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Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
 People jumped into the air, fell on each other’s necks and
screamed with delight. Ready arms stretched out to help the two
boys out of the water. Smiling, happy, Jack turned to his rival and
the two shook hands. The Slavin group formed a circle and cheered
Jack and then everybody else they could think of. Paul, Jack and the
other boys also formed a circle and returned cheer for cheer.
The contest was over and a number of people went away. The
spectacle, however, was by no means over. It had been arranged to
include several items on the schedule as pure fun-provoking
spectacles. The first such event was performed on the diving board.
Bobolink dressed up in a pair of balloon pants, and a bonnet on his
head; Ted, on the other hand, put on a bathing suit that was twice
his size, his fingers hiding in his sleeves and the bottoms flopping
around his legs, with a life preserver around his midsection.
Bobolink appeared first on the board. Shaky and nervous, he
walked out to the edge of the board. Suddenly slipping, he bounced
on his back, went up into the air and came down on his stomach; he
tried to grasp the board, but in vain; up he went again and came
down on his head and then catapulted into the water, swimming
through the air. As he went under water, his bonnet went floating on
the surface of the lake. Coming up again, he retrieved his bonnet
and waited for Ted to perform.
Ted took a running slide across the board and as he came to the
edge, he heeled over, trying not to slide off; clawing the air, he
balanced back and forth, back and forth, appearing as though this
moment he was going into the water head first and the next
moment—no. Finally he did slip off and as he fell through space he
managed to grasp a hold on the board. Like a see-saw, the board
went up and down, with Ted trying to clamber onto the board again.
He managed to put his legs around the board and his fingers slipped
and there he was hanging head down. After performing all sorts of
gymnastics with his hands, he fell into the water head first. And to
the great enjoyment of the spectators, Ted didn’t go fully
underwater but got stuck in the water, head, shoulders and as far as
his midsection immersed, while his feet stuck up, kicking vigorously.
Everybody laughed at the sight until tears ran down their faces.
Bobolink swam over and after spinning Ted around several times,
helped him to turn over. Righted again, only half of him was under
water. Bobolink pushed him below the surface several times and the
fellow bobbed up like a spring. It was all the result of the life
preserver around his midsection.
Two canoes were placed in the water and each contained a tilting
pole. The two contestants, Paul and Cy, were told to swim out and
each occupy a canoe, which the boys did easily enough. However,
they were not supplied with paddles and in order to approach within
striking distance of each other, they were obliged to paddle with
their hands. Separated by a distance of about three or four feet, the
boys stood up in their canoes and poised their poles. But in the
meanwhile, Paul’s canoe had drifted away and Cy called out, “I say,
don’t run away. Come back and defend your honor.”
“Just you wait a minute,” replied Paul. And he immediately
squatted and with his hands paddled up nearer to his foe.
The spectators cheered and laughed with glee. They were having
as much fun as the contestants themselves who now crossed poles
as a sign that the battle was on. They thrust at each other but only
jabbed the air. Their canoes drifting apart, both had to sit down and
do some paddling again. Someone on shore shouted, “Get together
there, will you? Do something!”
Others echoed the cry and urged the contestants on to do
something. Just as soon as they were close enough, both boys
jumped up and grabbed their poles. Cy thrust out and Paul dodged it
and poked back; but Cy caught it on his pole and pushed it away.
Again the poles crossed. Cy’s canoe was drifting away, and he
leaned forward a trifle, reaching out to strike his opponent; instead,
Paul pushed his pole into Cy’s shoulder and the latter plunged into
the water. Paul stood up his pole and thrust out his chest as a sign
of victory. The spectators ashore applauded and cheered him. But
just then Cy bobbed out of the water and tipped Paul’s canoe,
throwing him into the water, which caused the spectators a great
deal of amusement.
 The boys were getting dressed in the boat-house. They were
jabbering away a mile a minute. Ted stood up on a bench and called
out, “Everybody attention, please!”
“Pull him off!” someone shouted.
“Don’t let him talk!” another added.
“Hear! Hear!” someone else shouted.
When all had finally quieted down, Ted began, “A friend of mine
—”
He was interrupted by several voices. One cried, “Who’s she?”
“What’s her name?”
“How do you know she’s a friend of yours?”
“Quiet! Quiet!”
Ted continued. “As I was saying, a friend of mine has arranged a
dance as a successful completion of today’s events.”
“Yea!” one of the boys cried.
“Hooray for your friend!” another shouted.
“And for Ted!” was added by another boy.
“Hooray for all of us!” cried Cy.
Quiet was restored and Ted finished his statement, declaring,
“The dance will be held at eight o’clock, the place—the High School
gym, and you are all not only invited but urged to come.”
He was applauded, cheered, and thanked for the information. All
the boys promised to come.
 CHAPTER XVII

Man Chained

The boys were in conference. Nuthin’ said, “I still maintain,

fellows, that we ought to call in the police. After all, what can we
do? Suppose that gang uses guns against us, then we’re lost.”
Paul answered, “As far as their using guns against us, we will
have to risk that. But then, whatever plan we adopt to capture that
gang, we’ll use our brains and make it so they won’t have a chance
to use their guns. As for calling the police, if we do that, it is very
likely that the whole gang will get away. Imagine what the police
method would be. They would remove all the stuff from the cave
and then wait around for the thieves to come and be caught. But
they won’t come because it’s bound to leak out and be given a lot of
publicity.”
“And another thing,” chimed in William, “look at all the fun we’ll
be missing.”
“But very dangerous fun,” retorted Nuthin’.
“Your imagination is carrying you away,” interposed Ken.
Nuthin’ shrugged his shoulders and withdrew his objections.
Wallace spoke up. “Let’s get down to business,” he said, “and
develop some plan.”
“Suppose someone suggests something and then we will all chip
in,” remarked Ken.
 The boys nodded and Wallace was the first to offer his opinion.
“According to our information, which is scanty, they are supposed to
return within ten days or two weeks from a week ago Saturday. Now
as far as we are concerned, we have to be there on the spot. That
means that we must prepare to camp there for about a week, and
we have to leave tomorrow.”
“Is that agreeable to everyone or does anyone have any
objections or want to add something?” asked Paul.
“Only this,” spoke up Bobolink, “and that’s to keep a constant
watch at the cave.”
“We’ll come to that when we work out the details,” interrupted
Jack. “For the present, I’m sure that we’re all agreed to the proposal
advanced by Wallace.”
For the next three hours the boys sat in a group and designed a
plan. Every detail was taken care of and everyone was sure that it
would work out well.
