At the corner bus-stop the yellow and green vehicle emitted eight young people who immediately scattered in different directions to their homes. Phyllis went off with David and Janet, while Carol went in the opposite direction with Madge and Peter Arnold. Valerie and Bruce walked slowly toward Gale’s house. It was their intention to see why she had not appeared at the airport and also to discover if she knew where Brent Stockton was.

As they stopped at the Howard gate they met Mr. Howard just arriving from the opposite direction.

“How was the air-meet?” were his first words.

“Marvelous!” Valerie declared.

“Did Mr. Stockton’s plane win the race?” he asked next as he latched the gate after the three of them.

“Yes,” Bruce said, “his plane won, but if Stubby hadn’t flown it, it wouldn’t have.”

“What was the matter with Brent?” Mr. Howard asked in surprise. “I thought he was to fly it himself?”

“He hasn’t been at the airport all day,” Bruce explained.

“But why not?” Mr. Howard wanted to know.

“That is what we want to find out,” Valerie put in. “He brought you back from Quebec last night, didn’t he?”

Mr. Howard frowned thoughtfully. “No, he didn’t. I came back today on the train. I’m just coming from the station now.”

“Then Gale is with you?” Bruce asked.

“No. She started back last night with Brent in his plane.”

“But where is she?” Valerie demanded. “I certainly thought she would be at the races today.”

“Haven’t you seen either her or Brent since the take-off yesterday?” Mr. Howard wanted to know in a worried voice.

The young people had to admit that they hadn’t.

“Gale is probably in the house somewhere,” Valerie said after a moment. “Something might have kept her home.”

“But Brent——” Bruce said uneasily.

The three of them went toward the house. The honeysuckle vine gave off a sweet, heavy scent in the late afternoon air. Bruce seated himself on the banister while Valerie sank down on the swing and idly rocked back and forth. Mr. Howard went immediately into the house. Valerie picked up a magazine and turned the pages while they waited. Bruce whistled in a low tone under his breath. It was quite a while before Mr. Howard reappeared. When he did his face wore an unusually grave expression.

“Where’s Gale?” Valerie asked immediately, sensing that something was wrong.

“I wish I knew,” Gale’s father replied heavily. “We’ll have to notify the authorities immediately.”

“What for?” Bruce interposed.

“To find them. Gale and Brent took off last night. They haven’t arrived back here. Something must have happened—a crash.”

“How terrible!” Valerie whispered in awe.

There was a short, charged silence. They could not readily grasp the fact of a crash—yet that must have been what happened. The races had meant so much to Brent and also to Gale that it must have been an accident that delayed them. There could be no other reason.

That day was but the first in the long days of anxiety and mystery. The rest of the afternoon was spent in setting in motion the wheels that would find the two who had vanished into the sky. Bruce stayed with Mr. Howard while Valerie went off to notify the other Adventure Girls of what they were afraid had happened.

It was at the Kopper Kettle, gathered as usual to spend an hour or so before dinner in talking, that Bruce found them with the news. The Adventure Girls with David and Peter were discussing Marchton’s chances in the next football game when Bruce appeared. Immediately all thought of sport was dispensed.

“Have you learned anything?” Valerie asked before Bruce had even time to seat himself among them.

“Yes,” he said slowly.

“What?” Phyllis asked anxiously.

“The plane is smashed—a complete wreck.”

“And Gale and Brent?” Carol put in.

“Brent is in a hospital nursing a fractured shoulder and a couple broken ribs,” Bruce replied.

“And Gale—what about her?” Janet insisted.

“That is what is so strange,” Bruce said slowly, reluctantly. “Gale has disappeared.”

“Disappeared!” the others echoed. “But how—where——”

“Mr. Howard talked to Brent on the telephone,” Bruce continued with his tale. “After the crash last night, when Brent could drag himself free of the wreckage, he started out to find help. He thought he saw a light in the distance and made for that. The sleet and snow was thick and fast. He couldn’t go very swiftly, the ground was uneven and it was pitch dark but he kept on going as best he could. He knew he must come to something eventually. He had left Gale pinned in her seat by the branch of a tree which was too heavy for him, hurt as he was, to move.”

Bruce paused and not a sound came from the others. They were hanging breathlessly onto his every word.

“At last he saw a house ahead of him. He hurried forward but all his knocking on the door brought no one. He turned away and went on. Later he came to another place. By now he was worn out completely. He could hardly stand. He could do no more than stumble up to the door. The last he recalls was leaning against the door and as it gave way, of falling into the dark room beyond.”

“Go on,” in a faint whisper Janet voiced the feelings of all of them.

“Well, the next thing he knew he was in the hospital. The people who lived in the house he had come to had taken him there. At once he sent out a party to the plane, but when they got there Gale was gone.”

