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  THE MYSTERY
  _of_
  SEAL ISLANDS

  _by_
  HARRISON BARDWELL

  [Illustration]

  THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING COMPANY
  CLEVELAND, O.      NEW YORK, N. Y.
  Made in U. S. A.




  Copyright, 1931
  _by_
  THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.

  PRESS OF
  THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.
  CLEVELAND




CHAPTER I

A BITTER BLOW


“I say, Berta, thought you were going to do some work for that Mr. Howe
of the Federal Service. Did it fall through?”

“Haven’t heard much more about it, Harv,” Roberta answered her brother,
as she poured maple syrup over a serving of piping hot pancakes. Her
mother came in at that moment with a replenished bowl of oatmeal, and
she paused with an anxious glance at her young daughter.

“Hope you do not hear anything more about it, dear. I feel that your
activities in helping clear up the mystery at Lurtiss Field placed you
in any number of very dangerous situations. Being a pilot is hazardous
enough without adding to the difficulties by running down air-gangsters
of any kind,” she said soberly.

“Perhaps Mr. Howe has discovered that he does not require your
services. In work of that nature very often, when men on the job think
they have struck a hard snag, something comes up suddenly which clears
the matter so they do not require outside assistance,” remarked Mr.
Langwell, then smiled at his wife. “As a maker of pancakes, my dear,
you draw first prize. The only drawback to such a breakfast is a man’s
limited capacity.”

“You aren’t announcing that you have been limiting yourself!” Roberta
laughed.

“No, that isn’t my claim, but I have to confess that my limit is in
sight,” he told her.

“Tough luck, Dad. Now, I am only getting well started,” Roberta said,
then added to her mother, “If you drew prizes for all the good things
you cook you would have to have a museum for them as large as Colonel
Lindbergh’s in St. Louis.”

“Second the motion,” Harvey put in, then went on to his young sister,
“Who’s the lady you have been piloting along the coast the last couple
of weeks? Larry Kingsley told me she’s got loads of money and has taken
to taxiing about in the air with no particular objective.”

“Oh, that is Mrs. Pollzoff. Her husband used to be in the fur business
and when he died she sold her interest to a big syndicate, she told
me, because she knew there wasn’t much chance of her making a success
against such competition. She is keen on aviation, and bought herself a
plane but has never been able to get a license. I asked Mr. Trowbridge
and he said he thought it was because she showed very little judgment
in an emergency; she cracked-up three times, and they forbade her to
fly alone.”

“I should think they would,” Mrs. Langwell exclaimed indignantly.

“That’s all I know about her, except that she is madder than a dozen
wet hens at the government for depriving her of the right to fly; and
she seems to be interested in fishes.”

“Fishes?”

“Yes. She always carries a wonderful pair of glasses, and when we
are over the water orders that I fly low and as slowly as possible
while she examines the deep. I have to keep my eyes on the board, so I
haven’t been able to look at what attracts her attention especially,
but a couple of times she has seemed very pleased over what she
examined, and appears to admire the schools of fish we have followed
a couple of times. Guess it’s a hobby of hers, and she hasn’t anything
special to do, so she rides it--”

“Or rides the air,” Harvey laughed.

“Are you children riding in with me?” Mr. Langwell asked. “The time is
getting short.”

“I am, Dad, thanks. If you will take me as far as the subway in
Jamaica, I’ll land just in time for class,” Harvey answered.

“Phil will be here to pick me up, thank you,” Roberta replied, so,
as the meal was finished, and the last pancake had disappeared, they
left the table to start on the day’s occupations. Harvey raced up
the stairs, three at a jump, while his sister gave her mother a hand
straightening the dining room as she waited for Phil Fisher to take her
to the flying field.

“I hear the motor, my dear,” Mrs. Langwell interrupted. “You’d better
hurry.”

“He’s early this morning, but probably he has something to do before
schedule.” The girl hastened with her own preparations so that when the
young man appeared at the door she was properly helmeted and all ready
to take the air.

“Top of the morning to you,” Phil called cheerily. “Your esteemed
passenger wants to make an early start, so the boys will have Nike
warmed up for you and you can start as soon as you get to the field.”

“It’s mighty good of you to come and fetch me,” Roberta smiled at the
president’s son, who had not so many weeks before gone through a series
of exciting, dangerous air-adventures with her. But those things were
all in the day’s work and belonged to the past; the new day awaited
them.

“It isn’t much of a hop, and as Mrs. Pollzoff has all the earmarks of
being a good customer, she must be humored,” Phil grinned. “Just the
same, I’m glad they wished her on you and Nike instead of the Moth and
yours truly.”

“Well, it’s no particular fun piloting her. I wish she’d decide she
wants variety, and give you all a chance at the job,” Roberta told
him. They were making their way to where the Moth, Phil’s own imported
machine, waited to leap in the air with them. “I say, when is Mr. Howe
going to start that investigation he spoke of a few weeks ago. Heard
anything about it?”

“You are not so fed up on Mrs. Pollzoff that you want to get away from
us all, are you?” he demanded.

“No, of course not, but I was wondering what his plan was and what
happened to it, if anything,” Roberta answered.

“Glad to hear you do not want to leave. Gosh, to lose our only girl
sky-pilot would be--unthinkable; but, come to think of it, Howe came
to the house to see Dad one day last week, perhaps they are getting
it fixed up for you to take on the job. I heard the Old Man say the
Federal representative would be at the office today, so perhaps
you’ll get some information. Here we are.” They reached the plane and
Roberta climbed into the seat beside the pilot’s, adjusted straps and
parachute, while the young man gave his machine a thorough looking-over
then took his own place.

“Any idea what it’s all about?”

“A small one. Several governments--ours and a couple of others, are
trying to trace down illegal seal fishing; catch the lads who don’t
follow the rules. Contact.” They were off, and Roberta inquired no more
about the government work because Phil’s account of it sounded quite as
tame as piloting Mrs. Pollzoff. Presently the Moth dropped out of the
sky, landed near the office of the Lurtiss Airplane Company and a bit
later the girl sky-pilot presented herself at the private office of Mr.
Trowbridge for whom she worked when she first joined the organization
as a secretary. Mr. Wallace, one of the special instructors, was
already there, and when Roberta entered, they both rose to their feet
to wish her good morning.

“Anything special?” she asked when greetings were exchanged.

“Only Mrs. Pollzoff. She ought to be here any minute,” Mr. Trowbridge
replied.

“Howe is coming in this morning,” Mr. Wallace added.

“Phil told me--”

“Yes, and here I am,” Mr. Howe announced himself as he entered. “They
told me you were all in here, so I took the liberty of coming in
without knocking; I can go out the same way if you like.”

“You can stay here, without knocking,” Mr. Trowbridge hastened to
assure him. “I’m thinking Miss Langwell is glad to see you.”

“She has been handling a job that is dull as ditch-water,” Wallace put
in quickly.

“She will not find my work dull, but it will be cold, for it may take
her to the Bering Sea,” Mr. Howe informed them. “I expect to be ready
for her soon.”

“It sounds no end exciting,” Roberta said and her eyes sparkled. A
job that would take her to the Bering Sea appeared to have endless
possibilities and she was keenly interested. Just then the phone rang
and Mr. Trowbridge answered it.

“Your passenger has arrived,” he told Roberta.

“I’ll go right down.”

“See you later,” Mr. Howe called after her as she hurried away. Ten
minutes later Nike, her own prize plane, was taxied to the edge of the
field, where Roberta and her passenger, a tall, slender woman, whose
flying costume, however, gave her huge proportions, waited. The machine
came up just as Mr. Wallace and Mr. Howe, in the company’s carrying
automobile started for the further end of the field.

“There is to be a test for the racing machines this evening, Miss
Langwell,” the instructor called as he brought the car to a stop close
to where the two were standing. Roberta noticed that the Federal man
gave her companion a swift, all-inclusive glance, but since that was
the way with Mr. Howe, and he always looked everybody up and down, she
did not think anything about it.

“Hope I can watch it,” she replied.

“All set, Miss Langwell.” Nike came to a stop a few yards away, so,
forgetting everything else, Roberta turned her whole attention to the
task at hand. Presently all was ready, and in another moment, Nike was
leaping into the air, carrying her pilot and passenger up a steep climb
until they were well in the air, then her nose was leveled and she shot
east and south, as Mrs. Pollzoff designated the direction she wished to
take.

Having taken the woman every day for over two weeks, Roberta knew
pretty well how high and fast she preferred to travel, so they did
not waste any time on discussions, but shot ahead swiftly. Almost as
soon as she was seated, Mrs. Pollzoff got the powerful field glasses
out of their case, and as soon as they were over the water, trained
them on its smooth surface. The day was clear, the sky blue, and the
sea calm, so the task of piloting was not arduous, and Roberta let her
mind wander on speculations about her companion. That the woman was
wealthy was obvious, but for the first time the girl began to wonder
about her interest in things in the ocean. It occurred to her that the
woman might be looking for sunken vessels, or something of that nature,
but she had never let a word drop regarding what she sought. Then
it struck Roberta that she was a bit mysterious. Although it wasn’t
necessary for passengers to explain their businesses or hobbies, still
when anyone traveled day after day with the same pilot it was only
natural that they should establish more or less friendly relations and
exchange odds and ends about each other. Thinking it over carefully,
the girl realized that except for the facts that Mrs. Pollzoff’s
husband had come to the United States from Russia when he was a lad,
that he had gone into the fur business, and had been dead two years,
she knew nothing more than the bit of information gleaned in the office
regarding the failure to pass the flying tests to fly her own machine.

“Follow the coast south and keep outside the Government limit,” Mrs.
Pollzoff directed after they had been in the air about an hour. “Have
you plenty of gas? I want to remain up several hours.”

“Plenty,” Roberta assured her but she was becoming really puzzled
about her passenger. It could not be possible that Mrs. Pollzoff
was in search of vessels carrying liquor, for she never showed the
slightest interest in ships of any description when they were sighted,
but this was the first time she expressed a desire to keep beyond the
jurisdiction of the United States. The request was strange and the girl
pilot felt oddly disturbed by it.

But if Mrs. Pollzoff was doing anything forbidden by the laws of the
United States, she gave no sign of it during the hours which followed.
Her glasses swept the water as they had every other day, and if she
noticed the ships, large or small, plowing through them, she was
remarkably successful in keeping the fact to herself. Except for her
usual directions regarding the course they were to follow, she said
nothing more; and at noon she signified her desire to return to land.
She requested that they come down on the southern part of New Jersey,
but here she merely led the way to a restaurant where she ordered lunch
for both of them.

Seated across from her, Roberta noted that she might be about
thirty-five years old, and her mouth, which was rather large, was set
firmly, like a mask. Without consulting her companion, she ordered an
excellent meal, and after the first course was set before them, her
face relaxed somewhat, as if she suddenly realized her duties as a
hostess.

“You are an excellent pilot, Miss Langwell,” she remarked. There was
a musical quality to her voice, as if she might sing a good contralto,
and when her eyes softened it gave her features an expression of real
charm.

“Thank you,” Roberta replied, a bit at a loss. Since she had started to
wonder about her passenger a feeling of awkwardness came over her, and
she flushed with embarrassment.

“There is little money these days in commercial piloting, I am
informed,” Mrs. Pollzoff went on in a chatty sort of fashion as if she
were filling in the gap with small talk.

“I like the work,” the girl answered.

“You doubtless have many passengers and various experiences?”

“I guess we all do,” Roberta replied. Something inside her warned
her that perhaps it would be just as well if she did not become too
confidential over her work. Since she had won her own license she had
learned much about human nature, and every day she was adding to that
store of knowledge, either through her own experiences or those of her
co-pilots, so her bump of caution was developing rapidly.

“Ah, the waiter.” The man appeared and the meal was eaten almost in
silence. Twice Roberta tried to break the awkwardness of the situation,
but the replies from her companion were the briefest possible, so she
gave up the attempt after the second failure. She was glad when the
meal was over and they returned to Nike. They took their places and
several times during the return trip, the pilot saw her companion give
her short quick glances.

There was something about Mrs. Pollzoff which made Roberta recall the
time Phil had been employed to take an old man on regular trips to
Philadelphia. Young Fisher had described his passenger as “falling to
pieces,” but after a number of trips, Roberta had chanced to see the
pair in the air; the ancient man pressing a pistol to the back of his
pilot’s head. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, in fact it added greatly to
the girl’s uneasiness, but, if her companion’s intention was evil, she
gave no evidence of it. They reached the field in good time without
mishap, and as soon as they were out of the cockpit, the passenger
turned for an instant.

“Tomorrow I shall come at the same time.”

“Let them know at the office,” Roberta replied mechanically. Just at
that moment Phil’s Moth came roaring over the field and lighted close
by. He waved to Roberta, who waited for him.

“Have a wild time?”

“Wild as a plate of soup.” Roberta told him how she had spent the hours
and what had been passing through her mind. They walked slowly toward
the office and Phil listened thoughtfully.

“Wonder what her game is anyway? I’m going to tell Trowbridge to have
some--”

“I say, Kingsley.” Someone called the president’s son, and with a nod
to his companion, he strode off to see what was wanted.

Roberta proceeded, but as she went she wished she had not spoken to
Phil of her nervousness. Probably it was just silly and she certainly
didn’t want to be relieved of the responsibility because she was
afraid. After all, there wasn’t a thing in the world to be afraid of,
nothing but a collection of wild guesses. It was unlike the time the
“old man” had tried to appropriate the Moth, for then the country was
filled with horrible stories of “Blue Air-pirates,” but now everything
was as it should be. In fact, life was a bit dull except for the
unending joy of racing into the sky. By that time she reached Mr.
Trowbridge’s office, but as she opened the door she heard Mr. Wallace
saying angrily, “Well, I’ll be darned if I see it. Oh, oh, hello Miss
Langwell.” With that he rushed out of the room and banged the door so
hard that it jarred the place.

“Oh, er, oh,” Mr. Trowbridge glanced at her, then began to fumble with
some papers on his desk. “Wallace is a bit upset, you’ll have to excuse
him.”

“Sorry if I interrupted--”

“Er, no, you didn’t. That is, well, you have to be told--”

“Is something wrong, Mr. Trowbridge?” she asked quietly.

“Well, er, yes there is--”

“Anything happened to Mother or--”

“Oh, no, what a blundering ass I am; but, you know, it’s this way, the
stock market--well, you’ve heard how it broke a lot of people. We have
to--er, reduce expenses, er, you see--there was a meeting, and some of
the pilots have to go--I’m sorry, hate to lose you, hate it like fury,
and so does Wallace.”




CHAPTER II

ANOTHER HARD BLOW


After making this astonishing statement, Mr. Trowbridge walked hastily
to the window and ran his fingers around his collar as if it was tight.
For a moment Roberta stood in her tracks, her helmet shoved back off
her forehead, her wavy hair falling in unruly twists, while her eyes
stared at the man’s back so hard they finally forced him to turn around.

“Oh, I say, Miss Langwell--” he paused, then walked briskly to his
desk, cleared his throat, opened and closed a drawer, and without
looking at her again, spoke with an effort. “I’m sorry about this--” he
got up again, “but, don’t take it so hard. You’ve got one of the best
records of any pilot in the country, you own Nike, and you are sure to
pick up something quickly.”

“I, I wasn’t thinking of that,” she managed to answer. It was her
first position since she had been graduated from business school,
so of course it was the first time she had lost one, and now it
swept over her, like an on-rushing tide, that she was outside of the
organization; she was no longer a part of the Lurtiss Airplane Company.
She swallowed, bravely endeavoring to buck up or snap out of her
depression, but it wasn’t easy.

“No, surely you weren’t. Sit down a moment and collect yourself. This
financial mess is likely to adjust itself overnight, then the whole
works will be booming again. It can’t be anything more than temporary,
and in a few weeks you’ll be back again. You’ll be the first one
recalled, for your service has been excellent, excellent.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Trowbridge--”

“There’s a lot of pick-up work. Odds and ends; people hiring planes
for trips and business purposes. With Nike you can find plenty to do.
If I may make a suggestion, I’d say do some of that sort of thing
temporarily--but--then,” he glanced at her and frowned. “You probably
won’t want to see one of us again, ever--”

“I’ll be glad to come back whenever you have a place for me,” she told
him hastily. Mr. Trowbridge was feeling so miserable that Roberta was
sorry for him and tried to cheer him up.

“That’s great. Knew you were not the sore-head kind. You can understand
how things _will_ happen--”

“I guess I don’t very well, but I am sure you have all been most kind
to me. I’d rather be dismissed because of reducing expenses than
because I didn’t do my job well. Mr. Howe was in this morning. Did he
say anything about the work he wanted done?”

“Well, er, he did mention it, but I believe he left for Washington and
I don’t know when he’ll be back. He can get your address from us any
time he wants it, or you could send him a note--”

“Guess I won’t do that, but I will leave the address, thank you.”
She wrote it down for him and was glad to be able to do something
for a moment. “If he wants me he can find me easily enough. You have
been mighty kind--I’m wondering if--if it will seem--that is, I wish
you would tell the others that I appreciate--I--somehow I don’t feel
exactly like saying goodbye to them--”

“I’ll be glad to. They will understand.” Mr. Trowbridge answered so
quickly that she was a little startled at his readiness, but that, too,
passed out of her mind immediately.

“I’ll get Nike--”

“One of the boys will fix her up for you, and any time you want her
given an overhauling, drop down here. She’ll be taken care of the same
as usual; we’d feel neglected if you did not permit us to do that for
you.” He tried to smile, but the effort was not much of a success.

“Thank you--” Quickly she faced about and hurried out of the office,
closing the door after her much more softly than Mr. Wallace had done a
few minutes before. She did not notice as she made her way to the big
entrance, but before she got half way to the hangar, she met Phil.

“Oh, here you are, say” he stopped short. “What’s the matter, Roberta,
you look as if you’d seen a ghost!”

“I’m all right,” she answered and blinked furiously.

“Where you going?” demanded Phil.

“Home.”

“Let me take you.” He swung in beside her.

“Thank you, I’m going alone--Oh, it’s all right, I mean I’m all right,
but, well, Mr. Trowbridge just told me about the--”

“About the what?”

“He told me the firm has to let some of its pilots go, and I am one of
them.” Phil stopped short, caught her arm and swung her around so that
she faced him.

“What the heck are you talking about?” he demanded.

“I just lost my job and I guess I am making an awful boob of myself.”
She forced her lips into a good imitation of a smile.

“I say, you are full of--quit kidding--”

“I am not kidding, Phil.”

“You mean to say Trowbridge just told you that you can’t work here any
more,” he persisted.

“Yes I do,” she answered. “So long, Phil.”

“I say, wait a minute, while I look into this,” he called, but a plane
was roaring onto the field and the noise of the motor drowned his voice
so the girl did not hear. Her throat choked as she hurried to get away,
and after staring at her a few minutes, young Fisher, his forehead
puckered in a deep frown, strode toward the office, and met Trowbridge
just coming out. “What’s the big idea?” he demanded.

“You mean about Miss Langwell?”

“Of course,” Phil snapped.

“Howe has some sort of idea that he wants to put into operation. He
believes that it will help him capture a choice collection of bandits
and he thinks some of them will make use of Miss Langwell, so she’s in
the Government employ really, but she doesn’t know it.”

“It sounds blamed putrid to me,” Phil declared, and he started down the
steps.

“Give it a trial, Phil, for it’s a whale of a thing,” the man urged.
“We don’t any of us think much of the plan, but she promised to help
him and probably his way is best.”

“Well--” Just then the familiar roar of Nike’s engine announced that
their Girl Sky Pilot was on her way home, and if Roberta could have had
an inkling of that conversation, it would have brightened the outlook
of everything for weeks to come. But she was blissfully unconscious
that she was playing a part, and life seemed to be of the deepest
indigo.

It took Nike only a short time to get her young owner home and to her
own new hangar. The Langwells lived on the outskirts of one of Long
Island’s many small towns, east of the flying field on a part of an
ancient farm. There were several acres in the property and since they
had become interested in aviation, Harvey and his sister had built a
house for their planes out of an old barn. They had smoothed off a fair
runway, not as good, of course, as those on the regulation fields, but
it was fairly smooth and perfectly safe for landing and taking-off.
Nike was brought down in a perfect three-point and mechanically the
girl glanced at the wind-sock fluttering under the old weather-cock.

There was a catch in the girl’s throat when she unlocked the long
sliding doors and assured herself that her brother’s plane, the Falcon,
which that young man rarely used since he was back at college, was
properly placed so her own machine could be run in easily. While she
was attending to the task she heard the house door open, and realized
that her mother was probably coming out to learn why she was home so
early. With a determined effort she shook off the gloom, or at least
its outward appearance, so when Mrs. Langwell appeared she was greeted
by a smiling young daughter.

“’Lo, Mummy,” she called.

“All right, my dear?”

“Top hole. As soon as I lock the door I’ll be in with you,” she
answered with a disarming cheeriness.

“May I help?”

“Sure, tell me if I’m getting too close to the Falcon’s wings.”

“You have plenty of space.” Presently the two machines were locked in
to exchange confidences if they felt so disposed, while Roberta and
her mother walked arm in arm to the house. “I suppose you have to take
someone in the morning and that is why you have brought Nike home for a
visit.”

“No, that’s a wrong guess, Mummy.” They went into the house and Mrs.
Langwell glanced anxiously at the girl.

“Sure you are all right, dear?”

“Fine as silk. Fact is, Mummy, the stock-market slump has hit some
of our directors, hard, and the company has to reduce expenses. Mr.
Trowbridge told me when I came back with my passenger this afternoon.”

“The stock-market slump; why, that was months ago!”

“I don’t know much about it except what I heard you and Dad saying last
fall. Is it possible that it still affects business?” Roberta didn’t
ask because she was at all interested in the “Bulls and Bears of Wall
Street,” but just for the sake of talking. She removed her flying coat
and hat and hung them, with a sigh, in the hall closet, wondering a
bit sadly how soon she would use them again. She knew that she simply
couldn’t leave the beloved Nike idle in the hangar; she would certainly
take it out for pleasure, but that was different from being really a
part of the great force of men and women aiding in the world’s grand
and almost brand new industry.

“Probably,” her mother answered. “Your father was saying only a few
nights ago that a good many big business men have gone on with their
projects confident that the financial situation would improve, but
while it is getting better, the growth is slow and any number of them
have had to drop out.”

“Dad didn’t get hit, did he?”

“No dear, he has some stock in various concerns but it is not the kind
that fluctuates with an erratic market.”

“Mr. Trowbridge suggested that I pick up some odds and ends for a while
and probably in a few weeks things will be better with the company
and I can go back. He was sort of shot up when he told me,” Roberta
explained.

