. "if we take a series of photographs we can develop them, enlarge them, if necessary, and examine them at our leisure. i had thought of this, but it's a slow plan, and it means--casualties. but i suppose that can't be avoided. but i wanted to try the scouting machines first. "after all, the taking of photographs from the air of the enemy trenches and the land behind them is a most valuable method of getting information," he continued. men, specially trained for such observation work, examine the photographs after the aviators return with the films, and they can tell, by signs that an ordinary person would pass over, whether there is a new battery camouflaged in the vicinity, whether preparations are under way for receiving a large number of troops, or whether a general advance is contemplated. then measures to oppose this can be started. so, major de trouville was right, photography forms a valuable part of the new warfare. the photographing of the enemy positions is done in big, heavy machines, carrying two men. they must fly comparatively low, and have not much speed, though they are armed, and it takes considerable of an attack to bring them down. but of course the pilot and his observer are in danger, and, to protect them as much as possible, scout planes--the single-seat nieuports--are sent out in squadrons to hover about and give battle to the german aircraft that come out to drive off the photographers. "we'll undertake that," proceeded major de trouville. "i'll order the big machine to get ready for an attempt to-morrow at locating the gun." "is it still shooting?" asked jack. "yes, it has just been bombarding paris; but i have no reports yet as to the damage done." "aren't we doing anything at all?" asked tom. "oh, yes, our batteries are keeping up a fire on the german lines along the front behind which we think the gun is concealed, but what the results are yet, we don't know." "well, let's hope for clear weather to-morrow," suggested boughton. the intervening time was occupied by the aviators in getting everything in readiness. the machines were inspected, the automatic guns gone over, and nothing left undone that could be thought of to give success. the next day dawned clear and bright, and, as soon as it was light enough to make successful photographs, the big machine set out, while hovering above and to either side of it were several nieuports. tom and jack were each occupying one of these, ready to give battle to the huns above or below the clouds. in order to distract the attention of the germans as much as possible from the direct front where the airships were to cross the lines, a violent artillery fire was maintained on either flank. to this the germans replied, perhaps thinking an engagement was pending. and so, amid the roar of big guns, the flying squadron got off. "now we'll see what luck we'll have," mused tom, as he drove his machine forward, being one of the large aerial "v" that had for its angle the ponderous photographing bi-motored machine. over the german lines they flew, and then the germans awoke to the necessity of ignoring the fire on their flanks and began shooting at the airships over their heads. "this ought to bring out their pilots if they have any sporting blood," thought jack. and it did. the french and their allies were no more than well over german-occupied territory, before a whole german air fleet swarmed up and advanced to give battle. they flew high, intending to get above their enemies, and so in the most favorable fighting position. but tom, jack and the others saw this, and also began to elevate their planes. "we certainly are going up!" mused tom, as he noted the needle of his height gage showing an altitude of twelve thousand feet. "when are they going to stop? we're high above the clouds now." that was true as regarded himself, jack, and two other french planes. but still the germans climbed. doubtless some of them were engaging the big machine which was low down, trying to take photographs, but cerfe and boughton were guarding that. "here comes one at me, anyhow!" thought tom, as he saw a hun machine headed for him. "well, the sooner it's over the better. here goes!" and he pressed the release of his automatic gun, meanwhile heading his craft full at the german to direct the fire, for that is how the guns are aimed in a nieuport, the gun being stationary. and so began the battle above the clouds. chapter xix queer lights tom raymond's first few shots went wild, as he noted by the tracer bullets. then, steering his machine with his feet, he brought it around a trifle, and, having by a quick action risen above his antagonist, he let him have a good round, full in the face. the result was disastrous to the german, for suddenly the hun machine burst into flames, the gasolene from the punctured tank burning fiercely, and down it went a flaming torch of death. tom felt some bullets whistle around him, and one exploded as it struck part of his engine, but without injuring it. "explosive bullets, are they?" mused the young aviator. "against all the rules of civilized warfare. well, he won't shoot any more," he thought grimly. but though tom had come victorious from his engagement with his single antagonist, he had no sooner straightened out and begun to take stock of the situation, than he became aware that he was in great danger. above him, and coming at him with the swiftness of the wind, were two speedy german machines, bent cm his destruction. they were both firing at him, the angles of attack converging, so that if one missed him the other would probably get him. "i've got to get out of this," tom reasoned. he headed his plane toward the antagonist on his right, shooting upward and firing as rapidly as he could, and had the satisfaction of seeing the german swerve to one side. the fire was too hot for his liking. the other, however, came on and sent such a burst of fire at tom that the latter realized it was a desperate chance he was taking. he tried to get above his enemy, but the other's plane was the speedier of the two, and he held the advantage. tom's ammunition was running low, and he realized that he must do something. he decided to take a leaf out of the book of the germans. "i'll go down in a spinning nose dive," he reasoned. "they'll be less likely to hit me then. i'll have to go back, i guess, and get some more shots. i used more than i thought." he sent his last drum at the persistent german, and, noting that the other was swooping around to attack again, went into the dangerous spinning nose dive. the germans may have thought they had disabled their antagonist, for this dive is one a machine often takes when the pilot has lost control. but in this case tom still retained it, and when he had dropped out of the danger zone, he prepared to straighten out and fly back over his own lines. it is not easy to straighten an airplane after such a dive, and for a moment tom was not sure that he could do it. often the strain of this nose dive, when the machine is speeding earthward, impelled not only by its propellers, but by the attraction, of gravitation, is so great as to tear off the wings or to crumple them. but after one sickening moment, when the craft seemed indisposed to obey him, tom felt it beginning to right itself, and then he started to sail toward the french lines. he was not out of danger yet, though he was far enough away from the two german machines. but he was so low that he was within range of the german anti-aircraft guns, and straightway they began shooting at him. to add to his troubles his engine began missing, and he realized that it had sustained some damage that might make it stop any moment. and he still had several miles to travel! but he opened up full, and though the missing became more frequent he managed to keep the motor going until he was in a position to volplane down inside his own lines, where he was received with cheers by his comrades of the camp. "how goes it?" asked major de trouville anxiously. "i think we are holding them off," said tom. he was the first one who had had to return, much to his chagrin. he leaped out of his craft, and was about to ask for another to go back and renew the battle of the clouds, when he saw the big photographing machine returning, accompanied by all but two of the escorting craft. "a pair missing," murmured the major, as he searched the sky with his glasses. and tom wondered if jack's machine was among those that had not headed back. eagerly he procured a pair of binoculars, and when he had them focused he identified one machine after another, at last picking out his chum's. it did not seem to be damaged. but two of the french craft had been brought down--one in flames, the report had it, and the other out of control, and both fell within the german lines. "did you get any photographs of the big gun?" asked the major, when the men in the double machine had made a landing. "we got lots of views," answered the photographer, "but what they show we can't say. as far as having seen the gun goes, we didn't spot it." "well, maybe the photographs will reveal it," suggested the major. "ah, but i am sorry for the two that are lost!" jack's experience had been less exciting than tom's. one machine had attacked the former, and there had been a hot engagement for a while, but the german had finally withdrawn, though to what extent he was wounded or his machine damaged jack did not know. however, the picked squadron had reason to feel satisfied with their efforts. all now depended on the developing of the photographs, and this was quickly done. for this part of warfare is now regarded as so important that it is possible for a plane to fly over an enemy's station, take photographs and have prints in the hands of the commanding officer inside of an hour, if all goes well. carefully the photographs were examined by men expert in such matters. eagerly they looked to discover some signs of the emplacement of the big gun. but one after another of the experts shook his head. "nothing there," was the verdict. "then we've got to try again," decided major de trouville. "we must find that gun and destroy it!" "well, we're ready," announced tom, and the others of the picked squadron nodded in assent. and then began an organized campaign to locate the monster cannon. it continued to fire on paris at intervals. then three days went by without any shells falling, and the rumor became current that the gun had burst. if this had happened, there was another, or more, to take its place, for again the bombarding of the city began. meanwhile the air scouts did their best to find the place of the firing. hundreds of photographs were taken, and brave scouts risked death more than once in flying low over suspected territory. but all to no purpose. several were killed, but others took their places. jack was hit and so badly wounded that he was two weeks in the hospital. but when he came out he was again ready to join tom in the search. no word came as to the whereabouts of bessie and her mother, nor did tom hear anything of his father. the lack of information was getting on the nerves of both boys, but they dared not stop to think about that, for the army needed their best efforts as scouts of the air, and they gave such service gladly and freely. every possible device was tried to find the location of the german gun, and numerous battles above the clouds resulted at different times during the scout work. on the whole the advantage in these conflicts lay with the armies of the allies, the germans being punished severely. once a german plane was brought down within the french lines, and its pilot made a prisoner. it was hoped that some information might be gotten out of the german airman that would lead to the discovery of the big gun, but, naturally, he did not reveal the secret; and no more pressure was brought to bear on him in this matter than was legitimate. the hiding place of the gun remained a secret. its possible size and the nature of its shooting was discussed every day by tom, jack and their comrades. in order to make a cannon shoot a distance of about eighty miles it was known that it was necessary to get the maximum elevation of forty-five degrees. it was also calculated that the shell must describe a trajectory the highest point in the curve of which must be thirty-five miles or more above the earth. in other words the german cannon had to shoot in a curve thirty-five miles upward to have the missile fly to paris. of course at that height there was very little air resistance, which probably accounted for the ability of the missile to go so far. that, and the sub-calibre shell, made the seemingly impossible come within the range of possibility. "what are you going to do, tom?" asked jack one evening, after an unsuccessful day's flight. for tom was going toward his hangar. "going up." "what for?" jack went on. "oh, no reason in particular. i just feel like flying. we didn't do much to-day. had to come back on account of mist, and we didn't see enough to pay for the petrol used. want to come along?" "oh, i might, yes." tom and jack went up, as did several more. but the two remained up longer than did the others, and jack was somewhat surprised to see his chum suddenly head for the german lines, but at an angle that would take him over them well to the south of where the observation work had been carried on. "i wonder what he's up to," mused jack; "guess i'd better follow and see." there was not much chance of an aerial battle at that hour, for dusk was coming on. there had been no bombing squadron sent out, which would have accounted for tom going to meet them, and jack wondered greatly at his chum's action. still there was no way of asking questions just then, and jack followed his friend. they sailed over the german lines at a good height, and jack could keep tom in view by noting the lights on his plane. these were also seen by the germans below, and the anti-aircraft guns began their concert, but without noticeable effect. none of the hun airmen seemed disposed to accept a challenge to fight, so tom and jack had the upper air to themselves. below them the boys could see flashes of fire as the various guns were discharged; and at one point in the lines there was quite an artillery duel, the french batteries sending over a shower of high explosive shells in answer to the challenge from the boches. it was not until jack had followed his chum back to camp lincoln, and they had made a landing, that a conversation ensued which was destined to have momentous effect. "jack, did you notice the peculiar colored lights away to the north of where we were flying?" asked tom, as they divested themselves of their fur garments. "you mean the orange colored flare, that turned to green and then to purple?" asked jack. "that's it. i thought you'd see it. i wonder what it means?" "oh, perhaps some signal for a barrage or an attack. or they may have been signaling another battery to try to pot us." "no, i hardly think so. they didn't look like signal fires. i must ask major de trouville about that." "what?" inquired the major himself, who was passing and who heard what tom said. "why, we noticed some peculiar lights as we were flying over the german lines in the dark. there was an orange flare, followed by a green light that changed to purple," answered tom. "there was!" cried the major, seemingly much excited. "you don't mean it! that's just what we've been hoping to see! come, you must tell laigney about this." chapter xx the big gun for a moment tom and jack did not quite know what to make of the excitement of major de trouville. and excited he certainly was beyond a doubt. "you must come and tell this to lieutenant laigney at once," he said. "it may mean something important. are you sure of the sequence of the colors?" he asked. "that makes all the difference." "there was first an orange tint," said tom, "which was followed by green and purple, the last gradually dying out." "orange, green and purple," murmured the major. "can it be that for which we are seeking?" he hurried along with the boys, seemingly forgetting, in his haste and excitement, that he was their ranking officer. but, as has been noted, the aviators are more like friends and equals than officers and men. there is discipline, of course, but there is none of the rigidity seen in other branches of the army. in fact the very nature of the work makes for comradeship. tom and jack knew, slightly, the officer to whom major de trouville referred. lieutenant laigney was an ordnance expert, and the inventor of a certain explosive just beginning to be used in the french shells. it was simple, but very powerful. "you must tell him what you observed--the strange colored lights, my boys," said the major. "by the way, i hope you carefully noted the time of the colored flares." tom and jack had. that was part of their training, to keep a note of extraordinary happenings and the time. often seemingly slight matters have an important bearing on the future. they found lieutenant laigney in his quarters, making what seemed to be some intricate calculations. he saluted the major and nodded to the boys, whom he had met before. "lieutenant," began major de trouville, "these young gentlemen have something to tell you. i want you to think it over in the light of what you told me about the action of that new explosive you said the germans might possibly be using." "very good, major. i shall be delighted to be of any service in my power," was the answer. then tom and jack described what they had seen, giving the location of the colored lights as nearly as they could, and the exact time they had noted them. "how long would it take a shell to reach paris, fired at a distance of eighty miles from the city?" asked the major. the lieutenant made some calculations, and announced the result of his findings. "then," went on the commanding officer, "if a shell was fired from the big gun, say at the moment when these two scouts observed the tri-colored fire, it should have reached paris at seven-fifty-three o'clock." "as nearly as can be calculated, not knowing the exact speed of the projectile, yes," answered the lieutenant. major de trouville picked up the telephone and asked to be connected with the wireless station. "have you had any reports of the bombarding of paris this evening?" he asked. "yes? what time did the first, or any particular shell, arrive? ah, yes, thank you. that is all at present." he turned to the others, after having listened to the reply and put the instrument away. "one of the shells exploded in a paris street at seven-fifty-two o'clock this evening," he said. "it beat your calculations by one minute, lieutenant laigney." "ah! then this means--" and the younger officer seemed as excited as the major had been when tom and jack told him what they had seen. "it means," finished the commanding officer, "that, in all likelihood, these young men have discovered the location of the big german cannon." "discovered it!" cried jack. "why we didn't see anything!" "nothing but those queer lights," added tom. major de trouville smiled at them, and lieutenant laigney nodded his head in assent. "those queer lights, as you call them," said the ordnance expert, "were the flashes of a new explosive. what the germans call it i do not know. for want of a better name we call it barlite, from the name of professor barcello, one of our experimenters, who discovered it. but a spy stole the secret and gave it to germany. they must have managed to perfect it, though we have not used it as yet, owing to the difficulty in constructing a gun strong enough to withstand its terrific power." "and do you mean they're using this explosive in the big german gun?" asked jack, "and that we really saw it being fired?" cried tom. "that is my belief," said the lieutenant. "this explosive burns, when fired from a gun, first with an orange flame, changing to green and then to purple, as the various gases are given off." "those are the very colors we saw!" exclaimed jack. "yes," went on major de trouville. "and when i heard you mention them, and when i recalled that lieutenant laigney had spoken of a certain explosive that gave off a tri-colored light, i suspected you had hit on the german secret." "and do you believe we actually saw the giant cannon being fired at paris?" asked tom. "without a doubt. the time of the arrival of one of the shells coincides almost to the minute with the time that would elapse after the missile was sent on its way, and this was when you saw the queer flashes. you have discovered the area where the big gun is placed. all that is needed now are some exact observations to give us the exact spot." "and then we can destroy it!" cried the lieutenant. "then the menace to beloved paris will have passed!" "and thanks to our brave american friends!" cried the major, shaking hands with tom and jack. "you will win promotion for this!" he murmured. "but the big gun isn't found yet," said jack. "why, if you are right, sir," tom said to the major, "the shells must pass right over our camp." "they probably do. but at so far above--several miles up so as to reach the height of thirty-five--that we never know it. we neither see them nor hear them. boys, i believe you have located the big gun! all that now remains is to destroy it!" chapter xxi devastating fire modestly enough tom and jack took the new honors that came to them. as a matter of fact they were in no wise sure that they had discovered the location of the german giant cannon. it was all well enough to come in and report seeing some strange-colored flares of fire. but tom and jack felt that they wanted to see a thing with their own eyes before surely believing. of course, though, the french experts knew about what they were talking, and the major and the lieutenant seemed very sure of their ground. "i only hope we have had the good luck to have spotted the beasts' machine," said tom. "you will have the honor of proving it to yourselves in the morning," major de trouville told them. "you shall accompany the first scouting party that goes out. we will send out two photographing machines, and enough of a squadron to meet anything the huns can put forth. paris shall be delivered from the boche pests!" "we'll do our best," said tom, and jack nodded in agreement. it did not take long for the news to spread about camp lincoln that the two young united states aviators had, very probably, discovered by accident the big german gun. and in telling what they had seen tom and jack remarked that the peculiar tri-colored fire had been in the midst of other flashes of flame, and, doubtless, smoke, but that could not be seen on account of the darkness. "the other flashes were probably guns fired to camouflage the flash from the giant cannon, or possibly cannons," observed major de trouville. "but we shall see what to-morrow brings forth." the hours of the night seemed long, but there was much to do to get ready for the next day's operations. more aviators were sent for, and the men of the air spent many hours tuning up their motors and seeing to their guns, while the big machines, which it was hoped could take pictures of the giant cannon's position, were gone over carefully. in addition some powerful french guns were brought up--some of the longest range guns available, and it was hoped that the big aeroplanes might signal by wireless the exact location of the super-gun, so that a devastating fire could be poured on it, as well as bombs be dropped from some machines especially fitted for that work. camp lincoln, where the picked squadron was situated, was in the neighborhood of soissons, france, in a sector held by the french troops. the lines of german and french trenches, with no man's land in between, was about ten miles to the east of this point. this section had changed hands twice, once being occupied by the germans, and then abandoned by them when they made the great withdrawal. now, perhaps ten miles back of the german trenches, the great gun was hidden, making its total distance from paris about eighty miles, but its distance from camp lincoln something less than twenty miles. modern guns easily shoot that distance, but the commander of the forces in this section was going to shorten that. soissons was the nearest large city to the camp. as a matter of fact the air squadron was some distance east of that place, and nearer the battleline. so that it was comparatively easy, once the location of the big gun was known, to bring up heavy artillery behind the french lines to batter away at its emplacement. after a night of arduous labor, during which there was anxiety lest the germans find out what was going on, morning broke, and to the relief of all it was bright. there was an early breakfast, and then the aviators' helpers wheeled the machines from the hangars. several big photographing craft were in readiness, and ten bombing planes were in reserve. major de trouville inspected his brave men. they were as eager as dogs on the leash to be off and at the throat of the huns. a wireless message from paris had come in soon after breakfast, stating that nearly a score had been killed in the capital the previous night by fire from the "bertha." "and it's up to us to avenge them!" exclaimed jack. "that is what we'll do if we have any luck!" added tom grimly. there was a last consultation of the officers, instructions were gone over, and everything possible done to insure success. the moment a big gun was sighted, the signal was to be given and the french long-range cannon would open fire, while the bombing machines would also do their part. "all ready! go!" called the major, and there was a rattle and a roar that drowned his last word. the men of the air were off. led by tom and jack, the others followed. up and up they arose, the smaller planes flying high as a protection to the more cumbersome machines of the bi-motored type. and soon the squadron, the largest that had yet ascended from camp lincoln, was hovering over the german lines. the huns seemed to realize that something more than an ordinary attack from the air was impending, for soon after the anti-aircraft guns began firing a swarm of german aviators took the air, and there was no shirking battle this time. the huns so evidently felt the desperate need of driving away their attackers, that this, more than what the major and lieutenant had said, convinced tom and jack that they were at last on the track of the big gun. of course the two boys could not communicate with one another, but they said afterward that their thoughts were the same. the battle of the air opened with a rush and a roar. the germans, though outnumbered by their opponents, did not hesitate, but came on fiercely. they attacked first the big photographing planes, for they realized that these were the real "eyes" of the squadron. the impressions they received, and the views they carried back, might mean the failure of the german plans. but the french were ready for this, and the swift little nieuports, dashing here and there, swooping and rising, attacked the other planes vigorously. it was give and take, hammer and tongs, fire and be fired on, smash and be smashed. it was not as one-sided a battle as it would seem it might have been owing to the superiority of numbers in favor of the french--at least at first. several of the allies' planes were sent down, either out of control, or in flames. but the huns paid dearly for their quarry. jack and tom ran serious risks, for the germans, realizing that the two leading planes had some special mission, attacked them fiercely. tom managed to shake off and disable his antagonist. but jack's man shot with such good aim that he pierced his gasolene tank, and had it not been that jack was able to thrust into the hole one of some wooden plugs he had brought along for the purpose, he might have had to come down within the german lines. but the wood swelled, filled the hole, and then the petrol came out so slowly that there was comparatively little danger. and having, with some of their companions, fought their way through the german air patrol, and having escaped with minor damage to their guns, jack and tom looked down at the place where they had seen the queer lights. and then, high up and at a vantage point, while below them hovered their photographing planes, the two young aviators beheld a curious sight. in german-occupied territory, but on french soil, they saw near a railroad junction, where they were fairly well hidden in a camouflaged position, not one, but three monster hun cannons. the guns looked more like gigantic cranes than like the accepted form of a great rifled piece of armament. the guns were so mounted that they could be run out on a small track at the moment of firing, and then propelled back again, like some of the disappearing cannon at sandy hook and other united states forts. only the german guns advanced and retreated horizontally, while the usual method is vertically. "we've discovered 'em! there they are!" cried tom, but of course he could not hear his own voice above the roar of his motor. but he knew that he and jack were over the very spot where the night before they had seen the colored flares from the great guns. and they had, indeed, by a most lucky chance, located the big german guns, for there were three of them. they were placed almost midway between the railroad station of crepyen-lannois and the two forts known as "joy hills," forts which had fallen into german hands. there were two railroad spur lines from the station, and on these the heavy guns were moved to position to fire, and then run back again. other spur lines were under course of construction, jack and tom, as well as the other airmen, could observe, indicating that other guns were to be mounted, perhaps to take the place of some that might be destroyed. as a matter of fact, as was learned later, there were but two guns in service at this time, one of the three having burst.[ ] [footnote : while of course this story is fiction, the description given above of the great guns and their method of firing and concealment is strictly in accord with the facts, and made from a sight of aeroplane photographs taken by the french, and from an official report, published april , , by deputy charles leboucq of the department of the seine.] even as the french squadron came hovering over the place where the german monster guns were placed, the advance of tom, jack and their comrades being disputed by the huns, one of the super-guns was run out to fire on its specially constructed platform. that this should be done in the very faces of the french was probably accounted for by the fact that the germans were taken by surprise. it took some little time to arrange for firing one of the big cannons, and it was probably too late, after the french airmen were hovering above it, to get word to the crew not to discharge it. as it happened, tom and jack, with boughton, who had kept pace with them, witnessed the firing of the big gun. as it was discharged, ten other heavy guns, but, of course, of much less range, were fired off, being discharged as one to cover the report of the giant mortar. and at the same time dense clouds of smoke were sent up from surrounding hills, in an endeavor to screen the big gun from aeroplane observation. but it was too late. in another moment, and even as the echoes of the reports of the ten cannons and the big gun were rumbling, the bombing machine of the french came up and began to drop explosives on the spot. at the same time word of the location of the great cannon was wirelessed back to the camp, and there began a devastating fire on the guns that had been, and were even then, bombarding paris. chapter xxii over the rhine it was a battle of the air and on the ground at the same time. from above the french, american and british airmen were dropping tons of explosives on the emplacements of the big guns and on the railway spurs that brought them to the firing points. it might seem an easy matter for an airship flying over a place to drop an explosive bomb on it and destroy it. but, on the contrary, it is very difficult. the bombing plane must be constantly on the move, and it takes a pretty good eye to calculate the distance from a great height sufficiently well to make a direct hit. but a certain percentage of the bombs find their mark, and they did in this case. tom and jack, as well as the other scouts, looking down from their planes, saw fountains of brown earth being tossed into the air as the french bombs exploded. at the same time the photographers in the other planes were making pictures of the guns and their location. they were hindered in this not only by the shooting of the germans from below, who were working their anti-aircraft guns to their capacity, but by screens of smoke clouds, which were emitted by a special apparatus to hide the big guns. at the same time other cannons were being fired to disguise the sound from the immense long-range weapon, but this was of little effect, now that the location had been discovered. meanwhile a score or more of the hun planes appeared in the air. they had taken flight as soon as their pilots saw the squadron of enemy machines approaching, and were eager, this time, to give battle. "our work's being cut out for us," murmured tom, as he steered his machine to engage a german who seemed eager for the fray. tom sent a spray of bullets at his enemy, and was fired at in turn. he knew his craft had been hit several times, but he did not think it was seriously damaged. jack, too, as he could tell by a quick glance, was also engaged with a german, but tom had no time then to bestow on mere observation. his antagonist was a desperate hun, bent on the utter destruction of tom's machine. they came to closer quarters. down below the fighting was growing more furious. it was in the form of an artillery duel. for now the french observation machines were wirelessing back the range, and french shells were falling very near the big guns. the heavy guns, in modern warfare, are placed miles away from the objects they wish to hit, and the only way to know where the targets are is by aeroplane observation. when the guns are ready to fire one of the artillery control planes goes up over the enemy's territory. of course it is the object of the enemy to drive it away if possible. but, hovering in the air, the observer in the double-motored machine notes the effect of the first shot from his side's cannon. if it goes beyond the mark he so signals by wireless. if it falls short he sends another signal. thus the range is corrected, and finally he sees that the big shells are landing just where they are needed to destroy a battery, or whatever is the object aimed at. the observation complete, the machine goes back over its own lines--if the germans let it. this sort of work was going on below them while tom, jack and the others in the nieuports were engaging in mortal combat with the hun fliers. some of the heavy french shells fell beyond the emplacements of the big guns, and others were short. the observers quickly made corrections by wireless for the gunners. tom raymond, after a desperate swoop at his antagonist, sent him down in flames, and then, seeking another to engage, at the same time wondering how jack had fared, the young aviator looked down and saw one of the largest of the french shells fall directly at the side of the foremost of the three german giant cannons. there was a terrific explosion. of course, tom could not hear it because of his height and the noise his motor was making, but he could see what happened. a great breach was made in the long barrel of the german gun, and its emplacement was wrecked, while the men who had been swarming about the place like ants seemed to melt into the earth. they were blotted out. "one gone!" exclaimed tom grimly. and then he noted that the other two guns had been withdrawn beneath the camouflage. they were no longer in sight, and hitting them was a question of chance. still the french batteries kept up their fire, hoping to make another hit, but it would be a matter of mere luck now, for the guns were out of observation. the airmen observers, however, still had a general idea of where the super-weapons were, and the french gunners continued to send over a rain of shells, while the bombing machines, save one that had been destroyed by the german fire, kept dropping high explosives in the neighborhood. "the place will be badly chewed up, at any rate," mused tom. he glanced in the direction where he had last seen jack, and to his horror saw his chum's machine start downward in a spinning nose dive. "i wonder if they've got him, or if he's doing that to fool 'em," thought tom. as he was temporarily free from attack at that instant he started toward his friend. hovering over him, and spraying bullets at jack, was a german machine, and tom realized that this fighter might have injured, or even killed, jack. "well, i'll settle your hash, anyhow!" grimly muttered the young birdman to himself. he sailed straight for the hun, who had not yet seen him, and then tom opened fire. it was too late for the german to turn to engage his second antagonist, and tom saw the look of hopelessness on his face as the bullets crashed into his machine, sending it down a wreck. "so much for poor old jack!" cried tom. they were well over the german lines now, and the fight was going against the french. that is, they were being outnumbered by the hun planes, which were numerous in the air. but the french had accomplished their desperate mission. one of the german guns was out of commission, and perhaps others, while the location had been made "considerably unhealthy," as boughton expressed it afterward. it was time for the french to retire, and those of their machines that were able prepared to do this. but tom was going to see first what happened to jack before he returned to his lines. "he may be spinning down, intending to get out of a bad scrape that way, and then straighten for a flight toward home," mused tom. "or he may be--" but he did not finish the sentence. there was but one way for tom to be near jack when the latter landed--if such was to be his fate--and to give him help, provided he was alive. and that was for tom himself to go down in a spinning nose dive, which is the speediest method by which a plane can descend. but there is great danger that the terrific speed may tear the wings from the machine. "i'm going to risk it, though," decided tom. down and down he spun, and as he looked; he became aware, to his joy, that jack had his machine under some control. "he isn't dead yet, by any means," thought tom. "but he may be hurt. i wonder if he can make a good landing? if he does it will be inside the german lines, though, and then--" but tom never faltered. he must rescue his chum, or attempt to, at all hazards. down went both machines, jack's in the lead, and then, to his joy, tom saw his friend bring the machine on a level keel again and prepare to make a landing. this was in a rather lonely spot, but already, in the distance, as tom could note from his elevated position, germans were hurrying toward the place, ready to capture the french machine. "if he's alive i'll save him!" declared tom. "my machine will carry double in a pinch, but he'll have to ride on the engine hood." tom was going to take a desperate chance, but one that has been duplicated and equalled more than once in the present war. he was going to descend as near jack's wrecked machine as he could, pick up his chum, and trust to luck to getting off again before the germans could arrive. that jack was once more master of his craft became evident to his friend. for the nieuport was slowing down and jack was making ready for as good a landing as possible under the circumstances. it was plain, however, that his machine was damaged in some way, or he would have gone on flying toward his own lines. tom saw his chum drop to the ground, and then saw him quickly climb out of his seat, loosing the strap that held him in. by this time other german planes were swooping toward the place, and a squad of cavalry was also galloping toward it. "i'll beat you, though!" cried tom fiercely. he throttled down his engine, intending to give it just enough gas to keep it going, for he would have no one to start it for him if the motor stalled. he calculated that he could taxi the craft across the ground slowly enough for jack to jump on and then he could get away, saving both of them. jack understood the plan at once. he waved his hand to tom to show that he would be ready, and tom felt a joy in his heart as he realized that his chum was uninjured. down to the ground went tom, and he guided his machine toward jack, standing beside his own damaged craft, waiting. suddenly there was a sharp report, and tom saw jack's machine burst into flames. "he fired into the gasolene tank!" thought tom. "that's the boy! he isn't going to let the huns get his machine and the maps and instruments. good!" jack leaped back from the blaze that suddenly enveloped his aeroplane and then ran toward tom's machine. as he leaped upon the engine hood, which he could do with little more risk than boarding a swiftly moving trolley car, there was a burst of rifle fire from the cavalry, some of which had reached the scene. jack gave a gasping cry, and fell limp. he almost slipped from the motor hood, but with one hand tom quickly fastened his companion's life belt to the support and then, knowing jack could not fall off, opened his engine wide. across the ground the double-loaded craft careened, while the cavalry opened fire. "if they hit me now, it's all up with both of us!" thought tom desperately. but though the bullets splattered all around him, and some hit the machine, neither he nor jack was struck again, nor was any vital part of the machinery damaged. poor jack, though, seemed lifeless, and tom feared he had arrived the fraction of a minute too late. then up rose tom's plane, up and up, the powerful engine doing its best, though the machine was carrying double weight. but the nieuports are mechanical wonders, and once the craft was free of the earth it began climbing. fortunately there were no swift german machines near enough to give effective chase, though some of the heavier bi-motored craft opened fire, as did the cavalry from below, as well as some of the anti-aircraft guns. but tom, keeping on full speed, soon climbed up out of danger, and then swung around for a flight toward his own lines. he could see, ahead of him, the fleet of french planes, going back after the raid on the big guns. tom's plane was the rearmost one. then he knew that he was safe! but he feared for jack! one after another, such as were left of the raiding party landed. their comrades crowded around them, congratulating them with bubbling words of joy. yet there was sorrow for those that did not return. "is he dead?" asked tom, as orderlies quickly unstrapped jack, and prepared to carry him to the hospital. "is he dead?" "alive, but badly wounded," said a surgeon, who made a hasty examination. and then all seemed to become dark to tom raymond. "well, jack, old man, how do you feel?" "oh, pretty good! how's yourself?" "better, now that they've let me in to see you." "you got the big guns, i understand." "you mean _you_ did, too. it was as much your doings as mine. yes, we sprayed 'em good and proper. they won't fire on paris again right away, but i suppose they'll not give up the trick, once they have learned it. but we have their number all right. now you want to hurry up and get well." jack was in the hospital recovering from several bullet wounds. they had not been as dangerous as at first feared, but they were bad enough. tom had come to see him and give some of the details of the great raid, which jack had been unable to hear because of weakness. now he was convalescing. "what's the idea of hurry?" asked jack. "are we going after more big cannon?" "no, this is a different stunt now. we're going over the rhine." "over the rhine?" and jack sat up in bed. "monsieur--i must beg--please do not excite him!" exclaimed a pretty nurse, hurrying up. "the doctor said he must keep quiet." "but i want to hear about this," insisted jack. "over the rhine! say, that'll be great! carrying the war into the enemy's country for fair!" "i'll tell you a little later," promised tom, moving away in obedience to an entreaty from the nurse. chapter xxiii off for germany whether it was tom's news or jack's natural health was not made clear, but something certainly caused jack parmly to recover strength much more rapidly then the surgeons had believed possible, so that he was able to leave the hospital soon after tom's visit. "and now i want you to explain what you meant by saying we were to go over the rhine," jack insisted to his chum. "i've been wondering and thinking about it ever since you mentioned it, but none of them would tell me a thing." "no, i reckon not," chuckled tom. "why, you old sphinx?" "because they didn't know. it's a secret." "can you tell me?" "sure! because you're going to be in it if you are strong enough." "strong enough? of course i'll be! why, i'm feeling better every minute! now you go ahead and relieve my anxiety. but first tell me--have you had any news of your father?" tom shook his head. "not a word," he answered. "i'm beginning to feel that he has been captured by the germans." "that's bad," murmured jack. "and now, have you heard anything about--" "bessie and her mother?" finished tom, breaking in on his chum's question with a laugh. "yes, i'm glad i can give you good news there. they are all right, and i have a letter from bessie for you. she wants you to come and see her." "you have a letter? why didn't you give it to me before? you fish!" "it just came. and so did news about their safety." "then the spy didn't get 'em after all." "oh, yes, he got 'em all right! but he bungled the job, or rather, bessie bungled it for him. they were rescued, and the spy was locked up. we're to go to paris to see them. they'll tell us all about it then." "but what has that to do with our going over the rhine?" "nothing. we're to go to paris for a rest, and to get in shape for a big effort against the germans. i'll tell you about it." "forge ahead, then." tom got up to look at the doors and windows of the french cottage back of the lines, where jack had been moved to complete his recovery. tom and jack, after the sensational raid, had been given leave of absence. "i just want to make sure no one hears what i say, for it's a dead secret yet," tom went on. "but this is the plan. the french have several of the biggest and newest italian planes--planes that can carry half a dozen men and lots of ammunition. our aerodrome is going to be shifted to the alsace-lorraine front, and from there, where the distance to german territory is shorter than from here, we are to go over the rhine and bombard some of their ammunition and arms factories, and also railroad centers, if we can reach 'em." "good!" cried jack. "i'm with you from the fall of the hat!" "first you've got to build up a little," stated tom. "there is no great rush about this rhine-crossing expedition. a lot of plans have to be perfected, and we've got to try out the italian plane. and, before that, we are to go to paris." "who says so?" "major de trouville. he's greatly pleased with the result of the raid on the big german guns, and says we're entitled to a vacation. also he knows i want to make some more inquiries about my father. but i fear they will be useless," and tom sighed. "and are we to go to see mrs. gleason?" asked jack. "yes. and bessie, too. they'll tell us all that happened." a few days later, having received the necessary papers, tom and jack were once more on their way to the capital. and this time they did not, with others, have to suffer the danger and annoyance of the long-range bombardment. it was over for a time, but there was no guarantee that the germans would not renew it as soon as they could repair the damage done to their giant cannons. the boys found bessie and her mother in lodgings in a quiet part of paris, and were met with warm greetings. then the gleasons told their story. they had been inveigled out of their lodgings by the false note from the boys, and had immediately been taken in charge by the spy, who, it was proved, was an agent of the infamous potzfeldt. but bessie, after several days' captivity in an obscure part of the great city, managed to drop a letter out of the window, asking for help. the police were communicated with, and not only rescued mrs. gleason and her daughter, but caught the spy as well, and secured with him papers which enabled a number of germany's ruthless secret service agents to be arrested. it was because of the necessity for keeping this part of the work quiet that no word of the rescue of bessie and her mother was sent to the boys until after the big gun raid. there was much to be talked about when the friends met once more, and mrs. gleason said she and bessie were going back to the united states as soon as they could, to get beyond the power of potzfeldt. as tom had feared, there was no news of his father, but he did not yet give up all hope. "if he's a prisoner there's a chance to rescue him," he said. the time spent in paris seemed all too short, and it came to an end sooner than the boys wished. jack was almost himself again, though he limped slightly from one of the german bullets in his leg. there was every hope, however, that this would pass away in time. good-byes were said to bessie and her mother, and once more the two air service boys reported to their aerodrome. there they found not one, but two, of the big italian machines, which are capable of long flight, carrying loads that even the most ponderous bombing plane would be unable to rise with. preparations for the bold dash into the enemy's country went on steadily and swiftly. tom and jack were trained in the management of the big birds of the air, and though it was essentially different from what they had been used to in the nieuports and the caudrons, they soon mastered the knack of it, and became among the most expert. "i believe i made no mistake when i picked them to be part of the raiding force," said major de trouville. "indeed you did not," agreed lieutenant laigney. "their work in discovering the big guns, and their help in silencing them, showed what sort of boys they are." and finally the day came when those who were to take part in the raid across the rhine were to proceed to a point within the french lines from which the start was to be made. other italian planes would await them there, and there they would receive final instructions. they bade farewell to their comrades in camp lincoln, and were given final hand-shakes, while more than one, struggling to repress his emotion wished them "_bonne chance_!" this raid against one of the largest and most important of the german factory and railroad sections had long been contemplated and details elaborately worked out for it. the start was to be made from the nearest point in french-occupied territory, and it was calculated that the big italian machines could start early in the evening, cross the rhine, reach their objective by midnight, drop the tons of bombs and be back within the french lines by morning. such, at least, was the hope. whether it would be realized was a matter of anxious conjecture. at last all was in readiness. the final examinations of the machines and their motors had been made and the supplies and bombs were in place. "attention!" called the commander. "are you ready?" "ready!" came from tom, who was in command of one machine. "ready!" answered haught, who was in charge of the second. "then go, and may good fortune go with you!" there was a roar of the motors, and the big, ponderous machines started for germany. would they ever reach it? chapter xxiv prisoners under the evening stars, the two big italian machines slowly, and, it must be said, somewhat ponderously, as compared with a speedy nieuport, winged their way toward the german river, behind which it was hoped, some day, to drive the savage huns. "what do you think?" asked jack of his chum, for in these latest machines, by reason of the motors being farther from the passengers, and by means of tubes, some talk could be carried on. "i don't know just what to think," was the answer. "so much has happened of late, that it's almost beyond my thinking capacity." "that's right. and yet i can guess one thing you have in mind, tom, old scout." "what is it?" "your father! you're hoping you can rescue him." "that's right, i am. and as soon as this drive is over--if we come back from it with any measure of success, and i can get a long leave of absence--i'm going to make a thorough search for him." "and i'll be with you; don't forget that!" there was not time for too much talk of a personal nature, as tom and jack had to give their attention to the great plane. the motors were working to perfection, and with luck they should, within a few hours, be over the great german works, which they hoped to blow up. tom was in charge of the plane, but he had jack and others to help him, and there was a certain freedom of movement permitted, not possible in even the big photographing or bombing planes. down below little could be seen, for they were now over the french and german trenches, and neither side was showing lights for fear of attracting the fire of the other. but tom and jack had been coached in the course they were to take and, in addition, they had a pilot who, a few weeks before, had made a partially successful raid in the region beyond the rhine, barely escaping with his life. and so they flew on under the silent stars, that looked like the small navigating lights on other aeroplanes. but, as far as the raiders knew, they were the only ones aloft in that particular region just then. they had risen to a good height to avoid possible danger from the german anti-aircraft guns. there was not much danger from the german planes, as, of late, the huns had shown no very strong liking for night work, except in necessary defense. off to the left tom and jack could see the other big italian plane, in charge of haught. it carried only small navigating lights, carefully screened so as to be invisible from below. "i suppose you understand the orders," said tom, speaking to jack. "well, we went over them; but it wouldn't do any harm to refresh my memory. you're to be in general charge of the navigation of the plane, and i'm to see to dropping the bombs--is that it?" "that's it. you'll have to use your best judgment when it comes to your share. i'll get you over the german works and railroad centers, as nearly as i can in the dark, and then it will be up to you." "i hope i don't fail," said jack, speaking through the tube. "you won't. don't get nervous. any kind of a hit will throw a scare into the huns, and make them feel that they aren't the only ones who can make air raids. but in this case we're not bombing a defenseless town, and killing women and children. this is a fortified place we're going over, and it's well defended." "some difference," agreed jack. "and if we can get some direct hits," went on tom, "and blow to smithereens some of their munition or armament factories, we'll be so much nearer to winning the war." and that, in brief, was the object of the flight over the rhine. once more the boys fell silent. on and on swept the planes. whether the germans beneath were aware of the danger that menaced them, it is impossible to say. but they made no attempt to fire on the italian craft. probably because of the darkness, and owing to the great height at which they flew, the huns were in ignorance of what was taking place. on and on in the night and beneath the silent stars they flew. now tom and the pilot began watching for some landmark--some cluster of lights which would tell them their objective was within sight. but for another hour nothing was done save to guide the big craft steadily onward. once, as jack looked down, he saw what seemed to be a city, and he thought this might be the place where the great factories were situated. "no, it's an important town," tom said, in answer to his chum's inquiries, "but it is only a town--not a fortress, as the huns call london. that isn't fair game for us." but half an hour later the pilot spoke sharply, and gave an order. he pointed downward and ahead and there a faint glow, and one that spread over a considerable area, could be made out. "that is where we are to drop the bombs," said tom to jack. the other machine, which had flown somewhat behind the one in which were the two chums, now swerved over at greater speed. her pilot, too, had picked up the objective. and now began the most dangerous part of the mission. for it would not do to drop the bombs from too great a height. there was too much risk of missing the mark. the planes must descend, and then they would be within range of the defensive guns. but it had to be done, and the order was given. as jack and tom went lower, in company with the other plane, they observed that they were over a great extent of factory buildings, where german war work was going on. and now the noise of their motors was heard. searchlights flashed out below them, and stray beams picked them up. then the anti-aircraft guns began to bark. "we're in for a hot time!" cried jack. "you said it!" echoed tom, as he steered the great plane to get into an advantageous position. through a glare of light, and amid a hail of shots, the great airships rushed down to hover over the german factories. they would not let go their bombs until in a position to do the most damage, and this took a little time. "how about it, tom?" asked jack, for he was anxious to begin dropping the bombs. "just another minute. we'll go down a little lower, and so do all the more damage." and down the airship went. she was hit several times, for shrapnel was bursting all around, but no material damage was done, though one of the observers was wounded. "now!" suddenly signaled tom. "there they go!" shouted jack, and he released bomb after bomb from the retaining devices. down they dropped, to explode on striking, and the loud detonations could be heard even above the roar of the motors. tom noted that the other machine was also doing great destruction, and he saw that their object had been accomplished. several fires broke out below them in different parts of the factory property, and soon the germans had to give so much attention to saving what they could, that their fire against the hostile airships noticeably slackened. "any more bombs left, jack?" asked tom. "a few," answered his chum. "let 'em have it now. we're right over a big building that seems to be untouched." down went the bombs, and such an explosion resulted that it could mean but one thing. they had set off a munition factory. this, as the boys afterward learned, was the case. so great was the blast that the great plane skidded to one side, and a moment later there came a cry of alarm from some of the crew. "what's the matter?" shouted tom. "out of control," was the answer. "one of the motors has stopped, and we've got to go down." "can't we go up?" "no!" was the despairing answer. "we've got to land within the german lines." and down the great italian plane went, while her sister ship of the air sailed safely off, for it would have been foolhardy for her to have tried to come to the rescue. the crew worked desperately to send their craft up again, but it was useless. lower and lower she went, fortunately not being fired at, so great was the confusion caused by the destruction of the factories. "take her down as far away as possible from this scene," said tom to one of his men. "if we land in a lonely place we may be able to make repairs and get up again." "i will," was the answer. through the light from the burning buildings, a spot in a level field was selected for a landing. and down the italian plane went. a hasty examination showed little wrong with the motor, and this little was quickly repaired. but the hope of getting the airship to rise again was frustrated, for just as the raiding party was about to take its place in the machine again, a company of german soldiers came running over the fields, demanding the surrender of the intrepid men of the air. there was nothing else to do--no time to set the craft on fire. so it fell into the hands of the germans! tom, jack and the others were prisoners! chapter xxv the escape "well, this is tough luck!" "tough is no name for it, jack. it's the worst ever! i don't suppose they'll do a thing to us after what we did to the factories." "no. we certainly scotched 'em good and proper. everything went off like a tea party, except our coming down. and we could have gotten up again, only those germans didn't give us a chance." "you can't blame 'em for that." "no, i suppose not. but it's hard lines. i wonder why they're keeping us here?" tom and jack were talking thus while held prisoners by the germans, after the airship raid over the rhine. it was an hour after they had been forced to descend. so sudden had been the rush of the german infantry that no chance was had to destroy the great italian plane, and it, and all the crew, including the two air service boys, had been overpowered, and disarmed. they were thrust into what might pass for a guardhouse, and then, a guard having been posted, the other soldiers hurried back to aid in fighting the fire which had been started in the great factories, and which was rapidly spreading to all the german depot. "well, it's worth being captured to think of the damage we've inflicted on the huns this night," observed jack, as he stood with tom in the midst of their fellow prisoners. "that's right. we don't need to be ashamed of our work, especially as we've helped put the big guns out of business. i reckon the boches won't treat us any too well, when they know what we've done." "and the other plane got away, they tell me," observed one of the french crew. "yes, i saw her rise and light out for home, after dropping a ton or so of bombs on this district," said tom. "well, she can go back and report a success." "and let the folks know we're prisoners," said jack. "it's tough luck, but it had to be, i suppose! we're lucky to be alive." "you said it," agreed tom. "we came through a fierce fire, and it's a wonder that we weren't all shot to pieces. as it is, the plane is as good as ever." "yes, and if we could only get out to it, and start it going we could escape," observed one of the frenchmen bitterly. "there she is now, on as good a starting field as one could wish!" from their stockade of barbed wire they could look out and see, by the glare of the flames, that the great plane stood practically undamaged. a good landing had been made, but, unfortunately, in the midst of the german ammunition depot section. "whew, that was a fierce one!" exclaimed jack, as a loud explosion fairly shook the place where they were held prisoners. "some ammunition went up that time." indeed the explosion did seem to be a disastrous one, for there was considerable shouting and the delivering of orders in german following the blast. many of the soldiers who had been summoned to stand on guard about the barbed-wire stockade, where the captured raiders were held, were summoned away, leaving only a small number on duty. but as these were well armed, and as the wire stockade was a strong one, and as jack, tom and the others had nothing with which to make a fight, they were as safely held as though guarded by a regiment. "there goes another!" cried jack, as a second detonation, almost as loud as the first, shook the ground. "some of our bombs must have been time ones." "no," said tom. "what's probably happening is that the fire is reaching stores of ammunition, one after the other. this whole place may go up in a minute." that seemed to be the fear on the part of the germans, for more orders were shouted, and all but two of the soldiers guarding the captives were summoned away from the wire stockade. there had been a bright flare of fire after the second explosion, but this soon died away, and the shouts and commands of the officers directing the fire-fighting force could be heard. tom and jack were standing near the wire barrier trying to look out to see what was going on beyond a group of ruined factory buildings, and at the same time casting longing eyes at the great aeroplane which seemed only waiting for them, when the two boys became aware of a figure which appeared to be slinking along the side of the stockade. this figure acted as though it desired to attract no attention, for it kept as much as possible in the shadows. "did you see that?" asked jack of his churn in a low voice. "yes. what do you make it out to be?" "he isn't a german soldier, for he isn't in uniform. have any of our crowd found a way out of this place by any chance?" "i don't know. if they have--" the boy's words were broken off by a low-voiced call from the slinking figure. it asked: "are you american, french or english prisoners?" "some of each variety," answered jack, while at the sound of that voice tom raymond felt a thrill of hope. "if you get out, is there a chance for you to get away in your aircraft?" the figure in the shadow questioned. "be careful, don't let the guards hear." "there are only two, and they're over at the front gate," said jack, as tom drew nearer in order better to hear the tones of that voice. "they seem more occupied in watching the fire than in looking at us," went on jack. "good!" exclaimed the man. "now listen. i am an american, and i was captured by the germans, through spy work, some time ago, in paris. i was brought here, and they have been trying to force me to disclose the secret of some of my inventions. "i refused, and was sentenced to be shot to-morrow. but to-night you fortunately raided this place. my prison was one of the places to be blown up, and i managed to escape, without being hurt much. i heard that they had captured the crew of one of the airships, and i came to see if i could help. they don't know yet that i'm free, and i have two hand grenades. "now listen carefully. i'll throw the grenades at the front gate. by shattering that it may be possible for you to get out. the two sentries, will have to take the chances of war. if you get out can you get away in your airship?" "yes, and we can take you with us--dad!" exclaimed tom in a tense whisper. "who speaks?" hoarsely asked the man in the shadow of the stockade. "it is i--your son--tom raymond! oh, thank heaven i have found you at last!" exclaimed tom, and he tried to stretch his hand through the barbed wire, but it was too close. "is it really you, tom, my boy?" asked mr. raymond in a broken voice, full of wonder. "yes! and to think i should find you here, of all places!" whispered tom. "i won't stop now to ask how it happened. can you throw those grenades at the gate?" "i can, and will! tell your friends to run back to the far end of the stockade to avoid being hurt. i can crouch down behind some of the ruined walls." tom and jack quickly communicated the good news to their friends, that a rescue was about to be attempted. it was a desperate chance, but they were in the mood for such. the two guards alone remaining of the force that had been posted about the stockade were so distracted by the fires and explosions around them, and so fearful of their own safety, that they did not pay much attention to the prisoners. so when tom and jack passed the word, and the airship crew ran to the end of the stockade and crouched down to avoid injury when the hand grenades should be exploded, the guards paid little attention. mr. raymond, for it was indeed he, crawled to a position of vantage, and then threw the hand grenades. they were fitted with short-time fuses, and almost as soon as they fell near the stockade gate they exploded with a loud report. a great hole was torn in the ground, and one of the sentries was killed while the other was so badly injured as to be incapable of giving an alarm. the gate was blown to pieces. "come on!" cried tom to his friends, as he saw what his father had done. "it's now or never, before they rush in on us." they raced to the breach in the wire wall of the stockade. mr. raymond, springing up from where he had taken refuge behind a pile of refuse, was there to greet those he had saved, and he and tom clasped hands silently in the gloom that was lighted up by the fires and the bursts of light from the munition explosions. "oh, dad! and it's really you!" murmured tom. "yes, my boy! _i_ never expected to see you again. did you know i was here?" "i never dreamed of it! but don't let's stop to talk. we must get to the airship at once! but you are wounded, dad!" "nothing but a splinter from a bomb. it's only a cut on the head, son," and mr. raymond wiped away the blood that trickled down on his face. the newly freed prisoners lost no time. with a rush they made for the airship. if they could only get aboard and start it off all would yet be well. could they do it? momentary silence had followed the detonation of the two hand grenades thrown by mr. raymond, but now there came yells of rage from the germans, disclosing that they had become aware of what was going on. "lively, everybody!" cried tom, as he led the way to the big plane. "are we all here?" asked jack. a rapid count showed that not one of the brave force had been left behind. "is there room for me?" asked mr. raymond. "well, i should say so!" "if there isn't i'll stay behind," cried jack. "no you won't!" exclaimed tom. "there'll be room all right!" the running men reached the plane just as they could see, in the light of the burning factories, a squad of germans rushing to intercept them. in haste they scrambled aboard, and pressed the self-starter on the engine. there was a throbbing roar, answered by a burst of fire from the german rifles, for the place had been so devastated that no machine guns were available just then. "all aboard?" asked tom, as he stood ready to put the motors at full speed and send the craft along the ground, and then up into the air. "all aboard--we're all here!" answered jack, who had kept count. and mr. raymond was included. then with a louder roar the motors jumped to greater speed, and the italian plane started off. in another instant it rose into the air. with yells of rage the germans even tried to hold it back with their hands, and, failing, they increased their fire. but though the plane was hit several times, and two on board shot, one later dying from his wounds, the whole party got off. a few minutes later they were above the burning factories, and had a view of the great destruction wrought on the german base. so completely destroyed was it that few defense guns were left in condition to fire at the aeroplane. "well, we did that in great shape!" exclaimed jack, as they were on their way over the rhine again. "couldn't have been better," conceded tom. "and, best of all, we have dad with us." "how did it all happen?" asked jack. "i don't know. we'll hear the story when we are safe in france." and safe they were as the gray morning broke. they arrived just as the crew of the other plane were relating, with sorrow, the fall of tom, jack and their comrades, and the rejoicing was great when it was known they were safe, and had not only outwitted the huns, but had brought away a most important prisoner. "and now let's hear how it all happened," begged major de trouville, when the injured had been made as comfortable as possible. there were three of these, and one dead on the plane that returned first. the story of the attack on the german base was given in detail, and then mr. raymond took up the tale from the point where he had landed in europe. he had started for paris, just as he had written tom, and had taken lodgings in the rue lafayette. he went out just before the starting of the bombardment by the big gun, and so escaped injury, but he fell into the hands of some german spies, who were on his trail, and who succeeded, after having drugged him, in getting him into germany. the spies had succeeded in getting on the trail of a new invention mr. raymond had perfected, and which he had offered to the allies. he had come to paris on this business. the huns demanded that he devote it to their interests, but he refused, and he had been held a prisoner over the rhine, every sort of pressure being brought to bear on him to make him accede to the wishes of his captors. "but i refused," he said, "and they decided i should be shot. whether this was bluff or not i don't know. but they never got a chance at me. in the night i heard, in my prison, the sound of explosions, and i soon realized what had happened. it was your bold airship raid, and one of the bombs burst my prison. i ran out and saw the italian planes in the air. "what then happened you know better than i, but what you probably do not know is that you very likely owe your lives to a dispute that arose between the german infantry and the air squadron division," and he indicated tom, jack and the others who had been in the stockade. "how was that?" asked jack. "the airmen claimed you as their prey, and the infantrymen said they were entitled to call you theirs. so, even in the midst of the fire and destruction, the commandant had to order you put in the stockade until he could decide whose prisoners you were. the infantrymen said they had captured you, but the airmen said their fire had brought down your plane." "well, that was partly true," said tom. "but it was an explosion from below that knocked us out temporarily. but we're all right now. and so are you, aren't you, dad?" "yes, but i worried a lot, not knowing what had happened to you, tom, and being unable to guess what would happen to me. i was in the hands of clever and unscrupulous enemies. how clever they were you can judge when i tell you they took me right out of paris. perhaps the bombardment made it easier. but tell me--what of the big guns?" "some of them are out of commission, thanks to your brave boy and his comrades," said major de trouville. "good!" cried mr. raymond. "some rumor to that effect sifted in to me there, but it seemed too good to be true. the germans must be wild with rage." "i guess they are," admitted jack. "and it would have gone hard with you if they had found you were the ones responsible," went on tom's father. "as soon as i was out of my prison and saw the state of affairs, i managed to get the grenades, and i decided to rescue the airship men if i could. i never dreamed my own son would be among them, or that i might be brought away." and now it but remains to add that because of their exploits tom and jack received new honors at the hands of the grateful french, and, moreover, were promoted. mr. raymond, who had steadfastly refused to reveal the secret of his invention to the huns, immediately turned it over to the allies. word of mr. raymond's safety and of the success of tom and jack was sent to those in bridgeton, and that city had new reasons for being proud of her sons. but the war was not over, and the germans might be expected to develop other forms of frightfulness besides the long-range guns, which, for the time being, were silenced. however, the destruction of the factories and ammunition stores by the raid over the rhine was a blow that told heavily on the hun. "well, it seems there's another vacation coming to us," said tom to jack one morning, as they walked away from the breakfast table in their mess. "yes? well, i think we can use it. what do you say to a run into paris to see your father? he's surely there now, and i'd like to have a talk with him." "with--_him?_" asked tom, and there was a peculiar smile on his face. "of course," said jack. "oh," was all tom answered, but he laughed heartily. and so, with tom and jack on their way to paris, for a brief respite from the war, we will take leave of them for a time. that they were destined to take a further part in the great struggle need not be doubted, for the air service boys were not the ones to quit until the world had been made a decent place in which to live. the end airplane boys in the black woods by e. j. craine the world syndicate publishing co. cleveland, o. new york, n. y. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ copyright, by the world syndicate publishing company printed in the united states of america by the commercial bookbinding co. cleveland, o. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the airplane boys accidentally bump into a new mystery which is only solved after many pages of excitement in this seventh book of air adventures. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ contents i. a reception committee ii. kidnapped iii. the horrible cavern iv. ghosts v. the way out vi. an old enemy vii. the end of the way viii. when the butterflies die ix. the ghosts of bloody dam x. an invitation xi. revenge xii. the fight in the passage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ airplane boys in the black woods chapter i. a reception committee "holy clover, that fellow would make his fortune in a dairy, all right," exclaimed bob caldwell glancing over the side of the plane the flying buddies had borrowed while the "lark," their own splendid machine was undergoing much needed repairs at the shop of the british hangar in belize. "his fortune, how do you make that out?" jim austin demanded. "i'll bite, let's have the answer." "he'd do the biting--that one tooth ought to be great to make holes in swiss cheese!" "if i didn't need both hands you would get a wallop that would leave you only one tooth, then you could start competition," austin answered. "well," he added as the plane came to a stop, "this sure looks as if you will find enough different kinds of vegetation, old horticulturer, may your tribe increase." "sure does," replied bob with an eager light in his eyes as they went from one great tree or vine to another. "wonder who dropped that one-toother down in this place." the one-toother was a tall, emaciated, dark-skinned individual whose age, judging by the wrinkles on his body and face, was in the neighborhood of two hundred. his lips were thick, eyes sunken so deep in his head that they looked like burnt holes in a blanket, his huge mouth was wide open and from the upper jaw was the lone tooth. his only garment was an irregular bit of tiger skin suspended from a narrow woven grass belt which looked as if it might once have been decorated with a long fringe but only a few of the strands of its ancient grandeur remained. it was impossible to tell, either by his features or color if the man was a native indian or one of white blood who had been tanned and re-tanned through the long years spent in the tropical climate. he stood perfectly still facing the plane but the boys were not sure if he was staring at them or not. "suppose he's alive?" jim whispered. "he looks as if he'd been there as long as the trees," said bob, then he raised his voice. "you're looking hearty," he called. at that the queer creature of the forest gave a slight shudder which went from the top of his bald head to the soles of his bare feet, one bony arm was raised a few inches from the side of his body, and almost instantly he disappeared. "exit, the gentlemen from where!" "where in the name of mark antony did he go?" exclaimed austin in amazement. "reckon we came, he saw, and fled," supplemented bob. "let's have a look about. perhaps we'll have the pleasure of seeing him again, but we don't want to get too far from the plane, old timer, and we'd better watch our step. we are two little lads far, far from the home corrals and my guess is that that lad wasn't impressed with our looks." "too bad," lamented bob. "yes, reckon you wanted to study that vegetable," jim grinned. "he didn't look like any variety of life i've ever run across." the sky buddies climbed out of the cock-pit carefully surveying their surroundings and listening intently for a sound of the vanished ancient, but if he had never been near the spot it could not have been more quiet; not even the buzz of an insect disturbed the silence. from the air the boys had soared above a dense forest and it was only by chance that caldwell had noticed the small clear space and suggested that they land and see what it was like. the clearing was less than an acre of hard soil with a ridge of sharp rocks which protruded like saw-teeth diagonally across. it looked as if sharp-edged slabs of stone had been dropped when the soil was less packed; or it might, hundreds of years before, been the top-most edge of a wall so arranged as an added protection against animals or tribes that might attempt to scale it. as the ages had passed accumulated vegetation, falling or shifting rocks, and sands blown from distant miles have filled in the space leaving only this trace of what it once was. beyond the clear spot, which was highest in the middle, sloping somewhat like a dome, was the forest. great trees whose ancient trunks were hundred of years old, grew straight and high. the majority of them, as far as the buddies could see, had almost no low branches, but their massive limbs started more than half way up the boles, and each one overlapped with his neighbor so thick that the intense sun could not penetrate the foliage. beneath were smaller growths, many with long tangled roots twisted in grotesque shapes as they clung like giant arms to the rocks and disappeared in the soil. huge vines with stems as large as a good-sized sapling, clung tenaciously as they climbed upward, and many of them were in bloom which gave the place the look of a particularly beautiful bower. a few feet from where the boys were standing was a basin, into which a spring of clear water trickled from the crevice of a rock. that too had the appearance of great age for the opening through which the water had found its way, was worn in a smooth, deep groove. the basin itself was about three feet across in the widest place, and nearly as deep where the spring fell into it. from the lower edge it ran off in a tiny stream, winding about until it disappeared into the forest. "if we hadn't seen that oldest inhabitant i'd believe that ours are the first human feet to hit this place. say, it's kind of spooky, isn't it!" bob exclaimed softly. "it does look as if it has been waiting for a million years," jim admitted. his eyes were searching the dome-like surface of the place upon which they were standing. "wonder where the old boy took himself. he might be enoch. looks old enough. perhaps he just dropped down from heaven to have a look at the world; maybe wanted to see if it's changed much." "go on, he'd wear wings instead of a piece of tiger skin," jim answered. "what do you expect to learn around here, buddy? you never can get into the forest, not far, anyway, and you ought to be able to see the same sort of growths where it's less isolated." "surely, expect i could, but me hearty, the elephant's child has nothing on me for curiosity, and now i'm here--" "all right, old timer, i'm with you to any reasonable extent, but you remember how said child got his nose pulled. careful where you put yours," jim remarked. "i'll keep him in mind," bob chuckled. "have a look at this," jim's hand waved to designate the clearing. "suppose it could be the top of some temple that's been buried by earthquakes?" "might," bob agreed thoughtfully and examined the place more closely, but they kept close to the machine. "reckon we'd better watch closely; that chap may come back with some more angels." "he might. lucky we took bradshaw's helicopter instead of one of the other machines." "yes, even at that i'd rather have the 'lark'." "why not wait until she is fixed up then come back in her?" jim suggested. there was something awe-inspiring about the whole scene and he felt that they would be safer with their own plane, which had numerous extra instruments, greater speed, and was infinitely more easy to pilot than the canadian mounty's machine. "aw buddy, we want to get home sometime! i say, we started out, expecting to be gone not more than a couple of weeks and look how long we've been hanging around down here. i'd give a tooth right now to fork a real bronc and have a grand gallop across the ranches." "same here," jim nodded with a little sigh. "but since we are here i'd like to see more of what grows in this climate. we have to wait for the 'lark,' the message tube is safe in the hands of don haurea instead of in your pocket--" "or arthur gordon's," supplemented jim. "wow. i say, i bet a jack-straw against the white house that he was congratulating himself that we didn't take it back from him when he was laid out so nicely--" "i'd give a pair of colts to have seen his face when he opened the empty one. silver pants, but that was a streak of luck--" "i'll say it was. that was a mistake as was a mistake," bob chuckled. "gee, when i saw you let him take it away from you without so much as a yelp i might have known it was flukey. we couldn't put up a fight, all tied around like a pair of hot dogs, but you didn't even squirm. and you never knew that you'd sent it by the mail pilot from la paz--" "didn't discover it until just before gordon's gang flew over the 'lark' and dropped the big boy on our wings. some stunt that was, you have to hand it to him--" "yep. i'm going to get the lariats then have a look around; also a drink of water. that spring looks good enough to be the fountain of life. bet the old lad who was here must have filled up on it to renew his youth." "you nut. going around by the woods?" "right the first time. i won't go out of sight though. maybe you'd better stay here. my massive brain informs me that if some fellow should come along and round up that plane we'd be in a fix." "and how. there are miles of those woods." "then some." being cowboys of no mean standing, the flying buddies just naturally unhooked their ropes from their saddle horns when they changed from a horse to a plane, and on more than one occasion that habit of their lives had helped them through several mighty serious and tight spots. now caldwell got the two lariats, which had been transferred as a matter of course from the "lark" to the good-natured canadian's helicopter when they started on this observation trip. bob hoped he might discover, among the wild tropical growths, some fruits, roots or herbs which could be raised advantageously on his mother's own ranch, the cross-bar in texas. he was intensely interested in flying, thoroughly appreciated the joys and practicality of air travel for either long or short distances, but his love for the land and what might be done with the great acreage he would some day own, was uppermost in his thoughts. the horticultural and chemical department of don haurea's immense laboratory was the one from which he derived the greatest satisfaction; while electricity and mechanical sciences fascinated austin. "taking them both?" jim asked. "no, thought you might like to have yours handy." "thanks, old timer. maybe you'll see how enoch got away." "he had no wings so must have dug-in or crawled." bob strode off briskly toward the edge of the forest, leaving jim, the rope hanging loosely in his hand, to see that nothing happened to the plane. austin watched the younger boy stop at the lovely spring, scoop some of the clear water up in his hand, and take a good drink. "great stuff," he called. "feel as if i'd knocked off ten years." "go on," jim grinned. "don't drink any more. i do not know how to take care of infants." at that, bob shied a stone that struck the ground within an inch of his step-brother's foot, then proceeded. he reached the rim of the thick woods, where jim saw him pause, then start slowly around, scrutinizing everything that grew. keeping one eye on the lad, whose white suit made him easy to follow, austin glanced around at the ground and began to wonder what it had been and what it was. since his acquaintance with don haurea he had seen and been inside many marvelous underground caves, temples, ancient hiding-houses, homes of the once famous race of the yncas, as well as their vast laboratories. he knew that the lost empire had extended no further north than quito, hundreds of miles south of them, but he knew also that at the time of the spanish conquest of the americas, this northern portion of south america had been inhabited by intelligent indians whose origin none could trace. they too had built amazing temples, and it occurred to the boy that five hundred years ago, when the remnant of the conquered tribe had gotten together, some of them may have been mobilized from localities far from their original homes. it was not straining credulity to reason that some of the temples of the northern tribes might have been utilized to advantage, and certainly this dome-like clearing of rock, with its gurgling spring, might be over one of them, and the water might be forced through the stones so that the moisture would assure the underground community, if there was one, of dense growths which would be an added protection against invasion of their domains. jim remembered that the first time they had landed on the high plateau, known to peruvians as amy ran rocks, they had found an ancient indian woman apparently in possession of the place. at that time she had recognized the green emerald rings given the flying buddies by yncicea haurea and had told them to 'go in peace' but today, the ancient who had stood like a man struck dumb in amazement, had made no such identification. thinking it all over carefully, jim decided that the amy ran guardian was probably apprised of the boys' coming, while this man, if he watched an ancient fastness, had heard nothing of the flying buddies. "then, again," jim grinned. "this may all be perfectly natural land, formed so through the ages, and the indian a lad who lives in the forest as far from the whites as he can get. our dropping down on him was a surprise, and the minute he got his wind, he beat it. just the same, his exit was mighty sudden. he was standing near the water, then he just wasn't. i didn't see him run an inch or drop, but he surely did fade out pronto." that fact stuck in the boy's mind, and now bob was some distance from his starting point, so austin moved to the front of the helicopter lest he lose sight of the youngster. there was an uncanniness about the place, and jim wished that his step-brother would hurry with his investigations, but he appreciated the fact that bob was thoroughly interested in what he was doing, and that it would be unfair to urge his step-brother to shorten his investigations. they could not possibly linger in the country many days and this opportunity seemed like an especially good one which should be made the most of, while it was possible. suddenly, from the east, austin noticed a thick white cloud moving swiftly toward the coast, and forgetting caldwell for the moment, he studied it in puzzled wonder. it certainly was not vapor of any kind, it was too substantial looking, and another thing he observed was that it did not move with the wind, which was from the south, although the breeze did affect its direction somewhat. as it drew closer, he noticed that it was considerably deeper than when he first picked it out against the sky, also from its midst tiny particles, almost like snow, seemed to hesitate and fall. "what in heck?" jim had his field glasses slung in a case from his shoulder, and now he hastily took them out and in a moment was examining the strange phenomena. "well, what do you know about that!" he ejaculated. magnified by the glasses, the boy saw countless small, white butterflies, fluttering and poising in the sunlight. there were myriads of the tiny insects flying toward him, and as they came, hundreds of their number dropped out and tumbled toward the ground as if too exhausted to continue their journey. as the boy watched in astonishment he had no idea of what it was, then suddenly he remembered reading that every year the butterflies, their life work completed, start in a tremendous migration, drifting southeasterly along the sea coast until they finally reach the sea, where they drop exhausted into the water and die by the millions. he knew that science is unable to explain the strange instinct which prompts them to choose death sometimes thousands of miles from their breeding ground, and only a few weeks before he had read an article by someone who had seen this great funeral cortege when it hovered near a steamer. as the boy recalled, this migration usually took place in the autumn, but he decided that probably in different localities the time of year differed. "gee, they must be mighty tired," he exclaimed pityingly, "and i'll bet they are leaving a thick white track beneath them." they were getting so close now that he no longer needed the glass to see what they did. the outer edges of the "cloud" were thin, as if leaders or scouting parties were racing in advance, but from the main body so many were falling that they must have appeared like a strange sort of storm. several minutes more he watched, then he remembered his step-brother, and glanced in the direction where he had seen bob a bit earlier, but no white-suited boy stood out against the dark background of the dense foliage he had been examining, and jim's heart jumped into his mouth. "i say--" he moved in the direction caldwell had been going, then he stopped with a gasp, the shout died on his lips and for the moment jim was too paralyzed to make a move. about half way between the plane and the rim of the woods he saw three tall natives, their bodies naked except for the tiger-skin and the grass belt such as the ancient had worn; their heads adorned with a high dress of peacock feathers whose many colors shone brilliantly in the sunshine, in one hand each held a long spear with a glistening point, while the other held a number of small, deadly-looking darts. one of the men had an arm raised, his body was bent slightly toward the woods, and from his extended hand shot the javeral, cutting sharply like a hissing knife through the air, and to jim's horror, it was flying faster than the eye could travel, toward young caldwell's unsuspecting back. chapter ii. kidnapped as bob caldwell pursued his botanistic observations along the edge of the dense forest, his mind was filled with keen regret that he could not spend several weeks in the neighborhood with plenty of reference books to aid him in recognizing the numerous varieties of vegetation which surrounded him, and he also regretted the fact that they had found the old indian, or whatever he was, in the neighborhood because of course that meant that the spot was not so isolated as it appeared and in all likelihood there were others living close by. but for the appearance and disappearance of the mysterious old man the flying buddies would not have felt the need of such caution and he could have been confident that it was safe to penetrate a little way into this paradise of tropical growths and perhaps find something they could take back to texas. it was disappointing, but at the same time he had to admit that it was doubtless better that they had discovered him immediately; better than thinking they were secure then running into a hostile tribe without warning. since they had come to south america the buddies had encountered so many dangers in wild, out of the way sections that it had developed their bumps of caution to a high degree. to be sure the authorities had quietly ascertained that arthur gordon was still laid up with a broken leg at the home of the doctor who had taken him in charge after the accident in the snowy fastness of the andes, and ynilea, the laboratory man at the don's had said that the big boss, frightened at the repeated disasters which had befallen many of his men and undertakings, had taken himself out of the country, but the sky buddies were convinced that this chap, whoever he was, had made up his mind to fathom the secrets and secure possession of the vast wealth. while the loss of a few lives might make him get away, to save his own skin, he would probably recuperate his weakness, reorganize his band and start in again at the first opportunity. "the big boss, i reckon would get back to the united states, or to his own hangout, wherever it is, cure himself of his scare, then begin all over again. getting possession of unlimited wealth, he'll figure, isn't to be passed up, and this time he'll cook up some schemes that may work better than the others." bob grinned to himself at the idea, then through his brain flashed the memory of the wonderful laboratories with their numberless workers and scientific advantages. "then again, maybe they won't. i'm betting my dimes on the don." with that comforting assurance, caldwell turned his attention to his job, moving slowly and occasionally glancing across to where his step-brother waited patiently beside the plane. he thought that jim was mighty decent to hang around doing guard duty when he would probably have liked to do some studying himself, and resolved to cut his observations as short as possible. with that in mind he snipped leaves, tiny branches, bits of root, and made rough notes to which he could refer later when there was more time. nearly two hours had been consumed and the younger boy had made half the circuit when he reached a section where there were almost no large trees, although those which grew on both sides were so heavy with branches and foliage that the arch above was as thick as a roof. in the space there seemed to be more fallen trees and rocks than elsewhere. besides, there was a good deal of young growths, slender saplings and brush, also rather a heavy hanging, like a great curtain of vines suspended from the limbs above. the appearance of this semi-clearing made bob suddenly remember the way they had once gone to the laboratory with ynilea. that day, the party had started from cuzco by automobile, left the main thoroughfare, traversed an unmarked route over rocks and foot hills, finally leaving the machine and making their way through a well-concealed natural hallway until at last they came out on a ledge from which they were taken in a strange airplane the rest of the journey. "great christoper's ghost, wonder if this is another of those hidden ways," he exclaimed excitedly, and forgetting for the moment the need to be cautious, he stepped on to a broken stump in among the protecting curtain. but, before he could advance another inch, his quick ear caught a sharp whistling sound which he thought must have come from jim's lips, but before he could turn about, something dark cut in under his arm, hit the nearest sapling and drove like the blade of a stiletto clean through its heart. the young tree quivered from the impact and in an instant tiny beads of sap oozed from the wound. "whew--" bob waited a moment, too startled to think, then he managed to turn about, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. in the first place, it seemed to be snowing for the air was filled with fluttering white things which seemed to be struggling to go on, and although they looked like butterflies, the boy was sure he must be mistaken for he had never seen nor heard of anything like it. through the queer storm he could see jim crouched near the helicopter, the looped lariat hanging from one hand and his mouth open as if he had been about to yell a warning which had frozen on his lips. quickly caldwell's eyes swept to where jim's were staring and instantly he understood from whence the murderous dart had been driven. he saw the three indians, two of them facing him while the third had his gaze fixed on austin. one of the men held a second dart in his hand and was slowly raising it above his head prepared to send it with deadlier aim than the first. then, as if some supernatural power had intervened, the fluttering white things dropped thickly into the space, completely filling it with their bedraggled bodies and helpless beating wings. as bob stood a bit back in the protection of the swinging vines it was like observing the strange spectacle through a window. none of the insects landed within a couple of feet of him, but beyond the air was like a swirling blanket which effectively cut him off from sight of the indians plainly determined to kill him. anxiously the boy wondered about jim, for he could no longer see anything but the butterflies, and through his mind raced half a dozen plans. bob thought of running out to his step-brother, but hesitated about doing that lest austin endeavor to reach him among the vines. thinking it over, in a moment the lad decided that his buddy's best bet was to remain near the machine. probably, safely hidden from the view of the indians he could climb into the cock-pit and prepare to take immediate flight, then bob wondered if the mass of insects would interfere with a take off. with thousands of them tumbling about the plane their tiny bodies might clog the engine, propeller, and lifting wings, besides making it practically impossible for the pilot to tell in which direction to start. recalling the position of the plane when they landed, bob realized that if the butterflies had done no damage the helicopter could mount without difficulty in the limited space, keep climbing until it was above the danger zone and they would be safe. with this fact in mind, he determined to get to the machine without further loss of time. it would take only a few minutes to be a safe distance from the indians who could do nothing more until the air cleared. then he recalled that the natives were doubtless familiar with the locality, they were the best woodsmen in the world, and the three might, even now, be making their way to him. the idea wasn't a cheerful one, and bob turned his eyes in the direction he thought he had left his buddy, then stepped forth. he had hardly reached the edge of the waving vines when he heard the unmistakable, although muffled roar of an engine and guessed that austin was all set to go, but he was surprised that the sound seemed to come from further south than he had calculated. this fact made him pause to make sure, then, at his left he heard a noise of someone running. it might be one of the indians so he drew back quickly. "buddy, i say, old timer, where are you?" it was jim, not one of the natives, and caldwell sighed with relief. "here," he answered. "good." jim leaped beside him grinning broadly. "wow." "i wasted a lot of time running around the edge but i was afraid of missing you," austin panted. "i heard the engine going--" "no you didn't, not ours," jim answered. "but come along and we'll get it going." "must be another plane around here." "reckon there is and it may be as well if they do not see us," the older boy responded. "great guns, these butterflies are life savers all right." "then some. it's like a nightmare." "put your hand over your mouth so you don't swallow a carload." bob followed directions, and the buddies bent forward prepared to start, but by that time the approaching plane was making a thunderous noise for it was above the clearing, then its motor was silenced. "they are coming down, jim. think we'd better stay here?" bob suggested. "we can hide out further in the forest." "reckon our best bet is to get to the machine," jim answered, but then the plane came down so close to them that they could see its huge bulk only a few feet away. to get by it without being seen would mean some maneuvering and good luck aplenty. the boys scowled, but austin motioned to proceed, so they stepped forth, bending low and praying that the newcomers would not look about them immediately. "these blasted bugs," one of them swore roundly. "they gummed the works," added another. there were half a dozen passengers in the plane who climbed out of the cockpit on the further side, then one of them called: "we're right where we want to be." "good work," came a more cheerful response. "good pilot you mean," spoke up one. "pilot nothing, up in that buggy blanket you didn't know your prop from your tail; whether you were going or coming, upside down or right. rotten piece of piloting gunning into a flock like that." "i did not go gunning into them. the things came along so thick i couldn't get out of them. they got all over the plane and plastered everything, look at it, even my goggles are covered with them. i got you down without a smashup, didn't i? you can thank me that you're not hash--" "well, i'm not thanking you," the other retorted, then added with an oath, "and if you had busted the plane, i'd a pumped you full of lead, see. you can thank me that you aren't a sieve this minute." during this disquieting dialogue the boys had made little progress, then suddenly a voice shouted. "i say, who else are you expecting?" "nobody, you know very well." "there's a plane here--" "a plane?" "yeh. one of those whirligig ones." at that announcement the boys stopped in their tracks. "let's go back," bob whispered, tugging at jim's coat. "this is a hard crowd," jim admitted. they started to retrace their steps but by the time they reached the fallen logs, the air was almost clear, the live insects had struggled on, while only a few who could go no further, fluttered to the ground, which was white with their fallen mates. instinctively bob's eyes sought the spot from which the dart had been thrown at him, but it was empty; there wasn't a native in sight, young or old. "they are gone," he gasped in astonishment. "look who's here!" the flying buddies had been discovered by one of the gang, and a tall ugly looking customer who carried a gun in his hand, turned quickly. "our welcome guests." "what are you doing here?" the tall fellow snarled. "dropped down very much as you did, i reckon," answered jim. "bugs drive you out of the sky?" this was probably the pilot who had just been driven out himself. "like blazes. that motor hasn't been running lately. if the bugs forced you down, what you doing over here? come on, speak out, and reach for the sky, while the reaching is good," came the sharp command. "aw, be yourself," bob retorted angrily. "i'm not reaching to anything for a goof like you--" "aint you--" the gun pointed threateningly, then one of the men interposed sharply. "put it down, mills." it was the smallest man in the crowd who gave the order and he strode forward. "what you fellows doing here?" "came up to study the vegetation," bob replied firmly. "yeh. well now, that's nice. where do you hail from?" jim's foot sought his step-brother's, but caldwell did not feel the pressure. "texas," he answered, and immediately he wished he hadn't been quite so specific. "couple of flying cowboys. well, you'll never know how glad we are to find you here," the man sneered. "oh, don't mention it," caldwell answered with a cheerful grin, but both of the boys were wondering what new mischief was afoot. "i won't mention it outside of our little circle of friends here," the fellow promised. "nobody'll ever be able to say we run across you in these parts. it'll be our little secret." he turned to his companions. "remember that, men, this happy meeting aint to be whispered to any naughty inquirer." "sure. now, give us the dope." "it's the--as i said before, the kids we need in our business, see! be sure you see, and hear." "gee, aint we got luck!" "the don's own little pets." "waitin' fer us. aint that thoughtful now." "hope we didn't detain--" "shut up," snapped the little man, then turned to bob. "what you doing here?" "i just told you, studying the vegetation." "yeh, well that stuff don't go with us. these here honduras is full of vegetables, see, you don't have to come way up here." "we were flying and saw this clearing so we came down. whether the 'stuff' goes with you or not, it's the truth. my brother is interested in things that grow out of the ground and we looked for a place where--" austin started to explain, but was cut short. "you mean you was lookin' fer this place." "no we were not. have a look at my specimen book if you want to see for yourself what we are doing." bob proffered the book which was bulky with the things he had gathered and the small man glanced at it indifferently. "that's a stall. now, you got something in your possession we want; that tube of reports. fork 'em over pronto." "we haven't a tube of any kind," jim answered. "no? search 'em boys." this was done roughly and thoroughly but not a tube did they find and they scowled when they finally had to admit defeat. "go through the plane," the tall man proposed. at this the pilot and two others raced to the machine, and in a moment it was being subjected to an overhauling that promised to leave it a wreck. "can't find the thing," the pilot shouted. "no?" the little man drew his gun. "now, you know what we mean. where is that tube?" he pressed the weapon to jim's belt and his rat-like eyes blazed with anger. "where is it?" "we did have a tube," bob answered. "i know you did and you still have." "you are just as much mistaken as if you'd burned your shirt. we had a report tube we were taking home to jim's father, but you're all wet--too late--" "what do you mean?" "it has already been stolen," bob told him. "stolen! who the--" the men were crowding around now and every face was ugly. "by a friend of yours, i reckon," jim drawled. "friend, hey--" the man whirled on the members of his gang. "turn that gat, you fool--" "who took it?" the little man thundered. "gordon, fellow named arthur gordon," answered bob. "gordon, who the blazes is gordon?" demanded one of the gang. "i know him," the tall man answered. "so do i, blast his hide. when did he steal it?" "day before yesterday. we were coming north; he passed over us in a big plane, dropped on the wings and drove us off the course. we landed up in the snow, had a fall, and he robbed us--" "yeh. say, tell that to the marines. gordon wasn't risking his neck by dropping on you out of another plane," the tall man objected. "then let you get away. you got to make up a better story than that, bo, see!" "i do not need to. gordon hurt himself and is laid up with a broken leg--" "if he snitched the tube, then you got it back--" "we didn't get a chance," bob declared. "say, we'll fix 'em so they tell better stories. tie 'em up boy with them lariats and do a good job. they got out of some tight holes, but the fellow that lets 'em get away this time gets plugged, see." chapter iii. the horrible cavern there was no use resisting the gang for the six promptly jumped to the task of securing the flying buddies with their own lariats, and every man of them saw to it that there was no possible chance of them getting out of the bonds. "now, let's take these nice rings--" "let those rings alone." it was the tall man and he spoke so sharply that the would-be thief paused. "say, how do you get that way?" "i'm telling you, let them alone, don't touch 'em." "aw, what's eatin' you--" "listen, if any man jack of you touches those rings, i'm through, see, i quit right now--" "yeh, well, we aint grievin' none." "what you got on your mind? what's the matter with the rings?" "you weren't with the big boss as long as i was, see, and maybe you never heard his orders to steer clear of green rings, 'specially emerald ones. lord amighty, his brother shot a guy one night fer taking them two rings." "shot him!" through the flying buddies' minds flashed the recollection of the night when the de castro plane had been driven through a raging storm only to be brought down by members of the big boss' gang, including young gordon. that was the time when the four were bound on a ledge and a fellow who wore a tight green costume and close fitting mask, had appeared, called the men to task for what they had done, and later been frightened away from the spot by the ingenious ynilea. "yes. he said his brother's orders were not to touch the rings, and don't i know once in chicago a guy brought one in, said he'd picked it up in a hock shop, and the big boss kicked it through the window into the lake, that's what he done." "yeh. well, what do you reckon's the matter with them rings?" "sounds like a lot of stewed tripe to me," declared the chap who was determined to possess himself of the jewels. "maybe it does," retorted mills, "but i'm tellin' you to leave 'em be. i asked one of the lieuts en' he told me that a long time ago, when there wasn't no white folks in the u. s. er down in these parts either, there were rich indians." "go on, indians aint rich." "shut up, some of 'em were and are. well, the whites came along, and saw them all dressed up in gold feathers, the women wearing ropes of diamonds and pearls big as eggs. it made 'em sore so much wealth goin' ter waste, so they shot a mess of 'em and took the stuff. only a few was left and they were good and sore, so they dug hiding places, deep ones in these here mountains, and they took a lot of the best green stones they could find and made 'em into rings--nice ones that a fella would like to want fer himself en maybe fer his girl. then, when the rings was all ready they took them to their temple on top of one of the peaks, and they prayed fer weeks and weeks, then they cussed them rings up one side and down the other. cussed everybody who got a look at one, cussed all his family, and put some extra cussin' on the white guy who carried one, even fer a minute. then they prayed some more to make it stronger, and they cooked up a lot of meat on the temple and the smoke all went straight into the sky, meanin' that the cussin' had took, see! then they passed them rings around here and there so they'd bob up fer a long time and raise sam hill with any white man that got hold of one," he said impressively. "cussed 'em, eh." the chap straightened, and despite their predicament, the flying buddies had difficulty to keep from roaring with laughter at the strange recital. "aw, i say, these fellows has been wearin' 'em!" "sure, en aint they outta luck?" that was evident to the gangster, who resolutely turned his face from temptation and such glaring misfortune. "say, you guys know the way outta here 'cept by plane?" mills demanded suddenly. "no we do not," jim replied emphatically. he recognized the questioner as one of the men who had been on the ledge the night they were captured with the de castros. "quit wastin' time on them. come on in this place en we'll see where it's leading," proposed the pilot. "we aint none of us hankerin' to hang around here." "no we aint," responded lang. "you take that whirlgig plane en fly her where she won't be spotted--" "i aint flying no plane that can be spotted side every other one between here en medicine hat. en what's more, i aint leavin' my machine while i go off some place else, see. how'd i get back, you goop--" "that'll do--" "sure it will, but when i leave, it's in my own cock-pit, see." "yeh, en when he goes, i'm goin' long," spoke up a red-headed fellow stepping beside the pilot, his fist dug menacingly in his pocket. "oh, keep your shirts on," snapped the leader. "i fergot you couldn't get back. can you cover the machine up so if any one flies over she wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb?" "sure," the pilot agreed readily, then he and his pal strode off to the helicopter. "get the boys to chop us some vines," he called. paying no further attention to their captives, the men set to work with a will and soon the two planes were so effectively covered with foliage that only a very close observer in the air would have suspected for a moment that they were not clumps of underbrush which had sprung out of the rocky crevices. cautiously mills and his red-headed pal examined the work and finally pronounced it finished. "and we can get it off quick if we're needin' to leave in a hurry," mills announced with satisfaction. "that's good," lang nodded. "what you going to do with those bozos," the red head demanded. "take 'em along," came the short answer. "untie their feet so they can walk." two men set to the job and in a few minutes the flying buddies were loose enough to stand but their arms were securely fastened and each rope had a length left dangling so that their captors could keep a firm grip on them. "now, step lively--" came the order. "you got to give us a minute so the blood will circulate in our legs," bob protested. "they are like pin cushions." "kick 'em around and they'll be good enough," lang answered. "move on, we're going." with a helpless glance at each other the boys kicked and bent their knees to relieve the discomfort, and in a moment they were being marched behind the red headed fellow into the opening where bob had stood when the butterfly "storm" started such a series of misfortunes. caldwell had been in the place before and he knew that the soil was softer than out in the open, so now, on a pretense of limbering his stiffened limbs, he took very short steps, bringing each foot down hard so that his shoes left a heavy imprint. he was thankful that he had not worn soft soled shoes that morning and that his heels left a larger mark than those made by the feet of members of the gang. jim observed this activity on the part of his step-brother, and added to the clue in the trail by kicking bits of brush and sand with his toes. if by any possible bit of luck pilots from the british town found where the pair had been spending the morning almost anyone could be trusted to discover in which direction they had been taken. he managed to glance over his shoulders to see if the men coming behind him had thought of the possibility, but they were stepping quickly, for red-head was leading at a lively pace. "go on, you don't need to stop to kick all day. your legs are good enough," lang snapped suddenly. "yeh, you're holdin' up traffic." "they feel better now," jim grinned cheerfully, but both boys continued to make a track whenever possible. the way they were following was undoubtedly some path used by either natives or woodsmen traversing the dense forest, and the further they went into it, the more convinced the boys were that they were proceeding along a secret trail built by the ingenious natives. overhead the leaves and vines grew in a thick mass and soon the route began to grow darker and darker, but red-head kept going, feeling his way with his feet until they were making very little progress. "come on, get the lights out," mills growled. "sure, nobody can see a light in here now," red added. he did not produce a flash himself, but two of the men in the rear did, sending the rays on the floor of the trail. on they went at a quicker pace. at times the forest cave lead them down steep declivities where it was evident to the flying buddies that the enclosure was made by hand, not nature, although she had helped. another time they were walking forward on a woven floor and through the loosely secured vines they caught glimpses of sparkling water which pounded against the rocks that confined it and sent a spray so high that the place was spongy and wet. later they were close to the surface of the stream and the boys guessed its bed was an underground passage. at this point the route turned sharply to the left and presently the flooring ended; they began to ascend a gradual incline which they judged was a circuitous path through some rugged section of the country. it seemed to jim that they must have been going for hours. his feet were beginning to tire and his calves felt as if every muscle was strained. he wondered about the indians they had seen before the bandits came down in their plane and marveled more and more that nothing was done to impede progress. by that time they began to climb, and now the foliage was more dense, the air grew hot and stifling, as if the enclosure had not seen the light of day in many generations. thinking it over the boy concluded that this route was rarely used and it certainly was not so well constructed as the hidden trail from cuzco which he had traversed months before. in the first place, that was both light and the foul air driven out, then he remembered that it was cared for by the men in the great amy ran laboratories from which it was constantly purified. austin tried hard to keep his mind clear and reasoned that perhaps lang had in some way discovered the bare spot in the vast andean forest, and may have investigated it, or he may have learned of it while working for the big boss. then, overcome with greed, he had organized this handful of men to explore with him, calculating that the haul they would make would give each greater wealth if they were not forced to divide what they found with the whole organization. it struck the boy as odd that so many of the gang members had started out on their own, and each must have been thoroughly convinced that untold wealth lay at the end of this "rainbow" and they were eager to risk their lives in pushing their own discoveries to the limit. it was disquieting to realize that such a number of small groups were viciously determined to fathom the don's secrets and reap the benefits of the riches which rumor carried like wild fire among the outlaws. following the wiry red, caldwell marveled at the strength of the little man who leaped briskly ahead as energetically as when they first entered the opening. through his mind ran a series of plans for their escape but with arms bound, ropes held by grimly determined gangsters who doubtless had guns ready to fire at the first false move, the situation appeared utterly hopeless. he, too, was beginning to feel fatigue, his feet seemed weighted with lead, and his head and lungs ached from the foul air. occasionally he glanced back at jim, who kept as close as possible, but they spoke no word as they went on and on. at last the journey was telling on all of the men, for their panting breaths were coming in painful sobs. even red faltered; twice he slipped and almost fell flat, but he managed to recover himself. "better let someone else take the lead," lang proposed. "better stay where you are," red snapped angrily. nothing more was said, then the boys began to wonder if any of the gang would drop out from exhaustion, but as far as they could tell, none had. then one of the lights grew dim, and red cursed. "change your battery." this was done, and soon they were going on swiftly, but there was a steep climb ahead. with difficulty it was finally negotiated, but it took nearly half an hour. at last they were all on the top. the place looked as if it crossed, or followed a high ledge, the wall which was moss grown formed one side, while the other was slanting, like a shed roof. again they passed over a stream, but it was a mighty dangerous undertaking, for great holes yawned beneath them, and red managed to make it by hanging on to the vines above him. "we can't catch hold," jim protested. "go on." mills gave them a boost, and after a struggle they were on the other side. then the way descended again, and suddenly the air seemed to clear. "whew, this is better," mills gasped, with relief, and they all paused a moment to inhale deeply. "there's daylight," red shouted a few minutes later, and with a bellow of joy, he sprang forward. his shout changed quickly to the snarl of terror, and a shriek of abject fear. the buddies saw his feet slip from under him on the log he was crossing. his arms shot up in a frantic effort to catch hold of something, then his body twisted and dropped from sight, leaving a great hole in the rotten tree. an agonized wail split the air, then all was silent. "what's the matter," gasped lang fearfully. "quit shovin', the thing's rotten as hell," mills snarled and he threw his weight against the men who were pressing forward. "get more light." two more flashes were produced, illuminating the spot. it appeared as if half of the great log which was suspended from great boulders, had given way. the lights revealed a deep, narrow cavern, they could hear water gurgling as if it formed a passage for a small spring or stream, and after fumbling with the light, mills finally was able to locate the huddled body of the red-headed man. silently, and shivering, the group stood for several minutes. "i'm going back," mills announced positively. "yes, come on." as if they were one man they turned about. "don't be quitters," lang urged. "this air is better than back there and we must be almost out." "yeh, well, i'm going back." the ropes which bound the buddies were not forgotten, and in a minute they were retracing their steps, this time with more lights than when they came forward. although lang argued that they were giving up when they had almost won, no one paid the slightest attention to him. they seemed to forget their earlier discomfort and went swiftly until they reached the last stream. again they stopped suddenly. the woven bridge, or flooring had broken at the edge and was dangling forty feet away. mute with horror, the men stared paralyzed at the calamity. "there's no way to get over," a gangster sobbed. "maybe we can chop our way through the roof," one suggested. he caught the side of the natural wall and hauled himself up, but when his ax struck the roof it rang against solid stone. besides the stuff upon which the fellow was braced, gave way, and he slid back with a howl of fear. "that log wasn't all rotten," lang declared. "come on back and at least we can cut some of the vines, make it stronger and get out that way." "yeh, en get pitched down with red--" "if you can think of anything better, suppose you get busy," lang snapped at him. "all right, i'm comin." "let them kids do the leadin' this time," mills proposed, and without further ado the flying buddies were turned about and forced to head the march back. "give us a chance with our arms," jim urged. "nothing doing, you go ahead. if you slip we'll haul you back." they had to be content with this uncertain promise and in a moment the hard barrel of a gun was poked in jim's ribs. slowly they went ahead, and after what seemed like an eternity, they came again to the rotten log. lang himself wriggled forward, tested it with the back of his ax, then tearing loose a number of long vines, he straddled the dangerous path, hauled himself forward with the vines, and after ten breathless minutes, he dropped off at the other side and the men he had left behind, sighed with relief. "it's solid over here," he called. then mills made the journey, but he did not need to loosen the vines, so it took him less time, and presently he was standing beside the leader. the flying buddies saw the two confer, and finally nod agreement. "leave them kids till next to the last," mills ordered. quickly the third man made his way over, then the fourth, while the fifth stood with his gun out ready to shoot if either of the boys moved. "we can't make it with our arms tied," jim protested. "i don't care if you make it or not. get on there--" "listen, if we don't make it, you don't, see," bob spoke quietly. "no?" "no. it's this way, if the log doesn't hold us or we have to kick it much to keep on, it's going to break good and plenty, and when it breaks, it leaves you here, just like that, caught between the two traps," he explained, and the fellow's face went white as a sheet. chapter iv. ghosts "hey, what are you waiting for?" lang called sharply. "these kids want their arms loose," the guardian answered. "tell 'em to slide with their heels--" "i won't. i gotta get over, haven't i!" the fellow's teeth chattered and the weapon he held wavered in his trembling hand. "send one along. i'll meet him," mills decided. "all right, get on, if you kick that thing i'm goin' ter pump you full of lead, and your buddy too, see." the man poked his white face into jim's. "surely, it's quite clear." jim stepped forward, straddled the log, inched himself along with the greatest care, but his heart was in his throat as bits were knocked off. he had gone almost half the distance when he saw mills throw himself full length from the other side, and stretch out his hands. "bend forward." jim did and mills clutched his collar firmly, then wriggled back. half an hour later bob was over safely, but when he stood up a great hunk of the log fell away. "listen," he cried, "that will never hold another man, and that chap over there is scared stiff. loosen my arms, or jim's, then we can get him with the lariat and if he starts to fall, haul him up. he'll never make it--he's heavier than we are." "wait up, over there," lang shouted. "what for?" he snarled suspiciously. "i aint hanging round here." "wait up till we get a rope--" just then a strange wailing sound came from behind the man and he glanced fearfully over his shoulder. mills had started to remove bob's rope, but his fingers were clumsy and he fumbled nervously. "hold that light closer," he growled to the chap who had the flash. the rays were directed on the knot while the rest stood impatiently watching, and after a moment one of the men laughed; it sounded like a cackle. "those kids--" "what you waiting for?" called the man across the gully. "keep your shirt on, we're going to throw the rope--" "woo-oo-o-oh," came the weird sound again, only louder. it seemed to be getting closer quickly, rose from a deep moan to a shrill wail that filled the narrow passage, and the man who was holding the flash let it fall from his cold fingers. "i'll hold it--" "i'm coming--" roared the one on the other side. he glanced over his shoulder a second time, then the sound came nearer, louder, and more terrible. with a shriek he flung himself astride the log, his body flat, his arms and legs kicking furiously as he shoved frantically forward, disregarding the danger of the undertaking. "be careful," yelled jim as he watched the fellow, whose limbs were striking out like a floundering swimmer, sending a shower of rotten timber to the depths below. "take it easy, you won't make any headway." "look out--" mills stopped his futile efforts to get the rope, lang turned the rays of the light on the log, while one of the other men stood astride the end trying to swing a long vine to the hands of their comrade. he bent forward and threw the long twining end, but the chap was not looking at him, the bit of tendril brushed his cheek; and with a howl of panic he twisted about desperately. "catch it," lang shouted. "get a hold," mills added. but the man was too terrified to understand. with a wild lunge he threw himself on the weakest part of the log, clawed with both hands, sending a shower of chips into the abyss and at the same time, the awful unearthly cry came again. another panic-stricken lunge, the log creaked dismally, parted in the middle, and dropped its burden to the depths. the fellow who was astride the end was nearly taken with it, but mills caught and hauled him to safety. "if he'd waited for the rope he could have been saved," bob said softly, and there was genuine regret in his tone. it was a tragic situation, standing tied helplessly while a fellow human fell to his death. "something's back there--" "i believe that is only wind," jim declared. "wind, how do you make that out?" "since the air purified, either there is a high wind outside or something happened to let in a good breeze. it played on those tight streamers and vines like a harp--" "queer harp," mills muttered with a shiver. "just the same, that's all it is, i'm sure. if you have been around the andes much, you've heard something like it before--" "well, i haven't been, and i'm getting out now fast as i can, see?" "come on," lang ordered, and putting jim in front to lead the way, they started forward again, but now there were only four members of the gang with the buddies. the way was wide enough so that they could go side by side, and although their shoulders touched as they proceeded, they did not exchange a word, for mills and lang were right behind them. after all, it did not make much difference, but there was really nothing to say. the queer noise was repeated at intervals, but although it was terrifying enough, the men grew less fearful of it and seemed to accept austin's explanation as to its origin. the boy had thought it was the wind when he first heard it, but had kept silent partly because his opinion was not asked and partly because he felt that the bandits deserved a good scare. he reasoned that if they were frightened they might be less vicious in their dealings with their captives, but when he saw the havoc it was creating he endeavored to reassure them. however, if any of them appreciated his assistance no sign was made of the fact, and the pair were urged to proceed ahead. "if there is danger they figure we'll get it first," bob whispered, and jim nodded. "these kids are terribly slow," snapped a man in the rear. "we want to get out of this place." "sure, lang, hurry 'em up," said the other nervously. "this hole is spooky. why in blazes didn't you find out what was in it?" "shut up, i'm managing this," lang snapped back. "if them kids has a pull with the indians they'll get us through," mills called, and then the buddies understood that the leaders expected to share any protection that the presence of the "don's little pets" as he called them, might be to the gang. this was a phase neither of the boys had thought of, and now they exchanged swift glances. "we're going along nice now; when red was leading it was tough," added lang, then went on to bob, who had stared back. "your help is appreciated a lot you can see, but any funny business and you'll wish you had dropped over off the log with red." "you said we'd be out of here in a few minutes. it's getting worse instead of better," the rear man grumbled. "yeh, it's thick and hot. my light won't last forever. got any more batteries?" "yes." they paused to fix the flash, and lang swore at them roundly. "i told you to have new lights, and to pack spare fillers. what did you mean by coming half ready--" "aw shut up, my light was brand new, but red carried the extras," the other admitted reluctantly. at that lang and mills ripped out a string of oaths. "haul in," one snapped finally. "didn't you tell us to divide the stuff--well, red took the batteries--that's that--" "and we'll likely have to crawl out of this in the dark, land somewhere in the forest, and who knows how we'll get back to the machines?" mills thundered. "what are you carrying?" "grub," came the answer. "well, let's stop and eat. we can make better time when we are not so empty," lang proposed. "pass it along." he and lang sat down as best they could in the narrow quarters with only the smallest light to pierce the gloom which surrounded them. the buddies also let their feet slide from under them and were grateful for the opportunity to rest. the two men who brought up the rear showed no such disposition, but stepped forward over the other's legs. "here," the last one muttered, dropping what looked like a paper bag into lang's lap, then went on quickly. the leader started to open the container, then glanced up with a scowl. "where's the rest of the stuff?" he demanded. "think we been traveling for hours with nothing in our stomachs?" came the answer. "what's left?" mills snapped, grabbing the bag. "aw there's a couple of sandwiches en a hard boiled egg--" mills sprang to his feet but the pair jumped out of his way quickly. "come on, mills, eat what there is," lang called, so the tall man returned, and the two soon devoured the frugal repast. not a bite was offered to the buddies whose food had been left in the plane on the hill, and whose stomachs were clamoring furiously. presently the meal was finished to the last crumb, then the leaders rose to their feet. they did haul their companions up so they could stand, then without a word, gave them a shove forward. slowly and painfully the four proceeded. the flying buddies' feet hurt with every step, and their tired bodies wavered from side to side as they went on and on. by that time they were going through what appeared to be a grassy section of the forest. the passage wound among huge trees, over piles of fallen timber, then, suddenly from ahead, they heard a wild shriek of terror, followed by a series of shrill earsplitting screams. "good heavens, what they got into?" lang panted. "get on," mills urged. he slipped his hand under bob's arm and helped him forward, while jim and lang stumbled along as quickly as possible. presently they came to a section where piles of rotten vegetation lined both sides of the route, and by the dim light lang cast ahead, they made out one body lying still, while the other battled furiously with some hissing object that lashed and struck with thunderous blows. "snakes," bob whispered. they saw a second man borne down to the ground and after a convulsive struggle for a moment, he too lay still. the four stopped horrified in their tracks. for minutes they stood staring too paralyzed to go forward or back, then bob saw the great snakes slide off to one side and disappear under the debris. "come on, walk carefully and be quick," he panted, and started to run, forcing his aching feet to carry him on. passing the spot they could see that their two companions had probably stumbled over the reptiles, angered them to instant attack, and were utterly defenseless against the poisonous brutes. hardly daring to breathe lest the snakes come out again, the four tiptoed forward, but in each hand of the leaders were small, deadly guns ready to destroy the snakes if they showed their heads. beads of perspiration stood out on the four faces, and for the first time since they started, lang neglected to keep an eye on the captives. half an hour later the place was well behind them and they were traversing a sandy way which took them to a stream. "i've got to have a drink," jim declared, and without further ado, he dropped flat and buried his face in the cool depths. caldwell followed his example, and soon mills and lang were also stretched full length and drinking deeply. "maybe it's poison but i don't care," mills muttered. "better not take too much at a time," jim warned. "drink a little, then rest and drink some more." the suggestion was carried out. several times they did it, then, with a sigh, mills rolled over and closed his eyes. "hey, mills, what's the matter with you?" lang shook him roughly by the shoulder. "dog tired," he answered. "i'm going to sleep." "sure that water didn't knock you out?" lang persisted fearfully. "it's grand water. i'm going to sleep beside it, have some more when i wake up, then go on," he said heavily. "so'm i," lang declared, but he took the precaution to tie the ends of the ropes which bound the arms of the flying buddies to separate trees so that they could not help each other to get away, then he, too, closed his eyes. jim watched him several minutes, the smallest flash light in one hand, a gun in the other. the boy thought that he could keep awake and that he and his buddy could make some plan, but his own lids grew heavy and presently all of them were sound asleep, in spite of the terrors which surrounded them. it seemed to austin as if he had barely closed his eyes when he felt something brush gently against his cheek and instantly he was wide awake. the first thing he noticed was the dim light sending its feeble ray into the darkness, cutting a faint glow which made the rest of the place blacker. the boy tried to brush his face on his shoulder, which ached woefully but as far as he could see or feel there was nothing near him. mills snored melodiously, while the deep breathing of the other two could be heard plainly, but no other sound broke the death-like stillness of the ancient passage. "reckon i'm so tired and sore i'm imagining things," he told himself, then glanced across to where caldwell was huddled like himself close to a tree. the boy closed his eyes again, but a moment later they were wide open, so he shifted his position quietly and began to try to make a plan which would help them get away. carefully he moved his face about the ground hoping to discover a sharp stone upon which he might rub the rope until it was cut in two, but he found nothing, then he began to hitch and wriggle his body. it was a mighty painful process for his arms were swollen and he dared not make a sound. at last, after a grim struggle, he had the satisfaction of feeling the lariat shove upward toward his shoulders. if he could get it as high as his neck he would be free. with a heart pounding hopefully he persisted. twice he had to stop precious minutes for lang stirred in his sleep and the lad feared he would wake and discover what he was doing. nearly an hour passed and at last the rope was slipped above his shoulders; a moment more and he was out of it. all this while his mind was working like a trip hammer planning what to do when he got loose. the first thing would be to take possession of lang's gun. with that in his pocket he might force the men to release bob in case he wasn't able to do it himself. his step-brother was the other side of mills and whether that journey could be made safely was another matter. with the weapon in his pocket at last, jim devoted the next few minutes to rubbing his sore arms, for he knew that in their present condition he could never hold the gun, much less fire it effectively. in due time his arms were relieved, then he wished that he had on soft-soled shoes, but he managed to get to his feet, take possession of the flash-light, and at last, assured that his activities were unobserved, he made his way to bob's side, bending over him carefully. instantly the young fellow looked up in startled surprise, then jim grinned, for bob was industriously chewing his own rope and had managed to get half way through it. a moment more and it was cut and he too was free, while jim took mills' gun, which he gave to the younger boy. "this place is lighter," bob whispered, and jim glanced around. he was greatly puzzled, for as far as he could see there was no explanation to the fact. no one seemed to be coming with a light and certainly no new opening had been made into the passage, but the glow was unmistakable and it filled the place. gently jim rubbed his step-brother's body, and presently, bob stood up, but just then mills stirred uneasily, so the sky buddies sat down again quickly and quietly. they watched through half closed eyes, and although mills tossed restlessly, he finally lay still and again his melodious snore broke the silence. "grand uproar," bob grinned. then he got busy knotting his rope, and looped it on his arm. "we'll do a bit of tying," he announced. "wait," jim whispered, then he motioned his pal to move further from the sleepers. they stopped several feet away. "i have an idea. suppose we lay the ropes so when they sit up we'll have them hog-tied with a loop, and as soon as we're ready we'll wake them and make them get moving." "good idea," bob agreed. "they had something to eat and some sleep, and we didn't. got any of those pellets ynilea gave you--" "you bet, i forgot all about them." jim fished the tiny container of food pellets they had been given at the laboratory, and the pair soon had some in their mouths. "look," bob pointed along the way they had come and to their astonishment they saw a young girl carrying a basket on her head. she came toward them as if unconscious of their presence, her sandaled feet hardly touching the floor of the passage, her body covered with a whole tiger-skin. behind her walked a woman, then several men came forward single file. every one of them carried boxes, some opened and others closed, while a few older men carried bags woven of grass. the band came closer and closer until the girl passed directly in front of the buddies. she never turned her dark eyes but went on, stepping over the sleepers. "natives," jim whispered. both of them completely forgot to lay the lariats, which were looped in their left hands, then suddenly an exclamation made them whirl about. lang was sitting up rubbing his eyes stupidly, while mills too was staring wide awake. chapter v. the way out the bandits sat up, stared with mouths gaping at the band of indians filing silently past them. neither mills nor lang appeared to realize that the captives had managed to free themselves of the ropes, and the flying buddies, the small guns resting ready in their palms, were on the alert, prepared to turn the tables on the men if necessary. in the meantime the entire passage was illuminated with a weird yellow light and the natives' moving bodies cast grotesque shadows before, behind and all about them. huge dark figures out of all proportion, wavered through the narrow cavern as they, completely ignoring the presence of the white men, passed along soundlessly. it was a strange spectacle the lads witnessed, and one they could not explain. there were about forty or fifty men, women and young girls, all carrying precious burdens in ancient receptacles, and occasionally a glittering object fell from the over-flowing containers. one of these dropped between lang's knees and his eyes glowed greedily as they rested on it, but he sat with eyes and mouth open and did not move. for ten or fifteen minutes the strange procession passed slowly along and finally the last man, a tall young indian armed with a long, black-tipped spear, brought up the rear. he paused for an instant beside mills, and stared down at the man who crouched in terror, then he proceeded to join his companions. he was out of sight before lang leaped to his feet. in his hand was the jewel which had fallen, and his face was contorted with viciousness. "mills, it's native--" "think i'm blind," mills muttered, but he got up more slowly; it was not easy to rid himself of the effect of those dark piercing eyes. "they are carrying away tons of stuff; gold and stones. we hit the place all right. come on, we'll see where they hide it and help ourselves--" lang was nearly consumed with excitement. "help ourselves--" mills repeated dully. "sure, look!" he held out the shining trinket. "those natives always do that, i've read about it. years ago--they hid carloads of stuff and nobody could find it, but lately some caches have been located and these fellows are hiding their treasures in a new place. we'll see where it is--" "say, bo, listen, we aint awake, see! this is a dream i'm havin', all by myself, you aint in it at all, but you seem to be." mills brushed his hand over his forehead. "oh, you're crazy," lang insisted. "just asleep. we been thinkin' so much about those hiding places that i'm dreaming all this, but listen, if it was real those fellows would never have trailed right over us like that--never--why, i could see right through them--it's a dream i tell you--" "come along, i'll show you if it's a dream," lang shouted. "they'll get away if we don't hustle." he dashed off after the last indian who had disappeared from sight. mills followed reluctantly at a slower pace, while the flying buddies cautiously brought up the rear. as he went on they could hear him muttering to himself that he was dreaming, that it wasn't real, and lang was a nut. "it does seem queer," bob remarked thoughtfully. "shall i give you a pinch so you'll be sure you are awake?" jim asked soberly. "yes, go ahead," caldwell invited. his step-brother started to comply but he no sooner got a bit of the fleshy part of his arm between his fingers than bob drew away. "i'm convinced. come on, hurry up, it isn't as light as it was!" the pellets the boys had swallowed some hours earlier had refreshed them amazingly so they forgot that they had had little food, rest or water, as they ran as hard as they could go along the passage, which presented no difficulties to progress. they had raced about five minutes before they overtook lang and mills, and some distance ahead they could see the backs of the indians marching forward with dignified tread. nearly a quarter of an hour the white men followed the dark ones through the opening in the dense forest until at last lang, who was leading, paused and raised his hand. mills drew close to his partner, but the flying buddies remained at a respectful distance. they were on higher ground and could see quite easily what was happening. the place beyond where the buddies were standing was like a deep gully whose sides rose steeply, like a wall. thick vines grew about twenty feet from the bottom and these were woven across the top in an impenetrable mass through which neither rain nor sunshine could pass. the boxes and baskets were placed on the ground in a circle and the men stood behind them, each armed with long and short spears. it looked as if the women were moving about preparing a meal, but suddenly there came a fierce braying of dogs, the thunder of galloping hoofs, hundreds of them, and the deafening clatter of steel. a moment later a huge black brute with powerful hungry jaws leaped in from behind the rocks, and almost instantly a horse and rider raced furiously in after him. "great guns, bob, he's in armor," jim whispered. "bronc and all," caldwell added in amazement. it reminded the boys of some historical moving picture in which armored knights and horses suddenly leaped to life and action. for a breathless instant they stood too astonished to speak. after their leader, a great pack of the dogs rushed along with soldiers protected from head to foot by their coats of mail and helmets. queer weapons were fired, blunderbusses and heavy cross-bows, long swords flashed and after ten minutes of the wildest confusion the natives were dead, all except a few women and children who were slung up behind the soldiers, while others gathered the treasure in their arms and galloped away with the rich booty, but as they scrambled up the rocks, a number of them were dislodged and came tumbling down. the stones seemed to mark the wall of some natural dam, for instantly there was a terrific boom, boom, and tons of water roared over, sweeping the burdened horses helplessly before it. snarling and fighting the dogs struggled to swim to safety, but most of them were battered by heavy armor or kicking hoofs, so that they sunk with their laden masters in the swirling water. "get back," lang shrieked in terror, but although the water had reached their side, the main part of it found a lower outlet, and it flowed off among the boulders. however it was deep enough so that there was no evidence of what it concealed, and the four who had witnessed the horrible tragedy stared mutely at one another. "i tell you i'm dreaming," mills repeated. "let's get out of here," cried lang, glancing about him fearfully. "how are we going to do it?" "follow the stream around to the other side," jim suggested. "say, what in--" "you needn't say it," jim snapped, or rather barked. "face about and get going. make it lively--" "you brats--" "save those little pleasantries for later, old man," jim ordered. "it's your turn to lead this party--" "i'll be killed--" "surely," bob cut in. "you'll get what you promised us if you don't do as you are told. the first thing is to relieve yourself of your weapons, all of them. turn your pockets inside out, both of you." "well--" "don't wait." bob pressed forward, the gun pointing straight at mills' belt and in terror the fellow threw up his hands. "i told you to turn your pockets inside out, and take off your gun belt. do it quick or i'll shoot it off. my folks taught me to use a gun when they showed me how to handle a spoon, and right now i've got a lot against you; my fingers are itching to press the spring, besides it would be no end easier for buddy and me to get out of this place alone. we're only taking you along because we like your company--" "we'd better tie them up and leave them here," jim suggested, although he had no such intention. "don't do that--don't do that--" lang's teeth chattered with fright as he pleaded, and he hastily turned his pockets wrong side out, also removed his cartridge belt and a holster which he had strapped under his arm. jim kicked the stuff into the water, while bob attended to mills. "now, take off your shirts then we'll be sure you haven't got anything hidden or try anything queer. i'm going to tie you, but not so that you are as helpless as we were." while jim stood guard, he secured the pair with the one lariat, then he took the end of the rope. "just a little funny business and this will pull up tight, so watch yourself--now goose-step." the two men faced about and started, caldwell holding one end of their rope. he had the gun in his other hand, while jim walked beside him, his weapon pointed at the bare backs. it was difficult making their way along the edge of the stream, but they finally managed it, then saw that the route lead forward in a comparatively smooth trail. two hours they proceeded, winding in and out, twisting and turning as if the designers of the passage had sought to build a labyrinth for some ancient lover's lane. then the way grew suddenly quite rugged and a bit later the boys and their captured captors discovered that they were tramping over a high stone bridge which seemed to be a natural formation of the rocks. all of the time the vines and trees formed the solid arch above their heads, but occasionally sections were considerably lighter than others. "say, where do you think you are going to take us?" mills growled. "out," bob answered shortly. "yeh, when we get out, then what?" "to the nearest jail, where you belong," jim told him. "well, i'm telling you now, i'm not going to no jail," mills cried. "aw shut up," lang ordered. "shut up yourself," mills retorted. "i aint done nothing to go to jail for--" "no, well you've done as much as i have--" "you're a liar." mills fist shot out and he struck his companion a resounding crack on the side of the face. lang's foot went up hard, caught the fellow in the stomach with such force that mills doubled up like a jackknife, screamed with pain, and his feet slipped so that he slid across the rock. "catch him, lang," jim shouted quickly. "he'll take you with him," warned bob. at that the gang leader clutched the rope which held the two but mills was already dangling over the edge. desperately lang threw all his weight on the opposite side. jim and bob sprang to help him, but as they pulled the section of the rope which caldwell had knotted after he had chewed the strands, parted, and the smaller man went tumbling over backward into the rushing stream. the boys dared not stop to help him, but put all their strength into dragging mills to safety. it was minutes before the big man was on the bridge again, and by that time there was no sign of the leader of the gang, although the boys made every effort to locate him. they were panting from the exertion and pale with horror at what had happened. "can you walk now?" jim asked grimly. "yes," mills answered. "we'll be on our way." silently they proceeded and just beyond the next turn they found themselves in the ruins of an ancient court with moss-grown stone seats which faced the east. "looks a bit like one of the temple ruins near cuzco," caldwell remarked just to make conversation. "yes," replied austin, then added with a sigh of relief, "jinks, buddy, the sun is shining through! isn't it great!" "surely is," bob agreed. they looked about and although some of the larger branches of the tall trees interlaced over their heads, the foliage was not so matted and they were sure that either no attempt had been made by the natives to conceal the spot, or any ancient hiding growths had been broken away during the passing years. mills glanced nervously around him and when he saw that they were really in the sunlight, he began to babble incoherently. "think we'd better let him go?" jim suggested. there was pity in his tone and he spoke softly for he thought that this last member of the gang that had taken them prisoners was losing what little reason he ever possessed. "i figure we're out of the passage, but we don't know where we are yet. if we turn him loose he may starve to death before he reaches a settlement or any one runs across him; then, if we let him keep with us until we get out it will be safer to keep him in hand. he can be a nasty bird and after a while some of the effects of what we were through may wear off, then he'll revert to his charming self again and probably try to break our necks," bob answered, and after a moment's consideration, jim nodded that it was the wiser course. "go along," he motioned to mills, whose knees wobbled under him and his fingers fumbled inanely about his mouth. "he's nutty, all right," said bob. they advanced toward the towering ruin, and crossed what had once been a magnificent square with a beautiful fountain playing in the centre. the clear water still trickled up between the stones, some of which were polished until they glistened like fiery opals. the other side of the square was the first tier of a wide terrace, its massive walls seamed in even lines as its ancient builders had laid the rocks with infinite care, one above the other, and side by side. there were a few small fruit trees whose branches were gnarled and twisted; several giant olives which might have been imported from spain hundreds of years ago; tall cactus with thorns sharp as spear points and strong as spikes stuck up like sentinels, while patches of smaller varieties spread over large sections of the sandy soil. the buddies and their half-witted companion made their way slowly around where they could walk safely and presently they discovered a groove. they were not sure if it had once been the bed of a small stream or a path worn through the years by the natives whose abodes had been somewhere in the vicinity, but they followed it because it was easier walking and soon they reached an irregular, winding stairway with a high, stone balustrade on both sides. "let's go up as far as we can," jim proposed. "that's a good idea. from the top we may be able to get our bearings," bob assented. he was usually full of fun despite adventures or danger, but the long hours spent in the passage, the tragic events which had piled themselves one after the other, had left him grave. there wasn't a sign of a grin on his lips, and his usually laughing eyes were mighty thoughtful. "hope we can find a way to the plane soon," said jim as they proceeded upward. "me too," bob replied, then he glanced about. "i say, buddy, the sun is where it was when we started in that passage." "i was thinking of that," jim told him. they stopped and looked at each other. "suppose we were there more than one round of the clock?" "i don't believe so. it's a safe bet we were there twenty-four hours, or nearly. i was depending on the plane clock, so didn't wear a watch." "red cribbed mine when he was searching me," bob said quietly. "eh, why didn't you tell him it was a relation of the green emerald rings?" jim chuckled. "mills was certainly afraid of them." "i thought of that, but i should worry. gosh, red surely--" "here we are on a second terrace," jim interrupted for he wanted bob to forget, as fast as he could, that experience at the rotten log where red had met his fate. "must have been a wonderful structure this," bob answered. he understood why jim had cut in, and was as anxious as the older boy to get the troubles of the last twenty-four hours out of his mind. "seems to me i hear something, a sort of tapping," said jim. they stood still and listened, every nerve tense, but gradually they relaxed for the place was as silent as the bottom of the deepest unopened tomb in the universe. "hear it now?" "guess it was my imagination. come on." they started again, crossed the second terrace, and several times they paused to scan the sky. in fact, they were far more interested in what might come out of the path of the blazing sun than what they would discover on terra-firma, for they both felt confident that their absence had not passed unobserved by their friends at the barracks. "figuring that we tramped twelve or fifteen hours all together, how many miles do you believe we covered?" jim asked when they stopped to rest on the third terrace. "sometimes we went pretty slowly," bob answered. "i know. i was trying to dope it out as we went along. it didn't seem to me as if the passage made many turns, but that's hard to tell because it went up and down, across rivers and probably under sections of the mountains." "sure, but it seems to me we can't be as much as a hundred miles from the top of that little hill, where we started. to be sure, it wasn't very high, but for natives to have a covered way--gosh--i don't know. we did hear that the ancient natives made hidden ways for hundreds of miles; they needed to in order to get away, but it doesn't seem possible that we can have gone a hundred miles--" "anyway, we can't be a hundred air miles from where we started. what i'm trying to figure is the chances of bradshaw and some of the rest locating us soon." "yes, they'll be hunting sure as fate but i'm afraid even if they flew over that place where the planes were left, they would not notice them. those lads did a good job of covering up." "that's right--" "jim, shhh--there's somebody, a white man, sneaking behind those rocks just ahead of us," bob whispered softly. chapter vi. an old enemy appears his flying buddy's announcement that he saw some one stealing about the ancient ruin was made in such a startled tone, that austin, for a moment was deeply mystified. they had been through such a ghastly experience that their minds were not functioning normally, and both of them were instantly on the alert for additional danger. for a minute the three stood still, mills indifferently, but the boys alert and watchful, then suddenly jim began to think more rationally and he drew a deep breath of relief. "it's probably some one looking for us," he declared. "let's go along and catch up with him." but bob caught his sleeve. "put on the curb, old timer, it isn't anyone looking for us," he insisted. "come on, let's lean against the wall as if we are resting and see what we can see. keep your gun where it will do the most good in the shortest time." he stepped leisurely across to the section of wall, and leaned back wearily, while his step-brother also assumed an attitude of fatigue, because he wanted to get more information, not because he was convinced that whoever was about was not a friend. "what did he look like?" "couldn't tell much. he's wearing a grey suit, or a dirty white one, and a dark straw hat. i saw him the first time when we crossed the square. he was up among those trees and i thought it was some kind of wild animal, then i saw him again when we were coming up the stairs from the lower terrace. my first idea was that it was a friend, i was going to shout, but he dodged back out of sight. when i saw him this last time, he was peeking from behind those stones as if he was watching to see which way we are headed. i do not believe he knows i saw him," bob said so softly that jim barely caught the words. "gosh--sure it isn't a native--you know they do hang around these ruins and it may be that he is put here to look out for the temple." "it isn't a native. the ones who are not in the towns are all strong and straight looking and they don't wear white men's clothing," replied bob. they remained as they were carefully considering their next step, and as they stood thinking, their eyes rested on mills who was crouching at the end of the rope very much like a monkey on a string. "he's surely off his bean," jim remarked, and bob nodded his head. "suppose we saunter around, and get as high on this ruin as we can so we can see as far as possible. that's the most important thing we have to do," he said. "yes. instead of taking the side we have been following, let's go to the left. if the snooper is really spying on us we can tell quickly enough. if he isn't, he'll go about his business," jim proposed. "that's good sense. if we find out he's all right, of course we might get some information about getting out of these woods." "yes, and when we get way up we'd bet-[transcriber's note: missing text at this point in several copies of the original book.] "we'll have to do it indian fashion; by rubbing sticks, then we can direct a column that will rise high and show airmen, who are sure to be looking for us, where we are located." "that's our best bet. knocks the spots off roaming about the forest in a circle, besides i expect they are so thick in these parts that even a signal fire would not help us. come along, mills. gee, i feel like a blooming organ grinder. keep eyes ahead and behind." "atta boy. don't give up the ship." the pair started single file with mills going with them either on all fours or with his legs doubled and his hands fumbling about his mouth. his imbecility was uncanny and the boys would have liked nothing better than to be rid of him, but neither of them thought of deserting the helpless man even though his presence added to their danger and the difficulties they must face. leisurely they proceeded across the terrace opposite the direction they had first taken, and although they appeared to pay little attention to the great structure they were traveling, their eyes and ears were alert. they reached the stairway, which was higher and narrower than the lower ones, but as they neared the top, it curved wide and brought them to an enormous circular platform. here they paused and stood taking in the strange, wild scene. behind the boys were two more terraces which appeared larger than those they had ascended, while in front of them stretched the ruins of the once flourishing city which had been built with amazing skill in the shadow of the temple. here and there giant stones remained standing defiantly in spite of centuries of storms, winds and rains; and in spite of destructive hands which had sought to tear them from their foundations. a slight breeze was blowing. just enough to make the cactus creak and crackle; dead grasses rustled softly, slender trees swayed slightly, the leaves of the stronger ones waved like beckoning hands as if they would recall the lost wonders of the past. "i hear that tapping again," jim whispered. they listened for a moment and then caldwell also heard the sound. "it might be a woodpecker," he remarked. "we might believe that if our snooping friend had not shown himself," said jim. "seems to be on the further side. let's try to work around on the further side, but first we best get higher and build that fire. wonder if there is any wood up there." "reckon there must be. this sure is the sort of place that makes one feel creepy; the place and mills together are enough to give a fellow the heaves. seems to me i smell something to eat--" they sniffed the air and as the breeze was coming toward them they made out the fragrance of bacon being toasted. "guess our friend is going to eat--" just then mills tugged on the rope, he raised himself to his full height, his nostrils expanding as he breathed deeply. "he must be empty as a drum. wonder if it would be safe to feed him one of those pellets--i--" but the sentence was not finished. with a wild leap, mills broke away, tore furiously up the nearest stairway and disappeared at an astonishing rate of speed over the higher terrace. "we must go after him, but keep your gun handy." the sky buddies ran as fast as their legs could carry them, but they both knew that mills was setting a much swifter pace. when they reached the next terrace they caught a glimpse of the top of his head as he descended in unhuman bounds, and without a word, the pals ran after him. across the terrace they found, instead of stairs, that the madman had gone by way of a rugged trail, partly overgrown with brush. as they leaped after him, in sections they had to hang on to the tough shrubs, but as far as they could see, mills rushed on without assistance and completely ignoring the fact that a false step would send him tumbling on the giant rocks below. "watch out," jim warned as he suddenly realized they would have to round a bend close to the wall. cautiously they proceeded, and in a moment they were on a small artificially built ledge which looked as if it might have been meant for some sort of observation post, for from its height was a wide open stretch over the city, and when the woods beyond were less dense, a guard might have been able to see for miles. here the boys had to stop for they could get no further, but mills was nowhere in sight. "great guns, he must have been going so fast he went right over," bob gasped, but jim lay flat, wriggled to the edge and looked down. "is he dead?" "no." austin moved back and whispered. "he's all right, but it's a wonder he isn't smashed to a pulp. reckon he had a sort of bump for he's leaning against the wall." "see anyone else?" "no. keep quiet." bob joined his step-brother and presently the boys were staring down at the man who had escaped from them. he appeared a bit dazed, then suddenly he started up vigorously and proceeded along the narrow way toward a row of high stones which looked as if they might once have been a part of the great wall, but now they were standing irregularly several inches apart. at first the boys could see no one else, then close to the far edge of the terrace they made out a tiny wreath of smoke as if some one had built a small fire. "that's where the smell of cooking comes from," bob whispered. "i suppose the thought of food is what started mills off like mad--gee--wonder where--oh there he is." another white man stepped unsuspectingly from between the rocks, stood an instant as if expecting a companion, then he scooped something from the fire and prepared to eat. "can't wait for his company," bob grinned. "if we hadn't eaten those pellets we'd know exactly how empty mills must be." "yes, and i was just thinking of feeding him one. we'd better not watch here too closely, we don't want to be taken by surprise from above or behind." "you bet," bob agreed. "that chap is wearing some sort of dark suit, buddy." "i see, so there must be two here. this can't be the one who was watching us," answered bob. "which means that the other fellow knows, or will know in a few minutes just where we have taken ourselves. you see what's going on down there and i'll be ready to stem any rear attack," proposed jim. "that's o.k. with me, but don't go off anywhere, we don't want to get separated, not an inch," bob insisted. "i won't," jim promised. he placed himself so that he could see the section which curved and not forgetting to watch above, he stood guard while bob stretched out again. austin rather expected they would discover this was some friendly woodsman or hunter who would show them how to get through the forest or to their plane, but in bob's mind there wasn't a doubt as to the attitude of the persons occupying the ancient temple ruin. now the young fellow determined to see what was happening on the edge of the terrace and be thoroughly convinced of the kindliness of the stranger before he made any advance. the man he saw appeared to be consuming sandwiches and baked potatoes and as he devoured them he walked up and down as if anxious to finish. twice he went beyond the boy's range of vision and came back stamping his feet angrily. caldwell was so interested in watching the stranger that he nearly forgot mills, but presently he saw that worthy crouched and moving stealthily forward, dodging from stone or shrub toward the fire. "poor fellow, he must be terribly hungry. perhaps when he gets something to eat and drink he'll get over his craziness," was bob's mental comment. he felt sorry for mills, but there was something so menacing in that slinking figure that he was almost tempted to shout a warning to the stranger. however, when he thought of it soberly, mills was weakened by the hour's experience, the long steady tramp without food he reasoned would not make him a very dangerous antagonist. he wanted something to eat and the boy could not imagine anyone refusing to give him food. "anything interesting?" jim whispered. "no. see the other chap?" bob asked. "not yet." their tasks were resumed and by that time caldwell saw the stranger walking away from his fire. he seemed to have appeased his own appetite, but he did not put out the blaze, merely piled coals over it, left some sort of cooking utensil near by, then started briskly toward the great stones which were all that remained of that section of the edifice. his jaws were working vigorously and in his hand was a hunk of bread and meat which he doubtless determined to consume as he went. the boy wondered what he was doing in the locality, then suddenly he thought there was something familiar about that striding figure. he stared an instant longer as the man drew closer, then he gave a soft whistle. "what is it?" jim whispered. bob sat up, or rather wriggled back. "take a good look at that lad," he said, "i'll watch here." they exchanged places, and jim scowled when his eyes rested on the hurrying man. "ever see him before?" "surely," jim answered excitedly. "the thoughtful lad who carted the gas to the plane when we were on the island coming down with your dad?" "i'll say so," jim answered. he distinctly remembered the day in montego when he had gone to the little town to purchase extra gas. a group of children had been tormenting a hunch-back but had been stopped in the midst of their sport by a military-looking chap who had vanquished them in short order by the effective use of his cane. later, the seemingly kindly man had volunteered to cart the heavy cans in his automobile to where the plane was roosting. he was most cordial and obliging, but the flying buddies later discovered that he had secretly brought not only the gas but the powerful dwarf, who stowed away in the "lark" when he got a chance. hours later, when they were over the caribbean sea, he attacked them viciously. jim had been the one who fought and finally sent the rascal off the "lark" but it had been one experience he expected he should never forget, and now he was staring at the man who had made such a villainous attempt to prevent mr. austin from reaching cuzco. the recollection made him shudder and he wondered how the fellow happened to be in this particular section of the globe. "he won't be a friend of ours," jim said softly. "reckon he lost a bunch of money by not getting his little scheme through, so, if he should happen to discover us we're out of luck." "and how!" "reckon we'd better leave mills and get away from here as fast and as far as we can. shouldn't like to run into that lad--he'd be mighty ugly and we'd have no choice but to use the guns and not miss." they both glanced over again, and then caught their breaths sharply. the man from montego had stopped in his tracks, while mills, suddenly appeared in front of him. the insane fellow's hand shot out, he grabbed the food, stuffed it into his mouth ravenously, but instead of realizing how desperately hungry he was, the montegoean furiously resented losing his meal and landed a resounding punch on mills' head. while he used one hand for the food, mills grabbed the other by the front of his shirt, backed him as easily as if he had been a small boy, toward his own fire. twice he planted kicks in the other's legs, and his powerful hand was twisting the cloth tightly about his throat. desperately the fellow tried to free himself, kicked and struck with his hands, then suddenly he filled the air with shrill shrieks of terror, but these were promptly choked off and he was backed more swiftly. in an incredibly short space of time they were both at the edge of the cliff, then mills raised his victim, shook him as if he were a rat, then with a powerful punch, hurled him out into space. something went flying over the buddies' heads and they glanced up in time to see a small figure rushing down among the rocks. he did not appear to notice the boys, but raced recklessly over the steep incline, leaped down the wall, and leaped like a mad animal across the terrace. the commotion he made seemed to pass unobserved by mills, who was calmly raking the fire and helping himself to the food which had been left. "great scott, that's the dwarf," bob exclaimed, and sure enough the twisted figure was even more unmistakable than his master. the dwarf leaped at mills, who rose just as the rush was made, but his feet were planted firmly, well apart. he did not permit his meal to be interrupted by the attack, but caught the little man much as he had the bigger one. however, instead of hurling him over the cliff, he spread him out face down on the ground and proceeded to sit on him. the dwarf struggled, kicked, bit and screamed but his efforts were futile. "i've read that an insane man has the strength of half a dozen sometimes," jim said softly. "looks as if it's true," bob answered. "one thing is certain, we have to thank mills for bringing our boy friend out of his hole. he must have been stalking along behind us and if it hadn't been for the fight and the yells, he'd have landed on us. that's the way i figure." they sat quietly and had it not been for the seriousness of the situation and their own difficulty they would have indulged in a good laugh. the squirming, kicking dwarf, the undisturbed mills pinning him to the ground while he ate a hearty meal. finally he was satisfied, then he lifted himself, one hand clutching his victim while the other fumbled about the wriggling body. presently he produced a cigarette and he resumed his former position while he enjoyed the smoke. he appeared rational enough and the boys were wondering whether they would be wise to go and speak to him. "reckon we'd better let him alone," bob announced quite as if they had been discussing the matter. "gee, look!" jim exclaimed. they saw a tall indian striding across the terrace and presently he stood in front of mills, who glanced up, then cringed in terror. it made the flying buddies think of the hour when the band had been marching with their treasure and the last man had paused to look at the bandit. now he touched the chap on the shoulder and the two got to their feet. then he beckoned them to follow, which they did as if they dared not disobey. the three hurried across the terrace to the great stones, and then the boys saw the man point to the bottom of one of them. the dwarf stooped, twisted and pulled something heavy out. as nearly as they could see it was a sort of ancient strong box with a heavy cover. mills dragged it eagerly several feet away, and then bob clutched jim's arm. "that stone, look at it," he gasped. "look out," he shouted. but it was too late. the huge stone which had been undermined groaned, tipped, then dropped forward with a mighty crash, pinning the dwarf under its tons of weight. chapter vii. the end of the way "buddy, this can't be real. we must be asleep, or i must be having a nightmare," exclaimed bob in horror as they saw the massive stone completely obliterate the dwarf. "old man," jim said shakily. "let's call it a day and get out of here as fast as we can, but keep a grip on yourself; watch your step." "how are we going to manage it?" "search me, but the thing to hang on to is the fact that we are going to make it somehow." bob tried to grin but it was a sickly effort, and again they glanced down at the scene below. they could see the tall indian walking indifferently across the terrace while mills was just getting the heavy lid off the box which had been dragged from the foundation of ancient stones. it was doubtless the removal of this support which had caused the huge thing to fall and destroy the dwarf; but the lone white man in possession of the treasure appeared to be absolutely unaffected by the tragedy. he finally succeeded in removing the cover and when it was tossed aside the sun shone brightly upon what appeared to be a wonderful collection of glittering jewels. greedily he plunged in his hands, tossing the trinkets up as a miser might, and then he danced about the marvelous find. "come along," jim caught the younger boy's sleeve and the pair turned away from the scene. they made no comment as they climbed back to the terrace, walked thoughtfully toward the natural stairway, and at last began to climb again. on reaching the top they proceeded to the last elevation and arriving there found that it was a huge plateau which had been leveled carefully. there were several streams which ran as if they had been guided around some gardens and then the water tumbled over the edge in a sparkling fall whose spray leaped back fully twenty feet. taking a careful survey of their surroundings, the boys saw that to their left was a strip of woods and through the tops of the trees which were not very tall ones they could see a second clear space beyond. between them and the clearing there was a shallow ravine which they could see grew deeper and wider as it twisted toward the ruins of the ancient city. in one place they saw a wall which had evidently been built to re-enforce the land and prevent the soil from being washed away, but in places the stone work had fallen and the action of water had left a deep, gravel wash. there was little dry timber on the site where they were making their observations and for some unexplainable reason neither of them cared to build their signal fire so near the ruined temple and its tragedies. "let's go a bit further back, set a course through those woods, and get on that bare place," jim suggested. "suits me fine," bob agreed. "it looks lower than this." without further ado they started toward the rocky ledge which rose toward the back, then, facing about prepared to make their way across the ravine through the woods. being first class pilots they made a careful reckoning, noted several easily followed marks by which to set a course, then with a final glance around at the scene made ready to start, but before they took a step they heard a scrambling and a moment later were surprised to see mills, laden with the heavy box, come stumbling toward them. if the man knew they were there, he made no sign, but came half stumbling along bent almost double with the weight he carried. the boys paused uncertainly, both ready to defend themselves should the insane man attack them, but he might have been blind for all the attention he paid to them. as he drew nearer they could see his lips moving, and soon they could hear his mutterings, which were punctuated by queer crackling chuckles as if his throat was parched and dry. "i'm awake, awake," he declared over and over. "awake, and i have it all, every piece, millions of treasure." at that he laughed harshly, then his foot struck against a bit of projecting rock and it took all his strength to keep from falling, but he managed it, although in the balancing maneuver, the box tipped and teetered precariously. mills jerked it tight and then a mass of the shining contents was spilled and went tumbling to the ground. "riches, riches, and i am awake. let it stay, let it stay--i have it all. i have it all, the others have none--i am awake and rich--rich--" the words trailed off into incoherent sounds. he made his way weakly past the boys, pieces of the treasure falling like a trail over the route, and five minutes later he disappeared in a thick grove which fringed the cliff. "gosh," bob said softly when at last mills was out of sight, "he has the treasure." "whew, surely." jim stooped and picked up a handful of the fallen trinkets and as he let them fall again through his fingers, the buddies' eyes met. mechanically they turned their faces toward the trees which concealed their former companion. "a box full of shells--" said bob. "worth four bits a ton," jim added. "whew, speaking of nightmares, if the sandman can beat all this adventure he's going some. seven dead men, a crazy man, besides a band of indians and dressed-up robbers carried away before a broken dam--whew--" "let's get going." bob kicked a cluster of the shells near his feet, then facing about resolutely, started to lead the way across the plateau, into the strip of wood, down the narrowest point of the ravine, up the other side, which was quite steep, and finally they were standing on the clear space they had picked out from the terrace. the site was bare except for a couple of rather large growths more than half way across, and the sky buddies noticed that it seemed to be fringed with a dense timber and long trailing vines. in every way it was an ideal location for their purpose and now they were actually away from the depressing ruins, they sighed with relief. "we've been doing a lot of mooning around," jim remarked cheerfully. "let's make up for lost time." "there's plenty of dry brush for the fire." bob glanced into the sky, then scrutinized the heavens closely, while jim devoted himself to getting acquainted with the vicinity. "not a wing--" but he was interrupted by a hearty laugh which rang merrily from his step-brother's throat. "what in the name of cat-soup and fish is the matter with you?" he demanded, but he stared at this pal anxiously. "you didn't catch anything from mills, did you?" "no," jim answered, then went off again into gales of laughter. it was so loud and hearty that a sleepy echo caught it up and passed it around experimentally until it seemed as if the top of the world was indulging in a grand ha-ha-ha. "hey, old sour-dough, can it! we'll never get anything done if you indulge in hi-strikes--" "ha, ha, ha-ah-haa," roared jim. tears began to roll down his cheeks and he doubled up helplessly as he laughed. "ha-ha-ha," bob repeated mechanically. "ha-ha-ha--" jim kept it up and it came from his very boots. "say, am i so funny?" demanded bob. he was becoming convinced that jim's mind was badly affected by the strain of the past twenty-four hours, and he didn't wonder. "come on, pal, snap out of it--that won't do you any good--not a bit. why, you are acting worse than if some one was tickling the soles of your feet--" "i'm tickled all over," jim gasped merrily. "at what--be yourself or tell me what has set you off--i don't see anything to laugh at--" "no?" "not a thing. this is a serious business, old man, we've got to keep our heads to get out of it." "ha-ha haaahahhhaaa," shouted jim, then he made a slight gesture which seemed to include the entire world. "ha-ha--" "ha--" bob started to mimic him, then his eyes swept swiftly over the place. he turned himself about to look more closely, then, he too opened his mouth and roared with genuine amusement. "ha-ha-ha-ha." it was a soul-satisfying bellow which shook him from head to foot for several minutes, then he pulled himself together. "we don't want to make any mistake." with that he ran to the nearest green pile and began to pull on it. after a moment austin joined him, and although they continued to chuckle as they worked, they had control of themselves. "behold the helicopter," jim cried as the plane began to stand out from the covering of foliage the bandits had put on it. "no wonder you laughed," grinned bob. "when i first saw it i thought i had gone crazy, then i was sure and my giggling apparatus went wide open. gee, to think, after all that traveling--millions of miles it seemed--then to come right back to the place we started from. gosh all friday, it's like finding an everlasting cream puff. whew--aint it a grand and glorious feeling!" "i'll say! if we had built our signal fire over there on the top of the ruin and bradshaw had found us--the plane almost under our noses, howling catnip but he would have had a laugh on us. it was a close shave all right." "suppose i go over the machine and you take a look at the other one. shall we leave it here, or one of us fly it?" jim asked. "don't know that i'm so crazy about going in separate planes, buddy, but they would surely think us nuts to leave one." "that's what i was thinking. i'll pilot one and you take the other. we can mark this section on the chart and have a doctor or someone sent back to get mills. he'll be all right for a few hours and it ought not to be hard to locate him, they can follow his trail of shells. he'll probably spill the whole lot as he goes." "no sense in either of us trying to get him to civilization in one of the planes. if we leave him here, he might come out, just get enough sense to go up in it, then come down in a smash or run into some other machine." "yes. let's get going." whistling and chuckling spasmodically the flying buddies set to work and presently they had the foliage screen out of the way, had wiped the sticky bodies of dead butterflies off the propellers and other parts, examined the control boards, the gas tanks, and then made a tryout test to be sure that everything was as it should be. "oh, gee, this is great. all set, old man?" "contact," bob responded. "fore," bellowed jim. presently they were in the cockpits, the engines roared merrily, it was great to hear them singing smoothly after the long silence and the buddies waved at each other. the helicopter started first, ran a few rods, then lifted almost vertically and when it was off the ground, bob's machine started taxiing swiftly, curved, its nose went up gracefully, then it began to climb, zooming swiftly until it reached the elevation jim had attained. that done the boys smiled with satisfaction, circled about the spot in wide turns only climbing slightly. they took in the entire location, including the site of the ancient ruin, and after several minutes, austin caught sight of mills standing near the fallen stone. they saw the man stare up at them as if their presence in the sky puzzled him, then he bent over the ground and crouched out of sight, as if afraid. having ascertained his whereabouts, the two planes climbed again and when they were well in the ceiling, they leveled off, pointed their noses toward the sea, and with courses set, raced at high speed toward their goal. mills' plane proved to be a faster machine than the canadian mountie's, but it gave a very good account of itself. they had been flying nearly fifteen minutes when suddenly jim spied a plane circling high in the distance. it banked, dipped, turned and came rushing toward them, the british insignia showing plainly on the fuselage. soon it drew close and the flying buddies could see two men in her, one with a glass to his eyes, and in a moment the man waved; it seemed as if he were jumping up and down in the cock-pit, and the boys grinned widely as they realized that he was probably some airman who had spent long anxious hours in search of them. with a wave of his hand the pilot circled about them, then zoomed up, and shot forward at top speed toward the barracks airdrome. "he's taking word in," jim said to himself. it was wonderful to be going back to them, those kindly britishers whose tongue and ideals were nearly like the americans. the little plane quickly outdistanced the boys and presently was only a speck on the horizon, but it seemed to austin, even though the machine was swallowed up in the afternoon sunlight, there remained a bit of the nation's color in the heavens to signify that its fine men were ready to lend a hand, take a fair share of dangers, and understand. jim felt as if it had been years since he and bob had taken off from the smooth run-way, watched the soldiers and people of the town wave after them, the cheers carrying on even above the roar of the machine. since then the flying buddies had contacted with an entirely different sort of creature; it was rather like being dragged through miles of clinging, slimy mud, and what he wanted most of all at that moment was a good bath, but he didn't expect there was water enough in the world to rid them of the unwholesome association of lang and his gang. then he saw bob pointing west of them and glanced in that direction. there were two other tiny specks which also zipped about and came rushing toward them swiftly as an arrow shot from a strong shaft. the boys slackened their own speed, and presently the two planes were racing along beside them, and then bob guessed that the man at the controls was bradshaw and his companion was allen ruhel. with a slight wave of the hand and a brief acknowledgement the three machines roared through the heavens. they were joined by one other plane, and an hour after leaving mills at the ancient ruin, they were gliding down gracefully, while it looked to the boys as if everyone in the province had assembled to welcome them and learn what had happened. soon the helicopter's wheels hit the ground, ran a short distance and stopped. dozens of men came rushing to the side of the cockpit. "where have you been--" "are you hurt?" "what happened to you?" "did you get blown off--" "the whole country has been looking for you--" "it's great that you are back safe--" "thank god you didn't have a smash-up." the queries and exclamations were hurled so fast it was impossible to answer, but in a moment, before jim could loosen his strap, allen ruhel was beside him. "glad to see you, old top. like to hop inside and freshen up a bit?" he asked casually as if the boys had not been gone more than a few hours. "like it better than anything else in the world," jim answered, and bradshaw looked at him narrowly. "anything we can do, just sing out--" "i'd like to know about mom," bob announced a bit chokily, for he hoped hard that she had not been terrified by the news of the strange disappearance. "mrs. austin is quite top hole, you know." ruhel answered. "she wasn't given all the particulars and a cable is off now to let them know that you came in under your own power," bradshaw added. "the first man who sighted you sent it." "thanks a lot," bob grinned. if his family was not suffering the agony of suspense, the rest did not matter, he thought. "come along," captain seaman invited. it was a difficult task to get through the crowd which pressed about eagerly, and hundreds of hands, men's, women's and children's, touched those of the american boys who had come back. in the meantime they were safe, but they must be hungry and worn, although they did not look so bad--certainly not nearly so bad as if some airman had found them beneath the remains of a wrecked or burned machine. thank god for that! thank him especially for the sake of their mother and father--after all, the world was pretty fine. someone began to sing a medley of songs loved by americans, and the sky buddies could hardly keep back the tears. it was wonderful having people who were so jolly to a fellow. "here are my quarters," seaman smiled cordially. "you know them. make yourselves at home--" "thanks a lot," jim said chokily. "er, ah, the doctor is just across the way. by george, he's coming now. decent sort of old sawbones. let him give you the once over, it will perk him up no end, you know--" "we're not hurt at all," jim assured his host. "to be sure, i didn't think you were, but you may as well be a good sport and give the old fellow something to do. er, if you could dig a scratch, no matter how little, just enough to make him think you may be in danger of blood poisoning. we're such a bloody healthy bunch--i'll send him in, do what you can for him." "all right," the boys agreed. chapter viii. when the butterflies die after a good warm bath and a shower which helped the buddies no end, they donned robes and admitted "sawbones," a kindly old soldier whose real name was manwell. he lost no time in preliminaries but in one swift, all-including glance, noted the ridges and welts left by the ropes that had bound the upper part of the strong young bodies for hours, the feet swollen from the long tramp, and the unmistakable dark rings under their eyes which evidenced lack of sleep. "for a pair who are reported 'all right' you look a bit the worse for wear," he remarked gravely. "stretch out on this cot and rest while i take your brother," he added to jim. "all right," austin answered. "we're not really brothers," bob added. "each of us started out with a whole pair of parents, but after jim lost his mother and my father passed on, we looked each other over, decided that in union there is strength, so we got the two grown-ups married. jim was his father's best man and i gave my mother away; that is i agreed to the arrangement as long as jim's dad treated mom all right, but it's understood i fill him full of lead if he falls down on the job." the doctor laughed heartily at this bit of family history. "from all i have been able to gather mr. austin is still going around without any punctures," he chuckled. "yep, haven't even taken down a shot gun," answered bob. "then you feel that you made no mistake," the doctor remarked. "sure," jim put in. "i'd known dad all my life; bob knew his mother all his life, so we sort of guaranteed them to each other. sometimes it doesn't work so good because my dad's got the habit of acting perky because he's got two sons--" "and mom saves the gizzards for jim and when there is only one piece of chocolate cake left, she cuts it three ways; i used to get it all." bob scowled darkly. "looks as if trouble might be brewing," said manwell. "you still get the livers," jim reminded his buddy. "i like 'em better than the gizzards," said bob calmly. he set his lips in a tight line when the doctor's fingers explored sore spots on his body, but although manwell was highly efficient he was gentle and the lad realized it was better to submit to this thorough examination. "your disappearance yesterday caused a great deal of excitement," he remarked. "i understand that you were sighted above the black range. that's a pretty wild section, almost entirely unexplored; considered inaccessible. these marks were made by ropes, or some kind of thongs wound pretty tightly, but as far as i can see you have not suffered any serious injury; by that i mean you do not seem to have been hurt, struck or wounded. it will help me considerably if you will tell me something of your experience. there are uncivilized tribes far back among those hills. you must have been walked for hours--" "we did walk for hours," jim answered, "and we fell in with an uncivilized tribe of white men, not natives--" "white men?" "yes. we were captured by a gang and made to do a marathon; no indian came near us, but we did see a few." "then i do not need to worry about the sort of treatment you might get from natives. i should have known it, for as long as the whites mind their own business, the natives attend very strictly to theirs." the doctor finished his examination of the younger boy, then turned his attention to austin. "we both got the same sort of deal," jim explained. "you'll be all right shortly, i'm sure, but i should like to keep an eye on you both for a few days," he told them, then went on chatting as he worked. "did you happen to see the butterfly flight? i was up with a friend in the morning and saw a little of it." "reckon we saw it all--or a lot of it, anyway," said jim. "pilots avoid them usually for they are apt to gum the works of the plane--" "we were on the ground when it flew over so they did not force us down. it was a great sight, but sort of sad. i didn't know what it was at first, then i remembered reading that they do that every year;--it was thick as a cloud and when they got above us we couldn't see the sky." "marvelous sight, marvelous. now you can slip into pajamas and soft slippers. expect you'd like something to eat," the doctor smiled at them. "naturally i'm keen to know what happened to you, but--" "i say doc, if we tell what happened to us no one will believe half of it, but i reckon i'd like to tell it to our friends from canada and captain seaman, even if it does sound like--" "like a pack of fairy tales," added bob. "i say," there was a knock at the door and the voice was ruhel's. "come on in, we were talking about you," jim called, and the canadian mounty entered without further ceremony. "you're looking fit. if i had a horseshoe i'd pin it on you." "don't those boys want something to eat?" that was the captain's wife, who was positive that her guests were famished. "expect they do," the doctor laughed, "although i cannot see that they have suffered especially from hunger." "we didn't," bob answered, but he did not say anything about the pellets they had eaten. presently the flying buddies were seated in comfortable chairs before a dainty, but bountiful repast to which they did full justice. captain seaman, ruhel, bradshaw and the doctor were in the huge cool living room where the table was set, and although they were all agog to get the story of what had happened to the boys, they kept a discreet silence while the meal was in progress. "professor martin to see you, sir--" before the servant could say anything more, a tall, thin, bespectacled man entered the room impatiently, and the british officer rose, and stared at him coldly. "it is very important that i get in touch with you," the professor declared aggressively. "does it occur to you, sir, that it might be equally important, possibly more so, that you remember your manners, if you have any, and that i should not be disturbed at this moment." his tones were cold as ice and the professor scowled. "i am not usually considered lacking in manners, captain," he retorted sharply. "no?" "no. it is important that i bring this matter to the authorities." "the officer of the day will attend to whatever it is, sir." the captain bowed stiffly, an orderly literally backed the professor out of the room and the boys stared after him in astonishment. "does he own the earth?" jim inquired. "or only an extra pair of socks?" added bob. "he's got a sore head," seaman told them. "came down among the islands with an important expedition as one of several scientists. they are doing a fine piece of work studying insect and vegetable life in the wild sections under a very capable man, chap named morley, but he had to go home a few weeks ago because of illness and this lad martin planted his feet in his chief's shoes, or has tried to. he's succeeded in making himself unpopular with the natives, not only those working for him but the villagers generally. a short time ago they did what you u. s.-er's call, 'walked out on him,' although they had been very satisfactory to morley since he came nearly two years ago. then goodman tried to engage others, but didn't succeed. he is determined to carry the work in a section of the forests which they refuse to enter. he did manage in getting a few half-breeds and full bloods to go on the job, but they quit when the butterflies began to fly to the sea to die. it seems the insects, some of them, set their course above the workers, who are a superstitious lot. to them it is a sign of something, it is not clear to me just what it is." "does he have to conduct the investigation in that particular spot?" jim inquired with interest. "they say he does not. my own men, who know anything of the subject assure me that what they want to study and observe can be found in hundreds of localities. morley and other men of the expedition were of the same opinion, they got along well with the native workers by keeping off their toes and being careful not to infringe with hobbies or ideas. martin has been bull-headed in the matter and wants us to order the indians to go out with him and do what he says. there is something about this butterfly flight; what is it doc?" "i don't know much more than you do except even if there isn't a butterfly in sight for miles, the natives seem to know when they are coming. they just knock off what they are doing and wait until it is over. whatever signs they read from the flight governs their actions but as a rule the majority of them resume their jobs," he explained. "we saw the flight," bob remarked. "yes, one day of it. it takes several days. if martin is sensible he'll take a week's vacation, for not even the negroes will help him now. he may as well turn his attention to something else for the present. how do you feel since you had something to eat?" the doctor asked. "top hole," declared bob. "hadn't you both better have a good sleep now," ruhel suggested. "i'd like to tell you what we were doing before we go to bed. it may be hours before we wake up and in the meantime there's a white man back there--" "a white man?" seaman started to his feet. "yes, his name is mills and he's gone crazy--" "crazy?" this exclamation came from the old doctor, then he turned gravely to the captain. "i do not want to be a butt-in, seaman, but i should like to listen to this story, also, if the boys do not mind, i wish you would permit donald to be present." he turned to jim. "donald is a full blooded native who has spent the greater part of his life with me and my wife. his mother died when he was an infant, she worked for us and we have brought the boy up. in deciding about his life we thought it best to keep him in touch with his own race so he spends a good part of his time with his native relatives. we have given him a christian education, he is interested in things medical; and i do not mind telling you that he has given us a valuable education in many ways." "i am sure don will be interested in what you have to say, boys, and you can depend upon him to the last breath. he's a splendid fellow even if the doc did bring him up," the captain replied promptly. "surely, fetch him along," jim agreed, then added, "but can we make the party sort of private! you are going to hear some whoppers and you'll know whether to send someone in after mills. we didn't dare risk bringing him out." "very good." an orderly went in search of the doctor's adopted son and presently a tall young chap about seventeen years old, with fine manly bearing and a neat white suit but no hat, was ushered in. he was presented to the flying buddies, upon whom he smiled broadly, and then morley explained why he had been sent for. "i am honored," the young fellow nodded. "come along in my office," the captain invited, and soon the party were assembled about a huge table in an upper room. orders were given that they were not to be disturbed on any account. "let's have a look at you," said the doctor. "want to be sure your hearts and things are not going to be strained by lack of rest." he examined them quickly. "all set?" ruhel asked. "you lead off, jim," bob said, so jim started the story of their arrival on the clearing in the forest. he gave the exact location exactly as it showed on the plane's charts and indicators, and when the place was mentioned, donald glanced at the doctor, then leaned forward lest he miss a word of the recital. austin told of the landing, seeing the ancient indian who disappeared so mysteriously, their decision that one of them remain on guard and the boy drew a rough sketch of their location and position. then bob told them of his investigations, how much time he had spent, the sudden appearance of the javarel which split the sapling in front of him, then the three indians, the coming of the butterflies, jim's attempt to reach him and the arrival of the plane which had been forced down by the cloud of insects. "those white butterflies flew over your head?" donald interrupted. "not while i stood there, but when i stepped out of course i got into them," bob replied. "may i ask another question. where did you get those rings you are wearing?" the indian boy wanted to know. jim eyed him narrowly for a moment. "they were given to us by a boy in vermont some time ago. it was during the floods and we carried him and his uncle across lake champlain so they could take the train in new york," he replied carefully. he had a hunch that donald knew something about the rings. "we didn't do much, but everyone was having a bad time, so they gave us the rings because they appreciated getting away," bob added. "thank you," donald smiled. "pardon the interruption," he turned to the captain. "i've seen similar rings and could not resist inquiring." "that's all right, old man," seaman replied. "the second plane landed near us," jim went on with the story, but he omitted the argument over the green emeralds because he did not wish to bring in don haurea if he could help it, although both ruhel and bradshaw had met the scientist when they were in texas looking for young gordon. "if i may interrupt, i should like to ask donald what difference it made whether the butterflies went over the boys' heads," ruhel said. "the doctor spoke of superstitions regarding the annual flight." the dark boy smiled. "it is said that one who deliberately runs into or under them in their flight will meet disaster in a short time, and all with him," he replied. "i see, thank you." "our flying buddies did not deliberately run into them," bradshaw said gravely. "they did not, sir." "great guns, goodman, the professor i mean, did run into them deliberately--" seaman put in soberly. "he did and he endeavored to take workers with him. that is why they deserted him," donald explained. "i see. manwell would have investigated and avoided such an act," the captain remarked, then went on, "excuse me, boys. please proceed with your story." "yes sir." jim took it up, told of entering the forest with their arms bound, the long wearisome tramp, the destruction of red, the loss of the batteries and food. the boy told the tale as simply as possible, and although none of the audience asked another question, there were numerous exclamations of astonishment, and several times one of the men paced up and down the floor as the facts were revealed. at last they came to the brightening of the tunnel, the change of air and finally the appearance of the indian band with their treasures. "when the last of them passed he stopped and looked at mills for a moment, then went on." "stopped and looked at mills?" said the doctor. "yes sir." the old man looked at his young adopted son, who nodded his head gravely. "the man you said that you left back there?" "yes. he's crazy as a bed-bug--" "please proceed," donald urged. "well," jim glanced around. "i don't begin to understand this part at all and i shall not blame you if you set it down as a pipe dream." he turned to bob. "we haven't discussed it between ourselves, buddy, so you listen carefully and check up on what i tell them. chip in if i'm wrong anywhere." "shoot," bob replied, so austin proceeded with the tale of the appearance of the band, through the final destruction of both white men and dark, by the released waters. "i say, don," the doctor's voice was low and not very steady, "is that bloody dam--the place where--" "i believe so, sir." he turned to bob. "you were beside your step-brother, would you please tell us this part of the story as you saw it?" "it's about the same as jim. i had a feeling that it was a dream, but the whole thing seemed sort of unreal and i didn't think of the indian band as different from everything else, not until i came out and was where i could pay any attention to the things separately," bob replied, then he went on telling how he had crouched by the tree, cautiously wriggling until he got his teeth in the rope to chew it apart. jim's appearance just before the task was finished and cutting the lariat with his knife. he proceeded with the account of the indians, the final swirling of the water almost to their feet and its receding as it found the lower outlet. when the boy paused, his face was white and drawn. "suppose you have a drink of this," the doctor urged. he stirred something, in a glass of water, gave some to each of the lads, and in a moment their tenseness relaxed somewhat and the color came back to their faces. "thank you," said jim, then started with the rest of the narrative. chapter ix. the ghosts of bloody dam there were no further interruptions during the unfoldment of the crowded hours of the flying buddies until the final flight for the british barracks. there was a general sigh of relief and a smile when the men listened to that part in which the lads had discovered that they had made a circle in their wanderings and had returned to their starting point. numerous pipes had been lighted and permitted to go out during the recital, and when jim finished, captain seaman struck his tenth match and puffed vigorously. only the doctor and his adopted son did not soothe tensed nerves with the narcotic. the room was as still as if it were empty when the boy's voice ceased, but finally bradshaw broke the silence. "there would have been a howl which could have been heard from chili to quebec if some of the pilots had discovered you lost within a few yards of the plane," he grinned. "surely would," jim admitted. "will you send to search for mills?" bob asked their host, but before the captain could answer, donald spoke. "it will be as well, if i may be allowed to express an opinion, to let him remain as he is for the present." "until the last butterfly passes?" asked the doctor. "yes sir, until the last butterfly passes," the lad replied. "he might injure himself or starve," seaman objected, but he made no move to start the search. "he will not starve, for the forest is full of berries, larger fruits and roots upon which he will learn to sustain himself. he found a fire lighted and will probably have sense enough to keep it going. even if he doesn't, he need not suffer. the ruin has many nooks in which he can protect himself from cold or storms if it is necessary--" "but snakes, or wild animals--" bob protested. "they will not molest him," donald insisted. "if we send air men in after him are they likely to be in danger?" seaman asked quietly. "they are." he turned to the flying buddies. "i believe that you are the first white men who have been through the black range woods, seen what you have seen, and lived to tell your story," he told them quietly. "i've heard that no white man who entered them during the time of the butterfly flight ever came out. as a matter of fact, i understand they have never been heard from again," the doctor added soberly. "we were lucky," jim answered. "i say," bob turned to the young indian. "tell us about this thing, will you?" he glanced about the room. "i'm sure we should all be glad to hear something and none of us will speak of it outside this room." "you can depend upon us," ruhel spoke up. "well--" donald glanced at his father. "donald doesn't often discuss the--er things which are very close to his people," manwell answered for the boy. "not even with us." "there are some things i may tell you," he replied, "but they must not be repeated before the womenfolk. i shall be glad to have this opportunity to talk of them now if we will not be interrupted." he glanced at the captain. immediately that gentleman went to the door, and signaled to an orderly who stood at attention further down the hall. "i shall be occupied here for a time. is anyone in the house?" "no sir. madam has gone to the garden party, and the servants are in their own quarters, sir." "excellent. have a couple of the boys keep watch outside so that no one comes near." "yes sir." "thank you." he closed the door and a moment later they heard the click of heels as the guard hurried to see that the command was carried out explicitly. in the meantime the men puffed, the doctor glanced a bit anxiously at his patients, while the young indian sat as still as if he had been carved out of some fine dark marble. jim's eyes traveled over the well-shaped head, and thought of ynilea, their special friend in the great laboratory, and he wondered if this young fellow might not be receiving some of his training in one of the marvelous underground schools. he recalled that don haurea had told him that the world was ready for some of the information those scientific men had proved and it was possible that this lad, because of his advantages as a doctor's son might have been chosen to bring out for humanity medical or surgical truths still unknown to modern life. he remembered too, that the doctor had said that donald had "been an education" to himself and his wife. perhaps the story the lad would tell them would answer the questions austin dared not ask at this time. he rather hoped they would get an opportunity to be alone with donald before the "lark" was ready to take them north again. "it seems to me you boys are making a rather long day of it," said bradshaw with a scowl. "why remind us of that? this looks like the best time in the world, and if we know a little of the truth of the black woods and the dam, we can go to sleep in peace and not spend hours tossing around while our feeble brains try to find a solution--" "feeble is good," said bradshaw with a grin. just then they heard the two guards pacing back and forth and the orderly returned to his station in the hall. "guess it's all set," the captain told them. "you know," donald looked at their host, "that doctor manwell adopted me when my mother died. i was a baby and he and his wife have been most--" "why not skip that part?" the doctor put in quickly. "i shall try not to embarrass you, sir, but i may as well mention the fact so everyone will understand," he said, then went on, "they have brought me up as carefully as if i were their own son, taught me themselves, hired tutors, and sent me to good schools--" "that you ran away from, you young rascal," the doctor chuckled. "you had already taught me all they could and i wanted to be with you, work with you," he replied. "as long as i can remember some of my own race have been near me. it has always been my privilege to visit them and they too have instructed me. i am especially interested in my father's profession and with his help hope to carry it on--i hope i can become as honored as he is--" "my boy, my boy--" "please don't interrupt. that's not cricket," said bob. "pardon me." "because of this desire in me, my own people have taught me the numerous herbs which grow hereabouts, the chemicals that can be extracted from them, the trees, soil, and even insects. i have not learned a great deal as yet--" "i may as well throw in a bouquet myself. everything he has shown to me is new to medical science, and has proved of great value in curing illnesses considered incurable," the doctor told them. "thank you, sir. as well as these matters, i have learned much about my own race, its traditions, history before the conquest and the destruction of the empire. all of these things are fairly well known to you, so i shall go to the story of the temple ruin the boys visited earlier this morning. it was an ancient city long before the spaniards visited these shores, had a large population, while many of its leading men knew of the ynca empire to the south. the tribes frequently traded with each other, and it was the ambition of our race to extend the northern section of the development to meet that of the yncas which ended, at the time of the conquest, at quito, which was the last great station on the royal road," he paused, and jim nodded. "we've seen some of the ruins," jim said. "no doubt, the land is full of them. in the temple were men and women, the best of the tribes, who recorded the traditions and history in sculpturing, carving, weaving and the knotted twines which are still found in certain localities. the range of the andes mountains which separated us from the southern empires was, and still is, a great barrier. there were no horses, wagons or other means of building, but construction was going on constantly. then our ancient prophets who foretold many things with great accuracy, and read the signs in the skies, the rocks, and the mountains, grew very sober. they foretold that the empire to the south would be annihilated almost entirely and a new race would take complete possession of the whole country." "those prophets surely knew their onions," bob remarked, and donald nodded. "they met with the great men of the land, and for the next hundred years they ceased to build in the sections of the black woods. they devoted themselves to planting great forests, to cutting ways through the mountains which are still undiscovered by the white men, and quietly started a community far from the coast, and so distant from other tribes that their existence in the new community was unknown. each new generation studied the signs, and although many of the people were discontented because of the activities carried on, which were in opposition to their own desires, the younger prophets continued to verify the findings of the old men, so that no change was made in the plan. the people who did not believe that it was possible for a strange race to come here and survive, separated themselves from the others and resolved to remain where they were. however, they did assist in the construction of hiding-houses and passages to which they could flee if the threatened danger ever came. the southern empire was growing both north and south and our people, some of them, were sure the others lacked what you now call a progressive spirit." he smiled at the flying buddies. "great old spirit," bob remarked. "over a hundred years from the time of the first prophecy, tribes coming from the northern islands began to tell strange tales of a race which came out of the sea in winged boats, spit fire from sticks, and threw red hot stones which caused everything they struck to crumble and fall. they dressed in a shiny metal and mounted themselves on strange animals they called horses, whose hoofs trampled men, women and children. they spoke of their king, made amazing promises to the natives, stole gold and jewels by the boat-load, and forced the tribes to work for them and pay them tribute." "generous little habit those middle-agers had," said jim. "the people of our land heard these stories and most of them withdrew to the fastness they had prepared for themselves, but the others refused to credit the strange stories and could not conceive of any race making slaves of them. they built themselves more hiding places, buried their treasures, made circuitous passages through the thick forests and filled them with spiked traps, deadly snakes, vipers, and treacherous bridges which would fall as soon as any weight was put upon them. they deserted their city and temple, and stripped it of its wealth. in the course of a few years the white men appeared in their boats, threw their hot stones, or bullets, fired their guns, and marched into the land. they found, here in the north, a few wild tribes besides all that was left of our people who had remained behind." "reckon they wished they had gone when the going was good," said jim. "one day they learned that a new army of white men was coming, so a band carrying the treasures of the temple with them started by a roundabout route to join the distant community. they marched through their passage to a deep meadow where they expected to find an opening by which they could continue their journey, but they discovered that a solid wall rose in front of them and that behind it a stream had formed a good-sized lake. some of the men went to locate a route around this. while the others waited, the white men appeared with their guns, armor, horses and blood thirsty dogs. they destroyed the band, took the treasure, and being unfamiliar with the country, started their horses up the cliffs, which were rugged and appeared possible to ascend. in the struggle and the scrambling, stones were loosened, a stream burst through and the entire wall gave way, killing them all." "but that was hundreds of years ago," protested jim. "yes, over four hundred," donald replied. "the men of the band who went in search of a passage met a party of hunters from the new community. their prophets had foreseen the disaster and these men were on their way to help their people if they could. when they reached the spot they saw the destruction which had been wrought and grieved deeply, for among the dead were many of their own relatives." "pretty tough," said bob. "one of the old prophets from the temple was with the party. they spent three days at the lake, fasting and praying to the sun, then they cursed the site, the black woods, all that was in it, and all that came into it. as they prayed the heavens grew dark, although it was day; a great comet shot across the sky, leaving a long pathway of green light which did not fade for many hours. by this sign the men knew that their prayers were answered. they cursed the place again, willed that the spirits of their slaughtered companions should return every year through all time as long as the white butterflies passed over the land to the sea; that the white men who had destroyed the band should repeat their crime and again take their punishment as meted out to them by the stored-up waters of the lake." "whew," exploded bradshaw and he mopped his forehead. "they further willed that any man who deliberately forced himself into the woods and under the butterflies should find destruction before the moon changed," the boy went on solemnly. "that while the spirits of those men of the temple walked the earth, if one of them gazed on a white man, met his eyes, that man should go mad, should live the life of an animal, so that no animal should injure him, but he should burrow in the ground for shelter as long as he lived, and that he should thus pass a span of years equal to the life time of three men--" "good god," whispered ruhel. "they surely made a good job of it while they were at it," jim said softly. "the last we saw of mills, he was digging in," added bob, and there was no mirth in his tone. "and he's got three life-times to serve," said the doctor sadly, then added, "i have seen two men in the forests who seemed to be doing the same thing--they are so old no one knows how many years they have lived." "that is why i said we must leave mills. he would fight you like a demon, probably injure your men who tried to help him--" "he picked up that chap who was with the dwarf and tossed him about as if he were a rubber ball," bob reminded them. "the strength of a man who is insane," said ruhel. "we've had some dealings with them in canada, powerful woodsmen, and it takes almost the whole force to overcome one." "guess we've all had such experiences," said seaman. he smoked thoughtfully and stared at donald. "now you know the story of the bloody dam. there are few of the natives who really know the tale, but every year someone brings out evidence that the black woods must be avoided; many legends have grown up about it, and neither the natives nor the negroes will go into it at this time of the year. you are in charge of this section of the country, captain seaman, my father and mother have made their home here, so i received permission to tell you the story that you might understand," he finished impressively. "thanks no end. it will probably save us many difficulties," the captain answered, and he gave no sign of doubting the strange tale. "i've been in these parts many years and i've seen queer things--" "jinks, isn't there any end to the curse?" bob demanded. "surely those old fellows ought to be satisfied with four hundred years of punishment." "and their own people have to be a part of it," jim added. "as long as the butterflies make their flight to the sea," donald replied. "the black woods and range are really a small area of land, probably about fifty miles square, and all white men will do well to keep out of it." "it's a small space to avoid, considering the extent of the land where one can travel with safety," said seaman. "it happened to be on the edge of my province and i'm willing to give it a wide berth, but it does seem as if there must be some way of cleaning it up." "better concentrate on cleaning up things nearer at hand," the doctor advised, then he turned to the buddies. "in spite of my son's story i can see that your lids are heavy. you must not make your bodies pay too dearly because of your adventure. get into a couple of bunks and forget the world for the next few hours." "reckon you are right," jim replied, and he did have difficulty suppressing a yawn. "we shall not need rocking," bob added, then he held out his hand to donald. "thanks a lot for telling us what it was all about. we have to hang around here for a few days until our plane is in ship shape again. she bumped her nose on an iceberg, or something like that, and has to have her face lifted. hope we see you again before we leave." "my hope is the same. rest as my father advises and when you have waked perhaps the captain will send up an american flag to let us know that all is well with you--" "nothing of the kind," the captain declared. "but i'll have the boys run our own flag up and down so you'll get the word quickly." chapter x. an invitation it was not yet sundown when the sky buddies finally got to bed, and as bob said, they did not need to be rocked; they went to sleep almost as soon as their weary heads touched the pillows. long after breakfast had been served in the captain's home the next morning they opened their eyes at about the same minute. shades had been drawn to darken the rooms but through a crack jim could see light, so his first thought was that he had probably rested about an hour, but bob had a view of the clock which contradicted such an idea. "wow," he exclaimed, seeing that his step-brother was awake, "it's tomorrow, old timer." "g'wan," jim growled. "i've hardly been asleep." "go back if you want to, but i'm hollow to my boots--" "then hustle up and the trouble shall be immediately corrected." that was mrs. seaman who had been listening for a sign that her guests might soon begin to feel as if they had caught up with the sandman. "is that a threat or a promise?" "both. good morning. my husband looked in on you a couple of times before he went on duty, and said to let you have it out," she smiled. "i'll have the orderly run the water for your baths and you can take things easy today. those are orders," she told them. "and we always obey orders," jim answered. now that he knew it was late, he banished the idea of another doze, stretched, yawned, and would have thrown a pillow at bob if they had been at home, but guests in a stranger's house have to be more circumspect. their toilet did not take very long, for in the warm climate few clothes are required, and presently the pair, feeling fit as a couple of fiddles, presented themselves to their hostess, who looked them over with frank approval. "you appear to be top hole," she said. "and we are," jim assured her. while they were at breakfast one of the men came in with word that the boat was leaving for the "bug settlement" to take doctor manwell on his weekly inspection of the workers. donald was making the trip with his adopted father, and if the flying buddies cared to accompany the expedition, there was plenty of room and they were quite welcome. "that's the place martin is managing, isn't it?" jim asked. "yes. they were having some difficulties yesterday, but i expect it is over by now. those disagreements come up and pass quickly. i have also been invited, and i have been delighted to accept. mrs. manwell and a couple of other women are also going along. we'll have rather a jolly time." "sounds mighty interesting to me," bob told her. "then it is settled that we go. donald will come and let us know when they are ready to start," mrs. seaman explained. half an hour later the indian lad, neat as a pin in his fresh white suit, arrived to escort the party to the launch. they drove from the barracks, out though the little white town with its conglomeration of ancient and modern dwellings and small stores, along the shore road where they had a wonderful view of the water, blue as a sapphire, and finally stopped on the wharf where the doctor, his wife and the rest of the party had already assembled. mrs. manwell was a kindly looking woman, somewhat younger than her husband, and she presented two young friends, phyllis and barbara harding and their mother. "we have been planning to take the trip to the 'bug settlement' for some time," mrs. harding told the flying buddies with a cordial smile, "but we residents of the islands are the greatest procrastinators in the world; it is only when we have guests with us that we exert ourself to show off our country." "bob is a bug-nut; crazy about insect and plant life, so he'll have a whale of a time," jim told her. "i enjoy seeing what people are studying, but i haven't got as much brains for it as buddy." "we'll have a picnic lunch and you can see dr. manwell's clinic. he takes care of both the natives and whites, babies and all," said phyllis, who was a jolly sort of girl. "it'll be great," bob declared enthusiastically. "i suppose you would prefer traveling by plane," mrs. manwell said. "it's quicker, but we like to be on the earth sometimes and have a good look at her. look at those fishes!" a whole school went scooting past, some of them darting out of the water as if they too were thoroughly enjoying themselves. the boat made its way about a quarter of a mile from the coast, its nose plowing a deep trough and its stern leaving a wide triangular trail of rollers and foam. there was just enough breeze to make the trip delightful and the picnickers jollied each other at a lively rate as they sped along. it took nearly an hour to reach the mouth of the small river they expected to go up, and when they finally turned inland the change from the vast expanse to the narrower waterway, with its swamps, extravagant growths and forests, made the flying buddies exclaim with wonder. "wouldn't you prefer to be flying?" barbara asked. "this is immense," bob told her. "i suppose the men of the expedition have an airplane." "they have two," the engineer answered, "but only one is at camp now. it's a triple motor with a cabin, but the pilot has been sick for a couple of days so it has been out of use. the other chap flew to jamaica to get some special equipment and will not be back for a couple of days." "my father is to see from what the pilot is suffering," donald remarked. "he did not let anyone know he did not feel well until this morning." "i hope it is not anything serious, poor fellow. he should have been brought in to town, it seems to me." "we wanted him to come, but he insisted he'd do all right if the doctor came and looked him over," said the engineer. "if he would be better in town, we will fetch him back," dr. manwell announced confidently. they were making their way through a swift pass between high, overhanging cliffs, and ten miles further along they saw the outskirts of the tiny settlement with its rows of tents, log cabins, community houses, and native's quarters. there seemed to be very few persons about, but a couple of white boys came to meet the boat when it reached the dock, and caught the hawser the engineer tossed to them. "i suppose you want to go right to the village, sir, but i thought our young american friends would like to go around the loop and get a good look at the works, whatever is near here," the engineer said, and he glanced at the buddies. "that's an excellent idea. it will not take long. i shall visit my patients, and suggest that the ladies of the party get things ready for our picnic luncheon," the doctor proposed. "we will do that, and some of us may be able to help you," barbara spoke up quickly, because she had made up her mind that when she was old enough she was going to be a nurse. the plan was adopted, and as the landing party was helped ashore, the two southern boys eyed the flying buddies with interest. "where is professor martin?" the doctor inquired. "he went off with a party of natives early this morning. they have been angry with him, so i guess he's trying to square himself by giving them a feast and a holiday," the older lad replied. "that's good. he'll find that he will make much better progress if he is a little patient in his dealings with them," said the doctor. "i suppose that is why you two lads are alone." "i don't like the prof. and don't care about his parties, but the native children and their mothers, most of them, went along with the men. i guess they are going to hunt and have a great time, but i'd rather stay when you are due," the younger lad answered frankly, and the doctor smiled. "all ashore who are going ashore?" the engineer called. "got the luggage?" "everything and everybody," laughed phyllis. "then we're off." the hawser was drawn in, looped about its own hook, the engine started again, and the launch went chug-chug-chugging back into the middle of the stream, the party on shore waved, and the buddies waved back. "its great of you to think of taking us around," said bob. "it occurred to me that you would get a better view of things, a more general one, if we went around the loop. by that i mean up a branch of the river and across into where the main stream turns. this water does more twisting around than you can shake a stick at, and when we first came down we had to do a lot of exploring before we knew that it was all one stream, not half a dozen. the pilots helped with that job. any other way would have taken weeks, for the forest is so thick in most places that a man has to chop his way through. the site of our principal investigations is an island, really, and the bug-men seem to have found more specimens than they ever realized existed. i didn't think much of the job when i got it, but i'm as interested as all the rest in what they have accomplished," howard went on pleasantly, and both boys thought he was splendid. "we heard that it came here under another leader," jim remarked. "it did, and believe me, it won't be long before the present incumbent gets his walking papers. that's one thing the pilot is going to engineer in jamaica, because martin is a bad man. he thinks he knows everything, won't listen to anyone, and has caused more trouble in a few weeks than we've had in the two years we've been here," he told them. "too bad he's such a die-hard," said jim. "now, here we are. look ahead there, i'll go a bit slow. see that scaffolding way up high?" he pointed to the right and the boys saw the framework above a thick roof of foliage, and even as they watched, could see a couple of men moving slowly along it and apparently examining something with magnifying glasses. "are they getting specimens?" jim asked. "yes. they have discovered that insect life exists in layers. the bugs that live above that foliage screen are different from those below it, and in a place as high as that, there are sometimes several species in the woods underneath." "expect they get some wonderful butterflies," said bob, who had a fine collection of his own at home. "indeed they do. you can see them before you go. they have dozens of cases, and have already sent crates of them to the museums all over the world." they passed this first station, and then putting on more speed went rushing swiftly over the water, which was dark green and very deep. the boys were intensely interested in this part of the trip, and when the men in the stations noticed the boat, they shouted to howard and waved greetings to the visitors. "do they mind being away off alone?" jim asked. "reckon they get homesick sometimes, but there are radios, and that sort of thing in camp, and when the job is finished they will each get a good vacation to make up for such a lot of hard work. here we can go ashore." howard ran the boat close to the land, made it fast to a sapling, and then led the way to where several men were busy collecting, assorting and classifying the lower strata of insect life. they all nodded a cheery greeting to the guests, showed them some of the exhibits, and the paraphernalia, and bob was so interested that he wished he could spend a month with those busy fellows. "you will get a chance to read about what we have accomplished and that will be easier than staying here," one chap laughed. "gosh, a fellow would like to live half a dozen lives to take in all the good things that are going on," said bob. "great age we're living in, but even a bug can teach us no end." "we are going all the way around, so we'd better start," howard reminded them, so with a sigh, caldwell tore himself away, and presently the three were back in the launch, chugging off from the shore and its interesting workers. they made two more stops before they reached the branch stream, where the researchers were all stationed on high scaffolds. "their stuff went to camp yesterday, so you wouldn't see anything different," howard told them and they chugged by. the branch was so narrow and winding that it took all his skill to pilot his boat, and the boys were thrilled with the wonders all about them. there were hundreds of great vines, heavy with fruit and flowers, enormous interlocking trees through which birds of brilliant plumage flashed swift as streaks. some of them called hoarsely to the boatmen, while others, far back, paused in their flight to trill their own sweet melodies. hundreds of monkeys of all sizes chattered at them or swung from branches with inquisitive glances, and twice, impudent rascals threw pieces of wood defiantly after them. they saw a couple of little fellows leaping along the shore evidently curious about the great rollers the boat left behind it, but when one extra large wave swept over the leader, he leaped to the nearest tree and scolded roundly. "you were looking for it," bob chuckled. "like to take one home?" howard asked. "the boys have caught a few, but they usually let them go." "i'd rather leave them here where they belong," bob answered. "i do not believe they would take to an airplane." "oh, you don't? that's where you are wrong. the pilot who went to jamaica found one stowed away in his bus when he first came down, and he's been with him ever since. the little pest won't leave the machine as long as he has his aviation suit on." "tell us another." "that one is true. when they get up where it's cold, he gets into the chap's pocket and pulls down the flap. that's a fact. there was a story about it in the papers and a picture of the pair of them in the plane," howard insisted. "reckon we'll have to believe it." jim eyed a small monkey who was clinging, frightened to his mother. "if it wasn't for your parents, i'd take you along," he called, and as if the mother understood, she ran along the branches until she was ahead of the boat, then stopped and scolded furiously. "it's all right, you needn't get so het up about it--i haven't taken him." "he's admiring him, you flapper," bob shouted. "you should be flattered instead of mad." "now we're on the last stretch," howard announced as the boat turned again. "it's five miles by water to the village; three by airline." "it was great of you to take us around," said jim. "surely was," added bob. "glad you liked it. we don't usually take parties over the route because they are not always careful, but i had what you american boys call a hunch that you would appreciate it and not do any damage. the site of the work isn't generally known because the professors did not want to be pestered with too many visitors, but a few have come. some of the scientific publications have sent writers to get articles, but several of the men working here send out that sort of stuff themselves, so only special men have been taken around the works," howard explained. "sounds as if we are nearing the village," jim remarked a bit later, because he heard voices quite distinctly. "we are near, and not near. we couldn't get across here, but it's only about a quarter of a mile if we could go through. it's a mile and a half by the boat." "suppose they did not want to cut the place up too much." "no. they have had to do a lot of that anyway," howard answered. they were going through what appeared like a natural passage over which the great branches formed an arch, and through the openings, the boys caught glimpses of numerous parrots, some plain green, almost the shade of the trees in which they perched, while others were gaily colored with bright red and yellow, their long tails hanging gorgeous and graceful. "i should not mind having one of them to take home to mom," bob remarked, "but she'd be displeased if i caught it and brought it away to live the rest of its life in a cage. my mother doesn't like to see things confined." "on the cross-bar ranch all the pens and corrals have to be huge. even the pigs have spacious quarters; so big they won't fatten. the foreman built a small one where she doesn't notice it," jim added with a grin. "doesn't she miss them?" howard asked. "he's managed so far to see that she doesn't," bob replied, "but he's lucky that she keeps away from the pigs pretty much." "i see--" "o--o--" just then a shrill scream came so clearly and sounded so startling that the flying buddies sprang to their feet. "o--" "is something the matter?" jim asked quietly. "that sounds like a woman's scream," bob added, and their faces paled as the panic-stricken cry came again. "it is a woman," howard answered, and he opened up his engine, putting on every ounce of power he dared, and bending low as the boat shot along the treacherous waterway. chapter xi. revenge! revenge! "have you got any guns aboard?" jim asked tensely. "no. there are a good many in the settlement and at the stations, but i've never bothered to carry any on the boat," howard answered. then again came the frightened cry of a woman, followed by a number of screams, which stopped suddenly as if a hand had been placed over the mouth that uttered them. with straining eyes the buddies tried to peer through the tall, impenetrable foliage which grew on both sides of them, while the engineer stared tensely ahead lest he send his boat on the rocks that lined the way. it seemed to them as if hours passed, although it was only a few minutes before they raced around the last turn and shot forward into a wider stretch of water at the further end of the village. at first they could not see anything unusual about the community, but as they went along they made out a confused collection of native men and women. the white people among them appeared to be herded in the middle, and the moment the engine was silenced, startled voices cried protestingly, as the huge indians crowded close. jim heard one voice above the others, speaking a language he did not know, and recognized don's clear tones which sounded cool and determined. howard brought the boat up to the beach, but he hesitated a moment. "thinking of taking some of them off?" bob whispered and the man nodded his head. "looks as if the natives have jumped on the whites for some reason or other," he answered. "i don't want to hop out if we can get the women away, but those fellows look ugly and our chances are mighty slim, i'm afraid." "wait here for us," jim said softly. then he leaped ashore, his hands dug deep in his coat pockets, and bob, not knowing what was in his step-brother's mind, followed suit. "better keep on the outer edge of them," howard warned. "we will!" jim ran a few yards, and yelled at the top of his lungs. "you fellows want a bomb or two right in the middle of you?" he drew one fist up as if it held something large and deadly, and a few of the men faced him quickly, but the others merely crowded closer to the white women and sneered defiantly. "no kill own women," one declared. "don't kid yourself," jim reported quickly. "i'll blow up the lot of you in about a half a minute." he looked exactly as if he meant every word of it, and he did, but there was nothing more dangerous in his pocket than a small flashlight. then he saw donald standing close beside his mother and father, whose arms were bound with thongs. "what's it all about?" he demanded. the young indian spoke to the men nearest him; presently there was a silence, and he faced jim. "i am glad that you appeared with your bombs, mr. austin, you and your brother, but i pray that you will not use them immediately. i am sure the men here will listen to reason," he said elaborately. "they won't have much time to listen to reason. where i come from we make a practice to shoot or throw our bombs first and apologize afterwards," jim snapped, and his eyes blazed furiously. "i heard those women scream. tell those fellows to take their hands off, or i won't listen to anything--not a thing!" "i will," donald said quickly. both boys knew that a good many of the natives understood perfectly what was said, and now those who were nearest to the belligerent-looking young texans stepped away from their captives. donald interpreted the speech, and the other women were promptly released. "that's better. now, what's the trouble," jim thundered, and was glad that his voice was a deep one. "professor martin took a party of men, women and children into the woods. they thought they were going to have a party and a feast but he lead them to the black woods, into which they will not go until after the last butterfly has passed over to the sea." "yes," jim snapped. "he guided them into a passage he had found which lead them through the thickest part of the forest. some of the men got suspicious and asked questions, then they all refused to go on, but the professor had herded the women and children ahead of him along with a couple of huge brutes he'd picked up in town. they forced the women to go on, and threatened to shoot the men if, they did not come with him and work where he wished." "i see." "they went along and were coming up a grade, when they heard strange sounds, the tramping of many feet. they broke and ran back." "well." "they could not bring the women and children with them, so to be revenged, they came back and determined to kill every white woman and man they found here." "yes." jim was thinking hard and he certainly wished that his pockets were full of explosives. "they gathered up friendly tribes to help them, and landed here about half an hour ago, took possession of all the guns in the settlement, drove the native women away, and captured the white women," donald explained. "don't they know the professor will come back with their families?" bob asked. "at this time none may come back from the black woods," one man declared sullenly. "none comes out alive." "the professor, who is a fool, will himself never come back. he took children, our children, to their deaths," another put in darkly. "for the loss of them, we take the white women," snapped a third, and his hand went toward phyllis' shoulder. "hold off," jim snapped, stepping forward quickly, and the hand remained suspended in the air. "now, listen to me, you fellows, i'll get your women and children out of the black forest, or woods--" "they will be dead--none comes out alive--never since the curse of bloody dam." "let me tell you something, you men. i was in the black woods, i've been at the bloody dam, my buddy here and i were there the first day the butterflies started their flight, and we came out alive--" "you lie--" "i do not lie. we heard the baying of the dogs, saw the fall of the stone wall, the wall on which the ancient prophet stood when he cursed all who entered the black woods--" "you saw and heard?" an old man came close. "did one of them look into your eyes?" the voice shook and the man's lips trembled. "none looked into my eyes, nor my buddy's eyes," jim answered solemnly, "and we came through, past poison snakes, over rotten logs, and now, on the ancient ruin there is a white man into whose eyes the last man of the band gazed. the man is mad, he was digging a hole in the ground when we saw him last." "this is true," donald added; then he spoke in their own tongue and the natives stared at the two white boys as if they were beings from some other world. "how can you bring our children back?" one asked and his lips were set in a firm line. "there is an airplane here. we will go to fetch them. howard, who is in the boat, where there are more bombs, will stand guard. you must let the white women go to the shore and no man must lay a hand on them until we return. do you understand?" "you will go to the settlement for soldiers," one snarled. "i will go to the black woods, to the bloody dam if need be, for your children, and i will fetch them back. i do not lie," he declared with great soberness. "you shall go. the white woman may assemble near the boat with the engineer; but if in three-quarters of an hour you have not returned, they shall all be destroyed," the old man answered, and the other nodded their assent. "you have been in the black woods and you cannot lie," a younger man spoke sharply. "if we do not hear the loud purr of your engines in the time set, they shall die. while you are gone, many of the friendly tribe will post themselves so that they will know if you do not keep your word, and if but one soldier appears, all shall be killed." "i'm not worrying," jim answered, and wished clear down to his boots that the statement was true, for he was frightened. "can all the natives speak english?" bob asked. "you mean those with the professor?" donald wanted to know. "yes." "a few of them can." "good. now, where is that plane? howard said it had a cabin. how many women and children did they leave behind?" "about fifteen or twenty," the indian lad answered quietly. "if we cannot bring them in one load, we can in two," said jim, but he kept his fists in his pockets as they went to the shed into which the plane had been run. it took only a few minutes to get her engine warmed up, the flying buddies were in the cock-pit, and jim turned to donald. "is there likely to be more than one passage through the black woods?" he asked. "there is only one. these men say they were climbing most of the way, if that is any help as to direction." "thanks. don't give up the ship." "good luck." no one waved when the huge airplane lifted off the ground, spiraled over the little group assembled near the water, with their dark-skinned guards standing close by. bob looked over the side and saw a number of the naked men making their way into the wood to points from which they could give warning if the soldiers or workers connected with the settlement came to help the prisoners. from up in the air the situation looked even more serious than from on the ground, and the buddies exchanged anxious glances. "i'm banking on the fact that they were climbing up hill. as i remember it, we went pretty level for a while, then began to descend over a rough route," said jim through the speaking tube, for the plane's equipment was not very modern. "hoping they'll come out on that hill?" "that's the idea." "remember the chart readings?" "surely. i sketched the place and location for captain seaman," austin replied. "but suppose we do not find them, or find they have been killed?" caldwell's lips were grim. "if we took that information back to the natives, the women would be slaughtered." "i know," jim nodded. "don't you think you'd better take word to the settlement? there are little towns around here and someone could get a note through to captain seaman--" "and he'd get killed trying to bring them out! if we dropped a message, some of the natives might get hold of it, and buddy, we haven't got a second to go down and find a white man." after that they sat silent as the huge machine thundered up over the hills, past villages, white and native, over the ridge or the nearest range, over rushing rivers, and finally in the distance they were sure they saw the black woods which stretched for miles wild and desolate, particularly at this time of the year, when a funeral somberness seemed to hover over it and its ancient tragedies. on they sped, and at last bob pointed toward a high bare clearing and there beyond the ravine arose the great stones of the ancient temple ruin, where they had left mills. eagerly the lads scanned the cleared place, then their eyes went over the ruin, but not a sign of a human being did they see in either place. glancing at the dial clock, jim spiraled in wide circles which included the two places, while bob searched vainly for a sign of the professor and his kidnapped band. "maybe we guessed wrong," jim said tensely. "let's drop down anyway," bob proposed. "reckon i'd better," austin agreed, but his heart was hammering against his ribs and his fingers were so cold he could hardly handle the stick. he shut off the engine, circled and finally they dropped near the opening lang and his men had forced them to enter. for a moment they waited, then jim released his safety belt, and prepared to hop out of the cock-pit. "i'm coming along," bob announced. "wish you'd stay here, buddy. if i have to run for it with some of those people, we might be mighty glad to get off quickly." "well, all right." bob slid into the pilot's seat. "i've got a hunch that martin must be crazy. wish you had some sort of gun." "second the motion, but i haven't. i'll pick up a club." austin dropped to the ground, hurried to the edge of the woods, paused long enough to arm himself with a stout club, then leaped on the log and a moment later was hidden from his buddy's sight as he disappeared into the passage. "gosh all hemlock, i'd rather be going along with him than sitting here," bob grumbled uneasily as he tried vainly to catch a glimpse of his step-brother. but, except for the swaying of the long vines which partially concealed the entrance, there was no sign that a living soul had entered the terrible passage. through caldwell's mind raced the memory of that awful trip with their arms bound and he felt as if he knew every inch of the route over logs, rocks, traps, streams, holes, snake dens--to bloody dam. he gasped, then he shook himself with grim determination. "nice sort of codfish i've developed into--with a back like a jelly fish." caldwell proceeded to upbraid himself roundly for his lack of courage, but the recollection of those white women back there in the settlement, surrounded by grim natives who knew how to read the white man's clock, and were even now watching the minutes tick away made him shiver apprehensively. when the last one passed, if the boys had not returned with at least some of the women and children, alive and unharmed, the fate of mrs. manwell, her kindly husband, the hardings, and any white men who appeared, was sealed. "if we do not get there on time they will be sure we sent for the soldiers," he said softly, and he glanced at the control board, but with an effort managed to restrain himself from looking at the time piece. he wondered dully what jim was doing, how far he had gone, and whether he was safe or had fallen a victim to some section of the passage with its numberless pitfalls. resolutely he searched the sky for a sign of another plane, but saw nothing, although once he thought he heard one. however, he attributed this to his over-wrought imagination. he considered starting the engine to keep it warm, then he remembered that the noise would drown any shouts or instructions jim might try to call to him. straining his ears, the boy tried to distinguish some sound, but only the noises of the desolate forest reached him. not even the song or chirp of a bird relieved the oppressiveness of his surroundings. cold fear clutched bob's heart like great icy fingers, and his teeth chattered, as his brain called up the horror of the position he was in. he thought again of the white women, waiting tight-lipped for their fate, whatever it might be; he thought of professor martin whose stubborness and determination to make the natives obey his orders had brought such difficulties, and this minute threatened the little band he had forced to follow him; then the british officer at the barracks whose wife was in gravest danger; and jim alone there in the passage. he shook himself vigorously, stretched his cramped legs, moved from side to side on his seat, and glanced about the spacious cabin which he prayed would soon be filled with the wives and children of the natives. he glanced across the clearing toward the ruin, and wondered what had happened to the indians they had seen around the place. his eyes sought the tiny pool with its trickling stream moving so quietly one could hardly tell it was there, and wished he dared hop out and drink of its cool water. his throat and lips were dry. from a distance bob thought again that he heard a plane, but it was faint and he could not find it anywhere in the sky, although he searched hard, in an effort to get his mind off this anxiety. he knew there were several mail and passenger routes between the two countries but he was far off their course, so it was not likely to be one of them. there wasn't a cloud, even a tiny one, in the whole sky, so every pilot going from south to north, or back, could follow his course as easily as if it were a green line in a new york subway passage. he sighed wearily, and wondered what time it was, but forced himself to keep his eyes off the clock. he feared lest the limited time allotted had passed. then, he sprang up, for far off he heard a muffled scream. it came from the forest and sounded as if someone were being tortured. again it came louder than before, and with mechanical fingers that flew over the buckles, he freed himself from his safety belt, leaped out of the cock-pit, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him to the entrance of the passage. chapter xii. the fight in the passage when jim ran into the passage, he was hoping against hope that this was the way the stubborn professor was coming with his captured party, and that they were not so far from the entrance that it would be impossible to get any of them back in time to save the lives of the white men and women held prisoners. glancing at his watch he noticed that the minutes had been ticking themselves away at an alarming speed. he took a moment to look at the ground and could easily see the foot prints made by the gang; his own and bob's showed especially plain in the soft spots, but he dared linger only long enough to assure himself that none of them led out. everyone went in, as he was going, which meant that, if martin was in that secret route, he had not as yet reached the hill. running as fast as he dared with the light of his small flash his heart beat anxiously, lest after all, his hunch had been a bad one and he could not find any of the natives. he blamed himself roundly for not taking a chance to get a message to the barracks warning captain seaman of the danger in the village, and urging him to send a force with all speed to rescue the party of white people. now, that it was almost too late, it seemed to the lad as if there were a dozen things he might have done, and that he had chosen the most foolhardy of them all; the one least likely to succeed. with his mind harping on this discouraging strain, his feet carried him swiftly on and on. he thought of bob waiting anxiously in the plane and was rather glad that his part of the task was not sitting still while the moments sped by. keeping a sharp lookout on all sides, especially under his feet, he proceeded and made up his mind that he would not go very far. surely the professor had sufficient time to be near the grade, and the boy calculated he must have come into the place by some branch route which the gang had missed as they were led by the reckless red and his dim illumination. five minutes passed, then suddenly austin's heart leaped hopefully, for he was positive that he heard muffled voices ahead of him. believing that the professor was more than half mad because of his ineffectual efforts to push the work of the expedition and make better looking progress which would place him permanently in command of the work, besides bring him honors when it was finished, jim restrained an impulse to shout to the party. martin was sure to resent the appearance of anyone who might attempt to interfere with his plans, and also, he was well armed, the natives had declared. with these points in mind he proceeded much more cautiously, and at last he reached a bend where the tunnel widened considerably, then narrowed as it led over a stream. the spot was familiar to jim and he recalled how difficult it had been for himself and his buddy to manage with their arms tied. but before he reached the bridge, he saw the secret way was well lighted ahead, then he heard a shrill scream and the rushing of feet, which seemed to be going away instead of coming toward him. quickening his pace, he moved close to the wall, shoving along and screening himself with the hanging vines which were thick at this point. again came the awful yell and the boy ran as hard as he could go. a moment more and jim was at the bridge, then he looked beyond to a lower plain and was astonished to see a man, crouched like an animal and running almost on all fours. his back was to the boy and from his lips came the piercing snarl which was enough to make anyone's blood run cold. standing, as if he were paralyzed with fear, was the tall, thin professor, his clothes bedraggled, his mouth open and his eyes staring hypnotized by the awful creature facing him. another cry, then the professor shrieked at the top of his lungs. behind him were huddled the little band of natives, mostly women and children, while the two burly fellows brought to assist in the kidnaping, faced about and ran off as fast as their legs would carry them. from a few of the children there came terrified whimpers, but most of the natives were quiet. the crouching man gave a shrill scream, mumbled something about his treasure, his riches, and then martin seemed to come to life. he backed away, started to turn, but caught his foot on an exposed root which would have sent him headlong, but the man in front leaped like a monkey, caught him by the front of his shirt, and proceeded to shake him as if he were a rat. the powerful hands drew the cloth tight and tighter, until martin's head dropped back, then mills, for there was no mistaking the identity of the crazy fellow, raised him high above his head, and smashed him to the ground, where he lay still. horrified, the lad stood, then suddenly he felt a hand on his arm and bob was beside him. "can we get them out?" he whispered. "i hope so," jim replied. just then one of the native women saw the flying buddies, and austin beckoned to her to come to him. she hesitated a moment, then, pushing her children ahead of her, she made her way around the murderer and his victim. mills calmly seated himself on the dead body, searched through the clothing until he found tobacco, and rolled himself a cigarette which he puffed indifferently. the one native woman reached the boy's side, then others cautiously followed, until finally they had all passed, and with thankful hearts, the buddies hurried them as fast as they could walk up the incline, across the level stretch, and finally out into the afternoon sunshine on the top of the hill. "well, what's this?" it was bradshaw who was awaiting them, and stared in wonder at the strange group. "help us get these people back to the settlement," jim said breathlessly. "there isn't a moment to lose, bradshaw. gee, i'm glad you came along." "wanted to have a look at your friend mills," bradshaw told them as he proceeded to help. "guess i missed the lad, for i didn't find him," he added. it took only a few minutes to tumble the majority of the natives in the bigger cabin, and three into the helicopter. the engines were started, and the planes raced in a circle, hovered in the air to learn where they were going. then jim set the course, and putting on all the power he dared, raced the big machine as she had never been raced before, through the heavens toward the settlement. they had gone a little over half way when the clock in the dial board announced that the time limit was up. austin verified it with his own watch, and bit his lips anxiously. he did not give up hope, but prayed that howard or don, or perhaps the doctor would be able to persuade the natives to give them a few minutes grace. he glanced at bob, whose lips were set, and his eyes scanned the route as far as he could see. finally, three minutes later he made out the winding river and soon could see the settlement. to his joy he noted that the little group were standing almost as they had been left, near the boat, with howard seated before his engine, and the white women and young people nearby, with their native guard. as they zoomed at top speed, the white men turned their faces upward. the engines were shut off, the two machines glided gracefully to the ground, the native passengers shouting gleefully to the members of their families. quickly the men who had been so determined on revenge, rushed forward and caught their loved ones in their arms. presently jim was out of the machine and he saw donald standing near him, a watch in his hand. "i find that you have half a minute to spare," he remarked. "yes?" "exactly. i held my watch, which is a new accurate time-piece, and while i did not object to dying when the three-quarters of an hour was up, i did object to such an unpleasant ending to the lives of my esteemed parents. it is possible, of course, that the hands stopped occasionally--barely possible," he grinned. "oh, i was blue when i saw how the time had passed," jim said. "expect you were. don't know that i should have cared to change places with you." then followed explanations from all concerned and unconcerned; bradshaw learned why he had been urged to nearly tear the wings off his plane, and when the danger was past, the natives awkwardly tried to thank the buddies by presenting them with gifts, while mrs. harding nearly went into hysterics, which the doctor hastened to bring her out of with a good shake. "buck up, buck up. where's martin?" he asked bob. "mills met him in the passage and killed him." the party looked sober. "twice you boys came through the black woods, but martin, who forced himself under the butterflies, met destruction before the change of the moon," said donald quietly. "that's right," jim nodded, "but it looks to me as if the curse of bloody dam was made so that fellows who aren't evil-doers may pass unharmed even through the black woods." "perhaps that is so," donald answered, then went on with a smile, "and perhaps a kindness rendered a hunted lad named yncicea and his uncle brought a blessing so great that against it the curse is not effective--" "perhaps," chuckled bob, then added softly, "i don't mind telling you that we're mighty happy at having met that lad at my uncle's farm." suddenly his mood changed. "when do we eat?" "there is food in the basket," mrs. seaman answered, "you boys must be hollow as drums." she made a brave attempt to shake off the horror of the hour through which she had just lived, and barbara harding came to her aid. "let's brace up," she urged. "we'll all feel better when we have had something to eat." "suppose we take the food and eat it on board the boat on the way home," mrs. harding suggested. "i feel as if i cannot leave this place too quickly." her face was white as if she had suffered a long illness, and her eyes rested upon her daughters, who were safe, but she dreaded remaining with them in the encampment where the white people were so greatly out-numbered by the natives. this plan was accepted by all of them, so they made hasty preparations to depart, while the natives, the more reasonable ones, realizing that their act might bring serious difficulties to the tribes, pitched in to help, and many of them ran to their own quarters to bring presents as peace offerings. "we feared our own women and children were in danger, or dead," one reminded mrs. seaman, who promptly held out her hand to them. "i understand," she said kindly. "you need have no further fear from professor martin. he brought about his own punishment and i am happy that your families are safe." the man bowed low before her. "we are your servants," he answered--but could say no more, for at the moment the air was filled with the thunder of many airplane motors racing nearer and nearer. the eyes of the flying buddies turned instantly to the sky and were astonished to see twelve tiny specks in a perfect v formation, racing without deviating an inch from their formation, high in the blue heavens. quickly the boy took out his handkerchief, broke a twig and tied the corners to make a flag. "fix yours the same way, buddy," he said crisply. the planes were growing at an amazing speed into huge shapes as their pilots crowded on every ounce of power. the boys wondered how the captain could have learned of the trouble, for as far as they knew no one had informed the soldiers, but here they were and his heart sang with thankfulness that they would find peace and quiet instead of death and destruction. "here you are." bob handed over his flag handkerchief, and jim ran with the improvised pair of signals, to an open space, while the natives stared. he marveled at the formation of the thundering machines, one of which he saw was a bomber, and at least two equipped with machine guns. they were swooping now almost to the bend in the river, so austin waggled a message to the pilots and hoped they would understand the scout code. "all o.k.; all o.k.;" he waggled and instantly the leader's nose shot up, his hand went to the side of his cock-pit and his men followed him in a steep climb, after which they zoomed high, circled, while jim went on talking to them with the flags. "everybody is safe. no one hurt. all o.k." the machines made two turns above their heads, then the engine of the leader's plane was throttled and he glided like a great bird to the ground, made an admirable three-point landing and stopped. instantly a man leaped out of the cock-pit and started forward. "what's the matter?" he demanded. "it's my husband, my husband," cried mrs. seaman and she ran to meet him. a moment he held her close, then braced his shoulders, and faced the others. "a native sent a message that the village had been attacked and you were all going to be burned to death," he gasped. "we might have been, but we are not," dr. manwell answered. "thank god you are safe, but, what was the idea?" the captain persisted. he had to shout because the planes were still racing near enough so that they too could swoop down if there was any sign of danger. "martin got a crazy idea that by kidnaping the natives' families he could force the men to push forward the work he was doing and enter sections of the forest which they feared." "great heavens, was he insane?" seaman exploded. "i should not be at all surprised," the doctor answered, then went on, "whatever ailed him, he has already paid the price of his folly. the natives thought that their wives and children had been killed or would never come out of the black woods, so they came back with other tribes, bent upon revenge. we can hardly blame them. they happened to find us all here; took possession of the weapons in camp, and before any of us realized the danger, they surrounded the women." seaman's lips were set in a tight line. "i was busy attending to the pilot who has a bad infection, so did not know what was happening until i heard my wife scream. we were all surrounded, then howard, who had our young american friends on a tour of inspection, appeared in the boat. fortunately the lads had bombs in their pockets--" "bombs--" "yes and more in the boat," the doctor answered emphatically, as if it was quite usual for american boys to go about with explosives. "the natives were reasonable and the buddies promised to bring the women and children back. they did, and all is well--" "thank heavens for that--" "let us all forget it, dear," mrs. seaman urged her husband. "the men were frantic with fear for their families, even as you were just a little while ago, and we cannot blame them for trying to retaliate. none of us was hurt, and now you find us quite safe." "surely," the captain agreed, then he saw bradshaw. "how did you happen to be here?" he asked. "i was looking for mills, saw the expedition plane instead, and hung about to learn what was doing. after that, i did pilot duty and turned the helicopter into a passenger plane," the canadian grinned cheerfully, then added, "i take it that further details of the exploit can be made later." "all right. now, doctor, how about that pilot--should he be taken to a hospital?" "i'll take him to my house and look after him a few days, if you have no objection. i do not believe that he is in danger, but it will be just as well if he has good care for the present." "suits me," answered captain seaman crisply, then he turned to his wife, "care to hop home with me, dear?" "i should like to," she smiled at him. "before we start i wish that you would assure the natives that you will not punish any of them." "of course," he agreed. he called some of the leaders together, and when they were assembled, he shook hands with everyone. speechmaking was out of the question because of the noise, and the tribesmen held up their hands as a sign that they were eternal friends. after that it was arranged that the doctor, his wife, donald and the invalid pilot should be taken back to town in the community's huge plane with the flying buddies, or one of them, at the stick. mrs. seaman was to have a place in her husband's machine, mrs. harding and her daughters would fly with bradshaw. presently all were ready except the captain, who paid a brief visit to the native's quarters, reassured them of his friendship and ate salt fish with them. when that ceremony was completed, they came with him to join his party. a bit later the planes were ready, the big one led off with its passengers and the sick man, bradshaw followed, and last came the officer's ship. they rose swiftly, the british planes circled about them, received their orders by signal lights flashed in colors, and fell in behind the others, while the officer again took the lead; heading in a bee line for home. jim was as excited as if he were a part of some grand maneuver and tried hard to keep properly in the formation with his huge plane, which must have looked a bit odd racing among the other slim, efficient planes of the british government. the boy glanced at his passengers, who seemed to have completely forgotten the dangers through which they had passed, and were thoroughly enjoying themselves and the trip. bob was, of course, beside his buddy, and the two exchanged delighted glances. austin wondered what his brother would say if it were not so noisy, but later, when they came down in the field's runway, the younger boy grinned widely. "i've had as grand a time as a bob-tailed cat with a kettle of fish," he announced. "wouldn't have missed it for a million." "what i want to know is where you boys got those bombs," the captain said as he hurried up to the machine. "if you find out, we'll pin a horseshoe on you," bob promised with a laugh. "didn't you have a blooming thing?" "surely," jim replied gravely. "my fists and an electric light flash." "come along in--i want the rest of the story," the officer chuckled. "and, like the little boy by the cookie jar, you won't be happy until you get it," said bob. just then a pair of orderlies appeared with a stretcher, the pilot was carefully lifted out and taken off toward the doctor's home. "i shall send congratulations to mr. and mrs. austin on the splendid conduct of their sons--" dr. manwell began, but jim cut him short. "when dad hears of donald's trick with his watch, sir, he will keep the wires buzzing congratulating you and mrs. manwell. we were over four minutes late--" jim said. bob laughed and changed the subject abruptly. "i say, i'm as hungry as a flock of lions. when do we eat?" he demanded, and the party started quickly for the house and the larder, lest the young fellow devour them all then and there. the air mystery of isle la motte by e. j. craine author of cap rock flyers, the sky buddies secrets of cuzko, flying to amy-ran fastness, etc. the world syndicate publishing co. cleveland, ohio new york, n. y. made in u. s. a. copyright by the world syndicate publishing company press of the commercial bookbinding co. cleveland ------------------------------------------------------------------------ this is the first book of the sky buddies, jim austin and bob caldwell and their plane, properly christened "her highness" in which they encounter many thrilling and exciting adventures. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ contents i the step-brothers ii the three mysteries iii thundering waters iv a mysterious find v a discovery vi a capture vii a tail spin viii ablaze ix the mail must go through x danger xi the cry for help xii detectives ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the air mystery of isle la motte i the step-brothers "i say now, why are you fellows landing here?" the canadian mounted policeman reined in his horse as close to the cock-pit as he could get, and eyed the two occupants in the plane, which had just landed in the southern part of the province of quebec. "you want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" the blue-eyed youth in the passenger's seat drawled in an accent that could belong to only one part of the world, texas. "if you're telling it today," the mounty replied. "if not, we'll get it later." "very true, but you shall have it pronto. from an elevation of three thousand feet we observed you, so we came down to find out if you are riding a real horse, or merely an imitation--" "it isn't a bad plug," interrupted the pilot, whose eyes were blue and they rested with approval on the animal that had aroused their curiosity. "but, if you ever visit cap bock, we'll fork you on something superior--we have a pinto that can--" "now, look here, i'm not fooling. you hop out of that and give an account of yourselves," the mounty ordered firmly. "yes, sir." the two obeyed willingly enough and the man dismounted. when they took off their helmets he saw they were boys, both had tow heads, and they didn't look at all formidable or like a pair he might have to escort to headquarters. however, duty was duty and he wasn't making any snap judgments or taking needless risks. there was too much smuggling, to say nothing of illegal immigration across the border, and orders were strict. it was not at all outside possibility that a couple of perfectly innocent looking youths might be the tools or employees of some powerful gang. the fact that they dropped out of the skies in an airplane was in itself suspicious. "i'm jim austin, age sixteen years and two months. this is my step-brother, bob caldwell, fifteen years and eleven months," the grey-eyed boy announced gravely. "proud to meet you, sir," bob bowed, then added. "i'm almost as old as he is." "well, go ahead, get along with the story," the mounty put in more pleasantly. his horse had walked close to the boy and was nosing about the pockets of his aviation coat. soberly bob drew forth an apple, broke it in half and fed the big fellow. "we were both born with a complete pair of parents on ranches, adjoining ones, along cap rock in texas, but circumstances, over which we had no control removed my mother and bob's father," jim explained. "when i was twelve i discovered that my father was spending a lot of time on the caldwell ranch and i lay awake nights wondering why a texas gentleman couldn't shoot a lady." "and i planned to set a trap for mr. austin and fill him full of lead," bob offered. "give me your apple, jim." jim handed it over without hesitation and it was fed to the horse. "then, one day, i happened along by the water-hole and found some greasers knocking the stuffing out of bob. we beat them off, and after that, i went to the caldwell's. it was a nice, clean house and mrs. caldwell gave me a square meal, woman cooked." "my mother is the best cook in texas," bob offered softly. "yes. that night i started to follow my father and i ran into bob. we rode about and talked it over. bob's mother wanted him to go to school." "and bob didn't want to," the officer suggested solemnly. "oh yes i did," bob replied quickly. "but a mother, ranch, a string of horses and a pair of blue cranes, is a responsibility," jim offered, "then, we rode to the house--" "and found his father eating a piece of chocolate cake that i didn't know anything about," said bob. "and he'd eaten the last crumbs," jim added. "then, we told them they were a pair of boobs. a week later the knots were tied that united the ranches and made us step-brothers. we were all at our place--" "and bob was to be sent to school?" "sure, but his mother said i had to go too," jim grinned. "not so good." "it was not so bad because his father said that when we finished the course, it was four years, we could have an airplane, he'd see that we were properly instructed in its chauffeuring. we were both hipped about flying," bob answered. "so we went to the school, did the work in two years and a half, learned piloting on the side, then went home and made the old man keep his word. meet her highness," he waved his hand toward the plane which was a beauty. "i'm glad to," the officer grinned broadly. "now, tell me what you are doing here." "you haven't told us anything about yourself," bob reminded him. "later." "bob's mother has a sister, mrs. norman fenton, and she lives on a farm on north hero island. in the summer time she takes tourists and calls the house, stumble inn. we came to see a bit of the world and to pay her a visit. arrived yesterday and this morning took a hop over british soil. we like it even if it isn't texas." "that's generous of you. i'm sergeant bradshaw on border patrol duty, the horse is patrick. he was imported from one of the western states, don't know which one, but he was a bloody beast when he was wished on me--" "somebody had mistreated him," bob announced. "he's got a scar on his leg. looks like a short-hitch hobble that cut him." the boy stooped over, took the hoof in his hand and pat submitted amiably to the inspection. "reckon it was done with raw-hide," jim declared. his fingers gently manipulated the old wound and pat turned his nose about to sniff at the youngster. "pat doesn't usually make friends with strangers. you must have a way with horses," sergeant bradshaw told them. "we came out of the sky to meet him," bob reminded the man. "dad told us before we started north to make our trip as profitable as possible by learning all we can. it's against our principles to ask impudent questions, but we should like to know what you have to do," jim announced and bradshaw laughed heartily. "i have to patrol this territory, watch the roads carefully, and every place where smugglers of any kind might try to break across the border. there has been no end of bootlegging--" "thought canada was all wet," bob grinned. "the provinces have local option and quebec went dry, so we have to enforce it, but the rum runners are the least of our troubles, although they are bad enough. there's a lot of objectionable people sneaking in to both this country and yours, besides drugs and jewelry. this is a pretty wild section and it keeps pat and me on our toes." "noticed from the air it isn't much settled. didn't know there is so much open space outside of texas," bob said. "i should think you'd have a plane and you could see what's going on a lot better. with the glasses we knew all about what you looked like before we came down," jim remarked. "there are some planes on the job, but men and horses are necessary--mighty necessary," the sergeant answered. "the airmen can tell us if anything is moving that is suspicious, but we have to be down here to get it, unless the outlaws are taking the air." "anything special afoot now," jim inquired. "you bet there is." both boys looked at him eagerly. "our men and yours have been working for months trying to get something on a gang that has put it over every time. if we don't make a killing soon, i can see where there will be a general shaking up in both forces and a lot of us will be sent to hoe hay." the officer spoke seriously and the boys listened with keen interest. "tell you what, we didn't think we'd find anything very exciting so far north, but i reckon we'll ooze around here and see what we can pick up. maybe we can help you. you'll recognize her highness if you see her sailing through again, and if we want to communicate with you, we'll circle around and drop you a message if we can't land. how will you let us know if you receive it o.k.?" "that's fine of you, jim, but this is a man-sized job. i appreciate your offer no end, old top, but your aunt and uncle, to say nothing of your mother and father would come down on me hard if i agreed to let you risk your necks--" "the parents are sensible people, we picked them out for that very reason. they both told us to have a good time, and helping you looks to me like a good time--" "besides, what would we risk? all we could do is report to you if we see anything, and like as not what we see won't be much help because we're so green. but, if we did see anything real--because we are such a pair of nuts we might put something over for you. we elect ourselves, you're in the minority, so, if you hear her highness, listen, stop, watch. come on, buddy, your aunt was making cherry pies when we left and if we don't get a move on, some cadaverous tourist is likely to come along and eat every snitch of it. they are a greedy lot." "isn't your aunt the woman who raises such a flock of turkeys?" the sergeant asked. "sure, she used to. she has them on isle la motte, but last year they didn't do so well, and she said last night that she isn't having much luck this spring. it's tough because there is money in turkeys if you can ever make them grow up," bob replied. "i drove down there once and got a couple for my family. they were grand birds. come on, pat." "you haven't told us yet how we will know that you get our message," jim reminded him. "i'll wave my hat, and if i want you to come down, i'll keep it off my head, but you fellows watch your step and don't go doing anything that will get us all into the cooler," he warned. "we'll look out." they both rubbed pat's nose, then climbed into the cock-pit of her highness, this time bob took the pilot's seat. "need any help?" "not a bit, thanks." bob opened her up, the engine bellowed, the propeller spun and her highness raced forward, lifted her nose as if sniffing the air, then climbed into it. jim waved at the man, who wondered if he had not better telephone the fentons and tell them to keep the boys out of any trouble. on second thought, he decided against it. after all, their own air men were watching from above, and as they were every one of them experts at the game, they would report things long before the boys could possibly have their suspicions aroused. it would be too bad to spoil their fun, and if they would enjoy keeping an eye on the world, let them do it. they appeared to be a pretty decent pair of kids. "you almost flew off with them, old top," he remarked, giving the horse an affectionate pat, "and only yesterday you bared your teeth and scared the wits, what little he has, out of that canuck. you _are_ a discriminating old cuss." he leaped into the saddle, but he waited to make a note of the meeting of the boys and their account of themselves. "even at that they may be stringing me," he remarked a bit uneasily as he glanced toward the fast disappearing speck in the sky, but he dismissed the thought immediately for he felt confident the step-brothers were entirely trustworthy. in the meantime her highness climbed in swift spirals for three thousand feet, then bob leveled her off, set his course and started toward north hero, which is one of many delightful bits of land in lake champlain. presently the boys could see a tiny shack with the british flag floating on one side, the stars and stripes on the other. "they look like good pals," jim said into the speaking tube, and bob glanced over the side. "great pair," he responded. "not like the border at texas." he took a good look at the huge lake that stretched out restlessly between new york state and vermont. "we could use that down our way." "let's send some of it to dad. remember how long it is?" "one hundred and twenty-eight miles." "bigger than the two ranches together." they flew on until they were flying over the water, and jim took the glasses to get a better view of the historic lake. he picked out rouse's point, then on to the picturesque sections of land whose rocky coasts had defied the pounding waves. there was isle la motte, with it's farms at one end and long wooded stretch at the other where the fenton's kept their turkeys. beyond, united by a long bridge was north hero island, cut up into small homesteads. there were acres of uncultivated land which was now blue and yellow with flowers, groves of cedar, elm and ash, to say nothing of delicate green spots that the boys knew were gardens or meadows. further on was grand isle, also connected by a bridge, but they were not going that far. "let's hop down on the turkey end of la motte," jim suggested, and bob nodded. he shut the engine off, let her highness glide, and circled for a landing place. "get on the water." young caldwell kicked forward a lever which shifted landing wheels to water floats, selected a smooth cove, and in a moment they lighted, splashed and stopped. "hey you, get the heck out of here. get out!" the voice came from back of a fallen tree, and in a moment a huge man whose face was ugly with anger, walked along the dead bole and shook his fist at them. "get out. you ain't no business around here." "we just dropped in to have a look at the turkeys," bob told him. "we're--" but jim stepped on his foot. "what's the matter?" he broke in quickly. "we're not going to hurt anything. we've never seen a turkey farm and we heard that you have a fine one here." "you're right you're not going to hurt anything, and you're not going to see this turkey farm. hear! now, get out! you're on private property and i'll have the law on you! don't you see them signs, 'no trespassing', right there!" he pointed to a large sign hung between two trees and it plainly warned off inquisitive, or interested spectators. "go on, now, get out." bob glanced questioningly at his step-brother. he had started to tell the caretaker who they were, feeling sure that the information would naturally assure them a very different reception, but for some reason or other, the older boy wanted to withhold the fact. just then the man broke off a dry branch, raised it over his head, and prepared to throw it. "move out of his range," jim said tensely. "he might land that in our propeller or tail." bob sent her highness scurrying over the water and the stick fell harmlessly behind the plane. "the ornery old cuss," bob growled at the indignity. he whirled the plane about, held her nose low, and set the propeller racing. instantly it kicked up a spray of water that shot out on all sides, and before the man could move, he was drenched to the skin. "confound your hides," he bellowed, but her highness was circling away, then she lifted, climbed swiftly and started homeward. bob taxied her low across the two miles of water, and brought her down close to the boat pier, where she "rode at anchor." "boys, dinner's ready." mrs. fenton, a typical, tall, slender vermont woman, came out onto the back veranda of the old house. "so are we," bob shouted. the plane made secure, they raced around the curve, across the wide, sloping lawn, up the high stairs, and into the living-room. "there's basins outside to wash up," mrs. fenton told them, and soon they were splashing the cold water over their faces, and lathering their hands with the cake of home-made soap. "well, you lads get a good look at vermont?" mr. fenton joined them at his own basin. he too was tall and slender, with kindly grey eyes, and a broad smile. although they had never seen him before until their arrival twenty-four hours earlier, they both liked him enormously. "corking. she's some state, uncle norman!" bob answered from behind the roller towel. "she's got a lot of her under water," jim added. "expect you'd like some of that in texas." "surely could use it. cracky, some of those hot spots would seep it up like a sponge." "we could spare a good deal of it," mr. fenton told them. "especially when it's high." "does it get much higher than it is now?" jim asked. "it has swelled up fifteen feet more, then it does some flooding, but that doesn't happen often, not so far north, but we get plenty. well, come on in. hope you didn't leave your appetites in the sky." "we did not." "i will take the milk now, sir." the boys turned quickly at the voice, which was deep and musical, and saw a tall, powerfully built man, whose skin and eyes were dark. he wore the usual overalls, a tan shirt open at the throat, and carried himself more like a person of importance than a working man or a farmer. "all right, corso. here it is waiting for you." mr. fenton handed down a covered pail. "i thank you, sir," corso replied with dignity. "your nephew is doing an interesting job on that mud hole. the boy is a good worker." "he is learning. we thank you." the man accepted the pail of milk and walked away swiftly. the boys noted that he was amazingly light on his feet for a man of his size. "is he a vermonter, uncle norman?" bob asked as they made they way to the dining room where the table would have groaned if it had not been accustomed to such a bounteous load. "no, he isn't. i really don't know where he comes from, bob, and my guess is spain, although i'm probably miles off on that. he and his young nephew, a boy about thirteen, or perhaps a little older, rented a shack a mile or so up the shore; they paid several months in advance. seem to spend their time walking, or on the lake, and i believe i'm about the only person, on north hero island corso talks with, and he doesn't say very much to me. i've seen the boy, of course, but i don't know if he can speak english or not, i've never heard him." "he's a nice looking boy," mrs. fenton put in. "ever since they came your aunt has longed to get her motherly hands on him," mr. fenton laughed. "he needs a woman to look after him, see that he gets proper food and plenty of it. he's as thin as a stick, and i know he was sick this spring. i did make corso take some puddings and jellies to him," she announced. "they sound like an interesting pair," jim remarked. "well, they are, but they mind their own business, and we vermonters mind ours. how about it, light meat or dark, jim?" "dark, please." "what is the boy doing with the mud hole?" bob wanted to know, for a mud hole didn't sound very promising. "i don't know what it will be like when he gets finished but i'm keen to see. it's a strip about two and a half acres wide, and five long, that has always been a dead loss for cultivation. it comes between my alfalfa meadow and the garden; dips down low and toward the middle is quite a hole. the place catches all the rain and hangs on to it all through the hottest months. i had an expert here to drain it several years ago, he sunk some pipes, and although he did get the water off, more came back inside of a few weeks, and it was full after the first rain storm. the land is very fertile, and if i could use it, i would raise bumper crops." "shame you can't." "yes, it is. corso came to me early this spring, some weeks ago, and asked if i would rent it to him, and permit him to dig and do anything he wanted to with it. he assured me he would do it no harm, nor the surrounding patches. i told him it wasn't good for anything, but he seemed to want it, so i let him have it. he and the boy spend a great deal of time there, and they have hauled a lot of rocks from the shore. you probably noticed the edge of the lake, except around the cliffs, is all small flat stones, not very brittle, but not so soft as soap-stone." "sure, we were looking at them last night. some have pink and white streaks, like marble, and are pretty. i'd like to send a box to mom for the garden walks. she'd be pleased to pieces to have them." "they have taken several loads of them and some very large stones. after dinner you might walk over and see what you make out of the work so far. i can't make head or tail of it. a few days ago they planted corn, right in the mud, and in each hole they put a minnow they scooped out of the lake." "why put fish in, do they expect to raise sardines?" jim laughed. "can't say," mr. fenton answered. "it's some heathen notion i know." mrs. fenton announced positively. "are you getting enough to eat, bob?" ii the three mysteries "i say, uncle norman, you surely have a crab of a man to look after your turkeys," bob remarked when the noonday meal was nearly finished, and the boy suddenly recalled their very unwelcome reception on isle la motte. "a crab?" "i'll tell the herd he is the prize long horn for meanness," jim added emphatically. "my goodness, boys, what on earth did he do?" mrs. fenton asked soberly, as if she could hardly believe her ears. "he wouldn't let us near the place," bob explained, then went on with an account of their effort to see the turkey farm. "hezzy's all right, boys. you didn't tell him who you were." "no, we didn't, but great snakes, about everybody on the three islands seemed to know we were coming. didn't seem reasonable that this fellow did not have an idea who we were," jim declared. "of course, airplane visitors are not common and the news of your arriving from texas did spread, but it's possible hezzy didn't hear of it," mrs. fenton told them. "you see, boys, he's been having quite a peck of trouble. last year they hatched a big flock of birds, but before they were half grown, a lot of them were stolen. we know they didn't die--only a few of them--and there is no way for them to have wandered off. their wings are clipped as soon as they are big enough to get any height, and turkeys do not fly very high or far, anyway. some one, or some band of thieves must have made away with them. hezzy is hired to raise them, i haven't time to and look after the farm, and he takes real pride in having a big flock. some of the young ones have disappeared already and i expect he's keeping a mighty close watch to save as many as he can. they bring a good price and last year was the first season we didn't realize a profit on them." "any idea where they go?" "no, we haven't, but it must be outsiders. probably some tourists discovered the old farm tucked away there in the woods, and let it be known, or came back themselves. we have three watchmen, and now one of them sits up all night, but it hasn't done much good," mr. fenton answered. "sure hezzy isn't putting his own brand on them?" jim suggested. "my goodness sakes alive, child, don't say anything like that. i wouldn't have anyone hear you for the world," aunt belle said anxiously. "hezzy is too honest for his own good, really. he wouldn't take a bent pin that didn't belong to him. i've known him since i was a boy. he's a fine poultry man and absolutely reliable. keeps his records as accurate as can be. there isn't a cent's worth he doesn't give a detailed account of every week," mr. fenton supplemented. "i didn't mean to cast reflections on his honesty, but he was such a bear, it just occurred to me he might be feathering his own nest with your turkeys," jim said. "oh, dear me, don't say it again. why, i should be so distressed to have it get out--" "we won't breath it, aunt belle," bob promised. "i'll take you over sometime and you can see the place. i ordered a pair of good watchdogs to help guard it. they should be here in a day or so," mr. fenton said, then added. "well, if you want to go out and inspect what's being done on the mud hole, come along." "perhaps they could eat another piece of pie, norman." "no, we couldn't, not a sliver," bob insisted. "much to our regret," jim grinned. "very well," aunt belle agreed. the two boys followed mr. fenton out of the front door, down the flower lined path under a grove of huge maples, across the road onto the farm proper, past the barns, around the vegetable garden and then he stopped and made a gesture. "here it is." they saw the land, much as he had described it, the alfalfa meadow rising gently on the further side, and between them was a long pond of still water which was very dirty. "some hole," jim nodded. they walked on, picking their way until they saw a boy at work, and they stood quietly watching him. he did not realize they were there and went on with his task quite as if he was alone on the island. "what the heck is he doing?" bob whispered. the boy had some odd sort of implement, the handles of which he grasped in both hands, stood it upright, then jumped, his feet landing in the middle; driving the queer tool deep into the ground. then he stepped off, bent the handles as far as they would go, and raised the earth. "i think it is some sort of shovel, or plow," mr. fenton told them, "but i never saw anything like it. listen and you'll hear him sing, it's a kind of a chant." the step-brothers listened and in a moment they could hear, but the words and melody were unfamiliar. as the youngster straightened up, they could see that he was lithe, his skin was dark like his uncle's, and his heavy hair, which was quite long for a boy's, waved in the breeze. "gosh, he looks a little like an indian, a good one," jim remarked. "will he mind if we go closer?" "no, but i wouldn't pay too much attention to him," mr. fenton advised. "i'll go about my job and you amuse yourselves." he left them, and the boys proceeded to where the young farmer, or whatever he was, was engaged. they marveled at the speed with which he turned over the earth and before they were very close they saw that he was making some kind of trench. at the nearest end the work seemed to be finished, and then they could tell that he was making a terrace along the edge of the alfalfa plot. about half way down he had taken some very large rocks, fitted them with great nicety, filled in the crevices with smaller stones, filled in the space toward the hill with earth, and above the dark soil poked two rows of tiny green shoots of young corn. "gosh, he's planting as he gets the land ready. great job, isn't it?" bob whispered and his step-brother nodded. presently they came up to the boy. when their shadows fell across his plow, he glanced up quickly and sprang back. they grinned cheerfully to let him know they were friendly, and jim pointed to the new terrace. "fine," he declared. the boy smiled, his eyes lost some of the terror which had leaped into them, and his body relaxed. he eyed them for a moment, then motioning with one hand, he led them back to the other side where he showed them a narrow trench. with one scoop of his shovel he removed the earth that still held the water as a dam, and it started to tumble through and race off toward the road, where it would be carried away into the lake. for several minutes they watched, and then they glanced at the useless bog. "cracky," bob shouted with admiration. "some irrigator. look, it's draining off." sure enough, the long strip was getting dry around the edges, and promised to be emptied inside of an hour. "if it stays dry, uncle norman will be tickled pink. say, jim, what do you suppose he is?" "search me," jim responded. "seems as if i've got a kind of hazy idea of reading something about some old race or other using plows like that," bob remarked. "me too. maybe it was the egyptians." "maybe, but holy hoofs, what's this kid doing it for?" "as i said before, my esteemed step-brother, you are at liberty to search me thoroughly, but if you find anything, you have to let me in on it," jim laughed. the boy watched them a few minutes longer, then picking up his tool, he hurried back to his work. "you know, jim, we thought this neck of the woods was going to be dull as ditch-water, but i've got a hunch that if we stick around we may be able to crowd some real excitement into our visit. i'm dying to know who this kid is and where he came from, mystery number one; i'd like to do some flying about isle la motte and perhaps we can see something that will solve mystery number two--what's happening to uncle norman's turkeys--" "i'd like to do some observing and see if we can't get a line on that gang that is giving friend bradshaw such deep furrows between his handsome eyes," jim laughed. "me too, but gosh all hemlock, wouldn't dad kid the life out of us if he knew we are out to help the little old world!" "not only dad, but the whole shooting match on the ranch. tell you what, aunt belle and uncle fent said we could stay as long as we like, and they meant it, even if we are boys. let's organize a secret--s-e-c-r-e-t--mind you, detecting bureau, or what ever it is, and stay until we solve the three mysteries!" bob proposed. "i'm on. this end of the world doesn't look so bad to me. we'll let the folks know we're taking root for a while, the three of us, that includes her highness. we'll keep on the job until we win, or we have to admit we're licked." bob held out his hand and the agreement was made, without further discussion. "we'll have to explain to her highness," the younger boy declared. "sure thing. she'll be disappointed unless there's a lot of air work to it, and i have a hunch there will be." "oh, boys--" "yes aunt belle," bob shouted. "do you know where your uncle is working?" mrs. fenton called from the roadway. "there's a telephone message for him." "we'll find him for you," jim promised. they hurried off in the direction mr. fenton had taken when he left them and soon the sound of a hammer ringing in the distance informed them they were on the right trail. a moment later they could see the man repairing a place in the rail fence that bounded the pasture. "uncle norman, you're wanted on the telephone," bob roared. "all right, coming," the man waved, and dropping his work, came as fast as his long legs could carry him. "guess you're party's holding the line," jim volunteered. "they don't mind that around here," mr. fenton replied. he went ahead and the boys followed more leisurely. "this certainly is a good looking spot. no wonder the early pioneers settled in rock-bound vermont, but, gosh, what a fight they had to put up to get a living out of those rocks," bob remarked as his eyes roamed admiringly over the green hills, across the blue water, on to the distant mountains. "it isn't a rich state yet, but it has produced some fine men. real rip-snorters, rearin' to go," jim added. by that time they had reached the "hole" and could see the strange boy working industriously at his terrace. "you know, bob, we want to be kind of careful because we don't want to do any butting-in on that kid. maybe, far as he's concerned, we had better mind our own business." "reckon you're right, but let's try to make friends with him," bob suggested, and that was passed without a dissenting vote. "oh boys." "here," bob shouted to his uncle. "how long would it take you to get me to burlington?" the man asked as he came up to them. "less than an hour," bob answered. "would it be too much trouble for you to take me?" "not one bit," jim assured him. "ever been up in a plane, sir?" "no, i haven't," the man admitted. "do you get dizzy easily, that is, does it make you sick to your stomach when you get on a high place and look over?" "oh no. i never get dizzy." "that's all right then." "we can strap you in," bob offered. "will the plane carry three of us?" the man asked. "sure. there's an emergency seat in the back, and she'll carry some freight besides," jim explained. "our dad didn't leave anything undone when he bought that plane, and besides, we helped in the selection. she'll do anything except herd sheep," bob said proudly. "we have parachutes and everything. maybe you'd like to try one of them out," jim offered. "not this time unless i have to," mr. fenton laughed. "a chap called me up on important business, and if i can get it attended to today, it will be a big help." "well then, get a heavy coat on. we have an extra helmet--" "shall i need rubbers?" "if you intend to come down with the parachute over the lake," bob answered. "it's mighty nice of you--" "we'll get her highness in ship shape." "i'll be with you in five minutes," mr. fenton promised, and he was. he joined his young guests at the pier, bob was already in the back, while jim was fussing about the pilot's seat. mr. fenton was given the extra helmet and a pair of goggles, both of which he adjusted when he took his place after he had submitted to having the parachute and safety strap buckled properly. "all o.k.?" jim shouted finally. mrs. fenton had come down to see her husband start on his first flight, and she watched a bit nervously. "i don't know about those contraptions, norman," she said anxiously. "they're great inventions, belle. when we get rich, we'll have one," he promised her. "i'd rather have a good horse and buggy," she retorted. "a horse is all right, aunt belle. he never loses an engine or gets his wings ripped off," bob shouted, then added. "all set in the rumble seat, jim!" "right-you-are." jim glanced at their passenger, assured himself that he was secure, then, opened her up, and they sped forward over the water, which was smooth as a sheet of glass. mr. fenton's lips moved, but whatever he said was lost in the roar of the motor. he grabbed the edge of the seat as her highness lifted her nose eagerly, and he hung on grimly as she spiraled in wide curves over the lake. at a thousand feet the young pilot leveled her off and they roared swiftly south toward the state's largest city. after about ten minutes, mr. fenton sat less rigidly. jim picked up the speaking tube and handed the end to him, making motions how to use it. "how do you like flying, uncle norman?" mr. fenton nodded and smiled. he didn't feel quite equal to carrying on a conversation yet. jim followed the lake, and as they were approaching their destination, he spoke again to his passenger. "if we land on the water will that be all right for you, can you get to your place easily?" "yes, the office isn't far from the east shore." mr. fenton felt like an old timer now. he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "ten minutes more," jim told him, and he nodded. presently the pilot shut off the engine, and the man looked startled at the sudden silence. he glanced at jim, who grinned reassuringly as he kicked the rudder about and brought her highness into a long glide toward the spot he had selected for the landing. the plane touched the water lightly, sped along a few yards and stopped beside a long pier. "are we here?" mr. fenton asked. "yes sir. how do you like air traveling?" "it's wonderful, but i did almost get heart failure when the motor stopped," he admitted. "begun to wish you had brought your rubbers?" "my rubbers and a boat." "is this place near enough?" "plenty." jim helped him out of the straps, and by that time bob stepped over the fuselage to give a hand. "glad you didn't try to jump over, uncle norman. how are your air-legs, wobbly?" "a bit cramped." he stretched them both, found they would work, and in a moment he mounted the boat pier. "i don't expect to be more than half an hour." "we'll wait here," jim promised. "oh, look at the hydroplane," shouted a small boy on the shore. "they are calling her highness names," bob scowled. "she's a hydroplane for the minute," jim replied. "let's taxi around the water." "it's getting kind of rough. up at north hero it was as smooth as a sheet," bob answered. "wish i knew more about water and its tricks." "i think we're going to have a blow," jim speculated as her highness went rocking over the waves. "there are some black clouds over south and west and they sure do look as if they are in a hurry. we'll have them on our tail as we go back. got plenty of gas? i read that in some places lake champlain is three hundred feet deep, and it's wet clear to the bottom," said bob. "there's an extra tank besides what is in the bus. guess i'll feed her up. somehow, i think a nice texas desert is pleasanter to land on than water." jim busied himself with the task and bob helped look things over. "why don't you go back above the shore?" he suggested. "we have to land on the cove when we get home, so why switch gears. if there's time this evening, we might locate a place to land on the farm, but we'll have to ask your uncle about that or we'll be coming down on some field he's planted." "o.k. with me." "whoooo boys," mr. fenton shouted from the pier where he was standing with a group of men and an army of small boys who had come to see the take off. "an audience. do your prettiest, your highness," bob urged the plane as his step-brother brought it around in fancy style. "it isn't every farmer who has a couple of pilots to bring him to town in a private plane, free of charge," one of the men joked. "certainly looks like the farmers are getting some relief," another added. "they are going up in the air about it." "it's time we did something," mr. fenton responded. "shall i get in now, jim?" "sure." bob gave him a hand, the straps were re-adjusted, and the younger boy crawled back to his seat, attached his own parachute, and was finally ready. by that time the shore was lined with spectators. "all ready. contact," caldwell shouted. jim opened the throttle, and they were off in a jiffy. they could see the people waving and cheering as they came about a few feet above the lake. then her highness zoomed, high and handsome and the town was left behind. because of the rising wind the return trip was not so smooth. they ran into bumps and pockets, and the force of the approaching storm drove hard behind them, pushing them forward swiftly. jim zoomed to ten thousand feet in an effort to get above the troubled air, but even at that altitude there was no improvement. occasionally he took a second to glance at his passenger, but mr. fenton was facing it bravely, although his eyes showed that he was a bit anxious. the young pilot took the speaking tube, signaled to the boy in the back, and almost instantly there was a red flash on the dial board, which meant bob was paying attention. "better put your cover over, old man." "got her up," came the answer. "i'm snug as a bug in a rug. want to know the readings back here?" "yes." bob read them off while jim compared them with the records on his own control board, and when it was finished, he called. "all correct." "you covered up?" bob demanded. "going to fix it now. so long. meet you on the ice." "you needn't. i'm not a skate," came the chuckling response. then jim drew the storm cover over the cock-pit, switched on extra lights, and the plane raced forward, guided entirely by compass, and the sensitive instruments which kept him fully informed as to how high they were and how fast they were going. the coming of the storm suddenly hit them with a bang and the young fellow fought with the controls to keep her highness balanced. glancing through the tiny window he was startled to see that it was pitch dark, and he had to look at his watch to be sure that night was still several hours away. "some storm," he remarked to mr. fenton, who answered courageously. "lake champlain is noted for them. they are pretty tempestuous at times and this looks like a rip-snorter." iii thundering waters as the sturdy little plane tore along through the thick blackness a deluge of water hit her suddenly with such force it might have been a cloud burst and she staggered under the fury of the impact. she wobbled, side-slipped, twisted and dipped with the strength of the storm beating her mercilessly every inch of the way, and the gale at her tail spun her forward like a leaf torn from a branch. above the roar of the engine and the shriek of the wind through the wires, came the threatening boom of the lake as its mighty waves smashed against the rock-bound shore. tensely jim sat, his eyes watching the dials in front of him, his hands and feet ready for instant action. it was a struggle to keep her righted and the boy zoomed her to fifteen thousand feet in an effort to get above the ceiling of the tempest. but he only climbed into greater trouble, and after a resounding crash of thunder, the sky was split in a thousand ways by flashes of forked lightning. quickly he nosed her down, eyes on the directional compass, but keeping their course was out of the question. they were being blown miles out of the way and he hoped they would not go far enough east to land them somewhere in the mountains. he had not an instant to glance at his passenger, but once or twice his hand came in contact with mr. fenton, and the man was sitting braced for all he was worth. another flash of lightning showed their faces, grim and white. the rain continued to pelt them, and finally jim calculated that they had traveled in a northerly direction. allowing for the wind that had driven them steadily, he turned her highness' nose about in an effort to reach their destination, and the frail little air-craft was almost rolled over. in jim's mind was a vision of champlain and he debated the advisability of shifting the landing gears from the floats to the wheels, but he decided to keep the former in place. he knew so little about the country, and where it was safe to land. in the blackness which enveloped them he could not hope to come down without a very serious smash-up. with bob in the back and mr. fenton beside him, it was too great a risk to take. then he saw the man pick up the speaking-tube, so he prepared to listen. "anything i can do to help?" was the question. jim shook his head. "we ought to be near your place but i don't know where to go down. is the water very rough?" he asked. "yes. the waves will be high and now they are driving from the southeast and will be hitting our side of the island. during a storm like this, boats have to be put under cover or they get beaten to splinters," mr. fenton answered. "thanks," said jim. the prospect wasn't any too cheerful. although it was still raining, he shoved back the protecting cover and tried to peer through the darkness. he could hardly see his hand before his face, but he waited, until suddenly, an almost blinding flash of lightning revealed the world. just ahead of them were farms and patches of thickly wooded sections. the boy saw small houses, their windows lighted as if it were late at night. low growing things, vines and shrubs were bent to the ground. the trees bowed and groaned in the throes of the storm. some of the branches, unable to withstand the strain, were being ripped off and hurled through space. beneath the racing plane the black waters of champlain were whipped into giant rollers, and along their edges white-caps foamed ghastly yellow in the weird light. it was all shut out in a fraction of a minute, and jim zoomed higher to get out of harm's way. "we're about five miles north of our place," mr. fenton told him, and the young fellow grinned with relief. it was some comfort to know where they were. grimly he fought to bring her highness to face the storm. feeding the engine all she could carry he battled to get south, but it was a hard struggle, like shoving against an immovable, impenetrable wall. it seemed as if the plane barely moved forward, but her propeller screwed valiantly, and slowly they gained against the wind, but it drove them east. "any rocks or islands near?" jim asked. "gull rock, two miles directly east, and fisher's island. that's a couple of miles long. if you can head into the southern point of our cove, that is protected somewhat from this wind and the water will not be so bad," the man explained. "we'll try it. do these storms last very long?" "one never can tell. sometimes they come and go in less than an hour, and very often they last much longer." "then there is no sense in trying to stay up until it beats itself out," jim remarked. he couldn't say anything more. another flash of light gave them a brief glimpse of the world but they seemed to be far over the water. mr. fenton leaned out to make observations, but was promptly forced back to his seat. "wow," he whistled. "better keep low," jim advised. then came a series of flashes, and mr. fenton managed to get their location straightened out. "we're still a mile north and about half way across the lake," he volunteered. "i see fisher's point, the north end." "thanks." jim brought the plane about hard, raced her across, then shut off the engine just as a flash revealed the cove at the south end. the boy could see branches being tossed on the waves and hoped hard that none of them would cripple her highness when she dropped down. another prayer he sent up fervently was that the space was wide enough for them to stop short of the rocks. they hit the water, rocked forward and up and down choppily, then stopped, just as someone came racing along the shore waving a lantern. "is that you, norman?" it was mrs. fenton and she was so frightened that she could hardly speak. her face showed white in the darkness and she gripped the light as if she would crush it. "we're all present and accounted for, belle," her husband answered quickly as he hastened to get loose from the straps. "hello everybody!" that was bob who bobbed up in the back seat like a jack in the box. "so, this is london, and here _we_ are!" "oh, i've been so terrified. i telephoned to burlington when i saw the storm coming and they said that you had started. it--it's been just awful, awful." mr. fenton splashed through the water to reach her side. "we're a bit damp, belle, but otherwise perfectly fine." "i knew you would all be killed--" she insisted. "but we aren't," he assured her again. "need any assistance, boys?" "no. we can manage all right," jim answered. the rain was coming down with less force and here and there through the darkness showed streaks of yellow light. the boys got her highness secured to the pier, and hurried to the house, where they found that mrs. fenton was getting out dry garments for them, and a cheery blaze crackled in the wide fireplace, while from the kitchen came the welcome fragrance of the evening meal. they grinned appreciatively at each other and climbed to their own room under the rafters where they changed their wet clothes. when they came down mrs. fenton was just putting out the lights because the darkness had lifted, as if by magic, and through the western windows they could see the glow of the evening sunshine. "well, what do you know about that!" bob exclaimed, hardly able to believe the evidence of his own eyes. "have we been dreaming, or _did_ we come back from burlington in the teeth of a rip-snorting gale?" jim demanded. "it was no dream," mrs. fenton said fervently. "it was more like a nightmare. i was afraid to switch off the telephone because i expected every minute to get a call telling me that you had been wrecked on the lake and were all drowned. and, i was afraid to leave the switch connected because i was sure the house would be struck by lightning. my, it wasn't a dream--not here anyway. goodness, such a storm. i thought the house would be ripped from its foundations and come tumbling over my head. a tree was struck nearby for--oh, it did crash two different times--something awful. land sakes alive, you boys must not go up again in such weather--goodness--" the good lady stopped for breath and to pour glasses of milk out of a huge pitcher, while her husband served the rest of the meal. mr. fenton did not seem to have suffered any from his experience, and both boys considered the whole affair a most worth-while adventure. "we've got some bus, aunt belle. her highness is the best in two countries. have to say that because the shift landing gear was invented by an englishman, but the rest is pure american," bob smiled, then took such a long drink that when he looked up from his glass, there was a perfect white half-moon on his upper lip. "you better shave," jim suggested. "go on, shave yourself! how do you like air-traveling, uncle norman?" "i think it's perfectly marvelous. had no idea, really, how wonderful it is. when especially i think that i never, in all my life, went so far and back in so short a time. we always take a full day to make the trip to burlington, and today we made it in an afternoon." "were you frightened during the storm?" jim asked. "have to admit that i was quite a bit nervous but when i saw you so cool and managing so easily, and how the plane responded to every move you made with those controls, why, i just naturally couldn't go on being a coward. it does not seem to me that bob is over-stating the facts when he says the little plane is the best in two countries. i should say that she is the best in the world to come through such a grilling." "like to go up again?" "i should indeed. just think how automobiles and other modern inventions have placed us far ahead of my father's time. he had to use horses and oxen, and my grandfather did all his traveling, that is, any distance, on the lake-steamers. sometimes it took weeks, and a storm such as we had this afternoon would have driven the boat into the nearest harbor to wait for fair weather." "gee," bob said soberly. "how did those old boys ever get anywhere or have time to do anything?" "when i was a boy i saw some of their primitive methods, bob, but they did manage to accomplish a great deal." "some real nice day we'll give you a joy ride, aunt belle," bob promised with a twinkle in his eyes. he fully expected that mrs. fenton would promptly decline such an invitation, but she looked at the men folk very thoughtfully, then a little pucker came between her eyes. "land sakes alive, bob, you'll probably have to tie me fast and sit on me to keep me from jumping over-board, but i guess if you all think it's so fine, i can live through it. after i have the--er--joyous--i mean joyride, i'll write and tell your mother about it. she said that you took her up several times and now she wants her husband to get a plane." "right you are," jim laughed heartily. "mom's a good sport and so are you. we'll bind you hand and foot, and put weights on you, but i'll bet you will like it as much as mom did." "no doubt i shall," and mrs. fenton didn't smile over the prospect. "well, don't come down and ask me to buy you an air-plane, that is, unless the turkeys take a jump and we have a grand flock of them this fall, but it doesn't look now as if there is much chance," mr. fenton said. the last part of his statement was made soberly. "wonder how the boy's draining plan is working after that rain," jim remarked as he recalled the work of the strange boy on the bog. "when we finish supper, we'll go and have a look, but i expect the place is flooded way above the foot of the alfalfa bed," mr. fenton said. "now, how do you expect to eat your meal if you talk so much? norman, you are not paying a bit of attention to those boys' plates and they are both empty." "my plate may be empty, aunt belle, but my tummy is beginning to feel mighty content. i could purr," bob told them. "well don't. it isn't polite at the table. you may roll over on the floor and kick your feet up if you like," jim suggested. "don't you do anything of the kind," aunt belle said hastily. "the very idea. is that what you do when you have a good meal at home?" "no, mom wouldn't stand that," bob answered. "we tried it once at school and it didn't go so well there either," jim added gravely, and mr. fenton laughed heartily. "how many demerits did they give you?" he asked. "ten apiece," jim answered. "and we had to average ninety-five on four subjects to shake them off," bob added. "it's a cruel world." "the world is a great little old place. it's only the people in it, i mean some of them, who make it unpleasant," jim declared. "i can't eat another mouthful." "this is my last," bob announced regretfully as he swallowed the bite of cherry pie. "that is, i mean the last for the time being." "all right, it's a good thing you added that because you are not at home now and you don't know where the pantry is located--" "don't kid yourself. i ascertained the location yesterday afternoon, before i'd been here twenty minutes." "you would! where was i?" "luxuriating in champlain. i watched your fair form in the red bathing suit while i ate gingerbread and milk--" "humph, that's nothing, i had some when i came in--four pieces and two glasses--cream on top. come along--that is--is there anything we can do to help you, sir?" "no, thank you, jim. i have a couple of chore boys and if you helped they might think i do not want them any more. we want you to enjoy your stay in vermont--" "great guns, we are. it's a grand state even if we could put it into a comer of texas," bob replied sincerely. "you ought to like it, your mother was brought up here, but goodness sakes, she went off when she wasn't much more than a girl. she was married right here in the parlor. i can remember it just as if it was yesterday, then the pair of them drove away in the two seater with old shoes tied to the end. they did look handsome. your pa was all spruced up--and the next year they were in texas--" "you boys coming?" "yes sir." as they went out onto the front piazza, the sun was setting and the sky was streaked with brilliant red and gold which shone magnificently through the trees. there was no doubting that the storm had been an actuality, for a deep stream was racing down the run-off toward the lake, and everywhere the place was strewn with leaves and branches that had been broken. the rural free delivery box was leaning wearily against a maple, as if the struggle to keep upright had been altogether too much. the three picked their way across the road with water dripping from trees and shrubs, and the ground soggy underfoot. they were soon past the garden, and at the further side they could see the foreign boy busy working, but this time his uncle was with him. "whoo-oo," bob called cheerfully. the boy straightened up and smiled, then he came toward them and they went to the ditch he had showed them earlier in the day. it was full to the top with water which was running off as hard as it could go, and in spite of the storm there was little more water on the bog than had been there at noon time. "huh!" mr. fenton gave a little grunt of astonishment. "looks as if it's working all right, doesn't it?" jim remarked. "it certainly does. it'll be a great thing for me if he gets the place drained for that land is a piece of the best. don't see how he's doing it. i had an expert engineer here to dry up that section and he couldn't accomplish a thing. said the only way was to ditch it to the lake, then fill in the hole, use a lot of lime, like a concrete mixer and bring the hill forward. a mighty expensive job it would have been and then part of the land wouldn't be very good," mr. fenton explained. "reckon this boy is some sort of wizard. he's bewitching it," jim suggested. "wish we knew something about him," bob added. "don't blame you for being interested, bob, but we like to mind our own business around here. they seem to be honest and capable and don't interfere with what doesn't concern them--" "oh, we're not going to make blooming pests of ourselves, but we thought it would be fun to get acquainted with him. wish he could speak english," jim explained. "i don't believe that he's spoken to anyone since they came. his uncle speaks fairly well. he seems upstanding. there isn't any harm in trying to make friends with the boy, but i wouldn't--" "butt-in? we won't unless he's willing to have us. know what he reminds me of, bob?" "what?" "some of those indians, the chiefs, you know the fellows that are so straight, clear-eyed, and sort of fine. he seems like that, only maybe an even better sort. the indians we see now aren't so much like that." "he is a little like that, but i don't believe he's an indian. maybe he's like they used to be a long time ago before the white men took all the pep out of them," bob agreed. "i don't know any indians, but i never heard that they were very hard workers, not farmers i mean. it would be queer for one to be interested in that sort of thing. they like hunting--" "yes, that's right. dad said a few of them made good cow punchers, but they never got much chance to show what they might do." just then corso came toward them. his face was grave but his eyes wore a pleased expression. "it is good?" he said as he motioned toward the receding water. "very fine," mr. fenton answered heartily, then he added, "you must not let the boy work too hard. he does not look very strong. why not have one of the men help him in what he is doing? i can get a chap who will do as he's directed, and this piece of work will be a great improvement to the property." corso smiled. "that would be so excellent," he agreed. "all right. i'll have him here in the morning." "he can the english speak?" "sure. you can talk to him, and i'll tell him i want him to follow any instructions you give him." mr. fenton was glad that corso agreed to the plan for as the work promised to be a success he was anxious to get it finished as quickly as possible. "we better look after her highness before it gets too late," jim proposed to his step-brother. "all right," bob agreed, then turning to the boy, he grinned. "so long, old top!" the youngster frowned-- "old top," he repeated, "so long, old top." iv a mysterious find the next morning broke clear and beautiful as only a late spring day can start. the step-brothers found aunt belle busy canning rhubarb, and she eyed the two dozen jars with keen satisfaction. "there, that's finished," she announced. "did you do all that this morning?" jim asked for the sun was hardly well out of the lake and was sending a golden path dancing across the water. "land o' goodness, yes. tomorrow i'm going to make some dandelion wine, and before sun-up is the best time of day to get work done, to my way of thinking," she replied as she bustled about getting the meal ready. "then suppose we give you that joy-ride right after breakfast," jim proposed, and he looked at her to see if she had changed her mind. "land o' goodness, you boys don't believe in giving a body a minute to worry over doing a thing like that. i don't know--" "there's no time like the present," bob teased her, and she smiled. "i might's well get it over with and it will be a real experience. i can think of it all winter. all right." they both had a hunch that she was eager for the adventure, but she was mighty nervous about it, just the same. "it's kind of like going to have an operation or a tooth pulled," she told them and they laughed. "you won't feel that way about it when you come back." "coming back will be a relief, like when the tooth or the appendix has been taken out. i suppose i'll be kind of shaky and queer, but the agony will be over. now, you sit right down and help yourselves. norman told me to be sure to wrap up warm." she hurried away and the boys grinned, then obeyed orders. by the time they had finished, mrs. fenton appeared, wrapped from head to foot almost like an eskimo. her lips were set grimly and her fists were clenched for the ordeal. "now, don't you be afraid, aunt belle. it isn't any worse than sitting in a rocking chair, and it's much more exciting." "i expect you're right. it was exciting watching you drop out of the sky on a streak of lightning yesterday," she gave a nervous giggle. "we won't stay up very long, and if we see the tiniest cloud, we'll bring you right back," jim promised. fifteen minutes later they were ready for the start. aunt belle had been given advice and instructions, strapped fast and parachuted in case of an emergency, her head encased in one of her nephew's helmets and goggles adjusted so she could pull them down. the speaking tube and field glasses were close at hand. this trip jim was in the back seat while his step-brother was beside the passenger. not a word did the lady utter during the preliminaries, but when young austin called that all was as it should be in the rear, she braced herself stiffly, her frightened eyes searching the velvety-blue heavens for a sign of a cloud which might possibly spell danger. "all set!" bob shouted as he opened her for an easy take-off. her highness seemed to realize the importance of behaving like a member of the royal family and did her part like a charm. she skimmed over the lake, circled widely, nosed up speculatively, lifted slowly on a long gradual climb, the motion of which was truly as pleasant as being rocked comfortably in a grandmother's big chair. up they went five hundred feet and by that time they were beyond the south end of fisher's island and sailing gaily toward the narrows below the point. bob leveled off, they soared ahead, came partly around and climbed again at easy stages until the altimeter registered twelve hundred feet. the boy was glad that his aunt had asked no questions about the control board. her highness roared across north hero island, turned south again toward grand isle, then curved to come back. by that time mrs. fenton was wearing a very surprised look, and a moment later, she gave a relieved sigh, relaxed, and even sat up a little. her lips moved and the boy knew that she was saying: "my land o' goodness." "look," he pointed ahead and she followed the direction with interest, and after five minutes more, she was gazing over the side with fine unconcern. then bob pressed the glasses upon her, and she raised them to her eyes, and smiled at the wonders she beheld. as mrs. fenton had never been "joy riding" before, the boys had agreed not to keep her up too long this first trip, so bob brought her highness about, roared over the country his aunt knew; crossed the island above the bridge which connects north hero with isle la motte, and curved over the latter stretch of land until they were sailing on a line with the turkey farm. jim in the back seat had time for observation, so he took a good look at the place. he had no difficulty in making out the ancient homestead, the old house where he guessed that hezzy burley, the poultry man, lived with his helpers. close by were a number of hatcheries, and further along high wire-covered pens where turkeys, young and old, strutted timidly. the boy didn't have time to get a bird's-eye view of the whole farm, but he did notice that it came down to the lake on one side, and stretched back over a belt of timber and beyond a hill which looked as if it might be a very delightful place to ramble, but no good for landing a plane. as he glanced with interest at the fenton property, he thought he saw some men in a ravine and decided they were hikers, or merely out for a stroll. then, suddenly it occurred to him that they had no business on the property and it might be a good idea to tell mr. fenton and have hezzy keep on the lookout for them. the boy wondered if the watch dogs had arrived, but his mental query was answered immediately, for he saw two dogs racing down to the water, and both of them plunged in for a swim. they looked like a very capable pair and he hoped they would be able to save bob's uncle from having to mark off another bad year in his turkey business. her highness was now soaring as gracefully as the white gulls they passed on the water, and bob shut off the engine. the plane began a beautiful descent, and in a minute more she was floating toward the pier. "well, how's the tooth, aunt belle?" bob teased. "my land sakes alive, if it isn't the beatinest. there, i never slept a wink all night thinking about it, wishin' i'd been a better christian in case i never got down to earth again, and all that worry--" "was a dead loss," jim laughed. "yes it was," she admitted honestly. "it was just marvelous. now, i've got to hurry. my fruit man comes through in a few minutes and i want some lemons. tourists say this fruit wagon is kind of interesting and curious, maybe you boys would like to look at it," she invited. "it comes from montreal, through the customs, and we can buy things cheaper than we can get them from our own stores. it seems queer, but it's so." they had unstrapped her and she smiled. "i'd like to see him. we have some queer covered wagons that are driven through texas. how did you like the ride?" "a lot, and i'm ever so much obliged to you both. my land o'goodness--i mustn't forget to write to your mother and tell her i've been up with you. her highness is real pretty, isn't she!" "we think she is," bob answered with pride. "you got a right to think that." aunt belle stood a moment to admire the plane, which did look particularly lovely as the sun shone on her broad wings, and the water beneath her, splashed gently about the floats. "she's a beauty." "i saw some men, hikers i guess, back of your turkey farm," jim volunteered as they went toward the house. "there's a lot of people living at the north end of the isle, and they are likely to go roaming all over the place. sometimes the school teachers take nature classes to study the trees, and the boy scouts asked permission to camp there. hezzy knows them all and he lets them go parts where they won't do any damage or scare the birds." "probably it's all right then." jim dismissed the idea that he might have spotted something important, and followed the others into the house. "i got some bananas, mees fenton." it was a soft pleasant voice that spoke, and the lips were parted in a wide smile. "little greaser?" bob said in an undertone. "more likely little canuck," jim reminded him. "and he's not so little at that." the man was certainly picturesque in his baggy trousers, tied at the knees with pieces of new hemp, a red flannel shirt, and velvet jacket. he stood over six feet in his moccasins, which were of thick deer skin, and he might have been taller, but the weight of his hat must have kept him down. "i'll be right out, pedro," mrs. fenton called and she hurried away to rid herself of the extra clothing she had donned for the air ride. the two boys strolled out on the veranda to wait for her, and they could see the huge covered truck standing under the shade of two of the maples that edged the winding main road. being sure of a customer, pedro proceeded to his wagon, opened the end doors, leaped lightly over the tail board, and disappeared. "cracky, it doesn't look like any wagon i ever saw before," said bob. "no." they studied it with interest. it was heavily built, evidently constructed for long hauls and to carry heavy loads. the "cover" was of wood and metal, and the whole thing was painted a brilliant red and deep blue. "anyone would recognize that as far as he could see it," laughed bob. "oh, here you are." mrs. fenton came out with a basket on her arm and the three made their way to the caravan. "do all these peddlers have wagons like that?" jim wanted to know. "good land, no, only pedro. he had it made specially. fills it up in canada. he has to carry a great deal of truck to make it pay because some of the customs are high," she explained. "does he pick up american goods to take back?" "yes, and sometimes he does a little freighting when he can't buy our farm products." they had reached the end of the wagon, and the boys were amazed at its capacity. it seemed to hold a store full of goods. besides the early vegetables, lemons, bananas, oranges, and pineapples, there were moccasins, indian bows and arrows for youthful purchasers, bright blankets, and some skins hanging from the top. mrs. fenton looked over the wares, made her selection, and finally the transaction was completed. pedro got a pail of water from the lake and gave his engine a drink, then climbed into the seat, waved cheerfully, and thundered colorfully off toward the next farm. in a minute he disappeared over the hill, but it took longer for the noise of his machine to diminish in the distance. "golly, he could take half the state over the border in that bus," bob declared, then added as he saw the foreign boy coming from the garden, "here's our friend. hello," he called. the boy stopped, eyed them keenly, then smiled and showed a set of teeth so perfect that any dentist would have given half his kingdom to use his picture in an advertisement. "old top, so long." "guess that will hold you for a while," jim roared. "you are dismissed, my brother, old top." "aw i say, that's wrong. hello!" "aw," the boy repeated--"aw, hello." "that's more like it." he pointed to his step-brother. "jim." the boy looked at jim, who flushed under the scrutiny. "jim," bob said again. "jimmm?" "you got it. jim." "aw, old top; jim, so long; hello." "will you listen to the vocabulary. ain't that marvelous!" "it ain't," jim scowled, then he pointed to bob. "bob," he explained. the boy seemed to understand that it was some sort of introduction. "it ain't bob?" "yes it is," bob insisted, pointing to himself. "bob." "bob? jim?" "great," they both nodded gleefully. "you're a regular chatterbox." the boy repeated the words he had learned and seemed to enjoy the sound of them. then he stood a moment, straight as a young sapling, the expression on his face changed to a sober one, and into his deep, fine eyes, came a thoughtful look, which seemed to be habitual to them. as they met his gaze, any desire they might have had to have fun with him, disappeared, and the step-brothers felt a strong urge inside them to befriend this young foreigner. "bet my share of her highness against a plugged dime that he'd make a great pal," jim remarked. "i'm not taking you up. let's see if we can't teach him more english. that won't be butting in," bob proposed. "maybe we can do a little," jim agreed. but just then a soft whistle came from further up the road and the boy turned quickly, leaped over the low fence and started toward the sound. the boys watched him until a moment later he joined his uncle, who had evidently called. they both hurried in the direction of the lake, and a few minutes later, the young americans heard the dip of oars as a boat was shoved off onto the water. aimlessly jim and bob followed more slowly until they were standing on the shore, and they could see the boat skimming swiftly north. "they parked it here. guess they're going home to lunch, and it's easier than walking up the road," jim suggested. he glanced at the marks on the rocks and sand where the boat had been left. bob stared at the spot as if he expected to learn something of the two mysterious persons who had just left it. "here's a can, or something." bob stooped and picked up a small covered box. it was somewhat the shape of a tobacco box such as men carry in their pockets, and was no more than an inch thick. "that isn't tin. maybe they dropped it," jim said as he turned it over in his hand. "say, know what that looks like?" "a box--" "sure, but the metal looks like my silver watch did--you remember it got almost coal-black--sort of brownish." "so it does. guess this is silver. we better keep it, and if it belongs to the kid, return it to him." "sure. if it doesn't belong to him, aunt belle may know who owns it. mom said that in a little place like this everybody knows all about what everybody else owns." jim turned the thing over in his hand again, gave it a little shake, and as he did so, the cover sprang back, as if he had pressed a concealed spring. "well, look here," he exclaimed. the two looked inside but all they could see was some bits of colored string. carefully jim took hold of one and gave a little pull. "you'd better not do that. the string may be around something real small and you'll lose it," bob suggested, but before the words were out of his mouth, the entire contents was in jim's hand. "what do you make of that?" "maybe the kid has been trying to be a boy scout. it's nothing but colored strings full of knots, but it's a queer sort of string at that. i never saw anything like it--" "you'd better put it back," bob urged. "it isn't any good, but if the kid was having fun with it, we don't want to be goops--" both boys turned quickly as they heard the sound of oars being plied swiftly as if someone were rowing in a great hurry. "he's coming back." hastily jim stuffed the odd looking string back into its container and snapped the lid shut. "wish i hadn't been such an inquisitive boob," he muttered. by that time the boy and his uncle had almost reached the spot, and both of them seemed to be anxious about something. "did you drop a little box here?" bob called as the boy leaned on the oars to let the boat come ashore. corso's face lighted with relief, as if the thing they had lost were of great value. "yes, sir," he answered. "well, that's good. we just picked it up." jim stepped hastily forward and restored the find to its owners, but to his surprise, they both leaped out. "much sirs, we thank you." the man took jim's hand, and to that pure young american's utter embarrassment, stooped and kissed it. hastily he drew it back. "aw, that's all right," he said in confusion. "glad we saw it before the waves carried it off," bob declared. he was congratulating himself that it was his step-brother who received the homage, but his delight was short-lived, for the boy took his hand and performed as did his uncle. "much thanks, bob--jim," he said chokily. "aw, it isn't anything to make a fuss over," bob answered quickly, and his face flushed to the roots of his hair. in his heart he was glad that none of the cowpunchers from cap rock were there to witness such a display of gratitude. "much thanks," the uncle said again, and the two backed away. "don't mention it," jim said hastily. "we have to go, or we'll be late for lunch. we would have given it to you this afternoon if you hadn't come for it." they both bowed low, then sprang into the boat and rowed off, but now their faces were wreathed in smiles and as the distance grew between them and the shore, they began a sort of chant which sounded like the wind sighing through the cedars. "come along, let's get a move on. i don't want to be kissed any more. gosh, they must be french," bob exclaimed, and the two started to run as if the old harry were after them. when they came in sight of the house, they stopped. "i'm not going to tell anyone about that box." "mum's the word. if we tell about finding it, we'll have to tell about giving it back. perhaps it's some sort of heirloom, but it sure is a queer sort of thing to make such a fuss over." "i'll say, maybe now that we gave it back, corso and the boy will be friendly and we can ask them where they came from--" "maybe we can, but we're not going to be little interrogation points unless they give us the information without our asking for it. dad says a gentleman recognizes another gentleman and they treat each other accordingly--" "well, that's o. k. with me," bob nodded. "but i thought we might get an answer to one of the mysteries." v a discovery "i have some errands at isle la motte station, boys, and i'm running up there in the car. if you'll condescend to ride in anything so slow and primitive, i'm driving down to the turkey farm and you can see what it looks like," mr. fenton invited that afternoon as the boys came up from a swim. "well, of course, sir, we wouldn't be so impolite as to say that we scorn to use your only mode of conveyance," jim grinned broadly. "but we'll accept with pleasure. i'm looking forward to meeting hezzy and seeing his face when he learns we are members of the family," bob added with relish. "how soon are you starting?" "as soon as you are ready," mr. fenton told them, so they raced into the house and made a wild scramble to get into their clothes. in record time they were out, their faces were flushed from the stampede and the cold dip. "you surely have a grand lake in your back yard. i never enjoyed a swim so much in my life," jim volunteered as they climbed into the seat of the waiting car. "suppose that you have water-holes in texas and you boys fight over the swimming privileges just as the cattle men used to fight over keeping them for their stock," mr. fenton remarked. "we don't kill each other." "we're not so fond of a bath as all that, uncle norman. there are four creeks on the ranches, and one corner of mom's takes in a slice of pearl river." "in the spring we have it to burn. sometimes it fills the gullies and part way up the canyons, but that's only in the cap rock section. almost at the edge of the cliff the land stretches away for about three hundred miles and that's pretty dry. some of the ranchers drove wells, but they had to do it a dozen times before they had any luck, and most of them are driven more than a hundred feet to reach water. they force it to the surface and make pools," jim explained. "is that for the cattle?" mr. fenton was greatly interested. "yes, and to irrigate the grain." as he listened to the bits of description of the boys' home in texas, mr. fenton was driving along the road which ran in a wavy line all the way around the island and in ten minutes they came to the log bridge which led to isle la motte. here and there they passed vermonters who exchanged greetings with the farmer, and occasionally they passed touring cars. some of them were carrying full loads, while others were less crowded. a good percentage were trying to take in all the beauty of the "islands" they were crossing, but the rest looked bored and some of them read. the cars carried plates from almost every state in the union and were everything from shiny and new, to rattly and very old. "great snakes," jim remarked. "looks as if the world and his wife have taken to their automobiles." "glad we have her highness. she can't be crowded off the road," bob added and he glanced a bit disdainfully at the travelers. they drove across the bridge, hurried on north and at last came to the little depot, where mr. fenton took on a piece of freight, chattered a moment with the agent, then took his place again. "now, you'll see the farm. the place is one that mrs. fenton inherited from an uncle of hers. that end of isle la motte used to be rather thickly settled for these parts, but the old people died off and the younger ones went to other places to make their homes. it's quite a farm, nearly three hundred acres, but most of it is timber land, and it's too far from the main road to cultivate. if we didn't have the other place, we should have moved over, but it seemed ideal for a poultry farm. vermont turkeys bring a big price, so we started in a small way and soon it was quite a success. the last couple of years haven't been so good. the birds are not easy to raise, and we expect many of them to die and don't mind if a few are stolen, but wholesale loss--a couple of hundred went two nights before you boys arrived." "cracky, that was a wollop," bob whistled. "have many raids like that?" asked jim. it sounded like the losses on a big stock ranch. "there have been quite a few. well, here we are." they drove up to the old house which had been built over a hundred years ago, but in spite of its great age, it was sturdy looking. its architecture, doors, mullioned windows, and wide floorings in the "porch" would have gladdened the heart of a "colonial" collector. the boys did not know this, of course, but they could appreciate that it was a great old place. mr. fenton honked, and in a moment the door was opened and hezzy emerged. "how are you, burley? dropped around to show the nephews from texas what a turkey farm looks like." hezzy came down the steps and the boys eyed him gravely. "want you to meet the boys. jim austin and bob caldwell. they are going to spend a part of the summer with us." "pleased to--" hezzy was beside the car now, his glasses resting low on his nose as he could look over them. "reckon mr. burley has met us before," bob grinned. "oh yes, i forgot. they told me they landed with their plane on the cove and you drove them away. i explained the troubles you have been having." "they didn't one of them say they come from your place, just landed on the lake and said they wanted to see the farm. that was two days, or less, since we lost that big batch--i wasn't taking no chances," hezzy said quickly. he wasn't a very prepossessing man to look at, but now he smiled at his employer and was most affable. "sure, we understand," bob assured him, but jim said never a word. "want to look around now?" hezzy invited cordially. "we will. i haven't much time but they can get an idea and come back later if they want to see more," mr. fenton said as they climbed out of the car. "oh, they can see it in a few minutes," hezzy answered. "it's pretty much all alike." he led the way toward the shore, and presently the three were going through the houses, past the wired run-ways, and to the larger enclosure where the bigger birds were confined. "the thieves must have done some damage if they went over those wires," jim remarked as he noted the fine mesh, and that smaller yards were enclosed like a box. "they got in through the houses," hezzy answered promptly. "at night." "got good locks?" bob asked. "best we can buy," his uncle replied. "wish we could help you find the thieves," said jim, "but we're kind of dubs. i lost my watch at school and tried detecting. began to suspect the president, then i found it in my other suit pocket, so i swore off sleuthing." "you bet, it's a dangerous business, but i suppose you have someone on the job, uncle norman!" "well, no, we haven't. we just try our best to catch them when they come for more, but we haven't been able to discover the thieves yet. i see that you have the watch dogs. are they good?" "they seem to be fine dogs, but one of them is sick this morning. i gave him a physic. it's the only thing i know to do for him, but i guess he'll come around," hezzy told them. "you'd better call up the veterinary. i paid a good price for those beasts and should not like to have to buy another pair," mr. fenton ordered. "i called up the vet. he told me what to give him," hezzy answered. "well, guess that's all you can do. someone might try to poison them, so keep an eye on what they eat." "i'm not taking any chances," hezzy said hastily. "want to have a look at him?" "not this afternoon, i want to get back. you boys seen enough to satisfy you for the time being?" "sure," jim answered. "there isn't much to see. sometime when you are coming again, we'll tag along if you'll let us, sir." "be glad to have you." "sure, bring them along any time," hezzy spoke up. "i'm sorry you didn't say you belonged to the fentons when you were here yesterday, but i didn't know, and turkeys are the scariest birds that grow wings." "that's all right, but we thought you might have heard about the plane and recognize us from that," jim told him. "fent told me you were coming from texas in an airplane, but when a man's worried he don't stop to think. only thing came into my head was you were some marauders and my men were both away for an hour." "all right, come along." they made their way to the car and were soon on the way home. "it's a great place, uncle norman. maybe when we're flying around we can locate something which will solve the mystery for you, but you'd better not say anything to anyone because it might put the thieves wise and they'd work another way." "very well, i'll keep it under my hat, but don't either of you go taking any chances. i want to send you home with whole bones and not in sections. that would be a poor ending for your trip." "we'll be careful. we were over the island with aunt belle this morning and i noticed the other end hasn't much good landing space. too many trees and shrubs, except one hill that's kind of bare, but it isn't very big and it looks steep," bob explained. "your aunt certainly did enjoy her ride," the man smiled. "don't we know it! we knew she would, but she was scared blue when we started--said it was like going to have a tooth drawn." by that time they were at home and after supper they took a stroll along the rocky beach. "got something on your mind besides your cap?" bob asked his buddy. "yes, hair." "the rest is vacant space--" bob dodged a stone that his step-brother threw at him. "no it isn't, you nut. keep away from those trees or a squirrel will mistake you for a part of his supper," jim retorted. they walked on a way in silence, then they came to a huge boulder, where the older boy sat down. "i say, what are you thinking about? i never saw you still so long except when you're in her highness and her voice keeps you quiet." "how did you like hezzy?" jim asked. "oh, he wasn't so bad when we were properly introduced. guess if we had just lost two hundred turkeys we'd have been out with shot guns too. we'd have fired them first and sent apologies to the family afterwards. what do _you_ think of him?" "i don't know. it's giving me a brainstorm to find out. can't blame a man for being on the war path under those conditions. he's probably the salt of the earth, as your aunt says, and honest as the day is long, but i can't get over the idea that if we met him on the range in texas, we'd turn the bull loose on him," jim laughed. "maybe we would," bob admitted, then he grinned, "but you don't want to forget that you thought the president had your watch." "go on!" "what's eating you besides the man's looks and his reception of us the other day?" "not much. it seemed to me that he wasn't overly anxious to have us come back--" "why yes he was--said to come--" "any time _with your uncle_. but when mr. fenton said we could come by ourselves and take a look, he said 'we could see it all in a few minutes.' like as not, i'm barking up the wrong tree. let's go up early in the morning and see what we can see around the border. i'd kind of like to talk with bradshaw again. he was real decent and i'd like to know if he located any of that gang yet," jim proposed. "suits me right down to the ground." "we've been kind of grounded since we came. suppose your aunt would mind letting us take a lunch to eat in the air, or some nice place we pick out?" "of course she won't mind. what sort of crab do you think she is?" "no sort of crab, unless there is a very generous, likable variety, but we don't want to make extra trouble for her. your mother said that the farm takes a lot of work and she has no end of things to do. tomorrow she's going to can some more--" "and she'll be glad to have us out of the way for a while." bob was quite positive, and although his aunt showed no desire to be rid of her two guests, she was perfectly willing to fix them up a picnic lunch and by the weight of the basket she handed her nephew the next morning, it promised to be a bountiful meal. "you boys be careful and if it gets stormy you'd better come right home. i'd be real worried--" "you must not do that. didn't we slide down on the lightning the other day?" bob demanded. "yes, i know you did--" "and didn't you enjoy air traveling?" "yes, yes indeed i did, i wrote to your mother last night--" "then don't waste any good worries about us," bob grinned. "we'll be fine and come home to roost, like chickens." "hurry up, her highness is raring to go," jim shouted. he was already in the cock-pit, and his pal raced to join him. "all o.k.?" "sure mike." bob took his place beside his step-brother, adjusted himself, and in a minute jim opened the throttle, the engine bellowed a challenge to the world, or a joyous roar that it was about to do something worth watching. up they climbed a thousand feet, circled above north hero, and as bob glanced over the side, he caught glimpses of children and farmer folk staring at them. he waved gaily, then her highness leveled off and shot northwest. "going to have a look about isle la motte?" bob asked through the speaking tube. "no. if the thief is there i want him to think that we are not interested in looking for him," jim answered, then added. "i'm more interested in seeing if we can find bradshaw." "any special reason?" "not one." jim answered emphatically. they sped toward the boundary and both boys were filled with delight at being in the air. bob kept the glasses to his eyes and every once in a while would point out something attractive so his step-brother would miss none of the delights of the trip. jim did not wish to go straight north, so he bore westward, following the american side of the border and after an hour, circled about and returned pretty much along the same course. once they saw a passenger plane soaring majestically south, and then they spied the mail-pilot racing toward them, so they went to meet him. the young fellow in the cock-pit eyed them for a moment but when they grinned and waved, he waggled his wings as a return salute. he seemed such a jolly sort that jim came about and taxied along beside him for a while, then with a farewell wave, he spiraled high and circled away, the u. s. plane thundering toward montreal. "we ought to locate bradshaw soon," bob remarked as they were nearing the territory which their mounty friend patrolled, and jim nodded. the younger boy searched the rolling globe beneath them. through the glasses he could see tiny homesteads, miles of unsettled stretches broken only by a rough road, and an occasional traveler scooting along in a car or seeming to crawl behind a team of horses. "the place we picked up bradshaw is about a mile ahead," jim remarked, and this time bob nodded assent. he paid even greater attention to his observations, and once he picked up something that puzzled him. it was a wooded ravine, the sides of which rose steeply and were bristling with overhanging rock. the boy guessed that it was the bed of a stream, but the water had either dried up or been diverted through another outlet. he followed its winding course, and calculated that it must be several miles long and extended well across the borders into the two countries. twice he thought he saw something moving about, then he looked more sharply for he thought it might be a bear. in a moment more he discovered that it was a man, two of them in fact and they were making their way warily as if anxious to escape detection. "slow up a bit buddy and zig-zag. i want to see this place." jim nodded, reduced the speed, zoomed high and spiraled as if he were reaching for the ceiling, then dropped, and all the while bob kept his eyes on that deep ravine. "spot anything, buddy?" "i don't know. you have a look, but be careful. wouldn't that ravine down there be a corker place for bootleggers or smugglers to go sneaking from one side to the other? i see some men there now. what do you think?" jim was already scrutinizing the place. "yes it would, but it's too big for the patrol men to have overlooked," jim answered. "that old road runs pretty close to it. law-breakers would keep out of a place like that." "they might not just because it looks so inviting. they might figure they could get away with it because it's so easy, and they'd have it fixed up. see those fellows?" jim nodded, and by that time he was keenly interested. he not only saw the two men, but further along he picked up two more who seemed to be hiding in the underbrush, and not far away he espied a two-wheel cart, which was painted green. "great guns, we've got to find bradshaw and tell him. he may give us the ha-ha, but just the same, that's no ordinary bunch down there, and the men are not even smoking cigarettes. here." he handed the glasses back to the younger boy. "be careful no one notices that you are watching them," he warned tensely. he kicked the rudder, shot her highness' nose into the air, zoomed higher, and five minutes later, bob caught his arm and nodded toward the land. "bradshaw is down there on the road! he's about five miles, i guess, from where i first saw that ravine, and it ends just a little way below him. two fellows crawled up after he had passed, got on horses and separated, and jim, they are following the mounty, one on each side, as if they are watching him. they are just jogging along as if they are on old plugs, and jim--there, oh gosh, there are two more coming out a mile ahead on the road." bob was so excited that he could hardly speak steadily. "are they laying for him?" jim asked tensely. "i think they are. come on, do something, and do it quick, for they are all trotting in close. i think he hears the ones behind, because he's turning around--jim--" jim looked over the side, and just ahead he could see the drama being enacted two-thousand feet beneath him. "hang on to your teeth," he roared. with a swift flop he turned her highness' nose toward the earth, and with the engine bellowing he came tearing out of the sky. after the first second he shut off the motor, made it cough and sputter, and the plane began to spin and twist, tail first, then nose first. both boys tried to watch what was taking place beneath them, and jim's heart almost stopped beating as he saw that the mounty was concentrating his whole attention on them. even pat had his eyes upward at the startling spectacle of a gyrating airplane that promised to be kindling wood in a few seconds. on they raced, and as they came, austin saw that two of the outlaws were galloping swiftly, rifles on their arms, toward their prey. they seemed to have thrown caution to the winds and were taking advantage of the commotion above them to complete their wicked crime. bob clutched his step-brother's arm as he too took in the scene, but jim was not unmindful of their own danger and one eye was on the altitude meter. at five hundred feet he took the controls, started the engine and lifted her highness' nose, then went on into a glide that brought them, a moment later, to a scant two feet of the snorting patrick and the indignant mounty. but before the man could utter a protest, jim bellowed defiantly. "aw yes, suppose you think you own the air, and you're going to give us a blowing up. well, come on and do it." "i surely will," bradshaw responded. he was surprised at the whole performance, leaped from his horse, and strode close to them. "well, go on and search me if you want to, you half-baked nut--" "i say, how do you get that way?" jim was out of the cock-pit, his arms raised above his head as if he were being held up. "go on and search," he shouted. "i'm not afraid of the whole canadian army," then he added in a lower tone. "search me and make out you're mad as blazes. rip us both up loud and handsome. we saw some guys out to do you, and they are not far away. savvy?" "yes, i'll search you, you rough necks." swiftly his hands went over the boy from head to foot, while jim alternated between bitter abuse, punctuated with bits of their story told in a lower tone. in the middle of the performance, bob hopped out beside his step-brother. "what do you think you're doing?" he yelled, and added, "get out your gun, they're just back in some brush." the business-like automatic was instantly in bradshaw's hand and he whirled on caldwell. "you quit shooting off your mouth," he ordered in fine style. "how did you chaps discover this bunch?" in a lower tone of voice. he began the search of caldwell, and as the three stood they could see on all sides of them in case the outlaws decided to take a hand. "we were looking for you," bob answered while the man went through his breast pockets. "saw a ravine back there with a lot of men in it. looked queer so we came to give you the message, then as soon as we spotted you, we saw the bunch, four of them, closing in, so we did our little stuff with her highness. now don't go taking anything that doesn't belong to you," he ended with a savage roar as bradshaw drew a notebook out of his pocket. vi a capture they stood in rather close formation, bob and the mounty facing each other, jim so that he could observe anything approaching by either of two other points of the compass, and bradshaw scowling fiercely and thumbing young caldwell's book. "you've got to explain this," he thundered. "it's nothing but school reports, tests and names of classmates. you needn't go cribbing it," bob growled angrily. "what you american kids doing here anyway? got a permit a fly into canada?" bradshaw demanded, but his eyes were narrowed as he focused them on the surrounding brush, his gun in hand. suddenly he whipped it up almost to bob's ear, and snapped: "come out of that you fellow." then followed a snarling curse, a smashing through underbrush, and the sharp crack of the automatic. like a panther bradshaw leaped forward and in an instant he dragged forth one of the pair who had come to head him off, but galloping hoofs and wild oaths proclaimed the departure of the other three. a moment later there wasn't a sound of them. the mounty snapped handcuffs on his captive, trussed his feet, and shoved him along out of earshot. "pat," he called and the big horse trotted to his side. "don't let him move." pat promptly stepped over the man, who howled in terror, and lightly planted one hoof on his coat, pinning him securely. "some horse," bob whispered with admiration. "now, you fellows give an account of yourselves. how did you happen to come down right here just as those lads were getting funny?" he spoke so sharply that the younger boy was sure the man believed they were a party to the hold-up, but jim merely scowled back. "aw you ground hog. our motor stalled up there and i couldn't get it going until we almost smashed. can you understand that?" "it's clear enough. what are you smuggling in that car?" he gave a little nod and strode with a determined tread to her highness. "not a blamed thing that doesn't belong to us," jim shouted as he followed close. "no?" bradshaw leaned over as if to make a thorough inspection. "what's in the basket. a book of bed-time stories?" "grub," jim answered sharply, then added. "and some apples for pat." "thanks," the mounty grinned. "now, tell me, is that ravine the one that comes along like a letter s, deep and steep on both sides almost all the way. it ends in a rock cliff about a half mile below here?" "that's it," bob whispered and he sighed with relief as he realized that the officer had been playing the game. "great guns, we've had that under inspection, but we'll take another look into it. do you know that out-post right on the line?" "sure. has the two flags." "that's it. my head chief is there now. i wish you'd fly over it and drop him a message--" "we can give it to him," jim offered. "don't want you to come down. we've been bluffing that i don't know you and it may help. anyway it won't get you into trouble if any of the gang should see you again. i'll have to get this fellow locked up and make a report. i'm no end obliged to you. if you hadn't been on the look-out i might have had a nasty fight all by my lonesome. wish you'd get away as soon as you can and drop this to my chief. you did me a mighty good turn and the department will appreciate your further service. weight it down with these rocks, if you haven't anything better. i picked them up when i was cuffing our friend over there." "glad to. we'll keep a look-out from the air and you watch us. if we see any more surprise parties coming your way, we'll do a tail spin," jim said softly. "thanks, but i fancy those fellows are willing to call it a day. don't know why i've been picked out to bump off, but they may be planning to pull something in my territory during this beat. i'll be moving." he raised his voice and handed the note to jim, then began in a louder tone. "sure, i suppose your father is the president of the united states, but you beat it back over your own line and if you don't you'll wish he had the power of triplets." "aw," growled jim. "smoke bomb," bob added with relish as the throttle was opened and her highness got under way. further pleasantries were cut off by the thundering of the motors but the younger boy leaned over ostensibly to make faces at the officer, while his eyes searched the vicinity. he saw pat still penning the captive to the earth, but not a glimpse did he get of another human being in the neighborhood. the plane zoomed a thousand feet, leveled off and headed for the post the boys had seen a few days before. jim had the stones, which he wrapped with the paper in his handkerchief, and then he knotted the note inside. "all quiet on the front?" he asked his step-brother. "as a mid-summer night's dream," bob replied, then added. "i see the post, buddy." jim nodded for he too had picked it out and already her highness was gliding to a lower level. down she rode swiftly, until she was only five hundred feet in the air, then they noticed the man-on-post come out, and level his glasses upon them. jim raised his arm, and at the right moment he dropped the message over the side, and brought the plane about in a half circle, while they both watched the thing, the corners of the handkerchief standing out like a pair of rabbit's ears as it tumbled to the earth. "he's got it," bob shouted gleefully. a second man had come out of the hut and the boys saw them inspecting the present they had received so unexpectedly. the first man waved his hand and ducked into the house, and the boys, quite satisfied with the morning's work, grinned at each other. "i'm empty, buddy," jim announced as they sailed off. the boys took a route almost straight west, and in half an hour they were above a rugged region which the map informed them was in the state of new york. they selected a plateau with little timber and some kind of stream. they glided to the landing place, and presently her highness was standing like a great wild bird, poised on the hill. the boys hopped out of the cockpit, looked about to make sure that there were no warnings posted to keep off the premises, then out came the basket. "want to build a fire and toast some of these marshmallows?" bob proposed as he glanced at the food. "sure thing," jim agreed readily. he got busy and cleared a rock while bob gathered some bits of wood. in a few minutes they had the blaze crackling cheerily, and then they prepared to enjoy themselves thoroughly. mrs. fenton had put in almost a loaf of home made bread and butter sandwiches, a glass of plum jelly, six deviled eggs, slices of roast ham, olives, pickles, ginger cookies, milk, chocolate cake and candy. "if we eat all this her highness will never be able to take us up," bob grinned broadly as the things were set forth on the huge napkin. "intend to eat sparingly?" jim inquired. "not so that you could notice it," bob assured him. "when i come to think of it, i don't know where you're going to get any. i am hollow in both legs." "i know what i'm going to do," jim retorted promptly. "pitch right in and if you get more than a toe full, you'll be lucky." with that threat, they fell to and ate with keen appetites, and when bob finally stretched himself out on the rock with a huge sigh of contentment, the food was almost all gone. "gosh, i feel great." "i'm right with you, buddy," jim answered. he lay on his tummy and for a few minutes they watched the tiny coil of smoke that rose in a wavering line from the fire, which was burning low. austin did manage to throw on a few more sticks, that caught quickly, and crackled at a lively rate. "wonder what bradshaw and his gang have been doing while we tanked up," bob remarked. "wish we could have been in on the scrap." "wish we could, but we might have been in the way. if we had hung around that ravine waiting for the fireworks, the chaps who were parked there might have been warned and that would have spoiled the show," jim replied. "oh sure. by the noise they made, those chaps getting away may not have heard our little play. reckon, they beat it to their headquarters to tell the other fellows. seeing us again would have queered the party for the mounties," bob agreed. "yes, a plane is sort of conspicuous. bet that message told the chief, whoever he is, to surround the ravine and get the outlaws while the getting promised to be good." "i saw one of those fellows pull out his gun. gosh, they would have got bradshaw if he had come riding right into their arms." "it would have been some scrap, you bet. bradshaw's no slouch." "not a bit. wish he could come and see us at cap rock. say, with pat to help him, he's better off than if he were twins, or two policemen," bob laughed as he thought of the efficient pony. "some horse. glad he's got a good master." "you bet." they rested comfortably, and at last jim broke the silence again. "gosh, buddy, remember that story of the brothers who watched the smoke go up the chimney?" "surely. i was just thinking about them. the montgolfier boys. they were watching the fire and the smoke go up the chimney, and that set their brains to working and they wondered why the smoke went up. queer isn't it when you think that a little thing like that happening around one hundred and thirty years ago, should develop into air travel!" bob glanced toward her highness affectionately. "she doesn't look much like the paper bags they made their first experiments with, does she?" "i'll say she doesn't, nor the balloons that came a few years later. gosh, i'm glad we don't live at a time when people were so ignorant that they thought everything new was a devil of some kind," bob replied. "we'd be in a nice fix if we got shot at or stabbed with pitch forks every time we came down. but, even at that, jim, there are places in the world where the people are mighty savage. dad says in some of the south american provinces they've never been able to conquer all the tribes, or civilize them. they are almost the same as they were when columbus landed, and will fill a chauffeur full of poison arrows if they see a car driving through their land." "great horns. i'd like to go sailing over some of those places some time. lindbergh must have seen some mighty interesting places when he went cutting air-paths over mexico." "he sure did. and isn't he the grand lad for keeping his eyes open and his wits about him?" keen admiration for the lone eagle silenced them for a while, then bob reached out and took a triangle of chocolate cake. "i'll divvy up." "you needn't." jim made himself another sandwich. "don't know where my lunch is disappearing, but i find i have a little vacant space which needs fueling." at that they both sat up, made a second attack on the food, but finally were compelled to stop. "we may as well be soaring along," jim proposed. "let's go over canada and see if we can see any of the smoke from the ravine," bob suggested eagerly. "all right. you want to drive?" "you bet, and you watch for the scrap." they packed the remains of the food in the basket, stored it into the cock-pit, poured water over the embers of their fire and cleaned the spot with a piece of dry pine brush, then gave her highness an inspection. "great old bird," bob chuckled when they were sure that all was well. "she did a good job this morning." he took his place and jim occupied the passenger seat prepared to be the observer. a moment later her highness ran along the plateau, lifted her nose into the air, then climbed for all she was worth while jim examined the earth beneath them. there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the roar of the engine was a startling contrast to the calm forest they had just left. caldwell watched his controls as they raced at three thousand foot height. jim thoroughly enjoyed the inspection and occasionally made a note of something especially interesting, and often called his buddy's attention to the rolling globe. in less than an hour they were over the post where they had dropped the message, but if anyone was inside the shack, they did not come out to examine them. then bob turned sharply north, and soon they were about ten miles beyond the edge of the ravine and the place where they had stopped the mounty. "slack up a bit and go south," jim suggested through the speaking tube. "all right," bob agreed. he kicked the rudder, her highness circled, proceeded at a slower speed, and presently the spot in which they were so keenly interested, jumped into the lenses. at first glance it was as deserted as before, then jim saw a coil of smoke rolling up into the wind. concentrating with all his attention, he saw that some sort of shack was on fire, and just below the burning building, was a blackened spot that had been swept bare by the blaze. a couple of puffs snapped out from down the ravine, and a volley of answering shots spat viciously from the other end. "the fight's still on, buddy," jim bellowed, and bob looked over the side. they were getting close enough now so that they could see the battle fairly clearly, and they watched with tense interest. at one end they made out the canadian policemen closing in on the desperadoes, who seemed to be sliding back behind a screen of brush they had dug up, and just a few feet from them the wall of the ravine rose sharply cutting off their escape. "they'll have them in a minute," bob exclaimed excitedly. "suppose they can climb up that wall?" "it looks pretty jagged to me, like tiers of boulders, but, zowee--if they do get up, there's a line of blue-coats waiting for them," jim announced, and he would have danced up and down with joy, if he hadn't been strapped securely to the seat. bob paid strict attention to his business, then, as the attack was started, he decided it would be no harm to circle about and see the finish of the fight. he knew that his brother would be in accord with the plan, so he proceeded to carry it out. he zoomed higher, kicked the rudder, raced the engine and was soon pounding at three thousand feet, where he leveled off for the ring, and started to fly so they had a grand view of the drama below. jim kept his glasses fixed on the gully, and as the position of her highness was changed, he had a superior view of both sides of the maneuvers. suddenly the wall that cut off the criminals was directly in front of his gaze and he began to wonder about it. it seemed strange that men who were probably accustomed to protecting themselves and taking every precaution, should select a place where they could be so easily trapped. "the mounties must have given them a special surprise," he remarked to himself, but just the same, that did not seem entirely possible. it seemed to the boy that there must be a gang who used the ravine as a hangout, a means of slipping into the united states or canada whenever they wanted to, and they would need quite a force of men in order to keep themselves well posted on the habits of the men who patrolled the location. then it occurred to jim that the outlaws might not have used the place long and had not had time to prepare hasty exits. but that idea as it flashed through his brain did not seem at all plausible. the boy remembered that bradshaw had said the "gang" had been particularly successful in putting over every one of their schemes. that meant they were taking no chances, and surely they would none of them let themselves be backed against a high cliff where they were sure to be picked off with the rifles of the mounties if they tried to scale it, and run into the arms of other officers if they did manage to reach the top. he studied the group of men firing furiously from behind the brush pile and rocks, then he wondered why the men on top did not fire down at them. that was soon answered, for he saw that the edge was steep and soft, and even as he watched, he saw a man slip. his companion grabbed him by the arm and saved him from going over into the ravine. the slip dislodged a quantity of gravel and brush which slid down behind the desperadoes. two of them instantly whirled about ready to fire in case they were attacked from the rear. there still remained a few rods to be traversed before they would reach the cliff, and another man glanced up at the plane and shook his fist. "shouldn't like to kill any of them, but i wish we had a few tear bombs, or some little thing like that to put them out of business," jim lamented. he couldn't help feeling that although it looked as if the officers would soon get their men, they must have some cards still up their sleeves. "say, buddy," bob bellowed, "there comes pedro's covered wagon." he pointed, and although jim could not catch the words, he followed the direction and had no difficulty in picking out the highly colored truck which was moving forward slowly along a road that looked as if it was used very little. it was about a mile from the ravine in an especially isolated section and jim's eyes swept the vicinity as he thought that the huckster must be nearing his own home, but there wasn't a house for miles, and as near as the boy could make out, the road meandered along and finally slowed down near a dilapidated old rail fence which might mark an ancient boundary, or surround a pasture. rocks and brush were piled above it, and as the boy looked, he saw that the truck stopped. "perhaps the old guy has heard the shooting," he thought, but if pedro did, he gave no sign of either assisting or investigating. instead he dismounted with agility, with some sort of huge bundle in his arms, and in a moment he was standing on the rim of the wagon bed. it took but a moment for jim to realize that the man was throwing a canvas of dark green material over the brilliant truck. "bob, look," he bellowed. his step-brother, who had been giving his attention to the plane, glanced over and ahead, and his lips pursed up in a long drawn out whistle. by this time, which was really only a few minutes, her highness had passed over the end of the ravine, so bob zoomed again, banked, and came about. he didn't propose to miss anything. in that brief interval, the red and blue truck had been turned into a green one so like the forest surrounding it that it could hardly be picked out. jim saw pedro take his seat again, then move forward a way until he reached a wide spot where he turned around. "that old boy isn't all he pretends to be," the boy muttered. he would have liked to watch the "old boy" but he wanted to know what was going on in the ravine. he saw that the bandits were stretched in rows, only two men in the one nearest the blazing shack, while the mounties were making their way forward cautiously. as jim watched, he saw the rear row of outlaws slide swiftly back, then one of them disappeared under a rock. another followed quickly, while the men in front continued to fire rapidly, as if to cover the fact that there were fewer men at the guns. "great caesar's ghost. they've got an outlet there and are going to get away under the ground," jim shouted, but he couldn't make bob hear and he didn't want to take his eyes off the event even for an instant. quickly he swept the country-side for a cave entrance, and then, in a moment, he picked it up. a man emerged stealthily, raced through the woods, and came out close to pedro and his camouflaged truck. "by gum and thunder," jim exploded. vii a tail spin "buddy," jim screamed as he clutched bob by the collar. "they're going to get away." bob looked over the side to see what it was all about, and in a moment he gave a grunt. "huh!" caldwell took in the scene, then for a second he stared at his step-brother, mechanically bringing her highness around in a half circle. then jim had an idea. he pulled his note book from his pocket, fished out a pencil, and began to scribble hastily. when he had finished, bob read the message. 'they are crawling away under the hill and there's a truck, pedro's, but it's got a green cover, and is on an old road to the west, picking them up. the flying buddies.' caldwell grinned at the signature, and he was already guiding the plane toward the mounties, who were still peppering the cliff with their rifles. a few of them on both sides were edging up through the brush, but they were not firing, and the boys guessed that they expected to close in on the bandits, feeling sure the men could not escape. jim glanced about for a weight, but the only thing was the lunch basket, so he caught it up, saw that the cover was secure, then tied the note on the handle with his handkerchief so that it could be easily seen. "shoot," bob shouted when he was just enough below the canadians to allow the thing to fall close by them and not force a man to expose himself to the guns at the further end. the basket went over swiftly, spun around, tipped and tossed, and they saw it land. a man secured it without difficulty and waved an acknowledgment, while two others read the message. the boys couldn't see what action they took, nor did they hear the shrill blast of a whistle signaling to men stationed above the ravine. bob brought her highness about, and sent her over so they could get a good look at the scene in the woods. while they watched, two men slipped across the road and jumped into the back of the huge fruit truck, which was moving slowly. caldwell clenched his fists as he realized that the fellows would surely slip through the officers' fingers and he looked at jim, hoping that his step-brother would have another idea, but austin shrugged his shoulders. with anxious eyes bob scanned the road. he noticed that the truck was nearing a point which was high and narrow. on either side rain and winter storms had dug deep gullies, leaving barely room for one vehicle of any kind to traverse it in safety. glancing at the altimeter, bob read that the plane was less than a thousand feet up, so he banked, tipped her highness' nose, and zoomed in a swift, steep climb. the needle pointed to twelve hundred, fifteen, eighteen, but caldwell held her throttle wide open, going full blast and climbing at top speed. the wind shrieked through the wires and threatened to rip the wings from the fuselage, but the pilot did not stop until he was thirty-five hundred feet and some distance behind the truck. then he leveled off and the drama beneath them looked as if it were being performed by moving dots and dashes. the plane was brought about with a protesting howl, as caldwell looked at the globe with its tiny specks, the narrow, treacherous road and wee puffs of smoke. he made a swift calculation, came to a decision, and shut off the motor. the sudden silence was punctuated by faint booms of the guns cracking far below, and jim looked inquiringly at his step-brother, who was sitting calmly, but flushed as her highness' tail dropped; nose tipped foremost, then began to spin slowly, held up by the force of the wind from underneath, carried forward like a leaf caught in the breeze, and irresistibly drawn down by the laws of gravitation. jim hadn't the faintest idea what his step-brother hoped to gain by the reckless maneuver, but he saw that bob had some sort of plan, and that every fibre of his tense young body was on the alert, hands and mind ready to carry out his scheme. once they struck an air-pocket that bounced her highness in a most undignified manner, rolling her over on her back as if she were a kitten, but she finally tumbled out of it, and spun on and on. once the brother's eyes met and they grinned at each other reassuringly. "don't know what you're up to, buddy, but i'm right with you," said jim. "thanks. you might get your parachute in case i make a fluke. it's more likely to be that, than it is to do any good," answered bob, for they could speak to each other quite easily now. "how about your own umbrella?" jim demanded. "it's o. k.," answered bob, then added, "see that road?" "i can't help see it." "think there is room--i mean think it's wide enough so we can get into it without smashing the wings?" "ask me another. it's pretty narrow." jim studied the situation. "that truck is wide and there's quite a space on each side, but it will take some fancy landing to get the wheels on the road and miss those trees at the side. they grow like a wall, and as they are coming up to meet us, they look like the bottom of a nice torture chamber bristling with sharpened spikes." "nothing wrong with the picture. keep your eyes on that truck of pedro's. i'm going to try to drop in front of it. they can't get by, or turn back, and all i hope to do is delay them, but that may help, if i do it. keep a sharp lookout and tell me if i'm going too far either side. i don't want to get far ahead of them, not more than a few feet," bob explained. "bully idea, old man. if we smash up, i'll meet you at the gate. if you need any help, i'll tell st. peter you're a good kid and to let you in," jim promised gravely. "go on. _i'll_ have to do some tall lying to get him even to look at you," bob retorted. "here goes." he started to manipulate the controls, slowly bringing her highness as he wanted her, and jim scanned the scene ahead. he could see movement in the brush, men crawling or running on hands and knees, but not a uniform was in sight. he noted one thing in particular for which he was thankful. no one seemed to have noticed the falling plane, and that might be in their favor. also, he thought ruefully, it might not. if the mounties heard them dropping out of the sky, it would direct them more quickly to the road, but he thought of those men, armed to the teeth, desperate to get away, and he didn't try to imagine what they would do to the plane and the boys who threatened to frustrate their plans. austin had read of terrific battles with rum-runners who fought to the last ditch for their lives and stopped at nothing, and now he knew that if her highness was not hung in those spear-like pines, or wrecked on the treacherous road, the men behind them would instantly open fire and riddle them with bullets before they could move in the cock-pit. he glanced about for a sign of the canadian officers, but not one did he see, and by now they were so close to the ground that his range of vision was very limited. then bob brought her highness out of the spin, glided forward, her float ends scraping the edge of the truck as it slipped over, then, in another breathless second they were over the road, the wheels touched the ground, raced forward a few rods, slowed down, and at last came to a dead stop. "hey, what the blazes do you think you're doing?" it was the belligerent voice of the driver and did not sound at all like the musical tones of pedro. jim looked back while bob loosened the safety strap, but did not get out of it. "hop over and tinker about," bob directed, and jim obeyed. "you get out of the way," bellowed pedro. "oh, hello, old man," jim called good naturedly. "our engine stalled. guess we got something in it. maybe you can give me a hand." "i got no time. get out of the way, fast. i'm in a hurry." "sorry, we won't be a minute." bob was also struggling in the cock-pit as if something was out of order, and after a minute, during which pedro made the air blue with curses, he got back in his seat. "guess we got it," he shouted. "beastly sorry to keep you." bob tried out the motor. it thundered smooth as silk, the plane moved a few inches, coughed apologetically, then stopped. "come on, now, old girl," bob coaxed, and again he set the motor humming, but the propeller hung idle. caldwell did not dare to move forward until he was ready to fly, for there wasn't a foot to spare on the road ahead, which curved sharply. frantically the step-brothers tried out this and that, including the compass, but it didn't seem to help them a bit, and they were afraid to look over their shoulders at the fuming truck-man. "what's the matter with her?" pedro hadn't been able to sit still a moment longer, so he climbed from his seat and strode along the gully to the cock-pit. "hanged if i know. she never acted this way before," jim answered innocently, and the man scowled savagely. "what you doing here anyway?" pedro persisted. "great guns," bob looked up into the man's face. "didn't you see us stall up there, and come down tail spinning! you are darned lucky we didn't smash up in front of you, that would have been something to cuss about. it takes hours to clear up a busted plane and she digs a hole in the ground ten feet deep. that would have held you up good and proper. now, get back to your bus, we'll fix this thing as fast as we can and be out of your way." "you kids look here." pedro shook his fist in bob's face. "you be out of here by the time i get my engine started, or i send you both to hell, fast, more fast than your plane," he promised. "thanks a lot, old timer. every little favor is greatly appreciated," bob answered, and he scowled quite as fiercely as the canuck. "and if you send us to hell this afternoon, maybe we won't be lonesome," jim added. "can you run a plane?" "no," pedro snapped savagely. "well, we can, but not if we're ghosts. put that in your peace pipe and get on your own wave length. you don't own this end of canada. what are you doing here? if you can answer that, i've got another to ask you and it's right on the tip of my tongue--" "stick your tongue out at him," bob suggested. "i'd rather punch his jaw, i don't like his face. give me that wrench and i'll tap him for sap, he's full of it. run along, old boy--don't you know your onions, or haven't you got any this load?" jim demanded. "you get out of the way." "you go back to your bus, you make us nervous so we can't tell whether the tail ensemble is in front or back--" "you get out--" pedro insisted, and then as the boys merely stared at him, he started toward the truck, and through a slit in the big car, jim caught a glimpse of a man's face, and heard a soft signaling whistle as some one called the driver to his seat. quickly the big fellow climbed up, and jim, realizing that trouble was close by, buckled his safety strap, while bob too made ready for a quick get-away. "if i keep the engine going, it will locate us for those mounties, but they're afoot, or horseback, and can't come so fast," bob whispered. "start the noise and i'll watch behind. if i give you a kick in the ribs, lift us up," jim replied under his breath. in a moment more the engine was racing again, then it really did stop, but this time it was by accident and looked as if it was too surprised to go, for at that instant, bob caught sight of uniforms, and a sharp command was issued. "climb down out of that, pedro." the boys looked back and saw the truck-driver's face turn green with terror. "lively now, no funny business." pedro literally tumbled to the ground, his legs shaking as if he had the ague, and his teeth chattering. "i--i wasn't touching 'em," he stammered. "sure, i know you didn't, but you were impolite to american citizens and you ought to know better. stand on your feet." then the boys saw more than a dozen silent figures surrounding the truck. "i didn't lay a hand on 'em," pedro declared. "it's well for you that you didn't send them to hell as you promised. what are you doing here and what have you got a green cover on your bus for? you went down the line this morning and you aren't reported back yet. come, explain yourself." the man was on horseback and evidently the chief of the outfit. jim guessed that he was playing for a few minutes to give his men time to close in, then he snapped again, "cuff him. you boys let fly." immediately the truck wagon was literally alive with men swarming over it. the doors at both ends were jerked open, and in another second, crouching outlaws were being tumbled over each other. some of them opened fire, but their guns were knocked out of their hands, and in less time than it takes to tell about it, the fight was over. fifteen prisoners were lined up on the road, while the officer looked at them calmly. "put them back in and take them along." the crowd was bundled back, this time each was securely handcuffed, then a familiar voice called from the woods. "we got the last of them out of the hole, chief. what shall we do with them?" "pile them in here," the chief answered, then, as the group came stumbling forward, the man went on, but his voice was stern, "these your texas friends, bradshaw?" "yes sir," bradshaw replied quickly. "you'd better bring them to headquarters for obstructing traffic." "all right, sir," bradshaw agreed. "what'll we do with her highness? put her under arrest?" "who is her highness?" "the bus. i was introduced a few days ago." "thought united states didn't like nobility." there was a tiny smile on the chief's lips and a twinkle in his eyes. "how do you explain the title, bradshaw?" "i don't know, sir, unless they are of irish descent--" "we are not," jim declared positively. "you've done devilment enough today to be pure-bloods," bradshaw informed them. the chief dismounted and came close to the fuselage and held out his hand. "i want to thank you for your devilment, boys," he smiled and they both thought he was a grand looking man, the sort one reads about. "we didn't do much of anything," jim stammered. "we like canada," bob added for he was less fussed and shook the officer's hand vigorously. "if we've helped, we're mighty glad," jim drawled, then went on, "but we'd have been wash-outs if it hadn't been for her highness. i think being among nobility made her do her job extra well." "no doubt. is she all right, or has something gone wrong with her?" "her highness is fine as silk," bob declared emphatically. "nothing is the matter with her, sir." "glad to hear it. now, can you get her out of this trap?" "surely. it'll be a close shave, but she'll do it." "all right. wish you would and let the truck by. and, next time you are in canada, look me up, there's something important i want to show you," the chief told them. "we'll be mighty glad to see you--" "but we're not coming if it's one of those parties with all the world looking on," jim added quickly. the chief laughed. "we'll spare your feelings, but if you'll come, we'd be glad to have you dine with us some evening, only just our own crowd--all these fellows you know, and the cook." "that'll be fun," jim agreed. "we'll let you know some night when we're not having corned-beef and cabbage. so long." "so long." bob opened her up, the engine thundered, the propeller whirled madly. her highness slid forward, lifted, cleared the curve gracefully, zoomed and climbed. both boys waved at the men, and a moment later jim saw the truck load of outlaws being driven to some unknown point. that is, the point was not known to the boys, but they knew it was a good strong jail. "it's been quite a day. anything left in that basket?" jim asked through the tube. "left in the basket! well, if there is the squirrels are eating it back there in that ravine. you nut, you threw it overboard with your note," bob answered. "great guns, so i did, and it's your aunt's basket. say, hop down in some town and let's buy another for her," jim urged. "oh she won't mind, there's no hurry. we can get her one when we drive to north hero," bob objected. "i know she won't mind, but just the same, let's get another to take back with us, and something because we lost the napkins and dishes," jim insisted. "say, what's your rush?" bob demanded impatiently. "we want a basket again, don't we? don't we want to go up tomorrow? well, we can't lose all your aunt's baskets and expect her to pack grub stakes for us, can we?" jim answered. "that's so. we better get her a couple," bob agreed quickly. he consulted the map. "st. john's is the nearest," he announced, so gravely he turned her highness' nose in the direction of the town, because, when the matter was put to him that way, he could see the need of keeping mrs. fenton supplied with baskets. viii ablaze for the next three days after the boys' exploit in canada, it rained. not gentle showers, but a good stiff down-pour that drenched the land, swelled the lake, and ruined young crops. her highness was kept in the carriage shed under the tool house, because besides raining as if it were never going to stop, there was thunder and lightning, and hours of pitch blackness. both jim and bob would have liked nothing better than to go soaring up and battle with the elements but they knew that such an adventure would cause mrs. fenton terrific worry every moment they were out of her sight, so they contented themselves with the radio, phonograph, some jolly old books they found in the attic, and swims between storms. several times they caught glimpses of the strange boy as he went splashing by to and from the garden, and they watched his run-off with considerable interest. "if he keeps the water down on that hole land it will save the alfalfa meadow," mr. fenton remarked thoughtfully. "does he seem to be doing it, uncle norman?" "so far the water isn't any higher." "jinks, that's great," jim exclaimed with enthusiasm. he rather envied corso's young nephew who disregarded weather and waded barefoot along the road, his overalls rolled above his knees, and not even a splattering automobile racing past him, sending sheets of water from all four wheels, seemed to disturb him. the morning of the fourth day broke clear and fine, the sky velvet blue, and not a cloud in sight. the step-brothers came down stairs with joyous whoops, and young caldwell danced his aunt about the kitchen. "well, my land, if you want me to dance with you bob, you will have to make it a reel or a jig--" "let it be a jig," bob answered promptly and taking her hand he began the clattery dance while jim played an accompaniment on the mouth organ. but in a few minutes mrs. fenton had to stop for breath. "where did you learn to do that?" she demanded. "i never supposed that any young one could do it these days." "in school," bob answered. "you ought to see jim highland fling." "what's all the shouting about?" mr. fenton asked. he had just come in with the brimming milk pails. "look at the weather," jim laughed. "it's enough to make an airplane do a tail spin," bob added. "no doubt, but i hope her highness doesn't do any more--" "more?" the boys chorused. "canadian chap telephoned me yesterday to inquire if you live here, and he said that you two had made the country safe for the mounted police--" "aw, go on," bob exclaimed in disgust. "what did they do that for?" demanded jim. "in the course of his duty," mr. fenton smiled. "we'll be very much obliged if you will give us the details of the war while we breakfast. we want to know all about it. it isn't every day that exciting things happen around us and we feel that we have been slighted--" "that's all right, mr. fenton. bob did most of it. i'll tell you the whole story--" "i did not do most of it," bob denied emphatically. "if you leave out anything you did, i'll tell them." "fair enough," mr. fenton laughed. "now sit down, satisfy the first pangs of hunger, then begin," he ordered, and the boys took their places. between the two of them, the fentons were able to get a fairly interesting account of what happened, and when the story was finished, mrs. fenton looked at them soberly. "my, my, you might both have been killed. that was why you got me those new baskets. i thought there was something queer about your losing it," mrs. fenton exclaimed. "if you had lost it, or forgotten it, i should not have minded one bit; but if you had told me how you happened to throw it overboard, i should have been glad." "we wanted to be sure that we had a basket for next time," bob grinned cheerfully. "we expect there will be other next times." "my land of goodness, there's the mail man. he looks like a drowned rat. come right in, harvey." the r.f.d. man wore boots that came to his thigh, and even at that he was splashed with mud. "got a registered letter, and another one that looks important, so i didn't put them in the box," the man explained. "some rain we've had. did you know, fenton, that the carrying point is covered? the water is going over it like a mill race, and i had all i could do to keep the wheels under me. loaded the car up with rocks or i'd have been swimming around after the letters." "my land sakes alive, is it as bad as that! here jim, this letter seems to be for you." mrs. fenton gave austin a long envelope, which he accepted with surprise. in the corner was a canadian stamp. "looks like it's from your friends across the border," mr. fenton said. jim opened it promptly, and scanned the contents, then he smiled with relief that it wasn't more formidable. the salutation was as he had signed the note he dropped to the mounties in the ravine. 'flying buddies. gentlemen: it would give us great pleasure if you will join us in an informal dinner tomorrow evening at seven p.m. in going over the off duty hours, we find that most of the men who participated in the affair at the ravine can be present. you have our solemn word that the dinner is merely a friendly one, and you will not be embarrassed by speeches. as a matter of fact you may be aroused to the fighting point by the uncomplimentary remarks of your hosts. telephone me if the time is not convenient to you, and believe me, very sincerely yours, allen ruhel.' "great guns and little fish-hooks, that will be fun," bob shouted. "it means tonight," jim reminded his step-brother. "it says tomorrow." "but it's dated yesterday." "that's so. we'll get her highness diked out, and be ready. suppose we better wear real clothes under our flying suits--" "dinner coats," jim agreed. "if it's informal we don't have to do more than that--" "brush our teeth," bob suggested. they showed the letter to the fentons and the man looked grave. "i hope they are careful what they say," he remarked seriously. "what do you mean?" bob demanded. "these international affairs are ticklish things. if you get riled and throw a soup plate, or some little thing like that, it might bring on a war. it doesn't take much to bring on a war--" "there isn't a soup plate handy, uncle norman, but i know where aunt belle keeps her potato masher. you want to be very careful that you do not start any internal wars; they are the worst sort." "guess i better get outside if that's the case," he chuckled, and went for his own high boots. "let's have a look at the world," jim proposed, then added, "old champlain looks kind of high to me. is it usually so?" "suppose it would be after so much rain," bob put in. "no it isn't," mrs. fenton answered, and she looked very serious. "it's higher now than it's been in years, and with the rain stopped, it will fill more. there are so many streams, some big ones, that empty into it all around." she went with the boys to the back veranda and glanced across anxiously. "i can't see gull rock at all, and fisher's island looks as if half of it is under water." "if it comes flooding too high, we'll take you and uncle norman up in her highness out of danger," bob promised. "we can get in the boats if necessary, bob, and we've got a lot of high land for the stock, so that will be all right, but there are many of the people here who have small farms. my land sakes alive, i expect that some of them are in a bad way right this minute. i'll go telephone." she hurried into the house, and in a moment the boys heard her talking with some neighbors. "let's have a walk around," bob suggested. "we won't need to wheel her highness out. look at the carriage shed," jim exclaimed as he happened to glance in that direction and saw the water lapping up under the wide doors. "cracky. let's see if she's all right." "we'll have to take our shoes off--or get boots." "i'll see if aunt belle has any extra pairs around." he went inside, while jim surveyed the turbulent waters which had risen several feet and were thrashing up to the edge of mrs. fenton's flower garden, and was more than half way across the lawn when the two boys first saw it. "come on," bob called, and jim went inside to the shed. "here are some boots. aunt belle says they are water-proof, but not very handsome. they have been patched." "they will be just the thing." presently the pair had their feet in boots several sizes too large for them, but they grinned, and went down into the yard. their first care was her highness. the water had run up a little way under her, but she hadn't suffered any damage. jim got into the cock-pit and shifted the wheels to the floats, and that done the boys continued the tour of inspection. "if it rains any more, by george, there will be the deuce to pay." they went to the edge of the lake, but could not follow its rim because the inundations were deep and many of them ended in treacherous swampy stretches. where the cedar-rimmed cliff came close to the lake's edge, the water pounded high above all previous marks, and some of the lower ones were being undermined by the strength of the waves. "looks like a regular ocean," jim remarked thoughtfully as they stood on a promontory which jutted out in defiance of old champlain's fury. "say, where's that carrying point?" "further down. about half way to the village. remember the day we were coming up and you noticed a neck of land, lake on both sides, that connected the two larger sections of north hero?" "oh sure. little stretch with a beach and roadway." "that's it. mom told me it got its name from revolutionary days. pirates and smugglers coming down from canada with loads of goods in small boats, carried their boats across this piece and would get away from the officers, or whoever happened to be chasing them. it's quite historic. a bigger craft coming along would have to go all the way around and by that time the smugglers could lose them plenty. they'd hide among some of the lower islands, or even go on straight." "great old place. obliging of champlain to arrange itself so conveniently. smashing guns, look at that water. it's hammering in all directions. too bad if it spoils crops, but it sure looks as if it is going to. did you hear your aunt say whether the turkeys are dying off because of the dampness?" "hezzy reported a hundred have turned up their toes." "rotten. why don't they have a good warm place to keep them when the weather is had?" jim exclaimed wrathfully. "that's the funny part of it, buddy, they have got a real up-to-the-minute house, brooders and everything," bob replied soberly, then added, "gosh, i do wish we could do something about it." "well, we can't keep them from dying off, that's a cinch," jim answered. "let's take her highness and have a look over the place." "right-o, old man." they turned about away from the destructive waters and hurried as fast as the clumsy boots would permit, to the carriage house, where they floated the plane out, closed the door after them, and piled into the cock-pit. "got enough gas?" "plenty." presently her highness was thundering above the lake and after a few circles over the land, which gave the boys an idea of the havoc being wrought among the islands, jim headed her toward the end of isle la motte and in a few minutes they were cruising at low speed above the turkey farm. it too had suffered from the rain, but its buildings were located on high ground which was well drained so that even now it was drying rapidly. the boys could see the turkeys in the run-ways and they knew that until the vicinity was no longer drenched, the delicate birds could not be allowed to roam in the larger pens. as there seemed to be nothing special they could learn, they proceeded to fly across the property, and soon they were above the section where they had seen the men hiking the first day they had attempted to visit hezzy. just beyond the strip of forest, which was quite dense, they saw a long, comparatively bare slope toward the opposite side of the isle and they easily discerned several men moving about as if they were working. "there's more turkeys," jim remarked through the tube and bob nodded that he could see them. "probably they are fixing a place on this side because it's more sheltered," the younger boy suggested. "i see hezzy down there." sure enough the farm's foreman was striding along the edge of the meadow. he paused suddenly, glanced up at them, then disappeared quickly among the trees. "i suspect that he doesn't like us," jim grinned, and bob laughed heartily. "sometime we'll come over and tell him we want to help catch the thieves," the younger boy suggested. "let's hop down now. we can land on that field." "we'd better not. we might land on some small birds," bob replied, and jim agreed that probably it would be safer to wait and have their talk with hezzy at the house. as there didn't seem to be much more to see the boys rode on, across to the new york side of champlain, and before they decided to return they were overtaken by the mail plane. bob, who was at the controls, waggled his wings, and instantly the other pilot responded. he grinned as he flew by, and they waved as if he were an old friend. "it's the guy we saw the other day," jim declared, and bob nodded. the mail plane went racing north, and the boys started for home. it felt good being in the air again, but they were going to the dinner and they wanted to give her highness her weekly inspection, besides replenish the gas supply. that evening, with their best suits under flying togs, they hopped off again, this time making straight north toward the border. they soared grandly beneath a brilliant dome of colors reflected by the setting sun, roared above canada, and in half an hour came down on the flying field where they found allen ruhel and sergeant bradshaw, their uniforms swank, and their faces wearing wide grins of welcome. "glad you could come," ruhel greeted them. "we surely owe you a swell spread--" bradshaw began, but the chief interrupted him. "perhaps we do, but they are not going to get much more than the usual mess. i had to promise that or they would not have come." "how's pat?" bob inquired as they were led toward the long mess hall. "he's so set up over my promotion there's no doing anything with him," bradshaw answered soberly. "i may have to trade him off for a yellow cat." "any time you want to trade him, let us know," jim put in quickly. "i know you boys. you'd spoil him more than i have." they were ushered into a barracks-like building and were soon in the mess hall where already two dozen of canada's finest men were waiting. the boys recognized a few of their faces, though not many, but introductions were gotten over with little ceremony, and the dinner started. because of the young american guests of honor there was no wine served, but that did not detract from anyone's good humor, and the party was an enormous success. bradshaw told the boys that the outlaw gang they had been trying to capture for such a long time, were at last almost all rounded up. "thanks to your good help," he added. "jinks, wish we could have been down in the battle," bob lamented. "i say, didn't you have enough of it?" the chief laughed. "it seems to me you were rather in the thick of things, you know. i expected any moment the blighters would turn their guns on your wings. they would have made their get-away if you had not let us know about the hole they were crawling through. did bradshaw tell you that it was fitted up like a war-time trench, with living quarters, periscopes and what-not?" "great guns--oh, what happened to pedro?" "he's a perfectly good canuck gone wrong. he'll pay for his sins with the rest. a couple of them got away, and a few of the ones we caught are americans." "do you have to send them back?" jim asked. he rather felt the fellows should take their punishment with their gang. "neither your government nor their families have shown any disposition to intervene in their behalf," the chief smiled, then went on, "as a matter of fact, from their records in the states, i think your department of justice is likely to send us a vote of thanks for apprehending them." "i hope they do," jim responded. after that the courses went on merrily. there were jokes, jolly stories, no end of kidding back and forth, and finally the dessert was served. a few minutes later the chief rose. "i promised our american friends that there would be no speeches tonight, so i've kept my word, but some of the boys will have a presentation. stand up, you men of texas, and take your medicine." the boys obeyed, and flushed crimson around their collars as the chief made his way to their places. he opened a small box which seemed to have some ribbons on the royal purple velvet surface. the man held them up and solemnly pinned one to each boy's coat. each medal was of two ribbons, the american flag and the british, arranged on a bar side by side, and suspended from them was the mounty insignia in the middle, a pair of wings, and from the wings hung a tiny basket. "to the flying buddies" was engraved on the back. "you can thank your lucky stars that this isn't the french section of canada and you don't have to be kissed," bradshaw informed them. "we're grateful for that," jim laughed in confusion. "this has been a swell party, but what we did, if it was any good, was as much for our own country as for yours, but let me tell you this, if we ever catch you in texas, we'll get back at you--we'll pin horse-shoes on every one of you," bob declared. "is that a threat or a promise?" "both," bob laughed. "my dad has a sizy sort of ranch. it will hold the whole bunch, so if any of you come to our state we'll be mortally offended if you don't show up at our house," jim supplemented. he was recovering his poise, and then the mounties cheered them until the rafters rang. an hour later they were allowed to depart, and every man promised to call for the horseshoe. "that was a dandy party," jim chuckled later as they circled above the field again. "they are a grand bunch," bob declared enthusiastically. he leveled off her highness, and started in a southerly course that would take them down over new york state a way, but the wind was from the west and would drive them toward their own goal. the night was starless, although there seemed to be few clouds, and the air was heavy with moisture as if it would be raining before morning. the step-brothers did no more talking. they were both busy with their own thoughts. their minds were occupied with the evening's fun, but in a few minutes bob began to think of his aunt and uncle and wished very hard that he could do something to help them. the rain had ruined a large part of the crops, and although there was time to plant other things, the year promised to be another bad one for the fentons. the boy resolved to write and tell his mother. mom somehow always had a suggestion that was worth while. if we could only find out what happens to the turkeys, he sighed and he resolved to pay hezzy a visit the next day if possible. suddenly, in the distance they caught a glimpse of a flash of light across the sky. it disappeared almost at once, then they picked it up again. "bet it's the mail plane," jim shouted. "guess it is," bob agreed. he watched the plane getting closer, and presently there was no mistaking the huge machine that came droning toward them. their altitude was five thousand feet, and the other pilot would pass almost over them. it was mighty chummy to meet a pal of the air, so bob zoomed up, and soon her highness was racing beside the bigger machine. the pilots waved greetings, waggled their wings, then, as the boys had to turn eastward, they waved a good-night, turned abruptly and shot across the other's course. the man in the cock-pit nodded, and in a minute they were a mile apart, but jim was watching the diminishing lights with interest. suddenly he caught his brother's arm and twisted him around. "something's gone wrong," he bellowed; he didn't need to, for bob could see. at that moment there was a blaze, a leaping tongue of flame and the plane started to totter crazily toward the ground. "thundering mars--he's on fire!" ix the mail must go through "bellowing bulls," bob yelled at the top of his lungs as he realized that something catastrophic was taking place in the air and that the good-natured young pilot was in danger of his life. "blistering blazes," jim exclaimed. neither boy could hear the other's ejaculation, but they were tense and rigid as they sat for a paralyzed instant staring through the darkness toward that flaming plane which was beginning to drop like some kind of lost star out of the blackness of the sky. mechanically young caldwell kicked the rudder, his fingers adjusted the controls, and her highness came around with a screech of the wind through the struts and a shrill whine of the wires. he opened her up wide, zoomed, then leveling off, raced toward that flaming, careening plane. with lightning rapidity the boy calculated to a nicety the speed of the doomed mail-plane, and into both their brains flashed the ghastly question as to the sort of spot on to which she was making her plunge. was it smooth open country, or was it thick forests where the fire would spread and become a violent furnace before it could be subdued, or was it into some little sleeping village, whose residents would be seriously jeopardized? as she made her way downward the plane cast a bright glow about herself, like a funeral bier, but the light only accentuated the night beyond the rim. at racing speed her highness cut through the heavens like a thin streak of brightness, and in a minute she was above her falling fellow. the altimeter read three thousand feet, so bob climbed higher, circled when he was sure he would have the grade he wanted, then, tipping the nose almost vertical, he raced downward, the engine roaring. it was breath-taking, but both boys were keenly alert. in a moment they were beside the burning plane and following it, at a safe distance, toward the ground. they could see the mail pilot struggling with the controls, then he noticed them, grinned, and with a wave of his hand, he stopped the battle, loosened his safety strap, and stepped over the rim of the cock-pit. he seemed as cool as if he were doing a stunt at a fair-ground. a moment later he waved again, then jumped into space, making as wide a leap as possible. the two machines plunged on and the man's body seemed to roll, then drop swiftly, then the parachute blossomed out wide and white as it spread open to save him. "whew," bob whistled softly. he could not watch the escaping pilot a moment longer, but he switched on all the light he had in an effort to pick out a landing place. one thing they were positive of, they were not over a village, for there wasn't even a fueling signal visible. on they went, and at last jim caught his step-brother's shoulder. "woods," he said, making his lips form the word so the boy would get it, and bob nodded that he understood. by this time they were so close to the ground that the descending furnace cast a brighter glow, and they could see the tree tops standing out like sentinels. at five hundred feet bob pulled her highness out of the mad drop, leveled off and circled in swift short turns. he maintained the height, and the two looked over the side. presently they saw the pilot dropping toward them for his speed had been checked by the parachute. at the same instant there was a dull thud and the mail plane smashed into the ground. the flames leaped furiously, and while they ate hungrily at their prey, they lighted the vicinity brilliantly. "over there," jim pointed, and bob looked. he saw a clear place, and shutting off the motor, glided to a landing. before her highness came to a full stop, jim was out of the cock-pit. he glanced anxiously at the work of destruction, then looked up to the pilot, but he gasped with dismay as he discovered that the fellow was over trees and seemed unable to spill enough air to guide himself out of their reach. in a second a huge branch caught the silk and held it firmly, while the man dangled like a pendulum thirty feet above the hard ground. a fall would mean broken bones. as the step-brothers were texans first and foremost, ranchers' sons, they never went anywhere without a rope. in fact they would have felt as if they were not fully dressed, so now long lariats were coiled under their seats. it took only a second to secure them, then the two raced toward the tree. "hey you lads, get the mail out of the plane," the pilot shouted when he saw them approaching. "you go back and do that while i get him down," jim said quickly to his brother. "the three of us can probably save it all." "take my rope." bob handed it over, then started to save the mail or as much of it as he could, while austin ran on to the tree. "be careful. i'm trying to figure out a way to get onto the branch, but if i swing. i'll come down," the pilot called. "i'll look out. hold yourself steady." jim had the rope in his hands, but a flying suit is a cumbersome garment and hampering. he stood away on a slight knoll, gave the lariat a few expert turns, then sent it forth. it shot under the pilot's feet, opened wide, rose quickly and was jerked securely. "good work, buddy," the pilot called. "fix it so it won't cut you and i'll get in that nearest tree," jim answered. he was already beside the tree, and looping the end of the rope about his wrist as he started to climb. it was no easy task to prevent the lariat from tangling with the branches, but luckily the tree was a yellow pine, and one side of its trunk had only a few short stubs. the boy went like a monkey and was soon a few feet higher than the pilot. he fastened the end of the rope to a stout branch, took an instant to decide what his next move would be, then he made up his mind, and began to crawl out closer to the man he was trying to save. "careful that doesn't smash," the chap warned. "all right. get loose from your parachute. i'll make a hitch here, so you'll come just under me--" "sure that will hold us both?" "it's a good green branch." "you make your hitch, then get back to the trunk," the pilot proposed. "it will be safer." jim obeyed. hanging on with one hand, he leaned forward to watch. the pilot released himself from the straps, then eased himself by hanging on with one hand. finally he let go, and swung beneath by the lariat. vigorously he sent his body forward, grasped the branch, hauled himself upright, then made his way to his rescuer. "all o. k." "i'll tell the world. come along and we'll help the kid." scrambling to the ground was much simpler than making the ascent, and presently they joined young bob, who was courageously hauling out bags of mail. "gosh," he whistled. "here, take hold." the pilot directed the work and in a few minutes the mail bags were all out of the compartment, and none too soon, for the flames had gained great headway, and were swiftly devouring the plane. they dragged the bags to a safe distance. "i say, we have some pyrene," bob announced; "i was a boob not to think of it before." he ran for the tank, they helped him with the tiny hose, and in a few minutes the blaze was extinguished. the darkness seemed to settle about them more thickly than ever, but the light from her highness showed clearly so they could see their way to the plane. quickly the mail pilot glanced over it and he smiled with admiration. "some grand little bus," he told them. "you bet. where can we take you?" "to albany. we got to get the mail there too," the pilot informed them and the brothers glanced at each other. her highness would certainly carry the three of them and some freight, but whether she was capable of such a load was another matter. "the mail must get through," the pilot repeated. "we'll try it," jim responded. "one of you fellows might stay here," the pilot suggested. "that won't be necessary," jim said quickly. taking the mail to albany would be a task, but coming back to find the one left behind would be an all night's job. anyway, her highness had never been pressed into service for such an emergency and he was determined to leave nothing behind if that could be avoided. the mail man was already dragging bags from the pile. luckily none of them were very bulky and the three set to work to fit them into the freight compartment. that full, what was left was stored in the extra passenger seat. "i'll sit back there," bob offered. "i'm smallest." "all right," jim agreed. he was rather glad the younger boy had made the suggestion. caldwell had piloted her highness through her latest hazard and must be fagged. "pile in." he took a moment to inspect the strip he would follow in the take-off, then leaped to his own seat. the third air-man was beside him. "i'm much obliged to you lads for what you did for me tonight," he said. "you don't know what a relief it was to see you tearing to help me. had an idea that your backs were turned in my direction and didn't hope that you had seen me." "i was watching you as we went along. we were about a mile over, so of course we came back," jim replied casually. "glad we were able to get to you in time." further conversation was impossible, for the boy opened the throttle and her highness roared. the engine ran smoothly, the machine started, but it seemed to jim as if she would never lift. he could see the pines leaping toward them, then up went her nose and she was off the ground, soared laboriously and dangerously close to the trees, then began to climb. that part accomplished, austin was relieved, and he concentrated on the long grill ahead of him. he wished that he had discussed the course with this man who must know every inch of air along his route, but the whole affair had taken but a short time. the excitement had driven a great many things from his mind, so now he began to calculate his course, tracing it on the map. in coming up from texas the boys had stopped off to see the capital city and its twin across the river. he could depend upon the pilot to direct him to the proper field, so coming down would be all right. the unaccustomed load made her highness' management quite different from ordinary occasions when she had carried only an extra passenger, but the mail had to go through, regardless of men and machines, and the youthful part-owner of the plane was proud of her performance now, but he hoped hard that they would meet nothing on the way which would add to their difficulties. he thought of the fentons. they were early birds and probably in bed long ago, but bob's aunt was a nervous woman and she might not sleep soundly because of their absence. they could let her know from albany what was delaying them, but that might only add to her anxiety. well, they had to make the best of it and it was rather an honor to be entrusted with u. s. mail. he tried to imagine what the bags contained. probably a great many of the letters were highly important. people would not be sending their communications by the swiftest way if the matters were not urgent. on, on, and on they soared through the night. the clock on the dial said twelve thirty. it seemed much longer than that since they had left their jolly hosts in canada. once the mail pilot touched his arm, then raising his hand as if he were an orchestra leader, he motioned to go higher, jim nodded that he understood, so began to climb. they were fifteen thousand feet when he got the signal to level off. then he pointed to the speaking tube, and the pilot nodded that he would use it if he had anything to say. one o'clock came, and one-thirty. they had been going over an hour. probably the mail was late, for jim was sure the regular plane was a fast bus. her highness could do high speed too, but not with such a load. it was nearly two o'clock when the pilot picked up the tube and gave directions. later he pointed. "there's the field." it was brilliantly lighted and the boy could see figures moving about the drome. as he glided down he noticed men looking at him curiously. he decided that they expected the mail plane and were surprised at his arrival. when he came to a stop a chap ran to the fuselage. "seen anything of mason--the--" "right here, old timer," mason said quickly. "thank the lord. we got word that a blazing plane was sighted, and we've been on pins and needles ever since. a couple of canadians are out trying to locate you." "i'm o. k., and so is the mail, thanks to these youngsters." mason prepared to hop out, and he turned to jim. "you didn't tell me your name. i'm phil mason." "mine's jim austin, and my step-brother is bob caldwell. we've been visiting relatives in vermont," jim explained. by that time bob was out of his seat and a couple of men were removing the bags. "glad to know you lads. you want to bunk here the rest of the night--" "thanks, no, but i should appreciate a supply of gas. i'm not sure i have enough to make the trip back," jim answered. "gas, of course, you can have all you want. here you--" he shouted directions, and a mechanic came on the run. the task of re-fueling was accomplished with efficiency, but the boys had to shake hands with a lot of relieved pilots who were grateful that one of their number was not lying wrecked and helpless miles away. finally they permitted the buddies to go, and this time bob was beside his brother. "want me to pilot, old man?" he offered. "did you get any sleep back there?" jim demanded. "no, i watched the duplicate controls. thought you might need help." "then you sit beside me and take a nap now. if i get so my eyes won't stay open. i'll wake you up and let you do the work," jim promised. "so long, buddies," mason shouted, just as the throttle was opened. bob waved his hand, and jim nodded. taking off on the drome was simple, and in a moment her highness, no longer loaded to the hilt, leaped into the air. "great old girl," jim exclaimed proudly, and the plane responded eagerly. the course was set, and while they went, roaring back toward the northern part of vermont, bob's head nodded and finally dropped forward as sleep overtook him. jim grinned affectionately at the young fellow and made up his mind that he wouldn't disturb that rest if he could possibly help it. the trip home was uneventful but jim did have to blink hard several times to keep his eyes open. however, he managed it, but the first streaks of dawn were softening the sky before the fenton cove met his tired vision. with a whistle of relief that at last it was over, he glided down toward the carriage house, and as the plane shot forward, he heard the house door open quickly. "is that you, boys?" mrs. fenton's tone was distressed. then bob woke up, blinked, and stared. "thunder and mars, why didn't you let me do part of it?" he demanded. "we're all right," jim shouted to aunt belle, and added to his step-brother, "i'll let you have the honor of putting her ladyship up if you like." "you'd better," bob growled. "next time i won't go to sleep. you go in and hop to bed. i'll explain to aunt belle." that arrangement was entirely satisfactory to jim, and in five minutes he was in their room, in ten minutes he was stretched out in his pajamas and sound asleep. it was noon when he opened his eyes. bob was on the second cot and was just turning over. "hello, old timer." "hello yourself. what day is it?" "same one. say, jim did you notice the lake when we got home?" "didn't notice a blooming thing. is the house afloat?" "not yet. it rained some more. woke me up about nine o'clock. i'd thought of going over today and have a talk with hezzy, but i changed my mind," bob announced. "wise lad." "you never did cotton up to hezzy did you?" "not so you could notice it." "well, i've been doing some thinking. seems kind of queer to me that he should have sneaked under those trees yesterday when we were going over. i've been wondering what he was doing on that side of the property. if it was all right, what the heck did he dodge us for?" "ask me another," jim yawned. "did your aunt think we had flown to the bottom of the lake?" "she sure did, but luckily she didn't miss us until she got up. our door was open and she saw the beds--then she got scared for fair and came flying down stairs. about that time we came rolling in. i am glad she didn't have any more time to fret." "same here." just then they heard mrs. fenton come tip-toeing up the stairs and they both closed their eyes tight, then began to snore melodiously. anyone could tell that it was a pretense. "i was just coming to see if you boys aren't ready to have something to eat. you must be starved," she exclaimed. "we are," they wailed. "well, dinner's all ready. you get into your bath-robes and come right down. no one will mind and i guess you deserve some privileges. someone called up this morning to know if you got home all right, and i guess you did more than bob told me." she looked reproachfully at her nephew and shook her finger. "now, hustle up--i've got huckleberry pie--" they were out of bed before the words were fairly uttered, so she hurried back to her duties and the two boys were close at her heels, donning bath robes as they came. they did take time to have a good cold splash, and glance at the lake, which had risen two feet higher. mr. and mrs. fenton tried to look cheerful and to joke during the meal, but it was not a success, for the menacing water creeping steadily toward them had already seeped into the cellar, and on the road in front of the house the boys could see automobiles, trucks, hay wagons, and even a team of oxen hitched to a great cart, plugging slowly forward. the vehicles were every one of them piled high with household effects and the people of the island whose homes were already below the danger line, were looking for a safe place to settle until champlain should recede within bounds. the meal over, the two boys went to the veranda at the back. there was something terrible about the whole situation, and they wondered dully what could be done about it. just waiting was nerve racking. for a minute they watched the water, which was muddy as it thrashed in the rising wind, and beyond the cove they could see branches, whole trees, rails of fences, boxes, and all sorts of wreckage tossed on the waves. "let's get out of sight of it," bob proposed, so they went to the front of the house, but the view there was no less depressing. an old man trudged through the water driving his cow, and right behind him, seated on a queer old carriage was his wife driving a horse that lifted his hoofs wearily and wheezed with every step. at that moment an automobile drove to the door, and a huge man, with a booming voice, stuck his head out of the window. "can i get something to eat here?" "come right in," mrs. fenton answered. the man climbed out clumsily, and right behind him came a smaller man who had been completely concealed by his companion. "this is a blasted neck of the woods," the big fellow bellowed. "let's sit over here," bob suggested. he didn't think the newcomer added anything attractive to the prevailing discomfort. the fellow talked and cussed the weather, but the small man didn't utter a word. it wasn't until they were eating that he ventured to speak. "i told you, burnam, this was a fool's errand," he declared. the big man brought his fist down on the table so hard that the china jumped. "don't i know you did. well, i'm telling you that they are hiding somewhere around here, understand, and i'm going to find them. you can get on the train and go to blazes if you like, see!" the words and the tone made the boys jump, then jim gripped bob's arm. "shhhhsss." he pointed to the end of the veranda. bob looked and was surprised to see corso standing like a statue close to the step. he looked as if something had struck him paralyzed, but he recovered himself in a second, leaped nimbly to the veranda, stepped with amazing swiftness to the window and cautiously peeped in. it was just one brief glance he got of the room and the tourists, but it seemed to be enough. he jumped lightly as a cat to the ground, crouched, then disappeared around the corner of the house. "what do you know about that," bob exclaimed, then added quickly, "don't tell me to ask you another. let's go up and get our clothes on." x danger!! "i say, jim, that was a queer thing for corso to do!" the two were putting the finishing touches on their toilet. from the dining room came the voice of the man called burnam, who seemed to do considerable talking while he ate, but if his companion spoke again, his words were inaudible. "yes. listen, buddy, i think corso knows that lad down there." "maybe he does," bob agreed, but that hadn't occurred to him. "maybe we can help those two. come on down, and if the bounders show a disposition to pump us, let's give them an earful." "great guns, we don't want to tell him they are here--" "of course not, you nut. we'll see what they lead up to. you follow my lead. come along." they raced down stairs quietly and into the dining room. mrs. fenton had finished serving the travelers and had gone to the cellar where she was rescuing preserves. "good car you have," jim remarked, and burnam glanced at him. "pretty good," he admitted. "know anything about cars?" "enough to run a flivver," jim answered modestly. burnam sized them up as a pair of country hicks and smiled broadly. "interesting neighborhood around here," he ventured. "oh, fair," jim drawled. "not many strangers," burnam went on. "a sprinklin', but nobody wants them," jim volunteered. "exclusive community. what do you do with strangers?" "leave 'em alone. there's a colony further up. summer people, most from cities, come every year." "same ones all the time?" "sure. fellow who owns the land won't let 'em bring outsiders," the boy explained taking a chair. "enjoy your dinner?" "fine. ever have any southern people--" "few," jim admitted. "chap i know and his nephew came around here for the fishing. he liked the place. perhaps you know him." "how long has he been coming?" jim asked. "i understand last fall was the first time, come to think of it." "nobody was here last fall," jim declared positively. "what sort of chap is he, about your size?" "no, very slender fellow, dark skin and eyes, rather good looking." jim looked at bob. "maybe it's those ginks," he said scornfully. "sounds like them," bob admitted. "where they stopping?" burnam asked, eagerly. "they ain't," jim grinned, then added, "they tried this neighborhood for a week, then went on into canada. the station agent said their luggage was shipped to toronto." "you don't say." the big man seemed disappointed and the little one smiled behind his napkin. "chap like that wouldn't stay in so small a place," he remarked. "no, i suppose not. well, can i pay you--" "pay my brother," jim answered, and strolled out of the house. in the soft earth he had no difficulty in trailing corso's foot prints and a few minutes later saw the man and the boy crouched in the garden where they were completely hidden from the road. "hello," he said softly. "i told those fellows that you two went to toronto. know where that is?" "i do," corso answered. "i let them ask me questions, then told them you stayed here a week. they are so disgusted with the place i don't think they'll hang around, but you better keep out of sight. i'm going to escort them off the island, but they don't know that." "much in your debt we are, sir," corso said quietly. "we shall not forget, sir." his eyes turned toward the road. "bad men, sir. very, very bad men." "they don't look any too good," jim admitted. "you stay here until one of us comes and tells you they are gone." jim strode quickly back toward the house and as he crossed the road he saw burnam getting into the limousine. "get a move on, dyke," he growled, and the smaller chap hastily took his place. motioning to his step-brother to keep quiet, jim stepped behind the huge maple, and when the car hacked into the road, he hopped onto the spare tires, caught the strap and threw his legs over, ducking his head so that if the men should either of them glance through the window, he would not be seem. the car raced off carrying the stow-a-way. "i told you those lads were in this part of the country," burnam said shrilly when they had gone some distance from stumble inn. "i know just how to handle natives, and i got exactly the information we want." "yes, but how the blazes do you expect to pick up the trail in canada?" dyke demanded in a lower tone. "it'll be easier than in the united states," the big fellow replied, and after that he seemed to concentrate his whole attention on driving, for the road was rough from the rains and the boy in the back was soon splashed thickly with mud. presently they came to the bridge which connected north hero with isle la motte. jim could see that the water had risen until it was splashing through the planking, and dozens of men were working hard to keep it from being washed away. they were bringing the biggest rocks they could haul and were distributing them in piles from one end to the other. young austin hoped anxiously that none of the workmen would call burnam's attention to the extra passenger he was carrying, but they passed over quickly, and if anyone noticed the boy, nothing was done about it. they probably thought him a hiker tired of walking and unable to get a lift on his way. the car sped on to the station, but it was deserted, and jim was mighty thankful that no agent was there to answer inquiries regarding the travelers who were supposed to have gone on to toronto. half a mile ahead the machine had to slow up for a sharp curve, so feeling confident that the pair were really headed for canada, the boy dropped off and started to trudge home. a good-natured farmer gave him a lift, and at last he saw bob anxiously scanning the road. "gosh all hemlock, i was going into the air to look for you. say, come on, quick." he led the way to the water's edge, and far across the thrashing lake jim saw a tiny boat, with an outboard motor on the stern, chugging valiantly against the waves and making for fisher's island. "who is it?" jim demanded. "corso and the boy. i saw them a few minutes after they left the shore. they have a load of stuff aboard as if they intend to hide over there," bob explained. "gee, i wonder if it's safe!" jim said anxiously. "i asked uncle norman and he said the greater part of the land is under water now, but there are high spots that may serve them. let's keep an eye on the place, jim. i think that pair is all right, and gosh, i'd hate like fury to have them carried away in this. just look at it." jim didn't need to look any more than he had for as far as he could see, the wreckage, large and small, was being tossed and dashed to splinters. "so should i. we'll keep watch, then if it looks bad we'll go after them in her highness. i say, did you happen to notice the number of that limousine? i, like a dub, forgot to look at it." "i wrote it down," bob answered proudly, and he produced the figures. "good work. i'm going to call up ruhel and tell him to be on the look-out for that pair. they're no good and the mounties will keep them under observation." he hurried into the house, called long distance, and in five minutes was telling the story to the chief, who listened with interest. "thanks no end, old man. i take it you'd like us to let them roam around here for a while and give your friends a chance." "that's the idea." "we'll keep them hunting. it will do them good. oh, by the way, i say, what time did you lads breeze in to your house this morning--" "don't ask personal questions," jim retorted. "i don't have to, i know. mason came in this afternoon and told the story. you knights had some night. i hope they pin something on you--" "probably they will. we ought to have a lemon. well, thanks for listening." "same to you." the connection was cut off, and jim joined his step-brother on the veranda. "listen, buddy, that watch dog uncle norman bought, died this morning, and now the other one is sick. what do you know about that?" "rotten. wonder if there was anything the matter with them when they arrived, or if some one over there didn't want watch dogs?" "hezzy?" "that's the lad i'm going to keep an eye on. gosh." he jumped to his feet and started to walk toward the garden. "for a quiet little place, we surely have found no end of excitement since we landed." "it hasn't been exactly dull," bob admitted. they went on in silence and at last they reached the edge of the alfalfa meadow. the stones the strange boy had been working with a few days before were neatly arranged in a low wall, and the land above was terraced as if by someone skilled in the art. the whole section which the fenton's had called the bog had been plowed, smoothed on a slight incline toward the lake, which left the garden side lower than that land, and this also was built up with a cleverly set curb of stones. there were three small outlets which acted as drains, and in spite of the heavy rains the land was comparatively dry. "well, anyway, your uncle has got this work to be thankful for. it sure looks like a grand piece of land. perhaps he can plant it with something that he can harvest this season. must be odd to be in a place where the summers are as short as they are here. i'd like to see it in the fall. it must be quite a sight." "i'd like to see it in the winter. mom says the lake freezes over, and the people who live near cut ice, and they can cross to new york, or any place they want to go. they drive, have races and skate," bob volunteered. "we can't stay to see all that," jim said regretfully. "the parents wouldn't stand for it." "no, i know it." "supper," mr. fenton called, and the boys made their way back to the house. they were very thoughtful as they took their places, and the food was eaten in silence. "any more turkey's stolen, uncle norman?" "some were taken last night," the man answered. just then the telephone rang and aunt belle answered. "the norman's are going to stay here all night," she said quietly. "their house is flooded above the kitchen." that evening stumble inn was filled to the brim with neighbors. belated supper was served to refugees who straggled in, and the two boys turned to and helped. they carried down cots, made beds, washed dishes, turned horses into the pasture, and drove cattle into the meadow. it was late at night when they were repairing a place in the fence to be sure that the nervous stock did not break through and get away. when the job was finished, they made their way back to the house, and all along the road they could see tents pitched, or families gathered about their cars or wagons prepared to sleep out of doors. the protection they had was frail and if another storm should come up suddenly half their worldly goods would be swept into champlain. in spite of their dilemma the vermonters were facing their troubles quietly and without a whimper. although there were as many as fifty people within earshot, hardly a sound could be heard. then a child, whose sleeping quarters was under the big maple, cried in fright. the mother tried to hush it, but the little fellow's terror did not diminish. without an instant's hesitation, bob leaned over the wagon. "don't be afraid, little fellow. you come on in and sleep--" "there isn't any room in your aunt's house, bob," the woman answered. "she would have taken us if she could." "come along anyway," bob insisted. he picked the boy up in his arms, while jim offered to help the woman. "i'll be all right here," she answered, "if you can find a place for the children." a little girl raised her head. "come on, old man," bob urged. the boy came to him willingly, and the girl reached her arms out to jim. together the two went to the house. the living-room door was wide open, and there were beds spread out on the chairs as well as the floor. "i put some more beds in your room, boys," aunt belle said softly. "anyone in our cots?" bob asked. "no," she answered. "we'll put the babies on them, aunt belle. you don't mind, do you?" "of course not, bob, but where will you sleep?" "oh, in one of the hammocks--" "you can't, my dear, they are all full." "we'll find a place. aunt belle, maybe you'd better come along. we don't know much about little fellows." they started to climb the stairs and his aunt followed. it did not take long for the little codgers to be tucked in comfortably, and in a moment they were both asleep. it seemed to the boys as if the very air was charged with impending danger as they went down stairs again. some of the vermont men and women were sitting around on newspapers on the lawn. they spoke softly, partly because of their friends trying to rest, and partly because they were making a brave effort to face the disaster courageously. "heard that no more trains can get through," one man remarked. "ed allen's prize sheep ran into the lake and were carried away," said another. "something frightened them." "the lower end of canada is in a bad way. the border men asked for all the milk they could get, even if it's sour." "expect we better do some sort of organizing and see what we have," another proposed. "let's talk it over with fenton." the boys moved on and sat down against the shed. "say jim, know what this makes me think of, these people i mean?" "makes me think of so much, i'm getting brain-storm," jim answered, but his tone was sober. "the history we read--these vermonters. those allen boys. did you know the two towns, north hero and south hero are given those names because of the brothers, and a lot of their original tract of land is still in the families' possession?" "i heard your mother say so. they were a great gang." "sure were. well, i was thinking how these people, some of them members of those old families, still stand shoulder to shoulder. of course most folks are pretty decent when neighbors are in trouble, but here they are also quiet and sure of each other. no wonder they are considered a fine lot. a couple of hundred years ago just a handful of them bucked against the hardships and won out. now, uncle norman and aunt belle are facing ruin maybe, but they are right with their neighbors, ready to share everything they have as long as they have it--you see what i mean--it's a great spirit, i think." "so do i. i say, let's see if we can find a couple of blankets and sleep out here," jim proposed. "suits me," bob agreed. they had no trouble finding bedding and soon they were ready to turn in. before they did, they stood staring off across the black water of lake champlain. "i say, isn't that a light over there on fisher's?" "was just watching it. perhaps it's corso's fire. gosh, that means they're all right and i'm glad of that." they watched the tiny streak of red that burned cheerily in the darkness, but finally they stretched out and were soon asleep. xi the cry for help neither of the boys slept soundly that night. their dreams were troubled by a conglomeration of their experiences since their arrival at north hero, the weird boom of the waves as champlain rose steadily, and a confusion of people going by in search of places of safety. several times men stopped to inquire for lodgings or routes, and it seemed as if a dozen dogs howled gloomily. but above it all, toward morning, there was one sound that came to their subconscious minds and they stirred fitfully as if trying to shake off a nightmare. then suddenly they awoke and sat up. it was still dark, that pitch darkness that is so thick just before the first streaks of dawn brush the sky. "i say, buddy, did you hear anyone call?" jim whispered. "i was just going to ask you the same question," bob answered. "i thought i heard a cry for help." they sat listening tensely, straining their ears to distinguish the call that had broken into their sleep, but could make out nothing more than the sighing of the wind through the bowing trees and the noises they had been hearing before. jim started to slip into his shoes and bob followed his example. "let's get some clothes on, i can't sleep any more, can you?" "no. gosh, jim, this is spooky." they slipped their trousers and sweaters on over their pajamas, without stopping to don shirts. in two minutes they were dressed and made their way carefully to the rim of the water. "we'd better have a flashlight or we'll be stepping into it." "i've got the little one in my pocket." jim took it out and pressed the button. its faint tray cast a round glow, not very bright, but sufficient to show them where to step. austin led the way while bob followed close at his heels and finally they stopped on the edge of a cliff and stood listening tensely. for what seemed like an hour, although it was less than a minute, the world was oddly hushed, as if it too were listening, then, clear and unmistakable from north of them, somewhere on the lake, came a terrified cry and a shout for help. "let's get her highness. somebody's out there," bob whispered, and as fast as they could they ran to the carriage shed, where the plane was bumping the top of her wings on the high roof of the ceiling. in order to get inside the boys climbed through the window on the opposite end, and even then had to wade ankle deep in water. they lost no time in getting ready, just enough to be sure that all was well and there was plenty of gas in the tanks. "all o. k.," jim announced taking the pilot's seat. "right with you. i say, old man, we never can hear anything with the engine going, and we can't see much through this pitch." "i know it, and we don't dare stay on the water or we are likely to get a tree in the works, but we've got to take a chance. that voice sounded as if it's a little north, didn't you think so?" "yes, and sort of far away--muffled." they floated out into the cove, all lights on, and jim gasped as he saw that the wind had changed during the night and the water on that side was dangerously full of wreckage. he set his lips grimly, opened the throttle, raced out over great rollers that teetered them even more than the day they returned from burlington in the storm. her highness lost no time in lifting herself above the danger and soared up two hundred feet as her nose was brought about and her course was set north by north west. anxiously bob leaned over as far as his safety-strap would permit and scanned the blackness beneath them hoping to catch sight of something which would account for what they were seeking. jim sent the plane in wide circles in order to give bob a chance to see as far as possible, and although their lights helped some, they seemed to make the rest of the night even darker. for ten minutes they rode in a fruitless search, each time coming around a little further north. "jim, things i can make out are being carried fast toward the south. perhaps we're too far up," bob said through the tube, and jim nodded. he changed the procedure, while the younger boy watched. five minutes more they circled, then jim decided to climb. he tipped her highness' nose at a sharp angle and zoomed two thousand feet just as fast as she could scramble through the air, then he shut off the motor and let her glide. the lake beneath them seemed a regular bedlam of sound, and as they drifted forward at as gradual a descent as possible, they finally picked up a frantic call. "it's over there," jim exclaimed and his buddy agreed. the plane was so low now that they dared glide no longer, so jim set the engine going full blast as they made for the place. "there's a light." bob clutched his arm and pointed. whoever had cried out evidently had some dry matches or a cigarette lighter and was trying to help them locate him. in a moment they were riding in close circles, and then they made out what looked like the roof of a portable summer house. they couldn't tell what was on top of it, but by that time the morning light began to break slowly. "what the heck can we do?" "tie the lariats together," jim directed. that was but the work of a moment, then bob put a weight on one end of it and threw it over. "if he can grab it, we can give him a tow." jim nodded, so bob leaned over again. "come a little lower." her highness obeyed, and with the help of the speaking tube, they at last managed to get the plane in proper position, and almost instantly there was a tug as the rope was caught. it was evident that since they had come to him the stranded man had been using his head, for he managed to keep from being dragged off the roof, and even made the end of the lariat fast to a rod that stuck out near the metal chimney. "she's coming," bob shouted--"go easy or she'll be banged to bits." sturdily her highness taxied forward just as low as she could. bob kept his eyes on the house they were towing, and several times he caught his breath sharply as a particularly heavy plank, a broken tree, or a drowned animal came thumping into it. as it got lighter, the boy was amazed to see that the roof held more than just the man, who had flung himself on his face, his body sprawled out flat as he kept a woman and a tiny baby from being jarred off. "oh, great guns," bob whistled. "throw off the line," jim directed. they were in the cove now, and already mr. fenton and several men were on the shore, while two strong young fellows were in the row boats, prepared to shove out and help. the waves battered them all angrily, but her highness had to soar up out of the way, and after a few minutes in the air where she waggled her wings gaily over her victory, she was brought down again, and the flying buddies hurried to learn about the man and his family. "are they all right, aunt belle?" bob called as they went into the kitchen. "yes. here, you hold the little fellow a minute, while i stir this." she promptly dumped the baby into her nephew's arms, and jim grinned at his brother's discomfort. "will it break, mrs. fenton?" "break--" she looked at bob and laughed, "no, certainly not, if it can come alive through such a night. they were driven to the roof hours ago because the floors of those cottages are fastened to the ground and can't get away--" "i don't know how i can ever thank you fellows--" said the rescued man as he came into the kitchen. "aw, please don't try. we thought we heard you call, so we went to see what it was all about," jim said quickly, but he had to take the hand that was extended to him. "if i had been alone i wouldn't have howled, but with my wife and baby i had to do anything i could. we were asleep, and it seemed as if an earth-quake gave us a broadside and we were full of water. we just managed to get some blankets to keep the baby warm, and climb through the window. we were on the veranda roof first, but that wasn't very secure, so we got on the main part. it was good we moved, for the other sections were battered off--" "my land sakes alive--how awful. here now, you take this in to your wife and tell her to drink every bit of it like a good girl, and just as soon as i get some more dry things on the baby, she can have him back. he is a cunning little fellow--" bob was no end relieved that his services as a nurse were no longer required. "buster," he chuckled as he handed the baby to his aunt. "my land sakes alive. how did you boys happen to get that man and his folks? i never saw the like--never. i thought you were asleep by the barn, and then, all of a sudden, some one said you were out down the lake and you were coming in slow like. fent got the glasses and saw those folks--my land sakes alive, i never saw the like of it. how did you happen to be out there?" "we couldn't sleep, and we thought we heard someone call, so we went out. reckon we better get dressed, we haven't got much on," he added, because several people were trooping into the kitchen and he didn't want to be the center of an admiration meeting. "come down as soon as you're ready and have breakfast. you must be most starved both of you." there is nothing like an early morning rescue party to sharpen the appetite, so the boys did not take long to get ready. jim went down first and just as he came into the living room, the telephone, which was a party line, gave a long persistent ring. "that's forever ringing," mrs. fenton called to him. "will you answer it? i can't put down the baby for a minute." "glad to." jim took down the receiver and heard the operator. "please do not try to use your telephone until further notice, unless the call is _very_ important. the lines are congested. the selectmen have given orders that no one is to try to cross the bridges--either at the north or south end of north hero island. please tell people on the road they cannot go any further." the girl repeated the same thing three times to be sure that everybody got it, then there came a click as she closed the connection. austin gave the message to mrs. fenton, who sighed heavily. "my land sakes alive--there, there, you are almost ready, little fellow. this is a nice baby! now you can go to your mother." she hustled the infant to his parents and then hustled back to serve her hungry household. during the meal two serious-faced men came to the house. "we heard that your nephews dragged in a family that might have been drowned, fent," one of them started. "yes they did," mr. fenton admitted and introduced the boys to the men, who shook hands gravely. "i've heard that there are some families stranded on the islands, and it may be that some of the summer colonies have suffered just as that family you brought in. we were wondering if you will help us get any others, if there are any. we have several good strong power boats, but we would waste a great deal of time trying to locate people and might not find them all." "if you will fly around and watch for signal fires or flags, then we could send the boats directly and take them off," the other added. "of course we'll be mighty glad to help," bob declared promptly. "thank you. another thing, there may be some who haven't had much to eat for a couple of days, not being able to use their boats. could you drop food to them?" "sure thing," jim replied. "we'll take some weights along because we don't usually carry anything like that. we just happened to have one this morning or we might not have been able to give that fellow a tow." "thank you. we'll arrange to have boats and rafts at four points of the island. if you find anyone, give the word to the nearest party. i'll show you about where they are." he took a map from his pocket and pointed to four places that would be used for stations. "you can come down on the water to speak to the men we'll have there?" "yes, we'll manage." "that will be good. we appreciate your help." then he turned to mrs. fenton. "my wife and some of the neighbors in the village are packing boxes of food, sandwiches, coffee and milk. we'll send a truck--it ought to be here in a quarter of an hour--and the boys can take it with them and use their own judgment about dropping it." "i can fix them some--" "judging by the number of people you have taken in i think that you are doing your share, mrs. fenton. we won't ask you to do any more," the man replied. "now, i'll telephone to the boatmen--" "they just told us not to use the phone," jim explained. "they will give me a connection," the man smiled. in a minute he was giving information, directions and instructions, and finally the rescue work was well organized. by the time the boys were ready to take off, the truck appeared with boxes of food, and the chauffeur helped them store it in the plane. "we're lucky to have you fellows here," the man said, when finally the task was accomplished. "we're in luck to be here," bob grinned. "my mother always said that i'd like this place, and i do." "come along." jim waved to the men, opened the throttle and her highness tore across the cove, rose and started on her errand of mercy. she seemed to appreciate the importance of the work before her, and never did an airplane behave more beautifully. they went circling north on the lake and were about to turn when bob shouted through the tube. "there's a raft load, look at it!" jim glanced in the direction his step-brother pointed and saw the crude raft being whirled like a top and it was a marvel that the thing held together. the boys saw two boys, young fellows, some household effects, and a little girl. austin glanced at the map, picked out the nearest station, and they raced to it, coming down where the water happened to be fairly smooth. "there's a raft out there," bob shouted. instantly the engine of the power boat gave a bellow almost as furious as the plane's, and off the party scooted, cutting through the waves and sending a rolling sheet of foam on either side of them. her highness raced back to be sure the rescuers did not miss their goal, and in a few minutes the first job was being done well. "not a bad stunt," bob grinned and then the flying buddies started to work again. they discovered families huddled on tiny bits of land that had been cut off by the water, others on great rocks and a number on floating buildings that threatened to fall to pieces any minute. each time they led the way for the power-boats and had the satisfaction of knowing that all were saved. about noon the four power-boats were out, besides several smaller motor-boats and the boys spied two more families stranded helplessly, so they decided to drop food. "i'll tell them the men will come for them," bob announced. he proceeded to write the message in the box and dropped it over. in that particular group they counted ten people, so they dropped more boxes. then on they circled. the men of the party waved their thanks and an hour later, her highness returned, escorting the boats. the work went on for hours until finally one of the men at a station shouted, "mrs. fenton says that you fellows must come and eat." "we'll stay a while longer--" "no, you mustn't. you show us this bunch, then go home and tank up. it's the selectmen's orders and you have to obey." "all right," jim agreed, then he looked at the dial. it was half past one and he could hardly believe his eyes. so the orders were obeyed, and her highness too had to be tanked up for her gas supply was dangerously low. in the afternoon the boys went up again, and although they circled miles they discovered only two more people who needed rescuing, then bob, who was piloting, had an idea. "i say, buddy, i'm going to hop down on fisher's island and find corso." "we saw them earlier and they were all right," answered jim. "i know, but they might not be by morning. let's just make sure." "suits me," jim acquiesced. her highness was brought about and was soon circling over fisher's island, which was more than half submerged, but it did not look as if anyone on it would be in any immediate danger. soon bob picked out a landing spot on an open space where the ground was high and fairly smooth. presently the plane was on the ground, and the boys began to look about. it did not take them long to locate the foreign man, who came to meet them. "burnam left?" he questioned anxiously. "he surely did. went on to canada, and he can't get back because both bridges are closed until the flood goes down," jim explained. "it is good that he is gone, but we cannot get away," corso said, and he scowled thoughtfully. "it may not be many days before he discovers that you tricked him, then he will come back. he is very determined." "i guess it must be pretty bad with you if you feel that way," bob put in quickly. he couldn't help wondering why the man was afraid. "it is much bad, sirs." "tell you what, we'll take you across to new york. will that help?" jim offered cordially. "it would be much help. come." he led the way through a strip of woods and around a boulder, where the man stopped, gave a low whistle, waited for a response, then they went on and in a minute they came to a well sheltered spot where the trees grew high and thick and the cliff formed a semi-circle protection with an overhanging top. "whew," whistled bob in astonishment. back from the opening stood the mysterious boy, straight as a die, but instead of overalls and brown shirt, he wore a long white garment of some very fine material, and over that was a richly embroidered coat, brilliant with peacock-feather trimming. on his head was a deep fringe arrangement and at his feet a strong box. the lid was open and its contents made the brothers think of some arabian night treasure. "you signaled, my uncle!" he spoke in perfect english, and the man answered, briefly in their own tongue, whatever that was. "it is well," the boy nodded. then he turned toward jim and about his lips was a faint smile. "it was considered best that i do not permit it to be known that i understand your language." "holy hoofs, and we were being little helpfuls trying to teach you," jim exploded. "you have been most generous to us, also the fentons." "well, we're glad to have been," bob replied a bit weakly. "my uncle knows men and i too recognize those who are trustworthy, even though i am only twelve years old--" "only twelve. why, you are as tall as i am." "today i am twelve. because of your great kindness i shall impart to you a little about the reason i am here, if you are interested--" "i say, we've been busting to know ever since we first saw you, but you needn't tell us a thing unless you want to," jim assured him. "you need bust no longer." across the boy's face a smile flashed. "let us be seated. we shall be free from interruption." he spoke as if he were some great personage giving an audience, but there was something about his whole bearing that made the step-brothers have perfect faith in him. they seated themselves on the ground close to him, while his uncle stood on guard. "maybe you better close this," bob suggested. "we didn't see anyone else on the island, but you never can tell. is that what burnam's after?" "burnam is after much more than this," replied the boy, and he dropped the lid, shutting the contents from sight. "i was born in a far land. its name i shall keep. five hundred years ago my people were great rulers of a happy nation. it was ruthlessly invaded, conquered, and great works wantonly destroyed. a few of my fathers escaped destruction, they tried to get back their land but their efforts were fruitless. later, they united secretly and hid their vast treasure which the conqueror could never find. they kept together generation after generation, although few outsiders are aware that any of the pure blood are alive." the boy paused, but his audience made no comment. "in my conquered land there is a beautiful statue to one of my blood who fought successfully and helped free the nation from the devastator's yoke." a gleam of pride shone in the boy's eyes. "did they get it back?" bob whispered. "no, but they got rid of the--the yoke. in the generations the number of men of my race has grown. it is now like a vast army, secretly governed by wise men. many are scattered in different countries, learning the best of the white men's way of living, keeping the best of their own knowledge of life. there are still parts of my country that are unsettled, and one day we shall unite there. we shall be versed in the greatest sciences, and never again can we be conquered or put to rout by ignorance or brute force--we shall be the conquerors, and we shall rid ourselves of the waste races as your uncle rids the garden of rank worthless weeds that would choke and smother the good about them." there was no malice in the boy's tone, no bravado in his manner, he spoke impersonally and without bitterness. his eyes shone with a fine intelligence, he made his statements quietly, and once his eyes wandered to the horizon as if they beheld that future. "accurate records are being kept by every generation and brought together. i have been taught the ancient arts of my fathers, i have worked with the soil as my fathers did, and now that i am twelve years old, i am ready to study the sciences, the languages, higher mathematics--the classics." he broke off a moment, then went on. "i may not live to see the establishment of my race, it may not come for hundreds of years, but it will come when we are fully prepared to take the reins and hold them firmly." his eyes rested first on bob, then jim. "whether it is years hence, or centuries, because of what you have done for one of our princes, the men of your tribe, james austin, and of yours, bob caldwell, will be spared, even though they be inferior, they will be given a chance. i have spoken, and my uncle has written it into the records." "gosh," bob gasped. "if they aren't any good, don't bother with them." his face flushed suddenly, he didn't know why, but he felt that weeds of all kinds should be destroyed. "now, before you take us to new york, i will give you each a token. give it to your son, and your son's son, and on, for one day it will find its way back to my land." he opened the box, drew out two large green stones. they were oblong in shape, some marks had been worked into them, and into a groove in one side was a tiny many-colored tube of exquisite enameling. the boy pressed an invisible spring and the tube opened revealing a slip of parchment covered closely with fine writing. "i say--" jim started to protest, but the boy paid no attention to him. "keep these always, they are fine emeralds. here are smaller pieces." he picked up two rings. "wear these and wherever you are seen by any of my people you will be helped and protected." he handed the jewels to his amazed companions, then went on, "mr. fenton has been losing his turkeys. watch the man who is taking care of them, watch him closely." "thundering rattlers, is he the thief?" "he is a naturally dishonest man. watch him closely and you will learn what happened to the turkeys." "thanks a lot, old man--gee, uncle norman will be no end obliged to you, and gosh, he is already, for that bog you drained is still dry--" "it will remain dry--" the boy assured him. "maybe we'd better be starting," jim suggested, "that is, if you are in a hurry to get to new york." "we shall be glad to hurry." "i say," jim put in, "you know, maybe i'm a nut, but if you people, i mean you and your uncle, would kind of act like ordinary people, not wear anything that looks a bit different, or act as if you are trying to keep out of sight, you wouldn't attract attention--nobody would pay any attention to you at all, except maybe in a little place like north hero, where everybody knows everybody else," he finished hurriedly. the boy sat thoughtfully for a moment, then he smiled and held out his hand. "thank you, it is excellent advice." "when you are by yourselves you can act naturally, i mean as you do anyway, but you look as if you are different, you seem to know more--" "thank you, we will do that, and i hope we meet again, jim austin and bob caldwell." "if you come to texas, look us up. this is where we live." he gave the boy a card, with the address scrawled on the back. "we will get ready," corso interrupted. "well, i say, where does this burnam come in?" jim asked. "he was employed to do some task for one of our people and he suspected that somewhere great wealth must be stored. he saw me once in my father's house. when his work was done, he was paid and dismissed, and taken away, so that he could not find the place again, but he came upon my uncle and myself on your western coast. he believes that i know the secret and tried twice to kidnap me, but he has failed each time, and he will fail again, for it is written in the forecasts that i shall live to a great age and that my enemies shall perish. one day you found a box, it held knotted strings. long before writing, or signs, tribes made their records by that method, i know the language of the knots in the colored strings." "why, i've read of that, learned it in school, old language," bob exclaimed with enthusiasm. xii detectives "i say, what a pair of nuts we are. we don't know that boy's name." jim, who was in the passenger seat beside his step-brother, made the announcement with disgust. bob made a grimace. "we do take first prize. do you think that pair are batty?" "not as batty as some of the rest of us," jim declared emphatically. "that's what i think. i say, let's not do any talking about them. you know, sometimes a little thing starts things and evidently this burnam bird isn't letting any grass grow under his feet." "that's a first-rate idea." they had just left corso and his nephew in one of the small towns in the northern part of new york state, and the couple had taken a train south. now the boys were about ready to return to north hero. "i'm telling the cock-eyed world that we are landing on the turkey farm and somebody's going to talk turkey. it won't be us," bob declared. "atta boy. you know, buddy, we agreed with what that boy said just because we've been suspicious of hezzy all along, but we couldn't convince your uncle nor any of the selectmen on anything as thin as that. we've got to get something on the fellow; something no one will be able to think isn't real proof." "that's right," bob acknowledged. "it's getting kind of late. suppose we drop down there. if hezzy's around we can get the lay of things, and maybe find evidence enough so uncle norman can act on it. we'll have to be mighty careful, or burley will be suspicious." "we might say we need a little gas, that our tanks are empty," jim suggested. "and ask about the dog, if he's getting over that sickness." "yes, that's the idea. i've been wondering--if hezzy is getting away with the turkeys, he wouldn't want a good watch dog around. i've got a kind of hunch we'd better be ready to act with a snap." "suits me. let her go." bob opened the throttle and presently they were in the air, each thinking soberly of what might be before them. as jim recalled the weird experiences of the afternoon and the interview with the foreign boy, it all seemed mighty unreal, but he had to admit that the emerald ring on his middle finger was not a dream, and the jewel in his shirt pocket pressed against his chest was substantial enough. the air was heavy with clouds that hung low, and the boy knew that another storm was brewing. he hoped it wouldn't be a bad one, for the vermonters had already suffered terrific loss because of the late rains and the flooding lake which was sweeping everything before it. looking down he could see the thrashing waves, and the whimsical idea came to him that the lake was determined to go somewhere. "a river has more fun," he grinned to himself. bob's mind was fully occupied with his job of piloting, but it did not take long to cross champlain. it was dark enough now so that homes were being lighted up. the bright window squares began to look like jewels suspended on a rapidly darkening background. in a little while night would be upon them. as they approached isle la motte they were riding five thousand feet up, and suddenly jim noticed two other planes flash through the clouds from the north. he wondered if it was their friend the mail pilot, but the hour was not right, and besides there would not be two. he touched bob on the arm, and pointed. "there's a couple of planes." bob picked them out a moment later, then both boys sat tense and astonished as they noticed that the flying machines were circling above the eastern side of the turkey farm. through breaks in the mist the boys saw that the machines were both large ones, big enough to carry considerable freight or several passengers. why they should be maneuvering through the clouds above isle la motte was puzzling, so bob, as he watched them, guided her highness in a wide circle a thousand feet higher. he was confident their presence would not be observed or heard as long as the other engines were racing. keeping the planes within their range of vision was difficult, and several times they lost sight of them, but succeeded in picking them up again. jim had his eyes fast to the glasses, and suddenly he made out a man standing upright on one of the wings. a second man jumped out of the cock-pit and joined the first, then a third and a fourth got on to the other side of the fuselage. it took an instant for the boy to guess what they were going to do, then he shouted. "they are going to jump!" "over the lake." "the farm. i'm going after them." as soon as the words were out of his mouth he was busy with the safety straps, and as he unbuckled himself he noticed their lariats coiled about the hooks. instinctively, but with no idea for what he might use them, the young ranch boy reached for the long plaited leather ropes. it was natural to have them in his hands, and he hopped out of the cock-pit. "i'll land over there and join you as fast as i can," bob bellowed, and although jim could understand only one or two of the words, he guessed the rest and nodded. he glanced down again and by that time counted five figures dropping through the clouds, but instead of white silk parachutes blossoming out above them, the huge umbrellas were some dark color which was soon lost in the haze. without waiting any longer, jim hopped over, while bob maneuvered to keep out of his way, then the pilot turned about and started for the nearest shore of the lake. while dropping through the air toward the fenton turkey farm, jim's brain was working like a trip hammer. his parachute was white and therefore conspicuous. he did not want to land before the other jumpers nor did he want to be too near them. as soon as he was clear of her highness, he pulled the cord, and calling to his mind a detailed picture of the property, he guided himself far enough to the north so that he would be over the forest. he hoped that the others would be too occupied in their own arrival to do much looking around. the parachute floated him gently, and by spilling air carefully, he managed to keep from, being carried from the course he wanted to follow. sometimes the mist was so thick that he couldn't see a thing in any direction, and then he would be drifting through breaks light enough so that he could keep his bearings. his drop was a thousand feet more than the men he was interested in, and each one of them, he noticed, let himself go more than half of the distance before pulling the cords which opened the "chutes." "wow, there are more," the boy exclaimed and he counted ten tumblers. "what in heck are they up to?" he couldn't answer the question and he didn't try, but concentrated all his attention in observing as much as possible. the first man landed on the smooth space which was familiar to jim, and he saw someone coming to meet the new arrival. the chap looked amazingly like hezzy, and the boy whistled. he saw the fellow free himself from his trappings, then the pair scooted out of sight. by the time jim was nearly ready to land, he had seen the ten drop out of the fog, and each one scooted away as quickly as possible. the boy glanced beneath and saw he was coming to what looked like a grove of young maples or willows, and he smiled with satisfaction. they were not very tall and promised him a safe landing. in a moment more it was made, then he too ducked out of the straps as fast as his fingers could unbuckle them. expertly he folded the "umbrella" and hung it where he could find it again, then made his way stealthily toward the clearing. the fog was rolling from the east but did not seem inclined to settle, and that helped him a lot. at the edge of the woods, his lariat in hand, he stood trying to pick out the spot on which the men had landed. at last he discovered it, and he made another discovery. just a few feet below where he was standing was the edge of a long, narrow fine-wire enclosed pen, such as were made for young turkeys on the other side of the farm. "the mystery begins to clear," he muttered softly. stepping carefully so he would start not the slightest commotion he made the way toward the pen, and then he saw there was a shelter over a large section. the place was built of old boards and seemed to have been made to appear as inconspicuous as possible. listening tensely, jim was sure that he could hear the queer noise young turkeys make, but he didn't dare to scrutinize more closely. he was determined to find where hezzy and the ten men were located. it occurred to him that they might be already making their way to the old farm house, which was certainly big enough to accommodate them all without crowding, but at the same time he had a hunch that an investigation of his immediate surroundings would be more to the point for the present. before going any further jim listened for the planes, but not an engine roared in the skies. he thought that the two had proceeded away from the place as soon as their passengers discharged themselves and the boy wondered if these men landing on isle la motte had anything to do with the gang which allen ruhel and bradshaw had raided. the officers had said that a few got away, but of course they could not know how many. these might be left-overs who had been compelled to keep in hiding until they arranged for a safe get-away from canada. the more he thought, the more suppositions flashed through his brain. suddenly he heard a muffled step, as if made by a man walking cautiously in rubber boots and the boy dodged quickly behind the biggest tree, then dropped to his stomach and made a tiny opening in the underbrush so he could look through. for a breathless minute he waited, then into his range of vision came two men, one wearing an all-over aviation suit. "one of the ten," jim grinned to himself, "and friend hezzy." they were coming toward the pen, and the poultry man's face was black with scowls. "i got them here all right," he muttered, "but how can i get them away? where in blazes is pedro?" "now, keep your shirt on, can't you? you've got the birds, nobody knows a thing about them, and we'll get them away as fast as we can. i don't know where pedro is, i told you, but i think he's in the states here somewhere. one of the boys discovered that the mounties, blast them, are hanging around the ravine. we can't go in it, but we do know that some of the gang went off with the canuck. he's probably helping to keep them under cover. you look after your end here--" "well, i've been looking after my end, but blast it all, how can i keep the gang--ten new ones, under cover? the islands are half of them under water. know what that means?" "sure, they won't be bothering you," the air-man answered promptly. "that's where you ain't got a grain of sense. there's probably a hundred people got their homes washed from under them. everybody will be making room for them--and there isn't a house in isle la motte will take care of so many. the fenton's will offer it--if they haven't already fixed to fill it up," hezzy growled furiously. "whew, that's so, but they ain't likely to bring 'em across tonight, that's sure. they can't use the bridges even to walk on, and no north hero man will bring a boat across until the lake isn't so rough, that's a cinch. you sit tight and keep a watch so you can slip 'em out if anyone shows up. this'll be a grand place to stay tonight, and in the morning some of the planes will be back, then we can make a get-away, part of us, before daylight. what do you want to do over here?" "see that the water pans are filled," hezzy replied sullenly. "all right, go to it, i'll cross to the house and catch up with the other fellows. don't hang around too long--" "i gotta see they're all right for the night or they'll be dying on me," hezzy insisted. the pair separated, and jim watched the strange man strike off through the dusk, while the poultry man made his way further along the turkey pen. "now," whispered jim. he jumped to his feet as nimbly and quietly as a cat, and tip-toed after the air-man. half a dozen plans bobbed into the boy's mind, but none seemed feasible. if he could only capture the pair while they were separated he might accomplish something, but how, was the question. he hesitated a moment as he thought of going back and fastening hezzy in the temporary turkey house, but that didn't seem good because he was sure the man could break his way out. by that time the stranger was almost across the clearing, and then the boy made a decision. swiftly he ran, being careful to make no noise, and as he drew closer the lariats in his hand were being looped into shape. it was only the work of a moment to coil one, then taking a quick jump forward, the boy cast the loop. it swished low along the ground straight to its goal, rose over the fellow's foot as he made a step, then jumping behind a small tree, the boy jerked it taut and the chap went down on his face with a hard thump. "hope he landed on a rock," jim muttered as he hauled it expertly. it was evident that the fellow had knocked the wind out of himself in his fall, for he did not struggle, and in a second jim was standing over him, trussing him tightly like a chicken. "he--grr--" austin's handkerchief was stuffed into his mouth just in time to prevent further explosives. "grr, yourself," jim grinned pleasantly. at last assured that the fellow was helpless, the boy rolled him to a tree, and fastened him to that so he could not get away. "now, ta-ta," he said softly, and taking a last glance at the knots, he hurried back toward the pen where he hoped to capture the unsuspecting hezzy. he wished he had another rope, but he hadn't, so he picked up a good stout stick and a couple of rocks. thus armed, he ran at top speed, then he stopped suddenly and gasped. he saw hezzy was not alone. there was another chap with him, and the other chap was putting up a rattling good fight, although burley was bound to be the victor. down the pair went and jim recognized that pair of arms and legs. it was bob. in a moment he would be out. "howling pole cats," jim yelled. hezzy glanced over his shoulder toward the new attacker, but the stick came down on his head with a sickening thud and he stretched out beside his would be victim. "little jimmy, my brother. let me kiss you--" "i'll knock your block off. how did you happen to get into the scrap?" "was coming valiantly to save you from destruction when i stumbled on this pen." the boy got to his feet, then sat down on his enemy. "started to do a bit of rubbering when our esteemed friend arrived. he was very rude, in fact be promised to send me to hell, i believe he called the place." "thoughtful of him. well, i've got the big boss, i think, tied up back there with our ropes. better let me have your belt so we can arrange hezzy as safely." belts and neckties were used to secure the man's hands and feet, and into his mouth was stuffed a gag to keep him from getting boisterous, then the step-brothers took a minute to discuss the situation. "tell you what," jim proposed finally. "you go back for her highness, and land her down here. i'll strike a match so that you can drop close, then we'll give these boys a ride to north hero. the selectmen can lodge them in jail away from all danger, and somebody else can come later and collect the gang in the house." "guess that's the brightest plan, buddy," bob agreed, and he set off to get the plane. half an hour later they dropped down in the cove, and as one of the selectmen was at the fenton's, he heard the charge, and arrested the pair without further ceremony. "my land sakes alive, bob, why, it just don't seem possible hezzy--" "well, we have the goods on him, aunt belle, and let me tell you something. there are hundreds of turkeys in that pen over there, guess your loss won't be so bad after all. gosh, i'm glad--" "well--er--gosh, bob, i am too--now then, there goes the telephone. you answer it, i'm so excited i can't talk straight." bob went, and after listening a moment he repeated. "yes, now, is this right? you have a telegram from texas, that five thousand dollars has been deposited in the burlington bank for mrs. fenton because my mother, that is, mrs. austin, read of the flood and thought her sister could use it. right?" a pause, "thanks!" the boys hung up and turned to his aunt who was leaning helplessly against the door frame. "get that, aunt belle!" she gave a little choking sob, and big tears ran down her cheeks. "yes, bob--i did--that's just like your mother--she wouldn't even take the--time to find out if we needed it--b-but just sent it so we could have it--" "of course," jim laughed. "that's just like her, i know. she's bully." "my land--why my land, you haven't had a bite of supper, you must be starved." then she flew about to get it ready and bob turned on the radio. "weather report. fair and warm, tonight and tomorrow," he announced. "good news," mr. fenton remarked as he came into the room. "we've got so much good news," his wife beamed. but before the boys got a chance to eat the meal, the selectmen came, three of them, and asked to be taken across to isle la motte. they wanted to round up the men in the old house before they could get away, so jim took them over. there wasn't even a fight, and it didn't take the officers long to learn that the ten were men who had come across the border without authority, and they were hand-cuffed, placed under guard, and held for deportation. "we're much obliged, young man," one of the selectmen smiled at the boy and held out his hand. "you've done a lot for all of us and we hope that you will stay with us as long as you can." "oh, thank you. if you don't need me any more, i'll fly back or bob won't leave me a smell of supper." "fly away. i think by morning the bridges will be safe so we can use them, but if they are not, and you'll pay us a visit here, i'll be further in your debt--yours and the plane's." it didn't take long for jim to get home, and he found that there was still plenty to eat. when he had "tanked up" comfortably, he glanced at the green emerald ring on his finger, then at his brother. "say, buddy, suppose we'll ever be lucky enough to meet that kid again?" "i have a big hunch we will," bob declared with satisfaction. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) [illustration: transfixed, rooted to his tracks, chick gasping, stared.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the ghost of mystery airport by van powell [illustration] the saalfield publishing company akron, ohio new york ------------------------------------------------------------------------ copyright mcmxxxii the saalfield publishing company the ghost of mystery airport made in the united states of america ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the ghost of mystery airport chapter i a pilot who liked spooks "scared?" "not a bit!" garry duncan, just behind the pilot who had asked the question, answered it in his usual, cool manner. behind him in the three-place open cockpit biplane, his thirteen-year-old chum displayed none of his calm. "i'm scared!" chick cried as the pilot cut down his throttle. chick raised his voice to a tremulous shout, "scott--turn back." the man at the controls laughed. "don't be a baby!" he counseled. "just because you see a cloud begin to look shimmery--the first sign of the ghost, according to all the pilots who have seen it--don't lose your nerve." "but--this ghost hunt might be dangerous," chick began to plead. "c-can't you--scott, can't you t-turn and go out on the bay?" "no. i cut the gun too much and the engine died. we have to glide in, dead-stick, to the best landing we can." there was no regret in the pilot's voice. he proposed to carry through his purposes. "but--" chick was hopeful as he offered an argument, "in the dark here, the swamp is dangerous--you might miss water and you'd get the wings torn in the grass." he added quickly, "or you may get our pontoons bogged--" as the airport searchlight made a cloud glow he cried, "yes--bogged down in the ooze." he expected to see the ship bank, indicating that his hint was being acted on. instead the ship's nose went down. scott, with a little laugh of amusement at chickering brown's fears, found additional terrors for the youngest of the pair with them. "yes," he agreed, "and then the spectre that always appears in the clouds might fly down on us and say 'boo!'" he turned, as they glided, high above the swamp. "how about it, garry? wouldn't that be awful?" garfield duncan, fifteen-year-old student-pilot and assistant to an airport manager's nephew, answered seriously. "terrible!" he agreed, "but it would be chick's own fault. he was so interested in the mystery that he vowed he wouldn't be scared." "well!" chick hoped for one means of allaying his fears--light. "why don't you throw over a landing flare, scott! it's pitchy-black down in the marsh." "scott will get us down, even without power." garry voiced his confidence in the test pilot who knew the channels and open water spaces like a book. "great scott," as they had nicknamed him, made many test flights for the american branch of a foreign seaplane manufacturer; of late, since an airport had been inaugurated in connection with the seaplane "base," scott had flown over the marsh at night, conducting tests of new lighting equipment, spotlight, searchlight and beacon. "if you're afraid," he added, "try whistling, chick, my boy! i've heard that ghosts won't come around if you whistle." usually garry did not tease his younger chum; but chick had been so confident of his own bravery, had so insistently begged to be one of the "spook trappers," that chick's terror in the face of darkness--and of nothing worse, so far--prompted him to be a little sarcastic. "it's all very well to sneer," said chick. "i wasn't scared, back in the design room--but here--" he stopped. they had been filing blue-prints in the plant of an italian aircraft building company when scott, its test pilot, had come quietly into the blue-print room where garry made the multitudes of blue-prints from pen drawings for the many detailed parts of the company's product. the secrecy of his entrance had fascinated garry's more youthful companion, who filed the blue-prints and sketches. chick had caught a hint of something secretive about scott; it had fired his ready imagination and he had been so eager to hover close that scott, after a moment of hesitation, had included him in the proposal he had made. "you both realize how serious that sky spook scare has come to be," he had whispered. "i wasn't going to say anything to chick, because he's pretty young--" at once chick had denied the insinuation, "--all right, chick," scott had continued. "just the same, i wasn't going to include you--but it may help, at that--if you are 'game' and not scarey." assured of chick's absolute bravery and perfect gameness the test pilot had suggested that he wanted to "get to the bottom--or top--of the spook business." "ever since the first pilot cracked up," he had said, "and explained that he thought he saw a spooky-looking crate flying straight at him out of a cloud, i've thought he was trying to 'cover up' his own carelessness with that story. the next one to see 'it' must have caught the scare and had an overdose of imaginittis. but it has gotten into the newspapers and they call the new airport 'mystery airport.' it's ruining business for don mcleod's uncle, and i'd like to help him out by proving that there isn't any ghost ship flying in and out of the clouds to make a pass at every pilot whose firm gives the new airport its business." garry had agreed with scott's theory that some hidden enemy was trying to ruin the airport's business, and hamper its growth. readily he had consented to help scott with his simple plan, which required that with scott the two youths would fly, that night, inviting the appearance of the ghostly, or human apparition, at which time scott felt confident that he could run down the culprit and end the scare before it further harmed the morale of the flying force or resulted in the loss of contracts for air line hangar space and landing and take-off fees. the eagerness with which chick had seconded the plan, his pleading to be included in the airplane's passengers as an observer and signalman, his stout declarations of his complete fearlessness, had suddenly become empty boasts when the three-place ship had reached the vicinity of the swamps adjacent to the airport but not yet drained and prepared for filling in. eventually the greater part of the swamps would be changed into good ground. engineers were already preparing to drain away the salt tides flowing in from long island sound and little neck bay. unless the unexplained mystery of the spectral sky denizen could be settled, it seemed unlikely that the swamp land need ever be reclaimed for airport expansion. scott, for years the hangar supervisor and chief test pilot for the airplane construction plant and seaplane base which had existed before the airport project in combination with them had been started, was very anxious, it seemed, to end the ghost scare. with his two youthful aides, confident garry and shivering chick, he made a good descent to the surface of a wide sheet of enclosed, shallow water, let the amphibian craft, which could make either earth or water landings, run out of momentum, and then sat back, loosening his helmet chin straps. "here's the full plan," he turned around in the cockpit in the dark, salty-smelling marsh, silent except for the plash of a leaping fish or the cry of a gull seeking a belated dinner, "i didn't want to be seen talking too long at the plant. you never know who 'might be'--you know!" "i understand," admitted garry. "let's hear it all." "i went to don as soon as i left you--and he's managed to get mr. mcleod to let him go aloft in the dart." he referred to a light, fast two-seater, the personal property of the airport manager, which his seventeen-year-old nephew had secured for the evening. "now, don is as good an amateur pilot as you'll find; but he lacks stunting experience. he will come here, set down, and then i'll take the dart and keep it warmed up and ready, while don, with you two for observers, will go up and cruise around--and invite mr. ghost to come at you!" chick shivered and muttered under his breath. "if mr. spectre shows up, you signal to me----" "i know." garry recalled arrangements used in other night communications, during night tests. "if the spook appears in the clouds, we set off a red flare. if 'it' takes off from the ground, we give you a green verey signal and you'll be able to catch anything slower than greased lightning in that dart--and drive down the ghost and prove it's only some human person, after all." "well, that's what i hope to do." "sup--supposing it isn't a h-human being?" "that would tickle me to pieces, chick, old top," laughed the pilot. "i'd sort of like to have it turn out that way. why? because i never shook hands with a ghost, and it ought to be a right nice experience." "he--it would scare you out of your togs!" scoffed chick. "oh, no!" scott assured him. "spectres, if they really do exist, can't hurt you. it's only your fear that can do you any harm. now, i like spooks!---" "yes?" garry pointed up toward the july night sky. "well, there's one! go up and get acquainted. we'll wait here!" he had meant to joke, to terrify chick; but he became silent and a trifle awed. there was--something!--black against a luminous summer cloud! chapter ii the airplane guard shuddering, terrified, chick clung to garry's steady arm as he gazed upward. one of the clustered clouds seemed to be picked out from the others by a phosphorescent glow: it was luminous but not fiery; whitish in tint rather than ruddy. out of it came a silent, gliding, dark shape--an airplane! for a brief interval garry felt his own blood chilling. that spectral shape was very much like the mental pictures he had visualized after he had listened to the story of the pilot who had cracked up because of a similar apparition. then the real explanation flashed into his mind. he gave a relieved laugh. "hooray!" he cried in the still, dark cockpit seat, "the ghost of the skies is explained." "so it is!" agreed scott, the pilot. "don't--" began chick; but his own words died as he saw that they were not facing any supernatural appearance. the light died out of the cloud as the airplane, a lightly-built and fast-moving craft, came steadily lower, closer. it was real! "it's don!" said garry, reassuringly. "yes, it is don, all right," agreed chick, his own fears gone. garry watched the light ship make its approach, silent but genuine and then gave chick a brief lecture. "i'm glad you came, after all--aren't you?" he remarked. "now you can see for yourself that every scare that seems to be started by spooks is all in the way you judge what you see." "it's that way just this time," admitted chick grudgingly. "the darkness, and the swamp, and all the talk made me think i saw a ghost ship coming out of a lighted cloud." "certainly," agreed garry, "and you thought that, because you heard somebody else say that was how the ghost appeared. but it turns out to be don in the dart, coming down out of the sky just when the control man at the airport had his searchlight switched on and turned it past the clouds." "for my part," scott informed the two chums, "i don't think the first crack-up happened because the pilot saw a real 'bus." "i do," argued garry. the talk ceased as the light ship came swiftly down, across the marsh, dropping lower, leveling off, setting its pontoon body lightly into the water. if not as experienced, in point of years, as scott, the seventeen-year-old junior flyer at the dart's controls was as expert. landings in daylight, night conditions, or in darkness, were easy for don: because of a season of timidity concerning "getting down," at the start of his flying practice, the youth had determined to break himself of his timidity before it interfered with his rapid progress. alone in his uncle's dart, he had made practice take-offs and landings in every sort of weather and under all imaginable conditions, until he was so sure of his ship that he had no uneasiness about setting down. he realized that the modern airplane is so well stabilized, so well designed, that it does just what its pilot wants it to do--that in every case where some part has not failed, the pilot's mental condition and its resulting reaction on the handling of the ship is what makes the difference between safe flying and accidents that result in injury or worse. the small, wide-winged craft sent out a split crest of foam, coming swiftly closer to the dragonfly; but it lost speed and don maneuvered it to a point close alongside the larger craft and with his own wings just a little behind those of the biplane. gliding up to its stop, the dart rested quietly in the still, rather murky water. "hello!" its pilot greeted the others. "did i give you a solution of the mystery of mystery airport!" "you certainly did!" garry admitted. "chick thought you were the flying phantom----" "just as the first pilot to crash thought some chance ship, lighted up by a flash of some beacon, was the ghost," don interrupted. "i'm not so sure of that," scott spoke, taking up the thread of a statement he had been about to make before the dart came down. "i've been interested in the mystery--i like spooks, you know----" "more than i do!" broke in chick, gloomily. scott, laughing, agreed. "every fellow to his taste," he quoted. "anyhow, i've been reading up on ghosts, and talking to some of the 'old inhabitants' around the marsh. want to know what i dug up?" all three eagerly chorused agreement. "away back in the days when airplanes were tricky to handle and the pilots knew less about aerodynamics than they do today," he stated, "a flyer was over this swamp, on just about this sort of night," he indicated the clustered, slow-moving, fleecy groups of clouds, some assuming the pyramid shape of thunderheads, "one of the clam-diggers at the edge of the swamp recalls it very plainly. he was out at low tide after clams when--it happened!" "what!" asked chick, forgetting his uneasiness and the gloomy, spooky environment in his suspense. the aviator had appeared suddenly, coming down, through a cloud, as scott repeated the tale told him by an old man who earned his meagre living with a clam-hoe and bucket; at the same instant another ship, diving swiftly in apparent oblivion of the first, came into view. "it must have happened in the flick of an eyelid," scott went on. "as old ike tells it, he heard the engines, looked up, saw one ship for a split second, saw the other, and then--saw them come together!" "oh!" exclaimed garry, "collided, did they!" scott completed his story quickly, after admitting that garry had diagnosed the accidental smash correctly. "right-o! and they never found one of the ships. it must have gone down in devil's sink." he referred to a portion of the marsh either of the quicksand bottom sort or very similar in the softness of its muddy shallows. "and---" "that's--why they found--a skeleton, there!" chick shivered as he spoke in a hushed voice. "maybe." "but--" don objected, "what connection is there between an accident years ago and the excitement that has gotten into some of the newspapers and made a reporter call our new development 'mystery airport?'" "ever read the 'proceedings' and other books of the society for psychical research?" scott questioned in turn. "i saw some of them in a bookstore," garry admitted. "they were too dull and prosy for me. just old stories collected by scientific men who were trying to find out whether ghosts existed or not." "what did they decide?" chick spoke eagerly. "nothing very definite," scott informed him. "but i've gone over a lot of the dry 'case-histories' and i firmly believe that if somebody has done something wrong, he has to haunt and stay around the place." "like a criminal 'haunting' the scene of his crime," chuckled don. "i'm surprised at you, scott. i believe, in every case, if you could get to the bottom of it you'd find that the ghost is either produced by fraud, or else some perfectly natural things are misjudged----" "chick thought you were the sky spook," broke in garry. "i believe that's so in most of the cases," scott agreed. "but this time i think the ghost is restless, because he was careless in coming along through the clouds where he couldn't see ahead far enough to be able to avoid other ships--and he may have caused the other ship to go down into the sink. that makes his spirit hang around, and of course whenever it appears, it lives over all the terrible scenes of the smash!" "but i just proved--" began don. "yes, you proved that people can be mistaken," scott was serious. "you didn't prove that any ship was near at the other times that pilots have claimed they saw the ghost." "one caught the fever from another," argued garry. "the first one saw something--or he tried to get out of culpability for carelessness in making his crack-up, by saying a spook put him out of control. the rest were all superstitious and the story got headway. the next pilot to see a flicker of summer lightning and a bird flying or anything at all, was quick to twist it into a spectre, and come down to tell his story and give everybody chills and shivers." "i think we'll soon find out," scott spoke quietly. surprised, the others clamored for his reason. "this is just the sort of night that the three other pilots had, when they claimed to see the ghost of an airplane coming out of luminous clouds," scott stated. "it's close, humid--storm-breeding july weather. "well, then, for another thing, if you check up you'll find that the spook has appeared every seven days--and this is the seventh night since this last time!" "let's go home, don," whispered chick, across the narrow span of water. don laughed. "no, sirree!" he retorted. "in the first place, if it is pure chance, nothing will happen, because it isn't reasonable that a beam of light from the control room search-lamp would strike a cloud every seventh night and four successive weeks. besides, it isn't possible that an airplane would be flying around just at the same time that light came, and that no other ship would be noticed." "no," declared garry. "my opinion is that it's some real person who flies out of the clouds, after seeing a ship coming. then he goes up into another cloud and is lost, and because of the first fib the pilot told to protect himself from censure by the board of inquiry sitting about the crack-up, all the rest believe they see a spook." "i think he is trying to use the ghost scare to drive business away from uncle," don asserted. "uncle has several people he can name who are none too fond of him. any one of them might be doing the 'spooking.'" "in that case," garry was practical, "if we go up, scouting, that person will know it, and won't 'appear' tonight." "that's why i liked scott's plan when he suggested guarding the sky," don agreed. "it's important, too--because uncle bruce is expecting to get a big airline to contract for space for its ships, servicing and all that, take-off and landing, and fuel and oil. it will mean a lot to him not to lose that contract. if we prevent any 'spooking' tonight, there won't be any newspaper scarehead stories tomorrow to make the men hesitate about signing up." "then let's get up out of this stagnant water!" urged chick, fired by the realistic explanation of the spectre. "we'll be a sort of sky watchman." "an airlane guard!" suggested garry. "that's it--an airlane guard!" scott agreed. "well, come in here, don, take this dragonfly aloft and cruise around. if you see signs of any other ship than the mail 'plane--it's due soon--let garry send over a green flare if it's in the air, or have chick fire a red verey if it goes up off the earth or water--and you go around on wingtip to point to it and start after it, and i'll come up on a slanting course, and we can corner the fellow, and end the mystery of the spectre in the clouds." "why not come up in the dragonfly, and let don fly the dart, too?" garry suggested. "the dragonfly isn't fast. the dart is. if the 'spook' pilot sees you young lads cruising around, he'll think it's just a joy-hop. if he happened to see you start out--with me--he'll suppose we are testing the visibility of the new airport lighting system--and he might try to scare up a little excitement for us, as he'd suppose. then, if don flew the dart, taking off first, to surprise him, the 'spook' might do stunts and i'd rather be the one to handle the dart in the night time if stunting is in order. as far as both ships flying around is concerned, what self-respecting ghost, or sensible enemy of mr. mcleod's, would give us a chance to drive him down and capture him if he saw two ships in the airlane waiting for him?" they saw the logic in his reasoning and agreed to abide by scott's original plan. the dragonfly was warmed up. don, in its pilot's seat, waved a hand to scott who had shifted to the other craft, opened his throttle carefully to avoid unnecessary air disturbance as he drove away from the dart, and then got his pontoons "on the step," so that take-off would be easy, and lifted the three-place dragonfly into the night. garry felt a thrill of expectancy. he loved the mysterious, but of the practical, worldly brand; he had no belief in supernatural things. this would be a chase against a human enemy of bruce mcleod, airport designer and airways development specialist. don, steady but hopeful, felt much the same. chick, for his part, snapped his safety belt with a little tremble of his fingers. he anticipated something fearful. his premonition was fulfilled. chapter iii the spectre in the cloud "there it is!----" chick's voice, shrill with terror, died away, and don, startled for an instant, almost let the glide become a dive; but he caught his stick and gunned ahead, giving up the glide they had been in. the radial engine, though of as silent a type as any, drowned any reply from garry or don until the youthful pilot, climbing, had gained a good thousand feet more of altitude. then he cut the gun and let the glide begin, so that the dart was quietly nose-low in a gentle glide. "don't go off at half-cock that way," he remonstrated. "no!" garry was a trifle annoyed by chick's impetuous screeches. "if you insist on yelling 'wolf!' every time the sheet lightning flickers on the clouds, you'd better be put down--and stop trying to be an airlane guard." "was it sheet lightning?" chick asked lamely. "yes. there's a storm brewing." "then we'd better go home!" "don't be so anxious." garry spoke sharply. "the storm isn't here and won't be for an hour. we're going to stay aloft at least till the mail 'plane comes in. they 're inaugurating the new ship-to-shore service and you wouldn't want to be making a pass at the field just when that crate comes over, and make him lose ten minutes waiting for us to shoot the field and land and get the ship off the runway." "no." don climbed again. that cruise, however, began to be tedious. already they had been for a good half hour aloft, cruising to and fro, mostly over the dismal, dark reaches of the salt marsh. don chose to stick quite closely over the area which had been the scene of one real mishap and several other narrowly averted crashes. the spectre had always appeared over the swamp. "i wish they'd start draining it," don mused, thinking of the gloomy marsh below his trucks. "those engineers spend so much time surveying! if they'd get their men out there, and start work, there'd soon be no dark place close to the airport, and the ghost would go away. or--if anybody should be trying to ruin uncle bruce's new real estate development and the airport business, they'd see it was no use and quit!" having nothing to occupy his mind, as he kept the dart almost automatically at flying speed and in level flight or climbing for a subsequent glide, the youth, depending on garry and chick for their first inkling of anything unusual, reviewed the strange mysteries which had upset the morale not only of the airport personnel and of the pilots, but of the residents of port washington and the vicinity, as well. four weeks before, to the day, just before the dedication of the new airport which had been opened in conjunction with the already established seaplane base and aircraft plant, an airplane had cracked up in the swamp. it had approached, down wind, over the morass that lay where the draining project would later bring airport expansion and a cottage community. since the full night-landing light equipment had not been completed, at the newly dedicated field, no provision had been made at that time for night landings and so no one had been on watch for the free-lance airplane which had gone down. its pilot had not been badly hurt and had managed to attract rescuers by use of flares. his story, told that night, and later persisted in at the inquiry board investigation of the smash, had been a weird one. it had fired the superstitious air folks to hear him affirm that he had been making his approach to try out the new field, quietly, when a sudden glow of light in a cloud almost dead ahead of his nose, only a scant few feet higher, had startled him. almost at the same instant, as he maintained in his assertion, from within the glowing cloud he had seen the swift approach of a shape. "it was an airplane, but it wasn't an airplane!" he had maintained, declaring that its shape was blurred, its outlines ghostly, its position seemingly also to shake up and down, as though either the ship was vibrating dreadfully or its very shape of terror made the moist cloud stuff shudder. "it seemed to be coming down and straight at me!" the pilot had declared. "i got just the glimpse--then i dived, and of course my engine was full gun and i power-dived and only came out of it just above the marsh." then he had added the finishing, terrifying word. "i looked up, to see what had become of that other 'bus, and--the sky was silent, deserted, dark!" on each of the succeeding seventh days, as don recalled, a pilot had set down, shaken and horrified, to report seeing a similar apparition of the skies, a very phantom coming out of clouds! "it's all imagination!" don murmured, reflectively. "one caught the scare from the other!----" "don!----" "there!--side-slip! quick!" don, catching the fright if not the sense of chick's scream, and the surprise of garry's order, kicked rudder to give the banked dart, making a gentle circuit of the swamp, a chance to shift downward and sideways. then he glanced to his left: common sense told him that the bank with left wingtip elevated, causing the slip to the right, and garry's consequent order meant that whatever gave rise to the order was to his left and slightly higher. he looked that way. just before a brightening shimmer of summer lightning blotted out the spectacle, don saw what made his flesh crawl. apparently lighting up a large, fluffy, steamy-white cloud with its own spectral glow, some phantom ship came fleetly forth through that misty, white screen. dark, almost black, yet not distinct and sharp, because of the mist he supposed, that mystical, phantasmic craft grew large--and was blotted from view by the bright flash of the distant storm. gone! absolutely vanished! once seen, for a bare instant, the strange and ghostly mirage had disappeared when the blaze of the lightning faded. immediately garry, cool and self-contained, sent over the side a parachute-flare, self-igniting with the jerk as the 'chute opened to sustain the vivid, unearthly light in mid-sky, slowly dropping. chick cowered. garry remained erect, calm, poised, staring swiftly above, to either side, and below. he saw nothing. slightly blinded by the recent flash of summer electricity, and still being a little dazzled by the green of the flare that had ignited almost in front of him, he could not make out any distinct object in any direction. don, who had been looking down at his inclinometer to gauge his bank as he glided, just when the cries first came, was not dazzled: he sent a swift, questing look in every direction. the sky was blank, except for the after-flare of the dying electrical discharge and the growing glare of the green light. "but--was that still the shadow of the spook 'plane, that i just saw?" he muttered, inquiring of his straining eyes. if so, the barely discerned shadow was gone. "i don't see scott!" he shouted back to chick. "do you?" chick, speechless, shook his head. "he's probably up above the clouds by this time!" called garry; he knew how fast was the dart. probably, as he reasoned it, the watching pilot had seen the light in the clouds before the green flare had gone over the side. its blaze had prevented their dimmed light from discerning the dart, that was all. "there comes the mail 'plane!" cried don, waving an arm toward the north. down the sound, bringing the mail from a vessel still a hundred miles from land, the swift 'plane was seeking to prove the commercial advisability of lopping off delays in getting trans-oceanic mail to its destination. they watched the fleet approach of the small ship that had been catapulted from a huge liner's cabin deck. "look!" chick's voice was shrill. garry even, caught his breath. unexpectedly, like the vision of a fantastic nightmare, don also saw the catastrophe. sharply, parallel with their own course, the mail 'plane tipped down its nose. before it, a luminous cloud seemed to glow with a weird, unearthly light. down went the mail craft--into darkness--into the bay. sharply don slapped his stick sidewise, kicking rudder. on wingtip he banked around, straightened, gave his engine full gun, elevating the nose, darting straight for that cloud. still it seemed to glow! on a full-gun climb don made his ship climb at that cloud. the glow disappeared. straight through the cloud he drove--and came out! except for their ship, immersed in that humid, wet mist for an instant, the cloud had been devoid of any tangible object. no other ship, hiding by some miracle of skilful piloting, had been there to dodge, to reveal itself in escaping don's intrepid charge. out of the cloud they sped. don cast his eyes backward. the fluff, hardly disturbed except for a swirl of fleecy smoke where their propeller had moiled up the edge of the filmy drapery, lay at the tail. "oh-h-h!" again, almost inarticulate, chick screamed. "dive!" as he cried out, garry realized that his call was useless--late! straight ahead of the dragonfly's speeding, climbing nose, in one more of those horrible, mistily glowing banks of summer moisture, lit as if with a phantom's phosphorescent fire, their horrified eyes saw a vision, dreadful, inescapable! two misty, shadowy airplanes, appearing as though silhouetted in shuddering brown against the gleaming of some infernal light, came at one another. don knew that his ship could not avoid adding its own crash to that cataclysmic impact. there was not time to dive. already the propeller was within a hundred feet of the others! don closed his eyes, braced. mechanically he had depressed the nose by throwing forward the stick. but there was no rip and rend of wings stripped off as they went under the trucks of those other airplanes. there was nothing--neither impact nor blow, crash nor other sound. don looked swiftly upward. the cloud was around them--dim--silent--ghostly! and dark! and the other ships--had they dived, fallen? or, were they but the phantoms of over-stimulated imagination? they had come together--but don realized that he had heard no crash. hastily he pulled out of the dive. soberly he turned the nose toward mystery airport--baffled--not knowing what to think, what to believe! chapter iv tempest and treachery seeing the direction taken by don, garry, using the light of the ever increasing flashes in the north, scribbled rapidly and sent a bit of paper forward. "going back?" he asked don in that fashion. as a vivid blaze of forked lightning leaped across the sky, don nodded. for answer garry extended his arm, outward and downward. the green flare, floating slowly downward, lit up the swamp beneath the dragonfly. looking down, don saw what garry meant. the mail 'plane lay in a tangled heap of marsh grass at the edge of the lighted space. a flash of lightning picked it out more sharply. in that more accented glimpse don made out the twisted wings and warped outlines. for a moment the more sinister apparition which had menaced the three chums had driven the pilot of the mail ship out of don's mind. he felt ashamed of his lack of consideration for a man whose airplane had gone down so swiftly. he swung back and began to drop the nose. the floating flare died out. chick, still searching the skies for that dreadful phantom whose advent had robbed him of all self-control and whose unexplainable disappearance had added to, rather than diminished his terror, cried out in dismay. he wanted very much to get among people, to feel the security of human companionship among older people. almost at once, however, chick's sense of decency came to his rescue. he was glad that his remonstrating call had not been heard because of the noise made by the engine. at heart chick had, like most impulsive youths, one of the kindest, most chivalrous, natures. resolutely he drove out his own selfish timidity, braced himself to ignore the shaking of his nerves and muscles. in the glare of a bright stream of heavenly fire, don turned a face that showed great concern. garry guessed the reason. the summer tempest, that had been prophesied by heat, humidity and the gathering thunder heads, was bearing down swiftly from the north, racing along the shore of the sound. its rapid approach gave don much uneasiness. wind, rain and turbulent wrench of storm could be avoided by going at once to the airport. they could set down, get the dragonfly in the hangar, and get help to proceed by safer ways to the rescue of the pilot. if they tried to set down in the water of the marsh, the storm might break upon them before they could rescue the fallen pilot, always supposing that they could get him out of his ship. garry, scribbling another note, passed it up. don read it in the next flicker of the intermittent lightning. "it is dangerous to try to go down. but his life may hang on quick aid." don, reading what garry had written, nodded, kept the nose down, added a spurt of the gun to be sure of clear cylinders, and then side-slipped to lose altitude as quickly as he could. he brought the ship to a level once more, and, while chick sent over white landing flares to help him chose his landing without risk, made contact with the water. while the dragonfly sped with diminishing momentum across the wide stretch of water they had formerly used, chick and garry were busy. from a conveniently located small locker chick drew out and uncoiled rope with which to secure the dragonfly if they were not able to go aloft and escape the storm. if they had to "ride it out" he wished to be able to stake down the wings and tail, to prepare the ship as well as possible against the tear and stress of high winds. he hoped that the airplane would run close to the edge of the open water. there, he knew, was a small dock, on the widened end of which stood a small, two-room shack used by a boatman who rented his small dories for crabbing excursions into the channels of the swamp. garry, with quick hands, drew out a first aid kit from a pocket in his cockpit, glancing into its box to assure himself that it contained the liniments, bandages and adhesives he might need. garry had taken a number of lessons in first aid and instinctively thought of the work of mercy he might be called upon to do. don, maneuvering the dragonfly up to as close proximity to the old dock as the safety of wings and propeller would allow, signaled to chick and called for one more white flare. dropping the floating light into the water, to augment for them the illumination provided by the almost incessant flickers of lightning, chick sprang up, and began to climb out on a brace and the wing-step at one side while don balanced him on the other. expertly don caught the rope end. it was plainly to be seen that the storm would be down upon them before they could take off safely and get high enough to avoid the moiling currents of the stormy area. bringing the ship as close to the dock as he could, by flinging a bight of the rope over a dock piling, don let the wind drift its tail outward. chick, on his side, clambered carefully forward across the lower wing until he could fling his part of the rope over another wooden upright. quickly, but carefully, they worked the ship around so that it was sheltered somewhat by the dock planking and to the leeward of the old house. by climbing out to the wingtip, gingerly so as not to injure the fabric and with each movement setting his weight on the supporting framework, chick, his terrors forgotten in action, held a flying wire with one hand, bent far outward, and managed to get his fingers over the gunwale of a dory tied under the wharf. he drew against the pull of the wind until he could get the dory and the low wingtip close enough together to enable him to step across. swiftly he untied the painter of the boat while garry aided don to use every available inch of their rope in securing the dragonfly against the pull and thrust of wind, the tossing waves that must soon fling the ship to and fro. their tasks completed, don and garry, one on the wharf planks, the other balancing the light flying craft, waited until chick could scull the dory close alongside the fuselage. there he stepped back onto the wing bracing, steadying the dory as garry and don entered it. "hang on!" he urged, as don caught a bracing wire to keep the two craft together, using his hand to fend off the rub of wood against the dragonfly's fabric body. "i'll break into the shack and get oars." agile, supple, quick, chick clambered to the planks. he ran around the small building, old, dilapidated, weather-worn. the door, he recalled from earlier visits, was toward the more solid shore a hundred yards beyond, from which a narrow runway enabled visitors to cross deep, mud-bottomed channels. to chick's surprise, the door stood ajar! he dashed in, waited until a flash of the swiftly coming electrical storm gave him light, located the racks of oars at one side, secured a pair and hurried out. "take flares!" he urged. "you might need to signal. i'll stay here!" he was anxious to make amends for his earlier weakness by braving the storm, guarding the dragonfly as best he could, in spite of the spooky look of that open door of the deserted interior of the shack. agreeing, as soon as they had secured the signal lights, don and garry sculled for all they were worth, got the dory away from the airplane, and then took their places, rowing hard for the stricken shape of the mail 'plane half way down the southern shore. chick hastily went from post to post, making certain that their knotted ropes were secure. then he turned back to the old hovel. hoarse and angry, the thunder rumbled, ever louder. across the water, in the dying light of the last flare they had ignited, he could see don and garry, their bodies rising and bending in rapid rhythms as they put all their strength behind the oars on their rescue errand. the door of the shack, when chick came to it again, stood as before. he hurried in. the wind began to blow in short, sharp puffs. a vivid fork of light thrust its fire from cloud to earth. a crash and rumble followed. chick shivered; but it was not from fear of the storm. somewhere within that small boathouse came a low moan! hollow, hard to locate, it chilled chick's very marrow. he braced his shaken nerves, standing just inside the doorway, his presence hidden from peering eyes by some old oilskins behind which he had hurriedly dodged. a glare of burning air, a blue-white bolt of fire, threw the inside of the place into brightness akin to day. in that flash chick's eyes caught the huddle of a body in a corner. at first terrified, then made calm by the thought that it must be the mail 'plane pilot who had managed to crawl along the swamp edge to shelter in the old place and needed instant attention, chick crossed the room. as he did so a glare of light more vivid than the others showed him for a fleeting instant the face of the man lying in a heap. "doc morgan!" chick cried out in amazement. "doc"---- the man was a sort of general helper around the airport, not very keen of wit, nor deft of hand; he aided when ships had to be trundled out of the hangar, and swept up the yards, and did other odd jobs. "doc" had earned his nickname because he was always gathering herbs which he maintained were of great medicinal value. curiously enough, the concoctions he administered to the amused airport personnel often proved to be very helpful. therefore "doc" was forgiven his dull wit and liked for his good nature. but what was he doing there, in the supposably untenanted boat shack? morgan stirred, groaned. chick bent down, "'doc'--are you hurt?" the man stirred again, and then chick, with a stare, moved back a step. the man was muttering. an empty bottle, reeking as did his breath with the odor of cheap alcohol, gave the clue to his condition. a fierce gust of wind swept through the place before it banged the door against its frame with a crash that made chick jump. before the slam of the door shut out the fire of a bolt that came close, chick saw a bit of paper caught up by the draft and sent through the air. he ran to the door, threw it wide, turned, and, waiting for the next gust, and its accompanying flash, he located the paper--secured it--caught sight of its marked surface, thin, inked lines on light tracing paper--and cried out, in disgust. "you traitor! you've taken some of the plans for the new all-metal ship! this is one! where are the others?" chapter v storm-tossed wings puffs of cool wind began to bend the tall grass while don and garry bent and pulled back at the dory's oars. rapidly the intensity of fitful flashes in the north increased, and the storm drew closer. "think we can make it?" gasped garry. "hope so!" don responded over his shoulder. ahead of them, but fully exposed to the blast of the coming tempest, lightning flashes revealed the torn, broken shape of the mail 'plane. if they could get there before the storm broke in its full fury they might rescue its pilot from the added menace of turbulent waters. already, while they were a quarter of a mile away, they saw that the time was all too short. "don!" called garry, "i thought i saw a sort of path on the shore, along the water, when the lightning came that last time." "i thought this was all marshy, soft ground," commented don, "but it might be that we could get around to the mail crate quicker if there was solid earth to run on. let's try!" they let the increasing wind drift them, aiding their efforts. bright and fierce, a flare of electric blue came across the sky. in its light they made out what looked like fairly firm earth, running in a swiftly narrowing strip from the mainland, a promontory jutting in a curving line into the grass-covered waters. if only that jut of land extended far enough they thought it possible to reach the smashed airplane by a safer route than the dory could afford. already it dipped and rolled, as they drove its nose on the wash of foam into the soft bank between the grasses. holding tightly to a handful of the sturdy vegetation, don began to progress into the bow. from the windward side garry dug his oar into soft bottom, steadying their craft as well as he could. the wind swept the stern around into the grass, but don managed to get a leg over the bow, to test the firmness of the bank. "i think it's solid enough to hold us," he cried, and got out of the dory, being careful to cling to the rope at the prow, lest his chum be drifted beyond the patch of solid ground, separating them and leaving garry to battle alone against the surge of wind and water. "it's safe!" don added. "i'll hold the painter, garry. come on. be careful to leave the oars in the bottom or the grass might pull them out of the boat." "i will!" garry picked up his first aid kit, stowed the oars, crawled forward and tumbled to a yielding sod which, nevertheless, did not break through. guiding themselves by the steadily increasing succession of lightning gleams, their voices drowned in the quickly following growls of thunder, wondering about the dragonfly, about scott, probably aloft in the dart, don and garry went from the dory, tied to a root, along a perilous and unknown path. don, in the van, had to part clumps of tossing, cumbering grass to test the solidity of footing before he went ahead; garry, clutching his kit and steadying his partner when a foot would miss the sometimes narrow band of safe path, followed. as a glare of vivid fire, followed almost instantly by a peal of angry thunder, revealed the upthrust wing of the smashed craft within a few feet, to one side, don stopped. it had been apparent to them for several yards, as they parted the clumps of grass, that the way went no further. "can you lift me up, make a 'back' for me, do you think?" garry asked as he carefully put down the first aid kit on the path they had just traversed. don, choosing his stand on what seemed to be the firmest spot--an old spar or block of driftwood embedded in the mud--bent forward, his hands braced on his knees. lithely, with his gymnasium training to give him confidence, garry put his weight on the elevated perch of don's back and leaped, forward, upward and outward, over the mud and water, as a chain of fiery light split the clouds to the roar of thunder. don, in that vivid flare, saw the lithe figure seemingly poised between sky and water, its outflung hands seeking for a grip on the leading edge of the wing that was closest to them. leaping up as soon as the weight left his supporting back, don saw those hands strike their target--but the light died as it seemed to him that garry slipped. peals of celestial cannon drowned a cry if there was any. with eyes still blinded by the fierceness of the last flash, don could not make out whether garry had been able to hold his grip or if he struggled in ooze and quagmire, sinking, helpless. "garry!" he shouted. from the north came another blaze of blue-white light. don gave a relieved cry. garry, one foot braced against the junction of fuselage and flying wire, one hand clinging to the wire, was safe! the moiled waters, reflecting the furious discharges of fire from above, were foaming across under the wind's whip, and don saw that if garry did not find the object of his search quickly, it would be too late. already the salty spume lashed his face, the fabric of the airplane quivered and shook to the beat of waves, and sunk in the soft mud, while wind under the wing failed to topple the whole craft onto the end of the promontory only because its trucks lay in clinging mud and steadied the ship. from across the end of the grassy bank don saw the distant glow of two red flares, smoking and guttering in the wind. chick was signaling. two red flares!--did that mean the air signal, for an airplane to land, the storm call "proceed no further!" or, don wondered, was chick himself in danger? "i can't go!" he muttered. "oh, garry--hurry!" garry, revealed by a fresh, and even more vivid stream of heavenly fire, was lifting something. don saw him wave, as if urging him to go away. then something heavy seemed to come against him, almost taking him off his feet. instinctively he clutched it, recovering his footing. "the mail sack!" he gasped. in the next vivid flash garry came, hand over hand, along the edge of the wing as the whole ship toppled forward, and the change of angle, freeing its trucks from the mud, enabled the wind to get under the wings with telling effect. as don steadied garry after his drop to the ground, the lightning showed the menace of the toppling airplane. backward they leaped, don with the heavy sack of precious mail. just missing them, the wing came down, the fuselage rested for a moment on the supporting earth and then earth, craft and all tumbled and torn by the wind, slipped on into deeper mud beyond the solid earth left just a foot beyond garry's toes. "let's get back!" gasped garry, shaken. "but the pilot?----" began don. "he wasn't there!" don realized, as they turned to retrace the way, that the pilot could have had time, scant but sufficient, to leap clear in a back-pack 'chute and that it would be impossible for them to comb the marsh for him in the rapidly coming blackness, wind and rain. as rapidly as they could, finally breaking into a run when they got clear of the most dangerous and slippery end of the promontory, don and garry raced toward the beckoning flares. carrying the mail pouch, impeded by it as it caught on the restraining grasses, don followed garry. garry, his eyes straining, tried to detect the figure of chick by their guiding light, but he saw no figure! as they came into the clear space near the boathouse, with wind whipping the first flecks of rain into their faces to add its cold warning to the sting of salt spray torn from the growing crests of waves, don and garry paused, almost stunned. the last ruddy glow of the flares, and the white fires almost constantly leaping across the zenith, showed them two forms emerging from the door of the hovel, toward the planks that led across the marsh to solid ground. they were struggling. they were locked together. one was large, the other small and slight. "chick!" yelled don, putting speed to his flying feet. the flares died. in a glare of light the larger figure broke free from the smaller as they came to the boarding. the lightning died out, leaving the sky a black, thunder-echoing void. the earth beneath was cloaked in the pall. with blinded eyes don stopped, fearing to crash into garry just ahead of him. they were too far away to see, in that masking blackness, what had happened. the last light had shown the smaller figure reeling backward, on the edge of the planks, it seemed. there was nothing to do! to run forward might mean being precipitated into the marshy channels. they waited for the next flash. with the perversity of storms, the lightning seemed exhausted for a long, mind-torturing moment. when next it flared up, two anxious hearts seemed to drop like leaden weights from two tight throats where they had striven to constrict the breath. bare and silent lay the narrow footway across the marsh. dark and sinister the water moiled in the channels beneath it. thick and brooding, the heavy grass bent and seemed to whisper mockingly in the wind. "garry!--where did chick go?" "don--i don't know! i can't see!" they ran forward while the light lasted. the next flashes gave them light to get to the edge of the footway over the marsh. they stared toward the grass, the water, the bare and unrevealing planks. chick was not visible. neither was his adversary. beyond the end of the planks the grass began again. don dropped the mail pouch: garry, his kit forgotten, deserted far behind them in the eel grass at the promontory end, ran across the planks. into the hovel don turned. on the narrow, twisting path beyond the planks garry searched, unable to see far because the grass stood so high. in the hut, with wind roaring around it, don strained his eyes to gain some truth from the upset table, the overturned lantern, the evidences of strife and of struggle that the lightning showed as its fire came leaping again through the doorway. quickly garry retraced his steps to be met on the planking by don. "there has been a fight!" cried don. "did you find anybody--see anything?" "no!" answered don, "but--listen!" as the thunder reverberated and echoed, followed by a deep silence, pounding feet came along the path they had recently used, from the promontory. they turned, staring into the south, the light coming at their backs from the sky fires. a man in a pilot's helmet and jacket, corduroy trousers and high boots, running in a staggering, uneven course, with an arm swinging limp at his side, hailed them. "help!----" the figure stopped, wavering, and crumpled on the earth. swiftly don and garry ran to the man who lay prone on the sod. "oh!" he moaned, and then, recovering slightly, he gasped, "can you get me to--doctor?--hurt--inside!" "it's the mail 'plane pilot!" cried don. he saw his duty, and there was scant time in which to do it. the first winged cohorts of the storm clouds had broken to shreds overhead. its first fury was expended. from the north came the gathering furies of its second, and more terrible onslaught. if don could get that dragonfly into the air and climb out of the turbulent area, he could get the pilot to some medical man; at the same time he might carry on that mail!--and send searchers to find chick. much depended on the safe delivery of the pouch garry had recovered. it was the first of what might be a successful series of ship-to-shore mail flights, from vast ocean greyhounds, in swift airplanes. its successful delivery meant a great future for don's uncle who had started the idea with the inception of his new airport. "yes!" don cried, bidding garry help him to lift the pilot to his feet. to get that tethered airplane, the dragonfly, started, warmed up and aloft, carrying pilot and mail, was his immediate concern. ably garry aided him. before the fury of the storm broke again, their storm-tossed wings cut the air, climbing swiftly through the darkness that seemed breathlessly waiting, still ominous, waiting--while don flew his best. then, from the north, the storm furies leaped. chapter vi "the thing that never was" stunned by the realization that the man who worked around the airport seemed to have betrayed those who trusted him, clinging to the roll of tracing paper that was his evidence of that betrayal, chick faced doc morgan in the dark hovel until the next flash of celestial fire showed him a lantern standing on the small, rickety table at one side. hastening over to the table chick fumbled on it, and in the drawer which remained partially open. he found a card of paper matches. quickly lifting the lantern slide and turning up the wick, chick ignited a match, applied it to the burner and adjusted his light. "listen here--" doe morgan, in his corner, struggled up to a sitting posture, groaned again and then took up his own refutation of chick's accusation. "listen, chick! i ain't a traitor, no such thing i ain't!" turning, in the feeble glow of the lantern as its wick burned with a queer, fitful light, chick's face showed his antagonism and unbelief. "no, sir," the man contended, "doc morgan, he may be 'queer' but he ain't no such a thing as a traitor, not him!" "look at this!" chick waved the rolled tracing. "----and this!" he indicated the overturned bottle that reeked of alcohol of the cheapest kind, lying on its side at the edge of the table. "you thought you'd celebrate getting away with the plans of the new all-metal ship, and nobody would know about it, off here in the marsh!" chick accused morgan fiercely. treachery was hateful to chick. the man had been allowed to stay around the aircraft building plant and the new airport because he was a harmless sort of scatter-brain, able to do simple chores, willing enough, and always "doctoring" people with his herb remedies, coming to the swamps for the peculiar forms of sea grasses and weed that he contended had medicinal value. he had been trusted. "how can you say you aren't a traitor?" chick challenged, motioning with the paper he clutched, keeping the table between himself and the man he no longer trusted, watchful, alert, angry. "what's that, you got there?" asked doc, making an effort to get to his feet. he fell back, groaning, and chick, in some surprise, noted that there was a handkerchief made into a rude bandage about his head. "you know, well enough!" chick spoke through the rumble and thud of thunder whose echoes reminded him of heavy cannon balls rolling along on cleats fastened to an inclined trough, as thunder was simulated in the local motion picture house for one of its "sound effects." "i never saw that, what you got, no i never!" declared doc. "here i come in the swamp, i do, for salt water weed to mix my herbs, and i see a storm coming fast, i do, and shelter here." "that's good!" scoffed chick. "it's truth, it is so! i come here, i do, and--" his face, in the spectral yellow gleams from the lantern, and the contrasting glare of intermittent lightning showing through the door, looked pale and weird, "--and i see--something i never thought i'd see outside of a nightmare, so i do----" chick's attention was arrested. "what do you mean," he demanded. "'see what you wouldn't see outside of a nightmare!' what is that!" "i can't tell you, that i can't! it was--too awful!" quickly chick recovered from his momentary dismay. the man was trying to divert him from his accusation, he decided. he made a gesture toward the emptied bottle. "that's what made you see whatever you think you saw!" he declared. "no!" doc got slowly and unsteadily to his feet. chick watched. "no," doc reiterated, "i never touched that till after i saw--it! i come in here, i did, i declare--to shelter. then i saw--it. it was in the corner, and i saw it, i did so! terrible, it was! green in the hair, and green in the face! and greenish hands! and all slimy and terrible, like it had come up out of the ooze, it was so!" chick crushed back his tendency to believe, and to be startled. "after--you'd emptied that!" he insisted, gesturing toward the old bottle. "no! no such thing. i knocked that over. it set there, it did, and i hit it, i jumped so. i hit the table, and i must either of got upset stumbling over my own feet or--it--hit me! that's when i took that--what was left in the bottle, to steady me, i did so!" chick, disgusted, unwilling to be hoodwinked, realizing that he had more important things to consider, refused to listen any longer. the dragonfly lay tied to the wharf piling: the wind was rising. his chums were off in the dark waters of the swamp on a rescue errand. "i can't bother with you," he snapped. "tell it to don's uncle, when we get out of this." doc remained silent, steadying himself by resting a hand on the wall, holding his seemingly aching head with the other. keeping the table between them, and braced against the ruse of a push against it to upset him, chick opened an end of the tracing and verified his earlier guess. the tracing certainly looked like the rough sketch for an airplane, with most of the bracing and internal structure of the fuselage inked in heavily, with the wide-spanning, thin, speedy "slotted" wings sketched in more lightly, with the tail assembly marked on, and with innumerable sets of figures, in ink, underneath the drawing. swiftly he rolled it up and put it back into his upper coat pocket, being sure that it could neither shake nor be dropped out by folding it over, jamming it down as far as he could, and snapping a safety pin he saw in the drawer across the pocket top. doe watched him with a woebegone look, as chick judged it to be. "i don't know what you're hiding, i don't that! nor why you say i'm what i declare i ain't no such a thing--a traitor. but i'm going on home, and doctor me up myself some." "go on!" chick braced for a rush, a surprise. none came. moodily, with head bent, doc walked to the doorway and out. following him, chick saw him, picked out by the flashes, cross the planks and disappear in the winding path. "who was that?" scott, coming around the side of the hovel from the wharf, made his presence known, asking the question sharply. "doc morgan," chick responded. "i found him here. he had finished off a bottle, and he had some tracings. i guess i forgot and left them out on the designing room table when we were talking about our plan for tonight." "tracings! you don't say? let's see them!" "in the morning!" said chick, eagerly. "you ought to go and help don and garry. where's the dart?" "over in the shelter of the grass, across the water, there. what are the other two doing?" quickly chick told him where don and garry had started for in the dory. they scanned the water. the dory, invisible, hidden and held by the wind among the weeds, told them no story of its abandonment. "i guess they're at the crack-up," surmised scott. "light two red flare signals, chick. get those two back here. if i don't get back to the dart she'll never get above the storm in time. the same for the dragonfly. get those boys back here! if don hurries he can get up aloft in time." moving away he added, "after the storm we'll search." chick climbed to the struts over a rocking, tossing wing of the tethered dragonfly, secured signals from the fuselage, and as he saw them set and ignited scott hurried off to get his own lighter ship out of the danger area. chick refused to go along, preferring to risk don's less experienced piloting. he would not desert his chums. "by gracious!" he exclaimed to himself, "i wonder if there are any more of those plans in the drawer of that table? doc might have tried to hide them, stopped to celebrate, got too 'tight' to know what he was doing, and struck his head when he staggered and fell. that would account for the drawer being open so the paper could blow out--i'll go and have another look!" he hastened back into the hovel, investigating by the flicker of the lantern, wind-blown, but staunchly holding its own. "funny!" commented the youthful searcher. "why did he have only the least important plan--the sketch? maybe he has the others on his person! i ought not to have let him go. but i was so----" he paused, his words choked back into his throat by a strange sound. had something struck the hovel? a blown limb, crashing against the side, could have made that heavy, but dull thud, hard to locate. to his horror, before he could locate the source of the crash, a low, sepulchral voice spoke! "go!--go!--i am the thing that never was--the man who never lived! go--or i take you with me--down--down--down-n-n-n!" chick whirled to face about. in a corner, behind him, half out of the floor, as it seemed, was the shape of the thing--terrifying, and yet surprising. green, dull and glistening, as if of plastered seaweed or wet rubber was its head. heavy, glistening, ooze-covered was the covering upon its partially disclosed torso. green, glistening, but dripping with slimy weed were its waving, beckoning hands. transfixed, rooted to his tracks, chick gasping, stared. seen in the unearthly, fitful flashes of lightning, the yellow lantern flicker and the dull refracted red from the burning flares outside, the apparition was horrifying enough. but chick felt his muscles unchained as the figure grew in height and advanced toward him, its long, glistening, weed-spattered arms outstretched. like a streak of fleeing terror chick raced out of the door. there he paused, uncertain. it was safer in the open than in the room: the signals and the brighter light outside the cabin would enable him to see better that thing of fear if it came forth. out it came, speaking no word. terrified, chick ran. but for all its flapping encumbrance of weird draperies, it was swift. it caught the youth. terror chilled his blood but he struggled. then his courage came welling to him. if those hands could grip they must be human, and if shins kicked in desperation could evoke human growls of dismay, he faced no spectre, but a flesh-and-blood creature. the man, in his horrid garments, was searching with exploring fingers while he tried to hold the squirming, kicking chick who strove to be free, to escape. there were shouts from the other side of the hovel; suddenly chick felt his inner pocket ripped open, and the thing--or man--was away over the planking, running fleetly and with sure steps. he knew that way! after him went chick, into the twisting, swamp-bound paths. nor did he return until long after that! chapter vii above the storms while he fought the blasts of wind that tried to twist the dragonfly out of control, climbing to get beyond their influence, don tried to decide on the best course. his ship was not equipped for navigation. no compass or radio was provided to aid him in such a difficult situation: otherwise it would have been easy to rise beyond the storm levels, to set his propeller toward some predetermined objective where he could land safely and be within reach of a hospital to care for the injured mail 'plane pilot. "but i don't know wind direction at different levels," he reflected, catching the ship as a gust of fierce wind caught the tail and swung the ship around, broadside to the wind. "i don't dare to run before the wind, because it has grown so black and we've drifted so far off by now that i might not get near the base," he added to himself. garry, in the second seat, realized how difficult the situation was for the youthful pilot. a run before the wind, he understood, might take them out over the ocean before they knew their danger: there it would be a question of time only before the gas would be exhausted. long island, with the atlantic to its east and south-east, with the broad sound along its western side and new york's bays in the south, was not the best place over which to fly "blind." the safest course, garry thought, was to go on climbing. don, without being able to exchange ideas, felt the same way. as the gusty wind got under the wings he operated his controls to right the ship; when the tail lifted, he compensated with the elevators, always climbing when he dared. rain swept in stinging sheets across the wings and into their faces, cold and stinging, making the wings heavy, but don gained slowly but surely in his fight for altitude. finally they emerged from the clouds, and soon were able to rise beyond the worst of the turbulent air. "i'll go higher," don determined. "i want to be safe from the upsweep of warm currents; they upset the ship too much." as he gained altitude, going close to the "service ceiling" or safest and highest altitude at which engine power was not dragged down too much by the lightness of air, don saw, with dismay, that a worse complication confronted him. the storms they had overcome were not the only ones existing. after the humid, torrid day, storms were visible to the north, to the east and to the west, as far as his eyes could probe the lower strata of air. theirs would be a poor chance if he flew toward the south: although only the beginnings of turmoil lay in that direction, the sea was waiting, and don's only choice seemed to be to stay aloft as long as he could, hoping for a lull between the periods of stress, through which he could drop to a lower point, get his location and perhaps make a landing. with unexpected fury an eddying uprush of air took the dragonfly in its fierce grip, twisting and turning it, flinging the right wing high. swiftly, and with more than his usual force, don threw the stick to a position that should correct and right the ship. his heart turned cold, a sickish feeling came into his stomach. somewhere in the heart of the control cords something parted. on wingtip, the nose began to fall. instinctively, knowing that in that position the rudder functioned as an elevator, don changed the position of the stick, using the rudder bar to elevate the rudder, gunning on full power to pull up the nose. in that position, however, while the nose came up momentarily, saving them from a dive, don understood that they would very soon slip, on wingtip, sidewise, down into the turbulence below them. garry, thanking his good fortune that he had studied airplane design with don, during their work in the design and blue-print departments, acted. he knew each rib, brace, strut and cable of that ship, could picture their positions from the multitude of drawings and of blue-prints he had handled. with swift accuracy he kicked through the flooring, light and very easy to demolish. plunging his hands through the openings, bent low, he probed with hurrying fingers for the loose cables of the elevators. he found them. the tug he gave informed him that the break of the cord lay between him and don's stick. he could operate the elevators, but don could not. with the cords tautened he waggled them, shaking the ship. don turned his head. he discerned garry's bent position, realized what it meant. garry, though not a trained pilot, knew the operation of the controls and could co-operate with don. with a swift movement of the stick don began to right the ship as it started its sidewise slip. immediately garry, knowing that the elevators would then function in their proper capacity and that the rudder no longer could lift and depress the nose, worked his cables. before the ship could fall off again, garry drew the "flippers" upward. the engine, full gun, helped their effort, the ship began to surge forward, gaining flying speed in the proper horizontal course. watching the nose, his head lifted, his position cramped, the broken end of the cable in one hand and the slack of the other side held in his other fist, garry watched the ship's fore and-aft spirit level because his mission was to hold the nose on a level. don, with the customary signal of his arm, pointed straight ahead. garry agreed with his decision to maintain a level course, flying into the wind. the gas gauge showed that they had fuel to last several hours. from the other instruments it was evident that oil feed and pressure, and other necessary functions, were operating correctly. if they could fly beyond the worst of the storm area, in the time their fuel reserve gave them, they might, by dint of careful cooperation, get down without serious disaster. don looked back, pointed ahead. garry nodded. thus they flew on. don knew that garry, bent almost double, stretching his neck upward, was in a straining, difficult posture. it would be a question of his muscular ability to hold himself against the torture that must come with the unnatural pose: aching muscles could in time compel him to relax, perhaps to let go of the cable. "good old garry!" whispered don to himself. "if it's in human power to last, he will be the one to stick it out!" it was torture, as garry came to know before they ended that flight. ignorant of the drift of the wind, unaware of the real course, only able to guess at the flight direction by the position of the rising moon, don surmised that they were flying in a somewhat northerly course. ahead he saw, with thankful eyes, an edge of a cloud dispersing its fury in rain. there the flashes of celestial fire diminished in intensity. finally, with hearts that thanked a power greater than storm force, by dint of careful manipulation of signals and of controls, they made a landing in a field, amid quiet, storm-washed hills! chapter viii the haunted swamp drenched by rain, almost blinded by the incessant lightning, chick drew up on the narrow footway among the grasses that the wind swept against his face. "i'm lost!" he muttered. all around him, as far as his sight could reach in the flashes, tall, waving, unbroken marsh grass showed. "somewhere i took a wrong path," chick told himself. shivering, he stood, fumbling at the buttons of his coat. "that man who tried to make me think he was a spook, calling himself 'the thing that never was, and the man who never lived,'" he said bitterly, "tore my coat pocket." he put a hand inside his garment to estimate the damage. a great feeling of elation crowded out his momentary shudder of fear on realizing his dreadful situation. "he didn't get--the tracing!" cried chick to the storm-swept grass. he laughed in exultant delight. "that doc!" he exclaimed. "he was in such a hurry that instead of getting the tracing i had folded down on itself, he grabbed out the envelope of stamps i had in that pocket!" crowded into a long manila envelope chick always kept a loose lot of assorted postage stamps, ready to "trade" for new varieties to add to a collection he was making. in his haste the unknown--but easily guessed--adversary had caught hold of the fat envelope, crushed down as chick had pinned in the other paper. released, it had popped up. that had been his trophy. chick danced and shouted triumphantly. "he's welcome to all those bavarian and venezuelan duplicate stamps!" cried chick, making sure that the precious tracing was secure from any chance rip of the pocket allowing it to drop out, "and if he can make anything by selling a hundred cancelled american two-cent stamps, he will do better than i ever did!" he felt elated; but the distressing situation he was in came back to him and his face sobered in the glaring light of the tempest. "i see the boathouse," he told himself. "i guess i'd better go back there, and not try to get out of here in this storm." by guiding himself in the revealing light from the skies, he managed to get back to the right path, pushing through clutching clumps of the soggy, clinging grass that had hidden the way out but did not wholly conceal the way back. he had heard the dragonfly, knew it had gone up. once more sheltered he shivered in his wet clothing, but made the best of a bad condition by righting an old, rickety chair and turning up the lantern wick till it gave a better light. "now," he remarked to himself, "let's see--doc was here, and for all his denials i am sure he had taken the tracing--maybe others! i remember that i was sorting out the drawings of the new, all-metal ship, to make blue-prints in the morning. scott came in and i guess i was so excited at the prospect of guarding the airlanes that i left those drawings on the big table." there it would be easy for doc, sweeping up, to find them, to abstract any--or many. "but he might have told the truth about not 'celebrating,'" he said, thoughtfully. "he never has any money to buy big bottles of alcohol. if he had been paid by anybody for the new designs, he wouldn't have had the one i discovered. he must have been waiting for somebody else to come." he recalled the course of events that had transpired. had the "other man" come? was it he who had played ghost? chick wondered, clutching his torn, soggy coat as tightly about him as possible. not that it warmed him much; but the act was involuntary as his mind focused on the weird apparition he had seen. instinctively his eyes went to that dark, gloom-crowded corner of the hovel. in a lull of the storm he seemed to hear something gurgling, slapping, like water against pilings. it was too clear to come from the channels beyond the closed door. "i wonder--if there was a trap door--" he meditated. summoning his courage he walked over to the corner. to his surprise he discovered, in the gloom that had concealed it, an unclosed flap of the flooring, leaning back against the wall. in the dull light from the lantern it had not been noticed, against the similarly dark wall boards. "it's a trap door to steps so the boatman can get down to the dories he keeps tied under the place," chick decided. he did not care to explore the mysterious depths below, however. closing the square of flooring on the fury of the water beneath, he returned to his chair. "i know about the man who never lived, now," he told himself. "it was doc morgan. he saw i had the tracing. he told me all that made-up stuff, and then went out. he came back, over the dories, maybe, under the place, and came up the ladder, in oilskins and rubber cap and gloves. pouff! i guess that's all there was to the ghost." that made him wonder if, in some way, they might find an equally sensible explanation for the spectre that had appeared and vanished so mysteriously in the clouds. "but don flew right into that cloud!" chick objected to his own hopeful theory. "there wasn't a thing there." he sat, shivering with the chill of his wet garb, wondering how long the successively approaching storms would continue. long hours seemed to pass. chick got up, exercised, flailed his arms and did gymnastic exercises to promote circulation. nevertheless, time dragged slowly. the intensity of the storm lessened: lightning came more fitfully, rain ceased, thunder grumbled and ceased to crash, dying away in the south. chick went to the door, looking out. "there are stars," he observed the bright sparks showing through the drifting, scattering shreds of the tempest, "maybe i ought to try to get home. they'll be worried about me. i wonder where don and garry landed and if they got down all right." they had, but far up the hudson. swamp life began to make itself heard--and felt. fish leaped, hungry for insects. frogs began to sing their uncanny songs. mosquitos, made ferocious by the cooling air, attacked chick in swarms. he retired to the house, closing the door, killing as many of the pests as he could. the bites decided him against a foray into the marsh paths. he had read of several cases of people, lost in marshy country, who had been dangerously bitten and infected by the swarms of nocturnal pests, swamp mosquitos. he sat down again, drawing out and spreading the map before him on his table. damp, softened, the paper was very hard to handle. he wondered, as he studied it, why doc had chosen that special one, if it was all he had taken. "it doesn't show much of the real construction detail," he mused. "if i'd wanted to sell plans, i'd have taken the detail drawings--the new pontoon design, the special tail construction plans, the details of the way the plates would fit together for strength and lightness. oh, well, maybe doc took what first came to hand and was looking it over--with his bottle to help him think it was valuable!" he looked up, startled. "was that a step?" he asked himself, straining his ears. with instinctive caution he slipped the curled paper back into his coat, buttoning its loose buttons across his chest. a low, hollow thumping came to his tense ears. "what's that?" he wondered. "where is it coming from?" he kept mouse-still, listening. "it's--at the door!" his heart was in his throat. "has doc come back?" he watched the door. something--or someone--was fumbling at the latch, striking knuckles against the wood. in spite of his earlier assurance that the supposed spook had been only a man made horrible by light and queer clothing, chick felt a chill strike to his marrow. the latch clicked. slowly the door began to open. with wide--staring eyes--chick fixed his gaze on the widening crack. he jumped. with a slam the door came inward, banging against the inner boards. in the dark square--there was nothing visible. he summoned his wit and by sheer force of will made himself run to the door. he looked out. the path, the planking, the platform on which the house stood, were devoid of sign of human life. he ran back, closing the door. he dragged the table against it, bracing it against another strange attack. he stood over the trap door to prevent its uncanny opening without warning. then the lantern flame flared up, guttered--went out! a sound, half squeal, half groan, assailed chick's ears as he cowered in the dark hovel. he realized at once what it was. pushing the table across the floor, the door was being opened. chapter ix one mystery--or two? slowly the table grated back across the floor of the hut. then, to chick's intense relief, a cheerful voice hailed him. "ahoy, the boathouse! who's in there?" "it's--chick--chickering----" "gosh-a-mighty!" chick sensed a familiar ring in the exclamation. "in the name of all-possessed! what are you doing in my boathouse?" the door thrust the table back, a dark form showed in the rays of the moon that peered from the edge of scattering clouds, and chick, with a great sense of relief, recognized that his newest companion was toby tew, who operated a small motion picture "palace" in winter and eked out a meager living by renting dories to crabbing parties in the summer. "show a light!" he ordered chick. "what made you blow out the lantern?" "i didn't. it went out." chick clutched the arm of the big man in his heavy oilskins as he thrilled to the touch of human contact. "mr. tew, did you see anything--hear anything?" the other laughed. "sort of spooky, hey? no. i guess i was part of the ghost, and your excitement furnished the balance. i saw a light when i started down channel to see to my dories after the blow. 'a light!' thinks i, 'that's a how-dy-do!' so i pushed the door open, and got out of range, case it was some bootlegger run in out o' the blow. i heard you coming out so i dodged across and got behind a spile. thinks i, 'i don't want any bootlegger to bore me. if he wants to shelter in my boathouse, let him,' thinks i, 'but i won't try collecting rent--not in the kind of lead the bootleggers uses to pay their taxes!'" "i'm glad it was you," chick said, and on toby's earnest question as to his reason for being there, chick spoke in fullest confidence. he knew toby tew, as did all the youths of port washington and its vicinity, knew him for a kindly, good-humored, open-handed man. no parent was ever visited because prankish youths "borrowed" dories and returned them with am oar missing. no party of boys lacking funds had to forego crabbing expeditions as long as toby had spare dories not in demand for pay. any winter evening there were plenty of spare seats at the picture theatre for young men who wanted amusement but were out of pocket money--and they always paid when they could! "um! gosh-a-mighty!" exclaimed the boatman-picture exhibitor, when chick had related the suggestions of scott, the ensuing flight, the coming of the mail 'plane, the spectre visitation and its vanishment, and the events that had followed, "in the name of all--possessed! you don't say! doc!--why, doc never stole in his life!" "somebody had to bring those designs here," chick maintained. "doc was here when i came," he gestured toward the bottle and the upset condition of the hut, revealed by the refilled lantern; toby, who had made a foray on his reserve can of kerosine for the lantern, set the utensil in its place. "doc never done that! gosh-a-mighty! i've known that fellow for a lifetime, almost! in the name of all-possessed, though, who would of come up through my trap door with oilskins and green rubber gloves and a bathing cap on? and what for? and doc did say he saw the same----" "it's easy to say you 'saw' something if you mean to 'be it,'" chick explained. but toby shook his head. "he wouldn't go that far to try to throw a scare into you," he remonstrated. "and doe seldom uses alcohol. more'n that, there's some mighty funny goings-on around this marsh, of late--mighty funny." "i know it!" chick agreed. "that spooky airplane and then the two ghosts crashing together--scott said some old-timer around the marsh had seen it and remembered about a crack-up years ago and thinks it's the ghost of the pilot who caused the smash, unable to rest, haunting the place; and--from what we saw--i begin to wonder." "not me. gosh-a-mighty, son, there's a whole heap of easier ways to account for it than that. supposing the airport beacon was lit, say--flashing around. supposing your airplane was to fly across that ray just when it came onto a cloud. how about the shadow?" "don showed how that could be, when he came in," chick agreed, "but that won't account for the crash of two airplanes." "but if scott had took up the dart--in the name of all-possessed!" sitting in the chair the boatman slapped his knee. "that's what it was. the dart flew one way. you was going another." he paused to emphasize his next words. "the two shadows showed, coming together!----" "that won't explain it," chick interrupted. "the airplanes were of the old style--like the war jennies, or old-style biplanes." "in that queer light, and with your minds keyed up to expect something----" "but how would it help if that did explain the spook tonight? we weren't flying around the other times!" chick was unconvinced. "that's so!" toby rubbed his chin. "besides, how does that work in with this about the mysterious airplane design being found here. let's have a look, what do you say?" chick uncurled the soggy paper, carefully, on the table. "in the name of all-possessed! nobody'd steal that! it don't mean a thing, does it?" "well--only the general body design and strut placement. and i don't see why they sketched in wings and control surfaces, on a structural skeleton." chick was puzzled. "hum! you know more about that than i would. son, it's a mystery!" "is it one mystery--or two?" very soberly chick looked up. "do you see how taking this tracing fits in with the spectre in the sky?" as toby shook his head and bent again over the tracery, chick went on, in the yellow lantern light. "we thought the haunting might be by some enemy of don's uncle, to ruin the airport business," he argued. "if that is so, then this about the tracing is a different mystery." "gosh-a-mighty! you're smart for your age!" toby looked up admiringly. "now, then, what reason would you say made anybody want to take this--" he put a stubby finger on the tracing, looking up with a curious intensity in his gaze that surprised and startled chick a little. "i--i guess i give that up." "i guess you'll have to! son--look at this thing. hold it up to the light!" astonished, chick did so. "notice anything odd about it?" "some of the ink has run----" "that's part of it, son. the part that has run is----" "wait!" cried chick, thrilling with a discovery. "the wings and the struts, and some of the 'empennage'--the tail assembly--is done in india waterproof ink!----" "not alone that." toby became very serious. "that's no design of an airplane, my lad. that's--but, here! gosh-a-mighty! i'm forgetting that you're sopping wet and cold, and the folks at home will be having a search party out after you. let's get my dory and i'll row you down to the 'base.'" he caught up the lantern as chick picked up the tracing. "wait!" begged chick. "if it isn't an airplane--what is it?" lantern in hand, toby turned to him. "it's the hull of an old-time sailing brig!" he declared. and with that he added a third mystery--or didn't he? chapter x a charm to clip ghost wings landing flares dropped by garry were still burning as don cut the ignition of the dragonfly. from a house adjoining the field they were in, a farmer came running to the airplane. "where are we?" don called eagerly. "is there a place near where they can take care of this pilot?" cried garry. "he's hurt--we don't know how badly." the farmer came closer. "hurt, eh!" he attended to the more important question first. "i don't know of any place for miles where you could take him. but i can telephone old ti-o-ga. he's an indian. lives a few miles back from the hudson. everybody knows him. he's a kind of 'medicine man' and he's a wonder with broken bones." he turned, informing don, over his shoulder, that the field was a few miles beyond catskill, a town in the hudson river valley. the pilot, his senses recovered, but suffering, spoke up. "old ti-o-ga? why, yes. get him. i've heard of him."[ ] "go with the gentleman, garry," don suggested. "when he has done his telephoning he may let you get the airport and tell uncle bruce what has happened to us." garry went away while don remained with the pilot, keeping his flares going for light and on the chance that a passing automobile on the adjacent road might stop and go for a physician. don was not deeply impressed by the offer of indian aid. garry returned very quickly. "i got the airport," he told his chum. "they were worried about us, and of course your uncle feels badly because we still have the mail." "i'm going to signal a passing car," don said. "if i can get the driver to take me to some place where i can get fuel, i'll fly back." "i'll stay with the pilot," garry volunteered. don had no trouble in inducing a motorist to give him a "lift" to a garage at some distance. ti-o-ga came in a car while don was gone. old, but straight and sturdy, the indian surprised garry: he arrived in a ford, wore american clothes and, if reticent, spoke to the point. "drink!" he ordered the pilot, offering a small cup of liquid taken from the car. the pilot, putting the liquid down his throat, sat in his cockpit quietly for a moment. "say!" he exclaimed, "that's great stuff, big chief!" "you feel like walk?" helped out, with some muttered exclamations as his limp arm was put to a strain, the man admitted that he felt much stronger. "i take you to house. strip! find what is wrong." the pilot, assisted by the farmer and by garry, made slow but steady progress to the farmhouse. there, while he waited, the indian gave garry a steady, and very curious observation. the youth began to feel uncomfortable. he had a feeling as though those bleak, steady eyes were boring through him. he shifted uneasily. "i be done soon," ti-o-ga remarked, rising at the call of "ready" and moving toward the next room where the pilot had been prepared for an examination, "then you tell me all troubles." "how did you know i had troubles?" garry was amazed. "i have--but how did you know that?" "i be back." garry sat quietly in the small, cozy living room, waiting. in a surprisingly short time the indian returned with the farmer. "chief ti," the farm owner remarked to garry, "chief ti is a wonder. he's got the man's arm set--not a bad fracture, he says. no internal injuries, and what he gave that chap to take will put him on his feet in short order. ti's a wizard at doctoring." "he said i had troubles," garry exclaimed. "how did he know?" "don't ask me," the farmer retorted, smiling. "old ti is a queer one and he can read people the way you'd read a book. can't explain how he does it; but i can see he's taken a liking to you--and just take my advice, buddy, and let him do what he wants, answer all his questions, and don't argue about his ways. he's indian--but they say he is the closest thing to a real magician this side of the world. he showed me some things, once, like the hindu fakirs do--creepy, but interesting." the indian beckoned to garry. "you come," he said, "i give you charm." "a charm!" garry repeated. "what for?--" then, recalling the advice just given him, he rose and followed the tall, dark figure. "i thank you, i mean to say--but i don't see how you know----" "i know." that was the end of the conversation. garry, at the other's sign, climbed into the old ford beside the driving seat which ti occupied. rapidly, skilfully, he was driven into the back country. the ride was very short, it seamed. good speed and clever handling of the wheel on a road free from traffic helped. "well," garry mused, "this is a queer business. first we try to guard the airlanes and see a spook crash in the sky; then we get lost and have to set down at the very best place--from the way that pilot was handled. now i'm bound for some indian tepee, i guess--to get a charm. for what? how does he know anything, and what does old ti know?" he soon discovered. "this is my house." the car stopped in front of a small, but neat frame building, a cottage whose windows gave out cheerful light. garry, accustomed to stories of frontier indians, gazed in astonishment as he was ushered into a neat, well-furnished living room with a telephone in one corner. at a wave of the slim, gnarled hand he sat down, quiet and mystified. from a rear room a woman, not altogether indian, and very pretty in a bold, strong-featured way, brought in cold meat, bread and cocoa which she put on a handy table. invited to eat, garry realized how ravenous he was and attacked the food with good will. "you like rest?" the indian asked when the girl, probably a daughter, removed the dishes and cups. "i'd rather go back and help my chum." "he not back yet. rest! you sleep, huh?" garry shook his head; but a drowsiness seemed to be creeping over him; his muscles felt heavy and inert; he struggled with the increasing desire to sleep, feeling some uneasiness as the steady eyes held without blinking, watching him intently. he relaxed, and began to dream an uneasy, garbled mass of disconnected flashes. he felt as though he drifted above a dark, dismal swamp and he saw again that spectral ship flying toward him. the dream altered. he seemed to be watching chick, in some dim light, examining a scroll or roll of paper-thin, almost transparent. soon he awoke. "i didn't mean to drop off--excuse me," he mumbled. then his faculties asserted themselves. he sat up, alertly. the indian!--had he put something in the cocoa? had he used the same methods garry had seen in stage demonstrations, to get a person into a helpless state in which they did as they were told and answered questions in a dreamy, far-away fashion? he looked around. through an open door he saw the tall, red-skinned man putting some objects into a small, dark-looking little pouch. the strings of its mouth he drew together as he returned to nod pleasantly at garry. "feel all good?" he asked. garry nodded. "i----" the man did not allow him to go on. "you troubled by ghost in the sky," he said. "you not think right answer about why! you take this." he held out the small pouch, several inches long, a little more in depth, apparently filled with some unrevealed contents, its string of rawhide tightly knotted to hold the mouth puckered, and a small, very odd wax seal in red, showing a swastika-cross, covering the top. "take," he repeated. garry held out his hand, hesitatingly, lost in wonder that the man knew about the spectral visitations that mystified the airlane guard. "hear, now. put over head." he gestured. garry, widening the strings, slipped the pouch over his head. "keep inside coat. go home. put in box for seven day! not touch! then--open!" "why?" demanded garry, surprised but suspicious. "why! that is good charm, boy! you worry about ghost wings." he made a clutching motion of fingers and thumb, as though wielding a pair of scissors. "you see ghost wings! i make charm to clip ghost wing!" garry, puzzled, stared; but the man tapped on the table, a slim, dark youth entered. ti-o-ga said "goodbye" and before he could muster any comment, garry was ushered to the car, the young indian took the wheel and, fingering his pouch, tucked inside his clothes, garry rode away. "a charm," he muttered, "a charm--to clip ghost wings! hope it works!" ----- footnote : while the name is necessarily changed, there lives, in the hudson river valley an aged indian "medicine man" whose herbal remedies and other curative methods are famous over a wide area: his "magic" is less widely known, but is in line with the possession of certain secrets of nature and of mental ability of a high order and amazed the youth by his businesslike and plainly successful methods. chapter xi the charm seems to work when don and garry, leaving the pilot to mend his bones and recuperate in the farmhouse, brought the mail down, they found chick fairly bursting with his adventures. his story had other interested listeners besides the youthful pilot and garry. doc morgan sat beside don, toby tew occupied a chair by the designing room table, and the airport owner, bruce mcleod, shared a wall bench with the control room operator, a close-mouthed, black-eyed man who was none too well-liked by the personnel of the new venture. everyone gave close attention while chick related his adventures. "in the name of all-possessed!" exclaimed toby, "if that was put in a movie, i'd be able to pack the palace when i showed it. i didn't hear all that, last night, chick-o!" "i was too excited to remember all the details," chick responded. he turned to garry. "you and don got lost, didn't you?" don nodded, smiling. "garry had all the adventures," he said. pressed for his story, garry told about the indian, his strange insight into the youth's mind, what he did, and what he gave. "i claim you ought to put that in your movie, i do," doc told toby. "i know old ti well. he learned me, he did, all i know about herb doctoring." "i went up there, not long since," toby stated. "wanted to hire him to make a 'personal appearance' on the stage of the palace with a film that was made up catskill way, with him in it. couldn't make any deal with him, though. but--gosh-a-mighty! think of him mesmerizing garry! in the name of all-thunderation! that's queer!" "it isn't any more queer than the chart--the tracing you say is a drawing of an old-time brigantine," declared don. "let's see that, now." chick went to the filing cabinets devoted to storage of accepted design tracings, hunted through a folder, kept under lock and key, and put the tracing on the table. an exclamation caused them all to turn. the control room operator was staring, astonished and pleased: he leaped to his feet. "so that's what you found!" he exclaimed, moving quickly forward. "brigantine-nothing! that's a sketch i--er--mislaid. i guess it got mixed up with the regular stuff and was brought in here--but how did it get to the swamps?" chick watched him with narrowed eyes. "a sketch," chick thought. "oh, yes! part of it in faded ink and part of it in india waterproof ink, the sort they use here!" he did not voice his suspicion. it came to his mind that the control room man would bear watching. through him, chick decided, they might get some clue to the mysteries they had encountered. "before i touch it," the man continued, "mr. mcleod, just take a look at the lower, left-hand corner and see if my initials are put in the angle of what is meant to be the bow of a new-shaped fuselage." "yes," admitted the airport manager, with a glance at the sketch. "j. v.--john vance. take it, and let's get out of here so the boys can go to work. they'll be paid by the aircraft company, and it's a good thing. they'll be paid! if any more trouble comes to our airport, i guess doc, and scott, won't draw any pay checks." scott, coming in from the adjoining office, laughed. "i'll 'haunt you' if i don't!" he chuckled. "i wish we could solve the mysteries!" garry spoke earnestly: he felt sorry for the harassed man who had put all his available capital into the new airport, who had enlisted his friends' savings in the swamp draining and expansion project. the engineers, garry knew, had been "called off" and their activity in the marsh had been stopped. it was of no use to add further expense, increase available runways or hangars. "solve the mystery of how i am going to meet unpaid bills," growled bruce mcleod. "you'll please me enough if you do that!" "uncle," don jumped from his seat on the table edge, "it was partly my fault that the mail was held back all night---" "oh--no!" the older man shook his head. "it was, in a way!" don insisted. "i should have flown straight here and tried to beat the storm, but i prevented the mail from coming in by going above the storm and getting lost. won't the steamship company give us another trial?" "i don't know. haven't bothered them." "why not try again?" garry suggested. "all pioneer work has to fail before it succeeds. they ought to let you have another chance." "i suppose they would." "see!" urged don, "scott could meet the ship. he'd never dive for any ghost," with a grin. "he likes spooks!" "i'd like to bring in the ocean mail, too," scott agreed. "well----" "you're elected!" chick exulted. "it's as good as done. and with, the chart tracing identified and claimed, it doesn't make any difference how it got into the old boathouse. maybe i ought to apologize to doc for accusing him. i do! i jumped to the notion he had taken it but he is proved innocent because he wasn't anywhere near the control room--and we don't know but what the paper blew out a window and was picked up by some visitor to the airport who went on a crabbing trip and put the paper down there by chance." chick felt that his explanation was rather lame, but he made it in an attempt to show doc morgan that he was no longer suspected of being a traitor to his employers. for some strange reason it began to seem as though the indian's mysterious pouch had some virtue. at any rate, everything became quiet around the airport. the seventh day arrived, and on its night the chums watched the dark skies without reward. no apparition of an airplane appeared: no pair of phantom ships materialized to enact their collision and disappear. with the spectre of the skies inactive, the rest of the mysteries also dropped into the background of attention. don was busy with his work on the tracings for the all-metal airplane which he was helping scott to create. garry studied airplane design while he prepared and photographed the multitudes of blue-prints that had to be made for each new model the aircraft corporation planned to try out. chick was kept fully occupied: tabulating, filing and procuring for the builders such blue-prints as they required, engaged his whole time. his amateurish effort to watch the control room man had brought no fruit: after a day or two chick had given up that activity. "well," remarked don, as the trio stood on the control tower balcony, about to leave after a futile vigil, with no developments to report, "the seventh night has come, friday, the thirteenth is almost past--and we can----" "your uncle wants to see you--right away!" doc morgan interrupted. "what's the matter?" "scott was to fly out to meet the _caledonia_--to pick up the mail and fly it in! scott's been hurt by a prop that flew off its hub----" three excited faces turned to the stairway. "he might want you to fly the mail!" cried chick. "i hope he does!" garry told don. "what a chance!" don kept his hope unvoiced. but he did hope! unaware that their excitement made them join don to answer a summons not meant for them, chick and garry were at don's heels when he entered his uncle's private office. "what a break!" the harassed airport executive grumbled. "i took your suggestion, as you know, don. the _caledonia_ is bringing special mail pouches from liverpool. scott was warming up the dart. just when we need the ship and the pilot most--the propeller hub loosened, the casting broke or it wanted oil and burned out. whatever happened, scott's out of the running, and so is the dart. i sent for you----" "mr. mcleod!" chick broke in, forgetting manners in his excitement, "we went over the dragonfly today! she's in apple pie order. can't don take her aloft? can't he fly the mail?" "can you?" the man turned to his nephew. "i can--but how does scott pick up the mail?" the maneuver was explained to him. "can't garry and chick go along?" begged don, generously including his comrades. "they could help a lot, and maybe make up by helping me for the slower speed of the dragonfly." it was arranged. eager, excited, with a possible contract for mail flying at stake, three earnest airlane enthusiasts got their flying togs and necessary articles from the disabled dart, signal lights to identity the new ship, warmed up the dragonfly, and were ready to take off. "i'll radio the _caledonia_ about the change," mr. mcleod said. "now--boys--do your best--and be--careful!" "oh, we will!" chick waved a hand from the cockpit. "anyhow--we've got to come through. we carry a charm to clip ghost wings, you know!" chick always boasted a trifle too early! chapter xii don flies the mail taking off into the july south-wind, don waited only long enough to observe the regulation compelling an airplane to be well beyond the airport limits before turning. then he began a turning climb to nose into the east, crossing long island. although their course did not take them near the swamps which had been so closely connected with their mystery--or mysteries!--don glanced in that direction. garry, behind him, busy adjusting the tube of the student's communication helmet by which he could talk to don, did not see what the pilot noted. don shook the ship gently. garry looked up. chick, behind them, getting a life belt inflated from an air bottle, because this would be a part of the mail flight requiring him to run a slight risk of immersion in the sea, looked up at the same time. don's hand, waved toward the swamps at the left wingtip, as they came around, saw a curious object over the swamps. they were too far away to note it with much certainty; but garry was sure that the queer, ungainly thing rising steadily into the air was one of the aircraft whose horizontal blades, above the fuselage, enabled it to take off and rise without first attaining the flying speed required by an ordinary airplane. its huge propeller blades acted both as power and support surfaces. "an auto-gyro," garry said into the helmet communication tube. don shook his head. "what did you tell him?" chick bent far forward to shout to garry. "said it was an auto-gyro!" "no!" chick had sharp eyes. "it isn't the modern kind, anyhow. it's what they call a 'helicopter,' garry." garry looked a second time, carefully. "chick's right," he murmured to don. "he says it's a helicopter--it has the lifting blades that let it rise straight upward and then it has a 'tractor' propeller forward that sends it through the air horizontally. it can go higher by giving the horizontal blades more speed, stay almost stationary by adjusting speed, or settle lower by slowing the blades. the tractor prop gives it forward speed. chick's right." don nodded. that had been the reason he shook his head, to correct garry's terminology, because all the more modern auto-gyros he had seen employed an adjustable-angle horizontal set of blades for both upward and forward speed, and had refined the tractor propeller at the nose. "but what is a helicopter doing over the swamp?" he wondered, "and where did it come from?" with a meeting arranged between the amphibian dragonfly and the big trans-atlantic liner, there was no time to investigate. "does that helicopter have anything to do with the mystery?" garry spoke through the gossport tube. don could not give an answer. "it might," garry continued. "only i don't see just how. the spook ships we saw come together in the sky were old-fashioned biplanes. they weren't real, either, because you flew right into the cloud, don." the pilot nodded. their speed rapidly took them eastward, and away from the swamp; but as he set his course, bearing slightly north, crossing one of the island's flying fields at a good altitude and with barren island's new bennett field back of the right wing's trailing edge, he puzzled his brain a great deal about that strange ship rising from the swamps. why was it there at all? had it been forced to settle there? or--did someone keep it there? if so, he thought, for what purpose? "with the airport so handy, nobody would store a helicopter anywhere in a mucky swamp," he decided. "it must have been a compulsory landing." with the lights of coney island, far to the right, and of long beach, and the rockaways showing their summer activities more nearly under the trucks, don nosed out over the sea. there he opened the throttle almost full-gun. they must meet the liner as far out as possible. the fuel supply had been calculated to take them a hundred and thirty miles out and back with the essential safety reserve; don had a notion to stretch that distance a trifle, because every mile the airplane saved the ship before the return would mean that much more rapidity in bringing in the mail. many ships came up over the horizon, were passed, and receded behind the tail. chick's sharp eyes first discerned the special signal carried for the occasion by the liner they sought to meet. "good work," garry commended as chick poked him three times and indicated the tiny trio of white lights set above a blue one on the masthead of the approaching boat, just coming up, it seemed, over the horizon line. he gave don the position. the youthful pilot shifted rudder and altered the course somewhat, gunning up to full speed. "we will meet her ten miles further out then we expected to," he murmured, pleased. that would mean faster time back for ten miles more of the distance from shore, and ten miles at their speed as contrasted to ten miles at the liner's best, compensated for the difference in rapidity of flight between the dragonfly and the faster dart that could not make the flight. they bade fair to establish a mail ship-to-shore record. chick sent over the flash-rocket that signalized their approach. the vessel's searchlight leaped to life, probed for and touched their wings, darting swiftly aside to avoid blinding the pilot. the liner came on at full speed. don dropped the nose, cut the gun and approached at an angle calculated to bring down the amphibian to the water at a point near, to one side of, and just ahead of the course the liner pursued. the vessel's lights looked beautiful, seen from the air. chick and garry thrilled to the wonderful spectacle. don's elation came more from the precision movements with which the mail pouches, buoyed with a self-igniting water flare on the buoy, went over side in the glare of the liner's searchlight. calculated with skill, favored by good control, don's line of descent set the amphibian's pontoons on the fairly smooth sea in a line that sent the liner sweeping by his wingtip with not a dozen yards to spare. tossing by in her wake, the buoyed pouches, accentuated by their marking light, were in a direct line with the airplane's course. garry motioned to chick. his part was to clamber to the strut, cling to a bracing wire, catch up the light buoy. garry's office was that of observer, to align don's maneuvers with chick's activity. don had done well, so far: garry would give him all the aid he could to complete the maneuver. seeing them safely past, though shaken by the ship's turbulent wake, the man at the searchlight swung it onto their tail, to give chick all the light possible. chick saw the buoy bobbing closer. "a point to the right, don!" garry called into his tube. "he can't quite reach--that's better!" an instant later he spoke again. "cut the gun, don!" the dragonfly, skittering along on the top of the moiling wake began to settle into it, more shaken than before by the immersion into a swirl of cross-currents; but the instant of delayed speed was all that chick required. his outreaching hand stretched on straining muscles. fingers alert and agile gripped the rope bound around the buoy. "full-gun, don!" up, and out of the danger of an upset, with engine roaring, they rose. chick, clinging to the mail pouches, held on. garry, stretching out his arm, as chick swung inboard, caught the buoy and gave chick the use of both hands to cling in the increasing blast of air caused by the climb. almost, for an instant, chick's heart fell into his flying boots: spray-wet, a wire slipped in his grasp! "cut!" garry called to don. leveled, with power reduced, the ship, for an instant, lost its climb and barely held safe margins of forward momentum. in that instant chick mended his grip, catching a strut. with the mail pouches drawn to the cockpit floor, with garry, his hands free, aiding, chick got quickly and safely back to his place. "oh-kay!" he shrilled, delightedly, as he snapped on his safety belt. gunning up at garry's relayed signal, don made his climbing turn. they were pointing straight for the airport when he revved up to his full power. the mail flight would be a success. all they had to do was to fly straight, top speed, set down and be applauded. they need not cross the swamps of so much mystery and fear. they could come in from the east, landing sidewise to the wind. don flew the distance to the point where they sighted the airport with his heart singing to the tune of singing wires, laughing with the purr of the motor. the successful termination of the mail flight was in sight. then the mystery helicopter struck! chapter xiii war maneuvers intent on getting their mail pouch to the airport in record time, the eyes of don, garry and chick, in the dragonfly, were peering forward and downward to locate the wind-cone, get wind direction and save every precious second even during the approach to the runway. unexpected, startling, disconcerting, there came, not a hundred feet in front of the nose, the roaring hiss of a rocket rising to burst, in a brilliant, eye-stunning flash of vivid white just ahead. don instinctively side-slipped. the flash, coming without warning, upset his self-control, made him think that he might be plunging his chums into some unseen danger. to speed into that area of still blazing fire was unthinkable. don's side-slip got the ship away fifty feet: then he caught the wings, brought the ship to its forward, level flight. roaring upward, a second messenger of terror, with its blazing tail, seemed to be coming straight under the right wing. garry, seeing it, screamed a warning into the helmet communication tube. "don--one's coming--bank left!" don kicked rudder, moving the stick to tip the wings. he gunned up, in the bank. the ship swung, almost on wingtip. again almost ahead of the new swing, came that terror from below. don saw it. he skidded out of the turn by giving excess rudder, caught the skid, and swiftly adjusted stick and bar to get on a level keel. his quick wit told him that they were almost exactly at the altitude where those deadly fireworks were bursting. in their excited, upset state all three youths supposed the rockets were the result of some sort of celebration. the real meaning did not occur to them. one thing they all realized was that they were over an area of the utmost danger: no mind could foresee the track of bomb or rocket. "they don't see us, don't know we're up here!" chick muttered as don planned his next moves with quick and cool precision. don had regained his self-control. "i'll dive, to get away with the greatest speed!" don had decided. nose down, engine full speed, he dived. the needle of the altimeter began to hasten its backward swing. a brilliant shaft of white struck upward, picking them out, throwing up around them a sea of vivid illumination. instantly don changed his tactics. to level off, as he intended, to come out of the dive with still a fair margin of altitude to give him ease of handling well above earth was impossible. the searchlight might prevent him from seeing the ground, might blind him. he was plunging straight down toward it. full-gun, he drew back on the stick. up tipped the nose. wires sang with the fierce wind. the ship trembled. at nearly two hundred miles an hour the ship began to climb in the huge arc of a "loop." don had purpose behind his shift of plan. while he had never executed it in darkness, he recalled the maneuver known as an immelmann turn, said to have been devised by a german war ace, by which altitude above an adversary was gained swiftly, with a change of flying direction. as the ship soared on its vast curve, it came, soon, to the top of the loop. it was precisely "on its back," upside down. the controls were heavy, inert in response. had he maintained control elements in the same position the engine should have carried the ship, with its speed almost nil, just to the point where the nose would have dropped by engine weight, acted on by gravity. then, going down on the descending side of the wide arc, it could be caught, at the bottom of the loop, leveled, and sent onward. don did not delay for that to happen. instead he shifted the stick far to the side, holding it there. before the nose dropped, the slight forward speed enabled the ailerons to act: the wing dropped, the other came up, and since don held the slick steady, the ship, from being on its back, executed half of a "barrel roll," so that it was right side up, and, naturally, at the top of a big circle, pointing its nose exactly backward from its original direction. quickly don caught the ship's wings as it turned on its fore-an-aft axis. thus he had climbed to the top of a big loop, had turned the ship from being upside down to the correct flying position, facing back on the course. he kept the throttle full open, flying level for an instant. they were looking away from the search-lamp. its beams no longer menaced don's clear vision. besides, being so much higher, the rays were spread, diffused. but they were going back, and for all that don knew, the force of rockets might still enable the missiles to reach them. he knew, with sureness, that no chance celebration accounted for the rockets, by that beam of light coming up at them from a spot where no searchlight should have been! he wanted to be doubly safe, to return to the proper course. he began, almost immediately, a banked turn, at the same time going upward. in that climbing turn they both gained altitude and returned gradually to the proper course. chick clamped his gauntleted hands. "good work!" he screamed in shrill elation. garry, too, commended, his voice more subdued as he realized that his tones went through a tube directly into ear outlets clamped close to the young pilot's head. "fine, don!" he complimented the flyer. don nodded his appreciation. his face, though, was still creased with lines of concern. "that's somebody with a deadly purpose!" he murmured. "no fireworks were being sent up for fun. they were meant to upset us. who could be so mean? where did that searchlight beam come from? the airport? i was too excited to be able to trace it--right in my eyes, the way it was." he peered over the side: the rays were gone. the nose was coming toward its proper point. don adjusted his controls. they had first made a great circle, outward from its center, and upward in its arc. then they had continued to climb, but in an arc that was on a different plane. it took them far out over the swamp. garry, sighting the airport, saw that don brought the nose to its proper line with the revolving beacon as the beam flicked past in its blinking circuit of the skies. chick, staring, with neck craned, over the side, saw something far more deadly. "garry!" he yelled at the top of his capacity, "tell don--helicopter coming--up----" garry caught the call, but not its import. he followed the line of chick's pointing arm. precious seconds were thus expended. the strange, menacing craft gained an advantage in the delay of locating it and of discovering its purpose. don had to be told. then he was in such a position that the left wing hid the object of garry's excited explanation. garry, over the edge of the wing, saw that the helicopter, its horizontal blades bringing it higher, the tractor propeller drawing it forward, rose toward them on a slanting line that seemed meant to bring the odd craft up under their own ship. chick, as don altered the course to get the wing out of his line of vision, sent over a parachute flare, lighting up the scene with its white, revealing gleam. don saw their adversary. from that had come the rockets: he felt sure of it. flung out, or discharged from some outboard contrivance, their ignition powder had sent them in calculated proximity to the dragonfly--for some deadly purpose!--to put the ship out of control, no doubt! "there's a man in that cockpit!" garry told don, better able to see past the swiftly revolving horizontal blades as chick's flare turned night into day beneath them. chick, looking, saw more. "it's--it's--" he could hardly make his lips form the words. "it's the--thing that never--was--the man who never--lived!" he saw the green of the head covering, the slick, glistening, formless body in its slippery oilskins, the flicker of light reflected from shiny rubber gloves. up at them came the helicopter, its course calculated to fall on an angle that would drive them upward, or turn them away from the airport, or--if don sought to side-slip--bring them on a level with that dreadful thing at its controls. what then? in any maneuver they could execute, don wondered, what would that thing do? chapter xiv the swamp demon slow and methodical in his mental processes, garry was rather stunned by the situation the chums were confronting. don, climbing, listened for information. none came through the gossport tube. chick, alert, with an impulsive quick flash, got an inspiration. to dive meant going in line with the flight of bomb or rocket, or--if that strange thing in the helicopter really was deadly in its intent--bullets. a side-slip would be no better for them. their climb did not get them away quickly enough. perhaps the dragonfly had superior climbing ability, better maneuvering capacity; but no ship could outfly those messengers of fire--the rockets! "garry!" chick prodded his chum. the older youth turned. "tell don--a lot of barrel rolls!" garry saw the utility of the maneuver. they had already executed a half-roll, turning from upside down to level. one after another, in succession, a series of barrel rolls would get them, sidewise, away. they would lose very little altitude. best of all, the stunt would send them off in an evolution that would make it almost impossible to catch them, by angular direction of the missiles, because chick knew a variation--and gave it. "tell don--barrel rolls, and reverse rolls!" garry realized the value of chick's wit, relayed the idea. down went a wing. up went the other. over and over, the dragonfly revolved on its tail-and-nose line. three rolls followed one another. at the end of the third, don checked the ship. down went the nose. short was the dive, to gain speed. up came the nose. with the wing that had swung upward before now down, he went into a triple reverse roll. on the descent of their dive the dying flare had shown them the helicopter still climbing. its surprised occupant evidently had the large tube they saw at one side trained at a certain angle. to change it took time. don's reverse maneuver sent them almost directly underneath the ship. but there their wings were in danger. checking the ship, don began the disconcerting, but very useful stunt termed a "falling leaf," in which by alternately dropping one and then the opposite wing, the ship descended in a sort of zig-zag drop, much like the erratic course of a leaf falling from a tree. twelve hundred feet above the swamp, don leveled, and with full-gun on sent the dragonfly unerringly down-wind and straight at the runway approach lights a mile ahead. they must get the mail in, he knew. swift, at its best, the craft sped toward its goal. don cut the gun, began the approach glide. far behind, unable to keep up, or, perhaps, giving up the chase, the demon in the helicopter--human or otherwise--stayed aloft. down to the runway in a well-calculated glide don swung his ship. "hooray!" exulted chick. "don--garry--we win!" the trucks leveled with the tail. the ship lost speed. its wheels set their tires on the concrete and the ship, rumbling, ran forward. instantly don cut the gun. mr. mcleod, the control room chief, and doc morgan ran up. garry tossed out the mail pouches. "the ship-to-shore record is just tied!" cried mcleod. "don--i owe you a lot for this--and your friends, too!" "all right, uncle!" don swung about in his cockpit. "doc--mr. vance--has anything been done about the dart?" "why--ah--" doc rubbed his chin as the older executive, with the control room chief at his side, raced for the waiting car in which the mail, still in its sacks, would be rushed to the new york post office, "yes, don. they got a new prop set!" "good enough." "why?" asked garry. don had not loosened the chin strap of his helmet. he clambered hastily out of his cockpit, onto a wing, to the earth. "who'll go with me?" he cried, as garry and chick came tumbling out of their places. "garry--chick! which one?" "where? for what?" asked garry. "back to the swamp--to find that thing and make sure that it never molests any more pilots." "i will!" cried chick. "i will!" garry's words were shouted in the same instant. "no! only one can go in the two-place dart!" said don. "she's all fueled up for the flight, you know, but there aren't three places." "but--" began chick. "i need one of you for ground work," don cried. "i have a plan! two of us go aloft, fly back to the swamp. maybe we can get there before the thing has a chance to set down. maybe we can fly around until we locate it. but somebody has to stay here in the control tower!" "why?" asked garry. don spoke earnestly. "because--the control room chief took back a tracing, claiming he owned it--and because there was the beam of that searchlight on us tonight--and there isn't another searchlight that i know of near!" "oh!" garry saw light as don spoke in his clipped, alert way. "yes!" chick cried, "you think the control chief is working with the one in the helicopter--they are the ones who are trying to ruin your uncle." "yes!" don was already hurrying into the wide open hangar, where he saw several mechanicians adjusting the hub bolts on the small, swift dart. "but the chief of control has gone with your uncle!" garry objected. they were inside the hangar as don answered, putting his words in low, swift earnest sentences. "only to the car. he'll slip back here. we mustn't leave him free to signal----" "i'll stay!" chick declared. "i'll stick to him as tight as his skin, don. i'll be a part of the airlane guard--and if he signals, i'll be there--and we can get doc----" "no! trust nobody!" garry whispered. "not even doc! don't forget he was the one in the boathouse when you found the tracing." on swift feet don raced away to the men completing adjustments on the propeller assembly. "i'm taking the dart aloft," he said quickly. "come on, garry--run her out!" in ten minutes, while chick watched, and kept an eye on doc and on the control chief, who stood watching in the hangar doorway, don revved up the newly warmed engine, lifted the tailskid from the concrete, the chocks were dragged from under the wheels, and up from the runway leaped the dart, with garry, adjusting the gossport, transferred from the other craft. they would scotch the demon of the swamps--or do their best to end his unexplained but menacing career. stars twinkled in the night sky as they roared straight for the haunt of mysteries. and the demon was ready for them! chapter xv the demon's lair straight and true don sent the swift, light dart to its mark. over the swamp they had last seen the helicopter. in the half hour that had elapsed it could, of course, be far away. "but i don't believe it is," garry murmured into his gossport tube. don, listening, agreed with garry's surmise. "did you notice how that thing looked while chick's flare burned?" garry continued his conversation. "under the big, bulky body, the helicopter had two things jutting out--i think they were pontoons. they have some sort of special bracing, and shock absorbers, so it can set down on land; but i am sure that the two projections were pontoons--and that, don, tells us that the helicopter can get down on the water just as easily as a regulation amphibian." don agreed as he watched the horizon line ahead. "that thing is human," garry added. "ghosts don't set off rockets." once more don was in full agreement. they scanned the dark, silent sky around them and ahead of the nose as they approached, on swift wings, the scene of their recent struggle to escape annihilation and to get the mail in on time. "not a thing in sight!" garry checked don's decision. where had the mystery ship gone? as he asked the question, garry removed the speaking tube from his lips and bent his eyes downward, over the cockpit cowling. he searched the unrevealing water, grass and ooze of the swamp. "don!" his lips were again at the tube, "forward of the right wing, just where the fifth brace connects to the leading edge covering, i see a little light flickering. there--the wing is over it. look! in a second it will be just at the trailing edge--there it is!" don saw the flicker. as he started downward in a tight spiral, to keep close over the area and get lower, garry spoke quickly. "no, don!" he objected. "stay high, and go on away. then we will climb higher and come back." don took the ship out of the tight spiral, but turned his head inquiringly. "it might be a lure!" garry explained. don saw the logic of his chum's reasoning: if the demon, as he thought of that strange occupant of the helicopter, wished to draw them down into a trap, it--or he--would chose such a ruse. don, lifting the nose, soared away, climbing. a mile away he banked around, and returned. "there it is, again!" garry, observing, indicated the flicker. it was more vivid than the intermittent glow of marsh gas which they saw in spots where rotted vegetation gave off its luminous aura. "he is trying to lure us down, i'm sure," garry declared. adjusting the controls so that the ship, well-balanced, flew itself for a moment, don scribbled a note, passing it to garry. "i don't know," garry responded, reading and considering the communication. "it might be safe and it might not to go down. i know we can't get anywhere flying around up here; but anybody as deadly as that demon is dangerous to get close to." don hesitated. he wished to beard the deadly one in his lair, to come to close grips; he did not desire to risk garry's safety without his chum's consent. nevertheless that was what he had asked for a volunteer to help him with. garry, he knew, was cautious, not cowardly. therefore don hesitated. once more garry's steady voice came to his ears. "how about doing this?" garry asked, "let's fly away as though we hadn't seen the lure, get over the airport, and signal by blinking the flying lights. the demon can't read them that far off, and we won't be dropping flares to warn him. we can tell chick we have located our 'bad man' and he can get your uncle, with the police, to surround the marsh. then we can start sending over flares, go down, and guide the officers. they will catch the demon if he runs, and, by closing in on all the paths, he can't get away." don agreed by switching the nose quickly in the proper direction. over the control tower they made a glide. with the flying lights snapping on and off, don spelt out a signal to chick as he held the dart in a tight, banked circle. no response came, the control tower remained unresponsive. its pilot signal beam, a small spot, did not flicker on and off to spell the "o. k." don expected from his watching chum. chick, as a matter of fact, was otherwise occupied. "let's set down," garry suggested. "the demon will probably wait, hoping we will go over again and see his lure. he must have meant us harm or he wouldn't have set those rockets to strike the dragonfly." don, flashing the "must land" signal of distress with his blinking flying lights, got no response: he decided to risk approach without the signal, and finally tumbled out of the dart with garry already on the ground. leaving the dart idling, slipping chocks under the wheels, don and garry hastened into the big main hangar. it was empty, echoing, deserted. so, too, they found the upper offices. "there has been an awful 'shindy' in the designing department," garry whispered, training his finger, at the door, after flashing on the office lights. "somebody has tried to break into the locked cabinets, and there is a wastebasket turned over and a chair upset. there must have been a fight in there." don, looking, agreed. "come on!" he muttered, "something has happened here. uncle is in new york, of course. he hasn't had time to get back from delivering the mail we flew in. but where is the control room crew, and the hangar man, and doc, and--chick?" up the stairway, not replying, garry followed him. "nobody in here!" don turned a dismayed, and frightened, look on his chum, who responded with equal concern in his face. "something has happened," whispered garry. at once he became practical. "don, we can't stay here to find out what's wrong. you want to capture the demon. run down and check your fuel, while i telephone the police station and report this--and ask for help on our 'round-up.'" don raced back down the stairways. garry, rejoining him, a scant ten minutes later, was very sober. "chief wasn't at the station," he reported. "man at desk seemed to be half asleep. said the chief had been called away on a special errand. wouldn't say how soon he could get help out here. there's a mystery about all this, don. what shall we do?" "run up and leave a note for uncle," don counseled. "i'm filling the tank. if we can't get help, we'll handle this ourselves!" "how?" "i'll go aloft, fly over the swamp, locate that area, and act as if i have discovered the lure for the first time, if it is still there. "and i think the demon is waiting, sure we'll take his bait!" he added. garry scribbled an informing message for the airport owner, detailing their purpose, and what they had experienced and the condition of the airport. then he rejoined don, the chocks were removed, and as he stepped away, with a wave, don, alone, sent the dart aloft. hardly waiting to see the fleet raft begin its trip toward the scene of their many mysteries, garry hurried down to the wharf and water runway, down which the land-and-water types of craft were sent from the hangar: to one side was a landing stage for passengers from seaplanes, and at the end of that lay tied the "crash boat," a swift, electrically propelled cruising launch kept always ready in case of any mishaps to seaplanes or other craft over the bay. to clamber in, unleash the swift craft, and swing it out from the wharf with its speedy, quiet motor humming a low, soft drone, was the work of a moment for garry, whose assignment in an emergency was at the speed control of the "crash boat." the prow of the speedy vessel turned north, angling across the inlet to skirt the point of land he must turn to get to the swampy channels beyond. garry knew the channels quite well, and, in the darkness, with only a dim gleam showing from his small forward light, a double, red-and-green cruising lantern, he was able to scan the starry sky and, as he coursed along the shore, passing the mouths of inviting channels, to discern, quite low, and inland, the flying lights of don's ship. their plan was simple. don, cruising, in the air, would discover if that lure called him, tempted him to set down--perhaps to some dreadful fate. garry, in the silent-motored, and fast little "crash" launch, would follow the shore to a channel known as crab channel. down its somewhat deep and broad course he could turn inland, coming closest to the scene of their mission. then, hidden from inland eyes by tall grass, he could use a strong flashlamp to signal to don, who would be circling wide. if don saw the signal, and thus knew that garry was ready, he would put out his flying lights. then, dropping low, he would circle over the area garry must reach. with his own motive power so quiet, garry could locate easily the sharp, intermittent periods of noise as don alternately fed full-gun and gunned down. the noise, they knew, and don's low altitude, would fully occupy the attention of their quarry. don would hold his tight circle, climbing a trifle, gliding, keeping his motor alternately full-gun and still. garry, creeping in through the most available channel offshoot, could locate the object of the ruse and then, surprising him, set off a self-igniting flare, attack, and at least hold the demon, victim of the surprise, until don could set down and help make his capture certain. everything went smoothly. garry gave his signal. don's low flying lights winked to blackness. over the swamp, two hundred feet up, he cruised back toward some hidden adversary, menacing, terrible, watchful. swiftly, silently, garry's light motor impelled the "crash" launch up a channel which, with his alert ears guiding him, brought him closer and closer to the dark spot wherein, from the water level, he saw a weird sight. floating on a still, shallow pool, supported by its queerly designed pontoons, the helicopter was hardly visible in the shadowy eel grass: its horizontal blades, tilted by some device to a vertical line, made only a thin, invisible angle to the sky, although garry, from his lower point of vantage, saw the outline against a starry background. intermittently, from the cockpit, and thus concealed and throwing its beam upward only, came the periodic flickers of a handkerchief-wrapped flash torch. its intermittent, dim glow illuminated the almost shapeless form and backward-thrown head of the thing that never was, the man who never lived. tide-drifted, flare in hand, garry floated toward the demon's lair. chapter xvi chick traces the tracing seemingly unaware that chick dogged his steps, the control room chief, whose initials, j. v., had proved the baffling tracing to be his property, went from the runways to his tower quarters. doc morgan, following chick, appeared at the door to the control room a minute after the youth had seated himself unobtrusively, in a chair in a dark corner. "you might as well go home," the control room chief dismissed his assistant who turned from an observation window where he had stood scanning the sky, and taking his hat, said "goodnight." his chief, paying no attention to doc as the latter lounged in the doorway, walked to the windows and glanced in several directions towards the heavens. chick sat quite still. doc knew he was there, he saw; but doc was evidently interested in his own thoughts, and, beyond giving chick a pleasant wink, ignored his presence. vance, the control chief, assured himself that there was no immediate need for his services for landing ships. he adjusted several switches to leave the essential lighting of approaches going against don's return, and then walked over to the radio table in one corner. chick, watching, saw that the man's thoughts were far away from duty. watching unobtrusively, he saw vance lean his head on the hand supported by an elbow on the table. doc, still lounging, seemed forgotten, and appeared to be satisfied. "they are both thinking about the same thing. that's my guess," chick told himself. "doc had something to do with that tracing that turned up in a boathouse in the marsh, and mr. vance knows it. and doc knows he knows it, too! i'll sit tight and see what happens." he had no long vigil. apparently so deep in his thoughts that he forgot the others, vance sat in a brown study for a moment: chick, quick of eye, observed that the control chief was not so oblivious as he pretended. "he's watching doc," he decided. the silence was broken by doc's amused voice. "well, j. v., go ahead and unlock the drawer. you want to, you do, and you know it, you do that! well, go on. do it! i'd like to know what that sketch means, i would. let's see it again, eh?" with a start of surprise that chick sensed as "acting," the other looked around quickly. "oh! hello! what's that, doc?" "you heard me." "about the tracing, it was." "yep." "rats!" the man leaned back, arms behind his head, carelessly locking his fingers as he pretended to laugh. "doc, you're pretty interested in that, aren't you? considering where it was found----" "yes, considering where it was found--" doc repeated the words with a meaning that differed from the other man's phrase. "considering that it was supposed to be a sketch of a new design for an airplane, and i saw our young friend, chick, discover it when the wind yanked it out of a drawer--" he forgot his mannerism and spoke directly, crisply, "i wonder if you go over there to work on it in secret--eh?" the man swung around in his chair. "as likely as that you go there to hunt sea-marsh stuff for medicine," he snapped. "it was stolen from me, as a matter of fact!" he turned his eyes on doc, accusingly. "not by me, brother not by me, not it! no, sir! you got it back, anyhow, so what's the odds how it went? what is it--besides a sketch of a new aircraft?" chick became more alert, more intent: he had to hold in check his impulse to hitch forward in his chair. the answer might be interesting. the control chief laughed. "besides a drawing of an airplane--what could it be, i wonder?" "look here!" doc left the doorsill that had supported him, and took a few steps closer to the other man. "see here," he repeated, "do you recollect when the engineers were draining the swamp, and found a skeleton of some poor old codger who was supposed to be one of the old pirate band that used to hang around new york, a good many dozen years ago?" chick started. a pirate! he recalled that the local newspapers had printed several lines of historical fact, hinting that the bones found in the swamp might have been a relic of days of piracy in the harbors and bays, the sea and the sound, in and around long island and new york. suddenly something that had never before seemed of importance to him flashed across the youth's agile mind. among the piratical names important in history of activity under the skull and cross-bones, none had stood out more than that of morgan. and before him stood a man whose name was "doc" morgan! he suppressed his tendency to utter a cry of surprise at his discovery; his ears became even more intent as he held his voice and his quivering nerves in check. "oh, yes, i do recall something about the skeleton and piracy," the control chief remarked, carelessly. "well, now, you do, do you? is that so?" doc's tone was sarcastic. "do you happen to recall that pirates used to sail in brigantines, and such-like ships? yes, you do! sure, you do! and there is a story to the effect that one time an old brigantine was throwed up onto the mud, it was, in a gale, off the very swamp where that skeleton was found!" "you don't say!" "i do say!" the control chief was obviously interested. "how do you know?" "who would know better than a morgan?" chick's wriggle of excitement went unobserved. "that's so," vance remarked. "you are named the same as one of the old buccaneers, at that! say, doc--tell you the facts: "i was with the engineers when they discovered that skeleton." "i knew it all the time. so was i." "oh, yes--i recollect, you were," vance agreed, while chick listened and tried to register in his memory every look, every phrase, every intonation of the two men. there was either a fresh mystery leaping to the fore, or the explanation of many mysteries was about to come into the light. "well--" doc paused significantly. vance cried that he did not understand that hint. "if you mean that anything was found, you know as well as i do that nothing was," he finished. "no," doc argued, coming closer, but no longer sarcastic. "no, vance, nothing was found. but the finding of that skeleton, it brought out all that about the pirates, it did. yes, sir, it did that! and what's to say all the talk about the pirates didn't show somebody--who--already--had a--map-or chart--that it meant something!" "let's see it!" chick, forgetting the mission he was detailed to pursue, forgetting his former suspicions of doc or of vance, and intent only on that new topic--a mysterious, concealed map or chart, hidden among the intricate lines of a design supposed to be for an airplane, startled the two men by his exclamation. vance, wheeling, studied him a moment, evidently becoming satisfied that chick's interest was as purely on account of the new idea as was his own or that of doc. "why, sure! you've seen it, already, anyhow," the control chief conceded. "tell the truth, you two, i can't make any more of it than you did. the day that the skeleton was found, after you had all gone away, one of the engineers took me to one side, and said he had seen a queer thing when he was in the old boathouse trying to hire a dory, to get to the place where the skeleton had been discovered, and where all the excitement was centered. he had seen a half open drawer in the table there at the boathouse, and in it was a tracing paper, pretty old, and seeming to be of an airplane. it was so curious to see it there that he mentioned it and i took him in our power launch--the crash boat--to the scene of the excitement, and then cruised back to the boathouse for a look at that tracing. it was just what you've seen. well, i sat there, all alone, studying it, but i couldn't make anything out of it." he turned and began sorting keys on a bunch he drew from his trousers as he prepared to open the drawer of the radio table. "at first i thought what chick did when he first saw it. there was part of an aircraft series, stolen or mislaid and carried there by some visitor." "then what did you think, afterward!" chick asked eagerly. "i wondered, but i didn't actually decide much of anything," vance answered. "well, you know how a fellow does when he's absentminded, studying, or something--draws marks on paper!" "yes! i've seen you do that when you were in a brown study," chick agreed. "you draw--let's see--j. v." "exactly what i do!" vance agreed. "well, you two, believe it or not, while i sat there, thinking, i drew my initials on the table, and one set got on the corner of the tracing. i didn't see how it mattered, and i meant to bring the thing here anyhow. so i let them stand." "but you left it there," contended doc, "left it, you did. yet you claimed it, you did so, as yours!" "yes. i dropped it in the drawer when a hail came for me to bring the crash launch to help my boss. i wasn't control chief then, only an engineer working out angles and distances across the swamp for the airport extension," vance declared. "i forgot all about the tracing until i read in the papers about the piracy and the hints about lost treasure and all that folderol. then, when chick so kindly brought in the tracing, i recollected my initials--and there you are." chick reserved his opinion about the truth and reasonableness of the explanation. certainly it was a point in vance's favor that he was already willingly slipping a key into the table drawer. "why!--look here!" vance cried, "this drawer isn't--locked!" he dragged it open. at once chick knew, just as he saw that doc realized, that the tracing was gone. had vance made up all that story? had someone picked the lock? was that queerly disguised tracery of lines more than an airplane design? who had it? chick took no time to puzzle out answers. "never mind, for now!" he exclaimed. "i wasn't such a dummy, after all. while i had that tracing, before it got lost again i decided to make a blue-print of it. i did, too!" "good!" exclaimed vance, and doc nodded. "get it!" he urged. chick ran down the tower stairs. at their lower steps he stopped, stricken by an uneasy realization that he had completely shirked the duties laid on him by don. he was not guarding that tower, not seeing what vance did, not heeding doc. thirteen years--piracy--mysterious maps--hidden meanings--possibly buried treasure--the combination had been too much for chick. should he go back, or go on and get the blue-print? "i'd better go back," he said. "i can get the blue-print when the rest are here. maybe vance made all that up, and took advantage of what i said, just to get me off the scent, to stop me thinking about watching him. i'll go back." he turned to ascend. from the hangars came the crash of an overturned chair, or some such odd sound. on the office floor it seemed to be to chick. furiously racing along the corridor, he watched for opened doors, in the faint light of the corridor bulb at the landing. the design room door stood ajar! there he swung in, catching the jamb with a hand to expedite his turn as he reached the opening. inside all was dark, still. "who's there?" he called, and listening, heard no sound. his fingers found the light switch. the room sprang into brightness. "there's a chair upset," chick called out. "i know you're in here. come out!" silence met his demand. with quiet feet he advanced, past an overturned wastebasket, past the filing cabinets. they had been tampered with--he saw that as he passed. in a corner was a wash basin, marble, on a stand, and before it was a japanese screen to conceal those who chose to wash. tiptoeing, chick advanced close to the screen. unexpectedly it was thrust over onto him. he had half expected the maneuver, and he leaped sidewise and backward, just escaping the edge of the light frame and the entangling silk stretched over it. a tall, thin, dark-haired, reddish, copper-colored youth leaped past him. caught off balance, it took chick half a second to right himself. then he was in pursuit, screaming as he ran. the other was fleeter, longer-legged. he seemed to have prepared a plan. chick heard feet on the tower stairway, thudding down to his summons. they might intercept the escaping youth--an indian, chick felt assured at that. he was the faster of the pair, and chick, for all his best effort, could not get a grip on the flying coat. the indian swerved, in the hall, into an office. chick thought he had him cornered until the slam of intervening doors told that his adversary of the design room screen episode was out through the intersecting office suite, and had beaten him. chick ran to the fire escape at a window. down its iron rungs he went swiftly. a figure, running lightly, crossed the hangar apron of cement, got to a car. chick, putting every ounce of energy into his effort, ran, after a leap from the fire escape ladder, to try and reach the car. "this way--he's going away in a car!" chick shouted, to guide the men from the control room. then he saved his breath, his task being to get to the car before the youth could get in. it was a light, cheap make of sedan. something garry had told him seemed to come uppermost in chick's mind, some recollection; but he was too excited to pause and make sense of it. the motor roared, gears ground into mesh, the car started. chick's clutching fingers barely missed the rear tire. he fell, carried forward by his leap, and lay, prostrate. then he lifted his head as the car roared away, and when doc morgan and vance reached him, he sat up, smiling. "let's take my car!" cried vance. "come on, chick. doc, stay and take care of the place. get my assistant back to the control room!" "yes!" urged chick, running toward the control chief's bigger, faster roadster, "i remember something. garry was taken to an indian camp in that very car, and the very fellow who's getting away with blue-prints or tracing is the indian's son who drove garry back. i know the license, too. come on!" chapter xvii an aerial capture flying low, as though trying to account for the mysteriously twinkling glow from the helicopter, don watched carefully. "there's the crash boat," he murmured, as his sharp eyes made out the dark object against the sheen of the still water in a channel. "i'll 'give it the gun,' now," he decided. "the noise will drown out garry's motor hum." he opened his throttle. necessarily he drew further away. that suited their plan perfectly: it gave him distance in which to turn for his approach in a position to come down in a power-stall that would keep the engine running just fast enough to let the dart settle onto the water without too much forward speed. garry's hand was on the switch of the stopped electric motor: in the other he held his self-igniting flare. "the tide will drift me around that clump of eel grass," he told himself, "then----" don, as he saw, was banking around. "now!" garry decided that the time was at hand. don was coming in. the switch was thrown. the engine hummed, and forward drove the fast launch. above the swamp don began his approach. surprised by the sudden illumination as garry's flare lighted up the small expanse of water where the helicopter lay, the thing in the disguising oilskins and rubber face mask and cap and gloves turned to strain eyes through small cut holes. gathering speed the boat came toward his aerial chariot. with a yell that seemed to combine anger and dismay the demon swung to the momentum starter of his motor, sent its disk around feverishly. garry's boat swept alongside, the switch on and gears in reverse to drag it to a stop. don, flying in, kept his engine droning, settling toward the water. it seemed to both don and garry that their "demon" was all but a prisoner. garry cut out the switch, allowing the boat to drive close. "give up!" he shouted, to be heard above the noise of don's approach from the air. "we've got you." the disguised creature gave a shout of defiance, threw his gears for the revolution that would wake the helicopter engine to life. "it's no use!" garry cried, as don, perceiving the slow turn of the helicopter's upper blades as they were rapidly adjusted, lifted the nose and, instead of coming onto the water, stayed aloft, waiting, ready to frustrate any effort to climb away. garry's hand clutched the pontoon braces. up he leaped, clinging. don saw, in the vivid light, the unexpected thing that happened. into the water, on the far side of the helicopter, away from garry, plunged the queer creature. immediately don cut his power again and dropped the nose; but he had to bank around to get in position once more to power-stall down. watching as he executed the maneuver, he saw garry jump away from his position, half on the helicopter pontoon and half in the boat, turn as he sprang through the air, and strike water, with a flash of lighted spray, to begin swimming with strong, swift strokes, around the end of a pontoon. don lost valuable seconds, getting in approach position. when next he could look, he saw that garry was at the edge of the heavier concealing clumps of eel grass, treading water, hesitating. down came the dart. as he took the water don cut out his power instantly, to enable him to be heard. "garry!" he called, "where is he!" "hiding in the grass, i guess!" "wait!" don knew that garry could make no progress trying to swim into that clutching, restraining mesh of tangled grass blades, tall, yielding, but gripping arms and legs in any effort to pass through. "i will get in the crash boat: he's hiding. the boat will show him--it has a spotlight!" garry, treading water, listened for sounds of movement in the clump of grass, agreed. "you're captured!" he shouted to the invisible creature. "you might as well give up and save trouble." no answer came. don saw that the electric-powered boat was almost within reach as he hurriedly unclasped his safety belt, clambered onto a brace of his lightly rocking aircraft, and stretching out his arm, caught hold of the motor boat's gunwale. quickly he got in. to throw in the switch, and to light the small, but strong, spotlamp in the bow was the work of but a second. the ray probed across the water, picked out garry, treading water, close to the grass where he had seen his quarry vanish. picking up momentum to the hum of its motor, the vessel under don's steermanship moved to a point where garry could catch its coaming, and draw himself in. as he deposited his wet body in the bottom, don backed water, in a slow, curving course, so that the small craft was ready, when he cut out the gears, to be flung forward, with turning room, in any direction he chose. his hand, on the light, swung its beam to and fro, sending scattering, filtered rays through the grass. "i didn't hear him move away!" garry was up and at the bow with don as he spoke. "he must be just within the clump of grass." don drew closer, at very low speed. "listen!" garry gripped don's arm. "did you hear a shout?" "yes! far away!" they were distracted, for an instant, from the quest by the new and unexpected call coming from a distant point. "do you suppose it could be help--for us?" garry wondered. "maybe chick left the airport to get police aid." "let's wait a bit and see if the shout comes again!" don suggested. "this fellow we're after can't go far in that grass; he'd sink into a mudhole." "maybe he did, already," garry hinted. "maybe he went down and got caught in the grass." "that would account for us not seeing--" "there's the call--closer, too!" they made out the words. "sounds like chick's voice," garry whispered. he called, high and sharp, "stop!" "yes--and there's a man's shout--hear him?" "i'm sure it's help!" exclaimed garry. "but who can they be after?" "they're coming closer!" a movement of the grass caught don's attention. "there's--" he began. "no! listen!" garry put a hand on his arm, stopping his sentence. somewhere not far off, but to the right, inland, the grass clusters seemed to be agitated for a moment. don swung the boat, backing to get room, to be ready for the new position of their hidden adversary. the light swung and focused. "see anything, garry? i don't!" "no, don--and i'm sorry you backed the way you did. the helicopter is between us and the place i saw that fellow disappear----" "but----" from a point a hundred yards away came a hail "hello! you! showing a light--who are you?" "don and garry--don mcleod at the helm of the airport crash boat, trying to catch the fellow who has been haunting the swamps and the air." "don--garry!" chick's shrill, excited voice floated to them. "it's chick and the control chief! we're after an ind----" the sudden roar of the helicopter engine drowned the last syllable. don, reaching for the switch, with the other hand swung his spot beam but it would not swivel far enough to pick out the helicopter's body. "i hear somebody in the water!" gasped garry, "swing--forward, and swing, don!" the launch, in its position facing the left bank of the weed and grass-choked channel, made a difficulty of the forward swing, going too close to the grass. its propeller caught in the grass or mud. instantly don cut the ignition to avoid losing his propeller. garry fled to the stern, bent far, reached down, began disentangling the snagged part. "get him!" screeched garry, to chick as the light showed him on the bank of a portion of the more solid swamp land at the edge of which the channel ended, far across the sheet of clear water. from the helicopter there seemed to come a surprised cry, and the sounds of an altercation. there was a splash--but the helicopter went upward! don, as the propeller was cleared and garry shouted that news, did not try to pick up forward speed again. instead he gave the motor its current with gears in reverse, and backed down toward his own dart. "what are you doing that for?" "going to the dart." "but the engine is dead." "it's still warm," don retorted. "i'm going to bring down that demon." chick, shouting, appeared at the end of a path, with the control chief, and guided by doc, who knew the swamp trails. "there's somebody swimming!" he screamed. don paid no attention. "watch him!" he called, and then, as the launch came close to the dart, caught a wing and clambered into the cockpit. garry, who took the wheel, ran forward again until he could revolve the small, fast airplane's propeller: as his yell was answered by don's "contact!" he swerved aside, saw the huge blades begin to swing, heard the roar of the engine, and hastened to get his launch out of the path of the oncoming dart. swiftly gathering speed, with sharp spurts of the gun to clear his choked cylinders, don lifted his speedy ship into the air, soaring over garry's head as the latter, nosing in at the path end, took on chick. up went don, climbing in as speedy and steep a banked ascent as he dared with a recently stopped power plant to consider. he dared not force the engine until it was again at fullest, safest operating temperature. the helicopter, rising almost straight up, had an advantage. but don did not let that concern him. his teeth were tight, clenched, with determination wrinkling his eye-corners. the demon had gone too far. evidently he had meant to lure them in the airplane, only to "finish them off" in some fashion. garry's unexpected appearance in the launch had upset those purposes. the demon, taking advantage of the new chase, getting back to his craft, meant to escape, to lie hidden somewhere, ready to visit more of his menacing attacks on innocent folk. "not if i can keep my head," don muttered. swinging in his ever-ascending circles, spiraling, reversing to avoid that irksome sameness of turn which might make him dizzy, he kept going higher. he knew that once he got near the ceiling, that highest point to which an engine can carry an airplane, he would be on equal terms with the demon, because he could fly past, or execute some other maneuver, by which his propeller blast would upset control of those large top blades, cause the other ship to drop, whereupon, above it, and ever alert to guard against more deadly rockets from the improvised "gun" he saw on the ship's side, don could drive down his foe. to his surprise, before he reached the ceiling, he came level with the other ship. he saw the pilot, in the moonlight, lift a hand. instinctively don prepared to execute some dodging stunt; but all that was released was a white flare. and in its light don saw the pilot elevating both hands. it was the gesture of surrender! tamely enough the other allowed his ship to settle. like a shepherd dog circling a flock, don went down above the other. when the swamp was once more close beneath them don saw that flares were burning, that torches were lighted in various parts of the land beside the demon's lair. hardly had the pontoons of the helicopter plunged into the water before don had made his approach, easily guided by the vivid light. as he swung down, contacting the sheet of water, don saw, with surprise, that his adversary was no oilskin-cloaked miscreant. the youth stepping from the helicopter into the electric launch was coppery of skin, black of hair. no other occupied the cockpit. the launch turned, while chick and garry busied themselves with rope, binding the sullen son of ti-o-ga, the indian garry had met. "well," vance, the control chief, saluted don. "you've brought down your prisoner. wish we could say as much." "what happened?" don asked. as his engine died he listened intently. "when this indian ran away from the airport and came here," chick explained, "he must have tried to use the helicopter to get away in. but the real demon jumped out as he got in, letting you go up after the helicopter while he got away." "but how could he get away?" don remonstrated. "there's only the narrow rim of land, beyond us, on crab channel, then another water inlet." "mr. vance guarded the paths," chick admitted, "and garry picked me up and we beat the grass. i don't know how he could get away--but he is gone--and with the police to help us beat this part of the swamp--all we've found is--just nothing!" "but he--couldn't get away!" expostulated don. "couldn't he?" said garry, ruefully. "well, then--where shall we look next?" but don did not hit upon the right answer. chapter xviii a confession and the charm all that night they remained on guard. taking turns, first don in the helicopter and garry on the shore, then the control chief replacing garry and chick taking don's station, they watched. not a thing happened. the indian, sullen, refused to talk. threats did not seem to disturb him. pleas failed to move him. he realized that they had no way to enforce the threats. none of them dared to leave the swamps by the paths, taking him as a prisoner, because it had been his own familiarity with swamp trails that had led them safely through, although he refused to say why or how he had become so well informed. besides, as don argued, they dared not leave the swamp unguarded. however, they kept a close watch toward the airport. don's surmise that his uncle would return from delivering the mail, find their note and institute a search, proved to be correct. their flares being all used up in landings, however, they had no way to signal, and evidently the airport manager, deprived of scott's services, had no pilot to send aloft as a scout. early, just after dawn, however, he arrived, in a rowboat, at the mouth of crab channel, where garry had driven the electric launch on his way to summon aid. "hello!" shouted the older man, laying on his oars until the launch came up and took him in tow, "i've had the chief of police and his men busy all night, trying to get reports of any crack-up, and scouting; but they must not have come to the lower end of the swamp at all." he caught a rope flung by garry who towed his rowboat up to the scene of their all-night vigil. practical, a little sarcastic, mr. mcleod took charge. "i don't suppose it occurred to any of you that the fellow you tell about had to get here somehow, and to get away," he said. "daylight makes it clear--see those stakes with the rope?--that the helicopter has been kept here a long time. it didn't occur to you that the fellow in disguise might have come here in a dory--and left by the same means!" "no, it didn't!" admitted don. "well, boys, that's what happened." the airport executive pointed to the grass, stamped and bent down, and when they asserted that their own searching had accomplished the tell-tale destruction he smiled, led them past the clusters near the boats, further inshore, showing that grass had been pushed aside, tangled by the passage of a body, and then indicated a smaller, shallower, but practical waterway, diverging toward the south. "here are marks of a dory's nose on the mud," he explained. "you have been watching for a man who calmly sculled or drifted away." "but we couldn't see that at night," objected chick, "any more than we could see the paths out of the swamps. now, i can, though--and i'm for getting to a telephone, calling the chief of police, and letting him send a man here to see about putting this indian in a cell." the indian, not much over nineteen, became more talkative when this purpose was mentioned. "i haven't done anything really wrong!" he declared. his english, like his clothing, was good, showing education and refinement of a sort. "a year ago," he said, revealing his identity as the son of ti-o-ga, and named simply john tioga, "a year ago a film company came up to our place to make some films dealing with indian witchcraft and dances, for the prologue of a picture. father played the old 'medicine man' and i was a sort of magician-devil in the picture." "i don't see what that has to do with this," began chick. "it has," the indian youth assured him, sullenly, "because that picture has been released and shown around, and father and i have made a good sum of money, doing what theatrical people call 'personal appearances,' and showing some magical tricks, as a prologue to the film showing at different theatres." he explained the connection between that and the present situation. "a man has a picture theatre here in your nearest town," he told them. "his name is toby tew, and he came up to our place about two months ago to engage us for a personal appearance when he shows the picture. we had been disgusted with the sort of people we met in the theatres, because they were rough and ready, not bad, but not especially refined----" don smiled, thinking of such a statement coming from the race which had tomahawked and scalped in pioneer days; but reconsideration made him realize that the pioneers had slain also, and had introduced not only "fire water" but had taken away lands the indians felt were theirs. again, he reflected, the indian of culture, with a college education, was far away from his savage ancestors. "we refused to come here to 'play' our special magical show," the indian went on, "but it wasn't long after that before another man from these parts came up to the catskills--but he wanted to consult my father about some hidden or lost object--or--er--things!" "who was he?" demanded don. "called himself morgan--let's see----" "'doc' morgan?" inquired mr. mcleod. that was the name, the youth acknowledged. "what had he lost? what did he want to find? and how could your father help him locate anything?" asked garry, quietly. "you ought to remember what my father did with you," the youth challenged. "father knows a great deal about hidden forces of the mind and of nature. sometimes, if his mood is right, he can do what fortune tellers would call 'divining'--read the future, or locate articles that have been hidden or mislaid. whether he puts two-and-two together or really can see deeper than others, i won't argue with you; but he does get results. doc morgan wanted him to help him locate a lost ship, said to have been buried in mud in this swamp----" "oh--i see how everything begins to fit in!" cried garry. "somebody had a map, or chart, or plan of some ship supposed to be in this swamp. well, then, doc heard about the skeleton being found--or saw it found! he read the news hints about the possible treasure buried here." "yes--and he either found the tracing or saw it!" agreed don. "then he went to the 'medicine man,' because he told us that your father had taught him all he knew about herb medicines, john." nodding, the indian added: "but he wanted us to divine where the ship was buried, and we did our best. then--when the two young gentlemen here--" he indicated don and garry--"came there, with their injured pilot, and father learned by putting two-and-two together--or however you choose to say he did--that there was a stolen tracing of a ship, we took the contract your theatre man had offered, and i came on ahead a week ago to look over the ground and see what was what." "and what was 'what?'" demanded chick. "i can't give you that answer," the youth declared. "i've trailed the tracing, but some one took it before i could get a chance to see it. i was hiding, listening and watching, in the airport, this evening--or last night, to be correct. i heard it said that the map was gone, and i ran and hid, but the young man you call chick discovered me. i was so afraid i'd be accused of theft of the tracing i'd never seen that i lost my head and ran--and when i was chased, and saw something in a disguise going to start into the air in a helicopter, i swam to it and went up--and you know the rest." "all but this!" don said. "you were close to that fellow in the disguise. you were in the helicopter with him----" "only for a minute!" interrupted the indian youth, then he checked himself, as though a sudden idea had occurred to him. "what has struck you?" demanded the control chief. "i--" the youth hesitated, while don, chick and garry listened with a feeling that they were about to hear a revelation. "go on," don prompted. "the--er--thing was tall." "yes!" chick broke in as garry opened his lips to speak. "well, he can fly. it made me think of another tall man who could fly--and who came to consult my father when he happened to be away from home. he said he was a mail pilot, and he gave the name----" "what?" cried chick. "smith!" "oh!" garry recognized the flyer mentioned. "he flies the mail in from philadelphia. but----" "it couldn't have been smith who tried to run us down, tonight," chick remonstrated. "he's due later on, coming in from philly. he goes down friday and comes back saturday--and last night was friday night." "he comes in tonight--so he can be left out--unless he had a substitute fly for him last night," said don, suddenly wondering. they discussed it but made no progress beyond deciding to investigate the whereabouts of the mail flyer. "anyway," the indian said, "you should remember that my father gave you a charm that would prevent any harm coming to you." "that's so!" said chick. "garry has been wearing it, all week." he stared at the chum he had spoken about. garry's face was wreathed in a queer expression, half surprised, half eager. "golly-glory-gracious!" he exclaimed, "i--had forgotten." he had. "do you know?--" he turned to don. "what morning is this?" he inquired, with a grin. "saturday," chick responded for don. "yes--and what was last night?" "friday night, of course, silly!" but garry grinned more widely. the others wondered, but waited. "what has happened on four successive friday nights, around mystery airport?" he demanded. "the spook has appeared," chick volunteered. garry nodded. "and what did i get to guard us against spooks?" they remembered the small bag john's indian father had called a "charm" to clip ghost wings. "what was i to do with it?" asked garry, excitedly. "you were to wear it all the time--let's see--for seven days!" as he spoke, don caught his breath. "wear it for seven days--and then open it!" he cried. "and this is the seventh day--or last night was the seventh night after our flight!" nodding, garry produced the bag from his shirt, breaking the small cord it was attached around his neck by. "now, let's see--" he began, and tore loose the wax-sealed neck. they craned closer as he peered inside. his face dropped, then he discovered something. eagerly he extracted from the bag three yellow oblongs of thin, printed paper. "what in the world?" he cried. "i'll say!" chick stared. "a charm to clip ghost wings. three--free--passes--for--the--palace--theatre!" the indian youth smiled slightly. "my father is a clever man!" he remarked. chapter xix a clue in smoke after a somewhat disappointed study of the three yellow picture theatre passes, garry turned to the indian youth. "john," asked garry, "what do these mean? there isn't anything on them but printing. they say, 'admit bearer' and give the palace name and they are signed by the theatre manager. but there isn't any help there, unless something is written on the backs in disappearing ink." "maybe, if we heated them, or wet them, something would come out," suggested chick hopefully, "as they stand, they are just three passes." john, with a quiet smile on his copper-colored face, replied curtly: "my father is a clever man. he put this with that, and know much. you try doing that." "personally," mr. mcleod was a trifle sceptical, "i think they are part of the plot to confuse you and the rest of us. no doubt the old 'medicine man' is clever--clever enough to be involved in some way and to try to pretend that he is a helpful chap when his whole attention is to throw out a smoke screen to protect himself and--" he frowned at the young indian, "--his son." garry put them back in the skin bag, slipped it into his pocket and switched in the current to back the launch around. "you might try using those passes," the control chief suggested, as the boat moved down the channel. garry nodded. "we will," he agreed. with the ignition key and a carburetor needle and float removed, the helicopter, tied once more to its stakes, was in no danger of being removed. they felt that they could safely leave it: no one would be able to use it with parts so vital missing. if the owner had a spare switch key, it was totally unlikely that the carburetor parts were duplicated. don's plan, quietly communicated to his two friends and to mr. mcleod, was to be tried. they would leave the disabled helicopter as it was, go back to their daily tasks in the designing department of the aircraft plant and the airport, and keep a watch on the control chief, on doc morgan, and on the swamp, from the control tower balcony, with strong binoculars. no garage, accessory store or hardware shop could replace the special carburetor parts for some time; after instructing their own shop foreman to report any application for the parts that might be made to him, don rode in to port washington with his uncle and visited every shop, garage and other place where such things were available, told enough to enlist attention, without disclosing any of their suspicions about the tracing and its possible meaning, and secured a promise to have a report made of any request for carburetor floats and valves of the unusual type they had looked up in the catalogues. "now," remarked don, as their sedan returned to the airport, "if any spook, or man who calls himself a thing that never was, comes around to put his helicopter into commission, we can grab him, for we will know that no one else would be after floats like the one we removed." his uncle nodded, morose and uncommunicative. rejoining his chums, don explained his recent activities. "i found that the blue-print files had the lock picked," chick told him, "and the blue-print i made of the sketch was gone." "i've just come down from the tower balcony," added garry. "the helicopter hasn't moved. i just barely made out the blades above the grass. the way they are kept when it isn't being used, the blades are sideways to the line of sight from the control tower. that's why none of us, especially since we weren't looking for it, ever saw the thing." "probably mister spectre-man had it there all during the haunting time," chick remarked. "but what did he use it for--and how did he use it?" objected don. "the spooky airplanes were biplanes, old-timers, and there never was a helicopter in sight." "i suppose he used it to get to his other ships, and then flew them between a cloud and a light, so the shadows appeared, just as the shadow of your dart showed to us the first night we tried being airlane guards," garry suggested. "but why should he hide it in the swamp, and need it at all? if he had a biplane, he could take-off from miles away," chick argued. "it's as much of a puzzle as that mixed-up affair of a chart that may be an airplane design, or a camouflaged drawing of a privateer or old-fashioned brigantine that has treasure hidden in it," chick mused. "now, we'd better get to our watching. doc is my assignment. he's eating breakfast, so i'll go and get some, too." "control chief vance has gone to bed," garry said. "i won't have very hard work keeping track of the cottage he lives in, from the platform where i watch the helicopter. don, you'll be free, then." "well, i'll work on the inking in of the new tracings," the young pilot decided. "wouldn't it be odd if my study of airplane design had some good effect in clearing up our mysteries?" "it certainly would!" agreed chick, moving away. while he used square and compass, drawing pen and india ink, making the perfect outlines and shading on tracing paper which perfected the multitude of parts' designs, before the working blue-prints were made by chick and garry, don kept that idea in the back of his head. it would be fine, he mused, to be able to use the knowledge he had gained, especially about airplane construction and the creation of the original plans for new models, to solve the puzzling, baffling set of unexplained circumstances. the possibility seemed far-fetched, though. "how can it help that i know about streamlining the body, and the struts, and even the flying wires?" he asked himself, "or what can i make of wing-taper, and camber, and all that?" he completed the application of india ink to the drawing of a seaplane body, in outline, showing the many braces and their points of attachment to the longitudinal "keel." he put it away, with others, in a folder when it was dry. "i guess knowing about designs won't help, any more than knowing how to fly a ship was of any use to the airlane guard," he murmured, laying the folder aside for garry's later use. "if we only had the 'ignition key' so we could make 'contact,'" he smiled at his application of aviation terms to their puzzle, "it would be easy to give it the gun and fly a straight course to the solutions." when dusk came on and the chums gathered to compare notes, the day proved to have yielded blanks all around. "the indian told the truth," garry reported. "your uncle has engaged a private detective and he checked up. john and old ti-o-ga are 'playing a split week' engagement at the palace, starting saturday--today. the helicopter hasn't been moved. a private detective is there, watching it, and one is in the hangars." "we can go to the movies, then," suggested don. "let's see if the old 'medicine man' meant anything by giving us passes, and telling us to take them out of the bag after seven days." "he might, at that," garry became more animated. "that connects up, because after seven days he knew he would be here, with his son." "i hadn't seen it that way," responded don. "let's go!" they found the palace, on a side street, fairly filled when they presented the three yellow slips to the door man. large "cut-out" figures of indians, in various poses, and posters, from "one-sheets" to "flash twenty-four sheets," decorated the theatre and billboards nearby, showing in blatant coloring the scenes from "red blood and blue." the doorman, to whom the chums were well and favorably known, chuckled as he accepted the "dead-head" tickets. "papering the house, eh!" he chaffed, referring to the method by which, issuing free tickets, a manager sometimes made it appear that his theatre was well patronized. "well, you won't like the show." "why?" chick demanded. "it's the old story that the fellow who comes in free does all the 'knocking,'" responded the doorman, "i ought not to let you in at all, by rights. passes aren't good on busy week-end nights; but these are good any time--specials from the boss. how'd you get them?" "in the most 'charming' way you could think of," garry made a hidden reference to the indian's "magic bag." "they were 'gave' to us." "all right. go on!" in they went, finding a trio of seats about the center of the small and rather old-fashioned theatre. a comedy was just reaching its end, and the jet silhouettes of a fantastic kitten, gyrating across the screen from a kick, punctuated their arrival with a gale of laughter from the audience. they were just in time for the "presentation," preceding the main attraction. the heavy draperies of the softly lighted curtain swung down, concealing the stage until the screen was taken away. softly the small orchestra began a weird musical number, while from the projectors that threw the pictures onto the screen, their lenses showing colored lights instead through tinted isinglass disks, came a combined rose and blue that gave the stage, as the curtains opened, the effect of dusk coming on just after sunset. weird tom-toms thudded gently from the enclosure which pictured a forest background. before this, around a small "practical" fire, well protected, sat some supers, made up as indians. "there's john ti," murmured chick to garry. "he's going to sing!" as garry spoke the young indian broke into a chant, with a melodious voice, standing against the soft light supposed to be the dying sun's afterglow over the sea, to one side of the stage. three white people came into the scene, watching, all evidently campers, from their dress. they were extremely modern, both in pantomimic actions and in their garments. one was a girl, the other two were men, and their attentions to the girl spoke clearly of great interest in her. to the increasing rapidity of the music after the song, those make-believe warriors seemed to be caught by the spirit of some old mood, and they rose, moving about, presenting a colorful, barbaric picture as they began a dance, to the thrum of the piano and the song of violins, while dull drumbeats punctuated the music. from the wings, as the music became more wild, appeared the old indian in blanket, feathered head-dress and other marks of his chieftainship. one of the men began to make motions calculated to show his feeling of superiority toward the stalking old man, and the girl turned from him in a sort of distress, then the other man caught her hand, whereupon his rival glowered, and his hand moved toward his hip. at once the old chief stretched out an arm--the dancers drew back and squatted, the chief approached the fire, beckoning to the girl. she approached slowly, fearfully, and the music became low as the chief, squatting, drew out a bag, extracted from it some herbs which he threw into the fire. at once a great pillar of whitish, dense smoke rose, straight upward toward the wings. "clever, isn't it?" whispered garry. "they must have a fan under the trapdoor of the stage, just below that fire, to make those flames leap and the smoke go straight up." "it makes me feel sort of creepy, and as if it was real!" chick responded. then they watched, in surprise. in that white, thick, ascending pillar of smoke, as though on a screen, there slowly appeared a vision! there was the girl. there were two men. but they were indians. a quick pantomime in the moiling, upcurling smudge revealed hatred between the men, and fury when the girl chose the rival. into that vision blended another so that as one vanished the other was visible. it showed the two men, again with the girl, but as they actually stood on the stage, almost the same in appearance, as near as the men engaged by the theatre could be matched to the vision. that picture of hatred was again enacted in the new garb, and the vision was once more displaced by another--and the chums gasped. in that smoke column, black against white, two biplanes flew one after the other toward the audience--they seemed to merge, to blend, to vanish, and then--as chick made an involuntary little scream of amazement--the smoke was filled by the vision of two black, bi-winged shapes coming together. the drone of their arrival filled the theatre: so realistic was the effect that the planned scream of the girl on the stage was echoed by women among the watchers--to the rumble and roar was added the culminating contact. the vision died as the translucent screen through which it had all been observed was gradually lighted by the first scenes of the real picture, showing the events of the story which began at the crash. "well!" muttered don, "did you see what i saw?" "the very same as the spectre in the cloud!" agreed garry. "yes," chick contributed, "and i see the clue in the smoke, fellows. every time that spook has appeared--it has been a cloudy night!" "that's it!" don agreed. "the cloud acted as a screen--and now we know what was done--a picture was thrown on a cloud. but how--and by whom?" he paused. the theatre manager, passing up the aisle, gave them a pleasant salute--and all three mentally answered don's query! chapter xx don tests a theory with one accord the trio of youths hurried out of the palace and paused just around the corner from its lighted marquee. "yes, sirree!" chick spoke the conclusion of a train of thought that was clear to his comrades, "toby tew is the one!" don nodded. "he knew about that film they used," he declared, "and how the picture was thrown onto the smoke. they had a picture projecting machine hidden in the wings, and when the film was run through it, with a strong light, against the background of the dark stage, the visions appeared on the cloud of smoke." "that's it!" agreed garry. "now that i come to think about it, i remember that every night the spectre seemed to appear, there were clouds. in june there were fleecy, fluffy ones, and in july they were whitish thunderheads." "we'd better be sure, though," don argued. "i meant that we may know how the spectre was made to appear, but that wouldn't be evidence in a court if we told uncle bruce and he had mr. tew arrested for trying to ruin the airport by scaring everybody." "but the courts accept what they call 'precedents,' i know," garry insisted. "if a lawyer says that another case was decided, before, on a certain kind of evidence, then the judge has to decide the same sort of case, on the same sort of evidence, in the same way." "but how does that help?" don demanded. "well--look here!" garry was very earnest. "i can give you precedents about pictures on smoke. one night i was taken to a film showing part of a prizefight, and there were a whole lot of men in the audience who smoked, so that the hall had a thick curtain of cigar smoke between the screen and the projecting machine--and the picture showed on the smoke--and, what's more, the smoke was all glowing between the lens and where the smoke was so thick that the picture was clear." "i've read about a picture theatre out in the desert section of the country," chick stated. "i read it in a moving picture 'trade' journal mr. tew loaned me--about a dust storm in kansas, i believe it was, where the dust was so thick in a theatre that the pictures they had to show appeared on the dust almost as well as on the screen!" "what of it?" argued don. "i'm trying to make you see that proving how a vision is made to appear doesn't prove who made it show!" "i see your idea!" agreed chick. "it could have come from the control room, if the man on duty happened to have the right kind of apparatus to use for showing a film and could fix it to use the powerful airport searchlight." "yes," argued garry, convincing himself. "i see that! and mr. vance could be there alone, any time, any night. he could have a projector 'head'--the thing that snatches the films down in front of the lenses and then holds them each a fraction of time before the light to let the image get itself impressed on your eye. he could fix it to use the search beam, probably. he's a wizard about lighting for night work on airways and in airports." "look!" don pointed down the street. "there's his car. he was in the palace, i think. even if we didn't see him, that's where he was. now i say, let's get our bicycles and hurry down to the airport, and look around, before he comes back to his cottage to sleep." they hastened to their respective homes, securing the bicycles. in most instances somebody gave them a "lift" down to the waterside base, but each rode well, and was enduring and speedy on the pedals. "the more i think about it," garry stated, pedaling swiftly and then coasting down the inclined road toward the water, "the more i think it over, the less i believe it's from the control tower, and the surer i am that toby tew is the man who makes spook pictures on clouds." "he used the helicopter!" chick contributed. don argued his conviction sturdily. how, he proposed, could a man in a helicopter throw a picture on a cloud without being seen? "our dragonfly and the mail 'plane were the only ones visible--i didn't see the helicopter at all, the night of the 'spooking,'" he asserted. "no," garry admitted, "but, for that matter, we didn't see scott in the dart. in a black sky, with lightning flickering to keep your eyes altering the dilation of the pupils, we might have missed seeing them; but the helicopter was there, maybe floating just above the cloud!" "it couldn't have been!" don was triumphant. "i drove right into that cloud!" swinging his handlebars to the left to pass down the airport road, garry was silent: chick, though, took up the argument. "we can soon find out," he declared. "we can search the control room and see if we find the least thing to back up don's notion that it's the control chief we have to blame. i think, myself, mr. tew would be foolish--or brazen!--to show how the thing was done, if he was the guilty man." the control tower room was in charge of vance's assistant, who was busy taking down air condition reports from a radio with a headset. he nodded, and went on, concentrating his attention on the weather data which must be posted--and accurately--on the weather board in the pilots' assembling room. with the data typed, the assistant, knowing that don was trustworthy and that no scheduled arrivals would ensue, left the room in the young pilot's charge while he departed to post his notes; and the chance they longed for was made for them. the search of drawers in the radio table gave no result. no other section of the drawer space seemed worth looking into, and since no visible evidence of any projection apparatus other than the airport equipment was seen, they felt that prying was useless. "nothing for the control chief to use--you see that!" argued garry. "i suppose you think he'd have everything standing right out for everybody to see?" don spoke witheringly. "well, then," chick seemed inclined to take garry's side, to suspect the man who operated a theatre and, thereby, knew most about the projection of images from and through moving picture films. don sent his eyes from wall to wall, from cupboard of spare instruments to unlocked desk drawers. "tew is the one to blame," chick persisted. "vance told the truth about that tracing; he put his initials on it by chance, the way i'd make little stars in my geography book when i'd try to memorize the capitals of the south-central states." "but--oh, shucks! what's the good. i don't know who it is. i think the control man is more logical than toby tew--and i like toby best, too!" don said, morosely. "but what's the good of a theory, any way you look at it, unless everything fits." the helicopter didn't fit in with the idea of the control room man projecting a moving scene on a cloud, he argued against his own ideas: at the same time, the helicopter failed to connect a theatre owner and boatman with such an idea. the picture on a cloud could have been evolved by either, since both knew about the angles of projection and the properties of light, concentration, angle and diffusion. but doc morgan had also acted in a suspicious manner, and certainly knew about the treasure, which, in itself, failed to fit in with the theory of tew trying to ruin airport business for spite against its executive. coming back, the control assistant asked don if he would stay until the assistant slipped across the runways to his boarding place for a ten o'clock cup of coffee and some cold lunch. don agreed. getting his coat, the assistant caught his arm in an older garment hanging on a peg, and it fell to the floor. they all heard the clink and jingle of some metallic object as it flew out of the vest hung under the coat and also dislodged. the man bent, picking it up. "what's this?" he wondered aloud. "the chief ought not to have keys loose like that in his old duds--doc might knock them down the way i did and be too busy mooning over something to hear the noise--and a key would be lost." "golly-to-chriminety!" exclaimed chick, running across to him, "let's see that key, chubby! it might be that it fits the cabinet where i keep the blue-prints--the one the blue-print of the ship plan was taken out of." "oh, no! the chief isn't that sort. anyway he lost a tracing, too!" "i don't accuse him of that!" there was a hidden meaning in chick's tone, "but somebody might have put this where you found it!" "that's right! here! try it!" don remained on duty, allowed the man to depart, and then waited expectantly while chick rushed away on his errand. garry, on the balcony, using the binoculars to try and locate the helicopter's upthrusting blades, heard his name called. "garr--ry!" the hail came from the lower floor. he raced down the stairway. don, waiting, impatiently tried to hear the words that seemed to come up in excited, quick calls of amazement. soon his comrades came stamping up the stairs. "the key didn't fit the cabinets!" chick set down the large black leather case he had been dragging along, and puffed for breath. "but--it--did--fit--one--of--the lockers--in the pilots' locker room!" "oho!" garry came after his smaller companion, dragging a compact and intricate-looking mechanism. don, staring, recognized it. "that's a projector 'head!'" he said excitedly. "and you found it, in a pilots' locker--whose?" "oh! i don't know that," chick argued. "i think it's a spare one. what does it matter! the key was in the chief's vest, the one he puts on when he is working around in here. what more proof do you want! you argued that he was guilty of throwing the spook pictures! well----" don, examining the projector apparatus, which comprised an upper canister, or flat magazine, into which a reel of film could be placed, a film guide, a 'gate' and aperture, with mechanism for snatching the film through, and its lower guide and magazine, looked up. "open that leather case." it was only snapped shut, not locked. chick and garry got back the lid in short order. "here's a roll of film." chick drew it out, opening the tin container protecting the celluloid material from drying out or from chance of fire. "it's--an--aviation scene----" "and the key to the locker was in the chief's vest!" chanted garry. "your theory was right, don." "i'm not so sure!" don looked from the film to the projector. "it looks black for him, but--garry how would you concentrate enough light from the big, open spot lantern here, onto the aperture of the projector head? see! the lens in that spot lamp is at least eighteen inches across, and that's the diameter of the beam it throws. the part of the projector that the light has to concentrate on is less than two inches across! how about it?" "i can't tell you." "it was your theory, don," chick reminded him. "now you've got 'evidence.' you find out how it's used." "i will!" don accepted the challenge. studying the situation, the lighting conditions, and the materials at hand, he jumped up, turning an excited face to his comrades. "this is how i'll prove my theory--or test it, anyway," he asserted. "chick, rush down to the designing room, and get the big focusing cloth you use to cover your head when you have to focus the enlarging camera for detail print enlargements. bring it up." chick was back very soon with the big, rubberized square of black. "now," don came from an adjoining room where they had discarded flying togs that morning, "i'll take the dart, and go aloft--and fly out over the swamps. chick, you and garry adjust that focusing cloth over the projector head so it cuts off all the stray light that the beam lens won't concentrate on the aperture plate. then, when i set off a green verey light, and it goes out and i have time to get my eyes used to the dark again, you open up the beam, and start turning the projector, with this film in it, trained on a cloud near where i am. we'll soon test my theory." he got a mechanician, half asleep in the lonely hangar shops, had his help to start up the refueled dart, warmed up the light ship, and signaling for the "mech" to release the tail he had been steadying against propeller blast, on the runway, don sent the small craft into the water, taxied along its gently ruffled surface, got on the step and with full gun went soaring up to test a theory. short was his turn and abrupt his wingtip bank, to get himself headed for the marshes. there, with a chosen altitude that he judged to be right for the angle of projection, he made ready to see if the tower beam had sufficient concentration and intensity to make a ghost of a film picture show on the cloud its beam might strike. the green verey flashed out, burned and died. gliding, watchful, don's eyes accustomed themselves to the dark. a moment passed. then, as he banked to come back, he saw it. from a luminous cloud the spectre ship flew out at him! chapter xxi a question of angles without wasting an instant, when he saw the silhouette of the spectre in the cloud, don fired the verey pistol set at the side of his airplane. arranged for the discharge of the verey lights, the implement, fixed at one side of the fuselage, sent out into the air a bright, white flash. the smoke bomb that don used was such as pilots employ to show them wind direction. the light was almost instantly gone, being succeeded by the liberation of a dense volume of smoke that drifted in the light summer breeze. but don was not concerned with the smoke: he knew that watchful eyes had been ready to catch the flash, through the dark. "they know, in the control room, that i got what i came for," he told himself. "now they'll shut off the light and get everything put away before the control man returns from his late supper." with quick hands he set the controls to swing back, and made the return trip in as brief a space of time as the dart's power permitted. at the runway, as he came to rest, chick ran up. "we got your flash!" he said, keeping his voice low. "garry's putting back the things. let's get the dart back. you'll have to explain the flight to the control man. he must have heard the take-off and landing." "right. well, chick, one thing is settled, anyhow." "one thing? you mean----" don, unsnapping his helmet chin strap, put his lips close to chick's ear and spoke very earnestly. "the spectre appeared. but!--it wasn't from your projector!" if he expected a cry of surprise, as his grip on chick's arm for a warning seemed to indicate, he was, himself, surprised. "we know it," chick, to don's amazement remarked. "you do? then you saw it?" "no, don. come on. let's not talk till we get back to garry." he led the way to the stairs, and instead of going on to the control tower, turned aside at the door to the lower corridor. "let's go into the designing department," he suggested. "as soon as the control man returns, garry will meet us there." "just where i meant to go." together they entered the room, lighting its dome bulbs. "as soon as i saw the picture on the cloud," don stated, "i knew it didn't come from the control room." "how did you find that out!" don, at the table, took pencil and paper. while he sketched rapidly garry entered. chick put him in possession of don's news. watching, garry nodded. "don knew, from the light angle, i guess," he whispered. the sketch don made was proof of his accuracy of judgment. it showed a small airplane, as though viewed from above. its nose was directed toward a sketchy line that indicated the shore of the bay. a little in front of its nose don had made a small indication of a cloud. on that he put a straight line, that the others saw was meant to represent the "screen," or place where the picture had been seen. and the airport control room when he sketched it in, lay at exact right angles to that screen line! "as the nose pointed west," don said, excitedly, "the light from your projector, coming from the south, would have been on the south part of the cloud. but the picture was on the east side, the one i faced. that's how i knew you didn't throw the picture. besides, as i saw earlier, the diffused light from your beam, as it touched a cloud before the picture appeared, was very faint!" "q. e. d." chick quoted his school algebraic phrase. "but if i saw the picture facing toward the west, how could you see it from the south!" asked don. "we didn't!" "then how did you know, garry? what proved you didn't project it?" garry answered slowly. "the film we had," he explained, "started off with a couple of 'shots' of airplanes--flying over our swamp. but then it became a series of moving pictures, taken from the air, of water and marsh." "and that was all," chick added. "the more things i see," don said after a long moment of thought, "the more i begin to think that indian, john, had the right idea." "about smith--the mail flyer?" garry asked. "yes." "we will see a little later," chick stated. "his 'plane comes in after awhile." "don't forget," don argued, "that a man clever enough to do all the things we have seen done is bright enough to have somebody else fly his mail close to this airport, set down, and let smith take it over and bring it in. for money, and with a man far enough away, it would be possible--and we could never check it up." "he's still in that swamp, close by," don argued. "he is as brazen as they come, too!" chick wondered audibly why don had not flown straight up "to catch the man." "alone?" garry defended don from a hint of caution. "don did the right thing, coming back here. the stores haven't reported a call for spare carburetor parts. the man is clever." "maybe he got spare parts at bennett field, or roosevelt field," chick suggested. don held up a hand and shook his head. "it isn't important, just now," don declared. "let's make sure how the picture was thrown, tonight, while i flew around. then we can work out why there is this extra projector head and a misfit airplane crash picture afterward, and about the carburetor." "well, if you looked around, you must have seen the crate that the 'ghost' used," chick inferred. "but i didn't." they knew that he had not been careless: had a ship been in sight his sharp eyes, looking for just that, would have noted it. "listen," garry drew up a chair by the table, "don, your knowledge of angles, and the things you had to study about angle of attack of a wing, and angles of incidence of air and wing, and all that, ought to help out here. this seems to be a question of angles." "it does," chick agreed. "what's more, garry, you've studied about light, because i know the control chief gave you some books when he saw that you took an interest in his work." "maybe we can both get something out of what we've learned," don admitted. "now--how?" "well," chick offered an opinion, "the old indian gave us passes that showed us 'how' the ghost could be worked. maybe there is a clue to 'where from.'" "yes--i think there is!" don caught a fresh sheet of paper, and began to draw a rough diagram of the theatre stage, sketching in the position of the pillar of smoke broadly. "from what we've proved, about tonight, the stage picture couldn't have come from the wings," he stated. "it would have to fall on the smoke from the front, almost, or else the people in side seats might see it and not those in direct line, from in front of it." garry drew the sheet to him, made an addition, showing the projection room of the palace, up on its balcony. "the theatre was made very dark," he said, "and all the light on the stage was adjusted so that the sunset died out when the pillar of smoke went upward. then the man at the film projectors in the balcony 'faded in' the picture--from in front, and at an angle 'above' the audience." don jumped up, upsetting his chair in his excitement. "knowledge is power!" he cried, excitedly. "study of angles has given us the answer to chick's 'where from!' that shows why there is a helicopter hidden in the marsh!" "i see it!" chick was equally animated. "with the helicopter, the 'ghost' projector could hover above the clouds, well hidden." "yes, and 'throw down' from that makeshift 'projection room' onto a cloud," exclaimed garry. "he could hover very high," don contributed. "there he could see an airplane, coming, at a distance, gauge its direction, swing his own ship and descend to a point over a cloud. hidden there, with his light on, and his film going through, the spectre would appear on smoke or clouds right in front of the coming airplane." "that's exactly how, and from where, the ghost comes!" garry agreed. "now, here's a suggestion, don! let's 'show' everybody!" "i don't quite see--" began the young pilot. "it's almost midnight." garry consulted his wrist watch. "the palace has finished the second show. the control chief and the others will all come here to see that everything is right, and for the arrival of the midnight passenger 'plane from the maine summer resorts. i'll stay here and you, don, and chick, take the dart, fly to where the helicopter is, with the projector and film, and when i give a beam signal that they are here, you two, in the helicopter, pick a cloud they can all see, and 'put on your show.' the minute that everybody sees how simply it is done, the ghost's claws will be pulled--no pilot will be afraid and maybe--maybe your uncle will get a whale of a lot of business." "yes!" chick was enthused. "and garry can see whose face betrays guilty knowledge, when the actual 'spook' is projected." "but--" don saw the difficulties, "this isn't the same film, hidden in the locker. besides--where will we get the light?" "the 'ghost' must get light from somewhere--" chick began. a flash of inspiration made him bang his palm on the table. "the boathouse!" he exclaimed. "don--garry! i saw the man who never lived come up from under that boathouse. that's where he stores all his real stuff--light, and film, and maybe another projector, complete! this one is just in case he is suspected--to mix up the trails!" "i believe chick has the right idea!" garry conceded. "so do i! come on, chick! we'll 'put on a show' and clear up the airport mystery of the spectre in the clouds for once and all!" again the faithful dart, with two youthful occupants, took to the air. and someone, behind the screen at the wash basin in the designing room, smiled, waited until garry left for the control room, and then strolled nonchalantly back to the cottage where he roomed, and went peacefully to his quarters. "there won't be any more need for the ghost," remarked the quietly smiling person to his shaving mirror. "tomorrow the boys will be busy getting out of this little experiment--the engineers won't be working, and it ought to be easy to find the chest that must have been buried when the mud in crab channel sucked down the brigantine, _lady o' fortune_." don and chick, in the dart, drove on, full-gun, to help his prophecy come true. chapter xxii daring and disaster careless of the attention they might attract, don and chick rode the low altitudes toward the sheet of water before the boathouse. chick had a parachute flare ready. don signaled. overside went the flare, to ignite and throw its fierce, white glare over the approach. as it settled don spiraled down, far enough away to make his pass at the water, power-stalling to a safe drop onto the surface. he gunned the engine enough to bring them close to the old wharf and then let the incoming tide drift them, while chick, out on a pontoon, sidewise to the piling, caught the rope they had cut and left hanging some nights earlier. to draw the ship closer was no task. securing it, and taking the precaution of pocketing the parts previously removed from the helicopter carburetor, don passed them up to chick, whose agility had enabled him to reach the planking of the dock. "now," don helped by chick, made the level and drew a small flashlamp out of his coat, "let's see, first, if anybody's up here." the light of the small torch danced to and fro as they stood in the open door of the old building. "nobody at home!" chick declared, following the light into corners, behind the table, still lying on its side where it had been overthrown in the former struggles, and lifting the trap in the dark corner. "down we go!" don whispered. "nothing to stop us." their light, showing a rusting iron ladder, also revealed the surface of stagnant water, around a small landing stage, built to float up and down with the tide. around it, thickly clustered, were the dozen dories owned by toby tew. boards, on the lee side, nailed to the string-pieces, served to keep wind out in storms, and since the boarding was carried down below the tide marks, disturbances from wind drift did not much affect the tethered crabbing boats. "if we find anything," don held the light while chick descended, head bent to screen his eyes, "if we find a projector, and a battery, it will narrow down our suspicions to toby, and point to him after all." "it will!" chick agreed, reaching up to take the light, then jumping from the lower rungs of the hanging ladder which did not quite go down to the platform, allowing for its rise with the tide. "here i come!" don, with chick lighting his way, made the climb and jump. "nothing on the platform," remarked chick sending the beam to and fro. "put it on the dories--that's it. there!" a note of triumph was in don's voice. they hurried to the edge of the platform, drew a dory close, and were quickly within its cluttered hull. a tarpaulin, dragged aside, revealed, in the light, a good-sized box-like metallic contrivance, its sides rounded, with a sort of chimney on top: there was, besides, a large, circular tank, and a smalled metal case. "here's a portable projector," don identified the metallic object, "and there is the 'head' and probably film, in that smaller case. but where does he get his light?" "maybe that tank holds acetylene gas," suggested chick. don, unfastening the projector lamp-house, exclaimed in elation. "i know!" he cried. the round, pure white object set in a holder within the lamp-house, identified by don as a calcium disk, told him the source of light. "this calcium gives the whitest, most brilliant light there is," he declared. "see, chick! the tank probably contains oxygen, under a strong pressure. yes--there's a gauge, and a pet-cock to regulate the gas flow. the tank connects, by this rubber hose, to the base of the burner, and the thing on the lamp, like a bent finger, pointing toward the calcium disk, is to throw the oxygen jet onto its surface. then it glares like all get-out!" "let's row the dory, and never mind the dart: she'll stay put," chick found oars on the staging in a big box. they found quite a direct channel, along the shore line from the boathouse to the position in which the helicopter still lay tethered. expertly, as chick obeyed his orders, don assembled the parts of the apparatus in the cockpit of the helicopter. iron, or perhaps aluminum, pieces, set into the coaming, enabled them to attach the portable projector, and to swing it to and fro, and direct it up and down. "did you ever fly a helicopter before?" chick asked, as they perfected the connections between tank and the lamp base. "no. but it's simple! i mean--i can do it! you see, chick, my flying experience will let me handle the tractor propeller, just the same as in the dart." "i suppose so! and i see that all you have to do about the top set of blades is to throw in a clutch that meshes the gears on the upright mast. the mast is set in a step and bearing in the body frame. it is squared into the gear that turns it--i guess you can manage it." don agreed. nevertheless, being a cautious youth who believed in being forehanded, he went over the curious, squat fuselage, tracing gas, oil, water-cooling and other feeds and piping. then he examined the engine. except that it was of a make he had not handled, it offered no difficulties. assuring himself that the gas gauge indicated at least several hours of fuel supply, and that he understood the controls for the lifting mechanism, don operated the momentum starter. its handle, rapidly rotated, gave a big, heavy wheel considerable momentum. then, applying its control, he transmitted the power thus achieved to the engine and after several attempts the starter caused the charge in a cylinder to be ignited as the flywheel turned onto a point where a firing current passed into a charge of fuel mixture. at once the engine took up its revolutions. don manipulated the throttle until he became fairly conversant with the power response, then, carefully, being sure that all was well, and that they had the film already threaded properly in the projector and that chick comprehended the handling of the fuel for the lamp jet, he eased down the engine, let in the upper blade clutch, and saw the mast whirl its fan-like top slowly. gradually, as chick cast loose the ropes, don increased the speed of the upper blades, leaving the forward propeller idle. the speed of the rotating fan soon began to be felt; but they did not rise. "don!" chick, sensed a solution, having studied a good deal about the various points of airplane design, "remember that when a pontoon is in water, as it lifts, the suction of the surface increases and has a strong pull to keep it from leaving: that's why they design a pontoon with a 'step' so the contact is with the top of the water, and not down in it." "that's right," don agreed. "we'll have to go forward a little as we lift. on land that wouldn't be necessary. in water it may." the experiment was tried: he used the thrust-propeller, and in short order they were rising: then he cut out the forward speed, until he had made some tests of lifting speed with the horizontal blades. "here we go!" he cried finally. go they did--up and forward. "aside from the handling of the upper fan," he mused, "this isn't much different from a slow cruising airplane. the tail and propeller control are similar--rudder and elevators; but i'll have to remember the turn is made without ailerons to bank. we don't have to bank on a turn. we just rudder around, and the upper blades keep us on a stable keel as we turn--here, we do it!" around swung the forward propeller, and don directed the craft toward the higher levels on a slanting line that climbed it and also progressed it toward the airport. he saw, when they came close to the open space, figures on the illuminated tower balcony, watching upward. someone blinked a flash lamp. "that means 'o.k.'" he murmured. "we can put on our show!" cried chick, also misinterpreting the signal that they did not pause to spell out in full. swiftly, with the engine gunned in, don lifted the helicopter above the small groups of fluffy, white cloud that gave him excuse for his experiment. the airport vanished beneath the mist and the shrouding clusters of dense, smoky-white vapor. don swung the nose, as they hovered, drifting only slightly. thus he maneuvered into a position where his understanding of the angles they had worked out enabled chick to train the projector on a mass of white vapor just over the edge of the bay. he threw up his arm. the beam of the white light glowed, and chick quickly maneuvered it, through a threaded-up section of transparent, non-inflammable film, into the cloud. he began to turn the crank. darkness ensued in the cloud as part of an opaque film covered the light. suddenly don screamed. "stop!" he threw up his arm, trying to signal chick. but the younger chum, intent on his handling of the intense light and the focusing tube of the lenses, as well as the proper course of the film as it jerked downward, paid no attention, failed to hear the cry and did not see the signal, his eyes being turned downward and away. from the airport came screeches, as of warning, terror or distress. the crash siren was going! don, from their high point, looking alertly around the horizon, had observed that the midnight mail 'plane, behind schedule, was coming, low and fast, over the swamp. it all happened in a few instants. on came the mail 'plane. up above the clouds, hidden from the mail ship by vapor, chick cranked his projector. as the mail ship approached, near the edge of the swamp, out on the cloud leaped the glow that suffused it, went through it, made of it a weird, terrifying set of illuminated atoms of moisture. onto that plane of light leaped the black silhouette of an oncoming ship. the swing don tried to make, to turn the vision away from its screen, did not help, since they had no forward speed to cause the rudder to work. hideous terrors gripped the young pilot. he knew what was about to happen. the pilot of the mail ship, already superstitious, and aware of the ghostly stories that had been flung far and wide, would look toward that cloud as he dropped the nose toward the airport approaches. it couldn't be helped. the spectre in the clouds was flying right at him as his ship disappeared from don's sight under the cloud over which they hovered. swiftly he cut the speed of the upper blades. they began to settle. "what will we find on the ground?" don muttered. chapter xxiii avenging wings soon after don flew away with his younger chum, garry was rejoined by the control assistant. they sat talking for some time: then, as garry's frequent trips to the balcony became noticeable, the man asked their reason and garry explained their intention. while he finished his story, the control chief, vance, with doc morgan, came out from town, in the former's car: soon afterward mr. mcleod drove back from his trip with the mail. the airport executive was in high spirits. when, however, garry detailed his story, the face of don's uncle took on a serious look. "don knows nothing about helicopters," he declared. "besides, this isn't the way to accomplish results. i have detectives watching. if you had given them all this information it would have been better than for don to try to 'show up' the trick. that warns the real perpetrator, puts him on his guard. the detectives could probably have caught him." "that wasn't the worst feature," the control chief volunteered. "the mail 'bus is due in half an hour," he declared. "suppose that hair-brained nephew of yours decides to 'put on his act' just as it is coming in?" startled, garry saw the force of the argument. "don is going to have the helicopter over the airport till he gets a signal and gives one," he asserted. "i'll signal him to come down, to give up the idea." then, as another thought came to him, he added: "i'd better get the dragonfly warmed up and on one of the outgoing runways, sir. if anything should compel don to land in the bay or the swamp--or if he didn't recognize my signal--i could manage to fly the 'crate' that far--i've had fifteen hours solo in her." to that the others agreed, including the private detectives summoned from various posts about the airport where they were on watch. with the help of the night mechanician, garry got the dragonfly out and set its engine going. then he hurried back to the control tower, to discover that the landing had been made by the dart, as the flare had revealed. then there was silence, and alert, but futile watching, until garry, watching the northern skies, discerned the approach of the helicopter, as it swung along above the clouds, between two of which its light pontoons showed for a second. garry rushed to get a strong electric torch. "i'll send a blink-signal in morse code," he told don's uncle. waiting until the helicopter drifted down, he sent the signal which don and chick misinterpreted. from that moment onward, all was confusion. garry rushed, with mr. mcleod, to the dragonfly, and prepared to take off. the signal man in the control tower, watching the sky, sent them a triple flicker of the pilot's spotlight, agreed on as a sign that the mail 'plane was in sight. then came the delay that was caused by garry's great excitement, so that he did not get the dragonfly off the runway at the first attempt. instead, holding the elevators down too long, he got too near the end of the runway to risk trying to climb above some wires that ran in a diagonal line across the space ahead. easily cleared in a correct take-off, they might have been the means of snagging the underbody with garry's slight experience in climbing angles and control manipulation. the dragonfly, just at the end of the runway, had to be turned, taxied back, and given a fresh start. as he topped the wires on his second attempt, mr. mcleod prodded garry. the young, inexpert pilot, cutting the gun, and, fortunately retaining presence of mind enough to drop the nose to a glide as he cut power, looked around. the man in the second seat pointed aloft. in a quick look garry took in the situation. fearing the worst, he seemed to sense its imminent arrival. there, above the edge of the bay, a cloud was glowing. from his point of view he did not see the flickering picture, but he guessed it was either there or soon to appear. he gave the nose a tilt upward, opening the throttle, as he saw the edge of the marsh seeming to rise up toward the dragonfly. as soon as he had climbed to a safer level he looked again. there was the mail ship, coming down! he again cut the gun for a glide, the better to watch. his heart was in his mouth. the mail ship was dropping swiftly. suddenly it side-slipped. would there be a crash? "poor don!" gasped garry, "he has sewed himself up in an awful snarl if anything happens!" at the same instant that the siren began to scream its crash summons he saw the mail 'plane come out of the side-slip. to his amazement its pilot did not appear to be aware of the dragonfly, cruising in a gently banked circle over the edge of the swamp, just beyond the end of the runways. instead, with a spiral, the pilot began to climb. the beam of the airport searchlight flashed into being, and as it swung past that mail pilot, garry, his head turned over his shoulder, caught sight of the pilot's arm upraised, his fist clenched, being shaken furiously toward the upper air into which the mail pilot climbed. "he's wild with anger!" garry decided. he tilted his elevators to lift the dragonfly, full power being on as he made as steep a climb as he dared. he must get above the clouds. if he could reach the altitude in time to signal don to descend, the young pilot in the helicopter might avoid that sinister vengeance so clearly planned by the irate pilot of the mail craft. clearly garry saw that the man had been anticipating some manifestation of the haunting spectre, had planned a deliberate reprisal. justly, as garry realized, he proposed to take into his own hands the vengeance due for the terrible menace of the evil apparition. "but--it's don--and his intentions were perfectly innocent!" garry muttered, trying to edge the throttle a notch further on. the clouds were just above him. he made his climb into a banked, turning ascent, passing through the thin edge of a fluffy vapor, to come out into the clearer air on a level with don. already the young pilot was descending. but this was not evident to the infuriated mail pilot who, coming straight at the helicopter from a swing on wingtip at a higher elevation over the swamp, made a ferocious dive, on wings of vengeance, for the ungainly ship don piloted. his intent was clear. with his "propeller wash," or slip-stream of turbulent air, he meant to upset the helicopter. garry held his breath. he could do nothing. the mail ship passed just behind the helicopter. it wavered, tossed, bent far to the side--began to go down--fast! chapter xxiv sky tactics clearly don saw, as his helicopter wavered, teetering like a dizzy baby trying to stand alone, the venomous purpose behind that air disturbing swoop. chick, staring with wide eyes, his heart stopped, felt the sway and quiver of the cockpit and convulsively snapped the clasp of the safety belt he had released to operate the projector. up, in a zoom, after his furious dive, the mail craft's pilot sent his ship. on wingtip, he came around. garry saw his intention. so, too, did chick and don. the dive had sent the angry flyer down a steep dive, past the helicopter and up, again, in a climbing zoom, to a high point on which he turned to come again past the other aircraft. garry realized that the man in that ship of doom was beside himself with passion, beyond reason. don's hand pressed the throttle. his own engine revved up smartly. the upper blades whirled faster. "can he climb away in time?" garry gasped. mr. mcleod, behind him, shouting, futile, helpless, gave up waving his arms at the mail flyer and watched garry with wondering eyes as the young and inexpert pilot at the controls of the dragonfly began also to increase his speed. don, opening up his fuel feed, felt the top fan catch in steady air, saw the needle of his altimeter tremble, begin to move forward. his tractor, or pulling propeller, also operating, began to show an effect. but whether he climbed, at the same time moving forward, or not, the mail flyer could so adjust his next dive that it would sweep the helicopter's air with that deadly, upsetting propeller wash. garry, too, realizing that, came, as best he knew how, to the rescue. with his flying speed picking up rapidly, he drove straight across the area between himself and the mail flyer. his eyes, watchful and narrowed, caught the instant at which the flyer ahead dropped his nose. his own ship dropped its nose, and, with throttle, open wide, giving his engine full impulse the intrepid youth darted straight for the area where he judged that the other man's dive would bring him. carefully, so as not to spoil don's own air too much and thus do what the mail flyer sought to accomplish, yet making his attack as close as his inexperience told him was safe, garry drove for the point where the other diving ship should come. that dive of garry's spelled an instant's respite for don. with a right foot slightly pressing rudder bar, garry swung the dragonfly in a gentle arc, as he went down, so that his path of flight went as far to don's side as possible: at the same time he would come back, he felt, into a line that must either bring the mail 'plane and his ship close, or the other, disturbed and disgruntled by his unexpected tactics, must side-slip out of danger. that was not quite the result. the mail ship, its control man seeing garry's purpose, drew up his nose, kicking rudder and banking--he sent the ship into an upward, sidewise skid. it accomplished garry's purpose. don, climbing and moving forward at the helicopter's best speed, was out of the danger zone. the few seconds of advantage he gained meant safety, because he had the helicopter righted and working under perfect control again. garry, cutting the gun, not skilful enough to dare sharp maneuvers, went on for some hundreds of yards before he thought it safe to bank and turn. a swift glance sidewise and backward showed him that the mail ship had come out of its skid, righted and again was executing a wingtip turn. "won't the idiot ever give up?" garry muttered. chick, watching the scene, unable to take part, saw one point of possible advantage, if he could only communicate with garry. in its climbing, forward position, the helicopter was close to the same altitude that the mail ship then had. garry, in his last maneuver, had lost a considerable amount of altitude, and was, thereby, too low for anything but a climb. still, as chick almost instantaneously thought it out, if garry drove forward on a straight line, the imminent dive of the mail pilot would bring him into danger of a crash with the dragonfly--if only chick could get garry to fly forward, on a level, at once, to get to that essential point where he would be in the required position, the mail pilot must turn. with wildly waving arms chick tried to attract garry's attention. the young amateur, busy watching his controls, the steadying of his ship, planning his next course, did not at once see chick's movement. chick reaching forward, caught the detonating mechanism of the verey pistol, which he knew don had told him to load after their last signal. chick fired the green verey light. that made garry turn his head. with the pilots' code, arm movements, chick beckoned to garry, as he saw the youth turn his head that way: quickly, then, chick held an arm straight out in front of him. rapidly he repeated the gestures. as he began again to beckon, garry, catching his idea, revved up, his ship came on, level-keeled and swift, just as the mail ship began to come forward, itself on a power-glide of an angle to bring it close to the helicopter. but garry, coming fast, saw the value of chick's signal. full-gun, he used every ounce of power, every hope of his earnest young championship for don and chick, to send that craft of his into place in time. the mail ship's control man saw that if he continued to come at the helicopter he must come also into a line of flight that would intersect that of the dragonfly. unafraid, determined, if need be, to risk all to save don from the vicious doom intended by the infuriated, senseless man who had tried to avenge a mistaken idea of the helicopter's purpose, garry held on. the mail ship swerved away long before it came near garry and the dragonfly. don, its pilot saw, would be above any safe dive he could make, and he suddenly changed his tactics, swerved and then, kicking rudder and banking--but in the wrong direction with respect to making a turn--the mail ship following its controls, skidded upward, straight for the helicopter. but its pilot did not want a crash. he thus got into a position where his sudden restoration of balance put him just forward of the helicopter. there, revving up to full speed, he sent back over the tail of his ship that most terrible of all man-made winds--the straight, hard fury of his propeller blast. don felt the helicopter stagger. with all his hope gone he felt sickish, as the blast came. not alone his own, but chick's life, too, was about to be the payment for an impulsive plan. but that power above and beyond man's puny hates, sometimes called luck, oftener known as a good "break," had caused the mail pilot to neglect to return his elevators to neutral; slightly raised, the tail surface caught the full effect of his own deadly slip-stream, sending the nose sharply upward, and thus making that fury of disturbed air pass only the tractor propeller of don's craft--so that its upper blades at their best speed were able to draw him up beyond the danger of worse than an instant of horrifying danger. stalled, the mail 'plane fell away, and its pilot had his work cut out to avoid a bad stall. over the bay, although the clouds concealed it, the mail 'plane, without pontoons, must quickly get flying speed, or plunge. don, still rising, and garry, flying toward the swamp, saw another airplane, with the unmistakable markings of the government service, come swooping from a higher altitude. two red verey lights, the imperative order to land at once, flashed out from the newcomer's signal firing apparatus. that new craft meant business, was commanded by some one in authority. going, on his glide, below the cloud scud, garry circled out over the bay, came around to face the light breeze, took the water with his pontoons and shot toward the landing stages. as he skittered over the surface he saw crowds rushing about in the wide area covered by the landing lights; evidently everyone driving home from late picture shows and dances had heard the bellowing siren; the airport day force was on hand; feverishly they worked to get the first mail craft off the runways, as the second came in. two handlers caught the dragonfly's wing as garry drifted it to the landing stage. further out on the bay, don set down the helicopter, to chick's intense relief, without a jar. shutting off the top blades the young flyer used the tractor prop to draw him to the place vacated by garry. on the landing wharf don, as he made sure that chick was again in possession of his normal color, saw garry, in the lowered rays of the spot and other lights, surrounded by a group. doc morgan was there, he saw. so, he was surprised to see, were the two indians, old ti-o-ga and his son, john. cars were parking everywhere they could find space. excitement was in the air. "we've got a lot of company waiting for us to come home," chick whispered, with an uneasy grin. "i don't like it much," don responded. "especially not the man in that ship that ordered us down. he looks angry, from here." "well!" garry pushed past the crowd assembling around don and chick, "don, do you hear what they're saying in the crowd?" "yes," admitted don, looking around. "we're elected," muttered garry. "they say the ghost of mystery airport is caught!" mr. mcleod, behind him, frowned. "i wish you boys had shown some sense," he told the trio. "it's all very fine to discover methods, and to tell others how mysteries are worked; but it is pretty dangerous to show off when mail is being brought in. that man in the other 'bus is a postal inspector, by his looks--or an army man out of uniform." "i know we were hasty," don said ruefully, "but--we will have to face the music." "i don't think we'll like the tune very much," garry observed. "no," agreed chick, "garry's pretty sure to lose his flying license, at the very least." the curt summons delivered by the man who came to them from the last land 'plane to set down, shoving his way through the crowd without ceremony, proved that there was basis for their uneasiness. "well, young man," the newcomer snapped, "you and your scapegrace friends will come with me, unless there is some one here, in authority who will guarantee your safe arrival before the new york chief of my department at nine in the morning. you can't fool with mail, trying your tricks and stunts to delay the mails--especially air mail!" while mr. mcleod conferred, sponsoring don and his chums, chick put a hopeful look on the face he turned to his comrades. "we'll have the real ghost by morning!" he whispered. chapter xxv eight hours' leeway taking their cue from the abrupt, antagonistic attitude of those who could overhear the inspector's words, the crowd began to mutter and to mill around, held back only by the lack of a leader. the lack might be supplied by any chance word of any among them. "this is a pretty bad spot," murmured garry, softly, to don. "how about some football tactics?" hinted chick. "we could break through the few between us and the helicopter. it would be warm enough to start easily." "we're not flying any more tonight." don made a prediction he might find impossible to keep. "here comes doc morgan, and the handling crew." working their way through the crowd, the sturdy men who took the airplanes in charge, as well as several shop workers, led by the airport man-of-all-jobs, came around the edge of the staging, while toby tew pushed forward to join the group. toby, the theatre manager, with his sense of the way to handle an audience, stepped forward. the leader had arrived; but he was on the side of the threatened chums. his brief speech, begun with a half-laughing, "well, gentlemen, the show's over," and ending with a cleverly suggested hint that they might see something in the morning papers that would compel them to come to the palace to see "red blood and blue," caused the crowd to suppose the whole affair was what theatre folks call "a publicity stunt," devised to attract attention, bring about talk and advertise the picture. "thanks for the way you handled that," mr. mcleod remarked as the crowd, looking a trifle sheepish, thinking itself hoaxed into attending and helping along a publicity drive, melted away. "thanks for the 'ad,'" toby chuckled. "i saw a way to turn it to my own advantage--but, of course, i thought of it to get our young friends out of hot water." "thanks, a lot," garry said. "they might have thought it would be a good time to give some harum-scarum fellows a ducking--or worse." he became very earnest. "but, honestly, mr. tew--and all of you folks--" doc, the handlers, the control chief and many friends, heard his statement at the hangar door, "--we meant only to try to lay the ghost of the spectre in the clouds, that was all, by showing how it was done." he was believed, and presently the group dwindled to the chums, the airport executive, doc and toby. to their great surprise they were joined by the pilot whose liking for "spooks" had started the chums into the whole affair. limping badly, with a heavy swathing of bandages visible even under his loose trousers, on his left thigh, scott came slowly in. "well!" he greeted them, "i see there's been some excitement." "why, scott! we thought you were pretty bad when uncle took you to the hospital last night. glad you came out so quickly," cried doc. "oh--i had a good 'break,'" the pilot said, but his face showed his strain, for he winced and drew wrinkles around his set lips as pain seemed to attend each halting step. he had been grazed, he told them, by the flying propeller, when it had flung itself loose from its shaft on the dart, the night before. the doctors and nurses, he explained, had patched him up--"battered, but not busted!" was his summing up of his condition. "they let me out tonight, and when i heard the siren i got a lift, but couldn't get to you through the crowd." he was optimistic about the situation as it was explained to him by don, garry and chick. "i don't think they'll do more than suspend don's license for six months, at most," he said, "and then only if the postal authorities see fit to notify the licensing bureau. nobody got hurt, you see." "but six months would be a long time without any flying." don was despondent. "not very!" argued doc morgan. "it would soon go past." "but so will the eight hours between now--it's near one o'clock--and the time we have to be at the inspector's office," chick declared. "if we could find the real ghost, and take him--or it--along, we'd be able to keep don in the air--where he loves to be!" "if the detectives can't work it out, and the rest of us can't make head or tail of things," scott grinned and then winced, dropping to a chair in the shop doorway, "how do you expect to manage it--in eight hours or so?" "i don't know," chick looked very serious, "but we've got an awful lot of clues if we can fit them together--there's the rubber outfit, if we can locate it--oilskins, gloves--they'd have finger prints to test." "yes--" doc glanced suggestively toward toby, "and the owner of a boathouse and dories, who would be likely to wear oilskins--he might be questioned." tew glowered at him. "there's that tracing, if we could locate it," garry added. "there might be fingerprints on it, too." toby took his revenge. "yes," he admitted, "they might be on the bottle--the one a certain person emptied or spilled, the night he was where the tracing was found!" "when it comes to that," doc flashed back, "somebody had his initials on that--er--tracing, i recall," he glanced meaningly toward the control chief. "casting suspicion and making mean remarks won't get the boys along," scott hinted. "have you any other clues? i don't suppose you searched the boathouse thoroughly--or the helicopter, maybe?" "we were too excited." garry turned quickly. "that makes me think--we might bring in the projector and the film cases--there might be a clue we didn't notice in the dark. they ought to be kept in a locker, anyway--like the others----" "what others?" scott leaned forward, and then, perhaps recalled by pain to his injuries, he groaned, and slumped back, his lips set. "we found--well, never mind," chick was about to tell their whole story when he caught sight of don's expression. his eyes swung to follow those of his chum. at the hangar doorway, on either side, were two intent, coppery-red faces, one old and seamed, the other young and alert. the others followed the line of don's gaze. "in the name of all-possessed!" exclaimed toby tew, "if it isn't the indians!" out rushed the crowd--down the runways toward the line of cottages backing onto yards near the swamp edge, raced the quarry. they outdistanced the pursuit. old though he was, ti-o-ga kept pace with his son. the black dark of swamp, where none knew of any existing path, stopped the chase. "funny, wasn't it," remarked don, as he returned to find scott, unable to join them, waiting eagerly for results. "i never thought much about those two indians--not in connection with this. but--that old one is smart--only---why would they haunt the swamp, around here? i can't imagine they have any grudge against my uncle. uncle bruce doesn't know them, i'm sure." "maybe tew wasn't so far off, earlier--how about it, toby?