Very early the following morning, all the eight boys, with full
packs on their backs and wearing their Boy Scout uniforms, marched
out of Stanhope and took the road to the mountain. Wallace pointed
out to them the abandoned farm house, behind which was the road
leading to the mysterious airport. Jack’s immediate suggestion was
that they enter and search it. All the boys eagerly assented and lots
were drawn for the two who would enter the house, two who would
search the yard and barn while the others were to deploy and be on
the watch. Paul and Wallace won the chance to enter the house,
while Ken and Jack were to explore the yard and barn.
The boys withdrew from the road and put all their packs
together, with Bluff to watch over them. William was stationed at
one point to carefully watch the main road; he himself was to keep
in hiding and not to be seen. Bobolink was directed to watch the
back of the house and Nuthin’ was told to walk back on the road
about a quarter of a mile and to watch for any suspicious characters
and keep a general lookout.
 Paul and Wallace approached the house silently, carefully,
examining the exterior of the house with each step. Circling the
house, they found that several of the windows were broken and
nailed with boards. As a whole, the house was not in bad condition
and was habitable. Several signs led them to believe that the house
had been used on and off recently. Paul pointed to a number of
footprints that did not appear to be very old; Wallace spied a banana
peel which could not have been more than about ten days or two
weeks old. At the back of the house the boys came across pieces
that appeared to have been chopped in the recent past. Turning to
his friend, Wallace remarked, “Looks like they used this place all
right.”
“Yes,” agreed Paul. “And I think that we’ll most likely find a lot of
interesting things inside.”
The boys approached the front door and Paul tried the knob. It
wouldn’t open. The boys tugged and pushed but the door held fast.
“What are we going to do,” asked Paul, “break in the door?”
“No. Let’s pry away the boards from one of the windows and gain
entrance that way.”
Paul agreed. At one of the side windows Wallace used his hatchet
and pried away three boards giving them enough room to climb
through. Wallace was the first to tumble in and Paul quickly
followed. With the help of their searchlights, they examined the
room. It was very dusty, with cobwebs and several broken chairs
strewn about the floor; otherwise the room was completely empty.
Paul whispered, “Well, there’s nothing much here, so let’s move on.”
The floor squeaked as they tiptoed to the door. There was no
knob and the door stuck tightly. Wallace used his hatchet and pried
it open. The boys stepped into a large foyer. To one side were the
stairs leading to the flight above, and across the hall were two
doors. They approached the nearest door and endeavored to push it
open; it stuck fast. Pulling and tugging, the knob broke loose. Rather
than break in, Paul suggested that they try the second door first.
The boys entered into a kitchen. On one side was a coal stove and
an oil burner; against the window was a table with several dirty
dishes; a couple of chairs stood by. While Paul examined the closets,
Wallace struck a match and tried the oil burner. It burned and that
revealed that it had been in recent use. In the closet, Paul found
odds and ends of crockery, rags and several pieces of old clothing.
From the kitchen, a swinging door led into the next room—the
room the boys could not enter from without. There they saw two
open cots with blankets and pillows. A third cot, folded, stood near
by. In the middle of the room were a large, round table and four
chairs. On the table lay several used candles, a couple of small liquor
glasses stood nearby and an empty whiskey bottle. There were
some rags and pieces of clothing strewn about. The boys wheeled
around on their heels slowly, examining the room closely. Paul spied
an overcoat lying in a heap in a corner. He tiptoed slowly across the
room and picked it up; very dusty, still it looked like a good coat. He
put his hand into the pocket and his fingers touched a cold and hard
object. It was an automatic. He whispered across the room to his
friend. Paul snapped open the magazine and found it loaded.
Pushing back the safety cap, he put the gun into his pocket. Again
he picked up the coat and in the second pocket found a box of
cartridges. Whispering across the room, the boys decided to
appropriate the automatic and cartridges. Walking silently over to
join his friend in front of the fireplace, Paul passed a hand over his
brow and whispered anxiously, “We’re in the gang’s hangout all
right. And I hate to think what would happen to us if we were
caught.”
“It would be just too bad,” answered Wallace. “But it’s too late to
withdraw now.”
“Yes. But I’m beginning to think that Nuthin’ was right. We
should have called in the police.”
“Too late,” repeated Wallace. “We’ll have to make the best of it.”
Coming out into the hall, the boys mounted the stairs, Paul
leading and Wallace following. At the head of the stairs they stopped
to look around. There were two doors to their left. No attic. Paul
tried the first door. It held fast. Pushing and tugging didn’t seem to
help. Wallace whispered, “Let’s try the next door.”
 The next door swung open at the mere touch of Paul’s hand.
Entering, they found the room very dusty but entirely empty. There
was a single closet; opening it, that too was found to be empty.
They returned to the hall. Wallace whispered, “You think we ought
to break in there?”—meaning the first door they tried but found
locked or nailed.
Paul shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. What do you think?
Is it worth the trouble?”
“You really can’t tell. From the looks of things, it seems as
though they don’t use this floor.”
“Then why should the door be locked?”
“I can’t say. Let’s break in, so we won’t have any regrets.”
Wallace set to with his hatchet. Paul cautioned him to make less
noise. But it was necessary to do a lot of chopping before the door
would open. Wallace swung the door open and remained at the
threshhold. Wallace gasped and Paul quickly reached into his pocket
for the gun. They stepped into the room. Sprawled over on the floor
was a man chained to a chair. Quickly glancing about to see if
anyone else was in the room, they then hurried to pick up man and
chair. Upright, the man’s head hung down and had every appearance
of being dead. Paul put his ear to the man’s heart, listened closely
for several seconds and then whispered, “Still alive.”
“Wonder who he is?” asked Wallace.
“Let’s first set him free.”
The man was chained hands and feet and then the chain ran
several times around his body and the chair and both ends of the
chain were held fast by a lock. Trying to break the lock was found to
be futile. So Paul attacked one of the links with the hatchet. After
removing the chains, they stretched the man out on the floor. Paul
made a quick search through his coat pockets. From the right one
the boy brought out a badge. Wallace craned his neck to see. It was
a government agent badge.
“Do you think he is a real government agent?” whispered
Wallace.
 “Must be.”
“What’ll we do?”
“Take him out of here. Quickly. He needs air and medical
treatment.”
Wallace grabbed the man’s legs and Paul took him under the
arms. Thus they carried him downstairs. At the window, Paul said,
“We’ll lay him down here for a while. You go and call a couple of the
boys.”
