MYSTERY
Gale had run the motor boat on this short jaunt often before but never
had she experienced the thrill of adventure and excitement that was
prevailing tonight. The prow of the boat cut through the water and flung
a fine spray over the girl.
The island was dark, but the moonlight flung the trees and the little
lodge into sharp relief against the sky. A light gleamed faintly through
the window of the lodge and there Gale went.
There was no electricity on the island so the lodge was illuminated
solely by the light from the fire in the fireplace and a small oil
lantern which stood on the little table in solitary state.
A brief glance told her that the room was empty. Abruptly her bundle
slid to the table and she sat down while she tried to grasp the fact
that the pilot was gone. There had been something mysterious about him.
He had tricked them and disappeared at the first opportunity! But how
had he left the island? The motor boat had not been here. His airplane
was out of commission. They had left no means of escape for him.
Suddenly she thought of the canoe housed in the little adjoining shed.
Of course! It would be easy for him to get away in that. No trouble at
all, for the bay had been as smooth as glass.
Unnecessarily she went out, taking the lantern with her, to the shed.
There she stared in amazement. The canoe was safely installed as it had
been yesterday. The pilot had not touched it. Then how—he couldn’t have
swum to the mainland!
She left the shed and was about to rëenter the lodge when she stiffened
to attention and stared down the beach. The moonlight was brilliant as
daylight, throwing a silver path on the water and sandy shore. A
solitary figure was coming slowly and laboriously along toward the
cabin. Setting the lantern down quickly she ran down the beach to meet
him.
The pilot stood on one foot and waited for her to come up to him. There
was a smile on his face but she could see that he looked tired and there
was perspiration standing out on his forehead from the exertion of
walking on his injured ankle.
“What are you doing?” she cried in consternation.
“Down to see the plane,” he explained breathlessly. “Farther than I
thought.”
“You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle!” she said sternly. “It will
only make it worse.” She saw that he carried a small bundle wrapped in
oilskin under his arm. “Shall I carry them for you?”
“What? Oh, no thanks. A little bit farther won’t matter.”
She slipped her arm beneath his. “You can lean on me. It isn’t far.”
He squeezed her arm gently and released it laughing a little. “I can
make it quite all right.”
It was slow business for him, getting back to the cabin and once there
he sank down onto a chair and sat for a long time with closed eyes
breathing heavily. At last, when Gale was beginning to get anxious, he
looked up and smiled.
“What is that?” he asked, indicating the parcel on the table.
“I brought some groceries,” she answered. “Since you are going to be a
hermit—you have to eat.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” he said gratefully. “I was wondering if
there were any cocoanuts or bananas on this desert island.”
“I’ll cook you something,” she said with sudden inspiration. “It will
take only a minute.”
“Oh, but——” he began in protest.
“You must be hungry,” she insisted.
He couldn’t deny that and he had to admit, too, that with his ankle
throbbing as it was at present, he didn’t want to contemplate making his
own supper. Nevertheless he regarded her thoughtfully.
“Do your parents know you are here?” he asked suddenly.
Gale felt the color stealing up into her cheeks. “No,” she admitted
finally.
“Where are you supposed to be?”
She swallowed a difficult lump in her throat. “At the movies.”
“Then off you go to the movies,” he said firmly. “You don’t want your
conscience troubling you.”
“I’ll go right after I’ve fixed you something,” she promised. “Honestly
I will!”
“And hereafter there are to be no more lies!” he said severely.
“I was going to tell them tomorrow,” she said slowly.
“You will,” he said more brightly. “You have my permission to tell your
parents about me, but nobody else, mind you!”
Gale smiled. “Right you are, Mr. Hermit!”
While they were talking Gale was busy and in a few minutes his supper
stood hot and inviting.
“Come along and eat,” she invited.
“Not until I see you safely off in your boat,” he insisted.
She sighed. “I was going to wash the dishes for you, but I’ll go.”
He came close to her and put some money in her hand. “For the
groceries,” he explained.
“But this is too much——”
“Well, I’m going to need some more, won’t I?” he asked gaily.
When Gale ran down the beach to her boat she could see his figure
outlined in the doorway. She felt happy and pleased with herself as she
started the motor and swung the boat about in the direction of the
shore. But her elation was to be short lived.
When she climbed from the boat to the wharf a figure stepped from the
shadows. Gale started.
“Bruce! How you frightened me!”
“Sorry. Where were you?” the boy asked.
“To see the mysterious pilot and to take him some supper,” she answered
immediately, truthfully and brightly.
“Don’t you know you shouldn’t go all by yourself to see him?” the boy
asked indignantly.
