THE BIRD BOYS’ AEROPLANE WONDER


[Illustration: Judge of Their Astonishment and Wild Delight When They Saw
the Aeroplane Leave the Earth.]

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THE BIRD BOYS’ AEROPLANE WONDER

Or

Young Aviators On a Cattle Ranch

By

JOHN LUTHER LANGWORHTY

Chicago

M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY

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Copyright 1914

M. A. Donohue & Company

Chicago

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CONTENTS

  I       Under the Spreading Beech
  II      “Glorious News!”
  III     Looking For Trouble
  IV      The Panic That Came to Pass
  V       What They Found at Witherspoon
  VI      At the Double X Ranch
  VII     A Pretty Close Call
  VIII    Broncho Buster Meets His Match
  IX      Figuring It All Out
  X       Learning the Ropes on the Ranch
  XI      Out for Bear
  XII     The Defense of the Log Bridge
  XIII    Never-to-be-Forgotten Days
  XIV     Off For the Round-Up
  XV      The One Who Came Back
  XVI     An Alarming Discovery
  XVII    The Carrying Off of Little Becky
  XVIII   The Aeroplane Pursuit
  XIX     Over Plain and Desert
  XX      What Andy Saw From Aloft
  XXI     The Terror of the Air
  XXII    The Bird Boys’ Triumph
  XXIII   Home Again—Conclusion

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The Bird Boys’ Aeroplane Wonder

Or, Young Aviators On a Cattle Ranch


CHAPTER I—UNDER THE SPREADING BEECH

“Was there ever such great luck, fellows?”

“Whew! for one, I feel like giving a vote of thanks to the striking
masons, who loafed pretty much all summer, and held the repair work
on the Bloomsbury High building up till now.”

“Them’s my sentiments, Elephant!”

“And they say now the work can’t be finished and school taken up
till December! What d’ye think of that, Frank, and you, Larry?”

“Glory to goodness! two extra months’ vacation, and right through
October too, when the chestnuts are ripe, and walnuts are dropping!
What bully days we’ve got ahead of us, boys!”

“And November, too, mind you,” went on the little “runt” who had
been called “Elephant” in a joke by his chums and could not shake
off the name, “the month when the frisky cottontail is also ripe.
Say, Frank, won’t you have a ge-lorious time trying out that new
Marlin pump-gun you got for your last birthday?”

The third member of the group sitting under the beech tree had as
yet not spoken, since his two companions started to give expression
to their extravagant delight over the wonderful news brought by
Fenimore Cooper Small, the aforesaid “Elephant,” whose father
happened to be the head Selectman of the town, and could fetch the
decision of the Board of School Trustees home before the rest of the
worthy citizens had been put wise to the facts.

“Well,” said Frank Bird, with one of his rare smiles that always
made him friends wherever he went, “I had a pretty good idea it
would end that way, when I heard how the trustees failed to find any
building in town that would answer to house the high school pupils.
Yes, I’m glad for some things, and sorry for others. But it’ll give
the Bird boys a chance to do a little more flying before winter sets
in and stops all that fun.”

Frank and his cousin Andy had become quite famous throughout the
region around Bloomsbury, a town in Central New York, on account of
the wonderful success they had made of aviation.

Indeed, some of the doings of the Bird Boys, as they were called,
had even found their way into the columns of the big metropolitan
papers, and among professional birdmen they were looked upon as most
promising “comers.”

Back of Frank’s house—where he lived with his father, Professor
Bird, once a noted balloonist and scientist, together with an old
gentleman who had served as guardian to Frank when his father was
believed to have perished on one of his long flights while exploring
parts of the Panama Isthmus—in a field some distance in the rear of
his house there had been built a fine workshop, where the two boys
spent most of their time when not in the air.

Already they had invented quite a few ingenious contrivances which
gave promise that some day their names would figure along with those
that have made aviation in heavier-than-air machines what it is
today—those of the Wright brothers.

Close to this workshop was the great “hangar” in which they kept
their aeroplane when it was not in use; and since enemies had
frequently tried to injure their property these buildings were not
only securely locked but as a rule watched of nights.

To tell even a small portion of the doings of these bold cousins
when navigating the air would consume too much space and time; and
the reader who has been unfortunate enough not to have enjoyed their
perusal is referred back to the previous volumes in this Series,
where they will be found recorded at length, and the story told in
an entertaining manner.

The third member of the little group taking it easy under the wide
spreading beech tree, with its thick branches, was one Larry
Geohegan, a firm friend of the Bird boys; whose only fault was the
envy he often felt because he could never accompany either of his
flying chums aloft, being afflicted with a weakness that made him
dizzy whenever he looked down from any height.

Elephant had met the other two quite by accident on the road, and
stopped to communicate the grand news, which he had heard his father
tell at the breakfast table.

Apparently the other two lads were going fishing, for they had poles
and bait cans lying on the ground. There was a beautiful lake named
Sunrise, upon which the town lay; and a mile away a stream ran into
this which could always be depended upon to furnish a splendid
string of bass, chubs, sunfish and horned pouts or catfish, when the
wind was favorable, as happened on this lovely morning. “What were
you waiting here for under this tree; did you expect Andy to show
up?” asked Elephant after he had declared his intention of joining
the fishing party, and cutting a pole when he got on the grounds.

“Just what we did,” replied Frank. “He spent last night out at
Spencer’s, because as you all know, the old gentleman is especially
fond of Andy, and every once in so often begs him to come out and
cheer him up.”

“Yes, and they do say he means to leave all he’s got to Andy, in
trust of his father, Doctor Bird,” declared Larry, that little
streak of envy again making itself evident in his voice; for it did
seem to him that things were always coming to his chums and passing
him by.

“Oh! that’s silly talk,” laughed Frank, “I wouldn’t pay any
attention to it, if I were you, Larry. I’m sure Andy never gives
such a thing a thought. He’s only too glad to oblige the poor old
man who’s so crippled with rheumatism that he can hardly hobble
around. And you know that years and years ago he used to be a noted
traveler, and a lecturer as well. Why, fellows, there hasn’t hardly
been a country on the face of the earth that Mr. Spencer hasn’t
visited, and explored. I could sit for hours and just hear him tell
about what he’s seen and gone through with. I try to go out with
Andy every chance I get; but last night I was too busy with a knotty
problem I had to solve.”

“I just bet you it was about some new contraption you’re making up
to surprise the flying people. Already you’ve done a heap along that
line, Frank; and they do say that the time is sure to come when
you’ll give the Wrights, and all that bunch, a rude jolt, by
inventing something that they’ve all been trying hard to discover,
but nixey, nothing doing up to date; because the time ain’t ripe,
and the Bird boys haven’t had a fair chance to show what they can
do.”

Frank only laughed when Elephant applied this thick coat of
flattery. He was accustomed to hearing this sort of talk from that
quarter; because the Small boy had always been one of his greatest
admirers from the time when he and Andy were struggling with their
first rude pattern of an aeroplane, in which they had installed some
sort of cranky engine, and actually taken short flights, without
getting their necks or legs broken.

“But you must have agreed to meet Andy here then, didn’t you?”
Elephant went on to remark, stretching his neck to glance along the
road as he spoke.

“That was the agreement when he went off on his wheel yesterday
afternoon,” replied Frank Bird. “If the morning looked fishy, Larry
and myself were to wait here under the old beech at eight o’clock
until he came along. You see, I’ve got a pole for him; and we dug
lots of worms. Larry even went out last night with a lantern, and
picked up a can of big fat night-walkers that look like young
snakes. I dropped in at Andy’s house on the way here, and told them
he wouldn’t be back till evening, if the fish took good, and the
bathing turned out fine. We’ve also got plenty of grub along; yes,
enough for you, too, Elephant.”

“Hoop-la! you make me feel happy when you say that, Frank; because I
was born with an appetite, you must know; and when I can’t get my
grub at least three times per diem I’m apt to complain,” and the
Small boy grinned good-naturedly as he made this remark.

“I say, Frank, have you and Andy invested that reward money the bank
insisted on you accepting when you captured the two hobo yeggmen who
broke into their safe; and also stole Percy Carberry’s biplane to
make their get-away in?” asked Larry, who, it might as well be
confessed right here, had a pretty average streak of curiosity in
his make-up, and was forever wanting to know this, that, and the
other thing.

“Oh!” answered the other carelessly, “we’ve still got that in bank,
and may put it into another machine later on; or else invest in some
parts we want to work with, Andy having a new idea this time that
looks worth while experimenting with.”

“You sure are the luckiest pair I ever ran up against, and that’s a
fact!” declared Larry.

“We think so ourselves,” Frank admitted. “There’s one thing certain,
and that is we don’t deserve all the great times we’ve been having
this year and more.”

“Don’t you believe it!” exclaimed Elephant. “It ain’t luck so much
as being everlastingly at it, and minding how you do things. You
deserve all you’ve got, Frank; and lots of people say so besides
me.”

“Here comes Andy,” remarked Larry, anxious to turn the conversation
just then, for he was really somewhat ashamed of his weakness, “I
saw him flash past that open place up the road, and spinning along
like fun.”

“Yes, you’re right there, Larry,” added Frank, “and here he is.” A
boy mounted on a fine bicycle came whirling along the road, and
speedily drew up at the beech with the dense foliage, which later on
would yield a harvest of the small but sweet nuts boys love so well
when it is a “fat” season.

Andy Bird was not quite as tall as his cousin, though well built and
rather stocky at that. There was more or less resemblance between
them, although their temperaments differed in many ways, Andy being
more inclined to impulsiveness than the cooler and far-seeing Frank.
But they were exceedingly fond of each other, and had been
inseparable for years.

Andy threw himself from his saddle, and lowering his wheel to the
ground after the usual boyish way, dropped down beside the others.

“Whew! I hit it up at a lively clip all the way down!” he remarked.
“You see, it’s awful hard to break away from Mr. Spencer, and he
kept me up to the last minute. I knew you said eight o’clock, Frank,
and I didn’t want to keep you waiting. Glad you turned up, Elephant;
we tried to get you on the phone yesterday afternoon; but they said
you’d gone off, and nobody knew where. Going with us, ain’t you?”

“Make your mind easy on that, Andy,” replied the diminutive
Elephant, glibly. “I never could hold out when there was any fishing
going on. I just revel in pulling out the gamey bass, the festive
catfish, and the acrobatic eel; while as for perch and pickerel and
sunfish, why, I delight to see them wriggling on the hook, ready to
take their places in the pan. See you’ve got a fryingpan along,
Larry; and that means we’ll have fish for dinner today—after we grab
’em out of the water.”

“But Andy, think of the bully good news Elephant’s gone and brought
with him,” Larry went on to say, jubilantly, “the trustees have
finally decided that, as the big repairs on the high school building
have been started, and can’t possibly be done till early winter,
why, because there’s no place in town that could be used just now,
vacation has got to be lengthened until about the first of
December.”

Andy Bird looked delighted, as what boy would not. Immediately his
eyes traveled in the direction of his cousin, and there was
exchanged between them a significant series of nods and winks, that
possibly meant their thoughts were along the same lines; and that
now they would have the time to go with certain work that had been
taking their attention of late. “By the way,” said Frank, “I stopped
at your house on the way out, Andy, to tell your father that you
would go fishing with us, and not to expect you till night. And he
gave me a letter for you that he said had come in the early morning
mail. From the postmark I see it’s from your uncle Jethro, away down
on that Arizona ranch you were telling me about. Here it is, and a
fine fat one too.”

Andy hastily opened the letter, and was heard to give vent to a low
cry that seemed to spell both astonishment and delight.

“What’s this mean?” exclaimed Frank, stooping to pick up a paper
that had fallen to the ground, “why, as sure as you live, it’s a
check made out to you, Andy, and signed by the old bachelor uncle,
your mother’s brother. Hold your breath, fellows, while I whisper
what the amount is he takes pleasure in sending to his beloved
nephew—four figures in it, as sure as you live—a clean thousand
dollars!”

Larry gave a groan and threw up his hands while his eyes rolled.

“Of all the lucky fellows, you Bird boys do certain sure take the
cake!” he cried.


CHAPTER II—GLORIOUS NEWS

“Ain’t you going to read it out, Andy?” asked Elephant, anxiously.

“Wait till he gets through, can’t you?” asked Larry, although he was
fairly trembling with eagerness to hear what the sending of that
glorious check could mean; when he looked at the small bit of paper
Frank was holding he almost held his breath with awe, for to tell
the truth Larry had never seen a check a quarter as large as that in
all his life.

Andy could not say a word when he finished reading. He seemed to be
fairly overpowered with emotion, and holding the letter out to
Frank, motioned that he should accommodate the other two.

And so Frank started in. The letter was written in a cramped hand,
as if uncle Jethro Witherspoon had rather lost the knack of using a
pen; but then Frank could wade through it, even if he did hesitate
here and there.

It started in after this fashion:

  “My Dear Nephew, Andrew Bird:—I’ve been hearing a whole lot about
  the way you and your cousin Frank are coming along with that
  airship business, and your mother has got me worked up to pretty
  nigh fever pitch about your precious doing. Now here I am, an old
  and cranky bachelor, with a big and successful cattle ranch on my
  hands, and no chick or child to cheer me up. I want you two boys
  to pay me a long visit, and bring that wonder of an aeroplane
  along with you. I sounded your mother some time back, without her
  letting you know, and she was agreeable, if only it could be
  arranged without interfering with your school duties. And here
  today your good dad, the doctor, has wired me that he believes
  there is going to be an extension of the vacation period for
  another two months.

  “Seems like things might be working to please a lonely old man out
  this way. Now here’s a little check to cover expenses. If you need
  any more draw on me to any amount. What’s money for anyway but to
  give pleasure to somebody? Pack up that flying machine of yours,
  and either tuck it under your arm or else ship it by the fastest
  express you can get to receive it, regardless of cost.

  “I’m not going to take no for an answer. I want you and that smart
  cousin Frank down here to show some of my cow-punchers what’s
  doing in the line of this flying business. But most of all I want
  to see you. I’ve got your pictures before me as I write, and I’m
  counting the days until you arrive, bag and baggage. Wire me on
  receipt of this all about your plans and when you can start. If
  you say you can’t come, I’m going up after you. I’m used to having
  my own way, the boys down here will tell you. With lots of love,
  believe me,

                                  “Your affectionate uncle,
                                                “Jethro Witherspoon.”

When Frank finished reading this remarkable letter, Larry gasped for
breath; while little Elephant stood on his hands and cracked his
heels together.

“That sure takes the cake, Andy, Frank!” he declared, when he had
once more resumed his customary position, with his head higher than
his heels. “And my stars! what a ge-lorious time you two will have
of it, away down in that desert corner of Arizona! Cowboys—bucking
bronchos—whirling ropes—branding cattle—the merry round-up—the
camp-outs on the plains, and all them stunts. Oh! what wouldn’t I
give to be going along with you, fellers?”

“It’s always better to be born lucky than rich; I’ve said that
before, and I’m ready to stick by it!” stoutly asserted Larry.
“Frank, can we go, do you think?” asked Andy, almost in a whisper,
as though he had hardly as yet recovered his breath, taken away at
the wonderful news contained in that letter which his cousin had
brought him.

“We’ll think it over and see,” replied the other, always avoiding
the rush tactics that Andy frequently displayed, and which made him
a valued member of the Bloomsbury High football eleven. “But I
rather guess it could be arranged, if my father is willing.”

“Huh! no danger of him saying no,” grunted Larry. “He ought to know
that you two boys can take care of yourselves anywhere on the face
of the earth. After you went down to Colombia in South America, and
figured out where he must have drifted to, when he lost control of
his balloon; afterwards rescuing him from that queer old valley
surrounded by the high cliffs, that made him a prisoner, the
Professor’d say yes if you wanted to try a trip to the moon. And
some of us’d believe you, if you said you’d been that far in your
airship, and shook hands with the Old Man up there.”

“But he wants us to take our aeroplane along, Frank; could we pack
that up and send it by express, do you think? Will they take
anything as big and cumbersome as that, in boxes or crates, by
express?” Andy went on, eagerly, as though in his mind the fact of
their going was already assured.

“I guess they’ll take anything short of a house!” declared Elephant.
“Even if it needs a special car to carry it along. If you sent the
thing by freight, chances are it’d be a whole month getting there.”

“And time counts with Uncle Jethro more than money does with most
men,” remarked Larry. “You see he wants to get you there with your
flier regardless of expense. Why, I’d wire him tonight, Andy, and
pack up in a couple of days. Elephant ’nd me’ll help out all we
can.”

“Well, I should say we’d thank you for the chance,” spoke up the
Small boy.

“It’s hard to believe we’ve got such a great chance to see something
of that country down there among the mountains and deserts and
plains of Arizona,” Andy went on to say, as though he wanted some
one to stick him with a pin, so as to find out whether he were
really awake, or only dreaming.

“And I never dreamed we’d have such a great opening to visit that
country,” the other Bird boy went on to say, while his face beamed
with delight which refused to be repressed. “That uncle of yours
must be a fine old chap, Andy. His letter is a peach, and I’m as
sure as anything we’ll like him from the word go. Think of his
throwing you a check for a thousand just like it might be thirty
cents; and telling you to draw on him to any amount. He must think
we’ll be wanting to charter a special train to take us and the
aeroplane along.”

“Chances are he’d stand for it,” ventured Larry. “Say, why didn’t
some rich old uncle of mine think of me, and send a little piece of
paper this way? I’ve got half a dozen wealthy ones, but they don’t
know I’m on the face of the earth.”

“Well,” said Elephant, “get busy then, and make the name of Geohegan
famous, and then they’ll all break their necks trying to get you to
let ’em adopt you. The trouble is, Larry, you hide your light under
a bushel too much. Fly high, like the Bird boys do, and everybody
’ll see what you are.”

The other gave a dismal groan.

“That’s just what ails me,” he complained, “I can’t fly at all. Why,
I get dizzy in a swing; and even when I go out on the lake, if she’s
the least bit rough, you’ll find me hangin’ over the side right
away, tryin’ to see how deep it is, and wonderin’ if drowning’d stop
my troubles easy like. I reckon I’ll just have to make up my mind
that if ever I set this old world afire, it’s got to be by doin’
some stupendous intellectual stunt. That seems to be my long hold,
just as eatin’s yours, Elephant.”

“Rats,” jeered the other, contemptuously, “as if you couldn’t stow
away twice as much as me any day you felt like it. I talk a heap
about the grub racket; but you can work them jaws of yours to beat
the band, Larry Geohegan.”

“Well, do we start off now, or fuss around and chatter like a lot of
monkeys?” demanded the party thus referred to by Elephant.

“What about your wheel, Andy; you don’t want to lug that along
through the timber by that snaky trail?” asked Frank.

“I had fixed all that in my mind as I pedalled,” was the reply. “You
know we have to pass the Fletcher place just above here, before we
strike off the road, and I can leave the bike there till we come out
this afternoon.”

“Sure thing!” commented Elephant, nodding his head sagely; just as
though when he approved of a suggestion it had the hall mark of
wisdom stamped on it.

“I’ve done that more’n once when I had my wheel along,” declared
Larry, bent on showing his chums that he could have an original idea
once in a while, even though fame had not picked him out for a
favorite.

“Did you bring a pole along for me, Frank?” asked Andy.

“Yes, and plenty of hooks, and lines, and sinkers, and what-not,”
replied the one addressed. “Elephant, here, says he’ll cut a pole
after we get on the ground; and the chances are he’ll be the
luckiest fisherman of the lot. Nearly always turns out that way, I
notice; for the fellow who just takes things as they come along gets
the biggest fish and the greatest number. Now, you see, I’ve got a
rod along, a real jointed split bamboo rod that was given to me last
Christmas by my guardian, old Colonel Whympers. I’m going to be the
toney angler, and try all sorts of stunts while the rest of you are
pulling in the fish. But to me a pound bass caught on light tackle
is better than one that weighs three times as heavy, if I have to
just yank him in with a pole, and a cord tied to the end—no reel, no
fine leader, only a hook in a bunch of wiggling worms, and a float
above the sinker.”

“Huh! you’re getting big notions, Frank,” grunted Larry. “Time was
when you seemed just as well pleased with one of these long cane
poles. I’m mighty much afraid you’re getting spoiled, my boy.”

“Well, if somebody made you a present of a beautiful jointed rod
like that, now, Larry——” began Andy.

“Ain’t no chance for that to happen; nobody ever thinks to remember
my birthday, ’cept you fellers; when you pound me nearly to death,
and then treat to the ice cream to make up for it,” Larry lamented,
dolefully.

“But supposing they did,” persisted Andy, who never liked to give up
anything on which he had started; “now, wouldn’t you want to get
acquainted with it; and if you caught a good fish that way, and felt
how he pulled, and saw the slender rod bend nearly double, wouldn’t
you want to try it again and again, honest Injun, Larry tell me?”

“Oh! I guess so, Andy,” answered the other, making a grimace, “but
there ain’t no such luck for me. I must a been born under an evil
star, my mom says, because I’m always bustin’ things at home. She
says it’s because I’m so clumsy; but I know better. Why, seems like
some things just fall over and smash, when I happen to look at ’em.”

“Then for goodness sake quit looking at me like that, Larry!”
exclaimed Elephant. “I ain’t got no hoops around me right now, and I
tell you I don’t want to bust any—not till after we’ve had that
bully old camp dinner today, anyhow. Just turn your eyes the other
way, thank you.”

Andy had meanwhile carefully placed the wonderful check inside the
envelope once more, and with a pin fastened the latter in his coat
pocket. It was Frank’s suggestion that he do this; for the latter
knew from experience that Andy could be a bit careless at times. And
the thought of losing that windfall, when so delightful a future
beckoned to them through its means, would be enough to give any boy
the heart-ache.

“All ready, boys?” asked Frank, presently, as he stooped and
carefully picked up the little covered case in which his fine rod
lay, each joint reposing in the groove that was made to hold it.

“Yep. Let me carry the poles, Larry. You’re always getting things
caught in the bushes and trees as we go along. Why, only the last
time we came fishin’ didn’t you hook me in the ear, and make me howl
like anything? You take care of that fryingpan, and the bundle of
grub. And walk ahead, so’s we c’n kinder keep an eye on you, please,
Larry.”

“Huh! think you’re smart to say that, don’t you, Elephant?” grunted
the other, but in spite of the fact that these two were usually in
some sort of a “spat,” they were really great friends, and ready to
do almost anything, one for the other.

So the four boys left the shelter of the fine old beech that stood
alongside the road, while its mates grew over on the other fence;
for strangely enough, Frank had noticed that beech trees like
company, and are rarely if ever, found alone.

They walked briskly along the road, with their backs turned in the
direction of the not far distant town. A little ways off they would
climb the fence, pass through a field, enter the woods, and by a
short-cut reach the fishing grounds much more easily than if they
had skirted the lake, and coming to the little river, followed up
its sinuous course.

Just as they came to the bend a short ways above, Larry, who was
ahead, happening to turn around in order to say something was seen
to stare, and then exclaim:

“Well, now, if that don’t beat anything going!”

Of course his strange words, together with the look on his face,
aroused the curiosity of the other three boys. They, too, turned
their heads, thinking in this fashion to discover what had given
Larry so great a shock; but so far as they could see, there was
nothing at all in sight.

“What was it?” demanded Andy.

“Did you see somebody?” demanded Elephant, getting his poles in
every sort of trouble, in his eagerness to learn what it was all
about back there.

“Yes, and what do you think, fellows, he just dropped down out of
the branches of that big birch tree, and hurried into the bushes
like fun. Take my word for it, he must a-been up there all the time
we was sittin’ talking; and if that’s so, he learned about Andy here
getting that letter and check from Uncle Jethro, ’way down in the
cow-puncher country.”

“But who in the mischief was it, Larry, did you know him?” persisted
Elephant.

“I should say yes; and who but that sneak of a Sandy Hollingshead,
the shadow that hangs around after Percy Carberry, and does most of
his mean work for him. And chances are, he’s makin’ for town right
now, to tell all he’s learned. Say, won’t your old rival, Percy, be
mad, though, when he hears of the luck that has come to the Bird
boys?”


CHAPTER III—LOOKING FOR TROUBLE

Andy looked somewhat serious when Larry said this; but Frank on his
part only laughed.

