"I call this wretched luck!" Jack fumed. "It will take days to repair and repaint the _Spindrift_."

The accident had a subduing effect upon the boy, and the remainder of the day he tried to make amends to Penny. They swam together and played three sets of tennis. In each contest Penny won with ease.

"You're about the first girl who ever beat me at anything," Jack said ruefully. "Guess that rap on the head did me no good."

"How about the sailboat race?" Penny tripped him. "Didn't Sally win the lantern trophy?"

Grudgingly, Jack admitted that she had. "But the race was a fluke," he added. "The wind was tricky and favored Sally's old tub. It won't happen twice."

Annoyed by the youth's alibis, Penny turned and walked away.

At dinner that night, Mr. Gandiss suggested that Mr. Parker and his daughter might like to visit his steel plant and airplane factory on the mainland. Despite vigorous protests, Jack was taken along.

The buildings owned by Mr. Gandiss were situated across the river in the town of Osage. Occupying many city blocks, the property included an airplane testing ground, and was protected by a high guard fence electrically charged.

"Every employee must pa.s.s inspection at the gate," Mr. Gandiss explained as the taxi cab approached the entrance to the main factory. "We operate on a twenty-four hour basis now, and even so can't keep abreast of orders."

Lights blazed in the low rows of windows, and from the chimneys of the steel plant, fire leaped high into the dark sky.

"Will we be able to see steel poured from the furnaces?" Penny asked eagerly. "I've always wanted to watch it done."

"You may tour every building if your feet hold out," Mr. Gandiss chuckled.

A squat, red-faced man with pouchy eyes, halted the taxi cab at the gate.

"No visitors allowed here at night," he began in a surly voice, and then recognized the plant owner. His manner changed instantly. "Oh, it's you, Mr. Gandiss! How are you this evening?"

"Very well, thank you, Clayton. I have some friends with me who wish to see the plant."

"Drive right in," the gateman invited, swinging open the barrier.

The taxi rolled through the gate, and drew up in front of one of the buildings. Inside, fluorescent lights gave the effect of daylight.

Overhead carriers were lifting newly blanked and formed airplane parts from power presses, carrying them to sub-a.s.sembly lines.

"Raw materials, brought up-river by boats, enter one end of the building," Mr. Gandiss explained proudly. "Miraculously they come out the other end as finished airplanes ready for testing."

The plant had four main a.s.sembly lines along which the wings, fuselages, engines, tail surfaces, pilot and bombardier floors were a.s.sembled, he explained. In one room the party paused to watch row upon row of fuselages being put together ready for transfer to the main a.s.sembly line.

"You have a wonderful factory here, Mr. Gandiss," Penny's father praised, much impressed. "It must be a job to keep tab on the personnel."

"Oh, everything has been reduced to a system. One department meshes into another. But if production falls down in any one department, results could be serious." Mr. Gandiss frowned and added: "Now take those petty bra.s.s thefts. In a way it is a trivial matter, but the practice is spreading."

"The disappearance of parts hasn't curtailed production to any extent?"

"Not as yet, but it has caused our stockrooms serious annoyance. Then the loss on a yearly basis will become considerable. The guilty persons must be caught, and the organizers broken up before it gets more serious."

Mr. Gandiss escorted the visitors into another large room where hundreds of girls in slacks, their hair bound by nets, worked over machines with concentrated attention.

"Our beginners start here," he explained. "Strangely, we lose more bra.s.s and copper from this shift than anywhere else in the plant."

"How do you explain it?" Penny asked.

"The girls are new and we are convinced they are being misled by someone.

The entire situation has us baffled."

Few of the workers paid the visitors heed as they wandered along the rows of machines. However, a slovenly, sharp-eyed man with a push broom, watched them with deep interest. Known as Joe the Sweeper, though his real name was Joseph Jakaboloski, he once had been a skilled mechanic.

Two of his fingers were missing, and he no longer did any useful work.

"See that man?" Mr. Gandiss said in an undertone. "Shortly after he started working for us, two years ago, he had an accident that was entirely his own fault. We immediately put him in an easy job and still pay him his former salary. But he doesn't even sweep a room properly."

"Why not let him go?" Mr. Parker questioned.

Mr. Gandiss smiled and shook his head. "He was injured while working for us, so we are responsible for looking after him. We would like to pension him off. You see, he constantly stirs up trouble among the new employes."

Joe the Sweeper had been watching Mr. Gandiss with concentrated attention, though too far away to hear what was said. With amusing haste, he swept his way closer to the group. Finally he smirked and sidled up to the factory owner.

"Can I see you alone fer a minute, Mr. Gandiss?" he asked, his voice a whine.

"I am very busy," the factory owner discouraged him. "What is it you want?"

Joe edged even closer, dropping his voice so that it was barely audible above the clatter of the machinery.

"You been losin' copper and bra.s.s from your factory, ain't you?"

The direct approach startled Mr. Gandiss. He gazed at Joe keenly, then nodded.

"Well, maybe I kin help you. What's it worth?"

Mr. Gandiss was careful not to show his dislike for the man. "If you are able to provide information which will lead to the apprehension of the thieves, I'll see that you get a substantial salary increase."

Joe blinked and grinned. "Last night I seen a girl in this room stick a piece of bra.s.s into her shirt front. She carried it off with her."

"Who was the girl?"

"Dunno her name. A blond piece in blue slacks."

"I'm afraid your information is of no value," Mr. Gandiss said impatiently. "Unless you know who she is--"

"She's a new gal that's only been workin' here a few nights," Joe supplied hastily. "You'll give me that salary raise if I turn her in?"

"If your information proves correct."

Joe's eyes brightened with a crafty light and he jerked his head toward the left.

"You can't see her from here," he muttered, "but you can get her name easy enough. She's the gal that operates machine No. 567."