Airplane Boys
Discover the Secrets
of Cuzco

Airplane Boys
Discover the Secrets
of Cuzo

BY
E. J. CRAINE

THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.

CLEVELAND, O. NEW YORK, N. Y.

Copyright, 1930
by
THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING COMPANY

Printed in the United States of America
by
THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.
CLEVELAND, O.

In this third book about the Airplane Boys, they get a marvelous new plane, which they name the “Lark” and which takes them to new adventures and serves them to good purpose in many a narrow escape.

CONTENTS

I.
AFIRE!

“Humph! I wonder where in the name of pulverized pups that young Slick-and-Slippery took himself. He sure knew how to cover his trail up good and pronto.” It wasn’t the unseasonable weather that made Bob Caldwell shiver slightly as he glanced ahead at the deserted ranch which was rolling toward him. It was the recollection of that day, only a few months ago, when he had taken Sergeant Bradshaw and Allen Ruhel, the Canadian Royal Mounties, to identify the outlaws.

Staring at the empty ranch buildings, the boy experienced an uncanny feeling; it seemed to him that in the weeks which had elapsed since the Gordons, Senior and Junior, had been forced to vacate so hurriedly and abandon their schemes, that the huge property had become amazingly desolate. Drawing swiftly nearer he saw doors swinging disconsolately in the wind, and although he knew perfectly well that no such sound could reach his ears, he thought that even the strips of forest wailed dismally over their condition.

“Anyway,” he remarked with relief, “the old man is safely in prison, and I reckon that Arthur had aplenty of Texas, so we don’t have to worry about his turning up here again.” Curiosity prompted him to take the glasses and examine the vicinity more closely. The rambly old-fashioned house in which the father and son had made their home for three years, swayed slightly. Many of its windows were broken, sections of the roof sagged, and one corner of the veranda was separated from its supporting pillar. A small shed in the back had fallen in, the bunkhouse entrance was blocked with debris, the corral fences leaned wearily, and the tall cottonwood trees that had been decorative during the summer, were stripped of their biggest branches.

“Guess they didn’t do any more repairing than they had to while they lived there or it wouldn’t be tumbling apart now,” he suggested as an explanation. His eyes rested for a moment on the twisted bole of a gnarled oak and he thought he saw something move swiftly around its base, but he decided that it was probably a wild animal that had taken shelter there because of an instinctive confidence that its haunts would not be molested.

Caldwell had witnessed the ignominious capture of the older man and the unceremonious retreat of Arthur Junior, who had fled the country without stopping to lock the place or make provisions for the hundreds of head of stock which roamed the range. Humane ranchers had driven the cattle to shelter, and Bob knew that the sheriff or some of his assistants occasionally patroled the property on watch for signs of the return of young Gordon or any of his associates, but so far the place had been shunned by members of the gang as if it were plague stricken.

“At that, some of them might make it a hang-out as soon as they think people have forgotten or are too busy to keep an eye on it.” He noted the rugged cliffs which rose like irregular saw-teeth and curved around sharply, like a protecting elbow. “From the ground the place isn’t easy to reach without being observed. Well, what a nice little scare-cat I’m getting to be,” he upbraided himself as he resolutely put the glasses into their case and turned his attention to the business of flying.

Bob Caldwell was the younger member of the Flying Buddies and he was returning from a hop in Her Highness to Crofton where he had done errands for his mother and picked up the mail for the three adjoining ranches above the Gordon’s on Cap Rock; his own, the Cross-Bar on the Pearl River; the K-A which was the Austin’s and his home; and Don Haurea’s of the Box-Z. The recollection of the stirring events and the eerie atmosphere about the lonely ranch made him turn the plane’s nose toward the blue dome of northwestern Texas until its magnitude and beauty enabled him to dismiss the sense of impending danger.

“We are all as safe as if we were in church,” he grinned cheerfully, then, as the altitude meter read twenty thousand feet, he leveled off, and shot north. At the boy’s right stretched the seemingly endless miles of level plain under an almost unbroken expanse of pure white, while at his left below the great ledge lay miles and miles of sharp hills, narrow valleys, and in the distance the Pearl River bottom. Presently he saw the timber line bounding the south of the K-A.

“Good old ranch,” he chuckled. “And Jim, the blithering highbrow, is all healed up, thank goodness. He sure has deserted us for Don Haurea’s laboratories.” The boy gave the machine an affectionate tap but he felt no resentment over the new interests of his step-brother for he too was culling valuable information from that same source, only Bob was applying everything he learned to the immediate development of the Cross-Bar ranch. “She’ll be some producer by the time I’m twenty-one.” That happy date was five years off and he whistled gaily as his mind tried to visualize the achievements possible to accomplish during those years.

By this time Her Highness was soaring smoothly above the plain, and in the distance, so far north that he looked like an animated exclamation point as he skied on the surface of the frozen snow, Caldwell recognized the familiar figure of Jim Austin, his Flying Buddy and step-brother.

Austin’s bright red mackinaw and flapping scarf stood out a cheery patch of color against the whiteness that surrounded him, and by the swing of his body Caldwell knew that the older boy was making an effort to beat him home. With an exuberant whoop, the young pilot waggled Her Highness’ wings to let the challenger know that she accepted the dare, but she was a good sport, and although the distance she had to cover was four times as far as the skier’s, she proceeded to make her handicap greater, by executing a wide circle, zooming, banking and spiraling. Bob was having a perfectly gorgeous time in the sky, and although he looked forward to joining his Flying Buddy, he hated to come down. But as he sped along, he saw that Jim stood a fine chance of making good, so after treating himself to a final climb, he leveled off again, then with the throttle wide open, he started to dive.

Jim was so close now that Bob could see him quite plainly, and he watched for his brother to pause and admire the spectacle of the rushing plane as it cut through space at topmost speed. Suddenly Jim did stop, stare up, then he waved his arms. At first Bob interpreted the motions as a signal of recognized defeat, but after an instant the pilot realized that his step-brother was trying to make himself understood and he seemed rather frantic about it. He glanced swiftly about to be sure that another plane was not in the vicinity, and discovering none, he took a swift look at Her Highness. As far as he could see the little bus was O.K. and he wondered if she had dropped her landing gear, but just then his eyes rested on the mirror which reflected the rear, and he gave a startled gasp of incredulous amazement. There was a thick trail of smoke belching along the fuselage and to the boy’s horror he saw tongues of flame bursting almost to the forward cock-pit where he sat.

