THE FLICKERING LIGHTS
Wild and desolate was the region in which the adventurers now found
themselves. They were in the midst of the mountains, seemingly with no
civilization near, yet they knew that within a few miles of them was
the remains of an intrepid body of whites and a band of savage Indians.
The airship was anchored in a comparatively level place, and Bob, as
usual, prepared the meal. Jerry and Ned busied themselves about the
craft, making some minor adjustments to the machinery, and seeing that
it was in shape for quick service.
“Have you thought how you are going to rescue those people, in case you
can get down into the valley?” asked Jim Nestor of Jerry.
“Why, yes; go right down in the valley and get them,” decided the tall
lad.
“What about the Indians?”
“We’ll have to fight them, I suppose,” added Ned.
“There are quite a number,” declared Mr. Bell. “If possible, it would
be better to do the rescue work quietly. The redmen may prove too many
for us.”
“Yes, when you’re dealing with an Indian, the quieter you can go about
things, the better,” put in Tod. “Surprise ’em, if you can.”
“Well, I’ll be guided by you, Mr. Bell and Mr. Nestor,” replied Jerry
deferentially. “I admit I don’t know much about fighting Indians.”
“Do you think you can get on this airship all the people you hope to
rescue?” asked Professor Snodgrass.
“It depends on how many there are.”
“There can’t be more than ten,” answered Mr. Bell. “Mr. Loftus said
there were fifteen left when he escaped. Some were so old and feeble
then that there was scarcely any hope for them. Not more than ten left,
I should say.”
“I hope my cousin, Amos Deering, is among them,” remarked the scientist.
“He was alive and in good health when Mr. Loftus made his escape,”
said the former hermit. “He was looked up to as a sort of chief by the
Indians, who treated him better than they did the others, of whom
they made slaves, and compelled them to assist in some peculiar form
of worship they have. I understood from Mr. Loftus that the Indians
venerated a form of lizard.”
“A lizard!” exclaimed Professor Snodgrass. “You don’t by any possible
chance mean a flying lizard, do you?”
“That’s exactly what Mr. Loftus said it was,” came the unexpected reply
from the aged man. “They worship a big flying lizard, of which there
are numbers in the valley. It is as sacred to them as the beetle was to
the Egyptians. There are many of them, and----”
“Then I shall get my specimens, after all!” cried the little
bald-headed man. “Let us start for the valley at once!” and he jumped
to his feet in his excitement.
“We can’t see to do anything until morning,” objected Tod. “Then we’ll
start in.”
“Then I wish morning would come quickly,” went on the professor, as
eager as a child over a new toy. “I want a flying lizard very much.”
“Can the airship carry ten additional persons?” asked Jim Nestor of
Jerry.
“Yes, for a while, though of course we have not rations enough for that
number for very long.”
“You will not need do more than rescue them from the valley,” said Mr.
Bell eagerly. “I will take charge of them after that, and they can stay
at my house. I can make room for them.”
“Well, if it proves to be true about the gold they discovered in the
valley,” went on Nestor, “they can pay their own way.”
“I can’t say that I take much stock in that gold business,” came from
Sledge Hammer Tod. “I’ve heard too many stories of gold in mysterious
valleys, and generally they were fakes.”
“I believe there is gold in Lost Valley, and that the prisoners have
some,” insisted Mr. Bell firmly. “Whether we will be able to rescue
them or not is another matter.”
They talked until far into the night of what lay before them, and then,
as they expected to have a hard day of adventures when the sun rose, it
was decided to go to bed.
It must have been around two o’clock that Jerry awakened with a
start. At first he thought some one had called him, but he waited and
listened; he heard no one else stirring aboard the anchored _Comet_.
“Guess I dreamed it,” he mused; “but, as long as I’m awake, I’ll get a
drink of water.”
He went to the tank, and, as he passed the cabin window that looked
toward Lost Valley, Jerry was startled by seeing strange lights
flickering up toward the sky.
“Northern lights,” was his exclamation; and then, as he stood and
watched the mysterious beams, he realized that his first impression
was wrong. For the lights seemed to reach from the earth to the sky,
and did not emanate from the heavens. Nor did they have the usual
characteristics of Northern lights. They were more like the beams from
some searchlight. They were six in number, and seemed to wave to and
fro.
“That’s odd,” remarked the lad. “Guess I’ll call Bob and Ned, and see
what they think of ’em.”
He awoke his chums, and the three gazed at the flickering lights.
“Electricity, I guess,” remarked Ned.
“That’s it,” agreed Bob. “Probably there’s a storm somewhere in the
mountains.”
“Those lights are not from electricity, nor are they the reflection of
some storm,” spoke a voice at the side of the boys, and they turned to
see Professor Snodgrass standing beside them. “See how the lights wave
to and fro regularly,” he added. “The color, too, is not natural. It
is like the reflection from some fire, in which smoke is mingled.”
“What do you suppose causes them?” inquired Jerry.
“Human beings,” was the quick answer. “I think those are signal lights.”
“You’re right,” came another voice, and Mr. Bell, who, like the
professor, had been awakened by the boys, came to the window. “Those
are signal lights,” went on the aged man.
“Where from?” asked Jerry.
“From Lost Valley. The Indians are signaling.”
“Have they discovered our presence?” Bob wanted to know.
“Perhaps,” was the answer. “But it is more likely that the Indians in
the valley are signaling to some of their number who have gone outside
for food and supplies, which is their custom. Mr. Loftus told me that
they generally signal by means of fires made from a peculiar wood,
and the gleams from the blazes are thrown up into the air, out of the
valley, from highly polished stones.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that explanation,” remarked Bob, with a little
shiver. “I was beginning to think they were ghost lights.”