explained. “I can’t seem to find anyone who isn’t asleep.” As he spoke,
the dwarf faded out of the picture but Jim didn’t give him a thought.
“Where is it, the gas, I mean?” the stranger inquired politely.
“In that barn, or whatever it is,” Jim answered.
“And your plane?”
“About a mile up the road. We came down back of the town on a sort of
farm where we are spending the night.”
“I have a small car, I’ll fetch it up to you in about an hour, if that
will be time enough. I am driving that way,” he offered.
“Thank you very much. I’ll appreciate it no end,” Jim said heartily and
wondered why he had thought the man unpleasant.
“It will be no trouble at all. I’m glad to help you out.” The chap
strode off as if determined not to listen to more thanks, and Jim shook
his head.
“I certainly should like to know more about this place. I must have hit
it at an odd time, for they are a queer bunch.” He went back to the
barn, managed to get the doorman to settle the account, and chuckled
when the attendant seemed to think that tomorrow would do nicely for
the final transaction of the business. Darkness was settling slowly and
gently over the land, and Austin started for the camp. He noticed that
there wasn’t a sign of a star and his trained weather sense warned him
that rain was in the air. By the time he reached the point where he had
to turn across the field, or whatever it was, it was quite dark, but he
saw his Flying Buddy’s flash illuminating the shed, and his father’s
cigar as the man hurried to meet him.
“You were gone quite a while, my boy.”
“I guess it takes quite a while to get anything done in Montego, Dad,”
he laughed, and recounted his experiences to the amusement of his
audience.
“At any rate, the man with the car is on the job promptly,” Bob
announced, as the automobile came tumbling toward them.
“We greatly appreciate--”
“Glad to be able to help you out. I’m on my way to Kingston, and in
a hurry.” There was something about the brief phrases which did not
invite further discussion, so the gas was unloaded quickly and the car
dashed off into the darkness.
“Let’s get to roost and be on our way at crack of dawn,” Bob suggested.
“Suits me,” Jim agreed. It had been a long day and he was ready to
rest, so he helped the younger boy put the final touches on their bed.
“I’m going to read a little while. You turn in now,” said Bob.
“Thought you were going to bed.”
“Did intend to, but I guess I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“Well, all right. You sit with your foot on me and give me a kick if
anything goes wrong,” Jim directed.
“What’s the matter with my sitting the first watch?” Dad proposed.
“Everything. If things aren’t all right, I’ll call you later.”
“Very well.” In a few minutes both Jim and his father were sound
asleep, while Caldwell doubled up with a book, but he didn’t read very
attentively. The hours slipped by. Before midnight the world seemed
to be enveloped in a mist which was growing thicker, and a bit later,
the rain came down in an uncertain sprinkle which gradually grew in
strength and courage until it was a downpour. Quietly Bob got rubber
blankets, spread one over the sleepers, and wrapped himself in the
other. He left his light on, and presently he too was fast asleep.
When he opened his eyes the smell of toasting bacon assailed his
nostrils and the sight of Jim busy over a camp fire made him sit up
quickly.
“Gosh, is it morning?” It was still raining, but the camp was fairly
dry, and the breakfast promised to fill a deep cavity.
“It’s early, but we’re going to start as soon as we can. How late did
you sit up?” Jim asked.
“About twelve. Everything all right?”
“Sure. Dad waked about half past twelve and didn’t go to sleep again.
Then he called me and we decided to let you have a few extra snoozes.”
“Thanks.” They did not linger over the preparations to get away, and
as Mr. Austin had settled with the farmer, there was nothing to detain
them, so about the time the sun should have been squinting over the
horizon if the weather had been clear, they were in their cock-pits.
With the covering in place, they were dry and comfortable, and in the
rear, Mr. Austin had tipped his seat to an angle so that he could catch
up lost sleep. The “Lark” ran out over the spongy ground, lifted
heavily, then went soaring into the air, her motor roaring full blast.
“Well, we got away from there without any trouble,” Bob announced with
satisfaction as he watched Jim busy with the controls.
“Yes. Reckon we gave that lad at Havana the slip good and proper,” he
nodded. “Perhaps we were nuts about what he was after, but it was not a
bad idea to keep on the safe side. Wow, this is thick.”
“All right back there?” Bob called through the tube.
“Quite snug, thank you.”
