In the meantime Roy had skillfully avoided Dan Cassell's blow, and was aggressively on the defensive. He was a lad who did not care for fighting, but notwithstanding was a trained boxer. Something of this seemed to dawn on Dan Cassell as the boy he sought to pummel dodged his attack with such cleverness.
For a moment Dan stood stock-still with doubled up fists and a scowl on his not unhandsome, though weak and vicious features. Then, with a bellow, he rushed upon Roy, who contented himself by sidestepping the furious onslaught.
This appeared to enrage Dan Cassell the more. Either he interpreted it as portraying cowardice, or else he deemed that he had his opponent at his mercy. At any rate, after an instant's pause he rushed at Roy with both fists. It was the young aviator's opportunity.
"Look out!" he warned.
The next instant the pugnacious Dan Cassell found himself upon his back, regarding a multitude of constellations.
At almost precisely the same time Jimsy's fist happened to collide with the point of the jaw of the fallen battler's father.
"Sorry; but I simply had to, you know," remarked the nonchalant Jimsy, as the red-faced man found himself occupying a position not dissimilar to that of his son.
Both boys were heartily sorry for what had happened, the more so for the reason that at the very instant that both crestfallen bullies were scrambling to their feet the hotel door opened and several of the guests came out to ascertain the cause of the trouble.
Among them was Jonas Hardcastle, the proprietor of the place.
"What's up? What's the trouble?" he demanded, in dismay, as he viewed the scene of the confusion.
"It's those brats of aviators, or whatever they call themselves," bellowed Cassell, who was purple with fury; "they attacked Dan and me and assaulted us brutally."
The landlord looked doubtingly at the man. Then he turned to Roy.
"What are the facts?" he asked.
Roy told him unhesitatingly the whole truth. When he had concluded Jonas Hardcastle spoke.
"You've been hanging around here too long, Jim Cassell," he said, in a voice that quivered with indignation; "now make yourself scarce, both you and your son. Don't annoy my guests any more."
Cassell, nursing a spot on his jaw which was rapidly growing a beautiful plum color, lurched off without a word. His son followed. It was not until he reached the street that he spoke. Then, in a voice that trembled from suppressed fury, he hissed out:
"All right for you kids. You think you've played a smart trick on Dan and me; but I'll fix you! Just watch!"
Without uttering another syllable he slouched off into the gathering darkness, followed by his son, who bestowed a parting scowl on Roy and Jimsy.
"I'm sorry that you had a row with them," remarked Jonas Hardcastle, as the pair vanished.
"How's that?" inquired Roy. "They forced it on us, and—" "I know. I know all about that," was the rejoinder, "but Cassell is quite by way of being a politician hereabouts, and he might try to make it uncomfortable for you."
"In what way?" demanded Jimsy.
"Oh, many ways. Those fellows have no scruples. To tell you the truth, boys, I guess you haven't heard the last of this."
With this he left them, a prey to no very comfortable thoughts.
"I'm half inclined to believe what he said," declared Jimsy.
"In just what way?"
"Why, about the harm this fellow Cassell can do us. In every community like this you'll find one local 'Pooh-bah' who runs things pretty much as he likes. They have satellites who will do just about as they're told."
"You mean—" "That we'd better keep a good lookout on the aëroplanes. From my judgment of Cassell I don't think he's got nerve enough to attack us directly, but he can wreak his vengeance on our machines if we don't watch pretty closely."
"I'm inclined to think you're right. But don't say a word of all this to the girls. It might upset them. You and I will decide on a plan of action later on. To tell you the truth, I'm not any too sure of our newly acquired watchman, Tam Tammas."
"Nor I. We'll wait till the rest get back and then take a stroll down to that livery stable. Seems funny, doesn't it, to stable aëroplanes in a livery stable?"
"Well, why not? Wasn't Pegasus, the first flying machine on record, a horse?"
"Humph; that's so," agreed Jimsy, whose supply of classical knowledge was none too plentiful.
