<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br/> <span class="cheaderfont">BUCK STEWART—AND A WARNING</span></h2>
<p>It was not a particularly jolly meal at Major
Honeywell’s that night. The major was
oppressed by grave fears of what might happen
to his young friends on their journey, and the
Airship Boys felt the seriousness of the step
they were about to take. However, youthful
spirits are buoyant, and the good-smelling, appetizing
dishes that were served them soon drove
away dull gloom and revived the boys’ spirits.
As Alan said:</p>
<p>“What’s the use of sitting here staring at
each other across the table as if we were at a
funeral? Nobody is going to die or even get
hurt. It’s no use trying to be melancholy on a
full stomach, and I, for one, am going to laugh
right now.”</p>
<p>The dessert course was just being served
when there came a ring at the doorbell, and a
few minutes later the maid announced that a
reporter from the <cite>Herald</cite> wanted to see either
Mr. Napier or Mr. Hope.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[47]</span></p>
<p>“Show the gentleman right in here,” said
Major Honeywell, after the boys had agreed
to see him.</p>
<p>The young man who came in was slightly
larger and older than either Ned or Alan. He
was tall, wiry, and had the cool, assured bearing
of one who has survived many rebuffs and still
got what he wanted. As he entered the dining
room door, both Ned and Alan sprang to their
feet and rushed impulsively to meet him.</p>
<p>“Buck Stewart!” they shouted joyously,
pumping his arms up and down. “Well, if this
isn’t both the most unexpected and the luckiest
thing! We’ve been wanting to have a talk with
you for two days past, and meant to ask the
managing editor about you Tuesday, only we
were interrupted and got so flustered over it
that we left before remembering that you were
one of the main reasons for our call.”</p>
<p>“What good fairy brought you here to-night,
Buck?” asked Ned, pulling the newcomer down
into a chair at the table and shoving a piece of
pie in front of him.</p>
<p>“I’d rather eat that pie than talk right now,
but I suppose I’ve got to answer your question
first,” said Buck. “We reporters always are
in hard lines. You ask how I happen to be<span class="pagenum">[48]</span>
here? Well, it was this way: The night city
editor called me over about an hour ago and
gave me an assignment on you two chaps.”</p>
<p>“Why, what news is there about us that the
<cite>Herald</cite> could use?” asked Ned, exchanging a
rapid glance with Alan and the major.</p>
<p>Buck removed a longing eye from the piece
of pie to reply:</p>
<p>“We learned in some way that unknown
parties had made you a cash offer of something
like three hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars
for the <em>Ocean Flyer</em> and that you turned
them down cold. Is that true? Also, who were
the people who wanted to buy the <em>Flyer</em> at
such an astounding cash figure, and for what
purpose did they want it? If you’ll give me
full details I’ll be much obliged.” This as the
reporter pulled a folded bundle of note paper
and a pencil from his pocket. “These prospective
buyers didn’t represent any one of the warring
nations in Europe, did they?”</p>
<p>“That’s just what we don’t know and what
we feared,” said Alan. “I’m afraid that we
can’t give you much dope for a story, though,
Buck, because we know as little about them as
you do.”</p>
<p>Then he went on to tell about Mr. Phillips,<span class="pagenum">[49]</span>
the go-between’s mysterious call, and the telephone
conversation with the man with a strong
German accent.</p>
<p>“I’m sure that I’ve heard his voice somewhere
before and that not so very long ago, too,”
added Ned. “I’ve racked my brains ever since
trying to place him.”</p>
<p>“Huh, sounds funny,” commented the reporter
musingly, “but you certainly haven’t given me
much of a lead for the ‘story’ I was after.
Well, I’ll be going and not interrupt your little
party here any further.”</p>
<p>“Wait a minute, Buck,” said Ned. “We
haven’t told you yet why we wanted to see
the <cite>Herald’s</cite> managing editor about you.”</p>
<p>“That’s so,” said Buck, sitting down more
comfortably in his chair. “Now if one of you
gentlemen will hand me a fork, I’ll dispose of
this mince pie while you’re spinning the yarn.”</p>
<p>So, while the reporter was busy making the
pie disappear, Ned told him of Bob Russell’s
predicament in Belgium and what they proposed
to do towards a rescue.</p>
<p>“We want you to go with us, Buck,” said
he, “just as you did the time we made the
‘twelve-hour’ London-to-New York flight two
years ago with the coronation pictures for the<span class="pagenum">[50]</span>
<cite>Herald</cite>. The managing editor will surely let you
go for the two or three days needful when you
ask him, especially as it will enable the paper
to get a representative right at the front, with
no bull-headed censor to edit his ‘copy.’”</p>
<p>“If the boss won’t let me off, I’ll throw up
the job anyway,” shouted Buck, jumping up in
great excitement. “Why, Bob Russell and I
are old friends, just as you are, and I don’t
want to leave him in the lurch any more than
you do. It’s mighty good of you to give me
this chance to make one of the rescue party.