“Well, what does it matter?” he remarked. “The thing will be town
talk in a little while, and those fellows would hear it that way.
Let Sandy run with his great news and give his chum a pain. You
don’t think for a minute that because we’ve got a chance to go off
there to the cattle country, that Percy Carberry would make up his
mind to hike that way, with some sort of machine he’s got coming, to
take the place of that new biplane the bank thieves wrecked for him
in Lake Ontario?”

“But you know how bitter he’s always been against us, Frank?”
expostulated Andy.

“Many’s the time he’s tried to do us a bad turn; and even up in the
air he used to take the greatest delight in swooping past us, just
as close as he dared, and give us a scare; though he quit that when
you threatened to lick him.”

“But didn’t you do Perc a great favor that time he had his machine
knocked to flinders on the table rock up yonder?” demanded Elephant,
turning to point his rods upwards to where quite a mountain reared
its head toward the clouds, and which was locally known as Old
Thunder-Top, though in the atlas it had another name.

Nobody had ever been able to climb to the summit of that precipitous
height, and when the Bird boys landed there once from their
aeroplane and planted a flag above the nest of the white-headed
eagles they achieved a great triumph. The incident to which Elephant
alluded had been brought about during a sudden thunder storm that
had caught the rival aeroplanes while making a flight to the top of
the mountain; and at that time the Bird boys were indeed placed in a
position to save the lives of Percy Carberry and his comrade Sandy;
but since gratitude was a foreign element in the make-up of the
jealous rival, he had never shown that he meant to change his
tactics toward Frank and Andy.

“Oh! never mind about what we did,” remarked Frank. “Forget it, just
as Percy has done. Tomorrow, we’ll get as busy as beavers, packing
the machine in the cases; and how lucky we didn’t break them up as
you wanted to do, Andy, just to get rid of the stuff, you said. I
guess we ought to be able to ship on the next day, and then learn
just how long it’ll be on the way, so we can time our own going.”

“Huh! seems to me you ain’t botherin’ much about whether your dad’ll
give his consent, eh, Frank?” remarked Larry, grinning.

“Oh! I’m taking that for granted; because you all seemed so sure he
wouldn’t refuse me that favor,” chuckled Frank. “But come along,
boys; what do we care if Sandy did get the news first hand, by
climbing that tree when he saw us coming along the road, and keeping
those big ears of his wide open. So far as I’m concerned I’d just as
soon tell them myself all about our plans; because if we’re away
down in Arizona, and they stay here in old Bloomsbury, I don’t think
Percy’s got a long enough arm to reach that far, and do us any
harm.”

“He sure would if he could, and don’t you forget it,” muttered
Elephant; and at that Andy looked more or less troubled.

As our story concerns the doings of the Bird boys in other fields
than that of their old stamping grounds around the home town, we
need not accompany them further on their visit to the fishing hole.
Enough to state that the finny tribes bit eagerly at times, and that
besides having a fish dinner at noon, they all carried home
respectable strings to exhibit as evidence of their prowess with
hook and line.

Frank doubtless felt satisfied with his sport, even though he did
not take the largest bass, nor the greatest number for that matter;
and the whole of them came home by sundown, tired, yet satisfied
with the day’s sport.

During the many hours spent alongside the deep hole where the fish
loved to lie in these late summer days, there was plenty of time in
which to discuss the coming departure of Frank and Andy for the Far
West. And it can be set down as certain that the subject was
threshed as dry as a bone before the quartette separated for the
night.

Early the next day Elephant and Larry showed up at Frank’s house, to
find him already busily at work out there at the hangar, taking off
bolts, and dismembering the wonderful aeroplane with the confidence
of one who was familiar with every minute detail of its
construction; which was only the truth, for with his cousin he had
partly built at least three “fliers” up to now, and was continually
thinking up some new arrangement that would make the task of
piloting aeroplanes through the upper air currents much easier, or
possibly add to their safety when rocked by furious gusts of wind
among the clouds. Andy soon showed up, and almost quivering with
eagerness to get busy. There did not seem to be the slightest thing
in sight to disturb the two who were planning such great things.

And that was indeed a busy morning for the four friends.

Elephant and Larry were only too anxious to do all that lay in their
power, in order to assist. True, their knowledge of the mechanism
connected with these amazing air travelers was rather limited; but
then both were willing to do odd jobs of carrying, and nailing up
cases; so that altogether they made themselves very useful indeed.

Larry managed to bottle up his envy on this occasion, and even
seemed quite gay. As a rule he was a good companion, cheerful,
willing, and generous to a degree. And Elephant could hardly have
been any happier even though given the opportunity to accompany the
pair of adventurous voyagers on their long trip.

Then came the afternoon session, and they went at it with renewed
vim. It is astonishing what an amount of solid work four husky boys
can put in during a whole day with the tools, especially when two of
them are as expert in handling monkey wrenches and the like as Frank
and Andy were.

By four o’clock the aeroplane had been completely and securely
packed, and they were waiting for the big truck which Frank had
engaged at the livery stable, to show up, in order to carry the same
to the freight station of the railroad.

The man presently came along, and with the help of the four boys the
various boxes and crates were loaded. Then they started off, headed
for the railroad; and as their route lay directly through town it
was not long before quite a following of youngsters trailed along,
chattering about the mysterious way in which Frank Bird was about to
ship his aeroplane, and inventing all sorts of miraculous stories
about certain races in which the two cousins were slated to take
part; until one boy more daring than his mates, managed to climb up
on the truck, and read the address which had been plainly printed on
every piece of freight.

So it was known that the aeroplane was being shipped far away to
Arizona; and it may be set down as certain that this fact only
served to whet the curiosity of that crowd of half-grown lads more
than ever.

Frank had learned on the preceding evening how it would have to be
sent out. The express people would handle it after a certain
fashion, shipping by what they called fast freight. The agent
calculated that in this way it would take about ten or twelve days
for the aeroplane to reach the border town where Andy’s uncle was to
meet them upon their arrival.

Of course that meant a long delay, and much fretting; but it was the
best that could be arranged, and Andy had to abide by it. But
between them he and Elephant and Larry had decided that they would
not let the precious freight go unguarded for a minute, until it was
placed in a car on the following morning, and had left Bloomsbury on
the freight that would rush it to the nearest city, where it could
be attached to the fast train that left daily for Western points.

Frank was inclined to make fun of his cousin for his suspicions, and
declared that according to his mind they had nothing to fear, except
the possibilities of a fire sweeping down upon the ramshackle
freight house, which was the best Bloomsbury could boast until the
new stone one was completed.

“Do just whatever you want to, boys,” he had remarked, after they
had received the receipt for the freight, and paid the charges all
the way through, with some of the cash that wonderful check had been
exchanged for after Andy had written his full name across the back;
“but I rather think you’ll have all your trouble for your pains. As
for me, I’ve got a few important things to work at tonight, and so,
if you don’t mind, I’ll spend the time in the shop. Good luck to you
all! Let me know the first thing in the morning if everything’s
O.K.” With that Frank swung around on his heel and strode away.

“How about that, Andy,” demanded Larry, when they saw Frank vanish
beyond the open door of the freight shed; “is he really giving us
the hook because we think it best to watch the blooming freight
tonight, for fear that tricky Perc Carberry and his man Friday, I
mean Sandy, swoop down upon it, and do something to make your fine
airship good only for the scrap-heap?”

Andy laughed as he replied:

“You just don’t know Frank as well as I do,” he observed. “Chances
are that if we hadn’t set up that howl about being afraid something
was going to happen here, my cousin would have quietly sneaked along
this way after dark, and stood on guard the whole blessed night.”

“What’s that you say, Andy, and he just laughed at us too? I didn’t
think Frank had it in him to play a joke like that,” exclaimed
Elephant, looking hurt.

“Well,” went on Andy Bird, “you see he knew we were bent on keeping
guard here, and Frank does hate to see anybody disappointed; so he
just let us have our own way about it. And then when he said he had
something important to do at our shop, he spoke the truth; because
he’s right now on the heels of a discovery that may mean a whole lot
to us.”

“All right,” remarked Larry. “We’re only too glad to let Frank off,
and run the whole shooting match ourselves, for once. Now, how shall
we fix it so every fellow can get home to supper, and yet keep tab
on what’s going on here all the while?”

This was very easily adjusted, however. They left Larry on guard,
because he said his folks had supper later than the rest; and both
Elephant and Andy promised to hurry back as soon as they could get
enough to eat; and let their folks know just why they did not expect
to occupy their beds that night.

This plan worked all right.

When the two boys turned up together, one having called for the
other, of course the first thing they asked Larry was whether
anything had happened; perhaps their sharp eyes detected the fact
that he looked somewhat excited, and they judged that this could
hardly be unless he had seen something suspicious.

“Well,” remarked Larry, with his favorite drawl, “I kept myself hid
just as nice as you please, and I was glad I’d been so smart;
because who should walk in here talking to the agent but Perc
himself. Seemed to be asking if any freight had come along for him,
and made out to be pretty huffy over the delay of the railroad to
deliver stuff. Got the agent to hustle around, looking to see
whether it could a-been overlooked, and hidden out of sight behind
other things. But say, when he was sure the other’s back was turned,
what did Perc do but step up to your stuff, Andy, and take a quick
look at the directions you marked on each package. Then I heard him
chuckle, step back, and measure distances with his eye; just like a
feller might do that expected to come back here in the dark and
prowl around and wanted to get his bearings well in his head!”

“Wow! now what d’ye think of that?” exclaimed Elephant, showing his
white teeth aggressively, and doubling up his diminutive fist; for,
although unusually small in stature, he was a spirited lad; just as
the little bantam rooster seems ready to fight a big Plymouth Rock,
or a Shanghai, for that matter, if the opportunity offers, and he
feels that his dignity has been affronted.

Andy nodded his head, and looked rather pleased.

“Let’em come,” he said, “it won’t be the first time I’ve lain in
wait, expecting a sneaking night visit from Percy Carberry and some
of his crowd. And history has a way of repeating itself; so in that
case he’s going to be in for a mighty unpleasant experience, or my
name isn’t Andy Bird.”

The boys had thought fit to approach the agent, and tell him that
since there was no way of locking up the heavy freight that lay
around under that shed; and they had reason to fear that an attempt
would be made to injure the crated aeroplane, they meant to watch
throughout the night. Of course, he had not the slightest objection
to offer. The company would be liable to damages should any occur,
but that would prove but sorry compensation to the Bird boys for the
loss of their aeroplane; since such a catastrophe was apt to prevent
them from accepting the warm invitation of Uncle Jethro in far-away
Arizona. And after night set in the three sentries arranged matters
to suit the plans of Andy, who had figured out a little scheme which
he believed would cover the ground, and not only warn them when
intruders started to lay hostile hands on the freight, but play
havoc with their mean plans.

The time passed slowly, and it must have been very near midnight
when they heard the first indication that prowlers were about. The
hanging door at the end of the old freight shed squeaked somewhat
when moved; and this sound came plainly to the ears of Andy and his
two chums.

They touched each other, as if to give warning, and to make sure
that no one of the guardians of the boxed aeroplanes could by any
possibility be asleep. Then they got themselves ready to meet the
intruders with a little surprise that was calculated to give them
more or less of a shock.

And as the three friends crouched there behind the boxes which they
had moved in position for this very same purpose, they heard low
faint whispering sounds that seemed to be gradually drawing closer
and closer, as though those who groped their way in the dark might
be comparing notes, and thus deciding whether they were moving along
the right track.

It looked as though the crisis might be very near; and that in
perhaps another minute they would be compelled to throw off the mask
and give the skulkers the surprise of their lives.


CHAPTER IV—THE PANIC THAT CAME TO PASS

“H’st! flash that light a little!”

These low words were plainly heard by the two concealed boys. They
came immediately after there had been some sort of head-on collision
between a couple of the prowlers, which had resulted in grunts, and
a plain unmistakable groan.

Immediately a little shaft of bright light began moving this way and
that. Some one carried a very small edition of an electric
flash-light. It gave only an apology for a glow, and yet by moving
this to the right and to the left, it would be possible to discover
obstructions, and thus avoid any further collisions.

Besides this, the eager searching eyes of the intruders would be apt
to discover the boxed aeroplane, for undoubtedly Percy was one of
the lot, and he must have marked the whereabouts of the freight
pretty accurately in his mind, at the time he wandered around with
the agent, pretending to search for his own stuff.

“I see it!” some one said, in a satisfied tone.

“Then for goodness sake show us,” grumbled another fellow, who was
possibly rubbing an injured head or arm as he spoke.

“This way, everybody; and get ready to do what I say!”

That must surely be Percy Carberry talking, though neither Andy nor
Elephant, nor yet Larry, could recognize the voice, which seemed
strangely muffled. But the closer they examined the three
approaching figures, slouching along in a half hearted way, as
though conscious of the danger that hung over their heads while thus
entering upon the property of the railroad, the more convinced Andy
and his chums became that they had some sort of muffler fastened
across the lower part of their faces, which interfered with their
voices.

Perhaps this had been done in the hope and expectation that, if by
chance they were discovered while attempting to injure the
aeroplane, they might pass for a lot of hobos attempting to pilfer
something from the railroad yards that could be sold for enough
money to buy liquor.

Andy gave each of his companions a nudge, for Elephant was ranged on
one side, while Larry crouched on the other. This was understood to
be a signal. It just as much as said, “get ready now, to let go when
you hear me start in!” And both of the others immediately drew in
the greatest breath they were capable of containing, according to
the capacity of their lungs.

That odd little glow kept wavering around in a queer manner. If
Percy were holding the electric torch in his hand he must be trying
to show his companions just how things lay, so that they could see
how to get to work.

In that moment of intense excitement none of the watchers thought of
trying to guess what sort of mischief the prowlers had in view. It
was quite enough for them to know that the precious aeroplane was
the object of their malicious scheming.

“Are you all on?” demanded a hoarse whisper.

“Yes,” came from two other quarters, for the three intruders seemed
to have ranged along side the heap of freight in as many different
quarters, as though it might be their prearranged plan to attack it
from various points.

“Then get busy with you, fellows!”

That was of course the last straw on the camel’s back. When Andy
heard these words, and realized that the attack on the boxed flying
machine was about to start in, he could hold back no longer.

“Soak ’em, tigers!” The words were shouted at the top of his voice;
and both Larry and the Small boy joined in the refrain, making all
the noise they could possibly bring to bear, according to the amount
of wind they had pent up in their lungs.

No doubt the outburst of sound must have struck terror to the hearts
of the trio of guilty skulkers, already very nervous on account of
their knowledge that they were doing a mean and criminal act. In
that minute they probably received one of the greatest shocks of
their lives. Detected in wrong-doing their consciences must have
stabbed them like sharp-pointed knives; and the possible shameful
results of being caught in the act, and held up as awful examples
before the rest of the town, gave them a wrench.

But that was not all.

Andy and his companions had made preparations for bombarding the
enemy with a shower of stones that were of no mean size. While the
scantiness of the illumination might make such a thing as taking aim
a difficult task, still, at such close quarters there were sure to
be frequent collisions between the rapidly flying missiles and some
parts of the bodies of the fleeing boys. Above the cries of the
assailants could be heard the shouts which the retreating skulkers
gave vent to, as they fell over unseen packages of freight, banged
headlong against walls that seemed strangely out of place, and
doubtless accumulated a fine collection of bumps and bruises that
would remind them of the adventure for a long time to come.

Of course, as soon as the flight was fully on, Andy and his chums
ceased bombarding the panic-stricken enemy, thinking that they had
enough troubles of their own in trying to make the partly open door
of the shed.

When he went home to supper Andy had secured a little hand torch of
his own, and one that possessed considerable more power than that
Percy had fetched along. This he now brought into play; and by
shooting the shaft of light ahead he was able to discover the three
fleeing figures nearing the exit, and sprawling every-which-way, as
they met up with obstacles of all sorts.

“Come on, let’s capture ’em!” shouted Andy, and with his companions
he started as if in hot pursuit, though of course this was meant
only as a little additional spur, to add to the alarm of the
runners.

When Andy and the other two boys broke out of the end of the freight
shed they could still hear the frightened fellows banging up against
things, for the yard was not kept as neatly as it might have been.
One flying figure that they gave chase to fell into an open culvert,
and though they looked for him, he had evidently crawled far
underneath, in his great alarm, for they could not find a trace of
the poor wretch, who must have remained there, wet and shivering,
for hours, before he mustered up enough courage to crawl out and
sneak home.

Another made a headlong plunge over a pile of scrap iron; and though
he managed to scramble excitedly to his feet, when he went off it
was hopping on one leg a good deal of the way, and with a series of
grunts that told how it hurt.

“I guess that’s enough, fellows,” wheezed Andy, for he was himself
so out of breath that he could hardly talk.

The first thing they all did was to bend over, and laugh until their
sides really ached. It doubtless looked mighty humorous to the three
who had done all the chasing; but those other fellows would have a
different story to tell, if asked. But then the old fable is always
true, and what is “fun for the boys is death to the frogs;” no
fellow ever plays a practical joke that amuses him highly, but what
some one has to pay the bill and do the crying.

So Andy led his army back once more to the interior of the freight
shed.

“Let’s look to see if they managed to do the first bit of damage,”
suggested the leader, and quickly adding, “why, looky here what
they’ve gone and left behind ’em—a hatchet, an augur, a chisel, a
screw driver—enough tools to stock a carpenter shop. Now, if we knew
who owned these, we’d have it on him pretty strong.”

But when, in the morning, Andy started an investigation, thinking
that the tools might serve to identify the three boys who had
entered the railroad freight shed bent on damaging the crated
aeroplane, he found that Percy Carberry with his customary
shrewdness had looked out for this and covered his tracks deftly.

The tools upon being exhibited were soon claimed by Mr. Mallet, the
carpenter, who said that when he reached his shop that morning he
found a window had been forced, and quite a quantity of his property
carried away. And so it was rendered impossible to identify the
rascals by the abandoned tools.

Of course, had Andy wished to carry the thing further he might have
drawn attention to the fact that Percy Carberry, Sandy Hollingshead,
and another boy often seen in their company were absent from their
customary haunts that morning; and if interviewed at home would be
found to have sundry patches of court plaster adorning their noses
and foreheads which would indicate that there must have been an
epidemic of falling out of bed on the preceding night. But of course
Andy did not mean to pursue the matter any further, believing that
“all was well that ended well,” and that the boys had already been
sufficiently punished.

What he did do immediately after leaving the shed was to call up
Frank on the phone at the drug store. Frank did not often oversleep,
but being up late on the night before, seemed to cause him to lie
abed a little later on this morning. He happened to be eating his
breakfast at the time the bell rang; and as the phone was in the
diningroom of course he answered it.

“Hello! this you, Frank?” came in a voice he recognized as belonging
to Andy.

“Yes, what’s all this row about?” answered Frank, humorously.

“Coming down here soon; I’m at the drugstore close to the station,
you know?” the other went on to say.

“What’s the matter—anything happen?” demanded the boy at the other
end of the wire as if realizing from Andy’s manner that there had
something occurred that must be out of the common.

“Sure. We had company, and the greatest old time you ever heard of,
Frank. Tell you about it when you get here. We’re going to breakfast
now, and will meet you at the freight shed later to see the stuff
packed in the car.”

“Hold on. Was there any damage done to our machine?” demanded the
other.

“Never a scratch; but it was a close shave. So-long, Frank; see you
later!” and having accomplished his object, which was to excite his
cousin’s curiosity to fever pitch, for it was seldom he had the
chance to do such a thing as this, Andy abruptly severed connections
and hurried home to get something to eat.

Frank was there all right when Andy got back to the station; and
doubtless he had managed to pick up some sort of an account of what
had happened; for he seemed to be cross-questioning one of the
freight handlers, even while examining the boxed and crated
aeroplane. Of course Andy gave him the whole story; and as both
Elephant and Larry had by this time shown up, the four of them
laughed again and again, while each of the several witnesses of the
panic related their version of the affair, adding such humorous
touches as might occur to them.

The boys agreed to let the matter drop, since Percy and his cronies
must have been sufficiently punished. Besides, being boys, they were
not inclined to be hard on other fellows; even though they felt more
or less indignation at the mean way in which Percy Carberry always
tried to even his scores.

One thing sure, they meant to hang around that station until the
precious aeroplane was not only securely placed in a car, but the
train pulled out that was to start it on its long western journey to
the far-away Arizona cattle ranch where Uncle Jethro waited to
receive them with open arms.

And there they did remain until the train pulled out and they had
the last glimpse of the precious air wonder, safely stowed in its
car and headed toward the Land of Promise.

After that the boys were content to walk home, where Frank and Andy
soon got busy again in their shop; for they had many things in
process of building, on which they could always spend a spare hour;
while Larry and Elephant hung around, ready and willing to assist if
only told how to do things.

Of course much of the conversation concerned the new and strange
sights that were likely to be the portion of the Bird boys while
spending the coming weeks upon a real Southwestern cattle ranch.
They brushed up their knowledge of things supposed to be associated
with cowboy life; but which of course had been for the most part
gleaned from books and the newspapers.

“Ten days, and perhaps our aeroplane will be there,” Andy was saying
that evening, as he and Frank locked up, preparatory to going home;
and he had been yawning for the last hour, on account of having had
so little sleep on the preceding night. “That ought to mean we must
start from here by another week, don’t you think, Frank?”

“Yes, a week from tomorrow morning would be about the right time,”
replied the other, as he turned the key in the lock and tried the
door.

Andy chuckled.

“Mighty careful about that door, I see, Frank; don’t mean to take
any chances of somebody getting in our shop, like they did once
before when we had that old lock on it. But I know just three
fellows who are not thinking of trying any caper like that tonight.
If you mentioned it to them, like as not they’d shiver all over and
look sick. Because they got the scare of their lives last night. I
just reckon they won’t feel like creeping in any old dark place for
a long time after this.”

The two cousins walked along until they came to Frank’s house when
Andy prepared to stalk off alone.

“Goodnight, Frank,” he said, “and here’s hoping that we get as good
a start as we gave the airship today. A week from tomorrow, you say?
Well, in the morning—” another big yawn—“we’ll have to get busy, and
send Uncle Jethro a long message, telling him when he can look for
us, and to have the agent out there keep a watch for our freight.
Wow! but I’m that sleepy I can hardly see straight. No, can’t stop
over with you, because I was away last night, you know, and mom
might be worried. So-long, Frank! See you again after breakfast,
when we’ll get busy with that new drag brake you’re working on, and
which ought to work like a charm.”

“Call me up on the wire when you get home, Andy,” said Frank, after
him.

“Hey! d’ye think somebody’s going to try and kidnap me on the road?”
demanded the other.

“No; but I’m afraid you may go to sleep on the way, and keep on
walking everlastingly,” called out Frank, laughingly, and then
closed the door.


CHAPTER V—WHAT THEY FOUND AT WITHERSPOON

“We’re almost there, Frank!”

“Yes, the next station is Witherspoon, the brakesman said. Got all
your traps ready, Andy?”

“Oh! I’ve had them gathered up this half hour and more. Whee! ain’t
it hot down here, though; and won’t I be glad to get out of this
stuffy sleeper?”

The two cousins had made the long journey at a pretty rapid pace,
and at the time these words passed between them, were nearing the
end. They had for some time skirted deserts and mountains that
looked very strange to their Northern eyes. And when occasionally
they caught fugitive glimpses of distant herds of cattle grazing on
some miles of grass lands bordering the course of a hidden stream,
naturally their thoughts went out to what they expected to see when
they had arrived at the cattle ranch of Andy’s uncle.

“Uncle Jethro must be a man of some importance down this way,” Andy
went on to say, “when they go so far as to even name the station
after him.” At that Frank chuckled.

“Well,” he remarked, drily, “if it looks like some we’ve seen, that
isn’t paying your relative a very great honor; because they were the
most terrible tumbledown places I ever did set eyes on. But let’s
hope Witherspoon will turn out to be something different.”

“Frank, I do believe the train’s beginning to slacken up right now!”
cried Andy, all of a tremble with eagerness.

“You’re right it is and here comes our friend the brakesman to help
us off with all our truck,” observed the other Bird boy, who did not
show his excitement as much, although no doubt he too was quivering
with the anticipation of the coming introduction to Western ways.

Presently the train came to a stop, and the boys having reached the
platform of the sleeper stepped off.

