  Bill levelled off with an abruptness that jarred the very vitals of the plane. Then he allowed the tail to drop slightly, the wheels made contact and the monoplane rolled forward over uneven ground, propelled by her own momentum. Before she actually came to a stop, both lads flung themselves from the cockpits and raced for the trees thirty or forty yards away. It soon became evident that they would be too late to come to close quarters with the girls’ assailants. Brave enough when they had members of the opposite sex to deal with, the ruffians had no desire to mix it up with a couple of husky young aviators. Flinging the struggling girls aside, they turned tail and legged it toward their car with a burst of speed worthy of Olympic runners, and no split seconds to spare. Bill and Osceola immediately sheered off toward the road, but by the time they reached the edge of the field, the motor was only a cloud of dust hurtling down the valley. “If I’d had a gun,” said the Seminole, without the slightest catch of breath, “there’d have been a different ending to this affair!” He scowled at the disappearing car and turned to Bill. “I thought you always packed a gat aboard your crates—when we went into that nose dive, I nearly broke my neck trying to find one.” “Sorry,” gasped Bill, whose sprint had left him winded, “I never thought of them as necessary adjuncts to picnics before! Next time I’ll come provided. It’s just as well those thugs got away, though. Two scalped bandits would mean all kinds of unpleasantness up here in New England. Here come the girls, now. They seem to be none the worse for their adventure.” “You,” declared the chief, “make me infernally tired.” He strode off toward Deborah. “You aren’t damaged, I hope?” asked Bill as he came up to the trio. “Only rather mussed,” smiled Dorothy, a pretty girl with brown hair and the figure of an athlete. “In fact, I’ve kind of an inkling that those foreign gentlemen got more than they bargained for. The guy that started to rough-house me, ran away with a broken wrist. Some of the old frumps around New Canaan stick up their noses at my jiu jitsu, but I’ve found it a valuable asset several times in my hectic career!” “And what did you do to your sparring partner, Deborah?” he asked the slender Indian girl who had slipped her arm through Osceola’s. “Not much, I’m afraid, Bill. The brute made me break three perfectly good fingernails.” “I’ll say he did,” chimed in Dorothy. “And his face looked like raw beefsteak when he broke away from her. He nearly knocked me over, he was in such a hurry, and I got a good look at him. If you boys want a first class imitation of a wildcat gone wild, pick on our gentle Deborah. Take my advice, Osceola, and handle her with kid gloves after you’re married.” “One of these days, I’ll catch that hound,” promised the young chief. “And when I finish the job he’ll look worse than his passport picture. How did this all start, anyway?” “Well, you see—” began Dorothy. Deborah interrupted her with a smile. “Let’s feed this bloodthirsty pair,” she suggested. “I’m longing for iced tea myself, and men are so much more reasonable when they’ve eaten! This big brave of mine will be starting on the warpath again unless we give him his lunch.” “I,” said Bill, “second the Seminole chieftainess’ motion! Also, I bar scalp locks in my food. Let’s get to the chow before Osceola gets going.” “Some day,” retorted Osceola, “you’ll say something funny, and the rest of us will die of shock from the surprise.” “Here, here,” interposed Deborah, seizing his arm, “come on, we’ll have to do some forcible feeding, I guess!” “Aren’t they the cute pair!” whispered Dorothy as she and Bill followed toward the grove of maples where the lads had first sighted them from the plane. “Deb’s asked me to be maid of honor at their wedding. I suppose you’ll be Osceola’s best man?” “I suppose so,” said Bill gloomily. “Why, you don’t sound very much interested! The Indian braves will all be in their war paint, and the squaws—” “—it is hoped will wear something warmer and more appropriate for this climate!” “Don’t be silly. You know what I mean. And anyway, no self-respecting redskin puts on war paint for his chief’s wedding. I guess it’s too suggestive of what he’s to expect after the ceremony is over.” “Oh, is that so! Well, you women can certainly get up a good fight, if that’s what you’re driving at. I’ll bet you’re just tickled foolish to be in on the wedding party, and the pageant the tribe will make of it.” “Why—” “And your father’s plan to bring the whole tribe to New Canaan is just grand!” “Oh, that’s part of it. Look here!” Dorothy turned on him. “Just what don’t