The Boy Aviators Treasure Quest | Page 4

in Germany, and gone home to spend his days in a cottage on the outskirts of Berlin.
"He has gone down to the village," replied Le Blanc, vigorously shaking the pan of sizzling potatoes.
"He seems to spend a lot of time down there lately," remarked Frank.
"I'd rather see him about the aerodome," put in Harry; "we don't want everybody to know all the details of our trials."
"That's so," assented his brother, "I'll speak to him about it when he comes in to-night."
The two lads fell to with keen appetites on their supper, which was served on tin plates and washed down with coffee out of tin mugs. Not a very aristocratic service, but the boys rather liked roughing it than otherwise, and you may be sure that the "dinner set" off which they ate did not engross a fraction of their attention. The meal disposed of, Le Blanc and the boys fixed up the folding camp cots and spread their blankets. There was still no sign of Sanborn. Frank was still struggling to keep awake in order to read the man a sharp lecture when he returned when drowsiness overcame him and he dropped off to sleep.
It was an hour later, and not far from midnight, when two dark figures crossed the deserted aviation field and threaded their way among the various aerodromes. They paused in front of the one in which the boys were asleep. Had the lads been onlookers they would have seen that one of the men was Sanborn, the new machinist, and the other was Malvoise, the driver of the sable Buzzard.
"You won't lose your nerve?" said the Frenchman.
"Not me. I'm sore at those kids, anyhow," was the reply. "The eldest one undertakes to call me down for going out at night all the time."
"Well, you have a good chance to get back at him and make some money at the same time," was the other's rejoinder.
"You are sure the money will be forthcoming?"
"Well, I should say! Old man Barr, who bought the patent of the Buzzard dirt cheap from her inventor, has a pile of it. He's going to manufacture the Buzzards to make money out of 'em and he'll stop at nothing to gain the prestige of winning this Hempstead Plains Cup."
"I've heard of old Barr before. He's a regular skinflint, but I suppose, if you say it will be all right about the money, I'll have to take your word for it. I need some coin too badly to stick at anything."
"That's the way to talk. By the way, talking of the inventor of the Buzzard, I saw a piece in the paper about him to-night."
"What was it?"
"Why it seems that the poor beggar applied for shelter at the Municipal lodging-house in New York and told them a long tale of Barr having robbed him of his invention. They sized him up as being just another of those inventor bugs and so sent him to the booby hatch in Bellevue."
"A good place for him," was the rejoinder, "these inventors are all crazy."
"Well, Luther Barr's found a way to make this particular crank pay," was the reply.
"That's so. Well, good-night. Oh, say what was the name of the man who planned the Buzzard?"
"Oh, Eben something--let's see--Eben--it began with a J. I've got it--Eben Joyce, that's it--Eben Joyce."
"Queer name that--Eben Joyce," was Sanborn's comment. "Well, good-night."
"Good-night. You won't fail us."
"Not I," responded the machinist, as he slipped into the aerodrome and was soon wrapped in slumber as profound as if the thought of committing a treacherous act had never entered his mind.
CHAPTER II.
BILLY'S STRANGE TALE.
The next morning, as soon as the alarm clock rang out its summons at four-thirty, the boys were up and stirring, dashing the sleep out of their eyes with plenty of cold water. Le Blanc and Sanborn soon joined them, the latter heavy-eyed and sleepy-looking from the late hours of the night before. He was smoking a cigarette.
"Look here, Sanborn, I don't want to be too strict, but you know there's too much gasolene around here for it to be safe to smoke in the shed," said Frank, with some irritation, as he spied him.
Sanborn threw the cigarette away with an ill-tempered exclamation.
"Gee! It's a wonder you don't start a Sunday-school in here," he said.
"Well, I don't think it would do you any harm to attend one for a while," answered Frank, "and by the way, can't you make it possible to come in a little earlier? You are a valuable man to us and you can't do your best work if you are sitting up till all hours at the village hotel."
"You ain't got no complaint about my work, have you?" was the surly rejoinder.
"No, I think that you are a very capable mechanic but I hate to see you wasting