Dorothy Dixon and the Mystery Plane

by Clarence Young

  Chapter XIV

  UP AGAINST IT

  It was finally decided that Dorothy and Bill should make a series ofcircular 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 patrolsseparately? When I come down, you go up. In that way we can stay in theair twice as long on the same amount of gas, and take a rest once in awhile."

  "Too risky. These smugglers are desperate. We've already thrown agood-sized monkey-wrench into the works of their organization. ThatMystery Plane is quite likely to pack along a machine gun--and use it ifthe 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'splans are, but if you're going on these patrols, just remember that heis the captain of the outfit and must have obedience. Otherwise, I'llnot 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 yourcaptain do the thinking."

  "You see, Dorothy," explained Bill, "in order to use a gun in the air, apilot must have training and practice. Otherwise, all you do is to drawthe enemy's fire. If we meet up with this bird you'll have plenty tokeep you busy--a very important part to play. But if there's any gunningto be done, I'll do it. Before we go up, I'll outline exactly what we'reto 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, themore we are likely to accomplish."

  "Hold your horses," laughed Bill. "Don't think for a minute we're goingto 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 thingat 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'texpect it to take the air just when you want it to!"

  "Stop quarreling, children," admonished her father. "Bill knows what heis talking about."

  "Well, maybe he does. He can catch the old plane by himself. I'mthrough."

  "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 andtell her why you mean to take short hops. I can't see the sense in suchprocedure myself--any more than she can. And just remember that anoverdose of excitement puts anybody's nerves on edge. She's been througha lot more than you have during the last few days."

  At his father's words, Bill's face wore such a look of honestcontrition, that Dorothy's conscience smote her. They both began tospeak 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 Iought to say, the flights we know about--during the late afternoon. Ihaven'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 chancesare he'll continue to leave his hangar at about the same time. My planis for us to take off at about four each afternoon. We can remain in theair until six. If he comes from around here, we'd catch him shortlyafter he takes the air. That's how I figure it."

  "Maybe you're right." Dorothy was still unconvinced. "But how about thewarning 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 inthe 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 Igave them credit for, if they really think they can steer us off withtripe 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 usto go after the Mystery Plane as a matter of pride--and then fill usfull of machine gun bullets. If they start anything like that--well--twocan play the game and if that lad with the beard can't shoot any betterthan he handled his plane when he zoomed the house just now--it is, asthe 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. Youkeep 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'sgoing on patrols with him unless he felt assured she would run nodanger. 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 minimumof danger if Dorothy does as I tell her. In the first place, machine gunfire in the air is not nearly so potent as it is on terra firma. Try andhit a small object flashing by when you're traveling like a bat outof--ahem!--Harlem. Try it and see how many planes you don't hit! And inthe second place, that bearded guy won't get a chance to turn his gun inher direction."

  "Well, I'm no flyer and I haven't the slightest idea of thetechnicalities that must arise in aerial combat work," Mr. Dixon madethis 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 gothe whole hog, now she's a licensed pilot!"

  Dorothy's father shook his head in pretended sorrow. "You're all againstme, that's obvious. And there's much too much pig in this conversationto suit a conservative parent." He threw an affectionate glance atDorothy. "Ever since this tomboy daughter of mine was able to grip myfinger when I leaned over her crib, she has pulled her old Dad hitherand yon to suit her fancy. So I suppose I'll have to give inagain--acknowledge I'm wrong, and so forth. Run along, children, and seeto it your airships are in apple-pie order."

  "You're a darling!" His daughter bestowed a hearty kiss upon his leftear.

  "Beat it--you scamp!" Mr. Dixon's voice was gruff, though his eyessparkled with merriment. "If you bother me much longer, it will be lunchtime 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 thesteps.

  "Well, what shall it be?" she inquired when he joined her. "Your ship ormine, first?"