“Why not?” All Gale’s friendliness and joy vanished as though from a
touch of icy wind.
“We don’t any of us know who he is——” Bruce began. “I don’t like it,
Gale. What would your parents say? You should take someone else—one of
the boys—with you. Hereafter——”
“Hereafter I’ll thank you to mind your own business, Bruce Latimer!”
Gale said heatedly. “You can’t tell me what to do. I’ll go where I
please and when I please! I don’t have to use your old motor boat,
either!”
“Gee, Gale,” the boy said ruefully, “I didn’t mean——”
But Gale had left him standing in the darkness. She almost ran through
the streets to her own home. Her Mother was sitting on the porch and
Gale dropped breathlessly beside her.
“The show let out early, didn’t it, dear?” her Mother asked, smiling.
Gale felt more ashamed of herself than she had ever done before.
“I didn’t go to the movies,” she said in a rush, her words tumbling over
each other. Swiftly she told her Mother of the pilot, how they had seen
him crash, how they had taken him to the lodge—everything up until the
minute she left the island tonight.
“I’m glad you told me,” her mother said simply.
“And you aren’t angry?” Gale whispered.
Mrs. Howard smiled. “No, I’m not angry.”
“And I can go to see him whenever I want?”
“Perhaps it would be best to go when the others go,” her Mother said
after a moment.
Gale left it at that. She took a cushion and sat on the top step,
watching the stars overhead. A figure crossed the street and entered the
yard. She recognized Bruce and stood up. She looked about but her Mother
had disappeared.
“Gale,” Bruce called uncertainly.
“Yes,” she answered reluctantly.
Bruce sat down beside her. “I’m sorry I said what I did,” he murmured.
“I am too,” she admitted.
“You will use my boat any time you want, too,” he urged.
“I don’t know whose I would use if I didn’t,” she laughed.
Harmony was completely restored. After that they talked together easily
and long.
The next afternoon after school Gale and Phyllis went down to the beach
and climbed into Bruce’s boat. Soon they were at the island.
The pilot was glad to see them. Already he was getting bored with his
self-imposed exile. He had been sitting at the table poring over the
package of papers for the possession of which he had made that slow and
painful journey to his plane last night. When he heard them he jumped up
and immediately sat down again. His ankle was too painful for sudden
movement.
The girls had brought some more supplies for the pantry and the pilot
received them thankfully. The three talked together for a long while.
When the girls decided it was time to leave, the pilot whispered to Gale
while Phyllis was already on her way to the boat.
“I must see you tonight for a few minutes—alone!”
Gale looked at him in surprise. His voice and tone had been most
mysterious.
“Alone?” she asked uncertainly; she was suddenly afraid of him.
“Alone unless you can get that young fellow Bruce to come with you.”
“We’ll come,” Gale promised him.
Her mind was full of the pilot and his words as she steered the boat
with herself and Phyllis back to the mainland. What could he want of
them?
“He is nice, isn’t he?” Phyllis said. “Brent Stockton,” she murmured the
pilot’s name over. “I’ve heard that name some place before.”
“Wasn’t it in the newspapers some time ago in connection with the
invention of a new parachute or something?” Gale asked slowly.
“That is it!” Phyllis said eagerly. “He is an inventor. Do you suppose
he is working on something now and that is why he wants to be alone on
the island?”
“There is nothing there for him to work with,” Gale said. “He would need
a laboratory or workshop or something.”
“That’s true,” Phyllis agreed as she and Gale turned into the driveway
of the big house on the hill where Phyllis lived.
“Do you think I should come any farther?” Gale asked, halting at a small
summerhouse where the girls invariably took their leave. Very seldom did
they go on up to the house.
“My Aunt was supposed to be out this afternoon,” Phyllis said. “I think
you might come up. I’d like some help with my Algebra.”
“Have you said any more to her about going to Briarhurst?” Gale asked as
they walked slowly up the gravel path and with light steps mounted to
the porch.
Phyllis led the way into the dark, formal hallway and up the stairs to
her own room. There, though the furnishings were stiff and old
fashioned, the sun shone in, dispelling the sense of gloom that seemed
to hang over the rest of the house.
“She insists that I go to Stonecliff,” Phyllis sighed. “I suppose I
must, but I shall hate it,” she said with sudden vehemence. “I don’t
want to be separated from all the Adventure Girls. You mean more to me
than you know,” she said, a sudden mist in her eyes. “You are the only
friends I have. The only fun I have I have to steal with you. I never
thought a person could be as cruel as Aunt Melba. She has taken every
nice thing I ever had away from me. Now she proposes to take you girls
away too.”
