THE FIRST FLIGHT
The balloon was still sliding downwards and swiftly forward. For
several minutes the three boys stood in silence. Only the steady
whirr of the engine and a musical humming of vibrating wires could
be heard. Bob wondered if they were headed earthward again, for he
could see the approaching foothills widening out beneath. At last,
when they could not have been over five hundred feet from the
ground, came the quick order:
"Right the planes."
Bob was almost caught napping, for he was busy looking through the
window. But his hands responded instantly, and he almost choked
with chagrin to find that he had started to throw the lever the
wrong way. But his recovery of himself was instant and with a
desperate pull he forced the guiding planes back horizontally. The
glide downward stopped and the Cibola shot forward with renewed
speed.
On the bridge Ned held a fluttering chart before him.
"How is she heading?" he called to Pilot Alan at the wheel. With a
glance at the compass before him Alan promptly responded:
"Nor'nor'east."
"Make it north by east."
A quick slight movement and a strain told that the alteration had
been made.
"North by east it is," sang out Alan.
"Keep her there," was the echoing response.
Bob was thrilled. Every word was to him a joy. Everything had
happened so quickly that he hardly knew what it all meant, but he
was happy. Even the sudden discipline pleased him and he was glad
to be a part of it. The knowledge that a younger boy was giving him
orders did not bother him. He had skill in his own line, but he saw
and realized that in the Cibola Ned Napier was in charge and meant
business.
For some time then no word was heard. The Cibola, speeding, swiftly
onward, had crossed the low foothills and was pulling herself
through the almost breezeless air like a modern liner, five hundred
feet above the ground. She was holding her course beautifully.
Then Ned appeared and tested the gas exhaust and oil feed of the
engine.
"Were you ever in a balloon before?" he said when he had finished,
turning sharply towards Bob.
"Never," answered Bob, glad enough for a chance to say something.
"Have you any matches?" somewhat sternly asked the commander of the
Cibola.
"Sure," replied Bob reaching in his pocket and finding one.
"Any more? All of them."
Surprised, Bob searched his clothes and discovered a few more which
he obediently handed over to his superior officer. Noting the look
of surprise in the reporter's face Ned laughed.
"The first rule in a balloon is 'No fire.' But beginners forget,
sometimes; we can't take this chance with you."
"Take anything I have got," answered Bob with his old smile, which
had now been in eclipse for some time, "and if I can speak at last I
want to say that you boys are white, clean white, through and
through. Didn't you need that ballast?"
"We may need it badly," said Ned, laughing. "If it should become
necessary I suppose you won't mind if we throw you overboard."
"No," retorted Bob, "not if it is a little at, a time. But you're
bricks--both of you--if I thank you I'll cry." The tears were again
in his eyes.
"Well, it wasn't the thing to do, I suppose," said Ned turning away,
"but you looked so hungry to go, and I knew what it meant. So I
thought we'd just give you a little ride up to the camp."
"Yes, of course," answered Bob slowly as his hopes fell. "Put me
out wherever you like," he added.
"You can go up now and have a look around," said Ned at last, "both
of you. I'll take the wheel."
The relieved boys scrambled onto the bridge deck. Night was coming
on and the mountains to the west were already black. Evening
shadows were lengthening on the sloping plains beneath and a gentle,
rising breeze flapped the flag and pennant and swayed the bag above
them. Beneath, the Chusco wound its half dry course and off to the
east a blue haze, melting into the unending sand, told of a treeless
and waterless waste.
"And there," exclaimed Alan at last, pointing off to the northwest
where snow-capped, ragged peaks rose out of a black jumble of
mountains, "are the Tunit Chas and the land of our dreams.
To-morrow--"
"One moment," interrupted Bob quickly. "I think you are forgetting.
That is your secret and not mine."
Alan flushed. "I forgot," he said with a stammer, "and I thank
you."
"I can't afford to make you sorry you brought me," added Bob, "and
you are not going to be."
There was a little jar. The propeller slackened a trifle, and Alan
explained that Ned had headed the Cibola another point into the
freshening breeze.
"Steward," said Ned from below, "it's seven o'clock and I'm hungry.
Besides, it's getting pretty dark down here."
Alan and Bob looked at each other and laughed.
"That certainly means me," exclaimed Bob, and both boys clambered
below. With Alan's help Bob made his first examination of the store
room.
The meal was rather haphazard, as the boys, carried away by the
excitement of their new flight, had neglected to eat when it was
light. But water and hardtack were easily accessible, and Alan,
taking the first two cans at hand, found happily that they contained
sardines and veal loaf.
"We'll eat on deck," suggested Ned, as he set the wheel and had
another look at the engine, which had not missed a revolution.
The night that greeted them was magnificent. The moon was not yet
up, but the stars were scintillating in the inky sky and the deep
silence of the clouds and desert was about them. Bob gazed as if
spellbound. The charm of the night appealed to him as it did to Ned
and Alan; but with it his brain formed phrases--"cloudland by
night," "a dash to the stars." The reporter in him was thinking
"copy."
"Hey, there, wake up!" cried practical Ned.
Bob flew to his task; with a turn he had the veal loaf can open and
had dumped its contents in the wooden plate held by Alan.
In another moment he would have thrown the empty can overboard but
the watchful Ned, ready for another lesson in aeronautics, caught
his hand.
"Don't you like the route we are taking?" laughed Ned.
Bob's face showed he did not understand.
"The loss of the weight of that can might send us sparing upward a
thousand feet," explained Ned dryly, "so don't cast over ballast
until you get orders."
Bob shook his head. "Well doesn't that beat all," he exclaimed.
As night fell and the air grew heavier, the barometer showed that
the Cibola had a tendency to rise. The aeroplanes were readjusted
and then for an hour the craft sped on untouched. At eight o'clock
Ned said:
"We haven't traveled over eighteen miles in an hour and we've been
afloat four hours. If we are still over the Chusco and Elmer and
Buck are at the appointed place we may be within ten or twelve miles
of them."
"They are going to burn three small camp fires set in a triangle,
you remember," remarked Bob.
"Therefore," suggested. Ned, "all keep a sharp lookout."
At half past eight Ned showed some concern. No lights had been
sighted and the reckoning showed that they must be within two or
three miles of the probable location of the camp. Another fifteen
minutes went by, and yet no signal fires were seen. They had now
passed over the junction of the two rivers, if their calculations
were right, and Ned and Alan were in a quandary.
"It's no use to go on," commented Ned; "so we'll just make a wide
circle and see what we can find."
It was also useless to look below. In the darkness there was no
sight of either river or desert.
"It we don't pick them up in that way," continued Ned, "we'll
descend and tie up for the night."
Both Ned and Alan went below, and with the engine shut down to half
speed the Cibola was turned on her course in a wide sweep. Bob
alone watched with anxious eyes, until he was joined in a short time
by Ned. There was no sound but the soft chug-chug of the engine,
and for some time neither spoke. The breeze of the early evening
had died and there was not a breath of air. Alan in the dark cabin
below held the wheel and Ned and Bob alone, hanging over the side
net, watched and listened in vain.