II
THE THREE MYSTERIES
"I say, Uncle Norman, you surely have a crab of a man to look after yourturkeys," Bob remarked when the noonday meal was nearly finished, andthe boy suddenly recalled their very unwelcome reception on Isle LaMotte.
"A crab?"
"I'll tell the herd he is the prize long horn for meanness," Jim addedemphatically.
"My goodness, boys, what on earth did he do?" Mrs. Fenton asked soberly,as if she could hardly believe her ears.
"He wouldn't let us near the place," Bob explained, then went on with anaccount of their effort to see the turkey farm.
"Hezzy's all right, boys. You didn't tell him who you were."
"No, we didn't, but great snakes, about everybody on the three islandsseemed to know we were coming. Didn't seem reasonable that this fellowdid not have an idea who we were," Jim declared.
"Of course, airplane visitors are not common and the news of yourarriving from Texas did spread, but it's possible Hezzy didn't hear ofit," Mrs. Fenton told them.
"You see, boys, he's been having quite a peck of trouble. Last year theyhatched a big flock of birds, but before they were half grown, a lot ofthem were stolen. We know they didn't die--only a few of them--and thereis no way for them to have wandered off. Their wings are clipped as soonas they are big enough to get any height, and turkeys do not fly veryhigh or far, anyway. Some one, or some band of thieves must have madeaway with them. Hezzy is hired to raise them, I haven't time to and lookafter the farm, and he takes real pride in having a big flock. Some ofthe young ones have disappeared already and I expect he's keeping amighty close watch to save as many as he can. They bring a good priceand last year was the first season we didn't realize a profit on them."
"Any idea where they go?"
"No, we haven't, but it must be outsiders. Probably some touristsdiscovered the old farm tucked away there in the woods, and let it beknown, or came back themselves. We have three watchmen, and now one ofthem sits up all night, but it hasn't done much good," Mr. Fentonanswered.
"Sure Hezzy isn't putting his own brand on them?" Jim suggested.
"My goodness sakes alive, child, don't say anything like that. Iwouldn't have anyone hear you for the world," Aunt Belle said anxiously.
"Hezzy is too honest for his own good, really. He wouldn't take a bentpin that didn't belong to him. I've known him since I was a boy. He's afine poultry man and absolutely reliable. Keeps his records as accurateas can be. There isn't a cent's worth he doesn't give a detailed accountof every week," Mr. Fenton supplemented.
"I didn't mean to cast reflections on his honesty, but he was such abear, it just occurred to me he might be feathering his own nest withyour turkeys," Jim said.
"Oh, dear me, don't say it again. Why, I should be so distressed to haveit get out--"
"We won't breath it, Aunt Belle," Bob promised.
"I'll take you over sometime and you can see the place. I ordered a pairof good watchdogs to help guard it. They should be here in a day or so,"Mr. Fenton said, then added. "Well, if you want to go out and inspectwhat's being done on the mud hole, come along."
"Perhaps they could eat another piece of pie, Norman."
"No, we couldn't, not a sliver," Bob insisted.
"Much to our regret," Jim grinned.
"Very well," Aunt Belle agreed.
The two boys followed Mr. Fenton out of the front door, down the flowerlined path under a grove of huge maples, across the road onto the farmproper, past the barns, around the vegetable garden and then he stoppedand made a gesture.
"Here it is." They saw the land, much as he had described it, thealfalfa meadow rising gently on the further side, and between them was along pond of still water which was very dirty.
"Some hole," Jim nodded. They walked on, picking their way until theysaw a boy at work, and they stood quietly watching him. He did notrealize they were there and went on with his task quite as if he wasalone on the island.
"What the heck is he doing?" Bob whispered. The boy had some odd sort ofimplement, the handles of which he grasped in both hands, stood itupright, then jumped, his feet landing in the middle; driving the queertool deep into the ground. Then he stepped off, bent the handles as faras they would go, and raised the earth.
"I think it is some sort of shovel, or plow," Mr. Fenton told them, "butI never saw anything like it. Listen and you'll hear him sing, it's akind of a chant." The step-brothers listened and in a moment they couldhear, but the words and melody were unfamiliar. As the youngsterstraightened up, they could see that he was lithe, his skin was darklike his uncle's, and his heavy hair, which was quite long for a boy's,waved in the breeze.
