THE RESCUE.
Harvey Hamilton was anything but pleased over the actions of
Detective Pendar in dashing off as he did without a word of
explanation. He expected to accompany him, and would have followed
but through fear of offending his friend. The youth could not forget
that he possessed nothing in the nature of a weapon and was more
likely to prove a hindrance rather than a help to the officer.
“He is a brave man,—a reckless one,” he reflected, “thus to rush
upon a desperate gang who are armed and will stop at no crime.
Hello! what does that mean?”
He had stepped down from his seat and glanced over his machine, when
chancing to look up in the sky he recognized the monoplane of
Professor Morgan, already near the spot where the young aviator had
seen the ruined shanty not long before, with the little girl playing
in front of it.
The discovery that the odd character had not wrecked his first
machine, but had been the means of his securing a second with
remarkable promptness, changed the resentment of the youth to the
kindliest feelings toward the man. He watched the actions with
fascinated interest, for the distance was so slight that everything
was visible. It has been said that one of the achievements of
Professor Morgan was the knack of running his monoplane with
scarcely any perceptible noise. A misty, whirring object under his
perch showed that the “uplifter” was doing its effective work and
holding the machine motionless over the place desired.
It was far enough for the intervening forest to muffle the voices of
the airman and the detective, who tried desperately to prevent his
dropping the bomb which wrought such frightful havoc. In the flurry
of the occasion, Harvey had not recovered his field glass from his
friend, an oversight which he regretted, for it would have helped
greatly in learning precisely what the Professor was doing. But his
unaided eyes told him enough to suggest a shrewd guess.
“He is going to launch a bomb, and if he does, it won’t be a giant
cracker, which gave those young men such a big scare the other day.”
A minute later came the tremendous report, and Harvey felt the
ground tremble. A mass of smoke and flying fragments rose over the
spot where the shanty had stood.
“He has blown up the building and every one in it!” gasped the
startled youth. “I wonder whether the child has been hurt; Pendar
can take care of himself.”
Harvey hesitated whether to run to the spot, and had made up his
mind to do so, when he was checked by an incident that in its way
was as startling as the explosion.
It will be remembered that he had brought his aeroplane to rest in
the large clearing in front of the humble home of Uncle Tommy
Waters, the weather prophet. Had the circumstances been different,
he would have given attention to the house and its occupants, but
the thrilling incidents in course of happening elsewhere kept his
eyes turned in the opposite direction, and the cabin might as well
have been a hundred miles distant for all he knew of it for the
time.
That which caught his attention with the suddenness of a snap of a
whip in his ear and caused him to whirl the other way was a childish
voice:
“Oh, isn’t that a funny thing?”
Harvey Hamilton was struck speechless for a moment by the sight that
greeted his eyes. Two little girls, one freckled, homely, and poorly
dressed, the other pretty, with clustering curls and in fine
clothes, stood side by side, no more than a dozen paces distant,
staring wonderingly at him and the aeroplane. The third member of
the group was an immense shaggy dog as black as midnight, which
stood wagging his tail as if pleased with what he saw. In the door
of the cabin behind them was the pudgy wife of Uncle Tommy, also
staring and seemingly at a loss to comprehend the strange doings and
sights. Uncle Tommy was not visible, having gone to Chesterton
earlier in the day, with the time of his return uncertain.
Harvey beckoned the children to draw near. With some timidity they
did so, the dog following as if to see that no harm befell either.
The two halted a few steps away and smiled, the homely one with her
forefinger between her lips and her head to one side. Her companion
showed no embarrassment.
“Your name is Grace Hastings, isn’t it?” asked the young aviator, in
a kindly voice and with a rapidly beating heart.
“Yes,—what’s your name?” she asked with winsome confidence.
“Harvey Hamilton; wouldn’t you like to go home to mamma?”
“Oh, yes indeed; won’t you——”
She suddenly broke down and sobbed.
“There, my dear; you mustn’t cry, for we are going to take you home
just as soon as we can; your papa and mamma want to see you badly
and they shall not be kept waiting; won’t you come closer?”
“May Peggy come too?” she asked with a smile, though the tears still
wetted her plump cheeks.
“Certainly, for I know Peggy is a good girl.”
“Yes, she is, and we love each other, don’t we, Peggy?”
