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pretty desolate. I think we can drop to a lower altitude without breaking any air regulations.”
    The pilot eased back on the power and allowed the nose of the airplane to drop a few degrees below the horizon. The large hand of the altimeter slowly moved counterclockwise, indicating a descent.
    Randy leveled out at about five hundred feet, skillfully avoiding the hills. The cleft in the trees grew wider, bringing the road into view.
    â€œLook!” Joe yelled. “That’s where our car turned over. The saplings we used for leverage are still there!”
    â€œStart taking pictures,” Frank ordered. “I’ll keep an eye out for anything of special interest.”
    Joe gripped the camera and pointed it downward. Randy banked the plane so the young detective could take more direct aim. Joe made several exposures as the pilot circled the area, gradually widening his turns.
    â€œI just spotted something!” Frank shouted.
    â€œWhat is it?” Joe readied the camera.
    â€œIt looks like the roof of a small cabin,” Frank replied. “If the sun weren’t directly overhead, it would be hidden in the shadows. It’s surrounded by trees and brush.”
    â€œI see it!” exclaimed Joe. He focused the camera and released the shutter.
    â€œThe cabin is near the spot where we saw Bush Barney,” Frank declared.
    â€œDo you think he could be hiding out there?” Joe questioned.
    â€œIt’s possible. And perhaps our friend with the shotgun too!5”
    The pilot rolled out of the turn. “We’ll fly straight and level for a few seconds,” he said. “If we continue those tight turns for too long, we might get vertigo.”
    Their straight course took them over an area on the opposite side of the road. Frank suddenly noticed a rectangular-shaped field that looked like a pasture.
    â€œFly over that way,” he said to Randy, pointing almost directly ahead.
    The pilot eased the plane into a course around the narrow clearing. Frank and Joe saw that the grassy field was bordered by trees and dense brush. At one end loomed a high, steep hill.
    â€œWhat do you make of it?” Frank asked, glancing at the pilot. “Do you think a small plane could land there, and take off?”
    â€œI doubt it,” Randy said. “But let’s go down for a closer look-see.”
    He dropped the plane’s nose steeply, pulling out over the clearing below tree level. He carefully dragged the field, then applied full power and turned sharply away from the steep hill ahead.
    â€œThat clearing is only about nine hundred feet long,” he told the boys. “The approaches are very bad. I doubt whether anyone could get a plane in there without rolling it up into a ball. And even if a landing were possible, he’d never be able to take off again.”
    The boys’ thoughts turned back to the airplane they had encountered on the road. If it had crashed, where was the wreckage? It must have pulled up and gone off. Did the roadblock and the red flare have something to do with the maneuver ?
    Frank took over with the camera. Quickly reloading it, he photographed the open area. Joe peered through his binoculars. Suddenly he snapped up in his seat.
    â€œDown in the clearing!” he shouted. “See those two men stalking along the edge!”
    The pilot banked the plane and lined up for another low pass. As they approached, Frank also spotted the two figures. Joe focused his binoculars more sharply.
    â€œI’m not sure,” he yelled excitedly, “but I think one of those men is Bush Barney!”
    As the plane roared closer, the two men whirled around. They glanced up, then turned and ran into the woods.
    â€œQuick!” Frank shouted to Randy. “Pull around and make another low pass!”
    The pilot again pulled up steeply to turn away from the hill ahead. But just as he pushed the throttle forward for more power, the engine suddenly