IN HOT PURSUIT
Linda replaced the telephone receiver and sat motionless, staring at the
wall of the hotel bedroom. The worst had happened. The autogiro was
stolen. The Ladybug! Her dearest possession.
“What’s the matter?” asked Dot, realizing that her chum must have heard
bad news.
In a few words Linda explained the situation.
“And the worst of it is, that girl evidently didn’t have any difficulty
at all about doing it. Just walked into the airport at night and
demanded the plane. They handed it over to her without so much as a
question.”
For once in her life, Dot remained speechless. There was not a single
word of comfort she could think of to offer to her companion.
“She’s had almost a whole day’s start,” Linda added dismally. “Here it
is three o’clock, and she must have pulled out at dark last night. She’s
probably out of the United States by this time. And nobody even on her
trail yet!”
“Our police always catch the wrong person, anyway,” remarked Dot,
grimly.
“Don’t be too hard on them, Dot. They’re not all like that dreadful
specimen that came for me this morning. And in a case like this, they
would probably put the air-force on duty. Men of a much higher type.”
“Like Mr. Chase, for instance.”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do, Linda?”
“Call the police headquarters first. Tell them to get in touch with all
the airports possible, so that any autogiros can be reported. But I’d
like to go after that girl myself, too!”
“In what?”
“‘In what?’ is right! Oh, if I only had a plane! If Ted Mackay were only
here—or even Ralph, with his autogiro! But do you realize, Dot, that I’m
bankrupt? I can’t buy a plane, or even hire one, now that that girl took
everything I had in the bank.”
Her companion nodded. “If somebody would only lend you one,” she said.
“Maybe Mr. Eckert—”
“I’ve thought of him. But he has to get back to the school immediately.
Why, Dot, this is the twenty-ninth of September! We’ve wasted a whole
week, just to establish the fact that I am Linda Carlton! Isn’t it just
too absurd!”
“It’s the craziest thing I ever heard of. And now you’ll lose your
chance at that teaching position, unless you give up trying to get your
Ladybug back.”
“I can’t do that. I couldn’t give up now. No, I’ll call the police
headquarters, and then I’ll wait around until Mr. Eckert wakes up from
his nap. We’ll surprise the men by having dinner with them.”
It was indeed a surprise, as Linda expected, when she and Dot met Mr.
Eckert and Chief Brenan in the lobby of the hotel that evening at seven
o’clock. Naturally, both men thought that the girls had flown away early
in the afternoon.
“I’m tied to the earth again,” Linda announced immediately. “But not by
the law this time.... That girl flew off in my autogiro!”
“No!” cried Mr. Eckert, incredulously. “Why, there isn’t anything she
won’t steal!” He smiled grimly. “Did she leave you your own clothing,
Linda?”
“Yes,” replied the girl. “But that’s about all.”
“You should have had me wakened the minute you heard the news. If you
had done that, you might have been on your way by this time.”
“You mean—?” gasped Linda.
“In my plane, of course. Take it and welcome, my dear child!”
Linda seized his hand and tried to stammer out her thanks. But she was
too much moved by his generosity to say anything.
“How will you get back to St. Louis in time for the opening of your
school?” inquired Dot.
“By the commercial air-line,” replied Mr. Eckert. “Now come in and eat
some dinner, and after that, you can make your plans.”
It seemed to Linda almost too good to be true. To have the privilege of
flying that new, fast biplane, which she had admired so much that
morning. It had a cruising speed of a hundred and fifty miles an hour!
Surely, in it, she could catch her own Ladybug.
“You’ll start early tomorrow morning, I suppose?” asked Mr. Eckert, as
they seated themselves in the dining-room.
“Yes,” answered Linda. “The police are already on the job, in
communication with all the airports, which are to keep a watch out for
all autogiros that pass overhead or land for gas. We’ll find out what
reports have been turned in, before we take off in the morning.”
“And will you go along, Miss Crowley?”
“Certainly,” replied Dot. “I’m just as anxious to recover the Ladybug as
Linda is.”
“It may mean dangerous business.”
“It’s bound to be exciting!”
After dinner Chief Brenan telephoned to the police headquarters to find
out what information had been gained. Three autogiros, he learned, had
been spotted, but only two of them had been stopped. Neither of these
was the Ladybug. The third, it seemed, had been seen early in the day,
flying southeast across California toward Arizona. Two secret-service
planes had already been sent out in that direction.
With Mr. Eckert’s help, Linda sketched out a course to follow. She would
head straight for the city of Yuma, in the extreme southwest of Arizona,
stopping there for the first night. Then she would go over the border
into Mexico.
