MR. BELL IS FOUND
“Come on! We must drive him out of there!” cried Bob. “I left a lot of
opened cans of food in the kitchen, ready for supper, and that beast
will eat ’em all up! Come on, we must drive him out!”
“Hold on!” exclaimed Jim Nestor, catching Bob by the shoulder, as the
impetuous youth was about to dash forward. “You don’t know as much
about them critters as I do, son. Keep away as far from ’em as you can,
especially when you haven’t got a gun.”
“Haven’t you got your gun, Jim?” asked Tod quickly.
“No; have you?”
“Nope. First time I’ve been without it in a long while,” and the old
miner looked at the place where his big revolver always hung in its
leather holster.
“Same here,” added Nestor. “We were foolish to come away without them,
but it was so hot to pack ’em over the desert, and I didn’t think
anything would happen.”
“Me neither,” agreed Tod. “That critter must have been passing, and
smelled the meat tins. It concluded it liked the airship, and it’s
making itself to home,” for the beast was leaping about from deck to
deck, passing through the cabin and engine room as if it belonged there.
“Can’t we do anything to get rid of him?” asked Jerry. “He may keep us
out here all night.”
“Have any of you boys got a gun?” asked Nestor.
None of them had, though they each had a rifle and revolver in the
airship.
“Maybe we can scare him away,” suggested Bob, who was getting anxious
on account of the food he had left in the kitchen.
“Mountain lions don’t scare very well,” commented Tod. “At least,
that’s been my experience with them.”
“Maybe the professor has a weapon,” suggested Jim, after a pause,
during which they had drawn a little closer to the airship. The lion
seemed to resent their approach, for it kept bounding back and forth on
the side of the craft nearest the adventurers, snarling and lashing
its lean, tawny sides with its tail.
“The professor never carries anything more harmful than a butterfly
net,” replied Jerry. “I’m afraid he can’t help us.”
At that moment the scientist came up to where the boys and miners stood.
“I didn’t get the flying lizard, after all,” lamented the little
bald-headed man. “But I saw one. I would have had him, only my foot
slipped on a round stone, I fell down, and the lizard flew away. But
what is the matter?” he asked, seeing the odd looks on the faces of his
friends.
“That!” answered Jerry, pointing to the lion, which gave utterance to a
roar.
“Oh, what a beautiful specimen!” exclaimed the professor with
enthusiasm. “I wish I could capture it!”
“I wish you could, and skin it!” added Jim Nestor grimly. “We are
likely to be kept out here all night by that beast.”
“Nonsense, I’ll drive him away,” declared the scientist, and, with his
butterfly net extended, he advanced. The lion showed his teeth and
snarled in an alarming fashion.
“Come back, Professor!” cried Jim, and Mr. Snodgrass concluded he had
better do so.
“Let’s all advance in a body, yelling, shouting and waving our hands,”
proposed Jerry. “Maybe we can scare him.”
But the lion didn’t scare much. It bounded back and forth, snarling and
howling, and seemed about to leap off the ship and attack its annoyers.
The adventurers withdrew for a consultation.
“What can we do?” asked Bob. “All that grub----”
“I guess there’s something more important than grub,” interrupted
Jerry. “We must get the motor fixed, and move off this desert.”
“I should say so--away from these savage beasts,” added Ned; but it was
not of the beasts Jerry was thinking--it was of the lack of water.
“Let’s try the yelling scheme again,” suggested Tod. “Maybe it will
work this time.”
It was now almost dark, but an early moon gave promise of light. Once
more they advanced in a body toward the ship, but the lion evinced no
desire to depart. It leaped back and forth, roaring and snarling.
Professor Snodgrass left his companions and strolled around to the
opposite side of the craft. At once the lion began new tactics. It
leaped from side to side of the airship, as if trying to be in two
places at once.
“I have it!” cried Jerry, when he saw what was going on. “We’ll divide
our forces. Some of us will attract his attention to the front of the
ship, and one of us can slip aboard, get a gun, and shoot him.”
“Fine!” cried Jim Nestor. “The very thing! All of you get up front, and
make all the fuss you can. I’ll sneak aboard and get my gun.”
The boys, Professor Snodgrass and Tod hurried to the bow of the
_Comet_, the snarling lion following them. This drew him away from the
stern. Yelling, leaping about, and making all manner of queer motions
in the hazy twilight, the boys managed to hold the attention of the
beast. Jim Nestor climbed softly aboard, and got his rifle. Then
tiptoeing to where he could get a good shot, he took careful aim and
fired.
The great, tawny beast gave a convulsive leap into the air, and toppled
over on its back on the forward deck. Then it began a death struggle,
which Nestor mercifully ended with another bullet.
The dead lion was thrown overboard on the sands, and the travelers
congratulated themselves on coming so well out of the ordeal. Bob soon
had supper in preparation, while Jerry remained in the engine room,
planning work for the morrow. He looked to see how much water was left.
“Did you find any?” he asked of Nestor, in a low voice, so Bob, Ned and
the professor would not hear. The miner shook his head.
