The Banner Boy Scouts in the Air

Wallace hesitated but finally he took it and put it into his pocket. They walked over to the car. All the windows were shattered and one tire was flat. Wallace said, “A couple of holes in the gas tank.”

Woods looked and then remarked, “We can plug the holes up; they are not at the bottom of the tank which is something to be thankful for. And we will have enough gas in there to make the ten miles.”

The two of them set to work. Under the front seat they found tools with which to remove the flat tire and put on the spare. Getting into the car, the agent started it up and they were off. Wallace showed him the road and Woods hurried to get to the cave. After a while, he laughed and asked, “Well, how did you enjoy the little shooting match?”

“I can’t say that I particularly enjoyed it. It’s too bad that Bud was killed.”

“I guess you’re right, boy. I don’t enjoy killing anyone either. But sometimes it just can’t be helped.”

“I guess that’s true, Mr. Woods. But it is too bad that it ever has to be done.”

“Well, when we get a better social system in which men and women will have no reason to be dishonest then there won’t be any shooting of anyone, I guess.”

Wallace had nothing to say, so he kept quiet. After a while, the government agent said, “When you come to think of it, you had more to do with the death of that gangster than I did.”

“How do you mean?” questioned Wallace anxiously.

“You threw the stone and forced him to expose himself.”

“Yes, but you did the shooting.”

“Of course, but—well, never mind. Let’s talk of something else.”

They rode along, the agent telling a cheerful anecdote while Wallace listened.

CHAPTER XIX

At The Cave Again

By the time all the boys had washed and dressed, William had breakfast ready. Most of them were tense and impatient, but on the whole, they felt good. Leaving Jack behind to keep guard at the camp and clean up the dishes in the meanwhile, the boys set out for the cave. At their destination, the boys separated, each going to his station where he lay in hiding and watched. As the hours passed slowly and wearily, most of the boys became a little cranky and impatient. Paul decided to go from boy to boy, talk to him for a while and try to calm him.

At noon, Bluff was sent back to camp and Jack returned with sandwiches he had prepared and canteens of ice cold water from the stream. Paul went to each boy in turn and passed out the sandwiches and a drink of water. And again it became a matter of watchful and patient waiting. Jack, lying close to Paul, asked, “You think they’ll come today?”

“It’s hard to tell. But they are about due.”

“Mr. Woods thinks that they will surely appear today.” Pause. Deadly silence except for the breeze fluttering through the branches and leaves. “You know,” Jack added, “this is getting on my nerves already. I’d like to see it come off and be through with it.”

“Patience, Jack,” his friend continued, “you can’t hurry a situation like this.”

Paul moved away and went to keep someone else company for a while.

At about six o’clock, Jack, who was watching the road, was suddenly brought out of his lethargic position. Sprawling on the ground, he thought he heard the sound of a motor. Putting his ear to the earth, he listened for some moments to the rumbling sounds that came to his ear. The car was several hundred yards away yet when he spied it. Quickly and noiselessly, he picked himself up and sprinted away. He came upon Paul and told him the news. Not hesitating in the least, Paul told him where to take up his position and what to do. Then Paul ran on and passed the word for all of them to be on the alert.

Paul returned and took his place beside Jack. As they waited, every second seemed to stretch out into an hour. Those who were in the car—whoever they were—were apparently in no hurry. Finally, after what seemed an endless wait, Paul nudged Jack and pointed out two moving figures. Holding their breaths, they watched and waited. The boys were quite positive that the moving figures would head for the clearing and cross it. Then they were greeted by a surprise—a shocking surprise—that awaited them. But they were disappointed. Jack whispered, “They’re heading this way.”

“Yes. You think they have any suspicion of what’s awaiting them?”

“I don’t think it matters. Our plan takes care of anything that might be different than we expect.”

The boys kept quiet. Two figures passed within five feet of them. Jack began to fidget as the figures were passing. Paul had a hard time controlling him, keeping him from talking. As the two men passed, Jack whispered, “There’s something familiar about the fellow in the lead; something about his walk.”

“I was just going to say the same.”