As they did so there was a loud whoop from a dozen lusty throats.
Looking in the direction from whence these vociferous sounds
proceeded they saw a collection of rough and ready picturesque
cowboys, just like those who had appeared in the moving picture
plays which Frank and Andy had enjoyed from time to time in the
little playhouse in Bloomsbury.

They were on foot, but their horses could be seen hitched along a
rail close by, and exhibiting more or less of spirit because of the
hissing engine, to which they were evidently not accustomed.

Frank had just shaken hands with the accommodating brakesman, and
tipped the colored porter of the sleeper, when he discovered Andy
caught in the arms of a tall man, whose snow-white mustache and
goatee gave him a distinguished appearance.

Of course this could be no other than Uncle Jethro. Frank knew he
would like the ranchman from the start, and that nearly everybody
must. While his word was law in that section, at the same time the
owner of the ranch was a genial gentleman, whom most of his cowboy
hands thought so much of, that they would be willing to go through
fire and flood at any time to serve him.

Frank at first sight thought Uncle Jethro looked like a Kentucky
Colonel; and that impression never left him.

“So, this is Frank Bird, is it?” exclaimed the cattleman, hurrying
over with extended hand which closed on that of the boy with a vim
that made him wince. “Well, it does my heart good to see you both.
We’re going to try and give you the time of your lives down here.
Yes, your freight is in the house yonder, and we’re prepared to haul
it to the ranch right away. I must say I’m pleased to find you both
such a hearty looking lot. And a spell out in this free air will do
you a world of good. But won’t you come over and shake hands with my
boys; they’re just wild to meet you. For ten days, now, all the talk
around here has been of flying machines. Most of us have never seen
such a thing; and you’d laugh yourselves sick to hear the guesses
that have been made about what they look like. Most of the boys are
of the opinion it’s only a big gas balloon. Here you are, and now
let me do the honors.”

The train had already pulled out, so that they had the little
Arizona station to themselves. One by one the cow punchers stepped
up, and were properly introduced to each of the Bird boys in turn;
generally with some little side remarks that might apply to their
appearance or the name they went by.

In this way the newcomers felt that they already knew considerable
about their new friends, even before they had met them five minutes.
Cowboys as a rule are not a hard lot to get acquainted with; they
are blunt and open and full of questions.

It could be seen that the two boys from the Far East were objects of
intense curiosity to every one of the bunch. They watched them
closely, just as though some were secretly of the opinion that Frank
and Andy might at any moment suddenly develop a pair of wings that
they had up to then kept hidden about their persons, call out a
hasty goodbye, and bob up in the air as easy as the ordinary
cowpuncher would hurl himself on his pony.

“Now, let’s see about getting your freight started, boys,” called
out Uncle Jethro, after this ceremony had been completed, and the
newcomers had been duly welcomed with hearty handshakes by the
grinning punchers. “You see, we fetched a big wagon along, with four
horses; and likely enough that will get the stuff out home by night.
If it looks hard, I’ll send back another lot of horses to help pull.
And your trunk can go along with you on the back of the carryall.
The boys wanted to fetch mounts for you both, but I reckoned that
you might not be wholly as much at home on the back of a pony as in
your flying machine, so I drove in myself.”

Frank thought that was very kind and considerate of Uncle Jethro;
who must have known that the wild spirits among the cowboys would be
apt to make it a bit unpleasant for greenhorns who were unused to
their harum-scarum ways when in the saddle. Wait until they had been
there a week, and he believed that he and Andy might be able to hold
their own fairly well; for both of them had done more or less
horseback riding, such as is practiced on Eastern roads, and which
must be pretty tame compared with the dash of these reckless riders
of the range.

The whole lot trooped after them when they accompanied the cattleman
to the little freight house. Here their precious aeroplane was
found, and so far as they were able to tell from a quick survey of
the outside, not the slightest injury had been done during its long
journey. This was doubtless due at least to the care the boys had
shown in crating and boxing the various parts; and which experience
had taught them just how to go about.

Amid more or less excitement and shouting the big wagon was backed
up to the door of the freight shed; and then, under the directions
of Frank, the loading began. No lack of willing hands, when every
one of those sturdy fellows seemed just wild for a chance to just
touch the wonderful flying machine, of which they had heard so many
stories, most of which they did not believe, of course; for it
seemed like a yarn from the Arabian Nights or Baron Munchausen, this
idea of mere boys going up in the air thousands of feet, in a shell
of a machine, with a little buzzing motor attached to it; or flying
hundreds of miles over the wild forests away down in South America,
where they were said to have found the long-lost father of Frank.

All the same, they handled the crates with more or less tenderness.
Although no doubt most of them had already decided that it was
pretty much of a fake, and that they would be a sold lot by another
day, still they were as eager as a parcel of eight year old lads to
see what was coming. Talk about the excitement that strikes an
Eastern country town when the circus arrives, it could not bear any
comparison with the feverish spirit that possessed those jostling
cow punchers as they heaved and tugged and loaded up the wagon just
as Frank wanted.

When the last crate had been placed on top, the heavier engine being
away under all the rest, Frank saw to it that stout ropes secured
the whole. And watching just how the boy directed these things,
Uncle Jethro nodded his head toward his foreman, Waldo Kline, and
winked one eye, just as if to say, “He’ll do!”

Finally all seemed ready, and the horses were apparently anxious to
start on the return journey; for quite a number of miles lay between
the station where cattle were shipped, and the ranch buildings
proper.

Uncle Jethro last of all cautioned the driver to take his time, no
matter how long the trip seemed. Not for worlds would he have any
upset occur, or a runaway take place. If any injury were done the
precious flying machine at this stage of its long journey he would
never forgive the one responsible for the trouble. They had waited
so long to see the wonderful contraption really sail through the air
that he would not answer for what the rest of the boys would do,
should they find themselves disappointed.

After that it might be set down for granted that the driver would
exercise more than ordinary care in transporting the freight. If an
accident should happen the chances were he would feel like mounting
a horse immediately and putting for the railroad, to board a train,
fearful for his life.

Having strapped the trunk on behind the carryall in which Frank and
Andy were already seated, the joyous bunch of punchers made a rush
for their horses. The two Easterners watched eagerly to see whether
the pictures did them full justice in mounting; and on the whole
they were not in the least disappointed; for every fellow seemed to
have his own odd way of flinging himself into the saddle; and the
instant the pony felt his weight there would be an upheaval and some
tall jumping about, until the rider found his seat, and thrust his
toes into the stirrups, and from that instant he seemed to become a
part of the animal itself.

“Great, isn’t it, Frank? I’ve pictured that lots of times, but never
thought I’d see it with my own eyes. And they seem to be a bully
bunch of fellows, warm-hearted as the day is long; and I guess we’re
going to like it down here, all right!”

Frank thought just the same as Andy seemed to, even though he had
not as yet expressed himself that way. Among the dozen cow punchers
they would doubtless find a number who would become fast friends;
others they might not happen to fancy as well, perhaps on account of
some peculiarities, or it might be a retiring disposition on the
part of the nomads. But first impressions count for a lot; and it
must be confessed that both of the Bird boys were mighty well
pleased with their hearty reception by the outfit connected with the
Double X Ranch. “All ready?” called out Mr. Witherspoon; and as no
one said anything to the contrary he waved his hand to the circling
boys.

Immediately a series of shrill “yip-yips” broke out, as the riders
went tearing off at a furious pace, to wheel presently and come
charging headlong down toward the carryall, waving their hats, and
carrying on as though possessed.

“Don’t mind ’em, boys,” remarked Uncle Jethro, complacently.
“They’ve just got to work off some of the surplus energy that this
free life seems to stow up in a man. You’ll be doing the same before
you’re here a week, mark my words. But I have got as fine a bunch of
boys as ever threw leg over a bucking broncho; and you’ll say as
much when you get to know the most of them. Not that they haven’t
got their faults, but we overlook small things out in this big
country, you know, where the sky seems to bend down and touch the
earth all around you. Now, step lively along there, Dexter and
Silas, you ornery mules, hit up a pace!”


CHAPTER VI—AT THE DOUBLE X RANCH

The Bird Boys would not soon forget that invigorating ride. On all
sides they saw a thousand things that excited their wonder; and
which they did not hesitate to ask about. And Uncle Jethro was only
too willing to explain; he wanted these bright-faced boys who had
come to visit him, to learn all about the things with which they
would come in daily contact, and the sooner the better.

From this time on there would be a complete change in the air around
Frank and Andy. The talk of the cowboys was along the line of ranch
life; and by degrees many of the phrases that went to describe such
things entering into the daily life of these wild plains riders,
would become familiar to the “tenderfeet.”

They saw the cactus that grew along the border of the desert; the
tufts of what Uncle Jethro called “buffalo grass,” possibly because
the bison that formerly covered these same plains in countless tens
of thousands used to feed upon it; watched the queer antics of a
village of prairie dogs they passed on the way to the ranch; and
heard the boys speak of a muddy hole as a “buffalo wallow,” though
the chances were it had been half a century since such an animal had
lain down to rid himself of the flies, by wallowing in the mud and
water that came from a rainfall.

Here were a few stray cattle which the rancher termed “Mavericks;”
and called to the foreman to mark down, so they could be rounded-up
and branded on the morrow; there they overtook an Indian family on
the move, with a calico horse harnessed to a couple of long
drag-poles, upon which were piled all their worldly possessions,
including the squaw herself and a dusky papoose; and once in the
distance they saw a line of white-topped wagons that gave the boys a
thrill, thinking of those old days when emigrants were in the habit
of crossing the plains in such vehicles; until Uncle Jethro kindly
explained that this was a freighter’s caravan, the prairie schooners
being loaded with supplies for the mines that were located away up
in the mountains, where it was difficult to get such material, the
smelting being done on the ground, and only the pure copper shipped
out to the market.

It was altogether too short a ride, Andy loudly declared, when his
uncle announced that the ranch buildings were in sight ahead. He had
seen so many new and interesting sights that he thought he could
never drink in enough of this air, heated though it might be.

All the same, both lads looked eagerly ahead, anxious to know what
the Double X Ranch would turn out to be like.

They saw a cluster of white buildings, none of them over one story
in height; and partly surrounded by green trees, that had doubtless
influenced the owner to make his headquarters in this particular
spot, where good water was to be had in abundance.

Already the boys had started on a gallop for the house, whooping as
usual. A genuine happy-go-lucky cow puncher is probably about the
noisiest creature on the face of the earth; he never seems to be
fully satisfied unless he is making some sort of a racket, either
chasing cattle, cavorting on his pony amidst his comrades, or
shooting up a border town when on one of his “pay-day” outings.

Before they reached the buildings they had drawn close enough to the
passing freight caravan for the boys to even hear the vicious crack
of the teamster’s long blacksnake whips, and to hear a choice
collection of words when some little accident happened to delay the
creaking wagons a brief time. Uncle Jethro was an old bachelor. He
had a very efficient housekeeper in a Mrs. Ogden, a middle-aged
widow, whose husband had been some sort of cousin to the owner of
the ranch, and connected with him slightly in the business, at the
time he died.

A beaming Celestial cook, who sailed under the name of Charley Woo,
looked after the kitchen, and seemed to satisfy the demands of the
vigorous punchers. When he was out with the boys in charge of the
“grub wagon,” during their round-ups, those left at home were well
taken care of by the housekeeper herself.

Everything was so fine that both Andy and Frank knew they were going
to have the time of their lives; and would begrudge the days that
slipped past. They meant to soak in all the information possible, as
well as show these dashing riders that if they were greenhorns in
all that was connected with cattle punching, at least they occupied
a high standard when it came to bold exploits away up in the clouds.

During the remainder of the day they went here and there, making
fresh discoveries at every turn, and fairly saturating themselves
with the multitude of things that were associated with this new
life.

One of the cowboys in particular had attracted the attention of
Andy; and Frank also admitted having taken an immediate liking for
the same fellow. He was a lively boy, full of vim and go, and yet
with something winning about his ways. They called him “Buckskin,”
and it was quite a long time before either of the newcomers learned
that he had another name, Oliver Cromwell Jones.

He seemed more eager to hear about the exploits of the young
aviators than any of the rest; though for that matter they were
every one of them hanging around every minute they could spare from
their duties, showing the newcomers their bunkhouse, the big
stables, the enclosure where the saddle band of horses was usually
kept when not in use, and everything else they could think of, until
both Andy and Frank felt that they were growing confused under so
much attention.

And what pleased Frank most of all was a rude building or shed which
Uncle Jethro had had built to serve as a hangar for the biplane.
Where he got his ideas from they did not know; but it must have been
some magazine article; because the affair seemed to answer all
requirements; though of course it was a mere shed, and not intended
to be locked up.

But such a thing as injury coming to the precious aeroplane in this
isolated place never once occurred to the boys. Surely there was no
malicious Percy Carberry, and his shadow Sandy Hollingshead, away
down here to want to render the biplane worthless for use; and every
one of the punchers acted as though he believed the greatest treat
of his whole life would arrive when he actually saw with his own
eyes those daring young aviators mount upward toward the sky, until
they seemed like a mere speck in the blue vault.

There was one occupant of the ranch building whom the boys were
pleased indeed to meet. This was a little fairy of five, named
Becky, a blue-eyed child, daughter of a niece of Mr. Witherspoon,
who had departed this life. She was a winsome little thing, and the
cow punchers seemed to fairly worship her.

Frank guessed that there was a little mystery attached to her, but
he did not mean to seem curious, and ask any questions. In due time
they learned from Buckskin that this niece had run away with a
dashing Mexican named Jose Sandero; and after being cruelly treated
by him, had fled once more across the border, arriving with her tiny
baby at the Double X Ranch so worn out with fatigue that she had
soon passed away. Her child had been left to Uncle Jethro; but not
wanting to risk any chances, he had taken legal means to make
himself the guardian of little Becky. And ever since she had been
the sunlight of the whole ranch. The boys would stop in the midst of
any wordy war, or wild singing, just to listen to the music of her
sweet childish voice, that seemed capable of arousing all the best
emotions in their natures.

Nothing had ever been seen of the father, and it was taken for
granted that he must either be dead, or never wanted to attempt to
claim his child. And, Buckskin declared that if ever he did show up
round that region, he stood the finest possible chance of pulling
hemp that any man ever knew.

That supper was one never to be forgotten. With the smiling Chinaman
waiting on the noisy crowd, and appeasing every demand, Andy thought
he had never enjoyed anything half so much in all his life. He had
often camped out, and eaten the fare that is so greatly relished by
every healthy lad with red blood in his veins, but there were so
many things connected with this meal at the long table, where some
ten ranch riders sat, and exchanged comments characteristic of their
occupation, with everything so strange to the tenderfoot, that it
made a deep impression on both the newcomers, never to be
eradicated.

Then the punchers trooped off to their bunkhouse, to leave the
travelers alone, for they felt that they needed considerable of a
rest to make up for the fatigues of their long journey.

The man who drove the double team connected with the wagon must have
coaxed considerable speed out of them after all without meeting with
any accident on the road, for the freight had shown up an hour
before sunset, and ere the call came for supper it had all been
safely stowed away in the rude hangar, where Frank and his cousin
could work at it on the morrow.

It was rather early when the boys sought their comfortable little
room, where the white sheets invited them to sound slumber; and the
soft night breeze fanned their cheeks, coming through the many
windows that were always open.

They sat at the window some time, talking in low tones about many of
the strange things they had already seen, and speculating on how
this dry air of the desert border would affect them, when they made
their first ascension.

Far away the mysterious lowing of herds came faintly to their ears;
they could also catch the whinnying of horses in the stockade; and
now and then the sound of music in the shape of a deftly manipulated
accordion; or it might be the soft twanging of a Mexican mandolin,
while one of the boys warbled softly about some black-eyed senorita
he had left behind him in the country of the dons.

After a while the cousins decided that they ought to be in bed, and
getting rested for the labors that awaited them in the morning. And
once they threw themselves down, they were lost to the world in a
few minutes.

Of course they dreamed as every boy does pretty much all the time.
And it was only natural that Andy’s mind should go back while he
slept to other days, when he and Frank were engaged in the hottest
of races with their rival, Percy Carberry, who was just as deeply
interested in all matters connected with aviation as they had been.

Many a time had they found themselves compelled to sit up and guard
their property when they had by some successful exploit aroused the
worse elements in the jealous nature of this rival. And even now,
though removed from the home town and Percy by several thousand
miles, Andy had to dream that once again a dark cloud was hovering
over their fortunes, and all caused by the hatred of this boy who
for more than two years had been the one thorn in their flesh.

So vivid had been his dream that Andy actually suddenly awoke with a
low cry, and sat up in bed, trembling all over.

“What’s the matter?” demanded Frank, also springing up.

Before Andy could frame any sort of answer, owing to the confusion
of ideas that seemed to be tumbling pell mell through his brain,
both of them were thrilled to hear a voice from somewhere outside
shouting:

“Wake up! help! help! fire! Whoop! get busy there, fellows!”

As though governed by a couple of springs the cousins leaped from
their comfortable bed, and rushing over to one of the windows that
looked toward where the new shed covering the precious aeroplane
stood, they saw a sight that thrilled as well as alarmed them.


CHAPTER VII—A PRETTY CLOSE CALL

“Oh! it’s our hangar on fire!” gasped Andy.

“Quick, get into something then, and out we go!” cried Frank, always
the prompt one to act in an emergency.

Andy hardly knew how he ever did manage to drag on a pair of
trousers, and his shoes. His hands were shaking so he could hardly
do what he aimed to accomplish; and all the while the shouts were
increasing in violence, as well as that terrible light growing
brighter.

By the time he had managed to get the second shoe on, Frank was
already outside; and having seen how easily the other jumped through
the window to the ground, Andy hastened to follow his example.

Already there was a group of the punchers at work; and the clear
commanding tones of Mr. Witherspoon’s voice could be heard telling
them just what to do. Fortunately it had always been a set principle
of the rancher to prepare for war in time of peace, and he had a
drilled fire department, with the hose and extinguisher handy.

Every fellow knew just where he fitted in; and perhaps it was this
very system that prevented much damage being done. Instead of great
confusion, with each eager fire-fighter getting in the way of the
others, and nothing worth while being accomplished, the genius at
the head of the combination saw that every man occupied the place
that had been laid out for him.

And when several chemical fire extinguishers started to get busy, it
was a losing fight with that conflagration; though possibly had it
been given another quarter of an hour in which to get a firm grip on
the contents of the shed, there must have been a far different story
to tell.

All this while the boys seemed to feel their hearts choking them
with burning anxiety. What if after all their precious aeroplane
should be injured after so successfully passing through the perils
of that long journey! It was like a slap in the face, as Andy termed
it.

And it may be readily understood that, when the water with which
that end of the long shed had thoroughly drenched the last spark of
fire, so that it was safe to enter, they hurried in alongside Uncle
Jethro, who was breathing all sorts of bitterness toward the one
whose carelessness had brought about this accident, both Frank and
his cousin were in a feverish state of suspense.

Eagerly they made the rounds escorted by the equally anxious
Buckskin and the other range riders. It was almost pitiful to see
how these usually loud voiced fellows now had not a whisper to
spare; but just watched the faces of the young aviators, and waited
to hear the verdict.

And then, when finally the rounds had been made, and Frank gave it
as his opinion that no damage worth mentioning had come about, it
seemed as though the very roof of that shed would be fairly lifted
from its supports by the volume of the lusty shouts that soared
upwards from the leather-lined throats of Buckskin and his
companions.

Those who had been slightly burned in fighting the blaze went around
showing the red marks with the pride that a warrior might in his
scars of battle; and the forlorn chaps who had come off unscathed
felt sorry because they had not seen to it that they secured their
share of the hall marks of fame when they had the chance.

Each cowboy had to line up and shake hands with Frank and Andy,
while he offered congratulations on the lucky outcome of what at one
time had threatened to be a national misfortune. And they looked as
happy over it as though some rich uncle had suddenly stepped off,
leaving them a fortune; or a big cattle ranch, which is the cowboy
conception of great good luck.

But Mr. Witherspoon was not so easily satisfied. That fire had not
started of its own account. Either some one had been exceedingly
careless, criminally so, or else there was a mystery back of its
happening; and he meant to know which of the two possibilities was
the truth.

So he started an investigation right on the spot, with the half-clad
punchers brought up before him one after the other. It was easily
proven who had been last at the shed; but this was one of the oldest
and most reliable of the force, a man by the name of Steady Matt;
and he declared that when he left the new building it was perfectly
safe, nor had he seen a single match struck by a cowboy while
there—this being one of the little fads of the rancher, who was next
door to a crank concerning the careless use of matches about the
place.

“Now, the boys, they seem to reckon, Mr. Witherspoon, that it might
a-been the work of an outside party; leastwise, that’s what they
say,” remarked Buckskin, when the examination seemed about to end,
without any one being a bit the wiser.

“Oh! is that so, Buckskin?” ejaculated the rancher, looking
immediately interested. “Suppose you tell me, then, what they are
talking about. We’ve had our little differences with Major Cloud and
his Circle Ranch crowd; but I wouldn’t want to think any man who
ever threw a leg over a pony’s back, or snapped a quirt as he
rounded up cattle, could be guilty of such a nasty job as trying to
burn a neighbor’s buildings.”

“’Tain’t them, Mr. Witherspoon,” the puncher went on to say,
earnestly, as he slapped his leather chaps with the stick he held;
“p’raps Rustler Carlos’d fill the bill more like, sir.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put such a job past that sneak one minute,”
declared the rancher, promptly, “and he certainly has plenty of
cause to hate me, after the way we took that bunch of stolen
long-horns away from him last spring, and gave him a close call
before he could cross the border into Mexico. But he hasn’t been
heard of around here since then; so it must be only a wide guess you
boys are making. But I’d a thousand times rather think that, than
have a man in my employ be careless, or ready to play a low-down
trick like that.”

“If we thought it was done a purpose, Mr. Witherspoon, and could
find out the feller that done it, there’d be some queer fruit
a-growin’ on one of them telegraph poles along the Santa Fe
railroad; ain’t it so, boys?” and the indignant Buckskin turned
around upon the cluster of listening hustlers.

The instantaneous shout of wild approval that greeted these words
would have convinced any listener of the evident sincerity of the
group. If there was one among them who had yielded to any sort of
temptation, it was evident that he could not be easily persuaded to
make a second attempt. But after all, it seemed silly to think such
a thing could be true; when the Bird boys did not have an enemy down
here in this new country, where every one had been an utter stranger
until now.

“But let’s forget all about it,” said Frank, at this juncture. “Not
a speck of harm has been done, and we’re as sure that no one here
would dream of trying to injure our machine as we are that we draw
breath.”

“Bully for you, Frank!” shouted one of the punchers; and of course
another wild cheer had to allow some of the pent-up enthusiasm to
break loose.

Had any one been passing along the trail that led to the mines, and
which ran about a mile from the ranch buildings, and heard all this
clamor at dead of night, he must have been greatly puzzled to
account for the racket; and possibly think that the Double X outfit
were making a night of it with good cheer.

“There’s one thing sure,” said Uncle Jethro, positively, “after this
we’re not going to let this flying machine of yours, boys, lie
unguarded. I leave it to my foreman, Waldo Kline, here, to see that
it holds safe; and he’ll be accountable to me for it.”

“Wow! we’ll all camp around it, if so be he says the word!” cried
Buckskin, with a look toward his chums, which brought out
encouraging comments.

“Come on back to the house, Frank and Andy,” remarked the rancher,
“and you can just as well make up your minds that after this no
piece of property was ever so jealously guarded as your machine will
be. I’m sorry for the wretch that tried to do it any injury after
this. He’ll sure believe he’s run up against the biggest hurricane
ever, the way those boys will rustle him.” And Frank believed him.

He went back deeply thankful that no harm had befallen the aeroplane
before it made its maiden trip in those Arizona hot airs; and yet
puzzled to account for the fire.

“Do you really think it was an accident, Frank?” asked Andy, when
they found themselves once more alone in their little room.

“Ask me something easy, won’t you?” replied the other, as he
prepared to crawl into bed again. “I wish I did know the truth,
because I don’t like this thing of suspecting any fellow, when he
may be as innocent as you and me. But honest now, I can’t bring
myself to believe that it was an accident.”

“Well, there may be something in that story about the Mexican they
call Rustler Carlos,” Andy went on to say. “Buckskin was telling me
some things about his doings around this region some years back. He
cut a pretty wide swathe, they say; and in his many ‘drives’ carried
off hundreds of fat cattle across the border into Mexico, where it
wasn’t safe for Americans to go, because they sort of hate Gringoes
down there, you know.”

