"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.