As the meal came to an end the clump, clump of horses' feet in the sand announced that Buck had arrived and that it was time for breaking the "special car" camp. Alan and Elmer hastened to clean up the little kitchen that had given the boys so many savory meals and to pack up the remaining provisions, and Ned jumped off the car to see Buck.

To the lad's surprise he found Gus, the tramp, just as dirty and just as cheerful as ever, proudly mounted on one of the newly arrived horses. Buck noticed the surprise in Ned's face and explained:

"The helper I thought I could get fell down on me. My boarder's goin' with us. I guess he'll do."

"You understand you don't know where you're going," said Ned, approaching Gus as he rolled off his horse, "nor when you're coming back?"

"I knows dat we ride and dat dere's chuck a-plenty," smiled Gus, "and whichever way it is," he added lowering his voice and chuckling, "can't be no worse dan Buck's place—fur me."

"Do you want to go?"

"Well, I ain't a settin' up nights a longin' to, but to oblige a friend, Mr. Buck, I allowed meself to be persuaded."

"Well, we'll see," said Ned.

Ned rather wanted to watch this young man. Something suggested that the tramp was too quick witted to be made a party to their plans. Ned didn't exactly know what harm the stranger could do them, but he decided to talk it over with Alan. While Buck was hitching up the horses Ned turned to go into the car.

They were loading from the far side opposite the hydrogen cask and as Ned passed the corner of the car he almost ran into the station agent. The agent, who was also the telegraph operator, had a telegram for Ned, which the boy took eagerly. Ned had sent a message to Major Honeywell, telling of their safe arrival, and did not doubt that this was some important afterthought of the Major's. The address ran: "Mr. Ned Napier, Private car Placida, Clarkeville, New Mexico." Tearing open the envelope Ned read:

"Just learned Kansas City Comet has story mysterious trip for government starting Clarkeville. Real object not known. Look out not followed.

"Baldwin Honeywell."

With three jumps Ned was in the car and had pull Alan into the drawing room portion. The telegram was read again and the two boys looked at each other in astonishment.

"How could they?" began Alan.

"No matter how," answered Ned, almost out of breath. "They did and that's enough. Now I know!"

"Know what?"

Ned pushed his chum to the side of the car and pointed outside where Buck and his helper were at work.

"Look at him," he exclaimed.

"At Buck?"

"No. At the tramp who won't wash his face, who has a gentleman's underclothes and who is so anxious to work for us!"

"Well, I see him. But—"

"Haven't you ever seen those sharp eyes before?"

"You don't mean—?"

"I do. If that isn't Bob Russell, the Comet reporter, I'm a goat."



CHAPTER XII

NED TO BOB RUSSELL'S RESCUE

It was a time for quick and fast thinking, and Ned and Alan did it. Alan's instant suggestion that they denounce the disguised tramp was almost as quickly voted down.

"So long as we didn't know who he was he had the advantage of us. Now that we know—" and neither of them now doubted the fact for an instant. "We have the advantage of him," argued Ned. "Let's turn that knowledge to profit. We can easily guess what he is trying to do. Major Honeywell's message says our real object is not known. This reporter has learned something, and I suspect he could have found quite a lot from the train crew. On that he has written a good enough story to attract attention. That shows he is no fool. And he wouldn't come out here unless he had been sent. Who would send him? Why, his paper, of course, to discover our real mission."

"What can we do to head him off?" mused Alan.

"There are two ways," suggested Ned, "and we've got to make one of them effective. I don't know how he has guessed but he must not have another guess. And he's seen a good deal."

"We might have him arrested," suggested Alan.

Ned thought awhile.

"I'll tell you, Alan," he said finally. "The young men of the press to-day may write fanciful stories, and they may even 'fake' where it injures no one, but personally they won't lie. Let's call our tramp in here, confront him with his imposture and give him his choice of writing nothing or of being drummed out of town."

"Who'll make him leave town?"

"Marshal Jack Jellup wouldn't need two suggestions on that score. And more, he'd see that the order was obeyed. I don't like to do it, but I think we're justified. He's taking that chance."

Again the thing was gone over, with arguments for and against, and then Elmer was hastily dispatched to find Jellup and bring him to the car.

"And Buck will lose his helper," laughed Alan.

"Better that than a second expedition on our heels," answered Ned

"Gus!" he called, throwing open a window. "Come in here!"

The tramp soon stood before them.

"Geel Dis is a swell joint," were the tramp's first words as with apparent awkwardness he entered the car.

Ned acted as spokesman.

"You say you've promised Buck to go with him without knowing where you are going?"

"Dat's about de cheese."

"Well, we are willing. But I may as well tell you that this is a secret expedition. If you go you must promise that you will not tell anyone what you see or hear."

The tramp's face suddenly took on a peculiar look, but it was gone as quickly.

"I gives me woid. I won't open me trap to no one."

"Meaning you won't say anything about it?" smiled Ned inquiringly.

"Dat's it. Mum's de woid. I won't open me trap."

"Nor write anything?"

The furtive look came back, this time more pronounced.

"Me to write! Wit wot? Me new typewriter?"

"That isn't an answer. Do you promise, if we send you with Buck, that you'll neither tell nor write nor make known in any way what you learn about what we are doing?"

"Say, look here, boss. Quit yer kiddin'. Me name is Lippe and mebbe I shoot it off a bit too frequent now and then, but you don't need to be afeered o' me peachin' to de udder'Bos.'"

"I'm not afraid of that," continued Ned. "We don't care what you tell all the tramps this side of Kansas City. But we don't want you to print anything more about us in the Comet."

Hardly a flush came on the tramp's face. There was a quick movement of the lips as if he were about to make protest and then he laughed outright.

"Bob Russell," said Ned, also laughing, "would you like the use of our bath tub for a few moments?"

"Would I!" laughed the young reporter rubbing his tinted and smoke begrimed hands together as if to wash them. "Well, I guess I would. My hands are up. What's next?"

"Wash up and we'll see," exclaimed Ned.

The young reporter was still laughing. "And if it isn't too much trouble," he asked, "would you mind if Buck took his check over to the depot and got the suit case that it calls for? Then we'll talk business."

In less than twenty minutes the sun burnt, dirty Gus Lippe had been transformed into the dapper Bob Russell. When be reappeared in fresh linen, outing clothes and a natty straw hat, he was still laughing. Approaching the group in the drawing room, where Marshal Jack Jellup had now arrived, the young reporter took out his pocket book and a five dollar bill.

"I'll pay that back first," he began; and then noticing one of his cards he politely handed it to the marshal. It read:

ROBERT RUSSELL KANSAS CITY COMET

"Ye'r a purty fresh kid," sneered Jellup.

"At your service, Mr. Officer."

Jellup had already received an explanation of the whole affair and was aching to exercise his authority.

"Ye'r an impostor," he began, "and ef ye hadn't been caught, ye'd have taken money on false pretenses. I was onto ye."

"Oh, now," interrupted Bob, "at two dollars Mex per day I'd have given good value."

"Mebbe," retorted the marshal, "but these gentlemen hev come here on particular business and they came like gentlemen. The officials o' this city hev give their word that there shouldn't be no interferin' with their plans. And thet's what you're a-doin'. Now git!"

Ned broke in:

"One moment, Mr. Marshall"

"Oh, that's all right, Mr. Napier," exclaimed the reporter, "he doesn't mean just that. He knows I don't have to leave here so long as I obey the law."

"Ye don't, don't ye?" retorted the marshal. "Well, there ain't no back east law down here. Our law books mebbe got all burnt up. And mebbe I happen to be purty much o' the law myself. Ye'll git and git quick."

Again Ned interfered.

"I suppose if we ask you to permit Mr. Russell to stay here he can," he asked.

"Well, I reckon that would be so. Ef ye ask it I reckon I'll have to," he replied surlily.

Ned and Alan held a brief consultation.

"We have decided to ask the authorities to permit you to remain here on one condition."

The, intelligent face of Bob took on a quizzical air as he waited to hear the condition.

"That is," went on Ned, "that you give us your word that you will not make known anything you have seen here, or of our plans so far as you may know them."

Bob's answer was immediate.

"I can't do that," he said, "I was sent here to do just that thing, and as quickly and as fully as I can. You ought to understand, and do, I think, that I have a duty to perform. I've taken the trouble to come all the way out here to get a story. I've got it and of course I'm going to use it. I should be false to my duty, to my employers and to myself if I promised not to do this."

"But you don't know our story."

"And I'm sorry. But I should have known it all if I had had a little better luck."

"Then you won't promise?"

"Decidedly not."

The boys showed that they were as stubborn as he.

"Then we'll see that you learn no more," Alan exclaimed angrily.

Bob smiled. "You can't take away what I already know, and it will take a pretty long story to tell all I am going to guess from what I have seen."

As he spoke his eyes were on Major Honeywell's chart of the Tunit Chas Mountains, which had carelessly been left lying on the table where it had been in use during breakfast in the last explanations to Elmer.

Ned's face reddened in new anger. He did not resent what the young reporter was doing; he even realized that he might do the same thing himself; but he was chagrined to find himself caught in such a simple manner. That was a big piece of additional information for Russell to have, and Ned knew it. Hard as the thing was to do he would at least put the young man out of the way of further discoveries.

"All right," he exclaimed, "we've tried to do the fair and decent thing, and if you want to be stubborn Marshal Jellup can do as he likes."

"Git!"

It was the marshal who spoke and he did so as if it were a pleasure.

"I'll take the Limited west to Gallup at noon," said Russell, "if I can stop it and catch the eastbound train there to-night."

"Then ye'll flag it along the road," shouted Jellup, "fur ye'll get out o' here on foot and in a hurry."

