“bellowing bulls,” bob yelled at the top of his lungs as he realized that something catastrophic was taking place in the air and that the good-natured young pilot was in danger of his life.

“blistering blazes,” jim exclaimed. neither boy could hear the other’s ejaculation, but they were tense and rigid as they sat for a paralyzed instant staring through the darkness toward that flaming plane which was beginning to drop like some kind of lost star out of the blackness of the sky.

mechanically young caldwell kicked the rudder, his fingers adjusted the controls, and her highness came around with a screech of the wind through the struts and a shrill whine of the wires. he opened her up wide, zoomed, then leveling off, raced toward that flaming, careening plane. with lightning rapidity the boy calculated to a nicety the speed of the doomed mail-plane, and into both their brains flashed the ghastly question as to the sort of spot on to which she was making her plunge. was it smooth open country, or was it thick forests where the fire would spread and become a violent furnace before it could be subdued, or was it into some little sleeping village, whose residents would be seriously jeopardized?

as she made her way downward the plane cast a bright glow about herself, like a funeral bier, but the light only accentuated the night beyond the rim. at racing speed her highness cut through the heavens like a thin streak of brightness, and in a minute she was above her falling fellow. the altimeter read three thousand feet, so bob climbed higher, circled when he was sure he would have the grade he wanted, then, tipping the nose almost vertical, he raced downward, the engine roaring. it was breath-taking, but both boys were keenly alert. in a moment they were beside the burning plane and following it, at a safe distance, toward the ground.

they could see the mail pilot struggling with the controls, then he noticed them, grinned, and with a wave of his hand, he stopped the battle, loosened his safety strap, and stepped over the rim of the cock-pit. he seemed as cool as if he were doing a stunt at a fair-ground. a moment later he waved again, then jumped into space, making as wide a leap as possible. the two machines plunged on and the man’s body seemed to roll, then drop swiftly, then the parachute blossomed out wide and white as it spread open to save him.

“whew,” bob whistled softly. he could not watch the escaping pilot a moment longer, but he switched on all the light he had in an effort to pick out a landing place. one thing they were positive of, they were not over a village, for there wasn’t even a fueling signal visible. on they went, and at last jim caught his step-brother’s shoulder.

“woods,” he said, making his lips form the word so the boy would get it, and bob nodded that he understood. by this time they were so close to the ground that the descending furnace cast a brighter glow, and they could see the tree tops standing out like sentinels. at five hundred feet bob pulled her highness out of the mad drop, leveled off and circled in swift short turns. he maintained the height, and the two looked over the side. presently they saw the pilot dropping toward them for his speed had been checked by the parachute. at the same instant there was a dull thud and the mail plane smashed into the ground. the flames leaped furiously, and while they ate hungrily at their prey, they lighted the vicinity brilliantly.

“over there,” jim pointed, and bob looked. he saw a clear place, and shutting off the motor, glided to a landing. before her highness came to a full stop, jim was out of the cock-pit. he glanced anxiously at the work of destruction, then looked up to and the pilot, but he gasped with dismay as he discovered that the fellow was over trees and seemed unable to spill enough air to guide himself out of their reach. in a second a huge branch caught the silk and held it firmly, while the man dangled like a pendulum thirty feet above the hard ground. a fall would mean broken bones.

as the step-brothers were texans first and foremost, ranchers’ sons, they never went anywhere without a rope. in fact they would have felt as if they were not fully dressed, so now long lariats were coiled under their seats. it took only a second to secure them, then the two raced toward the tree.

“hey you lads, get the mail out of the plane,” the pilot shouted when he saw them approaching.

“you go back and do that while i get him down,” jim said quickly to his brother. “the three of us can probably save it all.”

“take my rope.” bob handed it over, then started to save the mail or as much of it as he could, while austin ran on to the tree.

“be careful. i’m trying to figure out a way to get onto the branch, but if i swing. i’ll come down,” the pilot called.

“i’ll look out. hold yourself steady.” jim had the rope in his hands, but a flying suit is a cumbersome garment and hampering. he stood away on a slight knoll, gave the lariat a few expert turns, then sent it forth. it shot under the pilot’s feet, opened wide, rose quickly and was jerked securely.

