What a smash it was! No one would ever fly that plane again!
Two people were lying tangled up in the wreckage, whether dead or alive Linda could not immediately tell.
At her approach the man in the rear cock-pit opened his eyes and began to move his hands and legs.
"Got a good knife, Linda?" he yelled, to the girl's profound astonishment.
"I'll get one," she replied, wondering how he could possibly know her name. Or was he delirious, and thought he was talking to some other Linda?
Hurrying back to her own plane she took out her thermos flasks and her tool-kit, and returned to the spot of the wreck. It was too dark now to see the men distinctly, until she turned on her flash-light. As she came closer, she saw that the man who had spoken was wriggling himself free. His face was scratched, blood was running down his hands, but he apparently was not seriously hurt.
"Lucky this is an open plane," he muttered. "Now give me a hand, me girl!"
Linda did not like his tone, but she could not refuse to help a human being in distress. Gradually he crawled out.
"Now for Susie!" he announced, as he raised himself unsteadily on his legs.
Linda gasped. Was the other occupant a woman? A thrill of relief passed over her, for she had been terrified at the idea of being alone with such a hard-looking man in this desolate spot.
"A girl?" she stammered, pressing close to the plane.
"Yeah. Me wife. Her name's Susie."
Linda flashed the light under the wreckage of the plane, and distinguished a young woman in a flyer's suit. She was unconscious.
Without another word they both set silently to work to disentangle her. At last they dragged her out – still unconscious. But she evidently was still alive, though the man remarked that her arm must be broken – and maybe an ankle or two. He seemed very matter-of-fact about it all.
"What's in that flask?" he demanded abruptly, of Linda.
"Water," she replied.
"Water!" he snarled angrily. "Water!"
He looked as if he meant to hit her, and Linda recoiled in terror.
"Go hunt my flask in that wreck!" he commanded.
"Do it yourself!" returned Linda, with sudden spirit. "How do I know that that plane won't burst into flames any minute?"
She was surprised at her sudden display of independence; she had always depended upon Louise to stick up for their rights. But she had risen to the occasion, now that she was alone.
The man started to swear, when suddenly the girl on the ground opened her eyes.
"Take care, Slats!" she begged, to Linda's astonishment. "We'll need this girl and her plane – for I can't fly now!"
The man called "Slats" subsided, and went over to the wreckage. Linda bent over the injured "Susie," and put the flask of water to her lips.
Like the man's, the girl's face was scratched and bleeding, and she began to moan of the pain in her wrist. Her helmet had been pushed off, and her blond hair hung about her face. Her lips were painted a brighter red than even blood could have colored them.
"Where are you hurt?" asked Linda, wiping the girl's face with her handkerchief, and pushing the hair out of her eyes.
"My wrist, worst. And this ankle. And my back."
"If I have enough gasoline, we'll take you to a hospital in my plane."
"No! No!" cried the girl, in terror.
"Why not?" questioned Linda.
"You'll find out," replied the other, mysteriously, closing her eyes in pain.
Linda had no way of guessing what she meant, so she sat waiting in silence until the man returned. Five minutes later he appeared with a tank of gasoline, and a flask of brandy, which he gave to his wife to drink.
"We're ready to go now, Linda," he announced. "You can help me carry Susie over to your Bug."
Again Linda started violently at the mention of her own name.
"Do you really know me?" she asked.
"Sure we do! You're Linda Carlton. Think you're about the smartest thing there is in the air today. Bought one of them new-fangled bugs. Ain't that right?"
"Partly," admitted Linda, wincing at the slur in his remark. "But how could you possibly know?"
"Because we are out to get you. Wasn't your story in all the newspapers, tellin' all about this trip of your'n? And ain't your Bug the easiest thing to spot in the air?"
"Out to get me!" repeated Linda. "Do you mean that you wanted to kill me?"
"No, lady. You're more use to us alive than dead – for a while, anyway. No. Our gang decided we could pick up a hundred grand easier by kidnapping you than by swiping jewelry. It was my idea!" He swelled with pride, believing himself exceedingly clever. "And that's what you get for wanting to have your picture and glories in the papers all the time!"
Linda listened wild-eyed to this information, and edged closer to Susie, as if her only protection would be found in the girl.
"So now these is your orders: You fly us to our camp tonight, and we'll keep you there. You can sleep with Susie. We won't hurt you, if you do what we tell you, and don't get fresh, or try to get away. Once you do that, we shoot. And believe me, I can aim – O.K. I've had a sight of practice in my business! I'm a mighty successful man – in my line."
"And what is your line, outside of kidnapping?" asked Linda.
"High-class robbery. Banks. Big jewels. We don't never hold up nobody on the street, for a few dollars. Too petty for us! Nope! We're big men. Slick! Clever! Ask Susie!"
"Does Susie like all this?"
"Sure she does. We winter in Europe, and South America, and she struts around with all the big dames, flashing diamonds and duds that make 'em all look pale… Now come along!"
It was useless to argue or talk any more, so Linda did as she was told, and together they got Susie into the passenger's cock-pit of the autogiro. Her husband sat with her, holding his pistol up threateningly at the back of Linda's head.
"Go where I tell you!" he ordered.
"I haven't much gas," she protested.
"I've got an extra flask here. But I'm not pouring it in till we need it, which I don't think we will. The camp ain't far – on Black Jack Island."
"Black Jack Island," Linda repeated to herself. "What an appropriate name!"
She was terrified, of course, but there was nothing to do except follow directions, and in a few minutes she brought the plane down on the island that the man had specified.
"Leave the Bug here, Linda," he commanded, as he lifted Susie out of the plane. "And go ahead of me, as I tell you."
For several minutes the little procession made their way to the center of the island,
