The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Julia K. Duncan

  There they found he could not go back to Marchton with them that night. He had already made arrangements to stay at a hotel until the next day for a further talk with the man he had come to see.

  “May I stay too?” Gale asked eagerly.

  But her father refused, as she had expected him to do. She was to fly back with Brent as had been planned. Mr. Howard accompanied them to the plane.

  Gale had asked Brent to circle over the city and fly over a little more of Canada before setting his course southward. Now as the plane streaked over the ground and rose into the blackness of the clouds Gale watched with interest the scene below her. Lights flickered on and off. She noticed the stars overhead had disappeared. The moon was hidden behind clouds and the air was much colder. Gale huddled down in the cockpit and was thankful for her woolly coat, but she could have stood even more.

  It was while the plane was flying toward the north, away from Quebec, Brent trying to satisfy Gale’s longing to see more of Canada even at night, that the storm struck them. Brent, before he took off, had felt a little consternation about the unnatural darkness of the sky and the hint of storm in the air, but he had felt confident of his plane to ride it out. However, he had not counted on such uncontrollable fury or the suddenness with which the storm was upon them. One moment they had been flying calmly and the next they were in a sea of trouble, being tossed about like a toy balloon. The motor turned rhythmically. Brent felt sure they would come through the storm all right, but just the same he wished Gale was either with her father or safe at home.

  Idly he looked at the instruments on the board. His light revealed an alarming fact. The gas needle was dangerously near to the empty point. Was the instrument broken or was the tank really that near empty? He tapped the glass on the indicator but the needle did not vary.

  Suddenly the plane lurched heavily and turned over and over, going into a spin. A down current of air had caught him unaware and for a few moments the earth rushed up to meet them with terrific speed. Gale wondered frantically what was the matter, but soon Brent straightened out and the nose of the ship pointed gently upward. He would try to get above the storm before heading south. If the storm was all along the coast he preferred to keep away from that direction, no sense in being swept out to sea!

  Gale, in the rear cockpit, could have no inkling of the turmoil that was going on in Brent’s mind. She was nervously clinging to the edge of the seat, wiping the rain from her face, and endeavoring at the same time to get a glimpse of the ground below them. The lights, now, were gone from sight. No more did they twinkle on and off like stars. She looked above and around her. Even the heavens were black—no friendly star or moon. She wished for one second that she had insisted on staying with her father in Quebec or rather still that she had never come to Canada at all! But then she reconsidered. It had been no end of fun flying up with her father and Brent. And it was thrilling to be flying back alone with Brent. She had not had much chance for private conversation with him ever since that night at the airport. She still felt embarrassed when she thought of it. But he had been so nice and she had had quite a crush on him! In fact, she admitted to herself reluctantly, she still had and he was still nice! The very next day when she had gone with Phyllis to the airport to talk over the previous excitement he had acted as though they had never said a word. But she had not been able to pass it by so easily. Mortification enveloped her every time she thought of it.

  She noticed with alarm, now, that the motor had stopped. They were gliding in a gentle spiral toward the ground. She strained her eyes through the darkness, trying to see ahead to Brent.

  The pilot was bent anxiously over his instruments. His first fear was realized. The gas tank was empty. The man at the field where they had landed had not filled it for the return trip. Brent blamed himself for not determining before they ever took off whether there was enough gas to take them back to Marchton. Now what would happen?

  His question was soon answered. They hit another air current in the midst of the storm. This time the plane could not pull out of the spin into which it had fallen. Over and over they turned. Parachutes, if they had had them, would have been of no avail in the fury of the elements.

  Gale braced her feet and held securely to both sides of the cockpit. She shut her eyes and waited breathlessly.

  Up ahead Brent was working frantically to bring the plane down in a glide, but it was no use. He looked over the side and wished he could see upon what they were going to crash.

  The crash came with a loud splintering and rending of canvas and wood. Overhead the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, but on the earth all was silent, except for the whistle of the wind and patter of the rain. The plane lay crushed like a bird brought low by a triumphant hunter. The wheels were sticking grotesquely up into the air, the tail mangled and the wings crumpled like paper.

  For a long, long while, until the storm had almost wasted its fury, there was no stirring of life about the plane. At last a brown jacketed arm appeared and Brent slid from the front cockpit. He had landed on his face when he fell from the plane, and now with difficulty he got to his feet. Stumbling in the darkness he felt his way to the cockpit in the rear where Gale was.

  The plane had crashed in a forest and now as Brent tried to extricate Gale from the wreckage of the plane he could not. The limb of a tree which had been torn off by the impact of the plane lay squarely across the fuselage, effectively pinning Gale in her seat. Vainly Brent pulled and tugged at the limb, but he could not move it. Queer pains were shooting through his shoulder and he felt strangely lightheaded.

  Brent stepped back and leaned heavily against a tree while he tried to see through the darkness. He must get help! There was nothing else to do. He took a few steps away from the wreck and saw faintly in the distance the flickering of a light. He started toward it, determined to make as fast time as possible. The ground was muddy, and he could not see where he was going. Several times he stumbled into muddy holes and fell headlong over low lying logs.

