uld
steal an airplane and escape without a trace."

"Oh, I don't know, Bob. You remember last winter when that aviator
from the upper end of Long Island was last seen flying across the
Sound toward the Connecticut shore and was never seen or heard of
again."

"But, Frank, here forty-eight hours have passed. Here we are, Tuesday
morning. Dad has wired every city, town and hamlet in the East. Not a
sign of the machine, nor of the men."

It was, in truth, Tuesday morning. The morning when, everything going
as planned, they should have been setting out on their flight to the
Hampton camp in New Mexico. Instead, the boys were moodily pecking at
breakfast, the airplane had disappeared, and the trip seemed more and
more remote.

To add to their worries, they had been unable to reopen communication
with their chum, Jack Hampton, by radiophone, since that first and
only time the previous Saturday afternoon. All their efforts to call
him met with no response. The day before, moreover, a telegram had
been sent Mr. Hampton by Bob Temple's father, informing him in code of
recent mysterious occurrences, including the theft of the airplane,
telling him the boys had tried to call Jack by radiophone, but without
response from his powerful New Mexico station, and asking whether all
was well with him. No answer had yet been received.

"Mister Robert," said Mary, the maid, entering the breakfast room, as
the two boys sat in moody silence, "your father wants you and Mister
Frank in the library."

The boys hurried to the library at once, where they found Mr. Temple,
very grave of face, bent above a lengthy telegram which he had just
finished decoding.

"It's from Jack," he said, "And the poor fellow is in a lot of
trouble. Listen."

He read:

"Dear Friends, Father has been kidnapped. Two men in airplane carried
him away into Old Mexico. Since getting your telegram few minutes ago
realize it may have been your airplane. Wasn't there and didn't see
it but description of machine given by cowboy on the range who saw it
all tallies with description of your machine."

Mr. Temple paused for breath, and Frank, who had been computing
mentally, interrupted.

"Our plane could do it all right," he said. "That is, if--When did
this happen?"

"Monday noon or a little later," said Mr. Temple.

"Well, they stole it sometime Saturday night," said Frank. "Yes, they
wouldn't have had to make more than eighty miles an hour steady flying
to d