MEETING AN OLD FRIEND.
It was a half hour’s climb to the top of the ridge, it being so
precipitous in places that even a lusty youth like Harvey Hamilton
had to pause more than once to rest his limbs and regain his wind.
He accomplished his task in due time and reaching the crest, uttered
an exclamation of amazement at the wonderful beauty of the landscape
spread before him.
He had crossed the boundary of the county and was in Essex, which
includes nearly all of the romantic Adirondack region, familiar to the
thousands who visit it every year. As far as the vision could travel
were wooded mountain peaks, craggy spurs, lakes, some of considerable
size, the headwaters of the Hudson and other rivers, waterfalls,
dashing streams, the country dotted here and there with straggling
hamlets, a fashionable hotel or two, scattered cabins and rude
dwellings, while tiny columns of smoke climbing through the treetops
told where parties had their camps and were living in the open, with
the sensible resolve to get all that the forest, redolent with spruce
and balsam, could give them.
With the aid of his glass, Harvey identified a canoe containing a man
and woman, the latter paddling up the winding stream far to the left,
while on the shore of the lake, to the right, gleamed the white tent
of some campers. He even recognized the tiny figures moving about, and
saw a man enter a canoe and hurry out upon the sheet of water, which
gleamed like a vast mirror of silver.
The view was worth traveling thousands of miles to enjoy. In all his
wanderings through Switzerland, the Tyrol, and Italy, Harvey had beheld
nothing like it. While those parts of the Old World far surpass the
Adirondacks in magnificence and grandeur, there was a certain witching
charm in this place not easily describable that enthralled the young
American and held him mute under a spell that no European scene had
been able to weave about him.
While in other circumstances he could have stood or sat for hours
drinking in the fascinating beauty, he could not keep his thoughts
from the serious task upon which he had entered days before. Bohunkus
Johnson, if alive, was in peril from the demented man who held him a
prisoner, and his rescue must be accomplished without waste of time.
Somewhere in that unrivaled landscape, Professor Morgan had gone with
his monoplane. Possibly he had crossed the limit of the searcher’s
vision, but the latter did not think it likely. At any rate he
determined to examine the territory at his feet before entering new
fields.
The prosaic truth forced itself upon Harvey Hamilton that his most
pressing need just then was food. He was sure he never felt quite so
hungry, and there was no call for him to suffer so long as he was in a
land of plenty, where hospitality is the law.
His first intention was to go down the slope to the lake, on whose bank
the tent stood. He knew he would be welcome and be given abundantly of
what he needed. But the spot was two miles off at least, and somehow he
disliked meeting a party of jovial campers, as they were likely to be.
He was not in the mood for jest and quip and feared that the contact
would not help him in his self-appointed task.
In the opposite direction from the lake, nestling in a small clearing,
was a cabin similar to those which he had seen during his adventurous
days in eastern Pennsylvania. It was not more than a third as far from
where he stood as the camp. While he observed no one moving about, a
tiny spiral of smoke climbing from the stone chimney showed that the
dwelling had occupants. He decided to go thither.
This compelled him to leave his aeroplane behind. Had the distance been
greater he would have used it, though still dreading a sudden return of
the crazy inventor and his machine. His own brief flight to the spot
did not seem to have attracted attention and he gave the matter no
further thought, but set out at once.
As he drew near the humble structure he was favorably impressed. It
was made of logs, but the two or three acres of surrounding ground
were under cultivation and the vegetables were not only plentiful and
vigorous, but there was an air of neatness brooding over all, that
proved the owner and occupant to be thrifty and tasteful. The front
of the house was covered with climbing vines and flowers, and the
windowpanes were clean, as was the little porch upon which he stepped.
That which he now saw pleased him still more, for an old-fashioned
latchstring hung outside in accord with the primitive form of welcome.
When the leathern string thus shows it says: “Come in without knocking.”
All the same, Harvey hardly felt warranted in accepting the invitation.
Instead, he knocked sharply, and straightway bumped into another
surprise. He heard quick footsteps, the lifting of the latch from
within, and then the door was drawn back. He had raised his hat in
salutation but recoiled in pleased astonishment.
“Well, I declare!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t expect to meet _you_ here.”
“Nor did I think I should ever see you again,” was the reply, as the
girl extended her hand, which was grasped and shaken.
She was Ann Harbor, the daughter of the keeper of the Washington Hotel
in Purvis, where Harvey had spent a night a short time before.
“Come in,” said she hospitably; “Aunty will be as glad as me to see
you.”
Harvey stepped across the threshold into the living-room of the
tidy dwelling. Seated at the opposite window was a small, neat,
motherly-looking woman in spectacles engaged in sewing. She looked up
with a winsome smile and greeted the visitor as his name was announced.
She was Hephzibah Akers, sister of the landlord of the Washington
Hotel, in Purvis, with whom her niece Ann was a favorite. Hat in one
hand, the young aviator bowed and extended the other to the woman. She
motioned him to a chair and expressed her pleasure in welcoming him to
her humble home. After a few commonplaces, Harvey turned to Ann, who
had also seated herself.
“You are quite a distance from Purvis?” he said inquiringly.
“Not so very far,” she replied lightly; “Aunty doesn’t come to see us
often, so I run up to see her.”
“I am not as young as she is,” replied the elder, “and she is kind
enough to come to see me, though not half as often as I should like to
have her come.”
“How long have you been here?” asked Harvey.