“Yes, I understand,” Frank added, “and just as Uncle Jethro said, he
was the first to really break up this fine and profitable rustler
business of the cattle thieves. This Carlos must hate him with all
the fury his breed can show. And if he ever did have nerve enough to
run up this way again, I guess he’d be glad to try and do the Double
X Ranch people a rough turn, if he saw the chance. But perhaps we’ll
know more about this thing some time later.”

“Yes,” Andy went on to say, a little vindictively, for he had been
much worked up over the threatened destruction of the planes and
woodwork of the aeroplane; “and if this Rustler Carlos should happen
around again, I reckon it’ll be hardly worth mentioning what they
won’t do to him. I never saw fellows madder than these boys seem to
be right now. And Frank, I kind of think they’ve taken a great
liking to you, on so short an acquaintance.”

“Better say yourself, Andy,” retorted the other immediately;
“because everybody nearly does, that meets you. Now roll over, and
quit thinking about the thing. It’s all right, and no damage done,
so go to sleep like a good fellow. You won’t get a single word out
of me, I warn you.”

And Andy knowing that his cousin meant it did proceed to chase all
thoughts of the recent excitement from his mind, so that he might
settle down again into a sound sleep, for it seemed that midnight
had no more than passed, so that a long period still remained before
the coming of dawn awoke them.

There was no further alarm.

Doubtless that cordon of slumbering cowboys lying around the new
shed formed so close a protection, that even a wandering rattlesnake
could hardly have passed the line without being challenged.

And when Frank opened his eyes again, the light of day was shining
in through the two windows facing the east; so that, hearing sounds
that told of breakfast being made ready, he gave Andy a kick,
telling him to bestir himself, if he hoped to start the day rightly
by appearing at early breakfast with the rest of the Double X
outfit.


CHAPTER VIII—THE BRONCHO BUSTER MEETS HIS MATCH

Such a busy day as they put in.

It was hard for the foreman to influence the cow-punchers to look
after their customary avocations, for they wanted to be hanging
around that hangar all the time, watching Frank and Andy assemble
the various queer parts of the delicate contraption that, when
completed would be called a biplane.

The idea that any one would dare trust himself in such a little
contrivance, and soar like the white-headed eagle away up above the
clouds, staggered the belief of these fellows; all of whom wanted to
be “shown” before they would be willing to admit that such a
wonderful thing could ever come to pass.

They looked on the Bird boys with almost reverence. Such pluck and
daring outdistanced their own reckless horseback plunging as far as
the sun outshines the yellow moon.

Some of them tried their very best to make themselves useful, and
even pleaded with the boys to think up some way in which they could
“run and fetch,” so that the foreman would excuse them from going
out on the range after stray mavericks, or rounding up bunches of
cattle that may have strayed toward the dangerous coulies of the
mountains, where all sorts of danger would await them.

But as they needed no assistance whatever, Frank had to shake his
head, even to the persistent Buckskin, for he knew that if he
favored one it would create bad feeling among the rest and this was
something to be avoided, so early in their acquaintance with these
warm-hearted but impulsive cattle punchers.

When noon came the aeroplane was taking shape, and beginning to look
like something. A little help was needed when it came to installing
the motive power; but there was plenty to be had; in a pinch even
the grinning Charley Woo would have been willing to lend a hand;
although he had privately announced it as his opinion that if this
wonderful affair, that looked so much like the big box-kites flown
in his native country, could sail away above the clouds, they would
never set eyes on the two bold young navigators again; and he also
said that Mr. Witherspoon ought to keep control of the flying
machine by means of a rope, so that he could pull it down when he
thought best.

It was really wonderful how quickly all the boys got through with
their jobs on this particular day. Where under ordinary conditions
they would not have shown up at the ranch house until evening, they
now came galloping in like mad by two o’clock, and before three had
arrived not a single puncher was out on the range.

Mr. Witherspoon smiled and nodded his head good-naturedly when he
noticed this significant fact.

“Already your coming has borne fruit, you see,” he remarked to
Frank; “and if it keeps up we’re going to have the greatest lot of
hustlers here at the Double X Ranch you ever heard tell of. They can
do things like lightning these days. And look at the way they hang
around, just devouring both of you boys with stares. I guess you’ve
got them locoed for a fact,” and when Frank, who wanted to know what
everything meant, stopped him right there to ask for an explanation,
the obliging rancher told how there was a certain weed known as the
loco, which, when cattle indulged in it, made them crazy for a time,
so that they were apt to rush into streams and be drowned, or pitch
pell mell over precipices in their blindness and excitement.

About four o’clock Frank announced that everything was ready for the
first ascent and the feverish punchers could hardly contain
themselves. It needed only a word to get them to do anything that
was required; for the time being they were ready to act as slaves,
if by so doing they could hasten developments.

There was a splendid level stretch upon which the first run could be
made; indeed, that was one beauty of aeroplaning on the plains,
where difficulties would not be met with in landing, or making an
ascent.

Frank gave the signal, and willing hands assisted in starting the
strange affair with its box-like wings. Charley Woo hid behind a
pile of crate material as though really fearing that the spirits of
the air might be offended by this bold invasion, and start to visit
their vengeance on the whole lot who had assisted in the work.

But the cowboys jumped for their horses, and mounting like a flash,
started to gallop after the young aviators, fully expecting that
they would have the mournful office of gathering up their remains,
and transporting them back to the ranch house.

Judge of their astonishment and wild delight when they saw the
aeroplane leave the earth, take a turn upward when the forward plane
was elevated, and start in the direction of the few fleecy, floating
white clouds that hovered overhead.

How they yelled and shrieked and pranced about as though they had
really and truly lost their heads. And then, gathering in a bunch
they watched the wonderful evolutions which those skilful air pilots
put their willing steed through, as thoroughly entranced as though
they had been put under the magic power of a wizard.

Frank was not taking unnecessary chances. He wanted to know the
conditions of this new country before attempting any of the more
difficult maneuvers which he and Andy were accustomed to carrying
out in their home circles, where they understood the wind and its
peculiarities to a dot.

But the most simple trick was greeted with hoarse shouts by that
cluster of eager watchers below. And when the young aviators began
to bore up and up in circle until they were fully six thousand feet
high, the amazed and delighted spectators almost broke their necks
staring after them, afraid lest they miss a part of the spectacle if
they so much as turned away for a single instant.

Then again they came circling down in great loops, while the little
gathering near the ranch house stood and gaped and wondered if they
were really awake, or passing through a vivid dream of enchantment.

The conditions being favorable, Frank gave his companion due warning
as to what he was about to do, and then started to volplane
downward. Immediately cries of horror broke out from those intrepid
range riders, who naturally believed something must have broken
aboard the aeroplane, and that the Bird Boys were now being hurled
to earth, from which they would later on be picked up lifeless.

When they saw the flying machine suddenly recover a level position,
and with the merry hum of the motor start again to spin along, about
two hundred feet above their heads, the punchers fell into each
others’ arms, as though too weak to stand up any longer.

Shortly afterwards Frank brought his aerial steed to a landing just
at the very point where he had taken his departure half an hour
before; and so lightly did the heavier-than-air machine settle that
it seemed as though an egg could hardly have been broken by the
impact, had it come between.

They were immediately overwhelmed with warm congratulations because
of the marvelous work they had done while aloft. It had been only
the common, every-day experience of Frank and Andy; but in the eyes
of these untamed Western spirits was wonderful beyond compare.

“Here’s Buckskin been boasting that if you boys could go up, he
guessed he could too. Take him for a little airing, Frank. Let him
make good, or shut up!” one of the cowboys exclaimed.

“Would you like to try a little spin, Buckskin; Andy here will make
way for you if you say the word?” Frank asked.

Now, the aforesaid Buckskin would have instantly declined but they
had him in a hole, where he must take water, or else put on a bold
front. And as a cowboy invariably hates to back down, once he has
made his boast, he tried to look quite indifferent as he replied:

“Sure I’d like to take a little turn of a dozen miles or two with
you, Frank, if you’ll ask me. I ain’t had no experience in ridin’
one of them cantankerous mounts; but they can’t find a broncho able
to throw me; and who’s afraid, anyhow? Tell me what to do, and show
me how to do it, and I’m there all to the good, and wool a yard
wide.”

So Andy climbed down, and the cowboy, sheepskin chaps and all, took
his place. He made out to be utterly at his ease; and it was only
Frank who knew from personal contact just how Buckskin was trembling
all the while.

“All you have to do is to sit perfectly still; and don’t offer to do
anything to help me. If I want any assistance I’ll sing out for it,”
was the way the pilot of the biplane laid down the law; and Buckskin
promised faithfully that he would adhere to the rules of the game to
the letter.

The start was made just as perfectly as before, and then Frank began
to perform a number of simple evolutions before making a try for
altitude.

The dazed cowboy may have had a smile on his face all the while, but
it was of the kind that won’t come off, virtually frozen there. He
clutched the seat with rigid fingers, and stared out straight to
where in the distance he could see the summit of Mount Baker, said
to be seven thousand feet high, but which he believed was far below
his lofty eyrie.

Once, when he did catch faint yells from the crowd so far below him,
Buckskin mustered up assurance enough to take off his hat, and wave
it several times; but never once would he look straight down toward
where the others were cheering him to the echo. When finally, after
a whole lot of turning, until his senses fairly reeled, he heard
Frank say that they were nearly through, the scared cowboy regained
courage enough to send a sickly grin down at his comrades. Of course
Frank would not think of volplaning with a greenhorn aboard, as the
chances were, he would take fright and either leap out under the
impression that they were bound to have a smash-up anyhow, or else
make some frantic move that would endanger the very lives of both
occupants of the biplane.

And so they landed as neatly as any pilot of an air craft could
possibly do. The relieved Buckskin almost dazed, managed to drop
from his perch, his hands to be warmly shaken by his chums, while
they assured him that he had done the whole outfit proud by his
recent gallant act.

But it might have been noticed that Buckskin never again ventured to
accompany either one of the Bird boys aloft. He vowed that it was
the finest experience he had ever known, and one that he would not
have missed for a fortune; but all the same, he knew when he had had
enough; and the other fellows could try their hands at copying the
old eagle, if they wished; the land was good enough for him, all
right. After the business of the day had been completed the
aeroplane was once more successfully stowed away in its handy
hangar, which was amply large enough to accommodate it even when the
planes were extended.

It was just at this time Mr. Witherspoon beckoned Frank and Andy to
cross over to where he was standing, having come out of the house.

“Please give me a few minutes of your time, boys,” he said gravely,
“something has happened since you went up that seems to possibly
throw a light on what happened last night,” and a minute later, as
the three sat down in his little office or den, the genial rancher
went on to remark, “tell me, was the name of that evil genius of
yours, who tried all he could to injure you two, Percy Carberry, or
something like that?”


CHAPTER IX—FIGURING IT ALL OUT

“What’s that you say, Uncle Jethro?” exclaimed Andy, his face
wreathed in an expression of sheer astonishment; for it gave him a
tremendous shock to hear that nightmare of a name, Percy, mentioned
away out here in Arizona.

“I’m sure,” the rancher went on, “you said something to me about a
scamp who was forever trying to do you both an ill turn up around
home; and unless I’m mistaken, you also told me he was the only son
of a wealthy but foolish widow, who supplied him with all the money
he asked for. The first name was Percy, that I’d swear; and the last
one began with the letters C-a-r, now didn’t it, boys?”

“Carberry, that’s it, uncle,” burst out Andy.

“But what makes you ask that, sir?” demanded Frank, looking
curiously at what seemed to be a scrap of paper in the fingers of
the gentleman.

“This is what made me mention it; it is apparently a small part of a
letter that some one at this place must have received not a great
while back, and which he thought best to destroy; but one of the
fragments lodged in a bush; and when my foreman chanced to notice
it, and idly picked it up, he was interested in the few words he
could make out, so he brought it to me. Here, take a look for
yourselves, boys, and tell me what you think.”

On the piece of paper with the ragged edges there could only be made
out some dozen or two words; a portion of these being incomplete,
though easily guessed.

These ran irregularly, and might be set down in something like the
following order: “Fifty dolla—good job of it—anyway you like—burn it
to cinde—hear how it—ld friend, Percy Car——”

Andy nearly had a fit when he read this; Frank, on his part, felt
the blood boil within him, though better able to conceal the state
of his feelings, or rather control his temper, than his impulsive
cousin.

“Why, just think of that, would you?” exclaimed Andy, “not satisfied
with doing everything in his power to injure the Bird Boys while
they were up there, this contemptible ingrate actually has the nerve
to write to some fellow who, he happened to know, was working on or
near this ranch, and sent him fifty dollars, which was to pay him
for doing something to make all our journey down here useless—he
even put it in his head to burn our aeroplane, and all that! Oh! he
is certainly the meanest fellow that ever came down the pike. I
almost wish we’d left him up there on the summit of Old Thunder-Top,
Frank, to get what he deserved.”

“Oh! I wouldn’t say that, Andy,” remarked his cousin, “it’s a rough
deal, I know, but when we could save those fellows it was our duty
to do it, no matter whether they were of any use in the world or
not. You never can tell how things are going to turn out.”

“You nearly always can when Percy Carberry has got to do with it,”
grumbled Andy.

“Now, suppose you enlighten me as to what all this talk is about,”
demanded the rancher. “Am I to understand that you once saved the
very life of this boy, who is right now doing his level best to play
you a mean trick?”

And so between them the boys had to relate the story, which has been
given in an earlier volume of this series, how they started in a
desperate race with Andy for the crown of the rocky height not many
miles away from Bloomsbury, away up in New York State; and a storm
of wind coming up, the aeroplane of Andy was wrecked, so that he
might have even lost his life, only that the Bird Boys managed to
hold on to him; and afterwards get the two boys, one at a time,
safely to the ground.

“Of all the cases of base ingratitude, that beats everything,”
declared the indignant rancher; and he forthwith set out to call
every puncher and employee on the place around him; after which he
told the story and while they listened in breathless wonder he went
on to say, angrily:

“If there chances to be any one within the sound of my voice who
received that letter, which I can hardly believe, I want to give him
fair warning right now, that if the slightest harm comes to either
of these brave boys while they are visiting at Double X Ranch, or if
any further attempt is made to injure their airship, the punchers of
this outfit have my hearty consent to carry out their own sweet
will; yes, and by thunder! under certain conditions, I’d be willing
to help pull on the rope!”

A salvo of cheers interrupted his words. Apparently they had found
an echo in every heart. But then Frank knew very well that if the
guilty one were present, it would be only good policy on his part to
shout just as loud as the rest, for fear lest suspicion be directed
in his quarter. A short time later he saw Buckskin beckoning to him.
Several of the other boys seemed to be clustered around him, as
though they had been comparing notes.

“You see, Frank,” began Buckskin, when the other joined the group,
“none of us boys feel quite right on ’count of the way Mr.
Witherspoon said that same. It kinder made us feel oneasy like. We
kept a-lookin’ at each other, just like we was a wonderin’ whether
it could be this one, or that other night wrangler. Why, all of us
feel meaner nor a mule skinner about the same. And we’ve got
together in a bunch to talk it over, so’s to larn who it was got a
letter from the East lately; and we struck pay dirt right away.”

“I’m glad of that,” said Frank, “though I hope it isn’t going to
make trouble for any fellow on the pay roll of Double X Ranch.”

Buckskin grinned.

“That’s where he played it fine,” he said. “Member the slim chap you
met yesterday when you landed, and who went by the name of Parsons?
Well, he gave notice as he’d been called back home, and had to quit
here last night; so off he goes late in the afternoon, bag and
baggage. None of us seemed to cotton to him much, though, as a
puncher he knew his business all right, and was fair spoken enough.
But there always seemed to be something slick about him that stood
us off. Now, several of us, on comparing notes, chances to remember
that the Parson he had a letter from East somewhere only a few days
back. Looky here, Frank, did you ever know anybody up in your town
by the name of Edmondson; because that was his real name, Collins
Edmondson it was, though we always called him Parson because he was
so solemn like.”

Frank looked at his cousin, who was also of the group.

“That is certainty the name of his uncle; over in Rahway,” declared
Andy, “yes, and I remember hearing that name Collins before. I guess
you’ve struck pay dirt this time, Buckskin. And I’m glad, for one,
that now we know no man on this ranch would be guilty of such a mean
game as setting our machine on fire.”

Buckskin was immensely pleased with the remarkable results of his
figuring, and detective work. He hastened over to tell Mr.
Witherspoon all about it; and soon afterward the rancher was seen to
wring his hand until he undoubtedly made the tears come in to the
stunted cow-puncher’s eyes.

Great was the indignation among the rest of the boys when they
learned what appeared to be the probable truth. Some of them were
making hurriedly for their horses, muttering under their breath; and
Mr. Witherspoon had to do some quick hustling in order to cut the
threatening mutiny off.

“Let the snake go, boys,” he said. “He didn’t carry out his
contemptible scheme, after all, thanks to your promptness and
bravery. I give you permission that if ever he shows his head around
these diggings again, which isn’t likely, you can treat him to a
nice warm coat, even if you have to borrow my tar kettle, and steal
one of my best down pillows. That goes, boys; so just turn back
now.”

Which the impulsive ones did, knowing that the rancher was a man of
his word, and evidently did not want the affair carried any further.
But doubtless they would manage to get word to the Parson, if so be
he had found employment anywhere in the country, that unless he felt
cold, and wanted a splendid down coat applied, regardless of cost,
he would be wise to keep away from Double X Ranch.

Andy begged that scrap of paper from his uncle. He declared he meant
to keep it carefully and compare the writing with some of Percy
Carberry’s later on; and if this convicted him, he would throw the
matter up to him right on the school campus in the presence of a
score of the higher scholars, and spread his proofs before them, so
that they could let the cur know what they thought of his mean
actions.

Andy could be a good hater when he had occasion for it; he always
declared that he had a strain of good old Scotch blood in him that
rose to the surface every now and then.

“Seems to me that lets Rustler Carlos out of it,” remarked Buckskin,
turning to some of the others with a wide grin, a little later, when
he came back feeling tenderly of his digits, that had a pinched
look, where they had lain in the tremendous grip of the rancher.

“Well,” said another puncher, an old fellow called “Shorty,” though
he was six feet in height, “he’d be guilty of anything just as bad,
if so be he happened around; and for one I’m a-goin’ to keep my eyes
skinned for signs of him. Some say he crossed the line again below
here fifty miles, and made a swoop through the Underwood section;
but that report has been denied, and none of us know what to
believe. So it stands to reason we ought to keep on guard, and
remember that Carlos, he don’t hold our crowd in high esteem.”

The boys felt in splendid spirits as night came on again.
Apparently, now, all clouds had rolled by, and they ought to have
clear sailing after this. There were dozens of other thrills they
were holding back in store for future exhibitions; for the Bird Boys
had already learned that secret of exhibitors to always keep the
best in reserve.

On special invitation from the boys they went over to the bunk house
that night and spent the time with them, listening to stories of
thrilling interest connected with the wild life of the desert
trails, and the valleys among the mountains in that strip of
Arizona, most singular of all the States in the Union in its many
sharp contrasts with regard to the rock strata and mineral
formations.

In return, Frank and Andy told in a modest way something of the many
exploits in which they had been concerned as air voyagers. Most of
all, the punchers wanted to hear about how they had gone down to
South America, and found Frank’s missing father a prisoner in a
cliff-enclosed valley, into which he had fallen at the time his
runaway balloon drifted far to the south from the Panama Peninsula,
when he was conducting a series of experiments, and explorations in
the interest of the great Northern college with which his name had
long been connected as a scientist.

Andy was not so backward as his cousin about telling of what
wonderful things they had seen, and how close to death they had been
on numerous occasions; he even took advantage of the opportunity to
describe how often Frank’s splendid nerve had been the only thing
that had kept them from instant destruction; and although the other
tried to make light of the facts, those hardy cow-punchers realized
that in this slender stripling, who was so modest, and yet so
self-possessed, they saw as true a hero as ever had his name
recorded in the annals of history.


CHAPTER X—LEARNING THE ROPES ON A RANCH

The days began to just glide away, and every one saw Frank and Andy
finding new sources of keen enjoyment.

They seldom lost a day for a while but that they went up for a short
time, at least, in the aeroplane that was the marvel and admiration
of the whole ranch. Those who worked on other cattle ranges were no
longer startled when they saw a strange object not unlike a
monstrous bird come spinning overhead, and disappearing in the
distance. Though they never failed to stop their work, no matter
what that might be, and gape upwards, as long as the aeroplane
remained in sight, still, they no longer fired at it, as happened at
first.

The boys had been warned by Uncle Jethro in the beginning that in
making their flights miles away from home they would be wise to keep
a pretty considerable distance aloft. There was never any telling
what cowboys would do; and they were so apt to empty their guns at
what they fancied must be some queer bird belonging to the supposed
to be extinct class. At any rate, the warning was heeded, and on
numerous occasions Frank and Andy believed that they profited from
it. Indeed, it seemed to be the usual thing, whenever they passed
over a cowboy in some strange section of the country, for him to
whip out his gun and empty it; after which he would sometimes dodge,
and try to conceal himself under a tree, or a clump of sage brush,
or it might be a sentinel cactus ten feet high, growing on the
border of the desert.

But by degrees the news was circulating around that this was one of
the new fangled aeroplanes, and the shooting began to grow less
frequent, though the young aviators did not take more chances than
they could help.

Frequently, now, there would be company at the ranch and bunk house.
In fact, these days Double X Ranch was fast becoming the Mecca for
the entire neighborhood. Whenever a party of punchers got a holiday,
instead of going off to town to indulge in a booze, they would start
over to see the “wonder of the air,” and hope that the young pilots
of the upper currents would perform for them.

This got to be such a nuisance that finally Frank had to announce
that they were only going up on certain days, when the exhibition
would be free. And at such times there was sure to be quite a crowd
present, all wild to see how this queer steed that flew through the
air at the rate of from forty to eighty miles an hour, or even a
full hundred on occasion, was managed.

Meanwhile the two boys had been singularly fortunate, in that they
did not meet with a single serious accident. Outside of the intense
heat they had little of a disagreeable nature to contend with in
this Arizona climate, where winds did not often visit the lowlands
in great force, and a dead calm usually prevailed. And as soon as
they were aloft, they found the atmosphere decidedly cool, even
cold, since they were quickly free from the earth’s radiation.

Of course, they had scoured the immediate country, and even ventured
a short way out over the desert, dropping low enough to observe the
strange formation of the billows of sand that reminded them of the
sea, note the peculiarities that marked the tall cactus plants; and
make up their minds that there could be a great many more pleasant
things happen to them than getting lost on this burning stretch,
with little or no water to quench their raging thirst.

After the first glimpse of that waste stretch, the boys always made
sure to carry a big bottle of water along with them when starting
out. And Uncle Jethro declared that it was a wise precaution, as
they could never tell when such a thing might prove to be a life
preserver, if not for themselves, then possibly in the case of
another who had unfortunately lost himself on the desert, and whose
plight they might discover from aloft.

But while they scoured the level in this fashion, the boys were
cautious about trying to fly over the rugged elevations to the
north, where the mines were being operated, to which the trains of
wagons containing supplies headed so frequently.

They found just as they expected, that the winds were apt to be
contrary in this region, and that it was more or less dangerous to
attempt to fly where at any minute a furious gust would suddenly
strike the aeroplane on the right quarter; which was hardly guarded
against, when a second rush of air would swoop down from still
another angle, threatening to overturn the sprawling flier with its
violence.

One visit in this direction was enough for them, and on this
occasion they saw the mouth of one of the mines, with a curious
group standing as usual gazing upward in open-mouthed wonder.

Those mountains presented a grim aspect that impressed both the boys
exceedingly, and they would never forget the sight. Andy had brought
a new kodak, which his father had purchased in order that they might
carry back something to show the folks at home. It was small in
size, but with an expensive lens; and capable of producing very fine
pictures; so that they hoped to have a display worth looking at by
the time these were all developed and prints made later on.

Nothing that was interesting escaped Andy, and he had developed
quite a liking for his new occupation, being constantly on the
lookout for scenes that he thought would make good prints.

