“But why?” asked Dot, incredulously.
“I saw your rotors, the first time I passed over you. And knew it was the autogiro. And thought that girl was piloting it, of course. How did you girls ever get hold of it again?”
“Then you didn’t get the report from the Los Angeles headquarters?” inquired Linda.
“What report?”
“That we exchanged planes. My double stole our Sky Rocket, and left us the Ladybug instead.”
“And got away with it?” demanded Chase.
“Yes. We’re still after them. But where have you been in the meanwhile?”
“Flying around these mountains, without any touch of civilization. I even made a search on foot, but it proved to be a false clue that I was following. But tell me the story, while we take a walk over and examine my poor ship.”
Briefly Dot related the facts of the night-adventure with Sprague and his wife, as the three young fliers approached the burning mass. The flames had somewhat subsided, and only a smoking, blackened frame remained.
“Was it yours, Mr. Chase?” asked Linda sympathetically, thinking how dreadful she would feel if it were the Ladybug.