“I’ll be mighty glad to have my girl home with me for a while,” Mrs.
Langwell smiled.

“And it will not be hard on my own feelings, to stay,” she laughed.
“I’ve been thinking I may go in for some record-breaking flights--”

“My dear--” her mother protested.

“I don’t mean stunts; just long distance hops.”

“But will Nike carry gas enough for trips?”

“She’ll go a lot, Mummy. You know Nike has been a sort of pet of Mr.
Wallace’s and he’s put all sorts of improvements into her. She’s a
top-notch bird and no one except us and a few men in the company really
know how capable she is, and we’re not telling.”

“Suppose you stay home for a day or two anyway before you fly off from
the nest, Honey,” her mother pleaded.

“All right. Tell you what, I’ll take you joy-riding around the skies,”
she promised and although Mrs. Langwell made no objection and fully
appreciated that flying was a splendid means of travel, she just could
not think of herself as a successful joy-rider.

That evening when Mr. Langwell reached home he heard the news with some
surprise and questioned Roberta closely. However, he did not make any
guesses and did his best to cheer her up.

“You have been most fortunate, my dear, as a young business woman,
and this is the first time you have lost a position, so it seems more
tragic than anything else in the world, but as you gain experience
you will understand that almost any enterprise has its ups and downs,
the downs often being in the majority. Sudden changes are frequently
necessary. Just figure up your assets; you have Nike, an A-One license,
know how to be a good secretary in case you cannot get a pilot’s berth,
some money in the savings bank--”

“And health,” her mother added.

“And the best family in the world,” Roberta laughed. “My goodness, when
I come to count my blessings they mount up to the skies, almost.”

“That’s the way to look at it,” her father encouraged. “Life is not all
a path of roses, and sometimes even the roses have thorns. When things
run along too smoothly one gets careless and unprepared to face the
rough places.”

“Guess it is like flying,” Roberta answered. “You have to keep alert
for the pockets, bumps, and cliffs, besides watching the machinery, if
you don’t want a smash.”

“That’s the idea. I know your mother will be happy if you remain
grounded for a while, and I am sure that if I try hard, I can bear up
under it,” he grinned mischievously.

“Dad, you are a fraud,” the girl laughed heartily.

“As long as my efforts are not flat tires I’ll survive that,” he
retorted, and after that the fact that she had lost her position was
dismissed, the three spent a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Before she
hopped into bed that night, Roberta glanced at the converted hangar and
couldn’t suppress a little sigh.

“As a good sport, I am something of a flat tire myself,” she said
softly and was about to turn away from the window when she thought
she caught sight of something moving slowly along the door. Instantly
forgetting sleepiness she stared hard for fully a minute until she
convinced herself that there was something there. “It may be a dog,”
she told herself, for although the Langwells didn’t have one, most of
the neighbors did, and at night the beasts were given to prowling about
the community.

Watching a bit longer the girl came to the conclusion that if it was
a dog the beast was behaving oddly. She didn’t recall ever seeing one
move so stealthily. She reasoned that it might be getting ready to
pounce on something, but in the darkness she couldn’t see a thing it
could be after. If it was a man, a prowler, what was he doing near the
hangar? Her heart leaped to her throat as she thought of Nike poised
inside beside the Falcon, but certainly no one would dream of trying
to steal the ancient plane belonging to her brother, for its days of
usefulness were practically over. Yet, she was sure that no one knew
that her own prize machine rested behind that door. The huddled bunch
of blackness moved forward, gave a little leap, and she leaned over the
sill.

“Sure, it’s a dog. Probably one of the big ones on a neighborly tour
of investigation.” She watched a bit longer, and was just about to get
into bed when she spied a thin streak of light, like a carefully shaded
flash, that cast a faint glow on the ground. Then it began to travel
swiftly up toward the lock and to her straining ears came the faintest
sound of scraping. Quick as a thought Roberta threw on a robe, jammed
her feet into her slippers as she hurried across the room, then raced
to her Father’s door, where she knocked.

“Dad, dad,” she called softly.

“My dear, what is the matter?” Mrs. Langwell had heard and leaped out
of bed in fright before her husband was fully awake. Her hand moved
along the wall for the electric switch, but Roberta placed her own over
it quickly.

“Don’t, Mummy,” she whispered.

“What is the matter, Berta?” her father asked. He was wide awake now
and up beside her. “Are you sick?”

“No, Dad, but someone is trying to get into the hangar!”

“To get into the hangar?”

“Yes, I saw someone moving by the door and watched it. Thought it was a
dog, then whoever it is turned on a little light by the opening,” she
explained excitedly.

“No one would try to steal the planes, either of them, dear, it would
make too much noise,” he protested.

“If they get the door open they could muffle the machine a bit, roll it
out and get away,” she insisted.

“That is so,” he admitted.

“They would not have to take it far before they start the engine, then
they can get off in it. Nike doesn’t need any warming up--”

“That’s so. Come into your room.” The adults’ own sleeping quarters
did not face the rear, so the old barn could not be seen or watched
from their windows.

“You must be careful, both of you,” Mrs. Langwell urged anxiously.

“We will.” He had already gotten into his own shoes, which he did not
stop to tie, while his wife handed him his bath robe, which was dark
colored and warm.

“Come along.” The pair, with Mrs. Langwell following in the distance,
proceeded quickly. In a moment they were at the window, and there was
no doubting the fact that prowlers of some kind were working to open
the door. The light shone in a faint round circle over the lock, and
a figure, which looked tall and grotesque, was busy with a tool. So
far as they could see, only one person was at the hangar but they were
reasonably sure that at least one guard was on duty to warn the robber
if necessary.

“I’m going out--.” Mr. Langwell caught her quickly.

“Do nothing of the kind,” he ordered firmly. “Get me that old shotgun
out of the closet. Be careful of it.”

“All right.” She flew swiftly to the place where her father stored all
sorts of odds and ends, including an ancient double-barreled shotgun
which had been one of his treasures when he was a young man. Since the
children had grown up it had been kept loaded and both of them had been
taught how to handle it without danger. Quickly Roberta took it from
its hooks and hurried back to her father.

“Thank you. Stand back.” He rested the long barrel on the sill, the
sight trained on the barn, then, without an unnecessary sound, he
pulled the trigger, first one, then the other. There was a loud report,
followed instantly by a hail of lead which crackled as it spattered
over a wide surface.




CHAPTER III

A STRANGE PROPOSAL


Simultaneously with the sound of peppering bullets came a furious
string of oaths. A second figure leaped from the corner of the old
building and then the gun spoke again. This time, amid the hail of
small bullets came a muffled cry of pain, subdued curses, and a swift
scrambling of two pairs of feet taking their owners helter-skelter from
the vicinity. From a distance came the roar of a motor thrown open
quickly somewhere down the road, a clutch released as if by frantic
hands, then an automobile in motion, but moving slowly.

“Nipped them,” Dad declared with satisfaction.

“Wish you could have done more than that,” Roberta said without any
compunction.

“At any rate, they are frightened away. Turn on the lights, Mother,
please, and we’ll do some investigating.” Mrs. Langwell pressed the
switches which immediately illuminated the whole house, and the sounds
of shouts came from the home of the nearest neighbors. This was taken
up by other persons, while someone on a motorcycle seemed to turn as if
giving chase after the robbers.

“Don’t go out,” Mrs. Langwell urged as her husband began to don his
trousers hastily under his robe.

“It’s quite safe,” he assured her. Before he was ready there came a
pounding at the door--alarmed voices shouted, “You people all right,
Langwell?”

“That’s Mr. Howard. He’s the sheriff of the county and must have been
in the neighborhood.”

“I’ll be right down,” Mrs. Langwell called. Presently the officer of
the law was standing in the hall, while she explained what had happened.

“Glad nobody’s hurt, least-wise, none of you folks. I’ll go out and
have a look around.” There was a business-like gun in his hand and his
chin was set firmly.

“I’m coming with you,” Mr. Langwell called from the top of the stairs
as he hurried to join the sheriff.

“I’m coming too, Dad.”

“Stay with your mother, please,” he answered, so Roberta obeyed.

“There isn’t a thing you can do out there, Honey,” Mrs. Langwell
assured her. “And you might get in the way.”

So the girl had to be content to remain inside, while sounds of people
running, sharp questions, brief answers, and the noise of automobiles
stopping while the occupants demanded to know what was the difficulty
came to them from outside. Half an hour later Mr. Langwell came back
with the sheriff and their nearest neighbor, and although they were
greatly excited, they had discovered nothing more than some footprints
of the robbers, and the place where a large car had been parked by the
side of the road, obviously waiting to assist the thieves in their
enterprise, or get them away from the scene of their mischief.

“That’s a good lock you have on the building,” the sheriff announced.
“Kept them from opening the door right away.”

“Mighty good thing your daughter happened to look out of her window
before she turned in to bed,” remarked the neighbor.

“Yes, indeed it is.”

“I call the best part that you had a pop-gun to pepper them with. I
heard one cry out, and from my window I saw that the fellow hiding
nearest the barn grabbed toward his face.”

“From that window of yours you must have had a pretty good look at
them, even if it was dark,” said the sheriff.

“Did, for an instant. The lad that got nipped seemed like a big boy;
tall, stout chap I should say, but the way he sprinted after the gun
went off, he sure is agile.”

“Did you hear them at the hangar?” Roberta asked.

“No. Fact is, we were in bed and my wife asked me to open our window
a bit wider. These spring nights are warming considerable. I just
got the window up when the shot came. The lad at the door surely had
a vocabulary! Then the second shot ripped about and the fat fellow
squealed.”

“It was fortunate that you happened to be in the neighborhood, Mr.
Howard,” said Mrs. Langwell.

“I was cutting across lots for home when I heard the shots. I’d been
at the town hall where we had a hot session over some concessions and
taxes. Just got through and I was so tired I was for getting home
by the shortest route, even if it took me through other people’s
property,” explained the sheriff.

“We are very much--” Just then a motorcycle sputtered up to the house
and its rider flung himself off vigorously. Before he could knock, Mr.
Langwell was at the door and threw it open.

“Hello, I say, I happened to be riding near here, sort of meandering
along not making much noise and I passed a big car parked back of those
elm trees. Thought it was a spooning party, so came along minding my
own business, then I heard shots and almost at the same time the motor
of the limousine was started. I put on the brakes just in time to keep
from hitting a man who was running toward the road, and he hopped into
the car, another fellow right after him.”

“Did you turn round and chase them?” Roberta asked eagerly.

“Yes, Miss, I did, but they opened her up and went ‘hell bent for
election,’ I beg your pardon. And pretty soon I couldn’t see anything
but the dust they made, and there was plenty of that.” He fumbled in
the pocket of his jacket.

“Get the number?” the sheriff snapped.

“Bet your socks,” the boy grinned. “Here she is.”

“Good piece of work.” Mr. Howard took the scrap of paper upon which the
license number had been hastily scrawled.

“Wrote it down quick so I wouldn’t forget it. Anybody hurt?”

“Thank you, we are all right,” Mrs. Langwell assured him. “Won’t you
have a cup of coffee, or something to eat?” The chap was about Harvey’s
age.

“Thanks just the same. I’ll ooze along. You people will want to get
back to bed. If you care to bump-the-bumps with me, sheriff, I’ll give
you a lift on this cycle.”

“Thanks. I’ll get home as fast as I can and start things humming on the
telephone. Spread this number over the country through the broadcasting
stations and find out who owns that car.”

“Ought not to be hard finding the would-be thieves,” the boy grinned.

“Looks as if it might be easy, thanks to your good sense.”

“Say it with flowers,” the lad chuckled. “Come along. As long as I live
I may never get another chance to have a sheriff in the saddle behind
me. How I wish a cop would try to stop me on this trip.”

The pair went off amid the reports of the motorcycle, and then the
neighbors, assured that the Langwells were unhurt and in no further
danger, departed. Before she went to bed Roberta took another look
at the old barn-hangar where Nike and the Falcon were still resting
securely. With a sigh of relief she glanced toward the sky, which was
mighty dark, but she caught the faint outline of the moon shining
through as if she had decided to lighten things up a bit in the
vicinity of the beloved airplane and its owner. In spite of the
excitement and terror, the girl was so weary that she dropped off to
sleep at once and it was late when she awakened. To her amazement she
heard voices in the vicinity of the hangar, but when she hopped out of
bed, she saw it was her Dad there with the village electrician.

“Good morning, dear, I thought I heard you moving about.”

“Morning, Mummy. What are they doing out there?”

“Your father decided to have a good alarm put on the door so that the
next unwelcome hand that tries to tamper with it will wake up the
neighborhood,” she explained.

“Dad’s a dear,” the girl answered.

“I’ve always thought so,” her mother admitted.

“And you have known him a lot longer than I have,” Roberta chuckled.

“How would you like some breakfast here--”

“Top hole, but I’m going to get into some clothes and come down and
get it before you spoil me entirely,” she laughed and gave her mother
a resounding kiss. “Oh, isn’t it great that there was no damage really
done!”

“Simply great.”

“Did Mr. Howard get any news of the robbers?”

“We haven’t heard anything from him this morning, but your father plans
to stop at his office on the way in to town.”

While Roberta was eating her belated breakfast any number of neighbors
came in to congratulate the family because its property was safe, and,
those who did not know the facts, to get details of the attempted
theft. Once the conversation was interrupted by the sudden and sharp
clanging of a bell which made them all jump. But Mrs. Langwell glanced
out of the window and saw the electrician waving his hand so she knew
he was merely testing the alarm, and reassured the callers.

“Sounds louder than the fire bell,” Roberta remarked, and they agreed
that she was right and it would certainly wake everybody in the
neighborhood if it went off at night.

After the guests had taken their departure the girl helped her mother
and when the bell was finally installed, they went out to inspect the
job. The alarm was set low on the wall, the wiring ran back through the
thick planks, which had been bored so they were not exposed, and could
not be either ripped out or cut without difficulty.

“Keep them set all of the time,” the man explained, “and remember
whenever you want to open the door to switch them off. I’m to put some
more on the windows, so your plane will certainly be well protected and
ought to be safe.”

“That’s what we want,” Mrs. Langwell told him, then turned to her
daughter. “That is our telephone, dear.”

“I’ll go and answer it,” Roberta replied, and ran to the house as fast
as she could. The bell was still ringing so she knew that the party had
not been discouraged over the delay and given up getting in touch with
the family. “Hello,” she spoke into the phone.

“I wish to speak with Miss Langwell,” came the reply, and although the
voice sounded familiar, Roberta could not recognize it immediately.

“This is Miss Langwell,” she said.

“Miss Roberta Langwell?”

“Yes.”

“How do you do! This is Mrs. Pollzoff.”

“Oh!” Roberta wasn’t at all delighted at the announcement.

“Today I went early to the field; waited for you an unreasonable length
of time, then found, upon inquiry, that you are no longer with the
Lurtiss Airplane Company.”

“Yes.”

“I was sorry, of course. Well, I took the liberty of asking them for
your address and communicating with you. I prefer you to one of the
men for my pilot; also your little plane rides very comfortably. This
morning is wasted, but the afternoon is still young. I should like to
engage you to take me along the coast as usual. Can you meet me in,
say, half an hour?”

“Well--” Roberta hesitated.

“You will be well paid. You have not connected, as yet, with another
firm, or taken on a passenger?”

“No,” Roberta had to admit. Just then her mother came hurrying in lest
the call be from her husband. She glanced at her daughter and saw the
look of doubt on the young face.

“What is it, dear?” she asked softly. Roberta put the instrument low
and spoke softly.

“Mrs. Pollzoff wants me to take her up this afternoon.”

“Perhaps you will feel more comfortable if you are flying,” her mother
suggested.

“You will meet me?” came the demand in her ear.

“All right,” she agreed.

“In half an hour.”

“Yes.” She hung up the receiver and explained the call to her mother,
but she said nothing about her uneasiness of the day before. The idea
of getting an immediate assignment did make her feel less dispirited,
and when she thought of the previous afternoon, she dismissed it
promptly. “Probably all poppy-cock,” she told herself.

“It will not be difficult flying and if you have been taking her
up every day, she may want to engage you regularly,” Mrs. Langwell
remarked. “I know you will feel better satisfied, although I was
beginning to hope I should have you to myself for a few days.”

“Ever get tired of me, Mummy?”

“Of all the idiotic questions ever asked, that takes the grand prize!”
Mrs. Langwell answered. “Can I help you?”

“Of course you can.”

The getting ready did not take long, and exactly half an hour later,
Nike lighted about a mile from the Flying Field where the girl
Sky-Pilot found her passenger had just arrived. The woman came in a
taxicab, nodded a greeting, paid the driver, then came briskly to the
waiting plane. Her throat was wrapped in a scarf.

“I am glad that you could come,” she said, but the words were stilted,
not especially cordial, and again that inexplicable feeling of
uneasiness swept over Roberta.

“It was good of you to think of me,” she responded, although she
very much wanted to open the throttle and go sailing off, leaving her
passenger to seek another pilot to take her on her mysterious mission.
However, she suppressed the desire and opened the door of the cockpit
instead. Mrs. Pollzoff took her place and quickly adjusted herself,
but it wasn’t until Nike had them high in the air a few moments later
that Roberta noticed the woman had a bit of gauze and a long strip
of courtplaster on her lower jaw. They were sailing over the eastern
corner of the Lurtiss Field and a pang of sadness made Roberta blink
hard as she glanced down at the familiar scene.

There near the end was the long hangar with the pilots’ quarters close
by. The middle of the ground was marked off for landing, runways,
lights and signals. Further along, to one side were the special houses
for special planes; Nike used to occupy one of them, and beyond them
was the huge factory building, nearly all glass, with the executive and
other offices facing the road. If she closed her eyes for a moment,
Roberta could picture every inch of the whole plant. Here and there
were animated-looking objects which she knew were men or women workers;
the bus and one of the company’s cars were racing along like a couple
of toys. Resolutely she turned her face away and applied herself
with determination to the task at hand. Once she noticed that Mrs.
Pollzoff was looking at her in the mirror, but she smiled behind her
goggles. She wasn’t going to let her passenger know how she felt about
being separated from her former work, its varied interests, and happy
companionships.

“Straight west,” Mrs. Pollzoff directed with apparent indifference.

They had been flying but a short time when Roberta became conscious
that a second plane had risen from the take-off grounds she knew so
well, and although she longed to look back, or give her wings the
three-waggle-signal, she held Nike at a respectful angle. The machine
came racing swiftly and once she caught a glimpse of it as it flashed
into her mirror. The pilot was zooming higher than Nike and although
the distance was too great for her to tell who was flying it did
look like Larry’s plane. The sight of it gave her another pang of
loneliness, then, for companionship’s sake, she glanced at the woman
beside her and again noticed the bit of white adhesive which protruded
above the chinstrap of her helmet.

“Wonder what happened to her face,” was her mental question, but the
answer was doubtless any one of a dozen possibilities and she didn’t
waste time in surmises. Mrs. Pollzoff took up the speaking tube and
Roberta attached the end so she could hear what was to be said.

“You have an exceptionally fine plane,” Mrs. Pollzoff remarked.

“I think so,” Roberta answered with a smile.

“Care to sell it?” The girl was so astonished that she gasped.

“No, indeed, I do not,” she answered emphatically.

“I am anxious to purchase a good one, and am willing to pay well for
this,” the woman persisted.

“Not for sale at any price. I wouldn’t part with it,” was the positive
answer, and Mrs. Pollzoff smiled.

“I should have known that you would rather part with an eye. Let us
turn back--I am a little tired today.”

“All right.” Nike climbed and curved widely, and then Roberta noticed
two planes in the air, one coming up from the south, and the other
rushing north. They were both going at a swift speed and it struck the
girl pilot that this was the first time she had been out with Mrs.
Pollzoff that planes had come anywhere near them. It also flashed
through her mind that perhaps the presence of the flyers was the reason
for her passenger’s sudden weariness, but as far as she could tell the
woman was not conscious of their presence in the air. Once or twice she
glanced indifferently at the water, then, when they were soaring in
fine style over Long Island, the field glasses were put in their case.

“Where shall I take you?” Roberta asked.

“To the Huntington depot, or as near as you can.”

“It’s some distance from the railroad.”

“I can get a lift.”

Presently they were gliding to earth, but before she alighted Mrs.
Pollzoff turned again to her pilot. “You do not care to change your
mind about selling your plane?”

“Nike isn’t for sale!”

“Very well. I have some work, observation work which will take me
greater distances. It is something in which my husband was interested,
a theory of his; he left copious notes, but they are unfinished and I
am occupying myself in trying to complete his work.” Her voice sounded
weary and Roberta suddenly felt sorry for her.

“It is fine that you can carry on for him,” she said.

“I suppose so. The question is, can you accompany me on a more or
less erratic course for about ten days or two weeks? Your plane is
especially adapted for my purpose; it is comfortable and durable. I
have no license, so could not fly it even if I purchased it, so, if I
can hire you both, that will answer nicely.”

“Well, I--”

“You will be well paid--”

“I wasn’t thinking of the money,” Roberta said hastily. “I’ll have to
talk it over with Dad and Mother. What shall I tell them I am expected
to do?”

“Nothing more than you have been doing,” she answered with a smile.
“I’ll call your home tomorrow evening and you can give me your answer.”




CHAPTER IV

A STARTLING DISCOVERY


Flying home at a good speed Roberta considered the offer she had just
received and tried to decide whether or not she cared to accept it.
Today was the first time since they had started the trips together that
her passenger had showed any signs of being especially companionable
and her sadness had instantly aroused the young pilot’s sympathy,
but she was still not attracted by the woman; in fact she found an
indefinable something which she positively disliked. The girl realized
that Mrs. Pollzoff’s attention was entirely absorbed with her own
project and efforts to carry on her husband’s work; also that while
flying her own mind must be fully occupied with her job; but the
taciturnity of the woman seemed more than concentration on her affairs,
whatever they were. There was something hard in her expression and her
jaw set more like an over-bearing man’s than a woman’s.

Thinking of the jaw the girl wondered about the strip of plaster which
evidently protected some wound, and she tried to figure what it might
be. This persistence of her mind in going back to the injured feature
made Roberta impatient with herself; it seemed to her that she was
trying to find out something which was both unimportant and none of
her business. Anyone might get a bump, a bruise, a cut, or an insect
bite on her face, and keeping it covered was nothing more than ordinary
common sense, especially when her face might be exposed to the force of
the wind while they were flying.

Glancing at her watch she calculated that she would reach home about
the same time her father did and they could talk the matter over, but
when she thought of her uneasiness regarding her prospective employer
she realized that she really had nothing tangible to tell him. There
wasn’t a thing that Mrs. Pollzoff had said or done which could be used
as an excuse for refusing the offer. By that time Nike was near their
village, so Roberta throttled the engine and glided down close to the
hangar entrance, which was open to admit her, for Mrs. Langwell had
heard the familiar roar in the heavens, shut off the alarm and shoved
the entrance wide.

“Thanks, Mummy,” Roberta called as she rode past. Presently she was out
of the cock-pit, but before the two reached the veranda, Mr. Langwell’s
car came rolling up the drive.

“Hello, children,” he shouted cheerfully. The auto was quickly put in
its own section of the old barn and he joined them.

“Hear anything from the sheriff?” Roberta inquired first thing.

“Not much. The license of the car is registered under the name of
Pollzoff, a woman, but that is as much as I got--”

“Pollzoff?” Roberta exclaimed in amazement, then again into her mind
leaped the memory of that scar on her cheek.

“Yes. Howard said he’d drop in this evening and give us further
details, if there are any.”

“Why, Dad, that’s the name of the woman I was taking along the coast. I
took her again this afternoon.”

“You did!”

“And today she had a piece of tape on her chin, as if it had been hurt
in some way.”

“Humph. Well, my dear, it seems hardly possible that the woman would
come herself and try to take your plane.”

“Do you think Dad hit her with some of that shot?” Mrs. Langwell asked
quickly.

“I don’t know, Mummy. That piece of tape has been on my mind all
afternoon; I couldn’t keep from wondering about it,” Roberta answered,
then went on, “She wants me to take her on a trip.”

“Well, we’ll certainly look into the lady’s reputation before you do
anything of that kind,” Dad declared positively. “Suppose we take a run
down to Howard’s office and talk it over with him--”

“Suppose you come in and eat your dinner before it is spoiled,” Mrs.
Langwell interrupted. “You can go later, or telephone him.”

“Guess you’re right,” Dad grinned. “I’m hollow as a bass drum and there
is no such desperate rush about the matter.” The startling discovery
formed the chief topic of conversation during the meal.

“The name is an unusual one but there may be others in the country,”
Mrs. Langwell remarked. “But it does seem odd that it should be her car
and that she should have a wound of some kind on her face this morning.”

“It’s all circumstantial,” Mr. Langwell added. “Did she usually come to
the flying field in a taxi?”

“No, she came in her own car. I didn’t think anything about the taxi
today, but she might have used that because she was uncertain where
we would land. We’ve come down in a different place every time I have
taken her,” Roberta explained.

“Still, I can’t think that she herself would try to appropriate your
plane. She has, as I understand it, limitless money,” Dad said.

“That’s what I heard at the office,” Roberta admitted.

“How did the woman impress you?” Mrs. Langwell asked.

“Not very favorably,” the girl admitted. “But when I tried to reason it
out, I had nothing really to dislike her for.”

“That sounds to me like Howard’s car,” said Dad as a machine came up
the drive. He raised himself in his chair and looked out of the window.
“It’s the sheriff. We’ll have a talk with him.” Presently the officer
was admitted but his expression was one of disappointment.

“We haven’t accomplished a thing in discovering those thieves, Mr.
Langwell,” he began. “The machine belongs to a Mrs. Pollzoff, all
right, and it was found in Delaware on a side road late this afternoon.
Probably been abandoned.”

“Oh.”

“The owner isn’t a bit of help, for she reported her car missing late
yesterday afternoon. She said she had been doing some flying, then
drove into town to keep an appointment in a beauty parlor. When she was
fixed up and came out to go home, the limousine was gone. She reported
it right away, and as I said before, it was discovered today.”

“Oh. Did you see her?”

“No. There wasn’t any use in doing that. Whoever had been driving was
mighty careless for it was covered with mud from stem to stern. You hit
one of the fellows, and I figure they went as fast and as far as they
could, then stopped to get the wound dressed. The police are making
inquiries among the doctors hereabout trying to find one who had a late
call to attend to a split-open jaw. I’ll meander along, I promised the
wife I’d take her to the movies tonight. Sorry there isn’t anything
better to report.”

“Thank you for coming in and telling us. After all, no one was hurt and
the planes are safe,” said Mrs. Langwell.

“That’s right,” Dad added. “And I’ve had a fine alarm system put on
the hangar, so if anyone comes prowling around again, he will wake the
world.”

“Good thing. Well, good-bye.” The sheriff drove off and the family
returned to the unfinished meal. All of them were mighty sober.

“Just goes to show how perfectly damning circumstantial evidence can
be, doesn’t it? Here’s a woman, one who knows flying, whose face has
been injured in some way unknown, and whose car is seen parked near
here for the robber’s getaway. You know, if she hadn’t reported the
limousine missing things might have been very unpleasant for her,” Dad
remarked thoughtfully.

“And she is probably doing exactly what she says--just trying to carry
on her husband’s unfinished work. Don’t you think it will be all right
for me to tell her I’ll take her on the trip, Dad? I feel sort of
ashamed of myself for being so suspicious of everything.”

“Guess it would, dear. Suppose I make a few judicial inquiries to be
on the safe side. She isn’t to call up before tomorrow evening, and by
that time I can know a little about her,” he replied.

“That’s a good idea,” Mrs. Langwell agreed, so it was left that way.

“How about taking my family to the movies?” Dad proposed, and they
accepted without a dissenting vote.

The evening was spent delightfully, and the next afternoon Mr. Langwell
called up from the city to inform his daughter that as far as it was
possible to learn, Mrs. Pollzoff was above reproach. She had a great
deal of money, a part of which she had made herself by first class
business investments, and the rest she had secured when she sold her
husband’s fur business. She had a reputation for being quiet and
conservative, considerate of her employees and active on several very
worth-while philanthropic boards. So Roberta packed a bag for the trip
and during the remainder of the time, attended to giving Nike a good
inspection.

“Wish I could drop down on the field and give her to one of the
mechanics to fix up,” she said regretfully. She meant that there
was not time to do it, not that she felt she couldn’t ask for the
accommodation, for she was positive that the courtesy would be extended
to her cordially. She had nearly finished the task when her mother
called, and when she went to answer the telephone, found it was Mrs.
Pollzoff.

“I have called for your answer, Miss Langwell,” came the rich voice.

“If you could see my suitcase and the way I have been working on the
plane, you would know it,” Roberta said as pleasantly as she possibly
could.

“Then you will go.”

“Very glad to,” she replied.

“Meet me tomorrow at Elizabeth. I shall be there at eleven o’clock. Is
that too early?”

“Not at all,” Roberta replied. They talked a few moments longer about
the meeting place.

“I presume you will fetch a warm coat.”

“Oh, yes, I have it all ready. Thank you.” She hung up the receiver and
although she was trying hard to feel glad about the prospect before
her, she wished heartily that she had said no, or that she could have
said she had other work to do. “I’m a little idiot,” she told herself,
and then went back to the plane to finish getting it ready.

The next morning at a few minutes before eleven, Nike brought her out
of a lower-sky near the New Jersey town and a few minutes later, Mrs.
Pollzoff drove up in her own car. Roberta noticed that its fender had
been bent, and when the woman alighted, she stopped a moment to speak
to the chauffeur about having repairs made. He listened respectfully,
then transferred her luggage to the waiting Nike, where he assisted in
storing it safely.

While these final preparations were going on, Roberta heard a plane
flying so low that she glanced up to see if the machine was coming down
with its engine running, but she decided that the pilot must have had
some difficulty in the take-off. He was climbing rather slowly, and she
wondered if he was an inexperienced amateur in trouble or showing off
to admiring friends who might be watching him.

“Is that all, Madame?” the chauffeur asked.

“Yes, thank you, that is all. We are quite properly packed, I think,
Miss Langwell, but you had better make sure.” Roberta glanced at the
tiny baggage compartment, which was certainly well filled, and nodded.
“Then we can start as soon as you are ready.”

“I am ready now,” Roberta told her. Mrs. Pollzoff took her place,
adjusted straps and chute, nodded to the chauffeur, who was already
back in the battered limousine, then glanced at the sky.

“Go south, toward Florida, about twelve miles out. The weather looks
a little doubtful, we may as well have the cover over our heads,” she
said.

“All right.” Roberta slid the top into place and made it secure,
then assuring herself that she could start without cutting anyone in
two with the propeller, she opened the throttle. The engine roared,
Nike moved forward swiftly, lifted thirty feet further along, then
rose majestically into the air. They zoomed, circled in wide loops,
ascending in spirals, and at five thousand feet, leveled off. Roberta
set the plane’s nose toward the Atlantic, for she knew that her
passenger preferred to travel above the water rather than the land.
Ten minutes later the shore line was almost completely hidden by the
haze which was lowering over the coast. Straight east they flew, only
once seeing another plane. It was a small one which came alongside in
a friendly fashion, but the distance was too great for the girl to see
who was at the controls. Nike was twenty miles out when Mrs. Pollzoff
indicated that she wanted to turn south, and in a moment that was
accomplished. The sky did not look as threatening as it had from the
shore and Roberta hoped that if a storm was brewing, she was going to
get away from it.

They had been traveling about an hour when Mrs. Pollzoff got a book
out and opened it, preparing to read. Roberta switched the light
on so she could see better, and the woman glanced at the control
board, seemed to make a mental calculation of the figures and dials,
nodded, and then bent again over her reading. It wasn’t anything more
suspicious than a mystery story and for the next half hour the woman
did not lift her head again. She seemed perfectly indifferent to
everything but the story. The little plane that had followed them out
had fallen behind and lower, and the girl Sky-pilot judged that its
speed was not very great. She wished it would come alongside because it
is always rather jolly riding with another machine in the air. In less
than an hour it had been left far behind.

Early in the evening Nike glided down at Charleston, W. Virginia, where
Mrs. Pollzoff had arranged for refueling and accommodations for the
night at a small hostelry near the flying field. They took a cab to the
hotel, which was an interesting old place, with a long low-ceilinged
dining room. The apartment was a comfortable one with three rooms and
bath and while they were refreshing themselves the woman broke the
silence.

“As a companionable person I am not a great success, Miss Langwell.
Tonight I am a bit fatigued and I think I shall have dinner sent up,
but if you have never been in this place and are not too tired, I am
sure that you will enjoy the atmosphere of downstairs. This house used
to be patronized by members of Virginia’s old families, and a few still
cling to it; you may find it interesting.”

“Thank you, I believe I shall, but I will be up early. Are you planning
to leave in the morning?” Roberta asked.

“I do not know. It depends upon how I feel and what the weather looks
like. I shall retire as soon as I have finished dinner,” Mrs. Pollzoff
answered. With her helmet off the gauze and tape completely covered
the wound on her chin, and when she thought of her former suspicions,
the girl Sky-pilot wanted to apologize for her stupid idea that her
employer could possibly have been in any way connected with the
attempted theft of Nike. She hurried with her dressing, and before she
was ready, the waiter appeared with the tray.

“Anything I can do?” Roberta asked.

“Not a thing, thank you. Take your key, for I shall probably be asleep
by the time you return.”

“I have it. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Roberta made her way along the winding hall of the old house and
decided that the house was one of those which had been built a good
many years ago with later wings and additions. Twice she had to step
down a couple of steps, and once around a sharp corner she had to go
up three. However, she had no difficulty in getting to the main floor,
which was cheery with old fashioned chandeliers that had yards of long
crystals dangling so that the light sparkled through them, and the
slightest breeze, or current of air passing set them tinkling merrily.
Presently she was in the dining room and a very courteous old colored
man, who looked as if he had stepped out of a picture of an ancient
plantation home before the Civil war, showed her to a table from which
she got an excellent view of the whole room.

Most of the tables were occupied, for it was late, but a few others
came in when she was eating her first course. She noticed a party of
young people, three men and two girls, who looked as if they were bound
for a party of some kind, and when they were seated they made the place
ring with their fun. They were rather a contrast from the other diners,
but they were not boisterous nor ill-bred with their jollification.

“Pardon me, isn’t this Miss Langwell!” It was a delightful Southern
drawl and Roberta looked up into the eyes of Mr. Powell, a young man
who had taken the flying course under Mr. Wallace at Lurtiss Field, and
whom she had helped pass his exams.

“Mr. Powell, how do you do?”

“Fine, Miss Langwell, and I am mighty glad to see you in our midst. I
told my friends that I am going to ask you to join us; you look as if
you are alone,” Mr. Powell announced cheerfully. “Don’t turn me down,
for you can see we are desperately in need of another girl; especially
since the two you see are my sisters.” Roberta glanced at the other
table and saw one of the girls coming toward her.

“How do you do, Miss Langwell,” she greeted. “How delightful meeting
you here. My brother has spoken of you often; I believe you taught him
colors when he was taking his course in aviation. Please join us; we
will be very pleased to have you.”

“This is Helen, Miss Langwell. I am sure you cannot refuse her; no one
ever does,” the young man insisted, so Roberta accepted the cordial
invitation and soon was one of the party. She was also introduced to
Evelyn Powell and their cousins, Alton Manwell and Edward Crawford.
There was no lack of sincerity and cordiality in their acceptance
of the stranger, and as they were every one of them interested in
aviation, they had no end of things to talk about.

“We are going to an amateur show and you must come along,” Miss Powell
informed the guest.

“We were to have another girl with us, but she had to break her
engagement, so her ticket will not be wasted, and we shall have the
pleasure of your company,” Mr. Crawford added.

“It’s rather a queer performance. You may be bored to death. Confirmed
bachelor, Mark Anthony by name, but no relation to the ancient Cleo.
He has a wonderful house, full of everything from every place in the
world, and every once in a while he gives parties,” Evelyn chatted.

“I didn’t bring anything very party-like to wear,” Roberta started to
object, but they paid no attention to that.

“You look stunning and Helen has an extra scarf in the car. It will
make you look more like a million dollars than you do,” insisted
Evelyn, so the matter was settled.

Roberta had been penned up in a cock-pit the greater part of the day,
and a bit of fun was more than welcome. When the dinner was finished,
the six of them were driven to the home of the confirmed bachelor and
before his house they saw dozens of other cars lined up on both sides
of the drive. They were led up the wide marble stairway, into a huge
reception hall, where Roberta caught a glimpse of a very tall man
who looked marvelously well in his evening clothes and was evidently
the host. He was greeting the new arrivals pleasantly, and near him,
facing the door they were entering, was an elegantly dressed woman, who
glanced their way but was immediately shut off from Roberta’s vision.
But the one glance startled Roberta. It was Mrs. Pollzoff.

“She must have felt better after she finished dinner,” Roberta
remarked to herself, but when she reached her host’s side, there was no
sign of her employer, but she did not think anything of that, for the
rooms were crowded.




CHAPTER V

A QUEER MYSTERY


When the performance was over and the guests were exclaiming about the
charming entertainment they had seen, thanking Mr. Anthony for giving
them such a delightful evening, and later taking their departure,
Roberta glanced about for Mrs. Pollzoff, but did not see her. During
the entertainment the rooms had been darkened except about the stage,
so the girl Sky-pilot thought nothing of missing her employer then, but
when the whole place was brilliantly lighted and the assembly moving
somewhat like a narrow reception line, it seemed odd that the woman was
nowhere in sight. With Miss Powell and her party, Roberta also thanked
her host.

“I am very happy if my efforts have given such a charming stranger
in our city an hour’s pleasure,” Mr. Anthony told her, speaking as if
she were the only person in the room and had his undivided attention.
Just then others came up, so she passed on with an impression that the
gentleman, being a true Southerner, could make himself very agreeable.

“Anthony should be in the Diplomatic service,” young Powell remarked
when they were all in the car again.

“He always gives one a feeling that his only interest in life is to
serve one,” Helen added. “I am so glad that you could come with us,
Miss Langwell. If you are going to be in Charleston tomorrow, I shall
be delighted to take you about a bit.”

“That is something I will not know until tomorrow,” Roberta told her.
“You have been most kind. I should have had rather a dull evening had I
not met you.”

“Here we are at your hotel. Hope you can stay over,” Powell said as he
helped her out. She bade the others good night, thanked them again,
then the young aviator saw her safely to the elevator. “I’ll be on hand
to help entertain you if you do not fly away.”

Up in her own room, when Roberta switched on the light she noticed
that the door between the two bedrooms was closed. She listened for
a sound of anyone moving about, but the place was as still as if it
was deserted. Before retiring, there was a note to be written to the
family at home, and in it she told of the lovely old hotel with its
aristocratic guests, the meeting with Powell and his sisters, the trip
to Mr. Anthony’s, and the fact that Mrs. Pollzoff was also there.
Finally, adding no end of love for them all, she sealed the envelope,
then went down the hall to the mail chute. When she returned there was
still no sound from the other room and as she undressed, she tried
to figure out why the woman had not nodded to her, and why she had
disappeared like the foam on a ginger ale.

“Here I am imagining things about her again,” she scolded mentally.
“She probably knows Mr. Anthony and he persuaded her to come for a
little while, then she went home and is now in bed asleep.”

With this very logical conclusion she got into her own bed, switched
off the light and immediately fell asleep, but she spent the night
dreaming of vain efforts to fly away from Mrs. Pollzoff and the
charming Mr. Anthony, who kept bobbing up, like a Jack-in-the-box, just
when she was sure that she had left him behind, nor did she manage
to evade the bachelor until she flew off over the North Pole. It was
snowing, she thought, and she shivered as she brought the plane down,
but instead of stopping, Nike dropped, and dropped and dropped until
at last she struggled so hard to right it that she woke herself up.
Morning had not put in an appearance, but the night had turned cooler
and she had kicked off the covers, so with a sigh of relief that it was
only a dream, she turned over and enjoyed a more restful sleep.

When she awakened she heard someone moving in the other room and
guessed that Mrs. Pollzoff was already stirring. As the time had not
been set for their departure, Roberta lost no time in dressing, and
when she was finished, sure that her employer was up, she knocked at
the door, but to her surprise received no answer. She tried again,
without success, then someone tapped at her own door. It proved to be
the maid who told her that word had been left that the woman was not
to be disturbed, that she wished to sleep late. This was certainly
puzzling, for the girl was positive that she had heard movements in the
other room.

“Well, if she wants to take another snooze it’s her own business. I
wonder why in the dickens everything she does makes me uneasy?” she
said to herself, and then prepared to go to breakfast. She took her key
with her, and when she stepped out into the hall she was startled to
see Mr. Anthony coming down the hall to Mrs. Pollzoff’s door. If the
man recognized her, he gave no sign of it, but glancing at the number,
turned and went in the opposite direction as if he had made a mistake
in the room. Again the feeling of uneasiness came over Roberta and she
simply could not shake it off. At the desk downstairs she asked if her
employer had left any word regarding when she intended to check out,
and the clerk answered in the negative.

“Mrs. Pollzoff did not say when she is leaving, but she leases that
apartment by the year,” he explained obligingly.

Roberta went in to breakfast and when she had finished she was called
to the telephone. It proved to be young Powell who wanted to know if
she was staying in town but she couldn’t give him any information. “I
do not expect to leave right away,” she said, and then explained the
situation.

“Suppose Helen and I come up and in case you are not leaving soon we
can bat around together?”

“That’s mighty nice of you. I should be very glad to see you.” It did
not take the two Powells long to get there, and the three sought a
quiet corner in the rambling old lobby.

“By the way, you have not said why you are here,” Powell remarked.

“Why, Brother, what an impudent question,” Helen protested.

“That’s all right between aviators,” he laughed.

“Of course it is,” Roberta defended him quickly. “I really can not
tell you why I came nor whither I go. I might say I came hither from
thither and I am going hence; why do I not know.”

“Sounds mysterious. What sort of bird is this Mrs. Pollzoff?” Powell
inquired.

“She seems perfectly all right,” was the answer.

“Why the seems--”

“Robert,” Helen objected.

“I have a queer sort of feeling about her; I can’t explain it. Last
night she was at Mr. Anthony’s but I only caught a glimpse of her, and
this morning--” She broke off and flushed. “I have to admit that I am
making a whole mountain range out of less than an ant hill, but the
truth is, every simple thing she does seems mysterious. Guess I have
been developing nerves.”

“Tell me about it,” Robert urged quietly. “If it’s nerves, going over
the facts will show them up in their true light and you’ll feel better.
We all get to a point where things do not seem right.”

“Perhaps it would be a good idea,” she admitted, then told him of
her relations with Mrs. Pollzoff, leaving out nothing, not even the
attempted theft of Nike.

“Humph,” Powell grunted. “There really isn’t a thing alarming in what
you have told me, Roberta, but just the same, even though our reasons
insist that everything is hunky--when you get a hunch as strong as the
one you have, don’t disregard it, that’s my motto. I believe aviators
have a sort of sixth sense that warns them, or tries to, and it’s
always a safe bet to pay strict attention. I’ve heard other flyers say
the same thing, so, if I were you, I’d watch my step mighty carefully.”

“Don’t make her feel worse than she does,” Helen urged.

“I’m not trying to; just want her to take every advantage of the
faculty she has and not disregard a warning, even if it seems a foolish
one. Here’s our number and address; keep in touch with us and if
anything comes up, get into communication with us right away.” He took
out his card and wrote the telephone number on it.

“We will all be happy to assist you in any way,” Helen added.

“Thank you so much.”

“Miss Langwell, Miss Langwell,” called a page.

“I am Miss Langwell,” Roberta told him.

“Mrs. Pollzoff would like you to go up,” he told her.

“All right. I’ll say so-long for now, and thank you so much.”

“Hope we can see you again before you leave,” Helen said, and just then
they saw Mark Anthony strolling leisurely through the lobby.

“Humph,” grunted Powell, “I never saw him here before.”

“Isn’t he an Old Family?” Roberta asked mischievously.

“No, he’s a New Family; rotten with money, so he gets and does anything
he wants to. Glad to have seen you, even for a little while.”

Roberta took the card, then hurried to the elevator and presently
came to her own room. The connecting door was open, so she went in
immediately and found Mrs. Pollzoff in negligee, the wound on her chin
covered with adhesive tape. A waiter had left a tray a few moments
before and the woman was preparing to eat her breakfast.

“Did you have a good night?” she asked politely.

“Very pleasant,” Roberta answered. “I met an old friend, Robert Powell,
and his sisters at dinner and they took me to a theatrical at Mr.
Anthony’s home.”

“Then you were not bored with Charleston. I do not care for the place
and rarely go out. The people seem to me excessively stupid, and the
city, most of it, antiquated. Did you have breakfast?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“The maid said you had gone down, so I ordered only one. I had a
wretched night, thought I should never get to sleep, but when I did I
made up for it by not waking until fifteen minutes ago,” Mrs. Pollzoff
said and her statements startled the girl.

