A GAME OF TAG STARTED.
Carl walked over to where Kit lay under the shelter-tent and, seizing
him by one leg, drew him forth into the sunlight.
“It’s all right, Kit!” he exclaimed. “We’ve decided that you did a
mighty good thing in locating Phillips. We know where he is now, and so
it will be all the easier to catch him.”
Kit rubbed his eyes sheepishly.
“I thought I’d given the whole snap away,” he said.
“You couldn’t have done a better job,” Carl insisted. “You see it’s this
way,” he continued. “Phillips and Mendoza are still unaware that they
have been followed to this locality. At least, we judge so because this
alleged ranger asked you concerning a third machine.”
“I begin to understand,” said Kit brightening.
“This third machine,” continued Carl, “is evidently operated by the man
who tried to destroy the _Louise_ and the _Bertha_ near St. Louis. He
came on from New York, the way we have it figured out, to warn the two
murderers of the steps which were being taken for their capture.”
“And we beat him to it!” cried Kit exultantly.
“Yes, we beat him to it,” replied Carl. “And here’s another reason,” the
boy went on, “why we think the outlaws have not yet communicated with
the messenger sent on from the east.
“If Phillips had known all the messenger will be able to tell him when
they meet, he never would have shown himself to you.”
“Jiminy!” exclaimed Kit. “Then I’d be up in that bear tree yet!”
“You might be!” grinned Carl. “Anyhow, you did a good job in locating
the outlaws for us. We know now that they’re in this section, and that
is a whole lot.”
“Then we must be somewhere near Two Sisters canyon?” asked Kit.
Carl replied that he believed that they must be, and Kit tumbled back
into the shelter-tent in a more cheerful frame of mind.
“There’s one thing about this situation that I’m not at all pleased
with,” Ben remarked, as the boys began working over their machines,
oiling, polishing and giving them a more respectable appearance
generally. “We saw this third machine cross the range and settle down
somewhere off to the south. My idea is that it can’t be very far away at
this time, and I’m wondering whether the outlaw who talked with Kit
won’t find it before night.”
“You bet he will!” exclaimed Jimmie. “That blond aviator who tried to
blow up our machines will find some way of letting the murderers know
that he has news for them.”
“Then why don’t we go and drive this blond aviator away?” asked Carl.
“I’d like to know how we can do that?” asked Jimmie.
“We might get up in the air and drop a few sticks of dynamite down on
him!” suggested Carl. “You know we always carry dynamite in small
quantities. He ought to be blown off the earth, anyway!”
“There’s no doubt about that,” Ben cut in, “but we ought not to be the
ones to do it.”
“Well, we ought to do something!” insisted Jimmie. “If that blond brute
gets to Phillips and Mendosa, we may as well trek back to little old New
York! We never can find them in all this mess of hills if they know
we’re doing the detective stunt.”
The boys discussed the problem for a long time without reaching any
decision. At last Ben and Carl went to the shelter-tent and fell asleep.
There had been very few hours of uninterrupted rest since leaving New
York, and the boys were really “about all in” as Carl expressed it.
Jimmie, thus left alone, climbed into one of the seats of the _Louise_
and sat for a long time in deep thought, his freckled chin resting
heavily in the palm of his right hand.
“I don’t know what the boys would say,” the lad finally mused, “but I’ve
a great notion to try it!”
He leaped to the ground and began a careful inspection of the _Louise_,
looking to every detail of the mechanism.
“I wish I knew whether he would or not,” the boy thought, a slight smile
coming to his face. “I just wish I knew whether he’d be fool enough to
do it.”
Next, Jimmie went to the convenience box under the seat and drew out two
automatic revolvers and a searchlight. He saw that the light was in good
working order and that the revolvers were loaded. After that he drew on
a belt stuffed with cartridges and again took his place on the seat of
the machine.
Looking about cautiously, almost furtively, at the shelter tent and the
_Bertha_, he saw Kit making his way toward him.
“Come on, Kit!” Jimmie called out softly, so as not to waken the others.
“I was just wishing you’d wake up. I want you to be a good little boy,
now, and watch the camp, and not associate with any more grizzly bears
until I come back.”
Kit looked into the boy’s face questioningly.
“And another thing,” Jimmie went on, “when Ben and Carl wake up, advise
them to go out and get a haunch of bear. You can show them where it is.
Bear steak sounds mighty good to me! Only for our excitement over the
discovery you made, I would have been out there long ago.”
