Gypsy Flight

by Roy J. Snell

  CHAPTER II THE VANISHING BAG

  "My bag! It is gone! My traveling bag! It has been stolen!" The youngstewardess knew on the instant that the dark-faced lady was the one whowas screaming. That the bag was truly missing she did not doubt.

  "Well, it's happened," she thought to herself as she tumbled from herbunk.

  What she said to the dark-faced lady was done in a more official manner:

  "I'm sure it can't be far away. Someone has moved it by mistake. We'lldress, then we will have a look." Her tone was calm enough, though herheart was not.

  They did dress and they did have a look--several looks, but all to noavail.

  To Rosemary this was distressing. The whole affair had gone off soextremely well until now. Of course no one had wished to be delayed onthe journey, but the evening in the lodge had been a delightful one. Shehad planned waffles with real maple syrup and coffee for breakfast. Andnow came this. It was disheartening.

  Here in the gloom of early morning was the dark-faced woman claimingthat her traveling bag had been taken. And who, in the end, could doubtit? It surely was not to be seen in the bunk room. Everything was turnedover there except the dark one's bunk which had been made up. And ofcourse in a bunk flat as a pancake one does not look for a sizabletraveling bag stuffed with all manner of things.

  It was not in the large outer room either. When they went outside to seeif some person might have crept in and taken it, or, as the dark-facedone insisted, "crept out to hide it" there was the clean white snow withnever a track save the half-buried one of Mark Morris coming to reporton the progress of the storm some hours before.

  "It's the strangest thing!" said Rosemary, for once finding herselfquite out of bounds. "It can't have gotten away. It just can't!"

  "I insist that every person in the place be searched!" the dark womandemanded.

  "What! Search our pockets for a traveling bag?" A rotund drummer roaredwith laughter.

  "Not for the bag, but for the valuable papers I carried. The bag, morethan likely, has been burned in the fireplace."

  "Absurd!" exclaimed one of the middle-aged ladies. "Leather creates aterrible odor when burned."

  "Who said it was leather?" snapped the inquisitor. "It was, I believe,fiber."

  In the end, for the good of her company's reputation, Rosemary persuadedthem to submit to a search of a sort. The men emptied their pockets,then turned them inside out. The dark-faced woman went over the otherwomen with hands that suggested they might have been used for that samepurpose often, so deft, precise and cat-like were her motions.

  It was while the men were going through their part of the performancethat the young stewardess noticed a curious thing. The woman watchedthem all with what appeared to be slight interest until it came the turnof Danby Force who had paid so high a price for his reservation on thisplane. Then it seemed to the girl that veritable sparks of fire shotfrom the black eyes of the woman. That she took in every detail wasevident. That a look of grim satisfaction, seeming to say, "Ah ha! It isas I thought!" settled on the woman's face at that moment, the girlcould not for a moment doubt.

  "But why?" she asked herself. "Why?"

  To this question she could form no sensible answer for, as in all othercases, the woman said in a low tone: "None of these are mine."

  Just then the airplane pilot came in to tell them that the storm was atan end and they might resume their journey. In the rush of preparation,the hurried brewing of coffee, the hasty eating of a rather meagerbreakfast, the dark-faced woman and her vanished traveling bag werepretty much forgotten.

  When at last the travelers were on their way, walking single-file up thesteep incline, Rosemary found herself standing quite unexpectedly besidethe strange young man, Danby Force.

  "Wonderful place, this lodge!" he was saying. "Wouldn't mind coming uphere for a week sometime."

  "Nor I!" Rosemary spoke with unfeigned enthusiasm. And who would not?They were standing on a broad ledge. Above them, seeming to melt intothe fleecy clouds, was the mountain's snowy peak. Below, a sheer drop ofa thousand feet, was a very narrow valley all covered with the darkgreen of pine, spruce, cedar and tamarack. The air was rich with thefragrance of the forest.

  "One of the high officials in our company is a member," Rosemary said,nodding back at the lodge. "That's why we are free to use it."