He jumped through the window. Hesitating for a moment
undecided which way to turn and whom to call, he put his fingers
between his lips and sent out a low, shrill whistle. Dropping behind a
clump of bushes, he lay there waiting, watching. In about a minute
he noticed Ken and Jack appear from somewhere in the rear of the
farm yard. They stayed close together and sneaked along from tree
to tree. From the expression on their faces Wallace could tell that
they were in a quandary as to where the whistle came from. He
exposed himself and waved to them. They came on the run. “What’s
the matter?” demanded Jack.
“Anything wrong?”—that from Ken.
Wallace waved away their questions and instructed them to wait
under the window. He clambered in. The man now had his eyes
open and made an effort to move his lips. Paul and Wallace picked
him up and handed him out through the window. Jack and Ken
gasped. Paul cautioned them. “Be careful. Hold on.”
Outside, Paul instructed Wallace to nail up the window again,
while the three of them would take the man to the other side of the
road, to where Bluff and their knapsacks were. That accomplished,
Bluff was sent out to call in the other boys.
They stretched out a blanket on the grass and with another
blanket for a pillow, they made the man comfortable. Paul moistened
his lips with water and let him swallow a couple of mouthsful. After
which the man fell into a doze.
Nuthin’ added, “He certainly needs medical attention.”
 Jack shook his head. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with
him organically,” he said. “He must have gone without food for a
long time and that weakened him. Also the fact that he was tied to
that chair.”
“Perhaps he wouldn’t want us to get a doctor because a doctor
would have to notify the police. And he may not want that.”
Paul spoke up. He said, “One of us should run back to the
nearest grocery to buy a bottle of fresh milk, several cans of fruit
juice and some fresh fruit and vegetables.”
“I w-will g-go,” offered Bluff.
Paul cautioned him. “Make believe that you’re hiking by yourself
and don’t answer any questions.”
Bluff nodded and was off. The boys sat down in a circle and Paul
said, “Now we’ll hear what the result of your exploration has been,
Jack and Ken. Which one of you is going to do the talking?”
“There’s really nothing to tell,” spoke up Jack. “We found nothing
suspicious nor unusual.”
“Was the barn just plain empty?” questioned William.
“Yes,” replied Ken, “except for a few sticks and stones.”
“How about the yard?” asked Bobolink.
“We searched thoroughly but we didn’t come across a thing.”
Pause. Silence. Finally Jack said, “Suppose you now tell us all the
other things you found in the house.”
Between them, Paul and Wallace related their entire experiences,
not omitting any detail. He took out and showed the automatic and
the box of cartridges. By the time the narrative was completed, Bluff
had returned. Warming up a glass of milk, Paul fed it to the stricken
man, a little at a time. Revived, he smiled and opened his lips to
speak but Paul cautioned him not to exert any effort and just to rest.
He lay down again and fell asleep. About two hours later he awoke
and Paul fed him a cup of pineapple juice and a soft boiled egg. The
man seemed to regain his strength rapidly. He was now fully able to
speak but he uttered only a few words. “Thank you,” he said. “I will
now rest a little longer.”
 Toward afternoon, the agent recovered sufficiently to sit up and
declaim his hunger. But on the recommendation of Paul, to which he
agreed, he was given only warm milk and again a soft boiled egg on
toast. As he ate, the boys gathered around and watched him. When
he had finished his meal, he sat quietly for a short while, passing his
hand over his several days growth of beard and laughing in his
throat. Finally he spoke, his voice throaty and rusty. He asked, “Do
you fellows mind telling me how you came to be in that house?”
The boys shut their mouths and kept quiet. The embarrassing
silence lasted for about a minute. At last Paul replied, “Don’t you
think, sir, that it is really your task to explain to us how you came to
be in the condition in which we found you? We are Boy Scouts and
by our treatment of you, it is evident that we are friends and mean
you no harm.”
The man stroked his chin and hesitated. He let his sharp eyes
roam from one silent boy to another, judging them, evaluating their
characters. Wallace held out the badge they had found on him and
asked, “Is this yours, sir?”
He glanced at it, nodded, took it and dropped it in his pocket.
“Thank you,” he muttered. He still seemed to hesitate. Finally he
spoke, low and throaty. “My name is Tom Woods and I want to
thank you boys for saving my life. Another day and I would have
passed out.”
“How long have you been a prisoner there?” questioned Jack.
“What day is this?”
“Monday.”
He thought for a moment. “Since Saturday morning,” he replied.
“Do you know if the gang is coming back for you?” Ken asked.
The agent shrugged his shoulders. “I really don’t know. But I
imagine that they were going to let me rot there until doomsday.” He
again let his eyes roam from one face to another. “I was in luck to
have you boys find me. Once more, I thank you. You saved my life
and I hope that someday I shall be able to repay the debt.”
 Wallace leaned over and whispered something to Paul who
nodded. For several seconds the boys waited for the man to speak,
but he kept his mouth tightly shut. Wallace whispered, “Mr. Woods,
did you know that they are scheduled to make a shipment one of
these days?”
Though the question had been in a low whisper, the agent had
caught every syllable; at the word “shipment” he winced, but so
imperceptibly that only three of the boys had noticed it. He smiled
wanly. He confessed. “I am a government agent. It appears that you
boys have information—valuable information—which I desire.” He
paused and stroked his chin. “It’s only fair then, I guess, that I tell
you how I came to be chained to that chair in the farm house—a
most inconvenient situation.” And he laughed in his throat. “I have
been on this case for several months. I suppose you know that we
are dealing with a gang of arms smugglers?” He put the statement
in the form of a question and he noticed that several of the boys
nodded, which was the clue he wanted.
“Well,” he continued, speaking low, almost in a whisper, “There
really isn’t much to tell. I happened to come upon their hangout—an
apartment in the city. Keeping a steady watch for several days, I
learned their movements. One night, I watched them leave their
apartment one by one and I decided to go up and investigate. I got
in all right, but two of their comrades whom I had never seen leave
or enter the building, were there to greet me. After that, things
happened so fast I still find it difficult to recall all the details. At any
rate, the next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor of a car traveling
at a good rate of speed. I made believe that I was still unconscious
and listened to their talk, but they said nothing to give away their
secrets. Eventually they brought me to this farm house and chained
me to the chair. The rest you know already.”
The boys stared at him in astonishment and silence prevailed for
a short while. Finally he said, “Now it’s your turn to tell me all you
know. I’m under the impression that you boys have a great deal of
valuable information.”
