[Illustration:
Jimmie felt his body brushing against the framework of the Ann’s
top wing as he lowered himself from the Louise.
]
_The Flying Machine Boys on Secret Service._ _Page 26._
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The Flying Machine Boys
on Secret Service
OR
The Capture in the Air
By FRANK WALTON
AUTHOR OF
“The Flying Machine Boys in the Wilds”
“The Flying Machine Boys on Duty”
“The Flying Machine Boys in Mexico”
[Illustration: Biplanes over an airfield.]
A. L. BURT COMPANY
NEW YORK.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1913
BY A. L. BURT COMPANY
-------
THE FLYING MACHINE BOYS ON SECRET SERVICE
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE FALL OF THE BEAR. 3
II. A WOBBLING AEROPLANE. 13
III. JIMMIE’S DARING FEAT. 23
IV. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF COLLETON. 33
V. A MIDNIGHT FLIGHT. 43
VI. THE LOSS OF THE LOUISE. 53
VII. THREE HUNGRY MEN. 63
VIII. “HOME OF THE FORTY THIEVES.” 73
IX. THE VOYAGE OF THE ANN. 83
X. AN UNEXPECTED HAPPENING. 93
XI. JIMMIE OPENS HIS DREAM-BOOK. 103
XII. THE ENGLISHMAN’S BAG. 113
XIII. A RACE IN THE AIR. 125
XIV. THE END OF THE FLIGHT. 134
XV. THE MAN IN THE STATEROOM. 145
XVI. STILL ANOTHER GUEST. 155
XVII. CARL GETS INTO TROUBLE. 167
XVIII. THE MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS. 178
XIX. A SURPRISE FOR JIMMIE. 190
XX. THE SECRET HIDING-PLACE. 202
XXI. THE BOY AND THE BEAR. 214
XXII. THE DOG IN THE CAVERN. 225
XXIII. ARRESTS ARE MADE. 235
XXIV. CONCLUSION. 244
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THE FLYING MACHINE BOYS
ON SECRET SERVICE.
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CHAPTER I.
THE FALL OF THE BEAR.
Two aeroplanes lay in a green basin in the heart of the Rocky mountains.
To the east of the basin lay a slope of half a mile or more. At the top
of the slope stretched a summit not more than half an acre in extent.
Thirty miles away lifted the snowy peaks of the Continental Divide. To
the west a broken country stretched to the Pacific.
The flying machines lying in the valley were the _Louise_ and the
_Bertha_. They had arrived from New York city that day, and the
aviators, weary from their long journey, were lying about a great fire
of dry jack pines and spruce. Thick porterhouse steaks, brought in from
Spokane, were broiling over a nest of coals, and a great coffee-pot was
sending forth its fragrance on the evening air.
Those who have read the previous books of this series will scarcely need
an introduction to Ben Whitcomb, Jimmie Stuart, or Carl Nichols. Sturdy,
adventurous lads of seventeen, they had entered the employ of Louis
Havens, the noted millionaire aviator, a few months before, and under
his direction had visited the mountains of Mexico, Southern California
and Peru. While on their Peruvian trip they had assisted greatly in the
capture of a cashier who had stolen several million dollars from a New
York trust company. This incident had led to their visit to British
Columbia.
On the very night of their return from Peru, Mr. Havens had suggested
that they enter the service of the federal government and assist in the
capture of a group of mail-order outlaws who were believed to have
caused the abduction of a post-office inspector who had long been
investigating their peculiar methods of doing business.
Although Mr. Havens had not at that time given the boys the full details
of the case, they had at once joyfully accepted the mission and almost
immediately taken their departure for the Pacific coast.
It was believed at the time of their departure that the inspector who
had been abducted had been taken to the mountains of British Columbia
for safekeeping. Just how this information had reached the secret
service department no one outside of the private office of the chief
knew.
All the papers collected by the inspector, many of them of great
importance as supplying convincing proof against the fraudulent
mail-order operators, had been removed from the inspector’s office at
the time of his abduction. The documents, of course, could not be
replaced.
The boys had traveled directly from New York to a point in the Rocky
mountains not far north of Crow’s Nest, where they had crossed the great
range. So far as practicable they had traveled nights and at a low
altitude.
