The Flying Machine Boys on Duty

The boys now turned their attention to the machines, and were soon ready for flight.

“Where are you going?” asked the ranger.

“Where should we be going but to Monterey?” asked Carl.

“Look here, boys,” the ranger began, “my name is Gilmore. I’m chief ranger of this district, and I know the officers at Monterey are not the kind of people you seem to think they are. Now, if you don’t mind carrying me, I’ll leave my pony in a little shack over the hill and go with you to Monterey.”

“Will you?” shouted Ben eagerly.

“That’ll be fine!” declared Carl.

“Of course you can get Havens out of jail?” asked Ben.

“Of course I can,” replied Gilmore. “Unless there is a charge of murder or some other felony against the man, something which will require the action of the county court, I can get him out of that country pen in about three minutes.”

“If you do,” laughed Carl, “Havens will fix you up all right! He’s got a pull with the department at Washington, and he never forgets a friend.”

Gilmore rode his horse away to the little shack which he had mentioned and then hastened back to the Ann. In five minutes all were aboard, Gilmore riding on the Havens’ machine with Ben.

“Can you drive an aeroplane?” asked Ben.

“I surely can,” answered Gilmore, almost screaming the answer in the boy’s ear. “I had a year’s experience at the game.”

Ben nodded in appreciation of the information and turned on full speed, traveling in the direction of Monterey.

An hour later the Ann, accompanied by the Bertha, settled down on the field at Monterey from which she had been so lawlessly abducted that very morning. It was evident that the town was still excited over the incidents of the day, for the minute the flying machines appeared in the sky there was a rush for the open field.

Among the first to approach Gilmore and the boys as they stepped from the machines was the red-faced deputy sheriff who had received Stroup’s fistic attention earlier in the day. He approached the boys swaggeringly but hesitated a moment when he saw Gilmore’s uniform. However, he kept his ground and glared at the boys angrily.

“Where did you get this machine?” he demanded, pointing to the Ann.

“Where did you get those black eyes and that red nose?” returned Carl. “You look as if somebody had been taking a punch at you!”

The deputy stroked the injured members sympathetically and took a step toward the boy. Gilmore blocked his passage.

“Perhaps you can tell me!” shouted the deputy.

“Tell you what?” asked Gilmore.

“Where these school-boys got this machine. Only a few hours ago I delivered it to the owners from whom it had been stolen.”

“Yes, you did!” replied Ben. “You delivered it to a couple of thieving Japs! That’s what you did!”

“Where is the owner of the machine now?” asked Gilmore.

“You ought to know if you got the machine of him,” returned the deputy.

“I refer to the man who brought the machine to town,” said Gilmore, coolly. “I asked about Louis Havens, the millionaire aviator.”

The deputy swung his fists wildly in the air and his face became, if possible, redder than before.

“You can’t fool me with any stories about millionaire aviators!” he shouted. “The ruffian who assaulted me and brought a stolen aeroplane to town is in jail, where he ought to be.”

“Did Havens assault you?” asked the ranger.

“He caused it to be done,” was the hot answer. “I saw him wink at the man, and then the man struck me on the nose.”

“And you’ve got a peach of a nose at that!” laughed Carl.

The deputy grabbed at the boy, but Gilmore stood in the way.

“If I had a nose like that,” yelled Ben, “I’d go off and sit in the dark and let it rest.”

“Do you know these fresh boys, Mr. Gilmore?” asked the deputy.

“They came from New York with Louis Havens,” was the reply.

“I don’t believe that man we’ve got in jail is Louis Havens at all!” yelled the deputy.

“Who is in jail with him?” asked Ben.

“Stroup the garage man,” was the reply. “He’s got four cases of assault and battery against him, and the man you call Havens is charged with stealing this machine.”

Just then a muscular, determined-looking man, trousers in boots and wearing a cowboy hat, approached the group, now continually increasing in size.

“Hello Sheriff Chase!” exclaimed Gilmore stepping forward.

“The sight of you sure is good for sore eyes!” returned the sheriff shaking Gilmore warmly by the hand.

After the two officers had exchanged greetings and talked for a few moments in low tones, the sheriff turned to his deputy.

“Pass over your badge and gun!” he said.

“I acted entirely within my rights,” whined the other, doing as requested.

