They found the airplane standing like a singed bird on the sands in front of the hangar, and gathered about were Frank and Bob, Tom Barnum, and Old Davey, Mr. Hampton’s gardener.
“The wings are gone, Jack,” said Bob, turning as his chum approached. “But, thanks to Tom’s rapid work with the extinguisher, the fire did not reach the tank, and the old bus will be able to fly again after she sprouts new wings.”
Jack turned his gaze to the hangar. The sides and roof were of corrugated iron. Practically the only 80 wood in the construction was that employed in the skidway. It needed only a glance to tell him the latter had been torn up and piled inside the hangar where it was still smouldering.
“What happened?” he asked.
There were excited answers from all, but presently the story was made clear. Some miscreant apparently had forced open the doors of the hangar, torn up the wooden planks and flooring of the skidway, piled them inside and then set them afire. Probably whoever was guilty employed this method in order to give himself time to escape before the fire should attract attention. He had overlooked, however, the presence of a large tank of chemicals with which to fight fire stored at the rear of the hangar, and Tom Barnum, after telephoning the Temple home, had appeared so quickly at the hangar that, by employing the chemical extinguisher, he had managed to save the airplane from being blown up. Old Davey, a light sleeper, had hurried over from his cottage and the pair were in the act of pushing apart the burning brands in order to wheel out the plane, when Bob and Frank arrived to help them.
“Et’s mighty cur’ous,” said Old Davey, shaking his head dolefully; “mighty cur’ous, the trouble you boys hev with thet airyplane. D’ye think now et was them Mexicans comin’ back?” 81
“No, Davey,” said Jack. “Not this time. Some other set of rascals was responsible.”
“What does he mean, may I ask?” inquired Captain Folsom, his curiosity aroused.
Briefly, Jack related to him how the previous summer two representatives of a faction of Mexican bandits engaged in making war on a group of independent oil operators headed by his father in New Mexico, had appeared at the quiet Long Island home, stolen the airplane, and flown with it to Old Mexico where they had employed it in kidnapping Mr. Hampton. The boys, said Jack, not only had effected Mr. Hampton’s release but also had recovered the plane, as related in “The Radio Boys On The Mexican Border.”
“It’s too long a story to be told now, however,” he concluded, after giving the above bare outline. “Some other time I’ll give you the details if you are interested.”