  "I fancy I shall be coming back." The young man spoke slowly. He lookedher squarely in the eyes. Then turning, he followed swiftly after theothers.

  "What did he mean by that?" Rosemary asked herself. A strange thoughtleaped unbidden into her mind. "Supposing the young man took the missingbag and hid it somewhere about the place?

  "Nonsense!" she whispered. "Where could he have hidden it? No one hadbeen outside, absolutely no one. And if he did take it, surely he wouldnot tell me he hoped to return."

  Then a strange fact struck her--the look on this young man's face hadchanged. When she first saw him he had the appearance of one who hadgone through much, who was still haunted by the thought of some greatloss. Now his face was as bland and cheerful as an early spring morning.

  "What am I to make of that?" she asked herself.

  The answer in the end appeared simple enough, "One good night's sleep."This, she knew full well, was capable of working wonders on a young andbuoyant spirit.

  It is strange the manner in which a single incident may change the wholecourse of thought for an entire group. As they resumed their journey toSalt Lake City, no one in the plane discussed economic conditions orchild welfare. No one read. No one wrote or figured. When they spoke itwas in low tones just above the roar of the motors. And Rosemary, thoughshe heard never a word, knew they talked of the dark-faced woman and hermissing bag. "And those who do not talk are thinking of it," she toldherself. "And it _is_ strange! What can have become of that bag?"

  As if reading her thoughts, Danby Force leaned across the aisle to sayin a low distinct tone: "I fancy Santa Claus must have come down thatbroad chimney and carried it off."

  Those were the only words spoken to her until they were nearing theirdestination. Then that strange young man leaned over once more to say:

  "Curious sort of job you've got here! Necessary enough, though. And youfit in very well, I can see that. I am no end grateful for what you didback there in Chicago. You saved the situation for me, you surely did!Hope I may travel with you often. This is my first trip by air, but notthe last--you may be assured of that. I enjoy being carried along bythis--this invisible power." He chuckled. "And I--I like the company, ifyou don't mind my saying it."

  "Not in the least. I've enjoyed knowing you." Rosemary was vexed atherself for saying so trite a thing. Truth was, her mind was stillfilled with that missing bag. That the dark-faced woman would report theloss to the office and that there would be no end of fuss about it, shedid not doubt.

  "I--I'd like to know you better," she added as a kind of after-thought,as she favored Danby Force with a smile.

  "You will," he prophesied, "Oh yes, I am sure you will."

  "And if I don't," she told herself a moment later, "I shan't know muchexcept that he says his name is Danby Force and that he fancies, atleast, that he can be of service to a few thousand people. Well--" shesighed, "that's really something, if it's not pure fancy."

  The landing field at Salt Lake City seemed hot after their rapid glidingdown from the lands of perpetual snow. In spite of this, Rosemary Samplebreathed a sigh of relief. Her journey was over. From this point theparty would break up. She would rest for a few hours, then go soaringback to home base where she was to have two whole days to herself.

  "Guess we'd better stick around for a bit," suggested the pilot. "Thatwoman will be putting in a complaint. We'll have to tell what we know.

  "For that matter, though," he added, "I can't see that we have muchresponsibility in the matter. She refused to leave the bag locked in theplane where it would have been safe. Took the matter in her own hands.T
he bag was in her possession when it disappeared. So--o!" He smiled."That about lets us out. We--

  "Look there!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Even the gypsies are taking to theair."

  At that moment a stout dark-faced woman, wearing the typical gypsy garb,broad, bright-colored skirt and dazzling silk scarf tied about her head,was alighting from a small cabin-type monoplane. The plane was like ahuge dragon fly. It had a bottle-green body and silver wings thatglistened like glass in the sun.

  The stout, dark woman was followed by a girl of some eight years. Andafter her, in a pilot's garb, came a golden-haired girl who did not looka day over eighteen.

  "It's strange!" Rosemary's tone expressed her surprise. "I saw thosesame people in Chicago, just before we took off. And now, here they areright with us."

  "Not so strange," replied the pilot. "That giant bug of hers may bequite speedy. They probably took off later than we did and just in timeto miss the storm.

