CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Twenty-five miles east of the place where the bandits had stolen the_Good News_, Tim, Ralph and the state police came upon the crumpledremains of the plane.
From all indications the bandits had landed safely, then opened thethrottle and sent the _Good News_ charging into a clump of trees. Thewings of the crimson plane had folded back along the fuselage, thepropeller was splintered into a thousand bits and it was generally readyfor the scrap heap.
Tim went wild with rage and wept in his futile anger. When he finallycalmed down it was with a quietness that foreboded no good for ShanghaiSam and Pierre Petard.
"We can't learn anything more by inspecting what's left of the _GoodNews_," he said. "Let's circle around and see if we can find trace of acar they might have had waiting for them to make their getaway."
Captain Raymond agreed that Tim's suggestion was a good one and thestate police spread out in their search for clues.
Tim and Ralph, working together, found the only clue of the afternoon.Half a mile beyond the wreckage of the _Good News_ they found two marks,about six feet apart and nearly forty feet long, in a small field whichwas hidden from the nearest road by a heavy growth of trees. Tim made acareful inspection of the marks.
"That settles it," he said finally. "I'm going east tonight and when Icome back we'll make it hot for the fellows who stole the _Good News_and then deliberately crashed it."
When they returned to Atkinson, Tim carried his story to the managingeditor and Carson was wrathfully indignant. He had no word of censurefor his flying reporters. Instead, he praised them for their daring andurged them to new efforts in the detection of Shanghai Sam and PierrePetard.
"I'm playing a long hunch," said Tim, "but I feel that if I can go easttonight, I'll be able to learn information there that will bring aboutthe arrest of this pair of air pirates."
"Go as far as you like, Tim," said the managing editor, "just as long asyou deliver the goods."
"Thanks, Mr. Carson. I'll leave on the early night train for New York."
Ralph helped Tim throw a few things in a traveling bag and saw hisflying companion to the union station and aboard the limited which wouldcarry him on his quest for new clues.
"What's clicking in the old bean?" Ralph asked as they stood beside thePullman.
"Just a wild hunch," said Tim, "and I don't want to be laughed at if itgoes wrong. That's why I'm keeping it under my hat. If there is anythingto it, you'll be the first to find out. And say, while I'm away, beg aplane off Carl Hunter and have it ready when I return. We may need aship in a hurry. We've done plenty of favors for Carl and he'll be gladto help us out."
"I'll have a ship ready before you're back," promised Ralph as Tim swungup on the steps of the slowly moving train. "Good luck."
The limited picked up speed and its tail lights vanished as Ralph stoodon the platform, wondering what queer mission had taken Tim east sosuddenly.
Thirty-six hours after leaving Atkinson Tim awoke to find his trainpulling into the outskirts of New York. The steam locomotive wasuncoupled from the long string of Pullmans and an electric engine tookits place at the head of the train for the few remaining miles into theheart of the city. The train picked up speed rapidly and rolled steadilyinto Manhattan, hesitating only a moment before it plunged into thedarkness of the tunnel under the river. Then they were in the greatterminal, where trains were arriving or departing continuouslythroughout the day.
Tim went to a hotel the managing editor had recommended and afterleaving his traveling bag set forth in quest of the information which hefelt would result in the apprehension of Shanghai Sam and Pierre Petardand put an end to the series of crimes which they had carried outsuccessfully in the middle west.
The flying reporter's first call was at the office of the largestaircraft manufacturer in the United States. After some insistence he wasadmitted to the office of Herman Bauer, the chief designer, a quiet,gray-haired man. In a few words Tim explained his mission.
"I'm glad you came to us," said Bauer. "I've been reading of theserobberies and once or twice the stories have mentioned how completelythe bandits disappear and that the only marks they leave behind arethose parallel lines in small clearings."
"Then you've guessed what they must be using?" asked Tim eagerly.
"Yes," assented Bauer, "but I'm afraid I can't help you much more thanto say that I believe you're on the right track. Our company doesn't goin for that sort of thing and if we did we'd have to have assurance thatthe machine would be used legally."
