The Rescue
The very cause of Mike O’Malley’s delay in arriving at the empty house
on Monday evening proved to be the thing that saved the three girls in
the tower. It was the huge ladder on the telephone repair truck.
When Mike left the girls on Sunday with his promise to help them, he
drove straight back to Milwaukee to give the story of the treasure hunt
to his newspaper. At the same time he asked for Monday afternoon off, in
order to follow the “Linda Carlton Mystery,” as he called the accident
to Helen Tower. When this leave was granted he sat down in his
boarding-house bedroom to contemplate what he had better take with him.
“There’s something in that tower that mystifies Miss Linda,” he said to
himself. “And she seems to think it is closed off from the rest of the
house. I wonder how we could get in.”
He had all sorts of ideas—of going up in the autogiro and coming down in
a parachute, of jumping from the “Ladybug” to the window—but, of course,
these things wouldn’t do, because most likely the windows would be
closed and locked. No; a ladder was the only solution; but how could he
carry a ladder on his little Ford?
It was one of his brothers who solved the problem for him. As he had
told Miss Carlton on the occasion of his first visit to the bungalow at
Green Falls, Mike O’Malley was one of a large family. Two of his
brothers had left the farm for jobs in Milwaukee, and one of these was
with the telephone company. Pat—for that was his name—would be the very
person to help!
It was easily arranged, the only difficulty being that his brother could
not leave until four o’clock. However, the boys planned to meet outside
of the city, thereby avoiding the worst of the traffic, and they made
good speed along the country road. A little before eight, supperless but
happy, they drove up to the empty house.
“We’re too late!” shouted Pat, leaning out of his truck. “She’s on
fire!”
Mike had been pretty sure of this fact several minutes earlier, when he
had noticed some smoke in the sky, but he had said nothing. They must go
on, he had decided, for Linda and Dot might be trapped inside.
“We better get out of here,” called Pat, above the noise of the two
engines. “Don’t forget we’ve got gas, and both our cars may explode.”
“Pull over there in the field,” directed Mike, briefly. “I’ve got to
make sure that the girls are safe.”
And then they heard the cries, the wild terrified screams of those three
girls trapped in the tower of the burning house.
There wasn’t a moment to be lost. Pat took down his extension ladder,
and directed Mike how to help him get it up. They worked as fast as they
could, but the task appeared to be endless to the tortured girls,
watching them in breathless silence from the high windows. It seemed to
them as if the ladder would never reach to their height.
“Wish I was a real fireman,” was the only remark which Mike made during
the whole tense proceeding.
The flames were reaching the roof of the house now, and smoke was
streaming from the tower windows. Forcing his hands not to shake, Mike
held the ladder while Pat pulled it to its full height. There was one
terrible moment, while they all waited to see whether it would reach to
the edge of the window— It did! The boys let out a cry of, “Ready now!
Come down, girls!” and held tightly—and prayed.
Dot leaned out of the window to make sure that the ladder was firmly
gripping the ledge, and to Mike’s surprise, neither she nor Linda
climbed out, but little Helen instead. Holding on to Dot’s hand, the
young girl stepped over, and made her perilous way down the ladder, to
the ground.
There was a slight delay, while more smoke poured from the windows.
Evidently Dot and Linda were arguing about who should come next, but Dot
had to give in, for she knew it was of no use to try to withstand Linda.
So she climbed over the ledge and started downward, only to see the
window ledge itself catch fire when she was halfway down!
If Linda had been wearing a dress instead of knickers, there would have
been little hope for her now. But as it was she managed to straddle the
flame and to step on the ladder, just as it, too, caught fire at the
top. It swayed for one dreadful second, but the boys held tightly, and
pushed it farther against the wall. No one ever came down a ladder
faster than Linda Carlton at that moment; it seemed as if her feet
scarcely touched the rungs. When she was finally only six feet above the
ground she jumped. It was none too soon; the ladder gave way, and the
young people all ran to safety.
“Mike!” cried Linda joyously grasping his hands in an ecstasy of relief:
“You’re a wonder! How did you ever know to bring a ladder?”
The young man was too excited to talk. He couldn’t say a word.
“We must get these cars out of the way,” ordered Pat, who had not even
been introduced. “Let’s all meet down by the road.”
“O.K.,” agreed Mike, signaling to Helen to get into his Ford.
“My ‘Ladybug!’” exclaimed Linda abruptly. She had all but forgotten it.
Suppose it were burned!
“Want any help?” asked Mike, as Pat started to drive his truck down to
the road.
“No, thanks. But take Dot and Helen with you. I’ll meet you there—I
hope!”
Running as fast as she could, keeping her face turned from the intense
heat of the fire, she passed the barn and saw that it too was beginning
to burn. Oh, if the “Ladybug” were only safe! Next to their lives she
valued her trusted autogiro. Insurance would mean little to her; it was
this particular plane that she loved, almost as if it were a horse or a
dog.
But, miraculously, it was all right, though she realized that she was
just in time, for now that the barn was burning, a spark might fly any
moment that would set it into flames. Never before had she been so quick
in starting its engine. Thank goodness it was in perfect condition,
after her work of the morning!
As soon as she had left the ground she circled down to the road, and saw
the lights of the truck and the Ford, for it was almost dark now.
Selecting a field opposite, she landed her autogiro again and ran across
to join the group around the cars.
All the young people had by this time regained their spirits and were
talking excitedly and happily, asking each other questions, hardly
waiting for explanations, and all shouting at once. Though Pat O’Malley
had been a stranger to the girls fifteen minutes before, he now seemed
like one of their best friends.
“If we only had something to eat!” sighed Mike, “my joy would be
complete.”