  "But look!" he exclaimed, "If that sort of thing is allowed to go on,what is to come of this bright new thing we call aviation? There'll be acrack-up every day in the week. The papers will be full of them and noone will dare to travel by air. And all that because of rank amateursand lax regulations. I'm starting an investigation right now."

  "Nice plane you have," he said to the golden-haired girl.

  "Oh yes, but perhaps a little too small." The girl spoke with a pleasingforeign accent.

  "You're not a gypsy?" The veteran pilot smiled in spite of himself.

  "But no." The girl smiled back. "Not entirely. I am French. People callme Petite Jeanne. I was adopted by gypsies in France. Oh so good,Christian gypsies! This lady is Mrs. Bihari, my foster mother."

  "I suppose," said Mark with a laugh, "that you traded a flivver for anautomobile, the auto for a better one, the better one for a poorairplane, the poor plane for a good one?"

  "But no!" The golden-haired girl frowned. "A year ago my own people werefound in France. I had inherited property. This is my very own plane.And see!" She held out a paper. "This is my license to fly."

  "Mind if I take your ship up for a little spin?" Mark said bluntly.

  "But no." The girl spoke slowly. "That is, if I may go, and if she willgo with us." She nodded her head toward Rosemary.

  Rosemary had little desire to fly in a small plane. She had alwaystraveled in the magnificent big bi-motored transportation planes which,she believed, were safe as walking. She had it on the tip of her tongueto refuse, when the girl cast her an appealing look that she could notwell disregard.

  "Yes," she said, "yes, surely I will go."

  Three minutes later they were in the air. Ten minutes later, with a sighof relief Rosemary found her feet once more on the solid earth.

  "You'd be surprised!" Mark whispered enthusiastically. "Never saw abetter equipped plane, nor one in finer condition. That motor is a joy!The radio is perfect. Everything, just everything. If all the amateurswere as careful this world of the air would be one great big joy."

  "Wonderful little plane!" he exclaimed, gripping the little Frenchgirl's hand. "And how wonderfully cared for!"

  "But why not?" The girl showed all her white teeth in a smile. "We gypsypeople have a saying, 'Life is God's most beautiful gift to man.' Thisis true, I am sure. Then why should anyone do less than the very bestthat he might keep that gift?"

  "Why indeed? And thanks for the good word."

  "Do you travel much?" It was a new voice that asked this question. Therather mysterious Danby Force had come up unobserved.

  "Oh yes! We are gypsies. All gypsies travel much," was the girl's reply.

  "Where will you go next?"

  "Over the mountains to Cheyenne."

  "Ah, then you will be going part way back the way we came," Danby Forcesaid. There was an eager note in his voice. "I wonder if it would bepossible for you to take a passenger and to pause for a brief time at asafe landing field?"

  Rosemary started. So Danby Force meant to return. He was going back tothe lodge. Had he, after all, taken the dark-faced lady's bag? Had hehidden it there? Would he return and carry it away? If so, why? Why?Such were the questions that crowded her mind. And she did not likethem. She _did_ like Danby Force. She wanted to believe that he wasincapable of doing a thing dishonest or dishonorable. She had notforgotten his delightful words about God's invisible power in our lives.

  But the little French girl was speaking. "If it will help someone," shewas saying. "We will take you over the mountains and stop at this safeplace you speak of."

  "It will help--help a great deal, I assure you!" Danby Force exclaimed."It may help three thousand people."

  "There it is again," Rosemary thought. "Always speaking of thousands."

  "We might as well get over to the airport," Mark, the pilot, suggestedto Rosemary. "The dark lady has had ample time to lodge her complaint."

  They went, but much to their surprise found that no complaint had beenfiled. What was more, the dark lady had vanished. No one about the placecould tell them how she had gone, nor where.

  "It's the strangest business I ever had anything to do with!" Markgrumbled. "Loses her bag, valuable papers and all, and still nocomplaint. But believe me!" he exclaimed, "we've not heard the last ofthis!" Nor had they.