The “Lark” soared so high and swiftly over Cuba that it would have taken a racer to have caught even a second glimpse of her, and although it made the trip less simple both boys were glad that the thick atmosphere was not dispelled south of the island. Caldwell grimly made his calculations for their course and Austin checked up on them.

“Methinks this flight is not going to be all baby talk, Buddy,” Jim announced.

“Bet my new shirt against a set of red flannels that we hit some hot spots that won’t be all Peruvian weather,” Bob added.

“Wish we didn’t have to stop this side of Belize, but I reckon we better. We’re not doing a Lindbergh.” Just then the light flashed and Jim took up the speaking tube. “Are you there!”

“Certainly. I observe we are leaving Havana in our rear.” “That’s good, we reared right over it and lost the reception committee, if one was out looking for us.”

“It’s pretty foggy, my boy.”

“We don’t need to worry about that because we don’t have to come down. We’ll probably hit some breaks in it before sunset. How do you like the trip? I forgot to suggest that you bring anything to read,” Jim laughed, and his father chuckled.

“Mother was more thoughtful. She put in a couple of books—mystery stories, and I have read half of one of them,” Mr. Austin answered.

“Great stuff. Maybe we can get some ideas. Got everything you need so that you can eat when the spirit moves?”

“Plenty.”

“Because if you haven’t, there’s a trolley line from the two cock-pits. Just slide up the round disk and you’ll find an opening big enough to send a club sandwich through.”

“I investigated the disk some hours ago, and I judge it opens behind the passenger seat in front.”

“It does. I’ll leave the door open so you need not be afraid when it gets dark. Got your sky-light up?”

“No. I find it very comfortable with it down. So long.”

“Everything O.K.?” Bob inquired.

“Top hole. He didn’t say anything about noticing the plane. He’s been reading a mystery story your mother provided.”

“That’s just like Mom,” Bob laughed. Assured that all was well, Jim went back to his studies, and an hour later he looked up at his step-brother, whose expression was a bit tense.

“Let’s swap places, old fellow,” Jim proposed.

“Don’t care if I do.” They made the change, and as soon as they were in their places, the younger boy began to investigate the hamper. “Shall I give you a hand out?”

“Sure thing.” The fog was considerably more thick than when the plane had dived into it, and as far as Austin could see, there wasn’t a break in any direction. He switched on the lights by the control board, but the tiny cabin was bright enough he decided.

“Can you spare a knee?”

“One.” Jim moved his leg and Bob spread a napkin, balanced a wooden plate on it, and proceeded to fill it with bread, butter, pickles, cold roast beef, and a bottle of milk. “Go easy,” Jim ordered, so the milk was given a safer place on the floor. Although it was early by their watches and also the clock in front of them, they gauged their actions entirely on their stomachs, and attacked the food with keen appetites. When they had eaten all they could, Bob repacked the hamper, then slid his chair forward and prepared to take a nap.

“Better put a coat over you,” Jim suggested. He pulled out his own jacket and threw it over his Flying Buddy.

“I say, Jim. Wonder if we hadn’t better stick by the plane all night?”

“You mean keep on watch?”

“Yes. We’d be in a dandy fix if we found it with the propeller gone in the morning.”

“Let’s see what sort of place we can park it in,” Jim suggested. He had been wondering uneasily about the town in which they expected to spend the night, and he felt reasonably sure there would be no airdrome, or a garage sufficiently large to admit the plane. On thinking it over, he decided that the island was probably thinly settled, and in that case there must be some sort of barn or open shed. After that, Bob settled back comfortably, his mouth dropped open, and if the engine had not been roaring so melodiously, the boy’s snores would have been audible.

“He sure can go to sleep without much trouble,” Jim grinned, but he knew that Bob had been so excited the night before that he had slept little, and he had been up two hours earlier than anyone on the K-A that morning. The time passed quickly, and at last the young pilot managed to get above the fog and see the great sun, which was almost setting. He drove along the top of the ceiling for a while, then dived through, and a few miles ahead he made out the dim edge of an island.

“That’s Jamaica. It must be,” he told himself. Then he picked up the tube to speak to his father in the back. “How goes it?”

“Fine.”

“We’ll land down here.”

“All right. I shall certainly be glad to stretch my legs.” “I say, are we in Peru?” Bob poked up his head.

“We passed that hours ago,” Jim laughed.

“Gee, I had a heck of a dream.”

“Don’t tell it before breakfast, it’s bad luck.”