 The fellows looked at one another and kept quiet. They left it to
Paul to do all the talking and tell as little or as much as he felt would
be advisable. Paul, however, saw no reason for withholding any
details of the information and he told all. As he progressed in his
narrative, Tom Woods gasped with surprise several times. He
listened attentively, wrinkling his brow and his jaw set as he did so.
When the story was at last completely told, he confessed his
amazement. For a short while he kept perfectly silent and
concentrating on some plan he had in mind. He asked, “What time is
it now?”
“Almost three o’clock,” answered William.
“How far away is this camping ground you were heading for?”
“Close to ten miles,” he was told.
The government agent shook his head. He suggested, “The first
thing we ought to do right now is to find a camping spot. I don’t
think I’m strong enough yet to walk ten miles. Tomorrow, maybe,
but not today. However, would you boys object if we found some
spot about a mile or two from here and pitched camp?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Paul and turned to the boys for
affirmation.
“Then we’ll do that,” Woods said, “and then we will devise a
complete plan of action. You boys know so much and are so familiar
with the surroundings that I shall have to include you in all my plans
to capture the gang.”
The boys immediately set off. Tom Woods accompanied by
Wallace followed at a slower pace. They found a good spot and
pitched camp. After supper, the boys gathered around the camp fire
and together with the agent devised a plan of action for the next
few days.
 CHAPTER XVIII

The Trap

The following morning the boys rose early. They had had a
refreshing and restful sleep and they were now ready and eager to
carry out their plan. William supervised the preparation of breakfast
and each one of them had a hearty and satisfactory meal. Tom
Woods, too, had by now sufficiently recovered to have a full meal.
He even declaimed that he now felt as well as ever. But the shadows
under his eyes and the paleness of his skin told a silent story of
horrible torture.
The agent rose to his feet and stretched himself. He called Paul
over and asked, “Do you mind lending that automatic of yours? And
also the cartridges. I may have to use them.”
Paul surrendered the pistol and ammunition. Several minutes
later, Wallace called out, “I’m ready, Mr. Woods, if you are.”
“I’m also ready, so let’s go.”
Wallace shouldered his knapsack and waving goodbye to the
other boys who were busy breaking camp, he and the agent set off.
As for the rest of the group, just as soon as everything was ready,
they set off for their destination—their old camp ground, which they
reached at about noon. After a fifteen minute rest, lunch was
prepared. Paul then declared a thirty minute rest period, adding,
“We have a lot of hard work ahead of us which must be
accomplished before nightfall. So relax, then we will get to work.”
Ken was left behind to keep guard at camp and put it into order.
The other boys set off, with the cave their destination. When they
got there, Bobolink and Nuthin’ were stationed at strategic points to
keep a careful watch. Paul, Jack and William hid in the shrubbery.
Paul picked up several light stones and threw them at the door of
the cave. Some moments passed. The boys, anxious and
determined, breathed hard. Jack crept forward on his hands and
knees and moving so that the door would act as a shield, he slowly
and quietly opened the door wide. There was no one in the front
compartment of the cave and the door was closed. Jack crept back
into hiding and now Paul and William rose to their feet and stole
quietly away. The two boys crossed the stream and came upon the
shrubbery-hidden opening that led to the back of the cave. Paul
crept in; William kept guard. In a short while Paul came out. “How
does it look inside?” William asked.
“The place is just full of wooden cases and boxes. They must
have been here very recently and we missed them.”
“That’s nothing. Since they have their baggage here yet, they will
come back. If not today, then tomorrow or the next day. In the
meanwhile, I’m going back to give Jack the word. Is that all right?”
“Yes. If you two get through with your job first, come and give
me a hand.”
“Very well.”
William disappeared and Paul set to work. Jack was waiting for
William to return and just as soon as he did, the two boys got busy
in front of and around the cave. They worked arduously and quickly.
Finally the boys were done and without hesitating or wasting a
minute, they set out to help Paul whom they met on the way. “You
have everything finished?” the latter asked.
The boys nodded. “And you?” queried William.
“All done.”
“Good.”
 The boys returned to their camp. It was already dark when
William appeared. “Well, did anything happen?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “And here?”
“Nothing.”
Early the following morning, Jack left camp. He walked at a
steady rapid pace and in about three hours he arrived at the farm
house. Wallace had told him that Tom Woods would meet him there.
He searched for some sign of the agent and finding none, he
entered the yard and crept stealthily along, aiming for a position
which would keep him in hiding while he had a good view of the
road and most of the yard. He gained his goal and stretched himself
out on the ground, prepared to wait until the agent showed up.
Suddenly he felt the presence of someone close to him. He bounded
up from the earth, but Tom Woods grabbed him and pulled him
down again. The man laughed. “It’s all right, boy,” he whispered.
“Whew! You certainly scared me, Mr. Woods!” Jack exclaimed,
heaving a sigh of relief.
“Just a little foolish playfulness on my part,” the agent stated.
“What’s the news from camp?”
“Nothing happened. The boys did everything they were supposed
to and everything is ready to greet the gang.”
“That’s good. I have a faint suspicion that we won’t have to wait
for them long either.”
“You think they’ll come today?”
“Most likely. Though I wouldn’t swear to it. Nothing is certain,
you know.”
They lay there side by side and conversed in very low whispers.
Woods questioned the boy about his home, his activities, his friends
and all sorts of little details about his life. In return he told many
anecdotes of his experiences. He possessed a very fine sense of
humor and he twisted every story he told into a humorous narrative.
He had Jack giggling most of the time.
It turned out that Tom Woods was wrong and nothing happened
that day. Towards nightfall, he instructed Jack to return to camp, tell
the boys to be ever on the watch and have Wallace come down the
following morning. It was quite dark when he reached camp and he
was so tired that after a sandwich he turned in for the night.
Wallace rose with the dawn and wasted no time getting set for
his hike down the mountain. When he arrived at the farm house,
Tom Woods played the same trick on him as he did on Jack. Side by
side, the two lay in hiding and waited. “What did the boys do
yesterday?” asked the agent.
“They kept watch all day long but nothing happened.”
“It will today,” asserted Woods.
All day long they lay in hiding and waited. It appeared as though
Tom Woods was wrong again. But that did not despair him. He
continued telling his humorous anecdotes and kept himself and his
companion cheerful. The sun swung across the horizon. Noon came
and passed. The hours dragged along. Towards five o’clock, the
government agent suddenly broke off in the middle of a sentence;
he became very alert. Wallace felt a cold chill run down his spine.