"On foot?" exclaimed Russell in surprise.

"That's what I said an' ye heerd me."

Russell looked in appeal at the two boys.

Ned was mad, and mad all over.

"You are so quick to have your own way," he said, "you can't blame us."

"All right," was the cheery response, "it'll lend a bit of local color to the story. Goodbye, boys. And good luck to you. I'll see you when you come back."

"Remember," said Alan relenting a trifle, "we'll let you stay until we leave if you'll promise to write nothing."

Bob laughed again.

"What good would that do me? No experience means anything to me that I can't turn into copy. And as for walking—I'd walk from here to Kansas City or crawl before I'd lie down on my shop like that."

"Come on, kid, get busy," exclaimed Jellup again. "An' when ye start, don't bother about lingerin', because I'll be hangin' around and I'm good with this at some distance."

As he spoke he drew a Colt 44 and tapped it.

"Never fear, Mr. Jellup," laughed Bob. "I suppose I can express my suit case to the next town?"

"Ye can't do no business in this city, d'ye hear? Now, come on."

"Say, partner," interrupted Bob with his usual good humor, "if you will let me take a snap of you I'll make you celebrated. 'Famous gun man' of New Mexico. It'll be great."

In another moment the nettled marshal had Bob by the shoulder and was whirling him out of the car. On the steps he threw the suit case onto the sandy plain and then pushed the reporter roughly down the steps. Ned and Alan stood, with flushed faces, watching the reporter pick up his hat and suit case. Then young Russell made a remark they could not hear and the marshal's revolver flashed in the air. They could see the boy's face grow pale at last, but as he straightened up the two men disappeared around the freight house.

Like a flash Ned was on the ground and after the marshal and his victim. Alan and Buck came running in the rear, for the alert Buck saw that something was in the air. It was early day and only a straggler or two was in sight at the depot. The sun, already mounting high, foretold a day of depressing heat. The steel lines of the railway stretched interminably eastward toward the first stop forty miles away.

Bob Russell, pale but defiant, stood in the middle of the track, his heavy suit case in his hand.

Suddenly there was the crack of a revolver and the dust flew about the young reporter's feet.

"Jist as a sample!" roared the angered Jellup. "The next one'll be higher up." And his trembling finger pointed down the hot sandy track.

There was nothing more to be done. The pale-faced but nervy reporter turned toward the east and started slowly down the track.

Ned ran forward.

"Russell!" he shouted, "Russell!"

As the reporter paused and turned, hearing his name, there was a second report of the marshal's revolver and Russell's suit case flew from his hand, ripped and torn ragged by a forty-four bullet.

The smoke of the explosion puffed upward and, where it had been, the marshal saw Ned Napier's automatic magazine revolver under his nose.

The boy was white with indignation. The possible serious results that might come to him and his plans meant nothing in his anger at such a dastardly act.

"It isn't a Colt," he said with dry lips, "but, if you make another move like that it's got ten shots and they come out all together."



CHAPTER XIII

QUICK JUSTICE IN THE WEST

Jack Jellup, marshal and "bad man," was never more surprised in his life. But Jack was no fool, and something in Ned Napier's eyes made the westerner conclude instantly that he had unexpectedly and unquestionably "barked up the wrong tree." For a few moments the marshal and the young aeronaut stood facing each other and then Jellup sneered:

"Do you reckon you'd better run this town?"

"No, nor you," quietly answered Ned, "and if that's the way you are going to do it you can settle with me right now. I'm going to stand on my rights."

He was conscious that Russell had hurried back and was behind him. Another second and there was a sharp click. Both Jellup and Ned turned to see the nervy young reporter with the torn suit case open on the ground at his feet. A snap shot camera was in his hand. His face was white, but there was a trace of his usual smile on it. Ned wanted to laugh too, but the situation was too serious.

"I've got you both," said Bob, a little nervously, "and if it's a good one I've got a dandy—'shooting up the town or the bad man covered'—"

Had it not been for Ned's lightning-like action these might have been Bob's last words. Jellup's pistol had flashed once more, but as it dew into position Ned's own weapon rose with it under Jellup's right hand and the marshal's shot passed over Bob's head. Before Jellup and Ned could recover themselves Bob's camera was on the ground and the reporter had his own revolver, which he had grabbed quickly from the suit case.

In the center of this group now stood, unarmed, Alan Hope and old Buck. Almost at the same time a dozen men, attracted by the melee, had also intervened and had taken charge of the three excited combatants.

Pushing the crowd right and left appeared the stalwart form of Mayor Curt Bradley, weaponless, but with the stem face of one who gives orders that cannot be ignored.

"Put 'em up, every one of you," he exclaimed; "do ye hear? Put 'em up."

"Ye'r both under arrest," shouted Jellup to Ned and Bob.

There was a quick explanation and then Mayor Bradley, still very stem of face, ordered everybody across the street to his office above the drug store. Men seemed to spring out of the ground, and the room was instantly packed to suffocation. Marshal Jellup made a formal charge against the two boys of "resisting and interfering with an officer" and then each told his story. The decision was immediate. Mayor Bradley ordered that both boys be released and the court be instantly cleared.

Jellup made his way noisily toward the door, his face white with rage. Apparently a number present were his friends and cronies, for the looks of sympathy that he got turned into open murmurs of dissent.

Mayor Bradley was on his feet at once.

"What's the matter?" he began incisively. "Is there some one here who wants to appeal from my decision?"

The hubbub subsided but there wag no response.

"The time to make any complaint about my decision is right now and to me," went on the tall Bradley, looking over those in the room.

But no one apparently cared to take up Jellup's cause. When the spectators had gone the Mayor, who had sternly watched the slow exit of the last loiterer, turned to the boys.

"I thank you, Mr. Bradley," exclaimed Ned earnestly.

"And I want to thank both of you," quickly added Bob Russell, taking the hand of each. "I'm the cause of this and I'm sorry. I guess you saved my life twice," he added, wringing Ned's hand. "If it hadn't been for you the Comet certainly would never have heard from me again. I guess that, puts all my obligation up to you."

"No," said Ned, "I can't let you say that. You have your own duty just as I have mine. We'll go over to the car and wait for the two o'clock Limited. Then you are at liberty to go and write your story and do its you like."

"He don't have to leave," interrupted the Mayor; "this is a free town and it's going to be an orderly one."

"And I'm not going to," broke in Bob. "You've got yourself in a muss over me and some of these soreheads may try to make you more trouble. If you'll let me, I'll stay to the end and if it comes to a mix-up I'm going to be right there with you."

Mayor Bradley smiled and old Buck slapped the reporter on the back.

"But how about the story you say you are going to write about us," asked Alan.

"There wouldn't have been any story if it hadn't been for Mr. Napier," replied Bob. "And there isn't going to be one until he tells me to write it. It's up to him."

Ned was looking out of the window at the curious loungers standing in the street. He was thinking of the work yet to be done and of all the difficulties that the discomfited marshal might put in his way. It wasn't a "picnic proposition." He didn't fear for himself, but the thought of his expensive and delicate outfit and of how easily it might be irreparably injured was not reassuring.

"Russell," he said finally, "I think we need you. If you care to stay with us we'll be glad to have you. It isn't because I don't want to be bluffed by Jellup, but because you are game. If you'll go with Buck and Elmer, I'll try to make it worth your while—some time—and you shall be the historian of this expedition—when the time comes to write its story."

Am hour later the delayed overland expedition was on its way toward the desert. There had been a quick shopping expedition in the stores of Clarkeville and Bob Russell, in a new hat and boots and various other articles of clothing, most of them too large for him, sat proudly on the driver's seat of the second wagon. Around his waist was a new cartridge belt and holster carrying Ned's gift, a 44 revolver—"for game or rattlesnakes," as the boys expressed it, but the weapon was not concealed when the little cavalcade traversed the main street of the town, and if Jellup was an onlooker Ned felt sure that the outwitted marshal would think twice before again molesting the expedition.

"All set," laughed Bob, as the final farewells had been said, and he held up his camera, "now for the real thing."

Ned and Alan were now alone. To tell the truth, the excitement of the morning had been rather trying for them, but if it left them a trifle nervous they soon forgot their apprehension in making the last of the transfer. There was now another reason for abandoning the car. With headquarters established in the corral they would be near the balloon and its equipment, and if Jellup should permit his ill will to develop into some overt act, they would be in a position more easily to protect themselves. For that reason a number of their "greaser" assistants were taken to the car before noon and the hydrogen cask was loaded on the small wagon and carefully freighted to the corral. Then followed the remainder of the provisions and the personal belongings of the boys. Early in the afternoon the Placida was closed and turned over to the railway agent.



CHAPTER XIV

BUILDING AN AIR SHIP

When Ned announced to Alan that they would at once unpack and test the motor—"for we might as well stop if the engine isn't right," as he put it—all thoughts of the troubles of the early day vanished. And the motor certainly was a beauty. Though some expert had recommended the French motor, Ned had preferred to use one made in America, not only because he had been able to get it quicker but because he believed it as good as the foreign make.

The engine had eight air-cooled cylinders, in two sets of four, placed at an angle of ninety degrees to each other. The crank case was of aluminum and the shaft of vanadium steel, hollow, and specially treated to insure toughness. All the studs or bolts were of the same steel. Complete, with balance wheel, it weighed two hundred pounds. The ignition was accomplished by six dry batteries and a single-wire vibrating coil. It was rated at fifty horsepower.

So exactly had the preliminary work been done at the factory that in two hours the boys were able to have the engine bolted to the section of the car where it was to be used, and before evening the radiator tubes and pump of the cooling system were also in place. Temporary connections were set up and the sparking wires attached, and then the reservoir was filled with gasoline. A little jar as the wheel was turned, then a couple of sharp explosions, and the engine fell to its work as if it had been running for weeks.