you like about it, Mister Stuck-up?” “Well—er—you see,” Bill explained, “the ancient Seminole custom forces the best man to kiss the maid-of-honor right after the ceremony—and I—” He ducked just in time to avoid her open palm on the side of his jaw, and ran off toward his plane. Over his shoulder, he called: “Naturally you’re keen on the wedding,” he teased, “but there’s no excuse to get affectionate beforehand. I’ve got to make the Ryan secure. Run along now, and put on your war paint. There’s a smudge on your nose.” “There is not!” snapped Miss Dixon, then she stalked off as Bill doubled up with laughter. “Some day,” she muttered to herself, “I’ll make that smart-aleck the one and only also-ran in a first class massacre.” However, the first thing Dorothy did, upon reaching the picnic spot, was to hunt for her handkerchief and bring forth a compact. Bill strolled back, whistling, hands in pockets. The others were already seated about a white cloth laid on the ground, which was spread with a lunch that made his mouth water. He threw a glance at Dorothy, caught her eye and they both laughed. He dropped down beside her. “Let’s call it quits,” he grinned. “Not on your sweet life, young man. One of these days—but never mind, now you’re my guest at luncheon. We’ll call it an armistice. Dig in. Everybody helps himself at this party.” Osceola, who had been piling Deborah’s plate with everything in sight, in spite of her protests, started in to gnaw a chicken leg, and began talking with his mouth full. “Cut the comedy, Bill. Waylaying girls, and especially, waylaying my girl, is serious business. I don’t intend to let it go at that either—not by a darn sight. And the more I know about what really happened, the sooner I’ll be able to get a line on those bozos.” “I’m just as keen as you are,” Bill retorted, helping Dorothy, then helping himself to cold chicken and potato salad. “Men like that need a good thrashing. You can’t count me out on any move you make. In fact I’ve got some ideas of my own—I got their license number as a starter.” “That,” said Dorothy, and she reached across Bill for the biscuits, “may give us a start and then again it may not. It didn’t help much in the bank robbery, if you’ll remember. From the looks of those two tramps, I should not be surprised if the car had been stolen.” “And where do you get the ‘us’ stuff?” inquired Bill. “If you two boys think you’re going to run this show without Deb and me, you’ve got another think coming. Isn’t that so, Deb?” “It certainly is. We both saw the men and talked to them. Where would you get a description of them if not from us?” “Now look here,” Osceola waved a chicken bone at her, “let’s call it a foursome, and can all the argument. What’s more, Dorothy’s idea about the car being stolen, is, ten-to-one the right dope. That was a big bus and this year’s model. Those things cost a heap of money.” “That’s the way I figured it,” answered Dorothy. “And let me tell you that no two men who made such a fuss about losing a dollar would cough up four thousand of them for a car like that!” Bill stared at Osceola meaningly. “What did you say—that one of them lost a dollar?” “Yes—and a silver dollar at that—one of those cartwheels they use out West instead of bills.” “GOOD NIGHT!” exploded Bill. Osceola stared at him in dumb amazement. “Yes,” she went on, “but why the great excitement? The dollar that man lost—he was a Russian or something, by the way he talked—well, that dollar started the mixup. But you two look as though you’d seen a flock of ghosts—what?” “Just one,” said Osceola, and his tone was deadly serious. “But never mind that now. Get on with your own story, then we’ll tell ours.” She looked first at one and then at the other of the lads. “Well, just as you say. Of course, I know there’s something I don’t understand behind this, but I’ll be a sport and do my talking first. Deb and I flew over here and parked my bus where you see her now. We made things shipshape aboard, then toted the lunch over here and went to the spring to get water. It’s over by the road, you know, and we were just about to fill the pail, when that car came bumping along the dirt road, doing fifty, if I’m any judge of speed. I’d just said to Deb that the fellow who was driving couldn’t think much of his springs, when something bright flew out of the window. It lit in the high grass near us, and I went over to see what it might be. The grass was so high and the ground so rutty that I couldn’t find a thing. Then I thought I saw something shining in the rubble, but when I picked it up, it was nothing but a piece of quartz, so I dropped it again. By that time the car had stopped