It was not long after this that the girls returned. With them came The Wren in a neat dress and new shoes, an altogether different looking little personage from the waif of the woods whom they had rescued at noon.
"Why, Wren," cried Peggy, "you are positively pretty. In a month's time we won't know you."
"A month's time?" sighed the child; "am I going to stay with you as long as that?"
Miss Prescott caught the wan little figure in her arms.
"Yes, and many months after that," she cried.
Roy and Jimsy exchanged glances.
"Another member of the family," exclaimed Roy; "if we go at this rate we'll have acquired an entire set of new sisters by the time we reach the Big Smokies."
"Anybody been around, Tam?"
Roy asked the question, as later on that evening he and Jimsy dropped around to the disused livery stable in accordance with their plan.
Tam shook his head.
"Nobody bane round," he rejoined, and then, after a moment's pause, "'cept Yim Cassell and his boy Dan."
"Jim Cassell and his son," echoed Roy, "the very people we don't want around here. What did they want?"
"They want know where you bane," rejoined the Norwegian youth.
"Yes; and what did you tell them?"
"I bane tell them I skall not know," responded Tam.
"And then?"
"They bane ask me if ay have key by door."
"Oh, they did, eh? What did you say?"
"I say I bane not have key."
"Then what did they do?"
"They bane go 'way."
"Didn't say anything else?"
"No, they must go."
"Said nothing about coming back?"
"No."
"All right, Tarn, you can go home now. Here's your money."
"You bane want me no more?"
"No; we'll watch here ourselves to-night. Good night."
"Good night," rejoined Tam, pocketing his money and shuffling off down the street.
He had hardly gone two blocks when from the shadow of an elm-shaded yard the figure of Dan Cassell slipped out and intercepted him.
"So you've been fired, eh?"
He shot the question at the simple-minded Norwegian lad with vicious emphasis.
"No, I no bane fired; they bane tell me no want me more."
"Well, isn't that being fired? Moreover, I can tell you that they've hired another fellow in your place."
The Norwegian youth's light blue eyes lit up with indignant fire. Like most of his race he was keenly sensitive once aroused, and while he was quite agreeable to being dropped from his temporary job, he hated to think of being supplanted in it. Crafty Dan Cassell was playing his cards well, for a purpose that will be seen ere long.
"So they bane fire me," ejaculated Tam.
"That's the size of it. I guess you feel pretty sore, Tam, don't you?"
"No, they bane pay me wale; but I no like being fired."
"I should think not. The idea of a man like you being dropped. What did they tell you when they let you go?"
"That they bane watch place themselves."
Dan Cassell smiled. His crafty methods had elicited something of real value after all.
"Did they say they were going to watch all night?" he asked.
"Yes," rejoined the Norwegian, "they ask about you, too."
"Humph! What did they want to know?"
"If you'd been round by stable and what I bane tale you."
"What did you say?"
"I tale them the truth. I say that you and your father bane by stable this evening."
Dan's face darkened.
"You had no business to tell them anything," he snarled. Then, with a sudden change of front: "See here, Tam, do you want to make some money?"
"Sure, I bane like make money."
"Then come into the house a minute. Dad and I want to talk to you."
So saying Dan took the Norwegian by the arm and led him in through a gate in a whitewashed picket fence. Beyond the fence was a fairly prosperous looking house, on the piazza of which lounged Jim Cassell smoking a cigar.
"Well, Tam," he said, "lost your job?"
The Norwegian replied in the affirmative.
"Well, never mind, I've got another for you," replied Jim Cassell, in what was for him an unwontedly amiable tone; "can you go to work at once?"
"Ay bane work any time skol be," spoke the Norwegian, and a puzzled expression flitted over his face as both Cassells broke into what was to him an inexplicable fit of laughter at his words.
In the meantime the boys had telephoned to the hotel that work on the aëroplanes would detain them till late. They did not wish to inform the girls that they were undertaking a night watch, as that would have led to all sorts of questions, and if their fears proved ungrounded they felt pretty sure of coming in for a lot of "joshing."
