"No, it wasn't luck. It was good, clear thinking and the ability to
recall a worthwhile incident. Incidentally, both of you are going into
the cast of 'Kings of the Air'."
"But, Dad, you can't mean that!" exclaimed Helen.
"I mean just that," retorted her father, "and I wasn't the one who
suggested it. Rexler insists that you be included. It's his way of trying
to repay Janet for her suggestion."
"Then that means we'll get another chance in a picture," said Janet, and
she felt her heart beating like mad.
"Indeed it does and you'll be in the biggest feature the Ace company is
producing this year," Helen's father assured them.
_Chapter XXV_
THE STARS VANISH
Janet and Helen did get rôles in "Kings of the Air" and even though they
were very minor parts, both girls were elated. They were cast as
waitresses in the restaurant which served the pilots at the main western
terminal of the air mail line.
Almost every contract player on the Ace lot was in it, with a good,
substantial rôle going to Curt Newsom, who was taken out of Billy
Fenstow's western unit long enough to play the part of a bitter field
manager. Even Bertie Jackson got a part as a gold-digger who was out to
get all the information she could from the pilots and was suspected of
selling secrets to a rival air line.
Janet and Helen saw little of Helen's father for the next few days. He
was immensely busy on the details of the production and a complete
airport was set up out in the California desert for one of the major
sequences would revolve around this lonely outpost on the air mail route.
The sequences in which Janet and Helen were to appear were shot at Grand
Central at Glendale, actually in the field restaurant and were among the
first to be taken.
Janet had only four lines and Helen had three. All of them were in a
brief scene with Curt Newsom and his encouragement helped them through
for it was hard work under the glare of a brilliant battery of electrics.
What made it all the harder was that Mr. Rexler was with the company the
day this particular sequence was shot, but somehow they managed to get
through with it. After that they were free to stay with the company and
watch the rest of the shooting schedule until Billy Fenstow called them
back for his next western.
It was during the second week of shooting that things started to go
wrong. There were innumerable little delays that were maddening in
themselves and when a dozen of them came, almost at the same time, even
level-headed Henry Thorne showed signs of extreme exasperation. The cast
was large and expensive and a dozen planes had been leased. The daily
overhead was terrific and each day's delay sent the cost of the picture
rocketing.
When they went on location out in the desert Curt Newsom, lunching with
Janet and Helen, gave voice to his fears.
"This outfit is getting jitters," he said. "I heard this morning that one
of the pilots found several of his control wires half way eaten through
by acid. That's bad business."
Janet, looking up from a dish of ice cream, spoke slowly. "Then that
means someone is deliberately trying to cripple the company?"
"It means someone is doing it. That flyer pulled out; refused to take his
plane off the ground again and some good shots are already 'in the can'
with his plane in it. Means they'll have to get another plane and fix it
up like his or shoot over a lot of footage. Either one will be
expensive."
That night Henry Thorne called the company together. Their location was
at the edge of the ghost town of Sagebrush, and members of the company
were sheltered in the three or four habitable houses which remained. All
of them had grumbled a bit, but there was nothing that could be done
about it for the nearest town of any size was too far away to make the
drive back and forth daily.
Helen's father spoke plainly.
"There have been a series of accidents," he said. "These have slowed up
production and put us almost a week behind schedule. All of you know what
that means on a picture of this size. I am convinced that someone in the
company is aiding in this sabotage and I am giving fair warning now that
this town will be patrolled at night and that all equipment will be
watched. The guards are armed and have orders to shoot first and ask
questions afterward."
That was all, but it started a buzz of conversation that lasted nearly an
hour. When the company finally broke up to go to quarters, Janet happened
to be watching Bertie Jackson and she saw the blond actress, slip between
two buildings and vanish into the night.
Helen was some distance away and Janet, playing a hunch, followed Bertie
at a safe distance.
There was no moon, but the sky was studded with stars. The walking
through the sand was hard going, but noiseless, and Janet, keeping low,
could discern Bertie's silhouette.
Suddenly the older actress stopped and whistled softly, a long, a short
and a long whistle. The sound could not have carried back to Sagebrush
and Janet, vaguely alarmed, waited.
Almost before she knew it another figure joined Bertie and she could hear
the two conversing, but she didn't dare move closer. The newcomer struck
a match to light a cigarette and carefully shielded though it was, Janet
was close enough to glimpse his face. It was that of a stranger. The
match went out and the night seemed darker.
Janet wanted to get closer, but as she moved forward she stumbled over
something in the dark and plunged headlong into the sand.
Before she could regain her feet she heard a muttered exclamation and
knew she had been discovered.
Then the thin beam from a shielded flashlight struck her face.
Janet knew her only chance was to run for it and she tried to rise, but
her feet were entangled in a tough creeper.
"Look out! She may scream!" warned Bertie.
Janet opened her lips to cry out, but before she could do it, the man
with Bertie leaped forward and thrust a heavy hand against Janet's mouth.
Suddenly the world went black, the stars vanished, and she dropped into
the sand.
_Chapter XXVI_
BOMBS FROM THE SKY
It was later in the evening when Janet was missed. Helen thought her
companion had gone to visit some other member of the company and it was
well after ten o'clock when she became alarmed and started making
inquiries.
"Looking for someone?" asked Bertie Jackson, who seemed to be everywhere.
"I haven't seen Janet for several hours."