But it must not be supposed that all this time the Bird Boys were so
much occupied with scouring the regions of the upper air for fifty
or a hundred miles in every direction, that they neglected to take
advantage of the opportunities presented to observe what life on a
great cattle ranch was like, for this was not so.

As time passed they limited their flights more and more, having
discovered other sources of amusement that held their interest;
because by this time flying no longer possessed the novelty for them
that it had in the beginning; and once they had exhausted the new
sights of the region, they were not so anxious to go up as they were
to mount ponies, and see something of life with the cow punchers.

By degrees they were learning a great many things that they had
never dreamed would ever fall to their lot. Being young, and quick
to pick up new “stunts,” both of them gave promise of soon making
average riders, at least, though they might not hope to equal some
of the punchers who were more reckless by nature, and handled their
mounts as though a cayuse were a machine, governed by their sole
whim.

Both Frank and Andy had their own ponies, and could dash like mad
over the level, plying both voice and quirt in the endeavor to come
in ahead; for cowboys spend much of their time in this sort of
racing.

They had adopted something of the dress of the others, and even wore
the customary “chaps” made of leather and handsomely decorated, and
to which they soon became accustomed in spite of the first awkward
feeling.

And so, daily they were seeing more and more of life on the range.
They visited the prairie dog village and shot rattlers that were
dozing outside the holes in which they lived at peace with the queer
little animals that amused Andy so, and which he stalked on the sly,
so as to take home some pictures of them.

They learned to throw a rope with a fair degree of skill, although
this takes long practice, if one wishes to become an expert. Neither
of them ever actually threw a cow, though they believed they would
be able to do so in time, if they kept this thing up long enough.

They did like to watch the regular punchers do the trick and get the
rope around the snubbing post like lightning every time. Both Frank
and Andy could hobble a broncho equal to the next one; and on one
occasion had spent a night on the range “wrangling” horses, which
meant that they kept company with the guard whose duty was to watch
the precious saddle band, and prevent them from straying, which
catastrophe would be apt to leave the party without mounts for their
morrow’s work; and this is really the worst thing that could happen
to cowboys, who seldom walk if they can help it.

Later on there was to be the regular fall round-up, and the boys
expected to be able to accompany the outfit, and see the youngsters
branded after the most approved fashion, with Andy capturing
numerous pictures that would show just how the entire operation were
carried out. One evening while the two boys were sitting with Mr.
Witherspoon on the big verandah which was kept screened to prevent
an onslaught from insect pests, the genial rancher surprised Frank
and Andy by casually remarking:

“I rather think, now, that we’ll have a decent day for our little
expedition tomorrow; and that the heat will be somewhat less
pronounced than usual.”

Andy looked at his cousin. Uncle Jethro had already sprung several
little surprises on them and seemed to enjoy it immensely so that
they immediately scented something new.

“What sort of trip is that, Uncle?” asked Andy, seeing that the
rancher was waiting to be questioned.

He pretended to be surprised, and raised his eyebrows as he
remarked:

“Oh! is it possible that I forgot to mention to you that I’ve
arranged to take you on a little shooting trip tomorrow, just to
break the monotony of your existence here, and perhaps give you a
chance to carry home a memento of life down in Arizona, that every
time you scrape your feet upon it, will call up a few of the things
that have happened here.”

“Please go on, and tell us more about it, Uncle; do we get a chance
to snap off a picture of a bunch of antelopes this time; that wolf
scene is going to turn out a jim-dandy, I reckon; and I’m anxious to
try another,” Andy went on to say.

“Well, you boys have sure locoed the whole community with that
wonder of an aeroplane, and perhaps, if the ranchers hope to get any
decent work out of their punchers, we’d better give them a little
rest along that line. But we’ve been troubled of late with losing
some of our best heifers; and the boys declare they’ve found tracks
of a grizzly that comes down out of the hills and gets his supper
every once in so often. So Buckskin is going along to show us where
he thinks the old fellow lives; and perhaps you can get a snapshot
of him before we start in to puncture his tough old hide with our
lead. How about that, boys; think you’d like to see how we rid the
country of a pest that plays havoc with our herds?”

Frank smiled and nodded as if pleased, but Andy as usual broke out
into a series of exclamations that told how delighted he would be at
the chance.

“Then it’s a go,” remarked Mr. Witherspoon, carelessly, as though
such things as bagging a ferocious grizzly bear were, after all of
every day occurrence in the life of a cattle raiser; and to be
looked up, as Andy, for instance might consider an ordinary flight
over the level plain, “I’ll see to it that you both have guns, and
we’ll start shortly after breakfast, so as to do most of our riding
before it gets too hot. Then, if we want, after we’ve bagged our
game we might hang round in the foothills and try to keep cool until
near sunset, when we’ll start back,” and he went on talking of other
things as though this were but a small matter.


CHAPTER XI—OUT FOR BEAR

“What do you think of this for a place to rout out a bear, eh,
boys?” and as Mr. Witherspoon asked this question he drew in his
sweating pony, and jumped to the ground.

The Bird Boys glanced around them. It was a wild prospect that
greeted their gaze. They had left the level plains and entered among
the rocky foothills that stretched out from the spur of the great
Rockies reaching far down into Arizona.

In all probability this State has a greater range of extremes in the
way of geographic features than any other in the Union. It possesses
arid deserts, fertile plains; and the whole upper part is a mass of
rugged mountain ranges, some of them as yet really never fully
explored, and in which many valuable minerals have been found that
yield fortunes to the capitalists whose money has made the mines
possible.

These contrasts are often sharply defined, the desert touching the
very border of a fertile tract, or running to the edge of the
uplifts where, among the rocks, some rippling little stream dashes
down, to mysteriously disappear under the burning sands as though
swallowed up.

After a rather long and exhausting gallop that covered many miles
the little hunting party of four had now arrived among the rocky
spurs, and entered what was to all appearances a pass, though
Buckskin called it a coulie, which might stand for a deep ravine, or
a gulch, differing from the dry bed of a former stream which is
known as a barranca.

“Do we leave the ponies here, Uncle?” asked Frank, who had come to
call Mr. Witherspoon thus familiarly, though of course the gentleman
was no relation, being connected on the side of Andy’s mother.

“Yes, staking them out where they can get a bite to eat from that
grass yonder, while we’re gone. We gave them all the water they
could drink a short time back; and that’ll have to do until we start
home. Going to snap us off again while we stand here beside our
mounts, are you, Andy?” and the rancher, who by this, had found
himself taken in a dozen different attitudes, and was getting used
to it, laughed good-naturedly as he struck a natural pose, with one
hand stroking the neck of his cayuse.

“Oh! it’s all over with,” replied Andy, coolly, “I saw my chance,
and just pressed the bulb when nobody was looking. And I bet you I
got a good one, too. That’s always the best way to do. When people
think they’re getting in a picture they make all sorts of queer
faces trying to look nice, and it spoils things. But the next one I
hope will be of Mr. Grizzly, and say, Uncle, we won’t have to tell
him to look pleasant, will we?”

“Oh! I’ve no doubt but that when he knows what you’re after he’ll
just rear up on his hind legs, and grin like a booby,” chuckled
Frank. “I guess these grizzlies don’t often get a chance to have
their pictures taken, and he’ll be obliged to you for the opening. I
hope you get a good one, that’s all, Andy.”

They threw themselves down to rest.

“No hurry about getting to work,” said Mr. Witherspoon, as he
lighted his pipe, from which he seemed capable of sucking
considerable enjoyment. “We might as well take it easy for a little,
while Buckskin is skirmishing around, to see if he can locate signs
of our four-footed friend up yonder among the rocks. An hour at this
time of day won’t matter much anyhow, because chances are the old
rascal is sleeping off the effects of the big dinner he made last
night off another of my heifers, so the foreman reported.” The boys
were not unwilling, because the ride had been hot and dusty; and
just there the air seemed stirring a little, which made the shade
very agreeable, after the open glare of the bright sun.

“But suppose the bear should happen along here after we’ve gone, and
take a notion to tackle one of your ponies, Uncle, wouldn’t that be
a pretty tough joke on us, if we had to go back double?” remarked
Andy, as he pottered with his camera, to make sure that it was in
the very best of condition for the work he expected to put it to
presently, if they were lucky enough to come across Bruin.

“Well, you are the greatest hand to think up trouble I ever saw, my
lad,” declared the free and easy-going rancher, “that never occurred
to me at all, and I don’t believe there’s one chance in ten of it
coming to pass, because all respectable bears should be asleep in
their dens at this hot time of day. I reckon then we’ll have to risk
it, unless one of you boys choose to sit here and stand guard.”

Of course this was said in the light of a joke, because he knew full
well neither of them could be induced to lose this glorious chance
to see a real grizzly of the Rockies at home.

Frank wanted to do a little of the shooting, if possible; and as for
Andy, he had become so thoroughly infatuated with the business of
picture taking that if he were compelled to choose between snapping
off the bear’s likeness, or putting a chunk of lead between his
ribs, Frank believed he would take the former, and lose all
opportunity for securing the trophy of the chase for a rug.

They were still lounging there some time later when a rattling of
small stones announced that somebody or some thing was approaching
from up the side of the coulie. Mr. Witherspoon just allowed his
hand to creep out to where his repeating Marlin lay. Not that he
suspected any danger might be hanging over their heads; but then one
wants to be on the foothills of the Rockies, where grizzlies have
their dens and sometimes cattle rustlers hide out waiting for a
chance to descend on the unprotected herds, which may be driven away
to a secret cache, where their marks can be altered, and then the
animals sold, or shipped on the railroad to a distant point.

But it turned out to be Buckskin, and with a wide grin decorating
his bronzed face, which Frank rightly interpreted to signify that he
had found the den he was so positive must be near by. “Hit her the
first thing, boys,” he chirped cheerfully, as he threw himself down
alongside the others, to cool off a little. “And believe me, things
look good for findin’ our chap at home. He dragged that heifer all
the way up here, consarn his old hide. I could see marks of blood on
his doorsill. Reckons as how we ketched him next door to in the act,
Mr. Witherspoon; got him with the goods on, we have. And here’s
hopin’ that’ll be the last young beef he’ll steal from the Double X
Ranch.”

After a short time the rancher got up, and threw his rifle in the
hollow of his arm. While lying there he had told the boys about all
that he could remember concerning the habits and peculiarities of
grizzlies, and also warned them not to be sparing of their lead when
once they commenced to throw it; because there is not another living
wild beast, hunters declare, that can stand up under and carry off
more bullets than one of these monsters.

The four of them commenced to climb the rocky slope. It was no easy
task, but they took their time about it, Mr. Witherspoon pointing
out how Buckskin had undoubtedly followed the occasional traces left
by the bear in his many pilgrimages along the same route—scratches
from his terribly long claws; or it might be occasional tiny stains
of blood from the carcass of the heifer he had dragged all the way
from the grass country, and along these ragged rocks, just as though
it was the easiest proposition that had ever been put up to him.

“Thar she is!” said Buckskin, suddenly, pointing with his rifle.

Following the direction of his outstretched weapon, the boys saw
what seemed to be a seam in the face of the rocky wall a little
distance away. As they advanced still further they realized that it
widened near the base, and afforded quite an opening, through which
even the bulky figure of a grizzly could pass with ease.

And upon looking, they found innumerable evidences of the fact that
some animal had long been in the habit of passing in and out of this
fissure.

“Why, here’s a bunch of brown hairs sticking to this sharp point of
rock, rubbed off when he scraped past!” declared the keen-eyed Frank
immediately after taking a look around.

“Good for you, my boy!” exclaimed the rancher, evidently well
pleased at this evidence of alertness on the part of his charge.
“Yes, that came from the hide of a Mountain Charlie, as they call
them out in California. You can see how coarse it is. Keep it as a
memento; but I certain sure hope you’ll get the real thing before we
gallop back for our supper late tonight.”

“How about him rushing out and surprising us, Uncle?” asked Andy.
“Perhaps the old fellow mightn’t like to have company dropping in on
him without an invite. And then, you see, I wouldn’t have any focus
at all, which would spoil my picture.”

“No need of worrying about that, my lad,” said the rancher. “He’s
lying in there as snug as you please, with his stomach full of that
juicy heifer; and it’ll be a hard proposition for us to coax him to
consent to an interview at all. Chances are, Buckskin’ll have to
smoke the old villain out. That sometimes happens. But we might as
well begin to make all our arrangements, looking to getting that
picture at the right focus; and also placing that little defile
between us and the bear when he does come out, mad as hops at being
treated to a smoke.”

He had apparently already figured it all out in his own mind and
made the necessary arrangements; for he led them across a deep
little defile that happened to lie between the bear’s den and a flat
stretch of rock, just fifty paces away.

From this spot a splendid view could be had of the yawning crevice
at the base of the cliff. And Andy was delighted to see that for the
next hour the sun would be favorable to his work of securing a good
exposure, given the subject.

“Got your focus all right, have you?” asked the rancher, when he
heard Andy give a grunt as of satisfaction.

“Yes,” Andy went on to say, smilingly, “everything stands out as
clear as a bell; and I think I ought to make a boss picture of this;
that is, if I don’t go and foozle, because of stage fright, when the
old rascal comes roaring out to ask what we want. You won’t shoot in
too big a hurry, I hope; give me time to snap off a couple, for fear
one might be spoiled. These sort of chances come only once in a life
time you know; and ought to be doubled up, to make sure.”

“Well, if we’re all ready here, perhaps you’d better get busy,
Buckskin, and see if you can bring him out with a few cowboy yells.
If that fails, then there’s some wood over yonder you can use; and I
notice that you grabbed up some stink-weed as you came along, which
will fetch him dead sure, when it gets to smouldering. Sometimes I
even think it would bring a dead man to life, it’s that powerful.
We’ll leave this little log across the gully, just as we used it to
cross on; when you jump over for keeps give the same a kick; and
that’ll put a gap between, the old man can’t cross in a hurry, if so
be he fails to drop under our fire.”

Accordingly Buckskin trailing his gun along after him, crossed on
the aforesaid log that served as a bridge over the gully, and went
about his business of trying to coax the occupant of the rocky
bear’s den to come out, with just as much indifference as though he
were obeying the call of the range to dinner, when the cook pounded
on a big frying pan with a basting spoon.

And standing there, the boys and Mr. Witherspoon awaited
developments with varied emotions.


CHAPTER XII—THE DEFENSE OF THE LOG BRIDGE

“Listen to Buckskin calling him all sorts of names, would you?”
exclaimed Andy, a few minutes later.

“If that bear only understood half he’s been called, he just
couldn’t stand it a minute longer,” declared Mr. Witherspoon,
chuckling, “but the poor old chap’s education has been neglected, so
he doesn’t know cowboy lingo. I reckon he never even opens one eye,
but keeps dozing right along. He hasn’t lost any cowboy, and so he
doesn’t want to be bothered. No good, is it, Buckskin?”

“Don’t look that way, sir,” replied the other, disconsolately,
“that’s the trouble with not having the gift of gab. Now, if I was
as good a hand at callin’ names, and rattling off the lingo as
Puffer Pete, chances are he’d just have to show a leg. Well, here’s
to open up a little smoke spell with the boss.”

Accordingly, he bent over, and seemed to be fixing the small tinder
he had carried across with him. Now and then he would turn his head
and call out something or other to the boys, as though explaining to
the boys what he was doing.

“Now she’s all ready for biz,” he finally declared, “watch my smoke,
fellers. Hi! here’s looking to you, old man; you’ve just got to wake
up, and let us take a look at your mug, you know. There she goes!
Whoop-la!”

The watchers saw a wisp of smoke creep up lazily. There did not seem
to be any wind to carry it away; and presently it met a back
draught, for it appeared to be sucked directly into the yawning
crevice at the base of the cliff.

Larger grew the volume of smoke, until quite a good-sized column was
oozing out of the brush Buckskin had piled up.

“Now for the scent weed!” he called out.

They saw him carefully place some of this on top of the pile, and
toward the back where its odor would be sure to be wafted into the
den, with the smoke from the burning wood.

“Wow! that’s fierce!” Buckskin whooped, grabbing hold of his nose
with the fingers of his free hand, for he was holding fast to his
gun all this time, not knowing when he might have to use it.

Now he was bending down as though listening to catch the first low
growl to indicate that Bruin had awakened, and was sniffing at the
smoke. Buckskin’s attitude told how he was holding himself in
readiness for a lively sprint, just as soon as the signs warned him
that the bear was rushing for the exit of the den in a terrible rage
at being interrupted in his nap. No sensible cowboy ever wants to
come to close grips with an enraged grizzly; he knows too much to
risk a terrible death in that way.

It was a period of most intense suspense to both the boys.

All at once they saw the crouching cowboy galvanized into life. He
leaped to his feet, and made a lively streak for the little log
crossing the gap. No need to ask what induced his haste, for actions
spoke louder than words in that case.

“Ready, Andy!” Mr. Witherspoon was heard to say, hoarsely.

This thing of attacking a full-grown grizzly in his native haunts
was no child’s play; and even so old a hunter as the owner of Double
X Ranch doubtless felt more than a little thrill as he watched to
see the head of the monster thrust out of the hole in the wall.

Andy had his kodak on a line with that opening and was crouching
there ready to get in some good work. Let Frank have the glory of
shooting the bear if he wanted; as for him, he found more solid
satisfaction nowadays in getting snapshots of game, than in trying
to lay them low.

“Oh!”

It was Andy who gave utterance to this cry. A great dun-colored bulk
had rushed directly across the heap of smoking fire-stuff,
scattering it to the right, and to the left, as he gave a fearful
roar that made the echoes ring.

And right then and there Andy pressed the bulb. He believed he had
caught the bear just in the act of throwing the fire
every-which-way, as Andy himself expressed it later on.

Immediately he started to turn the film so as to bring around a new
and unexposed section. His fingers were quivering with eagerness and
nervousness, so that he could hardly hold the camera.

“Steady, Andy; brace up, and take your time!” said Frank, who gave
his chum one quick glance to see how near he was to getting in a
second snapshot before he and Mr. Witherspoon started to firing.

That seemed to bring Andy to his senses, and the next moment he
managed to get his second shot at the bear.

By this time the animal had discovered the running Buckskin, and
immediately started in hot pursuit, as if recognizing the human
agency that had made his eyes smart so with that pungent smoke;
there was now no longer any trouble about arousing the bear’s fury;
and Frank realized just why Buckskin, wise fellow that he was, had
lost not a second about getting started, when he knew the bear was
coming.

He cast one glance over his shoulder as he reached the end of the
little log. Discovering the grizzly shuffling along swiftly in his
wake, snorting with anger, the cowboy immediately started across the
rude bridge. Once he slipped, and for a second or two it looked as
though he would drop down twenty feet or more into the gully; but by
a desperate effort Buckskin managed to climb up again, and mostly on
hands and knees completed the passage.

The bear was still coming on, apparently in no wise daunted by the
hot fire that was being poured into him by Frank and Mr.
Witherspoon. Every shot Frank took he fully expected to see the huge
beast go tumbling over; but in spite of all, the bear kept rushing
after Buckskin. Andy was still working his kodak and taking more
pictures.

Just as soon as the cowboy managed to crawl upon solid rock he
started to dislodge the log. It proved a little more difficult than
had been expected. Three times did Buckskin make the effort, and
only succeeded in moving the end a few inches on every occasion.

With the bear still coming on, as though capable of standing a
hurricane of lead, it began to look serious enough. Should he ever
succeed in crossing that log what might not happen to the hunters?
Frank felt a cold chill creep over him as he contemplated such a
possibility, and realized that the magazine in his Marlin heavy-bore
was getting low.

Well, Andy came to the rescue just in time. Dropping his kodak, he
sprang to the side of the panting Buckskin.

“Now, together!” he exclaimed, as he took hold of the end of the
log.

It slipped from its anchorage just as the grizzly reached the
opposite bank. Had they been three seconds later they must have
hurled the shaggy monster down with the queer log bridge.

Bruin stopped in his mad advance just in time. He sniffed at the
spot where the end of the log had rested, as though wondering how
the human enemy could have apparently flown across.

This gave the marksmen a better chance to place their bullets where
they were more apt to count. Frank took deliberate aim back of the
foreleg. At the same time he was conscious of a feeling of great
respect for this brave old fellow, whom nothing could apparently
daunt. But they had put their hand to the plow, and there could be
no turning back at this late hour. Besides, this beast was bound to
be a constant menace to ranchman’s herds from this time on, now that
he had learned the secret of securing an easy breakfast from the
weaker elements of the cattle drove; and it was of the greatest
importance that he be exterminated.

This time when Frank pulled the trigger of his Marlin he saw that he
had at last reached a vital organ. The big bear actually weakened
and fell over, though still struggling hard to keep on his feet and
show a grim front.

“That did for him, Frank; no use to waste any more ammunition!”
declared Mr. Witherspoon.

“Well, that was my last shot, anyway, so I couldn’t do anything more
until I’d recharged the magazine of my gun,” remarked Frank.

“And unless I’m mistaken, my weapon is in just the same fix,”
chuckled the other, “so you can understand what a lot of lead a
grizzly can digest before knuckling under.”

“There, the old critter has keeled over, and that’s his last kick,”
remarked Buckskin, who was still panting from his recent exertions.
“Say, Andy, d’ye want me to snap one off with you and Frank standing
by the game? Seems to me you had ought to be seen in some of these
here pictures. Reckon I know enough to aim, after you do the focus
act, and squeeze that rubber thing.”

“But we’ve got to cross over first, and our bully old bridge is down
at the bottom of the hole,” expostulated Andy.

“Oh! here’s another log that will answer just as well,” remarked the
ranger, “just looks like these trees once grew here to accommodate
anyone who wanted to use a log for a bridge. Everybody take hold,
and we’ll soon have it across.”

After some trying they managed to get the log on end near the edge
of the gap. It was no trouble, then, to let it fall directly across,
and as they had calculated rightly, there was another means of
spanning the gulf.

So, one after another, they walked across; in fact Andy and Buckskin
were so anxious to see what the grizzly looked like, that they
neglected to go back and pick up their guns, which they had
carelessly dropped at the time their help was needed in order to
move the log. Andy insisted that Uncle Jethro also line up alongside
the dead grizzly.

“You helped knock him out, and ought to be here more than me,” he
declared, when the rancher showed signs of holding back; and so
finally the three were grouped in a manner to allow of the game
being shown, while the hunters also appeared in the picture.

After Andy had arranged this to suit him, he gave the camera into
the charge of Buckskin, and then went over to take his place
alongside Frank and the ranchman.

“Now, look in the finder, and see that you’ve got the bear in the
middle of the picture,” Andy sang out. “How about it, Buckskin?”

“She’s all right, Andy; tell me when to give the punch,” came the
reply.

“Be sure and hold the camera steady as a rock when you’re going to
squeeze the bulb. Now, let her go, Gallagher!” and Andy assumed a
pose as he spoke.

Immediately after there was a whoop.

“Right there with the goods, and a regular bull’s-eye at that!”
shouted Buckskin. “I’m the boss boy with the picture machine, let me
tell you. You see if that ain’t a family group to do you proud! Want
any more took, Andy? Just you warble the word and Buckskin, he’ll
try to accommerdate you all that’s a-goin’; sure he will. How about
standin’ the bar up on his hind legs and take him that way! Wow!
holy smoke! look what’s comin’ in on us, would you? Another bar, and
bigger nor this un at that? Must be the mate o’ our game, and
lookin’ kinder mad at us. Whar’s my gun? What in creation did I do
with that six-shot pepper box? Run boys, he’s chargin’ us!”


CHAPTER XIII—NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN DAYS

Things started in happening about that time.

And conditions could hardly have been much worse; for while Frank
and Mr. Witherspoon had their rifles along, the magazines had been
exhausted in their recent shooting affair; while the only two
serviceable guns lay on the other side of the little gulf that was
spanned by the log.

“Get to the bridge as fast as you can!” called out the ranchman,
with a ring of authority in his voice.

It might have been noticed that Andy did not wait this time to
complain about the “focus,” and all that sort of thing; in fact, he
simply ran for the avenue of escape without once looking around him.
And both Frank and Mr. Witherspoon kept him pretty close company.

Buckskin had been close to the bridge himself at the time of his
making that astonishing discovery; and hence he was already passing
over. As a cowboy is not so sure-footed as a good many people
accustomed to walking, there were times when it began to look as
though he might lose his grip again, and be compelled to resort to
the original method of using his hands and knees.

