THE ENEMY STRIKES
In the middle of the night, Jack awoke with a start, and lay silent a
moment, listening, wondering what had aroused him. The next moment he
heard a cry outside his window of "Jack, Jack, wake up."
It was Frank's voice. Leaping from bed, Jack sprang to the upflung
window overlooking the side lawn nearest the Temple house. Outside in
the moonlight stood Frank, a pair of trousers pulled over his pajamas,
hands cupped to his mouth. He was preparing to yell again.
"What's the matter?" called Jack.
"The hangar's afire. Tom Barnum saw the blaze from your radio station
and called the house. I'm off. Come as fast as you can."
Turning, Frank plunged away toward the airplane hangar, clutching at
his trousers as he ran. Jack could not help laughing a little at the
ridiculous spectacle which his chum provided. Then he turned back to
the room and started feverishly to dress, ignoring everything except
trousers, shirt and shoes. While he was thus engaged, the voice of
Captain Folsom hailed him sleepily from next room.
"You up, old man? Thought I heard voices. Anything the matter?"
"Yes, there is," replied Jack, going to the communicating door. "Tom
Barnum, the mechanic-watchman in charge of our radio plant, which
isn't far from the Temples' airplane hangar, says the latter is afire.
Frank and Bob already are on the way down, and stopped to warn me."
"Afire?" cried Captain Folsom, leaping from his bed, and reaching for
his trousers. "That's bad. Just when we need the airplane, too, to spy
on these rascals. Half a minute, old man, and I'll be with you. Not so
devilish easy to get into trousers with one arm."
"Can I help you?" proffered Jack. "I'm all fixed. Here, let me lace
your shoes."
"Well, if you insist," said Captain Folsom.
As Jack deftly laced up the other's shoes, he said in an anxious
tone:
"Do you think, sir, those people set the fire? It would be a
catastrophe if the plane burned just at this particular time, wouldn't
it? There. All ready."
"Mighty good of you," said Captain Folsom. "Lead on, then, and I'll
follow. As to the fire, I'll reserve opinion until I get the facts.
But these liquor smugglers are unscrupulous, and if they feared the
airplane was being used against them, they would have no compunctions
about burning it."
From the side of the house on which their rooms were located, Jack and
his guest were unable to see anything of the fire, as the hangar lay
in an opposite direction. But the moment they emerged outdoors, the
blaze showed dully against the sky above an intervening grove of
trees.
Without wasting breath in further speculation, Jack and Captain Folsom
started running for the scene. The hangar stood a considerable
distance away, and so fast had they covered the ground that they
arrived pretty well blown.
They found the airplane standing like a singed bird on the sands in
front of the hangar, and gathered about were Frank and Bob, Tom
Barnum, and Old Davey, Mr. Hampton's gardener.
"The wings are gone, Jack," said Bob, turning as his chum approached.
"But, thanks to Tom's rapid work with the extinguisher, the fire did
not reach the tank, and the old bus will be able to fly again after
she sprouts new wings."
Jack turned his gaze to the hangar. The sides and roof were of
corrugated iron. Practically the only wood in the construction was
that employed in the skidway. It needed only a glance to tell him the
latter had been torn up and piled inside the hangar where it was still
smouldering.
"What happened?" he asked.
There were excited answers from all, but presently the story was made
clear. Some miscreant apparently had forced open the doors of the
hangar, torn up the wooden planks and flooring of the skidway, piled
them inside and then set them afire. Probably whoever was guilty
employed this method in order to give himself time to escape before
the fire should attract attention. He had overlooked, however, the
presence of a large tank of chemicals with which to fight fire stored
at the rear of the hangar, and Tom Barnum, after telephoning the
Temple home, had appeared so quickly at the hangar that, by employing
the chemical extinguisher, he had managed to save the airplane from
being blown up. Old Davey, a light sleeper, had hurried over from his
cottage and the pair were in the act of pushing apart the burning
brands in order to wheel out the plane, when Bob and Frank arrived to
help them.
"Et's mighty cur'ous," said Old Davey, shaking his head dolefully;
"mighty cur'ous, the trouble you boys hev with thet airyplane. D'ye
think now et was them Mexicans comin' back?"
"No, Davey," said Jack. "Not this time. Some other set of rascals was
responsible."