“I left home yesterday morning; bus’ness is dull with paw just now and
he let me come up to Aunty’s for a day or two. I shall have to go back
to-morrow or next day. Now, how is it _you_ are here when I thought you
had gone to your home in New Jersey?”
The visitor had considered this question before it was asked. He
decided that the best course was to be frank with the woman. So in a
few words he told them that Professor Morgan had taken the colored lad
with him, and since the aviator was known to be unbalanced in mind,
Harvey was doing his utmost to get his friend away before it was too
late. The story was so absorbing that Aunty ceased her sewing while she
and her niece listened.
“I did go to my home,” added Harvey, “but came back as soon as I could.”
“Did you stay at our hotel last night?” asked Ann.
“No, your father likes the Professor better than he does me and I
thought it best not to let any one know I was in the neighborhood.”
“I guess you did right, for what you say is true. The night of the day
you went away, the Professor stayed a good while at the hotel after
supper and he and paw had a long talk. I was in and out of the room
most of the time, so I heard nearly all they said. Paw told him you had
gone off and we’d never see you agin; the Professor said it was lucky
for you that you’d done so, for if you come round poking your nose into
other people’s bus’ness, you wouldn’t live to try it a second time.”
“Mercy!” exclaimed the shocked Aunty; “why did he say _that_?”
“’Cause he’s crazy,” was the prompt explanation of her niece.
“Ann is right the Professor has formed a plan which no one but a
lunatic could think out; it is that of crossing the Atlantic Ocean with
his aeroplane and of taking the colored boy with him. If they ever try
it, it will be the last of both. I cannot rest idle if there is any
way to prevent them.”
“Of course not,” assented Aunty; “it would be wicked if you didn’t do
your best to stop it. Can Ann and I help you?” she asked with such
childlike simplicity that Harvey smiled.
“I see no way unless you have some information to give.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“You have seen the Professor and his airship, I suppose?”
“Several times. I went to the spring on last Sunday morning for a pail
of water, when the thing skimmed over my head so low that I ducked,
though there wasn’t any need.”
“Which way was it traveling?”
“Straight north,” she replied, indicating the direction by gesture.
“Did the man give any attention to you?”
“He didn’t seem to see me, but was staring ahead, with his hands on the
levers each side of him. He didn’t look down, but the person with him
did.”
“Ah!” said the interested Harvey; “he had a companion then?”
“Yes; it must have been the young man you spoke of, for I remember he
had a black face; he leaned over, waved his hand at me and shouted
some words which I didn’t catch. He was sitting beside the Professor.”
“That was Bohunkus. When he and I sailed together, he never lost a
chance of saluting every one who looked up at him. Now, Aunty, you tell
me you saw an aerocar going northward; can you tell me how far it went?”
The woman shook her head.
“I watched him till my eyes ached. I can’t see very well with my
glasses and he soon passed out of sight.”
“But what was his course?”
“Not exactly north, but a little to the east of north, toward Dix
Peak and the Schroon River. He may have kept on to Nipple Top and
Elizabethtown or even farther.”
“What time of the day was this?”
“A little after breakfast. I was expecting Gideon and had waited for
him, but he must have been too busy to come home.”
“And may I know who Gideon is?”
“Why haven’t you heard of Gid Akers?” asked the surprised niece; “he’s
one of the greatest guides in the Adirondacks. He is off now with a
party, near Sanford Lake and Mount McMartin. He’s been hired till the
end of August, but manages to take a run down here once in awhile.”
“You know I never was in the Adirondacks till the other day and really
know nothing of them. You tell me, Aunty, that it was on Sunday morning
that you saw the couple going northward in the airship. Did you see
them return?”
“That was the funny part of it,” replied the woman with a smile; “I
was home alone all day, busy about the house, for I don’t often get to
church, when I went out again to the spring. I was dipping up water,
when a queer shadow whisked over me and made me look up. There was the
Professor, as you call him, going with the speed of the wind to the
south.”
“Alone?”
“Yes; he paid no more attention to me than before, though he must have
seen me, but the seat beside him didn’t hold any one.”
This information was important, as confirming a part of Harvey
Hamilton’s theory: Professor Morgan had carried Bohunkus Johnson to
some spot at an uncertain distance to the north, and left him there,
with orders to stay until his master was ready to pick him up and start
across the Atlantic.
“He went north again this morning,” said the visitor, “and of course
was alone.”
“Where were you when you saw him?” asked the lady.
“On the other side of the ridge to the south, where I had hidden my
aeroplane.”
His listeners showed their astonishment.
“Have you got one of them things too?” asked Ann.
“I should have explained that I came all the way from home this second
time in such a machine.”
“Why didn’t you come here in it?” asked Aunty; “I should dearly love to
see one when it isn’t whizzing like a bird through the air.”
“You shall have a ride in mine, if it can possibly be arranged, and you
too, Ann, for your kindness to me.”
The big gray eyes sparkled.
“That will be bully--I mean splendaceous. Ain’t you afeard something
will happen to it, while you’re gone?”
“I think not; it is well screened from sight, unless some one should
happen to pass near. I was afraid to use it to come any farther lest
the Professor should discover me. It is necessary that I should prevent
that at all costs.”
“Where did you stay last night?”
“In the woods with my aeroplane. You remember the weather was mild,
and I was comfortable in my thick coat.”
He did not think it worth while to tell them of his experience with the
bear.
“Where did you have breakfast?”
“I didn’t have any, and only a bite or two last night and, Ann, if you
ever want to look upon a starving fellow, just take a good look at me.”