Frank scrambled out of the plane. He walked about, enjoying the feel of solid ground beneath his feet again. Joe followed, and immediately turned a handspring to express his delight.
“Makes you feel good, doesn’t it?” said his brother, grinning.
“I’ll tell the world it does, Frank! Gee, I feel as cramped as a sardine in a tin.”
“So do I.” Frank stretched himself. “Say, we were mighty lucky they didn’t discover us.”
“Right you are. If they had—well, there is no telling what they would have done.”
“They might have killed us, Joe.”
“Oh, maybe not as bad as that. But they might have tied us up in the woods and left us there.”
“They are a bad crowd.”
“I agree with you.”
The brothers took a look at their surroundings from every side.
“We’d better move away from the plane,” advised Frank. “Some of the mechanics at the hangars may see us and tell Ducroy. I think our best bet is to go to that farmhouse on the other side of the field.”
“Perhaps we can use the telephone there, if they have one.”
In the fading light, the boys crossed the field, climbed over the fence and made their way toward the farmhouse. As they entered the barnyard, a collie dog ran toward them, barking. He was a friendly animal, however, and as he approached he wagged his tail and fawned on them. A stout, cheery-looking man was standing in the doorway of the house.
“Hello, boys,” he shouted. “What can I do for you?”
“Have you a telephone?” asked Frank.
The farmer nodded. “You’re welcome to use it,” he said, then added: “As long as you pay the charges.”
“We’ll do that all right.”
The farmer led them into the house and indicated the telephone in the hall.
“Talk away,” he said. “I saw you coming over from the flying field,” he remarked shrewdly. “Why didn’t you use the telephone there?”
“Private reasons,” replied Joe.
The farmer did not move away while Frank put in a call for Chief Collig at Bayport. At mention of the chief’s name he seemed interested, and when Frank finally got the chief on the wire, he listened with all his ears.
“Chief Collig?” asked Frank. “This is Frank Hardy speaking.—No, we haven’t jumped bail.—What’s that?—We’ll be back in good time.—The reason I’m calling you is to warn you to keep a good watch on the airport on the night of the twenty-eighth.—I can’t tell you why.—There is going to be some trouble.—I don’t know anything more about it than that.—It will be worth your while to make use of this warning.—Where am I speaking from? I can’t tell you. And listen, Chief, will you call up my mother by telephone and let her know that I called you and that Joe and I are all right?—Thanks. Goodbye.”
When Frank rang off, he saw that the farmer was regarding him curiously.
“Looks as if you boys are smarter than you seem,” he remarked. “What are you? Detectives?”
“I suppose you might call us that,” admitted Frank. “But we’d be obliged if you would say nothing to anyone at the airport about us.”
“You can trust me,” returned the man. “I can keep my mouth shut. Where are you staying tonight?”
“We don’t know yet,” said Joe.
“If you’d like to stay here, we have a spare room, and you’re welcome to it,” the farmer volunteered.
“That’s mighty good of you. We were just wondering where we would find a place to sleep. We have to be up and out by seven o’clock, though.”
“I get up at five, myself,” laughed the farmer. “Come on into the kitchen and I’ll have my wife fix up something to eat. You’re more than welcome to stay with us overnight. I’m dyin’ to know what you lads are up to, but I guess I’d better not ask too many questions.”
“You’ll read all about it in the papers,” laughed Frank, “if everything works out the way we want it to.”
XIX
The Twenty-Eighth
The next day was the twenty-seventh and the Hardy boys knew that they had another day to put in before Ducroy and his friends would be ready for the mysterious coup for which they had laid so many plans.
Frank and Joe were up early, and after a substantial breakfast at the farmhouse they said goodbye to the good-natured farmer and his wife, then hastened across the fields toward the airport again. There were a few signs of life about the hangars; some mechanics were busy at a plane out in the field; a new machine was preparing for a takeoff. But the Ducroy plane was deserted and the lads saw that they were in good time to conceal themselves again.
With a fresh supply of water and sandwiches which they had obtained at the farmhouse, they went casually over to the plane, looked around to see that they were not observed, and then, when the coast seemed clear, they slipped quietly into their hiding place.
“Another day ahead of us!” said Frank. “I wish this was the morning of the twenty-eighth instead of only the twenty-seventh.”
“We’ll get through somehow. I hope they don’t keep flying around all day. It gets mighty monotonous being cooped up like this in here.”
Frank made himself more comfortable on his automobile robe.
“We could be worse off. We have lots to eat and drink, and we don’t have to worry about steering the plane.”
“I like to see where I’m going,” said Joe dubiously.
“As long as Ducroy stays sober he isn’t a bad pilot,” returned Frank. “I guess the other pair will see that he’s fit to take the controls before they’ll fly with him. Their necks are just as precious to them as ours are to us.”
“Guess we’d better keep quiet now. They may be along any minute.”
The lads lapsed into silence. In about half an hour they could hear voices and then came footsteps.
“Just
