by E. J. Craine
E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed ProofreadingTeam (https://www.pgdp.net)
THE AIR MYSTERY OF ISLE LA MOTTE
by
E. J. CRAINE
Author of Cap Rock Flyers, The Sky Buddies Secrets Of Cuzko,Flying to Amy-Ran Fastness, etc.
The World Syndicate Publishing Co.Cleveland, Ohio New York, N. Y.
Made in U. S. A.
Copyright 1930byThe World Syndicate Publishing Company
Press ofThe Commercial Bookbinding Co.Cleveland
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This is the first book of the Sky Buddies, Jim Austin and Bob Caldwell and their plane, properly christened "HER HIGHNESS" in which they encounter many thrilling and exciting adventures.
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Contents
I THE STEP-BROTHERS II THE THREE MYSTERIES III THUNDERING WATERS IV A MYSTERIOUS FIND V A DISCOVERY VI A CAPTURE VII A TAIL SPIN VIII ABLAZE IX THE MAIL MUST GO THROUGH X DANGER XI THE CRY FOR HELP XII DETECTIVES
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The Air Mystery of Isle La Motte
I THE STEP-BROTHERS
"I say now, why are you fellows landing here?" The Canadian MountedPoliceman reined in his horse as close to the cock-pit as he could get,and eyed the two occupants in the plane, which had just landed in thesouthern part of the Province of Quebec.
"You want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" theblue-eyed youth in the passenger's seat drawled in an accent that couldbelong to only one part of the world, Texas.
"If you're telling it today," the mounty replied. "If not, we'll get itlater."
"Very true, but you shall have it pronto. From an elevation of threethousand feet we observed you, so we came down to find out if you areriding a real horse, or merely an imitation--"
"It isn't a bad plug," interrupted the pilot, whose eyes were blue andthey rested with approval on the animal that had aroused theircuriosity. "But, if you ever visit Cap Bock, we'll fork you on somethingsuperior--we have a pinto that can--"
"Now, look here, I'm not fooling. You hop out of that and give anaccount of yourselves," the mounty ordered firmly.
"Yes, sir." The two obeyed willingly enough and the man dismounted. Whenthey took off their helmets he saw they were boys, both had tow heads,and they didn't look at all formidable or like a pair he might have toescort to headquarters. However, duty was duty and he wasn't making anysnap judgments or taking needless risks. There was too much smuggling,to say nothing of illegal immigration across the border, and orders werestrict. It was not at all outside possibility that a couple of perfectlyinnocent looking youths might be the tools or employees of some powerfulgang. The fact that they dropped out of the skies in an airplane was initself suspicious.
"I'm Jim Austin, age sixteen years and two months. This is mystep-brother, Bob Caldwell, fifteen years and eleven months," thegrey-eyed boy announced gravely.
"Proud to meet you, sir," Bob bowed, then added. "I'm almost as old ashe is."
"Well, go ahead, get along with the story," the mounty put in morepleasantly. His horse had walked close to the boy and was nosing aboutthe pockets of his aviation coat. Soberly Bob drew forth an apple, brokeit in half and fed the big fellow.
"We were both born with a complete pair of parents on ranches, adjoiningones, along Cap Rock in Texas, but circumstances, over which we had nocontrol removed my mother and Bob's father," Jim explained. "When I wastwelve I discovered that my father was spending a lot of time on theCaldwell ranch and I lay awake nights wondering why a Texas gentlemancouldn't shoot a lady."
"And I planned to set a trap for Mr. Austin and fill him full of lead,"Bob offered. "Give me your apple, Jim." Jim handed it over withouthesitation and it was fed to the horse.
"Then, one day, I happened along by the water-hole and found someGreasers knocking the stuffing out of Bob. We beat them off, and afterthat, I went to the Caldwell's. It was a nice, clean house and Mrs.Caldwell gave me a square meal, woman cooked."
"My mother is the best cook in Texas," Bob offered softly.
"Yes. That night I started to follow my father and I ran into Bob. Werode about and talked it over. Bob's mother wanted him to go to school."
"And Bob didn't want to," the officer suggested solemnly.
"Oh yes I did," Bob replied quickly.
"But a mother, ranch, a string of horses and a pair of blue cranes, is aresponsibility," Jim offered, "Then, we rode to the house--"
"And found his father eating a piece of chocolate cake that I didn'tknow anything about," said Bob.
"And he'd eaten the last crumbs," Jim added. "Then, we told them theywere a pair of boobs. A week later the knots were tied that united theranches and made us step-brothers. We were all at our place--"
"And Bob was to be sent to school?"
"Sure, but his mother said I had to go too," Jim grinned.
"Not so good."
