CHAPTER IX.
THE MIDNIGHT BELL.
It required considerable persuasion on the part of Frank and Harry toinduce Mr. Chester to allow them to undertake a trip which, to say theleast, was hazardous. After a long talk, however, it was agreed that theboys were to be allowed to go providing that if they did not returnwithin the next three days they were to use every effort to notify theirfather of their whereabouts.
All opposition being overcome, the boys, after a hearty meal, made achange into light woolen shirts, khaki trousers and rubber-soled canvasshoes. Soft felt hats of the army type completed their attire, and whenthey had each buckled on a belt to which were strapped magazinerevolvers and slung field-glasses and water-padded canteens over theirshoulders they were practically ready for their bold dash.
Frank at once made a hasty survey of the ground surrounding thepalm-thatched aerodrome and decided that with a little clearing the_Golden Eagle_ could be started without any difficulty if no wind gotup. A force of men was at once put to work with machetes and long beforenoon a “runway” of five hundred yards leading downhill had beencleared,—Frank calculating that this would be sufficient to allow theaeroplane to lift and clear the taller banana bushes. The gasolene forthe sixty-gallon tank had been shipped from Greytown at the time thatFrank and Harry tuned up the _Golden Eagle’s_ engine, and besidesfilling the tank to its capacity they loaded their craft up with severalfive-gallon cans for a reserve supply. A stock of the best cylinder oiland grease for the “screw-up” grease cups that lubricated the crankshafts completed the engine outfit.
The boys calculated on using a pint per horsepower an hour of fuel whenthe _Golden Eagle’s_ engine was running at its greatest number ofrevolutions per minute. As they did not intend to turn up more than 800revolutions—or R.P.M., as aviators call it—they calculated on aconsiderable saving of fuel unless some emergency arose.
While the runway was being cleared, several of the native workmen hadbeen at work, under the boys’ direction, hauling away the ballast sackswith which the _Golden Eagle_ had been weighed down at the time of herengine test. Harry had also produced a brand-new ensign which he ran upon halyards rigged to a stern stanchion, while his brother and fathergave three hearty cheers for the fluttering Stars and Stripes.
The last thing the boys did before their final farewells was to tuck amap of the country over which they were to travel in a corner pocket ofthe pilot-house, and also load up a waterproof silk tent and an axe,shovel and pick.
“It’s always as well to be prepared for everything,” Frank remarked whenhis father questioned him about the utility of these last articles. “Wedon’t know but we may have to dig for water or—or anything in fact inwhich these tools will come in mighty handy.”
Mr. Chester nodded admiringly at his son’s foresight.
“That’s right, my boy,” he assented, “be ready for everything and youcan’t go far wrong.”
“Now,” declared Frank, after the boys had gone over every stay-wire,stanchion and brace on the machine, and the engine had been carefullywiped and the brass parts polished, “the Chester expedition is ready toget underway!”
Harry hopped nimbly into the pilot-house and took up his seat at therear of the chassis. His job was that of engineer. Captain Frankfollowed him a second later and with his hand on the guide wheel towhich the controls were connected gave a comprehensive look over theaeroplane.
“What would the Junior Aero boys do if they could see us now?” Harryhailed from his seat, looking up from his adjusting of the grease cups.
“What wouldn’t any of them give to be going along?” responded Frank.
It had been arranged that the _Golden Eagle_ was to be headed toward thenorthwest where, like a blue cloud, the Cordillera range loomed againstthe sky. Somewhere over in that little known part of the country Rogeroand his men were marching toward the coast and—the thought thrilled inboth the boys’ minds, though neither spoke of it—it was over there, too,somewhere in those dim blue mountains, that the lost mines of theToltecs lay and the little known relics of that ancient civilization.
There was a final handshake between the boys and their father and ashouted good-bye to Jimmie Blakely.
“All right astern, Harry?” hailed Frank.
“Ay, ay, sir,” responded his brother.
Harry threw in the switch, having opened the valve that connected theengine with the gasolene tank a few minutes before. At the same instantFrank started the engine. There was an involuntary cheer from the handswho had clustered around the machine but at a respectful distance,recollecting their disconcerting experience at the time that Franktested the engine.
With her fifty horsepower whirring round her propellers at eight hundredrevolutions a minute, the _Golden Eagle_ began to move. Faster andfaster she glided over the ground till after a run of about two hundredyards her forward end lifted and she shot upward into the air as Frank’strained hand had directed the upward gliding planes. The engine wasgoing at its work with a will and the rhythmical purr, so sweet to theear of the operator of an aeroplane, showed that there wasn’t going tobe any balk out of it on this trip.
The watchers below saw the _Golden Eagle_, like a great yellow bird,leave the ground for the upper air in absolute silence. It was such animpressive sight that even the usually voluble natives failed to makeany demonstration. At a height of about two hundred feet Frank pulledthe control tiller hard over and the _Golden Eagle_ swung round slightlyon an almost even keel from the eastward course she was on and headedaway to the northwest. The last the group at La Merced saw of her shewas a dull bronze speck against the brilliant blue sky, heading steadilyfor the mountains at a height of about six hundred feet.
It had been arranged between the boys that they should keep going tilldusk and then alight in some suitable place and make camp for the night.That they were running great and grave risks they well knew, but neitherof them was of the caliber that talks much of such things and so as theyforged steadily for the hills with the exhaust throbbing as evenly as ahealthy pulse, their conversation was mainly about the course theyshould adopt to save Billy Barnes if he had actually fallen intoRogero’s hands.
