“I don’t know. You have a look, but be careful. Wouldn’t that ravine down there be a corker place for bootleggers or smugglers to go sneaking from one side to the other? I see some men there now. What do you think?” Jim was already scrutinizing the place.
“Yes it would, but it’s too big for the patrol men to have overlooked,” Jim answered. “That old road runs pretty close to it. Law-breakers would keep out of a place like that.”
“They might not just because it looks so inviting. They might figure they could get away with it because it’s so easy, and they’d have it fixed up. See those fellows?” Jim nodded, and by that time he was keenly interested. He not only saw the two men, but further along he picked up two more who seemed to be hiding in the underbrush, and not far away he espied a two-wheel cart, which was painted green.
“Great guns, we’ve got to find Bradshaw and tell him. He may give us the ha-ha, but just the same, that’s no ordinary bunch down there, and the men are not even smoking cigarettes. Here.” He handed the glasses back to the younger boy. “Be careful no one notices that you are watching them,” he warned tensely. He kicked the rudder, shot Her Highness’ nose into the air, zoomed higher, and five minutes later, Bob caught his arm and nodded toward the land.
“Bradshaw is down there on the road! He’s about five miles, I guess, from where I first saw that ravine, and it ends just a little way below him. Two fellows crawled up after he had passed, got on horses and separated, and Jim, they are following the Mounty, one on each side, as if they are watching him. They are just jogging along as if they are on old plugs, and Jim—there, oh gosh, there are two more coming out a mile ahead on the road.” Bob was so excited that he could hardly speak steadily.
“Are they laying for him?” Jim asked tensely.
“I think they are. Come on, do something, and do it quick, for they are all trotting in close. I think he hears the ones behind, because he’s turning around—Jim—” Jim looked over the side, and just ahead he could see the drama being enacted two-thousand feet beneath him.
“Hang on to your teeth,” he roared.
With a swift flop he turned Her Highness’ nose toward the earth, and with the engine bellowing he came tearing out of the sky. After the first second he shut off the motor, made it cough and sputter, and the plane began to spin and twist, tail first, then nose first. Both boys tried to watch what was taking place beneath them, and Jim’s heart almost stopped beating as he saw that the Mounty was concentrating his whole attention on them. Even Pat had his eyes upward at the startling spectacle of a gyrating airplane that promised to be kindling wood in a few seconds. On they raced, and as they came, Austin saw that two of the outlaws were galloping swiftly, rifles on their arms, toward their prey. They seemed to have thrown caution to the winds and were taking advantage of the commotion above them to complete their wicked crime.
Bob clutched his step-brother’s arm as he too took in the scene, but Jim was not unmindful of their own danger and one eye was on the altitude meter. At five hundred feet he took the controls, started the engine and lifted Her Highness’ nose, then went on into a glide that brought them, a moment later, to a scant two feet of the snorting Patrick and the indignant Mounty. But before the man could utter a protest, Jim bellowed defiantly.