Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island Part 20

"Well, what's the idea of our coming over here every night to sleep, when there's oodles of room there on Lost Island, where we're needed?

Huh?"

"What's that 'huh'? Boy Scout for sir?" cried Jerry hotly.

Phil jumped to his feet, but to the surprise of Jerry, who had put up his fists, the Scout Leader brought his heels together with a click and his right hand went to the salute.

"I stand convicted," he said simply. "You're the boss of this expedition. What's orders?"

"Orders are to break camp--it's already pretty well broken--and take s.h.i.+p for Lost Island. Patrol Leader Fulton will take charge of the job while Boss Ring goes off and kicks himself quietly but firmly."

They all laughed and good feeling was restored. The Scouts made short work of getting their traps together, even in the dark, and it was not many minutes before the first load was on the way to Lost Island.

Jerry, Phil and Dave followed silently afterwards in the _Big Four_ with the rest of the dunnage.

"You think _they_ did it?" asked Dave of no one in particular. No one asked who _they_ were, nor did anyone answer, but each knew what the others were thinking.

Mr. Fulton showed no surprise when told of their decision to camp henceforth on the island. "Good idea," was his only comment.

They were not disturbed that night, and the next day pa.s.sed without incident, save that Budge had the bad luck to break a truss he had been all day in making. "Good!" said Mr. Fulton. "That wood might have caused a serious accident if it had got into the _Skyrocket_." Budge, knowing his awkwardness and not the timber was to blame, felt grateful that he had been spared the reproof that would have been natural.

They had been making good progress, in spite of their greenness; next day Mr. Fulton was planning to stretch the silk over the planes; it had already been given a preliminary coat of a kind of flexible varnish which was also a part of Mr. Fulton's invention. The carpenter had done his part handsomely. The launch had come down the day before with all of the heavier framework and trusses. A few rods were still to come from the blacksmith, and the rear elevator control was still awaited, but enough of the material had been mended and put in place to make the aeroplane look less like a wreck.

Jerry and Mr. Fulton had finally managed to master the secret of the motor; that is, they finally made it run as smoothly as a top, but neither one was ever able to tell why it had not done so from the start. Oiled and polished, it stood on the bench till a final brace should be forthcoming.

Camp had been pitched on the river side of the open ground, close beside the path. The second night of their new location Mr. Fulton and Elizabeth came over, d.i.c.k guarding the _Skyrocket_ and Tod remaining at the cabin to look after poor Billings, who, thanks to the doctor's daily visits and his daughter's patient nursing, was growing steadily stronger. Elizabeth brought along a guitar, which she played daintily, singing the choruses of all the popular songs the boys could ask for by name. After a little bashful hesitation, Dave chimed in, while the rest of the boys lay back and listened in undisguised delight.

Into this peaceful scene burst Tod, frightened out of his wits. It was a full minute before he finally managed to gasp:

"They've come--they've been here! I didn't see them!"

"What in the world do you mean?" cried Mr. Fulton, shaking the excited boy with his left hand. "If you didn't see them, how do you----"

"I didn't. But it's gone--the motor's gone.----"

"What!" yelled the whole crew at once.

"d.i.c.k and I sat outside the doorway, listening to you folks having a good time, and I went in to see what time it was--and there was the hole in the side of the hang--hang--the shed, and the motor had disappeared. At least that was all we noticed was gone."

The last of this was delivered on the run, for all had set out for the machine shop, Mr. Fulton having promptly vetoed Phil's plan to put a circle of Scouts around the sh.o.r.e.

Sure enough, a big gap showed in the side of the hangar, where two boards had been pried loose. "Lucky you were outside," grunted Phil disgustedly, "or they'd have pulled the whole place down over your head."

"We've got to work fast," urged Mr. Fulton. "If they get away with the motor the stuff's all off. They're desperate men--I don't want any of you trying to tackle them. Scout ahead, and when you sight them, this is the signal:" He whistled the three short notes of the whippoor-will's call. "I've got my automatic, and I guess I can take care of them."

