The Flying Boys in the Sky

“Let us go into the house,” said Harvey, taking each child by the hand and walking toward the dumpy woman who still filled the door of the cabin, staring as if she failed to understand what had taken place.

“Good morning,” saluted Harvey; “if you don’t mind we will go inside and sit down for a little while.”

“I’m sure you’re welcome,” replied the housewife, stepping back to give room. “It seems to me there’s been queer goings on around here. What made that awful noise I heerd a little while ago?”

“A friend of mine blew up the shanty where several villains were holding this little girl a prisoner.”

“La sakes! You don’t say so; did you ever hear of sich carryings on?”

She stood with her arms akimbo and stared at her caller, who had seated himself near the open door, where he could see his aeroplane and whatever might appear in the clearing. Grace and Peggy sat farther back, whispering and chuckling together, as new acquaintances do who have no idea of the fearful meaning of what is going on around them.

“Where is Uncle Tommy?” asked Harvey of the wife.

“He went to town two hours ago. You know,” she added with natural pride, “that all the folks depends on him to know what kind of weather we’re going to have, and he’s gone to Chesterton to tell ’em.”

“I have heard of his reputation as a weather prophet.”

At this juncture, Grace rose abruptly from her chair and asked Harvey:

“How long have I been here?”

“Not knowing when you came I can’t tell exactly, Grace, but I am sure it is only a short time.”

“I promised Alessandro I wouldn’t stay long and I must be going.”

“Wait a little while; he won’t care – .”

“There he comes for me now! He will be angry and beat me,” she exclaimed, standing beside her young friend and looking out of the door in a tremor of alarm.

Sure enough, the miscreant had come into plain sight. He was walking with bowed head and his hands behind him, as if the wrists were fastened together, and only one or two paces to the rear strode Detective Simmons Pendar, with a revolver ready for instant use. The picture told its own story.

“Stay where you are,” said Harvey, laying a gentle hand on the shoulder of Grace Hastings; “Alessandro sha’n’t hurt you.”

With this assurance, the youth went down the few steps and advanced to meet his friend.

“I don’t admire his looks,” he remarked with a smile as he glanced at the swarthy, scowling face.

“He’s as ugly as he looks,” replied the detective.

“Is he the only one?”

“Professor Morgan’s bomb sent one flying among the trees, where he will stay until carried away. And that is Grace Hastings?” said the officer, with a radiant face, as he looked at the winsome countenance in the doorway.

“She told me that that is her name, and I think she ought to know; but what do you mean to do with this fellow?”

“I have been thinking. You know there were three of them; I exchanged shots with Catozzi when we were starting with your aeroplane. I am anxious to capture him, but he was left at Chesterton, where he will probably wait till he receives more news.”

“You can march this one ahead of you to the town and have him locked up.”

The face of the detective became grave. He shook his head.

“I am afraid that if I do that, and the truth becomes known, as it surely will be, the people will lynch him.”

“Who cares if they do?” asked Harvey; “it will serve him right.”

“He and the others deserve it, but the law should deal with them. I have a better plan.”

CHAPTER XXXI

LYNCH LAW

During this brief conversation between Harvey Hamilton and Detective Pendar, the prisoner stood slightly to one side with his bare head bent and his face looking like that of some baffled imp of darkness. Not only had he lost his pistol and stiletto, but his hands were useless to him. The weapons seemed not to have been on his person at the moment of the explosion, for his captor had seen nothing of them. Pendar looked at the woman.

“Have you a clothesline?”

“Of course I have, and I need it too,” was the reply.

“Let me have it and I’ll pay you enough to buy three new ones.”

“That sounds sensible; what do you want to do with it?” asked Mrs. Waters, pleased with the chance of driving a good bargain.

“I wish to bind this scamp so fast that he will never be able to free himself.”

“‘Cording to what you tell me you oughter put it round his neck; I’ll give you all the help I can; yes, you can have the rope,” and she walked into the kitchen to bring the article, which, although knotted in several places, must have been fifty feet long.

