Chapter IV: Part 4

By that time the waiter appeared and the three gave their undivided attention to the meal, which was a particularly tasty one. There were a great many people in the place and they looked as if they hailed from all parts of the world. The helmets of the three Texans attracted some attention to their table and a few of the people smiled in a friendly fashion as if flyers were everybody’s comrades. When they were about half finished a party of two gentlemen and a young lady took the nearest places. The girl looked as if she were mighty disappointed over something and Jim heard her remarks.

“I think it’s a shame my brother could not be here,” she said.

“It sure is, Lillian, but the Marines down below us haven’t been given any leave for several weeks. They have to keep right on the job while things look nasty,” one of the men explained.

“Yes, of course, but I did hope Phil could make it. It’s been months since he could get away.”

“He’ll get extra time later. Be a good sport and try to get along with just us. We’re really not half bad companions if you’ll give us a chance,” the man said gravely.

“You are both perfect dears. I’ve been so disgruntled that it’s a wonder you haven’t wanted to drop me into the Gulf. I’ll try and make amends.” She laughed gayly and her companions joined in heartily. After that the three seemed to have a very jolly time, and Jim forgot all about them. He was thinking of Don Haurea and his warning for them to be on the alert, and that was one reason he was anxious to get back to the drome and into the air as quickly as he could.

“I’d better reserve a room,” Mr. Austin suggested.

“Let’s go on, Dad. We can make Havana before dark,” Jim said quickly.

“That’s rather a long stretch of flying, my boy. I thought we would rest here, and go on in the morning.”

“Bob got a nap on the way, so he can relieve me, and the quicker we get off, the better. I don’t want to hang around here if we do not have to.”

“I’m sure that I don’t,” his father admitted.

“It’s unanimous. Let’s hurry and get something that feels like no shirt, and be on our way,” Bob urged. There was no objection to this, so they paid their bill, Jim got a taxi to take him back to the drome, while his father and Caldwell took another to expedite their shopping tour.

In due time young Austin was unlocking the hangar, and he gave the “Lark” a careful examination, then replenished the fuel supply, tried out the engine, and finally rolled the plane down the runway. One of the mechanics offered his assistance, which the boy declined for he didn’t really need help and he didn’t want an outsider to play nursemaid to his bus. Everything was in apple pie order when a taxi drove up with Mr. Austin and Bob, and Jim noticed a third man, who was in the uniform of an officer of the Marines.

“We got a dozen sets of cob-webs, Old Timer,” Bob called.

“I’ll change into mine right away.” The two were coming toward him, and Mr. Austin handed a small package to his son.

“I have the extra suits in another bundle to put with the luggage. Jim, we met Lieutenant Morrow of the Marines. He is in a very unfortunate predicament, my son, and wants us to give him a lift across to Havana so he can join his company. He has been on leave, but he missed the N. Y. R. B. A. air line, and he cannot get a boat. It is very important that he join his company tonight,” Mr. Austin explained as he introduced them.

“Didn’t know there were any Marines in Havana,” Jim remarked as he greeted the officer.

“There aren’t, but I can get a lift from there without any trouble,” Lieutenant Morrow explained. “You see, I got five-day’s leave because my wife was sick. She’s been in a bad way and I stayed with her until the last minute. I wanted to be with her every minute that I could. Then the train I took to get here was delayed,” Morrow said. His face wore an anxious expression, and his eyes looked as if he had lost a week’s sleep, but Jim hesitated.

“He asked us if we were flying to Cuba and told us the trouble he’s in. It is serious, you know Jim, if he doesn’t join his company when he’s supposed to. I told him that you have been doing the piloting and I do not know how much weight we are carrying,” Bob explained. Jim could see that both his Buddy and his father were anxious to accommodate the stranded Marine and he frowned.

“Mighty sorry, old man, not to be able to help you out. I’d do it in a minute, but our plane is not very big and I’ve just tanked up to the last ounce we’ll carry,” he said with emphasis. Bob looked at him, but Jim busied himself about the machine.

“Can’t you dump out the extra stuff?” Morrow urged. He had fully expected to be taken and he showed his resentment. “I’m an officer of our Federal Government and you are in duty bound to assist me. I can order you to do so--”

“How do you get that way, Old Man?” Jim demanded, whirling on him quickly. “Am I responsible because you over-stay your leave? Florida has any number of air planes and you’ll have no trouble getting one to take you across if you need to go. Get in, Bob and Dad.” He snapped out the last words so sharply, that his two companions complied without question, and it wasn’t until they were in their seats that it occurred to them that they had treated a United States officer rather sharply, but the “Lark” was already thundering into the sky. She climbed to ten thousand feet, then leveled off, and her nose was turned south.

“Come on, old man, change seats with me,” Bob insisted.

“All right,” Jim agreed, then he spoke into the tube. “O.K. back there, Dad?”

“Yes I am, my son, but I do not understand why you chose to be so uncivil to that officer.”

“I wasn’t until he began to shave-tail me, and besides, if we dropped down on one of the islands tonight and found you nicely strangled back there, your wife would never let us take you out again. We’re not taking any chances,” he answered.

“Have you any reason to believe the man was misrepresenting himself?”