  Once when he thought he had come quite a distance he stopped. The light was gone. On each side of him was nothing but darkness. Undaunted, Brent spurred himself on. The thought of Gale behind him lent him fortitude. He didn’t know how many hours it was since they had crashed. He should have reached that light by this time. Unless—the thought gave him pause. Suppose it had been a car on a road in the distance. It might not have been a house after all! After a brief rest he continued on his way. Sooner or later he must come to civilization!

  CHAPTER XI

  The Search

  At the corner bus-stop the yellow and green vehicle emitted eight young people who immediately scattered in different directions to their homes. Phyllis went off with David and Janet, while Carol went in the opposite direction with Madge and Peter Arnold. Valerie and Bruce walked slowly toward Gale’s house. It was their intention to see why she had not appeared at the airport and also to discover if she knew where Brent Stockton was.

  As they stopped at the Howard gate they met Mr. Howard just arriving from the opposite direction.

  “How was the air-meet?” were his first words.

  “Marvelous!” Valerie declared.

  “Did Mr. Stockton’s plane win the race?” he asked next as he latched the gate after the three of them.

  “Yes,” Bruce said, “his plane won, but if Stubby hadn’t flown it, it wouldn’t have.”

  “What was the matter with Brent?” Mr. Howard asked in surprise. “I thought he was to fly it himself?”

  “He hasn’t been at the airport all day,” Bruce explained.

  “But why not?” Mr. Howard wanted to know.

  “That is what we want to find out,” Valerie put in. “He brought you back from Quebec last night, didn’t he?”

  Mr. Howard frowned thoughtfully. “No, he didn’t. I came back today on the train. I’m just coming from the station now.”

  “Then Gale is with you?” Bruce asked.

  “No. She start
ed back last night with Brent in his plane.”

  “But where is she?” Valerie demanded. “I certainly thought she would be at the races today.”

  “Haven’t you seen either her or Brent since the take-off yesterday?” Mr. Howard wanted to know in a worried voice.

  The young people had to admit that they hadn’t.

  “Gale is probably in the house somewhere,” Valerie said after a moment. “Something might have kept her home.”

  “But Brent—” Bruce said uneasily.

  The three of them went toward the house. The honeysuckle vine gave off a sweet, heavy scent in the late afternoon air. Bruce seated himself on the banister while Valerie sank down on the swing and idly rocked back and forth. Mr. Howard went immediately into the house. Valerie picked up a magazine and turned the pages while they waited. Bruce whistled in a low tone under his breath. It was quite a while before Mr. Howard reappeared. When he did his face wore an unusually grave expression.

  “Where’s Gale?” Valerie asked immediately, sensing that something was wrong.

  “I wish I knew,” Gale’s father replied heavily. “We’ll have to notify the authorities immediately.”

  “What for?” Bruce interposed.

  “To find them. Gale and Brent took off last night. They haven’t arrived back here. Something must have happened—a crash.”

  “How terrible!” Valerie whispered in awe.

  There was a short, charged silence. They could not readily grasp the fact of a crash—yet that must have been what happened. The races had meant so much to Brent and also to Gale that it must have been an accident that delayed them. There could be no other reason.

  That day was but the first in the long days of anxiety and mystery. The rest of the afternoon was spent in setting in motion the wheels that would find the two who had vanished into the sky. Bruce stayed with Mr. Howard while Valerie went off to notify the other Adventure Girls of what they were afraid had happened.

  It was at the Kopper Kettle, gathered as usual to spend an hour or so before dinner in talking, that Bruce found them with the news. The Adventure Girls with David and Peter were discussing Marchton’s chances in the next football game when Bruce appeared. Immediately all thought of sport was dispensed.

  “Have you learned anything?” Valerie asked before Bruce had even time to seat himself among them.

  “Yes,” he said slowly.

  “What?” Phyllis asked anxiously.

  “The plane is smashed—a complete wreck.”

  “And Gale and Brent?” Carol put in.

  “Brent is in a hospital nursing a fractured shoulder and a couple broken ribs,” Bruce replied.

  “And Gale—what about her?” Janet insisted.

  “That is what is so strange,” Bruce said slowly, reluctantly. “Gale has disappeared.”

  “Disappeared!” the others echoed. “But how—where—”

  “Mr. Howard talked to Brent on the telephone,” Bruce continued with his tale. “After the crash last night, when Brent could drag himself free of the wreckage, he started out to find help. He thought he saw a light in the distance and made for that. The sleet and snow was thick and fast. He couldn’t go very swiftly, the ground was uneven and it was pitch dark but he kept on going as best he could. He knew he must come to something eventually. He had left Gale pinned in her seat by the branch of a tree which was too heavy for him, hurt as he was, to move.”

  Bruce paused and not a sound came from the others. They were hanging breathlessly onto his every word.

  “At last he saw a house ahead of him. He hurried forward but all his knocking on the door brought no one. He turned away and went on. Later he came to another place. By now he was worn out completely. He could hardly stand. He could do no more than stumble up to the door. The last he recalls was leaning against the door and as it gave way, of falling into the dark room beyond.”

  “Go on,” in a faint whisper Janet voiced the feelings of all of them.