Gale slipped a loving arm through her friend’s. “She can’t take us away.
We love you too, Phyl,” she declared earnestly. “Don’t let it worry you.
We shall think of something. We’ll take the situation into our own hands
and you won’t have to go to Stonecliff.”
* * * * *
Gale had been purposely gay and confident when she was talking to
Phyllis but afterward she wondered what they could possibly do about it.
Miss Fields was a thin, middle-aged woman who ruled her household with a
rod of iron. No one had ever been known to oppose her successfully or
for long. Phyllis, especially, was a victim of her Aunt’s every whim.
Raised in terror of the stern old woman that terror still held Phyllis
in its grip.
Gale turned into her own yard and then she suddenly remembered Brent
Stockton’s words. She looked across the street. Bruce was just coming
home from football practice.
“Hi, Bruce!” she called.
He grinned and waved in response. When he came up to her she laughed at
his appearance. Bedraggled and mud splashed, he looked every inch a
returning warrior from unknown wars.
“Think we will win from Northwood on Friday?” she asked eagerly.
“Of course we will,” he returned. “We’ve got a swell team.”
“Bruce,” she lowered her voice to a confidential pitch, “Phyllis and I
were out to the island to see the pilot this afternoon. He said he
wanted to see you and me tonight for a little while—alone.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know,” she frowned. “What do you suppose he could want? He
sounded awf’ly mysterious.”
“Did he say what time?”
“No. Any time I suppose.”
“We’ll go right after dinner, eh?”
She sighed. “I was afraid you wouldn’t go at all.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Why not?”
She laughed. “Never mind.” She turned to the house. “See you tonight,”
she called and disappeared within.
How could she tell him she had thought he would not go because she
doubted if he had an adventurous spirit? Sometimes Bruce irritated her.
He was so cold and sane. Never enthusiasm for anything. No ambition, at
least he never said anything to her about it if he had, no urge to go
anywhere or see anything. He took things so calmly she sometimes
wondered if he were altogether human. She was positive he had never done
an impulsive thing in his life.
She sighed as she sat down at the piano and let her fingers roam over
the keys. Perhaps that was the way she should be, thoughtful, serious,
never doing anything rash. But she couldn’t. Sometimes she would be all
prepared to go to a study or a game or book seriously, when someone’s
word or sentence would strike a discordant note and her temper would
flare forth or a spring of laughter would burst within her and gone
immediately were all her good intentions. Somehow she just couldn’t take
herself as seriously as did Bruce with himself. To him life was a
problem and it was meant to be coped with as such. She preferred to
snatch pleasure from life as she went along. Didn’t her friendship with
the other Adventure Girls prove that? Certainly there could be no more
nonsensical, yet sweet, girls than Carol and Janet. Madge, too, had a
sense of humor. And Val, good old Valerie! She, like the rest, was
always ready for anything.
The low tones of the piano crashed like thunder as she brought her hand
down heavily and swung about on the stool. She had better get in some
study on her English Literature if she hoped to pass that exam.
After dinner Gale and Bruce went down to his motor boat and crossed to
the island. As it had been the night before, the island was in darkness
save for the gleam of lantern light from the cabin. The boy and girl
stood for a moment in the doorway watching the pilot in silence.
Brent Stockton had papers and blue prints spread out before him and he
was compiling figures on another sheet of paper.
“Hello,” Gale said uncertainly.
The pilot swung around, his hand instinctively seeking to cover the
paper before him. He smiled in mingled pleasure and relief when he
recognized them.
“Didn’t hear you coming,” he apologized. “Sit down, won’t you?” he
indicated two chairs drawn up to the other side of the table.
The girl and boy sat on the edge of the chairs and stared interestedly
at the blue prints before them.
“A new motor?” Bruce asked; his technical eye had already recognized the
sketches.
The pilot nodded. He leaned toward them confidentially. “Are you sure
there is no one but me on this island?”
“I don’t think there is anyone else,” Gale said. “No one ever comes here
but us.”
“Queer,” Brent Stockton murmured. “All day I’ve had the feeling that
someone was watching me.”
“Must be your nerves,” Bruce smiled. “What did you want to see us
about?”
The pilot threw down his pencil and folded his arms while he regarded
them with a half frown. “Have you ever heard of me?” he asked
surprisingly.
“You’re an inventor,” Gale said immediately. “You invented a new type of
parachute or something a few months ago.”
He nodded. His voice was low when he spoke and the two young people bent
forward so as not to miss a single word.
