The Flying Machine Boys on Secret Service

Jimmie even suggested to Carl that the Englishman might be searching his memory for some incident connected with the journey across the continent which would place him in the possession of additional information concerning the man who had been killed.

When breakfast was ready, the Englishman took his seat by the white cloth spread on the grass but ate sparingly.

“Have you lost your appetite?” asked Carl.

“That was quite a shock, don’t you know!” was the answer.

“Are you sure the man we buried is the man who occupied the stateroom on the Pullman-car with the sick man?” asked Ben.

“Quite sure!” was the slow reply.

“Did you notice him talking with any one in the car?” asked Jimmie.

“Indeed he was quite intimate with one of the travelers,” the Englishman replied. “They went to the smoking room together and played cards frequently. They were quite chummy, don’t you know.”

“Would you know this second man if you saw him again?”

“Why, of course,” answered the Englishman. “This second man, Neil Howell, is the gentleman who formed the hunting party I joined at San Francisco. He was quite anxious for me to go with him, don’t you know.”

“When did you leave your party?” asked Ben.

“Early yesterday morning,” was the reply. “I wandered about in the mountains until I came to the camp-fire where I was found.”

“Could you make your way to your camp now?” asked Jimmie.

The Englishman shook his head.

“It is in some of the wrinkles of the mountains,” he said, “but I couldn’t even make up my mind which way to set out if I started to find it.”

“Your sense of direction must be deficient!” suggested Carl.

“It must be!” was the answer. “You see,” he went on, “I wandered around this way and that, so long that I couldn’t tell whether my camp was east, west, north or south. During the last few hours of my wandering I was half dazed with hunger and fatigue, so there is little hope of my being able to locate the camp of my friends.”

“Well, we can find it all right!” Jimmie declared. “I can take you up in the machine after we get done breakfast, and after we get last night’s kinks out of our systems, and we can find your camp if it’s anywhere within a thousand miles.”

The Englishman appeared thoughtful for some moments before making any reply. Jimmie nudged Carl and whispered:

“Look here, Cully, I don’t believe he wants to find that camp again! I don’t believe he wants to go back!”

“Yes,” returned Carl, “the quiet, peaceful, uneventful life we are leading seems to appeal to him!”

“We may be able to find the camp,” the Englishman said after a pause, “but really, you know,” he went on, “I wouldn’t want to take another ride in the air to-day!”

“Oh, we can go to-morrow just as well,” laughed Jimmie.

After breakfast the boys advised the Englishman to spend most of the day in sleep. They had had another hard night, and were in need of rest themselves. It was a warm, sunny day, and the lads, well wrapped in blankets, slept until almost noon. After they awoke and prepared dinner, Mr. Havens noticed Carl and Jimmie looking longingly in the direction of the machines.

“What’s on now, boys?” he asked.

“I want to find the answers to two questions,” Jimmie replied.

“Where are the answers?” asked the aviator.

“In the air,” grinned the boy.

“What are the questions?” continued Mr. Havens.

“The first one is this: Who are the men the dead man brought in with him last night?”

“And the other one?”

“Where is the Englishman’s camp?”

“Two very pertinent questions!” suggested Mr. Havens.

“There’s another question,” Jimmie continued, “that I want the answer to, but I don’t see how I’m going to get it right away.”

“Perhaps I can answer it!”

“I’ll give you a try at it,” Jimmie laughed.

“Well, what is it?”

“Did the Englishman accidentally lose his camp or did he lose it on purpose? Can you answer that question?”

“I’ve been watching the Englishman for some time,” the aviator replied, “and I think I can give you the answer. He left it on purpose!”

“I noticed,” Jimmie said, “that he didn’t seem very anxious about my helping him find it!”

“Well, whether he wants to find it or not,” Mr. Havens continued, “I must insist on you boys locating it!”

“You want to know about this man Neil Howell!” laughed Jimmie. “Perhaps you have a notion that by finding him we can get track of the dead man’s associates. You want to know why he induced DuBois to make the mountain trip. In fact, there’s a whole lot of things you want to know about Neil Howell.”

“That’s just the idea,” Mr. Havens replied. “I’m certain that DuBois left the camp voluntarily. There might have been a quarrel, for all I know. I half believe, also,” he continued, “that the Englishman knew what the bag contained when he left camp with it.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jimmie replied, “but I do know that a man going out for a walk in the mountains wouldn’t be apt to carry a hand-bag with him if he intended to return.”