"I hardly expected that your firm was involved in any way," explainedTim, "but with your knowledge of the companies capable of doing such ajob I thought you might be able to give me some valuable leaders."
"I can't off hand," replied the designer, "but if you'll come back thisafternoon I'll make some inquiries in the meantime and may haveinformation that will help you."
Tim thanked the aviation expert and passed the remaining hours of themorning walking through the streets of busy, restless New York.
At two o'clock he returned to Herman Bauer's office. The designergreeted Tim cordially and turned to introduce a younger man who was inhis office.
"I want you to know Mac Giddings," he told Tim. "Mac is one of myassistants and has managed to uncover some information that should helpyou."
Tim and the assistant designer shook hands cordially. They were of thesame type, tall and slender, with a seriousness of purpose that broughtan immediate and warm friendship.
"I've heard rumors for some time that a little company back in theJersey mountains was up to some kind of a trick that wasn't altogetherabove board," said Giddings. "One of our draughtsmen was fired by thembut before he left he saw enough of the plans to see what they had inmind. If you say the word, we'll hop in my car and drive out. We canmake it before sundown."
Tim agreed to the assistant designer's suggestion and they were soonthreading their way through the heavy mid-afternoon traffic. Once out ofthe heart of the city they struck a thoroughfare and sped across theJersey flats.
The flying reporter told his new friend of their experiences withShanghai Sam and Pierre Petard and gave him an outline of his ownconclusions.
"Seems to me you've found the solution," said Giddings as he swung hismachine off the main highway. "And I wouldn't be surprised if we verifyit within the next two or three hours."
The roads became rougher and their car labored up steep grades. Farmhouses looked less prosperous and by six o'clock they had reached asection of Jersey with which few people were familiar. They were almostto the Pennsylvania line in a wild, sparsely settled region.
"We'd better leave my car here," said Giddings, "and go the rest of theway on foot."
He drove his car behind a thicket that screened it from the view of anychance passerby and they continued their journey afoot.
Half an hour later they topped a ridge and looked down on a valley,flanked on each side by small clearings. To the right of the creek wereseveral frame houses while on the left side was a wide, low building,half frame, half canvas, which could be nothing but a hangar.
"Take it easy," cautioned Giddings. "These people don't like strangersand they're apt to shoot first and ask questions afterwards."
Tim and the assistant designer made their way toward the clearings withgreat caution. Fortunately they were on the left bank of the stream andwould not have to cross it in order to reach the hangar.
A small crew of mechanics who had been at work in the hangar came out ofthe building and made their way across the rough bridge and to one ofthe houses which evidently was used as a mess house.
"Now's our chance," whispered Giddings as he moved toward the hangar.
"You don't need to go," said Tim, grabbing at his companion. "There isno need for you to take any chances. This is my game and I can see itthrough now."
"I've voted myself in on it," said Giddings. "Let's go."
They moved quietly through t
he underbrush and made their way toward therear of the hangar. There they stopped and listened to make sure that noone had been left on guard.
"All clear," whispered Tim. "I'm going in."
The flying reporter found a place where he could wiggle under the canvaswall at the rear of the hangar. Giddings was right behind him and whenthey stood up it was to look upon the most unusual workshop either ofthem had ever seen.
Workbenches and lathes were along the walls of the makeshift hangar butthe object which held their attention was the monoplane in the center.
"I'm right!" exclaimed Tim jubilantly, "I'm right!"
"You sure are," agreed Giddings. "I'm going to have a look at thiscontraption."
The monoplane was the strangest plane either of them had ever seen. Theypinched themselves to make sure that they were not dreaming for it wassuch a bizarre looking craft.
"Old Man Bauer will have a fit when he hears about this," chuckledGiddings, "for he has always had a pet theory that this type of machinewould never fly. Said you couldn't get enough power into the wingpropellers."
"I'd like to try it," said Tim as they started a quick inspection of themonoplane.
The machine had been camouflaged by an expert. On the ground it wouldhave been invisible from the air while in the air it would bepractically invisible from the ground, so cleverly had the colors beenmixed and camouflage been applied. But the feature of the monoplanewhich drew their attention was the wing propellers. At the outer tip ofeach wing were mounted horizontal propellers, each about four feet indiameter. Small, powerful air cooled motors supplied the power for thewing propellers while a standard whirlwind was the motive power for themain propeller in the nose of the ship.
