“What is he doing to it?” whispered Frank.
“Acts like he was preparing to take a trip in it,” was the reply.
The words were followed by the rattle of the motors.
CHAPTER XVI.—HOW A CAT TREED A WOLF.
Smoke still hung over the “burn.” Now and then it was swept aside by a gust of wind which seemed now to blow out of the east, and so did not come sizzling with the heat of burned forests. The general effect, however, was that of a heavy, stifling fog, and Green and Frank crept along toward the aeroplane with their hands held out before their faces.
The clatter of the motors had ceased, but the tap-tap of steel on steel was faintly heard as they neared the machine. Occasionally the worker, whoever he was, ceased his tapping, as if listening.
“He’s got his nerve with him,” Frank whispered, as they moved along.
“How did he get here?” asked Green. “That is the question that is troubling me.”
Presently the two came up so that the figure of the man could be discerned, standing before the bulk of the planes. Green sprang forward and seized him by the arm. For an instant it seemed as if the capture would be made without a struggle, then a shot was fired and a crouching figure leaped away.
Frank saw the forester fall and leaped toward the retreating figure. The race in the darkness, caused by the pall of smoke which followed, was short, for Frank was a noted runner and soon overhauled the fugitive. He did not attempt to take hold of the man as he came up. He knew that such a course might mean an unequal contest, for he was only a boy.