Back in Bayport
Beyond an occasional robbery of a hen roost the worthy sheriff had
experienced few cases of crime in the county during his time of office,
and when he discovered who the prisoners were and why they had been
captured he was one of the most astounded and bewildered men in the
world.
“Robbin’ the air mail!” he stammered. “Why, these fellers must be
desperate criminals!”
“They’re not very desperate now, sheriff,” laughed the pilot.
“What d’you want me to do with ’em?” asked the man of the law
doubtfully.
“Lock ’em up.”
“I don’t know as I’m responsible.” The sheriff was not anxious to be
given charge over three mail robbers.
“You’re responsible, all right, until the government takes them off your
hands,” returned the pilot abruptly. “You take these men and lock them
up in your village jail, and make mighty sure they don’t get away from
you, either. This crime took place in your county, so you can just get
busy and do your duty.”
The sheriff looked very unhappy about it, and kept Ducroy and his
companions carefully covered with the shotgun, as though fearing they
might break loose at any moment. Assistance soon arrived, when a number
of farmers and people from the village, attracted by the crash of the
mail plane, came clambering over the adjacent fences. In a remarkably
short space of time a crowd had collected. Everybody talked at once,
everybody asked questions, and general excitement prevailed.
“What’s the excitement?”
“Airplane busted, eh?”
“Anybody killed?”
“Gosh, Jed, look at the sheriff! What’s he up to, anyhow?”
“Don’t know nothin’ ’bout it, Asa. But somethin’ is plumb wrong, that’s
certain.”
“Don’t go too close to the shebang, Billy, she might bust up on you.”
“First time I ever did see an airplane come down like that.”
“Me, too. Glad I come along just in time. I wouldn’t go up in one of ’em
for a million dollars.”
“Nor me.”
The sheriff, becoming bolder, announced to all and sundry that he had
just captured three mail robbers at great risk of his own life and
called on his fellow villagers to help him take the trio safely to jail.
Ducroy, Ollie Jacobs, and Newt Pipps were consequently surrounded and
led out of the field, bundled into an automobile where they were guarded
by the sheriff, armed with his shotgun, and two husky villagers armed
with clubs, then hustled off to town.
The pilot turned to the Hardy boys. A number of people had remained at
the scene and were busy inspecting the wrecked plane and asking
questions. The majority of the villagers, however, had hastened in the
wake of the sheriff and his prisoners.
“Where are you boys from?”
“Bayport,” Frank told him.
The pilot was surprised.
“Why, that’s where I’m bound for.”
“I guess you won’t get there to-night,” said Joe pessimistically.
“I’ve got to get there to-night. I’m carrying the air mail, and it must
get through somehow.” The pilot looked at Ducroy’s plane. “I wonder if
this old crate will make it.”
“It was running fairly smoothly to-night,” said Frank eagerly. “Do you
think you could take off and reach Bayport to-night?”
“Why not? Here, take those mail bags and put them in the plane. We’ll
make a try at it, anyway.”
While Frank stowed away the mail bags, Joe showed the pilot the wire
connections he had broken in order to prevent Ducroy from getting into
the air.
The pilot laughed. “Pretty smart,” he said approvingly. “Even if you
hadn’t succeeded in holding them up, they wouldn’t have got very far.”
He quickly repaired the broken connection.
“Now,” he said, “I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t be able to take
off from here and reach Bayport in good time to-night. And won’t my
chief’s eyes pop out when I tell him the story of _this_ trip!”
Frank ran around to the front of the plane and gave the propeller a
flip. The motor began its clamor again and the pilot waved his arm
joyously.
“Climb in!” he shouted. “We’re away!”
The Hardy boys lost no time “climbing in,” and while the curious
villagers scattered in all directions, the pilot “gave her the gun” and
the plane began to move slowly off across the field. Although it was a
cloudy night, the pilot had some instinct which told him the right
direction, and he brought the plane off the ground just in time to avoid
a fence that seemed to rise suddenly before them. He cleared the fence,
cleared the telephone wire beyond the road, just skimmed over the tops
of some trees, and then climbed swiftly beyond the danger level.
The boys enjoyed this ride considerably more than they had enjoyed their
flights in the tail of the plane. The cold air stung their faces. They
found goggles and flying helmets in the seats, and when they donned them
they were more comfortable.
Lights of the village flashed far beneath them, and as the plane rose
higher in the air they saw lights in the darkness many miles on all
sides. Far to the north they could see a dull haze of lights from a
distant city. Over to one side they could see a speeding beam of light
followed by a little string of twinkling stars, which they identified as
a train, racing across the countryside.
The plane roared on swiftly and the thrill of that night flight was
sufficient reward to the Hardy boys for all the discomforts they had
undergone. They were riding high above the world, which seemed to have
disappeared altogether save for the twinkling beams and blobs of light
scattered over its black surface.
