CHAPTER IX Off to Europe

Accustomed as they were to excitement and thrills, it was with an exuberance which they could not entirely submerge or control that Big Jack, Don and Andy Flures repeated their instructions to Fred Bentner.

"We return at once to Halifax," Jack continued, "replenish oil and petrol, mount a machine gun which already has been ordered there for us by wireless, and which will be secretly put into the hangar, so that no one will begin gossiping, and then we're off."

"Weather permitting, of course," suggested Fred.

"The international crisis is not being affected by the weather," Jack answered. "Only an impossible brand will prevent our getting away just as soon as we are ready. This is not to be a test flight under the most favorable conditions, but under whatever weather happens to prevail, once we get under way."

"Whew!" ejaculated Fred. "This isn't to be any play or sporting contest."

"It most certainly is not," said Andy. "And it's very likely to develop into one of the toughest jobs we ever tackled, for more reasons than one."

"Relate them," Fred urged.

"Well," Andy continued, "why, for instance, the machine gun? These fellows in Washington are not given to useless delays or to heroics. Their attitude was mighty serious, and although they didn't mention it, I grasped that there might be interests which, if they knew we had these documents, might go a mighty long way to come into possession of them, or at least prevent their being presented at the Peace Conference in time to accomplish their purpose."

"You're right," said Don, seeming to catch the full significance of their possible difficulties for the first time. "By golly, I never gave that a thought."

"Well, all of us may before we're over," said Andy.

But by now they were ready for their return flight to Halifax, from which it was necessary that they make their start, though for new reasons developed in the foregoing conversation, all of them wished that it might be possible to begin their flight from another and less prominent place.

Back over almost the identical route they had traveled on their journey to the capital, they flew the return trip, passing Philadelphia and New York by daylight, however, at such a tremendous height that they were practically lost to view, coming along the rugged coast of lower New England as darkness began to close in on them.

Dense clouds entirely obscured the moon, and of necessity they reduced speed to "feel their way" against the strong east wind which tended to drive them inland.

"It looks bad for a start tomorrow," Jack said, as he glanced at the barometer which showed a downward tendency.

"That'll change as we get further north, if I'm not mistaken," said Don, casting a keen glance downward. "What's the altimeter show?"

"We're up about 2300," Andy answered, reading the register of their height.

Don again measured the angle between due north, as indicated by the compass, and their line of direction as shown by the longitudinal line of the plane. It showed that unconsciously in the dense blackness of the night they were again bearing inland.

A few brief words from the navigator, and there was a slight increase of speed, accompanied by a bank and outward turn, and then, as the mist on the glass-encased nacelle showed they were on the cloud line, a drop of a couple of hundred feet.

As they passed the rugged coast of Maine they could hear great waves pounding on the rocky shore, but it came up to them only dimly against the throbbing of their engines and the soothing song of the resistless propellers.

Dawn found them above a coast line which none of them knew. It was bleak and barren, with no evidences of population upon it.

"Just as I reckoned," said Don, easily. "The wind got behind us stronger than we knew. We've more than covered our destination. We're heading for Labrador, and, at this rate, the North Pole."

The navigator was right. They banked and turned, and in three hours came within sight of welcome Halifax.

They made an easy descent and rolled their machine onto the portable skids to take it into the hangar.

But so easily and logically had Big Jack explained their apparent purpose in being away that there was nothing more than an ordinary curiosity about them on their return.

"Took it easy," Andy explained to one pilot who started inquiries. And then, as though in reality he was trying to hide some defects which had developed: "We stopped two or three times, of course, to look her over, or we would have been back sooner."

The other pilot tried to hide a smile. Andy had succeeded beyond measure. Before noon they heard whisperings of the weaknesses their plane had developed while out.

But while this speculation was running the gamut of the aero field, the four youths were working with all the speed they knew how to expend, to get the machine gun mounted, store aboard the necessary fuel and oil for the long and hazardous trip, stock up with two days' provisions, and get their rounds of ammunition and other incidentals in place.

It was two o'clock that afternoon when Big Jack, with a final critical survey, announced everything complete.

Don went to the door and glanced out. There were not more than four or five persons in sight anywhere, and none of them near. It was instantly decided that the propitious moment was at hand. The four of them got behind the big plane, mounted upon its portable skids, and threw their weight against the well-balanced craft. But at that it was about all they could do to get it started, for in addition to its own weight, the plane carried four and a half tons of petrol, oil, ammunition, machine gun and rations.

Once started, however, the momentum made the job a comparatively easy one. Glancing sideways, they could see that one or two men had stopped at a distance to watch them. Apparently satisfied, however, that at most it was to be nothing more than another trial spin, they soon passed on.

The giant bird-like machine was now floating on her own pontoons on the surface of the none-too-smooth water.

"Ready?" asked Jack, curtly.

"All set," the quick answer came back.

"Then," said Big Jack, in steady measured tones, as he grasped the throttle which flyers know as the "joy stick", "we're off."

The engines banged, the propellers whirled, the stately craft glided down the waters with rapidly increasing speed, and in a few moments rose majestically into the air.

Like a bird loosed from its cage, it swerved about in an ever-widening circle, and then, to the manner of a homing pigeon picking up the scent, it turned its nose toward Europe and soon was lost to sight.

In the exhilaration of the "hop-off" the men had forgotten the difficulties that might lie ahead.

Could they have looked backward through a telescope as powerful as the one which was trained upon them they would have seen four strangers standing intently in the doorway of that which had been Henryson's hangar, while within three mechanics worked furiously while two other men with equal haste were putting aboard supplies almost identical with those on the plane which already was under way.

And could they have diagnosed this activity they would have known that Germany had had not yet given up all hope—that a last desperate effort was to be made to divide the Allies and to align Japan with the Huns.

They might have guessed then that this effort would be directed toward intercepting or delaying the all-important documents now on their way to the Peace Conference by a Transatlantic service never before attempted.