Long before evening came on Frank had completed his work, and
pronounced the aeroplane in as near perfect condition as it could be
placed.
Andy had some more prints to worry over after supper, but it was a
labor of love with him, and he never wearied of it. There was such a
fascination about seeing the many well remembered scenes flash up
before him, after he had dropped the paper in the tray holding his
developing solution, and then carefully manipulating them so as to
bring out the best possible results, that Frank declared he would
have to drag him to bed later on.
They spent a very pleasant evening. Mrs. Ogden played the piano, and
Frank was able to do some little execution with the violin which Mr.
Witherspoon himself could manipulate so cleverly. Andy thumped on a
banjo, and even sang a few college songs, such as the boys of
Bloomsbury High delighted to learn in anticipation of the time when
they would go away to Yale, Harvard, Cornell, or possibly Princeton,
according to the mood that influenced them in making a choice. When
Charley Woo was discovered by little Becky crouching in the doorway
and evidently enjoying the music, he was induced to bring a native
Chinese instrument, fashioned after the manner of a mandolin from
which he managed to extract some weird kind of music almost barbaric
in its way, which added more or less to the enjoyment of the
evening, and made the player superlatively happy.
As the door of the room where Alkali Joe lay upon his bed was kept
open, so that he could enjoy the music, they heard him clapping his
hands for some time after each air.
Purposely Frank influenced Mrs. Ogden to sing “Home, Sweet Home,”
with himself and Andy coming in on the chorus, as well as the sweet,
bird-like tones of little Becky’s voice. She gave promise of quite
some talent in the line of music, and would carol half the day in
her childish way.
And Frank listening heard no applause after they were through;
instead, there was a dense silence beyond that open door, as though
something about the song had touched the hardened heart of the cow
puncher, and started him to thinking of things that had long
banished from his mind.
Even Andy noticed the suggestive silence, and catching the eye of
his cousin, nodded his head in the direction of the room where the
injured man lay, while he smiled, as much as to say:
“That was a center-shot, Frank; you hit the bull’s-eye that time,
old fellow, and chances are that now he’s got to thinking, Joe isn’t
going to be able to forget again in a hurry. You mark my words,
there’ll be a call for paper and pen inside of a day or two.”
And sure enough, though there may be no further opportunity to
mention the matter again, on account of other stirring scenes that
await our attention, it can be stated right here and now that Alkali
Joe did write a letter home before another forty-eight hours had
expired. So that the little accident of his being pitched over the
head of his pony when the animal stepped into a gopher hole, while
going at a round pace, was the means of bringing joy to the heart of
a grieving old mother in a far-away Eastern State.
Strange that not one of them noticed a face that was pressed close
to the corner of the open sash of the window in the back of the
room, from time to time, a dark scowling face that was marked by
glittering eyes, which seemed to be fastened on the little sprite of
a girl whenever she danced across the floor.
No one dreamed of anything like danger, when the atmosphere seemed
so calm and delightful. But then, that is the way things often go;
and many times the gathering storm steals up unobserved, until there
is a savage burst of thunder, accompanied by a vivid flash of
lightning, startling every one by its sudden coming.
Finally Mrs. Ogden declared that the hour had grown late for little
Becky to be up; and as was her custom, the winsome child went to
each of the boys to kiss him goodnight.
After that Frank picked up a book, and interested himself in the
story; while Andy, unable to tear himself away from his beloved
camera work, started to print again, having another batch of proofs
from which he had not as yet taken pictures.
The face at the window did not appear again after the housekeeper
and little Becky left the living-room. It might be assumed from this
that the spy without had lost all interest in the occupants when the
child vanished from view.
Frank read on until he found his eyes growing heavy. Then with a
yawn he tossed the book on the table. “Ten o’clock, Andy,” he
remarked, as a gentle reminder.
“Oh! that isn’t late,” said the other, “you know, we go to bed at
all hours at our house at home. A doctor never knows when he can get
a night’s sleep; and that breaks up things in his family more or
less. But I’m on the home stretch with this batch of prints, Frank.
Give me a little more time, won’t you? When I get started with my
trays and chemicals I like to clean up a lot of stuff.”
“Ten minutes more,” remarked Frank, grimly.
“Oh! well p’raps I can get through then; but even if I don’t you
might sneak off, and leave me to put out the glim when I am
through,” the other went on to say.
“Not if I know myself and I think I do, likewise you,” chuckled
Frank. “Why, you never would come to bed till long after midnight.
It’d be just one more batch, and then another after that, to the
wind-up. I’ll wait for you, my boy. Ten minutes, and then we’ll
close up shop.”
