FIGHTING INDIANS WITH A SEARCHLIGHT
"Stop her!" It was Ned's voice in quick command. The young
aeronaut, peering over the side of the car of the Cibola into the
black night, had suddenly seen something that prompted the order.
It was a distant flash of light. This was followed by an echoing
explosion. The other boys heard the explosion and all instantly
knew that it was a shot from a firearm. Almost before Alan could
shut off the power Ned had disappeared into the cabin to help head
the balloon in the direction of the spurt of fire. The Cibola
slackened speed and they waited, drifting slowly toward the east.
Then, suddenly, and almost together came two streaks of fire and two
more explosions.
"One of them might mean a signal," said Ned gravely, "but they were
not from the same spot. If it were Elmer he would have the three
fires. If it is Elmer and Buck and they can't make a fire and are
shooting I am afraid it means trouble."
"It may mean Indians," suggested Bob, "and they may have put out
their fires for safety."
"They might even be holding off an attack of some kind," added Alan
anxiously.
Just then there was another crack of a firearm now a little nearer.
The Cibola was drifting directly toward the sound, but very slowly,
and would soon have lost all headway.
"I don't want to be presumptuous," said Bob in a low voice, "but
can't we land and find out what the trouble is?"
"We can find out without landing," replied Alan.
It was so dark in the cabin that the boys could only dimly see each
other, but Ned was groping about near the silent engine. In a
moment he had secured from the ammunition case a storage electric
light, and cautiously shading the lens with his cap he asked Bob to
hold it. Then he turned to his chum.
"I didn't know just how we would use our little drop light," he
began; "but it seems that the idea wasn't half bad. There is a
tribe of Indians not far from here that would steal a horse or cut a
man's throat quickly enough--the renegade or Southern Utes." As he
spoke he was digging in a chest extracting various small parcels.
"Not even the other Indians have any use for the Utes. And there is
only one thing to do. We must first find out if our friends are
below."
With the help of the flashlight Bob could we that Ned held in his
hand a large, high candle-power incandescent bulb and was adjusting
it in a silver reflector.
"With an electric light?" exclaimed Bob.
"Why not?" replied Ned. "And the help of our little dynamo."
Ned took the flashlight, held it under his coat, and crawled around
in front of the silent engine. "It's here," he explained for Bob's
benefit, "and I am just throwing the gear onto the propeller shaft."
"Well, if you are afraid to show this little light why aren't you
afraid to show a brighter light?" asked the observing reporter.
Alan answered him.
"We are only afraid because it might draw an attack from some
observer. Balloonists are never safe from meddlesome persons or
worse. But there isn't the same danger if the light isn't on the
balloon."
"Sure," said Bob. "I understand that. But you can't hold it very
far away."
"No," answered Ned, "that's why we braided two good copper wires in
our drag rope." As he said this he opened the trap door in the
floor of the cabin and feeling about in the dark soon had hold of
the coiled drag.
"I guess I'm dull," began Bob.
"No," interrupted Alan, "only you haven't given two or three years
to figuring out the possibilities of an air ship."
Ned was attaching the bulb, reflector down, to the end of the rope.
"That rope is three hundred feet long. A light at the end of it is
quite a way from our bag.
"Oh, I see," exclaimed Bob at last. "If we find Indians and they
shoot at our searchlight they are pretty sure to miss us."
"That is the theory," answered Ned.
And then the plan in Ned's mind was explained. The engine was to be
started at quarter speed, which meant that the sound would be
imperceptible; and, lying on the floor of the cabin, Ned was to
direct the movements of the ship, with Alan at the rudder wheel and
Bob at the aeroplane guider.
"A quarter to ten o'clock," said Ned glancing at his watch as he
shut off the concealed flashlight, "and now start her up."
As Alan started the engine and it began to turn the propeller they
could tell by the light breeze that the car was moving again, but
very slowly. The other boys could also hear Ned delicately paying
out the long drag rope. At last it was all out. Then Ned crawled
forward again to the dynamo and up to the partly open floor of the
car and whispered that he was ready. The multiple gear was already
speeding the little generator swiftly.
"Lie down on the floor and watch," murmured Ned softly, "I'm going
to turn her on."
Alan and Bob did so. As their two heads filled the open trap in the
cabin floor there was a click and then, as if some necromancy had
focused the sun on a part of the darkened world, a circle of light
seemed to spring out of the desert beneath. Yellow, with here and
there a ragged rock and a sage brush or two, the shadows of the
rocks and brush black like spilled ink, and the sand glaring back at
them with almost quivering brightness, the circle shot back and
forth as the light followed the swinging rope. But no living thing
was in sight. A click and all was black again.
"Nothing doing," exclaimed Bob.
"Wait," suggested Ned, "persons we couldn't see may have seen them."
Almost as he spoke there was another quick report.
"Did you see the flash, Alan?" asked Ned eagerly, for he had been
busy with the dynamo.
But Alan was already at the wheel, and again the car swung from its
course.
"Wait," he exclaimed, "turn it on again when I give the word."
After perhaps two minutes he gave the signal and again Ned flashed
the gleaming bulb. Again the circle sprang apparently out of the
black ground. As the car drifted forward the black blotched golden
sand ran the opposite way like a whirling panorama. A coyote
sprang, dazed, from a clump of bushes and back again, but that was
all.
"Give him another chance," whispered Alan, and the light flashed
out.
"Listen," exclaimed Bob breathlessly, "wasn't that a cry?"
Another moment and the sound came again.
"Elmer!" exclaimed the two air ship boys together.
The Cibola swung instantly at Alan's quick touch. Again the light
flashed. Sand and rock and brush. The brilliant circle of light
shot here and there, but the anxious watchers saw sign of neither
friend nor foe. Then like a flash the level plain dropped into the
sudden slope of a coulee and the darker shadow of water blotted out
the glare of sand.
"The river," whispered Ned. "Now watch sharp."
As the light was blotted out this time Alan swung the wheel again.
He knew instantly that they were on the wrong track, as they were
going east and crossing the Chusco. Elmer and Buck would not cross
the river. The camp was to be on the west side.
"Follow the river," ordered Ned quickly; "the west shore."
In order that the Cibola might be laid on the new course Ned threw
on the light switch again. As he did so and the light flashed there
was the sharp crack of a rifle and the light was gone.
"Turn her on," exclaimed Alan; "I want to get a line on the river
bed."
Ned laughed. "I'll need a new bulb first. Some one down below
turned it off."
"What?" exclaimed the other boys together.
"Shot out," calmly retorted Ned.