They agreed to divide the night into two parts, Jimsy watching till midnight and then awakening Roy who would take up the vigil till dawn. This arrangement having been made they secured a light lantern from an adjacent hardware store and, entering the deserted livery stable, prepared to carry out their plans. With the canvas covers of the aëroplanes Roy managed to fix up quite a comfortable bed on a pile of hay left in a sort of loft over the abandoned stable.
As for Jimsy, he made himself as comfortable as possible in the chassis of theGolden Butterfly, the seats of which were padded as luxuriously as those of a touring car. He had a book dealing with aeronautic subjects with him, and, drawing the lantern close to the aëroplane, he buried himself in the volume.
In the meantime Roy had rolled himself up in his canvas coverings and was sound asleep. For a long time Jimsy read on. At first frequent footsteps passed the door of the stable, but as it grew later these ceased. Folks went to bed early in Meadville. Long before midnight there was not a sound on the streets.
Jimsy read doggedly on. But he was painfully conscious of an almost irresistible desire to lie back and doze off, if only for a few seconds. The exciting events of the day had tired him out, nor was the book he was reading one calculated to keep his wits stirring. It was a technical work of abstruse character.
Jimsy's head began to nod. With a sharp effort he aroused himself only to catch himself dozing off once more.
"See here, Jim Bancroft, this won't do," he sharply admonished himself, "you're on duty, understand? On duty! Wake up and keep your eyes open."
But try as he would tired Nature finally asserted herself. Jimsy's head fell forward, his eyes closed for good and he snored in right good earnest. He was sound asleep.
It was about half an hour after he dozed off that a window in the rear of the stable framed a face. A crafty, eager face it was, as the yellow light of the lantern revealed its outlines. Dan Cassell, for it was he, gazed sharply about him. He swiftly took in the posture of the sleeping boy and a smile spread over his countenance.
Dropping from the ladder he had raised outside, he joined two figures waiting for him in the shadow of the livery barn.
"It's too easy," he chuckled, "only one kid there and he's sound asleep. Got everything ready?"
"Dey all bane ready, Maister Cassell," rejoined the slow, drawling voice of the Norwegian Tam.
"Now don't botch the job," warned the elder Cassell, who was the third member of the party; "remember it means a lot of trouble for us if we're caught."
"No danger of that, dad. Come on, I'll go first and you and Tam follow."
"Is the window open?"
"No, but it slides back. It's an easy drop to the floor from it."
"All right, go ahead. I'll be glad when the job's over. I'm almost inclined to drop out of it."
"And let those kids get away with what they did? Not much, dad. We'll give them a lesson they won't forget in a hurry. Come on."
He began climbing the ladder. Behind him came his worthy parent, and Tam formed the last member of the now silent procession. The Norwegian carried a bulky package of some kind, the contents of which it would have been impossible to guess save that it gave out a metallic sound as Tam moved with it.
Dan Cassell reached the window, slid it noiselessly back in its grooves and then, crawling through, dropped lightly to the floor within. He was followed by his father and Tam.
But Jimsy slept on. Slept heavily and dreamlessly, while deadly peril crept upon him.
The movements of the invaders of the stable, which now housed the "winged steeds" of the young aviators, were mysterious in the extreme. The Norwegian carried a tin can containing some sort of liquid which he was ordered to pour about the floor in the neighborhood of the aëroplanes. This done, Dan Cassell collected several scraps of litter and made quite a pile of it.
"All ready now, I guess," he said, with what was meant as an attempt at a grin. But his lips were pale, and his forced jollity was a dismal failure. As for his father, he made no attempt to conceal his agitation.
"Dan, they may be burned alive," he faltered; "better call it all off."
"Not when we've gone as far as this with it," was the rejoinder; "give me a match."
"Dan!"
"It's all right, dad. They'll wake in time."
"But if not?"
"Then they'll have to take their medicine."