Austin kept the plane climbing steadily until the altitude meter
registered twenty thousand feet, then he leveled off for the air was
less dense near the ceiling, set his course for Belize, and settled
down for the long run to British Honduras. Presently they were soaring
through clear skies, but the fog rolled in thick waves and billows
beneath them.
“I say, Buddy, change places with me and you can get at those lessons
again. I got in some extra licks last night on my stuff,” Bob proposed.
“Very well.” Presently they had changed places and Austin got out his
book and note papers. The plane was sailing smoothly and although
the fog reached almost up to them at times, the job of piloting was
comparatively easy and the boy thought, with an amused smile, of Don
Haurea and his men back in the laboratory. When he returned home he
would see records of the flight, and furthermore, he would probably be
able to tell just how dangerous Lieutenant Morrow had been and exactly
why that plane in Havana had shown so much interest in their arrival at
Cuba. In a short while the boy was completely absorbed in what he was
reading and it wasn’t until Bob pressed his foot vigorously that his
attention was called back to the present.
“I say, there’s something rotten about the “Lark”. She’s been flying
rather heavy, and--what in the name of Sampson’s donkey is that smell?”
Jim glanced at the board and at the same time sniffed cautiously. There
was a faint, unfamiliar odor about the tiny cabin, but it was more like
the heavy fragrance of too many flowers than anything decaying.
“It’s queer. I’ll lift the roof.” He dropped his work under the seat,
unlatched the covering and swung it back. “We haven’t needed that
thing, and might have put it up when we got out of the rain.”
“Yes. Suppose that smell is from tropical plants?”
“Good heavens, how could it be?” Austin picked up the tube to speak
with his father, if the man were awake, and as he did so his eyes fell
on the reflection globe in which he could see the rear of the plane.
The end of the tube dropped from his hand, his lower jaw sagged, and he
choked in horror. Bob looked at him quickly.
“What is it, old man?”
“Good God, look.” He pointed to the mirror, but the range of Bob’s
vision was different, so he turned his head. What he saw left him
perfectly speechless. All unconscious that he was being observed, some
one was crawling out of the rear cock-pit. Someone who looked more
like a monkey than a man, and as he clung to the rim, he secured the
transparent cover of the cock-pit.
“What is it?” Bob finally gasped.
“The dwarf, Buddy, we didn’t get off as easily as we thought.”
“That smell must have come through the opening--Jim--your--” But the
boy did not finish the sentence.
X
THE FIGHT IN THE AIR
“My father!” The Sky Buddy’s faces paled. “He’s been doped back there.”
Without a second’s hesitation Jim loosened his safety belt, and glanced
about for something heavy, but there wasn’t a weapon available, so he
sprang over the cock-pit, while Bob fought to keep the plane steady.
Cold chills of horror were racing up and down his spine, but he kept
to his task grimly, twisting around so that he could keep Jim in
sight. He did not know who the dwarf was, for in his account of the
evening before, his step-brother had said nothing of the pitiful little
cripple, but as Caldwell got a look at the sinister figure crouched
more like a beast than a human he felt nothing but loathing for the
fellow. Vaguely he wondered how the stowaway had gotten there, and what
deadly drug had been released in the rear cock-pit.
The force of the wind nearly drove Austin backwards, but he braced
himself to keep his balance and clutching the strut, hauled himself
along the fuselage. By that time the dwarf had seen the boy coming and
with an evil leer, crouched to wait. With a quick lunge Jim reached the
rim of the rear cock-pit and glanced through the transparent roofing.
He saw his father, not asleep, but slouched low in his seat, his head
dropped forward, his hands hanging limp in utter helplessness. With a
choking sob the boy dropped, his fingers grabbed the outside latch, and
he tugged frantically to lift the cover. For the time being he thought
only of getting air to his father; perhaps it was not too late, but
every second was precious. With strong fingers Jim managed to shove the
latch loose, but before he could do more than that, the dwarf sprang
on his back, his long arms entwining around the boy’s neck, his legs
gripping Jim’s thighs. Vainly he tried to shake off the burden, or
twist him around, but if the body of the dwarf was crippled, his limbs
were amazingly powerful, and the arms as long as a very tall man’s.
Desperately Jim clawed at the hands, and after seconds of futile
effort, he managed to get a grip on the dwarf’s thumb and bent it down
until he thought the fellow would let it be broken, but at last the
assailant was forced to release his hold.
