IN SIGHT OF THE ENEMY
The following Monday morning, Herb telephoned that the marauder had
again appeared at the Phipps ranch, and had killed off three of the
fold, carrying one away.
It was decided, therefore, to proceed at once with the hunt, and, when
the capture of the thief had been accomplished, to continue the
instruction of the boys.
"Dad thinks the best way to begin is to watch around the fold at night
till the thing appears," said Herb.
His suggestion was adopted, and that night the Fort Bayard boys and
Hawke flew at dusk to the Bread Pudding ranch. It was not their first
trip to the B. P. in the new plane; in fact, it had become quite a
matter of course to drop in on Mr. Phipps, and, as the latter expressed
it, "tie the bird outside."
The full moon had waned and should a chase be necessary they would be
obliged to rely entirely on the acetylene lamps which, however, had been
well tried out. They were not to be lit, however, until needed, lest the
light should frighten away the enemy.
Hawke, Herb, Gray, Fred, Fly and Jerry remained near the plane, which
was stationed just inside the wire fence enclosing the sheepfold. Carl
and Dunk went to the other side of the pasture, while Mr. Phipps and one
of his herders took up their position near the entrance gate. Between
them all, they hoped to get a glimpse of the unwelcome visitor. If Hawke
or his companions sighted him first they were to give instant chase in
the plane, if they could not shoot him, which would be practically
impossible in the dark. The others agreed to wave their lanterns if they
were the first to come in contact with the mysterious sheep stealer. The
plane would then be put into use.
Quietly but anxiously the pursuers watched, until, about nine o'clock,
Jerry began to despair.
"Bet now we're ready for him the old guy won't turn up," he said,
disappointedly.
"Don't worry," assured Herb. "Like as not he won't come 'round till
midnight. That's his usual calling time."
"Regular New York swell," commented Gray.
"Wonder what kind of a thing it is," said Fred.
"I'm beginnin' to think it's a witch--never comes around in daylight,
and nobody ever can get a peep at him," responded Jerry.
"We'll soon find out," returned Herb. "Least, I hope so."
"How near's Chance now?" suddenly interrogated Fred.
"He's within a couple day's run of us," responded Hawke. "Ought to pass
over here Tuesday or Wednesday."
"Gee, bet it'll take a fall out of him to see another plane bobbin
'round here, won't it?" said Herb.
"We'll surprise him, all right," laughed Hawke. "He'll lose his bearings
when he sees us put in our appearance. I'll find out the time he's
comin' and run him a race."
"He's clippin' off a good record," commented Fred, who had been reading
the papers. "Goin' to make it, I guess."
Talking thus the hours sped by until it was after eleven o'clock. The
night descended thicker and blacker as time passed, and in the tense
silence, broken now and then by a tuneful bleat, the boys huddled closer
together and talked in hushed voices.
"We sure could hear the flutter of a wing," reflected Herb.
The next moment they were on their feet, scarcely suppressing a yell.
Something had rushed directly over them, fanning the air like a
propeller, but with less noise. Quick as thought they were in the plane,
the lamps were flashed on and they had mounted into the air.
A huge flying bulk was just in front of them, and, as it swooped
downward toward the sheep, a shout from Fred apparently startled it, for
it rose again, and, whirling, circled rapidly above the fold.
"It's some kind of a flying monster all right," whispered Herb
excitedly.
Hawke had made a rapid semicircle and was flying swiftly in pursuit,
but, as he had lost time in turning, the object had become a part of the
darkness and he could only steer in the direction in which it had seemed
to be flying.
"Carl's waving his lantern," exclaimed Herb. "Must be over there."
Hawke veered quickly. The lamps, while shedding a bright glow for some
distance around the machine, did not throw their light very far ahead.
"There is it, under us," cried Fly. They could see a huge, black,
floating mass, just beneath them.
Circling again and again it was with the utmost difficulty that they
kept it in sight. At last, however, it struck a straight line for the
cliffs.
"We can't get an aim if he keeps on swerving," said Herb.
"Steady, fellows," warned Hawke, for they had moved about, twisting in
their seats, to get a sight of the game. The plane was mounting steadily
higher, and Hawke had reduced his speed, pursuing the enemy as well as
he could, for it had adopted a zigzag course, flying to right and left
and dipping up and down.
"I'm going to try a shot anyway," said Herb.
The others unconsciously left the shooting to the southerner, who, it
was naturally and rightly supposed, would be glad to bag the animal that
had given his father so much trouble.