With fingers that trembled as if their owner was palsied, Jim Cassell handed his son some matches. The latter took one, bent low over the pile he had collected and struck the lucifer.
A yellow sputter of flame followed, and the next instant he was holding it to the pile of litter which had been previously soaked by the contents of the Norwegian's can.
But before he could accomplish his purpose and set fire to the pile of odds and ends saturated to double inflammability by the kerosene the Norwegian had carried, there came a startling interruption.
There was a knock at the door and a girlish voice cried:
"Roy! Roy, let me in!"
"Furies!" exclaimed Dan Cassell under his breath. "It's one of those girls."
"Come on. Let's get away quick!" exclaimed his father, trembling from nervous agitation.
"Not before I set a match to this," exclaimed Dan Cassell viciously.
He touched the match to the pile and the flames leaped up.
"Now for our getaway," he cried, and the three fire-bugs ran for the window by which they had made their entrance.
In the meantime a perfect fusillade of blows had been showered on the door outside. Jimsy awoke just as the last of the three midnight intruders vanished through the window. His first instinct was a hot flush of shame over the feeling that he had betrayed his trust.
Then to his ears came the voice that had alarmed the Cassells and their tool.
"Roy! Jimsy! Are you there?"
"It's Peggy!" gasped Jimsy.
"And Jess," he added the next instant, and simultaneously there came the pounding of a stick on the door.
"This is an officer of the law. Open up at once."
Jimsy, dazed by his sleep, had not till then noticed the blazing pile of litter. Now he did so with a quick cry of horror. The stuff was blazing up fiercely. Already there was an acrid reek in the air.
"The place is on fire!" he shouted.
The next moment there came a violent assault on the door and the crazy lock parted from its rotten fastenings as a man attired in a police officer's uniform burst into the place. Behind him came two wide-eyed frightened girls. The leaping flames lit up their faces vividly.
"It's fire sure enough!" cried the police officer.
"Great Scot, what's happening?"
It was Roy who shouted the question. He was peering down from the loft where he had been sleeping. The uproar had awakened him and in a jiffy he was among them.
"Quick! the fire extinguishers!" he cried, and Jimsy, readily understanding, secured the flame-killing apparatus from the biplane and from theRed Dragon.
He and Roy, aided by the officer, fought the flames vigorously, and, luckily, were able to subdue them, though if it had not been for the as yet unexplained arrival of Peggy and Jess it is doubtful if they could have coped with the blaze. When it was all out Peggy rushed into explanations.
"Something warned me that you were in danger," she exclaimed, "and I woke up Jess and we found this officer and came down here."
"What gift of second sight have you?" demanded Roy, gazing at the smoking, blackened pile that had threatened the destruction of the inflammable premises.
"I don't know. Womanly intuition, perhaps. Oh, Roy!"
The girl burst into a half-hysterical sob and threw her arms about her brother's neck.
"You arrived in the nick of time, sis," he said, gently disengaging himself from her clasp, "a little more and—"
He did not finish the sentence. There was no need for him to.
"Begorry, the ould place 'ud hev bin a pile of cinders in an hour's time," declared the policeman.
It was Jess's turn to give an hysterical little sob.
Roy turned to Jimsy.
"Did you see anything? The place is reeking with kerosene. It was a plot to destroy the aëroplanes and perhaps ourselves."
"I—I—"
Jimsy stammered. The words seemed to choke up in his throat. How was he to confess that he had failed in his trust—had slept while danger threatened?
"Well?"
Roy waited, plainly surprised. It was not like Jimsy to hesitate and stammer in this way.
At last it came out with a rush.
"I—I—you'll never forgive me, any of you—I was asleep."
"Asleep! Oh, Jimsy!"
There was a world of reproach in Jess's voice. But Peggy interrupted her.
"How was it, Jimsy?" she asked softly.
"I don't know. I give you my word I don't know."
Jimsy's voice held a world of self-reproach.
