TWO MEN OF THE AIR.
The news that all their trouble had gone for naught, and that Jack
had himself placed his rescue beyond their hands, struck the three
newcomers to the valley dumb for an instant. But at last Captain
Atkinson spoke:
“Of course, you have not forgotten me, Alvarez?”
“That is hardly likely, señor capitan,” rejoined Alvarez, a slight
smile playing across his swarthy features; “one does not forget such
encounters as our last one.”
“So I perceive. But this time you will not escape so easily. You are to
consider yourself my prisoner.”
The Mexican shrugged his shoulders.
“I am not in a position to attempt to escape,” he said resignedly.
“How did you come to be in this valley with Jack Merrill?” was the next
question.
Alvarez, who doubtless saw that his best course was to tell the truth,
launched into a fairly accurate account of the adventures on the
raft, and the thrilling descent into the Pool of Death. Ralph Stetson
shuddered as he listened. Walt looked almost incredulous. It seemed
hard to believe that any human being could have “shot” that awful
cataract and lived.
By this time it was dark, and, as it would have been too dangerous to
attempt using the improvised rope ladder at night, Captain Atkinson
decided to camp where they were. Alvarez was not bound, as his captors
deemed it impossible for him to escape. Instead, he sat around the fire
with them, and to anyone not knowing the circumstances he appeared more
like a friend or a member of the party than an alien prisoner.
But they had not counted on the wily ways of the ex–cattle rustler.
Even Captain Atkinson, old plainsman as he was, was completely taken in
by the seeming resignation of Alvarez to his fate. For this reason no
guard was placed on the man that night. This Captain Atkinson was to
regret bitterly some hours later, for, when day dawned, there was no
sign of Alvarez.
The Ranger guessed the truth at once. Alvarez had overheard their talk
about the rope ladder and the ponies which had been left tethered in
the grass at the falls. There was not the slightest doubt that he had
made use of the ladder in the night, and helped himself to one of the
ponies. If he had not taken all three they would be lucky, thought the
captain.
The boys were anxious to set off in pursuit of the escaped prisoner at
once, but Captain Atkinson made them prepare and eat a scanty breakfast
first.
“Alvarez must be miles away by this time,” he said, “that is, provided
he made the climb in safety.”
After breakfast no time was lost in striking out for the falls. The
ladder was just as they had left it, except that one of the cross
sticks had snapped, showing that someone must have climbed it in the
darkness and missed his footing.
“We are at least fortunate that he left the ladder,” said Captain
Atkinson. “I had a half–formed fear that he would have destroyed it.”
“Surely he would not have done such a dastardly thing as that!”
exclaimed Walt.
“All is fair in love and war, you know,” rejoined the Captain with a
smile, “and Alvarez is at war with us.”
“I’m not bothering so much about him,” said Ralph with a sigh, “in
fact, I think it was good riddance of bad rubbish to lose him. It’s
poor Jack I’m worrying about.”
“Let us hope that he has found his way to a settlement and that by this
time he is on his way back to camp,” said Captain Atkinson cheerfully.
“Why, it’s even possible that he may get there ahead of us.”
The cheery tones of their leader greatly heartened both the lads and
the climb up the ladder was made in good spirits. As soon as they
reached the surface they hurried to where the ponies had been tethered.
Walt and Jack’s animals were both there, but the captain’s had gone.
Pinned to one of the saddles was a hastily scribbled note on a bit of
paper seemingly torn from an old account book.
Captain Atkinson unfolded this missive and read it aloud. It was in
Spanish, but he translated as he went along.
“Dear Señor Capitan:
“Thank you very much for your consideration in leaving me a pony and
allowing me a chance to get out of that odious valley. Adios; possibly
we may meet again; till which time I am your devoted servant and
humble admirer.
“ALVAREZ.”
“Well,” laughed the captain, “that’s a characteristic bit of Mexican
writing. A man steals your horse and breaks his parole and then signs
himself ‘your devoted servant.’”
“What’s to be done now?” asked Walt.
“We shall have to take turns riding the remaining ponies double. It
will make our progress slow, but it is the only thing to be done. Let
us lose no more time but saddle up and get started at once.”
This was done; and half an hour later the three travelers had left
beyond ear–shot the sound of the falls that thundered unceasingly into
the Pool of Death.
* * * * *
The boldest of the unclean birds that surrounded Jack’s unconscious
form were quite close to him when in the air above, where some others
were still wheeling about before descending, there came a sudden
disturbance and flapping of wings. High above the highest of the
circling buzzards was what at first appeared to be merely a larger bird
of prey. But a second glance would have shown that besides size, this
new winged creature possessed many other points of difference from
the bird creation. Behind it streaked out a long trail of blue smoke,
and it could be seen that seated in it, between the wings, were the
figures of two men. It was, in fact, an aeroplane of the biplane type,
powerfully engined and commissioned by the Mexican government for use
as a scout ship to spy out the haunts of the rebels.
Its two occupants were Lieut. José Sancho and Lieut. Manuel Diaz of
the Mexican army. They had been flying since daybreak, scouting the
country thoroughly in search of information of the rebels’ whereabouts.
The great flock of buzzards had attracted their attention, and Lieut.
Sancho, who was at the wheel, while his comrade scanned the country
through field glasses, had steered the airship in the direction of the
great birds.
“Can you see anything?” he asked Lieut. Diaz as the airship drove in
among the birds, scaring them off with hoarse cries.
“Yes. There is something on the ground.”
“It must be some dead animal. No human being could have found his way
into this miserable desert.”
Lieut. Sancho was about to put the airship on its course once more when
his brother officer gave a startled exclamation.
“By the saints!” he exclaimed, “this is strange.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, what attracted those buzzards was no dead steer or horse.”
“What then was it?”
“The figure of a boy or a man lying face downward.”
“Is he dead, do you think?”
“It is impossible to tell.”
“Shall we descend and see?”
“We might as well, although, to speak the truth, I can’t conceive that
anyone could have wandered into this desert and lived.”
“Nor I. Still it is our duty to find out.”
“Undoubtedly. Let us land on that little hillock yonder and then we can
make an examination.”
Down swooped the great airship, landing without a jar on the bare
little hill Lieut. Diaz had mentioned.
As soon as the craft touched the ground the two Mexican officers were
out of it, and, after attending to the motor, hastened over the sandy
soil to Jack’s side.
“_Santa Maria!_ It is but a boy,” exclaimed Lieut. Sancho as he turned
the inanimate form over.
“_Todos los Santos_, so it is. A fine–looking fellow, too. But is
there any trace of life in him?”
For answer Lieut. Sancho shook his head mournfully.
“I fear we have come too late,” he said, bending over Jack to try to
catch the least flicker of life.