Woods hurriedly whispered, “Don’t get excited. Stay under cover
until I tell you otherwise.”
A car swung slowly in from the road into the yard. Behind the
farm house, it stopped. Wallace whispered to his companion, “The
one at the wheel—Bud, the stranger.”
Woods nodded. He held the automatic ready. As the car stopped,
Bud jumped out and called back over his shoulder, “Just want to
take a look around. It’ll take me only a minute.”
The agent crept away. Silently he tiptoed from behind the car.
Coming close, he hissed. “One move or sound and you’re dead. Put
up your hands.”
The gangster raised his hands above his head and moved to step
out of the car. As he did so, he made a quick, wild move for his
pocket. Woods swung, hitting the gangster an awful wallop on the
chin with the butt end of his gun. The gangster let out a yell as he
went down in a heap. The agent quickly crawled behind the car. Bud
came running from around the corner of the house and hid himself
behind a tree. He waited. Woods also crouched and waited, but
became impatient and fired across the top of the car. No answer.
Wallace was still lying in the same position and eagerly watched
the proceedings. He was anxious and excited. He wondered what he
could do to help but he realized that for the present the best he
could do was to keep out of the way and let the two fight it out. One
of them, he thought, would surely never leave that yard alive. He
only hoped that everything would come out for the best.
Bud stretched himself out on the ground and began to shoot
wildly, combing the ground. A pause came as the gangster took time
out to reload his gun. Tom Woods took the opportunity to make a
dash of several yards and throw himself behind a pile of logs which
he had set up for the occasion. He shifted his position for two
reasons: one was that the car did not offer a good enough barricade
and secondly to draw the firing away from the direction where
Wallace was hiding.
A fraction of a second after he threw himself behind the
barricade, a bullet buried itself in one of the logs. The agent
answered it by sending a bullet that just skimmed the bark of the
tree. Tom Woods waited. He was in a better position than his enemy.
Safe behind his barricade, he also had an open view of the yard and
gate and he could not be taken unawares by anyone coming from
that direction. Of course, he might be surprised by someone coming
from the mountain, but that was unlikely because he could, without
endangering himself, frequently turn his head, and scan the outlying
woods and farmland. On the other hand, Bud was in a precarious
position. He had only one alternative and that was to flee. But to
leave his safe position behind the tree was to invite a bullet from
Tom Woods’ gun, which might be fatal. So he also settled down to
watchful waiting. Now while the agent was in no hurry and had
plenty of time, the gangster was anxious and in a hurry to get to the
cave. Without doubt, the government agent had the advantage.
In the meanwhile, Wallace wondered what he could do to help
end the situation quickly in favor of his friend. After Tom Woods took
up his new position, he felt that Bud’s attention would be entirely
taken up by the agent and that he was free to move away from his
spot. Crawling on his belly, he moved slowly and gradually. Finally he
came to a position that placed him to the rear and to left of the
gangster. He picked out a good-sized stone and, rising on his knees,
took careful aim and hurled the missile. Then he fell quickly under
cover.
The stone missed its objective and bounced off the tree.
However, it attracted Bud’s attention. The gangster turned quickly
and fired twice in the direction from which he thought the stone
came. In doing that, however, he exposed his arm up to his elbow.
The next instant he let out a most horrible scream. The agent had
sent a bullet through the gangster’s wrist. The pain was real but the
intensity of the yell was a foil. The gangster bounded forward to
recover his weapon which had fallen out of his hand. The next
moment he uttered a deep cry and toppled over. A bullet from
Woods’ gun had pierced his throat.
Suddenly everything was silent again. There was a long pause.
Tom Woods lay behind his barricade and waited, while Wallace, in
his hiding place, also did not move. When he thought it was all right,
the agent came out from behind his shelter and called for Wallace to
come forward but to be careful. First they attended the gangster
who was knocked out by Tom Woods. The stricken man, at the first
touch, moaned. The agent put his hand to the man’s jaw and the
gangster bounded up as if he had been struck by an electric shock.
Wallace whispered, “You must have cracked his jaw when you hit
him.”
“Guess so. Give me a hand and we’ll carry him to the barn.”
Bud, lifeless now, was also carried to the barn. Removing the
clothes of the two gangsters, the agent and Wallace donned them.
Wallace looked a little ridiculous in his outfit but his companion fixed
him up so that he looked all right. Finally, they tied up the wounded
man so that he couldn’t escape, and tied a handkerchief over his
mouth so that he could not cry out. The two came out of the barn.
The agent held one of the automatics used by the gangsters and
said, “Here, you had better take it boy. It may come in handy later.”
 Wallace hesitated but finally he took it and put it into his pocket.
They walked over to the car. All the windows were shattered and
one tire was flat. Wallace said, “A couple of holes in the gas tank.”
Woods looked and then remarked, “We can plug the holes up;
they are not at the bottom of the tank which is something to be
thankful for. And we will have enough gas in there to make the ten
miles.”
The two of them set to work. Under the front seat they found
tools with which to remove the flat tire and put on the spare. Getting
into the car, the agent started it up and they were off. Wallace
showed him the road and Woods hurried to get to the cave. After a
while, he laughed and asked, “Well, how did you enjoy the little
shooting match?”
“I can’t say that I particularly enjoyed it. It’s too bad that Bud
was killed.”
“I guess you’re right, boy. I don’t enjoy killing anyone either. But
sometimes it just can’t be helped.”
“I guess that’s true, Mr. Woods. But it is too bad that it ever has
to be done.”
“Well, when we get a better social system in which men and
women will have no reason to be dishonest then there won’t be any
shooting of anyone, I guess.”
Wallace had nothing to say, so he kept quiet. After a while, the
government agent said, “When you come to think of it, you had
more to do with the death of that gangster than I did.”
“How do you mean?” questioned Wallace anxiously.
“You threw the stone and forced him to expose himself.”
“Yes, but you did the shooting.”
“Of course, but—well, never mind. Let’s talk of something else.”
They rode along, the agent telling a cheerful anecdote while
Wallace listened.
 CHAPTER XIX

At The Cave Again

By the time all the boys had washed and dressed, William had
breakfast ready. Most of them were tense and impatient, but on the
whole, they felt good. Leaving Jack behind to keep guard at the
camp and clean up the dishes in the meanwhile, the boys set out for
the cave. At their destination, the boys separated, each going to his
station where he lay in hiding and watched. As the hours passed
slowly and wearily, most of the boys became a little cranky and
impatient. Paul decided to go from boy to boy, talk to him for a while
and try to calm him.
