CURLIE CARSON LISTENS IN

by

ROY J. SNELL

The Reilly & Lee Co. Chicago

Printed in the United States of AmericaCopyright, 1922byThe Reilly & Lee Co. All Rights Reserved

Curlie Carson Listens In

CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I A STRANGE MESSAGE 9 II SOMETHING BIG 20 III A WHISPER IN THE NIGHT 34 IV A GAME FOR TWO 46 V IN THE DARK 55 VI A REAL DISCOVERY 64 VII CURLIE RECEIVES A SHOCK 75 VIII CURLIE MEETS A MILLIONAIRE 84 IX A MYSTERIOUS MAP 95 X THE FIRST LAP OF A LONG JOURNEY 107 XI "MANY BARBARIANS AND MUCH GOLD" 117 XII OUT TO SEA IN A COCKLESHELL 126 XIII A GHOST WALKS 134 XIV THE COMING STORM 141 XV S. O. S. 151 XVI A CONFESSION 160 XVII A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT 170 XVIII THE STORMY PETREL GETS AN ANSWER 177 XIX THE MAP'S SECRET 185 XX A SEA ABOVE A SEA 194 XXI THE BOATS ARE GONE 203 XXII THE WRECK OF THE KITTLEWAKE 211 XXIII THE MIRACLE 219 XXIV THE STORY OF THE MAP 227 XXV OFF ON ANOTHER WILD CHASE 234

CURLIE CARSON LISTENS IN

CHAPTER I

A STRANGE MESSAGE

Behind locked and barred doors, surrounded by numberlessmysterious-looking instruments, sat Curlie Carson. To the right of himwas a narrow window. Through that window, a dizzy depth below, lay thecity. Its square, flat roofs formed a mammoth checker-board. Between thesquares criss-crossed the narrow black streets. Like a white chalk-line, drawn by a careless child, the river wound its crooked way across thischecker-board. 

To the left of him was a second narrow window. Through this he caughtthe dark gleam of the broad waters of Lake Michigan. Here and thereacross the surface twinkled the lamps of a vessel, or flashed thewarning beacon of a lighthouse. 

A boy in his late teens was Curlie. Slender, dark, with coal-black eyes, with curls of the same hue clinging tightly to his well-shaped head, hehad the strong profile and the smooth tapering fingers that might belongto an artist, a pickpocket or a detective. 

An artist Curlie was, an artist in his line--radio. Although still aboy, he was already an operator of the "commercial, extra first-class"type. So far as license and title were concerned, he could go no higher. A pickpocket he was not, but a detective he might be thought to be; astrange type of detective, however, a detective of the air; the kindthat sits in a small room hundreds of feet in air and listens; listensto the schemes, the plots, the counterplots of men and to the wildbabble of fools. His task was that of aiding in the capture of knavesand the silencing of foolish folks who used the newly-discoveredradiophone as their mouthpiece. 

"Foolish people, " Major Whittaker, Curlie's superior, who had calledhim to the service, had said, "do quite as much damage to the radioservice as crooks. Fools and knaves must alike be punished and your taskwill be to help catch them. "

Wonderful ears had Curlie Carson, perhaps the most wonderful ears in theworld. In catching the fine shadings of diminishing sounds which came tohim through the radio compass, there was not a man who could excel him. 

So Curlie sat there surrounded by wire-wrapped frames, coils, keys, buttons, switches, motors, dry-cells, storage batteries and all the oddsand ends which made up the equipment of the most perfect listening-instation in the world. 

As he sat there with Joe Marion, his pal, by his side, his brow waswrinkled in thought. He was reviewing the events of the previous night. At 1:00 a. M. , the witching hour when the crooked ones, the mean ones, come creeping forth like ghosts to carry on doubtful conversations byradio, a strange thing had happened. A message had gone crashing outthrough space. Wave lengths 1200 meters long sped it on its way. Therewas power enough behind it to carry it from pole to pole, but all it hadsaid was:

"A slight breeze from the west. "

Three times the message had been repeated, then had come silence. Therehad been no answer though Curlie had listened long for it on 1200 meterwave lengths and five other lengths as well. 

Sudden as had come the message, fleet as had been its passing, it hadnot been too fleet for Curlie. He had compassed its direction; measuredits distance. On a map of the city which lay before him he had made apencil cross and said:

"It came from there. " And he was right for, strange as it may seem, anexpert such as Curlie can sit in a hidden tower room such as his was anddetect the exact location of a station whose message has set his eardrums aquiver. 

The location had puzzled him. There was not a station in the citylicensed to send 1200 meter wave lengths. The spot he had marked was thelocation of the city's most magnificent apartment hotel. The hotelpossessed a radiophone set. Its antennae, hung high upon the building'sroof, were capable of carrying that 1200 meter message with all thatpower behind it, but the radio equipment of the hotel had no such power. 

"Something crooked about that, " he had mumbled to himself. 

His first impulse had been to call the police. He did not act upon it. They might blunder. The thing might get out. This law-breaker mightescape. Not five people in all the world knew of Curlie's detectingstation. He would work out this problem alone. 

Now, as he sat thinking of it, he decided to confide this new secret tohis pal, Joe Marion. 

"Yes, " he told himself, "I'll tell him about it at chow. "

At this moment his mind was recalled to other matters. New trouble wasbrewing. 

"A slight breeze from the west, " his mind went over the messageautomatically, "and the wind was due east. Don't mean much as it stands, but I suspect means a lot more than it seems to. "

Just above Curlie's head there hung a receiver. To the right and left ofhim were two loud-speakers. Before him ranged three others. Each one ofthese was tuned to a certain wave length, 200, 350, 500, 600, 1200meters. Each was modulated down until sounds came to Curlie's delicatelytuned ear drums as little more than whispers. A concert was beingbroadcast on 350. The booming tones of a baritone had been coming in assoftly and sweetly as a mother's lullaby. But now Curlie's ear detectedinterference. 

Instantly he was all alert. The receiver was clamped down over his ears, a half dozen switches were sent, snap, snap, snap. There followed a deadsilence. Then in a shrill boyish voice, together with the baritone'srenewal of his song, there came:

"I want the world to know that I am a wireless operator, op-er-a-a-tor. Hoop-la! Tra-la!"

Curlie smiled in spite of his vexation. He acted quickly and withprecision. His slender fingers guided a coil-wound frame from right toleft. Backward and forward it glided, and as it moved the boyish"Hoop-la" rose and fell. Almost instantly it came to a standstill. 

"There! That's it!" he breathed. 

Then to Joe Marion, "It's a shame about those kids. They won't learn toplay the game square. Don't know the rules and don't care. Think wecan't catch 'em, I guess. "

His hand went out for a telephone. 

"Superior 2231, " he purred. 

"That you, 2231? Just a moment. "

He touched a key here, another there. He twisted a knob there, then:"That you, Mulligan?" he half whispered. "Good! There's a kid on yourbeat got a wireless running wild. Yes. Broke in on the concert. Don't behard on him. No license? Yes, guess that's right. Take away his sendingset. Give him another chance? Let him listen in. What's that? Location?Clarendon Street, near Orton Place; about second door, I'd say. That'sall right. Thanks, yourself. "

Dropping the receiver on its hook he tossed off his headpiece, snappedat five buttons, then settled back in his chair. 

"These kids'll be the death of me yet, " he grumbled. "Always breakingin, not meaning any harm but doing harm all the same. I don't feel sovery sore about them though. It's the fellows that go in for long wavelengths and high power, that break in on 500, 1200 and 1800, that do thereal damage. Had a queer case last night. Looks crooked, too. " He wassilent for a moment then he said reflectively:

"Guess that's about all till midnight. It's after midnight that thequeer birds come creeping out. I'm going to tell you about that one lastnight, over the ham sandwich, dill pickle and coffee. No use to trynow--we'd sure get broken in on. "

Joe Marion, who had been taken on as an understudy by Curlie, was at thepresent time working without pay. At times when trouble developed ontwo different wave lengths at once, he took a hand and helped out. Forthe most part he merely looked, listened and learned. 

His pal he held in the greatest admiration. And who would not? Had henot, when this great big new thing, the radiophone, came leaping rightinto the world from nowhere, been able to take a hand from the verybeginning and become at once a valuable servant of his beloved country?Had he not at times detected meddlers who were endangering the lives ofmen upon the high seas? Had he not at one time received the highest ofcommendations from the great chief of this secret service of the air?

To Joe there was something weirdly fascinating about the whole business. Here they were, two boys in the tower of the highest building in a greatcity. Five people knew of their presence. These five were high up in theradio secret service. No message sent out by them could ever be tracedback to its source. They did not use the air. That would be dangerous, easily traced. They did not use the telephone alone. That, too, would bedangerous. But when a radiophone had been connected to the telephonewire and tuned to a certain wave length, then they talked and not eventhe person they talked with would ever know whence came the message. This was a necessary precaution for, from this very tower, dangerousbands of criminals, gangs of smugglers, and all other types oflaw-breakers would ultimately be brought to justice. And if these butknew of the presence of this boy in his tower room, some dark night thattower would be rocked by an exploding bomb and the boy in his room wouldbe shaken to earth like a young mud-wasp in his nest. 

"I'll tell you, " said Curlie, as he rose to answer a tap on the door, "Ibelieve that affair last night was some big thing; but what it was Ican't even guess. "

He opened the door to let in Coles Masters, his relief, then motioningto Joe he took his cap and left the room. Down the winding stairs whichled to the elevator several stories lower down they made their way insilence, at last to enter a cage and be silently dropped to the groundhundreds of feet below. 

CHAPTER II

SOMETHING BIG

"You see, " Curlie began as he crossed his slim legs beside a small tablein an all-night lunch room, buried somewhere in the deep recesses ofthis same skyscraper, "that fellow sent the message about the easterlybreeze that blew west and I located the station at that hotel. Thismorning I went over to see how the place looked. It's a wonderful hotel, that one; palm garden in the middle of it, marble columns, fountain, painted sheet iron ceiling that'd make you dizzy to look at, and thefinest dressed people you ever saw walking around everywhere. 

"Well, I found my way to the sending room of the radiophone and rightaway the operator wanted to throw me out; said I was a fresh kid andall that. But when I showed him my papers, he calmed down a lot andshowed me everything he had. 

"I saw right away it wasn't his equipment that had sent thatmessage--that'd be like sending a Big Bertha bomb into Paris with atwenty-two caliber rifle. He just naturally didn't have the power, that's all. So I didn't tell him anything about it; just walked out andwent around back to where I could see the way his wires ran from thesending room to the antenna. 

"I hadn't any more than got there and had one look-up when along strollsa man who wants to know what I'm looking at. I saw right away that hewasn't a hotel employee for he didn't wear either a bandmaster's uniformnor a cutaway coat, so I just smiled and said:

"Got a girl friend up there on the sixteenth floor. She's leaving thismorning and arranged to drop her trunk down to me so's not to have totip the porter. 

"Well, sir, I hadn't more than said that than a girl did pop her headout of a sixteenth floor window and stare straight down at me. 

"The fellow actually dodged. Guess he thought the trunk was due anyminute. 

"Funny part of it was the girl actually seemed interested in me, just asif she had met me somewhere before. Of course she was too high up for meto tell what she was like, but it made me mighty curious. I counted thewindows to right and left so I could find that room if I wanted to. Thewindow was only the third to the right from where the lead wire to theantenna went up. 

"Well, then, that fellow--"

"Mr. Carson?" a voice interrupted Curlie. "Anyone here by the name ofCarson?" It came from the desk-clerk of the eating place. 

"That's me, " exclaimed Curlie, jumping up. 

"Telephone. "

"All right. Be back in a minute, Joe. " Curlie was away to answer thecall. 

"'Lo. That you, Curlie?" came through the receiver. "This is ColesMasters. Got a bad case--extra bad. Can't understand it. Fellow'ssending 600 meter waves, with enough power to cross the Atlantic. "

"Six hundred!" exclaimed Curlie in a tense whisper. "Why, that's whatthey use for S. O. S. At sea! It's criminal. Endangers every ship indistress. Five years in prison for it. Get him, can't you?"

"Can't. That's the trouble. Every time I think I've got him spotted heseems to move. "

"To move!"

"Yes, sir. "

"That's queer! I'll be up right away. "

"Come on, " exclaimed Curlie, grabbing his hat and dragging Joe to hisfeet. "It's a big one. Moves, he says. Sends 600; big power. Bet it'sthat same hotel fellow. Gee whiz! Supposing it turned out to be thatsixteenth story girl and she caught me spying on her. I tell you it'ssomething big!"

Impatient at the slowness of the up-shooting elevator, Curlie at lastleaped out before the iron door at the top was half open, then twosteps at a time sprang up a flight of stairs. Out of breath, he arrivedat the final landing, sprang through the door to the secret tower room, then seizing his headpiece, sank into a chair. 

By a single move of the hand, Coles Masters indicated the radio-compasshe had been listening in on. 

"That's where he was, last time he spoke, " he grumbled, "but no tellingwhere he'll be next. He's been dodging all over that stretch ofcountry. "

Curlie's fingers moved rapidly. He adjusted the coil of a radio-compasshere, another there and still another here. He twisted the knob of eachto the 600 mark, then, twisting the tuning knobs, lined them all up toreceive on the same wave length. The winding of each was set at aslightly different angle from any other. 

"That about covers him, " he mumbled. "Get the distance?"

"Near as I could make out, " said Coles Masters, "it was from ten tofifteen miles. He moves toward us, then away at times, just as he doesto right and left. "

"Hm, " sighed Curlie, resting his chin on his hands. "That's a new dodge, this moving business. Complicates things, that does. "

For a time he sat in a brown study. At last he spoke again, this timequite as much to himself as to the other:

"Folks don't move unless they have a way to move. That fellow has somemeans of locomotion. Anyway, " he sighed, "it's not our friend of the bighotel unless--unless he or she or whoever it is has taken to locomotion, and that's not likely. Not the same side of the city. Out near theforest preserve. "

"Yes, or a little beyond, " said Coles. 

"What do you think, " asked Curlie suddenly, "has he got an automobile oran airplane?"

"Can't tell, " said Coles thoughtfully. "You can't really judge distancesin air accurately. There are powerful equipments which might be mountedon either automobiles or airplanes. "

"The thing that puzzled me, though, was his line of chatter. All aboutsome 'map, old French, ' and a lot of stuff like that. I--"

Suddenly he broke off. A grinding sound had come from one of the loudspeakers. There followed in a clear, strong voice:

"Map O. K. Old French is amazing. Good for a million. "

Curlie's fingers were busy once more as a tense look drew his foreheadinto a scowl. 

"About fifteen miles, " he whispered. 

Then the voice resumed:

"Time up the bird. When?"

A tense silence ensued. Then, faint, as if from far away, yet verydistinctly there came the single word:

"Wednesday. " This was followed by three letters distinctly pronounced:"L. C. W. "

A second later came the strong voice in answer: "A. C. S. "

"That, " said Curlie as he settled back in his chair, "in my estimationends the night's entertainment. But the nerve of the fellow!" heexploded. "Sending that kind of rot on six hundred. Why, at this verymoment some disabled ship might be struggling in a storm on the GreatLakes or even on the Atlantic, and this jumble of words would muddle uptheir message so its meaning would be lost and the ship with it. Theworst I could wish for such a fellow is that he be dropped into the seawith some means of keeping afloat but with neither food nor drink and aship nowhere in sight. "

If Curlie had known how exactly this wish was to be granted in the daysthat were to come, he might have experienced some strange sensations. 

He straightened up and placed a dot on the map before him. 

"That's where he was. I'll motor out in the morning and have a look atthings. May discover some clew. "

Curlie was a bright American boy of the very best type. Like mostAmerican boys who do not have riches thrust upon them, when he wanted athing he made it or made a way to get it. Three years previous he hadwanted an automobile--wanted it awfully. And his total capital had been$49. 63. He had been wanting that car for some time when an express trainhit a powerful roadster on a crossing near his home. 

Having flocked in with the throng to view the twisted remains of thecar, he had been struck with an idea. This idea he had put into action. The railroad had settled with the owner for the car. They had the wreckof it on their hands. Curlie bought it for twenty-five dollars. 

To his great delight he had found the powerful motor practicallyuninjured. The driving gear too, with the exception of one cog wheel, was in workable order. The remainder of the car he sold to a junk dealerfor five dollars. It was twisted and broken beyond redemption. 

He had next searched about for a discarded chassis on which to mount hisgears and motor. This search rewarded, he had proceeded to assemble hiscar. And one fine day he sailed out upon the street with the "HummingBird, " as he had named her. 

"Better call her 'Gravel Car, '" Joe had said when he saw that she had nobody at all and that he must ride with his feet thrust straight outbefore him in a homemade seat bolted to a buckboard-like platform. 

But when, on a level stretch of road, Curlie had "let her out, " Joe hadat once acquired an immense respect for the Humming Bird. "For, " he saidlater, "she can hum and she can go like a streak of light, and that'sabout all any humming bird can do. "

No further messages of importance having drifted in to him from theouter air, Curlie, an hour before dinner, made his way down to thestreet and, having warmed up the Humming Bird's motor, muttered as hesprang into the seat: "I'll just run out there and see what I see. "

A half hour later, just as the first gray streak of dawn was appearing, he curved off onto a gravel road. Here he threw his car over to one sideand, switching on a flashlight, steered with one hand while he bentover the side to examine the left-hand track. 

There had been a light rain at ten that night. Since that time a heavycar with diamond-tread tires had passed along the road, leaving itstracks in certain soft, sandy spots. 

"Maybe that's him, " Curlie murmured. 

A little farther on, stopping his machine, he got out and walked alongthe road. Examining the surface closely, he walked on for five rods, then wheeled about and made his way back to the car. 

"He was over this road three times last night. That looks like a warmscent. Can't tell, though. My friend might not have been in a car atall; might have been in a plane. 

"We'll have a look at the very spot. " He twirled the wheel and was away. 

A half mile farther down the road, he paused to look at a map. "Notquite here, " he murmured. "About a quarter mile farther. "

The car crept over another quarter of a mile. When he again came to ahalt he found himself on a stretch of paved road. "This is the spotfrom which the last message was sent. Tough luck!" he muttered. "Can'ttell a thing here. "

Glancing to his right, he sat up with a start. He had suddenly becomeaware of the fact that he was just before the gate of the estate of J. Anson Ardmore, reputed to be the richest man of the city. 

"Huh!" Curlie grunted. "Car must have stood about here when that lastmessage was sent. Maybe it went up that lane. Maybe it didn't, too. J. Anson's got a son, about my age I guess. Vincent they call him. He mightbe up to something. There's a girl, too, sixteen or so. Can't tell whatthese rich folks will do. "

He stepped down the rich man's private drive, but here the surface ofcrushed stone was so perfectly kept that no telltale mark was to beseen. 

He did not venture far, as he had no relish for being caught trespassingon such an estate without some good explanation for his conduct. Just atthat moment he had no desire to explain. 

As he turned to go back, he caught the thud-thud of hoof beats along theprivate drive. 

Fortunately the abundant shrubbery hid him from view. Hardly had hereached the machine and assumed the attitude of one hunting trouble inhis engine when a girl rounded a corner at full gallop. 

Dressed in full riding costume and mounted on a blooded horse, she swungalong as graceful as a lark. As she came into the public highway sheflashed Curlie a look and a smile. Then she was gone. 

Curlie liked the smile even if it did come from one of the "fourhundred. "

"Gee! Old Humming Bird, " he exclaimed as he patted his car, "did shemean that smile for you or for me? So there might be a girl in the case, same as there seems to be in that one over at the hotel? Girl in mostevery case. What if she sent those messages and I found her out? Thatwould sure be tough. 

"But business is business!" He set his mouth grimly. "You can't foolwith old Uncle Sam, not when you're endangering the lives of some ofhis bravest sons at sea. "

He threw in the clutch and drove slowly along the road. Twice he pausedto examine the tracks made the night before. Each time he discoveredmarks of the diamond tread. 

"That radiophone was mounted on a car, " he decided; "I'll stake my lifeon that. Now if he keeps it up, how am I to catch him?"

CHAPTER III

A WHISPER IN THE NIGHT

The next night found Curlie in the secret tower room alone. Joe Marionwas away helping to run down a case of "malicious interference. "

It was curious business, this work of the radio secret service. Thoughhe had been at it for months, Curlie had never quite got used to it. Adetective he was in the truest sense of the word, yet how different fromthe kind one reads about in books. 

He laughed as he thought of it now. Then as his tapering fingersadjusted a screw, his brow became suddenly wrinkled in thought. He wastroubled by the two cases which had lately developed: the one at thehotel and that other, the station that moved. How was he to locate thatpowerful secret station in the hotel? How was he to discover the ownerof that mysterious moving radio? He could not answer these questions. And yet somehow they must be answered. He knew that. 

The operator in the hotel was sending on 1200 meter wave lengths. Statemessages were constantly being sent across the Atlantic on 1200;messages of the greatest importance. There was a conference of nationsat that moment going on in Europe. America's representative must be keptin constant touch with the government officials at Washington. If thisperson at the hotel persisted in sending messages on 1200 meter wavelengths an important message might at any moment be blurred or lost. 

