The Radio Boys on the Mexican Border Part 5

Tom had re-entered the power house and was pottering around the machinery.

"Dad," said Bob, who had been knitting his brow in thought, "according to what you believe, this is all part of a plot of certain Mexicans to embroil their country and ours by making trouble for the independent operators in the Southwest represented by Mr. Hampton. In that case, why should they try so hard to steal that list of the names of the independents. That looks to me like a move on the part of your business rival, the Octopus."

"I know it does, Bob," said his father. "The thing isn't clear to me by a good deal. But I believe I am right. However, let's go into the station now and call up the Hamptons out in New Mexico. Both Mr.

Hampton and Jack will be interested to hear about what has happened here this afternoon."

The boys agreed enthusiastically, and with a word to Tom Barnum to switch on the motor in order that they might have power to telephone, all three entered the station. But, despite repeated calls, they received no response.

"I suppose there's n.o.body at their station, that's all," said Bob.

"I suppose so," said his father. "But this business has me worried.

Let's hope nothing has gone wrong out there."

Reluctantly, all three abandoned their efforts, removed their headpieces, and with a "good-bye" to Tom, who lived in a room at the rear of the station, started for the house. If New Mexico were to call, a light bulb would flash the signal in Tom's quarters, and he would telephone the house.

It was twilight when they reached home, and all three went to their rooms to dress for dinner.

"Tomorrow," said Mr. Temple in parting, "we'll all drive over to church, and then in the afternoon you boys can go to work preparing the airplane, and I'll lend a hand." Mr. Temple was chairman of the Board of Trustees of an old ivy-covered church in a sleepy village some miles away, and never let Sunday pa.s.s without attending divine wors.h.i.+p.

At dinner the talk was all of the prospective airplane flight to New Mexico. The events of the day were told in detail to Mrs. Temple and Della, Bob's sister. Della, who was an athletic girl of 16, declared she wanted to go with them, but Bob answered rudely, as boys too often speak to their sisters:

"Huh," he said, "you'd just get in the way."

Mrs. Temple made no objections to the proposed trip, but began immediately to lay plans for filling the house with guests during their absence. And in discussion of the details, Della was appeased.

"Say, Bob, why are you so rude to Della?" Frank queried later, in the library, as they awaited Mr. Temple's coming to discuss preparations for the flight.

"Huh, she's not your sister, Frank," said Bob. "Anyhow, I believe you're sweet on her."

"No, I'm not," said Frank hotly, "but she's a good kid and you ought to treat her better."

"Yes, you are, too," said Bob. "I know you. But there's no use getting hot about it. Here comes Dad now," he added, as a familiar footstep sounded in the hall. "Let's get at those maps and guides and we'll dope this out together."

For several hours the discussion continued. For months the boys had been making their plans, going over routes, selecting landing fields, etc. Now that Mr. Temple had decided to accompany them, they laid their plans before him. He nodded, well satisfied in the main, but making a few pointed suggestions of value.

"And with the radiophone that we carry on the airplane," said Frank, "we can be in touch with Tom at this end and Jack out in New Mexico all the way. That all-metal body of the plane makes a fine ground, better than hanging wires possibly could. And with that new detector Bob and I have worked out, I'll bet we can hear all the way."

"Sure," said Bob, getting up and stretching, "Well, come on, Frank.

Let's turn in. It's near midnight. I for one need a good night's sleep. And I hope there'll be no trouble to disturb us tonight."

Alas, poor Bob could not foresee what calamity the night held in store.

CHAPTER VI

A THIEF IN THE NIGHT

"Wake up, Bob, you old sleepyhead."

Bob stirred under vigorous shaking, opened his eyes sleepily, and saw Frank bending over him. His chum had thrown a bathrobe over his pajamas. The door between their connecting rooms stood open. The early morning sunlight of a bright June day streamed in the open windows.