The boys held their breaths. As the two men approached one of the traps, they stopped. Some whispering went on between them, as though one was explaining something to the other. A minute later, the one who had been doing all the explaining, put his fingers between his lips and gave a low, shrill whistle. Jack wanted to jump up and run over. “The one who whistled is Wallace,” he whispered as Paul held him.

“Most likely is, but let’s wait and make sure.”

There was a pause of a minute or so. Again the man whistled, then they both waved handkerchiefs. Paul and Jack then came out of hiding as they finally recognized Tom Woods and Wallace. Jack was sent to notify the other boys and to instruct them to continue their watch. In the meanwhile, the three of them withdrew to take counsel together. The government agent said, “You boys have it all fixed up here. A man couldn’t get away to save his life. I think you have done marvelously well.”

Paul smiled. “We have laid our plans very carefully,” he answered, “and we hope everything will come off all right.”

“I hope so too.”

Just then an airplane fell out of the sky and dived straight for the ground. Straightening out at about five hundred feet up, the plane circled the field several times. Wallace whispered, “That’s the same plane we told you about. We saw it land here once before. I remember it well.”

Tom Woods barked, “Keep quiet now and don’t move; we may be seen from above.”

“No chance of that, sir,” answered Paul. “From up above they can’t see a thing except the top of the trees. We had better hurry and take our positions before they land.”

With Paul in the lead, the three of them sprinted from cover to cover and took their positions. At the last moment the government agent told the boys to hurry and move away somewhere else—take some other position. If there was any shooting, he didn’t want them to be in line of fire.

The boys moved off. The plane in the meanwhile had glided down to a landing. It was quite a large, powerful ship with a double motor. Two men jumped to the ground. The one in the lead was recognized by the boys as the Chief. Very unconcernedly, the two walked across the clearing and headed directly for the cave. As they came to the edge of the woods, the chief, for no reason and without any provocation as far as it could be determined, whipped a gun out of his pocket and fired across the top of the cave. Tom Woods, who thought that he was firing at one of the boys, sent a bullet whistling past their heads. The trap which the boys had laboriously prepared and set was now a futile gesture. Whereas if they had walked into the trap as set, there would have been no bloodshed; now it seemed inevitable.

The two gangsters now dropped to the ground and sent bullets whistling in a semi-circle. To rise and dash back to their plane was suicide. They would be in the open, a clear and perfect target for Tom Woods’ bullets. On the other hand, dropping to the ground and taking shelter where they did, they forestalled being surrounded by the boys. As for the government agent, there was nothing he could do to obtain a more advantageous position. Of course, he could have one of the boys keep up a withering fire while he crept to their side or their rear. But he was against risking the life of any one of the boys.

For a while only occasional shots were exchanged. Suddenly Tom became aware that the two gangsters had devised a means of escape, if not for both, at least for one of them. The two were separating, moving further apart slowly and gradually. The agent realized that their plan was to separate a certain distance, so that one of them would keep him occupied while the other crept back to the plane. It was a clever and subtle plan and from every indication it appeared that they would succeed. They were also most probably aware that only one man faced them. Under that condition, there was nothing Tom could do that would prevent the one who got back to the plane from returning with help. Or possibly he might bring out of the plane a machine gun, and that would be enough to wipe him out. He became really worried. What could he do to prevent one of them from reaching the plane.

He determined that as long as it was possible for him to do so, he would fire alternately at both racketeers and occupy both of them. He also wondered what the boys were doing. “But,” he thought to himself, “I had better keep from thinking of anything else and concentrate my attention on those two gangsters. I’m positive the boys will be able to take care of themselves.”

Tom noticed that slowly and gradually the gangster on his right was moving backwards, and each time he fired at the moving form, he was answered by the second man, the one on his left. The spasmodic shooting kept up for almost half an hour. Suddenly there was heard the roar of the airplane motor; in an instant, the machine was turning into the wind and taxiing for a take-off. Both Tom Woods as well as the gangsters were so surprised that they almost forgot each other. As the plane was still taxiing across the field, one of the racketeers sent a couple of ineffective bullets after the machine; but the shots did no harm. The plane rose off the ground easily. Tom rationalized to himself, “Whoever it was that escaped with the plane, couldn’t be a friend of theirs, or he wouldn’t have fired at it.”