With a quick shake, Austin got free, but only for a moment. He had
backed onto the roof of the cabin, and tried to smash it in with his
heel, but the material, although frail looking, was a composition made
in the Haurea’s laboratories and it resisted all his effort as if it
were heavy steel. The dwarf sprang again, but Jim ducked under his
legs, whirled as he came up, only to meet another furious onslaught,
which toppled him backwards. He barely managed to save himself by
catching hold of the strut, and the pair swung out over the rolling
fog. The “Lark” banked quickly, enabling Jim to get a foothold, and it
rode on its side until he was once more standing upright.
Above the roar of the engine, Jim could hear the dwarf bellow in his
face, and his hands clawed at the boy’s throat. The fellow did not seem
to mind whether he remained on the plane or fell off of it, but he
was determined to drag Jim with him if he went down. His great fists
began to hammer the boy’s face and body, but try as he would, Austin
was unable to get in an effective blow or do more than defend himself
feebly. He realized that Bob at the controls was watching every move,
that he made the “Lark” sway, tip, and slant in every direction, but he
realized that his Flying Buddy could do little to help him.
Finally a particularly vicious smash sent Jim reeling, his head toward
the forward cock-pit, the dwarf on top of him. He caught his victim by
the collar and twisted his fingers tightly in the cloth, then his eyes
rested on Bob.
“Turn around and go back, or I’ll kill him,” he shrieked.
“All right. Let go of him and I’ll turn around,” Bob answered coolly.
“You turn,” the fellow roared and his great hand twisted more tightly.
“You win.” Caldwell leaned forward over the board, one hand went like
a flash downward as the “Lark” began the curve to return. The dwarf
glanced out to be sure that the order was being obeyed, then Bob swung
up his shoe in his hand, but before he could do anything Jim renewed
his struggles and the pair slid over the side into space.
Quick as a flash, Bob tipped the plane’s nose downward and followed
into the swirling fog. The two dropped swiftly, but in a moment
Caldwell saw Austin kick himself free from the clutching arms, sprawl
out as he hauled on his parachute, and after a breathless moment, its
dark folds opened around the boy’s body. Then Bob remembered that the
Don had said that in an emergency it would act as a life saver. With
the engine racing, the “Lark” cut through the air, dove between the
two, partly righted itself and leveled out below Jim. Caldwell stood
up as he calculated the distance, and a moment later he felt a thud on
the top of the wings as Austin landed, then the pilot reduced the speed
until it was barely enough to sustain the plane in the air.
It seemed to the boy as if months passed before he saw Jim’s legs slip
over the edge of the wing. He watched tensely as his flying buddy
climbed painfully down to the fuselage, hung on to the supporting
strut, then, the instant he had regained his balance, he hauled the
folds of the parachute out of his way and crawled toward the rear
cock-pit. In a moment he had the lid up and dropped in beside his
father.
“Wow!” Bob glanced at the indicators. They were a thousand up, so he
banked around and began to climb as fast as the “Lark” could carry him.
He set his lips tightly as he recalled the last he had seen of the
dwarf tumbling through the fog toward the ocean below. The fellow had
no parachute and the boy wondered why he hadn’t taken the precaution to
equip himself with one of those in the rear cabin, but it was a mystery
he could not answer. Painstakingly Bob studied the map and calculated
the course. He had made up his mind to carry on until Jim could let
him know how things were in the rear. They were above the fog again,
and miles ahead the boy could see the blue waters of the Carribbean
Sea stretched beyond the rim of mist. Just then he noticed the light
flash over the radio and he picked up the speaking tube. Although he
was mighty anxious to hear what his step-brother had to tell him, he
dreaded to listen for he was sure that something terrible had happened
to his step-father.
“Hello, Old Timer,” he tried to call cheerily, but his voice shook.
“Hello yourself. Thanks for the wing-ride. All right up there?”
“Sure thing. Are you battered much?” Bob asked.
“Some, but not enough to put me out,” Jim told him.
“How is Dad?”
“Doing fine. Guess when we opened our roof it drove fresh air through
that communication tube and that kept him from smothering. Soon as I
got this lid open, he came to.”
“Oh gosh, I’m glad. Has he told you what happened?”
“He doesn’t know. He said that he went to sleep and was dreaming of
being choked, and he roused a bit. The air was stinging and his head
got full of pains. He tried to signal to us but became unconscious
before he could reach the set,” Austin explained tensely.
“Do you suppose that kid hid himself back there?”