Not less important was the breaking in of this moving operator on 600. This was the wave length used by ships and by harbor stations. Greatsteamships sometimes waited for hours to get a message ashore on 600. Ifthis person were to be allowed to break in upon them they might waithours longer. Thousands of dollars would be lost. And then, as we havesaid before, the message of some ship in distress might be lost becauseof this person's interference. 

"When, oh, when, " sighed Curlie, "will people become used to this newthing, the radiophone? When will they learn that it is a great, newservant of mankind and not a toy? When will they take time to instructthemselves regarding the rights of others? When will they develop aconscience which will compel them to consider those rights?"

The answer which came to his mind was, "Perhaps never. But little bylittle they will learn some things. It is my duty not alone to detectbut to teach. "

He shifted uneasily in his chair, then held his ear close to the loudspeaker tuned to 200. A message came floating in to him across the air, a mysterious whispered message. 

"Hello, Curlie, " it said. "You don't know me, but you have seen me--"

Automatically Curlie's fingers moved the radio-compass backward andforward while his mind gauged the distance. His right hand scrawledsome figures on a pad, and all the time his ears were strained to catchthe whisper. 

"I have seen you, " it went on, "and I like your looks. That's why I'mtalking now. "

For a second the whisper ceased. There was something awe-inspiring aboutthat whisper. As he sat in his secret chamber away up there against thesky, Curlie felt as if some spirit-being was floating about out there inthe sky on a fleecy cloud and pausing now and then to whisper to him. 

"I saw you, " the whisper repeated. "You are in very grave danger. He isa bold and treacherous man. It's big, Curlie, _big_!" The whisper roseshrilly. "But you must be careful. You must not let him know the placewhere you listen in. I don't know where it is. But I do know you listenin. Be careful--careful--careful, c-a-r-e-f-u-l-" The whisper trailedoff into space, to be lost in thin air. 

Wiping the beads of perspiration from his face, Curlie sat up. "Well, now, " he whispered softly to himself, "what do you know about that?

"One thing I do know, " he told himself. "I'd swear it was a girl'swhisper, though how you can tell a girl's whisper is more than I know. Question is: Which one is it--hotel station or the one that moves?"

For a moment his brow wrinkled in thought. Then with an exclamation ofdisgust he exclaimed:

"That's easy! I've got their location!"

He figured for a few seconds, then put a pencil point on a certain spoton his map. 

"There!" he muttered. "It's the hotel, the exact spot. "

Suddenly he started. There came the rattle of a key in the door. 

"Oh!" he exclaimed as Coles Masters shoved the door open, "it's you. I'mglad you're here. Got something I want to look into. Want to bad. Mindif I take an extra hour?"

"Nope. "

"All right. See you later. " With a bound he was out of the door anddown the stairs. 

"That boy, " muttered Coles Masters, with a grin, "will either die youngor become famous. Only Providence knows which it will be. "

Curlie did not leave the elevator at the first floor. Dropping down tothe sub-basement, he wound his way in and out through a labyrinth ofdimly lighted halls, at last to climb a stair to the first basement. Then, having passed into his accustomed eating place, he paused longenough to purchase a Swiss cheese sandwich, after which, with cap pulledwell down over his eyes, he made his way up a second flight of stairsinto the outer air. 

He shivered as he emerged into the open street. Whether this chill camefrom the damp cool of the night or from nervous excitement, he could nottell. The memory of the whispered warning bore heavily upon his mind. 

Turning his face resolutely in the direction of the hotel, he walkedthree blocks, then hailed a passing taxi. When the taxi dropped him, afew minutes later, he was still four blocks from the point of hisdestination. Covering this distance with rapid strides, he came to therear of the hotel. There, dodging past a line of waiting taxis, he cameat length to a dark corner where a stone bench made an angle with thewall of a building directly behind the hotel. 

Crouching in this corner, he glanced rapidly from right to left to learnwhether or not his arrival had been detected. Satisfied that for themoment he was safe, he cast a glance upward to where the aerials of theradiophone glistened in the moonlight. From that point he allowed hisgaze to drop steadily downward until it reached the windows of thesixteenth floor. There it remained fixed for a full moment. 

There came from between his teeth a sudden intake of breath. 

Had he seen some movement at the window to the right of the wires thatled to the aerials? He must see, no matter how great the risk. 

Drawing a small pair of binoculars from his pocket, he fixed them on thespot. He then turned a screw at the side of the binocular and suddenlythere appeared upon the wall of the building a round spot of brilliantlight. The size of a plate, this mysterious spot moved rapidly backwardand forward until it at last rested upon the wires by the window. 

"Ah!" came in an involuntary whisper from the boy's lips. 

A hand, the slender, graceful hand of a girl had been clearly outlinedagainst the wall. Quickly as it had been withdrawn, Curlie had seen thatbetween the thumb and finger of that hand was the end of a wire. 

"Been tapping the aerial. A girl!" he muttered incredulously. "And itwas she who whispered to me out of the night. "

He had been crouching low. Now he rose, stretched himself, pocketed hisinstrument and was about to make his way out of the yard when, with thesuddenness of a tiger, a body launched itself upon his back. 

So unexpected was the assault that the boy's body closed up like a jackknife. He fell, face down, completely doubled up, with his face betweenhis knees. 

"Now I got yuh!" was snarled into his ear. The weight on his back wascrushing. He could scarcely breathe. 

"You--you have, " he managed to groan. 

"You'll come along, " said the voice. 

Curlie did not speak nor stir. The weight was partly lifted from hisback. The man had dropped one foot to the ground. 

Now Curlie, had he been properly exercised for it when he was a child, might have turned out a fair contortionist. He was exceedingly slim andlimber and had learned many of the tricks of the contortionist. He haddone this merely to amuse his friends. Now the tricks stood him in goodstead. 

He did not attempt to rise by straightening up, as most persons wouldhave done. When the pressure grew less, he lay still doubled up, facedown upon the ground. 

This gave him two advantages. It led his assailant to believe himinjured in some way and at the same time left him in position for thenext move. 

When the pressure had been sufficiently removed for his purpose, he tooka quick, strong breath, then with a rush which set every muscle inaction, he thrust his head between his knees, gripped his own ankles anddid a double turn over which resembled nothing so much as a boulderrolling down hill. 

The next instant, finding himself free, he sprang to his feet, dodgedbehind a taxi, shot past three moving cars, leaped to the pavement, skirted a wall, then dodged into an alley. 

Down this alley there was a doorway. Into the shadow of this doorway hethrew himself. There was a hole in the wooden door. A hook could bereached through the hole. The hook quickly lifted, he found himselfinside a narrow court at the back of a large apartment building. Therewas a driveway from this court into the street beyond. 

Assuming a natural pace, he made his way down this driveway and out intothe street where, with a low whistled tune, he made his way back towardthe heart of the city. Five blocks farther down he paused to adjust hisclothing. 

"Wow! but that was a close one, " he muttered. "Don't know who my heavyfriend was but he sure wanted to detain me for some reason or other. Butsay!" he mused; "how about that girl? Hope I didn't get her in bad byflashing that light on her hand. 

"But then, " he thought more soberly, "perhaps she is the principal badone. Perhaps she is whispering on 200 just to mislead me. Who knows?You've got to be wise as a serpent when you play this game, that's whatyou've got to be. There's just two kinds of radio detectives, the quickand the dead. " He chuckled dryly. 

"Well, I guess Coles Masters will think I'm one of the dead ones if Idon't rush on. "

Hurrying to the next street, he boarded a car to make his way back tothe secret lower room. 

During his absence things had been happening in the mysterious radioworld that hangs like a filmy ghost-land above the sleeping world. 

CHAPTER IV

A GAME FOR TWO

As Curlie slipped noiselessly through the door into the secret towerroom, he was seized by the arm and dragged into his chair. 

"Man! where have you been?" It was Coles Masters. He spoke in an excitedwhisper. "Listen to that! It's the second message. He'll repeat itagain. They always do. "

As Curlie listened, his face grew grave with concern. The message camefrom the head station of the radiophone secret service bureau. Thatstation was located in New York. The message was a reprimand. Kindly, friendly but firmly, it told Curlie that for two nights now someone inhis area had been breaking in on 600. Coast-to-ship messages had beendisturbed. Once an S. O. S. From a disabled fishing schooner had barelyescaped being lost. Something must be done about it at once! By Curlie!In Chicago!

With parted lips and bated breath Curlie listened to the message as itcame to him in code. Then, with trembling fingers, he adjusted a lever, touched a button, turned a screw and dictated to a station in anotherpart of the city his answering O. K. To the message. 

"Of course, " he said to Coles, as he lifted the receiver from his head, "that means that this fellow that races all over the map has been at itagain to-night. "

"About an hour ago, " said Coles, wrinkling his brow. 

"What did you do about it?"

"What was there to do? I tried to locate him. He danced about, firsthere, then there. I marked his locations. They were never the same. See, " he pointed to the map. "I numbered them. He spoke from fivedifferent points. "

"What did he say?"

"It's all written down there, " Coles motioned to a pad. "Can't makehead nor tail to it. Something about a map, an airplane, a boat and alot of gold. "

"What kind of voice?"

"Sounded young. Some boy in late teens, I'd say. Though it might havebeen a girl. She might have changed her voice to disguise it. You can'ttell. Had two cases like that in the last three weeks. You never cantell about voices. "

"No, " said Curlie, thoughtfully, "you never can tell. That's about theonly thing you can be sure of in this strange old world. You can alwaysbe sure that you never can tell. Thing that looks like one thing alwaysturns out to be something else. 

"Point is, " he continued after a moment's deep thought, "somebody'sgetting past our guard. Slamming us right in the nose and we're notdoing a thing about it. Don't look like we could. I've got a theory butyou can't go searching the estate of the richest man in your city juston theory; you've got to have facts to back you up, and mighty definitefacts, too. "

"Yes, that's right, " agreed Coles. "But what do you make out of all thatbabble about airplane, map, ship and much gold? Do you suppose it's somesmuggling scheme, some plan to get a lot of Russian or Austrian jewelsinto the country without paying duty or something like that?"

"I don't make anything out of that, " said Curlie rather sharply, "andfor the time, I don't jolly much care. The thing I'm interested in isthe fact that we're being beaten; that the air about us is being torn toshreds every night by some careless or criminal person; that we'regetting a black eye and a reprimand from the department; that seatraffic is being interrupted; that lives are being imperiled and wecan't seem to do anything about it. That's what's turning my liver darkblack!" He pounded the desk before him until instruments rattled andwires sang. 

"But how you are going to catch a fellow when he goes tearing all overthe map, " said Curlie, more calmly, "is exactly what I don't know. Yougo down and get a bite of chow. No, go on home and go to bed. I'll takethe rest of the shift. I want to think. I think best when I'm alone;when the wires sing me a song; when the air whispers to me out of thenight; when the ghosts of dead radio-men, ghosts of operators who jokedwith death when the sea was reaching up mighty arms to drag them down, come back to talk to me. That's when I think best. These whisperingghosts tell me things. When I sit here all, asleep but my ears, thingsseem to come to me. "

"Bah!" said Coles Masters, shivering, "you give me the creeps. "

Drawing on his coat, he slipped out of the door, leaving Curlie slumpeddown in his chair already all asleep but his wonderful ears. 

For a full hour he sat lumped up there. Seeming scarcely to breathe, stirring now and then as in sleep, he continued to listen and to dream. 

Then suddenly he sat up with a start to exclaim out loud:

"Yes! That's it. Catch a thief with a thief. Catch a radiophone with aradiophone. A radiophone on wheels? That's a game two can play at. I'lldo it! To-morrow night. "

Snapping up a telephone receiver he murmured:

"Central 662. "

A moment later he tuned an instrument and threw on a switch; "Weightmanthere?" he inquired. "Asleep? Wake him up. This is Curlie Carson. Yes, it's important. No, I'll tell you. Don't bother to wake him now--havehim over at the Coffee Shop at five bells. The Coffee Shop. He'll know. Don't fail! It's important!"

He snapped down the receiver. Weightman was the radio mechanic assignedto his station. He would have unusual and important work to do that day. 

He slumped down again in his chair but did not remain in that positionmany minutes. 

From one of the loud speakers came a persistent whisper:

"Hello. Hello, Curlie, you there?" the girlish voice purred, the onethat had whispered to him before. "I saw you to-night. That wasdangerous. Why did you do it? Nearly got me in bad. Not quite. He almostgot you. "

The whisper ceased. Adjusting the campus coil Curlie sat at strainedattention. 

"I wish I knew you were listening, " came again. "It's hard to bewhispering into the night and not knowing you're being heard. "

Curlie's fingers moved nervously over a tuner knob. He was sorelytempted to tune in and flash an answering "O. K. , " if nothing more. 

But, no, he drew his hands resolutely back. It was not wise. There wasdanger in it. This might be a trap. They might locate his secret towerroom by that single O. K. Then disaster would follow. 

The whisper came again: "You're clever, Curlie, awfully clever. The wayyou doubled over and turned yourself wrong side out was great! Butplease do be careful. It's big, Curlie, big!" again the whisper rosealmost to speaking tone. "And he is a terribly determined man; wouldn'tstop at anything. "

The whisper ceased. 

For a moment Curlie sat there lost in reflection, then he mutteredsavagely: "Oh! get off the air, you little whispering mystery, you'respoiling my technique. Your very terrible friend didn't send any messageto-night and the one he sent before hasn't got us into any trouble. I'vegot to forget you and go after this moving fellow who sends 600. "

As if in answer to his challenge the loud speaker to his right, the onetuned to 1200, began to rattle. Then, in the full, determined tones of aman accustomed to speak with authority there came:

"Calm night. "

Three times, over five thousand miles of air, this great voice bellowedits message. 

The silence which followed was ghostly. Cold perspiration stood out onCurlie's brow. 

It was not necessary for him to calculate the location from which thismessage was sent. He knew that it had come from the hotel. And it had. 

"Next thing, " he told himself with a groan, "the International Servicewill be on my back for letting that lion roar. I ought to turn that overto the police; but I won't, not just yet. "

CHAPTER V

IN THE DARK

As the clock in a distant college tower struck the hour of eleven thefollowing night, a flat looking car with a powerful engine stole outinto the road that ran by the Forest Preserve. It was the Humming Bird. Joe Marion was at the wheel. Curlie sat beside him. 

On the back of the car was a miscellaneous pile of instruments allsecurely clamped down. Above there hung suspended between two verticalbars a square frame from which there gleamed the copper wires of a coil. 

To catch a radiophone on wheels, Curlie had reasoned, one must mount hisradio compass on wheels and pursue the offender. How well it would work, he could not even guess, but anything was better than sitting therehelpless in the secret tower room listening to this person tearing upthe air in a manner both unwise and unlawful. 

So here they were, prepared to make the test. 

"Of course, " Curlie grumbled, "now we've got the trap set, the ghost maydecide not to walk on this particular night. That'll be part of ourrotten luck. "

"Most ghosts, I'm told, " chuckled Joe, "prefer to walk when there'ssomeone about, for what's the good of a ghost-walk when there's no oneto see. So our radio ghost may show up after all. "

Curlie lapsed into silence. He was reviewing the events which led up tothis thrilling moment. When the message on 600 came banging to his earswith great power on that first night, he had carefully platted thevarious locations of the person who had sent the messages. There hadbeen some criss-crosses shown but, in the main, a line drawn throughthese points had formed an oblong which on the actual surface of theground must have been some ten miles in length by six in width. Oneinteresting point was that the first and last messages of that night hadbeen sent at points not a quarter of a mile apart. 

"Which goes to show, " he reasoned, "that this fellow started from acertain point and made his way back to that point, just as a rabbit willdo when chased by a hound. And those two points, the start and thefinish, are close to the driveway into the million dollar estate. But ofcourse that doesn't prove that the car came from there. Any person coulddrive to that point, begin operations, race over the square and returnto the point. "

Coles Masters had platted the points for the second night. A line drawnthrough these points made a figure quite irregular in form, which was, however, composed of rectangles. 

"Which proves, " he told himself, "that our friend, the lawless radiofan, drives an auto and not an airplane. An auto follows roads, whichfor the most part in this section form squares. He passed along two orthree sides of these squares and this makes up the figure. 

"There's only one thing in common in the two night journeys, " hecontinued. "The start and finish are at almost exactly the same spot, near the entrance of that great estate. "

He tried not to allow these facts to cause him to hold undue suspicionagainst the inhabitants of that mansion, but in this he experienced somedifficulty. 

"The thing for us to do, " he had said to Joe, "is to run out there andback our car into an unfrequented, wooded road running into the forestpreserve. We don't dare go too near the original starting place. Ifwe're seen with this load of junk it will give us dead away. Thing is tobe ready to move quickly when he lets loose with his message. Ought notto be more than a mile away, I'd say. He's got a powerful car. You cantell that by the fact that he sent a message at this corner, then racedover here, four miles distant, and got another message off in elevenminutes, which is quick action. "

They backed into the grass-grown road of the Forest Preserve, thensettled down in their places to wait. 

The night was dark. There was no moon. Clouds were scurrying overhead. Only the rustle of leaves and the startled tweet-tweet of some birdsurprised in his sleep disturbed the utter silence of the woods. 

"Ghostly, " whispered Joe, then he lapsed into silence. 

With his slim legs stretched out before him, Curlie was soon asleep, allbut his ears. Joe insisted that those ears never slept. 

A half hour, an hour, an hour and a half dragged by. Joe had gone quiteto sleep when Curlie suddenly dug him in the ribs and uttered theshrilly whispered warning:

"Hist! There she blows!"

A flashlight was snapped on. Curlie's fingers flew from instrument toinstrument. The voice of the mysterious operator could be heard. Nowrising, now falling, it filled the woods with echoes, yet the speakerwas more than a mile away, as near as the boys could guess. 

The words spoken by him were now of no importance. Location waseverything. 

"Same place, " exclaimed Curlie, "exactly the same! You know where! Drivelike mad!"

Instantly the car lurched forward. Coming out of the bush on two wheels, she sent a shower of gravel flying as she rushed madly down the road. 

Quick as they were, the quarry had been quicker. As they rounded acorner, they caught the red gleam of a tail-light disappearing at thenext turn. 

"Heck!" said Curlie, then, "Let her out! Show him some speed. "

The motor of the Humming Bird sang joyously. Fairly eating up the road, she took the corner with a wide swing. But when they looked down thelong stretch of highway there was no red tail-light to be seen. 

"Heck!" said Curlie again, "he's reached the next crossroad and turnedthe corner. Can't tell which way he went. It's a hard, dry gravelroadbed--won't tell a thing. Best we can do is to rattle along up there, then sit it out for another listen-in. "

Disappointed but not disheartened, Curlie adjusted his instruments, thensat in breathless expectation. 

He did not have long to wait, for again the voice in the loud speakerboomed out into the night. 

"Huh, " he grumbled a few seconds later, "he's got three miles lead onus. To the right. Quick, give her the gas. "

Again they were off. For two miles and a half straight ahead they raced. The Humming Bird quivered like a leaf, instruments jingling in spite oftheir lashings. 

"Make it all the way, " said Curlie, as Joe slowed up. "He's not there. Given us the slip again. "

Six times this program was gone through with. Not once in all that timedid they catch sight of that tail-light. 

"Some car he's got!" said Curlie when the farce was ended. "Bet henever even guessed he was being chased. But you wait; we'll get himyet. "

When they were once more in the secret tower room Curlie plotted theroute of the mysterious operator. 

"Only significant thing about that, " he commented, when he had finished, "is that he starts and finishes within a quarter of a mile of the sameplace as on the other two nights. "

"And that place--" suggested Joe. 

"Is near old J. Anson's driveway. "

"Looks mighty suspicious to me, " said Joe. 

"Does to me, too; but, as I have said before, you can't raid a man'sprivate castle on any such flimsy proof as that. You've got to have thegoods. 

"Tell you what, " he said after a moment's silence, "sometimes ournatural ears and eyes are better than all these instruments and wires. I'm going out there to-morrow night alone and on foot. "

"Might work, " said Joe thoughtfully, "but whatever you do, you must becareful. "

"Careful?" said Curlie scornfully. "There are times when a fellow can'tafford to be careful. This thing's getting serious. " He glanced over asecond message from the head office of his bureau. It was couched in nogentle terms. He was told that this intruder must be caught and that atonce if he, Curlie Carson, wished to hold his position as chief of thesecret tower room station. 

CHAPTER VI

A REAL DISCOVERY

Darkness found Curlie again on the edge of the Forest Preserve. Thistime he was on foot and alone. Apparently he carried nothing. His righthip pocket bulged, the handle of a flashlight protruded from his coatpocket, that was all. 

He did not pause at the spot where they had hid their car the nightbefore, but continued down the main road for a half mile farther. Therehe plunged into the forest, to continue his journey under cover. Eleveno'clock found him concealed in a clump of bushes in the woods that layopposite the millionaire's driveway. 

"If they come to-night, " he whispered to himself, "I'll know whetherthey belong on that estate or not, and if they do I'll know who it is. Anyway, I'll know it's one of J. Anson's folks. And we'll see if it isa boy or the girl?"

The question interested him. He had no relish for getting a girl intotrouble, especially that frank-faced, smiling girl he had seen onhorseback. 