“Didn’t you boys have any supper?” demanded Dot. It was quite dark now,
it must be after eight o’clock, she thought.
“No. Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you, Helen?” inquired Mike, who still had only a hazy idea how the
young girl had happened to be there.
“No. And I only had dried lima beans for lunch.”
“The nearest village is about five miles,” volunteered Pat. “I’ve worked
along this road before. Shall we all pile into my truck and hunt it?”
“I couldn’t leave my autogiro—” began Linda, when Dot interrupted with a
suggestion. She had just remembered the food she had brought from the
inn at Lake Winnebago.
“Wait!” she cried, joyfully. “I’ve got chicken sandwiches and peaches in
the plane! Does that sound good?”
“Does it sound good!” repeated Mike. “Oh, boy!”
Linda and the two young men ran over to the field immediately, and
returned in a few minutes, their arms piled with boxes and the thermos
bottles of water which Linda always carried in the “Ladybug.” Going over
to the bank beside the road, they all sat down while Dot untied the
bundles.
“I’ll have to count the sandwiches and divide them evenly,” she said,
laughingly. “Just as if we were all starving Armenians.”
“I think Helen should get the most,” suggested Mike. “She really has
almost starved.”
“Oh, this is great!” exclaimed Dot, as she examined the boxes. “There
are ten sandwiches—and six peaches—and—and——”
“And what?” demanded Pat, hungrily.
“And two apple pies!”
Both boys let out a whistle, and Helen clapped her hands.
“But how did you two girls ever expect to eat all that for your supper?”
asked Pat.
Dot giggled.
“I told the cook to put in a lot,” she replied, “because when Linda and
I go off on trips we never know how long we’ll be stranded.”
“But there aren’t any desert islands around here,” remarked Mike, who
had heard the story of the girls’ adventures in the Okefenokee Swamp.
“No, but you never can tell,” returned Dot. “Now—fall to! Here are two
sandwiches and a peach for each one of you, and Helen gets the extra
peach.”
They ate silently for several minutes, everybody too hungry to talk.
Suddenly Helen stopped in the act of breaking her second peach in two,
and cried in dismay,
“Dot! We forgot the will!”
“What will?” demanded Mike.
Linda explained briefly, while Dot reached down into her blouse. Even in
the darkness they could all see the yellowed packet which she
triumphantly held up to their view.
“I wasn’t going to let that get away!” she announced, proudly.
She handed it to Mike who, with the aid of his flashlight, examined it
with the greatest satisfaction.
“That’s bully, Helen!” he cried, when he had seen enough of it to make
sure that it was legal. “And don’t let the Fish get any of the money!”
“You’re not planning to go back to her, are you?” asked Linda. She was
thinking of the law suit, and wondering how Mrs. Fishberry could sue her
if Helen denied ever having known her.
“I certainly am not!” replied the girl, emphatically.
Dot proceeded to cut the pies, which they ate perhaps less ravenously,
but at least with as great enjoyment as the sandwiches, while they
discussed what they would do next.
“I’ve got to get back to Milwaukee to-night,” announced Pat, as he began
to collect the sandwich papers into a pile.
“So do I,” agreed Mike. “Anybody want to come with me?”
“No, thank you,” replied Linda, rising from the ground. “I’ll take both
the girls back to Green Falls with me in the ‘Ladybug.’”
“You aren’t afraid to fly at night?” inquired Pat.
“Mercy no! The only thing I’m worried about is Aunt Emily. She expected
us for supper.”
“Perhaps she didn’t get there herself,” suggested Mike. “They had a
motor trip and a boat trip both you know.”
“But Mr. Clavering’s cars and boats are always reliable,” returned
Linda. “Oh, well, so long as we arrive before midnight, I don’t suppose
that she’ll be terribly worried.”
“We’ll wait here till we see you safely up in the air,” concluded Mike.
“Then Pat and I will be going.”
“Wait a minute!” exclaimed his brother, who had just finished his task
of picking up the papers. “Look what I’ve found over here in the
bushes!”
To the amazement of everyone, he held up a gray wig and beard, and a
linen coat to their view.
“What are they?” demanded Linda, as Pat turned the flashlight upon his
discovery.
“Looks like a Hallowe’en suit,” volunteered Mike. “But what is it doing
here?”
“Helen,” asked Dot, turning to the young girl, “can you remember having
any masquerade parties at your house?”
“We never had _any_ parties,” she replied. “We were too poor. On my
birthdays Nana—I mean Mrs. Smalley—would make cookies, and she and I and
my doll would play it was a party. That was all.”
Linda was silent. There had been something familiar about the beard in
particular, for it was bigger and longer than most real ones. Now she
remembered what it reminded her of.
“Remember that old man who knocked Helen down, Dot?” she inquired.
A smile broke over Dot’s face.
“Of course! A disguise! I never could understand why a man apparently so
aged would be driving at that reckless rate of speed. He wasn’t old at
all, I guess!”
“By George, that’s the answer!” cried Mike, positively elated by the
discovery. “Now all we’ve got to do is to catch the man. Helen, have you
any idea who he could be?”
“I’m afraid,” answered the girl reluctantly, “that he’s my uncle. And if
he is, you won’t catch him. He’s wicked—and clever.”
“Anyhow, we’ll try,” Mike assured her. “Shall I take charge of this
stuff, while I see what can be done?”
Helen nodded, and he walked with the girls over the field to the
“Ladybug,” and stood watching Linda take off into the sky. Fascinated,
he continued to gaze at the autogiro until its light was all that he
could see—a little spark of flame in the heavens—and then he turned
about and joined his brother across the road.