As a preliminary to his plans for catching this dangerous meddler red-handed if he ever returned to meddle again, Fred first asked Big Jack to return to their hut and bring up to the hangar a box of heavy and powerful auxiliary batteries which had come to them by express, to be carried along on their flight for use in any emergency in which the electrical equipment of their plane, either with respect to engine or radio service, might go wrong.
While Jack was on this errand, Fred set Donald to work digging a hole beneath the plane large enough to contain this battery box when it should arrive.
With the aid of Andy he began the secret wiring of the plane in such a way that the wires could be charged without danger of damage to any of the vital parts of the plane—and it may be said here that practically every part of an aeroplane not only is essentially vital, but vitally essential.
When Jack returned, rather breathless from lugging a load that a weaker man could not have managed, they carefully wrapped the battery box in an oilcloth tarpaulin, to prevent any damage to it from the dampness of the ground, then buried it with only the wires protruding, and with still a layer of two inches of dirt to be put on after a single small cable of many insulated strands had been attached.
Fred then took a length of heavy ordinary hemp rope, a little longer than sufficient to reach from one of the bracing wires to the ground. From this bracing wire he directly and indirectly connected up every metallic part of the aeroplane, except the engine.
He then heated a small straight iron rod almost white hot, and, with a bucket of water close at hand, forced the hot rod through the center of the strand of rope, immediately dropping the latter into the bucket to prevent it from burning through.
By this time his scheme was becoming apparent. He ran the cable of wire through the rope, attached one end to the batteries, then completed their concealment and finally hung the strand of rope over the fusilage of the plane as though it had been carelesslytossed there, but with a complete connection established.
No one, without picking the rope up for careful examination, could possibly have detected or even suspected its purpose. It just looked as though it had been left there for no particular purpose whatever.
Fred then went to the engine, did a few secret tricks that he knew of there, and then turned on the battery switch of the plane.
"Now," he said, "I think the trap's all set for our friend, the enemy. Let us hope he walks into it."
He gathered up all the tools and implements with which he had been working, carefully replaced them where they belonged, with his own hands again smoothed off the ground where the auxiliary battery box had been buried, and then, with a final survey of his surroundings and a gentle pat or two to the rope, pronounced their work completed.
"Let's go eat," said Big Jack. They started for the hangar, but had gotten but a few feet away when he halted.
"What's up now?" Don demanded.
"Forgot my pipe; be with you in a second," Big Jack answered, and returned to the hangar.
An instant later there was a loud and sudden masculine howl.
The others jumped in consternation, but Fred merely grinned. "Forgot it was loaded, I suppose," he said, as they retraced their steps.
"Holy Christmas," gasped the big pilot as they entered. He was tenderly rubbing his right arm and hand. "I got it first," he grinned. "Fool-like, laid my hand right on one of the wires in reaching for my pipe. I'll say you've connected up the juice, all right. Enough there to run a trolley car."
Fred, however, was not listening. He was at the doorway, looking in all directions. "I guess you didn't give it away," he said, "but you sure yelled like a stuck Dutchman."
"Try a little of your own medicine, maybe you'll yell, too," Jack retorted.
"Didn't rig it up for that purpose, thank you," said Fred, a little sarcastically. "But let me suggest that if you're really after a little electrical treatment, put your hand somewhere on the engine. That will tickle you to your toes."
"Toes don't need tickling," Big Jack responded. "I've got my pipe; let's get out."
They were on their way to the express office when two newspaper correspondents stopped them to get their views as to who had started the preceding night's fire.
"Bully story as it is," said the one who represented a large New York daily, "but a hundred times better if the guilty party should be found."
"Yes," said the other, attached to a Boston paper, "and we'd like to get your own dope on the subject."
"Guess you know about as much as we do," Jack said easily, with a guarded glance of warning at his companions. He knew that to reveal the discovery of the deliberately damaged wire, coming directly after the incendiary fire, would be a sensational story in the hands of any first-class reporter; but he had no mind to warn the enemy of how far his activities were known.
"Hear there's to be a regular all-night watch from now on," suggested the New York man.
"Yes," Jack answered. "Just as a sort of precaution, you know. It wouldn't be fair to ourselves and what we represent in this contest—and I'm speaking of each crew now, and not merely this one—to permit anything to happen that might be prevented."
"Then you do expect something more to happen?" the Bostonian persisted, the instinct of his profession catching somethingin Jack's way of phrasing his last remark that instantly sharpened his news sense.
"Well—" Jack began, but Fred interrupted, with a sly wink at Andy and Don.
"We'll put it this way," he said, "if one thing happens probably two will. No," he hastened, as he saw the men getting ready to question him further, "no further explanations. And don't take what I said too seriously, either."
They passed on, leaving the two newspaper men to speculate as to what Fred could have meant, if anything.
"Publicity won't hurt," said Fred, laconically. "And we didn't tell them anything."
At the express office there was a note for Jack. It was from the telegraph office, asking that he call there for a telegram.
Needless to say, they lost no time in going to the latter place.
"Wire here for me?" Jack asked. "Name's Carew."
"Yes, sir; much obliged to you for stopping in for it," the telegraph operator answered, at the same time shooting a queer look at the group as he passed over the long yellow envelope.
Jack tore it open, unfolded and glanced atthe yellow sheet within, then gave a short laugh.
"It's from the weather man at Washington," he said to the operator, "and he says we'll probably have a snowy Christmas."