Mechanically he kicked the rubber, jammed the stick, fought with the controls, brought the nose up and reduced the speed. All the while his mind was busy in an effort to account for the fire, but he could find no explanation. Going more slowly the smoke no longer shot back, but began to hover forward, swirled about the cock-pit and smudged his glasses. Groping and straining at the safety strap, he shut off the motor, but it was evident that whatever caused the blaze was in the back, yet he knew there was nothing in the construction of the machine that could ignite in the rear.

According to the meter he was still seven thousand feet up, so he made a desperate effort to save the beloved plane but nothing he tried helped matters at all, and finally, with a sigh of regret, he released the strap, his fingers moved over the parachute buckles, then stopping to pick up the bag of mail and his glasses, he climbed over the rim of the cock-pit. One last glance back when the machine was two thousand feet up, the boy jumped, dropped like a plummet until he was clear, then he pulled the release and in a moment the chute blossomed above him and he began to drift easily. As the plane dropped swiftly past him it seemed to the boy as if all the joy of life was carried down to destruction in the crackling machine. He clenched his fists inside his fur mittens, gritted his teeth, then because he simply couldn’t bear to witness the complete annihilation of Her Highness, he closed his eyes and paid no attention to his own landing.

“Spill some of it, Buddy!” Jim called sharply. Bob glanced about, saw that he was drifting toward the jagged tips of underbrush protruding above the snow, so spilled enough air to drop him more directly. He could hear his step-brother’s racing skis as the older boy hurried to meet him. Then Jim caught him by the coat and helped the landing. “All right?” he asked anxiously peering into Caldwell’s face.

“Sure.” Bob was down now, and the pair of them hastened to get him freed from the chute.

“What happened to you? Who did you meet?” Jim asked quickly.

“I don’t know what happened and I didn’t meet anyone,” Bob answered emphatically. “Is there any chance of saving her?”

“No!” Silently they stood together as the hungry flames, like a pack of ravenous wolves, consumed the helpless plane.

“Gee,” Bob said finally then sank down and buried his head on his arm, while his body shook in a brave effort to keep back the sobs.

“Don’t take it so hard, Buddy,” Jim urged, but he wasn’t feeling any too good himself.

“Gosh, I—I couldn’t feel worse if it was one of the h—horses, or t—the dog. She—gosh, she was a dandy bird, Jim—nobody could ever have more fun than she gave us—it was more like having a good pal that you could always rely on, than just a machine,” Bob choked.

“I know it, old man. I’d mighty like to find out what started her cooking. Have any engine trouble?” Jim asked.

“Not a bit. She ran like velvet, was going great when I was diving. It wasn’t until I saw you doing a wind-mill with your arms that I thought of grief, then I had an idea it might be the landing gear I’d dropped and you wanted me to look out. I didn’t find anything wrong until I saw the smoke in the reflection mirror.”

“Come on over and we’ll see if we can discover anything.” They made their way in stunned silence, threw snow over the flames, and carefully examined all that was left of the little bus, but she was too far gone, or they were too inexperienced to locate treachery.

“When we get home, let’s look over the plans. Maybe we can find a spot—some place where it might have been weak—” Bob proposed.

“I don’t believe we will, but it won’t do any harm. Who did you see when you were in Crofton?”

“Bill, he was going home to lunch, the storekeepers and the postmaster. Just the usual crowd,” Bob answered.

“Where did you leave Her Highness while you did the errands?”

“In the freight yard where we always park. There wasn’t anyone hanging around and the gate was closed. I had to climb over. Did that because I didn’t want to call Bill back to open it,” Bob answered, then he added, ruefully, “You’ll think I’m a rotten pilot to let a thing like that happen—gosh—”

“Aw go on, you’re a corking good pilot. I’ve got a hunch that some sneak, maybe some of those fellows that were in that jam at Don Haurea’s last summer fixed it up so she’d burn slow and then get going good while you were in the air,” Jim explained.

“But how could anyone do that?” Bob demanded.

“You may investigate me, Buddy. Were any kids hanging around when you took off?”

“No. No one paid any attention to me. They don’t any more. It isn’t like it used to be. The people see one of us drop down five or six times a week, so the novelty has worn off. Why even Bill doesn’t come out any more and he used to run to meet us if we landed within sight of the place,” Bob reminded his step-brother.

“That’s so,” Jim nodded. “What you got in the bag?”

“Mail and stuff.”

“We better get home. You get on the back of the ski and we’ll slide, Buddy slide! It’s lucky we learned to do these things double. Someone at the house may have seen you drop and be worried to bits. Come along, Old Timer,” Jim urged. He went for the bag, tightened the straps of the ski, then Bob planted himself behind his step-brother, the bag in one hand and the other on the older boy’s shoulder, they got into step, and presently they were making good speed toward home. Jim was right in thinking that the blazing plane had been sighted, for they had not turned into the ranch road when they heard the jingle of bells as a team came dashing around the curve, the elder Austin standing in the bob-sled.

“What happened?” he shouted. “We saw Bob—”

“I’m all right, Dad,” Bob assured him, “but Her Highness went up in smoke, gosh—”

“So long as you didn’t go up with her, old man. Hop in here,” Mr. Austin urged. “Want to come with us, Jim?”

“I might as well,” Jim accepted. Presently the team dashed to the house, and on the long veranda, Mrs. Austin was waiting. She had taken only time enough to throw a heavy blanket shawl over her head, and when she saw the Flying Buddies, her eyes were filled with tears.

“Boys—”

“We’re top hole, both of us, Mom,” Bob called cheerily.

“I—I watched that plane—the smoke coming from the tail long before you started to dive—oh Bob—”

“Now, you knew I was wearing my trusty chute over me union suit,” he teased, but he put his arms around her and held her tight.

