“There’s Not a Moment to Lose!” Lena Exclaimed
“There’s Not a Moment to Lose!” Lena Exclaimed
“There’s Not a Moment to Lose!” Lena Exclaimed
Strange questions and wild emotion came and went over Betty’s active mind as they headed straight for that light and at full speed.
“Has this girl lost her mind?” she asked herself. “Or does she know some terrible secret? Will the plane really come down?” For the moment she found no answer. But the answer must come soon. Even as she thought this Lena exclaimed:
“There! What did I tell you? The plane is beginning to circle. It will come down. It is flying high, but it will come down.”
This Betty knew was true. The sounds that came from the plane told the whole story.
As she watched, frightened, yet fascinated, she tried to measure the time it would take for the plane to come down. Now it must, she thought, be a quarter of the way down, now a half, and now three-quarters of the way. Her heart skipped a beat. What plane was this? Would it really crash? Was it friend or foe? Should she hope for a crash or an upward swing just in time? Her brain was in a whirl.
“The light has vanished!” Lena exclaimed suddenly.
It was true. The light had blinked out.
Still the plane came down, rapidly. There seemed no stopping it now. After breathing a prayer, Betty began to count. One, two, three, four—she had reached twelve when there came the sound of a muffled crash.
“Now, if only we can save them,” she thoughtwith a tightening of her throat. And yet, after all, who were they?
While Lena kept the boat at its utmost speed, Betty stood in the prow and strained her eyes for some sign of the wreck.
At last her vigil was rewarded.
“There’s a tiny light. But perhaps that’s the one that disappeared.”
“It is not that one!” Lena headed straight for it.
The light grew brighter. A dark bulk loomed ahead. Betty heard a voice calling. A woman’s voice. That, she thought, was strange.
They came closer. “Are you hurt?” she called.
“No, we’re not hurt,” a woman’s voice answered.
“But please hurry,” came in a different voice. “The plane may sink.”
“We’ve been hurrying, quite a while,” Betty called.
“How did you know we’d crash?” came back.
“I didn’t. We—we just came,” said Betty.
“That light was a decoy,” came from the plane.
“You thought there was a field here?” Betty suggested.
“We were off our course and our gas was low,” one voice explained. “We came down to see.”
“And I took the plane too far,” the other explained.
“Well, now you’re safe enough,” Betty said a minute later as Lena eased the boat in close to theplane’s wing where the two women sat. At the same time she threw her light upon them. They were, she discovered, surprisingly young and, beyond a shadow of doubt, Americans. At that moment words from a very old book came to her. ‘An enemy hath done this.’
“But what about our plane?” one of the girls on the plane asked. “We are of the Ferry Command. It’s worth a lot of money.”
“And it’s hardly damaged at all,” said the other.
“It’s equipped with sort of water-wings that can be filled with gas in just no time,” said the first one.
“Why don’t you fill them?” Betty asked. “We’ll stand by.”
“We will!” They both sprang up. “We’ll be right back. Right back.”
A moment later there came a hissing sound and the plane began to lift slowly.
“The water is smooth. I’m sure we can save the plane,” said Lena.
“Listen!” Betty said. “There’s a boat coming.”
Before the two girls returned, their arms loaded with personal belongings, two fishing boats pulled alongside. One was quite long, the other small.
“What happened?” Joe Tratt asked.
“They crashed,” Betty explained. No mention of the decoy light. That would come later.
“We’re going to try towing it in,” said Lena.
“I’ll help you,” said Joe. “My boat draws a lotof water. Bill can take you all in. His boat is small.”
So it was agreed. Betty and the two strange girls piled into Bill’s boat. Betty called, “So long and good luck!” Then they were away.
“Lena is the strangest girl I ever knew,” Betty told herself as she settled in her place. She wanted terribly to talk, but if she did, she might say the wrong thing. So she said never a word—not, at least, until she sat across a table from Grandfather Norton in his secret den. Then she really opened up.
They talked for an hour. The old man’s voice was mellow. His words came slowly, thoughtfully, from a well-stored mind. Betty was not a child and still at times she sprang to her feet to exclaim, “Lena knew it was going to happen. She really knew!”
“Perhaps,” was the slow reply. “Then again, perhaps not. Some people are gifted with intuition, particularly women.”
“Yes, I know, but—”
“Even I suggested first that the plane might try to make a landing,” he added. “There was the whole set-up, night, a plane seeking a landing place, and a light that seemed a beacon.
