"LOOK!" Danny cried, his heart choking in his throat. "He's going on! He didn't see us!"
The plane was indeed headed away from them. It was already over the wide expanse of the Canadian mainland, headed north into that vast region that was without roads or towns.
"He's gone," Jimmy said dismally.
Almost at that very instant the plane banked to the right. The boys sucked in their breath sharply. Maybe—sure enough! He was! The plane swung about and headed straight toward them, cutting speed and dropping lower and lower over the water.
The pilot banked sharply around them, so close that the boys could see his tousled hair and leather jacket. A second time he circled them, and a third, while the boys kept waving and motioning to him.
The plane gained a little altitude, circled until it was headed into the wind, then began to glide toward the water, the flaps down and the speed so slow it seemed to hang in the air.
"He's going to land!" Danny exclaimed.
With a prayer in his heart the young woodsman leaped into action! He jerked the starter rope on the big outboard motor. It responded with a roar. The sudden lurch as the prow of the boat raised out of the water almost sent Jimmy sprawling across the seats.
There wasn't a moment to lose! Danny headed straight toward the path of the plane, veered just enough so the pilot would know he wasn't going to crash into the plane, and came around in a shower of spray.
The plane made a good landing, but the instant the dangling float touched, it thrust crazily into the water. The light craft shuddered from nose to tail and heeled over before the startled pilot realized what was happening. The knife-like wing plowed deeply into the lake; the propeller stopped with a sputtering cough; and the plane began to settle back into the water.
Danny had the big motor wide open, sending the boat skimming over the lake toward the hapless plane.
"Hurry!" Jimmy shouted breathlessly. "Hurry!"
Danny reached back and shoved hard against the throttle, but the motor was already laboring as hard as it could.
It seemed to the two boys as though it took them an hour to bring the boat alongside the rapidly sinking craft, but actually it was only a matter of seconds. Danny missed the tail assembly by inches and stopped expertly at the cabin door.
"Come on!" the young woodsman cried to the pilot, standing in the boat and reaching for the door. "Hurry!"
The door was a little out of reach, but Jimmy grabbed an oar and manipulated the boat close enough for Danny to grasp the latch. Somehow they managed to get the door open. Danny gasped when he saw the pilot, face ashen white, sprawled half out of the seat, a big knot rising on his forehead.
"Help me, Jimmy!" he gritted, grasping the pilot beneath the armpits and pulling him.
The plane lurched suddenly and slipped another six or eight inches into the water as both boys scrambled to lift the unconscious pilot out of the plane cabin. As they dropped the injured man heavily into the bottom of the boat, the plane pitched again and slid silently beneath the water.
For a couple of minutes the two boys sat there staring at one another, their faces white and their hands trembling.
"Thank God!" Danny breathed reverently.
The pilot stirred a little and groaned softly. Danny leaned over him, feeling his pulse and wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.
"We'd better get him back to the house as quickly as we can, Jim," Danny said. "He might be badly hurt."
The stranger stirred again, shaking his head and brushing feebly at his eyes. "W-w-what happened?" he stammered.
"You had one landing float loose," the young woodsman told him.
He felt the knot on his forehead tenderly. "Is that why you boys were signaling me?" he asked. "I thought you were in trouble."
Danny started the motor and headed at top speed toward his home on Pine Creek. The injured man lay quite still in the bottom of the boat, but he was conscious and able to get to his feet without help when they pulled to a stop at the dock in front of the Orlis cabin.
Laddie barked loudly as the boat edged up to the dock, and both Mr. and Mrs. Orlis came running out. They helped get the man into the cabin and had him lie down on the couch in the living room.
After Clarence Gray, for that was the pilot's name, drank the tea Danny's mother made for him and ate a little toast, he swung his feet over the side of the couch and sat up uncertainly. "I feel a little better now," he said, "but I was certainly lucky that you guys spotted that damaged landing float and signaled to me."
"I wouldn't exactly call it luck, Clarence," Danny said. "It doesn't seem like luck to me considering the large area of lake you could have flown over and yet you came over us, and low enough so we could see what was wrong and signal to you. I think God was watching over you."
There was a long silence. "What do you mean by that?"
"God does watch over us," Danny replied quickly. "He even sent His own Son into the world to die on the cross for us so that we could believe in Him and have everlasting life."
"You sound like a preacher," Clarence replied good-naturedly, "just like an old preacher we used to have back home."
"I certainly don't know anything about preaching," Danny answered, "but I do know what the Bible tells us about sin and needing a Saviour and going to Heaven."
Clarence Gray squirmed awkwardly as though he didn't know what to do or say. And when Mrs. Orlis came in moments later to call them to supper, Danny heard him sigh gratefully.
When they had finished eating and were sitting around the table, Clarence said, "I want to get back to Warroad tomorrow. I've got to notify my superior about the plane and make arrangements to get my work up here finished."
"Your work?" Danny echoed.
"I'm with the Federal Communications Commission," Clarence Gray replied. "My job is keeping illegal broadcasting stations off the air."
Danny slid to the edge of his chair and leaned forward intently.
"There are all sorts of illegal broadcasting being done on short wave," Clarence went on. "Gamblers, smugglers, and enemy agents would all like to be able to get away with using our airways to suit their purposes."
"W-what do you do with them?" Danny asked. "After you catch them, that is."
"Oh, it just depends," the agent answered. "Right now I've got a case up here that I've got to clean up so I can get out to my new post in Colorado."
"Colorado?" Danny echoed.
"That's right. About sixty or seventy miles west of Iron Mountain."
Danny's face lit up. "Do...do you suppose I could go along with you?" he asked. "I've been praying and praying that I'd get to go to school in Iron Mountain, but I haven't had anyone to go with, and the folks don't want me to travel so far alone."
"I'd certainly be glad to take you with me," the government man said, "if it's all right with your folks."
"We'll see," Mr. Orlis answered simply. And Danny, who usually could tell what his dad meant, didn't know for sure whether or not he would get to go.
"It shouldn't take me over a couple of days, after I get some more detecting equipment up here, to find the guy who's messing up the army weather station's short wave reports from the Arctic. We've determined that he's broadcasting from around here somewhere. It'll just take a little work to find him."
Danny looked over at Jimmy. "Just think! Maybe spies or gamblers or smugglers are working right here in Angle Inlet!"
"It's a funny thing, though," Clarence continued. "He's using the call letters QNVD. Those are the letters of a licensed amateur over on Oak Island."
The color drained from Danny's face, and he felt the cold sweat come out on his forehead and the palms of his hands.
"That's me," he stammered. "I borrowed Red Hanson's broadcasting stuff from his folks. I...I'm the one!"