--saying this was all a 'publicity stunt' for his picture!" the theatre owner smiled a strange, unrevealing smile. "i wonder--" reflected scott. "good stuff for the newspapers, if he did work it--but dangerous for the pilots! man who never lived! a queer, disappearing map. ghosts in clouds. when do you 'spring' the advertising part, eh, toby?" toby was not permitted to reply. don, turning, saw chick rush excitedly up from the staging where the helicopter was securely staked and tied to the waterside posts. "look!" chick was so excited that he galloped toward them, capering and waving a large, round container, of some shiny metal, as he advanced. in the case where they had found the projector and lamp, he cried, he had, on searching, discovered a can of film. "i opened it to see if it was the same film we used," he reached the group. scott started up from his chair, doc came close, his face set and eager. toby, with a muttered, "gosh-a-mighty!" became very attentive. the injury of the pilot must have reminded him of its pain, for he sat down quickly again, wiping his brow. "what did you find?" demanded garry. "unexposed film!" "un--film that hasn't been exposed?" chick nodded. "but how do you know?" don cried. "film is all of the same yellowish color till its been developed. it could be exposed--and--oh, dear! i suppose you opened the can and there might have been enough light to fog the film--and we may have lost a very telling clue!" "maybe not!" cried scott. "take it up, and develop the first few 'frames' and see. you know how to handle the time-and-temperature tank powders, chick. you go and develop some of that film. don, will you and garry help me to my boarding place? i'm--all in!" they took him, limping painfully, to his bedroom. there he turned. "good glory!" he muttered, "fellow--i forgot! doc--and toby--and vance--and those two indians--are about the place--and chick's all alone with that--maybe it's a clue! sorry i brought you. go back, fellows! run!" they ran! chapter xxvi a "flying film" up to the dark room don hurried with garry. at their knock a muffled voice came through the panels, hardly to be understood because of the weather-stripping used to make the joining of door and frame light-tight. "he says he can't let us in," don caught the faint murmur and interpreted it. "taking the film from the tank, i guess," garry responded. "we'll have to wait." five minutes passed. then the door was opened. chick, with hands stained by contact with pyro and other chemicals, showed a disappointed face. "no go!" he greeted his chums. "the hangar light fogged the film. it was light-struck, all right." "how about another test, from the inner end of the roll?" garry suggested. "we can try that," agreed chick. into the intense blackness of the room they crowded, and, by sense of touch don extracted from the inner spool of the roll, an inch or so of film, while garry washed out the developing tank used for the films they took of new craft for making half-tone engravings, pictures for circulars, catalogues and "trade paper" illustrations. chick, mixing a fresh charge of pyro, with sodium sulphite and the right amount of carbonate, from ready-prepared packets, enclosed the film in a roll of rubber-edged material that let the developer seep in but keep the fabric from touching the delicate film surface. "get the tank lid tight," he warned garry after the solution had been mixed and poured in, the film container being swished up and down to get the film full impregnated. "i have to light the bulb to time it and get the temperature of the mixture by the thermometer you just had in the tank." "go ahead--it's tight." they allowed twenty minutes for development; then the light was extinguished and the door, opened for ventilation, was closed. in darkness chick removed the film, handling its container gingerly as he immersed it in the hypo fixing bath to "set" the image. they gave it about half a minute of darkness in the fixing bath. "now we can see it," he decided. "switch on the----" the door swung sharply outward. there came a blinding flash, and with it the dense smoke of some pungent, gas-reeking chemical. eyes smarted and watered. staggering back from the surprise attack, totally unexpected, don, garry and chick took an instant to cower back against the wall, shielding their faces. there was the play of a flashlamp about the room. then, before either of them could recover from astonishment and from the choking smudge enough to move, there came the clank of some metal, and the slam of the door. "oh!" chick gasped, and then said no more, choking in the smoke of the bomb or whatever poured its dense, stifling smoke up, filling the small, almost airtight compartment. it took garry, nearest the door, half a minute of choked, almost suffocated effort, fumbling in the dark, to get the handle of the door and twist it. the door was not locked; but, as he dragged chick out and don leaped over the fuming, pungent smoke-flare that had been ignited and dropped in the dark room, garry saw that the rubber catch-all mat on the floor was burning. the designing room, with its unreplaceable, valuable files, was adjacent to the dark room. below, in the workshops, "dope" and other dreadfully inflammable materials lay stored. in the hangar next it were airplanes worth thousands of dollars, including a fourteen-ton, double-bodied seaplane that had been ordered by the mexican government. "one go one way, the other to the bank stairway--or the fire escape!" he screamed to don and chick. himself, ignoring the lost film--knowing well that was what had vanished in the hands of their adversary--garry raced for a fire extinguisher. choked, blinded, staggering, don and chick heard, but had difficulty getting their bearings. garry ran, full speed, back, to upset the chemical fire extinguisher so that its contents, mixing, would generate a gas to drown out the small, but menacing fire that had already touched the matting running from the designing room corridor across that side of the space. don staggered to the window, drawing in great lungfuls of fresh air. gasping, choked, he strained his eyes toward the grounds outside. chick, at the corridor door, looked up and down, bracing against the dizziness that swung him on his unsteady legs. garry drenched the matting, the smoking flare, the floor and walls in danger. the fire out, he dropped the extinguisher, and turning, raced, with don and chick, recovering rapidly, at his heels. he, too, was choked; but at the first opening of the door garry had, fortunately, thrown a sleeve protectingly across his face, so that he had breathed less of the fumes than his companions. up to the control tower balcony raced garry. don went down to the hangars. chick took the midway corridor, searching each office. "there he goes," shouted a voice. garry, rushing to the balcony, saw a fleet figure running across the grounds, out of the good light, but discernible. into the searchlight garry ran, while don and chick, hearing his shouts of response to the voice from below, went, careless of risk to limb, down the stairways at front and back of the big building. garry, struggling to get the searchlight turned in the proper direction to pick out the fleeing figure, to identify it in a flare of vivid light, explained swiftly to the control chief on duty. by the time the light was in position, on the roof, and its mechanism adjusted, the beam probing the velvety dark night picked up a scene of swift action. don and chick, close to the hangars, were running, full tilt, out of the grounds, along the roadway. a hundred feet beyond them were two heavier figures, pounding along at a slower pace, so that don and chick soon met, passed and out-stripped them. just beside the cottages that were boarding places and providers of furnished rooms for airport mechanicians, shop workers, pilots and others, a fleetly running, light form swerved out of the light just as garry got to the balcony again. behind a house the figure vanished. it had some round object clutched in the crook of an arm, garry thought. standing there he watched until don and chick reached the spot. in the bright rays of the light they soon returned, waving arms in dismay. while they stood, undecided, a window of the nearer cottage flew up. garry could not hear the voice, but he recognized scott. he watched as don and chick, calling upward, waited, received an answer, turned and raced back toward the hangars. the upswung arm of don, the upward pointing finger of chick, told garry what was wanted. down the stairways he plunged. "quick! henry--help me!" he shouted, running toward the dragonfly. don appeared at the door. "that's right!" he saw don pushing at the tail of the aircraft. "what's it all about?" demanded the mechanician, to whom all this in-and-out pushing of the "busses" was mystifying. "scott called down to us. he was dozing when the light woke him. he got a glimpse of the man running away," don informed him. "it was the indian--john ti!" contributed chick, putting his weight behind the wing of the ship as he helped get it through the doors. "well--then he went into the swamps!" the man said. "that's the only place he could get to from back of that house." "i know it!" puffed garry. "what do you want this crate for, then? you don't expect to see a single, indian kid, hiding in a pitch-dark swamp!" "no!" gasped don, "we don't. but--henry--we left the dart tied there!" "get all the flares you can find!" garry urged chick, himself busy looking over the fuel gauges and oil supply. chick raced away, fully recovered. they got the dragonfly into the air in short order. three determined youths, each tightly strapped in place, each with a supply of signal flares, of rockets, of flash bombs, of white, red, blue and green verey lights, went forth into the sky lanes, determined that their clue, considered important by scott, should be recovered. in the swamp a lithe figure, watching, seeing the ship coming over, muttered. "he shan't get away!" don whispered, half aloud, to himself, in the dragonfly. "he shan't get away!" muttered the lithe figure swiftly untying the dart beside the boathouse wharf. to which an older, more deeply copper-colored form grunted agreement, whirling the fight propeller to "contact!" then began a most peculiar sky chase! chapter xxvii white wings and red holding the dragonfly barely higher than the wires he must top as he took off, don sent the craft toward the swamp. as soon as they swept beyond the cottages that backed their small yards on the undrained swamp, chick sent overside his first white-light parachute flare. "it's only for safety's sake," he muttered. "that young indian, if he knows the swamp at all, has had time to get across to the dart. but he might try to fool us, and stop to hide. not likely--but we must be sure!" he, and garry, watched over the side, a little afraid that with the craft of his forefathers the red-skinned john might so cleverly crouch in the eel grass that they might not see him. don dropped the nose, however, allowing the dragonfly barely to skim the low patches of water, and clumps of gently waving marsh vegetation. as soon as they got beyond the vivid glow of the light slowly floating down toward the marsh, don climbed the ship three hundred feet, came around, side-slipping to lose altitude as soon after the next flare was ignited and launched as he could. by these tactics, continued for several minutes, the three chums satisfied themselves that the indian was at least not visible; and if he remained hidden for that long they had him! "by now," garry decided, as he strained his eyes overside, "the police must have gotten out here to surround the swamp. mr. mcleod agreed to get the chief to bring all his force, and to send out his private detectives, and get every waterman to help as guides." don, climbing away from the final flare, gestured ahead. as he gave a glance backward he saw garry's signal of agreement. they must get within easier guarding distance of the dart at the piling of the boathouse. as quickly as he saw that the swamp was being surrounded, the indian might resort to flying for escape. it was not known whether or not he could fly the dart; but don surmised that he could. he had managed the helicopter. when they climbed, steadily going ahead, to a good altitude over the swamp garry turned his head, observing that chick saw the same thing that he did as a white, floating flare lighted up the terrain beneath them. there were two figures visible on the planking of the outer wharf at no pains to conceal themselves. instead, they were feverishly unfastening the light airplane, and don, at garry's touch, nodded to show that he already was aware of the fact. "that indian can fly!" don muttered. he braced his nerves for an unusual effort. chick, too, was taut with excitement; his nerves tingled with expectancy; he would have little to do, yet he must be ready to play what part might be possible. garry, less excitable, was inclined to feel misgivings. "what i understand about ship design makes me think this won't be as much a test of skill as it will be of performance," he murmured to himself, not having the gossport apparatus because it had been left in the dart. "it is going to be a test between 'controllability' and 'maneuverability' this time," garry added softly. he realized that airplane design taught the truth that a craft with a certain type of stabilizing fins, and control surfaces, might be very safe and steady in the air, and yet not respond quickly to its stick and rudder, because stability carried to that point might compel a sacrifice of quick answering to control movements. "that's the dragonfly," he thought. light, speedy, almost "touchy" in its easy response to control, the dart, on the other hand, lacked that safety margin. the dragonfly could not go into and come out of aerial "stunt" positions with the same facility that the dart had. the dart, though, was so "touchy" that, with its margin of quick answering to controls, quick "stunting" possibilities, it was far less easy to keep in stable flying control. "we can't out-maneuver the dart, if they once get into the air," garry decided, "but, then, the dart isn't as easy to hold steady as our 'bus is. one thing in our favor will be that don knows this ship better than john understands the dart. and--with don against john," he thought, whimsically, "it's a queer thing that our dragonfly has wings of white and the dart is lacquered and doped in red." he smiled, being of a calm, humorous character. "white wings or red?" he added. "we'll have to see what we see!" don, almost over the boathouse at the moment, gave a swift look to estimate the progress made by the two beneath him. "it will take a minute to warm up that engine," he decided. "we can get into position!" his plan was to make a swoop from a fair altitude, just timed to take the steadier ship across the path of the other, and slightly above it, as it took off. "the propeller 'wash' will throw him out of control too low to catch that touchy dart," he told himself. "it will put them down before they get high enough to be hurt badly. i don't want to be the means of injuring anybody, if i can help it." he came around, and gave a quick glance to see the progress of the starting dart. in the vivid light from a flare that chick had put over he saw that the red-winged craft was beginning to skip over the water. it was headed into the wind. "why don't you tell him to dive?" screamed chick, shivering with excitement and biting at his lip in vexation. garry had deliberately ignored prodding by his younger comrade. "now!" garry touched don. has calmer nature had held in check his impulse to move too soon. exactly in sympathy with garry's touch, don decided that the time to plunge, to rush past and above the dart, and then to zoom away into the sky for a turn, and an observation, was just right. full-gun, with nose lowered, the dragonfly dashed toward its target, coming up, in a gentle curve, just timed to sweep the turbulent air disturbance of their propeller through the area into which the dart was just beginning to rise. they swept with roaring engine across the sheet of water, their own pontoons and wheel-trucks not twenty feet away from the red wings. up they zoomed; don brought the nose around with as sharp a bank as he deemed safe. all three looked, expecting to see the dart upset, and its occupant or the pair, if the older indian had joined his son for escape, struggling in the murky water. instead, the indian, with the cleverness that he had learned, as they discovered at another time, from enlistment at a navy training school, had cut the gun, settling into the water again. he had anticipated their maneuver. before they could get around and before don could decide on whether to repeat the dive or to discover some other way of preventing ascent, the dart strung in a boiling curve, one wingtip pontoon barely touching water to help it swing, and, with the wind, leaving in the water a hot, white seethe of broken wake, slanted sidewise to the breeze and rose. with skill and quick yielding to control, the dart swerved around into the wind. straight away, climbing rapidly, the small craft went. after it, gunning up to top speed, went the dragonfly. on a level, don's speed about equaled the climbing speed of the angle taken by the indian. "will red wings get away from white wings?" murmured garry. "catch him, don!" screeched chick, unable to hold his quivering nerves as they made him tremble with eagerness. he felt like a coursing greyhound, urged on a trail but held by a restraining leash, willing to use his own effort, but restrained. garry, more controlled, watched. along the channel swept the strange chase. higher came the dart. straight at it, but some hundreds of yards to the rear, tore the dragonfly, white wings chasing red. "when he gets on our level," don murmured through clenched teeth, "his speed will get him away. if there was anything to do----" answering its easy controls as he stopped, surprised, the dart, almost at their altitude, swerved. don, not expecting a turn, kicked rudder nevertheless, to swing on the new flight path. the dart, still climbing, made almost a complete, degree turn. at the half-way point, almost half a circle accomplished, don went around on wingtip, to get the nose on a new point--he meant to make a direct diagonal across the turn, to try to meet, or forestall, the dart. but the smaller ship's pilot, with gun full open, nose up, seemed almost to leap upward before he reached the stalling point. he had caused don to lose the advantage of altitude. "clever!" don conceded, seeing the effect of the ruse. "now he has only to fly straight away, and we will lose him in twenty miles." chick uttered a cry of surprise. garry's teeth shut tight in dismay. don caught his breath living up to the name, dart, the lighter ship went into a wing-over, a maneuver by which, dropping a wing, and thus executing a turn, as it regained flying margin of speed, it exactly reversed the direction of flight. the dart, instead of going away from the dragonfly, had completely altered the conditions: it was coming at the bigger craft. just above, and right over the dragonfly came the other, full-gun. don felt the propeller stream tear at his right wing. there his own ability, coupled with the great steadiness of the ship he handled, saved the situation. gently, not forcing or over-controlling, he recovered stability. "why!" don screamed, "he tried to upset--us!" the pursued had turned pursuer! wingtip went down, came up, steadied. don again had control. over went chick's next flare, to light up the sky. they picked up the enemy ship, quickly. "he's made an immelmann turn!" shouted garry to don. by that maneuver, half a dive, half a climb, to get the ship to the top of a loop, and then a barrel roll, half-way, to bring it again on its proper keel, again the dart was in position to swoop. "he wants to drive us down, i think!" yelled garry. although he could not hear for the roar of their own engine, don also saw that the greater maneuverability of the other gave him an advantage they had not counted on. thinking they were to be the hounds, and the indian the hare, the chums found the conditions reversed. the hare, in his ruddy-winged craft, proposed to hunt down his adversary. don, realizing the danger to those with him, desiring no risk of life or limb or property, in the light of the flare, not yet dying, held up both hands in the old war-sign, "kamerad!" and swiftly caught his stick and throttle again. in the other ship the arm of the pilot pointed downward. he did not, however, try to enforce the order to descend by any more swoops: instead, he maneuvered the light craft to a level with, and not fifty feet beyond the dragonfly. don, uncomprehending, puzzled that they were being ordered down, when it had been his expectation to give that order to the other, let the nose drop a trifle, cut the gun, and went on a gentle glide, showing his intention to obey. the young pilot, red of face, skilful of control, flew along, and as they came almost on a level with the flare, burning still, he turned his head for a glower of triumph toward his victims. don, his eyes turned that way to watch the wing separation, saw a look of amazement change the triumphant scowl. the indian pilot put out and waved an arm--he pointed toward the airport. don nodded, banked, submissively, so astonished and mystified that he could not further plan. why had that coppery face shown astonishment? it was a puzzle added to many problems. with the other craft riding hard, above them, circling swiftly, the captors, now captives, obeyed the signal already given. over the edges of the swamps, searchers' parties showed lights as they realized that the chase had ended, as they supposed. to them it appeared that a ship was being compelled by a skilful adversary to go back. that was true--but it was the pursuing ship that had capitulated. hardly had don run out of speed, and, with garry and chick, leaped out to clear the runway, before the lighter dart came home. "for the sake of all that's mysterious!" called don as the indian cut his ignition. "we thought you were trying to escape. what made you turn on us?" "i thought you were the pilot i'm after--and i meant to get the man who stole our treasure chart!" again the chums were stupefied. chapter xxviii the story of a map turning away, the red-skinned pilot helped his father to the runway. the old medicine man was stiff from the cramped position, and somewhat shaken by his "stunting" trip through the air lanes. chick, belligerent and impulsive, followed john. "what did you mean by throwing that smoke flare in on us?" he demanded. "you might have suffocated us!" "i did not throw anything!" the young indian retorted, cool and quiet, as he steadied his father. "we watched, that is all. some one else is to blame, not i. and--when i find him!----" garry, seeing his face, felt glad that he was not the target of an emotion that contorted the copper-colored face into the mask of a veritable fury. "let's go to the hangar," don suggested. "maybe we can talk this out." "come!" agreed ti-o-ga, moving away. doc morgan, toby tew and some of the handlers who had stayed around discussing the exciting night's events, looked disappointed. "i think i'd like to come, too," observed toby. "in the name of all-possessed! this is a queer business." "it certainly is," doc agreed, and without invitation he ranged himself alongside of the theatre manager as the latter went with the party. mr. mcleod and the control chief joined them in the designing room. chairs and benches were brought. everybody found a seat. chick, before he sat down, hurried to the developing room, as don supposed, to estimate the damage done. chick went in, did something, came out. water was heard in the washing tanks. "what did you mean by saying you thought we were the ones who had stolen a map?" demanded garry, as chick took his place again. readily enough, the indian began to explain. "my father has met a good many strange people, because he is so well-known for his cures," he began. "a good many years ago he nursed an old sailor, and when he found he couldn't cure him, father told him the truth. the man was grateful, though, because he knew father had done his best. he knew he couldn't live, and he turned over to us a map." the map, he explained, was old and tattered. it showed, the sailor had claimed, a place in the long island swamps where, during a bad gale, many years before that, a pirate brig had been blown at high tide inland so far that it had become caught in the mud, and that ship, thus held prisoner, had been sucked down in a spot even then known as the devil's sinkhole. "and, as the man told us," john continued, "the ship had some chests of jewels and gold and silver aboard." he had been given a map, and the story, by his father. coming down from generation to generation, the tale and the chart had yielded nothing to searchers. "jewels--gold--silver!" chick spoke in awed tones. "a treasure ship!" "yes," the young indian nodded. "i was a schoolboy then. i went to carlisle, and then enlisted in a cadet training school for naval pilots, but several years ago, when i was about to be graduated, the hard times struck the world and the navy decided not to take on any more flyers, and i was too young to become a commercial pilot, so i gave up my course and went to work at whatever i could get." "many an army and navy cadet has been disappointed by learning he couldn't keep on, after his enlistment term," commented mr. mcleod. garry, who had always felt a respect for the older man, now began to feel a strong liking for the straight-forward indian, his son. "i went to work at a long island moving picture studio as an extra," john went on. "there i saw a chance to write and sell a story--and we made quite a good amount of money by playing in it." "we enjoyed your acting in 'red blood and blue,'" don commented. "but what about the map?" chick broke in. "while we were working at long island city," john informed him, "i used my spare time to study the swamps, and discovered that there was a spot, near this airport, known as devil's sink. i was in the swamp a great deal, but if there had ever been a ship, the mud had covered every trace of it. we gave up, father and i. but--and this is why i've told you all this--because i took an interest in aviation, i was around the seaplane base that was here before the airport was begun. i met some of the flyers. i suppose they wondered about our investigations, but of course we kept close mouths." "any of us would!" agreed garry. "father went back to the catskills, to continue his doctoring," john completed his astonishing revelation, "i went 'on tour' with the first of our films, making 'personal appearances.' that was before we had the smoke-trick scene thought out. "when i came home father told me about several of the airport folks, who had been visiting him. one was a pilot who said he was in the mail and commercial end of it----" "a mail flyer!" cried chick. "well--that's interesting!" "you mean--smith?" don inquired, eagerly. "that's just the trouble," john stated. "he came while father was off doctoring a man in the back country. he called himself that. my mother isn't very quick with her old eyes. he had his flying togs on, too, and she couldn't describe him closely except that he was tall, and thin." "and so was the mail flyer who came in tonight," chick cried. "the one we scared, so that he turned on us and tried to force the helicopter out of control. we're getting close to something--i think!" the man they discussed, apparently loitering outside the door, came in. "is that so?" he said sharply, defiantly. "i can tell you that you will be getting close to trouble if you start accusing me----" "what's all the excitement this time?" scott, limping down the hall, dropped gratefully into a chair that don vacated. "i see you got the indians----" "they got us, you mean!" explained garry. "well--any way you want it. did you recover--the film?" "no!" "didn't they have it!" "no!" john turned to answer courteously, "we had no film." "you're interrupting a thrilling treasure story," warned don. he and garry, with interruptions from chick, quickly put the pilot who liked spooks in possession of most of the important points. "well! it's wonderful!" scott commented. "we'll soon have that gibbering spook in the open. i'll keep still, though. go ahead, mr. ti." "there isn't much more," the young indian stated. "a mail flyer came to our place, while my father was away, and wasn't very easy to describe, because of his flying togs. but one thing mother did tell us--" "what?" chick was on the edge of his seat. "he had a little vest-pocket camera!" "he took pictures," commented garry. "i wonder what for?" "if you want my guess," don spoke up, "he wanted to get the locality clear in his mind, to study out how to go back--and--get the map." "worse than that!" the young indian told them. "father thought little of the camera side of his visit until, first doc morgan, and then mr. toby tew, and then mr. scott, came up, doctoring or for some reason that was covered by that excuse. he began to wonder, and wrote me. i cancelled my picture house engagements and went home--just before you two young chaps came along with the injured pilot." don and garry nodded. their arrival, and the story he gathered about the swamp, and the odd apparition haunting the air, had made the old, wise medicine man wonder, john added. he had deduced, sagely enough, the real motive for the apparition. it was, as the indians believed, no ghost-scare devised to ruin the airport owner and his venture. "we decided," john stated, "the ghost was being made to create a big scare among pilots and to keep them away from the swamp!" "i think you are right!" garry exclaimed. "i see it, now! if the flyer wanted to study that swamp--he'd do it from the air. he wouldn't want other pilots coming along to catch him flying to and fro--but, at that--how would he know what to look for--and where?" "the camera!" the indian said. "father went to his cupboard, where the map was stored, and found that while it had not been stolen, actually, it had been displaced. he had it under some other papers----" "was he sure he remembered just how it had been left?" asked don. "i got memory--never forget!" the old medicine man remarked briefly. "yes," john agreed, "father knew just how it had been--and it was not the same. it had been found--the look showed scratches where it had been picked, and then re-locked. that pilot had taken a picture of the chart!" "that accounts for the tracing on thin paper!" chick saw a clue. "he had to enlarge it, to study it, if he made the picture with a vest-pocket camera. that film isn't much larger than the film in a motion picture camera--he enlarged it, and from the enlargements on tracing paper, he copied it--and then camouflaged the map on the tracing by adding the wings and struts and frames. and--then he slipped in the hangars and removed the tracing from mr. vance's drawer, and took the blue-print i had made--so we haven't got far, after all." "no," garry agreed, and turned once more to john. "what did you do about it?" "came here, kept quiet, watched. i kept sending father word, and tonight, early, somebody told me that mail pilot who had been up at our place once was flying the mail! i lost my self-control. i was in a rage, i hated that fellow. he had cheated, falsified his errand, imposed on my mother's good nature----" "just a minute," scott broke in, "who told you he was coming in?" "i got the call at the theatre--just before the 'presentation' was on the stage," john stated. "he called me up--told me the flyer who had been at our place--and he knew i was looking for the man, he said--was flying in the mail." "did he say who was calling?" don was excited. the eyes of the young indian turned, covered the group. they rested on doc morgan. "you're crazy!" the-man-of-all-work leaped from his chair. "i won't stand for that, i won't. you shan't accuse me. i never called--i did not!" "you did--i think i recognize the voice!" cried john. "and was it you who flew over in the helicopter, out of the swamp, and tried to drive us out of control with rockets?" demanded garry. "yes. my father was in the moving picture theatre, in the room with the projectors, and he wheeled the spot lamp across to a window, and used it to light up and blind you! but i thought you were the man who had taken our property." "so that's how the queer searchlight came into our eyes!" snapped chick. "you know what sort of crime that is? endangering flyers!" "we thought you were the mail 'plane," john said regretfully. "just as i thought you were the culprit trying to get away just now when i used the dart to drive you down. but--i'm sorry." "you'd better be sorry you've accused me, too!" stormed doc morgan. "yes," scott agreed, "i'm not sure that isn't all made up! what were you doing at the airport, just before the film was stolen from our young friends? i saw you--running!" chick sprang up. "it doesn't matter!" he cried. "let's stop accusing--and find out! the pieces we saved are about washed by now. come on--don-garry!" chapter xxix clues in camouflage smelling still of the fumes from the smoke flare, which someone--doc morgan probably--had cleared out, the dark room was close and unpleasant as chick closed its door and, switching on the white printing lamp, faced his two friends. "let's be very quiet," he said, earnestly. "i was only half listening to the arguments. while they went on i thought of a way to draw the real 'ghost of mystery airport' into the open--or--into the darkroom!" "i don't understand," garry spoke softly, although the door was tight. "you mean by showing what we had clipped out of the film?" don asked. "it was just put in the fixing bath--how do you know the fumes of the chemicals in the smoke bomb didn't ruin it--stain it or fog it?" "i don't care a whack of a stick about the clippings," chick stated. "this is my plan. when i was in here before, i put the bits of film in the wash water, but they were all dirt, and chemicals. i don't believe they're worth bothering with. but--i know that the 'ghost' is among the people in the designing room. doc followed toby. mr. tew volunteered to come and listen. the air mail pilot was loitering around, listening. the two indians----" "oh, i'm sure it's one or the other," garry agreed, "but that doesn't tell us your plan or how we can see which one it is. for my part, i'm in favor of looking at the film clippings. if they show us that we have the right idea, that a flyer has been taking pictures over the swamp, it will prove he is looking for the treasure, and not just trying to ruin don's uncle----" "oh, we know the motive--treasure hunting," chick retorted. "that's been our trouble, before. we've tired so hard to show what was being done, and how, that we couldn't take time and brains to discover--who!" garry was a trifle nettled. "i suppose you are going to discover 'who' without even looking at the clue scott thought might be in that undeveloped film." "i'm going to make him--discover himself!" even don stared. garry laughed, a little scoffingly. "all right!" chick took the implied unbelief good-humoredly. "think this over: if you had flung a smoke bomb, and gotten away with evidence, and you heard somebody say they had some already developed--what would you do?" "run!" chuckled garry. "i wouldn't!" don saw chick's argument. "i'd be uneasy, and uncertain, and i'd worry until, finally, i might feel compelled to come and see just how much you had against me!" "that's my plan!" retorted chick. garry agreed with don. it was clever of the youngest chum. "while we wait, we might as well see if we have evidence, or whatever it may be--against anybody!" don added. chick lifted the wet film from its washing bath, handling it carefully by the edges to avoid spoiling the wet, swollen, delicate surface emulsion containing the pictures. holding it up to the light, he showed a smoky, already somewhat distorted image in one piece of the clipped film. "i can see--letters," don said, peering toward the light. "there's an 'a' followed by a figure 'one' and then--it's spoiled by scraping on the floor when the fixing trap got upset." "just on the edge of the last 'frame' of moving picture film, you can see a flat, opaque blur," garry commented. "that's an aerial picture, taken from above! i've seen those air photographs in the movies. what's to prove this is a picture of our swamp? it's all fogged!" "i count more on our 'ghost' coming here than on that film," chick declared. "i'll put that in a drying clip, and hang it behind the tanks in case we can use it sometime. now, here's the other clipping!" the second one he exhibited was more clear. "that's the swamp, all right," garry commented. "the first one is one of the smoked-up parts we threw away after the first trial. but this one is the swamp, and no mistake. that is," he corrected himself, "it's a section of it, along the water front. see how the shore curves in and out--and the beginnings of crab channel and the other smaller inlets?" chick and don assented; but the pictures gave them nothing new to go by, more than assurance that somebody had flown over the swamps to take air films. of course, as chick argued, that fitted in with the idea that the mysterious "somebody" had put the projector head and the other things into a locker of the pilots' quarters as a means to throwing suspicion on another, as the key in the control chief's old coat and vest proved. the film with it was not the same as that used for the apparition in the cloud. it was only a "blind," as chick argued. also, as don added, the film could have been taken by the control chief as well as by another, except that he was seldom away daytimes. "but doc morgan is," garry remarked. "and toby tew is in and around the swamps all summer, and could easily hire some pilot from another airport to fly him--nobody would have paid much attention, because the engineers were using airplanes, too. and i think it was to stop the engineers from draining the swamp before he had taken the treasure that our 'ghost' worked his spectre-in-the-clouds!" he added. "sh-h-h-h!" chick caught each by an arm. "listen!" footsteps sounded on the floor outside, approaching. were they hesitating? did they echo with such caution because they belonged to a guilty body? slowly they came closer. there was a knock on the door. "when i open the door--grab him!" chick urged. he waited. a hand tested the door knob. the door rattled a little. "open up!" came a muffled voice. "wait! let him get anxious!" a thumping came on the door. garry and don grew tense. chick's hand was on the bolt. it shot back. "now!" out they dashed, to encircle, to grapple with a figure standing off guard. "here! stop that!" the voice, deep and curt, made them draw back, look up at the form and face they released in amazed disappointment. they had captured the chief of police! "uh--er--" don stammered, "we--we expected--the--the 'ghost!'" "if you can prove you've caught him you can have my badge," the good-natured officer chuckled. "as a matter of fact, i came in to see what was the result of your investigations. my men are all in the swamp, awaiting orders. we saw you bring in the indians--they're all out in the other room still, waiting for a report; your folks are, i mean. "what have you got in the way of evidence, clues or proofs?" he asked. they told him and showed him their bits of film. "wouldn't stick in any court," he stated. "any finger prints are washed off long since, and the pictures could be cut from any news reel picture of airplane flights for observation purposes. no, boys----" "we thought the 'ghost' would come to see what we had discovered," chick said lamely. "well, i'm not the 'ghost.' you'll have to try some other scheme." "don't you think this 'a' and the figure 'one' might help?" asked garry, indicating the smoked film, dimly showing the letters. "it might--if there was anything to tie it up with." "if only we had the tracing of the indian's map," don said ruefully. "or the blue-print chick made--that had some sort of complicated figures on it--" "where is it--where is either one?" "they were stolen, chief." "yes!--" chick's face became suddenly vivid with excitement, "yes!--but--when i made the blue-print, i picked up two pieces of paper and only discovered it after i had exposed the paper under the tracing!" hastily he switched off the white lamp, putting on the ruby light. "i put the other sheet back, because it didn't show much--but, you all know, there is a way to force up a stronger image--with intensifier chemicals." feverishly chick searched in the laboratory cupboard. garry aided him, while don got the trays cleaned, and the chief came in and closed the door. half an hour later mr. mcleod caused the door to be opened to him. "what's going on?" "look!" don's trembling finger indicated a faint, but clearly discernible figure on a sheet of printing paper. the blue-print had been developed as far as it was possible to bring out the figure. then a greatly under-exposed camera photograph had been made, on sensitive film, and this, by process of development known to chick and the rest, intensified the lights and shadows which were more "contrasty" because of deliberate under-exposure. the result was a readable print. there was the camouflaged map, apparently the hull outline of some old-fashioned ship, seagoing brig or privateer, with its sharply cut-under prow and overhanging stern, its roughly outlined deck and wavering waterline. over that, distinguishable because in an ink that was dark and printed out whiter, was the outline of the airplane sketch. "camouflage!" mr. mcleod agreed, "but----" "excuse me, uncle!" don interrupted. "if you will study that design, carefully, the way we have been doing for the past three minutes, and remember all that has happened, you'll see that there are two clues in the camouflage. but we don't want to stop to explain them. we want the 'ghost' to play his last 'engagement'--and--we think he will!" then they walked out, in a group, to the larger room where the unsuspecting culprit waited. chapter xxx baited wings never had toby tew "staged" at his palace a better "presentation" than the one the chums were about to enact. with the police chief aiding, they had worked out a plan that must almost certainly bring their quarry to them. don, with excited face, raced through the designing section of the big hangar's upper floor, at the end. doc saw him; toby saw him; so did others, under suspicion. "all right, chief!" he shouted over his shoulder, "sorry we haven't room in the dragonfly to take you along; but we'll signal with a set of red, white, and blue flares when we find the treas--after we're through." he pretended to correct his supposed slip. old ti-o-ga barred his way to the door. "you find?" he grunted. "think so!" don admitted. "tell you better after i've made sure!" "where you think you find?" the old indian stood firm. don was secretly delighted: this gave him an opportunity. "you see," he explained, "after a photograph was made of your map, it was enlarged, and a tracing was made, of the larger size. that tracing was disguised with airplane parts, but it still looked like the hull of some kind of boat, a brig, or a brigantine. the 'ghost' was plotting the swamp out in narrow strips. the design enabled him to put lines across, looking like inch and foot divisions--but they were all sections of the swamp. you see, he flew to and fro, over the swamp, taking moving pictures. then he kept a projector head here, in a locker, and when nobody was on this floor, at night, he'd develop his films, dry them in our dark room, and then project them by putting the projector head in front of our enlarging camera lamp. he was searching for any place that looked as though a ship had gone down. but--he was all wrong." "how was he 'all wrong?'" demanded the control chief eagerly. "he was looking for a sunken brigantine--or some sort of boat!" "how was that so 'wrong?'" the mail pilot, lurking in the background, wanted to know. "we saw through the camouflaged design," don said. "we had a developed picture, what camera men in the movie colonies call a 'shot' of the swamp, from very high up--a wide-angle shot! it showed all the creeks and channels. we compared that with the blue-print we had--that the 'ghost' didn't take away!" he spoke meaningly, "and we saw that the little mark probably indicating the treasure place, in the real map, that looked as if it was just a frame joint in the airplane sketch, and showed the treasure in the hold of the 'brigantine' at the stern, was really a mark at a point in one of the swamp channels!" "you don't say!" scott bent forward. "you see, the part of the map that looks like the deck of the brig--is--crab channel!" "in the name of all-possessed!" cried toby tew, "tell us the rest--quick!" "the wavy line is the other channel, almost parallel with crab channel," don was willing enough to speak, "and the line that looked like the stem of the ship was really the shore line between the channels while----" "the bow part must have been the--" doc morgan was shaking with excitement, "--the little channel alongside of the boathouse." "gosh-a-mighty!" toby leaped up, "that cross in the tracing was right by the boathouse, then. in the name of all-possessed--to think i've been storing dories right over treasure--let's----" "just a moment!" the police chief entered with mr. mcleod. "nobody goes out of here except don and his airlane guard. the treasure is the indian's property if found. no one else gets a chance to rush ahead and secure it--if found! stand aside, ti-o-ga!" the indian, realizing that he must obey, moved away. don dashed out. anyone in the upper windows at the hangar side, watching, could have seen the dragonfly take off almost before it had rising speed, and go roaring into the dark swamp air. they could have seen, and some did see, a landing flare go over near the sheet of water where the boathouse stood. "did you telephone--and get the answer we expected?" don asked garry as they tied up the dragonfly to a part of the old wharf. "i did, and chick is about to unload what he found--in the boarding house room you mentioned!" they took some cased objects, and a projector head, out of the cockpit, carried them into the old hovel, set them up by hooded flashlight rays, and then sat down in a corner to wait. the water slapped and gurgled under the flooring. an hour passed. the wind that changes at dawn began to sigh and moan through the cracks of the old wall. "well--" don stretched, wearily, "it's almost dawn. maybe our plan won't work--listen! here comes--somebody!" chapter xxxi "the man who never lived" through the door came a muffled hail. "hello, inside the boathouse!" according to a plan already made don tiptoed into a dark corner as garry went swiftly, silently, to the other, nearest the land side of the old building. chick, smallest, quickest of the three, crouched close beside the closed door, pressed tightly against the wall. a hand fumbled at the latch. the door swung sharply inward. a beam of light leaped across the enclosed space. instantly chick lunged forward: his arms wrapped about a pair of slim legs. "i've got him!" as the man toppled forward garry and don came like panthers from the respective corners, springing on the figure. realizing his helplessness their antagonist grunted a surrender. don kicked the door shut. garry saw that his comrade placed his back against it, and let go his hold. chick sprang back, tense and ready for any surprise move. "just as i thought," don said triumphantly. "the air mail flyer!" "and what of it?" the man got to his feet, as garry picked up the electric flash and laid it on the table, still glowing. he directed its beams on a quantity of objects they had set there, ready for such a climax. "we'll tell you," don began. "first, mister pilot, you learned from the indian, john, that there was some treasure hidden somewhere in this swamp. you went to the indian village, concealing most of yourself in your pilot's togs. then you located the map ti-o-ga had, and took a picture of it with a vest pocket camera, came back and used our dark room enlarging outfit to make the tiny picture big enough to trace out and then you camouflaged that map tracing with wings and other airplane parts." garry turned his light on various objects as he took up the accusation. "this is the vest pocket camera." he brought it into sharp relief. "chick found it in your cottage room." "you're crazy! i never owned one." "no use blustering!" chick cried. "the whole thing is plain to us! you wanted a bigger map so you could lay out cross-sectional lines on it and number them. i made a blue-print of the tracing while we had it and by good luck i had picked up two pieces of paper to print on, and then put one aside, the lower one; but it was clear enough, after we made a contact negative from it on film, and then redeveloped and intensified that! we saw the cross lines, and the figures on the paper checked with figures on the bottom of the tracing, most of them being checked with pencil checks to show they had been covered." "and what did i do that for?" "you laid out a chart of this swamp over the camouflaged map," don took up the accusing story, "then you went to port washington and bought an amateur movie camera, and a lot of film. garry knows the photography store owner, and he got his home, tonight, and learned that a man in pilot's togs who said he was a mail pilot, bought the outfit." the man was impressed. "clever, but not true!" he scoffed. "all through the mystery," chick cried, "you have been camouflaging! you covered your trail by putting suspicion on others. that tracing, in this place, puts suspicion on the theatre man, toby tew, because he was one who'd know how to do the ghost trick with an old airplane crash film and a projector." "you put the key to the locker where you hid the projector you used at the hangars, late at night, in the control chief's vest, because he might have been able to cast airplane shadows on clouds with the searchlight beam!" don spoke crisply, "and--you camouflaged the map--but, then, you overdid it!" "yes!" agreed garry, "you went too far. you wanted to make the tracing seem like a new design, after you saw the control chief's initials on the tracing he left here! so you drew in on the entering-edge of the wing's a 'slotted-wing' sketch. now, the control chief knows light, but he doesn't know that a slotted wing is an invention that helps to reduce 'burbling' in take-off, and lets the 'camber' of a wing change automatically--that's too technical for a control man. only a pilot would know that, because it's patented and controlled by one english firm." "and your camouflage showed us that the man we wanted must be a pilot, just by that!" cried don. "then we examined the frame-bracing and saw the little cross-mark you had to show where the map said to look for buried treasure--only you were looking for a ship!" "all very cleverly worked out--but you've got the wrong man!" "we'll see! chick, set off the red, white, and blue signal to the chief," garry ordered. chick's move toward the door was arrested by a startling sound under the flooring. they all stood petrified. slowly they wheeled to watch the trap in the corner. it opened. up came the green-capped, green-masked head, the oilskin shrouded body and rubber-gloved hands of their demon--the man who never lived. "gosh-a-mighty!" he croaked hoarsely, "but you're bright boys!" "toby tew!" chick exclaimed, recognizing the phrase. "you!----" "in the name of all-possessed!" croaked the figure, "who else?" "you've got your 'nerve' to brazen it out this way!" garry said; but there was a strange look on his face; the voice, for all its disguising hoarseness, seemed oddly familiar--and not that of toby. "are you just doing it to try and save this mail flyer?" "gosh-a-mighty!" the figure retorted, "no! time's passed for trying to camouflage, that's all. you think you read that traced chart? you didn't! that cross telling where treasure was hid, now! i put it on the tracing to keep you away from the real spot, same as i bought an old, discarded skeleton from a hospital and had it discovered to start people looking in that locality--far away from where i dug and scooped in mud." "well," chick cried, "you are caught! the swamp is watched. when you left the chief, he had you watched." "gosh-a-mighty! no such thing! he left us all go. all i had to do was to go home, start to go to bed, get these togs, walk down to the seaplane landing stage, tell the detective on guard i was a special officer assigned by the chief to patrol the swamp shore--then in i got in that crash boat--and here i am, with good tail-winds and everything my own way!" "you're not toby tew!" garry exclaimed. "toby doesn't talk about 'seaplane landing stages' and 'tail winds.' those are aviation and he's a boatman as well as a theatre man--and he can't fly!" "then it's doc!" cried chick. "no!" don had caught the expressions and rightly judged them. "doc couldn't draw an airplane tracing: certainly the only other man besides this mail flyer, who knows about slotted wings and can make them is----" "scott!" as garry shouted it the disguised man nodded. "but--scott flew us here at the first," chick expostulated. "besides--he's injured!" "camouflage!" laughed the man, brazen and triumphant. "i got you to fly here to make sure you wouldn't suspect me. besides, it helped me get the ship here, so i could go in a dory to my helicopter, and 'put on my sky show.' then--with the storm coming, i had the dart to get back in: i used these oilskins, while i dug. i had the tracing made to guide my aerial photography, and as soon as i located the buried chest i left the tracing where it would get doc suspected. i left a key where it might incriminate the control chief. the more people you suspected the more i could work. i had to burrow for that treasure--but--now--i've got it all loaded and ready to fly to a place where a boat can take me out to the twelve mile limit. there a rum-runner will ship me for parts unknown. as far as being hurt by the 'prop' goes, i pretended that to get out of flying that night--i knew the indians were after me. and now----" "you can't escape!" taunted chick. "the swamp is surrounded." "but the police left some very powerful arguments where i could get them--and they'll help me escape instead of catching me." then the figure on the ladder snatched a round, queer object from under its oilskins. instantly the reference to police supplies became clear to don. "look out!" yelled don. "tear-gas--don't breathe--run!" the bomb flew, dropped, burst. garry and chick, their sleeves held over their faces, leaped toward the doorway; but the bomb, flung at don's feet spread its fumes swiftly. the trap door slammed to the roar of exultant laughter. the pilot, off guard, stumbled against the table and fell. there came a cry and a cough--and silence. choked, gasping, with smarting eyes streaming with tears, the chums staggered out. "in case you might wonder--" scott's voice floated to them from the humming electric launch, "i left the hospital the same night i pretended to be injured by the propeller--i knew the indian was going to try to drive me down, and pretended to be laid up. but i could run fast enough to come back, smoke you out and get the film--it had a picture on it i didn't want seen--and i flung it out into the swamp and went back to my room--put the things that you found in that mail flyer's room where you saw them--and came back to stay with the chief till he sent me off to bed--only, i came here to load the treasure. now--good-bye. it flies in five minutes!" "not much it doesn't!" muttering, choking, coughing, don gasped orders. flares to signal, as soon as chick and garry got the pilot out of the house. his job was to start the dragonfly. he staggered to the wharf-side, dropped into the craft--saw that the ignition wire was cut! chapter xxxii a flying finish feverishly don worked with spare cable to wire around the ignition switch and get his engine going. from the boathouse staggered garry and chick, coughing, their eyes streaming. they dragged, by the shoulders, the unconscious pilot. "his head must have struck something!" gasped garry, dabbing at his eyes. suddenly something snapped into his mind. "chick!" he choked and gasped, then turning, stuttered, "my first aid--kit! i left it--on--path--promontory--when--mail 'plane went down!" staggering, but bravely eager to help a man who was hurt, the youth took his way off the wharf, along the path, into the grass toward the end of the shore that curved out into the inlet, making the wavering line of the channel on one side. the roar of an airplane engine came--but it was in the air! don looked up. there was the dart, coming over, shooting the water landing, making its approach, coming in, setting down! he recognized, at its controls, as he flung aside his helmet, the pilot who had been injured in the first crack-up, the night they saw the apparition: he had been driven down from the farm by its owner and was sufficiently healed in his arm to handle stick and throttle. with him was the police chief. "get him?" hailed the officer, as the gas was cut and switch put off, and as don shook his head, shouting his explanation, the dart ran up close to the wharf. "the swamp is surrounded," the chief cried. "we let them all go, as you had planned. didn't the culprit walk into the trap?" don told him breathlessly what had happened, urged that the dart go aloft and scout. the chief urged don to occupy his place, while he attended to the man over whom chick was working incompetently. don hesitated: they might need to use the dragonfly, also, he protested. the newly recovered pilot suggested that don fly the dart, reconnoitering, as it was the less stable ship and in his condition he preferred the steadier, more easily controlled craft. they began the exchange, listening for a motor. no sound came. garry, recovering his strength, if still teary-eyed, blundering along to find his abandoned first aid kit, saw the dart go in, and felt that for all his bravado, mister spook was almost as good as captured. he broke through the tall grasses, near where the path ended. his eyes saw an amazing sight! there, where the mail 'plane had gone into the mud, fresh planking had been laid across the mud, and on it rested the airplane, the boards concealed by wings and a camouflage of cut grass: its broken hull had been re-covered, freshly doped. it had no pontoons; but on each side of the fuselage slanted auxiliary wings of thin boards had been attached by wire. if it could be started and raced off the board support, he saw, the slanted planks would serve to lift it higher with each gain of speed, as a boat of the speed type is lifted by its side-flanges. and--in his disguising garments, scott was working feverishly at the motor. garry leaped forward. scott tore off his mask to show a face of fury and dismay. "stand back!" scott lifted a small missile. garry knew the tear-gas and its effect. he hesitated. "shame!" he cried. "you can't escape. even if you did fool us by taking us to look for your own self, at the start, you can't fool us any longer." he was talking against time, getting his feet set. "come and turn that prop, or i'll--throw this!" garry changed his tactics; meaning to leap, ducking the missile, he altered his plan. "all right!" he agreed, docile with pretended fear. he moved toward the propeller, stepping on the edges of the boards. he saw the electric crash launch floating just beyond the nose of the ship. menaced with the tear-gas, he nevertheless made his leap, across the water, from the planks, that gave under him, to catch the coaming of the boat's cockpit. the missile flew through the air after him, but garry, in the channel, went down, until his feet touched mud; holding his breath he swam under the launch, coming up on the other side. he trod water, concealed. to his dismay he heard the man, discarding his disguise, twist angrily at the propeller of the repaired airplane. it caught on a firing point of the engine, swung rapidly. the man rushed along the planks. drowned by the noise close at hand, garry failed to hear the dart rev up its engine, turning to get into the wind. in it was chick and at its controls was don. garry disregarded all danger, clambered into the boat, tumbling in close to the wheel and switch. he tore at the latter, sending current into the motor. with a howl of rage scott drove his airplane off the makeshift runway and straight at the launch. he hurled a missile. it did not strike the boat. garry backed water, up the channel. the airplane had to take the air or foul its wings in grass. it rose. a bomb dropped--garry, full speed astern, avoided it and backed up the channel. he could not turn. up soared the dart. it came around. don saw the mail ship turning to cross the bay. full-gun, he took up pursuit, heedless of the chief's warning that their tear-gas, brought in case the swamp yielded the culprit, had been taken, must be in the hands of the escaping scott. seeing that the dragonfly's pilot had trouble with his arm, don knew he alone stood between scott and escape. the dart was fast. so was the mail ship, once free of the water. garry, backing up the channel, saw don fly over. he kept on, until he reached the wider sheet of water, backed around, swung close to the dragonfly, climbed aboard, and feverishly begged to have a chance at the controls. the other pilot, not too strong, yielded. the dragonfly started. don climbed, losing some advantage; but he knew that it would be a long chase--wanted it to be so. the man in the mail ship, with his bravado serving to the end, lifted and showed strings of jewels that flashed vividly in the first rays of the rising sun. don saw that scott meant to cross to connecticut. it would be a run across long island sound. don did not want to drive down the ship over water--he would lose the treasure. he saw, far behind, the dragonfly. the crossing was made in record time, and then don, in a ship easily maneuvered, raced up above the other. then chick screeched a warning. up toward them came one of those missiles--a tear-gas bomb. don made a quick barrel-roll. it caused the bomb to miss him. falling, the missile was in the path of the mail ship. straight into it, as it fell, scott raced. it smashed in his cockpit. doomed by his own act, he lost control, and in a slanting, catapulting dive, struck just beyond the shore line, on firm earth. and thus the ghost of mystery airport passed. the gay triangle the romance of the first air adventurers. by william le queux published by jarrolds, lonodn. the gay triangle, by william le queux. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ the gay triangle, by william le queux. chapter one. the mystery of rasputin's jewels. from a derelict shed adjoining a lonely road which stretched for miles across the norfolk fens, a strange shape slid silently into the night mist. it was a motor-car of an unfamiliar design. the body, of gleaming aluminium, was of unusual width, and was lifted high above the delicate chassis and spidery bicycle wheels that seemed almost too fragile to bear the weight of an engine. noiselessly the strange car backed out of the shed. there was no familiar _teuf-teuf_ of the motor-engine; so silent was the car that it might have been driven by electricity, save that the air was filled with the reek of petrol. swinging round on the grass of the meadow, the car headed for the gateway, turned into the road, and sped along silently for a few miles. it halted at length at a point where the narrow roadway widened somewhat and ran along an elevated embankment evidently constructed to raise the road above flood-level. as the car came to rest, two leather-helmeted figures descended from the tiny cockpit in the body of it. one was a slim young fellow of twenty-five or twenty-six; the other, despite the clinging motor costume, showed feminine grace in every movement. it was a young girl, evidently in the early twenties. the two set busily to work, and in a few minutes their strange car had undergone a wonderful transformation. from each side shot out long twin telescopic rods. these, swiftly joined together by rapidly unrolled strips of fabric, soon resolved themselves into the wings of a tiny monoplane. from a cleverly hidden trap-door in the front of the car, appeared an extending shaft bearing a small propeller, whose twin blades, hinged so as to fold alongside the shaft when not in use, were quickly spread out and locked into position. a network of wire stays running from the wings to the fuselage of the car were speedily hooked up and drawn taut. then the two mysterious figures climbed again into the transformed car. there was a low, deep hum as the propellers began to revolve, the monoplane shot forward a few yards along the road, then lifted noiselessly, and, graceful and silent as a night-bird, vanished into the shrouding mist. the adventures of the gay triangle had begun! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ dick manton, lounging idly in the assembly hall of the little town of fenways, in the centre of the norfolk broads, watched with eyes half critical and half amused the throng of dancers circling gaily to the strains of three violins and a tinkling piano which did duty for an orchestra when the youth of fenways amused itself with a dance. dick was wholly and entirely a product of the war. the lithe, slim body, hatchet face, and keen, resolute eyes stamped him from head to foot with the unmistakable _cachet_ of the airman. he smiled, as he watched the dancers, in acknowledgment of the gay greeting flung to him by a score of laughing girls who, with the joy of youth, were giving themselves unreservedly to the pleasures of the fox-trot. dick was a general favourite, and more than one pretty girl in the room would have been only too glad to arouse something more than a passing interest in the young airman, whose dare-devil exploits above the german lines in france had brought him the flying cross, whose brilliant career had been cut short by a bullet wound, received in a "dog-fight" above bethune, which had rendered him unfit for the continual hardships of active service. he had been offered a "cushy" job in acknowledgment of his services. but dick could not bear the idea of being "in the show" and yet not of it, and had accepted his discharge with what philosophy he could muster. his chief asset was his amazing knowledge of motor-engines. they had been his one absorbing craze. while in the army he had studied intently every type of engine to which he could gain access; he had read every book on the subject upon which he could lay his hands, and even among the expert pilots of the air force he was acknowledged as a master of engine craft. it was this knowledge of engines which had sent dick into the motor business. he knew, of course, that he could have obtained a good post with one of the big companies had he chosen to stay in london. but his nerves were still tingling from the stress of war, and he was still weak from the after effects of his wounds. so, for the sake of peace and fresh air, he had invested a part of his capital in a small motor business at fenways. if he was not making a fortune he was at least living, and the keen norfolk air was rapidly bringing him back to health. at times the longing for the old life, the rash and whirl of the city, came upon him with almost overwhelming force. suddenly a cameo of his days in france leapt into his mental vision. he found himself once again staring, as in a mirror, at the slim figure of a half-fainting french girl stealing through the dusk towards the british lines. a crackling volley of shots from the boche lines followed her, but by some miracle she came on unhurt. dick had been sent up to the front to supervise the removal of a german plane of a new pattern which had crashed just behind the trenches and had wandered into the front line (where, of course, he had no business!), and it was he who caught the exhausted girl in his arms as she dropped into the british trench. he had often wondered since what had become of yvette pasquet. she had stayed on in the little town where dick's squadron was stationed, and they had become good friends. dick had thus learnt something of her tragic history. an alsatian, french to the finger-tips, yvette had lived in london for some years and spoke english well. but she had seen her father and mother shot down by the germans on the threshold of their home, and she herself had only been preserved from a worse fate by a young german officer, who had risked his life to save her from his drink-maddened soldiers. sweet and gentle in all other respects, yvette pasquet was a merciless fiend where germans were concerned; her hatred of them reached a passion of intensity which dominated every other emotion. how she had managed to get through the german lines she never quite remembered. her father had been well-to-do, and before her escape after the final tragedy, yvette had managed to secure the scrip and shares which represented the bulk of his fortune, and had brought them across with her safely concealed under her clothing. from that time forward she had been the brain of a remarkable organisation which had devoted itself to smuggling from the occupied regions into france gold, jewellery, and securities, which had been hidden from the prying eyes of the hun. after his wound dick had lost sight of her. for many months he had lain dangerously ill, and when he had recovered sufficiently to write, yvette had disappeared. dick's reverie was broken at length by a light touch on his arm. "a penny for your thoughts!" said a soft voice at his elbow. dick came to earth with a jerk. the voice was that of yvette herself! and when he turned he found her standing beside him, smiling into his face with the light of sheer mischief dancing in her brilliant eyes. with her was a tall young frenchman, obviously her brother. "yvette!" dick gasped in sheer amazement. "what on earth brings you here?" "i came to look for you, my friend," was the quaint but sufficiently startling reply in excellent english. "but let me present my brother. jules--this is mr manton." dick, his head in a whirl, mechanically acknowledged the introduction. yvette had come to look for him! what could it mean? "we came down from london this evening," yvette explained, "and are staying at the `george.' we soon found your rooms, and hearing you were here decided to give you a surprise." "you have certainly succeeded," dick rejoined. "but how on earth did you learn i was in fenways?" "well," said yvette, "it's no mystery. i happened to meet vincent quite by accident in paris, and he told me where you were." vincent was an old flying colleague, and one of the very few people with whom dick had cared to keep in touch. "i have tried several times to find you," went on the girl, "but even your own war office didn't seem to know what had become of you after you left the army, and my letters were returned to me." then her manner changed. "dick," she said seriously, "i came down to see you on business-- important business. i can't explain here. i want you to come back to town with us in the morning. my brother and i have a proposition to put before you. we want your help. will you come?" wonderingly, dick consented. "yes," he said, "i shall be glad. my assistant can quite well look after things here while i am away." "very well," said yvette, with a look of relief which did not escape dick, "that's settled. now let us enjoy ourselves." dick spent a sleepless night, crowded with old memories which kept him wide awake. next morning he found himself with his two companions in the train for london. arriving at liverpool street, they took a taxi and were soon comfortably ensconced in a private room at a small but exclusive west end hotel. it was not until after lunch that yvette opened a conversation that was destined to exercise a powerful influence on dick manton's career. "now, dick,"--she called him "deek"--"before i say anything i must make it a condition that under no circumstances will you ever mention what passes between us. i know i can trust you implicitly. i am going to make you an offer which you are absolutely free either to accept or refuse. it will surprise you, and you are entitled to a full explanation. but in case you refuse, not a word of our conversation must ever pass your lips under any circumstances whatever. do you agree?" "of course i do," replied dick, wondering what was coming. "very well," laughed yvette, "now i can tell you everything." "you will remember," she went on, "what i was doing in france--smuggling money and valuables out of the reach of the germans. well, i am doing the same thing still, but on a different scale and by different methods. i dare say you know that there is an enormous amount of smuggling into england; the heavy import duties have made it a very profitable game. what you probably don't know is that it is mostly carried on by germans. there is a regular organisation at work, clever, secret, and highly efficient. but the chain, like every chain, has a weak link, and i happen to have found it. the head of the whole undertaking is otto kranzler, of frankfort. you will remember him. he was the commandant responsible for the murder of my father and mother." "i remember!" dick exclaimed. "at the very moment kranzler is in paris, looking for an opportunity to get into england with a wonderful collection of jewels, which formed a part of those given to the mock-monk rasputin by the late czarina of russia and some of his wealthy female admirers. now, dick, i want those jewels, and i am going to have them?" "but how?" queried dick. "kranzler is in a serious difficulty. so far as i can make out the jewels were brought into germany by a bolshevik agent for disposal, of course, against the german law. rasputin's jewels were liable to confiscation, and by some means the german secret police got wind of the affair. kranzler, however, was too quick for them, and slipped over the frontier into france in the nick of time. now he is in a quandary. "under french law he has so far committed no offence, and cannot be arrested. but if he attempts either to deal in the jewels or to export them he will find himself in trouble. the french police are wide-awake--of course, they got a tip from the germans--and are watching him as a cat watches a mouse. "so there he is," she went on, "planted in an hotel with jewels worth at least fifty thousand pounds, and unable to move! his one chance is to get the jewels away by a messenger. he is clever and may succeed, but i don't think he will. he has already tried but without success. "i have a plan. i think i can get the jewels out of the hotel. but they must be brought to england, and there is the difficulty. when kranzler loses them he can't make any formal complaint, but he will certainly get out of france as speedily as possible; that will give the game away, and the watch on the boats will be keener than ever. i dare not risk sending them by a messenger. an aeroplane is the only chance. and i want you to fly that aeroplane!" dick coloured painfully. "but, my dear yvette," he stammered, "you don't mean to say you intend--?" "to steal the jewels?" yvette completed the sentence. "yes," dick admitted, horribly embarrassed. he found it impossible to associate yvette with what appeared to him a piece of cold-blooded larceny. "i quite expected you to say that, dick," yvette replied. "and perhaps i should have thought less of you if you had said anything else. but surely you don't take me for a common thief?" without waiting for dick's reply, she went on: "now, try to look at this affair through our french eyes for a moment. i'm going to have those jewels--at least, i'm going to try. who am i hurting? a german who robbed me of my father and mother! would any frenchman or frenchwoman hesitate a moment? he is a thief and a murderer! whom am i benefiting? myself? not for a moment; i wouldn't touch a penny of the money. if i bring this off--and i think i shall--there will be at least a million francs to help on the restoration of the devastated regions of france. now, dick, you helped france once. won't you do it again? i must have some one i can trust, and i know no one but yourself. it will be great sport to beat the police of two countries," she added with a laugh. dick's imagination caught fire. it was impossible to resist yvette's appeal. he was more weary than he knew of his humdrum life in norfolk, and here was an adventure after his own heart. his mind was swiftly made up. "i'm on, yvette!" he said shortly. to his amazement, the girl burst into a sudden passion of tears. "on? dick--if you could only realise what it means to me!" she sobbed. "i have been all through the smashed-up parts of france--everything, even our churches, is smashed and broken and defiled. the poor people are working desperately to restore their old homes, and they only want help to be happy again. but france has no money, and germany won't pay--as every one foresaw except your british statesmen. do you think i am likely to hesitate to rob a german thief when it means happiness for hundreds of french men and women and children?" he tried clumsily to comfort her, and at length she grew more calm. "there is no time to be lost," she declared. "we must get over to paris to-night. i have lately learnt to fly, and my aeroplane is hidden a few miles from paris. the real problem is to get hold of the jewels and bring them safely out of the hotel. then the aeroplane can start at once." "but what about lympne?" dick asked. "you know all aeroplanes entering england from the continent must land at lympne for identification and customs examination. and the jewels would certainly be found." "you must not land at lympne," yvette declared positively. "you will have to get in unobserved and land somewhere away from any aerodrome. you can abandon the aeroplane; that won't matter if you get through safely." "and leave it to be identified in a few hours' time by the engine marks?" asked dick. "no, yvette, that won't do. and besides," he went on, "there wouldn't be the slightest chance of getting through. the new wireless direction-finders would give me away long before i could even reach the coast, and the air police would do the rest. i should simply be shadowed till i landed--or even shot down if i refused to land! four smuggling planes were picked up last week by the new wireless-detectors, and every one was captured." "then i don't know what i shall do," yvette replied blankly. "i thought you would surely be able to slip over at night." then dick, even against his better judgment, which warned him he was taking on a foolhardy enterprise, sprang his great surprise. "well," he said, "perhaps i can help you, after all. you know, in fenways i'm supposed to be only a motor-dealer. really, i have been working for over two years quite secretly on a combination of aeroplane and motor-car, and now i think i have got it about perfect. you can change the motor-car to a little monoplane in less than half an hour. the wing struts telescope back into the body, so does the propeller-shaft, and the blades fold back along the shaft." "have you really?" she gasped eagerly. "yes. best of all, i've got an absolute silencer on the exhaust; i've run the engine at top speed on the ground and found i could not hear it a hundred yards away. so far i have only made one or two flights, but they were quite successful. it seats two in little cockpits placed one on each side of the centre line where the propeller shaft runs. why shouldn't we try to fly her over tonight? i feel pretty sure we could do it at ten thousand feet without the direction-finders knowing anything about us." "excellent!" cried the girl. "the great disadvantage is that i can't get any speed to speak of on the ground. i have had to make everything very light, of course, and i fancy about twenty miles an hour, unless the roads were exceptionally good, would be our limit. we should have no chance of getting away if we were chased on the ground--or in the air, for that matter--if we were spotted. we might fly over to-night and chance getting caught. of course, i have my pilot's certificate, and if we were caught i could easily explain that i was making a night flight and my compass had gone wrong. it wouldn't be a very serious matter the first time as, of course, we should have nothing contraband. if we got over safely we could take the chance of coming back loaded." yvette had become suddenly radiant. "why, dick!" she cried, "that's the very thing. we simply can't be caught. and when we land anywhere we can be ordinary motorists. it's wonderful--wonderful!" "don't be too sure," replied dick grimly. "the air police are pretty wide awake. however, it's worth trying. now, shall we go to-night? there's a train from liverpool street at six-twenty. we shall get down to fenways by nine. we shall have five miles to walk to the shed where i keep the machine--of course, we daren't drive out--and we must manage to reach paris about dawn. if we are too early i cannot land in the dark, and if we are late people will be about and we shall run the risk of being spotted." yvette promptly produced a small but beautifully clear contour map. "there's your landing-place," she said, pointing to a large clearing surrounded by thick woods. "it's about fifteen miles from paris, and my own aeroplane is pushed in under the edge of the trees. it is quite a lonely spot in the forest a little to the north of triel. of late years the forest has been very much neglected and very few people go there. an old farmer, who lives quite alone, grazes a few sheep in the clearing, and i have, of course, had to arrange with him about my machine. he thinks i am an amateur flyer, and i have told him i am making some secret experiments and paid him to keep quiet. i flew the machine there myself when i bought it from the francois freres, of bordeaux. of course, i had my papers all in order when i bought it." "all right; that will do well enough," said dick. "we will go over to-night. jules can go by the boat train." a few hours later dick and yvette were standing in the shed beside the strange motor-car, dick rapidly explaining the system of converting the machine into a monoplane. "we must get off the ground as quickly as possible," he said. "people go to bed early in these parts, but there is always a chance of some one being about, and i don't want to be caught while we are making the change." at a suitable spot on the road, the change was made. it occupied dick, with yvette's skilful help, just twenty minutes. "we can do it in fifteen," he declared, "when you are thoroughly accustomed to it." as a matter of fact they did it in less on one memorable occasion some weeks later when their pursuers were hot on their heels. soon they were speeding swiftly southwards. dick had set the monoplane on a steep, upward slant, aiming to reach ten thousand feet before he drew abreast of london. thanks to the clinging mist, they were soon utterly out of sight from below, and dick had to steer by compass until they sighted thirty miles ahead, and slightly to their right, the great twin beams of light which marked the huge aerodrome at croydon. then dick veered to the south-east, flying straight for lympne and the french coast. after all, he argued, the bold course was the best. no one would expect an aeroplane on an illicit errand to venture right above the head-quarters of the air police, and should any machine be about on lawful business the noise of their engines would prevent the detectors picking up the throbbing whirr of the propeller, which, of course, could not be absolutely silenced. fortune favoured them. as they drew nearer to lympne, swinging in from the slightly easterly course he had set, dick caught sight of the navigation lights of the big mail aeroplane heading from london to paris. his own machine, bearing, of course, no lights, was far above the stranger, the thunder of whose big engines came clearly up to them. a couple of red flares from the big plane signalled her code to the aerodrome, the searchlight blinked an acknowledgment, and the mail plane tore swiftly onward. dick could not match its hurtling speed, but he followed along its track, confident that he would now be undetected. they swept silently above the brilliantly lighted aerodrome, then across the channel, and just as dawn was breaking detected the triel forest, and dropped lightly to earth almost alongside yvette's machine. by eight o'clock the machine, now a motor-car, was safely locked up in a disused stable in the montmartre quarter of paris, and dick, jules, and yvette were soon in deep consultation. that evening, just as dusk was falling, a half-drunken coachman sprawled lazily on a bench set against a wall in the deep courtyard of the "baton d'or," a quiet hotel located in aback street in the market quarter of paris. by his side was a bottle of _vin blanc_. before him, harnessed to a dilapidated carriage, stood his horse, a dejected-looking animal enough. directly over his head, at a window of a room on the third floor, two men stood talking. one of them was otto kranzler. two rooms away, on the same floor, a curious little drama was being enacted. lounging on a sofa near the door was dick manton. yvette, on a chair drawn near the window, faced him. yvette rang the bell, and the two were talking when a chambermaid appeared. "coffee and cognac for two," yvette ordered. a few minutes later the girl reappeared. she crossed the room with a tray and set it on the table in front of yvette. as the maid turned dick's arm was slipped round her, and a chloroformed pad was pressed swiftly over her face. taken utterly by surprise, the girl was too firmly held to do more than struggle convulsively, and in a few moments, as the drug took effect, she lay a limp heap in dick's arms. snatching from a valise a chambermaid's costume and cap, yvette swiftly transformed herself into a replica of the unconscious girl. then picking up the tray and its contents she silently left the room, having poured a few drops of colourless liquid into each of the glasses of brandy. kranzler was evidently in a bad temper. "i tell you," he said to his companion, "there _must_ be a way out. that infernal--" there was a knock at the door, and a chambermaid entered with coffee and liqueurs. it was yvette! "would the messieurs require anything further?" she asked as she set down the tray. "no, that's all for to-night," said kranzler in a surly tone, as he picked up the brandy and drained it with obvious relish. his companion followed suit. dick was sitting beside the unconscious girl as yvette re-entered the room. "she's quite all right," he said, as he watched her narrowly for signs of returning consciousness, "but i must give her a little more just as we are leaving. how did you get on?" "splendidly," said yvette; "they noticed nothing, and i saw them both drink the brandy as i left the room." ten minutes later yvette re-entered kranzler's room. the two men had collapsed into chairs. both were sleeping heavily. without losing a second yvette tore open kranzler's waistcoat and passed her hand rapidly over his body. a moment later she had slit open the unconscious man's shirt, and from a belt of webbing which ran round his shoulders cut away a flat leather pouch. from her pocket she took a reel of strong black thread. to one end of this she fastened the pouch, and, crouching by the open window, pushed the pouch over the sill and swiftly lowered it into the darkness. a moment later came a sort of tug at the line, the thread snapped, and yvette let the end fall. then, with a glance at her drugged victims, she snatched up the tray and returned with it to her own room. lying on the sofa, the chambermaid stirred uneasily. she was evidently recovering. while yvette swiftly discarded her disguise dick again pressed the chloroform to the girl's face. a few moments later "mr and mrs wilson, of london," were being escorted by the hotel porter to a waiting taxi-cab. they never returned. in the semi-darkness of the courtyard the drunken coachman had stiffened and leant back against the wall as a small, dark object lightly touched his shoulder. his arm, twisted behind him, felt for and found a slender thread. held against the wall behind him was the flat leather pouch which yvette had lowered. a moment later it was transferred to a capacious pocket, and the coachman, staggering uncertainly to his horse, mounted the carriage and drove noisily out of the yard. no one paid the slightest attention to him; no one realised that that uncouth exterior concealed the slim form of jules pasquet, his nerves quivering with excitement at the success of the gay triangle's first daring _coup_. an hour later the paris police took charge of an old horse found aimlessly dragging an empty carriage along one of the boulevards. about the same time, from a forest clearing fifteen miles away from paris, a tiny monoplane rose silently into the air and sped away in the direction of the french coast. kranzler left paris the following day and returned to germany. he was strictly searched at the frontier, of course without result, and the puzzled french police never solved the problem of how, as they thought, he had beaten them. he had not dared to complain. "mr and mrs wilson" were never even suspected, for by a strange coincidence some articles of jewellery were stolen from another room that same night, and when the drugged chambermaid told her story it was assumed that the wilsons were hotel thieves of the ordinary type. a month later the _petit parisien_ announced in black type with a flaring headline: "an anonymous gift of one million francs has been received by the french government, to be devoted to the relief of the devastated regions of france." chapter two. a race for a throne. paris, keenly sensitive to political vibrations which left less emotional centres relatively unmoved, was rippling with excitement. the death of the aged king john of galdavia had been followed by the sudden appearance of a second claimant to the stormy throne of the latter principality in the middle east, and the stormy petrels of politics, to whom international political complications are as the breath of life, had scented trouble from afar, and were flocking to the gay city. for the moment, however, the rest of the world seemed to take but little interest in the new problem. it was generally felt that the succession to the throne of galdavia was a matter for the galdavians alone, and only a few long-sighted individuals perceived the small cloud, "no bigger than a man's hand," which threatened to darken the entire political firmament. back in his quiet norfolk home, dick manton had dropped into a state of profound dejection. the adventure of the russian jewels, with its wild plunge into the thrills of the old life, had awakened an irrepressible desire for action and movement which had lain dormant while his shattered health was being slowly re-established. now, fully recovered, and in the perfection of physical condition, he could only contemplate with distaste and aversion continued existence in the humdrum surroundings of east anglia. but what was he to do? like thousands of others he felt that the ordered life of civilisation, with every daily action laid out according to plan, was for him impossible. his was essentially one of the restless spirits, stirred into life by the war, which craved action, difficulty, and even danger. moreover his growing affection for yvette troubled him. yvette had been delicately brought up. she was accustomed to luxury, and dick could only realise that his present prospects were such that, even if he were sure she cared for him, a marriage between them must entail such sacrifice on her part as he could not contemplate with equanimity. but, though dull, he had not been idle. the brilliant initial test of the new motor-plane, which he had fancifully christened "the mohawk" had stirred his ambition, and every moment he could snatch from business had been devoted to thinking out and applying improvements. some of these had been of real importance, and the machine had gained substantially in strength and lifting power, as well as in speed both on the ground and in the air. he was also making experiments in gliding. for some months he had heard little of yvette. a few brief notes had told him she was well. but that was all, and he felt a little hurt. he never dreamed that yvette's feelings were singularly like his own; that she, too, was the prey of emotions which sometimes alarmed her. they were, in fact, kept apart by dick's shyness and poverty, and by the french girl's profound pride and reserve. matters were in this stage when dick, to his great surprise, received a brief telegram from yvette. "can you come to paris? very urgent--yvette," the message ran. dick left at once and next evening found him with yvette and jules at a small hotel near the gare du nord. after a cordial greeting yvette, as usual, plunged direct into the business in hand. "now, dick," she said, "our last adventure was quite a success. are you good for something more exciting and decidedly more dangerous? or," she added mischievously, "is norfolk and the motor business exciting and dangerous enough for you?" dick laughed. "to tell the truth," he replied, smiling, "i'm about fed up with both of them. you can count me in on anything short of murder." "i hope it won't come to that," was yvette's rejoinder, "but i admit you may find your automatic pistol useful, perhaps indispensable. but let me explain. you english don't take much interest in foreign politics, and perhaps you haven't--in norfolk--paid much attention to galdavia." "i read that king john has died," dick rejoined, "but i didn't suppose it made much difference." "just as i expected!" said yvette, laughing. "well, it does; it makes quite a lot of difference as it happens. of course it ought not to. in the ordinary way milenko, the son of king john, should succeed peacefully enough. but he has done some foolish things, and he is not too popular. there is a strong party in galdavia which professes to object to the manner in which john was called to the throne. you know, of course, how it happened; he was summoned after his predecessor, king boris, was killed by a bomb. legally, of course, milenko's claim is unchallengeable. but legality doesn't count for too much in galdavian politics, and a second claimant to the throne has appeared in the person of prince michael ostrovitch, whose title lies in the fact that he is descended from a brother of boris's grandfather. he was only a boy when john was chosen, and in any case he would have had no possible chance of election, for galdavian opinion then was overwhelmingly in favour of john. but there has been a change. the change would not be enough to cause uneasiness, but for the appearance of another and very sinister influence," and she paused. "we are convinced that germany, for very obvious motives, is backing prince ostrovitch," she went on. "the scheme is being very skilfully worked, and so far we have failed entirely to secure positive proof. if we could do so the plot would be at an end, for france and great britain, and perhaps even america would intervene at once. they would never allow a german puppet to ascend the throne of galdavia. but they would not interfere with a _fait accompli_, especially if ostrovitch's election were so stage-managed as to give it the appearance of a popular movement." "i quite see the point," manton said, much interested. "now we have found out this much," she went on. "jules and i have been working at the case for some weeks, and we have both been to langengrad, the capital. the secret is there. bausch and horst,"--she named two well-known agents of the german foreign office--"are both there, disguised and under assumed names. we believe that a formal agreement is being prepared between the ostrovitch party and germany. now, neither the germans nor the ostrovitch party fully trust one another, and each will seek to safeguard itself by documents which in the event of treachery by either side would mean certain ruin. i am convinced that such a document either exists or is being drawn up, and we must get hold of it if the peace of europe is to be kept. now," she added slowly, "i want you to come with me to langengrad and get it!" dick sat silent for a moment. "i want to ask one or two questions," he said at length. "do you mind telling me how you come to be in this?" "i expected that, of course," replied yvette. "the answer is simple enough. i have been working for a long time for the french secret service." "and why do you want me?" dick queried. yvette coloured. "i didn't expect that, dick," she answered slowly. "i want you first because i know you thoroughly, and secondly because i must have the mohawk. if you decide to go we shall go in the mohawk as motorists touring for pleasure. but if we succeed we shall certainly have to leave langengrad in a desperate hurry, and we should certainly find all the roads blocked. what chance do you think a motor-car, to say nothing of such a conspicuous oddity as the mohawk, would have of getting all through austria-hungary and germany, even if it got over the galdavian frontier, when so many people in galdavia, austria, and germany would have the liveliest interest in stopping it? no, we must fly out of galdavia. we cannot fly in, because our passports must be in order--but we shall have to fly out." dick smiled, but made no comment. "but remember this," the girl said, "if we arouse the slightest suspicion it is a hundred to one we shall never return. the french foreign office cannot appear in the matter under any circumstances. if we succeed, it means a big reward; if we fall into ostrovitch's hands--!" and a shrug of yvette's shapely shoulders ended the sentence. "very well, yvette," exclaimed manton. "i'll go with you. there's no one to worry about me, anyhow, and i'm fed up with norfolk. when do we start?" "the sooner the better. is the mohawk ready?" "yes," replied dick. "i can start half an hour after i get back." "then you had better go over by the air express to-morrow morning," replied yvette, "and fly back to-morrow night. i will meet you at the old place ready to start. you can leave all papers to me." then jules took up the story and for a couple of hours dick listened carefully to the details of the organisation which jules and yvette had set up in langengrad, and he marvelled greatly at the extent and thoroughness of the work which had been done in so short a time. a few days later dick and yvette, under the names of monsieur and mademoiselle victor, sister and brother, crossed the german frontier in the mohawk in the guise of tourists motoring through germany and austria-hungary to galdavia. their passports, prepared by the french secret service and bearing all the necessary _visas_, got them through without the smallest difficulty. speaking french really well, dick had no doubt that, outside france at any rate, he could safely pass for a young french officer. jules had remained behind to carry out his share of the campaign. dick drove steadily via stuttgart and munich to salzburg, where he loaded up the mohawk with all the petrol she could carry for the last stage of the journey. from salzburg he proposed to fly across the mountains to klagenfurt, where he hoped to pick up the line of the drave river and follow it to its confluence with the danube. from there a brief trip by road would bring them to the borders of galdavia. it was a lovely autumn evening when the queer-looking motor-car left the "bristol hotel" at salzburg and slid along the road to radstadt, the "winter sport" resort. very soon a sufficiently lonely spot was reached and from a smooth patch of moorland turf the mohawk rose into the air just as the full moon was rising above the great mountains. the engine was working splendidly and the mohawk climbing swiftly into the keen air travelled steadily until, just before midnight, dick and yvette sighted simultaneously the lake at klagenfurt and the silvery line of the drave stretching away to the eastward. with nearly three hundred miles to fly dick set the mohawk on a course parallel to the drave and slightly to the south of it, and for hour after hour they flew on through the brilliant night. five thousand feet up, they had no fear of detection and gave themselves up to enjoy the beauty of the glorious panorama unfolded below them. in less than five hours the danube was sighted and crossed, and just as dawn was breaking, the mohawk came to earth a few miles from the little town of neusatz. quickly the aeroplane was metamorphosed into a motor-car and the "tourists" ran into neusatz, the little danube town, for breakfast and rest. a few hours later they were across the borders of galdavia and heading for langengrad, the old capital surmounted by a frowning fortress built by the turks in the middle ages. twenty-five miles from the city they halted at a wayside inn. "this is where we shall meet fedor," yvette explained. it was not until after they had had dinner, a homely meal in the true galdavian fashion, and it grew dark, that they heard from the roadway three sharp blasts on a motor-horn. "there he is!" exclaimed the shrewd athletic girl. "get the car out, dick!" the latter hurried to the shed at the rear which served as a garage and when, a few moments later, he drove the mohawk into the white dusty roadway he found a big touring car drawn up and yvette talking to a tall, dark-eyed young fellow whom she introduced to dick as "count fedor ruffo." dick gazed at him with quick interest, for he had heard much of a wonderful invention of the count which was expected to play an important part in their quest. fedor was a young fellow of quiet demeanour, with the long nervous hands of an artist, a delicately cultured voice and soft dreamy eyes. dick took him for an austrian, which he afterwards found to be correct. he had taken a high degree in science at vienna and had settled in langengrad as a teacher at the university there. "follow the count's car as closely as possible, dick," said yvette. "we want to slip into langengrad unnoticed, if possible. the fewer people who see the mohawk the better." the count's car moved away almost noiselessly into the darkness. several times fedor stopped and listened intently, and once they waited an hour at a point where two roads crossed. nothing happened, however, and about one o'clock in the morning they reached the outskirts of langengrad. here the count left the main road and slipped into a series of crooked by-streets lit only by the light of the moon. finally, he turned into the courtyard of an old-fashioned house standing in its own grounds and the mohawk was speedily backed into a large empty shed, and the door locked. "now, mr manton," said the count in fair english, "will you drive miss pasquet in my car to the continental and register there? she knows the way. rooms have been taken for you. you had better use my car while you are here. in the meantime if we meet in public remember we are strangers. foreigners here are pretty closely watched." the hotel continental at langengrad is one of those cosmopolitan caravanserais dear to the heart of the tourist. as usual it was crowded, and even at two o'clock in the morning the cafe was humming with activity. consequently dick and yvette arrived almost unnoticed. explaining that they had been delayed by a motor breakdown they were soon in their rooms and were sound asleep. next morning yvette took dick out into the gay pleasant city of boulevards and handsome buildings. he was immensely interested in the brilliant scene, but he realised they were on a desperate mission and took care to fix firmly in his mind the roads they would have to use. it was necessary, of course, to keep up the appearance of being mere gaping sightseers and they went from shop to shop buying a quantity of souvenirs which neither desired in the smallest degree, and arranging for them to be delivered to their hotel. in the balkanskaya, one of the principal streets, yvette paused at last before a jewellers' window which blazed with gems. a moment later, followed by dick, she slipped into a narrow passage at the side of the shop and turning into a doorway began to mount a flight of stairs which seemingly led to suites of offices in the upper part of the building. on the third floor she halted before a dingy door, and knocked softly. instantly the door was opened by fedor who, inviting them within, shut the door and locked it. "well, fedor, what luck?" yvette asked. "the best," was the reply. "we have been able to find out exactly the people with whom bausch and horst are associating, and where their meetings are being held. you have arrived in the very nick of time. i fancy--indeed, i am almost sure--the agreement will be signed either to-night or to-morrow night. i have overheard most of their talk." "but how have you managed that?" dick asked eagerly. "miss pasquet's telephone, of course," said fedor. "didn't she tell you about it?" yvette blushed and laughed. "you didn't know i was an electrician, did you, dick?" she said. "well, you will soon see my little invention at work. but it is nothing to compare with fedor's." the good-looking count talked earnestly for half an hour, acquainting them fully with the work of yvette's agents in the galdavian capital, until dick became amazed at the perfection of the organisation which the alert young french girl had so swiftly created. "ostrovitch's party," fedor concluded, "usually meet at the house of general mestich, who, as you know, is the commander of the headquarter troops in langengrad. he is a wonderfully able man, but is a confirmed gambler and _bon viveur_, and is head over ears in debt. he plays at the jockey club each night. there can be no doubt whatever that he has been bought by germany. his house in the dalmatinska for a long time has been notorious for its rowdy parties, and as a result it is quite easy for the conspirators to meet there without attracting undue attention. i am certain the government does not realise how far things have gone yet. there is not a scrap of direct evidence. mestich is personally very popular, and would in any ordinary matter carry with him a big volume of public opinion. but he dare not, as yet, venture on any direct revolutionary action. his hope is to give his plot some semblance of a popular movement, and he is gradually winning important adherents. if he is given enough time i think he will succeed. but without bausch and horst--that is without germany--the plot must go to pieces. they are finding the money, which is being spent like water." "this is certainly interesting," dick exclaimed. "what are your intentions?" "well, immediately opposite mestich's house is an old building which for many years has been used as a store. it belongs to a loyalist friend of ours, and i can use it as i like. from one of the upper windows it is possible to see right into mestich's little _salon_, where the meetings are held. we will meet there to-night. you must come separately to the alley at the back; we dare not enter by the front. there is a small doorway there, half overgrown by clematis and apparently never used. i will be inside waiting to open the door when you knock." for the rest of the day dick and yvette were careful to behave as ordinary tourists "doing the sights" of langengrad, the rathaus, the museum, and the opera house, and still buying piles of useless souvenirs. but they were soon to realise that a careful watch was kept on all strangers in langengrad. just as they were finishing dinner that night they were approached by an officious little black-moustached man who sent a waiter to call them aside. when they were in a small smoking-room he made a courteous request for their papers. these were, of course, in order, and dick had no misgivings on the point. but for some reason the shrewd, sallow-faced official seemed suspicious, and dick noticed with anxiety that he spoke faultless french. would his own, he wondered, pass muster? "monsieur speaks french like an englishman," the police officer suddenly rapped out. luckily dick was prepared. "yes," he answered readily, "i was brought up in england. i was at school at rugby. my friends in our french air force nicknamed me `the englishman.'" the officer, it appeared, had also been an airman and proceeded to talk interestingly on the subject of aero engines. he was perfectly courteous, but none the less dick had an uncomfortable suspicion that he was beneath a human microscope. fortunately the subject was on one which he could not possibly be "stumped" and try as he would the police official found he had met his match. dick was intensely interested and amused by his skill and courtesy. none the less the position was most dangerous. he realised fully that-- as was indeed the fact--the officer might be one of mestich's lieutenants, and unless he could be satisfied their chances of getting away from langengrad were trifling. at length he seemed satisfied that dick was really what he pretended to be, and finally left them with a courteous farewell, having accepted a glass of slivovitza--or plum gin--the liqueur of the galdavians--and chatted for a time on ordinary topics. "that man is dangerous, dick," whispered yvette when he had gone. "we shall have to be most careful. i wish i knew how much he knows, or suspects." they were soon to learn how acute this visitor really was! shortly after, dick, smoking an exquisite cigarette such as can only be bought in langengrad, a dark coat thrown over his evening dress, left the hotel quite openly, but keenly on the alert. he suspected he might be followed, a premonition that was to prove useful. he strolled idly through the broad kossowska agog with evening life, gradually working his way towards the rendezvous, and keeping a sharp look out. soon he picked out the figure of a man who always seemed to be about fifty yards behind him. a few turns through side streets confirmed his suspicions; clearly, he was being "shadowed!" dick manton's brain always worked rapidly in a crisis. obviously the man must be got rid of. so he speedily formed a plan. strolling down the alley behind the old storehouse, dick marked the exact locality of the clematis-grown doorway, passed it and then turned, so timing his movement that he and his pursuer met exactly outside the door. it was the agent of political police who had interrogated him after dinner! further pretence was useless, and dick came straight to the point. "to what am i indebted for monsieur's very polite attentions?" he demanded bluntly. the stranger shrugged his shoulders insolently. "langengrad at night is not too healthy for foreigners," he replied with an obvious sneer, "and of course we feel responsible for--" he got no further. dick's clenched fist jerked upward with every ounce of his strength and skill behind it. taken utterly by surprise the police agent was caught squarely on the point of the jaw and went down like a log. dick tapped at the door, which was instantly opened by fedor, and together they dragged the unconscious officer inside. a moment later he was securely bound, gagged and blindfolded. dick was now thoroughly alarmed about yvette. would she be followed, and if so, could she win clear? here fortune favoured them. apparently the police official, whatever his suspicions were, had meant to make sure of dick, knowing that yvette alone could not escape him. a few minutes later they heard her knock, and soon all three were in the house. "safe enough now," said fedor laconically as he led the way through piles of stored goods to an upper room at the top of the building. the room was faintly illuminated by a gleam of moonlight which came through a skylight in the roof, and when a small lamp was turned on dick looked around him with keen interest. filthily dirty, and apparently unused for years, the room was crammed with a heterogeneous mass of canvas packages and wooden boxes. the only window was covered with shutters through which circular holes had been bored to admit light, but these were covered over with flaps of felt. the dust of years lay thick everywhere. dick's attention was instantly centred on a large, square table in the middle of the room. upon the table stood what appeared to be a big camera, its lens pointing to the window, with a screen of ground glass at the back of the camera exposed. a few feet behind, on a tripod, stood a small cinema apparatus with the lens aperture directed at the ground glass plate of the camera. to each ran electric wires from a bracket on the wall of the room. the whole of the electrical apparatus was weird and complicated. there were also on the table two head telephones connected by wires to the horn of what looked like a large phonograph. "now, mr manton," said fedor in a low, intense voice, "i will show you my new apparatus. mademoiselle pasquet knows about it." dick was breathless with excitement. yvette's story of fedor's wonderful invention had filled him with keenest curiosity. "if you will look through one of the holes in this shutter," fedor went on, "you will see, directly opposite, the window of mestich's dining-room. the curtains are drawn, but you will see the room is lighted inside. he and his friends have been there for some time; apparently they have been awaiting horst." dick looked through the hole and saw the lighted window. "now, come and look at the screen," urged the count. as he spoke he touched an electric switch. immediately a soft purring noise came from the camera and on the screen there showed a vivid well-focused picture of a room with about a dozen men seated round a long table. the interior of the closed room was revealed by the new invention. at the head of the table, facing the camera, sat a big, soldierly man whom dick at once recognised, from his published photographs, as general mestich. fedor rapidly named the others--bausch, horst, colonel federvany, leader of the parliamentary opposition, several officials of the galdavian government and war office, and two or three jew financiers, one of whom named mendelssohn dick knew to be of international reputation. the marvellous picture was framed in a solid black outline. it gave a curious effect, just as though one were looking from the darkness into a fiercely lighted cave. dick was almost stupefied with astonishment. "do you mean to say that that is the room in the house on the opposite side of the road?" he asked. "certainly i do," said fedor with a grim smile. "but how is it done?" demanded dick, aghast. "the shutters are closed here and the curtains drawn on the other side." "it's a new electric ray i stumbled upon quite by accident," fedor explained. "i was experimenting, and found it. it passes quite readily through wood, fibre and fabric, in fact through almost anything except stone, mica, and metal. that is why you see only part of the room; the walls cut off everything except the space directly behind the window. if the table were in the corner of the room they would be safe enough-- if they only knew!" "marvellous!" dick ejaculated. "this new ray is projected from these two rods of silenium," the count went on, "and for some reason which i cannot explain it follows the direction of the longitudinal axis of the metal. thus any object at which the rods are pointed is rendered luminous by the ray on the screen, which is coated with the barium sulphate used in x-ray work. it can be photographed by the cinema and we shall have evidence enough to hang the lot." then he paused for a few seconds. "now we must begin," he said suddenly. "they are just about to start. hold the telephone receivers to your ear. mademoiselle will look after the cinema." picking up the receiver, dick heard a voice speaking clearly and earnestly. it was evidently that of general mestich, who, as he saw by the screen, was on his feet and speaking. the language, of course, he did not understand, but fedor, who was also listening, became excited and snapped on a switch which started the phonograph. in the meantime yvette was turning the handle of the cinema camera. "here it comes," fedor ejaculated a moment later, and dick saw general mestich take from his pocket a big blue document which he unfolded and spread on the table before him. bausch at the same time produced a similar paper. then bausch got to his feet and also spoke briefly. immediately after the documents were passed round and signed by all present. the treaty was made! but every action of the plotters had been caught by the eye of the camera, and every word they uttered was recorded by the phonograph! the evidence was complete! "now, manton," said fedor, "we have all we want except mestich's copy of the treaty which will be signed by the german secretary of state, as well as bausch and horst. to get that and get away is your work. i have to stay in langengrad and i dare not risk being seen and identified. you understand?" "of course," answered dick. "you have done wonders--absolute wonders! but just tell me how this telephone works." "that is mademoiselle pasquet's invention," replied fedor. "it is really a secret change-over switch which projects an electric ray which sets the general's transmitter working even when the receiver is on the hook and the instrument would in the ordinary way be `dead.' it can be put in in three minutes; as a matter of fact i slipped it in one day when i called to see the general and was kept waiting. the main wire from the general's 'phone to the exchange passes over the house and it was easy enough to `tap' it with a fine wire that can be pulled away so as to leave no cause for suspicion. i shall do that now; we shall not want it again." soon after, the party opposite began to break up and finally, on the screen, they saw the general standing alone, the treaty in his hand, and a look of triumph and elation on his handsome face. it was the picture of a man who had very nearly reached the summit of his ambitions. a moment later he crossed to the big, high stove, lifted a heavy picture, and slid aside a small door in the panelling of the wall. this disclosed a recess in which the treaty was deposited, the slide was closed, and the picture replaced. "clever," said dick, "but easy now we know. i thought he would put it in a safe. but how are we going to get it?" yvette, who had been silent, interposed. "i think the general's house might unexpectedly catch fire," she said quietly. "that will give dick a chance to make a dash for the treaty in the confusion." "i don't see any better plan," fedor agreed. "it can easily be managed. i have plenty of petrol here, and there is a small leaded window on the ground floor that can be pushed in without making too much noise." "excellent!" exclaimed dick. "i'll manage that. i'll see there's plenty of confusion." "very well, that is settled," answered fedor. "now i will take mademoiselle to your car and have everything ready for you to start. it will be touch and go. here is the phonograph record, with the cinema film rolled up inside it. take care of them; they are priceless. the film must be developed in paris." then fedor produced a can of petrol and thoroughly soaked the room. "this place is going up to-night," he explained. "that police agent will know all about it and it will be searched at once. i can't get my camera away and i don't want it found." as he spoke fedor was laying a long strip of fuse from the room to the ground floor. striking a match he lit the end. "in half an hour the place will be a furnace," he said coolly. what to do with the police agent was a problem. "i can't kill the fellow in cold blood," remarked fedor, "and i can't leave him here to be burnt alive." finally they dragged the man outside and left him lying in the darkest corner of the alley they could find. "some one will find him when the fire starts," was fedor's conclusion. but some one found him much earlier, and their clemency nearly cost them their lives! yvette and fedor started for the mohawk and dick walked swiftly over to the general's house. it was very late and not a soul was stirring in the now deserted streets. without difficulty dick found the leaded window and scarcely troubling about the slight noise he made, forced it partly in, poured in a liberal supply of petrol and flung after it a lighted match. instantly there was a most satisfactory sheet of flame. a moment later dick was hammering at the front door, shouting at the top of his voice. he aimed at making all the confusion he could. instantly the street was in an uproar. people poured half-dressed from the houses, and from general mestich's residence came a stream of frightened domestics, screaming in terror and half-choked with smoke. slipping unnoticed into the house, dick made straight for the _salon_. as he entered, general mestich was in the very act of withdrawing the treaty from the secret receptacle. he turned towards dick and their eyes met. traitor though he was, the galdavian general was a cool and brave man. his hand dropped to his pocket and a revolver flashed out. but he was just a fraction of a second too late. dick's hand was ready on his automatic, and as the general's revolver came out dick fired from his pocket and the leader of the galdavian revolution fell dead with a bullet through his heart. a moment later dick, the precious treaty in his pocket, had joined the shouting throng in the crowded street. as he did so, a burst of flame from the old storehouse announced the success of fedor's plan and added to the general confusion. dick worked himself clear of the crowd and dashed off at top speed for the mohawk. yvette was already seated at the wheel, with the engine started ready for instant departure. as dick sprang into his seat fedor laid beside him a loaded rifle. "ten shots, explosive bullets," he said coolly. "it may be useful if you are followed." then hastily they shook hands and the mohawk leaped forward for the hill road and safety. the moon was unfortunately very bright, and it was not until they had gone five or six miles that dick ventured to draw a breath of relief. "we ought to be safe now," he said. "we must find a place to fly from." the words were hardly out of his mouth when the roar of a big car behind them caught his ears. they had forgotten the bound and blindfolded police agent. that very astute individual had been found and released by a passer-by a few minutes after they had left the warehouse! frantic with rage and determined to catch dick at all costs, he had acted with wonderful promptness. his first step was to send out cars loaded with armed policemen to block all three roads leading from langengrad so that dick's motor should not get away. had he been found a few moments earlier dick and yvette must have been hopelessly trapped. but the delay of a few minutes had given them a priceless advantage. looking back as the big car came swiftly on, dick caught the gleam of rifle barrels in the moonlight. his plan was swiftly made. at the top of a steep slope, where the road made a sharp curve and dipped into a small depression, dick bade yvette halt. blessing fedor's foresight, he took the rifle from the car and in the shadow flung himself down on the grass bordering the road. for five hundred yards below him the road stretched in a smooth unbroken descent. as the pursuing car came into sight dick took careful aim and fired, aiming not at the men, but at the engine of the car. his first shot was low, and he saw a burst of flame as the explosive bullet struck the road a few yards short of the car. his second shot got home. the big car lurched, slewed round, and dashing into the side of the road, toppled over. evidently the explosive bullet had wrecked the steering gear. he leapt into the car again, but the danger was not over. checked by the steep rise the big car was only going slowly, and the men inside had evidently escaped unhurt. and they were clearly well led, for a dozen of them dashed into the road and a volley of shots rattled round dick as he dashed for the mohawk. for the moment, racing down the hill, they were safe. but dick saw, with inward trepidation, that a little farther on the road rose again and they would be a clear mark for their pursuers in the bright moonlight. his fears were justified. again a volley of shots rang out and bullets pattered round them. one smashed the wind screen, a second went through yvette's hat. but they were untouched, and raced on. a moment more and they would be safe. then another volley rang out and dick felt a stinging pain in his left shoulder. he had been hit by one of the last shots fired! they were now out of range and yvette sent the mohawk along as fast as she dared until, a few miles farther, she left the high road and drove across the smooth upland turf to the shelter of a small wood where they could convert the car into the aeroplane. despite the danger of delay yvette insisted on binding up dick's shoulder. luckily no bone had been touched, but he had lost a lot of blood. by a tremendous effort of will he managed to help yvette until the aeroplane was ready, and then climbing into his seat collapsed in a dead faint. when he came to his senses again it was daylight and the mohawk was flying steadily high above a carpet of white mist which hid the ground. yvette, crouched over the duplicate control lever, nodded and smiled. "better now?" she called. "a bit rocky," laughed dick. "where are we?" "we ought to be about over scutari according to speed and compass bearings," was yvette's reply, "but the mist has been baffling me. still, i don't think we are far out." "how long have we been flying?" asked dick. "about two hours," yvette responded, "and we have been doing about seventy. that should bring us very near the coast." after a stiff dose of brandy and a mouthful of food dick felt better. a few moments later he pointed downwards. "lake scutari!" he remarked, as he recognised the long narrow sheet of water at the head of which the ramshackle half-turkish town stands. the mist was already breaking as, at ten thousand feet elevation, they swept out over the adriatic and headed for the italian coast. then yvette began a rapid call on the wireless set with which the mohawk was fitted and placed the head-telephones over her ears. "got him! he's there all right!" she exclaimed triumphantly a few minutes later. "he answers `o.k.'" it was jules, who for three days had been cruising off cape gallo in a motor-launch, ready to dash to their rescue if anything went wrong as they crossed the adriatic, and who was now heading in their direction as fast as his engines would drive him. suddenly yvette uttered an exclamation of alarm. "dick," she said, "our petrol is giving out. there is none left in the number four tank and five and six will only carry us about seventy miles." evidently the bullets of their pursuers had pierced the tank which was now empty and the precious spirit had drained away unnoticed. the situation was now serious indeed. could they get to jules in time? a wireless message bade him hasten. "ten miles more, dick," said yvette at last, "and then i can make three miles and the glide as we come down. it's lucky we are so high; we ought to do it." then seven or eight miles away a column of vapour rose from the water ahead. jules had fired a smoke bomb to guide them! their petrol was almost gone. but as the engine flickered out and stopped yvette, with a cry of joy, pointed to a tiny dot on the sea which they knew was jules rushing to their help. a rocket shot up from the launch. "he sees us!" said dick, as yvette set the mohawk on a flat downward slant. two minutes later they struck the water with a mighty splash just as the motor-launch tore up, flinging a cloud of spray into the air as she rushed to their rescue. they were safe and they had saved a throne! but the gallant mohawk sank to the bottom of the adriatic. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ there was no revolution in galdavia. with the damning evidence of the film and the phonograph record the allies acted promptly, and with the traitor mestich dead the plot went to pieces. king milenko rules to-day over a contented, happy and prosperous people, and his early follies laid aside has become a capable and popular ruler. fedor they never saw again; he was killed in a motor smash a week after they left, and the secret of his wonderful invention died with him. chapter three. the seven dots. in a cosy little house at veneux nadon, near moret-sur-loing, in the great forest of fontainebleau, dick, yvette, and jules were seated in earnest conversation. they made a remarkable trio. dick was unmistakably english, yvette and her brother as unmistakably french--the girl dark-haired and dark-eyed, and with all the grace and vivacity which distinguish frenchwomen of the better class. her brother, quiet and dreamy, lacked his sister's vivacity, but there was a suggestion of strength and iron resolution in the firm mouth and steely eyes. "it will be terribly dangerous, dick," said yvette, with an altogether new note of anxiety in her voice. "i suppose it will," replied dick, "but,"--and his voice hardened as he spoke--"i don't see what else we can do. we cannot run the risk of seeing a perfected helicopter in german hands. it would be too fearful a weapon. we must get hold of the plans and destroy the machine, whatever the risk may be." strange stories had come through the french secret service of a new and wonderful type of aircraft which was being tested with the utmost secrecy somewhere in the neighbourhood of spandau, the great military town near berlin. of its precise character little was known or could be ascertained, and even regnier, the astute and energetic head of the french secret service, had at length to confess himself utterly beaten. his cleverest agents had been baffled; more than one was in a german prison, with little hope of an early release. in the meantime the mysterious machine flitted about the neighbourhood of the great garrison, always at night, appearing and disappearing under circumstances which proved conclusively that it must be of a type which differed widely from any yet known to the public. "we must go, dick," said yvette, "and regnier is extremely anxious that you should help us. his trouble is that while he has dozens of capable men at his command none of them has a really expert knowledge of aviation. he thinks that if you once got a good look at the machine you could form a complete idea of what it really is." "very well," said dick, "we will look upon it as settled. we must work out a plan." for many months dick manton had been working steadily and secretly at veneux nadon under the auspices, though not actually in the employ, of the french secret service. he had offered the plans of the mohawk to the british war office, only to be met with a reception so chilly as effectually to discourage him from proceeding further in the matter. regnier, however, was a man of a different stamp from the british bureaucrat--keen as mustard and with the saving touch of imagination which is characteristic of the best type of frenchman. he had unbounded faith in yvette, who had for some time been one of his most trusted lieutenants, and when, angry at the attitude of the british war office, she had given him a hint of what the mohawk could really do, he had offered dick the fullest facilities for continuing his work. under the circumstances dick had felt that to refuse would have been absurd. veneux nadon was a lonely little spot. here dick, though only thirty miles from paris, found himself in complete seclusion, with a well-equipped workshop in large grounds completely buried in the lovely forest, and thoroughly screened from prying eyes. regnier had put the matter to him quite plainly. "you are an englishman, monsieur manton," he had said, "and i will not ask you to sell your secret to france. but we are willing to bear the expense of perfecting your invention on the distinct understanding that when the time comes england shall have the option of sharing in it to the exclusion of all other countries except france. when you are ready we will officially invite the british government to send a representative and will give them the opinion of coming in on equal terms. i do not think we can do more or less." so it was settled, and for many months dick and jules had toiled on the building of a new mohawk whose performances far surpassed those of the machine lost in the adriatic. it was now completed and its preliminary tests had satisfied them that they had forged a weapon of tremendous potency. the machine was of the helicopter type. the idea, of course, was not new, but dick had solved a problem which for many years had baffled inventors whose dream it was to construct a machine which should have the power of rising vertically from the ground and remaining stationary in the air. driven upward by powerful propellers placed horizontally underneath the body, the mohawk was capable of rising from the ground at a tremendous speed. once in the air the lifting propellers were shut off and the machine moved forward under the impulse of the driving screws placed in the front and rear. these screws were the secret of dick manton's triumph. they were of a new design, giving a tremendous ratio of efficiency. in size they wore relatively tiny, but possessed far greater power than any propeller known. the machine itself was nearly square. the body was completely covered by the big, single plane, measuring about twenty feet each way. this was the outside size of the machine and so perfectly was the helicopter controlled that dick had repeatedly brought it to earth in a marked space not more than thirty-two feet square. fitted with the new silencer which dick had discovered and applied to the old mohawk with such signal success, the engine was practically noiseless. at high speed the tiny propellers emitted only a thin, wailing note, barely audible a few yards away. time and again dick had sailed on dark nights only a few feet above the house roofs of paris and had found that the noise of the ordinary traffic was amply sufficient to prevent his presence being discovered. to ensure absolute secrecy the various parts of the machine had been made in widely separated districts of france, and had been brought from paris to veneux nadon, where dick and jules had carried out the erection of the machine alone. the very existence of the new aeroplane was utterly unsuspected by the few villagers who lived in the neighbourhood. keenly interested in his work dick had thoroughly enjoyed the peaceful life in the depths of the beautiful forest. he and jules had become the closest of friends, and with yvette, whose winning personality seemed to bind him to her more closely day by day, they made up a happy house party. they were looked after by a capable old peasant woman who was the devoted slave of all three, but whose admiration for yvette seemed to rise almost to the point of veneration. on the day following the conversation recorded above, they were surprised to receive a visit from regnier himself--an alert, dark-eyed man who seemed seriously perturbed. "there is no time to be lost," he declared. "i hear to-day from gaston that he has managed to get a near view of the new german machine. he says it rose apparently from the flat roof of a house standing in its own grounds outside spandau. he happened to be near and caught sight of it just in time. of course it was dark and he could see no details. but he is positive that the machine rose nearly straight up from the flat roof at an angle far too steep for any of our machines. that alone is sufficient to show that the germans have got hold of something new and valuable. he waited for a long time, and finally saw the machine return. he declares it landed again on the roof. evidently, monsieur manton, they have found out something along the lines of your invention, even if they have not actually got your secret." "how far away was gaston when he saw it?" asked dick. "it must have been at least a quarter of a mile," replied regnier, "as the grounds are very extensive. gaston dared not venture an attempt to get inside; the high fence is utterly unscalable, and the two lodge gates are always kept locked and there is a keeper at each." "and he heard the engine?" "yes, he says so specifically," replied the chief. "well," said dick, "at any rate we are ahead of them to that extent. if it had been my machine he would not have heard the engine at all at that distance." "however," he went on, "it is evidently time we acted. now, monsieur regnier, mademoiselle pasquet has told me what you want. i am willing to go. but i shall have to take the mohawk. how are we to hide it? i can get over and back at night safely enough, but to hide the machine in the day-time will be another matter." "gaston can arrange that," the chief declared. "you know he has a farm a short distance outside, spandau. there is a big barn there with no sides, and your machine can be easily dragged into it and concealed during the day. you know gaston is passing as a german farmer. he has acted for years for us in this way and has never even been suspected. but you could not stay long." "very good," said dick. "i think the best plan will be for jules to go by motor and for mademoiselle to go separately by train. they must find out somehow exactly where the german plane is lodged and, if possible, where the plans are likely to be kept, and i must act accordingly. in any case, there will be no difficulty in smashing up the machine, but unless we destroy the plans as well they will be building another too soon to suit us. i will go to verdun and wait there with the mohawk until the time comes for me to fly over." jules and yvette left the next day. jules' car was quite an ordinary one, but it had one important detail added. in the hollow flooring was cunningly concealed a small but powerful wireless telegraph set, the power for which was supplied by the engine. it was highly efficient, but had one serious drawback; it could only be used while the car was at rest owing to the necessity for running an aerial wire up some tall structure, such as a building or a tree. this, in a country where every one was specially suspicious of spies, was a serious peril. three days later seven mysterious dots began to excite the ungovernable curiosity of the wireless world! jules and yvette, on arrival in berlin, had taken rooms adjoining one another at the "adlon," the big cosmopolitan hotel which is always crowded with visitors from every country under the sun. yvette posed as a school teacher on an educational tour, but her position was one of great danger. it was impossible to disguise her face, and although she had done what she could to destroy her french individuality by wearing peculiarly hideous german clothes, there was the ever-present danger that she would be seen and recognised by some of the many german agents who during the war had learnt to know her features, and who had good reason to remember her daring exploits in alsace. at the same time, in order to have a possible retreat in a humbler neighbourhood, yvette had hired a room in one of the mean quarters of the town, putting in a few miserable sticks of furniture and giving out that she was a sempstress employed at one of the big shops. she and jules had decided never to speak in public. it was essential, however, that they should be able to communicate freely, and through the wall between their rooms jules had bored with a tiny drill a hole through which he had passed a wire of a small pocket telephone. they could thus talk with ease and with the doors of their rooms locked they were absolutely safe from detection so long as they spoke in a whisper. it was on a dark night, the sky obscured by heavy masses of clouds, that dick rose in the mohawk from the forest of fontainebleau and headed for verdun. a couple of hours' flying brought him over the fortress and he descended in a clearing in a dense wood where he was welcomed by captain le couteur, the chief engineer of the military wireless station. covered with big tarpaulins, the mohawk was left under the guard of a dozen zouaves, and dick and captain le couteur motored to the citadel. here the captain took dick directly into the steel-walled chamber deep under the fortifications which was the brain of the defences of verdun. it was the nucleus of the entire system of telegraph and telephone wires which, in time of war, would keep the commander of the troops in the district fully informed of everything that was happening in every sector of the defences. the innermost room of all, where none but the captain himself had access, contained the secret codes which dozens of foreign agents would have willingly risked their lives to possess. their efforts--and they knew it--would have been in vain, for the chamber was guarded day and night by a band of picked men whose fidelity to france was utterly beyond the possibility of suspicion. "your messages have already started--the seven dots at intervals of seven seconds," said captain le couteur when they were comfortably seated in the innermost room. "i got half a dozen test calls last night and everything seems to be working well. i expect they are arousing some interest, for operators all over europe will be mystified. there will be another call about nine o'clock and in the meantime you had better get some sleep. i will call you if anything happens." dick stretched himself on a couch and slept peacefully. nine o'clock found him with captain le couteur seated in the innermost room at a table covered with delicate wireless apparatus. turning a switch, the captain lit up the row of little valves, put the receiving set in operation, and assuming one headpiece himself, handed another to dick. he placed his hand upon one of the ebonite knobs of the complicated apparatus and slowly turned it. then he turned a second condenser very carefully. "we are on the ordinary six-hundred-metre wave-length now," the captain explained, "and shall remain so until we get our seven dots. i am bound to keep the machine so or i should miss other messages i ought to hear. but we will change as soon as we get your signal." presently they came, sharp and clear, dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot. immediately captain le couteur made some swift adjustments. "now listen," he said, "we are on a three-hundred-and-fifty-metre wave-length." a moment later came three m's--three pairs of dashes. "that's code five," said captain le couteur. "now we shall get the real message." it came in what to dick was a gibberish of letters and figures, but captain le couteur wrote it down and then, decoding it, read it off with the skill of the expert. it ran: "m m m begins have located the machine stop apparently entirely new type stop tell manton to be ready stop m m m ends." "that's our newest code," the captain explained, "and this is the first time it has been used. jules learnt it only just before he left. it is very unlikely that the message has been picked up by anyone else, as the wave-length is quite low, but even if it was, no one could decipher the code from such a short message. they would want one very much longer, and even then it would probably take at least a week or ten days of very hard work by a lot of experts." and he paused. "i think it would be well now for one of us to be constantly here," he went on. "perhaps, too, you would like to overhaul your machine so as to have it absolutely ready to get away at a moment's notice. my fellows will give you any help you want and they are all absolutely to be depended upon not to talk." dick soon had the mohawk ready; indeed there was not much to do after such a short trip as the flight to verdun. the rest of the day he spent chatting with captain le couteur, finding him a delightful companion and full of enthusiasm on the subject of wireless, of which his knowledge seemed boundless. dick felt he could never tire of admiring the wonderfully ingenious devices which the other had invented and put into operation in his underground fortress. several more messages, chiefly brief reports, were received from jules, always heralded by the seven dots and begun with the three m's which signified the secret code number five. for a few hours everything seemed to be going well. then, towards evening came graver news, which on being deciphered, read: "m m m begins much fear yvette suspected stop tell manton to be ready instant action stop m m m ends." it could only mean, they realised, that yvette had been recognised by a german agent and was being closely watched. the position was dangerous. dick spent the next few hours in an agony of suspense. but he could do nothing. his first instinct was to fly to berlin. but le couteur's iron common-sense showed him clearly enough that to do so would be futile. to keep the mohawk in germany, even for a single day, would be risky; to try to hide her there for perhaps a week till they got a chance to rescue yvette would be suicidal. a sudden swoop, swift and relentless action, and a quick escape were the essentials of success. captain le couteur was scarcely less anxious than dick himself. he had known yvette since she was a child; they came from the same town in alsace. but he possessed a brain of ice and restrained dick's impetuosity, though guessing shrewdly at its cause. "the time is not come yet," he declared. "this is a bit of business which must go to the last tick of the dock. mademoiselle herself would never forgive us if we spoilt everything by undue precipitation, and, after all, monsieur manton, france is of even more importance than mademoiselle pasquet, much as i admire her." "i know," dick admitted. "but when i think of her, with her war record, which they know all about, falling into the hands of those brutes, i can hardly sit still." "they have not got her yet and she is very clever," replied le couteur. "let us hope that she will give them the slip." but about ten o'clock the following morning the dreaded blow fell. they were seated in the underground chamber, dick ill at ease and full of gloomy forebodings. the apparatus set to receive messages on three-hundred-and-fifty-metres. suddenly a buzzing noise was emitted from the loud-speaking telephone on the bench. seven dots, seven times repeated, clicked out strong and dear! surely seconds had never passed so slowly! it seemed an age before captain le couteur, his face white as chalk, took down the message which followed, and then referring to the code, read: "yvette arrested this morning by kranzler." dick turned dizzy and the room spun round him as the dreadful significance of the words struck him. kranzler, of all men! the murderer of yvette's father and mother, the man whom she had beaten over and over again at his own game of espionage during the war, the man whose sensational attempt to dispose of rasputin's stolen jewels had been foiled by yvette's skill and daring! he was, as they knew, a desperate brute who would stick at nothing to feed his revenge. dick was rushing from the room, determined at all hazards to leave for berlin at once, when le couteur seized his arm in a grip of iron. "steady, manton," he said sharply. "don't be a fool. you'll spoil everything. sit down and wait for more news." the words brought dick to his senses. "i'm sorry, le couteur," he said, "but i think i went a bit mad. you are quite right. but kranzler--of all men! you know the story, of course?" le couteur nodded. "it could hardly be worse," he admitted, "and there's no use disguising the fact. but we must wait for more from jules. in the meantime i am going to talk to regnier. he must have more men on the spot. at all costs mademoiselle must be rescued." they were soon in touch with the chief in paris, who was horrified at the news. "i will get some more men over at once," he said. "but we can do nothing until we find out where they have taken her. jules will realise that. you are certain to get another message from him before long." it was not until later that day that they learned how the arrest had been effected. yvette, as soon as the position of the german plane had been located, had managed in the guise of a girl seeking work, to scrape acquaintance with one of the maids employed at the big house where the aeroplane was lodged. the girl had actually taken her up to the house and yvette had coolly applied to the housekeeper for employment. there was, as it happened, no vacancy, but yvette had used her eyes to good purpose. in the walk from the lodge to the house and back she had caught sight of the shed in which, obviously, the aeroplane was housed, and had noted its exact position in the extensive grounds. hurrying back to the hotel she had communicated this information to jules and both were filled with excitement at the important step forward they had made. sitting in the lounge of the "adlon" next morning jules had seen kranzler enter. he had started at once to warn yvette to "lie low," but was just too late. yvette at that moment came down the staircase and before jules could interpose had met kranzler face to face. she was instantly recognised. with a grin of delight on his evil face the big german bowed profoundly. "this is indeed a pleasure, mademoiselle pasquet!" he said ironically. yvette very coolly tried to carry it off. "monsieur has, i think, made a mistake," she said in german. "it's no use, mademoiselle," was the harsh reply, "i know you perfectly. you must come with me--or shall i call the police?" there was obviously nothing for it but to obey, and yvette was forced to leave the hotel in the clutches of the one man in all germany she had the greatest reason to fear. jules acted promptly. slipping out of the hotel he hurriedly wheeled to the front a motor-bicycle he had hired to enable him to travel speedily between berlin and spandau. he got round just in time to see kranzler put yvette into a taxi, and followed them until they alighted at the door of the house in the koeniggratzer-strasse which was the head-quarters of the german secret service. yvette was taken inside. to get the news to dick was now jules' first consideration. knowing something of the methods of the german secret service he was reasonably sure that yvette would be put through a long examination before she was taken to prison, and he decided to run the risk of being absent for a short time to get his message away. he drove hastily in his car out into the country until he found a tree to which his aerial wire could be attached and got off the brief message which conveyed the news to verdun. then he returned to watch, and ascertain where yvette was to be imprisoned. the taxi was still outside the door when he got back to the koeniggratzer-strasse. as an excuse for waiting he feigned engine trouble and tinkered with his machine, keeping all the time a close watch on the door opposite. he had not long to wait. in about half an hour yvette was brought out, still in the custody of kranzler, and driven away. jules followed, and, at length, had the satisfaction of knowing that yvette was in the big prison outside spandau. it was a melancholy satisfaction, it is true, but to know where she was was of supreme importance. driving to gaston's farm he soon informed verdun where yvette was located and then turned to discuss the position with gaston. to his intense surprise and delight, gaston was able to give him some comfort. "of course, it is a great misfortune," he said, "but it might be worse. they have taken her to the one prison in germany where we have been able to keep a thoroughly trustworthy agent. he is a warder who passes as herman fuchs; his real name is pierre latour. we shall soon know all about mademoiselle." the front of the prison was in dear view from gaston's farm. going outside, he called on jules to help him to move one of three large barrels, each containing a big flowering shrub, which stood side by side in front of the house facing the prison. one of these was taken away, leaving only two. "we shall have pierre over here this evening," gaston chuckled. "that's the signal that i want him." sure enough, soon after dark, pierre appeared. a few words explained the situation. he was off duty now for the night and free to do as he pleased. "leave it to me," he said. "i will be back in an hour." he returned with a rough plan of the section of the prison in which yvette was confined. her cell occupied a corner on the first floor at the head of a flight of steps leading down to the big courtyard. if yvette could get out of her cell it would be an easy matter to reach the door leading to the yard. but to get over the high wall, quite unclimbable, was a difficult problem. the entrance from the roadway was always guarded by two warders who occupied little separate lodges placed one each side the gateway. "i can get her out of her cell," said pierre, "but how to get her out of the yard i don't know. i can get a false key to her during the day, but if i were found in that quarter of the prison at night it would mean instant dismissal. on that point the rules are inflexible and we cannot risk it." "no," said gaston, "it is absolutely essential that you shall remain in the prison. but i think i can see a way." he crossed the room to an old-fashioned bureau and produced from a drawer what looked like a heavy short-barrelled pistol. "gas!" he said laconically, "fire that at a man's face within five yards and he will drop like a log. it holds four shots and makes no noise. if mademoiselle can get this she can knock out the two men at the lodge and easily slip out. you can bring her straight here, and we can hide her until she can get away." "she cannot hide that in her cell," said pierre, "but i can hide it in the courtyard. write her a letter telling her exactly what to do and where the pistol will be. i can slip into her cell a skeleton key which will open the door and also the door at the bottom of the steps. but you must manage the rest; i cannot do any more. she must get out immediately after the last visit of the warders at nine o'clock." "thanks very much, pierre," said jules. "i can see no other way, and at all costs we must try to get her out. neither my sister nor myself will ever forget." speedily a letter was written which gave yvette full details of what was proposed, and pierre was about to leave when jules asked him if he had heard anything of the secret aeroplane. pierre shook his head. "there are a lot of privately owned aeroplanes about here," he said, "but i don't know anything more than that. i have seen the one you refer to going up at night--the house is in plain view from my room on the first floor of the prison--but i never heard there was any secret about it, and there are so many aeroplanes about that no one takes any notice of them." jules told him all they had found out, and of their suspicions, and found pierre was able to give them valuable information. the aeroplane shed, he told them, was just where yvette had located it. above it--and this was important--were some rooms which were used, apparently, as offices. "i have often," said pierre, "seen a man come from the offices with what looked like plans, make examination and measurements of the machine, and then go back. but i never took much notice; i had no reason to." pierre left, taking with him the letter to yvette. for an hour jules and gaston discussed the situation. "we must get her out to-morrow," declared gaston, "or else they may take her away and we shall not be able to find out where she is. manton ought to fly over to-morrow night. if we can get mademoiselle pasquet out she can hide here quite safely for a few hours, but there will be a very close search when her escape is discovered." "i'll get the message to manton at once," said jules. and so it happened that dick and le couteur, who had been waiting for hours in a state of tense anxiety, received a few minutes later the call. "m m m begins to-morrow night stop come early as possible stop three lights in triangle safe stop four keep off m m m ends." "at last," said dick grimly, with a look on his face that boded ill for some one. he looked drawn and haggard, and even le couteur could hardly repress a shudder at the savage determination that blazed in his eyes. for yvette the next day was one of misery. time after time she was dragged from her cell and taken before the governor of the prison, and kranzler, to be pitilessly cross-questioned and even threatened with violence. but even though she knew well that the two brutes were quite capable of carrying out their threats nothing could break the spirit of the french girl. to all their questions and menaces she turned a deaf ear and nothing they could say would induce her to affirm or deny anything. utterly worn out she was at length roughly bundled back into her cell, where she dropped exhausted on the miserable apology for a bed. at least she was alone. it was about five o'clock and she had fallen into an uneasy doze, when she was awakened by a slight noise at the door. she saw the observation grille slide back and, pushed through the grating, a tiny parcel fell with a subdued clink on the floor. then the grating was closed. hastily she sprang to her feet and seized the parcel, a new hope surging in her breast. it could only mean help! inside the parcel was a letter, unsigned of course, but in jules' handwriting, and a small key. nine o'clock came, and with all the wearisome ceremony dear to the german heart, the guard, accompanied by a wardress, made its final inspection for the night. a few minutes after the big prison was as silent as the grave. half an hour later yvette cautiously fitted the key into the lock. it had been well oiled, and the door swung open without a sound. creeping down the flight of steps yvette found that the key also opened the door at the bottom, and in a moment she was in the yard. rain was falling heavily. there was not a ray of light in the yard excepting a faint gleam which showed the position of the warders' lodges. before leaving her cell yvette had pulled her stockings over her boots, and moving without a sound she groped her way along the wall. a few feet from the door she found the big stackpipe which brought the rain water from the roof. stooping she lifted the iron grid of the drain and thrust in her hand. her fingers closed on the butt end of the gas pistol. silently, following along the wall in preference to crossing the courtyard, she stole towards the lodge. complete surprise was essential. with the pistol ready in her hand, she softly opened the door of the lodge on the right of the gateway. luck was with her again. the two men, in defiance of rules, were in the same lodge talking quietly. the noise of the door opening brought them to their feet with a jump. but they were too late. only ten feet away from them yvette pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession. there was no more noise than a slight hiss as the gas escaped and the two men dropped insensible. snatching up a bunch of keys from the table, yvette herself half-stifled, quickly got outside and closed the door. a moment later she had opened the wicket-gate and slipped through. she almost fell into the arms of jules and gaston, and at top speed the three raced through the rain for gaston's farm. luckily, the pouring rain swiftly obliterated their footprints, but they had hardly got into hiding, wet through but triumphant, when pandemonium broke out in the prison, and the frantic ringing of the big bell announced the escape of a prisoner. the two warders, of course, had speedily recovered, and hastened to tell their story, and a quick search had revealed that yvette's cell was empty. a few minutes later search parties were hurrying in every direction in pursuit of the fugitive. gaston's farm, lying close to the prison, was naturally one of the first places to be visited. gaston, smoking peacefully by the fireside, soon heard, as he expected, the savage clamour of dogs in the farmyard mingled with agonised cries for help. he hurried out. two warders, one of them badly bitten, were backed against the fence, hardly keeping at bay with their sticks a couple of powerful dogs. gaston called off the dogs and, full of apparent solicitude, expressed his regret. he listened to the guards' explanation. "she cannot have been here," he declared, "the dogs would have bitten her to pieces. but, of course, we will look round if you like." the guards, however, were more than satisfied. gaston's argument was backed by their own experience, and they were quite ready to be convinced if they could only get away from the ferocious dogs who continually prowled about snarling as though even the presence of their master was hardly sufficient to protect his visitors. they little dreamed that the savage brutes would indeed have torn yvette to pieces had not gaston thoughtfully taken the precaution to lock them up before he and jules started to rescue her! away at verdun dick stood beside the mohawk waiting impatiently in the dark. time and again he had tested every nut and screw in the machine; time and again he had run the powerful engine to make sure that it was in working order. at last the longed for moment for action came. anything was better than long drawn-out suspense. he wrung le couteur's hand as he stepped into the machine. "i'll be back with her by dawn," he said, "or else--" there was no need to finish the sentence. he had not gone five minutes before le couteur received a message from jules announcing that yvette had escaped. if only dick had known! it was raining hard when the mohawk rose into the air, but dick was beyond caring for the weather, and anxious only for yvette, he sent the helicopter tearing through the darkness eastward to berlin. he drove almost automatically, his thoughts intent on the girl ahead of him. as he approached berlin, the weather cleared and the rain stopped. all around him were the navigation lights of the german mail and passenger planes, hurrying to every quarter of the empire, and, even in his anxiety, dick was conscious of an uneasy feeling of irritation at the thought that england was being left so far behind in the race for the mastery of the air. then he caught sight of the great beams of light that marked the position of the huge berlin aerodrome, and a few minutes' flying brought him above spandau. he circled twice, looking for gaston's signals, and at last he dropped lower, caught the gleam of the three lanterns which gaston had placed to guide him, and brought the machine swiftly down beside the big barn. then he leaped from his seat. he nearly gave a shout of joy that would have aroused every german within a mile! for there, in the light of the lanterns, stood yvette herself. there was no time for explanation. "now's your chance," gasped jules, wild with excitement, "the german plane has just gone up!" dick's face hardened instantly. "get in, yvette," he said curtly. yvette stared in utter astonishment. this was a new dick with a vengeance! all his usual graceful courtesy had dropped from him in the instant; the sheer fighting spirit was on top and dick was, for the moment, the officer giving commands to his subordinates. his face was set like granite, and into the keen eyes there came a look yvette had never seen there before. the cheerful, laughing "pal" had gone; in its place stood the fighting machine, pitiless and efficient. for an instant the girl was almost on the edge of rebellion; then she turned, and, without a word, took her place in the machine. as she did so, she caught dick's eye. for an instant the stern face relaxed; then the iron mask shut down again. for five minutes, while yvette put on her leather helmet, dick studied the plan which jules showed to him by the light of a shaded lantern. when the mohawk jumped into the air every detail of it was photographed indelibly on his brain. for three thousand feet the mohawk shot upward at a speed which left yvette dizzy and breathless. then they hung motionless, as dick peered anxiously earthward. were they high enough? with a smothered exclamation yvette pointed downward. far below them a light was circling swiftly, darting hither and thither like a will o' the wisp. no mail plane would behave like that. dick decided that here was his quarry. silently the mohawk came down till it was not more than five hundred feet above its unsuspecting prey, the loud drone of whose engine came clearly on the air. dick swung round in a circle, following every movement of the machine below, with a swift precision which yvette keenly appreciated. dick had made up his mind that the offices above the aeroplane shed probably held the key to the problem they had to solve. he knew he could destroy the machine itself. but that would not be enough if the plans remained intact; a new machine could quickly be built. if he could destroy the plans, on the other hand, there would be at least a lot of delay, which would enable the french agents to perfect their plans for discovering the secret. in all probability, he reasoned, the office would serve as the draughtsmen's workroom, and if this were so, a well-placed bomb might destroy the labour of months. so he watched and waited, until at length they saw the german aeroplane going home. it came down in a wonderfully steep descent which was enough to tell dick that the germans had indeed made a discovery of great importance, and landed so slowly that dick could hardly believe his eyes. but, at least, he saw enough to be sure that the descent was not the vertical drop of his own helicopter. his secret remained his own! close beside the shed a couple of hooded airmen alighted. lights were switched on and they began a careful examination of the machine. five hundred feet above dick watched the figures with interest. suddenly the men below stiffened and looked skyward, listening intently. evidently they had caught the faint sound of dick's propellers. a glance through his bomb sights showed dick that he was in the position he desired. there was now no possible escape for the craft below. then one of the men pointed upward. even in the darkness he had caught a glimpse of the mohawk. dick's hand shot to the bomb controls and he pulled a trigger. a petrol bomb fell squarely on the german plane and burst with a soft explosion, barely audible. a sheet of fire followed, and in an instant the german plane was a mass of flames, fed by the petrol which streamed from its tanks. one of the germans was caught in the outburst and apparently died almost instantly. the second man, however, dashed into the office. the mohawk moved forward a few feet and three more bombs fell in quick succession, right on the roof of the shed. then, her work done, she rose high into the air and dick and yvette watched the results. the shed below them was already a furnace. apparently there must have been some petrol tanks there, for no ordinary building could have burned so furiously. in a few minutes nothing remained but a heap of glowing embers. dick watched keenly for the man who had run into the office, but he never reappeared, and it was evident that, trapped by the flames, he had been unable to get out in time, and had perished. dick little suspected at the time how important the fate of that man was to prove. then dick set the mohawk at top speed for home. just as dawn was breaking verdun loomed ahead. yvette was saved. two days later the _berliner tageblatt_ told how the famous scientist, professor zingler, had perished in a fire which had destroyed his laboratory at spandau. the fire was attributed to an explosion of petrol on the professor's aeroplane which had set light to the office. unfortunately, the paper added, all the professor's valuable papers and books had been lost. the secret of the zingler aeroplane had perished, and the seven dots were never heard again. chapter four. the sorcerer of soho. "unless we can solve this terrible mystery in the course of a few weeks, it is hardly too much to say that england is doomed." the speaker was the white-haired professor durward, the distinguished head of the royal society. he sat facing the prime minister in the latter's room at , downing street. round the long table were grouped the members of the cabinet. they were men who had lived through stormy and troublous times and had met stories of disaster without flinching. but, as they admitted afterwards, none of the terrible tidings of past years, when the fortunes of the empire seemed to be tottering, had affected them to the same extent as the few brief words with which the distinguished savant summed up the long deliberations on which they had been engaged. they seemed pregnant with the very message of fate. almost they could see the writing on the wall. "but, professor," asked the premier, "do you really mean that nothing whatever can be done to check or prevent this terrible malady?" "nothing, so far as i am aware," was the reply. "as you know the most distinguished men of science in england have been at work on the problem. we had a very full meeting last night, and the unanimous verdict was that the disease was not only absolutely incurable, but that nothing we have tried seems capable of affording even the slightest alleviation. the deaths reported already amount to nearly half a million; though the truth is being carefully concealed from the public in order to allay panic, yet practically every community in which the disease has appeared has been virtually wiped out. curiously enough it does not seem to be spread by contagion. in spite of the rush of terrified people from districts in which it has appeared, no cases have shown themselves except in towns or villages where the mysterious violet cloud has been observed. that phenomenon has been the precursor of every outbreak." a month before, in the tiny village of moorcrest, buried in the recesses of the chilterns, an unoccupied house had suddenly collapsed with a slight explosion. no one was in the house at the time, and no one was injured. as to the cause of the explosion no one could form an idea. nothing in the nature of the remains of a bomb could be discovered, and there was no gas laid on in the village. but the few villagers who were about at the time spoke of seeing a dense cloud of pale violet vapour pouring from the ruins. on this point all observers were agreed, and they all agreed, too, that the cloud was accompanied by a powerful smell which strongly resembled a combination of petrol and musk. that was all the evidence that could be collected. no harm seemed to follow and the matter was speedily forgotten. very soon, however, the incident took on a new and sinister significance. a week later a similar explosion took place in ancoats, a poor and densely crowded suburb of manchester. in every respect this incident duplicated the happening at moorcrest. naturally, it created something of a sensation, and the papers, recalling the moorcrest mystery, made the most of it. during the next fortnight similar explosions, all bearing the same distinguishing features, occurred in various parts of england. sometimes there would be three or four in a single day in the same, or closely adjoining, areas. the public became excited. not a single person was injured, the damage done was apparently trifling, since all the houses destroyed were of the poorest class. it looked like the work of a maniac--purposeless and without the slightest trace of a motive. people spoke of bolshevists and communists. but what bolshevik or communist, others asked, would waste time and effort to inflict such absurd pinpricks on society? they were soon to be undeceived. an enemy of society was indeed at work armed with a weapon of a potency which far outstripped the paltry efforts of the terrorists of old, to whom the bomb and the revolver were the means of world regeneration. the explosion at moorcrest took place on may nd. twelve days later, on may th, doctor clare-royden, who was in practice at little molton, a village about four miles from moorcrest, received an urgent message from an old patient summoning him to moorcrest. doctor royden, jumping on his motor-bicycle, answered the summons at once. a terrible surprise awaited him. practically every inhabitant of the village, about a hundred people in all, were in the grip of a fearful and, so far as doctor royden's knowledge went, wholly unknown malady. its principal symptoms were complete paralysis of the arms which were strained and twisted in a terrible manner, fever which mounted at a furious speed, and agonising pains in the head. many of the victims were already _in extremis_, several died even while the doctor was examining them, and in the course of a few hours practically everyone attacked by the disease had succumbed. the only ones to recover were a few children, too young to give any useful information. it would be useless to trace or describe the excitement which followed, even though the press, at the instigation of the government, was silent upon the matter. help was rushed to moorcrest, the dead were interred and the living helped in every way. the ministry of health sent down its most famous experts to investigate. one and all admitted that they were completely baffled. on may st ancoats was the scene of an appalling outbreak of the disease. people in the densely packed areas died like flies. but there were some remarkable circumstances which drew the attention of the trained observers who rushed to the spot to inquire into the phenomenon. ancoats had been the scene of the second explosion twelve days before. it was not long before a health official noticed the coincidence that the outbreaks at moorcrest and ancoats occurred exactly twelve days after the explosions in each place. the coincidence was, of course, remarked upon as somewhat suspicious, but it was not until it was reproduced in the terrible outbreak at nottingham that suspicion became a practical certainty. it was speedily confirmed by repeated outbreaks in other parts of the country. in each case the mysterious malady broke out exactly twelve days after the appearance of the violet vapour. in all cases the symptoms were precisely alike, and the percentage of deaths was appalling. neither remedy nor palliative could be devised, and the best medical brains in the country confessed themselves baffled. by this time there was no room for doubt that the terror was the deliberate work of some human fiend who had won a frightful secret from nature's great laboratory. but who could it be, and what possible object could he have? leading scientific men of all nations poured in to england to help. for it was now recognised that civilisation as a whole was menaced; the fate of england to-day might be the fate of any other nation to-morrow. france and the united states sent important missions; even russia and germany were represented by famous bacteriologists and health experts. international jealousies and rivalries appeared to be laid aside, and even the secret service, most suspicious of rivals, began for once to co-operate and place at each other's disposal information which might prove useful in tracking down the author of the mysterious pestilence. on the day of the meeting of the british cabinet, two men and a pretty, dark-haired french girl were keenly discussing the terrible problem in a small but tastefully furnished flat in the avenue kleber, in paris. "i know only three people in the world with brains enough to carry the thing out," said the girl. "they are ivan petroff, the russian; paolo caetani, the italian, and sebastian gonzalez, the spaniard. they are all three avowed anarchists, and, as we know, they are all chemists and bacteriologists of supreme ability. but i must say that there is not a scrap of evidence to connect either of them with this affair." the speaker was yvette pasquet, and there was no one in whom regnier, the astute head of the french secret service, placed more implicit confidence. "if the doctors could settle whether this poisoning is chemical or bacteriological it would help us a great deal," said dick manton. "if it is chemical, i should be disposed to include barakoff; he knows more about chemistry than all the others put together. but in any case, there is as yet nothing we can even begin to work on." a fortnight went past. the death-roll in england had assumed terrible proportions, and apparently the authorities were as far off as ever from coming to grips with the mystery. but a clue came through the heroism of a london policeman. one night constable jervis was patrolling a beat which led him through some tumbledown streets in the lowest quarter of canning town. suddenly he caught sight of a man rushing from a small empty house. at once jervis started in pursuit of the man, who was running hard away from him. as he did so, there came the sound of an explosion, and the house the man had just left collapsed like a pack of cards. at the same time the odour of the dreaded violet vapour completely filled the narrow street. the terror had attacked london, and jervis knew that to cross that zone of vapour meant certain death. he did not hesitate. muffling his face with his pocket handkerchief as he ran, he dashed at full speed after the stranger, whom he could just discern. he crossed the zone of death, almost overpowered by the curious scent of petrol and musk that loaded the still air, and a moment later was in pursuit, blowing his whistle loudly as he ran. a moment later a second policeman, hearing his colleague's whistle, stood at the end of the road barring the way. the desperado was trapped. snatching out a revolver, the man backed against the wall and opened fire on his pursuers who were rapidly closing in on him. but both the policemen were armed, and both opened fire. jervis's second shot killed the man on the spot. he proved to be a well-known member of a russian anarchist group which had its head-quarters in the slums of soho. the gallant jervis had faced certain death--as a matter of fact he was among the hundred or so victims when the epidemic broke out twelve days later--but he had done his duty in accordance with the splendid traditions of the force to which he belonged. the source of the mysterious epidemic was now, to a certain extent, localised. it needed no great acumen to guess the motive and origin of the fiendish plot. but to discover the master-mind which held the full solution of the mystery was another matter. the first step was a general round-up of known members of the anarchist party. they were arrested by dozens, and very soon practically all who were known were under lock and key. to the intense surprise of the police, one and all acknowledged that they were fully familiar with the scheme. many of them had actually taken part in its execution. the secret had been well kept! the explosions, it was learned, were caused by small bombs about the size of an orange. these were placed in the selected houses and timed to explode in a few hours. evidently there was some defect in the mechanism of the one sent to canning town, and the man who placed it there must have seen that it was likely to explode prematurely and rushed in panic from the house. but of the source of the bombs one and all of the men professed complete ignorance. they were, it was asserted, received by post from different places on the continent. it was evident that the crafty scoundrel at the head of the terrible organisation took elaborate precautions to prevent their sources of origin being discovered. but to have traced the outbreak to anarchist sources was a step of the first importance. immediately every branch of the secret service of the western world was concentrated on the problem. a hint from one of the men captured, who collapsed under the cross-examination to which the known leaders were subjected, put the police in possession of one of the bombs. it had arrived by post the day before, and the miscreant to whom it was sent was caught before he had time to make use of it. it was now possible to prove definitely that the disease caused by the bombs was chemical in its origin. upon analysis the powder with which the bomb was filled was found to consist of a series of, apparently, quite harmless chemicals. a small portion fired by the detonator found in the bomb gave off dense clouds of the pale-violet vapour, and animals exposed to it were speedily killed, exhibiting every symptom of the terrible disease. unhappily the secret of the detonator used defied discovery. the one found in the bomb had been used in the only experiment that had been made, and too late it was discovered that no fulminating material known would explode the apparently harmless powder. "that seems to narrow it down to barakoff," said dick manton a few days later when regnier brought them the news. "i don't think either of the others is equal to research work capable of producing such results. do you know where barakoff is now?" he asked in french. regnier shook his head. "he was in moscow a year ago," he replied, "and after that we heard of him in prague, in rome, and lastly in madrid, but he disappeared suddenly and we have not been able to pick up his tracks again. he is a short, powerful, thickset man with a rather hunched back, but nothing else peculiar about his appearance." next day, however, regnier came to the adventurous trio in great excitement. "barakoff is in england!" he declared. "we have just had word from gaston meunier who saw him in brighton a week ago!" "but how on earth did he get there?" asked jules. "you know every one has been looking for him for months past. he could not possibly have got through by any of the ordinary routes." "i'm as puzzled as you are, monsieur," was regnier's reply. "well, if he is there we'd better go over," said dick. "yvette can go with me in mohawk ii and jules by the night boat. i shall fly the mohawk to my old shed in norfolk; i have kept it on in case of emergency, and it is quite safe." an hour later dick was in close talk with a young russian named nicholas fedoroff. he had been an active member of a circle of dangerous anarchists in zurich, but had dropped out and was now living in paris. by good fortune dick had saved his baby girl, at imminent risk of his own life, from being killed by a motor-van in paris, hence fedoroff was impulsively grateful. "look here, nicholas," said dick bluntly. "i want you to tell me anything you can about barakoff." they were seated in a small cafe in the rue caumartin, which was fedoroff's favourite haunt. the russian glanced round fearfully. "hush!" he said in broken french and in evident horror. "i--i can't tell you! he has agents everywhere. if i were heard even speaking his name i should never get home." the man's agitation was so pronounced that one or two men in the cafe glanced at him curiously. dick saw that the mere mention of barakoff's name had thrown the russian completely off his balance. "come to my flat," he said quietly, "you have got to tell me." they drove in a taxi to dick's flat, where a stiff dose of brandy pulled the russian together. yet he still trembled like a leaf. "how did you know that i knew barakoff?" he asked. instantly dick was keenly on the alert. he had no idea that fedoroff had been associated with the notorious criminal; his appeal to fedoroff had been a chance shot. evidently he had stumbled on a matter of importance. but he was quick to take advantage of his good luck. "never mind how," he said. "i do know, and that's enough. you have got to tell me. i believe barakoff is at the bottom of the trouble in england. i know he is there, and i want to know where he is and how he got there." the russian's agitation increased. "you must not ask me; i cannot tell you," he gasped. "then a few words from me in a certain quarter--not the police," dick suggested. the russian collapsed. "no, no, i will tell you," he moaned. "he is in england, but i don't know where. he flew over." "flew over!" echoed dick in utter amazement. "nonsense, he couldn't have got in that way. every aerodrome in england has been watched for months." "but he did," the russian asserted. "he has his own aeroplane. it makes no noise, and it goes straight up and down." here was a surprise indeed! the secret of the helicopter with its almost unlimited power for evil was also in the hands of one of the most desperate ruffians in the world! there was indeed no time to be lost. fedoroff could tell dick little more. what the secret of barakoff's influence over him was dick could not fathom. he would say nothing, but evidently was in deadly fear. one little item dick did indeed extract and it was to prove valuable. fedoroff knew that barakoff had associates in soho. and that was the only clue they could gain to his possible whereabouts. that evening dick, yvette, and jules crossed to england, and with official introductions from regnier, dick lost no time in getting into communication with detective inspector buckhurst, one of the ablest men of scotland yard's famous "special department," a man whose knowledge of the alien scum which infested london was unrivalled. to him dick told all he knew. buckhurst looked grave. "i know of the man, of course," he said, "but i have never seen him and i don't think any of my men have. we have combed soho out pretty thoroughly, but no one answering to barakoff's description has been seen." the position was very grave. if fedoroff's information was correct--and dick saw no reason to doubt it--here was a desperate scoundrel lurking in england armed with an aeroplane of unknown design and power, and in possession of a terrible secret which, unless his career was brought to an end, threatened the entire population of the country. but where was he hiding, and, above all, where was his machine? could it possibly be hidden, dick wondered, in the very heart of london? the idea was almost incredible, but dick knew barakoff's undoubted genius and his amazing daring. a remarkable feature of yvette's personality was her wonderful influence over children. they seemed literally to worship her. she would get into conversation with the half-tamed _gamins_ of the streets and in a few hours they would be her devoted slaves. she now proceeded to enlist the ragged battalions of soho in a fashion that caused buckhurst much amusement. "find out for me all the hunchbacked men you can," was all the instructions she gave them. "but, mademoiselle," said inspector buckhurst, "it will be the talk of soho, and our man if he is there will slip away." yvette was unmoved. "just think a minute," she said. "who can go about all day and all night without being suspected? the children. who can go into dens where your men hardly dare to venture? the children. who know all the hidden haunts of which your men are utterly ignorant? the children. and finally, who are the most secretive people in the world? again the children. do not fear, monsieur buckhurst, they will not talk except among themselves, and that will do no harm." buckhurst was far from satisfied, but he had gained such a respect for yvette that he did not venture to override her. at the same time, he told her plainly that he should keep his own men busy. yvette only laughed. during the next forty-eight hours dozens of hunchbacked men were reported. many of them were people whom not even the police knew. they were, of course, mostly harmless, but buckhurst opened his eyes when one of them proved to be a notorious forger for whom the police had been looking for some months, and who had all the time been hidden under their very noses! buckhurst began to feel a growing respect for the amazing french girl, who had beaten his smartest detectives on their own ground. but, unfortunately, none of the hunchbacks was the man they wanted, and at last they began to suspect that fedoroff's information was at fault. then came a dramatic surprise. one of yvette's small assistants, a sharp little polish jew boy, came to her with a strange story. he had been wandering about the night before and had seen a hunchbacked man let himself out of the side door of a big building half-way between greek street and war dour street. the man had walked a considerable distance in a northerly direction into a part of london the boy did not know at all, and had entered an unoccupied house, stayed a few minutes, and come out again. the lad had shadowed him all the way, and had followed him homewards, until he again entered the building in soho. dick, jules, and yvette turned out at once. the boy pointed out the building to them. it was a tall structure which dominated all the others in the vicinity. it was apparently a big shop with storerooms above. on the facia over the windows was the name "marcel deloitte, antique furniture." there was nothing to indicate that it differed in the slightest degree from dozens of other shops and buildings in the neighbourhood. yet dick felt suspicious. "we can do nothing till i get the mohawk handy," said dick. "i will bring her down to-night." and he paused. "i wish you would keep out of this, yvette," he went on wistfully. "it is going to be very dangerous, i am convinced." the french girl was growing very dear to him, and he shuddered at the idea of her being mixed up in the coming struggle with a desperado of barakoff's type. but yvette shook her head. "i'm in this to the finish, dick," was all she said in her pretty broken english, and dick knew he could not move her. but he was full of fear. that afternoon another explosion of the pale-violet vapour occurred in north london not far from finsbury park station. dick rushed to the spot with the boy who had followed the hunchbacked man, and the lad recognised the place without hesitation. the house destroyed was, he was confident, the one the hunchback had entered the night before. barakoff was located at last! but how was he to be captured? the problem was not so easy. it was vital that, if possible, he should be taken alive. they knew what would follow the explosion at finsbury park, and there was a chance at least that if barakoff were captured the secret of the disease, and possibly the antidote, might be wrung from him. if they could succeed in that hundreds of lives would be saved. together the three worked out a careful plan for the _coup_ they intended to bring off next morning. very early a dozen street arabs were playing innocently close to the two entrances of the mysterious building. they were chosen specimens of yvette's band of ragamuffin detectives, and she knew that if barakoff tried to escape he would have no chance of eluding their keen eyes. all the approaches were blocked by detectives, but yvette insisted that none should approach the house itself. it was essential to the success of their plan that barakoff's suspicions should not be aroused. from the roof of a big building half a mile away, dick made a careful examination of what he was now convinced was barakoff's hiding-place. but he could see little. the roof was flat, but it was surrounded by a parapet practically breast high. there was obviously plenty of room to conceal a small aeroplane, but dick could see nothing. dick and buckhurst together saw the proprietor of the building from which dick had made his observations. he readily consented to dick's plan, and towards evening placed a trusty commissionaire at the foot of the flight of steps leading to the roof with instructions that no one was to pass on any account whatever. soon after dark the mohawk dropped silently on to the flat roof. they were ready now to catch their bird! in the morning yvette, under the pretence of wishing to buy some old furniture, entered the shop. so far as she could see there was nothing suspicious. there was a manager, evidently a russian, and two assistants. asking for a jacobean chest which she did not see in the shop, yvette was at length invited to the upper floors. these she found to be full of furniture. climbing the stairs to the third floor, accompanied by the manager, yvette found herself in a large room divided in the centre by a wall, and with a door in the middle. opening this door the manager bowed to her to precede him, and yvette, quite unsuspectingly, obeyed. next second the door crashed to, and she heard a key turn in the lock. she was trapped! before she could recover from her astonishment there was a rush of feet behind her, and she found herself seized in a grip which, as she at once recognised, it was far beyond her strength to shake off. she struggled frantically, but in vain. she was hopelessly overpowered and swiftly bound, and laid, gagged and helpless, on a sofa in the corner of the room. then for the first time she caught sight of her captor. she recognised him at once. it was barakoff himself! _worse still, he knew her_! the man was mad with rage, his face convulsed and his eyes blazing with fury. "so, mademoiselle pasquet! we meet at last!" he snarled, stooping over her until his face was within a foot of her own and she could feel his hot breath upon her cheek. "but it is for the first--and last time!" accustomed as she was to danger in many forms, yvette could not repress a shudder. in the power of a ruffian like barakoff! she knew, of course, that at any moment jules might become suspicious of her long absence and come in search of her. but how long would he be and what might happen in the meantime? barakoff set swiftly to work and fixed inside the doors heavy bars which, as yvette realised with a sinking heart, would effectually shut out anyone trying to gain admittance, until either the door was reduced to splinters or a hole was knocked in the wall. then he picked her up without an effort and carried her into the adjoining room. this, to yvette's intense surprise, was elaborately fitted up as a chemical laboratory, with all kinds of strange instruments and apparatus. it was evident that it had long been used for this purpose. with an evil sneer barakoff took from a cupboard what yvette had no difficulty in recognising as one of the poison bombs! this he placed on a table and attached to it a short length of fuse. then he began to busy himself with what seemed to be preparations for leaving, packing a few articles of clothing in a small bag and laying it down with a heavy coat beside it. "when night comes, i go," he said. "but you--you will remain. but i shall leave you in good company, mademoiselle," and he pointed to the deadly bomb. "you will not feel dull. and after i am gone you will die--very slowly--of the twisted arms." for a few minutes the miscreant sat silent, smoking a cigarette and regarding yvette with a look of triumph she found even harder to bear than the consciousness of her terrible danger. jules, on watch below, had at length become uneasy. he entered the shop and asked one of the assistants if the lady was still there. "yes," replied the fellow readily, "she is upstairs with the manager looking at some furniture." jules, his hand on his pistol in his pocket, and feeling strangely uneasy, started up the stairs. there was no one in the building. what could have become of yvette and the manager? on the third floor he noticed the door through which yvette had gone. he seized the handle and tried to open it. but the door was locked and there was no key. not daring to raise an alarm for fear of the consequences to yvette, jules hastened down the stairs, and signalled to one of the scotland yard men. in a low voice jules told him what had happened. "we must be ready to break down that door at once," he said. with swift efficiency help was summoned, including a couple of men of the salvage corps, armed with powerful axes which would make short work of any ordinary door. while the shop assistants were kept under surveillance, jules and his helpers mounted to the third floor. they tried the door, and knocked. there was no reply, but inside they heard the hasty scurry of feet. "break it down," said inspector buckhurst, who had been one of the first to arrive. the salvage men sprang forward, and one on each side of the door began a furious attack with their axes. instantly a shot rang out. splinters flew in showers, but the door, heavily barred and plated with iron, for a time defied all their efforts. at last it gave way, and headed by jules the police party rushed in. their first discovery was yvette, lying unconscious and bleeding profusely from a wound in the shoulder. barakoff had fired at her as he hurried from the room when the thunderous attack on the door began. but in his blind haste his aim had been bad, even at such short range, and she escaped with comparatively slight injury. but where was barakoff? rushing out on to the flat roof jules looked hurriedly round. to the southward a queer-looking aeroplane was just vanishing into the thin mist. but behind it, going "all out," sped the mohawk in furious pursuit. dick manton was taking a hand in the game of which he was a master! there could be but one end to that, jules thought, with a sigh of relief as he turned to look after yvette. she was recovering consciousness and they were just about to carry her out, when one of the policemen with a loud cry dashed to the table. he had caught sight of a thin thread of smoke rising from the fuse of the bomb! luckily he was an old bombing instructor and knew what to do. a moment later the fuse was cut and the bomb's detonator removed. it was harmless now. half a minute later it would have exploded. watching keenly from his roof dick manton had seen barakoff's aeroplane rise swiftly and silently into the air. he had some slight trouble in starting the mohawk, and the russian was a mile away before the englishman had started in pursuit. crouched in the driving seat of the mohawk, dick kept his eyes glued on the machine in front. he soon realised, to his dismay, that the russian machine was much the faster and was leaving him behind. by the time they had gone ten miles and were out over the open country, he could only just discern the fugitive as a mere speck in the distance, and he realised with a sinking heart that a fleck of mist would enable barakoff to escape. suddenly he discovered that the russian machine had descended very low. a moment later it appeared to rise vertically, going up to a great height. instantly dick followed and to his surprise found himself gaining rapidly. then the russian seemed to slip ahead again. several times this was repeated, and dick at length divined the reason. the russian could not run his elevating and driving propellers simultaneously. he travelled in a series of swoops, coming down very slowly as the machine drove forward, and then being compelled to stop the driving propellers while he gained the necessary height to continue his flight. no doubt this was explained by the fact that the planes were too small to keep the machine up without the elevating propellers. dick saw that he held a big advantage. the mohawk, though slightly slower, could rise and go forward at the same time under the influence of both propellers. as they sped over kent, dick began to realise with joy that he was gaining. slowly the poison-fiend began to come back to him. then came the critical moment. five hundred yards ahead and a thousand feet below, barakoff, close to the ground, must rise soon to gain the elevation he required. that was the moment for which dick had been waiting. he called on his machine for the last ounce of effort he had been holding in reserve. the mohawk shot forward. a few seconds later dick was directly above the russian. so far as air tactics went he had won; the russian was entirely at his mercy. then began surely the strangest aerial combat ever witnessed. to and fro the machines dodged, barakoff striving to gain height and succeeding for a moment only to find his pursuer above him again and bullets whining round him; dick striving to force the russian down to the ground where he must either land or crash. for fully half an hour the machines flitted backwards and forwards around the town of ashford. dick had no fear of the result; his only risk was whether he could send barakoff down before dusk came. unless he could do this there was every danger that the russian would escape under cover of darkness. at last the end came. dick had forced his antagonist so low that, as a last desperate resort, barakoff had to leap upward to clear a big group of elms. he miscalculated by a few feet, his machine touched the upper branches and went smashing to earth. three minutes later dick was standing beside the body of the death-dealer. barakoff's machine was a complete wreck and was blazing furiously. the man himself had been flung clear and lay in a crumpled heap, stone dead. there is little more to tell. the formula for the powder with which the bomb was charged was found in barakoff's laboratory, and with it, in russian, a prescription which, on being tested, proved to be a complete cure for the disease. it was found just in time to save those who would otherwise have been the victims of the explosion at finsbury park. it was evident that barakoff must have maintained his laboratory in soho for months. obviously the manager of the shop was one of his accomplices, and apparently he had recognised yvette and deliberately thrown her into barakoff's hands. then realising that discovery was inevitable he had slipped out of the building, probably by a window as neither of the assistants had noticed him leave. he was never found. the assistants themselves proved to be respectable young fellows who had been employed only a few weeks and who clearly knew nothing of the nefarious conspiracy. nothing but the mohawk had prevented barakoff's escape! and dick manton received later on the official thanks of the british government for his daring exploit. chapter five. the master atom. "oh! la la! how horribly dull life is! i do wish something really startling would happen, dick!" the words were spoken in pretty broken english by yvette pasquet, who, charming and _chic_, as usual, was sitting with jules and dick manton. the adventurous trio were dining _al fresco_ in the leafy garden of the old-world "hotel de france" on the river bank at montigny, that delightful spot on the outskirts of the great forest of fontainebleau, a spot beloved by all the artists and _litterateurs_ of paris. "something will happen suddenly, no doubt," dick laughed, glancing at his beloved. "it always does!" "i sincerely hope it will," declared jules in good english. "we're really getting rather rusty. i met regnier yesterday out at pre catalan with madame sohet, and he hinted to me that some great mystery had arisen; but he would tell me nothing further." "regnier, as head of the service, is always well informed, and like an oyster," yvette remarked with a laugh. "so i suppose we must wait for something to happen. i hate to be idle." "yes. something will surely happen very shortly," said dick. "i have a curious intuition that we shall very soon be away again on another mission. my intuition never fails me." dick manton's words were prophetic, for on that same evening before a meeting of the royal society in london, professor rudford, the world-famed scientist, made an amazing speech in which he said: "could we but solve the problem of releasing and controlling the mighty forces locked up in this piece of chalk, we should have power enough to drive the biggest liner to new york and back. we should have at our disposal energy unlimited. the daily work of the world would be reduced to a few minutes' tending of automatic machinery. and, i may add, the first nation to solve that problem will have the entire world at its mercy. for no nation, or combination of nations, could stand even against a small people armed with force unlimited and terrible. and-- gentlemen--_we are on the way to solving that problem_!" as the words fell slowly and calmly from his lips his hearers felt a thrill of ungovernable emotion, almost of apprehension. for they knew well that he spoke only of what he knew, and the measured phrases conjured up in their keen brains not only a picture of a world where labour had been reduced to the vanishing point, but of a world where evil still strove with good, where the enemies of society still strove against the established order of things which they hated, where crime in the hands of the master criminal, armed with force whose potentiality they could only dream of, would be something transcending in sheer horror all the past experiences of tortured humanity. supposing the great secret _fell into the wrong hands_! the speech at the royal society was a nine days' wonder. the unthinking press made merry in the bare idea of a lump of chalk being a source of power. then the transient impression faded as public attention returned to football and the latest prize-fight. but behind the scenes, in a hundred laboratories, students bent unceasingly over their myriad experiments, striving to wrest from nature her greatest secret, the mystery of the mighty energy of the atom. since the day when madame curie had discovered that in breaking up, yet seemingly never growing less, radium was shooting off day and night power which never seemed to diminish, the minds of the men of science had been filled with the dream of discovering the secret. could they learn to accelerate the process? could they induce radium to deliver in a few moments the power which, expending itself for centuries untold, never seemed to grow less? could they learn to control it, or would it, when at last the secret was discovered, prove to be a frankenstein monster of titanic power, wreaking untold destruction on the world? a thin, keen-faced man sat facing the british prime minister in his private room in downing street a few days later. this was clinton scott, one of the smartest men of the british secret service, a man of wide culture and uncanny knowledge of the underworld of international crime. his profession was the detection of crime; his hobby science in any form. "we have very disturbing news, scott," said the prime minister, "and i have sent for you because the problem before us is largely of a scientific nature and i know all about your hobby." clinton scott smiled. "you are aware, of course, of the latest developments in the search for some method of releasing and controlling atomic forces," went on the prime minister. "i do not profess to understand them deeply myself, but i have a general idea of what is being done and what success would imply. professor rudford, to whom i applied for information on the subject, tells me that such a discovery would revolutionise world conditions. you will understand of your own knowledge all that it implies, and that is why i have sent specially for you in this matter." "i am at the country's service," replied scott. "now information we have received from norway suggests very strongly that the problem has been solved," the other said. "we have no details--nothing in fact very definite at all. but it is certain that some very queer things have been happening. and from what professor rudford tells me i am assured that we cannot afford to neglect them. our ordinary men are useless for this kind of thing. men with a considerable knowledge of scientific subjects are absolutely necessary. otherwise matter which, properly understood, would be full of significance will be passed over as of no account and quite minor and unessential incidents will be followed up, and there would be serious waste of time. and time is valuable." "i agree that it is," was the terse reply. "i want you to go to norway and look into the matter," the prime minister went on. "of course i will see that you get all the information we have, and you can select your own assistants." clinton scott suddenly looked grave. "is it known at all?" he asked. "who is behind this--i mean who has made this discovery? you will appreciate my reason for asking. if it is the work of a genuine man of science there would be no immediate danger, though of course such an invention would upset all ideas of international relations. it is literally true, as no doubt professor rudford will have told you, that the nation in exclusive possession of such a secret could dominate the world. but there are one or two men in the world who, with such a secret in their possession, would be a real peril to civilisation." "do you know a man named lenart gronvold?" asked the premier. clinton scott started visibly. "do you mean to say he is in it?" he gasped in utter astonishment. it was the premier's turn to be surprised. "why--who is he?" he asked. "professor rudford had never even heard his name and laughed when i suggested that he could have had anything to do with it." "he won't laugh when he gets some real idea of gronvold's ability," said scott bitterly. "the man is one of the mysteries of the world of crime," he went on. "exactly who he is we don't know--i mean we know little about his life. but we believe he is norwegian born, though he has strong russian characteristics. we know he studied at leipzig. tutors who knew him well speak with the utmost admiration of his amazing brain power as a student and the daring of his conceptions. but for some reason he never did well in examinations and attracted no attention whatever outside a very limited circle. personally, i believe that for some strange reason he deliberately elected not to call attention to himself, for there is not the slightest doubt that he could with ease have captured every honour the university had to bestow. after leaving leipzig he disappeared for some years. i don't know how he spent them. but i do know that he is a chemist of amazing ability. he has, moreover, been mixed up with a number of puzzling international crimes, though we have never been able to bring any of them home to him. do you remember the big bank robbery at liverpool three years ago?" the premier nodded. "you mean," he said, "when the bank vaults were blown open with dynamite and half a million in gold stolen?" "that's the case," said scott. "only it wasn't dynamite, there was no explosion. the thick steel and stone walls of the vaulted safe had been melted through as if they had been butter. the story of an explosion was deliberately given out to deceive the thieves. but the fact is that some process was used of which we have no knowledge whatever." and he paused, then went on: "now i am pretty sure gronvold was in that. i was called in before anything had been touched. and in one corner i picked up a scrap of paper bearing some queer formulae of which i could make nothing. it had evidently been dropped by accident. and it bore gronvold's name. moreover, as i ascertained by a visit to leipzig, where i saw some of the old university registers, it was in his handwriting. but where he is, how he got into england, how the burglary was effected and how he got away with such an enormous weight of gold we never could make out. if he is really in this new discovery we are face to face with a terrible problem. the man is absolutely without scruple, and for three years he has had the use of half a million of money for his experiments. he may have done anything in that time." "but how did you know of him?" asked the premier. "it's a queer story," replied the other. "simmons, one of our men in christiansand came across, quite by accident, a drunken norwegian sailor who told a strange story of the blowing up of a mountain by a tiny cartridge placed at the bottom of an old mine shaft. he actually mentioned gronvold's name, and claimed to have been one of his assistants. when he became sober he was evidently terribly alarmed at having talked, and denied the whole story. the same day he disappeared, and simmons has been unable to trace him." he went on after a pause: "now the blowing up of a mountain is a fact. a hill nearly a thousand feet high in a wild lonely district north-east of tonstad has absolutely disappeared--levelled out. to have done the work by ordinary means would have meant years of labour and would have cost a fortune. there can be no doubt that some entirely new force has been employed. officially the occurrence is attributed to a landslide; actually it is and can be nothing of the kind. now this, coupled with what the norwegian sailor said, suggests that we ought to look into the matter. whether the norwegian government knows anything about it i do not know, and the matter would be of such importance from the international point of view that we cannot make direct inquiries." "will you take it in hand?" asked the premier. "whom will you get to help you? i am afraid the ordinary men would be of very little use." "i think i will run over to paris and see regnier," replied scott. "he has a fellow named manton who will certainly be useful. he was in our flying corps and was invalided out owing to wounds. he has done some wonderful work and has an entirely new type of aeroplane which he invented and which, by the way, our people would have nothing to do with. regnier swears by him. he works always with a french girl named yvette pasquet, who did some splendid intelligence work during the war, and her brother jules. they will have nothing to do with anyone else when they are on a case, and they have had some amazing results." crossing to paris by the afternoon air express scott the same evening was warmly greeted by regnier. he rapidly explained his visit. regnier looked grave. "i have heard of the man," he said, "but have never seen him, i don't think in a case like this you can do better than manton. he is very well up in all these scientific things; they seem to be a perfect craze with him." an hour later, regnier, scott, dick manton, yvette, and jules were closely discussing the problem in manton's rooms. "we have got to find that sailor," was dick's verdict, "and luck is going to have a good deal to do with it. i suppose simmons is on the look out for him?" "yes," replied scott, "i wired him at once." "do you think gronvold and the sailor have quarrelled?" put in yvette. "i think not," was scott's reply. "if they had there seems no reason for the man's alarm. i think he calculated on going back to him. that was simmons' view, too." dick, who had been carefully studying a map, looked up. "just look here," he said, "you could hide an army in this place." the map was in contour and gave a vivid impression of the wild and desolate country, a broken mass of hills and lakes, stretching north and east from tonstad. "suppose gronvold is there," said dick, "he could hide anything he wanted to. i don't think he would have travelled far from its base to blow up the hill--that was probably experimental. my idea is that he has established his laboratory somewhere in the hills about there. there is no population and little or no traffic through the district. he must send to one of the towns for supplies, and christiansand is the most likely. i should guess that the sailor had come there for that purpose and may come again." "he did not leave the town by boat," declared scott. "simmons made the most careful inquiries on all the boats in the harbour and no one of his description was seen." three tourists a week later were lodged in a comfortable hotel in the dronningens gade, one of the principal streets in the busy port of christiansand. they were yvette, jules, and scott. dick had flown the mohawk direct to the wild district north-east of tonstad, and with the help of a light tent had pitched a camp in a little wood a couple of miles from the southern edge of the blown-up hill. he had taken pains in the selection of a suitable place and his camp and the mohawk were so admirably hidden that they were safe from discovery, unless some one actually walked right up to them, a contingency which in that roadless, unpopulated country was extremely unlikely. but though hidden himself he commanded a wide view. for two days dick devoted himself to a thorough examination of the surrounding country, quartering it thoroughly either on foot or in the mohawk. he could however see nothing in the least suspicious. then came a surprise. his only method of receiving news from the others was to "listen in" on the wireless telegraph set with which the mohawk was fitted for messages which, directed to an address in england, were handed to the christiansand radio station for dispatch, but were really intended for him. these messages were handed in at eight o'clock precisely and dick usually got them within half an hour. on the third day of his watch came the message: "sailor located. travelling north with pack mules. we follow. osterluis road." the man, as he was to learn later, had been spotted by yvette in christiansand. she had seen him leave a small cafe much frequented by sailors, and had been struck by his likeness to the description given by simmons. she had followed him for some time while he made a variety of purchases at numerous shops, and had been struck by the fact that a mere sailor should evidently have such a large sum of money at his disposal. luckily she had encountered simmons, who at once recognised the man and had promptly disappeared to avoid arousing his suspicions. yvette was able to learn that all the man's purchases were being delivered to a small inn on the outskirts of the town, and a few inquiries showed that he had four mules stationed there. the matter began now to clear up. they were sure of the man; at least he could not leave without his mules and stores. jules and scott took up the watch at the inn, while yvette shadowed the suspect. it was thought best that simmons should not appear. it soon became evident that the man had no associates in christiansand. all he did was to visit shops, paying cash for all his purchases and having them sent to the inn where his mules were stabled. the next day, with his mules heavily loaded, he set out from christiansand, taking the road to trygstand and ostersluis. yvette, jules, and scott decided to follow him on foot. to have taken horses would have told him he was being followed as soon as he left the road, as they were pretty sure he would, sooner or later. luckily all three were splendid walkers and felt they would have no trouble in keeping up with the heavily-laden mules. cramming a few necessities into rucksacks they were soon on the track of their quarry. man and mules made steady progress. they were soon through trygstand and, shortly after, caught sight of the mohawk high above them and evidently following the road on the watch for them. with a handkerchief tied to a stick yvette swiftly signalled to dick the brief facts, and the mohawk passed on towards christiansand. when the sailor and the mules were hidden in a dip in the road dick landed, and all four held a brief consultation as to their future plans. as a result scott put on his best speed and soon passed the sailor who had stopped for a rest. the man was now between two parties on the ground and under observation from dick from the air. he certainly could not escape. a few miles beyond trygstand he suddenly left the high road, and turned westward and north across the open country. evidently he was not bound for ostersluis. but where could he be going? for miles there was not even a house in the deserted track of country into which he had plunged. but it was evident he knew his bearings thoroughly. hour after hour he jogged along, and soon the pursuers realised that they had been wise not to bring horses. no horse could have crossed the country over which the sure-footed mules went swiftly without a stagger. at nightfall the man camped. apparently he paid no attention to the passing of the aeroplane, for he barely glanced at it. building a small fire under the shelter of a rock, the three pursuers spent a comfortless night. dick had flown to his camp, intending to pick the party up again at dawn. early next morning the man was afoot and continued his journey. he was now in the wild country well to the west of ostersluis, and travelling due north. yvette, jules, and scott were a mile behind, following with the utmost care not to reveal their presence and so rouse the man's suspicions. they had gone but a few miles when the man paused on the flat top of a high hill, which on the side away from them sloped steeply into a deep gorge at the foot of which ran a small stream. they watched him narrowly. with great care he got the four mules together, standing side by side. he himself took up a position directly in front of them and almost touching the animals' heads. a moment later man and mules sank together, apparently into the earth and disappeared! they could hardly believe their eyes! surely the man must have gone down the reverse slope of the hill. but they were confident that he had not moved. they hurried to the spot. not a sign of any living thing was to be seen! the mystery was profound. while they stood gazing at one another in speechless amazement, the mohawk, which they had not perceived above them, dropped vertically downwards and landed a few yards away. dick sprang out. "did you see?" he gasped. "the man and mules went down into some sort of pit. but where was it?" the flat top of the hill was broken into a series of narrow cracks; apparently the rock of which it was composed was of volcanic origin. they examined it closely, but they could discover nothing which offered a solution of the mystery. dick described closely what he had seen from the sky. it agreed with what the others had observed. the man had got the mules together, and all had sunk slowly downward. dick had seen the black mouth of the pit for a few moments and a blaze of light. then the pit had disappeared, and the ground resumed its normal appearance. "we shall have to camp here to-night," said dick. "we must get to the bottom of this. we shall have to take turns to watch. in the meantime we had better have a look round." having closely examined the top of the hill, they turned to the deep gorge and descended to the bottom. the stream, they found, issued from the hill itself, flowing out from a low tunnel high enough to admit the passage of a man. from it also issued a cloud of mist which spread over the bottom of the little valley in a thick blanket which completely concealed the surface of the ground from anyone at the top of the hill. but still more remarkable was that the bed of the little stream was deeply covered with what appeared to be recently melted lava. in many places it was still hot, and the water, they found, was nearly boiling. the first traces of this were found at the mouth of the tunnel from which the stream emerged, and for hundreds of yards the molten rock could be traced, as though it had poured from the tunnel and flowed down the bed of the brook. wood and water were available in abundance, and soon they had pitched their camp, near enough to the top of the mysterious hill to enable them to watch it closely and yet well concealed so that if the man reappeared they would have no difficulty in escaping observation. the first watch fell to yvette, and with a revolver ready for instant use, she prepared to spend a couple of lonely hours on the edge of the hill. the camp was but a quarter of a mile away so that a shot would bring her speedy help at any time. a brilliant moon lit up the country for miles. there was no trace of any living thing. everything was still and silent. yvette had been on watch about an hour when she became aware that the air was full of a dull murmur of sound. she listened intently. there was no mistake about it. a dull throbbing noise was distinctly discernible. she walked round the flat top of the hill, looking keenly in every direction and trying to locate the position from which the mysterious sound was coming. but it was in vain. glancing into the gorge, she saw a strange and terrible phenomenon. the course of the little brook was traced in a dull fiery glow. clouds of steam were rising thickly into the night air; she could plainly hear the sharp hiss of water on something hot. she ran swiftly down the hill. at the bottom she paused on the edge of the stream. the water had disappeared and in its place ran a river of molten rock! through her boots she felt the heat of the ground. returning to the top of the hill she waited for dick, who was now almost due to relieve her. in a few moments he appeared and listened in amazement as she gasped out her story. the dull, throbbing noise was still audible. "machinery," said dick laconically, "but where?" suddenly he flung himself on his face, and pressed his ear close to the ground. "listen," he said. yvette followed his example. there could be no mistake; the mysterious sound was coming from the ground beneath their feet! the earth was full of muffled thunder. dick took from his pocket a hammer and struck a sharp blow on the flat rock beneath their feet. it rang hollow! unmistakably they were standing on the roof of a cavern. walking to the camp they roused the others and told them what they had seen and heard. "we have got to catch that sailor if we wait here a month," said scott. "he must come out again some time. but how about food?" "we have enough tinned stuff in the mohawk for a week," said dick, "so we shall be all right for a few days. in the meantime we must watch the place closely." next day passed without incident until evening was drawing on. then yvette, who was watching the top of the hill while the others rested, at six o'clock gave a low whistle. she was lying on the ground keeping observation between a couple of rocks which hid her completely. in a moment the others had crawled to her side. "look!" she said. on the top of the hill, three hundred yards away, stood the sailor and the four mules, clearly silhouetted against the evening glow. he had appeared suddenly, yvette told them, just on the spot where he had disappeared on the previous day. "we must get him," said dick. the man with the mules started to return along the way he had come. they saw at once that the path he was taking would bring him close to them. with the mules unloaded the man evidently had no intention of walking. he mounted one of the animals and rode towards them at a fast trot. he was within twenty yards when dick aimed his revolver and fired. the mule the man was riding bolted, throwing its rider heavily. before he could recover himself he was bound and helpless. the other three mules stampeded wildly and were soon out of sight. carried to the camp the man soon recovered. but he resolutely refused to say a word. "well," said dick. "we must try to get into the cave. perhaps the tunnel out of which the brook runs will lead us to it." they were soon at the mouth of the strange tunnel. there was no sign of the molten matter of the previous night. the stream, thick with mud, flowed sluggishly, but the water was cool, and the ground, which the night before had been too hot to walk upon, was now not more than uncomfortably warm. with dick leading, scott and yvette next in order, and jules bringing up the rear they entered the mouth of the tunnel. there was, they found, just room for them to pass, stooping low and walking knee deep in the little stream. they were, of course, in total darkness, for dick was afraid to show a light for fear of betraying their presence. for a hundred yards dick groped his way onward. then his outstretched hands struck something soft. it was a kind of curtain hung across the stream, thick and heavy. cautiously he slightly raised one corner and peered through. the sight that struck his eyes filled them with amazement. they were at the entrance to an enormous chamber, a hundred and fifty yards across, dimly lighted by a single big electric lamp, the only one alight out of dozens which hung from the roof. the floor sloped steeply upwards at the far end where they could make out a kind of platform, reaching nearly to the roof and with steps leading downward into the great hall. all round the side were a series of openings, apparently small chambers cut into the solid rock. from one of these the stream they had followed seemed to issue, crossing the floor of the great cave in a narrow deep channel. but what fascinated dick's attention was a great table, apparently of iron, which occupied the centre of the cave. it was heavily constructed and seemed to be based on massive legs which went down into the rock. upon it stood a strange machine unlike anything he had ever seen before and of the use of which he could not form the smallest idea. surmounted by two huge governor balls, it was a complicated mass of polished wheels, of some metal which dick could not identify, and which gleamed with a strange radiance in the light of the huge electric lamp overhead. from the machine a bewildering mass of wires led to a series of points at the face of the rock. so much dick could make out in the dim light. he was keenly anxious to learn more. but how was it to be done? no sign of any human being was to be seen, but he could not imagine that what lay before their eyes was the work of the solitary sailor who now lay bound in their camp. at any rate they could not remain where they were. dick decided to try to gain entrance to one of the wall chambers where they could shelter with a better chance of seeing what would happen in this underground home of mystery. but which should they choose? some of the chambers were half-way to the roof and were reached by steps cut in the solid rock. dick decided on one of these not far from where they were standing. they crept cautiously from their hiding-place and stole along to the bottom of the cave. a moment later they were at the foot of the steps. these they hastily climbed, and soon found themselves in a fair-sized cave, fifteen or sixteen feet above the floor of the main cavern and commanding a good view of the entire area. it was dry and warm and formed an ideal post of observation, provided their presence remained undiscovered. suddenly a blaze of light struck their eyes. some one had turned on the whole of the electric lamps which hung in clusters from the roof. peering cautiously out they saw, to their amazement, half a dozen men issue from different chambers near the floor of the cave. all wore big round spectacles of deep blue glass and were clothed in close-fitting garments of rubber, with heavy gauntletted gloves of the same material. apparently they could not see well, for the spectacles must have been almost impervious to ordinary light. one of the men, fixing his spectacles on more firmly and, drawing his rubber overall more closely around him, approached the strange machine which stood on the table. the others proceeded to the points at which the wires from the machine reached the side of the cave. here they took up some kind of tool which looked like a gigantic blowpipe and stood ready as if awaiting a signal. a low whistle sounded from the man at the table, as he grasped a small wheel and gave it a quick turn. an instant later an appalling blaze of light burst from the strange machine, and the cave was filled with a roar of sound, a terrible deep drone of such frightful intensity that the hidden watchers shuddered as if with actual physical agony. dick felt the sweat start suddenly from his forehead and pour down his face. anxiously he glanced towards yvette. she lay with her face buried in her arms, her body trembling convulsively. scott and jules, their faces white as chalk, were gazing at the unearthly light which streamed from the whirling machine, shading their eyes with their hands to shelter them from its blinding radiance. they could not look at it for more than a few seconds; it was like trying to gaze at the sun at midday. taking a letter from his pocket, dick bored a tiny hole in it with his scarf pin. through this hole he found he could see in comparative comfort. he signed to the others to do the same, and soon all four--for yvette quickly recovered her self-possession--were eagerly watching the strange scene before them. speech, in the deafening noise by which they were surrounded, was, of course, out of the question. the man at the great table in the centre of the cavern evidently had a task of great difficulty to control the movements of the strange machine, which he seemed to do by means of a large wheel something like the steering wheel of a steamer. long streamers of flame shot from it in all directions, and as its mass of wheels revolved at terrific speed it shook and trembled as if it would actually leap from the table. in the meantime the men at the rock face were hard at work with big blowpipes, from the muzzles of which shot streams of fire of such intensity that the solid rock seemed to melt away like butter. the molten matter was led by ducts in the ground through a grid of some metal, evidently highly refractory to heat, for it appeared to do no more than glow white-hot even in the terrific temperature of the melted rock. after passing through this grid the molten matter was led to the bed of the stream, from which the water had in some manner been cut off, and flowed out the way dick and his companions had entered. what was the object of the work? dick could not guess, but every now and again one of the men would walk to the grid and with a long implement shaped like a hoe would scrape off something adhering to the bars, which he deposited in a big tank of water. dick determined that, sooner or later, he would obtain a specimen. but in the meantime their position was decidedly precarious. if they were observed there was no possible way of escape, for the tunnel by which they had entered was barred by the stream of molten matter. they could only lie still and hope that no one would enter the gallery in which they lay concealed. after two hours of work, the man at the table stopped the machine, and all the men straightened out for a rest. evidently they were very much exhausted. the lights were extinguished, except for the single one which was burning when they entered, and the men returned to their quarters, evidently almost falling with weariness. dick came to the conclusion that they could only carry on the work on which they were engaged for a short time and that after that sleep and rest were imperative. the flow of molten metal had stopped and the water was again allowed to flow along its ordinary channel, from whence it sent up huge clouds of dense steam. this gave dick his chance. sending the others to the mouth of the exit, he cautiously crept towards the tank in which were deposited the scrapings from the grid which filtered the molten rock. he reached it safely, and plunging in his arm up to the shoulder, abstracted a couple of handfuls of what seemed like heavy shot. these he placed at once in his pocket. he was about to return to the others when his attention was caught by the queer platform at the one end of the cave. looking at this carefully he found that it was really a huge lift, and at once the mysterious disappearance of the sailor and the mules was explained. it was evident that the top of the lift was really the thin covering of rock which had sounded hollow when tapped and that this had been so cut that when the lift forced it into position only traces of ragged crevices were left on the surface. dick could not but admire the ingenuity with which this approach to the subterranean retreat had been devised. presently he heard a heavy knocking above his head and, guessing the cause, shrank back for shelter into the mouth of a small cave adjoining. a moment later a man emerged from one of the other chambers and approached the lift. dick was curious to see how it worked. there was, as he could see, a small electric motor fitted to it, but where could the necessary power come from? the new-comer carried in his hand a tiny machine which was in every respect a duplicate in miniature of the big one on the central table. but it was so small that the man carried it easily in one hand. from it ran a pair of electric cables which the man proceeded to connect with the terminals of the motor. placing the machine on the ground he gave the wheel a sharp turn. immediately the tiny machine began to revolve, throwing out flashes and flames exactly like the larger one but on a miniature scale. clearly, however, there was considerable power in it, for the lift at once commenced to descend. on it stood a man whom dick instantly recognised as gronvold. and he was accompanied by the sailor whom dick had left safely tied up in their camp. evidently gronvold had found and released him. their position was now indeed one of terrible gravity. as soon as the lift reached the bottom the two men stepped off and the lift reascended, moving upward with an ease which showed the tremendous power developed by the tiny machine. here, indeed, was something of which dick had had no previous experience. the three men crossed the cave to the shelter occupied by the man who worked the big machine, who was evidently the captain, and dick knew there was no time to be lost. directly the men entered the shelter, dick dashed across the cave to join the others, snatching out his revolver as he ran. he had nearly reached them, when a whistle blew and instantly half a dozen men rushed from different caves. they were discovered! "take care of yvette, jules!" dick yelled as, with scott at his side, he faced round to the men who were rushing at them from three sides. instantly yvette and jules plunged into the tunnel. dick and scott backed after them with drawn revolvers threatening the men in the cave. for a moment the leaders hesitated; apparently they were not aimed. then gronvold rushed to the front, followed by the captain, both carrying curious weapons which looked like heavy pistols. all four men fired simultaneously. dick saw the captain drop, evidently shot dead, and heard a bullet whiz past him and strike the rock behind. a burst of flame singed his hair, and he felt the hot breath of it on his face. then gronvold fired at scott. the effect as the bullet struck him was strange and awful. his body actually disappeared in a mass of flame under the impact of some projectile of unimaginable power and energy. at the same instant dick slipped on a projecting bit of rock and fell heavily on his head. as he lost consciousness he heard the crack of a revolver behind him. yvette and jules, hearing the shots, had returned in the nick of time. jules snatched up dick and carried him down the tunnel, while yvette very coolly shot down gronvold just as he was reloading his terrible weapon. when dick recovered his senses he found himself lying on the ground at the entrance to the tunnel, his head pillowed on yvette's arm as she tried to pour some brandy between his lips. he could feel the sobs which shook her, and even felt a tear on his face. jules stood on guard at the entrance to the tunnel, his revolver ready for instant action in case of pursuit. as dick opened his eyes, yvette gave a gasp of relief. "oh, dearest, i thought you were dead!" she sobbed and burst into tears. a moment later she turned away blushing scarlet. she had betrayed her secret at last. and even in his confused state dick felt a thrill of triumphant joy. his head spinning he staggered to his feet. but he would have fallen if yvette had not caught him. "sit down, dick," she said peremptorily. "jules can look after this place." dick obeyed, perforce; he was so sick and giddy that he could have done nothing even if the expected attack had come. but it never came. suddenly as they stood there, tense and waiting, a terrific convulsion shook the earth. with a terrible roar the great cavern collapsed and a vast burst of smoke and flame vomited to the sky, and a deep crater was left by the subsidence. sick and dizzy, with showers of stones falling all around them, they stood aghast while explosion after explosion rent the air, rendering the crater deeper. it was some minutes before quiet reigned again and, white and shaken, after their nerve-racking experience, they were able to collect their shaken faculties and make an examination of the scene. the hill beneath which the cavern was located had practically disappeared; in its place was left nothing but a heap of torn and tumbled earth and rock. its dreadful secret was safe, for the cave and its contents, and the men who had wielded such titanic forces, were buried deep under tens of thousands of tons of debris. perhaps it was as well, dick thought. there are some forms of knowledge which mortals ought not to possess; there are some powers which they are not fit to handle. whatever secret gronvold had discovered, it rested with him for ever on the very scene of his ill-omened labours. what had gone wrong in the depths of the cavern they could not even imagine, but it was evident that the mysterious force which gronvold had called into existence, whatever it was, had destroyed him and his companions. and it was almost by a miracle that dick, yvette, and jules had escaped. slowly and painfully they made their way back to their camp, and for the first time dick became conscious of the great weight of the double handful of shot which he had taken from the tank. he drew some of it out and examined it by the light of the fire. as he did so he gave a cry of surprise. for the "shot" was nothing more or less than tiny nuggets of virgin gold. here was an addition to the mystery. as dick knew perfectly well, there was not an atom of gold-bearing rock within hundreds of miles of where they stood. it was evident that one of the secrets of gronvold's invention was that it gave him the power of actually bringing about the transmutation of substances. there was some element in the rock which was susceptible of being changed into gold by a process at which they could not even guess. but if this were so, gronvold had indeed, as they suspected, been able to solve the problem of loosing the incredible force contained in the atom. his discovery was, as dick at once realised, on the lines of the latest development of scientific thought. dick was to see the problem solved in later years by more reputable investigators. but he could never forget his strange encounter with the wonderful but misguided genius whose career had been so terribly brought to an end by the dread power he had himself evoked. chapter six. the horror of lockie. many readers will recall the tragedy of renstoke castle and the terrible death of young lord renstoke. the case aroused much sensation at the time. it would have aroused far more had the real facts been allowed to transpire. they were known, however, to only a few people, and, for reasons which were at the time sufficient, they were kept secret. i am now able to lift the veil which shrouded one of the most perplexing mysteries which has ever puzzled the scientific world. even now, the story is not complete; the great secret died with the amazing but perverted genius who discovered it. lord renstoke, a young man only thirty, was one of those favoured individuals on whom fortune seemed to have showered all her gifts. born and brought up in canada, he was connected only very remotely with the ancient family of renstoke, and no one ever dreamed that he could by any possibility succeed to the title, which carried with it renstoke castle and a rent-roll of something like a hundred thousand pounds a year. james mitchell, as lord renstoke was before he succeeded to the title, had left a lumber camp in upper canada when the call of the great war brought britishers from all the wild places of the world to join the colours. he served as a private in one of the canadian regiments, rapidly winning his way upward, and finally being awarded the victoria cross for a piece of dare-devil folly--so his comrades declared--that had led to the capture of an important german position and had helped very materially to bring about one of the most brilliant of the many successes scored by the canadians in the closing stages of the fighting. that episode seemed to mark the turning-point in the fortunes of james mitchell. from then onward it seemed as though fate had no gifts that were too good to be showered upon him. it was only a few weeks later that the obscure canadian private was summoned to headquarters to receive the astounding intelligence that through a series of deaths that in fiction would have been deemed fantastic, he was a peer of the united kingdom with a vast fortune at his disposal. then james mitchell, baron renstoke, went back to his trenches and the comrades he had learned to love to finish the work on hand. it was during the latter half of the war that james mitchell found himself swept by chance into the strange web of mystery and adventure that surrounded the doings of yvette pasquet and dick manton. he had been detailed, quite privately and "unofficially," to help yvette in one of her achievements, and the clever french girl had been quick to recognise in him an assistant of more than ordinary ability. yvette was one of those rare people who never forget, and so there came about a gradual friendship which included dick manton and jules pasquet. yvette rejoiced unfeignedly when, after the armistice, she learned of mitchell's good fortune. the friendship continued and ripened, and yvette, jules, and dick manton were staying at renstoke castle when a terrible stroke of malign fate cut short a career of brilliant promise and brought an ancient lineage to an end. renstoke castle was a wonderful old house in argyllshire, and james mitchell, now lord renstoke, was surely one of the favoured of the gods! over six feet in height, strikingly handsome and of superb physique, wealthy and with great charm of manner, there seemed to be nothing to which he could not aspire. despite the surroundings of his early years he had been well educated for his father, though only a canadian farmer, had been a man of considerable culture and learning, and had seen that his son, who inherited his own intellectual gifts, had been well taught. only the spirit of adventure had led him at twenty-one into the wild places of the world, where he saw existence from many angles, and in a rough outdoor life had brought to perfection physical powers which had been remarkable even in boyhood. he was now the last of the renstokes. but he was still young. no one dreamed but that he would marry and that the ancient line would be continued. then the blow fell! through the late summer a series of mysterious attacks had been made on live stock throughout the western portion of argyllshire. sheep, and even deer, had been attacked, evidently by some unusually powerful animal. sheep worrying, of course, is not an uncommon vice among dogs, and when the outbreak first started little was thought of the matter. the local farmers and shepherds merely began to watch their dogs more closely than usual. but the outbreaks continued, more and more sheep were killed, and at length the losses became so heavy that drastic steps were taken. for thirty miles around, not a dog was permitted off the chain after dusk. bands of men armed with guns, with instructions to shoot any dog on sight, patrolled the country-side by day and night. it was all in vain. sheep continued to perish under the teeth of the mysterious prowler, and even the smaller deer, in spite of their speed, began to fall victims. the farmers were at their wits' ends when the mystery was suddenly lifted into the region of unadulterated horror. alan macpherson, a young gamekeeper, had been one of a number of men who, stretched out into a line a couple of miles long, had set out at nightfall to search a lonely piece of moorland in which it was thought the strange animal might be hiding. the line of men had gone forward on a prearranged plan for five or six miles and then "pivoted" on the right hand man, swung round and marched homeward, concentrating finally at a big farm known as kelsie, where the losses had been very serious. the men, of course, knew the country thoroughly, and similar manoeuvres had been many times repeated without mishap. always the last man of the line had turned up within a few minutes of the prearranged time. on this occasion macpherson was on the extreme left wheel and, having farthest to go, should have been the last man home. no one was uneasy when it was found he was a few minutes late; he was armed and knew the country like the palm of his hand. but when the minutes slipped by without news his companions began to be anxious. three hours passed, and, at length, a search party was hastily formed. two hours later macpherson's body was found lying terribly mangled beside a big rock on the slope of a small tor. his gun, still loaded, was only three feet away. beside the body lay a filled pipe and a box of matches. evidently the man had laid down his gun to light his pipe and had been suddenly attacked and killed before he could raise a hand to defend himself. a few minutes later, lord renstoke, yvette, dick manton, and jules were on the scene. though all were familiar with the ghastly sights of war, they found themselves in the presence of a horror which overbore all their previous experiences. renstoke, whose experience abroad had made him familiar with many wild animals quite unknown to the others, examined the body carefully. at length he rose from his knees with a horrified expression in his eyes, and gave brief orders for the removal of the body to the unfortunate man's home to await the inquest. but it was not until they had returned to the castle that he spoke of what he had seen. and his first words gave his comrades a terrible shock. "no dog did that!" he said quietly, but in a tone of intense conviction. "whatever do you mean, renstoke?" asked dick quickly. "what else could have done it? there are no lions or tigers about here, you know." "are you sure?" replied renstoke. "i think we shall have to see erckmann about this." boris erckmann, he went on to explain, was a famous zoologist who lived in a big lonely house on the renstoke estate some ten miles away. he had spent many years in wandering explorations in tropical countries and was known in the inner circles of science as a man of brilliant attainments. he did not advertise himself, however, living the life of a recluse, and to the general public his name meant nothing. among his highland neighbours, a dour people who concerned themselves very little with the affairs of other folk, little notice was taken of him. he lived at lockie, a big house surmounted by a high wall and perched on a gaunt hill-side overlooking a lonely glen. among his neighbours, who guessed nothing of his wonderful abilities, erckmann passed for a harmless scientist and was affable and good-natured to those he chanced to meet during his incessant pilgrimages over the wide moorland which stretched for many miles around lockie. "erckmann is said to have a lot of wild animals at lockie," renstoke went on to explain, "and it is possible that one of them may have broken loose. i am perfectly certain macpherson was not killed by a dog." "but what makes you so certain?" dick questioned. "so far as i could see any big dog could have done it." "did you ever see a dog with hands, dick?" asked renstoke quietly. his hearers started simultaneously with a gasp of horror. "whatever do you mean?" they asked. "just this," lord renstoke replied. "he was not killed by a dog at all. as you saw, the front of his throat was badly torn. but on the back of his neck were two distinct bruises, one on each side and nearly meeting, which suggested the mark of two thumbs, as if he had been seized from behind by two hands which clasped his neck. now, no dog could have done that. moreover no dog could have killed him so quickly that he never had a chance either to fight for his life or to call for help. remember, he was an extremely powerful man and his nearest neighbour in the line was scarcely more than a hundred yards away. he was killed so suddenly and so swiftly that he had no time even to shout. i have seen many men who had been killed by wolves, bears, and cougars, but never one who had not made a fight for his life." "but what could it have been?" asked yvette in a horrified whisper. "there is only one animal in the world that could have done it," replied renstoke, "and that is a gorilla. you know the strength of the gorilla compared with that of a man is enormous. it has enormously powerful hands and teeth. a man seized unawares, as macpherson must have been, would be dead in a few seconds; he wouldn't have the smallest chance either to defend himself or to shout. and i happen to know, though it is not generally known, that erckmann actually has a gorilla at lockie. i am going over to see him after the inquest and i mean to see the gorilla as well. erckmann is a tenant of mine, though, as it happens, i have never seen him. "but there is one thing that puzzles me," renstoke went on after a pause. "the sheep-killing has been going on for several months, and i don't see where such an animal as a gorilla, assuming that it has been at large for so long, can have been hidden without being seen. but, of course, the country is very wild and there are some big woods that may have screened it during the daytime." "what are you going to say at the inquest?" dick asked abruptly. "nothing at all until i know a lot more," answered renstoke deliberately. "remember, we don't know anything positively yet. i am only giving you my personal opinion." all agreed that renstoke's plan was best. but they had yet to learn how far the appalling reality outstripped the horror of their suppositions. the inquest, held the following afternoon, was almost formal. there was no real evidence, of course, as to how the unfortunate man was killed, and what amounted to an open verdict was found. neither the doctor who examined the body, nor the detectives from glasgow who made every possible inquiry, struck the chain of reasoning which had led renstoke to his strange theory, and it was generally assumed that macpherson had been killed by some ferocious dog which had been lurking unseen for months in the wild country around renstoke. next morning all four started for lockie. erckmann's house, though only ten miles away in a direct line, was at least thirty by road, and as the day was fine they decided to motor for about five miles, leave the car, and walk across country for the remainder of the distance. it was this decision which led them to the first strange clue in the solution of the terrible mystery. at the point where they left the car, the road, which had been leading westward, made an abrupt turn at the summit of a desolate hill, and stretched away southward as far as they could see. their destination was further west, and as dick ran the car on to the grass at the side of the road, they prepared for their tramp. they had walked some four miles over rough heather-clad country when renstoke pointed to a big building a mile away and facing the top of the steep rise they had just breasted. "that is lockie?" he said. for the most part, the country was dry. below them, however, was a shallow valley, along the bottom of which a rippling burn wound its way. descending the hill they crossed the brook and soon found themselves at a tiny bridge beside the only gateway they could see in the high stone wall, surmounted by a formidable barrier of barbed iron, which surrounded the building. in response to renstoke's knock the door was opened by an ill-favoured individual, evidently a foreigner, who stared at them in blank surprise. "i want to see