WRECKED ON THE DESERT
Though it was an exceedingly novel experience for both Jim Nestor and
Sledge Hammer Tod to ride in an airship, one would never have guessed
it from their manner. They were as calm and collected as though that
was their usual means of locomotion.
Tod looked down at the earth, which was fast receding and in a low
voice remarked to Jim Nestor:
“There sits the deputy sheriff on guard.”
“Yes,” added Jim, equally calm, “as long as he stays there things will
be all right. Nixon and his gang won’t get much gold out of that mine.”
“How do you allow that the gang had the nerve to make a try for your
mine?” asked Tod, turning to Ned and Bob.
“Oh, Tom Dalsett planned it,” replied Ned. “He has been in the West
for some time now, and probably thought he saw a chance to make some
money. He wrote to Noddy to come out here, as Jerry told you, and
we found the letter when he ran away. How Noddy managed to get West
after he ran away from our airship we can only guess. Anyhow, he did
get here, and met Dalsett. Then Bill Berry arrived, probably on some
freight train like one Jerry saw him board. Very likely he dropped off
at a junction point, and came to Rockyford on a local. Then the three
went to court and made their claim.”
Jerry came from the pilot house, having fixed the rudder stationary,
after ascending to about five hundred feet.
“Well,” inquired the tall lad, as he looked at the old miner and at Jim
Nestor, “how do you like it? Is it what you thought it would be?” He
rather expected to see more of astonishment depicted on the faces of
his friends.
“Well, it is and it isn’t,” was the somewhat enigmatical answer of Jim.
“It might be different,” added Tod, as carelessly as he could. “If it
doesn’t act like a bucking bronco now and throw us off, it will be all
right. Something of a distance to fall,” he went on casually, as he
looked down to the earth.
“Well, since we’ve made a good start, suppose we plan a little about
what we are going to do,” went on Jerry. “We will have to depend on you
and Mr. Tod, Jim, to find the valley.”
“We’ll do our best. Have you got grub for a long prospect?”
“We can fly around in the upper air for two weeks if need be,” answered
the tall lad, for he had seen to it that an unusual supply of fuel and
other needful articles had been placed in the ship.
“Well, we ought to find it in that time,” said Tod. “I think, if we
cruise back and forth along the Uncompahgre Mountain range, we may see
just what we are looking for. Of course, it’s going to take some time,
but we’ve got to expect that. If we could only meet Mr. Bell now, we
wouldn’t have any trouble.”
“I certainly hope we shall be able to rescue these poor people,” put in
Professor Snodgrass, looking up from his notebook. “I would very much
like to see my cousin again. Just think of being held captive by the
Indians all these years!”
“If they only _are_ captives,” remarked Jim Nestor.
“What do you mean?” asked Ned quickly, detecting a strange note in the
man’s words.
“Well, I mean if they’re still alive,” went on the mine
superintendent. “If they are, I think we can dispose of the Indians all
right.”
They fell to talking of the strange quest on which they had started,
the airship, meanwhile, continuing to fly ahead toward the unknown
goal. Jerry went back to the pilot house and adjusted the deflection
rudder to send the _Comet_ higher up, so that a better view of the
surrounding country could be had. Still, there was no hope yet of
observing the mysterious valley, or even the mountain range in which it
was supposed to be located. They were several hundred miles away.
For two days they flew on, not making very rapid time, as Jerry and the
boys decided it would be best to be sparing of their fuel, since they
were in a region where gasolene was not plentiful. They sailed now high
and now low, and every minute a new view could be had of the earth, the
mountains and valleys below them.
Professor Snodgrass was kept busy catching and classifying many
insects, but, though he kept a diligent lookout, he had not yet seen
any winged lizards.
“I guess we’re flying too high for them,” observed Jim Nestor, who took
a curious interest in the fad of the naturalist. “When we get to that
mysterious valley we may find some. I’ll help you hunt.”
“Will you, really?” asked the delighted professor, for he did not often
find a kindred spirit.
They ate and slept in the airship almost with as much ease and comfort
as they could have done on earth, and Tod and Nestor were soon at home
above the clouds. Bob constituted himself the cook, as probably you
have already guessed, and he would have served five meals a day if
allowed.
“Well, we’re getting there,” announced Jerry, on the afternoon of the
third day, as the airship was traveling over a wide desert valley. “We
could go faster, but there’s no need. We’ll soon be in Colorado, and
over that mountain range; then----”
He was interrupted by a sudden move on the part of Professor Snodgrass.
The scientist, who had been seated on a bench in the main cabin of
the _Comet_, poring over a book, jumped up, grabbed a long-handled
butterfly net, and rushed aft, exclaiming:
“There! I just saw it! The flying lizard. Look out, everybody! I must
have it! The first specimen I’ve ever seen!”
Through the engine room he rushed to get to the after deck of the
craft. The boys saw a small insect winging its way past the airship,
but whether it was a flying lizard or not was impossible to say.
“I must have it! I must have it!” cried the professor.
As he rushed through the engine room, the long handle of his net
knocked from a shelf a large monkey wrench. It fell against one of the
cylinders of the motor and rebounded into the large flywheel. The wheel
tossed it back against the cylinder with great force. There was a sound
of breaking metal, a loud explosion, and the engine suddenly stopped.
“Oh, dear!” cried the professor, as he paused in his hasty flight.
“What have I done?”
From the pilot house Jerry came on the run. He quickly shut off the
gasolene, which was flooding the now stationary engine. Then, as he saw
the extent of the damage the scientist had unwittingly caused, the lad
pulled a lever. There was a hissing sound, and the airship began to
settle.
“What’s the matter?” cried Jim Nestor. “We’re falling down to the
desert!” and he looked at the vast stretch of sand below them.
“Has the ship busted?” asked Sledge Hammer Tod.
“Part of the motor is,” replied Jerry quietly. “I am letting some
of the gas out of the bag, so that we will go down. We will have to
descend to earth to repair the engine--if, indeed, we can fix it. The
break is a bad one,” and he looked grave.
“It’s all my fault,” wailed the professor. “I should not have been in
such a hurry. I knocked the wrench down, and the flying lizard got
away, after all.”
Amid an ominous silence the _Comet_, badly damaged, settled to the
sands, her first stop since leaving the mine.