WITH each day that passed, the Wayfield Squadron improved its operational capabilities. Rough edges were smoothed off in drills and practices; cadets and seniors alike added to their aeronautical knowledge by classroom lectures and practical exercises; administrative problems were met, analyzed and resolved. No small part of the progress was due to the additional work that Major Sam Tolliver and his staff put in during evenings and week ends. It became quite the usual thing to see numerous members about the headquarters building at all sorts of hours, studiously applying themselves off in the corner of a room or laboring over a piece of equipment. And the officers were not alone in their efforts, for cadets and seniors of all ranks frequently gathered together to tackle a project or to work as individuals about the place.

To Tom's surprise, Ed Dawson was one of those who spent a great deal of time around the headquarters. He was often to be seen poring over a book on aviation or tinkering with equipment of some sort. He became, in fact, something of a nuisance to Tom, since he was frequently borrowing materials from the supply room to practice with or to study. With Tom's approval, Dawson was sometimes permitted to work in the supply room itself, because in that way the supply personnel were able to avoid the time and trouble required to make out the memorandum receipts required whenever equipment was issued.

For his part, Tom found that his work was increased by the demands made by the squadron members. He grew accustomed to spending his spare time in the supply room, in order to accommodate those who wanted materials at odd hours. But he did not mind this in the least, realizing that the outfit would be all the better for the extra effort being made by so many of its members.

His principal concern was not the work that was required of him so much as his gradual realization that he was falling behind in his attempts to maintain up-to-date records and accounts. With Lieutenant Jim Ellis still absent from Wayfield for long periods of time, the burden of ensuring the proper functioning of the supply section fell even more heavily on Tom. Conscious of his great responsibility, he was anxious to keep everything in order and to carry on his duties perfectly. But, in spite of his good intentions, he continued to lose ground.

He did not realize how much he had fallen behind in his work until Ellis returned from one of his trips and found that several items of equipment that were supposed to be on the shelves could not be accounted for in Tom's files.

"I guess we'd better have an inventory as soon as we can, Tom. I know you've had a rough time of it because I've been away so much, but we've got to get these records straightened out," the supply officer pointed out.

"Okay, sir. Whenever you say," Tom replied, welcoming the suggestion.

With Doug Montgomery and another pair of cadets to help them, Ellis and Tom began their inventory early the following evening. At first the job went smoothly, but as the hours wore on, Tom grew alarmed. A sizeable number of missing items accumulated on the list that the lieutenant was compiling. Far more equipment was unaccounted for than Tom had imagined possible, and his concern mounted with each entry that the officer made on his statement of shortages.

"This looks bad, Tom," Ellis remarked finally, as the last record was checked.

"It beats me," Doug commented morosely.

"... I don't understand it," Tom said, shaking his head.

"I'm sure we'll find it somewhere around the outfit, all right, but we ought not to have so much stuff out without memo receipts," the supply officer stated.

"I know it, sir. I just don't see how it's happened."

"Well, we'll have the C.O. announce that all squadron property is to be turned in to the supply room. Then we'll re-issue it after we've checked it off," Ellis declared.

At the next regular meeting of the squadron, Major Tolliver took special pains to impress on all members the importance of adhering to proper procedures in drawing equipment and supplies. He then announced that he wanted all materials drawn either with or without receipts to be returned to the supply room.

Ellis, Tom and a small staff of assistants checked off the items that were brought back and were kept busy until late in the evening. But as the records of the turn-ins were compared with the list of shortages, there still appeared a number of discrepancies. Worst of all, the things that were missing were mostly ones of value.

Over the week end a few additional pieces of equipment were turned in, but the situation was not greatly improved.

A final check showed that materials worth several hundreds of dollars were still short. Troubled by the disappointing outcome of the check, Ellis and Tom again met with Tolliver. This time there was no disguising the major's concern, since, like the others, he was at a loss to understand how equipment of the value described could remain unaccounted for.

"Do you think that there has been any mistake in your records, Jim?" he asked the supply officer.

"Not a chance, as far as I can see. Tom and I have gone over the files several times, and the items that are missing were received by us but not issued on memo receipts," Ellis declared.

"What do you think about all this, Tom," the commander asked.

"I can't figure it out, sir," Tom answered bleakly. "I can't see how the stuff could have been removed from the supply room without someone knowing about it. But all the same, it's missing."