“Yes. Folded himself in among the luggage. None of us thought to look
about either cabin, and when we were up, and Dad asleep, the dwarf let
out enough of the stuff he carried to make Dad dopey. Then he crawled
out, smashed the tube and closed the place tight. We had that hole in
front open, so it drove some air in; churned it around and we got the
stench. That wasn’t a kid, it was a man, and whoop, Boy, he did fling a
wicked arm. Could you see what happened to him?”
“He didn’t have a chute on and while I was trying to get under you, he
fell on through the fog,” Bob answered.
“Perhaps some fishing boat or vessel will pick him up. Dad says that we
must report what happened when we get to Belize.”
“Wonder who in blazes he was.”
“So do I. I saw him in Montego last night. Funny thing about it, Buddy.
Some kids were tormenting him and that lad who brought us the gas
chased them off. Later I saw the two of them together, but I didn’t
think anything about it. Looks serious, Old Timer.”
“Sure does. Gosh, I suppose that pig-foot brought him out and told him
to stowaway in the plane.”
“Expect that’s the answer. The dwarf wouldn’t have any reason to pick
on us. I’ve got some of the tube and perhaps we can have the stuff
analyzed and find out what it is,” Jim volunteered.
“He ordered me to turn back. I was going to give him a clip over the
head with my shoe, when you slid off taking him with you. Glad you
didn’t keep such company long.”
“I’m right particular about who takes me swimming in the Carribbean.”
“Wonder why he didn’t get into the extra chute,” Bob remarked.
“So do I, but I guess he was hiding under it. After this we shake the
“Lark” out before we leave. Got anything to eat?”
“Sure. Shall I send some through to you?”
“No. There’s enough. After a while I’ll crawl forward and relieve you,
Old Timer. Much obliged for the cooperation.”
“Always glad to oblige. I say, it seems queer to me that a man should
take such a chance. If you saw them together, the fellow should have
known you’d connect him with the slaughter.”
“Maybe, Bob, but I expect he planned we’d all go merrily down to
Davie’s locker and it wouldn’t make a particle of difference what we
had seen or suspected. I didn’t get the details of the plot from my
late opponent but if I ever meet him again, you bet I will. So long.”
The tube was hung up and Bob, with a mighty thankful heart attended
to his job. He managed to get something to eat out of the hamper, and
occasionally he’d wave an arm to his fellow travelers. Presently Mr.
Austin was sitting up straight, apparently none the worse for his
experience, and he smiled cheerily to his step-son.
Half an hour later the plane was sailing swiftly through clear skies,
and before noon the rugged outline of the long coast of the Central
American countries rose mistily out of the depths. It was a welcome
sight to the flyers, and when the sun was almost straight above their
heads, beating furiously, Bob started to glide to land and in a little
while he had dropped onto a British field. Several English soldiers
started toward them, and an officer came forward to speak to them.
“What’s this, a non-stop flight?” the man smiled.
“No, sir. We’ve made a couple of stops since we left Texas.”
“My name’s Seaman. Anything I can do for you?”
“Mine’s Austin.” He introduced himself and the Flying Buddies explained
briefly why they had dropped out of the sky.
“Won’t you join us for lunch?” Seaman invited cordially. “We’re always
delighted to have visitors.”
“Thank you. We shall be happy to join you. There is something which I
must report and no doubt you can tell me just where to do it.”
“It will give me great pleasure.” The officer led the way to the
barracks and his own quarters. “Make yourselves as comfortable as
the heat will permit.” The three washed up, and then, seated under a
whizzing fan, Mr. Austin told him about the stowaway. The man’s eyes
were raised incredulously, but there was no doubting the story.
“You say that you are on a business trip; to Peru?”
“Yes. An important one.”
“No doubt someone, or group, is interested in seeing that you don’t get
there,” Seaman suggested.
“That must be the solution, but it is very mystifying for we did not
decide to fly down until two days before we started, and only a few
close friends and the family knew how we were making the trip,” Mr.
Austin told him.
“You are quite safe here, and we’ll do anything we can for you. I’ll
make a report of your story, have it written this afternoon, and if
you’ll sign it before you leave, it will be on record in case anything
should come up later. If that dwarf is picked up by a boat he may claim
that he was thrown out of the plane and make things unpleasant in that
way. I’ll give you a copy of the papers with our signatures, and you
can keep it on you to use if need be.”
“I have a part of the tube,” Jim explained.