"But the thing must stop, " he told himself sternly, taking a tight gripon something in his hip pocket. 

The night was clear. He could see objects quite plainly. The trees, theshrubbery, the stone pillars at the entrance to the driveway, stood outin bold relief. For a time he sat staring at them in silence. At last heclosed his eyes and slept, as was his custom, all but his ears. 

He was startled from this stupor by a sudden flash of light which madeits presence felt even through his eyelids. 

As his eyes flew open, he found himself staring at two glowingheadlights. The next instant he had flattened himself in the grass. 

"Wow! Hope they didn't see me!" he whispered. 

A low-built, powerful car had come purring so quietly down the drivewayof the estate that it had rounded a sudden curve before he had beenaware of its presence. 

Now, with undiminished speed, it turned to the right, entered the publichighway and sped straight on. 

As Curlie rose from the grass to stare after it, a low exclamationescaped his lips. Supported by high parallel bars, which were doubtlessin turn supported by strong guy wires, were the aerials of a radiophone. The whole of this rose from, and rested upon, the body of the powerfulroadster. 

"And I missed them!" he exploded, then:

"No, I didn't. They're stopping. "

It was true. Some eighty rods down the road the car had slowed up. Hehad no means of telling what they were doing but felt quite warranted insupposing they were sending a message. 

Like a flash he was away through the brush. Speed and the utmost cautionwere necessary. If a limb cracked, if he fell over a hidden ditch, thequarry would be frightened away. He must see what was going on, see itwith his own eyes. 

Fairly holding his breath, he struggled forward. Now he had covered athird of the distance, now half, now three-quarters and now--

His lips parted in an unuttered groan. He leaped out of the bush. Something flashed in his hand. For a second that thing was pointed downthe road where the speedy car had suddenly resumed its journey. Then hishand dropped to his side. 

"No, " he said slowly, "it won't do. Too risky. Guess they haven't seenme. If not, they will be back. And next time, " he shook his fist at thevanishing car, "next time my fair lad or lady, you won't escape me. "

Turning back, he again disappeared into the brush. 

In the meantime things were happening in the air. Coles Masters, who wasin charge of the secret tower room, had his hands full. He switched onthis loud-speaker and lowered that one to a whisper. He tuned in thisone and cut that one out. 

"Whew!" he exclaimed, mopping his brow, "what a night! Wish Curlie werehere. "

To start the night's entertainment a boy had broken in on the radioconcert. Then a crank had come shouting right into the middle of aspeech by a politician. A few moments later a message on 1200 had fairlyburst his ear-drums. The message had been short, composed of just threewords:

"Dark, cloudy night. "

"Regular thunderbolt behind that!" he muttered as he measured thelocation and found it to come from the city's great hotel. "Enough thereto send it round the world. Shouldn't be surprised to get the echo of itin a few seconds myself. The nerve of the man!"

In strange contrast to this was the whisper which followed within fiveminutes. It was sent on 200. 

"Hello, Curlie. Did you get that? Terrible, wasn't it?" came thewhisper. "But, Curlie, I don't think you need to bother about him. He'sleaving in a day or two. He's going, far, far away. He's going north;out of your territory entirely. I know you'd love to catch him, Curlie, but it would be dangerous, awfully dangerous! So don't you try, for heis going far, far away. "

Coles Masters' fingers had worked rapidly during this whispered message. Not only had he measured the distance and taken the location, but he hadwritten down the message word for word. 

"Well, I'll be jiggered!" he muttered. "That was a girl, a young girland a pretty one too, or I miss my guess. Anyway she has an interestingwhisper. She's at that same hotel and seems to know Curlie. She musthave broken in on my 1200 friend. So he's going north? Can't go any toosoon for me. Mighty queer case. Have to turn it over to Curlie. It's allGreek to me. "

"Hello, there! What--"

He wheeled about to snap a button. A message was being shouted out on600. 

"That's the chap Curlie's after. So he hasn't got him yet? Well, here'shoping he hurries. " His pencil began rapidly writing the message. 

Meanwhile Curlie in his woods retreat had moved silently over to theother side of the driveway. 

"Probably will come back the other way, " he concluded. 

He did not remain behind the fence this time but threw himself into theshallow depths of a dry ravine. He remained keenly alert. His eyes wereconstantly on the road, which lay like a brown ribbon a full milestraight before him. 

He was thinking of his various cases. Equal in interest to the one whichhe was now hunting down was that big hotel case. He was thinking of thegirl. Why had she whispered those messages to him? Was she merely a toolof the man behind the powerful radio machine? Was she simply leading himon? He could not feel that she was. Somehow her whisper had an accent ofgenuine interest in it. 

"Wonder what she's like, " he asked himself. Then, with a smile playingabout his lips, he tried to guess. 

"Small, very active, has dark brown hair and snappy black eyes. " After amoment's thought he chuckled: "Probably really a heavy blonde; somethinglike two hundred pounds. You can't tell anything by a voice. You--"

Suddenly he braced himself up on his elbows. His keen ears had caught adistant purring sound. Two yellow balls of fire were rapidlyapproaching--the headlights of a fast-moving automobile. 

"He comes! Now for it!" He prepared to spring. 

In an amazingly short time the car was all but upon him. Leaping to hisfeet, he let out a wild whoop and, brandishing his automaticthreateningly, stood squarely in the middle of the road. 

His heart beat wildly. There could be no mistake. He saw the wires androds swaying above the car. 

For a second the car slowed up, then, with a snort it leaped right athim. Nimble as he was, he barely escaped being run down. 

As the car flashed past him, he wheeled about and almost instantly hisautomatic barked three times. Simultaneous with the last shot there camea louder explosion. 

"Tire! Got you, " he muttered. 

Instantly the car swerved to the side of the road. A tire had gone flat. The car had skidded. 

The rods which carried the aerials caught in a tree top. The car, jerkedback like a mad horse caught by a lariat, reared up on its hind wheels, threatened to turn turtle, then crashed over on its side with its enginestill racing wildly. 

Sudden as had been the catastrophe, it had not been too quick for thedriver. Just as the car crashed over, Curlie caught sight of a figure inlong linen duster and with closely wrapped head, dashing up the bank, over the fence and into the brush. 

"Go it, " he exclaimed, making no attempt to catch the fugitive, "youknow the country better than I do. I'd never catch you in that labyrinthof trees. Besides, I don't need to. Your equipment is pretty wellsmashed up and you've left me enough evidence to make out a beautifulcase. "

Walking over to the machine, he reached over and shut off the engine. After that, in a very leisurely manner he collected various odds andends from the radiophone equipment. Having stuffed these into hispockets, he wrenched the back number plate from the machine and tuckedit under his arm. 

"Guess that's enough, " he murmured. "Now I can take my own time inspringing the thing. He probably thinks I was a hold-up man, but even ifhe guessed the truth he couldn't escape me and couldn't get hisequipment back in shape short of a week, so that's that. "

Turning, he started toward the nearest interurban line a good five milesaway. 

When he had walked a mile, he stopped suddenly in his track. 

"Say!" he exclaimed. "Was that the son or the daughter? All muffled upthat way I couldn't tell. "

"Ho, well, " he resumed his march, "that'll come out in time. Only I hopeit wasn't the girl. I sort of liked her looks. "

CHAPTER VII

CURLIE RECEIVES A SHOCK

Having boarded an interurban car, Curlie slept his way into the city. Once there he hurried over to the secret tower room, where the news ofhis night's adventure was received with great joy. 

"So you got him!" exclaimed Coles Masters. "Smashed him up right? Bullyfor you. That's great!" He slapped Curlie on the back. 

Dropping into his chair, Curlie dictated a message by secret wire toheadquarters in New York. The message stated in modest, concise termsthat the nuisance on 600 in the secret tower region was at an end; thatthe station had been effectively broken up and that the offender wouldno doubt soon be in the hands of the law. 

A half hour later he received a highly commendatory message, congratulating him on his achievement and bidding him keep up the goodwork. 

After glancing over Coles' reports for the evening and making mentalnotes from them, Curlie prepared to seek his bed and indulge in a good, long sleep, the first in several days. 

"There isn't a bit of hurry in going after that rich young fellow orgirl, if it is a girl, " he said to Coles. "That'll keep. We've gotplenty of proof. " He jerked a thumb toward the corner where was a boxinto which he had tossed the various small parts of a sending set andthe number plate of the car. "All we need to do now is to saunter outthere some fine morning and have a heart-to-heart talk with J. Ansonhimself. "

Had Curlie but known it, there was to be a great deal more than that toit. There was to be an adventure in it for him such as he had neverbefore experienced, an adventure which was destined to take himthousands of miles from the secret tower room and which was to throwhim into such dangers as would cause the bravest to shrink back interror. 

Since he was blissfully ignorant of all this he was also blissfullyhappy in the consciousness of having achieved success in the thing hehad undertaken. 

"This, " he laughed as he said it, "is going to bring me face to facewith one of America's greatest millionaires. It's like going before aking in some ways. In others I fancy it's more like meeting a lion inthe street. Anyway, I've always wanted to meet a king, a lion and amillionaire and here's where I meet one of them. Ever meet one?" Heturned to Coles. 

"Meet which?" Coles smiled. "King, lion or millionaire?"

"Millionaire. "

"No, can't say that I have, though I doubt if we'd either of usrecognize one if we should meet him on the street. Someone has said thathumanity is everywhere much the same and I fancy that's true even ofvery rich folks. They may try to bluff you with their power but if theyfind they can't do that, I guess they'll turn out to have the samedreams, the same hopes and fears, the same joys and sorrows as the restof us. "

"Do you think so?" said Curlie thoughtfully. "I hope that's true. Itwould be a good thing for the world if it were true and if all thepeople in the world knew it. 

"Well, good night. " He drew on his cap. "See you in about sixteen hours. Guess it'll take me that long to catch up my sleep. After that I'm goingafter that fellow who's breaking in on 1200, that fellow over at thehotel with the whispering friend, or enemy, whichever she may turn outto be. "

Had he but known it, it was to be many days before he was to go afterthat offender on the 1200 meter wave lengths and then it was to be inways of which he had not yet dreamed. And so he slept. 

When he awoke after fourteen hours of refreshing sleep, it was to hearthe newsies crying their evening papers. For some time he lay therelistening to their shrill shouts and attempting to catch what they weresaying. 

"Ex-tree! All about--" He could get that far, probably because he hadheard it so often before, but no further could he go. The remainder wasa jumble of meaningless sounds. 

Suddenly, as he listened, a shrill urchin shouted the words out directlybeneath his very window:

"Wul--ex-tree! All about the mur-der-ed millionaire's son!"

"Here! Here!" exclaimed Curlie, thrusting his head out of the window. "What millionaire's son? Give me one of those papers. " He tossed the boya nickel and received a tightly wrapped paper. Sent through the windowas if shot from a catapult, it landed with a bump on the floor. 

His hand trembled so he could scarcely unroll the paper. His headwhirled. 

"Murdered?" he said to himself. "Millionaire's son murdered? Can it beVincent Ardmore? Did a bullet from my automatic, glancing from thewheel, inflict a mortal wound?"

He saw himself behind prison bars in murderer's row. 

Cold perspiration stood out on his brow as he read in staring headlines:

 "J. ANSON ARDMORE'S SON BELIEVED MURDERED. "

"Believed?" He caught at that single word as a camel in a desert snapsat a straw. So they were not sure. 

Hastily he read the column through, then dropped limply into a chair. 

"Oh! What a shock!" he breathed. 

He was vastly relieved. The article stated that the car belonging to themillionaire's son had been found by a laborer employed on the estate ashe came to his work very early in the morning. The car, which was badlysmashed up, bore the mark of a bullet in a rear tire and one in thelower part of the body. It was believed that the young man, beingpursued by bandits and having attempted to escape, had had his carriddled by bullets and had been thrown into the ditch. 

"There are grave reasons for supposing, " the article went on to state, "since no trace of the young man has yet been found, that he has beeneither kidnapped for ransom or, having been killed by a stray bullet, has been buried somewhere in the forest preserve. 

"Bands of armed men are searching the woods and every available policeofficer and detective has been put on the case. A reward of $5, 000 hasbeen offered by the father for any information which may lead to thediscovery of the whereabouts of his son. "

"Whew!" exclaimed Curlie, mopping his brow. "What a rumpus!"

Suddenly he sat up straight. "Doesn't say one word about that wirelessapparatus in the car. How about that?"

He sat with wrinkled brow for a moment. 

"Ah!" he slapped his knee, "I have it! The laborer of course camedirectly to his master. The shrewd old millionaire, guessing that hisson had been breaking radio laws, had all of that equipment removedbefore the public was let in on the deal. He bribed the laborer tosecrecy on that point and there you are. "

Again his brow wrinkled. "Five thousand dollars!" he whispered. "That'sa lot of money. I could supply some valuable information which mightentitle me to the five thousand. Question is, do I want to risk it? Thething that's happened is about this, far as I can figure it out: Ouryoung amateur radio friend, when his auto turned turtle, hiked off intothe woods. For a time he stayed there. Then, when nothing happened forsome time, he came sneaking back. When he found I'd taken his numberplate and some parts of his radio equipment, he guessed right away thatI was connected with the radio secret service. He's hiding right now, unless I miss my guess, with some of his rich young friends. 

"I might tell all that and I might get the reward, but supposingsomething really had happened? Oh, boy, what a mess!

"And yet, " he mused, after a moment, "I've done nothing to be ashamedof. I'm an officer of the law. I did what I did because a fellow wasresisting arrest. Ho, well, I'll just let things stand and simmer. Something may come to the top yet. "

CHAPTER VIII

CURLIE MEETS A MILLIONAIRE

It was a tense situation for Curlie. He spent an uneasy night and thatin spite of the fact that the air was particularly free from trouble. 

"Hang it all, " he exclaimed once as, dashing the receiver from his head, he sprang from his chair to pace the floor of the secret tower room, "I'd welcome something in the line of trouble. This eternalthinking--thinking--thinking, drives me wild. What to do, that's thequestion. Suppose I'd ought to go out and tell Ardmore what I know. If amillionaire father's like any other father, I guess he's pretty wellwrought up by now. But if I go, and if I tell him the whole truth, I'mas sure as I am of anything that it will get me into a mess and that'sthe sort of thing I don't like. "

Glancing down, his eye was caught by Coles' report of the night before. Dropping once more into his chair, he began going through the messageswritten there. When he came to the one sent out by the boy whose car hehad wrecked, he pondered over it for a long time. 

"'Island, airplane, map, much gold; airplane, map, island, gold, '" herepeated. "What does one make out of that? It might be that this boy hasbeen planning a secret voyage with some other chap. Certainly soundslike it. Other messages were the same kind. By Jove! Perhaps he'sskipped out and gone on that trip and is not hiding out at all! Let'ssee. "

Taking down a file he drew forth a bunch of message records clippedtogether. They were those sent by the moving operator on 600, themillionaire's son. 

A long time he studied over these. 

"Seems to sort of prove my theory, " he muttered once. "Can't be surethough. "

Then, suddenly he sat up straight. "That's the idea. " He slapped hisknee. "The very thing! Why didn't I think of that before? If hedoesn't shew up by morning I'll do it. I'll just take these records overto Ardmore and suggest to him that they may shed some light on thesubject. Don't need to tell him I was in on the wrecking of the car atall. That wouldn't help any. These records might. And if I can help tofind him and bring him back, then, oh, boy! Oh you baby fortune! Fivethousand big, red, round dollars!"

He sat back trying to measure the meaning of the possession of fivethousand dollars which did not have to be spent for bed, board andclothing. At last he gave it up in despair. 

The morning papers assured the interested city that the son of theirmoney king was still missing. To make sure that this report was correct, Curlie called up the mansion and inquired about it. When he learned thatit was indeed true, he requested the servant who answered the telephoneto inform the millionaire that a representative of the Secret Service ofthe Air would arrive at his residence with copies of certain radiophonemessages sent out by his son previous to his mysterious disappearance, which might shed some light on the subject. 

Shortly after that he leaped into the driver's seat on the Humming Birdand motored away to the west. 

Arrived at the Forest Preserve, he backed the car into the desertedroadway in the forest at the very spot where he and Joe had concealedthemselves the night of the race. 

"Have to leave you here, old thing, " he whispered. "If a fellow were topull up that driveway in such a rakish craft as you are, they mightthink him crazy and throw him out. 

"Well here goes, " he whispered to himself, as, having rounded the lastclump of decorative shrubbery, he came in sight of the red stonemansion. 

"Whew! What a stunner!" whispered Curlie to himself. 

The sun was tipping the parapets of that mansion with gold; the dewsparkled on the perfectly kept green. It was indeed a beautifulpicture. 

Tiptoeing up the steps, he was about to lift the heavy bronze knockerwhen a porter opened the door and motioned him to enter. 

"Are you the man?" he asked in a low tone. 

"I'm the boy who wired about the messages. "

"Step right this way. He's waiting. "

Curlie's heart beat fast. Was he to be ushered at once into the augustpresence of the magnate? He had pictured to himself hours of waiting, interviews by private secretaries and all that. 

And yet here he was. In a large room furnished in rich mahogany, seemingly the rich man's home office, he was being greeted by a stout, broad-shouldered, brisk and healthy-looking man who was assuring himthat he was speaking to J. Anson Ardmore himself and inviting him to sitdown. 

With his head in a whirl, he managed to get himself into a chair. Andall this while he was telling himself things; things like this:"Curlie, old boy, this is going to be strenuous. This man is powerful, magnetic, almost hypnotizing. He will find out as much as he can fromyou. He will tell as little as is necessary to attain his end. To himall life is a game, a game in which he conceals much and discovers allthat lies in his opponent's hand. He probably knows you have the goodson his son. Perhaps he is merely playing a game about this vanishingson. He may know where he is all the time. If so, he'll want to knowwhat you know, and what you are going to do. You must be wise--wise as aserpent. "

"Well?" the magnate spoke in a brisk way. "My butler tells me you havesome messages. "

"Yes, sir. "

"Sent by my missing son?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And may I ask, " the magnate's face was a mask, not a muscle moved, "howyou happened to be in possession of these messages?"

Curlie could hear his own heart beat, but he held his ground. "Since Iam attached to the government radiophone staff, it is my duty to catchand record all unfair and illegally sent messages, to record them asevidence and for future reference. "

Curlie fancied he saw the man start. The words that followed were spokenstill in a cold, collected tone. 

"These messages you say were unfair?"

"Unfair and illegally sent. "

"How illegal?"

"They were sent with exceedingly high power and on 600 meter wavelengths. Such high power is unlawful for all amateurs and the use of 600is granted to ships and ship stations alone. 

"Ah!"

For a second the man appeared to reflect. Then suddenly:

"We are wasting time. My son has mysteriously disappeared. I have reasonto fear foul play. Let me assure you that I know nothing about hiswhereabouts and, previous to this moment, that I have known nothingregarding these illegally sent messages. "

"But--" began Curlie. 

"You doubt my word, " his voice grew stern and hard as he read theincredulity in Curlie's eyes. "Young man, " he fairly thundered, "fixthis in your mind: No man ever has risen or ever will rise to my presentposition through treachery or deceit. When I say a thing is so, bythunder it _is_ so!"

He struck his desk a terrific blow. 

"But a--"

Curlie caught himself just in time. He had been about to reveal the factthat he was aware of the presence of the wireless set in the auto thenight the millionaire's son disappeared. 

"I can't see just how your messages could aid us in finding my son. " Themagnate spoke more calmly. "However, all things are possible. May I seethe copies?"

"Of course, " said Curlie, hesitatingly, "this is a private matter. Fewpersons know of our service. It is the desire of the government thatthey should not know. These are not for publication. Do you understandthat?"

"You have my word. "

Curlie passed the sheath of papers over the desk. 

Slowly, one by one, the great man read them. His movement was nothurried. He digested every word. Like many another great man he hadformed the habit of gathering, as far as possible, the full meaning ofany set of facts by his own careful research, before allowing hisopinion to be influenced by others. 

He had gone half through the pack when a door over at the right openedand a girl, dressed in some filmy stuff which brought out the smoothnessof her neck and arms and the beauty of her complexion, entered the room. 

Curlie caught his breath. It was the girl he had seen on the horse thatmorning, the magnate's daughter. 

She had advanced halfway to her father's desk before she became aware ofCurlie's presence. Then she started back with a stammered: "I--I begyour pardon. "

"It's all right. " The first smile Curlie had seen on the great man'sface now curved about his mouth. "You may remain. This is no secretchamber. "

"Fa--father, " she faltered, gripping at her throat, "does he know--knowanything--about--about Vincent?"

"I can't tell yet. I am going over the messages. Please be seated. "

The girl sank into a deep leather-cushioned chair. Without looking ather Curlie was aware of the fact that she was studying him, perhapstrying to make up her mind where she had seen him before. This made himexceedingly uncomfortable. He was greatly relieved when at last themagnate spoke. 

"Gladys, " he addressed the girl, "did you say you found some sort of mapin Vincent's room?"

"Oh, yes, " she sprang to her feet. "A photograph of a very strangelooking map and also one of some queer foreign writing. "

"Will you run and get those photographs?"

"Yes, father. "

"It's strange, " the older man mused after she had gone. "I don'tunderstand it at all. These messages, they are--"

"If you please--" Curlie broke in. 