"Any chance of some one having broken in and stolen the property?" Tolliver wanted to know.

"I don't see how, but of course I couldn't swear to it. Did you ever notice any signs of anyone having broken into the supply room when I was away?" Ellis asked, turning to Tom.

"No, sir," Tom replied with a shake of the head.

"All your keys accounted for?" Ellis queried.

"Yes, sir. You and I, the major, and Nick are the only ones that have keys to the supply room. Then there's the one that is hanging on our key rack and that's all."

Tolliver's eyebrows raised quizzically as he asked, "Has that key been accounted for at all times?"

"As far as I know, sir," Tom answered. "I check the key board, which has duplicates of all the squadron keys hanging on it, whenever I open up or close the supply room. I've never noticed the key missing at any time, though."

"Well, I'm going to call on everyone again to make sure that they've returned all equipment. If this stuff doesn't show up then, I'll have to ask the police to investigate, for there can't be any explanation except that the material has been stolen," Tolliver announced.

The major's conclusion that a theft had taken place in no way relieved Tom's depression over the whole affair. In a sense he was absolved of any neglect in the matter, because there had been very few items that had not been properly handled; the property still missing had not been charged out in any way. Yet he could not help wondering if the chance to remove the equipment from the supply room had not been caused by his own lack of attention to duty or by his preoccupation with his own problems. He felt that this was not really so; but, since the unpleasantness had occurred while he was in charge of supplies, he had a nagging sense of guilt.

When Tolliver again took up the matter of returning missing equipment to Lieutenant Ellis, he pointed out to all that the property was valuable and must be presumed stolen if not turned in. The squadron members were impressed with his seriousness, and there was a shifting of feet and a turning of heads, especially when he mentioned calling in the police to investigate the matter. As soon as the group was dismissed an excited hum of conversation rose in the assembly room.

Making his way back to the supply room, Tom disconsolately flung himself into a chair. Glancing toward the desk, he spotted an envelope, and from where he was sitting he saw his own name printed on it in crude letters. Curious, he leaned forward, picked it up and examined it. There was no sign of who had written it, only his name in large, childish letters. It had been placed there during the evening, he was sure, for it had not been on the desk when he was in the room before the meeting.

Inside, he found a single sheet of paper. With rising excitement he read the printed message:

"'Carroll,'" it said. "'You'll find the missing stuff in the woodbin in Crynes' garage. Get it out tonight before there's trouble for you and him. A Friend.'"

Tom read and re-read the note and his anger mounted. Someone, he was sure, was trying to involve both Nick and himself in the theft of the squadron equipment. He made up his mind instantly that Ed Dawson was at the bottom of the whole affair. Instinctively he rose and started for Tolliver's office. Then he sat down again.

If Dawson had taken the equipment, there was no reason for him to write such a note. It would be far better for his purposes to have the police discover the missing materials in Nick's garage than to give Tom the chance to return it. If he, Tom, were to take the note to Tolliver at this stage of the game, it might look as if he himself were trying to use it as a device to cover up the return of the squadron property before Crynes was caught with it. Perhaps, he reasoned, Ralph Cross--maybe even Jane Dawson--had found out what Ed was up to and had taken this means of letting Tom get himself and his friend out of the trap that had been laid for them.

The more Tom thought over this idea, the more he liked it. As the note suggested, he could go to Nick's garage later, lug the material back, if it actually was there, and then say nothing about it. Next day it simply would be found in the headquarters, and no one would be any the wiser excepting the person who had written the note.

"Nothing was turned in, I suppose," Lieutenant Ellis remarked glumly as he entered the supply office.

"No, sir. No one has even walked by the place," Tom returned.

"Well, I guess I'll call it a night. I've got to go away again tomorrow. Can I give you a lift?"

"No thanks, Lieutenant. I think I'll stay on a while and see if I can make anything out of these records," Tom said.

Jane and Ed Dawson and Ralph appeared in the doorway as Ellis turned to leave.

"Could you give us a ride home?" Ralph asked.

"Sure. Glad to do it," the officer agreed heartily. "Everyone else left?"

"Just about," Ralph answered.

"Major Tolliver is leaving now," Dawson put in.

"Coming with us, Tom?" Jane asked as she stuck her head around the door frame.

