The four days which followed the demise of Her Highness were sad ones and the whole family on the K-A ranch missed the convenience the little plane had afforded them. It seemed to the buddies that doing everything without the machine was far slower than they had ever realized, but they were both too busy to waste time in regret over the loss of their capable assistant. Then the morning of the fourth day brought the steady roar of an airplane as it beat its way swiftly down Cap Rock, lighting and sliding on a pair of runners until its pilot succeeded in bringing it to a halt.

“This the K-A?” he called to the choreboy who was racing to meet him.

“Yes, sir. Can you take the buggy around this way? Some horses are being hazed up the trail, they’ll be here any minute, and they may get scared of the machine,” he explained and his youthful eyes were eagerly taking in the lines of the new arrival.

“All right, old man, where had I better park?”

“Close to those trees, off the road.” The pilot lost no time in following directions and it was well that he did for he had barely left the vicinity when a bunch of young broncs came crashing through the woods, sending the snow flying in a thick screen all around them.

“Ki-yi. Ki-yi.” The air was filled with the musical cry, and the pilot, as soon as he again stopped his plane, climbed on top of it to watch the performance. He saw the broncs rear, kick, plunge and circle as they were being driven steadily forward, and the man could hear the creak of saddles, the jingle of bridles and crack of quirts as the cowboys dashed hither and yon to keep their charges from rushing off toward the enormous cliff which rose in a hundred-foot wall a quarter of a mile ahead. One young bay succeeded in breaking away. The pilot saw it thundering toward him; its eyes flaming, nostrils wide, and foam flecked about its mouth. The man was too startled and fascinated to realize his danger, then he heard another call.

“Ki—ki—ki.” A cowboy, looking for all the world as if he belonged in a wonderful tale of old-time west came racing after the truant, his pinto apparently requiring no guiding, and his hands busy with a long rope which was singing over his head. An instant later the cow-pony cut in front of the plane, the rope flashed out, its loop opened and dropped over the bay’s thrashing hoofs. As if the whole affair were one complete piece of perfect co-operation, the pinto braced its fore feet, the cowboy pulled back, and the runaway bay was secured.

“Bravo, bravo—what a circus!” The pilot yelled as lustily as a small boy in peanut row at a wild-west show, and then the cowboy glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh, hello,” he shouted. His eyes lighted happily at sight of the plane, but he couldn’t say anything more for the bronc was making a frantic effort to get free of the lariat and required his undivided attention. In a minute he was being hazed along with the bunch and finally all of them were milling around the huge corral, while the riders went about their various tasks. That accomplished, the pilot saw the pinto and its rider say something to another rider on another pinto, then the pair turned their horses’ heads toward the plane.

“By George,” the pilot exclaimed enthusiastically. “I didn’t suppose a man could see anything like that these days. It’s simply great!”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Bob answered. “The snow made the range a hard feeding ground, so we are bringing the stock in.”

“Keep them here all the rest of the winter?”

“Only a few that look as if they need extra care. We’ll give the others a week around here, then turn them loose,” Bob answered.

“It depends some on the weather,” Jim added, and then the pilot recognized the young fellow who had turned back the unruly bay. “Glad you got here so quickly with the new plane.”

“I’m glad that I didn’t miss the show. My name’s Kramer and I hope I get permission to hang around here a few days. If the fellow who is to pilot this machine is a crackerjack, my vacation is spoiled, but if he doesn’t know much about flying I can send word to the firm that I must stay to teach him.”

“Guess you’re here for a run,” Bob told him, “and you better get your message off as soon as you can. I’m the lad who has to fork the bird, and my side kick here. We both have a lot to learn. Last time I tried to do sky-riding I brought the machine down in flames.”

“Gee, that was tough luck,” Kramer said sympathetically. “I’ll like staying around and you can be sure I’ll do all I can to instruct you so nothing of the kind will happen again. You’re a pretty good sport, really, because very often when a man has an experience like that he gets air-shy—is off flying for the rest of his life.”

“We’ll appreciate your help. I watched the kid come down and it was no party. The bus looked like a Fourth of July rocket shooting the wrong way,” Jim announced. Then followed instructions and Kramer sized up his prospective students with real interest.