CHAPTER XVI.

STILL ANOTHER GUEST

“You bet he wouldn’t!” declared Carl, who had come into the tent during the progress of the conversation. “He’d be more apt to carry a gun! What did he want to lug his toilet articles away for?”

“Perhaps he wanted to get that bag out of camp!” suggested Jimmie.

“What’s the answer to that?” asked Carl.

“Suppose this Neil Howell recognized that bag as one formerly owned by the man he played cards with?”

“That’s another dream!” Carl laughed.

“Anyhow,” Jimmie said, “I’m going up in the Louise and find that camp!”

“And I’m going with you,” Carl grinned.

“Can’t I go anywhere without one of you boys tagging along?” demanded Jimmie in mock anger.

“It’s a shame for you to say such things!” declared Carl. “After the number of times we’ve saved your life!”

“All right!” laughed Jimmie. “Come along if you want to!”

“If I were you,” Mr. Havens advised, “I wouldn’t try to land near the camp if you succeed in locating it. The song of the motors can be heard a long way off, you know, and the campers will be sure to know that an aeroplane is in the vicinity.”

“That’s a good idea!” Carl agreed. “We ought to find the camp and sail over it, and around it, and then duck away as if we belong out on the Pacific coast somewhere. Then we can go back on foot, if it isn’t too far away, and see what sort of a crowd the Englishman traveled with.”

“That’s my idea of the situation,” Mr. Havens said.

“And we ought not to say anything to the Englishman about where we’re going!” Jimmie suggested. “Because he’ll be eager to know what we find out, and may decide not to remain with us at all after we discover why he left his companions.”

“We don’t know that he hasn’t told the absolute truth about his departure from camp,” Mr. Havens suggested, “but it will do no harm to work on the theory that a man merely in quest of mountain adventure would not leave his camp carrying a hand-bag. As Carl says, he’d be more likely to carry a gun!”

Ben came into the tent and stood listening to the conversation. He agreed with the others that there was something queer about the Englishman’s sudden appearance with the hand-bag, but said that the fellow had really possessed a gun when he reached the fire where he had been found.

“He told me,” Ben went on, “that Crooked Terry had taken his gun and other articles, including his money, from his person.”

“Why didn’t you snatch Crooked Terry bald-headed and make him give ’em up?” asked Jimmie.

“Because DuBois didn’t tell me about his being robbed until after we had left the crook asleep in the cavern. I think, by the way,” Ben continued, “that I’d better go up to the smugglers’ den to-day and see what I can learn regarding those two men.”

“Is this a conspiracy to leave me all alone in the camp again?” asked Mr. Havens. “I’m getting about enough of solitude.”

“Why, there’s the Englishman,” suggested Jimmie.

“Don’t you ever think he won’t want to go, too,” Ben laughed. “He’s the craziest man about flying machines I ever saw.”

“But early this morning,” Jimmie argued, “he said that he didn’t care about going into the sky again to-day.”

“Perhaps that’s because you suggested hunting up his camp,” laughed Ben. “Somehow he don’t seem to want to find that camp.”

“Suppose,” suggested Mr. Havens, “you boys go in relays. Let Jimmie and Carl go and look up the camp first, and after they return Ben and DuBois can visit the smugglers’ camp.”

“That’s all right,” Ben exclaimed. “I’ll remain here until Jimmie and Carl return, if they’re not gone too long!”

“Did you see anything of intruders while we were gone?” asked Jimmie turning to Mr. Havens.

“Why,” replied the aviator, “I did see a man looking toward the camp from the valley to the north, but no attempt to molest me was made.”

“So that’s why you don’t want to be left alone!” laughed Jimmie. “You think perhaps those fellows are hanging around here yet!”

“They may be, at that!” Carl suggested.

“We have the faculty of getting into a storm center,” Jimmie complained. “We get a collection of humanity around every camp we make! If we should go and make a camp on top of the Woolworth building, in little old New York, people would be making a hop-skip-and-jump from the sidewalk and inviting themselves to dinner!”

“Well, go on out and stir up another mess of visitors,” laughed Mr. Havens. “And when you find this camp,” he added, “don’t land anywhere near it and try to creep in on the campers. All you’ve got to do is to come back and tell us where it is!”