“A frail one. While we were at lunch I heard a pretty girl almost cry because her brother, who is a Marine, hadn’t been able to get leave in weeks, and another thing, I bet a gold tooth that the boat service from Miami to Cuba is better than the train service from New York to Chicago,” he answered. “I’m going to change my togs.”

“You surely have a mind in the making, oh my step-brother. I was so busy feeling sorry for the poor goop that I didn’t use my think machine at all,” Bob remarked ruefully.

“Well, use it now, old fellow. In a few minutes Neptune will be under us and he’s a jealous God. Fly high, wide and handsome,” Jim chuckled.

Bob turned his entire attention to flying, while Jim managed to maneuver out of his heavy clothes and get into the lighter garments. It was pretty close quarters, but it was accomplished at last, and Austin settled himself in his seat, took a look at the parachute, adjusted that and the safety strap, then he had time to observe the vast expanse of ocean rolling in endless white-tipped billows beneath them. The plane was singing along smoothly, there were only a few clouds in the blue dome above, but the wind was strong. Austin scrutinized the chart, did some calculating, and finally made a decision.

“I say, Buddy,” he spoke into the tube and Bob took the other end.

“What say?”

“If the esteemed Lieutenant Morrow was on mischief bent he will manage somehow to get word ahead of our coming. By the way, how did you happen to run into him?”

“We were just coming out of the store and he spoke to us. Said he could tell that we were traveling by plane because we had on the helmets, and he wanted to know if we could carry an extra passenger. He told us his tale of woe and finished up by saying that he was desperate to get back to his company because the Marines are busy lads right now, besides it would go hard with him if he didn’t put in an appearance on schedule,” Bob explained.

“I see. Well, you know Dad hopes to forestall any crookedness that may be afoot when he lands in Cuzco. It’s a big deal they are putting over, the parents are involved heavily financially, and if a few of those lads who are in a hurry to get things cleaned up found out that Dad is flying to the scene of the massacre-to-be they might try to clip our wings; do something to keep him away until it’s too late,” Jim announced.

“Yes, that’s clear, but who the heck knew we started?”

“Search me, but if Morrow was trying to put one over on us between Miami and Cuba, he’ll let his boss know that we didn’t fall so well for his sob stuff. They’ll work fast, do something else.”

“Do you believe Morrow was not on the level really?”

“I don’t know whether to believe it or not, but it’s just as well not to give him a chance.”

“The more I think of him, the fishier he gets. Got a plan to upset his apple cart in Havana?” Bob inquired.

“Yes.”

“Shoot. What is it?”

“We won’t land there.”

“Go right on to Cuzco?”

“Not so foolish as that. Dad wouldn’t stand for it. We’ll give our island of Cuba so much space that the inhabitants won’t even see a speck of us, and we’ll make our landing on Jamaica. There’s a port called Montego and I’m sure the inhabitants will be delighted to see a couple of little boys who are trying to get along in the world.” Bob glanced at the map, did some mental figuring, and nodded his approval.

“We may as well keep our rear seat from knowing what our front seats are doing,” he grinned.

“You get brighter by the minute, old man.”

“It’s the company I keep. I’d be much better if you weren’t such a poor skate,” Bob retorted.

“Grab your parachute, man, you are going to be dropped into yon briny.”

“Unhand me. I say, let’s eat in the air. We’ll announce that later to Dad. Gosh, he’ll think we’re bum pilots not being able to see Cuba,” Bob chuckled.

“Perhaps he’ll take a nap, and I’ll tell him you were piloting,” Jim announced cheerfully. “Anyway, he’ll be glad we are nearer.”

“Sure. It’s over five hundred miles by a straight line, and we may hit a fog, or a bad wind. Those islands down there are the Keys. See how high you have to get to be out of sight of them.” Bob zoomed a thousand feet higher and the tiny dots were lost from their sight.

“That means that an inhabitant, if he has no glasses, can’t see us,” Jim remarked.

“Yes, but Cuba is three or four hundred miles long and a hundred wide. If we fly straight across it that will take at least twenty minutes, at top speed. Lucky there are no indicators in the passenger seat. You have to remember that Dad’s a pilot too,” Bob reminded his buddy.

“I don’t believe he’d object if he knew. I’ll tell him.” Jim took up the tube and spoke to his father. “I say Dad, we can make Montego in Jamaica easily before dark. Suppose we do that, then tomorrow we won’t have such a long hop.”

“Hump. I should be glad to cover the additional miles if you are sure that it isn’t going to be too much for you boys and the “Lark”. We do not want to be fool-hardy,” he answered.

“It’ll be easy, and the weather is great. We may as well take advantage of it as long as we can,” Jim explained.

“If you are all right when we fly over Cuba, why, go on by all means.”

“Good. We’ll make a raid on Mom’s baskets for supper.”

“I’m glad he knows,” said Bob, and Jim nodded his agreement.

After that, Austin spent some time observing the ocean rolling by under them, then he got one of his books from under the seat and prepared to do some studying, but he kept the tube in his hand so that his step-brother might call on him without delay. In a few minutes he was so absorbed in what he was learning that he completely forgot he was not at his desk at home or at the laboratory at Don Haurea’s. Some time later Bob nudged him, and Jim glanced up.

“Cuba?”

