Boy's Cinema (1935-39)

24 rods of iron, and it was situated high up in the light-hand wall, flush with the ljroad compound in which Tailspin and Skeeter had landed some time previously —a circumstance which they discovered when they stumbled towards the aper- ture for a breath of fresh air. They made another discovery as they raised themsolves on tiptoe and pressed their faces close to the bars. Some of Emanuel Casmetto's underlings were engaged in the task of pushing their 'plane across to a gasoline pump at the far side of the enclosure. "They're going to refuel her," said Skeeter. "Yes, but not for our benefit," Tail spin rejoined grimly. " No doubt Casmetto means to make use of her. He'll probably fit her out with a machine- gun, so's she can take the olace of the ship that the Eagle destroyed." "The Eagle," Skeeter mused, pro- nouncing the name in a low voice. "I sure wish he was around now. Whoever that guy is, he's certainly on our side." Tailspin bit his lip. "Yeah." he said gloomily, "but even the Eaglo couldn't get us out of this jam " Escape! HALF tin hour after Emanuel Casmetto had ordered the removal of the captives to the dungeon, Tlill McGllire was summoned to the room in which the Spaniard and Horace Ray- more were seated. "McGuire," Casmetto told the rotund Yankeo cook in peremptory tones, "there are two prisoners in the cell at the end of the corridor. After you have fetched a meal for Senor Raymore and me, you had better take them something to eat. Nothing very palatable, you understand. Bread and water will suffice." McGuire nodded briskly, and then made his way back to his own quarters, where he prepared a repast for Casmetto and Raymore. This having been served, lie next set himself to the task of pro- viding for the occupants of the dungeon, and shortly afterwards he might have been seen tramping along the corridor that led thither. In his plump hands he carried a tray on which two flagons of water and some slices of bread had been placed, and on reaching the door of the dungeon he exchanged a greeting with a slovenly sentinel who was squatting outside it. The armed guard made as if to rise and open the door for him, but McGuire restrained him. "Don't put vourself to any bother, amigo," ho said in Spanish, addressing the sentry with some sarcasm. "I've got a key, anyway." lie let himself into the dungeon, and was standing at the top of the steps that led to the floor of it when he gained his first impression of the captives; and at sight of them his florid face was trans- formed by a look of utter amazement. It was an expression that was repro- duced on the features of Tailspin and Skeeter, for in that corpulent form at the top of the «tep< they recognised Bill McGuire of the "San Francisco Tribune," a newspaper man who had been in close contact with them some months before, when he had been writing a series of articles on civil aviation! It was with one accord that the two youngsters started forward to greet him, but McGuire had the presence of min.l to prevent them from speaking, and with a quick movement of his head he indi- cated the sentinel who was huddled in the corridor, Tailspin and Skeeter drew back, and waited in silence until Meduiie had closed the door, set clown the tray of February 29th, 1986. BOY'S CINEMA food and joined them on the lower level of the dungeon's floor. "Mac!" Tailspin said then, speaking i:i a hushed voice. " What in the world are you doing here ? What made you give up the newspaper racket?" "Yeah, and what brought you to a hornet's nest like this?" Skeeter put in. "Gee, Mac, I thought you were on the staff of the ' Tribune ' for life " McGuire glanced back over his shoulder cautiously, and then leaned closer to the two friends. "I'm still in the newspaper racket,"" ho whispered. " Sure, and I'm gettin' the best story that was ever written for the old ' Tribune '—a story that will one day cover the front page, boys. ' Wealthy American financier plans seizure of rich oi! fields on tropic island Supports Spanish terrorist in attempt to plunder Nazil's resources.' Can't you see those headlines?" Tailspin and Skeeter looked at him dully, too bemused to grasp his mean- ing. "Listen." McGuire continued, "you don't think I'd team up with an outfit like Raymore's and Emanuel Casmetto's, do you ? No, sir, I'm here on account of an investigation that started 'way back in San Francisco, and, before I'm through, the whole world will know just what kind of a rat Horace P. Raymore is. But, say, how did you fellers get here?" They gave a brief account of their adventures, and when they had finished the newspaper man stroked his fat chin thoughtfully. Then he addressed the pair of them in a solemn tone. "I've got to get you out of this dump," he stated. "There's no tellin' what Raymore and Emanuel Casmetto might do to you. See here, when I close the door of this dungeon it'll lock auto- matically, but