“Leave a few drops of the stuff here and we’ll analyze it. See if our
chemists can recognize the drug. There are hundreds of varieties picked
up in the jungles every once in a while, but I never happened to hear
of one acting as this did. You’re lucky to be here.”
“We certainly do appreciate your assistance,” Mr. Austin said warmly.
“I’ll have a guard posted by your plane while it is here so there will
be no possible chance for a recurrence of what happened this morning,
and when you are ready to refuel you can supervise the business
yourselves. We have some good mechanics if you need any work done,” he
offered further.
“We’ll give the bird an examination and be mighty glad to have your
man’s help if anything has to be done,” Jim told him. Seaman touched a
button and in a moment an orderly appeared. He stopped just inside the
door, saluted briskly.
“Send in the clerk, and give orders that the American plane is to be
carefully watched--strictly. No one, other than the guard, to go near
it, except the flyers, of course.”
“Very well, sir.” The man touched his cap again, wheeled and went out
briskly. The officer turned again to his guests.
“Did you mention a ranch, the K-A?”
“That’s ours,” Bob said quickly. “The K-A and the Cross-Bar; they’re
great ranches.”
“I do not doubt it. I have a friend, an old school pal who is one of
the Royal Mounted Police Chiefs stationed in Quebec. A few weeks ago I
received a letter from him and he told me that he had been in Texas on
some official business. As I recall it, he said he stayed at the K-A,
and he mentioned some rather wild experiences at another place--”
“The Box-Z,” Jim laughed.
“That’s it. Chap’s name is Allen Ruhel.”
“He stopped with us. We met him first in the Province of Quebec, and
another chap, named Bradshaw. We had some great times in Canada, near
the line, and we told them if they came to Texas we’d pin horseshoes on
them, but they didn’t stay long enough,” Bob announced.
“By George, then you are the Flying Buddies he spoke of. Said most
disrespectfully that a couple of “American kids” had done a lot to
locate the hangout of a border gang. He’s particularly grateful to you
because it proved to his department that planes can be of the greatest
assistance in the work to be done, and he’s getting some extra ones in
his service,” Seaman smiled. “You did him quite a good turn.”
“Howling Nightingales, they did us a few,” Bob declared.
“Being pals, Allen and I pass on bits of information which may come
in handy in our work. He told me that there was a grand round-up of
criminals at that ranch in Texas, but he also said that two men, the
son of one of the leaders and their chauffeur managed to escape the
net. Do you happen to know if the man has been captured?”
“He wasn’t a couple of days ago. That’s Arthur Gordon. The sheriff at
Crofton had the old ranch guarded by a young deputy. We had to stop
there one day before Christmas, and discovered that Gordon was there,
but he saw us first,” Jim explained.
“Which means that he got in some dirty work and made his get away.”
“He surely did.” Bob told the story briefly, not leaving out anything
and with casual references to Don Haurea, and Seaman was greatly
interested.
“He’s a bad boy all right-o. What do you suppose he wanted with carrier
pigeons?”
“He must use them to send communication to some long distance point.”
“Yes, of course. It will be well to remember that he has a supply
and notify the authorities to be on the watch for them. A plane can
trail one easily if it is once spotted. It seems strange that Gordon
abandoned your airplane.”
“That occurred to us, but we’re glad he did,” Bob grinned.
“Who wouldn’t be!”
“Probably the young fellow had another means of leaving the State
or the country. He may even have had a plane of his own, and of
course he would know that a description of your machine would be well
broadcasted. He didn’t have gas enough to get very far, so he dropped
out where he knew he would find friends and either hid until the matter
blew over somewhat, or left immediately,” Mr. Austin volunteered.
“Very true.” Just then the clerk appeared with pad and pencil, and
Seaman dictated briefly the story of the dwarf’s attempt to suffocate
the air travelers and his probable fate. The clerk took it on the
typewriter, and when it was finished the Texans and the two Britishers
signed it in triplicate.
“You keep this copy in your possession.” Seaman handed one sheet to Mr.
Austin, who put it with his papers in his pocket.
“Thank you very much.”
“Now, we may as well have lunch.” He led the way to the mess hall where
a number of officers were assembled, introduced his companions, and
the three sat down at one of the small tables. The meal was a lively
affair, the men joked back and forth, some of the older ones told
stories, and when they had finished, the two grown-ups lighted cigars.
“You do not have such a dull time,” Mr. Austin remarked.