AT THE AIRPORT
At the wharf the next afternoon she found Stubby awaiting her.
“Have to take me to the island,” he said without preliminary. “Brent
must come to the airport!”
“Can’t you manage the plane without him?” Gale asked.
“No. Something is wrong. I can’t get the motor to hum right. Brent is
the only one who knows enough about it.”
“But he said he didn’t want to go to the airport until the day of the
races,” Gale said petulantly.
“If he doesn’t come now his plane won’t be in the races,” Stubby
declared bluntly.
Gale sighed and stepped into Bruce’s boat. Stubby was a silent passenger
all the way to the island.
Brent was not pleased at the news Stubby brought him. Finally he sighed
and admitted it would be best if he did go to the airport to supervise
personally the installation of the new motor.
“But not until tonight,” Brent said. “After dark perhaps Miss Howard
will motor me across the bay. I’ll come then.”
“Of course I will,” Gale said. “If you are going to stay in Marchton you
can live at my house, too,” she said breathlessly. “I already suggested
it to my mother and she would like it too. You have no place else to go,
please say you’ll come,” she pleaded.
“I’ll talk to your parents first,” he said.
As soon as it was dark that night Gale motored across the bay and
returned with Brent Stockton for dinner at the Howard home. Later, when
he declared his intention of going to the airport, Gale pleaded to go
along. They were just leaving the yard when Bruce appeared.
“Hullo,” he said in surprise at the sight of Brent. “Where did you come
from? I thought you were still on the Island?”
“No. I’m needed at the airport and I’m staying at Miss Howard’s home
while I am in Marchton.”
“Going to the airport now?” Bruce asked. “May I come along?”
The three of them walked to the corner bus stop. The bus took them to
within a square of the airport. The buildings, three in all, were dark,
shrouded in black silence. A knock at the small door at the side of the
private hangar where Brent stored his planes brought a crack which
widened into a yawning black hole when Brent was recognized. The three
of them stepped within and immediately the door was closed behind them.
Gale felt nervous. The mystery made her apprehensive. In the darkness
she caught at a friendly hand. When a dim light flashed on she hastily
disengaged her hand from Brent Stockton’s grasp, blushing furiously at
the thought of what he must be imagining. She had no idea it had been
his hand she was holding on to.
“Why all the secrecy?” Bruce demanded of Stubby who had opened the door.
“We’ve had other visitors tonight,” Stubby replied. “Not very welcome
ones either.”
“Has someone been here again?” Brent Stockton demanded.
Stubby nodded. “The same one who tried to get the plans from this young
fella.” He indicated Bruce and led the way past a huge nondescript
shape, which Gale supposed to be the plane, but in the darkness could
not discern clearly, into a small office. There he lounged against the
wall while Brent eased himself into the chair before an untidy desk and
Gale and Bruce sat on the radiator by the window.
“What did he do?” Brent asked; his voice was low, strained with anxiety.
“Did he get to the motor at all?”
“That he did not!” Stubby said, bristling with indignation. “It’s my job
to protect it and I did!”
“But what did he do?” Bruce pursued.
“Well, it was this way,” Stubby said, “along about seven o’clock I heard
a funny scratching sound. I put out the light and went out to the door.
He was fooling with the lock, trying to get in. I slipped back the bolt
and jerked the door open, meaning to catch him. He ran, that’s all.”
Bruce and Brent were talking with Stubby about the strange man while
Gale, her attention wandering, looked out the window. The moonlight
illuminated the field as brightly as any searchlight. Suddenly she
stiffened to attention. A skulking figure had just straightened up from
the corner of the hangar. This hangar and office were built together
much like the letter L, the office sticking out like the foot of the
letter. From her position at the window Gale could clearly see the whole
one side of the hangar. Now, watching the man in the shadows, her eyes
fell to the white bit of something which he had left lying on the
ground. Running swiftly the man disappeared off the left side of the
field in the direction of the highway.
Gale, her actions unnoticed by the other three who were deep in
conversation over a set of blue prints, slipped out the door into the
blackness of the hangar. She stumbled over tools and walked into ropes
as she found her way to the door. It took but a moment to slip back the
bolt and step out into the moonlight.
Swiftly she ran to the corner of the hangar and picked up the white
bundle she had seen. It was something hard wrapped in newspaper. She
turned and took it back to the office, puzzling over the contents.