"I was reading," he went on, hurrying over the words as if anxious to get his confession over with, "that book of Grotz's on monoplane navigation. I felt sleepy and—and the next thing I knew I woke up to hear you pounding on the door and shouting."
"A good thing the young ladies found me," put in the policeman; "shure I was after laughing at them at first, but then, begorry, I decided to come along with them. It's glad I am that I did."
"Who can have done this?" asked Roy, who had not a word of reproach for his chum, although Jimsy had failed dismally in a position of trust.
"Begorry, they might have burned you alive!" cried the policeman indignantly.
"No question about that," rejoined Roy; "it was a diabolical plot. Who could have attempted such a thing?"
"Wait till I call up and have detectives sent down here," said Officer McCarthy. "I'm after thinking this is too deep for us to solve."
Nevertheless, each of that little group but the policeman had his or her own idea on the matter.
The result of the telephone call was a request to call at the Police Headquarters of the little town and give a detailed account of the affair.
"Gracious! I should think that the only way to get a clue would be to send a detective down here," exclaimed Peggy, on receipt of this information.
"We have our own ways of doing them things, miss," rejoined the policeman with dignity.
Then there being nothing for it but to obey instructions of the authorities, they all set out for the police station. They were half way there when Jimsy recollected that they had left the aëroplanes unguarded.
"'Twill make no difference at all at all," declared the policeman; "shure it's too late for anyone to be about."
"It wasn't too late for them to set that fire though," rejoined Roy in a low voice.
At police headquarters they were received by two sleepy-looking officials who questioned them at length and said they would be at the stable in the morning to hunt for clews.
"Why not go after them now, while the trail is hot?" inquired Jimsy.
"We have our own ways of doing these things, young man," was the reply, delivered with ponderous dignity.
"Well, we might as well go to bed and get a few hours' sleep anyhow," suggested Roy; "I can hardly keep my eyes open. How about you, Jimsy?"
"I—I—I've had some sleep already you know," rejoined Jimsy, reddening.
Thoroughly tired out from their long day and excitement, the party slept till late the next day. The first thing after breakfast plans for the continuance of the trip were discussed, and the day's program mapped out. This done, the girls and boys set out for the stable to look over the machines.
They found a pompous-looking policeman on guard in front of the place, ostentatiously pacing up and down. On identifying themselves they were at once admitted however. The man explained that he had only been on guard for an hour or two, and that during that time nothing worthy of mention had occurred.
While Jimsy was talking to him Roy and the others entered the stable. An instant later Roy, too excited to talk, came rushing out of the dis-used livery barn.
"What's up now, Roy?" demanded Jimsy, gazing at his chum, who for his part appeared to be too excited to get his words out.
"There's only three!" gasped Roy.
"Three what?" cried Jimsy.
"Three aëroplanes," returned Roy.
"Rubbish, you haven't got your eyes open yet."
"I'm right, I tell you; come in and count them if you don't believe me."
"Roy is right," cried Peggy, running up to the group; "theGolden Butterflyhas been stolen!"
"Stolen!" interjected Jimsy.
"That's right!" cried Jess; "those stupid police people left the barn unguarded. Whoever tried to set it on fire must have returned and stolen theButterfly."
They regarded each other blankly. Was this Sky Cruise that they had looked forward to with such eager anticipation to be nothing but a series of mishaps?
"It's awful!" gasped Peggy; "nothing but trouble since we started out."
"D'ye think it was stolen?" asked the policeman with startling intelligence.
"Well, it didn't fly of its own accord," was Peggy's rejoinder, delivered with blighting sarcasm.
The patrolman subsided.
"Maybe we can find it yet," suggested Jess.
"I'd like to know how," put in Jimsy disgustedly.
"Perhaps we can trace it. It must have been wheeled away."
"Ginger! That's so," cried Roy, snapping his fingers; "it would leave an odd track too, wouldn't it?"
"Well there's no harm in trying to trace it," admitted Jimsy, who appeared rather skeptical.
