“I’m telling the cock-eyed world that we are landing on the turkey farm and somebody’s going to talk turkey. It won’t be us,” Bob declared.
“Atta boy. You know, Buddy, we agreed with what that boy said just because we’ve been suspicious of Hezzy all along, but we couldn’t convince your uncle nor any of the Selectmen on anything as thin as that. We’ve got to get something on the fellow; something no one will be able to think isn’t real proof.”
“That’s right,” Bob acknowledged. “It’s getting kind of late. Suppose we drop down there. If Hezzy’s around we can get the lay of things, and maybe find evidence enough so Uncle Norman can act on it. We’ll have to be mighty careful, or Burley will be suspicious.”
“We might say we need a little gas, that our tanks are empty,” Jim suggested. “And ask about the dog, if he’s getting over that sickness.”
“Yes, that’s the idea. I’ve been wondering—if Hezzy is getting away with the turkeys, he wouldn’t want a good watch dog around. I’ve got a kind of hunch we’d better be ready to act with a snap.”
“Suits me. Let her go.” Bob opened the throttle and presently they were in the air, each thinking soberly of what might be before them. As Jim recalled the weird experiences of the afternoon and the interview with the foreign boy, it all seemed mighty unreal, but he had to admit that the emerald ring on his middle finger was not a dream, and the jewel in his shirt pocket pressed against his chest was substantial enough. The air was heavy with clouds that hung low, and the boy knew that another storm was brewing. He hoped it wouldn’t be a bad one, for the Vermonters had already suffered terrific loss because of the late rains and the flooding lake which was sweeping everything before it. Looking down he could see the thrashing waves, and the whimsical idea came to him that the lake was determined to go somewhere.
“A river has more fun,” he grinned to himself. Bob’s mind was fully occupied with his job of piloting, but it did not take long to cross Champlain. It was dark enough now so that homes were being lighted up. The bright window squares began to look like jewels suspended on a rapidly darkening background. In a little while night would be upon them. As they approached Isle La Motte they were riding five thousand feet up, and suddenly Jim noticed two other planes flash through the clouds from the north. He wondered if it was their friend the mail pilot, but the hour was not right, and besides there would not be two. He touched Bob on the arm, and pointed.
“There’s a couple of planes.” Bob picked them out a moment later, then both boys sat tense and astonished as they noticed that the flying machines were circling above the eastern side of the turkey farm. Through breaks in the mist the boys saw that the machines were both large ones, big enough to carry considerable freight or several passengers. Why they should be maneuvering through the clouds above Isle La Motte was puzzling, so Bob, as he watched them, guided Her Highness in a wide circle a thousand feet higher. He was confident their presence would not be observed or heard as long as the other engines were racing. Keeping the planes within their range of vision was difficult, and several times they lost sight of them, but succeeded in picking them up again. Jim had his eyes fast to the glasses, and suddenly he made out a man standing upright on one of the wings. A second man jumped out of the cock-pit and joined the first, then a third and a fourth got on to the other side of the fuselage. It took an instant for the boy to guess what they were going to do, then he shouted.
“They are going to jump!”
“Over the lake.”