who have managed to get up here to our door in spite of the soldier standing guard by the gate of our stockade.”
“They must have come from the water side, Frank,” Pudge was heard to say as he followed the others down the stairway that led to the ground.
“Be careful how you step around,” cautioned Frank. “Here, both of you plant a foot alongside mine, and in that way we’ll have a set of prints to go by. Now notice just what they look like, and see if you can find any fresh marks that are different in some way from ours.”
It was an easy task he had set them, for almost immediately Billy sang out to the effect that he had made a discovery, and hardly had he ceased speaking when Pudge announced that he, too, wanted Frank’s opinion on a footprint that was much too large to have been made by any of them.
A further hunt revealed the fact that apparently three parties must have been at the foot of the steps leading up to their locked hangar. This important discovery was anything but pleasant to Frank Chester; it told him that a crisis was undoubtedly approaching their enterprise, which would seriously affect its success or failure.
What if, after all their earnest work, just when the wonderful seaplane had been made ready for a flight, those secret emissaries of the Germans managed to steal it away! Doubtless they had prepared for just such a stroke, and had an experienced air pilot hovering around so as to take charge of the hydro-aëroplane after it was successfully launched.
That would be the last the aëroplane boys would ever see of their valuable property. In time of war all devices are recognized as proper, and this theft of the American seaplane would be hailed as one of the most glorious feats of the German arms, as well as a serious blow at the air power of the Allies.
“There’s only one thing to be done,” said Frank, turning to the stout chum, “if you are game to tackle it, Pudge.”
The fat boy winced but set his teeth hard together.
“Rifles and rattlesnakes, just try me, Frank, that’s all!” he chortled, squaring his shoulders aggressively in a manner the others both knew meant that his fighting blood had been aroused.
“While Billy and I stay here to guard the machine, you must go back to town and get another kind of padlock, Pudge!” exclaimed Frank. “Pick out one that will hold as securely as this does. If we have to change it every day, we’ve got to make a sure thing of it.”
“Was it that you said you meant to speak about after we got inside the hangar, Frank?” inquired Billy as Pudge prepared to start bravely away through the gathering shadows of evening.
“Well, it was something along the same lines,” explained Frank; “in fact, I meant to suggest that one of us stay here nights until we had word from Headquarters that the hour had come to make our test, and prove that the Sea Eagle could stand up against a gale when common seaplanes would go to smash, or have to stay at their moorings.”
“Mumps and mathematics, but I agree with you there, Frank!” cried Pudge. “And for one I’m in favor of camping out here right along. We could rig up a little stove, and cook our meals. It would be good fun at that, because then we’d have the real old-fashioned Yankee grub instead of this French fool stuff that never satisfies a healthy appetite.”
The others looked at Pudge and exchanged nods. They knew his failing, and could sympathize with the poor fellow. Pudge was patriotic enough to prefer the American style of cooking, which always spelled abundance according to his way of thinking.
“I’m off, fellows,” he now announced. “Look for me inside of an hour or so. Of course, it’ll be about dark by then, but I know every stone on the road between here and town, I’ve traveled along the way so often. So long!”
With a genial wave of his hand, Pudge left them. The other pair looked after him with considerable solicitude; there was only one Pudge after all, according to their opinion, and he had a happy faculty for wrapping himself in the affections of his mates.
“You don’t think anything could happen to him going or coming, do you, Frank?” asked Billy Barnes, as they saw Pudge vanish through the partly open gate of the high stockade.
“Why, no; I hardly think so,” replied the other slowly. “Perhaps I should have gone for the padlock myself. If I had thought twice, I would have done that.”
“Too late – Pudge is on the way,” remarked Billy. “Let’s go up and take a peep around once more to see that everything is in apple-pie shape – each wire-stay keyed up to the right tune for efficiency, the motors ready to do business, the gas pump lubricated, and, in fact, our machine fit to toe the scratch as if there were a race on.”
Once they were inside the hangar, Frank fastened the door with a bar that had been arranged for just such a purpose. Then, turning on a flood of light from an acetylene gas battery, they examined every part of the big seaplane. It had something of the appearance of a gigantic sleeping bat as it lay there motionless, but with all the attributes of tremendous power for skimming along on the surface of the water or soaring among the clouds.
“In perfect condition, as far as I can make out!” remarked Frank, after they had completed this careful survey.
“Yes,” added the other, with a glow of excusable enthusiasm on his face, “and if there was any necessity for doing it we could be off with a minute’s notice.”
“I took pains to make sure that there was a clear and uninterrupted stretch of water in front of our hangar,” said Frank. “No vessels are allowed to anchor on this side of the harbor, though there are many transports from Great Britain across the way that have brought men and war material and stores over.”
“Oughtn’t Pudge be about due by now, Frank? It’s pitch dark outside, and I should think a full hour must have crept by since he left us?”
“I was thinking of that myself, Billy. Still, we must remember that our chum is a bit slow on his legs, compared with the way you and I get over the ground. Besides, he may have been delayed at the store where he expects to get the new padlock.”
“Yes, I hadn’t thought of that,” admitted Billy. “But we might use the ’phone we have installed, and find out if he’s started back. It would make our minds a little more easy, you know.”
“Just as you say, Billy. And suppose you call them up while I do something I want to alter here – nothing of consequence, of course, but the change would strike my eye better.”
“All right, Frank.” With which remark Billy turned to one end of the hangar close by, where a telephone apparatus could be seen attached to the wooden wall.
Frank went at his little task with his customary vim. It mattered nothing to him that the flight of the great seaplane would be neither hindered nor assisted by its consummation. He simply liked to see things shipshape at all times.
“What’s the matter, Billy?” he called out presently, on hearing the other ring for the third time, and also muttering to himself as though annoyed.
“Why, Frank, I don’t seem able to get Central,” replied Billy, once more energetically working the handle of the apparatus.
Apparently Frank was enough interested to cross over so as to see for himself what was wrong. He sat down on the box Billy vacated and tried to get in touch with the operator at the central switchboard. After testing it in several ways, Frank replaced the receiver and looked up at his chum.
“Have they disconnected our wire at Central, do you think, Frank; or is the hello girl flirting with her beau, and not paying attention to business?” asked Billy.
“Neither,” answered the other soberly; “but I’m afraid somebody has cut our wire so as to keep us from calling for help if anything happens here to-night!”
CHAPTER III.
SAVING THE GREAT SEAPLANE
“Gee whillikins! that sounds like a serious proposition, Frank!” exclaimed Billy Barnes, when he heard the opinion of his companion.
“It looks as though we’re