Now that the bootlegger’s own plane was out of commission, he might decide to take Jimmy’s. That wasn’t such a pleasant prospect. But there was still another angle to the situation. If the man seized the plane, would he not almost necessarily feel compelled to get rid of the evidence of his crime? In short, would he not find it expedient to get rid of Jimmy? When Jimmy thought of the old saying, so commonly quoted by criminals, that “dead men tell no tales,” he could feel the cold shivers run up and down his spine.
Jimmy wanted to turn around and talk to his captor. He felt as though a bullet might come crashing through his back at any instant. It seemed to him that he simply must look around and face the bootlegger. Yet he hesitated. The man had told him to fly straight on. That was evidently what the fellow wanted—to get to his destination. He was getting there, and he seemed satisfied. Jimmy decided that the best course was to attend to his flying and make careful note of the country over which he passed, together with the compass bearings, rate of speed, prominent landmarks, etc., so that if he had the opportunity to fly back, he could find his way. So he centred his whole attention on the matter of navigation and soon found that he felt relieved in mind. He could think better. He was not so oppressed by fear.
But Jimmy had far less time for thought than he had anticipated. In six or seven minutes he had reached the tip of the Prince Edward peninsula, and in twenty minutes he was over the very heart of this body of land. Still he kept on as straight as the crow flies.
Now, for the first time, his unwelcome passenger spoke. “Set her down in the open space just ahead,” he said gruffly.
Jimmy eased his plane toward the ground and throttled down his engine. The uniform whiteness of the snow made it difficult for him to distinguish the contour of the ground. But as he came lower, he saw that there was a great, smooth area ahead of him that had quite evidently been used for landing planes. The snow was streaked with the long parallel marks of giant skis. Jimmy picked out a pair of ski marks and set his ship down safely almost in the very treads he was watching. The plane slid safely to rest. The landing ground was in a lonely region, and not a house or a human being was in sight.
“Get out,” said the man brusquely.
Jimmy stepped from the plane. His captor followed.
“Now that you succeeded in tracking me down, what do you intend to do with your information?” he demanded, as he toyed with his revolver suggestively.
“Tracking you down!” exclaimed Jimmy, amazed. “I don’t even know what you are talking about. I never saw you before, never heard of you, and certainly never tried to trail you. Where did you get that idea?”
The man looked at him uncertainly. “Ain’t you one of them government prohibition agents?” he asked.