"Maybe she's got a date with a boy friend in the desert."
"Janet hasn't any boy friend and she wouldn't be dating in the desert,"
snapped Helen.
"Have it your own way," retorted Bertie, but as she turned away a sneer
distorted her vapid face.
Helen finally communicated her fears to her father.
"I've gone over the entire camp and no one has seen Janet for at least an
hour and none of them are sure it was that recent. I'm worried."
Henry Thorne, busy working with one of the writers on a difficult bit of
script that needed smoothing up half way dismissed Helen's fears with a
wave of his hand. Then he stopped.
"You're sure she's not in camp?" he asked.
"I'm positive, Dad. Do you think anything terrible has happened?"
"Of course not. She's probably walked out into the desert and has gone
too far. I'll rout out some of the men and we'll start a searching
party."
Curt Newsom was one of the first to answer the call and he muttered to
himself when he heard the news.
"There's trouble brewing," he told Helen. "You stick close to me."
"What do you mean, Curt?" asked Helen, her voice filled with anxiety.
"I mean this picture promises to be too big and someone is trying to
throw a wrench in the proceedings."
"Some rival company?"
"It could be that. I'm not saying, but I'm certainly going to keep my
eyes open."
Under the brisk commands of Helen's father, the ghost town awoke. Men who
had been asleep were routed out, cars commandeered, and parties swept
away over the desert in search of the missing girl.
Curt Newsom, who had brought several horses with him, preferred to ride
and Helen went with him. Curt saddled the horses and they swung away into
the desert together.
Across the almost level floor of the desert they could see the cars
swinging in great circles.
"They won't find anything," said Curt, and after that they rode on in a
silence broken only by the steady shuffling of the horses through the
sand.
At intervals they stopped and Curt's great voice boomed through the
night.
"We'd better turn back to camp," the cowboy star finally advised. "Maybe
some of the others have news."
But when they gathered in the ghost town, Helen knew that the search had
been fruitless.
Each searching party brought back the same report--no trace of the
missing Janet had been found.
"Everyone try to get some sleep now," said Helen's father. "We'll resume
the search at dawn."
Helen went to the room assigned to her and lay down, fully dressed, to
try and rest in the short interval before dawn. But sleep would not come
and thoughts raced through her head. Something was decidedly amiss and,
like Curt Newsom, she could now sense impending disaster to the company.
Just what it was or how it would strike she could not determine, but a
terrible uneasiness gripped her.
Breakfast was served at dawn. Most of the women in the company were on
hand to aid in the search, but Henry Thorne called only upon the men.
Half a dozen cars were manned and they swung out again to comb the desert
floor.
"Let them go," said Curt Newsom to Helen. "We'll ride. If there are any
tracks, we'll be able to follow them easier."
The tall, well-built cowboy star swung into his saddle and they trotted
away between two tumbledown houses of the ghost town.
Shadows of the morning were long and heavy, for the sun was just topping
the mountains, but Helen, riding close behind the cowboy, glimpsed a
footprint in the sand. She reined in her horse and called to Curt, who
whirled quickly.
"Someone's been through here," she said, pointing to where the sand was
fairly hard packed.
"Anyone could have left a print like that," replied the cowboy star.
"Your nerves are getting the best of you, Helen. Steady up."
She smiled and they turned again toward the desert, riding at a steady
pace and scanning the sand intently for anything unusual.
They were less than a quarter of a mile from the old town when Curt
pulled his horse up sharp and leaped from the saddle to bend down and
scrutinize a tough creeper which had been pulled out of the sand.
"Get down here, Helen. Here's something the others have missed."
Helen dismounted and ran to Curt's side. In his hands he held a tough
section of the creeper and his eyes were fastened on a brown stain. "What
is it?" demanded Helen.
"Looks like someone got caught in this and scratched," said Curt, trying
to pass the remark off lightly.
"You mean it might have been Janet?"
"It might have been," agreed the cowboy star. "Look back toward the
village. This is in a direct line and although you may not have noticed
it, we've been following footprints all of the way. Two came out and only
one returned."
Helen looked at him, her eyes showing her fear.
"Then someone in the company was responsible for Janet's disappearance!"
she gasped.
"Right," snapped Curt. "The first thing is to find Janet; then we'll
catch up with whoever was responsible."
"Hadn't we better tell the others?" asked Helen.
"They're not used to tracking; I am." He grinned. "Even if I am a movie
cowboy most of the time, I know a few tricks about the range and the
desert. Come on!"
They remounted and Curt led the way, scanning the ground closely. Even
Helen, as inexperienced as she was, could see the signs now. Someone had
left deep prints in the sand.
"He was either an awful big man or he was carrying someone," said Curt.
"One thing, he won't be able to go far."
The trail led toward the hills back of the ghost town and it was evident
that the man they were trailing had rested frequently. Curt saw another
of those brown stains, but he made sure that Helen did not see it for
there was no use in increasing her fears.
The trail led on, perhaps half a mile altogether, and ended suddenly in a
tiny depression where the sand was smooth and hard.
Curt dismounted and made a minute survey of the bowl. The trail came in
all right, but there were no tracks going out. In the center were two
marks, about four inches wide and 12 or 14 feet long, but that was all.
Beside one of these was a tiny smudge of black and Curt got down on his
hands and knees and sniffed keenly.
"What is it?" asked Helen.