"Gosh, he looks a little like an Indian, a good one," Jim remarked.
"Will he mind if we go closer?"
"No, but I wouldn't pay too much attention to him," Mr. Fenton advised."I'll go about my job and you amuse yourselves." He left them, and theboys proceeded to where the young farmer, or whatever he was, wasengaged. They marveled at the speed with which he turned over the earthand before they were very close they saw that he was making some kind oftrench. At the nearest end the work seemed to be finished, and then theycould tell that he was making a terrace along the edge of the alfalfaplot. About half way down he had taken some very large rocks, fittedthem with great nicety, filled in the crevices with smaller stones,filled in the space toward the hill with earth, and above the dark soilpoked two rows of tiny green shoots of young corn.
"Gosh, he's planting as he gets the land ready. Great job, isn't it?"Bob whispered and his step-brother nodded. Presently they came up to theboy. When their shadows fell across his plow, he glanced up quickly andsprang back. They grinned cheerfully to let him know they were friendly,and Jim pointed to the new terrace.
"Fine," he declared.
The boy smiled, his eyes lost some of the terror which had leaped intothem, and his body relaxed. He eyed them for a moment, then motioningwith one hand, he led them back to the other side where he showed them anarrow trench. With one scoop of his shovel he removed the earth thatstill held the water as a dam, and it started to tumble through and raceoff toward the road, where it would be carried away into the lake. Forseveral minutes they watched, and then they glanced at the useless bog.
"Cracky," Bob shouted with admiration. "Some irrigator. Look, it'sdraining off."
Sure enough, the long strip was getting dry around the edges, andpromised to be emptied inside of an hour.
"If it stays dry, Uncle Norman will be tickled pink. Say, Jim, what doyou suppose he is?"
"Search me," Jim responded.
"Seems as if I've got a kind of hazy idea of reading something aboutsome old race or other using plows like that," Bob remarked.
"Me too. Maybe it was the Egyptians."
"Maybe, but holy hoofs, what's this kid doing it for?"
"As I said before, my esteemed step-brother, you are at liberty tosearch me thoroughly, but if you find anything, you have to let me in onit," Jim laughed. The boy watched them a few minutes longer, thenpicking up his tool, he hurried back to his work.
"You know, Jim, we thought this neck of the woods was going to be dullas ditch-water, but I've got a hunch that if we stick around we may beable to crowd some real excitement into our visit. I'm dying to know whothis kid is and where he came from, mystery number one; I'd like to dosome flying about Isle La Motte and perhaps we can see something thatwill solve mystery number two--what's happening to Uncle Norman'sturkeys--"
"I'd like to do some observing and see if we can't get a line on thatgang that is giving friend Bradshaw such deep furrows between hishandsome eyes," Jim laughed.
"Me too, but gosh all hemlock, wouldn't Dad kid the life out of us if heknew we are out to help the little old world!"
"Not only Dad, but the whole shooting match on the ranch. Tell youwhat, Aunt Belle and Uncle Fent said we could stay as long as welike, and they meant it, even if we
are boys. Let's organize asecret--s-e-c-r-e-t--mind you, detecting bureau, or what ever it is,and stay until we solve the three mysteries!" Bob proposed.
"I'm on. This end of the world doesn't look so bad to me. We'll let thefolks know we're taking root for a while, the three of us, that includesHer Highness. We'll keep on the job until we win, or we have to admitwe're licked." Bob held out his hand and the agreement was made, withoutfurther discussion.
"We'll have to explain to Her Highness," the younger boy declared.
"Sure thing. She'll be disappointed unless there's a lot of air work toit, and I have a hunch there will be."
"Oh, boys--"
"Yes Aunt Belle," Bob shouted.
"Do you know where your uncle is working?" Mrs. Fenton called from theroadway. "There's a telephone message for him."
"We'll find him for you," Jim promised. They hurried off in thedirection Mr. Fenton had taken when he left them and soon the sound of ahammer ringing in the distance informed them they were on the righttrail. A moment later they could see the man repairing a place in therail fence that bounded the pasture.
"Uncle Norman, you're wanted on the telephone," Bob roared.
"All right, coming," the man waved, and dropping his work, came as fastas his long legs could carry him.
"Guess you're party's holding the line," Jim volunteered.
