From the moment that Ted Mackay had been shot by the thief who stole Kitty Clavering's necklace, everything had gone wrong for him. Not only had he been wounded and forced to lose time from work, but the new plane, which was worth thousands of dollars to his company, had been stolen. And, in view of the fact that the robber was not a licensed pilot, it was very unlikely that the plane would stand the test, even if it were ever recovered.

Then, added to his other troubles, Ted had been accused of being in league with the thief! Ralph Clavering believed he was guilty, and so did Mr. Carlton. But what worried him most was whether Linda thought so too.

The little nurse at the hospital had been a great comfort, believing in Ted as she did, implicitly, from the first. But when he had gone home, he said nothing to his mother of the suspicions aroused against him. The good woman had enough to worry about, with the unhappy life she led, and the constant menace of his father's returning in trouble or in need of money. But Ted's conscience was clear; all the detective's in the world could not make him a criminal when he knew that he was innocent.

He wasn't surprised, however, when two men arrived at his home the day after he had reached it. Two plainclothes men, with warrants for his arrest.

His first anxiety was of course for his mother. If she should believe that he was following in his father's footsteps! Why, at her age, and after all she had been through, the shock might kill her! Her one comfort in life had always been that her three children were fine, honest citizens, that her teaching and training had been rewarded.

Fortunately when the detectives arrived, she was out in the back yard, working in her little garden. But what could Ted do? To argue with these men would only arouse her attention, bring her hurrying to the front porch to see what was the matter. For she seemed to live in daily fear of trouble between her husband and the law.

"But you have no evidence to arrest me," Ted objected, quietly, in answer to the man's brusque statement.

"You are wrong there! We have evidence. The gasoline agent, who sold you gas for the plane. The description fits you perfectly—a great big fellow, with red hair. Besides, you were caught in the very place where the other thief escaped."

"But I had nothing to do with it! I can prove it!"

"How?"

"By other men in the company——"

"Are they here?" interrupted the detective, with a hard, sneering look.

"No—but——"

"Then you will come with us until such time as you prove your innocence. One of us will go inside with you while you get whatever things you want."

Ted looked about him helplessly. Oh, how could he keep the news from his mother? It would break her heart!

And his career! What would this sort of thing do to that? Did it mean that, just as he was hoping to make his mark in the world, and rendering valuable assistance to his family, all must stop? With a gesture of utter despair he gazed up into the skies, where he heard the noise of an airplane, coming nearer and lower.

For a moment the other men forgot their duties, and likewise looked up into the air. For the plane was certainly flying very low indeed, actually circling over their heads. And its roar was insistent; it would not be ignored.

At last it became plain to Ted that the pilot wanted to land. So the young man held up his arm and pointed to field on the right of his house.

Wondering what its business could be, and interested in the plane as everybody is, although it is a common sight, the detectives waited to find out what would happen.

What they actually saw was certainly worth looking at. The pilot was an experienced flyer, and his landing, in the small area of this field, was as neat as anything they had ever witnessed. Both men watched with admiration and awe.

When the motor had been turned off, and the pilot stepped from the plane, Ted recognized him instantly. Sam Hunter—the best salesman, the most experienced flyer of their company!

"Sam!" he exclaimed with genuine pleasure, for although Ted had been with his firm only a short time, this man was an old friend.

"Ted! Old boy! How are you?" cried the other, clasping his hand in a hearty handshake. "How's the shoulder?"

"Pretty good," replied Ted. "I'm ready to go back to work, if I take it a little easy. But—" he paused and glanced at the two men beside him—"these fellows don't want to let me."

"Doctors?" inquired Sam, though Ted's manner of referring to them seemed queer—almost rude. He hadn't introduced them—a courtesy due them if they were doctors, or men in any way worthy of respect.

"They're detectives," explained Ted. "Sorry I can't introduce you, Sam, but they did not favor me with their names. They've come here with a warrant for my arrest."

"By heck!" ejaculated Sam. "Then the little lady was right! The pretty aviatrix who was so worried about you! And I'm just in time!"

"I don't know what you mean."

Sam put his hand into his pocket, and produced the paper which Mr. Jordan had dictated and three of the men had signed. He handed it to the detectives, both of whom read it at once.

"All right," said one of them, briefly, as he handed it back to Sam. "Good-by."

Without another word they turned and fled to their automobile and immediately drove away.

Ted stood gazing at Sam in amazement, unable to understand what his friend had done, how he had been able to accomplish what seemed like a miracle. In a few words the latter told him of Linda's visit, and her insistence upon the written alibi.

He finished his explanation and Ted had just time to warn Sam not to mention the matter to his mother, when the latter appeared, dressed in a clean linen, beaming at both the boys.

"Are you willing to have me take Ted back again?" asked Sam, after he had been introduced. "Because we need him, if he's well enough to go."

"I'll be sorry to lose him, of course," she answered with a motherly smile. "But I always want Ted to do his duty. And I think he'll be all right if he is careful. But first let me give you an early supper, so that you can do most of your flying by daylight."

Sam accepted the invitation with pleasure, and as the boys sat down at five o'clock to that splendid home-cooked meal, it seemed to Ted that he was perfectly happy again. He knew now that his company believed in his innocence; best of all, he had the reassurance that Linda Carlton shared that opinion!

It was good to be in a plane again, he thought, as they took off, half an hour later. Good to be up in the skies, with Sam—who was a friend indeed!