“Your union suit, how long since you—”

“Go on. Doesn’t a flying suit look like a step-in or a union suit?” Bob grinned as he led his mother into the house. The chore-boy took charge of the prancing team so Jim and his father followed.

“We have been lucky that the boys have not had an accident before, Mother, and really the danger, no matter what happens, isn’t very great when they have first-class chutes ready at a moment’s notice to land them safely. They both know enough to jump and keep out of difficulty,” Mr. Austin remarked quietly.

“To be sure, and me trusty side-kick was on the job with the elongated feet to bring me over the snow in fine style,” Bob laughed. They were in the living room now, both of them peeled down to ordinary clothes, and stood before her, a pair of fine looking tow-heads.

“What started the fire?” Mrs. Austin was not to be put off.

“As your devoted step-son so aptly puts it, you may investigate both of us, but I expect it was an exposed wire somewhere,” Bob answered, casually.

“Did you look to see?” she persisted.

“We did, but Her Highness was too hot to do much examining, and my breadbasket too empty for me to want to linger so far away from the commissary department, namely, the eats—is dinner almost ready?”

“It’ll be served in a few minutes. You hurry and get cleaned,” she urged, for the present need made her forget the past danger, which was exactly what her son was endeavoring to achieve.

During the evening meal the subject of the wrecked plane was studiously avoided but not because the boys did not feel the loss of Her Highness very deeply. Through their minds flashed snatches of memory that made it mighty difficult to laugh and joke with Mrs. Austin, but they kept the pretense up courageously. However, later that evening Jim and his father were in the ranchman’s office alone for a few minutes, then the boy’s shoulders slumped as he stared through the window toward the starry sky.

“It’s too bad, old chap,” Dad remarked thoughtfully. “Any idea how it happened? I don’t like to say much before Bob’s mother.”

“I don’t understand it, Dad. From what Bob says, she was working first class, every part of her, right up to the minute that he discovered she was ablaze. If a single part had gone wrong she would have showed it by the indicators or in the reaction of the controls. I do not believe that the Kid would have missed anything. Lots of times he’s quicker to locate pending grief than I am,” the boy replied softly.

“Have you any suspicions?”

“Not one. He said, that as far as he knows while she was parked in Crofton, no one came near her, and she flew like a charm all the way.”

“Sure there isn’t some technical solution to the mystery?”

“If there is, I don’t know it. I thought of writing to the manufacturers, and stating the facts, and see if they have any suggestions,” Jim answered.

“Could someone have put something inflammable somewhere around the tail assembly, something arranged to burn slowly?” the man suggested.

“I’ve thought of that, Dad. But there isn’t anyone in the state, outside of jail, who would be revengeful enough to do it. The men who were given the shortest sentences in that trial after the attack at Don Haurea’s last summer still have over a year to serve—none of them—that I know of—have been pardoned.”

“If any of them were I am sure the sheriff would have told us,” Mr. Austin volunteered.

“Yes, he would. It’s a cinch, Dad, that not more than one or two of that whole gang who were sent to prison know enough about airplanes and flying to set a trap that would go off like that. An amateur would have started the fire and let her go any old way. If the thing was a piece of treachery it was managed by an air man who didn’t take any chance of his plot being discovered too soon. I can’t figure out that anyone is guilty of such a mean trick, but I don’t know how else it could have been done.” With a sigh he turned back to the room and sat by his father’s desk.

“You are going to miss it a great deal.”

“Like fury. Dad, I want to get a job piloting, and save up for a new machine. Somehow, I can’t see how we can get along without a plane.”

“I will not agree to your giving up your studies, old man. The more you learn while you have the opportunity, the better off you will be later. I’m quite sure that mother will feel the same way about Bob. She has been most happy lately because of his interest in books.” The boy’s face drew down, but he tried to accept the verdict manfully. After a moment, he drew a deep breath.

“All right, Dad,” he agreed. His father smiled.

“Since you two came home this afternoon I have been doing some thinking on the subject. While we had Her Highness, we accepted her rather as a matter of course. One of you would go, at a moment’s notice on an errand which ordinarily would take several times the time it took to go by air.”

“Yes,” Jim nodded his head but he wasn’t following very closely. He was thinking that it would probably be months before he and his Flying Buddy went roaring into the sky again. It wasn’t easy to be cheerful.

“This winter has started out as if it is going to be a very hard one,” the man went on quietly.

“Yes, sir. It’s been a long time since we had so much snow,” Jim replied.

“Years. In fact, I don’t recall one like it since I was a boy, but seasons are always doing the unexpected.”

“Sure,” Jim replied as his father paused.

“To a stock man that means loss in straying cattle and horses. Young stock get lost, sometimes it takes cowboys weeks to locate them, and often only a few can be saved. That’s according to the old method. I’m going to miss getting the mail every day too. It’s quite a novelty reading the newspapers when they are not weeks old, especially in winter,” he rambled on.

“I’m sorry,” Jim said earnestly.

“We all are. It seems to me, Jim, that Bob’s idea of doing things in as advanced a method as possible is the greatest money saver we can invest in, so I think that for the present I shall purchase a new plane. It will not be quite such a splendid model as Her Highness, but it will help us out for the time being—”

“Dad!” Jim stared at his father, then he added weakly, “Even one of the cheaper ones cost quite a lot.”

“Don’t you think it will be a good investment?”

“Ha, ha,” Jim laughed. “Why Dad, I think it will be corking. We’ll save a lot of the stock and I’ll fly for your paper as soon as it’s off the press,” he promised eagerly.

“Then we—.”

“May we come in?” That was Mrs. Austin and she was followed by Bob, who dutifully held the door for her.

“You are always welcome.”

“I say, Jim, Mom says that Dad got Her Highness, so she wants to get us a new crate—”

“My dear, the boy told me he was going to get a job piloting for the winter—that would never do, and I should like to—you know, it’s been rather delightful—”

“Reading your newspaper before it gets old,” Jim interrupted with a wide grin. “That’s the same tune Dad sang to me, and he’s going to get a plane for the ranches—”

“Now—my dear—”

“It’s all settled, my dear,” Mr. Austin assured her. “We were just discussing the details, and we like our plan so well we do hope that you will not do anything to spoil it.” The two boys looked at the grown-ups, and chuckled.

