Plots and Counter-Plots
After a wakeful night in Harbor Grace the girls arose for an early
start. It was scarcely dawn when Terry and Prim took off from the
airport and headed toward the big rock from which point they could see
_The Crate_. They had no doubt in their minds that Bud Hyslop was
responsible for the disappearance of Allan and Syd. They must find Bud
and make him talk.
No one had seen or heard of him at Harbor Grace. Where was he hiding?
The girls decided to keep watch.
“He’s apt to come back to _The Crate_,” said Prim.
“I’m not so sure of that,” answered Terry. “If he has _The Comet_,
he’s not particular what happens to the old plane. What I’d like to
know is, what did he do with the boys?”
Terry kept the plane at high speed. Suddenly she looked around. “The
fog, Prim. Look at that great mountain of fog behind us.”
“What will we do, Terry?” asked Prim.
“Nothing to do but run,” said Terry with a shrug. “We’ll put _Skybird_
down on the plateau by the big rock.”
“Can’t we get back to Harbor Grace?” asked Prim anxiously.
But Terry was already circling for a landing and did not answer her
sister. The little plane bumped over the rocky surface and then stood
still. With the motor stopped, Terry turned to her sister.
“I had to come down, it’s not safe to fly in this fog! And as you see,
there wasn’t a chance of getting back to the airport. It’s like a
thick blanket in that direction.”
“And it’s closing in on us. There’s nothing to do but make the best of
it here,” answered the easy-going Prim. “But we may freeze to death.
This fog is like an icy wind, it goes clear through you.”
Terry walked up and down to get warm, as the fog pierced her thick
coat.
“How long will it last, Terry?” asked Prim. “This is terrible!”
“There’s no telling. This Newfoundland fog often hangs around for
days,” replied her sister.
“That’s a cheerful prospect,” said Prim dolefully. “In that case we’d
better make our way to that little fishing village. It’s near this
rock. At least it looked that way from the plane.”
But Terry interrupted. “No, let’s stick it out as long as we can by
ourselves. I don’t like to mix with people.”
“You’d better get over that idea, Terry Mapes. What’s the matter with
you anyway, why don’t you like everybody the way I do? And let me tell
you one thing right now. We may have to go down there to find out
about Allan and Syd—or we may find Bud Hyslop there. There’s no
telling. So don’t you put on that superior air.”
“I won’t Prim, truly, I won’t. I guess it’s more bashfulness than
anything else. I really like people but I never know what to say to
them,” responded Terry.
“Then think up a good line of talk right now, and make it nice and
friendly. We don’t want any more enemies. Bud’s plenty!”
The practical Prim was already looking about the plateau for a
suitable place to build a fire.
“Go get some dry twigs, Terry!” she said.
“Where will I find anything dry in this fog? Why not use the alcohol
stove?” asked Terry.
“We’d better save that. You don’t know how long we’ll have to stay out
here and in another hour things will be still wetter. You can hardly
see _Skybird_ now, the fog is so thick.”
Terry scrambled around the rocks, digging into crevices for dry roots
and twigs. Prim broke them into tiny bits and made a neat little pile.
“Some fire!” teased Terry. “Just big enough to heat something in a
spoon.”
“You needn’t laugh, Terry Mapes! You know well enough I’m a champion
fire builder and I say that the smaller your fire is, the better. You
only want blaze enough to cover the bottom of your kettle. If it comes
out beyond that it’s apt to make your food smoky.”
“All right, have it your own way,” said Terry with a laugh. “I leave
it all to you. Just as long as you don’t ask me to cook, I’ll let you
do anything you want to do. Here’s the tin egg box.”
Soon the smell of bacon and eggs made them ravenous. They found a
shelter under a wind-stunted tree and spread out their meal.
“Isn’t it delicious!” exclaimed Prim. “I don’t believe food is as good
when cooked over a gas fire. I’m sure I never tasted anything like
these fried eggs.”
“No need to ask me if I enjoy them. Just watch my speed,” returned
Terry, buttering a slice of bread. “That’s one nice thing about
aviators, they never pick over their food. They’re always hungry!”
At that moment the crackling of brush was heard below the cliff. Prim
grabbed Terry’s arm.
“Oh what is it, Terry? I’m frightened. Maybe it’s a wild animal!”
“Hush, Prim. Keep still. It’s a man.”
“Then hide and he won’t see us,” whispered Prim.
“We can’t hide _Skybird_. I’m not afraid,” replied Terry as she rose
to her feet just as the dim figure of a man came up the trail to the
summit. The girl took a few steps toward the intruder.
“Who’s there?” she demanded sternly.
The next moment she stood face to face with Bud Hyslop.
Bud stared as if he were seeing ghosts, then he demanded with an angry
glare, “What are you doing here, Terry Mapes? What brought you to
Newfoundland?”