“All right!” laughed Jimmie. “I’ll make a map of the country so any one can find it.”

The two boys were soon away in the Louise, and then Ben and the Englishman went to Mr. Havens’ tent to further talk over the situation. The millionaire was very much inclined to ask the Englishman just why he had left his camp, but finally decided not to do so.

DuBois was very thoughtful and not inclined to join in the conversation. More than once they saw him step to the flap of the tent and look out over the valley. On such occasions he seemed nervous and anxious.

“Are you expecting company?” Ben asked after one of these visits.

“I heard some talk about people watching the camp, don’t you know,” the Englishman replied, “and it rawther got on me mind!”

“There won’t any one come here in the daytime,” Ben urged.

“Did you see the faces of the men who came this morning?” asked the boy turning to Mr. Havens.

“I didn’t say that I saw men,” smiled the aviator. “I said that I thought I saw a man looking toward the camp.”

“Did you see his face?” insisted the Englishman.

“I did not!” was the reply.

“Can you describe him in any way?”

“I’m afraid not!”

The Englishman walked to the flap of the tent again and looked out.

“For instance,” he said looking back into the tent, “was the general appearance of the fellow anything like the general appearance of the man who is approaching the fire from the other side?”

The aviator gave a quick start of surprise and Ben sprang to his feet and walked out to the fire, closely followed by the Englishman. The man approaching from the south was evidently not a mountaineer. He was remarkably well-dressed, although his garments showed contact with mountain thickets, and his walk was unsteady and like that of one unfamiliar with rough ground. He wore a derby hat, a silk tie, and a gold watch-chain traversed his vest from left to right. He was, in fact, about the cut of a man one would expect to meet in the business district of New York.

Instead of watching the visitor, Ben turned his eyes toward the Englishman, determined to see if any signs of recognition showed on the face of the latter. His first impression was that this man had in some way found his way there from the camp which the Englishman had deserted.

DuBois’ face expressed only curiosity and surprise as the visitor came closer to the fire. Ben turned to the newcomer.

“Good-afternoon!” he said.

“Same to you!” replied the other. “You can’t understand,” he added with a faint smile, “how glad I am to see once more a face that reminds me of civilization.”

“That’s me!” laughed Ben winking at the Englishman.

“That’s both of you, and the man in the tent, too!” laughed the other. “I’ve been wandering around this everlasting, eternal, Providence-forsaken valley for three or four days, living on ground squirrels and seeking to become intoxicated on river water.”

“Did you lose your camp, too?” asked Ben with a chuckle.

“I never had any camp in this country!” was the reply. “I came in by way of Crow’s Nest, with a pack of provisions on my back, looking for land worth squatting on. I ate my provisions the first week, lost my way the second, and traveled on my nerve the third.”

“Did it make good going?” asked Ben with a grin.

“Fairly good!” was the reply. “You see,” he went on, “I had a couple of automatic guns and plenty of cartridges, so I’d shoot red ground squirrels when ever I got hungry and build a fire in among the tall trees and cook ’em. Then I’d go to sleep by the fire and wake up that night, or the next morning, or the day after the next morning, or any old time. And that’s the kind of an existence I’ve been having.”

“That’s the wild, free life, all right!” Ben agreed.

“I’ve been chased by bears, and kept awake at night by lynxes, and wolverines, until it seems to me as if I had butted into the Central Park Zoo! And right this minute,” he added, looking around the camp with wistful eyes, “I’m about as hungry as a human being can be and stand on his feet. I haven’t had a drop of coffee for a month!”

“I was waiting for that!” Ben grinned as he moved toward the coffee-pot and provision box. “Everybody that comes here is hungry! I’ve got so I make a break for the coffee-pot and the grub the minute I see a stranger approaching.”

“I’m glad you’ve got the habit,” laughed the other. “I’ve butted into camps in this country before now where a man wasn’t welcome to take a second breath out of the atmosphere!”

“Recently?” asked Ben.

“Why, only three or four days ago,” the stranger answered, “I struck a camp where they had tons and tons of provisions, and they wouldn’t give me the second meal! Yes, sir, they fired me out after I’d had a few egg sandwiches and a cup of coffee substitute.”

