Walker called to her again. This time she answered. His relief was as great as hers. She was alive. His hunch was right! He too beat upon the door with all his strength, pulled and pushed, but to no avail. Then he and the pilots got a beam and rammed it into the unresisting blockade. After what seemed hours, the door moved on its hinges, then gave way and Walker found Nan, the pluckiest little girl in the world he said later, unharmed by her experience.
“But Mr. Jamieson,” Nan questioned him as the plane he had brought took to the air with the pilots and the other prisoners, the woman and child, “how did you guess what had happened?”
He didn’t hear her at first. He was already busy planning the release on the tale he had pieced together.
The lead—“Plucky Nan Sherwood Found Alive in Deserted Shack in Wilderness. Gang of smugglers exposed in daring attempt to take plane load of Chinese across the border.”
Sounded good, he was thinking, but they really hadn’t been exposed as yet. He knew how they worked, but he didn’t know who they were. He turned now to Nan to see if he could find a clue.
“What did the men who imprisoned you look like?” he questioned her.
Nan described them briefly.
“Did you hear or see anyone besides the people you saw in the plane?” he questioned.
Nan hadn’t, but as he talked she had an inspiration. “Oh, I know, maybe I can help you!” she exclaimed. Then she told him of the pictures she had snapped before boarding the transport.
The rest of the plane ride was a dash toward a place where the pictures could be developed. One by one they were brought forth from the developing fluid, until it seemed as though the inspiration had not been such a fortunate one after all. But Walker didn’t give up. It was the last one that brought the desired results.