A VISITOR FROM THE SKIES
“A balloon—yes, that’s what it must be, Bob!” exclaimed the prairie
boy, who had doubtless never before set eyes on such an object as now
dawned upon his startled vision.
“Sure it is, Frank; I’ve seen ’em lots of times at the country fairs
in Kentucky,” Bob went on, almost breathlessly, as he reached the
side of his chum.
The two stood watching with wide eyes the approach of the bulky,
unwieldly object, that nearly dragged along the ground at times,
since it was in a partly collapsed state.
“He seems to be waving his arms at us, Bob!” declared Frank, whose
eyes were nearly as keen as those of a hawk.
“Yes, he is trying to tell us something, Frank,” replied the other.
“Perhaps he’s in a peck of trouble,” suggested the other.
“I’m most sure of that, for the old gas-bag is half empty; but the
wind carries it along, you see,” Bob remarked, as the balloon
continued to head directly for the spot where they stood.
“Perhaps he’s afraid it’ll hit the trees?” cried Frank.
“Huh! I’d rather think he’s afraid it _won’t_ do that same!” Bob
ventured. “For it looks to me as if that man would give just anything
to be safe on the ground again. See how wild he is getting, Frank!”
“We must do something for him!” declared Bob’s chum.
With his eye he gauged the coming on the runaway balloon. Then he
started to run rapidly forward, turning a little to the left.
“Think it’s going to come here?” questioned Bob, who had obediently
trailed along at the heels of his chum; for Bob knew that as a rule
Frank could be depended upon to do the right thing.
“Unless there’s a sudden shift of the wind he’s bound to; and I don’t
expect that to happen,” came the reply.
Indeed, Bob could himself see that the chances were as ten to one
that they now stood directly in the path of the coming balloon. It
had considerable momentum, and there was a question as to whether two
boys would be able to curb the rush of the big gas-bag.
When Bob thought this he failed to give his comrade full credit for
his sagacity. Frank had anticipated just that thing. And more than
that, he was prepared to meet the emergency.
Frank was so constituted that he could apply such practices as came
into his daily life to the needs of the hour. For one thing, he had
noticed that a long and apparently stout rope was trailing down on
the ground. Perhaps it had once had an anchor of some sort attached;
but if so, this had long since been torn away.
Bob was nerving himself for a tug of war when the two of them
threw their combined weight on that rope. He was therefore greatly
astonished to hear his chum suddenly exclaim:
“Leave it to me, Bob; but stand by to help, if I call on you!”
With the words Frank jumped forward. The balloon had bobbed up again
in one of its queer movements, and passed over their heads. They
could hear the bare-headed man in the broken basket shouting at the
top of his voice:
“Grab that rope! Hold her, till I can drop out!”
Then Frank made a dive, and the rope was in his hands. Another quick
movement that fairly dazzled Bob, and he saw the prairie boy whip the
end three times around the butt of a small but fairly stout tree that
lay within reach. The boy, who was accustomed to roping cattle had
used the sapling as a “snubbing post.”
There was a shock, as the rope came taut. The tree bent far over,
and Bob half expected to see it torn up by the roots, or else break
in two. Neither of these catastrophes came to pass, for that sapling
was made of stern stuff. It bent, but did not give way. And the mad
journey of the runaway balloon seemed to have been brought to a
successful termination, there, close to the little patch of timber
that grew along the stream near which the saddle boys had started to
make their lone camp.
It was almost ludicrous to see how quickly the man in the basket
started to get over the edge, and slide down that rope to the ground.
“He’s badly hurt!” exclaimed Bob, seeing the air-voyager tumble in a
heap, as though unable to stand upon his legs.
Both boys were at his side in another second. They had thought the
aeronaut must have swooned because of his injuries, or the sudden
sensation of relief after expecting the worst that could befall him;
but on their arrival he made a movement as though trying to get up.
“I guess I’m in a bad way, boys,” he groaned. “Feels like one of my
legs has been fractured. The balloon smashed against a rock as I came
over the top of the ridge away over yonder. That was what broke the
basket. It nearly sent me out, and ever since I seem to have lost my
head.”
“Well, you’re safe on the ground now,” said Frank, as he bent over
the injured man.
