The revolution of the propeller of course started the engine, with such a terrific outburst of noise that Bill instinctively drew back a pace or two. In an instant the blades were spinning round with tremendous velocity, and the aeroplane began moving over the ground with fast increasing speed.

The sight roused Bill, who dashed forward to intercept it. He had almost reached the machine when it bounded upward and glided beyond his grasp. The delighted Harvey tossed the gun toward him, and in a rage at his slip Bill snatched the weapon from the ground and shouted:

“Stop or I’ll shoot!”

His action and movement of the lips told the young aviator the substance of the threat, and with a tantalizing gesture he called back:

“Shoot and be hanged!”

Bill was in a savage mood and brought the gun to his shoulder. He aimed carefully, and with the brief distance between the two could hardly have missed had the weapon been in order; but we recall that the hammers were broken, to say nothing of the lack of a full charge in the barrels. Either would have been sufficient to save the fleeing aviator, who having set the machine going, looked round to watch his enemy.

He saw him suddenly lower the gun and then fling it angrily to the ground. No doubt his chagrin was intensified by the remembrance of the chance he had let pass when the youth was really at his mercy. He shook his fist at Harvey, who was now a hundred feet above the ground and going at moderate speed.

In that hurried scrutiny, however, the aviator made a disquieting discovery. Two of the remaining young men were invisible. Doubtless they had dived into the wood in pursuit of the panic-stricken Bohunkus, who of necessity was left in a most dangerous situation. Harvey had been compelled to desert him for the time, though he was the last person in the world to abandon a friend in trouble. How to save him from the vengeance of the baffled party was a serious question.

“If there were only one chasing him,” thought Harvey, “I shouldn’t care a fig, for Bunk has already proved himself his master, but he will be helpless against four or even two, and it looks as if he will have three at least to fight.”

The problem was a puzzling one. The flight of the colored lad was so sudden that he and Harvey had not been able to exchange a word. A few sentences would have effected an understanding. His friend would have told him to make his way to the nearest town and there wait until he could hunt him out and take him aboard again. Moreover, among Bunk’s accomplishments was a remarkable fleetness of foot. He could have continued his flight through the wood into the open country and gained enough advantage to offer Harvey the opportunity of picking him up before his enemies interfered.

But it was useless to speculate, since all this was out of the question. Having ascended some three hundred feet, Harvey began slowly circling around, with just enough speed to hold the elevation. He returned so as to hover directly over the head of Bill, who still stood alone on the edge of the wood closely watching him. Thus the situation remained for several minutes, during which Harvey Hamilton met with one of the narrowest escapes of his life.

Feeling that in one respect the countrymen were the masters, he decided to express to Bill, who was evidently the leader of the quartet his willingness to apologize, pay for the injured gun, and leave a liberal tip for Herb, the only one who had suffered during the singular meeting; and then descend, take Bunk aboard and bid good-bye to the inhospitable country.

The objection to the plan was the probability of treachery on the part of Bill and his companions. All had shown an ugly disposition and so much resentment that it was more than likely they would break the agreement, and at least destroy the aeroplane so utterly as to place it beyond repair.

It was this misgiving that caused Harvey to hesitate. He circled several times—always to the left—gradually descending, and kept watch of the solitary figure below him. Finally, having made his decision, he leaned over the side of the aeroplane and shouted as he slowed down the motor:

“Say, Bill, what’s the use of our quarreling?”

Bill did not attempt to answer the conundrum.

“If I do the fair thing, will you call it off?”

“What do you mean by the fair thing?” demanded the surly young man.

“I broke that gun and will pay you for it; I’ll give you ten dollars to hand to Herb, though I don’t see why he should get anything.”

Bill was silent a minute, as if turning the proposition over in his mind. Finally he glared upward and uttered the one query:

“Wal?”

“When I have done that, I shall take my colored friend aboard and have the honor of bidding you good day until we meet again.”

This was a clear proposal and could not fail to impress Bill favorably, no matter whether he meant to “tote fair” or not. Bill didn’t seem able to think of any objection or to suggest an amendment.

“All right,” he shouted back; “I’ll do it.”

Harvey meant there should be no room for a misunderstanding.

“I am to come down to the ground, hand you ten dollars as a salve—”

“I guess Herb will need some salve for that face of his,” grimly interjected Bill.

“And another ten dollars to pay for the damages to the gun. That will make everything right between us and none of you will interfere further.”

“I’m agreeable; hurry down.”

