Dorothy Dixon and the Mystery Plane

“Dorothy! Gee – what a change! For a minute I thought you were a stranger.”

“Somebody’s younger brother, I suppose,” she laughed. “These things are miles too big for me – but they’re darned comfortable and warm. You go ahead and change your own clothes. I’ll finish bailing.”

Bill stepped overside and on to the sand, carrying his dry rig and a towel. Dorothy was spreading her sodden clothing on the sand.

“Bailing’s over for today,” he told her, “don’t forget about breakfast, though. I could eat a raw whale.”

“Don’t worry, young feller,” she retorted. “Your breakfast will be ready before you are. Just let me get these things drying in the nice warm sun that’s coming up now, and you’ll see!”

With a wave of his hand he disappeared over the brow of the sand hills, and Dorothy clambered aboard the beached motor sailor. Much to her delight she found a small two-burner oil stove, already lighted, standing on a thwart. Nearby had been placed a coffee-pot and a large frying pan. The lid of the food locker lay open, as did the one containing the water keg.

“Bright boy,” she murmured approvingly. “You’re a real help to mother! Now let’s see what smugglers live on.”

She had set a collapsible table that hinged to the side of the boat and was busy at the stove when she heard Bill’s halloo.

“Breakfast ready?” he called from the beach.

“Will be in a jiffy,” she answered without looking up. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Sunny side up, if it’s all the same to you.”

“O.K. Spread your wet clothes on the sand and come aboard.”

She was serving his eggs on a hot plate when Bill’s head appeared over the side.

“My, but that coffee smells good,” he cried, and swung himself aboard. “How did you manage to cook all that food!”

“Come to the table, and see what we’ve got.”

He sat down and inspected the various edibles, ticking them off on his fingers.

“Coffee, condensed milk, bread and butter, the ham-what-am, fried eggs, marmalade and maple syrup! Say, Dorothy, those guys certainly lived high. Some meal, this!”

Dorothy turned about from the stove, smiling. “And here’s what goes with the maple syrup!”

“A stack of wheats!” He shouted as she uncovered the dish. “You’re a wonder, a magician, Dorothy. How in the world did you manage it?”

Dorothy laughed, pleased by his enthusiasm.

“Found a package of pancake flour in the locker. They’re simple enough to make. Now dig in before things get cold. Help yourself to butter – it’s rather soft, but this lugger doesn’t seem to run to ice.”

Bill set to work as she poured the coffee.

“Like it that way,” he replied, his mouth full of ham and eggs, while he plastered his pancakes with butter. “Well, we’ve sure put it over on Messrs. Donovan and Charlie this trip, not to mention your friend Peters. Got their diamonds and their boat and their clothes. Now we’re eating their breakfast, – the sun is shining once more – and all is right in the world.”

“Where are those diamonds, by the way?” exclaimed Dorothy suddenly, having taken the edge off her ravenous appetite.

Bill laid down his knife and fork. For a moment he looked startled, then burst into a great roar of laughter.

“We’re a fine pair of Secret Service workers!” he cried derisively. “But it’s my fault. You were all in.”

Dorothy’s jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me you left them on the beach!”

“Surest thing you know. I left them beside you on the sand and forgot all about the darn things when I spotted the motor sailor. Never thought of them again until this minute!”

Dorothy nodded sagely. “Which only goes to show that diamonds don’t count for much when one is tired and wet and hungry, not to mention being marooned on a desert island!”

“Ain’t it the truth! Another cup of coffee, please. I’ll fetch them when we’ve finished eating.”

“After we’ve washed up?”

“O.K. with me.”

Bill drank his third cup of coffee and leaned back with a sigh of content.

“Well, the old appetite’s satisfied at last,” he admitted comfortably. “And I don’t mind telling you that was the best meal I ever ate.”

“Thank you, kind sir. Though I think it is your appetite rather than the cook you should thank.”

Bill shook his head. “When it comes to cooking, you’re a real, bona fide, died-in-the-wool, A-1 Ace! How about it – shall we wash the dishes now?”

“I can’t eat any more, and if I don’t get busy soon, I’ll go to sleep again.”

“Pass the dishes and things overside to me. I’ll sluice ’em off in the water. We should worry. This will be our last meal on this boat. I’ll bet a rubber nickel those smuggler-guys wouldn’t have done this much if they’d got the Mary Jane.”

“Poor Mary Jane,” sighed Dorothy as they tidied up. “She was a staunch old thing. I wonder what Yancy will soak Dad for her?”

“Nothing. Uncle Sam pays for that boat. She went down on government service, didn’t she?”

“That’s good news,” smiled Dorothy. “Now, that’s the last plate. Let’s go along the beach. I’m getting worried about those boxes of diamonds. Do you think they’ll be there, all right?”

“Sure to be. Unless somebody has landed on this island while we were busy with the eats. Come along and we’ll see.”

Chapter XII

THE NOTEBOOK

“Do you really think they’ll be where we left them, Bill?”

“Why sure! You’re not worrying, are you?”

The two were hurrying along the beach toward the spot where Dorothy had dropped to the sand and fallen asleep.

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, it’s Uncle Sam’s loot, not ours. And I reckon he cares more about knowing how the smuggling was done than the contraband itself, anyway.”

“I know. But that’s only half of it. The gang has got to be rounded up. We don’t know where they have their headquarters or who is in back of this business. So I’d hate to have to admit I’d lost the diamonds, after all.” Then, as Bill began to reply, she went on: “And don’t forget that Terry Walters is still missing – or was, when I flew over from New Canaan yesterday!”