“I have some errands at Isle La Motte station, boys, and I’m running up there in the car. If you’ll condescend to ride in anything so slow and primitive, I’m driving down to the turkey farm and you can see what it looks like,” Mr. Fenton invited that afternoon as the boys came up from a swim.

“Well, of course, sir, we wouldn’t be so impolite as to say that we scorn to use your only mode of conveyance,” Jim grinned broadly.

“But we’ll accept with pleasure. I’m looking forward to meeting Hezzy and seeing his face when he learns we are members of the family,” Bob added with relish.

“How soon are you starting?”

“As soon as you are ready,” Mr. Fenton told them, so they raced into the house and made a wild scramble to get into their clothes. In record time they were out, their faces were flushed from the stampede and the cold dip.

“You surely have a grand lake in your back yard. I never enjoyed a swim so much in my life,” Jim volunteered as they climbed into the seat of the waiting car.

“Suppose that you have water-holes in Texas and you boys fight over the swimming privileges just as the cattle men used to fight over keeping them for their stock,” Mr. Fenton remarked.

“We don’t kill each other.”

“We’re not so fond of a bath as all that, Uncle Norman. There are four creeks on the ranches, and one corner of Mom’s takes in a slice of Pearl River.”

“In the spring we have it to burn. Sometimes it fills the gullies and part way up the canyons, but that’s only in the Cap Rock section. Almost at the edge of the cliff the land stretches away for about three hundred miles and that’s pretty dry. Some of the ranchers drove wells, but they had to do it a dozen times before they had any luck, and most of them are driven more than a hundred feet to reach water. They force it to the surface and make pools,” Jim explained.

“Is that for the cattle?” Mr. Fenton was greatly interested.

“Yes, and to irrigate the grain.”

As he listened to the bits of description of the boys’ home in Texas, Mr. Fenton was driving along the road which ran in a wavy line all the way around the Island and in ten minutes they came to the log bridge which led to Isle La Motte. Here and there they passed Vermonters who exchanged greetings with the farmer, and occasionally they passed touring cars. Some of them were carrying full loads, while others were less crowded. A good percentage were trying to take in all the beauty of the “Islands” they were crossing, but the rest looked bored and some of them read. The cars carried plates from almost every state in the Union and were everything from shiny and new, to rattly and very old.

“Great snakes,” Jim remarked. “Looks as if the world and his wife have taken to their automobiles.”

“Glad we have Her Highness. She can’t be crowded off the road,” Bob added and he glanced a bit disdainfully at the travelers. They drove across the bridge, hurried on north and at last came to the little depot, where Mr. Fenton took on a piece of freight, chattered a moment with the agent, then took his place again.

“Now, you’ll see the farm. The place is one that Mrs. Fenton inherited from an uncle of hers. That end of Isle La Motte used to be rather thickly settled for these parts, but the old people died off and the younger ones went to other places to make their homes. It’s quite a farm, nearly three hundred acres, but most of it is timber land, and it’s too far from the main road to cultivate. If we didn’t have the other place, we should have moved over, but it seemed ideal for a poultry farm. Vermont turkeys bring a big price, so we started in a small way and soon it was quite a success. The last couple of years haven’t been so good. The birds are not easy to raise, and we expect many of them to die and don’t mind if a few are stolen, but wholesale loss—a couple of hundred went two nights before you boys arrived.”

“Cracky, that was a wollop,” Bob whistled.

“Have many raids like that?” asked Jim. It sounded like the losses on a big stock ranch.

“There have been quite a few. Well, here we are.” They drove up to the old house which had been built over a hundred years ago, but in spite of its great age, it was sturdy looking. Its architecture, doors, mullioned windows, and wide floorings in the “porch” would have gladdened the heart of a “Colonial” collector. The boys did not know this, of course, but they could appreciate that it was a great old place. Mr. Fenton honked, and in a moment the door was opened and Hezzy emerged.

“How are you, Burley? Dropped around to show the nephews from Texas what a turkey farm looks like.” Hezzy came down the steps and the boys eyed him gravely. “Want you to meet the boys. Jim Austin and Bob Caldwell. They are going to spend a part of the summer with us.”

“Pleased to—” Hezzy was beside the car now, his glasses resting low on his nose as he could look over them.

“Reckon Mr. Burley has met us before,” Bob grinned.

“Oh yes, I forgot. They told me they landed with their plane on the cove and you drove them away. I explained the troubles you have been having.”

