“Sure Mike.” Bob took his place beside his step-brother, adjusted himself, and in a minute Jim opened the throttle, the engine bellowed a challenge to the world, or a joyous roar that it was about to do something worth watching. Up they climbed a thousand feet, circled above North Hero, and as Bob glanced over the side, he caught glimpses of children and farmer folk staring at them. He waved gaily, then Her Highness leveled off and shot northwest.
“Going to have a look about Isle La Motte?” Bob asked through the speaking tube.
“No. If the thief is there I want him to think that we are not interested in looking for him,” Jim answered, then added. “I’m more interested in seeing if we can find Bradshaw.”
“Any special reason?”
“Not one.” Jim answered emphatically.
They sped toward the boundary and both boys were filled with delight at being in the air. Bob kept the glasses to his eyes and every once in a while would point out something attractive so his step-brother would miss none of the delights of the trip. Jim did not wish to go straight north, so he bore westward, following the American side of the border and after an hour, circled about and returned pretty much along the same course. Once they saw a passenger plane soaring majestically south, and then they spied the mail-pilot racing toward them, so they went to meet him. The young fellow in the cock-pit eyed them for a moment but when they grinned and waved, he waggled his wings as a return salute. He seemed such a jolly sort that Jim came about and taxied along beside him for a while, then with a farewell wave, he spiraled high and circled away, the U. S. plane thundering toward Montreal.
“We ought to locate Bradshaw soon,” Bob remarked as they were nearing the territory which their Mounty friend patrolled, and Jim nodded. The younger boy searched the rolling globe beneath them. Through the glasses he could see tiny homesteads, miles of unsettled stretches broken only by a rough road, and an occasional traveler scooting along in a car or seeming to crawl behind a team of horses.
“The place we picked up Bradshaw is about a mile ahead,” Jim remarked, and this time Bob nodded assent. He paid even greater attention to his observations, and once he picked up something that puzzled him. It was a wooded ravine, the sides of which rose steeply and were bristling with overhanging rock. The boy guessed that it was the bed of a stream, but the water had either dried up or been diverted through another outlet. He followed its winding course, and calculated that it must be several miles long and extended well across the borders into the two countries. Twice he thought he saw something moving about, then he looked more sharply for he thought it might be a bear. In a moment more he discovered that it was a man, two of them in fact and they were making their way warily as if anxious to escape detection.
“Slow up a bit Buddy and zig-zag. I want to see this place.” Jim nodded, reduced the speed, zoomed high and spiraled as if he were reaching for the ceiling, then dropped, and all the while Bob kept his eyes on that deep ravine.
“Spot anything, Buddy?”