The Sky Trail

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The flying reporters headed into the east toward the valley of the Cedarriver.

  Tim's mind was working rapidly. The robbery had all the signs of havingbeen done by Shanghai Sam and Pierre Petard. The smooth efficiency withwhich they had worked and the perfection of their escape pointed to theplans of men well versed in crime.

  The _Good News_ roared over the village from which the bandit car hadlast been reported and Tim swung the plane low. Excited residentspointed down a road that angled away to the right. Tim kept the _GoodNews_ low and they sped along the country highway, every nerve tensedfor some glimpse of the bandit machine.

  They were not more than fifteen miles from the village and in a desolatepart of the state when they saw smoke rising from the highway ahead ofthem.

  With a startled cry Tim realized what had happened. The bandits' car hadbeen wrecked and had then caught on fire. Even though Shanghai Sam andPierre Petard were villains of the deepest dye, he had no desire to wishany man death under a flaming car.

  The _Good News_ circled slowly over the twisted, red-hot wreckage of themachine. There was no sign of life and Tim decided to attempt a landingin a small, level space nearby.

  The pilot of the _Good News_ brought his ship down in the field and madea quick stop.

  Ralph, white-faced and shaking, turned to face Tim.

  "Do you think they were caught in the wreckage?" he asked.

  "Can't tell," replied Tim. "We'll have a look."

  The reporters crashed through the underbrush along the road and cameupon the smouldering remains of the car. They made a careful survey butcould find no trace of anyone having been trapped under the machine.

  "Don't tramp all over the road," Tim warned his companion. "There may besome footprints we'll want to follow. I've a hunch this burning car wasnothing more than a clever ruse to throw pursuers off the trail. We'vewasted plenty of time landing and getting over here. In the meantime,the bandits are well on their way in some other kind of a machine."

  "They didn't get away in a car," said Ralph. "Look at the road. Therehasn't been a wagon or auto along since the light rain last night.They've taken to the brush."

  "We'll never find them in the brush," promised Tim. "They're too cleverfor that. A posse would smoke them out. We'll have a look around and seewhat we can find."

  They discovered the footprints of two men but the marks looked as thoughsomeone had made a hasty attempt to cover them up. When the trailentered the brush the footprints were soon lost to view.

  "We'll swing around the car in circles," said Tim. "In that way we oughtto come upon their trail somewhere. Keep an eye on the direction it washeaded when we lost it."

  Ralph nodded and disappeared in the closely matted underbrush.

  Tim could hear his companion's footsteps growing fainter and fainteruntil they could be heard no longer. The flying reporter movedcarefully, eyes on the alert for any sign which might give him some clueon how the bandits had escaped after wrecking and setting fire to theirmachine.

  He found what he was looking for in a small clearing in the underbrush.There were two parallel marks, spaced about six feet apart, andextending for thirty or forty feet. They were exactly like the markswhich he had found near the scene of the attempted holdup of themidnight mail only a few days before.

  Tim cupped his hands and called lustily for Ralph. An answering cry camefor a distance and five minutes later Ralph threshed his way through theheavy scrub.

  "Look at those," Tim cried exultantly. "Same thing we saw near therailroad right-of-way after they tried to hold up the mail train. Whenwe find out what they mean and what they were made by we'll have thesecret of these robberies."

  "They look like they had been made by the wheels of an airplane," saidRalph, "but no plane could take off in such a short distance."

  "How about an autogyro?" suggested Tim.

  "Good heavens," exclaimed Ralph. "I'll bet you've got the solution."

  "I only wish I had," smiled Tim, shaking his head. "When I first sawthose marks the day after the burning of the timber along the railroadright-of-way I thought of an autogyro. When I looked up theircapabilities I found that they wouldn't fit into the picture. No, Ralph,it's not an autogyro."

  "But whatever makes those marks must help them to escape," said Ralph.

  "We can only guess at that," Tim warned him. "Those marks might, justpossibly, be coincidence and not be connected with the bandits."

  "You'll never make me believe that," said Ralph.

  "And I probably never will myself," conceded Tim, "but I'm not going totake anything for granted. We're up against something that is going totest our brains and our nerves to the utmost."

