Janet Hardy in Hollywood

by John Henry Goldfrap

  _Chapter XXVI_ BOMBS FROM THE SKY

  It was later in the evening when Janet was missed. Helen thought hercompanion had gone to visit some other member of the company and it waswell after ten o'clock when she became alarmed and started makinginquiries.

  "Looking for someone?" asked Bertie Jackson, who seemed to be everywhere.

  "I haven't seen Janet for several hours."

  "Maybe she's got a date with a boy friend in the desert."

  "Janet hasn't any boy friend and she wouldn't be dating in the desert,"snapped Helen.

  "Have it your own way," retorted Bertie, but as she turned away a sneerdistorted her vapid face.

  Helen finally communicated her fears to her father.

  "I've gone over the entire camp and no one has seen Janet for at least anhour and none of them are sure it was that recent. I'm worried."

  Henry Thorne, busy working with one of the writers on a difficult bit ofscript that needed smoothing up half way dismissed Helen's fears with awave of his hand. Then he stopped.

  "You're sure she's not in camp?" he asked.

  "I'm positive, Dad. Do you think anything terrible has happened?"

  "Of course not. She's probably walked out into the desert and has gonetoo far. I'll rout out some of the men and we'll start a searchingparty."

  Curt Newsom was one of the first to answer the call and he muttered tohimself when he heard the news.

  "There's trouble brewing," he told Helen. "You stick close to me."

  "What do you mean, Curt?" asked Helen, her voice filled with anxiety.

  "I mean this picture promises to be too big and someone is trying tothrow a wrench in the proceedings."

  "Some rival company?"

  "It could be that. I'm not saying, but I'm certainly going to keep myeyes open."

  Under the brisk commands of Helen's father, the ghost town awoke. Men whohad been asleep were routed out, cars commandeered, and parties sweptaway over the desert in search of the missing girl.

  Curt Newsom, who had brought several horses with him, preferred to rideand Helen went with him. Curt saddled the horses and they swung away intothe desert together.

  Across the almost level floor of the desert they could see the carsswinging in great circles.

  "They won't find anything," said Curt, and after that they rode on in asilence broken only by the steady shuffling of the horses through thesand.

  At intervals they stopped and Curt's great voice boomed through thenight.

  "We'd better turn back to camp," the cowboy star finally advised. "Maybesome of the others have news."

  But when they gathered in the ghost town, Helen knew that the search hadbeen fruitless.

  Each searching party brought back the same report--no trace of themissing Janet had been found.

  "Everyone try to get some sleep now," said Helen's father. "We'll resumethe search at dawn."

  Helen went to the room assigned to her and lay down, fully dressed, totry and rest in the short interval before dawn. But sleep would not comeand thoughts raced through her head. Something was decidedly amiss and,like Curt Newsom, she could now sense impending disaster to the company.Just what it was or how it would strike she could not determine, but aterrible uneasiness gripped her.

  Breakfast was served at dawn. Most of the women in the company were onhand to aid in the search, but Henry Thorne called only upon the men.

  Half a dozen cars were manned and they swung out again to comb the desertfloor.

  "Let them go," said Curt Newsom to Helen. "We'll ride. If there are anytracks, we'll be able to follow them easier."

  The tall, well-built cowboy star swung into his saddle and they trottedaway between two tumbledown houses of the ghost town.

  Shadows of the morning were long and heavy, for the sun was just toppingthe mountains, but Helen, riding close behind the cowboy, glimpsed afootprint in the sand. She reined in her horse and called to Curt, whowhirled quickly.

  "Someone's been through here," she said, pointing to where the sand wasfairly hard packed.

  "Anyone could have left a print like that," replied the cowboy star."Your nerves are getting the best of you, Helen. Steady up."

  She smiled and they turned again toward the desert, riding at a steadypace and scanning the sand intently for anything unusual.

  They were less than a quarter of a mile from the old town when Curtpulled his horse up sharp and leaped from the saddle to bend down andscrutinize a tough creeper which had been pulled out of the sand.

  "Get down here, Helen. Here's something the others have missed."

  Helen dismounted and ran to Curt's side. In his hands he held a toughsection of the creeper and his eyes were fastened on a brown stain. "Whatis it?" demanded Helen.

  "Looks like someone got caught in this and scratched," said Curt, tryingto pass the remark off lightly.

  "You mean it might have been Janet?"

  "It might have been," agreed the cowboy star. "Look back toward thevillage. This is in a direct line and although you may not have noticedit, we've been following footprints all of the way. Two came out and onlyone returned."

  Helen looked at him, her eyes showing her fear.

  "Then someone in the company was responsible for Janet's disappearance!"she gasped.

  "Right," snapped Curt. "The first thing is to find Janet; then we'llcatch up with whoever was responsible."

  "Hadn't we better tell the others?" asked Helen.

  "They're not used to tracking; I am." He grinned. "Even if I am a moviecowboy most of the time, I know a few tricks about the range and thedesert. Come on!"

