“Right you are. Well, it’s great to see you, and your father wants to
speak to you. So long, Old Man.”
“So long, Jim, Old Scout; here’s to the membrane on your proboscis.”
“Aw, go on, that’s no way to say--skin on your nose,” Jim laughed.
“My son has not proved to be a very good student of slang,” the Don
chuckled, then, for several minutes the two spoke in that strange
language which Jim had not been able to attribute to any race. Finally
the father and son were finished, then the man moved to the further end
of the room. Again the two sat down before a dial board, but this time
the screen was more like a moving picture.
“Will this be yesterday--last night, I mean?” the boy asked.
“Yes, and perhaps it will answer your question.”
VI
OUT OF THE SKY
Young Austin waited eagerly for the photo record of certain
observations made every day in the laboratory. In a moment the film
had rolled to the beginning of the picture and after a few preliminary
scenes passed, Jim saw the buildings of the Gordon ranch appear, one
after the other. There were the barns, corrals, bunkhouse, the ancient
home and the root house a short distance away. Beyond, the cliff rose
in ragged ridges to the strip of table land which the boy knew so well.
He saw Carl Summers, the deputy, gun on his arm, and snowshoes on his
feet, moving cautiously as he made his rounds of the place in search
of a sign of the return of Arthur. The picture passed from the young
chap to other sections, lingered an instant on Pigeon Jute following
the deputy, and at last it revealed the outlaw emerging stealthily from
a long, tumbled-down building. Through the open door could be seen a
pile of furniture, and as they watched, Gordon returned to the room
where he fell to work piling the stuff into a deep hole at the further
end. That done, the young man covered it with burlap, earth, and
finally snow so that it looked as if it had been undisturbed and that
the drifts had come down through the broken sections of the roof.
“What do you know about that!” The boy exclaimed in astonishment, but
Don Haurea was occupied with something at the further end of the room
and made no reply. Keenly interested, Jim continued his observation,
and at last he followed Gordon into the old root-house where Summers
had made his headquarters. The sheriff’s assistant was nowhere near
the spot, and Gordon gave it an indifferent inspection. He hurried to
the end, moved the partition, and quickly stepped inside. He went at
once to the wall, which was later blown out, removed a section cleverly
covered with dirt, and then stepped hastily into the strange vault-like
room, where he pulled out numerous record books, ran his fingers
through them as if in search for something, which he did not find. He
examined the wall, then proceeded to tear the papers.
At this point the picture changed and Jim found himself watching
a group of men who were apparently in some part of Don Haurea’s
laboratory. They too were interested in observing Arthur Gordon’s
actions, but that part of the record moved to another point in the
laboratory, where two men were busy before a huge piece of machinery,
with a complicated looking set of dials and wheels. One of the men who
had been watching Gordon came close to them. He seemed to be giving
some directions, and Jim saw a pointer set, other wheels turned, then
a small tube of liquid was poured into a grooved opening, and the men
waited. Again the scene changed and Austin saw the new airplane land on
the cliff, and he watched with interest every move which he knew the
four of them had made right up to the minute when they left the dug-out
with Carl and Jute running on ahead. Their own part in what followed
was cut off; the picture showed the men in the laboratory and as they
stood before the mysterious machine they were observing the inside of
the dug-out.
Gordon was coming stealthily out of the small armoured room. He stopped
to listen at every step, then he heard an odd whirring and jumped
forward as if he recognized the sound as a warning, or as if he had
stepped on a powerful spring. He leaped furiously to the partition,
sprang out, raced through the room, his hand pressed over his face,
then came the rumble, the place shook, the further end boomed and
heaved convulsively, while the young fellow ran for his life until
he reached the cliff, tore madly toward the plane, stopping barely
an instant to fire at Kramer. In a moment he was jumping into the
cock-pit, but Jute caught his ankle. With an oath, Gordon kicked out
and fired, started the engine and the plane leaped into the air. The
Indian was in a heap on the snow but he crawled painfully between the
crevices.
“Oh, now I know why you examined those crevices.” The Don had joined
him and he nodded quietly.
“I thought the Indian would have a camp in the woods somewhere and
would get to it, but I decided to make sure before we left last night.”
“Then the place was exploded from here?”
“Yes. Gordon was ready to leave and he had a bomb which he was setting.
