Hinkley primed both motors from underneath, and Broughton got into the cockpit. As soon as the motors were running Hinkley and Graves set themselves against the left wing. With the right motor full on they succeeded in turning the ship until it was headed down the slope, pointing toward one corner.
“If you don’t turn ’em into the wind the controls are liable to get flapping,” Hinkley explained to all and sundry. “With a smaller ship, wind sometimes turns ’em over, getting under the wing, too.”
Larry was wondering whether Broughton was planning to try a take-off. It looked like suicide to him, but Broughton was the doctor, Hinkley shrugged his shoulders at his thoughts, and then looked goodnaturedly at the lowering faces about him. He was enjoying himself.
Without another word Hayden walked toward the cabin. The others followed slowly.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” announced the fat man. “If there’s anything you need⸺”
“Nothing, thank you,” returned Graves.
“We are as welcome as rain at a picnic,” remarked Hinkley after the man had got out of earshot.
“Just about,” agreed Graves as Broughton returned. “To tell you the truth, I expected that we would get away with things a lot better than we seem to be doing. Those three well dressed men are undoubtedly some of the higher-ups in Hayden’s organization—the man that went after him is Somers. He is the only one I know. Somers served ten years in jail for killing a man when he was a radical leader. It was a strike affair. His specialty used to be salted mines and that sort of stuff—he’s a rough customer who can take care of himself. I’m surprized to see him all dressed up out here—if he’s working the city end of Hayden’s scheme he’s rather out of his element. We believe he’s the actual leader on the robberies themselves. That little Jew, Meyer, is the only other man known to me personally. He’s a New York gangster—good with a gun.”
“How do things look to you?” inquired Broughton.
“The whole bunch is too ⸺ suspicious,”