mr erckmann; is he at home?" renstoke demanded. the man made some reply in a language which neither of them understood. renstoke repeated his question. turning to a telephone which stood on a small table in the lodge the man spoke a few words. a moment later he signed to them to enter and conducted them to the entrance door of the big house. as they approached a big, powerfully built man, heavily bearded and wearing round horn spectacles, met them on the steps of the front door. renstoke bowed courteously. "mr erckmann?" he inquired. "yes, i am mr erckmann," was the reply. "what can i do for you?" renstoke as briefly as possible explained what had happened. erckmann listened patiently and carefully. only at the end of the story, when renstoke told him quite frankly his suspicions, the man's eyes hardened ominously and his lips tightened under his heavy grey moustache. "yes, i have a gorilla," he admitted. "but if you suggest that it has escaped you are quite wrong. it has never left its cage since it was brought here, quite young, six years ago. it would be a bad thing for some one if it did," he added. "may we see it?" asked renstoke quietly. "yes--if you doubt my word," snapped the scientist. he was evidently, for some reason, much annoyed and was controlling himself with obvious difficulty. during the conversation dick had once or twice glanced at yvette and was surprised at the fixity of the gaze she directed at erckmann. she was regarding him almost as if fascinated, with every sign of horror and apprehension. without further words erckmann led the way through a small paddock to a row of cages, heavily barred with iron, which stood at the rear of the house. before one of the strongest he halted. "there you are," he said grimly. inside the cage, erect on its hind legs, stood an enormous ape, shackled by a huge chain round its neck to a heavy stake driven into the ground. nearly seven feet high, it was so horribly repulsive in its perverted likeness to humanity, that yvette, dick, and jules turned away sick with disgust and horror. it snarled and chattered at the sight of the strangers. renstoke, however, carefully examined the monster. but he soon realised that this creature had certainly not been at large, at any rate for some considerable time. the clue had failed. whatever the truth might be it was clear the gorilla could have had no part in the terrible tragedy of alan macpherson. "a wonderful specimen," said renstoke, turning to erckmann. "have you had him long?" "about six years," the scientist replied. "would you like to see what it can do?" without waiting for a reply, he spoke softly to the raging beast in some language the others did not understand. instantly the brute calmed down, shuffled to the bars of the cage and laid its head on the ground close to where erckmann was standing. it was just as though a dog were fawning on its master. erckmann fearlessly thrust a hand between the bars and scratched the repulsive head while the great ape lay with closed eyes evidently in keen enjoyment of the sensation. still talking quietly in the strange language, erckmann put the beast through a number of tricks which it performed, clumsily, of course, but with obvious understanding of what was required of it. it was, as renstoke realised, a wonderful example of animal training, for the gorilla is perhaps the most intractable of all living animals. "perhaps as you are here you would like to see the rest of my menagerie," said erckmann, as he led the way to a series of cages adjoining. they gazed in astonishment at what they saw. there was a superb tiger, several leopards of different species, and at least a dozen wolves. the animals were all clean and well cared for and it was obvious at a glance that none of them could have been wandering for an indefinite period about the country. "i hope you are satisfied, lord renstoke," said erckmann at last, "that none of my pets is responsible for what has happened?" "quite," replied renstoke. "and i am sorry we had to trouble you. but i am sure you will understand why i came. the affair is so mysterious that i could not leave any possibility unexplored." erckmann had puzzled them all. the man was perfectly courteous and apparently quite open in his replies to their questions. none the less all sensed that he was ill at ease and that he quite certainly resented their intrusion. yvette, more sensitive and keenly strung than the others, shuddered violently as they left the house. "that man is bad, all bad," she declared vehemently. "he has the eyes of the snake." she had put into words what all had felt, yet had been half ashamed to confess. there was something repulsively snake-like in the steady glare of erckmann's eyes behind the thick round glasses. "i confess i feel like yvette," said dick, "the man gave me the creeps." renstoke looked grave. "he didn't strike me as being quite aboveboard," he admitted. "at the same time, i don't see what he has to conceal. all the cages were occupied and it is certain none of the animals had been loose recently, and if one had broken out there is no reason why he should not say so. but he may have another ape which he has not shown us?" they walked a few hundred yards in silence until they had got to the bottom of the hill and approached the little burn that ran down the valley. there was no path, and as chance would have it, they deviated a few yards from the way along which they had come. they were crossing the brook when yvette gave a slight exclamation. "oh, look here," she said. the bed of the burn was stony throughout, but at one point, at the very edge of the water was a tiny patch of sand, smooth and firm and hardly larger than a handkerchief. yvette pointed to it. there, sharply and clearly defined, was the unmistakable imprint of a naked, misshapen foot! it was human beyond all question. it pointed in the direction of the house they had just left, and it was dear that the barefooted walker, whoever he may have been, had stepped from the heather just on to the patch of firm sand and been carried by his next stride through and beyond the rivulet on to the heather and stones where no footprints would remain. by some strange chance that one tell-tale footprint had been left in perhaps the only square foot of ground for miles where an impression could be left! they examined the footprint with eager curiosity. evidently the walker, or rather runner, had come fast down the hill, for the front part of the foot was driven deeply into the sand while the heel was only just showing. "he must have been running," said renstoke, "and what kind of man could run over such a country as this?" the question was natural, for the heather grew thick and deep round there and they had found walking difficult enough; running would have been out of the question for any of them. they were puzzled by the strange footprint, but how little they guessed that it held the key to the terrible tragedy of renstoke! late that night, renstoke, dick, and jules sat yarning in the great old drawing-room at the castle. the night was close and sultry, with a threat of thunder in the air, and the big french windows which opened on to the spreading lawn were flung wide. they were discussing erckmann. "i didn't like him," said renstoke, "though it is recognised that he possesses genius in a marked degree." "oh! you've heard something then?" asked dick quickly. "yes. the general public know nothing of him, but i hear that he has an amazing theory that it is possible, by an operation on the brain, to abolish almost entirely the ordinary characteristics of a man or an animal, and by the injection of an appropriate serum to substitute the mental, and to some extent the physical, characteristics of another species. he believes that you can, for instance, take a puppy-dog, operate on its brain, inject a serum prepared in some way from the brain of a monkey, and the puppy will grow up with the mentality and habits of a monkey and with its bodily characteristics so transformed that it can do many things--such, for instance, as climb a tree--which no dog could do. i believe he has actually succeeded in doing this!" "how weird and extraordinary!" remarked yvette. "more than this, he believes you could do the same with a human being-- destroy its human attributes and give it, for example, the ferocity, and something of the speed, of a wolf or a tiger." "how on earth did you learn this, renstoke?" asked dick. "from perhaps the only person who ever knew erckmann really well," was the reply. "some years ago erckmann was the resident doctor at a lunatic asylum in prague. he made a particular crony of his chief assistant, a young doctor named chatry, who afterwards went to canada, where i met him. chatry told me something of erckmann's views and experiments. i was, of course, tremendously interested, but i little thought i should ever run against the man in the flesh. erckmann was undoubtedly a very able man, but there was a scandal. on some pretext or other he performed a remarkable operation on an insane person. the patient, who had previously been quite tractable, developed extraordinary characteristics. he growled and snapped at all who approached him, insisted on eating his food on the floor instead of at table, barked like a dog, and finally would only sleep curled up on a rug. in fact, he developed strikingly dog-like habits. how much of anything erckmann let out generally chatry never knew. but he was asked to resign, and he left prague." "a very curious story!" dick remarked. "now chatry had no doubt whatever on the subject," said his host. "amazing as it may seem, he was firmly convinced that erckmann had deliberately made this extraordinary experiment and that it had succeeded. chatry died just before i left canada, but before he died, he gave me a little manuscript book in which he has related the whole story. i'll show it to you to-morrow." they said good-night and went to bed, leaving renstoke, who sometimes suffered from insomnia, to read himself sleepy. it was about two o'clock when dick, who was a light sleeper, was roused by a shout for help, apparently from the drawing-room which was directly below his bedroom. instantly he sprang out of bed, and snatching up a revolver, rushed downstairs. but he was just too late. as he entered the brilliantly lighted drawing-room he caught sight through the open window of a heavy misshapen body disappearing into the gloom beyond the bright patch of light cast by the electric lamps on the lawn outside. renstoke lay on his back on the floor, dying beside his favourite chair. close by was the book he had been reading and on the carpet near it was his pipe, the tobacco still smouldering. dick knelt hastily by the side of his friend and sought frantically to revive him. but it was in vain. the young peer died in his arms. it was evident that he had been attacked without the slightest warning, and mercilessly strangled. and in the side of his throat, just above the jugular vein, was a deep wound, horribly lacerated, from which the blood flowed in a heavy stream. the castle was speedily aroused, and in a few minutes half a dozen men were busily searching the surrounding country. but it was in vain--the mysterious assailant of the unfortunate lord renstoke had vanished completely. the following day dick, jules, and yvette, almost overcome with grief, were discussing the loss of their friend. "there is some devilry at work," dick declared. "and i shall never rest till it is cleared up, if i spend the rest of my life here." yvette burst into a furious philippic against erckmann. "that man is at the bottom of it all," she insisted. "but, yvette," dick remonstrated, "we have no kind of evidence of that." "i don't care," she replied vehemently, "erckmann knows all about it. i should like to choke it out of him," she ended viciously in french. "well," said jules, "we can't go to lockie and accuse him. how about trying a trap of some kind?" "we might do it in that way," dick admitted. "but what kind of trap?" long and eagerly they discussed the matter, and at length a plan was evolved. the next morning brought them a visit from inspector buckman, one of the ablest men of the special branch at scotland yard, to whom, utterly baffled, the police had very wisely applied for help. he was well known to all of them as a keen, capable man of infinite resource and undaunted courage. buckman listened closely while dick ran over the story, putting in a keen question here and there. "we have got to keep the real facts quiet," he said at length. "erckmann must not suspect that we have the smallest inkling of the evidence of lord renstoke's death. i will fix that up with the coroner." it was an easy matter. renstoke castle was a remote spot, and while the affair, of course, could not be entirely concealed, it was a simple matter to keep the exact details secret. all the public learned was that lord renstoke had been attacked and murdered presumably by a burglar for whom a close search was being made. but behind all and working in secret the keen brains of dick, yvette, jules, and buckman were busy. two or three nights later the word went round to the scattered farms that every single head of stock was to be driven in to the farms and rigidly confined in the buildings from dusk to daybreak. so far as they could ensure it not a single living thing was at large. dick's trap was arranged on the hill-side a mile from renstoke. four inches above the ground, in a circle fifty yards in diameter, ran a thin electric wire supported at intervals on small insulated posts. just inside the circle, on the side away from renstoke, a sheep was tethered to a strong stake. in the centre of the circle from a tall pole hung a powerful magnesium flash, electrically connected so that it would be at once exploded by any pressure on the encircling wire, and momentarily light up with day-time brilliance a large patch of the surrounding country. as dusk fell, dick, yvette, jules, and buckman carefully crossed the wire and took up their positions in the centre of the circle, lying full length in the sheltering heather, and each with a revolver ready to hand. in a leash beside dick lay spot, his favourite airedale, who could be trusted to give warning of the approach of any intruder, and afterwards to track him remorselessly. as the leaden moments dragged by it grew darker and darker until the country-side was plunged in pitch blackness. the strain on the watchers was terrific. they could not smoke or talk, they hardly dared to move. hour after hour dragged by. midnight passed. dick, half asleep, was gently stroking the back of the airedale. suddenly he felt the animal stiffen, and the hair along its back bristled ominously. a moment later the dog gave a low, half-audible growl and rose to its feet. instantly the party were keenly alert. dick clapped his hand over the dog's muzzle, and the well-trained animal subsided into silence. but dick could feel that it was strainingly alert; obviously it sensed an intruder. keenly at attention, with every faculty strained to the utmost, the silent watchers heard not a sound. but a few moments later there was a vicious snap in the air above them as the magnesium flash exploded, turning the inky blackness for a fraction of a second into a blaze of dazzling light. in that brief outburst of radiance the four caught a glimpse of a horror that photographed itself indelibly on their memories. twenty-five yards away a bestial, hideous face loomed out in the glare of light. it was the epitome of all things evil, with wild matted hair, staring eyes and a horrible misshapen mouth drawn back in a snarl which showed two rows of monstrous teeth. the body they could not see. apparently the creature was crouching in the heather so that only its ghastly head was visible. had it been a wild animal not one of the four, their nerves steel-hardened by the war, would have felt a tremor. but that ghastly face, vile and brutal as it was, was unmistakably human, and for an instant the watchers were paralysed with uncontrollable terror. but it was only for a moment. four revolver shots rang out almost simultaneously, fired in the darkness at the spot where the apparition had appeared. a crackling volley followed as the four automatics were emptied. almost with the last shot came a howl of mingled rage and pain from the darkness. evidently a bullet had got home. a few moments later dick, with spot barking madly and tugging wildly at his leash, had plunged into the blackness in hot pursuit at the fiendish intruder. close behind him came yvette, jules, and buckman. the hunt had begun! of that wild dash across country in the darkness dick afterwards remembered but little. spot plunged ahead without hesitation and dick followed, intent only on making the best speed possible and careless of constant falls as he stumbled blindly along. he dared not loose the dog, for without it he would have been helpless, and he plunged blindly forward, his reloaded pistol grasped in his right hand, careless of himself and intent only on overtaking the horror which he knew lay somewhere ahead of him. behind him toiled the others, guided by spot's frantic barks. progress, of course, was slow; falls and stumbles every few moments checked the pace; the darkness was baffling. it was with feelings of intense relief that dick at length saw the silvery edge of the moon lifting itself above the hills behind him. he had lost all sense of direction, but the moon rising behind him told him he was travelling westward. half an hour later the country was bathed in soft light and dick was able to pick up his bearings. suddenly he realised with a shock that he was heading straight for lockie! dick halted to let the others come up. without being afraid he felt instinctively that something terrible lay ahead of them and that for safety's sake it were best that they should be together. they were a sorry-looking party--hatless, their clothes torn, their faces and hands bruised and scratched by constant falls, almost exhausted by their tremendous efforts. but none of them thought of giving up the chase. for another mile they pushed onward, making better progress in the growing moonlight. suddenly buckman gave a tremendous shout. "look there!" he roared, pointing to a low hill which ran across their path. not five hundred yards away, on the top of the rise and clearly silhouetted against the sky, they caught a glimpse of a monstrous figure which, even as they looked, vanished over the crest and was gone. it was, unmistakably, a man of giant stature! it moved stiffly as though in pain; evidently one of the shots fired in the trap had got home. they hurried on. when they reached the crest of the rise lockie lay before them, and they could see the monstrous figure crossing a tiny stream in the valley below. they were gaining rapidly now. dawn was breaking and the cold pale light allowed them a dear view. the creature ahead of them was toiling painfully up the slope which led to lockie. suddenly a man issued from the house. it was erckmann and in his hand he carried a formidable whip. less than two hundred yards away dick and his companions halted spellbound. in some mysterious fashion they realised that they were to witness the last act in the terrible drama. the end came swiftly. more and more slowly, almost crawling at last, the strange creature approached erckmann and at length, evidently utterly exhausted, collapsed at his feet in a heap. they heard the scientist shout something unintelligible. then he raised his heavy whip and struck with fearful force at the unfortunate thing which lay before him. it was a fatal mistake. with the speed of lightning the misshapen heap on the ground flashed into furious activity. all the horrified spectators saw was an instantaneous leap and a brief struggle, and erckmann and the thing locked in a deadly grapple and then drop motionless. dick covered the last hundred yards in a furious dash. but he was too late. erckmann lay dead, with his adversary dead on top of him. the zoologist had been killed almost instantly by the grip of two large hands that still encircled his neck in a vice-like clutch, and in his throat the misshapen fangs of the creature were still buried deeply. only with infinite trouble was the body of the scientist freed from that deadly grapple, and they were able to examine the monster that had spread terror and death through argyllshire. unmistakably the body was that of a man, but incredibly dehumanised and ape-like. the muscular development was tremendous; the hands and arms were knotted masses of titanic muscle. but the crowning horror was the face--low-browed, flat-nosed, with a tremendous jaw and long pointed teeth, utterly unlike anything human. the body, stark naked, was covered thickly with hair and in the side was a terrible wound evidently made by the impact of a soft-nosed bullet from one of the automatic pistols. no normal human being could have survived it for more than a few minutes. it was only later, when they searched lockie, that they realised fully that erckmann had fallen a victim to a monster he had himself created. his diaries proved that chatry had spoken the truth. they were a repellent but horribly fascinating account of his experiments. of the results he had written in a wealth of detail, but of the process he employed there was not even a hint. that awful secret he had kept to himself, and had taken with him to his grave. they found that he had, as chatry had said, taken a human being, obviously of low mental development--possibly an asylum patient--and practically, by some devilish discovery, converted it into a human ape, endowed with the blood-lust of the tiger. but whether the fearful creature was capable of receiving and acting upon instructions, or whether erckmann simply let it loose to follow its terrible instincts until the "homing" instinct brought it back they never learned. of lockie, the police decided to make a clean sweep. the animals were shot and the half-dozen evil-looking foreign servants were paid off and sent to their homes, mostly in the wilder parts of transylvania. they one and all refused to say a word. whatever they were, they were at least faithful to their dead master. then, in the magnificent chemical laboratory with which the house was equipped, dick, who found himself renstoke's sole executor, easily arranged an "accident." fire broke out, there was no help for miles around and in a couple of hours the ill-omened house was a heap of ashes. the spectre of lockie had been finally laid. chapter seven. the peril of the prefet. it was a mystery of the city of paris which engaged the trio--a secret that has never been told, though many enterprising newspapers have tried to fathom it. here it is related for the first time. on a gloomy mid-december morning the sensation-loving parisians awoke to a new and eminently agreeable thrill. it was only last year and the occasion will be well remembered. there had been trouble enough in the city of light, which for once at any rate belied its name. a series of strikes had half-paralysed the capital. coal and light were almost unobtainable; the public lamps remained unlit; at night the city of pleasure was plunged in profound gloom. there were misery and wretchedness in the haunts of squalor and poverty which flanked the wealthier districts where, at a price, all things agreeable were as usual obtainable. but the dumb underworld was becoming vocal! "a mort l'assassin!" at daybreak the startling legend suddenly, and without warning, revealed itself from a thousand vantage-points to the awakening city. in crude, blazing red it flared from the hoardings-- sinister, ill-omened and, above all, full of significance. parisians alone knew. there could be no possibility of doubt as to the individual referred to. it was, beyond question, raoul gregoire, the prefect of police, whose cold, ruthless vendetta against the dark, turbulent forces which flowed beneath the effervescent gaiety of the gay life of paris, had earned for him the vindictive hatred of the criminal world, and had gained him his unenviable sobriquet of "assassin!" for months raoul gregoire's life had hung by a thread. before his appointment he had been prefect of finisterre. a series of efforts to "remove" him had been defeated only in the nick of time. twice he had been badly wounded. once a bomb had wrecked his car just after he had left it. a less courageous man would have given up the unequal contest and sought a pretext for retirement--back to the quiet, sea-beaten coast of finisterre. but monsieur le prefet was of a different mould. stern and ruthless he was, but his courage was invincible. he remained calm and imperturbed-- far more so, indeed, than many of his subordinates, who feared that the vengeance of the underworld might fall, by accident or design, upon themselves. "gregoire has pushed things a bit too far," was yvette's verdict, as she talked over with dick manton and jules the latest and most blatant challenge to the forces of the law and order. "they mean to make certain this time. i'm sure of it?" "it certainly seems so," dick agreed. "but i wonder when and how it will be? that's the point. gregoire doesn't show himself much in public now; he is practically living in the prefecture, and surrounded by his agents he is far too well guarded for any attempt to be made there." "they will have a good chance at the sultan's reception," remarked jules reflectively. "monsieur le prefet will have to be in the procession--he can hardly stay away even if he wanted to. it would show the white feather." it was a day to which the gaiety-loving parisians were looking forward with special interest. france's age-long quarrel with the wild tribes of the morocco hinterland had at length been amicably settled, and their sultan, ahmed mohassib, a picturesque figure whose eccentric doings provided the gossip-loving boulevard with hundreds of good stories, was "doing" paris as the guest of the quai d'orsay. it was expedient to show the barbaric ruler all the honour possible, and the following friday was the day on which he was to pay a ceremonial visit to the elysee. there was to be a great procession, and the government had let the press understand that a skilfully worked-up popular demonstration was desirable. the papers had responded nobly, and it was certain that "tout paris" would be out to see the show. on the occasion, at any rate, monsieur le prefet must be greatly in evidence. he was responsible for public order and must ride in the procession whatever the risk to himself, a plain target, for once, for the bullet or bomb of the assassin. "to-day is saturday," yvette remarked. "we really have not much time to spare between now and the twenty-second. i think i will make a few inquiries to-night. jules had better go with me." dick's heart sank. he knew what yvette's "inquiries" meant--hours, perhaps days, spent in the lowest quarters of paris, surrounded by such horrible riff-raff that if her purpose were even suspected her life would be worth hardly a moment's purchase. but he knew it was useless to remonstrate. yvette had a perfect genius for "make-up," and what was far more important, a perfect knowledge of the strange _argot_ which served the underworld of paris. jules was almost as clever as yvette. but in this particular, of course, dick was far behind. he could not hope to sustain his part in surroundings where a single wrong word would mean instant suspicion, and probably a swift and violent death for all three. "i wish i could go with you, yvette," he said wistfully, "but, alas! i know it is quite impossible." yvette had many friends in the lower quarters of the montmartre. the proprietors of many of the low _buvettes_ of the slums--places where one could get absinthe and drugs--were secretly in her pay, and so far as they were concerned she had no fears; the traffickers trusted her because they knew their secrets were safe. and by an ingenious code system which depended upon a mere vocal inflexion of certain common words she could reveal her identity, no matter what her disguise, to those who were in her secret. darkness had fallen upon the city when two appalling specimens of the worst vagabondage of paris--a man and a woman--crept silently through the market quarter towards one of paris's vilest haunts of villainy. they were such woebegone specimens of humanity as might have served for figures in some new "inferno." bedraggled and unkempt, their hands and faces besmirched with grime, their clothes hanging in tatters, it would have been impossible for even the keenest eye to have detected the smart french girl and her usually debonair brother. so far as appearances went they were safe enough. the risk would come when they began to talk, and especially when they began to ask questions. here a slip of the tongue might betray them. but the risk had to be taken. the prefet himself, quite as anxious as dick for the safety of yvette and jules, had taken precautions to protect them as far as possible. actual escort, of course, was out of the question. both yvette and jules carried revolvers, but in addition jules had concealed in the ample pockets of his villainous clothing, a tiny but delicate wireless telegraph apparatus, powerful enough upon a dry battery to send out a wireless wave which would carry a thousand yards or so. this dainty little bit of electrical work was the invention of dick manton. hardly larger than an old-fashioned watch it was operated by a hundred-volt battery which fitted into a specially made pocket, and the tiny transmitting key could be operated with one finger without arousing the slightest suspicion. gregoire's agents were dotted thickly around the unsavoury neighbourhood, each in touch, by means of the wireless, with every movement yvette and jules might make. dick himself was not far away. how amply these precautions were justified the events of the night were to show. for hour after hour yvette and jules slunk from one haunt of vice to another, always keenly on the alert, frequently helped by one or another of yvette's disreputable friends, but yet unable to pick up the slightest vestige of the trail of which they were in such active search. at length their patient vigil culminated. plunging deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the slums, they had penetrated at length to a tiny bar in the very lowest and most dangerous portion of the market section. the place was crowded with a mass of riff-raff at which even yvette and jules, accustomed as they were to such sights and sounds, could not repress a shudder. the proprietor, as it happened, was a beetle-browed provencal whose one redeeming feature was gratitude to yvette. his character was utterly bad and he had been mixed up in dozens of affairs more or less disreputable. a year or two before a serious charge of which he happened to be innocent had been brought against him. yvette had managed, with considerable trouble, to lay the real culprit by the heels, and jules charetier, apache though he was, would now go through fire and water to serve her. yvette knew that in his house she was personally far safer than she would have been in many more pretentious establishments. charetier raised his eyebrows when he caught the slight inflexion that instantly revealed to him yvette's identity. but he took no further notice beyond serving the drinks for which she had asked. a moment later, with a significant look, he quitted the room. yvette, with a slang caution to look after her drink for a moment, slipped into the filthy street and round the corner to the side entrance of the house. charetier was waiting for her, and a few moments later they were seated in the man's dingy room on the floor above the bar. "whatever are you doing here, mademoiselle?" jules burst out impulsively. "this is no place, even for you!" "listen, charetier," replied the girl rapidly. "something is brewing for next friday. something serious! you have seen the posters. i _must_ find out about it. can you tell me where any of the `seven' are to-night?" jules charetier paled at the mention of "the seven," the powerful camarilla whose hidden influence was felt throughout the criminal underworld of paris, london, and new york. the men who, practically without risk to themselves, were responsible for half the anarchist crimes of the three great capitals. who they were, and their real names, not even yvette knew. never appearing directly themselves, they worked entirely through agents, and fighting against them, the police found themselves in a stifling fog of mystery. but, as yvette knew, charetier was deep in the councils of continental anarchism, and she knew, too, that in his hands the life of the ordinary police agent would have been worth nothing. even for herself she was not very confident, but she had decided on a bold stroke, trusting charetier with everything on the ground of the service she had done him. at first the man was obdurate. "not even for you, my dear mademoiselle," he said sullenly. "but, mademoiselle," he went on earnestly, "we have been friends, therefore i implore you for your own sake to drop the matter and get away as speedily as possible. i cannot tell you anything." yvette's revolver flashed out and in an instant she had the innkeeper covered. "listen, jules!" she cried imperiously. "my brother is below, and the house is surrounded. if i stamp upon the floor you will be raided instantly. and you know there are things here you would not like the police to see--they don't know it, but you and i do! suppose demidoff learned that his papers had fallen into raoul gregoire's hands--eh?" for a moment yvette thought charetier would have risked everything and sprung at her. but it was only for a moment. then he collapsed. it was evident he feared demidoff, the notorious bolshevik agent, even more than he feared the police. "very well, mademoiselle," he replied, beads of perspiration standing out upon his wide white forehead and, despite his bravado, a hunted look crept into his eyes. "you might try the `chat mort.' there will be a meeting there at three o'clock this morning. but again i implore you not to go. you cannot get in and if you did you would never come out alive." "in which room do they meet?" was yvette's only reply. "the one at the back, looking out upon the old courtyard," was charetier's reply. "i know no more than that." "thanks, charetier," said yvette as she rose to go. "but, my dear mademoiselle," implored the innkeeper, "you will not breathe--" yvette cut him short. "that's enough, charetier," she said in a freezing tone. "you surely know you are safe so far as i am concerned. you have done me a great service to-night and i shall not forget." five minutes later yvette and jules were hastening to the "chat mort," a tavern of a gayer night-life than the one they had just quitted. it stood on the corner of two filthy slums in the villette quarter and at the rear was one of those tiny courtyards which so often go with old french houses--a place given over to the storage of odds and ends of flotsam and jetsam which are hardly worth the trouble of keeping, or even stealing. only a rickety wooden fence divided it from the horrible alley deep in mud and refuse. they realised at once that to enter the house would be impossible. it was now long past two o'clock and the street was deserted; everything was silent as the grave, and from the closely shuttered "chat mort" there was not a glimmer of light. to all appearances the inhabitants were soundly asleep. but yvette placed implicit trust in charetier. she was sure that the mysterious meeting would be held at the appointed hour. they crept silently to the rear of the building, cautiously forced a way through the crazy fence, and a moment later were outside the window of the room which charetier had indicated as the meeting-place. crouching beneath the window they listened intently. they were safe enough except for some unforeseeable accident. there was no sound in the room; no glimmer of light through the shutters. jules took from his pocket a tiny drill which speedily and silently bit a half-inch hole through the rotting woodwork of the window. into this he thrust a plug which at the end bore an extremely delicate microphone receiver. with telephones at their ears they listened intently. not a word would be uttered in the room without their knowledge. they could see nothing, but if anything was whispered they would certainly hear it. the minutes dragged slowly past until just before three o'clock a slight sound caught jules' attention. some one had entered the room. a moment later came the rasp of a match being struck. three o'clock boomed from a distant church dock. footsteps echoed inside. the meeting was assembling! how they longed to see into that room of mystery! but that was impossible; they must rely upon the microphone alone for all the information they could obtain. jules' hand sought yvette's wrist, and in the morse code he tapped out with his fingers--he dared not speak--a caution to listen acutely. their only hope of identifying the criminals was by their voices. they could see nothing. they could not even tell how many people there were in the room. but the mutter of conversation in varying tones came dearly to their ears. it consisted mainly, as they expected, of fierce denunciation of monsieur le prefet of police, whom they named "the assassin." soon it became clear that the meeting had been called solely to settle the time and place of the attack; evidently the method had been decided upon earlier. not a single word could the listeners catch of how the attack was to be carried out, whether by bomb, or bullet, or knife. little did they guess the secret and deadly swiftness of the anarchists' plan. for some time the discussion continued. place after place was suggested and rejected upon one ground or another. suddenly a hard masterful voice cut across the talking. "the place d'italie will be the best," it declared. "half the road is up there and the procession must go along the avenue des gobelins, close to the old villa. at that distance it will be impossible to miss. and there will be no noise and no fuss till the job is done." the old villa! jules knew the place well--an ancient building dating back to louis xv, solidly built, and with all the quaint architectural features of the time. quite unsuitable for any modern purposes, its vast apartments had by degrees been turned into a queer medley of rooms which served partly as flats and partly as offices to a heterogeneous mass of tenants, many of them of more than doubtful reputation. but how any attack on raoul gregoire could be projected from a building which it was certain would, on the day of the procession, be packed with sightseers, jules was at a loss to conceive. that, however, remained to be discovered. for the moment the important thing was to capture the band of conspirators before they could make their escape. jules withdrew, and adjusting his portable instrument--a marvel of compactness--placed his foot against an iron lamp-post to make an earth contact, and swiftly called the prefecture of police by morse. the telephones were on his ears, and almost next second he heard the answering signal. then he tapped out on his wireless transmitter an urgent message. a moment later he and yvette had slipped clear of the place, and ran swiftly away. it was no part of their plan to risk recognition by any of the prisoners. at the head of the alley they waited for about six or seven minutes, when they met roquet, the inspector of the surete, who was in charge of the detectives who were rapidly converging on the inn. to him jules briefly explained the situation. "we have them safely enough," declared roquet with a strong accent of the midi. "every approach has been guarded for the last hour, and no one has been allowed to pass in or out. you can now leave it to us, m'sieur." yvette and jules were glad enough to say _au revoir_ and to hurry home for a much-needed rest. they could examine the prisoners at their leisure at the prefecture and, if possible, identify them by their voices. but a startling surprise awaited the detectives. their imperious knocking at the door of the frowsy chat mort at first brought no reply. a few minutes later the proprietor appeared, half-dressed and yawning drowsily as though just awakened from profound sleep. he was instantly arrested and handcuffed and the police poured into the house, revolvers drawn and ready for what they expected would be a furious combat with reckless and desperate men. to their utter amazement the house was empty! the room looking on to the courtyard, in which, according to jules and yvette, the conspirators had held their meeting, was in perfect order, apparently as it had been left the night before when the place was shut up. there was not a sign that anyone had been there for hours, not even a whiff of fresh tobacco smoke to suggest that the room had been recently occupied. roquet was utterly mystified. he had, with very good reason, dreamed any escape impossible. could jules and yvette have been mistaken? that, he felt, was out of the question. none the less the problem remained--where were the men? the house was speedily searched from attic to cellars, but in vain. there was not the smallest indication that any meeting had been held there! roquet naturally felt intensely foolish, and his embarrassment was in no way lessened by the voluble protestations of the proprietor who demanded, with every show of righteous indignation, the reason of what he was pleased to term "an outrageous domiciliary visit." there was, of course, no charge against him, and ultimately the baffled police were compelled to release him and retire, furious and puzzled at the utter failure of what had promised to be a brilliant _coup_. three days later the mystery was solved. from the cellar of the "chat mort" a narrow tunnel had been driven to an equally disreputable establishment a short distance away, and when the police had raided the house the plotters had swiftly bolted, leaving the innkeeper to drop behind them the stone slab in the cellar floor which covered the entrance to the tunnel. the position now was grave enough, and yvette, jules, and dick discussed it at length with the prefet and his lieutenants. to all entreaties that he should stay out of the procession the chief resolutely turned a deaf ear, and they found it impossible to shake his resolve. would the conspirators stick to the arrangement made at the "chat mort," or would they, alarmed by the raid on the house, make an eleventh-hour change in their plans? that was the problem to be solved. monsieur le prefet was living on the edge of a volcano, and all his precautions would, he feared, be of no avail against them. dick felt convinced they would carry out the plan arranged. it could not be imagined, he argued, that they would dream they had been overheard, and it was evident that the plan had been very carefully considered. ultimately it was decided to relax none of the ordinary precautions, but to keep a specially close watch on the old villa in the place d'italie. dick decided that, whatever the police did, he would make his own arrangements for that purpose. the sequel proved that it was well he did so. on the night prior to the procession the police carried out a very drastic _coup_. every known anarchist in paris was arrested on some pretext or another and locked up. one by one they were briefly interrogated, while jules and yvette, concealed in the room behind a screen, tried to recognise any of the voices they had heard in the chat mort. fifty or sixty prisoners had been interviewed before jules and his sister standing behind a screen heard a voice they recognised. it was that of the man who had suggested the old villa in the place d'italie as a suitable base for the attempt on the prefet. none of the others could be identified, and it was evident that the worst of the miscreants were still at large. the man whom they recognised proved to be anton kapok, a hungarian of whom nothing was known except that he was in the habit of delivering violent harangues at socialist and anarchist meetings. but it was evident now that he was far more dangerous than the police had hitherto supposed. closely interrogated, he denied everything. he knew nothing, he declared, of the "chat mort" and had not been mixed up in any conspiracy. his anarchist proclivities, however, he boldly admitted and declared that the police knew all there was to know about him. to the police a search of kapok's room in bellville revealed nothing more incriminating than a mass of anarchist literature. but dick made a discovery which they had overlooked. close to the ceiling, immediately above the fireplace, was suspended on two hooks what looked like a rod from which pictures might be hung. the police had, in fact, so regarded it. dick never knew what aroused his suspicions, but something impelled him to mount a ladder and fetch the rod down. then he made a startling discovery. the supposed rod was nothing less than one of the wonderful blow-pipes used by some of the aboriginal tribes of south america and elsewhere to shoot their poisoned darts with which they either fought their enemies or killed dangerous animals. one of the darts, a tiny affair fashioned out of a sharp thorn with a tuft of cotton which just filled the tube, was actually in position. instantly dick's mind travelled back to the strange deaths nearly a year before of two police officials who had been specially astute in the anti-anarchist campaign. both had been found dead in lonely streets, and in each case the only mark on the body was a tiny scratch on the cheek which no one had dreamed of connecting with their inexplicable death. as dick gazed at the deadly blow-pipe those scratches assumed a new and sinister significance. carefully removing the dart, dick hurried with it to the laboratory of doctor lepine, the well-known toxicologist. doctor lepine smiled. "lucky you didn't scratch yourself with it, monsieur manton," he said in french. "it would mean almost instant death!" he listened gravely as dick described the death of the two police agents. the doctor had been away in england at the time and had not even heard of the circumstances. but he hurried round to the prefecture with dick and carefully examined the documents which dealt with the two cases and described minutely the appearance of the bodies. "i have not the slightest doubt," he declared, "that both men were killed with one of these darts. every indication points to it. but as the darts were not found we must presume they were removed after death to avoid arousing suspicion. the victim would be paralysed almost instantly, and would fall and die almost on the spot where he was standing when the dart infected him. if there are any more of these accursed things in paris it will, i fear, be a difficult matter to protect monsieur le prefet, for a favourable opportunity must come in the long run." dick hurried back to kapok's room, meaning to secure the blow-pipe. to his amazement the deadly weapon had disappeared! the police agents on duty outside the room asserted that no one had entered. but an open window told its tale; some one had crept along the ledge outside, entered the room and possessed himself of the weapon. dick spent several anxious hours with the prefet, raoul gregoire, and inspector roquet, arranging a plan of campaign. next morning found him crouched in an upper window of a locked room in a house facing the old villa in the place d'italie. close at hand lay a powerful pneumatic gun, a weapon perfected by jules and almost as deadly and efficient as a rifle. he was haunted by a sickening _sense_ of foreboding. against every evidence of his reason and senses he felt convinced that it was from that old villa that danger threatened gregoire. yet he was bound to admit that his fears seemed absurd. the old house opposite was packed with sightseers, but there was a detective in every room close to the window. even the garrets had been searched. it was obvious that they had not been entered for months. yet dick could not shake off the uncanny feeling which haunted him. at last the head of the procession came in sight, with the blare of military bands and a crash of cheers from the thousands of spectators lining the streets. but dick had no eyes for the show. his whole attention was riveted on the building before him. the sultan ahmed mohassib, of morocco, in his white _burnous_ with many decorations, passed amid a hurricane of cheers. glancing along the procession dick saw the prefet--a soldierly figure sitting erect in his car. in a few moments he would be abreast of the villa. suddenly dick's eye was caught by a flash of light. glancing quickly upward he saw to his amazement that the window of a garret facing him--a room which had already been searched--had suddenly opened. only the chance reflection of the sun upon the glass had attracted his attention to the swift movement. as raoul gregoire passed, a dark rod, clutched in a hand which rested on the grimy windowsill, projected itself from the window. it wavered for a moment, then steadied itself and pointed downward. instantly dick fired. the hand disappeared with a jerk, while the rod slid forward and fell over to the ground! wild with excitement dick dashed down into the street. it was utterly impossible to force his way through the cheering crowd and he could only watch monsieur le prefet in a fever of anxiety. it was soon dear that raoul gregoire was untouched. evidently the would-be assassin, if he had indeed dispatched one of the poisoned darts, had missed his aim. five minutes later dick and half a dozen detectives were in the garret of the old villa. but they were too late. the bird had flown, badly hurt to judge by the blood which stained the floor. but on the window-sill lay three little poisoned darts ready for use. a glance at the open skylight in the low roof was enough. in a moment they were out on the roof of the adjoining house. a few yards away was a rope ladder hooked over the parapet and dangling to the exterior fire-escape leading from the roof of a big drapery store only ten feet below. the miscreant himself had vanished. the would-be murderer, it was clear, must have climbed the fire-escape during the darkness of the previous night, and lain hidden on the roofs till the procession came along. after the garret had been searched, he had slipped down with impunity while every one was excitedly watching the procession. they never caught him. but when gregoire returned to the prefecture a poisoned dart was found sticking in the upholstery of his car, close to his head. had it been a bare half-inch lower down it would, no doubt, have struck him with fatal result. dick's lightning shot had spoilt the miscreant's aim and saved the prefet's life. the incident is one of the secrets of the life of official paris and led to the prefet's resignation a month later, an occurrence which filled all france with dismay and was the cause of much conjecture and speculation. raoul gregoire has returned to the provinces and is now prefet of the department of the alpes-maritimes an appointment which he much prefers. chapter eight. the message for one eye only. the heat was stifling in the gran ancora at barcelona, an obscure but grandiloquently named cafe of more than doubtful reputation. at dilapidated tables in the long apartment which served as a saloon groups of rough-looking men were drinking steadily. the fumes of strong tobacco poisoned the heavy atmosphere, flies swarmed over everything, the air was full of the reek of stale drink and unwashed humanity. though it was but early evening the ill-omened place was already filling up. it was a notorious haunt of betting men and some of the worst characters of the town, frequented by desperadoes who were ready to undertake any deed of violence if it offered the promise of plunder. the swarms of anarchists, who are the curse of spain, found there a ready welcome and congenial companionship. at a table at one end of the long room, sat a solitary individual who was reading the "diario," an anarchist journal devoted to the preaching of doctrine of the most revolutionary type. he spoke to no one, and no one spoke to him, though now and again curious glances were directed towards him. he took no notice of the hubbub around him, but went on calmly reading his paper and sipping slowly at a glass of the villainous wine which seemed to be the favourite beverage of the habitues of the house. the stranger was no other than dick manton. he had come to barcelona on the trail of a gang of international crooks who had got away with a hundred thousand francs by a clever bank swindle in paris. had his identity been suspected his life in that haunt of depravity would not have been worth five minutes' purchase. but he sat there undisturbed, apparently oblivious of what was going on around him, but in reality keenly on the alert and with one hand close to the butt of the heavy revolver which, as he well knew, he might be called upon to use at any moment in the deadliest earnest. manton stiffened suddenly as his eye fell on the queer jumble of figures quoted above. they were buried away in a mass of advertisements and might well be overlooked by the casual reader. as dick well knew, the "diario" was used for all kinds of queer communications to all kinds of queer people, and he was attracted by the hint of mystery, a lure which he could never resist. the jumble of figures fascinated him. he had a strange feeling that it would be well worth while to try to decipher the weird cryptogram. but he knew better than to try to do so there. it was not healthy to try in public to pry into the secrets of the underworld of barcelona. dick manton had had a strange and adventurous career. but as he gazed at the odd announcement, he had a premonition that he was on the edge of a mystery stranger than anything that he had so far encountered. having read the queer cryptogram over and over again, dick slipped the paper into his pocket. presently he finished his wine and sauntered out, with an uneasy feeling that made him wonder whether he would reach the door without a bullet in his back. he got out in safety, however, and once clear of the doubtful neighbourhood of the cafe, made his way swiftly to his rooms at the "hotel falcon." it took several hours of hard work before he could obtain the key of the cipher. then he realised with a gasp that it was in one of the simplest of british signal codes. the key read: at first dick was completely mystified. the message conveyed nothing to him. who were mataza, wilson, and greening? where was chalkley? and, above all, why should such a message appear in an english code in an obscure paper published in barcelona? it was the last point which worried him most. he felt instinctively that the message must conceal a meaning of which he was necessarily ignorant, and that it must be related to some affair which was pending in england. the more he thought about it the more uneasy he grew. he had the premonition which so often comes to the help of the detective, and at length, though he was almost ashamed of acting on such slender grounds, he decided to consult his chief. an hour later he was on his way to paris, leaving the affair of the bank swindlers in the hands of a capable subordinate. arriving in paris he drove straight to regnier's private apartment, just off the place de la concorde. "why, manton, what brings you here?" asked regnier in surprise. "have you finished at barcelona already?" for answer dick laid the deciphered cryptogram before the chief. "what do you make of that?" he asked abruptly. regnier read the slip of paper with knitted brows. "queer," he commented. "why should it be published in the `diario'? i think it means mischief. do you know chalkley?" dick shook his head. "no," he replied, "but it sounds like an english name. and yet i have a feeling that i must have heard it somewhere. it sounds familiar, but i cannot place it. in the meantime i will run home and see if the english papers will tell me anything." dick found jules and yvette eager for news; he had telegraphed them that he was returning. dick, jules, and yvette had become the most formidable combination in the french secret service. they always insisted on working together, they would accept no assistance except that which they chose themselves, and they would work only under the direction of regnier, who was astute enough to realise their abilities. yvette had been prevented by a slight illness from accompanying dick to barcelona, and both she and jules, who had stayed with her, hated inaction. there had been a slump in international crime of the kind in which they specialised, and they were suffering from _ennui_. anything which promised excitement and adventure was welcome. they listened eagerly while dick told his story. "and now," said dick, half ruefully, as he concluded, "i don't know whether we are on the track of something or whether i have been an idiot." yvette's eyes were dancing with merriment. "well, dick," she said, "you are certainly a pretty englishman not to know one of the most famous places in your own country. don't you really know chalkley?" "no," replied dick in bewilderment. "what do you know about it?" for answer yvette rummaged among a pile of newspapers and produced a copy of the "times" dated a week before. "there?" she said. "read that." "that" was a closely printed column which dick proceeded to scan with attention. it was an article describing the wonderful deposits of pitchblende, the ore from which radium is extracted, which had been discovered in the ural region in the neighbourhood of zlatoust. an english combine had secured the monopoly of the working for fifteen years, and already a supply of radium valued at one hundred and fifty thousand pounds had been brought home by the famous professor fortescue for the use of british chemists and medical men. the discovery and acquisition of the monopoly by british interests, the article pointed out, had put england far ahead in the field of radium research, for she had now a big supply of the precious commodity at her disposal, while other nations were struggling along with the tiny quantities obtained from other and far less rich deposits. and, as was fully explained, it was not in medicine alone that the radium would be valuable; there was hardly a department of commerce, to say nothing of the arts of warfare, in which radium was not playing a considerable and constantly increasing part. so many new discoveries were being made by the band of experts, of whom professor fortescue was the acknowledged head, that it was beginning to be realised that radium in the future was likely to be as valuable as coal and oil had been in the past. but--and here was the fact of most significance to dick--the radium was at chalkley, professor fortescue's home in the wilds of the durham moors. he had taken it there on his return from zlatoust for use in some critical experiments he had in hand before it was sent on to the young but growing school of medicine at durham university. they had at least approached the heart of the mystery! it was evident that some band of international desperadoes had designs on the precious radium. in spite of their enormous value, the two tubes containing the salt could easily be carried in a man's pocket, and in germany there would be a ready market for it among the great chemical firms, whose business consciences were sufficiently elastic to permit them to pay a big price and ask no awkward questions. dick was reading the report carefully, when he suddenly gave a startled exclamation. "why, look here," he said, "the radium is only to be kept at chalkley till the twenty-ninth. that explains the twenty-nine in the advertisement. and to-day is the twenty-seventh. if anything is to happen it must be at once or they will be too late. i must ring up regnier." regnier was with them in half an hour. he was filled with excitement when he learned the facts which yvette had discovered. "that," he said, "puts an entirely new complexion on the affair. there can now be very little doubt about the matter. clearly `lead' means radium, and i think we can interpret `bull market' as an intimation that it is a big prize. they are evidently well informed, whoever they are. we must tell london at once." but before anything could be done a messenger for regnier arrived post haste from the bureau of the secret service in the quai d'orsay with strange news. a big aeroplane, flying at a tremendous speed, had crossed the franco-spanish frontier near bagneres de luchon having apparently come right across the pyrenees. it had ignored all the signals of the french frontier guards, whose aeroplanes had, in consequence, gone up in pursuit. only one of them was fast enough to approach the stranger, and a fight had followed in which the french machine was crippled and forced to descend. thereupon the strange machine had proceeded, flying in the direction of bordeaux. telephone messages had brought warning of its approach, and several attempts had been made to stop it, but without success. it had been reported, chased by french aeroplanes over bordeaux, nantes, and st malo, and at the latter place, just as dusk was falling, it had left the french coast and laid a course apparently for england. no further news of it had been received. regnier looked grave. "of course," he said, "we have absolutely no reason to couple this machine with the advertisement in the `diario,' but i confess i am uneasy. there is at chalkley radium worth a fortune, easily carried if anyone can get hold of it, and readily convertible into cash. what better device could be employed than a fast aeroplane which could get to durham and away before anyone could hope to stop it? in any case, i am going to telephone scotland yard at once." half an hour later he was in communication with inspector cummings, the senior officer on duty at the yard. to him he explained his suspicions, half afraid, with the frenchman's dread of ridicule, that the other would laugh at his story as an old woman's tale. but inspector cummings was too experienced to be neglectful or sceptical of anything which could disturb regnier, whom he well knew to be one of the most astute and level-headed of men. he took the matter seriously enough. "we have heard nothing yet," he said. "but i will 'phone durham at once and let you know in the course of an hour." they waited anxiously for the reply. it came at last. "cummings speaking," said the voice on the 'phone. "i have spoken to durham. they have heard nothing there, but they are unable to obtain any reply from professor fortescue. the telephone exchange reports his line out of order. "but here is a queer thing. a big aeroplane, evidently a foreigner, was reported this morning to have been seen over the midlands flying north. there was a lot of mist about, and we have not been able to trace the machine yet. but it was certainly not one of ours." "well," said regnier, "will you keep me posted? i fancy you will have more news before long. in any case, you will have durham warned?" "i have warned them myself," replied cummings, "and they are sending a couple of men out in a motor to make inquiries. you know chalkley is about twenty-five miles from durham and quite in the wilds. professor fortescue was, a couple of years ago, carrying out some experiments in which it was absolutely necessary he should be away from anything like traffic vibrations, and he chose this place for the purpose because it was remote from any railway or heavy traffic. he has stayed there ever since; he said it suited him to be `out of the world,' as he called it." three hours later came still more startling news. the police officers who had gone from durham to chalkley had found that two armed men had made a raid on professor fortescue's house. they had gagged the servants, who were found lying bound and helpless, and the professor himself was found lying unconscious in his laboratory, having apparently been sandbagged. the raiders had leisurely helped themselves to food, and, having cut the telephone wires, had departed without any particular haste. but the great leaden safe, weighing several hundredweights, in which the precious radium had been brought to england, was found to have been broken open. _the radium was gone_! nothing in the meantime had been heard of the strange aeroplane. but a few hours later an old shepherd walked into one of the local police-stations and told a queer story. his sheep the previous evening, he reported, had been disturbed by the passing of an aeroplane which, flying very low, had landed on the moors a few miles away from the professor's house. it had stayed there all night and, so far as he knew, was still there. he had been unable to approach it closely as it was separated from where he had been by a deep gorge and a stream which he could not cross without making a detour of several miles. he had seen two men near the machine who had walked away and disappeared in the folds of the moor. a strong party of police, cummings added, had left at once for the spot where the aeroplane had been seen, taking the shepherd with them as guide. the place was remote from any road, and it would be an hour or two before they could get there. but the air ministry had been warned, and already aeroplanes were going up in the hope of locating the strange machine. "i must be in this," said dick. "ask him if i can come over. i cannot, of course, go unasked." "of course," said cummings in reply to regnier's request. "we shall be only too glad to have mr manton. miss pasquet can come too, if she likes. but i'm afraid he won't be able to get here in time. we shall either have got these fellows or lost them hopelessly in a few hours." dick turned to jules. "ring up the british air ministry," he said, "and ask them if the strange machine gets off the ground to send us every movement as it is reported. keep the telephone on all the time. i am going to try to cut these chaps off with the mohawk. you will have to report to me by wireless every movement as it comes through. from what we have heard i fancy there are very few machines in england fast enough to catch those fellows if they once get started. of course you will come, yvette?" an hour later, dick and yvette, seated in the helicopter, were in full flight for england. yvette was at the controls; dick, in view of the work that might be before them, crouched over the tiny machine gun which peered from the bow of the machine. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ professor fortescue was in a terrible state of distress. he had been working in his laboratory, when a slight noise had caused him to turn round. a man, apparently a foreigner as the professor judged from the hasty glance he got at him, was standing close behind him. before the professor could speak or move he received a violent blow on the head, and remembered nothing more till he recovered consciousness some time later under the care of the police. his chief concern was for the radium, and his distress at its loss was pitiful. it was a disaster from which he seemed unable to recover. but he appeared to derive a strange satisfaction from the danger in which the thieves would find themselves. "i don't know how they will get it away," he declared to the police inspector. "it was dangerous to stay very near the safe for long owing to the terrible power of the radium rays. if the thieves try to carry the tubes in their pocket they will not get very far. surely they cannot realise the terrible risk they are running. however, that need not distress us; all we want is to get the radium back." in the meantime a strong party of police had arrived from durham at the professor's house, and, under the guidance of the old shepherd, started across the moors for the spot at which the strange aeroplane had been seen. it was slow going over rough and difficult ground which tested the endurance even of the younger men. the only unconcerned person was the old shepherd who trudged stolidly on at a pace with which they found it difficult to keep up. they had gone eight or nine miles before the old man spoke. "not far now," he said. a mile farther on he halted. "it's just over yon hill," he said, pointing to a small eminence a few hundred yards away. "you will see it as soon as you get at the top." breasting the rise, the police cautiously approached the ridge and glanced over. there in the valley, only five or six hundred yards away, was the aeroplane. two men in air kit stood beside it. scattering into a thin line the police rushed down the slope, every man with a revolver ready in his hand. but they were just too late. they had only gone a few yards when the men hastily took their places in the machine, there was a loud whirr as the engine broke into action, and while the policemen were still a hundred yards away, the strange machine rose into the air and was gone. a furious volley rattled out from the revolvers, but the range was too great and the breathless policemen had the mortification of seeing the machine disappear rapidly to the south. immediately the fastest runner of the party started at a trot for the professor's house to send out a warning. but it was not necessary. the aerodromes all over the kingdom had been warned by wireless from the air ministry, and already a host of machines were scouting in every direction. the stranger, flying due south, had reached bradford before he was signalled. instantly there was a rush of aeroplanes from all parts of the midlands to cut him off. but he slipped through the cordon, flying very high and at a tremendous speed. outside birmingham a fast scout picked him up and reported by wireless, and from the huge aerodrome at cheltenham over twenty fighting planes leaped into the air to stop the career of the marauder. there was now no chance, at least, of his getting away unobserved. he was under constant observation, alike from the air and the ground, and every moment wireless messages were pouring into the air ministry reporting his progress. but to catch him proved impossible. only two of the pursuing machines were fast enough to keep up with the stranger, and even they could not overtake him. so the headlong flight went on, drawing ever nearer to the southern coast. if the stranger could get out to sea all chance of stopping him would vanish. but, unknown to the furious british airmen, help was close at hand. warned by jules' wireless messages of the direction the strange machine was taking, yvette had steered a course to intercept him somewhere in the neighbourhood of bournemouth, and the mohawk, with its wireless chattering incessantly, was now swinging lazily at half speed in a big circle between salisbury and the hampshire watering-place. "over salisbury now," called yvette to dick, her voice ringing out clearly above the muffled hum of the propeller, the only sound which came from the helicopter, with its beautifully silenced engines. a few minutes later dick pointed to the north. "here he comes," he shouted. far away were three tiny specks in the sky. through his glasses dick could make them out clearly enough. the leader was a machine of a type he had never seen before; a mile behind it were a couple of planes which he at once recognised as the bristol fighters which had been so familiar to him in france. the pace of the three machines was terrific. it was clear the english airmen were going all out in a desperate effort to catch the stranger before he reached the water, and they were expending every ounce of energy. but a moment or two later it was quite clear they were falling behind. presently a puff of smoke from the leader signalled "petrol exhausted," and he dropped in a long slant to the ground. the second machine, however, held on grimly, though slowly losing ground. evidently his predicament was the same as that of his colleague, and a moment later he, too, dipped earthward and was out of the fight. only the mohawk stood between the stranger and safety! but it was a mohawk very different from the comparatively crude machine of a year before, wonderful though that was. dick and jules had worked out a revolutionary improvement in the lifting screws, with the result that a small supplementary engine, using comparatively little power, was now sufficient to keep the machine suspended in the air. as a result the full power of the big twin driving engines was now available for propulsion, and the speed of the mohawk, when pushed to the limit, was something of which dick had hardly dreamed in his earlier days. so far as he knew the mohawk was easily the fastest craft in existence. but what of the stranger? had the men of the mystery craft a still greater secret up their sleeve? that they had something big dick could plainly see by the way the fastest craft of the british air service, the best in the world, had dropped astern of the stranger. was the mohawk fast enough to beat the pirate? they would soon know. as the big machine came on, yvette set the elevating propellers of the mohawk to work, and the helicopter shot upward. the stranger saw the manoeuvre and at once followed suit. but here he was at a disadvantage. yvette's object, of course, was to get above him. he would then be at their mercy, for he could not fire vertically, while the gun of the mohawk was specially constructed so as to be able to fire downwards through a trap which opened in the flooring. if they could get what in the air corresponded to the "weather gauge" at sea, they would have the marauder at their mercy if the mohawk had speed enough to hold him. could they do it? plainly the fugitive saw his danger. as yvette shot upward he must have realised that in speed of climbing he was no match for his antagonist. he decided to trust to his heels. yvette, climbing rapidly, had got a couple of thousand feet above the stranger and was heading to meet him. they were now twelve thousand feet in the air. suddenly, with a tremendous nose dive, the foreign aeroplane slipped below them. the manoeuvre was so smartly carried out that yvette was completely taken by surprise, and before she could recover herself the chance of bringing the stranger to battle had gone. he had passed five thousand feet below them, and the issue now depended upon speed and endurance. with a cry of disappointment, yvette swung the mohawk round in pursuit. their quarry, by his daring manoeuvre, had gained a couple of miles before she could turn, and was fast disappearing towards the sea. dick shook his head. he had seen the speed of which the fugitive was capable, and he had the gravest doubts whether the mohawk could equal it. waiting for the strange aeroplane, yvette had set the mohawk to a comparatively slow pace. she had misjudged the distance and her error had enabled the raider to get a more than useful--possibly a decisive-- lead. but even as she swung round she had pressed the accelerator and the mohawk quivered as the big twin engines began to work up to their maximum. watching keenly, dick saw the apparent rush away of the foreigner slacken and finally stop. they were at least holding their own. he signalled yvette for more speed. she shook her head. dick was in despair. the pace at which they were going was not enough. he thought it was their best. but he had not calculated on yvette's resourcefulness. the french girl had swiftly made up her mind. she knew they had plenty of petrol for several hours' flight. they were holding their own already in the matter of speed, and the mohawk, though dick did not know it, had still some knots in reserve. yvette would not jeopardise the engines by instantly pushing them to the limit. but they were "warming up" under her skilful handling. they were two miles behind as they passed over bournemouth and started the long flight to the french coast which the stranger was seeking. half an hour slipped by and dick suddenly realised that the mohawk was gaining, slowly, it was true, but unmistakably. he looked inquiringly at yvette, who nodded and smiled. "all right, dick," she shouted. "we can get them any time we want." dick realised her plan. his own thought, as a fighting man, would have been to close at once and have it out. but yvette had the radium in mind. if they smashed the stranger over the sea the priceless radium would inevitably be lost. with the mohawk gradually gaining, the chase drew near to the french coast. cherbourg loomed ahead of them, drew near, and disappeared beneath them. they were over france. instantly yvette began to coax the mohawk to do its best. splendidly the engines responded, the plane shot forward at a pace which surprised dick, and a few minutes later they were directly above the fugitive. the battle was all but won. in vain their quarry sought, by diving and twisting, to shake them off. his position was hopeless. seeing a good landing-place ahead dick fired a couple of shots as a signal. they could see the terrified face of the passenger in the plane below gazing upward at the strange shape of the mohawk above them. then the signal of surrender came, and the fugitive dipped earthward. a couple of minutes later it came to land, and the two occupants stood holding up their hands while the mohawk came gently to earth fifty yards away, dropping vertically from the sky in a fashion which caused the pilot of the foreign machine the wildest astonishment. the radium was saved! but it enacted a fearful revenge. the unfortunate passenger, who they found out later was a well-known spanish anarchist, had imprudently placed the two tubes in his pocket, apparently ignorant of their terrible power. even in the short time he had them in his possession he was so terribly burned that he died a couple of days later in spite of the efforts made to save him, while the pilot, who had, of course, been near enough to the tubes to get some of the effects, was also so seriously injured that for weeks his life hung in the balance. it was found impossible to remove the tubes to england until professor fortescue, overjoyed at the good news, came bringing the leaden safe into which the precious tubes were placed. the sequel came a week later. not even the british war office could ignore the fact that the mohawk, single-handed, had achieved a feat at which the british air force had signally failed. a highly placed official sought dick out. the result was that the plans of the mohawk were sold jointly to england and france at the price of one hundred thousand pounds. and regnier lost his "star" combination. dick had no longer before his eyes the fear that had haunted him for so long that in marrying yvette he would be condemning her to a life of comparative poverty. and so the companionship born amid the stress and tumult of war came at last to perfect fruition in the marriage between the two lovers which took place in paris just three months after their last air adventure. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the end. the thunder bird by b. m. bower author of _chip of the flying-u_, _starr of the desert_, _skyrider_, etc. frontispiece by anton otto fischer grosset & dunlap publishers new york , [frontispiece: still schwab hung back. "i'll wait until he can come. i--i can't leave."] contents chapter i johnny assumes a debt of honor ii and the cat came back iii johnny would do stunts iv mary v to the rescue v gods or something vi fame waits upon johnny vii merely two points of view viii sudden must do something ix giving the colt his head x lochinvar up to date xi johnny will not be a nice boy xii the thunder bird takes wing xiii the hegira of john ivan jewel xiv fate meets johnny smiling xv one more plunge for johnny xvi with his hands full of money and his eyes shut xvii "my job's flying" xviii into mexico and return xix but johnny was neither fool nor knave xx mary v takes the trail xxi johnny is not paid to think xxii johnny makes up his mind xxiii johnny acts boldly xxiv the thunder bird's last flight for johnny xxv over the telephone chapter one johnny assumes a debt of honor since life is no more than a series of achievements and failures, this story is going to begin exactly where the teller of tales usually stops. it is going to begin with johnny jewel an accepted lover and with one of his dearest ambitions realized. it is going to begin there because johnny himself was just beginning to climb, and the top of his desires was still a long way off, and the higher you go the harder is the climbing. even love does not rest at peace with the slipping on of the engagement ring. i leave it to life, the supreme judge, to bear me out in the statement that love must straightway gird himself for a life struggle when he has passed the flowered gateway of a woman's tremulous yes. to johnny jewel the achievement of possessing himself of so coveted a piece of mechanism as an airplane, and of flying it with rapidly increasing skill, began to lose a little of its power to thrill. the getting had filled his thoughts waking and sleeping, had brought him some danger, many thrills, a good deal of reproach and much self-condemnation. now he had it--that episode was diminishing rapidly in importance as it slid into the past, and johnny was facing a problem quite as great, was harboring ambitions quite as dazzling, as when he rode a sweaty horse across the barren stretches of the rolling r ranch and dreamed the while of soaring far above the barrenness. well, he had soared high above many miles of barrenness. that dream could be dreamed no more, since its magic vapors had been dissipated in the bright sun of reality. he could no longer dream of flying, any more than he could build air castles over riding a horse. neither could he rack his soul with thoughts of mary v selmer, wondering whether she would ever get to caring much for a fellow. mary v had demonstrated with much frankness that she cared. he knew the feel of her arms around his neck, the look of her face close to his own, the sweet thrill of her warm young lips against his. he had bought her a modest little ring, and had watched the shine of it on the third finger of her tanned left hand when she left him--going gloveless that the ring might shine up at her. the first episode of her life thus happily finished, johnny was looking with round, boyish, troubled eyes upon the second. "long-distance call for you, mr. jewel," the clerk announced, when johnny strolled into the argonaut hotel in tucson for his mail. "just came in. the girl at the switchboard will connect you with the party." johnny glanced into his empty key box and went on to the telephone desk. it was mary v, he guessed. he had promised to call her up, but there hadn't been any news to tell, nothing but the flat monotony of inaction, which meant failure, and johnny jewel never liked talking of his failures, even to mary v. "oh, johnny, is that you? i've been waiting and _waiting_, and i just wondered if you had enlisted and gone off to war without even calling up to say good-by. i've been perfectly _frantic_. there's something--" "you needn't worry about me enlisting," johnny broke in, his voice the essence of gloom. "they won't have me." "won't _have_--why, johnny jewel! how _can_ the united states army be so stupid? why, i should think they would be glad to get--" "they don't look at me from your point of view, mary v." johnny's lips softened into a smile. she was a great little girl, all right. if it were left to her, the world would get down on its marrow bones and worship johnny jewel. "why? well, they won't take me and my airplane as a gift. won't have us around. they'll take me on as a common buck trooper, and that's all. and i can't afford--" "well, but johnny! don't they know what a perfectly wonderful flyer you are? why, i should think--" "they won't have me in aviation at all, even without the plane," said johnny. "the papers came back to-day. i was turned down--flat on my face! gol darn 'em, they can do without me now!" "well, i should say so!" cried mary v's thin, indignant voice in his ear. "how perfectly idiotic! i didn't want you to go, anyway. now you'll come back to the ranch, won't you, johnny?" the voice had turned wheedling. "we can have the duckiest times, flying around! dad'll give you a tremendously good--" "you seem to forget i owe your dad three or four thousand dollars," johnny cut in. "i'll come back to the ranch when that's paid, and not before." "well, but listen, johnny! dad doesn't look at it that way at all. he knows you didn't mean to let those horses be stolen. he doesn't feel you owe him anything at all, johnny. now we're engaged, he'll give you a good--" "you don't get me, mary v. i don't care what your father thinks. it's what i think that counts. this airplane of mine cost your dad a lot of good horses, and i've got to make that good to him. if i can't sell the darned thing and pay him up, i'll have to--" "i suppose what i think doesn't count anything at all! i say you don't owe dad a cent. now that you are going to marry me--" "you talk as if you was an encumbrance your dad had to pay me to take off his hands," blurted johnny distractedly. "our being engaged doesn't make any difference--" "oh, doesn't it? i'm tremendously glad to know you feel that way about it. since it doesn't make any difference whatever--" "aw, cut it out, mary v! you know darn well what i meant." "why, certainly. you mean that our being engaged doesn't make a particle--" "say, _listen_ a minute, will you! i'm going to pay your dad for those horses that were run off right under my nose while i was tinkering with this airplane. i don't care what you think, or what old sudden thinks, or what anybody on earth thinks! i know what i think, and that's a plenty. i'm going to make good before i marry you, or come back to the ranch. "why, good golly! do you think i'm going to be pointed out as a joke on the rolling r? do you think i'm going to walk around as a living curiosity, the only thing sudden selmer ever got stung on? oh--h, no! not little johnny! they can't say i got into the old man for a bunch of horses and the girl, and that old sudden had to stand for it! i told your dad i'd pay him back, and i'm going to do it if it takes a lifetime. "i'm calling that debt three thousand dollars--and i consider at that i'm giving him the worst of it. he's out more than that, i guess--but i'm calling it three thousand. so," he added with an extreme cheerfulness that proved how heavy was his load, "i guess i won't be out to supper, mary v. it's going to take me a day or two to raise three thousand--unless i can sell the plane. i'm sticking here trying, but there ain't much hope. about three or four a day kid me into giving 'em a trial flight--and to-morrow i'm going to start charging 'em five dollars a throw. i can't burn gas giving away joy rides to fellows that haven't any intention of buying me out. they'll have to dig up the coin, after this--i can let it go on the purchase price if they do buy, you see. that's fair enough--" "then you won't even listen to dad's proposition?" mary v's tone proved how she was clinging to the real issue. "it's a perfectly wonderful one, johnny, and really, for your own good--and not because we are engaged in the least--you should at least consider it. if you insist on owing him money, why, i suppose you could pay him back a little at a time out of the salary he'll pay you. he will pay you a good enough salary so you can do it nicely--" johnny laughed impatiently. "let your dad jump up my wages to a point where he can pay himself back, you mean," he retorted. "oh--h, no, mary v. you can't kid me out of this, so why keep on arguing? you don't seem to take me seriously. you seem to think this is just a whim of mine. why, good golly! i should think it would be plain enough to you that i've got to do it if i want to hold up my head and look men in the face. it's--why, it's an insult to my self-respect and my honesty to even hint that i could do anything but what i'm going to do. the very fact that your dad ain't going to force the debt makes it all the more necessary that i should pay it. "why, good golly, mary v! i'd feel better toward your father if he had me arrested for being an accomplice with those horse thieves, or slapped an attachment on the plane or something, than wave the whole thing off the way he's doing. it'd show he looked on me as a man, anyway. "i'll be darned if i appreciate this way he's got of treating it like a spoiled kid's prank. i'm going to make him recognize the fact that i'm a _man_, by golly, and that i look at things like a man. he's got to be proud to have me in the family, before i come into the family. he ain't going to take me in as one more kid to look after. i'll come in as his equal in honesty and business ability,--instead of just a new fad of mary v's--" "well, for gracious sake, johnny! if you feel that way about it, why didn't you say so? you don't seem to care what i think, or how i feel about it. you don't seem to care whether you ever get married or not. and i'm sure i wasn't the one that did the proposing. why, it will take years and _years_ to square up with dad, if you insist on doing it in a regular business way--" johnny's harsh laugh stopped her. "you see, you do know where i stand, after all. if i let it slide, the way you want me to, that's exactly what you'd be thinking after awhile--that i never had squared up with your dad. you'd look down on me, and so would your father and your mother. they'd always be afraid i'd do some fool thing and sting your dad again for a few thousand." "well, of all the crazy talk! and i've gone to the trouble of coaxing dad to give you a share in the rolling r instead of putting it in his will for me. and dad's going to do it--" "oh, no, he isn't. i don't want any share in the rolling r. i'd go to jail before i'd take it." mary v produced woman's final argument. "if you cared anything at all for me, johnny, when i ask you to come back and do what dad is willing to have you do, you'd do it. i don't see how you can be stubborn enough to refuse such a perfectly wonderful offer. you wouldn't, if you cared a snap about me. you act just as if you were sorry--" "aw, lay off that don't-care stuff!" johnny growled indignantly. "caring for you has got nothing to do with it, i tell you. it's just simply a question of what kinda mark i am. you know i care!" "well, then, if you do you'll come right over here. if you start now you can be here by sundown, and it's nice and quiet and no wind at all. you've absolutely no excuse, johnny, and you know it. when dad's willing to forget about those horses--" "when i come, your dad won't have anything to forget about," johnny reiterated obstinately. "i do wish you'd look at the thing right!" mary v changed her tactics, relying now upon intimidation. "i shall begin to look for you in about an hour," she said sweetly. "i shall keep on looking till you come, or till it gets too dark. if you care anything about me, johnny, you'll be here. i'll have dinner all ready, so you needn't wait to eat." then she hung up. johnny rattled the hook impatiently, called hello with irritated insistence, and finally succeeded in raising central's impersonal: "number, please?" whereupon he flung himself angrily out of the booth. "do you want to pay at this end?" the girl at the desk looked up at him with a gleam of curiosity. mentally johnny accused her of "listening in." he snapped an affirmative at her and waited until "long distance" told her the amount. "four dollars and eighty-five cents," she announced, giving him a pert little smile. johnny flipped a small gold piece to the desk and marched off, scorning his fifteen cents change with the air of a millionaire. johnny was angry, grieved, disappointed, worried--and would have been wholly miserable had not his anger so dominated his other emotions that he could continue mentally his argument against the attitude of mary v and the rolling r. they refused to take him seriously, which hurt johnny's self-esteem terribly. were he older, were he a property owner, sudden selmer would not so lightly wave aside that debt. he would pay johnny the respect of fighting for his just rights. but no--just because he was barely of age, just because he was johnny jewel, they all acted as though--why, darn 'em, they acted as though he was a kid offering to earn money to pay for a broken plate! and mary v-- well, mary v was a great little girl, but she would have to learn some day that johnny was master. he considered this as good a day as any for the lesson. better, because he was really upholding his principles by not going to the ranch meekly submissive, because mary v had announced that she would be looking for him. johnny winced from the thought of mary v, out on the porch, watching the sky toward tucson for the black speck that would be his airplane; listening for the high, strident drone that would herald his coming. she would cry herself to sleep. but she had deliberately sentenced herself to tears and disappointment, he told himself sternly. she must have known he was in earnest about not coming. she had no right to think she could kid him out of something big and vital to his honor. she ought to know him by this time. briefly he considered returning to the hotel and calling up the ranch, just to tell her not to look for him because he was not coming. but the small matter of paying the toll deterred him. it was humiliating to admit, even to himself, that he could not afford another long-distance conversation with mary v, but he had come to the point in his finances where a two-bit piece looked large as a dollar. he would miss that small gold piece. since the government had refused to consider accepting his services and paying him a bonus for his plane, he would have to sell it--if he could. there it sat, reared up on its two little wheels, its nose poked rakishly out of an old shed that had been remodelled to accommodate it, its tail sticking out at the other side so that it slightly resembled a turtle with its shell not quite covering its extremities. the mexican boy whom johnny had hired to watch the plane in his absence lay asleep under one wing. a faint odor of varnish testified to the heat of the day that was waning toward a sultry night. without disturbing the boy johnny rolled a smoke and stood, as he had stood many and many a time, staring at his prize and wondering what to do with it. he had to have money. that was flat, final, admitting no argument. at a reasonable estimate, three thousand dollars were tied up in that machine. he could not afford to sell it for any less. yet there did not seem to be a man in the country willing to pay three thousand dollars for it. it was a curiosity, a thing to come out and stare at, a thing to admire; but not to buy, even though johnny had as an added inducement offered to teach the buyer to fly before the purchase price was taken from the bank. the stalking shadow of a man moving slowly warned johnny of an approaching visitor. he did not trouble to turn his head; he even moved farther into the shed, to tighten a turnbuckle that was letting a cable sag a little. "hello, old top--how they using yuh?" greeted a voice that had in it a familiar, whining note. johnny's muscles stiffened. hostility, suspicion, surprise surged confusingly through his brain. he turned as one who was bracing himself to meet an enemy, with a primitive prickling where the bristles used to rise on the necks of our cavemen ancestors. chapter two and the cat came back "why, hello, bland," johnny exclaimed after the first blank silence. "i thought you was tied up in a sack and throwed into the pond long ago!" the visitor grinned with a sour droop to his mouth, a droop which johnny knew of old. "but the cat came back," he followed the simile, blinking at johnny with his pale, opaque blue eyes. "what yuh doing here? starting an aviation school?" "yeah. free instruction. want a lesson?" johnny retorted, only half the sarcasm intended for bland; the rest going to the town that had failed to disgorge a buyer for what he had to sell. "aw, i suppose you think you could give me lessons, now you've learned to do a little straightaway flying without landing on your tail," bland fleered, with the impatience of the seasoned flyer for the novice who thinks well of himself and his newly acquired skill. "say, that was some bump you give yourself on the dome when we lit over there in that sand patch. i tried to tell yuh that sand looked loose--" "yes, you did--not! you was scared stiff. your face looked like the inside of a raw bacon rind!" "sure, i was scared. so would you of been if you'd a known as much about it as i knew. i knew we was due to pile up, when you grabbed the control away from me. you'll make a flyer, all right--and a good one, if yuh last long enough. but you can't learn it all in a day, bo--take it from me. anyway, i got no kick to make. it was you and the plane that got the bumps. all i done was bite my tongue half off!" boy that he was, johnny laughed over this. the idea of bland biting his tongue tickled him and served to blur his antagonism for the tricky aviator who had played so large a part in his salvaging of this very airplane. "uh course you'll laugh--but you wasn't laughing then. i'll say you wasn't. i thought you was croaked. cost something to repair the plane, too. i'm saying it did. had to have a new propeller, and a new crank-case for the motor--cost the old man at the ranch close to three hundred dollars before i turned her over to him, ready to take the air again. that's including what he paid me, of course. but i guess you know what it cost, when he handed you the bill." this was news to johnny, news that made his soul squirm. lying there sick at the rolling r ranch, he had not known what was taking place. he had found his airplane ready to fly, when he was at last able to walk out to the corrals, but no one seemed to know how much the repairing had cost. certainly sudden selmer himself had suffered a lapse of memory on the subject. all the more reason then why johnny should repay his debt. "what i'm wondering about is why you aren't in los angeles," he evaded the unpleasant subject awkwardly. "old sudden gave you money to go, and dumped you at the depot, didn't he? that's what mary v told me." "he did--and i missed my train. and while i was waiting for the next i must 'a' et something poison. i was awful sick. i guess it was ten days or so before i come to enough to know where i was. i've had hard luck, bo--i'll say i have. i was robbed while i was sick, and only for a tambourine queen i got acquainted with, i guess i'd 'a' died. they're treacherous as hell, though. long as she thought i had money--oh, well, they's no use expecting kindness in this world. or gratitude. i'm always helpin' folks out and gittin' kicked and cussed for my pay. lookit the way i lived with snakes and lizards--lived in a cave, like a coyote!--to help you git this plane in shape. you was to take me to los for pay--but i ain't there yet. i'm stuck here, sick and hungry--i ain't et a mouthful since last night, and then i only had a dish of sour beans that damn' mex. hussy handed out to me through a window! me, bland halliday, a flyer that has made his hundreds doing exhibition work; that has had his picture on the front page of big city papers, and folks followin' him down the street just to get a look at him! me--why, a yellow dawg has got the edge on me for luck! i might better be dead--" his loose lips quivered. tears of self-pity welled up into his pale blue eyes. he turned away and stared across the barren calf lot that johnny used for a flying field. johnny began to have premonitory qualms of a sympathy which he knew was undeserved. bland halliday had got a square deal--more than a square deal; for sudden, johnny knew, had paid him generously for repairing the plane while johnny was sick. bland had undoubtedly squandered the money in one long debauch, and there was no doubt in johnny's mind of bland's reason for missing his train. he was a bum by nature and he would double-cross his own mother, johnny firmly believed. yet, there was johnny's boyish sympathy that never failed sundry stray dogs and cats that came in his way. it impelled him now to befriend bland halliday. "well, since the cat's come back, i suppose it must have its saucer of milk," he grinned, by way of hiding the fact that the lip-quiver had touched him. "i haven't taken any nourishment myself for quite some time. come on and eat." he started back toward town, and bland halliday followed him like a lonesome pup. on the way, johnny took stock of bland in little quick glances from the corner of his eyes. bland had been shabby when johnny discovered him one day on the depot platform of a tiny town farther down the line. he had been shabbier after three weeks in johnny's camp, working on the airplane in hope of a free trip to the coast. but his shabbiness now surpassed anything johnny had known, because bland had evidently made pitiful attempts to hide it. that, johnny guessed, was because of the hussy bland had mentioned. bland's shoes were worn through on the sides, and he had blackened his ragged socks to hide the holes. somewhere he had got a blue serge coat, from which the lining sagged in frayed wrinkles. his pockets were torn down at the corners; buttons were gone, grease spots and beer stains patterned the cloth. under the coat he wore a pink-and-white silk shirt, much soiled and with the neck frankly open, imitating sport style because of missing buttons. he looked what he was by nature; what he was by training,--a really skilful birdman,--did not show at all. he begged a smoke from johnny and slouched along, with an aimless garrulity talking of his hard luck, now curiously shot with hope. which irritated johnny vaguely, since instinct told him whence that hope had sprung. still, sympathy made him kind to bland just because bland was so worthless and so miserable. at a dingy, fly-infested place called "red's quick lunch" whither johnny, mindful of his low finances, piloted him, bland ordered largely and complained because his "t bone" was too rare, and afterwards because it was tough. johnny dined on "coffee and sinkers" so that he could afford bland's steak and "french fried" and hot biscuits and pie and two cups of coffee. the cat, he told himself grimly, was not content with a saucer of milk. it was on the top shelf of the pantry, lapping all the cream off the pan! afterwards he took bland to the hotel where his room was paid for until the end of the week, led him up there, produced an old suit of clothes that had not seemed to wear a sufficiently prosperous air for the owner of an airplane, and suggestively opened the door to the bathroom. bland took the clothes and went in, mumbling a fear that he would do himself mortal injury if he took a bath right after a meal. "if you die, you'll die clean, anyway," johnny told him grimly. so bland took a bath and emerged looking almost respectable. johnny had brought his second-best shoes out, and bland put them on, pursing his loose lips because the shoes were a size too small. but johnny had thrown bland's shoes out of the window, so bland had to bear the pinching. johnny sat on the edge of the dresser smoking and fanning the smoke away from his round, meditative eyes while he looked bland over. bland caught the look, and in spite of the shoes he grinned amiably. "i take it back, bo, what i said about gratitude. you got it, after all." "huh!" johnny grunted. "gratitude, huh?" "i knowed you wouldn't throw down a friend, old top. i was in the dumps. a feller'll talk most any way when he's feeling the after effects, and is hungry and broke. now i'm my own man again. what next? name it, bo--i'm game." "next," said johnny, "is bed, i guess. you're clean, now--you can sleep here." bland showed that he could feel the sentiment called compunction. "much obliged, bo--but i don't want to crowd you--" "you won't crowd me," said johnny drily, "i aim to sleep with the plane." bland may have read johnny's reason for sleeping with his airplane, but beyond one quick look he made no sign. "still nuts over it--i'll say you are," he grunted. "you wait till you've been in the game long as i have, bo." with a blanket and pillow bought on his way through the town, johnny disposed himself for the night under the nose of the plane with the wheels of the landing gear at his back. he was not by nature a suspicious young man, but he knew bland halliday; and to know bland was to distrust him. he felt that he was taking a necessary precaution, now that he knew bland was in tucson. with the landing gear behind him, no one could move the airplane in the night without first moving him. now that he thought of it, bland had been left fifty miles farther down the line, to catch his train. tucson was a perfectly illogical place for him to be in, even for the purpose of carousing. one would certainly expect him to hurry to the city of his desires and take his pleasure there. johnny decided that bland must still have an eye on the plane. that he was secretly envious of bland as an aviator did not add to his mental comfort. bland could speak with slighting familiarity of "the game," and assume a boredom not altogether a pose. bland had drunk deep and satisfyingly of the cup which johnny, to save his honor, must put away from him after a tantalising sip or two. not until bland had said, "wait till you've been in the game as long as i have," had johnny realized to the full just what it would mean to him to part with his airplane without being accepted by the government as an aviator. at the rolling r, when his conscience debt to sudden pressed so heavily, he had figured very nicely and had found the answer to his problem without much trouble. to enlist as an aviator with his airplane, or to sell the plane in tucson, turn the proceeds over to sudden to pay his debt and enlist as an aviator without the machine, had seemed perfectly simple. either way would be making good the mistakes of his past and paving the way for future achievements. parting with the plane had not promised to so wrench the very heart out of him when he fully expected to fly faster and farther in airplanes owned by the government; faster and farther toward the goal of all red-blooded young males: glory or wealth, the hero's wreath of laurel or the smile of dame fortune. mary v stood on the heights waiting for him, as johnny had planned and dreamed. he would come back to her a captain, maybe--perhaps even a major, in these hot times of swift achievement. they would all be proud to shake his hand, those jeering ones who called him skyrider for a joke. captain jewel would not have sounded bad at all. but-- there is no dodging the finality of uncle sam's no. they had not wanted johnny jewel to fly for fame and his country's honor. and if he sold his own airplane, how then would he fly? how could he ever hope to be in the game as long as bland had been? how could he do anything but go back meekly to the rolling r ranch and ride bronks for mary v's father, and be hailed as skyrider still, who had no more any hope of riding the sky? gloom at last plumbed the depths of johnny's soul, and showed him where grew the root of his unalterable determination to combat mary v's plan to have him at the ranch. much as he loved mary v he would hate going back to the dull routine of ranch life. (and after all, a youth like johnny loves nothing quite so much as his air castles.) as a rider of bronks he was spoiled, he who had ridden triumphant the high air lanes. he had talked of paying his debt to sudden, he had talked of his self-respect and his honesty and his pride--but above and beyond them all he was fighting to save his castle in the air. debt or no debt, he could never go back to the rolling r and be a rancher. lying there under his airplane and staring up at the starred purple of the night he knew that he could not go back. yet he knew too that once he had sold his airplane he would be almost as helpless financially as bland halliday, unless he returned to the only trade he knew, the trade of riding bronks and performing the various other duties that would be his portion at the rolling r. johnny pictured himself back at the rolling r; pictured himself riding out with the boys at dawn after horses, or sweating in the corrals, spitting dust and profanity through long, hot hours. there was a lure, of course; a picturesque, intangible attraction that calls to the wild blood of youth. but not as calls this other life which he had tasted. there was no gainsaying the fact--ranch life had grown too tame, too stale for johnny jewel. and there was no gainsaying that other fact--that mary v would have to reconcile herself to being an aviator's wife, if she would mate with johnny. he went to sleep thinking bitterly that neither he nor mary v need concern themselves at present over that point. it would be some time before the issue need be faced, judging from johnny's present prospects. chapter three johnny would do stunts bland woke him, just as day was coming. a new bland, fresh shaven,--with johnny's razor,--and with a certain languid animation in his manner that was in sharp contrast to his extreme dejection of the night before. "thought i'd come out and see if you was going to make a flight this morning," he said. "it's a good morning for it, bo. how's she working, these days? old man at the ranch wouldn't let me try her out after i'd fixed her up; said you was too sick to have the motor going. so i couldn't be sure i'd made a good job of it. give you any trouble?" johnny sat up and knuckled his eyes, his mouth wide open in a capital o. it seemed to him that bland had his nerve, and he guessed shrewdly that the aviator was simply making sure of his breakfast. when cats come back they have a fashion of hanging around the kitchen, he remembered. oh, well, there was nothing to be gained by being nasty and even bland's company was better than none. "hey, ain't yuh awake yet? i asked yuh how the motor's acting." "o--o--h, aw-righ!" yawned johnny, blinking around for his boots. "i ain't been flying much. just flew over here from the ranch, and a little circle now and then when something come along that looked like money. i wanted to keep her in good shape in case the gover'ment--" "trying to sell it back to the gover'ment, huh? i coulda told yuh, bo, they wouldn't take it as a gift. she's a back number now--a has-been, from the gover'ment viewpoint. why don't you keep it? what yuh want to sell it for, f'r cat's sake? she's a gold mine if you know how to work it, bo--take it from me." "well, i wish to thunder you'd show me the gold, then," johnny retorted crossly, pulling on his boots. "lend us a smoke, will yuh, old top? the money's here, all right, if yuh just know how to get it out. and flying for the gover'ment ain't the way. i'll say a man's got to be his own boss if he wants to pull down real money. long as you're workin' for somebody else, he's getting the velvet. you ain't, believe me. and the gover'ment as a boss--" "well, good golly, come to the point!" snapped johnny. "how can i make money with this plane?" he gave it a disgruntled look, and turned to bland. "she's a bird of a millionaire's toy, if you ask me," he said. "she's a fiend for gas and oil, and every time you turn 'er around there's some darned thing to be fixed or replaced. i'm about broke, trying to keep her up till i can sell out. it's coffee and sinkers for you, old timer, if you're going to eat on me. another meal like you had last night, and we'll both have to skip a few in order to buy gas to joy-ride some cheap sport that lets on he's thinking of buying. i suppose your idea is--" "f'r cat's sake give me a chance to tell yuh! course you'll go broke trying to support the plane. you're goin' at it backwards. make the plane support you. that's my idea. and you do it by exhibition flying for money--not sailin' around giving the whole damn country a free treat. "i know--you think i'm a bum and all that; maybe you think i'm a crook, fer all i know. and you turn up your nose at anything i say. but lemme tell yuh, old top, i ain't a d. and o. because i never made any money flyin'. it's because i blowed what i made. and it's because i made so damn' much it went to my head and made a fool outa me. listen here, bo: i bought me a stutz outa what i earned flyin' in one season--and i blowed money right and left and smashed the car and like to of broke my neck, and had to pay damages to the other feller that peeled my roll down to the size of a pencil. the point is, it took _money_ to do them things, didn't it? and i made it flyin' my own plane. that's what you want to soak into your system. _i made big money flying_. what i done with the money don't need to worry you--you ain't copyin' me for morals. "now what you want to do is learn some stunts, first off. you learn to loop and tail-slide and the fallin' leaf, and to write your name, and them things. it ain't so hard--not for a guy like you that ain't got sense enough to be afraid of nothing. the way you went off in that plane with the girl made my hair stand on end, and that's no kiddin', neither. if you'd had a fear germ in your system you wouldn't 'a' done that. but you done it, and got away with it, is the point. and you been gittin' away with it right along--and you not knowin' your motor any more'n i know ridin' on a horse!" "aw, say! that's goin' too far," protested johnny, but bland gave him no heed. "you learn the stunts--early in the morning when there ain't the hull town out to rubber--and then pull off an exhibition or two. seventy-five dollars is the least you ever need to expect. don't go in the air for less. from that up--depends on how spectacular you are. the public loves to watch for the death fall. that's what they pay to see--not hopin' you get killed, but not wantin' to miss seeing it in case yuh do. and with this the only airplane around here--why, say, bo, it's a cinch!" johnny fanned the smoke away from his face and eyed bland with lofty tolerance. "and where do you expect to come in? you needn't kid yourself into hoping i'll take you for a self-forgetful martyr person. what's the little joker, bland?" bland turned his pale, opaque stare upon johnny for a minute. "aw, for cat's sake, gimme the doubt, bo! i'm human in more ways than tryin' to see how much booze i kin lap up. it's a chance i want to start fresh. this bumming around ain't getting me anything. i'm sick of it. you gotta be learnt to do exhibition stuff, and i'm the guy that can learn yuh. you'll want a mechanician to keep your motor in shape. i can _make_ a motor, gimme the tools. you want somebody that knows the game to kinda manage things. you're skyrider johnny, same as the boys at the ranch calls yuh. yon gotta have a flunkey, ain't yuh? i'm willin' to be it. i'll change my name, so nobody needs to know it's bland halliday. or you can gimme a share in the net profits, and i'll keep the name and make it pull things our way. they's no use talking, bo, i've got the goods! the name bland halliday is a trademark for flyin'--and never mind if it also stands for damfool. i'll brace up and give yuh the best i got. honest, that's what i want--a chance to get on my feet agin. i'd ruther help you fly your plane than fly one of my own. i'd run amuck agin if i owned anything i could raise money on. "if you think i tried to do you dirt, back there in the desert, bo, you're wrong. ab-so-lutely. i thought you was fixing to double-cross me, and git away with the plane and leave me there. it got my goat--i'll say it did--that desert stuff. so i hid the gas, so you couldn't go off and leave me. but that's behind us. you can give me a chance now to straighten up, and i can put you in the way to make big money. you think it over, bo. they's no great hurry, and we can make a flight now and see how she stacks up. be a sport--go fill up the tank and let's go." johnny ground the cigarette stub under his heel in the dirt, shrugged his shoulders with a fine imitation of perfect indifference, and yawned. he would think over bland's idea. he did not, of course, intend to fall for anything that did not look like good business, and he was not at all anxious to have bland for a partner. indeed, having bland for a partner was about the last thing johnny would ever expect himself to do. still, there was no harm in letting bland down easy. a flight or two, maybe, would give johnny some good pointers. he had learned much from bland, in a very short time, he admitted readily to himself. he could learn more, and he could let bland go over the motor. by that time he would maybe have a buyer. if not, he would have time to decide about exhibition flying. johnny did not know that as he went after gas his step was springier than it had been for a long, long while. he did not know why it was that he whistled while he filled the torpedo-shaped tank--indeed, johnny did not even know that he whistled, nor that it was the first time since he had worked over his plane down at sinkhole camp when all his dreams were bright, and bad luck had not knocked at his door. yet he did whistle while he made ready for flight, and his eyes were big and round and eager, said he moved with the impatient energy of a youth going to his favorite game. these signs mary v would have recognized immediately; johnny did not know the signs existed. bland helped himself to a pair of new coveralls of johnny's and tinkered with the motor. johnny went around the plane, testing cables and trying to conceal even from himself his new hope of keeping it. "all right, bo," bland announced at last. "kick the block away and let's run her out. she sounds pretty fair--better than i expected." it pleased johnny that bland seemed to take it as a matter of course that he should occupy the front seat. the last time they had flown together, bland had occupied it perforce, with johnny and two guns behind him. after all, johnny reflected, he would not have been so suspicious of bland if mary v had not influenced him. and every one knows that girls take notions with very little reason for the foundation. bland was a bum, but the little cuss seemed to want to make good, and a man would be pretty poor stuff that wouldn't help a fellow reform. with that comfortable readjustment of his mental attitude toward the birdman, johnny strapped himself in, pulled down his goggles while bland eased in the motor. he saw bland glance to right and left with the old vigilance. he felt the testing of controls, the unconscious tensing of nerves for the start. they raced down the calf pasture, nosed upward and went whirring away from a dwindling earth, straight toward the heart of the dawn. it was like drinking of some heady wine that blurs one's troubles and pushes them far down over the horizon. johnny forgot that he had problems to solve or worries that nagged at him incessantly. he forgot that mary v, away off there to the southwest, had probably cried herself to sleep the night before because he had disappointed her. he was flying up and away from all that. he was soaring free as a bird, and the rush of a strong, clean wind was in his face. the roar of the motor was a great, throbbing harmony in his ears. for a little while the world would hold nothing else. they were climbing, climbing, writing an invisible spiral in the air. bland half turned his head, and johnny caught his meaning with telepathic keenness. they were going to loop, and bland wanted him to yield the control and to watch closely how the thing was done. they swooped like a hawk that has seen a meadow mouse amongst the grass. they climbed steeply, swung clean over, so that the earth was oddly slipping past far above their heads; swung down, flattened out and flew straight. it was glorious. a second time bland looped, and yet again. it was exactly as johnny had known it would be. he who had flown so long in his day-dreaming, who had performed wonderful acrobatics in his imagination, felt the sensation old, accustomed, milder even than in his dreams. once more, and he did the loop himself, hardly conscious of bland's presence. bland turned his head, signalling, and did a flop, righted, and was flying straight in the opposite direction. again, and flew southeast by the sun. they practised that manoeuver again and again before johnny felt fairly sure of himself, but once he did it he was one proud young man! all this while the familiar landmarks were slipping behind them. tucson was out of sight, had they thought to look for it. and all this while the sturdy motor was humming its song of force triumphant. subsequently it stuttered faintly in expressing itself. triumph was there, but it was not so joyously sure of itself. bland glided, cocking an anxious ear to listen while he slowed the motor. it was there, the stutter--more pronounced than before; and once that pulsing power begins to flag a little and grow uncertain, there is but one thing to do. they glided another ten miles or so before bland picked a spot that looked safe for landing. they had one ill-chosen landing still vivid in their memory, and johnny carried a long, white scar along the side of his head and a tenderness of the scalp to assist him in remembering. wherefore they came down circumspectly in a flat little field beside a flat little stream, with a huddle of flat dwellings drawn back shyly behind a thin group of willows. they came down gently, bouncing toward the willows as though they meant to drive up to the very doorway of the nearest hut. as they came on, their great wings out-spread rigidly, the propeller whirring at slackened speed, the motor sputtering unevenly, the doorway spewed forth three fat squaws and some naked papooses who fled shrieking into the brush behind the willows. chapter four mary v to the rescue mary v selmer was a young woman of quick impulses, a complete disdain for consequences as yet unseen, and a disposition to have her own way, to override obstacles man-made or sent by fate to thwart her desires. ask any man on the rolling r ranch, where mary v was born; they will bear witness that this is true. mary v had fired the first gun in the battle of wills. she had told johnny jewel that she would expect him to fly straight to the ranch--if johnny loved her. mary v did not mean to seem dictatorial; she merely wanted johnny to come back to the rolling r, and she took what seemed to her to be the surest means of bringing him. so, serenely sure of johnny's love, she had no misgivings when the sun went down and those wonderful, opal tints of the afterglow filled all the sky. johnny would be hungry, of course. she wheedled bedelia, the cook, into letting her keep the veal roast hot in the oven of the gasoline range. she herself spread one of mommie's cherished lunch cloths on bedelia's little square table in the kitchen alcove, where she and johnny could be alone while he ate. she dipped generously into the newest preserves and filled a glass dish full for him. she raided the great refrigerator, closing her eyes to the morrow's reckoning. johnny would be hungry, johnny was a sort of prodigal, and the fatted calf should be killed figuratively and the ring placed upon his finger. she told her mommie and her dad that johnny was coming, and that everything was all right, and johnny would be sensible and settle down now, because he was not going to enlist after all. she kissed them both and flew back to the kitchen because she had thought of something else that johnny would like to eat. this, you must understand, was while johnny was feeding bland,--and himself,--in "red's quick lunch", and worrying because bland tactlessly chose such expensive fare as t-bone steak and french fried. she was out on the porch, watching the sky toward tucson and looking rather wistful, while johnny was generously sorting out clothes for bland and insisting upon the bath and the change before bland should sleep in johnny's bed. mary v, you will observe, had no telepathic sense at all. she watched while dark came and brought its star canopy,--and did not bring johnny. long after she saw the rim of hills draw back into vague shadows, she remained on the porch and listened for the hum of the airplane speeding toward her. he would come, of course; he loved her. johnny did love her more than he had ever loved any one in his life, but a man's love is not like a woman's love, they say. "he must have had some trouble with his motor," mary v observed optimistically to her sleepy parents, when their early bedtime arrived. "i'm going to leave the lights all on, so he'll see where to land. it will be tremendously exciting to hear him come buzzing up in the dark. it'll sound exactly like an air raid--only he won't have any bombs to drop." "he'll have himself to drop," her mother tactlessly pointed out. "i guess he won't do much flying around in the dark, mary v. not if he's got sense enough to come in when it rains. you go to bed, and don't be setting out there in the mosquitoes. they're thick, to-night." "well, for gracious sake, mom! it's perfectly easy to fly at night. over in france they _always_--" "it's the lightin' i'm talking about," her mother interrupted with that terrible logic that insists upon stating unpleasant truths, "and this ain't france, mary v. you go on to bed. i'm going to turn out the lights." "and have him bump right into the house? a person would think you wanted johnny to smash himself all to pieces again! and it isn't going to cost anything so terrible to leave the lights on for another little minute, mom! a few cents' worth of gas will run the dynamo--" "for land's sake, mary v, don't go into a tantrum just at bedtime. who's talking about cost? your father can't sleep with all the lights turned on in the house, and neither can i. and it ain't a particle of use for you to sit up and wait for johnny; he won't come to-night, and you needn't look for him." mary v did not want to hear a statement of that kind, even if it were a mere argumentative flourish on the part of a selfish, unsympathetic parent who would jeopardize a person's life rather than annoy herself with a light or two burning. mary v immediately had what her mother called a tantrum. that is, she began to cry and to declaim unreasonably that no one cared whether johnny smashed himself all to pieces in the dark--that perhaps certain persons wished that johnny would fall and be killed, just so they could sleep! her mother may have been weak in discipline, but now that mary v was spoiled to the extent of having tantrums, she proved herself a sensible, level-headed sort of woman. she went away to her bed quite unmoved by the tears and self-pity, and left mary v alone. "you turn out all the lights except the porch light, mary v," old sudden himself commanded from his bedroom door. "i guess if he comes, one light will be as good as a dozen. you better do as your mother tells you. the kid's got more sense than to tackle flying from tucson after sundown. if i thought he didn't have, i'd kick him off the ranch!" this perfectly heartless statement served to distract mary v's mind from her mother's lack of feeling. she obediently turned out the lights,--all the lights, since they meant to kill johnny in cold blood!--and wept anew upon the darkened porch, while swarms of mosquitoes hummed just without the screen, sending a slim scout through now and then to torment mary v, who spatted her chiffon-covered arms viciously and wished that she were dead, since no one had any feelings or any heart or any conscience on that ranch. it was midnight before healthy youth demanded sleep and dulled her half-feigned agonies of self-pity. it was morning before she began to feel really uneasy about johnny. after her tantrum she slept late, so that when she awoke it was past time for johnny's arrival, supposing he had started at sunrise, which she now admitted to herself was the most sensible time for the flight. eight o'clock--and he must have started, else he would have called her up on the 'phone and told her he was not coming. for that matter, he would have called up the night before if he had not meant to do as she wanted him to do. of course, johnny was awfully stubborn sometimes, and he might have waited until morning, just to worry her. but he would have called up if he hadn't intended to come. a little thing like hanging up her receiver would not bother him, she argued, and a little obstacle like long-distance toll never occurred to mary v, whose idea of poverty was vague indeed. he must have started this morning, at the latest. and he should have been here before now. to make sure that he had not come while she slept mary v went to a window overlooking the open space between the house and corrals. it was empty, but to make doubly sure she asked bedelia. for answer, bedelia threatened to quit, declaring shrilly that she would not work where nothing was safe under lock and key, and a girl might work her fingers to the bone putting up jell for spoiled, ungrateful, meddlesome matties to waste, and so forth and so on. mary v wisely withdrew from the kitchen without having her question answered. she asked no more questions of any one. in silk kimono and indian moccasins, one of her pet incongruities, she forthwith explored the yard down by the corrals which the bunk house had hidden from her view. there was no sign of johnny jewel's airplane anywhere. mary v was thorough, even to the point of looking for tracks of the little wheels, but at last she was convinced, and returned to the porch to digest the ominous fact of johnny's failure to arrive. he must have started,--she would not admit the possibility that he had deliberately ignored her ultimatum,--but she would make sure. so she called tucson on the telephone and was presently in conversation with the clerk at johnny's hotel. hotel clerks are usually quite positive that they know what they are supposed to know about their guests. this clerk interviewed somebody while mary v held the line, and later returned to assure her that mr. jewel had been seen leaving the lobby the night before, and had not returned. a strange young gentleman had occupied mr. jewel's room. no, mr. jewel had not been seen since last evening. the clerk was positive, but since mary v's voice was young and feminine, he permitted her to hold the line while he called the night clerk to the 'phone. the result was disheartening. mr. jewel had brought in a young man, and later had left the hotel. the young man had gone out very early and neither had returned. could he do anything else for her? mary v thanked him coldly and hung up the receiver, mentally calling the clerk names that were not flattering. why in the world did he keep harping on that one fact that johnny had gone out and had not come back? why didn't he know where johnny had gone? what, for gracious sake, was a hotel clerk for, if not to tell a person what she wanted to know? the strange young man who had slept in johnny's room meant nothing at all to mary v just then. she had a dislike of creating unnecessary excitement, but it did seem as though something ought to be done about johnny. all her faith was pinned to the fact that he had let her final word stand uncontradicted; he had not told her he would not come. she went outside and stared for awhile in the direction of tucson, turning with a little start when her mother spoke just behind her. "did johnny tell you he was coming, mary v?" "my goodness, mom! of _course_, he--well, it was just the same as saying he would. i told him he had to come and i'd expect him, and he didn't say he wouldn't. why, for gracious sake, do you suppose i went and fixed his din--dinner--?" mary v gulped down a sob she had not suspected was present. "well, there, now, don't cry about it. you'll have plenty better reasons to cry after you're married to him. seems to me the boy's changed considerable, if he comes and goes at the crook of your finger, mary v. johnny's most as stubborn as you be, if i'm any judge. if i was in your place, mary v, i'd 'phone and find out if he's started, before i commenced crying because he was late." "i did 'phone. and he wasn't at the hotel--" "land sakes, child, i heard you! you might as well have asked what the weather was like. if i was you i'd ask if his airplane is there. if it is, there's no sense in you straining your eyes looking for it. if it ain't, he's likely on the way somewhere. but from what i heard of your talk last night, and from what i know about johnny--" "for pity's _sake_, mom! if you listened in--" "there now, mary v, you shouldn't object to your own mother overhearing anything you've got to say. and if you expect me to clap my hands over my cars and start on a long lope across the desert the minute you begin to 'phone--" mary v laughed and gave her mother a bear-hug. mommie was a plump matron, and the idea of her loping across the desert with her hands over her ears was funny. "you do have tremendously sensible ideas, mommie, though you simply do not understand johnny as i do. i am perfectly positive that he would not disappoint me. however, i'll just make sure when he started. i'm so afraid of some horrible accident--" "well, you 'phone first, before you begin to borrow trouble," her mother advised her shrewdly. "i know if you had laid down the law to me the way you did to johnny, i'd stay away if it was the last thing i did on earth. and johnny--" mary v called tucson again, and mommie subsided so as not to interrupt. there was a delay while the hotel clerk obligingly sent a boy over to where johnny kept his airplane. while she waited for his ring, mary v went restlessly out to watch the sky toward tucson. half an hour slipped away. mary v was just declaring pettishly that she could walk to tucson and find out, while she waited for that idiotic clerk, when he called her. mary v listened, hung up the receiver with trembling fingers, and went to find her mother in the kitchen. "mommie, the plane is gone, and they are almost sure he went last night, because he was seen going that way after he left the hotel. so he did start, just as i told him to do--and something awful has happened to him--and where's dad?" mary v's father, whom men for some unaccountable reason called "sudden" when he was not present, crawled out from under the rear end of his battered touring car when mary v's moccasins and the fluttering hem of blue kimono moved within his range of vision. sudden's face was smudged with black grease and the dust of the desert, and in his hand was a crescent wrench worn shiny where it had nipped nuts and bolts. "you musta done some fancy driving the other day," he greeted his anxious-faced daughter. "didn't you know you was sliding a wheel every time you threw on the brake? wonder to me is you didn't skid off a grade somewhere!" he hitched himself into a new and uncomfortable pose and set the wrench on a nut, screwing his well-fed face into an agonized grimace while he put his full strength into the turn. "if i could find a man that i'd trust my life with on these roads, i'd have me a chauffeur," he grumbled for the millionth time. "that reformed blacksmith musta welded these nuts on to the bolts," he added, and muttered something savage when the wrench slipped and he barked a knuckle. "well, what yuh want? go ahead and have it, or do it--only don't stand watching me when i'm trying to--" he gritted his teeth, threw the wrench away and picked up another. "go ask your mother," he exclaimed. "tell her i'll let you if she will." at another time mary v would have deeply resented the implication that she never approached her dad save when she wanted something; or more likely she would have stated her want before her dad had time to speak. just now she was hopefully watching a buzzard that sailed on outstretched, rigid wings, high in the sky. it seemed to be circling toward the ranch, and it looked like an airplane flying very high. mary v's heart forgot to beat while she watched it. but the buzzard sighted something, flapped its wings and went off in another direction, and the girl winced as though some one had dropped a leaden weight on her chest. "dad!" the voice did not sound like mary v's, and her father ducked his head out where he could look up at her with startled attention. "we must have the car--and all the boys--and get out and find johnny. he--he started in his airplane, to come to the ranch. and they haven't seen him since last night, and--and you know what happened at sinkhole!" sudden got heavily to his feet and stood looking down at her, his whimsical mouth slack with dismay. but he pulled himself together and took the dominant, cool initiative which was so much a part of his nature. "you say he started last night. how do you know?" "the hotel clerk--i 'phoned--oh, don't start cross-questioning, dad! i _know_! his plane is gone, and--he should have been here last night! he was alone, and--oh, get the boys and start them out! there isn't a minute--he may be dead somewhere--or hurt--" "now, now, we'll only bungle things by getting excited, mary v. i'll send the cook after the boys while i fix this brake and fill up the gas tank. you go get some clothes on, and tell your mother to get the emergency box ready, in case he's hurt. and if you can be calm enough, you 'phone to tucson to the sheriff, and tell him to send out a party from that end, and work this way. tell them to scatter out, but keep the general airline to the ranch. we'll start in from here. and for lord's sake, baby, don't look like that! we'll find him--and the chances are he's all right; maybe landed for some little repair or something. now hurry along, if you expect to go with me, because i won't wait a minute." mary v looked at her dad, standing there grease-smudged and calm and capable, and half the terror went out of her eyes to leave room for hope. her dad had such a way of gathering up the threads of logic and drawing them firmly into coherent action--just as a skilled driver would take the slack reins of a runaway team and pull them down to a steady pace. it seemed to her that johnny jewel was half found before ever her dad laid down the wrench and began unscrewing the cap of the gas tank. like a fluttering bluebird she flew back to the house to do his bidding. excited she was, and worried, and more than ever inclined to exclamation points and unfinished sentences; but she was no longer panic-stricken. she was the mary v who would move heaven and earth and slosh all the water out of our five oceans in her headlong determination to do what she had set out to do. in two minutes she had her mother and bedelia rushing around like scared hens, trying to collect the things she wanted to take for johnny's comfort and welfare. in three she was bullying the long-distance operator. in five she was laying down the law to the sheriff, just as though he were one of her father's cowpunchers. "get all the men you can," she commanded, when she had reached the details, "and scatter them like a round-up. you know how, of course. and keep them within sight of each other, and make them keep watch in every hollow and wash and high brush--because an airplane might not show up very plainly if it's all smashed. and 'phone to all the places down this way, and make all the men you can get out and help. it's tremendously important that you find mr. jewel immediately, because he may be badly hurt. my father will give a thousand dollars to the man who finds him. you tell that to every one, mr. sheriff, will you, please? and say that the rolling r will pay well for the time of those who aren't lucky enough to win the reward. we will pay every man twenty-five dollars that goes out. and have an automobile follow you, with a doctor in it, to take care of john--mr. jewel, when he is found. we will start all our riders out from here, and ride until we meet you. now hurry! don't stop for a lot of red tape and orders and things--get right out on the trail. and don't forget the thousand dollars reward." just when the sheriff was saying "aw right--goo'by," mary v thought of something else. "be sure and have every man carry an extra canteen for mr. jewel. injured men are always tremendously thirsty. and don't forget that every man will get twenty-five dollars, and the man that finds him--" the sheriff had hung up, which was rude of him. mary v had several other little suggestions to make--but men never do want to be told anything, especially by a woman. mary v was glad she had not been permitted to say that the sheriff would of course receive an especially attractive reward. he could go without, now, just for his smartness. the rolling r boys, hastily summoned by the cook who had galloped off without removing his flour-sack apron, came racing in and saddled fresh mounts. in a surprisingly short time they were filling canteens and gathering in a restive circle around the big touring car where the boss sat behind the wheel, and mary v, fidgeting on the seat beside him, was telling them all for gracious sake to hurry up and get started, and not fool around until dark. bill hayden got his orders, leaning down from his horse so that mary v's impatient young voice should not submerge her father's in bill's big, sun-peeled ears. "all right--better scatter out right now, soon as we git past the fence. you foller along about in the middle." he wheeled and was gone, overtaking the boys who were already starting for the gate, which little curley held open until the last man should pass. sudden stepped on the starter, the big car began to gurgle. the search was on. a hundred men were presently combing the desert land and looking for an airplane that had not flown that way--just because johnny jewel was true to his supreme purpose in life. and just because johnny's whole heart and soul were set upon repaying a conscience debt to mary v's father, mary v herself was innocently saddling his conscience with a still greater debt. for that is the way fate loves to set us playing at cross-purposes with each other. chapter five gods or something "well, here we are," johnny announced with more cheerfulness than the occasion warranted. "now what?" bland was staring slack-jawed after the squaws. "wasn't them injuns?" he wanted to know, and his voice showed some anxiety. "we want to get outa here, bo, while the gittin's good. you bring any guns?" his pale eyes turned to johnny's face. "i'll bet they've gone after the rest of the bunch, and we don't want to be here when they git back. i'll say we don't!" johnny laughed at him while he climbed down. "we made a dandy landing anyway," he said. "what ails that darned motor? she didn't do that yesterday." bland grunted and straddled out over the edge of the cockpit, keeping an eye slanted toward the brush fringe. what johnny did not know about motors would at any other time have stirred him to acrimonious eloquence. just now, however, a deeper problem filled his mind. could he locate the fault and correct it before that brush-fringe belched forth painted warriors bent on massacre? he pushed up his goggles and stepped forward to the motor. "i put in new spark plugs just the other day," johnny volunteered helpfully. "maybe a connection worked loose--or something." he got up on the side opposite bland, meaning to help, but bland would have none of his assistance. "say, f'r cat's sake, keep a watch out for injuns and leave me alone! i can locate the trouble all right, if i don't have to hang on to my skelp with both hands. you got a gun?" "yeah. back in tucson i have," johnny suppressed a grin. bland's ignorance, his childlike helplessness away from a town tickled him. "but that's all right, bland. we'll make 'em think we're gods or something. they might make you a chief, bland--if they don't take a notion to offer you up as a burnt offering to some other god that's got it in for yuh." bland, testing the spark plugs hastily, one after the other, dropped the screwdriver. "aw, f'r cat's sake, lay off that stuff," he remonstrated nervously. "fat chance we got of godding over injuns this close to a town! they're wise to white men. quit your kiddin', bo, and keep a watch out." and he added glumly, "spark plugs is o.k. maybe it's the timer. i'll have to trace it up. quit turning your back on that brush! you want us both to git killed? hand me out that small wrench." "say, i know what ailed them squaws, bland. gods is right. you know what they thought? they took us for their thunder bird lighting. i'll bet they're making medicine right now, trying to appease the bird's wrath. and say, listen here, bland. if they do come at us, all we've got to do is start up and buzz at 'em. there ain't an injun on earth could face that." bland lifted a pasty face from his work. "fat chance," he lamented. "you'd oughta brought your gun. back there at sinkhole you was damn generous with the artillery--there where you had no use for it. now you fly into injun country without so much as a sharp idea. bo, you give me a pain!" johnny spied an indian peering fearfully out from the branches of a willow. he ducked behind the motor and hissed the news to bland. bland nearly fell from his perch. "gawd!" he gasped, clinging to a strut while he stared fascinatedly in the direction johnny had indicated. "git in, bo, and we'll beat it. she may have power enough to hop us outa this death trap. we can come down somewheres else." he clawed back and climbed in feverishly. johnny emitted a convulsive snort. "death trap" sounded very funny, applied to this particular bit of harmless landscape. behind him, bland was imploring him to hurry, and johnny climbed in. "you let me pilot the thing," he ordered. "i know injuns. i still have hopes of saving our lives, bland. we'll scare 'em to death. we'll be their thunder bird for 'em. now lemme tell yuh, before we start--oh, we're safe for the present. they'll stutter some before they attack us in here--say, good golly, bland! is that your teeth chattering? hold your jaws still, can't yuh, while i tell yuh what we'll do?" "f'r cat's sake, hurry! i seen another one peekin' around the corner of the house!" "now listen, bland. the navajos have got a thunder bird mixed up in their religion, and i guess maybe these injuns will have, too. if so, we are reasonably safe. they must not know we're plain human--we've got to be gods come down to earth, and this is the thunder bird. or another kind of bird. we'll make 'em think that. they don't sabe flying machines--see? and we'll find out where they're all at, and fly low over their heads to convince them that didn't see us come down. it'll scare 'em, and work on their superstition, so when we come down again to locate that motor trouble, they'll stand in awe of us long enough to give us time to get in shape. you leave the soaring to me, bland. i'll pull us through all right. think she'll lift us off the ground?" "she's _gotta_ lift us!" bland chattered. "she's runnin' better since we landed. and say, bo, don't go any closer to them--" johnny told him to shut up; he was running things. whereupon he circled and taxied back down the field, thankful that the soil was sun-baked and hard. the motor ran smoothly again--a fact which bland was too scared to notice. he gasped when johnny turned back toward the huts, but beyond a protesting look over his shoulder he gave no sign of dissent. they started to climb, got fifty feet from the ground and the motor began to spit and pop again. then it stalled completely, and they came down and went bouncing over the uneven surface and stopped again, a rod or so nearer the willows than before. several scuttling figures left that particular hiding place like rabbits scared out of a covert, and bland took heart again. a few minutes he spent crouched down in the cockpit, watching the willows, and when nothing happened he ventured forth, armed with pliers and wrench, and went at the motor. "sounds to me like poor contact," he diagnosed the trouble. "like the breaker-points are roughened, maybe. you'll have to work the gawd stuff, bo, and work it right. because if i start tearing into the hull ignition system, we ain't going to be able to hop outa here at a minute's notice, nor even start the motor and buzz at 'em." "fly at it," said johnny, eyeing the huts speculatively. he was hungry, and certain odors floated to his nostrils. something left cooking over a fire was beginning to scorch, if his nose told the truth, and it seemed a shame to let food burn when his stomach clamored to be filled. with bland watching him nervously, he crossed the little open space and entered the hut nearest, presently emerging with two flat cakes in his hand. another hut yielded a pot of stew which he thought it wise not to analyze too closely. it was this which had begun to burn, but it was still fairly palatable. so, with a can of water from a muddy spring, they breakfasted, their hunger charitably covering much distrust and dulling for the time even bland's fear of the place. the sun, shining its arizona fiercest though the season was early fall, brought a cooked-varnish smell from the wings. there was no shade save the scant shadow which the scraggly willows and brush cast over the edge of the parched field, and of that bland refused to avail himself. he would rather roast, he said. johnny conscientiously carried the kettle back to the hut, then set to work helping bland. which help consisted mainly of turning the propeller whenever bland wanted to start the motor; a heartbreaking task in that broiling heat, especially since the motor half the time would not start at all. crimson, the perspiration streaming down his cheeks like tears, johnny swung on that propeller until bland's grating voice singing out "contact!" stirred murder within his soul and he balked with the motor and crawled under a wing. "yon can start her yourself if you want to start," he growled when bland expostulated. "i've turned that darned propeller enough to fly from here to new york. why don't you get in and locate the trouble?" "there ain't any trouble--not according to the look of things. acts like water in the gas, or something. f'r cat's sake, don't lay down on the job now, bo! we gotta beat it outa here." "i'm ready to go any time you are," johnny retorted, mopping neck and chest while he lay sprawled on his back. "but i'd rather stay here till christmas than get sun-struck trying to start, i'm all in." bland could not budge him and swore voluminously while he worked over the motor. finally he too gave up and crawled under a wing where the heat was not quite so unendurable, and tried to think of something he had not done but which he might do to correct the motor trouble. no indians having been sighted since their second landing, he could push his fear of them into the back of his mind until a dark face peered out at him again. miles away to the west men were sweating while they rode, searching for this very airplane that sat so placidly in the midst of an indian corn field. farther away the news went humming along the wires, of a young aviator lost with his airplane on the desert. the fame of that young aviator was growing apace while he lay there, casually wishing there was a telephone handy so he could call up mary v and tell her he had a plan which might make him big money without his having to sell his plane. not once did it occur to him that any one would be especially concerned over his absence. not once did he look upon this mishap as anything more serious than an unpleasant incident in the life of a flyer. he went to sleep, lying there under a wing of his plane, and presently bland himself drifted off into dreams that would have been much less agreeable had he known that a full two dozen indians had crawled into the willows and were peering timorously out at them. it was past noon when bland awoke. johnny was still sound asleep, snoring a little now and then. bland grumbled more profanity, sent a questing glance toward the willows and saw nothing to alarm him, crawled out into the searing sunlight and tried to work. but the motor was so hot he could not touch it anywhere. his pliers and wrenches were too hot to hold, and his face felt scorched where the sun fell upon it. so bland crawled back again and cursed the land that knew such heat, and himself for being in it, and presently slept again. hunger woke johnny at last, and he straight-way woke bland, politely intimating that it was about time he got busy and did something. johnny did not propose to settle down for life in that neighborhood, he pointed out. there must be something they could do, if the darned engine wasn't broken anywhere. bland, too miserable to argue, sat up and pushed greasy fingers through his lank hair. having remained alive and unharmed for so long in that neighborhood, his faith in johnny's knowledge of indians waxed stronger. he began to think less of his danger and more about the motor. the thing mystified him, who could tear a motor apart and put it together again. what he felt he ought to do was impossible for lack of the proper tools, johnny's emergency kit being quite as useless for any real emergency as such kits usually are. merely as an experiment he removed the needle valve and washed several specks of dirt off it with gasoline. without hesitation the motor started, and bland cursed himself quite sincerely for not having sooner thought of the simple expedient. he must be getting feeble-minded, he said, while he adjusted the mixture and made ready to fly. once more they taxied down the denuded corn field, turned and ascended buoyantly, boring into the hot breeze that rose as the shadows lengthened into late afternoon. they circled, climbing steadily. then pop--pop-pop-pop--pop, the motor began to stutter. the earth lifted to them as if pulled up by a string. they could see more huts and tiny figures running like disturbed ants. the field where they had spent most of the day broadened beneath them, like a brown blanket spread to receive them. they came down with a jolt that bent the axle of the landing gear, sent them bounding into the air, and all but wrecked them. they went ducking and wobbling up to the willow fringe and swung off just in time to escape plunging into a deep little creek. as they stopped they heard a great crackling of brush and glimpsed many forms fleeing wildly, but they were too engrossed in their own trouble to be greatly impressed. one wing had barely escaped damage with the tilting of the machine, and the near-catastrophe chilled them both with the memory of a certain other forced landing which had not ended so harmlessly. they climbed down soberly and inspected the landing gear. "well, that can be fixed," bland stated in the tone of one who is grateful that worse has not befallen. "i'll say it was a close shave, though, bo." "i'll try and straighten the axle, while you see what ails that cussed motor. good golly! we'll be here all night at this rate. and if we keep on hopping over this field like a lame crow, we'll be plumb outa gas. for a mechanic that can _make_ a motor, bland, you sure ain't making much of a showing!" "aw, f'r cat's sake, lay off the crabbing! gimme the tools and i'll rip your damn motor apart so quick it'll make your head swim! i'll say i've tied into a sweet mess of trouble when i tied up with you. i mighta knowed i'd git the worst of it. look at what i was handed the other time i throwed in with you! got stuck in a cave and had to live like a darned animal, and double-crossed when i'd helped you outa the hole you was in. and now you wish this job on to me and begin to lay the blame on me when this mess of junk fails to act like a motor. come off down here with a monkey wrench and a can opener and expect me to rebuild a motor that oughta been junked ten year ago!" "aw, shut up!" snapped johnny, and stalked off to find something they could eat. "monkey wrench and can opener are about as many tools as you know how to use--unless maybe it's a corkscrew." he went on, muttering because he had ever let himself be imposed upon by bland halliday. muttering too because he had started out that morning to do stunts, instead of trying to find a buyer for the machine as he had first planned. now the prospect of getting back to tucson that night looked very remote indeed. and the winning of a fortune doing exhibition work looked even more remote. "unless we take up a collection amongst the injuns cached out in the brush," he grinned ruefully to himself. "we're liable to take up a collection all right, if we have to sleep here--but it won't be money." chapter six fame waits upon johnny that day was a terrible one for mary v. the big car went lurching here and there over roads that never expected an automobile to travel them, and mary v watched and hoped and would not give up when even her dad showed signs of yielding to heat and discouragement. before noon they had met the sheriff and some of his men, and had compared notes and given what information they could. the sheriff, in a desert-scarred ford loaded mostly with water and some emergency rations, had managed to scatter his men and yet keep in fairly close touch with them, and he seemed very sure that the search had been thorough as far as they had gone. young jewel, he asserted, had not so much as dropped a handkerchief on the ground they had covered, or his men would certainly have found it. this, while it served as a temporary relief from the dread of hearing the worst, merely postponed the full knowledge of a disaster which mary v could not bear to contemplate. they drove to a rendezvous previously agreed upon with bill hayden and gleaned what news the boys had to tell. which was no news at all. their search had been as barren of results as the sheriff's, and mary v's eyes, when they turned from face to face, were hard to meet. little curley, who had been johnny jewel's especial admirer and champion when that youth was spending his days more or less tumultuously at the rolling r ranch, was seen to draw his shirt sleeve hastily across his eyes after he had confronted mary v for a minute's questioning. she watched with painful interest a car that came bouncing toward them over the rough trail they had taken. when it arrived their fears might become a terrible certainty. two men occupied the dusty roadster, and neither was johnny, and their haste implied great urgency. mary v weakened to the point of covering her face with her hands as they drew near. but they were merely reporters anxious for news. that afternoon other reporters appeared, and the next day an enterprising motion-picture concern had a camera man on the job. the mystery of the vanished airplane grew with the passing hours. the desert fairly swarmed with men, and theories were thick as lizards. on the second night beacon fires were burning on every hilltop, and water was being hauled in barrels to certain rest stations where the searchers could come and recuperate. old sudden achieved some front-page fame himself as a stalwart napoleon of the desert--which he profanely resented, by the way. on the third day mary v was ordered to stay at home. there were reasons which her father did not care to dwell upon, which made it extremely undesirable that the girl should be present when her lover was discovered. and, since the search had narrowed to a point where discovery was practically certain within a few hours, sudden was not to be cajoled or bullied. mary v was lying on the porch, wondering dully when the nightmare would end and she would wake up and find life just as it had always been, with johnny alive and full of fun and ready to argue with her over every little thing. it seemed grotesquely impossible that her own innocent command that he come to her should result in all this horror. upheld at first by a frenzied hope that they should find him, she now dreaded the finding, and refused to reckon the time since she had last heard his voice over the telephone. hurt and without water or food on the desert in all that heat--she set her teeth to stifle a groan. a little while ago when he had been so sure that he could enlist as a flyer, she had shrunk from the thought of his going to war. before that, when he had lain unconscious for so many days there in the bedroom behind her; when a trained nurse had stood guard and would not let mary v so much as look at johnny, and the doctor had spoken glibly of hope, when his eyes told her how little hope there was, she had suffered terribly. she had thought that she had touched the depths of worry over johnny--and she had not begun to know the meaning of the word. she lay a small, huddled heap of heartache, shrinking from her own thoughts, shrinking from the sight of every one, dazed with terror of what she might hear if any one spoke. into this nightmare jingled the telephone bell. mary v gave a faint scream and put her hands over her ears. "there, there, baby--i'll answer it," her mother's voice came soothingly, and mary v shrank farther down in the hammock cushions. "oh--why--land alive! just a minute--hold the line," she heard her mother say in a strange, flustered voice. then she called, "mary v--i guess you better come and--" "oh, i--_can't_, mommie! i'll go crazy if i have to hear--" "there, there, baby, it's something you want to hear!" mary v's knees shook under her as she went to the telephone. her voice was pinched and feeble when she tried to call the stereotyped hello. "oh, hello, mary v. that you? i just got in, and i thought i'd better call up. i hear they're out looking for me--" mary v's eyes turned glassy. she made a faint sound and drooped forward until her forehead rested on the table. the receiver slid soundlessly into her lap and lay there while johnny jewel rattled on hurriedly. "--and so after that happened, we were held up till dark getting the landing gear straightened out. and of course we couldn't fly very well after dark. and then next morning, after bland had cleaned out the carburetor--say, it was straight mud in there and the screen was packed solid, so of course she didn't get gas half the time, and that's what ailed her--and when we did start, or was going to start, we found out there wasn't enough gas in the tank to take us home. so i had to catch an injun and make him take a note to the nearest station for gas, and wait till he got back with some. i'd have sent word on to you, but i was in such a darned hurry i forgot--and the injuns were all scared stiff, and it was only by making them understand i wanted water for the bird, and nothing else would do." "mary v's fainted," mommie interrupted him then. "i guess it was too sudden, hearing you on the wire when she thought you was dead. you better wait and call up after awhile when her mind's more settled. she's had an awful hard time. i'm real glad you're all right, johnny, but i've got to take care of mary v now." johnny's eyes were very wide open when he came out of the telephone booth in the hotel lobby. that mary v should faint when she heard his voice sounded rather incredible, but it seemed to confirm the strange intent looks and the flustered manners of every one around that hotel. people seemed to be flocking in from the street and from other parts of the hotel, and that they were gathering to gaze upon him, johnny jewel, came with a shock. three reporters came at him so impetuously that the foremost man skidded on the polished floor and all but fell. bland was plucking at his elbow and whispering, "you let me handle the publicity, bo!" the clerk was staring at him, both palms planted firmly on the desk, and men were pushing up and craning for a look at him. johnny whirled suddenly and retreated to the telephone booth, shutting the door tightly behind him. it was the first time in his life that he had run from any one. to gain time, he called up the rolling r ranch again and managed to get bedelia, the cook, on the 'phone. bedelia was perfectly willing to tell all she knew, and she appeared to know a great deal. johnny held the receiver to his ear until his elbow cramped, and said "uh-huh" once in a while, and wondered how much bedelia was exaggerating the truth. as a matter of fact bedelia was giving him a conservative history of the past three days and, indirectly, she was explaining the crowd in the lobby behind him. telephone booths are not any too comfortable on a hot day, and johnny emerged rather limp and sober. he edged in to where bland was gesticulating in the center of a group that seemed to be drinking in his words eagerly. "i'm going on to the ranch, bland," he said shortly. "jar loose here and come help get the machine ready." "in a minute, bo. as i was saying--" "ah--i hear you had quite an adventure, mr. jewel, down among the indians with your airplane. now, just where--" "i'm in a hurry," johnny hedged. "i don't know anything about any adventure. we had a little carburetor trouble, and had to wait for gas before we could get back. that's all." he grabbed bland firmly by one arm and hustled him outside, where men were seemingly waiting far his appearance. "oh, mr. jewel! i wish you'd tell me--" "i'm in a hurry! good golly, folks seem to think talking is all there is to do in this world! come on, bland." he hurried on, his mind absorbed in grasping the full significance of bedelia's excited report of events at the rolling r and this curious crowd that gaped at him. the thought of mary v lying unconscious, stricken by the sound of his voice over the telephone, nagged at him persistently and unpleasantly. he had not told bedelia that he was coming, and now he feared that his unheralded appearance might be another shock to mary v; but he would not take the time to go back and warn her, for all that. instead, he walked a little faster to where his plane was waiting. "i think you're making a bad play, bo--duckin' out when all them newspaper guys are hot after dope on us," bland expostulated while he drilled along beside his boss. "i give 'em some scarehead stuff, but they'd lap up a lot more. we can get a lot of valuable publicity right now if we play 'em right. i give 'em that gawd stuff for a start-off, and i made--" "shut up and save your breath," snapped johnny. "i'm not chasing up any newspaper notoriety now." "well, it'd be better business if yah did, bo--i'll say it would. why, it's free advertising we couldn't have pulled off on a bet, if we'd tried to frame it. absolutely not. well, mebby your duckin' out right now is a good play, too. it'll keep 'em chasin' yuh for more--and i'll say that's about the only way to handle them smart guys. oncet you chase them, the stuff's off. you can bust your spine in four different places and wreck your machine, and mebby get a four- or five-line notice down in a corner next the dentist ads. it's worse, too, since the war begun. there ain't no more chance, hardly, of getting front-page publicity. say, a couple of 'em took your picture. d' yuh know that?" "no, and i don't care," johnny retorted. just now nothing mattered save getting to the rolling r as soon as possible and stopping that idiotic search for him. he hustled bland around to such good purpose that by the time the reporters had trailed him to the hangar he was already in his seat and was barking "contact!" at bland, who was unhappily turning the propeller at stated intervals and wondering when he would ever again have a square meal, and hoping that no misfortune would delay their arrival at the rolling r, where he remembered hungrily certain past achievements of the cook. "going back to your indian tribe?" one smiling, sandy-haired fellow called out to johnny. "no. i'm going to the rolling r!" johnny retorted unguardedly. "ready, bland? contact!" the motor started, and bland pulled down his cap. "his best girl lives at the rolling r. he's goin' to see her," he informed the sandy-haired man as he passed him. "they're engaged." he climbed up and took his place, tickled at the chance to hand out more "dope." the sandy-haired one seemed tickled, too, until he saw that his ears had not been the only ones to drink in bland's words. they moved hastily aside as the big plane swung round and went down the field like a running plover. they watched it swing and come back, taking the air easily, thrumming its high, triumphant note. they tilted heads backward and followed it as johnny circled, getting his altitude. they squinted into the sun to see the plane head straight away toward the rolling r, its little wheels looking very much like the tucked-up feet of some gigantic bird, until it had dwindled to the rigid, dragon-fly outline. "he's got nerve, that kid!" the sandy-haired one declared to his fellows. "didn't care a whoop for publicity--did you fellows get that? i'd been wondering if it wasn't some frame-up, but it's on the level. that boy couldn't frame anything." "not with those eyes," a sallow companion agreed. "i seem to know that other bird. he's a crook, if i know faces." "he's just the mechanic. he don't count. but that kid--say, i like that kid!" and he added enthusiastically, "great story, that stuff the mechanic doped out for us. we'd never have pulled it out of the kid." "i wish i could remember that bird. i ought to know him. leaves a bad taste in my memory, somehow. you're right--it's some story." chapter seven merely two points of view mary v wadded a soft cushion under the nape of her neck, looked again at johnny sprawled in her dad's pet chair and smoking a cigarette after a very ample meal that had been served him half-way between dinner and supper, and stifled a sigh. johnny was alive and well and full of enthusiasm as ever. he had just finished telling her all the wonderful things he could do and would do with his airplane, and the earnings he had hopefully mentioned ran into thousands of dollars, and left a nice marrying balance after her father's debt was paid. yet mary v felt a heaviness in her heart, and though she listened to all the wonderful things johnny meant to do, she could not feel that they were really possible. something else troubled mary v, but just now, with johnny there before her almost like one risen from the grave, she dreaded to recognize the thing that shadowed the back of her mind. johnny turned his head and looked at her, and she forced a smile that held so little joy that even johnny was perturbed. "what's the matter? don't you believe i can do it?" he challenged her instantly. "there's no reason why i can't. it's being done all the time. other flyers make as much money as your dad makes here on the ranch. and--you know yourself, mary v, i couldn't settle down and be just a rider again. fighting bronks is too tame, now--too slow. i'll have to make a flyer of you, mary v, and then you'll know--" mary v suddenly buried her face in a cushion. johnny heard a smothered sob and got up, looking very much astonished and perturbed. with a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one saw him, ho put an arm awkwardly around her shaking shoulders. "if you don't want to fly, you needn't," he reassured her. "i didn't mean you had to. i only meant--" "it--it isn't that at all," mary v managed to enunciate more or less clearly. "but we've been simply crazy, worrying about you and thinking all kinds of horrible things, and--" "well, but i'm all right, you see, so you don't need to worry any more. i was all right all the time, if you had only known it. you don't want to let that give you a prejudice against flying. it's just as safe as riding bronks." "it--it isn't the safeness." mary v choked back a sob and wiped her eyes. "but you don't seem to take it seriously at all!" "now, you know i do! it's the most serious thing in my whole life---except you, of course. and you know--" "i don't mean that!" mary y gave a small stamp with her slipper toe on the porch floor, thereby proving how swiftly her resilient young self was coming back to a normal condition after the strain of the past forty-eight hours. "you ought to know what i mean." johnny sat down again and looked at her with his eyebrows pulled together. mary v had always been more or less puzzling in her swift changes of mood, wherefore this sudden change in her did not greatly surprise him. "well, what do you mean, then?" he asked patiently. "seems to me i've been taking everything too seriously to suit you, till just this minute. i've been pretty serious, let me tell you, about making good, and now i can see my way clear for the first time since all those horses were run off right under my nose, while i was busy with my airplane, getting it in shape to fly. you've been after me all the time because i couldn't let things slide. don't you think, mary v, you're kinda changeable?" mary v gave him a quick, intent look and bit her lower lip. "i only wish i could change you a little bit," she retorted. "i don't want to be disagreeable, johnny, after you were given up for lost and everything, and then turned out to be all right. but that's just the trouble! you--" "the trouble is that i wasn't killed? good golly!" "no, i don't mean that at all. but we thought you were, and everybody in the country was simply frantic, and you weren't even--" "huh!" johnny got up, plainly hesitating between dignified retreat and another profitless argument with mary v. another, because his acquaintance with her had been one long series of arguments, it seemed to him; and profitless, because mary v simply would not be logical, or ever stick to one contention, but instead would change her attack in the most bewildering manner. "i'm very sorry," he said stiffly, "that the whole country was frantic without due cause. but i never asked them to take it upon themselves to get all fussed up because i happened to be late for my meals. i was foolish enough to take it for granted that a man has a right to go about his business without asking permission of the general public. i didn't know the public had my welfare on its mind like that. i'll have to call a meeting after this, i reckon, and put it to vote whether i can please go up in my little airplane. or maybe the public will pass the hat around and buy a string to tie on to me, so i can't get too far away. then they can take turns holding the string and pull me down when they think i've been up long enough! darned boobs--what did they want to get up searching parties for? couldn't they find anything else to do, for gosh sake?" "why, johnny jewel!" righteous indignation brought mary v to her feet, trembling a little but with the undaunted spirit of her fighting forebears shining in her eyes. "johnny jewel, you silly, ungrateful boy! what if you had been hurt somewhere? you'd have been glad enough then for the public to take some interest in you, i guess!" "well, but i wasn't hurt," johnny reiterated with his mouth set stubbornly. "they had to go and worry the life outa you, mary v--that's what i'm kicking about. they--" mary v gazed at him strangely. "but you see, johnny, it was i who worried the life out of them! when you didn't come, i got dad started, and then i 'phoned the sheriff and offered a reward and big pay and everything, to get men out. all the sheriff's men will get twenty-five dollars a day, johnny, for hunting you. and there was a reward and everything. so don't blame the public for taking an interest in whether you were killed or not. blame me, johnny--and dad, and the boys that have been riding day and night to find you." johnny reddened. "well, i appreciate it, of course, mary v--but i don't see why you should think--" "because, johnny, you didn't come the next morning after i told you to come. and the hotel clerk found your plane was gone, so--" "but i never said i'd come. i told you i wouldn't come to the ranch till i had the money to square up with your dad. i meant it--just that. you must have known i wasn't talking just to be using the telephone." "but you knew i expected you just the same. and how could i know--how could i _dream_, johnny, that instead of coming or letting me know, or anything, you would take up with that perfectly horrible bland halliday again, and go off in the opposite direction, and be gone three whole days without a word? i'm sure i wouldn't have believed it possible you'd do a thing like that, johnny. i--i can't believe it now. it--it seems almost worse than if you had started for the ranch and--" "got killed on the way, i suppose! i like that. i must say, i like that, mary vi you'd rather have me with my neck broken than not doing exactly as you say. is that it?" mary v set her teeth together until she had herself under control, which, had you known the girl, would have meant a great deal. for mary v was not much given to guarding her tongue. "johnny, tell me this: after knowing bland halliday as you do, and after knowing what i think of him, and what he tried to do down there at sinkhole when he was going to steal your airplane and fly off with it, _why_ have you taken up with him again, without one word to me about it? and why didn't you take the time and the trouble to call me up and say what you were going to do, when you knew that i'd be looking for you? i hate to say it, johnny, but it does look as though you didn't care one bit about me or what i'd think, or anything. you've just gone crazy on the subject of flying, and that bland halliday is just working you, johnny, for an easy mark. you think it's pride that's holding you back from taking dad's offer and staying here and settling down. but it isn't that at all, johnny. it's just plain conceit and swell-headedness, and i hate to tell you this, but it's the truth. "that airplane has simply gone to your head and you can't look at anything sensibly any more. if you could, you'd have _kicked_ that miserable bland halliday when he came sneaking around--wanting money and a square meal, and you needn't deny it, johnny. but no, instead of taking the chance that's given you to make good, you turn up your nose at it because it isn't spectacular enough to keep you in the limelight as the original boy wonder! and you--you take that crook, that tramp, that--that _bum_ as a partner, and imagine you're going to do wonderful things and get rich and everything! and you won't do anything except give that tramp a chance to steal you blind!" "i didn't say i'd taken bland as a partner. but i may do it, at that--if my judgment approves of the deal." "your judgment! johnny jewel, you haven't got any more judgment than a cat!" this was putting it rather strongly, since mary v had fully intended to guard her tongue, being careful not to antagonize him. that heady young man now stood glaring at her in a thoroughly antagonistic manner. speech trembled on his lips that would not formulate the scathing rebuke surging within his mind. he had been called conceited, swell-headed, inconsiderate of others, and now this final insult was heaped upon the full measure of his wrongs, just when he had a clear vision of future achievements that should have dazzled any young woman whose life was to be linked with his. but mary v, he reminded himself, could not look beyond her own little desires and whims. because she had tried to lay down the law for him and he had failed to obey, she refused to see that he was playing for big stakes and that he could not be expected to throw everything up just because she had been worried over him for a couple of days. the mere fact that he had not been lost on the desert, as every one supposed he was, could not affect his plans for the future, though mary v seemed to think that it should. "well, since that is the way you feel toward me, i may as well drift," he made belated retort in a tone of suppressed wrath. "i guess it would have been better if i'd stayed away, i'll remember--" "for gracious _sake_, what does make you so horrid?" mary v now had one arm crooked around his neck, which he stiffened stubbornly. with her other hand she was tweaking his ears rather painfully. "you're going to stay right here and behave yourself till dad comes, and you're going to have a talk with him about your affairs before you go doing anything silly. you know perfectly well that my father's advice is worth something. everybody in the country thinks he has a wonderful brain when it comes to business or anything like that. he can tell you what you ought to do, johnny, if you'll only be sensible and listen to him." "what do i want to listen to him for?" johnny's eyes looked down at her with no softening of his anger. "good golly! do you think your dad's got the only brain in the world? how do men run their affairs, and get rich, that never heard of him, do you suppose? i don't want to mock your dad--he's all right in his own field, and a smart man and all that. but he don't know the flying game, and his advice wouldn't be worth the breath he'd use giving it. perhaps i am conceited and swell-headed and a few other things, but i am perfectly willing to take a chance on my own judgment for awhile yet, anyway. when i do need advice, i'll know where to go." "to bland halliday, i suppose!" mary v took away her arm and stood back from him. "you'd take a tramp's advice before you would my father's, would you?" she pressed her lips together, seeming to hold back with difficulty a storm of reproaches. "i would, where flying is concerned." johnny's lips spelled anger to match her own. "he knows the game, and your father doesn't. and just because bland's playing hard luck is no reason why you need call him names. give the devil his due, anyway." "i just perfectly ache to do it!" cried mary v. "he wouldn't be talking you into all kinds of crazy things--" "crazy because they don't happen to appeal to you," johnny flung back. "oh, well, what's the use of talking? you don't seem to get the right angle on things, is all." he busied himself with a cigarette, his face, that had been so boyishly eager while he told her his plan, gone gloomy with the self-pity of one who feels himself misunderstood. mary v had gone back to her hammock and was lying with one arm thrown up across the cushion, her face concealed behind it. she, too, felt miserably misunderstood. flighty she was, spoiled and impulsive, but beneath it all she had her father's practical strain of hard sense. mary v had grown older in the past three days. she had faced some bitter possibilities and had done a good deal of sober thinking. she felt now that johnny was carried away by the fascination of flying, and that bland's companionship was the worst thing in the world for him. she was hurt at johnny's lack of consideration for her, at his complete absorption in himself and his own plans. she wanted him to "settle down," and be content with loving her and with being loved--to be satisfied with prosperity that carried no element of danger. moreover, that he had not troubled to send her any message but had deliberately gone flying off in the opposite direction with bland, regardless of what she might think or suffer, filled her with something more bitter than mere girlish resentment. johnny was like one under a spell, hypnotized by his own air castles and believing them very real. mary v had no faith in his dreams, and not even to please johnny would she pretend that she had. she had nothing but impatience for his plans, nothing but disgust for his partner, nothing but disappointment from his visit. she moved her arm so that she could look at him, and wondered why it should give her no pleasure to see him standing there unharmed, sturdy, alive to his finger tips--him whom she had but a little while ago believed dead. johnny, i must confess, was cot a cheerful object. he was scowling, with his face turned so that mary v saw only his sullen profile; with his mouth pinched in at the corners and his chin set in the lines of stubbornness. as if he felt her eyes upon him, johnny turned and sent her a look not calculated to be conciliating. if mary v wanted to sulk, he'd give her a chance. he certainly could not throw up all his plans just on her whim. "i guess i'll go down and help bland," he said in the repressed tone of anger forcing itself to be civil. "we ought to be getting back to-night." he opened the screen door, gave her another look, and went off toward the corral, sulks written all over him. mary v waited until she was sure he did not mean to turn back, then went off to her room, shut the door with a force that vibrated the whole house, and turned the key in the lock. chapter eight sudden must do something "i been thinking, bo, what we better do." bland climbed down from the motor and approached johnny eagerly, casting suspicious glances here and there lest eavesdroppers be near. that air of secrecy was a habit with bland, yet it never quite failed to impress johnny and lend weight to bland's utterances. now, having been put on the defensive by mary v, he was more than ever inclined to listen. "shoot," he said glumly, and sent a resentful glance back at the house. at least, bland showed some interest in his welfare, he thought, and regretted that it had not occurred to him to tell mary v that and see how she would take it. "well, bo, all this limelight stuff is playing right into your mitt. i didn't spill who i was to them news hounds, and i don't have to. i let you take all the foreground. i was the mechanic--see? so it's you that will have to put this over; and put it over strong, i say. "now first off you want some catchy name for the plane, and you've got it ready-made. all yuh need is paint to put it on with. across the top of the wings you want to paint the thunder bird--just like that. get the idea? and we'll go back to tucson and clean up a piece of money. while you work into the exhibition stuff we can take up passengers and make good money. ten minutes of joyride, at ten dollars per joy--you mind the mob that follered us to the hotel just for a look-in? say one in ten takes a ride, look at the clean-up! you take 'em yourself, bo--do the flunkey work and look wise. i never mentioned the joyridin' at first, because i look on that as side money, and exhibition flyers don't do nothing like that. they think it cheapens 'em, and it does. but right now it means quick money, see. with all this publicity, and the injun name--say, it's a cinch, bo! they'll fall over theirselves to git a ride. "my idea is to get the name painted on right now, before we go back. then we'll circle over town and do a few flops and show our sign. so right away the name'll stick in their minds and make good advertising. then when we land, the mob'll be there--i'll say they will! and they'll take a ride, too. i wonder is there any lampblack on the place?" johnny smoked a cigarette and studied the proposition. it looked feasible. moreover, it promised ready money, and ready money was johnny's greatest, most immediate need. not a little of his captiousness with mary v was caused by his secret worry over his empty pockets. he grinned ruefully when the thought struck him that, if the bald truth were known, he himself did not have much more than the price of one joyride in his own machine! he had been seriously considering asking curley for a loan when that staunch little friend returned from the search, but it galled his pride to borrow money from any one. bland's idea began to look not only feasible but brilliant. it would establish at once his independence and furnish concrete proof to mary v that his determination to fly was based on sound business principles. supposing he only took up four or five passengers a day, he would make more money than he could earn in two weeks at any other occupation. bland seemed to read this thought. "you can count on an average of ten a day, bo--that's a hundred dollars. sometimes, like on sundays, it would run to two and three hundred bones. i guess that will let you throw your feet under the table regular--what?" "what about you?" johnny asked, looking up at him studiedly. "me? i'll tell yuh, bo. you give me the second ten bucks you take in. you keep the rest until the tenth passenger, and give me that, and then the fifteenth. and you pay all expenses. that's fair enough, ain't it? i'll make good money when you make better. any exhibition work, you give me half, because it'll really be me that's pulling off the stunts. the public needn't be wise to that. you as skyrider johnny, see. i'm just anybody, for the present." "why all this modesty to-day? when you first wanted to go in with me, i couldn't call you no violet, bland. you said then that your name was worth a lot." bland's loose lips parted in a crafty grin. "it is worth a lot, bo--to keep it under cover right now. one of them newspaper guys reminded me of somebody. i don't think he remembered me--but it wouldn't do us no good now to joggle his memory, bo. i ain't saying he's got anything on me--only--" "only he has," johnny rounded out the sentence dryly. "all right. i'm willing to play that way till i find out more about you. we'll try your scheme out. it can't do any hurt." he went off to the shed where all sorts of things were stored, looking for lamp black. and bland, seeing ready money just ahead, overlooked johnny's blunt distrust of him, and pulled the corners of his mouth out of their habitual whining droop and whistled to himself while he tinkered with the motor. johnny was up on a stepladder laboriously painting the r on thunder when old sudden drove into the yard with half the rolling r boys packed into the big car. they had heard the strident humming of the plane when johnny made his homing flight, and craning necks backward, had seen him winging away to the rolling r. they had guessed very close to the truth, and for them the search ended right there. so, after signalling the other searchers, many of the boys had ridden back in the car, leaving patient, obliging little curley to bring home their horses. bud and aleck, who had ridden uncomplainingly from dawn to dark, looking for johnny's remains, straightway pulled him, paint-pot and all, from the stepladder and began to maul him affectionately and call him various names to hide their joy and relief. which johnny accepted philosophically and with less gratitude than he should have shown. "what yo' all doin', up there?" bud wanted to know when the first excitement had subsided. "writin' poetry for friend venus to read? i'll bet that there's where skyrider has been all this while! i'll bet he's been visitin' with venus and brandin' stars with the rollin' r whilst we been ridin' the tails off our hawses huntin' his mangled ree-mains. ain't that right, eyebrow?" bland grinned sourly. "us, we been gawdin' amongst the injuns," he stated loftily. "we sure had some time. i'll say we did! say, we're goin' to be ready to do business now pretty quick. don't you birds want to fly? just a little ways--to see how it feels?" halfway up the stepladder johnny stopped. "what's the matter with you, bland?" he asked sharply. "you crazy?" "we're out to do business. that's right, boys. now's your time to fly. all it takes is a little nerve--and ten dollars." "shut up!" growled johnny. "don't be a darned boob." the boys looked at one another uncertainly. it might be some obscure joke of bland's, and they were wary. "fly where?" bud guardedly sought information. "anywheres. just a circle or two, to show yuh how this ranch looks to a chicken hawk, and down again," bland persisted, in spite of johnny. "yeah--it's that _down again_ i wouldn't much hanker for," aleck put in. "i seen how you and skyrider come down, once." "that there was him learnin' not to pick nice, deep, soft sand for a landin'," bland explained equably, glancing up to where johnny was painting a somewhat wobbly b. "he ain't done it lately, bo." "lemme up there, skyrider, and see what it is yo'all are paintin' on," bud pleaded. "if it's po'try, maybe i can sing it." johnny relaxed into a grin, but he did not answer the jibe. he was disgusted with bland for having such bad taste as to drum up trade here on the ranch, among the boys who had ridden hard and long, believing him in dire need. he hoped the boys would not guess that bland was in earnest; a poor, cheap joke is sometimes better than tactless sincerity. he was even ashamed now of the name he was painting on the wings. that, too, seemed cheap and pointless. he felt nauseated with bland halliday and his petty grafting. a little more and he would have told bland so and sent him about his business. at that moment of revulsion against bland he was almost in the mood to give up the whole scheme and do as mary v wished him to do: settle down there at the ranch and work out his debt where he had made it. looking down into the grimy, friendly faces of those who had braved desert wind and sun for him, the sallow, shifty-eyed face of bland halliday seemed to epitomize the sordid avariciousness of the man and made him wonder if any measure of success would atone for the forced intimacy with the fellow. mary v, had she known his mood then, might have won her way with him and altered immeasurably the future. but mary v knew only that he was staying down there with that unbearable bland halliday, fussing around his horrid old airplane instead of coming to the house and telling her he was sorry. besides, there was her dad, who had gone to all that trouble and expense for him, not so much as getting a word of thanks or appreciation from johnny. instead of coming right away to see her dad, he was down there fooling with the boys. what, for gracious sake, ailed johnny lately? he ought to have a good talking to, she decided. perhaps her dad could talk some sense into him--she was sure that she couldn't. so she stopped her dad when he was on the point of going down where johnny was, and she told him what perfectly crazy ideas johnny had, and how he had refused to listen to a word she said, but instead had taken up with bland halliday again. and wouldn't dad please talk to johnny? "he keeps harping on owing you for those horses he lost," she said impatiently. "i've told him and told him that you don't care and would never hold it against him, but he won't listen. he keeps on talking about paying it back, and making good before we can be married and all that. and he simply will not consent to come and make good on the ranch, and pay you out of his salary, if he feels he must pay. "he says ranching is too tame for him--dad, think of that! too tame, when he knows very well it would mean-- but he doesn't seem to care whether we're together or not. he says he can make a fortune flying, and he said he might go in partnership with bland halliday. he says we can't think of being married until he has paid you--and he imagines he can earn the money with that airplane! and i know perfectly well he can't, because if he does make a cent bland halliday will cheat him out of it. and dad--" mary v's voice trembled "--he went off that morning with that fellow, exactly in the opposite direction from the ranch! he never intended to come, and he didn't care enough to tell me, even. he just went as if nothing in the world mattered! and we were all hunting--" "well, if you look at it that way it's easy enough to handle him," sudden observed. "i've been thinking myself the young imp showed mighty little thought for you. of course you don't want to marry a fellow like that." "why, i do too! what, for gracious sake, ever put that idea into your head? but i don't want him to act like a perfectly crazy lunatic. i wish you'd speak to him. he won't listen to me--we just quarrel when i try to reason with him." sudden smoothed down his face with his hand. "i expect you do, all right. the dove of peace is going to find mighty poor roosting on your roof, babe, if i'm any judge." "i suppose you mean i'm quarrelsome, but you simply don't understand. it was johnny who quarrelled with me because i wanted him to have some sense. i wish you'd speak to him, dad." "oh, i'll speak to him," her dad promised grimly. still, he did not immediately proceed to speak. instead, he drove the car down to the garage and put it away, passing rather close to the airplane without giving much attention to johnny. his casual wave of a hand could have meant almost anything, and johnny felt a small tremor of apprehension. when he was merely one of the men on the payroll he had stood just a bit in awe of old sudden, and he could not all at once throw off the feeling, even though sudden had willingly enough acknowledged him as a prospective son-in-law. he allowed a blob of black paint to place a period where no period should be while he stared after sudden's bulky form in the dust-covered car. sudden busied himself in the garage, turning up grease cups and going over certain squeaky spots with the oil can while he studied the problem before him. he had once before likened johnny jewel to a thoroughbred colt that must be given its head lest its temper be spoiled for all time. just now the human colt seemed inclined to bolt where the bolting threatened disaster to mary v. the question of using the curb or giving a free rein was a nice one; and the old car was given an astonishing amount of oil before sudden wiped his hands on a bit of waste with the air of a man who had just made an important decision. "if you've got time," he said to johnny, when he approached the group at the plane, "i'd like to have a little talk with you. no hurry, though. glad to see you got back all right. you had the whole country guessing for a while." johnny scowled, for the subject was becoming extremely unpleasant. "i'm sorry--but i don't see what i can do about it, unless i go off and smash things up to carry out the program as expected," he retorted, and it did not occur to him that the words sounded particularly ungracious. the thing was on his nerves so much that it seemed to him even sudden was taunting him with the trouble he had caused. "no, the show's over now, and the audience has gone home. no use playing to an empty house," sudden drawled. johnny looked at him quickly, suspiciously. he had an overwhelming wish to know just exactly what sudden meant. he climbed down and took the ladder back to the shed near by. "i'm ready for the talk, mr. selmer," he said when he came back. whatever sudden had in his mind, johnny wanted it in plain speech. a white line was showing around his mouth--a line brought there by the feeling that his affairs had reached a crisis. one way or the other his future would be decided in the next few minutes. he followed sudden to the house and into the office room fronting the corrals and yards. sudden sat down before his desk and johnny took the chair opposite him, his spirits still weighted by the impending crisis. he tried to read in sudden's face what attitude he might expect, but sudden was wearing what his friends called his poker expression, which was no expression at all. his very impassiveness warned and steadied johnny. chapter nine giving the colt his head "you and mary v are engaged to be married," sudden began abruptly. "have you any particular time set for it, or any plans made?" johnny faced him steadily and explained just what his plans were. that mary v had undoubtedly forestalled him in the telling made no difference to johnny. since sudden had asked him, he should have it straight from headquarters. we all know what johnny told him; we have heard him state his views on the subject. "h-mm. and how long do you expect it will take to pay me for the horses?" johnny hesitated before he plunged--but when he did he went deep enough in all conscience. "with any kind of luck i expect to be square with you in a year at the latest." "a year. h-mm! will you sign a note for that three thousand, with interest at seven per cent., and give your flying machine as security?" "i will, provided i can pay it any time within the year," johnny answered, trying to read the poker face and failing as many a man had failed. sudden nodded, pulled a book of note blanks from a drawer and calmly drew up a note for three thousand dollars, payable "on or before" one year from date, with interest at seven per cent. per annum, with a bill of sale of johnny's airplane attached and taking effect automatically upon default of payment of the note. johnny read the document slowly, pursing his lips. it was what he had proclaimed to mary v that he wished to do, but seeing it there in black and white made the debt look bigger, the year shorter, the penalty of failure more severe. it seemed uncompromisingly legal, binding as the death seal placed upon all life. he looked at mary v's father, and it seemed that he, too, was stern and uncompromising as the agreement he had drawn. johnny's shoulders went back automatically. he reached across the desk for a pen. "there will have to be witnesses," said sudden, and opened a door and called for his wife and bedelia. until they came johnny sat staring at the bill of sale as though he meant to commit it to memory. "one military type tractor biplane . . . ownership vested in me . . . without process of law . . ." he felt a weight in his chest, as though already the document had gone into effect. when he had signed his name and watched bedelia's moist hand, reddened from dishwater, laboriously constructing her signature while she breathed hard over the task, the plane seemed irrevocably lost. mommie, leaning close to his shoulder so that a wisp of her hair tickled his cheek while she wrote, gave him a little cheer by her nearness and her unspoken friendliness. she signed "mary amanda selmer" very precisely, with old-fashioned curls at the end of each word. then, quite unexpectedly, she slipped an arm around johnny's neck and kissed him on his tanned cheek where a four-day's growth of beard was no more than a brown fuzz scarcely discernible to the naked eye. she gave his shoulder two little affectionate pats that said plainly, "there, there, don't you worry one bit," and went away without a word. johnny gulped and winked hard, and wished that mary v was more like her mother, and hoped that sudden was not looking at him. sudden was folding the paper very carefully and slipping it into an envelope, on the face of which he wrote "john ivan jewel, $ . secured note, due ----" whenever the date said. when he finally looked up at john ivan jewel, that young man was rolling a cigarette with a fine assumption of indifference, as though giving a three-thousand-dollar note payable in one year and secured with all he owned in the world save his clothes was a mere bagatelle; an unimportant detail of the day's business. sudden smoothed his face down with the palm of his hand, as he sometimes did when mary v demanded that she be taken seriously, and spoke calmly, with neither pity, blame, nor approval in his voice. "i have held you accountable for the horses stolen through your neglect while you were in charge of sinkhole range and therefore responsible for their safety within a reasonable limit. the expenses of your sickness after your fall with your flying machine, i will take care of myself. you were at that time trying to find mary v, which naturally i appreciated. more than that, i make it a rule to pay the expenses of any man hurt in my employ. "the expense i have been under in hiring men, letting my own work go to the devil, and so forth, while we thought you were lost, i shall not expect you to pay. as i understand the matter, you had no intention of coming to the ranch and had not said that you were coming. the expense of looking for you really ought to come out of mary v--and serve her right for having so much faith in you. i am lucky in one sense--i shan't have to pay the thousand-dollar reward the kid so generously offered in my name for your recovery. the bonus she offered that sheriff's posse will mighty near eat up that new automobile she's been wanting, though. maybe next time--" "i'll buy mary v an automobile if she wants one--when i get the note paid," johnny stated boyishly, to show his disapproval of sudden's hardness. sudden once more passed his palm thoughtfully over the lower half of his face. "mary v ought to appreciate that," he said dryly, and johnny flushed. "anyway, it ain't right to make her suffer for being worried about me. that was my fault, in a way. if you'll tell me how much you're out--?" "that's all right. it's on me, for falling so easy for one of mary v's spasms. i was led to believe you had actually started for the ranch--in which case i was justified in supposing you had come to grief somewhere en route. we'll let it go." he cleared his throat, glanced at johnny from under his eyebrows, took a cigar out of a drawer, and bit off the end. "now under the circumstances, i think i have a right to know how you expect to pay that note. i realize that if i leave the flying machine in your hands it's going to depreciate in value, and the chances are it'll go smash and i'll be out my security. don't you think you had better run it under a shed somewhere and go to work? of course it's nothing to me, so long as i get my money, just how you earn it. working for me you couldn't earn any three thousand dollars in a year--you ain't worth it to anybody. you're too much a kid. you ain't grown up yet, and i couldn't depend on you like i can on bill. but i could strain a point, and pay you a thousand dollars a year, and split the debt into three or four yearly payments. in four years," he pointed out relentlessly, "you might come clear--with hard work and good luck." "on the other hand, when mary v marries with our consent she gets a third interest in the rolling r. her husband will naturally fall into a pretty good layout. so you might fix it with the kid to jump down the four years some. that's between you and--" "that's an insult! i'll pay you, and it won't be any rolling r money that does it, either. when i marry mary v or any other girl it's my money that will support her. i may be a kid, all right--but i ain't that kind of a hound. i don't know the law on such things, but there ain't anything in that bill of sale that says i've got to stand my plane in your cow shed till i've paid the note, and i won't do it. the plane ain't yours till i don't pay. seems to me you better wait till the note's due before you begin to worry, mr. selmer. and i'll set your mind at rest on one point, anyway. the plane may go to smash, as you say, but if i don't smash with it, i'll pay you that three thousand. and you don't have to strain any point, either, to give me a job. when i want to work for you i'll sure tell you so. in the meantime, i don't know as it's very businesslike for you to go prying into my plans. you've accepted my note, and you've got your security, and what the hell more do you want?" sudden was very much occupied with his cigar just then, and he did not answer the challenge. moreover, he was having some difficulty with his poker face, which showed odd twitchings around his mouth. but johnny did not wait for a reply. he was started now, and he went on hotly, relieving his mind of a good many other little grievances. "you don't go around asking other men how they expect to meet their obligations a year from now, do you? then why should you think you've got a right to butt in on my private business, i'd like to know? put my plane in your cow shed and go to work for you! huh! i've caused you trouble and expense enough, i should think, without saddling myself on you like that. i appreciate all you have done--but i absolutely will not get under your wing and let you pet and humor me along like you do mary v. why, good golly! you've spoiled and humored her now until i can't do a thing with her! why, she harps on my staying here at the ranch--under dad's wing, of course!--instead of getting out and making something of myself. you didn't fool around and let somebody else shoulder your responsibilities, did you? you didn't let somebody plan for you and dictate to you and do all your thinking--no, you bet your life you didn't! and nobody's going to do it for me, either. if i haven't got brains enough and guts enough to make good for myself, i'll blow the top of my head off and be done with it." he rose and pushed his chair back with a kick that sent it skating against the wall. his stormy blue eyes snapped at sudden as though he would force some display of emotion into that smooth, impassive, well-fed countenance, the very sight of which lashed his indignation into a kind of fury. "if you really think i don't amount to any more than to hang around here for you to support, why the devil don't you kick me out and tell mary v not to marry me? you must think you're going to have a fine boob in the family! and it's to show you--it's--why the hell don't you--what i can't stand for," he blurted desperately, "is your insinuating right to my face that i'd want to marry mary v to get a third interest in the rolling r. i want to tell you right now, mr. selmer, you couldn't give me any third interest nor any one millionth interest. if i thought mary v had put you up to that i'd absolutely--but she didn't. she knows where i stand. i've told her straight out. mary v's got more sense--she knows me better than you do. she knows--" "there's another thing i neglected to mention," sudden drawled, blowing smoke with maddening placidity under the tirade. "it's none of my business how you hook up with that tramp flyer out there--but you understand, of course, that flying machine is tied up in a hard knot by this note. i couldn't accept any division of interest in it, you know. you have given it as security, affirming it to be your own property. so whatever kind of deal you make with him or any one else, the flying machine must be kept clear. selling it or borrowing money on it--anything of that kind would be a penal offence. you probably understand this--but if so, telling you can do no harm; and if you didn't know it, it may prevent you from making a mistake." "i guess you needn't lay awake nights over my going to the pen," johnny replied loftily. "i believe our business is finished for the present--so good day to you, mr. selmer." "good day, mr. jewel. i wish you good luck," sudden made formal reply, and watched johnny's stiff neck and arrogant shoulders with much secret amusement. "oh--mary v's out on the front porch, i believe!" johnny turned and glared at him, and stalked off. he had meant to find mary v and tell her what had happened, and say good-by. but old sudden had spoiled all that. a donkey engine would have stalled trying to pull johnny around to the front porch, after that bald hint. as it happened, mary v was not taking any chances. she was not on the front porch, but down at the airplane, snubbing bland most unmercifully and waiting for johnny. when he appeared she was up in the front seat working the controls and pretending that she was speeding through the air while thousands gaped at her from below. "i'm doing a make-believe nose dive, skyrider," she chirped down at him, looking over the edge through johnny's goggles, and hoping that he would accept her play as a tacit reconciliation, so that they could start all over again without any fussing. no doubt dad had fixed things up with johnny and everything would be perfectly all right. "look out below." "you better do a nose dive outa there," johnny told her with terrific bluntness. "i'm in a hurry. i want to make tucson yet this afternoon." mary v's mouth fell open in sheer amazement. "johnny jewel! do you mean to tell me you're going to leave? and i was just waiting a chance to ask you if you won't give me a ride! i'm just dying to fly, johnny." johnny looked at her. he turned and looked back at the house. he looked at the boys and at bland. he took a deep breath, like a man making ready to dive from some sheer height into very deep water. "all right, stay where you are--but leave those controls alone. want to show the boys a new stunt, bland? we'll take miss selmer up, and you ride here on the wing. you can lay down close to the fuselage and hang on to a brace. they've been doubting your nerve, i hear." he climbed in, pulling off his cap for mary v to wear. "reach down there on the right-hand side, mary v, and get me those extra goggles. all right--come on, bland, let's show 'em something." bland hesitated, plainly reluctant to try the stunt johnny had suggested. but johnny was urgent. "aw, come on! what's the matter with you? they do it all the time, over in france! turn her over. all ready? retard--contact!" bland cranked the motor, but it was plain that his mind was working furiously with some hard problem. should he refuse to ride on a wing and let johnny fly off without him? all bland's hatred of the wilderness, his distrust of men who wore spurs and big hats as part of their daily costume, shrieked no. where the plane went he should go. should he consent to ride flat on his stomach on a wing, with the wind sweeping exhaust fumes in his face and the earth a dwindling panorama of monotonous gray landscape far beneath him? his nerves twittered uneasily at the suggestion. but when the motor was going and the plane quivering and kicking back a trail of dust, and johnny had his goggles down and was looking at him expectantly, bland chose the lesser woe and laid himself alongside the fuselage with his head tucked under a wire brace, his hands gripping brace and wing edge, his toes hooked, and his cheek pressed against the sleek covering. he grinned wanly at the boys who watched him, and sent one fervent request up to johnny. "f'r cat's sake, bo, don't stay up long--and keep her balanced!" "hang on!" johnny shouted in reply. the plane veered round, ran down the smooth space alongside the corrals, lifted, and went climbing up toward the lowering sun. then it wheeled slowly in a wide arc, still climbing steadily, swung farther around, pointed its nose toward tucson, and went booming away, straight as a laden bee flies to its hive. chapter ten lochinvar up to date in the tucson calf pasture adjoining the shed now vested with the dignity of a hangar, the thunder bird came to a gentle stand. bland slid limply down and leaned against the plane, looking rather sick. mary v pushed up her goggles and looked around curiously, for once finding nothing to say. johnny unfastened his safety belt and straddled out. he had done it--the crazy thing he had been tempted to do. that is, he had done so much of it. unconsciously he repeated to mary v what he had said to bland down in the indiana corn patch. "well, here we are." mary v unfastened herself from the seat, twisted around and stared at johnny, still finding nothing to say. a strange experience for mary v, i assure you. "well," said johnny again, "here we are." his eyes met mary v's with a certain shyness, a wistfulness and a daring quite unusual. "get out. i'll help you down." "get--out?" mary v caught her breath. "but we must go back, johnny! i--i never meant for you to bring me away up here. why, i only meant a little ride--" "now we're here," said johnny, "we might as well go on with it--get married. that," he blurted desperately, "is why i brought you over here. we'll get married, mary v, and stop all this fussing about when and how and all that. when it's done it'll be done, and i can go ahead the way i've planned, and have the worry off my mind. there's time yet to get a license if we hurry." bland muttered something under his breath and went away to the calf shed and reclined against it disgustedly, too sick from the exhaust in his face all the way to speak his mind. "but johnny!" mary v was gasping. "why, i'm not ready or anything!" "you can get ready afterwards. there's just one thing i ought to tell you, mary v. if you do marry me, you can't take anything from your dad. i can't buy you a new automobile for a while yet, but i'll do the best i can. the point is, your dad is not going to support you or do a thing for you. if you're willing to get along for a while on what i can earn, all right. i guess you won't starve, at that." "well, but you said you wouldn't get married, johnny, until you'd paid--" "i changed my mind. the best way is to settle the marrying part now. i'll do the paying fast enough. are you coming?" mary v climbed meekly out and permitted her abductor to lift her to the ground, and to kiss her twice before he let her go. events were moving so swiftly that mary v was a bit dazed, and she did not argue the point, even when she remembered that a white middy suit was not her idea of the way a bride should be dressed. the very boldness of johnny's proposition, its reckless disregard of the future, swept her along with him down the sandy side street which already held curious stragglers coming to see what new sensation the airplane could furnish. these they passed without speaking, hurrying along, with bland, like a footsore dog, trailing dejectedly after. they passed the hotel and made straight for the county clerk's office, too absorbed in their mission to observe that their passing had brought the three newspaper men from the hotel lobby. bland fell into step with one of these and gave the news. the three scented a good story and hastened their steps. in the county clerk's office were two strangers who glanced significantly at each other when johnny entered the room with mary v close behind him and with bland and the three reporters following like a bodyguard. "here they are," said a short, fat man whom mary v recognized vaguely as the sheriff. he gave a little, satisfied, nickering kind of chuckle, and the sound of it irritated johnny exceedingly. "old man's a good guesser--or else he knows these young ones pretty well. ha-ha. well, son, you can get any kind of license here yuh want, except a marriage license." place a chuckle at the end of every sentence, and you will wonder with me what held johnny jewel from doing murder. "and who the heck are you?" johnny inquired with a deadly sort of calm. "you ain't half as funny as you look. get out." with a jab of his elbow he pushed the sheriff and his chuckle away, guessing that the man with an indoor complexion and a pen behind his ear was the clerk. him he addressed with businesslike bluntness. he wanted a marriage license, and he could see no reason why he should not have it. the man with the chuckle he chose to ignore, instinct telling him that haste was needful. the clerk was a slow man who deliberated upon each sentence, each signature. eager prospective bridegrooms could neither hurry him nor flurry him. he took the pen from behind his ear as a small concession to johnny's demand, but he made no motion toward using it. "are you sure this is the couple?" he cautiously inquired of the sheriff. "sure, i am. i knew this kid of selmer's--have known her by sight ever since she could walk. it's the couple, all right. the girl's eighteen on the twenty-fourth day of next january, at five o'clock in the morning. if you like, robbins, i'll call up selmer. i guess i'd better, anyway. he may want to talk to these kids himself." the clerk put his pen behind his ear again and turned apologetically to johnny. "we'd better wait," he said mildly. "if the young lady's age is questioned, i have no right--" he waved his hand vaguely. "you bet it's questioned," chuckled the sheriff. "her dad 'phoned the office and told us to watch out for 'em. made their getaway in that flying machine there's been such a hullabaloo about. he had a hunch they'd make for here." he turned to johnny with a grin. "pretty cute, young man--but the old man's cuter. every town within flying distance has been notified to look out for you and stop you. your wings," he added, "is clipped." johnny opened his mouth for bitter retort, but thought better of it. nothing could be gained by arguing with the law. he whirled instead on bland and the three reporters, standing just within the open door. "what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded hotly. "who asked you to tag around after me? get out!" whereupon he bundled bland out without ceremony or gentleness, and the three scribes with him; slammed the door shut and turned the key which the clerk had left in the lock. "now," he stated truculently, "i want that marriage license and i want it quick!" the sheriff was humped over the telephone waiting for his connection. he cocked an eye toward johnny, looked at his colleague, and jerked his head sidewise. the man immediately stepped up alongside the irate one and tapped him on the arm. "no rough stuff, see. we can arrest--" "don't you _dare_ arrest johnny!" mary y cried indignantly. "what has he done, for gracious sake? is it a crime for people to get married? johnny and i have been engaged for a long, long while. a month, at least!--and dad knows it, and has thought it was perfectly all right. i told him just this afternoon that i intended to marry johnny. he has no right to tell everybody in the country that i am not old enough. why didn't he tell me, if he thought i should wait until after my birthday?" "if that's my father you're talking to," she attacked the sheriff who was attempting to carry on a conversation and listen to mary v also, "i'd just like to say a few things to him myself!" the sheriff waved her off and spoke into the mouthpiece. "your girl, here, says she wants to say a few things . . . what's that? . . . oh. all right, mr. selmer, you're the doctor." he turned to mary v with that exasperating chuckle of his. "your father says he'd rather not talk to you. he says you can't get married, because you're under age, and you can't marry without his consent. so if i was you i'd just wait like a good girl and not make any trouble. your father is coming after you, and in the meantime i'll take charge of you myself." "you will like hell," gritted johnny, and hit the sheriff on the jaw, sending him full tilt against the clerk, who fell over a chair so that the two sprawled on the floor. for that, the third man, who was a deputy sheriff as it happened, grappled with johnny from behind, and slipped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. the deadly finality of the smooth steel against his skin froze johnny into a semblance of calm. he stood white and very still until the deputy took him away down a corridor into another building and up a steep flight of dirty stairs to a barren, sweltering little room under the roof. baffled, stunned with the humiliation of his plight, he had not even spoken a good-by to mary v, who had looked upon him strangely when he stood manacled before her. "now you've made a nice mess of things!" she had exclaimed, half crying. and johnny had inwardly agreed with her more sweepingly than mary v suspected. a nice mess he had made of things, truly! everything was a muddle, and like the fool he was, he went right on muddling things worse. even mary v could see it, he told himself bitterly, and forgot that mary v had said other things,--tender, pitying things,--before they had led him away from her. he had no delusions regarding the seriousness of his plight. assaulting an officer was a madness he should have avoided above all else, and because he had yielded to that madness he expected to pay more dearly than he was paying old sudden for his folly of the early summer. it seemed to him that the rest of his life would be spent in paying for his own blunders. it was like a nightmare that held him struggling futilely to attain some vital object; for how could he ever hope to achieve great things if he were forever atoning for past mistakes? now, instead of earning money wherewith to pay his debt to sudden, he would be sweltering indefinitely in jail. and when they did finally turn him loose, mary v would be ashamed of her jailbird sweetheart, and his airplane would be--where? he thought of bland, having things his own way with the plane. dissipated, dishonest, with an instinct for petty graft--johnny would be helpless, caged there under the roof of their jail while bland made free with his property. it did not occur to him that that he could call the law to his aid and have the airplane stored safe from bland's pilfering fingers. that little gleam of brightness could not penetrate his gloom; for, once johnny's indomitable optimism failed him, he fell deep indeed into the black pit of despair. strangely, the failure of his impromptu elopement troubled him the least of all. it had been a crazy idea, born of mary v's presence in the airplane and his angry impulse to spite old sudden. he had known all along that it was a crazy idea, and that it was likely to breed complications and jeopardize his dearest ambition, though he had never dreamed just what form the complications would take. even when he landed it was mostly his stubbornness that had sent him on after the marriage license. he simply would not consider taking mary v back to the ranch. it was much easier for him to face the future with a wife and ten dollars and a mortgaged airplane than to face sudden's impassive face and maddening sarcasm. darkness settled muggily upon him, but he did not move from the cot where he had flung himself when the door closed behind his jailer. he still felt the smooth hardness of the handcuffs, though they had been removed before he was left there alone. he did not sleep that night. he lay face down and thought and thought, until his brain whirled, and his emotions dulled to an apathetic hopelessness. that he was tired with a long day's unpleasant occurrences failed to bring forgetfulness of his plight. until the morning crept grayly in through his barred window he lay awake, and then slid swiftly down into slumber so deep that it held no dreams to soothe or to torment with their semblance of reality. two hours later the jailer tried to shake him awake so that he could have his breakfast and the morning paper, but johnny swore incoherently and turned over with his face to the wall. chapter eleven johnny will not be a nice boy the jailer reappeared later, and finding johnny sitting on the edge of the cot with his tousled head between his two palms, scowling moodily at his feet, advised him not unkindly to buck up. without moving, johnny told him to get somewhere out of there. "your girl's father is here and wants to talk to you," the jailer informed him, overlooking the snub. "tell him to go to hell," johnny expanded his invitation. "if you bring him up here i'll kick him down-stairs. and that goes, too. now, get out of here before i--" "aw, say, you ain't in any position to get flossy. look where you are," the jailer reminded him good-naturedly as he closed the door. he must have repeated johnny's words verbatim, for sudden did not insist upon the interview, and no one else came near him. at noon the jailer brought him a note from mary v, along with his lunch, but johnny had no heart for either. he had just finished reading the front-page account of his exploits, and his mood was blacker than ever. no man likes to see his private affairs garbled and exaggerated and dished to the public with the sauce of a heartless reporter's wit. the headlines themselves struck his young dignity a deadly blow: birdman furnishes new sensation! modern lochinvar lands in jail! thunder bird carries maiden off. telephone halts flight in county clerk's office, where couple is arrested. abductor attacks sheriff viciously. is manacled in presence of hysterical young heiress who faints as her lover is overpowered. irate father hurries to the scene. after keeping the country in a turmoil of excitement over his disappearance in an airplane, the skyrider, young jewel, flies boldly to rolling r ranch and abducts beautiful mary v selmer, only daughter of the rich rancher who led the search for the missing birdman. romance is not dead, though airplanes have taken the place of horses when young lochinvar goes boldly out to steal himself a bride. modern inventions cannot cool the hot blood of youth, as young jewel has once more proven. this sensational young man, apparently not content with the uproar of the country for the past three days, when he was believed to be lost on the desert with his airplane, attempts one adventure too many. when he brazenly carried off his sweetheart in his airplane he forgot to first cut the telephone wire. that oversight cost him dear, for now he languishes in jail, while the young lady, who is under age, is being held by the sheriff-- it was sickening, because in a measure it was true, though he had never thought of emulating lochinvar or any one else. he had neither thought nor cared about the public and what it would think, and the blatant way in which he had been made to entertain the country at large humiliated him beyond words. he picked up the square, white envelope tightly sealed and addressed in mary v's straight, uncompromising chirography, turned it over, reconsidered opening it, and flipped it upon the cot. "there was an answer expected," the jailer lingered to hint broadly. "the young lady is waiting, and she seemed right anxious." but johnny merely walked to the barred window and stared across at the blank wall of another building fifteen feet away, and in a moment the jailer went away and left him alone, which was what johnny wanted most. after a while he opened mary v's letter and read it, scowling and biting his lips. mary v, it would seem, had read all that the papers had to say, and was considerably upset by the facetious tone of most of the articles. ". . . and i think it's perfectly terrible, the way everybody stares and whispers and grins. what in the world made you act the way you did and get arrested. and those were reporters that you shoved out of the office, too, and that is why they wrote about us in such a horrid way. and i shall never be able to live it down. i shall be considered hysterical and always fainting, which is not true and a perfect libel which they ought to be sent to jail for printing. i shall probably have that horrid lochinvar piece recited at me the rest of my life, johnny, and i should think you would be willing to apologize to the sheriff and be nice now and make them let you off easy. and dad blames me for eloping with you and thinks we had it planned before he got home yesterday, and he says there was no excuse and it showed a lack of confidence in his judgment. he says you are a d. fool and take yourself too seriously, and it is a pity you couldn't have some sense knocked into you. but you must not mind him now because he is angry and will get over it. but johnny, please do be a good boy now and don't make us any more trouble. i am sure i never dreamed what you had in mind, but i would have married you since we started to, but now it is perfectly odious to have it turn out such a fizzle, with you in jail and i being preached at every waking moment by dad and mommie. if you had only kept your temper and waited until dad and mommie got here, i am sure we would be married by now, because i could have made them give their consent and be present at the wedding and everything go off pleasantly instead of such a horrid mess as this is. "i want you to promise me now that you will be good, and i will make dad get the judge to let you off. won't you please see dad and be nice to him? his calling you a d. fool does not mean anything. that is dad's way when he is peeved, and the jailer says you told him dad could go to h. that is why he said it and not on general principles, because he does really like you, johnny. of course we could see you anyway, because you couldn't help yourself, but dad won't do it unless you are willing to be good. so please, dear, won't you let us come up and talk nicely together? i am sure the sheriff bears no ill will though his jaw is swelled a little but not much. so we can get you out of this scrape if you will meet us halfway and be a nice sensible boy. please, johnny. "your loving mary v." johnny read that last paragraph three times, and gave a snort with each reading. if being let off easy involved the intercession of mary v's father, johnny would prefer imprisonment for life. at least, that is what he told himself. and if being a nice sensible boy meant that he was to apologize to the sheriff and say pretty please to sudden, the chance of johnny's ever being nice and sensible was extremely remote. his loving mary v had said too much--a common mistake. what she should have done was confine her letter to a ten-word message, and tear the message up. a fellow in johnny's frame of mind were better left alone for a while. he sulked until he was taken down into the police court, where his crime was duly presented to the judge and his sentence duly pronounced. knowing nothing whatever of the seamy side of life, as it is seen inside those dismal houses with barred windows, johnny thought he was being treated with much severity. as a matter of fact, his offence was being almost forgiven, and the six days' sentence was merely a bit of discipline applied by the judge because johnny sulked and scowled and scarcely deigned to answer when he was spoken to. the judge had a boy of his own, and it seemed to him that johnny needed time to think, and to recover from his sulks. six days, in his opinion, would be about right. the first two would be spent in revilings; the third and fourth in realizing that he had only himself to blame for his predicament, and the fifth and sixth days would stretch themselves out like months and he would come out a considerably chastened young man. another thing johnny did not know was that, thanks to mary v's father, he was not herded with the other prisoners, where the air was bad and the company was worse. he went back to his room under the roof, where the jailer presently visited him and brought fruit and magazines and a great box of candy, sent by mary v with a doleful little note of good-by as tragic as though he were going to be hanged. johnny was sulkier than ever, but his stomach ached from fasting. he ate the fruit and the candy and gloomed in comparative comfort for the rest of that day. the next day, when the jailer invited him down into the jail yard for a half hour or so, johnny experienced a fresh shock. somewhere, high in the air, he heard the droning hum of his airplane. bland was not neglecting the opportunity johnny had inadvertently given him, then. johnny craned his neck, but he could not see the plane in the patch of sky visible from the yard. he listened, and fancied the sound was diminishing with the distance. bland was probably leaving the country, though johnny could not quite understand how bland had managed to get the funds for a trip. perhaps he had taken up a passenger or two--or if not that, bland undoubtedly had ways of raising money unknown to the honest. oh, well, what did it matter? what did anything matter? all the world was against john ivan jewel, and one treachery more or less could not alter greatly the black total. not one friendly face had he seen in the police court--since he did not call the reporters friendly. mary v had not been there, as he had half expected; nor sudden, as he had feared. the sheriff had not been friendly, in spite of his chuckle. bland had not shown up--the pop-eyed little sneak!