Roberta wondered if the woman was claiming that she had not left
the room since they parted the evening before, but she refrained
from saying anything more about the theatricals. She was absolutely
convinced that it could have been no one else who was standing beside
Mr. Anthony as he received his guests, and she was also convinced that
her employer had been up that morning before she herself was awake. Why
the woman should deliberately lie over anything so trivial made Roberta
recall Powell’s warning to watch her step, and, casting logic aside,
she determined to pay heed to what he had said.

“I am sorry you did not have a more comfortable night,” she replied,
then added, “The page said you wanted me.”

“Yes. I wanted to be sure that you had breakfasted and to tell you that
we will leave here about one o’clock, so have your lunch before you go,
and if you want to do any errands, you can,” Mrs. Pollzoff said.

“Guess I haven’t much in the way of errands but I’ll tell them to
have--”

“I have already notified them to have the plane in readiness.”

“Then I shall not need to bother. I see there is a store near the
hotel; I’ll run up there and get some handkerchiefs. I came away
without a good supply,” Roberta told her, then, as the woman seemed to
have nothing more to say, she returned to the lobby very uneasy in mind.

For less than two pins Roberta would have told her employer that she
was returning home at once, but such an act appeared more foolhardy
than cautious. It took only a few minutes to get the handkerchiefs she
required, then she saw attractive cards of the city, and stationery.
On the impulse of the moment she bought paper and envelope and wrote
a hasty note to Robert Powell, telling him that she was leaving in a
couple of hours, the place where Nike had been left, and expressing a
wish that if he had his own plane and could come waggling his wings
to her as they had in the days when they were both learning to fly
she would feel easier. She added a word of thanks to his sister, then
signed her name, but after that she put in the fact that Mrs. Pollzoff
had said she was in her room all night--as if she had not been to Mr.
Anthony’s.

  “_I know I’m awfully silly, but at the next landing I am going to
  resign from the job.

  “Sincerely yours,
  Roberta Langwell._”

“Can I get a messenger to deliver this?” she asked the woman who had
been serving her.

“I’ll take it, lady,” a small boy offered, so at a nod from the woman
she gave him a coin and made sure that he knew where to go. “Aw, that
isn’t far away,” he said scornfully, and tucking it into his pocket, he
raced off with the letter. As soon as he had gone, Roberta wished she
had not been so silly as to tell Robert Powell such a trivial matter.
After paying for her purchases she returned to the lobby where she
sat at one of the desks, wrote a note and sent cards to the family.
That finished, she ate her lunch in the dining room, but felt so
uncomfortable that she didn’t enjoy it at all.

Promptly at one o’clock they left the hotel in one of its own buses and
drove quickly to the small flying field where they found Nike already
wheeled out of the hangar. Although a mechanic was beside the plane,
the girl Sky-Pilot took time to assure herself that everything was as
it should be, while Mrs. Pollzoff took her place in the cock-pit.

“I went over everything, Miss,” the mechanic told her.

“Thank you, I know you did, but where I learned to fly one of the
things they stressed was to be positive yourself that things were all
right. You certainly did a good job and you put in a full supply of
gas.”

“Those were orders,” he told her. She climbed to her own place, and
when at last all was as it should be, she nodded to him, and he gave
them a start, not that he needed to, for Nike was a self starter in
every way; perfectly capable of taking off without assistance. The chap
stood watching the plane with keen admiration, and when she lifted,
Roberta waved him a farewell.

Quickly they climbed to three thousand feet, then Mrs. Pollzoff
signaled that it was high enough. She picked up the speaking tube and
Roberta listened, for the woman never gave her directions until they
were started.

“Turn in a half circle, then go straight northwest until I tell you to
change the course or come down,” she said. Nike promptly did the turn
and then leveled off, her nose pointing the route indicated. Roberta
was surprised, for they were going inland instead of over the water as
usual. Glancing at her chart she reckoned that the course would take
her across the United States into the southwestern part of Canada,
provided they continued long enough. Mrs. Pollzoff sat watching the
control board for a few minutes, then proceeded to produce another book
and buried herself in its pages.

“I believe that her saying she is carrying on some work started by her
husband is just so much bologna. We haven’t done a blooming thing since
we started--except fly--and she certainly isn’t accomplishing anything
while she’s reading a mystery story. That’s that. And I’m dropping out
of the business at the next stop--that is more of that,” was the girl’s
mental resolve, and she set her lips in a firm line to emphasize her
resolution.

They had been in the air less than ten minutes, when suddenly, out of
the sky to the right, and higher than Nike was flying, swept a shining
new plane, its wings waggling furiously. Roberta’s heart gave a great
leap, and she responded, but not quite so vigorously as Powell. His
plane swooped down across her path and as it flashed by she could see
that he was not alone. Whoever was in the cock-pit with him waved a
gloved hand, and Roberta replied to that also. Not changing her course
by a hair, Nike roared steadily on, the other plane circled about her
once, then with a final waggle, zoomed up, spiraled, and then turned
back. The girl Sky-Pilot smiled as her friends disappeared, then she
happened to look into the mirror and saw that Mrs. Pollzoff had been
watching the performance with an interest which was none too kindly.

“Who are they?” she snapped.

“Robert Powell and his sister,” Roberta told her. “The people I met
last night.” They were using the telephone.

“How do they happen to be here when we start?” For an instant Roberta
was going to tell her the truth, that she had sent word she was leaving
and Powell had come to see her off, but his warning to “watch her step”
flashed through her mind.

“I do not know how they happen to be around,” she answered, which
was true enough. “Guess he saw the plane go up and came over to say
goodbye in case it was Nike.” There was a peculiarly hard look in Mrs.
Pollzoff’s eyes during the explanation, and she looked steadily at her
pilot for several seconds, then dropped her eyes back to her book.




CHAPTER VI

KIDNAPED


As Roberta attended strictly to her business she became thoroughly
convinced that her “hunch” regarding her employer was well worth
heeding; that the woman’s mission was not only mysterious and
confusing, but that it was an enterprise with which she did not care
to be associated a minute longer than that she could possibly help.
Following the course set, going higher when the country beneath them
demanded it, or lower as permitted, she thought things out carefully.
Nike did not carry gas enough to take her back to Long Island, but
she had money enough with her to drop down onto a landing field and
purchase more; also she knew that even if she hadn’t the cash she could
give them a draft on her bank in New York if they were not willing to
accept a check.

Carefully studying the chart, which she knew almost by heart anyway,
she realized that the route they were following was, for the most part,
well out of the usual air lines, but there were several places where
she would fly parallel or across those laid out. Roberta thought of the
towns and cities over which they would pass, calculated their location
and which ones she would be near early in the evening, when the woman
beside her would probably order a landing. They had been flying nearly
three hours when Mrs. Pollzoff glanced up at the speedometer.

“I wish that you would go a little faster,” she directed, so the Girl
Sky-Pilot nodded and opened up a bit wider, but she did not put on full
speed. They had been averaging eighty miles an hour, so she increased
it to ninety-five, which meant that when conditions permitted she was
doing more, and less when the air and country were not so favorable.
Another hour passed and Roberta began to wonder when they were to come
down, but Mrs. Pollzoff still seemed absorbed in her book, although
Roberta was positive that she was not so intent as she was trying to
pretend.

Glancing at the sky, Roberta saw, far ahead, a dark cloud rising in
the west which looked as if it might cause them trouble in the course
of a few hours, but she paid little attention to it for she figured
they would have landed before the storm reached them, or they reached
it. To get a better view of the world, she gradually increased her
height a thousand feet. Roaring swiftly along she saw, far ahead of
them, a large plane which looked like one which carried passengers, and
another time, when her eyes rested a moment on the mirror, she saw a
small plane behind them. This looked like an ordinary machine with one
passenger--or perhaps no one but its pilot, and while she watched the
tiny speck, it dropped lower and out of her range of vision.

Studying the chart again, without seeming to do more than observe
the various controls the girl Sky-Pilot looked for the nearest flying
field. In another hour they would be over Wisconsin, for the end of
Lake Michigan was tossing beneath them, and on its rough surface raced
a huge speed boat across the great body in exactly the same direction
that Nike was flying a mile above. The water was thickly dotted with
numerous boats, large and small, but this little one, which looked no
bigger than a dark dot with a long foamy tail, attracted the girl’s
attention because of its speed. Nike soon left it behind, however.
Glancing about the horizon, she saw that they were well away from the
storm, but she anticipated bad weather for the following day. A bit
later, listening to the radio reports, this calculation of hers was
confirmed by the Bureau from Washington.

From time to time Mrs. Pollzoff glanced up, studied the dials, chart
and the whole array, for even if she hadn’t qualified for a license,
and could not pilot a plane, it was not because she did not thoroughly
understand every bit of flying. She just happened to be one of the
persons whose knowledge on the subject was not sufficient to make her
act wisely at all times in any emergency. Even though she never asked
to carry a passenger, wanted nothing more than to fly herself, a plane
in the air piloted by a man or woman who might behave erratically, was
a menace to the world below. She might suddenly crash into a building,
come down with a blazing machine in a dry forest and start a fire which
would do countless dollars worth of damage, or she might drop on a gas
tank and blow the whole vicinity to tooth-picks.

Suddenly, as Roberta visualized the chart she realized that it would
not be very long, according to the course they were following and the
speed they were going, before Nike crossed the border into Canada. She
would be on foreign soil without the usual curtsy to the Dominion,
also they were getting further and further away from Long Island and
her own home. If she was not going to continue the trip, why not stop
now? As a matter of fact, why had she come so far at all; why hadn’t
she dropped down a couple of hours ago and informed Mrs. Pollzoff that
she was not going on, land that lady wherever she wanted to be landed,
then go on east? Silently scolding herself for her stupidity, the girl
decided that if Mrs. Pollzoff did not order a descent within the next
few minutes, Nike would make a landing without it. As if she rather
suspected something of what was going on in her companion’s mind, Mrs.
Pollzoff closed her book, looked about at the sun, which had almost
set, then taking a package from under the seat, proceeded to open it.
To Roberta’s surprise it contained food; it seemed enough for several
generous meals, including thermos bottles with hot and cold drinks.

“We will have something to eat in the air,” the woman announced quite
casually, but there was something deadly in her tone. However, Roberta
had herself well in hand and she answered firmly.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Pollzoff, but I am going down,” she answered.

“Why?” the woman asked quietly.

“We need gas for one thing--”

“Not yet,” Mrs. Pollzoff interrupted.

“I have been at the controls steadily and I do not believe that it
would be safe for me to continue much longer without a rest and a
proper meal.”

“You will find everything that you can possibly get in a proper meal
anywhere,” Mrs. Pollzoff told her coolly, and added, “And as for a
rest, I’ll relieve you.”

“I cannot permit that,” Roberta answered. “Without a license you could
not fly and my plane is different from the usual ones; I would rather
not have anyone who is not accustomed to it try to operate it.”

“Well, have something to eat,” Mrs. Pollzoff said wearily. “It is still
quite light. When I was learning to fly I once saw three sunsets. I’d
very much like to get at least one more view of the sun tonight. Zoom
Nike up high so that we will have a magnificent view to remember when
we go to sleep tonight.”

“All right,” Roberta agreed with great relief. She was glad there was
no argument and she resolved that she would not tell her employer she
could not go on until they were safely landed. So that there was no
danger of getting over into Canada, she spiraled as she climbed and
decreased the plane’s speed.

“Should you like milk, tea or coffee to drink?” Mrs. Pollzoff asked as
she arranged the food, which certainly looked appetizing, especially
since Roberta had eaten almost no lunch.

“Tea, if it has plenty of milk and not too strong.”

“Sugar, how many lumps?”

“A small one, thank you.” The drinks were poured into deep paper cups
which were half-filled carefully to prevent spilling. Nike was leveled,
her dials and controls set so that her pilot could relax a bit and
enjoy the meal. It was not long before they saw the sun again in all
its splendor, and watched a second setting, which was certainly well
worth waiting for because the air was clear and the countless brilliant
rays, were flung fan-like from the rim of the horizon.

“Cake or pie, or will you have another sandwich?” Mrs. Pollzoff asked a
bit later.

“Cake, it sounds simpler to consume,” Roberta laughed. One simply
couldn’t help feeling secure, riding like a part of the gorgeous
spectacle, and the girl wondered if she hadn’t been premature in her
decision to abandon her employer.

“I’ll fill your cup again.”

“Only half,” Roberta said hastily.

“Cannot measure it,” Mrs. Pollzoff smiled and her pilot thought if she
were only as pleasant all of the time they might go on forever.

“Thank you. I do feel better. Guess I did not realize how hungry I
was,” Roberta told her.

“Didn’t you have anything to eat before you left the hotel?”

“Just a salad, but I wasn’t hungry then. This has tasted very good,
every bit of it.”

“Sure you have had enough?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“You still have a tank of gas, haven’t you?” Mrs. Pollzoff consulted
the indicator to see how much was in the plane.

“Yes, but I believe we had better get down soon because we are getting
away from towns and even farms. We do not want to be stranded in the
open all night,” Roberta consulted the chart.

“Very true. Have you done any night flying?”

“Oh yes, but not any oftener than I could help. Of course there are
a great many guides and riding under the stars is mighty attractive
but one never can tell what might happen; storms come up suddenly, and
mountains have a disconcerting habit of bobbing in front of a plane
when it is least desirable.” They talked through the telephone and
finally Roberta decided upon the best place for their landing, turned
sharply off the course toward the southeast.

“Why do you go back?” Mrs. Pollzoff asked her.

“We will get better landing accommodations; at least, I know the field
and I am sure of it,” the girl answered.

“All right, one should never interfere with the pilot, but if we go
forward we will have less distance to travel tomorrow.”

“We have put half the continent behind us since we started,” Roberta
reminded her and the woman made no further objections.

They flew on for a quarter of an hour, then suddenly Roberta had a
sharp pain between her eyes and she blinked in bewilderment, but it
went away again quickly so she decided that it wasn’t anything to worry
about. However, she increased her speed, for if she was going to be
sick, she wanted to get on the ground as quickly as possible. But now
there was no sign of the sun, all of its brilliant colors had faded
to dull grey, which was rapidly growing darker, and although the girl
searched the heavens, she did not see a single star blinking back at
her. Far in the distance she caught the faint flicker of a light which
she was sure was the landing field she sought and a glance at the
chart verified her calculation. Setting her course, she headed Nike
in as straight a line as possible and decreased the speed, banked in
preparation for the glide when she was near enough. Then again came
that stabbing pain, but this time it was in her head.

Brushing her hand over her forehead and opening the strap of her
helmet she felt better again and she hoped hard that her companion
would not notice that anything was wrong. Mrs. Pollzoff might go into
a panic if she discovered her pilot was ill and perhaps do something
in her excitement which would bring them all down in a smash. On they
flew, the lights getting nearer and nearer; and bigger and bigger,
then, suddenly, they began to dance into a long line which Roberta knew
was an optical illusion. Glancing forward she decided that she could
begin the descent, but when she reached toward the control-board, it
seemed to get further and further away from her. Finally she managed
to close the switch and forcing herself with every ounce of strength
and courage she possessed, she struggled to make the field without a
smash-up.

But, to the girl’s amazement, she felt rather than saw, that Nike
instead of starting toward the earth, began to climb steadily, moving
in a wide circle; she could tell that by the wind in her face, then the
plane rose more swiftly, thundering upward at top speed. Frantically
the pilot endeavored to find the proper switches, but it was so dark
that even in the lighted cock-pit she could not see the board nor its
indicators, except in a blurred sort of way.

“Are you all right, Miss Langwell?” It was Mrs. Pollzoff’s voice
speaking through the tube.

“I am trying to go down, to make a landing--I’m--”

“You are trying to, but you are climbing and you are going to keep on
climbing--”

“W-what--what do you m-mean--” Roberta tried desperately to gather her
wandering faculties.

“Simply that you are obeying orders!”

“We can’t f-fly at night,” Roberta protested, then a feeling of horror
swept over her, for suddenly she understood. Something she had eaten
was paralyzing her faculties, making her helpless there in Nike, flying
swiftly a mile above the ground and far from the landing field where
she knew she had friends.

“Whether we can or not, we are going to.” The woman forced her back in
her seat and took over the management of the controls. “You will learn
before you are much older not to have your aviator friends watching us
when we take-off--”

“I didn’t h-h--” But her voice trailed off, her head wobbled forward
on her chest, and if Nike had started a nose dive that moment, her
pilot could have done nothing to prevent her tearing straight to the
ground and digging a ten-foot hole for herself in the ground. The girl,
for a couple of moments was partly conscious, but that too left her
quickly and she was completely out of the picture, at the mercy of the
mysterious Mrs. Pollzoff, if she had any mercy, which was very doubtful.

Mrs. Pollzoff glanced with eyes that blazed hatefully at her
unconscious companion, then, as she had to attend to several things
immediately she first reset the course of the plane and when it was
back in the route it had been pursuing when Roberta announced her
determination to land for the night, then, as managing the machine from
any other seat than the pilot’s was an awkward one she loosened the
girl’s safety-strap and her own. Keeping an alert eye on the indicators
she quickly made the transfer, and over her features came a look of
keen satisfaction.

“You will taunt me that I could not get a license, and that only you
can operate your precious Nike! Well, I’m going to operate it now and
if it flies us both to death, you have it coming to you; you little
fool.” She laughed harshly, and into the dark eyes, which had worn
nothing but boredom and indifference for so long, flashed insane fury.
“For next to nothing, I’d dump you out of the cock-pit, you silly girl!”

For a moment she looked at Roberta as if determined to do just that,
but finally she curbed herself, drew her companion’s safety-belt
tighter, and ran her fingers around it mechanically, for she had been
thoroughly drilled in every phase of the work she longed with her whole
soul to follow the rest of her life. Finding that as it should be, she
saw to the chute and its rip-ring; assuring herself that in changing
their places she had put nothing out of adjustment. Again she gave
her attention to the plane, which was behaving perfectly, and as her
fingers touched the controls her whole body tingled, as if the digits
were lingering over some current which instantly filled her with life
and animation.

Assured that all was as it should be she took a short strap from the
food container and wrapping that twice about her victim’s feet, buckled
it on the side where she could see that it was not worked open; nor
that it could be without the aid of fingers. Roberta had taken off her
long gauntlet gloves while she ate and drank, so Mrs. Pollzoff slipped
them back onto her hands. Then with a second strap she secured the
girl’s arms to her sides, but again the air-mindedness in her forced
her to place the left one, which was nearest to her, close to the life
saving rip-ring.

“Now, now,” she laughed shrilly, and if Nike had been making less noise
the sound might have startled the people beneath them, for it was so
harsh and bitter that it was uncanny.

By that time the gas indicator showed that the plane required
replenishing, so she poured in the reserve tank, calculated how long
it would last her, did some mental figuring, then increased the speed
until it was going at a dangerous rate. She had not done enough flying
so that she was any too familiar with the surface of the country, so
she zoomed high to avoid mountains. Her next act was to shut off the
engine to listen for other planes whose pilots might be following her.
As Nike glided to earth the woman heard two of them. One seemed to
be far behind her; it might have come up when Roberta failed to land
on the flying field. The other was directly south, apparently coming
straight across her course.




CHAPTER VII

A PRISONER


Having ascertained that there were two planes in the air, Mrs. Pollzoff
opened her throttle again, turned the machine as if she were returning
to the field and glanced at the indicator to be sure that her nose and
tail lights were on. Looking toward the other machines she mentally
calculated their course and watched the one which was coming to the
south of her. She noted with a scowl that when she came around it
swerved off its route considerably, but the second pilot exhibited his
lack of interest in her movements by rushing steadily forward, zooming
to be well out of her way, and passing on toward the Canadian border.

“If you are following me I shall give you a good run for your money,”
the woman snapped furiously.

She lifted Nike’s nose, climbed gradually to seven thousand feet,
leveled off, then proceeded at an even keel, racing at the machine’s
top speed; then she started to descend, going more and more slowly,
until the altimeter registered two thousand feet. At that level she
shut off her engine a moment to listen, glanced at the chart, and then
convinced that the larger plane was determined to keep tabs on her, she
shut off the lights, and risked a smash-up by gliding to a thousand
feet. She could see the larger plane high and in back of her, the roar
of its engine sufficient to drown that of Nike; then she opened the
throttle, keeping the head and tail lights out, throwing a cover over
the dim light in the cock-pit, and began to climb slowly.

Nike rushed swiftly forward at its highest speed, lifting gradually
and Mrs. Pollzoff kept her eyes on the covered control-board, shielding
it so that the glow could not be seen by anyone in the air. Twice she
glanced over her shoulder and through the blackness of the starless
heavens could see the other plane moving more swiftly now toward
the spot where its pilot must have calculated that she had made her
landing. It was descending gradually and with a chuckle of satisfaction
over the scheme she had planned to shake off possible pursuers, she
lifted Nike’s nose again and climbed more steeply. At ten thousand feet
she came around in a wide sweep then reset her course for the northwest
which they had been following since the take-off.

Occasionally she looked at the unconscious girl beside her, and once,
when she saw by the clock how long it had been since Roberta passed
beyond the realm of consciousness, she pressed her finger over the
girl’s wrist. In a moment she ascertained that the pulse was beating,
although very slowly, then she drew up the gauntlet and unhooked the
throat band of the coat.

“If you die, I don’t give a care, but I’d rather you wouldn’t, for
I’m going to take a lot of the conceit out of you and your friends
before I get through with you. But die if you want to, for I’ll drop
you overboard into one of the lakes. This part of the world is full of
them and you’ll go down so far they will never be able to tell that
you didn’t do it naturally. I’ll see to that.” She spoke as if she
expected to be heard and understood, but Nike had hit a mighty rough
place in the air and for the next five minutes demanded every bit of
her attention.

Making a careful survey of the heavens and the world beneath her, she
bared her teeth and grinned maliciously, because there wasn’t a sign
of another plane. She calculated that by the time the second pilot had
shut off his engine to descend, if he did, Nike was too far on its way
for them to hear its engine, so would be lost to them for good.

“And they won’t pick me up again,” she declared with satisfaction, but
although she felt confident that she was safe from pursuit, she made it
her business to be alert every moment.

The fact that the night was dark and there were no stars, helped
her, for the instant a plane’s light flashed into the sky she would
be able to see it easily. By that time a stiff wind was blowing. It
shrieked dismally through the struts and braces, and Nike plugged on
and on with a wail of protest. One thing she watched with the greatest
care was the engine, for she did not know how it would stand up on an
endurance flight. But it was hitting steadily, behaving quite as if it
had not traveled for hours and seemed perfectly capable of going on
indefinitely.

