“She dropped into a hole in the air and the aviator was killed,” replied the boy gravely.
Harris sprang to his feet with a muffled oath and paced up and down in front of the tent for some time without speaking. When he returned to the boy’s side his face wore an expression blended between suspicion and dismay. Carl remained silent until the man spoke again.
“Is that right?” Harris asked. “Are you telling me the truth?”
“Sure, I’m telling you the truth!” replied the boy. “The aviator fell into a hole in the air and didn’t know how to get out of it. We made a shallow grave and piled about a ton of rock on top of it. If you want to get the body we’ll show you where it is any time.”
“Do you know,” Harris began rather angrily, “I hardly believe this story about the man falling into a hole in the air! Are you sure he didn’t come to his death as the result of a conflict with some member of your party?”
“You don’t think we murdered him, do you?” demanded Carl.
“Oh, I didn’t say that!” Harris hastened to say. “I only want you to understand that the matter isn’t yet settled in my mind. What about the machine which you say was wrecked?”
“So far as I know,” answered the boy, “it still lies where it fell, and just as it fell, except that we removed some guy wires to strengthen our own machine. I don’t think the motors can be used again. We used the canvas of the planes for a winding sheet, and brought away the gasoline.”
“We’ll get the poor fellow out to-morrow!” Harris promised, “and send the body east to his friends.”
“You knew him, then?” asked Carl.