“Must be. I’ve seen a couple of planes floating around. There’s a big fellow over there,” Bob remarked and Jim looked in the direction indicated. The long island racing toward them looked remarkably beautiful, and the boy could see numerous boats of all sizes on the water, besides quite a few planes that seemed to be soaring about lazily in the sky as if their owners were merely having a good time.

“Better go higher,” Jim suggested. Bob turned the “Lark’s” nose into the air, zoomed up swiftly, and raced forward. She was not traveling at the extra speed, so that would not call special attention to her, but while they were still some distance from the island, they saw one plane detach itself from the rest, and start out as if it intended to meet them. It soared swiftly toward them, and Jim watched it thoughtfully, while Bob tried to figure out whether it was merely a friendly advance or someone who was interested in looking them over. He decided not to give the fellow a chance, so he zoomed swiftly up, swerved his course slightly, and sped forward well out of the observer’s range of vision. By that time they were nearing Havana, could see the activity of the lovely city, and again Bob climbed, then racing into a cloud bank he put on full speed. Jim watched the other plane, which circled wide before it followed toward the land.

“That guy was looking for us, Buddy, but he doesn’t know if it’s us, or isn’t us,” Jim remarked grimly.

“Did I give him the slip?”

“I think so. Can we keep in these clouds?”

“They looked deep when I was watching them,” Bob replied grimly.

IX

THE STOWAWAY

The “Lark” soared so high and swiftly over Cuba that it would have taken a racer to have caught even a second glimpse of her, and although it made the trip less simple both boys were glad that the thick atmosphere was not dispelled south of the island. Caldwell grimly made his calculations for their course and Austin checked up on them.

“Methinks this flight is not going to be all baby talk, Buddy,” Jim announced.

“Bet my new shirt against a set of red flannels that we hit some hot spots that won’t be all Peruvian weather,” Bob added.

“Wish we didn’t have to stop this side of Belize, but I reckon we better. We’re not doing a Lindbergh.” Just then the light flashed and Jim took up the speaking tube. “Are you there!”

“Certainly. I observe we are leaving Havana in our rear.”

“That’s good, we reared right over it and lost the reception committee, if one was out looking for us.”

“It’s pretty foggy, my boy.”

“We don’t need to worry about that because we don’t have to come down. We’ll probably hit some breaks in it before sunset. How do you like the trip? I forgot to suggest that you bring anything to read,” Jim laughed, and his father chuckled.

“Mother was more thoughtful. She put in a couple of books--mystery stories, and I have read half of one of them,” Mr. Austin answered.

“Great stuff. Maybe we can get some ideas. Got everything you need so that you can eat when the spirit moves?”

“Plenty.”

“Because if you haven’t, there’s a trolley line from the two cock-pits. Just slide up the round disk and you’ll find an opening big enough to send a club sandwich through.”

“I investigated the disk some hours ago, and I judge it opens behind the passenger seat in front.”

“It does. I’ll leave the door open so you need not be afraid when it gets dark. Got your sky-light up?”

“No. I find it very comfortable with it down. So long.”

“Everything O.K.?” Bob inquired.

“Top hole. He didn’t say anything about noticing the plane. He’s been reading a mystery story your mother provided.”

“That’s just like Mom,” Bob laughed. Assured that all was well, Jim went back to his studies, and an hour later he looked up at his step-brother, whose expression was a bit tense.

“Let’s swap places, old fellow,” Jim proposed.

“Don’t care if I do.” They made the change, and as soon as they were in their places, the younger boy began to investigate the hamper. “Shall I give you a hand out?”

“Sure thing.” The fog was considerably more thick than when the plane had dived into it, and as far as Austin could see, there wasn’t a break in any direction. He switched on the lights by the control board, but the tiny cabin was bright enough he decided.

“Can you spare a knee?”

“One.” Jim moved his leg and Bob spread a napkin, balanced a wooden plate on it, and proceeded to fill it with bread, butter, pickles, cold roast beef, and a bottle of milk. “Go easy,” Jim ordered, so the milk was given a safer place on the floor. Although it was early by their watches and also the clock in front of them, they gauged their actions entirely on their stomachs, and attacked the food with keen appetites. When they had eaten all they could, Bob repacked the hamper, then slid his chair forward and prepared to take a nap.

“Better put a coat over you,” Jim suggested. He pulled out his own jacket and threw it over his Flying Buddy.

“I say, Jim. Wonder if we hadn’t better stick by the plane all night?”

“You mean keep on watch?”

“Yes. We’d be in a dandy fix if we found it with the propeller gone in the morning.”

“Let’s see what sort of place we can park it in,” Jim suggested. He had been wondering uneasily about the town in which they expected to spend the night, and he felt reasonably sure there would be no airdrome, or a garage sufficiently large to admit the plane. On thinking it over, he decided that the island was probably thinly settled, and in that case there must be some sort of barn or open shed. After that, Bob settled back comfortably, his mouth dropped open, and if the engine had not been roaring so melodiously, the boy’s snores would have been audible.

“He sure can go to sleep without much trouble,” Jim grinned, but he knew that Bob had been so excited the night before that he had slept little, and he had been up two hours earlier than anyone on the K-A that morning. The time passed quickly, and at last the young pilot managed to get above the fog and see the great sun, which was almost setting. He drove along the top of the ceiling for a while, then dived through, and a few miles ahead he made out the dim edge of an island.

