won’t tell you,” the boy said.
“What did you mean by stowing away? You might have caused the death of all of us!”
Suddenly the demeanor of the captive changed. “Please, Mister, I really didn’t mean any harm,” he whined. “I’ve been trying to get out West to see my mother, but I didn’t have any money. So I hid in the plane when nobody was looking.”
“That’s a likely story,” Dave said. “Where is your mother?”
“She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico,” sniveled the youth, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.
Doris was not moved in the least by the stowaway’s apparent humbleness. She concluded that he was at least as old as Marshmallow, and she could not possibly imagine that youth cowering and weeping to get out of a scrape.
“My poor old mother,” continued the stowaway. “She is terribly sick, and I wanted to see her before she—she—”
He gulped back a sob.
“Blarney!” snarled Pete, making as if to kick the cowering wretch. “I’ve heard that kind of story before. Now tell the truth!”
“Honest, Mister, I’m telling the truth,” howled the youth.
“Did you know where this ship was bound for?” Dave asked.
“Ra—Hollywood, I mean,” stammered the captive. “You are all movie actors, aren’t you? The girls sure look beautiful enough. I think I saw you in the movies lots of times,” he added, pointing to Doris.
“He can’t tell the truth,” said the disgusted Pete. “Come on, let’s go. We’re losing time.”
“Aw, please listen,” whined the stowaway. “My name is Lone Eagle De Belle. My mother is an Indian princess and my father was a famous opera singer.”
“Ever hear of an opera singer named De Belle?” Dave asked Doris.
Doris shook her head.
“The name does seem familiar—but I’m thinking of Lolita Bedelle, of course!” she exclaimed.
The sallow youth flinched.
“Do you know Miss Bedelle?” Doris demanded.
“What movie was she in?” was the rejoinder.
“Come on,” Pete insisted. “All aboard!”
The two men assisted Doris into the plane. Then Pete leaped in and Dave followed.
“Hey!” wailed the stowaway. “You won’t leave me here?”
“That’s just exactly where we are leaving you,” Dave retorted.
“I’ll get even with you for this!” howled the youth, stamping his feet in fury.
“Don’t try to jump on this plane, either,” warned Dave. “Keep off, do you understand?”
“You’re going to be sorry!” raved the boy.
The roar of the motors as Pete applied the starter drowned out further threats. Dave slammed the door, bolted it, and strode toward his seat, his jaw squared.
Doris, looking out of the window, suddenly saw the stowaway reach down and pick up something from the ground. He drew back his arm and sent a rock flying toward the nearest whirling propeller.
Fortunately, the plane lurched forward at just the right moment and the stone bounced harmlessly from the metal shield that protected the motor.
Abruptly Pete cut the engines, applied the brakes and flung himself from his seat.
“I’ll teach that cub a lesson!” he yelled as he leaped from the plane. But the culprit was already dashing away with a hundred yard lead, The fuming pilot resumed his seat and the great plane took the air.
“I’m afraid that we haven’t seen the last of ‘Lone Eagle,’” Doris mused.
CHAPTER VIII
Raven Rock
The sun seemed to be the bull’s eye at which the great plane was aimed. Doris wondered how the pilots could stand the glare.
“I wonder where we are,” she said to herself. “No more hills down below, and it’s getting pretty late. I guess I’m like Huckleberry Finn who thought each state was actually a different color, like the maps in the geography books—”
Doris looked up and saw that Dave was signaling to her.
She went forward and took the slip of paper that he offered.
“We are coming to Indianapolis,” she read. “We think it safest not to stop at the big airports in case the thieves are looking for us. We will go on a little way.”
Doris nodded her approval and returned to her seat, to watch eagerly for Indianapolis. They had passed over many big cities, but to the passengers they had been nameless.
To Doris’s mild disappointment Indianapolis was not crossed. The plane veered to the left of the city when it was but a smudge of smoke in the distance, and roared on high above the sun-parched Indiana prairie.
Smaller towns flitted past beneath them. Looking back, Doris could see the shadow of the airplane pursuing them over the fields.
Then, suddenly, the tune of the motors changed. Built up streets appeared beneath, and another good-sized city was spread out like a map to the air travelers’ view. Railroad tracks and roadways converged.
The plane lost altitude. Doris saw a river snaking along, and recognized the wind-vane and bare earth of an airport. A small blue plane was taking off in a cloud of reddish dust.
Pete circled the field, waggled his wings in signal, and brought his craft down to an almost jar-less halt. He taxied across to the biggest hangar, the motors snorted once, and were still.
“Terre Haute! All out!” shouted Dave.
A uniformed field official, with the words “Dresser Field” embroidered on his cap, awaited the travelers as they stepped from the plane.
After formal greetings were exchanged Pete went off with the official to arrange for shelter for the plane, while the others rubbed their ears to drive away the singing echoes of the motors.
“Taxi? Anywhere in the city for a dollar,” they were solicited by half a dozen men.
Mrs. Mallow signaled to the best dressed of the taxi drivers, and Dave passed out the luggage to Marshmallow who in turn handed it over to the hackman.
“How do you feel now, Mrs. Mallow?” Doris asked.
“Thankful to have solid earth under my feet again,” that lady replied. “But I must admit that flying is not as terrible as I thought it would be. In fact, I might grow to like it.”
The