“How long ago was this?” asked Ben, glancing quietly at the Englishman.

“Three or four days ago!” was the answer. “I’ve been traveling nights to keep warm, and to keep out of the clutches of the wild animals, and sleeping days so long that I’ve lost all track of time. It may have been three days ago and it may have been four days ago.”

“Can you give me the direction of this camp?” asked the Englishman. “I’d like to know something about the fellows there, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I don’t know which way it is from here. I couldn’t find it if I wanted to, and I’ll give you a straight tip right now that I don’t want to! Just for company’s sake, understand, I tried to get a night’s sleep within sight of their camp-fire. I rolled myself in a blanket and was just dreaming that I was eating a porterhouse steak at Sherry’s, when the midnight concert at the camp began. I guess they were all good and drunk before morning.”

“Do you know,” began the Englishman, “that I half believe that you found the camp I belonged in!”

“If you were in the camp when I tried to sleep near it,” the stranger went on, “you probably got a good souse before morning.”

The Englishman turned away to the tent, and Ben busied himself in preparing dinner for the stranger who gave his name as Martin Sprague.

“I see,” Sprague went on, while the dinner cooked, “that you boys have a couple of fine flying machines. Was that your machine that lit out over the valley a short time ago? When I saw that machine, I said there must be a camp in this side of the valley, so I followed my nose and here I am.”

After a time, Ben placed a substantial meal before Sprague and then, to an answer to a gesture from the Englishman, hastened back to the tent.

“Do you know,” DuBois said, as the two stood together at the flap, “that fellow who just came in was with Neil Howell in San Francisco! I saw the two together there often. If he went to our camp, he found Neil Howell there, and he received no such treatment as he reports.”

“Then you think the fellow’s a fraud, do you?” asked Ben.

“I don’t know about that!” the Englishman replied, “but I do know that he is trying to deceive you, and my private opinion is that he came to this camp for a purpose, and with the consent of Neil Howell.”

CHAPTER XVII.

CARL GETS INTO TROUBLE

The sun shone warm on the planes of the Louise as Jimmie and Carl sailed over the broken country to the west of the camp. They passed a ridge so high that the timber line broke a couple of hundred feet below the summit, and then dropped, shivering, into a depression wider but not so green as the one in which their tents stood.

The boys were taking their time, and, in the low altitude of the valley, conversation was possible as they moved along, looking to right and left for some sign of a camp.

“The Englishman’s friends ought not to be much farther away,” suggested Carl, after an hour. “We are at least fifteen miles from our tents already.”

“Yes,” agreed Jimmie, “the ridge we crossed takes up a good deal of room. If they are not in this wrinkle, they may be in the next one.”

“Wrinkle is exactly the word,” Carl grinned. “This country looks as if some one had taken a level plain and crowded it together until the surface broke into seams and crags. It makes me think of the undulating surface of an old boot!”

The boys traversed the valley from north to south but saw no indications of tents or camp-fires. The ridge to the west ran out at the north end of the valley, and the boys turned there, preferring not to ascend into the cold air again unless it became necessary.

The valley in which they now found themselves ran in a northeasterly direction and broke into a canyon at the end farthest to the east and north. The boys turned as they swung around the point of rock and whirled along the new depression. Presently Carl caught his chum by the arm and handed him the field-glass with which he had been looking over the country. Jimmie used the glass for a moment and then turned back to Carl with a pleased look on his freckled face.

“You know what that is, don’t you?” he asked.

“Sure!” Carl answered.

“That’s the north end of our own valley, we see,” Jimmie went on, “and the shelf we have just come in sight of is the one from which the red and green signals were shown night before last.”

“That’s right!” grinned Carl.

“Then, don’t you see,” Jimmie went on, “the signals were made for the benefit of some one in this valley.”

“That’s the idea!” Carl chuckled.

“Now, suppose we find the tent the Englishman left in this vicinity,” the boy went on, “what would that mean?”

“It would suggest to me,” Carl replied, “that the signals were made for the benefit of some one in that camp.”

“Right-o!” replied Jimmie.

“But where is this blooming camp?” Carl asked.

“We’ll find it here somewhere!” Jimmie answered, confidently.

Directly the boys came to a canyon which opened at the west of the valley and led to a grassy plateau higher up. At some distant time the place now occupied by the plateau had doubtless been an enlargement and extension of the canyon. However, as the years passed, the rocks had crumbled under the action of water until the great dent had become filled.