"No thanks, I'm going to burn a little midnight oil," Tom replied with a smile.

"Well, the place is in your hands, Tom. Will you lock up the supply room and then let yourself out?" Ellis asked.

"Yes, sir. I'll take care of everything," Tom answered.

He waited for another five minutes after the others had left before making any move. Then, first going through the headquarters building to be sure that everything was tightly closed, he took a flashlight and started for Nick's garage.

He moved with sureness about the shop, for he knew exactly where to find the bin in which Nick piled the wood he used for the garage stove. Holding the light in one hand, he heaved upward the top of the huge box and moved the light beam around the interior. As he caught sight of the litter of wood slabs and logs that jammed the bin, he thought for an instant that the note had been nothing more than a hoax. He reached down into the box, awkwardly moving hunks of lumber. As he pried loose one large piece, he spotted a black metal container underneath. It took no more than a glance to make him realize that it was part of the missing radio equipment. Whoever had written the note had known where the stolen property had been hidden.

He hesitated only a fraction of a second. Then, fixing the flashlight in one corner of the bin so that it would illuminate the interior, he began yanking the mess of wood out of the box. One by one, the various bits of equipment were revealed. He lifted them out and stacked them carefully on the floor, then tossed the loose logs and lumber back into the bin. Most of the items were small, though a few were large and rather heavy. He decided to lug the heavy pieces back to the headquarters building first and then to load the others into a gunny sack which he saw lying in a corner of the garage.

It took but a short while to carry the first item, a section of a radio transmitter, back to the squadron headquarters. He looked at his watch and found it hard to realize that less than a half hour had passed since he had said good night to Ellis and the others. Returning to Nick's shop, he started his second trip, carrying a complete radio receiver.

Midway between the buildings, he heard the sound of a car motor. He paused for a second, then started to cut into the shadows. But the blinding beam of the car headlights caught him in stark relief, and he stood there frozen. Even before he heard the sound of voices, he realized that he had fallen into a well-set trap. Perspiration broke out on his forehead, despite the chill of the night air. To all appearances, he knew, he was caught red-handed with the property that had been stolen from the supply room. There could be no explanation, least of all any hint that Nick was in any way involved in the concealment of the equipment that had been in the bin. Any story, including the real one concerning the note that had told him where to find the missing property, would seem like a flimsy alibi, at best.

"What are you doing here, Tom?" Lieutenant Ellis queried in a sharp voice.

Tom shook his head, choking over the words that he wanted to pour out in explanation.

"Looks like our cadet supply officer is nailed with the goods." There was no mistaking the triumph in Ed Dawson's tone as he gathered with the others about Tom.

"What's going on, Tom? What are you doing with this stuff?" Ralph Cross asked anxiously.

"Give him a chance," Jane Dawson pleaded. "He can explain it if you'll only give him time."

"Explain it? He can explain it all right," her brother said sneeringly. "He's been trying to return the things he stole before the police get on to him."

"That's a lie!' Tom cried. "I... I... didn't steal . . ."

Quiet settled over the group. They stood motionless in the bright glow of the car lights, waiting for an explanation. But Tom added nothing to what he had already said. At length Lieutenant Ellis asked, "Where're the other things, Tom?"

"In the woodbin in Nick's garage," Tom murmured thickly.

"Let's move them to the headquarters, and then we'll go see the major," Ellis said, his voice heavy with concern.

In a few minutes the job was done. When the last item had been placed in the supply room, the group gathered in the doorway.

"Do you want to say anything?" Ellis asked.

Tom shook his head.

"Okay. I'm going to drop the rest of you off in town, then Carroll and I are going to Major Tolliver's home. I've phoned him and he's waiting for us. Let's go."

The ride to Wayfield was made in silence, but Tom's mind was a mad tangle of desperate thoughts. That a trap had been laid for him---one into which he had stupidly fallen--he was sure. He was convinced, too, that Ed Dawson was responsible for it. Neatly arranged so as to throw guilt on either Tom or Nick or both of them, the ruse had placed the former in the position of having to make a wild claim in order to justify his actions. No one in his right mind would believe that he had been tricked into staying after hours in order to investigate the message he had received, especially since he had not told anybody about it. Wryly, he had to admit to himself that that had been his first big mistake. And even if he were believed, suspicion would then automatically fall on Nick Crynes. There was no doubt in Tom's mind of the garage-man's innocence; but, as in his own case, that would be hard to prove, too.