  They remounted and Curt led the way, scanning the ground closely. EvenHelen, as inexperienced as she was, could see the signs now. Someone hadleft deep prints in the sand.

  "He was either an awful big man or he was carrying someone," said Curt."One thing, he won't be able to go far."

  The trail led toward the hills back of the ghost town and it was evidentthat the man they were trailing had rested frequently. Curt saw anotherof those brown stains, but he made sure that Helen did not see it forthere was no use in increasing her fears.

  The trail led on, perhaps half a mile altogether, and ended suddenly in atiny depression where the sand was smooth and hard.

  Curt dismounted and made a minute survey of the bowl. The trail came inall right, but there were no tracks going out. In the center were twomarks, about four inches wide and 12 or 14 feet long, but that was all.Beside one of these was a tiny smudge of black and Curt got down on hishands and knees and sniffed keenly.

  "What is it?" asked Helen.

  Curt shook his head. "Can't tell yet and there's no use in guessing."

  He mopped his forehead with a large bandana and scanned the heavens. Thesun was blazing down and shortly the temperature in the little bowl theywere in would be stifling.

  "We'd better get out of here," he said.

  "But Janet? Where can she be? We've followed the trail but it's simplyvanished." The questions tumbled from Helen's lips.

  "I wish I could answer them all," said Curt. "Maybe I can later."

  They rode back to the ghost town at a brisk trot and Curt cornered HenryThorne and told him of their discovery. Then he led a searching party ofhalf a dozen into the hills back of the town while the other members ofthe company assembled for the day's work under the boiling sun.

  Helen attempted to join the searching party, but was told it was no placefor a girl so she went with the company out into the desert where theairport had been laid out and a dummy hangar erected.

  Shooting went ahead on schedule until just before noon when someoneshouted an alarm and they turned toward the ghost town. The remaininghouses were rapidly being consumed by flames and before they could reachthem there was no hope of saving anything, including a number of valuablecameras, sound equipment and hundreds of dollars worth of costumes.

  Henry Thorne fairly blazed for he knew now that a
deliberate effort wasbeing made to stop the production of "Kings of the Air."

  But before they had recovered from that disaster, another befell withstartling swiftness. There was a dull boom from the valley and theyturned to see a fast, black plane swinging over the set on the desert. Acloud of dust was rising near the hangar and as they watched, anotherexplosion echoed in their ears.

  "That guy's bombing the set!" yelled a cameraman, leaping into a car.

  The third bomb was a direct hit and the hangar collapsed. Over to theright were half a dozen planes which were being used in the picture andthe unknown flyer turned his attention toward these.

  "If he blows them up, we can figure a hundred thousand dollar loss rightthere," groaned Helen's father.

  But the unknown flyer had reckoned without the resourcefulness of CurtNewsom. The lanky cowboy, riding hard by in the hills, had heard thefirst explosion and the roar of an airplane motor. They saw him flash outinto the desert at a mad gallop.

  "He's crazy; someone stop him!" cried Henry Thorne, but there was no onenear enough to reach Curt.

  Helen saw him drag a rifle from the scabbard on his saddle. The flyer wasapparently disdainful of the lone rider for he dropped another bomb. Itmissed the planes by only the narrowest of margins and the pilot of theblack ship swung around for another try. He swooped toward Curt and wavedjeeringly as Curt leaped from the saddle.

  They were too far away to hear the report of the rifle but they could seethe little puffs of smoke from the muzzle. Suddenly the black planeheeled sharply, its motor sputtering. The pilot shot over the side, hischute billowing out and Curt, jumping back into the saddle, rode like madtoward the hills.

  The plane gyrated uncertainly, then dove toward the ground. It struckwith a tremendous explosion as the bombs still aboard let go.

  Helen saw Curt whirl back into the valley and sweep down on the flyer,who had landed in a tangle of cord and silk from the parachute. Allthought of resistance was gone from the flyer's mind and the cowboycaptured him easily. By the time the others arrived, Curt had thesituation well in hand.

  "I think a confession out of this guy will solve our troubles," said thecowboy star as Henry Thorne stared at the flyer.

  "What have you got to say for yourself. Who employed you?" demanded thedirector.

  The flyer was sullen. "I'm not talking. I want an attorney."

  Curt rocked back and forth on his heels.

  "So you won't talk?" He grinned, but it was a mirthless grin that struckterror to those who watched. Curt was living in real life the role he hadplayed so many times on the screen. With a quick jerk his lariat was freefrom the saddle and before the flyer knew it, he was in the coils of therope and his feet had been jerked out from under him.

  Curt swung into the saddle, twisted the rope around the saddle horn andlooked down on the helpless man.

  "Going to talk?"

  The captive shook his head.

  Curt spoke to his horse and the magnificent sorrel moved ahead slowly,dragging the captive after him.

  After bouncing over the desert floor for a rod, the flyer cried formercy.

  "I'll talk; I'll talk. Get this rope off quick."

  "And you'll tell us what you did with that girl last night and where wecan find her?"

  The captive nodded emphatically and Curt shook the rope loose.