A RACE THROUGH THE NIGHT
"All right. Stand clear, please!"
The aeroplane had been tuned up, and now, panting like an impatient
horse, it was ready to be off on its dash for Monument Rocks. But
the crowd stupidly clustered about it like bees round a rose bush.
The delay was maddening, but Peggy dared not start for fear of
injuring someone.
"Won't you please stand aside?" she begged for the twentieth time,
but the crowd just as obstinately lingered.
Suddenly an idea came to her. She cut out the mufflers and
instantly a deafening series of reports, like a battery of Gatling
guns going into action, filled the air. Tense as the situation was,
neither Peggy nor Wandering William on the rear seat could keep from
laughing as they saw the effect the bombardment of noise had.
The inhabitants of Blue Creek literally tumbled all over each other
in their haste to get out of the way. Five seconds after the
deafening uproar commenced a clear path was presented, and, before
the crowd could get used to the sound and come surging around again,
Peggy started the aeroplane up. Amid a mighty shout it took the air
and vanished like a flash in the gathering dusk. The race against
time was on.
Fortunately the telegraph poles along the right of way acted as
guides, for, in the gathering darkness, the tracks were hardly
visible. Peggy did not dare to fly too low, however, for it was
only in the upper air currents that the monoplane could develop its
best speed.
But even with all her care she pressed the machine too hard, for
half an hour after their departure from Blue Creek they had to
alight to allow the cylinders to cool. Bud's makeshift stop for the
leak, however, was acting splendidly, and Peggy mentally stored it
away as a good idea for future use.
The delay was annoying to the point of being maddening, but there
was no help for it. To have taken the air with heated cylinders
would have been to court disaster. While they waited out in the
lonely Nevada hills beside the single-track railroad, Peggy's mind
held a lively vision of the train speeding toward Monument Rocks and
the Assay Office, bearing with it the stolen papers carried by Red
Bill's agent.
At last, after what seemed an eternity, they were ready to start
once more. Peggy lost no time in taking to the air. With her every
cylinder developing its full horse power, the aeroplane sky-rocketed
upward at a rate that made Wandering William hold on for dear life.
"W-w-w-what speed are we making?"
The question was jolted out of the passenger.
"About sixty," Peggy flung back at him.
"Then we ought to overtake the train. I understand it only makes
forty-five even on the most favorable bits of road, and the tracks
are pretty rough out in this part of the country."
On through the night they roared. It was quite dark now, and Peggy
had switched on the search light with which the aeroplane was
provided. It cast a white pencil of light downward, showing the
parallel bands of steel. Somewhere ahead of them, on those tracks,
was the train. But how far ahead? As yet no gleam of its tail
lights had come through the darkness.
All at once Peggy gave a triumphant cry.
"Look!" she cried. "It's the train!"
Far ahead gleamed two tiny red lights. They glowed through the
darkness like the eyes of some wild animal. But the occupants of
the aeroplane knew they were the tail lights of the train that was
carrying the stolen papers to Monument Rocks.
Peggy tried to put on still more speed, but the aeroplane was doing
its best. But fast as it was going, it seemed to crawl up on the
train at a snail pace. The tail lights still kept far ahead.
But although the gain was slow, it was, steady. Before another
dozen miles had been passed Peggy was flying above the train.
In the glare of the furnaces as the fireman jerked the doors open,
Peggy could see the engineer and his mate gazing up at them with
something of awe in their expressions. Aeroplanes were not as
common in the far West as in the East.
Suddenly the girl noticed a figure emerge from the forward door of
the front coach and clamber over the tender and drop lightly into
the cab. A sudden gleam from the fire door served to light his
features. Peggy recognized him instantly as the tall "romantic
bandit," the one with the red sash.
The girl saw him lean toward the engineer and thrust something into
his hand. It looked like a roll of bills. The next instant the
train's speed perceptibly increased. It was all the aeroplane could
do to keep up with it.
"He's given the engineer money, to go faster," exclaimed Wandering
William.
The tall figure now crawled back on the tender and gazed upward.