“No wonder,” Carol said. “It must have been hours after he left that the rescue party arrived.”

Bruce nodded and was silent.

“And they don’t know where Gale is?” Phyllis declared, rather than asked.

“No,” Bruce continued. “It had snowed a lot after the wreck and all around the plane the snow was unbroken. No footsteps to show how she had gotten out or in what direction she had gone.”

“What are they going to do?” David wanted to know.

“Keep on looking for her I suppose,” Bruce sighed. “As soon as Brent can leave the hospital he says he is going to join the hunt.”

“He should,” Janet declared. “I wish I could. How long will it be before he gets out?”

“He says he is going to leave tomorrow. He insists the doctors can strap his ribs so he won’t hurt himself by walking around. Of course he won’t be able to fly because of his shoulder and all—but at least he will be up there at the scene of the crash.” Bruce’s voice told them there was nothing he would like better than to be there also.

When the young people broke up their gathering it was to go home subdued and quietly thoughtful, hoping every minute for some word of Gale’s safety. It had been arranged that the minute Bruce heard anything he was to telephone Valerie. Valerie would in turn phone Janet and so on. The word would be relayed from one to the other. But the telephones remained silent—all that night, the next day and many days after.

School went on as usual, and after school were the football games, basketball, or their meetings at the Kopper Kettle. But in all there was something missing and they knew it was the sunny presence of Gale. Gale had been one of the most popular girls in the school and expressions of sympathy came not only from the students but from the faculty as well.

On the third day of the unsuccessful search a plane with two passengers landed at the Marchton airport. Brent had had to secure another to pilot him and while Stubby made friends with the new pilot Brent went in to Marchton to Gale’s home. After a long talk with the girl’s parents he went to the Kopper Kettle to meet the other young people. They welcomed him eagerly, hopefully, but he could tell them nothing new.

Phyllis regarded the young aviator with thoughtful eyes. Brent was paler, he seemed taller too, now, with his right arm in a sling, his shoulder thick under bandages and his tweed coat, his eyes darkened with worry.

“You can find nothing,” she said again.

“Nothing,” he replied hopelessly. “The snow is so deep up there in some parts that we can’t get about very easily. There are lots of out of the way farms to which she might have wandered.”

“But surely the people would have notified the authorities,” Bruce put in.

“I suppose so,” Brent admitted.

“Besides,” added Janet, “how did she get out of the plane? If the branch that pinned her into the seat was too heavy for you to lift, certainly she couldn’t have.”

Brent shook his head. “I don’t know where she is, but I’ve got to find her. I blame myself for the whole mess.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Valerie said quickly and the others agreed with her. “You couldn’t tell the storm would come up or that you would run out of gasoline.”

“But I should never have left her in the plane!” Brent said restlessly.

“You had to get help,” Bruce said. “You thought you were doing the best thing. It was the only thing——”

“I know,” Brent said hastily, “but just the same——” he stood up. “I’ve got to get back to the airport. We are flying up again tonight, but I’ll be back in a day or two—to let you know how things are going.”

“Do you think I might be able to help up there?” Bruce asked eagerly.

Brent looked at him. “Honestly I don’t. There are hundreds of people looking for her—police, newspaper men and all. Everyone knows about Gale—it was in all the papers and broadcast on the radio. I don’t believe there are three people within a radius of hundreds of miles that haven’t seen her picture in the newspapers or heard about her. Sooner or later something will come to light.”

“Sooner or later,” Phyllis echoed drearily.

“You will tell us the minute you learn anything,” Valerie pleaded.

“Of course,” Brent said with an attempt to be cheerful. “And I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. I’m positive Gale will turn up all right. Anyway, I’ll be down again in a few days. Meanwhile, perhaps you can think of something that might help in the search.”

Brent went off to the airport, with an attempt to leave a brightened atmosphere behind him, but his attempt had failed. The others were more mystified than ever about what had happened to their missing member.

“I’ve always liked to solve puzzles,” Carol declared, “but this has me stumped! What on earth could have become of her? If everyone has seen her picture in the papers as he says, why haven’t we heard something?”

“You know the old saying ‘No news is good news’ so maybe we should be glad we haven’t heard anything,” David put in.

“But the suspense is terrible,” Janet sighed. “I have to write a composition for English tomorrow—I think I will make it the ‘Dangers of Flying.’”

“Flying is no more dangerous than driving an automobile,” Peter put in scornfully. “Airplanes have saved hundreds of lives. Look at the time that aviator flew that serum to those Eskimos up north.”

“And the time last winter when airplanes dropped food to people stranded in their homes by blizzards and unable to drive miles to the nearest town for food,” from David.

“They are as safe as anything else nowadays,” declared Phyllis.

“Maybe so,” Janet said, unconvinced.