“They didn’t one of them say they come from your place, just landed on the lake and said they wanted to see the farm. That was two days, or less, since we lost that big batch—I wasn’t taking no chances,” Hezzy said quickly. He wasn’t a very prepossessing man to look at, but now he smiled at his employer and was most affable.

“Sure, we understand,” Bob assured him, but Jim said never a word.

“Want to look around now?” Hezzy invited cordially.

“We will. I haven’t much time but they can get an idea and come back later if they want to see more,” Mr. Fenton said as they climbed out of the car.

“Oh, they can see it in a few minutes,” Hezzy answered. “It’s pretty much all alike.” He led the way toward the shore, and presently the three were going through the houses, past the wired run-ways, and to the larger enclosure where the bigger birds were confined.

“The thieves must have done some damage if they went over those wires,” Jim remarked as he noted the fine mesh, and that smaller yards were enclosed like a box.

“They got in through the houses,” Hezzy answered promptly. “At night.”

“Got good locks?” Bob asked.

“Best we can buy,” his uncle replied.

“Wish we could help you find the thieves,” said Jim, “but we’re kind of dubs. I lost my watch at school and tried detecting. Began to suspect the president, then I found it in my other suit pocket, so I swore off sleuthing.”

“You bet, it’s a dangerous business, but I suppose you have someone on the job, Uncle Norman!”

“Well, no, we haven’t. We just try our best to catch them when they come for more, but we haven’t been able to discover the thieves yet. I see that you have the watch dogs. Are they good?”

“They seem to be fine dogs, but one of them is sick this morning. I gave him a physic. It’s the only thing I know to do for him, but I guess he’ll come around,” Hezzy told them.

“You’d better call up the veterinary. I paid a good price for those beasts and should not like to have to buy another pair,” Mr. Fenton ordered.

“I called up the vet. He told me what to give him,” Hezzy answered.

“Well, guess that’s all you can do. Someone might try to poison them, so keep an eye on what they eat.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Hezzy said hastily. “Want to have a look at him?”

“Not this afternoon, I want to get back. You boys seen enough to satisfy you for the time being?”

“Sure,” Jim answered. “There isn’t much to see. Sometime when you are coming again, we’ll tag along if you’ll let us, sir.”

“Be glad to have you.”

“Sure, bring them along any time,” Hezzy spoke up. “I’m sorry you didn’t say you belonged to the Fentons when you were here yesterday, but I didn’t know, and turkeys are the scariest birds that grow wings.”

“That’s all right, but we thought you might have heard about the plane and recognize us from that,” Jim told him.

“Fent told me you were coming from Texas in an airplane, but when a man’s worried he don’t stop to think. Only thing came into my head was you were some marauders and my men were both away for an hour.”

“All right, come along.” They made their way to the car and were soon on the way home.

“It’s a great place, Uncle Norman. Maybe when we’re flying around we can locate something which will solve the mystery for you, but you’d better not say anything to anyone because it might put the thieves wise and they’d work another way.”

“Very well, I’ll keep it under my hat, but don’t either of you go taking any chances. I want to send you home with whole bones and not in sections. That would be a poor ending for your trip.”

“We’ll be careful. We were over the island with Aunt Belle this morning and I noticed the other end hasn’t much good landing space. Too many trees and shrubs, except one hill that’s kind of bare, but it isn’t very big and it looks steep,” Bob explained.

“Your aunt certainly did enjoy her ride,” the man smiled.

“Don’t we know it! We knew she would, but she was scared blue when we started—said it was like going to have a tooth drawn.” By that time they were at home and after supper they took a stroll along the rocky beach.

“Got something on your mind besides your cap?” Bob asked his buddy.

“Yes, hair.”

“The rest is vacant space—” Bob dodged a stone that his step-brother threw at him.

“No it isn’t, you nut. Keep away from those trees or a squirrel will mistake you for a part of his supper,” Jim retorted. They walked on a way in silence, then they came to a huge boulder, where the older boy sat down.

“I say, what are you thinking about? I never saw you still so long except when you’re in Her Highness and her voice keeps you quiet.”

“How did you like Hezzy?” Jim asked.

“Oh, he wasn’t so bad when we were properly introduced. Guess if we had just lost two hundred turkeys we’d have been out with shot guns too. We’d have fired them first and sent apologies to the family afterwards. What do you think of him?”

“I don’t know. It’s giving me a brainstorm to find out. Can’t blame a man for being on the war path under those conditions. He’s probably the salt of the earth, as your aunt says, and honest as the day is long, but I can’t get over the idea that if we met him on the range in Texas, we’d turn the bull loose on him,” Jim laughed.