“Tell you what, Jim, when the bus arrives let’s teach them to be a pair of flyers.”

“I believe it would be very interesting,” Mrs. Austin said quickly, but her husband looked grave.

“You’ll both be safe as in church,” Jim laughed heartily, then he and Bob executed an Indian dance about the parents until those worthies begged them to desist.

II.
TRACKS IN THE SNOW

The four days which followed the demise of Her Highness were sad ones and the whole family on the K-A ranch missed the convenience the little plane had afforded them. It seemed to the buddies that doing everything without the machine was far slower than they had ever realized, but they were both too busy to waste time in regret over the loss of their capable assistant. Then the morning of the fourth day brought the steady roar of an airplane as it beat its way swiftly down Cap Rock, lighting and sliding on a pair of runners until its pilot succeeded in bringing it to a halt.

“This the K-A?” he called to the choreboy who was racing to meet him.

“Yes, sir. Can you take the buggy around this way? Some horses are being hazed up the trail, they’ll be here any minute, and they may get scared of the machine,” he explained and his youthful eyes were eagerly taking in the lines of the new arrival.

“All right, old man, where had I better park?”

“Close to those trees, off the road.” The pilot lost no time in following directions and it was well that he did for he had barely left the vicinity when a bunch of young broncs came crashing through the woods, sending the snow flying in a thick screen all around them.

“Ki-yi. Ki-yi.” The air was filled with the musical cry, and the pilot, as soon as he again stopped his plane, climbed on top of it to watch the performance. He saw the broncs rear, kick, plunge and circle as they were being driven steadily forward, and the man could hear the creak of saddles, the jingle of bridles and crack of quirts as the cowboys dashed hither and yon to keep their charges from rushing off toward the enormous cliff which rose in a hundred-foot wall a quarter of a mile ahead. One young bay succeeded in breaking away. The pilot saw it thundering toward him; its eyes flaming, nostrils wide, and foam flecked about its mouth. The man was too startled and fascinated to realize his danger, then he heard another call.

“Ki—ki—ki.” A cowboy, looking for all the world as if he belonged in a wonderful tale of old-time west came racing after the truant, his pinto apparently requiring no guiding, and his hands busy with a long rope which was singing over his head. An instant later the cow-pony cut in front of the plane, the rope flashed out, its loop opened and dropped over the bay’s thrashing hoofs. As if the whole affair were one complete piece of perfect co-operation, the pinto braced its fore feet, the cowboy pulled back, and the runaway bay was secured.

“Bravo, bravo—what a circus!” The pilot yelled as lustily as a small boy in peanut row at a wild-west show, and then the cowboy glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh, hello,” he shouted. His eyes lighted happily at sight of the plane, but he couldn’t say anything more for the bronc was making a frantic effort to get free of the lariat and required his undivided attention. In a minute he was being hazed along with the bunch and finally all of them were milling around the huge corral, while the riders went about their various tasks. That accomplished, the pilot saw the pinto and its rider say something to another rider on another pinto, then the pair turned their horses’ heads toward the plane.

“By George,” the pilot exclaimed enthusiastically. “I didn’t suppose a man could see anything like that these days. It’s simply great!”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Bob answered. “The snow made the range a hard feeding ground, so we are bringing the stock in.”

“Keep them here all the rest of the winter?”

“Only a few that look as if they need extra care. We’ll give the others a week around here, then turn them loose,” Bob answered.

“It depends some on the weather,” Jim added, and then the pilot recognized the young fellow who had turned back the unruly bay. “Glad you got here so quickly with the new plane.”

“I’m glad that I didn’t miss the show. My name’s Kramer and I hope I get permission to hang around here a few days. If the fellow who is to pilot this machine is a crackerjack, my vacation is spoiled, but if he doesn’t know much about flying I can send word to the firm that I must stay to teach him.”

“Guess you’re here for a run,” Bob told him, “and you better get your message off as soon as you can. I’m the lad who has to fork the bird, and my side kick here. We both have a lot to learn. Last time I tried to do sky-riding I brought the machine down in flames.”

“Gee, that was tough luck,” Kramer said sympathetically. “I’ll like staying around and you can be sure I’ll do all I can to instruct you so nothing of the kind will happen again. You’re a pretty good sport, really, because very often when a man has an experience like that he gets air-shy—is off flying for the rest of his life.”

“We’ll appreciate your help. I watched the kid come down and it was no party. The bus looked like a Fourth of July rocket shooting the wrong way,” Jim announced. Then followed instructions and Kramer sized up his prospective students with real interest.

“You know, even if you did have an accident you look to me like the type who could be top-notch pilots if you don’t get discouraged, and after all, you are both young. In a few years, flying will be as ordinary as automobiles then you’ll be glad you took it up and stuck to it,” he told them earnestly.

“This looks like quite an air bucker,” Bob remarked as soberly as a judge. He urged the reluctant Tut close and his eyes traveled quickly over Her Highness’ successor.

“It’s a great machine. Perhaps you know that it’s a Pitcairn mailwing. They are used a lot as mail carriers, but airmen have become interested in them for sport use. It’s seven-cylinder, two hundred and twenty-five horse power. My boss said that Mr. Austin told him over the telephone that he wants a good serviceable plane for practical purposes. You could not get anything better than this. It’s got two cock-pits, that can be covered in bad weather and as soon as you learn more about flying, if it’s storming, you can shut yourselves up snug as a bug in a rug, and fly—”

“Flipping Flapjacks, you mean without looking at the ground?” Bob interrupted incredulously.

“Sure—positively,” Kramer answered emphatically.

“Here comes Dad,” Jim declared. “He’s the air-minded member of the family. When the other crate cracked up he got right in touch with your firm and ordered another. Said the K-A couldn’t get along without one. It’s a wonder to me he didn’t order a herd of them.”

“That goes to show you how really progressive he is. Why most men of his generation—a lot of them, anyway, think flying is all nonsense—”

“This is Mr. Kramer, Dad. We just told him we hope he can stay a while and give us instructions in flying.” Mr. Austin glanced questioningly at his son.