“good work, buddy,” the pilot called.

“fix it so it won’t cut you and i’ll get in that nearest tree,” jim answered. he was already beside the tree, and looping the end of the rope about his wrist as he started to climb. it was no easy task to prevent the lariat from tangling with the branches, but luckily the tree was a yellow pine, and one side of its trunk had only a few short stubs. the boy went like a monkey and was soon a few feet higher than the pilot. he fastened the end of the rope to a stout branch, took an instant to decide what his next move would be, then he made up his mind, and began to crawl out closer to the man he was trying to save.

“careful that doesn’t smash,” the chap warned.

“all right. get loose from your parachute. i’ll make a hitch here, so you’ll come just under me—”

“sure that will hold us both?”

“it’s a good green branch.”

“you make your hitch, then get back to the trunk,” the pilot proposed. “it will be safer.” jim obeyed. hanging on with one hand, he leaned forward to watch. the pilot released himself from the straps, then eased himself by hanging on with one hand. finally he let go, and swung beneath by the lariat. vigorously he sent his body forward, grasped the branch, hauled himself upright, then made his way to his rescuer.

“all o. k.”

“i’ll tell the world. come along and we’ll help the kid.” scrambling to the ground was much simpler than making the ascent, and presently they joined young bob, who was courageously hauling out bags of mail.

“gosh,” he whistled.

“here, take hold.” the pilot directed the work and in a few minutes the mail bags were all out of the compartment, and none too soon, for the flames had gained great headway, and were swiftly devouring the plane. they dragged the bags to a safe distance.

“i say, we have some pyrene,” bob announced; “i was a boob not to think of it before.” he ran for the tank, they helped him with the tiny hose, and in a few minutes the blaze was extinguished. the darkness seemed to settle about them more thickly than ever, but the light from her highness showed clearly so they could see their way to the plane. quickly the mail pilot glanced over it and he smiled with admiration.

“some grand little bus,” he told them.

“you bet. where can we take you?”

“to albany. we got to get the mail there too,” the pilot informed them and the brothers glanced at each other. her highness would certainly carry the three of them and some freight, but whether she was capable of such a load was another matter. “the mail must get through,” the pilot repeated. “we’ll try it,” jim responded.

“one of you fellows might stay here,” the pilot suggested.

“that won’t be necessary,” jim said quickly. taking the mail to albany would be a task, but coming back to find the one left behind would be an all night’s job. anyway, her highness had never been pressed into service for such an emergency and he was determined to leave nothing behind if that could be avoided. the mail man was already dragging bags from the pile. luckily none of them were very bulky and the three set to work to fit them into the freight compartment. that full, what was left was stored in the extra passenger seat.

“i’ll sit back there,” bob offered. “i’m smallest.”

“all right,” jim agreed. he was rather glad the younger boy had made the suggestion. caldwell had piloted her highness through her latest hazard and must be fagged. “pile in.” he took a moment to inspect the strip he would follow in the take-off, then leaped to his own seat. the third air-man was beside him.

“i’m much obliged to you lads for what you did for me tonight,” he said. “you don’t know what a relief it was to see you tearing to help me. had an idea that your backs were turned in my direction and didn’t hope that you had seen me.”

“i was watching you as we went along. we were about a mile over, so of course we came back,” jim replied casually. “glad we were able to get to you in time.”

further conversation was impossible, for the boy opened the throttle and her highness roared. the engine ran smoothly, the machine started, but it seemed to jim as if she would never lift. he could see the pines leaping toward them, then up went her nose and she was off the ground, soared laboriously and dangerously close to the trees, then began to climb. that part accomplished, austin was relieved, and he concentrated on the long grill ahead of him. he wished that he had discussed the course with this man who must know every inch of air along his route, but the whole affair had taken but a short time. the excitement had driven a great many things from his mind, so now he began to calculate his course, tracing it on the map. in coming up from texas the boys had stopped off to see the capital city and its twin across the river. he could depend upon the pilot to direct him to the proper field, so coming down would be all right.