Dot, in the meanwhile, took charge of the practical preparations for the
trip. She arranged to leave their box of clothing at the hotel, and
packed all the supplies for the trip. Water in gallon jugs and thermos
bottles, canned food, blankets in case they were forced to camp out at
night, field glasses and first-aid kit—and finally, upon Mr. Eckert’s
suggestion—a revolver.
The whole party breakfasted at dawn the following morning, and Mr.
Eckert accompanied the girls to the airport, to sign the necessary
papers for the release of his plane, the Sky Rocket. It was a beautiful
new biplane, of the latest model. Painted yellow, with a companion
cockpit, it stood in readiness on the runway, as if inviting Linda to
climb in and fly.
Her eyes were shining in happy anticipation as she skipped forward and
climbed into the cockpit to peer at the instruments. Everything for
convenience and comfort seemed to be provided. Altimeter, clocks,
compass, parachutes—even a wireless, with transmitting radio wires
placed inside the wings, so that messages could be sent and received.
“It’s marvellous, Mr. Eckert!” she exclaimed, as she seated herself at
the controls, her hand fingering the joy-stick.
“Aren’t you even going to give her a trial flight, Miss Carlton?”
inquired the mechanic, skeptically.
“Miss Carlton can pilot any plane that’s made!” replied Mr. Eckert,
proudly. “She never needs any instruction. But,” he added, coming closer
to Linda, “don’t forget that this isn’t an autogiro. Don’t try to land
her on top of a building!”
Linda smiled.
“I only wish I had my own license,” she said.
“I shouldn’t worry about that,” returned Mr. Eckert. “The police aren’t
going to make any more mistakes about arresting you.”
“I should hope not!” exclaimed Dot.
A minute later the mechanic started the motor, and Linda taxied along
the runway, waving good-bye to Mr. Eckert. A few hundred feet further,
and the Sky Rocket rose into the air like a bird, soaring up to the
skies. The usual fog common to the early morning climate of California
had lifted, and the sun shone brightly as Linda directed her course
towards the mountains. She let out the throttle to its maximum as soon
as she reached a good safe height; a hundred and fifty miles an hour did
not seem an abnormal speed, but it was a thrilling experience. Linda
loved her own Ladybug, but after all, this was an exciting change.
Over the orange groves of southern California they passed again, then,
even higher up in the air to clear the San Jacinto Mountains, over the
city of Imperial—on towards Yuma. The flight was nearly four hundred
miles, but Linda covered it in less than four hours. At noon she landed
the Sky Rocket at the airport of Yuma, Arizona.
Being a large airport, the men had already been informed by radio of the
stolen autogiro, and the attendant who came out to greet the Sky Rocket
was prepared to answer Linda’s questions.
“A giro stopped here yesterday for gas and oil,” he said. “And we filled
her up. Put a patch on one wing, but the couple wouldn’t wait long
enough to have it done right. That must have been about three o’clock in
the afternoon. We got the radio soon after that, to take the licenses of
all the giros we got a look at.”
“What did the people look like? Were they a man and a girl?” demanded
Dot, excitedly.
“Yeah. A married couple, I believe.”
“On their honeymoon?”
“Can’t tell you that. They didn’t act mushy.”
Linda smiled.
“Did they give you their names?” she inquired.
“And did the girl look like—Miss Carlton?” put in Dot, before the man
could answer Linda’s question.
“Couldn’t say she did, except that all you girl fliers look something
alike. But her face was pretty dirty, and her helmet was pulled down
low.... Yeah, they gave their names. A Mr. and Mrs. Bower, of Texas.”
“Oh!” gasped Linda, in disappointment. “We’re looking for people named
Sprague.”
“They wouldn’t be likely to give their right names, Linda,” Dot reminded
her. “Why, that girl thinks nothing of swiping a new name to fit her
fancy!”
“True,” admitted Linda.
“And another thing,” added the attendant. “There was a secret-service
flier here this morning already. After them. A nice-looking chap, in a
gray monoplane.”
“Could it have been Mr. Chase?” demanded Dot.
“Yeah. I think that was the name.... Well, he crossed the border, hot on
their trail. Shouldn’t be surprised if he had ’em by now, for he flew a
fast plane!”
The news was encouraging, so after a bite of lunch and a hasty
inspection, the girls flew away again, heading south now, avoiding the
Gulf of California, and crossing over into Mexico.
They passed over the California river and continued an easterly course,
avoiding the mountains near the coast, and pointing inland before they
turned southeast again. From their height in the air they could not see
the ground without glasses, but as Linda dipped lower, they could
distinguish how barren and desolate it was. There were no trees; only
short, stumpy underbrush scattered about, with big patches of bare, hard
earth between. A most unattractive part of the country.