Ned shut it off after a moment's critical inspection.

"Let her flicker!" pleaded Alan. "We've waited so long for a real one that I like to hear her buzz."

"We'll let her buzz when we can use the buzz," laughed Ned. "Gasoline is gasoline, you know."

Night did not stop the work of the eager lads. As soon as they had eaten a light meal, Ned and Alan, with a couple of lanterns and a half dozen of candles, began to adjust the sections of the car. These, seven in number, when joined, were 54.12 feet in length. The American spruce frame and the aluminum joints were all intact. This work finished the day.

Blankets on the rough floor were good enough for the explorers that night. The luxury of the Placida's mattresses and fresh sheets was missed, as was Elmer's skill as a chef when it was time for breakfast the next morning. The boys were not so indifferent about this meal as they had been about that of the evening before. They had no stove, but they took the time to arrange a regular camp in a comer of the corral. A little fire was soon burning, at which they made coffee and toasted some bacon. This, with hardtack and some preserved fruit, they thought was enough, for they were determined not to disturb the carefully packed provisions that were to be carried in the balloon.

"Have you had enough?" asked Ned as the last piece of scorched bacon disappeared.

"Enough?" answered Alan. "A regular banquet!"

Just then there was a loud thump on the closed door of the barn.

"The hands are arriving," explained Ned, and he hastened to open the door.

A few of the workmen were there, but the knocking had been done by a pleasant faced woman—apparently a Mexican. A black shawl covered her head and one arm. It was Mrs. Bourke, Buck's wife.

"I thought," she said smiling, "hungry."

Without further words she threw back the shawl and revealed a small tin pail. The appetizing odor made Ned's mouth water. In the bottom of the bucket were frijoles, or boiled and fried Mexican black beans cooked in pepper, and on top of these were a half dozen smoking hot tortillas or corn cakes.

"Mrs. Buck," exclaimed Alan, "you have saved our lives!"

All recollection of his recent banquet seemed to have disappeared, and so did Mrs. Bourke's bucket of beans and cakes, in double-quick order. The reward was a bright silver dollar for the thoughtful woman and a contract that she should come three times a day and prepare the boys' meals. It would have been easier to have gone to Buck's home, only a short distance away, but the boys were now determined to stay in the corral, or leave it only one at a time. However, they soon developed a taste for Mrs. Bourke's peculiar hot wholesome dishes and these, with what provisions they had on hand, were a fair substitute for Elmer's cooking.

The frijoles having been disposed of, Ned at once went out, and was fortunate in finding a load of rough lumber and a sort of jack- carpenter. With the help of the boys a four foot-high series of "horses" or frames was set up in the center of the corral. This was for the car to rest on while it was being assembled. It was elevated so that the propeller and aeroplanes and rudder could all be tested after being set up. The propeller, 11.48 feet in length, revolved in bearings four feet above the bottom of the car.

After noonday refreshment the middle section of the car, to which the engine was already attached, was carefully lifted into place with the aid of the workmen, and then the laborers were paid off and dismissed—all except the watchmen. From now on there was nothing that the boys could not do themselves, and they wanted to be undisturbed and alone. The putting together of the car was a treat of which they had long dreamed and they were happy in their work.

The remaining sections were easily laid on 'the "horses" and then came the bolts and the bracing with piano wire. When brought together the fifty-four foot long skeleton was in shape much like a cigar. The main frame was six feet high, tapering to five feet at each end. In depth the dimensions were the same. The engine rested on the floor of the middle section and was accessible in all its parts from that compartment. An elevation of the floor in the forward part of this section made it possible for one to stand high enough to have an outlook in all directions through openings in a hooded elevation that projected above the top of the section.

This hood was of a waterproof silk, coated with powdered aluminum, that metal being used because of its semi-incombustibility. This silk also covered the sides of the central compartment, making a wind-, rain- and waterproof cabin. The lookout windows on all four sides were covered with isinglass. The bottom of the framework of the car forward and aft of the engine compartment had a ladder-like flooring of spruce, inserted more for strengthening the car than for service. But on top of the car, reaching from end to end, was a continuous runway two feet wide which could be used in hurriedly visiting either propeller or rudder. This runway was protected by guide ropes of Italian hemp running through posts extended upward from the sides of the car. The top of the engine compartment was completely floored, making a platform 6 x 6.12 feet square. This was surrounded by a protecting network, and Alan named it the "bridge."

A light rope-ladder extended into the engine cabin from an opening in the roof, making the top floor space or bridge and the upper runways quickly accessible. The gasoline reservoir, just forward of the engine, was connected with the bridge by a copper supply pipe. The extra supply of gasoline was to be carried on the bridge in the open air, and lashed to the netting instead of being stored in permanent reservoirs as is the usual practice. This was in order that the empty vessels might be thrown overboard when it was necessary to lighten the balloon.

The other sections of the car were each 8 feet long and decreasing in height from 6 feet next the cabin to 5 feet at the end of the car. In the two sections just forward of the cabin and in the two just aft provision had been made for attaching the eight liquid hydrogen casks—four at each end. As this liquid was reconverted into gas the light sheet-iron casings might likewise be cast overboard to lighten the balloon. As needed, the liquid hydrogen jars, coated with mercury, were to be taken from their casings and carried to the bridge where the reconverter was located.

Aft of the engine cabin was the store room for water and provisions. The grooves and rods for the counterweights and equilibrium adjuster ran in the middle of the upper footway and the propeller shaft rested on the bottom of the forward section of the car.

At ten o'clock that evening all the work on the car was finished except the buckling on of the aluminum silk sides and the hanging of the propeller, the rudder and the aeroplane sides. It was as long and as hard a day's work as either of the boys had ever done. They were dead tired, but happy, and after a sousing wash-up they got into their pajamas and, throwing their blankets on the floor of the little office, were soon fast asleep.



CHAPTER XV

HOW JACK JELLUP LOST AN ARM

In spite of his fatigue Ned did not sleep soundly. It had been threatening a thunder storm all evening and the increasing oppressiveness of the air made the young, aeronaut wakeful. The long whistle and jarring stop of the midnight local train finally fully aroused him. In the west the thunder was rumbling and great sheets of heat lightning promised a storm in a short time. After slipping out into the corral and seeing that the waterproof silk sides of the car were securely buttoned around the engine Ned returned and again tried to go to sleep.

But his restlessness continued. In his early sleep he had had a vivid dream about the wagon expedition. In this he thought that Marshal Jack Jellup had followed Elmer, Bob and Buck and set fire to the wagons while his friends were asleep in camp. It was a relief to awaken and find that the flash of light was lightning and not, as he had imagined in his dream, an explosion of the gasoline carried in Buck's big wagon. He lay awake awhile regretting the quarrel with Jellup, and then he sank into a doze again.

But his active brain would not rest. Again he fell into a dream. This time the picture was very real. The big balloon had been finished and launched. A thrill ran through him as he felt the monster craft poise and waver and then slowly rise above the corral. He could hear the cheers of those gathered about. But in the midst of them be heard the sudden crack of a revolver. Jack Jellup had put a bullet through the silken bulk of the bag. The cold perspiration broke out on Ned's forehead.

The dream was so real that he thought he could hear the taunting voice of Jellup. In feverish excitement Ned sprang upright, to find a pair of strong arms clasped about him. He did not cry out. A wave of cold fear seemed to benumb his tongue and brain. He knew this was no dream.

Forced onto his back, his face and eyes partly covered by the shoulders of his sudden captor, Ned's returning consciousness made him aware that there was a dim light in the office.

"It's Jellup, Ned," exclaimed in a whisper a sudden voice which Ned instantly recognized as Alan's.

"No more from you," exclaimed a rough voice in quick reply. "Here's the rope, Domingo."

The man on top of Ned knew his business. Almost before the boy realized what was being done his hands and feet were caught in dexterous knots and he was helpless.

"Now," continued the other voice, "let's have a few minutes' talk."

Ned's assailant had arisen, and for the first time the boy could look about. In the center of the room, with a sputtering candle in his hand, stood the revengeful Jellup. His companion Ned at once remembered as one of the noisy court room spectators of the day before. Between the two, clad in his pajamas and similarly bound, was poor Alan.

"Ye can stand or set, jist as ye like," began Jellup. "Me and me deputy hev made this little visit to ye fur a purpose. The citizens of this town is tired of yer carryin's on and they've just delegated me to ascertain what it all means. We got a purty good idee."

"Well, what is your idea?" interrupted Ned, slowly regaining his composure and his natural defiance.

"My idee is that ye don't need no flyin' machine anywhar except to git away quick and what we want to know is what air ye goin' to take with you when ye fly away?"

"Nothing that doesn't belong to us," answered Ned, "if that is what you mean."

"Ye ain't, eh? I suppose ye don't know that thar's enough cow money in our bank to be worth stealin'?"

Both Ned and Alan looked at each other astounded.

"You don't think we look like safe robbers, do you?" began Alan.

"Ye look just slick enough fur that and more," retorted the marshal who had placed the candle on the table and roughly pulled Ned to his feet. "But I didn't come here to argy. Ye began by vilatin' the law and ye didn't come the way down here for no fun. Ef that ain't yer game, and we don't put it above ye, what's yer lay?"

"There's only one answer," said Ned. "None of your business."

The marshal shoved Ned nearer the table.

"Mebbe ye want to apologize fur that little bluff of yers yesterday—"

"No," said Ned, "but I'll accept yours."

Jellup's right hand was on his revolver.

