INTO THE DEPTHS
“What’s that?”
“Where’s my gun?”
“Get ready, everybody!”
“Turn on all the lights!”
These were only a few of the shouts that greeted Bob’s cry of warning.
It was Jerry who thought to switch on the incandescents, illuminating
the interior of the motorship, which had hitherto been in darkness.
Every member of the party, save Bob, had fallen into a weary slumber.
The two Westerners, from long habit, had reached out for their weapons
on the instant of opening their eyes, but the boys were not so trained.
True, Bob had a gun, but he had left it in the pilot house when he went
for a drink of water.
The yells of the Indians outside increased. Very likely, since they
might have raised their voices in shouts at some Wild West show, with
which they may have been connected, this was the first time, in many
years, that they had given vent to the warwhoop; save perhaps in some
tribal ceremonies. But now they were using their lungs to their full
power.
“Come on!” cried Bob, in desperation. “We’ve got to fight ’em!” He was
not a little worried lest his slight dereliction from duty should be
held to be responsible for the surprise. But he need not have alarmed
himself, since it was likely that no one could have seen the redmen
sneak up amid that dense growth of forest.
“Hark!” cried Jim Nestor, as he sprang out of his bunk, with ready gun.
The airship seemed to vibrate to several thuds.
“They’re boarding us!” exclaimed Jerry.
“And they’re not firing a shot!” came from Harvey Brill. “Boys, I see
what this means! They’re trying to scare us, but they haven’t got nerve
enough to use their guns. Maybe this is only part of the band, that has
sneaked off without the chief knowing it, to get what they can from us.
Come on! We’ll give ’em a warm reception!”
He leaped to a window, flung it open and began discharging his weapon,
taking care to aim in the air so as not to hit any of the Indians by
accident. Yells greeted the shot from his rifle, but Mr. Brill knew
what he was doing, and felt sure he had hit no one.
“That’s the way!” yelled Jim Nestor. “Maybe we can scare ’em off!”
He, too, began firing, an example followed by Bob and Ned. The yelling
increased in intensity, and the thuds on the deck of the _Comet_
continued, showing that more of the savages were climbing over the
rail, which offered a slight obstacle.
Suddenly the door of the cabin was pushed open, and one of the
blanketed braves leaped in. He had no weapon, but, seeing some shining
tools that Ned and Jerry had been using on the rudder that day, he made
a grab for them, evidently thinking them of great value.
“Hi! Drop those!” yelled Jerry.
“Indian take!” grunted the redman, as he rushed out again.
“There’s a score of ’em!” cried Harvey Brill, as he looked out and saw
the Indians in the glare of the searchlight. “Oh, if we could only
get out of this! We don’t want to hurt any of ’em, for it will mean
trouble, and yet we can’t let ’em strip us! Can we go up, Jerry!”
“Yes!” cried the tall lad. “We’ll take a chance. There’s no wind, and
we can manage without the rudder. We’ll go up as a balloon! Ned--Bob!
Start the gas machine!”
The two lads, dropping their guns, rushed to the engine room. Jerry
hurried to the pilot house where he saw that all was in readiness
for a quick flight. For, though the _Comet_ could not ascend as an
aeroplane, owing to the broken rudder, it could still rise as a balloon.
The two Westerners were rapidly firing their rifles, taking care to
aim high, hoping to intimidate the Indians by the seeming danger. And,
in a measure, they succeeded. Several of the redmen leaped off the
motorship, and disappeared in the woods. Others, more bold, laid hands
on whatever they could find in the half-darkness out on deck, and ran
off. Still others penetrated to the interior of the craft. But not
one had a weapon. This the boys thought very strange until later they
learned that Chief Standing Horse, fearing that some of his followers
might try to take revenge on the whites for the bear incident, had
confiscated the arms of the younger members of his party, giving them
in charge of the older, and more trusted warriors of his tribe.
“Are you ready, Ned?” called Jerry to his chum.
“All right,” was the answer.
“Then start her going, and we’ll go up!”
It was just beginning to get daylight when there came a tremor through
the whole length of the _Comet_. Jerry had cast off the anchor ropes,
and as the powerful gas filled the bag she tore loose from the earth
and shot upward.
There was a cry of surprise and terror from the Indians still aboard,
and the rapid running of feet across the deck told of a rush to leap
off before the craft went too high.
As it was, several had to drop off from a considerable distance, and
in the dawn of the morning our friends saw many of the Indians limping
into the forest.
“I guess we’ve taught them a lesson,” remarked Jerry, when the
motorship was clear of the earth, and the last Indian had dropped off.
“That’s right!” chimed in Ned, who had kept the gas machine going at
full capacity. “They got a lot of stuff that we may need, but we’re
lucky even so.”
“They didn’t get into the kitchen!” exclaimed Bob, proudly. “I had a
lot of pies there, and if they’d taken them----”
“Oh, for cats’ sake, Chunky!” cried Jerry. “Is that all you can think
of now?”
“Well, why not?” asked the stout lad. “We’re all right; aren’t we?”
And they were, when they came to take an account of themselves. Little
damage had been done to the craft, and only a few articles were
missing. They were now well up in the air, drifting along before a
gentle wind.
“We’ll drift along until we see a good place to land, and then we’ll go
down,” said Jerry.
“Not near here, though,” stipulated Jim Nestor.
“Well, I guess not!” exclaimed Ned.
Luckily they were able to land in a large clearing, many miles from
where the Indians had attacked them, and, as they were now over the
Canadian border--a fact ascertained by seeing some boundary pillars as
they crossed--they had no further fear of the Blackfeet.
“But it was a hot time while it lasted,” said Bob, who explained how
the attack had come about.
Breakfast was served, and then the motor boys proceeded to finish
work on the rudder. Professor Snodgrass, who had taken no part in the
repulse of the Indians, save to gather his books and specimen boxes in
readiness for instant flight, resumed his collecting.
The two Westerners devoted themselves to making a tour of the
surrounding country, to look for possible hostile signs, but found
none. Then they managed to get some small game for Bob to cook.
The rudder repairs were finished that day, and a test of the _Comet_
showed it to be under perfect control.
“Now for the valley of the sixty nuggets of gold!” cried Jerry, when
they were ready to start off again.
For two days they circled about, looking for some landmark that would
indicate to Mr. Brill the beginning of the big earth gash where he had
hidden his wealth. They saw, one evening, a fantastically piled mound
of red rock that showed plainly even from a great height.
“There it is!” cried the prospector. “The valley begins right there!”
“Then we’ll go down, and camp for to-night,” decided Jerry, “and in the
morning we’ll make the descent.”
The morning dawned, clear and beautiful. After an early breakfast they
went aloft in the _Comet_, which could now be guided better than ever.
“That’s the valley!” cried Harvey Brill, as they got above the depths.
“Now to see if I can find my gold after the landslide!”
It was a wild and desolate gash in the earth--a great valley in the
midst of towering mountain peaks. In very truth nothing but an airship
or a balloon could have entered it as it was now.
“Well, here we go, boys!” said Jerry, a trifle solemnly, as he tilted
the deflecting rudder.
All about them were rugged peaks, some snow-capped, others, not so
high, covered with a dense forest growth. Below them lay the mysterious
and silent valley that hid the wealth of gold.
Would they find it?
Everyone asked himself that question as the _Comet_ descended into the
depths.