“That’s Jamaica. It must be,” he told himself. Then he picked up the tube to speak to his father in the back. “How goes it?”

“Fine.”

“We’ll land down here.”

“All right. I shall certainly be glad to stretch my legs.”

“I say, are we in Peru?” Bob poked up his head.

“We passed that hours ago,” Jim laughed.

“Gee, I had a heck of a dream.”

“Don’t tell it before breakfast, it’s bad luck.”

Jim circled the “Lark” above the island and selected an open space back of the town which he was sure was Montego. The Jamaica Island lay half hidden in the midst, and the three air travelers sat tensely wondering what the next few minutes would have in store for them. Swiftly the plane glided down and at last lighted near a group of low buildings that might belong to a small piece of farm land. None of them thought it strange that it should be a boy who would come racing inquisitively, for there isn’t a youngster on the face of the earth who could resist the force which compels him to run to a descending machine.

“Hello, Bud,” Jim called experimentally.

“Hello,” the little fellow drawled, and the three were delighted that the salutation was understood.

“May we leave our plane here, and get lodgings for the night?” was the next query.

“Pop’s coming.” Sure enough, a tall weather-beaten man came leisurely to greet them, and the boy shouted eagerly, “They want to stay the night.”

“They kin set in the shed,” the man answered.

“Thank you. We’ll be glad to pay,” Mr. Austin explained.

“Doesn’t cost me anything,” the man shrugged indifferently.

“It is worth something to us.”

“Satisfy yourself. You can get something to eat in the house, but we can’t sleep you. There’s grass in the shed.” With that cordial reception, he strolled off, his son at his heels, and Jim taxied the plane into the long open shed, which might have been built for cows, but had apparently stood unused for months or years. The Flying Buddies surveyed the place while Mr. Austin made his way to the house to arrange for food. He found a woman with a sick child in her arms, so instead of asking her to prepare a meal, he bought a few supplies which he carried back to the Buddies.

“I didn’t get much,” he announced.

“We can fix a bunk with the grass,” Jim told him. “There’s plenty of it and it’s clean. We thought we’d sleep down here by the plane, but there’s a more comfortable--”

“Let’s stay together,” the man proposed. “How about gas?”

“We don’t have to have it but I may as well see if we can get some in the town. I’ll take a walk down and find out. It isn’t more than a mile and it’s still light enough so that I can find my way,” Jim told him.

“Very well. I take it that you think the “Lark” should not be left without a guard.”

“Yes, we do, Dad.”

“I’ll stay with Bob. We can walk around a bit. If we feel like eating there is plenty in the hamper if I didn’t get enough from the woman. Have a snack with us before you go?”

“Guess not. I’ll trot along.”

Jim started across the sandy open space and soon came to a rough winding road that led toward the town. Walking briskly he wished they might stay over a day and get acquainted with that section of the famous island, but perhaps they could do that on the return trip when the business and its dangers were concluded. The boy had gone about half the distance when he overtook a lumbering cart hauled by two young steers, and this struck him as odd. In Canada he had seen ox teams plodding along and had thought them mighty interesting, but the idea of making beasts of burden out of cattle such as ran wild over the vast plains of Texas was a strange sight. As he neared Montego, with its narrow streets and low buildings, he noticed a few people glance after him curiously. Here and there he passed groups of children, ranging in color from fairest little tow-heads, to the blackest and kinkiest. Further along he met an hilarious band dancing mischievously around a hunch-back, who seemed even more dwarfed than his crippledness warranted.

“It’s good luck to rub his back,” cried one of the tormentors.

“It will make our cow well,” put in another as he skipped about the victim in an effort to touch the deformity.

“He keeps witches in his house.” Jim eyed the gang resentfully as he drew closer and had made up his mind to interfere, but was saved from participating in the brawl by a tall, military-looking man who suddenly stepped into the midst of the children; brandishing a cane swiftly to right and left.

“Begone, you vagabonds,” he shouted, and the youngsters scattered every which way, leaving the crippled dwarf and his rescuer standing alone. Then the man spoke sharply to the hunch-back, who promptly dodged out of sight quite as quickly as if he too expected a blow from the heavy stick. The big fellow looked none too prepossessing, so Austin turned down a near-by lane, and in a few minutes he found himself in what there was of the business section of Montego.

Jim searched about for a sign of a gas-station, but discovered none, then he watched for a garage, either public or private, and at last he came to a small one, where a negro was sleeping contentedly in a backless chair tilted precariously against the wall. The boy glanced into the tumbled building, but there was no sign of filling equipment, and as he stepped by the attendant, the chap opened his eyes a narrow slit.

“I want to buy some gas,” Jim told him.

“Yas--”

“Have you got any here?”

“Yas--”

“I’d like to buy some.”

“Ebbeyket--” the man drawled, and from the depths of somewhere a second man appeared. He stood a moment eyeing Jim, but the man at the door had resumed his nap.

“I want to buy some gas,” Jim explained.

“Yasss--”

“Right away.”