“Now I am working on something new. A motor that will have less gas
consumption and be more or less foolproof. It will be most economical,
automatically reducing the upkeep of a plane. It especially is designed
for the new pursuit type ship the Army is planning. I hope to have one
installed in my racing plane before the air races three weeks from
Saturday, that is if I have it perfected in time.”
“Did you have one in the plane in which you crashed?” Bruce asked.
“Yes. I’ve been working on these plans ever since and I’m convinced that
I’ve located the only weak spot in the whole unit.”
“But——” Gale frowned. “Where do we come into it?”
He tapped the plans significantly. “I needn’t tell you how important
these plans are. If they should fall into the wrong hands, well, I don’t
think our army would be using my motor in their pursuit ships. I have to
get them to the airport above Marchton so my mechanic and his helper can
assemble the motor in time for the races. There I hope to prove
definitely that my motor is the most practical and economical as well as
fastest.”
“Well?” Bruce encouraged.
“Other men are planning motors and assembling units for the same
demonstration,” Brent Stockton said. “One in particular is willing to do
anything to sell his motor to the government. He will stop at nothing
and, since he suspects that I have a good unit, is trying his best to
keep mine from appearing in the race at all. Twice he has attempted to
steal my plans. Both times I have been fortunate in having them just
beyond his reach. Once there was even a bold attempt on my life.”
Bruce whistled expressively. “Why don’t you go to the police?”
“I would if I could name the man who has done these things,” Brent
Stockton laughed. “I’ve never seen him so I can’t very well turn him
over to the authorities. He uses other less important individuals than
himself for his work. The three times I spoke of I managed to get a
glimpse of the thief—each time it was a different man.” He shrugged.
“It is fighting more or less in the dark.”
“What do you want us to do?” Gale asked breathlessly. She was terribly
interested in all this. Brent Stockton was like a hero in a modern story
of adventure and romance.
The pilot smiled. “Here is my plan. If you don’t want to come along with
me it is all right. I won’t think any the less of you for it. There is
liable to be danger—that is the part I don’t like when it comes to
you,” he said frowning at the youngsters.
“What do you want us to do?” Bruce asked, brushing aside the thought of
danger.
“Take these plans to my mechanic,” Brent said immediately. “I will tell
you where to meet him. You must be absolutely sure that they never leave
your sight for a moment. There is too much at stake to risk losing
them.”
“Is that all?” Gale asked disappointed. “That doesn’t sound very
dangerous.”
He smiled. “Ah, but it might prove to be. If you were held up and
robbed, which is possible, it would not be exactly safe, you know.”
“But nothing like that ever happens in Marchton,” Gale said.
“I’ll take the plans to your mechanic,” Bruce agreed. “But I don’t think
Gale should go.”
“Bruce Latimer!” Gale was furious again. “Are you going to tell me what
to do? I am going! Mr. Stockton asked me just as much as he did you.
Don’t dare say——”
Bruce started to laugh. “All right, all right, hold on a minute. I only
didn’t want you to be in any danger.”
“There isn’t a bit of danger and you know it,” Gale said, slightly
mollified. “Nothing is dangerous in Marchton.”
The pilot was regarding them with a wide grin. “At least I gather that
you accept my proposition?”
“Of course,” Bruce said. “Where do we meet your mechanic?”
“There is a thick wood this side of the airport, do you know it?”
Gale nodded. “We picnic there sometimes.”
“There is an old deserted spring house there. Stubby should be there
about nine o’clock,” the pilot said consulting his wrist watch. “It is
now eight. Can you make it in an hour?”
“We’ll take our bicycles,” Gale said eagerly.
“What does he look like, your mechanic?” Bruce asked. “How will we know
him?”
“When you meet a man,” Brent Stockton said, “ask him the time. If he
says seven o’clock by the stars, ask him how long he has been there. He
will say three days come Friday. He will probably ask you if you have
anything for him.”
“Are you sure he will be there?” Gale asked.
“Stubby will be there,” the pilot answered confidently. “Tell him he
must not, under any circumstances, try to communicate with me. He is to
go to the hangar at the airport and start work on the Silver Arrow, that
is my racing plane,” he explained. While he had been speaking he was
rolling the plans up into a tight packet. This he now handed to Bruce.
“You are guardian of the treasure now,” he said smiling.
“It is a wonder that you trust me with them,” Bruce said.
“I can’t go myself,” the pilot said, “and I like you,” he added frankly.
“I know you won’t let me down.”
“We’ll see that—what was his name?—Stubby gets them,” Gale assured
him.
When the boy and girl went down to the motor boat they could see the
pilot standing in the doorway watching them. He raised his hand in
silent salute as the boat shot away from Cloudy Island.