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Airplane Boys among the Clouds

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<h2 id="id00529" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER X</h2> <h5 id="id00530">IN PARTNERSHIP WITH THE CHIEF</h5> Frank breathed a little faster than ordinary but there was little else to indicate that he had heard startling news. "And now, Frank, don't forget that you promised to take me in on this," the head of the local force went on, persuasively. "You remember that we stood by you at that other time, and rounded Jules up in great shape. Seems like we might have to do it again, sort of history repeating itself. How did you know about it?" "I didn't, sir, and that's the queer part it," replied the boy. "Then you suspected something of the sort—did you run across Jules on the road; or has he been trying to steal your aeroplane again?" continued Chief Waller. "Neither one nor the other, sir. But some unknown person fired a rifle at our biplane today, when we were passing over those woods near the old shack. The bullet came within a few feet of us, as I can show you, for it passed through both planes. That looks as if the scamp meant to do us real harm. And it set me to thinking and guessing, with the result that I made up my mind to come to you, and find out if Jules was still safe behind the bars." "Well, this is something I'll have to look into," bustled the stout Chief, as he pushed back his chair. "Up in the Powell woods, you said; that makes it look as if it must be him; because he hid there before, you know." "If it had happened anywhere else, I guess I'd never have thought about Jules, sir," Frank candidly admitted. "But you see, we were just talking about our other adventure when the shot came; and somehow, it was natural to connect the two. But it seems foolish for him to come back to the old place again." "When you know slick rascals as well as I do, Frank, you'll understand that they often do just what everybody never dreams they'd be silly enough to try. That's the tricky part of the game, you see. Ordinarily that woods is the last place we'd think of looking for Jules. It ought to have an evil name for him, and make him shun it. You see, that's the way we'd just naturally dope it out." "I see now, sir. And then again, all of the plunder taken from Leffingwell's establishment was never recovered, I heard. Perhaps Jules has got a plant somewhere up in those woods, and came back to get the stuff?" Frank suggested. "A bright thought for you, my boy!" cried the Chief. "Of course that sort of thing would strike me the first thing; but for you too speak of it proves that you have a clever mind. Yes, undoubtedly Jules has come back for the loot." "And then," Frank went on, steadily; "just by accident he happened to hear our propellers buzzing, and looking up recognized the two boys who had so much to do with his being nabbed last summer. He couldn't resist the temptation to have a pot shot at us, hoping to pay the Bird boys back for their share in his capture." "Yes, sometimes even the sharpest of them fall down," the head of the local police continued; "and before we're done with him Jules will realize that when he allowed himself to give way to temptation he did the most foolish thing possible, for it puts us on his track, and we'll get him again. I want to thank you too, Frank, because you see, there will be quite a little reward paid for the recapture of so notorious a convict as Garrone." "Oh! you're quite welcome, sir," replied Frank. "I was just thinking whether, if that was Jules, and he saw that his shot did no damage, he mightn't decide to pay us a visit in the night, and try some more funny business." "Well, now, I wouldn't put it past him a particle, Frank," remarked the Chief, promptly; "and if I were in your place I'd be on my guard. He might try to steal your new biplane I've heard them talking about; or even burn down your whole outfit. Better get a gun, and keep watch. He's fair game, you know, if so be you catch him prowling around after dark. An escaped convict hasn't any rights in the eye of the law." "I wouldn't like to be the one to shoot him," Frank observed; "but if he came around as you say, I'd want to be in a position to defend my property, and give him a good scare." The Chief asked a lot more questions, which Frank answered as well as he was able. He could see that he had stirred the police head greatly, and that before long all the available men on the force would be making for the direction of the Powell woods, bent on rounding up the lurking Jules, if so be it had been him, as seemed so probable now. Frank had left his chair and started for the door, when something chanced to strike him, so that he turned back. "I don't suppose now, Chief, you happen to know the two gentlemen who blew into Bloomsbury yesterday in a touring car, and are perhaps quartered at the hotel here. They go by the names of Mr. Marsh and Mr. Longley?" "I understood that two gents did put up there; but I saw them go off this morning