“In there!” commanded the detective, motioning to Pierotti, who slouched through the door, the frightened little girl backing away and staring at him. Sullen, revengeful, but helpless, the Latin submitted to every indignity unresistingly. Pendar was an adept at such work and wound the rope in and out and around, again and again until every foot of it had been utilized, and the prisoner was bound so effectually that had he been one of the famous Davenport brothers he would have been unable to loosen his bonds.

“Now, Mrs. Waters,” said the officer when he had completed his work, “you needn’t have any fear of him.”

“Fear of him!” repeated the woman with a sniff; “do you think the like of him could scare me? Do you see that poker?” she asked, pointing to the iron rod with the curved end leaning against the wall of the fireplace; “if he dares so much as open his mouth to speak to me, I’ll break it over his head.”

“A sensible idea!” exclaimed Harvey Hamilton; “don’t forget it, and I hope he will give you an excuse for doing what you have in mind.”

Man and youth stepped outside, where the latter waited for his friend to make clear his intentions.

“The thing I am most anxious to do,” said the detective, “is to reach the nearest telegraph office as quickly as I can, that I may send a message to Horace Hastings and his wife with the news that will raise them from the depths of despair to perfect happiness.”

“It will take us only a few minutes to reach Chesterton with the aeroplane.”

“True, and we can carry the little girl with us. Besides, I sha’n’t be satisfied until I have the nippers on the one still at large. Let us be off, for you have no idea how eager I am to send the tidings to the parents of Grace.”

When the little one learned that she was about to be taken home to see her papa and mamma, she clapped her hands and danced with joy. She kissed Peggy good-bye, made the child promise to come and see her in her home in the distant city and then told Mr. Pendar she was ready.

Naturally she was timid when informed that she was to take a ride with the big bird, and she clung to her protector, who carefully adjusted himself with her in his lap. She promised not to stir or even speak while on the way. Harvey had headed his machine toward the longest stretch of open ground, and set the propeller revolving. Then he dashed forward, sprang into place and grasped the levers. The biplane was already moving at a rapidly accelerated pace over the withered grass, and at the proper point rose clear and sailed away to the eastward. The tiny passenger stared and tried to hold her breath when she realized that she was far above the treetops, but she gave not the slightest trouble to her friends.

The distance to Chesterton was so brief that it seemed our friends had hardly left the earth when they began coming down again. An easy landing was made in the open space in front of the hotel and Pendar lifted Grace out.

“Now you will go with me,” he said, grasping her hand and hurrying down the main street to the telegraph office, which was several blocks from the hotel. “Harvey, you will look after your machine and I shall soon rejoin you.”

It would be hard to describe the blissful joy with which the detective seized one of the yellow telegraph blanks and wrote these words, addressed to Horace Hastings:

“I have Grace with me, perfectly well and unharmed. She asks me to give her love to papa and mamma and to say that she is coming home just as quickly as she can. As I shall be needed here for some time yet, perhaps you would better come for her. One of the kidnappers is dead, one a prisoner, and I hope soon to have the third.”

“Pendar.”

Brief as was the absence of the detective from the hotel, the interval had been sufficient for a terrifying situation to develop. A larger crowd than usual gathered at sight of the little girl sitting on the lap of the man supposed to be a commercial traveler, and when the two hurried down the street, there were eager inquiries as to what it meant. An instinctive feeling of caution led Harvey to make evasive answers, for he feared to tell the truth to the excited crowd; but he could not falsify and was pressed so hard that he was literally forced to give the facts. The little girl, who had walked down the street with the supposed commercial traveler, was Grace Hastings, kidnapped some time before in Philadelphia, and the man who had her in charge was one of the most famous detectives in the country.

The story sounded so incredible that for a minute or two it was not believed. Every member of the group had read of the unspeakable crime, and their feelings were stirred to the depths. Parents especially were insistent that no punishment was too severe for the authors of the cruel wrong.

“And one of them was that fellow who fired his pistol at the detective when he was starting off with you in your flying machine?” demanded a red-faced listener.

Harvey nodded.

“He was; where is he now?”

“Yes; where is he?”