“You acted like a fool!” replied the sheriff. “You’ve rendered your bondsmen and myself liable to heavy damages for your fool actions this morning. How much did the Japs give you for what you did for them?”

The deputy mumbled out some indistinct reply and turned away, followed by the jeers of the crowd.

“That settles that part of the case,” said Sheriff Chase with a smile. “Now I’ll deputize half a dozen trusty men to look after the machines while we go and have a talk with Havens.”

Half an hour later Havens and Stroup, trying to make the best of prison life by repeating their experiences of the morning, saw Ben and Carl come running toward the grated window.

“Ah, there!” Ben shouted seizing an upright bar in each hand and pressing his nose in between the two. “I always had my suspicions about you, Mr. Havens!”

“Doesn’t he look handsome in there!” shouted Carl, putting his hands on Ben’s shoulders and leaping up so as to get a better view.

“Glad to see you, you little rascals,” said Havens. “Have you got a ship I can ride in?” he asked. “I’ve gone and lost the Ann!”

“And we’ve found it!” yelled Ben. “And here’s Sheriff Chase and Ranger Gilmore who’ll have you out of there in about a minute.”

In less than half an hour the details of release were all completed, although Havens found it necessary to pay three pretty stiff fines for Stroup. However, the sheriff immediately appointed the garage man as deputy in place of the one removed, so his standing in the community was not at all injured by the experiences of the morning.

“And now,” Ben said as they walked away toward the Ann, “we’ve still got troubles of our own! Jimmie and Kit are lost in the air somewhere, and the outlaws are after them—hot blocks.”

CHAPTER XX

STEALING AN AEROPLANE

After a long time Jimmie had his bear steak, potatoes and coffee set before the men whom he believed to be the burglars who had been chased across the continent. The two sat down and ate with an appetite, while the boys were not at all slow in consuming large sections of bear.

“This is a queer world, ain’t it?” laughed Kit after disposing of a large steak. “Mighty queer world, ain’t it!”

“What’s the Solomon, now?” asked Jimmie, while Phillips and Mendosa looked up interestedly.

“Well,” the boy answered, “not so very long ago this bear was sitting under a Sycamore tree thinking what a nice boy steak he was going to have for dinner. Now, I’m sitting out here by a cosy little fire thinking what a nice bear steak I’ve just had for dinner.”

“I don’t think the bear had much of a chance of getting his boy dinner,” Phillips suggested. “Your friends would have rescued you in a short time if I had not put in my appearance.”

“Anyhow,” Kit went on, with boyish gravity, notwithstanding the twinkle in his eyes, “the bear and I have buried all hard feelings. At least I’ve buried about two pounds of it right now.”

During the remainder of the afternoon the two guests devoted most of their time to talking to each other in low asides, and to asking questions of the two boys. They wanted to know exactly what the aviator had said regarding the chief ranger, and especially what had been said concerning a stay of two or three days farther south.

It was very plain to Jimmie that the outlaws had not as yet been communicated with by either one of the two desperadoes sent on from New York. In fact, the pursuers seemed to have had uncommonly hard luck.

The one referred to by the boys as the monkey-faced man, the one who had chased Jimmie up New York bay, had smashed his machine and broken his arm, so he was entirely out of the race before reaching the Rocky Mountains.

The other aviator, the one described as the blond brute, had made successful progress across the continent only to have his motor go wrong during the chase of the afternoon. Jimmie was not much inclined to throw bouquets at himself, but he chuckled at the thought that only for his success in keeping the blond aviator amused the two outlaws might at that moment have been beyond the reach of the officers.

“And here they sit,” Jimmie chuckled to himself, “waiting for Ben and Carl to come back, or waiting for some officer to drop down and give them the pinch!”

There is an old saying that one must not count chickens before they are hatched, which Jimmie at that moment seemed to have overlooked. While he was complimenting himself on coaxing the outlaws into their present danger, the outlaws themselves were conferring as to what advantage they could take of the situation in which they found themselves.

“It’s just this way,” Mendosa was saying in a low tone to Phillips. “The whole country is astir over the smuggling going on, and will be full of officers in no time. Even if the police do not come here to get us, it is not improbable that they will blunder into our camp some night and lug us away as suspicious characters.”

“What ought we to do then?” asked Phillips.

“We ought to get out,” Mendosa replied. “Why, even the forest rangers are coming down here looking for you. I never did think it was good sense for you to wear that uniform.”