Naturally the passage of two large flying machines over the country had
attracted attention, but the boys had kept away from cities so far as
possible, and it was believed that no one connected with the group of
mail-order operators had any intimation of the purpose of the trip.
For a portion of the distance the boys had been accompanied on the trip
by Mr. Havens, riding the _Ann_, probably the largest and fastest
aeroplane ever constructed. The millionaire aviator, however, had halted
at Denver for the purpose of receiving definite instructions from the
secret service department at Washington, while the boys had proceeded on
their way. His arrival was momentarily expected.
While the steak broiled and the coffee bubbled the three boys sat
looking over the great slope above. They spoke little for a time. The
scene was so grand, so near to the very heart of nature, that all the
little things of life seemed inconsequential. For a space they forgot
the mighty skyscrapers and canyons of New York and the level prairies
over which they had journeyed. The mountain scene dominated everything
in their minds.
Presently Ben Whitcomb, brown-eyed, athletic, and rather inclined at
times to take little troubles to heart, sprang to his feet and pointed
to the north. The others were at his side in a moment.
“Look there!” he said passing a field-glass to Jimmie.
Jimmie, red-headed, freckle-faced and shorter in stature than his
companion, looked through the glass for a moment and passed it on to
Carl.
“Is that an elk?” Jimmie asked in a moment.
“That’s what it is!” answered Ben. “It’s a full-grown bull elk!”
Carl, blue-eyed, broad of shoulders, and always ready to meet an
emergency with a joke, handed the glass back to Ben and hastened to the
broiling steaks.
Somewhat farther up on the slope of the basin where the green timber
halted, crowded down by the rock, an elk walked out into the middle of
an especially inviting patch of grass and looked about. He carried a
good pair of antlers and looked big and beautiful. For about five
minutes he grazed on the tender grass then marched to the edge of the
basin and browsed on green branches. Finally he vanished in the thick
green timber, and was not seen again.
“Cripes!” exclaimed Jimmie. “Wouldn’t that be a sight for the great
White Way? He’d look fine down at Forty-second street, wouldn’t he?”
“Huh!” answered Carl. “I guess there’s Elks enough on Broadway now!”
“More than there are in all these mountains,” Ben suggested.
Directly Ben took the steak and coffee from the fire and Jimmie and Carl
brought dishes and knives and forks from the flying machines. Then they
spread a white table cloth on the turf not far from the fire and laid
out their meal. Besides the meat and coffee there was plenty of bread,
canned beans and tomatoes.
“I’m going hunting to-morrow!” Jimmie declared. “I’d like to know what’s
the use of paying fifty dollars apiece for a hunting license and then
bringing beefsteak in from Spokane.”
Ben took out one of the non-resident hunting licenses and read it over
carefully.
“This gives me a right,” he said, “to slay three mountain goats; three
mountain sheep rams; three deer; one bull moose, and all the grizzly
bears I can come up with.”
“Are they all good to eat?” demanded Carl.
“They’re all good to eat in a way,” replied Ben, “but I don’t think the
people hereabouts feast very much on mountain sheep, or grizzly bears
either, when they can get anything else.”
“We ate bear in southern California!” cried Jimmie.
“Yes, and it was all right, too!” Carl declared.
“What’s the matter of going out hunting to-night?” Jimmie asked in a
moment. “Then we’ll be sure to have something for breakfast.”
“I think we’d better remain in camp to-night,” Ben replied. “We’ll put
up our oiled silk shelter-tents, and get the blankets and pillows out of
the flying machines, and make ourselves comfortable right here until Mr.
Havens comes. He may not be here for two or three days.”
“But he said he wouldn’t be ten hours behind us!” argued Carl.
“When a man’s doing business by wire with the secret service department
at Washington,” Ben explained, “he doesn’t know whether he’ll be ten
hours or ten days finding out what he wants to know!”
“Why didn’t he find out before he left New York?” asked Jimmie.
“He did find out all they knew regarding the whereabouts of post-office
inspector Larry Colleton before we left New York!” answered Ben. “He
stopped at Denver to find out if anything new had developed.”
“Are you sure this is the basin he told us to camp in?” asked Carl.
“Certain sure!” answered Ben. “He told us to cross the divide at the
Crow’s Nest and keep on north between the Elk river and the mountains
until we came to a large grassy valley.”
