A SMALL EXPLOSION.
“Now,” suggested Ben as the purr of the motors came softly on the
evening air, “do you suppose Havens has really caught up with us?”
“Impossible!” cried Jimmie, “we’ve stopped a good many times on the
route, but he couldn’t overtake us, for all that, for the reason that he
wouldn’t leave New York before afternoon. According to that we would
have at least ten hours the start of him.”
“That’s right!” Ben agreed. “Perhaps the motors we hear belong to the
flying machine of some sport out for a twilight ride. There are a good
many aeroplanes passing between St. Louis and the east at this time of
the year. We may hear other machines before morning.”
“Suppose,” Carl suggested, with a startled expression in his eyes, “that
the clatter in the sky is caused by the flying machine operated by the
fellow who chased Jimmie up New York bay?”
“Then that would mean trouble,” Jimmie grinned. “But, say!” he went on
in a moment. “I wouldn’t mind meeting that fellow where the going was
good. I’d show him that his machine is a back number.”
The boys searched the sky eagerly for a light which would indicate the
position of the aeroplane. After a long time they saw a faint gleam
almost directly overhead. The airship seemed to be descending.
“I wish we hadn’t built this fire,” Ben suggested.
“Suppose we put it out!” Carl advised.
“No use now,” Ben put in. “The fellow knows exactly where we are.
Besides,” he went on, “if we should attempt to leave our present
location, the clatter of the motors would show him exactly where we
landed.”
“Then all we’ve got to do,” Jimmie explained, “is to remain right here
and watch our machines all night. That’s what I call a downright shame!”
“We don’t have to all watch at the same time,” Ben advised. “You boys go
to sleep after we get our supper and I’ll stick around until midnight.
Then one of you can go on guard until four in the morning and the other
watch until we get ready to leave.”
“That’s about the way we’ll have to do it,” Jimmie responded, “only,” he
went on, “if the fellow makes his appearance at the camp and tries any
funny business, the one on watch must wake the rest of us.”
This being agreed to, the boys ate a hearty supper and Jimmie and Carl
crawled into a hastily set up shelter-tent and were soon sound asleep.
Ben did not remain by the camp-fire after that. Instead, he took a
position beyond the circle of light, from which the machines were in
full view, and watched and listened for the appearance of the mysterious
aviator.
Directly the whirr of the motors came louder, and the boy saw the bulk
of an aeroplane outlined against the field of stars above.
It was quite evident that the stranger was seeking a place to land, and
Ben, resolving to take the initiative, hastened out into the field
swinging an electric searchlight.
“Now,” he thought, “we’ll see if this fellow wants to meet us face to
face, or whether he wants to sneak about in the darkness in order to
work mischief to our machines.”
After the boy had waved his searchlight for a moment a shout came from
above, and a machine every bit as large and as finely finished as the
_Louise_ came volplaning down to the field.
The rubber-tired wheels had scarcely ceased revolving in the soft earth
when Ben stood by the side of the machine, from which a man of about
thirty years—a tall, slender man, with very blue eyes and a very blond
head—was alighting.
“Hello, son!” the man exclaimed, as he came up to where the boy was
standing, “are you out on a trip for your health, too?”
“That’s about the size of it,” answered Ben.
“Where from?” was the next question asked.
“New York city,” was the reply.
“Good old town!” exclaimed the stranger, walking toward the fire as if
inclined to make himself quite at home.
“You bet it is!” answered Ben, following along close by his side and
watching his every move with suspicion.
The boy regretted now that he had not awakened his chums before giving
the signal to the stranger. There was no knowing what the man might
attempt to do. Ben did not fear physical violence for he considered
himself more than a match for the intruder. But he knew that a stick of
dynamite or some other destructive explosive tossed into the mechanism
of the machines would render them absolutely useless.
For this reason he watched the visitor closely, never taking his eyes
from the rather large and ham-like hands which swung pendulously at his
sides. The stranger did not appear to notice the attention he was
receiving.
“What I came down for,” he said as he approached the camp-fire and stood
warming his hands before the blaze, “was to ask questions.”
He smiled brightly as he spoke and gave a searching glance at the
shelter-tent where Jimmie and Carl were sleeping.
“It’s easy enough to ask questions,” suggested Ben.
“Easier than to get them answered,” responded the other. “I found that
out this afternoon.”
Ben eyed the stranger in wonder but asked no questions.
“About the middle of the afternoon,” the man went on, “I came upon a
machine lying in a little dell back in Indiana. I shot down with
something like the nerve I exercised in visiting you, and began talking
with the aviator. He certainly was about the most insignificant looking
specimen of humanity I ever saw.”
“Wait a minute,” smiled Ben. “He had a small, weazened face, large,
wing-like ears, and hunchy shoulders—shoulders which give one the
impression that he has spent the most of his life at the end of a
mucker’s shovel in the subway. Is that a good description?”
“A better one than I could have given!” answered the stranger. “You must
have seen him somewhere. I hope your experience with him was not so
unfortunate as mine.”
“He made you trouble, did he?” asked Ben.
“He stole a pocketful of spark plugs,” was the reply.
“Yet you seem to be traveling all right,” suggested the boy.