“Now don’t kick!” snarled Phillips.

“It’s enough to make a man kick!” Mendosa declared. “Here we thought we had a neat little home for the next three months, with no one aware of our presence here, and no danger of going hungry. But just look what we’re up against at this moment! I wish we could get one of the steamers that come up here with smuggled Chinks.”

“Much good that would do!” sneered Phillips.

“That’s what you say to all my suggestions,” Mendosa snarled.

“Then talk sense!” demanded Phillips.

“How’s this for sense, then?” asked Mendosa. “Suppose we disappear in that flying machine as soon as it gets dark.”

“Can you run it?” asked Phillips, scornfully.

“Of course not!” was the answer. “I can run a faro lay-out, but I can’t run an aeroplane.”

“Then where is the sense in the suggestion?”

“The boy can run it!” declared Mendoza.

“Yes, but will he?”

“Will he?” repeated Mendoza. “Let me get a knife next to his ribs and he’ll do anything I tell him to do!”

“But will the machine carry us two and the boys?”

“The boys?” scorned Mendoza. “We don’t have to take both boys with us! We can cut the kid’s throat and leave him in the bushes!”

“I wouldn’t like to do that,” Phillips said, hesitatingly.

“You wouldn’t, eh?” demanded Mendoza. “Who struck the watchman?”

“I didn’t!” replied Phillips.

“Yes, you did!” sneered the other. “Now, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he went on. “Just as soon as it becomes dark, we’ll settle the kid’s case and mount the machine with the other one. There are only two seats, but I’ll hold him in my lap, so I can embroider his back with my knife if he don’t do exactly as I tell him to. After he gets us out of the country, way down into lower California, we’ll drop the machine, boy and all into the ocean.”

“I’m a burglar but not a murderer!” insisted Phillips.

“Unless we do something,” Mendoza exclaimed, “you won’t be either a burglar or a murderer. You’ll be a corpse. For my part, I have no inclinations toward New York and the electric chair.”

“It may not be necessary for us to injure the boy,” Phillips suggested.

“May not be necessary?” repeated Mendoza. “If we go away and leave the kid here, he’ll chase over the hills until he finds some one to tell what we’ve done and which way we’ve gone. If we leave this boy, Jimmie, flying about in his machine, he’ll never rest until he tells the officers where he left us, and all about us. In order to protect ourselves, we’ve got to keep them quiet. Are you going to weaken now?”

“I’ll do whatever is necessary when the time comes,” replied Phillips.

Mendoza seemed satisfied with this, and the two men walked back to the fire and, notwithstanding the treachery in their hearts, engaged in friendly conversation with the boys.

Between that time and dark they brought out their bear steak again and clumsily broiled great slices over the fire. They also cut large quantities of bread into slices and made sandwiches. They even made large quantities of coffee and bottled it up in milk jars with patent tops in which the boys had brought a supply of the lacteal fluid.

The boys regarded them curiously as these liberties were taken with their provisions, but Phillips explained that he had many miles to travel during the next two days, and would not be within reach of his base of supplies. Mendoza was not so careful to quiet the suspicions of the lads, and his brusqueness was one of the things which put them on their guard.

“Those fellows are getting ready to jump out!” Jimmie insisted as he walked away from the fire with his chum.

“Well, we can’t help it if they do start away!” Kit responded.

“We might shoot,” Jimmie went on, “but that is a game two can play at, and it might not be a profitable one for us.”

“I wouldn’t like to do that, anyway,” said Kit.

“I’ve got a notion,” Jimmie went on, “that these fellows want to get away in the machine to-night. They probably believe the story I told about the chief ranger, but, still, they doubtless want to beat it while the beating is good.”

“I don’t believe they can run the machine,” argued Kit.

“I don’t believe they can, either,” answered Jimmie. “But they know that I can,” he added significantly.

“They wouldn’t take you along!” Kit replied.

“They would take me along while they could use me,” answered Jimmie, “and that would be the last of yours truly. Those fellows are cold-blooded murderers! I wish the other boys would come!”

“I’m afraid something has happened to them,” Kit replied soberly.