They had crossed the border and were well into Canada when a slight
movement on the part of her prisoner warned her that the girl was
regaining consciousness. She glanced at the white face, saw the
head move slightly, the lips part, but the movement ceased after a
minute, and Roberta sank back into a state of unconsciousness. With so
many things to observe, Mrs. Pollzoff grew less cautious and folded
the cover she had spread over the cock-pit lights, but she dimmed
everything except those she actually needed to read the dials in front
of her. The wind was shrieking now, so she tried to set a course which
would keep her out of the storm which she knew as surely rising, and
continued the flight without showing a light.

According to the chart they were rushing over a mountainous section and
here she zoomed high, lest they meet an obstruction. Her experience
with altimeters had not included the latest model on Nike so she was
fearful lest the instrument fail to warn her in time to avoid collision
with the immovable face of a rocky cliff. Then examining the chart,
she swerved sharply out of her course and suddenly, from far ahead she
saw another plane circling in wide sweeps. It carried four lights, two
blue, one red and the other green.

The sight of this airman gave Mrs. Pollzoff no terrors, for she blinked
one of her lights for a moment, then switched it out again. This she
repeated twice and flew steadily on until five minutes later the two
machines were flying side by side, the other plane, which was larger,
slightly above Nike.

In the meantime Roberta had returned to consciousness and was fully
aware of what was going on about her. The drug she had been given had
caused a sort of paralysis but her mind had cleared several minutes
before she stirred. The first thing she knew was the fact that Mrs.
Pollzoff’s fingers were pressed against her wrist but at that time she
was utterly unable to move so much as an eyelash, so she remained as if
still completely under the influence of the dope which had been given
to her in something she ate. Her head ached furiously, and it seemed as
if pins and needles were pricking her whole body.

Slowly the sensation, except the headache, faded, and she was able to
think. She tried to remember of what Mrs. Pollzoff had accused her when
the drug began to take effect, but she couldn’t remember. By the feel
of the plane, the girl Sky-Pilot was able to tell something of how
they were flying and she tried to form a plan of escape. As her body
recovered she had ventured to move, and in this way had ascertained
that she was strapped tightly and was helpless in the passenger seat.
The effort to move had been excruciating and when she relaxed again it
was as much exhaustion as design.

By the shrill whistle through the struts Roberta knew that they were
flying against a high wind, and as Nike bucked forward, her engine
roaring, and every part of her wailing a protest, she was sure that
Mrs. Pollzoff must be fully occupied with the task of keeping the
plane balanced. There were times when it fairly jumped, others when it
half twisted, and more when the wings dipped under the force of the
on-rushing storm, and creaked as if they were being ripped off the
fuselage.

Cautiously the girl lifted one eyelid and verified her calculations
for Mrs. Pollzoff was leaning far forward in the seat, battling with
every ounce of strength and knowledge she possessed. There was almost
no light in the cock-pit and Roberta wondered if they were flying
without head and tail lights. She wished she could get a glimpse of the
control board. What she wanted to see most was the clock, which would
tell her how long she had been unconscious. She reasoned that it was
not likely they had landed anywhere; for a trussed girl would certainly
arouse suspicion and immediate demands for an explanation. If the fact
that she was bound went unobserved, still it would be noticed that she
was either asleep or ill; someone would be sure to investigate.

If they had not landed, and had traveled any length of time at the
speed they were going, the gas supply must be nearly exhausted.
Venturing to open her eyes wide and look at the sky all she could see
was pitch darkness so that did not help her discover how long she
had been unconscious, but she had a positive hunch that it had been
some hours. If this was right they would be compelled to land soon to
replenish the fuel supply.

Mrs. Pollzoff had drawn on her gauntlets, but she hadn’t made a very
smooth job of it. There was a rip in the lining of the right one and
Roberta’s finger had gone in the wrong way. It was the hand nearest the
outside of the cock-pit, so she risked moving it slightly, then she
wondered if she couldn’t do something after all to leave a clue as to
which way she went. All of her flying clothes were marked with a stamp
in indelible ink with her full name. This included the inside of her
gauntlet cuffs.

Roberta’s heart hammered hopefully as she stealthily wriggled her
fingers, pressing them tightly to her side and moving her arm back. She
couldn’t do this more than half an inch, but repeating the performance
patiently and with the utmost caution she finally succeeded in getting
her hand well out. Then, waiting a moment, the next time _Nike_ gave
a bump, she flipped the glove as high as she could, and with one
half-opened eye, she rejoiced to see that the plane dropped sharply,
the wind caught the thing as if it were a leaf and bore it off into the
darkness. The girl knew that it would probably land miles from where it
left her and she prayed that it would be found soon. She knew, also,
that it would probably be some time before her absence or disappearance
was noticed. Mrs. Langwell would have the letters from Charleston, and
when no more arrived she would start an inquiry. Her dad would get in
touch with Mr. Trowbridge or Mr. Wallace.

Even though she was no longer an employee of the Lurtiss Airplane
Company, Roberta hadn’t the slightest doubt that the firm, its entire
force if necessary, would be put out to search for her. She could
hear Phil Fisher’s wrathful explosions, and see Larry marching out
after the best machine, climbing grimly into its cock-pit and roaring
furiously off in pursuit. Thinking of the loyalty of every one of them
she wondered if Mrs. Pollzoff realized it and hoped hard that the
woman didn’t. Of course everyone knew perfectly well that any pilot,
man or woman, who was lost immediately became the focus of the world’s
attention until the plane appeared or the wreck was discovered; but
everyone could not appreciate the perfect camaraderie which existed in
the firm’s organization; especially among the flyers. If it was rumored
that Miss Langwell was missing nothing would be left undone to locate
her.

Roberta had no doubt that Mrs. Pollzoff would take every possible
precaution, and now the girl thought of the possibility of escaping
when they came down for fuel. She tried again to catch a glimpse of the
control board but that was hopeless, so she gave it up. It was a strain
to remain in the same position but she forced herself to do it for she
was positive that the instant her captor realized that she had come to
her senses, she would take further precautions to see that there was no
opportunity for her to get away.

Suddenly, on the wind which came to her, she smelled a strong tang
of salt water; enough so that she decided they were nearing one of
the coasts and that the storm was coming from there. The air was only
intermittently salty so she guessed they were still some distance away
from the ocean, whichever one it was. Then through the darkness and
to her right, she saw a plane flying high and carrying four lights.
Almost at once the lights on Nike were flashed, then Roberta was sure
that they had been traveling without them. Evidently the woman had been
afraid of some one’s following after her. Now the course was changed
sharply and presently Nike was racing to the left of a plane about
twice as large as her own.

Although Roberta wanted to see what this was all about she dared not
move, for she was sure that the other machine carried no friend of
hers. Peeping cautiously she saw the machine zoom up sharply, they
seemed to be going through some sort of maneuver. Mrs. Pollzoff had
raised herself in the pilot’s seat as far as the safety strap would
permit, then in a moment the larger plane came around to the right. The
girl Sky-Pilot promptly closed her eyes lest its pilot warn the woman
that she was awake.

Twice the two planes circled, then the larger one rose sharply on
Roberta’s side, and a moment later she could see the underside of a
monoplane; its huge floats looking like the bottoms of small flat
boats. In another second something like a weight dropped into Roberta’s
lap and instantly Mrs. Pollzoff caught it up, so the girl decided that
her captor must be receiving a message, or sending one by the other
pilot, but the next instant something dragged across her knees and
unable to contain herself any longer, she raised her lids, only to
close them again quickly, for the woman was standing over her. At the
moment her face was raised, but then she looked down.

What the girl Sky-Pilot saw made her gasp in astonishment and fear,
for Mrs. Pollzoff was hauling in a long tube, which must mean that she
was going to refuel from the air and not come down at all, at least
until the supply was depleted. She might take on a full supply, as much
as they had had when they left Charleston, and unless the woman went to
sleep over the stick, she could keep going until the following day.

Sick with horror, Roberta tried to make her brain function properly,
but it was filled with the wildest terrors and in spite of warm
clothing, she felt as cold as if she were wearing summer clothing.
In the day time, under the best of conditions, what the two planes
were trying to do could be accomplished with skilled pilots at
both controls, but in the middle of the night, with a woman at the
receiving end of the tube who had been disqualified as a flyer, it was
a desperately risky undertaking. Nike’s nose might be jammed up into
the other plane’s underpinning or drop so low that the tube would be
broken and the machine sprayed with the highly inflammable mixture. A
dozen things could happen so quickly to make a smash-up inevitable. She
wondered dully why Mrs. Pollzoff didn’t take in new containers, which
would be less dangerous, and when the girl recalled that the woman had
been considered incompetent as a pilot, she was no longer surprised.
Probably her examiners had realized that she was too foolhardy to trust
with a license.

There were a number of slips, disconnections and reconnections during
the performance, and it seemed to Roberta as if hours passed before the
work was finally achieved and she felt the long tube with its heavy
weight being dragged across her knees again and at last heard them
thump and bump against the side of Nike while the other pilot hauled
them up to his own machine. Then Mrs. Pollzoff resumed her seat and her
appropriated task, but the girl felt her slip down as if weary from
the strain. She opened her eyes a bit to see if the woman was able to
do anything more and found that she was busy with the controls, and
circling in a wide sweep, the second plane was soaring out of her way,
the end of the tube extending behind. Then it disappeared from sight.

Again Roberta’s nostrils were filled with that strong odor from the
sea and Nike zoomed courageously forward, carrying with her every
vestige of hope that she might help herself or get help when they were
forced to land. There was not a chance in the world that they could
come down for hours, unless the engine gave them trouble, and no one
knew better than the girl Sky-Pilot that every inch of her plane’s
machinery was the best possible and that it would stand long hours of
the hardest grilling without showing a sign of weakness. She wondered
over and over why Mrs. Pollzoff had kidnaped her and tried to remember
what the woman had said as she was losing consciousness, but her head
ached with the effort. Then she thought of the glove she had dropped
and resolved to get the other one off and send it after the first if
possible.

Removing the right gauntlet, which was furthest from Mrs. Pollzoff’s
side had been comparatively easy, but slipping out of the other which
was placed close to the rip-ring of her parachute and almost under the
woman’s nose, was a more dangerous undertaking, but Roberta wasn’t
built of the stuff that quits; she knew that a quitter never wins and
a winner never quits, so she watched until her companion was leaning
far enough forward so that the motion of the arm would not attract her
attention. Fortunately for Roberta, the woman decided to dim the lights
in the cock-pit, so she herself could not see so easily and must keep
close to the control-board to watch the dials.

Slowly and cautiously, the girl wriggled her fingers until finally
they were partly out of the gauntlet, then she managed to slip it
along toward her right hand, hoping to draw it across her lap and
throw it as she had the other. Just then, Mrs. Pollzoff tipped Nike’s
nose at a sharp angle and climbed swiftly for several minutes, then
leveled and shut off her motor. By that time the smell of salt water
permeated the air and Roberta was desperately anxious to get the glove
over before they reached the shore line where it might be lost in the
ocean. In this project Mrs. Pollzoff helped her by leaning far over
her own side of the plane, searching beneath her, and Roberta clearly
heard the pounding of the breakers. With a slight twist of her body she
transferred the gauntlet to her right hand, and with a second flip of
her fingers, sent it over the side.

Mrs. Pollzoff settled quickly back into her seat while the heavens
were split with a million tongues of forked lightning, and after a
breathless instant, a terrific crack of thunder boomed and crashed as
if bent on the destruction of the whole universe.




CHAPTER VIII

THROUGH THE STORM


If Roberta had really been unconscious when the fury of the storm burst
upon them, with the repeated cutting flashes of light and the thunder
booming like a terrific bombardment all about the gallant little Nike,
she would have come to if there was any life in her at all. She started
up with a wild cry, then remembered instantly that she was supposed to
be just coming out of a prolonged period of sleep, and so, strained
forward on her straps, stared around as if she had no knowledge of
anything which had transpired, and struggled to free herself from the
belts that held her secure.

At first Mrs. Pollzoff was too fully occupied to pay any attention
to the plane’s real pilot, and the girl managed to take in the whole
situation. The lightning revealed an endless surge of white rollers
stretched row after row and piling themselves on top of one another as
the gale lashed them like an escaped demon. Her first sensation was one
of dismayed certainty that her second glove had gone into the raging
water beneath them, so that its chances of being picked up were ruined;
the tiny thing would never be recovered and the name printed indelibly
on the stiff cuff would never be deciphered.

Twisting and wriggling to get free of her bonds, Roberta verified
what she already suspected, that they were secured well out of her
reach. The rain began to pour down on them in great sheets as if the
heavens had suddenly opened and dumped the accumulation of years on the
struggling machine. She managed to catch a glimpse of the indicators
and saw that the tanks were well filled; the altimeter registered eight
thousand feet but it was going lower with each jerk of the pointer.
Whether the engine was functioning or not she couldn’t tell, because
the howling wind deadened every other sound as Nike tipped and spun
like a helpless leaf.

“Let me loose,” Roberta shrieked, but if Mrs. Pollzoff heard, she paid
no attention, but battled with grim determination with the controls,
endeavoring to climb above the tempest which was pressing down on them
with such power that it seemed impossible for the plane to lift an inch.

“Let me fly her,” the girl pleaded frantically, for she realized above
everything else, that Mrs. Pollzoff was losing her head, and that
their chances of getting out of the dilemma were growing more and more
remote. She strained so far forward that her shoulder touched that of
the woman, who whirled about angrily, her teeth bared like those of a
snarling animal at bay.

“Get out of the way!” She shoved her back into the drenched seat and
shook her fist in her face. “Stay where you are or I’ll throw you out!”
Roberta couldn’t hear a word, but there was no mistaking the command.
“If _I_ can’t get us out, the three of us will go down together. I
won’t have it said that you saved me.” Again the clenched fist shot
close to the girl’s face, and probably if there had been a moment to
waste, she would have been struck.

With a furious snarl, Mrs. Pollzoff turned her attention back to her
job, and after a grilling ten minutes, Nike’s nose began to lift
slowly. The brave little plane climbed sturdily into the gale, which
continued to fight every fraction of an inch gained. Ten minutes more
and they struggled above the worst of the storm, then Mrs. Pollzoff
took time to put the cover over the top of the machine. Before it was
closed she scanned the heavens and waters as best she could, but there
was no sign of another plane in the air or ship on the ocean. When the
cover was finally in place, the cock-pit no longer acted as a space to
fill and help drag them to destruction, but the rain beat on the top,
and in spite of the lights Mrs. Pollzoff turned on both inside and
outside, the lightning filled the whole atmosphere with its weird glow,
changing the cheerful illumination to a ghastly, sulphurous hue.

Consulting the altimeter again, Mrs. Pollzoff forced the plane to
climb higher, but there seemed to be no ceiling to the storm, and they
could not get above its rage. The wind veered around until it was on
Nike’s tail, and its force drove her ahead at a terrific speed. Here
the woman showed a bit more sense than before, by letting the tempest
carry them forward instead of struggling against it. She also kept
climbing, but at a gradual ascent. The tiny clock on the control-board
ticked away two hours, but they seemed more like one hundred and twenty
years than that many minutes to the imprisoned young girl. It was
nearly morning and if they succeeded in coming through the storm, the
first streaks of dawn would be flashing across the heavens in another
hour. But that hour too went by bringing no hopeful rays of day to
relieve the blackness. On and on they went, once the tank had to be
replenished, and once the engine crackled alarmingly for a moment, but
that was adjusted. Two hours later they had traveled nearly two hundred
miles. It was still raining, but a bit of light was beginning to force
its way through the darkness.

Mrs. Pollzoff stubbornly refused to release her prisoner or ask
advice, although her hands trembled and her body quivered with terror
and weariness under the continuous strain, but she did not say another
word to the girl beside her, nor did Roberta waste her own strength to
plead that she might be given the management of Nike. She could not
help admire the indomitable grit of the woman even while she deplored
the fact that such courage was misdirected.

Another hour dragged on before there was the faintest sign that they
might win through if Nike could hang together through the awful beating
she was getting. The rain pounded against her, the gale pressed her
down spasmodically, tossed her up again like a plaything, but all the
time shoved her forward. It seemed to the girl as if every section in
her construction must surely be ripped apart any moment, and Roberta’s
heart was grateful for the skill and careful workmanship which had been
put into her little craft.

The girl Sky-Pilot’s head no longer ached from the effects of the
drug, and her mind was clearer as she tried to figure how she might
get free of her bonds, but whenever she wiggled too strenuously, Mrs.
Pollzoff would look at her maliciously and glance at the buckles
to be sure that they were where she had put them. Thinking of the
construction of the plane brought back to Roberta’s mind the fact that
Mr. Wallace had installed an alarm button; one which was in some way
tuned with the broadcasting band, and her heart leaped. Months before
when the Blue Pirate Terror had been making a determined effort to
force her out of the sky she had pressed her foot over one of the
narrow boards in the flooring and by this means had released a spring
carefully hidden. If she wasn’t too far away from any broadcasting or
radio station she might be heard again, but she knew that the other
time she had used this emergency, dozens of men were listening for it
and had instantly sprung into action.

Leaning over, as if weary, Roberta studied the floor for the tiny knot
which marked the secret section, but the cloak Mrs. Pollzoff had used
to dim the lights on the control board was over it. However, she knew
well exactly where it was located, and although she had never released
it from the passenger’s seat, she repeated in her mind the directions.
She must reach it with her heel and press hard with the side of it
until she felt it give, then she was to hold it so a second, after
which it was to be again released.

Roberta hadn’t the faintest idea where they were, nor could she
tell from the charts, for the compass was on the further side of
the control-board and as Mrs. Pollzoff managed the machine her body
obstructed the view. She feared they were so far away that it would do
no good at all to use Mr. Wallace’s clever little invention, but just
because she was uncertain of the result she wasn’t passing up even an
uncertain effort which might help the searchers locate her. She moved
her bound feet forward experimentally under the cloak, but although she
tried pressing with her heel she found no spot which responded to the
force. However, she might get a chance later, so she watched for an
opportunity.

Another hour went by slowly, then Mrs. Pollzoff got out the container
of food; poured herself a drink of strong coffee which she drank black,
then took another. That steadied her nerves somewhat and she filled a
cup for Roberta, but to this she added a quantity of milk and held it
to the girl’s lips. It had been in the thermos bottle and was a sickish
warm, a nasty mixture, but she drank it gratefully, for her throat was
dry as parchment, and her tongue swollen.

“Thank you,” she said when the last drop was gone, but she didn’t
expect to be heard.

After that the woman got out more food, and between operations
necessary to keep Nike balanced, she managed to feed the girl beside
her some bread and butter sandwiches, topping them off with a little
water poured from a tin container. The amount of food, water and the
fact that arrangements had been made for the refueling in the air was
convincing proof that the woman had carefully planned this scheme, but
there was no fathoming the reason for it. When the meal was finished,
what was left was stored away again, the cloak was folded, put out of
the way, and Roberta’s heart leaped hopefully.

It took the girl Sky-Pilot only a few moments to locate the tiny knot
in the floor, which was still wet from the drenching it had received
while the cover was open. The little square with its outline so dim
it could barely be seen was inches away from her feet, and thanking
her lucky star that Mrs. Pollzoff had not been able to secure her
feet to the seat, she calculated its position. It was still raining,
the wind was still blowing them forward and Roberta yawned wearily as
she glanced at the shelter above them. Stretching her back, which was
strained and aching in every muscle, she managed slowly to give her
body a luxuriant treat by moving every part of it, including her feet.
They went in the direction of the knot, but when she leaned forward a
trifle she saw that it was not far enough.

At that moment Mrs. Pollzoff drew herself up in her own seat, leaned
back to relax her pain-racked limbs, and then Roberta took advantage of
the opportunity offered. She slid low, her feet extended as far as she
could get them, and when she guessed that they were in the right spot,
she pressed hard. But there was no yield, not the slightest movement,
and she grew faint with discouragement. Then she reasoned that the
water might have swollen the board, so she pressed again, throwing
every ounce of her strength into that heel. Still it did not sink.
Moving her foot a trifle she tried again, harder than ever and kept
it up. At last the wee board gave slightly, so, with a heart beating
furiously, she continued to push on it with all her strength. Anxiously
she held the position for fully a minute, dreading every second that
her companion might suspect some sort of trick, but apparently Mrs.
Pollzoff was confident that her prisoner was helpless. Just then Nike
began to buck, as if it was riding steep rollers, and the attention of
his pilot was demanded.

“Get back, out of the way,” she ordered harshly and gave the girl a
shove.

Thankful that the command had been delayed so long, Roberta sat up
quickly in her seat, her eyes swept the little square, and she saw it
slip slowly into place. At least the signal was set and if only some
government wireless man or anybody at all would pick it up and start
inquiries as to its cause, they could tell at Lurtiss Field where Nike
was and possibly trace her to her destination.

It was getting extremely cold, more so than the altitude would warrant
unless they had been coming steadily north. To occupy her mind, Roberta
tried to calculate how far they had come if they had followed the
course the woman had set when they left Charleston, but there were so
many “ifs” to the reasoning, that she couldn’t get even an idea, so she
gave it up. As soon as she could read the indicators she would be able
to tell. Now she was tired, hopelessly so, and her heavy lids dropped
over her eyes, but she forced herself to keep them open. Mrs. Pollzoff
too, must be greatly fatigued; she couldn’t stand such a strain
indefinitely, and besides, unless they were refueled again, they would
be compelled to make a landing very shortly.

In order to keep herself awake, Roberta went over carefully in her
mind every detail of the days since that first morning when she and
Nike had been engaged to take Mrs. Pollzoff on her mysterious mission.
At first she had given her passenger little thought, but the seeming
aimlessness of their flights, together with the woman’s taciturnity
had made her uneasy. She tried hard to recall anything she had done to
offend the woman or arouse her animosity, but could recall nothing.
Again she tried to remember the words she had heard vaguely when she
was sinking into unconsciousness, but they continued to elude her. She
wondered if by any possible chance Mrs. Pollzoff had objected to young
Powell’s seeing them off, but promptly dismissed the idea as too absurd
for consideration. Who could mind the appearance of the fun-loving chap
and his sister? No, Roberta was sure that it was something that went
back further, and again she racked her brain for the answer.

“At any rate, I guess she isn’t interested in killing me or she would
have done it long ago; she has had opportunity enough. She might have
given me a second dose of drug, bigger than the other, and finished the
job. If she had wanted to do anything of that kind, I certainly gave
her a good chance when I ate and drank. Wonder why I wasn’t afraid to
take the food! I might have been afraid not to, I don’t know. Heavens,
I’d like to go to sleep, but I can’t desert Nike--I won’t,” she
resolved, but it was a resolution mighty difficult to keep.