"Talk about autogyros," exclaimed Tim. "Why this thing could take offand land in a flower bed. I'll bet those wing propellers can pull italmost straight up."
"That's the theory," said Giddings, "and from the robberies that thisgang you're after has been getting away with successfully it looks to melike they've been using one of these machines, probably the first onethis outfit ever turned out."
"When I first saw those parallel tracks after the attempt to rob themidnight mail I figured they must be using some kind of a machine likethis," said Tim, "but I knew it would have to be more efficient thananything sold on the commercial market."
"Let's get out of here before dark," said Giddings. "We've got a longtrip back to the city and we can discuss plans on our way back."
Tim agreed and they made their way out of the hangar and back to the carwithout detection.
On the trip to New York Tim discussed plans for the capture of ShanghaiSam and Pierre Petard with the young aircraft designer.
"I've got something I've been fooling with for a long time," saidGiddings. "It's a sort of radio detector designed for use in time ofwar. When it is fitted into a plane you can ascertain whether any otherships are in the air and by adjustment of the detector tell how far awaythey are."
"Just the thing I'll need," said Tim enthusiastically. "Is there anychance that you'll lend it to me for a few days?"
"That's why I mentioned it," said Giddings. "The device needs a thoroughtesting and once I've proved its value I'll have no trouble in sellingmy patents. We'll both profit by your using it."
When they reached the city Giddings drove to his apartment, whichcontained living quarters and a room which he had fitted up as anelectrical laboratory.
Far into the night they worked in the laboratory, Giddings explainingthe use of his radio detector and Tim working with it to be sure that hecould handle it to the best advantage.
When the flying reporter left Giddings' apartment he was burdened withthe radio detector, which, although placed in a compact cabinet, washeavy.
"I'm going to report this outfit over in the Jersey woods," saidGiddings, "and it won't take Uncle Sam long to put a damper on theiractivities. There will be no objection to their manufacture of theirplane for commercial use but to make them especially for aerial banditsis a proposition that Uncle Sam won't stand for."
"I'm glad you'll take care of that," said Tim. "They really have awonderful plane and it's a shame that a crooked outfit has gotten holdof it. Undoubtedly money which the Sky Hawk obtained when he was at thepeak of his career is behind them."
"Which will be just one more reason why Uncle Sam will be glad to shutthem up," said Giddings. "By tomorrow afternoon the woods will be fullof federal men for a surprise raid. Be sure and let me know how you comeout and send the radio detector back as soon as you're through."
"I'll do that," promised Tim, "and thanks so much for all you've donefor me."
When the flying reporter reached his hotel, he found a telegram.
"We've been trying to find you since late afternoon," said the clerk whohanded him the message. "It was marked important."
Tim tore open the yellow envelope and read the brief message. His sensesreeled as the import of the telegram flashed through his mind.
Ralph had been kidnapped!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The message, from the managing editor of the _News_, was brief and tothe point.
"Ralph kidnapped this afternoon. Come home."
The shocking news paralyzed Tim's brain and he leaned helplessly againstthe clerk's desk, his face drained of all color.
"Are you ill?" asked the clerk.
"No, I'll be all right in a minute," Tim managed to say. "Just somesurprising news from my managing editor."
The flying reporter went to a nearby lounge and sat down.
Ralph kidnapped.
It must be impossible; it was impossible, he told himself. Yet there wasthe telegram from Carson--so simple and yet so startling.
"Ralph kidnapped this afternoon. Come home."
They needed him in Atkinson and Tim pulled himself together and went tothe desk to inquire about the air passenger service west.
"You can get a plane at seven in the morning," said the clerk. "Bychanging at Dearborn you'll land at Atkinson at five in the afternoon."
"Telephone my reservation," said Tim and he turned to hasten to hisroom.
He partially undressed and threw himself on the bed, still dazed fromthe shock of the telegram.