The chap yawned, then turned about, and without taking the trouble to make any sort of sign, he shuffled off deeper into the building. Jim followed and hoped the process of purchasing gas was not going to be too complicated. The colored man led the way to the rear, and there, in the dirt floor, Jim saw a deep hole into which one descended by rather a steep incline. The leader of the expedition showed no disposition to go any further.

“Is it down there?”

“Yes.” He sat down as if the effort was too much for him.

“How can I get it?” Jim wanted to know. He felt like shaking the fellow, but stuffed his hands into his pockets instead.

“Get it?” Austin couldn’t tell whether it was an answer or another question, but he decided to see if he were expected to serve himself, so he started down the narrow incline and in a moment stood before a tumbled door. Through the cave-like opening he saw an odd collection of goods and junk, but in the middle was a familiar metal tank which rested on a pair of saw horses. There was a faucet at one end, and the boy looked around for some sort of container. The only things he could see were some tall empty buckets.

“Haven’t you got a covered can?” he called, but the man who had been his escort did not reply, so in exasperation, the boy proceeded to fill one of the pails. He wondered how he would get the stuff to the “Lark,” and sincerely hoped that if he had to carry it he wouldn’t pass any careless smokers. It took the tiny stream quite a while to fill the pail but finally, when Austin had as much as he wanted, he lugged it up the incline, where he found the colored man curled comfortably on a pile of burlap. He shook the fellow vigorously and finally had him awake.

“Can I get this hauled up the road?” he demanded. The chap shrugged, so the boy went to look for some sort of vehicle and was rewarded by the sight of a team of steers sauntering past the building. “Hey, will you haul some gas up the road for me?” The queer team stopped at the sound of the voice, and the driver turned himself almost all the way around. Jim repeated his question and the man shifted a cud from one side of his mouth to the other.

“I’m through,” he remarked indifferently, and the team proceeded on its way, while Jim looked for some other conveyance. He had to go up the street to find one, and as he hurried along he saw the hunchback the children had been tormenting, striding as fast as his short legs would permit, beside the tall man who had scattered the gang. They were an odd pair, and after Austin ran by, the man called quickly, “Looking for someone?”

Jim turned, and the chap smiled cordially.

“I’m getting some gas and want to have it taken to my plane,” he explained. “I can’t seem to find anyone who isn’t asleep.” As he spoke, the dwarf faded out of the picture but Jim didn’t give him a thought.

“Where is it, the gas, I mean?” the stranger inquired politely.

“In that barn, or whatever it is,” Jim answered.

“And your plane?”

“About a mile up the road. We came down back of the town on a sort of farm where we are spending the night.”

“I have a small car, I’ll fetch it up to you in about an hour, if that will be time enough. I am driving that way,” he offered.

“Thank you very much. I’ll appreciate it no end,” Jim said heartily and wondered why he had thought the man unpleasant.

“It will be no trouble at all. I’m glad to help you out.” The chap strode off as if determined not to listen to more thanks, and Jim shook his head.

“I certainly should like to know more about this place. I must have hit it at an odd time, for they are a queer bunch.” He went back to the barn, managed to get the doorman to settle the account, and chuckled when the attendant seemed to think that tomorrow would do nicely for the final transaction of the business. Darkness was settling slowly and gently over the land, and Austin started for the camp. He noticed that there wasn’t a sign of a star and his trained weather sense warned him that rain was in the air. By the time he reached the point where he had to turn across the field, or whatever it was, it was quite dark, but he saw his Flying Buddy’s flash illuminating the shed, and his father’s cigar as the man hurried to meet him.

“You were gone quite a while, my boy.”

“I guess it takes quite a while to get anything done in Montego, Dad,” he laughed, and recounted his experiences to the amusement of his audience.

“At any rate, the man with the car is on the job promptly,” Bob announced, as the automobile came tumbling toward them.

“We greatly appreciate--”

“Glad to be able to help you out. I’m on my way to Kingston, and in a hurry.” There was something about the brief phrases which did not invite further discussion, so the gas was unloaded quickly and the car dashed off into the darkness.

“Let’s get to roost and be on our way at crack of dawn,” Bob suggested.

“Suits me,” Jim agreed. It had been a long day and he was ready to rest, so he helped the younger boy put the final touches on their bed.

“I’m going to read a little while. You turn in now,” said Bob.

“Thought you were going to bed.”

“Did intend to, but I guess I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“Well, all right. You sit with your foot on me and give me a kick if anything goes wrong,” Jim directed.

“What’s the matter with my sitting the first watch?” Dad proposed.

“Everything. If things aren’t all right, I’ll call you later.”

“Very well.” In a few minutes both Jim and his father were sound asleep, while Caldwell doubled up with a book, but he didn’t read very attentively. The hours slipped by. Before midnight the world seemed to be enveloped in a mist which was growing thicker, and a bit later, the rain came down in an uncertain sprinkle which gradually grew in strength and courage until it was a downpour. Quietly Bob got rubber blankets, spread one over the sleepers, and wrapped himself in the other. He left his light on, and presently he too was fast asleep. When he opened his eyes the smell of toasting bacon assailed his nostrils and the sight of Jim busy over a camp fire made him sit up quickly.

“Gosh, is it morning?” It was still raining, but the camp was fairly dry, and the breakfast promised to fill a deep cavity.

