FLIRTING WITH DEATH
The little Mexican adobe house which Bert Chase had discovered was the
funniest Linda and Dot had ever seen. A one-room affair, with a slanting
straw-covered roof, and no windows. Only two doors, opening back and
front.
“I’d almost rather sleep under the stars,” remarked Linda. “For there
are probably all sorts of bugs in the corners and cracks.”
Dot shivered. “Still, bugs are better than bears and snakes, that might
come wandering down from those mountains,” she said. “And besides, it
would be ungrateful not to use the house after Bert found it.”
“It will be protection from the sun in the morning,” added Linda.
“Because this Mexican climate gets pretty hot.”
So, spreading their blankets on the floor and propping the doors open
with sticks, they lay down on their hard bed and fell fast asleep, not
to awaken until quite late the following morning.
“Fog again!” yawned Dot, as she finally got up stiffly and walked to the
door. “I’m sick of these fogs.”
“It’ll probably clear up soon,” Linda reminded her. “I’ve read that
early morning fogs are the common thing in this part of the country.”
“Let’s hunt that stream Bert was talking about, and get a good wash,”
suggested Dot. “Before we go back to the autogiro.”
They found it not far from the little house, and although it was shallow
and narrow, the water was clear and refreshing. They felt much better as
they made their way back to the spot where the Ladybug had landed.
For several minutes they could see nothing because of the fog, and they
began to feel worried. Suppose something had happened to Chase or to the
autogiro during the night! What a desolate place to be stranded!
Before these dismal thoughts could really take hold of them, they spied
the dim outlines of the Ladybug, shadowy in the fog. She was still
there! Their means of escape.
Dot placed her hands at her mouth, and gave a war-whoop for Chase.
“Yo-ho-ho-ho-Bert!” she shouted.
“Yo-ho, girls!” came the reassuring reply. “This way!”
Then they distinguished a fire, and a moment later, came upon him,
contentedly cooking a fish.
“Where did you get it?” demanded Dot.
“Caught it. Early this morning,” he replied. “I felt guilty about eating
so much of your food last night, so I tried to get a contribution. That
stream widens out about a mile below your little house, so I went down
and tried my luck.”
“You’re a peach!” exclaimed Dot. “Because all we have left is coffee and
that terrible Mexican bread. It’s a wonder they don’t learn how to bake
in Mexico.”
“It surely smells good,” observed Linda. “How soon can we eat?”
“As soon as you girls make the coffee. I brought up a fresh supply of
water this morning. We’ll boil some of it, to take along with us for
drinking, while we have the chance to do it.”
It turned out to be a delicious as well as a merry meal. While they ate,
the fog gradually lifted, bringing a clear, if hot day, for their
flight.
“We must be pretty near the coast of the Gulf of California,” said
Linda. “So I think perhaps our best plan would be to fly across to the
peninsula. I have an idea that girl is going to abandon the Sky Rocket
as soon as she can, for it’s pretty conspicuous.”
“What would she do to get away, if she hadn’t a plane?” demanded Dot.
“Hide somewhere, or take a boat for South America perhaps. Now that she
and her husband are out of the United States, it would be easy enough
for them to book passage on a small steamer—without being noticed.”
“Is your autogiro in good condition?” inquired Chase. “I mean—I didn’t
damage it yesterday, did I?”
“No. You know you never touched me. But I’ll look her over before we
start. And put in that tank of extra gas I was carrying in the
passenger’s cockpit.”
“Perhaps I could help you?” suggested the young man. “I don’t know much
about the inside workings of a plane, but maybe two heads are better
than one.”
Dot let out a peal of laughter.
“Linda is a graduate airplane mechanic,” she said. “She is the only
woman in the country with a mechanic’s license!”
Chase stared in open-mouthed amazement.
“Whew!” he exclaimed. “I do take off my hat to you, Miss Linda Carlton!”
“You’d better!” laughed Dot.
“Oh, don’t be so silly,” put in Linda, anxious to be off. “Let’s all go
over to the Ladybug now.”