What could Ralph have been doing; what had he run into that had resultedin his kidnapping? Who would want to kidnap him and how had they doneit? These and a dozen other questions raced through Tim's tired mind.Finally, in complete physical and mental exhaustion, he dropped into asound sleep.
Afternoon of the following day found Tim disembarking from the mail andpassenger plane at his home airport. Carson and the field manager werewaiting to greet him.
"What's this about Ralph being kidnapped?" demanded Tim, to whom thehundred and ten mile an hour schedule of the passenger plane had seemedslow as they winged their way westward from New York.
"There isn't a whole lot to tell," said the managing editor. "The dayafter you left Ralph took one of the cars and headed for Cedar rivervalley. Said he had a hunch that the bandits had a hideout there andthat he might improve his time while you were away by making a sort of alone search for them. He was still boiling mad over their stealing the_Good News_ and cracking it up."
"I feel that way myself," said Tim. "Go on."
"Ralph never got to the valley," said Carson. "In fact, he didn't getmore than fifty miles from Atkinson. The first we knew he was in troublewas a report late in the afternoon of one of our cars being foundabandoned on a road east of here and on the way to the valley I knew itwas the machine Ralph had taken and personally headed theinvestigation."
"What did you find?" asked Tim breathlessly.
"Signs of a hard scrap," said the managing editor. "Ralph must havestumbled on Sam and Pierre or they might have been trailing him. It wasalong a lonely road with lots of underbrush nearby."
"Anything to show that Ralph was hurt?"
"There were several bullet marks in the body of the car but there was nosign of blood,"
said the managing editor.
"Find anything else?"
"Some peculiar marks in a clearing nearby. They were similar to thoseyou reported at railroad fire and bank robbery."
"I was sure those marks would be there," mused Tim. "Well, one thingsure," he added, "Sam and Pierre are about at the end of their string. Iknow what they've been using to make their escapes and have the means ofdetecting them the next time they come into the open."
Tim told Carson and Hunter of his visit to the aircraft company in NewYork and how the chief designer and Mac Giddings had helped him, of thediscovery of the secret airplane factory in the Jersey woods and of themarvelous plane that they had developed. Then he explained the radiodetector which Mac Giddings had perfected and his plan for catchingShanghai Sam and his companion.
"It sounds O. K.," said the managing editor enthusiastically.
"I've got a plane here at the field you can equip," volunteered thefield manager. "I'll have the mechanics start getting it in shape."
Throughout the night Tim remained at the airport, supervising theinstallation of the radio detector in the fast biplane which Hunterprovided for his use.
By dawn the plane was ready to go.
"What are you going to do now?" asked the managing editor.
"Start a steady patrol of the Cedar river valley," said Tim. "When I gettired Hunter has agreed to relieve me. We'll both ride the plane andonly come down when we need gas and oil."
"Won't they get suspicious of what you're up to?" asked the managingeditor.
"I doubt it," said Tim. "We'll be up ten to twelve thousand feet all thetime and with the muffler Carson has fitted on the exhaust they won't beable to see or hear us on the ground."
"And will the radio detector work at that height?"
"Giddings said it was good up to twenty thousand feet," replied Tim. "Atleast it is the best we have and if it does work we'll soon put an endto these marauders."
An hour later the silver-gray biplane which they had equipped wascruising over the Cedar river valley. The altimeter showed 10,000 feetand Tim throttled down the engine as he started the patrol of thevalley. Hunter, in the forward cockpit, had a headset on and waslistening for some sound in the radio detector.
Through the hours of the morning they maintained their vigil and at noonflew halfway back to Atkinson to land at an air mail emergency field andrefill their gasoline tanks.
"I'll take the controls this afternoon," said Hunter, and Tim agreed tothe suggestion.
When they were near the valley again Tim set the radio detector going.There was a low, steady hum in the earphones for the noise of their ownmotor was cut out of the set's pickup.
At two o'clock a sound came through the earphones that electrified Tim.Hunter, in the rear cockpit, could see Tim's body tense as the flyingreporter bent over the detector and adjusted the dials for more delicatetuning.
Somewhere below them the motor of a powerful plane was being warmed up!