At noon, Bluff was sent back to camp and Jack returned with
sandwiches he had prepared and canteens of ice cold water from the
stream. Paul went to each boy in turn and passed out the
sandwiches and a drink of water. And again it became a matter of
watchful and patient waiting. Jack, lying close to Paul, asked, “You
think they’ll come today?”
“It’s hard to tell. But they are about due.”
“Mr. Woods thinks that they will surely appear today.” Pause.
Deadly silence except for the breeze fluttering through the branches
and leaves. “You know,” Jack added, “this is getting on my nerves
already. I’d like to see it come off and be through with it.”
 “Patience, Jack,” his friend continued, “you can’t hurry a situation
like this.”
Paul moved away and went to keep someone else company for a
while.
At about six o’clock, Jack, who was watching the road, was
suddenly brought out of his lethargic position. Sprawling on the
ground, he thought he heard the sound of a motor. Putting his ear to
the earth, he listened for some moments to the rumbling sounds
that came to his ear. The car was several hundred yards away yet
when he spied it. Quickly and noiselessly, he picked himself up and
sprinted away. He came upon Paul and told him the news. Not
hesitating in the least, Paul told him where to take up his position
and what to do. Then Paul ran on and passed the word for all of
them to be on the alert.
Paul returned and took his place beside Jack. As they waited,
every second seemed to stretch out into an hour. Those who were in
the car—whoever they were—were apparently in no hurry. Finally,
after what seemed an endless wait, Paul nudged Jack and pointed
out two moving figures. Holding their breaths, they watched and
waited. The boys were quite positive that the moving figures would
head for the clearing and cross it. Then they were greeted by a
surprise—a shocking surprise—that awaited them. But they were
disappointed. Jack whispered, “They’re heading this way.”
“Yes. You think they have any suspicion of what’s awaiting
them?”
“I don’t think it matters. Our plan takes care of anything that
might be different than we expect.”
The boys kept quiet. Two figures passed within five feet of them.
Jack began to fidget as the figures were passing. Paul had a hard
time controlling him, keeping him from talking. As the two men
passed, Jack whispered, “There’s something familiar about the fellow
in the lead; something about his walk.”
“I was just going to say the same.”
 The boys held their breaths. As the two men approached one of
the traps, they stopped. Some whispering went on between them,
as though one was explaining something to the other. A minute later,
the one who had been doing all the explaining, put his fingers
between his lips and gave a low, shrill whistle. Jack wanted to jump
up and run over. “The one who whistled is Wallace,” he whispered as
Paul held him.
“Most likely is, but let’s wait and make sure.”
There was a pause of a minute or so. Again the man whistled,
then they both waved handkerchiefs. Paul and Jack then came out of
hiding as they finally recognized Tom Woods and Wallace. Jack was
sent to notify the other boys and to instruct them to continue their
watch. In the meanwhile, the three of them withdrew to take
counsel together. The government agent said, “You boys have it all
fixed up here. A man couldn’t get away to save his life. I think you
have done marvelously well.”
Paul smiled. “We have laid our plans very carefully,” he answered,
“and we hope everything will come off all right.”
“I hope so too.”
Just then an airplane fell out of the sky and dived straight for the
ground. Straightening out at about five hundred feet up, the plane
circled the field several times. Wallace whispered, “That’s the same
plane we told you about. We saw it land here once before. I
remember it well.”
Tom Woods barked, “Keep quiet now and don’t move; we may be
seen from above.”
“No chance of that, sir,” answered Paul. “From up above they
can’t see a thing except the top of the trees. We had better hurry
and take our positions before they land.”
With Paul in the lead, the three of them sprinted from cover to
cover and took their positions. At the last moment the government
agent told the boys to hurry and move away somewhere else—take
some other position. If there was any shooting, he didn’t want them
to be in line of fire.
 The boys moved off. The plane in the meanwhile had glided
down to a landing. It was quite a large, powerful ship with a double
motor. Two men jumped to the ground. The one in the lead was
recognized by the boys as the Chief. Very unconcernedly, the two
walked across the clearing and headed directly for the cave. As they
came to the edge of the woods, the chief, for no reason and without
any provocation as far as it could be determined, whipped a gun out
of his pocket and fired across the top of the cave. Tom Woods, who
thought that he was firing at one of the boys, sent a bullet whistling
past their heads. The trap which the boys had laboriously prepared
and set was now a futile gesture. Whereas if they had walked into
the trap as set, there would have been no bloodshed; now it seemed
inevitable.
The two gangsters now dropped to the ground and sent bullets
whistling in a semi-circle. To rise and dash back to their plane was
suicide. They would be in the open, a clear and perfect target for
Tom Woods’ bullets. On the other hand, dropping to the ground and
taking shelter where they did, they forestalled being surrounded by
the boys. As for the government agent, there was nothing he could
do to obtain a more advantageous position. Of course, he could
have one of the boys keep up a withering fire while he crept to their
side or their rear. But he was against risking the life of any one of
the boys.
For a while only occasional shots were exchanged. Suddenly Tom
became aware that the two gangsters had devised a means of
escape, if not for both, at least for one of them. The two were
separating, moving further apart slowly and gradually. The agent
realized that their plan was to separate a certain distance, so that
one of them would keep him occupied while the other crept back to
the plane. It was a clever and subtle plan and from every indication
it appeared that they would succeed. They were also most probably
aware that only one man faced them. Under that condition, there
was nothing Tom could do that would prevent the one who got back
to the plane from returning with help. Or possibly he might bring out
of the plane a machine gun, and that would be enough to wipe him
out. He became really worried. What could he do to prevent one of
them from reaching the plane.
He determined that as long as it was possible for him to do so,
he would fire alternately at both racketeers and occupy both of
them. He also wondered what the boys were doing. “But,” he
thought to himself, “I had better keep from thinking of anything else
and concentrate my attention on those two gangsters. I’m positive
the boys will be able to take care of themselves.”
Tom noticed that slowly and gradually the gangster on his right
was moving backwards, and each time he fired at the moving form,
he was answered by the second man, the one on his left. The
spasmodic shooting kept up for almost half an hour. Suddenly there
was heard the roar of the airplane motor; in an instant, the machine
was turning into the wind and taxiing for a take-off. Both Tom
Woods as well as the gangsters were so surprised that they almost
forgot each other. As the plane was still taxiing across the field, one
of the racketeers sent a couple of ineffective bullets after the
machine; but the shots did no harm. The plane rose off the ground
easily. Tom rationalized to himself, “Whoever it was that escaped
with the plane, couldn’t be a friend of theirs, or he wouldn’t have
fired at it.”