"Wait!" commanded the other, holding up his hand for silence. "Let ushave no opinions before all of the evidence is in. That map may aid usin forming correct conclusions. "

CHAPTER IX

A MYSTERIOUS MAP

It was indeed a curious map which had been reproduced on the largephotographic print which Gladys Ardmore placed on the desk before herfather. 

Motioning Curlie to come forward and examine it with them, the magnaterose from his chair to bend over the map. As Curlie stood there lookingdown at it, the girl in her eagerness bent down so close to him that hefelt her warm breath on his cheek. 

Nothing, however, could have drawn his gaze from that map. Wrinkled, torn in places, patched, browned with age, smirched by many fingermarks, all of which were faithfully reproduced by the freshly printedphotograph, it still gave promise of revealing many a mystery if onecould but read it correctly. 

It showed both land and water. Here on the land was a picture of acastle and there on the water a ship. The shore of the land was notdrawn as are maps with which we are in these days familiar, but was cutup in curious geometric forms which surely could not faithfullyrepresent the true lines of the shore. Towns were shown, but only on theshoreline, their names printed in by hand in such small letters as wouldrequire a magnifying glass to read them. Crossing and recrossing thewater in every conceivable direction were innumerable straight lines. About the edge of the map were eight faces of children. Their cheekspuffed out as if blowing, they appeared to represent the wind that blewfrom certain quarters. 

All the writing was in some foreign language. In the lower left-handcorner was what appeared to be the name of the maker but this was soblotted out as to be unreadable. 

"Huh!" The magnate straightened up. "That's a strange map and appears tobe very ancient, but I can hardly see how it is going to help us withour present problem. "

"There is still the writing, " suggested Gladys, turning over the otherphotograph. 

"That, " said Mr. Ardmore, after a moment's study of it, "is written insome strange tongue and is, I take it, unintelligible to us all. "

"It's a photograph of the back of the map, " suggested Curlie, pointingout certain spots where the wrinkles and tears were the same. 

"My French teacher will be here at ten o'clock. He knows severallanguages. Perhaps he could help us, " suggested Gladys. 

"We will leave that to him, " said her father. "Now about thesemessages, " he went on, turning to Curlie. "What is your theory?"

Stammeringly Curlie proceeded to explain the idea which had come to him, the notion that Vincent Ardmore and some pal of his had been planning asecret trip of some sort. 

"That is entirely possible, " said Ardmore. "Vincent is daring, even rashat times. If some wild fancy leaped into his head, he would attemptanything. Now that you speak of it, I do think there might be somethingin your theory. Perhaps after all we may get some light from that mapand the writing on the back of it. I shall await the coming of theprofessor with much anxiety. "

"Father, " exclaimed Gladys, "I have seen some such maps as this one atsome other place. "

"Where?"

"It was over at that big library, the one you are a director of. "

"The Newtonian?"

"Yes. I was over there once and they showed me a great number of ancientmaps. Oh, a very great number, and such strange affairs as they were!There were some similar to this one. I know there were!"

"Young man, " said the magnate, turning to Curlie, "may I command yourservices on this matter for the day?"

Curlie bowed. 

"Good! You will not be unrewarded. I am of the opinion that somethingmay be learned by a study of the maps my daughter speaks of. Unfortunately I am engaged; I cannot go to the library. Would it beasking too much were I to request that you accompany her?"

Curlie assured him it would not. In his heart of hearts he assuredhimself that it would be a great privilege. 

"Very well then, Gladys, " the magnate bowed to his daughter, "I suggestthat you plan on being back here at eleven. By that time your Frenchteacher may have something to tell us. "

Bowing to them both, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. 

As the neat little town car, which was apparently Gladys Ardmore'sexclusive property, hurried them away toward the north side library, Curlie had time to think and to steal a look now and then at his fairhostess. 

Matters had been going rather rapidly of late. He found it difficult tokeep up with the march of events. What should be his next move? He wastorn between two conflicting interests: his loyalty to the radio secretservice bureau and his desire to be of service to this girl and herfather. The girl, as he stole a glance at her, appeared disturbed andtroubled. There was a tenseness about the lines of her mouth, a droop toher eyelids. "For all the world as if she were in some way to blame forwhat has happened, " he told himself. 

Instantly the question popped into his mind: "Does she know more thanshe cares to tell?" He thought of the wireless equipment which had beenremoved from the wrecked car before the reporters had arrived. Thelaborer would hardly do that without orders from someone. Who had thatsomeone been? The millionaire had denied all knowledge of the radiophonemessages. Curlie believed that he had told the truth. Here was an addedmystery. He was revolving this in his mind when the girl spoke:

"It must be very interesting listening in. "

"Listening in?" Curlie feigned ignorance of her meaning. 

"Yes, isn't that what you do? Listen in on radio all the time?"

Curlie started. How did she know?

"Why, yes, since you've asked, that is my work. "

"Where--where--" she hesitated, "is your station?"

"That, " smiled Curlie, "is a state secret; very few know where it is. "

"Oh!" she breathed. "A mystery?"

Curlie nodded. 

"Something like that. "

"I love mysteries, " she whispered. "I love to unravel them. Some day Ishall surprise you. I shall come walking into that secret room ofyours. " There was a look on her face that he had not seen there before. It was disturbing. It spoke of a quality which, he concluded, she hadinherited from her father, the quality of firmness and determination, which had made him great. 

"I--I'd rather you wouldn't try, " he almost stammered. 

"Oh! here we are, " she exclaimed, "at the library. "

Leaping out of the car she led the way up the broad steps of animposing gray stone structure. 

"Down this way, " she whispered, as if awed by the vast fund of knowledgestowed away between those walls. Without further words they made theirway within. 

Ten minutes later they were together bending over a great pile ofancient maps. Done on sheepskin and vellum, gray and brown with age, yetwith colors as bright as on the day they were drawn, these maps spoke ofan age that was gone and of a map-making art that is lost forever. 

"Look at this one!" exclaimed the girl. "The date's on it--1450. Madebefore the days of Columbus. And look! It is like the one Vincent hadthe photograph of; the most like of any. "

"Yes, but not the same, " said Curlie. "See, those strangely shapedislands in the lower, right-hand corner are not on it; neither are thecherubs blowing to imitate the wind. "

"That's true, " said the girl in a disappointed tone, "I had hoped itmight be the same map. It might have told us something. "

Suddenly Curlie was struck with an idea. Leaving the girl's side, heapproached the librarian. 

"Have any of these maps been photographed recently?" he asked in a lowtone. 

"Not for several years, " she answered. "But there are reproductions ofthese and others. They're in a bound volume in the next room. There themaps are reproduced on a large scale and a description of each is given. The lady in charge will show you. "

Curlie tiptoed into that room. He was soon turning the pages of a largebook which resembled an atlas. 

After studying each successive page for some time, he came to a haltwith a suppressed exclamation. 

There, staring up at him, was a reproduction of the very map which hadbeen photographed for Vincent Ardmore and, if further proof werelacking, there on the opposite page was a reproduction of the writingon the back of it, with a translation in fine print below. 

Hurriedly he read this translation through. Twice he paused in utterastonishment. Three times he wrote down a brief note on a scrap ofpaper. When he had finished, he looked at the lower left-hand corner ofthe map, then copied some figures reproduced there. 

Closing the book quickly, as if afraid the girl would find him lookingat it, he paused for a second to banish all sign of excitement from hisface, then walked leisurely from the room. 

"Find anything?" he asked in as quiet a tone as he could command. 

"No, " there was a tired and worried look in her eyes. "I'm afraid themap is not here. "

"By the way, " he said in a casual way, "does your brother happen to havea pal living at Landensport on the coast?"

"Why, yes, " she said quickly, "that's Alfred Brightwood. They were chumsin Brimward Academy. "

"I thought that might be so. "

"And you think--think--" she faltered. 

"What we think, " he smiled a disarming smile, "doesn't count for much. It's facts which really matter. Excuse me; I'll be back in a moment, " hesaid hurriedly. "Want to telephone. "

In the booth of the library he conversed long and earnestly with hischief. 

"Why, yes, " came over the phone at last, "I don't see but that you hadbetter finish the thing up. We can't let rich young offenders offeasily. It would destroy the service entirely. Go ahead. Coles Masterscan handle the station while you are away. "

The interview ended, he got Joe Marion on the wire. 

"Joe, " he said hurriedly, "throw some of my things into a bag and someof your own with them. Be down at the Lake Shore station at one-fifteenprepared for a short trip. Where to? Oh, New York and then some. It'simportant and interesting. Be there! Good. Good-bye till then. " Hesnapped down the receiver and hurriedly left the booth. 

"Shall we go back?" he asked the girl. 

"I suppose we might as well, " she said dejectedly. Then brighteningsuddenly, "Yes, let's hurry back. Perhaps the professor has found outsomething from that queer old writing. "

CHAPTER X

THE FIRST LAP OF A LONG JOURNEY

On the way back to the Ardmore home both the girl and her escort weresilent for some time. Then, turning to her, Curlie asked:

"Has this friend of your brother's--Brightwood, did you say his namewas?--has he a seaplane?"

"Is that an airplane which flies up from the ocean and lights upon itwhen one wishes it to?"

"Yes. "

"He has one of those. Yes, I'm sure of it. He wanted to take me for aride out over the sea last summer. "

"And is he what you would call a daring chap, ready to attemptanything?"

"Why, yes, he is; but--but how do you know so many things?"

"It is my duty to know. "

Again he lapsed into silence. On arriving at the estate they foundGladys' father in a strange state of agitation. 

"Just received a telegram from an old and trusted friend who is on thecoast of Maine. He says Vincent has been seen there within the lasttwenty-four hours. What that can mean I haven't the faintest notion. Ishould go there at once but business makes it entirely impossible. "

"Under one condition, " said Curlie soberly, "I will go East and attemptto bring your son home. Indeed, I shall go anyway; have already arrangedtransportation, in fact, and leave in two hours; but it would please meif I might go with your approval. "

"You have arranged to go?" The older man's face expressed hisastonishment. "For what purpose?"

"On a commission for the government. "

"And you wish my permission for what?"

"To bring your son back with a warrant, under arrest. "

The older man looked at Curlie for a moment as if to discover whether ornot he was joking. 

"Young man, " he said slowly, "do you know who I am?"

"You are J. Anson Ardmore, one of the richest men of the Middle West. "

"And do you know that I could crush you with my influence?"

"No, sir, I do not. " Curlie drew himself up to his full height. "Thosedays are gone forever. I am part of the United States government, thegovernment which has made it possible for you to gain your wealth. Herlaws must be obeyed. You could not crush me and, what is still moreimportant, you have no notion of doing so. "

"What?" The magnate's face became a study, then it broke into a smile. "I like your spirit, " he said seizing Curlie's hand in a viselike grip. "You have the power of the law behind you; you need no consent of mine. But so be it; if my son has broken the law, he shall suffer thepenalty. "

"There is one other matter, " said Curlie soberly. "At the present momentit is merely a theory. I am unable to offer any worth-while proof forit, but it is my belief that your son and his chum, Alfred Brightwood, are considering a very perilous seaplane journey. Indeed, they may evenat this moment be on their way. If that is true they should be followedat once in some swift traveling vessel, for they are almost certain tomeet with disaster. "

"That Brightwood boy will be the death of us all yet, " exploded thefather. "For sheer foolhardy daring I have never known his equal. Timeand again I have attempted to persuade Vincent to give up associatingwith him, but it has been of no avail. Alfred appears to hold somestrange hypnotic power over him. "

For a moment he stood there in silence. When he spoke he was again thesober, thoughtful business man. 

"If what you say is true, and you find that they have already departedon this supposed journey, my private yacht is at your disposal. It liesin the mouth of the river at Landensport. The captain and engineer areon board. You will need no further crew. She is the fastest privateengine-driven yacht afloat. If necessity demands, do not hesitaterisking her destruction, but you will not, of course, endanger your ownlife. "

"All right; then I guess everything is settled. You will wireinstructions to the captain of the yacht. I must hurry to my train. "Curlie hastened from the room. 

Joe was awaiting Curlie at the depot. Filled with an eager desire toknow what was to be the nature of this new adventure, he could waitscarcely long enough to buy tickets, reserve sleeper berths, and toboard the train before demanding full details. 

The train was a trifle slow in pulling out. As he outlined the situationto Joe, Curlie kept an eye out of the window. Once he caught sight of aslight girlish figure which seemed familiar. He could not be sure, soheavily veiled was her face. 

He had quite forgotten the incident when, a few hours later, he enteredthe diner for his evening lunch. What then was his surprise, onentering, to see Gladys Ardmore calmly seated at a table and nibbling ata bun. 

She motioned him to a seat opposite her. 

"You didn't expect to have me for a fellow-passenger, did you?" shesmiled. 

Curlie shook his head. 

"Well, I didn't expect to go until the last moment. Then the professorcame with the translation of the writing on the map all written out. Father thought you should have it, so he sent me with it. I arrived justin time and decided all at once that I ought to--Oh, that I wanted--thatI _must_ go with you. " There was a pathetic catch in her voice that wentstraight to Curlie's heart. 

"After all, " he told himself, "he's her brother and that means a lot. "

When he looked at her the next moment he discovered there the strangelydetermined look which was so like her father's, and which he had seenonce before on her face. 

"Here is the translation, " she said simply as she passed over a roll ofpaper. "Order your dinner; we will have plenty of time to look over thepapers later. "

"She's a most determined and composed little piece of humanity, " wasCurlie's mental comment. "I don't like her following me, but since she'shere I suppose I better make the best of it!"

Had he known how far she would follow him and what adventures she wasdestined to share with him, he might have been tempted to wire herfather to call her back. Since he did not know, he ordered meat-pie, French fried potatoes, English tea biscuits, cocoa and apple pie, thensettled himself down to talk of trivial matters until the meal was over. 

When at last he saw the waiter remove the girl's finger bowl, Curlie putout his hand for the paper. The hand trembled a trifle. Truth was, hewas more eager than he was willing to admit to read the Frenchteacher's translation of the writing on the back of the map. 

Now as he held it in his hand one question came to the forefront in hismind: Was this photograph a reproduction of the map that had looked somuch like it, the one in the great volume at the library? Thetranslation would dear up that point. 

But then it might not be, he reasoned. The book said that the originalof this map had belonged to an English lord something like a hundredyears ago; that it had disappeared and nothing had been heard of itsince. 

"The professor said, " smiled the girl, a trifle anxiously, "that thewriting was in very, very old Spanish and for that reason he might nothave understood every word of it correctly but that taking it all in allhe thought he had made the meaning clear. "

"We'll have a look, " said Curlie, unfolding the paper. 

"He said it was the photograph of a very unusual manuscript, rare andvaluable. " There was something about the way the girl said this whichled Curlie to guess that she might know who was in possession of theoriginal. He was, however, too much excited over the first lines of thetranslation to ask her any questions. 

"The Island of Lagos. " He read the title to himself. Beneath this inbrackets were the words:

"Being the account of how the good ship Torence was cast ashore on anunknown island in the midst of the great sea; an island whereon thereare many barbarians having much gold. "

Curlie caught his breath. Save for one word the translation was the sameas that he had read in the book. That word was of no consequence. 

"It's the same map!" he told himself. "The very same!"

The girl, leaning over the table, watched him eagerly. She was bothexcited and elated over the find. 

"Isn't it wonderful?" she exclaimed, clasping her hands. "I think it'sgreat! And to think that my brother and his chum were the ones whofound it!"

"Haven't read it all, " Curlie mumbled. 

"Then read on. Read it all. Please do. "

CHAPTER XI

"MANY BARBARIANS AND MUCH GOLD"

Curlie, obeying her instructions, read on and with every line hisconviction grew stronger that the conclusions he had come to were wellformed. 

This is what he read:

"Having spent Good Friday with his family, our captain, deeming furtherdelay but loss of time, determined to cast anchor and sail for the coastof Ireland. Here he hoped to do a brisk business at barter with thepeasants and fisher-folk who inhabit the shores. 

"But Providence had determined otherwise. Hardly had we been from shorea half day's journey, when, without warning, from out the night thererose a great tumult. This tumult, coming as it did from the shore, grasped us in its mighty arms and hurled us league by league indirections that we would not go. And being exceedingly tossed with thetempest we lightened the ship. On the fourth day we, with our own hand, cast out the tackle of the ship. And when not sun nor moon nor stars hadappeared for many days, we counted ourselves for lost; for, having beencarried straight away these many days, we expected nothing but that wewould come soon to that dark and dreadful place which is the end of allland and all seas. "

"Isn't it wonderful?" whispered the girl. 

Curlie was too much absorbed to answer her. 

"When we had given up all hope, " he read on, "Markus Laplone, a very oldseaman, said we were nearing some land. 

"We took soundings and found it forty fathoms. Then again it was thirty. Then with hopeful hearts we looked for that land. But when at last itbroke through the fog it was no land that any of the men had seen, no, not the oldest seaman. 

"But fearing to be cast upon rocks, we kept a good watch that we mightfind some harbor. At last we were rewarded, for to the right of us therewas a river flowing into the sea. 

"The storm having somewhat abated, we took oars, such as had not beenbroken by the storm, and some with two men to the oar and some with butone, we made shift to enter this river; having accomplished which, wedropped anchor and gave thanks to God for the preservation of our lives. 

"Now, on coming on shore we found this to be indeed a strange land. Notalone were the trees and all vegetation of a sort unknown to us, but thebarbarians who came about us were of a complexion such as not one man ofus had ever before beheld. 

"And, what was more astounding, as we made a fire to cook us food, therepassed by us bearing on their backs strangely woven baskets, a caravanof these half-naked barbarians. And, when we motioned to show them wewould see within his basket, one of these lowered his basket. 

"What we saw astounded us much, for it was all filled with finely-beatengold. The fellow had as much of it as a stout sailor would be able tocarry. And there were many such baskets. 

"When I made as though I would take the gold, he became very angry, andwould have struck me down with an ugly spear which he bore. 

"But when I laughed, making as though it were a joke, he gave me a smallpiece, the which is at this time in my possession, as proof that what Ihave written here is truth and no lie. 

"Now this island I have shown on the map, the nether side upon which Iam writing, as a star with six points to it; though the shore markingnor the extent of the island is as yet unknown to any but thosebarbarians who live upon it. "

There ended the main portion of the story, but in a bracket at thebottom was written:

"In some other place will be found the account of our miraculous returnfrom this strange and mysterious island of many barbarians and muchgold. "

As Curlie finished, he glanced up with a sigh. 

The girl was staring at him so intently that he could not but think shewas attempting to read his thoughts. 

"Isn't it wonderful?" she breathed at last. 

"Yes, " said Curlie quickly, "you expressed it even better before. It'sgreat!"

He looked away. His head was in a whirl It was the long-lost map; he wassure of that now. He remembered the figures he had copied from thatother reproduction. They were blurred and unreadable on this one. Shouldhe tell her?

His lips opened but no sound came out. No, he would not tell her, not atthis time. There might be some other way. 

"Your brother and his chum, " he said evenly, "have gone in search ofthat island of gold. "

She stared at him in silence. 

"If they haven't gone already, they may be gone before we reach thecoast, " he continued. "They will probably go in Alfred Brightwood'sseaplane. "

"Yes, yes, " she broke her spell of silence. "That is the way they wouldgo. It's--it's a wonderful plane! You--you don't think anything couldhappen to them, do you?"

"Supposing they do not find the island?"

"But they will. "

"It is to be hoped that they will find an island--some island. "

"It's a wonderful plane. It would cross the Atlantic!" She clasped andunclasped her hands. 

"But supposing, " he rose from his chair in his excitement, "supposingthey don't find the island exactly where they expect to find it?Supposing, in their eagerness to find that gold, they circle and circleand circle in search of the island until there is no longer any gas inthe tank to bring them home. "

"Oh, you don't think that!" She sprang to her feet and, gripping hisarm to steady herself, looked up into his eyes. There was aheartbreaking appeal in those blue eyes of hers. 

"I think, " said Curlie steadily, "that my pal, Joe Marion, and I, if wefind them gone when we get there, will take your father's speedy yachtand go for a little pleasure trip in the general direction they havetaken. Then if they chance to get into trouble, we can give them a lift. Besides, " there came a twinkle in his eye, which was wholly lost on thegirl, "they might need the yacht to carry home the gold. "

"Oh, will you?" she exclaimed, gripping his arm until it hurt. "Thatwill be grand of you. For you know, " she faltered, "I--I feel a littlebit responsible for what they have done and if anything should happen Icould never forgive myself. I--I'll tell you about it some time. "

For a moment they stood there in silence, she steadying herself from therock of the train by clinging to his arm. 

"I think, " she said soberly, "if you go in father's yacht, that I shallgo along with you. "

"And I think, " said Curlie in a decided tone, "that you won't. "

She said not another word but had he taken a look at her face just thenhe would have found there the expression that he had seen there before, the expression which she had inherited from her father, the self-mademillionaire. 

That night in his berth, as the train rushed along on its eastwardjourney, Curlie narrated to Joe Marion all the events which had led upto the present moment, and as much of his conclusions as he had told toGladys Ardmore. 