"Humph!" was the only expression of the knight of the key as the four filed out of his office. "Smart Aleck!" he muttered, when the door had closed behind them and they were well out of hearing.
It was, in fact, a code telegram from the Henckel-Bradley Company, makers of the plane in which the lads were about to attempt the overseas flight.
"Guess we'd better go over to the quietude of the hut to try and dope this out," Jack suggested, and they headed immediately in that direction.
There, to facilitate matters, the work was divided between three of them. Jack, word by word, read off the almost nonsensical conglomeration of unconnected nouns and verbs, while Don, with the code key book, looked up their meanings, which he called out in low tone to Fred, who was seated at the rough table in the center of the room.
"Bannister knock hounding snowstorm Christmas joy hat euchre brains," Jack readoff the entire code telegram. "Well, I'll admit that's one to stagger the wisest operator, although on its face it seems to indicate both snow and joy next Christmas. However, let's see what it actually means. Are you ready, Don?"
"Shoot," said the other laconically, thumbing the code book impatiently.
"Bannister," Jack called off.
Don turned several pages, ran a finger down one column, came to a halt. "This looks interesting," he exclaimed. "Bannister: Take every precaution."
"Right," announced Fred, writing down the words.
"Knock," Jack read off again.
The process was repeated, and: "Knock: against," Don gave the interpretation.
"Hounding."
Don found it, and read off, while Fred wrote: "Attempt to."
"We're progressing," Jack encouraged. "And now we come to the snowstorm."
"Snowstorm?" Don repeated. "Let's see. Yes, here it is: damage plane."
"Holy smoke!" exclaimed Fred, reading the telegram as thus far translated. "'Take every precaution against attempt to damage plane.'"
"Yes, but we're not through yet," said Jack. "Don, tell us what Christmas means."
"Why, the season of good cheer, when you spend all your money on presents for others," Andy quickly interrupted.
"Here," Jack warned, "you're just an outsider in this. Let's hear what 'Christmas' stands for."
"Braizewell," Don announced from the book. "By George, the maker of Henryson's machine."
"Right you are," the others agreed.
"Joy," Jack next called out.
"May," Don almost instantly replied.
"Hat," Jack went on.
"Hat! Hat!" murmured Don, skimming through the pages, "Where the deuce is my hat? Ah, here she be. Hat: employ."
"Braizewell may employ," Fred read from the balance of the completed code message.
"Euchre, what's euchre?" insisted Big Jack.
"Euchre seems to be 'desperate,'" Don responded.
"And now the last," from Jack. "Brains."
"Cinch," Andy interrupted again. "What you haven't got."
"Methods," Don gave the translation, ignoring the interruption.
"Well, this is interesting anyway," said Fred, with the now completed message before him. "Here's the whole of it: 'Take every precaution against attempt to damage plane. Braizewell may employ desperate methods.'"
"Phew!" Don ejaculated. "It seems to me that Braizewell, through that scoundrel of a pilot of his, already has attempted to employ desperate methods. This holds out a mighty pleasant prospect for our peace of mind so long as we're held here, I'm thinking."
"Guess old Cap. Allerson ain't a whale of a sleuth, eh?" put in Jack.
"Looks as though he had doped Henryson out all right," Fred agreed.
"Yes, I wish when I was doing the job of sticking him into the mud I'd shoved him clear through to China," added Andy, apparently the least concerned of the four, and actually smiling in spite of the gravity of the situation that confronted them, as he recalled the ridiculous picture of the scheming pilot, Henryson, planted head-first in the mire, his feet waving frantically in the air.
"Say," he added, a sudden thought hitting him. "That fellow ought to be stuck up that way for life, with a sign hanging on him, 'Don't approach; I'm contaminated.'"
"I'm not afraid to predict that before long he'll be stuck up before the whole world as a cowardly trickster," said Jack. "He's bound to be caught at his dirty game sooner or later. He can't get away with it forever. Why, right now half the fellows suspect that he had some sort of a hand in that fire."
"Well, for the sake of our friend Captain Allerson, if the fellow is trapped I hope it's the whaling cap.—the town constabule—who lands him."
Of a sudden it seemed that the whole comparative quietude of Halifax was stirred by a series of shrieks and howls, not by one person, but in a ripping, blood-stirring, inharmonious duet.
"What in the name of sense is that!" exclaimed Jack, hurrying to the door of the hut and throwing it wide open.
"Leggo! For the love of Mike, leggo!" a strident appeal came to their ears.
"Saints of the seven seas, leggo yerself, ye fool; I'm hitched an' cain't," came a heavier but no less pained and angered tone in answer.
"Ow! Oh, Ow!!" the weaker voice continued to cry.
"Crabs of the Caribbean," the gruffer oneadded. "What in the name of Neptune did ye do to this thing. It ain't no flying contraption; it's alive."
There was no longer the slightest doubt about it. The cries of distress came from their hangar, and unquestionably from the town constabule, Captain Allerson, and the fire-brand pilot, Henryson.
The lads had no snowshoes to impede their progress this time, and the race to the hangar was a real contest, given zest by the anticipation of the ludicrous spectacle that was to greet them there. Slim-limbed Don won out, but he had hardly poked his head in the partially opened door when the other three were on the scene.
For a moment all four of the young men went into veritable convulsions of laughter. They roared out in gales of merriment which they could not suppress. For the time they forgot either to pity poor Captain Allerson, "town constabule," or to resent the evident malicious interference of Henryson, which evidently had brought both men into their present predicament.