  "Mine, I think. None of the three has been off the apron of the hangarsince I left for Europe. Frank has been looking af
ter them. He's a greatold feller, you know. When we brought him back from New York he didn'tknow a fork from a gadget. Now he's chauffeur, general factotem aroundthe 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. Shecertainly is a smart little bus--can fly rings around anything in thisneck 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 typemotor car manufacturers advertise as "de luxe model." As they came insight, 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 oldboy'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 hisgrey flannel trousers, now streaked with the dirt of the roadway.

  "Good morning, Miss Dorothy," he greeted, clipping his words in aprecise manner. "Afraid I'm not exactly presentable." Then for the firsttime, 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 anyhelp?"

  "Thanks, no. Loose nut, that's all." He patted his monkey wrench with agrimy 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 meinstruction--that is, if you're not too expensive?"

  "I'm really not in the business," parried Bill. "You'd do much better atone of the schools. Glad to give you a hop, though, if you'd like to goup?"

  "Thanks so much. I'll be glad to take advantage of your offer. Whatabout this afternoon? It's a perfectly lovely day."

  "Sorry, but today I'm overhauling my planes. Been away some time, yousee. I'll probably take them up on tests about four. But of course Idon't want the responsibility of a passenger until I know they arerunning O.K."

  Mr. Tracey nodded and got into his car.

  "I understand perfectly. Thanks for the invitation, though. I'll giveyou a ring later in the week and allow myself the pleasure of going upwith 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?" sheasked.

  "Because if the smuggling gang know what I'm going to do it will savetime if we pull off our little scrap this afternoon."

  Before this admission Dorothy had looked puzzled. Now her eyebrows wentup in startled astonishment.

  "Good Heavens, Bill! You surely don't think that Mr. Tracey has anythingto do with that! He's as prim and prissy as a pussy-cat!"

  "Just my opinion. Of course he knows nothing about the diamonds. Butyour prissy boy friend has the reputation of being the worst gossip inNew Canaan. When he takes those gray bags of his to be cleaned, it willbe all over the village that Bill Bolton is back and intends to test outhis 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 onthe planes."

  With four airplanes to groom, the next few hours proved busy ones forboth Dorothy and Bill. But by four o'clock everything was ready fortheir flight.

  "Got your instructions down pat?" he inquired as Dorothy got aboard theWill-o'-the-Wisp. The airplane was resting on the concrete apron of theDixons' 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 amoment or two he stood there watching her amphibian taxi away from thehangar, gathering speed as it went. Then when the wheels left the groundand the big bird of wood and metal soared upward, he turned away andmade off in the direction of his father's property.

  As Will-o'-the-Wisp climbed in great widening circles, Dorothy at thecontrols knew she had plenty of time to gain the position agreed uponbefore Bill could get under way. The air was smooth and still, withoutthe slightest breath of disturbing wind. Perfect flying weather andwonderful visibility with a clear blue horizon unmarred by the smallestshred of cloud.

  The Boltons had turned the ten-acre pasture behind their house into alevel flying field. The old hay barn had been enlarged, partitionsremoved and a concrete floor laid. It now made a large roomy hangar, fortheir three planes.

  Looking down as she kept on circling higher and higher, Dorothy saw Billcross the ridge road and appear a moment or two later on his own flyingfield. She watched him hurry down to the hangar and could see Frank busyabout the Ryan before its open doors. Then she saw Bill get aboard. Whenshe looked again, his small monoplane was already in the air.

  By this time the indicator on Will-o'-the-Wisp's altimeter marked aheight of between eight and nine thousand feet. According toinstructions, Dorothy leveled off and bringing right rudder and rightaileron simultaneously into play, she sent the plane into a widecircular turn. Far below, the Ryan was pursuing the same tactics, sothat both planes were cruising over the township of New Canaan.

  Dorothy and Bill continued to maintain the same relative positions forthe next fifteen or twenty minutes. Then as Will-o'-the-Wisp swung roundtoward the west, Dorothy spied a third plane, streaking toward NewCanaan at an altitude of some three thousand feet.

  The fact that Bill had also spotted the intruder was evident, for hebegan to climb.

  "Bill's advertising plan worked," muttered Dorothy with satisfaction."If that amphibian over there isn't the Mystery Plane, I'll eat myailerons!"