“I might ask _you_ the same question, Bud Hyslop,” replied Terry,
flaring with anger.
But the sensible Prim came to the rescue. “Why, we came up to find
Allan and Syd. They’re missing. They must have been forced down on the
island.”
“Then we’re on the same errand,” replied Bud. “I started to go to
Florida but was delayed, so when the word came that the boys were
missing, I just turned around and came on up here to help find them.
I’ve scoured the country everywhere for them. But they’re gone!
Disappeared without any clue.”
Terry watched Bud. She was almost certain that the boy was not telling
the truth. She felt sure that he knew the whereabouts of Allan and
Syd.
But the story he told half convinced Prim. “Maybe he _is_ telling the
truth, Terry,” she whispered at the first opportunity. “Maybe his
intentions are good.”
“Good intentions!” stormed Terry in a low voice. “I wouldn’t trust
that fellow as far as I could see him.”
Bud was talking once more. “You haven’t a chance of getting back to
Harbor Grace today in this fog. You’d better come down to Jim Heron’s
place where you can keep warm and get something to eat.”
“We’ve had our breakfast,” answered Terry, her head high, her nose in
the air.
Prim gave her a dig with her elbow. Terry understood and when her
sister agreed to the plan, Terry followed without a word. “Prim is
always so sensible,” thought Terry. “Whatever would I do without her?
She’s my balance wheel.”
“It’s warm there and it’s only a few hundred feet down the cliffside
by the shore,” said Bud as he led the way.
Terry and Prim scrambled down the trail to the narrow inlet called
Fish Cove, where rude shelters had been put up to house the fishermen
and their families. A sickening odor of salted fish came to them long
before they could see the houses in the sheltered canyon.
Bud took the girls by a round-about trail leading to Jim Heron’s
house. It was the largest building in Fish Cove and stood there like a
fortress, a two storied stone building, grim and forbidding in the
fog.
Terry grabbed her sister by the arm. “What a house! It looks like a
prison.”
Prim was trembling. “I don’t want to go in there. It’s spookey! I’d
rather be cold outside in the fog.”
But at that moment a girl opened the door. From her face and figure
one could not have told whether she was a boy or girl. Her straight
hair was cut short and plastered down close to her head. Her face was
angular with large features. Only her torn gingham dress proclaimed
her a girl. Over her thin shoulders she wore a man’s coat, which added
to the boyish appearance.
The girl’s face was pitifully sad. And when she saw Bud Hyslop, a look
of distrust made her frown but this changed to a smile when she caught
a glimpse of the two girls. She started forward as if to greet them,
then hesitated as she looked once more at Bud.
But through the wide open door Terry and Prim caught sight of a
glowing, old-fashioned fireplace.
“I’ve brought some friends of mine,” explained Bud. “They came on the
same errand I did. Got caught in the fog and were forced down. This is
Sally Wyn, girls. Now I’ll leave you to get acquainted and go and see
Jim Heron.”
“I’m Terry Mapes, and this is my twin sister, Prim,” announced Terry.
“I’m so glad to find a girl of our own age around here.”
Sally led the girls inside and offered them a chair, while she hurried
to steep some tea over the glowing coals. In the gloomy interior the
fire lit up Sally’s face. Her features were good. She looked kind and
sweet. But the lines about her mouth were sad and bitter. The girls
pitied her.
When Terry explained that they had just had their breakfast on the
plateau, Sally looked so disappointed that they were forced to eat
more. The tea and doughnuts tasted good.
While they were eating, a complaining voice called from the next room,
“Get to work, Sally. What you doing now? Bring me a cup of tea.”
Sally jumped up. “She’s awfully cranky since she’s been laid up with a
broken leg. Keeps at me all the time,” said the girl in a weary voice.
“I don’t know what to do to please her.”
“Who is she, anyway?” asked Terry.
“She’s Nancy Heron, that’s Jim Heron’s wife. They live here,” answered
the girl as she went about her work.
Terry and Prim wanted to question her further, but Sally’s lips had
drawn together in a bitter line. They feared that they had offended
her.
Who was this girl? And what was that old woman to her? Terry longed to
know, but now was not the time to ask.
As Sally leaned over the fire, the girls watched her intently. She did
not seem to belong to this sinister looking house. Even with the
blazing wood fire the room felt damp and uncomfortable. They shuddered
at the thought of any girl living here and calling it home.
While the tea was preparing for Nancy, Sally flew about the kitchen,
tidying up and whenever her footsteps paused, the voice always called
her to account.
“Such a life!” thought Terry. “I’m glad I’m not Sally Wyn.”
Yet this was the only home that Sally knew. A few minutes later she
said, “I just happened to be home this week. Mrs. Heron broke her leg
and Mrs. Armes, the lady I work for, let me come to help.”
“That’s nice!” said Terry. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Sally looked up quickly. Most people didn’t care where Sally was. She
was not used to appreciation and now she wondered if Terry really
meant it. Sally smiled. Her whole face changed with that smile. She
was almost pretty, thought Terry.
