The boys concluded at once that this great body of water must be the Atlantic Ocean, and when they saw a fair-sized town nestling among the trees at the point where the river joined the sea, their chart told them that the stream was the Essequibo River, and the collection of low-roofed buildings was none less than Georgetown!

A few minutes later, they were circling the town to locate their landing-field which was to be marked with a large white letter T. Seeing it on the second turn, they swept down amongst a curious and half-frightened throng, and taxied to a stop.

To their relief and gratification, they found that their rivals had not yet appeared.



CHAPTER XVI

TRICKED BY RIVALS

Correcting their watches with Georgetown time, as given to them by Mr. Whiteshore, the Englishman in charge of the field, the boys found to their joy that they had arrived five minutes ahead of schedule. This would give them, if they wished to take it, a trifle more than three hours to spend in Georgetown.

But first must come business; they must go over the machine very carefully and see if the long, hard run from Panama had done any damage; and they must replenish their fuel, oil, and water supply. They were happy to find both engines in fine shape, thanks to the possibility of alternating them in transit, and beyond a number of scratches and the cracked glass made by the condors in their attack in crossing the Andes the airplane was in perfect shape. Paul climbed up and examined the helium-gas valves, of which there were three in each wing, one for each of three compartments, and announced that the pressure showed only an insignificant decrease. At the rate of escapage indicated, they would have plenty to last them for the whole trip. This was reassuring knowledge, for no envelope can be made so impervious that light gases will not escape at all. The body compartment also showed good pressure.

It took them an hour and fifteen minutes to replenish the fuel tanks and water radiator and put everything in shape. Just as they were finishing up, a cry from the curious crowd around them called their attention to the western sky, and they saw an airplane approaching. This developed rapidly into the unmistakable outlines of the Clarion, and in a few minutes the rival crew landed in the field.

Pete Deveaux sauntered over to the crew of the Sky-Bird II.

"Well, fellows," he said, with the sneer which seemed to be on his leathery countenance most of the time, "I notice you got in a little ahead of us. Congratulations! I suppose you're tickled to death."

"We're not quite that far gone; just a little bit alive," grinned Tom Meeks. "What made your crew so slow, Deveaux? Did you get wet in that rain last night and have to stop off and dry out your clothes?"

"Aw, cut it out; talk sense!" snarled the French flyer. He turned on his heel, fearing more of Tom's sharp thrusts if he lingered longer, and shot back: "You guys will have another laugh coming one of these days, mark my words!" With that he rejoined his companions.

Not at all worried at such a prophecy, our friends secured a native boy to guide them into the town, a quarter of a mile distant, leaving their airplane under guard of two Chinese out in the open, the field boasting no such thing as a hangar. At the little telegraph office of the town, John dispatched their report to the Daily Independent, also mailed at the local postoffice the promised films of the encounter with the condors.

They then purchased some breakfast and began to look about them. While it was still early, the narrow streets were quite well crowded with people, so much so that it looked to the visitors as if the inhabitants never slept. What they saw almost made them rub their eyes to make sure they were not in Asia instead of South America. There were dozens of almond-eyed Chinese within sight, dozens of black Hindoos in turbans and flowing garments, dozens of Parsees wearing long black coats and hats like inverted coal-scuttles; to say nothing of numerous Portuguese and English, the latter mostly merchants and plantation owners.

The roofs of the buildings were slanting, with wooden or galvanized iron walls. Some of the more important of them, such as stores, warehouses, government buildings, etc., were quite large, and stood upon piles to keep them out of the way of floods which often sweep the lowlands in the rainy season. In many of the streets ran canals, which their small guide told them, in pidgeon-English, were drains for the floods. And he also said that the long embankments which the boys saw stretching along the sea front were dykes built at great expense by the sugar planters to keep these same floods from washing the rich soil of their fields out into the ocean.

After purchasing some fresh fruit and groceries for their aerial larder, the little party betook themselves back to the landing-field, on the way passing numbers of pretty little houses which stood in the midst of beautiful gardens filled with tropical plants.

As they neared the field, they saw that quite a crowd had collected since their departure. Pushing their way through the concourse about their own airplane, they were surprised to find Pete Deveaux and Chuck Crossman just jumping down from the wings. These flyers hurried away through a gap in the circle of onlookers toward their own machine before our friends could accost them.

The Sky-Bird crew were considerably put out at noting this situation, for they had particularly told the Chinese guards to let no one meddle with the Sky-Bird. The Celestials were squatting unconcernedly upon the ground, one on either side of the airplane, as John rushed up and said to one of them; "Didn't I tell you not to let any strangers around this machine?"

"No lettum stranger lound," protested the fellow. "Him both flylers alla samee you. Like-um see, you see; like-um see, he see."

"Oh, ginger!" exclaimed John, turning to his comrades, in clear disgust, "the stupid dunce thinks those fellows belong to us and we to them, just because we all wear the same sort of flying clothes! Did you ever see the like?"

Paul now took up the questioning. "What were those fellows doing up there?" he asked of the Chinaman.

"No tellee me; no tellee Lee," was the response, as the fellow jerked his head in the direction of his comrade. "Just lookee over alla samee you do li'l bit ago."

"Were they in the cabin?" demanded Paul.

"No go in klabin."

They walked around the machine giving it a cursory looking over, but could find nothing out of the way, and every one of them felt considerable relief.

"I guess they were only taking a look to see if our construction was the same as theirs," suggested Bob. This seemed a plausible explanation, and they accepted it, although with some misgivings.

About ten minutes later they saw the crowd over in the other side of the field scattering, and then the Clarion shot up into the air. In a few minutes it was pointed down the coast and making good headway.

Our friends were not quite ready, but when the other machine was a mere speck against the southwestern sky, they hopped off themselves, with Paul at the throttle. Not one of the party had any doubt but that they could catch their rivals before the latter should arrive at Para, where they were due at six o'clock that evening. It needed only that first stage of the journey from Panama to Georgetown to show them that they had either the speediest craft or the most skillful crew.

Paul mounted to a height of about two thousand feet, then let the Sky-Bird straighten out in the direction of their next stop. He opened up the throttle little by little, and the machine rapidly gained momentum. But somehow the young pilot was dissatisfied. Finally he hitched the stick over to the notch which should have brought the craft into a speed of 150 miles, and watched the speedometer closely.

"Humph!" he ejaculated, after fifteen or twenty minutes.

"Say, Paul," cried Bob just then, "we're losing on the Clarion. She's clear out of sight now."

"Why don't you tell me something I don't know?" growled Paul in a tone very queer for him.

"What's the matter with you, Buddy?" demanded John, stepping up. "You seem to have an awful grouch on, some way!"

"Got a good reason for it," snapped Paul. "This is enough to make a preacher almost swear."

"Don't talk, but speed her up a bit if you don't want them to get away," advised John.

"She doesn't act right, somehow," said Paul. "The Sky-Bird ought to be hitting it up to a hundred and fifty right now, but she's only making a hundred and fifteen. She acts groggy; don't you notice it?"

"I thought myself she was riding a little rocky—sort of out of balance," admitted John.

"Take the stick and try her yourself," said his brother.

John did so. For fifteen minutes he said nothing, but worked the throttle and watched the speedometer. Then he called Paul again to the seat.

"You might as well take her, Buddy," declared John with a puzzled shake of his head; "I can't do any better with her than you. She wallows along like a man with a load of buckshot in his pockets—heavy—and seems out of equilibrium, too!"

"What do you suppose is the matter, John?" asked Tom Meeks.

"I'll bet Pete Deveaux and that Chuck Crossman have been tampering with her, back there in Georgetown," declared Bob.

"I don't know; it certainly looks kind of suspicious," admitted John Ross. He thought a moment. "Cattails and jewsharps!" he exclaimed very suddenly.

"What now?" asked Bob.

"I believe I've hit the trouble," stated John, with his brown face a shade paler. "You know we saw those fellows monkeying around our wings. It would be an easy matter to trip one or more of those valves and let some of the helium out! That would make us heavier, and if more gas were let out from one wing than from the other, we would be out of balance in the bargain."

This declaration of John's brought a startled and troubled look to the faces of his companions. All knew that if Pete Deveaux had engineered such a dastardly trick as John hinted at, a handicap would be in store for the Sky-Bird's crew all through the remainder of the race, for it would be impossible to get a renewal of their helium-gas supply before reaching their own country again, and then it would be too late.

"What shall we do?" came from Bob.

"Do? There's nothing to do now, but to keep on flying at the best gait we can until we reach Para," decided John. "When we get there we'll have a chance to find out what is really wrong."

This seemed the wisest course to pursue. So Paul, vexed though he was at the contrary actions of the airplane, buckled down to the job of guiding the machine and complained no more. But he made up his mind that if investigations proved the rival crew had been tampering with the Sky-Bird II he, for one, would do his part in giving them a warm time should they meet on the ground again.

