THE EAGLE
With a strong wind at its back, the “Ogden II” rose gracefully in
the air. Bob Somers realized that the utmost skill and care would be
required, and was satisfied to keep at a comparatively low altitude.
Gradually, however, he increased the power, until they were racing
along at dizzy speed.
Far ahead the “Border City” appeared as a mere speck, but the aviator
felt that if they were not obliged to descend the biplane would
overtake the dirigible long before the mountains were reached.
“And by that time Major Carroll may have regained control,” he
reflected.
The wind droned and sighed against the planes, while occasionally a
stronger gust, striking the machine obliquely, rocked it gently. Then
the aillerons, or balancing devices, attached to the main plane began
to work automatically, some bending up, others down, in this way
creating a difference in the air pressure which quickly restored the
biplane to an even keel.
Bob Somers at length threw on full power. The pulsating roar of the
engine and whirr of propeller blades were sent far off on the wind,
carrying fear to the cattle browsing on the prairie below.
As mile after mile slipped behind them, the two boys saw with great
satisfaction the cigar-shaped hull no longer appearing as a patch of
gray but beginning to show distinctly the effects of light and shade.
The chain of mountains, too, which hemmed in the plain was looming up
faintly through a dark, murky atmosphere. One lone snow-capped peak
shone delicately white.
As Bob sent the biplane nosing its way slightly higher, Cranny
Beaumont’s thoughts were busy. So far, the “Border City” had not shown
the slightest indication of descending; indeed, the big lad was quite
certain that the runaway balloon was rising.
“Suppose we have to follow ’em right over the mountains,” he reflected.
Almost every theory he had ever heard explained regarding the vagaries
or dangers of air currents rushed into his mind with disconcerting
clearness. Each gust of wind which struck the planes gave him an
unpleasant shock.
“How in the world will Bob Somers ever make a turn in a wind like
this?” Cranny looked hard into the aviator’s face, as if to read his
thoughts; but all he saw was a determined, set expression.
The jagged mountain crests were now cutting more crisply against the
sky. A long line of undulating foot-hills, some forest-covered, others
bald ridges, rolled back in ever-increasing height to the mountains
beyond. And Cranny knew of many deep gorges, rushing torrents and high
precipices which existed amid the wilderness.
Now they were traveling over the sheep country. Flocks of thousands
covered the plains. The boys could see them, terrified by the flying
machine, scampering wildly about, and forming masses of a grayish
white that continually changed their outlines. Some distance off, a
watercourse fringed with willows wound its snake-like way over the
grass-covered floor. Swiftly the biplane approached this gleaming
line, passed across and left it far behind.
The “Border City” was steadily growing larger. In a short time the two
craft would be racing side by side. And what then?
Bob Somers’ brow was furrowed with anxiety. He heartily wished that
there was some means by which he could communicate with Major Carroll.
While these perplexing thoughts were passing through his mind the
aviator’s attention was attracted by the sight of a bird flying some
distance below.
“An eagle!” murmured Bob.
Although the biplane was shooting ahead at a terrific rate, the great
bird easily kept pace with it, occasionally soaring upward, as though
its curiosity was aroused by this giant rival of the air.
“I only hope the old chap doesn’t get too inquisitive,” thought Bob.
He exchanged glances with Cranny Beaumont. “I’d hate to hurt him.” He
smiled grimly, and looked toward his revolver. “But maybe it’s a good
thing that Cranny and I brought these along.”
As the eagle began to fly straight toward them, Bob operated the
control levers again, and the biplane, responding, rose slightly
higher. He kept his eyes fixed intently on the bird, and, in spite
of their situation, could not help admiring the ease and grace of
its movements. The great wings were beating the air with rhythmical
precision.
Higher, still higher, soared the eagle. A harsh, challenging scream
rose faintly above the roar of engine and propeller.
“It surely won’t be foolish enough to attack us,” mused Bob.