“And at the most, we must admit,” he added thoughtfully, “that this big friend of yours, Lena, might well have been the means of saving lives. It was a mere chance that saved the plane.”
For a time after that there was silence. Then hespoke again.
“It would seem that, after all, we are discussing a minor problem. The real problem is, who put out that decoy light, if it was a decoy, and how did they take it down?”
“Decoy?” Betty exploded. “Of course it was a decoy to lure our airplanes into the sea.”
“Perhaps. Let’s pass that up for the moment and ask ourselves how the light got there. Did you see or hear any surface craft leave the spot?”
Betty shook her head. “Not a sign, nor an airplane either.”
“Then, only a sub could have put up that light. With a long telescoped steel pole, like a giant fishing rod, guyed by wires, they could hang out a very high light.”
“It might have been an electric light on a wire,” Betty suggested. “Then they could have blinked it out on the instant.”
“Certainly. And when the plane came close, that’s what they did. Has it not occurred to you that they might have been afraid of the plane?”
“I think they were afraid of us.”
“With the plane thundering overhead, they could not have heard your motor. I fancy they thought the plane was out to bomb them. More than likely they crash-dived.”
“Then why the light?” Betty was more puzzled than ever.
“That is a big sub. These large subs carry small seaplanes that can be catapulted from their deck. If their plane was out landing spies on our shores or spying out the land itself, they may have had a beacon out to guide it back.”
“That,” Betty laughed, “is good enough for a night cap. I’m going to retire. Goodnight!” She was gone.
When, at dawn, Lena and Joe Tratt arrived at the harbor the big girl appeared ready to drop. And yet, as soon as the plane was safely grounded on the sandy beach, she hired a fisherman to take her ashore.
Once there, she drank three cups of black coffee and then, still teetering on her toes, she climbed the stairs, entered her room, threw off her coat and shoes, and crept under the blankets to fall fast asleep.
Early that afternoon, Norma, who had cut her sleeping hours short, joined Lieutenant Warren in one of those toy-like cars, known as peeps, and went spinning down the shore road.
Their first stop was the cottage occupied by Bess and Beth. School, Norma had learned, was out because of a teacher’s convention so the twins were free to go with them to the spotter shed.
There they were able, with Beth’s help, to hold a long, hand-to-hand conversation with Betty.
It was evident at once from the nervous movements of Betty’s hands before the television camera that the affair of the night before had left her greatly excited.
They discussed the situation very thoroughly.
As they left the spotter shed Lieutenant Warren said, “It looks very much as if we were heading straight into a crisis of one sort or another. Such things as these can’t go on. Big planes don’t always crash-land safely in the sea.”
“They seldom do,” Norma added.
“That black pigeon of Betty’s was taken from the shore by some traitor to our cause, and put aboardsome craft.”
“Probably the sub,” Norma suggested.
“Yes, and in this way every secret of our defense will in time leak out.”
“And any number of spies may land on our shores. Which leads us—
“To Carl Langer, his black pigeons, his rich estate, his masterpiece, and, just perhaps, to the Spanish hairdresser.” Norma found herself rather breathless at the end of this speech.
“You hope for too much,” was the Lieutenant’s quiet comment. “However, we will present Carl Langer with our calling card.”
The photographer was not at his studio but the girl who kept the shop in his absence offered to call him at the big house.
“Tell him that Norma Kent and Lieutenant Warren would like to see his masterpiece,” said Norma.
Word came over the wire at once that the great, little man would be delighted to see them.
“Now,” said Norma, as they drove through the gate, “if his three huge dogs don’t eat us up, peep and all, we’ll get on fine.”
Black pigeons, looking like dwarfed nuns, sat in rows on the barn roof, but no dogs appeared to announce their coming.
For all the world as if he had been watching at the keyhole, the photographer, whose hair seemed whiter and more bristling than ever, threw open thedoor the instant they rang the bell.
“Come in! Come in!” he welcomed.
“Mr. Langer, this is Lieutenant Warren,” said Norma.
For a brief space of time he studied the newcomer’s face intently. But Rita Warren was older than when she was in India. Then, too, she had made her face up rather well for the occasion and was wearing tinted glasses. Add to this fact that a woman’s olive-drab uniform is in itself something of a disguise, and it may not seem strange that at first, at least, he did not recognize her.
“But then,” Norma chided herself, “more than likely he is not the man at all. Spies who are shot seldom show up somewhere else!”