"So you see, Joe, old boy, " he concluded, "if those young millionairesare away before we arrive we're destined to take a little trip which mayhave an adventure or two in it; that is, at least I will. "

"Count me in, " said Joe soberly. "I go anywhere you do. "

"Good!" exclaimed Curlie, gripping his hand. "And in the end, " heconcluded, "I think we shall have told the world in a rather effectiveway that the air must be free for the important messages; that Uncle Samhas the right of way in the air as well as on land or sea and that hehas ways of defending those rights. "

At that they turned over, to lie there listening to the click-click ofwheels over rails until sleep claimed them. 

CHAPTER XII

OUT TO SEA IN A COCKLESHELL

Darkness was falling when at last Curlie and Joe reached the station atLandensport. In spite of the fact that they had had no supper and wereweary from travel, Curlie insisted on going at once to the hangar wherethe _Stormy Petrel_, Alfred Brightwood's seaplane, was kept. 

"Yes, " said the keeper of the hangar, "they hopped off six hours ago. Seemed to be preparing for somethin' of a journey; they filled the tankswith gas and loaded her cabin full of things to eat. Some sort of apicnic, I reckon. Strange part of it was, " he said reflectively, "Iwatched 'em as they went and sure's I'm standin' here they shot out tosea, straight as an arrow, and far as you could see 'em they was goingright on. Couldn't be tryin' to cross the Atlantic, but you can nevertell what'll get into that Brightwood boy's head. He's darin', he is. Jest some picnic, though, I reckon. "

"Some picnic all right!" said Curlie emphatically. "Some picnic for allof us!"

"Eh? What?" the keeper turned on him quickly. 

Curlie did not answer. 

"Vincent Ardmore went with him, I suppose, " Curlie said after a moment'ssilence. 

"Of course. Just them two. "

"Was the plane equipped with wireless?"

"Yes. They spent two days tending to that; seemed to be mightyparticular about it. "

"Yes, of course they would. "

"Eh? What?" the man turned sharply about. 

Curlie was silent again. 

"It's funny about them wireless rigs for a plane, " said the keeper atlast. "You git your ground by hanging a wire seventy-five er a hundredfeet down from the plane, then you get ground just the same as if thewire was dragging through the sea, don't matter whether you're up ahundred miles or five thousand. Strange stuff, this radio. "

"Yes, " said Curlie, "it is. By the way, " he exclaimed suddenly, "do youknow about this new Packard-Prentiss equipment?"

"Yes, sir; was tryin' one out only yesterday. Fine thing. "

"Reliable?"

"Absolutely. "

"Know where I can get one?"

"Over at Dorrotey's sea-goods store on the dock. He's got one er two forsale. "

"Thanks. " He and Joe started away. 

"Next place is Dock No. 3. The _Kittlewake_, the Ardmore yacht, is tiedup over there. Unless I miss my guess we'll be off to sea in less thantwo hours, " said Curlie to Joe. "Speed's the word now. Those two youngdreamers have gotten away by plane. We've got to stand by in the_Kittlewake_ or they'll never be seen again. I don't propose to allowthe sea to rob me of my first important offender against the laws of theair. "

"By the way, " said Joe, "where is Gladys Ardmore? I haven't seen hersince we left New York. "

"I don't know and I'm glad I don't, " said Curlie. "She let fall a remarkin the dining car that I didn't like. She said she thought she'd goalong with us on this trip. A five hundred mile trip straight out to seain a fifty-foot pleasure yacht with a fifteen-foot beam, is no sort oftrip for a girl. I was afraid she'd try to insist. That would havecaused a scene, for unless I miss my guess she's the determined sortlike her father. "

"It's queer she gave us up so quickly. "

"Yes, but I'm glad she did. "

Suddenly Curlie started. As they rounded a corner he caught sight of atrim, slender figure. This girl had been standing in the light of a shopwindow. Now she dodged inside. 

"Huh!" he grunted. "Thought that looked like her, but of course itcouldn't be. Some ship captain's daughter probably. "

They arrived on board the _Kittlewake_ just as the captain, a red-facedold British salt, and the engineer, a silent man who was fully as slimand wiry of build as Curlie himself, were finishing lunch. 

"Pardon me, " said Curlie, "but did you get Mr. Ardmore's wire?"

"You're this wireless man, Curlie Carson?" asked the captain. 

"Yes. "

"'Is message is 'ere; came this morning. "

"Then you're ready to put off at once. "

"At once!" The captain stared his amazement. "'Ere it is night. At once, 'e says!"

"It's very necessary that we go at once, " said Curlie firmly, "and Ibelieve you have your orders. "

"To be hat your service in hevery particular. "

"All right then, we must be on our way in an hour. "

"Wot course?" The skipper rose to his feet. 

"This is the point we must reach with all speed, " said Curlie, drawingthe photograph of the mysterious old map from his pocket and pointingto the star near the center. "Compare that with your own chart, locateit as well as you can and then mark out your own course. "

The skipper stared at him as though he thought Curlie crazy. 

"That! Why that--"

Turning quickly, he disappeared up the hatch, to return presently with achart. This he placed upon the table, beside the photograph. 

After five minutes of close study he turned an astonished face upon theboy. 

"That, as I 'ave thought, is five 'undred miles hout to sea. Five'undred miles in a cockleshell. Man, you're daft. "

"All right, " said Curlie; "the trip's got to be made. I thought youmight be afraid to undertake it; that's why I wanted to know at once. I'll go out and hunt another skipper. There's surely plenty of them idlethese dull times. "

"Hafraid, did 'e say! Me! Hafraid!" The skipper was purple with rage. "Hafraid 'e says. 'E says it, a bloomin' Yankee kid, an' me as 'as 'adships sunk under me twice by the bloody German submarines! Me, CaptainJarvis, hafraid. "

He turned suddenly upon Curlie. "Go git yer togs an' shake a leg er thebloomin' _Kittlewake_'ll be off without you on board. "

"That's the talk!" smiled Curlie. "Never fear! We'll be here. "

He turned to Joe. "You go ashore and buy us each a suit of roughing-itthings, a so'-wester and the like. We'll need 'em. I'll be back in lessthan an hour. "

When Curlie returned from his mission ashore he carried but one bundle. That resembled a fencepost in size and shape. It was carefully wrappedand sealed in sticky black tar cloth. 

"Going to throw a message overboard in case we're lost, I suppose, "laughed Joe. 

"Something like that, " Curlie laughed back. Nevertheless, he carried thething with great care to his stateroom and deposited it beneath hisberth in the cabin forward on the main deck. 

An hour later the two boys were standing on deck watching the shorelights fade. Each was busy with his own thoughts and wondering, nodoubt, in his own way how much of adventure this trip held for him. 

CHAPTER XIII

A GHOST WALKS

"Ever take much interest in gasoline engines?" Curlie suddenly inquiredof Joe. 

"Yes, quite a bit; had a shift on one of those marine kinds last summeron the Great Lakes. "

"Good! You'll have to take a shift here on the _Kittlewake_. This tripcan't be made without sleep. I'll spell the captain at the wheel and youcan relieve that lanky engineer. "

Again they lapsed into silence. Half unconsciously each boy was takingstock of the craft they had requisitioned, trying to judge whether ornot she was equal to the task she had been put to. Speed she had inplenty. "Do forty knots a 'our, " the skipper put it, "an' never 'eat abearin'. "

She was a trim craft. Narrow of beam, a two-master with a steel hullthat stood well out of the water forward, she rode the water with therepose and high glee of the bird she was named after. 

"Yes, she's a beauty, and a go-getter, " Curlie was thinking to himself, "but in a storm, now, four or five hundred miles from land, what then?"

Had he known how soon his question was to be answered he might well haveshuddered. 

"Better go down and have a look at the engines before you turn in for awink of sleep, " he told Joe. 

When Joe had gone below, Curlie still sat there on the rail aft. Thethrob of the engines beneath him, the rapid rush of air that fanned hischeek, was medicine to his weary brain. He had been caught in awhirlwind of events and here, for a time, he had been cast down in aquiet place where his mind might clear itself of the wreckage of thoughtthat had been torn up and strewn about within it. 

It had been a wild race. He had lost thus far; would he lose in theend? Had he, after all, trusted too much to theory? Had these two sonsof rich men really only gone for some picnic trip to a well-known islandfarther south along the coast? Or had they, as he had assumed, guided bytheir ancient map, gone in search of the island of "many barbarians andmuch gold, " an island which he was convinced existed only in name?

The girl, too; what had she meant when she said she was in some waysresponsible for her brother's actions? There was something queer aboutthe whole affair. Who had taken the wireless equipment from the wreckedcar out there by the Forest Preserve? Did young Ardmore have the ancientoriginal of that interesting map or only the photograph? If he did nothave it, who was in possession of it? Strange thing that it would belost for a hundred years only to have a brand-new photograph of it showup all at once. Rather ghostly, he thought. He had meant to ask GladysArdmore about that. He'd ask her now if she were here. But he was morethan glad she was not here. 

"No trip for a girl, " he told himself, "and she said she'd go. Strangeshe gave it up so easily. Strange that--"

His thoughts broke off suddenly as he stared forward. The _Kittlewake_was equipped with three cabins; a forecastle and aftercabin, both belowthe main deck, built largely for stormy weather, and a fair-weathercabin in the center of the main deck. The night was dark, the moon nothaving come up. It was difficult to distinguish objects at a distance, but, unless his eyes deceived him, Curlie saw some object, all white andghostly, rising slowly from the hatchway leading to the forecastle. Coldperspiration sprang out upon his brow, his heart beat madly, his kneestrembled as he involuntarily moved forward. That was the way he had oftreating ghosts; he walked straight at them. 

In the meantime, had one been on some craft three hundred miles fartheron in the direct course of the _Kittlewake_, he might have caught thethunderous drumming of two powerful Liberty motors. He might also haveseen a spot of light playing constantly upon the black waters. Whilethis light was constant, it moved rapidly forward in a wide circle. Thecircle was never the same in size or location, yet the spot of light didnot move more than twenty miles in any direction from a certain givencenter. The spot of illumination came from a powerful searchlightmounted upon a seaplane. It was manipulated by a boy in the rear seat. Asecond boy drove the plane. These boys, as you have no doubt long sinceguessed, were Vincent Ardmore and his reckless pal, Alfred Brightwood. 

This light had been playing upon the water since darkness had fallen, some three hours before. They had been circling for four hours. Theirhopes of completing their search before dark had been thwarted by adefective engine which had compelled them to make a landing upon the seawhen the journey was only half completed. 

At this particular moment the plane was climbing steadily. It was aperfect "man-bird" of the air, was this _Stormy Petrel_. With broadspreading planes and powerful motors, it was the type of plane that nowand again hops off from some point in England during the dewy morninghours and carries her crew safely to Cuba without a single stop. 

Yet these boys were not planning a trip across to Europe. They were, asCurlie had supposed they might be, hunting for the island of "manybarbarians and much gold. "

When they had mounted to a considerable height, Alfred shut off theengines and allowed her to volplane toward the sea. 

"Aw, let's give it up and get back, " said Vincent downheartedly. "It'snot here. Probably that old map-maker made a mistake of a triflinghundred miles or so. "

"That's a grand idea!" exclaimed Brightwood, grasping at a straw. "Not ahundred miles but perhaps thirty or forty miles. Old boy, we'll becooking lunch on a stove of pure gold in half an hour. You'll see! Justget your light fixed right and I'll take a wider circle. That'll getit. "

"But if we use up much more gas we won't get back to land, " hesitatedVincent. 

"Land! Who wants to get back to land!" the other exploded. "If worstcomes to worst we've got the wireless, haven't we? We can light on thewater and send out an S. O. S. , can't we? I must say you're a mighty bumsailor. "

"Oh, all right, " said Vincent, stung into silence, "go ahead and tryit. "

Again the motors thundered. Again the spot light traced a circular pathacross the dark waters, which to the boy who held the light, appeared tobe reaching up black, fiendish hands to drag them down. This time thecircle they cut was many miles in circumference, miles which drew deeplyfrom the supply of gasoline in their tanks. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE COMING STORM

As Curlie's feet carried him forward on the deck of the _Kittlewake_, his eyes beheld the ghost which rose from the hatch taking on a familiarform. A white middy blouse, short white skirt and a white tarn, worn bya slender girl, moved forward to meet him. As the form came into thesquare of light cast by a cabin window, his lips framed her name:

"Gladys Ardmore!"

"Why, yes, " she smiled, "didn't you expect me? I told you I thought I'dgo. "

"And I said you should not. " Her coolness angered him. 

"You forget that this is my father's boat. A man's daughter shouldalways be a welcome guest on his boat. "

"But--but that's not it, " he hesitated. "This is not a pleasure trip. We are going five hundred miles straight to sea in a boat intended forshore travel. It's likely to storm. " He sniffed the air and held hischeek to the breeze that was already breaking the water into littlechoppy waves. "It is going to be dangerous. "

"But you are going, " she said soberly, "to the assistance of my brother. I have a better right than you to risk my life to save my own brother. Ican be of assistance to you. Truly, I can. I can be the galley cook. "

"You a cook?" He looked his surprise. 

"Certainly. Do you think a rich man's daughter can do nothing but playtennis and pour tea? Those times are gone, if indeed they ever existed. I am as able to do things as is your sister, if you have one. "

"But, " said Curlie suddenly, "I am going from a sense of duty. Havingset out to have your brother arrested I mean to do it. "

For a full moment she stared at him stupefied. Then she said slowly, through set, white lips: "You wouldn't do that?"

"Why shouldn't I?" His tone was more gentle. "He has broken the laws ofthe air. Time and again he sent messages on 600, a radio wave lengthreserved to coast and ship service alone. He has hindered sea trafficand once narrowly escaped being the death of brave men at sea. "

"Oh, " she breathed, sinking down upon a coil of cable, "I--didn't knowit was as bad as that. And I--I--knew all about it. I--I--"

She did not finish but sat there staring at him. At last she spokeagain. Her tone was strained and husky with emotion. 

"You--you'll want to arrest me too when you know the truth. "

"You'll not be dragged into it unless you insist. "

"But I do insist!" She sprang to her feet. Her nails digging into herclenched fists, she faced him. Her eyes were bright and terrible. 

"Do you think, " she fairly screamed, "that I would be part of a thingthat was wrong, whether I knew it or not at the time, and then whentrouble came from it, do you think that I would sneak out of it andallow someone else to suffer for it? Do you think I'd sneak out of itbecause anyone would let me--because I am a girl?"

Completely at a loss to know what to do upon this turn of events, Curliestood there staring back at the girl. 

She at last sank back upon her seat. Curlie took three turns around thedeck. At last he approached her with a steady step. 

"Miss Ardmore, " he said, taking off his cap, "I apologize. I--I reallydidn't know that a girl could be that kind of a real sport. "

Before she could answer he hurried on: "For the time being we can letthe matter we were just speaking of rest. Matters far more importantthan the vindicating of the law, important as that always is, are beforeus. Your brother and his friend, unless I am mistaken, are in gravedanger. We may be able to save them; we may not. We can but try and thistrial requires all our wisdom and strength. 

"More than that, " he again held his face to the stiffening gale, "weourselves are in considerable danger. Whether this 'cockleshell, ' as theskipper calls her, can weather a severe storm on the open sea, is aquestion. That question is to be answered within a few hours. We're infor a blow. We're too far on our way to retreat if we wished to. We mustweather it. You can be of assistance to us as you suggest, and more thanthat, you can help us by being brave, fearless and hopeful. May we counton you?"

There was a cold, brave smile on the girl's face as she answered:

"You know my father. He has never yet been beaten. I am his child. "

Then suddenly, casting all reserve aside, she gripped his arm andbestowing a warm smile upon him said almost in a whisper:

"Curlie Carson, I like you. You're real, the realest person I everknew. " Then turning swiftly about, she danced along the deck, todisappear down the hatch to the forecastle. 

"Huh!" said Curlie, after a moment's thought, "I never could make outwhat girls are like. But one thing I'm sure of: that one will drown orstarve or freeze when necessity demands it, without a murmur. You cancount on her!"

Throwing a swift glance to where a thick bank of clouds was painting thenight sky the color of blue-black ink, he hurried below to consult withthe skipper about the weather. They were, he concluded, some threehundred and fifty miles out to sea. If this storm meant grave dangers tothem, what must it mean to two boys in a seaplane skimming through theair over the sea? He shivered at the thought. 

Fifteen minutes later, Curlie was in the small wireless cabin of the_Kittlewake_. With a receiver clamped over his head, with a motorpurring at his feet and with the hum of wires and coils all about him, he felt more at ease and at home than he had been for many hours. 

His talk with the skipper had confirmed his fears; they were in for ablow. 

"A nor'-easter, sir, " he had affirmed, "an' one you'll remember for manya day. Oh! we'll weather 'er, sir; somehow we'll 'ave to weather 'er. With the millionaire heiress aboard we'll 'ave to, worse luck for it. We'll 'ammer down the 'atches an' let 'er ride if we 'ave to but it's ajolly 'ard shaking habout we'll get, sir. But she's a 'arty, clean-hulled little boat, she is, an' she'll ride 'er some'ow. "

After receiving this information, Curlie had gone directly to thewireless cabin. He was more anxious than he was willing to admit for thesafety of his two charges, the millionaire's children; for Curlie didthink of them as his charges. He was used to taking burdens on his ownshoulders. It had always been his way. 

Just now he was listening in on 600, ready to pick up any message whichmight come from the boys on the seaplane. That the _Stormy Petrel_ was adoomed aircraft he had not the least doubt. The only question whichremained in his mind was whether the _Kittlewake_ or some other craftwould reach her in time to save the two reckless boys. 

Now and again as he listened he picked up a message from shore. Thecenter of the storm, which was fast approaching, was to the east, offshore. Messages coming from the storm's direction would be greatlydisturbed by static. But to the west the air was still clear. 

Now he heard a ship off Long Island Sound speaking for a pilot; now someshore station at Boston assigned to some ship a harbor space; and nowsome powerful broadcasting station sent out to all the world a warningagainst the rising storm. 

Tiring of all this, for a time he tuned his instrument to 200. 

"Be interesting to see how far short wave lengths and high power willcarry, " was his mental comment. 

Now he caught a faint echo of a song; now a note of laughter; and nowthe serious tones of some man speaking with his homefolks. 

But what was this? He fancied he caught a familiar whisper. Adjustinghis wires, adding all the amplifying power his instruments possessed, helistened eagerly; then, to his astonishment heard his own nicknamespoken. 

"Hello, Curlie, " came to him distinctly. Then, "Are you there? Youremember that big bad man, the one who used heaps of power on 1200?Well, he's gone north--very far north. You'd want to follow him, Curlie, if you knew what I know. The radiophone is going to do great things forthe north, Curlie. But men like him will spoil it all. Remember this, Curlie: If you do go, be careful. Careful. He's a bad man and the stakesare big!" The whisper ceased. The silence that followed it was ghostly. 

"And that, " Curlie whispered softly, "came all the way from my dear oldhome town. She thought I was still in the secret tower room. Fine chanceof my following that fellow up north. But when I get back I'llinvestigate. There may be something big there, just as she says thereis. Yes, I'll look into it when I get back--if I do get back. "

He shivered as he caught the howl of the wind in the rigging. Then, tuning his instrument back to 600, he listened once more for somemessage from the seaplane, the _Stormy Petrel_. 

CHAPTER XV

S. O. S. 

The spot of light which raced across the waters of the sea where no landwas to be seen, where the black surface of the swiftly changing watersshone always beneath the occupants of the seaplane, took on an everwidening circle. There appeared to be no end to Alfred Brightwood'sbelief that somewhere in the midst of all this waste of waters there wasan island. 

Vincent Ardmore had long since given up hope of becoming rich by thismad adventure. His only hope, the one that gave strength to his armsbenumbed by long clinging to the flashlight and new sight to his eyes, weary with watching, was that they might discover some bit of land, acoral island, perhaps, where they might find refuge from the sea until acraft, called to their aid, might rescue them. 

The thought of returning to the mainland he had all but abandoned. Thegas in the tank was too low for that; at least he was quite certain itmust be. 

There was a chance, of course, that if they alighted upon the water andsent out an S. O. S. , the international call for aid, they would beanswered by some near-by ship. But this seemed only a remotepossibility. He dared not hope it would happen. They were far from anyregular course of trans-Atlantic vessels and too far from shore to bepicked up by a coast vessel or a fishing smack. The very fact that thisisland, marked so plainly on the ancient map, had been in thisparticular spot, so remote from the main sea-roads, had strengthenedtheir belief that during all the centuries of travel it had been lostfrom man's memory and hidden from his view. Now this very isolation, since they were unable to locate this island, if indeed it existed atall, threatened to be their undoing. 

Still they circled and circled with great, untiring sweeps. At last, releasing the searchlight, Vincent put his lips to a speaking tube. 

"Let's light, " he grumbled. "I'm dead. What's the use?"

"What else can we do but keep looking?" Alfred answered. 

"Take a look at the gas. Maybe it will carry us back. "

Even as he spoke, a strange thing happened. The air appeared suddenly tohave dropped from beneath the plane. Straight down for fifty feet shedropped. 

With the utmost difficulty Alfred succeeded in preventing her fromtaking a nose dive into the sea. 

