A KITE FOR WATCH-TOWER
“Hike!” cried Lieutenant Adeler, suddenly. “There’s a horrible
possibility. Most of the revolutionists are going northwest—and the
Widow Barston’s rancho is off in that direction—they’d never notice
it ordinarily, but they’re sure to, the way they’re going. Mighty few
men on it—it’s run by Mrs. Barston and her daughter.”
“You think—they’d attack, just to get even?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Gee—we’ll have to go help them,” cried Hike. “I’m sorry we let Duros
and his men go. How if I hurried after them, in the _Hustle_, and
brought them back?”
Hike’s suggestion didn’t seem to lessen the anxiety of the
Lieutenant, who sighed, “Nothing doing. Remember—they’ve got orders
to report back to Torreas as soon as they can.”
“Say, how if we—we two and maybe a couple of cowpunchers—went over
to the Widow’s ranch, in the _Hustle_, and hovered over it—just the
sight of the machine would scare off any stragglers.”
“Good idea—but, no, we haven’t got much gasoline left.”
“That’s so,” admitted Hike. “Not enough to hover for long. But SAY!
Hover—hover—that gives me an idea. Get into the _Hustle_.”
“What?”
“Yump. Come on. Will you? Would you mind? I’ve got a way to protect
the Widow’s ranch, and it won’t take _any_ gasoline, after we get
there! We’ll try the greatest experiment the _Hustle_ has ever been
put through!”
“All _right_!” laughed the Lieutenant.
Five minutes later, he was driving the tetrahedral toward the Widow’s
rancho.
“Please bring her down in the ranch-yard,” directed Hike. The
Lieutenant did so—wondering what this experiment was to be.
Hike explained. Martin Priest had told him, once, that the
tetrahedral was the only aeroplane with so much stability that it
could be used as a kite, a real kite. Anchored to the ground, with
a long, heavy rope, it would probably float there, as long as the
anchor held, float up there happily forever, without even an engine
aboard.
But no one had ever quite dared to try it, before. It had to be tried
now. They had to save the Widow Barston from the hungry, angry,
straggling bands of rebels.
Out from the low, rough ranch-house, as they landed, came running a
thin-faced, frightened woman, and her old maid daughter. Both were
dressed in calico. They carried shotguns.
“Lieutenant Adeler—God bless you!” the mother shouted. “We were
afraid the rebels were going to get us. Two have been sneaking around
here.”
“We’ll watch for them. Have you some spare fence-wire?” asked Jack
Adeler, quickly.
They stared in astonishment at such a question, but ran in and helped
carry out several reels of wire.
Without saying a word, Hike and the Lieutenant began twisting
this into a long, thin, strong rope, and binding one end to the
gate-posts. The other end was hitched by a dozen small, twisted wires
to the freight-platform of the _Hustle_, and immediately the machine
plunged up into the air, with its steel “knife-string” glistening
like silver as it uncoiled below them.
The fence-wire rope was three hundred feet long, but they shut off
the motor at two hundred feet up. Instantly the _Hustle_ floated
along on the breeze, and came to a quiet halt when the anchor-rope
drew tight.
Hike and Adeler held their breaths. Would the machine come tumbling
down? Or would she become a kite? She did become a kite.
She floated up there, tugging at the rope, and swinging a little with
each breath of wind, but safe and contented, shining in the sunlight.
“Bully, Hike, old man!” cried the Lieutenant. “You’ve given us our
watch-tower.”
From even two hundred feet up, they could see miles across the
desert, and they watched for the rebel bands, through field glasses.
Three times they saw dust-clouds in the distance, but each time the
riders veered way off to the west as they made out the threatening
tetrahedral poised in air.
When night came on, they camped—but not on the ground; no, indeed,
not when they had a comfortable _Hustle_ to sleep in! Coffee and
flapjacks were made on the electrical stove, after running the engine
for a few minutes to set the electric motor going, and then Hike
crawled under a blanket, while the Lieutenant took the first turn
watching.
So they hung at anchor till toward noon of the next day—two hundred
feet up in the air. Then they left for the Lieutenant’s rancho, got
their things, and within an hour were whirling northward, bound for
Santa Benicia.
* * * * *
They were nearing Los Angeles, running easily and steadily at a
hundred miles an hour, at dusk. The Lieutenant was driving.
Hike felt uneasy. The engine did not sound quite right. He could not
make out quite what the trouble was, however.
Suddenly came a quick crash, from the engine. Hike knew that
something had broken. Then the sound of back-fire, from a cylinder.
He dived from his seat, and slammed off the emergency-cock.
Instantly, the flow of gasoline stopped, and the motor was dead.
He expected to have Jack Adeler ask “What did you shut off the cock
for?” He didn’t know just what he would answer.
But the Lieutenant merely planed down, circling till he could land in
a patch of sand surrounding an orange-ranch.
As they stopped, the Lieutenant wiped his forehead, feverishly. Hike
was astonished to see his face pale as a ghost’s, in the twilight.
“Whew!” puffed Adeler. “Close call. Do you know what might have
happened to us, if you hadn’t shut off that emergency-cock just in
time, Hike?”
“Why, no—but I thought there was some fire coming from one of the
cylinders.”
“There sure was. You know, on these motors with revolving cylinders,
the exhaust-valve works automatically on a spring. Well, that spring
broke. That let the fire spurt out—and it might have reached the
fuel-tank. Know what might have happened then? Remember reading about
several different aviators that got burned up, machines and all, up
in the air? Well, fire reached their fuel tanks—that’s all. If you
hadn’t jumped quick, every last plane might have been blazing, by
now—and we burning alive, or blown to pieces. Hike, somehow, I’m glad
you jumped quick!”
Hike didn’t say a word. He merely sat down and imitated the
Lieutenant, by wiping his forehead.
Then he got up, as if very tired—he really was a bit wobbly, yet,
after thinking what they had escaped.
“I guess I’d better see if we can’t get hold of a ranchero and a
team, and get driven into the city, and have a spring sent out.”
“Yes, go ahead,” said the Lieutenant.
It was nearly noon, the next day, before he was able to send out a
man with a repair-kit and assorted springs to the Lieutenant. Then he
caught a train for San Francisco.
At last he was bound for the Academy again. For the first time
since he had started for Mexico, he really remembered that he was a
Sophomore at Santa Benicia, who might lose the glorious chance of
playing in the San Dinero game because of his trip south.
In a few moments, he had become very much of a Santa Benician. The
only question in the world was:
“Will they keep me out of the game? Will I be in decent trim to play,
if they do put me in? Have my wind and nerve been hurt by the last
few days?”
The fast train seemed scarcely to move, so anxious was Hike to get
back, and see where he stood with the coach and Captain McDever.