WHAT HAPPENED ON THE ISLAND.
"Look," cried Peggy suddenly, "isn't that a small island below there?
Maybe we can make that?"
"I'll try to," was the answer, as Roy gripped the steering wheel more
firmly.
At the same instant the motor, with a gasp and a sputter, gave out
altogether. But Roy knew how to volplane; that is, to reach the earth by
swinging the aeroplane in circles so that her stability was maintained
even with the power cut off.
He began to execute this maneuver now. The island which Peggy had
indicated was a small spot of land some five miles off the shore. It was
sandy and barren looking on one side, though at the further end from them
there grew some trees and scrubby looking bushes.
If he could only keep the aeroplane from sagging down into the sea Roy
was confident he could land at the place in safety. But it was still some
distance off and the aeroplane was still dropping with much greater
rapidity than seemed comfortable. Both Roy and his sister were expert
swimmers, and the boy knew that Jeff was at home in the water. But at the
same time, if they struck the surface of the sea, there was the chance
that they might become entangled in the aeroplane and drowned before they
had an opportunity to save themselves. So it was with a keen sense of
apprehension that the boy exercised all the air craft of which he was
master in bringing his sky cruiser downward.
"Oh!" cried Peggy suddenly as the Golden Butterfly gave a sickening
downward drop like a stone plunging to vacancy.
But the empty "air pocket" which the craft had struck was a small one,
and the next instant the atmosphere caught the broad wings and buoyed the
aeroplane up from what seemed to be destined to be a disastrous fall.
The drop had, however, had one good effect. It had thrown the aeroplane
almost on end, and in that manner drained a few last driblets of gasolene
from the depleted tank into the feed pipes.
It was only a little fuel, but it was enough to cause the engine to
resume operations for a couple of minutes. Taking advantage of this lucky
accident, Roy drove forward, and as the propeller came once more to a
standstill the Golden Butterfly sank down into a bed of sand which made
her almost at once stationary.
"Well, we are--aerial Robinson Crusoes," exclaimed Peggy as, having
clambered out of the chassis, she stood surveying the little island which
they had so fortunately landed upon.
"Yes, and if we don't get some gasolene pretty quick we'll be Crusoes in
a mighty uncomfortable sense," commented Roy, moodily gazing about at the
surrounding sea, smooth as a sheet of glass and without the sign of a
boat upon it. Far off on the horizon there hung a three-masted schooner,
all her sails set, in the flat calm. But she was too far off to aid them
even had she been able to.
"Tell you what we'll do, let's explore the island," said Jeff Stokes
suddenly.
"Of course," cried Peggy, clapping her hands, "that's what everybody does
in story books when they are stranded on a desert island, and right after
that they always find just what they want, even down to a silver-mounted
manicure set."
"I'd like to see a tin-mounted can of gasolene," grunted Roy.
Nevertheless after seeing to the engine of the aeroplane he was willing
enough to set out with the others to explore this little spot of land in
the Sound.
It was so small that it did not take them long to reach the summit of the
low peak into which it rose in the centre.
"Oh, there's a little hut!" cried Peggy, suddenly.
Sure enough, below them, and half overgrown with tall weeds and scrub
growth, was a half ruined hut. It was doubtless the relic of some
fisherman who had once used the island as headquarters. But it had,
apparently, long lapsed into disuse.
Hardly had they spied it before Roy made another discovery. Drawn up in a
miniature cove not far from the hut was a trim and trig white motor boat,
seemingly, from her long narrow shape and powerful engines, capable of
great speed.
Here was a discovery! A motor boat meant gasolene and companionship.
With a soft cry of joy Peggy was dashing forward toward the hut, from
which they could now hear proceeding the hum of human voices, when Roy
suddenly checked her. From the doorway there had suddenly issued the
figure of Morgan, the Bancrofts' butler. He gazed about him with a look
of half alarmed suspicion on his flabby face. The young aviators
instinctively crouched back behind a screen of green brush. They felt a
suddenly aroused premonition that everything was not as it should be.
"H'its nothink," said Morgan, addressing someone within the hut, after he
had gazed about a little more without seeing anything to further alarm
his suspicions.
"All right, if that's the case come back in here," came another voice
from inside the hut.
"Giles!" recognized the astonished Peggy. But another and a greater
surprise was yet in store for them when they heard another voice strike
into the conversation. There was no mistaking the tones for any others
than Fanning Harding's.