The engine of the plane continued to throb evenly; it was in perfect
condition. At least, Linda thought, her plane was giving her no worry.
But then, planes were more like automobiles now; the accidents were
oftener due to the pilots themselves than to faulty motors.... But thus
far, she had accomplished nothing. There had been no sign of an
autogiro, or indeed of any kind of plane, since they left Arizona.
“We may be flying too high,” she remarked, as the hours passed without
any success. “I’m afraid to dip too low with this plane.”
“Yes, that must be the trouble,” responded her companion. “They could
come down amongst those bushes and camp for the night, and we’d never
see them. It seems like a wild-goose chase to me.”
“You don’t want to give up?”
“No, not as long as we can get any news at all. And they can’t go on
forever without gas. They’ll have to stop at airports every once in a
while to refuel, and then they’ll be caught.”
“Some of these little Mexican places may not have been informed,”
observed Linda. “If they didn’t speak English—or didn’t have a radio.”
On and on they flew, over this hot, deserted land, so uncultivated and
barren. The sun sank and twilight came on—and still no sign of a town or
an airport where the girls might land.
“I’m afraid I’m lost,” Linda admitted to Dot, when it became too dim to
distinguish the ground even with the aid of glasses. “I’ll have to fly
lower, and look for a landing. I think remember a place a couple of
miles back.”
She circled about and began flying in the opposite direction, cautiously
gliding a little nearer to the ground.
“Do you mind sleeping out tonight, Dot?” she inquired.
Her companion made a face. She had read enough about Mexican bandits not
to relish the prospect.
“I suppose we’ll have to,” she said. “Anyway, we have plenty of food.”
Darkness was coming on fast; there was nothing to do but take a chance
at landing. Beyond them stretched great black mountains, deep and
forbidding, inhabited, they felt sure, by all sorts of wild animals.
These must be avoided at any cost; so Linda went back to the spot she
had selected and prepared to make a dangerous landing. How thankful she
was that she had had plenty of experience in spot landings!
Keeping the plane still high enough to maintain the glide to the spot,
she combined maneuvers to accomplish her purpose. From a glide, she went
into a side-slip until she lost altitude, then, as she approached the
landing-mark, she gradually reduced speed with the forward slip,
straightening out just as she reached the ground. And landed on the
exact spot she had selected!
“Good work, Linda!” cried Dot, admiringly.
Linda grinned.
“I was afraid I might be out of practice,” she said. “Spoiled by my
Ladybug. It’s a satisfaction to know I can still land an ordinary plane.
I guess she’ll be all right, just here.... Now for some food! I’m
starved.”
“So am I. And thirsty too.... Where shall we make our camp?”
They looked all about them. In spite of the gathering darkness, they
could see bare ground everywhere; only a few clumps of dry bushes in the
distance. It was not exactly the spot one would select to camp out, if
given a choice.
“Not too near the plane,” said Linda. “Though I guess we don’t need to
build a fire. I don’t believe we could find any wood. No; let’s just
open a can or two, and eat oranges and biscuits for tonight. Anything
would taste good now.”
They prepared their meal and ate it almost in silence, for they were too
weary to talk. Then, crawling into their blankets, although the night
was exceedingly mild, they went to sleep under the stars.
The first faint rays of light were appearing when Linda was abruptly
awakened by a familiar sound over her head. She sat up, reaching
instinctively for her revolver at her side, and looking about her for
some animal which might be the cause of the noise. But the sound, now
more loud than before, was not that of an animal. It grew nearer, almost
deafening—over her head. An airplane, of course! Now fully awake, she
looked up into the skies. The plane was descending; a flashlight was
turned into her face. Blinded for an instant, she looked away. Then, as
she turned her gaze upon it again, she saw it on the ground. And, wonder
of wonders, it was an autogiro!
Excitedly she turned to her companion. But Dot was still sleeping
peacefully. That wasn’t surprising; it had always been hard to waken
Dot. Alarms right beside her bed never had any effect.
“Dot!” she whispered, disentangling herself from her blanket, and edging
up nearer to her chum. “Dot! Wake up!”
But Linda stopped suddenly; she couldn’t say anything more. With the
speed of a bolt of lightning, a man ran at her, and, grasping both
Linda’s hands with one of his, he clapped a wet rag over her face with
the other. She had just time enough to identify her attacker as Sprague,
when she fell to the ground unconscious. And, although she did not see
what happened next, the same fate was accorded to Dot.
Both girls had been chloroformed!