The roaring in the earphones was strong; then weak, as their own biplaneswung away from the source of the sound. By following the path of thestrongest sound they would be able to find their quarry and Hunterwatched Tim's hand carefully for directions on how to pilot the plane.
When they reached the center of a dense forest along the right bank ofthe Cedar the roaring was loud and steady. They were still up eightthousand feet and too high to see what was going on below. Tim took apair of field glasses out of a case and leaned over the side of the shipwhile Hunter banked the biplane in easy circles.
The powerful lenses made the ground leap toward them and Tim could seeevery object clearly. He gasped as his glasses focused on a clearing inone of the densest parts of the forest.
He was looking down on an exact replica of the plane he had seen in themakeshift hangar in the Jersey woods only two days before. The upperwings, as he had expected, were carefully painted so that detection fromthe sky was almost impossible.
Under normal conditions Tim and Hunter could have flown low over theclearing without seeing the plane but thanks to the radio detector theyhad been able to spot it with little trouble.
Hunter shut off the motor and leaned toward Tim.
"What are they doing?" he cried.
"Getting ready to take off," shouted Tim. "They're climbing into theplane. Here they come!"
"See anything of Ralph?"
"No, but there's a small shack on one side of the clearing and he isprobably in there. We'll take care of these chaps first and then dropdown and see where they've hidden Ralph."
Hunter snapped on the switch and the motor roared into action again.
Tim kept his glasses trained on the plane below. The wing motors hadbeen started and the ship, after a run of thirty or forty feet, wasrising almost vertically. It was a beautiful take-off and Tim knew thatthe master hand of Pierre Petard was at the controls.
"We'll let them get out of the forest country," Tim shouted at Hunter."If we swoop down on them now we'll have them sneaking into some smallclearing where we can't follow."
"Right," cried Hunter as he swung his biplane westward and took up thepursuit.
For half an hour the strange game of hunted and hunter continued withTim and Hunter keeping five to six thousand feet above the other ship.
When they were finally over open country Tim motioned for Hunter to givehis plane the gun and the field manager, anxious for action, opened thethrottle and sent his ship thundering downward.
Tim opened a black leather case in the forward cockpit and swung asub-machine gun over the side of the plane. They had come prepared forany emergency for both of them realized that the men they sought wouldstop at nothing to make their escape.
The biplane shrieked down on its unsuspecting quarry, flashing out ofthe heavens like an avenging eagle.
Intuition must have caused Pierre Petard to glance over his shoulderjust in time to see Hunter preparing for the final swoop. They sawPierre reach quickly and tap Sam on the shoulder.
Instantly the man in the forward cockpit turned and in another second alight machine gun, similar to the one Tim held, belched a stream ofbullets at them.
Sam's aim was good and the bullets traced a wicked line along one wing,coming ever closer to the fuselage. But it was for only a second.
Hunter was a master of the air and he sent his plane into a screamingdive that ended only when he was under the other plane and in a positionfor Tim to pour a hail of bullets into the fuselage of the ship abovethem.
The bandit plane veered sharply and for a second Tim had a clear shot atthe propeller. The bullets from the machine gun shattered the whirlingblade and the air was full of bits of wood.
Hunter pulled his own ship into the clear and they watched anxiouslywhile Pierre attempted to bring his damaged plane to a safe landing. Itfluttered down like a crippled bird, turning this way and that, nowlimping along for a few feet and then abruptly dropping away until itseemed inevitable that it should end in a deadly tailspin.
"They'll make it all right," cried Tim. "They're heading for that bigpasture," and he pointed to a large field.
Hunter gave the biplane full throttle and sped earthward at a daredevilpace. They must beat the bandit ship down. The field manager sideslippedinto the pasture and set his plane down hard. Tim leaped from thecockpit, his machine gun freshly loaded and ready for action. Hunter, arepeating rifle in hand, joined him.
The bandit plane was staggering down toward the field. It barely clearedthe fence and bounced toward them.
"Get back of this ridge," Tim warned Hunter. "They may try to shoot itout and we'd make good targets out here in the open."
Hunter agreed and they sought shelter behind a low ridge along the edgeof the field.
The bandit plane rolled on and on. They could see Pierre workingdesperately at the controls.