If Lieutenant Warren recognized the man, neither Norma nor Carl Langer could have detected it from her action. She thanked him for his interest and repeated her desire to see his masterpiece.
“You shall see it at once,” he assured them. “After that we will have some tea—tea brought straight from India. You don’t often get that. But first—”
He stepped to a table to press a hidden buzzer that sounded in a distant room.
“Is that for a servant or a couple of murderers?” Norma asked herself with a shudder. To Lieutenant Warren she whispered, “India!”
Lieutenant Warren lifted her eyebrows—that wasall.
“Now if you will come this way,” said their strange host, leading the way.
As they passed down a long corridor, Norma stole a glance or two into other rooms. In one, whose door stood ajar, she saw an open traveling bag, half packed.
“What is that for?” she asked herself.
At the far end of the hall they entered a room where but one light shone. This came from a long slender tube close to the ceiling. This light fell upon a large canvas.
Striking a pose, Carl Langer said, “Well, what do you think?”
For a full sixty seconds he received no answer. They all stood there looking at the picture. One of those simple things that can, if well done, be magnificent, it showed a peasant youth and a maid in her middle teens seated among the stubble of a partly mown field. Beside them were their scythes and rake and a rustic lunch basket. Back of them was a shock of wheat and behind that the waving grain. On their faces were smiles and over their faces played the sunlight.
“It’s lovely,” was Norma’s comment.
“It may be a Millet,” Lieutenant Warren said slowly. “Surely it is like his work, but some of the colors are a little strange. There are overtones—”
“To be sure,” Carl Langer laughed hoarsely.“The picture has been neglected. I found it in an old church in a French-Canadian village. I am restoring it.”
Norma saw Lieutenant Warren start and stare. But she said never a word as they left the room.
As they prepared to take tea in the sunny living-room, a small brown man entered with a tray.
“You need not be afraid of Hanada,” said Langer with a forced laugh. “It is true that he is of Japanese blood, but his home is in India. He has never seen Japan.”
At that the little brown man showed all his teeth in a grin.
“I brought him with me from India,” was the hasty reply.
“So you have lived in India? How grand!” Norma exclaimed.
“Yes, I practiced my art there for several years. Only four years ago, I sold out and came to America.”
“Ah-ha,” Norma breathed.
“Has your successor been successful?” Lieutenant Warren asked in an even tone.
“Oh, yes, indeed. In fact, he has become a permanent resident,” was the odd reply.
“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Lieutenant Warren.
Norma barely suppressed a laugh. So it was the man who followed Carl Langer in India who had been shot as a spy!
All during the tea Carl Langer seemed ill at ease. His eyes often sought the room in which an open traveling bag awaited his return.
“Wonder if he is going on a journey?” Norma thought. The answer was—yes, a long, long journey.
“We’ll have to be going back,” Lieutenant Warren said at last. “Our watch changes very soon, and I must be there.”
Their host expressed polite, but uneasy regrets. They bade him a polite farewell and were away.
As their car started they were greeted by a loud roar as three huge dogs came leaping at their peep. They were, however, quite safe in the car; so, avoiding running over one of the beasts, they glided out of the gate and were away.
“Well?” Norma breathed deeply.
“Believe it or not,” said Lieutenant Warren, “he is my spy of India. I shall get Mr. Sperry on his trail first thing in the morning.”
Shortly after noon of that same day rain squalls came sweeping in upon Black Knob. It whipped the waters into foam and hid the island from all the world.
Riding the crest of this storm, three small craft approached the island from the east. One, boasting a small and ragged sail, towed a second. The third was being rowed by six rugged seamen who swung their long oars as men sometimes seem to do in their sleep.
It was Betty who first discovered them. She had wandered down to the dock when she saw them looming out of the fog.
At first she was frightened, but a second look told her that no invading force would be so poorly equipped so she raced away to the fishing village to tell the news.
At once two fishing boats took off. In due time they came in, with the boats in tow.
By that time everyone on the island was down by the dock.
There were men, women, and children in that boat, seventy-six of them in all, and they were a sorrysight.
“Ours was the Mary Sachs,” one seaman explained. “She were a coastwise steamer bound for Baltimore. We had these ladies an’ children with us as passengers.”
“It were a sub to be sure,” another took up the story. “They torpedoed us without warning.”
