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Chapter XIV
UP AGAINST IT
It was finally decided that Dorothy and Bill should make a series of circular patrols, centering above New Canaan.
“We’ll each take a plane,” said Bill, “and keep each other in sight.”
“What’s the use of doing that?” Dorothy asked. “Why not make the patrols separately? When I come down, you go up. In that way we can stay in the air twice as long on the same amount of gas, and take a rest once in a while.”
“Too risky. These smugglers are desperate. We’ve already thrown a good-sized monkey-wrench into the works of their organization. That Mystery Plane is quite likely to pack along a machine gun – and use it if the pilot finds out we’re trying to follow him.”
“Are we going up unarmed?”
“You are – but I’m not.”
Dorothy raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Well, that’s nice of you!”
“Look here, young lady,” cut in her father. “I don’t know what Bill’s plans are, but if you’re going on these patrols, just remember that he is the captain of the outfit and must have obedience. Otherwise, I’ll not consent to your going at all.”
“Oh, I’ll be good, Daddy. But I do think – ”
“But you mustn’t! Your job is to do what you’re told and let your captain do the thinking.”
“You see, Dorothy,” explained Bill, “in order to use a gun in the air, a pilot must have training and practice. Otherwise, all you do is to draw the enemy’s fire. If we meet up with this bird you’ll have plenty to keep you busy – a very important part to play. But if there’s any gunning to be done, I’ll do it. Before we go up, I’ll outline exactly what we’re to do in the event we sight the gang’s airplane.”
Dorothy got out of her chair.
“How about getting busy, then?” she suggested. “The longer we’re up, the more we are likely to accomplish.”
“Hold your horses,” laughed Bill. “Don’t think for a minute we’re going to patrol all day long.”
“Why not?”
“Waste of time.”
Dorothy plumped herself down in her chair again.
“Oh, all right. Have it your way. Personally, I can’t see doing a thing at all, unless one does it properly. You and your plans make me tired.”
“Don’t get peeved,” he bantered. “These won’t be endurance flights.”
“They won’t be anything at all unless we find that plane and you can’t expect it to take the air just when you want it to!”
“Stop quarreling, children,” admonished her father. “Bill knows what he is talking about.”
“Well, maybe he does. He can catch the old plane by himself. I’m through.”
“What you need is another nap, young lady. You’re tired and cross.”
“I’m not. Men always club together.”
“And what can a poor girl do?” supplemented Bill with a grin.
“Stop teasing, Bill!” commanded Mr. Bolton. “Apologize to Dorothy and tell her why you mean to take short hops. I can’t see the sense in such procedure myself – any more than she can. And just remember that an overdose of excitement puts anybody’s nerves on edge. She’s been through a lot more than you have during the last few days.”
At his father’s words, Bill’s face wore such a look of honest contrition, that Dorothy’s conscience smote her. They both began to speak at once.
“Gee, I’m sorry, Dorothy – ”
“I’m an idiot, Bill – ”
They burst into laughter simultaneously.
“Now we can get on with our discussion,” smiled Dorothy. “Go ahead, Bill.”
“Well, the smuggler’s pilot has been taking most of his flights – or I ought to say, the flights we know about – during the late afternoon. I haven’t the slightest glimmer why he chooses to fly at that time. But, as I see it, if he has done it day after day in the past, the chances are he’ll continue to leave his hangar at about the same time. My plan is for us to take off at about four each afternoon. We can remain in the air until six. If he comes from around here, we’d catch him shortly after he takes the air. That’s how I figure it.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Dorothy was still unconvinced. “But how about the warning we got a little while ago?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Well, we hadn’t had lunch yet – he dropped the message from his plane in the morning – not during the late afternoon!”
Bill yawned unblushingly and got to his feet.
“Cuts no ice,” he asserted. “That wasn’t a regular hop.”
“What then?” This from Mr. Dixon.
“A grandstand play, pure and simple. Those lads haven’t the brains I gave them credit for, if they really think they can steer us off with tripe like that!”
Mr. Bolton ground the butt of his cigar on an ashtray, and rose.
“Perhaps that wasn’t the idea,” he suggested.
Three heads were turned sharply toward him.
“What do you mean, Bolton?” asked Mr. Dixon.
“A come-on,” returned his neighbor.
“A come-on?” echoed Dorothy in a puzzled voice.
“Just that – nothing more nor less.”
