The cabin in the clearing being no longer in Harvey Hamilton’s field of vision, he gave his attention to the management of his aeroplane. In order to avoid so far as possible arousing suspicion, he made a sweeping bend to the northward, with a view of passing over the ridge and then returning to Chesterton from the east. By following this course, he would make it impossible for the tenants of the log cabin to see him, and thus render distrust on their part out of the question.

It was important that he should remain over night in Chesterton, in order to report to Detective Pendar and receive instructions from him. The youth was morbidly sensitive about offending the gentleman, or doing anything that could interfere with the success of the extraordinary enterprise in which he was engaged.

Harvey had changed the course of the machine and lifted the edge of his front rudder in order to make sure of clearing the top of the ridge, when Bohunkus touched him smartly with the toe of his shoe. The aviator turned his head to learn the cause, and the dusky youth with staring eyes pointed to the northwest, that is somewhat to the left of the course they were following. Looking in that direction, Harvey to his astonishment saw an aeroplane no more than a mile distant. With a minute or two at his disposal, he brought his binoculars into play.

The first glance told him an amazing fact.

“As sure as I’m alive, it’s the Dragon of the Skies! Professor Morgan is coming this way too! I’ll be neighborly and meet him.”

The vertical rudder at the rear was shifted, and the two machines the next moment were so headed that a collision threatened unless one changed its course.

Bohunkus kicked the shoulder of his friend again. His dark face revealed his terror.

“He’s gwine to smash dis locumotive! What’ll ’come ob us?”

Of course not a syllable of these words could be heard in the thunderous throbbing of the motor, but the expression of Bunk’s face and the vigorous contortions of his lips made his meaning clear. It occurred to Harvey that there might be cause for his companion’s alarm. There is no accounting for the whimsies of a crank, and, having destroyed one aeroplane, what more likely than that he should wreak his fury upon another, particularly when it was handled by the owner of the former?

Harvey’s first inclination was to shift his course again and run away from the Professor, but he reflected that if he did so, he would invite pursuit, and speedy as was the new machine it was certain the Dragon of the Skies was speedier. An inventor who was able to construct an “uplifter” that would hold his monoplane as stationary as a bird waiting for sight of the fish far below before making its dive, or could muffle his motor into noiselessness without lessening its power, was sure, beside doing all this, to acquire a speed that no rival could equal.

It was better to put a bold face on the situation, and paying no heed, therefore, to the gestures and mute shouts of his companion, Harvey headed for the monoplane, which approached with the speed and accuracy of an arrow.

Less than two hundred yards separated the two when Professor Morgan veered to the right, curving so far that his course shifted to a right angle of the other machine, toward which he turned broadside.

There sat the strange man in plain view, his feet on the cross-piece below, his hands resting on the upright levers, between which he sat bolt upright, with his linen duster buttoned from chin to ankles, his cap drawn low, while those blazing black eyes above his grizzled beard suggested an owl peering through a thicket and were turned full upon the two youths in the biplane.

Harvey waved his hand in salutation, but the Professor did not seem to see him or Bunk. He glided past, and when he had shot beyond a point opposite, turned his head so as to look directly in front. Harvey gave him no further notice, for he was now so near the ridge that all his skill was needed to direct his aeroplane.

Bohunkus was not yet free from his shivering fear, and kept his eye upon the dreaded Professor.

“I know what de willain am up to,” he reflected; “he’s only makin’ b’lieve dat he’s gwine to lebe us. He’ll snoke round behind and de fust thing we know will be when dat rudder out in front jams into us, slides under me, lifts me out ob dis seat and pitches me head fust down among dem treetops.”

But the form of the Dragon of the Skies grew smaller and fainter until the aching eyes of the negro could see it no longer. By that time the watcher concluded that nothing for the present was to be feared from the eccentric individual.

“But we hain’t done wid him yit,” said Bunk; “he’s got his eye on us, for if he hadn’t why am he hangin’ round de country, bobbin’ up when we ain’t lookin’ fur him? He’ll find out where we’re gwine to stay to-night and den he’ll get a new axe as big as de side ob a house and smash dis machine wuss dan de oder. De Perfesser am mighty sly and I doan’ like him; I wish he’d take a shine to some oder part ob de world.”