At noon while John and Tom slept, Bob relieved Paul, and for an hour they made a little better time by working both engines; but, afraid of overheating the one they termed their "night engine", they went back to one motor for the rest of the journey into Para, where they arrived an hour late. And it was to find bad news awaiting them.

The landing-field official announced that the Clarion's flyers had left not fifteen minutes before for Freetown, Africa. And upon investigating the helium valves in the wings of the Sky-Bird, our boys found to their dismay that fully a third of the pressure was gone, indicating that an equal quantity of gas had escaped in some manner.

It may be added that there was very little doubt in their minds as to this manner.



CHAPTER XVII

ACROSS THE ATLANTIC

Our friends looked at each other dismally when they had ascertained the cause of the Sky-Bird's sluggish flying. Paul and Tom even gave the craft a tentative push, and found that the loss of her helium had made her so much heavier to move over the ground that the difference was manifest at once.

"This looks kind of black for us, fellows," remarked Bob.

"And we've got those scoundrels to thank for it without the shadow of a doubt," put in Paul, with flashing eyes. "I'd give a year of my life to get my hands on that Pete Deveaux right now."

"It's lucky they got out ahead of us," added Tom significantly.

"Well, if they were here, and if we thrashed the stuffing out of the entire bunch, that wouldn't put back our lost helium and former speed," said the practical John. "What we've got to do now is to try to remedy matters."

"Easier said than done, I'm thinking," Tom observed. "We can't get any more helium here; in fact, not until we get back to Panama. Of course that will be too late."

"I don't know about that," hinted John.

"What's your remedy?" asked Bob.

"I know," said Paul. "The machine's out of balance now, because they have let more helium out of one wing than the other, and none at all out of the fuselage. By letting some out of our body tank, and enough out of the lightest wing to bring it in equilibrium with its mate, we can get a perfect balance again, and that ought to give us air steadiness and more speed."

"Right you are, Buddy," declared John. "Good head! That's my idea exactly."

"But won't that make us even heavier than we are now?" inquired Bob.

"Sure," responded John, "but balance is the main thing in an airplane, you know. When we get that, the old girl will act a whole lot better than she did coming here."

"Still, our rivals will have some advantage over us," argued Tom.

"That's true—in the way of a lighter machine. But we've shown we could outspeed them when the Sky-Bird was all right, and now we ought to be about an even match for them," said John.

"That means a nip-and-tuck race of it, then, the rest of the way," commented Paul.

At this point a bright idea struck Bob. "Say, fellows," he cried, "why can't we send a wire message from here to Mr. Giddings at Panama, and ask him to have a fast vessel drop a tank of helium off at Nukahiva, Marquesas Islands, for us?"

His comrades slapped Bob so hard upon the back when he made this suggestion that he had to stagger.

"Fine idea, Bob!" declared John. "A fast boat ought to reach Nukahiva before we do, and that will give us a full load of helium again for the last four or five thousand miles of the race. If it's a close contest up to that point, the new supply may save the day for us!"

They now set to work equalizing the gas supply in the wings of the Sky-Bird and reducing that in the fuselage to the proper pressure for perfect equilibrium, which they were able to get by the use of the pressure-gauge and a little figuring. Then they went over all parts of the machine, put in gasoline and oil, and attended to watering the radiators, following which Paul and Bob departed for town.

As in Georgetown, they created a vast interest, and were considerably annoyed by the crowds of natives which followed at their heels, many of whom carried baskets of fruit on their heads and constantly importuned them to buy some of their wares. Even in the windows of the houses they passed women holding naked babies, who stared out at them, and in the doorways stood girls, some of them beautifully gowned in silks, their dark hair falling like a shower about their comely nut-brown faces, while their eyes opened wide in wonder or dropped in abashment when they saw one of the handsome young Americans look their way.

Para is directly on the equatorial line. It is also the metropolis of the mighty Amazon, the king of all the world's rivers, whose width here at its mouth is close to two hundred miles, and which carries into the Atlantic so much mud from the interior of South America that it is said the waters of that ocean are stained yellow for five hundred miles outward. This mighty stream is formed by countless mountain creeks and rivers draining practically the whole northern half of the continent, and these streams are formed in their turn by the heavy rains which fall frequently from swiftly-gathered clouds. In fact, it rains nearly every afternoon in Para, and the air is always moist, so much so, that articles made of steel and iron quickly rust, and furniture must be pegged together rather than glued to keep it from coming apart.

Paul and Bob found Para quite a good-sized city, but on very low ground. Along the docks of the mighty river were many kinds of boats and ships, from stately ocean-liners to the tub-like barges used to float down from Bolivia great cargoes of raw rubber. There were numerous schooners unloading vegetables and fruit, and countless dugouts paddled by natives. Cargadores, in their bare feet, were carrying goods in and out of the various large craft, supporting the heaviest of bundles on their bare heads. Their faces were all shades of white, brown, and black. Among them were negroes from Jamaica, and Spaniards, Portuguese, and mulattoes from all parts of Brazil.

The business buildings were three and four stories high, and built close to the sidewalks along narrow streets. Their walls, the boys noticed as they crowded their way along, were of all colors, some being faced with blue, yellow, and green porcelain tiles.

By asking questions they found the telegraph office, and there sent the message to Mr. Giddings at Panama, requesting that the helium-gas be sent to Nukahiva by fastest boat. They also wired a report of their progress. They had by this time another roll of exposed kodak films, and this was mailed to the Daily Independent.

No sooner had they reappeared from the post-office than they were once more besieged with peddlers asking them to make a purchase of their wares. Paul and Bob stopped when they saw some particularly luscious-looking oranges and bananas, and were surprised upon asking the price to find that they could have a dozen of each kind for the value of five cents; and oh! how sweet and juicy they were when they sank a tooth into them.

They bought some baked goods in a little shop, and as they emerged an old man with a parrot on one shoulder and a small monkey on the other blocked their pathway, and begged them to look at "nice parryote, nice monk."

They shook their heads, when they saw other vendors crowding forward, and were about to push by when the monkey sprang nimbly upon Paul's own shoulder, snatched off his cap, shook it in front of his eyes, and put it back in place again.

Paul and Bob both laughed, and harder yet as the bright little animal shot a paw into Paul's pocket and adroitly drew out a Brazilian gold coin called a milreis, worth about fifty-four cents in American money.

"You give five milreis, me give monk," said the old mulatto.

Paul shook his head.

"You give four milreis, me give monk."

"No; that's more than I have of these coins."

"You give three milreis, me give—"

"Only have two of them left," said Paul.

"You give two milreis, take monk."

"It's a bargain," laughed Paul.

And he fished another of the coins out of his pocket, accepted the end of the rope tied to the monkey, and went off with Bob, his newly-acquired pet still contentedly occupying his shoulder.

"We'll surprise John and Tom when we get back to the field," chuckled Paul. "They won't be looking for this addition to the crew of the Sky-Bird."

"I'd say not," declared Bob, also chuckling.

And indeed Paul's little hairy friend did create a lot of interest when they arrived beside the airplane, John and Tom both playing with him, for several minutes, and going into hilarious laughter at the funny antics of the weazened-faced creature, which looked so much like the wrinkled old mulatto from whom he had been purchased, that Paul said he should henceforth be called "Grandpa."

They put the monkey in the cabin, and climbed in themselves, since all was in readiness for the departure. Night had fallen, but the sky was clear and moonlit. So there was no trouble, by helping matters with their searchlight, in hopping off and turning their head across the big Atlantic toward the shores of Africa.

As the trade-winds were blowing quite stiffly in their faces, John, who was at the throttle, determined to mount high enough to overcome their most resistant effects. When at an altitude of about five thousand feet, he brought the Sky-Bird out horizontally, with her nose set by compass toward Freetown. Before they could reach this African seaport it would be necessary for them to travel considerably more than two thousand miles and meet whatever storms might develop. But all had such confidence in the capabilities of the Sky-Bird that none had any worries, fierce as some of the Atlantic storms were known to be.

As they could no longer see the sea beneath them, owing to the darkness and fog which lay between, John had to rely entirely upon intuition and his compass to strike Freetown. Aerial navigation over immense bodies of water is similar to navigation on the seas themselves, except that the indispensable sextant of the mariner is of little use in the air, owing to the high speed of travel and the fact that allowances have to be made for the drift of the machine when side-winds are blowing—an extremely difficult factor to determine accurately.

In side-winds the machine makes leeway in addition to its forward movement, and it is the ratio of one to the other which the successful pilot must work out correctly, especially when flying above clouds or when land features are unobserved. In this particular instance our boys were supplied with charts indicating the trend of all normal winds in each locality and their approximate force at various altitudes. Thus, by consulting his speedometer, John was able to figure out with a fair degree of certainty what allowances he should make from dead reckoning in order to strike their destination—or rather, we should say that Tom, as John's aid, did most of this figuring, for a pilot generally has his hands full in guiding his steed.

