“Risks!” snorted Marshmallow. “Why, there is—”
“At least we need not discuss it here on the porch,” Mrs. Mallow exclaimed. “Come in, Dave. Kitty, you must be tired and dusty. Marshall will carry your bags to Doris’s room.”
“Wait here and try to convince Mrs. Mallow, Dave,” Doris commanded her friend in a whisper as she led her guest upstairs. “I will be right down.”
Indeed, she was on Marshmallow’s heels a moment later, and the two settled themselves to listen to Dave quoting endless statistics to prove to Mrs. Mallow that flying was far less dangerous than doing ordinary housework.
“I wish you could see the ships rolling in and out of a big airport, Mrs. Mallow,” he said earnestly. “All day long one can see huge transport planes coming in from the Pacific coast, from Canada, from Florida, just like trains.
“There are waiting rooms and crowds of people no more excited than if they were taking the ferry to the Statue of Liberty. Red Caps are putting baggage in the planes and taking it out, men and women and little children land fresh as daisies not even hungry for supper, although they had lunch in a place six hundred miles away!”
“I’m going to take some sandwiches, just the same,” Marshmallow murmured.
At this juncture Kitty entered the room, having refreshed herself after her journey. Although not as strikingly pretty as her chum and schoolmate Doris, Kitty was attractive enough to command attention anywhere. Indeed, with affected indifference, Marshmallow was not long in sauntering across the room to a seat beside her on the davenport.
“I know, I guess I am old-fashioned,” Mrs. Mallow admitted. “But the thought of rushing through the clouds almost clear across the United States makes me uneasy.”
“The plane is brand-new, Mrs. Mallow, but it has been tested under all sorts of conditions,” Dave went on. “Pete did everything but fly her upside down this morning. He told me she almost flies herself.”
“Who is this Pete?” Mrs. Mallow asked cautiously.
“Pete? Why, Pete Speary!” Dave seemed surprised to find someone who did not know Pete. “He has flown thousands of hours with never an accident except when he was shot down in the World War.”
“Oh, a war aviator!” Doris exclaimed. “How thrilling! Is he a hero, a real ace?”
“Ye-es.” Dave showed a trace of jealousy in his voice. “He was in the famous Rochambeau Escadrille before we entered the war. He was only seventeen then. He became a captain in the American Air Forces, and on top of that he joined the Pulaski Escadrille of American aviators who enlisted to help the Polish Republic fight off the Bolsheviki.
“A hero? Why, he has dozens of medals. He was shot down in flames three times, and brought down thirty enemy planes!”
“I’m just dying to meet him!” Doris cried.
“And so am I!” exclaimed Kitty. “You will consent, Mrs. Mallow, won’t you?” begged the girl earnestly.
“Huh, he must be kind of old by now,” Marshmallow grunted, uneasy at Kitty’s enthusiasm. “Yes, he has a lot of gray hairs,” Dave said with obvious satisfaction. “And half of his face was rebuilt on account of wounds he received from the enemy.”
“Oh, dear!” Mrs. Mallow cried. “I could not trust us all to a man in that condition, and one who is so ruthless and warlike!”
“Mother!” Marshmallow groaned. “You do think up the queerest things to be afraid of.”
“I don’t think that queer,” Mrs. Mallow replied firmly. “But perhaps it is not kind to judge another’s misfortune.”
“Then you really will let us go in the airplane?” Marshmallow shouted.
“No-o, I’m not sure,” Mrs. Mallow said. “Please, please say yes,” the others begged. “Let Marsh drive you to the airport to look at the ship, Mrs. Mallow,” suggested Dave.
“I know nothing about them,” Mrs. Mallow replied. “That would not help me to decide. However, I will talk it over with Mr. Rorce. If he can see no objections, I will try to overcome my timidity.”
“Whoops!” yelled Marshmallow. “Hooray!”
“I can’t wait until Uncle Wardell comes home,” beamed Doris. “It’s only three o’clock—two hours to wait!”
“No, he will be early today,” Mrs. Mallow said. “In fact, he should have been here before now. He has been at Lawyer Higgins’s office since lunch time going over the details of our errand at Raven Rock, and to get the all-important deeds to the property out there.”
“Doesn’t that sound thrilling?” Kitty asked, giving a little shiver of delight. “Oh, what an adventure to be party to!”
Mrs. Mallow excused herself and returned to the kitchen to supervise preparations for the evening meal.
The four youthful companions searched the bookcases for atlases, and were absorbed in studying maps and computing distances when the telephone rang.
“I’ll answer it,” Marshmallow sighed. “Gosh, imagine flying over the Mississippi!”
He went into the hall where the telephone was insistently ringing, while the rest studied the charts as if the trip were to be a circumnavigation of the earth via the two Poles.
A sharp exclamation from Marshmallow made them sit bolt upright.
“Doris, it’s your uncle,” Marshmallow said, his eyes wide with concern. “Something’s happened!”
“Has he been hurt?” cried the girl, flying to the telephone and snatching the receiver. “Uncle Ward! Hello? Hello?”
“Doris?”
The familiar deep voice came reassuringly over the wire, but the message it conveyed was so startling that for a moment the girl had to lean against the wall for support.
“Doris, this is Uncle Wardell. I am at the Plainfield police station. In the hallway of the office building I was struck down from behind and the important papers were stolen from me. No, I am not badly hurt—a big bump and a small cut. But the deeds to the property at Raven Rock are gone! And so are the robbers!”
CHAPTER II
No Time to Lose
“Marshmallow! Get the car started!” shouted Doris as she hung up the receiver, but still grasped the instrument as if for support.
“He’s outside starting the car now,” Dave answered. “What’s the trouble?”
“Is your uncle hurt?” demanded Kitty.
“Yes—robbed!”
Doris dashed out of the door and ran to the curb, where Marshmallow’s car was throbbing and shaking as if only the strength of its driver could prevent it from rising straight into the air.
“He’s at Police Headquarters,” the girl gasped.
Marshmallow let in the clutch and the venerable car leaped forward six feet and came to a dead stop.
“Gee, the old bus always acts like this in an emergency,” muttered the stout youth as he ground his heel into the starter button. The car responded with an angry whine, but no motion.
The car’s balkiness, however, had given Dave and Kitty time in which to catch up with their friends.
“Here, put her in high gear and I’ll push,” Dave shouted to Marshmallow. “Keep your clutch out until I yell ready!”
Beneath the thrust of Dave’s strong shoulders the ancient