The whole trip was pleasant, and Mr. Jordan's greeting was just as cordial as Sam's. When the former heard what a life-saver his message had been, he was more impressed than ever with the cleverness of the two girls who had visited him.

"And if you'd like to see them and thank them yourself," he continued, "I'll arrange for you to combine it with a visit to our Denver field. The girls are out there in Colorado, they said—'Sunny Hills', I believe the name of the village is."

"Thank you, sir!" cried Ted, in delight and gratitude. "I don't deserve that—after letting that other plane get away from me!"

"Not your fault a bit!" protested the older man. "We've got insurance. Still—if you could happen to sell one on your trip, it would be a big help to us."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Jordan. Now—when do I start?"

"Tomorrow morning. At dawn, if you like."

So it happened that when Linda and Louise were taking off for their trip to Texas, that was halted so sadly, Ted Mackay, at the very same hour, was flying to Denver.

He reached his destination without mishap, and went back to Sunny Hills that night. He had some difficulty in finding the place, stopping as the girls had, at the airport to inquire, and reaching the Stillman estate about ten o'clock that night.

Thinking naturally that the airplane was Linda's, and that the girls were back again for some reason, Roger and his brothers went out to welcome them.

Ted explained quickly that he was a friend of Miss Carlton—it was the first time he had ever made such a statement, and there was pride in his tone—and that, as he had just been to Denver, he wanted to stop over here and see her for a few minutes.

"Shucks! That's too bad!" exclaimed Roger with regret. "Miss Carlton left this morning for her father's ranch in Texas."

Ted's smile faded; the ranch was the one place where he could not visit Linda.

"But you must come in and make yourself at home. Stay all night—you won't want to fly any more tonight. Why!" he cried, noticing Ted's bandage, "you've been hurt!"

"Last week," replied the other. "It's almost well now. But—really, Mr. Stillman, though I thank you, I have no right to impose on your hospitality!"

"It's a pleasure, I'm sure. Besides, I want to look at your plane by daylight. I'm in the market for a new airplane. My old one's being repaired now, but it's so hopelessly out of date I thought I'd try to trade it in."

Instantly Ted became the business man, the salesman, and while he accepted Roger's invitation to put his plane into the other's hangar, he told of all its merits.

So interested were they that they talked for an hour before they went into the house. Then Roger was all apologies, for he knew Ted had had no supper.

He hunted his mother, who was sitting disconsolately at the telephone.

"I'm worried about the girls," she told them. "They didn't phone from the ranch, as they promised, and I have just finished calling it, by long distance. They haven't arrived."

"But they had plenty of time!" insisted Roger. "They started at seven o'clock this morning!"

"Something must have happened," said Mrs. Stillman, anxiously. "Airplanes are so dangerous!"

"I think I know why—if anything did happen," explained Roger, slowly. "It isn't airplanes that are so dangerous as inexperienced pilots. I found out that Dan had Linda's plane out last night, alone."

"Dan?" Mrs. Stillman was horrified. "But he never flew alone in his life!"

"No, because I saw to it that he didn't. But he admitted that he borrowed the Arrow last night."

"This is serious," put in Ted. "We ought to do something—right away!"

"What can we do? I made the girls a map, but they may be off their course. I have no plane—and your time's not your own, Mr. Mackay."

"But I'll have to do something!" cried Ted, excitedly. "Even if I lose my job on account of it! It may be a question of life or death!"

"I'll tell you what I'll do," decided Roger. "I'll buy that plane of yours. I want it anyhow. And tomorrow morning at dawn we'll go on a search.... Now, mother, can you give Mr. Mackay something to eat—and a room?"

Gratefully the young man accepted the hospitable offers of his new friends and, pleased with the sale he had put through, he fell instantly asleep, not to awaken until Roger both knocked at his door and threw pillows at him the next morning.

He dressed and they left in short order, after a hearty breakfast, however, and armed with a lunch perhaps not so dainty as that provided for the girls, but at least as satisfying. Roger reconstructed the map, like the one he had made for Linda, and they flew straight for the nearest airport.

Unfortunately, however, they got no information there, no news of a wreck, or of two girls flying in a biplane. But their time was not wasted, for they took the opportunity to question one of the flyers who seemed familiar with the territory around him. They asked particularly about the more lonely, desolate parts of the near-by country, where an airplane accident would not quickly be discovered.

"There's a stretch about ten miles south of here," the man informed them, indicating a spot on Roger's rough map. "Not a farm or a village, as far as I know, except one old shack where a German lives. He hid there during the War, because he didn't want to be sent home, and he has continued to live on there ever since. He has a sort of garden, I believe—just enough to keep him alive—with the fish he catches. And a few apple trees. Once in a while he drives in here with his apples. I could tell you pretty near where he lives, because I was stranded there once myself. You could drop down and ask him if he heard any planes."

Eagerly the two young men marked the spot and set off once more in their plane, flying in the direction indicated. Before nine o'clock they came to the shack, which was the building that Linda and Louise had spied at a distance. They found the man frying fish on a fire in front of his tumble-down house.

Their landing had been of sufficient distance to avoid frightening him, but near enough for him to hear them. They hurried towards him, Roger almost shouting the question about the girls, before he actually reached him.

But, like Linda and Louise, when they tried to talk to this man, Roger received a shrug of his shoulders in reply, and a muttered, "Nicht versteh."

Unlike the girls, however, Roger commanded a good knowledge of German, and he translated the question with ease into the foreign language.

To both flyers' unbounded delight, they were rewarded with the information that they so longed to hear. The girls were safe—and not far away!