"She--she bumped, " he managed to pant at last. "Something the matterwith the air. "

And indeed there was something about the atmospheric conditions whichthey had not sensed. Busy as they had been they had not seen the blackbank of clouds to the northeast of them. With the wild rush of air fromsheer speed, they had not felt the increasing strength of the gale. OnceVincent had fancied that the sea, far beneath them, seemed disturbed, but so far beneath them was it that he could not tell. 

Now in surprise and consternation, as if to steady his reeling brain, hegripped the fuselage beside him while he shrilled into the tube:

"Look! Look over there! Lightning!"

"Watch out, I'm going down, " warned the other boy. "Going to light. "

To do this was no easy task. Three times they swooped low, to skim alongjust over the crest of the waves, only to tilt upward again. 

"Looks bad, " grumbled the young pilot. 

The fourth time, he dared it. With the spray spattering his goggles, hesent the plane right into the midst of it. For a second it seemed thatnothing could save them, that the wave they had nose-dived into wouldthrow their plane end for end and land her on her back, with her twooccupants hopeless prisoners strapped head down to drown beneath her. 

But at last the powerful motors conquered and, tossed by the everincreasing swells, the plane rode the sea like the stormy petrel afterwhich she had been named. 

"Quick!" exclaimed Alfred as the motors ceased to throb. "Strip off yourharness and get back to the tank. "

A moment later Vincent was making a perilous journey to the gas tank. Twice the wind all but swept him into the sea; once a wave drenched himwith its chilling waters. When at last he reached his destination it wasonly to utter a groan; more gas had been used than he had dared think. 

"Can't--can't make it, " he mumbled as he struggled back to his place. 

"Have to send out an S. O. S. Then. What wave length do you use?

"You ought to know, " exclaimed Vincent almost savagely. "You were theone who insisted on using it when we were making up our plans. "

"Six hundred? Oh, yes, " Alfred said indifferently. "Well, what of it?"

"Just this much of it, " said Vincent thoughtfully. "I've been goingover and over it in my mind the last little while. What if we send outour S. O. S. Now and some selfish landlubber such as we were is talkingabout matters of little importance and muddles our message? We might beleft to drown. "

"Aw, can that sob stuff, " grumbled Alfred angrily. "Are you going tosend that S. O. S. Or am I?"

"I will, " said Vincent, preparing to climb to a position on the planeabove him where the radiophone was located. "But"--he suddenly began tosway dizzily--"but where are we?"

He sank back into his seat. For a full moment, with the waves tossingthe plane about and the black clouds mounting higher and higher, the twoboys stared at one another in silence. Yes, where were they? Who couldtell? They were not trained mariners. They could not have taken areckoning even had they been in possession of the needed instruments. 

"Why, " said Alfred hesitatingly, "we must be somewhere near that spotwhere the island was supposed to be located. That's as near as we cancome to it. Send out that latitude and longitude; then we'll climb backinto the air. We'll be safer there than on the water and we can keep thesearchlight shooting out flashes in all directions. A ship coming to ouraid will see the light. "

"If they come, " Vincent whispered. 

"Hurry!" exclaimed Alfred, as a giant wave, rising above its mates, threatened to tear their plane into shreds. 

With benumbed and trembling fingers the boy unwrapped his instruments, adjusted a coil, twisted a knob and threw in his switch. Then his heartstood still. The motor did not start. Had it been dampened andshort-circuited? Would it refuse to go? Were they already lost?

Just as he was giving up in despair, there came a humming sound and amoment later the well-known signal of distress had been flashed outacross the waves. Three times he repeated it. Three times in a few sharpwords he told their general location and their plight. Then with wildlybeating heart, he pressed the receivers to his ears and awaited a reply. 

A moment passed, two, three, four; but there came no answering call. Only the buzz and snap of the ever-increasing static greeted hisstraining ears. 

Once more he sent out the message; again he listened. Still no response. 

"C'm'on, " came from the boy below. "It's getting dangerous. You can geta message off in the air. Gotta get out o' here. Gotta climb. May not beable to make it even now. "

As the other boy glanced down at the white-capped waves all about themhe realized that his companion spoke the truth. 

Hurriedly rewrapping his instruments, all but the receivers, which bythe aid of an extension he brought down with him, he made his way to hisseat and strapped on his harness. 

"All right, " he breathed. 

Once more the motors thundered. For a long distance they raced throughblinding spray. Little by little this diminished until with a swoop, like a sea gull, the magnificent plane shot upward. The next instantthey felt a dash of cold rain upon their cheeks. Was the storm uponthem? Or was this merely a warning dash which had reached them far inadvance of the deluge? For the moment they could not tell. 

CHAPTER XVI

A CONFESSION

For an hour Curlie Carson had been seated in the radiophone cabin of the_Kittlewake_. During that time his delicately adjusted amplifier and hiswonderful ears had enabled him to pick up many weird and unusualmessages. Listening in at sea before a great storm is like wandering onthe beach after that same storm; you never can tell what you may pickup. But though fragments of many messages had come to him, not one ofany importance to the _Kittlewake_ had reached his ears. If during thattime any message from the _Stormy Petrel_ had been sent out, it had beenlost in the crash and snap of static which now kept up a constant din inhis ears. 

Again doubt assailed him. He had no positive knowledge that the boys inthe plane had gone in search of that mysterious island of the oldchart. They might, for all he knew, be at this moment enjoying a richfeast on some island off the coast of America. 

"Cuba, for instance, " he told himself. "Not at all impossible. Shorttrip for such a seaplane. "

"And here, " he grumbled angrily to himself, "here I am risking my ownlife and the life of my companions and crew, inviting death to allthese, and this on a mere conjecture. Guess I'm a fool. "

The gale was rising every moment. Even as he spoke the prow of the boatreared in air, to come down with such an impact as made one believe shehad stepped on something solid. 

Just when Curlie's patience with himself and all the rest of the worldwas exhausted, Joe Marion opened the door. The wind, boosting him acrossthe threshold, slammed the door after him. 

"Whew!" he sputtered. "Going to be rotten. Tell you what, I don't likeit. Dangerous, I'd say!"

"Nothing's dangerous, " smiled Curlie, greatly pleased to see thatsomeone at least was more disturbed than himself. "Nothing's reallydangerous since the invention of the radiophone. Ocean, desert, Arcticwilderness; it's all the same. Sick, lost, shipwrecked? All you've gotto do is keep your head clear and your radiophone dry and tuned up. It'll find you a way out. "

"Yes, but, " hesitated Joe, "how the deuce you going to pack a radiophoneoutfit, all those coils, batteries and boxes, when you're shipwrecked?How you going to keep 'em dry with the rain pelting you from above andthe salt water beating at you from below? Lot of sense to that! Huh!" hegrunted contemptuously. "That for your radiophone!" He snapped hisfinger. "And that for your old sloppy ocean! Give me a square yard ofgood old terra firma and I'll get along without all your moderninventions. "

"It can be done, though, " said Curlie thoughtfully. 

"What can?"

"Radiophone kept dry after a wreck at sea. "

"How?"

Curlie did not answer the question. Instead, he snapped the receiverfrom his head and handed it to Joe. 

"Take this and listen in. " He rose stiffly. "This business is getting onmy nerves. I've got to get out for a breath of splendid fresh seabreeze. "

"Nerves?" said Joe incredulously. "You got nerves?"

"Sometimes. Just now I have. "

On the deck Curlie experienced difficulty in walking. As he worked hisway forward he found that one moment his legs were far too long and hisfoot came down with a suddenness that set his teeth chattering; the nextmoment his legs had grown suddenly short. It was like stepping downstairs in the dark and taking two steps at a time when you expected totake but one. 

"Never saw such a rumpus on the sea, " he grumbled. "Going to be worse, "he told himself as a chain of lightning, leaping across the sky, illumined the bank of black clouds that lay before them. "Going to belots worse. "

Poking his head into the wheel-house, he bellowed above the storm:"How's she go?"

"Seen worse'n 'er, " the skipper shouted back. 

"Ought to be at the spot we started for in half an hour--that island onthe old chart. "

"Never was no island, " the skipper roared. 

"Maybe not. "

"Supposin' we get there, what then?"

"Don't know yet. "

The skipper stared at Curlie for a full moment as if attempting todetermine whether he were insane, then turned in silence to his wheel. 

The wind blew the door shut and Curlie resumed his long-legged, short-legged march. 

He had done three turns around the deck when his eyes caught a smallfigure crumpled up on the pile of ropes forward. 

"Hello, " he cried, "you out here?"

Gladys did not answer at once. She was straining her eyes as if to seesome object which might be hovering above the jagged, sea-swept skyline. 

"No, " said Curlie, as if in answer to a question, "you couldn't see theplane. You couldn't see it fifty fathoms away and then it would flash byyou like a carrier pigeon. No use if you did see it. Couldn't doanything. But there's one chance in a million of their coming into ourline of vision, so it's no use watching. Only chance is a radiophonemessage giving their location. "

"But I--I want to. I--I ought to do something. " For the first time henoticed how white and drawn her face was. 

"All right, " he said in a quiet voice, "you just sit where you are andI'll sit here beside you and you tell me one or two things. That willhelp. "

"Tell--tell what?"

"Tell me this: Did your brother have the original of that old map?"

"Yes, " her tone was already quieting down, "yes, he did, or AlfredBrightwood did. His father is very rich and he has a hobby of collectingvery old editions of books. He pays terrible prices for them. He boughtan old, old copy of 'Marco Polo's Travels'; paid fifteen thousanddollars for it. And inside its cover Alfred found that old map with thecurious writing on the back of it. 

"He thought right away that it might hide some great secret, so he hadit photographed and sent the photo to Vincent. Vincent got a greatscholar to read the writing for him. He never told me what the writingwas; said that no one but he and Alfred should know; that it was a greatsecret and that girls couldn't keep secrets, so I was not to know. 

"But they can keep secrets!" she exploded, breaking off from hernarrative. "They do keep secrets--more secrets than boys do. Wonderfuland terrible secrets sometimes!"

"All right, " smiled Curlie, "I agree with you, absolutely, but what didthey do then?"

"Well, " the girl pressed her temples as if to drive the thoughts of thepresent from her. "They--why then Alfred called Vincent by radiophone on600. Vincent was terribly afraid to answer on 600, but he did. And then, because he thought the discovery of the map was so awfully important, herigged up a radiophone on his auto and I--I"--she buried her face in herhands--"I helped him. I was with him in the car; drove while he sent themessages, all but that last night, when the car was wrecked. 

"I--I know I shouldn't have done it. I knew all the time it was wrong, but Alfred was stubborn and wouldn't talk on anything but 600--said hehad as much right on 600 as anyone else--so we did it. "

"And then the car was wrecked?" suggested Curlie. He felt a trifle meanabout making the girl tell, but he knew she would be more comfortableonce she got it out of her system. People are that way. 

"Yes, " she said, "someone shot his tire and wrecked his machine. I foundthe car, first thing in the morning, and when I saw Vincent wasn'tthere I got two big packing baskets that we once used in the Rockies andput them on my horse. Then I went back and got all that radio stuff andtook it home and hid it. Do you think I did wrong?" The eyes she turnedto his were appealing ones. 

"Maybe you did, " said Curlie huskily, "but that doesn't matter now;you're paying for it all right--going to pay for it in full before thisvoyage is over. The thing you must try to think of now is the present, the little round present that is right here now. And you must try to bebrave. "

"And--and"--she said in a faltering voice--"do you think Vincent ispaying for what he did?"

"I shouldn't be surprised. "

"Then you won't have to arrest him if he's already punished?" Theappealing eyes were again upon him. 

At that moment Curlie did a strange thing, so strange that the wordssounded preposterous to his own ears:

"No, " he said slowly, "I won't, unless--unless he asks me to. "

"Oh!" she breathed, "thank you. " She placed her icy-cold hand on his fora second. 

"You're freezing!" he exclaimed suddenly. "You'll be making yourselfsick. You must get inside!"

"I'll go to the lounging cabin in mid-deck. The forecastle is so--solonesome, " she stammered. "If you need me, you'll find me there. "

Feeling her way along the rail, she disappeared into the darkness. 

At almost the same moment there came the bellowing sound of a voice thatcould be heard above the roar of the storm:

"Curlie! Curlie! Come here! Something coming in. Can't make it out!"

It was Joe Marion. Stumbling aft, now banging his feet down hard and nowtreading on empty air, Curlie made his way to the radiophone cabin. 

CHAPTER XVII

A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT

"It's an S. O. S. , " screamed Joe at the top of his voice, as Curlie camehurrying up. "They sent that much in code and I got it all right. Thenthey tried to tell me their troubles and all I got was a mumble andgrumble mixed with static, which meant nothing at all to me. Repeated itthree times. Very little space in between. Should have called you, Iguess, but there really wasn't time; besides I kept thinking I'd startgetting what he sent. "

"Where'd it come from?" Curlie asked as he snapped the receiver over hishead. 

"Straight out of the storm. Fifty or sixty miles northeast. "

Curlie groaned. "That's what I get for being impatient. Ought to havestayed right here. It's those boys all right and we've missed them; maynever pick them up again. "

For a time there was silence in the wireless cabin, such a silence asone experiences in the midst of a rising storm. The flap of ropes, thecreak of yard-arms, the rush of waves which were already washing thedeck, the chug-chug-chug of the prow of the brave little craft as sheleaped from wave-crest to wave-crest; all this made such music as anorchestra might, had every man musician of them gone mad. And this wasthe "silence" Curlie did not for a long time break. 

"Well!" he shouted at last, "that settles one thing. I was right. Theydid go in search of that mythical island. "

"You can't be sure, " said Joe. "Might have been a fishing boat led offher course by a chase after a whale. You never can tell. "

"No, that's right, " Curlie agreed. 

"What makes you so sure the island on that map is mythical?" asked Joe. 

"Doesn't sound reasonable. "

"Lots of things don't. Take the radiophone; it wouldn't have soundedreasonable a few years ago. Lot of new things wouldn't. A new island isdiscovered somewhere about every year. Why not around here?"

"Anyway, I don't believe it, " shouted Curlie. 

Yet, after all, as he thought of it now he found himself hoping againsthope that there was some such island. It wasn't the gold he was thinkingof, but a haven of refuge. This storm was going to be a bad one. Hefancied it was going to be one of the worst experienced on the Atlanticfor years. If only there were somewhere a sheltered nook into which thiscockleshell of a craft they were riding on might be driven, it wouldbring him great relief. He thought a little of Joe, of the skipper andthe engineer, but he thought a great deal about the girl. 

"No place for a girl, " he mumbled. "Perhaps, " he tried to tell himself, "there is an island, a very small island overlooked for centuries bynavigators; perhaps those boys have found it. Perhaps they were merelysending out an S. O. S. To get someone to bring them gas to carry themhome. But rat!" he exploded, "I don't believe it. Don't--"

He cut himself short to press the receivers tight against his ears. Hewas getting something. Quickly he manipulated the coil of his radiocompass. Yes, it was an S. O. S. ! And, yes, it was coming directly outof the storm. But what was this they were saying? "Two boys--" He gotthat much, but what was that? Strain his ears as he might, he could notcatch another word. 

But now--now he believed he was about to get it. Moving the coilbackward and forward he strained every muscle in his face in a madeffort to understand. Yes, yes, that was it! Then, just as he wasgetting it a terrible thing happened. There came a blinding flash oflight, accompanied by a rending, tearing, deafening crash. He felthimself seized by some invisible power which wrenched every muscle, twisted every joint in his body, then flung him limp and motionless tothe floor. 

When he came to himself, Joe and the girl were bending over him. Joewas tearing at the buttons of his shirt. The girl was rocking backwardand forward. All but overcome with excitement, she was still attemptingto chafe his right hand. When she saw him open his eyes she uttered alittle cry, then toppled over in a dead faint. 

"Wha--what happened?" Curlie's lips framed the words. 

"Lightning, " shouted Joe. "Protectors must have got damp. Short-circuited. Raised hob. Burned out about everything, I guess. "

"Can't be as bad as that. Tend to the girl, " Curlie nodded toward thecorner. 

Joe ducked out of the cabin, to appear a moment later with a cold, dampcloth. This he spread over the girl's forehead. A moment later she satup and looked about her. 

Curlie was sitting up also. He was rubbing his head. When he saw thegirl looking at him he laughed and sang:

 "Oh, a sailor's life is a merry life, And it's a sailor's life for me. 

"But say!" he exclaimed suddenly, "what was I doing when things went topieces?"

Joe nodded toward the radiophone desk where coils and instruments laypiled in tangled confusion. 

"You were getting a message from out the storm. "

"Oh yes, and they gave me their location. It was--no, I haven't it. Lightning drove it right out of my head. Let me think. Let meconcentrate. "

For a full moment there was silence, the silence of the raging sea. ThenCurlie shook his head sadly. 

"No, I can't remember, " his lips framed the words. It was unnecessarythat he shout them aloud. 

"Oh!" exclaimed the girl, and for a moment it seemed that she wouldfaint again. But she controlled herself bravely. 

"We'll find them yet, " she forced a brave smile. "It's a comfort just toknow they're still alive, that they're near us, at least not too faraway for us to save them if we can only find them. "

Again there was silence. Then Curlie rose unsteadily to his feet. 

"Give us a hand here, Joe, old scout, " he said. "We'll get this thingback in shape. There are extra vacuum tubes, tuning-coils and the like, and plenty of all kinds of wire. We'll manage it somehow--got to. "

The girl rose, to sink upon a seat in the corner. 

"That's right, " shouted Curlie. "You stay right here. We'll be companyfor each other. Fellow needs company on a night like this. Besides, I'vegot something to say, a lot to say, to you and Joe as soon as theradiophone is tuned up again. Got to say it before I get killed again, "he chuckled. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE STORMY PETREL GETS AN ANSWER

The dash of rain which beat like a volley of lead upon the fuselage ofthe seaplane as she rose above the spray lasted but a moment. 

"Just a warning of what's to come, " Vincent called through the tube. "Think we could run away from the storm?"

"We'd just get lost on the ocean and not know what location toradiophone, " grumbled his companion. "Better keep circling. We can getabove the storm if we must. "

Once more the weary circle was commenced. With little hope of sightingland, Vincent still fixed his gaze upon the black waters below, while hesent the flash of light, now far to the right, now to the left, and nowstraight beneath them. 

"Someone must have caught our S. O. S. " he told himself. "We ought toget sight of their lights pretty soon. But then, " his hopes grew faint, "not many ships in these seas. Might not have heard us. Might not beable to reach us. Might--"

He broke off abruptly. A blinding flash of lightning had illumined thewaters for miles in every direction. In that flash his eyes had seensomething; at least, he thought they had; some craft away to the left ofthem; a craft which reminded him of one he had sailed upon many a time;his father's yacht, the _Kittlewake_. 

"But of course it couldn't be, " he told himself. "Nobody'd be crazyenough to--"

A second flash illumined the water, but this time, strain his eyes as hemight, he caught no glimpse of craft of any sort. 

"Must have dreamed it, " he muttered. He closed his eyes for a second andin that second saw his sister Gladys clearly mirrored on his mind'svision. She was staggering down a pitching deck. 

"Huh!" he muttered, shaking himself violently, "this business isgetting my goat. I'll be delirious if I don't watch out. "

Again he fixed his gaze upon the spot of light as it traveled over thewater. 

He had kept steadily at the task for fifteen minutes, was wondering howmuch longer the gas would hold out, wondering, too, whether the stormwas ever going to break, when he caught the pilot's signal in the tube. 

"How about trying another message?" his companion called. 

"Up here?" he asked in dismay. 

"I know--awful dangerous. But we've got to risk something. Lost if wedon't. "

"All right, I'll try. " He began cautiously to unbuckle his harness. 

Scarcely had he loosened two of the three straps which held him in placewhen the plane gave a sudden lurch. Having struck a pocket, it droppedlike an elevator cage released from its cable, straight down. 

"Oh--ah!" he exclaimed as he caught at a rod just in time to escapebeing hurled away. 

"Got to be careful, " he told himself, "awful careful! Have to hold onwith one hand while I work with the other. Feet'll help too. "

When the plane had settled again, he loosened the last strap, then beganwith the utmost caution to drag himself to the surface of the planeabove him. 

Once a vivid flash of lightning showed him the dizzy depths beneath him. He was at that moment clinging to a rod with both hands. His legs weretwined about a second. Thus he hung suspended out over two thousand feetof air and as many fathoms of water. 

For a moment a dizzy sickness overcame him, but this passed away. Againhe struggled to gain the platform above. This time he was successful. 

Even here he did not abandon caution. The straps were still about hiswaist. One of these he fastened to a rod. Then with one hand he clung tothe framework before him, while with the other he worked at the task ofadjusting instruments. 

"Slow business, " he murmured. "Maybe it won't work when I get through. Maybe too damp. Maybe it--"

Suddenly he found himself floating in air, like the tail of a kite. Onlythe strap and his viselike grip saved him. The plane had struck anotherpocket. 

He was at last thrown back upon the platform with such force as dashedthe air from his lungs and a large part of his senses from his brain. 

After a moment of mental struggle he resumed his task. He workedfeverishly now. The fear that he might be seriously injured before hehad completed it had seized him. 