“We were just making camp when he sighted you,” said Bob. “And if you
say the word we’ll get you over to the place, and do all we can to
help you.”
“Oh! thank you, boys,” the other said, eagerly; “it’s very kind of
you. Perhaps with your help I might hobble along in some fashion. But
I can’t get to see a doctor any too soon to suit me.”
The two boys exchanged glances. How in the wide world they were going
to get the wounded man to a town, where his broken leg could be
attended before serious complications set in, neither of them could
even guess.
But they helped him get on his feet, and foot by foot make for the
spot on the bank of the small river where the tent was standing. He
groaned frequently, as though suffering great pain; but in the end
they managed to half carry him to the camp.
Here, on one of the blankets, he was made as comfortable as possible.
While the daylight still lasted Frank took a look at his limb;
leaving to his chum the task of preparing supper.
“It’s broken, you find?” asked the man, with great concern.
“Yes, sir, I’m afraid it is; and pretty badly fractured at that,”
Frank answered. “We’ll try and make you as comfortable as we can
to-night. In the morning perhaps some way for getting you to a doctor
may be found.”
At the time Frank did not know in the slightest degree just how such
a thing could be accomplished. But he was not one to cross a bridge
before coming to it. There were a good many hours between supper time
and morning; and surely one of them would be able to think of some
remedy.
As they had been sent off on a very important errand to Cherry
Blossom Mine, where it was suspected that strange things were in
progress, it was hardly to be expected that they could spare the time
needed to take this stranger to the nearest town, some twenty miles
down the river.
Still, both boys were tender-hearted, and apt to strain a point
rather than appear cruel toward a fellow human being.
“Is there any way to save the balloon?” asked Frank, wishing to
divert the attention of the groaning aeronaut from his own pains, to
some other object in which he might take an interest.
“Hang the balloon!” the man said, angrily. “I never want to set eyes
on one again. I was a fool to believe I could play the part of an
aeronaut. It’s nearly been the death of me; and all for nothing; all
for nothing!”
Frank, of course, could not imagine what the man meant by those
words. He seemed to be deeply moved, as though some pet scheme which
he had been trying to carry out had proven a dead failure. Perhaps he
was an explorer, and had hoped to investigate the secrets of those
gaunt mountains which had never been climbed, and which might be rich
in precious ores!
Frank bathed the injured limb as soon as he could get some warm
water. There was really nothing else he could do, not being a
surgeon. Of course many cowboys can perform rude operations, when
stern necessity requires; and Frank had before now, set a broken
bone fairly well. But in this case it was a compound fracture, and
splinters of bone would have to be taken away before the process of
healing could begin.
Bob, meanwhile, managed to get supper ready. He announced the meal
even as Frank finished his labors in connection with the wounded
aeronaut.
“Perhaps you might be able to eat a little; or at least have a cup of
coffee,” Frank remarked, after he had propped the other up against a
tree.
Somehow the man looked a little more cheerful. His leg did not hurt
so badly, for the numb stage had set in; and so long as he could
remain quiet it would not be so bad.
“This is mighty nice of you two boys,” he declared, showing that he
felt he owed them more than common gratitude. “Yes, I haven’t eaten
a bite for many hours, and that coffee certainly smells good. I will
try a little. I’m beginning to pick up hopes that after all I may be
able to pull through.”
So Bob poured out a cup of the fragrant Java, and brought it over to
where the wounded aeronaut lay.
“How will you have it, Professor?” he asked, “with condensed milk, or
plain black?”
“A little of the milk, please, my boy; and as I was just saying to
your comrade, I owe you both a heavy debt. After all, a man’s life is
worth more than anything else. But don’t call me Professor, for I’m
not anything of the sort. Jared Scott is the name I answer to; and
I’m from Iowa, though long out in the wild and woolly West. May I ask
your name, and that of the fine fellow who made me so comfortable?”
“My name is Bob Archer,” readily responded the other; “and my home
used to be in Kentucky. My chum has always lived here in the cow
and mining country. His father owns a big ranch; and we’re right
now on the way to the Cherry Blossom Mine on business. His name is
Haywood—Frank Haywood.”
Bob heard the man give a low cry, and saw him staring, as though the
mention of that name had given him a great shock!