Helen had been watching the progress of Rand’s plane. Instead of heading back toward Sandy Point he was crossing the lake to the east side.
“He’s not going back to Sandy Point,” Helen cried. “Look, he’s going to land on the east side back in the hills.”
“Then he’ll leave the plane there and no one at Sandy Point will know anything about the accident,” exclaimed Tom. “That means we’re the only ones who know.”
Helen was thinking rapidly. Here was just the chance she needed to get hold of Rand and ask him about his world trip. She might be able to make a trade with him. It was worth a try. She leaned forward and spoke to the boatman.
“Will you swing over east, land and pick up the pilot of that plane?” she asked Jim Preston.
Tom, divining the motive back of Helen’s request, added, “We’ll pay for the extra time.”
The boatman agreed and the nose of the Liberty was soon cleaving a white-crested path for the east shore. The scarlet plane had disappeared but from the drone of the motor they knew it was somewhere in the hills back from the lakeshore.
Jim Preston let the Liberty drift to an easy landing alongside a rocky outcropping and Tom, Helen and Margaret hopped out.
“We won’t be gone long,” they promised.
Back through the sparse timber along the lake shore they hurried and out into a long, narrow meadow. The scene that greeted them held them spellbound for a moment. Then they raced toward the far end of the pasture.