Probably Brent would know what it was. Perhaps he had even instructed
the man to leave it there. But it was strange, she told herself, the man
had seemed so mysterious.
“I’m just hunting for trouble!” she scolded herself as she rebolted the
hangar door behind her.
“What is that?” Bruce asked when she appeared.
She laid the package down on the desk in front of Brent. “I saw a man
leave it by the corner of the hangar,” she replied.
Brent unrolled the newspaper and they all gasped.
“Yeow!” Bruce yelled. “It’s a bomb!”
Stubby grabbed the bomb and departed on a run, the others behind him. As
fast as his short legs could carry him Stubby ran out along the edge of
the flying field to where, at the end, a thick group of trees bordered
the smooth landing space. When he thought he was a safe distance away
from the hangar he deposited the bomb very gently on the ground and
bolted back to the others. Silently, standing in the shadow of the
hangar, the four of them watched and waited.
At last with a loud roar a shower of dirt rose high into the air.
“We might have been going up too if it hadn’t been for Gale,” Bruce said
appreciatively.
Brent said nothing, he merely watched until the last film of earth had
settled down into the hole where Stubby had placed the bomb.
Silently the four went back into the hangar. Brent pressed a switch and
the whole hangar was flooded with light.
Gale and Bruce saw two low winged monoplanes standing side by side. On
one the motor stood revealed, signs of Stubby’s work upon it still
evident. Brent limped to the latter plane, a black and silver work of
art, and laboriously climbed up to look at the motor.
“Has the other one got your motor, too?” Bruce asked, indicating the
yellow plane standing to one side.
“No. I use that one to run about in while I work on this. I used to
experiment with the one I cracked up, too,” Brent said.
“With all these things happening aren’t you afraid to put everything
into that one motor?” Bruce pursued.
“What do you mean?” Brent turned to look down at him.
“Well, if the race means so much you should have a—duplicate of that
motor,” Bruce said. “I’d put one in that plane, too, so if someone
throws a monkey wrench into the works in that motor you still can fly
with the other one.”
“It would take too long to perfect another one now,” Brent said.
“The one you cracked up had the new motor, didn’t it?” Gale asked.
Brent looked at her. “It did,” he agreed slowly, “and it wouldn’t take
as long to repair that one as to construct a new one.”
“Could you install it in the yellow plane?” Bruce asked.
“We could do that,” Stubby said eagerly. “It’s a good idea, boss.”
“But how would you get it to the airport from the island?” Gale wanted
to know.
They considered this thoughtfully; finally Bruce had a suggestion.
“David’s father has a light truck we could borrow to bring it from the
wharf here,” he said. “And we could bring it across the bay by towing it
with my boat. We could put the motor on a raft or something.”
“Let’s go,” Stubby said impatiently. “We ought to start on it at once.”
“But someone has to stay here,” Brent said slowly. “I think I had
better. I wouldn’t be much help traveling back and forth with this lame
ankle. Could you,” he asked Bruce, “get the other boys to help you?”
“Sure,” Bruce said at once. “We will go now. It won’t take so very
long.”
“I’ll stay here and wait for you,” Gale proposed.
“Don’t you think you had better go home? Your parents will worry,” Brent
Stockton said.
“They know where I am,” Gale said. “Besides, I want to wait and it isn’t
late.”
Brent and Gale stood at the door of the hangar and watched until Bruce
and Stubby had disappeared toward the highway where they were to take
the bus back to town. When there was nothing in sight and not a sound to
disturb the stillness the young man and the girl continued to stand
there. The moonlight was like a path of silver straight down the runway
of the landing field.
“When are you going to test your plane?” Gale asked, watching the slow
circle made by the searchlight on top of another hangar.
“In a day or so,” the pilot answered.
“Take me up with you?” Gale asked shyly. “I’ve never been up in a
plane.”
“It is thrilling,” Brent said, smiling. “Certainly I’ll take you up. The
day before the race in the black and silver plane,” he added.
Gale felt immediately marvelously happy. To sail through the clouds like
a bird—and with Brent Stockton! Gale leaned against the hangar and
sighed. Dreamily she closed her eyes. It was a heavenly night. The cool
wind stirred a wisp of curly hair against her cheek. The wooliness of
her sports coat felt warm. Gone was all thought of school troubles. Gone
even was the remembrance of the narrow escape they had all had from the
consequences of the bomb.
