A TRUSTY GUIDE
The young aviator had to do some explaining for the benefit of the
outlaw leader before the latter could understand what a searchlight was.
“Reckon there’s no spot safe for a free and easy fellow with all these
new-fangled contrivances,” remarked the man.
“I’d like to see that balloon, all the same,” observed one of his band.
“We’d better keep close to the safety line,” advised the leader.
“There’s a good deal of hubbub around, and we’d better watch out for the
MacGuffins.”
It was an hour later when the two men sent to Forestville came galloping
back into camp. They were hot, tired and dusty. Their steeds were
reeking, and dropped their heads in an exhausted way as their riders
drove up to the campfire and dismounted.
“Did you get the stuff?” inquired the leader.
“That’s what you sent us for, wasn’t it?” queried one of the horsemen.
“Well, there it is,” and he handed out a package.
“We had some trouble making the drug clerk understand how badly and
quickly we needed it,” remarked the other horseman, with a chuckle.
“When we told him that Forestville would be off the map in a few days if
he didn’t act lively, he produced results double quick.”
Mr. King examined the package. It contained two large glass tubes filled
with quicksilver. He thanked the men heartily. His hand went to his
pocket and his purse was half withdrawn to offer a reward, when he noted
a warning flash in the eyes of the leader.
“Don’t try to pay for what money wouldn’t get you if you weren’t
friends,” said the man, tersely.
“We are anxious to get back to the airship,” suggested the airman.
“Want to start right away?”
“Yes, if possible.”
“That searchlight signal will guide you?”
“Oh, surely. Besides, I think we could find our way without its aid.”
“Maybe. Just the same, I’ll go with you as far as the gap. That’s hard
to cross unless you know it pretty well, or hit a trail by accident, as
you seem to have done in getting here. Hi, there, saddle up four fresh
horses,” ordered the speaker to one of his men.
“This is pretty fine treatment,” declared the young aviator, as his
friends and himself found themselves in the saddle and the outlaw leader
piloting the way from the camp.
“It will take my wife a long time to forget all we owe you,” the leader
remarked more than once.
At the end of two hours’ travel, the latter stages of which were taken
through dark and sinuous windings along a densely-verdured ravine, their
pilot ascended a long slope.
“There’s your searchlight still going,” he said, pointing to the broad
waving flare in the sky. “I dare not go any farther with you for two
reasons,” he explained. “In the first place I’m over what we call the
safety line. In the next place I want to get back in time to start a
daylight hunt after those MacGuffins.”
“I feel sure we can find our way to the _Albatross_ now,” said the young
aviator.
“Say, that was a queer adventure, wasn’t it now?” spoke Hiram, as their
recent guide waved his hand in a friendly way and disappeared like a
flash back the route they had come.
“These rough fellows are true blue when you touch the right spot,”
declared the airman. “We seem to be on higher level ground than before.
Let us get along as fast as we can, so we can send the horses back.”
The outlaw leader had insisted that they retain the steeds. He had
instructed them to simply head them back homewards when they were
through with them.
“Don’t fret,” he had said, confidently, “they’ll be sure to find the
camp feeding trough before breakfast time.”
“This has been quite an adventure, as you say, Hiram,” remarked Mr.
King, as they trotted single file on account of the narrow course.
“With probably a lot more of it waiting us along the line,” added Dave.
“Yes,” assented Hiram, “I can guess it will be pretty lively if we cross
the Atlantic. Say, we’re getting near to the _Albatross_.”
This was apparent from the clearer radiance from the searchlight glow.
They rode on about two miles further.
“We can do the rest on foot, I fancy,” said Mr. King.
The party dismounted, arranged the bridles so they would not trail,
turned the heads of the horses homewards for them, and, giving each a
slap on the flanks, watched them dart away, rapidly.
The searchlight faded out before they had proceeded a mile. In fact, day
was breaking. The sun came up as they reached the bottom of a high hill.
“I remember this spot,” said the young aviator.
“Yes, we left the camp this way,” agreed Mr. King, casting a look about
and recognizing some landmarks.
“I suppose Professor Leblance has been mighty anxious about us,” said
Hiram. “I’ll have a great story to tell Mr. Grimshaw.”
Despite the arduous rigors of their all-day tramp and all-night
adventures, Dave and Hiram felt fresh and ambitious.
“We’re pretty near the top,” spoke the young aviator. “I’ll race you to
see who arrives first.”
“All right,” agreed Hiram. “Here we go.”
Dave showed the most endurance. He reached the summit, paused and waved
his hand triumphantly at his toiling rival.
“Hold on,” called Hiram. “Wait for Mr. King.”
“I’ll take a look first,” answered Dave.
The young aviator climbed over a low ledge of boulders. Beyond them was
a fringe of high bushes. Dave knew that, these passed, the _Albatross_
would be in view.
He pressed his way through the bushes and cleared the last obstruction
at a leap. Then the young aviator took one look, uttered a dismayed cry,
and fairly dived back in among the undergrowth, startled beyond
expression.