A NIGHT ATTACK
“Well, this is our first bit of bad luck,” remarked Ned, when the
prospector had gone off to do guard duty. “But I suppose we couldn’t
expect to have everything too easy.”
“No, that’s right,” agreed Jerry. “Well, now it’s up to us to get busy
and make these repairs as soon as we can. If the Indians want to make
trouble they will, and the best thing for us to do is to get out of
here.”
“I don’t call it all bad luck,” observed Bob, as he started back to the
galley, whence came appetizing smells.
“What part isn’t?” asked Ned.
“Getting the bear steaks was good luck. I’m going to broil ’em, and
we’ll----”
“Well, you are the limit, Chunky!” exclaimed Jerry. “You can’t see any
bad luck in anything, as long as there are eats connected with it; eh,
Ned?”
“That’s right. Well, I am glad that I shot the bear. He was a big
fellow, and if the skin had been in prime condition I think I’d have
tried to make a bargain with the Indians for it. But it’s too late now.”
“Don’t have any more to do with the beggars than you have to,” advised
Jim Nestor. “Everything may come out all right yet. Can I help you boys
any?”
“Yes, you can,” said Jerry, in a low voice. “But not by working on
the rudder--we can attend to that. If you keep an eye on Professor
Snodgrass, though, you’ll be doing well. I think he’ll wander off too
far looking for specimens, in spite of what Harvey said. Just sort
of watch over him; will you? He’ll get so interested chasing after a
one-legged bumble bee that he won’t realize how far from camp he’s
going.”
“That’s right--I will,” agreed Mr. Nestor, and he strolled along the
path taken by the scientist, who, intent on capturing a new kind of
butterfly, paid no attention to anything else.
Bob had disappeared into the galley, where he could be heard whistling
and singing by turns as he prepared the meal.
“Chunky is in his element now,” observed Jerry, with a laugh.
“He sure is,” came from Ned. “What can I do, Jerry?”
“Well, you might be making the braces for the new rudder; I have
it nearly finished, but I’m going to rig the controls a little
differently. I want to make them stronger, so that in case of a hard
blow, straining on them won’t break ’em, as it did a little while ago.
If we work fast we may be able to leave to-morrow.”
“I hope so,” murmured Ned. “I want to see the color of those sixty
nuggets.”
“And the longer we delay,” said Jerry, “the better chance Noddy Nixon
and his crowd have of getting there ahead of us.”
“Do you really think they’re after the gold?”
“I don’t doubt it in the least. I think all they wanted was to get an
idea of the general direction in which the valley was. Now they’ll
prospect about, join forces with the grub-stakers, and try to find it.
So we don’t want to lose any time.”
Ned and his tall chum were soon busily engaged on the rudder. It was no
easy task, and several times Jerry feared it would take at least two
days more to make the repairs.
“And I don’t want to spend more than one night here if I can help it,”
he murmured. “Not with those Indians roaming the woods.”
Bob served the bear steaks, and they all agreed that they made a tasty
meal. Professor Snodgrass even consented to give up his bug-collecting
long enough to partake of some.
Jim Nestor relieved Harvey Brill at standing guard, but, when night
fell, it was decided that instead of staying in the open, and building
a campfire, the watch would be kept from within the airship.
“We can take turns in the pilot house,” said Jerry, “and I can mount
the search lamp on top of it, so it can be swung in a circle all about,
being worked from inside. By keeping it on the move it will flash all
around the _Comet_ at intervals, and the one on watch can spot the
Indians if they try to attack us.”
“That’s all right, as far as it goes,” declared Jim; “but the trouble
is that the woods are so thick, and come so close up to us, that we
can’t see the Indians until the last minute. But it’s the best we can
do.”
“It’s better than nothing,” asserted the other Westerner. “Maybe I’m
over cautious expecting trouble, but it’s best to be on the safe side.
It’s better to be sure than sorry. Those redmen, even though I did give
’em most of the bear, may feel that they have been cheated, though it
was Ned’s bullet that did the killing. They may persuade the chief to
lead the attack. So we’ll just stand guard all night.”
“We can do some work on the rudder to-night, too,” decided Jerry, “and
that will fix things so we can surely get off to-morrow.”
Accordingly, he and Ned labored away after supper inside the airship,
while the professor classified his day’s catch of bugs, and Jim and
Harvey took turns in the pilot house, the great searchlight flashing
the finger of fire on the dark trees.
“There, this is all we can do until we can go outside and attach it, to
see how to rig the controls,” announced Jerry, at ten o’clock. “Now,
how about turning in?”
“You and Ned get some rest,” proposed Jim. “We can take the early
watches, and you can relieve us after you’ve had some sleep.”
“I want to do my share,” put in Bob.
“You shall,” promised the mine foreman.
It fell to Bob’s lot to take the last morning trick. At three o’clock
he took his place in the pilot house, Jerry and Ned having stood two
hours each. It would be daylight shortly after five, and then the
danger would not be so great.
“If they come at all, it will be just before dawn,” Jim Nestor had
said. “But they may not come. I haven’t seen a sign of ’em, and I’ve
been watching carefully. That searchlight is a great stunt. It makes
the woods as bright as day; though, as I said, I wish we had a wider
circle of clearing around us. Keep your eyes peeled, Bob.”
The stout lad promised, and took his position. At first he followed
the circle of the light zealously, as it moved about, being operated by
a small motor that sent it revolving on a cogged base. Then, as he saw
nothing but the leafy shadow of the trees, he became less nervous, and
took his task more comfortably.
Bob was a hearty eater, and, just before coming on watch he had
partaken of a lunch, though it was night. And, as is well known, a
hearty meal often makes one sleepy. It was so in Bob’s case.
At first he felt only drowsy. Then he felt his head nodding from time
to time. Once he even dozed for a moment.
“Come! This won’t do!” he exclaimed. “I believe I’m getting sleepy.
Guess I’ll get a drink of water.”
As he arose to leave the pilot house, he gave a look once more all
around the little clearing, lighted by the flashing light. He could see
nothing.
But scarcely had Bob reached the water cooler, and raised the glass to
his lips, then, from the surrounding forest, arose a chorus of shrill
yells--cries that sent a cold shiver down his spine, and seemed to stop
the beating of his heart.
“Indians!” he yelled. “The Blackfeet! They’re attacking us! Wake up,
everybody!”