Here was the despised Henryson, apparently clutching for dear life at one of the heavier braces of the plane, although in reality the trap had worked and he was caught there, unable to separate himself from the stiffcurrent which the lads had connected up; while Captain Allerson seemed to be in an even worse plight, his present attachment being to the engine, through which an even heavier current of electricity was flowing.
"What in Heck ye laffin' at, anyway?" the captain finally managed to bawl out, at the same time tossing his head quickly to throw off the streams of perspiration which were coursing down his wrinkled brow.
"Oh, ho! Oh, my golly," gurgled Andy, half doubled up with laughter.
"Grab it! Capshure it! Step on it! Do somethin'. Kill it!" the old whaler yelled in strident panic.
Henryson, however, who knew exactly how he had been caught—knew not only that, but that his previous schemes must have come to light, else the trap would not have been set for him—kept a pained silence, his face aflame with anger and shame.
At length Big Jack managed to put on a stem judicial appearance, although only with the greatest difficulty. He viewed the pair severely for a moment, and then, grave of visage and in the most biting tones he could control, he pretended not to understand the situation at all, and demanded an explanation.
"What does this mean, anyway?" he stormed. "I find you two in our hangar, apparently about to carry off our plane, according to your positions, and all the time yelling 'Leggo!' and 'kill it!' and a lot of other nonsense like that. 'Leggo' what? And who do you want killed?"
"Oh, don't try to be funny," Henryson, snarled. "Guess you know all 'about it inasmuch as you arranged it. Turn off the juice."
"The juice?" echoed Captain Allerson, still squirming in the clutches of a power he could neither see nor understand.
"If I were you I wouldn't criticize anybody, or even make suggestions," Andy Flures blurted out, in real anger, and advancing on Henryson threateningly. "You're in a pretty tough hole, and you ought to know it."
Henryson drew back suddenly as though he had been struck. For the instant he even seemed to forget the direct cause of his present predicament.
"I'll turn off the juice, all right," Big Jack announced. "But after I do we'll have a little conversation. We'd like to know some of the facts relating to this rather—er—unusual situation."
"Turn 'er off first, an' we'll conversation afterward," Captain Allerson blurted out sharply. "I've had enough o' this stuff to last a life time."
Fred severed the connection to the buried battery, and Don swung off the engine switch. The two men nearly dropped over with their sudden release, but the ex-whaling captain hadn't finished rubbing his injured hands together before he turned almost murderously upon the not completely dejected Henryson.
"Now, you," the officer of Canadian law thundered. "Yer under arrest. I dunno jest yet what the charge is, but if it's anything like what I got from this thing here it'll hold ye fer life. I'm warnin' ye not to try to get away."
"Let's get at the facts," Big Jack suggested, pointedly.
"We'll do that, and mighty quick," Captain Allerson answered, forceful if not grammatical.
The four men gathered around, and in such a way that they were between Henryson and the door, so that he could not possibly make his escape.
"It was this here way," the police force began ponderously, all the time gloweringat the discovered trickster, who refused to meet the gaze of any of the others. "I didn't know how much you suspected concernin' this mean meddler, but I had 'im marked from the very beginning as the original messenger of misery. Consequent thereto, I nachurally had an eye peeled fer him ever since that little fracas with the snowshoes when he showed up his sweet disposition.
"I ain't 'zactly pinned that fire to him yet, but I guess this is what them lawyer fellers calls circumstantial evidence of a convictin' nature.
"I sees him headin' this way a while ago, an' all the time actin' zif he didn't want to invite the general public to whatever festivities it was he was about to attend. So I thought I'd just nachurally trail along, sufficient in the rear an' out of sight so he wouldn't know what an interestin' cuss he'd become. I didn't want to arouse his suspicions, ner flatter his vanity neither.
"Well, just as I expected, he took a roundabout way, but his general direction was toward this place, and finally he reached it. Once he was inside, I wasn't long gettin' here either. I peeked in, and sure 'nough, there he was a-monkeyin' around, with no good in his twisted mind, I'll bet.
"I tiptoed in just as he was about to do somethin' to one o' them there wires. I sneaked around the side o' the plane, and was jest about to ast him sudden like what he was doin' in this here hangar, when I put my hand on somethin' thet seemed to run hot and cold both at the same time, an' be full o' needles, too; and I give a surprised little remark which causes him to jump, and touch his tender hand to thet wire, which seemed to be loaded the same way.
"The resultin' general conversation directed toward effectin' our release, I believe you heard."
"Just as I thought," said Big Jack, turning furiously toward Henryson. "Now, you pup, what were you doing here?"
"Why," Henryson stammered confusedly, in a quavering voice, "I just dropped in to see whether any of you fellows were here. I wanted to find out how you had outrigged your machine against extraordinary winds."
"Yeh, wanted to loosen it up a little, so that the first wind would cause the whole plane to collapse, eh?" demanded Andy, advancing again upon the culprit.
"What do you mean?" Henryson could hardly more than whisper.
"You know well enough what's meant," Fred interjected, while Don, his mind's eye picturing the tragedy which might and probably would have overtaken them if the treachery had not been discovered in time, stood silently by, merely clenching and unclenching his hands as an unconscious way of working off some of his pent-up anger and disgust at such inhuman and underhand work.
But before Henryson or anyone else could say anything further, Big Jack had grabbed that misguided young man by the scruff of the neck, and, with no one, not even Captain Allerson, attempting to interfere, thrust him toward that part of the plane where the cut strands of the wire had been discovered.