--probably because he had already planned this treachery. he went back to his lonely room too utterly depressed to think. apathetically he read the paper which his jailer brought him along with the tobacco which johnny had sent for. smoke was a dreary comfort--the paper was not. the reporters had lost interest in him. whereas two columns had been given to his personal affairs the day before, his troubles to-day had been dismissed with a couple of paragraphs. they told him, however, that the "irate father" had taken the weeping maiden out of town and left the "truculent young birdman pining in captivity." it was a sordid end to a most romantic exploit, declared the paper. and in that johnny agreed. he could not quite visualize mary v as a weeping maiden, unless she had wept tears of anger. but the fact that her irate father had taken her away without a word to him seemed to johnny a silent notice served upon him that he was to be banished definitely and forever from her life. so be it, he told himself proudly. they need not think that he would ever attempt to break down the barrier again. he would bide his time. and perhaps some day-- there hope crept in,--a faint, weary-winged, bedraggled hope, it is true,--to comfort him a little. he was not down and out--yet! he could still show them that he had the stuff in him to make good. he went to the window and listened eagerly. once more he heard the high, strident droning of the thunder bird. he watched, pressing his forehead against the bars. the sound increased steadily, and johnny, gripping the bars until his fingers cramped afterwards, felt a suffocating beat in his throat. a great revulsion seized him, an overwhelming desire to master a situation that had so far mastered him. what were six days--five days now? why, already one day had gone, and the thunder bird was still in town. johnny let go the bars and returned to his cot. the brief spasm of hope had passed. what good would it do him if bland carried passengers from morning until night, every day of the six? bland couldn't save a cent. the more he made, the more he would spend. he would simply go on a spree and perhaps wreck the plane before johnny was free to hold him in check. once more the motor's thrumming pulled him to the window. again he craned and listened, and this time he saw it, flying low so that the landing gear showed plainly and he could even see bland in the rear seat. he knew him by the drooping shoulders, the set of his head, by that indefinable something which identifies a man to his acquaintances at a distance. in the front seat was a stranger. he could see the swirl of the propeller, like fine, circular lines drawn in the air. the exhaust trailed a ribbon of bluish white behind the tail. and that indescribable thrumming vibrated through the air and tore the very soul of him with yearning. there it went, his airplane, that he loved more than he had ever loved anything in his life. there it went, boring through the air, all aquiver with life, a sentient, live thing to be worshipped; a thing to fight for, a thing to cling to as he clung to life itself. and here was he, locked into a hot, bare little room, fed as one feeds a caged beast. disgraced, abandoned, impotent. it was in that hour that johnny found deeper depths of despair than he had dreamed of before. bedraggled hope limped away, crushed and battered anew by this fresh tragedy. chapter twelve the thunder bird takes wing the days dragged interminably, but they passed somehow, and one morning johnny was free to go where he would. where he would go he believed was a matter of little interest to him, but without waiting for his brain to decide, his feet took him down the sandy side street to the calf shed that had held his treasure. he did not expect to see it there. for three days he had not heard the unmistakable hum of its motor, though his ears were always strained to catch the sound that would tell him bland had not gone. some stubborn streak in him would not permit him to ask the jailer whether the airplane was still in town. or perhaps he dreaded to hear that it was gone. his glance went dismally over the bare stretches he had used for his field. the wind had levelled the loose dirt over the tracks, so that the field looked long deserted and added its mite to his depressed mood. he hesitated, almost minded to turn back. what was the use of tormenting himself further? but then it occurred to him that his whole world lay as forlornly empty before him as this field and hangar, and that one place was like another to him, who had lost his hold on everything worth while. he had a vague notion to invoke the aid of the law to hold bland and the plane, wherever he might be located, but he was not feeling particularly friendly toward the law just now, and the idea remained nebulous and remote. he went on because there was really nothing to turn back for. his dull apathy of despair received something in the nature of a shock when he walked around the corner and almost butted into bland, who had just finished tightening a turnbuckle and stepped back to walk around the end of a wing. bland's pale, unpleasant eyes watered with welcome--which was even more surprising to johnny than his actual presence there. "why, hello, old top! they told me you'd be let out t'day, but i didn't know just when. you're looking peaked. didn't they feed yuh good?" johnny did not answer. he went up and ran his fingers caressingly along the polished propeller blade that slanted toward him; he fingered the cables and touched the smooth curve of the wing as if he needed more evidence than his eyes could furnish that the thunder bird was there, where he had not dared hope he would find it. bland came up with an eager, apologetic air and stood beside him. he was like a dog that waits to be sure of his mastery mood before he makes any wild demonstrations of joy at the end of a forced separation. "i been overhauling the motor, bo, and i got her all tuned up and in fine shape for you. she's ready to take the long trail any old time. i flew her for a couple of days, bo; took up passengers fast as they could climb in and out. i knew you said you was about broke, so i went ahead and took in some coin. i'll say i did. three hundred bones the first day,--how's that? there was a gang around here all day. i didn't get a chance to eat, even. second day i made a hundred and ninety, and got a flat tire, so i quit. next day i took in a hundred and thirty. then i put her in here and went to work on the motor. i figured, the way they had throwed it into you, you'd probably want to beat it soon as you got out, and i was afraid to overwork the motor and maybe have to wait while i sent to los angeles for new parts. it was time to quit while the quittin' was good, bo. here's your money--all except what i spent for gas and oil and a few tools and one thing and another. i kept out my share, and i ain't chargin' you for flying. that goes in the bargain, that i'll fly in an emergency like that. so this is yours." then he had to add an i-told-you-so sentence. "goes to prove i was right, don't it? didn't i say there was big money in flyin'?" he held out a roll of bills tied with a string; a roll big as johnny's wrist. johnny looked at it, looked into eland's lean, grimy face queerly. "good golly!" he said in a hushed tone, and that was the first normal, johnny-jewel phrase he had spoken for six days. "well, there's plenty to see yuh through, if you want to try the coast," bland urged, watching johnny's face avidly. "way they done yuh dirt here, bo, i couldn't git out quick enough, if it was me. i'll say i couldn't. and out there's where the real money is. here, i've taken everybody up that's got the nerve and the ten dollars. in los angeles you can be taking in money like that every day. f'r cat's sake, bo, let's git outa this. they ain't handed you nothin' but the worst of it." he had changed his point of view considerably since he painted the picture of easy wealth in tucson, to be won on the strength of the newspaper publicity johnny had acquired. he had seen something in johnny's face that encouraged him to suggest los angeles once more as the ultimate goal of all true aviators. johnny had nothing to hold him, now that mary v had broken with him--as bland understood the separation. with mary v's influence strong upon johnny's decisions, bland had bided his time; but there was nothing now to hold him, everything to urge him away from the place. and bland pined for the gay cafes on spring street. (they are not so gay nowadays, but that is beside the point, for bland remembered them as being gay, and for their gayety he pined.) johnny resorted to his old subterfuge of rolling and smoking a cigarette very deliberately while he made up his mind what to do. and bland watched his face as a hungry dog watches for flung scraps of food. "aw, come on, bo! f'r cat's sake let's get to a regular town where we got a chance to make real money! why--think of it! we can start now, and with luck we can sleep in los angeles to-night. and it won't be hot like it is here, and you can git a decent meal and see a decent show while you put yourself outside it. and," he added artfully, giving the propeller a pull, "the thunder bird is achin' to fly. look underneath, bo. i've got her name painted on the under side, too, so she'll holler her name like a honkin' goose as she flies. and you don't want her to go squawking thunder bird to these damn' hicks, i guess, and keep 'em rememberin' that you spent six days--" "that'll be about all," johnny cut him short. "no, i don't want anything more of this darn country. i'm willing to fly to los angeles or miles city, montana--just so we get outa here. come on, if you're ready. we'll make a bee line for the coast. we'd better take grub and water in case of accidents. you know what happened to the poor devils that lost this plane in the first place, before i got it." bland's jaw went slack. los angeles, that had seemed so near, wavered and receded like a fading mirage. what had happened to those who had abandoned the plane where johnny had found it was a horror bland disliked to contemplate; a horror of thirst and crazed wanderings over hot band and through parched greasewood, with lizards and snakes for company. "there can't be any accidents, bo," he said uneasily. "i've went over the motor careful, and we oughta make it with about two stops for gas and oil. if i thought we'd git caught out--" johnny threw away his cigarette stub and straightened his shoulders. "well, we're going to try it," he stated definitely. "you needn't think i'm anxious to get caught out in that damned desert--i know what it's like, a heap better than you do, bland. there's ways to commit suicide that's quicker and easier than running around in circles on the desert without water. i aim to play safe. you go down town and buy an extra water bag and some grub. and when we start we'll follow the railroad. beat it--and say! don't go and load up with sandwiches like a town hick. get half a dozen small cans of beans, and some salt and pancake flour and matches and a small frying pan and bucket and a hunk of bacon and some coffee. and say!" he called as bland was hurrying off, "don't forget that water bag!" bland nodded to show that he heard, and struck a trot down the street. and johnny, while he occupied himself with going over the plane and making sure that the gas tank was full and there was plenty of oil, almost whistled until the thought of mary v pulled his lips down at the corners. he wanted to call up the ranch and see if she were there, and tell her where he was going, but that seemed foolish, after a week of silence from her. he shrank from the possibility of being told that mary v wished to have nothing to do with him. so pride stiffened his determination to go on and let them think what they pleased of him. bland came back with a furtive look in his pale-blue eyes. johnny gave him a keenly appraising glance, edged close and sniffed, and decided that he was too suspicious and that bland's sneaking look was merely an outcropping of his nature and had nothing to do with prohibition. bland had the supplies in a gunny sack and made haste to stow them away to the best advantage. bland carried a guilty conscience. the hotel clerk had hailed him as he passed and had inquired for johnny. "long distance" had a call for him, and had insisted that johnny be found at once and put in connection with the "party" who wished to talk with him. bland had promised to find johnny and tell him, and had hurried on. a block farther down the street a messenger boy had hailed him and asked him if he knew where johnny jewel was. "long distance" was calling and had orders to search the town and get johnny on the 'phone at once. the call had come in just after johnny had left the jail, and no one seemed to know where he had gone. "it's his girl--the one he tried to elope with," the boy had informed bland with that uncanny knowledge of state secrets which messenger boys are prone to display. "she'll tear the telephone out by the roots if we don't get him. is he over to the flying-machine shed?" bland lied, and promised again that he would try and find johnny and tell him to hurry to a telephone. bland had shaved seconds off every minute thereafter, getting through with his errand and back to the hangar. he had expected to be followed out there, and he was in a secret agony of haste which he betrayed in every move he made. but johnny was himself in a hurry to be gone, and excitement over the adventure and a troubled sense of running away occupied his mind so that he gave little heed to bland. he climbed in, and bland raised his two arms to the propeller blade and waited with visible impatience for the word. he had that word. and bland, who had glanced over his shoulder and glimpsed some one coming,--some one who much resembled a messenger boy,--turned the motor over with one mighty pull, and made the cockpit in two jumps and a straddle. "we're off, bo! give it to 'er!" he shouted, in a tone quite foreign to his usual languid whine, and fastened his safety belt. johnny settled himself, felt out his controls, gave her more gas. a uniformed young fellow, running toward them, shouted something, but johnny gave no heed. uniforms did not appeal to him, anyway. he scowled at this one and went taxieing down the field, spurned the earth, and whirred off into the air. "we want to climb to about ten thousand," bland shouted over his shoulder, "and f'r cat's sake, don't let's lose sight of the railroad." rapidly the earth dropped away. the town shrunk to a handful of toy houses flung carelessly down upon a dingy gray carpet, with a yellow seam stretched across--which was the railroad--and yellow gashes here and there. the toy houses dwindled to mere dots on a relief map of gray with green splotches here and there for groves and orchards not yet denuded of leaves. their ears were filled with the pulsing roar of the motor, their faces tingled with the keen wind of their passing through the higher spaces. away down below, where the dust they had kicked up had not yet settled, the messenger boy stood open-mouthed, with his cap tilted precariously on the bulge of his head, a damp lock of hair straggling down into his right eyebrow, while he craned his neck to stare after the dwindling speck. he waited, leaning against the shady side of the shed with his feet crossed; but the thunder bird did not circle back and prepare to descend the invisible spiral it had climbed so ardently. two cigarettes he smoked leisurely, now and then tilting back his head and squinting into the silent blue depth above. he drew out his book and looked at the slip saying that johnny jewel was being called by the rolling r ranch on long-distance telephone. he squinted again at the sky, cocked his ear like a spaniel and got no faint humming, replaced the slip in his book and the book in his torn-down pocket, and presently meandered back to town. away off to the west, so high that it looked a mere speck floating swiftly, the thunder bird went roaring, steadily boring its way to journey's end. and a little farther to the south, mary v was making life unpleasant for the telephone operator and for her mother who preached patience and courtesy to those who toll, and for her dad who had ventured to inquire what she wanted to dog that young imp for, anyway, and why didn't she try waiting until he showed interest enough in somebody besides himself to call her up? and where was her pride, anyway? then, after what seemed to mary v sufficient time to call johnny from the farthest corner of the universe, the telephone jangled. the operator told her, with what mary v called a perfectly intolerable tone of spite, that her "party" could not be located for her at present, as he had left town. "and i hope to goodness he stays!" gritted mary v, slamming the receiver on its hook. "with dad acting the way he did and treating johnny like a _dog_, and with johnny acting worse than dad does and treating me as if i were to blame for everything, i just wish men had never been born. i don't see what use they are in the world, except to drive a person raving distracted. now, dad, just see what you have done!" she confronted sudden like a small fury. "you wanted to teach johnny a lesson, and you refused to let me see him while he was in jail, just because he told you to go somewhere. and you know perfectly well that you swore worse about him. and he did not plan to elope. he--he just did it because i was right there and--handy. and now see what you've done! you wouldn't let me go to him, and now he's out, and he has left town, and nobody knows where he is! i should think, for a parent who is responsible to heaven for his offspring's happiness, you'd be ashamed of yourself. you let me be engaged to him, and now you've gone and balled things up until i wish i were dead!" about that time johnny turned his head and stared wistfully down at the gray expanse sliding away beneath him. off there to the left was the rolling r ranch--and mary v. he wondered dully if it would hurt her, this abrupt ending of their dreams. or had she ever really cared? bland, sitting in front with his guilty secret, felt the swing johnny was unconsciously giving to the plane, and set his control against it. the thunder bird veered, hesitated, and came back to the course. johnny took a long breath and turned his eyes to the front again. the past was past--the future lay all before him. he set his teeth together and drove the thunder bird straight into the west. chapter thirteen tee hegira of john ivan jewel fiction would give to the venture a hairbreadth escape or two and many insurmountable obstacles which would, of course, be triumphantly surmounted by the hero. but fact will have it otherwise, and the chronicler of events must not be blamed if the hegira of john ivan jewel lacked excitement. the thunder bird flew high, with a steady air current behind which gave the plane more speed than johnny had hoped for, and brought them close to yuma before the gas gauge began to worry him. they descended cautiously, circled over the town like a wild duck over a pond, choosing their landing. they alighted without mishap and johnny hired a decent-looking mexican to watch the plane and protect it from curious meddlers while he and bland went into town and ate their fill, and bought gas and oil to be delivered immediately. before the town had fairly awakened to the fact that an airplane had descended in its immediate vicinity, they were off again, climbing once more to the high air lanes that made smoother going. the motor worked smoothly, the hand of the tachometer wavering around twelve hundred, and the altometer registering nine thousand feet, save when they dipped and lifted to the uneven currents over the mountains. the thunder bird seemed alive, glorying in her native element. the earth slid away like a map unrolled endlessly beneath them. desert and little towns on the railroad like broken beads strung loosely on a taut wire. salton sea was cool and tempting, though the air shimmered all around it with heat. they flew the full length of it and on up the valley. then they climbed higher and so breasted the currents flowing over the san jacintos. and over a little town set in level country they wheeled, descending and searching for a field. again they landed and filled their gas tank and went on. always it was the distance ahead that called them. always they grudged the minutes lost, as though they were racing against time and the stakes were high. after the last stop, exaltation seized johnny and lifted him high above the sordid things of earth. trouble dropped away from him; rather, it was left behind as he flew toward the sunset, he lost the sense of weight that clogs the bodies of human creatures plodding over the earth's uneven surface and became as an eagle, soaring high on wings that never tired. never before had he remained so long in flight, wherefore he had never attained so completely that birdlike feeling of mastery in the air. falling seemed impossible; as easily could his senses have visualized falling through the earth in the old days of crawling. there was no earth. there was only a sliding relief map far below to guide him in his triumphant flight. tucson, the rolling r--they were clouds that hovered far back on the horizon of his mind. mary v was a dim vision that came and went but never quite took definite form. the roar of the motor he had long ceased to hear. godlike he floated with wings outspread, straight into the sunset. the sliding map below took on strange, beautiful colors of purple and gold and rose, with sometimes a wonderful blending of all. before him the sky was a gorgeous, piled radiance. the earth colors changed, softened, deepened to a mysterious shadowy expanse, with here and there a brightness where the sun touched a hilltop. "we better drop a little," bland shouted. "i gotta keep my bearings!" swiftly the vague outlines sharpened. groves and groves and groves appeared beneath them. and small islands of twinkling stars, set in patterns and squares, with here and there a splotch of brightness. and single stars that had somehow strayed and lay twinkling, lost in the great squares of dark green. "we gotta make it before dark," bland yelled. "i been away a year. i need daylight--" they gave her more gas, and johnny became conscious of the motor's voice. eighty miles she was doing now, on a gentle incline that lifted the earth a little nearer. the glory before them was deepening to ruby red that glowed and darkened. beneath the heaped radiance lay a sea of stars--and beyond, a smooth floor of polished purple. "there's los angeles--and over beyond is the ocean!" called bland, turning his head a little. johnny sucked in his breath and nodded, forgetting that bland could not see the motion. "gimme the control--i gotta pick out a landing! i'll head for inglewood. they's a big field--" inglewood meant nothing at all to johnny, even had he heard the name distinctly, which he did not. it cost him an effort to yield the control, but he pulled hands and feet away and sat passive, breathing quickly, gazing down at the wonders spread beneath him. for this was his first amazed sight of los angeles, though he had twice passed through the city in a train that clung to dingy streets and left him an impression of grime and lumbering trucks and clanging street cars and more grime, and chinese signs painted on shacks, and slinking figures. but this was a magic city spread beneath him. it glowed and twinkled behind the thin veil of dusk. there seemed no end to the lights which overflowed the lower slopes of the cupped hills at their right and hesitated on the very brink of the purpling ocean before them. bland shut off the motor and they glided, the plane silent as a great bat. the city disclosed houses, and streets down which lighted cars seemed to be standing still, so much greater was the speed of the thunder bird. they passed the thickest sprinkle of lights and headed for dark slopes midway between the indrawing hills. many pairs of bright lights crawled along a narrow black pathway. now the ocean was nearer, so that johnny could see a fringe of white along its edge where waves lapped up to the lights. they swooped, flattened out, and glided again while bland picked up certain landmarks. the motor spoke, its voice increased while they banked in a circle and swooped again. now a long bare stretch lay just ahead. the motor stopped, and they volplaned steeply; flattened, dipped a little, skimmed close to earth, touched, lifted again. "f'r cat's sake, what they went and done to this field?" bland's whining voice complained, and he swung the thunder bird away from a long windrow of dried vines, just in time to avoid entangling the wheels. they settled, ran along uneven surface for a space. a small loose pile lay just ahead, and bland veered sharply away. another pile to the left caught the wheels just as the tail was settling. the thunder bird jerked, staggered drunkenly, wheeled over the pile and then, with a gentle determination quite unexpected in so docile a bird, turned itself up on its nose and with a splintering crash of the propeller tilted on over until it lay flat on its back. which was a silly ending to so glorious a flight. johnny, hanging upside down with the strap strained tight across his loins, with bland dangling before him, felt even sillier than the thunder bird looked. he freed himself after the first paralyzing shock of surprise, dropped on all fours upon the upper wing covering, and crawled out between the front braces. a minute later bland followed, looking extremely foolish. "that's a hell of a way to land!" johnny snorted. "what kinda pilot are you, for gosh sake?" "aw, how was i to know they'd went and planted this field to beans? i been away a year, almost. it was a good field when i was here before. come on and let's turn her back, bo, before all the cylinders is full of oil." then bland added with a surprising optimism in one so given to complaining, "we're here, and we ain't hurt, and los angeles is just back there a ways. i'm satisfied." "yes, and we shelled the beans--that's something more," johnny sarcastically added to the sum of their blessings. with some labor they turned the thunder bird right side up. it was too dark to estimate the damage, and bland suggested that they catch a street car and ride into town. he did not inform johnny then how far they must walk before they would be within catching distance, and johnny started off willingly enough, after bland had convinced him that the thunder bird would be perfectly safe until morning. it was a quiet neighborhood, he declared, and no one would be likely to come near the place. if they did, they could not fly off with the thunder bird unless they happened to be carrying an extra propeller around with them. this, johnny suspected, was bland's best attempt at irony. they walked and they walked, at first along a rough country road that seemed real boulevard to johnny, who was accustomed to the trails of arizona. later they emerged upon asphalt, and trudged along the edge of that for a time, moving aside as swift bars of light bathed them briefly, with the swish of speeding automobiles brushing close. johnny's head was roaring with the remembered beat of the thunder bird's motor. in the silence between automobiles it deafened him so that bland's drawling voice came to him dully, the words muffled. "we'll have to get us a car," bland repeated three times before johnny understood. "oh. i thought you meant we're getting close to a car," johnny grumbled. "how much farther we got to walk, for gosh sake?" "about a mile now, bo. it's only--" "a mile! good golly! i thought we was flying to los angeles! you never said we had to walk half the way from tucson. what in thunder made you fly forty miles beyond the darned place! just so you'd have a chance to wreck the plane? a hell of a pilot you are!" bland protested, trailing a step behind johnny, whose stride had lengthened with the bad news. did johnny think, f'r cat's sake, he could light in front of the alexandria and call a bell-hop to take the plane? did he think they could put the darn thing in an auto park? what about telephone wires and electric light wires and trolley wires? bland would like to know. leave it to johnny, the crowd would now be roped off the spot and the cops fighting to make a gangway for the ambulance, and women would edge up and faint at the ghastly sight. leave it to johnny-- "leave it to me," johnny cut in acrimoniously, "and we'd have landed right side up, anyway. i wouldn't have lit in the middle of a mess of beans. beans! good gosh! for half a cent i'd go back and make camp there. that's what we ought to do, anyway, instead of walking all night, getting to town. we've got grub enough--and there's _beans_!" "aw, now, bo, have a heart! you wait till i lead you into the frolic, and you won't say beans no more. you wait till you git your knees pushed under the mahogany and the head waiter scatters the glasses around your plate, and you lamp the dames--" he stopped abruptly, his jaw going slack with dismay. "only we ain't got the scenery for no such place as the frolic," he mourned. "lookin' the way we do, we'd be eyed suspicious if we went to grab a tray in boos brothers! some main street waffle joint is about our number, unless--" "a waffle joint sounds good to me," johnny said. "i didn't come out here to spend money. i'm here to make it." "that's all right, bo. i ain't going to hit any flowery path either. but listen, old top. we've had a hard day, and before that a bunch of 'em. we've earned one good meal, ain't we? that ain't going to hurt nobody, bo. just to celebrate our arrival and git the taste of the desert out of our mouths. i'll say we've earned it. and it needn't cost so much. and listen here, bo. i know a place on main where we can rent the scenery. lots of fellers do that, and nobody the wiser. i don't mean open-face coats, neither. just some good clothes that have got class will do fine. and we can git a shave there, and go to the frolic and have some regular chow, bo, and listen to the tra-la-la girlies warble whilst we eat. come on. be a regular guy for oncet!" "do regular guys wear borrowed clothes? not where i come from, they don't." "aw, them hicks! well, you can buy what you want, if that suits you better. i'll take you to a place that keeps open evenings. there'll be time enough. the frolic don't hardly git woke up till ten or 'leven, anyway." "at that it will be closed for the night before we arrive," johnny stated morosely. "it's a wonder to me you let the ocean stop you, bland. "why didn't you go on and light in japan? we could have caught a boat back then, instead of walking." once more bland protested and explained and defended himself. but johnny had already drifted off into troubled meditation rendered somewhat vague and inconsequential by his rapid changes of financial condition, moods, environment--the brief ecstasy of his triumphant flight that had so ridiculous a climax. small wonder that bland's whining voice failed to register anything but a dreary monotone of meaningless words in johnny's ears. small wonder that johnny's thoughts dwelt upon little worries that could have no possible bearing upon the big things he meant to do. how much would a new propeller cost? would all the barber shops be closed when they reached town? he needed a haircut and a hot bath before he would feel fit to walk the streets. should he take at once the position he meant to maintain, and stop at the best hotel in town, as an aviator who owned the plane he flew and had a roll of money in his pocket might be expected to do? or should he go to some cheap rooming house and save a few dollars, and sink into obscurity among the city's strange thousands? he remembered the headlines concerning him--front-page headlines that crowded europe's war into second place! he had not seen anything much about himself lately, though the jailer had brought him a paper every morning. certainly his misfortune had not been given the prominence accorded to his disappearance. if he should go to some good hotel and register as john ivan jewel, tucson, arizona, the reporters might remember the name. probably they would, and his arrival would be announced-- what would they think, if he walked in just as he was; leather coat, aviator's cap with the ear-tabs flapping, corduroy breeches tucked into riding boots that needed a shine and the heels straightened? would they put him out, or would they think he was so rich and famous he didn't give a darn? he wondered what mary v would think, if she knew that he was here in los angeles. would she care whether she ever saw him again? or could girls forget a fellow all at once? were they still engaged, so long as she did not return his ring? he wished he knew what was the rule in cases like this. then it struck him that mary v could not return the ring now if she wanted to. she would not know where to send it. she might have sent it to him while he was in jail--but probably she feared that the reporters might hear about it. how much would a propeller cost, any way? there would probably be more than that broken--the thunder bird had turned over with quite a jolt. no, certainly he should not spend money on high-priced hotels until he had things moving again. there would be no more money coming in until the plane was repaired--darn it, there was always that big hump in the trail; always something in the way, something to postpone his grasping at success! now he'd have to sleep in some hot, frowsy little room for about four bits, instead of luxuriating in a suite as he would like to do. they reached the little suburban village and the street car. johnny had an impulse to stop there for the night and leave the city to a more propitious time, but bland was already licking lips in anticipation of the joys of spring street, and made such vehement protest that johnny yielded. if he stayed in inglewood bland would go on without him, and johnny did not want that, for bland might not come back. and whatever his mental and moral shortcomings, bland was somebody whom johnny knew; if not a friend, yet a familiar personality in a city filled with strangers. perhaps it was the night that veiled the city's big human workaday side and showed only the cold, blue-white residence streets palm-shaded and remote, and the inhospitable closed stores and shops of the business district, that gave johnny a lost, lonesome feeling of utter homelessness. for the matter of that, johnny could not remember when he was not homeless--but he did not often feel depressed by the fact. he followed bland down the car steps at fifth street, walked with him past a delicatessen store whence apartment dwellers were trickling, their hands full of small paper bags and packages. they looked pale and sickly and harassed to johnny, to whom desert-browned faces were a standard by which he measured all others. a barber shop reminded him of grime and untrimmed hair, and he halted so abruptly that bland forged several paces ahead before he missed him. he turned back grumbling, just as johnny went in at the door, and followed grudgingly. he had wanted a glass of beer first of all, but yielded the point and took his shave resignedly. johnny spent a full hour in that shop, and when he emerged he was worth the second glance he got from the girls hurrying homeward. tubbed, shaven, trimmed, a fresh shine on boots that still showed the marks of spurs worn from dawn to dark when those boots were new, he towered above bland halliday, who looked dingier and more down-at-heel than ever by contrast. it would take more than shaven jowls to make a gentleman of bland. they went on to broadway, crossed it precariously, and reached the pavement by what johnny considered a hair's-breadth of safety as a big car slid past his heels. they passed lighted plate-glass windows wherein silver and gold gleamed richly. then bland unwittingly pushed johnny jewel from the edge of obscurity into the bright light of notoriety again. bland said, "i know a joint where we can git a good room for fifty cents--and no questions asked, bo." they happened at that moment to be nearing the immaculate white-gloved doorman who stands ward over the entrance to the alexandria. johnny looked at him, saw what exclusive hostelry was named upon his cap band, and stopped. "you can go to your joint where they don't ask questions," he said somewhat loftily to bland. "i'll stop here where they don't have to." bland gasped, but johnny was already turning in past the immaculate white-gloved one who bowed as johnny brushed him by. bland had only time enough to mutter, "i'll wait here till you register," before johnny disappeared into the subdued elegance where bland would not venture. "till they throw yuh out, you boob," bland amended his parting sentence. "stoppin' at the alexandria--hnm!" johnny, secure in his fresh cleanness and his ignorance of the traditions of the place, strode through the onyx-pillared lobby peopled with well-fed, modish human beings who conversed in modulated voices or bustled in and out, engrossed with affairs which might or might not be of national importance. at the desk a perfectly groomed, worldly wise aristocrat proffered a pen well inked and gave johnny what bland would have termed the double o. before he had finished pressing blotter upon "john ivan jewel, tucson, arizona", his brain had registered certain details and his smile had attained a certain quality of deference. "we are glad to have you with us, mr. jewel. ah--a room and bath, say on the sixth floor? ah--did you have a good flight, mr. jewel?" oh, the adaptability of american youth! "made it in seven hours continuous flight," johnny informed him carelessly. "nothing to it. yes, the sixth floor will be all right. didn't bring any baggage--didn't want to load the plane down." and that clerk, to whom baggageless guests are ever objects of suspicion, smiled understandingly and called his favorite boy, and when johnny's back was turned, immediately whispered the news that that arizona flyer who had been so much in the public eye lately, was a guest of the hotel, having flown over in five hours. chapter fourteen fate meets johnny smiling johnny inspected his room and bath on the sixth floor and straightway began to worry about the bill. the shaded reading lamp by the bed impressed him mightily, as did the smoking set on its own little mahogany stand, and the coat-hangers in the closet. johnny was accustomed to stopping in hotels where the furnishings were all but nailed down, and the little conveniences were conspicuously absent. this, he decided, was a regular place; a home for millionaires. he doubted very much whether the thunder bird was worth the furniture in this one room, and wondered at his own temerity in making free with it. to brace his courage he must untie the roll of money bland had given him in tucson and count the bank notes twice. "by golly, i can stand one night here, any way," he reassured himself finally, and took a long breath. just then a bell boy tapped discreetly on the door, and when johnny opened it he slipped in with a pitcher of ice water, which he carried to a table with the air of a loyal henchman serving his king, which means that he was thinking of tips. in the exuberance of his fresh sensation of affluence and his gratitude for the service, johnny pulled off a five-dollar bill and gave it to the boy. the bell boy said, "thank you, sir," and added breathlessly, "gee, i wish i was an aviator, mr. jewel!" sir and mister all in one breath, and to be called an aviator besides had a perceptible effect upon johnny. he swaggered across the room that had a moment ago awed him to the point of wanting to walk on his toes. of course he was an aviator! hadn't he been flying in his own plane? what more did it take, for gosh sake? a pilot's license was a mere detail, alongside the night he had made that day. he should say he was an aviator! the 'phone tinkled. a man from the _times_ wanted to talk with him, it seemed. johnny gruffly told him over the house 'phone that he didn't care to be interviewed. "you boys get too fresh," he censured. "you don't stick to facts. you're going to get in trouble if you don't let up on me. i hate this publicity stuff, anyway. i wish you'd go off somewhere and die quietly and leave me alone." "well, just let me come up and explain," the reporter urged. "all i want is a story of your flight across country. you're mistaken if you think i'm guilty of--" "oh, well, if that's all you want. but i'm just about off reporters for life. you'll have to do some apologizing, believe me!" johnny was sprawled on the nice, white bed, with his boot heels cocked up on the expensive mahogany footboard. he had the two big, puffy pillows wadded under his head and the reading lamp lighted and throwing a rosy shadow on his tanned countenance. the smoking set was pulled close and he was reaching for a match when the reporter knocked. "come in," he called boredly, and fanned the smoke from before his face that he might look upon this unwelcome visitor who was going to apologize for the sins of his colleagues in arizona. the reporter, once he was inside, did not look apologetic, nor did he resemble a reporter, as johnny knew them. he was a slim young man, tall enough to wear his clothes like the apollos you see pictured in tailors' advertisements. indeed, he much resembled those young men. he wore light gray, with the coat buttoned at the bottom and loose over his manly chest. he also wore a gray hat tilted over one temple in the approved style for illustrated catalogues. he had gray gloves crumpled in one hand and a cane in the other, and he stood with his immaculately shod feet slightly apart, gently swung the cane, and regarded johnny with a faint smile of extreme boredom. johnny bore the scrutiny in silence, stifling the impulse to rise and offer apollo a chair. instead, he turned lazily and knocked the ash collar off his cigarette, and afterward thumped the top pillow before he resettled himself. "won't cost anything to sit down," he observed amiably. "well, where's that apology?" the slim young man laughed to himself, deposited his cane and gloves on a chair, moved his feet slightly farther apart and produced a small pad. "for the sins i may commit, i humbly apologize. whatever it was your sagebrush scribes perpetrated i didn't write it, therefore we should not quarrel. a few details on your trip to-day will be of interest, mr. jewel." johnny grinned. "there ain't any details. we just flew till we got here, and then we lit." "we?" the gray-clad one lifted a finely formed eyebrow. "my mechanic and me." "ah." the fellow made a mark or two with his pencil and waited for more--until he perceived that more would not be forthcoming. "and now that you have lit, what do you expect to do, may i ask?" "oh-h--" johnny covered a wide yawn with his palm, "make money. what else is there to do?" "go broke," the reporter suggested, smiling again--with less boredom, by the way. "old stuff," johnny grunted. "i aim to be different." the fashion plate laughed almost humanly. "if half they said of you is true, you've nothing to complain about. by the way--how much of it was true? i mean how you salvaged the plane from mexico and used it to catch horse thieves, and the indian god stuff, and the lochinvar--" johnny sat up belligerently. "say! what are you looking for? trouble?" "merely verifying rumors. a very natural professional caution, i assure you." "caution! hnh! funny way you've got of being cautious, old-timer. i'd call it a fine way of heading down-stairs without waiting for the elevator." "i understand--perfectly. so you have no settled plans for the future, i take it? just ready for whatever turns up that looks promising?" johnny grunted and looked at his watch. hunger, which he had forgotten in the novelty of his surroundings, began to manifest itself again. he got up and gleaned his aviator's helmet from a branch of the mahogany hatrack and looked at it dubiously, wishing that it was his big four stetson instead. "what i'm ready for right now is chuck," he said pointedly. "i ain't fortune teller enough to give you any line on my future. i wish to heck i could. i'm out here to make good at flying. money--that's what i want. lots of it. but right now i want a square meal more than anything. so i'm afraid--" "all right, jewel. i cease to be a news hound and become your host, with your permission. let me take you to a regular place, will you? i haven't had dinner yet myself." "you ain't? good golly! what you been doing all day?" the reporter who had ceased to be a reporter checked a smile while he picked up gloves and cane and opened the door. "say! if i told you all i've been doing, old man, you'd think flying from tucson is a snap! it's a merry life we newspaper men lead. not." they were at the elevator before it occurred to johnny that he was deviating considerably from his intended line of conduct. he remembered that bland had promised to wait for him outside the door. he was not at all certain that bland would do so in the face of temptations,--such as hunger and thirst,--but it seemed a shabby trick to play him nevertheless. instinct warned him that bland could not be included in the invitation. bland was indefinably but inexorably out of it. this fellow--and there johnny remembered that he did not know the name of his host, and that he had but a moment ago all but threatened to throw him down six flights of winding stairs built all of steel or marble or some hard fireproof substance that would make painful tobogganing. he eyed askance the nameless one and was impressed anew by the absolute correctness of his attire. he wondered that the fellow was not ashamed to be seen in public with him. "my name, by the way, is lowell. cliff lowell." this was in the elevator. "the desk clerk will tell you as much as any one need know about me, if you feel the need of credentials." the elevator halted, and the human automaton who operated it slid open the door. "i don't often yield to these sudden impulses myself. but life is a bore--and you are different. i somehow feel as if we are going to hit it off all right together. at any rate, i am willing to gamble on the acquaintance for one evening. i take it you are in the same boat--eh?" "sure," said johnny, flattered without in the least knowing what it was that warmed him toward cliff lowell so suddenly. "i suppose i ought to--my mechanic was to wait outside for me--" cliff lowell lifted an eyebrow and smiled a little smile. "you must have a very well-trained mechanic if he really would wait outside at this time in the evening." he bowed and lifted his hat to an impressive old lady in some glittery, lacy kind of gown, and johnny bowed also and blushed because a girl just beyond the old lady gave him a slant-eyed glance and the shadow of a smile. ten steps farther a fierce looking man with a wide, white frontage and a high silk hat slowed his pace and cried, "why, hello, cliff!" in a manner not at all fierce. between there and the entrance johnny counted seven important looking persons who recognized his host as an acquaintance. he began to wonder at his own presumption in receiving one of los angeles' leading citizens as he had received cliff lowell. it was with a conscious effort that he maintained his attitude of sturdy independence. bland, it transpired, had tired of waiting for johnny. he was nowhere to be seen, and with a parting salute from the white-gloved doorman they set out briskly for the regular place cliff lowell had chosen to honor with his patronage. the regular place was such a very regular place that it had disdained blatant electric signs and portents of its presence. cliff led johnny up a flight of narrow stairs and turned sharply to the left through a subdued kind of vestibule that gave no inkling of what lay beyond, except that a chipper young hat boy took their headgear and the cane and gloves before they went on. johnny jewel, desert product that he was, nearly stampeded before cliff had safely seated him, with the help of the head waiter, who spoke with a full french flavor. the table chosen for them stood before a long divan whereon they sat side by side and faced the room filled to overflowing with small groups of diners who seemed very much at home there and very much pleased with life and with one another. many of them called greetings to cliff lowell, who responded with his bored smile, like a matinee idol who feels he needs a vacation. girls with improbable complexions and sophisticated eyes sent johnny curious glances and provocative smiles when their companions were not looking. "movie queens," cliff lowell explained in an undertone, "coming and going. some of them dreaming of coronation, others about ready for the axe. it has taken them just about ten seconds to register interest in the strange male person who must be somebody or he would not be here in high boots and flannel shirt." johnny flushed. "you saw the clothes i had on, and you brought me here," he retorted. "the joke's on you." "no less than seven have given me the high sign to bring you over and introduce you," cliff lowell went on imperturbably. "they are frantically searching their memories at the present moment, trying to place you. they are positive that you are some star whom they have not met, and they are trying to remember what picture they ought to mention when the introduction has been successfully accomplished." he paused long enough to murmur an order to a hovering waiter whose english was almost unintelligible to johnny because of its french. "should the crisis have to be met suddenly, do you wish to dodge the publicity that would follow if i told just who you are? there are certain incidents which you do not care to have recalled. i made sure of that at the hotel, you remember." "i don't want to know anybody. i came here to eat. if i can't do that without being introduced to a lot of folks, i'll beat it and find some lunch counter that will feed me without trying to make a boob outa me. i ain't dressed to meet company, anyway. and i don't want anything from this bunch except to be left alone." "fair enough," cliff sighed contentedly and leaned back at his ease. "you're wiser than you realize. knowing this bunch wouldn't get you anywhere, except at the bottom of your pile, maybe. what you want is to steer clear of everything that will interfere with what you're after. here come the eats--you'll know presently why i brought you here." waiters came, brought strange preparations of food which were a revelation to johnny, to whom meat had meant just meat, boiled, roasted or fried, to whom salad meant two or three kinds of vegetables hashed together and served sour. girls' glances were wasted upon him while he tasted dubiously, succumbed to each new and delicious viand, and explored farther, secretly eager for more wonders. "i know now why you brought me here," he sighed contentedly after the coffee was served. "it wasn't to see the girls, either. grub's got possibilities i never dreamed about." lowell smiled, sent a negligent nod toward a group that had just come in and recognized him, and tendered johnny his tooled leather cigarette case. "i never talk business until after i am fed," he observed. "but now--since you have nothing definite in view except the making of money, suppose you listen to a little proposition i am going to make you. it's rather confidential, however--" "my ears are open," said johnny, "and my mouth is shut. i don't have to like your proposition, but in case i don't i can forget things mighty easy." "good. i'll make it short, and you can take it or leave it. i am not a reporter; not the kind of reporter you mean. i gather special stuff for a big news syndicate. big stuff, stuff the little fellows never dream of going after. i get, of course, big returns. "my real object in seeing you to-night was not exactly the getting of a news item for any paper. i saw your name on the register, found that you had flown over here, and wanted to see you and take your measure for the job i have in mind. "briefly, the proposition is this: i need a flyer who can fly, knows a little of the desert, has got some nerve on the ground as well as in the air, and who can keep his mouth shut. it's harder than you may think to find one who measures up, and who is willing to avoid the limelight. they all want publicity, and publicity is what this job must shun. what i am working on now is big stuff across the border. i can get the news, all right--i am in touch with some of the big men over there--but the deuce of it is the going back and forth. this embargo business that has been framed lately is interfering with my work. i could get a passport, yes. perfectly simple. i could go across, and i could get the news i want. but the bother of it, and the delay here and there is--well, it's a big handicap. you can see that easily. "my idea, therefore, and i think it's a good one, is to hire you to take me over and back. it might take all your time and it might not--but i should want to have you on call, ready to go anywhere, any time, at a moment's notice. it would make a tremendous difference in the time-saving alone. you would have to--what about your mechanic?" "what about him? i don't just get you." johnny looked at him startled. lowell sat leaning one elbow lightly on the table, his slim, manicured fingers tapping silently the rhythm of some tune which he was subconsciously following. it was the only sign of nervousness he displayed, save a frequent swift scanning of faces in the room. any diner there who observed him would have said that cliff was retailing some current scandal which concerned an acquaintance. any diner would have said that the good-looking boy in flyer's togs was listening with mental reservations, ready to argue a point, but nevertheless eager to hear the whole story. "i mean, what about the mechanic? have you any contract with him, or are you tied up with him in any way? can you get rid of him, in other words?" johnny studied his little cup of coffee, his subconscious mind registering the incongruity of such a skimpy amount of coffee after such an amazingly ample meal. consciously he was having a hurried, whispered conversation with his native honesty. "well--i ain't married to bland," he stated judicially, meeting candidly the other's intent stare. "i never made any contract with him. he agreed to do certain things for me if i'd bring him here--and i brought him. on top of that, he talked about our doing certain things when we got here--it was exhibition flying and taking up joyriders--and i kinda fell in with the idea. i never said, right out in so many words, that i'd do it. i just kinda let it ride along the way he said. he sure expects me to go ahead, but--" lowell exhaled a mouthful of smoke and sipped his coffee as though he was relieved of some doubt. "that's all right, then. you are free to change your mind. and you're lucky that you have something to change to, if i may say what i think. there's nothing in that sort of thing any more. it would scarcely pay for the wear and tear on your machine, i imagine. you certainly could not pull down any real money doing that little stuff. now let's see--" he smoked and studied some mental question until johnny grew restive and finished the demitasse at a gulp. "let's see. suppose we say a thousand dollars a week for you and your machine. it will be worth that to me if you make good and take me across where i want to go, whenever i want to go, and fetch me back without bringing all the border patrols buzzing around, asking why and how. that, frankly, is one point that must be taken care of. it is no crime to cross the border without a passport--if you can get across. technically it is unlawful at the present time, but in reality it is all right, if you can get away with it. we could not walk up boldly and say, 'listen, we want permission to fly across the line on business of our own.' they'd have to say no. that's their orders, issued to stop a lot of smuggling and that sort of thing. but we are not smugglers--at least," he qualified with a faint smile, "i am not. what i shall bring back will be legitimate news of international importance, gleaned in a legitimate way. in fact it will be of some use to the government, though the government could scarcely authorize me to gather it. "now as to credentials, you will do me a favor if you look me up. as to yourself, i know all about you, thanks to that adventurous spirit which brought you into the limelight and is really of tremendous value to me. seriously now, as a sporting proposition and a chance to make money, how does it strike you?" "why--it looks all right, on the face of it." johnny was trying to be extremely cautious. "i'll have to think it over, though. for one thing, i'll want to do some figuring before i can say whether the price is right. it costs money to keep an airplane in the air, mr. lowell. you'd be surprised to see just how much a fellow has to pay out to keep a motor in good mechanical shape. and, of course, i wouldn't look at it at any price unless i was dead sure it was straight. if you'll excuse my saying so, i ain't after dirty money. it's got to be clean." "that's the stuff! i'm glad to hear you come right out and say so, because that's where i stand. i want you to look me up. here's the card of the international news syndicate--they handle nothing but big political stuff, you understand. a sort of secret service of newspaperdom. ask them about me and about the proposition. they'll be paying you the money--not me. ask any one else you like, only don't mention this particular matter we've been discussing. as the lawyers say, secrecy is the essence of this contract." he laughed and crooked a finger at the waiter who had served them so assiduously, got his dinner check and paid it with a banknote that, even deducting the high cost of eating in a regular place, returned him a handful of change. he tipped the waiter generously and rose. "you'd have to keep under cover as much as possible," he continued planning, when they were again on the street. "how much attention did you attract, mr. jewel, when you landed?" "why, not any. it was about dark, and we lit in a beanfield over beyond inglewood. we left the plane there and came in on a street car. i don't guess anybody saw us at all." "fine! this is playing our way from the start. if any one notices your name on the hotel register and asks you questions, you came after certain parts for your motor--any errand will do--and you expect to leave again at any time. this does not commit you to the proposition, mr. jewel. it is merely keeping our lines straight in case you do accept. i want you to sleep on it--but please don't talk in your sleep!" he laughed, and johnny laughed with him and promised discretion. the last he saw of cliff lowell that night, cliff was talking with a group of important-looking men who treated him as though they had known him for a long, long while. their manifest intimacy struck johnny as a tacit endorsement of cliff's character and reputation. it would seem almost an insult to go around quizzing people about a man so popular with the leading citizens, johnny told himself. he would think the proposition over, certainly. he was not fool enough to jump headfirst into a thing like that at the first crook of a stranger's finger, but-- "good golly! talk about luck! why, at a thousand dollars a week, i can pay old sudden off in a month, doggone him. and have a thousand to the good. and if the job holds out for another month or two--" that, if you please, is how johnny "thought it over and did some figuring!" chapter fifteen one more plunge for johnny the grinding clamor of passing street cars jarring over the spring street crossing woke johnny to what he thought was moonlight, until it occurred to him that the pale glow must come from street lamps. the air was muggy, filled with the odor of damp soot. he sniffed, turned over with the bed covering rolled close around him, snuggled his cheek into a pillow, yawned, rooted deeper, opened his eyes again, and turned on the reading light by his bed. it was five-thirty--red dawn in arizona where his dreaming had borne him swiftly to his old camp at sinkhole. five-thirty would be getting-up time on the range, but in los angeles the hour seemed an ungodly time to crawl out of bed. he reached for his "makings" and rolled a cigarette which he smoked with no more than one arm and his head exposed to the clamminess of the atmosphere. he ought to return to the thunder bird by daylight, he mused, but he did not know how to get there. he needed bland for pilot, but he did not know where to find bland. now that he came to consider finding people and places, it occurred to him that neither did he know where to find cliff lowell. thinking of him made johnny wonder what kind of news gathering it was that could make it worth a thousand dollars a week to a man to have a swift, secret means of locomotion at his command. it had sounded plausible enough last night, but now he was not so sure of it. it might be some graft--it might even be a scheme to rob him of his plane. it would be a good idea to look into matters a little before he went any farther, he decided. when bland showed up, he'd go out and take a look at the thunder bird, and get her in shape to fly. then they'd get to work. but a thousand dollars a week sure did sound good, and if the proposition was on the square-- he snuggled down and began to build an air castle. suppose it was straight, and he went into the deal with lowell; and suppose he worked for two months, say. that would be eight--well, say nine thousand, the way weeks lap over on the calendar. suppose by christmas he had eight thousand dollars clear money. (five hundred a month ought to run the plane, with any kind of luck.) well, what if he took the thunder bird and his eight thousand, and flew back to the rolling r and lit in the yard just about when they were sitting down to their christmas dinner. he'd walk in and lay three thousand dollars down on the table by old sudden, and tell him kind of careless, "i happened to have a little extra cash on hand, so i thought i'd take up that note while i thought of it. no use letting it go on drawing interest." say, maybe sudden's eyes wouldn't stick out! and mary v would kind of catch her breath and open her eyes wide at him, and say, "why, johnny--?" and say--no, jump up and put her arms around his neck and--slide her lips along his cheek and whisper-- an hour and a half later he awoke, saw with dismay that it was seven o'clock, and piled out of bed as guiltily as though an irate round-up boss stood over him. the thunder bird to repair, a big business deal to be accepted or rejected,--whichever his judgment advised and the fates favored,--and he in bed at seven o'clock! he dressed hurriedly, expecting to hear an impatient rapping on the door before he was ready to face a critical business world. if he had time that day, he ought to get himself some clothes. he would not want to eat again in that place where cliff lowell took him, dressed as he was now. he waited an impatient five minutes, went down to the lobby,--after some trouble finding the elevator,--and found himself alone with the onyx pillars and a few porters with brushes and things. a different clerk glanced at him uninterestedly and assured him that no one had called to see mr. jewel that morning. he left word that he would be back in half an hour and went out to find breakfast. luck took him through the side entrance to spring street, where eating places were fairly numerous. he discovered what he wanted, ate as fast as he could swallow without choking on his ham and eggs or scalding his throat with the coffee, and returned to the hotel. no, there had been no call for mr. jewel. johnny bought a morning paper, but could find no mention of his arrival in los angeles. cliff lowell, he decided, must be playing the secrecy to the limit. it did not please him overmuch, in spite of his revilings of the press that had made a joke of his troubles. couldn't they do anything but go to extremes, for gosh sake? here he had made a record night,--he had distinctly told that clerk the time he had made it in,--and cliff lowell knew, too. yet the paper was absolutely dumb. they ignored everything he did that was worth notice, and yawped his private affairs all over their front pages. that man lowell was taking too much on himself. johnny hadn't agreed to take the job yet; he very much doubted whether he would take it at all. he would rather be his own boss and fly when he pleased and where he pleased. this flying over into mexico and back looked pretty fishy, come to think of it. if it was against the law, how did lowell expect to get away with it? if it wasn't, why be so darned secret about it? for three quarters of an hour, perhaps longer, johnny dismissed the thousand-dollar-a-week job from his mind and waited with rising indignation for bland. what had become of the darned little runt? here it was nine o'clock, and no sign of him. the lobby was beginning to wear an atmosphere of sedate bustling to and fro. johnny watched travelers arrive with their luggage, watched other travelers depart. business men strayed in, seeking acquaintances. the droning chant of pages in tight jackets and little caps perched jauntily askew interested him. would bland, when he came, have sense enough to send one around calling out "mr. jew-wel--mr. john-ny jew-wel"? johnny knew exactly how it would sound. cliff lowell might, but he did not want to see cliff. the more he thought about him the more he distrusted that proposition. a thousand dollars a week did not sound convincing in the broad light of day. it was altogether too good to be true. why, good golly! nobody but a millionaire could afford to pay that much just for riding around; and if they could, they'd buy themselves an airplane. they wouldn't rent one, that was certain. at ten o'clock johnny mentally blew up. he had not come to los angeles to sit around in any doggone hotel like an old woman waiting for a train, and if bland or anybody else thought he'd hang around there all day-- he went to the desk, left word that he had gone out to inglewood, watched the clerk scribble the information on a slip of paper and put it in his key box, and went out wondering how he was going to find his way to the thunder bird. but his natural initiative came to his aid. he saw an automobile with a for hire sign on it, held brief conversation with the driver, and was presently leaning back on the cushions watching luckless pedestrians dodge out of the way. the sight, i may add, restored his good humor to the point of forgetting his dignity and crawling over into the front seat where he proceeded to scrape acquaintance with the driver. los angeles was a great place, all right--when you can see it from the front seat of an automobile. johnny began to talk automobiles to the man and managed to extract a good deal of information, that may or may not have been authentic, concerning the various "makes" and their prices and speed. not that he intended to buy one; but still, with good luck, there was no reason why he should not, when he had that note paid. a car certainly did give class to a man--and according to this fellow it would be a real economy to own one. this man said he looked upon a car as a necessity; and johnny very quickly adopted his point of view and began to think how extravagant he was not to own one. why, take this trip, for instance. if he owned the car himself, all it would cost him to go to inglewood would be the gas he would burn. as it was, it would probably mean ten or fifteen dollars before he was through. an automobile of your own sure did mean a big saving all around--time and money. take a job like this man lowell had offered, why, he could very soon own a car. a thousand dollars a week, for a few weeks--it was his to take, if he wanted to do it-- there he went again, playing with the thought until they slid through inglewood and out on the boulevard that curved flirtatiously close to a railroad track, where he had tramped with bland--good golly! was that only last night? tired and hungry and blue, with a broken plane to think of and mary v and the rolling r to forget--last night. and here he was, debating with himself the wisdom of accepting an offer of a thousand dollars a week, thinking seriously of buying himself an automobile! was it two miles to where they had turned out of the bean field on to the highway? it certainly didn't seem that far today. except for the curves which he remembered he would have thought the driver had made a mistake when he slowed and swung short into a rough trail that crossed the railroad. but there was the thunder bird sitting disconsolately with a broken nose and lord knew what other disabilities, in the bean field where he had left her. he felt as though he had been away for a month. with a pencil and paper he was carefully setting down what slight repairs he would need to make, when a big, dark red roadster swung off the boulevard and came chuckling toward them down the rough trail. cliff lowell was driving, and he greeted johnny with a careless assurance of their unity of interest that would make it difficult for johnny to hold off, if holding off proved to be his ultimate intention. cliff climbed out and came up to the thunder bird, standing with his feet slightly apart, pulling off his driving gloves that he might light a cigarette. "they told me at the hotel you were out here, so i came on. better send that car back to town," he suggested frugally. "i'll take you in. no use wasting money on car hire when you don't have to. i want to talk to you, anyway." johnny hesitated, then paid his driver and let him go. "i've got to go around to a supply house and get me a new propeller," he said afterwards. "and a control wire snapped. we made a bum landing last night--or my mechanic did. he claimed he knew this field, so i let him go ahead." "where is he? did you let him out?" "i didn't, but i will if he don't show up; pronto." johnny's tone was the tone of accustomed authority. "he failed to report, this morning." cliff reached into an inner pocket and drew out a flat package, which he proceeded to open, using a wing for a table. "i've been busy this morning," he announced, laying his cigarette down on the wing. johnny promptly swept the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his heel. wing coverings are rather inflammable, and he was not taking any chances. "pardon the carelessness. i don't know much about airplanes, old man. well, i went to the boss and had a talk with him, after i left you last night. i put the proposition up to him, and he is rather keen on it. he sees the value of getting news by airplane. the saving of time and the avoidance of publicity will double its value--to say nothing of the chance that we may be able to pick up something of immense importance to the government. mexican situation, you know--all that sort of thing. "so he put me in touch with parties that could furnish this." _this_ was a large photographic bird's-eye map of a country which looked very much like arizona, or the wild places anywhere next the mexican borderline. "where i got it i am not at liberty to say. it's a practice map--done for the training in aerial photography that is essential nowadays in warfare. the government is going in rather strong on that sort of thing. this is authentic. take a good look at it through this glass and tell me what you think of it. can you see any place that would make a possible secret landing for an airplane, for instance?" "golly!" johnny whispered, as cliff's meaning flashed clean-cut through the last sentence. he studied the photograph with pursed lips, his left eye squinted that his right eye might peer through a small reading glass. "it would depend on the ground," he answered after a minute. "i'd want to fly over it before i could tell exactly. if it was soft sandy for instance--" (bland would have snickered at that, knowing what reason johnny had for realizing the disadvantages of soft sand as a landing place.) "but the topography looks very practicable for the purpose." (nothing like talking up to your audience. johnny was proud of that sentence.) "all right. we'll lay that aside for further investigation. i'm glad you have the plane out here away from every one. we'll take a run over to that locality in my car--it's open season for ducks, and there's that lake you see on the map. a couple of shotguns and our hunting licenses will be all the alibi we'll need. you must know how to get about in the open country, living in arizona as you have, and i'm counting a good deal on that. that's one reason why i made you the offer, instead of these flyers around here--and by the way, that's one point that made you look like a safe bet to the old man. "i was talking to him about salary, and he's willing to go stronger than i said, if you make good. he said it would be worth about two hundred a day, which is considerably better than the thousand a week that i named." cliff knew when to stop and let the bait dangle. he fussed with a fresh cigarette, paying no apparent attention to johnny, which gave that young man an idea that he was wholly unobserved while he dizzily made a mental calculation. fourteen hundred a week--go-od golly! in a month--or would it last for a month? "how long a job is this?" he demanded so suddenly that the words were out before he knew he was going to ask the question. "how long? well--that's hard to say. until you fail to put me across the line safely, i suppose. there's always something doing or going to be done in mexico, old man--and it's always worth reporting to the syndicate. how long will people go on reading their morning paper at breakfast?" he smiled the tolerant, bored smile that johnny associated with his first sight of cliff. "i should say the job will last as long as you make good." "well, that puts it up to me, then. i'd want an agreement that i'd be paid a week in advance all the time. that's to cover the risk of costly breakage and things like that. at the end of every week i'd be free to quit or go on, and you'd be free to let me out if i didn't suit. with that understanding i'll try her out--for a week, starting to-morrow morning." he added, by way of clinching the matter, "and that goes." cliff lowell blew a thin wreath of smoke and smiled again. "it goes, far as i am concerned. i think the old man will agree to it, providing you take oath you'll keep the whole thing secret. i haven't preached that to you, but the whole scheme blows up the minute it is made public. you understand that, of course, and i'm not afraid of you; but the old man may want some assurance. if he does, you can give it, and if he does not, it will be because he is taking my word that you are all right. "now let's get down to business. how long will it take you to get the machine in shape? and can't you make arrangements with the owner of this field to leave it here for the present--and perhaps get him to keep an eye on it? wait. you leave him to me. i think he's a jap, and i know japs pretty well. i'll go hunt him up and talk to him. if we can run it under cover for a couple of days, all the better." he climbed into his car and went off down the road to where the roofs of several buildings showed just above a ridge. his talk must have been well lubricated with something substantial in the way of legal tender, for presently he returned, and behind him a team came down the road hauling a flat hayrack on which four japs sat and dangled their legs to the jolting of the wagon. "he's a good scout, and he will keep the plane under cover for us," cliff announced in a satisfied tone. "they're going to load it on the wagon and haul it home, where there's a shed i think will hold it. if it won't, we'll buy it and knock out an end or something." the four japs, chinning unintelligibly and smiling a good deal, loaded the thunder bird to johnny's satisfaction, hauled it to the buildings over the ridge, and after they had knocked all the boards off one side to admit the wings, ran it under a shed. afterwards they nailed all the boards on again while johnny stood around and watched them uneasily, secretly depressed because his thunder bird was being penned in by gibbering brown men who might be unwilling to return it to him on demand. for good or ill, he was committed now to cliff lowell's project. even though he was committed for only a week, qualms of doubt assailed him at intervals during their roaring progress to the city. cliff drove with an effortless skill which filled johnny with envy. some day--well, a car like this wouldn't be so bad. and if the job held out long enough-- why, good golly, think of it! and mary v thought he couldn't make any money with his airplane. wanted him to go to work for her dad--think of that! thinking of it; he tried to silence the qualms. tried to reassure himself with cliff's very evident sincerity, his easy assurance that all would be well. johnny had been canny enough to make the agreement by the week--surely nothing much could go wrong in that little while, and if he didn't like the look of things after a week's try-out, he could quit, and that would be all there would be of it. it was too good a chance to let slip by without a trial, anyway. a man would be a fool to do that; and johnny, whatever he thought of himself, did not consider himself a fool. chapter sixteen with his hands full of money and his eyes shut under cliff's direction, that afternoon johnny did what a woman would call shopping. he bought among other things a suit of khaki such as city dwellers wear when they go into the wilds. cliff had told him that he must not appear among people in the clothes of a flyer, but must be a duck hunter and none other when they left los angeles. when that would be, johnny did not know; nor did he know where they were going. but a duck hunter he faithfully tried to resemble when he let cliff into his room at five o'clock in the evening, which meant after the lights were on in the quiet hallways of the alexandria, and the streets were all aglow. cliff looked, if not like a hunter, at least picturesque in high, laced boots and olive-drab trousers and coat that had a military cut. "fine! we'll get under way and eat somewhere along the road, if you don't mind. what about that mechanic? has he shown up yet?" cliff's boredom was gone, along with his swagger stick. "naw. i guess the little runt went on a spree. i thought he'd be here when i got back, but he wasn't, and the clerk said nobody had called for me except you." "all the better. you won't have to bother explaining to him without telling him anything. if you ever do run across him, give him a temperance talk--and the boot. that will be convincing, without your needing to furnish any other reason for letting him out. by the way,"--reaching casually into a pocket,--"here is your first week's salary. the boss made it fifteen hundred a week, straight. and he said to tell you he would add a hundred every week that you deliver the goods. that is giving a tremendously square deal, in my opinion. but it's the boss's way, to make it worth a man's while to do his level best." round-eyed, johnny took the roll of bank notes and flipped the ends with eager fingers. golly! one with five hundred on it--he had never seen a five-hundred-dollar bill in his life, until this one. and fifties--six or seven of them, and four one-hundreds, and the rest in twenties and three or four tens for easy spending. he had a keen desire to show that roll to mary v, and ask her whether he could make money flying, or whether she would still advise him to go to work for her dad! why, right there in his hand was more money than sudden thought he was worth in a year, and this was just one week's salary! why, good gosh! in another week he could pay that note, and start right in getting rich. why, in a month he could own a car like cliff's. why-- cliff, watching him with sophisticated understanding of the dazzling effect of so much money upon a youth who had probably never before seen fifteen hundred dollars in one lump, smiled to himself. whatever small voice of doubt johnny had hearkened to, the voice would now be hushed under the soft whisper of the money fluttering in johnny's fingers. "well, i'll call a porter to get these things down so you can settle for the room. you had better just check out without leaving any word of where you're going." cliff turned to the 'phone. "that'll be easy, seeing i don't know," johnny retorted, crowding the money into his old wallet that bulged like the cheeks of a pocket gopher, busy enlarging his house. "fine," cliff flung sardonically over his shoulder. he called for a porter to remove the luggage from room six-seventy-eight, and laid his fingers around the door knob. "i'll be down at the s.p. depot waiting for you, jewel. there's a train in half an hour going north, so it will be plausible enough for you to take a taxi to the depot. go inside, just as though you were leaving, see. and when the passengers come off the train, you join the crowd with your gun case and grip, and come on out to where i'll he waiting. can you do that?" "i guess i can, unless somebody runs over me on the way." "then i'll be going. the point is, we must not leave here together--even on a duck hunt!" he smiled and departed, at least three minutes before the porter tapped for admission. there was no hitch, although there was a margin of safety narrow enough to set johnny's blood tingling. he had "checked out" and had called his taxi and watched the porter load in gun case and grip, had tipped him lavishly and had slipped a dollar into the willing palm of the doorman, when he leaned in to get the address to give the driver. and then, just as the taxi was moving on, over the doorman's shoulder johnny distinctly saw bland turn in between the rubber plants that guarded the doorway. a pasty-faced, dull-eyed bland, cheaply resplendent in new tan shoes, a new suit of that pronounced blue loved by mexican dandies, a new red-and-blue striped tie, and a new soft hat of bottle-green velour. for ten seconds johnny was scared, which was a new sensation. for longer than that he had a guilty consciousness of having "double-crossed" a partner. he had a wild impulse to stop the taxi and sprint back to the hotel after bland, and give him fifty dollars or so as a salve to his conscience, even though he could not take him into this new enterprise or even tell him what it was. uncomfortably his memory visioned that other day (was it only yesterday morning? it seemed impossible!) when he had wandered forlornly out to the hangar in tucson and had found bland true to his trust when he might so easily have been false; when everything would seem to encourage him to be false. how much, after all, did johnny owe to bland halliday? just then he seemed to owe bland everything. it was all well enough for him to argue that his debt to bland had been paid when he brought him to los angeles, and that bland could have no just complaint if johnny declined to continue the partnership longer. bland, he told himself, would have quit him cold any time some other chance looked better. it was johnny's plane, and johnny had a right to do as he pleased with it. for all that, johnny rode to the s.p. depot feeling like a criminal trying to escape. he took his luggage and sneaked into the waiting room, sought an inconspicuous place and waited, his whole head and shoulders hidden behind a newspaper which he was not reading. cliff lowell could have found nothing to criticize in johnny's manner of screening his presence there; though he would probably have been surprised at johnny's reason for doing so. johnny himself was surprised, bewildered even. that he, who had lorded over bland with such patronizing contempt, should actually be afraid of meeting the little runt! a stream of hurrying people, distinguished from others by their seeking glances and haste and luggage, warned him presently that he would be expected outside. he picked up his belongings and joined the procession, but he came very near missing cliff altogether. he was looking for the dark-red roadster that had eaten up distance so greedily between inglewood and the city, and he did not see it. he was standing dismayed, a slim, perturbed young fellow in khaki, with a grip in one hand and a canvas gun case in the other, when some one touched him on the arm. he needed the second glance to tell him it was cliff, and even then it was the smooth, bored voice that convinced him. cliff wore a motor coat that covered him from chin to heels, a leather cap pulled down over his ears, and driving goggles as concealing as a mask. he led the way to a touring car that looked like any other touring car--except to a man who could know the meaning of that high, long, ventilated hood and the heavy axles and wheels, and the general air of power and endurance, that marked it a thoroughbred among cars. the tonneau, johnny saw as he climbed in, was packed tight with what looked like a camp outfit. his own baggage was crowded in somehow, and the side curtains, buttoned down tight, hid the load from passers-by. cliff pulled his coat close around his legs, climbed in, set his heel on the starter. a pulsing beat, smooth, hushed, and powerful, answered. cliff pulled the gear lever, eased in the clutch, and they slid quietly away down the street for two blocks, swung to the left and began to pick up speed through the thinning business district that dwindled presently to suburban small dwellings. "put on that coat and the goggles, old man," cliff directed, his eyes on the lookback mirror, searching the highway behind them. "we've got an all-night drive, and it will be cold later on, so the coat will serve two purposes. it's hard to identify a man in a passing automobile if he's wearing a motor coat and goggles. you couldn't swear to your twin brother going by." "this is a bear of a car," johnny glowed, all atingle now with the adventure and its flavor of mystery. "i didn't know you had two. i was looking for the red one." "i forgot to tell you." which johnny felt was a lie, because cliff lowell did not strike him as the kind of man who forgot things. "yes, i keep two. this is good for long trips when i want to take luggage--and so on." his tone did not invite further conversation. he seemed absorbed now in his driving; and his driving, johnny decided, was enough to absorb any man. yard by yard he was sending the big-nosed car faster ahead, until the pointer on the speedometer seemed to want to rest on . still, they did not seem to be going so very fast, except that they overhauled and passed everything else on the road, and not once did a car overhaul and pass them. cliff glanced often into the mirror, watching the road behind them for the single speeding light of a motor cop--because los angeles county, as you are probably aware, does not favor thirty-five miles an hour for automobiles, but has fixed upon twenty-five as a safe and sane speed at which the general public may travel. but cliff was wary, chance favored them with fairly clear roads, and the miles slid swiftly behind. they ate at san juan capistrano not much past the hour which johnny had all his life thought of as supper time. cliff filled the gas tank, gave the motor a pint of oil and the radiator about a quart of water, turned up a few grease cups and applied the nose of the oil can here and there to certain bearings. he did it all with the fastidious air of a prince democratically inclined to look after things himself, the air which permeated his whole personality and made johnny continue calling him mr. lowell, in spite of a life-long habit of applying nicknames even to chance acquaintances. cliff climbed in and settled himself. "we want to make it in time to get some hunting at daylight," he observed in a tone which included the fellow at the service station who was just pocketing his money for the gas and oil. "i think we can, with luck." luck seemed to mean speed and more speed, the headlights bored a white pathway through the dark, and down that pathway the car hummed at a fifty-mile clip where the road was straight. johnny got thrills of which his hardy nerves had never dreamed themselves capable. riding the sky in the thunder bird was tame to the point of boredom, compared with riding up and over and down and around a squirmy black line with the pound of the pacific in his ears and the steady beat of the motor blending somehow with it, and the tingle of uncertainty as to whether they would make the next sharp curve on two wheels as successfully as they had made the last. mercifully, they met no one on the hills. there were straight level stretches just beyond reach of the tide, and sometimes two eyes would glare at them, growing bigger and bigger. there would be a _swoo--sh_ as a dark object shot by with mere inches to spare, and the eyes would glare no longer. by golly, johnny would have a car or know the reason why! he'd bet he could drive one as well as cliff lowell too, once he had the feel of the thing. "too fast for you?" cliff asked once, and johnny felt the little tolerant smile he could not see. "too fast? say, i'm used to _flying_!" johnny shouted back, ready to die rather than own the tingling of his scalp for fear. he expected cliff to let her out still more, after that tacit dare, but cliff did not for two reasons: he was already going as fast as he could and keep the road, and he was convinced that johnny jewel had hardened every nerve in his system with skyriding. oceanside was but a sprinkle of lights and a blur of houses when they slipped through at slackened speed, lest their passing be noted curiously and remembered too well. on again, over the upland and down once more to the very sand where the waves rocked and boomed under the stars. up and around and over and down--johnny wondered how much farther they would hurl themselves through the night. straight out along a narrow streak of asphalt toward lights twinkling on a blur of hillside. up and around with a skidding turn to the right, and del mar was behind them. down and around and along another straight line next the sands, and up a steep grade whose windings slowed even this brute of a car to a saner pace. "this is torrey pine grade," cliff informed him. "it isn't much farther to the next stop. i've been making time, because from san diego on we have rougher going. this is not the most direct route we could have taken, but it's the best, seeing i have to stop in san diego and complete certain arrangements. and then, too, it is not always wise to take a direct route to one's destination. not--always." he slowed for a rickety bridge and added negligently, "we've made pretty fair time." "i'd say we have. you've been doing fifty part of the time." "and part of the time i haven't. from here on it's rough." from there on it was that, and more. there had been a rain storm which the asphalt had long forgotten but the dirt road recorded with ruts and chuck-holes half filled with mud. the big car weathered it without breaking a spring, and before the tiredest laborer of san diego had yawned and declared it was bedtime, they chuckled sedately into san diego and stopped on a side street where a dingy garage stood open to the greasy sidewalk. cliff turned in there and whistled. a lean figure in grease-blackened coveralls came out of the shadows, and cliff climbed down. "i want to use your 'phone a minute. go over the car, will you, until i come back. where can i spot her--out of the way?" the man waved a hand toward a space at the far end, and cliff returned to his seat and dexterously placed the car, nose to the wall. "you may as well stay right here. i'll not be gone long. you might curl down and take a nap." it was not an order, but johnny felt that he was expected to keep himself out of sight, and the suggestion to nap appealed to him. he found a robe and covered himself, and went to sleep with the readiness of a cat curled behind a warm stove. he did not know how long it was before cliff woke him by pulling upon the car door. he did not remember that the garage man had fussed much with the car, though he might have done it so quietly that johnny would not hear him. the man was standing just outside the door, and presently he signalled to cliff, and cliff backed out into the empty street. he nodded to the man and drove on to the corner, turned and went a block, and turned again. the streets seemed very quiet, so johnny supposed that it was late, though the clock set in the instrument board was not running. they went on, out of the town and into a road that wound up long hills and down to the foot of others which it straightway climbed. cliff did not drive so fast now, though their speed was steady. twice he stopped to walk over to some house near the road and have speech with the owner. he was inquiring the way, he explained to johnny, who did not believe him; cliff drove with too much certainty, seemed too familiar with certain unexpected twists in the road, to be a stranger upon it, johnny thought. but he did not say anything--it was none of his business. cliff was running this part of the show, and johnny was merely a passenger. his job was flying, when the time came to fly. after a while he slid farther down into the seat and slept. chapter seventeen "my job's flying" the stopping of the motor wakened him finally, and he sat up, stretching his arms and yawning prodigiously. his legs were cramped, his neck was stiff, he was conscious of great emptiness. by the stars he knew that it was well toward morning. hills bulked in the distance, with dark blobs here and there which daylight later identified as live oaks. cliff was climbing out, and at the sound of johnny's yawn he turned. "we'll camp here, i think. there's no road from here on, and i rather want daylight. perhaps then we will decide not to go on. how would a cup of coffee suit you? i can get out enough plunder for a meal." "i can sure do the rest," johnny cheerfully declared. "cook it and eat it too. where's there any water?" "there's a creek over here a few yards. i'll get a bucket." with his trouble-light suspended from the top of the car, cliff moved a roll of blankets and a bag that had jolted out of place. in a moment he had all the necessary implements of an emergency camp, and was pulling out cans and boxes of supplies that opened johnny's eyes. evidently cliff had come prepared to camp for some time. over coffee and bacon and bread johnny learned some things he had wanted to know. they were in the heart of the country which cliff had shown him on the relief map, miles from the beaten trail of tourists, but within fifteen miles of the border. "there's a cabin somewhere near here that we can use for headquarters," cliff further explained. "and to-day a mexican will come and take charge of camp and look after our interests while we are over the line. i have ordered a quantity of gas that will be brought here and stored in a safe place, and there is a shelter for the plane. i merely want you to look over the ground, make sure of the landing possibilities, and fix certain landmarks in your mind so that you can drop down here without making any mistake as to the spot. when that is done we will return and bring your airplane over. it is only about a hundred and forty miles from los angeles, air line. you can make that easily enough, i suppose?" "i don't see why not. a hundred and forty miles ain't far, when you're lined out and flying straight for where you're going." "no. well, one step at a time. we'll just repack this, so that we can move on to the cabin as soon as it's light enough. i don't think it can be far." daylight came and showed them that the cabin was no more than a long pistol shot away. johnny looked at cliff queerly. city man he might be--city man he certainly looked and acted and talked, but he did not appear to rely altogether upon signposts and street-corner labels to show him his way about. just who and what was the fellow, anyway? something more than a high-class newspaper man, johnny suspected. that cabin, for instance, might have been built and the surroundings ordered to suit their purpose. it was a commonplace cabin, set against a hill rock-hewn and rugged, with a queer, double-pointed top like twin steeples tumbled by an earthquake; or like two "sheep herders' monuments" built painstakingly by giants. the lower slope of the hill was grassy, with scattered live oaks and here and there a huge bowlder. it was one of these live oaks, the biggest of them all, with wide-spreading branches drooping almost to the ground, that cliff pointed out as an excellent concealment for an airplane. "run it under there, and who would ever suspect? mateo is there already with his woman and the kiddies. has it ever occurred to you, old man, how thoroughly disarming a woman and kiddies are in any enterprise that requires secrecy?" "can't say it has. it has occurred to me that kids are the limit for blabbing things. and women--" "not these," cliff smiled serenely. "these are trained kiddies. they do their blabbing at home, you'll find. they're better than dogs, to give warning of strangers prowling about." he must have meant during the day they were better than dogs. they drove up to the cabin, swung around the end and turned under a live oak whose branches scraped the car's top, while four dogs circled the machine, barking and growling. still no kiddies appeared, but their father came out of a back door and drove the dogs back. he was low-browed, swart and silent, with a heavy black mustache and a mop of hair to match. cliff left the car and walked away with him, speaking in an undertone what johnny knew to be spanish. the low-browed one interpolated an occasional "si, si, senor!" and gesticulated much. "all right, johnny, this is mateo, who will look after us at this end--providing there's nothing to hinder our using this as headquarters. how about that flat, out in front? is it big enough for a flying field, do you think? you might walk over it and take a look." stiffly, johnny climbed down and walked obediently out across the open flat. it was fairly smooth, though mateo's kids might well be set gathering rocks. the hills encircled it, green where the rocks were not piled too ruggedly. he inspected the great oak which cliff had pointed out as a hiding place for the plane. truly it was a wonder of an oak tree. its trunk was gnarled and big as a hogshead, and it leaned away from the steep slope behind it so that its southern branches almost touched the ground. these stretched farther than johnny had dreamed a tree could stretch its branches, and screened completely the wide space beneath. it was like a great tent, with the back wall lifted; since here the branches inclined upward, scraping the hillside with their tips. the thunder bird could be wheeled around behind and under easily enough, and never seen from the front and sides. it was so obviously perfect that johnny wondered why cliff should bother to consult him about it. he wondered, too, how cliff had found the place, how he had completed so quickly his plans to use it for the purpose. it looked almost as though cliff had expected him and had made ready for him though that could not be so, since not even johnny himself had known that he was coming to the coast so soon. but to have the place all ready, with a man to take charge and all in a few hours, was an amazing accomplishment that filled johnny with awe. cliff lowell must be a wizard at news-gathering if his talents were to be measured by this particular achievement. "well, do you think it will serve?" catlike, cliff had come up behind him. "sure it will serve. if you can think up some way to hide the track of the plane when it lands, it wouldn't be found here in a thousand years. but of course the marks will show--" "just what kind of marks?" "well, the wheels themselves don't leave much of a track, and the wind fills them quick, anyway. but the drag digs in. if you've ever been around a flying field you've noticed what looks like wheel-barrow tracks all over, haven't you? that's something you can't get away from, wherever you land. though of course some soil holds the mark worse than others." "that will be attended to. now i'll show you just where this spot is on the map." he produced the folded map and opened it, kneeling on the ground to spread it flat. "you see those twin peaks up there? they are just here. this is the valley, and right here is the cabin. you might take this map and study it well. you will have to fly high, to avoid observation, and land with as little manoeuvering as possible. for ten or fifteen miles around here there is nothing but wilderness, fortunately. the land is held in an immense tract--and i happen to know the owners so that it will be only chance observers we need to fear. you will need to choose your landing so that you can come down right here, close to the oak, and be able to get the machine under cover at once. i'll mark the spot--just here, you see. "now, i shall have mateo bring the blankets here under the tree. i feel the need of a little sleep, myself. how about you? we start back at dark, by the way." "how about that duck hunting?" "ducks? oh, mateo will hunt the ducks!" cliff permitted himself a superior smile. "we shall have sufficient outlet for any surplus energy without going duck hunting. you had better turn in when i do." "no, i slept enough to do me, at a pinch. if mateo can get a horse, i want to ride up on this pinnacle and take a look-see over the country. i can get the lay of things a whole lot better than goggling a month at your doggone maps." cliff took a minute to think it over and gave a qualified consent. "don't go far, and don't talk to any one you may meet--though there is no great chance of meeting any one. i suppose," he added grudgingly, "it will be a good idea for you to get the lay of the country in your mind. though the map can give you all you need to know, i should think." on a scrawny little sorrel that mateo brought up from some hidden pasture where the feed was apparently short, johnny departed, aware of mateo's curious, half-suspicious stare. he had a full canteen from the car and a few ragged slices of bread wrapped in paper with a little boiled ham. in spite of the fact that he had lately forsworn so tame a thing as riding, he was glad to be on a horse once more, though be wished it was a better animal. he climbed the hill, zigzagging back and forth to make easier work for the pony, until he was high above the live-oak belt and coming into shale rock and rubble that made hard going for the horse. he dismounted, led the pony to a shelving, rock-made shade, and tied him there. then, with canteen and food slung over his shoulder, johnny climbed to the peak and sat down puffing on the shady side of one of the twin columns. seen close, they were huge, steeple-like outcroppings of rock, with soil-filled crevices that gave foothold for bushes. in all the country around johnny could see no other hilltop that in the least resembled this, so it did not seem to him likely that he would ever miss his way when he travelled the air lanes. for awhile he sat gazing out over the country, which seemed a succession of green valleys, hidden from one another by high hills or wooded ridges. mexico lay before him, across the valley and a hill or two--fifteen miles, cliff lowell had told him. it would be extremely simple to fly straight toward this particular hill, circle, and land down there in front of the oak. cliff had spoken of risk, bat johnny could not see much risk here. it must be across the line, he thought. still, cliff had said he had friends there, which did not sound like danger. they had considered it worth fifteen hundred a week, though, to fly across these fifteen miles into mexico and back again. johnny shook his head slowly, gave up the puzzle, and took out his wallet to count the money again. half an hour he spent, fingering those bank notes, gloating over them, wondering what mary v would say if she knew he had them, wishing he had another fifteen hundred, so he could pay old sudden and be done with it. an unpleasant thought came to him and nagged at him, though he tried to push it from him; the thought that it would be sudden's security that he would be risking--that the thunder bird was not really his until he had paid that note. the thought troubled him. he got up and moved restlessly along the base of the towering rock, when something whined past his ear and spatted against a bowlder beyond. johnny did not think; he acted instinctively, dropping as though he had been shot and lying there until he had time to plan his next move. he had not been raised in gun smoke, but nevertheless he knew a bullet when he heard it, and he did not think himself conceited when he believed this particular bullet had been presented to him. why? on his stomach he inched down out of range unless the shooter moved his position, and then, impelled by a keen desire to know for sure, he adopted the old, old trick of sending his hat scouting for him. a dead bush near by furnished the necessary stick, and the steep slope gave him shelter while he tested the real purpose of the man who had shot. it might be just a hunter, of course--only this was a poor place for hunting anything but one inoffensive young flyer who meant harm to no one. he put his hat on the stick, pushed the stick slowly up past a rock, and tried to make the hat act as though its owner was crawling laboriously to some fancied shelter. for a minute or two the hat crawled unmolested. then, _pang-g_ came another bullet and bored a neat, brown-rimmed hole through the uphill side of the hat, and tore a ragged hole on its way out through the downhill side. johnny let the hat slide down to him, looked at the holes with widening eyes, said "good gosh!" just under his breath, and hitched himself farther down the slope. his curiosity was satisfied; he had seen all of the country he needed to see and there was nothing to stay for, anyway. when he reached. the patient sorrel pony a minute or two later (it had taken him half an hour or more to climb from the pony to the peak, but climbing, of course, is much slower than coming down--even without the acceleration of singing rifle bullets) he was perspiring rather freely and puffing a little. for a time he waited there under the shelf of rock. but he heard no sound from above, and in a little while he led the pony down the other way, which brought him to the valley near a small pasture which was evidently the pony's home, judging from the way he kept pulling in that direction. johnny turned the horse in and closed the gate, setting the old saddle astride it with the bridle hanging over the horn. he did not care for further exploration, thank you. what johnny would like to know was, what had he done that he should be shot at? he was down there by cliff lowell's invitation-- straightway he set off angrily, taking long steps to the cabin and the great oak tree beside it. the two dogs and five half-naked mexican children spied him and scattered, the dogs coming at him full tilt, the children scuttling to the cabin. johnny swore at the dogs and they did not bite. he followed the children and they did not stop. so he came presently to the oak and roused cliff, who came promptly to an elbow with a wicked looking automatic pointed straight at johnny's middle. "say, for gosh sake! i been shot at twice already this morning. what's the idea? i never was gunned so much in my life, and i live in arizona, that's supposed to be bad. what's the matter with this darned place?" cliff tucked the gun out of sight under his blanket, yawned, and lay down again. "you caught me asleep, old man. i beg your pardon--but i have learned in mexico that it's best to get the gun first and see who it is after that. did you say something about being shot at?" "i did, but i could say more. here i am down here without any gun but that cussed shotgun, and i didn't have that, even, when i coulda used it handy. and look what i got, up here on the hill!" he removed his hat and poked two fingers through the two holes in the crown. "some movie stuff! what's the idea?" cliff nearly looked startled. he called, "oh, mateo!" and mateo came in haste, bent down, and the two murmured together in mexican. afterwards cliff turned to johnny with his little smile. "it's all right, old man--glad you weren't hurt. it was a mistake, though. you were a stranger, and it was thought, i suppose, that you were spying on this place. while it was a close call for you, it proves that we are being well cared for. better forget it and turn in." he yawned again and turned over so that his back was toward johnny, and that youth took the hint and departed to find blankets to spread for himself. he was tired enough to lie down and sleepy enough to sleep, but he could not blandly forget about those bullets as cliff advised. there were several things he wanted to know before he would feel perfectly satisfied. since the thunder bird was not here, why should strangers be shot at? their only trouble would be with the guards along the boundary, when they tried to cross back from mexico. but they had not tried it yet. the guards were still happily unaware of how they were going to worry later on, so why the shooting? "oh, well, thunder! they didn't hit me--so i should care. if cliff wants to set guards around this camp before there's anything to guard, that's his business. like paying me before i fly, i guess. he's got the guards up there practising, maybe. i should worry; my job's flying." chapter eighteen into mexico and return bright-eyed, eager for the adventure trail, johnny swung the propeller of the thunder bird over three times and turned to cliff. "here's where you learn one of the joys of flying. hold her there while i climb in. when i holler contact, you kick her over--if you're man enough." cliff smiled, dropped his cigarette and ground it under his heel, then reached up and grasped the propeller blade. "i never actually did this, but i've watched others do it. i suppose i must learn. oh, before we go up, i ought to tell you that i'd like to go on over the line this morning if possible. if you can fly very high, and when you near the line just glide as quietly as possible, i think it can be managed without our being seen. and since it is only just daylight now, it should not be late when we arrive." "it should not," johnny agreed. "arriving late ain't what worries a flyer--it's arriving too doggone unexpected. where do we light, in mexico? just any old place?" "straight toward mateo's camp, first--flying very high. from there on i'll direct you. shall we start?" "you're the doctor," grunted johnny, not much pleased with cliff's habit of giving information a bit at a time as it was needed. it seemed to betray a lack of confidence in him, a fear that he might tell too much; though how johnny could manage to divulge secrets while he was flying a mile above the earth, cliff had probably not attempted to explain. because he was offended, johnny gave cliff what thrills he could during that flight. he went as high as he dared, which was very high indeed, and hoped that cliff's ears roared and that he was thinking pleasant thoughts such as the effect upon himself of dropping suddenly to that sliding relief map away down below. he hoped that cliff was afraid of being lost, and of landing on some high mountain that stuck up like a little hill above the general assembly of dimpled valleys and spiny ridges and hills. but if cliff were afraid he did not say so, and when the double-pointed hill that johnny had reason to remember slid toward them, cliff pointed ahead to another, turned his head and shouted. "see that deep notch in the ridge away off there? fly toward that notch." johnny flew. the double-pointed hill drifted behind them, other hills slid up until the two could gaze down upon their highest peaks. beyond, as cliff's maps had told him, lay mexico. at eight thousand feet he shut off the motor and glided for the notched ridge. the patrol who sighted the thunder bird at that height, with no motor hum to call his attention upward, must have sharp eyes and a habit of sky-gazing. cliff, peering down over the edge of the cockpit, must have thought so, for he laughed aloud triumphantly. "fine! i think we are putting one over on my friends, the guards," he cried, with more animation than johnny had yet observed in him. indeed, it occurred to johnny quite suddenly that he had never heard cliff lowell laugh heartily out loud before. "how far can you keep this up--without the motor?" "till we hit the ground," drawled johnny, who was enjoying his position of captain of this cruise. he had been taking orders from cliff for about forty-eight hours now without respite save when he slept, and even his sleep had been ordered by cliff. "i could make that twelve miles or so from here, though. why?" "in the twelve miles you would not be using gas--could you glide to the ridge, circle and fly high again, and back to mateo's camp without stopping for gas?" johnny gave a grunt of surprise. "i guess i could," he said. "why?" "then do it. just that. on this side of the notch you will see--when you are close enough--a few adobe buildings. i want to pass over those buildings at a height of, say, five hundred feet; or a little lower will be better, if you can make it. then circle and come back again. and try and make the return trip as high as you did coming down, until you are well past those mountains we passed over, just inside the line. then come down at camp as inconspicuously as possible. i may add that as we pass over the buildings i mentioned, please start your motor. i am not expected at just this time, and i wish to attract attention." "hunh!" grunted johnny. "you'd sure attract attention if i didn't--because how the deuce would you expect me to climb back from five hundred feet to eight thousand or so, without starting the motor?" cliff did not answer. he was busy with something which he had brought with him; a square package to which johnny had paid very little attention, thinking it some article which cliff wanted to have in camp. evidently this was not to be a news-gathering trip, though johnny could not see why not, now they were over here. why just sail over a few houses and fly home? he could see the houses now, huddled against the ridge. a ranch, he guessed it, since half the huddle appeared to be sheds and corrals. a queer place to gather news of international importance, thought johnny, as he volplaned down toward the spot. he threw in the motor and was buzzing over the buildings when cliff unstrapped himself, half rose in his seat and lifted something in his arms. "steady," he cried. "i want to drop this over." whereupon he heaved it backward so that it would fall clear of the wing, and peered after it through his goggles for a minute. "you can go home now," he shouted to johnny, and settled down in his seat with the air of a man who has done his duty and has nothing more on his mind. mystified, johnny spiraled upward until he had his altitude, and started back for the united states. clouds favored him when he crossed the boundary, hiding him altogether from the earth. indeed, they caused him to lose himself for a minute, so that when he dropped down below the strata of vapor he was already nearly over the double-pointed hill that was his landmark. but cliff did not notice, and a little judicious manoeuvering brought him into the little valley and headed straight for the oak, easily identified because mateo was standing directly in front of it waving a large white cloth. they landed smoothly and stopped exactly where johnny had planned to stop. he climbed out, cliff following more awkwardly, and the three of them wheeled the thunder bird under the oak where it was completely hidden. it was not until he had come out again into the warm sunshine of mid-morning that johnny observed how the kiddies were playing their part. they had a curious little homemade wheelbarrow rigged, and were trundling it solemnly up and down and over and around the single mark made by the tail drag. a boy of ten or twelve rode the barrow solidly and with dignity, while a thin-legged girl pushed the vehicle. behind them trotted two smaller ones, gravely bestriding stick horses. casually it resembled play. it would have been play had not mateo gone out where they were and inspected the result of stick-dragging and barrow-wheeling, and afterwards, with a wave of his hand and a few swift mexican words, directed them to play farther out from the oak, where the thunder bird had first come to earth. solemn-eyed, they extended the route of their procession, and johnny, watching them with a queer grin on his face, knew that when those children stopped "playing" there would be no mark of the thunder bird's landing left upon that soil. "i've sure got to hand it to the kids," he told cliff, who merely smiled and pulled out his cigarette case for a smoke. chapter nineteen but johnny was neither fool nor knave cliff smiled faintly one morning and handed johnny a long manila envelope over their breakfast table in mateo's cabin. "your third week's salary," he idly explained. "do you want it?" "well, i ain't refusing it," johnny grinned back. "i guess maybe i'll stick for another week, anyway." he emptied his coffee cup and held it up for mateo's woman to refill, trying to match cliff lowell's careless air of indifference to the presence of seventeen hundred dollars on that table. "that is, if you think i'm making good," he added boyishly, looking for praise. "your third week's salary answers that, doesn't it? from now on it may not be quite so easy to make good. perhaps, since i want to go across this evening as late as you can make a safe landing over there, i ought to tell you that a border patrol saw us yesterday, coming back, and wondered a little at a government plane getting over the line. he did not report it, so far as i know. but he will make a report the next time he sees the same thing happen." "i wish i didn't have that name painted clear across her belly," johnny fretted. "but if i went and painted it out it would all be black, and that would be just as bad. and if i took off the letters with something, i'm afraid i'd eat off the sizing too, or weaken the fabric or something. i ought to recover the wings, but that takes time--" cliff gave him that tolerant smile which johnny found so intolerable. "it is not at all necessary. i thought of all possible contingencies when i first saw the thunder bird. across the line the name absolutely identifies it, which is rather important. on this side it is known as a bird fond of doing the unusual. your reputation, old man, may help you out of a tight place yet. now we are duck hunters, remember. hereafter we shall be hunting ducks with an airplane--something new, but not at all improbable, especially when it is the thunder bird doing the hunting. we must carry our shotguns along with us, and a few ducks as circumstantial evidence. if we stray across the line accidentally, that will be because you do not always look where you are flying, and watch the landmarks." "this, of course, in case we are actually caught. though i do not see why that should happen. they have no anti-aircraft guns to bring us down. it may be a good idea to carry an auxiliary tank of gasoline in case of an emergency." "i don't see why--not if i fill up over there every time i land. i can stay up three hours--longer, if i can glide a lot. of course that high altitude takes more, in climbing up, and flying while you're up there, but the distance is short. i'll chance running outa gas. i don't want the extra weight, flying high as we have to. the motor's doing all she wants to do, just carrying us." cliff did not argue the point, but went out to his car, fussed with it for a few minutes, and then drove off on one of the mysterious trips that took him away from mateo's cabin and sometimes kept him away for two days at a time. johnny did not know where cliff went; to see the boss, perhaps, and turn in what news he had gleaned--if indeed he had succeeded in gleaning any. sometimes the long waits were tiresome to a youth who loved action. but johnny had been schooled to the monotony of a range line-camp, and if he could have ridden over the country while he waited, he would not have minded being left idle most of the time. but he did not dare leave camp for more than half an hour or so at a time, because he never knew what minute cliff might return and want him; and when one is being paid something like ten dollars an hour, waking or sleeping, for his time, one feels constrained to keep that precious time absolutely available to his employer. at least, johnny felt constrained to do so. he could not even go duck hunting. mateo hunted the ducks, using johnny's gun or cliff's, and seldom failing to bring back game. it would be ducks shot by mateo which would furnish the circumstantial evidence which cliff mentioned that morning. johnny went out to the thunder bird, shooed three kids from under the wings, and began to fuss with the motor. one advantage of being idle most of the time was the easy life the thunder bird was leading. the motor was not being worn out on this job, at any rate. so far he had not spent a hundred dollars of his salary on the upkeep of his machine. he was glad of that, because he already had enough to pay old sudden and have the price of a car left over. with the thunder bird clear, and a couple of thousand dollars to the good--why, he would not change places with the owner of the rolling r himself! he could go back any time and vindicate himself to the whole outfit. he could pick mary v up and carry her off now, without feeling that he was taking any risk with her future. poor little girl, she would be wondering what had become of him; he'd write, or send a wire, if cliff would ever open his heart enough to take a fellow with him to where there was a post-office or something. he was beginning to feel a deep need of some word from mary v, was johnny. he was beginning to worry, to grow restive down here in the wilderness, seeing nothing, doing nothing save kill time between those short, surreptitious flights across to the notched ridge and back again. two weeks of that was beginning to pall. but the money he was receiving did not pall. it held him in leash, silenced the doubts that troubled him now and then, kept him temporizing with that uneasy thing we call conscience. he climbed now into the cockpit, testing the controls absent-mindedly while he pondered certain small incidents that caused him a certain vague discomfort whenever he thought of them. for one thing, why must a gatherer of news carry mysterious packages into mexico and leave them there, sometimes throwing them overboard with a tiny parachute arrangement, as cliff had done on the first trip, and flying back without stopping? why must a newspaper man bring back certain mysterious packages, and straightway disappear with them in the car? that he should confer long and secretly with men of florid complexions and an accent which hardens its g's and sharpens its s's, might very plausibly be a part of his gathering of legitimate news of international import. though johnny rather doubted its legitimacy, he had no doubt whatever of its world-wide importance. certain nations were at war--and he was no fool, once he stopped dreaming long enough to think logically. those packages bothered him more than the florid gentlemen, however. at first he suspected smuggling, or something like that. but gun-running, that staple form of border lawbreaking, did not fit into any part of cliff's activities, though opium might. but when he had made an excuse for handling one or two of the packages, they routed the opium theory. they were flat and loosely solid, as packages of paper would be. not state documents such as melodramas use to keep the villains sweating--they did not come in reams, so far as johnny knew. he could think of no other papers that would need smuggling into or out of a country as free as ours where freedom of the press has become a watchword; yet the idea persisted stubbornly that those were packages of paper which he had managed to take in his hands. as a pleasing relief from useless cogitation on the subject, johnny took his bank roll from a pocket he had sewed inside his shirt. like a miser he fingered the magic paper, counting and recounting, spending it over and over in anticipatory daydreams. thirty-two hundred dollars he counted in bills of large denomination--impressively clean, crisp bills, some of them--and mentally placed that amount to one side. that would pay old sudden, interest and all. what was left he could do with as he pleased. he counted it again. there were three hundred dollars left from what bland had earned--bland-- what had become of bland, anyway? little runt might be broke again; in fact, it was practically certain that he would be broke again, though he must have had close to a hundred dollars when they landed in los angeles. oh, well--forget bland! so there were the three hundred--gee golly, but it had cost, that short stay in the burg of bland's dreams. a hundred dollars gone like the puff of a cigarette! well, there were the three hundred left--he'd have been broke, pronto, if he had stayed there much longer. another hundred he had spent on the thunder bird--golly, but propellers do cost a lot! and that shotgun he never had had a chance to shoot--cliff sure was a queer guy, making him buy all that scenery, and then caching him away so no one ever got a chance to size him up and see whether he looked like a duck hunter or not. well, anyway, let's see. there were a thousand in big juicy hundreds; and five hundred more in fifties and twenties-- out beyond the oak's leafy screen the dogs were barking and growling and the children were calling shrilly. johnny hastily put away his wealth and eased himself up so that he could peer out through the branches. he had not consciously feared the coming of strangers, yet now he felt his heart thumping noisily because of the clamor out in the yard. while he looked, two horsemen rode past and stopped at the cabin. now johnny had been telling himself what a godsend some new face would be to him, yet he did not rush out to welcome the callers and ask the news of the outside world which cliff was so chary of giving. he did not by any sound or movement declare his presence. he simply craned and listened. one of the men he could not see because of a great, overhanging limb that barred his vision. the other happened to stop just opposite a very good peephole through the leaves. the kiddies were standing back shyly, patently interrupted in their pretended play of trundling the wheelbarrow and dragging the stick horses over the yard. rosa, the thin-legged girl, stood shyly back with her finger in her mouth, in plain sight of johnny, though she could not see him in the deep shadow of the leaves. it was the man that interested johnny, however. he was a soldier, probably one of the border patrol. he sat his horse easily, erect in the saddle, straight-limbed and alert, with lean hard jaw and a gray eye that kept glancing here, there, everywhere while the other talked. it was only a profile view that johnny saw, but he did not need a look at the rest of his face with the other gray eye to be uncomfortably convinced that not much would escape him. "it circled and seemed to come down somewhere on this side the potreros and it has not been seen since. ask the kids if they saw something that looked like a big bird flying." this from the unseen one, who had raised his voice as impatience seized him. these mexicans were so slow-witted! johnny heard mateo's voice, speaking at length. he saw rosa take her finger from her mouth, catch up a corner of her ragged, apron and twist it in an agony of confusion, and then as if suddenly comprehending what it was these senores wished to know, she pointed jerkily toward the north. perhaps the others also pointed to the north, for the lean-jawed soldier tilted his head backward and stared up that way, and mateo spoke in very fair english. "the kids, she's see. no, i dunno. i'm busy i don' make attenshions. i'm fine out when--" "we know when," the efficient looking soldier interrupted. "you keep watch. if you see it fly back, see just where it comes from and where it goes, and ride like hell down to camp and tell us. you will get more money than you can make here in a year. you sabe that?" "yo se, senor--me, i'm onderstan'." "you know where our camp is?" "si, senor capitan. me, i'm go lak hell." "well, there's nothing more to be got here. let's get along." and as they moved off johnny caught a fragmentary phrase "from riverside." the children had taken up their industrious play again, and their mother had turned from the open doorway to hush the crying of mateo's youngest in the cabin. mateo called the children to him and patted them on the head, and the senora, their mother, brought candy and gave it to them. they ran off, sucking the sweets, gabbling gleefully to one another. cliff lowell had been right, nothing is so disarming as a woman and children about a place where secrets are kept. there had been no suspicion of mateo's cabin and the family that lived there in squalid content. the incident was closed. but johnny slumped down in the seat again and glowered through the little, curved windshield at the crisply wavering leaves beyond the thunder bird's nose. he was not a fool, any more than he was a crook. he was young and too confiding, too apt to take things for granted and let the other fellow do the worrying, so long as things were fairly pleasant for johnny jewel. but right now his eyes were open in more senses than one, and they were very wide open at that. there was something very radically wrong with this job. the fiction of legitimate news gathering in mexico could no longer give him any feeling save disgust for his own culpability. news gathering did not require armed guards--not in this country, at least--and such mysteries as cliff lowell dealt in. the money in his possession ceased to give him any little glow of pleasure. instead, his face grew all at once hot with shame and humiliation. it was not honest money, although he had earned it honestly enough. if it had been honest money, why should those soldiers go riding through the valleys, looking for him and his plane? it was not for the pleasure of saying howdy, if johnny might judge from the hard-eyed glances of that one who had stopped in plain view. it was not honest money that he had been taking. why, even the kids out there knew it was not honest! look at rosa, playing shrewdly her part of dumb shyness in the presence of strangers--and she thinking all the while how best she could lie to them, the little imp! it was not the first time she had shown her shrewdness. why, nearly every time cliff wanted to make a trip across the line, those kids climbed the hill to where they could look all over the flat and the near-by hills, and if they saw any one they would yell down to mateo. if the interloper happened to be close, they had orders to roll small rocks down for a warning, so cliff one day told johnny with that insufferably tolerant smile. cliff brought them candy and petted them, just for what use he could make of them as watchdogs. would all that be necessary for a legitimate enterprise? wouldn't the guards have orders to shut their eyes when an airplane flew high, bearing a man who gathered news vital to the government? once before johnny had been made a fool of by horse thieves who plied their trade across the line. they had given him this very same airplane to keep him occupied and tempt him away from his duty while they stole rolling r horses at their leisure. wasn't this very money--thirty-two hundred dollars of it--going to pay for that bit of gullibility? gulled into earning money to pay for an earlier piece of gross stupidity! "the prize--mark!" he branded himself. "by golly, they've got me helping 'em do worse than steal horses from the rolling r, this time; putting something over on the government is their little stunt--and by golly, i fell for the bait just like i done the other time! _huhn_!" then he added a hopeful threat. "but they had me on the hip, that time--this time it's going to be different!" for the rest of that day he brooded, waiting for cliff. what he would do he himself did not know, but he was absolutely determined that he would do something. chapter twenty mary v takes the trail on a saturday afternoon spring street at sixth is a busy street, as timid pedestrians and the traffic cop stationed there will testify. in times not so far distant the general public howled insistently for a subway, or an elevated railway--anything that would relieve the congestion and make the downtown district of los angeles a decently safe place to walk in. but subways and elevated railways cost money, and the money must come from the public which howls for these things. gradually the public ceased to howl and turned its attention to dodging instead. for that reason sixth and spring remains a busy corner, especially at certain hours of the day. on a certain saturday, months before the traffic cops grew tired of blowing whistles and took to revolving silently at stated intervals with outspread wings after the manner of certain mechanical toys, mary v selmer came from the western union's main office, and thanked heaven silently that her new roadster of the type called the bear cat was still standing at the curb where she had left it. just beyond it on the left a stream of automobiles grazed by--but none so new and shiny, so altogether elegantly "sassy" as the bear cat. mary v, when she stepped in and settled herself behind the steering wheel, matched the car, completed its elegant "sassiness," its general air of getting where it wanted to go, let the traffic be what it might and devil-take-the-fenders. mary v was unhappy, but her unhappiness was somewhat mitigated by the bear cat and her new mole collar that made a soft, fur wall about her slim throat to her very ears and the tip of her saucy chin, and the perky hat--also elegantly "sassy"--turned up in front and down behind, and the new driving gauntlets, and the new coat that had made dad groan until he had seen mary v inside it and changed the groan to a proud little chuckle of admiration. mary v was terribly worried about johnny jewel. she had been sure that he had come to los angeles, and she had pestered her dad into bringing her here in the firm belief that she would find him at once and "have it out with him" once and for all. (just as though mary v could ever settle a quarrel once and for all!) but though she had haunted all the known and some of the unknown flying fields, she had found no trace of johnny. that messenger boy in tucson had insisted that the plane climbed high and then flew toward the coast. and at yuma she had learned that the thunder bird had alighted there for gas and oil and had flown toward los angeles. but so far as mary v could discover, it was still flying. hoping to wean her from worrying about johnny, dad had bought the bear cat. mary v had owned it for ten days now, and its mileage stood at and was just about ready to slide another " " into sight. the bear cat had proven itself a useful little cat. now she shifted from neutral to second, disdaining low speed altogether, and swung boldly out into the stream of traffic. a ford shied off with a startled squawk to let the bear cat by. a hurrying truck that was thinking of cutting in to get first chance within the safety zone passage thought better of it when mary v honked her big klaxon at him, and stopped with a jolt that nearly brought the ford to grief behind it. but mary v ignored these trifles. she was busy wondering where she should go next, and she was scanning swiftly the faces of the passers-by in the hope of glimpsing the one face she wished most of all to see. she reached the corner just as the frame closed against her, and with one small foot on the clutch pedal and the other on the brake, she leaned back and scanned the crowd. abruptly she leaned and beckoned, saw that her signal went unregarded, and gave three short but terrific blasts of her klaxon. five hundred and forty-nine persons reacted sharply to the sound and sent startled glances her way. the traffic cop whirled and looked, the motorman on the car waiting beside her leaned far out and craned, and the conductor grasped both handrails and took a step down that he might see the better. mary v ignored these trifles. bland, for whom she had meant it, jumped and turned a pale, startled pair of eyes her way, and to him she beckoned imperiously. he hesitated, glanced this way and that, making a quick mental decision. mary v had once been candidly tempted to shoot him and had dallied with the temptation to the point of cocking her sixshooter and aiming it directly at him. she looked now quite capable of repeating the performance and of completing what she had merely started last summer. he went to the edge of the curb, obeying her expectant stare. the expectant stare continued to transfix him, and he stepped off the curb and close to the bear cat that was growling in its throat. "bland halliday, where have you _been_, for gracious sake? and where's johnny?" "i ain't been anywhere but here--and i wisht i knowed where johnny was. i--" "bland halliday, you tell me instantly! where's johnny?" "honest, i don't know. i been looking for him myself, and--" "bland halliday, do you want to be torn limb from limb, right here on the public street before everybody? i want to know where johnny is, and i want to know _now_." "aw, f'r cat's sake! i ain't saw johnny f'r three weeks--not since the night we got here. i been looking--" behind them sounded a succession of impatient honks that extended almost to seventh street. the traffic cop had blown his whistle, the street car had clanged warning and gone on. the truck had shaved past mary v and the ford had followed. other cars coming up behind had mistaken the bear cat's inaction for closed traffic and had stopped. others had stopped behind them; then two other street cars slid up and blocked the way around. mary v was quite oblivious to all this. she was glaring at the one link between herself and johnny jewel. she was bitterly regretting the fact that she had no gun with which to scare bland into telling the truth, and she was wondering what other means of coercion would prove effective. bland knew where johnny was, of course. he was lying, for some reason--probably because he had the habit and couldn't stop. bland kept an eye on mary v's right hand. he suspected a gun, and when, in involuntary obedience to the frantic honkings behind her, she let her hand drop to the gear lever, bland turned to flee. "bland, you come back here!" bland came. "what do you mean, trying to avoid answering a perfectly civil question?" "i did answer it," bland protested in his whining tone. "i said i didn't know--" "that's no answer; that's nothing but a plain old lie. you do know perfectly well where he is. you left tucson with johnny, and you left yuma with him. bland halliday, what have you done with him?" bland's eyes turned slightly glassy. like a trapped animal, he sent roving glances here and there--and took in the purposeful approach of the traffic cop. he turned again toward the curb. "don't you dare attempt to leave before--" "what's the matter here? what you blocking traffic for? don't you know i can--" "oh! am i in the way here? i shall move immediately, of course. thank you so much! it's really no trouble at all, and i'm tremendously sorry if i have inconvenienced you or the general public any. i believe you are really _glad_, down deep in your heart, when somebody gives you an excuse to leave that horrid little square spot for a minute. don't you nearly go wild, having to--bland! what are you standing there holding up traffic for? get in!" looking completely dazed and helpless, bland got in. "now we're all ready, mr. policeman. run along back and point the herd again before all the nice little tame fords get walked on. i hear one squalling now. and thank you so much." mary v let in the clutch. the bear cat slid out across the street, scattering pedestrians and jeopardizing wheels and fenders as it ducked past them. the traffic cop stood still for a minute, rubbing his chin vaguely and staring after mary v. then he went back to his post, grinning and frowning--which gave him a strange, complex expression. "aw, say, miss selmer--" "will you be quiet? haven't you done harm enough, for gracious sake? aren't you satisfied with getting me almost put in jail innocently? if you had told me at once where johnny is, i'd be miles away by now. but no--you hold up traffic trying to deceive me, and i almost get pinched. i should think you'd be ashamed. where is johnny? if you have done anything to him, bland halliday, i'll--hang you!" "i been telling yuh all i know about it. i don't know where he is, and i don't know where the plane is. they're both of 'em gone, and that's gawd's truth, miss selmer. last i seen of johnny he was goin' in the alexandria. he said he was going to stop there. he registered all right--i seen his name. he stayed all night, and he was gone the next day when i went after him. and the plane's gone, i been out there, and i can't find so much as a sign of it. and that was three weeks ago. and you kin hang me till i'm dead, but i can't tell nothin' more. don't yuh spose i want to know where's he at?" "well--" mary v crossed the path of a street car, leaving the motorman shivering while he stood on the bell that clamored wildly. "maybe you are telling the truth--but i doubt it." they were across figueroa street and speeding out toward westlake. the bear cat was breaking the speed law, and mary v had no time to say more. "where you takin' me, f'r cat's sake?" "oh--for a ride. don't you like to ride?" mary v's voice was filled with amiability; too much so to satisfy bland, who eyed her with suspicion. "aw, a fellow can't never git a square deal no more. here i been hunting the town over trying to git some line on skyrider. went and left me in the lurch after me helping him to a roll of kale that would choke a nelephant! and i never charged him nothin' for flying, except just what we agreed on before he got throwed in jail. handed him over close to five hundred dollars when he come out--piloted him here, took him into town, and was planning on helping him to make more money, and what does he do? ducks into the alexandria, leavin' me waitin' outside, hungry and thirsty and tired as a dog. him with five hundred, me with seventy-five! and _he_ wouldn't a knowed any different if i'd trimmed him! who was to keep tabs on how many passengers i took up? and what does he do? gives me the slip right there in the alexandria, that's what he done. i ain't been able to locate him yet, but if ever i do--" mary v swung the bear cat out and passed a limousine as though it were standing still--which it emphatically was not. what if bland were telling the truth? what if johnny had actually dropped out of sight with five hundred dollars in his possession? that would mean--she refused to consider just what it would mean. she would wait until her dad had gotten the truth out of bland halliday. she was taking bland home, hoping that her dad was there so that she would not be compelled to keep bland any longer than was necessary. bland was seedier than he had been in tucson, if that were possible. too evidently he had no part of the seventy-five dollars left, if he had ever possessed that much. mary v would like to disbelieve everything he said, but a troubled doubt of his falsity assailed her. she drove a little faster and presently brought bland to the door of a cheerful, wide-porched bungalow patterned somewhat after the rolling r home. old sudden was just pulling on his driving gloves ready to step into his own car when the bear cat slid up and stopped. he looked at bland casually, looked again quickly, pursing his lips. whereupon his poker face hid what he thought. "dad, come back into the house and talk to bland halliday. he told me the strangest story about johnny, and--and i wish you'd just talk to him and see if it's true." mary v was not altogether without consideration for the feelings of another, but candor was the keynote of her nature, and she was very much perturbed, and she did not really feel that a fellow like bland halliday had any feelings to consider. sudden smoothed a smile off his mouth. "well, now, this is very thoughtful of you; very thoughtful. i appreciate your coming to consult me before you have settled the whole thing yourself. come into the house, young man." an hour later, sudden leaned back in his chair and looked at mary v. tight-lipped, paler than she had any right to be, mary v met the look wide-eyed. bland moved his feet anxiously, watching them both. "i played square with him," he whined. "either he didn't, or else--" sudden's eyes turned to bland and settled there meditatively. "yes, i guess you did," he admitted. "looks like you had played fair. where are you stopping? i'll take you back down town. need money?" "dad! aren't you going to _do_ anything? if bland is telling the truth, don't you see what it means? something must have happened--" "well, now, that will all be attended to, kitten. according to bland, johnny checked out before he disappeared. also his airplane disappeared with him. that doesn't look like he'd been made away with, exactly. he's all right, probably--but we'll find out. i've a right to know what he did with that flying machine; it's security for that note of his!" mary v sprang to her feet and faced him. "dad selmer, i would never have believed a person on oath if they had said you could be so perfectly mean and mercenary! if that's all you care about, why take the bear cat and give me that note! go on--take it! i guess johnny has a right to do as he pleases until the note is due, at any rate. you might at least treat johnny with ordinary business courtesy, i should think. you know perfectly well that you wouldn't dare hound your other creditors like that. but if you are really worried about that note, i shall deem it a pleasure and a privilege to pay it myself, and i'm sure the bear cat is good for the amount, or if you prefer you may hold back my allowance, and i shall go without clothes and everything until it is paid. it's a perfect outrage to keep nagging johnny when he's doing his level best and not asking any help from you or any one else. i'm sure i honor and respect him all the more, and you would too if you had a drop of human blood--now what are you grinning for--and trying to hide it? dad selmer, you do make me perfectly furious at times!" mary v laid hands upon her father and for his shortcomings she "woolled" him until his grizzled hair stood straight on end. sudden protested, tried to hold her off at arm's length and found her all claws, like an excited wildcat. "now, now--" "tell me then what you are going to do. and don't try to make me believe you only care for that horrid note. every time i think of you making that poor boy sign over everything he had on earth, except me, of course, and you wouldn't let him have me when he wanted--why, dad, i could shake you till--" bland was edging to the door. he had no experience with families and domestic upheavals, and he did not know just how serious this quarrel might prove. he expected sudden to order mary v from the house--to disown her, at the very least. he did not want to be a witness when sudden broke loose. but sudden called him back and turned to mary v. "here, let me go. you're scaring off the only evidence we've got that johnny landed here. you stay right here and behave yourself, young lady. i might want to 'phone you, if i get a clue--" "oh, dad! cross your heart you'll 'phone the very instant you find out anything? here's your hat--do, for gracious sake, hurry!" chapter twenty-one johnny is not paid to think on that same saturday afternoon, at about the time when mary v sighted bland at the southeast corner of sixth and spring, johnny stood just under the peak behind mateo's cabin and saw a lone horseman ride across the upper neck of the little valley and disappear into the brush on the side opposite him. he waited impatiently. the rider did not reappear, but presently he saw what looked like a human figure crouched behind a rock well up the slope. johnny stared until his eyes watered with the strain, but he could not be sure that the object was a man. if it were, the man was without a doubt placed there for purposes of observation. the thought was not a pleasant one. he waited, himself crouched now behind a jutting fragment of rock, and thought he saw the object move. a little later the sun, sliding farther down the sky, reflected a glittering something just above that rock. a bit of glass would do that--the lenses of a field glass, for instance. two lenses would shine as one, johnny believed, and was thankful that his slope was in shadow. taking it for granted that some one was watching the valley, he studied the spot where the glitter had already winked out--possibly because the man had moved the field glasses, sweeping the valley. it was a good place for a spy, johnny admitted. there was a slight ridge just there, so that the view was clear for some distance in either direction; mateo's cabin was in plain sight, and the surrounding hills. he hoped the fellow would see nothing suspicious and would presently give up that post; in the meantime he was effectually treed. there was no shelter that he dared trust on the first rocky half of the descent, and to climb up and over the peak he would surely reveal himself, unless the fellow's attention happened to be centered on something else. johnny studied his predicament. the man could see everything--but could he hear? he was half a mile off, johnny judged, estimating the distance with an accuracy born of long living in the country of far skylines. the spy would need sharp ears indeed to hear anything less than a shout. johnny picked up a pebble, aimed, and threw it at the roof of mateo's cabin. the pebble landed true and rattled off, hitting the ground with a bounce and rolling away in the grass. the children, playing in the open as they always did, stopped and looked up inquiringly, then went on with their play. mateo came cautiously from the back door and to him johnny called, thankful that the observer on the hillside could not see through the cabin to where mateo stood. "stay where you are," he called. "can you hear me?" mateo nodded emphatically. "all right. take your gun and start off across the flat, down the way cliff will come. act like you didn't want to be seen. there's somebody across on the hill, up here, and i want to see if he'll follow you. you get me?" "si, yes. i'm go." "after awhile you can come back. if you see cliff, tell him he's after ducks. sabe?" "yo se. i'm onderstan'." "all right. go back in the house and come out the front door and start off." mateo waved his hand and disappeared. in five minutes or less johnny saw him walking away from the cabin and glancing frequently at the hills upon either hand. his manner might have been called stealthy, if one were looking for stealth. johnny was looking for something else, and presently he gave a grunt of satisfaction. the object behind the rock stood up and levelled his glasses at mateo. johnny waited until he was sure and then scrambled down to the protection of another bowlder. he peered from there up the valley and after some searching discovered his man working carefully along a side hill, evidently anxious to keep mateo in sight. johnny worked down another rod or two, reconnoitered again, made another sliding run for it, and stopped behind a clump of brush. in that way he reached the shelter of the oak, feeling certain that he had not been seen. through the screen of branches he looked out across the little valley, but he could not see any one at all, not even mateo. so he turned to his one solace, the thunder bird, and dusted it as carefully as a young girl dusts her new piano. with a handful of waste he went over the motor, wiping it until it shone wherever shining was possible, and tried not to think of the man on the hillside. that was cliff's affair--until johnny was ready to make the affair his. "i wish i knew just what he's up to," johnny fretted. "if i just _knew_ something! i'd look like a boob now, wouldn't i, if the guards nabbed us? they might try to pin most anything on me, and i wouldn't have any comeback. it don't look good, if anybody asks me! and if they--" "man's come here," rosa announced close behind him in a tense whisper. "walking." johnny jumped and went on his toes to a spot where he could look through the foliage. "walking down," explained rosa, and waved a skinny hand toward the hill behind them. "did you see him?" "no, senor. i'm seeing rocks falling where somebody walks down." there was nothing to do but wait. johnny pushed the girl toward the cabin and saw her scramble under the lowest branches and join the others unconcernedly, tagging the boy josef, and, then running off into the open--where she could see the hillside--with josef running after. she did not seem to be watching the hill, while she was apparently absorbed in dodging josef, but johnny gathered from her gestures that the man was still coming and that he was making for the cabin. he was wondering what she meant by suddenly sinking to the ground in shrill laughter, when he heard a step behind him. he whirled, startled, his hand jerking back toward the gun he wore. "i approve your watchfulness, but you happened to be watching in the wrong direction," said cliff, brushing dirt from his hunting clothes. "well, they are getting warm, old man. they have eliminated riverside as a probable hang-out for the mystery plane, and--" he waved a hand significantly while he stood his shotgun against the bole of the tree. "some one saw us land in this valley," he added. "luckily they do not suspect mateo yet. i saw him going down the flat and sent him on to tell the patrol a lot they already knew. he saw the plane come down, but has not been able to find the exact spot. he thinks it took the air again. his ninos told him of a big bird flying east. great boy, mateo. great kids. did they see me coming?" "sure they did. rosa's eagle eye spotted a rock or two rolling down and came and told me." "good girl, rosa. the car's over in another valley, parked under a tree very neatly and permanently and in plain sight. its owner is off hunting somewhere. by its number plates they will never know it. good old car." "you seem tickled to think they're after you," johnny observed, rolling a cigarette by way of manifesting complete unconcern. "what's the next move?" "get me across without letting them see where we come from. can you fly at night?" "sure, i can fly at night. don't the germans fly at night all over london? i won't swear i'll light easy, though." "there'll be a moon," said cliff. "i've got to get over, and i've got to light, and i've got to get back again. there are no if's this time; it's _got_ to be done." "a plane chased us, day before yesterday," johnny informed him, fanning the smoke from before his face and squinting one eye while he studied cliff. "it was a long way off, and i got down before it was close enough to see just where i lit. it came back yesterday and scouted around, flying above five thousand feet up. to-day i saw two of them sailing around, but they didn't fly over this way. they were over behind this hill, and high. we'd better do our flying at night, old-timer." "you can dodge them. you've got to dodge them," said cliff. "if i fly," johnny qualified dryly. "you've got to fly. you're in to your neck, old man--and there's a loop ready for that." then, as though he had caught himself saying more than was prudent, he laughed and amended the statement. "of course, i'm just kidding, but at that, it's important that you make this flight and as many more as you can get away with. there's something to be brought back to-night--legitimate news, understand, but of tremendous value to the syndicate." he reached into his pocket and drew out an envelope such as johnny had learned to associate with money. "here's two thousand dollars, old man. the boss knows the risk and added a couple of hundred for good measure, this week. when you land me over there to-night i'll give you this." he smiled disagreeably. "i think you'll fly, all right--for this." "sure, i'll fly--for that. i was kidding. for two thousand i'd fly to berlin and bring back a lock of old kaiser bill's hair." "that's the way to talk, old man! i knew you were game. i told the boss so, when he asked if we could count on you. i said you had nerve, no political prejudices, and--that you need the money." "that's my number, i guess," johnny admitted, grinning. cliff laughed again, which made three distinct impulses to laughter in one conversation. this was not like cliff's usual conservatism. as johnny had known him he laughed seldom, and then only at something disagreeable. he was keyed up for something; a great coup of some sort was in sight, johnny guessed shrewdly, studying cliff's face and the sparkle in his eyes. he was like a man who sees success quite suddenly where he has feared to look upon failure. johnny wondered just what that success might mean--to others. "i bet you're putting over something big that will tickle uncle sam purple," he hazarded, giving cliff a round-eyed, admiring glance. "it will tickle him--purple, all right!" cliff's tone had a slight edge on it. "you're sitting in a big game, my boy, but you aren't paid to ask questions. you go ahead and earn your two thousand. you do the flying, and let some one else do the thinking." "i get you," said johnny laconically and took himself and his thinkless brain elsewhere. chapter twenty-two johnny makes up his mind "no political prejudices--hunh!" johnny was filling the gas tank, and while he did it he was doing a great deal of thinking which he was not paid to do. "this newspaper business--say, she's one great business, all right. it's nice to have a boss that jumps your wages up a couple of hundred at a lick, and tells you you needn't think, and you mustn't have any political prejudices. fine job, all right. will i fly by moon-light? will i? and them government planes riding on my tail like they've been doing the last two trips? hunh!" cliff came then with a bundle under his arm. johnny cast a suspicious eye down at him, and cliff held up the package. "i want to take this along--rockets; to let them know we're coming. then they'll have flares for us to land by." "been planning on some night-riding, hunh?" "naturally; i would plan for every contingency that could possibly arise." "hunh. that covers them planes that have been line-riding over this way, too, i reckon." johnny climbed down and prepared to pump a little more air into one tire. "possibly. don't let those airplanes worry you, old man. they have to catch us, you know." "no? i ain't worrying about 'em. the one that does the thinking on this job can do the worrying. i'm paid to fly." johnny laughed sourly as he glanced up from where he squatted beside the wheel. "let it go at that. are you about ready? it will be dark in another half hour--dark enough to fly, at least." cliff was moving about restlessly in the gloom under the tree. for all his earlier exhilaration he seemed nervous, in haste to be done. "you said moonlight," johnny reminded him, putting away the pump. "i know, but it's best to get out of here and over the line in the dark, i think. the moon will be up in less than an hour. be ready to leave in half an hour--and don't start the motor until the very last minute. mateo has not come back yet. if they are holding him--" "i'm ready to go when you are. let's run her out before it's plumb dark under here. she can't be seen in this light very far--and if a man comes close enough to see her, he'd get wise anyway. uh course," he apologized quickly, "that's more thinking than i'm paid to do, but you got to let me think a little bit now and then, or i can't fly no two thousand dollars worth to-night." "i meant thinking about my part in the game. all right, i've got her right, on this side. take up the tail and let's run her out." in the open the children were running back and forth, playing tag and squealing over the hazards of the game. when the thunder bird rolled out with its outspread wings and its head high and haughty, they gave a final dash at one another and rushed off to get wheelbarrow and stick horses. they were well trained--shamefully well trained in the game of cheating. johnny looked at them glumly, with an aversion born of their uncanny obedience, their unchildlike shrewdness. fine conspirators they would make later on, when they grew a few years older and more cunning! "head her into the wind so i can take the air right away quick," he ordered cliff, and helped swing the thunder bird round. dusk was settling upon the very heels of a sunset that had no clouds to glorify and therefore dulled and darkened quickly into night, as is the way of sunsets in the southern rim of states. already the shadows were deep against the hill, and in the deepest stood the thunder bird, slim, delicately sturdy, every wire taut, every bit of aluminum in her motor clean and shining, a gracefully potent creature of the air. across her back her name was lettered crudely, blatantly, with the blobbed period where johnny had his first mental shock of sudden's changed attitude toward him. while he pulled on his leather helmet and tied the flaps under his chin, and buttoned his leather coat and pulled on his gloves, johnny stood off and eyed the thunder bird with wistful affection. she was going into the night for the first time, going into danger, perhaps into annihilation. she might never fly again! he went up and laid a hand caressingly on her slanted propeller, just as he used to stroke the nose of his horse sandy before a hard ride. "good old thunder bird! good old mile high! you've got your work cut out for yuh to-night, old girl. go to it--eat it up." he slid his hand down along the blade's edge and whispered, "it's you and me for it, old girl. you back my play like a good girl, and we'll give 'em hell!" he stepped back, catching cliff's eye as cliff took a last puff at his cigarette before grinding it under his heel. "thought i saw a crack in the blade," johnny gruffly explained his action. "it was the way the light struck. all right; turn her over, and we'll go." he climbed in while cliff went to the propeller. never before had johnny felt so keenly the profanation of cliff's immaculate, gloved hands on his beloved thunder bird. "never mind, old girl. his time's short--or ours is," he muttered while he tested his controls. "all right--contact!" he called afterwards, and cliff, with a mighty pull, set the propeller whirling and climbed hastily into his place. the kiddies, grouped close to watch the thunder bird's flight, blinked and turned their faces from the dust storm kicked up by the exhaust. the plane shook, ran forward faster and faster, lifted its little wheels off the ground and went whirring away toward the dark blur of the mountains that rimmed the southern edge of the valley. johnny circled twice, getting sufficient altitude to clear the hills, then flew straight for the border. in the dark cliff would not know the difference between one thousand feet and five thousand, and johnny wanted to save his gas. he even shut off his motor and glided down to one thousand before he had passed the line, and picked up again and held the thunder bird steady, regardless of the droning hum, that would shout its passing to those below. "isn't this rather low?" cliff turned his head to shout. johnny did not read suspicion in his voice, but vague uneasiness lest the trip be brought to a sudden halt. "it's all right. they can't do anything but listen to us go past. i've got to keep my landmarks." cliff leaned and peered below, evidently satisfied with the explanation. a minute later he was fussing with the flare he meant to set off for a signal, and johnny was left free to handle the plane and do a little more of that thinking for which he was not paid. the night sky was wonderful, a deep translucent purple studded with stars that seemed closer, more humanly intimate than when seen from earth even in the higher altitudes. the earth was shadowy, remote, with now a growing brightness as the moon slid up into sight. before its light touched the earth the thunder bird was bathed in its glow. cliff's profile emerged clear-cut from the dusk as he gazed toward the east. johnny, too, glanced that way, but he was not thinking then of the wonderful effect of the rising moon upon the drifting world below. he was wondering just why this trip to-night should be so important to cliff. it would not be the first time that johnny had gone ahead with his eyes shut, but that is not saying he would not have preferred travelling with them open. his lips were set so stubbornly that the three tiny dimples appeared in his chin,--his stubborn-mule chin, mary v had once called it,--and his eyes were big and round and solemn. mary v seeing him then would surely have asked herself, "what, for gracious sake, is johnny up to now?" but mary v was not present, and cliff lowell was fully absorbed in his own thoughts and purposes; wherefore johnny's ominous expression went unnoticed. in the moonlight the notched ridge showed clear, and toward it the thunder bird went booming steadily, as ducks fly south with the first storm wind of november. a twinkling light just under the notch showed that cliff's allies were at home, whether they expected him or not. johnny veered slightly, pointing the thunder bird's nose straight toward the light. cliff half turned, handing something back over his shoulder. "can you drop this for me, old man, when we are almost over the hacienda? the fuse is lighted, and i'm afraid i might heave it on to the wing and set us afire." johnny heard only about half of what cliff was saying, but he understood what was wanted and took the bomb-like contraption and balanced it in his hand. cliff had said rockets, but this thing was not like any rocket johnny had ever seen. some new aerial signal bomb, he guessed it, and thought how thoroughly up-to-date cliff was in all his tools of trade. he poised the thing on the edge of the cockpit, waited until they were rather close, and then gave it a toss overboard. for a few seconds nothing happened. than, halfway to the ground a great blob of red light burst dazzlingly, lighting the adobe building with a crimson glow that floated gently earthward, suspended from its little parachute. cliff handed back another, and johnny heaved it away from the plane. it flared white; the third one, dropped almost before the door of the main building, revealed three men standing there gazing upward, their faces weird in its bluish glare. red, white and blue--a signal used sacrilegiously here, he thought. johnny circled widely and came back to find the landing place lighted by torches of some kind. he was not interested in details, and what they were he did not know or care. the landing was marked for him plainly, though he scarcely needed it with the moon riding now above the low rim of hills. he came down gently, and cliff, remembering to give johnny his money, climbed out hurriedly to meet the florid gentleman who had never yet failed to appear when the thunder bird landed. johnny did not know his name, for cliff had never mentioned it. the two never talked together in his presence, but strolled away where even their voices would not reach him, or went inside the adobe house and stayed there until cliff was ready to return. news gathering, as johnny saw the news gathered, seemed to be mighty secret business, never to be mentioned save in a whisper. the florid gentleman came strolling toward them through the moonlight, smoking a big, fat cigar whose aroma reminded johnny of something disagreeable, like burning rubbish. tonight the florid gentleman's stroll did not seem to match his face, which betrayed a suppressed excitement in spite of the fat cigar. he reached out, caught cliff's arm, and turned back toward the house, forgetting all about his stroll as soon as he began to speak. he forgot something else, for johnny distinctly heard a sentence or two not meant for his ears. "i've put it through all right. i got them to sign with the understanding that they don't turn a hand till you bring the money. you can take--" that was all, for even on that still night the florid gentleman's voice receded quickly to an unintelligible mumbling. they went inside, and the door closed. johnny and the thunder bird were once more shut out from their conference. johnny spied a mexican who was leaning against the wall of a smaller building, smoking and staring pensively across the moonlighted plain toward that portion of the united states where the potreros hunched themselves up against the stars. "bring me some gas, you!" he called peremptorily. the mexican pulled his gaze away from the vista that had held him hypnotized and straightened his lank form reluctantly. from a bench near by he picked up a square kerosene can of the type made internationally popular by a certain oil trust, inspected it to see if the baling-wire handle would hold the weight of four gallons of gasoline, and sauntered to a shed under which a red-leaded iron drum lay on a low scaffold of poles. a brass faucet was screwed into the hole for a faucet. he turned it listlessly, watched the gasoline run in a sparkling stream the size of his finger, went off into a moon-dream until the oil can was threatening to run over, and then shut off the stream at its source. he picked up the can with the air of one whose mind is far distant, came like a sleepwalker to where johnny waited, set the can down, and turned apathetically to retrace his steps to where he could lean again. "that ain't all. bring me a can of water as fast as you brought the gas. we may want to go back to-night." "si," sighed the mexican and continued to drift away. "don't be in a hurry. come and lift the can up to me." the mexican returned as slowly as he had departed, and picked up the can. johnny dropped a half dollar into it, whereat the mexican's eyes opened a trifle wider. "what's the name of that red-faced friend of cliff's?" johnny asked, taking the can and beginning to pour gas into the thunder bird's tank. "quien sabe?" murmured the listless one. johnny paused, and another coin slipped tinkling into the can. "what did you say?" the mexican hesitated. he would like very much to see that other coin. it had sounded heavy--almost as heavy as a dollar. he turned his head and looked attentively at the house. "quien sabe, senor." the senor he added for sake of the coin he had not seen. "mucho name, ah'm theenk." "think some more." johnny poured the last of the gas and caused another clinking sound in the can. the mexican's eyes were as wide open now as they would ever be, and he even called a faint smile to his countenance. "some-_times_--sawb," he recollected, and reached for the can. "sawb--what y'mean, sawb? that's no name for a man. you mean schwab?" "si, senor--sawb." he glanced again at the house distrustfully, as if he feared even his murmur might be overheard. "all right. get the water now." "si, senor." and he went for it at a trot, that he might the sooner investigate the source of those clinking sounds. "schwab! uhm-hm--he looks it, all right." he stepped down to the ground, pulled a handful of silver from his pocket and eyed it speculatively, glancing now and then after the receding mexican. "he'd tell a lot to get it all," he decided. "he'd tell so much he'd make up about four thirds of it. i guess those birds ain't taking greasers like him into their secrets, and he's spilled all he knows when he spilled the fellow's name. four bits more will do him fine." wealth, you will observe, was inclining johnny toward parsimoniousness. he got the water from the hopeful mexican, gave him the half dollar and brief thanks, filled the radiator, and waited for cliff. and in a very few minutes cliff came out, walking as though he were in a hurry. the florid gentleman stood framed in the doorway, watching him as friendly hosts are wont to gaze after departing guests, out west where guests are few. like a departing guest cliff turned for a last word. "i'll be back soon as possible," he called to the man schwab. "a little after sunrise, probably. better wait here for me." schwab nodded and waved his cigar, and johnny grinned to himself while he straddled into his seat. cliff went straight to the propeller. "take me to los angeles, old man. you can light where you did before; there won't be any bean vines in the way this time. i had the japs clear off and level a strip for a landing. it's marked off with white flags, so you can easily see it in this moonlight. luck's with us; i was afraid we might have to wait until morning, but this is fine. several hours will be saved." "i've got you," johnny said--and he did not mean what cliff thought he meant. "all ready? contact!" chapter twenty-three johnny acts boldly off to the right and flying high, two government planes circled slowly over the boundary line. long before the thunder bird had put the map of mexico behind her the two planes veered that way, their fishlike fuselages and the finned rudders gleaming like silver in the moonlight. cliff, happening to glance that way, moved uneasily in his seat and cursed the moon he had so lately blessed. "better duck down somewhere; can't you dodge 'em?" he yelled back at johnny, who was himself eyeing perturbedly the two swift scouts. "you let me handle this. it's what i'm paid for," he yelled back, and banked the thunder bird sharply to the left. he had not yet crossed the border; until he did so those scouting machines dare not do more than keep him in view. but keeping him in view was absurdly simple in that cloudless sky, white-lighted by the moon. to a person looking up from the earth, the situation would have appeared to be simple--a matter of three planes zooming homeward after a long practice flight. the five-pointed star in the black circle, painted on each wing of the government planes, would probably have been invisible at that height, and the bold lettering of the thunder bird indistinguishable also on the shadowed underside of the outlaw plane. to the government planes she was branded irrevocably as they looked down upon her from their superior height. there was no mistaking her, no hope whatever that the scouts might think her anything but the outlaw plane she was, flying in the face of international law, trafficking in treason, fair game if she once crossed the line. on she went, boring through the night, heading straight for tia juana, which lies just south of the line. just north of that invisible line her pursuers held doggedly to the course. "turn back," cliff turned to shout to johnny who was driving big-eyed, his lips pursed with the tense purpose that held him to his work. "turn back and land at the rancho. we'll never make los angeles with those damned buzzards after us. i'll have to notify sch--somebody." "send him a thought message, then." "turn back when i tell you!" cliff twisted around as far as his safety belt would permit, that he might glare at johnny. his tone was the long of stern authority. "can't be done! the thunder bird's took the bit in her teeth. i'm just riding' and whippin' down both sides!" johnny laughed aloud, cliff's tone releasing within him a sudden, reckless mood that gloried in the sport of the chase and forgot for a moment its grim meaning. "whoo-ee! go to it, old girl! they gotta go some to put salt on _your_ tail--whoo-ee!" "are you crazy, man? those are government planes! they're probably armed. they'll get us wherever we cross the line--turn back, i tell you! you're under orders from me, and you'll fly where i tell you! this is no child's play, you fool. if they get me with what papers--it'll be a firing squad for you if they catch you--don't forget that! damn you, don't you realize--" "sit down!" roared johnny. "and shut up!" "i won't shut up!" cliff's eyes, as johnny saw them facing the moon, looked rather wild. "you're working for me, and i order you to take me back to schwab's. you better obey--it will go as hard with you as it will with me if those planes get in their work. why, you fool, they--" "what the heck do i care about them? i'm working for a bigger man than you are right now. sit down!" "stop at tia juana then and let me out. but i warn you--" "shut up!" "i will not! you'll do as i tell you, or i'll--" "now will you shut up?" johnny swung his gun, a heavy, forty-four caliber colt, of the type beloved of the west. its barrel came down fairly on the top of cliff's leathern helmet and all but cracked his skull. cliff shut up suddenly and completely, sliding limply down into his seat. "by gosh, you had it coming!" johnny muttered as he settled back into his seat. he had never knocked a man cold before, and his natural soft-heartedness needed bracing. he had let cliff rave as long as he dared, dreading the alternative. but now that it was done he felt a certain relief to have it over. he could turn his mind wholly to the accomplishment of another feat which would take all his nerve. that other thing had looked simple enough in contemplation, but the actual doing of it presented complications. the simplicity of the plan vanished with the sighting of those two scouting planes that persisted in paralleling his course and herding him away from the line he fain would cross. tia juana with its flat-roofed adobes lay ahead of him now, its lights twinkling like fallen stars. away off to the right he could see the blurred lights of san diego and the phosphorescent gleam of the bay and ocean beyond. beautiful beyond words was the broad view he got, but its beauty could only vaguely impress him then, though he might later recall it wistfully. he looked toward san diego with longing; looked at the two planes that hounded him, then gazed straight ahead at the ocean. perhaps they would not follow him beyond their station at north island. they would maybe circle and come back, watching for his return, or they might keep to the shore line, flying north, and thinking to head him off when he turned inland. at least, he reasoned, that is what he would do if he were following an outlaw plane and saw it head out over the ocean, straight for honolulu. so over tia juana he flew and made for the sea like a gull that has flown too far from its nesting place. he watched and saw the two planes spiraling upward, climbing to a higher altitude where it would be easy to dart down at him if he swung north. they suspected that trick, evidently, and were preparing to swoop and follow. the beach, pale yellow in the moonlight, with a riffle of white at its edge, slid beneath him. the ocean, heaving gently, rolled under, the moon reflected from its depths. cliff sat slumped down in his seat, his head tilted upon one shoulder. he had not moved nor made a sound, and his limp silence began to worry johnny. what if he had struck too hard, had killed the man? a little tremor went over him, a prickling of the scalp. killing cliff had no part in his plans, would be too horrid a mischance. he wished now that he had left him alone, had let him bluster and threaten. perhaps cliff would not have had presence of mind enough to do what johnny had feared he would do when he saw capture was inevitable: drop overboard what papers he carried that would incriminate him with the united states federal officers. with empty pockets cliff would be as free of suspicion as johnny himself--a mere passenger in a plane that had flown too far south. he would then be fairly safe in assuming that johnny would never dare to cross the line with him under the eye of those who watched from the sky. it had been the fear of that ruse that had brought johnny to the point of violence to cliff's person, but he was sorry now that he had not risked taking that chance. flying has its inconveniences, after all, for johnny could not stop to investigate the injury he had done to cliff. he would have to go on, now that he was started, but the thought that he might be flying with a dead man chilled what enthusiasm he had felt for the adventure. on over the ocean he flew until he had passed the three-mile limit which he hazily believed would bar the planes of the government unless they had express orders to follow him out. looking back, he saw that his hunters seemed content to wheel watchfully along the shore line, and presently he banked around and flew north. from the mexican line to san diego is not far--a matter of twenty miles or so. across the mouth of san diego bay, on the inner shore of which sits the town, north island stretches itself like a huge alligator lying with its back above water; a long, low, sandy expanse of barrenness that leaves only a narrow inlet between its westernmost tip and the long rocky finger of point loma. time was when north island was given over to the gulls and long-billed pelicans, and san diego valued it chiefly as a natural bulkhead that made the bay a placid harbor where the great combing rollers could not ride. but other birds came; great, roaring, man-made birds, that rose whirring from its barrenness and startled the gulls until they grew accustomed to the sight and sound of them. low houses grew in orderly rows. more of the giant birds came. nowadays the people of san diego, looking out across the bay, will sometimes look again to make sure whether the sailing object they see is an airplane or only a gull. in time the gull will flap its wings; the airplane never does. all through the day the air is filled with them--gulls and airplanes sharing amicably the island and the air above it. up from the south, with her nose pointed determinedly northward and her rudder set steady as the tail of a frozen fish, the thunder bird came humming defiantly, flying swift under the moon. over san diego bay, watching through night-glasses the outlaw bird, the two scouting planes dipped steeply toward their nesting place on north island. three planes were up with students making practice flights and doing acrobatics by moonlight. these saw one scout go down and land, saw the other circle over the field and climb higher, bearing off toward the mainland to see what the outlaw plane would do. the thunder bird swung on over the island, banked and came back over point loma, heading straight for the heart of the flying station. she was past the finlike reef where the pelicans foregather, when the searchlight brushed its white light over that way, seeking her like a groping finger; found her and transfixed her sternly with its pitiless glare. there was no hiding from that piercing gaze, no possibility of pretending that she was a government plane and flying lawfully there. for straight across her middle, from wing-tip to wing-tip, still blazoned the thunder bird in letters as bold and black as bland's brush and a quart of carriage paint could make them. she volplaned, flattened out a thousand feet or so above the island, circled as the searchlight, losing her when she dipped, sought her again with wide sweeping gestures of its accusing white finger. blinded by the glare, poor johnny was banking to find a landing place among that assemblage of tents, low-eaved barracks, hangars, shops--the city built for the purpose of teaching men how to conquer the air. something spatted close beside him on the edge of the cockpit as he wheeled and left a ragged hole in the leather. johnny's brain registered automatically the fact that he was being shot at. they probably meant that as a hint that he was to clear out or come down, one or the other. well, if they'd take that darned searchlight out of his eyes so he could see, he would come down fast enough. in desperation he slanted down steeply toward an open space, and the open space immediately showed a full border of lights, revealing itself a landing field such as he had read of and dreamed of but had never before seen. it shot up at him swiftly; too swiftly. he came down hard. there was a jolt, a bounce and another jolt that jarred the thunder bird from nose to tail. after a dazed interval much briefer than it seemed, johnny unstrapped himself and climbed out unsteadily. he looked fearfully at cliff, but there was no sign of life there. cliff's head had merely tilted from the right shoulder to the left shoulder, and rested there. uniformed young men came trotting up from all sides. two carried rifles, and their browned faces wore a look of grim eagerness, like men looking forward to a fight. johnny pushed up his goggles and stared around at them. "where's your captain or somebody that's in charge here? i want to see the foreman of this outfit, and i want to see him quick," he demanded, as the two armed young athletes hustled him between them. "here, lay off that grabbing stuff! where do you get that? i ain't figuring on any getaway. i'm merely bringing a man into camp that stacks up like a spy or something like that. better have a doctor come and take a look at him; i had to land him on the bean with my six-gun, and he acts kinda like he's hurt. he ain't moved since." "well, will you listen to that!" one of the foremost of the unarmed group grinned. "this here must be skyrider jewel, boys, no mistake about that--he's running true to form. 'nother elopement--only this time he's went and eloped with a spy, he claims." "here comes the leatherneck. you'll wish you hadn't of lit, skyrider. you'll be shot at sunrise for this, sure!" "you know it! it's a firing squad for yours, allrighty!" johnny gave them a round-eyed, disgusted glare. "they can shoot and be darned; but the boss has got to see cliff lowell and the papers he's got on him, if i have to wade through the whole hunch of you! do you fellows think, for gosh sake, i just flew over here to give you guys a treat? why, good golly! you--" "here, you come along with me and do your talking to the commandant," a gruff voice spoke at his shoulder. "and let these gobblers fool around here and maybe lose the stuff this man's got in his clothes! oh-h, no! bring him along, and i'll go. i'd sure like a chance to talk to somebody that can show a few brains on this job. that's what i came over here for. i didn't have to land, recollect." the petty officer gave an order or two. the guards fell in beside johnny with a military preciseness that impressed him to silence. from somewhere near two men trotted up with a field stretcher, and upon it cliff was laid, still unconscious. "you sure beaned him right," one of them observed, looking up at johnny with some admiration. "yes, and i'd like to bean the whole bunch of you the same way. you fellows ain't making any hit with me at all," johnny retorted uncivilly as he left under guard for headquarters. a few minutes later he was standing alone before a man whose clean-cut, military bearing, to say nothing of the insignia of rank on his uniform, awed johnny to the point of calling him "sir" and of couching his replies in his best, most grammatical english. the guards had been curtly dismissed, for which he was grateful, and he had the satisfaction of stating his case in private. johnny did not want those fellows out there to hear just how easily he had been fooled. they seemed to know altogether too much about him as it was. the commandant listened attentively to what john ivan jewel had to say. john ivan jewel had nearly finished his story when he thought of another phase of the affair, and one that had begun to worry him considerably. "i forgot to tell you about the money. i've got a good deal from them since i started. they paid me on a sliding scale, beginning with fifteen hundred dollars a week and ending with two thousand that cliff paid me this evening. i've got it all with me." prom his secret pocket johnny drew all his wealth, counted off four hundred dollars and handed the rest to his inquisitor. "this four hundred dollars is my own, that i brought from arizona," he explained, flushing a little under the keen eyes of captain riley. "this is honest money; the rest is what they paid me for flying back and forth across the line." the commandant turned the big roll of bank notes over, looking at it quizzically. "who is really entitled to this money?" he asked johnny crisply. "well, i--i don't know, sir. it's what they paid me for flying." "and did you fly as agreed upon?" "yes, sir; i made trips back and forth whenever cliff wanted me to. that is, up to the time i lit out for here, so you could see for yourself what he's up to. he ordered me to go back to schwab's place, but i wouldn't. i--i knocked him on the head and came on. but until then i flew as agreed upon." "do you feel that you earned this money?" "well--taking everything into consideration--yes, sir, i do. i think now i worked for them much cheaper than any other aviator would have done. "yes. well, you spoke of that four hundred being honest money, thus differentiating it from this money. don't you consider this is honest money? what do you mean by honest?" johnny flushed unhappily. "well, it's kinda hard to explain, but i guess i meant that i wasn't doing the right thing when i was earning that money you've got. i meant it wasn't clean money, the way i look at it now. because it was crooks i was working for, and i don't know how they got it. i worked honestly for it, for them, but the work wasn't honest with the government. it's kinda hard--" "i think i'll just give you a receipt for this. how much is it?" "there ought to be about seventy-two hundred there, all told, sir." captain riley looked at him queerly and proceeded to count the astounding wealth of john ivan jewel. then he very matter-of-factly wrote a receipt, which johnny accepted with humility, not at all sure of what the captain thought or intended. "now, tell me this. is this young man---the one you brought in--is he the only one you know who has been concerned in this--er--business? "yes, sir, on this side he is. cliff spoke about his boss several times, but he never told me who his boss was. an international news syndicate, he claimed. but i know now that was just a stall. i don't think there was any such thing. there's a mexican, mateo, down where we kept the plane--" "mateo--yes, we have mateo." captain riley sat drumming his fingers gently on the table, studying johnny with his chin dropped a little so that he looked up under his eyebrows, which grew long, unruly hairs here and there. johnny's eyes rounded with surprise. he wanted to ask how they had come to suspect mateo when they had seemed so unsuspicious, but he let it go. "there's another one, named schwab, over in mexico where we always went," he divulged. "he's the one cliff got those papers from--whatever they were. and he's the one that expects to get some money in the morning. i heard that much. i--i could get him, too," he added tentatively. "out of mexico?" captain riley stirred slightly in the chair. "yes, sir. i'm pretty sure i could. i was planning to nab him, if you'd let me." "you mean you could bring him--as you brought this man lowell?" johnny's lips tightened. "if i had to--yes, sir. i'd knock him on the head same as i did cliff. only i wouldn't hit quite so hard next time." captain riley bit his lip. "better hit hard if you hit at all," he advised. "that's a very good rule to remember. it applies to a great many things." then he straightened his shoulders a bit and called his orderly, who again impressed johnny with his military preciseness when he stood at attention and saluted. captain riley's whole manner seemed to stiffen to that military preciseness, though johnny had thought him stiff enough before. "detain this man," he commanded crisply, "until further orders. if he is hungry, feed him; and see that he has a decent place to sleep. the petty officers' quarters will do." he watched the perturbed john ivan jewel depart under guard, and his eyes were not half so stern as his tone had been. then he reached for his desk 'phone and called up the repair shop. "run that thunder bird plane into the shop and repair it to-night," he commanded. "you will probably need to shift motors, but preserve the present appearance of the plane absolutely. it must be ready to fly at sunrise." then, being all alone where he could afford to be just a human being, he grinned to himself, "so-ome boy," he chuckled. "hope he doesn't lose any sleep to-night. so-ome boy." chapter twenty-four the thunder bird's last flight for johnny over north island the high, clear notes of the bugle sounding reveille woke johnny. immediately afterward a guard appeared to take him in charge, from which johnny gathered that he was still being "detained." he did not want to be detained, and he did not feel that they had any right to detain him. he flopped over and pulled the blankets over his ears. "here, you get up. captain wants you brought before him right after chow, and that's coming along soon as you can get into your pants. you better be steppin'." "aw, what's he want to see me for?" johnny growled. it would be much pleasanter to go back to his dream of mary v. "why, to shoot you, stupid. whadda yuh think?" "i'd hate to tell yuh right to your face, but at that i may force myself to it if you hang around long enough," johnny retorted, getting into his clothes hurriedly, for the morning was chill and bleak. "where's that chuck you was talking about? say, good golly, but you're a sorry looking bird. i'm sure glad i ain't a soldier." "whadda yuh mean, glad? it takes a man to do man-size work. that's what i mean. wait till about twelve of us stand before yuh waiting for the word! lucky for you this sand makes soft digging, or you wouldn't have pep enough left to dig your own grave, see." "you seem to know. is yours dug already? they musta had you at it last night." the guard grinned and suspended hostilities until after johnny had eaten, when he led him out and across to where johnny's inquisitor of the night before awaited his coming. captain riley was not so terrifying by daylight. for one thing, he betrayed the fact that he wore large, light-tan freckles, and johnny never did feel much awe of freckles. captain riley also wore a smile, and he was smoking a cigar when johnny went in. "good morning, mr. jewel. i hope you slept well." "i guess i did---i never stayed awake to see," johnny told him quite boldly for a youth who had blushed and said "sir" to this man last night. "you landed pretty hard last night, i hear." "why--yes, i guess i did. it looked to me around here last night as though i had fallen down bad." "and what has made you so cheerful this morning?" captain riley actually grinned at johnny. he could afford to, since johnny was not in service and therefore need not be reminded constantly of the difference between officer and man. "i dunno--unless maybe it's because the worst is done and can't be helped, so there's no use worrying about it." "well, i can't agree with you, young man. you may possibly do worse to-day. last night, for instance, you brought in a man who has been very much wanted by the government. we did not know that he was the man until you landed with him, but certain papers he carried furnished what proof we needed. you spoke of another--a man named schwab. now i am not going to ask you to bring him in. he is in mexico, and the laws of neutrality must be preserved. i shall have nothing whatever to do with the matter. i wish he were on this side, though. there's quite a good-sized reward offered for his arrest--in case he ever does get back on our side of the line." "mhm-hmh--i--see," said johnny, in his best, round-eyed judicial manner. "yes. he's a criminal of several sorts, among them the crime of meddling with the government. he's over there now--where he can do the most harm. "y-ess--he's over there--_now_," johnny agreed guardedly. "however, i can't send you over after him, i am sorry to say. it is impossible. if ever he comes back, though--" "he'd be welcome," johnny finished with a grin. "we'd never part with him again," the captain agreed cheerfully. "well, that thunder bird plane of yours had quite a jolt, from the report. you cracked the crank-case for one thing, and broke the tail. i had the plane run in and repaired last night, so it's all ready now for you to go up. we really are much in your debt for bringing in this man lowell; though your manner of doing it was rather unusual, i must admit. are you--er--ready to fly?" "fly where?" johnny nerved himself to ask, though he knew well enough where he intended to fly. "fly away from north island," smiled captain riley, who was not to be caught. "civilian planes are not permitted here." "if i come back would i be shot at?" "oh, no--i think not, so long as you come peacefully." "i'll come peacefully all right; what i'm wondering now is, will the other fellow?" johnny looked toward the door suggestively. captain riley laughed and rose to his feet. "young man, you seem to know a sure way of making men peaceful! they tell me that cliff lowell came to himself about two o'clock this morning. for awhile they thought you had finished him." "well, it's time all good flyers were in the air; i'll go with you and see you start. i'm rather curious over that thunder bird of yours. i want a look at her." in his youth and innocence--john ivan jewel wondered why it was that the soldiers looked astonished even while they saluted their commanding officer. he did not know that he was being especially honored by captain riley, which is perhaps a good thing. it saved him a good deal of embarrassment and left him so much at ease that he could talk to the captain almost as freely as if he had not worn a uniform. "good-by--and good luck," said captain riley, and shook hands with johnny. "i'll be glad to see you again--and, by the way, i'm just keeping that money until you call for it." johnny climbed in and settled himself, then leaned over the edge where the bullet had nicked so that his words would not carry to the man waiting to crank the motor. "i'll call for that money in about two hours," he said. "i ain't saying good-by, captain. i'll see yuh later." captain riley stood smiling to himself while he watched the thunder bird take the air. that it took the air smoothly, spiraling upward as gracefully as any of his young flyers could do, did not escape him. nor did the steadiness with which it finally swung away to the southeast. "that boy's a born flyer," he observed to his favorite first lieutenant, who just happened to be standing near. "they say he never has had any training under an instructor. he just _flew_. he'll make good--a kid like that is bound to." up in the thunder bird johnny was thinking quite different thoughts. "he thinks i won't be able to deliver the goods. he was nice and friendly, all right--good golly, he'd oughta be! he admitted right out plain that they wanted cliff bad. but he's hanging on to my money so he'll have some hold over me if i don't bring in schwab for him. and if i don't, and go back for my money, he'll--well, firing squad won't be any kidding, is what i mean. "o-h-h, no! captain riley can't fool me! wouldn't tell me to get schwab over here--didn't dare tell me. but he makes it worth a whole lot to me to get him, just the same. he knows darn well if i don't i'll never dare to go back, and he'll be over seven thousand dollars better off." johnny, you will observe, had quite forgotten that receipt in his pocket, which captain riley might find it hard to explain if he attempted to withhold the money. his doubt of the captain increased when, looking back, he spied two swift scouting planes scudding along a mile or two behind him. that they might be considered a guard of honor rather than spies sent out to see that he did not play false never occurred to him. "aw, you think maybe i won't do it!" he snorted angrily, his young vanity hurt. "all right, tag along and be darned. i'll have schwab and be flying back again before you can bank around to fly hack and tattle where i went. that's what i mean. i ain't going to be done outa no seven thousand dollars; i'll tell the world i ain't." getting schwab was absurdly simple, just as johnny had felt sure it would be. he flew to where he would be expected to cross the line had he come from los angeles. schwab would be impatient, anxious to get in his fingers the money cliff was supposed to bring. he did not wait at the house, but came out to meet the thunder bird. johnny had been sure that he would do that very thing. to keep the nose of the thunder bird toward schwab so that he could not see that only one man returned with her was simple. until he was close schwab did not suspect that cliff was not along. even then he was not suspicious, but came hurrying up to know why johnny came alone. schwab wanted that money--they always do. "where's my man?" he demanded of johnny, who had brought the landing gear against an old fence post used to block the wheels, and shut the motor off as much as he could and keep it running. "your man is sick." which was true enough; cliff was a very sick man that morning. "you'll have to come to him. get in--it won't take long." schwab hung back a little, not from fear of johnny but because he had no stomach for flying. "well, but didn't he send--" "he didn't send a darned thing but me. he wouldn't trust me to bring anything else. get in. i'm in a hurry." "what's the matter with him? he was all right last night." still schwab hung back. "i'll wait until he can come. i--i can't leave." then he found himself looking up into the barrel of johnny's six-shooter. "i was told to bring you back with me. get in, i said." "this is some trick! i--" "you get--_in_!" so schwab climbed in awkwardly, his face mottled and flabby with fear of the thunder bird. "fasten that strap around you--be sure it's fast. and put on this cap and goggles if you like. and sit still." then he called to the languid mexican who was idly watching him from afar. "hey! come and pull the block away from the wheels." the mexican came trotting, the silver of the night before clinking in his overalls pocket. grinning hopefully, he picked up the post and carried it to one side. but johnny was not thinking then of tips. he let in the motor until the thunder bird went teetering around in a wide half circle and scudded down the level stretch, taking the air easily. "this is an outrage!" schwab shouted. "where are you taking me?" "oh, up in the air a ways," johnny told him, but the roar of the motor so filled schwab's unaccustomed ears that he could hear nothing else. and presently his mind became engrossed with something more immediately vital than was his destination. they were getting too high up, he shouted. johnny must come down at once--or if he would not do that, at least he must fly lower. did johnny mean to commit suicide? for answer johnny grinned and went higher, and the face of schwab became not mottled but a sickly white. he sat gripping the edges of the cockpit and gazing fearfully downward, save when he turned to implore, threaten, and command. he would report johnny to his employers. he could make him sorry for this. he would make it worth his while to land. he would do great things for johnny--he would make him rich. from five thousand feet johnny volplaned steeply to four thousand, and schwab's sentences became disconnected phrases that ended mostly in exclamation points. so pleased was johnny with the effect that he flew in scallops from there on--not unmindful of the two scouting planes that picked him up when he recrossed the line and dogged him from there on. "i suppose," snorted johnny to the thunder bird, "they think they're about the only real flyers in the air this morning. what? can't you show 'em an arizona sample of flying? what you loafing for? think you're heading a funeral? well, now, this is just about the proudest moment you've spent for quite some time. this man schwab---he craves excitement. can't you hear him holler for thrills? and don't you reckon that captain riley will be cocking an eye up at the sky about now, looking to see you come back. come, come--shake a wing, here, and show 'em what you're good for!" whether the thunder bird heard and actually did shake a wing does not matter. johnny remembered that he had yet some miles to fly, and proceeded to put those miles behind him in as straight a line as possible. schwab's voice came back to him in snatches, though the words were mostly foreign to johnny's ears. schwab seemed to be indulging in expletives of some sort. "don't worry, sauerkraut, we'll show you a good time soon as we get along a few miles. there's some birds behind us i'm leading home first." "my god, don't go straight down again! it makes me sick," wailed schwab. "does? oh, glory! that ain't nothing when you get used to it, man. be a regular guy and like it. i'll _make_ you like it, by golly. come on, now--here's san diego--let's give 'em a treat, sauerkraut. you never knew you'd turn out to be a stunt flyer, hey? well, now, how's this?" "whee-ee! see the town right down there? head for it and keep a-goin', old girl! _whee-ee_! now, here it goes, sliding right up over our heads! loop 'er, thunder bird, loop 'er! you're the little old plane from arizona that's rode the thunder and made it growl it had enough! in mexico i got yuh, and to mexico you went and got me a regular jailbird that uncle sammy wants. you're takin' him to camp--whoo-ee! give your tail a flop and over yuh go like a doggone tumbleweed in the wind! "come on, you little ole cop planes that thinks you're campin' on my trail! you'll have to ride and whip 'em, now i'm tellin' yuh, if you want to keep in sight of our dust! sunfish for 'em, you doggone thunder bird! you're the flyin' bronk from arizona, and it's your day to fly!" with the first loop schwab went sick, and after that he had no wish except to die. whether the thunder bird rode head down or tail down he neither knew nor cared. nor did johnny. as he yelled he looped and he dived, he did tail spins and every other spin that occurred to him. for the time being he was "riding straight up and fanning her ears," and his aerial bronk was pulling off stunts he would never have attempted in cold blood. he thought it a shame to have to stop, but north island was there beneath him, a flock of planes were keeping out of his way and forgetting their own acrobatics while they watched him, and johnny, with an eye on his gas gauge and his mind recurring to his parting words with captain riley, straightened out reluctantly and got his bearings. there was room enough for one more nose dive, and he took it exuberantly, trying to see how many turns he could make before he must quit or smash into a building or something. there was the field, just ahead of him. he flattened, banked, and came down circumspectly enough, considering how his head was whirling when he finally came to a stand. he crawled out, looking first at schwab to see what he was doing. what schwab was doing has no bearing whatever on this story. schwab was not feeling well, wherefore he was not showing any interest whatever in his surroundings and probable future. john ivan jewel laughed unfeelingly while he beckoned a guard who was coming up at a trot and needed no beckoning. "here's another man for your boss to take charge of," johnny announced. "and lead me to him right now. i've got a date with him." this guard was a new guard and looked dubious. but presently the captain's orderly appeared and took charge of the situation, so johnny straight-way found himself standing before captain riley "well, i'm back," he announced cheerfully. "and i've got schwab out there." captain riley dismissed the orderly before he unbent enough to reply. but then he shook hands with john ivan jewel just as though he had not seen him a couple of hours before. he was a very pleased captain riley, as he showed by the broad grin he wore on his freckled irish face. "schwab," he said, "will be taken care of. he's a deserter from the army, you know. held a captaincy and disgraced the uniform in various ways, the crowning infamy being the sale of some important information, a year or so ago when things were at the touchiest point with mexico. we nearly had him, but he deserted and got across the line, and since then he has been raising all kinds of cain in government affairs. of course, his capture is a little out of my line, but i don't mind telling you that it's a big thing for me to have both these men turned over to me. i can't go into details, of course--you would not be especially interested in them if i could. but it's a big thing, and i want you to know--" the telephone interrupted him, and he turned to answer it. "yes, yes, this is captain riley speaking. yes, who is this, please? who? oh, yes! yes, indeed, no trouble at all, i assure you. yes, i will give the message--yes, certainly. i shall send him right over. at your command, believe me. not at all--i am delighted, yes; just one moment. would you like to talk with him yourself? just hold the line, please." one should not accuse a man like captain riley of smirking, but his smile might have been mistaken for a smirk when he turned from the telephone. he straightened it out at once, however, so that he spoke with a mere twinkle to johnny. "some one in san diego," he said, "would like to speak with you. i judge it's important." chapter twenty-five over the telephone "hello?" cried johnny, wondering vaguely who could be calling him from san diego. "oh--who? mary v! why, good golly, where did you come from? . . . oh, you did? . . . say, that was some bronk-riding i did up there among the clouds--what? . . . oh, yes, i just happened to feel that way." in the u.s. grant hotel mary v was talking excitedly into the 'phone. "i don't know why i happened to drive down here, but i did, and i just got here in time to see you come flying over and then you did all those flip-flops--johnny jewel, do you mean to tell me _that's_ the way you have been acting all the time?" "oh, no--i happened to have a fellow along that i wanted to give him a treat!" "a _treat_! do you call that a treat, for gracious sake? what are you doing over there? i want you to come over here just as quick as ever you can, johnny. bland is here; i brought him down with me because he's a very good mechanic and besides, he was very much worried and trying to find you, so i thought he could help, and he did. he saw the thunder bird come sailing overhead before i noticed it, for i was driving, and a street car was hogging the crossing and trying to head me off, so i didn't happen to look up just then. and when i did--why, johnny, i thought sure you were coming right down on top of us! did you do that deliberately just to scare me, you bad boy? now you come right over here just as quick as ever you can! i am sure i have been kept waiting long enough--" "you have," johnny agreed promptly. "i'm coming, mary v, and when i get there you're going to marry me or i'll turn the town bottom side up. you get that, do you? your dad ain't going to head us off this time, i've made good, and doggone him, i can pay that note and have enough left over to buy me an airplane, or you an automobile or both, by golly! and tell bland i'll make it all right with him, too. i kinda left him in the lurch for awhile, but i couldn't help that. i've been thinking, mary v, what i'll do. i'm going to give bland the thunder bird. doggone it, he's done a whole lot for me, and i guess he's got it coming. there's planes here that can fly circles around the old thunder bird, and i'm going to have one or break a leg. i'll . . . what's that? . . . oh, all right, i'll come on and do my talking later. being a government line, i guess maybe i'd better not hold this telephone all day. sure, i'm crazy to see you! all right, all right, i'm coming right now!" "with apologies for overhearing a private conversation," said captain riley, "speaking of getting a new plane, why don't you enlist as an aviator? i can use you very nicely and would like to have you here. how would a second lieutenancy strike you, jewel? i can arrange it for you very easily--and let me tell you something: before many months roll by it will be a matter of patriotism to serve your country. we shall be at war before long, unless i miss my guess. better come in now. you--your being married will not interfere, i should think--seeing you intend to continue flying, anyway. i wonder, by the way, why i am not invited to be present at that wedding?" "well, good golly! you're invited right now, if you mean you'll go. mary v will be one proud little girl, all right. and say, captain, of course i'll have to talk it over with mary v first, but that offer you just made me sure listens good. i tried to enlist--that's what i wanted all along--but i was turned down. but if you'll say a word for me--" "your mary v is wanting," captain riley grinned. "and if i may judge from the brief conversation i had with her over the 'phone just now, we had better be on our way!" aviation ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the sky pilot's great chase or jack ralston's dead stick landing by ambrose newcomb author of "the sky detectives," "eagles of the sky," "wings over the rockies," etc. published by the goldsmith publishing co. chicago ------------------------------------------------------------------------ copyright the goldsmith publishing co. made in u.s.a. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ contents i the clang of the fire-bell ii trapped by the flames iii bridging the gap iv the rescue v at the flying field vi a blow in the dark vii perk hears thrilling news viii the take-off ix a broken paddle x in a snug harbor xi a stormy night xii the lay-over at spokane xiii over the mountain trails xiv the bootleg pack-mule train xv winging into the northland xvi baffled by head winds xvii jack's dead-stick landing xviii around the campfire xix perk gets a shock xx the fur-trading station xxi old jimmy, the factor xxii picking up clues xxiii the northwest mounted police xxiv ready to start xxv an overnight bivouac xxvi the wolf pack xxvii on the dangerous trail xxviii dodging the lookout xxix the hawk at bay xxx back over the border--conclusion ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the sky pilot's great chase chapter i the clang of the fire bell "well, i kinder guess now this here little ol' ho-tel in salt lake city's got our experience in cheyenne knocked all to flinders. good room, twin beds that keep you from hoggin' all the covers on a cool night an' as to _eats_, say it's sure prime stuff, though mebbe i ain't no judge 'long any line 'cept quantity. how 'bout it, jack, ol' hoss?" the happy-go-lucky speaker was an old friend of ours, one perk, and the companion to whom he addressed his question was his bosom pal, jack ralston of the u. s. secret service. nevertheless, it seemed that perk was now known as gabe smith, a woods guide of wide experience who in the course of his wanderings had managed to pick up a smattering of aviation, a particularly useful thing in these air-minded days. and jack, whenever there was a third party within hearing, was always referred to as mr. john jacob astorbilt, a wideawake young millionaire sportsman always seeking novel thrills hunting big game by means of the latest type airship. all this had a good and sufficient reason back of it, which will be placed before the reader ere we have gone deeply into this log covering the latest undertaking of the two redoubtable sky detectives. "oh! things suit me okay, perk," was jack's rather indifferent reply, as he smiled at his companion's grinning, enthusiastic face. "somehow i don't seem to set quite as much store by my meals as you do but i'll say the food is pretty decent--better than the restaurant stuff we used to eat three times a day over in old cheyenne." "hot ziggety dog! i should say so. but what tickles me most of all, partner, is the dandy ship uncle sam turned over to us after we climbed out o' all that hot stuff down on the west coast o' florida. she's a genuine cloud-chaser, boy, an' don't take any guy's dust--am i right 'bout that, boss?" "i'll admit she's a prize boat and no mistake. able to drop down on land or water and with skis in place could do the same on a frozen lake or the deepest snow the northland ever saw. yes, it would be hard to beat our ship, perk." "right up to date she is. look at the shiny aluminum pontoons an' rubber tired wheels peekin' out from the bow ends. the hamilton propeller that does its stuff to the dot; a real hasler telmot flight meter; aluminum oil tanks so light and yet so strong; earth-inducter compass next to infallible; eclipse starter--gosh amighty, if there's a single thing worth its salt that our ship ain't got i'd like to hear 'bout it." jack laughed. he had a whole-souled laugh that did any one good just to hear it--kind of gave you a warm feeling and seemed to draw you into friendly relations with the clear-eyed young aviator. "just one thing lacking, partner, in the round-up if you stop to think of it. we felt the need of it on our last jaunt[ ] when in the midst of the most dreadful fog-belt either of us had ever struck, we climbed to a ten thousand foot ceiling only to have ice begin to form on our wings. haven't forgotten that, eh, perk old fellow?" "ginger pop an' the weasel! i guess now i ain't. you've crabbed my game, buddy, that's what you've done. but as we ain't, so far, been sent to the south pole to help get an explorer out o' his bad fix in the ice, i kinder guess we don't need that ice meltin' device much. got to draw a line somewhere you know, boss, else the ship'll be so loaded down with new contraptions there won't be any storage room for the grub-pile!" "and sure enough that's where the shoe would pinch, perk. grub, and plenty of it is the real necessity to have aboard. it bobs up just three times a day right along and with mighty long waits between according to your way of looking at it." "you said it, partner! i've tried goin' shy on the eats but it don't seem to work worth a red cent. right away there's a mutiny breaks put under the midship hatch an' i jest _got_ to surrender. but, to change the subject, i'm botherin' my poor brain tryin' to figger out which way we'll face when the orders come breezin' along?" jack chuckled as he lolled back in his comfortable easy-chair for they chanced to be sitting in their third-floor hotel room while engaging in this little confab. "it's a toss-up i'd say, perk," he remarked a bit mysteriously. "you know the whole wide world is our hunting ground as you've so often boasted. international crooks breed a like species of detectives. when they take to flying, the secret service has to go them one better. our familiarity with airships helped to rustle this job for us and we've got to make good, no matter whether we fly to japan, india, south africa or any other old country under the sun." perk displayed the proper amount of enthusiasm as this wide subject came along, for his eyes sparkled, and he grinned broadly. "you bet, jack ol' hoss," he blurted out, "an' like's not the slick way we put through that last deal down on the west florida coast, fetchin' the king o' booze smugglers back with us to the bar o' justice has made us solid with the head at washington."[ ] "i shouldn't wonder buddy," was all jack said, not being given to blowing his own horn as perk often did, being only human as he would explain, and knowing a good thing when he saw it. "we dropped in at this 'ere airport," perk continued, "'cordin' to orders a hull week back, sailin' under new names to hide our identities an' here we be, killin' time an' waitin' to make a bee line for any place that happens to be in need o' cleanin' up. we're the boss outfit for that sorter job, on'y i'd give a heap to know what's what." "that's a weakness of yours, perk. now in my case it doesn't give me one minute's uneasiness. whether i'm working in paris, cairo or timbuktu makes no difference, i calculate on getting enough to eat, pick up plenty of sleep and beat the game if its possible. nothing else will satisfy me, as you pretty well know, brother." "when i happen to wake up in the small hours o' the night, jack, i just get bothered 'bout the next layout and sometimes wonder if i'm right then an' there across the pacific or playin' a swift game down in nicaragua f'r instance. feels a whole lot like we might be reg'lar gypsies, changin' our camp every night." "well, what of it?" demanded jack, looking vastly amused. "it wouldn't be the first time that name was applied to me for you remember when i first broke into this game it was as a gypsy pilot, doing stunts with my 'chute at county fairs and harvest homes all around the country. that name always did sound kind of sweet in my ears. i like it to this day, in fact." "mebbe now, it might be that you could give a sorter guess 'bout that job we're goin' to have tacked on to us right away? how 'bout it, old hoss?" "oh! that doesn't concern me one whit, perk. just hold your horses and take things as they come. there's a bit of fun being kept in the dark about these affairs. makes me think of the times we used to have grab-bags at church fairs, when you paid a penny or a nickel and pulled out something queer. say, didn't we feel a great big thrill just before making the grab? take things easy and let the folks at headquarters do most of the worrying. that's what i call logic, buddy." "huh! mebbe so," grunted perk, eyeing his comrade quizzically as though more than half suspecting that if jack chose, at least he could give a fairly good guess covering their next thrilling assignment. "but that sorter philosophy don't cut any figger when i lie awake nights cudgelin' my slow-workin' brains an' tryin' to get the answer. but then, like as not, we ain't goin' to stick to this queer old burg much longer an' i sure do hope the wire givin' us full directions in cipher comes along right soon." jack ralston, as the readers of the three preceding stories in this series of sky detective adventures already know, had been building up quite an enviable reputation in the secret service of the government, being entrusted with a number of the most important tasks that were cropping up from time to time. these necessitated not only a cool head, quick decisions and plenty of nerve, but also demanded a thorough knowledge of aeronautics, since many malefactors in these very modern days were taking to the air in order to facilitate their unlawful operations so that it had become necessary to meet them on their own grounds and go them one better. his best pal was gabe perkiser, whose odd name was usually shortened to perk. he was fully ten years older than jack and at the time our country entered the world war chanced to be connected with the balloon corps so that for some time he found himself a manipulator of an observation balloon, better known as a "sausage." tiring of this monotonous life, the active perk took up aviation. here he was in his element and few there were during those mad months when the american army was breaking the hindenburg line and pushing through the terrible thickets and machine-gun nests of the argonne, who attained a higher rating as a fearless pilot than gabe perkiser. he had numerous glorious victories to his credit, having sent down many enemy flyers in blazing coffins but eventually met with a serious mishap that sent him to a field hospital and kept him out of the rest of that frightful campaign. recovering in due time, perk had come back to the states bent on securing some sort of employment that would give him all the excitement his system demanded. this he found when he joined the northwest mounted police of canada. the fact that one of his parents had been born across the line while the other was a maine yankee, gave perk the opening he desired and his yearning for adventure after that was never left unsatisfied. but after a while he even began to tire of such a lonely life as his duties entailed and floated down once more to the country of his birth. there by some happy accident jack ran across him and recognizing a kindred spirit, he induced perk to apply for a position in the secret service. still later, when he had been detailed to make use of his ability as an air pilot to carry on with a certain job that had been placed in his hands, jack remembered perk. it was essential that he have an assistant aboard his ship and so he negotiated matters so that perk was ordered to report to him and act as co-pilot for an indefinite length of time, an arrangement that gave both the greatest satisfaction possible. they were after all a well matched pair. what one lacked the other possessed in abundance. jack was able to hold his more impulsive comrade in check when safety first became their watchword, and on the other hand when a show of dash and vigor was the order of the day, perk was apt to take the lead and strike terror in the hearts of the enemy. naturally enough inaction became irksome to perk and he fretted because he loathed remaining quiet when his whole system was calling for accomplishing things. jack, of course, was the one who laid out the plan of campaign, he being much better fitted for such essential matters. perk on the other hand really needed some one above to give him the order and check his impulsiveness on occasion. so they got on together admirably, and worked like a well matched team. to be sure jack sometimes knew a bit more than he chose to tell perk but he always had good and sufficient reasons for holding back such information and his lack of knowledge, until such time as his leader saw fit to take him wholly into his confidence, did perk no harm whatever. it did, however, cause him to lie awake nights wondering and speculating as to what would be next on the program. he would try his best to tempt jack to commit himself but all to no purpose, for the other put him off with one plea or another with perk returning to the attack time and again. they had had their wonderfully efficient plane lodged in a hangar out at the flying field where just so often each day an air-mail pilot was scheduled to arrive or depart with the letter sacks of the post office department. this courtesy had been bestowed upon them by a mr. spencer gibbons a private flyer and a man of considerable means who came and went as his fancy dictated. he had met jack while the latter, under strict injunctions from the department, was posing as a young and enthusiastic air-minded millionaire and had given him the use of the single-ship hangar while he, gibbons, was off on a jaunt that took him down to the mexican border, but as he was expected back at any time now they had changed the location of their amphibian that same afternoon. it now rested secure in another nearby hangar that happened to be empty and which jack could hire, being liberally supplied with funds by his generous employer, uncle sam. this was only a minor incident, and yet it was fated to play an important part in the general network of things, and hence to be the cause of many speculations on the part of the two chums. perk, acting under the direction of his mate, had taken a vast amount of pleasure in loading up a supply of commodities. these consisted of the ordinary supplies, such as an old and experienced camper would be apt to put down on his list and possibly a few special dainties that particularly appealed to perk's appetite and which he meant to spring upon his fellow flyer at some convenient time when both of them happened to be ravenously hungry and there came a chance to build a cooking fire. then too, it was always their day by day plan to keep a full stock of fuel and lubricating oil aboard their boat since there never would be much warning given them when the order to hop-off came by telegraph. they seldom allowed a favorable flying day to pass by without going aloft in order to keep in practice and also be certain the precious ship was in first class condition for immediate service. as they had not had possession of the wonder plane for any great length of time, jack was always finding out some fresh discovery calculated to increase his admiration for his craft and evoke a volley of expressions from the voluble perk. the sun had already set and dusk was beginning to gather, telling them it was about time to descend to the dining room and partake of their customary evening meal. after that perk would doubtless wander around to the nearest moving-picture palace and allow his feverish soul to have full swing in the excitement depicted on the silver screen. just then there came along one of those little incidents that sometimes turn out to have unsuspected potentialities. perk seemed to catch it first, for he jumped up and broke loose by crying: "hear that, partner? the fire alarm as sure as you're born and me, always like a little kid, crazy to run with the engine and watch the fire boys go through with their thrillin' stunts. come along, buddy--supper c'n wait a bit for us an' we'll be all the hungrier at that. snatch up your hat an' let's go!" ----- footnote : see "wings over the rockies." footnote : see "eagles of the sky." ii trapped by the flames jack seemed perfectly willing to accompany his chum, even if it did put a damper on their supper. possibly he was like the vast majority of american youngsters in his youth, and could never resist the lure of a fire. accordingly they hurried down to the lower floor and dashed outside. "which way now, partner?" gasped perk who was a bit short of wind after making that rush downstairs, not waiting to use the elevator. "i don't see any glow in the sky to tell where the blaze c'n be." "follow the crowd--that's our only cue, perk," jack hastened to say. "listen to all that row--must be a fire engine heading to the spot; ought to set us right, i reckon." "sure thing, boss an' here she comes a rushin' along like an express train--no hosses though, these days which knocks a whole lot o' the picture silly. on your way, john jacob, i'm with you!" they ran like deer, side by side. others were streaming ahead, everybody displaying the utmost zeal to get to the fire before the conflagration was smothered by the streams of water turned on it. perk was in his glory--this sort of thing appealed to his nature as a pond would to a flock of thirsty ducks. only for his lack of wind he might have indulged in a few cowboy whoops as he tore up one street and down another, touching elbows with his pard and eagerly straining his eyes in the hope of presently detecting a gust of smoke that would proclaim their arrival at the scene of operations. "thar she blows!" perk suddenly gasped, "see that black smudge blowin' in from a side street ol' hoss? jest one more burst an' we'll be johnny on the spot! wow! ain't this glorious sport though?" jack made no answer, since there was nothing to say and he needed all his breath to keep going, not yet having caught his second wind. already a large crowd had gathered and was milling this way and that, trying in every way possible to catch a better view of the house that was the object of all these activities. several engines had arrived and were making a great noise as they began to throw streams of water on the imperiled building as well as its near neighbors that would soon be in danger should the fire get a better start. "whee! smoke aplenty but so far i don't lamp any fire," perk was saying in disjointed fragments as he and jack stopped running and commenced to make their way through gaps in the moving crowds. "a four-story frame building," observed jack as though that fact gripped his attention first of all, "and looks like it might be a tenement in the bargain." "i kinder guess you're 'bout right there, partner." perk chimed in. "see the women and kids huddled up over yonder, some o' 'em holdin' bundles o' stuff they've grabbed up when they hurried to get out! ain't that too bad, though--the poor things, to git burned out o' their homes." it was a picture well calculated to wring the heart of a softy like perk. apparently all of the tenants had managed to get clear of the smoke-filled halls for the police officers standing guard at the exit were preventing any of the wildly excited women from rushing back into the building, doubtless with the intention of saving some beloved article which had a value in their eyes far in excess of its intrinsic one. although they fought desperately to push past, the stern guardians of the law stood between and held them back, as if acting under the belief that such an act would be sheer suicide with all that dense smoke filling the halls and stairways. "there, i saw a flash of flame jest then, jack!" suddenly ejaculated perk and if there was a little tinge of satisfaction in his voice it was hardly to be wondered at, the old boyish spirit rising up superior to his feeling of sympathy for the unfortunate families thus dispossessed of their humble homes. jack himself had noted the fact, although he made no remark, only shook his head sadly as if recognizing the fact that despite the fight put up by the fire laddies the frame building was very likely doomed. they stood there and watched operations for some little time meanwhile other engines had come up, attached their hose to convenient hydrants and added fresh streams to those already drenching the buildings. "hot ziggetty dog! this here is gettin' some monotonous, partner," perk finally remarked, "mebbe after all we'd show good sense by hikin' back to the hotel and tacklin' that grub." "don't be in such a big hurry, buddy," objected the other who usually did prove to be some sticker, as perk often observed, "since we've gone and made the run we ought to see a bit more of the fire. supper will keep and besides, you're likely to have a bigger vacuum to be filled. what say to taking a turn around and getting a view from another quarter?" "that ain't a bad idea boy, let's get a move on," agreed perk who always liked a change of base when it promised further novelty. "come this way then," jack told him, starting to the left, "the crowd thins out off yonder, and we'll be able to push through much easier. they still keep on coming though; men, women and lots of children who'd be better off at home i reckon still, what would you have? chances are the average kid is just as wild to run with the fire engine as when we went into action!" "seems like it," chuckled perk, grinning amiably at a bunch of half-grown lads who had just come up and were staring goggle-eyed at the red streaks of leaping fire that appeared frequently amidst all the dense smoke. jack had been right in choosing to take the left turn, for they presently had everything to themselves. evidently the other side of the building presented the most picturesque part of the conflagration, for hardly a straggler was met as they pursued their way. "here's the rear of the tenement," jack remarked in a loud voice for the assembled steamers were kicking up so much noise that it was not easy to make himself heard. "see, they're trying to wet down the building that backs up so close to the one that's afire. it's a four-story one at that and luckily built of brick, which may save it from catching fire." there seemed to be a rear entrance for a cop was standing guard there, apparently to keep any frantic tenant from rushing inside in the mad hope of rescuing some cherished object that had been forgotten in the frantic dash from the building earlier in the evening. flames were now coming out of several windows in the upper part of the doomed structure. on seeing this jack lost all hope of the house being saved through the heroic efforts of the striving firemen. "it's bound to go, perk," he remarked, "i'm sorry for those poor families that stand to lose everything they've got in the wide world. such as they never have a red cent of fire insurance. look at that burst of flame will you? small chance anybody'd have if they were unfortunate enough to get trapped up there!" "ugh! don't mention it, partner!" cried the shocked perk, his gaze fixed on the red tongues that kept flickering out of the upper windows like angry demons. "many a time i've dreamed i was in a fire-trap like this here, an' had to slide down the water-pipe with greedy fingers like them flames up there settin' my clothes afire, singein' my hair and eyebrows an' nigh chokin' me in the bargain. i'll dream o' this for a month o' sundays but ain't it a thrillin' sight though?" that was just like honest-hearted perk--filled with pity for those who stood to lose all their scanty earthly possessions, yet fascinated and duly thrilled by the fire itself and the whole surrounding panorama. a minute afterwards perk burst out in most intense excitement, gripping his chum's arm with a strained clutch as he cried: "je-ru-sa-lem crickets! now ain't that a danged shame though?" "what do you mean buddy?" demanded jack, also thrilled. "up yonder at that third-story window where the smoke's comin' out in big whoops--i certain sure did see a poor woman reach out, wringin' her hands like she was hopin' they started to set the ladders up--then she fell back again in the smoke--oh! jack, she's goin' to be smothered an' burned to a crisp if nobody c'n get to her in time!" iii bridging the gap "which window, perk?" cried the startled jack, staring upward. "that one--third from the further end--gee whiz! like i might be in a cutout--brain all in a mixup--what c'n we do, boss--knock that cop over an' skoot upstairs?" "not any of that stuff, buddy," jack told the impulsive one in his impressive fashion. "he represents the law, and so do we. besides, look at the smoke rolling out of that rear door, it would be the last of us if we started that fool racket." "but--somethin's _got_ to be done, jack--we jest can't stand here and let a poor woman be burned to death. do somethin' partner, 'cause i'm flyin' blind in a messy fog and can't see where i ought to head." his voice and manner were both imploring, and jack could not but be impressed by the gravity of the occasion. "sure you saw some one are you, perk?" he demanded. "jack, i got good eyesight, an'--looky there, right now, she's back at the same window an' _will_ you b'lieve me if she ain't got a kid alongside her? wouldn't that jar you, ol' hoss?" jack no longer entertained any doubt regarding the truth of what his comrade had seen for he too could dimly make out moving figures at the third window from the end of the burning tenement. "they're makin' motions to us right now!" sang out the greatly distressed perk in new agony of mind. "i swan if i don't think they're meanin' to make the jump an' it'd be a crack-up dead sure!" startled by his own works perk began to make violent gestures, as though endeavoring to warn the frightened woman not to dream of jumping. "hold your hosses--we'll get goin' an' have you out o' that mess in a jiffy;" and then turning upon his companion perk almost savagely demanded: "it's up to us, jack--now how're we goin' to do it?" "there's only one chance that i can see," jack told him, "which is by way of this other building here. we must rush up to the third floor and if luck backs us we can find some way of passing over to her room--see, it's only a matter of five or six feet at most. come on, buddy!" "whoop! here we go then!" thundered perk, making one more sweep of his arms as if to reassure the trapped inmate of the tenement and then rushing in the wake of the fast moving jack. several people were emerging from a rear door of the brick building, and lugging all manner of household things in a mad endeavor to save cherished possessions. evidently they had been seized by an overpowering fear that the fire might leap to their establishment and acting under this impression were hardly conscious of what they were doing. indeed, it began to look as though they might so block the narrow passage with the stuff they sought to salvage that no one could either get up or down. jack was finding it difficult to push past and had almost to climb over a bulky bundle of bedding that had become lodged in the passage. perk, more impetuous, bowled over a stout man who had come down the stairs dragging a trunk, that banged and skittered in a dangerous fashion. by great good luck and the exercise of some muscle, they both managed to brush past the blockade and the stairs seemed free above them. the first landing was reached and the second almost immediately afterwards; then came the final climb and the two pals, almost breathless, reached the third floor. there was enough illumination for them to see what lay about them for the fire seemed to be breaking out of all the upper windows by this time and despite the thick smoke, shone through into the interior of the brick tenement. smoke had found entrance too, and made their eyes smart but that was a small matter and could be tolerated with such a vital stake in view. perk saw his companion take a swift look around as though to get his bearings, after which he turned to the left and ran along the hall. by this time perk, a bit bewildered and confused, was willing to follow wherever jack saw fit to lead, so in blind confidence he put after the other. a door stood open as if inviting the would-be rescuers to enter a room which jack lost no time in doing, with perk at his heels, both of them groping about amidst whirls of pungent smoke. one of the two windows was open, which would account for the presence of that dense blanket and like a shot jack jumped over to thrust out his head so as to ascertain whether his guess had been worth while. he saw the greedy banks of flame shooting out, across and up, and felt it almost scorching his cheeks but just the same it was a satisfaction to discover he was exactly opposite the third window from the end of the burning building. "this the right place?" perk was booming in his ear for what with the roaring of the fire, the pumping of the steamers down below and the shouts of deeply interested crowds in every quarter, the clamor was indeed something fierce and impressive, stirring the blood in their veins and causing their hearts to beat wildly. "yes--that window right across this gap, perk, is the one we picked out!" "je-ru-sa-lem crickets! i kinder guess i c'n make the riffle!" jack managed to catch hold of the reckless fellow as he was in the act of clambering up on the sill of the window, undoubtedly with the full intention of making a desperate attempt to jump across, to the one from which the smoke was pouring forth. "don't think of trying it--a crazy idea--one chance in ten you'd get across without falling!" he shouted in the ear of the struggling one. "gosh! let me make the try, partner--sure i c'n do such a little stunt okay--let off, won't you, jack?" pleaded perk, but the other only tightened his grip. "even if you did manage to hang on and climb inside, what good would it do--how get the woman and child across the gap?" jack roared, feeling that his comrade was losing all the sense he ever had. perk suddenly ceased struggling as though he had seen a great light. "wall, i guess you ditched me, ol' hoss--that's a fact they couldn't make it after all. then what's to be done?" he went on to say, dejectedly. "we've got to bridge it some way or other," snapped the ever ready jack. "this is a kitchen, seems like, partner--jump into it now, and see if you can't run across something that would reach across to that other window--even an ironing-board might make it. i'll take a look across the hall, in some other apartment, and may run across another." perk, as if freshly inspired, set about his commission with alacrity and almost immediately made a plunge toward a corner of the small room to snatch up a six-foot board covered with several thicknesses of cloth that was scorched in numerous places as with a hot iron. jack had meanwhile darted into the hall, discovered another open door nearly opposite and without knocking rushed through to find a second deserted kitchen and not quite so much smoke to interfere with his vision. fortune again favored him, for almost the first object he saw was a similar ironing-board, evidently a mate to that perk had run across. snatching it up he turned and hurried back to the opposite room, where he found perk just laying his frail plank across the area to discover that it bridged the gap, although with but a mite to spare. jack arrived just in time for the rash one was in the very act of crawling out on his unsteady bridge which, if moved a few inches, would have precipitated him down thirty feet and more to land upon a cement pavement and meet with grievous injuries, even if he survived the drop. "hold on!" jack shouted as he again caught hold of his chum. "here's a second board that will widen the bridge. let's swing it across and then one hold them together while the other crawls over!" "yeah, let's," perk chimed in, seeing the advantage a double width would afford, and this was quickly accomplished. "i'll go over," jack was saying. "not much you won't--that's _my_ job i'm tellin' you partner!" the other insisted, pushing jack aside. "but--i'm younger than you, perk, spryer too--it ought to be my game, don't you see?" "the devil you are!" whooped the one who would not be denied. "i'm stronger an' tougher'n you ever be, boy--an' i saw 'em first, too! let me have my way, _please_, partner, won't you?" jack, realizing that it would be the utmost folly for them to keep on disputing in this fashion while the very seconds were so valuable when human lives were in jeopardy, gave up the contention. "all right, perk, you win, but i'll go next time, remember. make up your mind i'll keep the boards close together--be as easy as you can when crossing. now, go to it!" already perk was out on the strange bridge on hands and knees, crawling toward the opposite window while jack, gripping the ends of the two boards with all his strength, held them steady. it was a tense moment and one not soon to be forgotten. by this time it seemed that two of the firemen down below holding the nozzle of a hose and sending a stream of water up to the roof of the doomed tenement building had discovered what was being done, for they raised their hoarse voices to applaud the daring bridge creeper. it was all in the line of their own daily work and they surely could appreciate the venturesome act at its full value. jack had a dread lest they change the direction of the stream, hoping thus to sprinkle the climber and render him immune to that heat which they must know would be almost unbearable so close to those darting billows of fire but fortunately they did nothing of the sort, doubtless realizing how frail that mockery of a bridge must be and how the shock of a volume of water might cause it to break away. a few seconds of dreadful suspense and then perk vanished from view, having passed into the room through the third window from the end of the tenement. jack almost ceased breathing, so thrilled was he lest that might be the last glimpse he would ever have of his pal. iv the rescue there was some sort of a movement across the way--then to jack's great relief he saw perk's head appear in the open window. he had a small figure in his arms--the boy, undoubtedly and was already starting out upon the bridge. jack could see no sign of life about the little child and had some fear that the rescue might have been too late to save him from being smothered by that dense smoke. just then he also discovered that another figure had appeared back of perk, and readily guessed this must be the woman. she seemed to be holding the ends of the ironing boards as though possessed of a deadly fear lest they slip from the stone coping and precipitate both child and rescuer to their death in a wild plunge. that caused jack to tighten his own hold for perk was having considerably more trouble in making his return than on his previous crossing since he now had to push the child ahead of him, being unable to navigate and hold a burden, however helpless, in his arms. again the firemen below were shouting words of praise and encouragement to the gallant soul that so fearlessly risked his own life for that of another. with them such exploits came in line with their duty, but in this case it was simply an act of humanity. jack waited until perk had pushed the child against his hands, then cautiously he loosened his grip on the right board and dragged the light weight over the window sill to safety. perk clambered in and immediately made a suggestive move as though about to turn around and do his stunt all over again but jack refused to stand for such a thing. "you've had your inning, buddy, so don't be hoggish," he bawled as he shoved perk aside, "now it's my turn. take hold, and keep the boards as steady as you can while i fetch the woman across." perk was very loath to obey and doubtless did a lot of grumbling, but jack paid no further attention to him, just began to creep out on that narrow bridge, and move ahead inches at a time. he dared not look down lest it have some sinister effect upon his nerve--just kept his eyes firmly fixed upon that window toward which he was creeping. the poor woman was still in sight, wringing her hands and yet evidently satisfied to know her child had been safely carried across the abyss that yawned there so threateningly. jack would have liked to call out and beg her to keep quiet lest she chance to dislodge one of the frail supports upon which so much depended but he also feared lest he himself in thus shouting cause immediate trouble and defeat his purpose. the crossing was made in safety. it was simply wonderful how those twin planks held together when the necessity was so great. jack would never be able to look upon such an humble kitchen necessity again, whether in a house or a hardware store window display, without feeling warmly drawn toward the mute object on which his very life now depended. he crawled through with a tongue of flame darting down and almost licking his cheek. it was necessary that he should get the woman to go out ahead of him, so that he could encourage her as they crept along. "steady yourself, madam," he called out as he felt her hands come in contact with his arm, "it's all right--your boy is safe, and you will be too if you get a grip on your nerve and do what i tell you." she was evidently badly shaken as might be expected--he could see how she trembled and seemed so weak, which was why he spoke as he did, in the hope of putting a little new confidence in her almost fainting heart. "you must crawl out ahead of me," he told her. "don't look down--keep your eyes on the window where my pal waits for you--just keep saying to yourself that your boy is over there waiting for you--he needs you, and you must be brave now. there is no other way by which you can be saved to join him again. can you make the venture, lady?" he used that last word almost inadvertently, yet already had he decided that she was indeed a lady, though poorly dressed and evidently under financial difficulties. he must have inspired his charge with some of his own valor, for he saw her cease trembling and knew full well it had been his mention of a reunion with her child that had effected this change. "yes, oh yes, i will be brave--for adrian's sake, my baby boy!" he heard her cry as she started to creep out of the window amidst all that smoke and the devilish tongues of fire that darted after her as if in rage at being cheated of their intended prey. carefully did jack follow after her, ready to throw out a helping hand should she make the slightest slip and be in danger of falling. but to his surprise and delight as well, she seemed to be supported by some miraculous power for she made the short passage without a single mishap. perk made no effort to drag her through the opening--to do so he would have had to take his hands from his job of holding the ends of the planks and this might lead to a sudden shift that would bring about the very disaster he had been dreading. his one thought now was the safety of his pal--the woman was capable of passing over the sill of the window without any assistance. when, therefore, jack came over the bridgehead and landed on the floor, the impulsive and thrilled perk threw his arms about him, words failing him just then. "we must get out of this," jack managed to say, as soon as he could catch his breath again, "the fire is almost sure to jump across that gap and start things in this building unless firemen climb up here and hold it in check. perk take up the child, who i see is beginning to come to all right. i'll help his mother down the stairs. we're all safe and sound, lady, so keep as nervy a front as you can." perk cuddled the little chap to his breast and jack was tickled to see the boy clasp his own chubby arms around the other's neck as though he realized something of what perk had done for him and loved him for that. the descent was made slowly for there was more or less danger of one of them slipping and having a bad fall--but presently the last flight of narrow rear stairs had been negotiated and they came to the open door that led into the alleyway and safety. they were just in time too, for a party of firefighters with a slack hose were just entering the brick tenement, evidently with the intention of dragging it to an upper window where, with the water turned on, they could fight the hungry flames at close quarters and at least keep the second building from being involved in the common destruction. perk might have been bothered to know what next to do but not the versatile jack who led the woman out of the crowd and then looked around for some vehicle in which she and the boy could be taken to a hospital, for he had discovered that one of her arms seemed to hang at her side, as though it may have been broken in the excitement. fortunately a taxi chanced to come along into which they all bundled and were taken to the hospital. the boy sat in perk's lap and his preserver seemed to take positive delight in holding one of the little chap's hands. noticing how fond perk seemed to be of children--and this was not the first time he had learned of this fact, since he had one of his humorous smiles for almost every child--and dog--he met--jack wondered why his elder pal had never married but that was a subject perk never mentioned nor had jack felt it his province to make inquiries, since there are some things that are no one's business. a doctor quickly examined the mother's arm and admitted that one of the bones was fractured. it was not a bad break, however, and she could be around with her arm in a sling after he had attended to it. somehow, although as yet supperless, neither of the chums seemed in any hurry to get away. perk was held by his attraction toward the chubby little boy and as for himself he felt concerned with regard to what the pair they had saved would do, since they no longer had a home and all of their scanty possessions must have been devoured by those greedy flames. he determined not to abandon them until he had learned how the mother was fixed with regard to this world's goods. somehow, although she dressed very simply, there was an air of refinement about her that impressed jack very much and he also had an idea she could not be in straightened circumstances for she was wearing a ring of considerable value, he noticed. he managed to enter into conversation with her after she had tried to tell him she would never forget what he and his friend had done for her that night. he had listened with his customary smile, shaking his head meanwhile, as if to belittle their actions. "we could not have done less, after we saw that the firemen had not placed any ladder up to that third floor," he went on to tell her. "and then, you see my chum here, who lives only for excitement, was just complaining that things were so humdrum and dull so it tickled him to have a chance to test his nerve again. and you can see he's especially fond of little boys, not girls. we expect to leave salt lake city any hour now as we are aviators,--flying men you know--and have a job ahead of us. before saying goodnight to you, madam, would you mind telling us if we can be of any further assistance to you and your fine boy here--pardon me for mentioning it, but are you supplied with present funds, since possibly you may have to remain here in the hospital for a week or more?" she looked at him and smiled as though pleased with the solicitude he showed but she shook her head and hastened to say: "we are not what you would call poor, for we have good friends back of us. indeed, it was my intention to start for spokane tomorrow as i must try to find a certain party whose present whereabouts means everything to me. so please do not worry about us, for we can get on. it was a furnished flat we occupied and while i have lost all my clothes as well as those of adrian, that lack can easily be replaced. i thank you for your card giving me your washington address. some day perhaps you may hear from me and possibly i shall have some pleasant news to tell you but just now it is all wrapped up in mystery. so much depends on my finding the one who does not dream of the information we are carrying to him. if only my clue proves trustworthy." that was as much as jack learned and it was bound to often come up in his mind, causing him to wonder what the "good news" she mentioned could be. v at the flying field it was pretty late when they sat down to supper that night but as jack had predicted, the appetite of his chum was amply recompense for the delay. they had done a good deed and best of all managed to get away before any inquisitive newspaper men arrived at the hospital on the track of a sensational beat. "which pleases me a whole lot," jack went on to say as they started eating. "same here ol' hoss," added perk, with unction. "once them chaps get on the scent o' a good story they never do let up till it's spread out on the front page after bein' blue-penciled by the city editor. i know how it's put through, 'cause i got some pretty good friends in the bunch--they're all wool an' a yard wide on everything 'cept pokin' their noses into the private affairs o' citizens and couples that jest _can't_ get on in double harness." "just imagine what a nasty shock it'd be to us both perk, to see our names and pictures staring at us under a scare line of black type--yes, and like as not with as much as they could scrape together about our private business--nice way to upset all the plans of secret service hounds on the trail of big game, i must say." "honest, i didn't give away a single thing, buddy," said perk with unusual earnestness, which was as good as an invitation for jack to clear his skirts of the same suspicion, which he hastened to do. "i simply gave her my address in washington--at my room, you understand, perk--i wanted her to write to me later on so we could know how they both came out after that nasty squeeze play. not a whisper what line of business we followed and i asked her as a particular favor not to let a single soul know who the two parties were to whom she and her boy owed their narrow escape from being trapped in that burning house. she said the name would never pass her lips and that she would write, after something she was bound to accomplish had been put through. of course i couldn't even give more than a guess what that is, only she seemed dreadfully in earnest and i reckon it might be a reconciliation with her husband, adrian's father." perk nodded his head solemnly. "huh! mebbe so, jack, mebbe so, lots o' that sort o' trouble goin' 'round these days, seems like. now i wonder if you thought to ask what her name might be?" "queer that i didn't think to do that, partner," jack told him with a little laugh. "i reckon i must have been a little absent-minded but that's nothing to us for chances are we'll never meet the lady again. how about you and the boy?" "he told me his name, jack, when he gave me this little picture he happened to have in his pocket--you see on the back it's got written, i guess by his mom herself: 'adrian, at six'; but tarnation take the luck if i ain't jest plumb forgot the last name he told me--somethin' like burnham or barnard--begins with a b, i'm dead sure--buster, bramley--buttons--well, for the love o' mike i can't strike oil but it'll come back, given a little time." "and i can see plain enough if it keeps on skipping you it's bound to keep you busy guessing right along," jack was saying, for only too well did he know this little weakness on the part of his comrade. perk was bound to keep on pounding away at that puzzle day and night, giving himself no rest until he either solved the riddle or else some one told him the answer--left to himself he would never give up trying. "like as not, buddy," replied perk, frowning darkly; "seems i'm gettin' up a tree every little while--never could remember names worth a cent but i don't forget faces, you understand." "and then too, you're a great hand for remembering to hear the first sound of the dinner bell," said jack with a chuckle. "i sure am some punkins 'bout that," admitted the amiable perk with one of his goodnatured grins spreading over his homely face. "what's the program after we've cleaned up this mess, eh partner?" inquired jack, who doubtless could make a good guess from previous experience as to what his companion's answer was apt to be, but for once he counted without his host. "wall," observed perk shaking his head, "i did mean to take a look in at the pictur house, seein' they got my ol' favorite, milton sills booked tonight but shucks! it's too late an' 'sides, somehow i kinder lost my likin' for action jest now--mebbe i got my fill in that busy bee session with the fire fiend down by the tenement district--kinder a bit lame in the arm muscles, so i figger on rubbin' 'em with my salve that worked so fine after my rough landin' away back. yep, i'll cut out the movies for one night in port an' go to bed early." "i'm meaning to pick up all the extra sleep possible," ventured jack at which his mate nodded approvingly. "i get you, partner," he hastened to say, "kinder figgerin' on our skippin' out any ol' time an' like as not runnin' up against a rough passage that'll keep us on the jump. but i sure would like to have even an inklin' which way that hop-off's goin' to lead us." "i'm surprised at such a reckless, devil-may-care sort of chap as i've known you to be, perk, bothering your poor nut about such a silly thing just as if it mattered two cents to either of us which way we head--nothing ought to give us a second thought except that we're ready to jump in and carry through, any old place under the sun." "yeah! but then what'd i find to worry 'bout if i didn't pick on the way we're kept in the dark up to the last minute?" jack looked at him blankly and shook his head as if such peculiar philosophy were too much for him to master--then he changed the subject and the meal went on until even perk, with his tremendous cargo capacity, could contain no more. they sat in their room reading until their eyes getting heavy warned them it was time to hit the hay, as perk was so fond of calling the act of getting into bed. in the morning they were both astir, for it so happened that neither had ever shown signs of being late sleepers, save on special occasions. "another day," remarked jack while leisurely dressing, for since they had nothing afoot (save to possibly take a few hours' spin in order to keep in practice as well as test out several new devices with which they had as yet not become as familiar as jack would like), there was no necessity for any hurry. "an' wouldn't i give somthin' if only i knew we could check out before sundown tonight," grumbled perk, yawning and stretching as though life was becoming entirely too tame and monotonous to satisfy his cravings. "wait and see," advised his chum, "you know the old saying that it's always darkest just before dawn--we're due to get a thrill before many more hours. give headquarters decent time to cook up a fine fat game for us, a nut to crack that'll be worth going after. i've a few little things on my list that i mean to carry out this morning when i'll be ready for the call." perk seemed unusually slow that morning, though he did not complain about his lame muscles. even when jack asked about it he shrugged and with a grimace remarked indifferently: "oh! that's okay, buddy--turned out to be a false alarm--nothin' the matter with me, i guess, except i need shakin' up a wheen." "you'll get all you want of that i reckon before you're many days older," jack told him, "somehow i've got a notion we're going to be sent on a wild goose chase that may cover some thousands of miles and take us into a queer section of country--nothing but a surmise, or what you might call a _hunch_ to back me up in that, remember, but i've known a hunch to come true more than a few times." "i wonder," perk observed dreamily, eyeing his comrade as if he again felt the old suspicion arise with regard to jack knowing more than he chose to tell just then. but unseen by either of the two pals, coming events were hurrying along and threatening to speedily engulf them in as dizzy a spin as either had ever encountered in all previous experiences. it was around eight when they arrived at the flying field, as usual a scene of considerable bustle with ships coming in and departing--air mail carriers, visiting boats taking off in a continuance of their prearranged flights east or west and several heavier bombing planes that were being taken to los angeles by naval pilots for some secret purpose of the war department. jack and his pal observed all this with grins of sheer enjoyment, so bred in the bone had their love for their profession grown to be that everything connected with flying drew them as the polar star does the magnetic needle of a compass. "times are getting right lively around these diggin's," remarked perk, with a sparkle in his eyes and enthusiasm in his voice. "seems like it," replied jack who chanced to be watching a novice just then starting out on what appeared to be his initial solo flight. "that boy shows fair promise of being due to break into the ranks of express pilots after he's had another hundred miles or so of flying. i like the way he handles himself and the test pilot told me yesterday he was sure to be a comer." "ol' bob ought to know what's what," mentioned perk taking a look for himself, "there, he's off and see how he lifts the ol' bus when he's ready. i watched him make as neat a three-point landin' yesterday as anybody could wish. a few o' 'em seem to be born with wings--but not many, not many, i'm sorry to say. well, let's step over and get things started." perk stopped short as though some one had given him a blow--he seemed to be holding his breath while he stared and then commenced rubbing his eyes in a peculiar fashion, just as though he imagined he must be seeing things where they could not possibly exist. jack realized that his chum must have had a shock of some kind, and turned upon him quickly. "what's the matter--what ails you, perk?" he demanded. "gosh amighty! jack, looky there will you--the hangar--mister gibbons; you know, where we parked our boat--it's burned down last night!" vi a blow in the dark jack was naturally intensely shaken by this outburst from his companion. his first act was to whirl around and look hastily in the quarter indicated where he discovered quite a bunch of men clustered around some object from which wisps of smoke seemed to still be rising on the clear morning air. he and perk exchanged startled looks as though the same sudden thought had gripped their hearts. "queer i didn't notice a thing before, perk, though i saw a crowd gathered--but then that's a common occurrence out here where so many interesting things keep on happening. sure enough, the gibbons' hangar has gone up--such accidents don't come along often in any modern aviation field." "accidents!" blurted out perk steaming up--"lay off that stuff, ol' hoss--ev'ry little movement has a meanin' o' its own--up to last afternoon it was our ship that snuggled in that hangar, don't forgit that, my boy. talk to me 'bout luck, we hit it sky-high that time. let's go see what's happened, and how they talk 'bout it in the bargain." this proposal jack was only too willing to stamp with his approval so they hurried toward the bunch of men--pilots, mechanics, visitors and riffraff chancing to be at the field just then and now engaged in staring at the ruins of the new hangar, doubtless exchanging opinions as to how the conflagration had occurred in the dead of night. "huh!" jack heard his comrade saying as if to himself as they approached the cluster of men, "seems like we got up against a reg'lar roundup o' fire--last night that tenement, an' now today the hangar we been usin' to shelter our boat. hot ziggetty dog! but ain't life queer though?" everybody was turning to stare at them as they came along. undoubtedly it was generally known that their ship had been stored in the destroyed shelter while mr. spencer gibbons was away and that it was only on the preceding afternoon on coming back from a flight that they had transferred it to another hangar jack had been able to hire since the owner of the one they had been using had wired he would be home shortly after dark. "when and how did this happen?" jack asked one of the pilots as he took in the fact that the remains of a plane could be seen amidst the wreckage--apparently an explosion had taken place, for much of the charred material of which the hangar had consisted was scattered around the near vicinity. "they tell us around about midnight," came the answer for the pilot knew jack as a fellow craftsman, although a stranger to salt lake city aviation circles. "the alarm was given by the pilot of an incoming mail ship making port hours late on account of heavy fog in the mountains. queer, too, they say, how quick it all came about--fire was blazing furious like when discovered, and nothing could be done to save mr. gibbons' fine ship. there he is yonder, talking to some newspaper boys." jack went over to tell the other how he was shocked to see what had happened to his property and to ask if anything was known as to the origin of the conflagration. "seems to be pretty much a mystery, they all tell me," the genial sportsman informed him, not showing any signs of being at all worried although undoubtedly deeply mystified. "you fellows were in some luck to get your ship out before this nasty thing came along which i'm glad to know. of course i'm well insured and can replace my pitcairn mailwing readily enough, only i'd gotten that one working like magic. i'm glad no other hangar caught when mine burned. i've offered five hundred dollars for any information that will prove that this was a set-up job for it happens that on one other occasion something similar to this came my way. you see, i was unlucky enough to make a few enemies in wall street who've never forgiven me for knocking them out on a big deal." mr. gibbons laughed and seemed in no wise bothered by his recent loss, only jack noticed how his eyes seemed to glint like sparks from steel when mentioning the fact that he had unscrupulous enemies in the commercial world. jack hung around for some little time, talking to several of those present and asking numerous questions but learning next to nothing. if, as some of the ground attendants seemed to believe, it was an incendiary act, those who took big chances in carrying it out must have planned carefully and fixed matters not only to make a certainty of the ship sheltered within the hangar being destroyed, but also covering their tracks with great skill. finally he started over to the other hangar and perk, seeing him go pulled his freight, as he would have called it, to hasten after his chum. "huh! looks like a fine sight for sore eyes," perk declared with glee, "to see our boat standin' there safe an' sound tho' i'm sure sorry mister fitzgibbons--i mean gibbons, had to lose his crate--no fault o' ourn i'll tell the world, jack." "to be sure we could hardly be blamed for what happened," returned the other with a deep meaning in his voice and manner that caused perk to start and then blurt out: "by jinks! partner, does it look to you like some crazy snooper set fire to the hangar under the belief that our ship was locked in there?" "between you and me and the lamp-post, buddy, that just struck me as possible, though i've no proof to back me up in saying it." "another o' them slick hunches o' yourn, eh partner?" perk hastened to say and then, scratching his chin in a way he had when seriously considering some debatable proposition that puzzled him very much, he added: "can't for the love o' mike guess how anybody could learn jest who an' what we might be but it's a risky line we're engaged in, buddy, an' some o' these here smart crooks have accomplices they say even in the service o' uncle sam. it's possible a whisper leaked out an' havin' some fish to fry, word was sent to some o' the big gang out here at salt lake city to do for us, or wipe our ship off the face o' the earth instanter. gee whiz! but that sure does make things look mixed-up for us, ol' hoss." "for one thing," said jack, firmly, "after this i never mean to leave our boat in a strange hangar without hiring a guard to watch over it every hour of every night, no matter what the cost to uncle sam. i reckon they keep some insurance on these crates, but it would be what time and instruments and charts we lost that would knock us the hardest." "but how could anybody know what sorter job we're goin' to wrestle with next, even 'fore we got a glimmer o' it ourselves?" querulously demanded the bewildered perk, up in the air again apparently for there seemed to be a vast number of things of which he was densely ignorant. jack laughed and shook his head. "some fine day perhaps we'll get on the inside track of these strange doings, brother but right now i'm just as much in the dark as you. all i know is that for some little time rumors have been going around at and close to headquarters but so far as i understand the matter up to lately, the mysterious party responsible for such give-aways hasn't been located. so it's within the bounds of reason for me to suspect we've fallen under the ban and have had some sort of secret enemy set on our track." "huh!" snorted perk indignantly, "kinder like that oswald kearns employed one o' his critters to do us a bad turn--you know, that big rum-runner we nailed down in florida not so very long back an' whose trial hasn't come along so far, we've heard." "just like that," jack told him, "although i hardly believe it could be any of his dirty work. still, it's going to pay us to keep our eyes peeled right along and never imagine the coast is clear just because we don't happen to see any ugly character around. such scamps usually manage to hide themselves daytimes, to slip out after dark and do their tricks." soon afterwards they had tooled their ship to the runway close at hand, made the dash, and started skyward like a bird. for two hours they tried out various capers so as to make certain they had complete control of the wonderful amphibian that had been placed at jack's disposal by those at the secret service bureau in washington, intent on equipping their trusted agents with the best going, so that no failure might be laid at their door due to insufficient backing. they were back again by one that same afternoon, it being against jack's better judgment to remain away more than a few hours at a time. he knew that at any day a message from washington, in secret cipher, was apt to come along and which, for aught he knew, would call for them to start out without any unnecessary delay and he wished to be on hand to receive it. to save time he and perk dropped into the dining room of the hotel without visiting the office so they might have dinner before going up to their room. this was pretty much of a daily habit with them and so far there had not been any disadvantage arising from the arrangement. they had almost finished their dessert when one of the bellhops came along and being familiar with the pair from rubbing up against them so often, he asked no questions but laid down a telegraph envelope addressed to mr. john jacob astorbilt. "gosh!" that was all perk could gasp when he saw that presumably the orders they had been expecting for so long must have arrived. he watched jack reach out and pick up the sealed envelope--noted that there did not seem to be the slightest quiver of his hand--indeed, if it were an ordinary dunning epistle jack could not have acted more carelessly--so far as outward manifestations showed--than was the case just then. he opened the envelope and then, still as cool as a cucumber grown in the shade of a cornstalk, drew out the enclosure which perk's devouring eyes told him was unusually long. food was quite forgotten--for once--by the enthralled perk who sat there, fascinated, watching jack's face as though in anticipation of being able to tell from what he might read there something of the nature of the communication that had been telegraphed from far distant washington. it was quite useless, however. had jack been glancing over a casual invitation to some party he could not have evinced more unconcern. of course the message was so fashioned that in order to glean its full meaning a recourse to his code would be necessary but then as perk knew, jack would be able to pick up a word here and there and in this way get an inkling as to its purport. vii perk hears thrilling news "on your way, partner--gimme a clue to save me from crashin'!" begged poor perk, his wits in a huddle that would have made any football enthusiast take a back seat. "it's our order to get busy, okay," said jack with a gleam in his eyes his pal loved to see, since it meant _action_ and plenty of it. "where bound, for the love o' mike?" continued the other. "i've made out one name here which may be our destination, perk." "yeah?" "spokane," he was told at which perk lifted his eyebrows as if to denote more or less surprise, likewise disappointment. "huh! 