Having surmounted the ridge, Harvey sailed ten or more miles to the northward and descended at a town containing probably ten thousand population. There he renewed his supply of gasoline and oil, and halted for an hour or so, when he was prepared to return to Chesterton. While he and Bohunkus were seated apart from the others at the hotel, the colored youth gave voice to his dissatisfaction.

“What’s de use ob hangin’ round dis part ob de country, Harv? How many times do yo’ expect to go to Chesterton?”

“I have some business there to attend to. When that is finished, we can travel as far as you wish in any direction.”

“Why can’t we go to Afriky?” was the astounding question.

Harvey laughed.

“Why, Bunk, that is thousands of miles off. We should have to cross the Atlantic Ocean.”

“What’s to hender doing dat?”

“You know we have to renew our supply of gasoline and oil every few hours. Can you tell me how it is possible to do it when hundreds of miles from land? We spoke of this before.”

“Don’t de ships and steamboats carry de stuff?”

“If we could count upon meeting one of them when needed, we might get on, but when father and I crossed the ocean, we passed days at a time without seeing a sail.”

“Hang a boat on to de bottom of dis keer and paddle till we run agin a ship.”

“Drive that wild idea out of your head, Bunk. I don’t doubt that you and I shall live to see the day when aeroplanes will make regular trips between the continents, but we must wait till that time comes.”

“Doan’ yo’ spose Perfesser Morgan can doot?”

“He has made so many wonderful inventions, he may be the first to succeed. When he does, we shall hear of it.”

Bohunkus was silent for a minute or so. If his friend had imagined what wild freak had entered the lad’s brain, he would have made all haste to root it out, but unfortunately he did not dream of anything of the kind.

The next query of Bunk was more startling to Harvey than anything that had gone before.

“Harv, did yo’ see dat little girl?”

“What do you mean?” demanded the other sharply.

“When we was sailing ober dem woods, after we’d left Chesterton.”

“I saw no little girl; did you?”

“Sartinously; yo’ doan’ forgot dat cabin down among the trees where a small creek runs in front ob it.”

This was unquestionably the place in which Harvey had been so much interested. He had not observed a living person near it, while his dusky companion had seen the very person that was in many minds.

“I saw the old house and the smoke coming out of the chimney, but did not catch sight of a man, woman or child. Tell me how it was with you.”

“Nuffin ’ticular; we’d got a little way beyont and you wasn’t looking back when I took a notion to turn my head. Dere warn’t any man or woman in sight, but a little gal was standin’ in front ob de door, a wavin’ her handkerchief at me. I took off my cap and swinged it at her, but we was too fur off and de ingine made too much noise for us to hold a conwersation.”

“This is very interesting, Bunk.”

Remembering the instructions of Detective Pendar, Harvey gave no hint of why he felt so much concern over what had just been told him. The slow wits of Bohunkus were likely to cause trouble and probably defeat the delicate plans which the officer of the law had in mind. What the colored youth had told removed the last vestige of doubt from the young aviator as to the identity of the cabin of which he had caught a passing glimpse. He felt certain that the little girl whom Bohunkus saw and with whom he exchanged salutations was Grace Hastings, kidnapped weeks before, and for whose recovery her father was spending a fortune. Harvey knew the exact spot where she was a prisoner and could direct the detective unerringly to it. He was eager to do so, for his heart was enlisted in the sacred task.

In his desire to do something effective, Harvey was on the point of setting out again with his aeroplane and taking a course that would lead him over the cabin in the clearing. He wished to gain another view of it, and particularly of the child whose absence had plunged her parents in anguish more poignant than if they had looked upon her pale innocent face in death.

But the youth was impressed with the necessity of using the utmost care with every step he took. If he sailed over the cabin again, the fact was likely to be noticed by the men in the structure. If they had not already observed the aeroplane, they had learned of its flight from the chatter of the young captive, and should it return within a few hours would mean something out of the ordinary. It would cause a change of quarters at once and place the recovery of the child beyond attainment.

“There is only one safe thing for me to do,” was his decision; “I must take so roundabout course to Chesterton that no one in the cabin will know of it. I shall wait in the town till I can have a talk with Pendar. I have done all he asked of me and from this point forward, under heaven everything depends upon him.”