But suddenly, quite suddenly, she was afraid. Of what she knew not.
Nothing had happened. The moonlight was just as bright, the breeze just
as cool and faintly scented. The searchlight still made its steady white
circle. The stars shone with the same shimmering brightness. It was
something intangible. It was as though, somehow, she had suddenly had a
glimpse into the near future. A glimpse of something stark and tragic
that was to happen.
Brent Stockton sensed rather than saw the quiver that ran through the
girl. He looked down at her. Her head was on a level with his shoulder,
her hands were deep in her pockets. Her eyes were fixed out across the
landing field, her lips quivering.
“What is it?” he asked anxiously.
“I—I don’t know,” she managed to whisper faintly. “I have the strangest
feeling that something is going to happen—something dreadful!”
“You are cold,” he said, a comforting arm instantly about her shoulders
to quiet her trembling. “Come inside.”
She shook her head, leaning against him, grateful for his nearness and
his understanding.
“No—it is something else. I know something is going to happen. I can
feel it!” She turned dark eyes to him. “What can it be?” she whispered
fearfully.
“There is nothing going to happen to you,” he said smiling. “Do not be
afraid.”
“I’m not afraid for myself,” she said slowly, “but you—if anything
should happen to you——” In confusion, she bowed her head on his
shoulder and a sob escaped her.
His eyes were wide with amazement as he awkwardly patted her shoulder. A
tender smile flitted across his face. He had never for one moment
supposed that she—— How in the world should he deal with the
situation?
“Gale,” he spoke gently, slowly, “have you ever been in love?” He felt
her stiffen instantly and her head came up with a jerk.
“Why—what do you mean?” she asked faintly.
“Sit down,” he invited. Two boxes stood against the hangar wall and he
seated himself beside her. “I am speaking this way because I don’t want
you to make a mistake. Have you ever,” he spoke lightly, almost gayly,
but Gale could grasp their hidden meaning, “have you ever thought about
what the French call—ze grande passion?”
“Y-Yes, some,” Gale admitted.
“Will you tell me what you think it is—love, I mean?” he asked softly.
“Well,” she said with difficulty, “it is probably the biggest thing in
our lives, isn’t it? I mean—did you ever read Elizabeth Browning? She
says—‘I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life!’ I
always thought—maybe—I should love someone like that some day.” Gale
was so thankful for the darkness here against the hangar. He couldn’t
see how her cheeks were burning. Never, never, had she thought she would
ever talk to anyone like this!
Brent Stockton thoughtfully brushed an imaginary bit of dust from his
jacket sleeve. “You are right,” he said. “You should love someone like
that. You are young and—quite lovely.” He grinned down at her. “There
will be a great many boys in love with you, Gale.”
Gale felt herself blushing more furiously than ever. How could he talk
like that? She laughed lightly.
“Positively,” he insisted. “But you are still in school. You want to
make something of yourself. Remember that! You don’t want love until you
are ready for it. You want to finish growing up first. You will find it
worth while in the end.” He laughed. “I sound like Old Man Experience
himself, but I can’t quite see how to make you understand.”
Gale was fast regaining her composure. “I believe,” she said forcing a
laugh, “that you are in a very good-natured way warning me not to fall
in love with you and not to mistake a silly school-girl crush for the
real thing.”
He cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Ah, now you have taken offense.
I’m sorry, Gale—I only meant the best, to make you——”
Gale stood up, pulling her coat closer about her. “I don’t think I shall
wait for Bruce after all. I shall go home.”
“I will take you,” Brent said immediately.
“No, please! I’d rather you didn’t.” Her words rumbled out in a rush and
she turned away to the road.
“Gale,” he called after her. “Wait!” He held out his hand and she put
hers into it reluctantly. “You are sweet, Gale. We’re always friends,
remember!”
“Good night,” she said thickly. When she walked to the bus stop there
were tears in her eyes, tears of anger and self-reproach. How could she
ever face him again? She had practically thrown herself at him! And the
way he had talked to her——
In the darkness she stopped to wipe away a surreptitious tear and
instantly came to attention. She had not yet quite reached the road.
Here there were heavy trees on each side of her. From the trees on her
right came the sound of voices, low, sinister voices. She recognized one
of the voices as that of the man who had almost taken the plans from
Bruce that night at the old spring house!