"I suppose you don't know anything about that little job, eh?" Jack demanded, shaking Henryson as a terrier might shake a rat.
"What do you—Why, I—I—I—"
"Oh, shut up, you cowardly idiot," interrupted Captain Allerson. "If you can't say one honest word, don't say anything at all. You're convicted already, and I guess it means a nice term of solitude fer you, too."
"Now look here," Andy broke in. "This bird's as guilty as Satan, and he knows it, and he knows we know it. However, I'm ofno mind to let one crook like him besmirch a science, a sport and a profession which decent men have kept decent and clean and far above that sort of thing.
"Captain, if you'll agree, I'll tell you what we'll do. If this fellow will get out of Halifax and clear out of Canada immediately after he has fought me, we'll let it go at that, and it'll save you spoilin' your hands on him. Will you do it?"
Captain Allerson was not the only one who turned in surprise on Andy. But nobody said anything, and finally Captain Allerson said: "Well, if I can be a witness to the scrap, and afterward see that he leaves on the first train, I'll agree. I'll admit it ain't just the thing to do under the circumstances, but then it would be a shame to let the government spend its money in prosecuting such a skunk. Are you game fer that there proposal, which is a dern sight easier than you deserve, although I suspect yer going to get the deservin' lickin' of yer life?" he demanded, turning on Henryson.
"Oh, I guess the five of you could frame me up, all right," Henryson answered sullenly, seeking some way to agree to this comparatively easy way of escape without seeming to entirely admit his guilt.
"It ain't no frame-up," snapped Constabule Allerson sharply. "You can take yer choice, providin' you do it within the next sixty seconds. You can employ a lawyer and fight the charges, if you prefer to take yer chances there."
"Oh, I'm not afraid to fight," Henryson retorted, seeing the way opening for him to take that alternative. "I'll tell you what I'll do. Without disputing any of the points further I'll accept this challenge, with the idea that if I win I stay and there's nothing more said. If I'm licked I'll leave."
"Well, you brazen pup!" ejaculated Captain Allerson.
"Agreeable to me," Andy retorted, "for it amounts to the same thing after all. You're going to be licked, and licked so you won't forget it for some years to come; and then you're going to sneak out of here as rapidly and as quietly as you can. You can make your own explanations to the other crews if you want to. We won't discuss the matter after you're gone."
"Well, where's this here struggle to take place?" demanded the former whaling captain, much more favorably disposed to this method of solving the difficulty than bymerely placing the meddling pilot under arrest.
"Why not here?" asked Don. "We'll roll the machine out, then close the door and start proceedings."
"Guess that's best, providing no one else finds out what's going on," Captain Allerson agreed. "But I'm going to be referee of this match, and there ain't going to be any funny work, either." He shot another vicious look at Henryson.
While Big Jack remained within to see that the captured pilot did not escape the consequences of his misdeeds, the other three young men rolled the machine out, left it standing in front of the hangar, as several other machines were then before other hangars at some distance away, and then returned, locking the door behind them.
"Inasmuch as this is to be a fight, and not a boxing exhibition," said Andy, "I'd suggest that there be no rounds, and that the only rules to be the rules of fair play—not to hit below the belt."
"That's settled as soon as sed," declared Captain Allerson with finality.
Both combatants stripped off their collars, neckties and shirts, and in two minutes stoodbefore each other, ready for the fray. Big Jack surveyed them appraisingly. So did all the others. No doubt about it, both were magnificent specimens of masculine physique. Andy was the shorter by perhaps an inch and a half, and to the same extent had the disadvantage in reach; but as offsetting that he had a greater depth of chest and breadth of shoulder, was undoubtedly the stronger and therefore the harder hitter, and in addition was as quick as a tiger on his feet.
Above all, Jack concluded as he compared them, Andy had the great additional psychological advantage of being in the right, while Henryson, no matter how callous his conscience might be, could not evade the knowledge that he was so entirely in the wrong as to be mighty close to being within the criminal class.
"Odds on Andy," Big Jack murmured to himself as the men squared off before each other, Captain Allerson just outside of the large ring which he had marked off with the toe of his heavy boot.
"Are you ready?" Captain Allerson demanded, suppressing his own excitement with some difficulty.
The men nodded, but neither uttered a sound, so intent was each in measuring and watching the other.
"Then go to it," Captain Allerson announced, and involuntarily stepped back a couple of paces as the two men began sparring around for an opening. In another instant it became apparent that this was to be no child's play. It was the cruelest sort of a fight that can be had—with bare knuckles.
Biff! Henryson landed the first blow, but only a glancing one, across Andy's shoulder. It seemed to have needed that and only that to touch off the spark of fury in the usually good-natured Andy Flures.
Like a whirlwind he came at his antagonist, his arms working like irresistible pistons, and so rapidly that even the onlookers could hardly count the blows. They landed on Henryson's face, head, body and stomach. But he was no weakling, nor was Andy endowed with the stamina to keep up such a ferocious attack indefinitely. If nothing else, neither he nor any other man had the lung power to keep up the breath necessary for such an onslaught.
Like a Whirlwind he came at his Antagonist
Like a Whirlwind he came at his Antagonist.
Realizing that he might be wearing himself down too early in the struggle, Andy slowed up. Henryson, mistaking this for a weakening, and being somewhat fresher, though badly battered, by having been entirely on thedefensive, tried to rush. Andy deftly stepped aside, and Henryson staggered to the opposite side of the ring before he regained his balance.