"The wing motors," cried Tim. "He's trying to start them. If he doesthey'll get away from us."
"Keep down," warned Hunter, "I think the burst of bullets y
ou put intotheir ship disabled the controls to the wing motors or he'd have usedthem before he landed."
The bandit plane finally rolled to a stop less than two hundred feetaway.
"Come out with your hands up!" ordered Tim.
The answer was a flicker of flame from the forward cockpit, the staccatoof a machine gun and the thud of bullets into the dirt which protectedthem.
Tim answered instantly, his machine gun tracing a steady, deadly linealong the fuselage. Hunter pumped shell after shell into his repeatingrifle.
The firing from the plane ceased abruptly.
"We'll come out," cried a weak voice and Pierre Petard stood up in hiscockpit.
Tim and Hunter moved forward cautiously, fearing a ruse, but they foundthat Shanghai Sam had been wounded in the shoulder in the last exchangeof shots and Pierre, knowing that the end of his career was near, waswhite and shaken.
"Where is the reporter you kidnapped?" demanded Tim.
"Back in the clearing where we made our headquarters," replied Pierre."We didn't harm him," he added as though fearing Tim might manhandlehim.
"If he is," promised the flying reporter, "I'll give you something toremember me by."
Shanghai Sam refused to talk and Hunter went to the nearest highwaywhere he stopped a motorist. Within an hour Captain Raymond and a detailof state police were on the scene, ready to take charge of theprisoners.
Tim, relieved of the responsibility of capturing the sky pirates,hastened to a farmhouse where he telephoned the story to the _News_.Carson, the managing editor, was jubilant.
"But how about Ralph?" he asked.
"State police are on their way to get him now," said Tim. "The wholecase will be cleaned up in another hour or two."
"Splendid," exclaimed the managing editor. "We're going on the streetwith an extra now with the _News_ taking full credit for the capture ofthose fellows."
Early that evening Tim and Ralph were reunited in the _News_ office.They had much to tell and they had an interested audience in theirmanaging editor, the field manager and the members of the _News_ staff.
Ralph told how he had been on his way to the Cedar river valley when hehad seen the bandits bring their plane down in a small clearing near thehighway. Ralph had left his car to make a closer inspection but had beendiscovered by Pierre and Sam. He had fled to his car but had beencaptured before he could make his escape. He had been forced into thebandit plane and taken to their hiding place in the wilderness of timberand underbrush in the river valley.
"They took good care of me," grinned Ralph, "but I realized that whenthey completed their series of daring robberies they would probablyleave me tied up in the shack, which wasn't such a pleasant prospect.The money they had obtained in their robberies was all in the shack andbelieve me I was sure happy when the state police arrived."
From New York came a telegram from Mac Giddings congratulating Tim onthe use of the radio detector and adding that federal agents had raidedthe hidden factory in the Jersey woods, seizing all men and equipment.Giddings added that his own company was making arrangements to take overthe plans and manufacture the new plane on a commercial basis.
"At least some good will come from this whole affair" said Tim. "Theplane was truly a marvel. It's too bad that it had to have its firsttest in this fashion."
Captain Raymond made his way into the room. A stranger was with him butTim recognized the man as the chief executive of the state, Gov. NedTurner.
Captain Raymond introduced Tim and Ralph to the governor.
"When Captain Raymond told me all of the fine things you two have donein capturing these sky pirates I wanted to tell you in person how muchthis means to the state. It is a real privilege to commission you ashonorary life members of the state police."
When Tim and Ralph were finally alone with their managing editor, theyconfessed their extreme fatigue.
"What you need is a good rest," said Carson. "You'll get the $5,000reward the railroad offered, the banks should pay you handsomely and thepaper is going to give each of you a bonus of a month's pay. You'dbetter take a vacation and spend a little of that money."
"Sounds good to me," said Tim. "What do you say to accepting theinvitation Hank Cummins extended to visit at the Circle Four ranch for amonth?"
"Make it unanimous," smiled Ralph.
"Then you can plan on leaving the first part of the week," said themanaging editor. "In the meantime we'll see about buying a plane toreplace the _Good News_ for I know neither of you will be happy untilthen."
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