"Now, " he breathed at last, "now we'll see!"

His hand touched a switch. The motor buzzed. 

"Ah! She works! She works!" he exulted. 

Then with trembling fingers he sent out the signal of distress. Hefollowed this with their location, also in code. Three times he repeatedthe message. Then snapping on his receiver, he strained his ear tolisten. 

"Ah!--" his lips parted. He was getting something. Was it an answer? Hecould scarcely believe his ears. Yet it came distinctly:

"Yacht _Kittlewake_, Curlie--"

Just at that moment the plane gave a sickening swerve. Caught off hisbalance, the boy was thrown clear off the platform. The receiverconnection snapped. He hung suspended by the single strap. Madly hishands flew out to grasp at the pitching rods. Just in time he seizedthem; the strap had broken. 

With the agility of a squirrel he let himself down to his old placebehind his companion. To buckle on the remaining straps was the work ofa moment. Then, in utter exhaustion and despair, he allowed his head tosink upon his chest. 

"And I was getting--getting an answer, " he gasped. 

His companion had seen nothing of his fall. Glancing behind him for asecond, he saw Vincent in his seat in the fuselage. 

"What'd you come down for?"

"Got shaken down. "

"Get anything?"

"Was getting. Queer thing that! Got the name of my father's yacht andthe word 'Curly. ' Then the plane lurched and spilled me off. Jerked thereceiver off too. Queer about that message! Thought I saw the_Kittlewake_ on the sea a while ago, but then I thought it couldn'tbe--thought I was getting delirious or something. "

"Going back up?"

"I--I'll--In a moment or two I'll try. "

A few moments later he did try, but it was no use. His nerve was gone. His knees trembled so he could scarcely stand. His hands shook as withthe palsy. It is a terrible thing for a climber to lose his nerve whilein the air. 

"No use, " he told himself. "I'd only get shaken off again and next timeI'd be out of luck. Shame too, just when I was getting things. "

Again he caught his companion's call. 

"Storm's almost here! Guess we'll have to climb. "

Even as he spoke, there came a flash of lightning which revealed a solidblack bank of clouds which seemed a wall of ebony. It was moving rapidlytoward them; was all but upon them. 

"Better climb; climb quick, " he breathed through the tube. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE MAP'S SECRET

While all these things were happening to the boys on the seaplane, Curlie Carson and Joe Marion were working hard to repair the damage doneto their radiophone set by the lightning. With the boat pitching aboutas it was, and with the wind and waves keeping up a constant din, it wasa difficult task. 

Just what coils and instruments had been burned out it was difficult totell. All these must be tested out by the aid of a storage battery. Whenthe defective parts had been discarded, it was necessary to piecetogether, out of the remaining parts and the extra equipment, anentirely new set. 

"Have to use a two-stage amplifier, " shouted Curlie, making himselfheard above the storm. 

"Lower voltage on the grid, too, " Joe shouted back. 

"Guess it'll be fairly good, though, " said Curlie, working feverishly. "Only hope it didn't burn out the insulation on our aerials. Want to gether going again quick. Want to bad. Lot may depend on that. "

The insulation on the aerials was not burned out. After many minutes ofnerve-racking labor they had the equipment together again and were readyto listen in. 

Curlie flashed a short message in code, giving the name of their boatand its present location, then, with the receiver tightly clamped overhis ears, he settled back in his chair. 

For some time they sat there in silence, the two boys and GladysArdmore. 

The beat of the waves was increasing. The wind was still rising, but asyet no rain was falling. 

"Queer storm, " shouted Joe. "Haven't gotten into it yet. Will though andit's going to be bad. Skipper says the only thing we can do is to fastendown all the hatches and hold her nose to the storm. "

"Better see about the hatches, " shouted Curlie. 

Throwing open the door, letting in a dash of salt spray and a cold rushof wind as he did so, Joe disappeared into the dark. 

Curlie and the girl were alone. The seat the girl occupied was clampedsolidly to the wall. It had broad, strong arms and to these she clung. She was staring at the floor and seemed half asleep. 

When Joe disappeared, Curlie once more became conscious of her presenceand at once he was disturbed. Who would not have been disturbed at thethought of a delicate girl, accustomed to every luxury, being throwninto such desperate circumstances as they were in at the present moment. 

"Not my fault, " he grumbled to himself. "I didn't want her to go. Wouldn't have allowed her, either, had I known about it. "

"Not your fault?" his inner self chided him. "Suppose you didn't planthis trip?"

"Well, anyway, " he grumbled, "she needn't have come along, and, besides, circumstances have justified my theories. They are out heresomewhere, those two boys, and since they are it's up to someone to tryto save them. "

Then suddenly he remembered that he had something to say to the girl. Heopened his mouth to shout to her, but closed it again. 

"Better wait till Joe comes, " he told himself. "The more people thereare to hear it, the more chances there are of its getting back toshore. "

Joe blew back into the cabin a few moments later. 

"Everything all right?" Curlie shouted. 

At the sound of his voice, the girl started, looked up, then smiled; Joenodded his head. 

"Say, Joe, I'm hungry, " shouted Curlie. "There's bread in the forwardcabin and some milk in a thermos bottle. Couldn't manage coffee, buttoast and milk'd be fine. "

The girl sprang to her feet as if to go for the required articles, butJoe pushed her back into her chair. 

"Not for you, " he shouted. "It's gettin' dangerous. "

"Joe, " said Curlie, "there's a small electric toaster there in thecabin. Disconnect it and bring it in here. We'll connect it up and makethe toast right here. "

When the toaster had been connected, the girl, happy in the knowledgethat she was able to be of service, toasted the bread to a brown quiteas delicate as that to be found on a landlubber's table. 

"Now, " said Curlie as they sat enjoying this meager repast, "I've gotsomething to tell you, something that I want someone else beside me toknow. It's going to be an ugly storm and the _Kittlewake_ is notrans-Atlantic liner. We may all get back to shore. We may not. If oneof you do and I don't, I want you to tell this. It--it will sort ofjustify my apparent rashness in dragging you off on this wild trip. "

He moved his chair close to the stationary seat of the girl and, gripping one of the arms of the seat, motioned Joe to move up besidethem. It was only thus that he might be heard unless he were to shout atthe top of his voice. 

"You know, " he said, a strange smile playing over his thin lips, "youfolks probably have thought it strange that I should go rushing off on atrip like this without any positive knowledge that those two boys hadstarted for that mysterious island shown on the map and spoken of in thewriting on the back of the map, but you see I had more information thanyou thought. This I know for an almost positive fact, " he leaned forwardimpressively: "The mysterious island of the chart does not exist. "

"Oh!" the girl started back. 

"It's a fact, " said Curlie, "and I'll give you my proof. "

He paused for a second. The girl leaned forward eagerly. Joe was allattention. 

"When I went into that big library, " he continued, "I was determined tofind all the truth regarding that map that was to be had there. Whileyou were looking at those ancient maps, " he turned to Gladys, "I wentinto a back room and there the lady in charge gave me some boundreproductions of ancient maps to look at and some things to read, amongthem a volume of the 'Scottish Geographic Magazine. ' I read them throughcarefully and--"

Suddenly he started violently, then clasped the receivers close to hisears. 

"Just a moment. Getting something, " he muttered. 

A second later he seized a pencil and marked down upon a pad a series ofdots and dashes. 

Then, wheeling about, he put his fingers on a key to flash back ananswer. 

"It's the boys, " he shouted. "Got their location. Joe, decode what Iwrote there, then go ask the skipper how much we're off it. "

He turned once more to click off his message, a repetition of the firstone; then he shouted a second message into his transmitter. 

Joe Marion studied the pad for a moment, then rushed out of the cabin. 

All alert, Curlie sat listening for any further message which mightreach him. Presently Joe returned. There was a puzzled look upon hisface. 

"Skipper says, " he shouted, "that the point you gave me is the exactlocation of the island shown on that ancient map and that we must beabout ten knots to the north of it. When I told him that the boys werein a seaplane at that point, he suddenly became convinced that theremust be an island out there somewhere and refused to change his course. 

"'For, ' he says, 'if they've been sending messages from a plane in agale like this they must be on the ground to do it and if on the ground, where but on an island? And if there's an island, how are we going toget up to her in the storm that's about to hit us. We'll be piled on therocks and smashed in pieces. ' That's what he said; said we'd be muchsafer in the open sea. "

Curlie stared at the floor. His mind was in a whirl. Here he had beenabout to furnish proof that the mysterious island did not exist and justat that instant there came floating in from the air proof of theisland's actual existence, proof so strong that even a seasoned old saltbelieved it and refused to change his course. What was he to say tothat!

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he was to be given time enough to thinkabout it, for at that moment, with an unbelievable violence the stormbroke. 

As they felt the impact of it, it was as if the staunch little craft hadrun head on into one of those steel nets used during the war fortrapping submarines. She struck it and from the very force of the blow, recoiled. The thing she had struck, however, was not a steel net but amountain of waters flanked by such a volume of wind as is seldom seen onthe Atlantic. 

"It's the end of the _Kittlewake_, " thought Curlie. "You take care ofher, " he shouted in Joe's ear, at the same time jerking his thumb atGladys. The next second he disappeared into the storm. 

CHAPTER XX

A SEA ABOVE A SEA

When Alfred Brightwood had tilted the nose of the _Stormy Petrel_ upwardand away from the threatening bank of clouds she rose rapidly. Athousand, two thousand, three, four, five thousand feet she mounted todizzy heights above the sea. 

As they mounted, the stars, swinging about in the sky, like incandescentbulbs strung on a wire, made their appearance here and there. They cameout rapidly, by twos and threes, by scores and hundreds. In clusters andfantastic figures they swam about in the purple night. 

Almost instantly the sea disappeared from beneath them and in its placecame a new sea; a sea of dark rushing clouds. Rising two thousand feetabove the level of the ocean, this mass of moisture hanging there in thesky took on the appearance of a second sea. As Vincent looked down uponit he found it easy to believe that were they to drop slowly down uponit, they would be seized upon and torn this way, then that by theviolence of the storm that was even now raging beneath them, and thattheir plane would be cast at last, a shapeless mass, upon the real seawhich was roaring and raging beneath it. 

"How wonderful nature is!" he breathed. "It would be magnificent were itnot so terrible. "

He was thinking of the gasoline in their tank and he shuddered. Would itlast until the storm had passed, or would they be obliged to volplanedown into that seething tempest?

He put his lips to the tube. "You better use just enough gas to keep usafloat, " he suggested. 

Alfred muttered something like, "Think I'm a fool?" Then for a longtime, with the black sea of clouds rising and falling, billowing up likethe walls of a mammoth tent, then sagging down to rise again, theycircled and circled. They were not circling now in search of adventure, to find some island which might bring them great wealth, but to preservelife. How long that circling could last, neither could tell. 

 * * * * *

When Curlie Carson left the wireless cabin of the _Kittlewake_, hegrasped a rail which ran along the cabin, just in time to preventhimself from being washed overboard by a giant wave. As it was, thewater lifted his feet from the deck and, having lifted him as the windlifts a flag, it waved him up and down three times, at last to send himcrashing, knees down, on the deck. The wind was half knocked out of him, but he was still game. He did not attempt to regain the wireless cabinbut fought his way along the side of that cabin toward his own stateroomdoor. 

Now a vivid flash of light revealed the water-washed deck. A coil ofrope, all uncoiled by the waves, was wriggling like a serpent in theblack sea. 

"No use to try to save it, " he mumbled. "No good here, anyhow. "

A yellow light, hanging above his stateroom door, dancing dizzily, appeared at one moment to take a plunge into the sea and at the next todash away into the ink-black sky. 

Curlie was drenched to the skin. He was benumbed with the cold andshocked into half insensibility at the tremendous proportions of thestorm. He wondered vaguely about the engineer below. Was the watergetting at the engines? He still felt the throb of them beneath hisfeet. Well, that much was good anyway. And the skipper? Was he still atthe wheel? Must be, for the yacht continued to take the waves head-on. 

Short and light as she was, the craft appeared to leap from wave-crestto wave-crest. Now she missed the leap by a foot and the water drenchedher deck anew. And now she overstepped and came down with a solid impactthat set her shuddering from stern to keel. 

"Good old _Kittlewake_, " he murmured, "you sure were built for roughservice!"

But now he had reached his stateroom door. With a lurch he threw openthe door, with a second he fell through, a third slammed it shut. 

One second his eyes roved about the place; the next his lips parted assomething bumped against his foot. 

Stooping, he lifted up a long affair the size and shape of a round cedarfencepost. It was this he had brought aboard just before sailing. It hadbeen shaken down and had been rolling about the floor. 

Having examined its wrapping carefully, he shook it once or twice. 

"Guess you're all right, " he muttered. "And you had better be! A wholelot depends on you in a pinch. "

His eyes roved about the room. At length, snatching a blanket from hisberth, he tore it into strips. Then, throwing back his mattress, heplaced the postlike affair beneath it and lashed it firmly to thesprings. 

"There!" he exclaimed with much satisfaction, "you'll be safe untilneeded, if you _are_ needed, and--and you never can tell. "

 * * * * *

The end of the seaplane's last flirt with death and destruction camesuddenly and without warning. Overcome as he was by constant watching, dead for sleep and famished for food, Vincent Ardmore had all but fallenasleep in his seat on the fuselage when a hoarse snort from one of themotors, followed quickly by a rattling grate from the other, startledhim into complete wakefulness. 

The silence which followed these strange noises was appalling. It waslike the lull before a hurricane. 

"Gas is gone, " said Alfred. There was fear and defiance in his tone, defiance of Nature which he believed had treated him badly "Have to godown now. "

"Go down!" Vincent shivered at the thought. Go down to what?

He glanced below, then a ray of hope lighted his face. The storm waspassing--had all but passed. The clouds beneath them were no longerdensely black. A mere mist, they hung like a veil over the sea. 

"But the water?" His heart sank. "It will still be raging. "

The storm had not so far passed as he at first thought. The plane cut acircling path as she descended. Her wings were broad; her drop wasgradual. As they entered the first layer of clouds, she gave a lurchforward, but with wonderful control the young pilot righted her. Secondspassed, then again she tipped, this time more perilously. But again shewas righted. Now she was caught in a little flurry of wind that set herspinning. A nose-dive seemed inevitable, but once more she came toposition. Now, as they neared the surface of the sea, a wild, racingwind, the tail of the storm, seized them and hurled them headlong beforeit. In its grasp, there was no longer thought of control. The onlyquestion now was how they would strike the water and when. The very rushof the wind tore the breath from Vincent's lungs. Crushed back againstthe fuselage, he awaited the end. Once, twice, three times they turnedover in a mad whirl. Then, with a sudden rending crash and a wild burstof spray, they struck. 

The plane had gone down on one wing. For a second she hung suspendedthere. Vincent caught his breath. If she went one way there was achance; if the other, there was none. He thought of loosening hisstraps, but did not. So he hung there. Came a sudden crash. The rightmotor had torn from its lashings and plunged into the sea. 

The next second the plane settled to the left. Saved for a moment, theboy drew a deep breath. A second crash and the remaining motor was gone. During this crash the boy was completely submerged, but the buoyantplane brought him up again. Then, for a moment, he was free to think, tolook about him. Instinctively his eyes sought the place where hiscompanion had been seated. It was empty. Alfred was gone. 

Covering his eyes with his hands, he tried to tell himself it was nottrue. Then, suddenly uncovering them, he searched the surface of thetroubled sea. Once he fancied he caught a glimpse of a white hand abovea wave. He could not be sure; it might have been a speck of foam. Onlyone thing he could be sure of; his throbbing brain told it to him overand over: Alfred Brightwood, his friend, was gone--gone forever. The seahad swallowed him up. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE BOATS ARE GONE

When Curlie Carson had fastened the mysterious post-shaped affair to thesprings of his berth, he fought his way against wind, waves and darknessback to the radiophone cabin. 

"Anything come in?" he asked as he shook the dampness from his clothing. 

"Nothing I could make out, " shouted Joe. "Got something all jumbled upwith static once but couldn't make it out. " Rising, he took the receiverfrom his head and handed it to Curlie. Then, as the craft took a suddenplunge, he leaped for a seat. Missing it, he went sprawling upon thefloor. 

In spite of the seriousness of their dilemma, the girl let forth ajoyous peal of laughter. Joe's antics as he attempted to rise were tooridiculous for words. 

There was tonic for all of them in that laugh. They felt better becauseof it. 

Some moments after that, save for the wild beat of the storm, there wassilence. Then, clapping the receivers to his ears, Curlie uttered anexclamation. He was getting something, or at least thought he was. Yes, now he did get it, a whisper. Faint, indistinct, mingled with static, yet audible enough, there came the four words:

"Hello there, Curlie! Hello!"

At that moment the currents of electricity playing from cloud to cloudset up such a rattle and jangle of static that he heard no more. 

"It's that girl in my old home town, in that big hotel, " he toldhimself. "To think that her whisper would carry over all those miles insuch a gale! She's sending on 600. Wonder why?"

"Ah, well, " he breathed, when nothing further had come in, "I'll unravelthat mystery in good time, providing we get out of this mess and getback to that home burg of ours. But now--"

Suddenly he started and stared. There had come a loud bump against thecabin; then another and another. 

"It's the boats!" he shouted. "They've torn loose. Should have knownthey would. Should have thought of that. Here!" He handed the receiverto Joe and once more dashed out into the storm. 

The _Kittlewake_ carried two lifeboats. As he struggled toward wherethey should have been, some object swinging past him barely missed hishead. 

Instantly he dropped to the deck, at the same time gripping at the railto save himself from being washed overboard. 

"That, " he told himself, "was a block swinging from a rope. The boat onthis side is gone. Worse luck for that! We--we might need 'em beforewe're through with this. "

Slowly he worked his way along the rail toward the stern. Now and againthe waves that washed the deck lifted him up to slam him down again. 

"Quit that!" he muttered hoarsely. "Can't you let a fellow alone. "

Arrived at last on the other side, he rose to his knees and tried topeer above him to the place where the second lifeboat should beswinging. A flash of lightning aided his vision. A groan escaped hislips. 

"Gone!" he muttered. "Should have thought of that! But, " he toldhimself, "there's still the raft!"

The raft, built of boards and gas-filled tubes, was lashed to the deckforward. Thither he made his difficult way. 

To his great relief, he found the raft still safe. Since it wasthrashing about, he uncoiled a rope closely lashed to the side of acabin and with tremendous effort succeeded in making the raft snug. 

"There, now, you'll remain with us for a spell, " he muttered. 

Clinging there for a moment, he appeared to debate some importantquestion. 

"Guess I ought to do it, " he told himself at last. "And I'd better doit now. You never can tell what will happen next and if worst comes toworst it's our only chance. "

Fighting his way back to his cabin, he returned presently with thepost-shaped affair which he had lashed to the springs of his berth. 

This he now lashed to the stout slats of wood and crossbars of metal onthe raft. When he had finished it appeared to be part of the raft. 

"There, my sweet baby, " he murmured, "sleep here, rocked on the cradleof the deep, until your papa wants you. You're a beautiful and wonderfulchild!"

Then, weary, water-soaked, chilled to the bone, stupefied by the wildbeat of the storm, aching in every muscle but not downhearted, he foughthis way back to the radio cabin. 

 * * * * *

Nature has been kind to man. She has so made him that he is incapable offeeling all the tragedy and sorrow of a terrible situation at the timewhen it bursts upon him. Vincent Ardmore, as he clung to the wreckedplane, with his companion gone from him forever, did not sense the fullhorror of his position. He realized little more than the fact that hewas chilled to the bone, and that the wind and waves were beating uponhim unmercifully. 

Then, gradually there stole into his benumbed mind the thought that hemight improve his position. The platform above him still stood clear ofthe waves. Could he but loosen the straps which bound him to thefuselage, could he but climb to that platform, he would at least be freefor a time from the rude beating of the black waters which rolled overhim incessantly. 

With the numbed, trembling fingers of one hand he struggled with thestubborn, water-soaked straps while with the other he clung to the rodsof the rigging. To loosen his grip for an instant, once the straps wereunfastened, meant almost certain death. 

After what seemed an eternity of time the last strap gave way and, witha wild pounding of his heart, he gripped the rods and began to climb. 

As he tumbled upon the platform, new hope set the blood racing throughhis veins. 

"There might yet be a chance, " he murmured, almost joyfully; "the stormis breaking. " His eyes wandered to the fleeting clouds. "Dawn's coming, too. I--I--why, I might send a message. The motor's gone dead, ofcourse, but there are still storage batteries. If only the insulationsare good. If water has not soaked in anywhere!"

With trembling fingers he tested the batteries. A bright flash of firetold him they were still alive. Then with infinite care he adjusted theinstruments. At last he tapped a wire and a grating rattle went forth. 

"She's still good, " he exulted. 

Then slowly, distinctly, he talked into the transmitter, talked as hemight had he been surrounded by the cozy comforts of home. He gave hisname, the name of his aircraft; told of his perilous position; gave hisapproximate location and asked for aid. Only once his voice broke andfell to a whisper. That was when he tried to tell of the sad fate ofhis companion. 

Having come to the end, he adjusted the receiver to his ears and satthere listening. 

