"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 do it. But where did they get the petrol?"
"Why," Bob reminded him, "we had her stocked with oil and gas. And the
spare tanks filled, too. That wasn't impossible."
Mr. Temple resumed:
"Haven't answered your radiophone calls because didn't get them. Have
been so busy running around in circles, haven't had time to watch the
telephone. But if you call me when you get this shall be on the watch.
Father was kidnapped Monday noon. No word from him. Need your help."
"He certainly does," said Mr. Temple, emphatically, as he concluded
reading. "And he'll get it, too. Come on, boys, let's call him up."
Evidently Jack was on the watch for their signal, for he answered at
once, and as soon as each had tuned to their private 1,800-metre wave
length, the Temples and Frank were given the full details as to the
kidnapping of Mr. Hampton.
He had been riding horseback across the range, miles from any oil
derricks or pumping stations, on his way to visit one of the
"independent" oil operators.
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