  The young reporters continued their search but after half an hour haddiscovered nothing which would aid them.

  "We'd better get back to our plane and report where we found the banditcar," said Tim.

  "All right," agreed Ralph, "but before we do I want to take a final lookat the wreck of their machine. It's cooled off somewhat and I'd like tolook it over. There may be some marks on the body that will give us aclue."

  The wind had been rising steadily and was whipping through theunderbrush, whining a symphony all its own. Then the young reporterscaught a sudden alarming smell of smoke and heard the crackling offlames.

  "Someone must be near us," said Ralph. "I smell smoke and can hear afire."

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when a sheet of flame, whipped bythe angry wind, leaped into the air.

  "The fire from the car has spread to the underbrush," cried Tim. "Quick,Ralph, or we'll be cut off from our plane."

  In another second their danger was clearer. Some vagrant tongue offlame, gnawing at the woodwork of the car, had reached out and fired theunderbrush. The shower of the preceding night had been only enough todampen the dust of the road and the brush and weeds were quicklydevoured by the spreading flames.

  Tim and Ralph raced through the underbrush, tearing their clothes toshreds as they crashed against stumps or fought their way out of tanglesof briars. Their faces were scratched and bleeding but they did notstop. Their life depended on their legs and they used every ounce oftheir strength in the grim race against the fire.

  The flames were roaring hungrily, advancing on them with a terriblecertainty of purpose.

  The reporters' lungs ached cruelly as the boys plunged on, gasping forthe breath that was needed to give them the strength to continue. Theclearing in which they had left the _Good News_ should be near at handbut still they crashed through the undergrowth. On and on they stumbled,the crackling of the flames spurring them to new effort.

  "I'm all in," gasped Ralph as he dropped in a pitiful huddle. "Go on,Tim, go on! I'll make it out of here somehow."

  "Get up, Ralph, get up!" cried Tim as he tugged at his companion's limpbody.

  "The fire," he screamed, "the fire! We can't stay here! We must go on!"

  Ralph made a brave effort to get to his feet and with Tim supporting himstumbled on. Clouds of smoke billowed around them, filling their lungs,and waves of heat beat down upon them as the wind swept the fire nearerand nearer.

  With cries of relief they staggered into the small, level place wherethey had left the _Good News_. The biplane was waiting for them, eagerto sweep them up into the air and away from the fire.

  The boys tumbled into their places and Tim snapped on the switches. Themotor coughed once or twice and then roared into its sweet, even song ofpower.

  There was no time to turn the plane around, no time to wonder if therewas room to take off. There was only time for one thing; to jam thethrottle wide open, send the _Good News_ roaring down the wind and hopethat she would lift clear of the brush when the time came.

  Ralph snapped on his safety belt and Tim secured himself in his owncockpit. Then they were off, rocketing over the uneven ground as theplane gained speed. The powerful motor shattered the heavens with itsdefiance of the flame a
nd smoke billowing after and lifted the planeclear of the tangled underbrush which raised its arms in a futile effortto entangle the plane.

  The boys filled their lungs with the clear, pure air of the upperregions as the _Good News_ started on the return trip to Atkinson. BothRalph and Tim were busy thinking of the recent events and of theirdiscoveries at the scene of the wrecked car. They were thankful fortheir escape, narrow though it had been, from the brush fire.

  When they landed at their home field Tim went straight to theadministration building and telephoned news of the fire to the stateconservation office where steps would be taken to send men to fight theflames.

  After seeing that the _Good News_ was properly cared for the boysreturned to the _News_ office.

  Captain Raymond was waiting for them.

  "What news?" he asked eagerly.

  "Not very much," replied Tim. "They got away. We found their car,wrecked and on fire, along a little used road. Thought they might havebeen caught in the wreckage and we landed nearby and went to have alook. It was only a ruse to throw us off the trail and slow up thechase. They might have had another car hidden nearby. At least wecouldn't find any definite trace of them."

  "I've checked up on the descriptions of the men who robbed the CitizensNational," said the state policeman, "and I'm sure that Shanghai Sam andPierre Petard did the job. Find them and we'll rid the middle west of areal menace."