No matter how long the engine stood up, the plane held together, and
the fuel lasted; the woman was bound to reach a point when her body
refused to act. Even now she was moving in jerks, staring three and
four times at the different indicators before she was positive of the
readings. Her breath came in painful gasps; Roberta could tell that
by the way her shoulders heaved; she moved her feet as if they felt
weighted, and twice her head nodded, but it was brought up always with
a quick jerk. As soon as the woman’s will power weakened, as it surely
must, then Roberta was sure that she could manage to get free of her
bonds. She could wriggle and twist until she could reach the buckle,
and with one arm loose, the rest would be but the work of a moment;
then she could take charge, and would see to it that Mrs. Pollzoff did
not get the upper hand again.

As she glanced at the woman, whose fatigue was obvious, she determined
to make a try for her freedom at once for it was probable that if Mrs.
Pollzoff fainted from strain and exhaustion, she would get herself so
tangled with the controls of the plane that before Roberta could get
loose, Nike would have her nose buried in the bottom of the ocean,
if it was still under them, or in the ground if they were traveling
over land. After fifteen minutes, during which she moved her elbow not
more than an inch at a time, the girl finally got her left hand back
to the buckle, but maintaining the same position for so long a period
had made her fingers so cold and numb that contact with the hard metal
sent thousands of pins and needles stinging through her body. It took
considerable time before the digits could feel with any accuracy, but
at last they did. She could not risk a glance at what she was trying to
do, but she felt the end of the strap, placed her fingers well over it,
and slowly drew them back until there was a hump in the leather. Under
this lee-way she pushed with her thumb, then working breathlessly she
got the strap through the end of the buckle.

At that moment Mrs. Pollzoff leaned back as if she suspected something
amiss and glanced at her companion, but her eyes were so heavy, and
Roberta looked so much as if she were nearly asleep, that she devoted
her energy to the job at hand, which was demanding enough. It was still
raining, but not so violently, the wind blew with an angry roar as
if furious with Nike for not being brought down in splinters, while
intermittent flashes of lightning and a far off bombing of thunder
kept them reminded that they were in the greatest danger, so the
robber-pilot bent forward again. Three minutes later Roberta pushed the
tongue of the buckle out of the hole.

Never had Roberta’s heart hammered so furiously as it did while
her fingers gradually got the strap through, but at last it was
accomplished. She wriggled just enough to draw it under her back, which
loosened her right arm. It had been tight so long that there was almost
no sensation left, and as the blood began to circulate more normally
the pain was excruciating. The belt had been wound about her arm in
three twists, and being mighty careful that the strap across her body
remained, to all appearances, as usual, she finally got it free. What
should she do next was the question which immediately confronted her.
She made up her mind that the best thing to do was to allow her body to
relax as much as possible so that if she had to make a quick move, she
would be able to manage. In the meantime, she might get an opportunity
to free her feet.

With this project in mind, Roberta drew her feet back carefully, at
the same time lowering her right hand. She was glad that the gauntlets
had been removed, and wondered a little why Mrs. Pollzoff had not
missed them. But she evidently didn’t and that was something to be
thankful for. It was half an hour before she finally brought her
fingers into contact with the strap, the buckle of which was in the
back, then drooping forward as if she were asleep, she gave a great
sigh, and closed her lids, but her hand worked quickly and presently
the strap was off. She couldn’t prevent its dropping down, but she was
banking on the fact that Mrs. Pollzoff had been paying no attention to
her. Cautiously moving her toes and ankles, the girl slowly began to
feel more normal. Although she was horribly weary, she determined that
in a few minutes she would take charge of the situation. But a moment
later, Mrs. Pollzoff shut off the engine and Nike began to glide down;
whether it was to the earth or water, there was no telling, but she was
coming down, and the pilot was evidently preparing to make a landing.

“If she does,” Roberta thought, “she’ll surely discover that I got
loose.”




CHAPTER IX

MAROONED


What was to happen when they finally landed, Roberta could not even
guess, but she determined to be on the alert. She judged they had
maintained a high altitude, and this fact was promptly verified as
she watched Mrs. Pollzoff attend to the plane. Soon she took time to
slide the cover from over the cock-pit and all that could be seen was
a thick fog which enveloped them. The woman scanned the earth beneath
her and as she did that Roberta managed to catch a glimpse of the fuel
indicator, the needle of which showed that they could go very little
further.

The fact promptly banished a sudden idea of pushing the woman out and
racing back into the heavens, for such a scheme would be foolhardy,
inasmuch as Nike could carry her only a short distance. Her second
plan depended greatly upon what happened when the plane’s wheels
touched the ground, if they did, but Roberta made ready to snatch any
opportunity which offered itself. She hated to abandon the machine;
that would have to be her last resort, for she realized that the woman
wasn’t coming down any place where she did not expect to find friends
and accommodations. Carefully drawing up her right hand, she found
the latch to the door at her side, and at the same time got loose her
safety strap so that it could not hold her back. The chute would also
hamper any quick movement, but before she could manage to rid herself
of the awkward bulky thing, Nike touched ground.

A few feet away was a huge fire, which looked as if it had been
built as a beacon for the woman, but even its blaze was veiled by the
swirling fog which surrounded it. As the plane curved, its wheels
bumped first one side, then the other; once they struck something so
large that they jumped, so Mrs. Pollzoff was fully occupied in bringing
the machine to a stop. Blurred figures of men moved between them and
the fire, and at last when Nike stopped, they came forward. There was a
confused murmur of voices.

“Hurry and help me,” Mrs. Pollzoff snapped, but her voice cracked
shrilly.

“We’re here--”

“Been waitin’ fer hours,” snapped one who seemed in charge of the
party. “Keeping this fire going. What kept you?”

“Think I could do any better through that storm--”

“Aw, that’s it, eh? Flew yourself. The boss said you’d probably try
that fool trick.”

“What was the matter with the girl doing it--she’d have--”

“Shut your fool mouth. Get her out and be quick about it, you think
she’s so wonderful--” Mrs. Pollzoff swore roundly.

“She’d have done it quicker. It’s only fool’s luck that you didn’t have
a smash-up.”

“Get her out--” Mrs. Pollzoff stamped her feet furiously.

“Did you kill her?” One of the men came close to the woman, and his
tone was threatening. “You’ll get yours from the boss if she’s hurt; he
needs her in this business and you had your orders.”

“I tell you she’s all right, only asleep. Get her out. We’re both
nearly dead.”

But Roberta didn’t wait to hear anything more. She threw her weight
against the door, jumped out under the shelter of Nike’s wing, and
leaped into the dense fog. Instantly three men who had been coming
around the plane, sprang toward her. There followed a wild scramble
of feet as the girl ran desperately from the scene, but the chute
interfered, although she tried hard to get out of it as she fled.

“Bring up some of those torches,” one of the men bellowed. “She can’t
get far.”

Immediately a dozen firebrands were being brandished through the fog,
in a moment her footprints were discovered and panting men rushed in
pursuit. The rough ground, the unwieldy chute, and her own weariness
were almost too much for the fleeing girl, but she pushed on as fast as
she could, hoping to find some place into which she could dodge, and
trying to plant her feet on rocks which would leave no tell-tale trail.
It was amazing that she managed to keep going so long, but suddenly the
leader of the men caught sight of her.

“You ain’t going to be hurt, Miss, and you’re headin’ out to sea,”
he called, and although his voice was rough, there was nothing in it
to fear. Just at that moment a wave splashed over Roberta’s ankles,
verifying the last part of his statement; but a wave of discouragement
even larger and more formidable than the water piled over her,
completely dispelling every hope of escape.

“Oh, please,” she cried--but that was all she could say, for her head
seemed ready to burst open with pain, sharp daggers stung her eyes, and
just as the man reached her, her body grew limp.

“That wild cat gave you a hard time,” he remarked as he picked her up
in his arms, but what he said or did was lost to the girl, for she had
fainted dead away. It was lucky he was there, because she would have
slumped into the water, been tossed helplessly on the in-coming tide,
and no one could have saved her from being crushed among the rocks.

Being a healthy girl the state of unconsciousness did not last long and
a bit later she opened her eyes again. A dark woman, who looked like
an Indian had her in charge; while one of the men stood ready with a
flask, some of the contents of which was still stinging her throat. Her
flying suit had been opened and she was stretched out on a rough bed
of boughs, and another Indian, a younger one, unfastened her shoes. It
wasn’t a comforting sight, but it was evident that every one of them
was bent on bringing her to and making her as comfortable as possible.

“Here, that’s the girl! Take a bit more of this and it will knock the
kinks out of you,” the man urged. He was the man who had picked her up,
and there was a smoldering light in his eyes as if, regardless of what
the situation might really be, his sympathies were with Roberta.

“I’m lots better,” she managed to gasp. “Thank you so much.”

“Sure, but you’ll be better still. Come along, this won’t hurt you,
and you surely do need it. The natives will do the little things to
help you.” He went over with the flask and Roberta obeyed without
further protest. Her good sense told her that she must do everything
possible to regain her strength if she expected to get away from the
place. She wanted to ask where she was, but decided it might be better
to wait until she was more sure of herself and those around her.

“I ain’t never been in favor of this kidnaping business, Wat,” said one
of the men who was standing by. “It always sets the crowd against you.”

“Well, keep your shirt on, Slim,” Wat answered under his breath.
“Better yell fer some of that soup,” he added.

“Come along with the soup,” Slim shouted.

“Think I’m at the Pole.” A third man appeared with a tin of steaming
soup, which the woman took from him.

“That’s good. Let Nomie feed you a little at a time, and if they
don’t treat you right, yell for Wat and I’ll come running.” He grinned
down at her, then spoke to Nomie, who nodded that she understood, but
Roberta didn’t catch the words.

“Good,” said Nomie, as she sniffed the contents of the bowl. Then she
took a crust of hard bread, dipped it into the liquid. “Too hot,” she
told Roberta. “Eat little from crust.”

It was an odd way of taking nourishment, but Roberta was glad that
she wasn’t required to sit up and eat, for although the brandy she
had swallowed was tingling warmly, she was woefully tired and making
any sort of physical effort seemed impossible. The “soup” tasted of
clams and milk, and she thought she had never eaten anything better.
Conscientiously Nomie fed her, a little at a time, until finally it
was cooler and she used a spoon instead of the bread, but she did not
hasten the performance. The men had withdrawn tactfully to the other
side of the huge bon-fire which was being raked into a smaller space
as it was no longer needed as a beacon. Roberta wondered dully how it
had helped Mrs. Pollzoff to know where to come down, but just then she
saw Slim passing with a bundle of rockets and understood that the gang
must have been shooting them intermittently while they waited, and more
frequently when they heard the plane roaring toward them out of the fog.

“More bye and bye,” Nomie said at last, and she handed the dish to the
young girl. “Fix bed, Natell,” she added. The Indian girl hurried away,
and presently Wat returned.

“Feel able to walk?” he asked gruffly.

“Guess so,” Roberta answered. She managed to get to her feet, and
although she felt better, she was still wobbly.

“Give her a hand there,” Wat ordered.

“Good,” agreed Nomie and she slipped her strong arm about Roberta’s
waist. “This way.” They proceeded slowly away from the fire, and
presently, a few yards ahead, she saw a small blaze through the fog.

“Here you are!” Natell was standing in a low doorway.

“Now, get some sleep. Nobody’s going to hurt you,” Wat said quietly,
and the two native women helped her stumble inside.

Roberta was too weary to pay much attention to anything, except that
the room she entered appeared to be a long, low one with many bright
colored draperies hanging on the wall. In a moment she was led to a
rude bed, the top of which was piled high with pillows, and as she
seated herself on the edge, she saw another one a few feet away. Across
the top of it lay Mrs. Pollzoff, already sound asleep. Nomie and her
young daughter made short work of helping their charge out of a part of
her clothes, but they hadn’t finished, when her weary lids closed over
her eyes as she fell asleep.

Although she had no idea what time it was when she opened her eyes
again, the girl Sky-Pilot had slept around the clock. The Indians
had certainly made her very comfortable among the huge pillows, and
now she yawned and stretched luxuriously. Turning over she saw that
close to the bed the girl, Natell, was seated, her small brown hands
busily darting back and forth over a piece of weaving. Her keen ears
must have been alert for a sound from her charge, for she immediately
called shrilly. “No-mee, No-mee!” Nomie came at once and glanced at the
blinking young pilot.

“Good,” she greeted soberly.

“She is awake,” announced Natell.

“Of course I am awake, but--” A bit of the recollection of the horrors
through which she had gone, returned to her mind, and instinctively
she glanced toward the second bed where she had seen Mrs. Pollzoff
recovering from her own exhaustion, but the woman wasn’t there and the
bed had been smoothed. As far as she could tell there was no one in the
room but the natives and herself. “Where am I? I mean, what is this
place?” she asked curiously.

“Island,” Nomie answered. She was getting the white girl’s clothes out
of a queer sort of chest that looked as if it had been made of pieces
of driftwood. As the woman showed no inclination of imparting more
information, Roberta decided that it might be the better part of wisdom
to be content with what she had learned.

“Fine!” Natell spread the garments before their owner with true
feminine interest, and in another moment, Nomie produced the traveling
bag from behind one of the curtains, as well as the wrist watch they
had taken off to add to her comfort while she slept. The time-piece was
going but Roberta stared at it in amazement, for it showed less than
two hours later than the hour they had landed.

“How long did I sleep?” she asked quickly.

“One sun,” Nomie smiled at her.

“Good sleep,” Natell added, with a wide grin.

“I should say so,” Roberta replied laughing. She had a hunch that it
might be greatly to her advantage to be as friendly as possible with
the people of the island, because recalling the dialogue which had
passed between Wat and Slim after the arrival of Nike, their attitude
toward her abduction, or kidnaping was one of strong disapproval. The
native women, too, were kindly disposed and Roberta wondered to what
tribe they belonged. She had seen any number of American Indians in
the United States and in Canada also, when she was touring with the
Wallaces, but while the two who were caring for her had high cheek
bones, dark eyes, and skin, they looked as if they belonged to another
race entirely. While she put on her clothes, Nomie was fussing about
a small oil stove, and presently the odor of coffee permeated the
dwelling. Ready at last she noticed that Natell’s eyes were attracted
by a string of red beads among the articles in the tray of her bag.

“Eat,” invited Nomie.

“You may have these,” Roberta picked up the beads and fastened the
strand about the younger girl’s neck.

“No, no, no,” she said quickly, and glanced with evident anxiety around
the room as if she expected someone to step out.

“What?” demanded Nomie coming to the girl.

“See.” Natell looked wistfully at her mother, who also took a hasty
glance over her shoulder.

“Please let her keep them!” Roberta pleaded. “If you do not want anyone
to know I gave them to her, slip them out of sight. I have more. See!”
She pointed to other ornaments in her bag, and after a few words
exchanged in their own tongue, Nomie nodded her head.

“Good,” she agreed, and immediately Natell fixed the neck of her
homespun dress so that the treasure could not be seen. Her mother drew
a chair, cut from the stump of a tree, before an equally primitive
table and spread out a meal of cornbread, fish and coffee. To this she
added, surreptitiously, as if as a special treat, a tablespoonful of
honey.

“Thank you very much,” Roberta said, for she had an idea that the
settlement did not boast of very much of the sweet.

“Good,” the woman replied, but she kept her eyes on the door while
Natell stood just outside of it until the girl Sky-Pilot had consumed
the delicacy.

Roberta wondered why the great secrecy and reached the conclusion that
Nomie’s general orders had been that she was to do nothing more than
absolutely necessary for the prisoner. When the meal was finished, she
rose to go outside partly because the place was stuffy, and partly
because she wanted to know if she were to be kept within certain
limits. Neither of the natives made any move to detain her and once
beyond the low entrance her first thought was for Nike, but the plane
was nowhere in sight.

The day was clear and in front of the dwelling the rocky land sloped
toward the water. Here and there were stretches of white sand, washed
up by the high tides, and a bit further back the girl could see a
few clusters of shrubs and trees whose sturdy trunks were bent and
twisted as if they had maintained their place despite the gales which
had beaten them without mercy. Walking slowly toward the edge of the
Island, she paused to look back and then discovered that there was
really no house; that the entrance was cut or dug from the face of a
low cliff, nor was there a sign of another habitation.

Roberta’s next thought was to find tracks of her machine, but she
didn’t, nor did she come across any blackened spot which the bon-fire
had left. Trying to reconstruct the place from when she landed on it
she discovered that the highwater mark came to within a few yards of
the cliff, and calculating quickly she figured that there had been at
least two changes in the tide while she slept, so all marks would be
completely obliterated.

As there appeared to be no one to object to her walking about wherever
she chose, the girl proceeded slowly along the edge of the beach, which
was rugged and irregular. Locating the position of the sun did not
help her reach any solution to the question of where she was marooned,
but a bit later when she climbed to the top of a hill she knew without
doubt that she was on an island; and because of the coldness in the air
and the course Mrs. Pollzoff had set when they left Charleston, she
was positive that she was pretty far north. How far, she had no way of
telling. Every few minutes she scanned the sky for a glimpse of Nike or
a rescuing plane, but the heavens were as empty as the vast expanse of
sea that surrounded her.

Figuring the time since anyone she knew had heard of or from her the
girl Sky-Pilot felt positive that a search of some kind must be already
started. She had no hope of the second glove’s having been found, but
if the first one was picked up and passed on to any authority, at least
they would have something upon which to work. Then, if Mr. Wallace’s
invention had not failed, and had been heeded, the men of Lurtiss field
would certainly have further assistance in finding her. Again she
looked about for a trace of the gallant little plane, but found nothing.

“Wonder if anyone has gone up in her,” she remarked to herself. Then
she wondered where Mrs. Pollzoff had gone. She guessed that the woman
was not on this particular island, anyway, then suddenly she sat down
and chuckled. “I’ll bet she’s gone off in Nike, and if she has, that
little buzzer will be her Waterloo, for with the spring down, it will
start again whenever the plane is taken into the air. Wouldn’t it be
topping if Mrs. Pollzoff gets herself caught!” But, although the idea
was certainly amusing, Roberta sighed. “She’s got too much sense,
anyway, to go flying over the country in Nike--she’ll know everyone
will be on the lookout for the machine.”




CHAPTER X

TREACHERY


The realization that Mrs. Pollzoff was too clever a woman to permit
herself to be so easily caught ruined the tiny bit of fun Roberta
had found in days. For minutes she stood, staring out at the sea and
trying desperately to convince herself that she would soon find a way
to escape. At first the fact that she were allowed to go about without
guards and not kept under cover appeared to be a good thing, but as she
thought that over, she made up her mind that this particular island was
so far away from any line of travel or settlement that her captors had
no fear of her being found by plane or boat; and she couldn’t get away,
so they were safe in letting her roam at will.

“No one would take Nike up,” she said aloud because it was pleasant to
hear something beside the ceaseless splash of the water on the shore.
“Then,” she added a bit later, “perhaps it’s still here.” The abode of
Nomie was built in a rock so that anyone passing would not notice that
it was a habitation; so perhaps a similar hiding place had been found
for her plane.

Hopefully she set out again, and this time she investigated every high
rock, shrub, clump of trees, and low cliff. For an hour she continued
the search, and although she half skirted the island, there was little
difference in the scene from one point to another. The sameness of it
all was appallingly dreary. She tried hard to keep thoughts of her
mother and father out of her mind, for she knew just how anxious and
worried they must be. She could picture them listening for the familiar
roar of the machine which would announce her return; running to the
telephone every time it rang, eager for news that didn’t come; hurrying
to the door when the mail-man whistled, only to be disappointed when
he brought no card or letter. Dad was doubtlessly making brave efforts
to assure his wife that their daughter was quite safe--perhaps even
fibbing a bit in an effort to make it easier. He had probably already
got in touch with Mr. Trowbridge and her former flying-mates had been
urged to keep an eye out for their girl Sky-Pilot, as they had dubbed
her.

All those things made her heart sick and she wandered on and on hardly
noticing where she went and twice she had to scramble up over rocks to
get out of water into which her stumbling feet had taken her. At last,
utterly weary and discouraged, she sank down on a hard wide stretch of
sand and buried her head on her arm. Although she was nearly overcome
with discouragement she did not give way to tears, for she knew they
wouldn’t help any. There was nothing she could do but wait, no matter
how long it was. She sat quietly for a quarter of an hour and felt
more rested, then a sort of plan formed itself in her mind. She must
find out just where she was! With that information she might discover
a way to escape. But with that encouraging idea, into her brain popped
a hopeful thought that she would probably be watched to some extent
and any move she made would be immediately reported. As she sat there
feeling desperately lonely, she heard a gruff voice a short distance
further on and recognized the man Wat, but could not see him.

“Well, I’ve fixed her up, just as you want, but whether you like it or
not, I’m telling you it’s no good. My advice--”

“I’m not asking you for your advice.” That harsh voice was none other
than Mrs. Pollzoff’s.

“You’re gettin’ it gratis, see! When the Boss finds out how you balled
up the works you’re going to get plenty, I don’t care how much of a
drag you have with him. He told you what to do and you didn’t do as he
ordered--”

“Will you shut up!” The woman screamed.

“No, I won’t. You haven’t got a leg to stand on--”

“I tell you the girl was having us spied on--”

“You can tell me all you like, but I don’t believe it, see? Now, this
stunt you want to pull is a fizzle--and you’ll get thrown as sure as
you’re born. You were told to stay here and look after the girl--”

“How do you know so much about what I was told?”

“That’s an easy one. I was told that when the pair of you got here
you’d stay, see, so I know those were your orders. If you found you
were spied on, you had your orders to go on to Miami and keep away
from here, and you were to keep out of the pilot seat. Instead of that
you signaled that you were coming along O.K. and it wasn’t until the
re-fill that anyone knew you were at the controls--”

“I brought the plane through, didn’t I? And I gave the fellows that
were spying on us the slip, didn’t I?” There was proud defiance in her
tone.

“I’m not so sure that you did. You got here, yes, with the girl almost
dead, and you flew the plane to satisfy your own conceit--”

“This plane belongs to me, understand, I’m doing what I please with it
and you are obeying my orders regarding it! Bear that in mind. I made
up my mind I was going to have it the first time I rode in it, if I had
to steal it.”

“Yes!” Wat remarked without much interest.

“Yes. Now I’ve got it, it’s mine, I’m keeping it in payment for the
buckshot that girl’s father peppered on my chin. As long as there is
the faintest sign of a scar, I’ll feel they are still in my debt.” She
spoke with such passion that Roberta gasped in amazement and horror.