He wondered what he could say to Tolliver. Already, he had discerned a coldness in the attitude of the usually friendly Ellis, and he could probably expect the same reaction from the major. He could understand this, and hardly blame the officers for being suspicious in view of his own inability to refute what apparently was clear proof of his involvement in the theft. Ralph and Jane had said nothing after the first brief remarks, their silence reflecting only utter dismay and consternation. Ed Dawson, of course, had found it impossible to conceal his glee, adding to Tom's conviction that he was the instigator of the whole thing.

Yet, he asked himself again, what could he say? That he had received a note telling him to look in Nick's shop for the stolen property? That he had simply kept it to himself and tried to return the materials in order that neither Nick nor himself might be entangled? It simply would not make sense, no one would believe it. Tolliver, Crynes, Red . . . no one ....

It was a grim and perplexed Tolliver who greeted them a few minutes later. He listened as Ellis told of stopping off with the two Dawsons and Ralph to have a milk shake on the way home and then returning to the squadron headquarters when Ed Dawson discovered that he had left his wallet there. In a halting manner, the supply officer next described how, when their car turned in toward the building, they had caught sight of Tom carrying one of the missing pieces of radio equipment. Finally, and with obvious discomfort, he told how Tom had refused to explain why it was that he had the squadron property.

"All right, Tom. Let's hear your story," Tolliver demanded quietly.

Tom hesitated. He had to say something. Tolliver would insist on that. And, ridiculous though it might sound, the true story was the only one to tell. There was nothing that could be left out and nothing to be added. Furthermore, he had always been taught to tell the truth, and now, in this time of crisis, the truth was the only thing that would save him.

In a low and stumbling voice, he told of receiving the note. Then he went on to speak of his reactions, of his first urge to tell the commanding officer about it and his reservations on that score. He described his amazement at finding the lost materials concealed in the woodbin and his determination to return all of them to the headquarters without letting anyone know how they had been found. At last, with a feeling of futility, he tried to explain to both officers his doubts about trying to make the others understand how it was that he had been found with the stolen equipment.

"I still don't see why you didn't tell us," Ellis said, a note of disbelief in his voice. "Where is the letter you received, Tom?" Tolliver asked. Tom fished in his pockets. First he searched one, then the others. As he vainly tried to locate the paper, a flush crept over his face. Hurriedly now, he emptied all of his pockets, but still he found no sign of the note. Nervously pounding one fist into his other hand, he sought to recall what he had done with the crude message.

"I . . . I must have left it in the supply room," he stuttered. "That's it. I left it on the desk... I must have .... "

"Carroll, are you sure you don't want to change your story? It doesn't add up . . ." Ellis started.

"It's the truth," Tom cried. "I've told exactly what happened."

"Okay, boy. We'll look for the note tomorrow," Tolliver said softly. "Now, can you think of anything else? Anything that you've forgotten to tell us?"

"Only . . . only that I think Ed Dawson is behind all this," Tom declared hotly.

Ellis snorted, skepticism written on his face, but Tolliver simply asked, "Why?"

"We've never been friends. He's always been out to get me, and now he's done it!" Tom exclaimed. "He's been working around the supply room and somehow managed to get the equipment out and put it in Nick's place. He knew I'd fall for that note to keep from getting Nick into trouble. And he was the one who brought you all back tonight. You said he told you he'd forgotten his wallet. That was just an excuse...."

"Hold on! That's a pretty serious charge you're making against Dawson," Ellis declared.

"It's a pretty serious thing he's got me blamed for, too," Tom shot back.

"Just a minute," Tolliver cut in. "Tom, I've got to be fair about this. You can see how it looks to all of us. You said you received a note, but you didn't tell anyone about it. You claim that you didn't want to involve Nick; but if you'd thought about it and gone to Nick, he would have been the first to advise you to come to me with your story. Now I'm not saying I don't believe you. But in fairness to the organization, and, yes, in justice to you, I've got to have this whole thing investigated. While that investigation is going on, though, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to suspend you .... "

"Suspend me!" Tom cried. "But . . ."

"I've got to do it, Tom," Tolliver said. "I haven't any choice in the matter."