  "Find them is right," said Ralph. "Looks to me like that is about thehardest thing anyone around here ever tackled."

  "I think it is the hardest," said Captain Raymond grimly, as he got upto leave the office.

  "Thanks a lot boys," he said. "Too bad you couldn't have been in the airsooner or you might have traced them from the time they left the city."

  "That's an idea," said Tim. "We could arrange to have one or the otherof us at the field all the time. When an alarm comes in flash it to usthere and the _Good News_ could be in the air in less than fiveminutes."

  "Good suggestion," said Captain Raymond. "I'll see Mr. Carson at once."

  The lanky figure of the state officer disappeared into the managingeditor's office and Tim and Ralph looked at each other and smiled.

  "If Carson will agree to a plan like that, we'll get somewhere,"promised Tim.

  "Why didn't you tell him about the strange marks we found?" asked Ralph.

  "Wouldn't do any good and besides I want to do a little privatesleuthing of my own. We might just as well have that fat reward therailroad people have out. The bank may offer a sizeable sum and it won'tbe long until the capture of Shanghai Sam and Pierre Petard will mean asmall fortune."

  Captain Raymond, accompanied by the managing editor, came into theeditorial office.

  "Boys," said Carson, "Captain Raymond believes one of you should stay atthe airport all the time in case there are any more robberies. I agreewith him and we'll work out arrangements at once."

  In less than an hour Tim was back at the airport where he explained hisneeds to the genial manager.

  Hunter agreed to put an extra cot in the pilot's room and Tim sent intotown for bed clothes and toilet articles he would need. It had beendecided that Tim would take the night shift, sleeping at the field whileRalph would remain there during the day.

  The reporters soon settled into the new routine. Hours lengthened intodays and there was no further word of the gangsters who had robbed theCitizens National. It was as though the world had swallowed them.

  The state police never relaxed their vigilance and extended theirtentacles into every section of the state but without avail. No oneseemed to know where Shanghai Sam and Pierre Petard had gone after theyhad wrecked their car.

  The spring days faded into those of early summer and Tim and Ralph wererestless under the routine which kept them on such confining hours. Theydidn't dare venture away from the airport, yet both of them hadcommenced to feel that their steady vigil was of little avail.

  Tim continued to read avidly all of the aviation journals he could buyas well as spending considerable time looking into the files of oldtechnical magazines and heavy volumes which he borrowed from the library

  Tim had returned to the field late in the afternoon to relieve Ralph andthey were discussing plans for their summer vacation when the telephonerang.

  Hunter summoned Tim.

  The young reporter instantly recognized the voice of Captain Raymond,tense with excitement.

  "Another robbery," he cried. "This time there is no mistake. It wasShanghai Sam and Pierre Petard. They weren't even masked."

  "Where was it?" cried Tim.

  "At Hospers," shot back the captain. "They walked into the bank justbefore it closed, made the employees shut the doors right on time andthen took an hour to thoroughly loot the institution. First reportsindicate something over $50,000 in cash."

  "They don't bother with chicken feed," exclaimed Tim. "What directiondid they head?"

  "Toward the river valley!" cried the captain. "My men are after them butyou may be able to spot them from the air."

  "We'll start at once," promised Tim.

  Ralph, who had heard Tim's excited voice, was ready to go.

  "Where to?" he asked.

  "Hospers," replied Tim. "It's that little industrial town about fifteenmiles northeast of here. Sam and Pierre just picked the bank clean andmade a getaway. Captain Raymond's men are on their trail but maybe wecan spot them from the air and force them to cover."

  "Right," agreed Ralph. "Let's go."

  Tim stopped only long enough to snatch a repeating rifle from a case onthe wall of the field manager's office and then they were on their way.

  The _Good News_ was ready for them and Ralph climbed into the frontcockpit. Tim handed the rifle up to him and then swung into his ownplace.

  The motor roared into action, blasted the dust from under its wheels,and then flirted them across the field and into the air.

  Tim opened the throttle and the air speed indicator went up to the onehundred ninety mile an hour mark. In almost no time they were over thetown of Hospers and the red-roofed buildings which comprised its largefarm machinery factory. On into the east they sped, high enough to get acommanding view of all the highways for miles around.