“Yes,” Bob added. “Kramer never saw a real ranch, except from the sky. He sat here and almost let the broncs jump over him. He likes horses.” Then Mr. Austin understood what was in the Flying Buddies’ minds so he nodded approval.

“It will give us a great deal of pleasure to have him stay as long as he can, and I am sure that your mother and I shall feel much more comfortable if we are confident that you have had thorough instructions. It seems to me that you boys are a little slow in bringing Mr. Kramer to the house. He has had a long trip, perhaps a hard one, and sitting here is cold work—”

“Oh, I was just telling them some things about the machine. My boss said that if this plane doesn’t suit you, we’ll send another model, sir, but from what you told him over the telephone, he thought this would be the best for your purpose,” Kramer said respectfully.

“The men of your firm must know a good machine,” Mr. Austin smiled.

“Absolutely—but the customer has to be satisfied. I don’t mind telling you that we all feel kind of cocky over a telephone order—”

“What’s the telephone for?” the older man asked.

“Oh, sure thing, it’s to save time and all that, but there aren’t many people who will buy a plane on short notice, why they want to see them all, read about them, listen to a man talk his head off, be taken up—”

“But my dear young man—it seems to me that when one wants a plane that is a great waste of energy to say nothing of time. Come in and meet Mrs. Austin and get rested.”

“I’ll take you up any time you can go,” Kramer offered.

“After lunch,” Jim answered.

After lunch the Sky Buddies listened with strained attention while Kramer conscientiously taught them the operation of the Pitcairn. The instructor carefully went from the propeller to the tail telling the name of every part and explaining each function in detail, while the boys listened with anxious frowns quite as if it were so much Greek to them. Finally Bob sighed heavily.

“One thing I like about a plane,” he announced.

“You’ll soon learn to like the whole bus,” Kramer smiled, “but what appeals to you particularly?”

“The tail. Dogs and horses have them and they are real understandable parts,” the boy replied soberly.

“Yes,” Jim added, “but a dog or a horse doesn’t have to have anyone work his tail for him. He manages his own rudder.”

“I expect you know dogs and horses better than I do airplanes,” Kramer laughed goodnaturedly. “Perhaps, while I’m here, you’ll give me a few lessons in managing them.”

“Sure,” Jim agreed heartily. “We’ll dress you up in a pair of slip-ins, and show you how to fork a bucker.”

“Guess I’d rather watch someone more experienced do that. I say, if you want to go anywhere, we might take a hop. Perhaps the first time up, I’d better do the piloting, but you can learn a lot—”

“Mom wants some pink crochet cotton. Let’s go to Crofton,” Bob proposed, then added quickly, “You take Jim in with you first. I’d kind of like to sit in the back with nothing to do.”

“That’s all right with me—”

“Why the heck can’t you let me take things easy?” Jim urged.

“Go on, you learn first. I have to get over being air-shy. Don’t want my insides doing a tail spin till they get kind of used to it.”

“It’s a good idea,” Kramer put in. “Sit in the back until we get to Crofton. It will restore your confidence. Perhaps on the return trip you can ride in front.”

“Wall—” Jim drawled. “Sure that’s pink crochet cotton?”

“Absolutely, I wrote it down.” Bob fished about in his pocket and found a scrap of wrapping paper. “Here it is. One skein of blue twist.”

“You were almost right, Buddy,” Kramer laughed heartily. “Anything else she wants while we are there?”

“The mail,” Jim answered.

“And the newspapers,” Bob grinned.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Presently the Pitcairn was soaring splendidly into the air, and in the front Jim eyed the controls. His fingers itched to take hold of them, but he braced himself and hooked his hands under his safety belt, while Kramer cheerfully did his piloting so the student could see every operation and analyze its purpose. Once in the air it wasn’t so simple keeping up the pretense of ignorance and twice Austin nearly gave himself away, but Kramer was so absorbed in his task that the slips were unnoticed. However, he did feel that he was making great progress with this youngster, but he rather anticipated a more difficult time when he took Bob in hand.

There wasn’t a single mishap during the trip, and finally, when they reached the little town, the pilot began to look about for the best place to land. With the blanket of snow on the ground visibility was hard, and Kramer circled over several sites before he finally turned to the boy.

“I’m looking for a place to come down,” he announced through the tube.

“The cattle pen by the freight yard. It’s been trampled,” Jim suggested and pointed to the triangular runway. It was smaller than Kramer wished and built on a steep incline, but he didn’t want the new owner to think the plane wouldn’t do all that was expected of her, so he started the descent and at last landed perfectly. Austin hid a smile of appreciation at the accomplishment, and nodded indifferently.

“I’ll get the yellow yarn—”

“Blue twist,” Kramer corrected quickly.

“Sure. You come along so I won’t get it wrong, and you can wire your firm from here, unless you did it at the house,” Bob proposed.

“It slipped my mind,” Kramer admitted.

“I’ll wait here,” Jim decided. He slid low in the cock-pit as soon as the pair were out of sight, and his mind was busy with the idea that someone—perhaps the lad who was responsible for the loss of Her Highness, might come nosing around. He wanted to give whoever it was plenty of opportunity to get close in case he was again in the vicinity. Austin kept perfectly quiet, his head well below the rim of the cock-pit.

He heard the jingle of bells as small sleighs slid by, the shout of neighborly greetings, an occasional automobile and the distant whine of a buzz-saw as it bit into huge logs, cutting them into cordwood. The boy was beginning to believe that his vigilance was to go unrewarded when he heard the thud of a pair of boots dropping with someone into the cattle enclosure; then came the cautious approach. They were coming to the plane, that was evident, and Jim got ready. Watching, with every muscle keyed to spring, he waited. There was a moment’s hesitation, whoever it was stopped under the wing, then a second later a hand rested within a few inches of his face. He swung up with all his strength, caught the wrist firmly and yanked. At that there was a scraping, then the business end of a six-shooter was pointed into his face, and simultaneously he leaped up with a yell.

“What—” He stopped short and stared in startled amazement.

“Oh, that you, Austin?” The gun was slipped back to its holster.

“Sure, Sheriff.” Jim was too astounded to say anything more.