“Oh, he didn’t get all I had,” was the answer. “I volplaned down to him,
and he invited me to partake of a lunch he was serving himself on the
grass. Just for form’s sake, I sat down with him. Then he began asking
questions. He wanted to know where I came from, if I had seen any other
machines in the air that afternoon, and if I had heard anything of two
aeroplanes starting out on a journey across continent to the Pacific
coast. After a time his questions became personal.”
“And you answered them, I suppose!” laughed the boy.
“No, I didn’t,” returned the stranger. “I closed up like a clam in a
short time, and then he arose and, without my permission, began
examining my machine. To make a long story short, he got the spark plugs
out of a box under the seat without my knowing it. I never discovered
the loss until I was some distance away.”
“You left him there in the dell you speak of?” asked Ben.
“Yes, I left him there in a little hollow between two hills.”
“Why didn’t you go back after you had discovered your loss?” asked Ben,
suspiciously. “You might have caught him if you had gone back.”
The firelight was uncertain, and the visitor’s face was turned half
away, but Ben was almost certain that he saw the red blood mounting to
his temples. The man also seemed embarrassed by the question.
“I did go back,” he answered after a moment’s hesitation, “but the
fellow had disappeared. I thought this might be his fire.”
There was a short silence, during which Ben poked aimlessly at the
burning brands and the stranger looked critically around the camp. In a
moment, with a complimentary remark regarding the _Louise_ and the
_Bertha_, the intruder arose from the ground where he had been sitting
and walked carelessly toward the machines. Ben followed him, watching
every movement as if his life depended upon the scrutiny.
The two machines stood quite close together, and as the stranger
approached them Ben stepped a pace in advance and whirled about. The
stranger started back with an exclamation of surprise.
“We don’t permit strangers to inspect our aeroplanes,” Ben said.
“Pardon me,” the other smiled, “I really didn’t mean any harm. It is
quite natural that one should desire to inspect a beautiful machine.”
The stranger kept pushing on, and at last brought his thin body into
contact with the boy’s sturdy one. There was no doubt in the mind of the
boy now that the fellow was there for mischief. He struck out swiftly
from the shoulder, but the intruder dodged the blow neatly and, taking a
package from the right-hand pocket of his coat, hurled it toward the
aeroplanes. Ben’s clenched fist caught the other’s arm as the throw was
released, and the missile, whatever it was, went wide of the mark.
Ben saw the glitter of a shining surface in the firelight, and the next
instant an explosion which seemed to shake the earth sounded in his
ears. Without waiting to see the effect of the explosion, the stranger
faced about and ran at full speed toward the spot where he had left his
aeroplane.
Ben followed him a few paces and then, deciding that it would be unsafe
to leave the machines, turned back toward the camp-fire to see Jimmie
and Carl come tumbling out of the shelter tent, rubbing their sleepy
eyes. What Ben feared was that a second person had landed from the
stranger’s machine before it had shown above the camp-fire.
“What’s coming off here?” demanded Jimmie.
“Gee!” exclaimed Carl, “I thought that was the crack of doom!”
“Get down to the machines, quick, you boys!” Ben cried out. “There may
be some one trying to work them an injury.”
The two boys darted away, stopping only to secure electric flashlights,
and were soon seen examining the aeroplanes. Ben waited a moment for
some indications that the boys had met with a lurking enemy, and then
started away in pursuit of the treacherous aviator.
He was not in time, however, to stop the fellow before his machine
launched into the air. As his aeroplane rose, Ben saw that he swung his
face for an instant toward the camp. For only a moment the light of the
fire shone on the face so turned back. Ben thought he had never seen a
more villainous expression on any human countenance.
The boy returned to the machines and joined his chums with an angry
scowl on his face. He was angry at himself for having for a minute
regarded the stranger in a friendly spirit.
“Where’s the artillery?” asked Jimmie, flashing his light about the
aeroplanes. “I thought I heard cannonading.”
As briefly as possible, Ben explained what had taken place, and the
three walked over to the spot where the missile had struck and exploded.
There was a great hole in the ground, and tiny fragments of a tin can
lay scattered about, lying at some distance from the hole.
“Nitroglycerine!” exclaimed Ben, picking up one of the fragments.
“That only goes to show,” Jimmie answered, wrinkling his freckled nose,
“that this trip of ours is not at all like a Sunday School picnic. I
wish we had caught him before he mounted his machine,” he went on. “I’d
like to fill him so full of holes that he could go away and play that he
was a Swiss cheese.”
There was very little sleep in the camp that night. The boys were away
at daylight, and a couple of hours later saw the machines snugly tucked
away in a hangar not far from the aviation field near Forest Park.
They waited about the post-office, taking turns watching at the general
delivery window, until nearly noon but, as the reader well understands,
Havens did not make his appearance. Their vigil during the afternoon
produced no better results. Toward evening they tried to reach Havens by
wire in New York, but their dispatches met with no response for a long
time. At last a message came from the millionaire’s private office at
the hangar in Westchester county.
It was very brief, and gave only the information that Havens had taken a
stateroom for St. Louis the previous evening, and that he had
mysteriously disappeared before the train had left the city.
“That’s a knock-out!” exclaimed Jimmie.
“And now,” asked Ben with a puzzled look, “shall we go back to New York
and help find Havens, or shall we cross the continent in quest of the
burglars?”