Grace looked at her companion for reply, and she nodded her head six
or seven times but did not speak. The two advanced and Harvey took
each by the hand.
“How long have you and Peggy known each other?” asked Harvey of
Grace.
“This is the first time the bad folks would let me go to see her,”
was the reply.
The youth read the full meaning of these words. The kidnappers had
kept the little one a close prisoner from the first. For the sake of
her health, they probably allowed her to play at times near the
shanty, as she was doing when he first saw her, but as the time of
her captivity, as they viewed it, was shortened to a few hours, they
yielded to her wish to walk the little way through the woods to her
neighbor. She would be within quick reach, and besides, had promised
to come back after a brief absence. What she might reveal while
playing with Peggy Waters could not bring any risk of her loss to
her captors. These facts, which became known afterward, showed that
the flight of Harvey Hamilton’s aeroplane on its first sweep over
the ramshackle structure had not roused any distrust on the part of
the two abductors there, who kept out of sight while the biplane was
near.
The young man was stirred by the sight of the child standing before
him, and chattering in her innocent way. Despite what had just
occurred and the certainty that Professor Morgan had played havoc
with the miscreants, the youth was uneasy. Some of the gang might
have escaped and started upon other mischief. Grace was too much
exposed to their evil intentions.
“Let us go into the house,” said Harvey, taking each child by the
hand and walking toward the dumpy woman who still filled the door of
the cabin, staring as if she failed to understand what had taken
place.
“Good morning,” saluted Harvey; “if you don’t mind we will go inside
and sit down for a little while.”
“I’m sure you’re welcome,” replied the housewife, stepping back to
give room. “It seems to me there’s been queer goings on around here.
What made that awful noise I heerd a little while ago?”
“A friend of mine blew up the shanty where several villains were
holding this little girl a prisoner.”
“La sakes! You don’t say so; did you ever hear of sich carryings
on?”
She stood with her arms akimbo and stared at her caller, who had
seated himself near the open door, where he could see his aeroplane
and whatever might appear in the clearing. Grace and Peggy sat
farther back, whispering and chuckling together, as new
acquaintances do who have no idea of the fearful meaning of what is
going on around them.
“Where is Uncle Tommy?” asked Harvey of the wife.
“He went to town two hours ago. You know,” she added with natural
pride, “that all the folks depends on him to know what kind of
weather we’re going to have, and he’s gone to Chesterton to tell
’em.”
“I have heard of his reputation as a weather prophet.”
At this juncture, Grace rose abruptly from her chair and asked
Harvey:
“How long have I been here?”
“Not knowing when you came I can’t tell exactly, Grace, but I am
sure it is only a short time.”
“I promised Alessandro I wouldn’t stay long and I must be going.”
“Wait a little while; he won’t care—.”
“There he comes for me now! He will be angry and beat me,” she
exclaimed, standing beside her young friend and looking out of the
door in a tremor of alarm.
Sure enough, the miscreant had come into plain sight. He was walking
with bowed head and his hands behind him, as if the wrists were
fastened together, and only one or two paces to the rear strode
Detective Simmons Pendar, with a revolver ready for instant use. The
picture told its own story.
“Stay where you are,” said Harvey, laying a gentle hand on the
shoulder of Grace Hastings; “Alessandro sha’n’t hurt you.”
With this assurance, the youth went down the few steps and advanced
to meet his friend.
“I don’t admire his looks,” he remarked with a smile as he glanced
at the swarthy, scowling face.
“He’s as ugly as he looks,” replied the detective.
“Is he the only one?”
“Professor Morgan’s bomb sent one flying among the trees, where he
will stay until carried away. And that is Grace Hastings?” said the
officer, with a radiant face, as he looked at the winsome
countenance in the doorway.
“She told me that that is her name, and I think she ought to know;
but what do you mean to do with this fellow?”
“I have been thinking. You know there were three of them; I
exchanged shots with Catozzi when we were starting with your
aeroplane. I am anxious to capture him, but he was left at
Chesterton, where he will probably wait till he receives more news.”
“You can march this one ahead of you to the town and have him locked
up.”
The face of the detective became grave. He shook his head.
“I am afraid that if I do that, and the truth becomes known, as it
surely will be, the people will lynch him.”
“Who cares if they do?” asked Harvey; “it will serve him right.”
“He and the others deserve it, but the law should deal with them. I
have a better plan.”