in their car, and supposed they were leaving," replied the other. "If you glance out of the door right now, Chief, you will see the parties dropping out of their machine right in front of the hotel," Frank remarked, quietly. Accordingly the other moved over so that he could look out, immediately remarking: "Sho! that's a fact, just as you say, Frank. Come back to dinner, I reckon; for old Barnwell does set a good table in the Quality Inn. I've seen twenty cars parked in his dooryard of a Sunday. And these parties like his style, it seems." "But why should they say that their car needed overhauling, and that they might as well have it done in Bloomsbury? You can see it's a right new one, and runs as smooth as silk," Frank remarked. "They said that, did they? Who to, Frank?" asked the other. So Frank had to go back and relate what had occurred at the time Andy dropped from the hydroplane into Lake Sunrise, and saved little Tommy Cragan from becoming food for the fishes. Of course the policeman was not able to look at the matter from the same standpoint that Frank and Andy had. All the same, he admitted that the actions of the two touring gentlemen did look a bit queer. "I'll take the first chance I get to look 'em over, Frank, and learn who they really are," he said, in conclusion. "Of course that'll have to wait, since I've got this other business on my hands, which is of greater importance, you know." "You don't think, do you, sir, that either of them could be this Jules Garrone in disguise?" suggested Frank. Chief Waller caught his breath. "Whew; that is a notion, now, ain't it?" he exclaimed. "From what I've learned about that rascal I wouldn't put it past him to be up to some clever dodge equal to that? The bolder the game the less danger of discovery. See here, Frank, you say you was close to these parties; and sure you ought to remember Jules—now, think a bit, and then tell me if you can imagine him playing such a part?" "Oh! I have been hammering my brain for a long time over that, Chief," Frank answered, with a slight smile. "And what conclusion did you reach, Frank?" "That neither of them could hardly be Jules," came the ready reply. "I only mentioned the thing to see how it struck you. In the first place, Jules was smaller than either of those men; and he couldn't hardly have grown under prison fare, you know. Then he had black hair, and neither of these have. Besides, Longley wears a mustache, and no convict could grow one in a week. While such eyes as Marsh has I could never, never forget, once I felt them fastened on me." "Well, I'll have one of my men keep an eye on the gents as long as they stay at the Quality Inn. Going now, Frank? Shake hands again, will you; and remember, anything we can do for you, just ask. This is great news you've brought here today, and it may mean a heap for me." When Frank went outside and mounted his wheel he never once glanced across the square to where the car of Mr. Marsh stood. True, neither of the parties happened to be visible just then; but how was he to know but what they might be looking out from behind the filmy lace curtains with which Mine Host Barnwell decorated his front parlor windows? He rode straight home, and reaching his den where he kept all his belongings in the line of sport, took down from the wall a double-barrel shotgun, with which he had had many a day's pleasure in the past. From a drawer he also gathered up half a dozen shells, carrying Number Ten shot; which Frank calculated would tickle rather than severely injure, if used with discretion, at a certain distance. After spending a short time at home, and not seeing his father, the good doctor, who was off in his car paying his morning calls, Frank again mounted his wheel, and headed toward the home of his cousin. He had much to ponder over as he proceeded, making no pretense at speed; for he was carrying the gun in one hand. It was not a very pleasant thought, that at any minute almost he might run across that revengeful Jules, bent on paying back the debt he chose to believe he owed the young aviator. Frank was almost tempted to stop, alight, and place a couple of shells in the gun, so as to be ready for any emergency that might arise. "Shucks! what's getting you, Frank Bird?" he exclaimed, as he laughed at the idea of being held up in that fashion on the public highway. "Just make up your mind nothing's going to happen to you; and that if Jules did come back to the Powell woods he's started away by now, full tilt. I'm ashamed of you, that's what. If it was Andy now, he's so full of imagination he sees lots of things that never exist; but you know better. Why, whatever can that smoke mean? And as sure as anything, it seems to be rising straight over the field where our shop lies!" He immediately increased his speed, and went flying along the crooked road, bent on reaching a point where he could see the open, and ascertain if his worst fears were going to be realized. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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