A FRIGHTENED SETTLEMENT
Silence greeted the announcement of Jerry Hopkins, and for a few
moments all gazed downward on the horsemen below them--that is, all but
Professor Snodgrass. It would need something more than this to take him
away from his notebooks.
“Just show ’em that we don’t care about ’em,” proposed Ned. “Scoot
down toward ’em, Jerry, and then speed up for all you’re worth. We can
easily leave ’em behind.”
“That’s right,” chimed in Bob. “You do that, and I’ll see about getting
something to eat.”
“Something to eat!” exclaimed Jim Nestor. “Why, we had breakfast only a
little while ago.”
“You don’t know Chunky,” said Jerry, with a smile. “From now on he’s
going to live in the cooking galley.”
“I am not!” indignantly exclaimed the stout lad. “And if I did, I guess
you fellows would be glad of it, for you’re generally as hungry as I
am.”
“All right, Chunky, we’ll forgive you,” spoke Ned.
“But, how about fooling Noddy, Jerry?”
“I guess it won’t do any harm. Here goes.”
He went back to the engine room, and while the others in the party
watched those below them, who sought to get on the trail of the sixty
nuggets of gold, Jerry sent the _Comet_ down until they could hear the
excited shouts of one of the horsemen with Noddy.
“That’s the grub-staker!” exclaimed Ned. “He doesn’t know much about
airships, and I guess he thinks we’re going to smash into him.”
“Noddy and Bill are taking it calmly enough,” observed the tall lad, as
indeed the two plotters were, for they could be seen gazing up at the
motorship as if they knew its power and what it would do. But the other
man was yelling excitedly, and urging his steed to one side.
The motor boys were too far away to permit them to hear what was being
said, but it was evident that Noddy and Bill were trying to reassure
their companion.
“Now show ’em our heels!” cried Ned and, as Jerry set the motor to full
speed ahead, the _Comet_ leaped forward on an upward slant and soon was
but a speck in the sky, while the disappointed horsemen tried in vain
to follow its flight.
“They’ve given us the slip!” exclaimed Bill Berry.
“Never mind, we’ve seen in what direction they started,” declared
Noddy. “And you know the best place to head for; don’t you?” he asked
of the other man.
“I reckon so,” replied the grub-staker. “But I never thought they could
handle an airship so. Why, they might ram us!”
“Oh, it’s easy enough to handle one of those things,” spoke Noddy, half
contemptuously. “I have done it.” But in his own heart he knew he had
never managed a craft with the skill of the motor boys.
Our friends continued on their upward flight until they lost sight of
the horsemen, and they knew they, themselves, must be but a mere speck
in the sky.
“Now let ’em follow--if they can!” exclaimed Jerry, as he set the
automatic steering gear. “How about that grub you spoke of, Bob?”
“It’ll be ready soon. What did I tell you?” demanded the vindicated
stout lad, with a laugh. “I said you’d be hungry as soon as I was.”
“Well, this high altitude--ahem!” laughed the tall lad. “Serve it up,
Bob!” he added, with assumed dignity.
During the meal they talked over their plans, and it was decided, first
of all, to stick to the original scheme of pretending to be attached
to the professor’s scientific party.
“We’ll go to Bolton,” said Jim Nestor. “That’s the nearest settlement
of any account this side of the Border, and near the valley you spoke
of, Harvey.”
“Yes, I guess Bolton would be the best place,” assented the prospector.
“I was there just before I made my strike, and from there I can lay out
the course to the valley. There’s only one thing bothering me, though.”
“What is that?” asked Jim.
“Well, you see the only way I can locate that valley is by the
landmarks on the surface. There are two or three things by which I
could tell when I got to the head of it. But, being up in the air this
way, I don’t see how I’m going to recognize ’em.”
“Oh, that will be easy,” asserted Jerry. “We can make a descent
whenever we want to, and look about. If you see any signs that would
tell us we were near the valley, then we can rise above the hills
again, and move along until we are hovering over the big gash. Then we
can drop down into it.”
“Drop down into it!” exclaimed the prospector, for he had not yet
gotten used to hearing Jerry and the others speaking so naturally of a
“drop” from the clouds.
“Well, that is, drop gently,” explained Jerry, with a smile.
This plan appealed to all as a good one, and it was adopted. That day
they skimmed along, not going at any great speed after they had left
Noddy and his cronies behind. At night, to prevent being blown too far
off their course, in case a wind should spring up, they descended into
a little valley, where they anchored. Harvey Brill recognized the place
as one where he had once prospected without results.
“We’re not many miles, as the crow flies, from the Border valley,” said
the old prospector, as he looked about him; “though it took me a good
while to make that distance, traveling on foot.”
The night passed uneventfully, but, when morning dawned, they found
that a stiff gale was blowing. Sheltered as they were, they did not
realize the strength of it, but, when they ascended, the _Comet_ was
almost pitched on her “beam ends” once she was above the shelter of the
hills.
“Say, this is fierce!” cried Ned, who was in the pilot house, helping
Jerry, while Bob attended to the engine room. “We’d better go down,
Jerry!”
“I think so--myself!” panted the tall lad, struggling to pull over the
lever of the deflecting rudder. “I want to--but this is stuck!” he
cried. “It’s gotten jammed in some way!”
“What can we do?”
“Scud along--that’s the only chance until the wind slackens. Then, when
there isn’t so much pressure on the planes, I can work the rudder.”
And scud they did, their speed being increased by the power of the
wind. They were not flying high, and Jerry dared not send the craft up
any farther for fear of getting into a still breezier stratum of air.
“I hope we don’t hit anything!” he murmured, as he watched the speed
and pressure gauges in the pilot house. Ned stood beside him, ready to
help, and Jim Nestor had been pressed into service in the motor room.
The professor was, as usual, busy over his books, and Harvey Brill was
moving restlessly about, half fearing the danger he knew surrounded
them.
It was about noon when Ned, who was looking from the forward port of
the pilot house, exclaimed:
“Jerry, I think we’ll have to go up whether we want to or not. There’s
a big cliff just ahead of us, and we’re heading right for it.”
Jerry sprang to his chum’s side, and quickly made some calculations.
“I think we can just about clear it,” he said. “If we can, so much the
better, for I have a notion that it’s blowing great guns higher up. I
think we can clear it.”
He and Ned watched anxiously, their hands on the levers ready to send
the _Comet_ up if necessary. But, as they approached the cliff, they
saw that they could clear it by a small margin.
“And a good thing, too,” declared Jerry, with a glance aloft at the
scudding clouds.
They crossed the pinnacle of the small mountain, and on the other side,
saw, stretched before them, a level plain. On the far edge could be
made out a small village or settlement.
“There’s Bolton!” exclaimed Jim Nestor. “We’re near the Border now!”
On rushed the _Comet_, and, as it came nearer the town, under better
control now, for the wind had fallen off somewhat, a curious scene was
presented. There was an outpouring of men and a few women--a horde of
horsemen, and all gathered in a compact mass to watch the oncoming
motorship.
As it approached nearer, cries of wonder could be heard, and then,
as the craft swept straight for the settlement, with Jerry in the
pilot house looking for a smooth place to make a landing, the whole
population turned, and fled as though some pursuing demon was after
them.
“They’re scared out of their wits!” cried Ned. “I guess they never saw
an airship before.”