"They don't mind that around here," Mr. Fenton replied. He went aheadand the boys followed more leisurely.
"This certainly is a good looking spot. No wonder the early pioneerssettled in rock-bound Vermont, but, gosh, what a fight they had to putup to get a living out of those rocks," Bob remarked as his eyes roamedadmiringly over the green hills, across the blue water, on to thedistant mountains.
"It isn't a rich state yet, but it has produced some fine men. Realrip-snorters, rearin' to go," Jim added. By that time they had reachedthe "hole" and could see the strange boy working industriously at histerrace.
"You know, Bob, we want to be kind of careful because we don't want todo any butting-in on that kid. Maybe, far as he's concerned, we hadbetter mind our own business."
"Reckon you're right, but let's try to make friends with him," Bobsuggested, and that was passed without a dissenting vote.
"Oh boys."
"Here," Bob shouted to his uncle.
"How long would it take you to get me to Burlington?" the man asked ashe came up to them.
"Less than an hour," Bob answered.
"Would it be too much trouble for you to take me?"
"Not one bit," Jim assured him. "Ever been up in a plane, sir?"
"No, I haven't," the man admitted.
"Do you get dizzy easily, that is, does it make you sick to your stomachwhen you get on a high place and look over?"
"Oh no. I never get dizzy."
"That's all right then."
"We can strap you in," Bob offered.
"Will the plane carry three of us?" the man asked.
"Sure. There's an emergency seat in the back, and she'll carry somefreight besides," Jim explained.
"Our dad didn't leave anything undone when he bought that plane, andbesides, we helped in the selection. She'll do anything except herdsheep," Bob said proudly.
"We have parachutes and everything. Maybe you'd like to try one of themout," Jim offered.
"Not this time unless I have to," Mr. Fenton laughed. "A chap called meup on important business, and if I can get it attended to today, it willbe a big help."
"Well then, get a heavy coat on. We have an extra helmet--"
"Shall I need rubbers?"
"If you intend to come down with the parachute over the lake," Bobanswered.
"It's mighty nice of you--"
"We'll get Her Highness in ship shape."
"I'll be with you in five minutes," Mr. Fenton promised, and he was. Hejoined his young guests at the pier, Bob was already in the back, whileJim was fussing about the pilot's seat. Mr. Fenton was given the extrahelmet and a pair of goggles, both of which he adjusted when he took hisplace after he had submitted to having the parachute and safety strapbuckled properly.
"All O.K.?" Jim shouted finally. Mrs. Fenton had come down to see herhusband start on his first flight, and she watched a bit nervously.
"I don't know about those contraptions, Norman," she said anxiously.
"They're great inventions, Belle. When we get rich, we'll have one," hepromised her.
"I'd rather have a good horse and buggy," she retorted.
"A horse is all right, Aunt Belle. He never loses an engine or gets hiswings ripped off," Bob shouted, then added. "All set in the rumble seat,Jim!"
"Right-you-are." Jim glanced at their passenger, assured himself that hewas secure, then, opened her up, and they sped forward over the water,which was smooth as a sheet of glass. Mr. Fenton's lips moved, butwhatever he said was lost in the roar of the motor. He grabbed the edgeof the seat as Her Highness lifted her nose eagerly, and he hung ongrimly as she spiraled in wide curves over the lake. At a thousand feetthe young pilot leveled her off and they roared swiftly south toward theState's largest city. After about ten minutes, Mr. Fenton sat lessrigidly. Jim picked up the speaking tube and handed the end to him,making motions how to use it.
"How do you like flying, Uncle Norman?" Mr. Fenton nodded and smiled. Hedidn't feel quite equal to carrying on a conversation yet. Jim followedthe lake, and as they were approaching their destination, he spoke againto his passenger. "If we land on the water will that be all right foryou, can you get to your place easily?"
"Yes, the office isn't far from the east shore." Mr. Fenton felt like anold timer now. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.
"Ten minutes more," Jim told him, and he nodded. Presently the pilotshut off the engine, and the man looked startled at the sudden silence.He glanced at Jim, who grinned reassuringly as he kicked the rudderabout and brought Her Highness into a long glide toward the spot he hadselected for the landing. The plane touched the water lightly, spedalong a few yards and stopped beside a long pier.