"Come on, then; get busy," urged Roy eagerly.
The next instant there came a cry from Peggy.
"I've struck the trail!" she cried.
"Where?"
The word came in chorus.
"Here! Look; you know theButterflyhad peculiar kind of tires. See, it was wheeled up the street in that direction."
She pointed to where the village main thoroughfare ended in a country road.
"I'm not after takin' much stock in that," remarked the policeman.
"We won't bother you," rejoined Roy rather heatedly; "I guess we won't wait till your local Sherlock Holmes gets on the trail, we'll follow it ourselves."
"But who'll go?"
The question came from Jimsy.
"We can't all go, that's certain," exclaimed Bess.
"Tell you what we'll do, we'll count out," declared Jess, her eyes dancing.
"A good idea," hailed the others.
"Roy, you start it; but remember, not more than three can go."
"Why?" inquired Peggy point blank.
"Because we'll have to take the car, and someone must be left to look after Aunt Sally and the aëroplanes," spoke Roy, falling in with Jimsy's plans.
"Well, come on and count out," urged Jess.
"Yes, that's it. Let's see who will be it," cried the others.
"Very well, if I can remember the rhyme," responded Roy. "How does it go anyway?"
"Inte, minte," suggested Jimsy.
"Oh, yes! That's it," responded Roy. "I've got it now. Inte, minte, cute corn, apple seeds and briar thorn, briar thorn and limber lock, three geese in a flock, one flew east and one flew west, one flew into a cuckoo's nest, O-U-T out, with a ragged dish clout, out!" ending with Bess.
"Sorry for you, Bess!" cried the lad, "but you're the first victim to be offered up."
"Oh, well, it's too hot to go chasing all over dusty country roads," declared Bess bravely, although she would dearly have loved to go on the adventurous search for the missing aëroplane.
One after another they were counted out till only Roy, Peggy and Jimsy remained.
"Hurry up and let's get off," urged Jimsy as the "elimination trials," as they might be termed, were concluded.
"Very well. We'll get the car—it's in the garage at the hotel—and incidentally, we might get a lunch put up also. It may be a long chase."
The officer regarded them with frank amazement.
"My! but you city folks rush things," he exclaimed.
"I suppose they'll get busy on this case day after to-morrow," exclaimed Roy disgustedly, as they hastened away.
It was half an hour later that the big touring car, with Roy at the wheel, rolled out of the hotel yard. Jake had been told off to guard the livery stable and the aëroplanes while the rest remained with Miss Prescott, who was seriously agitated at the accumulation of troubles her party had met with since setting out.
"I declare," she said, "I wish I was back at home where I could get a decent cup of tea and be free of worries."
The trail of the aëroplane was not difficult to follow. It led down the village main street and thence along a country road till it came to a sort of cross roads. Here it branched off and followed a by-road for a mile or so. At a gate in a hedge all signs failed however, although it was plain that the machine had been wheeled through the gap and taken across a field.
Beyond this field lay what appeared to be a wilderness of woods and bushes.
"Stumped!" exclaimed Roy, as he brought the auto to a stop.
"Well, what next?" asked Jimsy.
"Make a search of those woods, I suppose," replied Roy; "there's nothing else to do."
"No, the trail has brought us here," replied Peggy energetically; "we must make a determined effort to find theButterfly."
"Maybe they've damaged it so that we won't be able to do anything with it when we do get it," spoke Jimsy presently.
"Whom do you mean by they?" asked Roy.
"As if you didn't know. Is there any doubt in your mind that that fellow Cassell is at the bottom of all this?"
"Not very much, I'll admit," replied Roy; "I wonder if that accounts for the inactivity of the police."
"In just what way?"
"Well, the fellow's a local politician and has a lot of 'pull'."
"Hemusthave, to get away with anything like this," was Jimsy's indignant outburst.
"Well, don't let us waste time speculating," put in Peggy, in her brisk manner; "the thing to do now is to get back theGolden Butterfly."