“Yes,” a woman broke in shrilly, “and they had an airplane with them. The plane swooped down and machine-gunned our lifeboats. Look at Sally here.” She held up a child whose face was white as a sheet. “Both her legs are broken.”
“We had a doctor with us. Thank God for that,” said another woman. “He fixed her up good as he could.”
Betty swallowed hard as she put out her hands for the child. Then, with sturdy tread she led the battered and half frozen band to the hotel where a great fire of driftwood roared up the chimney.
All that afternoon the WACs and, in truth, every other person on the island, worked with the ship’s doctor making their new-found friends comfortable.
Cots and beds were improvised. Every available blanket or quilt was pressed into service. Great kettles of beef, beans, and soup boiled constantly on the hotel’s range. It was only toward night that Betty felt free to creep away to the log cabin for an hour of rest.
Little Patsy went with her, but did not remain long. Soon she was out wandering among the rocks, keeping an eye out for bad Gremlins.
Just before dark Mr. Sperry, the FBI agent, made a surprise visit to the cabin. Grandfather Norton was there. Betty was wakened by Sperry’s knock on the door, so these three shut themselves in the Norton den.
“I came over here looking for a spy,” Sperry announced.
“A spy!” Grandfather Norton exclaimed. “We are all loyal people out here.”
“You don’t understand,” said Sperry. “He was last seen heading this way in a small motorboat.
“It’s that photographer over at Granite Head,” he explained to Betty. “You may know him.”
“Oh—oh, yes!” Betty was startled. “He did all our work. I never dreamed—well, yes, there were some queer things about him.”
“Queer!” the secret agent exploded. “I’d say so. He’s one of the most dangerous men on foot. We’ve been looking for him. He was a spy in India. Got out just in time to save his neck. He’ll do the same thing here if he can. You haven’t seen a small motorboat?”
“No motorboat,” was Mr. Norton’s reply. “Three lifeboats came ashore shortly after noon. They were in a sorry plight. Their ship had been torpedoed by a sub.”
“Ah! Those subs,” Sperry clenched his fists. “There are rumors of a sub being seen off shore here this very afternoon. Fisherman coming in from the Banks claims he saw it. All our small boats are out scouting for it. But me, I’m after just one man; and his name’s Carl Langer!”
“Well, we haven’t got him,” said the gray-haired inventor. “But if we see him, we’ll hold him for you. Never doubt that.”
“I’ll have a look about the island.” Sperry was up and away.
A half hour later, just as Betty was thinking, “I should be out on the spotter platform right now,” Patsy came crashing through the door. Her face was white, her eyes bulging.
“The sub!” she whispered hoarsely. “It’s so close! I saw it! And there was a small boat, yes, and an airplane. There were men, many big men. I think they have come to carry us away.”
“This,” Betty thought, as she stood up, with shaking knees, “this is not one of Patsy’s dreams about Gremlins. It’s the real thing.”
Thirty seconds later she was racing with Norton and Patsy for the hotel.
“They’re invading the island,” Betty exclaimed as they burst into the lounge room of the hotel. “There’s a sub, a boat, an airplane, and many men.”
“Where? Where? Where?” came in a chorus.
“Where?” Betty turned to Patsy.
“By Bald Head,” was the prompt answer.
“The other end of the island,” Grandfather Norton explained in a steady voice.
Instantly there was a rush for the door. But Grandfather Norton was there before them.
“Steady, boys,” he held up a hand, “you’re not going to a picnic. I don’t know why those men are there, but I do know they are armed. We must organize our party.”
“That’s right, sir!” an Army sergeant agreed. He gave an order to his men. They disappeared.
Next instant the door opened, silently, and in stepped Sperry. His eyes were wide, his tongue fairly hanging out. “I ran into a hornet’s nest,” he whispered. “I got away just in time!”
What he had to say left no room for doubt. A fight was in the making.
When the Army squad returned it was with arms loaded. There were rifles, tommy-guns, pistols, and stacks of ammunition.
Then after one weapon had been selected for each Black Knob man, the sergeant said, “Take your pick.”
Instantly, from every corner, came the men whose boat had been struck.
“We’ll kill the rats,” the burly seaman snarled. His right arm was in a sling, but with his left he gripped an automatic.
“Somebody find me a cane,” one seaman begged.His leg was bandaged and splinted. “I’m the best darn shot in the crew. That’s what I am!” From somewhere a crutch was produced.
One man half rose from his cot, whirled about, then fell on the floor. “No! Not you, Tom!” The doctor’s voice was gentle. “You’re too badly broken up.”
