AN INTERESTING ARRIVAL
The road to Tombstone was narrow, rutty and lonesome. Every now and then
it dipped down into a gravelly wash, arroyos in the making, that were,
year after year, being deepened by the torrents that rushed down the
not-distant mountain sides after a cloudburst. Along the banks of these
dry creek-beds grew low cottonwood trees, making shelters behind which
bandits _might_ lurk if they were so inclined. But the girls, having been
assured by Jerry that the train robbers had long since crossed the
Mexican border, were not really fearful. For once, even Mary was not
using her imagination to a frightening extent.
“Big Brother,” she said, “I was just thinking about that aviator friend
of Patsy’s. Don’t you think it must be wonderful to be flying at night up
under those lovely white stars? They look so close to the earth here in
Arizona as though Harry Hulbert might almost have to weave his way among
them.”
Jerry, evidently more desirous of talking of stars than of the aviator of
the “Seagull,” stated matter-of-factly, “It’s the clear air here that
makes the stars look so large and close—sort of like lanterns hung in a
blue-black roof over our heads.”
Just then a huge star shot across the heavens leaving a trail of fire.
Mary whirled to call back, “Oh, Dora, did you wish on that shooting
star?”
“Nope! Didn’t see it!” was the laconic reply.
“Did you?” Jerry asked in a low voice. How he hoped Mary had echoed _his_
wish, but what she said was, “Yes, I hoped the Seagull would make a safe
landing. It must be terribly dangerous landing among so many mountain
peaks, or, one might even be forced down in the middle of a barren
stretch of desert, oh, miles from water or anyone!”
If Jerry were disappointed, he made no comment. Dora leaned forward to
call, “From the top of the next little hill we’d ought to be able to see
the lights of Tombstone, hadn’t we, Jerry?”
“I reckon we will, lest be the power plant’s out of commission.”
The rather feeble lights of the rattly old car did little to illumine the
well of darkness in which they were riding. The wash they were crossing
was wide and deep and the girls were both glad when they climbed that
last little hill and were nearer the stars again. From the top, they
could see the black wall of mountains to the distant right of them, which
Jerry had called “The Dragoons.” A desert valley at its foot stretched
away for many miles shimmering in the starlight. Not far ahead of them
was a cluster of sand hills—“the silver hills”—on which stood the small
mining-town of Tombstone. The power plant was in order, as was evidenced
by the twinkling of lights. A friendly group of them marked the main
street, and scattered lights, farther and farther apart, were shining
from the windows of homes. Down the little hill the car dropped, then
began the last long climb up to the town.
On the main street there were unshaven, roughly dressed men, some from
the range, others from the mines, loitering about in front of a lighted
pool hall. They were talking, some of them excitedly, about the recent
train robbery. Jerry drew his car to the curb and leaped out. Three young
cowboys called a greeting to him. He replied in a friendly way, but
turned at once to assist Mary. Dick and Dora followed the other two into
a low adobe building labeled “Post Office.” A light was burning in a
small back room. Jerry opened the door and entered. A middle-aged man,
whose gauntness suggested that he had come there to be cured of the
“white plague,” smiled affably. “Evening, Jerry-boy,” he said. “Wait till
I get this message. The wires are keeping hot tonight along of that train
robbery.”
The uneven clicking of the instrument ended; the man scribbled a few
words, called a lounging boy from a dark corner and dispatched him to
Sheriff Goode. Jerry introduced his companions to Mr. Hale, then
explained the object of their visit.
Mr. Hale shook his head. “Well, that’s just too bad,” he said. “I happen
to know that Gray Bluffs country well. Stopped off when I first came
West, health-hunting, but it didn’t agree with me there; nothing like
this Tombstone shine and air to make sick lungs well.”
His tanned face and bright eyes told his enthusiasm, but he added
quickly, “_That_ won’t interest you any. What I started to say is that
Gray Bluffs isn’t a real town, that is not _now_. It was, of course, when
they first found gold in the bluffs, but it petered out, the post office
moved to another place and so did the folks who’d lived there.”
“Did you ever hear of a woman named Burger over there?” Jerry asked.
“Sure! That was the name of the postmistress, Miss Kate Burger. She died,
though, along about five years ago.”
Just then the instrument began an excited clicking. The operator turned
his attention to it. “Say, that’s great!” he ejaculated as though
addressing whoever was sending the message.
“Oh, Mr. Hale, _have_ they caught the robbers?” Mary asked eagerly.
