_Captive_
Linda and her companions stopped in front of a large tent that was
dimly lighted within by a lantern. Two men were standing inside--one
bending over an oil cook-stove, the other at the door.
"We got Linda!" announced "Slats" triumphantly. "Without even smashing
her plane!"
He pushed through the doorway, past the other man, and deposited Susie
on a cot by the wall of the tent.
The man at the stove, a big, fat, repulsive looking brute, turned
around and uttered an ugly, "Hah!"
"Susie hurt?" inquired the tall, thin man who had been standing at the
edge of the tent.
"Yeah. Crashed her plane. I've got some scratches meself, but I ain't
whinin'!"
"My ankle's broken!" sobbed Susie, unable to suffer any longer in
silence. "Hurry up and get some bandages, Doc!"
Linda, who had been standing perfectly still during this conversation,
was startled by the use of the name "Doc." Was it possible that this
man was a physician? If so, wouldn't he perhaps be above the level of
the others--and might she not expect, if not sympathy, at least fair
play from him? But "Slats" instantly shattered her hopes with his
explanation.
"This is the 'Doc,' Linda," he said. "We call him that because he fixes
up all our aches and cuts for us. In a profession like our'n, it ain't
safe to meddle with 'saw-bones' and hospitals. They keep records."
Linda smiled at the idea of calling robbery a "profession," but she
made no comment.
"So long as you'll be with us fer a while," continued her captor, "I'll
interduce you to everybody. That there cook is 'Beefy.' Ain't he a good
ad for his own cookin'?"
Linda nodded; she could hardly be expected to laugh at such a poor joke
under the circumstances.
"You can go over and wash--there's water in Susie's tent--if you want
to, while the 'Doc' fixes Susie up. Then we'll eat."
Glad to be alone for a moment, Linda stepped across to the tent which
the man had indicated, hidden behind some pine trees a few yards away.
Guiding herself by her flash-light, she found the entrance, and dropped
down on a cot inside.
Letting the light go off, she sat, dry-eyed and utterly hopeless,
staring into the darkness. What terrible fate was hanging over her,
she dared not imagine. Would they torture her, perhaps, if her father
refused to raise the ransom, and called the police to his aid?
In these last few hours she had learned to realize how infinitely
crueler human-beings were than the elements of nature. The ice and
snow, the cold winds of Canada, or the vast, trackless depths of the
Atlantic could never bring about such untold agony as these fiends
in human form. She almost wished that she had gone down, like Bess
Hulbert, in the ocean, before she had lived to learn how evil men could
be.
A call from the mess-tent, as she supposed the larger one to be,
aroused her from her unhappy meditations, and she hastily turned on
the light and washed from a pitcher of water on a soap-box in Susie's
tent.
When she returned to the group, she found them already seated about a
board table, plunging into the food like hungry animals. Susie, who
sat with her bandaged ankle propped up on a box, was the only one who
ate with any manners at all. But it had been a long time since Linda
had tasted food, and she was too hungry to be deterred by the sight of
"Beefy" putting his fingers into his plate. So she sat down next to
Susie, and silently started to eat.
She found the meal exceedingly good, and was surprised at her own
appetite, for she hardly expected to be able to enjoy anything under
the circumstances.
The lantern threw a weird, ghastly light over the strange, ugly faces
about her, and the silence was unbroken, except by the noise and
clatter of eating. A tenseness took possession of her; she wished
desperately that somebody would say something. It was exactly like a
horrible dream, whose spell could not be destroyed. And still no one
uttered a word until the meal was concluded.
"You girls can go to bed now," Slats announced, finally. "I'll carry
you over, Susie, and give you a gun, in case Linda tries to sneak off
in the night." He smiled with vicious triumph.
"I'm afraid that wouldn't do me any good," replied Linda, trying to
make her voice sound normal. "I haven't an idea where I am."
"On Black Jack Island, in the Okefenokee Swamp," he again told her.
"With water all around you. Get that! You can't get away, without a
boat or a plane. And I'm tellin' you now, I seen to it that your Bug's
bone-dry!"
With a conceited grin, he leaned over and picked up his wife so roughly
that she cried out in pain.
When they were alone, the girls took off some of their outer garments,
and lay down on their cots. Linda longed to talk, but she was afraid to
begin, for fear it would only lead to some sort of punishment. So she
lay still, trying to forget her troubles, to believe everything would
come out right in the end, when her father paid the ransom.