As he did so Andy came at him again. The brief respite seemed to have given him renewed strength and determination. He landed a blow on Henryson's chest with his left, and almost at the same instant broke down the latter's defense and landed on his nose with his right.
The jolt of the two terrific impacts, and the spurt of blood which followed the second, sent Henryson into a blind and impotent rage. He attempted Andy's rushing tactics and came to an abrupt halt on a right hand jab that sent him reeling out of the ring.
"Get back there and fight, you yellow pup," growled Captain Allerson, at the same time giving the badly battered Henryson a vicious shove.
Andy, however, did what his adversary never in the world would have done. Instead of putting him out of his misery then and there, he waited, with hands down, until Henryson had again put up his fists in defense. They came together with another rush and whirled about the hangar like two savages in a wild dervish.
"Break that clinch," ordered the erstwhile sailor of the northern seas, bringing to bear the little knowledge he had gained from newspaper sporting pages, and at the same time rushing in to perform the duties of referee.
Whether purposely or by accident, Henryson at just that instant reached forward with a quick short jolt. It caught Captain Allerson a clout under the chin.
"Holy mackerel!" exclaimed the amateur referee, jumping back in pained surprise.
But the men separated, and the fight was on again with such earnestness and bitterness that no one, not even Captain Allerson himself, paid further attention to this accident.
Henryson landed a stiff jolt to Andy's short ribs which elicited a deep grunt. His adversary again made a fatal mistake. He interpreted it as the first signs of a weakening. He didn't know Andy.
That young man simply came back like lightning. Both men were breathing heavily by now, and Henryson was almost covered with blood, while he had been unable to inflict a single cut or serious bruise on his wary opponent, who seemed to be in half a dozen parts of the ring almost simultaneously.
"Get at 'im," Don muttered, hardly awarethat he had given expression to his thoughts or feelings. But Andy heard, and it seemed as if it had required only this urge, this expression of confidence from his friend, to put him into what was to be the grand finale of the fight.
He swung viciously with his left and caught the unprepared Henryson with terrific force just above the heart. Before Henryson could even recover his balance, Andy let go with his right. It landed with the power of a motor truck behind it. It caught Henryson on that fatal spot, the point of the jaw, and lifted him clear of the ground. He staggered for an instant and then dropped in an unconscious, and for the moment a seemingly lifeless, heap. Andy looked at him for only a second, and then dropped his clenched hands. He, as well as the others, knew that the blow had been struck which had ended the fight. Henryson wasout.
Captain Allerson glanced at the defeated pilot, and then walked over to Andy.
"Young man," he said. "I'm not supposed to watch fights without interferin'. I want to congratulate you upon makin' a most excellent job of this one."
Henryson stirred and muttered somethingincoherent. He was still only half conscious. Don stepped outside the hangar for a moment and returned with a basin of water.
"For him to wash up with, so he won't be delayed in getting out of town," he said laconically, to no one in particular.
"Oh, I'll escort him, all right. And I'll examine his ticket and have a word with the conductor, too, before he starts," Captain Allerson promised.
Henryson moved again, and this time opened his eyes.
"Get up, wash your face and put your clothes on," the minion of the law ordered brusquely. "You couldn't win your chance to stay here, even when you were given an opportunity to fight for it. Come on; hustle. We don't want you contaminatin' the atmosphere around here any longer."
Slowly Henryson seemed to regather his wits and to realize what had happened to him. He glanced at his person and involuntarily shuddered as he saw that he was literally covered with blood. One eye was nearly closed, and his nose was swollen to nearly twice its normal size.
He arose stiffly, but without a word.
"There's only one thing I want to say toyou before you go," said Big Jack, standing squarely in front of him. "You got your licking here today; you got it fair and square; you're getting off mighty easy at that. If I ever hear of your being in aviation again, or if I ever catch you around a hangar or an aviation field, I'll instantly have you arrested and reveal all the facts of what has happened here in the last few days. Do I make that clear?"
Henryson nodded sullenly, but his features had been so distorted that none of the men could tell whether he was sneering or not.
At last clothed, and his general appearance made as presentable as possible, Henryson briefly signified that there was nothing to keep him there longer.
"We've just time to catch a train that don't make a stop until it gets a long way from here," Captain Allerson announced. "Come on, stir yourself. And if you try to get away I'll shoot you. As a matter o' fact, I wouldn't be disappointed at havin' the chance."
The odd pair strode out of the hangar and toward the railroad station. The four youths, watching them, saw several members of other crews at different points along theroute hesitate, regard the two curiously, seem on the verge of saying something, and then hold their silence as the two passed hurriedly on.
"Well, that being over with, I think I'll go get some arnica for my wrists and knuckles," Andy announced. "I haven't had such violent exercise since I came up with a fresh Fritz in the Argonne."
"Want me to go for you?" asked Fred. "I'd be glad to. Somebody might ask you a lot of questions, you know."
"All right," Andy agreed. "Thanks."
"And we'll replace this brace wire and test out the others while you're gone," Jack supplemented. Then, turning to Andy, "You'd better sit around and rest for awhile It was pretty strenuous."
Fred departed, and the other two set themselves to the task of going over the entire plane. The drug store was a considerable distance away, and they had about completed their work when Fred hove into sight on a dogtrot. They saw him half shout something to a couple of other men as he passed, and they noted too that in so doing he seemed to refer to a folded newspaper which he gripped tightly in one hand.