Jim circled the “Lark” above the island and selected an open space back of the town which he was sure was Montego. The Jamaica Island lay half hidden in the midst, and the three air travelers sat tensely wondering what the next few minutes would have in store for them. Swiftly the plane glided down and at last lighted near a group of low buildings that might belong to a small piece of farm land. None of them thought it strange that it should be a boy who would come racing inquisitively, for there isn’t a youngster on the face of the earth who could resist the force which compels him to run to a descending machine.

“Hello, Bud,” Jim called experimentally.

“Hello,” the little fellow drawled, and the three were delighted that the salutation was understood.

“May we leave our plane here, and get lodgings for the night?” was the next query. “Pop’s coming.” Sure enough, a tall weather-beaten man came leisurely to greet them, and the boy shouted eagerly, “They want to stay the night.”

“They kin set in the shed,” the man answered.

“Thank you. We’ll be glad to pay,” Mr. Austin explained.

“Doesn’t cost me anything,” the man shrugged indifferently.

“It is worth something to us.”

“Satisfy yourself. You can get something to eat in the house, but we can’t sleep you. There’s grass in the shed.” With that cordial reception, he strolled off, his son at his heels, and Jim taxied the plane into the long open shed, which might have been built for cows, but had apparently stood unused for months or years. The Flying Buddies surveyed the place while Mr. Austin made his way to the house to arrange for food. He found a woman with a sick child in her arms, so instead of asking her to prepare a meal, he bought a few supplies which he carried back to the Buddies.

“I didn’t get much,” he announced.

“We can fix a bunk with the grass,” Jim told him. “There’s plenty of it and it’s clean. We thought we’d sleep down here by the plane, but there’s a more comfortable—”

“Let’s stay together,” the man proposed. “How about gas?”

“We don’t have to have it but I may as well see if we can get some in the town. I’ll take a walk down and find out. It isn’t more than a mile and it’s still light enough so that I can find my way,” Jim told him.

“Very well. I take it that you think the “Lark” should not be left without a guard.”

“Yes, we do, Dad.”

“I’ll stay with Bob. We can walk around a bit. If we feel like eating there is plenty in the hamper if I didn’t get enough from the woman. Have a snack with us before you go?”

“Guess not. I’ll trot along.”

Jim started across the sandy open space and soon came to a rough winding road that led toward the town. Walking briskly he wished they might stay over a day and get acquainted with that section of the famous island, but perhaps they could do that on the return trip when the business and its dangers were concluded. The boy had gone about half the distance when he overtook a lumbering cart hauled by two young steers, and this struck him as odd. In Canada he had seen ox teams plodding along and had thought them mighty interesting, but the idea of making beasts of burden out of cattle such as ran wild over the vast plains of Texas was a strange sight. As he neared Montego, with its narrow streets and low buildings, he noticed a few people glance after him curiously. Here and there he passed groups of children, ranging in color from fairest little tow-heads, to the blackest and kinkiest. Further along he met an hilarious band dancing mischievously around a hunch-back, who seemed even more dwarfed than his crippledness warranted.

“It’s good luck to rub his back,” cried one of the tormentors.

“It will make our cow well,” put in another as he skipped about the victim in an effort to touch the deformity.

“He keeps witches in his house.” Jim eyed the gang resentfully as he drew closer and had made up his mind to interfere, but was saved from participating in the brawl by a tall, military-looking man who suddenly stepped into the midst of the children; brandishing a cane swiftly to right and left.

“Begone, you vagabonds,” he shouted, and the youngsters scattered every which way, leaving the crippled dwarf and his rescuer standing alone. Then the man spoke sharply to the hunch-back, who promptly dodged out of sight quite as quickly as if he too expected a blow from the heavy stick. The big fellow looked none too prepossessing, so Austin turned down a near-by lane, and in a few minutes he found himself in what there was of the business section of Montego.

Jim searched about for a sign of a gas-station, but discovered none, then he watched for a garage, either public or private, and at last he came to a small one, where a negro was sleeping contentedly in a backless chair tilted precariously against the wall. The boy glanced into the tumbled building, but there was no sign of filling equipment, and as he stepped by the attendant, the chap opened his eyes a narrow slit.

“I want to buy some gas,” Jim told him.

“Yas—”

“Have you got any here?”

“Yas—” “I’d like to buy some.”

“Ebbeyket—” the man drawled, and from the depths of somewhere a second man appeared. He stood a moment eyeing Jim, but the man at the door had resumed his nap.