“Don’t let my kodak drop, Buckskin!” shrieked Andy, really more
concerned about the safety of his little camera just then than his
own safety.

Perhaps his outcry did have some steadying effect upon the other,
for he managed to get to the opposite side without having to descend
to any humiliating experience, but it was a close shave.

And now the boys understood just why Buckskin had made such mad
haste. It was not because he meant to forsake them, or was so
tremendously alarmed regarding his own condition. He had suddenly
remembered that the guns that were charged had been left across on
the other side, and somebody must charge that bridge in order to lay
hands on them.

It was doubtless very fortunate for all concerned that the second
grizzly did not see fit to charge as ferociously as had its dead
mate; for in such a case the chances were they must have been mixed
up with those long, cruel claws before the lot of them could cross
over.

The newcomer stopped to sniff at the body of the other animal too,
and this delayed things for a few seconds; just enough for them to
get safely over, and for history to repeat itself in so far as
hurling the log into the hole was concerned.

Already Buckskin was getting busy with his repeater; and Andy, not
to be left in the lurch, also scrambled over to where his gun lay.

Once more the battle was resumed, with all the odds on the side of
those who, safe from the claws of the monster could at the same time
send their little leaden messengers of death across the gulf, and
into the body of the grizzly.

It hardly seemed fair, and yet what else can be done when dealing
with such a terrible beast? Three men, yes, half a dozen, would not
be too many to meet so ferocious a fighter at close quarters; and in
order to win out, it is necessary to take advantage of every
opening.

Rendered furious because of his wounds, and his inability to get at
the objects of his hatred, the bear finally rushed straight at them,
and of course toppled over the edge into the gap.

Meanwhile Mr. Witherspoon and Frank were getting fresh cartridges
into the magazines of their guns as fast as their trembling hands
could accomplish the feat. No one could tell how many shots might be
found necessary before the tenacious life of the monster was snuffed
out. “He’s dropped in!” shouted Andy, who had managed to discharge
his gun twice, and seemed to feel that he had had something more or
less to do with this last queer action on the part of the charging
bear.

“Look out for him climbing up the side!” cried the rancher, doing
his level best to get his weapon in serviceable condition.

“No danger, boss!” whooped Buckskin, who, down on hands and knees
beside the edge of the gully, was trying to figure out what the
condition of the bear might be, “he’s gone and cashed his checks in
this time, and we done it all by ourselves, sure we did, Andy. Say,
wasn’t he a whopper, now? And let’s get ready in case there happens
to be a whole menagerie of the varmints around these diggings.”

After their guns had been placed in serviceable condition they crept
to the edge of the little gulch and surveyed the huddled-up mass of
hair, each declaring it to be his positive belief that the bear must
be dead.

“Let’s some of us go down to him!” cried Frank.

“You bet we will,” echoed Andy; “I want that bearskin the worst
kind, because, unless I’m greatly off my guess, there are just three
holes in the same that my bullets made. How can we do it, Uncle
Jethro. Please put us wise.”

The rancher knew easily enough how it could be done. He even
volunteered to be the one who should drop down and secure the pelt
of the dead bear. It was finally arranged, however, that Buckskin
should do this business while Mr. Witherspoon performed the same
kind of operation in connection with the first victim.

“Just to think of bagging two bears on the same afternoon!”
exclaimed the proud Andy, as he danced around, trying the best he
knew how to get some sort of picture of his own prize, for the
cowboy loudly declared that it must have been a bullet from Andy’s
gun that did the business.

“It’s so dark and gloomy down there, you see,” he complained, as
Buckskin hunted for a way to clamber down. “If only I had thought to
fetch along one of my flash-light cartridges now, I could do it; or
have him take me standing with my foot on the prize, and my trusty
gun in my hands. But that’s all off.”

“What’s to hinder me taking you in that position with the other
bear?” ventured Frank; “we could slew it around a little, so that it
wouldn’t look the same as in the first picture; and having two skins
would prove that we got that many bears.” So Andy finally consented
to pose, and accordingly had his picture taken in the conventional
attitude of saying: “Look what a big hunter I am?”

It required considerable time to remove the two hides; but then
cowboys know how to go about it, and Mr. Witherspoon was also handy
with the hunting knife; so that in the end it was accomplished.

As the afternoon was still pretty warm, they decided to rest again.
At the request of Andy the puncher got several pieces of wood that
might be made to serve in lieu of torches; and with these they
explored the interior of the bear’s den. There was quite a heap of
bones inside the hole, and once more Andy deplored his want of
forethought in not providing himself with a number of those
convenient flash-light affairs, by means of which interiors may be
photographed so well.

“You don’t find me ever going anywhere with my old kodak, without
thinking about having a light along,” he complained. “Just when you
think you won’t need such a thing, the greatest chance you ever saw
happens along and makes you feel sick. Why, I don’t know what I
wouldn’t give to have a chance to take a picture of a real bear’s
den like that.” Buckskin thereupon consoled him with the promise to
ride over another day, amply provided with all the necessaries, if
it so be Mr. Witherspoon allowed to let him off, which the generous
ranchman readily agreed to do, because he would have consented to
almost anything if it would add to the pleasure of this nephew in
whom he was taking such unusual interest.

When the sun had dropped low enough so that its heat was not
depressing, they started back home, taking things easily by the way.

Their mounts had been rested, and besides, knew which way they were
now heading, and could be depended on to keep doggedly at work,
without any “sojering,” or trying to “play lame,” as some smart cow
ponies have been known to do when not in the humor for work.

The moon gave them light when night came on, and by ten o’clock they
reached the ranch buildings. Expecting them at about this time,
Charley Woo had a splendid supper all ready, to which the tired boys
did ample justice.

But the story of the hunt was reserved for the morrow; because Mr.
Witherspoon saw that the others were ready to drop after all those
hours in the saddle, added to the nervous excitement of that
thrilling bear hunt. It was now drawing close to the time when the
regular fall round-up was scheduled to come off; for Mr. Witherspoon
was one of those careful ranchmen who did not let things get too far
ahead of him; and he wanted to know what his herds had been doing
for him during the summer season, so that all youngsters might be
given the brand that would stamp them as his property.

Although both Frank and Andy had witnessed the operation on smaller
scales several times, so that the novelty had in a measure worn off,
still they laid out to accompany the band when they went forth in
full strength to cover the range, and be away several days and
nights at least.

Andy, of course, wanted to secure a few more striking pictures that
would illustrate the stories they wished to tell upon reaching home
again. The only thing he deplored was the fact that his stock of
films was running very low; he had been too lavish in the beginning,
not leaving enough for the more important subjects apt to crowd up
later.

But he had developed the roll containing the bear scenes, and was as
he admitted “tickled nearly to death” with the splendid results.
Why, it looked just as if that fierce old denizen of the cleft in
the rock was roaring out his anger and defiance as he threw the fire
sticks in every direction; and as for the other one, with Buckskin
crawling along the log bridge, and the grizzly galloping down toward
the end of the same, the cowboy declared that he could almost hear
himself saying bad words because of his dizzy head, that always
played him false in an emergency like this.

Why, a whole month had slipped away since their arrival at the
ranch; and in a few more weeks they would have to be thinking of
getting ready to travel back to Bloomsbury and school! Every time
they talked of it the boys felt blue; not that Frank and Andy did
not want to see the dear ones at home; but they were certainly
having the time of their lives down here in Arizona, and hated to
leave until they had utterly exhausted the mine of pleasures that
awaited their attention on every hand.

Uncle Jethro was kindness itself. He never wearied of thinking up
all sorts of things that he believed the two Bird boys would enjoy;
and when he could not accompany them in person, he sent Buckskin
instead; so that they came to have a decided fancy for the odd
little “sawed off” of a cowboy, as he himself described his lack of
stature.

And so it came about that one night the ranchman remarked that all
preparations had been made to start on the following day on the
round-up; the various herds would be ready for their inspection; and
before they came back doubtless every part of the wide-spreading
territory contained in Double X Ranch would have been raked over as
with a fine-tooth comb, looking for mavericks and stray bunches.


CHAPTER XIV—OFF FOR THE ROUND-UP

“Phew! it looks like another hot day, Frank!”

Andy had just dressed, and gone to the window to look out. The sun
was already up, and had that queer, dark red glow that betokens an
unusual display of heat. It would be a hard day for the long ride
across the treeless level stretching out between the ranch buildings
and the grassy valleys where the cattle generally bunched at this
time of year.

Frank had been strangely silent while dressing; and as he now joined
his cousin at the window, Andy noticed for the first time that he
was looking rather “peaked.”

“Here, what’s the matter with you, old fellow?” he asked, with his
customary breezy impulsiveness. “You don’t seem a bit tickled over
the idea of spending a whole day in the saddle, and that’s a fact.”

“Well,” replied the other, with a little smile, “the fact is, Andy,
I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you.”

“How’s that?” demanded his cousin, aggressively. “I don’t think I’d
better try going today, and that’s a fact,” Frank went on.

“Are you sick? Is that what ails you? Seemed to me you kicked around
a whole lot last night, now I come to think of it. Why, didn’t you
call me up, Frank? What’s the matter? I just bet the heat was too
much for you yesterday. We shouldn’t have done that long ride on so
nasty a day; felt like I was drawn through a straw myself, though
I’m all right now. But do you really mean that you won’t ride out
today with the boys?”

“The way I feel now, it would be silly for me to try it,” Frank
continued, with a little shake of his head. “I seem to be dizzy, and
to sit on the back of a lively pony for even an hour would upset me
like everything.”

“That’s a shame now, ain’t it, Frank?”

“Oh! I don’t mind it so very much. You’ll only be gone a couple or
three days at the most; and I’ll have Mrs. Ogden, Charley Woo, and
little Becky to keep me company. And then, if I’m feeling myself by
tomorrow, why I might take a notion to look you boys up by the air
route. Don’t worry about me, Andy.”

“I don’t mean to, because I expect to stay with you and see that you
get the right kind of care,” said Andy, with his positive face in
evidence.

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” retorted Frank. “I’ll be in good
hands, and the chances are will be all right by noon. So you’re just
going along with Uncle and the rest.”

“I’d like to see anybody make me when I put my foot down,” Andy went
on to say. “The fact of the matter is, Frank, between you and me and
the lamp-post, when I found out what sort of a scorcher we were in
for today, I began to lose some of my own enthusiasm. Sure I’d have
gone along if you were all right, and taken my medicine as well as I
could; but this alkali dust don’t please me a whit; and on a red hot
day it’s a lot of a nuisance to have to keep on riding in a saddle
on such a slow thing as a cayuse.”

“Oh! you’re spoiled by this mile-a-minute gait of your air steed,
that’s plain,” chuckled Frank, “but your uncle will be disappointed
if you don’t go along, Andy.”

“He’ll have to be, then,” returned the other steadily, as though his
mind was made up, and nothing could change it. “I don’t pretend to
be able to keep up with Buckskin, Shorty and all that lot of hard
riders. They can wear me to a frazzle in the long run. My place,
where I shine, is with you in a biplane. There you don’t have to
work your way, but just sit and enjoy the grandest view any fellow
ever had spread out before him, while’s he spinning along at much
more than a mile-a-minute speed. The air route for mine, every
time.”

“Well, I see there’s no use trying to force you to go; but I’m sorry
that this has happened, Andy.”

“Shucks! don’t you bother your head about me,” his cousin said, with
a chuckle. “Fact is, I’m rather tickled at finding an excuse for
backing down without its looking that I’m showing the white feather.
That thought of three days in the saddle, with the heat and dust
gave me a bad feeling. And Frank, perhaps we might look the boys and
their chuck wagon up tomorrow in our biplane. That’s a heap sight
more to my fancy, let me tell you, now.”

“All right, Andy. But there’s your uncle outside, looking after
things. We’d better see him, and let him know, before he gets ponies
ready for us.”

Both boys went outside, and when Mr. Witherspoon heard about Frank’s
sickness he expressed the greatest concern. After hearing the
symptoms he agreed with Andy that it must have been the extreme heat
of the preceding day that had knocked his cousin out.

“Nothing serious at all,” announced the ranchman, “I’ve felt the
same way myself more than a few times, after unusual heat, and hard
riding. No use trying to keep in the saddle when you’ve got that
dizzy spell; just lie down, and Mrs. Ogden ’ll give you a dose of
the same medicine that always brings me around. Chances are you’ll
be feeling all right by noon, or before night, anyway.”

“We feel sorry not to be able to go along with you on the round-up,
Uncle,” remarked Andy.

“I’d put off starting until tomorrow, boys, only all preparations
have been made and it would interfere with our work more or less,”
the ranchman went on to say with a tinge of regret in his voice, as
though he were tempted to do this at any cost.

“We wouldn’t think of letting you do such a thing, sir!” exclaimed
Frank.

“And besides,” added his cousin, “if Frank is all right tomorrow,
you may see us sailing along to hunt you up, and with a map of the
whole ranch spread out before us.”

“You mean you’ll take a spin in your biplane, is that it, boys?” Mr.
Witherspoon went on, “Good! Nothing would please us better. I can
imagine the antics of the cattle when they see a great bird settling
down over them.”

“Oh! we’ll be careful, and try and not start a stampede, Uncle; if
we do come, after we’ve located where you’re working at the time,
we’ll drop down some distance away, and walk over; or you can send
mounts for us. But I don’t care to go without Frank, you see. And to
tell the honest truth, I’m a bit leery about riding through such a
scorching hot day as this promises to be.”

“Perhaps you’re wise, my boy,” said the ranchman, reflectively,
“it’s hard enough on us old shellbacks, used to breathing this
alkali dust from one end of the year to the other, and must be rough
on tenderfeet. Make yourselves at home; the best is none too good
for you. Charley Woo thinks you are a couple of little tin gods on
wheels, and he’ll do anything in the wide world for the wizards who
can mount up to the clouds, and play tag there with the winds.”

Frank, though looking badly, would not go in and lie down while the
outfit was getting in readiness to start. He wanted to see all that
went on, for the chance might never come to him again.

And Andy was busy snapping off several pictures of the scene, as the
bunch of active cow punchers galloped around on their ponies, making
the animals do all sorts of wonderful feats as they curvetted and
pranced, and snorted with the excitement.

“I’ve just got another film of a dozen exposures,” he complained to
Frank, after he had taken several views of the chuck wagon, and the
string of led ponies that had to be taken along for service when the
hard riding boys wore out their first mounts, “and with that I want
to get my pictures of the round-up; also one of the dinner hour,
when the entire crowd gathers around the chuck wagon.”

“But how is it that Charley Woo doesn’t go along this time; I
thought he always did the cooking for the crowd when they went off
like this?” Frank remarked.

“I asked Uncle about that, and he said that the boys had been
complaining somewhat lately about the Chinaman’s way of cooking. He
thought they were just spoiled by having things too good; and to
show them the difference he has arranged to let Shorty do the
cooking on this trip. He used to, long ago, before Charley came
along, and got the job.”

“Oh! that’s it; and the boys are in for a lesson, I can see. When
they get a dose of the old style of slinging hash together they’ll
never have another word to say about Charley. That’s the way things
go, sometimes; you never miss the water until the well runs dry.”

“Looks like they might be going to start right away, Frank. Here
come the boys on the jump, to say goodbye, and hope you’ll be
feeling better soon.”

“I hope they won’t think I’m faking this headache, just to get out
of riding on the round-up with them?” remarked Frank, uneasily.

“They know you better than that,” returned his cousin. “Any fellow
who has got the nerve to ride in an aeroplane would be equal to
anything, so Buckskin and every one else swears. Try as we can, you
know there isn’t one of them dares go up. What Buckskin told them
about his sensations has given the whole bunch cold feet so far as
wanting to try a ride among the clouds. The earth, alkali dust and
all, is good enough for them, they say. Hello! boys, hope you have a
grand good time. And if Frank’s feeling O. K., look for us along
some time tomorrow. I want to get some cracker-jack pictures of how
you round up the cattle, and brand the same, those that need the
Double X mark.”

Every puncher insisted on gripping the hand of each of the Bird
boys, while his restless pony danced, and snorted, and acted as
though just wild to start off like a comet.

Then came Uncle Jethro and the foreman, Waldo Kline, to also shake
hands, and say how sorry they felt at not having the visitors at the
ranch along; but the boys again repeated their intention of looking
in on the workers later on.

With a tremendous racket and waving of hats, the string started off,
and Andy could not resist aiming his kodak after them, for the scene
was an inspiring one, which he and Frank would never forget.

Further and further away drew the caravan, the mules hitched to the
chuck wagon being kept on the trot by old Shorty, who had once again
come into his own as cook for the outfit; yet wore a troubled look
on his face, as though he felt uneasy concerning the outcome. For
cow punchers are no respecters of persons when they feel that they
have good cause for complaint concerning the quality of the grub
with which they are being served; and Shorty had before then known
of cooks being actually tarred and feathered just because they
failed to come up to the expectations of the clamorous bunch of
reckless cow men. When they had vanished from sight far away over
the plain, in a cloud of dust, Frank went in to lie down again;
while Andy started to amuse himself developing some of the films he
had just exposed.

And as the morning advanced it proved even a hotter day than the
preceding one had been, so that Frank felt he had acted wisely in
declining to take chances on so hard a gallop, with his head in such
a whirl.

It was just before noon that Andy came into the room in somewhat of
a state of excitement.


CHAPTER XV—THE ONE WHO CAME BACK

“Frank, do you remember what I did with the glasses?” asked Andy,
after he had been looking all around for a minute or two, with a
puzzled expression on his face.

Now, Andy was not quite so methodical as his cousin. He had on
occasion been known to seem a bit careless, to confess the actual
truth. And Frank, knowing how such a habit is apt to grow on anyone
unless severely checked, sometimes played a little trick on his chum
with the sole idea of impressing things upon his mind, and
correcting this fault.

He raised his head at Andy’s question.

“Stop and think, where did you have them last?” he remarked,
quietly.

“Oh! say, didn’t I fetch them in last night when we were all looking
at the man in the moon, and those stars that Uncle Jethro said were
the Belt of Orion the Hunter? I’m dead sure I did, Frank; but they
don’t seem to be around here. Do you know where they are? Has
anybody borrowed our glasses, Frank? I want them right now, and I
want them bad.”

“Look on the table in the living room, and I think you’ll find
them,” returned Frank, sitting up. “I saw you drop them there last
night, and just wanted to see if you’d remember to fetch them to our
room. But what’s up, Andy?”

“You seem to be, just now, old fellow; which I take it is a good
sign you’re feeling a whole lot better. Glad to know it, and that’s
straight. But about the glasses—why, there’s a lone horseman coming
along at a slow lope, as if he didn’t care to hurry one little bit;
and I’m wondering who it can be.”

“Perhaps some neighboring rancher coming to ask a lot more fool
questions about the cost of biplanes, and whether any puncher who
has broken bronchos all his life could learn to herd cattle with one
of these up-to-date fliers;” and Frank, getting up from the cot,
started to stretch, as though he might indeed be feeling more like
himself again, the dizzy feeling gone.

Andy chuckled at what his cousin said; then, being really curious to
learn the identity of the approaching horseman, he hurried out of
the room.

Frank followed leisurely, and on getting outside found the other
with his eyes glued to the small end of the fine glasses, which had
come in so useful dozens of times when the Bird boys were whirring
through the upper currents, and looking for a place below to land.

“Well, have you made him out?” asked Frank, coming up behind the
other.

Andy took the glasses down as he replied:

“That’s as easy as falling off a log, Frank; but I’m wondering what
under the sun brings Alkali Joe back home again.”

“Alkali Joe, you say, Andy; why, he went with the bunch this
morning!”

“That’s just what he did,” the other went on to say, a little
excitedly, “but all the same, that’s Joe, as big as life. And if you
notice, Frank, you’ll think it queer that he doesn’t act like they
all do when in the saddle, making his pony go like the wind, and
whirling his hat around his head.”

“That’s so, Andy, he doesn’t,” remarked Frank, when he had clapped
the glasses to his eyes; “fact is, Joe acts like he might be going
to a funeral. I never saw a cow puncher come jogging along like
that, taking things as easy as he can.”

“Gee! I hope he isn’t bringing us any bad news!” exclaimed Andy.

“Well, now,” Frank remarked, “I never thought of that; but what sort
of bad news could Uncle Jethro be sending back; and even that
wouldn’t be apt to keep down the bubbling spirits of an average
cowboy.”

“Then what do you think can be the matter?” went on the other.

“I rather believe that Joe has had some sort of attack, just like I
did; and your uncle has sent him home to be dosed and to lie down,
knowing that he’d never be able to keep his seat in the saddle
during the wild dash of the round-up.”

“Frank, I wonder if that could be so?” Andy observed, seriously.
“P’raps it’s going to be an epidemic and the whole of us may be down
with the same, yet. Couldn’t have been locoed by any of that weed
they tell us about, could we? If the cows they use for milkers
gobbled any of the same, would it affect us, do you think?”

That idea tickled Frank, for he laughed.

“I don’t think we stand in any danger that way, Andy,” he went on to
remark, “but anyhow, you’ll know about Joe pretty soon, for he’s
coming along on a steady lope, and will be here inside of ten
minutes, at most.”

They stood and watched the cow puncher swinging along at that easy
gait; it seemed as though the man in the sheepskin chaps might be
part and parcel with his pony they moved with such a steady rhythm.
And before the time limit which Frank had set expired he had come to
a full stop before them.

But Frank had already made a discovery. This was to the effect that
one of Joe’s lower limbs seemed to be bound up with a rough bandage.

“What happened, Joe?” he asked, stepping forward to the side of the
other, who seemed to have what might be called a sheepish grin on
his sunburned face.

“I made a fool play, and got pitched over the head of my pony, when
he stepped into a gopher hole. Broke a leg, that’s all; reckons as
how I orter broke my fool neck to even her up. Have to get you boys
to help me off the hoss. Never knew that to happen before to a
feller my size. Mr. Witherspoon, he did her up in fust class shape,
and sez he, ‘You get back to the ranch the best way you can, and the
boys’ll do what’s needed, with the help of Mrs. Ogden.’ So if you’ll
jest give me a hand, mebbe I might hop inside the bunk house.”

“No you don’t,” said impulsive Andy, instantly, “you’ll go right in
the main house. Guess I know what Uncle Jethro’d do if he was here.
That bunk house may be all right for a well puncher, but with its
noisy crowd it’s no place for a man with a broken leg. Now, rest
your whole weight on us, Joe; we can stand it, all right. That’s the
way; hope it didn’t hurt much when you dropped out of the saddle.
Now, use us like you would a pair of crutches, and we’ll get there,
step by step.”

The housekeeper and little Becky came running out just then, alarmed
by seeing Alkali Joe, who was something of a favorite on the ranch,
in dire straits. Even Charley Woo was solicitous about the comfort
of the injured man, and hurried in with Mrs. Ogden to get a bed
ready in the spare room.

After the boys had gotten the cow puncher in bed, Frank took a look
at the way Mr. Witherspoon had bound up the broken leg.

“Why, your uncle must be a regular surgeon, Andy!” he declared,
“that’s as neat a job as I ever saw; and done while on the gallop,
too, you might say. I take off my hat to Uncle Jethro, let me tell
you right now.”

“We all do that, Frank,” said Joe, emphatically. “He’s the most
wonderful man in the whole country. There ain’t a puncher that ever
worked for him as wouldn’t go through fire and flood for Mr.
Witherspoon; well, I take that back, ’cause I reckon they has been
one or two as he had to fire, and for mighty good reasons, that’d
like to see him lose all his stock through a norther, or else that
Mexican cattle rustler.”

Inside half an hour the injured man had been made as comfortable as
possible; he himself said it was the greatest snap that had ever
befallen him, and that he hadn’t lain between soft white sheets
since he was a kid at home in the East. Frank thought that old
memories were being stirred in Joe’s mind; perhaps, after all, his
accident might work for his good, in that it would cause him to
recollect that there was an old mother or father somewhere east of
the Mississippi, whom he had almost forgotten, and who would be wild
with joy if only a letter came from the boy who had gone away from
home so many years ago, and in the excitement of his life in the
Southwest shut out all thoughts of the past from his heart.

Frank and Andy after having lunch sat outside where the shadows were
thickest at this sweltering time of day. There could always be found
a gentle puff of air at this favorite place; and lounging in a
hammock, while Andy worked at some of his prints, Frank watched a
lone white cloud that was drifting across the azure sky above.