That there would have to be quick action neither boy doubted. Rogero wasnot the man to stop at half measures, and that Billy would be shot ortortured after a drumhead court-martial; or, perhaps, with even not thatattempt at legal formality, was practically certain.
As he sat at the wheel, Frank, from time to time, called Harry to takehis place at the duplicate tiller wheel while he with the field glassesswept the earth below for any sign of any camp. The portion of Nicaraguaover which the _Golden Eagle_ was soaring is very sparsely inhabited.With the exception of an occasional river bank camp of wanderingrubber-cutters, there is little human life.
“What are we making, should you judge, Frank?” asked Harry, when theyhad been underway about an hour with only the monotonous dull-greenjungle, like a leafy carpet beneath them.
“Easily twenty,” replied Frank, “throttled down as we are.”
“Has it occurred to you that we are going to find some difficulty insecuring a suitable landing-place?”
“I’ve been thinking of that,” replied the elder boy, “it is of courseimpossible to make a landing anywhere here, and I can’t for the life ofme, see any break in the jungle in the direction we are headed.”
“No,” replied Harry, eagerly, “but have you noticed those hills? As weget nearer to them I can see through the glasses that there seem to berocky plateaus on their upper ridges that would just about suit us for asettling-down place.”
“What do you propose then?” asked Frank.
“I was thinking that it would be a good idea to speed up a bit so as toreach the mountains by dark and make camp there till we can scout abouta little and get Rogero’s bearings.”
“That’s a good idea,” replied Frank, “I’ve been thinking anyway that wewould do Billy more harm
than good if Rogero knew that we were flying tohis rescue. Our best plan is to pitch our tent there in the hills on oneof the plateaus and work from that point as our headquarters. There’sthe question of gasolene, too, we don’t want to run out of that and theless needless flying we do the better say I.”
“How far do you suppose those hills are from us now?” asked Harry.
Frank consulted his map.
“Not more than fifty miles at the outside. We can make them easily bysundown if we speed her up,” he announced. As he spoke he increased thevelocity of the engine till it was running almost at its revolutioncapacity. Under the increased impetus the _Golden Eagle_ drove forward agood ten miles an hour faster.
As the hills grew nearer both boys eagerly focussed their glasses onthem. At a distance the range had not looked to be a very considerablemountain formation, but on a closer approach the boys were astonished tosee that they were a formidable chain of hills, slashed and cut intoevery direction by deep canyons, between which there were several broadplateaus almost entirely unwooded. In other places giant trees clothedthe hills almost to their summits.
“One of those bare plateaus will make an ideal landing-place,” saidFrank, as the _Golden Eagle_ swung steadily forward toward her decideddestination. “The big trees will screen us from the view of anyoneexcept an airship scout and I don’t think that there will be muchlikelihood of our encountering one of those.”
It was twilight when Frank swung the starboard rudder over and the_Golden Eagle_ began to describe swooping circles above a plateau aboutfive hundred feet up on the mountain-side. It was a ticklish job toland, but under Frank’s skilful manipulation of the planes and ruddersthe boys’ ship settled down as gently as a tired bird toward the smoothsurface of the plateau. As she struck the ground in a little cloud ofdust, but without the slightest jar, Harry threw in the brake clutchthat controlled the settling wheels and after sliding about twenty feet,the _Golden Eagle_ came to a stop in the wildest part of the Cordillerasof Nicaragua. With a cheer both boys jumped out and excitedly assuredeach other that their adventures had really begun at last.
There was but little time that night to survey their landing-place. Bythe time the sun dropped, however, they had accomplished such good workthat the tent was up, the portable cots erected and Harry had a firelighted; while Frank had announced with a shout of triumph that he hadfound a little runnel of water oozing from the mountain-side which by alittle enlargement with the pick and shovel soon formed a pool of clear,cold water.
It was with light hearts that the boys fell to on a supper of friedbacon, coffee and bread. There was not time to cook a more elaboratemenu that night, but both declared enthusiastically that what they didhave tasted to them as good as a banquet. Supper over and a lanternlighted in the tent it was arranged that Frank should take the firstwatch, lasting till midnight, and that he should then awake Harry whowould do sentry duty till dawn. Till they learned if they had anyundesirable neighbors this was agreed to be the prudent course.
After Harry turned in Frank looked over his rifle and revolver and tookup a position by the camp-fire. He employed the early part of the nightwith pencil and pad, figuring out some aeronautical problems, but as itgrew near to his hour to be relieved he grew so sleepy that he got upand paced about to fight off his drowsiness. He had made perhaps a dozenturns up and down in front of the tent when something happened thatcaused even the usually hard-headed boy to start violently and feel aqueer sort of chill down his spine.
It was the tolling of a bell!
The hour, the loneliness of the spot all combined to augment Frank’sstartled amazement at the sound. He could hardly believe his ears. Witha beating heart he strained his attention to locate the sound. It seemedto come from a spot further up the mountain-side. Whoever thebell-ringer was he paid no attention to time or rhythm. The bell wouldtoll loud and sharp for a few minutes and then its clangor would diedown and almost cease. Then without any apparent reason it would startup again furiously. Hurriedly Frank awoke his younger brother.
“What on earth do you suppose it is? Spooks?” demanded the startledHarry.
“I don’t know, but it’s something human, and I mean to find out beforewe leave this place,” declared Frank, doggedly.
The Boy Aviators in Nicaragua; or, In League with the Insurgents Page 10