“No, not that.” The man was scribbling rapidly. “Say, hasn’t that kid—oh,
here you are, Trombone. Take this back to the Deputy Sheriff’s office.
Dep’s been loco all day.” Then to the interested listeners, he explained,
“He’d been promised the help of an air scout from the East; thought maybe
he’d had a smashup; was due this morning early. Well, that last message
was from the head office of the border patrol. The air scout will be
along any time now.”
“Oh, Mr. Hale, is his name Harry Hulbert?” Mary, her pretty cheeks
flushed, listened eagerly for the answer.
“Don’t know! Haven’t heard! Say, Jerry.” The man looked up quickly, and
Dora thought she’d never seen such keen, eagle-like eyes. “You boys had
better drop out the back way if you can. Dep Goode is rounding up all the
able-bodied fellows he can find for the next posse that’s to start as
soon as this air pilot does a little scouting.”
Mary, suddenly panicky at the idea, caught the cowboy’s arm. “Oh, Big
Brother,” she cried, forgetting that the name would sound strange to a
man who knew that Jerry had no sisters, “can’t we get away somehow before
we’re seen?”
Jerry looked at her tenderly, but shook his head. “No, I cain’t dodge my
duty. I _must_ volunteer!” Then, to the other boy, “Dick, you drive the
girls back to Gleeson, will you? I reckon the Deputy Sheriff’ll let you
off. He isn’t after tenderfoot help, meaning no harm, they’d be more of a
hindrance.”
Dick flushed, but knowing that Jerry always meant whatever he said in the
kindest way, he expressed his disappointment. “Oh, I say, Jerry, can’t I
come back after I’ve taken the girls home? I’d like awfully well to hang
around and watch what happens. I’ll promise not to get underfoot or be in
the way.”
Before Jerry could reply, Mary caught his coat sleeve and exclaimed, her
eyes like stars, “Hark, don’t you hear an airplane?”
They all listened and heard distinctly from above the hum of a motor.
Dick sprang toward the door. “Come on, everyone, let’s be among those
present on the reception committee,” he said. Then, remembering his
manners, he stepped back and held the door open for the girls to pass
out.
“Good night, Mr. Hale, and thanks a lot,” Mary called with her sweetest
smile.
“Hope you’ll all drop in again.” The man had only time to nod before his
attention was again called to the busy little instrument.
Out in the street, there were many more men. As the news of the robbery
had spread by horseback riders and remote ranch telephones, men had
galloped into town eager to offer their services. Now they all stood or
sat their horses, silent, for the most part, as they watched the great
silver bird which was slowly circling round and round over their heads.
The moon had risen above distant peaks and was high enough to make the
street dimly lighted.
“Oh, it _must_ be Harry!” Mary whispered excitedly as she clutched
Jerry’s arm not knowing that she did so. “That plane _is_ as silvery as a
seagull, just as Patsy and Polly wrote us.”
“Wonder why he doesn’t land,” Dick commented.
“I reckon there isn’t but one safe landing place in this town, and that’s
right here where the crowd is standing. This square, out front of the
post office, has been landed on before now.”
“See! Something’s falling from the plane.” Dora pointed upward. “It’s a
small something! What _can_ it be?”
The object fell like a plummet and landed at their feet. “It’s an
aluminum bottle. Oh, look! There’s a note attached to it.” Dora picked it
up.
“Here comes Deputy Sheriff Goode,” Jerry told the others. “Give it to me!
I’ll hand it to him.”
The Deputy Sheriff’s restless horse did not stop prancing while the man
opened and read the note. Then he flung it to the ground, pocketing the
small bottle.
Dick, feeling sure that the message had not been of a private nature,
picked it up and with the aid of his flash he read: “Whirl a lantern,
will you, where I’m supposed to land. A. S. H. H.”
“A. S. means air scout, of course,” Dick said.
“And H. H. is Harry Hulbert. Oh, Dora, think of our meeting Patsy’s
aviator.” Mary’s eyes were shining with excitement.
Jerry could not help hearing Dora’s reply. “_Not_ Patsy’s!” was said
teasingly. “Remember _this_ young hero was chosen for _you_.”
“Oh, silly!” Mary retorted, but her rebuke did not seem to be voicing
displeasure.
“Move back! Move back everyone! Scuttle! Five seconds to clear this
square!” Cowmen on horseback were acting as mounted police and were so
effective that in short order the big square was vacant and ready for the
landing.