One look to the left as the boys moved slowly past the mouth of the canyon was sufficient. A fire was blazing high in the center of the plateau and half a dozen tents were scattered about. On every side the walls of rock came down to the green grass which lay like a carpet over the floor of the plateau.

Here and there the boys saw dark openings in the walls, similar to the one they had observed at the smugglers’ camp.

“Those old rocks,” Jimmie commented, “are honeycombed with caves, and it’s a hundred to one that those hunters are obliged to keep things moving nights in order to drive away wild animals.”

“From all accounts,” Carl agreed, “wild animals don’t stand much show with that bunch!”

“Of course, they’ve seen us,” Jimmie observed as the aeroplane shot by the canyon and the tents were no longer in sight. “If they’re not asleep they know we’re here. Now, what’s the best thing to do?”

“Walk right along just like we never noticed them!” replied Carl.

“Perhaps,” Jimmie suggested, “they’re looking for an aeroplane to put in an appearance.”

“Do you mean to say that they knew something of the machine that was wrecked over to the south last night?”

“That’s what!” replied Jimmie.

“I don’t believe it!” Carl answered. “That supposition connects the San Francisco hunters with the Kuro gang, and I can’t believe that to be a fact!”

“How far do you suppose that canyon is from our camp?” asked Jimmie.

“Probably twenty miles!” suggested Carl.

“That’s a good guess,” Jimmie agreed. “Now, look here,” he went on, “if you think I’m going back to camp and leave the machine and then hike twenty miles to investigate that camp, you’ve got another think coming!”

“That’s what you promised to do!”

“Not on your life!” replied Jimmie. “That’s what Havens told me to do! But then, you know,” he added with a laugh, “Havens had no idea at the time he gave the advice that we’d find the camp so far away. He probably thought we’d run across it within easy walking distance of our own tents. Isn’t that the way you look at it?”

“Sure!” replied Carl, glad of any excuse for landing.

“Then, I’ll tell you what we’ll do!” Jimmie argued. “We’ll fly straight over the ridge under which the camp nestles, slow down gradually, so our motors will sound like they were getting farther away every moment, and then land. We ought to be able to climb back to the top of the ridge in a few minutes and look down into the camp.”

“Aw, what’s the good of just looking down into it?” demanded Carl. “We ought to get near enough so we can see and hear what’s going on!”

“I don’t care how near we get to it!” grinned Jimmie.

The plan suggested by the boy, reckless as it was, was carried out. The Louise found a resting-place to the west of the ridge and the boys sat down to consider future movements.

“Honest, now,” Jimmie said, looking up at the fairly easy slope which led to the summit lying between the aeroplane and the camp, “one of us ought to stay by the machine!”

“All right!” Carl agreed. “You remain here and I’ll hike down and see what I can find out. But, look here,” the lad continued, “you mustn’t go prowling around! You mustn’t leave the machine! I may come back on the jump, and want to get into the air in about a quarter of a second!”

“Huh!” grinned Jimmie. “You went off and left the machine when you were on guard near the smugglers’ camp. I wouldn’t talk about prowling around, if I were you!”

“This is different!” urged Carl. “When I left the machine then I didn’t know that there were a lot of mountain brigands ready to grab it.”

“All right!” Jimmie acquiesced. “I’ll stay here by the machine for an hour. If you don’t come back by that time, I’ll come after you.”

“Yes, you’ll come after me!” cried Carl. “You’d better stay where you are! How would you know where to look for me in that mess over on the other side?”

“If you don’t come back in an hour,” repeated Jimmie, “I’ll come after you! In an hour it will be time to leave for home.”

Carl went away up the slope, climbing swiftly, and soon disappeared from view. Jimmie threw himself down on the ground close to the framework of the Louise, in a measure protected from view by the planes.

“Gee!” mused the boy. “It’s lonesome, waiting like this. Next time we go out on a scouting expedition, we’ll bring some one along to stand guard. This waiting makes me tired.”

But the period of waiting was destined to be a short one. Hardly had Carl disappeared over the summit of the ridge when three figures appeared there, sharply outlined against the sky. Jimmie crawled closer under the planes and lay perfectly still for some moments.