He was almost breathless when he arrived. But he managed to blurt out enough to make Big Jack hastily grab the paper.
"Great Scott!" he exclaimed as the big headlines caught his eye. He read them aloud.
No need to recite them in detail here. They were pointedly to the effect that the Peace Conference had struck a serious snag; that Japan was suspicious; her envoys obdurate; that a virtual ultimatum had been pronounced, and in such a way as to threaten a new war worse even than that which had just ended.
"Well, what do you think of that?" Don ejaculated, more to himself than anyone else.
"Looks as though it might stop the flight, even if it doesn't develop into anything worse," said Andy, who immediately had forgotten his painful knuckles.
Big Jack was still reading the balance of the story, which was under a London date line. There was no question but that a very serious situation existed. Within an hour all Halifax was so agog with it that no one seemed to miss Henryson, or to mention it if he did.
Even Captain Allerson gave way to new sensations as he measured the possibilities ofa new war, and he merely reported briefly that Henryson had been "deported," and with instructions to the conductor not to let him off the train within the next two hundred miles.
That night half a dozen other would-be Transatlantic contestants dropped into the hut which had come to be known as "Big Jack's." There were lengthy discussions and all sorts of predictions, but all they could do was to await the morning papers, which might contain further and more definite news.
But if a clearing of the international political atmosphere was hoped for or expected in Halifax the following morning, the disappointment there was as sad and deep as it was in a dozen national capitals, all the chancellories of Europe, and in the State Department at Washington. Deep depression seemed to prevail everywhere, and indeed not without good reason.
The two newspapers of Halifax gave little additional news to that of the day before, but even this was of the most discouraging nature. It began to look, in fact, as though the representatives of the Japanese government had been instructed to seek a quarrel.
It turned out later that that was not at all the case, but who could discern the real motives behind the demands of that critical time?
Crowds hung about the local newspaper bulletin boards, but throughout the day they added little to the meagre enough news that had been given early in the morning.
Shortly before noon Jack received another code message from the makers of their machine, and with this the young men eagerly hurried to their hut, where they shut and locked themselves in, to avoid interruption during the process of deciphering, which, under the circumstances, was delayed rather than hastened by their own natural impatience.
But if the message, when finally translated, foreboded serious difficulties ahead, it also bore the seeds of an almost unbounded enthusiasm upon the part of the four young men.
"Consider yourselves in Government service," the message read, "and prepare for eventualities."
Of course, if this seemed to hold some indefinite sort of promise of more adventure, it also was filled with mystery, and might, after all, be entirely meaningless so far as concerned our four young friends, virtually for the time being chained in Halifax.
"What the deuce do you suppose it means, anyway?" asked Fred, when they had for the tenth time tried at further diagnosis of the baffling message.
"Guess about the only thing we can do under the circumstances is to sit pat and waitfor further developments or additional instructions," said Big Jack.
"Yes," added Don, "and under those same aforementioned circumstances that's about the most tedious and difficult thing in the world to do."
"Well, admitting all that, what are you going to do about it?" asked Andy, by this time utterly oblivious to a pair of swollen hands which still showed clear evidences of the battle of the day before.
"Under the said circumstances, nothing; that's what we'll all do for the present," Fred answered gloomily.
"Righto! And it won't keep us very busy, either," assented Andy, who was of a nature which refused to be suppressed.
"Fine weather, too, just by way of cheering humanity up," suggested Big Jack, as he gazed morosely out of the window. It was cloudy to the point of threatening more rain, which, of course, under the most favorable circumstances otherwise, would only mean further inevitable delays in any attempt at the across-sea flight.
"Oh, what's the use of growling? Let's have a game of cribbage," Andy the cheerful suggested.
"You three can," Fred answered, "but as for me, I'm going down to the station to wait for the outside newspapers to come in. I'm the original little handy guy when it comes to bringing home the news. I'll see what I can do this afternoon."
And while the other three, for the want of anything better to do, sat down to the game, Fred wandered off toward the station, knowing that fully half an hour more must elapse before the train would be in.
That interval was not to be put in entirely without profit, however, for Fred was to learn the natural sequence of the enforced departure of the treacherous pilot, Henryson. He got it from another member of Henryson's crew, who, either by message from the former, or by some intuition, seemed to know what had happened. This fellow merely informed Fred that Braizewell had decided not to enter his machine or crew in the Transatlantic flight.
A lot of things were becoming apparent since first discovery was made of Henryson's treachery, and not the least among them was the fact that Braizewell, being of that stamp, did not care to match his product against others in any honest competition.
Fred digested the statement about Braizewell's withdrawal without comment. What was the use of discussion with a man who was probably familiar with, and subscribed to, all of Braizewell's and Henryson's carefully cooked-up but eventually unsuccessful perfidies? Fred merely heard the bit of gossip and passed on. He wasn't interested in either Braizewell or Henryson, now that neither was in any respect a factor in the projected America-to-Europe flight. He just loafed around the station until the train came puffing in, and from the baggage car a bundle of papers were tossed to the platform; and then his spirits awakened again and he was the first to get one from the news man.
His spirits awakened, did we say? One glance at the front page and he flopped into one of the rough station seats to read half a column before he remembered his equally curious companions back at the hut, who were awaiting his arrival with the latest news.
And it was news. Conditions were reaching a crisis in the Peace Conference! Not that conditions hadn't approached other crises there before; but they had been concerning minor matters as compared with the present difficulties.
