OVER THE MOUNTAINS
With this new and startling situation confronting them, the boys’
attention was diverted from the “Border City,” now falling rapidly
behind.
Many minutes passed--tense, anxious minutes. The eagle flew still
closer; its menacing attitude increased. Cranny Beaumont drew his
revolver from its holster; he was ready for instant action; but neither
he nor Bob Somers had any desire to end the life of the magnificent
bird unless its own misguided actions should render such a course
absolutely necessary.
Momentarily expecting an attack, the boys could do nothing but
patiently await the next move of their feathered foe. As the minutes
passed without any change in the situation, Cranny twisted his head
around, to see, over his shoulder, the “Border City.”
The air-ship was drifting high above them; and he noted that bags of
sand were still being emptied one after another over its side.
“I’d give something to know what’s going to happen in the next half
hour,” he murmured, grimly.
A magnificent panorama of mountains lay straight before them--a
succession of forest-crowned slopes, of great precipices and
gloomy-looking gorges.
Bob Somers turned toward his passenger; his interrogating look was
immediately understood.
Cranny Beaumont nodded emphatically. His lips framed the words:
“Let her rip, Bob; go as high as you like.”
The big plane instantly began to rise, while its unrelenting pursuer,
as if accepting this as an evidence of fear, uttered a wild screech.
The startled lads had a quick view of a dusky form shooting ahead
and above them. They involuntarily shrank back in their seats, as it
circled around and swooped fiercely to the attack.
Bob Somers knew, and so did Cranny Beaumont, that a false movement of
the controlling levers might place them in the greatest peril. The
latter was prepared; he braced himself hard against the supports.
In another instant, the bird swept violently against the upper plane
only a few feet from him, while beak, wings and powerful talons seemed
to resolve themselves into a confused mass of pecking, beating and
striking objects.
Crack, crack!
Two sharp reports came so close together as to be almost blended into
one. A thin wisp of pungent smoke rolled backward. But Cranny Beaumont,
even in those moments of danger, admired the great eagle too much to
sacrifice its life. The bullets sped harmlessly into space.
His firing, however, produced exactly the effect for which the lad
had hoped. The cracking of the revolver and flashes of flame proved
too much for the courage and fighting spirit of the bird. With a cry
of alarm, it turned and flapped away. Then the boys, to their great
relief, saw it begin a wild swoop downward.
They watched the eagle as it shot off into space, one moment
silhouetted against the green pine forests, and the next passing
across rocky crags, until, finally, the heavy atmosphere blotted it
from view.
“A mighty lucky escape for us both, old king of the air,” breathed Bob
Somers, with a great sigh of relief.
He steadied the rocking biplane, and glanced behind at the “Border
City.” The balloon, considerably to the rear, had now risen to a very
high altitude.
“I’ll have to make a turn and come about,” mused the aviator. “We’re
leaving them too far behind. Here’s a chance to test my skill.”
Bob Somers’ forehead became knotted again. In the stiff breeze, with
the currents of air no longer steady, he was facing a difficult task.
All his senses were on the alert to detect the slightest indication of
danger. Cautiously, he operated the levers.
The flying machine, obeying these movements, gradually changed its
course, swinging further and further around. The planes began to tip,
and, as the wind struck hard against them, the boys passed through
several anxious moments.
Cranny, compelled to sit idle and trust his safety entirely to the
skill of another, managed with difficulty to repress various shivery
sensations that would persist in running through him.
The “Ogden II,” tipping at a thrilling angle, soared around, soon
righting itself under the skilful guidance of the aviator. In a few
minutes they were flying off in the opposite direction against a wind
which blustered and sang, or chanted musically, as it raced past the
planes. The two, at times, were forced to bow their heads to the gusts.
The “Border City” seemed to be still ascending.
“I believe they’re high enough now to cross the mountains in safety.”
Bob Somers spoke his thoughts aloud.
Within a few minutes the biplane had left the dirigible far astern. The
aviator then worked the pedals controlling the rudder and tail, sending
the machine around in a graceful curve.
Another series of thrills, as the planes tipped; another breath-taking
glide, and the “Ogden II” was once more soaring in hot pursuit of the
air-ship. Cranny gave a whistle of astonishment; the biplane had
climbed high above the mountain summits, and was still ascending. A
haze seemed to be coming between them and the earth.
When the lad raised his eyes, he saw peak after peak looming up, while
shining against a waste of flying clouds towered the snow-capped
peak--a pinnacle of forbidding aspect. Almost beneath them great walls
of rock rose precipitously, cleft by deep gorges, or crowned with
verdure-covered slopes. Every minute a new surprise seemed to loom up
in that wild and enchanting scene.
And then it was that the reason for Major Carroll’s course dawned upon
Cranny’s mind. Beyond the furthermost crags, a broad gray expanse
of plain, looking like the sea, stretched off, to finally merge
imperceptibly into the gloomy sky.
“Ah ha; that’s it!” muttered Cranny. “Foxy chap, that; won’t give
up--expects to get his engine going. Knows he’ll clear the mountains,
and be able to descend on the other side.”
He looked toward the “Border City,” now sweeping majestically above the
first summit.
Bob Somers shut off as much power as he dared. Already the biplane had
begun to rock, tremble, or wobble in the grip of deflected currents
of wind. Bob felt that it would be foolhardy in the extreme to risk
another turn; from now on their only safety lay in keeping to a
straight course.
For some time the aviator had had an ominous fact strongly impressed
upon his mind--the wind was veering.
“Yes, there’s not the least doubt about it,” breathed Bob. “And exactly
in the wrong way, too. The ‘Border City’ is surely heading more and
more in the direction of that snow-capped peak.”
He managed to convey his thoughts to Cranny Beaumont.
The big lad nodded vigorously; his face clouded over with the gravest
apprehension. It was certain that the balloon could not clear such a
towering summit.
It was hard for the lads to feel that, although so near to their
companions of the air, they were absolutely helpless to render them the
slightest assistance. Their gaze was fixed on the great yellowish hull
drifting some distance below them, a plaything of the capricious wind
which urged it every moment toward the great white barrier.
The biplane was shooting past again, rocking in the gusts of wind, or
shaken by convulsive tremors. The aviator and his passenger could see,
gathered at the foremost end of the dirigible’s car, not two figures,
but three.
The passage of the “Ogden II” so close above, however, seemed to pass
unnoticed, as though the three could think of nothing but the great
danger which confronted them.
“There’s still time, if the wind would only change!” cried Bob.
Consideration for their own safety denied them a chance to look again.
The cross-currents tore and whirled against the planes; it was a time
when navigation of the air required a cool head and steady hand.
Bob Somers’ face wore a look of resolute courage. He had confidence
in his ability to weather the elements and pilot the craft over the
mountains to the plains beyond. But what would be the fate of the
“Border City”? The wind showed no signs of veering back to its original
quarter.
A prey to doubts and fears, he held the biplane on a steady course,
watching the incline of the mountain, as it seemingly slipped up
toward them, and the frowning, snow-clad crags, close by, which they
were about to pass. It was an awe-inspiring picture of the wilderness,
solemn and grim, with its darkened atmosphere and canopy of somber
clouds.