Beyond an occasional robbery of a hen roost the worthy sheriff had experienced few cases of crime in the county during his time of office, and when he discovered who the prisoners were and why they had been captured he was one of the most astounded and bewildered men in the world.
“Robbin’ the air mail!” he stammered. “Why, these fellers must be desperate criminals!”
“They’re not very desperate now, sheriff,” laughed the pilot.
“What d’you want me to do with ’em?” asked the man of the law doubtfully.
“Lock ’em up.”
“I don’t know as I’m responsible.” The sheriff was not anxious to be given charge over three mail robbers.
“You’re responsible, all right, until the government takes them off your hands,” returned the pilot abruptly. “You take these men and lock them up in your village jail, and make mighty sure they don’t get away from you, either. This crime took place in your county, so you can just get busy and do your duty.”
The sheriff looked very unhappy about it, and kept Ducroy and his companions carefully covered with the shotgun, as though fearing they might break loose at any moment. Assistance soon arrived, when a number of farmers and people from the village, attracted by the crash of the mail plane, came clambering over the adjacent fences. In a remarkably short space of time a crowd had collected. Everybody talked at once, everybody asked questions, and general excitement prevailed.
“What’s the excitement?”
“Airplane busted, eh?”
“Anybody killed?”
“Gosh, Jed, look at the sheriff! What’s he up to, anyhow?”
“Don’t know nothin’ ’bout it, Asa. But somethin’ is plumb wrong, that’s certain.”
“Don’t go too close to the shebang, Billy, she might bust up on you.”
“First time I ever did see an airplane come down like that.”
“Me, too. Glad I come along just in time. I wouldn’t go up in one of ’em for a million dollars.”
“Nor me.”
The sheriff, becoming bolder, announced to all and sundry that he had just captured three mail robbers at great risk of his own life and called on his fellow villagers to help him take the trio safely to jail.
Ducroy, Ollie Jacobs, and Newt Pipps were consequently surrounded and led out of the field, bundled into an automobile where they were guarded by the sheriff, armed with his shotgun, and two husky villagers armed with clubs, then hustled off to town.
The pilot turned to the Hardy boys. A number of people had remained at the scene and were busy inspecting the wrecked plane and asking questions. The majority of the villagers, however, had hastened in the wake of the sheriff and his prisoners.
“Where are you boys from?”
“Bayport,” Frank told him.
The pilot was surprised.
“Why, that’s where I’m bound for.”
“I guess you won’t get there tonight,” said Joe pessimistically.
“I’ve got to get there tonight. I’m carrying the air mail, and it must get through somehow.” The pilot looked at Ducroy’s plane. “I wonder if this old crate will make it.”
“It was running fairly smoothly tonight,” said Frank eagerly. “Do you think you could take off and reach Bayport tonight?”
“Why not? Here, take those mail bags and put them in the plane. We’ll make a try at it, anyway.”
While Frank stowed away the mail bags, Joe showed the pilot the wire connections he had broken in order to prevent Ducroy from getting into the air.
The pilot laughed. “Pretty smart,” he said approvingly. “Even if you hadn’t succeeded in holding them up, they wouldn’t have got very far.”
He quickly repaired the broken connection.
“Now,” he said, “I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t be able to take off from here and reach Bayport in good time tonight. And won’t my chief’s eyes pop out when I tell him the story of this trip!”
Frank ran around to the front of the plane and gave the propeller a flip. The motor began its clamor again and the pilot waved his arm joyously.
“Climb in!” he shouted. “We’re away!”
The Hardy boys lost no time “climbing in,” and while the curious villagers scattered in all directions, the pilot “gave her the gun” and the plane began to move slowly off across the field. Although it was a cloudy night, the pilot had some instinct which told him the right direction, and he brought the plane off the ground just in time to avoid a fence that seemed to rise suddenly before them. He cleared the fence, cleared the telephone wire beyond the road, just skimmed over the tops of some trees, and then climbed swiftly beyond the danger level.
The boys enjoyed this ride considerably more than they had enjoyed their flights in the tail of the plane. The cold air stung their faces. They found goggles and flying helmets in the seats, and when they donned them they were more comfortable.
Lights of the village flashed far beneath them, and as the plane rose higher in the air they saw lights in the darkness many miles on all sides. Far to the north they could see a dull haze of lights from a distant city. Over to one side they could see a speeding beam of light followed by a little string of twinkling stars, which they identified as a train, racing across the countryside.
The plane roared on swiftly and the thrill of that night flight was sufficient reward to the Hardy boys for all the discomforts they had undergone. They were riding high above the world, which seemed to have disappeared altogether save for the twinkling beams and blobs of light scattered over its black surface.
They saw the pilot gesture. He was pointing ahead.
The Hardy boys could see a widening pencil of light which cut through the blackness of the night. It was the beacon light of the Bayport air field, still many miles ahead, but visible from their great height. Beyond that they could see the twinkling flash of a lighthouse at the mouth of Barmet Bay.
In due time the lights of Bayport came into view, a yellow glow, and to the west they could see the airport, clearly