While Dot put the equipment into the autogiro, Chase filled the gasoline
tank and Linda gave the boat a hasty inspection. Apparently everything
was ship-shape.
They climbed into the cockpits and Linda started the rotors in motion.
It was Chase’s first experience in an autogiro, and he watched her with
absorbed interest. The ease with which the Ladybug rose into the air
seemed nothing short of miraculous to him, accustomed as he was to the
prolonged taxi-ing of a fast plane.
With the aid of her maps and compass, Linda was able to judge their
location pretty definitely, and she flew westward to the Gulf of
California, aiming to stop first at an airport to make inquiries about
the Sky Rocket, and to refuel. They passed over the plateau, and caught
glimpses of several Mexican villages, which, however, seemed too small
to boast of airports. At last, however, about noon, she spotted a town
of some size, with beacon sign-posts, pointing to an airport. Here she
made her landing.
“We’ll be out of luck if they don’t speak English,” remarked Dot.
“Don’t worry about that,” returned Chase. “I can speak Spanish, and they
all understand that down here.”
But it wasn’t necessary, for one of the attendants at the field spoke
English perfectly.
“Have you seen a yellow biplane?” demanded Dot, as the man came out of
the hangar. “A fast plane?”
The attendant nodded.
“Yes,” he replied. “I did. We got a radio yesterday, telling us to be on
the look-out for a stolen plane. I’m pretty sure I saw her yesterday,
but she didn’t stop here.”
“She wouldn’t,” remarked Dot, bitterly.
“What direction did she take?” asked Linda.
“Straight across the Gulf. Due west.”
“Due west for us, then,” announced Linda. “Fill up my tanks, for we want
to leave with all possible speed.”
Inside of ten minutes they were off again, more encouraged than they had
been since the beginning of their pursuit. It looked now as if they
really might catch those criminals.
In their eagerness to follow hot on the trail, not one of the three
fliers even thought of lunch. Later in the day they were to regret this
omission sorely.
An hour of flying brought them to the coast, but Linda did not stop. Out
over the water she flew, her heart beating rapidly with the expectation
of victory ahead.
But in her excitement, she had not realized how wide the Gulf of
California was at this southern part. Two hundred miles, at least, if
she kept her course straight. She had covered only a little more than
half of this, when she saw to her horror that her main tank was
exhausted. Twelve gallons of gas in the emergency supply, and almost a
hundred miles to go!
What a fool she had been, not to put an extra tank into the cockpit! To
think that after all her experience, she should be endangering three
lives by her carelessness! To be forced down in the water! To meet death
in a way she had not thought of, since her flight across the Atlantic
Ocean!
She slowed down her speed and gazed all about her at the limitless
expanse of water beneath them. No land in sight—not even a boat to which
she could signal. Parachute jumping would be of no use, and she did not
carry life-preservers.
She glanced again at the indicator; conserving gas as well as she could,
it was nevertheless rapidly disappearing. Ten minutes more, perhaps—and
then a watery grave! She grew panicky, more for her companions than for
herself. She would have to tell them of their fate.
Trying to keep her voice from shaking, she called into the
speaking-tube:
“We’re out of gas. We have to come down. Be prepared to jump clear of
the ship!”
Chase and Dot looked at each other in incredulity. The young man thought
Linda was joking, but the girl knew that it was not her chum’s habit to
make ghastly jokes. If Linda said danger, she meant it. Desperately Dot
reached for the glasses and peered anxiously about them in all
directions.
Linda, her lips tight and her heart tense, continued to guide the plane
and to watch the indicator. Five minutes more, perhaps—and then—what?
The hungry waves, tossing beneath her, seemed to make their greedy
answer.
A sudden hysterical cry from Dot sounded above the roar of the motor.
“Land!” she shouted, wildly. “Bank to the right!” And then, fearing that
Linda had not heard her, she repeated her message through the
speaking-tube.