Suddenly Terry jumped up. “Wonder why Bud doesn’t come back,” she said
in a whisper to Prim. “I don’t trust that fellow. I think we’d better
see if our plane is all right,” Terry said aloud.
“Let me go up with you and see your plane,” pleaded Sally. “I can be
ready just in a minute, as soon as I take this tea to old Nancy.”
“Take your time, Sally, we’ll wait,” said both girls together.
A few minutes later the three girls left the cabin. Outside they met
Jim Heron, a tall, ungainly man who glared at them with piercing eyes.
He carried a shotgun across his shoulder, which added to his fierce
appearance.
“Git back there!” he shouted. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I wonder what Jim’s doing with that shotgun,” said Sally “This isn’t
shooting weather.”
Jim beckoned them to come back then suddenly he turned aside. “All
right, go! The harm’s done!”
“What does he mean by that, Sally? What harm?” asked Terry.
The girls ran swiftly up the trail. At the summit they understood Jim
Heron’s remark. As they stepped on the plateau _Skybird_ was just
leaving the ground. Bud Hyslop at the controls guided the little craft
straight out into a bank of fog.
Terry screamed.
“Oh, Prim! Bud’s stolen our plane! He’s taken _Skybird_!” she cried.
“Keep quiet, Terry. Nothing can be done by getting angry and shouting.
Maybe he’ll bring it back,” said Prim.
“No he won’t! He’s stolen _Skybird_! He’ll crash in this fog! Oh,
Prim, what can we do?”
Prim was just as worried as Terry over the danger to their little
plane, but she controlled herself. Terry was trembling with anger.
Prim took her arm.
“Don’t worry so, Terry. Maybe things will come out all right.”
At that moment the tall form of Jim Heron appeared. He had suddenly
decided that he had better keep his eyes on the girls. Terry ran to
him.
“Bud Hyslop has stolen our plane,” she cried indignantly, looking to
the old man for sympathy.
“Don’t you worry none, Miss,” replied Jim Heron. “Bud’s all right.
He’ll bring your plane back. He just went over to Harbor Grace on an
errand. He’s just borrowed that plane.”
Terry wanted to ease her mind by expressing her honest opinion about
Bud Hyslop but a look from Prim quieted her. She frowned, then held
her lips tight-pressed. With her head high she started down the trail
after Jim Heron. Her manner was very angry, superior and haughty.
Prim grabbed her by the arm: “Terry Mapes behave yourself. If we are
ever going to find Allan and Syd, we’ve got to keep in with these
people. Maybe the old man knows something about the boys.”
Terry asked Jim Heron, but the old man shook his head. “I never saw
the boys at all. Bud says his two friends crashed up here somewhere
and he’s hunting them. And you’re doing the same thing, he told me.
You’re working together like partners.”
Terry laughed outright, then walked on without a word. As they were
coming down the cliff, they heard Nancy Heron calling in her cracked
and peevish voice:
“Sally Wyn! Where are you? Get to work! I’ll have no idling in my
house!”
“Now Prim, there is one thing sure,” Terry whispered to her sister.
“Bud Hyslop has proven that he is our enemy. We know now where he
stands. I wish I knew whether Jim Heron is in on Bud’s scheme.”
As they neared the house Terry thought of a plan. She approached Jim
Heron and asked him to take them to Harbor Grace. “Surely there’s a
launch in Fish Cove,” she said.
“What do you want to go to Harbor Grace for?” demanded Jim
suspiciously. “What are you going to do there?”
“I want to telegraph my father so he’ll know we’re all right.”
Jim Heron refused flatly and firmly. Terry insisted and Jim was not
used to arguments with women. He lost his patience and stormed at
them.
“Into the house you go!” he said, as he thrust them ahead of him
through the door. “Now don’t you step your foot across the sill until
I give you leave. And that won’t be until Bud returns. That’s his
order!”
“Oh, now I see. Bud Hyslop told you to watch us and not let us get
away. Is that it?” demanded Terry.
“Right you are, Miss! You caught my meaning. You’re my prisoners! And
do you hear that, Sally Wyn? We’re not to let the girls out of our
sight!”
Sally looked at the girls, her face was flushed, fear was in her dark
eyes. She did not answer the man.
“Do you hear me?” Jim Heron shouted at her.
“Yes sir!” replied Sally, not daring to meet the glances of her new
friends.
Jim Heron went outside and sat down on a rude bench before the door.
He held his shotgun in his hand.
“Prisoners!” said Terry under her breath. “What do you know about
that!” She looked around the room and what she saw was not reassuring
for the old stone house looked very much like a prison.
But Terry was game. Her lip curled disdainfully.
“Prisoners, indeed!” she said with a shrug. “Just wait and see, Bud
Hyslop!”