“Let’s eat up eberything in de house, so de rest ob de people will starve to def; de willain dat done dat will be among ’em and dat’s de way we’ll get eben wid him.”
“You might be able, Bunk, to carry out your plan, but I couldn’t give you much help. Come on and I’ll try to think out what is the best thing to do.”
The second descent of the boys was a contrast to their first. They showed little or no trace of agitation, as they walked into the dining-room and sat down at the long table where three other guests had preceded them. Harvey was so disturbed that he ate only a few mouthfuls, but hardly less than an earthquake would have affected the appetite of his companion.
In turning over in his mind the all-absorbing question, Harvey Hamilton could think of only one explanation. He believed the destruction of his aeroplane was due to simple wantonness, for many a man and boy do mischief just because it is mischief and they know such action is wrong on their part. It was impossible that he should have an enemy in this country town. It might be the guilty one or ones were actuated by an unreasoning jealousy or a superstitious belief that the strange machine was likely to inflict evil upon the community.
Something like this we say was his theory, though he was not entirely rid of a vague belief that some other cause might exist. This was an occasion when he needed the aid of the detective, Simmons Pendar, who was not in the dining-room nor had he seen him about the hotel. In the hope of discovering his friend Harvey strolled into the sitting-room and took the seat he had occupied the day before. The man in gray was invisible, as were the two foreign looking individuals who were under suspicion by the officer.
The question which the young aviator was asking himself was as to the right course for him to follow. Deprived in this summary fashion of his air machine, he was without power of giving Pendar any help in his attempt to recover little Grace Hastings from the kidnappers. Any essay on his part in that direction, now that he was confined to earth, was sure to hinder more than to aid.
He was still in a maze of perplexity when Bohunkus came ponderously to his feet and started through the door connecting with the hall which led up stairs. Harvey naturally looked up to learn why he did so. With the door drawn back and the negro in the act of stepping across the threshold, he turned his head, grinned and winked at his friend. Then he passed out, closing the door behind him, and the mystified Harvey heard his muffled footsteps along the hall and ascending the stairs.
“What can he be driving at?” Harvey asked himself; “that wink looked as if it was an invitation for me to follow him.”
Thus early in the day the two were the only ones in the sitting-room, so that no one could have noticed the action of the two. Nor is it easy to understand why Bohunkus should have relied upon a wink of the eye, when it was as easy and would have been much clearer had he used his gift of speech; but we know how fond his race are of mystery.
When Harvey reached the top of the stairs, where the view was unobstructed along the hall, he saw Bunk standing at his door, as if waiting for him. The space between the two was such that this time the dusky youth instead of winking flirted his head. Then he stepped into Harvey’s room and stood just beyond the partially open door and awaited his friend.