Air Ship Boys : Or, the Quest of the Aztec Treasure

by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER V

  A DINNER PARTY ON THE PLACIDA

  The long, heavy, limited train on which the young air ship boys wereat last embarked on their extraordinary mission pulled slowly out ofthe station.

  Ned made a quick survey of the Placida. Coming out of the baggageend he passed first into a drawing room. In this were two sectionsthat opened up into four berths. Beyond the berths a passageway ledto a private stateroom. When the boys reached the stateroom, Elmerwas standing at the door with a happy smile on his face.

  "Fo' de captain," exclaimed the colored boy.

  "Where are you to bunk, Alan?" Ned asked, quickly.

  "Oh, the crew is in the main room."

  "Not much," exclaimed Ned. "We're partners in this enterprise. Idon't have any better than the rest."

  And in another moment he had dropped his valise alongside Alan'sberth.

  "We'll keep the little room for consultations," he said with alaugh, "when we don't want Elmer to hear us talking about theIndians."

  The colored lad grunted.

  "Can't scare me wif no Injun talk," he said. "I specs I ain't halfso 'fraid o' Injuns as I is o' dat stuff in de black box."

  "And it's time to attend to the 'stuff,'" interrupted Ned.

  They returned to the baggage room.

  "Now," Ned began, "the door to this car must be kept locked exceptwhen the train crew are compelled to come through. We, in turn,must be careful about fire and lights. But, for fear of accident, Ihave taken some precautions."

  Alan and Elmer then saw that the top of the case was fitted with alid the edges of which were bound with rubber. In the center of thecovering was a short spout.

  "What's the use of an air and gas proof top with a hole in it?"asked Alan, inspecting it curiously.

  "Maybe dat's to let de air in and de lid's to keep de hydrogum fromgettin' out," volunteered the colored boy.

  Ned was too busy to answer the one or to laugh at the other. He hadunlocked the lid and thrown it back. About six inches beneath thetop of the case stood eight iron boxes--two rows with four boxes ineach. These boxes, six inches square, were each about three feet inheight and in each could be seen the neck of a glass vessel.Securely packed in their iron jackets to prevent breaking, stood theglass receptacles, open-mouthed and apparently empty. But downbelow the shadowed rims were soft clouds of gaseous vapor, beneathwhich reposed the precious contents that had cost Ned over athousand dollars--the liquid hydrogen.

  On top of the square iron buckets was coiled eight or ten feet ofrubber hose. Taking it out Ned closed and locked the lid. He thenscrewed one end of the hose onto the open spout and, springing tothe top of the case, passed the other end out of the openventilator.

  "Now," Ned explained, "we are in less danger. Difficult as it is tocondense hydrogen, it is more difficult to keep it in liquid form.It constantly seeks to return to gas. In a closed place it mightmake trouble."

  Elmer had already disappeared, with popping eyes and mumbles ofprotest. Alan proudly exhibited to his friend the results of hisshare of the work of preparation. Every crate, box, barrel andpackage was numbered and labeled and securely fastened in place.

  On one side of the car stood five large oak tanks, looking like thefamous beer tuns of Germany.

  "I can make more hydrogen in those than you've got in your blackbox," Alan exclaimed jokingly.

  "I'll have a better look at them in the daylight," finally said Ned;"and now those easy chairs in the other car would feel pretty good."

  "Aren't sleepy, are you?" asked Alan, forgetting that his chum hadnot slept the night before.

  "No," said Ned, "only happy. But I'd be happier if I had had timeto get a good hot supper."

  "All ready, sah, in de stateroom," announced Elmer's cheerful voice.

  Both boys turned--Ned in surprise.

  "Supper's all ready, sah!" continued the colored boy, "and waitingfo' you all."

  In the stateroom was a sight to arouse a sleepy boy and to delight ahungry one. In the middle of a small table was a bunch of pinkroses. On either side, in a dish of cracked ice, was the half of aluscious cantaloupe. Silver knives, forks and spoons, sparklingglass-ware and snowy napkins at once revealed the resources of thePlacida's pantry.

  "Well, I'll be jiggered!" exclaimed Ned.

  "Pretty nifty, eh?" laughed Alan.

  "Well, if this isn't the last straw!" exclaimed Ned as they seatedthemselves. "But I want to thank you both. I didn't know howhungry I really was--"

  He was about to plunge a spoon into the fragrant, cool melon when hesaw a folded note by his plate. Opening it he read:

  "Dear Ned: Good luck and good voyage. The roses are from my owngarden. Bring me a turquoise ring. MARY HOPE."

  It was from Alan's sister.

  "Shall we do it, Alan?" he cried.

  "Shall we?" answered Alan wringing his chum's hand. "We'll do itor--"

  "Is you all ready for dis?" asked the young chef suddenly appearingwith a smoking broiled steak. "It can't wait no longer."

  And it did not have to.

  An hour later the two happy boys sat on either side of the table inthe drawing room of their car.

  "Are you getting nervous?" began Alan.

  "About what?" asked Ned.

  "Oh, about everything. The responsibility for this car and thesetting up of your balloon, and the trip itself."

  "Are you?" exclaimed Ned.

  "My, no, I'm not. But then I'm not the captain. But I thought youmight be."

  "Aren't we getting along all right?"

  "Perhaps too well," Alan answered.

  "Never talk that way," interrupted Ned decisively. "Everything ishappening as it does because we planned it just that way. Thingscan't go too well. That is a foolish idea. The good fortune ofcareful preparation should only confirm your judgment."

  This was the sort of advice Alan had to take now and then from hisfriend; but it always did him good.

  "Then you don't believe in good luck?" rather sheepishly suggestedAlan.

  "I believe in it, yes," replied Ned, "if it comes--and I never putit aside. But I never count on it."

  Sleep seemed to have fled from Ned's eyes. Although Alan suggestedthat it might be well to turn in early and be up early, Ned insistedon seeing Major Honeywell's chart of the country they were toexplore, saying that he had another night on the journey in which hecould sleep.

  The chart was really only a rough pencil sketch. The instructionswere more in detail.

  "This country, now a portion of the reservation of the Navajo andSouthern Ute Indians, is a wilderness," Major Honeywell wrote."White men do not visit it because the Indians will not permit them.Mining prospectors who have tried to do so have been murdered."

  "Cheerful, isn't it?" interrupted Alan.

  "This jumble of mountains has no connection with our two greatwestern mountain ranges. The towering plateaus, cut with yawningcanyons, are plainly the result of some special volcanic action.This unknown region extends over a hundred miles northwest andsoutheast, and on all sides drops suddenly into the sandy deserts.At Clarkeville the desert begins at once. If you will start alittle east of north and locate the Indian village of Toliatchi,twenty miles away, you will be on the Arroyo Chusco. Although thebed of this stream may be dry it can be traced northward sixty-fivemiles, where it unites with the Amarilla, eighty-five miles fromClarkeville. At the juncture of these water courses, if you facewest, the roughest part of the Tunit Chas will confront you. Atyour right will be Wilson's Peak. That portion of the Tunit Chas tothe southwest forms the Lu-ka-ch-ka mountains. To the northeast liethe Charriscos. Somewhere in these mountains lie the temple and thetreasures we seek."