It was a motley and dangerous crew that at last marched silently out into the night.
In the meantime things were happening fast at Harbor Bells.
While preparations were being made for the battle Patsy had slipped back to the cabin. There she wakened Millie and Mary, who were to take the midnight watch. With their help she set up the television camera and began telling the exciting news to Beth and Bess.
As fast as the words were told off by Patsy’s talking hands, Bess phoned them to Norma at the Sea Tower.
Norma got Tom on the phone.
“Tom! Oh! Tom!” she stammered with excitement. “The sub is out by Black Knob, and the plane, too. If you could just go out and spot it, the big guns would blow the sub from the sea!”
“We’ll go!” said Tom. “You and I!”
“Oh, Tom!”
“You’ll have to go!” Tom’s voice insisted.“There’s not a man in the harbor who knows the tricks. They’re all out in boats looking for that sub.”
“All right, Tom. I’ll meet you at the dock.” She hung up.
“Marie!” she commanded. “You keep the switchboard. Rosa, get your coat and come with me.”
One minute more and they were joined by Lieutenant Warren, who somehow had learned the news. Then all three raced for the dock.
Norma was faster than the others. She arrived in sight of the dock just in time to see a ghostly figure emerge from the shadows, leap at Tom, who was just coming to the dock, and deal a heavy blow with some blunt instrument square on his head. Without a sound, Tom dropped like an empty sack.
Norma had seen that white-robed figure before. She had battled with it and won. Not the least afraid, without warning, she landed upon it with a head-on blow that sent it crashing against a wall. It crumpled into a white heap and lay there like a pile of snow.
“Wha—what happened?” Lieutenant Warren panted, as she came racing up.
In a few, well-chosen words, Norma told her. “It’s terrible!” she groaned. “Tom is out for keeps. Per-perhaps he’s dead. We can’t go!”
“Wecango!” Rosa insisted stoutly. “I can pilot the plane as well as Tom could!”
“What do you think?” Norma turned to the Lieutenant.
A Ghostly Figure Leaped at Tom and Dealt a Heavy Blow
A Ghostly Figure Leaped at Tom and Dealt a Heavy Blow
A Ghostly Figure Leaped at Tom and Dealt a Heavy Blow
“I’ll not command you,” was the slow and steady answer. “But if you two wish to volunteer for the task, I shall not stop you.
“I’ll take care of Tom,” she added. “There are fishermen near who will help me.”
One minute more and the two girls were rowing rapidly toward the Seagull that was to fly them into new perils.
On Black Knob the battle lines were forming. Never had a band of Indians, in the days long since gone, moved more swiftly or silently than the island’s defenders. And they were bent on swift vengeance.
Driven on by an irresistible impulse, Betty followed the last man, the one with a crutch.
As she glided through the night, one question was uppermost in her mind. Why were those men with sub, motorboat, and plane there? The sub had come from the sea, the plane from the sub, and the motorboat from the land. One thing was plain. They had chosen this island as a place of meeting. But why? And how—how had they dared?
“They haven’t scouted the island recently,” was her conclusion. “They thought it was occupied only by old men and women. Well, they’ll soon know better. Just one more ridge and we are there!” Her pulse quickened.
Just as they left the grove of pines, the moon came out. A shadowy figure rose above the crest of the ridge. There was something vaguely familiar about that figure. One second it was there, the next it was gone, for rifles had cracked. The fight was on. There came shouts from beyond. They raced up the ridge. Their fire was returned, but feebly. There was the sound of scrambling feet. A motor roared, then another.
It was all over in a minute, and over forever for three huddled figures that would never move again.
“Enemies,” Betty thought. “Perhaps they helped machine-gun women and children.” Yet, in a way, she was sorry.
She flashed her light on the nearest figure. Then she gasped. It was Carl Langer. This time the spy had really been shot.
When the men reached the shore the moon was under a cloud again, the sub had vanished, the motorboat heading out to sea, and the airplane thundering somewhere in the sky.
Or was it the Seagull they heard out there over the black waters? One thing was sure—it was there. At the controls sat Rosa. Norma was casting her light about in search of the sub.
“We’ll find the sub if we can,” she had phoned to the major over at the fort. “When I hold the light on one spot, you’ll know we’ve found it.”
“We’ll be waiting and watching,” had been hisanswer. “Ready to blow them into Kingdom Come!”
And so now they circled slowly back and forth.
