"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