He intended it to go off while Summers was alone so the young fellow
would be blown to pieces. Unfortunately we had to wait until you boys
and Mr. Kramer were a safe distance away, then when we disturbed the
bomb, it made a slight noise, which Gordon recognized, so he ran for
his life and managed to save it. He rigged up the explosive earlier in
the day and was going to start it while Carl was making his rounds, so
we decided to let the destructive thing be his own undoing; it seemed
the surest way of getting him.”
“Did you tell the sheriff he was there?” Jim asked.
“No. In order to do that we should have to explain how we knew the
fellow was there and it isn’t wise to reveal to the layman something
he cannot understand. We did hope to trap Gordon in such a way that he
could be captured, but when he showed the determination to kill young
Summers, we had to act quickly,” the Don explained, then added, “I am
very glad that your airplane has been found.”
“So am I. We miss the bird no end.”
“Well, now you understand exactly what took place, shall we turn our
attention to aeronautics?”
“Yes, sir, and I’d like to watch those chemical experiments.”
“Very good.” Presently the boy was seated in his own corner of the
great laboratory, a huge book on the table before him, and a collection
of shiny instruments and test-tubes waiting for use. He glanced at the
array affectionately, gave his head a little shake as he thought how
much he wanted to accomplish, then he set grimly to work, forgetting
everything else in the world. It wasn’t until Don Haurea touched him on
the shoulder to remind him that the hours had passed, that he glanced
away from his work.
“Zargo will run you home,” he offered.
“Thank you, sir.”
The next two days were uneventful, although they were full of
suppressed excitement because they were the last before Christmas,
and on every huge ranch great preparations were going forward for
the holiday. Kramer improved rapidly, and so did Jute, and at last
the great date arrived. Homes were decorated with greens, extra bells
were attached to harnesses, and cooks were putting the last touches on
feasts which were to be spread in homes and bunkhouses. The repaired
plane had arrived from the shop early Christmas Eve, and the Flying
Buddies went gleefully off to Crofton for newspapers and mail, to say
nothing of packages which had accumulated at the post office. They
came back as laden as a pair of Santa Clauses, and the entire evening
was spent in preparations for the next day. No word had come from the
sheriff, so the boys knew that young Gordon had made good his escape.
Not even a trace of the parachute had been discovered.
Every man working at the Cross-Bar and the K-A was at headquarters for
the festival, and because of the tenderfoot guest, a special party
was being arranged--a real wild-west affair with rodeo exhibitions
such as only real wild west men can put on successfully. The Austin
family, even if there were no little members, were up betimes, and Mom
insisted that breakfast be eaten before presents were opened. Everybody
was in high spirits, and the air was filled with shouted greetings
which lingered in the clear atmosphere. The meal was barely finished
when from somewhere came the familiar drone of a racing motor. The
Flying Buddies glanced at each other, then by one impulse ran out to
see who might be arriving by airplane. It took only a moment to locate
the tiny speck in the blue which they watched as interestedly as if
they were a pair of small boys. Cap Rock was too far west for them ever
to see the air-mail-men, and pilots flew their planes over that section
very rarely.
“Gosh, she’s a bird,” Bob exclaimed.
“Looks as if she’s pure silver,” Jim added, and in the bright sunshine
the plane did look exactly like that, highly polished. She was rapidly
getting nearer, but as yet they could not make out her pilot. However,
they did not think much about that for the machine was two thousand
feet up and the man was probably protecting himself from the cold.
Without diminishing her speed she came straight toward them and in a
moment they decided that she was going to pass over, but to their
surprise she executed a wide graceful curve, dipped as if she were
making a salute, banked, zoomed swiftly, curved again, dived and began
to descend in narrowing spirals.
“She’s decorated like a Christmas tree,” Bob laughed. “Somebody’s
coming to our party.”
“Somebody is a lucky guy if he owns that machine,” Jim gasped in
admiration. The motor had stopped and the beautiful plane was dropping
lightly into the clear space only a few feet away from the house. With
one impulse the boys leaped across the veranda, slid over the frozen
snow, and stopped at the same moment the plane did. Then they stared at
the stranger, and at length, stared at each other.
“There isn’t anyone in her,” exclaimed Jim incredulously. They were
standing by the fuselage, the cock-pit had a special transparent cover,
but no one was seated before the controls.
