“Why?” asked Garry.
Don spoke earnestly.
“Because—the control room chief took back a tracing, claiming he owned it—and because there was the beam of that searchlight on us tonight—and there isn’t another searchlight that I know of near!”
“Oh!” Garry saw light as Don spoke in his clipped, alert way.
“Yes!” Chick cried, “you think the control chief is working with the one in the helicopter—they are the ones who are trying to ruin your uncle.”
“Yes!” Don was already hurrying into the wide open hangar, where he saw several mechanicians adjusting the hub bolts on the small, swift Dart.
“But the chief of control has gone with your uncle!” Garry objected.
They were inside the hangar as Don answered, putting his words in low, swift earnest sentences.
“Only to the car. He’ll slip back here. We mustn’t leave him free to signal——”
“I’ll stay!” Chick declared. “I’ll stick to him as tight as his skin, Don. I’ll be a part of the Airlane Guard—and if he signals, I’ll be there—and we can get Doc——”