The Girl Aviators' Motor Butterfly Part 16

"Well, there's no use minimizing the fix we're in," declared Roy. "This is a lonesome bit of country. It may be a week before anyone will come around. We've just got to get out, that's all there is to it."

"I wish you'd solve the problem then," sighed Jimsy; "it's too much for me."

"I'll make another search of the premises, maybe we can stumble across something that may aid us. At any rate, it will give us something to do and keep our minds off the predicament we are in."

Roy struck a match, of which he had a plentiful supply in his pockets.

As the yellow flame sputtered up in the semi-gloom it showed every corner of the small hut. But it did not reveal anything that promised a chance to gain their liberty.

All at once, just as the light was sputtering out, Peggy gave a cry.

Her eye had been caught by a glistening metal object in one corner of the hut.

"What is it?" asked Roy.

"A gun--a shot-gun standing in that corner over there."

"Huh!" sniffed Jimsy, "a lot of good that does us."

"On the contrary," declared Peggy stoutly, "if it's loaded it may serve to get us free."

"I'm from Missouri," declared Jimsy enigmatically.

"What's your idea, sis?" asked Roy, who knew that Peggy's ideas were usually worth following up.

"I remember reading only a short time ago of a man trapped much as we are who escaped by blowing off the lock of his prison with a gun he carried," replied Peggy; "maybe it would work in our case."

"Maybe it would if--" rejoined Roy.

"If what?"

"If the gun was loaded, which is most unlikely."

"Well, try it and see," urged Peggy.

"Yes, do," echoed Jimsy; "Peggy's plan sounds like a good idea. Maybe some hunter left it here and the sh.e.l.ls are still in it."

"No harm in finding out anyway," declared Roy.

He struck another match and picked up the gun. It was an antique looking weapon badly-rusted. But on opening the breech he uttered a cry of joy.

"Good luck!" he exclaimed, "two sh.e.l.ls,--one in each barrel."

"Well, put it to the test," urged Jimsy.

"All right. If this fails, though, I don't know what we'll do."

"Don't worry about that now. Try it."

"I'm going to. Don't get peevish."

Roy crossed the room to the door. Raising the gun to his shoulder he placed the muzzle about opposite to where he thought the padlock must be located.

"Look out for a big noise, sis," he warned.

Peggy gave a little scream and raised her hands to her ears. She disliked firearms.

"Ready?" sang out Jimsy.

"All ready," came the reply.

"Then fire!"

Simultaneously with Jimsy's order came a deafening report. In that confined s.p.a.ce it sounded as if a huge cannon had been fired. Roy staggered back under the "kick" of the heavy charge.

"Once more," he announced.

Again a sonorous report sounded, but this time a section of the door was blown right out of the framework. The daylight streamed in through it.

"Now then for the test," cried Roy. "Come on, Jimsy."

The two boys placed their shoulders to the door. With a suddenness that was startling, it burst open, and they faced freedom. The lock had been fairly driven from its hold by the twice repeated charge of shot.

The young aviators were free once more. But it remained to be seen if the men who wished them harm had wrought their vengeance on the _Golden b.u.t.terfly_.

CHAPTER XIV.

WHAT'S TO BE DONE WITH THE WREN?

The _Golden b.u.t.terfly_, as an examination proved, had not been damaged during their imprisonment in the hut. Evidently, the men who had slammed the door and padlocked it had made off at top speed as soon as they had completed what they hoped would be a source of sore trouble to the young aviators.

"And now we'll fly back as agreed," declared Peggy merrily.

Her spirits, almost down to zero in the hut, had recovered themselves marvellously in the fresh open air. She was radiant.

"I declare that the stay in the hut has done you good," declared Jimsy, looking at her admiringly.

"Maybe it has--by contrast," returned Peggy.

"Like a sea trip," put in Roy. "I've heard that people who suffer from sea sickness are so much relieved when they get ash.o.r.e that they imagine their good spirits are due to a change in their condition."

"Well, that applies to me," returned Peggy; "I didn't think we'd get out of that hut so easily. How do you suppose that gun came to be there?"

"The hunters who use the hut must have left it there," rejoined Roy; "I wonder if they'll ever know how useful it was to us."

"More likely they'll be mad when they find that the lock is blown off the door," laughed Jimsy.