"I ain't hyar to make no threats," he exclaimed, "and ye don't need to be afeered that I'm going to shoot ye. But I've got just one other little proposition. Ef ye don't cotton to that, why, thar ain't agoin' to be no Fourth o' July balloon ascension around hyar."

Ned straightened up.

"Your proposition can't be a fair one or you wouldn't come like a thief at this time of night—"

Jellup's pistol flashed in the air but fell back again as the marshal's left hand shot upward and struck Ned full in the face. Even as the tears sprang into the bound boys eyes and pain and anger flushed his pallid face, the cowardly Jellup fell backward and stumbled to the floor. Alan, standing just behind the man, had shot his knees forward, striking Jellup's legs in the hollow of his knees, and, thrown off his balance, the westerner lay sprawling on the floor. Before the marshal's confederate could interfere, Alan, tightly as he was bound, had flung himself on top of Jellup and with all the power he could throw into the act had butted his head into the marshal's face.

Am oath and a cry of pain indicated how true the stroke had been. Both Ned and the companion of Jellup sprang forward at the same time and the four fell in a silent distorted heap. But the encounter was unequal. In another moment both boys were lying side by side on the floor and their captors stood over them. Even in the half light of the little room both boys could see the blood-smeared cheek of the marshal.

Jellup's hand was on Domingo's arm holding him back from further attack on the helpless boys and the marshal was restraining his anger as a snake withholds its venom until it strikes.

"Purty good," sneered the marshal, "and the funny thing is ye hain't got a bullet through ye fur it. But my business ain't with dead ones. Onct more, air ye goin' to say what ye'r a plannin' to do?"

"Since it doesn't concern you in the least," said Ned, slowly, "no."

Jellup was silent a moment.

"Fur kids ye seem to have plenty o' money. Ye'r purty free spenders. I'll give ye one more chance. Ef ye've got a thousand dollars handy fur a kind of a bond as it were I guess that'll sort o' protect us."

"You mean for bribery?" exclaimed Alan.

"No, just instead of stealing," angrily added Ned. "We haven't a thousand dollars and if we had you couldn't get a cent of it. And to save you some trouble I'll say that what we have is in your bank."

Another half-uttered oath sounded on Jellup's lips.

"In thet case," retorted the marshal, "we'll jest show you that we mean business. That's a lie about the bank. Produce or take the consequences."

"Help yourself," replied Ned, "if you think we are lying."

"I ain't no pickpocket," retorted Jellup, "this is official. I tell ye it's a bond and this is yer last chanct to make good."

The boys remained silent.

But Jellup's companion was already busy. Leaving the marshal to stand guard over the boys he made a quick search of their clothing. But Ned was not so used to money as to be careless in the handling of it and the six hundred dollars that he had in gold was in a belt carefully concealed in the top of the liquid hydrogen crate, which, for safety, had been stored in a corner of the room.

When the silent Domingo threw down the working garments of the boys he took up the candle and began a tour of the room. The big black liquid hydrogen crate attracted his attention and he approached it. The red "Explosive—no fire" letters of warning apparently meant nothing to him, but Jellup halted him with a sharp warning, followed by a few words in Mexican. Domingo handed the candle to Jellup and the latter stepped toward the box.

"That means what it says," exclaimed Ned quickly and sharply.

The crate stood as it had been carried from Washington with the top on and the connecting hose extended upward through a hole made in the low roof in order that the slowly accumulating reconverted gas might escape in safety.

"Mebbe," said Jellup, "mebbe yes and mebbe no. I guess they ain't nothin' agoin' to explode that ain't set afire."

Ned noticed with satisfaction that the lid was properly locked. Jellup noticed it too. Without a word, he turned and easily found Ned's keys. Again he approached the crate, looking over the keys.

"Jellup," exclaimed Ned in alarm, "there's gas in that box, and if you go near it with a light you'll blow us all up."

"Gas, eh?" answered the eager Jellup. "Don't run no sich bluffs on me."

"I warn you," cried Ned as the man approached the box, "it's taking your life in your hands."

Something in the tone of Ned's voice must have alarmed Jellup, for he paused. Then he retreated a few steps and handed the almost burned out candle to the vigilant Domingo.

"I allow I kin jest hev a look without no light to oblige you. I've been purty curious about this precious package ever since I see it. And ye'r a sight too anxious consarnin' my safety."

What might really happen Ned did not exactly know. The gas generated from the liquid hydrogen was highly inflammable and explosive when confined. But the evaporation was exceedingly slow and the exhaust hose should easily carry the forming gas in safety to the air. But even a small accumulation might be in the partly depleted bulbs or the top of the crate and a fire would certainly ensue even if there was no violent explosion. And besides, just beneath the lid was their money—the cash Ned had secured for their further expenses and the return home.

"We are anxious for all of us," explained Alan.

"And mebbe anxious fur something else," sneered the marshal. "I reckon a peek in the dark ain't agoin' to hurt no one—an' it may help some."

"Drop on your face, Alan," whispered Ned, "and lie flat."

It was the only precaution they could take. Both felt that all their plans might end in a moment. But Ned could not resist watching—even though his face was close to the floor. He saw Jellup examine each key, guess the right one at once and then insert it in the lock. Yet, despite his assumed bravado, it was apparent that the man had considerable apprehension. For, before he turned the lock, he motioned to Domingo to retire further with the candle.

Finally, as if summoning his courage, the avaricious marshal snapped the key, threw back the catches on each end of the crate and then slowly and gingerly and at arm's length began to lift the lid. With the top an inch ajar he paused, waited a moment or two, and then began sniffing as if searching for an odor.

Ned saw him.

"It doesn't smell," he explained quickly, "but it's there. Look out!"

"Don't smell!" retorted Jellup. "Gas as don't smell? Well, that's agoin' some, I guess."

Nevertheless, he had dropped the lid.

But as quickly recovering himself he reached forward again and with a quick motion threw the top up and sprang back.

To Ned's relief nothing happened. Either the light was too far away or the gas had all been removed by the hose. But this relief was quickly succeeded by another alarm. There had been no explosion, but their financial means were now at the mercy of two thieves, and he and his churn, bound and helpless, were powerless to protect either themselves or their funds. There was nothing to be done but to grin and bear it. For Ned's new leather money belt, containing six hundred dollars in gold was stretched out conspicuously and at full length on top of one of the two rows of glass bulbs in the case.

"Lyin', as I thought," exclaimed Jellup. "Gimme' the light, Domingo." And the chuckle that followed almost instantly was indication enough that he had discovered the boys' small fortune.

"Dangerous, eh!" he laughed. "Now, we'll see if the city gits its bond."

Then he paused as if a thought had entered his head.

"But, jest to keep the record clean, I reckon ye'd better give it to me yerself, young 'un. Jack Jellup ain't no burglar. Loosen him up, Domingo. And fur fear ye might need persuadin' jest take a peek at this," and he drew his revolver.

When Ned had been liberated, Jellup pointed to the money belt.

"Jest be good enough to hand me whatever's in that," he exclaimed, "without no hesitation. Then we'll have a little talk about what else is agoin' to happen."

It was hard to surrender so easily but the risk of attacking two armed men single-handed was great. Ned walked slowly toward the crate.

"Get busy," ordered Jellup; "we've got other business yit to talk of."

Ned had a sudden impulse. The thing flashed on him and taking hold of the belt in the middle he lifted it until the two ends were just over an open-mouthed bulb of hydrogen, and then as if by accident dropped the belt into the jar. The clear, watery liquid splashed and the belt disappeared.

"Water," shouted the eager Jellup, "Jist plain water." And as Ned sprang back the gold-fevered marshal sprang forward and plunged his hand into the liquid.

He did not immediately know that his hand was in the depth of a liquid whose temperature was 423 degrees below zero. But the thin film of gas that instantly formed and protected his naked flesh dissipated in a moment and then one benumbing, paralyzing shock swept over Jack Jellup's body.

With a cry wrung from him by pain such as few mortals have ever experienced and survived, the stricken man fell unconscious to the floor—his arm frozen as solid as crystallized steel.



CHAPTER XVI

READY TO "LET GO ALL"

In the confusion that followed the sudden extinction of the candle, while Ned was freeing Alan and Jack Jellup was uttering heartrending groans, the marshal's confederate lost his nerve and made his escape. When a lantern had been procured, immediate attention was given to the stricken man.

Ned hastened to secure a bucket of water. Wrapping the corner of a blanket about the handle of a tin dipper he ladled out a spoonful of the liquid hydrogen and, although the numbing chill ran through his fingers and up his arm, he managed to pour the hydrogen into the contents of the bucket.

The pail of lukewarm water became almost instantly a cake of solid ice. As Ned dropped the tin dipper to the hard adobe floor it flew into a hundred pieces. The inconceivable cold had crystallized the metal until the slightest shock was sufficient to break it into pieces.

At the sound of the crashing tin Ned instantly thought of the belt of gold yet in the hydrogen jar. But a human being was in pain, and he gave his first attention to the suffering marshal. He had made the ice to use in drawing the frost out of Jellup's frozen arm. In a few moments he had mashed a portion of the ice into small bits, and using a blanket to make a pack, he soon had Jellup's rigid arm encased in the fine ice. This he applied for the same reason that snow and ice water are applied to frozen ears and noses. But his treatment was of no avail.

The rain was now falling steadily and it was dark, but Ned found that it was nearly day—a little after four o'clock. Jellup's suffering was so extreme that the boys had given him a hypodermic insertion of morphine, using their "snake-bite" outfit, and in a few minutes the man's ravings ceased and he quieted into a deep sleep.