Young Phipps took aim at the first good opportunity, and shot three
times. It seemed to be without result, for the huge shape moved on,
though its course became more uncertain than ever, and, although it
seemed heading toward the mountain ranges, its flight was uneven and
hap-hazard.
"We must be over the mountains now," said Fly, after a time.
"We're about 1,800 feet above level," responded Hawke.
At that moment the bird resumed its swift circles, flying downward.
Pointing the nose of the plane toward the earth, Hawke followed it,
making a thrilling spiral descent.
"Why, there's the old tower," cried Fred, when the plane had dropped far
enough for its lights to play upon the surface below.
"And he's circling down for it," cried Fly.
"That's his roost, I'll bet," exclaimed Jerry.
"Then it must be the Thunder Bird Carl told about--the one you saw when
I tried to take that picture--the one that raised the storm," jabbered
Fred disjointedly.
"And the one the old Indian is after," put in Gray.
"Let him roost, and then we'll get him," suggested Herb.
But Hawke had altered his course, and was making swiftly in the
direction of home.
"Where you going?" shouted Fly in surprise. It had been necessary for
them to raise their voices considerably, for the mountain torrents were
distinctly heard below, while the noise of their own machine added made
hearing difficult.
"We've got to get right back," responded the aviator, throwing on top
speed.
"What--what for?" yelled Gray. "We nearly had him."
"There's a wind rising, and I felt a splash of rain," returned the
aviator. "We can't take chances over these peaks in a storm."
As if to corroborate his statement there was a distant rumble.
"Thunder," gasped Jerry breathlessly, for the speed of the machine
almost shut off his wind, and like the other boys he was clinging
tightly to his seat.
"I felt rain then, too," shouted Herb.
Another rumble, louder than the first, sent thrills down their backs.
"It was the Thunder Bird all right," yelled Fred. "I told you I saw him
that day."
"We know where he lives now, though," returned Fly.
But they were dashing through space at such a terrific pace that speech
became impossible. Hawke was bending every energy to beat the storm.
Already the wind had risen considerably, and he was obliged to
concentrate his whole thought on the control of the machine.
"Make for the B. P.," requested Herb. "Dad'll be anxious to know how we
come out. We can--"
But the rest of his sentence was lost in a deafening roar, while a flash
of lightning split the darkness and revealed, below them, the stretches
of pasture belonging to the Bread Pudding ranch.
While they had been obliged to give up when victory was within easy
reach, the boys were more pleased than otherwise at the adventurous turn
things had taken. The flight by night, so eagerly anticipated, was
becoming more exciting than they had expected.
Before they realized it, they had skidded down and stopped in front of
the ranch-house. But they could only pause long enough to allow Herb and
Gray to dismount, for it was necessary to reach the Fort as quickly as
possible and lodge the plane in its shed before the storm, whose
threatening voice was growing constantly louder, broke upon them.
The boys had no chance to exchange words with the rancher before, Carl
and Dunk having taken the place of Herb and Gray, they were whisked
upward again. And, though anxious to learn the result of their
companion's flight, the Indian and his friend were obliged to wait
until, just in time, they had shoved the plane back into the hangar and
rushed to the Crawford residence. They had scarcely reached the veranda
when the fury of the tempest was upon them.
"Whew!" ejaculated Hawke, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "That was a
record run. If I had made that at an aviation meet I'll bet they'd have
awarded me some kind of a medal."
He spoke lightly, and the boys never knew how wonderfully well he had
made that flight. Not one aviator in a hundred would have been able to
accomplish it with such coolness and accuracy as Hawke had displayed.
Perhaps, after they had themselves learned to fly, they realized the
precarious condition in which they had been that night and how much they
owed their safe return to Hawke.
They were greeted cordially by the captain when they arrived at the
Fort, who listened, with unfeigned interest, to their rapid recital of
the evening's events.
"But we're goin' back to-morrow," said Fly, "and get him. For we know
where he roosts."
"Yes," said Hawke. "We must lose no time. We have the drop on him now,
and I'll run you all up there in the morning. You can let Herb and Gray
know."
"Telegram for Mr. Hawke," announced Ike, appearing, dripping but
smiling, at the screen door.
"Well, what do you think of that!" exclaimed the aviator, his face
suddenly growing grave as he read the wire, and handed it to the
captain, who was quickly surrounded by the boys.
"'Mexican insurrectos threaten invasion of Texas,'" read Jerry's father.
"'Come immediately. Take charge aviation corps. Urgent.'" The message
was dated from Juarez, and was signed by General Marley, commander of
the border troops.