  “Well, the next thing he knew he was in the hospital. The people who lived in the house he had come to had taken him there. At once he sent out a party to the plane, but when they got there Gale was gone.”

  “No wonder,” Carol said. “It must have been hours after he left that the rescue party arrived.”

  Bruce nodded and was silent.

  “And they don’t know where Gale is?” Phyllis declared, rather than asked.

  “No,” Bruce continued. “It had snowed a lot after the wreck and all around the plane the snow was unbroken. No footsteps to show how she had gotten out or in what direction she had gone.”

  “What are they going to do?” David wanted to know.

  “Keep on looking for her I suppose,” Bruce sighed. “As soon as Brent can leave the hospital he says he is going to join the hunt.”

  “He should,” Janet declared. “I wish I could. How long will it be before he gets out?”

  “He says he is going to leave tomorrow. He insists the doctors can strap his ribs so he won’t hurt himself by walking around. Of course he won’t be able to fly because of his shoulder and all—but at least he will be up there at the scene of the crash.” Bruce’s voice told them there was nothing he would like better than to be there also.

  When the young people broke up their gathering it was to go home subdued and quietly thoughtful, hoping every minute for some word of Gale’s safety. It had been arranged that the minute Bruce heard anything he was to telephone Valerie. Valerie would in turn phone Janet and so on. The word would be relayed from one to the other. But the telephones remained silent—all that night, the next day and many days after.

  School went on as usual, and after school were the football games, basketball, or their meetings at the Kopper Kettle. But in all there was something missing and they knew it was the sunny presence of Gale. Gale had been one of the most popular girls in the school and expressions of sympathy came not only from the students but from the faculty as well.

  On the third day of the unsuccessful search a plane with two passengers landed at the Marchton airport. Brent had had to secure another to pilot him and while Stubby made friends with the new pilot Brent went in to Marchton to Gale’s home. After a long talk with the girl’s parents he went to the Kopper Kettle to meet the other young people. They welcomed him eagerly, hopefully, but he could tell them nothing new.

  Phyllis regarded the young aviator with thoughtful eyes. Brent was paler, he seemed taller too, now, with his right arm in a sling, his shoulder thick under bandages and his tweed coat, his eyes darkened with worry.

  “You can find nothing,” she said again.

  “Nothing,” he replied hopelessly. “The snow is so deep up there in some parts that we can’t get about very easily. There are lots of out of the way farms to which she might have wandered.”

  “But surely the people would have notified the authorities,” Bruce put in.

  “I suppose so,” Brent admitted.

  “Besides,” added Janet, “how did she get out of the plane? If the branch that pinned her into the seat was too heavy for you to lift, certainly she couldn’t have.”

  Brent shook his head. “I don’t know where she is, but I’ve got to find her. I blame myself for the whole mess.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Valerie said quickly and the others agreed with her. “You couldn’t tell the storm would come up or that you would run out of gasoline.”

  “But I should never have left her in the plane!” Brent said restlessly.

  “You had to get help,” Bruce said. “You thought you were doing the best thing. It was the only thing—”

  “I know,” Brent said hastily, “but just the same—” he stood up. “I’ve got to get back to the airport. We are flying up again tonight, but I’ll be back in a day or two—to let you know how things are going.”

  “Do you think I might be able to help up there?” Bruce asked eagerly.

  Brent looked at him. “Honestly I don’t. There are hundreds of people
looking for her—police, newspaper men and all. Everyone knows about Gale—it was in all the papers and broadcast on the radio. I don’t believe there are three people within a radius of hundreds of miles that haven’t seen her picture in the newspapers or heard about her. Sooner or later something will come to light.”

  “Sooner or later,” Phyllis echoed drearily.

  “You will tell us the minute you learn anything,” Valerie pleaded.

  “Of course,” Brent said with an attempt to be cheerful. “And I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. I’m positive Gale will turn up all right. Anyway, I’ll be down again in a few days. Meanwhile, perhaps you can think of something that might help in the search.”

  Brent went off to the airport, with an attempt to leave a brightened atmosphere behind him, but his attempt had failed. The others were more mystified than ever about what had happened to their missing member.

  “I’ve always liked to solve puzzles,” Carol declared, “but this has me stumped! What on earth could have become of her? If everyone has seen her picture in the papers as he says, why haven’t we heard something?”

  “You know the old saying ‘No news is good news’ so maybe we should be glad we haven’t heard anything,” David put in.

  “But the suspense is terrible,” Janet sighed. “I have to write a composition for English tomorrow—I think I will make it the ‘Dangers of Flying.’”

  “Flying is no more dangerous than driving an automobile,” Peter put in scornfully. “Airplanes have saved hundreds of lives. Look at the time that aviator flew that serum to those Eskimos up north.”

  “And the time last winter when airplanes dropped food to people stranded in their homes by blizzards and unable to drive miles to the nearest town for food,” from David.

  “They are as safe as anything else nowadays,” declared Phyllis.

  “Maybe so,” Janet said, unconvinced.

  “You can have breakfast one morning in New York and the next in California,” added Valerie. “Think of it!”

  “I’m thinking of it,” Janet said. “So what?”