The Boy Aviators in Record Flight; Or, The Rival Aeroplane
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CHAPTER XIV.
THE AUTO IN DIFFICULTIES.
As Bart had expected, the boys were troubled no more that night,although there was naturally little enough sleep for any one. It wassoon after daybreak and they were at breakfast when, across the plain,at the foot of the spur on which they were encamped, the boys saw adetachment of horsemen riding rapidly toward them. Through the glassesthe boys speedily made them out as United States cavalrymen. They wereadvancing at a smart trot, and soon reached the boys' camp.
"Good-morning," said the officer at their head, "you seem to bebreakfasting quietly enough, but you might not be taking it so easy if Iwere to tell you that several Indians have gone off the reservation andhave managed to secure enough bad whiskey to make them very dangerous."
"I guess, captain, that we had a bit of a run-in with your Indians lastnight," said Frank, with a quiet smile.
"What? Why, God bless my soul, they are very bad men; it's a wonder anyof you are alive. How did it happen?"
Frank detailed the happenings of the night, being frequently interruptedby the officer's exclamations of amazement. He regretted, though, thatthey had been so badly scared, as he anticipated a long journey beforehe crossed their trail again.
The attention of the captain and his troopers was then attracted by theaeroplane. They had read in the papers that found their way to the lonedesert post of the great flight, and were much interested in the boys'story of their adventure. The officer told them that he, himself, wasmuch interested in aerial navigation and had constructed severalexperimental craft. He expected, he said, to be detailed by thegovernment before very long to undertake an important expedition. Hisambition was to reach the South Pole, just as his fellow officer,Commander Peary, attained the northernmost pinnacle of the earth.
After a little more conversation, the officer, who said his name wasCaptain Robert Hazzard, and the boys parted with many warm expressionsof friendship. The whole company of troopers, however, waited till theaeroplane had soared into the air, and the auto chugged off beneath it,before they wheeled their wiry little horses and started off on the longweary chase after the Indians.
As the boys in the auto spun along over the level expanse of prairie,which, except where the rough road traversed it, was overgrown withsage-brush and cactus plants, the car came to a sudden stop. Then,without any warning, it plunged forward and seemed to drop quite a fewfeet.
Billy, who was driving, instantly shut off power, and gazed back inamazement. The auto was sunk to its hubs in mud. There was no doubtabout it. The substance in which it was stuck was unmistakable mud.
"It's a mud hole," exclaimed Bart Witherbee; "now we are stuck with avengeance."
"But what on earth is mud doing out in the middle of a dry desert?"demanded Lathrop.
"I dunno how it gits thar; no one does," responded Bart; "maybe itshidden springs or something, but every year cattle git lost that way.They are walking over what seemed solid ground when the crust breaks,and bang! down they go, just like us."
"But this is a trail," objected Billy, "wagons must go over it."
"No wagons as heavy as this yer chuck cart, I guess," was Bart's reply.
"We must signal the _Golden Eagle_ of our plight," was Lathrop'sexclamation.
"But the wireless mast is down," objected Billy; "we can't."
"Consarn it, that's so," agreed Bart. "Well, we've got to signal 'emsomehow. Let's fire our pistols."
The _Golden Eagle_ seemed quite a distance off, but the lads got outtheir revolvers and fired a fusillade. However, if they had but knownit, there was no need for them to have wasted ammunition, for Harry,through his glasses, had already seen that something was wrong withtheir convoy.
The aeroplane at once turned back, and was soon on the plain alongsidethe boys. By this time they had all got out and were busy dragging allthe heavy articles from the tonneau so as to lighten it as much aspossible. A long rope was then attached to the front axle and they allheaved with all their might. The auto did not budge an inch, however.
In fact, it seemed to be sinking more deeply in the mud.
"We've got to do something and do it quick," declared Bart, "if wedon't, the mud hole may swallow our gasolene gig, and then we'd die ofthirst afore we could reach a settlement."
They desperately tugged and heaved once more, but their efforts were ofno avail.
"I've got an idea," suddenly exclaimed Frank; "maybe if we hitch the_Golden Eagle_ to the rope it will help."
"It's worth trying, and we've got to do something," agreed Bart. "Comeon, then. Couple up."
The rope was attached to the lower frame of the _Golden Eagle_, andwhile they all hauled Frank started up the engine of the aeroplane. Fora second or so the propellers of the _Golden Eagle_ beat the air withoutresult, then suddenly the boys' throats were rent with a loud "Hurrah,"as the auto budged a tiny bit. Not far from the trail were the ruins ofan old hut. Several stout beams were still standing upright amid thedebris.
"Hold on a bit," shouted Bart suddenly.
He seized up an axe from the heap of camp kit that had been hastilythrown on the ground and started for the ruins. In a few minutes he wasback with four stout levers.
By using these, they managed to raise the auto still more, and wedge thewheels under with other bits of timber obtained from the demolished hut.Then the aeroplane was started up once more, and this time the auto,with a loud cheer, was dragged clear of the treacherous hole.
"We'll just stick up a bit of timber here to warn any one else thatcomes along," declared Bart, as he fixed a tall timber in the groundwhere it would attract the attention of any traveler coming along theroad.
Soon after this, a start was made, and the aeroplane and the auto madegood time across the blazing hot plain. All the afternoon they traveleduntil Billy Barnes fairly cried out for a stop.
"I'm so thirsty I could die," he declared.
"Then get a drink," recommended Bart Witherbee, indicating the zincwater tank under the tonneau seat.
"It's empty," said Lathrop. "I tried it a little while ago."
"Empty," echoed Witherbee, his face growing grave. "Here, let's have alook at that map, youngster, and see where's our next watering place."
Billy Barnes, with a look of comical despair, handed it over. "I'll haveto wait for a drink of water till we get to a town, I suppose. What doyou want the map for, Bart?"
"Fer that very reason--ter see how soon we do get to a town. I'd like adrink myself just about now."
He perused the map for a minute in silence. Then he looked up, his facegraver even than before.
"Well, she can go sixty miles or better, but I'm afraid of heating theengine too much if we travel at that pace," responded Billy, who was atthe steering wheel.
"Well, we've got to hustle; it's most a hundred miles to Gitalong, andthat's the nearest town to us."
"Nonsense, Bart," exclaimed Lathrop, pointing to another name on thewide waste, which on the map represents sparsely settled New Mexico,"here's a place called Cow Wells."
"No, thar ain't," was Bart's reply.
"There isn't?"
"No."
"But here it is on the map."
"That's all right; maps ain't always ter be relied on any more thanpreachers. Cow Wells has gone dry. I reckon that's why they called itCow Wells. Everybody has moved away. It used ter be a mining camp."
"Are you sure it's abandoned?" asked Billy in a trembling voice.
"Sartain sure," responded Bart. "I heard about it when I come through onmy way east."
"Then we can't get a thing to drink till we reach Gitalong?"
"That's about the size of it," was the dispiriting reply of the oldplainsman.