“You know, even if you did have an accident you look to me like the type who could be top-notch pilots if you don’t get discouraged, and after all, you are both young. In a few years, flying will be as ordinary as automobiles then you’ll be glad you took it up and stuck to it,” he told them earnestly.

“This looks like quite an air bucker,” Bob remarked as soberly as a judge. He urged the reluctant Tut close and his eyes traveled quickly over Her Highness’ successor.

“It’s a great machine. Perhaps you know that it’s a Pitcairn mailwing. They are used a lot as mail carriers, but airmen have become interested in them for sport use. It’s seven-cylinder, two hundred and twenty-five horse power. My boss said that Mr. Austin told him over the telephone that he wants a good serviceable plane for practical purposes. You could not get anything better than this. It’s got two cock-pits, that can be covered in bad weather and as soon as you learn more about flying, if it’s storming, you can shut yourselves up snug as a bug in a rug, and fly—”

“Flipping Flapjacks, you mean without looking at the ground?” Bob interrupted incredulously. “Sure—positively,” Kramer answered emphatically.

“Here comes Dad,” Jim declared. “He’s the air-minded member of the family. When the other crate cracked up he got right in touch with your firm and ordered another. Said the K-A couldn’t get along without one. It’s a wonder to me he didn’t order a herd of them.”

“That goes to show you how really progressive he is. Why most men of his generation—a lot of them, anyway, think flying is all nonsense—”

“This is Mr. Kramer, Dad. We just told him we hope he can stay a while and give us instructions in flying.” Mr. Austin glanced questioningly at his son.

“Yes,” Bob added. “Kramer never saw a real ranch, except from the sky. He sat here and almost let the broncs jump over him. He likes horses.” Then Mr. Austin understood what was in the Flying Buddies’ minds so he nodded approval.

“It will give us a great deal of pleasure to have him stay as long as he can, and I am sure that your mother and I shall feel much more comfortable if we are confident that you have had thorough instructions. It seems to me that you boys are a little slow in bringing Mr. Kramer to the house. He has had a long trip, perhaps a hard one, and sitting here is cold work—”

“Oh, I was just telling them some things about the machine. My boss said that if this plane doesn’t suit you, we’ll send another model, sir, but from what you told him over the telephone, he thought this would be the best for your purpose,” Kramer said respectfully.

“The men of your firm must know a good machine,” Mr. Austin smiled.

“Absolutely—but the customer has to be satisfied. I don’t mind telling you that we all feel kind of cocky over a telephone order—”

“What’s the telephone for?” the older man asked.

“Oh, sure thing, it’s to save time and all that, but there aren’t many people who will buy a plane on short notice, why they want to see them all, read about them, listen to a man talk his head off, be taken up—”

“But my dear young man—it seems to me that when one wants a plane that is a great waste of energy to say nothing of time. Come in and meet Mrs. Austin and get rested.”

“I’ll take you up any time you can go,” Kramer offered.

“After lunch,” Jim answered.

After lunch the Sky Buddies listened with strained attention while Kramer conscientiously taught them the operation of the Pitcairn. The instructor carefully went from the propeller to the tail telling the name of every part and explaining each function in detail, while the boys listened with anxious frowns quite as if it were so much Greek to them. Finally Bob sighed heavily.

“One thing I like about a plane,” he announced.

“You’ll soon learn to like the whole bus,” Kramer smiled, “but what appeals to you particularly?”

“The tail. Dogs and horses have them and they are real understandable parts,” the boy replied soberly.

“Yes,” Jim added, “but a dog or a horse doesn’t have to have anyone work his tail for him. He manages his own rudder.”

“I expect you know dogs and horses better than I do airplanes,” Kramer laughed goodnaturedly. “Perhaps, while I’m here, you’ll give me a few lessons in managing them.”

“Sure,” Jim agreed heartily. “We’ll dress you up in a pair of slip-ins, and show you how to fork a bucker.”

“Guess I’d rather watch someone more experienced do that. I say, if you want to go anywhere, we might take a hop. Perhaps the first time up, I’d better do the piloting, but you can learn a lot—”

“Mom wants some pink crochet cotton. Let’s go to Crofton,” Bob proposed, then added quickly, “You take Jim in with you first. I’d kind of like to sit in the back with nothing to do.”