While awaiting this, attention was given the gold. Feeling free to approach the now open jars with a light it was seen that a portion of, the belt protruded above the liquid. A cord with a sailor slip knot was lowered over the extended bit of leather, drawn taut with a jerk and the belt was slowly lifted out. A folded blanket had been placed on the floor to receive it. As Ned expected, the leather crumbled and broke like glass as the belt fell on the soft blanket.

"If you want change for a twenty-dollar gold piece just tap one of those with a stick." said Ned, laughing and pointing to the gold pieces scattered among the broken fragments of the belt.

"Not I," exclaimed Alan, "not after what happened to the tin dipper."

Leaving Alan to watch over the unconscious Jellup and the frozen gold, Ned dressed himself, and in spite of the rain hastened out in the just perceptible dawn to carry out a plan he and Alan had agreed upon. An hour later, with the assistance of Mayor Bradley, the marshal, now somewhat easier, was placed in a bed in his own home. Unless the silent Mexican told it no soul in all Clarkeville other than Mayor Bradley and the air ship boys knew why Jellup was absent from his haunts and his post of duty that day. Nor did many of them ever know, when Jellup reappeared on the streets after weeks of suffering, how he had been injured. They only knew that his right arm was gone and that he was no longer marshal.

The rain ceased with the coming of the day.

"If we don't get away pretty soon," suggested Alan, as Ned was getting into dry clothing preparatory to tackling another of Mrs. Buck's meals, "this thing will be getting on my nerves."

"Well," answered Ned philosophically, "there is mighty little worth having in this world that isn't hard to get."

If all went well that day the boys hoped to be ready to make their departure that night or the next morning. Therefore they went to work with a vim. Both felt more comfortable when, after finding that the gold coins had returned to their normal condition, they had again concealed them. The propeller, rudder and aeroplane guides were now put in place and tested.

As the engine, with a speed of 1,400 revolutions but geared down to 800, began to turn the shaft and the twelve-foot propeller began to revolve, Ned swung his hat in the air. Without a break the speed increased to 500, 600, and then 700 revolutions a minute.

"Shut her off," exclaimed Alan joyously, as the white arms flew round and round and the air shot backwards on both sides of the long car. At 750 revolutions the car was rocking and lurching as if it would soar birdlike into the air. At 800 the powerful pulling propeller began to overcome the rigidity of the framework on which the car rested and as Alan caught and held the car, fearful that it was about to fly away under the propeller power alone, Ned shut off the engine.

The next instant the two boys, with clasped hands, were doing an Indian war dance in their glee.

It was not long until the rudder wires and the aeroplane shafts had been attached to their proper guide wheels in the lookout or pilot portion of the engine cabin. Then came the preparation of the balloon bag itself. Here again Ned showed what he had accomplished in the six weeks he had spent in the East.

Clearing a space near the generating tanks, they placed the one hundred sand bags, weighing forty pounds each, in parallel rows. These sacks, with convenient loops on each for attaching the rigging of the bag as it was being filled, had already been prepared by the "greaser" laborers, but the placing of the two tons of dead weight was not a joke, and the boys regretted that they had not kept a few men around. But by noon this was done, and then the great waterproof fiber trunk containing the silk bag was rolled out between the retaining bags. The boys could not carry it, as the balloon itself weighed seven hundred and twenty pounds, but they improvised rollers and with many a laughing "yo he ho" finally accomplished the task.

The bag had been made by one of the leading aeronautical engineers of America, whose factory, strangely enough, was in one of the small inland towns of New York State. In a spirit of humor the manufactory had been termed the "Balloon Farm," and so famous was it that Ned had even planned to spend a part of his summer vacation visiting it. When Major Honeywell gave him the opportunity, Ned was at once determined to utilize every advanced idea of the skilled owner, whatever the cost.

The result was a machine-varnished and, as nearly as such a thing was possible, hydrogen gas-proof bag. In the construction of this the experienced manufacturer and engineer, who was no other than Professor Carl E. Meyers, the hero of hundreds of ascents, had used a new machine which applied simultaneously to both sides of the bag fabric several thin films of elastic varnish. The bag itself consisted of two layers of Japan silk between which was a layer of rubber, all being sewed together and then vulcanized.

But the balloon trunk was not opened at once. The pipe to convey the gas from the cooler and purifying tank had been brought in four-foot lengths of light wood, cemented and shellacked. Eight lengths of these were laid to the center of the cleared place and then the joints were wound with binding cement tape. When these things had been satisfactorily adjusted it was mid-afternoon. Everything now seemed ready for the filling up of the generating tanks, the inflation, the flight, and "good-bye."

Therefore, a final consultation was held. Wind tests conducted each day had shown the prevailing breezes favorable, or at least not against the aeronauts. The inflation would require approximately ten hours. If begun at once this would make the departure possible about midnight. This was not undesirable as the absence of the hot southwestern sun would make the gas easier to control. But another thing had to be taken into consideration. Only four days had elapsed since Elmer and Bob and Buck had started. Were they yet at the rendezvous?

"I don't see what difference that makes," said Alan. "We expect to sail directly north and east of the foothills. If they have not reached their camp they must be nearly there and on the way. We've got to locate them with our glasses anyway. Let's start and pick them up where we find them."

"True enough," answered Ned. "The way the engine is working, in this light favoring wind, we ought to make eighteen miles an hour anyway. If we leave at midnight, by five o'clock in the morning we can be ninety miles north. The only trouble is in the handling of the bag. It's going to take at least twenty men to move the inflated bag from the retaining weights to the car and we can't make the rigging fast in the dark. We'd better begin work at four o'clock to-morrow morning, as soon as it begins to be light, and get away about two in the afternoon. I think we'll see our friends about seven or just at dark, if we do."



CHAPTER XVII

AN INTERRUPTED FLIGHT

And so it was arranged. The young aeronauts thus had all afternoon to store provisions, water, gasoline and the instruments. The altitude barometer, the recording thermometer, the statoscope and recording hygrometer, together with the telescopic camera were each given a place on the bridge and lashed to the netting. The twenty-five-foot rope-ladder, strong but light, that was to hang below the car, and the anchor and drag rope, were attached, the name pennant of white with the word "Cibola" resplendent in blue, "turquoise blue," explained Ned—was unfurled on its little staff just abaft the big propeller, and a new silk American flag was laid out it the stern of the car to be run up on its halyards as soon as the bag was attached.

Then came the careful transfer of the liquid hydrogen. One at a time the cast iron eases were carried from the building, hoisted aboard the car and lashed in place. Before supper Ned had time to go to the depot and send a telegram to Major Honeywell, who was yet in Chicago. It read:

"Ready for inflation. All O. K. Sail at 2 P. M. to-morrow, August 11."

He then visited "Saloon Row" and arranged for twenty men to report at four o'clock the next morning. No chances were to be taken that night. Dividing the hours up to four A. M. into two watches, the two boys had supper and Ned was soon fast asleep on the floor of the car "trying it out."

At the first blush of dawn the corral gates were thrown open and in a short time all the men engaged reported. Some of them were put to work dumping the heavy iron filings into the big oak gas generators and Ned and Alan began the delicate work of laying out the bag, bottom side up the thin silken folds of the golden shell were slowly lifted and laid on the ground. When the bottom filling valve had been attached to the wooden gas conduits the mammoth sections of the long gas receptacle were stretched out on top and then carefully smoothed until an even inflation was assured.

This done, the rigging trunk was opened and the seine-like mass of delicate hemp cords laid over the bag. No "greasers" were permitted to assist in this. Ned and Alan, in bare feet, laboriously but carefully drew the silk folds of the bag into the net. When this was completed the suspension cords reached out in all directions like skeleton fingers. In a quarter of an hour these had been attached to the retaining bags with slip knots and then the boys were surprised to find that it was already after six o'clock. At their best they could not now hope to reach the relief camp before nine o'clock and after dark.

Mrs. Buck came with a huge pot of coffee for all, and then followed the last step. One by one, borne on the shoulders of the curious workmen, the dangerous carboys of sulphuric acid were emptied into the generating tanks. The boys guided each step of the men, explaining the danger, and the work was finally completed without hitch or accident.

At the first bubble of gas the boys felt like doing another war dance. But they were "business men" now and had to put on dignity in the face of their employees. In two hours the reaction of the bubbling acid had sent enough hydrogen through the purifier to raise the bag shoulder-high and everything was going splendidly. The boys had removed their working clothes and were now in the light but warm canvas suits and caps they meant to wear in their flight.

Ned stole away a few minutes and at the bank secured bills to pay off the men. On his way back he stopped to invite Mayor Bradley to lunch with them on the Cibola and to be present at the "let go." By noon the men had been paid and the articles of baggage and tools that were to be left behind had been packed, tagged with shipping directions and turned over to Buck's wife.

The cigar-like bag, 98.4 feet long and 17.4 feet in diameter, which was to hold over 65,000 feet of gas, was now so far inflated that it was nearly off the ground. Then Mayor Bradley came. With pride the boys bade him climb into the cabin of the Cibola.

"You won't find anything hot in a balloon, Mr. Mayor," laughed Ned, "except the reception. Make yourself at home."

On the bridge of the craft the two boys and their guest had luncheon. Cold potted chicken and baked beans served on wooden plates with hardtack and water, and sweet chocolate for dessert, was the simple meal, but it tasted like a feast.

"Have you christened the craft yet?" finally asked the Mayor who had absorbed some of the enthusiasm of the young aeronauts.

"That's for you to do," politely answered Ned.

The luncheon was hurried to a finish, for the boys could see that the bag needed final attention. It had risen higher and higher and was now swaying and tugging at the suspension ropes. Both boys alighted and at once began straightening the extension ropes. Here and there where the cordage net was out of place they pulled down the bag and adjusted the rigging. Finally a little after three o'clock, the great case had filled out until its smooth glistening sides resembled the skin of a fat sausage.