“See in the back.” There were two cock-pits, the machine was a
four-passenger, or three-passenger beside the pilot, and the Flying
Buddies walked around her, but the back was as empty as the front. They
even glanced at the rigging expecting to discover someone hanging on,
but not a soul did they see.
“Tell you what, bet somebody lost her. Remember, that’s the way our
plane came down, or it came something like that,” Bob declared.
“Sure. Well, we can soon find out about her. Gosh, isn’t she a beauty,
Buddy!”
“Boys, bring your guest inside,” Mom called from the veranda. “You
haven’t your big coats on.”
“Be with you in a minute,” Bob answered.
“By George, she looks as if she might have been made for Lindbergh.” It
took them only a moment to find a pair of small latches on the outside
of the cock-pit cover, but before they lifted it, Bob exclaimed.
“I say, if anyone jumped out of this he was mighty particular to close
the roof after him.”
“That’s so, but perhaps it snaps shut.” They lifted the cover, much as
they would lift the hood of an automobile, and they saw that the main
section folded into a long narrow space. Everything about the plane
was brand new. The seats were heavy shiny brown leather with lighter
shade trimmings. In front of the pilot’s seat the control board looked,
at first glance, like any other machine’s, but on closer inspection
they found it was equipped with several extra dials and indicators. On
each side of the cock-pit were a pair of long slender glasses. There
was a radio, for receiving and transmitting, speaking tube, hamper for
the traveler’s convenience. The mirror was the shape of a globe and it
had a reflector to cut off any part, or act as a protection for the
whole sphere. It looked to the boys as if the altitude meter registered
not only the height above the sea level, but it would automatically
change according to the nature of the territory over which it would fly.
“Why, Buddy!!!” Jim discovered a long white envelope hanging on one of
the parachute buckles and he detached it carefully.
“Does it give the chap’s name?”
“I’ll--why Buddy!” That was all Austin could say and he held out the
envelope, which he had turned over. “Look!” Caldwell stared, and read
mechanically.
“‘Merry Christmas to the Flying Buddies’--Flying?--Why Jim,
that’s--great guns--it can’t be our--Say, what’s inside that envelope?”
Jim was already opening it. He took out a folded sheet of heavy paper
that looked like some sort of parchment. Swiftly he scanned the lines,
then he jumped ten feet into the air and gave a whoop which bounded and
rebounded like a ball. Bob caught the sheet from his hand and read.
“Flying Buddies: Christmas
Gentlemen:
I hope to find a place in your hearts and that I shall be
permitted to serve you through many happy excursions above the
world. No man of your race has ever ridden in such a plane, but
I am built so that you will miss none of the pleasure of good
piloting. If you will be seated and replace the cover, it will be
my pleasure to show you something extra in joy-rides.
I have no name, so I can only sign myself, at your service!”
“Come a-hopping, Buddy,” Jim shouted. He jumped into the cock-pit, but
Bob hesitated.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“You haven’t a coat on.”
“The cabin is as warm as toast. Hustle, me brave lad, you are retarding
progress, which is sinful.” Bob took the second seat, which was
adjusted exactly the right size and shape, and Jim swiftly closed the
cover. The motor began to purr gently, like a dozen contented lion
cubs, and the plane lifted, spiraling in close circles until it reached
a thousand feet, then the nose was turned north and she shot forward
at a speed of nearly two hundred miles an hour. Austin was busily
examining the paraphernalia on the board before his eyes, while Bob
was simply too puzzled to do anything more than sit back and wonder if
he was experiencing some sort of fantastic dream. In ten minutes the
machine was dropping lightly in the Haurea front yard, where the Flying
Buddies saw Zargo and the Don waiting for them.
“You did not fear to accept the invitation,” Don Haurea smiled as Jim
shoved the cover from over the cock-pit.
“Not so that you could notice it,” Jim declared. “Wow, what a bird.”
“Glad you like it.”
“Who wouldn’t! Golly, Don Haurea, it’s a wonderful present, but it’s
pretty steep--”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Crazy about it.”
“My son and I both feel that the several services you Flying Buddies
have rendered us certainly warrant some token--”
“Token, great heavens, Don Haurea--oh, but she’s a beauty. How did you
send her over and bring her back?” Bob demanded.