The Sky-Bird was acting much better now, since her equalizing of weight back at Para. She lacked some of the speed of her old-time self, but rode smoothly and evenly in the hardest gusts. It was once more a pleasure to sit in her cabin, even if the rival airplane was ahead of them.

"We'll give them the race of their lives yet," observed Tom, as he studied the map and the speedometer alternately.

"We surely will," said his companion.

And both of them clicked their teeth in a way which boded no good for the rival craft ahead.

Shortly before midnight they crossed the equator for the second time since they had left Panama. But, rolled in their comfortable hammocks and sound asleep, with Grandpa, the monkey, blinking drowsily in a corner nearby, neither Bob nor Paul was conscious of the fact.



CHAPTER XVIII

AN IRRITATING DELAY

Paul was awakened the next morning by feeling a gentle tug at his nose. Unused to such a summons as this, he opened his eyes with a start.

There on his breast squatted Grandpa, his little head cocked comically to one side, his beady little eyes glistening with mischief, and his slim fingers just reaching out for another tweak. The monkey gave a lightning-like spring to the back of a nearby seat when he saw Paul looking at him, and here he set up a shrill chattering, which also awoke Bob and caused Tom and John to whirl around.

"You fellows have got a good alarm-clock now, the way it looks," called Tom, laughing, and taking in the situation. "Grandpa will save John and me the trouble of stirring you sleepy heads up after this, I expect."

Paul and Bob sprang out of their hammocks, and the former seized the monkey and laughingly shoved his nose up against one of the window panes. Far down below were the rolling billows of the great Atlantic, the early sun striking them into many beautiful tones of green and blue, and cutting a silver pathway across the curling crests. A school of dolphins was leaping out of the water off to the left. From the opposite window the youth could see a small emerald island in the distance, but everywhere else was water, vast reaches of it.

Grandpa evidently had no eye for nature, as viewed from this novel position, for he quickly twisted out of Paul's arms and jumped down to the floor of the cabin, where he pranced about excitedly.

"It's just a little bit too high to suit your exalted monkeyship, isn't it?" chuckled Paul. "Well, you'll get used to it, Grandpa, before you get around the world with us! I'll promise you, sir, that you will be the farthest-jumping and highest-jumping monkey that ever lived. You ought to be proud!"

After getting something to eat, Paul relieved Tom at the throttle, and Bob tried to get Freetown by radio. Failing, he did get Para, and advised them of their safety and approximate position over the Atlantic.

Now that the weather had cleared up so that they could run in view of the ocean, John and Tom themselves turned in for a much-needed sleep, leaving their younger companions to direct the course of the Sky-Bird on the last stage of the lap. The trade-winds were blowing freely, but with a lack of gustiness which made progress against them quite rapid and smooth.

It was two hours later that those in the Sky-Bird saw the coastline of Africa jutting out into the sea in a great bulge, and a little afterward they recognized landmarks agreeing with their chart. As they were slightly south of their course, Bob made the proper deviation, and in twenty minutes they were over a muddy field, marked with the looked-for white T, at Freetown, Sierra Leone.

As they were spiraling downward they saw a crowd of natives gathered in one portion of the field, and caught a glimpse of an airplane's wings in their midst. Many of this throng now rushed over to where the newcomers had landed, among them a tall Englishman, who introduced himself as the port minister and person who was to supply them with a replacement of fuel. Several other Englishmen, all officers in the garrison of the town, came up and were introduced.

"We 'av' been looking for you fellows, but not quite so soon," stated the port minister. "Hif I had known—"

"How is that?" asked John. "We are just about on schedule."

"So you are; but those other flyers over there, who 'av' been 'ere the past two 'ours declared you 'ad been delayed in South Hamerica hand would not be hin before to-morrow morning, so as we 'av' a coasting vessel with more petrol due 'ere then, I let them 'av' hall the petrol they wanted, hand I fear—"

"They had no reason for telling you we were delayed to such an extent as that, without it was to further their own interests," interrupted John, significantly. "But I don't see their game."

"I don't know, I'm sure," was the response; "but has I was saying, they asked for an hextra filling of their tanks, hand so—well, gentlemen, I am sorry to say it, but there hisn't ten gallons left."

Our friends heard this with mixed feelings. They were rightfully incensed at their rivals for such a dastardly trick, vexed with the port minister, and dismayed to think that they would have to wait until the following day before they could resume their journey, for at Para they had not filled their tanks to capacity.

At this point cries arose in the other part of the field. They heard the familiar whir of an airplane propeller, and as they looked to where the Clarion had stood, they saw the natives scatter and the gray machine of the other crew shoot up into the air. Rapidly it gained altitude, and was soon a mere dot on the western sky.

Ignoring the yells of the port minister and his military countrymen, the Clarion crew had gone straight on, and there seemed nothing for our boys to do now except await the arrival of more gasoline as patiently as they could.

John and Tom set to work cleaning up the Sky-Bird, for the field here was low and very muddy from recent rains, and as they had dashed through the slime in landing much of it had splattered over their propeller and under-carriage.

Paul and Bob went into town, followed by a throng of young negroes who fought for the privilege of getting closest to them. They found the stores small and mostly unpainted, and the houses principally shambling and squatty, most of them having thatched roofs. The streets were narrow, crooked, and dirty, but there were areas about some of the more pretentious dwelling-places which were really entrancing in the wealth of their tropical plants and stately palms. On the whole, the stone garrison, setting a little remote from the town proper, was the largest and best-constructed building, although this looked old and somber. Freetown, the capital of the little British colony of Sierra Leone, is all on low ground, and the air is moist and extremely humid, even unhealthful for those not accustomed to it.

Just before dark a terrific thunder-shower sprang up with all of the suddenness of such equatorial storms, and Bob and Paul made for the field as fast as their legs could carry them. They sprang inside of the Sky-Bird's cabin, wet to the skin, where John and Tom were already ensconsed, and Grandpa the monkey gave them a noisy and hearty welcome. A little later, with the rain pattering heavily down upon the roof, all hands turned in for the first ground sleep they had had since starting out upon their trip.

Shortly after daylight the next morning they were astir, to find the rain had ceased but that the field was a mass of ooze. Through this Tom made his way to the cobblestone street and down to the piers. But the coasting steamer had not yet arrived; in fact, she did not come in until after eight o'clock, and it was two hours later before the flyers succeeded in getting their tanks filled with the gasoline she had brought. Then it was found necessary to secure the aid of a half-dozen negroes, and to lay down many strips of heavy bark for traction, before the Sky-Bird could be run out of her mired position.

Paul was at the throttle as they took off. When he had attained a fair altitude, he gradually increased the speed until they were running full out. Never since the beginning of the trip had they felt such urgent need of putting the airplane through at a fast clip, but that time had now come, for they were fourteen hours behind schedule time and sixteen hours behind their rivals.

The Sky-Bird fairly cut the air like a knife, and the roar of propeller, wind, and engine was so great that our friends found conversation out of the question except by shouting in one another's ears. Poor Grandpa cowered in the farthest corner of the cabin, peeping out from behind one of the hammocks, as meek as a kitten, his tail crooking uneasily. But finding that the strange noises did him no harm, he presently came out and took up a position where he could look through the glass-floor window at the fleeting country below.

It seemed only a few minutes before, rising higher, they shot over the ragged chain of the Kong Mountains in western Senegambia, passing within sight of Mount Loma's bare peak. Then, dropping again until they were not more than a thousand feet high, they flew along over the tablelands to the eastward, recognized the Joliba River as it lay a yellow, twisting band below them, and a little later crossed the southern end of the district of Bambarra.

Great forests and jungles and canebrakes swept past them. In those tangles of gnarled trees, matted vines, interlacing rank grasses, and clusters of towering plants, so dank with the odor of wet and decay that the air even up where the flyers were seemed charged with it, lurked many a monster reptile and ferocious beast. Often the four boys saw the majestic form of a lion or the lumbering shape of an elephant as these animals were quenching their thirst at some open spot along a stream. And once they caught a brief glimpse of a terrific combat between what seemed to be two enormous rhinos, which had met in a little glen in the midst of a cluster of mahogany trees. How they would have liked to see the finish of this battle royal! Indeed, they would have enjoyed nothing better than to land in some favored spot and do a little big-game hunting with their rifles!

If they had been ahead of their adversaries instead of behind, they might have indulged in such sport, they thought. But now it would be unwise to waste a moment. They must make every endeavor to reach their next airport, Kuka, by nightfall. This small town was on the western bank of the salty Lake Chad, in the very heart of Africa, and on the southern border of the great Sahara Desert. It possessed no railroads or telegraph service, being linked with the outside world only by caravan route, and its inhabitants were practically all half-civilized negroes of the Fulbee tribe, who retained all of their forefathers' superstitions and wore no garb over their frescoed black bodies except a short gikki or skirt.

