  The very cause of Mike O’Malley’s delay in arriving at the empty house on Monday evening proved to be the thing that saved the three girls in the tower. It was the huge ladder on the telephone repair truck. When Mike left the girls on Sunday with his promise to help them, he drove straight back to Milwaukee to give the story of the treasure hunt to his newspaper. At the same time he asked for Monday afternoon off, in order to follow the “Linda Carlton Mystery,” as he called the accident to Helen Tower. When this leave was granted he sat down in his boarding-house bedroom to contemplate what he had better take with him. “There’s something in that tower that mystifies Miss Linda,” he said to himself. “And she seems to think it is closed off from the rest of the house. I wonder how we could get in.” He had all sorts of ideas—of going up in the autogiro and coming down in a parachute, of jumping from the “Ladybug” to the window—but, of course, these things wouldn’t do, because most likely the windows would be closed and locked. No; a ladder was the only solution; but how could he carry a ladder on his little Ford? It was one of his brothers who solved the problem for him. As he had told Miss Carlton on the occasion of his first visit to the bungalow at Green Falls, Mike O’Malley was one of a large family. Two of his brothers had left the farm for jobs in Milwaukee, and one of these was with the telephone company. Pat—for that was his name—would be the very person to help! It was easily arranged, the only difficulty being that his brother could not leave until four o’clock. However, the boys planned to meet outside of the city, thereby avoiding the worst of the traffic, and they made good speed along the country road. A little before eight, supperless but happy, they drove up to the empty house. “We’re too late!” shouted Pat, leaning out of his truck. “She’s on fire!” Mike had been pretty sure of this fact several minutes earlier, when he had noticed some smoke in the sky, but he had said nothing. They must go on, he had decided, for Linda and Dot might be trapped inside. “We better get out of here,” called Pat, above the noise of the two engines. “Don’t forget we’ve got gas, and both our cars may explode.” “Pull over there in the field,” directed Mike, briefly. “I’ve got to make sure that the girls are safe.” And then they heard the cries, the wild terrified screams of those three girls trapped in the tower of the burning house. There wasn’t a moment to be lost. Pat took down his extension ladder, and directed Mike how to help him get it up. They worked as fast as they could, but the task appeared to be endless to the tortured girls, watching them in breathless silence from the high windows. It seemed to them as if the ladder would never reach to their height. “Wish I was a real fireman,” was the only remark which Mike made during the whole tense proceeding. The flames were reaching the roof of the house now, and smoke was streaming from the tower windows. Forcing his hands not to shake, Mike held the ladder while Pat pulled it to its full height. There was one terrible moment, while they all waited to see whether it would reach to the edge of the window— It did! The boys let out a cry of, “Ready now! Come down, girls!” and held tightly—and prayed. Dot leaned out of the window to make sure that the ladder was firmly gripping the ledge, and to Mike’s surprise, neither she nor Linda climbed out, but little Helen instead. Holding on to Dot’s hand, the young girl stepped over, and made her perilous way down the ladder, to the ground. There was a slight delay, while more smoke poured from the windows. Evidently Dot and Linda were arguing about who should come next, but Dot had to give in, for she knew it was of no use to try to withstand Linda. So she climbed over the ledge and started downward, only to see the window ledge itself catch fire when she was halfway down! If Linda had been wearing a dress instead of knickers, there would have been little hope for her now. But as it was she managed to straddle the flame and to step on the ladder, just as it, too, caught fire at the top. It swayed for one dreadful second, but the boys held tightly, and pushed it farther against the wall. No one ever came down a ladder faster than Linda Carlton at that moment; it seemed as if her feet scarcely touched the rungs. When she was finally only six feet above the ground she jumped. It was none too soon; the ladder gave way, and the young people all ran to safety. “Mike!” cried Linda joyously grasping his hands in an ecstasy of relief: “You’re a wonder! How did you ever know to bring a ladder?” The young man was too excited to talk. He couldn’t say a word. “We must get these cars out of the way,” ordered Pat, who had not even been introduced. “Let’s all meet down by the road.” “O.K.,” agreed Mike, signaling to Helen to get into his Ford. “My ‘Ladybug!’” exclaimed Linda abruptly. She had all but forgotten it. Suppose it were burned! “Want any help?” asked Mike, as Pat started to drive his truck down to the road. “No, thanks. But take Dot and Helen with you. I’ll meet you there—I hope!” Running as fast as she could, keeping her face turned from the intense heat of the fire, she passed the barn and saw that it too was beginning to burn. Oh, if the “Ladybug” were only safe! Next to their lives she valued her trusted autogiro. Insurance would mean little to her; it was this particular plane that she loved, almost as if it were a horse or a dog. But, miraculously, it was all right, though she realized that she was just in time, for now that the barn was burning, a spark might fly any moment that would set it into flames. Never before had she been so quick in starting its engine. Thank goodness it was in perfect condition, after her work of the morning! As soon as she had left the ground she circled down to the road, and saw the lights of the truck and the Ford, for it was almost dark now. Selecting a field opposite, she landed her autogiro again and ran across to join the group around the cars. All the young people had by this time regained their spirits and were talking