Tom’s ammunition was running low and he could answer only
one shot to his enemy’s three or four. Five or ten minutes after the
plane had gotten away, he was again astounded to realize that
someone was firing at the gangsters from their rear. “Must be
Wallace,” he thought to himself.
And so it was. Paul and he had withdrawn at the behest of Tom
Woods. Eagerly they watched the battle. Several times Wallace
wanted to use the gun the government agent had given him but
Paul held him back. They, too, soon became aware of the
manoeuver of the two gangsters to permit one of them to return to
the plane. Cautioning Wallace on how to behave himself and what to
do, Paul crept away and was soon out of sight. A short while later
Wallace heard the roar of the motor and he heaved a sigh of relief
as he watched the plane take off. He was positive that one of his
comrades was escaping with the plane, though he couldn’t imagine
who. As for himself, now was the time to act, he thought; the two
were trapped. Moving closer to the edge of the woods and picking
out a sound shelter and one that placed him well to the rear of the
gangsters, he aimed carefully and fired his first shot.
Now to return to Tom Woods, the government agent. Realizing
that someone was attacking from the rear, perhaps it was Wallace or
maybe Paul, he tried to trick the gangsters into surrendering, “You
better throw down your guns and surrender, you two,” he called out.
“That was the signal that my men have arrived. You can’t get away
now.”
“We’ll give you hell first,” cried the chief.
“Very well, then,” returned the agent. “I’ll count three. If you
don’t surrender, I’ll give my men the signal to blast you to hell. One!”
The smugglers answered with a volley of shots. “Two!” cried
Tom.
The gangsters withheld their fire. They waited. “Three!” The
word echoed through the stillness of the woods.
“Go to hell!” answered the chief. “How the devil did you ever
break your chains and escape, you flatfoot?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” countered Tom.
“Yes, tell me.”
“When I have you in jail. Then I’ll pay you a visit and tell you all
about it.”
“I should have cut your throat instead of merely chaining you.”
“Why didn’t you? Soft-hearted or something?”
The chief answered with his gun. Tom raised his voice and cried,
loud enough to be heard a mile away, “All right! Shoot to kill.”
He had two guns and he shot from both of them as quickly as he
could pull the trigger. Wallace, who heard him, took the cue and also
emptied his revolver. The effect was that the two smugglers seemed
to be attacked on all sides.
 Silence ensued, suddenly broken by a shot coming from a third
direction. A piercing cry cut short the echo of the bullet. The chief
bounded up from the ground and then fell back again, dead. Tom
wondered who it was that had shot. He took advantage of it,
however, and called out, “Hey, Smoky, do you want to give up or do
you want to join your chief?”
There was a pause. Smoky answered, “I want to give up. Tell
your men not to fire.”
Tom cried out, “Hold your fire!” To the gangster, he said, “Now,
drop your gun and stand up.” The smuggler complied. “Raise your
hands above your head. Now turn around. You make one move and
you’ll go home in a box.”
Smoky complied willingly. The government agent dashed from
one cover to another, his gun ready for action should the smuggler
change his mind. Finally, stepping forward softly, he came up behind
the gangster. Taking a short piece of rope that he carried in his
pocket, the agent tied the smuggler’s hands behind his back. Just
then Wallace stepped forth out of the woods, and handed Tom
several yards of sturdy rope which the agent used to tie the
smuggler’s hands and feet. That done, he turned to the boy and
said, “I think it’s all right now to get the boys together.”
Wallace nodded. He whistled three times and the boys crept like
shadows through the woods. They met in front of the cave. The
government agent looked at the boys, their expressions still set and
determined and their eyes full of wonder and anxiety. He laughed.
“Everything is all right now, boys. You may relax.” He turned to Paul
and asked, “Where did you get that rifle?”
Paul scrutinized his weapon. “Inside the cave,” he answered.
“Bullets too.”
“And you were the one that shot the chief?”
Paul looked away embarrassed. “I was terribly surprised to see
him topple over. Because I didn’t even aim at him.”
The boys and the government agent joined in laughing heartily.
“So!” Tom muttered, twisting the words into a humorous expression,
“You don’t aim but you hit the bull’s eye just the same!”
Their laughter was interrupted by the roar of an airplane
overhead. They watched the machine lose altitude gradually and
continually circle around and around. When it was at about a
thousand feet, Wallace exclaimed, “It’s the same machine.”
“Who escaped with the plane, by the way?” asked Tom Woods.
The boys looked at each other. “Who is missing?” asked Paul.
“William.”
“Jack.”
“Anyone else?”
“Bluff, but he’s at camp.”
“Then it must have been William and Jack who are in the plane,”
Paul stated.
“Then you had better wave to them. Signal them to land,” said
the agent.
They all ran to the clearing and waved. As the huge machine
showed that it was going to land, all of them retreated, so that the
plane might have a perfectly clear space in order to land. Tom
remarked, “I didn’t know you had aviators among your group.”
Wallace informed him, “Six of us are pilots.”
“And you never told me!” The agent said that he was angry that
they had kept the information from him. “In the meanwhile,” he
called out, “you boys take shelter. It doesn’t pay to take chances and
we really don’t know who is in the plane.”
The boys took up hiding positions and watched the machine
descend to a perfect landing.
 CHAPTER XX

Battle In The Sky

While those on the ground were so occupied with the fight they
did not notice a battle going on above their heads; a battle between
two planes.
When the plane landed with the smugglers, Jack was with Paul
and Wallace. As soon as the first shot was fired, his first thought was
that the crooks might use the plane to escape in. So he whispered to
his two companions that he would return to his former station and
watch the road; possibly, others of the gang might drive up and it
would be best to spy them before they had a chance of becoming
acquainted with the situation. Paul thought it was an excellent idea
and he permitted Jack to carry out his plan.
As Jack moved noiselessly away, Wallace wanted to enter the
conflict and Paul restrained him. Then Paul went away and left
Wallace by himself. The latter immediately moved into position and
was going to fire when his attention was attracted by a creeping
shadow at the farther end of the field. By the form and outline of the
moving figure, he guessed it was Jack. And for that reason, he
withheld his fire—so that the attention of the smugglers might not
be attracted to the figure moving toward the machine.
