by Van Powell
THE GHOST OF MYSTERY AIRPORT
by
VAN POWELL
The Saalfield Publishing CompanyAkron, Ohio New York
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Copyright MCMXXXIIThe Saalfield Publishing CompanyThe Ghost of Mystery Airport
Made in the United States of America
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THE GHOST OF MYSTERY AIRPORT
CHAPTER I
A PILOT WHO LIKED SPOOKS
"Scared?"
"Not a bit!"
Garry Duncan, just behind the pilot who had asked the question,answered it in his usual, cool manner.
Behind him in the three-place open cockpit biplane, histhirteen-year-old chum displayed none of his calm.
"I'm scared!" Chick cried as the pilot cut down his throttle. Chickraised his voice to a tremulous shout, "Scott--turn back."
The man at the controls laughed.
"Don't be a baby!" he counseled. "Just because you see a cloud begin tolook shimmery--the first sign of the ghost, according to all the pilotswho have seen it--don't lose your nerve."
"But--this ghost hunt might be dangerous," Chick began to plead."C-can't you--Scott, can't you t-turn and go out on the bay?"
"No. I cut the gun too much and the engine died. We have to glide in,dead-stick, to the best landing we can." There was no regret in thepilot's voice. He proposed to carry through his purposes.
"But--" Chick was hopeful as he offered an argument, "in the dark here,the swamp is dangerous--you might miss water and you'd get the wingstorn in the grass." He added quickly, "or you may get our pontoonsbogged--" As the airport searchlight made a cloud glow he cried,"Yes--bogged down in the ooze." He expected to see the ship bank,indicating that his hint was being acted on.
Instead the ship's nose went down. Scott, with a little laugh ofamusement at Chickering Brown's fears, found additional terrors for theyoungest of the pair with them.
"Yes," he agreed, "and then the spectre that always appears in theclouds might fly down on us and say 'boo!'"
He turned, as they glided, high above the swamp.
"How about it, Garry? Wouldn't that be awful?" Garfield Duncan,fifteen-year-old student-pilot and assistant to an airport manager'snephew, answered seriously.
"Terrible!" he agreed, "but it would be Chick's own fault. He was sointerested in the mystery that he vowed he wouldn't be scared."
"Well!" Chick hoped for one means of allaying his fears--light. "Whydon't you throw over a landing flare, Scott! It's pitchy-black down inthe marsh."
"Scott will get us down, even without power." Garry voiced hisconfidence in the test pilot who knew the channels and open waterspaces like a book. "Great Scott," as they had nicknamed him, made manytest flights for the American branch of a foreign seaplanemanufacturer; of late, since an airport had been inaugurated inconnection with the seaplane "base," Scott had flown over the marsh atnight, conducting tests of new lighting equipment, spotlight,searchlight and beacon.
"If you're afraid," he added, "try whistling, Chick, my boy! I've heardthat ghosts won't come around if you whistle."
Usually Garry did not tease his younger chum; but Chick had been soconfident of his own bravery, had so insistently begged to be one ofthe "spook trappers," that Chick's terror in the face of darkness--andof nothing worse, so far--prompted him to be a little sarcastic.
"It's all very well to sneer," said Chick. "I wasn't scared, back inthe design room--but here--" he stopped. They had been filingblue-prints in the plant of an Italian aircraft building company whenScott, its test pilot, had come quietly into the blue-print room whereGarry made the multitudes of blue-prints from pen drawings for the manydetailed parts of the company's product.
The secrecy of his entrance had fascinated Garry's more youthfulcompanion, who filed the blue-prints and sketches. Chick had caught ahint of something secretive about Scott; it had fired his readyimagination and he had been so eager to hover close that Scott, after amoment of hesitation, had included him in the proposal he had made.
"You both realize how serious that Sky Spook scare has come to be," hehad whispered. "I wasn't going to say anything to Chick, because he'spretty young--" at once Chick had denied the insinuation, "--all right,Chick," Scott had continued. "Just the same, I wasn't going to includeyou--but it may help, at that--if you are 'game' and not scarey."