Only one question troubled her, and that was, “Is that enemy plane still in the air?”
“If that plane is armed and they attack us?” she said to Rosa.
“We will climb too fast for them,” was the calm reply.
And then Norma’s light fell upon something, a white spot. Not the sub. She was disappointed. Then her heart leaped. Off to the right was a long, dark bulk.
“The sub,” she said aloud. “And that’s the motorboat. They are coming together.”
With all the skill she possessed she held her wide spot of light on the sub. Slowly, surely, the sub and the motorboat moved closer together. Breathlessly she awaited the roar from the shore.
“The major can’t fail us,” she clenched her teeth. “He must not!”
They were losing altitude and coming closer to the sub. Suddenly they were surrounded by balls of smoke and flame.
“Pom-poms!” she screamed to Rosa. “The sub is firing at us!”
The plane gave a sudden lift and shuddered.
“We are hit.” But still they glided on.
Then came the distant roar.
“Thank God!” Norma screamed. “Climb, Rosa! Climb!” But they did not climb. They could not. The Seagull had been hit.
The first shot from the fort was quickly followed by another. Both shells burst almost beneath them, giving them a lift they would not soon forget. The shells, Norma saw, must have found their mark for, when she played her light on the water she found only tiny bits of something. The sub and motorboat had vanished.
“Quick, Rosa!” she cried. “Head for the shore.”
“We will go to shore,” was the slow reply. “Perhaps we shall go, but not quick. The Seagull, she is hit. She may die.”
Norma came to realize this more and more as the gallant plane sank slowly toward the sea.
They were in close to land when, with a suddenness that was startling, the seaplane’s motor stopped and then they plunged into the sea.
Norma hit the water hard. She sank. She rose. She sank again and then, as she rose, she began to swim.
“I’m not hurt,” she told herself. “The water is terribly cold, but I can keep up for a time.”
Her time was about up. Her body was numb with cold, her breath was coming in gasps when she became conscious of someone near her.
Then a voice said, “Put your hand on my shoulder. I’ll take you in.”
“Rosa?” she panted. “I can’t do that, you’lldrown!”
“Not Rosa,” said the voice. “I am Lena. Believe me, I am fresh and strong. Put your hand on my shoulder.”
“Lena!” she thought. “Why is she here? She is always where danger is.”
At that she surrendered herself to the other’s superb strength.
They had gone so for some time, when a skiff pulled in close to them. One man held a lantern. Another put out two hands to pull her in. It was the major from the fort.
Several hours later she awoke from a long sleep to find Lieutenant Warren sitting by her side.
“Everything is all right,” the Lieutenant smiled. “More than all right. You got the sub and the motorboat, everyone on it. The sub was bringing spies to America. In their haste they left their traveling bags on the island. They were packed with American clothes, faked passports, everything. Then they had plans, maps, all they needed for destroying factories and shipyards.
“I think,” she added, “that they meant to take Carl Langer back with them on the sub.”
“But they didn’t,” Norma whispered.
“Lena has confessed,” Lieutenant Warren added.
“Con-confessed? Lena?” Norma’s heart sank.
“She was part of the spy ring, a very small part, and against her will. Her uncle drove her to it byterrible threats. She is a loyal American at heart. She has turned state’s witness. That will trap the real culprits and she, I think, will go free.”
“I’m glad,” Norma murmured. “And Rosa?” she asked after a moment’s reflection.
“Oh! Rosa? She’s a dear. Loyal all the way through.”
“I know. But she was in the plane with me!”
“Oh—yes, of course! She wasn’t thrown from the plane.
“We found her paddling about on a rubber raft, still searching for you.”
“Good old Rosa,” Norma murmured. “So I was partly right and partly wrong about all this spy business?”
“Yes. It is often like that.”
“How’s Tom?” Norma sat up suddenly.
“Tom’s all right,” was the reply. “He came round almost at once. And was he mad when he knew you were gone!”
“Then he wasn’t really injured?”
“She couldn’t hit him very hard.”
“She?”
“Yes, the Spanish hairdresser. You guessed right there again. She turned out to be a professional spy, the lowest creature on earth. Sperry knew her the moment his eyes fell on her. She’s through spying for good and all.”
“Someone took my camera twice,” said Norma.“Perhaps she did that.”
“No. I’m sorry to tell you, but that was Lena. The pictures she took, however, were of no consequence.”