In a way it concerned the celebrated "open door" policy as regards China, which the illustrious John Hay had established years before when Secretary of State of the United States. It dealt with the disposition of Shantung and Chinese provinces which Japan wanted; and it related intimately to Japanese inquiries as to American guarantees to China, and American loans floated in behalf of that nation which today typifies the oldest and the slowest of civilizations.
But the crux of the whole situation lay in the Japanese demand to see the important documents. Not that her envoys doubted the veracity of other delegations to the Conference or the authenticity of reports and records which were shown. Oh, no; of course not! Time and again this was politely and diplomatically reaffirmed. There wasn't any doubt, only—well, Japanese statesmen would like to see the documents and treaties; in fact, insisted upon it.
At any other time the representatives of the United States might have adopted different tactics. But here were involved more issues than one; more governments than two; more nations than half a dozen.
And there seemed to be a prevailing feelingin the Peace Conference that, aside from the rather roughly insistent way in which she was going about it, Japan was within her rights in demanding to see and to know exactly what she was subscribing or binding herself to, especially since the President of the United States had himself, during the war, laid down the principle of "open covenants, openly arrived at."
Fred read enough of the article to give him an intelligent idea of the whole delicate situation, and then hurried off to the hut and his three waiting friends.
They received the news with mingled feelings. There was the one of natural resentment at any delegation or government using pressure approaching force in dealing with the United States. There was that of speculation as to how it would end, and when. There was the uppermost question of all: What effect would this suddenly developed and new international situation have upon the proposed Transatlantic flights?
Big Jack strolled over again to the window to gaze out at the muddied atmosphere of Halifax. From every viewpoint and everywhere it seemed to be a gloomy outlook. Men fresh from war are wearied of it and haveno desire for a new outbreak of that international pestilence. The glamor of it has gone; while they will of course fight if need be, they prefer the arts and the comforts of peace. They have learned to appreciate them a great deal more than they ever did before. Certainly no one in this group wanted to see any renewal of blood-spilling conflict.
"Well," said Big Jack finally, turning from the window and addressing the other three who had been debating the problem among themselves, "the thing resolves itself into this: apparently the American delegation has yielded to the pressure of unanimous opinion, or nearly unanimous opinion, in the Conference. But so far as I can grasp from reading this latest article, Japan is attempting to demand to see something within a period almost impossible for it to be produced at the Peace Conference to be seen. That's the ugly part of it all. It looks like any pretext for balking—if not worse."
"What I can't understand," said Don, "is the reason for her insistence and hurry."
"If we were familiar with the tricks and schemes of international dealings and diplomacy, perhaps all that might be clear," Andy answered. "We don't know, of course, whatJapan has in mind, or what her envoys may have been led to believe."
"True," said Jack, "and after all, I guess that's a matter which safely can be left with the American delegation, headed by our President. But it does look like a ticklish situation."
"The head-lines here seem to state it," Fred added. "They're brief but to the point: 'Japan Demands Immediate Presentation of Important Treaties.'"
"Yes, under veiled threats of withdrawing from the Peace Conference," Don supplemented. "I guess all this is sad news to the Huns, eh?"
"There's probably German trickery back of the situation somewhere," assented Jack.
"Which doesn't settle the question of who's going to fry the steak and potatoes for supper," interjected Andy. "Only, if it's Fred, for the love of Mike will he please see that the frying process reaches the in'ards of the steak."
Accepting the reminder that it was near dinner time, and that it was, indeed, his day as cook, but utterly ignoring the suggestion that he didn't cook things through, Fred arose to prepare the meal, and the useless consultation broke up with Don starting to the store for lard, butter and other necessities, and Big Jack accepting the assignment of bringing in the wood.
Could our friends have been in Washington early the following day and in the confidence of the inner circles of the Government, their spirits might have been far above what they were.
In the first place, the State Department had received word during the night, from no less an authority than the President himself, that the questioned documents in which Japan had shown such an interest were to be sent to France at the earliest possible moment, by the quickest and most expeditious way, in the care of the most trustworthy messengers to be found.
That of itself was a large order, and one likely to cause more than ordinary perturbation in the State Department; but when a Cabinet meeting was called and held a little later, and those present, knowing the seriousness of the situation as no outsider could know it, decided that the mission should be accomplished in record time, and thatincidentally in so doing America would set a pace for the world by sending the documents over by aeroplane, then among the staid and conservative old-school statesmen of the service there was a great wagging of heads, whisperings and forebodings.
Nevertheless that decision was arrived at, and right speedily, too. The question then remained, who was to be trusted with the double responsibility of getting a plane across the Atlantic, and of carrying the documents of world import?
The head of the Government's aero service was called into the secret conference, and to him the decision was revealed. The men selected must be of the finest caliber in ability, trustworthiness and capacity to hold their own counsel, and if necessary depend upon their own resources in any emergency which might arise. Whom could he recommend?
The sharp-visaged, snappy-eyed, gray-haired head of the air service listened in silence until the whole plan was outlined and the great question put to him. Could he supply such men? Such an aero crew? Men who could be trusted not only to get to Europe, but to get there with the documents?
Very calmly, as though answering aninquiry of everyday routine, the official who suddenly and for the moment had become the most important man in the United States, replied that he had such men.
"And who are they?" demanded the Assistant Secretary of State, who, after all, would be called upon to bear the greatest part of the burden if any mishap occurred.