“You can have breakfast one morning in New York and the next in California,” added Valerie. “Think of it!”

“I’m thinking of it,” Janet said. “So what?”

“Look at the time saved,” pointed out Peter. “Suppose your life depended on reaching a certain point at a definite time. What would you do?”

“Fly,” Janet said, “and maybe I would get there and maybe I wouldn’t.”

“Did you read the piece in the newspaper the other day about a man who had flown thousands of miles, spent hundreds of hours in the air, and broke his neck by falling down the cellar stairs?” Bruce said. “I’m strong for airplanes.”

“He should never have gone down the cellar,” Janet smiled.

“The pilots of the airplanes are just like the old pioneers. They are exploring new worlds in the air,” contributed Phyllis. “People think they are crazy in trying flights to all corners of the world and stratosphere hops. People thought Columbus was crazy, too. Yet where would we be today if it wasn’t for him?”

“We would probably be living in a tepee and using war paint,” laughed Carol.

“Perhaps you better forget I said anything,” Janet interrupted. “I don’t think I’ll write my composition tomorrow.”

“Well,” Phyllis sighed and looked at her watch, “I’ve got to go home.”

Phyllis’ departure was the signal for the group to break up. As she walked slowly home to the forlorn house on the top of the hill Phyllis’ mind was busy with thoughts of Gale. She entered the house and started up the stairs to her customary retreat for studying before dinner when her Aunt’s voice halted her.

“Phyllis! Come here!”

Her heart heavy with misgivings Phyllis made her way reluctantly down the stairs again to the kitchen where her Aunt was. The tone of her Aunt’s voice had been angry and Phyllis was afraid there was another tirade against herself in the offing. Perpetually she lived in dread of her Aunt’s scoldings and punishments. She had done nothing wrong that she knew of, but quite often some little inoffensive act was the signal for her Aunt’s anger to flare up.

Now as she approached the kitchen door with slow and uneven steps she was afraid. Phyllis stopped on the threshold to watch her Aunt who was tying a bandage around the hand of Minnie, the woman who came in twice a week to help with the cooking and housework.

“Did you want me, Aunt Melba?”

“Of course I want you or I wouldn’t have called you. Don’t stand there! Minnie has burned her hand and all the preserving to be done! You’ve got to help.”

Phyllis opened her lips to tell her Aunt of the difficult history examination on the morrow, one which would require hours of study, but she swallowed the words and went forward. She would have to study tonight after her Aunt was in bed.

“Come, child! Make yourself useful. Rinse those jars.”

Phyllis moved like an automaton under her Aunt’s disapproving eyes.

“Has anything been heard about Gale Howard?” her Aunt asked after a while.

“No,” Phyllis said in a low voice, “she is still missing.”

“Hmph! Probably run off for some fun somewhere never thinking of the worry to her parents. She’s a wild one, that girl. I never liked——”

“She is a fine girl,” Phyllis interrupted hotly. Her Aunt never failed to rouse Phyllis’ resentment when she talked about her friends. “There isn’t a nicer girl in Marchton than Gale Howard. She is a friend of mine, too,” Phyllis finished proudly.

“I won’t have you associating with that crowd from the high school!” her Aunt said, coldly despotic. “I have told you time and time again. You shall not——”

“I shall too!” Phyllis said, for once in her young life openly defying her Aunt. “I shall see them whenever I can. You won’t let me have any friends! Even now you want to separate me from them by not sending me to Briarhurst because they are going there.”

“Phyllis! How dare you speak so? Go to your room!”

Without another word Phyllis whirled and marched from the kitchen. She mounted the stairs to her room and closed the door behind her. Only for an instant a smile hovered about her lips. There was more than one way of escaping from working in the hot kitchen. Not that she had deliberately, with such an intention, spoken so rashly to her Aunt! Her words had been forced from her. Now she was regretting them with all her heart, but she would not say she was sorry! She wasn’t sorry, and what she had said was true—every word! But it would make life so difficult for her. Her Aunt’s disapproval hung over the house like a dark cloud unnerving Phyllis more at every moment.

What her Aunt had said about Gale had made Phyllis angry. Gale was her best friend. They would have done anything for each other. More than ever now, when they did not know where Gale was, what had happened to her, or when they would see her again, Phyllis could not let anyone speak slightingly of her.

It was hard for Phyllis to remember how many hours she and Gale and Valerie and the other girls had spent together when now perhaps Gale was needing them and they didn’t even know it. She knelt by the window and listened to the cool late autumn air rustling the tree branches against the window pane.

After a while her thoughts returned to the present. She rose and took up her history book. Tomorrow’s examination would mean a lot to her marks and she must be ready for it. But with the worry of Gale, and her recent quarrel with her Aunt fresh in her mind, she found it difficult to concentrate on the book before her.