'bout a short day's flyin' from this joint," was the way the ambitious perk voiced his feelings, just as if his expectations had been taking wings and soaring across the pacific or some such long distance. "go slow, brother," his mate advised him, "give me half a chance to make this puzzle out--so far i've caught just a word or two here and there. from the size of this message there's a heap back of it. if you're done stoking, let's pass up to our den where i can get out my code and decipher this thing." perk was out of his chair in a jiffy. "i'm with you, laddie so let's get a move on. i kinder guess now i'll jump out o' this here lowdown fit in a hurry, once we get goin'." he already looked a hundred per cent more awake than he had been for several days and jack chuckled as he led the way to the elevator, knowing how new life had been pumped into his chum's veins by the receipt of the order to go. once seated in the room they shared in common, jack took his secret code from its hiding place and set to work in earnest. perk could see him writing down word after word and filling in vacant places. the minutes fairly dragged like lead to the impatient one and when jack sat back, nodding his head as if wholly satisfied, the other again begged him to lift the lid and give him a peep-in. "what's the matter at spokane? some o' them bolshevik miners broke loose over in idaho an' threatenin' to kick up general hell again like they've done so many times?" "a rotten guess brother," jack told him. "nobody said we were going to stop long at spokane--just ordered to look up a certain party there who'd pass on a bunch of information he's been collecting this long while back and so help us on our way." perk beamed again, as though quite a load had been lifted from his chest. "sounds better to me, ol' hoss," he hastened to say. "an' tell me, where do we go from spokane?" "due north!" snapped jack smilingly, "in the direction of an old stamping-ground of yours." "across the border--into canada, partner?" demanded perk. "just where we'll be aiming for and moreover, buddy seems to me i've even heard you speak of a fur-trading post known as frazer's, with a scotchman as factor of the hudson bay company, name of mcgregor!" at that perk let out one of his whoops as though unable to contain his overpowering delight. "ol' jimmy mcgregor you mean, jack! don't i know him from his moccasins up, the queerest but straightest man in the whole northwest territory? why, i was located not many miles away from his store an' many a time dropped in to get my 'baccy at his counter. i'll be as happy as a lark to shake his honest hand again. now wouldn't that jar you though--such great luck?" "here's another name you may chance to know. we're to pick up one of the mounties at the post and take him along as a sort of guide and backer, so as to show we're playing our game in conjunction with the legal authorities of the region. ever meet up with sergeant lowden, perk?" "say, i was in cahoots with a mighty fine lad by that name," came the speedy reply, "but if it's _him_ they've given red a big boost since i quit the game and went back to flyin'." "that sounds good to me, just the same," jack told him, "because we're set to see a heap of the sergeant before we skip back to our own side of the border and with him being an old pard of yours it's likely he'll feel it's up to him to do his level best to help us corral that wildcat." "meanin' who, if it's all the same to you, partner?" perk observed. "listen then and get it pat, brother. some time last year a certain man escaped from leavenworth penitentiary--it's never been learned just how he managed it, or who on the outside or in gave him a lift. seems that he was a man uncle sam particularly wanted to keep shut up for a long term--a dangerous man to be at large. this brought about a bunch of trouble at washington, and a number of high officials felt the finger of suspicion. lax methods and such, you understand, being leveled at them. rewards have been posted everywhere and i can remember seeing several of them in my travels, but up to now never has the first bit of information filtered in to headquarters. they seemed to infer from certain hints that the escaped prisoner had gone west, but then again it was said he had skipped to south america where he could change his name and keep on playing hob with other people's wealth. his name, perk, before he was hauled in and sent to the pen was leonard culpepper!" "hot ziggetty dog! so, _that's_ the way the scent leads us, is it?" cried perk, evidently fully aroused by the disclosure. "sure, i've seen them posters in mor'n a few post offices north an' south, east an' west and wondered who'd be the lucky dick to snatch that fat reward they put up. gee! you've got me near goofy partner, with that news." "listen again then, perk, and get the gist of what this message has given to us. information had trickled in through several sources to state positively that a man answering the description of leonard culpepper has been playing hob up in the northwest territory for some months now. he's got a few tough bad men he runs with and they take their orders from him. that's another proof of his identity, since leonard never would play second fiddle to any living man. it was rule or ruin with him every time." "huh! gettin' hotter right along i'd say, jack--suits me to a dot, an' sure worth waitin' for in the bargain," and if any one could judge how happy perk felt just then, the grin on his face, as well as the way in which he kept rubbing one hand over the other, just like a miser gloating over his gold, would be enough to tell the tale. "remember, boy, this man is reckoned a desperate character, ready to go to any extreme to keep his liberty. even your old comrades the mounties have so far fallen down on the job of taking him in. he seems to play too slick a game for the whole posse and we understand that at least one officer has mysteriously disappeared when trying to track him to his lair. so make up your mind we'll have to match wits with even sherlock holmes if we hope to get the better of this hard hitter." "what's the name he goes by up there?" asked perk. "no name at all--they call him the _hawk_, because he swoops down on his prey unawares and is absolutely merciless. two gold prospectors who were said to have struck it rich somewhere further north have disappeared and it's suspected they fell in a fight with his gang. sometimes he's here and in a few days they tell of him bobbing up a hundred miles away." "jest like a flea," suggested perk, "gone afore you c'n put a finger on him. wall, i kinder like the way our job's laid out for us, partner. the bigger they are the harder they fall when uncle sam's men get goin'. so we're meanin' to pick up a bunch o' news at spokane, are we? an' if it's a fair question, ol' hoss, _when_ do we cal'late to pull out o' this burg?" "no particular hurry, understand, perk, we can take our own time going--slow and sure is to be our motto. but i'm a little like you in wanting to make a start, then, if we feel so disposed, we can loaf a while or turn aside if we see a chance to play a trick for uncle sam. that gives us a lot of leeway, you see." "nearly two o'clock right now--c'n we get off this afternoon, partner?" hinted the anxious one, appealingly. "by four we ought to be on our way, buddy. now let's get busy!" viii the take-off jack was sorry that, owing to their pulling out so soon, he would not be able to visit the hospital again as he had planned and upon mentioning this fact to his companion, perk shrugged his shoulders as he said: "that's a downright shame, i'd say, partner, fact is, i depended on you to find out what adrian's last name was--save me a wheen o' worriment if on'y i knowed it--somethin' that rhymed with barnum--bernard--burling--berwind--hang the luck, jest _why_ does this ol' short memory for names bob up to bother a feller when we're startin' off on a big spin an' may never see thet lady an' little adrian again? seems i'm jest goin' to speak the right word, an' then, shucks! it misses connection like, an' leaves me a gropin' in the dark." jack, being accustomed to his pal's queer ways, did not take much notice of the new cause for worry that had gripped the stubborn one. he felt pretty certain he would see perk sitting many times with a brooding expression on his face and counting his fingers while checking off each and every name he could conjure up that sounded like barnum, etc., to finally heave a tremendous sigh, shake his head and apparently try to get the troublesome puzzle out of his mind. it was all very sad but then one usually has to pay some sort of penalty because of having a poor memory for names. as for jack, he gave the subject little thought partly because he had matters of much greater moment to take up his attention. indeed, he would have been considerably surprised could he have suspected how that name for which perk was grappling just through his stubbornness, would play quite an important part in those adventures which they were destined to run up against on the other side of the canadian border. "now let's forget everything that happened last night," he told his chum seriously, "and stick to our business which is connected with the bringing in of that fierce go-getter and all-round bad egg who slipped out of jail so mysteriously that the wardens are floundering in a bog up to this day. all of which proves he's no easy mark and that we'll have to be on our toes if we expect to cage our bird." they were so well prepared for the sudden emergency call that little remained to be done. the crate was serviced and could cover fully fifteen hundred miles as the crow flies with the gas they had aboard. then, too, as they figured on stopping over in spokane possibly a day or so, there would be ample opportunity to refill their aluminum tanks to the limit as well as lay in such other necessities as occurred to them. "we've got to remember," remarked cautious jack as they were heading for the flying field before two that afternoon, "that once we start across the line, we'll have few chances to fill up with gas. they may happen to have some gas at the post, or perhaps the mounties could supply us because in these days of much flying it would be possible for a ship to drop down near by and be in need of fuel so badly the pilot would pay a big price to be supplied but i don't mean to bank on such a happening." "huh! mebbe things have changed some since i served with the mounties," perk went on to say; "for there wasn't such a thing as a gallon o' gas within fifty or a hundred miles o' the post at that time. folks are gettin' air-minded ev'rywhere you go today an' it wouldn't surprise me to find they've got some sort o' a landin' place close at hand. ain't staggered at anything nowadays, buddy." they lost no time in reaching the field and as it was a pleasant day they found it an animated scene, with crates coming and going, visitors as well as those connected with the field in some capacity helping to make up a crowd with scores of spectators as a backing, rushing from one point to another. this thing was such an old story for both flyers they paid little attention to the bustle that was going on but made straight for the hangar where their ship was quartered. jack had kept his word and a man could be seen standing or moving about near the squatty building. this was a guard in his employ, engaged by the day, for an indefinite time. it might be a week or a day, depending on the whim of the young and ardent sportsman, whom it was believed meant to hunt big game somewhere within five hundred miles of salt lake city. "listen perk," said jack as they approached the hangar, "it might be just as well for neither of us to say a word about making a quick run of it until about to pull out when i'll pay our man double wages. after what happened here last night anything might come along to upset our calculations." "i'm on jack--seems like you never do know what's what these days. any more light on who did that dirty, sneaky job last night, eh what?" "nothing positive but i'm still of the opinion it must've been meant for us," replied jack. "everything points that way for we happened to change our hangar with hardly anybody knowing about it. then again i understood mr. gibbons dropped in along about nine and never a soul to meet him and his pilot save the customary field hands. but then there's no use crying over spilled milk--what's done can't be changed and it serves to warn us never to trust to just mixing up our names. we've got to believe there are just as smart wideawake chaps up against us as we ever claim to be. that'll be enough on the subject perk, so let's forget it." "anyway, luck's all in our favor, seems like," was the consolation perk offered himself, at the same time relapsing into silence. as quietly as possible, just as if they meant to take an ordinary spin, they got their bus out of the hangar. jack had paid the rental for it in advance, so there was nothing to worry them from that quarter, which was just as well for things somehow manage to fly around among the employees and pilots connected with a base port and the news would soon become common property that the young millionaire sportsman and his pilot were at last on their way to some chosen hunting ground in search of big game like moose, grizzly bears or possibly rocky mountain big-horn sheep. as usual jack gave the ship the once over, to make doubly certain nothing had been neglected. so far as he was able to tell it was in apple-pie condition and so well stocked that they could count on a two thousand mile flight unless baffled by storm or dense fog banks. the guard was given double pay and told that his services would not be needed any further, since a sudden wire had changed their plans somewhat and they were pulling out for good. if he evinced any particular curiosity concerning the goal they had in view, never a word spoken by either of the flyers put him any the wiser. not that jack suspected he might be in touch with some mysterious but vindictive enemy, but just kept mum on general principles. "all ready, partner!" sang out perk in his usual happy fashion for it always pleased him beyond measure to be making a start on some new air voyage and from what jack had told him, spokane was going to be only a way station, with the vast unknown northwest territory beckoning them on to fresh activities and mayhap thrilling adventures to follow. no wonder the chap whose nerves were always set for action felt joyful when the moment came to pull the gun and swing off. one last look around and aloft so as to stamp his approval on the conditions with which they were to be confronted, and jack made the momentous start. the wonderful up-to-date amphibian began to move down the slight decline with constantly augmented speed until, having reached the desired maximum the pilot lifted his craft and away they soared. perk took a last backward look at the field that had become fairly familiar to them by this time. there was a grin upon his freckled face that told of the pleasure he felt at such an auspicious moment. a ship was just coming into port, settling down for the last glide--just as a duck might set its wings, and throw its webbed feet forward on nearing the surface of a lagoon on which it intended to alight. perk rather imagined it was a belated air-mail boat, delayed by some accident like a forced landing or unusual weather conditions. no matter, he waved a hand gaily in salute to the homecoming air-man and felt no ill humor because there was no return wave, since the one whose hand was at the stick must needs give his full attention to his work, or risk a crash. so they departed from the friendly salt lake city airport, with a far distant goal in view. ix a broken paddle after attaining some thousands of feet altitude, jack headed into the north-west-by-north, it being his intention for variety to follow the shore line of the water until near its extreme northerly tip. this was only done for a change and to please perk, who had mentioned the fact that he would welcome such a brief run, being a bit tired of looking down on endless stretches of rough country, mountainous in most places and with a most monotonous panorama passing far below. so after all it was accident rather than an expectancy of meeting up with any sort of adventure that brought about the rather odd happening falling to their lot that afternoon. perk having little to do just then that could not be deferred until later on, was amusing himself with the glasses, looking back toward the old mormon city with its vast temple devoted to the service of the followers of brigham young and the many other interesting features which he and jack had faithfully surveyed while they were killing time and awaiting orders. when these sights began to grow dim in the distance, he swept the surface of the big sheet of salty water and noted far away toward the west the shoreline bounding it in that quarter. the day that had begun with considerable warmth had also brought up clouds that had, perk thought, a bit of menace in their dark depths. perhaps after all they would be treated to a little thunder and lightning for a change but that did not give him any concern, since both he and jack were used to meeting up with boisterous weather when in flight and knew all the practical wrinkles for avoiding discomfort under such conditions. through the glass he could easily make out the various towns and smaller places that were to be met with along the eastern shore of the winding lake. they interested him from time to time, especially since jack for some reason of his own had seen fit to drop down until they were zooming along not more than two thousand feet above the lake itself. "some wind down there," remarked perk suddenly. "startin' to kick up the waves like it might mean business." "i wouldn't be surprised if we got a fair-sized blow later on," jack told him as their ear-phones had been adjusted in order to permit an exchange of opinions and also allow them to work in common. perk shot a look skyward and noticed the clouds were actually growing blacker and more menacing. but that meant nothing in his care-free life. if the wind began to bother them it would be a simple thing to climb above the storm and keep merrily on their way, leaving the overcharged clouds to deluge the land beneath with their contents. perk was very still for some little time and seemed to be paying particular attention to something that had attracted his notice. "i say, partner," he suddenly said, and jack could tell he was agitated for some reason or other. "yes, what is it, perk?" demanded the pilot. "i don't just like the looks o' it, that's what!" exclaimed the other. "nothing more than a summer squall, with some fireworks thrown in for good measure, perk. i'm surprised at you, old man." "you're gettin' me wrong, ol' hoss," burst out the other, "i ain't referrin' to the weather, which don't disturb me a whiff--it's that silly little canoe down yonder an' sure as shootin' it's a _gal_ in it wavin' a white flag o' some kind!" "what's that, boy?" cried jack, startled somewhat by perk's last words. "a punkin-seed boat, such as no sensible person'd use on such a big sheet o' water as this here salt lake and she don't seem to have any paddle at work either, that i c'n see--mebbe now it's got broken an' thar she is three miles out from shore with the wind blowin' her further all the while!" jack had banked by this time and was commencing to circle preparatory to dropping down in a glide. somehow what his mate had just said stirred his blood and without the first thought concerning their present errand he was listening to the call of humanity. after all there was no need of undue haste while on this business of the government. they had made the start, perk's impatient mood had been successfully muzzled, and if they found occasion for any reason to delay their progress while en route to their distant destination, it would be all right. "how about it now?" he sang out a little later when they had reached a ceiling of less than a thousand feet. "jest like i was sayin' partner," replied perk promptly. "it's a girl then?" asked the pilot. "sure is, an' a slip o' a youngster in the bargain, not over ten or twelve years old, i'd say on a guess. an' let me tell you, jack, she's keepin' up that wavin' her flag like fun--guess now she's skeered we'll give her the go-by." "we've got to drop down on the lake then, that's clear," said jack, just as though it was imperative to attempt the rescue of the youthful castaway, once her serious plight had come to their notice. "some rough sleddin' for us, partner," mentioned perk to quickly add: "but shucks! what o' that, with you holdin' the stick. our boat c'n stand the racket okay. on your way, partner!" jack was now able to see for himself without the aid of glasses. there could be no question as to perk having struck the absolute truth when he declared it was a question of life and death for the frightened occupant of the dainty little canvas canoe that was bobbing up and down in the rising waves like a floating cork. yes, he could even make out what looked like a broken spruce paddle lying in the bottom of the tiny craft as though it had played the paddler a treacherous trick just when she needed it the most and been cast aside as useless. he dropped still lower, with a practiced eye keeping tabs of the wind and waves that were being kicked up. then came the contact between the pontoons and the roughening surface of the lake--a considerable commotion followed, but the admirably built aluminum floats did their expected duty and in a brief space of time they were safely established on the heaving waters, not more than thirty feet away from the young and distressed mariner. again the rat-tat-tat of the engine was heard as jack turned on full power, knowing he had a combination of wind and waves to beat. the spray flew quite briskly and perk let out one of his joyous whoops as, amidst all this clamor, they continued to taxi in the direction of the bobbing punkin-seed as he had called the drifting canoe. the young girl had ceased waving the white object which jack strongly suspected might be a piece of her own clothing, torn off in desperation when she feared her lone chance of rescue might pass by, leaving her to a cruel fate. she was kneeling in the tossing boat, staring toward the approaching strange craft--an airship that could navigate the lake as though by magic, something she undoubtedly had never witnessed before, even though planes must be a familiar sight, seen far up in the heavens as they journeyed back and forth on their individual errands. so they soon came alongside the helpless canoe and jack was telling his pal just how it would be best to get the girl aboard. her craft of course would have to be abandoned, since it was out of the question for them to taxi head-on over that water, growing constantly rougher as the wind rose higher with the shore something like three miles distant. after all the safety of the girl was the main thing they must keep in view--a canoe only represented a small amount of money but a human life was priceless. perk made ready to assist the wretched skipper of the frail craft aboard, although it required considerable maneuvering on the part of the pilot to fetch the ship around so that the contact could be effected. at the proper moment perk reached out his hand and once he clutched that of the girl he knew the rescue was as good as accomplished, for he would never let go. in this queer fashion then was a third inmate of the ship's cabin installed and the canoe allowed to drift away. the girl was too much agitated just then to bemoan the loss of her treacherous little shallop, for sinking down on her knees she burst into violent sobs the result of her late terror. but their main object had been attained and now to get out of this rough sea. x in a snug harbor it turned out to be rather a wet job, forcing the amphibian along against the waves and the wind, constantly increasing in vigor and both of them, as well as the girl, were more or less soaked before sufficient speed could be attained to permit the boat to swing upward and take to the air. superior skill accomplished jack's end at last and they left the agitated surface of the lake to ascend and head toward the shore. of course there was no way of asking the questions perk had on the tip of his tongue, since she could not possibly hear anything he might say, what with the clamor of motor exhaust and spinning propeller, together with the shrill whistle of the wind amidst the struts. but then according to perk's mind there was no need of hearing any explanation, for it was all so simple--the girl had foolishly ventured out farther than discretion warranted in such a frail craft then the sudden rising of wind and waves had alarmed her, and she must have plied her paddle with such good will that suddenly it had snapped in the middle where possibly a knot in the wood had proved to be its weakness, leaving her helpless far from land and with a storm gathering. no wonder the poor child was frightened--any man might have felt a chill passing over him as he contemplated his slender chances of being saved. and strangest of all, it had been no rescuing boat from the shore that arrived in time to take her aboard, but an airship dropping down from the clouds in the most miraculous way that could ever be imagined. it was now their bounden duty to get her ashore as quickly as possible, for probably her folks would have discovered that she was missing and filled with fears, were at their wits end to figure how they could discover her whereabouts and go to her assistance. imagine their amazement when looking far out over the heaving waters they discovered a sky-scraper zooming along, suddenly make downward swoops and presently float upon the lake, for what object they could only surmise and feed their sinking hearts with wild hopes. then to see the airship again taking wing, and even head toward the land, must have filled them with a wild enthusiasm. jack knew very well what sort of reception he and his chum would be apt to receive and was determined to avoid it if possible, even to the point of seeming unmannerly. he could not enjoy the thought of being made to pose in the role of a hero when all they had done was of a most ordinary character. "see that crowd gathering on that little dock--she pointed to it, an' tried to let me know it was where she came from." perk was calling in the pilot's ear as he himself thrust out his hand and called jack's attention to the excited little group of gesticulating, waving people. the girl was once more making use of her distress flag, but now her face was lighted up with enthusiasm rather than flooded with despair for she must begin to feel like some fairy-book maiden being brought safely back to her father's palace after being torn from the castle of the odious ogre--that is about what her sensations must be, jack was telling himself, if she had a spark of romance in her makeup, which was very likely the case. jack went about carrying out his plans by cutting off the engine and gliding down toward the water, comparatively smooth so close to the shore for the wind just then was coming off the land. they struck with a great splash and the impetus almost sufficed to carry the amphibian to the outer edge of the miniature wharf, suitable only for small boats. eager hands were held out to the girl, already leaning far over and in danger of falling overboard in her desire to reach her dear ones. but zealous perk kept hold of her until she could be drawn up by many willing hands to be fairly smothered with a multitude of kisses, the women in particular showing their enthusiasm in this regard. "push off!" jack told his chum who was kneeling there, gazing at the riotous scene, his face decorated by one of his customary grins. so it happened that a minute or so afterwards, when the tattoo of the working motor startled the group around the girl, to their astonishment and dismay as well, they discovered the rescuing airship moving rapidly away. in vain did they hold out their hands and beckon as though actually pleading to the airmen to come ashore and accept their warm thanks for saving the life of the one so dear to their hearts. both jack and perk smiled, but only shook their heads in the negative as they passed further away from the little landing with its excited group. there was perk sending kisses back with all his soul and jack could see that this was for the benefit of the little girl, who, pushing to the front of the milling crowd was blowing kisses after them, as if in her heart she must let them know how grateful she felt for what they had done. that was quite enough for jack--the memory of the little deed would often arise in his mind and make him all the more satisfied that he had not waited to listen to the applause of those good people who must likely enough always believe it was about the only case on record where two gallant chaps who had actually done a creditable deed, refused to be lionized because of their modesty. perk was again paying some attention to the weather, for those black clouds seemed to be gathering thicker than ever toward the southwest aid from the signs, it would not be difficult to prophesy the coming of a fairly savage summer storm. "going to be some buster, seems like to me, boss," mentioned perk with a hint in his voice as if he would be pleased to hear what his comrade thought of the proposition and likewise what course they should pursue in order to escape as much of the coming turmoil as lay in their power. "between you and me and the lamp-post, brother," jack remarked a bit seriously, "i don't seem to hanker much about climbing in hopes of getting through all that black mess, it's got a venomous look to me as though it might turn out to be one of those electrical twisters we've heard about. i've half a mind to run in closer to the shore in hopes of finding some sort of a point heading out into the lake behind which we could run and be sheltered from the worst of the blow. how about that, perk?" "sounds good to me, ol' hoss an' by the same token i kinder guess i just sighted the cape we want, a mile or so ahead there." he pointed as he spoke to what looked like a fairly sizable point that jutted out from the shore and behind which they would undoubtedly find a lagoon deep enough for their purpose. "yes, i see what you mean and here we go licketty-split for that headland," jack told him without loss of time. indeed, the grumble of distant thunder had by now grown more like a roaring lion or a bull alligator in a swamp, challenging a rival to deadly combat. "the closer we get the better i like that cape," perk was saying as he continued to stare through the glass, "it's pretty high land and ought to shield us fairly well from any blow i'm glad to say, 'cause the wings o' the best ship ever built are kinder weak stuff and likely to be blowed away in a gale when held fast by an anchor or hawser." jack was picking the proper spot on which to alight--of course that would be on the water, but then it would be an easy matter for them to taxi around the point and find a safe harbor if things were as they pictured them. this program was duly carried out without the slightest difficulty. the friendly tongue of high land proved all they could have hoped for and jack readily drove his boat around its tip, to bring up further on where the ground rose to its maximum height. "looks okay to me, perk," he called out as he stopped his motor. "couldn't well be bettered i'd say, partner." "then drop the mudhook, and see what kind of holding bottom you get," jack told his mate which perk proceeded to do without loss of time. thus they found themselves apparently sheltered in safety behind a barrier that should hold back the riotous winds as well as the waves that would soon be beating heavily against it. with the cabin for shelter they would not have anything to complain about, unless the storm should turn into a regular cyclone and jack could hardly conceive such a thing possible away out there on the shore of great salt lake, far removed from the hurricane districts of the mexican gulf. xi a stormy night by this time the forerunners of the gale had arrived with considerable electrical display and reverberating thunder. of course the two flyers had removed their ear-phones since the motor lay silent and the whirlwind propeller had also ceased to spin around with incalculable speed but when the thunder began to roar at its loudest they found it necessary to shout in order to make themselves heard. "say, promises to be some screecher, b'lieve me!" was the way perk put it when an extraordinarily loud crash almost burst their eardrums, the preceding flash having seared their eyes and nearly blinded them. "some fireworks for a fact," conservative jack admitted frankly, "didn't reckon on such an exhibition so soon. but see here, perk----" "yeah!" snapped the other, showing his readiness to act if anything was needed along the order of further security from the rain that was now drenching the shore line as if a cloud had burst. "seems to me you're forgetting something, partner," continued jack. "as what, boss?" "isn't it about time for _grub_?" demanded jack whose face was set in a grin a sudden flash of lightning disclosed. "je-hos-i-phat! if that ain't the very first time i ever did forget such a thing as eats!" burst out the chagrined co-pilot. "that's a fact, it is our time for attendin' to the gnawin' down below-stairs. wait up, buddy, an' i'll fix things up okay in a jiffy." he was as good as his word, although the measure of action he mentioned has never as yet been exactly settled. perk knew just where he had put his supplies and trotted them out with alacrity, likewise undoubted pleasure for that sacred rite of eating was one of the duties the war veteran always stood by manfully. undoubtedly both of them had partaken of meals under many peculiar conditions but if their comments had any bearing on the subject never before had they dined under such frightfully noisy accompaniments as right then with the cannonading from heaven's heavy artillery constantly booming, the wind howling like a pack of maddened wolves and the waves smashing against that little rocky ridge that sheltered them so bravely. perk had lighted the stub end of a candle so that they might not be in complete darkness, for it was as though midnight had arrived, especially between the vivid flashes as streaks of lightning went zigzagging athwart the black dome overhead. calmly they continued to munch their sandwiches and take occasional sips of hot coffee from the thermos bottle, perk having supplied a couple of large aluminum cups for the occasion. "don't seem to let up any that i c'n notice," remarked perk later on when they had taken the edge off their appetites. "weather fooled me that time for certain," added jack frankly, "but then i never did claim to be a good hand at guessing what was coming along in this line. government reports have always served me decently and even they can't always be depended on. this upset may last most of the night for all we can tell." "who cares?" sang out perk, gaily enough. "i worked in a boiler factory in my salad days an' got used to all kinds o' rackets. nary a drop o' rain gets in here, you notice comrade, thanks to the swell cabin we've got over our heads. huh! how many times have i gone through big storms in the open cockpit o' an old-fashioned crate. been bombarded too aplenty by half a hundred big guns, with shells bursting every-which-way around. seems like a feller c'n git used to near anything if on'y he runs up against it often enough." "snug as two bugs in a rug," agreed jack lightly. "here we'll stick it out tonight and go on after morning breaks--no hurry, remember, brother--just take things as they come along and keep in trim for the big push later on." "that's the ticket, jack, boy--it sure wins out in the end--no blunders, jest every move carried out like machine work an' we're sure to come in smilin' at the windup." later on there was a little letup in the violence of the storm and perk even felt encouraged enough to predict that the worst was over with possibly a nice, peaceful night's rest ahead. this, however, proved to be a false deduction on his part for once again the thunder rose to a deafening pitch, with a wind of such velocity that jack himself felt a little uneasiness, not on account of his own security, but because of the great damage he fancied the surrounding country would suffer in consequence of wind and flood. "danged if the ol' thing ain't turned turtle on us an' got started on the back track agin!" complained the humbled perk. "what i know 'bout weather you could stick in a thimble!" "but you're wrong when you say it's backed upon us," jack told him pointedly, "for the wind is still coming from the same old quarter, this is only another section of the same old storm." "huh! running this train in sections are they?" continued the disgusted perk, "wall, i on'y hope they ain't too many more parts to the contraption--i've seen quite enough a'ready." having finished their supper they made themselves as comfortable as the conditions allowed. jack got to figuring, as usual, for he was a great hand at laying out his plans in black and white for reference when the time for action arrived. perk was poring over some clippings he had picked up at some time or other and which appeared to be of special interest to him. it was indeed a most eccentric storm, now waning and giving promise of expiring, anon picking up again and squeezing out considerable more water to help finish the flooding of the earth. tiring of his reading with a poor light, perk had for some little time been lying there so quietly that jack half suspected he might have passed into dreamland. suddenly he gave a loud grunt and exclaimed: "reckon now it might be jest plain barrowman--an' yet somehow that don't seem to sound quite right--how 'bout baxter--banister--brockman--shucks! what ails me anyhow--my bean ain't worth a red cent when it comes to 'memberin' names--guess i must be goin' a bit loco an' next thing i know i'll have to sew my own name on my coat in case i forget it." jack only chuckled, knowing that his chum was going through the same old game of cudgeling his treacherous memory with the usual poor results as of yore. later still, and both of them seemed to get more or less sleep though the storm kept up a growling and threatening for hours, as if not content with such damage as it must have already done. finally perk, aroused by signs of daylight, looked out and was highly pleased to discover that not only had dawn really arrived, but that there was not a single cloud to be seen in the entire heavens. "hi! partner, wake up!" he called out, "mornin's got here an' that pesky row-maker's cleared out for keeps--goin' to have a clear day for our flight to spokane. after such a devil o' a blow i kinder guess we might look for fair stuff a hull week o' sundays. but hold on, i forgot i was sech a poor weather sharp, so don't count on anything i might say--i jest don't know what they got laid up for us flyers, an' that's a fact." they had a very decent breakfast, for perk hunted up some dry wood, he calling himself a maine woods guide these days it appeared, and consequently able to skirmish suitable fuel, even after such a drenching downpour. then, after starting a cooking fire he produced a lightweight skillet, also a pound of sliced breakfast bacon, some strips of which he proceeded to fry as though quite accustomed to playing the role of camp cook. then too, he had a new aluminum coffeepot which he meant to christen on that occasion so the appetizing odors of these two breakfast mainstays soon spread around the entire community, doubtless much to the wonder of various chipmunks and red squirrels that frisked here and there among the trees. jack said nothing, only nodded his head at witnessing these wonderful revelations as if things suited him all right. trust sagacious perk to make ample preparations for the numerous meals they would have to count on while engaged in the future tasks certain to be given into their charge from time to time. xii the lay-over at spokane there was no trouble whatever about getting off after jack had checked his motor and the rest of their ship so as to make certain nothing had suffered during the sway of that extraordinary storm. as they went along, still keeping above the lake shore much of the way, perk frequently called out as he discovered by use of the binoculars some particular damage done by the unwelcome visitor of the preceding afternoon and night. trees were down and obstructing the highway between the various towns--several houses he noticed appeared to have chimneys toppled over or, as was the case in one sad instance, have a tree fall directly on the roof and occasion considerable damage. presently they had left the lake in their wake and were also changing the line of their flight more or less. jack had laid out his plan and felt positive of being able to strike their distant goal in due time, even if he did not have the beacons of the air-mail flyers to guide him. somewhere about noon they glimpsed a city ahead which of course must be none other than spokane. shortly afterwards they were circling above the aviation field and gradually lowering so as to strike the proper spot. in these air-minded times the coming of a strange plane no longer excited an undue amount of curiosity, since a multitude of private aircraft were daily scouring all sections of the country from florida to the canadian border and between both oceans--as perk was fond of saying they'd soon become as common as dirt. no sooner had they made contact with the ground than jack, followed by his companion, jumped out to be greeted by several parties in the same class as themselves--pilots, mechanics and field workers. it was no trouble to get the use of a hangar, since there chanced to be several vacant ones for hire. so too did jack see fit to engage a promising looking man to stand by their ship and make certain no one tampered with it. a good judge of faces, jack felt certain he had picked out a dependable man for this duty so that his mind might be free from any worry while in the city attending to his particular business. perk, for some reason or other did not seem to care about accompanying him--doubtless in the belief that he would in due time hear everything from his partner. perhaps too perk did not happen to have just as much confidence in the hired guard as jack seemed to feel. the remembrance of that burned garage and badly injured pitcairn mailwing crate may have still remained too fresh in his memory to let him recklessly abandon their ship in the midst of a strange airport. jack was just as well pleased, for he could carry out his business with better results if the talkative perk were absent although of course jack would never be guilty of letting his chum know this little fact. perk, having eaten a dry snack before they landed, was not very hungry and he had told jack to be sure and get his dinner at some restaurant while in the city, so that part of the day's doings was taken care of nicely. it was several hours afterwards when jack showed up again. perk could not notice anything about his appearance to suggest that a monkey wrench had been dropped in the machinery of their projected flight, hence he took it for granted jack must have had a gratifying confab with mr. robert mills maxwell, to whom he had been directed to apply, a government official who would be able to give him the latest news concerning the notorious hawk and his lawless doings up there in the northwest territory where the canadian mounted police held sway. perk beckoned to his pal to join him, for at the time he happened to be sitting on a bench not far distant from their hangar and had made up his mind the spot would be an admirable one for them to have their little council of war, after jack had detailed his adventures in the city. "how's things?" perk started in by asking in a general way. "all serene," came the ready answer accompanied by a nod. "i spent nearly an hour and a half with mr. maxwell and found him a most agreeable sort of a gentleman. it was certainly a pleasure to sit and chat with him. he gave me the latest information and just now i'll only say there is to be no change in our program--the whole thing goes through as we figured it." perk showed signs of sheer pleasure. "hot ziggety dog! but i'm right glad to hear that, partner," he remarked eagerly. "i sure do hate to swap hosses when crossin' a stream an' we got things pretty well set up as 'tis. how long will we be stickin' round this spokane airport, i wonder?" "perhaps we may take off in the morning, but a good deal depends on certain things. i may have to see mr. maxwell again if he sends out a message by telephone this afternoon. i'm still using my new name, you understand--he thinks it a bright idea, both now and later on when we'll be running across the trail of the man we want most to strike." "huh! mister john jacob astorbilt, o' course an' by the same token i'm gabe smith, esq., from the glorious state of maine an' known as one o' the slickest woods guides goin'. whoopee! nothin' like layin' it on thick when you're about it. but i want to say that i'll breathe easier after we cut loose from all these strange airports an' strike the open away up in the canadian bush country." "nothing to worry about that i can see, brother," jack said soothingly, "i can guess what's on your mind and that was a sad sight i admit, seeing such a dandy craft nearly ruined by the fire but i've got a dependable man to watch things here tonight and even if we have a single enemy in spokane, which i doubt, he'll never get a show down to injure our fine ship." "mebbe so jack, an' already i feel a bit more confidence in the chap you picked up. i've been chattin' with him--he's a married man with a wife an' two kids. more than that i've learned he was raised in that great old state o' maine an' not fifty miles, as the crow flies, away from the place where i fust saw daylight. guess now he's okay. we both seem to have knowed a number o' boys an' that kinder makes it feel like we'd been neighbors. yep, i guess ike hobbs is on the square. mebbe now i might take a notion to run in with you this afternoon, so's to get some eats an' see a picture--been an age since i had a chance to enjoy myself laughin' at one o' them comics on the screen. how 'bout the place you took dinner at--good enough to stand an encore, buddy?" that was the real perk all over again--food appealed to him as regularly as the hour rolled around three times a day, and seven days in the week. jack laughed to hear his comment, and went on to reassure him. "plenty good i reckon, perk old boy and i'll take pleasure in steering you around to the place this evening. be sure to have your appetite along for they've got a menu almost a yard long so you can have a wide choice." "oh! you c'n depend on me carryin' my appetite wherever i wander--jest can't nohow get away from it--haunts me like my shadow an' has ever since i c'n remember. they tells me i never could get filled up like most kids, no matter how they chucked it into me. any real particular news come your way down thar in town, jack?" "a little that was interesting, i'd call it," came the reply, "although it may be we'll never be called upon to handle the proposition but mr. maxwell did seem to be a heap interested in the game and i sure enough promised to help him out, if we chanced to run smack into one of those mule trains." "what's that, buddy? je-ru-sa-lem crickets! an' do we expect to try an' rustle stolen mules this time? wall, i never 'spected the time'd come when i'd be a mule wrangler o' all things!" "hold everything and go slow about making up your mind," warned jack, visibly amused by perk's evident floundering, "this doesn't happen to have anything to do with mule punchers or even rustlers. it's only a little possible sideline that might happen to develop and of which mr. maxwell would have to be advised should we strike pay dirt--that's all, perk." "in that case," admitted the now reconciled perk, "mebbe i might stand for even mules in my itemary or whatever it is i'm aimin' to say. i seen the stubborn critters do some mighty fine work over there in france--mules that came all the way from missouri in the bargain. but whatever can it be mules has got to do with coaxin' us to turn aside from our main trail, i'd like to know?" "just what i'm going to tell you, if you give me half a chance, brother," explained jack. "here's a little clipping that will explain the whole thing that's got mr. maxwell keyed up to a high pitch," and he passed a strip taken from a newspaper to the now deeply interested perk. xiii over the mountain trails this then was what the deeply interested perk read as he sat there on the isolated bench at the spokane flying field and it can easily be understood the startling information he soaked in thrilled him to the core: "the government agents have been informed of what they suspect will prove to be a gigantic conspiracy to smuggle liquor in immense quantities across the border from canada into this territory, carried out in an original manner never before attempted and which has thus far met with unqualified success. "this conspiracy, it is believed, has resulted in bringing many thousands of dollars worth of rum over the line, which has been distributed among the numerous cities of our northwestern country. several rum rings have, from all accounts, been using pack trains, often well camouflaged, in order to avoid contact with customs officers who might be abroad watching for undesirables. "these clever smugglers, it appears, adopted numerous devices to hide the long lines of plodding, liquor-laden animals and at times it is claimed they have even driven the mules over united states forestry service trails. "so systematized are the wide-spread operations of the rum rings said to be that a 'traffic manager' has been employed to route the many pack trains from canada to secluded places opposite the sparsely settled and mountainous okanogan country in north central washington. "further accounts say that the pacific manager also watches the weather and when it snows sends white mules along the trails, the animals blending with the whiteness of the landscape. when the ground is bare--bay animals carry the liquor. "an old time packer who knows how to use the 'diamond hitch' in strapping pouchlike containers onto the animals' backs it is claimed is employed to load the mules. "heavily armed guards accompany the liquor trains to prevent hijackers from stealing the packs. whisky and wines are being transported over the winding trails, and upon arrival at the liquor depot all goods smuggled over the border are loaded into automobiles for transportation into many cities throughout the northwest." "well, what do you think of that for a corking dodge?" asked jack when he saw that his companion had gone through the entire clipping. perk shrugged his shoulders quaintly in a way that stood for a good many words, but he only said: "gosh amighty! but don't it beat all how some men'll go to such heaps o' trouble jest to make a livin', taking all sorts o' chances to get plugged with hot lead or grabbed up and sent to the pen for a spell?" "it's the day for reckless engineering," declared jack soberly enough, "with a gold mine always just ahead of the risky scheme. i've heard of some queer games being tried out in connection with the smuggling racket but up to now never had a whisper of anything like the mule pack-train steer." "huh! and do you reckon there's any truth in what this paper says or did it jest boil up in the brain o' one o' them reporters, eh jack ol' hoss?" "that's what's bothering mr. maxwell, it happens," returned the other composedly. "you see, he's responsible to uncle sam for keeping things in decent order up here in oregon and washington and if such rackets as this can be put through right under his nose, it's bound to get him in bad with the government. that accounts for him asking me to send him word if we chanced to learn anything worth while about these so-called mule pack-trains, since it would be of some assistance in helping him stamp out the trick." "course then partner," went on the eager perk, "you told the gent we'd be on'y too glad to lend a helpin' hand 'cause to be sure he a'ready knows we're connected with the secret service an' runnin' in the same class as he does?" "that's about the gist of what i told him, perk and that if the opportunity came our way we'd even go to a lot of trouble so as to help him out. to be sure there might be one chance in ten for us to pick up any worth-while clue but that's dependent on little lady luck, as i've heard you say many a time when we were almost muzzled with uncertainty and looking for a lead." "i'm bound to say the further i get to figgerin' 'bout this queer racket, jack, the more i like it. think o' glimpsin' a long string o' mules up in them mountain passes, streamin' along jest like a desert caravan across there in africa. i've always wanted to lamp such a picture." evidently perk was all keyed up to do everything in his power to lend a helping hand to the government representative in spokane of whom jack had said so many nice things. he soon settled down after they had lost all trace of the city in the mining sector of the northwest and proceeded first of all to carry out his accustomed duties with regard to the ship and then when he had time on his hands to begin using his glasses. it was well worth the trivial effort it cost, that grand view of the mountainous section of country over which they were passing. here and there perk could spy little lakes of clear water nestling in secluded valleys or basins and from his elevated position as observer, looking very much like gems in a bold setting. "like as not," perk was telling himself as he looked longingly down on a particularly lovely little sheltered sheet of water, "no white man has ever yanked a gay old trout out o' that lake up to this day! gee whiz! what wouldn't i give to be settled down alongside that 'ere pond a'flippin' my gang o' flies out over that water an' playin' a three-pound speckled beaut! but no sech luck i kinder guess--not this trip anyway." they were soon drawing closer to where jack told him the international boundary between the states and canada lay. of course they would not be apt to know just when they crossed over, since there would be nothing to mark the actual dividing line as happened in europe where every country is so jealous of the others that each road is guarded, with passports having to be shown and stamped. his interest grew with their further advance for he could not help remembering what jack had said concerning those bold international smugglers who were supposed to be continually crossing over from the north with their mule packs laden heavily with the forbidden beverage that was in such great demand among certain circles of law-scoffers. "say, mebbe now," perk told himself at one time--for he had the bad habit of communing with himself on occasion and even seemed to take considerable pleasure in so doing--"i wouldn't be tickled some if on'y i happened to glimpse one of them caravans pullin' through a twistin' mountain trail like i c'n see right down yonder this very minute! an' wouldn't it gimme a heap o' pleasure to swoop down so's to drop a few o' them tear bombs like i did when we blew up the fightin' rum-smugglers and the hijackers that meant to take away their cargo the time we were doin' our huntin' on the gulf coast o' florida!"[ ] he laughed softly at the recollection of what must have been a pretty stirring piece of action, to judge from what perk was saying. then he applied himself with renewed energy to his task of watching that winding mountain trail that vanished again and again, only to bob up shortly afterwards. "hugh! somethin' seems to tell me that 'ere must be a well traveled trail an' leadin' down from the north in the bargain," perk went on to remark as if deeply interested. "i cal'late one o' them 'ere pack mule trains might bob up along that path, if thar's any truth in the stories goin' around and keepin' mister robert mills maxwell awake nights. it'd be a shame if we missed connections when i know jack'd give a heap jest to set eyes on the show. too bad that we'll be losin' all our chances right soon when we strike off to the west. can you tie it for keepin' a poor feller's nerves all on edge?" a few minutes afterwards perk might have been seen to suddenly become rigid, centering his attention on a certain point ahead as though something had caught his strained vision that kept his eyes glued fast. jack, intent on his own thoughts and watching his dials with the fidelity of an air pilot who believed in the slogan of safety first, had not become aware of perk's preoccupied condition so that it gave him something of a little thrill when he felt the other nudge him in the ribs and remark with his peculiar drawl: "hot ziggetty dog, partner! did i hear you say _mules_?" ----- footnote : see "eagles of the sky." xiv the bootleg pack-mule train "what's up?" demanded jack as if he could surmise from his companion's peculiar question that perk had made a pleasing discovery of some kind. "lady luck's gone an' picked us out again to play us for favorites, ol' hoss," perk told him, at the same time half rising in his eagerness to point out something far ahead. jack possessed very good eyesight and as the sun chanced to favor him just then he could manage to make out a snake-like line of small objects that appeared to be moving slowly along in zigzag fashion, evidently following a crooked mountain trail that wound upwards toward the peak of the divide. "so, that's one of them, is it?" jack burst out, himself a bit thrilled by the spectacle after having heard so much concerning the pack-mule trains said to have been adopted by the venturesome souls engaged in smuggling operations across the canadian border. "with the glass here, jack, i c'n make 'em out all to the good," declared the excited perk--"a fairly big caravan in the bargain, the mules loaded for keeps an' toilin' along jest like they do down in mexico whar motor cars ain't so plentiful or cheap. whee! what a sight for sore eyes that is, buddy! seems like you'll have somethin' to wire mister maxwell after all. nothin' o' a newspaper yarn 'bout _that_ bunch, let me tell the world. must be all o' twenty animals in that string with several boobs mounted on hosses an' armed in the bargain, 'cause i c'n see the sun glintin' from guns they're holdin' as they ride ahead o' the line an' in the rear to boot." "that goes with the rest of the story, perk," said jack as he started toward a lower altitude as though wishing to secure a better view of the moving cavalcade in order to make assurance doubly certain. "you remember we read in that clipping how they carried an armed guard along to defend the caravan in case it was held up by a bunch of hijackers. queer how these law-breakers make war on each other in cities, the wilderness, and even along the salt water coasts." "huh! got to be a part o' the game these days," grunted wise perk, "jest like the fish-hawk drops down with a rush, grabs up a fat fish from the lake or lagoon and in turn is robbed by the lordly eagle. i kinder guess now that's about where they got the idea o' hijackin'--snatched a leaf from nature in fact. but say, what are we goin' to do 'bout this thing--why do you strike down closer, i want to know, jack?" "we ought to get a better look in, for one thing," he was informed, "and if you could only work that little camera of mine once or twice so as pick up to a telltale picture of the caravan, it would be the finest evidence we could send by mail to mr. maxwell!" "glory! that's a great scheme, boy--watch my smoke! i'm some photographer when it comes right down to brass tacks an' i'll prove it by gettin' you the smartest pictur goin' an' that's no lie either." perk seemed to know just where everything aboard the big ship could be laid hold of in what he would call jig-time for almost as he spoke he was clutching the small but excellent camera that jack owned, he being something of a crank along that particular line. "i'm meaning to swing around once or twice while lowering the ship," he explained to his companion so that perk might not waste a single cartridge of film in taking a snapshot prematurely, with distance as a handicap. "go to it, partner," sang out his mate quite merrily, "i'll do my little bit when you gimme the word. got her all fixed up for distance an' the sun happens to be jest right--say, ain't that a sweet sight, though with them mules cavortin' like they might be scared by such a monster bird sailin' over their stupid ol' heads? an' see the guards swingin' around, shakin' them guns at us like they meant to shoo us off by lookin' fe-rocious! zowie! but this is a heap int'restin' i'm sayin', eh jack?" "i bet you!" came the short answer, jack being so taken up with staring at the greatly disturbed pack-train under the swinging airship that he could not find time for further words just then. not so loquacious perk who never knew when to hold his breath since he was peculiarly gifted along that line and could work as well as gabble at the same time. "seems like they jest don't know what to think 'bout seein' an airship sailin' over their heads," he went on to say aloud, "an' i kinder guess now some o' them begin to smell a mouse. think things ain't goin' to run so slick and greased as they've been doin' right along. another dip like that, buddy, ought to fetch me close enough to get the snap on the bloomin' bunch." there he held up--for a brief interval. the fact was perk had not run out of breath but was only so intensely occupied with trying to fix his little camera so that the lens would take in the whole of the lagging mule-pack train that he forgot to keep on speaking. really it did seem as though some kindly fortune had conspired to afford all possible assistance in order to successfully carry out this little racket on the part of perk. just as his waiting finger pressed the button the entire cavalcade came to a sudden stop. indeed, if the actors, both two-legged and four-hoofed had intended to make a grand-stand play to the galleries they could hardly have bettered the conditions. perk did not stop at his first exposure but with a commendable rapidity turned on another portion of the reel and once again pressed the button, after which he burst into a roar of ecstatic delight. "got it that time boys, sure thing an' i bet you all looked pretty for the set-up. hoopla! jack, that was a great snap you gave me an' chances are, mister--er, hey, what's this mean?" he bellowed the last few words and with a very good reason for something had come to pass that perk had not reckoned on as part of the program. there was the sudden rattle of firearms from below and--the motor having ceased functioning while jack continued his smooth dive--all around them could be heard a strange hurtling, hissing sound which an old experienced war veteran like perk instantly knew must be made by savagely menacing bullets passing in close juxtaposition to their ship. then jack had the situation in hand again as he pulled the stick back against his chest and with a shrill rat-tat-tat they were once more shooting at an upward slant through space, jack putting his craft through all sorts of angles in hopes of further causing the sharpshooters to miss connection. perk had instantly dropped the camera, though luckily it did not go over the side as might have happened. jack knew his mate was making a swift sweep with his hand and could give a fairly shrewd guess what his object might be, knowing perk's combative disposition as well as he did. the worst of the danger was really past, since they had made such a speedy getaway after that first lunge. anxious to hold the impulsive one in check, since nothing was to be gained from further aggravating the rum-runners, he continued to keep up that eccentric motion until they had climbed sufficiently to prevent perk from starting hostilities on their side. "swing around and let's go down once more partner," implored perk, keenly disappointed because his golden opportunity had given him the slip. "oh! i reckon it isn't worth while," replied jack evenly as though not nearly so stirred up as his chum seemed to be and as he thus spoke kept on going, with the ship headed due northwest by north. "but--see here jack, you don't mean to let 'em have the merry ha ha on us, i sure hope? why, it's got my blood het up to nigh the boilin' point right now. on'y a little slip so i c'n reach the blamed bunch with my machine-gun. for ol' times' sake i'd like to pepper that crowd good an hard! the nerve o' 'em, dustin' us with that shower o' lead! might have bust our biler an' then where'd we been, tell me? jest one swoop an' i'll be satisfied. i could get in a dozen shots before they'd have time to crawl under their' mules." but jack was obdurate to his wild entreaties. "no use perk," he told the other through means of the handy ear-phone apparatus. "they failed to do us any damage, though their intentions were plain enough and remember, 'he who laughs last laughs best'. if your snapshot turns out fairly decent it's bound to put a lot of those dangerous guys in the soup when mr. maxwell fits out a bunch of revenue men to round them up. in other words, brother, because of our little job today the chances are we've put the kibosh on this bootleg mule-train racket and for keeps in the bargain!" xv winging into the northland perk was still in a high rage because of their having been subjected to that shower of whistling lead. "for two cents--if you 'lowed me to do it partner," he boomed with many a shake of his head, "an' swooped down once more, i'd a let loose on them pesky jayhawkers an' rum-runners with my bully o' machine gun. it'd seem jest like ol' times come back agin an' you bet i'd a pickled a few o' the rattlesnake bunch!" "remember perk, we're not up here to pickle anybody. this is only what you might call a little side-show--the big round-up lies further north where we've been given a job to tackle--we're just on our way--that's the whole thing in a nutshell." as usual perk soon calmed down, being sensible enough to realize that no injury had been done either their ship or themselves. they had met up with a stirring little adventure and come out of the row with credit which ought to be satisfactory, on their side at least. "what dye s'pose them yaps think 'bout us flyin' so low down over their heads like we wanted to take a peep at the mule pack train?" he presently asked the one at the stick. "that's something we can only give a guess at," jack told him. "they're just naturally suspicious as all lawbreakers are and i reckon right now they're likely comparing notes to try and get a line on our standing." "huh! guess now you might mean whether they had anything to fear 'bout our ship or not, eh partner?" "that's the idea, buddy. up in this part of the country air craft are a rarity, i should say and they must be a whole lot suspicious after having us dip down as we did. i don't imagine any one saw that you were taking a snapshot of the pack train, for they had no glasses that i noticed." "oh! that part worked okay ol' hoss," quickly announced perk, "i didn't make any show when i snapped the gun off but we sure got 'em guessin' if i know my beans an' i figger i do. if you don't mind mentionin' the fact partner, how do you mean to get in touch with mister maxwell so's to let him know what's goin' on up here on these mountain trails?" "i'll find a way to do that before long," came the confident answer. "of course, he may not be able to lay a trap for this particular pack-train but they keep on coming, and like as not the next convoy will run up against a snag. mr. maxwell i imagine, is a corker of an operator, one who never lets the grass grow under his feet when there's need for quick action. some fine morning, after we get back from this trip, we'll be apt to read all about how this rum-running business with mules carrying the stuff over the mountains, has been smashed to a powder and all the head men put behind bars." "unless i'm away off my guess," further remarked the loquacious perk--who seemed wound up and just must keep going for so long before cooling off--"that clippin' said somethin' 'bout a warehouse on this side o' the line. reckon now there's anythin' in that report, jack?" "you're a little off the track there, brother," he was told. "no such thing as a warehouse was mentioned. it simply stated that it was believed the pack trains all centered at a certain point where they had big, powerful trucks in waiting to carry the smuggled cases to certain cities where they were in cahoots with the authorities--meaning of course, that the officers sworn to carry out the laws of the country and their own state, are taking graft and closing their eyes to what is going on." "huh! nice kettle o' fish when such things c'n go on with the jails so full now they're turnin' the real criminals out to make room for these pizen snakes in the grass." "that's none of our business, perk. we're only a part of the secret service layout with our work mapped out for us. when we've shown up with results, that's as far as we've got to consider--let the solons do the rest." something in jack's decisive manner of saying this must have warned the talkative one the matter had been threshed out as far as was needful for the time being and that it would be just as well if they relapsed into silence so as to consider other matters that were really more important. so perk clamped on the lid and talked only to himself for a long time afterwards, a sport that generally afforded him considerable joy and satisfaction. time passed, with their ship keeping up its swift passage, now close to the tops of outlying ridges and anon passing over valleys so far beneath the voyagers that objects to the naked eye assumed very diminutive proportions. no further mule pack-trains were sighted but then jack had considered this fact and had no expectation of meeting up with a second caravan. because of the existing necessity for guarding the high-priced booze they dealt in, so as to be prepared to resist an encounter with bandits known in the rum racket under the name of hijackers, the expeditions could only be sent off at stated periods and there might not be another for a week or two. it was all pretty wild country over which they swept as on the wings of an eagle heading for the breeding places of its species far up toward the arctic circle and in due time perk began to weary of staring down at such monotonous pictures. once they passed over a railroad and he felt thrilled by the thought that man's ability to invade the most inaccessible regions of the earth had put a bit and bridle into the mouth of even so wild a horse as such a land could be compared to in the mind of a visionary fellow like perk. on they went, still penetrating deeper into the mysterious northland and heading for that isolated post of the canadian mounted police that was said to be at the extreme edge of the uninhabited stretch lying south of those desolate barrens touching on the arctic regions where, according to perk's way of describing things, might be found the jumping-off place that gradually fades away into the near polar ice-cap. it was as jack had learned, a great country for pelts and with signs of gold cropping out of the soil in a myriad of places. the only living human beings likely to be met with would be lone trappers running lines of traps in the dreadful winter season, occasional daring prospectors and stray indian villagers during the summer when they carried on their annual hunt for meat to be cured for winter use. here too, might be found in secret hideouts more than a few fugitives from justice--men who had fled from the long arm of the law and lived the lives of hermits, their hand against all others and compelled by necessity to play the part of desperadoes. such a dominating character as the hawk would not be long amidst such surroundings before he gathered to his standard a select number of like bold spirits. these would be only too willing to follow him in his raids on the stores of isolated fur-takers, white or red, it mattered not, since all men looked alike in their eyes or making occasional more ambitious forays upon some outpost and trading center of the great hudson bay company. even the mounties it seemed had thus far been baffled in all their efforts to break up this powerful and elusive corporation of evildoers, so cleverly handled were the go-getters under the hawk that they had a rare faculty for slipping out of any trap set for them, just as the irishman's flea never was where he jabbed his finger down. it tickled perk's vanity considerably to think a problem that had so long been too much of a knotty one to be solved by those wonderfully smart members of the mounties had now, after a fashion, been transferred to the shoulders of himself and comrade--that the stern resolution on the part of the government at washington to recapture the criminal who had given the penitentiary at leavenworth french leave had so worked out as to form a sort of partnership between the secret service and the constabulary of the great northwest country. having himself served in the ranks with some of those mounties, it was puzzling perk tremendously as to just how his former comrades had fallen down on the job of bringing in the hawk. he had always believed that they never failed to get their man, sooner or later, being ready to follow him to the pole itself if necessary and to ease his worried mind of this strain he now, as usual, turned his batteries on jack once more. xvi baffled by head winds during the last hour or two their progress had not been so entirely satisfactory as they might have wished, on account of head winds that held them back more or less. this, however, did not give jack the slightest uneasiness for as he so often told his more impatient companion, they were in no haste and that more battles were won by slow resistless pressure than by mere swiftness, as history would testify. "jack," observed perk when he felt in dire need of receiving information on the special subject that was giving him distress, "c'n you put me wise jest how come the mounties ain't never yet been able to grab this hawk, as they call him--the feller we've set out to yank off'n his high perch? from what i know 'bout the boys, thar didn't ever come along any problem they couldn't straighten out. it's a sorter slogan, as you might call it, with the mounties that once they sets off on the track o' a marked man he's goin' to be fetched in, no matter how far he runs or how many pals he's got to back him up. i'm sure bothered a heap to know what's happened to the force if they've fallen down on this here job." jack made light of the matter, however. "nothing queer about that, partner," he told the mourning perk. "your friends the mounties are only human after all. it's true they've the reputation of always getting their man but you must take that with a grain of salt, perk. there must have been occasions--rare enough i'll grant you--when in spite of all they could do their game got away or else kept on giving them the slip until perhaps he got into a row with some of his own gang and was wiped out." "yeah! that does seem reasonable i own up, ol' hoss," perk admitted a bit against his will as the other could understand, "but this critter keeps on thumbin' his nose at 'em and playin' hob with decent folks' affairs. don't seem as if the boys might be keepin' up with the reputation they had when i chanced to be playin' in their backyard." "i wouldn't say that if i were you, perk," remonstrated jack, "we've got to consider that lots of changes have come along in the last few years to alter the conditions. for instance, just see what we're doing right now, hopping along so merrily at the rate of two miles a minute with nobody to hold us up. suppose the mounties were hot on the track of a desperado,--then all at once they heard a great clatter and saw an airship rising above the pines with two men aboard, one waving his hat at them and making gestures of disdain--what could they do about such a getaway? he could be a thousand miles distant in ten hours and none of them know whether he went south, east or out over the ocean." "hot ziggetty dog! i never did think o' that sorter thing, partner," confessed the awakened perk, knocking his fist gently against his head as if to stir up his sluggish brain so as to grasp the new condition of affairs as presented by his wideawake chum. "mebbe now the boys ain't dropped back any, it's on'y that the workaday world has gone an' bust up ahead--'less you keep abreast o' these here inventive times you soon git left in the lurch. airships that c'n run upside-down--radio that c'n span half the world so's a feller hears king george talkin' right over in london--talkin' movies that you could enjoy even with byrd down at the antarctic polar regions--gosh! it ain't no wonder if the mounties do once in a great while let their man slip away! we're livin' in too fast an age for old ways to bring in the bacon." apparently perk had plenty to think about since jack had enlightened him in this fashion, at any rate he asked no further questions but went about his various duties with a thoughtful face. now he was making a test to ascertain just how their supply of fuel was holding out and informing the pilot of the result, knowing how this must always be a matter of moment to any one getting so far away from the outskirts of civilization as they were then where they could have scanty hope of adding to their diminishing store in case of near exhaustion. but on comparing results perk found no cause for anxiety on this score, since his deductions corresponded with the figures previously obtained by his chum jack who had a decided flair for making accurate estimates in advance. perk made his customary rounds, investigating conditions and with a keen eye seeking the faintest indication of possible faults in the running of the airship. then that age-old trouble began to assail him and he realized that he had a most aggravating vacuum that really ought to be attended to if he wished to retain his peace of mind. the sun was as near the zenith and it was high time they had a snack calculated to carry them along until they found a chance to cook a real meal for since they would be apt to settle down with the approach of evening perk had already made up his mind he would have a genuine camp supper, memories of that recent feast seeming to haunt him most tantalizingly. possibly too, the tricky fellow may have had a few little surprises in the way of unusual supplies with which he hoped to bring a happy grin on the face of his comrade--an old scheme with perk by the way--one word for his pal and two for himself. another lovely little lake appeared way down below, making about a score they had glimpsed since starting out on the hop from spokane that morning, each one presenting some additional novel feature that caused perk to stare and admire. he even found himself wishing jack might finally decide to take advantage of the presence of a body of water where they could feel comfortable while the night lasted. later on perk figured on suggesting that idea to the pilot for indeed, since ground landing places were so few and far between in that mountainous country, it would seem as though such a policy might be the only one they could adopt. jack, when he saw the spread made by his chum, announced himself as ready to assist in making way with the food supply, though he would wait until perk had taken his toll when he meant to turn the stick over to him for a spell. this programme was duly carried out and no time lost. perk compared it to a traveler seated in the diner of a limited express train heading for los angeles or new york city. "but stop and think, brother, how old-fashioned you are right now," jack told him, his mouth well filled just then with the sandwich he was enjoying. "why, today they have cross-country airships that carry complete dining outfits with a first-class chef in attendance, also sleeping berths to be made up when night draws close. you'll have to get a move on, buddy, for the procession is already at your heels and threatening to take your number." perk grinned and knocked that head of his again. "guess you said somethin' that time, partner. these youngsters sure have old chaps like me on the run for keeps. but i got a notion there are a few things the ol' guys c'n still manage an' as long as i'm able i reckon to keep goin', with aviation my chief diet." "well," said perk, "never give up the ship as long as you've got an ounce of steam left in the boiler," and jack turned his head once more to the supply of dry food and cold coffee that perk had set out for his attention. an hour afterwards he insisted on taking the controls once more. perk, in hopes that he might be thinking of dropping down when some tempting lake came in sight, said nothing, though figuring on broaching the subject presently when the sun sank a little further toward the western horizon. the obstreperous head wind that had delayed them for so long still hung on, though very likely it would die out at sunset. if they had failed to cover all the ground such a run might have given them, at least they were far advanced on their way. then something happened, for suddenly perk missed the steady roar of the motor and on looking up discovered the ship was pointing down as though in a direct glide. his first belief was that, just as he had hoped, jack was bent on taking advantage of an opportunity to drop down on some lake ahead. "goin' to use the pontoons again, eh partner?" he called out as if to show his companion he himself had been figuring on the chances of doing that thing when to his amazement he heard jack saying in a steady voice: "case of necessity--got to make a dead-stick landing--hold yourself steady now, perk, and leave it to me!" xvii jack's dead stick landing perk proved game all right--not the least bit flustrated or upset but just took it as a matter of course--an incident likely to bob up in the checkered life of any airman and with which doubtless he had himself been acquainted in days that were long since gone. he did, however glance swiftly ahead toward the spot where in all probability, barring further accidents, the amphibian would be apt to make contact. "gee whiz! what born luck that guy does have!" was what flashed through his brain for what did he see before him but a sheet of water, one of those lovely little lakes over which they had passed again and again and which at all times had excited both his curiosity and his envy. "oh! if _on'y_ he c'n make it," perk kept saying half to himself and perhaps hardly conscious of his eagerness in the matter, for only too well did he know how lessened their chances of avoiding a bad crash would be if they could hit that water harbor when they struck on a slant. it was a critical moment for the success or failure of the entire expedition, for even though neither of them were killed outright they might be injured so seriously that the object of the flight must sink into oblivion in comparison with the task of getting the wounded one to a doctor. then in addition to those chances, what if their ship became totally disabled? at that distance from civilization it would be next to impossible for it to be salvaged and in consequence the costly amphibian would prove a total loss. no wonder then, that for the brief few seconds previous to their pontoons striking, both of the chums found their hearts ceasing to beat in so far as their knowledge told them--at any rate, they held their breath in anticipation of the worst. to be sure there was an enormous amount of splashing as though some ancient rock had chosen to alight in that little mountain lake. once perk was sure they must capsize and lose everything but just in the nick of time jack cleverly shifted his position and this seemed to right the boat. jack had done wonderfully, considering the handicap under which he labored. the spot where they struck was about two-thirds across the lake so that it turned out they had plenty of room to glide ahead after the first rude shock was over. the two occupants of the cabin boat turned, as if by some instinct, to grin at each other. no one, to observe their apparent indifference, would have dreamed what a close shave they had just encountered for landing with the stick absolutely inert is not the nicest thing in the world and has caused more than a few bad crashes in which life was snuffed out or at least sadly battered. "huh! couldn't a done it any better myself," remarked perk, making a wry face as though to tell his pal to interpret those words in the light of a joke which circumstances did not bother jack in the least. he had a high estimation of his comrade's abilities and pluck and rather fancied perk might be a bit better than himself in some things connected with flying. no ace is such a complete master of his calling that he has no rival worthy of the name. "well, we're down, seems like," ventured perk after taking a survey all around the wonderful little body of sparkling icy water where they had so miraculously dropped from near the clouds. "that part is attended to, and sooner than i had figured," stated jack with a shrug of his shoulders that spoke volumes. "say, was you meanin' to pick out one o' these lakes for a campin' place tonight, eh, ol' hoss?" demanded perk, "'cause i had it all fixed to coax you to do that thing. kinder hankerin' some for a layout ashore, where we c'n have a cookin' fire, an' stretch our legs as we feel like." jack nodded in the affirmative. "i had that all arranged in my mind, partner," he admitted, "but from the way things turned out, the ship didn't mean to wait on my pleasure. you'd think she had fallen in love with this special body of water, from the hurry she was in to make it. just the same we got off mighty lucky, boy." "sure did, jack, and now the next question is, can we hop off from here when the right time comes along?" "no trouble about that, i reckon," replied jack after a quick glance around. "these steep mountains shut things in kind of tight but just remember, brother, that these are not the old days, when ships needed a half mile down-grade runway so's to get up enough speed to be lifted from the ground and the same goes for an amphibian or seaplane." "hot ziggetty dog! guess you must mean the notched wings, eh, partner?" blurted out perk. "just so, and i calculate i can take her out of this hole in the mountains as slick as grease,--when we're ready to get busy," was jack's superbly confident declaration, said not as a boast, but with the calm assurance of one who knew what he was talking about. "wonder what did ail the boat to make that stick go dead so you couldn't get a wiggle outen it?" perk mused as though something brought his thoughts suddenly around to the fact that thus far neither of them had any thorough knowledge concerning this cause of the sudden forced landing. "we'll get around to that right away," the other told him, "but even if we should learn what we want to know, and must find out, there'd be no reason for us to climb out of this snug nest this afternoon that i can see." "bully for you, jack, ol' hoss, i was jest hopin' that'd be our programme. kinder took a likin' for these sweet little lakes an' wouldn't mind spendin' a night on the bank o' this one. might somethin' turn up to give us a whirl--never c'n tell, i guess, what's goin' on away off here in the wilds, where two-legged critters are as scarce as hens' teeth." that was the same old perk showing his deep-seated love for action. it had grown upon him over across the big water, at the time he was with the balloon corps in france, and became a part of his very nature ever since so that he could not keep from sighing for a change whenever stagnation set in. accordingly jack led the way and they began a minute examination of the stalled motor. both of them were more or less proficient in all matters connected with airplane engines, although it seemed as though a new species of trouble was springing up every little while, requiring fresh study in order to master the problem. a whole hour was spent in checking things up before jack discovered what ailed the hitherto perfect mechanism in which he had come to place the most implicit confidence. he proceeded to show perk what he had thus found out and to demonstrate the surest way to correct the fault. "after all, that's one on me," perk soon frankly admitted, "but i kinder guess you've solved the riddle, ol' hoss. next thing to find out is whether we c'n fix it out here so far from everything." "no great trouble about that, partner," said jack. "you play a while and let me dig around--not any too much room for two guys to work in and fact is i won't need any help--if i do i'll call you." "okay with me, jack, since our left wing jest tips the shore i guess i'll step off an' have a look around. everything looks quiet enough, so mebbe there'll be no need o' me luggin' that heavy machine-gun along." "suit yourself about that, partner," remarked jack in an absent-minded way, as though his thoughts were pretty much taken up with the job he had on hand. so perk went ashore and began to prowl around, that being one of his customary amusements when the opportunity presented itself. he walked here and there so as to get various glimpses of the glorious sheet of water--bent down and drank his fill, remarking upon its ice-cold character, coming as it did from melting snow on the caps of near-by mountains or possibly from some hidden glacier that dated back many centuries. all around him was a dead silence, broken from time to time by a chinking sound, made as he knew, by jack laboring at the stubborn motor. "huh! seems like this might be a dead country away up here," perk told himself as he continued to climb around among the masses of huge rocks that in the centuries past must have rolled down the abrupt slopes. "not a hoof or a claw movin', when i kinder spected to glimpse a bear mebbe or it might be a panther, p'raps a canada lynx." "hey perk!" he heard jack calling and then came the loud staccato notes of the motor, sounding as sweet music in perk's ears. xviii around the campfire the rejuvenated motor continued to sing most merrily as perk hastened to cover the back trail leading to the ship nesting upon the quiet lake. "huh! i jest knew jack could get the hang o' things," he told himself in high glee, "makes a big clatter i'll tell the world, but after you've been forced to drop down agin your will, they ain't nuthin' in natur so sweet as the drummin' o' a ship's motor. some fine day mebbe we'll have the good luck to be runnin' a boat with twin motors, so if one kicks off the duplicate c'n carry on." after he joined his mate and duly examined what jack had done, the sound of the beating motor ceased since there was no need of wasting any more juice to celebrate the happy occasion. "that trouble will never happen again with me," jack was saying with grim earnestness. "i know just how it must have come about and expect to put the kibosh on any repetition." "jest as you've said to me many a time, partner," perk spoke up, "an ounce o' prevention's a heap better'n a pound o' cure. learnin' somethin' new ev'ry day, seems like, but it's okay if on'y you keep the same trick from springin' up again an' gettin' your goat" they took things easy and lay around for another hour and more. jack, as usual, consulted his chart and did some figuring. perk, quite content to let the chief do most of the planning, amused himself in various ways, as was his habit when they were not flying. puttering with this little thing, poking around the stores as if to figure just how many more meals would exhaust what he had laid in so bountifully and bring them near starvation and tiring at length of this sort of thing he lapsed into inaction, puffing at his beloved pipe and indulging possibly in daydreams. once jack chanced to turn an inquiring eye in his direction to see him nodding his head, and counting his fingers, as though adding up some score. "at it again, i bet a cookey," jack thereupon told himself, holding back the casual remark he had intended making, "browsing on that same old game of trying to remember a name by going over the whole alphabet again and again. poor old perk, how that defective memory does bother him. he'll get no peace of mind until he happens to strike what he's fishing for and since i never did hear the boy's full name mentioned i just can't help him a mite." jack had guessed aright, for just then perk was saying to himself in a low but earnest tone, something of the old formula: "sufferin' cats! it sure began with an r i bet my boots! randolph, no, don't jest sound right to my ear--ratcliff, randall, ratterman--strikes me it ended in man--rodman--hang the luck, what the devil _is_ the matter with my think-box? did you ever know sech a tantalizin' mess--just openin' my trap to say it out loud when before i could get the right word out it slipped me like a wet cake o' soap on the bathroom floor when you set a foot on it. i'm sure hoodooed for keeps, an' it's no good." by this time the afternoon was wearing away and before long night would be putting a dark blanket over the deep notch in the mountains. perk suddenly came out of his fit of abstraction to remark cheerily: "guess now it's 'bout time i got busy ashore, an' started that 'ere fire. i gathered some firewood ready an' it ain't goin' to take much time to get supper goin'." accordingly he began to fill his arms with the things previously set aside, consisting for the most part of food, coffee pot, skillet and last but not least, the dependable machine-gun with which a provident government had fitted out its flying detective squad when starting them on their way to rounding up lawbreakers who were in many instances taking to the air. "call me when you're ready or need any help, brother," jack told him, he being still engaged in his extensive figuring and marking places on his handy little chart, as though mapping out his campaign as well as such a thing was possible. perk had his blaze going in almost record time, for he was an adept at fire-building. later on, from the delicious odors that came stealing to his olfactories, jack knew that supper was on the way. having by then finished his work, he laid things aside and for the next ten minutes watched the busy one on shore at his pleasing task. it was certainly a picture that was bound to arise again and again in jack's mind. the star-studded heavens against which towering mountain peaks were outlined, the lapping of little wavelets on the shore where there chanced to be a narrow strip of sandy beach, the neighboring small bunch of pines through which an evening breeze was sighing as if playing nature's eolian harp in a lullaby for the lately departed day, the rocky shore line, bordering that limpid gem of a lake where he could hear an occasional trout breaking water--taken in all it was a dream, as jack told himself more than a few times. "first call to supper--all that's hungry get goin' while things are hot! i ain't meanin' to wait more'n three shakes o' a lamb's tail 'fore i pitches in. hi! there, partner, shake a leg!" the bill of fare may not have been very extensive, but there was an abundance of substantial food and best of all ravenous appetites to be satiated. perk was as happy as a lark and a dozen times demanded of his comrade if he had ever partaken of anything that tasted better than the slice of ham with the fried eggs to give it the proper caper, after which the coffee came in for his flattery. "course i know right well it's awful f'r the cook to praise his own work, but i jest can't help sayin' it's a swell supper, taken in all. another piece o' fried ham, ol' pard, tho' sorry there ain't no more eggs at all--lucky what i laid by didn't get smashed in the runnin'--which goes to show what a good packer i am--might even get a job with that gang o' mule skinners an' their loads o' moonshine stuff." never had jack seen his chum more joyous as after he had filled up with the appetizing camp supper. he beamed on his mate and only for having laid in such a big supply of grub asserted he'd be tempted to try the fishing as there were surely trout in the lake from their incessant jumping along about sundown when insects skittered about on the surface and mealtime had come for the finny tribes. in the midst of his chattering perk suddenly stopped and appeared to be intently listening. "well, i guess now," he remarked, grinning, "i was away off my base when i says there ain't nary a wild animal inside o' twenty miles o' this spot 'cause listen to 'em yappin', will you, partner?" "wolves i reckon," observed jack who had also caught the distant sounds. "jest what they be," perk continued triumphantly, "an' sounds to me like they made some sort o' a killin' an' are all het up with the victory. there, died out like snuffin' a candle out, showin' they got started on the grub. queer what different tastes critters have. some like their venison raw while others aim to cook it to a turn over red coals an' chaw it while hot. but venison sure is _good_ any which way you cook it over a real camp-fire." jack saw him lick his lips with his tongue as though even the mention of that chief standby of a hunter's feast made his mouth water. perk certainly did think a heap of his eats, as he so often frankly admitted. they heard nothing further from the wolf pack but at least the circumstance had assured perk that the rocky mountain sides were not as lacking in big game as he had been convinced earlier in the evening. so too, no doubt he was telling himself that it might pay to keep his gun within reach when the time came for them to hit the hay as he usually termed the act of turning in. they remained ashore for another hour or so, just on account of the change. the rocks were anything but comfortable as a seat, but perk managed to find a quantity of moss near by which added to their ease when judiciously applied. finally jack proposed going aboard the ship. "me too, boss!" sang out perk, "'cause i'm sorter tired an' feel like gettin' rested up. things look okay to me an' mebbe we'll have a quiet night--if on'y them hungry wolves get filled up an' don't ketch wind o' our bein' in the neighborhood. hugh! if they know what's good for 'em they'll give this lakeshore a wide berth while me'n my ol' chattergun are on deck." xix perk gets a shock an hour later and both of them were sound asleep, having comfortable let-down cots in the sheltering cabin that were a wonderful improvement over the way they used to double-up in the cramped cockpit of the ship they handled before this fine amphibian was placed in their charge by uncle sam. the night moved on and for some hours nothing occurred to annoy them. perk had become addicted to waking about once so often and as a rule he used to sit up and yawn as he took a look around. it may have been an hour or so after midnight when, on thus arousing, he caught a sound that caused him to omit the customary yawn, though he certainly sat up with a jerk and appeared to be listening. almost mechanically too, his right hand groped for something alongside his cot and it was his gun he presently pulled up. the sounds he had heard once more broke out--savage, ominous sounds they were too, undoubtedly proceeding from one or more wild beasts aroused to a fighting spirit. "huh! bobcats, i'd say, if you asked me, neighbor, an' hoppin' mad in the bargain. must be a pair o' 'em an' they ain't mates either. guess now two ol' rivals must a met head-on along some trail an' each is a sassin' t' other, darin' him to knock a chip off'n his shoulder an' see what he gets. gosh amighty! but wouldn't i jest like to lamp that 'ere duel the wust kind, but i knows aheap better'n to set out an' spy on 'em. just as like as not they'd forget all their mad agin' each other an' set on me for keeps. thar they go agin, licketty-split, snarlin', screechin' and scrappin' for all that's out. i'm tellin' the wide world the hair's sure flyin' in big patches while _that_ caterwaulin' keeps grindin' out." it kept perk sitting there fully ten minutes before finally dying out nor did he ever know whether one or both quarreling creatures had been extinguished, like the famous cats of kilkenny, each of which thought "there was one cat too many." "some circus, b'lieve me," perk told himself, with many a chuckle, for he had been vastly amused and entertained by that aggregation of furious sounds, "but it's okay with me so long's they scrap 'mong themselves an' leave us alone. i ain't lost no kitty as i know of, an' there's some more sleep i c'n make use of if they put the brakes on their whoopin' things up." with that he snuggled down once more and forgot all his troubles for the balance of the night. if there were any further ancient feuds still to be settled among the old-time inhabitants of that section, perk was unaware of the slaughter for he did not open his eyes until the first peep of dawn announced the coming of another day. jack still slept, it would seem, for he lay there like a mummy while perk proceeded to crawl out and get into his clothes with the full intention of slipping ashore, reviving the fire and starting to prepare breakfast. apparently his enormous supper of the previous evening must have digested and that awful vacuum he detested so much was already calling for help. he chanced to have a sore toe that gave him a painful twitch every little while and not feeling disposed to tramp around collecting fuel until he had remedied this physical distress, he sat down to pull off his footgear and fasten a little wad of cotton between the offending member and its neighbor. once while thus busily engaged perk imagined he caught a slight thud, as of something striking a root or fallen branch. he raised his head to listen, with those ravenous timber wolves flashing into his mind but then everything seemed nice and quiet again so that believing he had only imagined he heard suspicious sounds he once more bent down to complete his little task. then, without hardly any warning, there suddenly burst forth the most diabolical sound perk had ever heard in all his life. something similar to the braying of army mules over in france, he thought. perk probably felt his blood run cold, for that frightful racket was not more than twenty feet distant. wildly he stared, expecting to see some savage beast, perhaps with the stripes of a real jungle tiger, come leaping from behind the adjacent rock heaps and make directly for him, unarmed as he was. regaining the use of his limbs perk turned tail and made for the friendly left wing of the ship, taking huge jumps and anticipating that some supple body was apt to land on his back despite his haste. jack was there in full sight and worse luck, he did not even seem to have thought to snatch up the handy gun when that frightful roar echoed and re-echoed up and down hill in the valley of the silver lake. "g--et th' gun, quick--tigers, lions, an' nobody knows what not--on the rampage to beat the band, too!" jack stared and then seemed to fairly double-up as though to him there might be something worth laughing at in the hurried retreat of his pal. "he's more scared than you can be, perk!" he managed to cry out. "see him making off, will you, taking steps that are nearly as long as your own. watch him shake those new horns of his, as if to tell you he'd be willing to fight it out only his head pieces are so new like, and soft!" "w-hy--what in tarnation thunder is that big monster, jack?" gasped the astonished perk, staring with all his might after the towering beast that was passing out of sight around a vast mound of tumbledown rocks. "only a bull moose, partner--he must have heard you make some sound and reckoned it was an old rival of his, which was what made him give that roar. i never ran across a moose up to now, but i know what they can do. if it had been in the fall of the year, when his horns, just rutting lately, were firm and hard, you'd have had him jumping you mighty quick." "wow! he _had_ me jumpin' even as it was," confessed honest perk, deigning now to break into a silly grin since the supposed danger was past and the coast clear. "he's some jim dandy i'd say an' mebbe i wouldn't like to knock a bull moose over. used to hear about 'em when i was a kid up in maine and over the line in canada too (but never met one o' the breed before). bet you that ol' boy c'n run a blue streak too, once he lets go. well, since there ain't any tigers at large nor yet a catamount lyin' in ambush, guess i orter go ashore again an' hurry up my fire. breakfast ready in ten minutes, 'member, jack ol' hoss." while working over his fire and starting breakfast perk must have been sketching in his mind the nerve racking encounter so lately in the spot-light, for once he stopped doing what he was engaged in, to look seriously up at the blue sky where a few floating white clouds had taken on a faint pink blush, showing that the rising sun was not far below the horizon though not scheduled to appear to any one in that deep valley for several hours yet--then he might have been heard holding communion with himself and saying: "i kinder guess moose steak wouldn't taste so bad but then what's the use o' cryin' over spilt milk? mister moose has skipped out an' then jack wouldn't let me shoot, even if the ol' critter hung around lookin' for trouble. didn't he say the close season was on with all game that you c'n eat and that the mounties might get me if i took chances and nailed that big boy? oh well! i'm all to the good and no tellin' what he might have done to me if we got mixed up in a sure enough scrap." breakfast was almost as enjoyable as supper had been--not just wholly so for no one is ever quite so hard pressed by hunger in the early morning as seems to be the case toward close of day when all cares are tossed aside. jack did not appear to be in any hurry to leave the scene of their night's bivouac for he puttered around, doing numerous small chores that, according to perk's mind, could have just as well been postponed to another time without the sky falling. "ain't she ready to take the air, boss?" he finally demanded when he could stand it no longer, whereupon jack looked up smilingly and nodded. "everything's as fine as silk, brother, and since it's getting along, perhaps we'd better be on our way." "huh! that's the line o' patter i'm longin' to hear from you, partner," perk broke out in positive relief. "i'm a bit leery 'bout puttin' in a second night alongside this lake. might have a twenty-foot anaconda drop down on us while we sat outside an' smoked. now don't tell me they ain't no sech animal hereabouts, 'cause i know that as well as you do but just the same i'm glad we're goin' to climb outen here pronto." xx the fur-trading station possibly perk may have been a little troubled in his mind lest they run up against difficulties when trying to climb out of that tiny valley walled with those titanic mountains massed all around. his faith in the ability of his comrade to surmount ordinary difficulties and aviation perplexities buoyed him up and he failed to register any outward signs of undue anxiety. his confidence was well placed for aided by the excellent working of the crate's slotted wings and his knowledge concerning their control, jack was enabled to start boring up toward the sky almost as soon as the amphibian quitted the placid bosom of the crystal lake. a few circles and they had risen so that it was possible to see beyond the peaks by which they were surrounded. "that's the boy--beautifully done, i'll tell the gapin' world--an' what a good feelin' it gives a flyer to know he's on the wing once more after bein' knocked down by a dead-stick swattin' him. glad now i snapped off them two pictur's jest when we was leavin' the lake under us." "same here partner," chimed in jack, "for i'll always have a kindly feeling for that little cup of water set in that hole among the mountains like it might be a precious diamond in a platinum ring." "huh! i'd like to said that same thing, buddy," perk told his mate, "on'y it ain't in my blood to spout poetry you see but a feller c'n _feel_ it in his heart, mebbe, even when he jest can't say it." "which is as true as anything can be," vowed jack who was well aware of the limitations of his chum and could appreciate his good points, even if in some ways perk seemed a bit dumb. they were soon on their course as laid out by the head pilot and making into the north at fair speed. perk amused himself for some little time in carrying out his accustomed duties, which were numerous and so essential they must not be neglected. later on jack, realizing that perk was no longer moving around with his customary bustle, managed to steal a glance in his direction to discover that the other was snuggled down and seemed to be gazing at something he held in his hand, as though wrestling with a weighty problem. jack immediately understood, for the object at which perk stared so earnestly happened to be the small photograph he had received from the youngster whom he, perk, had carried across that queer little bridge made of two ironing-boards when the tenement was burning in salt lake city. he would turn it over so as to read the name written in a female hand on the back--"adrian, at six years," and then quickly reverse the card as if he hoped to instinctively pronounce the last part of the lad's name that seemed to elude his memory with such disgusting pertinacity. but apparently even that idea failed to work, for jack heard no triumphant whoop break from his companion's lips as he felt certain would be the case should he hit what he was after. the old saying, all signs fail in dry weather, was applicable in perk's case, it seemed. still, such are the vagaries of the human memory that he was likely to suddenly utter the word he wanted just as he opened his eyes after a nap. it often comes about that way as many persons can testify. jack shook his head and grinned, muttering to himself meanwhile: "queer how poor old perk does get so twisted up with names and he's so dogged about it he never will give in till he gets what he's after. always makes me think of that ad. i used to see in the magazines about some kind of toilet soap. a baby in his little tub stretching out a hand to lay hold of a cake of soap and underneath the words: 'he'll never be happy till he gets it.' that's my pal perk to a fraction--wish i could give him the high sign but since i never heard the name it's beyond my ken. but anyway it gives him something to play with, like a baby's rattle and how he does hang on to it." so perk kept on staring goggle-eyed at that picture, just as if it mattered as much as three cents whether he ever again heard of the boy or his mother, both of whom jack had somehow made up his mind, were evidently engaged in a search for some missing party who was especially dear to them but whose identity was now, and probably always would be, a complete mystery to the pair who had befriended them on that night of the fire. "after all," perk finally said, and jack could easily catch every word, thanks to the useful earphone apparatus they had on, "we did have a fine time o' it--you made the neatest dead-stick landin' i ever seen put through--we had a glorious supper an' a nice night in camp as i might say--glimpsed a' ol' galliwampus o' a big bull-moose on the gallop--it'd jest be complete if on'y i had a decent head on me so's to grab that name--adrian--adrian what--shucks?" jack did not say a single word lest he start the other to worrying again. it might seem such a trifling matter to any outsider but to perk it meant that he was growing old--that his memory, never any too good, had taken to going back on him worse than ever. the further they worked into the north the more uninhabited did the wild region seem to become. earlier in their flight they were able to occasionally discover an isolated log-cabin marking the lonely home of some venturesome white trapper and when these isolated shelters were still occupied by their owners there would be a column of wood smoke rising above the adjacent timber that made things seem a bit homelike, but for the last hour perk had not picked up the slightest clue to human existence in all that vast wilderness, though he plied his glasses most industriously in hopes of breaking the spell. "must be drawing close to the fur-trading post, i'd reckon, eh partner?" jack suddenly demanded at which the other nodded vigorously in the affirmative and followed this up by saying emphatically: "just what we are ol' hoss. i've seen a number o' things to tell me it's close by here--f'r instance, take a peek at them three cones standin' out there in a triangle off to the west--many a time i've sat an' smoked an' watched the clouds coverin' the lowest peak while on a log in front o' old jimmy mcgregor's log cabin store. jest a trifle more to the east, partner, an' chances are we'll be settin' eyes on frazer's post inside ten minutes at the most." that was certainly cheery information for jack to hear from his companion who was familiar with much of that country from having ridden over the mountain trails when spending several years in the service of the northwest mounted police force. perk seemed to be more and more amazed by the fact of their striking the far distant point as though drawn by some magnet, for a minute later he broke loose again. "there, i 'member that little canyon where the trail runs through--got my first caribou right on that spot--a herd was passin' an' i came on the bunch as they turned a corner. what makes me sit up an' take notice is how we've come all the way up here, hundreds an' hundreds o' miles, straight as a die an' inside o' forty-eight hours, i guess i might call it, when in them days it'd taken me a month anyway to cover the same distance on hossback. they fetches the supplies to the post here by way o' the river an' then by carry. huh! we're livin' in a great age, strikes me, partner. now, get ready to take a look-in at the first fur-tradin' station you ever did see 'cause it's jest beyond that little rise with the timber hidin' the fort. hot ziggetty dog! i never did think i'd be up here in this country again." jack also felt a little thrill of expectancy as they sped onward for in another minute or so they should be passing directly over the place perk had pointed out with such assurance. the trip had thus far been as successful as any one could hope for and their success in finding the needle in a haystack, as perk had once called their mission, was to be considered a feather in the cap of the pilot. then all of a sudden he heard perk give utterance to a loud cry as of dismay, coupled with astonishment. "hey! what's all this mean? look at that outhouse smoulderin' like it's been burned down inside o' last night! an' that little bunch o' fellers standin' there like they meant to skedaddle at hearin' us comin' with sech a racket! jack, i tell you somethin's sure happened around these diggin's! been some sorter o' deviltry afoot an' ten to one that same crazy hawk's the guy that's broke loose! mebbe now we jest got here in time to break into the game." xxi old jimmy, the factor it hardly needed these vigorous words from the startled perk to tell jack something unusual was the matter at the trading post. just as his comrade had declared, some sort of minor building was smouldering, smoke ascending in lazy spirals and occasionally a tiny burst of flame telling where a fresh bit of unburned wood must have fallen to the heat still hanging over the ruins. then too, the actions of the parties standing in a clump near the general store and fur repository added to his belief for they did look very much disturbed as if almost tempted to make a break for the shelter of the nearby forest. that was easily understood, for up to the present time it must have been a rare event for an airplane to come circling over that remote trading post--indeed, perhaps never before had such a thrilling event occurred. "jack, you're meanin' to drop down, ain't you?" sang out the worried perk. "i reckon to," came the steady answer, "when you've shown me the open field you said lay close by--that was even enough for a fairly decent landing." "why, there it is right now, partner--over on the right, this side o' the tall timber yonder," and perk thrust out a hand so as to make his meaning quite clear. "i see it perk, boy, and must take your word for it we'll have a chance to make contact without a spill. we've got to find out what's been going on around here lately, that's about all there is to it." "i c'n jest wager it's some dirty work o' that timber wolf, hawk," asserted the other vigorously, "an' if he's so much as hurt a hair o' ol' jimmy mcgregor's gray head it's goin' to cost him dear, an' that's no lie either!" jack said nothing further, just paid strict attention to his business. he was scanning the rather contracted field so as to figure where he should drop down, with a bit of open space ahead for a short run after hitting the earth. he had made several circles around the place before coasting earthward as his severe training as a pilot had taught him to do ere making the last dip. in another half minute the wheels had struck and the amphibian was slowing up in its forward thrust. both of them hastily detached the 'phones from their heads for they could see that some of the men, mostly trappers, jack imagined from their rough dress, were commencing to push toward the spot where the visitor from the clouds lay almost motionless, having withstood such shaking-up as followed the rough landing. the first thing that jack noticed was the fact that there was an eager look on several of the leather-like faces of the advancing group. he rather imagined they had been cherishing a wild hope the airship might disgorge several figures in the well-known uniforms of the mounties and that their recent rough treatment at the hands of the outlaws would soon be avenged. "hi! what's been goin' on 'round the post here, boys?" shouted perk as the small group drew near. "hello! birdseye baker, glad to see you're still on deck--ain't forgot gabe perkiser, have you, oldtimer?" the tall, stoop-shouldered man with the long hair whom perk addressed stared hard and then came closer. "if it ain't perk hisself!" he exclaimed, to immediately add: "back on the old job agin, be ye--but why ain't ye in uniform--an' whar be the rest o' the mounties--we need 'em right smart i'm tellin' ye, boy!" "who's been handlin' you rough, brother?" asked perk sympathetically. "cap. hawk an' his gang. ain't been gone more'n three hours--stole all my whole season's ketch o' pelts an' robbed old jimmy o' his money an' a heap o' stores 'sides. i kinder feel like i'm meanin' to skip out o' this blasted kentry if so be they jest can't nab that wild critter, 'er else make him turn up his toes. what ails the mounties, i wanter know, when they slip up on a job like this? don't seem like the days when ye was workin' in the outfit, gabe perkiser." "hold out a little longer, birdseye, ol' hoss!" exclaimed perk jerking off goggles and helmet, "mebbe it'll all come out okay. they's things on the programme that're goin' to cut a big figger in this game. just you wait an' see 'fore you cuss the mounties black an' blue." then, as if noting the absence of old jimmy the factor, perk continued, looking anxiously around: "but where's jimmy right now, i want to know? 'taint like him to be stickin' in his coop yonder when strangers come to town!" "he's on his back, perk--got into ruction with them bushrangers an' they tore him up somethin' scandalous. nuthin' real dangerous, get me, but he sure needs the attention o' a doc. i'm told they's sech a man up to the fort name o' hamilton but we ain't no way o' gettin' word to him in a hurry." "that's okay, ol' hoss," said perk quickly, "my boss here, mister john jacob astorbilt is aimin' to strike fort laney, hopin' to get some big game shootin' thereabouts. we c'n fetch the sawbones back with us if so be he's still around." "good boy, perk," said the old fur-trapper enthusiastically, "but come in an' see the old man--he'll be right glad to meet up with ye again--often talked 'bout ye when i kim back from my trap line in the spring." perk looked as happy as a schoolboy carrying home _her_ books for the first time--showing that after all he was not quite so hard-boiled as he wished to appear and that a little flattery could bring the blushes to his well tanned weather-stained cheeks. "let's go, partner," he said motioning to jack who had been listening to all this talk with increasing interest, since it had more or less to do with the lawless actions of the desperado whom he had been dispatched to bring back to the states so as to be returned to leavenworth penitentiary, with considerably more time added to his original sentence. the moment they entered the post they could easily see that something like an eruption must have occurred only recently. everything was upset as though there had been a thorough search made for hidden treasure. piles of dried pelts lay scattered around, the richer prizes having evidently been carried off. the raiders had doubtless shown rare discrimination as though among their number were those who themselves had once been trappers and therefore knew all about the value of black fox pelts, sables and mink that bring such top-notch prices in the fur markets of st. louis and other busy places in the country. birdseye baker led them through all this mess straight over to the door communicating with the factor's private room. this apartment also looked as if an earthquake of first dimensions had struck it and over on a cot against the further log wall they could see a man with a gray beard holding himself up on his elbow, having evidently heard strange voices and being filled with curiosity as well as wonder as to what all the fresh row was about. "hello there, uncle jimmy!" sang out perk breezily as he pushed ahead with outstretched hand. "ain't quite forgot gabe perkiser, have you, ol' top? sorry to hear what's happened to you an' as me an' my boss, mister john jacob astorbilt here, mean to head for the fort right away, we aim to get thet medicine man back to look after you. it happens we got a cloud chasin' airship waitin' outside to carry us wherever we wanter go." the old scotch factor looked as pleased as a man suffering from recent severe injuries might be expected to under the circumstances. he allowed the newcomer to squeeze his hand and even took jack's who fancied the other from the first--the stern honesty of the man from bonny scotland was to be seen in his clear eye and undismayed look. "they treated me some scandalous, perk," the injured man was saying with a quirk, but little in the way of scotch brogue cropping up in his speech, "but ye ken i'm a tough old bird and have pulled out o' many a bad scrape in the past so it may be i'll weather this knockout, if only that doctor can gi'e me a fair start." "hamilton, they say his name is," ventured perk, musingly, "somehow i don't 'member the name, so like as not he must be a new one around here since i kicked out some years ago." "ay; that's the truth, laddie--he dropped in on us something like a year back, sayin' he was sick o' civilization and a' its cheats and wanted to live out his life where the primitive ways still held forth. i am o' the opinion the man must have met with some serious trouble--had his wife run awa' with a younger chap, more'n likely, as they sometimes do, ye ken. but for a' that he's a clever physician and he'll pull me out o' this slump if on'y he can be fetched before it's too late." xxii picking up clues "make your mind easy on that score, uncle jimmy," perk went on to say as he bent over the wounded man, "we'll get up to the river post and my ol' haunts in a rush, pullin' out inside the hour an' either fetch the doctor back with us in the ship or on hossback, all that dependin' on how things happen to be with colonel ascot, who i understand is still in charge o' the mounties." perk gave his mate a questioning glance as he said this, and was pleased to see jack nod in the affirmative, as though thus putting the seal of his approval to the plan as given by his assistant. "an' now, ol' friend," perk continued in a soothing fashion, for he knew the scotch nature of the other and could understand how the mcgregor must be inwardly fuming concerning the robbery that had taken place and the losses to the great fur company of which he was an old and efficient official, "'fore we pull outen here you must let my boss take a look at them cuts an' bruises. it happens he's a fair surgeon--amatoor one, i mean--an' could fix you up to carry on till the reg'lar doc gets here. how 'bout that, jack?" if either the factor or the ancient trapper noticed the rather odd familiarity existing between perk and his supposedly wealthy employer, it did not strike them as strange--away up in this jumping-off place, as far as civilization was concerned, men were more or less equals, being judged more from what their accomplishments might be than from their money and besides, they doubtless remembered that perk had always been a sort of free and easy independent fellow when with the mounties. "that's just about what we aim to do, perk," jack immediately told the other. "i don't claim to be much of a surgeon, but if there's anything i can do to stop the bleeding, or bind up the cuts, i'll be only too glad to lend a helping hand, mr. mcgregor." he was as good as his word for inside of five minutes jack had stripped off his coat, rolled up his shirt sleeves and commenced to examine the injuries suffered by the determined old factor when he dared take his life in his hands and try to defend the property of his employers. it turned out that there were some pretty bad cuts and it was a wonder no fatal blows had been given for there could be little doubt that the aggressors shot and stabbed in a most reckless fashion. but evidently the factor's luck held good and jack did not feel as though there was much danger of a fatal ending to the affair, providing no blood poisoning set in. he called for warm water and clean cotton, which, being provided, he started to cleanse the wounds and apply some healing salve. so confidently did he work that the quaint looking old trapper, birdseye, watching everything with wonder, might have been seen to nod his shaggy mane approvingly as though in his private opinion the young fellow was some surgeon indeed. as he thus worked jack entered into conversation with the factor, having two good reasons for doing so. he wished to distract the attention of his patient from himself and also to extract as much information as possible covering the recent raid. a description of the miscreants was given and especially of their savage leader known as the hawk because of his faculty for striking a swift blow in one place and being heard of in another in such a short time as to make people believe he could fly like the speedy bird of prey. "as far as i could say," old jimmy told him in answer to a question, "he's along about thirty years old, a shortish sort o' a man, quick as a flash in his movements and with eyes that bore in like a gimlet might. he's had his nose broken at some time or other, which gives him a bit o' a look like an eagle or a hawk. it may be he got his present name from that. but he's a devil, i'm thinking and ready to do anything, law or no law when he smells rich booty in the game." jack gave perk a knowing look accompanied by a wink for that description, brief though it might be, coincided with what had been in the secret information sent by his chief at washington--the broken nose stamped it as a positive thing that the man he wanted was close at hand, engaged in his same old line of business, that of a hold-up man, robber of banks and payroll bandit with a record for masterly exploits second to none. so too with regard to the sudden surprise and attack--it seemed as though the marauders must have had accurate information as to when the trading post would prove to be a rich prize and also weakly defended. "they had their plans a' set, i am fain to believe," the factor told him as though he had somehow figured this out during the time he lay there on his cot, "for ye ken it is only a few days now when the customary spring clean-up o' the posts come to pass so they would know we had rich pickings on hand. they lookit over the whole o' the bales an' picked out a' the high-priced pelts like they might be connoiseurs in that line, for i recognised two former trappers in the gang--squatty bings an' welchy, as tough an' hard drinkin' lads as ever lived." "i've been told they left here just about three hours back--is that correct, mr. mcgregor?" asked jack, wishing to make certain, for a great deal might depend on the question of elapsed time. "i am no so sure, for i have not looked at my watch since being carried in the house," the factor informed him, "but birdseye here would know, for he and the others were being herded in a bunch and kept under several guns. that was after i had been so badly mauled and lay helpless on the ground outside. they were in no great hurry--took their time, feasted on a' the food they could stow away--did a lot more up in bundles and wi' the choice pelts as well as a stock o' ammunition, finally pulled out, leaving the few men next to helpless since their guns had been carried awa'." taken in all, with a little imagination thrown in for good measure, jack could picture the stirring happening as the outlaws, having accomplished all they planned to do, pulled up stakes and with jeering shouts as well as waving their hats defiantly, left the scene of their daring foray. "they certainly had their inning," he observed as he finished his fairly decent surgical work and rose to his feet, "but i've an idea they're due for a little surprise before long when the tables may be turned. i came up here to hunt big game and if it happens to run on two legs, why, what's the odds? a lot depends on how the colonel of the mounties happens to figure when he learns what's been going on around here--how these scoundrels are snapping their fingers and saying to the devil with the mounties, whose glory has departed. i'm wondering just how it comes the hawk and his crowd have been able to stave off arrest this long and if the reputation of your famous northwest police force has indeed been eclipsed." "don't you b'lieve that for a second, jack!" cried the aroused perk, jealous concerning the fame of the organization of which he used to be a proud member, "chances are they've been after this bunch right along an' even now may be settin' plans to net the hull gang--how 'bout that, uncle jimmy?" "there have been a number of fierce fights within the past year between colonel ascot's troopers and the hawk's gang--indeed, two of the mounties have lost the number of their mess and three others had to be sent to the hospital at winnipeg, seriously wounded in the encounters. this hawk is said to be the toughest nut ever doing business in all this great region. he seems to bear a charmed life and bullets fail to bring him down. the chances are, when you reach the post, it will be to find that some sort of expedition is off on a seemingly warm trail for whenever the hawk plans to make one of his brilliant raids he always fixes things so that the troopers will at the same hour be many miles away, heading for some threatened post and out of communication." jack seemed very well satisfied with what he had gleaned--having been dispatched these many hundreds of miles just to apprehend this bandit, it pleased him to know what a thorn in the flesh leonard culpepper was proving to be in the lives of the guardians of the northwest territory. perk too, was grinning as if his thoughts might be rather pleasant. "huh! if that skunk could be picked up an' carried back to the states where he belongs," he went on to say with a chuckle, "i kinder guess colonel ascot he'd sleep some sounder. wall, let's hope it'll come to pass afore many more days slip by." apparently neither old jimmy nor yet the ancient skin-gatherer birdseye noticed how perk, a new-comer, seemed to know something they had never before heard, about the hawk having drifted up from across the border but then in all the excitement taking place within the last few hours such a slip could pass unnoticed. xxiii the northwest mounted police post it was now high time they were once more afloat. jack was well content to be on the wing since apparently nothing more was to be picked up at the devastated trading post. he and perk should be heading for the station of the mounties, so as to inform their commander with regard to what had happened at frazer's, further south. accordingly, after telling the old factor not to worry as they meant to start the mounties on the way to the scene of the outrage with the least possible delay, both he and perk pressed the hand of the wounded man and passed outside, followed by the admiring birdseye who would never cease from sounding the praises of jack's surgical work. the next thing to concern the pals was in line with their expected hop-off. would it be possible to make the jump from such a wretched field, with its many bumpy spots calculated to cause the moving craft to wobble fiercely? together they walked over the anticipated course, examining the nature of the ground, to toss aside, when possible, such rocks as threatened to jar them seriously. when finally they had thus surveyed the entire stretch, jack pronounced the decision in which his comrade concurred--that although they would assume some risks, still in the course of their experiences in the past both of them had successfully climbed out of even worse traps than the one they were now up against. so they went aboard, watched by every living creature about the post saving old jimmy himself. as usual jack checked his dials and the motor with a skill that only comes from long experience added to that peculiar air-minded wizardry possessed by just a few pilots, like lindbergh. "okay boss?" inquired perk, picking up the ear-phones as if ready to adjust them to his head because it might be necessary for them to exchange remarks soon after they started, and according to perk's mind it was very essential they should be prepared. "here we go!" came the answer, upon which the motor took hold and the big ship started forward, followed by the cheers of birdseye and his fellows although these grew fainter as the amphibian went bumping along, increasing its pace as jack saw fit to pull back the stick against his breast, until just as they finally lost contact with the ground, the racket of motor and propeller smothered all other sounds completely. they were off to a safe start and no damage done. perk settled down in his seat ready to take up his accustomed duties although he felt convinced everything was in apple-pie condition aboard the boat. their course was a point off due north, perk having coached his mate with regard to that important matter. besides, from their lofty lookout point it would soon be easy enough to discern the post known as fort laney for it lay on one of the small rivers that emptied into the mackenzie, itself starting in great slave lake. perk could not but remark upon the changes that were gradually taking place in the country the further north they went. this struck him as wonderful, for although he had spent several years in this region, never before had he been privileged to take such a sweeping survey of the landscape as on the present occasion for heretofore he had been upon the ground where rocky mountains and all manner of huge obstacles obstructed the view and restricted the vision. he could figure out just about in what quarter the peace river lay, a place he had good occasion to remember since one of the most stirring adventures connected with his service in the mounties had taken place on its banks. so too, was he able to look in the direction whence must lie the town of simpson, on the great mackenzie, some hundred miles or more distant as the crow flies. there was also great bear lake, another body of water he had looked upon, and which must stir up other vivid memories for events in which he had taken a leading part, connected with the arrest of a notorious halfbreed, terrorizing the region roundabout, had brought him rather close to a fade-out since he met with serious wounds in the resulting scrimmage before he and his pal were able to overcome the desperado. in this way perk was indulging in recollections of past events that seemed very agreeable, to judge from the beaming smile he wore as he kept using the binoculars in order to pick out familiar scenes as they loomed upon his vision from time to time. then all at once perk showed positive signs of excitement. "hi! there partner, let me take the controls for a spell! want you to have the glasses and pick up that caribou jumpin' off away yonder jest on t'other side o' them birches that stand out so white'n clear." jack lost no time in doing as he was bidden for thus far it had never been his good fortune to glimpse a real caribou outside of a zoo and the thought of watching one on its native heath and feeding ground gave him quite a little thrill. "get him yet?" demanded perk anxiously, seeing that jack was moving the binoculars along as though their swift passage was carrying them past the patch of birch trees. "sure do, buddy," admitted the other, to add: "looks like he might be close enough to eat out of my hand--keepin' an eye on this crate all right, as if he didn't just like our looks. there, he sprang off like an express train on the transcontinental railroad and i've lost him in the thick bush. i'd like to knock over one of his breed while we're up here but hardly think i'd be justified in staying around a single day longer than is absolutely necessary." it turned out, however, jack did get an opportunity to do that very thing, but of which event more anon. he again took over the stick, being desirous of handling the ship when later on they reached the river post and started to drop down on the stream for a stop-over, long or short, neither of them knew just then. ten minutes later perk made his announcement. "i c'n make out the barracks as plain as anything, with the river just beyond. we'll be there in a jiffy, partner! how it all comes back to me, the interestin' life i led up here with the boys--i'll sure miss that davis lad who, i learned, was one o' the pair got killed in the fight with that bloody-minded hawk. claude davis had an old mother livin' in toronto, an' many a time he used to tell me things 'bout his fambly that made me think i knowed the hull passel o' 'em. poor old lady, it must a near killed her when she heard how her lad laid down his life for his country. i always did claim these splended mounties up here, forever ready to take great risks to protect the scattered settlers, are soldiers jest as much as those o' us who served in the big scrap across the atlantic. but look ahead, jack, an' you c'n see the post now with the naked eye. yeah, and as sure as you live there's a mounty steppin' up from the boats, carryin' what looks to me like a string o' fish! gee whiz! how many times did i furnish the fish course for lots o' dinner messes. seems like 'twas on'y yesterday, or the day 'fore, since i put my teeth in a cold-water fish from that river which empties into the polar sea." presently they were circling the post, running out over the river which jack was eyeing closely, as if to make certain it offered plenty of excellent opportunities toward making a landing. at least he had been assured there was sufficient water at almost any point to answer their purpose, the stream being high at this particular season of the year when so much snow had been melting all through the watershed which the river drained. "see," cried the alert perk, "sev'ral more o' the crowd have rushed out o' the barracks, knowin' from the shouts that chap set up somethin' out o' the ordinary was on the bills. but jest the same i kinder guess a bunch o' the boys must be away right now. what did we hear 'bout that cunnin' snake, the hawk gen'rally outsmartin' the mounties by makin' a sham attack on some place so's to send a posse whoopin' thataways while he proceeded to play his own game unmolested fifty miles away, an' never a uniform in sight?" "going down--lower floor--hold your breath, perk!" cried the pilot as he shut off the engine and, thrusting the nose of his craft sharply downward, proceeded to start a swift dive toward the river a thousand feet below. perk could not restrain his enthusiasm, but standing half erect waved his hat excitedly, also letting loose a few frightfully loud yells that must have been eye-openers to the several uniformed mounties standing close to the river's edge, watching in sheer amazement the swoop of the descending aerial cabin plane. xxiv ready to start a splash, a short run upstream and the amphibian was riding the little waves like a duck. then as jack once more turned on his power they taxied in close to the bank where a wing would serve as a gang-plank to get them ashore. "hello! ol' hoss red lowden!" bawled perk, in a glow of excitement. one of the mounties, with the marks of a sergeant on his sleeve, exhibited great excitement at hearing himself thus addressed so familiarly by a party who, up to that moment, he had not recognized owing chiefly to the aviator's goggles and helmet, which were now hastily removed as perk jumped ashore. "gabe perkiser!" the sergeant gasped, apparently staggered at learning the identity of one of the flyers. they met and shook hands with enthusiasm, for in those days of old they had been boon companions. perk put a finger on his lips. "go slow 'bout callin' me by that name, brother," he told the other, half under his breath. "jest now i'm sailin' under false colors, as you might say. i'm in uncle sam's secret service, an' known as gabe smith, a maine woods guide in the employ o' a rich gent, a real sport an' big game hunter--let me introduce him to you red--mister john jacob astorbilt," and with the last word he gave the wearer of the uniform a wicked wink that spoke volumes to red, who nodded and shook hands with jack. he could give a pretty clever guess as to who and what this determined looking young fellow must be and the story could keep until a more convenient season. "glad to meet you, mr. astorbilt," he went on to say aloud for the benefit of the two other mounties hovering close by with the design of being made acquainted with the newcomers. they were both wise and seasoned members of the force, although perk was meeting them for the first time and thus judged they had been transferred from another post during his absence. "i hope colonel ascot is well," remarked jack softly as he stood there close beside red lowden, "i am anxious to meet him, for i have a strong suspicion he will be deeply interested in certain documents i am bearing with me, both from ottawa in your dominion here and also from my big boss at washington, d. c." the other, who was a sturdy specimen of canadian manhood, with the eye of a hawk, nodded his head and looked wise as he hastened to say: "wait till i introduce you to these members of our patrol and then i'll lead you to the colonel, who is doing a bit of official correspondence inside his office close by." this was soon accomplished and as the sportsman in search of fresh thrills jack met the couple of mounties. leaving perk chatting with them he followed the sergeant into the long, low log barracks where in a cubbyhole at the end they found a tall, severe looking man, dressed in the garb of an officer, seated at a desk and busily engaged in writing. he must have heard all the commotion outside connected with the arrival of the cloud-chaser, but being deeply interested in what he was writing and too much given to decorum to display any vulgar curiosity, he had remained there. but after all he turned out to be very much a gentleman as well as a fine disciplinarian, as jack speedily learned for after he had explained just who he was and what the nature of his long flight into the wilderness contemplated, he found colonel ascot vastly interested and sympathetic. red lowden had discreetly withdrawn, saluting as he went so jack and the commandant of the frontier post were alone in the office. "i wish to assure you, young man," observed the colonel again cordially squeezing jack's hand, "you are bringing me the finest possible news. this knave has been playing the very devil around the whole sector and so far has had us guessing. the hardest nut we've had to crack in the entire term of my service in the corps. if by any great luck we can combine our forces and accomplish his capture, i shall feel myself in your debt beyond measure." jack was gratified at hearing these frank and hearty words. "i have a companion with me, colonel," he further observed, "a reliable chap in the bargain and a clever aviator. he once had the honor to serve under you up here--gabe perkiser." he saw a pleased expression flit across the grim face of the commandant and judged that perk must have been something of a favorite with the colonel. "glad to hear that, sir," the latter told his visitor, nodding his head in approval. "perk was a credit to the uniform all the time he was with us in our job of rounding up disturbers of the peace and guarding honest men against such rascals and blackguards as continually drift up to this country. they seem to think its loneliness will guarantee them immunity from the long arm of the law they have flaunted. i'll be pleased to see him again--and in the service you represent so creditably, as i can well imagine." "we look for a bit of assistance from your force, colonel," continued jack, "and you will find your authority for giving us a helping hand in these documents from your head office," with which he handed the other a small packet of official looking papers. "i can take everything you say for granted, mr.--er astorbilt but am sorry you have dropped in on us at a most unfortunate time, since the majority of my men are away--there came a sudden call for assistance at a little settlement of newcomers some fifty miles distant--it was believed a raid was contemplated by this desperado, the hawk. the letter was signed by a man whom i happened to know stood in the light of a leader in that community, and although i may have had my secret misgivings i felt compelled to start a squad off late last evening. they will hardly get back here under the best of conditions for another forty-eight hours; and even at that their mounts will be far from fresh for another wild dash." jack had even figured on something like this coming to pass, and in his mind laid out a plan of campaign. "we have come direct from the frazer trading-post, colonel," he hastened to explain; "it was taken by trickery last night, the old factor seriously wounded, and the post robbed of everything of value, including precious pelts, food, ammunition, and all else." colonel ascot looked greatly annoyed. "then my fears were justified," he went on to say, with a grimace, and a shrug of his shoulders; "never has that man's equal been known in all the years i've been up against clever crooks. it was a false appeal for help, intended to employ most of my men, and give these desperate looters plenty of time to get away with their plunder. under the unfortunate circumstances what can i do to further your plans, sir? anything in my power you may command--i have but three of my force at the post, being short-handed just at present, as several are on leave of absence for special reasons." "if you could spare me sergeant lowden, sir, whom my comrade has recommended highly as one with a thorough knowledge of the whole country for fifty miles around, and allow me to carry the doctor back to frazer's to take charge of poor old jimmy, i could, i believe, make good progress; especially if you sent the balance of your detachment after us as an emergency force, in case we find the sledding a bit too rough." colonel ascot looked relieved, as though a heavy load had been taken from his chest. "only too gladly will i accede to that request," he told his guest. "i am expecting dr. hamilton at any moment now, when you can meet him, and ask him to ride back with you to the trading post. he is a gentleman, and a very gifted surgeon--in the year and more that he's been in this neighborhood i have known him to perform almost unbelievable operations with the most remarkable success. there is some mystery about the man, which is none of our business--i am simply telling you in order that you may not unintentially permit yourself--or perk, whose failings along the line of curiosity i know full well--to display any sign of butting in. in these lonely regions, my dear sir, just as in the gold fields, a man's past is his business only, and other people are content that it should remain a dead secret; but you can rest assured he is straight goods, and moreover a polished gentleman, as well as a wonderful physician." "i can readily understand what you mean, colonel," jack warmly assured him, "and once i have warned perk neither of us ever display the slightest curiosity about his hidden past--as you say, it concerns him alone; we'll just take him for what he is, and be glad to know him." they talked further, as the colonel glanced at his papers and laid them in a pigeonhole of his desk; and jack learned a number of important things connected with the man whom he planned to take back with him to the states, having the necessary documents to allow of this being done via the airship route. then the officer asked him to step outside, for he believed he had heard the voice of dr. hamilton, who it appeared, was coming once a day to treat a badly lacerated leg of one of the privates, who had been thrown from his horse amidst a _cache_ of unusually jagged rocks, with ill results. jack liked the doctor from the start, although he could plainly see that something like grief--hardly remorse--must have been eating at the other's heart for many a moon, his manner was so suppressed, so sad. of course the doctor hastened to assure him he would be only too glad to take the long gallop to the trading post, and do what was necessary for old jimmy, whom he knew very well, and esteemed highly. "i am not much of a horseman, i'm afraid," he told jack, whom he knew simply as a well-to-do young gentleman, with a great love for outdoors sports, and big game hunting chief of all; "but the colonel has an animal i've used before, and doubtless romeo will carry me safely to the post, since the trail is fairly easy; but the distance is more than he could negotiate at one try, i'm thinking." "that can be easily arranged," jack explained; "we might be able to get halfway to our destination by the time darkness sets in, when we could make camp, spend the night beside the trail, and get an early morning start. and thank you very much, doctor, for your kindness in going, i did all i could for a temporary dressing; but it was only the work of an amateur, and jimmy really needs further attention." "which i shall be only too pleased to give, since i have the utmost regard for the old factor," which remark satisfied jack that everything was coming along nicely. xxv an overnight bivouac immediately the station took on an air of great commotion. sergeant red lowden had been given secret instructions to accompany the two air voyagers, and was to go heavily armed, as for a battle. he was also told to place his services entirely at the disposal of the young fellow, as to whose real identity he had been "put wise" by perk, while jack and the commander had their little chat. the horses were brought out from the log stable, supplies gathered and packed, and everything done that was needful when a force was starting off for "business at the old stand." of course perk had met dr. hamilton, and been introduced under his fictitious cognomen of "smith." he seemed a bit awed in the presence of the other, and kept watching him out of the tail of his eye--indeed, from that time on perk showed signs of being deeply interested in the strange man, for he would steal a glance in his direction, shake his head as if "all balled up," to quote his own words as spoken later on; and then go into one of his rare silent spells as if cudgeling those slow moving wits of his. jack had of course taken occasion to tell perk what the colonel had passed along concerning the doctor; and being duly impressed with the need of caution had solemnly promised never to evince the slightest curiosity in connection with the unknown past history. "queer, how i seem to keep thinkin' i've met up with him somewhere or other," he managed at one time to mention to his chum, just before they got word from red lowden that everything was ready for the start; "but shucks! that same could hardly be possible, since he on'y bobbed up hereabouts sixteen moons back, red tells me; and i'd been out o' this country a few moons 'fore that. kinder guess i must be pokin' in the wrong prairie-dog hole, an' it's jest a case o' mistaken identity, as some calls it when you're follerin' the false trail. let it go at that, partner; an' here comes red to tell us we gotter to jump-off." jack had made all arrangements for his ship to be taken care of during his absence; whether it was for three days, a week, or even much longer the commandant assured him nothing should happen to endanger the amphibian; which would lie there tied up alongside the river bank, with some one keeping a jealous eye on the same day and night. so they shook hands with colonel ascot, who wished them all success in the undertaking they had planned out. "please god you may live to come back here later on, my friends," he said, with a warmth perk had never seen him exhibit before; "and that success will attend you in this undertaking. depend upon it the posse will follow after you as soon as it is practicable; and red there will show you how we leave a clue along the road as we go, for those coming in the rear to follow--that will be after you quit frazer's, and start in on the real tough part of the trip." which assurance afforded jack more or less satisfaction, for he somehow had an idea they might find the bunch of desperadoes a bit too tough to be successfully handled by such a small force; and be compelled to fall back until joined by the re-inforcements. they mounted, and were off at a gallop, sometimes times in single file, and again doubling up when the trail widened in places. red took the advance, since he was so thoroughly acquainted with every rod of the trail that led to the fur-trading post. then followed jack, with perk at his heels, and the doctor bringing up the rear. whenever they struck a section where the trail broadened out perk never lost an opportunity to ride alongside his chum; and of course always had a few of his interminable questions to ask; just as though to him jack represented an encyclopedia that could supply all his numerous wants, if only properly "tapped"--perk being from maine, must have many times made maple sugar in the bush; and tapping trees for the sap evidently had brought him to ply the same methods when in need of information. perk had of course taken his faithful hand machine gun, being under the impression that it would come in handy when the time for action arrived. so, too, had jack fastened his fine repeating sporting rifle to his saddle--it was just such a handsome weapon as he had always longed to own for hunting purposes, and hence he took advantage of his assumed personality to make the purchase--especially since generous uncle sam would stand back of the extravagance, since one could hardly expect to pose successfully in the guise of an ambitious big game hunter unless he possessed such a necessary winchester. after all the packages containing "grub" had been affixed to the saddles of the party, perk had come climbing out of the cabin of the ship carrying what appeared to be a mysterious black leather hand-grip--just what it contained he did not attempt to explain even to his old-time pal red. as jack however glimpsed the strange object he seemed to smile comprehendingly, as if he might commend his comrade for going prepared for great emergencies--of this matter more may be said later on, when events begin to thicken, and the air becomes saturated with exciting happenings. although making good time red was too old a campaigner to force things, especially at such an early stage of the journey. to be sure they stood to reach frazer's some hours after daylight at the earliest, and the raiders would have a long start of them; but as red had confided to jack, he was in possession of more recent knowledge covering the suspected secret lair of the looters; and besides, was he not the acknowledged peer of any indian or halfbreed in all the northwest country when it came to following a trail? jack was well satisfied with his chances for running the wily hawk to his hidden den; what came to pass after that had been accomplished must depend on how cleverly they could carry on, so as to catch the enemy napping, and pounce upon him unawares. while believing fully in his maxim of being prepared, jack was not the one to give himself useless worry, leaving all that for the time when he must bring his reserve powers into play. the afternoon fell away, with the sun dropping lower down the western sky. in less than another hour they would find twilight encompassing them, and must therefore pick out some likely camping spot, where fresh water would be handy, and plenty of desirable fuel nearby to keep their fire during the coming night. later on red began to keep his eye "peeled" for a site that possessed, in addition to rising ground, all these other requirements. he did not mean to let such a spot pass him by, even though the hour was still early, lest another could not be reached, and they must find themselves deprived of certain comforts--red, you see, was a bit like perk in that respect--he had great respect for his stomach, and would make considerable other sacrifices in order that a proper cooking fire could be utilized, and a sufficiency of food prepared to fill the expected vacuum. just a short time before the glowing ball of fire in the west sank behind the upward thrust of the mountain peaks, red gave a cry, and held up his hand as a signal that the afternoon gallop was at an end. a tempting little brooklet ran gurgling along its way alongside the trail, and a finer campsite it would have been hard to find. the timber was fairly thick, with a small open glade close by. the trees gave considerable protection for travelers without a tent, or other shelter; but then red and perk knew how to throw up a rude shack from material that was conveniently handy, in case rain threatened, which was not likely just then, these pioneers of the wide spaces agreed on this special occasion. dr. hamilton for one was glad the ride had come to an end; he did not pretend to be much of a horseman, and the constant contact with a hard saddle proved anything but pleasant or agreeable to him, though never a single word of complaint had escaped his lips. perk set about helping red gather a pile of wood, after quenching his thirst at the brook, the water being as cool as they could wish. they had been wise enough to fetch blankets for the crowd, and with a fire going all night long, no one could reasonably complain. jack and the doctor sat there chatting on subjects that seemed to engage them both, while watching with interest as the two others started getting supper. taken altogether it was quite a cheery picture, as jack could not help remarking; to find that his companion quite agreed with him; from which jack decided that after all the physician could not be naturally diffident to the charm of camping out, although admitting that he was hardly more than a novice along those lines. perk certainly acted as if vastly pleased with the opportunity to get up another open air meal--how he did detest those periods of partaking of what he sneeringly called "flying fare" such as became necessary so often while he and jack were on the wing, and putting the miles behind them when on business bent--if he had his way about things they would have landed at each and every day's end, and had their meals like civilized human beings instead of "sky hoboes." it was really a tempting supper that the pair of outdoor men managed to serve. they ranged along a convenient log, rolled into position by the culinary artists, always with an eye out for comfort; and here jack and dr. hamilton were given heaping pannikins of solid food, that tasted "pretty fine"; nor was the accompanying coffee anything to be scorned, for perk certainly knew just how to brew it to bring out all its hidden aroma, and tempt every one to come back for a second cup. they sat there before a blazing fire and talked of many things; yet studiously avoiding any and all reference to the one subject uppermost in the minds of at least three of the number--the chances of success they might meet in endeavoring to track the reckless lawbreaker, known as the hawk, to his lair, and either taking him prisoner, or, if forced to extreme measures, effectually winding up his audacious exploits by putting him under the sod. jack soon realized that his first estimation of dr. hamilton was absolutely correct; for the other entered into the conversation as though pleased to meet up with one who was so well up in matters of the day as jack proved to be. they were all more or less fatigued by the hard three hours' gallop along the twisting trail, over mountain slopes, and through valleys that lay between; so it was not long before first the doctor made up his blanket bed and crawled within; then jack a little later followed suit; and finally, after fixing the campfire so it would continue to burn for some hours, perk and red also "kicked off," as the former expressed it. after that silence deep and profound fell upon the scene, where nearby the horses securely hobbled cropped spears of grass such as they could reach; and in the end also settled down for a complete rest. xxvi the wolf pack jack, chancing to awaken several hours afterwards sat up to rearrange his blanket. the fire was burning fairly well, so that he could easily see objects within a certain range. a slight movement drew his attention toward the spot where dr. hamilton had rolled himself up in the blanket assigned to his use; and jack could see him sitting there, with his head bowed down as though, unable to sleep, he was indulging in sombre thoughts. somehow jack had been drawn toward the strange man, whom he felt confident must have some deep reason for coming to this outpost of civilization, and burying both himself and his rare talents under an assumed identity. "he's certainly got something gnawing at his heart, by the way he acts," jack told himself, as he snuggled down again within the folds of his covers. "and somehow i just can't seem to believe he's a bad man--his face, so sad, and yet sympathetic, belies that. still, the secret is his own, and none of my business." so he put it out of his mind, and was soon fast asleep once more. when next he awoke it must have been several hours later, as he could tell by glancing up at the star-studded heavens; for jack had studied the planetary system, and could tell how the night was passing fairly well by the time of the setting of the various celestial orbs. the fire was burning brightly, showing that either perk or red must have been keeping tabs on its care, having recently replenished the fuel supply. "pretty soft, i'd call it," chuckled jack, again dropping back to catch a "few more winks" of sleep before the coming of dawn; "but say, what's the use of having a chum who calls himself an old woods guide along, to look after you, if he doesn't give you all the service he's supposed to supply for his wages? we'll have many a good laugh over this delightful arrangement in other days and nights." three of the horses were lying down, the fourth trying to find a few more stray wisps of green stuff by reaching out to the extent of his tethering rope. all seemed well with the world, and jack judged it the part of wisdom to fight off dull cares until the time really arrived for action. then for the third time he opened his eyes and began to stretch his limbs, by that time feeling a bit cramped from his lying in a certain position so long. "must be getting daylight," he told himself, noting how he could see objects at some little distance beyond the smouldering campfire; but as it was not the proper caper for a supposed young millionaire sportsman to be the first on stirring in camp, jack concluded to just lie there and do a little calculating, having in mind the stirring drama they were likely to run into ere another day had come to an end. "huh! now, what in thunder does all that distant racket mean?" of course that was perk muttering to himself, and turning his head jack could see the other rising to a sitting position, with his head set on one side, as though he were straining his hearing. this caused jack to suddenly realize for the first time that it was not only the gurgling of the nearby running brook he had been hearing--somewhere within half a mile other sounds were rising, and even gradually drawing closer right along--yapping, for all the world like dogs chasing a rabbit, or a sly fox caught out with dawn coloring the sky. jack hastened to sit up. "yes, what can it be, do you think, perk?" he asked, quietly. "awake are you, ol' hoss?" the other went on to say though without turning his head. "sounds like wolves, or i'd say kiotes only i happen to know they ain't any sech animals 'way up here--leastways i never did run across sech all the time i rode 'round this section o' country." "a pack of timber wolves, you mean, buddy--the big, gray chaps that can pull down a deer as easy as a mountain lion would do the job?" "them's the kind like enough, jack," affirmed the other. "the chase is on then, it seems, perk; what d'ye reckon they're after?" "some sorter game they're meanin' to make a breakfast off'n--mebbe a cow moose, or else it might be a caribou, partner," perk went on to say, as if mildly interested. "huh! wouldn't mind havin' a juicy caribou steak myself for breakfast, on'y it'd be breakin' the game laws to shoot sech a critter out o' season. say, they must be headin' this way, jack, ol' pard!" "either that, or else there's a change of wind," agreed the other; "for the racket grows louder right along." perk reached out and laid his hand on the ever faithful machine-gun, which it seemed he had carefully placed alongside on settling down for the night. "i guess now i'll get up, an' toddle out by that openin' in the timber," jack heard him saying; "mebbe we might have the good luck to look-in on the gay scrap, if the beggars bring their quarry to bay close by here. anyhow it's plumb mornin', an' plenty to do." jack could not have told had he been asked why he should copy perk's example, possessing himself of the winchester repeater, and even following his comrade in the direction of the open glade, toward which the suggestive sounds appeared to be heading. there, too, was red lowden starting to "climb out" of his swathing blanket, apparently recognizing the fact that there might be something interesting on the carpet worth witnessing. all this movement must have aroused the doctor, for jack noticed a movement in his quarter, as though the exodus from the camp were about to be made unanimous. jack and perk dropped down on the edge of the opening. "that's in our favor," the latter was whispering--"the wind, what little there happens to be ablowin' is comin' right in our face, so the pesky beasts ain't agoin' to scent us right away. i kinder guess they's so crazy worked up over gitin' a breakfast they ain't so cunnin' as usual. wow! they're sure closin' in on the dick, that's flat--i c'n notice a change in the yelpin' that tells the story. steady now, ol' hoss, for here they come aswoopin'!" jack crouched low, with staring eyes--there was something that bordered on the thrilling about this dramatic panorama of the wilderness which a freak of good fortune was bringing under their observation--he even felt his heart beating as fast as a throbbing rivetting machine, such as he remembered once hearing at work on a skyscraper in the building in new york city--in fact, jack rather fancied this was as close an approach to the real "buck ague" as he had ever experienced, for while "some hunter" he did not claim to be a veteran in the chase. suddenly some large object broke out from the scrub on the other side of the open glade--it was a bull caribou, all right, and extremely winded, the chase having evidently been a long and thrilling one. gone was much of the spring to its gait, usually as swift as the wind--the pertinacity of its four-footed pursuers had completely worn the caribou out, and all that was left was for him to turn on the pack, and battle until they dragged him down by the weight of numbers, backed by ferocious hunger. there in the centre the gallant old fellow whirled around and stood at bay, just as jack had seen in a celebrated engraving. one sweep of his half-developed antlers and a daring wolf was flung ruthlessly aside, to come back limping, but as eager as ever. it was a spectacle jack would not have missed for anything; and yet all his sympathies were for the poor stag, so sorely beset by those ravenous foes. again and again did he strike out and scatter his enemies; but his condition this early in the season was not as hardened as would have been the case along toward late in the fall months, so that his blows failed to cripple those he sent flying right and left. perk was on one knee, and with his machine-gun lifted halfway to his shoulder, as though the inclination to mix in the scrimmage had begun to grip him too powerfully to be long resisted. the crisis came with lightning-like rapidity, and it turned out just about as jack had anticipated would be the case. one of the half-dozen wolves made a bold leap just when the caribou, having sent another flying, was caught off his guard. he landed on the stag's quarter, and fastened his teeth in his flank. that served to disconcert the doomed animal, so that a second of his persecutors was enabled to fasten on his neck, and weight him down. that hastened the inevitable end to the woods tragedy. there was no longer heard the yelps of the triumphant wolves--only a terrible snapping sound, and a mad scrambling, as the gallant caribou stag kept up the unequal fight, evidently determined to resist "to the last ditch." perk had reached the end of his rope; he could no longer resist the temptation to throw his glove into the arena, and take up the cause of the weaker one of the contenders. jack heard the sudden crash of the machine-gun close to his ear. one of the maddened wolves fell at the report, to get up no more. a second bit the dust almost immediately afterwards, for perk had only to swing his gun in a small section of a half-circle to spray the carnivora in succession. panic gripped those still remaining--possibly for the first time they whiffed the scent of human foes; so, too, they may have known what that crash of firearms, those spitting flashes of flame signified. waiting not upon the order of their going they abandoned all hopes of a well earned meal, and made off like so many streaks. perk ceased firing--he also gave a little whoop, as if triumph filled his veins with exaltation that must find some sort of vent. "hot ziggetty dig! jest see the cowardly critter lope out o' here, will you, partner?" was the burden of his shout, as the remainder of the lupine pack disappeared among the tree-trunks well beyond; "but what a danged shame the poor caribou's so bad hurt he jest can't move off--there, by the great horn spoon if he ain't laid down on the job; i kinder guess i hit in a little bit too late to help him any." as they approached the wretched victim of wolfish hunger and ferocity attempted to get on his legs again; but seemed too weak to do more than lift himself halfway, when he once more fell back. "better we put him out of his misery, perk," jack, suggested, knowing full well that the animal was doomed, no matter what they did; for if left to himself the wolf pack--what was left of it at any rate--was bound to return, and finish their slaughter. "you do it, brother," begged perk, "somehow i don't seem able to jest up an' knock him on the head. your rifle's a heap better for that job." "it will be a mercy, since he's done for, no matter how we look at it," the other went on to say; "so, game law or not, i've just got to do it." with the speedy crack of his thirty-thirty sporting rifle the caribou gave one expiring kick, and then lay there limp and lifeless. jack surveyed his victim, and shook his head as though he took no pleasure whatever in the act of mercy. "since necessity forced us into this game, perk, there's no reason why you shouldn't have your caribou steak for breakfast; though i've got an idea it may give your grinders some job, from toughness. go to it, brother; if you pronounce it eatable i may try a small portion myself, though i'm not building up any high hopes as to enjoying it." since it was daylight, and they were all aroused, they concluded there was no sense of "making two bites of a cherry." accordingly perk coaxed red to build up a good cooking-fire, while he proceeded to cut some slices from the intact flank of the fallen stag. at any rate it had an appetizing flavor while cooking, that caused red to look expectant. jack took a small portion on his pannikin, and started to masticate it in sections; but just the same he failed to clear off his plate, which would indicate that he hardly approved of that kind of venison. from the fact that perk did not see fit to select any more of the meat to carry along when they pulled out, one of three things must have affected him--either he did not anticipate having another chance to make use of a cooking fire in the near future; felt a bit worried as to what would happen if a game-warden, roving far afield, should happen along while he put in time at his culinary labors; or else even he had found the venison too tough for mastication--possibly a bit of all three reasons influenced him in abandoning the remainder of the carcass to those hungry brutes, undoubtedly still hovering in ambush not far away. then jack called out "boots and saddles," with the whole four mounting their waiting steeds, and galloping along the trail. xxvii on the dangerous trail the horses being fresh after the all-night bivouac, the little party made good time along the crooked trail. perk was enjoying himself to the limit, taking in all the old familiar sights--how well he remembered different happenings that were connected with this, or that special spot; indeed, he found it hard to believe some years had passed since he followed this path between frazer's trading-post of the great hudson's bay fur company, and the mounties' further north station. it was going on nine when they again came in sight of the long log building that housed the factor and his belongings--such as hawk and his bold crowd had left untouched during their recent raid. all seemed peaceful at the post, although the ashes marking the burned annex told how some unusual event must have recently taken place. they found old jimmy getting along as well as could be expected, but anxious for the coming of the doctor, in whom he had every confidence in the world. a superficial examination quickly put dr. hamilton in possession of sufficient knowledge upon which to base a verdict. "nothing very serious, mcgregor," he told the factor, in a cheery tone that did much to dissipate any fears the other may have entertained as to the outcome of his wounds. jack and perk too, were relieved, for both of them had reason to feel a burden was lifted from their hearts--perk because of his old friendship for the factor; and jack on account of his having given "first aid" to the victim of the lawless hawk's latest raid. turning to jack dr. hamilton surveyed him with kindling eyes. "if, as you said, young man," he told the flyer, "you are only an amateur at handling cases like this, i want to tell you everything has been carried out in a way that would not have shamed the best of surgeons. jimmy will owe a lot to your skillful work. and let me further say most earnestly, that if at some future date it ever occurs to you to change your profession, should you choose to follow that of surgery, i can easily predict a more than ordinary success awaits you--remember that, jack." "can you tie that?" burst out the grinning perk, who seemed more tickled at hearing these words of praise than was the blushing recipient himself. "i kinder guessed my best pal was topnotch 'long them lines when i watched him adoin' his stuff. so jack, in case you ever do get knocked out o' the cloud-chasin' game, plenty o' time left to climb up the ladder in the surgical ward." jack hurriedly left the room, although it would have been only natural for him to feel a little thrill at being thus praised by a professional man whom he had already begun to hold in high esteem. perk joined him outside, but was kept from doing much talking by the necessity of carrying out a number of needful errands. they did not expect to waste any unnecessary time hanging about the post--the trail was already cold, and it was essential that they get on the move as speedily as possible. jack well knew what difficult, and perhaps even sanguine work still remained to be accomplished, and as usual was eager to get it all over with. "we can't hang fire in this business," he was telling perk, who perhaps did not look at things in quite the same light, since his nature differed from that of his companion; "and until i see our man trussed up, to await our pleasure in hopping off for the border, i'll not have a peaceful moment. from now on this has to be a whirlwind campaign, and no mistake--get that, partner?" "huh! pleases me okay, ol' hoss," the other told him, nodding his head vigorously; "i'm in the game up to my neck, an' with me it sure is 'pike's peak--or bust!'" "we'll take a little time to look over our stuff," suggested jack, the always wise worker, who seldom left the slightest thing undone, and consequently, like other cautious sky pilots, seldom had a real accident overtake him. "make sure you've got plenty of cartridges for your gun, and than add another belt for good measure, because you never can tell what may happen, and it's best to be on the safe side--as a fire insurance agent once said on his advertising cards, it's 'better to _have_ insurance, and not _need_ it; than to _need_ insurance and not _have_ it.'" "yeah! i know it, jack, boy," admitted perk, "even if sometimes i do get caught nappin', an' have a peck o' trouble 'count o' my carelessness. i'm set to carry along every shell i fetched up here with me--this is the job they're meant for, an' why be a miser 'bout it?" "that's the ticket, partner," jack told him, apparently quite satisfied he had started his companion on the right road--perk sometimes had to be "shown," and then he would follow to the bitter end. red lowden had also been making sure nothing was forgotten, so far as he could tell. of course he was somewhat in the dark as to just what means jack meant to employ in order to bring about the success of the undertaking; but in the short time he had known the young secret service detective he had realized the capacity the other exhibited for handling just such intricate cases--if it were not so the astute head of the organization at washington would never have entrusted this difficult problem to his hands. of course, from this time forward it would be sergeant lowden who would take the lead, since he knew the country, and it was all a puzzle to jack--even perk would not be half as well acquainted with the ground as the one who for a dozen years had been going over the entire district for a radius of probably fifty miles in all directions. then, too, should any difficulty arise they could put their heads together, and find a solution to the problem, since many hands make light work, according to the old saying. while jack and perk were doing other things red had taken a look at the tracks left by the raiders. luckily no rain had fallen since they galloped away from the plucked post, and hence the imprints of their animals' hoofs could still be plainly located. besides this, red was depending considerably on certain secret information lately drifting in to colonel ascot, to help him out--as yet he had not said anything to jack and perk concerning this matter, but anticipated taking them both into his confidence before long, as it was essential they should understand just what resources he was banking upon in order to run the wolves to their secret den, the whereabouts of which had so long been unknown. and so, about an hour after arriving at frazer's, the trio again rode forth, to bring about the finishing touches of their campaign. even perk seemed sobered by the desperate character of the duties now devolving on the little party. outnumbered at least two to one, possibly with even greater odds against them, they would surely need all the boldness and strategy with which they were endowed, in order to bring about a successful finish to the invasion of the enemy's stronghold. sometimes they were compelled to go single-file on account of the narrow trail, alongside which great masses of mighty rocks were piled up; but in other places it was possible to ride three abreast; and these were the occasions when jack and red consulted, clearing up any foggy spots, so that they could work in unison when the time came for action. not a single incident occurred to take their attention from the fact that they were carrying their lives in their hands. now and then the guide would pull up in order that he might make use of the binoculars (which jack had taken pains to bring along) some suspicious clump of rocks such as would afford a most effective spot for an ambush needed closer observation; and red was too cautious a ranger to rush into a trap when it could be avoided. as they progressed jack noticed how their guide gradually slowed down; from which circumstance he judged they must be nearing the hidden retreat of the plunderers. it gave him increased confidence in the sagacity of the mounty sergeant, whose disposition corresponded more or less with his own. coming to a delightfully cold spring that bubbled up close to the trail, red called a halt. "a short rest will breathe the hosses," red was saying, after he had taken a good look at the trail beyond the wayside spring; "and by the same token i think it's high time i told you both about a little trick of luck that came my way just a week or so back; 'specially since it's got so much to do with the carrying out of this surround, and hoped-for haul." xxviii dodging the lookout perk looked eagerly at his old pal when sergeant red made that interesting disclosure. the three of them were sitting close to the spring at the time, engaged in passing a collapsible metal cup from hand to hand, and quenching their thirst from the clear water that came forth in apparently inexhaustible quantities. "huh! i kinder guessed now, red, ol' hoss, that you had a trump cyard up your sleeve all this while--reckon i ain't forgot a trick you used to play on us boys long ago, springin' a nice little surprise just when the game looked the bunk, an' we reckoned we was up a stump. hit it up then, an' tell us what sorter good luck it was you run smack up against, that's got somethin' to do with this here racket o' ourn." "i was riding slowly back to the station, after taking our mail to the nearest settlement, where it could go on its way by a carrier, when i chanced to hear what sounded like a groan. of course i first of all suspected it might be some sort of slick trap to get me off my mount; but after riding on a bit i dismounted and fastening my hoss, crept back. "turned out to be no fizzle after all, for i found a miserable looking man lying on the ground, half starved, badly wounded in an arm, and looking like he'd been in the river that was close by. "i reckoned he might be one of the crowd that worked with the hawk--had an idea i'd seen him before in bad company; but he was a tough looking sight, and i just felt sorry for the bloke. so i fed him, and looked after his hurts, what with a heap of bruises, and a bullet through the fleshy part of his left arm. "then i got him on my mount, and carried him all the way to the station. the colonel took charge, and had him put to bed, with doc. hamilton looking after his troubles. he got better right away, and on the third day said he must be going. then he confessed he had been a member of that hawk gang and that his name was gene hotchkiss, though we both reckoned it was one he'd tacked on when he came up here to keep out of jail. "he went on to tell us that he'd been fool enough to defy the hawk when full of hard stuff; and how the other had flashed a gun to shoot him through the shoulder; then knocked him down, kicked him in a passion; and finally, when he was mighty near senseless, ordered two of his men to pick him up and throw him over a cliff into the river. "how he managed to keep from being drowned when so weak and sore he couldn't explain--all he remembered was managing to pull himself out of the water when an eddy drew him in close to a shelving rock. later on he tried to make his way along in the direction of frazer's post, meaning to get out of this country, for his life would not be worth a pinch of salt if ever the hawk learned he hadn't been put out of the way. "he claimed to have a brother down in winnipeg, and swore black and blue he was going back to him, so as to try and redeem himself. colonel astor encouraged him, feeling that what he spoke was the truth. well, before he pulled out, going in company with a trapper chancing along right then, the chap was so grateful for all we'd done for him he up and told us a few things about the hawk, such as we'd been crazy to learn for seven coons' ages. "he described the location of the secret haunt of the gang, so we couldn't miss finding it when ready to pounce down on them. more than that he drew a sort of diagram, or chart, showing us how there was a back-door way of gettin' in, case they barricaded the main entrance--so far as he knew not a single guy of all the pack knew about this same rear door except himself; and he'd only found it out by sheer accident, keeping quiet, since he even then had a sneaking notion he'd have to pull out on the sly, if ever it came to a show-down between himself and the hawk." "that sounds like something well worth while," jack remarked, after red had apparently reached the end of his little yarn; "always provided what he told you was the truth, and not a fairy story invented to hoodwink you until he got out of touch, and could make his getaway." "i believe it was backed by solid truth," red stoutly affirmed; "and the colonel was of the same opinion. we were only waiting until several of the boys returned to the station after having their vacations, when we figured on pulling the roost, and closing out the whole bunch. then you hit our place, and he made up his mind to let you have your day, backing you up when the posse arrived after their wild goose chase, sent on a false information that the gang planned to raid the little settlement at frog's neck down the river fifty miles or so." acting on jack's request, red explained (by means of the rude chart made by the so-called gene hotchkiss) just where the retreat was located; and also what course they would have to pursue if necessity compelled them to attempt to break in through the back door. "if that stacks up against us," jack finally decided, "we can go over this thing again and get our bearings--it may not be necessary if we have a decent share of luck. and now, boys, let's move along, and start something." "when we get to a certain point," further advised the mounty guide, "it's going to be necessary for us to leave the trail, hide our hosses, and take to the rocks." "you reckon then they'll have a lookout posted to command the approach, and get wind of any threatening danger?" jack asked. "that hotchkiss guy told us they never left anything to chance," red explained; "he said that day and night a vidette is kept posted on a lookout point, where, unseen himself he can discover if even a fox comes along the only approach to the cave. he even said they had dynamite planted, with a wire running up to the den, so the whole works could be knocked into flinders if so be the mounties came along. we've got to find that wire, and disconnect it first thing we do." "je-ru-sa-lem crickets, i should say so!" perk chattered; "i ain't so set on doin' my flyin' in pieces that i'll cotton to any dynamite cache." then, as they were once more compelled to go single file on account of the rocks narrowing the trail, the consultation came to an end, and they continued to move ahead in utter silence save when a hoof chanced to strike the solid rock and made a subdued sound. each rider, however, tried to keep this from happening whenever possible, by skillful guidance with the bridle. perk kept watching the mountain that reared up its lofty peak thousands of feet above. it might be he was wondering what would happen should the guide through some mistake overlap the range of safety, and their coming be noted by the ever vigilant vidette posted in some eagle-like eyrie far up the slope. would their first warning of this fact be when a frightful explosion rent the atmosphere, and the massive rocks went flying in every direction, carrying themselves and their unlucky mounts along in sections? it was not a very cheerful subject to entertain, and perk might be pardoned for feeling a little cold chill creep up and down his spinal column, when for instance he suddenly caught a rumbling sound, like an earthquake in its first throes. it however turned out to be simply a land-slide, such as frequently took place, as perk himself very well knew, with great rocks, and a shower of loosened earth slipping down the slope with increasing momentum. "gosh a mity! that one near got my goat!" perk told himself, with a nervous little laugh; and as he brought up the rear just then neither of his mates saw his brief spasm of alarm, for which he was thankful. suddenly red threw up his arm. they had for some little time been walking their horses, and this warning signal brought them all to a complete standstill. jack shoved up alongside the leader, and they exchanged looks. "here's where we got to leave our mounts, and go on afoot," was what red explained, speaking in a low tone that added to the thrill of the occasion, at least so far as perk was concerned. "see this red-looking rock that cuts out halfway across the trail--that hotchkiss critter warned me not to pass it by--if we rode fifty feet further we'd come in line with the sentry up yonder." "i guess now an inch is as good as a mile," perk observed, grinning as though he had uttered some "wise crack" that did his discretion credit. looking around they soon found an opening in the wall on their right, through which the horses could be led. red was particular to take the animals quite some distance away, so that in case one of them took a notion to neigh, as horses are apt to do at unexpected times, the sound might not be heard by the man on the lookout post, or by any one chancing to be passing along the trail. so far so good; and yet the extra hazardous part of the undertaking was but beginning to loom up ahead. xxix the hawk at bay red led the way, of course. jack knew he was searching for the wire that ran from the planted explosive up to the spot where the vidette was stationed, his intention being to sever this strand so as to make the hidden dynamite futile for doing any damage. shortly afterwards the guide uttered a low exclamation as of satisfaction, following this up by kneeling down, and with a pair of pocket pliers cutting a wire that lay in plain sight on the rock. perk made a queer little noise, as though something in the way of a load had been taken from his chest. jack, too, felt relieved; and besides, their early success seemed to presage a good ending to the adventure. again they went on, climbing by devious ways, but always making progress up toward the little plateau which had been described to red by the former member of the bandit circle as the lookout's station. drawing gradually closer and closer in the end they could make out the figure of a man, seated arab fashion, with his legs drawn up under him, and watching the spot where the trail stood out so plainly to one far above. apparently he had as yet discovered no suspicious movement, and was unaware of what virtually hovered over his own devoted head. again did red assume the initiative, and jack was perfectly willing that this should be his part. whispering a few words in jack's ear placed close to his lips, the mounty sergeant moved away as noiselessly as a crawling serpent might have done, vanishing from their anxious eyes as though the rocks had opened to engulf him. the two sky pilgrims crouched there and waited, keyed up to a high pitch of anticipation and excitement. jack could hear perk drawing in each breath with a slight rasping sound; so, too, did the other move restlessly as the minutes passed until a quarter of an hour had slipped by. then jack noticed a faint movement just back of the lounging sentry, and something like four feet above his head. of course it was red, who had managed to attain this commanding spot without making any sound calculated to put the bandit lookout on the alert. perk, too, had glimpsed a face peering forth, and he as well as jack suspended breathing as they saw the sturdy mounty launch his body into space. following came a scuffling noise, as the two forms writhed and twisted there on the outcropping of rock, with a sheer drop of full a hundred feet, if one or both were so unfortunate as to squirm over the edge. at least there had not been the faintest shout given, proving how perfect all of red's movements had been calculated and carried out. no doubt the fingers of his right hand had clutched the sentry's throat in a flash, cutting off his wind, and reducing him to a condition of helplessness. two minutes afterwards and there was red grinning as he beckoned for his two mates to climb up to where he awaited them. upon reaching his side they found he had tied the prisoner's arms together behind his back; and perk making a quick examination, nodded as if vastly pleased over such a thorough job. borrowing a red bandana handkerchief--a fresh and new one perk had laid in for this especial occasion--red speedily made an effective gag which he secured over the senseless man's mouth, so that no matter how much he strove to cry out the best he could do would be to make a low moaning sound, hardly more than a grunt. after this had been accomplished red unceremoniously dragged him into an inviting fissure near by, where he could be left to himself. he had been coming into his senses at the time, and must have glimpsed the hated and feared uniform of the mounties, which would be apt to give him a nightmare, knowing as he did what measure in the way of penalties was due for his reckoning. again the daring trio set out to reach the hidden den. red led them by devious ways, always with the one thought of "playing safe" held up before him. inside of five minutes he pointed to where a network of vines covered the face of a small cliff. behind that curtain red knew the secret entrance of the freebooters' rendezvous was to be found. red's hunch turned out to be all to the good, as was proven when they investigated, and found an opening that seemed to lead into the solid rock. before taking chances by pushing into the black depths jack and red consulted once more in whispers. perk, hovering near by, suddenly glimpsed a moving object that turned out to be a hostile eavesdropper--undoubtedly one of the outlaws had been in the act of stepping out of the underground retreat when he made the thrilling discovery that the dreaded mounties were at the door. knowing from perk's actions that his presence was discovered, in a near panic the man attempted to get away. perk, however, hoping to prevent jack's plans for surprising the gang from being upset, made a furious rush toward the disappearing party. he hurled himself upon the man, and succeeded in throwing him down with such violence that the other was knocked senseless; but unfortunately before this happened the outlaw had let out a warning shriek, that must have echoed through the passages of the cavern. several shots rang out, proving how quickly the gang could take the alarm. loud voices, too, followed, and one in particular struck jack as most dominant and commanding; so that it hardly needed the quick explanation from red to tell jack he was listening to the hawk in person. perk, realizing that the battle was now on, started to do his share of the action; and the way he handled that machine-gun was a caution. its rap-rap-rap following each burst with others in rapid succession, made it appear as though a dozen of the surprise party must be thronging at the entrance, ready for a concerted rush. perhaps, too, those sheltered inside the dark interior of the wonderful cavern could catch occasional glimpses of the hated and feared uniform of the mounted police; for red was actively moving back and forth, with just this idea influencing him, to make them believe the entire force connected with the station had come upon the ground, bent upon making a complete sweep-up of the bunch at bay while they were about it. the fight went on quite merrily for some little time, with shots echoing through the corridors of the underground retreat. whether their hot fusilade was doing any harm the trio on the outside could not discover, for no longer were shouts being exchanged--the besieged bandits kept firing sullenly, nor did they seem to be lacking in an abundance of ammunition. realizing that they were getting nowhere by these ineffective tactics jack again sought suggestions from his second in command. when red vigorously advised that they try to find the secret rear entrance to the cavern, it struck jack as a sensible plan. knowing that there was little risk of the inmates making any serious attempt to rush out at this early stage of the battle, especially when unaware of the number of their foes, jack concluded to accept the risks and take his whole inadequate force with him in making an attack from the rear. it was indeed a lucky thing they had such a good guide at their disposal as red proved to be; for he had no particular trouble in leading them along a narrow ledge, and through a branch of the main canyon, until they presently reached a dark crevice in the shape of a rock fault, exactly as his informant had advised would be the case. this being the case they entered the split in the wall, and aided by occasional flashes from the hand electric torch jack carried, managed in the end to reach the main cavern. here torches fastened to the walls in the regulation fashion, allowed them to see the flitting figures of the alarmed bandits moving to and fro, as though engaged in changing their stores to some more secure location. it appearing that only by a sudden rush could they hope to strike consternation into the hearts of the already panicky bunch, jack gave the word, and with loud shouts and much firing of guns the three boldly rushed the enemy. in return came a volley of answering shots; but apparently this unexpected attack from the rear unnerved the outlaws, for breaking they rushed into an inner chamber, which had evidently been prepared for a last stand in case of just such an emergency as had now arrived. when the three came on the spot it was to find only a single form stretched on the rocky floor, and with a stout oaken door checking their further advance. xxx back over the border--conclusion taking stock of the situation jack found that things did not look so satisfactory as he could have wished. the outlaws, with but two missing from their number, so far as jack could tell, had now retreated back of what seemed in the nature of a fort, which might defy all the efforts of himself and two companions to break in. the thing that worried jack most of all was the fact that perk had been wounded in the last exchange of fierce firing. just how serious this might prove he could not say; but his chum's left arm seemed to hang helplessly at his side; although otherwise the war veteran displayed his usual scorn of a little blood-letting on his part. "looks kinder like we might be up a tree, partner," perk hoarsely told him as they came together while dodging the hot firing. "mebbe now you'd better gimme permission to heave a couple o' them little tear gas marbles into that ere hole in the wall! see there's a place right over that same heavy door they left open for ventilation like; i could make a little rush up and push the pills through it in three shakes o' a lamb's tail. say the word, buddy, an' let's end all this guess work." jack himself realized it would be their best policy; he had before then witnessed the effective nature of those same small bombs under conditions not so very unlike those now confronting them; and remembered how mutinies in jails and penitentiaries down in the states were being effectually quelled by the use of similar methods. "all right, perk, have your way; the quicker it's done the better, for i must have a look at that arm of yours, old man." perk seemed well pleased, and lost not a second in "getting a move on," as he himself would have termed it. making a speedy dash he managed to reach the vicinity of the fastened door, drew back his right arm, and then shot it forward. a second time was the movement carried out, after which he staggered along the rocky wall, and fell at jack's feet as if exhausted by his supreme effort. jack's first impulse was to bend down in order to see what he could do to help his wounded pal; but perk refused to be counted out. "go on and play the game to a finish, buddy," snapped the other, managing to attain a sitting posture, and pawing for his gun, lying close by; "i'm all to the good--don't bother 'bout me now--get your men first thing--i'll hold out okay--go to it, partner. gosh! jest hear 'em whoopin' things up, will you?" the inmates of the barricaded fort were indeed creating a frightful row, cursing, and shouting, and begging some one to open the door so as to give them fresh air, saying their eyesight was gone, and they were stone blind. red had taken up his position close to one side of the door, as if waiting to nail the first fellow who came staggering forth, groping in utter darkness, and with his eyeballs smarting frightfully; so there was nothing for jack to do but back the efficient mounty up. one of the prisoners and victims of the tear gas bombs managed to remove the bar holding the massive door; and as they came staggering forth, one after another, those awaiting seized hold, frisked them for weapons, and with incredible swiftness snapped a pair of handy steel bracelets upon their several wrists. it was soon all over but the shouting--there proved to be six of the outlaws, including the hawk himself. the latter, when undergoing the agonies attending the effects of the gas, displayed no symptoms of his accustomed bravado, although he did not whimper, and plead, like some of the other victims. jack hastened to take a look at perk's wound, and found that while he had lost considerable blood, and seemed weak, there was not anything very serious about it--a rest of several days would set him on his feet again without any doubt. anxious to get back to the station with their prisoners they lost no time in looking over the secret hiding place of the now demoralized gang which could wait for another day; but loading the prisoners on the horses, made a speedy start. three hours later what was their delight to suddenly meet a body of mounties heading toward the scene of the recent battle; and at their head rode none other than colonel ascot himself. as dr. hamilton was believed to be at the trading post, and jack wished to have him look after perk, they headed in that direction first of all, each of the troopers having one of the dejected prisoners in front of him astride his mount. their coming created quite a sensation at the post, and the old factor quite naturally rejoiced at the prospect of presently recovering all the stock so recently carried off by the bold swoop of the outlaw gang. since the leading spirit of the organization, known to them only as the hawk, was booked to be returned to leavenworth; and the minor offenders would get their liberty cut off for years to come, it looked as though peace was likely to reign throughout that section of the northwest territory for keeps. after perk's arm had been cared for it was determined to keep on in the direction of the mounties' headquarters, carrying all their prisoners along. they reached their objective about noon on the following day, not being able to make fast progress on account of the double burdens carried by the horses. then came the biggest surprise of all, so far as jack and perk were concerned. the former and dr. hamilton were having a little chat, and perk on his part sat in the sun amusing himself by staring at something he held in his one good hand. jack, as if by accident, steered his companion over that way, so they came up behind perk, quite unaware of their presence. he was, as might be said to be his habit, talking with himself. "hang the luck!" they heard him mutter as if greatly annoyed; "there she slipped me again, jest like the greased pig they try to ketch in that silly game--i was goin' to say that name as slick as you please, but now i lost connections again. adrian--adrian _what_?" "where did you get that picture?" demanded a voice close to his ear, as a hand shot out and snatched it from his grasp. "why--what--here, what business you got takin' my property?" gasped perk as turning his head awkwardly he looked in astonishment at dr. hamilton, strangely excited; while jack stood by, nodding his head, and grinning, as if some suspicion he had entertained was now confirmed. "because he is _my_ boy--i am doctor adrian bahrman!" when the surgeon said this as though determined to no longer hide his identity behind a false name, perk gave a tremendous start, and turning to jack cried out: "hot diggetty dig! _did_ you hear that, partner--he said it, the name i been tryin' to get out for ever so long! knowed it was somethin' that begun with a b, didn't i tell you? now i c'n get some peace, anyway. an' me always wonderin' where i'd seen a face like you'rn, doc. shake hands on that." of course jack had to tell the story, and when the thrilled doctor learned how perk had evidently saved the lives of his dear ones he again wrung the unbandaged hand of that individual with might and main, tears streaming down his cheeks. they had decided to spend several more days at the station, so perk would be in condition for the return trip; and there were frequent occasions for the whole story to be told on both sides. dr. bahrman told them just why he had been influenced to hide himself away up in the wilderness--he had been betrayed by a cousin of his wife's, who had once been a suitor for her hand in marriage. so cleverly had a plot been woven around him that through circumstantial evidence it seemed as though he were guilty of a forgery, and when out on bail he had been urged to flee, especially by his wife. when he learned how adrian's mother was now searching for him, with good news of some sort, he decided to go back to the states with jack, and take his chances of being freed from the odium of being a fugitive from justice. but just the same a turn of fortune's wheel decided that this should not be--that having suffered for all these months from the outrageous flings of malice and hatred, things had suddenly changed for the better. on the day before the one selected for making a start in the airship, carrying their moody captive with them, there was a sudden burst of shouting; and as jack hurried out of the log building he was thrilled to catch the strangely familiar throbbing sound of a plane in the heavens. they stood there, every one at the station, watching the oncoming of a sky-racer; and even before it dropped down perk had pronounced it a new-model sikorsky amphibian, wasp powered, he being more or less of an authority on such matters. but as it turned out that was only a small part of the surprise awaiting them; for no sooner had the boat settled in the river close to shore than two men landed, helping a woman and a child along. jack saw dr. bahrman start to run toward them as fast as his legs could carry him; and just as he was suspecting would prove to be the case, when the woman hurriedly snatched off the goggles and helmet she had been wearing, he recognized her as the mother of little adrian, quickly to be wrapped in the arms of her eager husband; nor did the dancing boy have to wait long ere he too was held in a close embrace. the story mrs. bahrman told was like a leaf taken from some volume of fairy tales. the wicked cousin had been overtaken by the penalty for his plotting, having been in a serious road accident when his car was smashed by a train at a crossing; but before he died he had the decency to make a sworn statement before a justice of the peace, entirely exonerating dr. bahrman from the forgery charge that had been skillfully woven around him, so that nothing now stood in the way of the reunited family returning to their former home, and taking up their lives just where this wretched happening separated them. mrs. bahrman, remembering that she had a brother in the navy who was an efficient aviator and had made quite a name for himself, sought his assistance the very day after she and her boy had been saved from the burning tenement in salt lake city, he being stationed in los angeles at the time. this brother being in high favor with the authorities readily secured permission to use a new government ship just placed in his charge; and carrying an assistant pilot, along with the two bahrmans, started over the line for canada, the devoted wife having in some way learned that her absent mate might be found in the vicinity of the advanced northern frontier post of the mounties. so after all, when jack and perk started on the following day, it was with the knowledge that soon afterwards the sikorsky would be following them, carrying a happy party homeward bound. they had no trouble with their prisoner, who seemed to be of a reckless disposition, and snapping his fingers at fate--he only said he had had a run for his money, and could afford to let matters take their course--that a man could die but once, and after all they did not treat prisoners badly at fort leavenworth. having duly delivered their man to the federal district attorney in spokane who would see that he was returned to the penitentiary, jack and perk again waited further orders from washington that would send them forth upon yet another flight through the clouds, following the path of duty. transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). trackers of the fog pack or jack ralston flying blind by ambrose newcomb author of the sky detectives eagles of the sky wings over the rockies sky pilots' great chase new york the goldsmith publishing co. publishers copyright the goldsmith publishing co. made in u. s. a. contents _chapter_ _page_ i perk sighs for action ii he gets his wish iii echoes of the past iv by special delivery v the cat is out of the bag vi laying plans vii ready for anything viii the winged messenger ix headed for trouble x battling with the fog xi the mystery airship xii when the dawn broke xiii all thanks to simeon xiv closing the gap xv a clever landing xvi up against a silver-tip xvii perk shows his hand xviii the circling buzzards xix taking great chances xx on the encircling cliff xxi all on a diet xxii the man with the cook's cap xxiii perk carries on xxiv in the tom sawyer cavern xxv squatters' rights xxvi a back door to the valley xxvii pike's peak, or----bust! xxviii invading the tigers' lair xxix all ready for the grand blowout xxx the end of robbers' roost----conclusion trackers of the fog pack chapter i perk sighs for action san diego, in sunny southern california, was looking its prettiest, with balmy breezes blowing softly; cloudless blue skies overhead; the usual throngs on the streets, and a general atmosphere of contentment resting over the entire place. already tourist pilgrims were beginning their annual migration from the cold lands of the north and northeast, seeking the more congenial climate along the picturesque coast, where flowers bloomed throughout every month of the year; and outdoor sports of all descriptions tempted those inclined that way to participate. but, just the same, there appeared to be _one_ individual sauntering along main street, in a certain san diego suburb, who did not seem to share in the general joyous spirit--this grumbler amidst such perfect surroundings was really an old friend of the reader, no other than gabe perkiser, familiarly known among his fellows of the flying fields by the shorter name of "perk." at his side stalked his bosom pal, jack ralston, in whose company latterly the said perk had participated in a number of thrilling flying stunts, all of which have been narrated in the earlier books of this series of aviation stories. those who have enjoyed a previous recital of their adventures in the precarious vocation they followed, as policemen of the skies, need no further introduction to the pair of cronies. for the benefit of new readers, less fortunate, it may be said right here, before embarking on the latest and most thrilling of their recent exploits, that jack and perk were trusted members of uncle sam's wide-flung secret service organization; and on account of their clever and conscientious work, often entrusted with some of the most dangerous and difficult missions engaging the attention of the high "muck-a-muck" (perk's definition) authorities at washington headquarters. "what puts you in the dumps so, perk?" jack was asking, after noticing for the tenth time what a frown had settled on his chum's usually smiling phiz. "dinner knocking harder than customary; or did you get a letter from your best girl, breaking off the engagement? strikes me you're fast becoming a chronic crêpe-hanger these days." "that's all hot air--boloney i'd call it, as yeou know right well, jack!" perk flung back. "chow was all to the good--ain't got nary a best gal, an' never did have, neither--they're all rank pizen to me. guess again, mister." "then what _does_ ail you, boy--something gone wrong with your plans--can i do anything to ease the strain? i'd go a long way to get you out of that black look, partner; you're worrying me a heap i allow." the other stopped short on main street's pavement, and looked his companion straight in the face, actually smiling a bit in the bargain. "yeou _would_ do jest that, ole pal, wouldn't yeou? i know i'm a tarnel fool to get stewed like this," he burst out; "an' orter be ashamed--i'm meanin' to kick outen it right away. fact is, it's the same ole story, jack--i'm gettin' fed up by things goin' too smooth. guess it's in the blood--my yankee ancestors they was all men o' action, doers o' things that called fur courage an' double risk. they set their seal on me, seems like; fur ever since i was a kid i've been on the hunt fur adventure by land an' sea; yeah, an' o' late years, in the air besides. that's all i gotter say; but blood'll tell ev'ry time." "well," remarked jack, looking much relieved it could be seen. "i more than half suspected this, perk; but cheer up--the longest lane must have its turning. meanwhile we're getting our regular pay from our uncle samuel, remember!" "but not earnin' a red cent, jest the same, which is what upsets me most," continued the complaining one. "makes me feel like i'm sorter pensioned off, an' ain't worth the snap o' my fingers to the service. huh!" "nonsense, boy, that's a silly way of looking at things. we're just resting up after that difficult job we pulled off, with the help of the mounted police, far away up in northwest canada.[ ] that successful flight, and arrest, earned us a vacation, our superiors believe; which i for one have enjoyed immensely. now i'm feeling fine, and fit for the next commission the big boss decides to hand out to us." "hot-diggetty-dig! then i sure hopes it drifts this way right quick," perk eagerly observed. "i kinder guess them racketeers an' their crowd o' bootleggers must a got things mighty near sewed up, when the department lets us loaf away our time out here on the gold coast. if it keeps on we'll be apt to forget heow to handle a ship, an' get air shy--neow _wouldn't_ that same be a tough joke on us poor guys?" "little danger of such a thing coming to pass, perk--it's a whole bit like swimming--once you learn how to keep afloat it's good for a life-time." "mebbe so, jack--i got a hunch it's the same way with ridin' a bike used to be--first few days yeou felt stiff in all yeour joints, ev'rything out o' kelter; but when a chump got used to guidin' the skittish wheel along it came as easy as fallin' off a log. honest injun, neow, jack, ain't yeou any idea when we're apt to grab an order to get goin' again?" "any old day i'm looking for the same, perk." "gosh! that don't strike me as givin' much encouragement, partner," perk told his mate, aggrievedly. "i wrote in ten days ago," jack went on to say, quietly, "to say our ship was in first-class condition, while we were on deck, waiting for orders." "bully for yeou!" snapped perk, brightening up visibly, as though, like a war horse at the scent of burnt powder making his nostrils quiver with anticipation. "i'm right neow yearnin' to set eyes on a different landscape than sleepy ol' san diego, an' slow towns borderin' on the same." perk only stated a truth when he referred to his adventurous life. he was considerably older than his running mate, having been over in france when only eighteen years of age, handling a sausage balloon on the fighting line, and running into numerous close corners, having been shot down at least twice. after the war was over he came home, and started learning the ropes of the new craze--flying; becoming a very good pilot in time, though a bit reckless, it must be admitted. then he drifted into the lumber camps, and played logger for a few seasons. after that perk, who was proud of having a strain of canadian blood along with his yankee heritage, turned up among the mounties in the far northwest regions and spent some years doing service with those dashing officers enforcing the law of the wilderness. meeting up with jack ralston--after being coaxed to throw his fortunes in with the secret service at washington, he took a strong liking for the bright-witted youngster, and they had been boon comrades ever since, sharing their blankets, meeting all manner of peril in company, and becoming what might be called real "blood brothers." so, too, had jack been through some interesting experiences, although not of the same thrilling character as those perk could look back to, when musing of the past. he had had a run of circus training, being a natural athlete; and on the bills had been advertised as a famous trapeze performer. then naturally the lure of the air gripped jack, and forsaking the sawdust ring he began making parachute drops with one of those barnstorming aviators possessing a dilapidated crate with which he was wont to give exhibitions at harvest home festivals, and county fairs all over the west--just as lindbergh did in his school days. it was in this fashion that young ralston learned to be a clever pilot; and possibly his skill at the controls was one leading factor bringing about an earnest invitation for him to join up with the secret service--about that time it became evident that a new branch of the law organization must be built up, in order to compete with the lawless smuggling gangs that were already using airplanes with which to fetch contraband of every description into the country. so well did the pair co-operate that they worked as two parts of the whole machine--as one hand knows what the other hand requires to make a finished product so their brains often worked in unison, thus adding additional strength to their united efforts. as they continued their walk, meaning to return to the city in time for lunch, perk continued to ramble on with observations covering much ground; for he had a decided opinion on every variety of subject, and could be depended on to exploit his ideas at the slightest invitation. "no use talkin,' jack," he was saying, as he tapped his pocket significantly, "that same jerry slocum's a crackin' good locksmith an' gunsmith. i took up with his offer, yeou know, to put my ol' six-shooter, used in france with my work in the sausage balloon corps, in apple-pie condition; an' he done a smart job. he happened to have some ammunition to fit the gun, so i laid in a bunch o' cartridges, meanin' to shoot at a target when time hung heavy on my hands. but listen, will yeou, ol' pard, what's all that whoopin' mean 'round the corner jest ahead--sounds like a reg'lar _stampede_ was takin' place, i'd say if yeou asked me?" ----- footnote : see "_sky pilots' great chase_." chapter ii he gets his wish "some excitement, i own up, perk," agreed jack, exchanging a look of inquiry with his companion. "dog fight, like as not, since i thought i heard a yowling just then, as if one mutt'd got his in the neck." "jest hear the people a shoutin' will yeou?" snapped perk. "but that doesn't sound like they were enjoying themselves a heap, i'd say, boy--such screaming and yelling--they're badly rattled over whatever's going on. what could it all mean, i wonder?" "hot-diggetty-dig! we'll know right soon, ole hoss; 'cause it's headin' this way--gettin' a heap louder ev'ry second, i vow! guess yeou struck it right when yeou sez they must be skeered into a near panic. don't hear no guns agoin' off, so it cain't be a brawl 'tween drunken bootleggers an' town constables. well, i swan, it gets me--look at the folks a beatin' it to the houses, like they reckoned they'd be safer there. mebbe we better shin up a telegraph pole like that youngster's a doin' over yonder--he means to git high an' dry, so's to see the circus, but not take chances with the runaway animal's flyin' heels. wow! what's this i lamp a comin' 'reound that corner, waggin' his ole head from side to side--a big yeller _dog_, jack, with foam a drippin' from his open red mouth! great guns!" "that beast is as mad as a hatter!" boomed jack, thrilled by the frightful sight. "he's bound to own the whole street, no matter if a battalion of cops try to sheer him off!" "mebbe, mate," perk was shouting "we'd better be steppin' to one side in a hurry; i ain't lost nary dog; an' i'm not fool enough to want to stand up 'fore one that's rabid--not gabe perkiser! get a move on, jack, an' vamose!" "wait up!" cried the other, for so great was the clamor no one could expect to be heard unless he fairly shouted. "excuse me, boy--i got a date!" perk bellowed back, grinning as he spoke. "look ahead, perk--that child--little boy he is--fell down in his fright, and must've sprained his ankle--see him try to scramble up again; but he can't manage it, what with his fright and twisted ankle. the dog--it's making straight for the youngster--we can't stand by, and see him tackle such a mere baby--we've just _got_ to do something, perk!" "sure do, partner--let's go!" others were running in every direction save toward the great ugly beast, thinking in their panicky state of nerves only of their own safety. all the while the shouts continued to go booming along the length of main street: "mad dog! mad dog! everybody run--get the children indoors! he's rabid and ready to snap at anybody in his way! run for it!" but the poor little baby directly in the path of the oncoming demon could not heed the shouts--vainly he tried to crawl to one side, his terrified eyes fixed on that dreadful vision of fury and rabies confronting him, and drawing closer with every passing second. jack and perk were galloping forward with all their might, intending to throw themselves between the child and that stumbling terror with the lolling head and dripping jaws. it could be seen that perk was gripped by a sudden inspiration--he had dragged some sort of object from his pocket, and was working feverishly with the same. jack understood, and inwardly blessed the lucky chance that had caused his pal to fetch his old war weapon out to his friend the town gunsmith, so as to have it put in first-class condition. it must have been the hand of a kind fate that brought about this wonderful coincidence, jack was telling himself, when guessing that the running airman must be trying with all his cleverness to insert a cartridge or two into the chambers of the small, antiquated six-shooter. fortune favored them, for they were enabled to pass beyond the writhing and shrieking child, thus facing the danger themselves as a shield to buck up against the charge of the mad dog. perk dropped down on one knee--it was the natural position for one to assume under such conditions, bringing him more on a level with the beast. jack, too, knew he had a part in the scheme to save the tiny lad--lacking a weapon of any kind he could not stand by perk; but one thing was left to him, which was to snatch up the imperiled child, and leap to safety before the crisis crashed upon them. even as he was thus bearing the lad out of the danger zone, he caught a sudden explosion that told him perk had sent in a shot. it was his bosom pal crouched back there with that shaggy beast almost upon him; for he knew full well perk had waited until he could make doubly certain of his aim. somehow jack could not keep from turning his head, so as to know the worst--he had a cold feeling in the region of his heart, undoubtedly fearing he would discover perk engaged in a furious struggle at close quarters with the animal, one bite from whose jaws would contaminate the flesh his cruel fangs thus mangled. but that fear was instantly put to flight--perk still knelt there, while the furious beast writhed on the ground, making frightful efforts to get up on its four feet again. this he no sooner succeeded in doing than perk let him have a second leaden pill, working his keepsake weapon of the great war with mechanical precision. how lucky then he must have succeeded in thrusting _two_ cartridges into the maw of his gun, since there proved to be such great need of an _encore_. it was "all over but the shouting," as perk himself would have put it. he rose to his feet, and coolly stepped forward, to bend over and see that there no longer remained a single breath in the carcase of the terrible brute he had stayed in his mad passage through the town. the tenor of the wild shouts changed like magic--joy and triumph, not to say relief, began to be heard, as if reassuring the frightened populace there was no longer anything to be feared--the ogre jabberwock had been laid low, and once again the length of main street could be traversed without peril to life and limb. and the one who had performed this valorous deed seemed only anxious to make himself scarce before the worshiping citizens could lay hands on him--shower him with thanks, perhaps _kisses_ as well from the gentler sex, who knew a hero in the flesh as well as on the hollywood screen. jack was trying the best he knew how to allay the terror of the child he still held in his arms, speaking to him with assurance in his tones, and squeezing the white-faced little chap close to his heart. "it's all right, buddy," he kept saying, with a comforting smile on his face, that was bound to stop the trembling sobs of the other, if anything could. "the ugly dog can't hurt you, for he's been killed, and can never bite anybody. you must have hurt your ankle, little brother; i'm going to carry you to where you live, so they can take care of you, and get the kind doctor to take the pain away. put your arms around my neck, and i'll be able to hold you better--that's the way, kiddie; you know i'm a good friend of yours, don't you?" the crowd was all around them by this time, milling so as to get as close as possible--it reminded jack of cattle being rounded up by expert punchers, so as to be shipped to market, or it might be, branded. "stand back, please, and give us air!" jack called out, to add: "perk, see that they don't crowd in any further. i'm not going to be satisfied until i've seen this little lad safe in his home. who knows where he lives?" there were a dozen voices raised in explanations; but jack lifted a hand to stop the confused racket. "hold up on that!" he told them, sharply; "i want just one person to tell me--here, you boy, you seem to know him okay--tell me his name, will you, and where he lives--nobody else break in now, get that? go on, george, speak up!" "my name's jimmy--his'n is laddy boy--he lives with his granny mrs. fergussan right 'round that next corner, in a little shack." "fine for you jimmy--lead us to it; and please everybody stop pushing--that shouting must be dropped, or you'll have the old lady frightened half to death before we get there. now start along, jimmy--you're a good pal to tie to, i'll say." so they made a start, with scores following after them, all talking; but in more subdued tones. possibly they realized that this young chap with the capable look, and firm voice, was one accustomed to having his orders obeyed without any questions being asked, and that he would brook no interference. as they turned into the side street the young pilot hastened to point in the direction of a small old, but respectable looking cottage of some three rooms, that was surrounded by masses of flowers in full bloom. jack could see the door of the small house was wide open, and that an elderly woman stood there, shading her eyes with a hand, as she watched the approach of the crowd. undoubtedly she must have heard what had been so loudly shouted, when the mad dog was causing such a panic on main street--she may even have started toward the nearby corner, with a great fear tugging at her heart, knowing her laddie boy was going about on the little errand she had entrusted to him; but if so fear had driven her back to the home, where she could slam the door shut in case personal peril threatened her. seeing jack in the lead of the procession, carrying some object in his arms, she came flying down to meet him, looking aghast. "don't be so alarmed mrs. ferguson," jack said, sympathizing with her new fears; "he wasn't bitten by the dog; but had the bad luck to sprain his ankle. it's nothing serious, i'm telling you straight--lead the way, and i'll put him on a bed, when you can send for the doctor to look him over; but don't worry--he's safe enough, i promise you." presently jack joined his partner. "let's go, matey," perk hastened to say, uneasily, as though he feared those admiring good folks outside were actually conspiring to pick him up on their shoulders, and march around town with the hero of the mad dog scare; something like that, but to which he was very must averse. "wait a few minutes," jack told his nervous comrade, "i promised the old lady i'd stay out here until the doctor had looked the child over; she wants to get the story out of us, i imagine, guessing something queer must have happened, from the way those folks kept pawing at us." perk drew a long breath, and muttered something under his breath that sounded like "drat the tough luck;" but he did settle down on a chair, and amused himself looking around the room, on the walls of which were a number of cheap pictures, also several portraits. "come over here, perk," jack was saying, as he stood in front of the picture of a man, "here's a queer happening--look at that face--have you ever seen it before?" chapter iii echoes of the past looking rather surprised, as well as duly curious after his nature, perk accordingly stepped blithely up, took one good stare, and immediately burst out with his characteristic and pet "swear-word" phrase: "hot-diggetty-dig! hard to b'lieve my eyes, for a fact, partner--course i seen that phiz afore neow, an' same stirs up some mighty warm session we passed through a while back." "then you say it's a portrait of slim garrabrant?" asked jack, in a lower key, and with a quick glance toward the connecting door that was a bit ajar it happened. "none other, buddy--the slickest flim-flam artist that ever fooled the banks of every state west o' the mississip--fair good job that crayon artist made o' his work--mebbe copied from a reg'lar photo. ain't this this the limit though--to think o' runnin' acrost _his_ mug out here clost to san diego. huh! i allers heard the world seemed mighty small sometimes, an neow i b'lieves it." jack put a finger up to his lips warningly. "softly, perk. that old lady must be some close connection of slim's, i'd say; it may be his own mother--yes, the fact of finding his picture hanging on this wall in an honored place makes that plain; she evidently doesn't know what a rogue her boy is--they must have kept things from reaching her ears after we gobbled him up, and he was sent to leavenworth--or was it atlanta?" "yeou got me there, 'cause i never did know," observed perk, taking yet another look at the face within the gold frame. "aint sech a tough looker as we know he is, eh, ole pal?" "yes, that's a fact; but then this was evidently taken years ago, most likely, before he became so hardened. i wonder--" "what neow, jack?" "that handsome little boy must be some relative of slim's," said jack, on a hazard; "if he was old enough i'd begin to believe the kid was his own child--they call her grandmammy ferguson, remember--yes, that would square things i'd reckon, perk." "aint it won-der-ful?" the other was saying, half to himself apparently; "jest to think o' us arunnin' smack into somebody connected with the man we was responsible for sendin' to the pen years ago. 'bout one chanct in a million sech a thing could happen; but it shore has." jack also showed that he was feeling about the same as his comrade; indeed it was one of the queerest episodes he had ever met up with. "if that turns out to be a fact," he went on to comment, "i imagine garrabarnt behind the bars would give considerable for a glimpse of that kid's sweet face." "i wouldn't blame him any at that, jack. how 'bout the kid--dye kinder guess he'll have a bad time with that leg?" "the doctor will be able to say after he's had a lookover," came the confident answer. "my opinion is it'll prove to be a simple sprain, and if such is the case the child will only have to keep quiet for a spell. there's a car stopping at the gate, and the man getting out has the look of a professional--yes, he's carrying a little satchel in the bargain, so it must be the doctor she sent after." this proved to be the case, for the young man spoke to them on entering, and seemed very agreeable. "what's happened here?" he asked, as though his hasty summons, and the sight of that excited crowd outside, had aroused his curiosity greatly. jack thought the doctor should be told what necessity there was for his services; as such knowledge would prepare him for what must follow. accordingly he very briefly explained, making light of what connection he and perk had with the matter. thus forewarned the doctor smiled his thanks, and hastened to pass into the room where the old lady and the child were located. some little time afterwards the doctor came out again. perk could see from the look on his face it was not so very serious, nor was he mistaken in his diagnosis. "a simple sprain, just as you suspected," the physician assured them; "and he'll be running around again inside of five days." he shook hands with them very earnestly, which fact caused perk to remark, after the doctor had passed out of the door: "huh! it's mighty plain to be seen, jack, he's smart enough to smell a rat--the grip he gimme said as he kinder guessed _we_ had a finger in the pie. look for yeourself, partner--he's talkin' to some o' the folks out there, an' i jest bet yeou they're a makin' out we done somethin' grand. rats! why caint a gink do a simple thing like we done without people wantin' to gush over him? makes me fair sick to see so much o' the stuff wasted. do we get a move on right away, mate?" "better wait up a bit until he starts back to his office," suggested jack, also peeping out of the window. "yeou said it, jack--if we stepped eout right neow it'd look like we wanted 'em to give us a cheer--as for me i'd be glad if we could slip away by the back door, an' give 'em the laugh. there, he's gettin' into his car, an' the coast's clear." jack stepped into the other room to say goodbye to the old lady--for she did seem to be of a higher class than one would think from the humble cottage she called home--truth to tell jack wished to have another look at that bright-faced little lad, whom he was apt to remember for a long time. the boy had come-to, and shook hands at jack's request, also gave him a sweet smile. "if he owes either of us any thanks," jack told granny, as he turned to leave, "it should go to my chum; who chanced to have a gun in his pocket, having had it cleaned and repaired at a shop here--he threw himself between the ugly dog and the child, and shot the mad brute dead. the lad wasn't touched, i assure you, madam." "thank him for me a thousand times, please, young man--it was a brave act, and his mother surely has cause to be grateful for having such a son. come and see us sometime later on; both of us will be very glad to have you drop in." jack hurried out, with a strange thought racing through his brain; he could not help wondering what that fine elderly woman would think if only she knew how the two young men thus befriending her grandson (who must have been so precious to her heart) had been the chief instrument in shape of the outraged law to run down and send her son-in-law slim garrabarnt, up to the penitentiary for a long term of years, as a much wanted criminal. it was hardly a pleasant thought, but nothing to be ashamed of, since he merely represented the government in all he had done, and could not be blamed any more than the judge who dealt out the grim sentence. perk was eager to be gone, and led the way outside. they pushed a passage through the still jabbering crowd, and walked off, followed by admiring looks from those gathered there. on the way back to the city perk seemed to be wrapped in his own thoughts much of the time, which was such an unusual occurrence that jack marveled to take note of his silence. "still o' the opinion the kid might be his'n?" perk asked his companion, as they finally drew near the location of the building in which they had a furnished room. "feel pretty sure of it," he was told, without the slightest hesitation. "i explained to the old lady that it was you who kept the dog from contact with the child, and she asked me to thank you with all her heart." "shucks! why did yeou ever mention sech a thing, pal jack? 