Ducroy was evidently jockeying for a strategic position, for the plane rocked and swayed, banked and turned, dipped and rose again.
“Ready!”
There was an answering shout from Ollie Jacobs.
“Over she goes!”
The boys heard a rattling sound from the forward part of the plane. What it was they could not imagine.
An instant later, the drumming of the plane below ceased abruptly.
Their own plane swung around. Ducroy cut off his engine and went into a dive.
“We’ve got him!” they heard Ollie Jacobs shouting. “There he goes. Look! He’s diving.”
“Don’t lose sight of him!” shouted Ducroy.
“He’s heading for a field. Nose her down. We’re right behind him, Giles!”
The plane dived swiftly.
From below, the boys heard a distant crash.
“He’s on the ground. Watch out, Ducroy. Come up behind him.”
The plane banked, flinging the two boys violently to one side. It lurched, dived again unsteadily.
“Get ready!” ordered Ducroy. “Don’t let him get away. Can you see him, Ollie?”
“I can’t see him, but I can see the plane. It’s right ahead. Get your gun, Newt.”
“I’m ready,” quavered Newt Pipps.
Gradually, the plane settled down. There was a bump as the wheels touched the earth. The plane rebounded high into the air, for Ducroy had slightly miscalculated in the darkness. The engine roared again. The wheels once more touched the ground, and the plane rocked on over the uneven surface. Finally it came to a stop. The Hardy boys heard a scrambling from the front of the machine.
“All out!” Ducroy was shouting. “Now, boys, make quick work of this. Grab the bags and get back here as quickly as you can. Don’t waste any time. Get into the plane again and wait for me. I’ll get back and start her again. We’ll be in the air before he knows what it’s all about.”
The Hardy boys could hear them running across the field. Frank reached for the catch, flung the door open. He and Joe scrambled out of the plane.
The scene was illuminated by a cloudy moon. There was just sufficient light for them to see a wrecked and crumpled airplane in the field some distance ahead. A pilot was painfully extricating himself from the wreckage. Ducroy and the others were running toward him with drawn revolvers.
The Hardy boys, too, were armed. Realizing that their antagonists were desperate men, they had taken the forethought to provide themselves with revolvers before leaving Bayport. Each lad gripped his weapon.
“It’s the holdup!” said Frank quickly. “Let’s break it up.”
“Just a minute!” declared Joe. “They want to get away in this plane. If we can’t handle them they’ll make a getaway in spite of us. Let’s fix it so they can’t.”
He ran toward the front of the plane, scrambled up into the cockpit. Joe knew something of machinery, and it took him only a few seconds to break an important wire connection that rendered the engine useless for the time being.
“That’ll fix ’em,” he said jubilantly, as he ran back to Frank, who was waiting impatiently. “Now we can take a hand in this little game.”
They ran toward the wrecked plane just as Ducroy and his cronies leveled drawn revolvers at the pilot.
“Put up your hands or we’ll shoot!” ordered Ducroy.
XXII
Captured
Caution prevented the Hardy boys from going closer to the fallen plane.
They had not been seen by Ducroy or the others, and they now realized that it would be folly to play into their hands at this moment. They were outnumbered and they saw that they might easily be disarmed if they took reckless chances. Frank suddenly halted and grasped Joe by the arm.
“We’re foolish to come out in the open like this. We’re just as liable to be shot.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” replied Joe. “What do you think we’d better do?”
“They’ll be coming back to the plane. I think we ought to wait here for them and hold them up when they come back. They’ll be off their guard then and probably they’ll be loaded down with stuff from the other plane.”
Without further parley, the lads turned and ran back. In the gloom they had not been seen. They crouched in the shadow of the disabled plane and watched the activities of the others.
The pilot, after his first shock of surprise, had quickly thrown up his hands. Ducroy and the others advanced toward him.
“What’s the idea?” the lads heard the pilot saying.
“We haven’t time to talk to you,” growled Ducroy, holding a revolver against the man’s body. “We want those mail bags you have here.”
“Bandits, are you?” snapped the pilot “You’ll suffer for this. You tried to kill me!”
“You’re not dead yet,” said Ollie Jacobs callously.
“You flung a rope down from your plane and it tangled up in my propeller shaft. It’s just by luck that I wasn’t killed in the crack-up. Just wait. You’ll pay for this night’s work.”
“We’ll get paid,” chuckled Ducroy. “Get in there, Newt, and heave out those mail bags.”
The pilot was helpless under the menace of the drawn revolvers. He was forced to stand by while Newt Pipps scrambled into the plane, found the mail bags, and began throwing them out to the ground.
“I’ll take care of this fellow,” said Ducroy. “Ollie, you can start bringing those bags up to the other plane. Work fast. Some of these farmers around here may have heard the plane crash and they might be along any minute to investigate.”
Ollie Jacobs, pocketing his revolver, sprang forward and seized two of the heavy mail bags. He flung them over his shoulder and hastened back toward the plane, where the Hardy boys awaited him.
Nearer and nearer he came. The boys crouched in readiness.
Jacobs reached the plane. He did not see the lurking shadows. He was just reaching forward to open the door of the baggage compartment for the reception of the