"Whazzamatter?" grunted Bob, and closing his eyes he turned over and prepared to s.n.a.t.c.h an extra forty winks. But Frank shook him again.

"Come on," said he. "Stir your stumps. We can slip out before anybody else awakes, grab something to eat in the pantry, and go down to the shed and tinker on the plane. Come on, Bob, we can get in a couple of hours work before going to church."

Bob was wide awake by now, and pleased at the prospect held out by his chum. Tumbling out of bed, he headed for the shower in the bathroom which the boys used in common, but Frank restrained him.

"Make too much noise," said Frank. "Anyhow, we can take a plunge down at the beach before going to the shed. Come on, get into some old duds and let's hurry."

The boys were dressed in short order. In the pantry, to which they tiptoed, they found cold tongue and ham, bread and b.u.t.ter, with which they hurriedly made several sandwiches apiece. It was not much of a breakfast, but their appet.i.tes were those of youth and they enjoyed it. Letting themselves out of the back door of the sleeping house, they started on a trot for the little private beach, a good half mile away. The last few yards were made with the boys shedding garments as they ran. Then with a shout they plunged naked into the rollers coming in from the open Atlantic.

It was great sport. For twenty minutes they crashed through breakers, wrestled, ducked each other, shrieked aloud secure in the knowledge there was n.o.body within hearing distance, and in general had a glorious time of it. At the end of that period they rubbed down briskly with rough towels until their bodies were in a healthy glow, then dressed and set out for the airplane shed.

This was located some distance back from the beach where a long, level stretch of sandy soil, unbroken by tree or bush, made an ideal landing field. The "shed," as the boys termed it, was, in reality, a substantial structure of corrugated iron, well-anch.o.r.ed to resist the severe Atlantic coastal storms. It stood to one side of the route followed by the boys in going from the house to the beach, with the rear to them, and was midway between the two points and concealed from the house by a clump of trees.

When the matter of buying a plane was up for discussion more than a year before, after the boys and Jack Hampton, their absent chum, as well as Mr. Temple--himself an enthusiast about flying--all had become licensed pilots by taking a course at the Mineola flying fields, the question had been whether to buy a hydroplane.

That question finally had been solved by the purchase of a light, all-metal plane capable of carrying two pa.s.sengers besides the pilot and able to alight on water and land. It was not a stock model but was built after a special design. All three boys had flown it, as well as Mr. Temple, and none had ever had an accident. Equipped with a radiophone head set, to which had been added recently a detector designed by Bob and Frank to increase the receiving radius, this plane was the boys' especial pride.

What was their dismay, therefore, when they rounded the shed from the rear and found the great doors which they had left padlocked several days before standing open and the interior empty. For several moments they stood as if rooted to the ground, staring in stupefaction. Then Bob groaned, and Frank echoed him.

"Gone."

"Gone."

Frank was the first to recover from his dismay and ran forward to look at the broken padlock, dangling from one leaf of the great folding doors. "Cut through with a file," he called excitedly to his chum.

"And this set of big bar locks above and below the padlock were cut the same way."

"I always said we should have had one of those rolling iron screens, fitting solidly into the ends of the side walls and rolling up into the roof," groaned Bob, pa.s.sing on into the interior. "But what's the use locking the barn after the horse is stolen." Disconsolately he moved around the interior of the shed, as if expecting to find concealed somewhere the airplane which he could not yet bring himself to believe had been stolen.

Suddenly he let out a whoop. "Frank, look at this."

"Great Scott, an Iron Cross," cried Frank, seizing the object held out. A German Iron Cross it was. "And here you can see how this ribbon frayed through and parted from the clasp," added Frank.

"Turn it over," said Bob. "If it's a real one given by the Kaiser it will have the recipient's name on it."

Sure enough, there it was:

"Ober-Lieutenant Frederik von Arnheim."

And beneath was inscribed:

"Pour le merite."

"Great Scott, Bob," said Frank. "What do you make of this?"