It was at this juncture that Harvey Hamilton received warning of a frightful peril that in another moment would have caught him inextricably. He had started to volplane to the ground, when an impulse caused him to turn his head sufficiently to glance at the man with whom he had just made his agreement. In that passing glimpse, Harvey saw a hand reach from behind the trunk of a large oak at the back of Bill and exchange guns with him.

It was done in a twinkling, only the arm holding the weapon and the corner of the fellow’s face showing for an instant, during which he placed in the grasp of Bill a loaded piece and relieved him of the useless one.

There could be no mistake as to the meaning of the sinister action: Bill intended to play false. He would secure the money promised, and quite likely rob Harvey of all that remained, would wreck the aeroplane and shamefully maltreat both youths. But for this discovery, Harvey would have walked into the lion’s den the next moment, but with that coolness which was one of his most striking traits, he began edging away and upward, as if it were a part of his plan of manipulating the descent. If Bill chose to use his gun, he was near enough to make only a single shot necessary, and Harvey’s object was to get beyond range, before revealing his purpose.

“What are you doing?” called Bill, handling his weapon threateningly.

“I want to make sure the machinery is working right; it will take only a minute.”

Bill was partly satisfied, but had no excuse for objecting.

The circling grew wider, until the right height was attained, when Harvey headed toward the dim range of mountains in the distance, with a speed of at least fifty miles an hour. Only a few seconds were needed to place him far beyond range. Checking his motor for an instant so as to permit his voice to be heard, he called to Bill:

“I don’t like the looks of that new gun in your hand; don’t expect me before to-morrow or some day next week.”

In his impotent rage, Bill brought his weapon to his shoulder, took quick aim and discharged both barrels. It was a foolish thing to do, for not one of the shots carried to the aeroplane, all being dissipated long before they could reach it.

Clever as had been the strategy of Harvey, the grave problem remained as to how he was to extricate Bohunkus Johnson from his dangerous situation. Disappointed in capturing the aviator and his machine, the party were quite sure to turn their rage against the colored youth, unless by his superior fleetness he could elude the whole party.

Harvey’s altitude gave him a clear view of the patch of woods, which was perhaps a third of a mile in width and double that length. It was the season of the year when the foliage was at its full, and if Bunk gained a fair start he ought to have no trouble in hiding himself from his enemies; but how were he and his friend to come together again?

“It is as hard to decide as it is to figure out why that man behind the oak with his loaded gun did not keep hidden till I came within reach, and then open on me without giving away his scheme as he did; that would have cooked my goose, though they may have felt doubt of getting hands on the machine if they fired before it touched ground.”

Without climbing higher, Harvey circled about the woods, scanning the green depths below for some signal from his comrade. Bill and his companion had passed from sight, so that the five were somewhere in the depths of the forest. The aviator glided along the sky over the tree tops without catching a glimpse of anything to give hope. Then he passed a little way beyond the western end and circled about again. He saw a farm house a mile distant, and unless hope presented itself in some form very soon, he determined to go thither in quest of help against the lawless young men.

What was that which suddenly caught his roving eye? On the margin of the wood something flitted for a moment like a bird hopping from one branch to another. He would have believed it was such, had it not been so near the ground. Whisking his binoculars from his shoulder, he scanned the object. His heart thrilled when he recognized a cap swung by a person standing behind the trunk of a large tree.

“It’s Bunk!” exclaimed the delighted youth; “his foes are so near that he daresn’t show himself.”

Harvey was quick to make up his mind. Shutting off power for a moment he called in his clear, ringing voice:

“Wait where you are, Bunk! I’ll be back in a minute or two; don’t leave till I give the word and then come a-running.”

The cap was waved again and Harvey fancied he saw the corner of the negro’s countenance as he peered round the trunk.

The fear of the aviator was that the five men who were sure to be watching his movements, knowing he was trying to save his colored companion, would have their attention drawn to the spot over which the aeroplane was hovering. There was the danger that they had heard his call and would act on the hint, but the risk had to be taken.

Harvey next shifted to the opposite side of the wood, where he dallied back and forth for half an hour, as if trying to fix upon a good landing place. He knew he was under the eyes of the angered countrymen, but was certain he had drawn them to that side of the forest, where they were so far from Bohunkus that it would take considerable time for them to return to his neighborhood.

Suddenly the aeroplane darted off like a swallow, skimming over the trees, at the spot selected.

“Quick, Bunk! Don’t lose a second! Jump aboard!”

Out of the wood dashed a young man and ran straight for the machine at headlong speed, but he was not Bohunkus Johnson!