Count on Buck Stewart, boys—hair, tooth and
nail!”</p>
<p>The reporter’s enthusiasm was contagious.
All three sprang to their feet, and, with exclamations
of mutual pleasure, were shaking hands to
seal the compact when—</p>
<p>“Ting-a-ling-ling! Ting-a-ling-ling!” went
the telephone bell.</p>
<p>“Ned,” called the major, who answered the
call, “it’s somebody that wants to speak with
you personally—<em>a man with a marked German
accent</em>.”</p>
<p>The little company around the dining table
stared curiously at each other as Ned Napier
took up the receiver.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[51]</span></p>
<p>“Hello! This is Mr. Napier.... Yes, I’m
one of the owners of the <em>Ocean Flyer</em>. Who is
this speaking and what do you want?”</p>
<p>The voice at the other end of the line was
harsh and guttural. The words were spoken in
a truly menacing tone:</p>
<p>“You do not need to know who I am. It is
sufficient that I warn you. We who are banded
together in this country know this thing that
you think of doing. We know that you intend
a trip in your flying ship to the war zone. Take
our advice and do not attempt it. You are being
closely watched and we will not hold ourselves
responsible for what may happen if you try to
carry out your plan. You are young and life is
dear to you. Beware!”</p>
<p>The telephone clicked abruptly at the other
end of the line and the threatening voice was
still. Ned sat as if petrified, his face a
study of mingled amazement, indecision and
indignation.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter, Ned? Who was it? Was
it that same person who called up about the
<em>Flyer</em>?” cried the others crowding around him.</p>
<p>“Yes,” replied Ned, “it was the same voice
and I am sure that I have heard it before.”</p>
<p>Then he went on to tell them of the ominous<span class="pagenum">[52]</span>
threats of the mysterious stranger. A chorus
of exclamations followed his recital.</p>
<p>“The blackguard!” ejaculated Major Honeywell.
“We ought to set detectives on his trail.”</p>
<p>“Small chance of ever catching him that way
with the meagre clues we have,” said reporter
Buck. “Besides, we haven’t time to monkey
with anything like that,—unless, of course, you
boys decide that it is better not to risk the
enmity of these unknowns. They evidently mean
business.”</p>
<p>Ned’s lips had fixed themselves into a grim,
straight line, and Alan’s frown was no less
determined.</p>
<p>“All he hopes to do is to frighten us into
selling the airship to him,” said Alan, “and I
don’t believe that his big threats were anything
but sheer bluff. Why, they wouldn’t dare attack
us right here in the heart of civilized New York.”</p>
<p>“Whoever they are, or whatever they may
try to do, we’re not going to let a phone call
scare us out of this effort to save Bob Russell,”
said Ned. “We’re all ready to start now except
for getting the <cite>Herald’s</cite> permission to let Buck
here go with us. He can see the managing editor
about that the first thing in the morning, and
then we’ll be off immediately.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[53]</span></p>
<p>“But if this gang really has you boys spied
upon, they will certainly make some attempt to
stop you,” argued Major Honeywell.</p>
<p>“Nobody stands any chance of stopping us
once we get up in the air,” answered Ned, “but,
as you say, we may as well try to make our get-away
as secretly as possible. I would suggest
that instead of starting out by daylight to-morrow,
as we planned, that we wait until midnight.
Each of us can leave his house at a different
time during the day and go about as if we have
changed our minds and called the trip off. Then,
just in time to reach the Newark factory, each
one can start off alone. We should be able to
disarm any suspicion in that way.”</p>
<p>Everybody approved heartily of Ned’s scheme
and parted that night with a little more earnestness
in their handshakes than usual. All of the
road back home the Airship Boys cast furtive
glances over their shoulders every now and then,
but no sign of any followers was visible.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum">[54]</span></p>
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