A dozen glanced in different directions. Could they have laid hands on the miscreant his life would not have been worth a moment’s purchase.

“I saw him hurrying down the street, right after the flying machine left,” explained a large boy on the edge of the crowd.

“Where was he going?” demanded the first speaker.

“I didn’t ask him and I don’t ’spose he’d told if I had.”

“But you’ve got one of ’em?” said another man to Harvey.

“Yes; one was killed by the explosion, but the other wasn’t hurt to any extent.”

“Where is he?”

“Safely bound in the house of Uncle Tommy Waters.”

Uncle Tommy was in the group, somewhat back, chewing hard and listening to the absorbing relation. He had not yet spoken, but did not allow a word to escape him. The instant the last remark was made, he stopped chewing, pushed nearer the young aviator and asked:

“Did you say he’s in my house?”

“Yes, bound fast in a chair and under the watchful eye of your wife.”

“Do you mean to tell me that consarned critter is a-settin’ in my parlor this minute and talking love to Betsey?” roared the wrathful Uncle Tommy, in a still higher voice.

“I don’t think he is trying to make love to your wife; if he does, she has the poker at hand and she told me she would use it if he gave her the least excuse.”

The weather prophet boiled over. Ignoring the youth who had given the infuriating news, he addressed the crowd:

“Do you hear that, folks? That limb of Satan is a-settin’ in my front parlor and Betsey hasn’t any one with her! It’s the most outrageous outrage that was ever outraged. Do you ’spose I’m goin’ to stand it?”

“What will you do about it?” asked a neighbor tauntingly.

“What will I do ’bout it? I’ll show him. He’s one of the varmints that stole that sweet innercent child. Let’s lynch him!”

The proposal struck fire on the instant. Nothing is so excitable as an American crowd, and an impetuous leader can do anything with it. A dozen voices shouted:

“That’s it! lynch him! lynch him! come on, boys! we’re together in this.”

The last words were uttered by a tall, middle-aged farmer without coat or vest. He had a clear, ringing voice, as if born to command. In a twinkling he was at the head of the swarm which was increasing in numbers every minute, with every one ardent to carry out the startling proposal first made by Uncle Tommy Waters.

Harvey Hamilton was alarmed. It has been shown that he had not a shadow of sympathy for the criminal, who was bound in the cabin of the weather prophet, but he knew the detective’s sentiments. He had left the prisoner behind in order to save him from the very fate that now threatened, and which had been precipitated by the truth the youth saw no way of holding back from them.

Standing beside his silent machine, Harvey shouted:

“You mustn’t do that! It is contrary to law; the courts will punish him; leave him to them!”

“Yes,” sneered the leader, halting long enough to exchange a few words; “he won’t be in jail more than three months when he’ll be pardoned or they’ll let him out on parole; it’ll cost money to convict him and we’ll save the State the expense.”

“You are mistaken; there is too much resentment over this Black Hand business to show any mercy to the criminals.”

“That’s what’s the matter with this crowd; come on, boys!”

The mob was moving off, when Detective Pendar, still holding the hand of Grace Hastings, came hurrying from the street to the front of the hotel. He read the meaning of what he heard and saw, and raised his hand for attention.

“I appreciate your feelings, my friends, but you mustn’t stain the fair name of Pennsylvania by such an illegal deed as you have in mind. The law will punish these men. Here is the little child, and you can see she has not been harmed in the least.”

It was an unfortunate appeal. The sight of the frightened girl and the knowledge that she was the victim of a most cruel wrong, roused the fury of the men to a white heat. The protesting detective was swept aside like chaff, and the whole party broke into a run for the home of Uncle Tommy Waters, with the weather prophet himself in the lead.

CHAPTER XXXII

MYSTERIES ARE EXPLAINED

If the wrathful Uncle Tommy Waters could have looked in upon his home at the time Harvey Hamilton was telling his story, he would have seen there was no ground for misgiving so far as the partner of his joys was concerned.