  Tim figured that the robbers had started their escape less than half anhour before and they should sight the bandit car soon unless they hadalready taken to cover. Beneath them powerful touring cars, loaded withstate troopers, were dashing madly along the highways but there was nosign of the machine they sought.

  Tim and Ralph swept the countryside with eyes trained for the slightestunusual sign. They roared well ahead of the troopers and then swung inever widening circles in their effort to find their quarry.

  A cry from Ralph fixed Tim's attention on a small smudge along the roadahead. Something was on fire!

  The _Good News_ dropped out of the sky like an avenging eagle, motorwhining and wires shrieking. The plane hurtled earthward in a power divethat made the fuselage quiver and it was not until they were under thefive hundred foot level that Tim brought the nose up and checked theirmad descent.

  Below them was the body of a wrecked automobile with flames licking atthe cushions and woodwork.

  "The fire's just started," cried Ralph. "They can't be far away."

  Tim nodded and set the _Good News_ down in a field a quarter of a mileback from the road.

  "We may be able to get them this time," exulted Ralph as he leaped outof the front cockpit, rifle in hand.

  "Don't see how they could be far away," admitted Tim. "The least we cando is take a look at that wrecked machine."

  The boys broke into a fast trot and were soon at the edge of the roadwhere the powerful touring car in which the bandits had made theirescape had been ditched.

  "Smells to me like they had taken some gasoline out of the tank andthrown it over the car," said Ralph.

  Tim had been making a quick survey of the road. It was a graveledhighway and there were no footprints to give them a clue o
n whichdirection the robbers had fled.

  "We'd better get back to the _Good News_ and get into the air again,"said Tim.

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when they heard the motor of the_Good News_ break into its familiar song.

  "They've tricked us!" cried. Tim. "They're stealing our own plane!"

  The reporters plunged madly toward the field in which they had lefttheir plane but before they had covered half the distance they saw the_Good News_ shoot into the air.

  Ralph and Tim, weeping with rage, watched their plane gain altitude andthen circle over them.

  The pilot leaned far out and waved derisively. Ralph's answer was todrop on one knee and send a stream of well directed bullets at the planeoverhead.

  They could see the bullets rip through the wings. Ralph, aiming at thepropeller, was undershooting his mark. If he could land just one goodshot in the whirling blade, it would disable the plane and bring thebandits back to earth.

  Ralph exhausted the supply of ammunition in the magazine of his rifleand was helpless as the bandits headed the _Good News_ in an easterlydirection.

  "What chumps we were, knowing they couldn't be far away, to leave the_Good News_ unguarded," mourned Tim.

  "We may have to hunt for new jobs when Carson hears of this," addedRalph.

  "I'm not thinking of that so much as I am the humiliation," said Tim."Here the state police feel that we are reliable and brainy enough tohelp them and then we go and pull a boner like this. I'll tell Carsonwhat happened if you'll tell Captain Raymond and Colonel Searle."

  "Here comes the captain now," said Ralph as a touring car, loaded withstate police, skidded to a stop in the gravel.

  "Get them?" cried Captain Raymond.

  "They got us," said Tim. "We spotted their burning car and landed tohave a look. While we were hunting around their wrecked machine theyslipped behind us and stole the _Good News_. If you look east, you maysee a speck against the clouds. That's the _Good News_ and they're init."

  Captain Raymond stared incredulously at Tim.

  "You mean to tell me you let them steal your plane?" he demanded.

  "I'm afraid that's about right," put in Ralph. "We didn't exactly offerthem the plane but they helped themselves anyway."

  Captain Raymond broke into a hearty laugh, but stopped abruptly as hesaw the expressions on the faces of Tim and Ralph.

  "You wouldn't blame me for laughing," he said, "if you could have seenthe woebegone looks on your faces just now. Come on, cheer up. Theypulled a fast one on you this time but they won't do it again. We werepretty close this time; next time we'll be close enough so we can landthem in jail. Pile into the car, boys and we'll swing further east,picking up what information we can on the direction in which they areheading."