His hand glided back to his hip. The next moment there was a flash,
and a bullet zipped wickedly through the air past Peggy's ear.
"The coyote, he's firing at us!" cried Wandering William.
Z-i-n-g!
Another bullet sang by the speeding aeroplane. Apparently the
fireman and the engineer could not hear the shooting above the noise
of the flying engine, for they did not turn their heads. Presently
the fireman began shoveling on coal at a terrific rate. Sparks and
flame shot from the smokestack of the locomotive. They streaked the
night with fire.
"Is he trying to kill us?" exclaimed Peggy as another shot winged
past.
"I hardly think he'd risk that," rejoined Wandering William, "but
what he's up to is almost as bad. He's trying to disable the
aeroplane."
But before another could be fired the train began to slacken speed.
Ahead and below the aeroplane could be seen a cluster of lights.
"Monument Rocks!" exclaimed Wandering William; "here's where we play
the hand out."
Peggy, keeping a bright lookout for a good landing place, presently
espied a sort of plaza in the center of the town. It was
brilliantly illuminated by a number of arc lights and offered a fine
spot for landing. She decided to risk a quick drop and swung the
aeroplane downward at a rapid gait.
As the whirring of the propeller--like the drone of a giant
locust--resounded over the town, people came pouring out from houses
and shops to witness the descent. The crowd gathered so quickly that
Peggy had difficulty to avoid hitting some of them. However, she
managed to bring the aeroplane to a standstill without an accident.
A local policeman came up as they stopped, and to him Peggy
entrusted the machine. Followed by Wandering William she darted off
across the plaza and made for a cab stand immediately across it and
just outside the depot. As she rushed up to the solitary rickety
hack that was standing there and was about to step in a tall figure
came rushing out of the station. The train had just pulled in, and
long before its wheels had stopped revolving he had leaped from it.
"Get to one side," he shouted, grabbing Peggy's arm roughly and
swinging her aside. "I guess I'm first on this deal."
"What do you mean," demanded Peggy angrily; "I had this cab first."
"But now I dispossess you of it this way!"
The ruffian had his hand raised to strike when something happened.
A lithe, muscular form glided under the upraised fist, and the next
moment there was a sharp crack as the newcomer's fist collided with
the other's chin.
He went staggering backward and fell in a heap on the sidewalk.
A tall man with a broad brimmed hat came bustling up, followed by a
small crowd attracted from the aeroplane by the disorder.
"Here, here, what's all this?" demanded the tall man in an
authoritative tone. "What does this mean?"
"That this man I've just knocked down is under arrest for
participation in the Laredo stage robbery and for numerous other
crimes, including the larceny of some location papers he was about
to file."
The words came from an athletic young man who had felled Peggy's
assailant. The girl looked up at him. In the electric light there
was something familiar and yet strangely unfamiliar about his
features, and his keen, kindly eyes.
"Why," exclaimed Peggy wonderingly, "it's--it's--"
"Wandering William, minus his wig and goatee, otherwise Sam Kelly,
of the United States Secret Service," rejoined the other with a
merry laugh. "I guess I'll go out of the doctor business now, since
I've nabbed one of the men I was after. Now then, you rascal,"
addressing the "romantic bandit," who had scrambled to his feet,
"where are the rest of Red Bill's precious gang?"
"I don't know," sullenly rejoined the prisoner.
"Oh, yes you do; but first of all give me those papers."
"What papers?"
"The ones you brought here to file in the Assay Office."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes you do. Come now, or I'll ask the sheriff to search you."
With a very bad grace the outlaw dove into his pocket and handed
over a bundle of papers. Wandering Will--we mean Detective Sam
Kelly--took them and handed them to Peggy.
"Those are more yours than mine," he said; "we'll file them in the
morning or at any time there's no hurry now."
"Now then," he resumed, turning to the tall outlaw whose arms were
held by two of the sheriff's deputies, "are you going to answer my
question, where is Red Bill and the rest of them now?"
"Where you can't reach 'em in time to queer their game," came in a
voice of sullen triumph; "they're at Jim Bell's mine picking up gold
and silver."