"Are we here?" Mr. Fenton asked.
"Yes sir. How do you like air traveling?"
"It's wonderful, but I did almost get heart failure when the motorstopped," he admitted.
"Begun to wish you had brought your rubbers?"
"My rubbers and a boat."
"Is this place near enough?"
"Plenty." Jim helped him out of the straps, and by that time Bob steppedover the fuselage to give a hand.
"Glad you didn't try to jump over, Uncle Norman. How are your air-legs,wobbly?"
"A bit cramped." He stretched them both, found they would work, and in amoment he mounted the boat pier. "I don't expect to be more than half anhour."
"We'll wait here," Jim promised.
"Oh, look at the hydroplane," shouted a small boy on the shore.
"They are calling Her Highness names," Bob scowled.
"She's a hydroplane for the minute," Jim replied. "Let's taxi around thewater."
"It's getting kind of rough. Up at North Hero it was as smooth as asheet," Bob answered. "Wish I knew more about water and its tricks."
"I think we're going to have a blow," Jim speculated as Her Highnesswent rocking over the waves.
"There are some black clouds over south and west and they sure do lookas if they are in a hurry. We'll have them on our tail as we go back.Got plenty of gas? I read that in some places Lake Champlain is threehundred feet deep, and it's wet clear to the bottom," said Bob.
"There's an extra tank besides what is in the bus. Guess I'll feed herup. Somehow, I think a nice Texas desert is pleasanter to land on thanwater." Jim busied himself with the task and Bob helped look thingsover.
"Why don't you go back above the shore?" he suggested.
"We have to land on the cove when we get home, so why switch gears. Ifthere's time this evening, we might locate a place to land on the farm,but we'll have to ask your uncle about that or we'll be coming down onsome field he's planted."
&nb
sp; "O.K. with me."
"Whoooo boys," Mr. Fenton shouted from the pier where he was standingwith a group of men and an army of small boys who had come to see thetake off.
"An audience. Do your prettiest, Your Highness," Bob urged the plane ashis step-brother brought it around in fancy style.
"It isn't every farmer who has a couple of pilots to bring him to townin a private plane, free of charge," one of the men joked.
"Certainly looks like the farmers are getting some relief," anotheradded. "They are going up in the air about it."
"It's time we did something," Mr. Fenton responded. "Shall I get in now,Jim?"
"Sure." Bob gave him a hand, the straps were re-adjusted, and theyounger boy crawled back to his seat, attached his own parachute, andwas finally ready. By that time the shore was lined with spectators.
"All ready. Contact," Caldwell shouted. Jim opened the throttle, andthey were off in a jiffy. They could see the people waving and cheeringas they came about a few feet above the lake. Then Her Highness zoomed,high and handsome and the town was left behind.
Because of the rising wind the return trip was not so smooth. They raninto bumps and pockets, and the force of the approaching storm drovehard behind them, pushing them forward swiftly. Jim zoomed to tenthousand feet in an effort to get above the troubled air, but even atthat altitude there was no improvement. Occasionally he took a second toglance at his passenger, but Mr. Fenton was facing it bravely, althoughhis eyes showed that he was a bit anxious. The young pilot took thespeaking tube, signaled to the boy in the back, and almost instantlythere was a red flash on the dial board, which meant Bob was payingattention.
"Better put your cover over, old man."
"Got her up," came the answer. "I'm snug as a bug in a rug. Want to knowthe readings back here?"
"Yes." Bob read them off while Jim compared them with the records on hisown control board, and when it was finished, he called.
"All correct."
"You covered up?" Bob demanded.
"Going to fix it now. So long. Meet you on the ice."
"You needn't. I'm not a skate," came the chuckling response. Then Jimdrew the storm cover over the cock-pit, switched on extra lights, andthe plane raced forward, guided entirely by compass, and the sensitiveinstruments which kept him fully informed as to how high they were andhow fast they were going.
The coming of the storm suddenly hit them with a bang and the youngfellow fought with the controls to keep Her Highness balanced.
Glancing through the tiny window he was startled to see that it waspitch dark, and he had to look at his watch to be sure that night wasstill several hours away.
"Some storm," he remarked to Mr. Fenton, who answered courageously.
"Lake Champlain is noted for them. They are pretty tempestuous at timesand this looks like a rip-snorter."