The Flying Boys in the Sky

“What can he be driving at?” Harvey asked himself; “that wink looked as if it was an invitation for me to follow him.”

Thus early in the day the two were the only ones in the sitting-room, so that no one could have noticed the action of the two. Nor is it easy to understand why Bohunkus should have relied upon a wink of the eye, when it was as easy and would have been much clearer had he used his gift of speech; but we know how fond his race are of mystery.

When Harvey reached the top of the stairs, where the view was unobstructed along the hall, he saw Bunk standing at his door, as if waiting for him. The space between the two was such that this time the dusky youth instead of winking flirted his head. Then he stepped into Harvey’s room and stood just beyond the partially open door and awaited his friend.

Harvey did not forget that they were near the apartment of Detective Pendar as well as that of the suspected parties, and while moving along the passage way he did his utmost in the way of looking and listening. He made no attempt to soften the noise of his footsteps, for that of itself would have betrayed him. He strode forward and through the doors and stood beside the waiting Bohunkus, who stealthily turned the key in the lock. Then he beckoned to Harvey to bring his chair and place it alongside the one in which the African softly seated himself on the far side of the room.

By this time the white youth was beginning to lose patience.

“What is the matter with you, Bunk?”

“Sh! not so loud,” replied the other, placing a forefinger against his bulbous lips.

“Use a little common sense if you have such a thing about you. If you don’t speak out and explain things, you must get out of my room.”

“All right den; Harv, I know who smashed yo’ airyplane!”

“You do! Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Wanted to break it to yo’ gentle like.”

“Who was it?” demanded the astounded youth.

“Perfesser Morgan!”

Harvey stared in amazement for a moment and then asked:

“How do you know it was he who did it?”

“I seed him!”

“Are you crazy or only a fool, Bunk? Explain yourself. Do you mean to tell me that you saw Professor Morgan destroy my aeroplane?”

“Didn’t perzactly see him doot, but I seed ’nough.”

“How much did you see?”

“When I fust went out ob de hotel and round de corner in de yard by de sheds I seed a tall man, wid his long linen duster, slip fru dat place where two boards had been ripped off. Jes’ as he was slipping fru, he turned and looked at me; dere was de long part-gray whiskers and de black debilish eyes. Oh, it war him and no mistake, Harv,” added Bohunkus with an air of finality.

CHAPTER XX

A PUZZLING TELEGRAM

Harvey Hamilton was astounded. In all his imaginings he had never dreamed of this explanation of the destruction of his aeroplane. One admirable trait of the thick-witted Bohunkus Johnson was his truthfulness. His friend knew he was not trying to deceive him and what he had told could be accepted as fact.

“Why did you wait so long, Bunk, before telling me this story?”

“Wal, Harv, I didn’t want to ’bleve it myself; I didn’t at first, – dat is, I didn’t think de Perfesser was as mean as all dat, but it was him and no mistake.”

“I am sure you are right, though I can’t understand why he should do such a thing.”

“Guess he war jealous ob us.”

“Possibly so, but even then it is hard to understand.”

Harvey still refrained from giving the obvious explanation that presented itself. A man who is mentally unbalanced cannot be held accountable for his acts. It was impossible to feel the resentment toward Professor Morgan which he would have felt had the man been in his right mind. Harvey sighed.

“Only one thing remains for us to do, Bunk.”

“What is that?”

“Go home and give up our outing. Hist! some one is coming.”

Footsteps were heard ascending the stairs. Whoever the person was, he came with deliberate tread along the hall, and halting in front of the door, knocked smartly. Harvey sprang to his feet and opened. The landlord stood before him.

“Here’s a telegram for you; I signed; nothing to pay.”

The wondering youth accepted the yellow envelope and tore it open. He read:

“Go to Groveton and wait. You will learn something to your advantage.”

    “Gabriel Hamilton.”

The message was dated at his father’s place of business in New York, and as shown was signed by him.

“There is no answer,” said Harvey to the waiting landlord, who departed.

“This is beyond me,” he remarked after reading the telegram to Bohunkus, who of course was as much mystified as his companion. “Why we should go to Groveton and what is there that can be of advantage to me, is a greater puzzle than the wrecking of the aeroplane.”

“What am yo’ gwine to do, Harv?”

“Obey orders. Come on.”

The two traveled with so light baggage that they had only to fling their extra coats over their arms, the few minor articles being in their pockets, and descend the stairs. Harvey paid his bill and explained that he had been called suddenly away by the telegram from his father, but it was possible he might return. The landlord expressed his sympathy for the loss of the aeroplane and promised to do all he could to find out who the criminals were.

“Don’t bother,” said Harvey airily, “it’s lucky it didn’t happen when we were a mile or two up in the sky.”

“I understand that you will pay a reward of two hundred dollars for the detection of the scamps?”

“Yes, the offer stands,” replied Harvey, confident that the really guilty individual would never be discovered. “You have my address on your register; if you learn anything, write or telegraph me. By the way, how far is Groveton from here?”

“Twelve miles by railroad.”

“Is it much of a town?”

“Not quite as big as Chesterton.”

“What time can we leave for the place?”