A NIGHT ALARM.
Quatty, quite recovered now from his first terror, and almost aggressive
in his newly-found courage, sat by Frank's side directing him as well as
he could for, as he explained, he would not be able to get his bearings
till they had passed the cypress belt and were above the Everglades
themselves. Every now and again, however, he would give the young
captain a steering direction.
"A bit mo' eas' by sout'," or "Hold a bit to de sout' sout' eas',
massa."
"What are we making, Frank, do you estimate?" inquired Harry, as the
ship rushed through the air.
"About ten miles," rejoined the other, "the wind is dead against us."
"Not as fast as a subway express, but doing pretty well," was Harry's
comment.
The young engineer was, however, most of the time as engrossed with his
engines as was Frank with the steering apparatus. From time to time he
ran his hand carefully over them to see if the condenser was doing its
cooling work properly. The lubricating gear also received his careful
attention. A heated bearing would have meant a serious accident if not
disaster and Harry was too old an aeronaut despite his youthful years
not to pay the closest attention to one of the most important features
of a gasolene engine.
"It seems to me that we had better make camp for the night in the
cypress belt if possible and make an early start over the 'glades
themselves to-morrow," said Frank, as the dark line of trees grew
gradually nearer and the boys saw that they formed a thick belt in some
places several miles across.
"Yes, if we find a landing-place," rejoined Harry.
"How about that, Quatty?" questioned Frank, "are there any smooth spots
clear of trees in the swamp?"
"Oh, berry plenty, massa," replied the negro. "I fin' you nice lilly
campin' place we get near dem."
Like a big hawk about to pounce the _Golden Eagle II_ was hovering about
an hour before sundown above the tops of the dark cypresses in search of
a suitable spot to swoop down. After Frank had manoeuvred her in widening
circles through the air for perhaps half an hour they at last were above
a large clearing a mile or more in diameter and which was quite clear of
trees.
"Injun make um long time ago, maybe three, four thousan' years,"
explained Quatty in answer to the boys' questions.
"Three or four hundred, more likely," laughed Frank.
"Or three or four," added Harry.
"Berry well, massas," said Quatty, highly offended, "I 'spose ah don'
know nuffin' but what an ig'nant sabage knows."
To make a landing Frank swung the aeroplane in a long descending arc
till he was a few feet above the tops of the outermost of the trees that
fringed the clearing then he raised the planes slightly and the _Golden
Eagle II_ glided to the earth in a long, slow sweep. The engines had of
course been cut out as the descent began and she settled as easily as a
bird alighting.
With mosquito netting brought for the purpose the sides of the
pilot-house were at once enclosed, for although it was still daylight,
the tiny pests that make life miserable on the edges of the 'glades had
begun to appear in armies. Strange to say, in the 'glades themselves
there are hardly any mosquitoes, but on its borders they swarm in great
numbers.
Quatty built a smudge of green wood and leaves before he set about
getting supper and in this way the worst of the visitation was
alleviated.
The boys watched with some interest while Quatty built his fire. He had
lived so long with the Seminoles that he built it in the way the Indians
have adopted from time immemorial. First he made a big ring of dry
sticks and twigs, the largest on the outside and the small dry ones in
the center. He lighted it in the center with his old flint and steel and
then having made a rack out of a stick of green wood, placed across two
forked upright ones, he pushed the larger timbers from the outside to
the center as occasion required.
After a hearty meal of stewed preserved meat made into a delectable stew
with dessicated vegetables and canned corn, followed by stewed
evaporated fruit washed down by boiling tea, the boys and Quatty retired
to the mosquito-barred pilot-house of the _Golden Eagle II_, where
Quatty lighted his pipe "jes' ter plague dem mosquitoes outside," he
explained, and the boys talked over future plans. After a short time,
however, weariness after the energetic day they had put in completely
overcame them and they stretched out on the transoms. In a few minutes
sleep closed their eyes and the only sound that disturbed the deep
silence in the cypress belt was the loud snoring of Quatty and the
rhythmical croaking of the frogs and tree lizards in the swamp.
Toward midnight Frank could not judge how long he had been asleep, it
seemed to him five minutes, as a matter of fact it was as many hours,
when he was awakened with a start to hear a stealthy tread a few feet
away from the aeroplane.
"Who's there?" he shouted.
The minute his voice rang out the footsteps retreated as stealthily as
they had approached.
In this lonely untraveled spot who could it be?
The boy awakened his brother and Quatty and cautioning them to silence
whispered them his alarming intelligence. Each boy grabbed his rifle and
prepared to defend the _Golden Eagle II_ with all their power. As for
that arrant coward Quatty, all his recent bravado quite gone, he could
only tremble and whimper in terror.
"What do you suppose it is, Frank?" whispered Harry.
"I wish I knew," replied the other.
"Do you think it's Indians?" was Harry's next question.