"You chaps are nervous as kittens," he was saying, "who on earth would
come to this island? We are as private here as if we were in the South
Seas. Now go ahead, Morgan, with what you were saying."
"Well, what h'I says is this," spoke up the English butler, "a fair
diwision and no favoritism. You say you want a third? You ain't
h'entitled to h'it. H'it was h'only by h'accident that you found h'out
h'our secret h'and h'I thinks you ought to be content with what you can
get."
"Very well," was the rejoinder, "but as you fellows know, I've got you in
my power. You daren't make a move without consulting me. If you try any
monkey tricks I'll crush you so quick you won't know what struck you. The
police are still carrying on their investigation, and----"
But here the voices sank so low that the eager young listeners could hear
no more. But their eyes shone as they exchanged glances. Somehow both
Peggy and Roy felt that the conversation had related to the mysterious
vanishing of the jewels. This at least appeared clear from Fanning
Harding's reference to the police.
"We'd better get back to the other side of the island before they come
out and see us," counseled Peggy. "If they were to find out we had been
spying on them they might get frightened and spirit the jewels away from
wherever they have them concealed, for I'm just as sure now that they are
all three mixed up in it as I am that--that----"
"We have no gasolene," put in Roy.
"But you have no proof and nothing to go upon," objected Jeff Stokes who
was, like most folks around Sandy Bay, familiar with the details of the
strange occurrence.
"That's just the trouble," said Peggy, "and it is just as impossible to
go ahead in the case as it is for us to fly without fuel."
"Peg!" cried Roy, suddenly, "look at that!"
"That" was a ten gallon can of gasolene standing on the beach by the side
of the motor boat. Evidently, to drag her bow up on the beach, they had
lightened the craft so as to make the task easier, for several ropes,
water jars and other bits of marine tackle lay about.
"If we could only get it," sighed Peggy.
"Yes, if," was the rejoinder from Roy, "but we can't steal it, and, as
you say, it might spoil everything if Fanning Harding thought that we had
overheard any of his talk."
"Look out!" warned Jeff Stokes in a whisper the next instant. The warning
did not come a bit too soon. The door of the hut opened and the party
which had been in conference inside emerged. They made straight for the
motor boat, which Jeff Stokes had, in the meantime, recognized as one
that was for hire at Sandy Bay.
"Come on, boys, we've got to be getting back," urged Fanning moving
quickly and preparing to shove the craft off.
"Wait till I chuck some of this truck in," grumbled Giles.
He stooped and rapidly threw in the ropes and other gear scattered about.
Then as Fanning Harding and the flabby-faced butler shoved the craft off
he made a hasty scramble for the boat's bow, leaping in as she floated
free of the beach.
"H'I soy," shouted Morgan, "you forgot the bloomin' gasolene."
"Better put back and get it," growled Giles; "if you fellows had helped
me a bit instead of givin' advice it wouldn't have bin forgotten."
"Oh, we can't bother with it now," struck in Fanning, impatiently, "we've
plenty in the tank to take us back. I'm not going to delay any longer."
He spun over the fly wheel as he spoke and the motor boat began to cut
rapidly through the water headed for Sandy Bay. As soon as it had gone a
safe distance the three stranded young adventurers joined hands and
executed a wild war dance of joy. By a means almost miraculous they had
fallen across the very thing they needed.
"It's just like the story books!" cried Peggy, delightedly.
They raced down toward the coveted can, which was half full of the
precious fuel. Enough to get them ashore at any rate. Before returning to
the stranded aeroplane they examined the hut, but found nothing in it but
a few broken-down bits of furniture.
"Queer," commented Jeff, "I half expected to find something."
"Not likely," laughed Roy, "they're too foxy for that."
"What do you suppose they came to the island for?" asked Peggy.
"To get a quiet place to talk where they would not be observed by any one
who knew them, I guess," rejoined her brother. "Oh, if only we could
solve the mystery. It's tantalizing to be so close to it and yet with so
many tangled ends left ravelled."
"Be patient," advised Peggy, "it will all come out in time. And now I'm
as famished for lunch as the Golden Butterfly is, so lets fill up the
tank and then head for home."
"Second the motion," laughed Jeff Stokes.
Half an hour later the Golden Butterfly once more rose, and without
incident or mishap winged her way back to Rocky Point.