As they hurried out into the night they spread out, working toward the east side of the island. Jerry found himself next to Phil, and after a few yards he moved over closer to the Scout Leader.

"I say, Phil," he called guardedly; "you ready to listen to the wildest kind of a notion?"

"Shoot," came the answer.

"I don't believe our visitors came on the island for that motor at all.

What good would it do them?"

"It'd stop our launching the _Skyrocket_, for one thing."

"But there are lots of lighter things that would do that. I don't trust those two ruffians--or their boss, either."

"Well, who does?"

"That's not the point. Mr. Fulton figures that they merely want to keep those others from buying his idea, so that when the first option expires, _they_ can. But if they could steal the plans in the meanwhile--get me?"

"I get you. Then you think that stealing the motor was just a blind, and that they are----"

"Getting us out of the road so they can take their time going through the workshop. If we're wrong, there's plenty of Scouts out trailing them--it'd be too late anyway, as it's only a few hundred feet to where they would have left their boat. What say we sneak back, see if there's a gun at the cabin, and take them by surprise when they start burglarizing the hangar?"

Phil turned about by way of answer, and stealthily they approached the cabin. A light showed dim in the invalid's room, and through the curtained window they could see Elizabeth's long braids bent over a book. She merely looked up when they stopped at the window, and at once came out the back door to where they stood.

"Is there a gun in the house?" questioned Phil.

"A thirty-two Colts," she replied. "Want it?"

"Quick as we can have it. _They_ are on the island."

But she did not wait to hear the rest of his explanation. In a jiffy she had brought them an ugly looking revolver. "Be careful," she said as she handed it to Phil; "it shoots when you pull the trigger."

The boys stole across the narrow s.p.a.ce between the cabin and the hangar, and flattened themselves against the log walls as they wound their way toward the little "night door" near the other end. As they pa.s.sed the big sliding doors they paused an instant and pressed their ears close against the planks, but all was still. Both had an instant of disappointment, for they were counting strongly on being able to crow over the rest.

But when they came to the crack where the two doors came together, and looked within, their spirits jumped up till they hardly knew whether they were pleased or frightened. For just an instant a flash lamp had lighted up the darkness!

Not quite so cautiously now, and a good deal faster, they made their way to the little door, guided by their sense of feeling, for the night was black as the pitch in the old saying. Jerry turned the catch firmly but slowly, and the door swung open without a creak. They stepped inside.

They were now in a walled off ante-room used for small supplies. It opened into the main workshop by means of a narrow doorway. Standing in the middle of the tiny room they had a full view of the whole place.

Like two monstrous fireflies a pair of dark figures darted about, ransacking Mr. Fulton's desk, tearing open the lockers and cupboards, searching out every likely nook and cranny where papers might be hid, their flashlights throwing dazzling light on each object of their suspicion.

The two boys realized suddenly that the attention of the two had been focused in their direction, and Jerry jumped back behind the shelter of the door-edge just in time to escape the blinding rays of the flashlights. Phil evidently realized that their time of grace was over and there was nothing to be gained in further delay.

With raised pistol he stepped out into the light.

"Hands up!" he ordered gruffly. "Your little game is ended for to-night."

But he had miscalculated somewhat. With startling suddenness darkness closed in about them, there was a quick rush across the littered floor, a thud as a heavy body dashed against the shed wall and crashed through the inch boards. Phil's gun roared out twice. As the two boys hastened to the gap in the wall they could hear the crash of the pair as they tore madly through the brush. Then all was still again.

But not for long. Panting from the run, Mr. Fulton and three of the Scouts came chasing like mad through the darkness.

"What's happened?" he cried when he saw it was Jerry and Phil. He listened as patiently as possible to their disconnected story, laughing grimly at the end. "Well, they'll swim it to sh.o.r.e, because we found their boat, and we sunk it under about a ton of stones."

"Yes, but----" began Jerry, a premonition of further disaster in his mind and on the tip of his tongue, when from the east sh.o.r.e of Lost Island came wild cries of rage and chagrin. "Just what I thought!"

exclaimed Jerry, by way of finis.h.i.+ng out his sentence.