A muscular woman, with a big iron poker in hand, a massive dog nosing about the house and ready at instant call, surely had little to fear from a man whose wrists were encircled by steel bracelets and who was swathed like a mummy in a network of rope, no matter how sinister his mood might be. She, too, had heard from her husband the story of the kidnapping of little Grace Hastings, and having a child of her own of about the same age, she gave it as her honest opinion that every one of the criminals should be burned at the stake, thrown head first into a well, tumbled over the highest precipice in the world, and then left to perish with cold in the region discovered by Commander Peary and not discovered by Dr. Cook.

When she found herself alone with the horrible villain, she told Peggy to go outside and play with the dog, while she had a little talk with the prisoner.

She seated herself a couple of paces in front of him, and looking piercingly into his glittering black eyes, demanded in a low, ominous voice:

“Now, what do you think of yourself? Don’t speak a word or I’ll bang you with this poker,” and she raised the stiff rod threateningly.

Understanding what was said to him, the prisoner prudently held his peace.

“I asked you what you thought of yourself. What oughter be done with a scamp that steals a little child from its father and mother? Hanging is too good for him. Ain’t you ashamed? Look out! Don’t you dare open your mouth!”

And again the primitive weapon was brandished close to the captive’s crown, whose shaggy wealth of hair could not have shielded it had the poker descended.

“You ask me what I think,” finally blurted Pierotti in desperation; “you say you strike if I open mouth; I think you are mighty big fool, – that’s what I think – now you know.”

As the Italian sat he faced the open door, toward which the back of the woman was turned. While striving to grasp the meaning of the broken sentences, she saw from the expression of the impish countenance that he was looking at some one behind her. She whirled about, and almost fell from her chair, for standing in the doorway was a second member of the Black Hand, in the person of Amasi Catozzi, who had been slightly wounded by the revolver of Detective Pendar.

This criminal, quick to read the meaning of the departure of the officer with the young aviator, in an outburst of uncontrollable passion fired at him, and then made all haste to the headquarters in the woods, whither his companion had preceded him. He was still running when the explosion told its horrifying story. He knew what had taken place as well as if he had been an eyewitness, with the exception of the personal results to his two associates. With a raging chagrin which no one can comprehend, he saw that the princely ransom which he had felt in the itching palm of his hand had slipped away forever. All that remained to him was to save his own neck, as well as that of the survivors, if so be there were any, provided he could bring about such a consummation without adding to his own peril.

Skilfully keeping out of sight in the wood, he saw Alessandro Pierotti handcuffed and driven to the cabin as a prisoner. Catozzi would have felt a gleeful delight in shooting the man with whom he had already exchanged shots, but to do that would have intensified his own danger, since it would have added ardor to the efforts to run him to earth. The certain result of such disaster would be a verdict of murder, when kidnapping at most involved only a sentence to a long term of imprisonment, with the cheering prospect of a speedy pardon in the background, or a release upon parole, and the opportunity to resume his atrocious misdeeds. Consequently, Catozzi did not interfere during the first part of the proceedings.

As stealthily as a red Indian he peered out from the depth of the forest. Waiting until the detective and child accompanied the young aviator in his flight to Chesterton and were gone long enough for him to feel no fear of their return, he went forward and presented himself in the door while the pointed and somewhat one-sided conversation was going on between Mrs. Waters and the bound prisoner in the chair.

It would have pleased the new arrival to give the woman her final quietus, but he was restrained by the same knowledge that stayed his hand when he might have shot Simmons Pendar. She was so terrified that she could only stare in a daze at Catozzi, with a limp grasp upon the simple weapon in her hand. She would have begged for mercy had she not quickly seen that it was not necessary. The Italian merely glanced at her, and striding forward to the chair, speedily cut the thongs and the prisoner rose to his feet. The loosening of the handcuffs would require more time and could wait. The two talked briefly in their own language. Pierotti indulged in the luxury of a hideous grimace at the woman as he was following his companion out of the door and across the clearing to the forest, into which they plunged and were immediately lost to sight.

This explanation will make clear the disappointment of the mob which swarmed out of the wood soon afterward, with the panting Uncle Tommy still at the head, and the worried detective beside him. He had turned over the care of Grace Hastings to Harvey Hamilton, who remained behind at Chesterton. In his flurry and eagerness Uncle Tommy caught the toe of his boot at the threshold and sprawled on his hands and knees into the “parlor” of his residence.