“I get you,” Bill nodded. “Get us in the air, by that teaser – rely on us to go after the Mystery Plane as a matter of pride – and then fill us full of machine gun bullets. If they start anything like that – well – two can play the game and if that lad with the beard can’t shoot any better than he handled his plane when he zoomed the house just now – it is, as the French say, ‘to laugh’!”
“That’s all very well,” argued Mr. Dixon. “I don’t mind Dorothy flying, but I do draw the line at machine guns. That’s no game for girls. You keep your two feet on solid earth until this business is over, my dear.”
“Oh, Daddy!” Dorothy’s voice was full of disgust.
“Sorry, daughter, but I simply can’t let you take the risk.”
Mr. Bolton placed his hand on his friend’s arm.
“You know, I don’t think that Bill would have countenanced Dorothy’s going on patrols with him unless he felt assured she would run no danger. How about it, son?”
“If she does get into trouble, it won’t be with my consent,” he smiled. “But seriously, sir,” he turned to Mr. Dixon. “There will be a minimum of danger if Dorothy does as I tell her. In the first place, machine gun fire in the air is not nearly so potent as it is on terra firma. Try and hit a small object flashing by when you’re traveling like a bat out of – ahem! – Harlem. Try it and see how many planes you don’t hit! And in the second place, that bearded guy won’t get a chance to turn his gun in her direction.”
“Well, I’m no flyer and I haven’t the slightest idea of the technicalities that must arise in aerial combat work,” Mr. Dixon made this statement slowly and thoughtfully, “but still – ”
“Daddy, don’t be ridic.” Dorothy’s tone was tolerantly amused.
“Do you really think I’m foolish, my dear child?”
“Oh, pigheaded is a better word, at times, if you insist on the truth!”
All four burst into roars of mirth.
“That’s one from the shoulder, Mr. Dixon,” choked Bill. “You’d better go the whole hog, now she’s a licensed pilot!”
Dorothy’s father shook his head in pretended sorrow. “You’re all against me, that’s obvious. And there’s much too much pig in this conversation to suit a conservative parent.” He threw an affectionate glance at Dorothy. “Ever since this tomboy daughter of mine was able to grip my finger when I leaned over her crib, she has pulled her old Dad hither and yon to suit her fancy. So I suppose I’ll have to give in again – acknowledge I’m wrong, and so forth. Run along, children, and see to it your airships are in apple-pie order.”
“You’re a darling!” His daughter bestowed a hearty kiss upon his left ear.
“Beat it – you scamp!” Mr. Dixon’s voice was gruff, though his eyes sparkled with merriment. “If you bother me much longer, it will be lunch time before I get down to the bank – and I’m likely to change my mind. Shoo!”
“Ogre – I defy you!” With a laugh, she beckoned to Bill and ran down the steps.
“Well, what shall it be?” she inquired when he joined her. “Your ship or mine, first?”
“Mine, I think. None of the three has been off the apron of the hangar since I left for Europe. Frank has been looking after them. He’s a great old feller, you know. When we brought him back from New York he didn’t know a fork from a gadget. Now he’s chauffeur, general factotem around the house, and practical mechanic for me. He knows his job all right, but my boats will need more overhauling than yours.”
“Which plane shall you use for this work?”
“The Ryan M-l, that the bank gave me after that Martinelli business. She certainly is a smart little bus – can fly rings around anything in this neck of the woods. Hello – ” he broke off as they came down the drive, “somebody’s had a breakdown.”
Drawn up at the side of the ridge road stood a green coupe of the type motor car manufacturers advertise as “de luxe model.” As they came in sight, a young man crawled out from beneath the body.
“Why, that’s Mr. Tracey,” said Dorothy. “Do you know him?”
“Yes, I met him at Mr. Holloway’s house one night. Isn’t he the old boy’s secretary?”
“Yes, he is. He’s quite nice. Dad sees a lot of Mr. Holloway, you know.”
The secretary, tall and sleekly blond, was looking ruefully down at his grey flannel trousers, now streaked with the dirt of the roadway.
“Good morning, Miss Dorothy,” he greeted, clipping his words in a precise manner. “Afraid I’m not exactly presentable.” Then for the first time, he appeared to notice Bill. “Hello, Bolton,” he said affably. “You’re quite a stranger around here.”
“Got back a couple of days ago,” returned Bill casually. “Need any help?”
“Thanks, no. Loose nut, that’s all.” He patted his monkey wrench with a grimy hand. “This fixed her. Doing much flying, Miss Dorothy?”
“Yes, I go up quite often. Bill taught me, you know.”
“Yes, I remember. I’d like to take lessons, myself. How about giving me instruction – that is, if you’re not too expensive?”