"Americans," snapped the aero service head, who, for his own reasons held no very friendly feelings toward this temporary chief of another and even more important governmental department.
"Yes, yes," replied the Secretary of War, showing some impatience. "But who are they? Where are they?"
"They are now in Halifax, waiting for opportune conditions to make the Transatlantic flight. Of course you all know their names."
"Halifax? Halifax?" snorted the Assistant Secretary of State. "But, Great Scott, man, we want men who are here—at least in the United States—to start upon this trip at the earliest possible moment."
"Well, you can't start an unprecedented trip of this sort without preparation, and you can't start it at any old hour, or from any oldpoint along the coast," retorted the air service man with equal spirit.
"Are they prepared for such a trip—for such an important mission, now?" asked the Secretary of the Navy.
"They are prepared for such a trip, as well as any crew could be, and they are as capable, as courageous and as trustworthy as anyone could ask," was the response, "but of course, they did not contemplate a diplomatic mission at the same time. However, there is no reason why, if they are going across by plane, they should not carry documents, important or otherwise, with them."
"But these documents are such that if they once start with them they must get across," interrupted the Assistant Secretary of State testily.
"I see," remarked the air service man with fine sarcasm. "Wind, sea, fate, predestination and everything else be hanged. They've just got to suspend all elements for the time being and get across. That's perfectly clear."
The Assistant Secretary of State sputtered for a moment and got purple with rage. But before he could explode into language more violent than diplomatic, the Secretary of War intervened.
"How long would it take that crew to come from Halifax to Washington?" he asked.
"By plane?"
"Yes."
"If they were given orders by telegraph now, and barring mishap, they could be on hand here tomorrow morning easily."
"Very well then," said the Secretary of State, turning to address his colleagues of the Cabinet, "I suggest that we ask General Bronson to issue such instructions by wire or wireless to these young men at once, so that they may personally receive their instructions here tomorrow morning."
"Yes, but—" the Assistant Secretary of State, still scowling in the direction of General Bronson, started to say something; but inasmuch as it sounded like a remonstrance, and as his innate conservatism and antipathy to things modern were well known, he was interrupted by the Secretary of the Navy.
"It is the only feasible thing to do," he said. "Therefore it ought to be done at once."
"Very well, then," answered the Assistant Secretary of State reluctantly, while the others present agreed without further question or qualification.
"My understanding is, then," said General Bronson, rising and making ready to depart to carry out his share of the problem, "that I am at once to get in touch with the members of this crew, to have them come here by plane, and if possible be on hand by tomorrow morning."
"Correct, sir," responded the Secretary of War. "You probably will instruct them to land on the field over near Fort Meyer?"
"Yes, sir," responded General Bronson, and, saluting in true military style, left the room.
Thus it was, although the four young men in far-off Halifax could not know the preliminaries which had led up to it, that before 11 o'clock that morning a code message that was to be of world importance went sizzling through the air from one powerful wireless station to another, finally to be relayed by wire to the point outside Halifax proper, where the flying field and hangars marked the point from which the first Transatlantic aeroplane flight was to be attempted.
When they had received and translated it, the young men stood for a full minute looking at each other—as Big Jack explained it afterward, entirely flabbergasted.
"Come to Washington immediately byplane," the wireless read. "Land Potomac below city. Secrecy important."
And they didn't know that as he wrote this message General Bronson had had his own little chuckle at the expense of the Secretary of War, who seemingly knew so little about hydro-aeroplanes as to suggest that they land at Fort Meyer.
"Shoemaker should stick to his last," the head of the air service had muttered into his mustache as he penned the summons.
Among the four men in Halifax, however, there was almost uncontrollable excitement and anticipation. They had put two and two together, and true to the law of mathematics it had made four. In other words, they were convinced that their summons to the national capital was directly connected with the international situation.
Everything pertaining to their plane had been ready even for an over-sea attempt since the careful inspection which had followed the capture of Henryson in the hangar. They hurried there after reading the summons, to add the final details before their flight to the capital. This done, they ran the big bird-like machine out on its skids and down to the surface of the water. In less than an hour they were ready for the start.
"Trial on a day like this?" asked one pilot who sauntered up curiously.
"Not exactly a try-out," Big Jack replied, instantly realizing that here was a chance to lull suspicion and still idle gossip which otherwise would be awakened by their strange trip and stranger disappearance. "We're going to put her to some real preliminary tests in a long flight over land. Of course, with the pontoons on, instead of wheels, we'll hug the coast line, so as to be able to land quickly if necessary; but we don't anticipate any trouble, although we may make it a two-days' trip."
"H'm," the other man responded, looking at them queerly, as though he thought they were joking and expected them to laugh.
"See you in a day or two," Andy sang out as he opened the throttle. The engine began to bang out its challenging explosions and the propellers started to whirl.
"So long," the other pilot shouted, apparently still dubious, as Jack swung the plane round gently and she started to skim the water, gathering speed every second in preparation for taking the air.
In fifteen minutes they were completely lost to the view of those who had hastily runto the shore line when the powerful chug-chug of the giant motor had first rent the air. For the double purpose, however, of saving time and giving their disturbed colleagues every assurance that they were not in fact making the Transatlantic attempt, they headed due south, and were still keeping that direction when they disappeared from sight.
An hour later Fred opened up the wireless and finally got the Halifax station.
"Headed south, putting plane through tests," he tapped off by radio. "May be gone day or two."
He might have added, but didn't, "On important government business."