“Yes. Well, all I’ve got to say is that it’s a pity her father had such
darned poor aim--.” Just then an engine roared and cut off further
remarks, and Roberta leaped to her feet, for she recognized Nike’s
thunder. A moment later it rounded a curve and came rushing swiftly
along the hard stretch of beach.

“Oh, they have painted her white,” the girl gasped. Sure enough,
Nike, all her own beautiful trimming concealed under the color which
would make her hardest to pick out in the sky, was rushing forward
swiftly, gaining speed at every turn of her whirling propeller. With an
exclamation of dismay, Roberta started to run across the beach to her
beloved machine and at that moment, Mrs. Pollzoff saw her. The woman’s
expression grew uglier than anything the girl had ever seen in her life
and with a lurch Nike was spun around sharply; it was tearing after her
and in another minute she would be cut to pieces in that cruel wheel.
The plane’s nose was pointed directly at the girl, rushing like some
maddened demon to destroy her. There was no time to think or act. The
only thing she could do was drop flat on her face and pray.

“God help me,” formed on her lips, but before the words were out of her
mouth, she felt something brush the full length of her body and knew
that the machine had lifted before it touched her and was already two
feet in the air. “Thank you,” she sighed gratefully then raised her
head lest Mrs. Pollzoff discover that by a miracle her fiendish plan
had failed, and turn back to finish it, but Nike was climbing at top
speed and was half way across the island.

“Hurt, Miss?” Wat came running.

“Thank you, no,” she told him.

“You’re mighty lucky.” His rough face was white through its tan and to
relieve his feelings, he shook his fist after the racing plane and its
pilot.

“I hope you fly to perdition,” he shouted.

“Second the motion,” Roberta added, then she began to laugh
hysterically and Wat stared down at her.

“Sure you’re all right?” he asked again.

“Positive,” she told him.

“You sure got a good guardian angel!”

“You don’t seem overly fond of Mrs. Pollzoff.”

“I don’t know anyone who is,” he replied.

“Did you paint Nike--the plane?” she ventured to ask.

“Yes,” he admitted. “She’s got money in these works so I had to,
because she told me to, but it was a hurry-up job just on the outside.
It’s hardly dry yet, but that flying fool couldn’t wait.”

“She did appear to be in a hurry,” the girl remarked.

Roberta didn’t say so, but he had given her the information she
wanted. They had not taken time to go over the inside of the machine
and it was possible that the signal buzzer would be heard by someone.
The girl wanted awfully to ask Wat where they were, but decided against
being too inquisitive.

“I see the kid, Natell, over on the hill. Guess it’s time you got
something more to eat,” he told her.

“That would be welcome,” Roberta replied with a smile. She started
toward the young Indian girl, but Wat called.

“I say, Miss Langwell!”

“Yes.” She turned about.

“Thought I’d tell you it’s about three hundred miles, air line, to the
nearest coast.”

“Three hundred miles!” she exclaimed in dismay.

“Yah, kind of a long stretch when you figure doing it on a raft fer
instance, or a canoe,” he added.

“I hadn’t been thinking of a raft,” she grinned.

“Reckon not, but you might. Building one would be a real good way to
fill in your time, if you’re a good hand with a hammer, but don’t set
no store by it.”

“As a hammerer I’m bad, but I might have tried it. Thanks so much for
the tip.”

“Keep it for what it’s worth,” he replied and strode off in the
opposite direction.

Hurrying toward the waiting Natell, the girl Sky-Pilot’s step was light
for she felt that after all its seeming hopelessness, the hours had not
been devoid of results. She had learned that Wat and his companions
were located on the opposite side of the island, that Mrs. Pollzoff
had gone off in the repainted Nike, whose nose pointed east when she
disappeared on the horizon, which meant that the nearest point of land
was probably that way, three hundred miles. Recalling her maps and
large bodies of water in the north, she wondered if the island was in
the Bering Sea. If it was, the mainland must be Alaska, United States
territory.

If she wasn’t west of Alaska the island might be in one of the
large bodies to the north of Canada, but that wouldn’t make a bit of
difference, for every pilot, worthy of the name, was a citizen of
the world, and the sudden disappearance of one in any part of the
globe immediately aroused the interest of every land. It was a mighty
comforting thought and Roberta was humming a little tune when she
joined Natell, who looked at her with wide eyes.

“That wooden bird could not destroy you,” she said as if she could
hardly believe the evidence of her own optics.

“No.” Roberta was about to explain that while she might have been cut
to shreds, the plane hadn’t really touched her, but then she recalled
reading that Indians have many superstitions and if they believed
that she was favored by the Gods or had a charmed life, they might be
inveigled into helping her escape. She had also read that the natives
succeeded in traveling with their frail crafts over waters a white man,
unless driven by desperation, would refuse to attempt; and safely reach
ports unbelievably distant. The pair reached the dug-out and the young
girl immediately started to speak swiftly to her mother in their own
tongue and the girl Sky-Pilot guessed that the older woman was getting
the details of the miraculous escape of their white charge. Nomie’s own
eyes widened during the recital and at its close, she crossed herself
piously.

“Eat,” she invited.

“Thank you.”

The evening meal consisted of reindeer meat, dried potatoes baked in
a sort of pancake form, cornbread which was whiter than that she had
eaten earlier in the day, coffee sweetened with canned milk, and a
paste of dried fruits. The girl was mighty hungry and she ate her full
share, but she watched that she did not overstep the bounds of good
breeding. She realized that probably every mouthful had to be brought
at regular intervals, not too close together, from the distant mainland
and that the rations of Nomie and Natell were necessarily doled out
with care so the supplies would not be depleted before they could be
replenished. The food tasted good and Nomie seemed to appreciate the
fact that her guest or prisoner was not too finical.

Glancing about the primitive living quarters, Roberta thought of her
mother and recalled long ago days when she was a little girl, with
a little girl’s likes and dislikes for different foods. Then, Mrs.
Langwell had told her if she would learn to eat anything put before
her, when she grew up she would save herself all sorts of unpleasant
experiences and keep from being classified by her friends as too much
of a nuisance to have around when they were inviting guests.

“It’s a mighty good thing Mom taught me that,” she said to herself,
“for I certainly have landed in all sorts of places, been given all
sorts of things to eat, and it has always been jolly.” She thought of
“Pa and Ma Perkins,” into whose treacherous “backyard” she had brought
the Wallace’s when she was flying blind through a bad fog.

But it wasn’t possible, in the face of her present dilemma to keep
her mind on experiences of the past and as she thought of what she
had seen of the island Roberta wondered if there was any sort of
wireless station on it. She hadn’t seen anything like an antenna, but
it seemed hardly possible that the men stationed here had no means of
communicating with the outside world. Immediately she began to think
seriously of the radio. One of the men had said that Mrs. Pollzoff
had signaled that all was O.K. when she was flying toward them. She
must have carried some sort of instrument which she had used, but,
rack her brain as hard as she could, Roberta couldn’t recall a moment
when a communication had been sent out. To be sure it might have been
done when she was unconscious; also it might have been done on Nike’s
radio, but that was not equipped to send. If a station picked her up
there were certain signals she could send, a sort of code; also, if Mr.
Wallace’s special apparatus was sprung, she could reply to questions,
but in order to do that she had to press a switch, which looked like
one of the screws on the dial-board. This fact was known to only a few
officials inside and outside of the Lurtiss organization; Mrs. Pollzoff
was ignorant of their existence, so she could not very well avail
herself of them.

The girl Sky-Pilot resolved that on the following day she would
search for a radio. Ever since she could remember, Harvey had built
them, so she grew up with more than an average understanding of their
construction and operation; also, she had learned more during her
period of training at Lurtiss Field for Mr. Wallace considered that a
pilot who did not understand sending and receiving, as well as rig-up,
was only half trained. Now, if she could locate a set here she would
watch for an opportunity to send out an S.O.S. But she would have to
find out first where she was located; just saying that she was on an
island which she thought was in the Bering Sea would not be much help.
Not only the Bering Sea but every large body of water had numberless
uncharted islands and this particular one was probably chosen by the
Boss, whoever he was, because of its location and apparent barrenness.

When the meal was finished Roberta offered to help Nomie, but she was
brushed aside, although not unkindly, so she went out again. The sun
was still high and the girl realized that because she was a good way
north there would be a great difference in the length of the days and
nights, and she wondered if she would see any of the marvelous coloring
and brilliant spectacles of which she had read, but the heavens were
clouding over, and far in the horizon she discovered a mist which
looked very much like a gathering fog.

“Hope it isn’t going to be as thick as it was the other day when we
landed,” she remarked, and as she knew a great deal about the density
and speed of the all-enveloping mists, she kept her eye on it to be
sure that she did not wander too far away. Recalling the treachery
of the shore line she had no doubt that she could very quickly lose
herself. Observation was also a branch of an aviator’s training,
besides it was a part of Roberta’s nature, so as she walked slowly in
the opposite direction from that she had taken earlier in the day, she
carefully noted every rock, counted her steps when she crossed smooth
stretches, and turned about frequently so that she would be familiar
with the appearance of the landscape when she returned.

She had been walking nearly an hour by her watch, which she had kept
running although she knew the time must be different on the Island
than it was at home, when she noticed a hill which rose gradually a
short distance in front of her. The fog was coming in, but she was sure
she could manage to get back safely, so she proceeded until she was
standing on the top. There she discovered that it extended in a long,
narrow plateau which seemed almost straight, but as she went along she
saw that it curved slightly toward the water. The wind was blowing so
cold that she wrapped her coat around her tightly and decided to go
on and see what it was like on the other side. The surface was not
entirely flat; in places it dipped slightly, as if worn down by storms,
and in a couple of sections were wide cracks, such as those made by ice
in the crevices of rocks.

The whole flat was deadly monotonous and Roberta was about to return
before she was caught in the fog, when suddenly, as if from beneath her
feet, she heard a confusion of strange sounds. Breaking the island’s
solitude as it did, it made her jump, and then, controlling her nerves,
she paused to listen. It seemed to her as if it was some kind of an
animal, then after a moment she wondered if it could be a baby, but she
instantly dismissed that idea. Walking back carefully to the widest
crack she had crossed, she bent over to hear better, then got down on
her stomach to see what might be there. It occurred to her that some
young animal might have fallen through and was unable to climb out;
it might be hurt and she could help it. But the crevice was dark and
then she heard the noises again and distinguished voices. Quickly she
pressed her ear close, then jumped, for a hand was laid on her shoulder.




CHAPTER XI

A FIGHT IN THE NIGHT


That hand gripping her shoulder made Roberta’s heart skip a beat, but
after a moment when it didn’t yank her to her feet she gathered courage
to look around. To her great relief she saw that it was Nomie.

“Fog coming,” the Indian said, scarcely above a whisper.

“I’ll come,” Roberta answered quickly and rose to her feet. Her
companion put her fingers over her lips, which the girl understood to
mean that they must keep very quiet, then the pair hurried stealthily
across the plateau. When they were well below the hill, Nomie paused,
her face very sober.

“Keep way from cracks,” she said briefly.

“I thought it was a baby animal of some kind. I was going to help it
up if I could,” she explained and Nomie looked at her searchingly.
“That is true,” Roberta added emphatically.

“Good,” Nomie appeared relieved and willing to believe the story, but
she went on. “Noises you hear, things you know not, pay no heed to. I
give you leave to walk; you will make me trouble--”

“I’ll be mighty careful,” Roberta put in hastily. “You have been very
good to me and I appreciate it.”

“Speak not of the noise or the crack,” the woman urged.

“Not a word to anyone.”

“Busy yourself with watching the sky,” was the woman’s advice.

“All right,” she promised, but her mind was endeavoring to solve the
mystery of the plateau.

Roberta thought it might be the living quarters of Wat and the men,
but if that was all, why had Nomie been so fearful? There was certainly
something going on under those rocks which was a secret that was
guarded with extreme care and if it had been one of the men who had
discovered her trying to fathom it, things might go very hard with
her. From what the Indian woman said, the white girl gathered that she
was expected to keep a close watch on her prisoner, and an exhibition
of too much inquisitiveness would surely cost her what liberty she
enjoyed. Presently they reached the dug-out, and after watching the
woman gather some bits of driftwood from the beach, they went inside.

“Go to bed,” Nomie said quietly. “Sleep very sound,” she added “You be
sick if get no rest.”

“I’m not tired,” Roberta answered, but there was something in the
woman’s eyes which seemed to plead with her to obey, so greatly
puzzled, she added, “Not very tired, but I believe I’ll feel better if
I lie down for a while.”

“Good,” the woman answered. “Just like you are, lie down,” She tugged
at the pillows piled on the corner bed, and guessing that she was to
be hidden, Roberta stretched herself among them. A moment later anyone
coming into the room, unless they knew that she was there, would not
have noticed her.

For minutes Roberta lay still as a mouse, every nerve tense to know
what was going to happen, but as the time went on and she did not
hear anything more than the splashing of the waves against the rocks
outside, the drip of heavy fog, which had rolled in thickly, and the
Indian woman moving about the dug-out, her mind leaped back to the
discovery of the crack on the plateau, and to wondering what the
mystery could be. Then, suddenly she heard a whining noise, something
like the sounds beneath the rocks, followed by a gruff barking and
snorting, which could not belong to a dog. It kept up for an hour, then
seemed to die down, and, because effects of the strain she had been
through had not entirely worn off, her eyelids closed and she drifted
off to sleep, but not quite soundly enough to make her absolutely
oblivious of her surroundings. Into her lulled brain leaped a train
of thoughts, half dream and half reality. The past and the present,
the possible and the impossible in a conglomeration of fancies, but
suddenly her eyes popped wide open and every faculty was alert.

The first thing she saw was Nomie standing near the bed, but her
head was turned toward the door and her body was stiff, as if she
anticipated some great danger. Not daring to move, Roberta listened,
then she heard the unmistakable scraping of a boat on the rocks as
if it were being shoved high to prevent its being taken out by the
tide. This was followed by men’s gruff voices, and finally the sound
of stamping feet making their way to the Indian’s house. Just then a
distant voice hailed the newcomers, and Nomie said something scarcely
above a whisper to Natell, who jumped up from the other side of the
room, hurried across to her mother and then quickly parting the nearest
heavy draperies, the young girl disappeared.

From out on the darkening beach there came the sound of an exchange
of calls, then it seemed to Roberta as if the man who had greeted
the boatmen must have joined them, for his voice was mingled with
the others. All that she could make out of the conversation was its
punctuation of oaths, and while this was going on, Nomie stepped
stealthily to the door, got back of it and started to close it, but
it was made of heavy timbers and did not move easily. Just as she was
about to give it the last shove, a great boot was stuck over the sill,
and a drunken voice brawled.

“Gwan, No-mee, none of that. Give me something to drink!”

“Got none,” she answered.

“Sure you have. Come across with it quick.”

“Got none,” she repeated. “Go Wat for some. He keeps,” she answered.
“Go way, you get killed the Boss find you here.”

“Sure I will, but he’s too far away to find me,” the man laughed
wickedly, then shouted to the others, “Come on! Nomie’s trying to hold
out on us! Give me a hand!”

“Say, don’t do that! The Boss will be mad as anything and you know the
last time you smashed things he told you that after the next spree he’d
kill you! You were on your knees with the barrel of gun in your mouth.”
The man who was speaking was the one who had called, so Roberta judged
that he must be a member of the group on the island.

“Well, tell her to open the door. I’m not going to smash anything.
I want some coffee; the woman can make me some.” The voice was
considerably less belligerent, but the fellow was just intoxicated
enough to be stubborn.

“Go back to the boat and get your own cook to make you a barrel of
coffee. Let the woman alone, I tell you, or I’ll send for Wat.”

“Yes, you’ll send fer Wat--well, who’ll you send, Brick Top, one of my
crew? I’ll shoot the first man that stirs a leg.”

“Now, look here, Cap, you get back in the boat and go about your
business, and I won’t say a word about seeing you here. If you don’t
beat it, you’re going to make trouble for your whole crew. Go on back
and sleep it off, then come over and get the cargo,” Brick Top urged.

“Come along, Cap, he’s givin’ you good talk. If you don’t, we’ll take
the boat and pull back without you, see?” That was one of the crew, and
others of its members, evidently not caring to share in the captain’s
punishment if he persisted in disobeying, backed him up quickly. In a
moment by the sounds, Cap was being led meekly away, but suddenly his
voice rose again.

“I’m not going to my ship till I say how-de-do to Nomie. I ain’t
landing on her shore an’ goin’ off ’sif I ain’t a gentleman.” Then
followed a scuffle and soon the Cap, leering broadly, had forced his
way into the house. “Ain’t goin’ ’way--”

“Get him away,” Nomie shrieked.

“Aw, shut up, woman. Bible says women should keep still. You’re makin’
too much noise--”

“Come out of there,” Brick Top snapped angrily.

“Blowed if I do,” retorted the Cap, and with a powerful swing of his
arm, the back of his hand struck Brick Top such a resounding blow that
he reeled across the room. “You’re like Nomie, you say too much with
your mouth.” But the younger man recovered himself quickly and sprang
at the drunken captain.

“You fool,” he roared furiously, “will you get out?”

“No,” Cap bellowed, mightily encouraged by the success of his first
attack. “And no blasted redhead’s going to make me.”

“No? Well, you’ll change your tune,” Red snapped.

“Come on, Cap,” one of the crew urged. They were crowding in the door,
and one of them tried to catch the captain’s collar, but he lolled
aside, then, with head down like a charging bull, he rushed at the
smaller man, caught him about the waist, lifted him in the air and
would have broken his back in another moment if Nomie hadn’t thrown a
kettle which struck him in the head. This dazed him for an instant so
that his hold was broken and Red wriggled out of his grasp, but his
tight-fitting fur cap saved the captain from more serious damage.

“Oh, you’ll hit me from behind,” he howled, believing Red responsible
for the blow. He leaped at the young fellow and immediately the pair
were in the throes of such a violent conflict that it did not seem
possible that either of them could come out alive. They crashed in
first one corner then the other with lightning speed, and as Roberta
heard and caught glimpses of the horrible spectacle she was nearly
overcome with nausea. She thought that any moment the built-in bed
would be ripped from the wall to which it was fastened and she wondered
dully why none of the crew interfered. Then she found herself trying to
calculate just how long it would be before the courageous little Red
would be reduced to an unrecognizable mass of flesh.

It occurred to the girl Sky-pilot that it was because of her presence
that Red had so strenuously objected to the captain’s entering the
dugout, and thinking back, she believed that Nomie must have sighted
the boat on the water. That would explain her reason for wanting the
white girl out of sight when the small boat came ashore with the
men whose rough temper was well known to her. By that time the two
bodies crashed against the foot of the bed and a huge hand clutched
the pillows to keep him from falling, but Cap’s foot slipped on the
wet floor. He flung himself up with all his strength, clutched at the
upright support, but under his weight the sapling gave way, the corner
of the bed came down with its pile of protecting pillows cascading into
the room. Quick as a flash, Roberta rolled to the further side, but the
tumbling piece of furniture prevented her from keeping out of sight, so
she was forced to get to her feet close to the wall, what was left of
the bed--rolling in front of her. Just as Cap raised his ugly head and
caught sight of her terrified white face, the huge form of Wat rushed
in and hurled forward, the man’s legs whipped about the captain’s body
like a powerful vise, one hand snatched back the fur hat while the
other brought the butt end of a gun down on the man’s head so hard that
he was immediately knocked unconscious. During the last part of the
fight, the curious crew had crowded into the room, and now Wat turned
on them. Beyond the door, Roberta caught a glimpse of Slim and other
familiar faces, set grimly, while the barrel of more than one gun was
in evidence.

“What are you fellows doing here?” he demanded sharply.

“Cap ordered us to bring him over,” the nearest boatman replied.

“We gotta obey the captain’s orders on a boat or it’s mutiny,” another
took up defiantly.

“Yes?”

“Yes.” This came from several voices.

“Well, let me tell you something. There isn’t a man jack of you who
does not know perfectly well that the captain’s jurisdiction is a very
limited one. Your boat was posted with orders every one of you could
read, and you were told to remain aboard until I sent for you, or gave
you sailing orders. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes,” one of the men at the back admitted reluctantly.

“Slim!” called Wat.

“Right here.” Slim answered.

“Have some of the boys put these fellows in irons, and you’d better
leave two or three to swab deck and mend the furniture.”

“Right-O. Want them aboard the ship or here?”

“On the island,” Wat answered after a moment’s hesitation. Then he
heaved the unconscious body of the captain through the door to be
dragged out by some of Slim’s company. Slim gave sharp orders.

“Round em up an’ rope em, then, forward march,” the young fellow
ordered with a mixture of soldier and cowboy.

“We can’t march the captain, Slim.”

“Leave somebody to guard him while you get a stretcher,” Slim replied
as if he was getting a great deal of satisfaction out of his job at
that particular moment.

“Are you hurt, Miss Langwell?” Wat asked and his voice still sounded as
if he was in command of a company.

“No, I’m not, thank you,” she said with a sob, which she promptly
smothered. “Oh, oh, I’m so glad you came--I never saw anything so
ghastly--”

“I hope you never do again,” he told her quietly. “But, I want the
truth. You are really not hurt, the fighters didn’t touch you, or that
bunk injure you? Don’t be afraid, let Nomie take care of you if you are
not perfectly O.K.”

“I am perfectly all right,” she assured him.

“Good,” he gave a little sigh of relief then snapped again: “Slim.”

“Coming,” shouted Slim.

“Take Miss Langwell out and walk with her along the beach. The fog
isn’t so bad now and the fresh air will help her recover quickly. Are
the rest of the men on the job?”

“Yes, sir, everyone.”

“Let me walk with Mr. Slim too,” Natell begged as she bobbed up from
somewhere.

“If your mother doesn’t need you,” Wat smiled at the little girl.
“You’ve been a great kid tonight, and the next boat that comes in is
going to bring something mighty nice for you.”

“You bet,” Slim added with a grin. “That boat will have two nice things
for you. I’ll get my sister to buy you something dandy.”

“Good,” Nomie nodded, so Natell joined the pair as they made their way
out onto the beach. A bucket brigade was already marching toward the
door with brimming pails of water to “swab deck.”

“Did Natell go for you?” Roberta asked. She was thinking of how the
little girl had disappeared among the draperies just before the arrival
of the boatmen.

“Sure she did, and how!” Slim answered unsuspectingly, then his
companion knew that there was at least two ways of getting in and out
of the Indian woman’s home, and she resolved that sometime she would
explore it if she were ever left alone.

“In my luggage I have some strings of colored beads,” the white girl
went on. “They are not much, just sort of attractive. You must let me
give her some of them right away because it will be a long time before
you and Wat can get your presents here, won’t it?”