“I’m really not in the business,” parried Bill. “You’d do much better at one of the schools. Glad to give you a hop, though, if you’d like to go up?”
“Thanks so much. I’ll be glad to take advantage of your offer. What about this afternoon? It’s a perfectly lovely day.”
“Sorry, but today I’m overhauling my planes. Been away some time, you see. I’ll probably take them up on tests about four. But of course I don’t want the responsibility of a passenger until I know they are running O.K.”
Mr. Tracey nodded and got into his car.
“I understand perfectly. Thanks for the invitation, though. I’ll give you a ring later in the week and allow myself the pleasure of going up with you. Goodbye. Goodbye, Miss Dorothy.”
With a wave of his hand the car moved off and Dorothy turned to Bill.
“Why did you tell him you were going to take the air about four?” she asked.
“Because if the smuggling gang know what I’m going to do it will save time if we pull off our little scrap this afternoon.”
Before this admission Dorothy had looked puzzled. Now her eyebrows went up in startled astonishment.
“Good Heavens, Bill! You surely don’t think that Mr. Tracey has anything to do with that! He’s as prim and prissy as a pussy-cat!”
“Just my opinion. Of course he knows nothing about the diamonds. But your prissy boy friend has the reputation of being the worst gossip in New Canaan. When he takes those gray bags of his to be cleaned, it will be all over the village that Bill Bolton is back and intends to test out his planes late this afternoon. – And that is just what I want.”
“Oh, I see,” Dorothy nodded thoughtfully. “But I’ll tell you one thing. If we are going up today, it’s high time we quit talking and got busy on the planes.”
With four airplanes to groom, the next few hours proved busy ones for both Dorothy and Bill. But by four o’clock everything was ready for their flight.
“Got your instructions down pat?” he inquired as Dorothy got aboard the Will-o’-the-Wisp. The airplane was resting on the concrete apron of the Dixons’ hangar, preparatory to the take off.
“Know them backwards,” she flashed with a smile.
“Good luck, then.”
“Good luck to you, Bill.”
He stepped swiftly to one side as she switched on the ignition. For a moment or two he stood there watching her amphibian taxi away from the hangar, gathering speed as it went. Then when the wheels left the ground and the big bird of wood and metal soared upward, he turned away and made off in the direction of his father’s property.
As Will-o’-the-Wisp climbed in great widening circles, Dorothy at the controls knew she had plenty of time to gain the position agreed upon before Bill could get under way. The air was smooth and still, without the slightest breath of disturbing wind. Perfect flying weather and wonderful visibility with a clear blue horizon unmarred by the smallest shred of cloud.
The Boltons had turned the ten-acre pasture behind their house into a level flying field. The old hay barn had been enlarged, partitions removed and a concrete floor laid. It now made a large roomy hangar, for their three planes.
Looking down as she kept on circling higher and higher, Dorothy saw Bill cross the ridge road and appear a moment or two later on his own flying field. She watched him hurry down to the hangar and could see Frank busy about the Ryan before its open doors. Then she saw Bill get aboard. When she looked again, his small monoplane was already in the air.
By this time the indicator on Will-o’-the-Wisp’s altimeter marked a height of between eight and nine thousand feet. According to instructions, Dorothy leveled off and bringing right rudder and right aileron simultaneously into play, she sent the plane into a wide circular turn. Far below, the Ryan was pursuing the same tactics, so that both planes were cruising over the township of New Canaan.
Dorothy and Bill continued to maintain the same relative positions for the next fifteen or twenty minutes. Then as Will-o’-the-Wisp swung round toward the west, Dorothy spied a third plane, streaking toward New Canaan at an altitude of some three thousand feet.
The fact that Bill had also spotted the intruder was evident, for he began to climb.
“Bill’s advertising plan worked,” muttered Dorothy with satisfaction. “If that amphibian over there isn’t the Mystery Plane, I’ll eat my ailerons!”
Chapter XV
RUN TO COVER
Dorothy reached beneath her seat, brought forth a pair of field-glasses and clapped them to her goggles. Focussed through the powerful lenses, there was no mistaking the Mystery Plane. And although at this distance it was impossible to see the pilot’s face, she could plainly distinguish the barrel of a machine gun that poked its wicked muzzle over the cockpit’s cowling.
“So the bearded aviator means mischief!” She returned the glasses to their case. “That guy must be a cold-blooded dog to try anything like that over a populated township. He’s likely to bite off more than he can chew if Bill and I have any luck. If he cracks up, I shan’t weep.”