They saw the pilot gesture. He was pointing ahead.
The Hardy boys could see a widening pencil of light which cut through
the blackness of the night. It was the beacon light of the Bayport air
field, still many miles ahead, but visible from their great height.
Beyond that they could see the twinkling flash of a lighthouse at the
mouth of Barmet Bay.
In due time the lights of Bayport came into view, a yellow glow, and to
the west they could see the airport, clearly illuminated, a huge glowing
rectangle.
The pilot juggled with the controls. The nose of the plane tilted
downward. The machine dived in a breathless rush.
Then it banked, and the plane circled the airport, dropping steadily
downward as though descending an invisible spiral. The flying field
seemed to rise up to meet them. The hangars, the other planes, the tiny
figures of men on the field, all became visible. There seemed to be an
unusually large number of people about, and the pilot turned and shouted
something to the boys, but they could not distinguish what he said,
because of the roar of the engine.
Finally the plane straightened out, then glided swiftly down toward the
field. It struck the ground with a shock, then bounced and bounded on
toward the hangars.
There was a big crowd at the airport. People were running down the field
toward the plane. By the time the pilot cut off his engine, by the time
the propeller stopped turning and the plane came to a stop, a mob had
surrounded the machine.
Frank and Joe looked wonderingly at one another.
“Looks like a reception committee!” said the pilot. “The sheriff must
have telephoned to Bayport about his prisoners.”
The Hardy boys stood up. They heard shouts:
“There they are!”
“That’s them!”
“Turn around a little—let’s get a picture!”
The Hardy boys and the pilot had a confused impression of half a dozen
cameras leveled at them. Flashlight powder began to explode until the
whole scene was as bright as day. An enterprising reporter scrambled up
over the side of the plane.
“Interview!” he clamored. “Give me the story, boys! What happened?”
The pilot brushed him aside.
“You boys will have your story in a minute,” he promised. “If you’ll all
come up to the office we’ll tell you the whole yarn.”
Chief Collig, at the head of a detail of officers, appeared just then
and managed to get the crowd under control, so that the pilot and the
Hardy boys were able to get out of the plane. Several airport officials
ran up. The pilot saluted.
“Had a forced landing near Jasonville, sir,” he reported to one of these
officials, an elderly man. “The mail is safe.”
“Good work, Benton,” said the other. “Come up to the office and tell us
what happened. We’ve been mighty curious for the past half hour, since
we heard about this hold-up.”
The Hardy boys never forgot the short journey to the office building of
the airport. It had all the aspect of a triumphal procession. Scores of
people had invaded the flying field, and the police were kept busy
keeping the crowds back. Seemingly, the news of the hold-up had spread
quickly in Bayport and the flying field suddenly became the Mecca of
everyone who could make his way to the airport.
In the office, surrounded by reporters, photographers, police officers,
and airport officials, Benton, the pilot, briefly told his story of the
hold-up.
“As you know,” he said, “the mail to-night was especially valuable. Cash
for a number of payrolls was being sent to one of the Bayport banks from
its head office in New York. Somehow, these men must have got wind of
it, so they flew out to meet me, tossed a tangle of ropes down on my
propeller shaft, then held me up when I crashed. They were just clearing
out with the mail bags when these boys appeared on the scene and turned
the tables. If it hadn’t been for them, the rascals would have made a
clean getaway. Their story is much more interesting than mine.”
Frank and Joe Hardy were then asked to tell the story of their
adventures. While the newspapermen scribbled hastily and made frequent
dashes to the telephones to inform their city editors of the facts, the
boys quietly told how they had decided to follow Ollie Jacobs, how they
had learned of the purchase of the airplane, and how they had concealed
themselves in the machine and accompanied the rascals in their journeys
about the countryside. When they had finished, a veteran post office
inspector stepped forward and shook hands with them.
“I hardly need say that your good work will be recognized by the
department,” he said. “Your persistence and courage certainly averted a
serious robbery, and I am going to recommend that you be suitably
rewarded.”
“The only reward we want,” returned Frank, “is to be cleared of the
charges against us. You know, we’re out on bail on a charge of robbing
the mail several days ago.”
“Why, didn’t you know that you were cleared of that?” exclaimed the
inspector. “Your father, Fenton Hardy, came to the airport to-night,
shortly before the news of the hold-up was reported, and arrested two
mechanics. It seems they had been in touch with Ducroy and his
companions by telephone, tipping them off to the time this money
shipment was expected. When your father took them away they confessed
that they had helped Ducroy manage the other two thefts here, and that
Ducroy had deliberately planted evidence against you boys.”
“Charges against them have been withdrawn,” broke in Chief Collig
abruptly. “The Hardy boys have been cleared of all suspicion. So far as
I’m concerned, I never believed them guilty in the first place.”