“He’s always up to some mischief!” growled Ben.
“Well, if he’s going sailing around over the mountains in broad daylight,” Carl suggested, “we may as well go up to San Francisco and bring down a band. A brass band wouldn’t give us any more prominence in the community, and it might be more amusing.”
“Oh, the boy always has some fairly good reason for what he does,” defended Ben, chuckling inwardly at the daring of his chum, “but I wish he’d tell us a little more about his plans before he makes such breaks. It would take the strain off a little!” he added.
From the valley in which the Bertha lay the boys could not, of course, see what was taking place until the Louise was high up above the lower summits, with the third aeroplane in full pursuit.
“Now, what do you think of that?” demanded Carl. “That fool boy has found the crook’s machine, and the chances are that he’ll be sorry he did it before the day is over!”
“Oh, well,” Ben replied, “we’ll have to wait and see what comes of this absurd trip. Perhaps we’d better be getting something to eat, so as to be ready for a flight if the boy should need assistance.”
While the two were eating a hastily prepared meal, an exclamation of astonishment came from the vicinity of the Bertha, and they both sprang to their feet and chased off in that direction.
At first no one could be seen, then a figure crawled slowly out from under the planes and stood upright.
“The Chink!” exclaimed Ben.
“Now, I wonder how he found his way here?” Carl questioned.