"It was not so bad because his father said that when we finished thecourse, it was four years, we could have an airplane, he'd see that wewere properly instructed in its chauffeuring. We were both hipped aboutflying," Bob answered.
"So we went to the school, did the work in two years and a half, learnedpiloting on the side, then went home and made the old man keep his word.Meet Her Highness," he waved his hand toward the plane which was abeauty.
"I'm glad to," the officer grinned broadly. "Now, tell me what you aredoing here."
"You haven't told us anything about yourself," Bob reminded him.
"Later."
"Bob's mother has a sister, Mrs. Norman Fenton, and she lives on a farmon North Hero Island. In the summer time she takes tourists and callsthe house, Stumble Inn. We came to see a bit of the world and to pay hera visit. Arrived yesterday and this morning took a hop over Britishsoil. We like it even if it isn't Texas."
"That's generous of you. I'm Sergeant Bradshaw on border patrol duty,the horse is Patrick. He was imported from one of the western states,don't know which one, but he was a bloody beast when he was wished onme--"
"Somebody had mistreated him," Bob announced. "He's got a scar on hisleg. Looks like a short-hitch hobble that cut him." The boy stoopedover, took the hoof in his hand and Pat submitted amiably to theinspection.
"Reckon it was done with raw-hide," Jim declared. His fingers gentlymanipulated the old wound and Pat turned his nose about to sniff at theyoungster.
"Pat doesn't usually make friends with strangers. You must have a waywith horses," Sergeant Bradshaw told them.
"We came out of the sky to meet him," Bob reminded the man.
"Dad told us before we started north to make our trip as profitable aspossible by learning all we can. It's against our principles to askimpudent questions, but we should like to know what you have to do," Jimannounced and Bradshaw laughed heartily.
"I have to patrol this territory, watch the roads carefully, and everyplace where smugglers of any kind might try to break across the border.There has been no end of bootlegging--"
"Thought Canada was all wet," Bob grinned.
"The provinces have local option and Quebec went dry, so we have toenforce it, but the rum runners are the least of our troubles, althought
hey are bad enough. There's a lot of objectionable people sneaking into both this country and yours, besides drugs and jewelry. This is apretty wild section and it keeps Pat and me on our toes."
"Noticed from the air it isn't much settled. Didn't know there is somuch open space outside of Texas," Bob said.
"I should think you'd have a plane and you could see what's going on alot better. With the glasses we knew all about what you looked likebefore we came down," Jim remarked.
"There are some planes on the job, but men and horses arenecessary--mighty necessary," the sergeant answered. "The airmen cantell us if anything is moving that is suspicious, but we have to be downhere to get it, unless the outlaws are taking the air."
"Anything special afoot now," Jim inquired.
"You bet there is." Both boys looked at him eagerly. "Our men and yourshave been working for months trying to get something on a gang that hasput it over every time. If we don't make a killing soon, I can see wherethere will be a general shaking up in both forces and a lot of us willbe sent to hoe hay." The officer spoke seriously and the boys listenedwith keen interest.
"Tell you what, we didn't think we'd find anything very exciting so farnorth, but I reckon we'll ooze around here and see what we can pick up.Maybe we can help you. You'll recognize Her Highness if you see hersailing through again, and if we want to communicate with you, we'llcircle around and drop you a message if we can't land. How will you letus know if you receive it O.K.?"
"That's fine of you, Jim, but this is a man-sized job. I appreciate youroffer no end, old top, but your Aunt and Uncle, to say nothing of yourmother and father would come down on me hard if I agreed to let you riskyour necks--"
"The parents are sensible people, we picked them out for that veryreason. They both told us to have a good time, and helping you looks tome like a good time--"
"Besides, what would we risk? All we could do is report to you if we seeanything, and like as not what we see won't be much help because we'reso green. But, if we did see anything real--because we are such a pairof nuts we might put something over for you. We elect ourselves, you'rein the minority, so, if you hear Her Highness, listen, stop, watch. Comeon, Buddy, your aunt was making cherry pies when we left and if we don'tget a move on, some cadaverous tourist is likely to come along and eatevery snitch of it. They are a greedy lot."
"Isn't your aunt the woman who raises such a flock of turkeys?" thesergeant asked.
"Sure, she used to. She has them on Isle La Motte, but last year theydidn't do so well, and she said last night that she isn't having muchluck this spring. It's tough because there is money in turkeys if youcan ever make them grow up," Bob replied.
"I drove down there once and got a couple for my family. They were grandbirds. Come on, Pat."
"You haven't told us yet how we will know that you get our message," Jimreminded him.
"I'll wave my hat, and if I want you to come down, I'll keep it off myhead, but you fellows watch your step and don't go doing anything thatwill get us all into the cooler," he warned.