Jack was a short distance away from the plane when he became
aware that someone else—almost at a right angle to him—was also
creeping toward the machine. He flattened out in the grass to wait
and see who the other creeping figure was. For a short while he lay
there hugging the earth, not daring to move or lift his head even
slightly to see who the creeping figure might be. After about five
minutes, a pebble fell near him and Jack flattened out still more. In
a minute another pebble fell near him, followed by a hissing sound.
He lifted his head very slightly and out of the corner of his eye saw
the other person wave a finger at him. He decided that it must be
one of the boys and he continued dragging himself across the earth
toward the plane.
Jack and William crept up to the under-carriage of the plane
almost simultaneously. William whispered, “Inside.”
Without any further hesitation, William swung himself up and into
the plane. Jack waited. A hissing sound came to his ears and he
knew it was the signal for him to follow. Up he went and into the
plane. Both boys heaved a sigh of relief. William got into the pilot’s
seat. “Now to take her up into the air,” he muttered.
“You think you can fly her? She’s a pretty large ship, you know.”
“I can try. In the meanwhile, you go in the back and look
around.”
Jack nodded and proceeded to obey. William studied the
dashboard as well as all the other gadgets everywhere around him.
Though he had never flown this type of ship, he was sure he knew
how. Major McCarthy had explained it to him in detail and he now
knew exactly what to do. He only hoped that the motor wouldn’t
falter or need warming up, because that would necessitate the loss
of precious time. But he didn’t think so because the motor was still
warm from its previous trip. He was right. Everything went off
beautifully. Every single gadget responded to his slightest touch. The
motor roared, the ship turned into the wind and giving the ship a
sufficient run, it took off like a great bird winging into the sky.
William was thrilled and exhilarated. He felt the power flowing
into him through his finger tips which rested lightly on the joystick.
Jack came forward “How is she flying?” he asked.
 “Beautifully. What did you find back there?”
“Nothing much. Some boxes, a couple of small wooden cases,
two revolvers in one of the lockers, and also two boxes of
cartridges.”
“You had better bring the revolvers and cartridges here. Most
likely we’ll have no opportunity of using them but we might as well
be prepared.”
“I thought so too,” answered Jack. “I have them right here.”
“Good.”
They were climbing. When they reached an altitude of about four
thousand feet, William guided the machine away so that his
companions and all the others below would not see the plane and
would think that he had flown away. He flew in an extended circle
and kept circling around and around. Jack asked, “What are we
going to do now?”
“I don’t know myself. What do you suggest?”
“How about flying to the airport and getting Major McCarthy and
maybe the police?”
“I don’t know whether that would be of any help.” responded
William. “By the time we come back, their help would be of no use.
On the other hand, if we stick around here and watch how the
situation below unfolds itself, we may be of some help. They may
need our revolvers and ammunition and we might drop them. Or
they might need us for something else.”
“That’s true. But then again, if we should land, perhaps those
smugglers will get the ship again and make their escape.”
“I can fix that very easily,” explained William. “I’ll cut the
ignition.”
“That’s right. Never thought of it.”
The boys continued their circling flight. Some five minutes
elapsed when William caught sight of another plane making its
appearance on the eastern horizon. Coming nearer, they saw that
the machine was heading directly towards them. “You think he’s
coming at us?” asked Jack.
 “Let’s wait and see.”
The plane was soon upon them. The boys recognized it as a
Bristol, a small craft but possessing a powerful motor, modeled after
army pursuit planes. The Bristol flanked the boys on their right side
and flew along. The pilot was making signs to William which the
latter could not understand; besides he was too intent on piloting his
plane to pay any attention to him. He called to his companion, “Can
you make out what he wants, Jack?”
Jack was already at the window and watching the other craft.
“No,” he answered. “He holds his fist up and moves it in a circular
motion and then points down. I can’t understand what that means.
Can you?”
“Perhaps he wants to land and is asking us about a safe place to
land.”
“I doubt it,” answered Jack. “He doesn’t seem to be in any
trouble. And coming from the direction he did, he must have passed
the Stanhope airport.” There was a pause while Jack continued to
watch. “I think he’s using his wireless,” he called out. “See if you can
pick him up.”
William inserted a plug and turned a disc on the dashboard. Half
a minute later, William nosed his plane into a dive and was off. But
the Bristol was right on its tail. “That guy is a confederate of those
smugglers,” hissed William. “He was asking if the stuff was on board
and we were ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“He didn’t say. Just asked if we were ready.”
The next moment they heard a sharp sound and knew that the
pilot of the Bristol had fired at them, the bullet burying itself in some
part of the fuselage or wings. William brought the nose up and
began to climb. Simultaneously he cried, “Load the revolvers, Jack,
and see if you can fire back.”
William wondered what he could do to get the pursuing plane off
his trail. He banked and dived again and came up climbing. Jack
broke a window, stuck his hand out and fired point blank at the nose
of the Bristol. He pulled the trigger fast and emptied his revolver. A
bullet must have struck close to the pilot, for the next instant the
Bristol dived.
The Bristol was a much faster plane, easier to manoeuver than
the craft the boys were in. “What are you going to do now?” queried
Jack anxiously.
“I’m going up into the clouds and try to shake him.”
But the next instant Jack cried out, “He’s coming right up and it
looks as though he intends to hit you amidships.”
“Fire when he comes close enough, and when I hear you fire the
first shot I’ll bank right and dive.”
Jack pulled the trigger and William performed a half arc and
dived; the Bristol zoomed past so close that Jack held his breath.
William levelled out and began to climb again, hoping this time to
reach the clouds. But again the Bristol was upon them and sending
bullets into the fuselage and wings. William, however, kept on
climbing and Jack frustrated the other fellow’s getting on their tail by
firing point blank at the nose of the Bristol. For a moment the enemy
craft disappeared and then William discovered it overhead. They
heard the muffled thud of bullets sinking into their craft but doing no
harm. The next instant William cried, “He’s flying away.”
“You think he has given up?”
“Maybe he—” William left off in the middle of the sentence and
gasped as he watched the Bristol execute an Immelmann turn. He
intended to fly straight into the craft, firing as he did so and hoping
to hit the gas tank, and dive just in time to avoid a crash. William
was aware of the manoeuver. “You better lay low, Jack,” he cried.
The two machines flew against each other. Just as soon as the
enemy fired the first shot he banked and pulled the nose of the ship
up. He still had to climb a thousand feet to get among the clouds.
He decided to risk it even if the Bristol got on his tail. “The other
pilot certainly must be a clever one,” he thought. Besides, the Bristol
was a lighter and faster craft and with the other fellow’s obvious
experience, he couldn’t help being out-manoeuvered. His safety
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