'twan't nawthin' 'tall--jest a soft snap for a chap what was yearnin' for action. but it gives me a queer thrill to know heow we run up agin _his_ folks--'bout a hundred-an'-thirty million people in this here country, an' to think we'd pick 'em aout o' all that mob--it sure has got me buffaloed for keeps." as jack opened the locked door of their room he stooped to pick up some object that had been thrust underneath. perk saw it was a letter, with a special delivery stamp on the same. somehow its coming gave him a sudden thrill around the region of his heart, as though he could sense important news in the offing--apparently this was destined to be a red-letter day in their experiences, with a decided break in the long release from active duty. chapter iv by special delivery somewhat to the disappointment of perk his comrade did not evince any haste about opening his letter, thrusting the same into his pocket, while he washed his hands, and brushed his hair. "somehow i seem to be as hungry as a wolf," jack remarked; "and as it's long past our usual time for lunch i move we drop around to our beanery, and lay in some stores in the way of chow." of course such a proposition appealed strongly to perk, who was seldom able to resist a call to meals. for the moment he quite forgot his recent curiosity to know what was in the letter, the receipt of which had caused jack to smile; and which moreover had certain familiar marks about it to make perk feel certain it came from headquarters. "queer heow a feller c'n nigh 'bout forget certain stirrin' events in his past," he observed with a shake of his head; "an' suddenly have the same bob up in his mind, as clear as if they might a happened on'y yesterday." "i reckon you're referring to our old friend, cool slim garrabrant, eh, perk?" queried the other, indifferently. "none other," came the reply. "there was a man as might be called the king o' the counterfeiters, who'd had his thumb to his nose ever so long, alaughin' at uncle sam's slick boys, an' sendin' 'em all sorts o' tauntin' notes; so in the end the chief he come down off'n his high perch, an' gave _us_ a chanct to knock down the persimmons with a long pole; which we done as neat as any body'd choose." "bad taste to boast, perk, you want to remember." "can't help sayin' a few things, jack, an' pattin' us two flyin' cops on the chest. honest, i got an idea slim's sun had begun to set jest as soon as the job o' runnin' him in was placed in aour hands. nobody but them as knew haow to handle an airship could a fetched home the bacon in that case; 'cause slim he knowed how to get his long-green stuff clear withaout leavin' any trace, usin' that ole crate to carry the coney supplies east an' west o' his hidin' place, where he carried on the work along a big scale." "of course what you say is all true enough," ventured jack as they walked along, heading for the nearest eatingplace, which they sometimes patronized when close by; "but both of us would do well to try and forget our share in that haul--it's old stuff by now. and besides," continued jack, "somehow i feel bad when i remember that it was probably that little kid's own daddy we sent up." "yeah!" mused perk, unwilling to change the subject, it appeared, "an' the judge socked it to slim good an' heavy--give him a long sentence, so 'at he'll have to serve behind the walls o' that atlanta pen 'til he's an old, broken-down man, an' not marked dangerous to law-abidin' folks." "there are a few others of his stripe yet outside prison walls, remember, partner," jack told him, as they entered the eatingplace, walking over to a table somewhat aloof from all others, and on this account usually chosen for such meals as they took there; as they sometimes discussed their secret work while eating it was policy to keep clear from other diners, and at the same time lower their voices, since walls may have ears, and even hide dictaphones that record every spoken word. "yeou never said truer words, ole top," perk agreed in his odd fashion. "scofflaws aplenty to keep our crowd busy for years ahead. say, d'ye know i been readin' a heap 'bout a smart guy they say calls hisself king cole--seems like he got a hole in the wall 'way out in the wildest part o' the rockies, an' jest laughs at the boys from washington to size him up." "i recollect you talking of him more than a few times, perk; from which fact i had a hunch you might be wishing the chief'd turn over the assignment for apprehending him to our hands--is that correct, partner?" "don't care if i do have to acknowledge the corn, matey; someheow that dickey grabbed a stiff hold on my thinkin' box--why, onct i even dreamed we'd cornered him with his gay crowd, an' was commencin' to exchange shots with the bunch, when i woke up, an' felt too cheap for anything to know it was on'y hot air." jack laughed as he seated himself. "i remember how furious you were, and saying it was a shame to be cheated that way, eh, perk?" they gave their orders, and were presently partaking of what the waiter set before them; afterwards retiring, as though already knowing they would call should they require further service. this afforded perk another opportunity to "use his tongue," a vocation that gave him the utmost enjoyment. "jest occurred to me them paper accounts sez as haow his bees'-nest was located in a stretch 'tween two o' the highest mountain ranges in the hull country o' the rockies--called the secret settlement happy valley; which i opine sounds a right queer name for a den o' pizenous human snakes, sech as the law wants f'r 'bout ev'ry crime on the calendar." "no accounting for tastes, buddy," jack told him. "it might feel that way to men against whom the hand of every honest person was raised. most of his crowd, i read, was believed to be reckoned the scum of the earth, who were wanted for nearly every crime going--murderers, bank cashiers who'd robbed the institutions of which they had been the head; and all such black sheep, outlawed from decent society by their crimes and misdemeanors." perk grinned amiably, as though what his companion had just said made no difference to him--that he still wished from the bottom of his heart they were commissioned to undertake the dangerous task of breaking up the settlement in that so-called paradise of fugitives. "don't faize me any when yeou talk that way, boy," he told his companion, with one of his amused chuckles that seemed to come up from his toes, "the more stuff yeou gotter bump up agin the better i like it--cain't be too tough for a hill-billy like me--that's what they calls the boys daown in the ozarks, where i put in near a hull year huntin' precious stones in the earth, an' never findin' enuff to git me my grub. another o' them memories as comes along withaout warnin', to ha'nt me." "perk, you promised me once that some fine day you'd make a start at that memory book, covering all your activities since you were knee-high to a duck--i'm going to press you to really start in doing the job, perk; it will make a book well worth reading, if only half of all the adventures you've told me about are included. now, don't forget your promise, for i'll hold you to it the next layoff we have float our way." "i sure hate to do it, partner; but seein' i did give yeou my solemn word i s'pose i'll jest have to keep my promise; but it'll seem to me like a heap o' blarney an' boastin'. my loose tongue sure gets me into a nest o' scrapes, which ain't one bit pleasin' to sech a shy gink as me." ah! perk's eyes opened wider as he saw the other make a quick movement with his hand, as though suddenly remembering the mysterious letter thrust under the door of their room, and bearing that long blue stamp that signified special service, quick delivery to the person addressed. sure enough jack drew the missive out, and proceeded to cut the end of the envelope, using a table knife for the purpose. shooting a quick glance across the table in the direction of his chum, he smiled slightly, as though very well knowing how perk was eating his heart up with curiosity. perk stopped feeding, as his abstraction was so intense he hardly knew the way to his mouth--both eyes were glued on jack's face, as if he hoped to read the answer to the riddle there, a thing that had never as yet come within the scope of his knowledge, since jack could hide his emotions under an assumed indifference that baffled interpretation. it seemed that jack had read every word of the letter, although there were several enclosures yet to be gone over; however he appeared as if he had picked up certain intelligence of such a drastic character as to make him sit there mulling it all over, and possibly trying to dovetail things together. perk, poor fellow, could stand the awful suspense no longer. "well, ole scout, ain't yeou thinkin' 'baout lettin' me into the game--i somehaow take it fur granted there's news come 'long that's agoin' to start us off agin follerin' the air trails on the heels o' some skunks what got themselves outside the law. lay off, partner, an' gimme a run fur my money, won't yeou?" chapter v the cat is out of the bag jack looked at perk, and smiled. "i certainly must ask your pardon, old chap," he hastened to say; "for keeping you in the dark so long. fact is, what came to me in this letter gave me such food for thought i clean forgot you were my side partner, and entitled to my full confidence. forgive it, perk, wont you?" "sure thing, jack; then i kinder guess the letter must be from headquarters?" "no other, perk." "what's in the wind this time?" demanded the other, eagerly; as though his nostrils could already sniff the burnt powder that went with action. "that's a fair question, and i'll try to answer you," said jack. "it isn't the mere fact that we're ordered to duty once more, that i was thinking about just now, because such a thing comes along every once in so often in the exercise of our duties--but strangely enough our meeting up to-day with the family of a man we'd help put in jail doesn't seem to bring our queer list of coincidences to a halt." "hot-diggetty-dig! naow yeou got me a guessin' good an' hard, partner--go to it, an' explain what yeou mean." "well, it looks as if a wish you expressed only a short time ago was going to be fulfilled," jack told him. "haow come, buddy?" queried perk. "we were talking about a certain scoundrel who's name we've seen so often of late in the papers--remember, perk?" an expression of sublime delight passed over the face of gabe perkiser; showing how he understood, and what a sense of exhileration the knowledge afforded him. "kinder guess naow, jack, yeou might be meanin' that same ole king cole like he goes to call hisself--the brazen guy that makes all kinds o' fun o' secret service mokes--is _that_ the answer, brother?" jack nodded in a way that could have only one meaning. "okay, perk; you're on. "shake on that, young feller--it's the most glorious news i ever did get outen washington. if half what they says turns aout to be true, we're in fur the hot time o' aour life, seems like." "you never can tell, partner, which way the cat will jump--sometimes when you're expecting an easy windup things get mighty tough; then again if you're looking for a hard battle it sometimes turns out to be just a mere walkover--a flash in the pan. we have to take things as we find them, and let it go at that." "ole king cole sent aout his nasty defi to the hull secret service crowd, an' so far he's been able to give the boys the nasty grand laugh; but they say a pitcher may go to the well jest onct too many times--mebbe we might be the lucky ones to smash the same, pronto." "i've read that two different men of our staff have disappeared, after getting hot on the trail of this band of scoundrels; which goes to tell us they're a hard-boiled bunch, who wont stop at committing any crime so as to keep out of the pen." perk only grinned, as though the tougher they came the more he liked them. "that's all right jack, i'm best suited when they make 'em that way," he hastened to assure his chum; although really there was no need of his thus doing, since jack knew him like a book, with all his good qualities, and shortcomings as well. "are you through eating?" asked the other; and on receiving an affirmative nod he continued: "all right, suppose we adjourn to our room for a conference, where we can be dead certain of not being overheard. there are a few other things to tell that may open your eyes still further, as they did mine; besides, the big boss enclosed a few clippings, and typed reports, for us to study, as he believes they will give us some important clues that are going to be of considerable help in tracking these outlaws to their den." "gee whiz! things _do_ seem to be headin' aour way, don't they though, jack? yeou said there might be a sudden turn in the game, an' she sure enough did come hoppin' 'long, to make me laugh, an' feel so like singin'." "well, please don't start that racket here, partner; if ever they heard you singing they'd certainly put the bars against us; and we both like the chow in this same little restaurant, remember." "go easy on a feller whose education in music must a been neglected when he was a kid. an' jack, mebbe so yeou'll let me set my lamps on that ere document, onct we get indoors at aour quarters." "you're going to know everything that i do, perk; that goes without question; for how could we work together as a team if we pulled contrarywise?" leaving the eatinghouse they were soon back in their comfortable room, where they could take things easy while laying out plans for the near future. perk started his favorite pipe going, as though getting ready to be vastly entertained by what was in prospect; he always looked as though at peace with the whole world, even counting those who defied the law to keep them from doing whatever they pleased, however it might turn out for other people--such was the beneficial effects of tobacco on his system, for there were times when he could never be supremely happy until he got his pipe going full blast. "naow fur it, partner;" he opened up with, "i'm settled, an' ready to imbibe the hull kittin' story, with nawthin' bein' held back, like yeou promised me." "i'm meaning to read the letter to you first, and then later on you can pore over it yourself, making a mental photograph of the contents, so that every sentence can be recalled from memory upon occasion." this was the way jack generally arranged things, for he knew just how to work so as to get perk fully interested; and accustomed to the programme the other had never been known to take exception to jack's methods. "i get yeou, partner," was perk's comment; "it's part o' aour reg'lar programme to learn the big points o' aour job, so we aint agoin' to be rattled when we come to settle daown to work." "now fix your mind on what i'm going to read, and forget everything else but the one business we're being given to carry through." accordingly jack commenced, with perk occasionally asking some pertinent question, which was cheerfully answered by the reader. "now," observed jack later on, "we've covered much that the chief has had taken down by his stenographer; but the windup of the whole matter is the heart of the story; you want to hold your breath while i read it out to you, because, unless i miss my guess, you're in for the biggest shock of your life." "hot-diggetty-dig! that sounds right ser'us, partner, she shore do; but i'll stiffen aout, grip the sides o' my chair, an' gulp it all in like a thirsty broncho would fresh water after comin' in from the sandy desert. hit 'er up!" "listen then to what he writes here," jack was saying, soberly, yet keeping an eye on perk's tell-tale face, which he never could wholly control: "'the enclosed suggestions are clippings, and reports from some of our agents who had started out to track this ugly gang to its secret hideout. taken collectively and individually they will convince you as to the character of many of the knotty problems you will have to solve before success can be your reward in smashing this new king cole mob of law breakers, cattle thieves, bank robbers, and what-not along the line of up-to-date crime. "'so you will understand the magnitude of this business when i tell you it is not only suspected, but fully believed, this so-called king cole is an old offender, sailing under a new name--none other than a clever convict whose escape from the atlanta penitentiary some months ago has been purposely kept a state secret, in hopes of its being helpful in locating his whereabouts, and bringing him back to his empty cell, with the penalty of having his sentence lengthened on account of his flight--an arrangement that so far has not been in the least profitable or successful. "'you will understand what i mean when i tell you the name of this rascal, whom i remember you and your comrade had the high honor of bringing before the courts, and starting on the road to the government institution--it is'"--jack paused to watch perk's eager face, and then added with considerable force: "'it is slippery slim garrabrant!'" chapter vi laying plans "oh! my gosh!" so completely staggered did perk seem to have become at the disclosure made by jack, that he sat there, incapable of motion, just staring at his companion in the manner of a man who thinks he sees a hobgoblin. "slim--slim garrabrant!" he finally mustered up enough breath to almost whisper, looking a bit awed, jack thought. "no other, partner," his pal assured him, cheerfully. "you know how we were saying that sometimes this old world looked mighty small--well, this happens to be one of those times. take it as a matter of fact, perk--one of those quirks that roll around occasionally." "yeah--sure, that's right, jack--jest so--nawthin' awful strange 'bout him aturnin' aout to be the lucky dog as skipped aout o' the pen, giving uncle sam the laugh. go on an' tell me some more. kinder looks like we'd got to roll aour hoop up agin that smart aleck again, 'fore we get him caged for keeps." "well, i don't know about that, matey," jack told him, frowning as he spoke; "but if they _do_ get him back alive in his cell they'll keep closer tabs on slim, you can wager. but the devil of it is, can he ever be retaken? both of us have good reason to remember what a big job we had on our hands the other time; which isn't to be compared with what we'll stack up against now." perk had by this time succeeded in getting back his customary self reliance, when he would scoff at such a word as "can't." he screwed his face up in what evidently was intended to be a sneer, as he went on to say: "huh! that ere is the last thing to worry me, buddy. yeou an' me, guess we make a team not easy to beat. when we git started we'll jest give that gink a knock fur a goal, an' clinch the game for keeps. but like as not we orter be makin' up aour plans, hadn't we, jack?" "certainly," responded the other, calmly; "but first of all let it be distinctly understood in the beginning there's no need of any undue hurry." "course not," agreed perk, wagging his head in the affirmative, as was his usual habit when jack was laying down the law. "while of course we'll not loiter on the way," continued the head man of the combination; "just the same we must not do anything that's going to interfere with our customary efficiency--no going off at half-cock, like a gun that's in need of lock repairs." perk chuckled as if highly edified. "say, partner," he hastened to remark, "not much danger o' sech a thing happenin' with _yeou_ runnin' the lead, i give yeou my affidavy on that same." "that's all blarney, perk; and don't depend on my being free from stumbling in the dark--i'm only human, and can make silly mistakes, like every known pilot--even lindbergh's had the misfortune to smash his landing gear when making an ascent, and with the girl he afterwards married, remember." "sure thing, jack, but didn't he manage a wonderful landin', an' keep from a bad smashup, on'y hurtin' his shoulder in the jam?" "yes, and perk, some people attribute his escape to good luck; but i know full well it was his skill in understanding just what to do in an emergency." "well, what's aour programme agoin' to be?" demanded the other. "first of all, then, we've got to study those enclosures the chief sent in his letter--they'll give us a good many important points, and it may be locate this secret hideout of the crowd that's bothering uncle sam so much. get that, do you?" "i'm on, boss--go to it some more," replied perk, blithely. "as we shall be scouring one of the wildest and most dreaded parts of the whole rockies," continued jack, "of course it'll be necessary for us to carry a big cargo of stuff along--plenty of supplies in the line of grub, as well as gas and oil. then, since we are bound to line up, sooner or later, against the whole gang, we must tote tear-bombs, and some of the destructive ones, such as we've been forced to make use of before." "sounds okay to me, ole hoss," perk assented, looking particularly well pleased at the possibility of wild action, which these preliminary remarks of his leader seemed to presage--doubtless his wonderful memory carried him back to the previous occasion when they went out after slim garrabrant, and dragged him before the bar of justice, a feat which earned them the commendation of the big chief, as well as a nice step upwards in the way of increased pay. although in many things perk took no man's dust when it came to a knowledge of flying activities, and air knowledge; just the same he felt it no disgrace to "sit at the feet" of his best pal, and imbibe information when the plan of campaign was being laid out--perk freely admitted he was "not so good," along such lines--ready to shift the responsibility to jack's shoulders, yet joyfully bear his share of all subsequent action. the papers were divided up, and both of them read steadily for some time, occasionally exchanging observations, with perk asking frequent questions concerning matters that were not quite clear to his rather slow mind. in this fashion, just as wise jack knew would be the case, both of them gradually got "heated up," with the fervor of the case--indeed, this view of matters was also taken by his companion, since perk declared it made him think of how they used to get a tracking hound to smell some garment worn by the child that was lost, so he could take the trail, and follow it to a successful finish. "which i vum will be aour way o' clappin' hands on this slippery kiote, once we git agoin' strong," he went on to add, with supreme confidence, it appeared. "one thing we've got to remember," jack mentioned; "which is about keeping our light hidden under a bushel. men who follow our dangerous profession must never get themselves in the public prints if it can be avoided; and as for standing up to be in the spotlight, so all people can take note of their looks, it just isn't done, you know, perk." possibly there may have been occasions in the past when, after they had been unusually successful in landing their man, perk had shown a disposition to talk a bit too much--grant interviews to newspaper reporters, who were apt to go into details covering some of the ways such sleuths outwitted those whom they hunted; all of which was bad for their being successful in forthcoming missions of like character, since the lawbreakers would avidly seize upon all such printed matter, to size up the methods that were utilized in bringing about the downfall of men of their stamp. "yeah, course that's the right thing--we'll jest keep aour own counsel an' do the gittin' o' aour stuff together withaout beating the gong an' 'tractin' the mob's attention. we wouldn't live up to aour reputation as sleuth hounds if we didn't work undercover, jack." "fine for you, brother," he was told; "i'm tickled pink to know you're waking up to the necessity for secret service men keeping away from the glare of publicity, even if they have to lose much credit; like editors of the big newspapers, who never put even their initials to the strong articles they write everyday." in this fashion did jack usually apply himself to eradicating certain weaknesses that afflicted his best pal, knowing that in so doing he was helping perk to become more efficient; also more valuable in the service of the government. after some hours spent in this fashion, they found themselves pretty well inoculated with the most salient points connected with their latest task; and both of them were glad when it began to grow dark, with supper in prospect. "i rather think we're pretty well fed up on this stuff," jack finally took occasion to remark, getting up from his easy-chair, and stretching his cramped legs; "so how about dropping it all, and going out to feed our complaining tummies?" "i aint got any objections to that ere business, buddy," perk quickly observed, following suit in leaving his seat, and going through certain motions such as office sitters carry out in accordance with radio instructions each and every morning, before going forth to the daily grind. "they c'n boast all they likes 'bout the belles o' the ballroom; the sweet janglin' o' the bells in the spanish missions up 'long the coast here, an' even the never-to-be-forgotten schoolbell; but for _me_ they aint nawthin' to make my heart sing with joy like the good ole-fashioned dinnerbell." "you've got plenty of company in that same worship, perk," the other told him, "a few people eat to live; but the biggest bunch live to eat. let hard times come, and they'll do without a good many things, but must have three meals a day--yes, and with men, their regular smoke as well." after leaving their cozy room, to walk along the street, business was tabooed; they must forget such personal affairs, and talk of anything under the sun save what engrossed their minds chief of all. jack had stressed this point when laying down that rule for their guidance, saying practically as follows: "we don't understand as yet just what the ramifications or extent of this combination of lawbreakers is; for all we know they may be organized, and doing such a big business that they can employ spies in certain cities, to pick up valuable pointers; informing them of profitable strikes on western trails, and along railroads where treasure is being daily carried east and west; besides that, these spies would be on the watch to learn of plans for bringing members of the gang to justice--for all we know they have been keeping tabs on _our_ movements right along; and may be in possession of considerable knowledge covering our being the ones commissioned by headquarters to proceed against them. on this account it is up to us to play the innocent, and when in a public eating place never talk shop, especially if the room is full, as is always the case here at suppertime." there was always so much common sense in what jack advanced that perk could seldom grumble, no matter if he did not wholly agree with his partner. besides, there were so many interesting matters, as given out in the daily prints, and along the line of aviation stunts, that they need never lack for material to carry on their careless chatter as they dined, and watched their neighbors, after the usual manner of detectives on or off duty, seeking to further add to their information as to the possible presence of eavesdroppers. chapter vii ready for anything the following day was a busy one for the two pals. each had a regular programme to follow, jack having made out two lists of important things absolutely essential to the carrying out of their plans. as usually happened he left to perk the task of seeing that the ship was fully supplied with all the fuel and oil she was capable of carrying off in making an ascent; some of which could be stored in the wings, purposely provided with stowage room for such occasions. then when it came to taking aboard a stock of provisions, such as would not require cooking, trust perk for having a complete understanding as to these requirements--he possessed such a vast knowledge of what was good for a hungry man, not in a position to start a campfire, that when he put the last of their stock away aboard the plane it looked as if they might be getting ready to explore the arctic regions, where nothing but driftice was to be met, and no chance of having a fire either for cooking or comfort. jack, meanwhile did his part, making carefully arranged plans, with alternate makeshifts such as could be taken up in case unsurmountable obstacles baffled them in the one chosen for the start--with jack it was always part of his strategy to have several "strings to his bow," and never if possible "put all his eggs in one basket." when wearied after all the tramping he had done in accumulating such a vast pile of material, perk dropped down into a chair alongside his chum--who was still doing the finishing touch to his programme--he heaved a sigh as of contentment--as a rule perk was not a vigorous walker, preferring to go by airplane, motorcar, or bus; perhaps even by stage if necessary, so that such unusual exercise told heavily on his muscles. "get through with your list, partner?" queried jack, shoving aside his papers, as though he too had had quite enough of work for one day. "sure did, matey," came the satisfied reply; "we're done loaded up to the limit, an' then some. hope the ole gal don't fight shy o' liftin' sech a rummy cargo; but so far we aint never had her balk on us. how yeou gittin' on with things, jack?" "making good progress," came the steady answer. "i've learned that we've shouldered a whopping big job this time; and still things keep cropping up, that make it necessary to go back and change matters some. but i'll be in fine shape by tomorrow noon, i figure." "kinder reckon on makin' the jump then, air yeou, boss?" demanded perk. jack shook his head in the negative. "better wait up until night-time, buddy," he explained. "an ounce of prevention's always a heap better than a pound of cure, you remember. we can slip away a lot easier in the night, as we've proven more than a few times in the past. then besides, we'd like to profit by the latest weather report. if a wide storm threatened it would be good policy to hold back even for several days, rather than get caught in a hard blow; such things are said to be doubly tough amidst the mountain gorges and canyons, with their cranky air currents, and a continual danger of running smack into some high peak." "i leaves all that figgerin' to yeou, as usual, partner; when yeou gives the word, that's goin' to be the right time for us to climb, an' not afore. golly! but i'm as hungry as seven wolves all in one--hopes as haow they got steak an' fried onions on the bill o' fare tonight, 'cause my innards air jest a yellin' fur a mess o' my fav'rite chow." "i can't say i'm in the same box, because being shut up for hours, and badgering my poor brain with a hundred puzzling questions, isn't calculated to make a man ferociously hungry. you had outdoor exercise, and in consequence have built up a glorious appetite. queer what some fellows _will_ do so as to cater to their thirst or hunger." "naow whatever kin yeou mean by that same remark, jack, ole boy?" they were on their way along the street at the time, keeping step as they headed for the restaurant. jack seemed agreeable so far as explaining, for there was a little yarn back of his words, just as the astute perk had suspected, knowing his chum as well as he did. "this story was told to me long years ago, but i never think of it that i don't get a fresh laugh," jack was saying, chuckling as he spoke. "it seems a couple of artists who were fond of trout fishing were up in maine, stopping at a small hotel, while waiting for their guides to show up. "they noticed at breakfast several mornings that another party, small and dried up, but a fisherman to the tips of his fingers nevertheless, always ordered salt mackerel for his morning meal. this aroused their curiosity, so one day, after having a good confab with him on the prospect of sport ahead on the trip they had planned to take, one of the pair had the audacity to refer to the singular liking for such a dish evinced by the other. he grinned and looked wise, as he went on to say in reply, not taking the least offense over the matter as a personal one: "'oh! i aint carin' so much for the fish, gents, an' gets fed up on the same sometimes; but let me tell you, folks 'long 'bout ten o'clock every mornin' there comes the most delicious _thirst_ that pays up for my eating them salt fish.' think of him punishing himself so regularly, just to create a tremendous yearning for his favorite tipple." perk saw the point, and of course laughed quite vigorously. "hot-diggetty-dig! boy, hope i aint jest as bad as that same gent," he presently gurgled. "i c'n understand heow he felt though, an' she don't seem so derned queer to me after all." jack often managed to get off some such yarn when the necessity arose for keeping the talkative perk from "spilling the beans," as the latter himself would have explained it--perk was a rather simple minded fellow, taken in all, but a faithful and sincere chum, a ready worker, and as brave as they make them, even if a bit incautious, often to recklessness in his actions. it seemed as though there were more people dining that evening in the particular little restaurant than ever before: but joe had upturned two chairs at their favorite corner table, toward which jack led the way; so they were assured of comfort, even though late-comers were standing, awaiting their turn. both of them always made it a point never to dress in any fashion such as would be apt to give away the fact of their being airmen, or as having some connection with the following of aviators. this was done from a broad policy, founded on the fact that undoubtedly rumors of their calling might long ere this have posted criminal circles; and jack for one had no fancy about having gunmen dogging his steps, with murder in their hearts, because of the fact that this pair of "birds" had been chiefly instrumental in sending some pal, or brother, to the "big house" for a long stay, or it might be to the chair to atone for his crimes. jack always sat so he could look in careless fashion around the room. his manner was that of a social fellow, taking an inventory of the diners, as though wondering if he could single out some crony. there was nothing of the "eagle eye that could look into a man's very soul, and read his hidden thoughts," as usually connected with the mystery story, or stage detective--not about jack, or for that matter perk either--so far as outward appearances went they were only a couple of goodnatured young men, smiling and agreeable, enjoying their meal, and chatting about the latest stirring events of the day in the field of sports, possibly also interested in political matters, as would be natural. perk always declared he felt as though he had put on a mask, when thus debarred from "talking shop," with curious ears so close by; but he realized the necessity for such extreme caution, when they were always pitted against the desperadoes of the underworld in their daily work. "somethin' o' a mob here tonight, partner?" suggested perk, after they had been served by joe, the waiter, and taken the edge off their appetites; both having settled on the same aromatic dish, which perk was savagely attacking. "looks that way, perk; if this keeps on we'll have to find another place to feed, when we strike san diego again; since neither of us is partial to crowds. remember the old frontiersman who complained that the neighborhood was getting too thickly settled for him and his folks, because a new family had started to build a log cabin less than _seven miles away_? people look at what makes a crowd with different viewpoints, we have to remember; what is flesh to one is just poison to another man." "huh! never heard tell o' that idear 'fore," confessed the interested perk; "but it rings like there might be somethin' in the same. see anybody yeou happens to know 'round here partner?" "not one that i would be apt to speak to," jack told him; "of course we see some of them each night; but they've paid no attention to us, for which we're only too glad; doesn't pay to pick up chance acquaintances at haphazard, when you happen to be engaged in a certain type of business. if you reckon you've attended to that vacuum downstairs we might as well be moving out, and give some of the standup people a chance at this table." "let's get goin' then," agreed perk, pushing back his chair; which action caused several groups of impatient waiting persons to start toward the spot, so as to preempt the vacant table. "show tonight, jack?" queried the satisfied perk, as they moved along. "i ought to get busy once more on my stuff, as my programme isn't at all complete; but just the same i don't want to overdo such brain fatiguing work, and have to lay off a spell--nothing to be gained by such corrupt practices, i imagine. so, since i know you feel as if you'd like to see something, to take your mind off business for one night, decide on where you want to go, and we'll be off." "course i'm not really dead set on seeing any picture," apologized perk; "but chances are we aint agoin' to have another whiff o' a screen drama for days and days; an' it'll fill in time, as well as freshenin' up yeour mind more'r less, buddy." what they saw and heard does not concern us in following up this, their latest exploit; but evidently perk fully enjoyed the night's entertainment, since he seemed to be in a jovial state of mind all the way back to their sleeping quarters. their ship was quartered close to a well known aviation field, where air mail was coming and going at all hours of the day and night; as well as privately owned planes of the very latest design, some of them wonderful craft in which daring adventurers could seek out the utmost parts of the earth, backed of course, by an abundance of necessary funds. they were not known under their real names to any of those who from time to time they chanced to meet and chat with. it was generally understood however, that jack was the son of a wealthy family in the south--new orleans to be specific; and had come from candler field in atlanta, with his companion as assistant pilot. moreover they were believed to be waiting for certain things to transpire, after which they meant to take an extended jaunt down through south america, over the andes, and the vast wilderness of the amazon valley, with its tributaries, engaged in collecting myriads of wonderful orchids, said to have their _habitat_ in that torrid region. thus no one had bothered them to any extent--at least not thus far; realizing that the young explorer expressed a dislike about creeping into print, and having his plans broadcast, so that perhaps some rival plant hunter might "slip one over" and beat him to the much prized field. they came and went, as they pleased in their boat, making sure never to leave the slightest evidence of their true calling lying around, which would be apt to "lift the lid," and give them away. when perk that very day was so busily engaged loading up, it was all in line with their pretended objective; entering into the spirit of the great game of "pulling the wool over the eyes" of curious fellow aviators, perk took delight in concocting an extravagant yarn, depicting some of the possible adventures he anticipated running across down in the countries of south america--brazil, the orinoco river forest lands, peru, chili and the argentine--enough to make them envy his good fortune, when tough luck bound them in fetters along the line of their more prosaic jobs. jack was indeed through with the last item on his lists by noon of the following day; but adhered to his expressed policy of holding back their launching until night came on. perk, however, made a last visit to the hangar in which their beautiful ship lay quartered, to make doubly certain he had omitted absolutely nothing that could add to their comfort--and safety. chapter viii the winged messenger "coast seems to be clear, eh, jack?" perk asked this question as they reentered their room, after having come back from supper. "looks that way, as far as i can see," replied his shipmate, throwing himself down in an easy-chair, that seemed to invite attention. "no signs o' aour bein' spied on so far," asserted perk, boldly. "i saw nothing that looked suspicious, partner," continued the other. "kinder had an idee that lanky goof at the table 'gainst the wall kept lookin' aour way, like he had a suspicion we'd bear watchin'--did yeou happen to notice him, buddy--queer squint to one o' his lamps, an' a turrible long nose that made me think it jest longed to stick itself in other folks' business." jack laughed as if highly amused. "so you reckoned he was some interested in us, did you, perk? well, he had a right to be, i'd say, if you asked me." "what's that, partner?" asked the stouter member of the crew of the flying ship that was working for uncle sam's law and order department. "why, he knew just who we were, and why we chanced to be in old san diego right now--get that straight, perk." "yeou're kiddin' me, jack," whined perk, looking hurt. "i repeat what i said; and to make it plainer i'm adding further that man you mention not only knew us for what we are, but also why we were whispering across our table so much, when certain things came up that had to be discussed, even against our general rule never to talk shop when in public." "the devil he did!" ejaculated the astounded perk; "then why did yeou jest say there didn't seem to be any spy a hangin' 'round on our tail, to put them critters wise to our headin' thataways--tell me that, mister?" "ask me a hard one, brother," jack flashed back, still amused it could be easily seen. "i'll go a step further, and say that he was tempted to speak to us, perhaps even join us at our table; but one thing kept him from doing so, which was the iron-bound rule that one agent of uncle sam must never thrust himself into any game that is being conducted by another of the brotherhood." perk drew in a long breath, and stared at his comrade. "meanin', i kinder guess, as heow that party might be in the secret service like we air--does that fill the bill, jack?" "just what it does," he was told straight from the shoulder. "then--yeou _know_ him, i'm understandin' boy?" "i most certainly do, perk--you've heard of him many a time too, even if you've probably never happened to run across him. that man's one of the smartest detectives in the whole shooting match--his name, son, is josiah harper, sometimes called the hawk on account of his long beak, and the fact that he possesses abnormal eyesight." perk grinned as if relieved. "so, that's the wonderful hawk, is it, partner?" he was saying, as if he found it difficult to grasp the fact. "no, i never did run acrost him so far's i know. what in tarnation kin _he_ be doin' out this way--yeou don't figger he's goin' to butt in on aour job, do yeou?" "hardly that, perk, i should say; if he was we'd have been piped off to that effect. i reckon he had orders to run over to san diego to catch us before we took off." "does that mean he might be fetchin' a last hour message, jack?" "i figured that way," came the ready answer; "and following you across the room i managed to rub up against harper, to have a small slip of paper pushed into my waiting hand. here it is, and we'll see what it carries--some last hour report, i fancy, that the chief believes will come in handy, sooner or later." "well, i swan!" gasped perk, evidently considerably tickled over the clever work carried through by his companion, without any diner in the restaurant being the wiser, so far as they knew. for several minutes jack appeared to be studying the writing on the crumpled piece of rice paper he had drawn from his vest pocket and straightened out. no wonder, when the writing seemed just a crazy mess of words, and figures--undoubtedly a secret cipher used by the agents in their particular branch of the government service, when occasion arose to communicate with each other. jack was so proficient in the cipher writing that he could read it readily without applying the key; in this case he evidently was weighing each terse paragraph as he translated the same. "some important, i takes it, buddy?" observed perk, who had watched the other nodding his head as he perused the message. "very, if we happen to be lucky enough to get close to the hideout of the gang. this little scrap of paper has a history, perk. it was carried from the mountains where this crowd hold out, to los angeles by a feathered post." "i doan't jest get yeou, partner--what's a feathered post--i never yet seen anything like that--yeou got me sunk, jack, boy." "you know what a carrier pigeon is, of course, perk--well, one of the two agents who were sent out on this case several months ago conceived the bright idea of carrying a bird with him. just as he feared might be the case they were eventually discovered, and brought to bay in a rocky canyon--the men wolves had them bottled up, so they must either surrender and take the consequences, or perish of hunger and thirst. he wrote this message in code on this thin tissue paper, fastened it under the wing of his bird, and tossed the pigeon up in the air. it may have been fired at, but since it showed up at its home cote in angeles it escaped being killed, or even crippled." "great work that, partner," snapped the intensely interested perk; "i shore takes off my hat to the lad who could think up sech a neat dodge. an' right there clost to the tigers' den he could set daown an' write a 'portant message in code, so's to send off his little birdie. that's a new trick on me, i own up--a stunt worth while." jack went on to interpret the contents of the little missive that had been carried all the way from the heart of the mountains. perk listened as if bent on letting each and every word sink deeply into his receptive mind for future use. "them ere directions for locatin' the place where they foregather, is shore valuable stuff fur aour crowd, jack, ole hoss," he finally remarked, after his chum had read the writing on the thin paper twice, putting due emphasis on certain words that had an apparently significant meaning. "particularly perk, that part describing a splendid landing-field some miles distant, where we could drop down safely, and without getting close enough to the haunt for sharp ears to catch the noise of a ship's exhaust." "wust thing 'bout human bloodhounds huntin' their prey in a bus--never will seem right to me 'til they fix things so's we kin creep up on aour prey without tellin' the hull world a airplane is somewhere 'round. think that happy day ever will come, jack?" "sure it will, perk, and we'll see it to--if it so happens we haven't already crashed, and gone west. why not, when such wonderful advances are being made in aviation circles every moon. right now we're doing a lot of amazing stunts with our ships that were never dreamed of five years ago. anything is possible, now they've got started taking to the air." "huh! it was time all right," grunted perk; "when yeou see haow all the highways air gettin' glutted with autos, 'specially clost to big cities. even san diego folks find it hard to git 'round on sundays an' holidays. but this fresh happenin' sorter gives me a hunch we're agoin' to make the ripple, an' fetch home the bacon after all--things they air all workin' thataways." "i had the last word from the weather man," jack went on to add; "and i'm sorry to say it wasn't quite as fine as i'd like." "storm agoin' to hold us up, mebbe naow, partner?" suggested perk, with one of his impatient frowns, as he disliked very much being balked in any plan. "n--no, not quite that bad; but there are reports of a nasty field of fog gathering in the direction of the mountains far back from the coast; but we'll have to take our chances, now we're fixed for the jump--it may not turn out as bad as they reckon on. let's get ready to slip off, perk." chapter ix headed for trouble an hour later the two adventurers arrived at the san diego aviation grounds, having taken a taxi to carry them and their limited luggage. the night was a fine one, so far as the star-studded heavens could be taken as an indication. if there was fog gathering some hundreds of miles distant along the route of the air mail course, no indication of such worry to the pilot's peace of mind had reached this coastal station. "goin' to have a right decent start, looks like," perk mentioned, after they had dismissed the taxi close to the isolated hangar just outside the aviation field limits. "i expected we'd have it clear as a bell," jack told him, as he unlocked the doors of the hangar; "just as well that we don't have our troubles strike us before we even hit our pace--time enough for all that when we get well on our way." as jack had anticipated there was light aplenty for their purpose; ships were coming and going at this early time in the evening, so that the field lights were all on, making it easy to see. secrecy was such a part of their business that they did not even have hostlers present to help push their bus out to the runway--it would not be the first occasion when these two energetic fellows had managed all such things by themselves. they did not loiter, now that the final take-off was at hand; jack was a little afraid lest some mechanic, or pilot, hearing them working, and being more or less curious concerning the pair who owned the trim aircraft in which they had been taking trips for weeks past, (and about whom a halo of mystery hovered) might come nosing around, offering to lend a hand, but really hoping to pick up a few words that would explain their leaving under cover of night--honest to goodness sportsmen, going off for a hunt, or a fishing jaunt to the mountains, would not be apt to time their departure while the world was smothered in darkness. they were now poised on the short runway, and ready to start off. perk had followed his mate aboard, and was already busying himself with certain preliminary duties that always fell to his charge. "ready, all?" called out jack. "give her the gun, partner!" replied perk. there was a sudden roar as the engine took the spark, a quiver of the entire craft, and then a quick jerk as jack moved the throttle toward his chest. down the slight slope they started, gathering more headway with every second until the ship was bumping rapidly over the ground, her skid already beginning to scorn the soil as if eager to take to the air. then her nose being pointed upwards she began to rise like a bird, passing well over the trees that stood at the end of the course. they were off on their momentous and perilous mission; only fate knew what the result would prove to be; whether success awaited them, or failure, perhaps even death; for they were bound on an errand to a country where the majesty of the law was scorned, where might meant right, and men did not place much value on a human life, more or less. to see how joyous perk seemed to be no one would imagine he gave much heed to the prospect of thrilling episodes that would threaten them as soon as they entered the danger zone. but then that was the way with perk, who loved adventure and close calls, and was never happier than when defying the power of lawless men, badly wanted by those higher-ups in charge of the famous secret service. the lighted aviation field was quickly left far behind, as jack headed into the northeast, with the intention of holding to the beacon-lighted trail of the air mail up to a certain point; when they must abandon those welcome markers that flashed their intelligence every ten seconds, and were so useful for keeping the mail carriers on their proper course. like most up-to-date pilots jack and his mate had supplied themselves with the handy ear-phones, by adjusting which to their heads they could communicate in a satisfactory fashion when it became necessary. but for this wise preparedness they would have had to shout at the top of their lungs in order to pass a few words back and forth--a most unsatisfactory way of doing, as every pilot has found out in times gone by, when there was no other method known. for a full hour they kept on their way persistently following the air mail route. it was exceedingly refreshing to be able to note as many as three flashing beacons at the same time, from the four thousand foot ceiling at which jack was flying, the further one rather dim, it is true; but strong enough to catch the watchful eye of the pilot. perk had kept "bottled up" as long as he could stand it, and now broke out as if eager to ask some sort of question that was on his mind. under such conditions it was his usual way to gradually approach the matter by jerks. "huh! pretty soft i'd call it, partner, if yeou troubled to ask me," he observed as an opener. "as what?" demanded jack, tersely. "the job o' bein' an air mail runner--everything fixed for 'em so's they kin keep on the right track--who'd lose his way with them friendly flash-light beacons apoppin' up ev'ry ten miles'r so, i want to know?" "you're away off your reckoning when you say that, perk; remember how they've got to meet up with tough storms; and pea soup fogs you could cut with a knife, they're so thick. and in parts of their run the country is treacherous, with slants of wind breaking out of deep canyons; then, too, if anything goes wrong aboard their boat to make a safe landing on such rocky ground is full of all kinds of difficulties. no, the air mail pilot doesn't have such a sweet time of it as you seem to think--a night like this he can consider a peach; only there are not many built that way. you know they lots of times insist on starting out when a wheen of pilots would stay safe on the ground, and not take desperate chances." "partner, yeou'll have to excuse haste an' a bad pen, as the pig said after breaking out, and skippin' off on a full run. that time i shore didn't count ten 'fore i broke loose. guess naow all pilots git up agin hard fixes onct in a while, where the finest flash beacons in the hull world caint help 'em any. i kin understand haow it aint possible to lamp them lights atall through a thick fog--on'y by the altitude marker kin yeou tell if youre aflying sky high, or near scraping the ground. but did yeou happen to hear a ship takin' off jest after we slid aout, boss?" "yes, but that didn't give me any concern, perk. no danger of it's being any spy interested in following _us_." "but jest the same, jack, she's been keepin' on aour tail right along," protested the watchful one, as if he might have been worried a bit. "why not, when like as not the pilot is carrying the u. s. mail, and on his reg'lar night run north. we happen to be making use of his lights, that's all; and he's attending to his usual business. when we sheer off to the east soon now, leaving these flashlights behind, _then_ if you discover a ship following after us it'll be time to do something, not before." "thanks, partner; jest thought i had orter tell yeou, that's all," and with that perk lapsed into silence again, having worked his mind clear once more. further time passed. they had covered some hundreds of miles since leaving san diego, and jack, watching his map understood the time was close at hand for him to alter his course, and turn sharply toward the east, while the lighted mail line of travel continued northward. ten minutes afterwards and perk again broke out. "i kin see the fust wisps o' that ere fog yeou was a tellin' 'baout, boss," he announced grimly, as though appreciating the flashing beacons more than before, now that they were about at the end of their string, with the whole world of mountainous ground facing them, so full of hidden snares and pitfalls, not to mention human tigers with a fierce vendetta against all those busybodies of their particular breed. "that's interesting news, but not so delightful, perk, since i'm just going to switch, and head into the east." chapter x battling with the fog thanks to his carefully studied chart jack knew just about when he must head into the east, and make for the disputed land, where fugitives from justice had long kept away from the long arm of the law. in former days there had been just such a safe hiding-place further to the north, locally known as the "hole in the wall;" but it was of the past, and for some years had been thrown open to settlers and tourists. the die was cast, and for better or worse they had made their decision; but neither of them had any disposition to turn back. danger and these men of the force were accustomed to being familiar campmates; since there was no mission on which they could be sent but had its share of peril; if such expeditions were but picnics it would not be so necessary to dispatch the prize men of the service on the track, where others had failed after shooting their bolt. speedily were they swallowed up in the night. far distant, and in the east a mellow light low-down announced the rising of the moon, now far advanced in its last quarter. jack did not count for any assistance in the rising of the uncrowned queen of the night, since already he could see the gathering fog was growing thicker every passing minute. several times he lost the remnant of moon entirely, to have it creep into view again, as though the thick vapor had temporarily opened up; but only to close in again worse than ever, until the glimpse of the climbing orb came no more. thus began their fight with the fog--its insidious influence seemed to shut them in like an opaque curtain, growing more and more dense as the minutes moved along. realizing that they were now heading into that stretch where they might expect to meet with lofty mountain peaks, and crags, jack began a steady upward climb, being most desirous of taking no unnecessary chances of crashing against a rock cliff that was hidden from their view by the creeping fog. it seemed to be a most extraordinary fog, all told, perk explained to his own satisfaction. usually when thus compassed around about by a dense sea of vapor, and unable to take any sort of reckoning by means of the heavens above, or the earth beneath, this trouble could be remedied by climbing still further into the region of the clouds, and thus finding an altitude where the air was sweet and pure, even if a bit shivery. apparently that was not going to answer in the present case. jack had ascended until they were already some eight thousand feet from the earth; but if anything their enemy the fog appeared to be more dense than ever. in fact, it did not seem worth while to pursue this system of tactics any further, in order to beat the enshrouding blanket of sticky wetness--why, if they kept on much longer, the cold increasing the higher they lifted their ship, that same dripping moisture would be turning into _ice_, and the additional weight was apt to play havoc all around. "don't seem to be any let-up to the derned stuff, jack," perk at this time observed in the ear of his running mate. "bad medicine, all right--don't like it one bit, partner," came just the answer perk would have sworn his pal would make. "seems like there aint nawthin' we kin do to make things easier, eh, buddy?" "must peg away, keeping our nose pointed east, and ready to drop down lower if given half a show," was how the head pilot answered him. "yeah! don't 'pear to be anythin' else in sight, an' its sure gettin' mighty cold 'raound these diggin's, boy. i'm agoin' to drag aout my heavy fleece-lined coat, an' climb into the same jest for fun." "go to it, old chap; and after you're settled give me a chance to follow through, since i'm beginning to shiver as if i had the ague. this cold of the upper air currents is a heap worse than any we run into on the ground--seems to go all through you like a knife. phew!" apparently jack was not yet satisfied to drop lower; he would give their present altitude a little more chance to show what it could do in pressing the beastly fog down in the direction of the earth. "thunder an' mars! aint it awful thick, though?" perk was telling himself, as he rubbed the glass, and did his best to pierce the miserable stuff by which they were thus bound, so they had no power to break loose. "don't b'lieve i ever did see such a mess in all my days. talk 'bout flyin' blind, if we aint adoin' that same right naow i'll eat my hat!" flying blind--yes, that name seemed most appropriate. perk could look away back to his childhood, and see the boys and girls playing--himself with a handkerchief over his eyes, and trying to grope his way around so as to lay hold of the active dodgers who slipped out of his grip so adroitly. but he also remembered, with a chuckle, how as a rule it was always possible for the bandage to be lifted just a little, allowing the chaser slight glimpses of those whom he was supposed to trap, and catch hold of. "huh! no sech luck in this here game up 'bove the clouds," perk grumbled, as if much provoked because there was no chance to "peep"--that pea-soup sea covering so many miles in every direction was absolutely impenetrable; and their only resource would be to depend on their reliable instruments; keep their wits about them, so as to know how far they were going in a certain direction; and when relief came be able to about pick their position on the map. that was supposed to be jack's affair, and perk felt quite willing to trust his side partner to the limit; whatever jack decided on he was ready to make unanimous, and let it go at that; so why worry his poor brain when his pal was so much better equipped for handling things? still, he _did_ worry--it would not have been perk otherwise; for he found all manner of grewsome possibilities crowding into his mind such as must give him what he called "the willies." "hot-diggetty-dig!" he grumbled to himself "but this _is_ a nasty mixup we've tumbled into. jack, he says to me the weather reports tell haow there seems to be a bit of fog aformin' off to the mountings--say, if they calls this a _bit_ i wonder what a real smashin' big fog'd seem like. from the way she acts i'm commencin' to figger as haow she could keep this way right along fur a hull day'nd night, withaout fazin' any; an' that's no bunk either. s'pose it does that same, what's bound to happen to us dicks runnin' wild up here, i want to know?" that was always perk's trouble--anticipating things long before they were really due. he even figured out how, with gas and supplies running low, in the end they might have to make a perilous forced landing, taking most desperate chances of a calamitous smash. it kept him on "needles and pins" to have such a dire threat loom up so soon after their takeoff, with the work connected with their mission entirely in the future, and unaccomplished. how the minutes did seem to drag when they were pretty much in the dark as to the progress their ship was making; or whether they had managed to hold on to the course set by jack in the beginning. "huh! it's like gropin' 'raound yeour bedroom in the pitch dark, when wakin' up from a bad dream--kinder lose yeour head, an' get sorter nutty in the bargain. mebbe we're miles an' miles eouten the way, even gettin' wuss rattled right along; but say, that aint like my partner, to lose his head, an' run us into a blind sack. i jest _got_ to depend on jack to pull us through--aint i seen him come eout right-side up heaps o' times when things they had an _aw_ful black look?" taking himself to task after this fashion perk rose up out of his state of despondency, and actually forced himself to chuckle, as if things looked perfectly all right in his eyes; but there was something lacking in the sound, something superficial, and his seeming hilarity did not last long. thus it happened that once, when jack, believing they were attaining too great altitude, took a slide down, shutting off the power; perk felt positive he again caught a sound from somewhere that must certainly have come from the exhaust of an airship motor, running at full speed! the thought gave him a momentary thrill, it seemed so pregnant of accumulating possibilities in the line of hazards; his old fear lest they should have been surreptitiously followed by some secret enemy, in the shape of an ally of the men they sought to run down, returned in full force, to stab him most viciously. chapter xi the mystery airship "i say, jack!" perk called, making use of the friendly ear-phones. "what's eating you, buddy?" demanded the other, who must have known from his comrade's shifting about so much there was something amiss. "did yeou hear it?" asked perk, anxiously. "you mean that sound in the fog pack, don't you?" jack countered. "yeah, yeou said it, partner--i kinder guess naow it was a ship up here in this same sea we're buzzin' through, don't yeou?" "couldn't be anything else, because we're thousands of feet away from ground," jack admitted; and somehow it gave his chum a feeling of relief to notice how his voice showed no signs of sudden alarm. "as haow would yeou make it eout to be--some bewildered air-mail pilot loose in his bearin's, and shootin' ahead, thinkin' he could get somewhere right speedy, so's to find his course agin?" "not any, perk; and you'll realize that much if you figure things out in a matter-of-fact way. they don't have greenhorns in the air-mail service, or carrying passengers on the big lines--every applicant for a job has got to have a thousand hours at least in the air, and even at that he isn't reckoned to have won his spurs. if such an experienced flier got balled up in this fog blanket he'd do just what we're carrying out--depend utterly on his instruments. his compass would tell him he could never regain his course by flying _due east_!" "that's what he's adoin' then, yeou figger, eh, jack?" "sure thing, boy--he's directly behind us, and getting closer right along, for the sounds keep growing louder." "guess that's so, partner--i kinder had an idee he was on aour tail. what's the answer, jack?" "another dive, maybe two in fact, so as to leave him this ceiling to himself. we can climb again, buddy, after he's passed us, and pushes further on his way. that's the only sensible thing to do." perk had been allowing his mind to picture a battle royal up there in cloudland, amidst the fog mists, where machine-guns might rattle just as years ago they always did when bitter foes over on the french border came in contact, while bent on forays that took them on long air voyages, to bomb forbidding ammunition dumps, and thickly manned trenches back of no man's land. in imagination he had already heard the terrible long roll being sounded by the chattering quick-firing guns; with a hail of missiles sweeping all around them, like a swarm of enraged hornets as experienced in his own boyhood days. but jack, who kept his imagination under better control, did not look at things in the same way--his idea was not to accept the gage of battle when diplomacy and clever tactics could shift it on to some future date, when the chances might be more in their favor. what a partner to have at your side when things looked more or less dubious--perk drew a long breath as of relief, and inwardly blessed the day he paired up with jack ralston. there, once more they were shooting almost straight down into that bewildering sea of fog. it could not but give even seasoned perk the thrill of his life, as he contemplated what would happen should they dash against some isolated mountain crag or peak, while rushing along at this tremendous speed. he held his breath during the score of seconds they occupied in thus seeking another ceiling. then the quivering ship, under jack's skillful guidance, glided into a level course, and perk breathed naturally once more. while the swift descent continued he had listened intently, and was overjoyed to note how the distinct clamor of the other plane's motor gradually grew fainter, thus proving that they must be increasing the distance separating the two hidden airships. jack, one eye on his altitude instrument, even brought about another dip, during which perk failed to catch even the faintest mutter of a working motor; which fact seemed to prove beyond dispute their object had been achieved--the unseen flying craft had been given all rights to that upper ceiling, and all danger of a chance collision in the sky lanes was avoided, at least for the time being. they were still heading into the east, with a shade running toward northeast, as though jack continued to hold fast to his belief they were following the proper course. it required the most wonderful grasp upon the situation, as perk well knew, to keep going so confidently through such an ocean of dense fog, utterly unable to see any obstacle threatening them ahead. perk, absolutely content to leave all matters of this sort in the hands of the partner who had never as yet failed him in a pinch, found himself wondering what that decision, given so assuredly by his companion, might signify--if not a lost air-mail pilot, then who could the unknown voyager, shooting so recklessly through the pea-soup sea, be? they were again ascending, proving that jack understood what additional chances for a mishap they were tempting at the lower level, and wished to play safe as soon as he could do so with the unknown ship having passed on into the unseen vacuum ahead. again did the temperature approach close to the freezing point, and no wonder, with their ship soaring at such a height; but in that part of the mountainous country they must expect to find lofty uplifts mounting to the clouds, many thousands of feet above all comfortable atmosphere. perk busied himself in moving around, following such duties as devolved on his shoulders while his partner handled the stick. his chief concern lay in the direction of finding out just when the dense vapor began to form a thin coating of ice on the wings. with the coming of such an insidious enemy their danger increased ten-fold, since by degrees it would add enough weight to the already heavily laden ship as to force it down all too speedily, with what hidden perils lying in wait below as only a lively imagination could vision. still that question remained unanswered--try as he might perk seemed unable to successfully grapple with so puzzling and knotty a problem--if not a mail pilot off his course, nor yet some enemy trying to overtake, and run them down in midair, then who could it be? with perk bewildered the matter must inevitably settle down to one well practiced means for finding the answer to the enigma--"ask jack--he knows"--a formula as simple as anything could be, also shifting all responsibility to other shoulders. perk went at it again, and asked for light. "mebbe naow, partner," he called out, "it might be yeou guessed this crazy flier up yonder was some madcap pilot atryin' to beat the record goin' east from coast to coast; or else a locoed lad carryin' a passenger who'd lose his hull fortune if so be he didn't land in wall street inside so many hours." jack laughed, as though amused at these vague stabs--he knew what the other had in his mind by going on in this fashion. "just fishing again, eh, perk--want to know what i think covering the game, isn't that so? well, listen, and i'll put a flea in your ear." "go to it, partner--i'm agreeable, an' wantin' to be informed," perk hastened to say. "among those documents i examined there was one fact i laid some stress on, which consisted of a statement that the secret service man who sent his report in, and then seemed to disappear utterly from the knowledge of all men, declared it to be his opinion these hideout big guns in the criminal world, working under our old friend slippery slim garrabrant, had some sort of an _airship_, with which they were doing a rattling good business--perhaps you slipped up on that particular fact; but i figured we might run across that plane, sooner or later, and have considerable bother with the same." "hot-diggetty-dig! then jack, you mean it could a been that crate we heard abeatin' time on aour tail; an' mebbe chasin' us like hot beans--tell me, is that what hits you so hard, matey?" "i have a pretty strong idea it was their ship, covering a well-known course from the coast to this valley in the rocky unknown territory too rough even to have been explored, as it was believed to be worthless for even mining purposes. as to whether those aboard were trying to strike us in the fog, that's still a mystery, and must remain such for the present." "then do yeou guess they knowed we was ahead on the same track, eh, jack, ole hoss?" "remember perk, that as far as we know they didn't change their ceiling at any time--just kept booming away at the same level. that being the case they couldn't have heard the sound of our own motor working, as their exhaust would deafen them completely; for we only caught the racket behind us when we were shooting the shoot, with our engine shut-off." "good enough for us, buddy--then we got a clear field ahead, an' c'n foller aour own plans right along." "for the time being; but don't forget we've got rough sledding ahead. it all depends on how long we'll be held fast in the grip of this accursed fog pack. running blind isn't a very satisfactory way of getting along, especially when you only know the country through rude charts that may be all right, and then again sprinkled with errors that are bound to be full of danger to us." "hit an' miss, jack, we're used to takin' the chances--it's all a part o' the followin' we're rappin' in. we jest got to do aour best, an' leave the rest--aint i been adoin' that same mighty near all my whole life? an' seems like little ole perk he's still on deck, able to eat his three good meals a day--whenever he c'n git the same." "it's after midnight, perk." "so it be, partner; an' we muster gone a good many hundred miles since jumpin' off--strikes me we orter be clost to the goal we had in aour minds; if so be we been keepin' on a di-reck course, with no wabblin' to check us aout." "i figure that way myself," replied jack; "but nothing can be done to make certain until conditions change for the better." "which would mean we got some hours to kill, 'fore mornin' comes along to give us a show fur aour money, eh, jack, ole boy?" "there's only one way to do that," snapped the other; "which is by circling around, keeping our altitude, and within a range of say fifty miles; and that's what i'm aiming to start doing right now." chapter xii when the dawn broke when jack thus decided it good policy to start riding that gigantic circle, reducing their speed at the same time, he knew it was really the only course left to them in order to kill time, until there arose a change in weather conditions, and the coming of daylight. it would require the utmost skill and vigilance combined, thus to keep going over about the same line of travel, with naught to depend upon save his reliable instruments, aided by the deductions he must be continually making, with his eyes on the compass, the speed indicator, altimeter, and kindred apparatus by means of which, in conjunction, a clever pilot may cut circles around an objective at will. all this when he has daylight to assist him, and can see the distant ground beneath; but when blinded by both fog and intense darkness it is "a horse of another color" entirely, and if successfully carried out may be considered on a par with a near-miracle. "he c'n do it, if anybody's able," faithful perk was assuring himself, as he sat and watched the other go through with motion after motion, doubtless mentally figuring up knotty little problems in arithmetic that would either prove the accuracy of his general plan of campaign, or cause him to correct any faulty upsets. "gee whiz! if on'y we could a climbed on that gink's tail, an' follered him to where he was agoin', what a soft snap it'd been," perk was telling himself, as he imagined them climbing back to the level followed by the "mystery ship," and keeping on at just a certain distance, where their presence would not be betrayed by the commotion they caused; "but it's a hull lot too late neow to think o' tryin' that ere stunt aout; so what's the use figgerin' any more? 'sides, they aint no chanct for even a pilot what knows his beans 'raound this pesky country, to drop daown, so long's this soup hangs over aour heads, under aour feet, an' plays the devil with things gen'rally. jack's got it all laid aout, an' we're on aour way to pike's peak--er bust--mebbe so its jest plain _bust_!" as the time drew on perk found himself engaged in a peculiar game of guessing as to what the character of the ground below would turn out to be when they were given a blessed chance to view the same by the dispersal of the fog, and the coming of broad daylight. he knew what it meant to be hovering over mountainous country, where all manner of weird canyons and dry water courses could be traced on the rough landscape--secluded haunt of the rocky mountain sheep, or big-horn; the savage silver-tip bear known also as the grizzly, most dreaded wild beast of the entire americas, the claws of whom the indians of the west always prized as mementos of their individual valor, when slain at close quarters, with the warrior living to tell the story of his triumph. then, too, he could imagine vast herds of the now almost extinct buffalo, seeking shelter and grazing during the winter in some sheltered valley among these same mountain ranges, where green grass might be found in abundance even during blizzard weather conditions. once he gave full play to his fertile imagination, and perk would even forget the passage of time; and this was just as well, since nothing he could do would alter their situation in the slightest degree; besides, it prevented him from worrying, as he so often did. along about three o'clock--as he knew by consulting his wrist watch for the twentieth time since their start--perk had another little bright thought--what was to hinder them from having a nice snack, just to kill time, and cause them to feel stronger for whatever might come along later on? accordingly he got out a certain small packet which he knew contained some sandwiches he had paid their waiter to have made up for them, as a souvenir of the much esteemed little restaurant in san diego, city of the dons. sitting there, and still keeping an observing eye first on jack, and then sweeping it around the array of instruments fastened to the black dashboard in front of the working pilot, perk enjoyed his little nightly repast as only a fellow with his splendid appetite might. when he nudged jack in the side, and offered him a tempting ham sandwich the other shook his head in the negative, as though he was quite too busy to take advantage of the offer. following this up he made gestures which perk interpreting understood him to signify he might alter his mind later on, when the conditions had changed a bit for the better. that was just like jack--he liked to eat, it was true, when hungry; but never allowed a mutinous stomach to cause him to take the slightest chance of neglecting his duty. so perk had to dine all by himself; but he generously kept one fair-sized sandwich for the time when his chum would feel like having a few bites; which might not be until he wished perk to take his place at the controls. it was a dreary round they were making now--like keeping time in the awkward squad in the training camp--going through all the motions without advancing the spark an atom--round and round in that big circle, as the hours dragged along on leaden feet, with perk growing fairly wild to end it all, even by accepting unusual risks. five o'clock came at last, and perk more than once strained his eyes in staring hard toward the east, hoping to be able to glimpse a faint sign of approaching dawn--just a peep that would make him feel better; but thus far all in vain. nor was he able to detect any let-up in the floating sea of murky fog--it hung about them most persistently, almost dense enough to be felt; indeed most of the time their faces were wet despite the fact that they were shut up in the closed cabin of their ship. "ev'rything must have an end," perk told himself about this time; "an' i kinder guess naow that ole snap sayin' must be so; anyway, here's hopin' afore long naow i'll be squintin' at the sun apeepin' above the rim o' the world over yonder in the--yeah, it's east, okay, the compass she tells it. gettin' sorter sleepy in the bargain; but shucks! nothin' doin' 'long that ere line till we're outen the woods, an' on ground safe'n sound agin." half-past five brought a little but welcome change in the monotonous situation. perk was duly thrilled to discover what he believed to be a dim gleam of light piercing the shrouded east, which he fondly hoped was caused by the near approach of the early dawn. he did not mention the welcome news to his ally, fearing lest it prove to be a mere stretch of that wonderful imagination of his, such as in times past had so frequently played him the saddest of tricks--no, it would really be wiser for him to bide his time, and make sure he was not turning out to be what he would call a "false alarm." despite his eager wish the faint light did not appear to increase to any extent; although perk knew it must surely be about time for the dawn to break, if it ever meant to dispel the miserable pall of wet fog that had been like a blanket during the whole night--saving the hour or so they spent on the way before it gathered around them. "if the tarnation thing gives me the merry ha! ha! neow, after i've shook hands with myself, i'll feel like jumpin' off, and tryin' aout my 'chute, that aint been aired for many a blue moon. but it stands to reason there _must_ be some sorter end to ev'ry night; an' i'll hold on a bit longer. gosh amighty! what wouldn't i give to feel jest a whiff o' wind caressin' my cheek when i pokes my nose outadoors--but no sech good fortune--we're still in the soup for keeps, jack 'nd me, wuss luck!" still it seemed as though his heart was set on seeing that dim line grow wider, and bringing with it fresh hopes of a change in the dull programme; judging from the way perk continued to stare toward where he knew from the compass lay the eastern heavens. jack flew on, apparently quite oblivious to the wild yearnings that kept gnawing at the heart of his comrade. thus far he had reason to believe they had continued on that circle, where fifty miles of running would fetch them back again to about where they had started to make a ring. he would fight it out on that line if it kept them going all the next day; but until they could see the ground, so as to find their bearings from certain landmarks expressly emphasized in the rude chart inherited from the missing brother of the service, it was utterly useless to expect to get anywhere. some little time afterwards perk, thinking to find out whether there could be a "whiff of fresh air" stirring outside, thrust his head from the partly open door, and sniffed eagerly. the result was highly satisfactory, for he instantly discovered a most delightful thing--there was not only the fresh cold air to be expected at such a high altitude, possibly ten thousand feet at the time; but, in addition there came across his feverish face the sensation of a genuine _breeze_, blowing, as he quickly found out, directly from the south. he could not resist keeping his head protruding, so as to make assurance doubly certain; and while thus engaged he chanced to turn and look toward the east again. something caught his eyes, and held him riveted, as if turned into a pillar of salt like lot's unfortunate, disobedient wife. "hot-diggetty-dig! if that ere aint the mornin' star i'll eat my hat!" perk told himself in great excitement. it was most thrilling news he carried back with him when he ducked inside the cabin once more--news he felt absolutely positive would break down that icy reserve of his companion; and cause jack to join him in giving vent to expressions of jubilation. "hey! c'n yeou beat it, partner?" he cried, as soon as he could get to the ear of his boon companion; and for the time being disdaining the help of the ear-phones; then he paused for breath, having in his excitement lost his grip, it appeared. "beat what?" roared the other, understanding from perk's actions, together with the exultant tone of his raised voice, that something out of the common must have come about. "breeze started up!" whooped perk, gulping in a supply of wind. "bully boy!" jack sent back at him, managing to make himself understood above all the racket of motor and propeller, which was some triumph, since he did not possess the lung power that perk boasted. "and--yeou c'n see the ole mornin' star off in the east, showin' the dratted fog pack she's a liftin' by hunks; so, as the dawn's at hand we'll be okay!" chapter xiii all thanks to simeon "bully again!" perk faintly heard his cool pal call out, against the row their motor exhaust was keeping up. there was considerable excitement in camp just about that time, although to be sure perk was showing most of the same. the fog was in retreat after all those tantalizing hours of holding the fort--there could no longer be any doubt concerning this fact. he could even see how it was being blown off toward the north by increasing puffs of agitated air; and meanwhile that line of pearly hue in the east was widening by spasms, until faint touches of rosy light painted the skyline as with the brush of a magician artist. perk had adjusted their useful ear-phones, for he felt confident they would want to exchange congratulations, in that the long and tedious night had finally come to an end, with what promised to become a "dandy" day opening up before them. jack laughed to himself when he actually caught his relieved brother pilot humming a fragment of a little popular love-song they had been hearing several times of late in the "talkies" they patronized when in old san diego; and which evidently had been echoing in perk's brain ever since; though if accused of "getting soft" the other would most certainly have indignantly denied the fact, and vowed he had never had a best girl--or any species of girl--in his whole natural life. so things continued to brighten more and more, with perk straining his vision from time to time in order to be the first to discover "land ahead,"--in other words sight the far-distant earth below them. it came at last, after he had thus stared as much as half a dozen times; and he had the proud satisfaction of informing his comrade of the interesting fact. there was a vein of triumph in perk's voice; one would easily think he must be a modern columbus announcing the discovery of a new world; and yet it had only been one solitary night since last they were in touch with their old friend _terra firma_--solid ground. just the same that had proven to be such a memorable night, so filled with thrills, and accumulated anxieties, so gloomy in the midst of the greatest fog pack in history, that really perk might be excused for showing undue jubilation over this, their ultimate deliverance. "hully gee! partner!" he called out suddenly; "i kin see it, that's right; an' say, she sure _does_ look good to me." "meaning the earth, i reckon, eh, perk?" "nawthin' less, buddy--fog's a climbin' aout like hot cakes--soon wont be a single wisp left, i take it. but gee! what a pictur' it makes--never did set my lamps on sech _turrible_ stuff afore--looks like ole nature had busted loose in tryin' to pile up rocks as big as skyscrapers in little ole new york, some o' 'em as big as the highest hill in the catskills. what a place--what a place, i'd say agin." "does look a bit rough," admitted the noncommittal jack, after himself taking a swift survey. "a bit rough--huh! yeou jest can't ekal it if yeou trips all over this rocky mountain country fur weeks, that's a fact, jack ralston. seems like we was abeatin' the record right along on this here jaunt--the thickest fog--the longest night--an' neow the beatenist country ever! if it keeps agoin' like that we're bound to run up against the wust gang o' holdup men that was ever heard of." "had that idea in my mind from the start, so it isn't going to surprise me much if it comes true," jack calmly informed him. about this time perk discovered that the last retreating phalanx of the late fog belt had passed from his sight, dissolving in thin air as it seemed. the early morning, as viewed from that great altitude, was most charming indeed, with those fleecy white cloudlets all around them. the speeding plane ducked in and out of the groups as though playing the old childrens' game of tag, or else hide-and-seek. perk himself likened the picture to the gridiron, being especially fond of football games as practiced along the coastal slope around thanksgiving time, and later on, when the east was battling with its chilly blizzards--in imagination he could readily picture their ship to be the man who had the pigskin bag held tightly under his arm, and kept darting this way and that, eluding the outstretched hands of would-be tacklers, and dodging all interference, on his wild dash to make a much needed goal. it gave him a delightful thrill to thus compare their passage with the one hero whom he most admired--the prodigy to whom his favorite college was indebted for their greatest victory, when defeat had seemed so perilously near. "take over the stick, perk; i reckon i'd feel better if i stretched my arms and legs a bit," the wearied pilot now announced; to which the other only too gladly acquiesced; for many times during the last few hours he had hung over his mate, as if trying to influence jack to change places. "yeah, an' jack, while yeou're 'bout it jest sample the grub--coffee's fine an' dandy, as well's steamin' hot. goes through yeou like 'lectricity in this cold atmosphere." "after i've had a good look through the glasses, to see if there's any sign of the targets brother simeon marked down on his rough pigeon carrier chart we're depending on to see us through." that was just like jack--duty always before pleasure. his empty stomach--the lovely view perk had been drinking in so eagerly--all such trivial matters must wait until he had attended to much more important ones. perk might have expected to hear him say what he did, since from long experience he was fully acquainted with his pal's methods of carrying out his business calls. perk also knew quite well that he could never claim to be such a spartan, since the "fleshpots of egypt" usually tempted him to take precedence, when it became a matter of choice between them. long and earnestly did jack examine the ground below. he had given perk instructions to make several long dips, each time flattening out again on a level keel; and during all this time he was engaged in staring through the magical lens that brought far distant objects so close he could even distinguish the character of the bark on such trees as came under his observation. at such times as they were moving on the level perk managed to also scan the scene below them. they had by now greatly reduced their distance from the rugged landscape, being not more than something like five thousand feet aloft; but stare as he might perk, even with his keen vision, was unable to discover a single moving object--it was as if they owned the whole world for the time being--a weird sensation that rather awed imaginative perk. about this time the one at the controls saw his companion keeping the glasses focussed on a certain point, as though he might have discovered something encouraging there--possibly an upstanding object such as had been noted on that invaluable if crude penciled map. "hot-diggetty-dig!" perk muttered to himself, as he felt his pulses quicken once more, "don't i jest hope he's struck ile--run acrost some piled-up crags that might a served simeon as a good marker. but great snakes! heow air we agoin' to drop daown anywhere when there aint nary a sign o' level ground as big as my red neckerchief; an' us a wantin' a stretch a hundred feet, long--as much more as we kin find?" so he tried to keep still while waiting to hear anything of interest jack might have to report. most certainly the other must have made some sort of discovery, or believed he had at least; for he continued to scrutinize that particular section of the rocky ground just ahead in a way that looked promising to his anxious partner. finally jack lowered the binoculars, with perk watching his face as if hoping to read good news reflected there. "no doubt about it, i'm glad to tell you, perk," jack was saying; and if there was a trifling vein of relief in his voice one could hardly wonder at such a thing, after their just passing such a wretched night, and flying blind through the long hours, with but faint prospects of striking their goal when the coming of dawn allowed of an observation. "hey! does that mean yeou got a squint o' somethin' worth while, partner?" cried perk, solicitously. "just what it does," the other assured him. "swing around in a circle, and i'll let you have a look for yourself, buddy." chapter xiv closing the gap accordingly perk swung off to the left, and banked sharply, thus starting on a turn that if pursued long enough would once more fetch them to the point from whence they had started the maneuver. "now i'll take hold again for a time, until you've had your look," announced jack, suiting the action to the word. while his mate manipulated the glasses jack coached him word by word, until perk finally uttered a cry of triumph. "i got it, partner, sure i have!" he was saying in great gladness. "can't hardly b'lieve my eyes, it sure seems like a reg'lar miracle--to think o' all we plugged through, an' was able to hit straight to the bullseye o' aour target--it dazes me to strike sech a wonderful happenin', that's right." "then you recognize it from the brief description he gave on the side of his tissue-paper chart, do you, perk?" "it caint be anythin' else, for a fack, buddy--there couldn't run two queer heaps o' rocks that look so much like a reg'lar ole-time castle on the rhine! yep, we done aourselves proud this time--meanin' _yeou_ did, jack, ahandling the stick so smartly. naow, what's next on the programme, tell me?" "you're to take hold once more, and keep circling that target, while i stow away a little chow; afterwards i'll run things while you stoke up. we must keep in mind that there's no occasion for any undue haste--we're out to get results, no matter how long we've got to hang around this part of the country. caution, and slow progress--those are to be our watchwords, perk." "i get yeou, partner," was all that the other remarked, as he once more laid down the binoculars, and proceeded to take over the controls. just the same perk knew full well jack was intending to warn him against one of his faults, that of starting off on some important mission without due regard for precautions--a failing that had cost perk dear more than a few times in the past, and which had never been fully eradicated from his system, no matter how gallantly he tried. now that the coast was clear, and he had made the discovery calculated to prove so fortunate, as well as useful, jack could think of other matters less important and yet really necessary. he got out their "bait-box,"--as perk always called the receptacle of their food supplies--and proceeded to enjoy a ham-sandwich, washed down with the hot coffee already sweetened, and with genuine cream added; thanks to perk's "pull" with that favorite waiter in the san diego restaurant, and whom he had mentally promised to reward some fine day, in a way commensurate with the service rendered. jack took his time. he always did when eating, and consequently never knew those qualms along the line of indigestion, which occasionally doubled poor, hasty perk up with such violence. moreover, he seemed to be enjoying his novel breakfast vastly, a fact that tickled the other more or less, for perk certainly did enjoy seeing others happy. from time to time they exchanged words. of course their talk was wholly connected with the serious business on which uncle sam had dispatched them, and which they were now following out as best they could. so early in the game it was of course wholly impossible to lay their plans save vaguely; as they picked up further information they could, as perk was fond of saying, "advance the spark," and build some sort of a structure calculated to bring down the enemy's fort in ruins, unless indeed, they managed to turn the tables on the two sleuths. as they thus chatted at their ease while swinging around in a succession of short circles, the centre of which was always that conical heap of jagged rocks perk humorously called castle thunder, the name of simeon balderson naturally came up. perk had himself been doing more or less pondering upon the unknown fate of the secret service man, who was, so jack had informed him, a most valued agent of the government. "i jest caint help awonderin' what made him fall daown on his job that a ways," he mentioned to his comrade; which of course was perk's method of trying to draw the other out, so as to imbibe jack's way of reasoning. "that must, as i said before," came the reply, "remain a dead mystery to us unless we happen to run across the answer while poking around. he was up against a tough bunch, and if they discovered what he was doing the chances are they'd put him out of their way in the easiest possible fashion--throwing him over some precipice, or shooting him full of holes. that'll come to us in the bargain, i reckon, if we're unlucky enough to slip-up, and fall into their hands." "huh! i cal'late these kiotes jest hate all government men like a cat does agettin' its feet wet," hazarded perk, shrugging his shoulders. "oh worse, far worse than that, buddy," jack assured him amiably; "they know how their lives are at stake, and to them a secret service man takes on the shape of a noose, or the electric chair. whenever it comes to a fight between the two of us, and that crowd, it's got to be to the death, with no mercy shown." "i savvy, partner," perk told him, firmly; "knowed that much right along. doant skeer me any, either, 'cause my life's been made up o' takin' chances--over in france in that ole sausage balloon company--then in circus stunts in a ricketty airship that _was_ always agoin' to blow up with us--after that servin' with the canadian mounties up in the northwest territory, like yeou know 'bout; and last but not least, the times i been with yeou ascootin' raound the hull country, ahaulin' in smugglers, bootleggers, flim-flam artists, bogus money-makers, check raisers, an' sech nasty fry. i jest dote on runnin' close chances--it's sure the life that suits gabe perkiser." "the first job we're going to tackle is along the line of making a safe and sane landing--you get that of course, perk?" continued practical jack. "nawthin' else, partner," answered the other, without hesitation; "seems like ever'thing depends on that same. but aint it like lookin' fur a needle in a haystack to reckon on findin' that ere one little patch o' level ground he wrote was the on'y place where a ship could come daown, an' not crash?" "i'm going to correct you there, brother," jack was saying; "there is yet another landing field, and even a much better one; but out of our reach, for according to simeon it lies _inside_ the hole-in-the-wall valley where these fugitives from the law have their hangout. he even so much as hinted that they had some kind of a plane themselves, which was in frequent use between this section of country, and certain cities where they had secret connections, and started much of their counterfeit stuff into circulation, to the mystification of the authorities, who could never seem to pick up their trail." "jest so, jack, ole hoss, the air doant ever leave a trail, which makes it right hard fur such fellers as us to get agoin' straight. ready to start on aour way, be yeou, partner?" "yes, but i want you to keep on using the glasses right along," jack told him. "if we had the misfortune to overlap that single open patch of ground, we'd be all at sea, and must double back, so as to go over the ground again, which would increase the chances of our being discovered, or heard by some of the outlaws possibly out hunting, or going to and fro." "i'll do my level best to hit on the mark, jack; jest go as slow as yeou kin, so's to gimme every chance to count. haow far 'bout do yeou figger goin' on this tack, i want to know?" "well, this target we've struck he said on his paper map was something like twenty miles away from the entrance to the hidden valley--you remember that of course, perk? the landing field, as we've got to call it from now on, would be some six or seven miles away from their haunt; and consequently i expect to cover twelve miles, more or less, before i'm looking to have you tell me you've sighted our goal. if ever you used those sharp eyes of yours to advantage, now's the time for an extra effort, partner." "leave it to me, boy; i aint agoin' to fail yeou, not if i have to stare my ole peepers aout o' focus for keeps. drop daown some ways, jack--less chance o' aour bein' seen; an' it's goin' to help me a heap in hittin' that bit o' level stretch. cuckoo! that's the ticket--we're droppin' like a rocket-stick after she's shot her bolt. naow for to get my eagle eyes daown to business." chapter xv a clever landing a brief time passed, and then perk called out excitedly: "say, i kinder b'lieve i kin glimpse thet same pesky hangaout--looks like some sorter mounting pass, sech as he drawed in his map, where they went in an' kim aout; but they's a kinder haze ahangin' over yonder that makes it hard to be dead sure. if we get it araoun' here it'll hide us from bein' seen. the wind up here's hittin' us in the face, too, which helps some in the bargain." "never mind about the hideout--that'll all come later on. just now it's that landing-field we need most of all--keep your glass on the ground just ahead, perk." ten seconds later the observer uttered a sudden exclamation. "get a bite?" demanded jack, just about ready to swing around, as it seemed taking too hazardous chances to continue their advance any further. "kinder guess i sure have," perk told him; and then proceeded to direct the eyes of the pilot on a certain spot over which the ship was then passing. "you struck it that time, buddy!" exclaimed jack, evidently mightily relieved in his mind; for a crisis was upon them, with a change in their movements absolutely essential, unless they meant to give the whole scheme away, and wreck their plan of campaign, which was not to be considered at all. "yeah," perk went on to add, more confidently than before; "that's it, for a certain_tee_--the on'y place where a ship kin drop with a ghost o' a show to keep from bein' smashed to flinders. goin' doawn, are yeou, jack?" there was no need for the other to make answer, since already the big fokker tri-motored ship was dropping steadily. how fortunate for them that just at that critical moment nature herself was working overtime in their favor--the wind veering until it came directly in their faces; while that little haze acted as a veil to conceal them from the hidden valley lookout--if indeed any such happened to be posted, to give warning should danger menace the fugitive gangsters. perk waited, and watched, his tense face betraying the natural anxiety he must just then be enduring. it was indeed no small danger that faced them, for only a most skillful pilot would be able to successfully land a great airship on such a precarious and scanty stretch of fairly level ground. a very small thing that could hardly be avoided, save through a near miracle, would suffice to throw the heavy plane off balance, and bring about a wreck that must interfere greatly with their mission, if not utterly ruin every hope of success. yes, perk could easily be excused for feeling a tenseness around the region of his staunch heart--a tightening of the nerves and sinews--a halt in his free breathing, all of them occurring simultaneously; for the most sanguine of watchers would have easily said the feat was beyond human capacity. yet there was jack going about the job with apparently the same _sang froid_ that it was his custom to show when coming down from the clouds, to settle upon the almost perfect landing green of the big san diego airport. "say, what _wouldn't_ i give right naow if on'y i could ketch that confident spirit my best pal's got mixed up in his mind an' heart?" so perk was telling himself as he saw the deftness of the touch shown by the hand at the controls, as well as the wonderful response the perfect mechanism aboard the fokker displayed. now jack held her head on, with the ground almost within reach--beyond, the narrow stretch extended just about a hundred feet; and in this space he must bring his charge up with a round turn; for should the ship keep on she would assuredly be wrecked beyond repair. the tail came in contact, and bounded up again, to immediately repeat the manoeuvre; the wheels gliding roughly along, with the body of the ship bouncing from side to side, after the usual custom when the landing is at all inclined to be a bit off-color. the motors had ceased working, and the spinning propeller had in consequence commenced to whirl less violently. perk allowed himself to suck in his first good breath in a score of seconds. "glory be!" he was saying to himself, lost in admiration and sheer wonder--"dang my hide if he ain't agoin' to make it, i do declare--did yeou ever in yeour born days see the like o' that--bet there aint another pilot west o' the mississip could a done it that qsmart--hot-diggetty-dig! we're astoppin', as sure as anything we air. wow!" as the big plane ceased to move forward and came to a stand less than five feet from the terminus of the smooth ground, perk, utterly overcome, lay back inert, "weak as a cat," as he himself afterwards described his condition. "and that's that!" was all jack allowed himself to comment; just as he might have said in the days when he was a barnstormer, and 'chute leaper at county fair gatherings--after sailing down from a five-thousand foot ceiling, clinging to his decrepit parachute, and making a soft landing in some ploughed field. they both sat there as if to recover their breath. no longer did the roar of the exhaust break upon their hearing--all was marvelously still round about them--the rocks reared their crests high above their heads, and looking more cruel and pitiless than when seen at a distance. perk shuddered as he noted the innumerable projections that stuck out almost like giant needles in a cushion, any one of which, had its point come in contact with the now stranded ship, must have played havoc with its structure. "huh! wake me up somebody, wont yeou kindly?" perk finally broke out, as if possessed by the idea he must have been dreaming such a descent could be put through successfully. "there sure never was sech a crackin' good drop as the one yeou jest made, pal jack--i hand yeou the palm for luck an' skill combined; an' i hopes as heow i have yeou fur my side kick as long as i'm in this here flyin' trick!" jack turned a beaming face on him at hearing this fulsome compliment. "nice of you to say what you did, perk, old chum;" he remarked, with a nod of his head; "but you greatly overrate the landing--all any one had to do was to pick out the safest way, and stick to it through thick and thin. easy as falling off a log, let me tell you, buddy." "oh! yeah; _but yeou stuck_!" perk thrust back, as though after all that clinched the whole matter, which it undoubtedly did. "next thing we've got to do, perk, is to check up, so as to find out whether the ship was injured any by contact with rocks." "right yeou are there, partner," the other chimed in, quickly; "but i kinder guess as haow we aint got much to worry over that-a-ways, 'cause she kim daown so easy like, it wouldn't hardly abroken an egg." "the proof of the pudding is always in the eating," wary jack told him; "and we know one of the weakest parts of a ship lies in the undergear. let's get a move on, and find out what's what." accordingly they both started to look things over, backed by a host of past similar checkings. it could be only a superficial examination; but just the same the result pleased them immeasurably, for never the least damage could they hit upon. perk was almost delirious with joy, and wonder as well. "i never would a b'lieved that stunt could be pulled off if i hadn't seen the miracle carried aout with my own lamps," he kept saying half to himself, as he finished his part of the survey. "jest won-der-ful, i'd call it, an' let her go at that, which doant tell half the story." jack, having had the severe strain removed from his mind, now consented to finish his breakfast, the natural hunger of a healthy young chap asserting its prerogative. accordingly, since perk also confessed to feeling a "bit peckish" they sat down on the ground, with the coffee container between them, and a heap of the "ham-an' sandwiches" which had come from their favorite restaurant. "as soon as we get through this necessary business, perk, we'll stow some of the grub that's left over in our pockets for an emergency. after that we'll pick out such traps as we may need in our game, and trot along--though judging from the looks of this same ravine it'll be only a figure of speech, because we'll find it necessary to crawl like a couple of snails most of the way." "yeah! that sounds more like it, buddy," agreed perk, eying the depression with a scowl, as though he hardly liked the nature of the job ahead. chapter xvi up against a silver-tip there was some difficulty when it came to selecting such things as might prove most handy in their difficult task. several had to be laid aside as being too bulky and cumbersome; for weight would count heavily against them in forcing a passage through the thick growth in the ravine; as well as later when they struck the mighty upheaval of rocks on the side of the mountain, below the natural pass into the hole-in-the-wall valley. those things they had selected were divided up, and made into two packages of about equal weight. when jack did not happen to be looking perk managed to slip several articles into his pack, evidently begrudging their lack; which he considered only right and proper, since his shoulders and back must stand for the extra strain. "an' if we do need 'em, which is like enough," he told himself, as if in apology for his deceit; "they might jest prove _life-savers_--yeou never kin tell haow the cat's agoin' to jump; an' they do say as a stitch in time saves yeour whole bacon." having attached these bundles securely to their backs the pair were ready to start forth on their perilous errand--matching their wits and courage against the lawless spirits who had defied the power of uncle sam, believing it would take the whole u. s. army to dislodge them from such an isolated and natural fortress. "first thing we've got to remember, partner," said jack, softly, as they began to plunge into the wild growth that filled the deep ravine from one side to the other, "is to get our bearings as we advance." "gosh amighty! jack, is that a go, when all we got to 'member is haow we kept aheadin' 'long this ere coulie. i doant see haow anybody could go astray in sech a canyon as this same." "to be sure," jack assured him, "that's true as long as this is the only old waterbed we'll have to follow; which it isn't, if you remember those directions simeon sent in. once we became a bit rattled as to which channel to follow, and it'd ruin all our calculations--the element of uncertainty has wrecked more clever plans than anything agoing. more than that, we must turn around and stare at the way things look from the other direction; because we'll be heading back to our camp when we need to follow our trail. you know lots of landmarks may seem okay in going, which you'd never recognize when coming from the opposite quarter." "yeah! i knowed that too, buddy," affirmed perk, with a grin; "read 'baout the same lots o' times as a kid, when i used to soak in stories o' them old days in kentucky, that they called the dark an' bloody ground----daniel boone, simon kenton, harrod an' them forest rangers picked that trick up from the shawnee injuns they used to fight. we'll face the other way heaps o' times, an' make picters o' the scenery on aour minds; that's okay with me, jack." for some little time they had all they could do to push their way along, so matted were the vines and the underbrush, so extremely rough the footing. twice perk had stumbled, and come near having an ugly fall; he even managed to skin his right knee painfully by coming in contact with a rock; but never a grunt did he emit, accustomed as he was to taking such things as part of the game. "mebbe naow this is what i get fur loadin' me daown so heavy," he told himself, under his breath; "but jest the same i aint ameanin' to throw a single thing away; 'cause that'd sure turn aout to be jest what we needed most to save our skins." later on, as they stood still and rested a bit, perk again confided in his companion; he always did seem to suck more or less consolation out of these frequent "chinnings," as they afforded him opportunities to see things through jack's eyes, an advantage perk greatly appreciated. "more i get thinkin' 'baout the slick way that same simeon took a carrier pigeon 'long with him, so he could be sure o' gettin' valuable information into the hands o' his boss, the more i admire the ole gink. i knowed as haow the french used them birds over across the water, when we was afightin' the heinies; but say, tryin' sech a game aout in the secret service was a new dodge on me." "both clever, and original, perk," assented the other, fastening on his pack once more; "but then, as i remember simeon balderson he was always different from the common truck of the force. i'll be right sorry if anything has happened to him--wiped out by these devils up here, just because they naturally hate all service men." thus they continued to stumble along, sometimes one in the lead, and then later on the other would forge ahead, just as circumstances brought things about. there was no attempt to make any kind of speed, since time did not count in what they were trying to accomplish--far better to spend a week, even two, than to ruin everything by some incautious move. from time to time sounds would come to their ears, mostly ahead; but in every case these could be set down as proceeding from birds, or small animals that may have discovered their approach, and were showing signs of restlessness. once, however, a faint report drifted to their ears through some slant in the breeze, being possibly a mile or more distant, which both recognized as a gunshot--the only evidence of human beings that thus far they had discovered. it acted as a spur, making them remember what they were up against; but perk only smiled, as though he cared very little how soon they ran into the jaws of trouble, and matched their talents against those they sought. then they had a severe shock--it came almost without the least warning too, which made it more stunning. a rustling in the underbrush--what sounded like a snarl or a grunt; and as they flashed a startled look in that direction, a huge shaggy figure uprose to betray the presence of a genuine rocky mountain grizzly of un-heard-of proportions, standing erect. to make the matter all the more serious the frightful beast was almost directly in their way, blocking any further movement along the ravine. besides, while they carried arms, it was highly imprudent on several accounts for them to dream of using the same. in the first place their automatics would seem but trivial instruments when used against such a monster, said to have the nine lives of a cat; and often known to still be in fighting trim after receiving a volley of lead from powerful modern sporting rifles. then again if they were forced to fire, even though lucky enough to down their hairy enemy, the sound of the discharges was certain to be heard by those in hiding, and would serve to turn the entire settlement out searching for the cause of the rattling sounds. "hot-diggetty-dig! did yeou _ever_ see sech a buster o' a bar?" perk was gasping, as he stared aghast; "an' the tarnel beast's startin' to move this way, as sure as shootin', jack!" "we've just got to clear out!" came the ultimatum from jack. that was easy to say, but what chance would they have against such a powerful beast, evidently with some reason to hate all two-legged bipeds, having possibly at some time in the past been severely wounded by such a creature, and holding a vendetta against all the clan. he could break through the worst tangle with ease, while they must be held up, and their progress impeded frightfully. jack hit a brilliant idea almost on the instant. "follow me, perk!" he shrilled, tersely; "we've got to climb a tree! let's go, partner!" "which tree?" perk demanded, as he kept close at the other's heels. "over this way--got limbs low down--silver-tips can't climb a tree, i've heard. hurry--hurry!" there was indeed need of haste, for they could distinctly hear the smashing advance of the big brute; also catch the growling as he pursued the fleeing pair who had dared invade his private hunting patch. neither of them dared cast a single look back, lest they stumble over an outcropping rock, or get entangled in some running vine, such as fairly covered the ground in certain places, to serve as traps to incautious feet. jack managed to arrive at the selected tree ahead of his mate, and swinging around to the further side, so as to keep out of the other's way, commenced to lift himself into the lower branches. this was no slight task, seeing how heavily they were both loaded down with those bundles fastened to their backs; but it is wonderful what fright can accomplish under similar conditions; and perk was already pawing at the other side of the friendly tree, wild with eagerness to hoist himself far enough from the ground so as to avoid contact with those cruel claws of the monster, of which he had doubtless heard thrilling stories concerning their length, and sharpness. nearer came the crashing sounds, and the growls; but by great good luck the angry beast arrived just too late to attain his end; for while he reached up all of ten feet perk believed, he could not more than barely touch the lower foot of the climber, which was instantly drawn beyond his reach. for a full minute, more or less, neither of them could spare the breath to make any sort of comment over their narrow escape--it was enough for them to know they had nothing to fear immediately from the irate silver-tip, still standing erect, and emitting those hoarse growls, as if to tell them what he would do if only they ventured within his reach. then perk made a slight move, and jack feared he might be about to kick at the beast's elevated snout, which would only irritate bruin a great deal more. "keep quiet, and don't do anything to stir him up more than he is already," was the way jack cautioned his running mate, knowing the impulsive nature of perk only too well. "he may fade away when he sees he can't touch us. just get your breath back, pal perk, and wait up." "okay, brother," replied the other, as though recognizing the soundness of his comrade's doctrine. but somehow or other the big beast showed no signs of intending to break the siege by "fading out," as jack had termed it; he continued to move around the base of the tree, now on all fours, and again raising up to his full height with ferocious growls if either of them so much as made a slight move. "gee whiz! he sure is some wheeze, i'd say, jack," perk remarked, after some little time had passed, with no change whatever taking place. "what if the ole geezer takes a notion to tent aout here at aour tree--say, that'd be the limit, bet yeour boots it would!" then he fell silent for a spell, as though mentally calculating the extent of such a calamity on their fortunes. chapter xvii perk shows his hand "let me tell yeou, partner, that same bar he's some stickin'-plaster all right!" a full half hour must have passed without any noticeable change in the conditions. the obstinate beast stayed close to the foot of the tree, never making any attempt at climbing the same; just as though he might be well aware of his own shortcomings. a number of times, when one of the prisoners among the branches chanced to make some sort of movement, in order to relieve the numbness that had gripped his legs, the bear would exhibit the same ferocity he had shown all through the siege. "the old chap certainly must have a long debt to pay toward somebody, and is taking it out on us, perk," ventured jack, breaking the silence once more. "but it doant seem so much like a joke as at first," grumbled perk, disconsolately. "what in thunder'd we do if he camped aout on us, mebbe fur a hull day'nd night--gorry! wouldn't we be in a pickle, though--nawthin' to eat'r drink it might be, an' so sore in aour bodies we'd feel like howlin'." "oh! let's hope it doesn't turn out so serious as all that," jack soothed him somewhat by saying confidently. "what bothers me most is how we're going to do any sort of business, with that chap hanging out in this neighborhood, and likely to drop in on us any old minute." "drat the luck, any way!" growled the greatly annoyed perk, aghast at the very idea of slow starvation; with that fat old husky camped at the foot of their tree refuge, daring them to set a foot on the ground. the morning was wearing away by degrees, with the sun already peeping down into the deep ravine, from its more lofty position in the heavens. perk was now busily engaged cudgeling his brains in the endeavor to conjure up some species of scheme by which they might have a chance to rid themselves of their four-footed jailor. all at once jack saw the other start to feeling of his person eagerly as though some dazzling idea had burst upon his mind. as a rule these occasions were few and far between, and yet perk had been actually known to originate some amazing schemes, that perhaps did not always turn out as successfully as he himself might have fancied would be the case. "i could a sworn i fetched it along, thinkin' there might be some pesky rattlers in this here coulie," jack heard him muttering; and then an exclamation of delight announced that whatever he had in mind it had eventually turned up in one of his numerous pockets. "hey! what's in the wind now, i want to know?" jack demanded, in idle curiosity, since he hardly anticipated that his chum would be able to offer any plausable plan for ridding themselves of that intolerable nuisance encamped below decks. perk was holding something up exultantly, and jack could see it appeared to be a small _flask_--such things were very common nowadays, with prohibition in the land; but as he had never known his mate to use strong spirits jack naturally felt more or less surprise to see such a bottle stowed away on perk's person. but the word "rattlers" may have given jack a slight inkling of what it all meant. "fetched this here stuff 'long, jack, in case either o' us ran afoul o' a pizen snake," came the explanation; "kinder do hate to waste the same on sech a wretched beast; but seems like it might get us outen this nasty scrape." jack was forced to laugh. "quite an original joke you'd play on old eph, i take it, partner--get the poor stick drunk, you mean, of course; but what makes you reckon he'd take to the bottle; for of course you couldn't lean down far enough to pour the stuff into his open mouth--that'd be a heap too dangerous, i'd think." perk gave him a reproachful look as he hastened to explain. "say, i aint _quite_ that silly, i hopes, jack ole hoss, as to give that critter half a chanct to nab me. i got another idee, it happens, such as ought to pan aout too, if i kin do what i want without spillin' the beans, or in this case the bootleg stuff." "sounds good to me, perk," jack told him as if to encourage further explanations. "if you don't expect him to swallow it what then, partner?" "jest yeou watch yeour uncle perk get busy, boy, that's all." long before this both of them had relieved their aching shoulders of the weighty packs they were carrying, attaching the same safely to certain broken limbs of the tree that came in conveniently enough. this allowed of a certain amount of freedom; and so perk was able to wriggle down several feet, his movements as usual attracting the observation of the jealous guardian, for the great shaggy beast stood upright, with his snout elevated menacingly. "be careful now, and don't give him half an opening to nab your foot, brother," warned jack. "shucks! he aint got a chinaman's chanct to do that same, jack. hey! ole boy, do yeou smell it a'ready, to be makin' sech faces at me? well, here goes to wet yeou daown nice an' easy like." with that perk leaned over still more--his hand holding the pocket flask was just a foot or so above the extended snout of the bear, when the first trickle of the liquor started to fall, striking the animal's nose, and running down on the heavy hair covering his neck and back. "glory be! look at the scamp openin' his mouth and puttin' aout his red tongue to ketch some o' the drops!" cried the excited perk. "hey! don't be so het up an' greedy, mister; i sure aint atryin' to get yeou soaked--seems like he's quite took to the bottle, don't it, jack?" "like an old toper, for a fact, brother," the other assured him, laughing as he spoke. "i've heard how the young black bears over in yellowstone park come up to tourists, and beg for some spirits, to which their taste turns; but i didn't know a big old tramp like this had a leaning that way. i see you're trying to keep him from swilling it down, perk; must have some object in letting the stuff run all over his back as you're doing?" "kinder think i have got sech a neat little scheme, partner; on'y yeou wait up till i put the finishin' touch to the game--proof o' the puddin's in the eatin' o' the same, yeou know." "i'm waiting to be shown, buddy--you know your hand, and can play it best. go to it then, and i'll be the judge to say if it pans out okay or not." perk was now draining the flask of the last drop; for when he made up his mind to do a thing he always went the limit. "there, that finishes my snake-bite cure, more the pity," he kept telling his fellow prisoner, with a vein of keen regret in his voice. "no, yeou jest caint have another drop yeou greedy rascal. seems like yeou made things warm enuff for two ginks what never did any harm to yeou or the fambly; an' now suh, the tables got to turn--i'm figgerin' on makin' the likes o' yeou as hot as tophet, that's right, old eph." still holding out the empty flask as though to keep the bear from dropping down on all-fours, perk carefully took out a match, and held it poised between fingers and thumb. then it was that what he really meant to do clicked in the mind of jack; it rather staggered him in the bargain, so that he uttered an exclamation that told the other he had divined his secret. "kinder guess yeou're on to my curves, buddy," observed perk; "well, here she goes, an' hopin' luck comes aour way." he thereupon scraped the head of the match along a certain part of the tree trunk--several times was this repeated, but all to no avail, as the friction did not appear to be brisk enough to start things going. then perk went back to first principles, and gave a quick scrape down the seat of his trousers; whereupon there followed a tiny flash, and the match began to burn brightly. waving the bottle, and letting a drop or two ooze from its mouth perk, watching his opportunity cast the burning match directly on top of the bear's shaggy neck. he must have held his breath with suspense while so doing, for he felt as though he were casting the die, with everything at stake. "wow! it's a go, perk, you wonderful schemer!" burst from jack, as he saw a blue flame start up, where the booze had fallen on the thick, rusty looking coat of the astonished animal, instantly increasing as the liquor caught. both of them watched with staring eyes to see what followed; but they did not have long to wait. the bear dropped down on all four feet, and twisting his head around commenced snapping viciously at the spot where he already began to feel uncomfortably warm. this caused him to burn his tongue, and from that moment it took on all the aspect of a _circus_ to the two spectators lodged there amidst the branches of that friendly tree; although to be sure it was an altogether different kind of situation to the astonished bear. the animal developed a surprising amount of agility, twisting and turning in a frantic endeavor to bite at the object that was giving him such a queer sensation as of pain. but all his antics had no effect on the fire in his coat, which was continually extending its circulation by streaks and bounds. "go to it, buddy--call aout the hull fire department an' smother the blaze, or yeou're sure a goner. lookit him arollin' on the ground to beat the band--aint that cute though, partner--jest like sensible human bein's would do if they had their heads 'bout 'em when on fire. but it aint agoin' to help the pore ole dick any, either. there, he's a runnin' off like fun, headin' fur some sorter water-hole he knows 'bout, i kinder guess. what a sight that is, jack ole geezer; but jest the same i'm sorry 'bout that snake pizen stuff, i sure am--didn't canc'late to have to use it on sech game." "that's all right, perk; it'd saved the cause, and possibly our lives in the bargain. i'd call it well spent, if you asked me," jack told him. "say, look at him goin' licketty split, like the ole nick was after him, blazin', an' with spurts o' smoke bustin' outen his singed hide. he sure enough played outen his class that time, i figger. mebbe, naow, he'll cut an' run next time he meets gentlemen o' aour stripe." the spectacle was so extremely ludicrous to perk that he writhed and twisted about as if seized with a fit; so, too, did he threaten to burst out into loud laughter only that jack gave him due warning of what dire consequences would be apt to follow any indiscretion along those lines, which sobered the hilarious one, and brought him back to sanity. "kin we climb daown outen this tree naow, partner?" asked perk, after he could no longer discern any further sign of the badly singed king of the mountain valleys; "i'll be tickled pink to be able to stretch my legs a bit, seein' they're so stiff an' sore; but it shore was too bad 'bout losin' my precious snake pizen cure--hopes we aint a goin' to need it any time, that's all." chapter xviii the circling buzzards jack seemed nothing loth to carry out his chum's suggestion. truth to tell he himself felt considerably "cramped" in the lower part of his anatomy--any one who has been compelled to camp amidst the branches of a tree for a period of successive hours, knows the experience is anything but a pleasant one. so they slipped down, and once more stood on solid ground, with perk casting suspicious looks in the quarter where last they had glimpsed the fleeing grizzly, with jets of mingled smoke and fire spitting this way and that. "huh! here's hopin' he's went for good," he was saying, meaningly. "let's get a move on, partner, an' vacate these premises pronto--smells too rank fur me jest naow--burnt hair allers _did_ get my goat, ever since that barber coaxed me to have my crop singed--said as haow it'd grow out agin a heap faster if the split ends they was scotched away; but for a whole week afterwards folks used to look at me funny like, an' move further away. huh!" "no hurry at all, buddy," jack told him; "that live wire isn't going to come back this way in a hurry, you can depend on that. let's take a look, and make sure nothing has been dropped from our packs, or pockets. on the whole we've got a heap to congratulate ourselves on, coming out of such a scrape as well as we did--thanks to that bright thought of yours." "gee! it's real nice o' yeou to say that, jack, ole bean; i'm not sorry we had sech a queer experience; on'y i do begrudge him that real stuff, which is gone for keeps--it wasn't moonshine, or bootleg either, boy; but worth it's weight in solid silver--the man says as sold it to me." "well, it did come in handy, for a fact, perk, and we mustn't grieve over using it. just try to imagine one of us _did_ get struck by the fangs of a rattler, and the stuff saved a human life--in this case maybe two. cheer up--plenty more where that came from, if only you've got the coin." "right yeou are, brother," perk thereupon hastened to say, as he adjusted his pack to conform with the angles of his body. "on'y i got to be doubly keerful from neow on bout runnin' smack up again a pizenous viper, since it'd be jest too bad to get struck, an' no cure handy." when perk had anything bothering him he was in the habit of keeping his "misery" constantly on tap; but then jack was used to such little eccentricities on the part of his bosom chum--perk's good qualities more than compensated for his poor ones, a fact which those who knew him realized. they started on, following the devious windings of the former watercourse, where ages back there must have been terrible floods rush down toward the lowland, after every cloudburst at the top of the mountains. many years must have passed since those happenings ceased, for the trees and heavy undergrowth rooted in cracks of the mighty rocks told this story of change. "i sure do hope we doant run into any other kind o' wild critter, while makin' this grand sneak," perk was telling himself, as he kept close behind his leader, picking his steps as daintily as any high born lady--since that was his method of keeping watch for suspicious moving objects on the ground, such as might turn out to be reptiles waiting to puncture his ankles. "if i was totin' my winchester along, an' met up with a snarlin' mounting lion, i'd think it a bit o' luck; but when yeour hands are tied, so yeou dassent shoot a gun, things look kinder different, that's right, an' not so good." whenever jack paused for a brief stop, and stared back, perk dutifully copied his action, trying to impress certain local features of the landscape upon his memory. they had by this time come a considerable distance away from the spot where the airship had been abandoned, partly screened by the overhanging branches of several trees, and also a partial blanket of evergreens, small ones they had been able to tear up, and use with rare judgment. part of the time it was possible for them to raise their eyes and see the clear blue sky in places. once perk discovered a moving object pass before his vision, which he speedily made out to be a buzzard. a second followed close behind, and then numerous other of the carrion eaters, all swinging in the same direction after the manner of their clan. as his eyes followed the circle of soaring birds perk had an unpleasant thought strike in that gave him a chill around the region of his heart. "hot-diggetty-dig! i wonder neow could it be them gluttonus birds they been pickin' the bones o' thet poor simeon what disappeared 'raound this section o' kentry? jack hinted like he kinder guessed the plug uglies had knocked him on the head, an' tossed his body over some big precipice. gee whiz! it shore does gimme a bad feelin' to think thataways, 'specially since chances air we might be headin' straight along that same road aourselves." after that there seemed to be some sort of a horrible fascination about the wheeling line of feathered scavengers, so that at every opportunity, when an opening presented itself, perk just stared, and stared, frequently stumbling awkwardly over an unnoticed object, and almost losing his balance. jack noticed this fact presently, and felt called upon to warn the other. "keep your eyes more on the ground, partner, and do less sky gazing," he told perk in a low but distinct tone. "a tumble might give you a bad hurt; and besides, we can't afford to make any sort of racket, you know. never mind those rotten buzzards--what do _we_ care about their carrying-on." perk suspected that jack had himself guessed what ailed him, from the way he connected the sailing of the uncanny crew with his companion's erratic actions. at any rate it rather abashed perk to realize his weakness could be so readily observed; so he braced himself up, and tried to give a low laugh. "that's okay, jack; i'll be a heap more keerful. we got to do this grand creep as slick as grease, with them pesky kiotes keepin' their ears to the ground for s'picious noises." as the subject of simeon's possible raw deal had fastened itself on his mind, perk continued to speculate regarding the personality of the missing secret service agent. the subject grew more interesting the further he went, and in the end he even asked jack a question that was bothering him. "yeou says as haow yeou knowed this guy simeon some, didn't yeou, partner?" "i only met him a few times about a year back while in washington; but at that took quite a shine to him," jack explained, as perk nudged up against him, both having stopped to rest after negotiating an extra difficult stretch on their climb. "he must a been a fair good chap then, i guess, partner, eh, what?" "i liked him," jack added, concisely; "and they thought well of him in the big chief's offices." "any fambly as yeou heard of?" perk further wished to know. "he told me he was a widower--i thought he must be up against some sort of mind trouble--it just impressed me that way, though he never let out a word of his personal affairs; but i never saw him smile, even when others in the party were cracking jokes, and laughing their loudest." "huh! too bad sech a fine guy should a been sent out on a tough job like this one," was all that perk remarked, half under his breath, as though what jack had told satisfied his curiosity, and further increased his respect for the brave brother officer whom he knew only by report. these things were bound to crop up in his mind from time to time, and give him reason for further thought; for whatever the sad fate of simeon might be it seemed to have some connection with their own fortunes. then perk's roving fancy came back again to the adventure through which they had so recently passed, with such wonderful success. figuratively he patted himself on the back, because it had been wholly his conceit, that of setting their grim four-footed jailor on fire, and causing the beast to break the siege in hot haste. "huh! not so bad--fur me," perk told himself, with one of his queer chuckles. "ole perk he kin wake things up once in a coon's age, if he sets his mind on doin' the same. kinder guess it'd pay me to sorter cultivate that streak o' ingenuity--mebbe i'm movin' along to be some sorter inventor like tom edison--yeou never kin tell 'til the time comes. 'twouldn't be so funny after all, come to think o' it--my ole man had a gift thataway, even if he never did set the state o' maine on fire. huh! if things keep on amovin' like this, little ole perk mebbe'll amount to some punkins after all!" chapter xix taking great chances jack could read his chum almost as easily as he might an open page. consequently he readily surmised what was making the other feel so good--he saw perk's chest swell up, and his whole person partake of the joy that accompanied his secret thoughts. not for worlds though would he wish to let the other know how it amused him. "let him enjoy the thrill while it lasts, the dear old chap," he told himself in a whisper. "it isn't often he plays the high hat role; and after all's said and done his queer little game _did_ pan out just fine--no shooting, or whooping things up; just making it hot for that ill-tempered live wire of a silvertop bear." what was causing perk to feel so good was the thought of what would happen should any one ever again try to coax that identical bear to partake of the tempting fluid that had brought about his recent panic and flight. "me, i'd shore hate to be in his shoes, if that big hulk broke loose an' made things fly," was the way he wound up his soliloquy; when other more vital matters began to engage his attention. it was by now long after noon, and as usual perk had begun to feel a bit "queer" down in the pit of his stomach. for this feeling there was, as he very well understood, but one sovereign remedy. accordingly he gave a little tug at his companion's arm, and hastened to suggest: "jack, haow 'bout holdin' up, an' having aour lit snack--aint no tellin' when a better chanct'll come aour way, i kinder guess?" "it wouldn't be a bad idea, perk; and to tell the truth i'm feeling as if i needed a bite or two so's to keep up this climbing. hold on, here's as good a spot as any--let's go!" two minutes afterwards and they were seated crosslegged on the ground, amidst a generous growth of covert, which would likely screen them effectually from any prying eyes. jack realized that by this time they must have climbed far enough up the mountainside to bring them fairly close to the opening of the pass that led into the valley of the giants. if this were true then it behooved them to exercise a greater amount of caution than ever, lest they betray themselves to some vidette who might be posted near by. with this idea in view he considered it the part of wisdom to take perk into his confidence, so that as they exchanged views they could tone down their voices to the whispering stage. meanwhile perk had produced the aforesaid "snack" in the shape of a small package, neatly done up by that efficient waiter friend, and containing, it turned out, another kind of sandwich, with a tasty brand of cheese as the "filler." "jest didn't dare try to hitch that ere tank o' hot coffee along on this tough hike, partner," explained perk apologetically, after listening to the need of caution mentioned by jack. "so we'll have to munch this spread dry; or else locate a spring so's to wet aour whistles." "that isn't much of a hardship," he was told; "but we may be lucky enough to run across fresh water; and you could fill that empty flask of yours if you wanted." "by gum! not a bad idee that, pal jack; shore i'll do that same right willin'ly, if the chanct comes aour way. haow 'bout the next move, sense it seems we've got this far okay?" "i've been trying to figure that out," jack told him, reflectively it could be seen. "i've studied the conformation of the ground, which is something out of the general run; simeon's rude chart helped me a lot in the bargain. this enclosed valley, you understand, has high cliffs around it, with possibly only one way to go in and come out." "yeah! i get yeou, buddy--meanin' the queer pass that's so narrow three hossmen couldn't enter abreast--is that straight, jack?" "absolutely so," came the immediate reply, accompanied with a smile, as if it pleased jack to understand how readily his comrade entered into the explanation he had offered. "that being the case it seems likely we might be able to keep on climbing until finally we reached a place where we could find a screen close to the top of such a cliff. that would give us a wonderful eyrie like an eagle would select to build her nest on; and from which place we could look down into the entire valley." "hot-diggetty-dig! but woudn't that be a scream, oh! boy?" gasped the deeply interested perk, in whole-hearted enthusiasm, as he nodded his head in approval. "let's do jest that, then, partner. why, with the glasses as i fetched along for keeps, we could spy aout everything we'd want to know, an' mebbe find a way to git into the valley, withaout usin' that guarded pass." "just so, perk, and i notice you've got a strangle hold on the situation, which pleases me a heap. you see, there were a few hints in what our good friend simeon incorporated in his brief notes, that started such an idea in my brain; so once again we're indebted to his scouting for putting us wise to a good thing." "bully ole simeon--he's all wool an' a yard wide i'm a tellin' yeou jack, as the boys used to say in aour village when i was a smart-aleck kid." "then that's settled," jack announced, with finality, "and we'll keep on climbing after we get some rest, and finish our lunch. i've an idea i can catch the sweet song of a brook up above, so we'll be able to wash down this dry stuff in fine style." "good for that, partner," gurgled perk, with his mouth almost full, so that he was in danger of choking; and jack, noting the fact, refrained from making any further remarks calculated to tempt the other to splutter out a reply, or a comment of some sort. once while thus engaged in "feeding," as perk always called the act of satisfying hunger, he chanced to lift his eyes above the high margin of the gully, and immediately stopped munching what he had in his mouth. those sailing buzzards were still making their wide loops as they always do when scanning the face of the country for miles in search of their next meal; and somehow the very sight of them took away part of the satisfaction perk was feeling in filling up a vacuum "down-below-stairs." "drat the foul birds!" he muttered, half to himself; "they shore do make me tired with their everlasting wheelin' an' cavortin', atryin' to see what sorter grub we got daown here thet they'd like to gobble. gosh all hemlock! haow i'd like to knock their red blocks off with a scatter-gun!" jack understood enough not to make any remark calculated to cause his pal to again worry his mind over what could not be remedied--the mysterious vanishing of poor simeon balderson. and presently perk chirked up, as though he could put the grewsome matter out of his mind so long as he refrained from watching the constant evolutions of the carrion birds. as they devoured their last sandwich, feeling as though they had had quite sufficient, somehow both were silent. jack contemplated remaining there in that sheltered nook for a further brief rest, after which they would again take up the tedious and arduous climb. "mebbe we had orter be on the move, partner," perk finally suggested in a low whisper, just as though he feared lest a host of hostile ears might be hidden from sight by the nearby thickets. "i 'low i'm right daown thirsty, an' a swig o' that gurglin' stream'd come in fine." "just as you say, perk," with which remark jack started to arise; and presently both were toiling upward, stepping carefully, and endeavoring not to brush against the branches of the stubby pinons as they advanced slowly on the way toward their goal. a minute or so afterwards found them lying flat on the ground, swallowing generous quantities of the cold, icy water that was running down the rugged slope in a zigzag fashion, due to the innumerable obstacles that caused it to make little detours, since water must always seek its own level, and will find different means for so doing. suddenly jack lifted his head, swallowing hastily, and made a low hissing sound that thrilled his companion. "voices near by--somebody coming this way, perhaps for a drink--we must get a move on or we'll be discovered! after me, perk, and be still as the grave," was what jack whispered in the ear of his mate as he commenced crawling away. chapter xx on the encircling cliff considering the fact that neither of the two service men could boast of having graduated from the school of born scouts, and that their education along the line of the crafty pioneers was a bit off-color, it was simply wonderful how successfully they managed to creep into the thickest of the surrounding heavy growth without making any noticeable noise to betray the fact of their passage. when jack fancied they had covered sufficient ground he gave perk a signal with his foot--an old trick with the well paired couple that they had worked to advantage on numerous occasions. thereupon, when jack halted his snake-like progress, the other glided alongside; and thus they lay so close together that if necessary they could exchange a few words in whispers, although most likely jack would forego this privilege. the sound of conversation had grown much louder, accompanied by the swishing of bushes, as two or more persons continued to follow some sort of narrow path undoubtedly leading to this wonderful little rivulet. now the speakers must have reached their goal, for the voices were stilled, as though the men might be lying flat, and quenching their thirst in something purer than the poor stuff with which they were probably wont to seek the much desired kick. both of the hidden intruders strained their ears in hopes of making out what was being said, and thus possibly acquiring a little useful information; but the men spoke in such muffled tones this expectation failed to materialize--the deep, rumbling tones of one, and higher and shrill voice of the other, accompanied by occasional laughs, kept on for at least ten minutes; then from the sounds growing fainter jack and perk understood the two men must be going back the way they had come; from which fact they judged the opening into the closed valley must lie in that quarter, almost due north-by-east from their present refuge. "dog gone it! an' i ain't wise to a single thing they was a sayin'," perk lamented, half under his breath, after they could no longer catch the faintest sign of the pair who had been so near them. "same here," added jack, "which was too bad, for we might have picked up a little useful information while they talked and laughed." "gee! i strained my hearin' so hard it near cracked my ear-drums, i bet," continued perk, with a shake of his head; "but it was all rumble an' squeak, mixed in a mess. i shore never did hear so high-pitched a voice on a man in all my born days." "well, i have; and if you'll think back some you'll remember just _one_ occasion in the bargain--both of us remarked it as a queer kind of a voice--particularly for a big, bold fellow, who scorned to show a sign of weakness even when hemmed in, and taken prisoner by a couple of fresh secret service detectives, belonging to the flying corps." the effect of these words on perk was electrical--he started as though he had been shot, stared hard at his companion, then grinned broadly, and gave vent to his feelings in a suppressed _roar_--as near as he dared under such sensitive conditions. "well, well, well--hot-diggetty-dig! what a blind loon i am, not to 've s'pected that same! yeou mean that boob was no other than slippery slim hisself, the ole scratch we're runnin' after right at this minute, doant yeou, partner mine? glory be! what a great chanct we lost o' fillin' aout aour job in the start--why, we could aturned back to the ship, gone aboard, an' cut loose at two miles a minute fur the home airport, with _him_ safely bagged." "on the other hand, perk, we might have given ourselves away, and let him slip out of our hands; when it would be ten times as hard to capture him as if he didn't dream we were around this district. depend on it this is all for the best--we'll imitate the hungry wolf, and lie in ambush until such time as we can pounce down on slim, and carry him off unbeknown to the balance of the gang." "yeah! i kinder guess that's 'baout the ticket, partner; but it gives me a bad case o' the willies jest to think haow close we was, an' let 'em skip aout. gee! i'm in a cold sweat, drat the luck!" "while i was listening to his coarse language, and hard rasping laugh," jack went on to say, softly; "do you know what came into my mind--a picture of that cottage in the suburb of san diego, where we took that clever little lad we managed to keep from falling into the jaws of the mad dog." "i've thought o' the same many times since we left town," perk declared, in a sincere tone that bespoke his feelings in the matter. "nice ole lady, too; an' it gets me jest haow a boy could treat sech a fine mother like he's done--he orter be tarred an' feathered, that's my 'pinion!" "don't jump at conclusions that way, brother," jack interposed, as usual seeing further than the more impulsive perk. "first of all, we're not so dead certain he _is_ her son, and that sweet child his boy--we just guessed as much because that was surely slim's moniker on the wall we glimpsed. but then the chances are, no matter what his relations may be with the old lady, she's never really known what a bad egg slim's been. i've heard of cases where a wife of ten years standing still had faith in her man, and believed him to be simply unfortunate. so we mustn't feel so positive until we know more; although it looks as if mrs. ferguson must think him a good guy, the story of his crimes having been kept from her ears, either through accident, or a desire to save her mental suffering." "mebbe that's it, jack--yeou kin see deeper into sech puzzles than i ever could. but i only hope we manage to pick up leadin' clues, an' find aout 'baout that matter 'fore we're through with this case." "believe me, we're going to do all of that, perk. once we get our man again, and are aboard our good ship, headed for port, we'll see that he opens up and explains a good many things that so far are wrapped in mystery." "i kinder guess that's right, buddy," was perk's comment; after which they ceased whispering, to turn their full attention upon the task ahead--that of climbing still higher up the face of the steep mountain, with the idea of securing a full view of the hidden valley, and all contained therein. whenever a good opportunity opened up for an observation jack studied the nature of the ground above them. in this fashion he felt capable of deciding when they had gone as far as was needful in order to carry out their purpose, and secure an unobscured view of the wonder valley, with all it contained. both of them experienced more or less curiosity along these lines, as was most natural. so much had been said concerning the hard gang of bad eggs who had taken up their quarters in this wild locality--they had caused such a riot of annoyance to the authorities at washington, on account of their periodical forays, and the apparent impossibility of breaking up the defiant group, that anything connected with their life in the mountain fortress must appeal strongly to each and every secret service man. then besides, the unknown fate that had overtaken the last two gallant adventurers who had dared to try and beard the tough lawbreakers in their den--and which had only latterly come to the ears of jack and perk--was calculated to invest the whole subject with a tinge of mingled romance and sheer adventure, such as added to the thrill. it began to look as though they might reach their objective with an hour or so of daylight remaining, in which to take an observation. later on, as they sat, or lay resting after the strenuous climb, they could compare notes, and begin to build up something of a plan of campaign. "i reckon," said jack, softly enough, after one of those halts, during which he always made up his calculations, "we're as high as we need go. by sheering off here to the right we're apt to strike the top of that high cliff we spotted. then we'll have all the chance we want to get rested." "shucks! i aint a mite tired, buddy," perk assured him, between breaths; "on'y short o' wind, as yeou might say. some climb, b'lieve _me_!" "get your breath then, perk; and if you're ready say when." "go to it, ole hoss!" they exercised due caution, and gradually swung around in a half curve, when perk gripped the arm of his mate, to hoarsely exclaim: "thar she be, partner, openin' up like a book right ahead o' us!" chapter xxi all on a diet "steady then, boy--we mustn't give them a chance to glimpse anything moving up here, or the fat'll be in the fire. a step at a time, and mighty slow at that!" jack warned the hasty perk. the sun lay low toward the western horizon, as seen through a gap in the mighty snow-capped mountains lying in that quarter. it happened that there was a line of scrub growing close to the edge of the cliff; and which the quick-witted jack saw would prove a very effective screen for them to hide back of. down on hands and knees they dropped, to begin crawling inch by inch toward their objective. a cat creeping up on a sparrow, or a fat robin, could not have displayed a greater amount of sagacity and caution that those two man-hunters exhibited then and there--every little move was a gem; and perk, keeping close to the heels of his leader, was fain to thrill with admiration over the wonderful skill shown by jack in making this advance. by slow degrees they opened up an amazing vista as they drew closer to the brink of the cliff--it was a spectacle such as neither of them had ever laid eyes on during their entire past life--that glorious green valley lying like an oasis amidst grim mountain ranges, making the contrast clean-cut, and magnificent indeed. later on no doubt jack would drink the scene in with avidity, since he was a great lover of the picturesque; but at that particular moment there happened to be other things demanding their sole attention. the valley itself was the only frame that surrounded the picture most interesting to their minds. those who had gathered under the effective leadership of the man whom they had been credited with sending to the federal penitentiary not so many moons back, were the objects of their dangerous journey into these untracked wilds; and they were most eager to learn just how they were living in their hidden retreat--also what their mode of slipping out to make a bold stroke, and then disappear again most mysteriously, might be. first the further end of the valley came under their view, but with never a moving figure, nor yet any sign of huts or tents to indicate the presence of human beings. by slow degrees they widened their line of observation--objects closer at hand began to be noticeable, and finally they discovered the first shack. it was only a place used as a shelter for animals, which would indicate that they had a herd of ponies in the valley, where doubtless there would be found plenty of grass for grazing, even throughout the severe winter season. jack's first impression ran along the line of what a wonderful prize such a rare mountain retreat must some day prove for cattle, driven from the open range by the coming of cold, and heavy snows. ah! a second structure now bobbed up; but like the other it had the look of a rough shelter unsuited for human use. others by degrees came along, and jack counted nearly a dozen up to the time he struck quite a commodious log cabin, looking like some he had seen in times gone by when in a logging camp in michigan, where a bunch of loggers cutting timber during the winter, had to be kept warm when feeding. men were clustered around this structure, some lying on the ground, while others sauntered about, evidently talking and joking; although any sounds they might be making came but faintly to the strained hearing of the watchers up on the heights, so great was the distance separating them. "hot-diggetty-dig! thar they be, partner, the hull kittin' crew," perk ventured to say, softly; for as yet they did not know whether a lookout or vidette was kept posted, where he could have a range of vision covering many miles out over the rock strewn country toward the east and south. "just a round dozen in sight," muttered jack, who was already using the binoculars; "but at that there might be as many more in the huts and shacks. away off there to the north, where the grass looks greenest i can see a small herd of ponies feeding; remember, perk, some of those accounts hinted that in all probability they conducted their raids on horseback, and faded away again completely after striking." "huh! seems like they got a reg'lar _system_ organized," grunted the observant perk, staring off to the section where jack indicated. "that's all the work of our old friend, slippery slim," he was told in terms that would not admit of any denial; "he's shown in his past jobs he's a wonderful organizer--if he had been straight, and in the army, his genius might have pushed him far up the ladder; as it is he's only been able to prove one of the nastiest thorns in the flesh the government ever tackled." "then i kinder guess it'll be a relief if we carry this job through to a finish, and get the critter landed for keeps back where his wings'll be fair clipped." "you said it, perk." jack still held on to the glasses, finding it so interesting trying to locate this thing and that; but then perk had most astonishingly keen eyesight, and could pick up considerable information unaided. he was accustomed to staring into dim far-off spaces when aloft, which added to his ability in that line. lower dropped the sun. presently the shadows would come trooping out of their hiding-places, where they holed during daytimes. jack realized that, shut in as the valley was by those beetling cliffs, the twilight must be already falling down yonder--yes, he could notice the failing light, and inside of a brief time darkness must wrap everything in its dark folds, save where possibly some fire continued to burn, and dispel the gloom. "i figure that they do most if not all of their cooking inside of that long log cabin, and eat there to boot," he explained to his companion, eagerly listening. "more organization stuff, eh?" grunted perk; "then like as not they even got some kinder cook, or _chef_, to handle the pots an' pans. flyin' high, i'd call it, partner--alivin' off the fat o' the land mebbe." "why not, when they've pulled off some mighty big shake-downs during the last few months, and must have raked in a heap of dough? with the coin you can buy all sorts of good things to eat; and don't forget how they've got a special delivery ship, that is able to tote half a ton or more of freight." "whew! jest to think o' that," breathed perk, making a face as if some extremely painful thought had flashed through his excited brain; "an' heow we on'y got _four_ slim sandwiches to fill up on--hardly a bite apiece." "tough luck, that's right, boy," said jack, cheerily; "but such old campaigners as we are shouldn't squeal because we miss a few meals. easy enough to make up for lost grub when we're all cleaned up, and sitting pretty. besides, just as like as not i'm going to ask you to trot back to our ship in the morning, if you're agreeable." "huh! surely not to stay, while yeou're up here by yeour lonely--don't tell me that, jack, ole pard." "hardly, buddy; i'll need your help too much to divide our forces in front of the enemy, or when crossing a stream, which is a bad time, they say, to change horses. i meant that you could make up a big bundle of grub, and tote it along; for there's no telling how much time we're going to squander, loafing up on this roost, and watching how things go." "gosh! _that's different_, partner; of course i'd be glad to slide daown there, take a peek at our boat, load up with some stuff, an' make it back here 'bout middle o' the afternoon--if i'm lucky." "well, you've just _got_ to be lucky, and not spill the beans, that's a foregone conclusion, perk. every foot of the way you must keep on the alert, and take no chances of discovery. but it's getting so dark down in the valley we might as well shut up shop for the present." "meanin' it's the end o' a perfect day, eh, what?" asked perk, as he started to "back water," and push away from the screen of scrub bushes. "well, we've accomplished a few things worth remembering, so the time hasn't been exactly wasted, perk. but the main job still lies ahead of us, remember, brother. it's going to be no small job either, to separate that slick rascal from the balance of the gang, and carry him off in our airship, without having to fight a regular battle with the mob." perk scratched an ear, and then remarked softly: "it never could be done if left to a lad built like me, i'm tellin' yeou, my boy--couldn't make the grade, which is a fack. some galoots air built that way, yeou savvy? but, so long as i got a pal to lean on i aint worrin' 'baout not bringin' home the bacon, not me." "none of that baloney, perk." they continued to back away until jack decided they were far enough distant from that dreadful brink of the mighty cliff, to avoid any possibility of falling over if by chance they "walked in their sleep," as perk had been known to occasionally do, when something was weighing heavily on his mind. "let's have those last few sandwiches that you held out at lunchtime," jack remarked, settling down to make himself as comfortable as the conditions allowed. "good thing too, you were so thoughtful, since only for that we'd have gone to sleep with empty stomachs, which is rather hard on a fellow as fond of chow as some one i know." "i'm guilty, all right, jack--eatin's one o' my shortcomin's for a fack--allers did count the hours 'til the horn'd blow fur dinner-time--age haint changed little gabe perkiser a whit, an' never will, i kinder spect. take yeour pick--jest two each, an' haow i wish i'd a told him to make 'em double thick--why, dang it they on'y be a couple o' bites each, sech bites as i take." "half a loaf's a lot better than no bread--be philosophical, buddy, and as you munch your fodder keep thinking what you're going to do punishing the grub when the time of plenty rolls along, which it surely will do in good time." they sat there exchanging remarks in cautious tones, and making the slender allotment of food go just as far as possible--as might a child nibbling all around the sugar coating on the top of his cake, "keeping the best for the last." "goin' to be some cold, in the bargain, seems like," suggested perk, whose mind always ran to picking out the thorny parts, and forgetting the pleasant ones lying in wait for them later on. "oh! well, we ought to know what cold stuff means, after being miles high so many hours at a time, and in an open cockpit at that, remember, perk. what can't be cured must be endured--there's going to be a lot of good times when we've wound up this game for keeps, skip back to old san diego, and that jolly little restaurant we know." "yeah! providin' we aint knocked aout o' the runnin' 'fore that time, ole hoss," grumbled perk. chapter xxii the man with the cook's cap somehow perk's mind seemed to dwell most persistently on their lack of a comfortable fire. many a time he must have been in much sore need of warmth than on the present occasion, and could "grin and bear it." he wondered himself at his frequent grumbling, and at one time even openly confessed to jack, as though his guilty conscience had begun to reprove him. "doant jest know what ails me, partner, to kick up sech a big row over standin' things--must be i'm agettin' right old, an' near my second childhood. i'd sure give somethin' to be able to warm my hands at a cracklin' fire right naow; an' seems like i wouldn't get much o' a snooze, when i'm a shiverin' to beat the band, with nawthin' warm inside me neither." "we'll crawl a little further along to where we can get out of this chilly breeze. it's because we're so high up we feel it so. i'm meaning to take a look around tomorrow, and see if i can't run across some sort of a hole, or crevice, where we'd be a lot more comfortable nights." "huh! might as well make it a reg'lar _cavern_ while yeou're 'baout it, partner; not as i'm atall greedy, see; but i always _did_ want to explore a gen-u-ine cave, ever sence i read mark twain's 'tom sawyer' an' 'huckleberry finn' books." "just as you say, brother, it'll have to be some kind of a cave then, so you'll feel satisfied--anything to keep peace in the family. but for just one night we must put up with whatever comes along, and take it out in thinking how fine we'll be another night, with a warm hole in the rocks, perhaps a nice blaze going, and all those good things to eat you mean to lug up here." "say, have heart, wont yeou, partner, an' please don't aggravate the situation so bad? if yeou hear me a rollin' off a list o' dishes like the waiter does in a cheap chop house, don't knock me any, 'cause like as not i'll on'y be a talkin' in my sleep." when they had devoured the last crumb of their limited supply of ham sandwiches the change in the campground was effected; and just as jack had prophesied, the cold wind did not seem to strike them as keenly as before. "stand it as long as you can, perk," jack told his mate, before they thought of turning in, "when you get to shivering too much, the only thing to do is to get up, and start your daily dozen in exercising your arms violently; but make no noise on your life. we don't know when one of those brutes may be prowling close by, and upset all our tricks by knocking over the apple cart." "needn't fear i'm sech a silly as that, ole hoss," perk assured him, indignantly. "but what i wanter ask is why couldn't some fellers that knowed haow to slip daown a rope withaout burnin' their hands to a crisp, drop into that same valley as neat as wax, while night hung on?" "simple as falling off a log, that's okay, perk, old pal; if _only_ you happened to have a rope, and it was long enough to do the business." "shucks! allers is some kinder drawback to every game i hatch up--we aint got any rope fur a fack; which is too bad, aint it? guess as haow if we ever do get inside that ere valley we'll shore have to sneak in by way o' the narrer little pass. if so be they got a sentry on deck there, why, we'll have to poke him in the neck, an' put the gink to sleep." "too early to be settling that matter, before we've located things," jack argued. "always a chance of something popping up that we don't know about, and which'd solve our troubles. first let's try and get a few winks of sleep, because i for one feel as though i needed it." it was fated to be about as mean a night as they ever could remember, and undoubtedly they had both experienced many poor ones. jack managed to drop asleep, to awaken later on to find himself shivering, and with his teeth rattling like castanets in the dextrous slim fingers of a spanish dancer. something was moving near by, and, looking that way he could just manage to make out, with the starry heavens as a background, a figure with numberless arms, so it seemed, shooting up and down with mathematical precision. jack chuckled, realizing how it must of necessity be his pal, perk, who, also awakened by having shivers run over his entire system, had remembered the advice given him, and was doing his daily dozen several times over, to induce a circulation of warm blood in his extremities. like a good doctor, not averse to taking his own medicine, jack hastened to scramble to his feet; after which there were a pair of them industriously working their arms like flails on the threshing floor, taking steps in unison backward and forward. perk fell in with the trick, and managed to keep time with his companion, as though it might all be a huge joke. then, after they began to feel more comfortable, they again lay down to try and get a little more sleep. "wonder what time it kin be, jack; caint get a peep at my wrist watch in all this darkness, yeou know?" perk was asking, turning as always to his reliable comrade when in any trouble. "somewhere around three, i'd say, according to the lay of the stars overhead," came the ready reply, proving that jack had for his own comfort challenged the chart of the skies, which was well known to his understanding, from long practice in reading the ways of the planets. "kinder guess that's 'bout so, an' i'm glad on'y a few more hours got to be endured, when mornin'll come along, and mebbe the warm sun'll show his nose to help aout some." after that perk must have gone to sleep, for jack did not hear him speak again. if perk felt compelled to get up and do some more exercising later on at least he did not arouse his companion; for when jack once more opened his eyes it was to see a faint light over toward the east, to prove that dawn was well on the way. he was feeling greatly chilled, and losing no time hastened to get up and commence that swinging of his arms; also punching an invisible bag again as though he might be a pugilist at his regular exercises, in view of an approaching fistic battle in the arena, amidst cheering multitudes of frenzied fight fans. then, too, perk speedily realized what was going on, and joined forces with the early riser, making all sorts of remarks, both in lament and otherwise, and keeping time with his vicious lunges. "take that, yeou pizen critter, an' a few more o' the same stripe, to make yeou take the count for keeps! haow dye like that swipe, i'm askin' o' yeou,--a sweet upper-cut i got a copyright on? that's a bit under the belt, mebbe, but ev'rything counts in this mill--there aint no foul blows. an' by the same token i'm beginnin' to feel some better a'ready, jack, ole hummer." before ten minutes had passed both of them were content to call a halt, as their arms were beginning to feel the strain, and they found themselves no longer chilled to the bone. "hot-diggetty-dig! it'd be simply scrumptious if on'y we had a good breakfast on top o' that exercise," with which gruesome remark perk pulled in his slack belt another notch, under the impression that by increasing the pressure on his empty stomach he could cause the distress to disperse. the light in the east had been growing brighter all this while, having taken on a pinkish tinge that announced the speedy coming of the king of day. of course it would still be dark down in the valley, so there was no use as yet in their moving over to their shelter of the preceding afternoon. "seems like i might get a move on, an' be agoin'," perk suggested; nor did the other try to place any obstacle in his way. "nothing to hinder you, buddy," jack was telling him, holding out his hand with a smile. "i'm not going to say another thing about being careful, because i'm dead certain you'll be on your guard every minute of the time. only, if set upon fight with all your might; for you must know men like these jail birds, most of them i reckon having broken out of bondage, hate our class as the devil is said to detest holy water; and they'll never give you a decent chance if you surrender." and perk, that veteran of the war across the big pond, nodded his head as he went on to say nonchalantly, as became a soldier of fortune: "yeou want to understand, partner, if i jest have to turn my toes up to the daisies in this game i'm agoin' to have some company along the road to shadow-land, yeou bet yeour boots on that same. ta! ta! an' look fur me araound sunset, er earlier if i kin make it a go." jack hated to see him depart, but it was all in the line of business; and many unpleasant things have to be endured in following the path of duty; none realizing this truth better than men in the secret service, where they never know at what minute they may be called upon to risk life and limb in carrying the summons of the law into all manner of dens and hideouts, where potential criminals may be lying in ambush, with machine-guns, and bombs, ready to bring destruction to the daring officers of justice. jack, as soon as the early morning mists had cleared away, began work. he had laid out a dozen important things he wished to see through, and as a beginning once more posted himself in a recumbent position behind the friendly screen of those stunted bushes, close to the edge of the steep descent--a most colossal precipice it now became in his eyes, although always in the nature of a cliff to dwellers of the sunken valley some hundreds of feet below. of course, as he dared not creep any closer to the brink, he was unable to make any sort of survey of the near section; but he fancied the more important huts and shanties were within range of his glasses. he moved his hands with the utmost care, for how was he to know when the bright rays of the rising sun might glint from the magnifying end of the binoculars, attracting the attention of some suspicious man far beneath by the brilliant flash that was bound to follow a hasty movement? besides, jack felt constrained to keep himself in touch with a retreating line of brush, in order to make a quick getaway should any alarming sound, like the fall of a dislodged rock, give warning of the possible approach of some curious investigator. by degrees he familiarized himself with every part of the depressed ground falling under the scope of his glasses. in so doing he paid a great deal of attention to the long, low log cabin, which he had in the beginning decided must be a dining hall, and general loafing quarters. men came and went, and several of those who reappeared, after a protracted stay within, seemed to be wiping their mouths, as though they had been eating. then it was finally decided without the least doubt, when a man wearing an apron that may have once been white, and a similar peakless cap, evidently serving as a general cook, came out and emptied some left-overs into a wooden pail, so it could be carried away, to be devoured by buzzards, or possibly skulking foxes and coyotes, perhaps even timber wolves. chapter xxiii perk carries on apparently jack found considerable interest in the man wearing the white cap of a cook, for he watched him keenly as he came and went, limping a little, it seemed, as though somewhat lame. then, as the morning drew on, jack changed his location, as though desirous of applying his energies to another duty that claimed attention. he was away from his post all of three hours; and when once more creeping over to the friendly screen of scrub bushes, there was a satisfied look on his grim face, that gave him an air of renewed confidence. apparently things were working along the right path, which would mean he found them to his liking. if jack felt exceedingly hungry, with so little to stay the clamorings of an empty stomach, he gave no evidence of such a thing. but then he did not happen to belong to the class of "squealers," as honest perk often delighted to assign himself, without a blush of shame--he was built to expect three square meals per diem, and felt he had a right to "kick" when, through some misfortune they failed to come along on schedule. the afternoon wore away slowly, with jack in continual use of his glasses. it was a most interesting study for him, this spying upon the hideout of the greatest aggregation of badly wanted refugees from the law he had ever run across. what a grand haul would result if only he chanced to have a dozen of his fellow workers in the secret service at his call, ready to draw a net around the sunken valley, and forcing a general surrender. a good many empty cells in the federal penitentiaries would be filled with their former occupants, jack was telling himself, as he strove to count the idle members of the gang sunning themselves, and taking things so comfortably, as though they refused to entertain a single minute of fear concerning the possibility of the army being used by uncle sam to encompass their downfall. jack now began to anticipate the return of his comrade, judging from the manner in which he frequently turned his head, as if to listen, while a look of concern began to draw lines about his eyes. the fact that he had seen no sign of excitement among those he was watching had given him good cause for confidence. surely, if the presence of strangers in the neighborhood had been discovered, with possibly perk made a prisoner, he must have noted the fact as he viewed the panorama spread out before his eyes. it was when the descending sun had dropped well down the western sky--about five by his faithful little wrist watch--that all of a sudden he heard something drop just back of his position, followed by a low, shaky voice saying: "hot-diggetty-dig! say, i'm 'baout all in, for a fack--gee whiz! sech a climb, with a pack on my back that weights somethin' like a ton. whee!" and there was perk, flat upon his back, having been drawn down when he attempted to let his burden drop. jack gained his side as speedily as he could, his mind at ease once more, his late fears having vanished like a puff of mountain fog before a rising breeze. "mighty glad to see you safe back, buddy--was just beginning to feel a bit anxious--but you shouldn't have attempted to lug such a whopping bunch of stuff up this steep grade." perk gave him a wise grin, and managing to find his voice he went on to say, in a jerky manner between breaths: "didn't reckon to in first place, jack--after i hitched to aplenty yeou know i 'membered 'bout somethin' else--then saw a package o' grub i jest did want to try eout the wust kind--so she climbed to this mounting--but it's okay--we kin make use o' ever'thing, bet yeour boots we kin." "i hope you did what i told you to--eat a good lunch while you had the opportunity?" jack asked, solicitously, whereat the other slily winked one eye, and made reply: "sure thing, partner--easier to swaller the grub an' carry same _inside_, than to tote it on my back. but queer haow a gink keeps on buildin' up a appetite, fur somehaow i'm hungry as all git-eout agin." that was just like perk; but jack had to chuckle at the lugubrious expression he could see on his comrade's expressive face as he announced this sad fact. "well," he told the returned scout, "we'll eat as soon as we get further away from the cliff; i've got some things to tell you that may sound interesting; but not a single word until i've had a chance to break _my_ fast." "great guns! jack, ole hoss, i forgot as haow yeou aint had nary a bite all day long, while i was jest _gorgin'_ myself daown yonder!" "first tell me, was the ship okay?" "sure was, jack," the other went on to state, as he managed to regain a stooping position, with the mighty pack still on his back, assisted by a friendly push at the hands of his ally. jack seemed to breathe easier, showing that he had really worried about the possibility of something happening to their air courier, such as must put a halt to their operations, if not entirely smashing the same. "'fore i started back," continued perk, who was now wound up, and capable of running on for any length of time, his wind being assured, "i took time to toss some more o' them evergreens on exposed parts o' the crate. she's camouflaged neow to beat the band--kinder guess a galoot with the eyes o' a hawk might pass by less'n fifty feet away, an' never suspicion what that big mound was. but there ain't been anybody araound there since we cut aout--i'm givin' yeou that straight, pard jack." shortly afterwards they settled down in a secluded spot, where the brush grew thick enough to effectually conceal their presence, assisted in this friendly task as it was by various piles of rough rocks, such as were as plentiful in that wild country as "grains of sand on the seashore," perk had more than once declared. jack held to his resolve, and refused to say another word until he had taken the sharp edge off his appetite. just then he doubtless could appreciate how his always hungry chum must suffer between meals. by the time he had been munching the stuff the sympathizing perk kept putting before him, for something like ten minutes, the acute sensation had passed away. perk had also been doing a little side act of his own, and managed to put away a fair proportion of eatables. he was waiting as patiently as he could for jack to start telling what he meant by the word "discoveries;" and hoping something entertaining might be forthcoming. "i'm glad you saw fit to fetch that big flashlight, _ditto_ the two extra dry batteries along, buddy," observed jack, finally; "because we're going to find a good use for the same. i've entered a claim for a nice dry residence, which we can use while we're in this region--rain or shine, cold or otherwise, it's a sure enough jim-dandy _cave_!" "bully boy, jack; i'm tickled pink to hear such good news; when do we move in, tell me?" "right away--that is, by the time darkness comes along, perk; because it isn't a great way off--a fissure in the big rock that looked sort of inviting to me; so i crept inside, with a splinter of dry wood that i could coax to burn. couldn't see all i'd have liked to, but enough to tell me the crack developed into a regular cavern, with a roof fully twenty feet up, and feeling a heap warmer than we found ourselves last night." "whoopee! that sounds right fine to me, cully; i'm sure glad yeou hit sech a prize package fust shot. but i jest knowed yeou'd be adoin' yeour stuff when i was a crawlin' 'long daown there in the bottom land. i'm crazy to take a squint at aour new lodgin'; but i guess there aint no sech hurry." "plenty of time for everything," jack assured him, still engaged in the pleasant task of feeding the furnace fires within. "we can have a great chin once we get settled; and perk, i spent a full hour toting a lot of wood into that split in the wall." "meanin' as haow we kin even have a bully little fire--all the comforts o' home, an' nary a red cent to pay for rent, in the bargain. ain't we the lucky boys, though." "listen! that's a familiar sound i'm picking up, eh, what, perk?" "sure is!" cried the other, showing signs of sudden excitement. "some sorter airship headin' thisaways. must be that ole crate belongin' to the boys daown in the valley; let's git back to the cliff, an' see what's what, jack." chapter xxiv in the tom sawyer cavern "she's acomin' closer right along, jack!" perk was saying, cautiously, as he limped along at his companion's heels, evidently more or less tired after his long tramp, with that great pack settled on his back. jack realized this fact himself. he was keeping a wary eye turned in the quarter whence the roaring sound could be heard, constantly growing louder with each passing second. if he suddenly discovered the approaching plane he could give the plodding perk the "high sign", when both must drop down flat to keep from being discovered by those in the ship's cabin. as it happened the incoming aircraft was keeping low down, its pilot undoubtedly expecting to swing into the valley by way of the spreading jaws of the narrow pass. by the time they managed to gain their old location the landing had been successfully accomplished, a fact that caused perk to remark: "huh! them guys arunnin' that crate aint no dummies at their job, sure as shootin'. that was a slick landin' the gink at the stick set daown. wow! see haow they're aswarmin' eout o' evry shack, will yeou; like this comin' back o' the patched-up ship might mean it was afetchin' 'em all sorts o' stuff they kinder hankered after? what a soft time them rats air ahavin', with nawthin' to do 'cept wait fur the supper bell to sound." "watch and see what manner of stuff they take out of the cabin," advised the wide-awake jack, with an evident hope he might learn a few "wrinkles" concerning the occupation of the confederates in this mountain retreat, by thus checking their plane's cargo, for he had noted that it was heavily laden. there seemed to be an abundance of willing workers now, and the way the freight was lifted out of the cabin, to be carried toward the big log cabin, told of the personal interest they had in the stuff. "looks mostly like grub, i'd say," jack remarked, keeping his eyes fastened to the useful binoculars; "and i reckon business, whatever it is they're carrying on, must be good, for them to buy such a mountain of food, staples and fancy groceries in the bargain." perk could be heard making a queer sound in his throat. "i'm a piker if this doant beat anythin' i ever stacked up against," he gritted between his teeth. "hard times, they say, an' yet here's a bunch o' tough guys aloaded up with 'bout sech truck like a oil-well nabob daown in oklahoma might lay in fur the hull winter. mebbe i wouldn't like to board up at this hotel fur a spell! i'd sure make a dent in their ole grub pile." the plane cabin was soon emptied, and apparently it had held an enormous cargo. they saw the two men forming the crew head toward the dining hall, as though to await the call to supper. perk, having begged to hold the glasses, was eagerly staring at the pair, wearing dingy flying togs. "hot-diggetty-dig!" he muttered, just loud enough for jack to hear him, "so _that's_ what took ole nat outen san diego, was it? did somethin' to make him want to skip by the light o' the moon, an' then hitched up with this ere rotten bunch o' crooks. he sure had it comin' to him, bein' he'd been skatin' on the edge o' goin' bad some time back." "you seem to know some one, perk, from what you're saying?" ventured jack. "yeah! a galoot called nat tucker, once a fair sorter pilot; but kinder crooked, some folks used to say behind his back. that's him, the stouter lad with a limp--got that onct when he had to step off a mile high, an' his chute didn't work as nice as it orter, lettin' him crash when he landed in a hay field--would a been killed if it'd been rocks, like these here. found his level okay when he struck this rotten crowd. had a sorter nice halfbreed squaw fur a wife, too, pretty as a picture; but i heard she kicked nat aouten the house, so he's cleared up fur keeps. well, he's kinder classy as a pilot, an' said to be a reg'lar dare-devil in his way. the boys'll sure be some s'prised to hear what's happened to ole nat." as the crowd down in the valley had thinned out by this time, most of them passing into the big log cabin, jack concluded there was no necessity for himself and perk to remain any longer at their lookout point. once back at their former campground jack picked up his supper at the point he had quit when the sound of the oncoming airship drifted to their ears. perk looked expectant, as though he still remembered that his chum had promised to enlighten him concerning various discoveries made during the day just then closing. "i've been figuring things out," jack commenced saying, as he continued his interrupted meal, "and from a number of little things i saw i'm almost certain these banded crooks must be carrying on a bogus-money plant up here--several times when the wind changed i thought i could catch a queer sort of sound that was along the line of machinery, a press perhaps working at printing the counterfeit bills." "gee whiz! i wonder!" ejaculated the deeply interested perk, his eyes aglow with half suppressed excitement. "stop and figure it out for yourself, buddy," jack went on smoothly, as though his own mind was already fully made up. "could anybody think up a finer and safer location for such an illegal plant than up here, where they could carry on their work without molestation? and then, when they had a good grist of bogus stuff to scatter over the western country, how easy to send it out aboard that swift airship? i warrant you they're doing a land-office business--no stagnation in this neck of the woods, even if it's said to be the case nearly everywhere else all over the world." "gosh! doant it beat the dutch, jack, haow chumps like that kin lick up all the cream on a pan o' milk, leavin' the skim stuff to honest folks? but yeou said yeou'd picked up a heap o' pints, which i'd hear 'bout later on. aint that time come 'raound yet, buddy?" "hold your horses, perk; that news can keep until after we get located in our new sleeping quarters. suppose we divide up all this stuff you've fetched, along with what we already had on hand; so i can help tote the same. i can see with one eye how you must be fairly worn out with what you carried all the way up here. come, let's get a move on, partner." perk did not show much signs of being so dead tired, judging from the alacrity with which he scrambled to his knees, and busied himself making up the two packs. one, which he evidently fully intended for himself, was about twice as heavy as the other; seeing which, (and comprehending the usual generous spirit of this big-hearted chum) jack managed to pick it up when the other was not looking, and absolutely refused to surrender when appealed to. "not any, partner," he told perk, resolutely; "what do you take me for, a weakling, or a shirker? if you say much more i'll sling _both_ packs over my shoulder, and leave you to trot along in the rear. i've done nothing but loaf all day, while you were as busy as a beaver. get out, and stay out, d'ye hear, boy?" he led the way, and seemed to know just where he was going, passing around a dozen great rocks that barred their passage. perk marveled at his pal's skill and memory as a guide, never pausing to question his route, but following the circuitous trail as though he had trodden the same for a long time. finally, when they had descended the slope for a short distance, jack stopped in front of a minor cliff, and pointed to the fissure in question. "i'll go on ahead with my flashlight, and you keep close to my heels, perk," he explained. "so far as i could tell there's nothing apt to trip us up; but its just as well to be on your guard, with a clumsy bundle on your back, and your legs being a bit tottery after that long climb. ready, buddy--then in we dip." perk could not keep from feeling something of a thrill as he followed his partner into the fissure, which seemed to widen the further they advanced. presently he could no longer glimpse either wall, and hence came to the conclusion they must have already reached the large cavern mentioned by jack earlier in the evening. coming to a halt the leader shifted his hand torch in such a fashion that both of them were now able to see the walls, as well as the high ceiling of the natural cavern. perk could not repress an exclamation of mingled satisfaction and awe. "hot-diggetty-dig! but aint this jest grand?" he burst forth. "me always a feelin' a yearnin' inside to glimpse what yeou'd call a reg'lar cavern, like tom sawyer an' huck finn explored, daown on the bank o' the mississip; an' here she be like magic. say, this takes the cake, partner." "welcome to our new home, brother," laughed jack, but not hilariously; "and now to drop our packs so as to rest up." chapter xxv squatters' rights "yeou doan't reckon as haow anybody kin see a fire, if so be i started a little blaze back in here, do yeou, partner?" queried perk. jack knew how the other was fairly itching just to feel the warmth of a genuine campfire, under such extraordinary conditions, and hence shook his head. "not a chinaman's chance, buddy--too many crooks in the passage we took getting here. the wood i fetched in lies just back of you; and besides, a fire will save my battery, which means a heap. go to it then, and get busy." accordingly perk lost no time in carrying out his cherished plan, for he had always vowed himself to be a "reg'lar cat o' a fire-worshipper;" so, the match having been applied they were treated to a generous glow that revealed much more plainly the character of the wonderful cavern. later on the investigating perk discovered that another fissure, shaped somewhat like a regular tunnel, led away from the central cavern, and sloped downward. his mind seemed to still follow up that mark twain idea, for he had no sooner taken a good survey at the passage entrance than he gave jack a shrewd look, and followed this up by saying ingenuously: "huh! if i didn't know we was a heap o' miles away from the ole mississip i'd be 'clined to swear this must be the gen-u-ine cave tom and huck knocked 'raound in the time they found all that lost treasure. but i wonder--" "what do you wonder, perk?" "struck me that mebbe aour ole friend, that silvertip bear, might have his den somewhere 'bout in the rocks; an' where'd he run 'cross a better place to hole up fur the winter than right here! say, mebbe i wouldn't hate to run smack on the ugly critter while we was a explorin' some o' the tunnels an' passages that lead outen this here central chamber? they kinder give these here grizzlies a reputation fur havin' long memories, jest like elephants do; an' i bet yeou a cookey he aint never agoin' to furget little gabe perkiser, what throwed a match into his hair, an' set him afire." but jack did not appear to have such a lively imagination as his comrade, for he shook his head in the negative, and tried to soothe the anxious perk. "i hardly think there's any chance for such a nasty happening, buddy," he assured the other; "though i do reckon the old chap'd never forget you, after receiving such scurvy treatment at your hands. some time later we'll take a look in at that same passage--these caves in the mountains often turn out to run for a mile or more, twisting and turning, to come out it may be close to the starting point, even in the shape of another fissure." "say, i'd like that same trick, i'm atellin' yeou, jack, boy. 'sides, bein' partial to caves o' all kinds an' species i'm also given to explorin' queer places--got me into heaps o' trouble in my kid days, which same makes me laugh to remember. but tell me some more things yeou thunk up, or seen, while i was aout wrastlin' fur grub." jack looked at him in a peculiar way that caused perk to wonder what he was about to spring upon him. "remember my telling you about that cook chap they've got, waiting on them, and all that, perk?" "sure do, him with the s'posed to be white _chef's_ cap--was he any different from the general run--cook, crook, seems to me they sorter hitch like they might be first cousins." "there was something that seemed familiar about him, but it was only later in the day i managed to glimpse a better look at the fellow, when the sun shone full on his moniker; then it flashed on me who he was." "hold on there, partner, i jest hopes yeou ain't agoin' to inform me he's yet another galoot i useter know--seems like that nat tucker, added to aour ole friend, slippery slim, might be enough former 'quaintances to meet up with in sech a nest o' flim-flam artists an' crooks." "well, i think you told me once you'd never known this party; but i had, and only a short time back i told you more or less about him. it was in washington i used to run along with him in my work." "wait up, partner--go slow 'til i ketches my breath. yeou ain't agoin' to stagger me by sayin' that this here cook might be _him_?" "just what i mean, perk." "simeon--simeon balderson?" "no other, brother, undoubtedly a prisoner, and being made to serve that miserable gang of hoodlums in a menial capacity, partly to humble him, and give them plenty of chances to throw mean jibes at him as the representative of the service they hate so much. it's the irony of fate, if ever such a thing could be." "dead certain be yeou, jack?" the other nodded in the affirmative, adding: "he must have been badly injured in the scrap before he and his companion were knocked out, for he certainly never limped like that when i knew him, only a year or so back. possibly the second man may have been wiped out in the gun battle; though why they should spare simeon's life is a puzzle to me; but some day we'll understand, since i wouldn't think of going away from here and leaving him in the hands of those human tigers." "shake on that same, ole hoss; i'm with yeou every time, 'cause it means we're agoin' to have some mighty stiff work on aour hands 'fore we kin send a ball daown in each alley, an' make a clean sweep o' the duck-pins; an' that's the dizzy game i sure likes most." there was really nothing like brag about what perk said, as his comrade knew full well; in the past he had seen perk put up a grand fight, and never could forget how he slashed, and cut, and struck home with any old weapon he chanced to have in his hands, until a clean swathe had been cut through the ranks of their foes. he always appeared to be a little ashamed of having lost his head, and striking blind, excusing himself under the plea that he must have been in a bit of a "tailspin." "here we can stay, perk, without running much risk of being discovered; for i hardly imagine any of those chaps would bother exercising themselves to try and find out what the country around their happy valley looks like." "huh! i kinder guess not any," remarked the skeptical perk, with a look akin to disgust on his face; "they're a heap too lazy to move, 'cept to come to their three meals a day when off duty, and kept in camp. same men when on a raid robbin' some border bank; holdin' up a train; or nice healthy jobs like that, kin act like a pack o' half starved locoed wolves." "i was just thinking," continued jack, who seemed never to lose a point worth considering, "that perhaps we'd better make sure our eats are kept secure. such places as this cavern would be attractive dens for foxes, and such predatory varmints, who'd like nothing better than to steal every scrap of food we've got; which would be a serious thing, i'd allow." "wall, i kinder guess it sure _would_, by hokey!" exclaimed perk, quickly aroused, as the danger loomed along the line of possible starvation, "an' it ain't agoin' to happen either, if i have to stick 'raound all night long. grub an' me air the best o' friends; an' i'd go a long way to defend sech a good pal." "hardly be so serious as that, buddy," advised jack, seeing how his suggestion had awakened lively fears in his companion's breast. "plenty of loose stuff lying around in here, so we'll just _cache_ our food supplies, by covering the pile with a heavy weight no beast could budge." "yeou said it, partner, an' i'll take a look 'raound till i kin pick aout the best place to build aour fort. watch my smoke, jack, boy." it did not take him long to find what he sought, after which they speedily arranged things to suit their idea of security. "there she be," perk remarked, in a satisfied tone, as the job was finished. "if any red fox or kiote kin scratch his way under that stack o' dornicks i'll eat my hat--an' ole dungarees in th' bargain. i ain't a luggin' good eats all the way from san diego, an' payin' aout lots o' coin fur the same, jest to make a holiday fur four-footed thieves." "both of us are dead for sleep, i reckon," ventured jack, as they lay on the rocky floor, perk indulging in the luxury of a pipe of his favorite turkish mixture for solace; "and perhaps we'd be wise to snatch a few hours while we may--we're up against a pretty hard proposition, and there's no telling just what lies ahead of us. how about it, perk?" "shucks! i'm willin' enuff to lay off; an' mebbe naow i ain't glad i done fetched them two woolen blankets along as we had on aour cots aboard the ship. they sure helped to make up a fine load; but right naow they'll be wuth all they cost me on the hike." "and i'll bless your long-sightedness in thinking of our comfort," jack hastened to assure him. "bare rocks like these are hardly in the same class with a good spring bed, and plenty of covers. we'll skip some sore bones because of having these to tuck under us, perk." "i hate to let the bully fire die down," perk presently observed, for he never was so happy as when sitting alongside a cheery blaze, puffing at his briarwood pipe, and watching the rings of smoke sail upward. "oh! it wouldn't do to try and keep it going all night," jack told him. "too little stuff for burning, and hard to tote in here. i'll keep my electric hand-torch close beside me, and if there's any occasion for lighting up the cavern i can do it in a jiffy." that seemed to ease perk's mind somewhat, for jack could plainly see the other was somewhat concerned regarding the possibility of their having an unwelcome visitor during the time they were resting from the fatigues of the past day. he watched perk making his preparations for retiring, and just as he anticipated the other was exceedingly careful to pick out a camping place as far removed from that mysterious passage leading out of the central cavern as he possibly could. of course the reason for his so doing was plainly manifest to jack--he could spell it in four letters--b-e-a-r--perk could not wholly dissuade himself that fate meant to play him a nasty trick, and bring him into close quarters with that ferocious monster, the silvertip, or as he was known along the mountains of the coast, "old eph." the distinct smell of burning hair still seemed to linger within reach of his olfactories, and give him a reproachful sensation, as though he felt he had taken a mean advantage of the beast. no such thought worried jack; but then the shadow of guilt did not hang over his head as was the case with perk. "don't forget to wind up your wrist-watch, buddy," warned jack, shortly afterwards; as perk still sat there on his blanket, keeping up his meditative puffing, as though he meant to see the fire to its last flickering extinction. "they're our only reliable guide to tell us when morning comes around. in this black cave we might lie dozing until the middle of the day, without knowing how we were sleeping at the switch, and wasting precious time." "hot-diggetty-dig! partner, haow yeou do jest think o' ever'thing. on'y fur yeou i'd be like a lost lamb awanderin' 'raound the countryside, bleatin', an' shiverin' fur fear the pesky wolves'd get me." "that'll do for you, buddy," jack sternly told him. "we've both got our several good and bad points; but we're essential to each other to make up a working team, six of one, and half a dozen of the other--now, don't let me hear you getting off any of that boloney stuff again, mind." "huh! yeou lets me daown too easy, partner; guess i know my shortcomings better'n anybody else; an' thinkin' ain't much o' a long suite with gabe, not at no time in hist'ry." "well, have it any way you like, perk; but i'm meaning to settle down for a nice nap. just call out if you want a light any old time, and i'll accommodate you before you can say jack robinson. so-long, and here's hoping we'll be able to get a move on before another night sets in." "i sure echoes that wish, boy," muttered perk, seriously; for he realized that they had undertaken one of the most troublesome tasks that could be placed to their credit; and would have need of all the good luck and breaks possible in order to come through. perk having set himself to what he considered a duty, would never let any trivial things deter him; and so he must have sat up with that declining fire until the very last feeble flicker expired; then rolling himself up in his blanket he sought relief in slumber. time went on, the night passed away, and there was not a solitary alarm to give perk a thrill. both of them were very tired, and must have slept soundly, for the first thing perk knew jack turned the dazzling light of his little torch full on his face, arousing him, and then remarked quietly: "time we were stirring, partner--i figure the dawn has got around, when we can start doing things." chapter xxvi a back door to the valley a hasty breakfast was eaten, washed down with a few swigs of cold liquid refreshment, which the ever obliging perk had fetched up in a bottle taken from the ship for the purpose, and filled with coffee from their gallon thermos jug. thus the adventurous pair felt well braced for whatever duties the new day had in store for them. "we'll divide our force for the morning," suggested jack, knowing only too well his chum would take his words in the way of a command, for he occupied the position of leader, and perk was only too willing to accede to each and every suggestion his mate advanced. "jest so, partner," perk instantly commented; "an' what air yeou agoin' to pass on to me, i wanter know?" jack picked up the glasses, and handed them to the other. "you're a vidette on the lookout this morning, buddy," he explained. "up in our old place you'll keep watch on the valley, to note everything that takes place, so you can pass it along to me. keep your eye particularly on those two figures whenever they're in sight--slippery slim garrabrant and the cook, whom i believe to be simeon balderson, a prisoner." "consider it done, ole hoss," perk went on to say, firmly. "yeou'll sure git a report o' all the doin's when we meet agin. anyways i got a purty good mem'ry, if i am short o' some things." "when noon comes by the sun, make your way back to the entrance of our cave, where i'll be waiting with my flashlight to fetch you in here. in the afternoon, possibly both of us will go on guard up above." "i notices, jack, as haow yeou allers say _down here_ when yeou mentions this cave; haow do yeou make that aout, partner?" "it's simple enough, perk, if you stop to remember how we kept descending more or less all the way from where we entered by means of that split in the rocks." perk wagged his head as if to acknowledge that was something absolutely true, even though he himself had not previously noted the fact. "partner, if so be it's jest the same to yeou, may i ask what line yeou goin' to foller while i'm on sentry duty--i likes to be posted, that's all?" "which is perfectly all right, perk; and i'll just say i expect to look around here a bit, and find out a few things that have struck me as possible, even if hardly probable. i'll give you the gist of what success i have in my prowling around when we are taking a snack at noon." "i git yeou, jack, an' it's all to the good with me every time." jack chuckled, for he had noticed the quick and significant glance his comrade shot across the cavern toward that yawning opening marking the tunnel-like passage perk had held in such suspicion just before they wrapped up in their blankets and sought forgetfulness of their troubles. just the same jack did not undertake to explain what he had in mind; it was his usual habit to make his investigations first, and follow up with explanations afterwards, when he had figured things out, and proven his point sound. he convoyed perk close to the opening where the fissure split the rocky wall--here after a laconic "so-long" they separated, and jack retraced his way back along the winding passage. perk again climbed the hill until he was able to creep back of those friendly scrub bushes. here he could lie flat on his stomach, and cautiously survey pretty much all of the wonderful valley spread out before him like a genuine panorama. thus he spent all of the morning, occasionally changing his position when finding that his limbs were becoming more or less cramped. during this time perk was busily storing his mind with dozens of incidental happenings down in the camp of the fugitive criminals, banded together for preying on the forces of law and order, which they held in contempt in carrying out their occasional forays, with defenceless banks, or unprotected trains carrying united states registered-mail sacks, as the objects of their special regard. he thus saw the outlaws' patched-up airplane make an ascent, and head off toward the southeast, rising to pass over the lofty peaks lying in that general direction many miles distant. "kinder guess as haow jack he'll be some int'rested in what i kin tell him 'bout the little cargo they stored in the crazy ole cabin o' thet crate, all right," perk was muttering to himself, while he watched the ship growing less and less distinct, as it soared through a fleecy cloud, and began to look very much like some distant buzzard, or vulture. "'less i'm way off in my figgerin' them three packages might a been the last printin' o' bogus bank notes they was asendin' aout to ther agents in some cities daown texas way. didn't i read in the papers on'y a short time ago, that there never was knowed to be sech a raft o' bad money in the country 'long the rio grande; an' sech good imitations o' uncle sam's genu-ine currency it faized the bank tellers to pick it aout. 'baout time i'd say we got busy, an' stopped up the hole in the dam, 'fore the hull kentry was flooded with the stuff." he knew when it was getting close to noon by the clamor arising down where he lived, and after that kept a close watch on the glowing sun. finally, when the time seemed fully ripe, perk started to creep away, arriving promptly at the fissure, to have jack show himself, and beckon him to come on in. back in the central cavern they built a little fire, in order to save the precious battery of jack's hand-torch; and seated close together proceeded to again lower the stock of eatables. "by close economy we ought to have enough grub to carry us through a couple of days after this one," jack observed, while they were munching what was intended to be a mere lunch; perk announcing his intention of doing a little cooking at their later evening meal, he having fetched along a pound of sliced bacon, a few raw potatoes, and some onions, to which latter he admitted being very partial. "sorry we ain't got any coffee up here," he said, a bit sadly; "but it stands to reason yeou jest caint 'spect everythin' when yeou're on the trail o' bad gunmen like we air right naow. i ain't kickin', remember, jack, ole man." presently, when they had about finished their frugal lunch jack asked his companion to make his report. this perk did, giving many different suggestive happenings that he had noted in rotation, and emphasizing his words at certain points. "you've done a good job, perk," the other assured him, when the end of the story was reached. "in lots of ways what you're reporting strengthens our previous convictions--there can be no possible doubt about the cook being our fellow worker, simeon; and so it goes without saying that when we kick out of here its got to be with two others in our company--slippery slim, and simeon." "that's okay with me, partner," agreed perk, eagerly; "an' we'll keep on deck in this here nest o' snakes 'til we kin put the game through--no matter if we gotter go withaout a bite o' chow fur a hull week--kinder guess i kin stand it as long as yeou kin." "nothing else you noticed, partner?" queried jack. "on'y that the ole crate she skipped off 'bout a hour after i settled daown back o' them nice bushes," came the ready reply; after which perk went on to describe how the man they knew as slippery slim seemed to be so careful of the several packages, and the leather bag he handed over to the pilot of the plane; and which perk was so dead certain must contain the latest printing of notes off the press they could sometimes hear rumbling down at one of the cabins, in and out of which some of the men were so frequently passing. this additional information seemed to please the listening jack exceedingly, to judge from the way he nodded his head, and smiled knowingly. "things are breaking for us, i'd say, buddy," he told his mate, to the other's satisfaction; "and by slow degrees we'll carry on, step by step, until one of these nights we can explode our bomb, and play the game to a finish. but it happens that you haven't got a monopoly of the good news." "hully gee! then yeou been a nosin' 'raound this queer hole back o' the cliff, an' mebbe run acrost somethin' wuth knowin', eh, what, partner?" "just what i have, perk--i started in to explore the black, tunnel-like passage that you kept your eye on last evening." "say, doant tell me yeou run acrost that big hill-billy o' a grizzly, jack?" "you're a bad guesser, matey," he was assured; and then jack added: "found that the passage kept dropping down all the time; and in the end i came to another fissure, with broad daylight ahead--then looked out into the valley; and found i was only some twenty feet from the bottom of the big ditch, perk!" chapter xxvii pike's peak, or----bust! when jack made this dramatic announcement perk manifested such supreme astonishment, coupled with delight, that his eyes looked as if they would jump out of his head. he reached over and clutched the other's hand, which he proceeded to squeeze unmercifully, as he burst out: "hot-diggetty-dig! but _did_ yeou ever hear o' sech great luck in all yeour born days? why, it seems like there might be a back door to the hole-in-the-wall, after all; which mebbe nary a single boob in the bunch has ever discovered!" "i figured it all out while down there, and peeking," jack continued to explain; "and felt certain what you are saying was absolutely true. you see the fissure lies high up on the wall, and there seems to be a narrow slanting shelf running down nearly to the bottom, where green grass is growing that would hide a trail of footsteps wonderfully, if we decided to drop into the valley while night lasted, and investigate; possibly get in touch with friend simeon." "great stuff yeou're a givin' me partner; looks like ever'thing might be arunnin' for a fall with them tough guys. they're so dead sure nawthin' kin reach aout an' git 'em, they trust to dumb luck, an' lays 'raound puttin' on layers o' fat, playin' keerds an' agamblin' away sech cash as they got in the divide-up arter the last scoop." "let's hope fortune will keep on smiling, perk; but just the same we'll keep our wits sharpened, and let no opportunity for making a point pass us by." "huh! guess naow as haow yeou mean we gotter to trust in the lord, but keep aour powder dry; like the ole pilgrim fathers uster do in colonial days,--as i've read in hist'ry." "exactly," concurred jack, to add, as though he could not quite get over the great satisfaction his latest discovery gave him: "but look at the advantage we now have, being able, as i think is certain, to go and come in and out of the valley, without any one being the wiser." "jest so, jack, we doant need to try an' slip past the sentry we reckoned was on duty at the narrer pass--kinder got my goat wonderin' haow in tarnation we was agoin' to chuck _him_ overboard when the time kim along. naow we needn't bother headin' thataway, 'less we wanted to keep them boobs plugged up inside the big hole. doant furgit i fetched along some bombs that cud do the trick, an' mebbe blow up that ere pass sky-high, makin' a reg'lar jumble o' things which they couldn't climb over, it might be." "not a bad idea at all, brother," jack told him, with an admiring look. "when it comes to doing _big_ things, especially with all kinds of bombs, (even to mustard and the tear sort) you take the cake. wait until we get our final plan going, and we'll see what can be done to give them a great scare. with their leader missing, and the entrance to their valley fort laid in ruins, i reckon they'd cut and run for it, thinking uncle sam would now send a force by air ship to round them up." "gosh amighty! but things _do_ look good to me, partner," perk could not help saying again, with his face wreathed in smiles. "well, i'm first meaning to take you down through that passage, and let you have a glimpse out through the second fissure in the cliff. i'd like to make certain, if we dared take the risk, that the sloping little trail is safe enough to let us creep down, and come up again, in case we decided to try and get in touch with simeon this very night!" "wow! that same 'peals to me like all get-aout, partner. le's shake a foot right away an' _go_," was perk's energetic appeal, as he got to his feet, primed for fresh adventure and discoveries--always ready to "do things." accordingly jack led the way into the hole in the wall, his little hand-electric torch lighting up the passage, so there was no risk of either of them stumbling when they "took a chance," as perk would say. later on, after they had arrived at the terminus of the down-grade, jack whispered directions in his chum's ear, and started him off to take his first view of the valley floor from that lower level. perk was extra careful not to expose even his nose, in securing this thrilling survey, and came back fairly bubbling over with excitement, also enthusiasm. they sat there within sight of the daylight streak, talking in whispers, and exchanging comments on the situation. afterwards they both crept forward, and commenced a careful survey, even to poking out a head when it seemed judicious and safe to do so. "perhaps," suggested wise jack, after a while, "we'd better get busy at the old stand, where it's easy to watch everything that goes on in the enclosed valley. i want to fix the points so carefully in my mind, that i could move around in the blackest night, and keep clear of the different huts and shacks." "you would--that's right," commented perk, firm believer that he was in his best pal's ability to carry on where most other men must give up, and seek help; "any feller what could fly blind through the worst sea o' fog that ever was seen, kin do like he had cat's eyes, an' could see things in the pitch dark." "you rate me much too high, brother; if i'm any judge you've got far better vision for distances than i ever boasted. but it's always been one of my pet schemes to build up my memory by what you might call a brain photograph that i can depend on to give me my points when in a fog, or the blackness of midnight. but come on, let's be moving upwards again, perk." before another half hour had expired they were once more crouching back of their friendly brush screen, and taking turns in making good use of the powerful binoculars. "lucky thing, jack, we didn't leave these here bully glasses behind by mistake when we fixed to start on this same little jaunt an' adventure," perk was saying, almost under his breath, as he handed the object in question to his companion, making each movement slowly, so as to keep from attracting attention to the top of the high cliff. "that could never happen to us, brother," jack told him, with conviction in his tones; "because wherever we go in our task of getting some particular man the government wants badly, these same glasses are worth their weight in solid gold--don't make any mistake about that, partner." "huh! i'd say six times over, they air, mister. 'member haow we used 'em daown there in florida, when chasin' after them wind-jammer planes the smugglers were usin' to fetch in all kinds o' stuff that didn't pay any duty--hard booze, diamonds, even yaller chinks what was willin' to set up the long green flimsies so's to get a footin' on u. s. a. soil. they helped us kerry aout aour plans jest fine." the long afternoon slowly passed, and as evening drew on apace jack was ready to call it a full day. "i'm loaded for bear, as they say, perk," he announced, showing signs of giving up the lookout, with the gathering of shadows far down below in the long valley. "i mean by that i fancy i've got all my bearings down pat, and couldn't better the same no matter how much time i spent." "gosh all hemlock! partner, does that same mean we kin get started this very night to make contact with simeon?" demanded the duly thrilled perk, backing out on hands and knees from his covert. "why waste any more time when there's no need?" jack told him. "a bad spell of weather might come along to knock our plans silly; or perhaps these chaps down yonder might have some scheme that would take them pretty much all away on a big lay. we couldn't play our hands if the man we want so badly has gone off with his crowd, to hold up some bank, or treasure train, could we? so while the stars hold out to shine up in the sky, and things seem to be fairly quiet with that mob, we'll see what luck we have. i've got it figured out that simeon must sleep in that dun-colored army tent close to the cookhouse, and dining hall; so that's bound to be our main objective tonight, after we land in the valley." "huh! only thing i got to worryin' 'bout, partner, is _dawgs_," said perk, with a particular emphasis on the last word. "yes, i know they seem to have several bow-wows in the settlement; but as a rule they're common riffraff stuff--never a sign of a police dog, or collie; so we needn't anticipate any trouble from such measly mutts, only good to play with, or gnaw a bone. so let's figure we're going to make connections with simeon tonight, if it's any way possible, or know the reason why." "yeah!" perk added joyously, "pike's peak--or bust, it is--make it unanimous ev'rybody." chapter xxviii invading the tigers' lair having thus decided to begin work that same night, naturally jack and his best pal were more or less concerned as to what the weather promised. as aviators they had become accustomed to securing the very latest government report as to the probabilities ahead, so that by now this had become a habit. the knowledge that there was a strong likelihood of a dense fog along their proposed route--perhaps signs of a war of the elements, not only put them doubly on their guard, but often proved of value in meeting and overcoming the threatening danger. in this instance they had no weather sharp to give them a clue, founded on late wires from different points, as to the velocity of the wind, its direction, the chances of snow or rain, perhaps electrical disturbances in the bargain--now everything must depend on their own ability to figure things out through taking note of the heavens, and kindred storm indicators. jack was a fair weather prophet himself, though never so bold as to claim absolute perfection; yes, and perk too prided himself on knowing considerable, also able to tell when any severe upset was in the offing--though it must be confessed he was rather inclined to depend on an aching corn, or some sort of queer itching in his joints, to be able to prophesy a sudden change in prevailing conditions. so they studied the sky, noted the passage of certain types of clouds, as well as several other heralds of the weather in prospect; and finally agreed that, unless something came along to materially affect matters, they could reasonable expect quite a lengthy spell of seasonable weather. at any rate the fact that both reached the same conclusion was looked upon as promising double insurance--several days would surely see them through their big job, and that was all they asked. accordingly, having settled that part of the arrangement, they started for their underground retreat, feeling that thus far everything seemed to be working in their interest. perk was looking wonderfully pleased, and jack could give a good guess just why this should be so. it had been arranged that on this fateful evening, when their mission was on the eve of taking a fresh spurt, perk was to be permitted to actually _cook a meal_--such as the camp larder allowed. he had asked his comrade concerning the possibility of the odors betraying their hiding place; and jack told him there was not one chance in a hundred of such a thing coming about. "already you've been smoking in our cave, and the odor of your tobacco must have floated out to the open air; but from what we've learned no one ever comes up this way--those lazy panhandlers down there wouldn't bother themselves to scout around. so its perfectly safe to fry your bacon, and even make coffee--if you've got any sort of a vessel to contain the same." "jest leave all that to little perk, senor jack," the other told him, in half suppressed excitement; "i'm the lad as kin sling the hash to beat the band. my innards air yellin' fur a gen-u-ine hot meal, 'cause cold stuff doant seem to touch the spot. git ready to give yeour tummy a treat fur a change." they were back in the cavern when this little discussion took place; and no sooner had a decision been reached than perk commenced his preparations; jack meantime busying himself with pencil and paper, figuring out certain little problems connected with their programme for the night. later on jack began to lift his head, and turn anxious glances toward his busy comrade, meanwhile sniffing the atmosphere, and faintly _smiling_--when a healthy young man, accustomed to feeding on first-class chow, day in and day out, is forced by reason of unusual circumstances to partaking--in limited quantities at that--of cold meals, with an extremely minute bill of fare in the bargain, naturally when once again catching the appetizing whiff of frying rashers of prime bacon, also sliced potatoes; and above all the thrilling odor of boiling java coffee, how could he help displaying his joy at the prospect of such a coming treat? the realization was quite as good as the anticipation, only it must be confessed that when they had dutifully scraped the pan absolutely clean, and squeezed out the last drop of the ambrosia perk had brewed in some sort of a hobo empty quart fruit-can, that chanced to be aboard their ship, neither of them felt filled to capacity. "never mind," jack remarked, observing the rueful expression on his chum's face, and watching him rubbing his stomach, as if to show how far from being distended it was; "the _sample_ was extra fine. just hold your horses until we get back to town, and then the sky is the limit. get that, pard?" "thanks, awfully, jack, ole hoss; i'm agoin' to live on promises fur a short spell; but oh! baby, aint the fur bound to fly when i get workin' my jaws reg'lar onct again?" after that they lay around and waited, for a certain length of time must elapse before it would be safe to start operations. perk asked numerous questions, since as usual certain matters seemed a bit hazy in his mind, never as speedy as that of jack to grasp things. despite these breaks the time hung heavily on their hands, for careful jack refused to pay any heed to all the long sighs that welled up from perk's heart, with the object of hastening the decision. finally, when the impatient one was writhing as if actually in pain, jack took compassion on him. "i reckon we might just as well make a break, buddy; once down at the outlet we can do the balance of our loafing, until it looks safe for us to start. that ought to be well along toward midnight, all depending how soon those noisy card players break up, and hit the hay." earlier in the evening there had been considerable loud talking, calling, and singing among the confederated fugitives; but already much of this was stilled. a number of them, however, seemed to be gathered in the dining hall, gambling--these evidently were the lucky players; those who had already turned in the ones who had in previous bouts been cleaned out, and must hold themselves in check until another foray had been carried out, with fresh plunder divided up among the members of the lawless community. lying there at the crevice that formed a back door to their wonderful cave, the two sky detectives listened, and whispered to each other; meanwhile keeping a close watch on the big log-cabin, where lights could be seen through an opening serving as one of the rude windows, destitute of glass, and closed in cold weather with wooden shutters. "when the last game is played out," jack was saying under his breath, for they were not so far removed from the rough shack in question that talking in ordinary tones would be exceedingly risky; "it's the habit of simeon as sexton and cook of the central ranch, to shut up shop, turn out the lamp and then limp around to the tent where he sleeps, a pretty tired man i'd say. we want to be on hand to give him the tip that strangers are inside the barricades of the valley. then, when he knows who's come to his assistance we can start to make up our plans for the big break." "yeou doant kinder guess simeon he might give us away in his excitement, eh, partner?" perk asked, anxiously, always scenting trouble, it seemed. "not on your life, partner," jack assured him. "simeon has been in the service for a good many years, and learned to control his emotions, no matter what happens. you'll not hear a whisper from his lips when we speak his name--i'd stake anything on that." presently, from indications they believed the last three men had emerged from the dining hall; some one was moving about within, which jack felt certain must be the prisoner who had been forced to play the part of general servant, possibly to humiliate him for his attempt to break up the gang. "it's time we moved along," whispered jack, with which remark he crawled out upon the little ledge, and commenced the rather hazardous task of backing down the incline, each movement being executed with extreme care. it turned out just as they had anticipated, for the sloping ledge kept on to the level of the valley bed, although it must have been next to impossible for any one to distinguish its presence from the level ground. jack led the way, and they were close to the tent, when the last light vanished in the big cabin near by. presently, just as jack had figured with such exactness, a dim figure came slowly around the corner, almost colliding with the crouching pair. chapter xxix all ready for the grand blowout "simeon!" perk held his breath in awe as his pal whispered that one word. an answering voice, very, very low, came back, asking a question; and in another second jack was squeezing the groping hand of the duly thrilled prisoner of the outlaw's hidden retreat. it was considered much too risky for them to remain there, and try to engage in explanations; so jack took the other in tow, and led him over to the foot of the mighty cliff, with perk trailing in. so well taken had jack's calculations been that he hit the exact spot at which the descending slope of rock ended amidst the green grass. in whispers he explained what must be done in order to gain a secure place where they might converse without incurring any risk. with jack leading the way, and perk acting as a buffer in the rear, to prevent the rather unsteady simeon, trembling in every limb from extreme excitement, from falling off the narrow and treacherous ledge, they all managed to presently gain the passage leading to the big central cavern. here they sat down, and a brisk conversation followed between jack and simeon--after perk had been duly introduced to the captive service man. without going into too many details everything was told by jack, to account for the presence of himself and partner in the tigers' den amidst the mountains. then in his turn simeon briefly sketched the mishap in connection with the discovery of himself and companion; sadly admitting that his fellow worker had been shot down and killed in the battle although combined they had diminished the roll-call of the tough gangsters by one bad man slain, and two wounded. "i was myself seriously shot in the left leg," he went on to say; "and undoubtedly would have been tortured, and put to death by those fiends, they hate and despise secret service men so much, only for one thing--slippery slim garrabrant chances to be a brother-in-law of mine--nothing to be proud of, and of which i've never boasted, you may be certain. we married sisters, both of whom have since passed on. he has no love for me, but showed a streak of decency, i must admit, in sparing my life, although letting the gang make me its general servant, and cook. still, things might have been worse with me, and i'm not complaining. i reckoned the chief would do something to learn just what had become of poor ross and myself; but never believed i'd get out of this sweet mess alive." they talked, and conspired for a full hour, when simeon declared it was time he left these new-found allies. some one might happen to come to his tent on an errand, for he served as doctor as well as cook; and thus discover his absence. it was arranged that he come again to the crevice in the cliff the following night, when they could go deeper into the bold scheme jack had suggested, and which appeared to meet with his hearty approval; for he turned out to be just the same type of man as jack ralston himself, a believer in daring and aggressive work. perk managed to explain how short of provisions they chanced to be, and to his extreme delight simeon accommodatingly promised to fetch some eatables with him when he joined them on the following night. after that the pair retraced their steps along the passage, being able, thanks to jack's flashlight, to fight shy of all impediments such as loose stones, and pitfalls that might have given them a bad half hour, had they attempted to proceed in the darkness. again they tried to get some sleep, and jack, who was able to control his feelings better than his mate, succeeded admirably; but perk, more excitable, only secured what he called "cat-naps," being awake a good deal of the night. the following day they spent much as before. perk again trailed down to where the camouflaged airship lay under its covering of evergreens. he took back a few things they were not apt to need, and yet which they disliked leaving behind, once they quitted the neighborhood of the valley; but his main object was to make certain the plane was safe, and in condition for a quick take-off in case such became a necessity, as was likely. jack on his part added materially to his knowledge of things, and in a fashion touched up portions of his intended programme, to be carried out whenever simeon, who could best know, told them conditions looked most promising. much to perk's relief simeon did not fail them; and then, too, he brought a promising bit of plunder in the shape of provisions, which came from the commissary of the settlement, and of which he held the key. another hour of talk followed, and further details of their great plan were discussed. simeon assured them the opportunity for which they waited was certain to arrive on the following night, so they must make all preparations to put their confidence to the test and expect to quit the game, it was to be hoped with a victory set down to their credit. on the following day a party of the marauders planned to set out on a most important raid, that promised unusually great plunder. slim garrabrant could not accompany them that particular time, having injured his right arm so that he must be unsteady in the saddle; which fact jack observed virtually cinched the plan they had been arranging. if all went well, after the party had gone forth, simeon before dark would as if by chance throw a red cloth on top of the big cabin; which would be a signal that the coast was clear, and everything ready for their working scheme. when the following day came along, perk was for the third time dispatched along his former trail down the mountain-side. this time he carried quite a load on his strong back; for, as they anticipated not having to spend another night in the tom sawyer cave--perk always called it by that suggestive name that carried him back to his own boyhood dreaming, and reading--he was taking pretty much all the things he had toted up the ascent shortly before, so they could be safely stowed away in the airship's cabin. everything thus far had gone along like clockwork--if only there was no slip after they had started their attempt to take slim prisoner, the chances for a regular old-fashioned cleanup looked bright, perk kept telling himself. he got back to jack's side in due time, with nothing transpiring calculated to breed trouble. they ate their last meal in the cave, and then passing down to their secret exit, waited for the time to come when they could translate planning into action, and endeavor to bring about a successful windup of their mission. chapter xxx the end of robbers' roost----conclusion looking back when all this was but a memory, it must always seem like a dream to perk. everything moved along smoothly as if in grooves. they joined the waiting simeon alongside the big cabin, and he led them to the hut which slim occupied by himself, because of his being the acknowledged leader and "high-muck-a-muck"--as perk always had it--of the outlaw league. they took the occupant completely by surprise, and a smart blow on the head kept him still until they could secure his arms, and fasten a cloth over his mouth to prevent his giving the alarm. then he was hustled outside, and with jack on one side and simeon on the other convoyed as noiselessly as possible to the mouth of the valley, and the narrow pass. perk had vanished for the time being, but joined them about the time they reached their objective, acting as though secretly pleased over something he had just carried out. jack had a suspicion as to its character, having heard the other muttering certain threats that were aimed at the miserable but useful old ship, manipulated by the counterfeiters in bringing in supplies, and distributing the result of their latest printing. the next thing on the program was to overcome the sentry just beyond the outer end of the narrow cleft, where the walls lifted themselves hundreds of feet above the passage in to the valley. this was accomplished by jack himself, unaided--he crept up behind the dozing man, dealt him a blow on the head, and tumbled him in a heap. thus their way was cleared, and they could proceed to the place where their ship awaited their coming. "gimme me jest five minits, fellers," perk besought the others; whereupon jack fell upon the senseless vidette and dragged him some distance away--it was an act of mercy, since the man must have been killed otherwise, when perk completed his little arrangement; for it had been settled between jack and himself that, in order to convince these tough lawbreakers they could no longer depend on their hole-in-the-wall to hide them from those who were ever on their trail, the overhanging walls of the pass must be brought down in a heap of ruins, that would forever choke all entrance and exit in and out of the valley. "all set, jack--she's fixed, an' goin' like wildfire--let's clear out _pronto_, 'fore she gets busy!" perk was crying, in some little excitement. as they moved hurriedly off there came the loud sound of an explosion from within the cliff encircled valley. "that's on'y the little bomb i stuck under that rattletrap airship to send it in the wust wreck ever," explained perk, he kept looking back while trailing the others. loud yells and whoops reached them from within the barrier. showing how those of the gangsters left behind were expressing their astonishment and alarm at such an unheard of happening in their midst. "huh! that ain't jest _nawthin'_ to what--" but what perk intended to say was drowned in a most terrific explosion, that made the rocky surface of the earth under their feet quiver like an animal in its death throes. a vivid sheet of flame darted upwards--then there came a sickening crash after crash as if the whole mountain were toppling down, with fragments falling for half a minute after. fortunately they were far enough away by that time to escape any possible damage. simeon in particular seemed to be deliriously happy; it was as though in this utter destruction of the robber roost he found solace for the death of his late companion; also all the insults and indignities to which he himself had been subjected at the hands of those tough gunmen. reaching the ship they went aboard. then came the last critical act of the moving drama--getting the big plane safely launched with such difficulties to contend with. but, as if to add a finishing touch to jack ralston's usual luck--also due in great part to his skill, and efficiency--this hazard was safely passed, the launching followed by their thrilling climb into the air spaces, with unlimited possibilities awaiting their choice of a route. apparently, as perk was saying to himself, it was "all over but the shouting;" and he imagined there had been quite enough of that when the startled inmates of the blocked valley heard that dreadful thunderous sound typifying the collapse of the organization of defiant lawbreakers clever slim garrabrant had built up, partly to show his contempt for uncle sam's thief catchers. slim, by the way, after he had recovered from the blow received at the time of his surprise, and capture, exhibited an utter indifference as to what became of him. he even laughed, as if absolutely free from any concern; and joked with perk as the airship raced through illimitable space, declaring it was one thing to nab him, and a horse of another color to hold him. "bet you three to one you two boys will have your same old job to do over again before six months have gone into the discard," he shouted, humorously; but perk only grinned, and shook his head; at the same time wondering if the rest of their lives were really to be taken up with chasing after this slippery customer, and curbing his pernicious activities. having the whole day ahead of them, jack did not mean to put his cherished aircraft to its best licks--plenty of time; and actually he dreaded receiving the anticipated thanks and compliments from the big boss over at the washington headquarters; in which jack surely differed vastly from most men of his dangerous calling, who would be only too willing to stand in his shoes. after delivering their prisoner, just as jolly and unconcerned as ever, over to the federal officials at los angeles, jack and perk headed for san diego, the latter wild with an eagerness to "fill up to capacity" at their beloved restaurant. they carried simeon along with them, having a spare cot in their room to which he was more than welcome, for a day or two, until an answer came to his wire to headquarters, ordering him doubtless to report, and tell his dramatic story in person, after which he would be given a vacation to fully recover his broken health. jack had a purpose in this besides the wish to see more of a man whom he respected so much. he had heard simeon say that he and slim garrabrant had married sisters, both of whom were no longer on this earth. this had set jack to speculating, concerning the old lady named mrs. ferguson, grandmother to the handsome little boy whom he and perk--principally perk--had saved from the cruel fangs of a mad dog, as narrated in the early pages of this book. he introduced the subject by asking simeon if he would like to hear where they had picked up some kind of a clue covering slim garrabrant; and upon the other eagerly saying he certainly did, there followed the brief story of the strange adventure of main street, in one of san diego's suburbs. when he spoke of their discovering the picture of slim on the wall of that cottage, and incidentally mentioned the old lady, simeon was greatly shaken. he clutched jack by the arm, perk staring open-mouthed, not quite understanding the drift of things--and in broken language begged him to tell some more--what about the old lady--did they know her name--and was it mrs. leonore ferguson; and what of the lad--was he apparently in good health? "i'm asking you jack, because he is _my own_, my beloved little walter, the only legacy my dear wife left me to remember her by, when she passed away. there was a fire in the building where they lived, something like a year and a half ago; and hunt as i would i never could get a trace of my dear ones. to think that, not content with saving my own life, you two should be the means of my being once more reunited with all i have in the world! take me to see them without delay, if only you will, and i shall never, never cease to bless both you gallant comrades." inside of an hour he had his boy pressed close to his heart, and even perk who sometimes liked to call himself a "hard-boiled guy," turned away to wipe the unbidden tears from his cheeks. of course in due time they heard from headquarters, with more or less words of high praise, such as seldom spring from such offices where uncle sam's secret service agents do their business without expectation of anything more than routine acknowledgment. they were given quite an extensive holiday until there came up another knotty problem which might be submitted to their solving. that such _did_ come along sooner than expected can be understood by the title of the story following this, viz: "_flying the coast skyways_," or, "_jack ralston's swift patrol_." the end ------------------------------------------------------------------------ all american sport series by harold m. sherman harold m. sherman, one of the most popular authors of boys' books needs no introduction to the vast majority of young readers. to boys who like, as every red-blooded boy must, these high type sport stories, we dedicate this series. football interference football it's a pass! football over the line basketball under the basket ice hockey down the ice base ball strike him out tennis the tennis terror the goldsmith publishing co. new york ------------------------------------------------------------------------ books for boys * * * * * the go ahead boys series _by_ ross kay "be sure you're right, then go ahead," was the advice old davy crockett left for succeeding generations and here is presented a series of rattling good adventure stories which every live "go ahead" boy will read with unflagging interest. there is action, dash and snap in every tale. on smuggler's island in the island camp the treasure cave the racing motor mysterious old house simon's mine * * * * * the musket boys series _by_ george a. warren here is a fine series for every boy who loves his country. these stories make you feel as if you were living through the strenuous revolutionary days from the beginning of the struggle at lexington and concord to the victorious conclusion of that historical conflict. the musket boys at old boston the musket boys under washington the musket boys on the delaware * * * * * the lend-a-hand boys series _by_ st. george rathborne companion books for boy scouts "the lend-a-hand boys"--a group of boys who stick together through thick and thin, through high adventure and scrapes. they are always trying to do some good and have a tough time doing so. each book is a complete story in itself. lend-a-hand boys of carthage lend-a-hand boys sanitary squad lend-a-hand boys team work lend-a-hand boys as wild game protectors the goldsmith publishing co. new york, n. y. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the outdoor chums s e r i e s _by_ captain quincy allen * * * * * the outdoor chums on the lake in the forest on the gulf after big game on a house boat in the big woods at cabin point * * * * * for lovers of the great outdoors (and what boy is not?) this "outdoor chums" series will be a rare treat. after you have read the first book and followed the fortunes of the "chums," you will realize the pleasure the other seven volumes have in store for you. these rollicking lads know field, forest, mountain, sea and stream--and the books contain much valuable information on woodcraft and the living of an outdoor life. * * * * * the goldsmith publishing co. new york, n. y. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ books for boys * * * * * the tim murphy series by graham m. dean graham m. dean is a newspaper editor. he lives and knows how to tell the romance of newspapering. tim murphy learns how to fly at the expense of the "atkinson news" because the editor firmly believes some of the biggest news stories will break above the clouds. every boy and girl imbued with the spirit of adventure will want to read these books. daring wings sky trail * * * * * air monster by edwin green a story of the world's largest dirigible and of the dangers in the frozen wastes of the arctic--a combination sure to provide thrills for every reader. what befalls this "air monster" on the arctic trip is only a part of the smashing action of this great book for boys. * * * * * extra by george morse baffling mystery, startling disappearances, roaring presses, etc., the tenseness of the deadline hour of great newspapers--all these and more are in this book written by a newspaper man in a style every young reader will enjoy. * * * * * the goldsmith publishing co. new york ------------------------------------------------------------------------ transcriber's note: . obvious typographical errors were corrected without note. . non-standard spellings and dialect were retained.