“Well, we can’t keep them from dying off, that’s a cinch,” Jim answered. “Let’s take Her Highness and have a look over the place.”
“Right-O, old man.” They turned about away from the destructive waters and hurried as fast as the clumsy boots would permit, to the carriage house, where they floated the plane out, closed the door after them, and piled into the cock-pit. “Got enough gas?”
“Plenty.”
Presently Her Highness was thundering above the lake and after a few circles over the land, which gave the boys an idea of the havoc being wrought among the islands, Jim headed her toward the end of Isle La Motte and in a few minutes they were cruising at low speed above the turkey farm. It too had suffered from the rain, but its buildings were located on high ground which was well drained so that even now it was drying rapidly. The boys could see the turkeys in the run-ways and they knew that until the vicinity was no longer drenched, the delicate birds could not be allowed to roam in the larger pens. As there seemed to be nothing special they could learn, they proceeded to fly across the property, and soon they were above the section where they had seen the men hiking the first day they had attempted to visit Hezzy. Just beyond the strip of forest, which was quite dense, they saw a long, comparatively bare slope toward the opposite side of the Isle and they easily discerned several men moving about as if they were working.
“There’s more turkeys,” Jim remarked through the tube and Bob nodded that he could see them.
“Probably they are fixing a place on this side because it’s more sheltered,” the younger boy suggested. “I see Hezzy down there.” Sure enough the farm’s foreman was striding along the edge of the meadow. He paused suddenly, glanced up at them, then disappeared quickly among the trees.
“I suspect that he doesn’t like us,” Jim grinned, and Bob laughed heartily.
“Sometime we’ll come over and tell him we want to help catch the thieves,” the younger boy suggested.
“Let’s hop down now. We can land on that field.”
“We’d better not. We might land on some small birds,” Bob replied, and Jim agreed that probably it would be safer to wait and have their talk with Hezzy at the house. As there didn’t seem to be much more to see the boys rode on, across to the New York side of Champlain, and before they decided to return they were overtaken by the mail plane. Bob, who was at the controls, waggled his wings, and instantly the other pilot responded. He grinned as he flew by, and they waved as if he were an old friend.