A CORDITE BOMB AND ITS WORK
In a moment the boys were hauling in the rope and Ned was back in
the cabin after a new bulb which he secured and attached in the
dark.
"Now give her a swing," he said as Bob again lowered the rope. "It
will make it harder to hit."
When Bob announced that all the rope was paid out Ned snapped the
switch again. In spite of the gravity of the situation all the boys
were tempted to laugh. A brilliant green glow shot down. An
emerald circle of light flooded the ground beneath.
"If anyone sees that they'll sure think it's a drug store,"
suggested Bob.
"'Or a sign of the Great Spirit, perhaps," added Ned soberly, "it
may help us in more ways than one, if Indians are--"
"Look," hoarsely shouted Alan, "there, over there!"
But his words were superfluous. The three boys saw the same thing.
And then as the wide swaying of the bulb swept the gnome-like
picture in green from view Ned threw himself over and shut off the
engine.
Not a hundred feet beneath the brilliant bulb the precipitous bank
of the river had again shot into the circle of light. At the very
edge of the cliff stood the big freight wagon. Behind it, between
the wagon and the steep river bank, stood two horses. At one end
two more lay prostrate on the ground. In front a light barrier of
boxes and barrels rose a few feet from the ground. And there, a
rifle at his shoulder, knelt Elmer Grissom, their friend and
servant. Buck was nowhere in sight.
Their worst fears were realized.
As the dramatic picture flashed from view each boy knew that it was
time to act.
"What's to be done?" exclaimed Alan, his voice choking.
"There can't be many of them," answered Ned finally, as if thinking,
"or they would pushed their attack. If we could locate them the
rest would be easy. Let Bob take the wheel and try to get over the
wagon again; I have an idea."
The Cibola again answered the rudder and circled, Ned flashing the
bulb until the river came beneath them. This required but a few
moments, but, before the craft had gathered momentum on the way
back, there were four shots almost together about three hundred
yards to the right of where they supposed the wagon stood, and a
quick reply from the river bank.
"Our light did it," exclaimed Alan, "they are rushing the
barricade."
"Indians don't rush together, if it is Indians," replied Ned. "Keep
on up the bank, Bob. It's risky for Elmer," he added with a husky
voice, "but we've got to take chances."
Again the light flashed. Ned and Alan hurried to the bridge.
Within its circle and almost together, sealing the seamed and hard
bank of the river, were five dark figures. As the powerful light
encircled them the crouching figures sprang backwards. But they
were not quicker than the alert and prepared Ned Napier. A small
round object shot downward from his hands. The glare of flame as
the missile struck true and the thunderous roar that hurled the big
bag of the Cibola sideways told that the cordite bomb had done its
work well.
Bob was speechless. Ned and Alan were already in hurried
consultation. They could not count on fortunately finding the other
besiegers all together, "'and there are at least four more," said
Ned. The rescue of the lone besieged lad was not an easy problem.
The boys believed themselves now just above the wagon again, but
they were afraid to draw possible fire to the barricade by showing
another light.
The hurling of the bomb overboard had shot the Cibola heavenward
like a bird. Before they realized it the aeronauts had mounted up
at least two thousand feet. They then began maneuvering to regain
their position. But this was not so easy. A flash of the suspended
searchlight gave them not a trace of their bearings and it was
plainly apparent they would have to use time and patience in
recovering the location of the besieged wagon. Using their best
judgment, they put the aeroplanes to work, and, circling slowly, the
Cibola gradually came nearer and nearer to the ground. After ten
minutes or more the car gave a sharp bound upward.
"The drag has touched the ground," exclaimed Ned.
The aeroplanes were righted, the engine was stopped, and again the
balloon was drifting. There was not a sound to guide the aeronauts.
The contact with the ground had broken the bulb and it was not
replaced. For aught the rescuers knew they might be again directly
over the wagon. Not a shot had been fired since the roar of the
explosion, but there was no reason to believe that the yet living
besiegers had withdrawn.
"More likely planning a final attack," suggested Alan.
Again a council was held.
"We've got to take the risk," said Ned at last in desperation; "we
can't do anything up here."
And then, with Alan's approval, the propeller was set turning again,
but so slowly that the big balloon was just moving under control.
The aeroplanes were also set to bring the craft nearer the ground
and, as a precaution, Bob was sent onto the bridge with an open
knife to cut away ballast if sudden ascent were needed. The drag
rope had been brought in. There were no means of knowing how near
the car might be to the earth and the suspense was decidedly trying.
"I guess I can come a little nearer finding out," exclaimed Ned
finally to the others in a whisper.
Alan did not know what he meant, but he resumed his place at the
wheel. Ned had disappeared in the dark.
"Where are you, Ned?" asked Alan anxiously at last.
The answer came from beneath the car.
"Only down here, but I'm going lower," Ned replied, again in a
whisper. "Be ready with that ballast."
A perspiration of fear broke out on Alan's body. He sprang to the
open trap door.
Just discernible in the darkness was Ned's slowly retreating form.
He was climbing down the twenty-five-foot rope landing ladder with
only his own strong grip and the spruce rungs to save him from
death.
There was nothing to be said or done. Bob did not know what was
going on below, but he knew that he had a task set for him, and in
the long silence that followed while the Cibola settled lower and
lower and drifted on and on in the dark he stood, knife in hand, at
the ballast bags.