“And so those rascals have been bunking in that old cabin all this time?” mused Andy. “Like as not they went there right after missing our airship that night. But if they’re hanging around here, Frank, don’t you think they mean to make another try for this craft? Some fine night they’ll break in again and give us a scare for our money.”
“Well,” said Frank, quietly, “you know since that time I’ve never failed to fix it every night so that the engine could not be run. It’s easy as falling off a log to hide some important little part and render the whole thing useless. But now that we’ve got a hunch about their hiding place, we must let Chief Waller know. He can come up here this very night and grab the precious pair.”
“I agree with you,” Andy hastened to say. “To tell the honest truth, Pard Frank, I’ll never be easy till Jules and Jean are safely in the cooler. I’m afraid they’ve got it in for a couple of fellows I know. And if they crept in on us some night they’d just make you tell where you had put that missing part of the engine, even if they had to torture us. I know the breed. They’re a cruel, cold-blooded lot, and I want to see ’em caged!”
“Oh, well,” Frank continued, “it’ll be up to the chief. Unless he makes a foozle of the whole business he ought to gather them in easy. But let’s turn now.”
“Are you going back the same way?” asked the other, burning with eagerness.
“I think not, Andy. That might make them suspect we had glimpsed something and were coming to make sure. We’d better fight shy of that glade and take a wide sweep around. Besides, it’s a farming country over yonder and worth looking down at.”
“Yes,” said his cousin, quickly, “and it’s sure a sight to see the rustics breaking their blessed necks looking up. Everybody runs out of the house like it was afire. I only hope we don’t come across such a fool as one I read about the other day.”
“Why, what did he do?” queried Frank.
“Hanged if he didn’t blaze away with a shotgun at a poor aviator. Lucky the man happened to be up too high, or he’d have been filled full of bird shot. There’s no telling what some of these jay fools might do. They think it’s a big hawk, perhaps one of those giant roc birds old Sindbad the Sailor used to ride on. But look down, Frank; there’s the first farm. See the men in the field shaking their fists at us! Now, what in the dickens are they doing that for, d’ye suppose?”
Frank laughed as he replied: