After a wakeful night in Harbor Grace the girls arose for an early start. It was scarcely dawn when Terry and Prim took off from the airport and headed toward the big rock from which point they could see The Crate. They had no doubt in their minds that Bud Hyslop was responsible for the disappearance of Allan and Syd. They must find Bud and make him talk.

No one had seen or heard of him at Harbor Grace. Where was he hiding? The girls decided to keep watch.

“He’s apt to come back to The Crate,” said Prim.

“I’m not so sure of that,” answered Terry. “If he has The Comet, he’s not particular what happens to the old plane. What I’d like to know is, what did he do with the boys?”

Terry kept the plane at high speed. Suddenly she looked around. “The fog, Prim. Look at that great mountain of fog behind us.”

“What will we do, Terry?” asked Prim.

“Nothing to do but run,” said Terry with a shrug. “We’ll put Skybird down on the plateau by the big rock.”

“Can’t we get back to Harbor Grace?” asked Prim anxiously.

But Terry was already circling for a landing and did not answer her sister. The little plane bumped over the rocky surface and then stood still. With the motor stopped, Terry turned to her sister.

“I had to come down, it’s not safe to fly in this fog! And as you see, there wasn’t a chance of getting back to the airport. It’s like a thick blanket in that direction.”

“And it’s closing in on us. There’s nothing to do but make the best of it here,” answered the easy-going Prim. “But we may freeze to death. This fog is like an icy wind, it goes clear through you.”

Terry walked up and down to get warm, as the fog pierced her thick coat.

“How long will it last, Terry?” asked Prim. “This is terrible!”

“There’s no telling. This Newfoundland fog often hangs around for days,” replied her sister.

“That’s a cheerful prospect,” said Prim dolefully. “In that case we’d better make our way to that little fishing village. It’s near this rock. At least it looked that way from the plane.”

But Terry interrupted. “No, let’s stick it out as long as we can by ourselves. I don’t like to mix with people.”

“You’d better get over that idea, Terry Mapes. What’s the matter with you anyway, why don’t you like everybody the way I do? And let me tell you one thing right now. We may have to go down there to find out about Allan and Syd—or we may find Bud Hyslop there. There’s no telling. So don’t you put on that superior air.”

“I won’t Prim, truly, I won’t. I guess it’s more bashfulness than anything else. I really like people but I never know what to say to them,” responded Terry.

“Then think up a good line of talk right now, and make it nice and friendly. We don’t want any more enemies. Bud’s plenty!”

The practical Prim was already looking about the plateau for a suitable place to build a fire.

“Go get some dry twigs, Terry!” she said.

“Where will I find anything dry in this fog? Why not use the alcohol stove?” asked Terry.

“We’d better save that. You don’t know how long we’ll have to stay out here and in another hour things will be still wetter. You can hardly see Skybird now, the fog is so thick.”

Terry scrambled around the rocks, digging into crevices for dry roots and twigs. Prim broke them into tiny bits and made a neat little pile.

“Some fire!” teased Terry. “Just big enough to heat something in a spoon.”

“You needn’t laugh, Terry Mapes! You know well enough I’m a champion fire builder and I say that the smaller your fire is, the better. You only want blaze enough to cover the bottom of your kettle. If it comes out beyond that it’s apt to make your food smoky.”

“All right, have it your own way,” said Terry with a laugh. “I leave it all to you. Just as long as you don’t ask me to cook, I’ll let you do anything you want to do. Here’s the tin egg box.”

Soon the smell of bacon and eggs made them ravenous. They found a shelter under a wind-stunted tree and spread out their meal.

“Isn’t it delicious!” exclaimed Prim. “I don’t believe food is as good when cooked over a gas fire. I’m sure I never tasted anything like these fried eggs.”

“No need to ask me if I enjoy them. Just watch my speed,” returned Terry, buttering a slice of bread. “That’s one nice thing about aviators, they never pick over their food. They’re always hungry!”

At that moment the crackling of brush was heard below the cliff. Prim grabbed Terry’s arm.

“Oh what is it, Terry? I’m frightened. Maybe it’s a wild animal!”

“Hush, Prim. Keep still. It’s a man.”

“Then hide and he won’t see us,” whispered Prim.

“We can’t hide Skybird. I’m not afraid,” replied Terry as she rose to her feet just as the dim figure of a man came up the trail to the summit. The girl took a few steps toward the intruder.

“Who’s there?” she demanded sternly.

The next moment she stood face to face with Bud Hyslop.

Bud stared as if he were seeing ghosts, then he demanded with an angry glare, “What are you doing here, Terry Mapes? What brought you to Newfoundland?”

“I might ask you the same question, Bud Hyslop,” replied Terry, flaring with anger.

But the sensible Prim came to the rescue. “Why, we came up to find Allan and Syd. They’re missing. They must have been forced down on the island.”

“Then we’re on the same errand,” replied Bud. “I started to go to Florida but was delayed, so when the word came that the boys were missing, I just turned around and came on up here to help find them. I’ve scoured the country everywhere for them. But they’re gone! Disappeared without any clue.”

Terry watched Bud. She was almost certain that the boy was not telling the truth. She felt sure that he knew the whereabouts of Allan and Syd.

But the story he told half convinced Prim. “Maybe he is telling the truth, Terry,” she whispered at the first opportunity. “Maybe his intentions are good.”

“Good intentions!” stormed Terry in a low voice. “I wouldn’t trust that fellow as far as I could see him.”

Bud was talking once more. “You haven’t a chance of getting back to Harbor Grace today in this fog. You’d better come down to Jim Heron’s place where you can keep warm and get something to eat.”

“We’ve had our breakfast,” answered Terry, her head high, her nose in the air.

Prim gave her a dig with her elbow. Terry understood and when her sister agreed to the plan, Terry followed without a word. “Prim is always so sensible,” thought Terry. “Whatever would I do without her? She’s my balance wheel.”

“It’s warm there and it’s only a few hundred feet down the cliffside by the shore,” said Bud as he led the way.

Terry and Prim scrambled down the trail to the narrow inlet called Fish Cove, where rude shelters had been put up to house the fishermen and their families. A sickening odor of salted fish came to them long before they could see the houses in the sheltered canyon.

Bud took the girls by a round-about trail leading to Jim Heron’s house. It was the largest building in Fish Cove and stood there like a fortress, a two storied stone building, grim and forbidding in the fog.

Terry grabbed her sister by the arm. “What a house! It looks like a prison.”

Prim was trembling. “I don’t want to go in there. It’s spookey! I’d rather be cold outside in the fog.”

But at that moment a girl opened the door. From her face and figure one could not have told whether she was a boy or girl. Her straight hair was cut short and plastered down close to her head. Her face was angular with large features. Only her torn gingham dress proclaimed her a girl. Over her thin shoulders she wore a man’s coat, which added to the boyish appearance.

The girl’s face was pitifully sad. And when she saw Bud Hyslop, a look of distrust made her frown but this changed to a smile when she caught a glimpse of the two girls. She started forward as if to greet them, then hesitated as she looked once more at Bud.

But through the wide open door Terry and Prim caught sight of a glowing, old-fashioned fireplace.

“I’ve brought some friends of mine,” explained Bud. “They came on the same errand I did. Got caught in the fog and were forced down. This is Sally Wyn, girls. Now I’ll leave you to get acquainted and go and see Jim Heron.”

“I’m Terry Mapes, and this is my twin sister, Prim,” announced Terry. “I’m so glad to find a girl of our own age around here.”

Sally led the girls inside and offered them a chair, while she hurried to steep some tea over the glowing coals. In the gloomy interior the fire lit up Sally’s face. Her features were good. She looked kind and sweet. But the lines about her mouth were sad and bitter. The girls pitied her.

When Terry explained that they had just had their breakfast on the plateau, Sally looked so disappointed that they were forced to eat more. The tea and doughnuts tasted good.

While they were eating, a complaining voice called from the next room, “Get to work, Sally. What you doing now? Bring me a cup of tea.”

Sally jumped up. “She’s awfully cranky since she’s been laid up with a broken leg. Keeps at me all the time,” said the girl in a weary voice. “I don’t know what to do to please her.”

“Who is she, anyway?” asked Terry.

“She’s Nancy Heron, that’s Jim Heron’s wife. They live here,” answered the girl as she went about her work.

Terry and Prim wanted to question her further, but Sally’s lips had drawn together in a bitter line. They feared that they had offended her.

Who was this girl? And what was that old woman to her? Terry longed to know, but now was not the time to ask.

As Sally leaned over the fire, the girls watched her intently. She did not seem to belong to this sinister looking house. Even with the blazing wood fire the room felt damp and uncomfortable. They shuddered at the thought of any girl living here and calling it home.

While the tea was preparing for Nancy, Sally flew about the kitchen, tidying up and whenever her footsteps paused, the voice always called her to account.

“Such a life!” thought Terry. “I’m glad I’m not Sally Wyn.”

Yet this was the only home that Sally knew. A few minutes later she said, “I just happened to be home this week. Mrs. Heron broke her leg and Mrs. Armes, the lady I work for, let me come to help.”

“That’s nice!” said Terry. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Sally looked up quickly. Most people didn’t care where Sally was. She was not used to appreciation and now she wondered if Terry really meant it. Sally smiled. Her whole face changed with that smile. She was almost pretty, thought Terry.