Perhaps his thoughts too were turning back to other scenes as he lay
there. It might be that the sight of that single fleecy fog-like
vapor caused him to remember events that were connected with other
scenes in the lively experiences which had come to the Bird boys
while harnessing their chariot to the clouds.

“What you thinking about, Frank?” Andy asked, suddenly, after he had
been watching the face of his cousin for a full minute without the
other knowing it.

“Why, I was trying to picture rough Alkali Joe in the past,” replied
Frank. “What he said about not having slept between sheets since he
was a kid, made me think. Did you see that picture that fell out of
his pocket when we took off his Mexican jacket, the one he won at
the raffle they told us about?”

“Sure I did; but that wasn’t Joe’s best girl, Frank; when I picked
it up and put it back I saw that it was the face of an elderly
woman.”

“All the same it ought to be Joe’s best girl; because I reckon it’s
his mother. And I remember him saying one day that he didn’t know
whether there was anybody alive in his family or not, because he
hadn’t written a letter home for six whole years. And Andy, I was
just thinking, that while he’s on his back there, it might be a good
time to get talking to Joe, and see if he wouldn’t think to write.
If his mother’s alive still, I reckon she’d be happy to hear from
him again.”

“Frank, that’s just like you for all the world; always wanting to do
somebody a good turn. Now, that wouldn’t have struck me at all; but
since you’ve mentioned it, I’m going to watch my chance to get
talking about home and all such things, and see if I can’t wake Joe
up. He’s a good-hearted fellow, if he is tough. But by the way
you’re getting back to your old self, I think the chances look good
for our making that start tomorrow in the biplane.”

“It does look that way, if nothing happens between now and then to
break up our plans,” replied the other. “Doctor Witherspoon has
certainly knocked that dizziness out of my system, and I’m as well
as ever now. Fact is, there’s a little job connected with the motor
that ought to be attended to, to put it in first-class condition,
and when the sun gets lower down, so that a fellow can breathe
better, why I think I’ll get busy.”

“And me to help you,” chirped Andy, promptly, “I’m about done with
this printing business anyway. Say, what d’ye think of this lot of
pictures? Don’t it give you a cold chill just to look at that old
grizzly scattering things around at the mouth of his den? And every
time I glimpse Buckskin hanging on to that log bridge with his
fingers and teeth, trying to climb back again after losing his
balance, it makes me shake all over, I want to laugh so hard. A
pretty good lot all told, Frank.”

“That’s what they are; Andy, and the folks at home will have a fine
time looking them over. You’ll be able to illustrate nearly every
big yarn you have to tell; and the round-up tomorrow ought to just
fill out the bill. But I can make use of you, if you care to come
over with me to the hangar. An air has started up, you notice, and
it doesn’t feel quite so hot,” and accompanied by his cousin, after
Andy had put his prints and trays away in the house, Frank sauntered
leisurely over to where stood the new shed, which had been built to
shelter the precious aeroplane wonder.


CHAPTER XVI—AN ALARMING DISCOVERY

Long before evening came on Frank had completed his work, and
pronounced the aeroplane in as near perfect condition as it could be
placed.

Andy had some more prints to worry over after supper, but it was a
labor of love with him, and he never wearied of it. There was such a
fascination about seeing the many well remembered scenes flash up
before him, after he had dropped the paper in the tray holding his
developing solution, and then carefully manipulating them so as to
bring out the best possible results, that Frank declared he would
have to drag him to bed later on.

They spent a very pleasant evening. Mrs. Ogden played the piano, and
Frank was able to do some little execution with the violin which Mr.
Witherspoon himself could manipulate so cleverly. Andy thumped on a
banjo, and even sang a few college songs, such as the boys of
Bloomsbury High delighted to learn in anticipation of the time when
they would go away to Yale, Harvard, Cornell, or possibly Princeton,
according to the mood that influenced them in making a choice. When
Charley Woo was discovered by little Becky crouching in the doorway
and evidently enjoying the music, he was induced to bring a native
Chinese instrument, fashioned after the manner of a mandolin from
which he managed to extract some weird kind of music almost barbaric
in its way, which added more or less to the enjoyment of the
evening, and made the player superlatively happy.

As the door of the room where Alkali Joe lay upon his bed was kept
open, so that he could enjoy the music, they heard him clapping his
hands for some time after each air.

Purposely Frank influenced Mrs. Ogden to sing “Home, Sweet Home,”
with himself and Andy coming in on the chorus, as well as the sweet,
bird-like tones of little Becky’s voice. She gave promise of quite
some talent in the line of music, and would carol half the day in
her childish way.

And Frank listening heard no applause after they were through;
instead, there was a dense silence beyond that open door, as though
something about the song had touched the hardened heart of the cow
puncher, and started him to thinking of things that had long
banished from his mind.

Even Andy noticed the suggestive silence, and catching the eye of
his cousin, nodded his head in the direction of the room where the
injured man lay, while he smiled, as much as to say:

“That was a center-shot, Frank; you hit the bull’s-eye that time,
old fellow, and chances are that now he’s got to thinking, Joe isn’t
going to be able to forget again in a hurry. You mark my words,
there’ll be a call for paper and pen inside of a day or two.”

And sure enough, though there may be no further opportunity to
mention the matter again, on account of other stirring scenes that
await our attention, it can be stated right here and now that Alkali
Joe did write a letter home before another forty-eight hours had
expired. So that the little accident of his being pitched over the
head of his pony when the animal stepped into a gopher hole, while
going at a round pace, was the means of bringing joy to the heart of
a grieving old mother in a far-away Eastern State.

Strange that not one of them noticed a face that was pressed close
to the corner of the open sash of the window in the back of the
room, from time to time, a dark scowling face that was marked by
glittering eyes, which seemed to be fastened on the little sprite of
a girl whenever she danced across the floor.

No one dreamed of anything like danger, when the atmosphere seemed
so calm and delightful. But then, that is the way things often go;
and many times the gathering storm steals up unobserved, until there
is a savage burst of thunder, accompanied by a vivid flash of
lightning, startling every one by its sudden coming.

Finally Mrs. Ogden declared that the hour had grown late for little
Becky to be up; and as was her custom, the winsome child went to
each of the boys to kiss him goodnight.

After that Frank picked up a book, and interested himself in the
story; while Andy, unable to tear himself away from his beloved
camera work, started to print again, having another batch of proofs
from which he had not as yet taken pictures.

The face at the window did not appear again after the housekeeper
and little Becky left the living-room. It might be assumed from this
that the spy without had lost all interest in the occupants when the
child vanished from view.

Frank read on until he found his eyes growing heavy. Then with a
yawn he tossed the book on the table. “Ten o’clock, Andy,” he
remarked, as a gentle reminder.

“Oh! that isn’t late,” said the other, “you know, we go to bed at
all hours at our house at home. A doctor never knows when he can get
a night’s sleep; and that breaks up things in his family more or
less. But I’m on the home stretch with this batch of prints, Frank.
Give me a little more time, won’t you? When I get started with my
trays and chemicals I like to clean up a lot of stuff.”

“Ten minutes more,” remarked Frank, grimly.

“Oh! well p’raps I can get through then; but even if I don’t you
might sneak off, and leave me to put out the glim when I am
through,” the other went on to say.

“Not if I know myself and I think I do, likewise you,” chuckled
Frank. “Why, you never would come to bed till long after midnight.
It’d be just one more batch, and then another after that, to the
wind-up. I’ll wait for you, my boy. Ten minutes, and then we’ll
close up shop.”

Andy knew that his cousin would stick to his word; he had been up
against it more than a few times in the past, and so he hurried
matters as much as he could. When the ten minutes had expired he
begged for five more, as grace, saying that he would just spoil the
few prints that had to be finished if they were left in the washing
water until morning; and so Frank gave in that far.

When they were undressing, later on, Frank thrust his head out of
the window to look at the glory of the moonlight night, and wonder
what the boys were doing in the round-up camp, just then.

The night was now cool and pleasant, as they frequently are after a
hot day in Arizona, especially about the Fall season. Stars shone
softly above, and there the moon hung like a big lantern, lighting
up the earth below.

How many memories did it not recall to the Bird boys, every time
they looked up and saw that great yellow shield! Had they not looked
upon it under various periods of stress and peril in their own
lives; sometimes near the home town, and again it might be far away
in the mysterious country bordering the Magdalena river, down in
Colombia, where the tropical sun shone far hotter than it did here
in the Arizona regions.

Often the Bird boys were influenced to talk of these past
experiences, when the mood came upon them; but Andy usually became
more or less excited whenever he was reminded of these stirring
events; and tonight Frank wisely refrained from starting him going
by mentioning the memories that were awakened by that lovely round
orb.

The last thing he remembered Andy saying was that it promised to be
a good day for the little air voyage they contemplated taking on the
morrow; which caused Frank to chuckle, because in this arid country,
where it seldom rained, all days were good ones, save as the heat or
blowing alkali dust might bring discomfort in their train.

When Frank awoke again it was broad day. He no longer was troubled
with that dizzy feeling; and yet it seemed to him as though a weight
might be pressing down upon him. The air was unusually bracing on
this particular morning, too, so that Frank did not know what to
make of it.

Not being a boy given to such a things as the “blues,” he shook
himself with the intention of getting rid of this feeling and
sternly put it out of his mind.

They went outdoors to take a look around, while waiting for Charley
Woo to call them to breakfast. He was already up and doing, as the
smoke from the kitchen chimney told. Indeed, there was an
unmistakable smell of cooking in the air that caused Andy to sniff
eagerly, and remark:

“Tell me, don’t that coffee smell fine; and as sure as you live,
Charley Woo is going to give us a mess of his famous flapjacks, too.
When we go away from here, Frank, we’ll have to send that Chink
something nice, to pay him for all he’s done to make us happy while
on the ranch. I really think Charlie’d lie awake all night hatching
up some new mess to tickle us with. Uncle struck a treasure when
that moon-eyed Celestial came wandering along here looking for a
berth, when the tough punchers of the M-bar-M outfit chased him off
because he let a hair from his queue get in the soup.”

Presently the call came for breakfast, and the boys hurried in to
attack the eggs and bacon and pancakes that were spread before them;
together with butter, rolls, coffee, and genuine maple syrup, of
which latter article the ranchman was very fond.

They wondered a little that Mrs. Ogden was not with them, but all
the same proceeded to do full justice to Charley Woo’s cooking. The
grinning Chinaman waited on them with his customary agility, almost
anticipating their wants, and insisting on piling more flapjacks on
their plates as fast as they were emptied, until both boys had to
hold their hands over them and vow that they could not devour
another one for love or money.

“Suppose you go and knock on Mrs. Ogden’s door at the other end of
the house, and tell her the cakes will get cold is she doesn’t come
quick,” suggested Andy.

“Yes, I never knew her to be sleeping in so, since we’ve been here,”
added Frank, and yet as Charley Woo, who could make himself handy
about the house in the capacity of a man of all work as well as
chef, hurried off to carry out the suggestion, neither of the boys
had the slightest suspicion that anything out of the way was the
matter.

The first thing they knew about trouble was when they heard the
Chinaman shouting in a wild fashion; and jumping up, regardless of
the heavy meal they had just devoured, they ran through the passage
to where the sound came from, their hearts almost standing still
with sudden apprehension, they knew not what of.

The outer door of the two rooms which were occupied by the
housekeeper and little blue-eyed Becky was open, and as Frank and
Andy burst through impetuously, they saw Charley Woo, trying to
unwind some pieces of rope which had evidently been used to bind
Mrs. Ogden to the bed posts. A towel with which she had possibly
been gagged lay on the floor. The poor woman was in her wrapper, and
so completely exhausted that she could hardly make a sound. But
evidently she wanted to tell them something important, for her lips
kept on moving; and Frank, bending down managed to catch the sense
of the whispered sounds.

No wonder his face was white as he turned his head, and looked at
his cousin.

“She says little Becky has been kidnapped!” was what he flung at
Andy.


CHAPTER XVII—THE CARRYING OFF OF LITTLE BECKY

Andy fell back and stared at his cousin helplessly when he heard
this startling announcement.

Meanwhile Frank had started in to assist Charley Woo cut the rope
which had been so cruelly used to make the housekeeper a prisoner.
Then he helped her to regain her feet, for she had sank down utterly
exhausted as soon as released.

But Mrs. Ogden was a sensible woman, and she was trying the best she
knew how to recover her speech; so that presently Frank thought it
time to ask her something about what had happened.

“He must have crept in through the open window!” she gasped. “I
thought the night wind had started blowing the blind, and got up to
fix it, when he caught hold of me, and that was the last I knew
until I came to my senses and found myself bound, and with a towel
fastened across my face so that I could not cry out, when he was
just passing out of the window. In the moonlight I could see that he
held a bundle in his arms, and I knew what it must be. Oh! what will
Mr. Witherspoon say when he learns how I have let that sweet child
be taken away from under my eyes.”

That seemed to be the main cause for her distress; she thought
nothing at all about her own sufferings, but was only concerned
about what her employer would think because she had not been able to
prevent the kidnapping of the child.

Though Andy had not yet recovered his voice, and was groping in the
dark with regard to what it all meant, Frank, clearer visioned, had
already made a pretty straight guess. He immediately started to ask
a few questions, and each one of them went straight to the point.

“Did you see the man clearly, Mrs. Ogden?” he demanded; and somehow
the housekeeper seemed to feel something of the same confidence in
Frank that his manner nearly always produced in those who were in
distress.

“No, because the moon was on the other side of the house,” she
replied; “and besides, he seemed to have some sort of bandanna
handkerchief fastened around the lower part of his face as a
disguise.”

“And did he say anything that you heard, anything that would give
you a clue with regard to who he was?” Frank went on to ask. “I
remember that when he first caught me by the throat he did utter a
low word, and it was a Mexican word, too,” she answered, slowly, as
though her mind might not yet be working as clearly as usual.

“That is a point, then, to be remembered,” the boy insisted, “and
here’s something that might give us another clue.”

He picked an object up from the floor, and held it aloft.

“A Mexican sombrero!” exclaimed Andy, recovering his speech at last.

“Just what it is,” said Frank, steadily, “and as is the habit with
these men from over the border, this one is decorated heavily with
silver beads, and gold buttons, as well as filigree work. One of
these hats is worth a lot of money, and the owner is as proud of it
as a lady would be of her magnificent diamonds at the opera. Please
try and think, Mrs. Ogden, did you ever see this sombrero before?”

He held it up in front of her eyes, slowly turning it around, so
that she might observe every part in turn.

The housekeeper uttered a low bubbling cry. Evidently the truth had
flashed into her mind, and she was no longer groping in the dark.
“Yes, yes, I do remember seeing that hat, Frank, Andy!” she
exclaimed.

“On the head of a certain gentleman who went by the name of Jose
Sandero?” pursued the boy, as if trying to aid her memory.

“No other, though it was some years ago!” she cried. “They always
decorate each new hat in the same way as the last. And when he was
here that time to demand his child, only to hear that the court had
given her into the keeping of Mr. Witherspoon, Jose Sandero wore
just such a sombrero. Oh! it was him, all right; and the poor little
darling has been carried off by her own unworthy father. He will
make for the border as fast as horses can carry him, hoping to be
safe beyond the line before the return of Mr. Witherspoon.”

Frank had already guessed this much. It looked like a serious
proposition; but then he was a boy not easily daunted. The more
difficult the task the greater was Frank Bird’s resolution apt to be
aroused.

First of all it seemed essential that the ranchman must be notified
of what had happened and that as quickly as possible. They were many
miles away, and doubtless much valuable time would be lost, even
after the messenger reached the round-up camp, since the boys would
be off here and there engaged in their work of gathering the cattle
for the purpose of picking out unbranded stock, and driving it in to
be marked, after it had been roped and thrown.

Meanwhile, it was necessary that they find out if possible which way
the kidnapper had gone; though the chances were ten to one the
direction would be south. There were several reasons for believing
this. In the first place Mexico lay in that quarter; and doubtless
across the border Jose Sandero had prepared a hiding place where he
could defy the United States courts to summon him. Perhaps he also
had friends and comrades awaiting him there, who would defend him
against any pursuit of the Double X Ranch cow punchers, bent on
recovering the child and punishing the bold abductor.

Frank stepped over to the window, and looked out.

It happened that just below the earth was soft, for Mr. Witherspoon
had made a brave effort to have certain flowering shrubs bloom near
the house, and several pink oleanders and scarlet hibiscus did
manage to survive the heat, being carefully watered each morning and
evening by Charley Woo with his hose. And looking closely Frank
could see the mark of footprints. He climbed out of the window and
began to follow them, Andy being quickly at his side, bubbling over
with indignation and breathing all sorts of dire threats against the
bad man who had for some reason other than affection chosen to steal
the child to whom he no longer had any claim, selecting the very
time when the punchers would be far away from the ranch house, which
he had expected would be practically left unprotected.

Frank kept on following the tracks until finally he came to the now
almost empty corral, where the riding horses were kept when the boys
were at home.

“See,” Frank observed, “here is where he had his pony tied—there
were two of them, Andy, showing that he came here with the intention
of carrying little Becky off.”

“Yes,” added Andy, “and now we ought to learn which way he went. But
Frank, there’s hardly a pony fit to ride except Alkali Joe’s mount
in the corral. They took every one along for use in the rough work
of the round-up. Uncle says he will have to break in a lot more
right away. They’ve been losing a large number lately, you remember.
Heads into the south, don’t it, Frank?”

“Yes, just as I thought it would,” muttered the other coming to a
stand, and looking away off over the level stretch of plain, as
though he wished he had eyes strong enough to discover the fleeing
marauder, miles and miles away though he must be before now.

“Poor little Becky, how frightened she must be to find herself being
carried off by that man,” remarked Andy, his voice trembling with
feeling; and he had to stop speaking to grit his teeth, as anger
almost overwhelmed him. “Of course he’s told her before now that he
is her father; but that won’t make her feel any better, because she
has heard enough from the boys to know that Jose is a bad man, who
deserted her mother, and was in one way the cause of her death.
Whatever do you suppose he did it for, Frank; not that he could care
about Becky, who looks too much like her mother did to ever make him
love her? More’n likely now, he’s gone to all this trouble, and
risked his neck in the bargain, just to get even with Uncle Jethro.”

“I wouldn’t be much surprised if you’ve hit the nail on the head,
Andy,” observed the other soberly. “But the question is, what are we
going to do about it, for it seems to me it’s up to us pretty much
to start something moving.”

Andy suddenly looked up eagerly.

“Tell you what, Frank!” he exclaimed, “we’ve got something better
than ponies to take us over the ground to where Uncle Jethro and the
boys are at work. What’s going to hinder us from making use of the
biplane to cover these miles of space? Why, we can just whizz down
there, and carry the news!”

Frank appeared to be thinking, for he did not make any remark in
answer to this bright suggestion on the part of his chum.

“Look,” Andy went on to remark, “if there isn’t Alkali Joe hobbling
around on one foot with a cane to support him. Chances are, he’ll be
asking us to let him ride for help, while we try and overtake the
kidnapper; but that would be a terrible thing to let him do. Better
send Charley Woo, if somebody has to go, and you don’t want to waste
time by using the machine.”

“I was thinking why shouldn’t we set out straight on the track of
Jose, using the biplane instead of ponies?” Frank suddenly broke out
with.

“Good! Great stunt! It does take you to think up things, Frank.
There I kept on beating about the bush, and saying we might carry
the news to the boys, when all the time we had the opening before us
to chase right after the skunk, hot-footed. And say, there’s those
fine Marlin guns we used on the bear hunt; couldn’t we make out to
carry a couple of that sort along with us, Frank? Oh! the way I feel
right now, it wouldn’t take much to tempt me to put a chunk of lead
in that Mexican, I tell you. How about that, Frank; ain’t we going
armed, if we have to try and get our little ranch butterfly back
again?”

“Of course, Andy; it would be silly to think of going without some
sort of gun along. When you’re meaning to arrest a bad man you had
ought to make sure you’re heeled so as to enforce your demands.
We’ll take shooting-irons along in numbers enough to riddle him if
it comes to a question of a stand-up fight. And now’s let’s hurry
back to the house. Before we can get off there are a few things we
must see to, you understand.”

“Then you don’t think we had better run over to where the boys are,
first of all, and let them know?” Andy went on to ask, loth to let
his suggestion be wholly thrown into the discard.

“A waste of time, when everything is going to depend on how fast we
can overtake Jose and little Becky,” Frank asserted, firmly. “We can
start Charley Woo off; or if necessary, Mrs. Ogden, who can ride
nearly as well as a man, will go. Come, the sooner we start in the
quicker we’ll be able to do something worth while.”

And Andy, duly impressed once more with the fact that Frank was able
to handle the situation, if any one could, only too gladly hurried
after his cousin when the latter headed for the house.

No one paid the least attention to the fact that it was a fine airy
morning, for the catastrophe which had come upon Double X Ranch so
suddenly had by this time filled their minds to the exclusion of
everything else.

And it was an excited group that gathered by the horse block in
front of the door—the housekeeper wringing her hands in anguish;
Frank and Andy looking very determined; Charley Woo in a flutter;
and Alkali Joe furious because of his crippled condition.


CHAPTER XVIII—THE AEROPLANE PURSUIT

“But ain’t you a-goin’ to let me ride over and tell the boss what’s
happened?” complained Alkali Joe, after Frank had in as few words as
possible explained just what he and Andy meant to do; and while this
was taking place his cousin had slipped into the house to secure the
coveted guns, the value of which they knew only too well after that
excitement over the bear hunt.

“You never could make it, Joe,” said Mrs. Ogden decisively, “chances
are you’d give that leg a wrench on the way, and just faint from the
pain. Besides, it would be a crying shame to let a wounded man
gallop all day long nearly, or even for a few hours. I’d sooner ride
myself than let you try it.”

“How about you, Charley Woo; can you ride a pony, and follow as
plain a trail as the bunch left behind them?” asked Frank, turning
to the Chinaman.

Charley Woo nodded his head so violently that his dangling queue
looked like an animated rope hanging down his back. He removed his
hands with their long fingernails, from the wide sleeves of the
jacket he wore.

“Sure tling, Flank!” he exclaimed eagerly, delighted it seemed to
have such confidence reposed in him; “him know where Mistah
Withasploon camp las’ night; been samee place much many tlimes ’long
with him. Go there light away, fast as Joe, he pony run. Tell when,
that all.”

Alkali opened his mouth to object to his favorite cayuse being
ridden by another than himself, and a miserable “Chink” at that;
then he shut his teeth hard together as he remembered what it all
meant, and how foolish he would be to throw any obstacle in the way
of the rescue of the little sunbeam that had been the idol of the
ranch for some years now.

Frank himself hurried off to rope the pony in the corral. He had
learned how to do this almost as well as any of the cow punchers
themselves; and quickly made his reappearance leading the mount that
had played havoc with his master’s limb when he failed to detect the
gopher hole in the trail. The little animal was showing all the
signs of anger at being caught by anyone other than the master he
acknowledged, but Frank had no time to waste, and had handled him
without gloves. Charley Woo did not seem to be one whit afraid
because the pony snorted and tried to bite him when he approached.
Watching his chance, when all was ready, the nimble Chinaman made a
flying leap for the saddle that would have done credit to Alkali Joe
himself. He had a quirt in his hand, secured by a stout buckskin
thong to his wrist; and no sooner did he clutch the bridle than he
brought this leather torment down upon the horse’s heaving flank
with a vicious smack.

At the same instant Frank released his grip, and away the pony flew,
the huddled figure of the Chinaman dressed in his white, flapping
garments, on his back, with his long queue flying out behind like a
rope.

“He’s headed straight to begin with,” said Andy, with a sigh of
relief.

“Charley Woo is all right,” declared Frank, “and sooner or later
he’ll get to where Mr. Witherspoon is camped, to carry him the
news.”

“He will if that pony don’t play some smart trick on him,” muttered
Alkali Joe, frowning. “You orter let me try it, Frank; I’m tough as
knots, and I reckon I’d a-stood it.”

“You get back to your bed as fast as you can, Joe,” returned Frank.
“Right now, perhaps you’ve put back the knitting of that bone, and
it may have to be set all over again when Mr. Witherspoon gets a
chance to look at it. Come along, Andy, we’ve got our job laid out
for us.”

