Lost In The Air | Page 5

came down men, Major. Don't forget that."
"You're right--and I beg your pardon," said the Major, bowing to them.
"I spoke thoughtlessly. So then I have the good fortune to be speaking
to the very man I seek?" he went on, turning to Bruce. "Now I suppose
the remaining questions are: Will you be at liberty to take up aviation
again and--do you want to?"
"That," said Bruce, struggling to keep his voice steady, "will depend
upon at least one thing: If you will answer one question now, we will
promise you a definite answer to-morrow morning at seven o'clock."
"The question?"
"My friend here, Barney Menter, is quite as skilled an aviator as I am.
If I go, he goes. What there is in it in pay or peril we will share
equally."
Barney stepped forward to protest, but Bruce held him back and
continued: "Your machine is equipped for two men besides yourself.

Will you take us both?"
"Most certainly," said the Major heartily. "In case you decide to
accompany me, I shall wire the mechanic not to come and you two may
divide the work between you as you may see fit.
"I might say," he added, "that the pay will be double that which you are
now receiving, and the journey will consume the remainder of the
season. Should we decide on something more hazardous, the pay will
be in proportion, and there is, besides, a substantial, I might even say a
rich reward offered, for the successful completion of this latter task.
However, enough of that for the present. You can give me your
decision in the morning, and I hope you accept." He bowed and strode
away.
"Now, why didn't you say 'Yes' on the spot?" demanded Barney,
impatiently. "We are required to give only a week's notice to the
company and the nights and mornings of that week we can use getting
the machine together and taking a trial flight."
"I always sleep over a thing," answered Bruce. "It's a habit I inherited
from my father." Long after, in quite different circumstances, Barney
was to remember this remark, and bless Bruce's inheritance.
Mail had been delivered during their absence. Barney found a letter on
his desk. He puzzled over the postmark, which was from some Pacific
port. He tore the envelope open, glanced at the letter, then read it with
sudden eagerness.
"Bruce," he exclaimed, "listen to this. It's from an old pal of mine,
David Tower; entered the navy same time I did the army." And he read
aloud:
"Dear Barney:
"I'm off for somewhere far North; guess not the Pole, but pretty well up
that way. Second officer on a U. S. Sub. She's loaned to a queer old
chap they call Doctor. No particulars yet. Hope this finds you 'up in the

air,' as per usual.
"DAVE." "That is a coincidence," said Bruce. "Perhaps we'll meet him
up there somewhere among the icebergs."
"I'll suggest it!" exclaimed Barney, reaching for his pen.
"Dear Dave," he wrote. "Am thinking of a little trip North myself. Our
ship's a 500 HP Handley-Page. Bring your guitar and oboe along. My
partner and I are bringing saxophone and mandolin. We'll have a little
jazz. Till we meet, as ever,
"BARNEY."
If the boy had known under what strange conditions this particular jazz
performance would be given, he might have felt queer sensations
creeping up his spinal column.
"I say!" exclaimed Bruce suddenly, "who's this Major chap, anyway?
I've a notion he's something rather big, maybe the biggest--"
"You don't mean?--"
"I'm not saying anything," protested Bruce, "but this other man I'm
thinking of left a toe or two in the Arctic, and his face has freeze scars
on it. His name's--well, you know it as well as I do."
"Shucks! It couldn't be," exclaimed Barney. "He wouldn't be up here
alone this way."
"No, I guess not," sighed Bruce. "But it would be great sport if it were
he, after all."
Ten days later, a girl in her late teens stood shading her eyes watching a
tiny object against the sky. It might have been a hawk, but it was not; it
was an airplane--the Handley-Page, with the two young pilots and the
Major on board. The girl was La Vaune. She stood there watching till
the plane had dwindled to a dot, and the dot had disappeared. Holding
her apron to her eyes to hide her tears, she walked blindly into the

house.
The adventurers were well on their way.
CHAPTER II
THE STRANGE LANDING
"I don't like the way the Rolls-Royce is acting," Bruce grumbled
through his telephone to Barney, for, though they were not four feet
apart, not a word could they hear, so great was the din of their two
powerful engines.
"Same