"All ready!" ordered Ned as he shut of the valve of the cooling and purifying box. "Now, every man bear a hand."

One at a time the extension cords were untied from the retaining bags, and each of the workmen was given four of the light but strong lines. The Mayor himself passed among the men with stern injunctions to hold fast. As the last cord was loosed the great tugging bag was held wholly by the scared men. Then, with slow and measured steps, the double line of assistants advanced to the car and along each side of it.

"All steady," commanded Ned when each man had been placed; "now hang onto her."

Then he and Alan, springing into the car, began the work of making it fast to the bag. There was a place marked for each of the extension ropes, and the air ship builders, beginning at each end of the car, carefully adjusted and tied the end of each rope to the frame of the ship. As the cords were taken from the attendants the men took hold of the lower framework of the car, and to make doubly sure each man was cautioned to throw his entire weight into the work.

At last the final rope was made fast, and three thousand pounds of human flesh and muscle were holding the tugging balloon. Ned, covered with perspiration, and nervous but happy, was hastily connecting the compensating balloon tube with the hand blower on the bridge, and Alan had run astern to tie the new national colors to the halyards swinging from the end of the bag.

"Hold on," cried Ned seeing that Alan was ready to run up the stars and stripes. "Just a moment. Are you all ready, Mr. Mayor?"

"All ready," came the answer from the town official, as he stood on a box, his hat off and a revolver in his hand.

"With a western salute I christen this balloon the 'Cibola,'" he exclaimed, and a shot punctuated his speech. "Good luck and goodbye!"

As the shot sounded Alan's flag ran fluttering upwards. Ned's eyes took one final look fore and aft and then he leaned over the car for the last words for which all were waiting.

They were on his lips and the eyes of twenty straining men were fixed on him to hear the command, "Let go." One nervous attendant, apparently thinking the order had been given, threw up his arms with a shout.

At that instant there was a second sharp pistol shot, and a quick cry from the street outside the corral.

"Hold on there, all of you!" shouted Ned. His dream had rushed back to him with a sickening chill. Had some one shot at the towering bag? "Hold on!" he yelled.

At that moment there was another shout and Bob Russell, his face red with the sun and his shirt wet with perspiration, walked into the corral. In his right hand was gripped a revolver and in his left a repeating rifle. In front of him, and prodded on by Bob's pistol, was the Mexican, Domingo, Jack Jellup's tool and fellow thief.



CHAPTER XVIII

FREE AND AFLOAT AT LAST

This is what had happened.

At the time of the rain storm, two days before, Buck and his cavalcade were in camp on the bank of the dry Chusco, sixty miles north of Clarkeville. The experienced scout knew that a water supply was now assured, and he at once followed prearranged orders by instructing Bob to return with the smaller wagon. This was a sad blow to the young reporter, but it was a part of his contract and he knew that it was his duty to obey. And with necessity before him, he acted promptly. Emptying the heavy casks, Bob started on the back trail at five the following morning, and by night had made thirty miles with the light wagon. All day he wondered if it might not be possible to reach Clarkeville again before the Cibola sailed.

The next morning, spurred on by the hope that he might do this, he started at daybreak. By the middle of the morning he was on the old wagon trail and making better time. Some time after two o'clock he came up over the rise of the last foothills and saw, eight miles away, the glistening shape which he at once knew was the inflated balloon. He hesitated a moment and then, unhitching the horses, mounted one bareback and began a dash for the town. The animals were tired and worn, and progress was slow, but it beat walking, and Bob urged them on.

As the young reporter came nearer and the balloon grew more distinct he knew that it would be a close call. From time to time as the winded horses dropped into a walk Bob wondered why he was making such a race. "I can't go with them," he argued. But, like the trained reporter, be decided that no effort was wasted that gave him new information. And it was something out of the ordinary to see the most complete balloon ever made start on a mysterious flight into the wilderness.

So he spurred up the horses anew. The hot sun reflected from the yellow sands burnt his face and his muscles were sore, but he stuck to it. When half a mile from the town he could see the boys on the bridge of the Cibola. When a quarter of a mile away he decided that he could beat the horses by going afoot, and, throwing himself to the ground, he ran onward, knowing that the tired animals would follow. Out of breath he reached the edge of the town and stumbled on toward the corral.

With head down he plunged forward. Almost at his goal he threw his head up for breath just in time to notice a kneeling man with a rifle at his shoulder.

"Hey!" yelled Bob with what breath he had.

Then he saw that the man was aiming directly at the balloon swaying above the nearby corral fence. He also recognized the man instantly as one of the sullen court spectators, and Jellup's crony. The rifleman dropped the muzzle of his gun and turned.

"I guess I am something of a gun man," explained Bob later to the boys, "for I had that new revolver of mine on the 'greaser' before I knew what I was doing myself. I didn't even then realize what he was about to do. But I had the drop on him and when I figured out that he meant to put a hole in the balloon, why, I just had him right. And here he is."

Alan looked at Ned. Both boys were puzzled. A few moment's talk with Russell explained the whole situation. The balloon was ready and the relief expedition was undoubtedly now in camp awaiting them. It needed only the words and they would be off with the inquisitive reporter left safely behind. And yet the word did not come. Ned and Alan stood looking at Bob, and the reporter gazed in turn at the beautiful straining car. Bob's face was a study. He had now made some return to Ned for possibly saving his own life, but none of the boys was thinking of that. In Bob's fine young face was the longing of a child. In Ned's and Alan's faces were the traces of boyish sympathy.

The young aeronauts were very close to each other and all were silent. Then Alan turned slowly to Ned and with a little quaver in his voice whispered, "Shall we?"

Ned made no answer. A smile lit up his face and he sprang down the little ladder into the engine cabin followed by his chum. Almost instantly the trap door in the floor of the car dropped down. A moment later three fifty-pound sacks of ballast tumbled through the door to the ground beneath. The bag tugged and strained as Ned reappeared above.

"Hurry up, Bob, if you're going with us," he said quietly, leaning over the net of the bridge, "and close the door as you come up."

Bob hesitated, as if he had not heard aright, but then he understood, and with tears in his eyes be sprang forward. There was a jar and Ned knew the new passenger was aboard.

"All ready?" he called sharply from the bridge.

"Aye, aye, captain," came in a choking but jubilant voice from the inside of the cabin.

"Stand by, everybody," sharply ordered Ned. And then, as Bob's shoulders appeared through the hatchway, the commander of the air ship gave a final look about.

"Let go all," he cried sharply. "Everybody!"

For a moment only one clinging workman careened the buoyant craft and then, straight up, the Cibola bounded like a rubber ball.

"Good-bye, all," came from Ned, cap in hand, as he leaned from the bridge.

There were cheers from below and the Cibola was at last free and afloat.

"Sit down here and keep quiet," sharply ordered Ned as Bob crawled out on deck. Then the commander of the balloon disappeared below.

There were almost immediately several sharp, muffled explosions, and then the white propeller began to turn. The balloon was drifting quickly toward the northwest and rising—Bob could see its shadow following on the sandy plain. Then the arms of the propeller turned faster and faster and a velvet whirr in the cabin showed that the engine was falling to work. As the propeller blades settled into a steady hum the vibration of the car indicated increased speed. This Bob could also detect from the more swiftly flying shadow.

The shadow was also growing smaller, and this meant that the Cibola was still ascending. Now the shadow paused and turned. Alan had thrown the rudder over and the balloon had responded instantly. The aeroplane arms stretched out horizontally on each side of the car. Ned, reappearing, took a quick look at the altitude gauge and again disappeared. The aeroplane arms dipped in front almost forty-five degrees and the current, blown back by the propeller, struck them with a jar. The craft again responded and slowly took a downward slant.

Propeller, rudder and aeroplane being at work, Ned again appeared.

"Go below," he ordered sharply, "and bear a hand when needed."

Bob did so. Alan was on the pilot platform with his hands on the wheel controlling the rudder wires. His eyes were fixed straight ahead.

"See that lever," he said, jerking his head to the left.

Bob quickly discovered the aeroplane guider control and sprang to it.

"Wait for orders," added Alan.



CHAPTER XIX

THE FIRST FLIGHT

The balloon was still sliding downwards and swiftly forward. For several minutes the three boys stood in silence. Only the steady whirr of the engine and a musical humming of vibrating wires could be heard. Bob wondered if they were headed earthward again, for he could see the approaching foothills widening out beneath. At last, when they could not have been over five hundred feet from the ground, came the quick order:

"Right the planes."

Bob was almost caught napping, for he was busy looking through the window. But his hands responded instantly, and he almost choked with chagrin to find that he had started to throw the lever the wrong way. But his recovery of himself was instant and with a desperate pull he forced the guiding planes back horizontally. The glide downward stopped and the Cibola shot forward with renewed speed.

On the bridge Ned held a fluttering chart before him.

"How is she heading?" he called to Pilot Alan at the wheel. With a glance at the compass before him Alan promptly responded:

"Nor'nor'east."

"Make it north by east."

A quick slight movement and a strain told that the alteration had been made.

"North by east it is," sang out Alan.

"Keep her there," was the echoing response.

Bob was thrilled. Every word was to him a joy. Everything had happened so quickly that he hardly knew what it all meant, but he was happy. Even the sudden discipline pleased him and he was glad to be a part of it. The knowledge that a younger boy was giving him orders did not bother him. He had skill in his own line, but he saw and realized that in the Cibola Ned Napier was in charge and meant business.