Mr. Giddings and Mr. Wrenn had had great difficulty in getting an English-speaking man to set up a field at this point for their flyers, and it was only after considerable telegraphing that a Scotch trader named MacInnis, situated at Lagos, the nearest coast-port of any size, had agreed to get a supply of gasoline and oil to Kuka and meet the airplanes when they arrived.

It was five o'clock when the boys passed over the low banks of the Niger River. By seven they were in the heart of the wild, level territory of Sokoto, skimming over vast expanses of plume-like grasses and extensive marshes and swamps. Strange birds of enormous size flew up out of the morasses, startled at the sight and sound of the airplane. Some tried to follow it, evidently to give it battle, but the swiftest of them were hopelessly outdistanced before they were well started.

When the sun disappeared behind the forest back of them, the flyers were still making speed for their destination, with Bob at the throttle. Pretty soon the lengthening shadows and obscuring of detail below convinced the crew that night was just about upon them, and that if they did not reach Kuka within the next thirty minutes they were very likely to be in such darkness that they would overrun it and never know the difference.

Some of them began to wonder if they had not missed their course, when a cry came from Bob, and they all ran forward and looked out of the front windows at the object he was pointing out.



CHAPTER XIX

SAVED BY THE SEARCHLIGHT

What our flyers saw was a very large body of water, with a strong tone of blue to it. As far to the north as they could see, it stretched, also to the east and south. And the shoreline on the western side nearest them was covered with what seemed a never-ending border of great forest trees, many of which had all the characteristics of mangroves.

This great expanse of water they knew could not be the Red Sea, nor could it be the Indian Ocean; for they had not traveled far enough westward to reach these bodies. Unquestionably, therefore, it was that which they were looking for—Lake Chad.

As they swept nearer, under reduced speed, they observed somewhat to their left a good-sized collection of dwellings in an opening among the mangroves, evidently a town. Swerving in that direction they were soon circling above the place at an altitude of about five hundred feet, hoping that it might prove to be Kuka, their next stop.

By this time it had grown so dark that they could just make out the buildings and surroundings. The former seemed to be nothing more than rude huts with rounded thatched roofs covered by saplings. The flyers saw many dark figures, with little or no garb, running about and excitedly gesticulating upward to their position. As they circled lower, these figures, evidently natives, suddenly vanished within their abodes.

"They seem scared to death of us," remarked Paul, laughing.

"Apparently they think the Sky-Bird is some gigantic member of the feathered kingdom about to swoop down and devour them for their sins," added Paul, who was equally amused. "Pete Deveaux and his crowd ought to have landed here some time this morning, though, and you would think the sight of their machine taking on gas would have gotten the blacks used to an airplane."

Be that as it may, every one of the dusky figures below had vanished as though the earth had swallowed them up. A strange if not foreboding stillness hung over the town. You would have thought it contained not a single being, at least not one who was awake.

All at once John, who had been intently looking around the outskirts of the town, observed an open spot marked with the welcome sign of a white T. He joyfully called the attention of his comrades to this, and as they looked they saw the form of a man emerge from the shadows bordering the field and wave his arms upward at them. From the fact that this person was attired in European costume, they judged he must be Mr. MacInnis, the Scotch trader who had been appointed to look after their fuel interests at this point.

It was a novel experience to be able to make a landing unhampered by throngs of curious inhabitants, as they now did. The field was quite level, though sandy, as might be expected so close to the big desert, and they had to dodge several clumps of small growths, presumably juju trees, before they could taxi to a stop.

The man in linen now rushed up to them, and introduced himself as Mr. MacInnis. He hurriedly shook hands with the boys, displaying, they thought, great nervousness while greeting them, and several times he turned his head and looked in the direction of the nearest shacks of the town.

Then he asked what they thought a very queer question. "Have you fellows enough petrol and oil to last you through to your next stop?"

"That's Aden," answered John; "we didn't fill to capacity at Freetown, and I'm afraid not. Why, what is the matter? Haven't you any fuel here for us?"

"I have plenty of both petrol and oil here for you," said the Scotchman, with another look toward the huts, "but I am afraid for your lives if you stay to put it aboard."

"How is that?" cried Tom, his usually smiling countenance growing sober for once, while his companions felt a vague uneasiness.

"It's this way," stated MacInnis. "About eight o'clock this morning the airplane that is racing you came in. It was the first machine of the kind the natives had ever seen, and they were greatly frightened, thinking Jobbajobba, one of their heathen devils, had appeared in the guise of a great bird, and was about to attack the children of the wicked of them. When the aviators climbed out, and they saw that they were human, they lost some of this fear, but remained at a respectable distance all the time the 'great bird was being given a drink.' Then two of the men—one was the slender and dark-complexioned fellow—went into the town sight-seeing. In the course of their rounds they stole the ivory head, set with gold eyes and teeth, off of the body of one of the tribe's most cherished idols, the god of Ogu Nogo. This was not discovered until the aviators had departed in their airplane, but then the Fulbees were wild with rage at the 'bird-men,' as they called them, and swore to kill them if they should ever return. To-night they observed you landing, as I did. They are now in hiding, probably with weapons, and are undoubtedly watching your every move, ready to strike when the time comes, thinking you to be those other fellows or men of as evil instincts. As I said, I fear for your lives if you tarry here." And as he finished he once more glanced nervously around at the huts and shacks in the gloom of the fast-gathering night.

But in that direction all was so quiet that John hopefully remarked: "I think they are too frightened to appear. We need more gasoline, as we have been running very hard and our tanks are low. We will hurry matters up, and three of us will fill while the other stands guard with a rifle."

Mr. MacInnis then helped John, Tom, and Paul carry the big square tins of British petrol, which is the same as American gasoline, from the field shelter to the Sky-Bird, where, in the course of a half-hour, two hundred gallons were poured into the tanks, also ten gallons of oil. In the meantime, Bob Giddings, rifle in hand, stood close by, alert for danger. He watched the nearest buildings of the natives sharply, but though he saw numbers of black figures skulking in the shadows among them, no sign of hostility was observed.

The Scotchman had signed his name to the document certifying to the stop of the flyers at Kuka,—the paper on which they were to secure certifications at every scheduled airport,—and they were just in the act of starting over to the field tank to get some water for the airplane's radiators, when, without a moment's warning a hair-raising chorus of yells broke out on the brooding night air, and scores of savage-looking figures sprang from the shadows of the buildings into the open field. They emerged in a long straggling line, hooting and brandishing guns, spears and bows. They advanced toward the airplane in peculiar hops and side jumps, as if fearing an attack upon themselves. Not once did they cease their blood-curdling shouts. Rapidly they neared the objects of their anger and hatred.

For a full five seconds the boys stood as if rooted in their tracks, too horrified and astounded to think or act. The sharp voice of the Scotchman, however, brought them to their senses.

"You've fooled here too long; it's too late to get away now! They're mad as wet hornets. Jump inside your cabin quick, and defend yourselves as well as you can!"

"But you, sir?" cried Tom.

"They won't harm me, because I'm not a flyer."

The boys dashed into the cabin and shut the door, while the Scotchman hurried away from the airplane. It was certain that there was no time to get out and crank the propeller and rise before the mad Fulbees would be upon them. Cornered in the little cabin of the machine they would sell their lives as dearly as possible.

As they stood, guns in hand, watching through the windows, while the frenzied blacks drew cautiously nearer, spreading a cordon of hundreds all around the Sky-Bird, they could see in the moonlight that the Fulbees were grotesquely painted on arms and faces, while their bodies were entirely naked except for a dirty-looking cloth wrapped around their loins in the form of a short skirt. Every one of them was armed, and as they contracted their circle, guns, spears, and bows were frequently raised in threatening position; but for some reason no shots were fired. The inmates knew, however, that when nearer approach brought more assurance of hitting their target, the blacks could be counted upon to open up actual hostilities.

And now this thought brought a sudden and grave fear to their minds, one unnoticed before. The helium-gas tanks in the hollow wings and rear fuselage! Bullets, spears and arrows striking them would penetrate, and the tanks thus punctured would lose their last ounce of the precious gas!

It was a terrible predicament in which the flyers now found themselves, to be sure. By fighting they might preserve their lives, but that very act would make their world-trip impossible. What could they do?

As the drowning man catches with hope at the floating straw. Bob now conceived an almost impossible but startling idea for delivering them from their dilemma.

"The searchlight!" he cried. "These blacks never have seen one. Perhaps we can frighten them away with ours!"

"Great idea, Bob," approved John, while the others also applauded the scheme. "Paul, you work the lever that revolves the lamp up on top of the cabin there, and, Bob, you throw in the juice."

No sooner had he spoken, than both boys were at their stations. The next moment a great white path, widening as it went, streamed out into the darkness, lighting up everything in its reach with the brilliancy of day, but with a bluish-whiteness which must have been decidedly terrifying to the superstitious negroes. Like an accusing finger the strange light swept around the field, raising and lowering, resting a few moments on this group and then that group of petrified, hideously-painted faces, from which eyeballs stood out like knobs of white marble.