the unaccustomed load made her highness’ management quite different from ordinary occasions when she had carried only an extra passenger, but the mail had to go through, regardless of men and machines, and the youthful part-owner of the plane was proud of her performance now, but he hoped hard that they would meet nothing on the way which would add to their difficulties. he thought of the fentons. they were early birds and probably in bed long ago, but bob’s aunt was a nervous woman and she might not sleep soundly because of their absence. they could let her know from albany what was delaying them, but that might only add to her anxiety. well, they had to make the best of it and it was rather an honor to be entrusted with u. s. mail. he tried to imagine what the bags contained. probably a great many of the letters were highly important. people would not be sending their communications by the swiftest way if the matters were not urgent.

on, on, and on they soared through the night. the clock on the dial said twelve thirty. it seemed much longer than that since they had left their jolly hosts in canada. once the mail pilot touched his arm, then raising his hand as if he were an orchestra leader, he motioned to go higher, jim nodded that he understood, so began to climb. they were fifteen thousand feet when he got the signal to level off. then he pointed to the speaking tube, and the pilot nodded that he would use it if he had anything to say. one o’clock came, and one-thirty. they had been going over an hour. probably the mail was late, for jim was sure the regular plane was a fast bus. her highness could do high speed too, but not with such a load. it was nearly two o’clock when the pilot picked up the tube and gave directions. later he pointed.

“there’s the field.” it was brilliantly lighted and the boy could see figures moving about the drome. as he glided down he noticed men looking at him curiously. he decided that they expected the mail plane and were surprised at his arrival. when he came to a stop a chap ran to the fuselage.

“seen anything of mason—the—”

“right here, old timer,” mason said quickly.

“thank the lord. we got word that a blazing plane was sighted, and we’ve been on pins and needles ever since. a couple of canadians are out trying to locate you.”

“i’m o. k., and so is the mail, thanks to these youngsters.” mason prepared to hop out, and he turned to jim. “you didn’t tell me your name. i’m phil mason.”

“mine’s jim austin, and my step-brother is bob caldwell. we’ve been visiting relatives in vermont,” jim explained. by that time bob was out of his seat and a couple of men were removing the bags.

“glad to know you lads. you want to bunk here the rest of the night—”

“thanks, no, but i should appreciate a supply of gas. i’m not sure i have enough to make the trip back,” jim answered.

“gas, of course, you can have all you want. here you—” he shouted directions, and a mechanic came on the run. the task of re-fueling was accomplished with efficiency, but the boys had to shake hands with a lot of relieved pilots who were grateful that one of their number was not lying wrecked and helpless miles away. finally they permitted the buddies to go, and this time bob was beside his brother.

“want me to pilot, old man?” he offered.

“did you get any sleep back there?” jim demanded.

“no, i watched the duplicate controls. thought you might need help.”

“then you sit beside me and take a nap now. if i get so my eyes won’t stay open. i’ll wake you up and let you do the work,” jim promised.

“so long, buddies,” mason shouted, just as the throttle was opened. bob waved his hand, and jim nodded. taking off on the drome was simple, and in a moment her highness, no longer loaded to the hilt, leaped into the air.

“great old girl,” jim exclaimed proudly, and the plane responded eagerly. the course was set, and while they went, roaring back toward the northern part of vermont, bob’s head nodded and finally dropped forward as sleep overtook him. jim grinned affectionately at the young fellow and made up his mind that he wouldn’t disturb that rest if he could possibly help it.

the trip home was uneventful but jim did have to blink hard several times to keep his eyes open. however, he managed it, but the first streaks of dawn were softening the sky before the fenton cove met his tired vision. with a whistle of relief that at last it was over, he glided down toward the carriage house, and as the plane shot forward, he heard the house door open quickly.

“is that you, boys?” mrs. fenton’s tone was distressed. then bob woke up, blinked, and stared.

“thunder and mars, why didn’t you let me do part of it?” he demanded.

“we’re all right,” jim shouted to aunt belle, and added to his step-brother, “i’ll let you have the honor of putting her ladyship up if you like.”

“you’d better,” bob growled. “next time i won’t go to sleep. you go in and hop to bed. i’ll explain to aunt belle.” that arrangement was entirely satisfactory to jim, and in five minutes he was in their room, in ten minutes he was stretched out in his pajamas and sound asleep. it was noon when he opened his eyes. bob was on the second cot and was just turning over.