“A very simple little instrument. You will notice one of the dials is a
little different color from the other controls. It is now set, in time
as it were, with a section of our plant here, and was controlled from
the laboratory. You have demonstrated that part; we will show you the
ordinary method of plane piloting in a very few minutes. One thing I
shall ask is that you do not mention the fact that she is equipped to
operate from a central power-control. There are five stations in the
world from which she can be directed, and in an emergency, even though
she ran out of gas she could be kept up. I’d suggest that you keep the
dial turned to the lowest notch, that will tune-in whenever you are
flying, and in case of accident it may save you some trouble.”
“Jinks,” Bob whistled.
“May I ask where the power control comes from? but I suppose it comes
from here,” Jim said.
“It did for today’s demonstration. There are five stations in the
world; four beside this one of mine. One is in South America, one in
India, one in China, and the other in England.”
“I suppose there are more planes like this one,” remarked Jim.
“A few.”
“Well, jinks--I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Just the same, we do think it’s mighty good of you--”
“That’s all that is necessary. Now, I must go inside. Zargo will tell
you how she works, then I expect, although I regret that you cannot pay
me a visit this morning, that you would better get back, for you are
A.W.O.L., and Mrs. Austin will be anxious.”
“She sure will, and Jim, they are waiting to open the packages,” Bob
reminded his step-brother.
“We’ll hustle.” It took Zargo only a few minutes to point out the
different parts and explain their use. At last the two were again
closed in the snug little cabin and Jim was in the pilot’s seat. He had
no difficulty getting home, but when they dropped down by their own
house, the elder Austins were looking for them.
“See what Santa Claus brought us,” Bob shouted. Then the gift had to
be admired, and although the two grown-ups thought it was a pretty
extravagant one, they could not protest against its acceptance.
“It looks to me as if I shall certainly have to learn to fly if the
other plane is neglected for I expect that you boys will scorn my
purchase,” Mr. Austin told them.
“We do not scorn your purchase, Dad, but learning to fly isn’t a half
bad idea. While Mr. Kramer is here, why not have him give you lessons?
He’ll be glad to.”
“And Mom, too,” Bob added.
“That is an excellent idea,” Mrs. Austin agreed heartily. “I have read
of women doing remarkably well and I should like to try.”
“Hurrah for you,” the boys shouted.
“We still have unopened packages,” she reminded them, so they trooped
into the house, and presently were having a gala time as gifts were
distributed by Bob, who was rather glad that he was the youngest member
of the family, therefore entitled to that privilege.
After the feast early in the afternoon, they wrapped Mr. Kramer warmly
in blankets so he couldn’t possibly take cold, then he was seated on
the fence of the corral from which vantage point he could have a first
class view of the rodeo put on by the men of the K-A and the Cross-Bar
ranches. Jim brought him some peanuts, so it would seem like a real
circus, and the young man from the north announced when the last horse
had made his bow, that it was the best he had ever witnessed.
“Seeing a horse do stunts like that makes me admire them no end, but it
also makes me feel that I am more at home in a plane. They do not buck
and snort--”
“They don’t,” Bob interrupted. “I say, where did you learn to fly? In a
kindergarten? The ones Buddy and I were taken up in did more kinds of
fan-fishing, and jumping than any bronc.”
“Well, of course they do put you through a course of stunts,” Kramer
grinned.
“And you have to do that for Dad and Mom,” Jim announced.
“I shall be very glad to do so.”
VII
PARTS UNKNOWN
During the two weeks which followed, the elder Austins, under the able
tutelage of Mr. Kramer, and the additional assistance of their sons,
became remarkably proficient in flying the ranch plane, also, the Sky
Buddies became thoroughly acquainted with the “Lark,” which was the
name of their own super-machine. Then the salesman removed himself to
Crofton, where his firm had a new plane waiting for him and he expected
to demonstrate it for prospective purchasers. Already the sheriff was
watching its performance with keen interest and it looked as if that
worthy might become the possessor of one of the birds. Although the
boys spent a good deal of time in the air, neither of them neglected
his studies with Don Haurea, and Caldwell could hardly wait until
spring came in order to put some of his information into practice. One
afternoon, Mr. Austin came out of his office with a letter which had
come in the morning’s mail.
“Oh, Jim.”