In an instant their incensed cries had ceased, and they had shrunk, cringing, back in their tracks. But only for a few moments, and then their gurgled yells arose once more, this time in ear-splitting fright, as all turned and fled toward the nearest forest. And that great, terrifying white eye of the big "bird" followed them, shining for many a rod on black backs which were so wet with perspiration that they looked like oiled eelskin. Weapons were thrown in every direction as the Fulbees fled. Whenever one would look around and see that glaring eye looking straight at him, he would shut his own eyes and shriek, and then go dashing frantically on. Some even threw themselves prostrate when the flood overtook them, and uttered invocations to their gods for protection from the monster, until they could pluck up courage enough to continue their flight.

Had the situation not recently been such a serious one for them—indeed they were not out of it yet!—the flyers would have roared with laughter. As it was, they kept the light traveling over the Fulbees until the very last one had fled. Then at a quick word from John, they all jumped out of the cabin and swung the airplane around for a quick take-off.

Tom spun the propeller; there was a roar as the engine caught, and a few seconds later they were mounting up into the starlit heavens of the equatorial night. At a height of two thousand feet, they presently looked down, safe from the menace of the black populace whose reception had been so rabid.

But Kuka was blotted out in the mantle of gloom which lay between. Only the sparkling ripples of Lake Chad, struck by the beautiful tropical moon, could be seen.



CHAPTER XX

A JUNGLE ADVENTURE

So fast had the flyers in the Sky-Bird come across the western part of the African continent, at its greatest bulge, that, coupled with their very brief stop in Kuka, they found they were starting out for Aden, Arabia, with a gain of approximately seven hours upon their lost time of fourteen hours in Freetown. They were now, therefore, just seven hours behind schedule—perhaps a little more than that behind their rivals,—but in the very fact that they were cutting down both items, they felt vastly encouraged, and as the airplane headed eastward across Lake Chad there was only one thing to worry them to any extent.

This was the need of water; that is, all felt that the need would become an urgent one before daylight should come and a chance be given to land and replenish the limited amount which they knew must now be in the radiator, owing to the impossibility of getting water as expected at Kuka.

John was at the throttle, with Tom assisting. Paul and Bob were playing with Grandpa, still too excited over their recent adventure to turn in and get some sleep, as John said they ought to do. After a little while they turned their attention to studying the chart and schedule. Frequently they compared notes, and now and then jotted down some figures on a pad.

"Do you know, John," observed Paul, looking up very cheerfully, "that if we continue to travel at the rate we did between Freetown and Kuka we shall make up all lost time by morning, and arrive at Aden about on schedule?"

"You don't say!" exclaimed John.

"You kids have made a mistake," informed Tom disbelievingly.

"No mistake about it," protested Bob; "it's an out-and-out fact."

"Well, that's cheerful news, then," said Tom. "I know we hit her up to well over two hundred an hour coming across to Kuka."

"And we'll do as much on this stretch, if our water only holds out," declared John determinedly.

"That's the rub," put in Paul. "I'm sure it won't hold out, and if we work right up to the last drop, I'm afraid we may have to make a forced landing, and that may be in the tops of the trees, for all we know."

"Or on an elephant's back," added Bob jocosely.

"Well, I don't know but that we had better try to make a landing as soon as we come to a favorable spot where there is water," remarked John. "It is a fine moonlight night, and if we strike the right place I think we can make the ground. In a pinch, you know, we can use our searchlight."

"Speaking about searchlights—oh my! oh, my! will I ever forget how frightened those blacks were?" And Paul laughed until the tears came into his eyes, now that the tension was off. Tom joined him until both of them staggered and bumped together, causing Grandpa to set up an excited chatter of inquiry.

John kept the Sky-Bird low, down to less than a thousand feet, after crossing the lower neck of Lake Chad, for the chart showed no marked elevations which would make flying at that height hazardous, and it was certain that the closer they were to the earth the better they could detect a favorable place to land.

It was really a beautiful night, and they opened the cabin windows after a while to enjoy the soft balmy air to the full. The wind then rushed through the cabin like a hurricane, roaring so that conversation was out of order; but they enjoyed its cool touch on their hot faces.

One by one the stars had made their appearance, until now the heavens fairly glittered with them. How pretty they looked up there in the great blue vault in which they seemed the choicest settings of an angel's handiwork! Somehow they seemed to sparkle more brightly, and the sky seemed a richer cobalt, than the sky the boys knew at home. But they missed many of the stars which they loved in America. The swift airplane in which they rode had taken them, day by day, and night by night, away from them. Many stars which were unknown to them had taken their places, and they realized more strongly than all the pictures in the world could have shown them how very unlike were the skies of the northern and southern hemispheres.

One of the most striking sights to them now was the constellation of the Cross, commonly known by mariners as the Southern Cross, and which is composed of four brilliant stars. Sirius, Canopus, and Centaur also filled a part of the heavens with their splendid light. Mars, Venus, Saturn, and Jupiter were old friends in new surroundings, and were all dazzlingly dressed. The part of the Milky Way between the stars Sirius and Centaur was so rich in stars and crowded nebula: that it seemed a perfect blaze of illumination. And there were the Magellanic clouds, white-looking patches made up of countless stars individually unseen to the naked eye, and nebulae—mists of radiating light—all shining brilliantly and revolving around the starless South Pole. To the northward was the constellation of the Great Bear, which reaches its meridian altitude about the same time as the constellations of the Cross and the Centaur. As the boys looked, stars appeared and disappeared. They were like a succession of guests, coming and going.

After a while, the flyers saw a small river glinting in the moonlight and running along for the most part in the direction they were taking.

"The first time we come to a level, open spot along this stream we will try for a landing," stated John. "It will afford us plenty of water for the radiator if we can get down to it."

"And plenty of water for a good plunge, too," said Paul. "I haven't had a bath since we left Miami, and I'm fairly suffering for a wetting, if it's no more than a quick dip."

"Same here," seconded Bob and Tom.

They were running much lower now, on the lookout for a place to stop, and so once more they could hear each other's voices.

Presently, just after clearing a dense forest, they saw the opening they sought. It was a grassy level, free of bushes and other obstructions, and well bathed in the soft light of the stars and moon.

After some careful maneuvering, John brought the Sky-Bird down, and though the tall grasses wound in the landing-gear in coming to a stop, they broke off without doing any damage.

"We'd better take the guns along," Tom remarked.

"That's so," agreed John; "we might run into some ferocious animal in this wild jungle."

So each armed himself with a rifle and a pail, and John led the way, as he was the only one of the party supplied with a lantern, the others having small flashlights which were none too good for breaking a path in such wilds. They knew the river lay a short distance to the north, but in order to reach its banks from the place where they had landed, they had to cut through a strip of woods bordering it.

It was tedious work getting through. The trees were close together and had to be dodged, and great leaves of plants as large as their bodies seemed to be everywhere, while vines of the toughest fiber frequently shut off their passage and had to be pushed aside or cut with knives. More than once one of the party tripped over unseen obstacles and measured his length in the soft, rank ground-vegetation.

But it was only a little way to the river, and soon they stood upon its grassy bank. It was a pretty stream, not very deep, and seemed quite clear when John held the lantern down to it. They filled their pails, and then, risking all dangers of snakes and crocodiles, disrobed for a plunge.

First one and then the other jumped in. How refreshing the cool waters felt to their hot, sticky bodies! They would have liked to do some diving, but were afraid of sunken logs, and contented themselves by splashing about, swimming a little, and making the woods ring with their laughter and shouts.

Then they came out and put on their clothes. Picking up guns once more, and the pails now filled with water, they started back, John still leading. But they had not gone far when somewhere in advance of them they thought they heard the sound of a breaking limb. So sudden was the sound on the still night air, that all stopped very quickly, their hearts beating fast.

They listened, but the sound was not repeated. They started on again, thinking the limb must have been a dead one and had fallen from some tree of its own weight. But scarcely had they taken a dozen steps when they heard another sharp cracking of wood, this time very close in front of them.

Their intuition told them now that they were near to some night prowler of the animal kingdom, and perhaps one of considerable size, judging from the crash. Hardly realizing what they were doing, they set down their pails, and cocked their rifles, facing, with alertness and uneasiness, the direction whence the sounds had come.

Now they heard some rustling, as of leaves, directly ahead. It came slowly and cautiously closer. Just as it seemed about to burst out upon their view it stopped. There was no more noise. All was silent; not even the note of a night-bird or the gentle chirp of an insect could be heard. For the first time the soughing of the tree-tops in the soft breeze above failed to meet their ears. What a deathly stillness it was!

Suddenly, right out of the black shadows ahead, there sounded on the hushed air of the night three terrific yells, one following immediately after the other. These piercing cries had hardly died out when another, of deeper note, and a veritable roar, filled the forest with its din. The leaves about the boys seemed fairly to quiver under the violent guttural reverberations.