“Maybe we would,” Bob admitted, then he grinned, “but you don’t want to forget that you thought the president had your watch.”

“Go on!”

“What’s eating you besides the man’s looks and his reception of us the other day?”

“Not much. It seemed to me that he wasn’t overly anxious to have us come back—”

“Why yes he was—said to come—”

“Any time with your uncle. But when Mr. Fenton said we could come by ourselves and take a look, he said ‘we could see it all in a few minutes.’ Like as not, I’m barking up the wrong tree. Let’s go up early in the morning and see what we can see around the border. I’d kind of like to talk with Bradshaw again. He was real decent and I’d like to know if he located any of that gang yet,” Jim proposed.

“Suits me right down to the ground.”

“We’ve been kind of grounded since we came. Suppose your aunt would mind letting us take a lunch to eat in the air, or some nice place we pick out?”

“Of course she won’t mind. What sort of crab do you think she is?”

“No sort of crab, unless there is a very generous, likable variety, but we don’t want to make extra trouble for her. Your mother said that the farm takes a lot of work and she has no end of things to do. Tomorrow she’s going to can some more—”

“And she’ll be glad to have us out of the way for a while.” Bob was quite positive, and although his aunt showed no desire to be rid of her two guests, she was perfectly willing to fix them up a picnic lunch and by the weight of the basket she handed her nephew the next morning, it promised to be a bountiful meal.

“You boys be careful and if it gets stormy you’d better come right home. I’d be real worried—”

“You must not do that. Didn’t we slide down on the lightning the other day?” Bob demanded.

“Yes, I know you did—”

“And didn’t you enjoy air traveling?”

“Yes, yes indeed I did, I wrote to your mother last night—”

“Then don’t waste any good worries about us,” Bob grinned. “We’ll be fine and come home to roost, like chickens.”

“Hurry up, Her Highness is raring to go,” Jim shouted. He was already in the cock-pit, and his pal raced to join him.

“All O.K.?”

“Sure Mike.” Bob took his place beside his step-brother, adjusted himself, and in a minute Jim opened the throttle, the engine bellowed a challenge to the world, or a joyous roar that it was about to do something worth watching. Up they climbed a thousand feet, circled above North Hero, and as Bob glanced over the side, he caught glimpses of children and farmer folk staring at them. He waved gaily, then Her Highness leveled off and shot northwest.

“Going to have a look about Isle La Motte?” Bob asked through the speaking tube.

“No. If the thief is there I want him to think that we are not interested in looking for him,” Jim answered, then added. “I’m more interested in seeing if we can find Bradshaw.”

“Any special reason?”

“Not one.” Jim answered emphatically.

They sped toward the boundary and both boys were filled with delight at being in the air. Bob kept the glasses to his eyes and every once in a while would point out something attractive so his step-brother would miss none of the delights of the trip. Jim did not wish to go straight north, so he bore westward, following the American side of the border and after an hour, circled about and returned pretty much along the same course. Once they saw a passenger plane soaring majestically south, and then they spied the mail-pilot racing toward them, so they went to meet him. The young fellow in the cock-pit eyed them for a moment but when they grinned and waved, he waggled his wings as a return salute. He seemed such a jolly sort that Jim came about and taxied along beside him for a while, then with a farewell wave, he spiraled high and circled away, the U. S. plane thundering toward Montreal.

“We ought to locate Bradshaw soon,” Bob remarked as they were nearing the territory which their Mounty friend patrolled, and Jim nodded. The younger boy searched the rolling globe beneath them. Through the glasses he could see tiny homesteads, miles of unsettled stretches broken only by a rough road, and an occasional traveler scooting along in a car or seeming to crawl behind a team of horses.

“The place we picked up Bradshaw is about a mile ahead,” Jim remarked, and this time Bob nodded assent. He paid even greater attention to his observations, and once he picked up something that puzzled him. It was a wooded ravine, the sides of which rose steeply and were bristling with overhanging rock. The boy guessed that it was the bed of a stream, but the water had either dried up or been diverted through another outlet. He followed its winding course, and calculated that it must be several miles long and extended well across the borders into the two countries. Twice he thought he saw something moving about, then he looked more sharply for he thought it might be a bear. In a moment more he discovered that it was a man, two of them in fact and they were making their way warily as if anxious to escape detection.

“Slow up a bit Buddy and zig-zag. I want to see this place.” Jim nodded, reduced the speed, zoomed high and spiraled as if he were reaching for the ceiling, then dropped, and all the while Bob kept his eyes on that deep ravine.

“Spot anything, Buddy?”