excitedly and happily, asking each other questions, hardly waiting for explanations, and all shouting at once. Though Pat O’Malley had been a stranger to the girls fifteen minutes before, he now seemed like one of their best friends. “If we only had something to eat!” sighed Mike, “my joy would be complete.” “Didn’t you boys have any supper?” demanded Dot. It was quite dark now, it must be after eight o’clock, she thought. “No. Did you?” “No.” “Did you, Helen?” inquired Mike, who still had only a hazy idea how the young girl had happened to be there. “No. And I only had dried lima beans for lunch.” “The nearest village is about five miles,” volunteered Pat. “I’ve worked along this road before. Shall we all pile into my truck and hunt it?” “I couldn’t leave my autogiro—” began Linda, when Dot interrupted with a suggestion. She had just remembered the food she had brought from the inn at Lake Winnebago. “Wait!” she cried, joyfully. “I’ve got chicken sandwiches and peaches in the plane! Does that sound good?” “Does it sound good!” repeated Mike. “Oh, boy!” Linda and the two young men ran over to the field immediately, and returned in a few minutes, their arms piled with boxes and the thermos bottles of water which Linda always carried in the “Ladybug.” Going over to the bank beside the road, they all sat down while Dot untied the bundles. “I’ll have to count the sandwiches and divide them evenly,” she said, laughingly. “Just as if we were all starving Armenians.” “I think Helen should get the most,” suggested Mike. “She really has almost starved.” “Oh, this is great!” exclaimed Dot, as she examined the boxes. “There are ten sandwiches—and six peaches—and—and——” “And what?” demanded Pat, hungrily. “And two apple pies!” Both boys let out a whistle, and Helen clapped her hands. “But how did you two girls ever expect to eat all that for your supper?” asked Pat. Dot giggled. “I told the cook to put in a lot,” she replied, “because when Linda and I go off on trips we never know how long we’ll be stranded.” “But there aren’t any desert islands around here,” remarked Mike, who had heard the story of the girls’ adventures in the Okefenokee Swamp. “No, but you never can tell,” returned Dot. “Now—fall to! Here are two sandwiches and a peach for each one of you, and Helen gets the extra peach.” They ate silently for several minutes, everybody too hungry to talk. Suddenly Helen stopped in the act of breaking her second peach in two, and cried in dismay, “Dot! We forgot the will!” “What will?” demanded Mike. Linda explained briefly, while Dot reached down into her blouse. Even in the darkness they could all see the yellowed packet which she triumphantly held up to their view. “I wasn’t going to let that get away!” she announced, proudly. She handed it to Mike who, with the aid of his flashlight, examined it with the greatest satisfaction. “That’s bully, Helen!” he cried, when he had seen enough of it to make sure that it was legal. “And don’t let the Fish get any of the money!” “You’re not planning to go back to her, are you?” asked Linda. She was thinking of the law suit, and wondering how Mrs. Fishberry could sue her if Helen denied ever having known her. “I certainly am not!” replied the girl, emphatically. Dot proceeded to cut the pies, which they ate perhaps less ravenously, but at least with as great enjoyment as the sandwiches, while they discussed what they would do next. “I’ve got to get back to Milwaukee to-night,” announced Pat, as he began to collect the sandwich papers into a pile. “So do I,” agreed Mike. “Anybody want to come with me?” “No, thank you,” replied Linda, rising from the ground. “I’ll take both the girls back to Green Falls with me in the ‘Ladybug.’” “You aren’t afraid to fly at night?” inquired Pat. “Mercy no! The only thing I’m worried about is Aunt Emily. She expected us for supper.” “Perhaps she didn’t get there herself,” suggested Mike. “They had a motor trip and a boat trip both you know.” “But Mr. Clavering’s cars and boats are always reliable,” returned Linda. “Oh, well, so long as we arrive before midnight, I don’t suppose that she’ll be terribly worried.” “We’ll wait here till we see you safely up in the air,” concluded Mike. “Then Pat and I will be going.” “Wait a minute!” exclaimed his brother, who had just finished his task of picking up the papers. “Look what I’ve found over here in the bushes!” To the amazement of everyone, he held up a gray wig and beard, and a linen coat to their view. “What are they?” demanded Linda, as Pat turned the flashlight upon his discovery. “Looks like a Hallowe’en suit,” volunteered Mike. “But what is it doing here?” “Helen,” asked Dot, turning to the young girl, “can you remember having any masquerade parties at your house?” “We never had any parties,” she replied. “We were too poor. On my birthdays Nana—I mean Mrs. Smalley—would make cookies, and she and I and my doll would play it was a party. That was all.” Linda was silent. There had been something familiar about the beard in particular, for it was bigger and longer than most real ones. Now she remembered what it reminded her of. “Remember that old man who knocked Helen down, Dot?” she inquired. A smile broke over Dot’s face. “Of course! A disguise! I never could understand why a man apparently so aged would be driving at that reckless rate of speed. He wasn’t old at all, I guess!” “By George, that’s the answer!” cried Mike, positively elated by the discovery. “Now all we’ve got to do is to catch the man. Helen, have you any idea who he could be?” “I’m afraid,” answered the girl reluctantly, “that he’s my uncle. And if he is, you won’t catch him. He’s wicked—and clever.” “Anyhow, we’ll try,” Mike assured her. “Shall I take charge of this stuff, while I see what can be done?” Helen nodded, and he walked with the girls over the field to the “Ladybug,” and stood watching Linda take off into the sky. Fascinated, he continued to gaze at the autogiro until its light was all that he could see—a little spark of flame in the heavens—and then he turned about and joined his brother across the road. |
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