She was just dozing off, when she was abruptly aroused by agonized sobs
from her tent-mate. She sat up and asked her companion whether there
was anything she could get her. But Susie did not answer; she continued
to cry wildly like a child of six.
"Oh, my ankle! My ankle!" she moaned. And then she used worse language
than any Linda had ever heard--from man or woman.
Linda was sorry for her, but she could not help contrasting this girl's
cowardice in the face of physical pain with Dot Crowley's, when the
latter had met with a similar accident, and had smiled bravely at the
hurt. She thought, too, of Ted Mackay's courage in the hospital, and
Susie suffered by the comparisons.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, again.
"No. Only take me to a _real_ doctor--or a hospital."
"I'd be glad to, if your husband would let me fly my plane!"
"Well, he won't!" There followed more oaths. "What does he care--so
long as he ain't the one that's hurt?" She continued to cry
hysterically, until a snarling order came from without the tent.
"Shut up your noise!" bawled her husband, and Susie softened her
sobbing.
Linda lay very still, thinking. Dared she suggest that the other girl
deceive her husband--or would she only be punished for such an idea?
She decided to give it a try.
"You must know where the men keep the gasoline," she whispered.
"Wouldn't you rather have your ankle fixed right, and not run the
chance of being a cripple for life?"
"What do you mean?" demanded Susie, raising her head from her pillow.
"I mean--wait till the men are asleep, and then you tell me where
the gas is, and we'll sneak off. I'd take you to a hospital, and I'd
promise never to tell on you."
"And lose all that ransom money? Slats'd never forgive me!"
"But what good's money, if you're a cripple?" countered Linda.
"Yeah--I see what you mean," agreed Susie. "Only we'd never get
away with it. They'd hear us gettin' out--remember I can't walk by
myself.... No, Linda--it's no go."
Disappointed, Linda dropped back on the cot, seeing that further
argument was no use, and, fortunately, fell quickly asleep. Had she
not been so tired, she would probably have been disturbed during
the night, for Susie tossed and moaned without any regard for her
companion. But Linda slept the sleep of exhaustion.
Just as dawn was beginning to show a faint light through the door of
the tent, Linda was rudely awakened by a gruff voice. Startled, she
looked into the unpleasant face of Susie's husband, and she shuddered
as she recalled where she was. The thought flashed into her mind that
soldiers and criminals were usually shot at sunrise, and her hands
shook with fear. What was the man going to do to her?
"Get up, Linda!" he commanded. "You're working today."
"Working?"
"Yeah. Flying."
"Where?" she demanded, with a trace of hope. If she were allowed to
fly, there might be some hope of escape.
"Across the swamp. To an island out in the ocean."
"Oh!"
An island! It sounded like imprisonment. She thought of Napoleon on St.
Helena, and she remembered the stories of the cruelties to the French
convicts, sentenced to die on an island. Terrible climate, probably,
reeking with disease. A slow death that would be far greater torture
than being shot--hours of lingering agony, when she would think of her
father and her aunt, and of the suffering that she was causing them!
And, worst of all, no one to rescue her, as Ted had twice saved her
from disasters that were not half so dreadful!
But she did not cry; she was disgusted with tears after the way that
Susie had carried on the night before, over her sprained ankle. After
all, it was no one else's fault that she had selected this job; she had
taken it on, and she must see it through, no matter what the outcome.
When she had washed and dressed, she walked over to the big tent, where
she found breakfast ready. Bacon and eggs and coffee--and even oranges!
Evidently they meant to feed her well--for this much she could be
thankful.
She ate in silence with the three men, for Slats did not carry Susie
to the table. When they had finished, and the men were lighting their
pipes, Slats pushed back his tin plate and began to talk.
"Our idea in running you down was to get a neat little ransom, Linda,"
he repeated, with the same triumphant grin which she had grown to
loathe. She winced, too, at each repetition of her first name, though
there was no way that she could stop him from using it.
"We figgered your old man could come across with a couple hundred
thousand to get you back. When we get ready, we'll let him know. But in
the meantime, we ain't ready."
He winked knowingly at Beefy, and a cold shiver of fear crept over
Linda. If they would only get the thing over quickly! Anything would be
better than the awful suspense.
The speaker laughed at her expression of terror.
"Don't be scared, Linda. We ain't a goin' a hurt you.... It just
happens we need you for a couple days in our business."
"Your business?" she faltered.
"Yeah. We got some jewelry right here in this tent worth about a
hundred grand. We fly across to an island with it, where a steamer
picks it up and gets it to our agent in South America."