“I don’t know. You have a look, but be careful. Wouldn’t that ravine down there be a corker place for bootleggers or smugglers to go sneaking from one side to the other? I see some men there now. What do you think?” Jim was already scrutinizing the place.

“Yes it would, but it’s too big for the patrol men to have overlooked,” Jim answered. “That old road runs pretty close to it. Law-breakers would keep out of a place like that.”

“They might not just because it looks so inviting. They might figure they could get away with it because it’s so easy, and they’d have it fixed up. See those fellows?” Jim nodded, and by that time he was keenly interested. He not only saw the two men, but further along he picked up two more who seemed to be hiding in the underbrush, and not far away he espied a two-wheel cart, which was painted green.

“Great guns, we’ve got to find Bradshaw and tell him. He may give us the ha-ha, but just the same, that’s no ordinary bunch down there, and the men are not even smoking cigarettes. Here.” He handed the glasses back to the younger boy. “Be careful no one notices that you are watching them,” he warned tensely. He kicked the rudder, shot Her Highness’ nose into the air, zoomed higher, and five minutes later, Bob caught his arm and nodded toward the land.

“Bradshaw is down there on the road! He’s about five miles, I guess, from where I first saw that ravine, and it ends just a little way below him. Two fellows crawled up after he had passed, got on horses and separated, and Jim, they are following the Mounty, one on each side, as if they are watching him. They are just jogging along as if they are on old plugs, and Jim—there, oh gosh, there are two more coming out a mile ahead on the road.” Bob was so excited that he could hardly speak steadily.

“Are they laying for him?” Jim asked tensely.

“I think they are. Come on, do something, and do it quick, for they are all trotting in close. I think he hears the ones behind, because he’s turning around—Jim—” Jim looked over the side, and just ahead he could see the drama being enacted two-thousand feet beneath him.

“Hang on to your teeth,” he roared.

With a swift flop he turned Her Highness’ nose toward the earth, and with the engine bellowing he came tearing out of the sky. After the first second he shut off the motor, made it cough and sputter, and the plane began to spin and twist, tail first, then nose first. Both boys tried to watch what was taking place beneath them, and Jim’s heart almost stopped beating as he saw that the Mounty was concentrating his whole attention on them. Even Pat had his eyes upward at the startling spectacle of a gyrating airplane that promised to be kindling wood in a few seconds. On they raced, and as they came, Austin saw that two of the outlaws were galloping swiftly, rifles on their arms, toward their prey. They seemed to have thrown caution to the winds and were taking advantage of the commotion above them to complete their wicked crime.

Bob clutched his step-brother’s arm as he too took in the scene, but Jim was not unmindful of their own danger and one eye was on the altitude meter. At five hundred feet he took the controls, started the engine and lifted Her Highness’ nose, then went on into a glide that brought them, a moment later, to a scant two feet of the snorting Patrick and the indignant Mounty. But before the man could utter a protest, Jim bellowed defiantly.

“Aw yes, suppose you think you own the air, and you’re going to give us a blowing up. Well, come on and do it.”

“I surely will,” Bradshaw responded. He was surprised at the whole performance, leaped from his horse, and strode close to them.

“Well, go on and search me if you want to, you half-baked nut—”

“I say, how do you get that way?” Jim was out of the cock-pit, his arms raised above his head as if he were being held up.

“Go on and search,” he shouted. “I’m not afraid of the whole Canadian army,” then he added in a lower tone. “Search me and make out you’re mad as blazes. Rip us both up loud and handsome. We saw some guys out to do you, and they are not far away. Savvy?”

“Yes, I’ll search you, you rough necks.” Swiftly his hands went over the boy from head to foot, while Jim alternated between bitter abuse, punctuated with bits of their story told in a lower tone. In the middle of the performance, Bob hopped out beside his step-brother.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he yelled, and added, “Get out your gun, they’re just back in some brush.” The business-like automatic was instantly in Bradshaw’s hand and he whirled on Caldwell.

“You quit shooting off your mouth,” he ordered in fine style. “How did you chaps discover this bunch?” in a lower tone of voice. He began the search of Caldwell, and as the three stood they could see on all sides of them in case the outlaws decided to take a hand.

“We were looking for you,” Bob answered while the man went through his breast pockets. “Saw a ravine back there with a lot of men in it. Looked queer so we came to give you the message, then as soon as we spotted you, we saw the bunch, four of them, closing in, so we did our little stuff with Her Highness. Now don’t go taking anything that doesn’t belong to you,” he ended with a savage roar as Bradshaw drew a notebook out of his pocket.