Tom’s ammunition was running low and he could answer only one shot to his enemy’s three or four. Five or ten minutes after the plane had gotten away, he was again astounded to realize that someone was firing at the gangsters from their rear. “Must be Wallace,” he thought to himself.

And so it was. Paul and he had withdrawn at the behest of Tom Woods. Eagerly they watched the battle. Several times Wallace wanted to use the gun the government agent had given him but Paul held him back. They, too, soon became aware of the manoeuver of the two gangsters to permit one of them to return to the plane. Cautioning Wallace on how to behave himself and what to do, Paul crept away and was soon out of sight. A short while later Wallace heard the roar of the motor and he heaved a sigh of relief as he watched the plane take off. He was positive that one of his comrades was escaping with the plane, though he couldn’t imagine who. As for himself, now was the time to act, he thought; the two were trapped. Moving closer to the edge of the woods and picking out a sound shelter and one that placed him well to the rear of the gangsters, he aimed carefully and fired his first shot.

Now to return to Tom Woods, the government agent. Realizing that someone was attacking from the rear, perhaps it was Wallace or maybe Paul, he tried to trick the gangsters into surrendering, “You better throw down your guns and surrender, you two,” he called out. “That was the signal that my men have arrived. You can’t get away now.”

“We’ll give you hell first,” cried the chief.

“Very well, then,” returned the agent. “I’ll count three. If you don’t surrender, I’ll give my men the signal to blast you to hell. One!”

The smugglers answered with a volley of shots. “Two!” cried Tom.

The gangsters withheld their fire. They waited. “Three!” The word echoed through the stillness of the woods.

“Go to hell!” answered the chief. “How the devil did you ever break your chains and escape, you flatfoot?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” countered Tom.

“Yes, tell me.”

“When I have you in jail. Then I’ll pay you a visit and tell you all about it.”

“I should have cut your throat instead of merely chaining you.”

“Why didn’t you? Soft-hearted or something?”

The chief answered with his gun. Tom raised his voice and cried, loud enough to be heard a mile away, “All right! Shoot to kill.”

He had two guns and he shot from both of them as quickly as he could pull the trigger. Wallace, who heard him, took the cue and also emptied his revolver. The effect was that the two smugglers seemed to be attacked on all sides.

Silence ensued, suddenly broken by a shot coming from a third direction. A piercing cry cut short the echo of the bullet. The chief bounded up from the ground and then fell back again, dead. Tom wondered who it was that had shot. He took advantage of it, however, and called out, “Hey, Smoky, do you want to give up or do you want to join your chief?”

There was a pause. Smoky answered, “I want to give up. Tell your men not to fire.”

Tom cried out, “Hold your fire!” To the gangster, he said, “Now, drop your gun and stand up.” The smuggler complied. “Raise your hands above your head. Now turn around. You make one move and you’ll go home in a box.”

Smoky complied willingly. The government agent dashed from one cover to another, his gun ready for action should the smuggler change his mind. Finally, stepping forward softly, he came up behind the gangster. Taking a short piece of rope that he carried in his pocket, the agent tied the smuggler’s hands behind his back. Just then Wallace stepped forth out of the woods, and handed Tom several yards of sturdy rope which the agent used to tie the smuggler’s hands and feet. That done, he turned to the boy and said, “I think it’s all right now to get the boys together.”

Wallace nodded. He whistled three times and the boys crept like shadows through the woods. They met in front of the cave. The government agent looked at the boys, their expressions still set and determined and their eyes full of wonder and anxiety. He laughed. “Everything is all right now, boys. You may relax.” He turned to Paul and asked, “Where did you get that rifle?”

Paul scrutinized his weapon. “Inside the cave,” he answered. “Bullets too.”

“And you were the one that shot the chief?”

Paul looked away embarrassed. “I was terribly surprised to see him topple over. Because I didn’t even aim at him.”

The boys and the government agent joined in laughing heartily. “So!” Tom muttered, twisting the words into a humorous expression, “You don’t aim but you hit the bull’s eye just the same!”

Their laughter was interrupted by the roar of an airplane overhead. They watched the machine lose altitude gradually and continually circle around and around. When it was at about a thousand feet, Wallace exclaimed, “It’s the same machine.”

“Who escaped with the plane, by the way?” asked Tom Woods.

The boys looked at each other. “Who is missing?” asked Paul.

“William.”

“Jack.”

“Anyone else?”

“Bluff, but he’s at camp.”

“Then it must have been William and Jack who are in the plane,” Paul stated.

“Then you had better wave to them. Signal them to land,” said the agent.

They all ran to the clearing and waved. As the huge machine showed that it was going to land, all of them retreated, so that the plane might have a perfectly clear space in order to land. Tom remarked, “I didn’t know you had aviators among your group.”

Wallace informed him, “Six of us are pilots.”

“And you never told me!” The agent said that he was angry that they had kept the information from him. “In the meanwhile,” he called out, “you boys take shelter. It doesn’t pay to take chances and we really don’t know who is in the plane.”

The boys took up hiding positions and watched the machine descend to a perfect landing.

CHAPTER XX

Battle In The Sky

While those on the ground were so occupied with the fight they did not notice a battle going on above their heads; a battle between two planes.

When the plane landed with the smugglers, Jack was with Paul and Wallace. As soon as the first shot was fired, his first thought was that the crooks might use the plane to escape in. So he whispered to his two companions that he would return to his former station and watch the road; possibly, others of the gang might drive up and it would be best to spy them before they had a chance of becoming acquainted with the situation. Paul thought it was an excellent idea and he permitted Jack to carry out his plan.

As Jack moved noiselessly away, Wallace wanted to enter the conflict and Paul restrained him. Then Paul went away and left Wallace by himself. The latter immediately moved into position and was going to fire when his attention was attracted by a creeping shadow at the farther end of the field. By the form and outline of the moving figure, he guessed it was Jack. And for that reason, he withheld his fire—so that the attention of the smugglers might not be attracted to the figure moving toward the machine.

Jack was a short distance away from the plane when he became aware that someone else—almost at a right angle to him—was also creeping toward the machine. He flattened out in the grass to wait and see who the other creeping figure was. For a short while he lay there hugging the earth, not daring to move or lift his head even slightly to see who the creeping figure might be. After about five minutes, a pebble fell near him and Jack flattened out still more. In a minute another pebble fell near him, followed by a hissing sound. He lifted his head very slightly and out of the corner of his eye saw the other person wave a finger at him. He decided that it must be one of the boys and he continued dragging himself across the earth toward the plane.

Jack and William crept up to the under-carriage of the plane almost simultaneously. William whispered, “Inside.”

Without any further hesitation, William swung himself up and into the plane. Jack waited. A hissing sound came to his ears and he knew it was the signal for him to follow. Up he went and into the plane. Both boys heaved a sigh of relief. William got into the pilot’s seat. “Now to take her up into the air,” he muttered.

“You think you can fly her? She’s a pretty large ship, you know.”

“I can try. In the meanwhile, you go in the back and look around.”

Jack nodded and proceeded to obey. William studied the dashboard as well as all the other gadgets everywhere around him. Though he had never flown this type of ship, he was sure he knew how. Major McCarthy had explained it to him in detail and he now knew exactly what to do. He only hoped that the motor wouldn’t falter or need warming up, because that would necessitate the loss of precious time. But he didn’t think so because the motor was still warm from its previous trip. He was right. Everything went off beautifully. Every single gadget responded to his slightest touch. The motor roared, the ship turned into the wind and giving the ship a sufficient run, it took off like a great bird winging into the sky.

William was thrilled and exhilarated. He felt the power flowing into him through his finger tips which rested lightly on the joystick. Jack came forward “How is she flying?” he asked.

“Beautifully. What did you find back there?”

“Nothing much. Some boxes, a couple of small wooden cases, two revolvers in one of the lockers, and also two boxes of cartridges.”