“Where are you going?” asked Kit.
“Why,” replied Jimmie, “I’m just going out to exercise my horse. She
seems to be getting a little lame standing in the stable.”
“Why can’t I go?” asked Kit.
“You’ll have to watch the camp,” Jimmie answered.
Kit stood by the machine when Jimmie pressed the starter. Instead of
dropping back and clearing away, the lad bounded nimbly into the seat
and looked up at Jimmie with a twisted smile on his face. By this time
the _Louise_ was well under motion, the wheels humming softly over the
grass of the green bowl in which she lay.
“Jump!” cried Jimmie. “You’ve got to watch the camp, you know!”
Kit hung on tighter. The wheels of the aeroplane left the earth and the
propellers whirled softly in the upper air.
“Now you’ve gone and done it!” Jimmie exclaimed half-angrily. “Now I’ve
got to turn back and let you out!”
“I’m going with you!” insisted Kit.
“You’re likely to get your neck broken!” advised Jimmie.
“I guess I can stand it if you can!” responded the boy. “Anyway, my neck
is long enough to tie.”
Jimmie remained thoughtful for a moment, and then turned to his chum.
“Come to think of it,” he said, “I guess I would better take you along.
You always do seem to blunder into the right procession. You located the
outlaws for us, and now you’re going out to be the candy boy in the
sleuth game. You’re all right, Kit!”
“What are you going to do?” demanded the boy.
“Look here,” Jimmie declared. “We came out here to do some flying
machine stunts, didn’t we?”
“That’s the idea!” answered Kit.
“Well, we haven’t done any stunts yet,” Jimmie went on. “We just plugged
across the continent, half asleep all the time, like an old horse
pulling a cross-town car in New York. We’ve exercised our machines good
and plenty, but we haven’t had any real lively fun yet.”
“It’s kept us awake, anyhow,” suggested Kit.
“Well,” Jimmie went on, “the machine that followed us from New York is
in one of the canyons over to the south. You remember that we saw it
settling down in the darkness.”
“And it isn’t very far away, either,” suggested Kit.
“That’s the idea!” returned Jimmie. “It is so near at hand that this
imitation ranger you saw is likely to find it at any minute. If he does,
it’s all off with us!”
“So you’re going to bump into this crooked aviator yourself?” asked Kit.
“I aim to keep him busy all day!” Jimmie answered.
“Up in the air, I presume?” queried Kit.
“Exactly,” replied Jimmie.
“Then I ought to have stayed behind to watch the camp,” Kit mused,
regretfully. “The boys may sleep for hours, and some one may wreck or
steal the _Bertha_. You see,” the boy continued, “I thought you were
only out for a short spin, so I had the nerve to jump aboard.”
“It’s all right to have company,” laughed Jimmie, “and now,” he added,
turning on more power, “we’ll have to quit talking, for I’m going to
give the motor a tip to get a move on, and her conversation will drown
anything we have to say. But before I do this,” the boy went on, “I want
to pass you this automatic revolver, and tell you that if anything
happens to me I want you to catch hold of the steering apparatus as
you’ve been taught and keep going toward the camp.”
“I couldn’t run a machine on a bet!” replied Kit sorrowfully.
Jimmie laughed and turned on full speed. Just as the _Louise_ swung over
the edge of the cup which formed the round valley below, the boy saw Ben
and Carl, doubtless awakened by the starting of the motors, rush out of
the shelter-tent and wave toward them. It was evident that the two boys
left in camp did not think much of Jimmie’s unannounced excursion into
the air, for their greeting seemed to be more of a command to return
than anything else.
A mile away, Jimmie slowed down and, with a field glass, began a close
examination of every gully, canyon, and valley which he passed. Finally
the glistening planes of an aeroplane came to view, lying on a level
stretch of rock only a short distance from the main ridge.
“Here we are, now!” thought the boy. “Here’s the other machine! Now, if
I can only coax him out of his nest, and keep him amused through the
day, I’d like to know how he’s going to get time to deliver the message
sent by the underworld of New York to Phillips and Mendosa?”
As the boy slowed down again, he saw a figure running wildly around the
aeroplane below. He circled the little shelf, dropping lower at each
swing. Presently he darted away, as if satisfied with his scrutiny, and
the machine below lifted instantly and gave chase.
“And here,” mused Jimmie with a grin, “you’ll see the liveliest game of
tag ever pulled off in the air!”