At first sight of the smuggler’s plane, she brought Will-o’-the-Wisp back on an even keel, but now in order to get an unimpeded view directly below, she sent the plane into a steep bank.
Bill, in the Ryan, with an altitude of some twenty-five hundred feet and its nose slightly raised was streaking toward the smuggler.
Most air battles are fought in the higher ether, because combat flying often necessitates acrobatics and the ordinary pilot wants plenty of air below for such work. The smuggler being the aggressor in this case, naturally started to climb when he spotted the Ryan. He hoped, no doubt, not only to increase his altitude but to gain greater ascendency over Bill before diving at the monoplane with his machine gun going full blast.
It was time for Dorothy to act. As the smuggler’s plane began to ascend, she sent her amphibian diving toward him at a tremendous spurt of speed. The Mystery Plane nosed over and dove in turn at the Ryan, some five hundred feet below.
“Ha-ha!” Dorothy shut off her motor and brought Will-o’-the-Wisp’s nose gradually back to the horizontal. “Our scheme worked! That bird either doesn’t know his business or he’s lost his nerve!”
A fighting plane attacking has as its objective a position directly behind the hostile plane at close range. A position either above or below the tail is equally good. From these positions the enemy is directly in the line of fire, and in sighting no deflection is necessary.
The smuggler’s maneuver showed Dorothy that he was a novice; for instead of going into a climbing spiral which would have eluded her dive and made it possible for him to attain a superior position over both planes, he dove at the Ryan. This might have been a proper fighting maneuver if Bill’s plane had not been nosing upward toward him; and had the Ryan not been the faster of the two.
By this blunder he put himself in the direct line of fire from Bill’s machine gun. And had that young man been minded to use it the battle would have been over – almost before it started.
Seeing his mistake almost immediately, the bearded aviator broke his dive by zooming upward. Again Dorothy’s plane dove for his tail and right there he made his second error.
Instead of gaining altitude and position by making an Immelman turn, which consists of a half-roll on the top of a loop, he pulled back his stick sharply, simultaneously giving the Mystery Plane full right rudder. The result was an abrupt stall and a fall off, and his amphibian emerged from the resultant dive headed in the direction from which he had first appeared.
Dorothy sent her bus spiralling downward, while Bill simply nosed his Ryan into a steeper climb. By the time the Mystery Plane levelled off from its split-S turn it had lost over a thousand feet. Granted he was headed for home, if that had been his intention; now he was placed in the worst possible situation with regard to his opponents. For instead of one, both planes had attained positions above him.
For the next few minutes the man in the smuggler’s plane did his best to out-maneuver the elusive pair whose motors roared above his head like giant bees attacking an enemy. Never was he given a chance to better his position or to gain altitude. Every time he maneuvered to place one of the planes within line of fire from his machine gun, the other would effectually block the move; the menacing plane would sheer off at a tangent and its partner, crowding down upon his tail, would hurl forth a smoke bomb. By the time he floundered through the cloud, his antagonists would be back in their relative positions, again, the one directly above his tail plane, the other slightly behind him to the right.
The bearded aviator knew that he was being outclassed at every move, that gradually they were forcing him down to a point where he must land or crash.
Both Dorothy and Bill knew exactly when the man in the plane below guessed their purpose. For with a sudden burst of speed he shot ahead, streaking in the direction of North Stamford like a ghost in torment.
“We’ve got every advantage but one,” mused Dorothy, widening her throttle in pursuit. “He knows where he’s going – and we don’t. He’s up to some trick, I’ll bet.”
That her thoughts were prophetic was made apparent almost immediately. By shutting off his engine and by kicking his rudder alternately right and left with comparatively slow and heavy movements, the smuggler pilot sent his plane’s nose swinging from side to side. This evolution, known as fish-tailing, he executed without banking or dropping the nose to a steeper angle. Its purpose is to cut down speed and to do so as rapidly as possible.
The Mystery Plane slowed down as though a brake had been applied, sideslipped to the left over a line of trees and leveled off above a field enclosed by a dilapidated stone fence.
“Confound!” exclaimed Dorothy, with a glance behind. “He’s going to land and both Bill and I have overshot the field!”
Nose depressed below level, a lively flipper turn to left brought Will-o’-the-Wisp sharply round facing the field again with its wings almost vertical. Immediate application of up aileron and opposite rudder quickly brought the amphibian to an even keel once more. Then Dorothy nosed over, went into a forward slip, recovered and leveled off for a landing.