“hello, old timer.”

“hello yourself. what day is it?”

“same one. say, jim did you notice the lake when we got home?”

“didn’t notice a blooming thing. is the house afloat?”

“not yet. it rained some more. woke me up about nine o’clock. i’d thought of going over today and have a talk with hezzy, but i changed my mind,” bob announced.

“wise lad.”

“you never did cotton up to hezzy did you?”

“not so you could notice it.”

“well, i’ve been doing some thinking. seems kind of queer to me that he should have sneaked under those trees yesterday when we were going over. i’ve been wondering what he was doing on that side of the property. if it was all right, what the heck did he dodge us for?”

“ask me another,” jim yawned. “did your aunt think we had flown to the bottom of the lake?”

“she sure did, but luckily she didn’t miss us until she got up. our door was open and she saw the beds—then she got scared for fair and came flying down stairs. about that time we came rolling in. i am glad she didn’t have any more time to fret.”

“same here.” just then they heard mrs. fenton come tip-toeing up the stairs and they both closed their eyes tight, then began to snore melodiously. anyone could tell that it was a pretense.

“i was just coming to see if you boys aren’t ready to have something to eat. you must be starved,” she exclaimed.

“we are,” they wailed.

“well, dinner’s all ready. you get into your bath-robes and come right down. no one will mind and i guess you deserve some privileges. someone called up this morning to know if you got home all right, and i guess you did more than bob told me.” she looked reproachfully at her nephew and shook her finger. “now, hustle up—i’ve got huckleberry pie—” they were out of bed before the words were fairly uttered, so she hurried back to her duties and the two boys were close at her heels, donning bath robes as they came. they did take time to have a good cold splash, and glance at the lake, which had risen two feet higher.

mr. and mrs. fenton tried to look cheerful and to joke during the meal, but it was not a success, for the menacing water creeping steadily toward them had already seeped into the cellar, and on the road in front of the house the boys could see automobiles, trucks, hay wagons, and even a team of oxen hitched to a great cart, plugging slowly forward. the vehicles were every one of them piled high with household effects and the people of the island whose homes were already below the danger line, were looking for a safe place to settle until champlain should recede within bounds. the meal over, the two boys went to the veranda at the back. there was something terrible about the whole situation, and they wondered dully what could be done about it. just waiting was nerve racking. for a minute they watched the water, which was muddy as it thrashed in the rising wind, and beyond the cove they could see branches, whole trees, rails of fences, boxes, and all sorts of wreckage tossed on the waves.

“let’s get out of sight of it,” bob proposed, so they went to the front of the house, but the view there was no less depressing. an old man trudged through the water driving his cow, and right behind him, seated on a queer old carriage was his wife driving a horse that lifted his hoofs wearily and wheezed with every step. at that moment an automobile drove to the door, and a huge man, with a booming voice, stuck his head out of the window.

“can i get something to eat here?”

“come right in,” mrs. fenton answered. the man climbed out clumsily, and right behind him came a smaller man who had been completely concealed by his companion.

“this is a blasted neck of the woods,” the big fellow bellowed.

“let’s sit over here,” bob suggested. he didn’t think the newcomer added anything attractive to the prevailing discomfort. the fellow talked and cussed the weather, but the small man didn’t utter a word. it wasn’t until they were eating that he ventured to speak.

“i told you, burnam, this was a fool’s errand,” he declared. the big man brought his fist down on the table so hard that the china jumped.

“don’t i know you did. well, i’m telling you that they are hiding somewhere around here, understand, and i’m going to find them. you can get on the train and go to blazes if you like, see!” the words and the tone made the boys jump, then jim gripped bob’s arm.

“shhhhsss.” he pointed to the end of the veranda. bob looked and was surprised to see corso standing like a statue close to the step. he looked as if something had struck him paralyzed, but he recovered himself in a second, leaped nimbly to the veranda, stepped with amazing swiftness to the window and cautiously peeped in. it was just one brief glance he got of the room and the tourists, but it seemed to be enough. he jumped lightly as a cat to the ground, crouched, then disappeared around the corner of the house.

“what do you know about that,” bob exclaimed, then added quickly, “don’t tell me to ask you another. let’s go up and get our clothes on.”