Jerry’s hopes to have the engine in shape the next day were doomed to
disappointment. Even with the new washers, there was a leak in the
water-cooling system, and he knew he would not dare start as long as
that trouble was not remedied.
“We’ll have to make an entirely new pipe to establish the connection,”
he said to Bob and Ned, and they started that task. It was a hard one,
but they finished it in two days.
“I think it will work now,” announced the tall lad, at the close of
a hard afternoon of work. He tested it, and found the connections as
tight as could be desired. Not a drop of water came out. The propellers
were set in motion to try them, and worked satisfactorily. Then the gas
machine was put in operation.
“Why are we going to rise to-night?” asked Bob, in some surprise. “Why
don’t we stay here until morning?”
“Because,” was all the reason Jerry gave, but he looked long and
anxiously at the water supply, as if calculating how long it would last.
They started off just as dusk was settling down, and the airship was
headed across the desert. Many miles of it yet remained, and Jerry was
fearful that before they reached the limits the supply of water would
give out. Much was needed for the motor, and it evaporated quickly.
Little could be left for drinking purposes, and it was necessary, at
all costs, to keep the engine going.
The night was hot, very hot and close, and it seemed that it would
never end. On and on flew the big airship, covering mile after mile.
“Whew! I’m a regular furnace!” exclaimed Bob, getting up from his bunk.
No one was sleeping. The lad went to the water tank and drew a full
glass.
“Go halves with me and Ned on that, Chunky,” said Jerry in a low voice.
“Halves? Why, I’ll bring you a full glass in a minute,” and the stout
lad looked toward Jerry in the pilot house.
“No--don’t!” came the quick answer. “A quarter of a glass each is all
we can have--for a while.”
“A quarter of a glass?” faltered Bob.
“Yes--until we cross the desert. The motor needs it more than we do,”
for well Jerry knew that, once the cylinders got overheated from lack
of water circulating around them, they would be stalled again.
Bob choked back his thirst, but it was hard work. How they lived
through that night they hardly knew afterward, but they did. The ration
of water was further reduced by morning, and as the hot sun came up it
showed the desert still beneath them. There was no prospect of water
there.
By noon there was not another drop that could be spared for drinking,
and they had to sit with parched tongues, and watch the sands slip
along below them. They were not flying high, as they wanted to catch a
glimpse of some lake, river or brook. But none showed--there was only
the dry and sandy desert.
It seemed that they could not stand it another moment. Jerry ran the
motor as fast as he dared, but it seemed to go very slowly, though in
reality they made good progress.
It was about three o’clock when Ned, who was peering down from the bow
of the airship, uttered a joyful cry.
“Water! Water!” he cried. “There’s a brook just below us!”
Jerry stopped the _Comet_ suddenly and sent it down. It needed but a
glance to show that the desert was at an end. In a little green glade
there was a sparkling brook.
No water ever tasted better than did that to the thirsty travelers.
The boys drank with caution, warned by Nestor and Tod, for too much
of the liquid at once would have made them ill. As for the professor,
nothing seemed to bother him. It is doubtful if he even was aware of
the shortage in the drinking supply.
No sooner had he alighted from the airship than he left the others
revelling in the cool water, and began to search for the flying lizard.
The travelers remained down all night, and camped beside the little
stream. In the morning they replenished their tanks, and started off
again. They flew all that day, and toward the close of the afternoon
they saw in the distance a small settlement.
“I think we’d better land there,” was Jerry’s opinion. “We don’t
exactly need gasolene, but if we can get some there it may stand us in
good stead. I’ll fill the reserve tank.”
Down they settled, and as soon as they were within view of the earth a
crowd flocked out to watch their descent.
“What place is this?” cried Jim Nestor, to a group of men who crowded
up to the _Comet_.
“Bashfield, Colorado,” was the answer.
“Then we’re not far from the mountains and Lost Valley; that is as near
as I can calculate,” added the miner to the boys.
The ship was made fast, and Jerry learned that he could get a supply of
gasolene nearby. As he and his two chums were getting out the cans to
go for the liquid, a man was seen pushing his way through the crowd.
“Here, where you shovin’?” demanded a burly miner, roughly but good
naturedly.
“That airship! I must see that airship!” was the answer of the man,
who, it could now be seen, was quite old.
“Well, it isn’t going to run away,” was the retort of the big man.
“Push in here, neighbor, and see it. It’s a wonderful shebang. I’d like
to own one.”
“And I’d like to get the use of one,” murmured the old man. “If I had
it I could rescue----”
He did not finish, for at that moment he caught sight of Jerry and his
two chums. The face of the old man lighted up.
“The Motor Boys!” he gasped.
Jerry turned at the sound of the voice.
“Mr. Bell!” exclaimed the tall lad. “Jackson Bell--the former hermit!
Here!”
“That’s who I am!” cried Mr. Bell, for it was indeed he. “Oh,
I never thought I’d find you! I--I ran away from that Nixon
fellow--because--because----”
“Come right in here,” urged Jerry, helping the aged man into the cabin.
“Come right in. We were all anxious about you. We’ve found Mr. Bell!”
Jerry cried, to Nestor and Tod. “Now we can locate Lost Valley, and
rescue the people from the Indians!”