Harvey Hamilton was anything but pleased over the actions of Detective Pendar in dashing off as he did without a word of explanation. He expected to accompany him, and would have followed but through fear of offending his friend. The youth could not forget that he possessed nothing in the nature of a weapon and was more likely to prove a hindrance rather than a help to the officer.

“He is a brave man,—a reckless one,” he reflected, “thus to rush upon a desperate gang who are armed and will stop at no crime. Hello! what does that mean?”

He had stepped down from his seat and glanced over his machine, when chancing to look up in the sky he recognized the monoplane of Professor Morgan, already near the spot where the young aviator had seen the ruined shanty not long before, with the little girl playing in front of it.

The discovery that the odd character had not wrecked his first machine, but had been the means of his securing a second with remarkable promptness, changed the resentment of the youth to the kindliest feelings toward the man. He watched the actions with fascinated interest, for the distance was so slight that everything was visible. It has been said that one of the achievements of Professor Morgan was the knack of running his monoplane with scarcely any perceptible noise. A misty, whirring object under his perch showed that the “uplifter” was doing its effective work and holding the machine motionless over the place desired.

It was far enough for the intervening forest to muffle the voices of the airman and the detective, who tried desperately to prevent his dropping the bomb which wrought such frightful havoc. In the flurry of the occasion, Harvey had not recovered his field glass from his friend, an oversight which he regretted, for it would have helped greatly in learning precisely what the Professor was doing. But his unaided eyes told him enough to suggest a shrewd guess.

“He is going to launch a bomb, and if he does, it won’t be a giant cracker, which gave those young men such a big scare the other day.”

A minute later came the tremendous report, and Harvey felt the ground tremble. A mass of smoke and flying fragments rose over the spot where the shanty had stood.

“He has blown up the building and every one in it!” gasped the startled youth. “I wonder whether the child has been hurt; Pendar can take care of himself.”

Harvey hesitated whether to run to the spot, and had made up his mind to do so, when he was checked by an incident that in its way was as startling as the explosion.

It will be remembered that he had brought his aeroplane to rest in the large clearing in front of the humble home of Uncle Tommy Waters, the weather prophet. Had the circumstances been different, he would have given attention to the house and its occupants, but the thrilling incidents in course of happening elsewhere kept his eyes turned in the opposite direction, and the cabin might as well have been a hundred miles distant for all he knew of it for the time.

That which caught his attention with the suddenness of a snap of a whip in his ear and caused him to whirl the other way was a childish voice:

“Oh, isn’t that a funny thing?”

Harvey Hamilton was struck speechless for a moment by the sight that greeted his eyes. Two little girls, one freckled, homely, and poorly dressed, the other pretty, with clustering curls and in fine clothes, stood side by side, no more than a dozen paces distant, staring wonderingly at him and the aeroplane. The third member of the group was an immense shaggy dog as black as midnight, which stood wagging his tail as if pleased with what he saw. In the door of the cabin behind them was the pudgy wife of Uncle Tommy, also staring and seemingly at a loss to comprehend the strange doings and sights. Uncle Tommy was not visible, having gone to Chesterton earlier in the day, with the time of his return uncertain.

Harvey beckoned the children to draw near. With some timidity they did so, the dog following as if to see that no harm befell either. The two halted a few steps away and smiled, the homely one with her forefinger between her lips and her head to one side. Her companion showed no embarrassment.

“Your name is Grace Hastings, isn’t it?” asked the young aviator, in a kindly voice and with a rapidly beating heart.

“Yes,—what’s your name?” she asked with winsome confidence.

“Harvey Hamilton; wouldn’t you like to go home to mamma?”

“Oh, yes indeed; won’t you——”

She suddenly broke down and sobbed.

“There, my dear; you mustn’t cry, for we are going to take you home just as soon as we can; your papa and mamma want to see you badly and they shall not be kept waiting; won’t you come closer?”

“May Peggy come too?” she asked with a smile, though the tears still wetted her plump cheeks.

“Certainly, for I know Peggy is a good girl.”

“Yes, she is, and we love each other, don’t we, Peggy?”

Grace looked at her companion for reply, and she nodded her head six or seven times but did not speak. The two advanced and Harvey took each by the hand.