“Is my lamb safe?” he asked, scrambling to his feet and gazing at the pudgy figure still seated and maintaining a somewhat stronger grip upon the poker.

“You old simpleton! Why don’t you clean your boots?” was the loving response of his life partner, who quickly regained her natural disposition when she saw that all danger had gone by.

Her story was quickly told. The disappointment to all, except the detective, was keen, and his feelings were solely due to his respect for law and order. Uncle Tommy was asked whether his dog could not take the scent of the two fugitives and run them down, but the weather prophet replied that the canine wasn’t worth a shoestring for such work.

“You never will be able to find the couple in the woods,” said Pendar; “there are too many hiding places; they can dodge you for weeks; the only course is for us to return to Chesterton at once, and for me to telegraph to all the surrounding towns, asking the authorities to be on the lookout for them. They will have to leave the woods sooner or later and there is a fair chance of catching both.”

He added in a lower voice:

“What is left of one of them lies a little way from here; the body must not be neglected.”

The announcement caused a striking change in the moods of all. Three of the men walked forth with the detective and viewed all that remained of the Black Hander. One of them carried a blanket which was tenderly laid over the body.

“It is best not to remove it until the coroner has given permission,” explained the officer; “since there has been a death he must make an investigation.”

The party straggled back to town, Uncle Tommy being the only one who stayed behind. Detective Pendar having decided upon his course acted promptly. When he entered the telegraph office he found a long message from Mr. Hastings awaiting him. It was so fervent in its expressions of gratitude that the eyes of the detective filled and he could not command his voice for some minutes. The telegram contained a loving message to the child, and the assurance that the father would start for Chesterton at once to bring her home.

Pendar sent notices to all the nearby towns and to the large cities, doing his work so thoroughly that he said to himself as he lighted a cigar and leaned back in his chair:

“If those two fellows can break through the net that I have spread round them, they will almost deserve to get away. They may keep in hiding for several days, but sooner or later they will be gathered in.”

Harvey Hamilton proposed to carry Grace in his aeroplane to Philadelphia, confident that by starting early the next morning he could reach her home by noon, but his friend showed him the folly of anything of that nature. She was unaccustomed to riding in the air, and an accident was more than likely. Moreover, her father was due in Chesterton on the afternoon of the morrow.

“The child has already passed through too much to incur any more danger from which it is possible to save her. And that reminds me, Harvey,” added the detective with a smile, “you have decided by this time who it was that chopped up your aeroplane.”

“It must have been Catozzi and Caprioni.”

“Beyond a doubt.”

“Why did they do it?”

“They may have seen a possible danger in the presence of a machine like that in the neighborhood of Chesterton and decided to put it out of commission.”

“Why didn’t they do the same with my second?”

“It would have involved a great deal more risk, and could have accomplished little or nothing for them. Besides, we mustn’t forget the element of unadulterated cussedness that actuates so many members of mankind. Professor Morgan took a fancy to inspect your machine at close range without the chance of meeting you, and so he made a visit early in the morning, only to find it smashed to everlasting smithereens. He left, your colored boy being just in time to gain a glimpse of him, and straightway telegraphed your father, and you know what followed.”

This part of my story may be summed up in a few sentences. On the morrow the coroner entered into an official investigation, as in duty bound, of the death of the Italian supposed to be Giuseppe Caprioni, blown up by the explosion of a bomb. The testimony of Professor Milo Morgan was much needed, but he had departed no one knew whither, and that of Simmons Pendar supplied its place. The verdict was in accordance with the facts, so far as they could be ascertained, and the body was buried in Potter’s Field.

The next day the gratifying intelligence came that both Catozzi and Pierotti had been captured in Groveton, only twelve miles from Chesterton. Driven out by hunger they had applied at a house for food, and were quickly arrested. They were tried, found guilty and sentenced to the longest terms possible in State Prison, where it is to be hoped they will spend the remainder of their days.