“I calculated I’d find you here, and I’m right glad you dropped in to town today because I’m going to ask you to help me.”

“I’ll do anything I can,” Jim assured him.

“Wall, it’s this way. You know we’ve been keeping the Gordon place under observation. Got a deputy there most of the time. Maybe he’s getting nutty, I don’t know, he’s alone and there’s a sort of sameness to this here snow. He reported a couple of days ago that he thought someone was hanging out up there but he hasn’t been able to fetch up with whoever it is and he ain’t seen no tracks. I ain’t had a minute to go and look myself, and I ain’t got no one to send right now. He put in a call ’bout noon time. Said he’s seen some tracks, they look like a bear’s.”

“There are no bears out this time of year,” Jim reminded him.

“I told him the old fellows has crawled in and pulled their holes after ’em, but he says it’s a big bear track plain as can be and it’s round the ranch house.”

“What can we do for you?”

“Wish you’d stop on your way home and see what the heck’s eatin’ the feller. It’s Carl Summers—reckon you know him.”

“Yes, sure I know Carl,” Jim replied.

“He’s needin’ a job, and I’se needin’ a watchman, sort of, so I swore him in. He rigged up a contraption—taps the wire and that’s the way he reports every day to me,” the sheriff explained.

“Couldn’t he follow the tracks and see where they lead?” Jim asked.

“That’s the goldurnest part of it. They only lead ’round in a circle. Ain’t no entrance or exit, as it were. He can’t find no place where they start or stop.”

“That is odd. What do you want us to do?”

“See what Carl has to show you and hear what he has to say. If he seems kind o’ sick, take him to your house en fetch the doctor, or if he’s all right, you get in touch with me. If you take him home, ask your pa if he can spare a man to kind o’ keep his eye on the place for a couple o’ days till I can get someone else. I got a bee in my bonnet that young Gordon will land back there one o’ these days, and I’m aimin’ to catch him when he does.”

“We’ll be glad to stop and have a talk with him. I can telephone you from there if it’s anything serious,” Jim agreed.

“That’s fine. I knew I’d find you here soon’s I saw Bob swinging up the street. Watched you the other day when the kid came down and you were loafing here—” He broke off suddenly, and frowned. “Why the name o’ hen’s teeth did you make such a grab at me? Boy, you might o’ got a whole round of lead in you and I’d had a fierce time apologizing to your folks.”

“I was watching for a sneak—”

“Think you caught him?”

“Oh, no, I know I haven’t—but say, what did you mean when you said that you saw me in the cock-pit the other day?” Jim asked.

“Saw you from my window up there. That is, I happened to look out and discovered the plane parked in the freight yard and you fussing away in the back seat.”

“I didn’t come with Bob the other day,” Jim told him.

“You didn’t come—why I saw you as plain—”

“My face?” Jim was excited. He hoped the sheriff could describe the fellow who was responsible for the loss of Her Highness.

“Wall no, can’t say that I did. Saw the top of that helmet and as I know there are only two Flyin’ Buddies in these parts, I reckoned it was you,” the man answered, and Austin was most disappointed.

“It wasn’t, and great guns I wish you’d come over then,” he said with a sigh. He went on and explained about the burning of the plane and the sheriff scowled.

“Thunderation, that ain’t lookin’ too good.” He took off his hat and scratched his head. “You-all got a hunch that plane’s death—as it were—wasn’t due to no natural causes?”

“That’s the way it looks.”

“All them guys that might be sore on you because of last summer at the Don’s place is working off their grudge in jail—that is—let me see, Gordon got away—the young feller I mean, en the chauffeur chap. Humph. Maybe Carl ain’t so loony. You can shoot?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe it’s mighty important that someone get up there to Carl fast as he can get. You take a set o’ irons—I’ll get ’em—one for you and one for Bob—”

“There’s another chap with us—name’s Kramer—he came with the new plane. I don’t know if he can shoot or not—”

“I’ll get three.” The man hurried off and while he was gone, Bob and the instructor returned with an arm full of mail.

“Get that red—”

“Blue,” Kramer corrected with a laugh.

“We have to do an errand for the sheriff.” By the time the officer had returned, Jim had given his companions details of what was required and they both looked rather sober at the task before them.

“You boys know that Gordon—if you see him don’t take no chances. I’m gettin’ a gang together, and we’ll follow pronto—fast as the automobile can bring us.”

“We could take you along now,” Kramer suggested.

“I can’t leave the office for half an hour. Got something needs my attention here and it’s almost as important as gettin’ Gordon. Do you swear to do your duty as officers of the law and upholders of the Constitution of the United States? That ain’t real regular, but you know what it means.”

“I do,” came from three throats. Then they climbed into the cock-pits.

III.
PIGEON JUTE

“Hit her up, loop the sun,” Bob called as he climbed into the rear cock-pit. Kramer let the motor run for a moment, then managed to smile at her performance.

“That’s a motor what motes,” he announced. Soon they took off and they looked most war-like with the sheriff’s artillery added to their equipment. Through the minds of the Sky Buddies raced a varied assortment of possibilities regarding what they would find when they came down on the Gordon ranch. Jim rather wished that Bob was not along for if either young Arthur or any of his former associates were there no one would anticipate how much trouble awaited them. Although there was only a few months difference in their ages, Austin felt years older and was anxious that the younger boy be kept out of danger. He recalled the scheme the two Gordons had concocted and nearly brought to perfection at Don Haurea’s ranch a few months ago. While Caldwell had not been hurt physically the horror of what he had witnessed had almost taken the fun out of him.