John Ross may well have been excused for shaking as he held up his lantern in his right hand and threw its rays upon the tall undergrowth ahead, while his fingers tightened like bands of steel around the stock of his repeating-rifle.

As he and his companions looked, they saw peeping through the foliage a black, fierce face, one of the ugliest and most ferocious that man could have imagined. It was staring straight at them. The brute's eyes were sunken under a heavy overhanging ridge of dusky skin. His eyes were small and black, and the iris of each shone like a diamond set in carbon. His forehead was low, receding, and covered with short bristling hair. His nose was broad and flat. His great jaw protruded frightfully, with the upper thin lip pressed tight, the lower curving away and displaying a row of long yellow tusks which could have bitten the hand off a man with one crunch.

The animal now opened his cavernous mouth, and uttered yell after yell again, these sounding something like the bark of a dog but being a hundred times louder. They were followed by terrific roars, somewhat similar to those of a lion, though of much greater volume. The cries rang through the forest from hill to hill, and died away in the distance. The woods was filled with the echo of his horrible voice.

Then, very slowly his whole body came in sight. He advanced clumsily and ponderously towards the little party of flyers, walking erect, his plain intent being to kill them. His short legs were hardly strong enough, as sturdy as they were, to support his huge body. All at once he stopped to look at them. How vindictive his eyes were! They seemed to say to the boys: "I will soon finish you!"

Then he beat his chest with his great fists and the noise was like a bandman striking a bass-drum. It was his challenge to combat. How long and muscular were the shaggy arms that directed these blows! How broad was his chest from which the sounds came! The hair stood almost erect on his body, and the hair on his head moved up and down.

This hesitation of the monster proved the salvation of the flyers. It gave them a chance to pull their shattered nerves together and elevate their rifles. As he must keep the light on the creature, which now all recognized as a large gorilla, so that his companions and himself could see to shoot, John had only one arm with which to handle his gun. But he brought the weapon up quickly, and pressed the trigger just as three other shots rang out from the guns of his companions, who had stepped on either side of their leader.

A hoarse yell of rage and pain answered the reports. They saw the gorilla stagger, then drop to all fours, and lunge toward them.

There was no chance to retreat. As quick as a flash John dropped his own rifle, so that he could hold the lantern in both hands and direct its rays better upon the beast, and cried to his comrades to fire again.

No sooner had the words left his lips than the others brought their repeaters once more to their shoulders. On account of the poor light on the barrels of their weapons they were again compelled to take snap shots, shooting with both eyes open; but this time with greater success.

The big gorilla fell, uttering a fearful groan. He rolled over upon his back, his massive limbs twitched convulsively, and then he was still. Going up to him cautiously with the lantern, they found that he was dead.

Extended, his great arms measured nearly nine feet; his chest had a girth of seven feet, and he lacked only one inch of being six feet in height. These facts Tom ascertained with the use of a small tapeline which he carried in his pocket.

"Let's skin him," said Tom; "I know how, and it won't take but a few minutes."

"Sure," agreed Paul; "his skin will be a valuable trophy to take back home with us. Jiminy, I wish it had been daylight and we had brought our camera with us! We could have secured some pictures worth while for the Daily Independent."

With his keen-edged sheath knife, Tom soon had the skin removed from the giant brute. The performance of this operation was far from an agreeable one, however, both for surgeon and observers. So human-like was the gorilla that it seemed like skinning a man!

As they made their way onward again, carrying their trophy in a roll tied with withes made from vines. Bob ventured to say: "I wonder how the gorilla came to be awake and to attack us this way?"

"I think he must have had a mate, perhaps a family, nearby," replied John. "I have read that the mother and her babies always go up into a tree to sleep, while the father squats down at its base to guard them, and here he sleeps with one eye open and the other closed, as the saying is. At least he arouses at the slightest sound of an enemy. We probably awakened him by our shouts while in bathing, and being so close to him when we came back along a slightly different path, he thought we were going to attack the family upstairs, and showed fight right away."

The little party regained their airplane without further incident; the radiator was drained, and the fresh water put in. Then, feeling that there was no further danger of the engines running hot, they took off.

As the Sky-Bird arose into the air, the flyers noticed that Grandpa the monkey was slightly excited. This they attributed to the presence of the gorilla's skin; but when they saw Grandpa continue to dash wildly about the cabin, from their shoulders to the rear window, out of which he would take a quick look only to fly back to them and chatter wildly and coweringly, Paul thought he would see what could be the trouble.

One glance was enough. He shut the open window with a bang, and turned to his companions with a pale face.

"Fellows," said he; "we've got a passenger!"

"A passenger?" cried they.

"Yes," said Paul, "a monstrous big snake!"



CHAPTER XXI

THE DOUBLE LOOP

For a moment or two John and Bob stared at Paul blankly, unable to comprehend the import of his announcement. Tom was at the throttle, and while he had heard the startling words, he was too occupied in guiding the Sky-Bird to do anything except take a quick glance backward.

"A snake?" repeated Bob.

"Not on the machine?" cried John.

"Yes," Paul said, with a seriousness which left no further doubt as to the truth of his statement. "He's a whopper—must be twelve or fourteen feet long and as thick as my leg. He's there on the fuselage just outside of the window, hanging on for dear life. If I hadn't shut that window just as I did, I believe he would have crawled in here in a minute."

John and Bob now hurried to the window and looked out. In the moonlight they could distinctly see a huge reptile, either a python or a boa-constrictor, coiled up in the angle formed by the juncture of the airplane body and the broad base of the left wing. The creature was so long that its tail passed up over the rounded fuselage and out upon the other wing. Bob flashed his electric pocket lamp upon it, and by the yellow and brown mottled spots upon its body and the double plates of whitish scale at its tale, and the wicked-looking triangular head, they were sure it must really be a python, one of the most dreaded of African snakes. These creatures think a monkey a very choice morsel of food, and undoubtedly it had been attracted to the airplane, while it stood in the grass, by the appearance of Grandpa in the open cabin window, but had been frustrated in its designs by the return of the flyers and the sudden rising of the machine.

Now, with the window shut, the boys seemed safe enough for the present. They could see that the big snake was extremely uneasy. As the wind whistled by him, his great tail twisted and untwisted, and he seemed to be trying to get a better hold on the smooth surface, while his beady eyes glared at them only a moment in the glow of the flashlight, and then he transferred his attention to the landscape below them. His forked fangs darted in and out during this time with the angriest lightning-like movement.

Paul relieved Tom at the throttle for a few minutes, so that the latter could have a look at the reptile.

When Tom came back again to his post, he said, with plain uneasiness: "I never saw such a big snake before, Paul. Between the rush of wind and the roar of the engine and propeller, he seems scared out of his wits."

"We've got to get him off of there somehow—and mighty soon, too," put in John, with decision. "Tom, if that monster should begin to slip a little most likely he will coil his tail around some of our control wires,—and then what?"

Their faces blanched at this prospect. They knew what that would mean. It would mean that the great creature would either operate the airplane's rudders when they should not be operated, or would prevent Tom from moving them when they must be moved. In either event, the result would be disaster to machine and crew.

"Good heavens, boys!" said Tom, so nervous his voice shook, "get rid of that snake as quick as you can!" He fancied he could see the rear control levers moving at that instant.

The other three flyers knew the importance of these instructions, but how were they to carry them out? The reptile was too large to be shoved off with a stick or pole, and would probably squirm through the window while they were attempting it. And they were afraid to use a gun, as, in the case of a miss or a little lurch of the airplane at the moment of firing, the bullet might puncture the hollow wing or rear fuselage and let helium escape.

It was Bob who solved the puzzle.

"Why not try a loop or two?" he asked.

Their hearts jumped with hope at this. So everything was made tight in the cabin, with the straps and fastenings which had been provided when the machine was made. Even Grandpa had to submit to being roped up in one of the swinging hammocks. When the boys had buckled themselves down to their seats, John gave Tom the word, and he began to rise slowly. At close to two thousand feet he brought the Sky-Bird quickly and smoothly upward until she stood almost on her tail end.

Then Tom threw the elevators and ailerons hard up, and held them there. They were going at a rate of close to a hundred miles an hour at the moment, and their velocity brought them around in a pretty loop. There was no way for them to tell if the serpent had been dislodged, so, to make as sure as he could of accomplishing his purpose, Tom kept his controls as set, and they made another or double loop.

This time he straightened out his controls as he came up to the horizontal, and they ran swiftly ahead again on a level keel.

His companions quickly unloosened their straps, and ran for the rear window. A feeling of the greatest thanksgiving filled their souls and joy lit up their faces. The python was gone! He had hurtled through the air during one or the other of the loops, and his long sinuous body was probably at that moment lying crushed upon the hard ground, or impaled upon the sharp stub of some forest tree, far below.

