West of Bacon Hill
The Hardy boys soon heard footsteps as the three men approached the
plane.
“I wish the weather was better,” Newt Pipps complained. “I’m afraid
something will happen.”
“I wish you’d keep quiet,” snapped Ducroy. “If you’re so scared why did
you come in with us at all?”
“I need the money.”
“And you don’t want to earn it. I’m doing all the work. All you and
Ollie have to do is throw the ropes over the side when I give the word
then get your guns ready for the hold-up.”
“We may lose him in the dark,” whined Pipps.
“I know every foot of his route,” returned Ducroy. “He’ll come right
over the two church steeples in Jasonville, then strike west of the
light on Bacon Hill.”
These places were new to the Hardy boys. They had never heard of either
Jasonville or Bacon Hill. They listened while the trio made the final
preparations for flight. It did not take long. In a few minutes they
heard the propeller whirring. The engine roared, there were a few shouts
as the men took their places, and then the plane bumped off over the
uneven ground.
It gathered speed, then the bumping ceased as the plane rose. It cleared
the fence at the end of the field, circled somewhat slowly, and rose
higher.
For a time the plane flew a direct course, then it banked and circled.
There was no doubt in the minds of the Hardy boys now that Ducroy and
his companions meant to hold-up another airplane, but how this hold-up
was to be managed they had not the least idea. It was very confining
inside the body of the plane, for the night was hot and sultry despite
the rain. The roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds.
Suddenly the plane dipped. Joe, who had relinquished his grip on the
rack, was thrown forward. The machine lost balance and nosed down
accordingly. Ducroy quickly straightened it out and Joe tried to edge
back toward his brother in the darkness.
He found, however, that his wrist was tightly held.
Panic-stricken, he groped forward. His shirt sleeve had been caught in
the steering gear running from the controls back to the rudder at the
tail of the plane.
While he tried to extricate himself the plane began to buck and sway in
the wind.
Frank, realizing that something was wrong, switched on a small
flashlight he had with him, and moved slowly forward. The beam of light
fell on Joe’s shirt sleeve. When the boys saw what was wrong they made
desperate attempts to release the sleeve, but it was now firmly
entangled in the gear.
Suddenly the roar of the motor died. Ducroy had shut off his engine. The
plane was nosing down toward the earth in a thrilling dive. Wind sang in
the struts.
“What’s the matter?” shouted Newt Pipps, in terror.
“Steering gear jammed!” answered Ducroy sourly.
“We’ll be killed!”
“Hold steady, you fool!” growled Ollie Jacobs. “What’s the matter,
Giles, can’t you get her out of it?”
Ducroy was working frantically at the controls.
“Something wrong somewhere. This old bird’s tail is as heavy as lead. I
can’t move the rudder.”
The gear was moving in response to his efforts at the controls. Frank
seized Joe’s sleeve and gave a quick wrench. The movement of the gear
had loosened the sleeve somewhat and it abruptly came loose.
At the same moment there was a shout of satisfaction from Giles Ducroy.
“She’s working again. Say, next time I land I’m going to see if we
haven’t some ballast aboard. There’s something radically wrong back
there.”
“We won’t need the plane after this haul,” declared Jacobs. “If we get
through this trip all right we’ll be set for life.”
The Hardy boys scrambled back to their places. The nose of the plane
suddenly raised. The engine began to roar again. Ducroy then brought the
machine out of its breath-taking dive. It flattened out and raced on
again.
Frank and Joe were panting with excitement. Each realized how near they
had been to death. With the rudder useless, the plane would have crashed
nose down into the earth and they would have perished instantly.
From then on, the boys clung to the rack with every movement of the
plane. That one hazardous experience had been sufficient warning.
Suddenly, above the noise of the engine, the Hardy boys heard a shout
from one of the men. Then they became aware of a new sound. A steady,
distant drumming was apparent.
“The other plane!” they reflected.
The machine banked, swept about in a great circle. The big moment was at
hand. The drumming of the other plane became clearer.
“Stand by!” they heard Ducroy yell.
The plane bucked as it was caught in a gust of wind, then it shot
forward and began to climb. The drumming of the other plane was now
quite audible, mingling with the roaring of their own machine. It seemed
to be below them and in front of them.
Ducroy was evidently jockeying for a strategic position, for the plane
rocked and swayed, banked and turned, dipped and rose again.
“Ready!”
There was an answering shout from Ollie Jacobs.
“Over she goes!”
The boys heard a rattling sound from the forward part of the plane. What
it was they could not imagine.
An instant later, the drumming of the plane below ceased abruptly.
Their own plane swung around. Ducroy cut off his engine and went into a
dive.
“We’ve got him!” they heard Ollie Jacobs shouting. “There he goes. Look!
He’s diving.”
“Don’t lose sight of him!” shouted Ducroy.
“He’s heading for a field. Nose her down. We’re right behind him,
Giles!”
The plane dived swiftly.
From below, the boys heard a distant crash.
“He’s on the ground. Watch out, Ducroy. Come up behind him.”
The plane banked, flinging the two boys violently to one side. It
lurched, dived again unsteadily.
“Get ready!” ordered Ducroy. “Don’t let him get away. Can you see him,
Ollie?”
“I can’t see him, but I can see the plane. It’s right ahead. Get your
gun, Newt.”
“I’m ready,” quavered Newt Pipps.
Gradually, the plane settled down. There was a bump as the wheels
touched the earth. The plane rebounded high into the air, for Ducroy had
slightly miscalculated in the darkness. The engine roared again. The
wheels once more touched the ground, and the plane rocked on over the
uneven surface. Finally it came to a stop. The Hardy boys heard a
scrambling from the front of the machine.
“All out!” Ducroy was shouting. “Now, boys, make quick work of this.
Grab the bags and get back here as quickly as you can. Don’t waste any
time. Get into the plane again and wait for me. I’ll get back and start
her again. We’ll be in the air before he knows what it’s all about.”
The Hardy boys could hear them running across the field. Frank reached
for the catch, flung the door open. He and Joe scrambled out of the
plane.
The scene was illuminated by a cloudy moon. There was just sufficient
light for them to see a wrecked and crumpled airplane in the field some
distance ahead. A pilot was painfully extricating himself from the
wreckage. Ducroy and the others were running toward him with drawn
revolvers.
The Hardy boys, too, were armed. Realizing that their antagonists were
desperate men, they had taken the forethought to provide themselves with
revolvers before leaving Bayport. Each lad gripped his weapon.
“It’s the hold-up!” said Frank quickly. “Let’s break it up.”
“Just a minute!” declared Joe. “They want to get away in this plane. If
we can’t handle them they’ll make a getaway in spite of us. Let’s fix it
so they can’t.”
He ran toward the front of the plane, scrambled up into the cockpit. Joe
knew something of machinery, and it took him only a few seconds to break
an important wire connection that rendered the engine useless for the
time being.
“That’ll fix ’em,” he said jubilantly, as he ran back to Frank, who was
waiting impatiently. “Now we can take a hand in this little game.”
They ran toward the wrecked plane just as Ducroy and his cronies leveled
drawn revolvers at the pilot.
“Put up your hands or we’ll shoot!” ordered Ducroy.