In the back seat Bob too was thinking of that day. Through his brain flashed the vision of his step-brother lying wounded and bleeding on the steps of the Bar-Z ranch house. It wasn’t a picture a fellow could shake off easily and he was wishing that Jim was not going to be in this, whatever was ahead of them. To be sure, under the splendid care of the medical men and surgeons of the Don’s people, his Buddy had healed and recovered with remarkable speed, but just the same being a target was a hazardous business and one couldn’t expect to get off so easily very often. He whistled softly and determined that he would keep his eyes open and if possible shove Austin into the background. The plan looked good to the boy, and then he thought of something which seemed even better. When they came down he’d suggest that his step-brother fly on home and explain the matter to his father who could get a number of the men on the K-A together and join the deputies at the lower ranch. That was a great idea, and an even better one was to propose that Jim get in touch with Don Haurea. From this highly capable man’s laboratories something very effective could be accomplished. Bob had no thought of what the Box-Z owner would do, but since the difficulties of the summer he too had paid a visit to the subterranean department and had seen the workings of the super-television-radio. It was an awe-inspiring place and the young fellow knew that the proposal of getting in touch with its head would appeal strongly to his step-brother.

By this time the rugged peaks of lower Cap Rock were rolling swiftly toward them, and presently the buddies from their separate points of observation were examining the ranch through the glasses. Finally Jim located Carl Summers sitting on a projecting ledge from which he could keep a watchful eye on his territory. It struck the boy that the young deputy appeared very unconcerned. He had expected to discover Carl crouched in some out-of-the-way corner where he could not be taken by surprise, and surrounded with a battery of artillery. Touching Kramer on the shoulder, Jim pointed out the ledge where he had landed with Her Highness the day Lilly Boome and Ollie had inveigled him to give them a lift from Laville. Three minutes later the Pitcairn lighted perfectly on the strip of table rock, and Bob, eager to put his plan into operation, called:

“I say, Jim, I’ve got an idea!”

“Take off your hat and let your head cool,” Jim advised. The younger boy got out of the cock-pit with all possible speed and was standing by the forward door before it could be opened. Austin grinned at him cheerfully.

“I don’t need to, you nut. Listen, Old Timer, you fly on to the K-A and tell Dad what’s doing, then telephone Don Haurea. I bet a thin dime against the State of Texas that he’ll be able to do something worth while from his place—”

“But your brother can’t fly well enough yet!” Kramer interrupted.

“Say, you sent that wire to your firm, didn’t you, that you are going to stay here?” Bob demanded.

“Yes, but what’s that got to do with it?”

“Nothing much, old man, but the Buddy and I know a lot more than you would suspect about airplanes. We’ll give you a demonstration when we’re not too busy. It’s this way, we thought you looked like a deserving lad, and we were sorry for anyone who never got real close to a good horse, so, when you said that your firm would give you permission to stay a while, we wanted to help you—we’re a pair of regular little helpfuls—ask our folks.”

“I’ll tell the world you are. Think I’m going to hang around here to teach you something you know? I’m not lying to my firm—”

“Gosh,” Bob’s face flushed. “That’s right, I didn’t think of it—you couldn’t do that—” then he grinned—“but, look here, if you do like Texas and horses and dogs—and us—I’ll bet you could sell a couple of planes to some of the ranchers. We’ll introduce you around—”

“I’ll bet the sheriff would buy one,” Jim added. Then the frown disappeared from Kramer’s face and he too grinned.

“Now you are talking. I’ll get in touch with the firm and see what my boss thinks. Much obliged, Buddy, for the tip, and much obliged too for the desire to give me a good time.” He held out his hand and Caldwell gripped it firmly in his own.

“Now that’s settled,” Jim put in—“the sheriff said that Summers has an instrument here and he has tapped the telephone wires. Your idea of getting in touch with Dad and the Don is great, I’ll do it by phone.”

“Oh—yes, sure you can do that.” Bob’s face fell and he sighed as he saw how quickly his perfectly good plan to get Austin away from the danger zone vanished into thin air. “Sure, you can do that and it will save time, too.”

“Hello there!” Carl Summers, who was a stocky little Texan, came swinging carelessly up the winding trail, his face wreathed in smiles.

“Hello yourself. We were at Crofton and the sheriff asked us to drop in and see how things are,” Jim explained.

“That’s fine. For a couple of days I sure have been doing some tall figuring without getting an answer. Guess I was sort of hipped with the snow and the emptiness of this place, but I wasn’t all goofy,” he said.

“Did you find anything?” Jim asked. He and Kramer were out of the cock-pit ready to listen to the story, whatever it was.

“Yes, a spell ago. I’ve been feeling that I wasn’t alone on this ranch and it got me worried, not because I was afraid, but because I couldn’t come up with anyone. The first time was at night, I was asleep in a bunk I fixed myself in the old root house, that dugout, and I awoke thinking I heard prowlers. I couldn’t find anything, but dozens of times since then I was sure I was being trailed; then I found those bear tracks and I know bears are enjoying a siesta this time of year, but they were tracks and they went around in a circle. It didn’t make me feel too good trying to figure what made ’em.”

“It must have made you anxious,” Kramer remarked.

“Surely did, brother. I reported to the sheriff and he promised to get someone here as fast as he could, and he told me to keep watch. Now, you two know bear tracks, just for fun come and look at this set and see if you can tell what made them and where the animal came from or went,” he proposed.

“Lead on, McDuff,” Kramer invited.

“You got my name wrong, buddy, it’s Summers—”

“I know, but that’s just a quotation,” Kramer hastened to explain.

“He wants you to show us,” Bob added.

“Oh, I see, he’s from Missouri. Well, come along.”

“Do we need the battery?” Kramer asked. He didn’t like toting a gun and seeing the two in the boys’ belts made him feel uncomfortable.

“We’ve got them on, and we might as well keep them,” Jim answered cautiously.

“Bring it with you, it will make you feel more as if you are in the woolly west,” Bob put in quickly. Both he and Jim were sure that leaving them behind would be foolish, and although all thought of danger had been effectively dispelled by Summers, they were not taking needless chances, at least until the ranch guardian had absolutely convinced them.

Carl made his way back down the slippery trail while the three followed single file. The descent was about a hundred feet and at the bottom they started to walk easily on the thick crust across a couple of acres of open space, then they reached the back of a row of sheds which had been used for machinery, tools, and also a smithy and general catch-all. Summers removed a loose board so they went through, and then proceeded by a winding way past the numerous ranch buildings until they came to the further end where the deserted home had been erected. There were a few scrub trees around it, their branches poking up through the snow, and here and there were layers of soft snow that had not frozen because it had been jarred from the branches or blown from near-by roofs.