“That’s all right with me—”

“Why the heck can’t you let me take things easy?” Jim urged.

“Go on, you learn first. I have to get over being air-shy. Don’t want my insides doing a tail spin till they get kind of used to it.”

“It’s a good idea,” Kramer put in. “Sit in the back until we get to Crofton. It will restore your confidence. Perhaps on the return trip you can ride in front.”

“Wall—” Jim drawled. “Sure that’s pink crochet cotton?”

“Absolutely, I wrote it down.” Bob fished about in his pocket and found a scrap of wrapping paper. “Here it is. One skein of blue twist.”

“You were almost right, Buddy,” Kramer laughed heartily. “Anything else she wants while we are there?”

“The mail,” Jim answered.

“And the newspapers,” Bob grinned.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Presently the Pitcairn was soaring splendidly into the air, and in the front Jim eyed the controls. His fingers itched to take hold of them, but he braced himself and hooked his hands under his safety belt, while Kramer cheerfully did his piloting so the student could see every operation and analyze its purpose. Once in the air it wasn’t so simple keeping up the pretense of ignorance and twice Austin nearly gave himself away, but Kramer was so absorbed in his task that the slips were unnoticed. However, he did feel that he was making great progress with this youngster, but he rather anticipated a more difficult time when he took Bob in hand.

There wasn’t a single mishap during the trip, and finally, when they reached the little town, the pilot began to look about for the best place to land. With the blanket of snow on the ground visibility was hard, and Kramer circled over several sites before he finally turned to the boy.

“I’m looking for a place to come down,” he announced through the tube.

“The cattle pen by the freight yard. It’s been trampled,” Jim suggested and pointed to the triangular runway. It was smaller than Kramer wished and built on a steep incline, but he didn’t want the new owner to think the plane wouldn’t do all that was expected of her, so he started the descent and at last landed perfectly. Austin hid a smile of appreciation at the accomplishment, and nodded indifferently.

“I’ll get the yellow yarn—”

“Blue twist,” Kramer corrected quickly.

“Sure. You come along so I won’t get it wrong, and you can wire your firm from here, unless you did it at the house,” Bob proposed.

“It slipped my mind,” Kramer admitted.

“I’ll wait here,” Jim decided. He slid low in the cock-pit as soon as the pair were out of sight, and his mind was busy with the idea that someone—perhaps the lad who was responsible for the loss of Her Highness, might come nosing around. He wanted to give whoever it was plenty of opportunity to get close in case he was again in the vicinity. Austin kept perfectly quiet, his head well below the rim of the cock-pit.

He heard the jingle of bells as small sleighs slid by, the shout of neighborly greetings, an occasional automobile and the distant whine of a buzz-saw as it bit into huge logs, cutting them into cordwood. The boy was beginning to believe that his vigilance was to go unrewarded when he heard the thud of a pair of boots dropping with someone into the cattle enclosure; then came the cautious approach. They were coming to the plane, that was evident, and Jim got ready. Watching, with every muscle keyed to spring, he waited. There was a moment’s hesitation, whoever it was stopped under the wing, then a second later a hand rested within a few inches of his face. He swung up with all his strength, caught the wrist firmly and yanked. At that there was a scraping, then the business end of a six-shooter was pointed into his face, and simultaneously he leaped up with a yell. “What—” He stopped short and stared in startled amazement.

“Oh, that you, Austin?” The gun was slipped back to its holster.

“Sure, Sheriff.” Jim was too astounded to say anything more.

“I calculated I’d find you here, and I’m right glad you dropped in to town today because I’m going to ask you to help me.”

“I’ll do anything I can,” Jim assured him.

“Wall, it’s this way. You know we’ve been keeping the Gordon place under observation. Got a deputy there most of the time. Maybe he’s getting nutty, I don’t know, he’s alone and there’s a sort of sameness to this here snow. He reported a couple of days ago that he thought someone was hanging out up there but he hasn’t been able to fetch up with whoever it is and he ain’t seen no tracks. I ain’t had a minute to go and look myself, and I ain’t got no one to send right now. He put in a call ’bout noon time. Said he’s seen some tracks, they look like a bear’s.”