I've got a key with me. and if I give it to you, you can let your- self out." He produced the key by which he had gained admittance to the cell, and he handed it to Tailspin, who accepted it thankfully enough, though not without some concern regarding the safety of the reporter. "Won't Raymore and Emanuel suspect you, Mac?" the youthful airman in- quired anxiously. "They've only got to find out that your key is missing, and they'll put two and two together." "Don't worry about me," McGuire re- joined. "I'll tell 'em you must've stolen it from mo while I was dishin' out your grub. But listen, wait until high noon before you make your getaway. Everybody around here will be takin' a siesta then. It gets too hot for 'em to stay awake." A minute or two later the newspaper man stepped out of the dungeon, and as the door closed behind him Tailspin and Skeeter were left alone in the murky atmosphere of their prison, where they whiled away an hour that seemed like an eternity. By that time the sun was at its zenith, and was heating down upon the compound and the surrounding dwellings with blistering fierceness, so that even in the dark confines of the dungeon the heat was almost unbearable. By that time, also, the drone of a man's snoring was audible to the cap lives beyonrl the stout door of their prison, a sound which told them fha* the sentry in the corridor had lapsed into a deep slumber. They waited another -juavter of an hour, and then Tailspin oxoke the silence that had befallen upon them "I guess it's now or never, Skeets," he said. "I'm ready when you are, Tommy," his mechanic answered in an nnilm tone. Evsry Tuesday Together they moved across to the, steps and climbed to the door, and a moment later Tailspin was inserting the key in the lock. Softly he turned it, and, as he drew open the door without a sound, he and his chum saw the re- cumbent form of the sentinel beyond the threshold, his rifle lying athwart his knees. The two friends crept out of the cell, and, coming abreast of the sentry, Skeeter stooped to lay hold of the man's rifle. In doing so he must have dis- turbed the sleeper, for the fellow roused himself all at once, but, ere he could apprehend what was happening, or give vent to any outcry, Taikpin leapt on him pantherishly and dealt him a blow that scattered his wits. Next second, the young aviator and his mechanic were hurrying along the corridor, and soon they had gained the compound, where they espied their 'plane standing near the gasoline pump from which it had been refuelled. There were a couple of soldiers drows- ing in the shadow cast by its wings, and these were startled into wakefulness as Tailspin and Skeeter arrived beside the machine. One fell to the butt of tho mechanic's borrowed rifle, however, and the other to the bunched knuckles of the pilot's right hand—and both were lying prone on the ground when tho ship took off with tho young Americans ensconced in the cockpits. It was the sudden roar of the 'plane's motor that raised a general alarm in the stronghold of Emanuel Casmetto, and as the craft was still climbing steeply from the compound groups of aimed men swarmed from the buildings on ovcry hand. Then there ensued a desultory blatter of musketry, and hot lead whistled close to the ascending fugitives. Several of the bullets ricocheted off the fuselage of the 'plane, but tho occu- pants were unscathed, and the swift- moving ship bore them higher and yet higher till there was little to fear from the rifles of their foes. A graver danger threatened them, however. For some of Emanuel Cas- metto's hirelings had dashed across the compound to an anti-aircraft gun, and soon this was being trained upon the soaring aerop'ane. "Tommy," Skeeter gasped, "they're going to blast us out of the sky with shell-fire!" Tailspin scarcely heard him. His head was turned towards the north, and his eyes were riveted upon an object that had appeared amongst the clouds. It was another 'plane, a 'plane of unmis- takable design—and one which the two youngsters from Three Point had learned to regard with a friendly if bewildered gaze. "The Eagle!" Tailspin ejaculated. The mystery ship was bearing down on Emanuel Casmetto's stronghold, was above the compound before the men at the anti-aircraft gun could load the breech; and suddenly a stream of death was raking tliem, cutting them down where they stood. Discharged through the propeller- shaft of the Eagle's 'plane, the rain of iron swept half the gun crew out of existence and drove the other half into a panic-stricken flight. It was a flight in which the remainder of Casmetto's hirelings joined as the withering (ire spread right and left amidst them, and in the space of a few minutes the entire compound had been cleared—except for those who had fallen under the fusillade. Ere then, Tailspin and Skeeter wero flying in a south westerly direction over the rolling panorama of Nazil, and as