It had been a night of intense excitement. Now that they began to beat through the air in the old tuneful way, and there was nothing more to claim their attention until they should arrive at Aden sometime in the morning, Bob and Paul took to their hammocks for sleep, but first Bob got Khartum on the wireless and delivered their position and a brief description of their adventures. As may be imagined, however, the two youths did not shut their eyes immediately. There was much to think about and to talk about before even fatigue could get the better of them.

Tom put the Sky-Bird through on a straight course for Aden as fast as he dared run the night engine, which was very close to its limit, now that it had had a chance to cool off and was well supplied with water. It was important that they should make speed, for in the stop for water and the subsequent maneuvering to rid themselves of their unwelcome passenger, the python, they had lost upwards of an hour's time.

Flying high, and depending entirely upon the compass for striking Aden, they shot through the starlit tropical night like a meteor, showing no lights except the two small ones on the dashboard in the cabin, by means of which Tom could observe the instruments and the controlling levers below. Thus they crossed the famous Nile, sweeping below Khartum and across the plains of Kordofan, and when the first streaks of daylight appeared ahead of them they were just entering the plateaus of northern Abyssinia.

Paul and Bob now relieved Tom and John, and the latter young men took a nap. It was their custom to work in pairs, the observer preparing food for himself and the pilot during the course of flight. Sometimes the observer took the throttle long enough to give his friend a chance to eat, and sometimes the pilot retained his seat, allowing the automatic arrangement to do the guiding for him while he munched his food.

Just before seven o'clock Paul and Bob saw two large bodies of water ahead of them, one stretching to the right and the other to the left. The chart told them that the northern body was the Red Sea and the southern one the Gulf of Aden, which opens into the Indian Ocean. Between these bodies lay a narrow belt of water, flanked on the western or African side by rocky, wooded hills, and on the eastern side by low, sandy shores dotted with palms. This was the Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, and the country beyond was Persia.

Aden could not be more than fifteen minutes' run east now, and so Bob awakened his sleeping comrades while Paul guided the airplane across the strait. They flew a little higher, later, following the general contour of the terraced slopes of the mountains along the Arabian coast.

As the Sky-Bird came leisurely over the hills surrounding this British seaport of Aden, they could see that the town nestled in the crater of an extinct volcano, as they had read. All around the low, white buildings spread the rugged hillsides, and in declivities they passed over numbers of the great brick tanks or reservoirs which catch and store the scanty rainfall of the region and thus furnish Aden with its only water supply.

The flyers saw many gowned figures, some on camels, pause to look upward at them, as they began to circle the town in quest of their landing field. Bob was the first to discern it—a fairly level stretch in the southern end of the valley or basin, marked in the way agreed upon, and containing two small buildings, neither of which was large enough to admit the machine.

But they cared nothing for shelter for the Sky-Bird, as they did not purpose staying any longer than necessary for fuel replenishment and news dissemination by telegraph and letter. So they quickly settled down in the midst of a wondering ring of Arabs.

Mr. Griggs, the American consul here, now came forward with a couple of British military officers, and the flyers met with a hearty reception. It seemed good to run upon one of their own countrymen again, after seeing so many strange faces since leaving Panama. Mr. Griggs insisted upon their going to his home with him for breakfast, and to this they consented as soon as they found he had made full arrangements for having some British workmen at the garrison refill the Sky-Bird's tanks.

They found that their rivals had arrived just after daylight, and had departed for Colombo, Ceylon, less than twenty minutes before their own appearance. This was cheering news. They had gained a lot on them in crossing the African continent.



CHAPTER XXII

ABOVE THE CLOUDS

Mr. Griggs, the American consul at Aden, proved an affable, pleasant entertainer. His little wife was also very genial and painstaking for their comforts, declaring at their protests that she was doing no more for them than she had done for the other flyers when they came through, a short time before. The couple had two children, a boy and a girl, and both of these plied the boys with innumerable questions about their journey, expressing the greatest interest and excitement when they worked out of Paul the story of the adventure with the gorilla and python.

After the meal, which was very appetizing and refreshing, they spent a short time preparing their reports to the Daily Independent, and then accompanied their host to the post-office, where the letter and roll of films were mailed. At the telegraph office they received a pleasant surprise in the shape of a message from Mr. Giddings, which stated their reports were coming in to the newspaper all right, and that the greatest interest was being manifested in them by the world in general and by New York people in particular.

"Whatever you do, don't let the other crew beat you," were his concluding words. "I have ordered the helium shipped to Nukahiva by fast steamer."

"That's good news," said John, with satisfaction, referring to the helium, and the others accorded with him.

They dispatched a telegram to Mr. Giddings, and then started out to buy some fruit and other foods. As they went along the narrow, crooking street upon which they had been walking they met so many Arabs with small sprays of dark-green leaves which they put in their mouths and chewed, that their curiosity was aroused, and Bob asked Mr. Griggs what the leaves were.

"Those are the leaves of the khat bush," was the response. "You must have passed numerous plantations of such bushes up on the hillsides as you flew over into the basin here. The Yemen Arabs like to chew the leaves so well that they have all of the passion for them that a toper has for whiskey, and they will spend their last rupee for a small bundle."

"Does this chewing of the leaves intoxicate them?" asked John.

"Oh, no; the leaves are quite harmless. But they do produce a strangely exhilarating effect upon those who chew them. If you ask a Yemen Arab what he chews the leaves for, he will invariably look at you with astonishment and tell you that he forgets all his troubles, sees the most beautiful of fairies and the richest rose-gardens of Allah, and lives in a new world."

"Do they go to the fields after it themselves?" inquired Tom.

"Not at all," said Mr. Griggs; "the khat is brought into town every morning about eleven o'clock by long caravans of camels which proceed from the khat farms along the mountain slopes. Long before these camels appear in the valley, with a bundle of khat swung on each side of the beasts, messengers on fleeter camels have brought the tidings of approach. From the shelters of the shops, so silent except just now, cheerful cries break out; the streets are filled with Arabs who sing joyfully; tikka gharries rattle madly by, whips waving and turbans awry; there are flashes of color from rich men's gowns and the sounds of their clicking oryx-hide sandals as they rapidly strike the stony pavements; there is a continual blunt clatter from the tom-toms in the hands of long-gowned fellows. They are all going to the market where the khat will soon arrive, each one anxious to have first choice and get the best bargain. There they will bicker with the khat traders for an hour sometimes, then in will come the despised hadjis, the venders of firewood, who will buy up for a few pice the scraps which remain."

This was all very interesting to the flyers, but it was high time to hurry back and resume their flight; so, restraining their impulse to ask more questions or investigate the attractions of the town, they bought their supplies, and returned with the American minister to the landing-field.

Ten minutes later the Sky-Bird was mounting easily up into the sky, viewed by hundreds of shouting Arabs. It was good-bye to Persia now.

Looking at his watch, Paul, at the throttle, saw that it was nine-fifty. They were leaving Aden only fifty minutes behind schedule. That was not at all bad; but it was not pleasant to think that their rivals were still ahead of them. And two hours was a pretty stiff lead.

They were not long in passing over the hills to the south, and then headed eastward out over the elongated gulf. Looking back, John saw the sandhills by the sea glistening in the bright sunlight like mounds of gold-dust. Every leaf and stem in the scrub stood out in black and silver filigree; and euphorbias and adeniums, gouty and pompous above the lower growths, seemed like fantasies of gray on a Japanese screen covered with cerulean velvet. It was their last sight of Persia, and one not soon to be forgotten.

Our friends now settled down for a long hop, for they would have to fly all day and all night before reaching Colombo.

After a while they sighted Socotra, the little isle off the coast of Cape Guardafui, from whence comes most of the world's supply of frankincense; then leaving its rocky shores behind them they cut straight across the Persian Sea, braving whatever tropical storm might arise.

All that day they swept over the blue waters of this great body, frequently seeing ships below and sometimes small islands. Toward night they ran into such hard headwinds that Bob went up higher. He climbed steadily until the Sky-Bird had attained an altitude of nine thousand feet. Here, as expected, they found the winds much less forceful, but the sea was blotted out entirely by the clouds through which they had passed in the process of rising and which now lay between.

Indeed, these clouds resembled a billowy ocean of white foam in themselves, or a landscape covered with hills and valleys of snow. The rounded cloud contours could easily be likened to the domes of snow-covered mountains. It was really difficult to conceive that that amorphous expanse was not actually solid. Here and there flocculent towers and summits heaved up, piled like mighty snow dumps, toppling and crushing into one another, as the breezes stirred them.

Then there were tiny wisps of cloud, more delicate and frail than feathers or the down of a dandelion-blow. Chasms hundreds of feet deep, sheer columns, and banks, extended almost beyond eye-reach. Between the flyers and the sun stretched isolated towers of cumulus, cast up as if erupted by the chaos below. The sunlight, filtering through this or that gossamer bulk, was scattered into every conceivable shade and monotone. And around the margins of the heaving billows the sun's rays played unhampered, unrestricted, outlining all with edgings of the purest silver.

The scene was one of such extravagance that the brain was staggered with what the eye tried to register. Below the aviators, the shadow of their machine pursued them on white film like a grotesque gray bird of some supernatural region. The shadow followed tirelessly, gaining as the hour of noon approached, gaining still as afternoon began to gather, swell, and wane; and always it skipped from crest to crest down there just below, jumping gulfs like a bewitched phantom.

It was so cold at this height that the aviators had to put on their heaviest garments, and they were content to open the windows only a slight way for ventilation.

When darkness fell, they were still flying high, though at reduced speed, as John was afraid that a rate too much over schedule might cause them to overrun their destination before daylight could disclose its outlines to them. Every half-hour the pilot's helper checked up their position on the chart. Had this not been done from the very start of the trip, they never could have struck their ports with the accuracy they did, and disaster would have been the result, if not death to the crew.

As it was, they had taken every precaution they could. When they had crossed the Atlantic they had been careful to inflate the four spare inner tubes of their landing wheels, as these would make capital life-preservers in case the flyers were thrown into the sea; and one of the last things they did before leaving Aden was to see that the tubes were still inflated.

The long night passed with considerable anxiety on the part of Tom and John, but when dawn finally broke they felt like uttering a "hurrah," and called Paul and Bob up from their sleep to witness the cheering sight ahead of them.

At a distance of what must have been close to fifty miles, was a white patch in a haziness of green plain surrounded by hills and low mountains. The land itself was encircled by the sea, and when they saw a great peninsula spreading away to the northward, they knew that the island was Ceylon, and the other land the peninsula of Hindustan.

Somewhat off their course, they wheeled a little north. Soon details became apparent in the island. The white patch grew, developing into a considerable town—Colombo.

They swept up and around it, then settled, and climbed stiffly out of the Sky-Bird not twenty yards from another airplane, about which four men in flying-suits had been working. These fellows looked toward the new arrivals scowlingly.

But our flyers, overjoyed to think they had caught the Clarion's crew, only smiled back indulgently.



CHAPTER XXIII

BOMBED BY ROCKS

Our friends had landed in the lowlands just to the north of Colombo, whose scattered buildings contained upwards of a hundred thousand inhabitants, most of whom were native Singhalese, descendants of the colonists who came from the valley of the Ganges and settled the island five hundred years before the birth of Christ. To the southward arose the rocky headlands of the coast, and to the westward could be seen the somber peak of Pedrotallagalla, the highest mountain of the island. Numerous ships, some very crude and with queer sails, were in the harbor as the boys landed, and scores of natives in short skirts were loading and unloading these. Undoubtedly the huge square boxes which some of them carried aboard so easily upon their heads contained tea, for which Ceylon is famous.

The person in charge of the landing-field here was a Mr. Young, an American clergyman connected with the local Baptist mission. This tall gentleman came forward, accompanied by the British governor of the island, within a few moments after the flyers struck the ground. In fact, they were still stretching their cramped legs and arms when he greeted them and introduced the governor, Sir Henry Hurst.

"Young men, I am more than delighted to shake hands with you," said the governor. "It looks as if you and the other crew over yonder were upon an epoch-making tour, for you are not ten minutes behind your schedule, as we have it in the London papers and also in our own Colombian newspaper. My only regret is that you do not represent England instead of America." He laughed good-naturedly as he made the last remark.

"It was quite a task for the governor and myself to get up at this early hour to receive you, but the occasion is well worth the effort," observed Mr. Young, smiling. "Here we usually sleep very late, often as late as nine o'clock. Even the Singhalese and Burghers are not yet generally up from their beds, though those who work at the wharves have appeared. If you had arrived a few hours later there would be thousands of the population here to see you."

"We are well satisfied with the hour, then," said John. "The fewer natives we have around the Sky-Bird, the better we like it, both for working and taking off. How long has that other crew been in, sir?"

"Not more than a half-hour. They are taking on their fuel now, being assisted by a couple of Burghers. They advised us that they would probably remain here until noon, being tired from their long flight from Aden. I don't know; why, but the slender man with the dark skin and mustache particularly requested me to see that you knew this intention of theirs."

The flyers thought this was rather strange. Why should the Clarion's crew remain so long in Colombo, when their interests in the race demanded as much time put into flying as possible? It was still more incomprehensible what object they would have in wishing the Sky-Bird's flyers to understand this intention, as by so doing our boys could make their plans to gain a heavy lead.

It was too much of a puzzle for them to work out, so Bob and Paul, aided by two Burghers (naturalized Europeans), went to work overhauling the machine and storing fuel, while John and Tom made their way into town with Sir Henry Hurst to transact their business. When they returned they found the two younger members of their crew in a heated discussion with the Clarion fellows.

"What's the matter here, anyhow?" demanded John, as he and Tom pushed their way through the little ring of natives who had gathered about the principals.

"It's just this way," said Pete Deveaux, with a grin meant to be very cool and indifferent, although his eyes roved uneasily; "We fellows were working on our machine here, minding our own business, when these two kids of yours came up and demanded to know why we had played you dirty at Freetown and Kuka. They accused us of purposely carrying off your share of fuel at Freetown, and of stirring up the natives at Kuka so you couldn't make a safe landing."

"We simply couldn't stand keeping quiet any longer, John," put in Paul very heatedly. "We thought it a good time to have it out with these fellows for their crookedness."

"That's right; they're a bunch of snakes!" supported Bob, his cheeks red with excitement and anger, and his fists doubled menacingly.

John turned to the slouching figures of the rival crew. "Do you fellows deny these charges?" he asked quietly.

Crossman, Torrey, and Lane looked at their leader, merely shrugging their shoulders. Pete Deveaux took a quick glance in their direction, in turn. Then his face clouded a little darker, and he blurted out to his men: "You confounded babies, why don't you deny it? You know we didn't do anything on purpose to hold these guys back!"

"That's right; we sure didn't," said Sam Lane.

"Of course not," added Chuck Crossman.

"Wouldn't think of it," interjected Oliver Torrey.

Our boys were disgusted by the cringing attitude of Pete Deveaux's cronies. Two of them were larger than the Frenchman, yet they seemed to be afraid of him. John saw that nothing was to be gained at this time by continuing the argument, so he pulled his comrades away with this parting and significant warning to their rivals: "Well, Deveaux, we'll let this drop now; but we certainly hope that you will take pains to see that nothing more of so strongly a suspicious character occurs on this trip!"

Pete Deveaux snarled back some answer which they could not make out.

Our friends returned to the Sky-Bird. In a few minutes Bob, who had climbed on top of the fuselage to test the helium valves, came down and said: "Something new is going on over in our neighbor's yard, fellows. When I was up there I could see right over the natives' heads, and I noticed Chuck Crossman and Pete Deveaux hunting around the field till they found half-a-dozen rocks as big as a football, and they put these in the cabin of the Clarion. Wonder what on earth they intend to do with those?"

"It's too hard a nut for me to crack," answered John.

The others expressed equal inability to discern the purpose of their rivals, and the incident was soon forgotten.

But twenty minutes later the familiar roar of a revolving airplane propeller greeted their ears, and they were surprised to observe the Clarion rising up over the field. They watched the machine until it had disappeared in the cloud mists to the east. Then they awoke.

All saw the game of their rivals now. By making the Sky-Bird's crew believe they did not intend to leave until noon, the latecomers would be inclined to take their time fitting up for the next hop, and this would give the Clarion's party a chance to make a sudden exit and gain a good lead before the others could get under way.

There was no getting around it—Pete Deveaux was clever, if he were a rascal. This our friends had to admit to themselves, despite their dislike of the fellow. His methods of getting the best of them seemed to have no limit; and yet thus far they had been able to cling, by the hardest kind of work, right at his heels. This last trick was more honest strategy than Deveaux had exhibited before, and they could therefore admire it in that sense. They hoped that from now on his maneuvers might be as free from maliciousness.

But their rivals had not fooled them as badly as they thought. Our flyers had lost no time upon landing in refitting, and when they saw the Clarion take off, they speeded up operations so fast that they were able to depart only fifteen minutes later.

Almost straight eastward they headed, bearing just a little to the southward, so as to strike Singapore on a bee-line. They hoped to reach this stop some time before dark, which would give them approximately twelve hours' flying time. Under ideal weather conditions, they could make the journey in considerably less time, but it was the season for the well-known monsoons of the Indian Ocean, and it was quite unlikely that they would be able to wing their way across the fourteen hundred odd miles of sea without encountering some of these deterrent trade-winds.

It took them just an hour to cross the island of Ceylon, and flying at about fifteen hundred feet, they winged their way out over the whitecaps of the ocean. To their unspeakable pleasure they found the winds not at all bad, and made good speed. Bob was at the throttle, Paul was observing, and John and Tom were sleeping.