"We'll look out." They both rubbed Pat's nose, then climbed into thecock-pit of Her Highness, this time Bob took the pilot's seat.
"Need any help?"
"Not a bit, thanks." Bob opened her up, the engine bellowed, thepropeller spun and Her Highness raced forward, lifted her nose as ifsniffing the air, then climbed into it. Jim waved at the man, whowondered if he had not better telephone the Fentons and tell them tokeep the boys out of any trouble. On second thought, he decided againstit. After all, their own air men were watching from above, and as theywere every one of them experts at the game, they would report thingslong before the boys could possibly have their suspicions aroused. Itwould be too bad to spoil their fun, and if they would enjoy keeping aneye on the world, let them do it. They appeared to be a pretty decentpair of kids.
"You almost flew off with them, Old Top," he remarked, giving the horsean affectionate pat, "and only yesterday you bared your teeth and scaredthe wits, what little he has, out of that Canuck. You _are_ adiscriminating old cuss." He leaped into the saddle, but he waited tomake a note of the meeting of the boys and their account of themselves."Even at that they may be stringing me," he remarked a bit uneasily ashe glanced toward the fast disappearing speck in the sky, but hedismissed the thought immediately for he felt confident thestep-brothers were entirely trustworthy.
In the meantime Her Highness climbed in swift spirals for three thousandfeet, then Bob leveled her off, set his course and started toward NorthHero, which is one of many delightful bits of land in Lake Champlain.Presently the boys could see a tiny shack with the British Flag floatingon one side, the Stars and Stripes on the other.
"They look like good pals," Jim said into the speaking tube, and Bobglanced over the side.
"Great pair," he responded. "Not like the border at Texas." He took agood look at the huge lake that stretched out restlessly between NewYork State and Vermont. "We could use that down our way."
"Let's send some of it to Dad. Remember how long it is?"
"One hundred and twenty-eight miles."
"Bigger than the two ranches together." They flew on until they wereflying over the water, and Jim took the glasses to get a better view ofthe historic lake. He picked out Rouse's Point, then on to thepicturesque sections of land whose rocky coasts had defied the poundingwaves. There was Isle La Motte, with it's farms at one end and longwooded stretch at the other where the Fenton's kept their turkeys.Beyond, united by a long bridge was North Hero Island, cut up into smallhomesteads. There were acres of uncultivated land which was now blue andyellow with flowers, groves of cedar, elm and ash, to say nothing ofdelicate green spots that the boys knew were gardens or meadows. Furtheron was Grand Isle, also connected by a bridge, but they were not goingthat far.
"Let's hop down on the turkey end of La Motte," Jim suggested, and Bobnodded. He shut the engine off, let Her Highness glide, and circled fora landing place. "Get on the water." Young Caldwell kicked forward alever which shifted landing wheels to water floats, selected a smoothcove, and in a moment they lighted, splashed and stopped.
"Hey you, get the heck out of here. Get out!" The voice came from backof a fallen tree, and in a moment a huge man whose face was ugly withanger, walked along the dead bole and shook his fist at them. "Get out.You ain't no business around here."
"We just dropped in to have a look at the turkeys," Bob told him."We're--" But Jim stepped on his foot.
"What's the matter?" He broke in quickly. "We're not going to hurtanything. We've never seen a turkey farm and we heard that you have afine one here."
"You're right you're not going to hurt anything, and you're not going tosee this turkey farm. Hear! Now, get out! You're on private property andI'll have the law on you! Don't you see them signs, 'No Trespassing',right there!" He pointed to a large sign hung between two trees and itplainly warned off inquisitive, or interested spectators. "Go on, now,get out."
Bob glanced questioningly at his step-brother. He had started to tellthe caretaker who they were, feeling sure that the information wouldnaturally assure them a very different reception, but for some reason orother, the older boy wanted to withhold the fact. Just then the manbroke off a dry branch, raised it over his head, and prepared to throwit.
"Move out of his range," Jim said tensely. "He might land that in ourpropeller or tail." Bob sent Her Highness scurrying over the water andthe stick fell harmlessly behind the plane.
"The ornery old cuss," Bob growled at the indignity. He whirled theplane about, held her nose low, and set the propeller racing. Instantlyit kicked up a spray of water that shot out on all sides, and before theman could move, he was drenched to the skin.
"Confound your hides," he bellowed, but Her Highness was circling away,then she lifted, climbed swiftly and started homeward. Bob taxied herlow across the two miles of water, and brought her down close to theboat pier, where she "rode at anchor."
"Boys, dinner's ready." Mrs. Fenton, a typical, tall,
slender Vermontwoman, came out onto the back veranda of the old house.
