CHAPTER XIX
JUMPING A PEAK
Before Carl had an opportunity to recover himself the Indian had seizedthe golden bowl and was making off with it at top speed. It did not takethe lad long to comprehend the situation, however, and springing to hisfeet, he soon overtook the would-be thief. Wresting the prize from him,and throwing it to one side, Carl met the attack with the strength,ability and skill only found in strong young manhood. But the olderIndian was fully a match for him, and the struggle promised to be a longand hard one if Carl were left to fight it alone.
The struggle promised to be a long and hard one if Carlwere left to fight it alone. But this the other boys did not propose toallow, and they immediately began to cross on the rope ladder.]
This the other boys did not propose should be the case. Forgetting allfear for themselves in the face of Carl's danger, they immediatelyprepared to utilize the rope ladder, crossing even more quickly thanCarl had done and surely with less caution, for their only thought wasto come to the rescue of their friend.
Carl's assailant, whose every energy was strained to gain an advantage,did not hear their approach. Before he realized it he found himselfhelpless in the hands of the strong palefaces, his hands tied behind hisback, a threatening Remington, in the hands of Jerry, pointed meaninglyin his direction. He was very much the worse for wear, his face havingbeen severely scratched across the lines of paint, and his clothesconsiderably disarranged.
"Well, what shall we do with him?" asked Dunk, turning to Carl. "Heought to be pitched over the ravine."
But the Indian boy's face wore a strange expression. His eyes were wideand staring, and he stood, pale and open-mouthed, regarding his helplessenemy.
"What's the matter!" cried Gray, alarmed.
Carl did not reply, but walked up to the captive, and, with a hand thatshook slightly, examined something that hung on a string around hisneck. Then he pulled out the charm from under his own shirt.
"Look," he said huskily.
The stones were exactly alike.
Although the older Indian betrayed no signs of surprise or emotion hebroke into an angry torrent of Apache.
Carl, stepping forward, took out his hunting knife, and cut the other'sbonds.
"Now get!" he commanded, allowing himself the pleasure of one strongpunch at the back of the conquered redskin, who lost no time in makinghis get-away.
"That's my uncle," said Carl coolly. "I'm civilized and educated, or I'dkill him. Come on, let's get back."
The others thought it best not to make any further reference to thematter, and silently followed Carl, the bowl again in his possession,across the ladder spanning the cascade. At the same time the boys in theplane, who had watched the conflict with tense anxiety, started back tothe Fort.
"Gee, I can't stand much more to-day," ejaculated Fly, as they circledthe tower for the last time.
"Strange what a lot can happen to a fellow in a short time," commentedHerb, reviewing mentally the many adventures in which they had all beeninvolved that summer.
"But most important of all," continued Fly, "we've laid the Thunder Birdlow--we've done something for your father."
"Now the next thing is for you to teach us all to aviate," laughed thesoutherner. "But I don't believe I can ever handle a machine as you do."
"Sure," exclaimed Fly. "Why you--" but he stopped short with anexclamation of horror that fairly froze his companion's blood. At thesame moment, Herb was conscious that something--he knew not what--hadhappened. The loud insistent voice of the machinery was abruptlystilled.
Looking perplexedly at Fly, he saw great drops of perspiration startingout on the young pilot's forehead. "The motor is dead," he breathed, histhroat and lips going dry.
For a moment Herb's heart seemed to stop in sympathy with the mechanismthat had failed them.
"Can't you volplane," he said giddily.
"Rocks, peaks, crags," sputtered Fly. Oh, if he were only over thesmooth meadow. But to volplane here would mean certain death. As it was,he was sliding along at a perceptibly lessening speed. Any moment themachine might balk and rear, hurling them both to destruction.
But Fly was plucky and after the first shock he recovered his nerve,bending every energy of mind and body to maintain his balance. To keephigh enough and steady enough until they left the mountains was his soleendeavor. After that, he felt confident that he could volplane withsafety into the meadow. Even now he could see this haven of invitinggreen tantalizingly near at hand--and yet so far away. Grudgingly he wasobliged to slant, else the machine would rear and wrest the control fromhim. But the slightest incline was too much now, for it meant landing onthe rocks.
Though a fever raged in his brain, he was rapidly calculating. Somewayhe must save Herb. That was his predominant thought.
"I'll do it," he suddenly exclaimed through his shut teeth, at the samemoment swooping down with such rapidity that his companion's head wasjerked violently back, and he grabbed tight hold of his seat. Confidentthat the end had come, the southerner resolutely shut his eyes andrelaxed.
But he was sitting rigid a moment later, for the aeroplane had shotupward again with a jerk, mounting higher and higher, until it seemedready to tip backwards and whirl to earth like the mortally woundedThunder Bird.
"Fly!" he implored, suddenly petrified with the fear that his companionhad lost his senses and was deliberately throwing caution to the windswith hopeless recklessness.
The suspense was only for a second, although that seemed to span aneternity. At the last moment, when the plane seemed ready to tilt andsomersault backwards, Fly fairly threw it forward with main force, and,as it plunged swiftly downward, he breathed a reassuring sigh. Belowthem they saw the carpet of the meadow spread out calm and serene, apale slender stream winding its peaceful course zigzag betweenflower-decked banks--gently flowing waters that would have reflectedtheir dash to death and destruction as undisturbedly as it mirroredtheir safe descent.
Dizzy and faint, but almost sick with joy, they landed gently on thebosom of mother earth. Fly had taken a desperate chance to clear thepeaks, and had succeeded.
"Safe!" he groaned, too weak to move from the plane. "I'm so glad, oldman," he added huskily. "If anything had happened to you--"
"Why, it's a couple of boys," a cheerful voice was saying just behindthem.
Herb and Fly turned to see two men approaching the plane, and, at thesame moment, their eyes took in another strange sight. A hundred feet orso behind them stood another plane!
"I must believe it, for I have seen it with my own eyes," continued thespeaker, a slender young fellow with a spare blond mustache. "Youaccomplished a feat there, my boy, that I wouldn't attempt for fiftythousand dollars!"
"Who are you?" asked Fly weakly. Surely this was an apparition. Thenerve which had upheld him in the face of imminent danger seemed nowdeserting him. He felt like falling over in a limp heap, abandoninghimself to the sick faintness which made his head swim. He saw thestranger as in a haze, and his voice came to him faintly out of the vastdistance.
"I'll get him some water," said the other man. "He looks sick."
"No wonder," exclaimed the other. "I never saw such a performance asthat in my life."
"Is--is that plane yours?" asked Herb, who, like Fly, did not knowwhether the two strangers were real beings or ghosts.
"Sure. I just had a silly little breakdown. Stopped to mend it.Then--great Caesar, I saw you fellows up there. How my brain wenttraveling when I realized the plight you were in. And you came through!A couple of kids! Who is he?" he continued, referring to Fly. "Where didhe learn to control like that--at his age!"
The speaker's friend was forcing Fly to drink the water he had broughtfor him from the stream, and when the boy had moistened his lips, theman bathed his brow and face with the solicitude of a brother.
But Fly's sinking spell was only momentary and he soon recovered hiscomposure.
"Where you going?" demanded their new friend breezily. "I'm going
totake charge of you. You're in no condition to fly any more to-day."
But the young aviator was made of stronger stuff.
"Oh, I can handle her all right," he said contemptuously, a littleashamed of the weakness he had shown.
"What!" ejaculated the blond young man, looking at his friend inamazement, as much as to say, "Listen to that, will you!"
"Nothing doing," he added, decidedly. "Barkely, just take care of ourbaby--follow us up--while I whirl this young dare-devil to--where willit be?"
"Fort Bayard," said Herb, laughing. Certainly, this was an engagingyoung fellow, and he didn't mind having him along at all.
"Now, young man, I'm going to throw you out of that seat if you don'tmove over, and let me run this thing!" commanded the stranger. "Hike!"
Fly good-naturedly gave way, for he shared Herb's admiration and wasthoroughly pleased with this new acquaintance.