Twilight fell as the outlaws planned murder and the boys planned capture. As the latest finger of light touched a summit to the southwest an aeroplane was seen slowly moving toward the valley. It was plain even to the outlaws that she was seriously crippled. As for the boys, they watched her interestedly until a mass of clouds from the ocean settled down over the mountain top and shut her from view.

“That’s the fellow that give us the run to-day!” laughed Jimmie.

“You mean the man who told you about the chief ranger?” asked Phillips.

“The same,” answered the boy noticing at the same time with deep satisfaction the alarm in the other’s face.

“He couldn’t give any one a chase now,” Kit exclaimed. “Because he’s limping along like an old woman with a crutch!”

“He’s probably got a poor spark plug,” Jimmie commented.

There were a good many furtive glances passed by both parties as the outlaws began to prepare for the night. They were given a shelter-tent by Jimmie, and saw fit to place it within a short distance of the Louise. The tent to be occupied by the boys was put up not far away. More wood was put on the fire as the darkness grew. The outlaws understood that they would need light in order to execute the wicked purpose in hand.

Jimmie and Kit promised each other that they would not close their eyes in slumber even for a minute, but the day had been a hard one and presently Jimmie dozed off. Kit was still awake, but was inclined to let his chum sleep as long as he could keep his own eyes open.

“There’s no use in both of us keeping awake,” the small boy thought. “I can just as well watch those fellows. Anyway, if Jimmie has the situation sized up correctly, they won’t go away without letting us know,” he continued with a grim smile.

This reasoning was all very well on the part of the boy, but in five minutes he was sound asleep himself.

It was ten o’clock before the outlaws emerged stealthily from their tent. There was no moon as yet, although there would be one later on, but the light of the stars was quite sufficient for them to look over the entire valley in which the Louise lay.

Once beyond the circle of fire they could see quite distinctly up to the rim of the thicket at the sides of the bowl. They conferred together for a moment, and then Mendoza crouched down on the ground, drawing Phillips with him and drew a revolver.

“What is it?” asked Phillips.

“There, at the edge of the thicket!” replied Mendoza. “There is some one creeping along the ground!”

“It’s a dream!” declared Phillips.

At that moment the figure of a man left the underbrush and crept cautiously down toward the fire. The outlaws secreted themselves in the shadows and watched him. He hesitated for a moment, just at the rim of the firelight, apparently listening for some indication of wakefulness in the tents, then he moved straight to the collection of provisions which had been prepared, and a portion of which had been left in view.

“Guess it’s some hungry tramp,” suggested Phillips.

“Is it?” replied Mendoza. “Just look again! That’s Graybill from New York. Look at the big shoulders and the blond head of him!”

As Mendoza ceased speaking he gave a low whistle which the approaching man seemed to understand, for he straightened out of his stooping position and approached the provisions with confidence. In a moment he was greedily devouring meat sandwiches and drinking cold coffee, while Phillips and Mendoza were explaining the situation to him.

“Who’s in the shelter-tents?” he asked in a moment, and Phillips explained. “They’re nervy little foxes!” was Graybill’s only comment.

The three men talked together for perhaps ten minutes, during which the provisions were being stored away on the Louise. Graybill stood looking inquiringly into the air most of the time, while his companions were so occupied.

“It may be a bad night,” he said after a while, “and yet it may be a good one; but I’m willing to take the risk if you are. As I’ve told you, my machine is pretty well smashed, but I think the Louise will carry us all if we take good care of her.”

“She’s got to carry us all!” insisted Mendoza.

Graybill walked cautiously over to the shelter-tent where Jimmie and Kit were still sound asleep and looked in at the sleeping boys with a smile on his hard face.

“The little scamps!” he exclaimed. “They’re hardly larger than peanuts, yet they gave me a run to-day that many a trained aviator wouldn’t be able to manage.”

“Mendoza was thinking of quieting the boys for good and all before leaving,” Phillips suggested, rather suspecting what the answer of the aviator would be.

“Nothing doing!” said Graybill. “If he touches the boys, I’ll duck him into the first canyon we come to. They’re gritty little chaps, and I’m not going to see them harmed!”

“I knew what your decision would be,” said Phillips, “and that’s why I mentioned the matter to you. I don’t want to see the boys injured.”

“They won’t be!” declared Graybill.

Mendoza now approached the two, declaring that the provisions were all packed on the Louise, and that they were ready to take their departure.