“How long have you and Peggy known each other?” asked Harvey of Grace.

“This is the first time the bad folks would let me go to see her,” was the reply.

The youth read the full meaning of these words. The kidnappers had kept the little one a close prisoner from the first. For the sake of her health, they probably allowed her to play at times near the shanty, as she was doing when he first saw her, but as the time of her captivity, as they viewed it, was shortened to a few hours, they yielded to her wish to walk the little way through the woods to her neighbor. She would be within quick reach, and besides, had promised to come back after a brief absence. What she might reveal while playing with Peggy Waters could not bring any risk of her loss to her captors. These facts, which became known afterward, showed that the flight of Harvey Hamilton’s aeroplane on its first sweep over the ramshackle structure had not roused any distrust on the part of the two abductors there, who kept out of sight while the biplane was near.

The young man was stirred by the sight of the child standing before him, and chattering in her innocent way. Despite what had just occurred and the certainty that Professor Morgan had played havoc with the miscreants, the youth was uneasy. Some of the gang might have escaped and started upon other mischief. Grace was too much exposed to their evil intentions.

“Let us go into the house,” said Harvey, taking each child by the hand and walking toward the dumpy woman who still filled the door of the cabin, staring as if she failed to understand what had taken place.

“Good morning,” saluted Harvey; “if you don’t mind we will go inside and sit down for a little while.”

“I’m sure you’re welcome,” replied the housewife, stepping back to give room. “It seems to me there’s been queer goings on around here. What made that awful noise I heerd a little while ago?”

“A friend of mine blew up the shanty where several villains were holding this little girl a prisoner.”

“La sakes! You don’t say so; did you ever hear of sich carryings on?”

She stood with her arms akimbo and stared at her caller, who had seated himself near the open door, where he could see his aeroplane and whatever might appear in the clearing. Grace and Peggy sat farther back, whispering and chuckling together, as new acquaintances do who have no idea of the fearful meaning of what is going on around them.

“Where is Uncle Tommy?” asked Harvey of the wife.

“He went to town two hours ago. You know,” she added with natural pride, “that all the folks depends on him to know what kind of weather we’re going to have, and he’s gone to Chesterton to tell ’em.”

“I have heard of his reputation as a weather prophet.”

At this juncture, Grace rose abruptly from her chair and asked Harvey:

“How long have I been here?”

“Not knowing when you came I can’t tell exactly, Grace, but I am sure it is only a short time.”

“I promised Alessandro I wouldn’t stay long and I must be going.”

“Wait a little while; he won’t care—.”

“There he comes for me now! He will be angry and beat me,” she exclaimed, standing beside her young friend and looking out of the door in a tremor of alarm.

Sure enough, the miscreant had come into plain sight. He was walking with bowed head and his hands behind him, as if the wrists were fastened together, and only one or two paces to the rear strode Detective Simmons Pendar, with a revolver ready for instant use. The picture told its own story.

“Stay where you are,” said Harvey, laying a gentle hand on the shoulder of Grace Hastings; “Alessandro sha’n’t hurt you.”

With this assurance, the youth went down the few steps and advanced to meet his friend.

“I don’t admire his looks,” he remarked with a smile as he glanced at the swarthy, scowling face.

“He’s as ugly as he looks,” replied the detective.

“Is he the only one?”

“Professor Morgan’s bomb sent one flying among the trees, where he will stay until carried away. And that is Grace Hastings?” said the officer, with a radiant face, as he looked at the winsome countenance in the doorway.

“She told me that that is her name, and I think she ought to know; but what do you mean to do with this fellow?”

“I have been thinking. You know there were three of them; I exchanged shots with Catozzi when we were starting with your aeroplane. I am anxious to capture him, but he was left at Chesterton, where he will probably wait till he receives more news.”

“You can march this one ahead of you to the town and have him locked up.”

The face of the detective became grave. He shook his head.

“I am afraid that if I do that, and the truth becomes known, as it surely will be, the people will lynch him.”

“Who cares if they do?” asked Harvey; “it will serve him right.”

“He and the others deserve it, but the law should deal with them. I have a better plan.”