and was backing up the road. Two men sprang out and came running toward me. They were both dark, and both spoke rather broken English. The bigger of the men yelled at me to give him back his silver dollar. I told him I’d seen it fly out of the car, that I’d been looking for it, but couldn’t find it. My answer seemed to stump him for a minute, then without another word, he and his pal got on their knees and began to comb that part of the field for it. I wasn’t at all taken by their looks, neither was Deb, so we filled our pail and came back here.... Somebody give me a drink,” she broke off, “all this talking makes me thirsty—” Bill filled her glass with water, and after taking a few sips, she went on with her story. “Where was I? Oh, yes, well, we hadn’t been here long when the men gave up their search and followed us. It seems that they’d seen me stoop to pick up that quartz and they thought I must have their old dollar! Of course, I denied it, but they were only more insistent. To finish the tale, the big one said that if I wouldn’t hand it over, he’d take it from me! Well, as you saw, he tried to do just that. Deb horned in, like the peach she is, and number two tried to stop her. Things were getting more hectic than pleasant, when they suddenly broke away, and I saw you boys hot-footing it for us. And I want to end this long speech by saying that never in my life have I been gladder to see two human beings. I haven’t had a chance to thank you both before, but I certainly do it now! It was simply stunning to see the way you came at them!” “And that goes for me, Bill,” cut in Deborah, “I’ve already told Osceola, but I want to tell you, too, how much we appreciated the wonderful way you dashed to our rescue.” “I think,” said Bill, “that the rescue, as you call it, was all in favor of the assaulters. Those bohunks, or whatever they are, bit off a lot more than they could chew when they tackled you Amazons. The chief and I did no more than save them from taking the count on their backs, worse luck!” “Dorothy, did you say that the dollar landed in the field just below the spring?” asked Osceola. “Yes, just there—or thereabouts.” “Excuse me,” he said and stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute or two.” Bill watched the young Seminole stride away toward the road. “That guy,” he declared, with a wink at Dorothy, “has a one-track mind. Wild horses won’t drag him off the track, either, once he gets started.” “And some people—have no minds at all!” Deborah ran swiftly after her fiance. “Ha-ha! Put that into your pipe and smoke it,” Dorothy laughed at the surprised look on Bill’s face. “She’s quick on the come-back, isn’t she?” “Too blooming touchy, if you want to know—” “Oh, my goodness! A girl isn’t worth a thing who won’t stick up for the man she’s engaged to!” “Perhaps not—but I’m no girl—and all this love business makes me sick. Osceola has acted like a hen with one chick ever since Deborah came into the picture.” “Oh, cheer up, old gloomy, she didn’t mean anything by that—any more than you did by your wisecrack! And by the way, you and Osceola are invited to dinner at my house tonight. You’ll have to dash away early though. Daddy’s gone to Hartford on business and won’t be back till tomorrow. I don’t want to lose my rep, you know.” “Thanks for the invite,—but I didn’t know you had any.” “Oh, you didn’t! Well, let me tell you, young man—” Osceola’s voice cut her short. “Here it is!” He flung a silver dollar onto the white cloth. Dorothy picked up the coin and examined it. “Number two of the series, on a bet?” said Bill, looking up at the chief. “Almost,” replied his friend, “but not quite. This is number fifty-seven.” That night at dinner the main topic of conversation among the four young people was the winged cartwheels, as Dorothy had named them. They had arrived home too late to do anything about tracing the car license, and after the meal was finished, Bill and Osceola noticed that the girls looked tired and decided to leave even earlier than they had planned. They walked across the ridge road to the Bolton place opposite, and were in bed and asleep by eleven o’clock. The telephone in Bill’s room awoke him with a start. He glanced at the luminous dial of his wristwatch, and caught up the receiver. It was then exactly ten minutes past two. “Bill! Oh, Bill—is that you?” “Speaking, Dorothy. Anything wrong?” “Oh, Bill—please come quickly—those men have got Deb and—” The wire went dead. Bill guessed it had been cut. Dropping the receiver, he snatched an automatic from under his pillow, leaped from his bed, and raced for the hall. |
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