“I say, what a pair of nuts we are. We don’t know that boy’s name.” Jim, who was in the passenger seat beside his step-brother, made the announcement with disgust. Bob made a grimace.
“We do take first prize. Do you think that pair are batty?”
“Not as batty as some of the rest of us,” Jim declared emphatically.
“That’s what I think. I say, let’s not do any talking about them. You know, sometimes a little thing starts things and evidently this Burnam bird isn’t letting any grass grow under his feet.”
“That’s a first-rate idea.” They had just left Corso and his nephew in one of the small towns in the northern part of New York state, and the couple had taken a train south. Now the boys were about ready to return to North Hero.
“I’m telling the cock-eyed world that we are landing on the turkey farm and somebody’s going to talk turkey. It won’t be us,” Bob declared.
“Atta boy. You know, Buddy, we agreed with what that boy said just because we’ve been suspicious of Hezzy all along, but we couldn’t convince your uncle nor any of the Selectmen on anything as thin as that. We’ve got to get something on the fellow; something no one will be able to think isn’t real proof.”
“That’s right,” Bob acknowledged. “It’s getting kind of late. Suppose we drop down there. If Hezzy’s around we can get the lay of things, and maybe find evidence enough so Uncle Norman can act on it. We’ll have to be mighty careful, or Burley will be suspicious.”
“We might say we need a little gas, that our tanks are empty,” Jim suggested. “And ask about the dog, if he’s getting over that sickness.”
“Yes, that’s the idea. I’ve been wondering—if Hezzy is getting away with the turkeys, he wouldn’t want a good watch dog around. I’ve got a kind of hunch we’d better be ready to act with a snap.”
“Suits me. Let her go.” Bob opened the throttle and presently they were in the air, each thinking soberly of what might be before them. As Jim recalled the weird experiences of the afternoon and the interview with the foreign boy, it all seemed mighty unreal, but he had to admit that the emerald ring on his middle finger was not a dream, and the jewel in his shirt pocket pressed against his chest was substantial enough. The air was heavy with clouds that hung low, and the boy knew that another storm was brewing. He hoped it wouldn’t be a bad one, for the Vermonters had already suffered terrific loss because of the late rains and the flooding lake which was sweeping everything before it. Looking down he could see the thrashing waves, and the whimsical idea came to him that the lake was determined to go somewhere.
“A river has more fun,” he grinned to himself. Bob’s mind was fully occupied with his job of piloting, but it did not take long to cross Champlain. It was dark enough now so that homes were being lighted up. The bright window squares began to look like jewels suspended on a rapidly darkening background. In a little while night would be upon them. As they approached Isle La Motte they were riding five thousand feet up, and suddenly Jim noticed two other planes flash through the clouds from the north. He wondered if it was their friend the mail pilot, but the hour was not right, and besides there would not be two. He touched Bob on the arm, and pointed.
“There’s a couple of planes.” Bob picked them out a moment later, then both boys sat tense and astonished as they noticed that the flying machines were circling above the eastern side of the turkey farm. Through breaks in the mist the boys saw that the machines were both large ones, big enough to carry considerable freight or several passengers. Why they should be maneuvering through the clouds above Isle La Motte was puzzling, so Bob, as he watched them, guided Her Highness in a wide circle a thousand feet higher. He was confident their presence would not be observed or heard as long as the other engines were racing. Keeping the planes within their range of vision was difficult, and several times they lost sight of them, but succeeded in picking them up again. Jim had his eyes fast to the glasses, and suddenly he made out a man standing upright on one of the wings. A second man jumped out of the cock-pit and joined the first, then a third and a fourth got on to the other side of the fuselage. It took an instant for the boy to guess what they were going to do, then he shouted.
“They are going to jump!”
“Over the lake.”
“The farm. I’m going after them.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he was busy with the safety straps, and as he unbuckled himself he noticed their lariats coiled about the hooks. Instinctively, but with no idea for what he might use them, the young ranch boy reached for the long plaited leather ropes. It was natural to have them in his hands, and he hopped out of the cock-pit.
“I’ll land over there and join you as fast as I can,” Bob bellowed, and although Jim could understand only one or two of the words, he guessed the rest and nodded. He glanced down again and by that time counted five figures dropping through the clouds, but instead of white silk parachutes blossoming out above them, the huge umbrellas were some dark color which was soon lost in the haze. Without waiting any longer, Jim hopped over, while Bob maneuvered to keep out of his way, then the pilot turned about and started for the nearest shore of the lake.
While dropping through the air toward the Fenton turkey farm, Jim’s brain was working like a trip hammer. His parachute was white and therefore conspicuous. He did not want to land before the other jumpers nor did he want to be too near them. As soon as he was clear of Her Highness, he pulled the cord, and calling to his mind a detailed picture of the property, he guided himself far enough to the north so that he would be over the forest. He hoped that the others would be too occupied in their own arrival to do much looking around. The parachute floated him gently, and by spilling air carefully, he managed to keep from, being carried from the course he wanted to follow. Sometimes the mist was so thick that he couldn’t see a thing in any direction, and then he would be drifting through breaks light enough so that he could keep his bearings. His drop was a thousand feet more than the men he was interested in, and each one of them, he noticed, let himself go more than half of the distance before pulling the cords which opened the “chutes.”
“Wow, there are more,” the boy exclaimed and he counted ten tumblers. “What in heck are they up to?” He couldn’t answer the question and he didn’t try, but concentrated all his attention in observing as much as possible. The first man landed on the smooth space which was familiar to Jim, and he saw someone coming to meet the new arrival. The chap looked amazingly like Hezzy, and the boy whistled. He saw the fellow free himself from his trappings, then the pair scooted out of sight. By the time Jim was nearly ready to land, he had seen the ten drop out of the fog, and each one scooted away as quickly as possible. The boy glanced beneath and saw he was coming to what looked like a grove of young maples or willows, and he smiled with satisfaction. They were not very tall and promised him a safe landing. In a moment more it was made, then he too ducked out of the straps as fast as his fingers could unbuckle them. Expertly he folded the “umbrella” and hung it where he could find it again, then made his way stealthily toward the clearing. The fog was rolling from the east but did not seem inclined to settle, and that helped him a lot. At the edge of the woods, his lariat in hand, he stood trying to pick out the spot on which the men had landed. At last he discovered it, and he made another discovery. Just a few feet below where he was standing was the edge of a long, narrow fine-wire enclosed pen, such as were made for young turkeys on the other side of the farm.
“The mystery begins to clear,” he muttered softly.
Stepping carefully so he would start not the slightest commotion he made the way toward the pen, and then he saw there was a shelter over a large section. The place was built of old boards and seemed to have been made to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Listening tensely, Jim was sure that he could hear the queer noise young turkeys make, but he didn’t dare to scrutinize more closely. He was determined to find where Hezzy and the ten men were located. It occurred to him that they might be already making their way to the old farm house, which was certainly big enough to accommodate them all without crowding, but at the same time he had a hunch that an investigation of his immediate surroundings would be more to the point for the present.
Before going any further Jim listened for the planes, but not an engine roared in the skies. He thought that the two had proceeded away from the place as soon as their passengers discharged themselves and the boy wondered if these men landing on Isle La Motte had anything to do with the gang which Allen Ruhel and Bradshaw had raided. The officers had said that a few got away, but of course they could not know how many. These might be left-overs who had been compelled to keep in hiding until they arranged for a safe get-away from Canada. The more he thought, the more suppositions flashed through his brain. Suddenly he heard a muffled step, as if made by a man walking cautiously in rubber boots and the boy dodged quickly behind the biggest tree, then dropped to his stomach and made a tiny opening in the underbrush so he cou............