He again turned his eyes toward the “Border City.” The air-ship,
silhouetted against the dark, lowering sky, presented an impressive
spectacle. It was now not far distant, and the details were coming into
view.
Meanwhile the king of the air was keeping up the race. But Bob had too
much to think about, for the moment, to even glance toward it.
A strong cross-current of wind suddenly wobbled the planes, causing
the aillerons to flop anew. The broad prairie had been left behind;
they were flying over a chain of rugged foot-hills. The aviator could
see, far below, deep gorges, masses of reddish rock, and green forests
passing by in kaleidoscopic fashion.
The mountain ahead, forming a stern and forbidding-looking barrier,
rose high above them; and it was now apparent that the snow-capped
peak, which glistened strangely white in the darkening atmosphere,
reared itself immediately beyond.
“Ah ha!” muttered Bob. “Major Carroll is throwing out ballast.”
Quantities of sand, as bags were emptied, could be seen falling--curious
misty patches of a lightish color that streaked downward in showers, to
speedily spread out and fade from view.
As patch after patch appeared, and melted away, the “Border City” rose
perceptibly. The aeronauts had evidently decided to cross the mountains.
“If Major Carroll can’t rise high enough to clear those summits,
they’ll be in awful danger.” Bob Somers spoke his thoughts aloud.
“Crickets!” His face paled slightly under its coat of tan. “I guess
this is adventure enough for even Cranny Beaumont.”
The latter’s eyes were sparkling with excitement; his gaze constantly
shifted from the “Border City” to the eagle below, then toward
the mountain peaks, which every instant seemed to present a more
threatening aspect.
The proportions of the runaway dirigible were looming up in all their
hugeness; but a few minutes more, at the present rate of speed, and the
“Ogden II” would be shooting past.
The brief interval of time passed, the roar of the engine lessened, and
the biplane drew abreast of its monster rival.
The boys were too eager, now, to pay any further attention to the
feathered form flying below. Strange thrills coursed through them, as
they looked at the air-ship and its occupants scarcely a hundred feet
away. Willie Sloan was waving his hands vigorously.
The coverings of the car had been rolled up in places, exposing to
view a part of the interior. A network of wire ropes and steel tubing
glimmered dully, while the planes fore and aft and the great rudder at
the rear showed ghostly white.
Bob Somers steered the “Ogden II” still closer to the runaway, shutting
off as much power as he dared. Strong cross-currents of wind began to
make themselves felt, blustering between the planes, sometimes tipping
them slightly, or causing peculiar, ominous vibrations to send chills
down their backs.
“Hello the ‘Ogden II’!” came a hail, which the boys were scarcely able
to hear above the roar of the engine.
Major Warfield Carroll was calling through a megaphone.
“Hello, hello!” yelled the boys, in unison.
“Our engine can’t be made to work. Many thanks for your kindness and
bravery, boys; but I insist upon your making a landing at once.”
His words were barely distinguishable.
Bob shook his head.
“But I insist again that you do nothing of the sort!” shouted the
Major, with all his force. “We’ll be able to rise high enough to clear
the mountains, and are in no danger. Don’t you know that in a short
time you will find yourselves in the midst of most dangerous air
currents?”
“Couldn’t think of giving up the chase!” cried Cranny.
The “Ogden II” was beginning to glide downward. The engine, put under
additional power, drowned the next words which Major Carroll flung
toward them. But there was a strange tone to his voice which made the
boys look at each other in surprise.
The explanation came an instant later.
The eagle, momentarily forgotten, shot into view so close beneath that
its glittering eyes and cruel-looking beak could be clearly seen. Its
magnificent, spreading wings were flapping furiously.
Almost breathless, the two watched the bird soaring still nearer. At
intervals, it emitted a scream that sounded above the incessant din of
the engine.
“Great Scott!” Bob gave a long breath; his nerves tingled with
excitement. “It looks as though we’re in for a scrap.”