“I want to buy some gas,” Jim explained.

“Yasss—”

“Right away.”

The chap yawned, then turned about, and without taking the trouble to make any sort of sign, he shuffled off deeper into the building. Jim followed and hoped the process of purchasing gas was not going to be too complicated. The colored man led the way to the rear, and there, in the dirt floor, Jim saw a deep hole into which one descended by rather a steep incline. The leader of the expedition showed no disposition to go any further.

“Is it down there?”

“Yes.” He sat down as if the effort was too much for him.

“How can I get it?” Jim wanted to know. He felt like shaking the fellow, but stuffed his hands into his pockets instead.

“Get it?” Austin couldn’t tell whether it was an answer or another question, but he decided to see if he were expected to serve himself, so he started down the narrow incline and in a moment stood before a tumbled door. Through the cave-like opening he saw an odd collection of goods and junk, but in the middle was a familiar metal tank which rested on a pair of saw horses. There was a faucet at one end, and the boy looked around for some sort of container. The only things he could see were some tall empty buckets.

“Haven’t you got a covered can?” he called, but the man who had been his escort did not reply, so in exasperation, the boy proceeded to fill one of the pails. He wondered how he would get the stuff to the “Lark,” and sincerely hoped that if he had to carry it he wouldn’t pass any careless smokers. It took the tiny stream quite a while to fill the pail but finally, when Austin had as much as he wanted, he lugged it up the incline, where he found the colored man curled comfortably on a pile of burlap. He shook the fellow vigorously and finally had him awake.

“Can I get this hauled up the road?” he demanded. The chap shrugged, so the boy went to look for some sort of vehicle and was rewarded by the sight of a team of steers sauntering past the building. “Hey, will you haul some gas up the road for me?” The queer team stopped at the sound of the voice, and the driver turned himself almost all the way around. Jim repeated his question and the man shifted a cud from one side of his mouth to the other.

“I’m through,” he remarked indifferently, and the team proceeded on its way, while Jim looked for some other conveyance. He had to go up the street to find one, and as he hurried along he saw the hunchback the children had been tormenting, striding as fast as his short legs would permit, beside the tall man who had scattered the gang. They were an odd pair, and after Austin ran by, the man called quickly, “Looking for someone?”

Jim turned, and the chap smiled cordially.

“I’m getting some gas and want to have it taken to my plane,” he explained. “I can’t seem to find anyone who isn’t asleep.” As he spoke, the dwarf faded out of the picture but Jim didn’t give him a thought.

“Where is it, the gas, I mean?” the stranger inquired politely.

“In that barn, or whatever it is,” Jim answered.

“And your plane?”

“About a mile up the road. We came down back of the town on a sort of farm where we are spending the night.”

“I have a small car, I’ll fetch it up to you in about an hour, if that will be time enough. I am driving that way,” he offered.

“Thank you very much. I’ll appreciate it no end,” Jim said heartily and wondered why he had thought the man unpleasant.

“It will be no trouble at all. I’m glad to help you out.” The chap strode off as if determined not to listen to more thanks, and Jim shook his head.

“I certainly should like to know more about this place. I must have hit it at an odd time, for they are a queer bunch.” He went back to the barn, managed to get the doorman to settle the account, and chuckled when the attendant seemed to think that tomorrow would do nicely for the final transaction of the business. Darkness was settling slowly and gently over the land, and Austin started for the camp. He noticed that there wasn’t a sign of a star and his trained weather sense warned him that rain was in the air. By the time he reached the point where he had to turn across the field, or whatever it was, it was quite dark, but he saw his Flying Buddy’s flash illuminating the shed, and his father’s cigar as the man hurried to meet him.

“You were gone quite a while, my boy.”

“I guess it takes quite a while to get anything done in Montego, Dad,” he laughed, and recounted his experiences to the amusement of his audience.

“At any rate, the man with the car is on the job promptly,” Bob announced, as the automobile came tumbling toward them.

“We greatly appreciate—”

“Glad to be able to help you out. I’m on my way to Kingston, and in a hurry.” There was something about the brief phrases which did not invite further discussion, so the gas was unloaded quickly and the car dashed off into the darkness.

“Let’s get to roost and be on our way at crack of dawn,” Bob suggested.

“Suits me,” Jim agreed. It had been a long day and he was ready to rest, so he helped the younger boy put the final touches on their bed.

“I’m going to read a little while. You turn in now,” said Bob.