"So are we," Bob shouted. The plane made secure, they raced around thecurve, across the wide, sloping lawn, up the high stairs, and into theliving-room.
"There's basins outside to wash up," Mrs. Fenton told them, and soonthey were splashing the cold water over their faces, and lathering theirhands with the cake of home-made soap.
"Well, you lads get a good look at Vermont?" Mr. Fenton joined them athis own basin. He too was tall and slender, with kindly grey eyes, and abroad smile. Although they had never seen him before until their arrivaltwenty-four hours earlier, they both liked him enormously.
"Corking. She's some state, Uncle Norman!" Bob answered from behind theroller towel.
"She's got a lot of her under water," Jim added.
"Expect you'd like some of that in Texas."
"Surely could use it. Cracky, some of those hot spots would seep it uplike a sponge."
"We could spare a good deal of it," Mr. Fenton told them. "Especiallywhen it's high."
"Does it get much higher than it is now?" Jim asked.
"It has swelled up fifteen feet more, then it does some flooding, butthat doesn't happen often, not so far north, but we get plenty. Well,come on in. Hope you didn't leave your appetites in the sky."
"We did not."
"I will take the milk now, sir." The boys turned quickly at the voice,which was deep and musical, and saw a tall, powerfully built man, whoseskin and eyes were dark. He wore the usual overalls, a tan shirt open atthe throat, and carried himself more like a person of importance than aworking man or a farmer.
"All right, Corso. Here it is waiting for you." Mr. Fenton handed down acovered pail.
"I thank you, sir," Corso replied with dignity.
"Your nephew is doing an interesting job on that mud hole. The boy is agood worker."
"He is learning. We thank you." The man accepted the pail of milk andwalked away swiftly. The boys noted that he was amazingly light on hisfeet for a man of his size.
"Is he a Vermonter, Uncle Norman?" Bob asked as they made they way tothe dining room where the table would have groaned if it had not beenaccustomed to such a bounteous load.
"No, he isn't. I really don't know where he comes from, Bob, and myguess is Spain, although I'm probably miles off on that. He and hisyoung nephew, a boy about thirteen, or perhaps a little older, rented ashack a mile or so up the shore; they paid several months in advance.Seem to spend their time walking, or on the lake, and I believe I'mabout the only person, on North Hero Island Corso talks with, and hedoesn't say very much to me. I've seen the boy, of course, but I don'tknow if he can speak English or not, I've never heard him."
"He's a nice looking boy," Mrs. Fenton put in.
"Ever since they came your aunt has longed to get her motherly hands onhim," Mr. Fenton laughed.
"He needs a woman to look after him, see that he gets proper food andplenty of it. He's as thin as a stick, and I know he was sick thisspring. I did make Corso take some puddings and jellies to him," sheannounced.
"They sound like an interesting pair," Jim remarked.
"Well, they are, but they mind their own business, and we Vermontersmind ours. How about it, light meat or dark, Jim?"
"Dark, please."
"What is the boy doing with the mud hole?" Bob wanted to know, for a mudhole didn't sound very promising.
"I don't know what it will be like when he gets finished but I'm keen tosee. It's a strip about two and a half acres wide, and five long, thathas always been a dead loss for cultivation. It comes between my alfalfameadow and the garden; dips down low and toward the middle is quite ahole. The place catches all the rain and hangs on to it all through thehottest months. I had an expert here to drain it several years ago, hesunk some pipes, and although he did get the water off, more came backinside of a few weeks, and it was full after the first rain storm. Theland is very fertile, and if I could use it, I would raise bumpercrops."
"Shame you can't."
"Yes, it is. Corso came to me early this spring, some weeks ago, andasked if I would rent it to him, and permit him to dig and do anythinghe wanted to with it. He assured me he would do it no harm, nor thesurrounding patches. I told him it wasn't good for anything, but heseemed to want it, so I let him have it. He and the boy spend a greatdeal of time there, and they have hauled a lot of rocks from the shore.You probably noticed the edge of the lake, except around the cliffs, isall small flat stones, not very brittle, but not so soft as soap-stone."
"Sure, we were looking at them last night. Some have pink and whitestreaks, like marble, and are pretty. I'd like to send a box to Mom forthe garden walks. She'd be pleased to pieces to have them."
"They have taken several loads of them and some very large stones. Afterdinner you might walk over and see what you make out of the work so far.I can't make head or tail of it. A few days ago they planted corn, rightin the mud, and in each hole they put a minnow they scooped out of thelake."
"Why put fish in, do they expect to raise sardines?" Jim laughed.
"Can't say," Mr. Fenton answered.
"It's some heathen notion I know." Mrs. Fenton announced positively."Are you getting enough to eat, Bob?"