“Here you are.” Summers stopped at the edge of a clear spot on the far side of the house, which was less exposed than the front, and protected from the colder winds by the elbow of the cliff. The three looked down quickly, and sure enough, they saw a set of tracks that must have been made by some large animal. It looked as if the beast had made the circuit twice, for most of the imprints were irregular, but many of them were distinct enough to show their form.

“I pass, what’s the joke?” Kramer asked.

“They do look a little like a bear,” Bob hesitated, and a moment later Jim turned to their guide.

“Is it someone who has his feet wound up?” he asked.

“You go to the head, that’s it,” Carl grinned. “Reckon if I hadn’t been so blamed scary I’d a thought of it myself.”

“Whose tracks are they?” Bob demanded.

“And why do they go around in a circle?” inquired Jim.

“Come along and see the rest of the exhibit,” Carl invited.

They followed him to the root cellar, which, as they approached, looked like a long high mound of snow. At the further side, they saw the entrance, a short steep incline, with a heavy, old fashioned cellar door that fitted into a frame which was level with the ground. This opening was thrown back, so the three stepped down, Carl pulled another heavy door, and instantly the odor of a miscellaneous collection of vegetables which had been stored there for years, came to their nostrils. Coming, as they did, from the glaring white of the world outside, everything looked pitch black, but in a moment their eyes were adjusted to the change and they saw a long room with a sloping roof. Two lighted lanterns were suspended from the huge beams overhead. A rough attempt had been made at furnishing. There was an army cot in one corner, some bright blankets draped the walls, and the earth floor was almost concealed under a collection of dressed hides. A couple of home-made chairs and a table completed the items.

“Some palatial house. Where did you get this stuff?” Bob asked.

“Mostly from the bunkhouse,” Carl answered.

“What’s beyond that?” Kramer wanted to know. He nodded toward the further end where he saw a partition of wide planks.

“Just another hole. I went in to see. These root houses used to be divided off. When I was a kid I played here one day, and explored this place. My dad said that the first hole was small, but every year a new section was added to hold more, and some of them were used in hot weather to keep things cool,” Summers explained.

“Great idea—”

“Who’s this?” Kramer asked, as he jumped back quickly.

“Pigeon Jute. You boys know him,” Carl chuckled. A tall slender Indian, wrapped in a grey blanket, had risen from the cot and stood staring at them gravely.

“Why sure we know him,” Jim laughed. “Haven’t seen you for a long time, Jute. How’re the pigeons?”

“Heap good,” the Indian grunted.

“When I first knew him he was trying to get a breed of birds that would be world beaters on long distance,” Jim explained.

“How did you make out, Jute?” Bob asked goodnaturedly, but the Indian merely grunted and shrugged.

“Real loquacious, isn’t he?” Kramer remarked softly, but he did feel as if he were getting a taste of the ancient west he had read of when he was a youngster.

“He’s all right. When I was a little kid he used to do things for my mother and he made enough bows and arrows to destroy an army,” Bob declared. He was genuinely glad to see his old friend.

“I suppose you made the tracks,” Jim laughed. “You thought you would have some fun with Carl so you hopped out of a tree, or started them by jumping from where the ice is clean.”

“Jumped!” came the brief explanation.

“So that finishes the mystery,” Bob sighed with relief.

“Surely does. He showed up today and wanted something to eat. I was as glad to see him as if he were a bouquet of spring flowers,” Carl assured them.

“I should have wanted to punch his jaw,” Kramer laughed.

“You wouldn’t if you hadn’t seen a human being for two weeks, besides, I’ve got a sense of humor,” Summers answered.

“We’ve brightened your day a lot, old man, but we’ve got to breeze along. Does the sheriff know what the answer is?” Jim asked.

“Yes. I just caught him when he was ready to start up here, so he called off the Reserves and went back to work. Much obliged to you all for dropping in and I hope you do it again.”

“Maybe it’s just as well if we stay on our side of the line a while longer, but you have skis, slide up and pay us a visit when things get too dull. You ought to rig up a radio; that would keep you in touch with a lot of fun,” Jim suggested.

“I’ve been building one, want to see it?”

“We’d better not linger any longer, it’s getting late,” Bob urged. Now that the mystery was solved he began to feel that he and Jim couldn’t get away from the place any too quickly, besides the short day was coming to a close and it would soon be dark. The Indian followed them outside, and strolled off unceremoniously.

“He’s got some traps set in the cliffs,” Carl explained. They watched the tall grey figure striding over the snow almost as swiftly as if he were on snowshoes, and soon he was lost from sight. He stepped so lightly that he didn’t leave an imprint.

“How do you like being a ranch nurse?” Bob asked, just to make conversation as they hurried along.

“It hasn’t been so inter—” He stopped short in his answer, and for an instant the four of them stood in startled silence. To their strained ears came an unmistakable rumble.

“Is it a plane?” Jim asked softly, but he knew it wasn’t. The words were hardly out of his mouth before the rumble grew into a thunderous roar, the earth under their feet rocked as if it had a convulsion; there was a terrific boom, followed in quick succession by three more violent explosions which threw all four of them on their faces. Kramer struck an icy spot and slid twenty feet. The land behind them ripped open, a sheet of flame and smoke belched forth, carrying huge rocks, hunks of earth and ice which flew high, wide and handsome, then began to shower as far as the cliffs.

“Come on,” Bob gasped. He caught Jim’s collar and the two struggled to their feet. Carl was lying motionless some distance away, and Kramer was rolling as hard as he could roll toward the row of sheds.

“We’ll get Summers,” Jim snapped. Bending low, the Buddies raced to the prostrate guardian of the ranch, each grabbed him and then hauled him along with them toward safety. One lump of debris struck Bob’s hand a hard crack, forcing him to let go, but Jim dragged harder and after a breathless stampede, the three at last reached the open door of the shed where Kramer was picking himself up gingerly.

“Don’t go in there,” Jim shouted. “It may come down.” He thought it was safer to trust themselves to the rain of missiles than to a building which might also be destroyed and crush them under its weight. By that time Carl was gaining consciousness and he jerked himself to his feet.

“What’s the mat—”