Suddenly Terry jumped up. “Wonder why Bud doesn’t come back,” she said in a whisper to Prim. “I don’t trust that fellow. I think we’d better see if our plane is all right,” Terry said aloud.

“Let me go up with you and see your plane,” pleaded Sally. “I can be ready just in a minute, as soon as I take this tea to old Nancy.”

“Take your time, Sally, we’ll wait,” said both girls together.

A few minutes later the three girls left the cabin. Outside they met Jim Heron, a tall, ungainly man who glared at them with piercing eyes. He carried a shotgun across his shoulder, which added to his fierce appearance.

“Git back there!” he shouted. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I wonder what Jim’s doing with that shotgun,” said Sally “This isn’t shooting weather.”

Jim beckoned them to come back then suddenly he turned aside. “All right, go! The harm’s done!”

“What does he mean by that, Sally? What harm?” asked Terry.

The girls ran swiftly up the trail. At the summit they understood Jim Heron’s remark. As they stepped on the plateau Skybird was just leaving the ground. Bud Hyslop at the controls guided the little craft straight out into a bank of fog.

Terry screamed.

“Oh, Prim! Bud’s stolen our plane! He’s taken Skybird!” she cried.

“Keep quiet, Terry. Nothing can be done by getting angry and shouting. Maybe he’ll bring it back,” said Prim.

“No he won’t! He’s stolen Skybird! He’ll crash in this fog! Oh, Prim, what can we do?”

Prim was just as worried as Terry over the danger to their little plane, but she controlled herself. Terry was trembling with anger. Prim took her arm.

“Don’t worry so, Terry. Maybe things will come out all right.”

At that moment the tall form of Jim Heron appeared. He had suddenly decided that he had better keep his eyes on the girls. Terry ran to him.

“Bud Hyslop has stolen our plane,” she cried indignantly, looking to the old man for sympathy.

“Don’t you worry none, Miss,” replied Jim Heron. “Bud’s all right. He’ll bring your plane back. He just went over to Harbor Grace on an errand. He’s just borrowed that plane.”

Terry wanted to ease her mind by expressing her honest opinion about Bud Hyslop but a look from Prim quieted her. She frowned, then held her lips tight-pressed. With her head high she started down the trail after Jim Heron. Her manner was very angry, superior and haughty.

Prim grabbed her by the arm: “Terry Mapes behave yourself. If we are ever going to find Allan and Syd, we’ve got to keep in with these people. Maybe the old man knows something about the boys.”

Terry asked Jim Heron, but the old man shook his head. “I never saw the boys at all. Bud says his two friends crashed up here somewhere and he’s hunting them. And you’re doing the same thing, he told me. You’re working together like partners.”

Terry laughed outright, then walked on without a word. As they were coming down the cliff, they heard Nancy Heron calling in her cracked and peevish voice:

“Sally Wyn! Where are you? Get to work! I’ll have no idling in my house!”

“Now Prim, there is one thing sure,” Terry whispered to her sister. “Bud Hyslop has proven that he is our enemy. We know now where he stands. I wish I knew whether Jim Heron is in on Bud’s scheme.”

As they neared the house Terry thought of a plan. She approached Jim Heron and asked him to take them to Harbor Grace. “Surely there’s a launch in Fish Cove,” she said.

“What do you want to go to Harbor Grace for?” demanded Jim suspiciously. “What are you going to do there?”

“I want to telegraph my father so he’ll know we’re all right.”

Jim Heron refused flatly and firmly. Terry insisted and Jim was not used to arguments with women. He lost his patience and stormed at them.

“Into the house you go!” he said, as he thrust them ahead of him through the door. “Now don’t you step your foot across the sill until I give you leave. And that won’t be until Bud returns. That’s his order!”

“Oh, now I see. Bud Hyslop told you to watch us and not let us get away. Is that it?” demanded Terry.

“Right you are, Miss! You caught my meaning. You’re my prisoners! And do you hear that, Sally Wyn? We’re not to let the girls out of our sight!”

Sally looked at the girls, her face was flushed, fear was in her dark eyes. She did not answer the man.

“Do you hear me?” Jim Heron shouted at her.

“Yes sir!” replied Sally, not daring to meet the glances of her new friends.

Jim Heron went outside and sat down on a rude bench before the door. He held his shotgun in his hand.

“Prisoners!” said Terry under her breath. “What do you know about that!” She looked around the room and what she saw was not reassuring for the old stone house looked very much like a prison.

But Terry was game. Her lip curled disdainfully.

“Prisoners, indeed!” she said with a shrug. “Just wait and see, Bud Hyslop!”