“And the enemy plane from the sub?” Norma suggested as she settled back on her pillow.
“It was shot from the air by one of our fighter planes.”
“Looks as if we have been in on something really big and carried it off,” Norma murmured sleepily.
“There will be promotions all round,” was the happy reply. “Very soon you will be wearing bars on your shoulders.”
“Oh! And Major Fairchild is to pin them on,” Norma exclaimed. “That will be one big day!”
“They’re sending WACs to Africa now,” Rita Warren said after a time.
“Shall we be sent there?”
“I don’t know. Would you like to go?”
“I’m too tired to think about it.” At that Norma turned over and was soon fast asleep.
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for Girls
POLLY OF PEBBLY PITPOLLY AND ELEANORPOLLY’S BUSINESS VENTUREPOLLY IN NEW YORKTHE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON A HIKETHE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON A CANOE TRIPTHE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT CEDAR RIDGETHE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN THE AIRJOY AND GYPSY JOEJOY AND PAMJOY AND HER CHUMJOY AND PAM AT BROOKSIDEJUDY JORDAN’S DISCOVERYROSE’S GREAT PROBLEMHELEN’S STRANGE BOARDER
POLLY OF PEBBLY PITPOLLY AND ELEANORPOLLY’S BUSINESS VENTUREPOLLY IN NEW YORKTHE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON A HIKETHE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON A CANOE TRIPTHE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT CEDAR RIDGETHE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN THE AIRJOY AND GYPSY JOEJOY AND PAMJOY AND HER CHUMJOY AND PAM AT BROOKSIDEJUDY JORDAN’S DISCOVERYROSE’S GREAT PROBLEMHELEN’S STRANGE BOARDER
POLLY OF PEBBLY PITPOLLY AND ELEANORPOLLY’S BUSINESS VENTUREPOLLY IN NEW YORKTHE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON A HIKETHE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON A CANOE TRIPTHE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT CEDAR RIDGETHE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN THE AIRJOY AND GYPSY JOEJOY AND PAMJOY AND HER CHUMJOY AND PAM AT BROOKSIDEJUDY JORDAN’S DISCOVERYROSE’S GREAT PROBLEMHELEN’S STRANGE BOARDER
POLLY OF PEBBLY PIT
POLLY AND ELEANOR
POLLY’S BUSINESS VENTURE
POLLY IN NEW YORK
THE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON A HIKE
THE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON A CANOE TRIP
THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT CEDAR RIDGE
THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN THE AIR
JOY AND GYPSY JOE
JOY AND PAM
JOY AND HER CHUM
JOY AND PAM AT BROOKSIDE
JUDY JORDAN’S DISCOVERY
ROSE’S GREAT PROBLEM
HELEN’S STRANGE BOARDER
Also TheseFAMOUS CLASSICS
Also TheseFAMOUS CLASSICS
Also These
FAMOUS CLASSICS
Heidi;Little Women;Black Beauty;Eight Cousins;Dickens’ Christmas Stories;Andersen’s Fairy Tales;Grimm’s Fairy Tales;Bible Stories.
Heidi;Little Women;Black Beauty;Eight Cousins;Dickens’ Christmas Stories;Andersen’s Fairy Tales;Grimm’s Fairy Tales;Bible Stories.
Heidi;Little Women;Black Beauty;Eight Cousins;Dickens’ Christmas Stories;Andersen’s Fairy Tales;Grimm’s Fairy Tales;Bible Stories.
Heidi;
Little Women;
Black Beauty;
Eight Cousins;
Dickens’ Christmas Stories;
Andersen’s Fairy Tales;
Grimm’s Fairy Tales;
Bible Stories.
These books may be purchased at thesame store where you obtained this book.
These books may be purchased at thesame store where you obtained this book.
These books may be purchased at the
same store where you obtained this book.
WHITMAN PUBLISHING CO.RACINE, WISCONSIN
WHITMAN PUBLISHING CO.RACINE, WISCONSIN
WHITMAN PUBLISHING CO.
RACINE, WISCONSIN
For Victory—SAVE COOKING FATS AND GREASE!Grease makes bullets and shells and bombsfor our soldiers. You can help them win!
For Victory—SAVE COOKING FATS AND GREASE!Grease makes bullets and shells and bombsfor our soldiers. You can help them win!
For Victory—
SAVE COOKING FATS AND GREASE!
Grease makes bullets and shells and bombs
for our soldiers. You can help them win!