As the wheels of her plane touched the ground, she saw the Ryan come to a stop on the grass some yards to the right. Just ahead and between them was the Mystery Plane. It lay drunkenly over on one side, resting on its twisted landing gear and a crumpled lower wing section.
Dorothy stood up in her cockpit when Will-o’-the-Wisp stopped rolling and saw the smuggler-pilot vault the wall at the far corner of the field and disappear into a small wood. Bill was walking toward the disabled amphibian. She got out of her plane and hurried toward him.
“Pancaked!” she cried, pointing toward the wreck as she came within speaking distance.
“You said it – ” concurred Bill. “That guy was in such a hurry he leveled off too soon. Usually I don’t wish anybody hard luck but that bird is the great exception. Too bad he didn’t break a leg along with his plane. Now he’s beat it and – ”
“We are just about where we were before,” she broke in.
“Not quite, Dorothy. The Mystery Plane is out of commission. – I wonder where we are?”
“Somewhere in the North Stamford hills.”
“I know – but whose property are we on?”
“Haven’t the least idea.”
“I can’t see any houses around here. Did you notice any as you came down?”
Dorothy shook her head and laughed.
“My eyes were glued on this field,” she admitted. “I was too busy trying to make a landing myself to take in much of the landscape. Wait a minute, though – seems to me I caught a glimpse of the Castle just before I put Wispy into that reverse control turn. Yes, I’m sure of it.”
“The Castle?” Bill frowned. “What in the cock-eyed world is that?”
“A castle, silly!”
“Make sense out of that, please.”
“Sorry. You’re usually trying to mystify me – I just thought I’d turn the tables for a change.”
“Oh, I know – I’ll say I’m sorry or anything else you want. Only please tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Well, it seems that about fifteen or sixteen years ago, somebody built a castle about two or three miles from North Stamford village. It’s less than five miles from where we live. Not being up on medieval architecture I can’t describe it properly, but Dad says it is the kind that German robber barons put up in the fourteenth century. Anyway, the Castle is built of stone with a steep, slate roof, which spouts pointed turrets all over the place. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had been built by a German – it certainly looks as Heinie as sauerkraut!”
“Who lives there?” asked Bill.
“Nobody, now. During the war, Dad told me, the place was suspected to be a spy-hang-out or something like that. Anyway, there was a lot of talk about it. What became of the owner, whoever he is, I don’t know. The place has been rented several times during the past few years. It is quite near the road. I drove past it just the other day on my way to and from Nance Wilkins’ tea and the old dump looked quite empty and forlorn.”
“Well, that’s that,” said Bill. “This bearded guy may have been heading for your Castle, but I doubt it. Fact is, he probably decided to land at the first convenient place when he found we were too much for him, and decided to trust to his legs for a getaway.”
Dorothy had been swinging her helmet by its chin strap in an absent-minded manner. Now she raised her eyes to his.
“What are we going to do about it?” she inquired. “We can’t try to break into the Castle in broad daylight.”
“Hardly. And after our experience with the bank gang, we’ll do no more snooping around strange houses on our own. I am going over to that little wood where our friend ran to cover. Maybe I can find some trace of him. You stay here with the planes.”
“Why can’t I go with you, Bill?”
“Because that smuggler may simply be hiding in the woods in hopes that we’ll come after him and that we’ll leave these airbuses unguarded. Then when we’re gone, he’ll come back here, grab one of them and fly quietly home.”
“All right. I see.”
“Have you got a gun?”
“That small Colt you gave me is in Wispy’s cockpit.”
“Get it and keep it on you – and if that guy shows up, don’t be afraid to use it.”
Dorothy shook her head. “I never shot at anybody in my life – ”
“Don’t shoot at him —shoot him. You might have to, you know.”
“But surely, Bill – ”
“Oh, I don’t mean for you to kill the guy. Plunk him in the leg – disable him. If you have any qualms about it, just remember that machine gun in his bus here. The man is as deadly as a copperhead and twice as treacherous. Look out for him.”
“I will. But su-suppose you get into trouble, Bill. How long do you want me to wait here before I come after you?”
“My dear girl,” Bill was becoming impatient. “I’m just going to try to find out where that lad is headed. I won’t be gone more than ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Yes. But suppose you don’t come back here!”
“Wait for half an hour. Then fly back home and tell Dad what has happened. He’ll know what to do. Don’t get nervous – I’ll be all right. So long. See you in a few minutes.”
With a wave of his hand, he ran across the field and Dorothy saw him hurdle the low wall and disappear between the trees of the wood where the bearded aviator had run to cover.
