Airship Andy Or The Luck of a Brave Boy Part 24

"Just beyond that grove of trees," said Andy, "and we come in full view of the Collins farmhouse. Now we can see it-Why, I-don't-understand-this."

Andy slowed down in speech, with a series of wondering gasps, as he likewise slowed down the machine.

"Why, what's the matter, Nelson?" queried Mr. Webb.

"Don't you see?" began Andy. "No, you don't see, and that's just it.

There's something wrong. The farmhouse did stand right over where that gravelled road runs into the farm, and now--"

"Nelson," interrupted Mr. Webb almost sharply, "there has been a fire here."

Andy stared dubiously, but in great concern. There could be no doubt of it, this was the site of the Collins' farm. There were the white-washed posts where the farm road began, the horse block where he bade the goose farmer good-by, but the farmhouse itself had disappeared.

CHAPTER XX-A NEW CAPTIVITY

"Nelson, could you possibly be mistaken?"

"No, sir, positively not."

Andy had come to a dead stop with the automobile. He stared blankly at the prospect before them. The site of the Collins farmhouse was a flat stretch of waste and ruin. Gra.s.s, weeds, trees, fences showed the ravages of a great fire.

Mr. Webb looked dreadfully disappointed. His face had become almost pale. Andy shared his disquietude, but he could simply say:

"I am very sorry."

"You did all you could, Nelson," responded his companion. "Here comes some one. We will question him a little."

A farm laborer with a hoe across his shoulder sauntered down the road.

Andy hailed him. As he came nearer to them Mr. Webb said:

"My man, what has been happening around here?"

"Don't you see?" queried the man, with a comprehensive wave of his hand across the bleak ruins. "Fire."

"This is the Collins farm, isn't it?"

"It was," answered the man. "The fire took them in the night a week ago."

"And burned everything about the place?"

"Down to the pig styes."

"Where are the Collins people?"

"Gone over into Bowen County until they can arrange to build again."

"Start up, Nelson," ordered Mr. Webb. "It's a waste of time to loiter around here."

Mr. Webb felt cruelly disappointed. Andy saw this and was sorry for him.

He glanced at the spot where he remembered the old shed to have stood.

Even the tree that had sheltered it had burned to a crisp.

"Where am I to go?" inquired Andy.

"You had better strike for Rushville," replied Mr. Webb. "From what I remember, you can get a train to Montrose earlier than on the Central."

"I am to go on to John Parks?"

"That's the programme," said Mr. Webb, trying to appear cheerful; "why not?"

Andy reflected seriously for a moment or two. Finally he spoke:

"Mr. Webb," he said; "I hardly feel right to leave you on my bond for that big amount. Something might happen so that I could not appear for trial-trickery, or a dozen things."

"And because you have not succeeded in recovering that pocketbook, you suppose I'm going to desert you, Nelson?" inquired the gentleman.

"You are not the man to do a single mean thing," replied Andy, "but, with all your troubles, and me being a stranger--"

"Drop it, Nelson. You have tried to be the best friend in the world to me, and I'd go on your bond for double the amount I have. You are to go straight on to Montrose, win that airs.h.i.+p race, and when you have got that off your mind we will have a talk together."

"You are a good, kind man," said Andy, with fervor, "and I'd walk barefooted on hot coals to get you back that pocketbook."

When they reached Rushville, Mr. Webb took charge of the automobile. He made many encouraging references to the coming airs.h.i.+p race, and when he left Andy at the railroad station shook his hand in a friendly way.

Andy made a disappointing discovery as soon as he consulted the train schedules. A change in the service of the road had been made only that week, and there was no train south until seven o'clock. It was now three, and he would have to wait four hours.

"I won't be able to get home until after dark," reflected the lad. "I hoped to have an hour or two of daylight for practice, but this knocks my plans awry. Well, as it is, this is a good deal better than missing the race altogether."

It was quite dark when the train reached the limits of Montrose. It stopped at a crossing, and Andy got off and made a short cut for the Parks camp.

His course led him past the large aviation field. Andy was anxious to report to Mr. Parks as soon as possible, but unusual light and animation about the big enclosure aroused his curiosity and interest, and he pa.s.sed the gate and strolled by the various aerodromes.

Everything was "the race!" Groups were discussing it, contestants were oiling up their machines and exploiting the merits of the others. An hour pa.s.sed by before Andy realized it. He came to halt in front of the last tent in the row, turned to retrace his steps, and then suddenly halted.

"I'd like to know what the Duske crowd is about," he reflected, glancing towards the isolated camp which he had surrept.i.tiously visited only a few nights previous. "Mr. Parks might be glad to know, too. I'll do a little skirmis.h.i.+ng and find out what I can."

Andy crossed a dark s.p.a.ce. Lights were moving about the Duske camp, and these served as a guide. He neared the fence surrounding the camp, got over it, and cautiously approached the large tent which held the airs.h.i.+p he had inspected on his first stealthy visit to the place.

Suddenly Andy tripped and fell. His foot had caught in a wire stretched taut under the gra.s.s. As he went headlong across the gra.s.s, a bell began to jingle, and he realized that the wire was one of many probably set to trap intruders. At all events, before he could get to his feet two men ran out of the tent.

One of these was Duske. The other was his companion of the evening when Andy had previously visited the place. They pounced on him promptly.

"Another spy," spoke Duske, dragging the captive toward the tent.

"They're getting thick," observed his companion. "Those fellows at the big camp are mighty curious to pry into the secrets of our craft here.

h.e.l.lo! why, Duske, this is the same fellow we caught snooping around here three nights since."