“Thought you were going to bed.”

“Did intend to, but I guess I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“Well, all right. You sit with your foot on me and give me a kick if anything goes wrong,” Jim directed.

“What’s the matter with my sitting the first watch?” Dad proposed.

“Everything. If things aren’t all right, I’ll call you later.”

“Very well.” In a few minutes both Jim and his father were sound asleep, while Caldwell doubled up with a book, but he didn’t read very attentively. The hours slipped by. Before midnight the world seemed to be enveloped in a mist which was growing thicker, and a bit later, the rain came down in an uncertain sprinkle which gradually grew in strength and courage until it was a downpour. Quietly Bob got rubber blankets, spread one over the sleepers, and wrapped himself in the other. He left his light on, and presently he too was fast asleep. When he opened his eyes the smell of toasting bacon assailed his nostrils and the sight of Jim busy over a camp fire made him sit up quickly.

“Gosh, is it morning?” It was still raining, but the camp was fairly dry, and the breakfast promised to fill a deep cavity.

“It’s early, but we’re going to start as soon as we can. How late did you sit up?” Jim asked.

“About twelve. Everything all right?”

“Sure. Dad waked about half past twelve and didn’t go to sleep again. Then he called me and we decided to let you have a few extra snoozes.”

“Thanks.” They did not linger over the preparations to get away, and as Mr. Austin had settled with the farmer, there was nothing to detain them, so about the time the sun should have been squinting over the horizon if the weather had been clear, they were in their cock-pits. With the covering in place, they were dry and comfortable, and in the rear, Mr. Austin had tipped his seat to an angle so that he could catch up lost sleep. The “Lark” ran out over the spongy ground, lifted heavily, then went soaring into the air, her motor roaring full blast.

“Well, we got away from there without any trouble,” Bob announced with satisfaction as he watched Jim busy with the controls.

“Yes. Reckon we gave that lad at Havana the slip good and proper,” he nodded. “Perhaps we were nuts about what he was after, but it was not a bad idea to keep on the safe side. Wow, this is thick.”

“All right back there?” Bob called through the tube.

“Quite snug, thank you.”

Austin kept the plane climbing steadily until the altitude meter registered twenty thousand feet, then he leveled off for the air was less dense near the ceiling, set his course for Belize, and settled down for the long run to British Honduras. Presently they were soaring through clear skies, but the fog rolled in thick waves and billows beneath them.

“I say, Buddy, change places with me and you can get at those lessons again. I got in some extra licks last night on my stuff,” Bob proposed. “Very well.” Presently they had changed places and Austin got out his book and note papers. The plane was sailing smoothly and although the fog reached almost up to them at times, the job of piloting was comparatively easy and the boy thought, with an amused smile, of Don Haurea and his men back in the laboratory. When he returned home he would see records of the flight, and furthermore, he would probably be able to tell just how dangerous Lieutenant Morrow had been and exactly why that plane in Havana had shown so much interest in their arrival at Cuba. In a short while the boy was completely absorbed in what he was reading and it wasn’t until Bob pressed his foot vigorously that his attention was called back to the present.

“I say, there’s something rotten about the “Lark”. She’s been flying rather heavy, and—what in the name of Sampson’s donkey is that smell?” Jim glanced at the board and at the same time sniffed cautiously. There was a faint, unfamiliar odor about the tiny cabin, but it was more like the heavy fragrance of too many flowers than anything decaying. “It’s queer. I’ll lift the roof.” He dropped his work under the seat, unlatched the covering and swung it back. “We haven’t needed that thing, and might have put it up when we got out of the rain.”

“Yes. Suppose that smell is from tropical plants?”

“Good heavens, how could it be?” Austin picked up the tube to speak with his father, if the man were awake, and as he did so his eyes fell on the reflection globe in which he could see the rear of the plane. The end of the tube dropped from his hand, his lower jaw sagged, and he choked in horror. Bob looked at him quickly.

“What is it, old man?”

“Good God, look.” He pointed to the mirror, but the range of Bob’s vision was different, so he turned his head. What he saw left him perfectly speechless. All unconscious that he was being observed, some one was crawling out of the rear cock-pit. Someone who looked more like a monkey than a man, and as he clung to the rim, he secured the transparent cover of the cock-pit.

“What is it?” Bob finally gasped. “The dwarf, Buddy, we didn’t get off as easily as we thought.”

“That smell must have come through the opening—Jim—your—” But the boy did not finish the sentence.