“It’s early, but we’re going to start as soon as we can. How late did you sit up?” Jim asked.

“About twelve. Everything all right?”

“Sure. Dad waked about half past twelve and didn’t go to sleep again. Then he called me and we decided to let you have a few extra snoozes.”

“Thanks.” They did not linger over the preparations to get away, and as Mr. Austin had settled with the farmer, there was nothing to detain them, so about the time the sun should have been squinting over the horizon if the weather had been clear, they were in their cock-pits. With the covering in place, they were dry and comfortable, and in the rear, Mr. Austin had tipped his seat to an angle so that he could catch up lost sleep. The “Lark” ran out over the spongy ground, lifted heavily, then went soaring into the air, her motor roaring full blast.

“Well, we got away from there without any trouble,” Bob announced with satisfaction as he watched Jim busy with the controls.

“Yes. Reckon we gave that lad at Havana the slip good and proper,” he nodded. “Perhaps we were nuts about what he was after, but it was not a bad idea to keep on the safe side. Wow, this is thick.”

“All right back there?” Bob called through the tube.

“Quite snug, thank you.”

Austin kept the plane climbing steadily until the altitude meter registered twenty thousand feet, then he leveled off for the air was less dense near the ceiling, set his course for Belize, and settled down for the long run to British Honduras. Presently they were soaring through clear skies, but the fog rolled in thick waves and billows beneath them.

“I say, Buddy, change places with me and you can get at those lessons again. I got in some extra licks last night on my stuff,” Bob proposed.

“Very well.” Presently they had changed places and Austin got out his book and note papers. The plane was sailing smoothly and although the fog reached almost up to them at times, the job of piloting was comparatively easy and the boy thought, with an amused smile, of Don Haurea and his men back in the laboratory. When he returned home he would see records of the flight, and furthermore, he would probably be able to tell just how dangerous Lieutenant Morrow had been and exactly why that plane in Havana had shown so much interest in their arrival at Cuba. In a short while the boy was completely absorbed in what he was reading and it wasn’t until Bob pressed his foot vigorously that his attention was called back to the present.

“I say, there’s something rotten about the “Lark”. She’s been flying rather heavy, and--what in the name of Sampson’s donkey is that smell?” Jim glanced at the board and at the same time sniffed cautiously. There was a faint, unfamiliar odor about the tiny cabin, but it was more like the heavy fragrance of too many flowers than anything decaying.

“It’s queer. I’ll lift the roof.” He dropped his work under the seat, unlatched the covering and swung it back. “We haven’t needed that thing, and might have put it up when we got out of the rain.”

“Yes. Suppose that smell is from tropical plants?”

“Good heavens, how could it be?” Austin picked up the tube to speak with his father, if the man were awake, and as he did so his eyes fell on the reflection globe in which he could see the rear of the plane. The end of the tube dropped from his hand, his lower jaw sagged, and he choked in horror. Bob looked at him quickly.

“What is it, old man?”

“Good God, look.” He pointed to the mirror, but the range of Bob’s vision was different, so he turned his head. What he saw left him perfectly speechless. All unconscious that he was being observed, some one was crawling out of the rear cock-pit. Someone who looked more like a monkey than a man, and as he clung to the rim, he secured the transparent cover of the cock-pit.

“What is it?” Bob finally gasped.

“The dwarf, Buddy, we didn’t get off as easily as we thought.”

“That smell must have come through the opening--Jim--your--” But the boy did not finish the sentence.

X

THE FIGHT IN THE AIR

“My father!” The Sky Buddy’s faces paled. “He’s been doped back there.”

Without a second’s hesitation Jim loosened his safety belt, and glanced about for something heavy, but there wasn’t a weapon available, so he sprang over the cock-pit, while Bob fought to keep the plane steady. Cold chills of horror were racing up and down his spine, but he kept to his task grimly, twisting around so that he could keep Jim in sight. He did not know who the dwarf was, for in his account of the evening before, his step-brother had said nothing of the pitiful little cripple, but as Caldwell got a look at the sinister figure crouched more like a beast than a human he felt nothing but loathing for the fellow. Vaguely he wondered how the stowaway had gotten there, and what deadly drug had been released in the rear cock-pit.

The force of the wind nearly drove Austin backwards, but he braced himself to keep his balance and clutching the strut, hauled himself along the fuselage. By that time the dwarf had seen the boy coming and with an evil leer, crouched to wait. With a quick lunge Jim reached the rim of the rear cock-pit and glanced through the transparent roofing. He saw his father, not asleep, but slouched low in his seat, his head dropped forward, his hands hanging limp in utter helplessness. With a choking sob the boy dropped, his fingers grabbed the outside latch, and he tugged frantically to lift the cover. For the time being he thought only of getting air to his father; perhaps it was not too late, but every second was precious. With strong fingers Jim managed to shove the latch loose, but before he could do more than that, the dwarf sprang on his back, his long arms entwining around the boy’s neck, his legs gripping Jim’s thighs. Vainly he tried to shake off the burden, or twist him around, but if the body of the dwarf was crippled, his limbs were amazingly powerful, and the arms as long as a very tall man’s. Desperately Jim clawed at the hands, and after seconds of futile effort, he managed to get a grip on the dwarf’s thumb and bent it down until he thought the fellow would let it be broken, but at last the assailant was forced to release his hold.