“You had better bring the revolvers and cartridges here. Most likely we’ll have no opportunity of using them but we might as well be prepared.”

“I thought so too,” answered Jack. “I have them right here.”

“Good.”

They were climbing. When they reached an altitude of about four thousand feet, William guided the machine away so that his companions and all the others below would not see the plane and would think that he had flown away. He flew in an extended circle and kept circling around and around. Jack asked, “What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know myself. What do you suggest?”

“How about flying to the airport and getting Major McCarthy and maybe the police?”

“I don’t know whether that would be of any help.” responded William. “By the time we come back, their help would be of no use. On the other hand, if we stick around here and watch how the situation below unfolds itself, we may be of some help. They may need our revolvers and ammunition and we might drop them. Or they might need us for something else.”

“That’s true. But then again, if we should land, perhaps those smugglers will get the ship again and make their escape.”

“I can fix that very easily,” explained William. “I’ll cut the ignition.”

“That’s right. Never thought of it.”

The boys continued their circling flight. Some five minutes elapsed when William caught sight of another plane making its appearance on the eastern horizon. Coming nearer, they saw that the machine was heading directly towards them. “You think he’s coming at us?” asked Jack.

“Let’s wait and see.”

The plane was soon upon them. The boys recognized it as a Bristol, a small craft but possessing a powerful motor, modeled after army pursuit planes. The Bristol flanked the boys on their right side and flew along. The pilot was making signs to William which the latter could not understand; besides he was too intent on piloting his plane to pay any attention to him. He called to his companion, “Can you make out what he wants, Jack?”

Jack was already at the window and watching the other craft. “No,” he answered. “He holds his fist up and moves it in a circular motion and then points down. I can’t understand what that means. Can you?”

“Perhaps he wants to land and is asking us about a safe place to land.”

“I doubt it,” answered Jack. “He doesn’t seem to be in any trouble. And coming from the direction he did, he must have passed the Stanhope airport.” There was a pause while Jack continued to watch. “I think he’s using his wireless,” he called out. “See if you can pick him up.”

William inserted a plug and turned a disc on the dashboard. Half a minute later, William nosed his plane into a dive and was off. But the Bristol was right on its tail. “That guy is a confederate of those smugglers,” hissed William. “He was asking if the stuff was on board and we were ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“He didn’t say. Just asked if we were ready.”

The next moment they heard a sharp sound and knew that the pilot of the Bristol had fired at them, the bullet burying itself in some part of the fuselage or wings. William brought the nose up and began to climb. Simultaneously he cried, “Load the revolvers, Jack, and see if you can fire back.”

William wondered what he could do to get the pursuing plane off his trail. He banked and dived again and came up climbing. Jack broke a window, stuck his hand out and fired point blank at the nose of the Bristol. He pulled the trigger fast and emptied his revolver. A bullet must have struck close to the pilot, for the next instant the Bristol dived.

The Bristol was a much faster plane, easier to manoeuver than the craft the boys were in. “What are you going to do now?” queried Jack anxiously.

“I’m going up into the clouds and try to shake him.”

But the next instant Jack cried out, “He’s coming right up and it looks as though he intends to hit you amidships.”

“Fire when he comes close enough, and when I hear you fire the first shot I’ll bank right and dive.”

Jack pulled the trigger and William performed a half arc and dived; the Bristol zoomed past so close that Jack held his breath. William levelled out and began to climb again, hoping this time to reach the clouds. But again the Bristol was upon them and sending bullets into the fuselage and wings. William, however, kept on climbing and Jack frustrated the other fellow’s getting on their tail by firing point blank at the nose of the Bristol. For a moment the enemy craft disappeared and then William discovered it overhead. They heard the muffled thud of bullets sinking into their craft but doing no harm. The next instant William cried, “He’s flying away.”

“You think he has given up?”

“Maybe he—” William left off in the middle of the sentence and gasped as he watched the Bristol execute an Immelmann turn. He intended to fly straight into the craft, firing as he did so and hoping to hit the gas tank, and dive just in time to avoid a crash. William was aware of the manoeuver. “You better lay low, Jack,” he cried.