“Then this is the place all right!” Carl agreed.
After supper the boys set up their shelter-tents and prepared to pass a
comfortable night. They had spent nearly two weeks crossing the
continent, and had been in the air most of the nights, so they looked
forward to a long sleep with pleasant anticipations.
While the boys were putting the finishing touches on the bed in one of
the shelter-tents, a great rattling of stones was heard and in a moment
rubble from the size of a marble to that of an apple came rattling down
the long slope to the east. Startled by the unexpected shower, which
pelted about the camp like hailstones in a northern blizzard, the lads
rushed from the tent to ascertain the cause of the sudden commotion.
Twenty rods up the mountain they saw what appeared to be the body of a
great grizzly bear half-sliding, half-tumbling toward the valley. At
times the lumbering animal retarded his fall by clinging with his claws
to the uncertain slope. Again, he rolled over and over for several
yards, until his claws secured another hold. The beast was uttering
savage growls as he came down, and every bump he received appeared to
bring forth snarls more vicious than those which had gone before.
“Cripes!” exclaimed Jimmie. “Look who’s here!”
“He’ll be here in a minute, plumb on top of the tent!” Carl declared.
“Then why don’t you do something to head him off?” asked Jimmie.
“Yes,” the other argued, “I’d like to get in front of a ton of bear meat
coming down a mountain at the rate of forty miles an hour!”
It was fortunate for the boys that the descent of the bear was checked
for a little by a narrow shelf which ran along the edge of the slope
close to the bottom. Here the great body landed with a thud which
knocked out what little breath remained.
“That saved our tents and flying machines, I reckon!” cried Ben, as the
bear tipped from the shelf and landed in the grass only a few feet from
the _Louise_.
“He certainly would have smashed something if he had gone on at the clip
he was going when we first saw him!” agreed Carl.
“Speaking about going hunting to-night or to-morrow!” laughed Ben, “it
strikes me that we don’t have to go hunting in this philanthropic
country. Fresh meat seems to rain down from the skies!”
The three boys now advanced to the side of the animal and looked him
over. He was not quite dead, but it was evident that he had received
injuries from which he could not recover.
“We may as well put him out of his trouble,” suggested Ben, drawing an
automatic revolver. “He made a fight for life and lost!”
“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Jimmie, standing now at the bear’s head,
“here’s a fresh bullet wound now!”
“Do you suppose that’s what made him fall?” asked Ben.
“Of course!” returned Jimmie. “He was up on the mountain and some one
shot him, and that’s why he came tumbling down in that ridiculous way.”
“Is the wound still bleeding?” asked Carl.
“Still bleeding!” replied Jimmie. “It looks like a wound about five
minutes’ old. The bullet is somewhere inside the grizzly’s head, and I
don’t believe he was in his right mind when he was sticking his claws
into the rocks on the way down!”
The three boys looked at each other with questioning glances.
“Ask it!” grinned Jimmie.
“Ask it yourself!” Carl exclaimed.
“I’ll ask it!” Ben said with a grave face. “Who fired that shot?”
“The answer is ‘Yes’, so far as I know!” laughed Jimmie.
“No foolishness now!” Ben continued. “Some one fired that shot, and that
means that some one is prowling around our camp!”
“The man who fired the shot,” suggested Carl, “may be over on the other
side of the mountain!”
“Then he’d be more than half a mile away!” scoffed Jimmie.
“That’s a fact!” Carl admitted. “And, besides,” the lad went on, “a man
high up on the mountain wouldn’t be apt to shoot game lower down, unless
he wanted a good chase after it.”
“And all this indicates,” Ben said, “that the man who did the shooting
is somewhere near this camp. Also it indicates that he has a Maxim
silencer on his gun, and that’s a thing natives hereabouts don’t have.
Every time we go out on a trip we seem to bunt into a mystery first
thing, and we’ve got one now, all right!”
“I wish Mr. Havens would come!” Carl cut in. “It may be that some one
out here knows what we’re up to and intends to make trouble.”
While the boys talked a shout was heard in the distance, and two husky,
roughly-dressed men made their appearance, heading directly for the
camp-fire. The boys laid their hands on their automatics.