“Yes, sir.” The boy hurried to learn what was wanted, and presently
they were seated at the big desk.
“I may go to South America,” the man announced thoughtfully.
“Golly, what a trip that will be, Dad,” the boy exclaimed. “Be gone
long, sir?”
“I do not know. It’s a matter of business and I was rather hoping
that my part of it could be transacted from here, but I have received
a confidential letter in which one of my associates urges me to come
personally and look after my interests,” he answered thoughtfully.
“Taking Mom?”
“I do not believe I had better. I have no idea the sort of places I
shall be compelled to visit and I do not want to take her where she may
not be comfortable. There is always a risk. If it were earlier in the
winter, I should not hesitate, but it is a long trip, will take weeks,
and while I can rely upon my men to look after things here, I do not
see how I can get back before very late spring,” he said, as if he
were thinking the matter over instead of discussing it.
“Why don’t you go by airplane?” the boy asked. “Goodness, Dad, no sense
in wasting weeks.”
“Humph. That is a good suggestion, but I do not know that the air
service will help me. Although, come to think of it, I read recently
that they are running trips to the southern part of Chile--perhaps I
can get some information on the--”
“I say, Dad, what’s the matter with you? We have two planes right here
on the ranch. Furthermore, you can fly yours--”
“After a fashion. I should not think of attempting anything so--”
“No, of course not. I was just thinking that you could help out some of
the time. You aren’t like a tenderfoot in the air. We’ll take you in
the “Lark”--and it will be a grand lark--”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” his father hesitated.
“Didn’t we go traipsing all over the United States and Canada?”
“You did, and got into all sort of things,” Mr. Austin chuckled. “This
would have to be a very serious trip, few stop-overs, and return home
just as soon as I conclude my business. I don’t know about taking you
away from your studies.”
“We can take a couple of books along with the luggage. Now, Dad, don’t
be a kill joy. This business deal is important, isn’t it?”
“Very important to all of us,” the man admitted.
“All right, then, let’s all of us get at it as fast as we can. Nothing
can beat the “Lark”, and with two pilots--why Dad, Henry Ford hasn’t a
thing on you,” the boy urged.
“I guess I’d better talk the matter over with Mother.”
Such a project could not be undertaken without very serious
consideration and preparation. When the idea was presented to Mrs.
Austin, she, too, hesitated about letting the Flying Buddies pilot such
a trip, but she did understand the importance of her husband’s arriving
at Cuzco in Peru just as quickly as possible, and that the shortest
time by boat was eighteen days. Usually it took longer; depending upon
the weather conditions. Added to that must be the time necessary to
get to the nearest port, securing reservations at a season of the
year when ships sailing to southern points were booked up full before
leaving the north. By airplane it would take at least two weeks less,
which was a big item. Bob added his voice to the plea that he and Jim
be permitted to go.
“Goodness, Mother, didn’t we go all over the country, find our way and
come back without so much as a broken wire?”
“Yes, you did, but you got into so many adventures. Of course you
didn’t have anything serious happen to you, but you were in your own
country, or Canada, which is almost the same, and you did not have to
travel over long stretches of water,” she persisted.
“It’s just as safe over water as land, Mom. We’d stop at some port to
be sure that everything was ship-shape before we started to cross, and
it can be made in several hops, not all at a clip, as Lindbergh did.
His mother didn’t object, so you be a good sport, please.”
“His mother must have had some awful hours. I’m sure that every minute
of them seemed like a life time,” she sighed in sympathy.
“Perhaps they did, but we’ll be just as cautious as Lindy was. We’ll
have everything in proper order, and take good care to keep it that
way,” Bob assured her. “Besides, if Dad can get there ahead of time,
and those fellows are planning to put something over on him, we’ll get
him there early and he can give them the laugh. Then, we’ll be home in
time to start things this spring.”
“It won’t be like when we went alone,” Jim added. “Dad will be along
and he will see that we do not go butting into any mischief.”
“Well--” She looked at her husband. “What do you think about it?”
“The more I think about it the more it appeals to me, my dear, but I do
not want to influence you unduly. As Jim says, I shall be along, it’s
a business trip, no sky-larking adventure, and I rather feel that our
Flying Buddies will be thoroughly reliable. They must both realize that
it is a serious undertaking--”