"But what has that to do with me?" asked Linda. Did they mean to leave
her on the island, or send her to South America?
"Just this: we're usin' your Bug and you as pilot fer the job. Susie's
the only one of our gang can fly, and now she and the Jenny are busted,
we'll use you. Get me?"
Linda nodded, sadly. So she was to be made to play a criminal part in
their ugly game! How she wished they would be caught!
"And you needn't scheme to get away," Slats added. "Because I'll be
right behind you, with me gun loaded!"
Linda made no reply; after all there was nothing to be said. She must
take his orders, or be instantly killed.
"Ready now?" he inquired, satisfied with her silence. "We always work
early in the day. Maybe you better come over with me and take a look at
your plane, and I'll give you some gas. See if she's O.K."
Dutifully Linda accompanied the man to the edge of the island, and
there was the autogiro, safe and sound as ever--her only friend in the
world, it seemed!
She looked about her at the marshy water, the trees and vegetation of
the swamp, and then up into the sky, which she searched vainly for an
airplane. But except for the birds, there was no sign of life in that
desolate, vast expanse of land and sky. Not a human habitation in sight!
Desperately, she wished that she could think of some plan to outwit
this lawless gang, but everything seemed hopeless, as long as Slats
carried that pistol aimed at her head. So she meekly inspected the
autogiro and climbed into the cock-pit.
Her companion was in a good humor; he was enjoying the whole situation
immensely, pleased at his own cleverness. He liked to fly, and he
admired the autogiro; he even went so far as to say he believed he'd
keep this one for Susie.
Linda said nothing, but she was thinking what a mistake that would
be for him to make. Much as she would hate to lose her autogiro, she
realized that its possession would give the gang away to the police. It
was one thing to steal jewelry and money, and another to take a plane,
of a make of which there were only perhaps a hundred in existence.
They flew over the trees, eastward to the prairie land, and then on
through the coastal plain to the Atlantic Ocean. Whether they were
crossing Florida or Georgia, Linda did not know, and for once she was
not interested in the country. The sun rose as they came to the water,
but that beautiful sight, too, made no impression upon the unhappy
girl. Nothing but the sight of a plane or a boat--the promise of
rescue--could have any meaning for her.
On and on she went, leaving the land behind them, until finally they
sighted an island possibly five miles out. The man behind her shouted
to her to land, and she circled about, finally coming down on the beach.
As she brought her autogiro to earth, she was once more impressed by
the loneliness, the barrenness of it all. No habitation of any kind,
not even a tent! Motionless she sat in the cock-pit, wondering whether
she couldn't get away while this thief was unloading his treasure.
Slats, however, was too wise for any such trick; he commanded Linda to
get out of the plane, and help him carry a heavy box across the island
where a growth of bushes concealed a hole in the ground, which was
evidently the pre-arranged hiding-place. In silence they buried the
treasure and returned to the autogiro.
Retracing their course under his direction, Linda flew back to the
encampment. Here they found the others finishing their lunch, and Susie
was sitting with them, apparently much brighter and better, for she was
laughing and talking to her companions.
As Linda and her captor finished their meal, a stranger put in his
stealthy appearance at the door of the tent. He was well-dressed, in
riding-breeches, and clean-shaven. Linda's heart gave a wild bound of
hope. Was it possible that this man was an officer of the law, and the
criminals were caught?
But Beefy's greeting to the visitor instantly dispelled her hopes.
"Hello, Jake!" he exclaimed. "What's new?"
"Everything ripe for tonight," announced the new-comer, briefly. "Ready
to start now?"
Slats stood up. "O.K. with me," he said. "Want some grub first, Jake?"
"No--I just ate." The stranger turned smilingly to Linda. "And how's
the most famous girl-pilot in the world?"
Linda recoiled in horror. So he too knew all about the plot to catch
her! Another member of this terrible gang!
As she did not answer, he shrugged his shoulders.
"Got the lines out about her yet?" he inquired, of the other men.
"No," replied Slats. "We had a smash-up--wrecked Susie and the Jenny,
so we'll need Linda to fly her plane for us till this job's over
tonight. I'll give you the high sign when I'm ready to let her old man
know."
The four men stood together at the door of the tent.
"We're leaving for a day--maybe two," Slats informed Linda. "But
Susie's watching you, with a gun. And your plane's dry, so I wouldn't
advise to try any get-away. There's swamps everywhere....
"So long...."
A moment later the girls heard the men tramp away to the boat that the
new-comer had brought to the edge of the island.