“There are no bears out this time of year,” Jim reminded him.

“I told him the old fellows has crawled in and pulled their holes after ’em, but he says it’s a big bear track plain as can be and it’s round the ranch house.”

“What can we do for you?”

“Wish you’d stop on your way home and see what the heck’s eatin’ the feller. It’s Carl Summers—reckon you know him.”

“Yes, sure I know Carl,” Jim replied.

“He’s needin’ a job, and I’se needin’ a watchman, sort of, so I swore him in. He rigged up a contraption—taps the wire and that’s the way he reports every day to me,” the sheriff explained.

“Couldn’t he follow the tracks and see where they lead?” Jim asked.

“That’s the goldurnest part of it. They only lead ’round in a circle. Ain’t no entrance or exit, as it were. He can’t find no place where they start or stop.”

“That is odd. What do you want us to do?”

“See what Carl has to show you and hear what he has to say. If he seems kind o’ sick, take him to your house en fetch the doctor, or if he’s all right, you get in touch with me. If you take him home, ask your pa if he can spare a man to kind o’ keep his eye on the place for a couple o’ days till I can get someone else. I got a bee in my bonnet that young Gordon will land back there one o’ these days, and I’m aimin’ to catch him when he does.”

“We’ll be glad to stop and have a talk with him. I can telephone you from there if it’s anything serious,” Jim agreed.

“That’s fine. I knew I’d find you here soon’s I saw Bob swinging up the street. Watched you the other day when the kid came down and you were loafing here—” He broke off suddenly, and frowned. “Why the name o’ hen’s teeth did you make such a grab at me? Boy, you might o’ got a whole round of lead in you and I’d had a fierce time apologizing to your folks.”

“I was watching for a sneak—”

“Think you caught him?”

“Oh, no, I know I haven’t—but say, what did you mean when you said that you saw me in the cock-pit the other day?” Jim asked.

“Saw you from my window up there. That is, I happened to look out and discovered the plane parked in the freight yard and you fussing away in the back seat.” “I didn’t come with Bob the other day,” Jim told him.

“You didn’t come—why I saw you as plain—”

“My face?” Jim was excited. He hoped the sheriff could describe the fellow who was responsible for the loss of Her Highness.

“Wall no, can’t say that I did. Saw the top of that helmet and as I know there are only two Flyin’ Buddies in these parts, I reckoned it was you,” the man answered, and Austin was most disappointed.

“It wasn’t, and great guns I wish you’d come over then,” he said with a sigh. He went on and explained about the burning of the plane and the sheriff scowled.

“Thunderation, that ain’t lookin’ too good.” He took off his hat and scratched his head. “You-all got a hunch that plane’s death—as it were—wasn’t due to no natural causes?”

“That’s the way it looks.”

“All them guys that might be sore on you because of last summer at the Don’s place is working off their grudge in jail—that is—let me see, Gordon got away—the young feller I mean, en the chauffeur chap. Humph. Maybe Carl ain’t so loony. You can shoot?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe it’s mighty important that someone get up there to Carl fast as he can get. You take a set o’ irons—I’ll get ’em—one for you and one for Bob—”

“There’s another chap with us—name’s Kramer—he came with the new plane. I don’t know if he can shoot or not—”

“I’ll get three.” The man hurried off and while he was gone, Bob and the instructor returned with an arm full of mail.

“Get that red—”

“Blue,” Kramer corrected with a laugh.

“We have to do an errand for the sheriff.” By the time the officer had returned, Jim had given his companions details of what was required and they both looked rather sober at the task before them.

“You boys know that Gordon—if you see him don’t take no chances. I’m gettin’ a gang together, and we’ll follow pronto—fast as the automobile can bring us.”

“We could take you along now,” Kramer suggested.

“I can’t leave the office for half an hour. Got something needs my attention here and it’s almost as important as gettin’ Gordon. Do you swear to do your duty as officers of the law and upholders of the Constitution of the United States? That ain’t real regular, but you know what it means.”

“I do,” came from three throats. Then they climbed into the cock-pits.