"It might be," replied Frank, "but I'm afraid that it's worse than
that."
"What do you mean?" inquired Harry in the same low tone of voice.
"That the men we are in pursuit of have got some inkling of our purpose
and are even now lurking about here to wreck the aeroplane and perhaps
kill us."
The prospect was certainly an alarming one. If Frank's idea was correct
they were powerless. It was unlikely that their enemies would be less
than half a dozen and perhaps more. Brave as they were the two boys
realized that they could do little against such overwhelming numbers and
Quatty was worse than useless.
"Here he comes again," cried Frank in a tense whisper as after several
minutes of silence the boys sat gripping their rifles.
Sure enough the slow, heavy tread was again advancing. It was too dark
in the shadows of the mighty cypress trees to see anything and the boys
could only judge of the enemy's whereabouts by the sound. After
advancing quite close to the aeroplane the steps ceased and the boys
could distinctly hear a low, steady breathing.
"I can't stand this any longer," whispered Frank. "I'm going to fire."
Aiming directly at the sound Frank pulled the trigger. As the report
crashed among the trees a roar of pain filled the air and a crashing
sound as if a body had fallen was heard.
"What on earth is it?" gasped Harry, as the roar was followed by whines
and yells of pain and a sound as if a big carcass was lashing about on
the ground.
It was Quatty who solved the mystery.
"Why, dat's a panfer," he cried, "ah knowed all along 'twern't nuffin'
but dat."
"Get the lantern," ordered Frank, curtly, "and we'll see what it is."
[Illustration: Frank shoots a panther.]
"Yes, massa," sputtered the negro awed by the boy's sharp tone. He lit
the lamp in silence and the boys sallied out. It was as Quatty had said.
On the ground near their camp-fire lay the animal still writhing. Frank
put it out of its agony with a shot through the head and then the boys
bent over their prize, examining admiringly its tawny skin and great
shapely head.
"See, massa, Quatty was right. Nuffin' to get scared of. Nuffin' but an
ole panfer."
"Did you think it was 'nuffin' but a panfer' ten minutes ago?" asked
Frank.
"Wall, no, massa," replied the darky, somewhat abashed; "but ah 'spected
it right along. Yes, sah, ah mus' say ah 'spected 'twan't nuffin' but
dat."
By this time the sky to the east across the Everglades was beginning to
grow gray and as none of the party felt any more inclination to sleep,
Quatty was set to work to skin the panther; after which Frank and Harry
sauntered into the woods with the shotguns. So good was their success
that they managed to bag three brace of doves which broiled with strips
of bacon formed a very agreeable addition to the oatmeal, pilot-bread
and coffee on which they had intended making their morning meal.
Even before they had despatched their breakfast the sun had risen and
illuminated the vast brown levels of the 'glades, which now lay directly
before them. The sky was specked with kites and vultures attracted by
the carcass of the panther.
"Dey won't even leab' any pickins ob him," said Quatty, motioning up at
the soaring carrion birds, "'specs dey finks we pretty good folks to gib
dem brakfus' as well as ourselves."
Breakfast despatched and the engine fed with fresh lubricant and the
gasolene and condenser tanks filled with additional fuel and water the
young adventurers were ready to take up what they felt was to be the
most important stage of their journey thus far.
The machine was hauled back from the part of the glade where it had
alighted to the extreme far side so as to give it all the room possible
to rise in. There being no one to turn the propellers the boys utilized
their self-starting apparatus.
This consisted of a handle attached to a cogged wheel which operated a
chain which in turn revolved another cogged wheel connected to both
shafts. This of course acted in exactly the same way as if some one had
twisted the propellers, but it required more elbow grease. After a
couple of revolutions the engine started up and with a quick all-seeing
glance fore and aft Frank threw in the clutch. The _Golden Eagle II_
started as easily as she had the day before and took the air after about
fifty yards' run.
A serious accident, however, was narrowly averted as she cleared the
tree-tops. Quatty, arrogant in the fact that he no longer feared the
riding in an aeroplane, was standing carelessly on the inclined floor as
the craft rose. A sudden jerk as she bucked an uprising current almost
threw him from his feet and he made a grab for the first thing he could
catch hold of, which was a starboard rudder wire. Under the tug of the
stumbling negro's hand the rudder was of course pulled over and the ship
gave a dizzy swoop.
Harry at the engine was thrown right across the pilot-house and Frank
thought for a minute that they had gone. With a swift glance he saw what
had happened. Reaching back he caught the luckless Quatty a blow under
the jaw that laid him flat and effectually loosened his hold on the
tiller-wire. Swift as thought the young captain skilfully righted her
but not before her port wing-tip had grazed the topmost foliage of one
of the loftier cypresses.
When they were once more safe Frank spoke:
"In future, Quatty," he said, "you will lie flat on the floor when we
are going up."