Although Linda could still see nothing with her naked eye, she did as
she was told, thankful that she was high enough in the air to gain
considerable distance by gliding. Two minutes passed; the gas ran dry,
but now the island was in sight. By careful manipulation, Linda thought
she could make it.
With a series of side-slips, she gradually made her approach, coming
nearer and nearer to the land as she descended, until she was actually
over it. Then, with a dead-stick landing, so much easier with an
autogiro than with an ordinary plane, she slowly came down on the sandy
soil of the beach!
“Oh, thank Heaven!” cried Dot, in an ecstasy of relief. “A miracle, if
there ever was one.”
Chase said nothing for a moment; he was speechless with admiration.
“Pretty tight squeeze,” admitted Linda, as she wiped the perspiration
from her face. “If it hadn’t been for you, Dot, I’d never have seen it.”
Still trembling from their experience, the girls climbed out of the
cockpits with Chase’s assistance. At last the young man found words to
express his admiration to Linda. But she was too ashamed of her lack of
foresight to accept any praise. She was still terribly vexed with
herself.
“Now we’ll have to explore,” announced Dot. “Do you suppose anybody
lives on this island?”
“I’m afraid not,” replied Chase. “Or they’d have been here to see us by
this time. It looks pretty barren and forsaken to me.”
“No trees! No shade at all!” added Dot.
Nothing, indeed, but a dry underbrush, and the sort of weeds that grow
in sandy soil. The little group walked all around the island, and found
it to be very small. Probably it was not even shown on most maps, though
Linda did recall seeing some dots in the southern part of the Gulf. And
of course nobody lived there.
Dismally they came back to the beach where the Ladybug was resting.
“Is there any food left at all?” asked Chase, trying not to appear too
eager.
“Not a crumb,” replied Dot. “Though we do still have about a gallon of
water.”
“The first thing to do,” he said, “is to climb up on the plane and hoist
a signal of distress. So we’ll catch a ship, if one goes past. If you’ll
get me something to put....”
He glanced shyly at the girls. As they were both in khaki flying-suits,
there was no chance of using a white skirt or petticoat, as he had so
often read of, in books about ship-wreck. But Linda immediately procured
a large square of canvas which she kept on hand for repair, and he did
the climbing at once.
When he came down again, he produced the fishing-line which he had
improvised that morning and set about to try to catch a fish. Linda
spent her time inspecting the plane, and Dot went about gathering
underbrush for a fire, in case Chase was lucky enough to secure a catch.
Each of the three had taken a deep drink of water, resolutely trying to
stave off their hunger by that means.
An hour passed, and another, without any sign of a boat, and the girls
began to wonder whether they would have to spend the night on this tiny
island, without any food. They were sitting back on the beach, near to
the autogiro, talking a little, and searching the waters often with the
glasses for the sight of a ship. The sun was already low against the
horizon.
“I wonder how far we are from the peninsula,” remarked Dot. “Maybe we
could swim.”
“Not on an empty stomach,” returned Linda. “Besides, we must be pretty
far. According to my figures.... Oh, look, Dot!” She jumped gaily to her
feet.
“What! A boat?” cried her companion.
“No. Only Bert—with a fish! But it surely does look good.”
“Light your fire, Dot!” the young man called as he approached. “The fish
is cleaned—all ready to fry.”
“You’re an ace!” returned the girl, looking admiringly at the young man
in his flier’s suit, and his rumpled hair and cheery smile. How
different he looked from the first time the girls had seen him—as a
stern detective in Von Goss’s office. It didn’t seem possible that they
had known him only a few days.
She lighted the fire, and half an hour later they ate their scanty
supper. If anyone had ever told them that fish without any bread, or
even salt, would taste good, they would not have believed it. But now
they found it extremely satisfying.
“I’m going right back again,” said Chase, when they had finished eating.
“If I have to fish all night, I’m determined to get something for your
breakfast!”
“You—won’t—have—to,” announced Linda, slowly, handing her glasses to
Dot. “I’m sure I see a boat!”