“Be a few weeks,” Slim admitted cautiously. “Sure, give her some of
yours if you like. Can’t be any objection to that.”

“All right, Natell, tomorrow you shall have a nice long string of red
beads, the prettiest ones I have.”

“Good,” the girl replied softly, apparently understanding that Roberta
had overcome the necessity for secrecy regarding the string she already
had.

“If you like one of the others, you may have two strings,” Roberta
added, no end relieved that the matter of the gift was so simply
settled.

“Better walk carefully here,” Slim warned, as he changed places with
her so that she was on the inside of the beach. “Sort of treacherous at
night; beastly in the fog.”

“It feels good to be out,” Roberta told him as they went on. For half
an hour they walked, saying little, until the density of the mist
began to chill the white girl, then they returned to the dugout, which
except for the wetness of the recent “swabbing,” and strips of new
boards nailed over the broken furniture, looked exactly as it had
before the invasion of the belligerent captain. They found Wat smoking
thoughtfully before the door, and after bidding the women good-night,
the two men strode off into the darkness. The walk had tired her, so
Roberta was really glad to go to bed and in spite of the horrors of
the night, she soon dropped off into a sound sleep. When she awakened
in the morning, the two Indians were already busy with some task, and
Nomie lost no time in preparing food for her charge.

“Go fishing,” she informed Roberta when the meal was finished, so,
after adding a string of blue beads to the red ones Natell was proudly
showing that morning, and adding a storm coat to her costume, the girl
Sky-Pilot followed the women out into the sunlight, for every bit of
fog had been dispelled. They cut across the island toward the northwest
and on a smooth little cove, tugged a deep canoe, which certainly had
not been there the day before when the white girl did her exploring.

“The island must be full of hiding places,” she remarked to herself,
and wondered how much it concealed. By that time Roberta was so full
of the mystery of the place that being marooned or imprisoned there
was receding further back in her brain; although nothing could make
her forget the anxiety she knew must weigh down her own home in far
away Long Island, but she determined that if she ever succeeded in
getting away, she would be able to give some real information as to
what enterprise was conducted there. She thought of Mr. Howe, and then
it occurred to her that she was to have had a mission with him. “It
couldn’t have been more exciting than this thing I’ve stumbled, or been
piloted into.”

“Sit here.” Nomie designated with a nod a thin cushion in the middle
of the boat, which reminded the white girl of pictures she had seen of
native-made crafts. She took her place cautiously, for it looked as if
it would take very little to turn the thing over, but Natell hopped in
one end, then with a short paddle held the boat steady until her mother
was safely in the other. Without a word the pair dipped their paddles
and the canoe shot speedily over the water, going toward the northwest.

“Little island, much fish,” Nomie remarked and Roberta didn’t know
whether she was speaking of the land they were leaving behind, or
another one.

“Is that so,” she replied, and Nomie, who was facing her, nodded.

They sped along over the blue water, occasionally pausing to drop a
line, and once the Indian woman set a trawler which glistened as it
dragged yards behind them. Natell seemed to keep an eye on this, but
nothing was caught, and after an hour they reached another island,
almost as barren as the one they had left. They sent the boat slowly
in and out among jagged rocks and the white girl marveled that they
were not dashed against the sharp edges which protruded dangerously all
about them.

“Like go shore?” Nomie asked. “Nice shells. Tide going down.”

“That will be fine,” Roberta agreed readily, so the canoe’s nose was
shot into an opening between two great wall-like cliffs which looked
as if at one time it had been a solid mass. The woman steadied the
boat while the girl climbed ashore, and Natell pointed to a series of
shelves.

“Climb to top easy,” she smiled.

“Shout if tired. We call when ready,” Nomie added to the directions,
when at last they were ready to pull off. “Take care.”

“Thank you,” Roberta answered. She wasn’t particularly interested
in the island, but she was mighty grateful at the opportunity to be
alone for a while. She hoped that in the solitude some practical plan
would present itself, and she also wondered if this fishing expedition
had been gotten up in order to get her out of the way. She recalled
that something had been said the night before about a “load” for the
captain’s boat, so perhaps Wat did not want an audience while this
was going on. Then she remembered that she had not caught sight of
the vessel, but she hadn’t thought of it that morning, so she had not
looked. It was doubtless lying-to out beyond the shallow water.

Accepting Natell’s suggestion, Roberta climbed to the top of the cliff,
which was not very high, then wandered about aimlessly until she came
to a long point of wide flat rock which was scarcely above the water.
Here she saw quite a collection of brightly colored shells, and as the
tide was going out, she started to gather a few of them. Paying little
attention to how many steps she took, she went on and on until her
hands were full, then glancing up, she saw a short distance ahead was
another island, smaller than the one she was on, and the great ledge
appeared to join on it. The second island was dense with timber, whose
dark green was a great relief after the monotony of sea, sky and white
sands, so, watching her step she proceeded and presently was standing
under the wide spreading branches of a grove of scrub evergreen.

“Now I appreciate trees more than I ever did before.” Glancing back at
the ledge, which the dropping tide revealed more and more, she felt it
safe to proceed and thoroughly enjoy the wonderful treat. Some places
she couldn’t get through at all, but for several minutes she proceeded
inland, then, suddenly she stopped, stared, rubbed her eyes and looked
again, for well concealed in the underbrush, but unmistakable, was a
tip of an airplane wing. Her first thought was that some pilot had been
brought down and she parted the brush to investigate.

“Reach for the sky, you, and don’t turn around!” The command was
snapped out sharply and Roberta’s hands went over her head without
delay.




CHAPTER XII

A SECOND CAPTIVE


“Keep ’em up.”

Roberta’s heart hammered, but she misunderstood the last part of the
order, and faced about quickly.

“Say, what are you doing; I told you not to turn around!”

“I’m not,” Roberta retorted.

“You’re--say, you’re a girl!” A decidedly unkempt looking young man,
with nothing more deadly in his hands than a knotted stick, came toward
her quickly. “You look like Langwell, the Lurtiss kid pilot.”

“I am Roberta Langwell and I’m not a kid,” she replied indignantly as
she dropped her hands.

“Sure, I saw you when you were touring with the Wallaces. What the--
that is, I mean, what are you doing up here?” His hand went to his
collar as if to adjust his tie, but there was none there, and a look of
dismay spread over his bewhiskered features. “My name’s Arnold, but I’m
no relation to the guy who tried to betray his country.”

“I am a prisoner, Mr. Arnold,” she told him.

“You look it. Tell me another,” he answered.

“Just the same, that’s the truth,” she replied, and then, as there was
a stump handy, she sat down. “Please don’t let me keep you standing.
Are we in the Bering Sea?” Arnold sat down with a chuckle.

“The island is,” he told her.

“What islands are they, I mean, what are their names?”

“Don’t believe these have any because they are not very large, but they
belong to the Pribilof group. I believe this is the farthest north and
it’s a bit over three hundred miles to Alaska.”

“Thanks,” she said with a sigh. “It’s mighty nice to know where one
is at. I was piloting for a woman called Pollzoff; and she fed me some
kind of dope that knocked me out, then tied me up like a chicken ready
to roast, and brought me to an island below here.”

“Pollzoff?”

“Yes.”

“Go on and tell me the rest.” There was no doubt in his tone or manner
now.

“Guess I’m what is called kidnaped,” Roberta began, then told him
quickly all that had happened to her right up to that moment.

“You certainly have been having a terrible time,” he remarked soberly.
“What was that spring thing in your plane?”

“It’s an invention of Mr. Wallace’s and I really cannot tell much
about it except that it’s tuned with the radio stations’ broadcasting
band and when it is open, if the signal is investigated, Nike can be
located.”

“That’s rich! And Pollzoff went off in your plane; flying right
into the arms of the police looking for you. Wish I could see the
performance.”

“I don’t believe she will do anything so stupid as fly into anyone’s
arms, but just the same, they can find out where Nike goes, that is, if
the thing works. Now, tell me, what are you doing here?”

“Sort of a prisoner myself,” he answered.

“Oh, did somebody catch you?”

“In a way, yes. I was one of the war air-kids, and after that didn’t
want to do anything but fly, but the woods were full of fellows trying
to do the same thing and the jobs were almost as few and far apart
as hen’s teeth. Well, I grubbed around like a ground-hog at a desk I
finally landed until I saved enough money to buy a plane.”

“Yes,” Roberta was intensely interested.

“That was before Col. Lindbergh made the air a place for Americans to
fly in and while I hopped about, here, there and several other places
I wasn’t exactly a bright and shining success. Then one day I answered
an advertisement I read in a middle west paper and took off on a job
that seemed too good to be true. As they told me I would be working for
a chain of business firms, I swallowed it hook, line and sinker, with
the pole and reel thrown in, and didn’t think anything of it when I
carried males and females all over the map. I figured they were members
of boards, big business stuff with headquarters scattered.” He paused
again and frowned.

“I see,” the girl encouraged.

“I’d been with them a year, and had a real roll in the bank before I
made my first trip to Alaska with any of them. It was six months after
that before I went over to the Pribilof Islands--”

“Is that where we are?”

“Yes, but not the main ones. They are a bit further south, but these
little fellows I guess are all on the same range, like an underseas
chain of mountains,” he answered, then went on. “I carried mail,
supplies and stuff back and forth between them and the mainland,
sometimes down to the Aleutian Islands. The Indian woman you call Nomie
is an Aleut.”

“I wondered.”

“That’s what she is. Her husband was a seal fisher and got killed when
the kid was little. They had the dugout and lived where you’re being
held so she stayed and worked for the gang, she nurses them when they
get sick, and all that sort of thing.”

“She’s been mighty nice to me,” Roberta said quickly.

“She’s a darned good Indian and she had to make her living somehow,
same as a lot of the rest of us.”

“Of course,” Roberta agreed.

“At first I hopped on Nomie’s island and hopped off again within an
hour. Sometimes I took a bale of furs that I thought the other Indians
had left there to be sold in the States or Canada. Gee--this story is
stretching out and we gotta remember that tide.”

“It was going down,” Roberta told him.

“Yes, I know it. Well then I began to make longer stops and carry
bigger loads, and after a while I happened to pick up a magazine with
an article and pictures of the Pribilofs. It told about the seal
fishing, how there used to be thousands of the beasts killed every year
even at mating time. The United States bought the islands from Russia
along with Alaska in 1867 and made laws to prevent the seals being
exterminated. Before the war, 1911 I think it was, the United States,
Japan, Great Britain and Russia made a treaty agreeing that the white
men were not to do any more seal slaughtering. The Indians, because
they don’t do it in such wholesale lots and because it means the only
means of living to a great many of them, are the only people who can
kill the migrating seals. They have to do it in canoes with spears or
harpoons, can’t use guns or motor boats. It was a mighty interesting
article, told how the seals start up in pairs from all over the country
to raise their young ones.”

“Why sure, there’s a wonderful story Rudyard Kipling wrote called The
White Seal. My mother read it to me when I was a kid, and I always
loved it. The White Seal went to an Island called St. Paul’s.”

“That’s it. I liked that story too. Well, I knew radio as well as
flying, so by and by I had to relieve the regular chap at that.”

“I’ve wondered if they have a radio.”

“They have, but it isn’t much of one. It’s just used for signals.
While I was doing that I discovered that when the seals came up in
April and all through the summer, a bunch of them were run through a
sort of pen and killed. There aren’t as many of them coming up now
as there used to be but the gang goes after them any old way and
slaughters two hundred times more than the Indians bring in every
season. It was while I was there that Wat was put in charge. I figured
he was in the same boat with me; that he had been working for them for
a long time before they let him get hep to what was going on, then
they’d sunk him so deep he couldn’t do anything but hang on; besides
he’s got a kid sister in Saranac trying to get a permanent T. B. cure
and that costs a lot of money. I know because he asked me to drop down
there one time and pay the bill--it was some bill, and I saw the kid,
she’s only about thirteen years old.”

“That’s too bad,” Roberta said.

“Sure. Well, I’m free, white, and twenty-one, and when I figured I
was signed up with a bunch of crooks I made up my mind to quit. I
got a full-sized fondness for my Uncle Sam, been batting about other
countries a lot, so while I don’t think the United States hasn’t room
for improvement, it suits me right down to the ground, and I haven’t
any hankering to end my brilliant career in a Federal prison while the
guy I work for stays hidden and lets me hold the bag. First I thought
Pollzoff was the head of the thing, then I heard Wat tell her where to
get off at a couple of times for not obeying orders, but she’s got some
money invested in the business so does somewhat as she pleases.”

“I wish she hadn’t picked on me,” Roberta said ruefully.

“She got everlastingly sore when she could not get a license, and I
figure, from what you say, that while she was flying around with you,
she got jealous because you landed what she couldn’t. When a woman
of her type gets jealous, she’s deadlier than a whole herd of males.
Probably they planned to get you to work for them as a sort of blind,
but she couldn’t wait, and shoved the works hard. Anyway, when I made
up my mind to quit, I knew I had to do it mighty carefully. I wasn’t
leaving Nomie’s very often then and it wasn’t easy, but finally one day
I started off in the plane, that was about six weeks ago, but they must
have been wise. Wat wasn’t there that day and the fellow in charge had
the machine gun turned on me before I could get very high. The shot
ripped off my tail but I gave the bus the gas and went on just the
same. Couldn’t do a very good job of steering, and it was foggy, so
this is as far as I got. Now, you know all about me.” He stared ahead
with a scowl.

“My goodness, how have you managed to live? Were you hurt when you came
down?”

“Hurt some, sure, but not bad. Got a crack on my head that seems to
have affected my eyes. Then I discovered a vessel wrecked off the other
side and managed to salvage her stores. Hunted for some of the crew but
none of them got as far as the island, I guess. Been trying to fix up
the bird again, but it’s been slow work and I’ve been wondering if I
can fly her when she is finally fixed.”

“Well, if you can’t,” Roberta said eagerly, “I can.”

“By Jove, that’s so. Tell you what, you go back with Nomie and come
here again. Know how to paddle a canoe?”

“A little, but I could never manage one of the native boats.”

“Get Natell to teach you. Take advantage of everything you can while
you’re stranded. The whole country will be looking for you by this
time, and they won’t stop. Nobody knows I disappeared, but maybe when
they get you out, someone will help me.”

“Of course they will. Do you think I’ll go off without you?” Roberta
demanded indignantly. Wasn’t he a fellow pilot in distress? “And, when
we get to the United States you can have your eyes attended to and
they’ll be all right again.”

“Say, funny thing. I’ve heard about you in a lot of different places
and from different people, and the same phrase popped into my head that
I’ve heard about you. They all say, you’re a great kid, but,” he added
hastily, “They don’t mean that you’re a baby, or anything like that;
and I don’t either, you know what I mean.”

“Sure,” she agreed heartily.

“Now, while we’ve been talking, I’ve got a sort of plan.”

“What is it?”

“You go back with Nomie. Don’t say a word about seeing me, and come
with her again as often as she’ll fetch you. Perhaps they’ll let you
have a little boat. I can’t put up any kind of signal for I don’t want
them to spot me before I’m ready to take off. You don’t do any more
snooping around because I know the whole works and you might get into
further difficulties. Just keep your eyes open ordinarily and wait.
I’ll look around for you every day and see you when you are coming
this way, then if you have any news you can tell me, and if I think of
anything more, I can tell you. I’ll go on, finishing the plane, and if
we don’t get away before that’s ready, we can make a plan to give them
the slip. There was a small boat on that vessel and I’ve got it hauled
up under some weeds; haven’t thought of using it, but we may be glad to
have it,” he proposed eagerly and Roberta was intensely interested.

“That’s a corking plan.”

“I don’t suppose you have any of your instruments.”

“They are all in Nike.”

“I have a pocket compass off the ship, a real good one. You take it
back with you and keep it out of sight. If you should come alone, it
will help you.” He gave her the highly sensitive instrument and after
examining it carefully, she dropped it into the pocket of her blouse.

“May I see the plane?”

“Sure.” He swept an armful of boughs and sand off the machine showing
that he had not only been working on the plane, but had cleared a
take-off space which he covered again. “Nomie and Natell come up around
the other end of these twin islands for fish and wood a couple of times
a week, but neither have been over here yet. You’re my first caller and
I guess I didn’t give you a very polite reception.” He noticed that the
girl, although she made a hasty examination of the plane, seemed to see
every detail.

“Your reception was all right and the bus looks great. It’s a wonder to
me that you didn’t have more of a crack-up than you did when you came
down.”

“I tried my darndest to save the pieces,” he grinned.

“And you’ve got these parts fixed evenly. Why you’re doing a bang-up
job. Did you find tools on the vessel?”

“Sure, a whole load of them in the carpenter’s outfit. Don’t know where
the tub came from, her name was scraped off, but I surely thanked
Providence for depositing the boat right here. There is still some of
her left. Perhaps, next time you come you can go around and see what’s
left of her if the sea doesn’t bang her up.”

“I should like to very much,” Roberta answered, then went on a bit
anxiously. “Guess I’d better not linger too long now or Nomie might
take it into her head to come looking for me. Now that we’ve talked
over the plan I won’t try to do any investigating. I suppose that crack
I saw and the noise I heard is the place where the seals are driven and
killed.”

“That’s right, it is, although the seals do not come up in any great
numbers any more. Be mighty careful to let them all think over there
that you haven’t any interest in what they are doing. Wat’s pretty
decent, as decent as he can be, but he’s only one. He and Slim are in
a bad crowd of rough-necks. You had a sample of that last night, so be
careful,” he urged.

“I will,” she promised. “It’s much easier now that I know where I am
located and something about the place. Wonder who the big Boss of the
whole thing is?”

“So do I, but the information we have may help in catching the Chief
Mogul himself.”

“We’ll hope so.”

“You know, that stranded vessel sounds mighty mysterious to me.”

“She is mysterious, but I’ve been so busy with my own troubles I
haven’t given her very much thought. I’ll see what I can learn from
what is left of her. Perhaps we can solve that mystery too, since we’ve
gone into the business,” he laughed.

“I’ll trot along. If Nomie brings me this way again, or I can come
alone, how will I find you, by coming around here?” she asked.

“If I see that you are alone I’ll come down to the beach or one of the
coves and meet you,” he replied. “I’ll come with you now to the ledge
and see that you get over all right. You don’t want to slide off into
the Bering. It’s cold and wet all the way to the bottom, and that’s a
good mile.”

Presently the two had reached the ledge, found the water a foot lower
than when she crossed earlier, so she hurried forward while he watched
closely, ready to spring at the first sign of danger, but she reached
the other side safely.

“I hear Natell,” she called back to him. “So long!”

“S’long, Sky-Pilot,” he answered.

Roberta ran as fast as she could to the nearest point and saw the canoe
moving swiftly toward the end of the island, but when the Indians
sighted her, they paddled more slowly. The white girl, in her trim
aviation suit stood an instant outlined against the blue sky as she
paused to glance back toward the wooded island where she saw Arnold
outlined dimly against the dark green of the forest behind him, then
she hurried toward the bit of beach where Nomie and Natell waited.

Riding back from the twin-islands to Nomie’s in the bottom of the
native canoe, Roberta’s heart beat confidently and she felt that her
guardian angel had certainly been more than careful of her welfare,
but it was mighty difficult to hold her face straight, her lips from
smiling complacently or joyously. She managed to control herself, to
keep her mouth from betraying her, and it was not difficult to either
drop her lids or gaze out over the dancing waters of Bering Sea. It
was great to know where she was and she resolved to follow Arnold’s
instructions to the letter and make no move which would arouse the
suspicions of the men on the island. She would avoid being more than
ordinarily interested in her surroundings, and at least appear not to
be too observant of what went on around her.

The white girl sighed with relief when she saw the desolate island loom
up suddenly, looking for all the world as if not a living soul ever
went within miles of it.

Presently the canoe shot into a cove and Nomie nodded for her to land,
so, while they steadied the boat, she stepped ashore. Immediately
the women bent to the oars again and in a few minutes disappeared
from sight around a long point of land. Roberta sat down, making the
best picture of disconsolation that she could, but with her face
hidden between her knees, she could indulge herself in a first class
relaxation of her features, and she smiled broadly. Why shouldn’t
she! Arnold would get the plane ready in record time, she would go
over to twin-islands another day, and they would fly away. It was
merely a matter of a short wait and in the meantime she would have a
rather jolly experience living with the Indian woman and her daughter;
furthermore, the seals promised no end of entertainment.

“I am going to have a real good time,” she told herself. “This isn’t
a half bad place, and I wager I am the first white girl to visit it,
which will be something to tell the newspaper reporters when I get
home.” Just then Natell appeared and beckoned with her finger and
Roberta followed to see what was wanted.

Natell lead the way around the opposite end of the island to a huge
flat section. Here she paused and motioned Roberta to remain perfectly
still. For about two minutes she did, then, a little way out, she saw
a pair of dark eyes staring at her, and a moment later, a young seal
hauled himself to the land and started in her direction. He came quite
close, within four feet, then stopped again, but just then some one of
his family called him, and he returned to the water. When he was gone,
Natell crept cautiously forward among the rocks, then, with a movement
like lightning, she reached down and came up again with a tiny seal in
her arms. He whined pitifully, but his curiosity was greater than his
fear, so he gave her a sniff.

“Oh, the cunning little fellow,” Roberta exclaimed. She petted the
baby, but about ten minutes later there was another bark from the water
and the young seal flapped comically in front of her. He was so funny
that she threw back her head and laughed heartily, she couldn’t help
it, but it scared the little fellow and he scrambled away. “Next time I
must be more polite when I have company,” she told herself.


THE END

The story of Roberta’s adventures on Seal Island, is told in The
Mystery Ship, the fourth and last book of The Girl Sky-Pilot Series.




Transcriber’s Note

Spelling and variations in hyphenation have been retained as they appear
in the original publication. Punctuation has been standardised. Changes
have been made as follows:

  Page 35
    evening when Mrs. Langwell reached _changed to_
    evening when Mr. Langwell reached

  Page 87
    Roberta asked mischieviously _changed to_
    Roberta asked mischievously

  Page 90
    I am going to re-resign _changed to_
    I am going to resign

  Page 163
    Walkink slowly toward the edge _changed to_
    Walking slowly toward the edge

  Page 167
    Perhaps it’s still here _changed to_
    perhaps it’s still here

  Page 180
    location and apparent barenness _changed to_
    location and apparent barrenness

  Page 195
    is a very limted one _changed to_
    is a very limited one

  Page 213
    I though Pollzoff was the head _changed to_
    I thought Pollzoff was the head





End of Project Gutenberg's The Mystery of Seal Islands, by Harrison Bardwell