For some time then no word was heard. The Cibola, speeding, swiftly onward, had crossed the low foothills and was pulling herself through the almost breezeless air like a modern liner, five hundred feet above the ground. She was holding her course beautifully. Then Ned appeared and tested the gas exhaust and oil feed of the engine.

"Were you ever in a balloon before?" he said when he had finished, turning sharply towards Bob.

"Never," answered Bob, glad enough for a chance to say something.

"Have you any matches?" somewhat sternly asked the commander of the Cibola.

"Sure," replied Bob reaching in his pocket and finding one.

"Any more? All of them."

Surprised, Bob searched his clothes and discovered a few more which he obediently handed over to his superior officer. Noting the look of surprise in the reporter's face Ned laughed.

"The first rule in a balloon is 'No fire.' But beginners forget, sometimes; we can't take this chance with you."

"Take anything I have got," answered Bob with his old smile, which had now been in eclipse for some time, "and if I can speak at last I want to say that you boys are white, clean white, through and through. Didn't you need that ballast?"

"We may need it badly," said Ned, laughing. "If it should become necessary I suppose you won't mind if we throw you overboard."

"No," retorted Bob, "not if it is a little at, a time. But you're bricks—both of you—if I thank you I'll cry." The tears were again in his eyes.

"Well, it wasn't the thing to do, I suppose," said Ned turning away, "but you looked so hungry to go, and I knew what it meant. So I thought we'd just give you a little ride up to the camp."

"Yes, of course," answered Bob slowly as his hopes fell. "Put me out wherever you like," he added.

"You can go up now and have a look around," said Ned at last, "both of you. I'll take the wheel."

The relieved boys scrambled onto the bridge deck. Night was coming on and the mountains to the west were already black. Evening shadows were lengthening on the sloping plains beneath and a gentle, rising breeze flapped the flag and pennant and swayed the bag above them. Beneath, the Chusco wound its half dry course and off to the east a blue haze, melting into the unending sand, told of a treeless and waterless waste.

"And there," exclaimed Alan at last, pointing off to the northwest where snow-capped, ragged peaks rose out of a black jumble of mountains, "are the Tunit Chas and the land of our dreams. To-morrow—"

"One moment," interrupted Bob quickly. "I think you are forgetting. That is your secret and not mine."

Alan flushed. "I forgot," he said with a stammer, "and I thank you."

"I can't afford to make you sorry you brought me," added Bob, "and you are not going to be."

There was a little jar. The propeller slackened a trifle, and Alan explained that Ned had headed the Cibola another point into the freshening breeze.

"Steward," said Ned from below, "it's seven o'clock and I'm hungry. Besides, it's getting pretty dark down here."

Alan and Bob looked at each other and laughed.

"That certainly means me," exclaimed Bob, and both boys clambered below. With Alan's help Bob made his first examination of the store room.

The meal was rather haphazard, as the boys, carried away by the excitement of their new flight, had neglected to eat when it was light. But water and hardtack were easily accessible, and Alan, taking the first two cans at hand, found happily that they contained sardines and veal loaf.

"We'll eat on deck," suggested Ned, as he set the wheel and had another look at the engine, which had not missed a revolution.

The night that greeted them was magnificent. The moon was not yet up, but the stars were scintillating in the inky sky and the deep silence of the clouds and desert was about them. Bob gazed as if spellbound. The charm of the night appealed to him as it did to Ned and Alan; but with it his brain formed phrases—"cloudland by night," "a dash to the stars." The reporter in him was thinking "copy."

"Hey, there, wake up!" cried practical Ned.

Bob flew to his task; with a turn he had the veal loaf can open and had dumped its contents in the wooden plate held by Alan.

In another moment he would have thrown the empty can overboard but the watchful Ned, ready for another lesson in aeronautics, caught his hand.

"Don't you like the route we are taking?" laughed Ned.

Bob's face showed he did not understand.

"The loss of the weight of that can might send us sparing upward a thousand feet," explained Ned dryly, "so don't cast over ballast until you get orders."

Bob shook his head. "Well doesn't that beat all," he exclaimed.

As night fell and the air grew heavier, the barometer showed that the Cibola had a tendency to rise. The aeroplanes were readjusted and then for an hour the craft sped on untouched. At eight o'clock Ned said:

"We haven't traveled over eighteen miles in an hour and we've been afloat four hours. If we are still over the Chusco and Elmer and Buck are at the appointed place we may be within ten or twelve miles of them."

"They are going to burn three small camp fires set in a triangle, you remember," remarked Bob.

"Therefore," suggested. Ned, "all keep a sharp lookout."

At half past eight Ned showed some concern. No lights had been sighted and the reckoning showed that they must be within two or three miles of the probable location of the camp. Another fifteen minutes went by, and yet no signal fires were seen. They had now passed over the junction of the two rivers, if their calculations were right, and Ned and Alan were in a quandary.

"It's no use to go on," commented Ned; "so we'll just make a wide circle and see what we can find."

It was also useless to look below. In the darkness there was no sight of either river or desert.

"It we don't pick them up in that way," continued Ned, "we'll descend and tie up for the night."

Both Ned and Alan went below, and with the engine shut down to half speed the Cibola was turned on her course in a wide sweep. Bob alone watched with anxious eyes, until he was joined in a short time by Ned. There was no sound but the soft chug-chug of the engine, and for some time neither spoke. The breeze of the early evening had died and there was not a breath of air. Alan in the dark cabin below held the wheel and Ned and Bob alone, hanging over the side net, watched and listened in vain.



CHAPTER XX

FIGHTING INDIANS WITH A SEARCHLIGHT

"Stop her!" It was Ned's voice in quick command. The young aeronaut, peering over the side of the car of the Cibola into the black night, had suddenly seen something that prompted the order. It was a distant flash of light. This was followed by an echoing explosion. The other boys heard the explosion and all instantly knew that it was a shot from a firearm. Almost before Alan could shut off the power Ned had disappeared into the cabin to help head the balloon in the direction of the spurt of fire. The Cibola slackened speed and they waited, drifting slowly toward the east. Then, suddenly, and almost together came two streaks of fire and two more explosions.

"One of them might mean a signal," said Ned gravely, "but they were not from the same spot. If it were Elmer he would have the three fires. If it is Elmer and Buck and they can't make a fire and are shooting I am afraid it means trouble."

"It may mean Indians," suggested Bob, "and they may have put out their fires for safety."

"They might even be holding off an attack of some kind," added Alan anxiously.

Just then there was another crack of a firearm now a little nearer. The Cibola was drifting directly toward the sound, but very slowly, and would soon have lost all headway.

"I don't want to be presumptuous," said Bob in a low voice, "but can't we land and find out what the trouble is?"

"We can find out without landing," replied Alan.

It was so dark in the cabin that the boys could only dimly see each other, but Ned was groping about near the silent engine. In a moment he had secured from the ammunition case a storage electric light, and cautiously shading the lens with his cap he asked Bob to hold it. Then he turned to his chum.

"I didn't know just how we would use our little drop light," he began; "but it seems that the idea wasn't half bad. There is a tribe of Indians not far from here that would steal a horse or cut a man's throat quickly enough—the renegade or Southern Utes." As he spoke he was digging in a chest extracting various small parcels. "Not even the other Indians have any use for the Utes. And there is only one thing to do. We must first find out if our friends are below."

With the help of the flashlight Bob could we that Ned held in his hand a large, high candle-power incandescent bulb and was adjusting it in a silver reflector.

"With an electric light?" exclaimed Bob.

"Why not?" replied Ned. "And the help of our little dynamo."

Ned took the flashlight, held it under his coat, and crawled around in front of the silent engine. "It's here," he explained for Bob's benefit, "and I am just throwing the gear onto the propeller shaft."

"Well, if you are afraid to show this little light why aren't you afraid to show a brighter light?" asked the observing reporter.

Alan answered him.

"We are only afraid because it might draw an attack from some observer. Balloonists are never safe from meddlesome persons or worse. But there isn't the same danger if the light isn't on the balloon."

"Sure," said Bob. "I understand that. But you can't hold it very far away."

"No," answered Ned, "that's why we braided two good copper wires in our drag rope." As he said this he opened the trap door in the floor of the cabin and feeling about in the dark soon had hold of the coiled drag.

"I guess I'm dull," began Bob.

"No," interrupted Alan, "only you haven't given two or three years to figuring out the possibilities of an air ship."

Ned was attaching the bulb, reflector down, to the end of the rope.

"That rope is three hundred feet long. A light at the end of it is quite a way from our bag.

"Oh, I see," exclaimed Bob at last. "If we find Indians and they shoot at our searchlight they are pretty sure to miss us."

"That is the theory," answered Ned.

And then the plan in Ned's mind was explained. The engine was to be started at quarter speed, which meant that the sound would be imperceptible; and, lying on the floor of the cabin, Ned was to direct the movements of the ship, with Alan at the rudder wheel and Bob at the aeroplane guider.

"A quarter to ten o'clock," said Ned glancing at his watch as he shut off the concealed flashlight, "and now start her up."

As Alan started the engine and it began to turn the propeller they could tell by the light breeze that the car was moving again, but very slowly. The other boys could also hear Ned delicately paying out the long drag rope. At last it was all out. Then Ned crawled forward again to the dynamo and up to the partly open floor of the car and whispered that he was ready. The multiple gear was already speeding the little generator swiftly.

"Lie down on the floor and watch," murmured Ned softly, "I'm going to turn her on."

Alan and Bob did so. As their two heads filled the open trap in the cabin floor there was a click and then, as if some necromancy had focused the sun on a part of the darkened world, a circle of light seemed to spring out of the desert beneath. Yellow, with here and there a ragged rock and a sage brush or two, the shadows of the rocks and brush black like spilled ink, and the sand glaring back at them with almost quivering brightness, the circle shot back and forth as the light followed the swinging rope. But no living thing was in sight. A click and all was black again.