"Who--who are you?" asked Fly again, as the machine ascended.
"That's what I want to know about you," returned the stranger. "I'lltell if you will. My name's Chance."
"Chance!" gasped the boys at once.
"Sure. Ever hear of me?"
"You bet," answered Herb heartily. "You know Hawke, don't you?"
"Hawke the government aviator?" repeated the stranger in surprise.
"Yep."
"Well, he helped us to build this machine, and taught us how to run it,"informed Fly.
"Build this machine?" Young Chance scrutinized his informant as he wouldlook upon a strange, supernatural being.
"Say," he said. "We want fellows like you in New York. You wouldn't mindmaking some good money, would you?"
"I--I--" began Fly, but he could not wield his tongue somehow.
"Got a father around the Fort?" asked the young aviator brusquely.
"Yes--yes," answered Fly. "You must meet him."
That evening, when Herb met the boys returning from their mountain trip,triumphantly bearing the Thunder Bird, which Dunk and Jerry carried withthe aid of a stout branch stuck through its bound feet, and happilyflashing the golden bowl, he ceremoniously held up his hand for them tohalt, demanding silence.
"We formed a Boy Scout patrol," he began strangely. "Didn't we?"
"Why--yes," replied Fred, wonderingly.
"That's nothing." Herb wrinkled his nose contemptuously. "And shot agrizzly?" he interrogated.
"Why yes," answered Gray, regarding him with a puzzled expression.
"That's nothin'," repeated the southerner. "We built an aeroplane," hewent on. "That's nothin'. Mere trifle. We shot the Thunder Bird.Nothin', nothin' at all. That bowl's nothin'."
"Say, what you driving at," exclaimed Jerry. "Spit it out quick, or youto the bug house."
"Because something has happened that makes everythin' else look like athunder clap when it quits."
"What?"
"Fly's goin' to New York to be an aviator with Chance!"
* * * * *
Vacation is over. We are again waiting for the train in the stuffylittle depot at Silver City. Gray and Fred are there--they are goingback to school. Mr. Phipps is there, smiling happily upon the handsomeboy who is returning to college. Captain Crawford and his wife arethere, proud of the stalwart young son they are sending to New Jersey,where he will complete his education at Princeton. Lieutenant Rivers andhis wife are there, for Dunk is going to an eastern medical school.
And Carl is there, for Carl too is going to college. True, he lost themoney he had saved for the purpose, but the golden bowl, which the boyspersuaded him was his by right of conquest, proved to be of sufficientvalue to pay his way through and leave him a generous surplus. Thus,after all, the unselfish Indian realized his dream.
One of the boys is missing--Fly. He left a month ago for New York, wherehe has already met Mr. Chance, and is showing promise of being one ofthe most successful bird-men of the day. Before leaving the Fort, hegave all of the boys sufficient instruction to enable them to fly alone,and to qualify for the aviation medal, which, with a number of otherawards, for first aid, machinery, marksmanship and stalking, werepromptly awarded to the members of the Thunder Bird Patrol, at therecommendation of Hawke, who remembers them now and then with lettersfrom Juarez.
The _Thunder Bird_ aeroplane is safely packed away at the Phipps ranch,where it is to remain until next summer, for, if all turns out well, theboys are again to spend their next vacation in New Mexico.
As for the Thunder Bird himself, stuffed and mounted it occupies aprominent place in the Phipps ranch-house. So hideous is its aspect evenin this harmless condition, that you would not care to stumble on itunawares in the dark, but it no longer makes nightly visits to thesheepfold for prey.
The treacherous redskin, his idol dead, has disappeared, and, accordingto Tommy, has gone back to the Mexican gold fields.
The antiquated train finally reaches the old depot, puffing and blowingas though short of breath. Our young friends scramble into the dustycoaches, stumbling over their suit cases, and bumping good-naturedlyagainst one another.
There are reluctant but cheerful good-byes, and the wheels turn slowly,gathering speed as the last coach passes the station. The last we see ofit, handkerchiefs are still fluttering and hats waving farewell.
Boy Scouts of the Air in Indian Land Page 19