“All we’ve got to do now,” he went on, “is to fix these boys so they won’t run out and tell tales after we’re gone!”

“Nothing doing!” exclaimed Graybill, and Mendoza turned away sullenly.

A few moments later, when Jimmie and Kit were awakened by the clatter of the Louise’s motors, they crawled sleepily out of their shelter-tent and looked up into the starry sky.

“That’s a joke on us!” Jimmie said.

“Yes,” Kit admitted. “We didn’t understand that they could operate the machine themselves, so we went to sleep. Now we’ve lost the murderers and what’s worse, we have lost the Louise!”

“And the Bertha,” added Jimmie, “and Ben, and Carl, and Mr. Havens, and the whole bunch!”

CHAPTER XXI

STROUP’S INSTRUCTIONS

“How comes it that Jimmie and Kit are lost in the air?” asked Havens, as, accompanied by the sheriff and the forest ranger, Gilmore, the boys walked away from the jail.

“It’s the most unaccountable thing!” Ben exclaimed almost impatiently. “We left Jimmie to watch the machines while we slept, and the first thing we knew he was up in the air, and Kit with him.”

“He may have returned to the camp by this time,” suggested Havens.

“If he has, I hope he’ll guard the Louise better than we guarded the Bertha!” Carl put in.

“What happened to the Bertha?” the millionaire asked.

Then Ben told the story of the visit of the Chinaman who had wasted their gasoline and eaten their provisions so ravenously. He also told the story of the landing on the summit, and of the visit of the two Japs in the Ann. Havens looked grave.

“Those Japs,” he exclaimed, “must have come directly on from New York to Monterey. They are well-known East Side crooks, and are using their old tactics here.”

“Well, they probably went away after Phillips and Mendoza in that limping old machine,” Carl said. “They can’t go far.”

Gilmore and Sheriff Chase, who had listened intently to the conversation, now began asking questions.

“You spoke of a Chinaman coming to your tent,” Gilmore began, “as if Mr. Havens already knew of the existence of such a party. What about that? When and where did you first see this Chinaman?” he added turning to Ben. “Tell me all about it.”

At this time the little party was directly in front of the hotel where Stroup had exhibited his muscular ability. As Ben explained about the first stopping-place, the two beacons, the schooner, the caves, and the swarm of Celestials, Gilmore drew him into the hotel and into the smoking room. Here he seated the entire party notwithstanding the frowns of the clerk, and closed and locked the door.

“Do you know,” he asked, after a moment’s thought, “that you boys have made a discovery which is likely to bring you a large amount of money?”

“I guess they can use it, all right,” laughed Havens. “They want a new flying machine every time they see a new model!”

“Tell us about it?” asked Ben eagerly.

“Well,” Gilmore went on, “we have been after those Chink smugglers a long time. The beacons have been observed night after night, and schooners have long been known to visit Monterey bay during the dark hours, but,” he went on, “we have searched the coast for a hundred miles and never found anything like the canyon you blundered into the first night of your arrival.”

“And we found it in the dark!” laughed Carl.

“Cheer up!” exclaimed Gilmore. “My men couldn’t find it in the day-time.”

“Well, you know where to get the Chinks now!” the sheriff broke in.

“But how about this Chink we were talking about?” asked Ben. “We found him tied up like a side roast of beef. We turned him loose, of course, and then he comes and serves us a dirty trick like that!”

Gilmore sat back in his chair and laughed heartily.

“That Chinaman,” he said after a time, “is not a Chinaman at all! That’s Sloan, the Washington secret service man!”

“But he looks like a Chink!” insisted Carl.

“Certainly,” answered Gilmore. “That’s why he has been assigned to this class of work.”

“Can he talk like a Chink?” asked Ben.

“As natural as life!” was the reply.

“Well, he don’t know much English,” grinned Ben, “if you leave it to me. All he said was ‘Savvy you, alle same’ and ‘No can do!’”

Again Gilmore broke into a roar of laughter.

“That’s one of his old tricks,” he said. “He’s so stuck on his make-up and his pidgin English that he seeks to keep up the deception when there’s no need of it.”

“Then we ought to know why they tied him up!” Ben declared.

“It’s easy enough to guess,” Gilmore answered. “He tried to play in with the crowd of smugglers and Chinks, and was detected and tied up.”

This from the sheriff, who was making notes in a memorandum book as the talk went on: