The Flying Machine Boys on Secret Service

Jimmie ran out to the Louise, showing by his manner that he considered the question too trivial to be answered.

“Come on, Ben,” he called. “We’ll go up high enough to see where that aeroplane went. If she’s still on her way east, we’ll come down and go to bed, like good little boys. If she’s hovering around the other side of the summit, we’ll catch the aviator and put him through the third degree. We’ll have a good ride, anyway!”

No further objections were offered, and the Louise was soon in the air. The boys kept her down so that her lights could not be seen from the other side of the ridge until they came to the vicinity of the gully, then they lifted suddenly and crossed the summit, shivering in the icy air of the mountaintop.

The aeroplane lay just below on the ledge which had been occupied by the Louise on the previous night.

Three lights were in sight. The lamp on the forward framework of the machine was burning brightly, and two men were walking along the ledge with electric searchlights in their hands. They did not appear to be surprised at the appearance of the Louise.

“I wonder what they’ve lost,” said Jimmie, his teeth fairly chattering with the cold. “Suppose we go down and ask.”

Ben circled the Louise into the warmer air of the valley on the other side of the summit, and then moved slowly to the west.

As he did so, the strange aeroplane leaped into the air and darted off to the south. She seemed to be a speedy machine, for she swept away from the Louise with wonderful ease.

“You just wait till I get turned around and get the motors on,” Ben muttered, “and I’ll show you that we can go some!”

The stranger was some distance in the lead before the Louise was well under way. After that it seemed to the boys that they gained, although very slowly. The machines both kept as low down as possible and ran to the full power of their motors.

The rush of wind and the clatter of the motors effectually checked verbal communication, but Jimmie pointed significantly to the machine ahead and then nodded determinedly.

“Let her go,” muttered Jimmie under his breath. “We had a race something like this in Old Mexico, and the other machine brought up in the Pacific ocean. That was a race that ought to have been written up!”

In the meantime, those watching from the camp saw the strange aeroplane dart swiftly over the ridge and head into the succession of valleys running to the west of the range. A few moments later she was followed by the Louise.

“I’d like to know what those crazy boys are doing!” exclaimed Mr. Havens, rather impatiently.

“They’re trying to catch that machine!” laughed Carl.

“But why should they take the chance of an accident by running at such speed in the night-time?” asked the millionaire. “There are holes in the air just as there are holes in the surface of the earth, and the first thing they know they’ll drop down about a thousand feet and tip over! It’s a risky proposition!”

“That’s what it is!” returned Carl shaking his head gravely. “It’s a risky proposition, and if you say the word I’ll jump on the Ann and go and tell them to come back!”

The aviator laughed at the innocent manner of the boy, and the Englishman regarded the two with a stare of wonder.

“I never saw anything like it, don’t you know!” the latter said.

“You’re likely to see something like it several times before you get out of the mountains!” laughed Carl. “Say, Mr. Havens,” the boy went on, “we don’t want that strange machine to come here and beat us in a race, do we? I don’t think the Louise is making much of a show, and so, if you don’t mind, I’ll take out the Ann and run ’em both down. It would be a lovely race!”

“I wouldn’t mind going with the lad, don’t you know!” exclaimed DuBois showing great excitement.

“If you do go,” replied Mr. Havens, “you’ll get fined a year’s salary if you don’t catch both machines!”

“Oh, I’ll catch ’em all right!” Carl exclaimed. “The Ann can run around both those old ice wagons, and then have plenty of time to spare!”

“The Ann can beat any aeroplane that was ever built!” replied Mr. Havens. “She was built for a record-breaker.”

To tell the truth, the aviator was not exactly pleased at the idea of remaining alone in the camp while the two engaged in the race, but the sporting strain was strong in the man’s blood, and he was proud of his matchless machine, so he consented, principally because he wanted the Ann to win in a race which promised to be a hot one!

“I wish the other machines would keep in sight so I could watch the struggle,” he said as Carl sprang toward the Ann.

“Do you know,” the Englishman observed, “I rather like the spirit of the lad!”

“He’s all right,” replied the millionaire. “But,” he added, “I didn’t think you had the courage to get into such a game.”

“To tell you the truth,” DuBois replied, “I was tolerably well frightened during my ride here, but I think I can now trust myself in any place that lad is willing to go.”

Mr. Havens saw the Ann rise swiftly into the air; rise to a height which must have chilled the blood of those on board, and then flash off to the south. The two aeroplanes were still in view although their lights showed dimly.

From his position in the tent the aviator could not determine whether or not the Louise was gaining. He saw that the great light of the Ann was rapidly closing the gap between the nearest lamp and herself, and had no doubt of the outcome of the race.

While he gazed one of the lights ahead dropped. Without knowing which machine had fallen, he crept to a corner of the tent on his hands and knees and brought out a night glass.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE END OF THE FLIGHT

When the Ann rose above the valley Carl saw the Louise some distance to the south. The strange machine was still in the lead, but the boys appeared to be gaining on her. Both were going fast.

The sky was now tolerably clear, although a brisk wind driving in from the west was bringing fleecy clouds from the Pacific coast. There would be a moon sometime between midnight and morning, but the prospects were that there would be a bank of driving clouds stretched over the earth before she showed herself.

The Englishman, unfamiliar with aeroplaning, began asking questions of the boy as soon as they were in the air, but, as the racing of the motors and the rush of the air drowned his voice, he soon lapsed into silence and contented himself with such views of the distant summit as he could secure. Several times he flung out an arm—including the shining stars, the drifting clouds, the wide stretch of mountain and valley in the sweep of it—and Carl understood that he was saying in the only language available there how much he loved the wild beauty and the majesty of it all.

After a time the strange aeroplane began to seek the higher levels. She climbed up, up, up until the summit showed white and sparkling under her flying planes.

Carl saw the Louise following the stranger into the snow zone and wondered at it. To the boy it seemed that the distance traveled upward might better be gained in level flight. Every unnecessary foot of altitude seemed to him to be a foot lost in the race.

“Ben doesn’t have to follow the stranger in the air,” he mused as he shot the Ann ahead on the same level he had been traveling. “All he has to do in order to overtake her is to keep her in sight and go faster than she does. He lost several yards by following her up to the summit.”

After a time the stranger changed her tactics turning to the west and seeking the valley again. The Louise followed in her wake as before and seemed to be gaining. The Ann was traveling much faster than either of the others and would soon be within striking distance.

That was a mad race under the stars. The stranger seemed to develop new speed possibilities as she swept along. The Louise appeared to be losing ground. The Ann swept forward relentlessly and was soon close to the rear machine.

Then a remarkable thing happened. The aeroplane in advance dropped like a plummet. It seemed to Carl, watching her light eagerly from his seat on the Ann, that she ceased her forward motion and lost her buoyancy at the same moment. He could not, of course, see the bulk of the machine but he could see her light.

The light seemed to be down to the surface of the earth in a minute. The Louise, following on, dropped, too. To the watching boy the falling of the two aeroplanes seemed as if they had dropped over a precipice.

Although not a very old or experienced aviator, Carl sensed what had taken place. The machines had dropped into a hole in the air! As is well-known to those conversant with the navigation of the air, there are actually “holes” in the atmosphere—holes into which machines drop as they would drop into a pit on the surface of the earth. There are also cross currents which tug at the planes in a wholly unaccountable manner.

These holes in the air result, of course, from conditions of temperature. They are dreaded by all aviators, and one of the first things taught in schools of aviation is to keep such control of his machine as will enable him to handle her successfully when such pitfalls and cross currents are encountered.

Carl had learned this lesson well under the tuition of Mr. Havens, and his first act when the Louise fell was to shift the Ann far away to the north of the place of descent.

He dropped down, too, in a moment in order to see what had happened to the other machines. The stranger lay a wreck in a rocky valley below and the Louise, some distance in the rear, was fluttering down. It seemed to Carl that some of her guy wires had been broken during the strain of the fall, and that she was almost beyond control of his chum.

Circling about the wrecked machine and the one which appeared to be in danger of being wrecked, Carl dropped lower and lower until at last his light disclosed a level bank at the side of a stream where he believed a landing might be effected.

By this time the Louise lay on the ground. He could not tell whether she had fallen with a crash or had gradually settled down. However, her lights were still burning, and he could see one of the boys moving about. The lights of the other machine were out.

The Ann came very near tipping over into the stream as Carl landed and a growth of bushes at the water’s edge scraped the ends of the planes cruelly as she settled down. Without stopping to inspect any damage that might have been done to the aeroplane, Carl dashed over to the Louise.

The boys were at that moment leaving their machine, turning their footsteps in the direction of the stranger. It was quite dark in the valley, as the timber line extended far up on the easy slope, and the boys were using their electrics as they moved along.

“Are you boys all right?” asked Carl, as he came panting to their side. “I thought I heard one of you groaning!”

“We’re all right!” exclaimed Jimmie. “The Louise strained her guy wires when we struck that hole in the air, but we managed to flutter down. Except for the broken guy wires the machine is as good as ever she was. We can fix the guy wires right here!”

“But the other machine fell!” Ben added. “When she went into the hole the driver wasn’t attending to his business, so she twisted sideways and turned turtle a hundred feet from the ground. We’re going over there now to see if the man is dead.”

“This ends my after-dark journeys in the air!” declared Carl.

“There’s no sense in it!” added Ben.

DuBois, the Englishman, now came stumbling through the darkness and paused in the circle of light made by the electrics. He was still shivering with cold, although the Ann had not mounted to a high level.

“What’s the bloody trouble?” he asked.

“You’re right about the trouble being a bloody one!” Jimmie replied. “The man we were chasing wrecked his machine.”

DuBois looked the Louise over critically.

“This one fell, too, don’t you know,” he said.

“Oh, we always come down like that!” declared Jimmie.

The Englishman stood leaning against the Louise when the boys left for the wrecked machine. It was all new to him, but he seemed to be taking in the situation slowly.

When the boys reached the wreck the aviator who had driven the machine lay on the ground, a dozen or more feet away from the seat he had occupied. He appeared to be quite dead. The body had the appearance of having fallen free of the machine some distance up in the air and crushed down upon the soft grass of the valley.

Ben stooped over the still figure for a moment and then turned to his chums with a queer look on his face.

“Do you remember the heavy man in brown who stood in the corridor at the door of Colleton’s room?” he asked.

“We certainly do!” answered Jimmie. “I’ve been thinking about that husky man in brown ever since Mr. Havens told us the story.”

“What brings that to your mind now?” asked Carl.

“Look at this body!” answered Ben. “Look at the heavily-bearded face. Look at the brown suit. Look at the refined and yet business-like makeup of the man. Even in death he seems domineering and forceful.”

“That man was no aviator!” Jimmie exclaimed.

“His handling of the machine showed that!” Carl put in.

“And do you think?” asked Jimmie in a moment, “that–”

The boy was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the Englishman, who came out of the darkness with his hands pushed far into his pockets and his teeth rattling with the cold. The boys stepped aside as he drew near the body on the ground and waited for him to speak.

“Don’t you remember,” Jimmie whispered to Ben, “that DuBois bought that hand-bag of a porter on the Pullman-car which carried a sick man in a private stateroom across the continent?”

“What’s that got to do with it?” demanded Carl.

“Wait a moment!” advised Jimmie. “Watch the Englishman’s face to see if he recognizes the dead man.”

“Is this another page out of your dream-book?” asked Carl.

“How do we know” demanded Jimmie impatiently, “that DuBois didn’t see a score of times on that trip the man who occupied the stateroom with the man who was sick?”

“Oh, I see!” Carl said. “You think this man lying here dead is the man who stood at the corridor door that day?”

“I didn’t say so!” whispered Jimmie. “I said to watch for some sign of recognition in the Englishman’s face.”

The Englishman bent over the dead man, searching outline of face and figure under the dim light of the stars. The boys heard a little exclamation of impatience, and then DuBois motioned to Ben to advance his searchlight so as to bring the dead face under its rays.

Ben did so immediately and the Englishman stood for what seemed to be a long time looking downward with a puzzled face. He brought his hand to his brow several times as if seeking to urge his slow brain into action and finally turned away without saying a word.

“That was a bad fall!” Ben said, seeking to engage the Englishman in conversation. “We came near lying where he does this minute.”

“A bad fall!” repeated the Englishman. “Do you know who the man is?”

“Never saw him before to-night!” replied Ben.

“You might look in his pockets, don’t you know!” suggested DuBois.

“That’s a good suggestion!” cried Jimmie who had been listening to the conversation. “I’ll see what I can find right now, if you’ll hold the light, Carl,” he added.

Carl advanced with the light and a thorough search was made of the dead man’s clothing. The pockets were entirely empty save for a watch, a pocket-knife, a fountain pen and a collapsible tube of adhesive material. The underclothing, shirt, collar and cuffs were new and bore no name or laundry mark. The collar of the coat bore the trade mark of a well-known firm of manufacturers dealing only in ready-to-wear clothing. On the inside of the right sleeve was the union label of the garment workers. The serial number of the label was blurred and could not be read.

Ben opened the watch case eagerly but found no initials on the inside. There was nothing whatever about the man to give information as to his name, occupation, or place of residence. That he had been a business man and not a professional aviator was clear to the boys but their information went no farther.

The Englishman stood by while the articles taken from the dead man accumulated on the grass but said nothing. Now and then he stepped closer and looked down into the white face.

“Don’t you know,” he said presently, “I think I’ve seen that man before!”

Jimmie nudged Carl impulsively but said nothing.

“You might have seen him in Washington,” suggested Ben.

“No,” answered the Englishman. “The man is not associated in my mind with anything that took place in your capital city.”

“On the boat coming over?” suggested Carl with a wink at Jimmie.

“No-o,” hesitated the Englishman. “I can’t associate that face with anything on board the steamer. It might have been on the train coming across the continent,” he went on in a musing tone. “It might have been in the Pullman on the way over.”

“If your recollection is so indistinct,” Jimmie put in, “it must be because you didn’t see much of him on the train. Perhaps he remained in his stateroom most of the time.”

“That’s clever of you, don’t you know!” the Englishman drawled. “Your suggestion of the stateroom brings it all back. This dead man, don’t you know, often passed in and out of the stateroom door and we noticed his goings and comings because he never permitted any one to see inside the door, don’t you know.”

“Did the man lose anything on the train?” asked Jimmie.

“Yes, he told the porter he had lost his bag.”

CHAPTER XV.

THE MAN IN THE STATEROOM

“Did he make much of a row about it?” asked Jimmie.

“No,” was the answer, “because the porter convinced him that it had accidentally fallen from the vestibule during a short stop in one of the passes. The fellow seemed glad to know that it was gone!”

“How could it get lost from the vestibule?”

“The fellow admitted leaving it somewhere outside the stateroom after taking it to the toilet with him.”

“Did it ever occur to you,” asked Jimmie, “that you bought the hand-bag the porter stole from the man lying here dead?”

“That’s a queer suggestion, don’t you know!” said the Englishman.

“Well, how did the porter come to have the bag to sell if he hadn’t picked it up somewhere on the train?”

“That’s a clever question!” asserted the Englishman. “But look here,” he went on, “why should a man like this one have a false shirt front and a false beard in his luggage?”

“I think I could tell you why if I tried very hard,” answered Jimmie, “but we’d better pass that up for the present.”

“Yes,” Ben said, “I think we’d better give this man decent burial, repair the Louise as far as possible, and start back to camp.”

“I don’t see how we’re going to open a grave,” Carl said.

“We can make a shallow one, I guess,” Ben answered, “and then use plenty of stones for covering. Of course we’ll notify the mounted police as soon as we get to a station, and they will undoubtedly take the body out. Somewhere, undoubtedly, this man had relatives and friends, and they ought to know the manner of his death.”

It was not very difficult making a shallow grave in the soft soil, although the boys had no suitable tools to work with. When at last the body was wrapped in a canvas shroud, composed of material taken from the planes of the wrecked machine, and laid into the grave it was covered to a considerable height with heavy rocks taken from the slope.

This task completed, the boys took guy wires from the now useless aeroplane and repaired the breakage on the Louise. The tanks of the Louise being about half empty, the gasoline was drawn from the disabled motors of the wreck and added to the supply.

“It seems lonesome, don’t you know,” the Englishman said, as he took his seat on the Ann, “to go away and leave that poor fellow all alone in the valley, with no companionship save that of the stars and the wind!”

“It gives me a shiver to think of it!” declared Ben.

“Well,” Jimmie said in a tone far more serious than was usual with the boy, “every step he has taken since his birth has tended to this place. A million years ago, it was decreed that he should lie here, and that’s all there is of it!”

“Quite true, quite true!” agreed the Englishman.

“Aw, you can’t make me believe a man’s life is mapped out for him like that!” declared Carl. “I guess a fellow has some show!”

When the boys reached the camp the eastern sky was ruddy with the approach of sunrise, and Mr. Havens sat well wrapped in blankets before the fire. His face was pale and showed suffering.

“I thought you’d never come back!” he said. “I saw one of the machines drop, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell which one it was.”

“Two of them dropped,” Ben explained, and in a short time the story of the adventures of the night was told.

“It seems wonderful,” Mr. Havens said, “that we should drop into a region, almost by accident, whither so many things connected with the Kuro case were tending. When the Englishman brought the bag, I thought that the most remarkable occurrence in the world. But now the man who stood in the corridor at Colleton’s door seems to lie over yonder in the valley. It seems like a chapter out of a fairy book!”

“Why, it’s all simple enough!” Jimmie argued. “In fact, it’s the most commonplace thing in the world. This big man stripped Colleton of his disguise in the stateroom and put the articles into the bag, intending to throw it off the train the first time he got a chance. He set the bag out into the corridor or the vestibule so it would be handy when the right time came and the porter stole it.”

“Is this a new edition of the dream-book?” asked Carl.

“Then DuBois lost his hand-bag, and asked the porter to provide him one. For all we know the man just killed may have stolen the Englishman’s bag for his own use. Anyway the porter brought DuBois the bag he stole from the man who has just been killed.”

“Go on!” advised Ben with a grin.

“The porter neglected to remove the contents of the bag, and so the articles used in the disguise of Colleton come into the possession of the purchaser. The Englishman sets out on a hunting trip in the Rocky mountains, strays away from his companions, and turns up at the smugglers’ place with the bag in his hands.”

“You’re only relating the obvious now,” Ben criticised.

“And then,” Jimmie went on, “the big man brings Colleton into some hiding-place in the mountains, using an aeroplane as a means of communication with the cities. His machine is spied by boys who think their own machines can go some and the race follows. The big man drops his aeroplane into a hole in the air and is killed. The Englishman who bought the stolen bag, recognizes him as the man in charge of the sick man in the stateroom. Now, if that isn’t all perfectly simple, I don’t know what is!”

“You take it for granted that Colleton is hidden in this vicinity, then?” asked Ben.

“If he wasn’t, the big man wouldn’t have shown up here!”

“When the big man came in and landed his aeroplane on the other side of the ridge,” Ben suggested, “he brought two men with him. When we went up in the Louise we saw two men walking about the ledge with lanterns in their hands.”

“One of them may be Colleton!” shouted Carl.

“I don’t know about that,” Jimmie went on, “but I’ll tell you there’s some connection between the bunch that stole Colleton and the bunch the Canadian officers arrested for smuggling whiskey over the Canadian border. I don’t believe the red and green signals we saw night before last were entirely for the benefit of the smugglers. I’ll bet the big man who was killed because he didn’t know how to bring a machine out of an air-hole knew the language of those red and green lights!”

Mr. Havens was assisted back to his tent, and the boys busied themselves getting breakfast. The Englishman wandered about the camp for a long time without speaking. It seemed to the boys that he was studying over the events of the night.