Suddenly his face grew tense with expectation. He was getting something, an answer to his message. 

For a full moment he sat there tense, motionless. Then, suddenly, without warning, a new catastrophe assailed him. A giant wave, leapinghigh, came crashing down upon the wreckage of the plane. There followeda snapping and crashing of braces. When the wave had passed, theplatform to which he clung floated upon the sea. His radiophoneequipment was water-soaked, submerged. His storage batteries had toppledover to plunge into the sea. 

So there he clung, a single individual on a mass of wreckage, helplessand well-nigh hopeless in the midst of a vast ocean whose waves wereeven now subsiding after a terrific storm. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE WRECK OF THE _KITTLEWAKE_

"I'm getting a message!" exclaimed Curlie excitedly. "Getting itdistinct and plain, and it's--it's from them. "

"Oh, is it?" the girl sprang from the seat. 

"From your brother. They've been wrecked. They're not on an island buton the sea. Safe, though, only--" he paused to listen closely again--"Ican't just make out what he says about his companion. "

"Oh! Please, please let me listen!" Gladys Ardmore gripped his arm. 

Quickly Curlie snatched the receiver from his head and pressed it downover her tangled mass of brown hair. 

She caught but a few words, then the voice broke suddenly off, but suchwords as they were; such words of comfort. The voice of her onlybrother had come stealing across the storm to her, assuring her that hewas still alive; that there was still a chance that he might be saved. She pressed the receivers to her ears in the hopes of hearing more. 

In the meantime Curlie was answering the message. In quiet, reassuringtones he gave their location and told of their purpose in those watersand ended with the assurance that if it were humanly possible the rescueshould be accomplished. 

"And we will save them, " he exclaimed. "At least we'll save yourbrother. "

"You don't think--" Gladys did not finish. 

"I hardly know what to think about your brother's chum, " Curlie saidthoughtfully. "But this we do know: Your brother is clinging to thewreckage of a seaplane out there somewhere. And we will save him. See!the storm is about at an end and morning is near!" He pointed to thewindow, where the first faint glow of dawn was showing. 

For a moment all were silent. Then suddenly, without warning, therecame a grinding crash that sent a shudder through the _Kittlewake_ fromstem to stern. 

"What was that?" exclaimed Joe Marion, springing to his feet from thefloor where he had been thrown. 

"We struck something!" Curlie was out upon the deck like a shot. 

He all but collided with the skipper, who had deserted his wheel. 

"We 'it somethin', " shouted the skipper, "an' she's sinkin' by thelarboard bow. Gotta' git off 'er quick. Boats are gone! Everythin'sgone. "

"No, " said Curlie calmly, "the raft forward is safely lashed on. "

The engineer appeared from below. The engine had already ceased itsthrobbing. 

"She's fillin' fast, " he commented in a slow drawl. 

"You two get the raft loose, " said Curlie. "I'll get the girl. "

Dashing to his stateroom he seized two blankets and a large section ofoiled cloth. With these he dashed to the radio room. 

"Got to get out quick!" he exclaimed. 

Before she could realize what he was doing, he had seized the girl andhad wrapped her round and round with the blankets, then with the oiledcloth. Joe had rushed out to help with the raft. Curlie carried the girloutside and, when the raft with the others aboard was afloat, handed herdown to the skipper. 

"Try and keep her dry, " he said calmly. "We'll all get soaked, but wecan stand it for a long time; a girl can't. "

"Now push off!" he commanded. "Get good and clear so that the wreck willnot draw you down. "

"You'll come with us, " said the skipper sternly. Curlie had not intendedgoing with them. He had meant to remain behind and send a call for aid, then to swim for the raft. But now, as he saw the water gaining on thestricken craft, he realized how dangerous and futile it would be. He wasneeded on the raft to help get her away. Having seen all this at aflash he said:

"All right; I'll go. " Having dropped to the raft, and seized a shortpaddle, he joined Joe and the engineer in forcing the unwieldy raft awayfrom the side of the doomed _Kittlewake_. 

They were none too soon, for scarcely two minutes could have elapsedwhen with a rush that nearly engulfed them the boat keeled up on end andsank from sight. 

"And now, " said Joe addressing Curlie as he settled back to a seat onone of the gas-filled tubes, "you can test out what you said once aboutkeeping your radiophone dry and tuned up under any and everycircumstance. Suppose you tune her up now and get off an S. O. S. "

There was a smile on the lips of the undaunted young operator as he saidwith a drawl:

"Give me time, Joe, old scout, give me time. "

The girl, staring out from her wrappings, appeared to fear that the twoboys had gone delirious over this new catastrophe. 

But only brave and hardy spirits can joke in the midst of disaster, andas for Curlie, he really did have one more trick up his sleeve. 

As the old skipper sat staring away at the point where his craft haddisappeared beneath the dark waters, he murmured:

"'Twasn't much we 'it; fragment from an iceberg 'er somethin', but 'twasenough. An' a good little craft she was too. "

The storm had passed, but the waves were still rolling high. The rafttilted to such an angle that now they were all in danger of beingpitched headforemost into the sea, and now in danger of falling backwardinto the trough of the waves. 

Soaked to the skin, shivering, miserable, the boys and men clung to theraft, while the girl bewailed the fact that she was not permitted tosuffer with them. Wrapped as she was, and carefully guarded from theon-rush of the waves, she escaped all the miserable damp and chill ofit. 

"Shows you're a real sport, " Curlie's lips, blue with cold, attempted asmile, "but you've got to let us play the gentleman, even out here. "

When the waves had receded somewhat, Curlie began digging at one of thetubes beneath his feet. Having at length unfastened it, he stood it onend to unscrew some fastenings and lift off the top. 

"Canisters of water and some emergency rations!" exclaimed Joe, as hepeered inside. "Great stuff!"

They had taken a swallow of water apiece and were preparing to munchsome hardtack and chocolate when Gladys exclaimed:

"Look over there. What's that?"

"There's nothing, " said the engineer after studying the waves for amoment. 

"Oh, yes there was!" the girl insisted emphatically. "Something showedup on the crest of a wave. It's in the trough of the wave now. It'llcome up again. "

"Bit of wreckage from our yacht, " suggested Joe. 

"Not much wreckage on 'er, " said the skipper. "All washed off 'er longbefore she sank. "

"What could it be then?" The girl was fairly holding her breath. "Itcouldn't be--"

"Don't get your hopes up too high, " cautioned Curlie. "Of coursemiracles do happen, but not so very often. "

CHAPTER XXIII

THE MIRACLE

They were all straining their eyes when at last the thing appeared oncemore on the crest of the wave. 

"Wreckage! A mass of it!" came from the skipper. 

"And--and there's a hand!" exclaimed Curlie. 

"The paddles, boys! The paddles! Every 'and of you, hup an' at it, "shouted the skipper. 

The wildest excitement prevailed, yet out of it all there came quick andconcerted action. Three paddles flashed as, straining every muscle, theystrove to bring the clumsy raft nearer the wreck. With tears in hereyes, the girl begged and implored them to unwrap her and allow her tohave a hand in the struggle. 

A minute passed. No longer chilled but steaming from violent exertion, they strained eager eyes to catch another glimpse of the wreck. 

"There--there it is!" exclaimed the girl, overcome with joy. "You'regaining! You're gaining!"

Five minutes passed. They gained half the distance. Eight minutes more;the hand on the wreckage rose again. They were getting nearer. 

Suddenly the girl uttered a piercing cry of joy:

"It is Vincent! It is! It is!"

And she was right. A moment later, as they dragged the all but senselessform from the seaplane, they recognized him at once as the millionaire'sson. 

He had drifted in the benumbing water so long that had they been delayedfor another hour they would have found nothing more than a corpseawaiting them. 

As Curlie tore Vincent's sodden outer garments from him he saw the girlcarefully unrolling the blankets and oiled covering from about her. Hedid not protest. To him the thought of seeing this girl half drowned andchilled through by the spray which even now at times dashed over theraft, was heartbreaking, but he knew it was necessary if the life of herbrother was to be saved. 

"Brave girl!" he murmured as he wrapped Vincent in the coverings andpassed him on to the skipper. 

"And now, " he said, "the time has come to think of other things. Ibelieve the waves have sufficiently subsided to enable us to dare it. "

He fumbled once more at the raft, at last to bring up a long, post-shaped affair. 

"More rations, " murmured Joe, swallowing his last bite of hardtack; "aregular commissary. But why get them out at this time?"

"You wait, " smiled Curlie. 

He was standing up. After telling Joe to steady him, he began tearingaway at the upper end of the mysterious package. In a moment, he tookout some limp, rubber affairs. 

"Toy balloons, " jeered Joe. 

"Something like that, " Curlie smiled. 

He next brought out a small brass retort and a tiny spirit lamp. 

"Lucky our matches are dry, " he murmured, after unwrapping some oiledcloth and lighting the spirit lamp with one of the matches inclosed. 

After firmly tying the end of a toy balloon over the mouth of the retorthe held the spirit lamp beneath the bowl of the retort. At once theballoon began to expand. 

"Chemicals already in the retort, " he explained. 

When the balloon was sufficiently inflated, he quickly tied it at themouth, then began inflating another. 

"The gas is very buoyant, " he explained. "Hold that, " he said as hepassed the string to the engineer. 

"There's enough, " he said quietly when the third had been filled. 

He next drew forth some shiny fine copper wire coiled about some round, insulated bars. 

When he had fastened the balloons to one end of the bars, he attached astrong cord to the balloons, then allowed them to rise, at the same timepaying out the strands of copper wire. 

"Not very heavy wire for an aerial, " he remarked, "but heavy enough. We'll have a perpendicular aerial, which is better than horizontal, andit'll hang pretty high. All that's in our favor. "

When the balloons had risen to a height which allowed the aerial, towhich was attached a heavier insulated wire, to float free, he gave thecord to the engineer and began busying himself at putting together whatappeared to be a small windmill with curved, brass fans. 

"A windmill, " he explained, "is the surest method of obtaining a littlepower. Always a little breeze floating round. Enough to turn a wheel. This one is connected direct with a small generator. Gives power enoughfor a radiophone. Might use batteries but they might go dead on you. Windmill and generator is as good after ten years as ten days. 

"There you are, " he heaved a sigh of relief, as he struck thetransmitter which he had taken from his apparently inexhaustible "bag oftricks. "

"Unless I miss my guess, we have a perfectly good radiophone outfit offair power. All the rest of it is stowed down there in the bottom. Weshould be heard distinctly at from a hundred to five hundred miles. Inthe future, " he smiled, "every lifeboat and raft will be equipped withone of these handy little radiophone outfits, which are really not veryexpensive. "

Then, with all eyes fixed upon him, he began to converse with the unseenand unknown, who, sailing somewhere on that vast sweep of water, were, they hoped, to become their rescuers. 

In perfectly natural tones he spoke of their catastrophe and theirpresent predicament. He gave their approximate location and the names oftheir party. This after an interval of two minutes, he repeated. 

Then, suddenly his lips parted in a smile. The others watched him withstrained attention. After a minute had elapsed, he said with apparentsatisfaction:

"We'll await your arrival with unmixed pleasure. 

"The Steamship Torrence, " he explained, "in crossing the Atlantic wasdriven two hundred miles off her course. She is now only aboutseventy-five miles from us. Being a fast boat, she should reach us inthree or four hours. 

"And now, " he said with a smile, "since we have no checker-board on deckand are entirely deprived of musical instruments of any kind, perhapsyou would like to hear me tell why I was sure the mysterious islandwhich has caused us so much grief, did not exist. "

"By the way, " he said turning to Vincent, "do you chance to have theoriginal of that old map with you?"

The boy pointed to his aviator's sodden leather coat. Although he hadgained much strength from the warm blankets, he had found himselfunable to speak of the tragedy which had befallen his companion on the_Stormy Petrel_. Now as he saw Curlie draw the water-soaked map from thepocket of his coat, a look of horror overspread his face and he mutteredhoarsely:

"Throw it into the sea. It brings nothing but bad luck. "

"No, no, " said Curlie, "we won't do that. "

"Then you must keep it, " the other boy exclaimed. "I don't want ever tosee it again. Alfred made me a present of it just before we hopped off. "

"All right, " said Curlie, "but you are parting with a thing of somevalue. "

"Value!" exclaimed Vincent. Then he sat staring at Curlie in silence asmuch as to say: "You too must have been bitten by the gold-bug. " Butthat Curlie had not been bitten by that dangerous and poisonous insectwill be proved, I think, by the pages which follow. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE STORY OF THE MAP

"You see, " said Curlie, tapping the soggy bit of vellum which he held inhis hand, "the trouble with this map is, not that it is not genuine, butthat it's too old. This map, " he paused for emphasis, "this map was madein fourteen hundred and forty-six. "

Gladys Ardmore gasped. Her brother stared in astonishment. 

"It's a fact!" declared Curlie emphatically. 

"You see, " he went on, "the day I was in the library with Miss Gladys Isaw an exact reproduction of this map in a large volume. At the sametime I read a description of it and a brief account of its history. Itseems it was lost sight of about a century ago. There were copies, butthe original was gone. 

"I concluded at once that the map had somehow come into the hands ofAlfred Brightwood. Since I was convinced that this was the truth, andsince I had read the writing about the gold discovered on the mysteriousisland charted there, I decided that it would be wise to find outwhether or not it were possible that this strange story might be true. Ifound my answer in a bound volume of Scottish Geographic Magazines in aseries of articles entitled 'The So-Called Mythical Islands of theAtlantic. '

"It seems that there is fairly good proof that a number of vesselslanded on the North American continent before Columbus did. Driven outof their course or lured on by hopes of gold and adventure, these shipsfrom time to time discovered and rediscovered lands to the west ofIreland. They thought of the land as islands and gave them names. Theisland of Brazil was one of them. If you were to consult this map I havehere you would find the island of Brazil indicated by a circle which isnearly as large as Ireland, yet if you were to cruise all over thewaters in the vicinity of this supposed island you would find only therestless old ocean. 

"What's the answer then?" he smiled. "Just this: These ancient searovers didn't have any accurate way of telling where they were at agiven time on the sea, so they had to guess at it. Carried on by windsand currents, they often traveled much farther than they thought. Theylanded on the continent of North America and thought it an island. Whenthey came back to Europe they tried to locate the land they haddiscovered on a map, and missed it by only a thousand miles or so. 

"Our ancient friend who wrote of his experiences on the back of this maphad doubtless been carried to some point in Central or South America, for there was, even in those days, plenty of gold to be found in thoseregions. "

"So you see, " he turned to Vincent with a smile, "you went five hundredmiles out to sea for the purpose of rediscovering America. Not muchchance of success. Anyway that's what I thought, and that is why Idashed off on a wild race in the _Kittlewake_. And that's why we'rehere. "

Silence followed the ending of Curlie's narrative. There seemed to benothing more to say. 

So they sat there staring at the sea for a long time. 

The silence was at last broken by the skipper's announcement:

"Smoke on the larboard bow. "

It was true. Their relief was at hand. 

Almost immediately afterward Curlie received a second reassuring messagefrom the captain of the liner. A short time after that he had thepleasure of escorting the dripping daughter of a millionaire up thegangway. 

The next day as they were moving in toward the dock, Vincent Ardmoreapproached Curlie. 

"My sister, " there was a strange smile on his lips, "says you set out onthis trip for the purpose of having me arrested?"

"I did. "

"Well--" the other boy choked up and could not continue. 

"The law, punishment, prisons and all that, as I understand it, " saidCurlie thoughtfully, "have but one purpose: to teach people what otherfolks' rights are and to encourage them in respecting them. It's mybusiness to see that there is fair play in the air. "

He paused and looked away at the sea. When he resumed there was asuspicious huskiness in his voice. "Seems to me that as far as you areconcerned, nature has punished you about enough. You ought to know bythis time what interfering with the radio wave lengths belonging to seatraffic might mean to shipwrecked men; and--well--Oh, what's the use!"he broke off abruptly. "I'm a chicken-hearted fool. You're out on paroleand must report to your sister every week. She's--she's what I'd call abrick!"

Turning hastily he walked away. 

Almost before he knew it, he all but ran over Gladys Ardmore, coming tomeet him. 

"Oh, Mister--Mister--" she hesitated. 

"Just plain Curlie, " he smiled. 

"You--you're coming to see me when you get home? Won't you?"

Curlie thought a moment, then of a sudden the spacious walls of theArdmore mansion flashed into his mind. To go there as an officer of thelaw was one thing; to go as a guest was quite another. 

"Why--why--" he drew back in confusion--"you'll have to excuse mebut--but--"

"Oh! I know!" she exclaimed. "It's the house and everything. Tell youwhat, " she seized him by the arm; "there's a little old-fashionedfarmhouse down in one corner of our estate. It was there when we boughtit and has been kept just the same ever since. Even the furniture, redplush chairs, kitchen stove and everything, are there. We'll go downthere and have a regular frolic sometime, popcorn, molasses candy, checkers and everything. We've a wonderful cook who once lived on afarm. We'll take her along as a chaperon. Now will you come? Will you?"she urged eagerly. 

"Why--why--"

"If you don't, " she held up a warning finger, "I'll come up and visityou in that secret wireless room of yours just as I once said I would. "

"In that case, " said Curlie, "I suppose I'll have to surrender. And, " headded happily, "here we are, back to dear old North America, without anygold but with a lot to be thankful for. "

The boat was bumping against the dock. Giving his arm a squeeze the girldashed away. 

CHAPTER XXV

OFF ON ANOTHER WILD CHASE

A few nights later Curlie was back in the secret tower room. He was busyas ever running down trouble. 

Joe Marion, entering the room noiselessly, dropped a letter into hishand. The letter bore the insignia of the Ardmore family in one corner. 

"From Gladys Ardmore!" he told himself. 

But he was mistaken. It was a typewritten letter signed in a boldbusiness hand. It ran:

 "It is with great pleasure that I inclose a check for the sum of the reward offered for the safe return of my son. 

 "(Signed) J. Anson Ardmore. "

Curlie looked at the check, then uttered a low whistle. 

"Pay to the order of C. Carson, $10, 000. 00, " he whispered. Then outloud:

"Joe, what would a fellow do with ten thousand dollars?"

"Search me, " Joe grinned back. "You got the fever or something?" heasked a second later. 

Curlie showed him the check. 

"Why, " said Joe, "you might buy a car. "

"Not much. The Humming Bird's quite good enough. "

"Tell you what, " he said after a moment's thought, "just get that cashedfor me, will you? Then find out where our old skipper and the engineerlive and send them a thousand apiece. After that pocket a thousand foryourself. Then--then--Oh, well, hire me a safety deposit box and buy mea lot of Liberty bonds. Might want 'em some day. 

"And, say, that reminds me, " he pointed to a square of vellum which hungon a stretcher in the corner. "Take that over to the big library on theNorth Side and tell 'em it's a present from us. It's that map VincentArdmore gave me. It's worth a thousand dollars, but such maps are notsafe outside a library. Tell 'em to put it on ice, " he laughed. 

Scarcely had Joe departed than a keen-eyed, gray-haired man entered thetower room. He was Colonel Edward Marshall, Curlie's superior. 

"Curlie, " he wrinkled his brow, as he took a seat, "there's somebodyraising hob with the radio service in Alaska. "

Curlie nodded his head. "I thought there might be. Sends on 1200, doesn't he?" He was thinking of the hotel mystery and of the strangegirl who had whispered to him so often out of the night. 

"Yes, how did you know so much?"

"Part of my job. "

"But you've been away. "

"Radiophone whispers travel far. "

"Well, " said the colonel, settling down to business, "Alaska's in a badway. This fellow doesn't confine himself to 1200 up there. He uses allsorts of wave lengths; seems to take pleasure in mussing up importantgovernment communications and even more in breaking in on Munson. "

"Munson, the Arctic explorer. "

"Yes. He's making a try for the Pole. Much depends upon his keeping intouch with the outside world and this crank or crook seems determinedthat he shall not. "

"Why don't they catch him?"

"Well, you see, " he wrinkled his brow again, "the boys up there arerather new at it. Don't understand the radio compass very well. Thefellow moves about and all that, so it's difficult. 

"I thought, " he said slowly after a moment, "that you might like totackle the case. "

"Would I?" exclaimed Curlie, jumping to his feet. "Try me! Can I takeJoe along?"

"As you like. Better get off pretty promptly; say day after to-morrow. "

"Never fear. We'll be off on time. "

The colonel bowed and left the room. 

"Alaska! Alaska!" Curlie murmured after a time, "Alaska and the Yukontrail, for of course it will be that. It's too late for the boats. Andthat reminds me, I made a promise to Gladys Ardmore. Only one nightleft. "

A short time after that he put in an out-of-town telephone call. It wasa girlish voice that answered. 

Late the next night Curlie made his way home along the well-rememberedForest Preserve road. He was riding in the Humming Bird. He had been toGladys Ardmore's party for two and a chaperon down in the littlefarmhouse. The party had been a grand success and he was carrying awaypleasant memories which would serve him well on the long, long Yukontrail and the weary and eventful miles which lay beyond its furtherterminal. 

If you wish to learn of Curlie's adventures up there and of the secretof the whisperer, you must read the next volume, entitled "On the YukonTrail. "