"Nothing doing," exclaimed Bob.

"Wait," suggested Ned, "persons we couldn't see may have seen them."

Almost as he spoke there was another quick report.

"Did you see the flash, Alan?" asked Ned eagerly, for he had been busy with the dynamo.

But Alan was already at the wheel, and again the car swung from its course.

"Wait," he exclaimed, "turn it on again when I give the word."

After perhaps two minutes he gave the signal and again Ned flashed the gleaming bulb. Again the circle sprang apparently out of the black ground. As the car drifted forward the black blotched golden sand ran the opposite way like a whirling panorama. A coyote sprang, dazed, from a clump of bushes and back again, but that was all.

"Give him another chance," whispered Alan, and the light flashed out.

"Listen," exclaimed Bob breathlessly, "wasn't that a cry?"

Another moment and the sound came again.

"Elmer!" exclaimed the two air ship boys together.

The Cibola swung instantly at Alan's quick touch. Again the light flashed. Sand and rock and brush. The brilliant circle of light shot here and there, but the anxious watchers saw sign of neither friend nor foe. Then like a flash the level plain dropped into the sudden slope of a coulee and the darker shadow of water blotted out the glare of sand.

"The river," whispered Ned. "Now watch sharp."

As the light was blotted out this time Alan swung the wheel again. He knew instantly that they were on the wrong track, as they were going east and crossing the Chusco. Elmer and Buck would not cross the river. The camp was to be on the west side.

"Follow the river," ordered Ned quickly; "the west shore."

In order that the Cibola might be laid on the new course Ned threw on the light switch again. As he did so and the light flashed there was the sharp crack of a rifle and the light was gone.

"Turn her on," exclaimed Alan; "I want to get a line on the river bed."

Ned laughed. "I'll need a new bulb first. Some one down below turned it off."

"What?" exclaimed the other boys together.

"Shot out," calmly retorted Ned.



CHAPTER XXI

A CORDITE BOMB AND ITS WORK

In a moment the boys were hauling in the rope and Ned was back in the cabin after a new bulb which he secured and attached in the dark.

"Now give her a swing," he said as Bob again lowered the rope. "It will make it harder to hit."

When Bob announced that all the rope was paid out Ned snapped the switch again. In spite of the gravity of the situation all the boys were tempted to laugh. A brilliant green glow shot down. An emerald circle of light flooded the ground beneath.

"If anyone sees that they'll sure think it's a drug store," suggested Bob.

"'Or a sign of the Great Spirit, perhaps," added Ned soberly, "it may help us in more ways than one, if Indians are—"

"Look," hoarsely shouted Alan, "there, over there!"

But his words were superfluous. The three boys saw the same thing. And then as the wide swaying of the bulb swept the gnome-like picture in green from view Ned threw himself over and shut off the engine.

Not a hundred feet beneath the brilliant bulb the precipitous bank of the river had again shot into the circle of light. At the very edge of the cliff stood the big freight wagon. Behind it, between the wagon and the steep river bank, stood two horses. At one end two more lay prostrate on the ground. In front a light barrier of boxes and barrels rose a few feet from the ground. And there, a rifle at his shoulder, knelt Elmer Grissom, their friend and servant. Buck was nowhere in sight.

Their worst fears were realized.

As the dramatic picture flashed from view each boy knew that it was time to act.

"What's to be done?" exclaimed Alan, his voice choking.

"There can't be many of them," answered Ned finally, as if thinking, "or they would pushed their attack. If we could locate them the rest would be easy. Let Bob take the wheel and try to get over the wagon again; I have an idea."

The Cibola again answered the rudder and circled, Ned flashing the bulb until the river came beneath them. This required but a few moments, but, before the craft had gathered momentum on the way back, there were four shots almost together about three hundred yards to the right of where they supposed the wagon stood, and a quick reply from the river bank.

"Our light did it," exclaimed Alan, "they are rushing the barricade."

"Indians don't rush together, if it is Indians," replied Ned. "Keep on up the bank, Bob. It's risky for Elmer," he added with a husky voice, "but we've got to take chances."

Again the light flashed. Ned and Alan hurried to the bridge.

Within its circle and almost together, sealing the seamed and hard bank of the river, were five dark figures. As the powerful light encircled them the crouching figures sprang backwards. But they were not quicker than the alert and prepared Ned Napier. A small round object shot downward from his hands. The glare of flame as the missile struck true and the thunderous roar that hurled the big bag of the Cibola sideways told that the cordite bomb had done its work well.

Bob was speechless. Ned and Alan were already in hurried consultation. They could not count on fortunately finding the other besiegers all together, "'and there are at least four more," said Ned. The rescue of the lone besieged lad was not an easy problem. The boys believed themselves now just above the wagon again, but they were afraid to draw possible fire to the barricade by showing another light.

The hurling of the bomb overboard had shot the Cibola heavenward like a bird. Before they realized it the aeronauts had mounted up at least two thousand feet. They then began maneuvering to regain their position. But this was not so easy. A flash of the suspended searchlight gave them not a trace of their bearings and it was plainly apparent they would have to use time and patience in recovering the location of the besieged wagon. Using their best judgment, they put the aeroplanes to work, and, circling slowly, the Cibola gradually came nearer and nearer to the ground. After ten minutes or more the car gave a sharp bound upward.

"The drag has touched the ground," exclaimed Ned.

The aeroplanes were righted, the engine was stopped, and again the balloon was drifting. There was not a sound to guide the aeronauts. The contact with the ground had broken the bulb and it was not replaced. For aught the rescuers knew they might be again directly over the wagon. Not a shot had been fired since the roar of the explosion, but there was no reason to believe that the yet living besiegers had withdrawn.

"More likely planning a final attack," suggested Alan.

Again a council was held.

"We've got to take the risk," said Ned at last in desperation; "we can't do anything up here."

And then, with Alan's approval, the propeller was set turning again, but so slowly that the big balloon was just moving under control. The aeroplanes were also set to bring the craft nearer the ground and, as a precaution, Bob was sent onto the bridge with an open knife to cut away ballast if sudden ascent were needed. The drag rope had been brought in. There were no means of knowing how near the car might be to the earth and the suspense was decidedly trying.

"I guess I can come a little nearer finding out," exclaimed Ned finally to the others in a whisper.

Alan did not know what he meant, but he resumed his place at the wheel. Ned had disappeared in the dark.

"Where are you, Ned?" asked Alan anxiously at last.

The answer came from beneath the car.

"Only down here, but I'm going lower," Ned replied, again in a whisper. "Be ready with that ballast."

A perspiration of fear broke out on Alan's body. He sprang to the open trap door.

Just discernible in the darkness was Ned's slowly retreating form.

He was climbing down the twenty-five-foot rope landing ladder with only his own strong grip and the spruce rungs to save him from death.

There was nothing to be said or done. Bob did not know what was going on below, but he knew that he had a task set for him, and in the long silence that followed while the Cibola settled lower and lower and drifted on and on in the dark he stood, knife in hand, at the ballast bags.



CHAPTER XXII

A THRILLING RESCUE IN MID-AIR

Buck, the guide, and Elmer Grissom had reached their appointed rendezvous at two o'clock that afternoon. The hot journey had been tedious and uneventful. Only at the half-breed settlement twenty miles north of Clarkeville had they seen a human being. Therefore, after they had been in camp about an hour, even the vigilant, experienced Buck was startled to observe suddenly a solitary Indian—his horse as statuesque as himself—watching them from a knoll some two hundred yards distant.

As the old scout raised both hands in signal of peace the Indian rode forward. The man was not in the Indian panoply of the old days, except that he wore moccasins and had two bands of red and yellow paint on his broad, dark face. A black wide-brimmed hat, a faded blue shirt and trousers completed his outfit.

"How?" exclaimed the Indian.

"Navajo?" answered Buck.

"Ute!" came the answer. "Where go?"

"Right here," said Buck good-naturedly, pointing to the ground.

"Ute land!" retorted the Indian without a trace of expression in his face.

"No," retorted Buck sharply, "not Ute land. Ute land there," pointing north, "in Colorado."

"Ute land!" exclaimed the red man again, this time scowling.

Buck only shook his head.

Then the Indian suddenly threw himself from his horse, strode to the wagon and threw up the tail curtain. Safely stored therein he saw the protected tins of gasoline.

"Whisky?" he exclaimed.

"No," laughed Elmer, "not whisky."

"Whisky," repeated the stranger turning towards Buck; "drink!"

But Buck shook his head.

With out another word the Ute walked haughtily to his horse, threw himself upon it, and, clasping his heels to its sides, rode quickly away.

"I'm sorry," exclaimed the veteran at last.

"I had no idea that there were Utes around here."'

"He doesn't seem dangerous," commented Elmer.

"No," answered Buck, "men who'd cut your throat for a horse never do. The chances are he isn't alone."

Elmer looked up in surprise.

"We'll just make sure," exclaimed Buck, making as light of the affair as possible. "I don't want to lose my horses and you don't want to lose your freight. We'll make ourselves ready in case our friends come back to make us a little visit."

And as night came on and Elmer helped Buck draw the wagon close to the river bank, where approach from the rear would be difficult, the boy began to realize what it meant to get away from the telegraph and policemen and law and order. And when the experienced scout unloaded a portion of their heavier freight and began to build a small barrier Elmer's usual joviality cooled into silence. The three piles of brush and driftwood from the river were laid out some distance in front of the camp in preparation for the agreed signal fires and then, before the sun went down, the scout and his companion made their camp fire and had supper.