With a quick shake, Austin got free, but only for a moment. He had backed onto the roof of the cabin, and tried to smash it in with his heel, but the material, although frail looking, was a composition made in the Haurea’s laboratories and it resisted all his effort as if it were heavy steel. The dwarf sprang again, but Jim ducked under his legs, whirled as he came up, only to meet another furious onslaught, which toppled him backwards. He barely managed to save himself by catching hold of the strut, and the pair swung out over the rolling fog. The “Lark” banked quickly, enabling Jim to get a foothold, and it rode on its side until he was once more standing upright.

Above the roar of the engine, Jim could hear the dwarf bellow in his face, and his hands clawed at the boy’s throat. The fellow did not seem to mind whether he remained on the plane or fell off of it, but he was determined to drag Jim with him if he went down. His great fists began to hammer the boy’s face and body, but try as he would, Austin was unable to get in an effective blow or do more than defend himself feebly. He realized that Bob at the controls was watching every move, that he made the “Lark” sway, tip, and slant in every direction, but he realized that his Flying Buddy could do little to help him.

Finally a particularly vicious smash sent Jim reeling, his head toward the forward cock-pit, the dwarf on top of him. He caught his victim by the collar and twisted his fingers tightly in the cloth, then his eyes rested on Bob.

“Turn around and go back, or I’ll kill him,” he shrieked.

“All right. Let go of him and I’ll turn around,” Bob answered coolly.

“You turn,” the fellow roared and his great hand twisted more tightly.

“You win.” Caldwell leaned forward over the board, one hand went like a flash downward as the “Lark” began the curve to return. The dwarf glanced out to be sure that the order was being obeyed, then Bob swung up his shoe in his hand, but before he could do anything Jim renewed his struggles and the pair slid over the side into space.

Quick as a flash, Bob tipped the plane’s nose downward and followed into the swirling fog. The two dropped swiftly, but in a moment Caldwell saw Austin kick himself free from the clutching arms, sprawl out as he hauled on his parachute, and after a breathless moment, its dark folds opened around the boy’s body. Then Bob remembered that the Don had said that in an emergency it would act as a life saver. With the engine racing, the “Lark” cut through the air, dove between the two, partly righted itself and leveled out below Jim. Caldwell stood up as he calculated the distance, and a moment later he felt a thud on the top of the wings as Austin landed, then the pilot reduced the speed until it was barely enough to sustain the plane in the air.

It seemed to the boy as if months passed before he saw Jim’s legs slip over the edge of the wing. He watched tensely as his flying buddy climbed painfully down to the fuselage, hung on to the supporting strut, then, the instant he had regained his balance, he hauled the folds of the parachute out of his way and crawled toward the rear cock-pit. In a moment he had the lid up and dropped in beside his father.

“Wow!” Bob glanced at the indicators. They were a thousand up, so he banked around and began to climb as fast as the “Lark” could carry him. He set his lips tightly as he recalled the last he had seen of the dwarf tumbling through the fog toward the ocean below. The fellow had no parachute and the boy wondered why he hadn’t taken the precaution to equip himself with one of those in the rear cabin, but it was a mystery he could not answer. Painstakingly Bob studied the map and calculated the course. He had made up his mind to carry on until Jim could let him know how things were in the rear. They were above the fog again, and miles ahead the boy could see the blue waters of the Carribbean Sea stretched beyond the rim of mist. Just then he noticed the light flash over the radio and he picked up the speaking tube. Although he was mighty anxious to hear what his step-brother had to tell him, he dreaded to listen for he was sure that something terrible had happened to his step-father.

“Hello, Old Timer,” he tried to call cheerily, but his voice shook.

“Hello yourself. Thanks for the wing-ride. All right up there?”

“Sure thing. Are you battered much?” Bob asked.

“Some, but not enough to put me out,” Jim told him.

“How is Dad?”

“Doing fine. Guess when we opened our roof it drove fresh air through that communication tube and that kept him from smothering. Soon as I got this lid open, he came to.”

“Oh gosh, I’m glad. Has he told you what happened?”

“He doesn’t know. He said that he went to sleep and was dreaming of being choked, and he roused a bit. The air was stinging and his head got full of pains. He tried to signal to us but became unconscious before he could reach the set,” Austin explained tensely.

“Do you suppose that kid hid himself back there?”

“Yes. Folded himself in among the luggage. None of us thought to look about either cabin, and when we were up, and Dad asleep, the dwarf let out enough of the stuff he carried to make Dad dopey. Then he crawled out, smashed the tube and closed the place tight. We had that hole in front open, so it drove some air in; churned it around and we got the stench. That wasn’t a kid, it was a man, and whoop, Boy, he did fling a wicked arm. Could you see what happened to him?”

“He didn’t have a chute on and while I was trying to get under you, he fell on through the fog,” Bob answered.

“Perhaps some fishing boat or vessel will pick him up. Dad says that we must report what happened when we get to Belize.”

“Wonder who in blazes he was.”

“So do I. I saw him in Montego last night. Funny thing about it, Buddy. Some kids were tormenting him and that lad who brought us the gas chased them off. Later I saw the two of them together, but I didn’t think anything about it. Looks serious, Old Timer.”

“Sure does. Gosh, I suppose that pig-foot brought him out and told him to stowaway in the plane.”

“Expect that’s the answer. The dwarf wouldn’t have any reason to pick on us. I’ve got some of the tube and perhaps we can have the stuff analyzed and find out what it is,” Jim volunteered.

“He ordered me to turn back. I was going to give him a clip over the head with my shoe, when you slid off taking him with you. Glad you didn’t keep such company long.”

“I’m right particular about who takes me swimming in the Carribbean.”

“Wonder why he didn’t get into the extra chute,” Bob remarked.

“So do I, but I guess he was hiding under it. After this we shake the “Lark” out before we leave. Got anything to eat?”

“Sure. Shall I send some through to you?”

“No. There’s enough. After a while I’ll crawl forward and relieve you, Old Timer. Much obliged for the cooperation.”

“Always glad to oblige. I say, it seems queer to me that a man should take such a chance. If you saw them together, the fellow should have known you’d connect him with the slaughter.”

“Maybe, Bob, but I expect he planned we’d all go merrily down to Davie’s locker and it wouldn’t make a particle of difference what we had seen or suspected. I didn’t get the details of the plot from my late opponent but if I ever meet him again, you bet I will. So long.” The tube was hung up and Bob, with a mighty thankful heart attended to his job. He managed to get something to eat out of the hamper, and occasionally he’d wave an arm to his fellow travelers. Presently Mr. Austin was sitting up straight, apparently none the worse for his experience, and he smiled cheerily to his step-son.

Half an hour later the plane was sailing swiftly through clear skies, and before noon the rugged outline of the long coast of the Central American countries rose mistily out of the depths. It was a welcome sight to the flyers, and when the sun was almost straight above their heads, beating furiously, Bob started to glide to land and in a little while he had dropped onto a British field. Several English soldiers started toward them, and an officer came forward to speak to them.

“What’s this, a non-stop flight?” the man smiled.

“No, sir. We’ve made a couple of stops since we left Texas.”

“My name’s Seaman. Anything I can do for you?”

“Mine’s Austin.” He introduced himself and the Flying Buddies explained briefly why they had dropped out of the sky.

“Won’t you join us for lunch?” Seaman invited cordially. “We’re always delighted to have visitors.”

“Thank you. We shall be happy to join you. There is something which I must report and no doubt you can tell me just where to do it.”

“It will give me great pleasure.” The officer led the way to the barracks and his own quarters. “Make yourselves as comfortable as the heat will permit.” The three washed up, and then, seated under a whizzing fan, Mr. Austin told him about the stowaway. The man’s eyes were raised incredulously, but there was no doubting the story.

“You say that you are on a business trip; to Peru?”

“Yes. An important one.”

“No doubt someone, or group, is interested in seeing that you don’t get there,” Seaman suggested.

“That must be the solution, but it is very mystifying for we did not decide to fly down until two days before we started, and only a few close friends and the family knew how we were making the trip,” Mr. Austin told him.

“You are quite safe here, and we’ll do anything we can for you. I’ll make a report of your story, have it written this afternoon, and if you’ll sign it before you leave, it will be on record in case anything should come up later. If that dwarf is picked up by a boat he may claim that he was thrown out of the plane and make things unpleasant in that way. I’ll give you a copy of the papers with our signatures, and you can keep it on you to use if need be.”

“I have a part of the tube,” Jim explained.

“Leave a few drops of the stuff here and we’ll analyze it. See if our chemists can recognize the drug. There are hundreds of varieties picked up in the jungles every once in a while, but I never happened to hear of one acting as this did. You’re lucky to be here.”

“We certainly do appreciate your assistance,” Mr. Austin said warmly.

“I’ll have a guard posted by your plane while it is here so there will be no possible chance for a recurrence of what happened this morning, and when you are ready to refuel you can supervise the business yourselves. We have some good mechanics if you need any work done,” he offered further.

“We’ll give the bird an examination and be mighty glad to have your man’s help if anything has to be done,” Jim told him. Seaman touched a button and in a moment an orderly appeared. He stopped just inside the door, saluted briskly.

“Send in the clerk, and give orders that the American plane is to be carefully watched--strictly. No one, other than the guard, to go near it, except the flyers, of course.”

“Very well, sir.” The man touched his cap again, wheeled and went out briskly. The officer turned again to his guests.

“Did you mention a ranch, the K-A?”

“That’s ours,” Bob said quickly. “The K-A and the Cross-Bar; they’re great ranches.”

“I do not doubt it. I have a friend, an old school pal who is one of the Royal Mounted Police Chiefs stationed in Quebec. A few weeks ago I received a letter from him and he told me that he had been in Texas on some official business. As I recall it, he said he stayed at the K-A, and he mentioned some rather wild experiences at another place--”

“The Box-Z,” Jim laughed.

“That’s it. Chap’s name is Allen Ruhel.”

“He stopped with us. We met him first in the Province of Quebec, and another chap, named Bradshaw. We had some great times in Canada, near the line, and we told them if they came to Texas we’d pin horseshoes on them, but they didn’t stay long enough,” Bob announced.