Part 19 (1/2)

”It was the smugglers, without a doubt,” declared Mr. Whitford. ”You can't get away from this place any too soon, Tom. Get a new hiding spot, and I will communicate with you there.”

”But they are on the watch,” objected Ned. ”They'll see where we go, and follow us. The next time they may succeed in smas.h.i.+ng the lantern.”

”And if they do,” spoke Tom, ”it will be all up with trying to detect the smugglers, for it would take me quite a while to make another searchlight. But I have a plan.”

”What is it?” asked the government agent.

”I'll make a flight to-day,” went on the young inventor, ”and sail over quite an area. I'll pick out a good place to land, and we'll make our camp there instead of here. Then I'll come back to this spot, and after dark I'll go up, without a light showing. There's no moon to-night, and they'll have pretty good eyes if they can follow me, unless they get a searchlight, and they won't do that for fear of giving themselves away. We'll sail off in the darkness, go to the spot we have previously picked out, and drop down to it. There we can hide and I don't believe they can trace us.”

”But how can you find in the darkness, the spot you pick out in daylight?” Mr. Whitford wanted to know.

”I'll arrange some electric lights, in a certain formation in trees around the landing place,” said Tom. ”I'll fix them with a clockwork switch, that will illuminate them at a certain hour, and they'll run by a storage battery. In that way I'll have my landing place all marked out, and, as it can only be seen from above, if any of the smugglers are on the ground, they won't notice the incandescents.”

”But if they are in their airs.h.i.+p they will,” said Mr. Damon.

”Of course that's possible,” admitted Tom, ”but, even if they see the lights I don't believe they will know what they mean. And, another thing, I don't imagine they'll come around here in their airs.h.i.+p when they know that we're in the neighborhood, and when the spy who endeavored to damage my lantern reports that he didn't succeed. They'll know that we are likely to be after them any minute.”

”That's so,” agreed Ned. ”I guess that's a good plan.”

It was one they adopted, and, soon after Mr. Whitford's visit the airs.h.i.+p arose, with him on board, and Tom sent her about in great circles and sweeps, now on high and again, barely skimming over the treetops. During this time a lookout was kept for any other aircraft, but none was seen.

”If they are spying on us, which is probably the case,” said Tom, ”they will wonder what we're up to. I'll keep 'em guessing. I think I'll fly low over Mr. Foger's house, and see if Andy has his airs.h.i.+p there. We'll give him a salute.”

Before doing this, however, Tom had picked out a good landing place in a clearing in the woods, and had arranged some incandescent lights on high branches of trees. The lights enclosed a square, in the centre of which the Falcon was to drop down.

Of course it was necessary to descend to do this, to arrange the storage battery and the clock switch. Then, so as to throw their enemies off their track, they made landings in several other places, though they did nothing, merely staying there as a sort of ”bluff”

as Ned called it.

”They'll have their own troubles if they investigate every place we stopped at,” remarked Tom, ”and, even if they do hit on the one we have selected for our camp they won't see the lights in the trees, for they're well hidden.”

This work done, they flew back toward Logansville, and sailed over Andy's house.

”There he is, on the roof, working at his airs.h.i.+p!” exclaimed Ned, as they came within viewing distance, and, surely enough, there was the bully, tinkering away at his craft. Tom flew low enough down to speak to him, and, as the Falcon produced no noise, it was not difficult to make their voices heard.

”h.e.l.lo, Andy!” called Tom, as he swept slowly overhead.

Andy looked up, but only scowled.

”Nice day; isn't it?” put in Ned.

”You get on away from here!” burst out the bully. ”You are trespa.s.sing, by flying over my house, and I could have you arrested for it. Keep away.”

”All right,” agreed Tom with a laugh. ”Don't trespa.s.s by flying over our s.h.i.+p, Andy. We also might have a gun to shoot searchlights with,” he added.

Andy started, but did not reply, though Tom, who was watching him closely, thought he saw an expression of fear come over the bully's face.

”Do you think it was Andy who did the shooting?” asked Ned.

”No, he hasn't the nerve,” replied Tom. ”I don't know what to think about that affair last night.”

”Excepting that the smugglers are getting afraid of you, and want to get you out of the way,” put in the custom official.