"What does he mean, may I ask?" inquired Captain Folsom, his curiosity
aroused.
Briefly, Jack related to him how the previous summer two
representatives of a faction of Mexican bandits engaged in making war
on a group of independent oil operators headed by his father in New
Mexico, had appeared at the quiet Long Island home, stolen the
airplane, and flown with it to Old Mexico where they had employed it
in kidnapping Mr. Hampton. The boys, said Jack, not only had effected
Mr. Hampton's release but also had recovered the plane, as related in
"The Radio Boys On The Mexican Border."
"It's too long a story to be told now, however," he concluded, after
giving the above bare outline. "Some other time I'll give you the
details if you are interested."
"I certainly am interested," said Captain Folsom, regarding Jack with
increased respect. "To think of you boys having done all that!"
"Oh, it was fun," said Jack hastily, embarrassed by the other's
praise. "Come on, let's see what the fellows are doing."
The others proved to be engaged in spraying the last of the chemical
on the expiring embers of the blaze, and in stamping and beating out
the last of the fire. As the light died out, Bob fumbled for and found
the switch in the hangar and the electric lights sprang on.
"Whoever did this made a hurried job of it," said he. "I wonder----"
"What?" asked Jack.
"Oh, I was just wondering why the job was left uncompleted? Tom," he
added, turning to Tom Barnum; "how big was the blaze when you saw
it?"
"Nothin' much," answered the other, his round, good-natured face
shining through a fog of pipe smoke. "I was restless. Somethin' I et
for dinner, I guess. So I got up to smoke a pipe an' stroll around
outside the station a bit, to see if I couldn't get myself sleepy. My
room's back o' the power house, ye know. Well, as I come outside I see
a light over here. Not much bigger than a flashlight. But it was 2
o'clock in the mornin' an' I knew none o' you could be there. So I
thinks either that's fire or some rascal, an' telephoned you, then
hustled over here."
"That's it," said Bob. "That explains it. I was wondering why whoever
set this fire didn't make a more complete job of it, but I see now.
You probably scared him away."
"Might be," said Tom. "He might a heard me callin' to Old Davey as I
run past his cottage."
"Well," said Frank, "let's push the bus inside. She's not much good
till we get new wings, but we don't want to leave it out here all
night."
All lent a hand, and then as he started to swing shut the doors Bob
examined the lock and gave an exclamation.
"Not even broken open," he said, disgustedly. "I must have forgotten
to lock up when we left. Good night."
This time, he fastened the lock, and then fell in with his comrades
and the party started for their homes.
"Whoever did that wasn't far away," Captain Folsom said, thoughtfully.
"If we had made a search we might have gotten some trace of him. But
it is too late now. I imagine, of course, as I said to Mr. Hampton
here earlier, that our bootlegger friends set the fire. When they
discovered your airplane in their neighborhood, they feared it would
interfere with their plans and decided to get rid of it."
"Well, they got rid of it, all right," said Bob, "for to-night,
anyhow, as well as for some time come."
They proceeded in gloomy silence for the most part, although the voice
of Old Davey, an incorrigible conversationalist, floated back to them
from where he led the way with Tom Barnum. Where their courses
diverged, the pair waited for them to call "Good nights."
"I say," said Jack suddenly, to his companions as Tom and Old Davey
departed; "I have an idea. Let's go over to the radio station, just
for luck, and listen in on the ether to see whether we can pick up the
interference on the 1,375-meter wave length. Maybe, we can get some of
those dots and dashes, too, of which Captain Folsom spoke. It's only a
step or two out of our way."
Bob yawned sleepily but stumbled ahead for the station, without a
word, and Frank fell in with him. Jack called to Tom Barnum and ran
ahead, leaving Captain Folsom to proceed with his chums.
When the others arrived, the door of the station's transmitting room
stood open, the lights were turned on, and Jack already was seated at
the instrument table, a headpiece clamping the receivers to his ears
while he manipulated the tuner.
Bob slumped down on the outside step, and Frank took a seat beside
him, with an arm flung over his shoulders. The damage to their
airplane was felt keenly by both. Captain Folsom, with a pitying
glance at them, entered the station.
"Put on that headpiece," said Jack, motioning.
The other complied.
"By George," he cried, a moment later.