Assured of Chick's absolute bravery and perfect gameness the test pilothad suggested that he wanted to "get to the bottom--or top--of thespook business."
"Ever since the first pilot cracked up," he had said, "and explainedthat he thought he saw a spooky-looking crate flying straight at himout of a cloud, I've thought he was trying to 'cover up' his owncarelessness with that story. The next one to see 'it' must have caughtthe scare and had an overdose of imaginittis. But it has gotten intothe newspapers and they call the new airport 'Mystery Airport.' It'sruining business for Don McLeod's uncle, and I'd like to help him outby proving that there isn't any ghost ship flying in and out of theclouds to make a pass at every pilot whose firm gives the new airportits business."
Garry had agreed with Scott's theory that some hidden enemy was tryingto ruin the airport's business, and hamper its growth. Readily he hadconsented to help Scott with his simple plan, which required that withScott the two youths would fly, that night, inviting the appearance ofthe ghostly, or human apparition, at which time Scott felt confidentthat he could run down the culprit and end the scare before it furtherharmed the morale of the flying force or resulted in the loss ofcontracts for air line hangar space and landing and take-off fees.
The eagerness with which Chick had seconded the plan, his pleading tobe included in the airplane's passengers as an observer and signalman,his stout declarations of his complete fearlessness, had suddenlybecome empty boasts when the three-place ship had reached the vicinityof the swamps adjacent to the airport but not yet drained and preparedfor filling in. Eventually the greater part of the swamps would bechanged into good ground. Engineers were already preparing to drainaway the salt tides flowing in from Long Island Sound and Little NeckBay. Unless the unexplained mystery of the spectral sky denizen couldbe settled, it seemed unlikely that the swamp land need ever bereclaimed for airport expansion.
Scott, for years the hangar supervisor and chief test pilot for theairplane construction plant and seaplane base which had existed beforethe airport project in combination with them had been started, was veryanxious, it seemed, to end the ghost scare.
With his two youthful aides, confident Garry and shivering Chick, hemade a good descent to the surface of a wide sheet of enclosed, shallowwater, let the amphibian craft, which could make either earth or waterlandings, run out of momentum, and then sat back, loosening his helmetchin straps.
"Here's the full plan," he turned around in the cockpit in the dark,salty-smelling marsh, silent except for the plash of a leaping fish orthe cry of a gull seeking a belated dinner, "I didn't want to be seentalking too long at the plant. You never know who 'might be'--you know!"
"I understand," admitted Garry. "Let's hear it all."
"I went to Don as soon as I left you--and he's managed to get Mr.McLeod to let him go aloft in the Dart." He referred to a light, fasttwo-seater, the personal property of the airport manager, which hisseventeen-year-old nephew had secured for the evening. "Now, Don is asgood an amateur pilot as you'll find; but he lacks stunting experience.He will come here, set down, and then I'll take the Dart and keep itwarmed up and ready, while Don, with you two for observers, will go upand cruise around--and
invite Mr. Ghost to come at you!"
Chick shivered and muttered under his breath. "If Mr. Spectre shows up,you signal to me----"
"I know." Garry recalled arrangements used in other nightcommunications, during night tests. "If the spook appears in theclouds, we set off a red flare. If 'it' takes off from the ground, wegive you a green Verey signal and you'll be able to catch anythingslower than greased lightning in that Dart--and drive down the ghostand prove it's only some human person, after all."
"Well, that's what I hope to do."
"Sup--supposing it isn't a h-human being?"
"That would tickle me to pieces, Chick, old top," laughed the pilot."I'd sort of like to have it turn out that way. Why? Because I nevershook hands with a ghost, and it ought to be a right nice experience."
"He--it would scare you out of your togs!" scoffed Chick.
"Oh, no!" Scott assured him. "Spectres, if they really do exist, can'thurt you. It's only your fear that can do you any harm. Now, I likespooks!---"
"Yes?" Garry pointed up toward the July night sky. "Well, there's one!Go up and get acquainted. We'll wait here!"
He had meant to joke, to terrify Chick; but he became silent and atrifle awed.
There was--something!--black against a luminous Summer cloud!