"You're right, Peg," came from both boys.
By this time they were out of the car, which they left standing at the roadside while they examined the vicinity for tracks. But the grass in the field was fairly long and no traces remained. Yet, inasmuch as the tracks of theButterflyended at the gap in the hedge, it was manifest that that was the point at which it had been wheeled off the road.
"What next?" asked Jimsy, as it became certain that there was little use in searching for a trail in the meadow.
"It's like looking for a needle in that proverbial haystack," struck in Peggy.
"In my opinion we need the patience of Job and the years of old Methuselah," opined Jimsy.
Roy alone was not discouraged.
"It can't be so very far off," he urged; "it stands to reason that they can't have come much further than this since midnight, supposing the machine to have been stolen about that hour."
The others agreed with him.
"We'll search all around here, including those woods," declared Peggy.
"Well, they can't have taken it very far into the woods," declared Jimsy; "the spread of its wings would prevent that."
"That's so," agreed Roy; "I think we are getting pretty 'warm' right now."
"All I am afraid of is that they may have damaged it," breathed Peggy anxiously.
"It would be in line with their other tactics," agreed Roy; "men who would try to burn down a stable with two boys in it, just to obtain revenge for a fancied insult or injury, are capable of anything."
Without further waste of time they crossed the meadow and came to the edge of the wood. At the outskirts of the woods the trees grew thinly and it was plain that it would have been possible to wheel an aëroplane into their shadow, despite the breadth of its wing-spread.
They passed under the outlying trees and presently emerged into a small, open space, in the midst of which was a hut. Just beyond this hut was a sight that caused them to shout aloud with joy. There, apparently unharmed, stood the missing aëroplane.
"Hurray!" shouted Roy, dashing forward.
The others were close on his heels. In their excitement they paid little or no attention to the surroundings. It might have been better for them had they done so. As they dashed across the clearing two male figures slipped off among the thicker trees that lay beyond the open space and the hut.
A brief examination showed them that the aëroplane was undamaged. There were a few scratches on it, but beyond that it appeared in perfect condition.
"We'll fly back," declared Jimsy to Peggy; "Roy can run the auto home."
"That's agreeable to me," responded Roy; "but suppose we examine the vicinity first. We might get a clew as to the rascals who are responsible for this."
"That's true," agreed Jimsy.
"Then suppose we start with the hut first."
They accepted this proposition eagerly. The hut was a substantial looking building with a padlock on the door. But the portal stood wide open, the padlock hanging in a hasp.
"What if anyone pounces on us?" asked Peggy in rather a scared tone.
"No fear of that," replied Roy, "the place is plainly unoccupied."
They entered the hut and found it to be as primitive inside as its exterior would indicate. A table and two rude chairs stood within. These, with the exception of a rusty cook stove in one corner, formed the sole furnishings. There was not even a window in the place.
"Nothing much to be found here," declared Roy after a cursory examination; "I guess this shack was put up by lumbermen or hunters. It doesn't seem to have been occupied for a long time."
"I guess the men who took the aëroplane must have been pretty familiar with the place though," opined Jimsy.
"No doubt of that," replied Roy, "but that doesn't give us any clew to their identity beyond bare suspicions."
"Yes, and suspicions aren't much good in law," chimed in Peggy, "they—Good gracious!"
The door closed suddenly with a bang. Before Jimsy could spring across the room to open it there came a sharp click.
"Somebody's padlocked it on the outside!" he cried.
"And we're prisoners!" gasped Peggy.
"Yes, and without any chance of getting out, either," declared Jimsy; "there's not even a window in the place."
"Well this is worse and more of it," cried Roy. "Who can have done that?"
"The same people that stole theGolden Butterfly,"declared Peggy. "Hark!"
Outside they heard rapidly retreating footsteps, followed by a harsh laugh.
"Let us out!" shouted Roy.
"You can stay there till judgment day, for all I care," came back a hoarse, rasping voice; "you kids were too fresh, and now you're getting what's coming to you."