Andy knew that his cousin would stick to his word; he had been up
against it more than a few times in the past, and so he hurried
matters as much as he could. When the ten minutes had expired he
begged for five more, as grace, saying that he would just spoil the
few prints that had to be finished if they were left in the washing
water until morning; and so Frank gave in that far.
When they were undressing, later on, Frank thrust his head out of
the window to look at the glory of the moonlight night, and wonder
what the boys were doing in the round-up camp, just then.
The night was now cool and pleasant, as they frequently are after a
hot day in Arizona, especially about the Fall season. Stars shone
softly above, and there the moon hung like a big lantern, lighting
up the earth below.
How many memories did it not recall to the Bird boys, every time
they looked up and saw that great yellow shield! Had they not looked
upon it under various periods of stress and peril in their own
lives; sometimes near the home town, and again it might be far away
in the mysterious country bordering the Magdalena river, down in
Colombia, where the tropical sun shone far hotter than it did here
in the Arizona regions.
Often the Bird boys were influenced to talk of these past
experiences, when the mood came upon them; but Andy usually became
more or less excited whenever he was reminded of these stirring
events; and tonight Frank wisely refrained from starting him going
by mentioning the memories that were awakened by that lovely round
orb.
The last thing he remembered Andy saying was that it promised to be
a good day for the little air voyage they contemplated taking on the
morrow; which caused Frank to chuckle, because in this arid country,
where it seldom rained, all days were good ones, save as the heat or
blowing alkali dust might bring discomfort in their train.
When Frank awoke again it was broad day. He no longer was troubled
with that dizzy feeling; and yet it seemed to him as though a weight
might be pressing down upon him. The air was unusually bracing on
this particular morning, too, so that Frank did not know what to
make of it.
Not being a boy given to such a things as the “blues,” he shook
himself with the intention of getting rid of this feeling and
sternly put it out of his mind.
They went outdoors to take a look around, while waiting for Charley
Woo to call them to breakfast. He was already up and doing, as the
smoke from the kitchen chimney told. Indeed, there was an
unmistakable smell of cooking in the air that caused Andy to sniff
eagerly, and remark:
“Tell me, don’t that coffee smell fine; and as sure as you live,
Charley Woo is going to give us a mess of his famous flapjacks, too.
When we go away from here, Frank, we’ll have to send that Chink
something nice, to pay him for all he’s done to make us happy while
on the ranch. I really think Charlie’d lie awake all night hatching
up some new mess to tickle us with. Uncle struck a treasure when
that moon-eyed Celestial came wandering along here looking for a
berth, when the tough punchers of the M-bar-M outfit chased him off
because he let a hair from his queue get in the soup.”
Presently the call came for breakfast, and the boys hurried in to
attack the eggs and bacon and pancakes that were spread before them;
together with butter, rolls, coffee, and genuine maple syrup, of
which latter article the ranchman was very fond.
They wondered a little that Mrs. Ogden was not with them, but all
the same proceeded to do full justice to Charley Woo’s cooking. The
grinning Chinaman waited on them with his customary agility, almost
anticipating their wants, and insisting on piling more flapjacks on
their plates as fast as they were emptied, until both boys had to
hold their hands over them and vow that they could not devour
another one for love or money.
“Suppose you go and knock on Mrs. Ogden’s door at the other end of
the house, and tell her the cakes will get cold is she doesn’t come
quick,” suggested Andy.
“Yes, I never knew her to be sleeping in so, since we’ve been here,”
added Frank, and yet as Charley Woo, who could make himself handy
about the house in the capacity of a man of all work as well as
chef, hurried off to carry out the suggestion, neither of the boys
had the slightest suspicion that anything out of the way was the
matter.
The first thing they knew about trouble was when they heard the
Chinaman shouting in a wild fashion; and jumping up, regardless of
the heavy meal they had just devoured, they ran through the passage
to where the sound came from, their hearts almost standing still
with sudden apprehension, they knew not what of.
The outer door of the two rooms which were occupied by the
housekeeper and little blue-eyed Becky was open, and as Frank and
Andy burst through impetuously, they saw Charley Woo, trying to
unwind some pieces of rope which had evidently been used to bind
Mrs. Ogden to the bed posts. A towel with which she had possibly
been gagged lay on the floor. The poor woman was in her wrapper, and
so completely exhausted that she could hardly make a sound. But
evidently she wanted to tell them something important, for her lips
kept on moving; and Frank, bending down managed to catch the sense
of the whispered sounds.
No wonder his face was white as he turned his head, and looked at
his cousin.
“She says little Becky has been kidnapped!” was what he flung at
Andy.