Joe still leaned against the hitching rail, and looked longingly
after the Bird boys. From the gloom on his dark face, and the
twitching of the muscles around his mouth, it could be plainly seen
that the puncher was taking his misfortune with a bad grace; and
that he thought himself the most badly used fellow inside of fifty
miles; all because he had not been allowed to make that mad dash of
twenty or more miles in a broiling sun, with a broken leg dangling
uselessly at his side; and had to suffer the mortification of seeing
a “heathen Chinee” gallop away on his pony. It must have been a
cruel experience for Alkali Joe, and one that he would not soon
forget either.

Meanwhile the two young aviators hurried over to the frame building
that Mr. Witherspoon had had erected before their coming, and which
was to be used as a hangar for their precious biplane.

“How lucky, Frank that you overhauled the motor only yesterday,”
remarked Andy, as they reached the wide doors of the shed which,
upon being thrown open would allow of the aeroplane being wheeled
out to where they usually started off.

“I was just thinking that myself,” replied the other.

“Just like you seemed to believe we might have a sudden call for
service,” went on Andy.

“Hardly that,” Frank sent back over his shoulder, as he dove inside
the building, “you know my maxim is to be ready always, for you
never know when the emergency is going to jump out at you. These
things nearly always drop down like a bolt of lightning from a clear
sky.”

“That’s right, Frank. But there’s nothing wrong here, is there?”

“Doesn’t seem to be,” and Frank, who had hurriedly moved about from
one side of the aeroplane to the other, sighed with relief, and so
loud that Andy heard him.

“But you were afraid there might be, own up now, Frank?” he
exclaimed, quickly.

“Well, I didn’t know but that Jose might have made his way in here
last night and damaged the biplane. He sure would if he’d known how
we could use it to chase after him, five times as fast as he could
go on his pony. You know how easy it is to put such a thing out of
commission, Andy. And Jose must have been prowling about here while
we were asleep.”

“Wonder how it was Tige didn’t scent him, and give him a chase?”
remarked Andy, referring to the faithful watch dog that as a usual
thing, played the part of sentinel over the ranch house, when the
night grew old, and every inmate slept.

“Which reminds me that we haven’t seen the old fellow this morning,
Andy.”

“Great governor! that’s a fact!” exclaimed the other, excitedly.
“Say, I wouldn’t put it past that yellow-faced Mexican kidnapper to
poison poor old Tige. When they come to look, chances are they’ll
find him lying stiff in his kennel.”

“But we’ve got no time to talk that over now, Andy,” said the other.
“Lend a hand and we’ll trundle the thing out to the starting place.
Plenty of gasolene aboard, you know, because I filled the reserve
tank yesterday, thank goodness. Here comes Mrs. Ogden with a package
in her hand.”

“Bet you I know what she’s got!” exclaimed Andy; “thinks we might
get lost somewhere out on the desert, and she’s made us up a lot of
grub to carry along. Wait till I look and see if there’s plenty of
water in that jug I fixed to the back of the seat. Yes, brimful,
I’ll tie the guns here. Wait for me just three minutes, won’t you,
Frank? I’m going back to the house.”

“What notion have you got in your head now, Andy?” demanded the
other a little impatiently.

“We ought to have the glasses, you know,” came back to him.

“You’re right, and it was a good thing you thought of them,” called
Frank, only too well pleased to commend his chum for a thing of this
kind.

Andy fairly ran at top speed toward the house, and plunged in
through the open door, not wanting to waste a second more than could
be helped. He was back again at the hangar before the time allowance
he had given himself had expired; and so on arriving found that
Frank had made all other preparation necessary, so that there was
now nothing to prevent their immediate start.

“Oh! how I will pray that you get back our little darling safe and
unharmed!” the housekeeper called out to them, as they were taking
their places.

“Tell Mr. Witherspoon when you see him that we mean to do everything
we can to bring little Becky back home,” Frank said, as his last
words.

“And look up poor old Tige,” called Andy, “just as like as not
you’ll have to bury him, because he must be dead; or else chased
after the boys last night.”

Frank gave the word; each of them had a part to do in the successful
starting of the aeroplane; as the little motor burst into a merry
song they found themselves commencing to move slowly along the level
ground. Faster and faster grew the pace until Frank, deeming that
the time had come to mount upward, changed the planes, and
immediately the clever flier left the ground, rising gradually until
he felt able to increase the speed, and climb upward in spirals.

The first thing that seemed advisable in Frank’s mind was to get
some sort of bird’s-eye view of the surrounding country.

Of course he and Andy had done considerable moving about in all
directions since first coming to Arizona, so that Frank already had
a pretty fair knowledge of the vicinity. But with the glasses to
help out, he hoped to be in a position to discover several things.

“Get busy, Andy, and see what you can glimpse,” he remarked, after
they had succeeded in mounting upward to a considerable distance.

“I’ve already sighted Charley Woo,” replied the other.

“I hope then he’s going right along,” remarked Frank, anxiously, for
his attention had to be confined almost exclusively to the working
of the aeroplane, and on this account he must depend on his chum to
tell him what was happening.

“Oh!” Andy hastened to reply, “he’s still hanging to Joe’s cayuse
like a flea, and as far as I can see, whooping it up at the
liveliest pace ever. But I’m looking away beyond him to find out if
I can see the boys.”

“Well, how about it?” asked the other.

“Wait till we swing around again, and I’ll tell you.”

They were by now high enough to afford quite an extended view in
every direction. Frank’s eyes had sought the south whenever he had a
chance to take them for a second or two from his work; but Andy was
leveling the glasses in almost an opposite quarter.

“There! I’ve just glimpsed a lot of small objects moving this way
and that,” he announced suddenly, “which I take it are cattle, with
the punchers rushing them wherever they want. But they’re a whole
heap of miles away, Frank. Guess they see us by now, and expect
we’re going to sail up that way. Perhaps they’ll wonder to watch us
turn right around and go off to the south. Is it really necessary,
Frank? Couldn’t we run up there and let them know?”

“What would be the use?” returned his cousin. “They could never
catch Jose, mounted on their ponies, and him with all that start.
Why, I’m only afraid he’ll be able to cross over into Mexico before
we get up with him, for all our swiftness with our humming motor.
And minutes are apt to count big in this game, Andy, so I say we’d
better not lose any time running over there, and then going down to
let them know what’s happened. Charley Woo is on the job, and he’ll
get there sooner or later with the news.”

And so Andy said nothing more along those lines.


CHAPTER XIX—OVER PLAIN AND DESERT

“I think we’re high enough up now!” observed Frank, presently.

He no longer sent the biplane in widening circles, boring steadily
upwards; but turned toward the south and pushed for speed, as far as
was compatible with safety, which was always Frank’s way.

And Andy seemed to have now lost all interest in what lay behind,
for he was looking ahead through the glasses, as though in the hope
of discovering the kidnapper of little Becky somewhere in the hazy
distance.

It was still comparatively early in the morning, and in places there
lay an odd sort of mist that may have been a mirage, obscuring the
view, since the earth was hidden in its whitish folds.

Away beyond these spots did Andy turn his marine glasses. Now he saw
something moving that at first gave him a little shock; but on
second inspection it turned out to be a sailing buzzard, evidently
scenting some carrion in a bunch of sage brush, that gave promise of
dinner, since it was close to the earth at the time.

A minute later and Andy had another start, as once more he believed
he had discovered an object that certainly crawled over the ground.
Could it be some wounded man, or one who was perishing for a drink
of water, in that arid land bordering the desert?

But hardly had this thought occurred to Andy than he realized his
mistake; for he now saw that it was only a cowardly coyote,
shuffling along as though ashamed to be caught returning to his den
at such an hour of the morning, after an all night feast, perhaps.

Down below them they could see the plain which formed a part of
Double X Ranch. It looked like a great checkerboard, on account of
the different colors of the soil, which stood out in relief when one
was directly above. Had there been any water there they could have
seen to the very bottom, even though it were twenty feet deep, such
is the advantage which this lofty position gives. No wonder, thought
Andy, that the hawk is able to pick out just the fish he wants for
his dinner, and then finds it so easy to pounce down upon the
unfortunate thus selected.

Frank was listening to the buzz of the motor. Whenever they were
thus humming along through space this was his favorite occupation.
And indeed, when one stops to consider how much depended on the
successful operation of that same industrious engine, he could be
easily excused for taking such intense interest in its labors. Let
it suddenly get out of condition and it would bring the daring young
aviators face to face with a crisis that might threaten even their
lives. Deprived of the means of making progress would necessitate a
volplane toward the ground, always a dangerous performance and one
that should only be attempted when the conditions are all favorable,
or some desperate need arises.

Turn whichever way Andy would nothing but disappointment seemed to
meet him; and being pretty much an impulsive boy, perhaps it was
only natural that he should voice his disgust.

“Oh! I wouldn’t give that any worry,” Frank told him. “If Jose has
had as much time as we think, he must be away ahead of the line of
your observation just now, especially on account of all that haze
along the horizon.”

“But if we can’t see him, how are we to know that we’re keeping in a
direct line after him?” demanded the one who wielded the glasses.
“We can only take our chances,” Frank answered, steadily, as though
he did not mean to be ruffled so early in the game, when so many
things remained untried, any one of which might sooner or later
prove to be the magic key, fated to unlock the treasure chest.

“And just keep on heading south, is that it, Frank?”

“Exactly so, Andy. We’re about dead sure that it’s Jose who carried
away Little Sunbeam; and knowing that, we can figure he’s sure to
make a bee line for the nearest place where the border comes. So I’m
shaping our course for that same region myself. And when we get
there, perhaps we’ll find we’ve been left in the lurch and that his
fast ponies have won the day.”

“And what then, Frank; would we have to turn around and come back
like a dog with his tail between his legs, just because the
kidnapper managed to quit American soil, and get on that belonging
to Mexico? As for me, I’d be willing to give him the merry chase
right down along the line till we landed in Mexico City, or else in
a Black Hole in some town on the way.”

“I feel pretty much the same way, Andy; but first of all, you see,
we’ve just got to find out where the man and child are. So keep on
looking while I drive her along a little faster. I think we can
stand another turn, with this light and favorable breeze carrying us
with it.”

For several minutes no one said a single word. Frank was busy with
his motor, while Andy had his eyes fairly glued to the small end of
the glasses, as though he kept hoping that he would make a pleasing
discovery the very next minute.

Now even the ranch building would be found to look very small and
far to their rear, did they bother glancing back that way, which, to
tell the truth, neither of them did.

And at the same time the rough country came closer, until one could
see where the fertile plain really ended, and the sandy desert
began.

Unless one made a very wide detour it was absolutely necessary to
cross over this arid waste in order to reach the Mexican border.
Frank had been figuring it all out. He believed that Jose, being a
bold and audacious man, would not think of taking the longer route.
In the first place that course was apt to keep him exposed to the
hot pursuit which he knew he could count on as the result of his
audacious exploit. And doubtless Jose was fully aware of the
reputation those hard riding cow punchers connected with the Double
X Ranch had as trackers and fighters too, on occasion. What they had
done to the Mexican cattle rustlers must have made a reputation for
them across the border; so that Jose knew what chances he was taking
when he started in to steal his daughter, which the court had given
over into the keeping of her relative, Mr. Witherspoon.

And Andy was not a great while in making the discovery that they
were now approaching the confines of that sandy region where the sun
beat pitilessly down all through the livelong hours of the day, and
the heat must be terrific.

Up where they were they could feel nothing of the earth’s radiation,
and doubtless it would be delightfully cool.

Beyond as far as the eye could reach, it held, that same glaring
stretch of glistening sand, on the surface of which toward noon it
would be easily possible to fry an egg; indeed Andy had actually
done the same on a previous visit, when they dropped down to
discover how it felt to be adrift in the midst of a desert, he
having been put up to the game through words spoken by Buckskin.

Far away to the west he saw the tops of high mountains, but they
must have been scores of miles off. Between doubtless lay the
desert, with perhaps a stretch of the plain where the grass grew,
and even flowers could be found in their season, all the difference
being brought about by the presence of earth in the one case and
nothing but sand in the other.

On this waste nothing seemed to grow save the cactus that stood up
like giant sentinels guarding the cemetery of centuries. Here and
there one could find the skulls and bones of unfortunate animals
that had become lost in the sand storms occasionally blowing over
this heated stretch, to perish miserably from suffocation or else
subsequent thirst.

Straining his eyes Andy kept on looking, always hoping that the very
next minute might result in a pleasing discovery. If the glare
caused his eyes to burn he paid little attention to that discomfort.
All the while he was thinking how terrible it would be if they had,
after all, made a mistake in figuring out the probable way Jose
would take in trying to escape the penalty of his cruel deed. Should
he have turned aside, and continued to avoid the desert, all their
work would go for nothing.

Still, Andy had the utmost confidence in his chum’s ability to
grapple with a question like this. He felt that Frank must know just
about what would be passing in the mind of the man they were
hunting. Frank had a faculty for putting himself in another’s place,
and figuring things out from that standpoint.

And then there was another comforting thought that came to Andy.
Supposing the fugitive had done this same thing, he could not reach
the border under several days, since the desert was extensive; and
surely there would be a good chance of the hard-riding cowboys
coming up on him meanwhile.

They would of course follow directly on his trail, their practiced
eyes picking it out of the many that crossed the level stretch to
the south of the ranch buildings. And like bloodhounds on the scent,
once they had started, they would keep it up to the end.

As the aeroplane pushed on, and neared the border of the desert, so
plainly marked below, Andy gave an ejaculation that caused Frank to
look expectant.

“A pony, Frank, yes, two of them feeding there, and without saddle
or bridle to show that they have been ridden. Whatever can that
mean?” he called out, so as to be heard above the humming of the
motor.

“I think I can guess,” replied the other, quickly. “This has been a
deep-laid scheme, and no sudden fancy. Jose has made all sorts of
preparations for carrying it out with success. He knows that perhaps
his life would pay the penalty for any failure. So, you see, Andy,
chances are, he left two fresh ponies staked out here and ready for
use when he came along after riding the others for these twenty or
more miles. A quick change of saddles and bridles, and then he and
the little girl were away again, this time striking out straight
across the sand, and headed for the nearest point of the Mexican
border.”

“That sounds like you had guessed it first pop out of the bottle,
Frank,” the other went on to say, “and if it’s so, then we’re bound
to come up on him before long.”

Andy once more started to glue his eyes to the end of the field
glasses. Carefully did he scrutinize every object he could pick out
along the horizon ahead. If he had any idea that it moved, he would
stop in his shifting movement to concentrate his gaze long and
earnestly upon that one spot; but only to give a grunt of bitter
disappointment, and once more continue to scan the waste of sand
beyond.

So it went on for some time. The minutes must have seemed unduly
long to the ever anxious lad. Frank, more inclined to take things as
they came, always hoping for the best, was better able to control
his emotions. It had perhaps been twenty minutes since they reached
the border of the desert, and now on all sides they could see
actually nothing but that same dead glare of the burning sun beating
on the absorbing sand.

Frank was himself thinking that they must have reached the limit of
distance which the fugitive could have covered, even though he had a
fresh relay of ponies to help him along; when once again he heard
his cousin give utterance to that bubbling little cry that seemed to
announce a fresh discovery.


CHAPTER XX—WHAT ANDY SAW FROM ALOFT

“No false alarm this time, eh, Andy?” asked Frank, quickly.

“I think not,” came the ready response.

“Ponies again?” queried the pilot, as he steadied the quivering
biplane by a little movement that had become second nature with both
young aviators; just as a boy rider on a bicycle unconsciously bends
his body at just the proper angle when about to whirl around a curve
in the road.

“Yes,” the other replied.

“And riders too, this time, I hope?” Frank went on.

“I’m dead sure of it, because there are two horses, and they’re
running along side by side, Frank.”

“That looks more like it; and I want to say it’s about time we
struck some good warm scent about now. That Jose had been going at a
mad pace ever since the start, and the poor little girl, how I pity
her, Andy.”

“But however in the wide world d’ye suppose she could stick on a
pony through it all?” the boy with the glasses asked, wonder in his
voice, as he continued to keep watch upon the far distant moving
objects which he had discovered, thanks to the magnifying qualities
of the powerful lens.

“Oh! there’s only one answer to that, my boy,” answered Frank. “Jose
must have tied her to the pony. And even at that I feel mighty sorry
for the little thing, for it must have been a terrible run, all
these hours.”

“The inhuman scoundrel!” growled Andy, almost savagely. “I’d just
like to see him get what’s coming to him, if the boys ever lay hands
on him.”

“Well,” observed Frank, “I wouldn’t say that, until we find out how
Becky’s stood the long ride. If he’s been cruel to her besides, then
I’d be inclined to say what you did; but there’s always the chance
that the man really wants to have possession of his own child; for
he’s her father, we’ve got to remember.”

“Yes, but think of all we’ve heard from the boys at the ranch about
how badly he treated Mr. Witherspoon’s niece, after running away
with her, and marrying her. You needn’t tell me, Frank, that such a
man is going to care anything for his own child. Like enough he
hates Becky, just because she looks like the wife he treated so bad.
And I’m ready to believe he’s doing this right now, not to get
possession of his own, but to strike a blow at Uncle Jethro, because
he hates him so.”

“I’m not saying that it isn’t so, because all things point that
way,” Frank continued. “But how are we coming on now, Andy?”

“Drawing up on them by degrees; but I notice that you’ve cut off
more’n a little power, Frank, and that we’re not rushing along as
fast as we were. Tell me, what have you done that for?”

“Well, you see, now that we’ve sighted our game there’s no need of
rushing things at racehorse speed. We’d better go along a little
slower, and try to get the lay of things in our minds before we drop
down, and surprise Mr. Jose Sandero,” was the way the aeroplane
pilot made reply.

There was little of the haphazard about Frank. As a general rule he
had a reason for everything he did; and each move was carefully
considered beforehand.

Not that he could not do things with lightning-like rapidity when
there was actual need for haste, because he had frequently surprised
even quick moving Andy on occasions; but the chances were he had
thought out all the results of the action before the occasion for it
came about.

And the beauty of the relationship between the two Bird boys lay in
this fact, that Andy recognized his cousin’s superiority of
judgment, and rarely, if ever, questioned his decision.

This did not mean that Andy was merely an “echo,” for that would be
a wrong view to take of the case; he had a mind of his own, and
often Frank was only too glad to ask his advice when a little in
doubt himself. But when two fellows keep company a long time as
chums, they gradually come to know each other “from the ground up,”
as Andy would express it; and one of them just naturally forges a
little to the front as the leader.

In the case of the Bird boys it happened to be Frank, that was all.

As they kept on advancing after the moving figures, Andy would from
time to time continue to make some remark, as he looked through the
glasses; so that in this way Frank was posted on how things were
going.

Even though he cast an occasional glance ahead on his own account,
as yet he had not been able to exactly locate the fugitives. This
might partly be on account of the smallness of two ponies at such a
distance; and then again the glare of the sun, far up in the
heavens, in spite of the early hour, was very strong on the desert
sand.

There was one thing that Frank was pretty positive about; he
believed that the fugitive Mexican could hardly as yet have
discovered what was coming after him. To his naked eye the aeroplane
would hardly be noticed at all; or if it did accidentally catch his
attention, he would believe that it was merely some buzzard, or
perhaps a great bald eagle floating in space far up in the blue
expanse of sky.

If he looked back at all he would be more apt to confine his anxious
gaze to the level horizon, for it would be there an enemy was apt to
appear; no sane man could dream of an attack from above, since
aeroplanes have not yet become so common as to be recognized by
everyone.

And so the pursuit went on.

Andy seemed deeply engrossed in his business of “keeping tab” on the
movements of those so far in front.

Presently he began to notice that Frank was doing something to
effect a change in their relative positions.

“Are you going down now?” Andy demanded a little fearfully, as
though he could not understand why such a move should be in order.
“Better now, than later on,” returned the pilot. “We’re too high up
to be able to make any sort of landing when we want to. Besides now
that you’ve got track of Jose, there’s really no need of keeping to
this high elevation.”

“Then after you bring the biplane down to a lower level, we can just
rush things, if we think it best, is that it, Frank?”

“My notion to a dot, Andy.”

They were already circling around, so as to descend in the safer
“spirals.” Frank would not take the great risk of volplaning when
the other way answered just as well, and at one-tenth the chance of
accident.

Andy managed to keep his eyes on the distant ponies pretty much all
the time the aeroplane was dropping in those immense circles, each
one lower in the grand spiral than the preceding one.

“They’re gaining some on us, Frank!” he finally announced,
regretfully, as if he just could not bear the thought.

“Oh! that’s a mere nothing,” declared his cousin, cheerfully; “and I
wouldn’t bother my head over it, if I were you, Andy. Why, when we
get to where I want to go, all I’ve got to do is to put on speed,
and we’ll make that up in three shakes of a lamb’s tail. What are
two or three miles to a wonder of the air that can, if hard pushed,
clip along at the rate of a hundred an hour, and perhaps that is far
from the capacity of a reliable biplane with a favorable wind.”

As usual Frank managed to cheer his chum up immediately.

“Sure, you’re about right, Frank, and I was silly to let it bother
me. But seems as if we ought to be down nearly far enough. If there
were any trees here we’d be only a couple of hundred feet or so
above their tops. And whew! Frank, I can feel the heat of that
desert easy enough now, even while we’re moving along like we are.”

“It’s all over now, and I don’t mean to go down any further. Tell me
if you can still see Jose and the little girl, Andy?”

“Yes, I can see the ponies moving like crabs away off there; and I’m
taking it for granted that the ones we’re chasing after are mounted
on the same, Frank. Oh! wouldn’t it be a terrible disappointment
now, if after we got up close we found we’d been bamboozled, and
that these were only a couple of Indians, or Mexicans going back
home after trading in some American town?”

“There’s always a little chance that way,” Frank admitted, “but all
the same I don’t believe we’re going to be disappointed. Traders
would hardly strike across this desert, you understand. It’s a bad
place to get lost in, and mighty unpleasant traveling at the best.
Few people cross it, they said at the ranch. Once in a while some
Indians wander down here from their reservation in the northern end
of the State. You know the Navajos used to be in this region, and
the Comanches too, I was told, before the Government rounded them
up, and gave them lands up there, besides paying them a big sum
every year in money and supplies.”

“I wonder——” began Andy, and then stopped, while he screwed his eyes
still closer to the ends of the twin tubes of the marine glasses.

“What’s the matter now?” asked Frank, realizing that in all
probability Andy had made some fresh discovery.

“Frank, there’s sure something moving over beyond where Jose and
Becky are plodding along. I can see several dots, and they have life
to them, too! It looks for all the world to me as if a pack of
wolves might be lying in wait for the ponies—half starved wolves
maybe, crazy for a chance to pull them down, and make a meal.”
“Wolves,” repeated the other, thoughtfully; “it would be hard for me
to believe such animals would ever be found in the middle of this
sandy desert, where they’d never find a bite of food in a year, and
not a drop of water. You must be mistaken, Andy; look again, won’t
you, please?”

Nevertheless the suggestion appeared to influence Frank so that he
again sent the aeroplane ahead at full speed; and Andy had a little
difficulty in keeping his glasses steady when leveling them, such
was the constant vibration of the uprights, under the full force of
the powerful little Kinkaid engine.

But it was so much in sympathy with his own desire to get ahead that
Andy was willing to put up with almost any trouble. He knew
instinctively from the feel of the biplane that they were now
speeding.

A minute later, and he gave another exclamation.

“Frank, I saw something flash just then; and as sure as you live I
believe it must have been the sunlight glistening on steel, just
like it might be a gun barrel or a knife!”

“Do you mean that you saw it ahead of Jose, and among the crawling
objects you thought were wolves?” demanded the other. “Yes, yes,
there it is again, Frank!”

“Well, that settles one thing then—they’re hardly wolves, Andy; for
I never yet heard of such animals carrying either guns or knives,
did you?”

“They’re spreading out, Frank, just like they were lying in wait for
Jose. And while it looks queer from up here why doesn’t he discover
them, I suppose that’s because they’re hiding behind some sand
hills,” Andy went on to say.

“But you don’t think any longer that they can be wolves, do you,
Andy?”

“Not much,” the other replied. “We’re getting closer all the time,
and now I can see that they must be walking on two legs; though for
that matter they seem to be sprawled out pretty much all of the
time, like great toads, hopping this way and that. And Jose, he
don’t know what’s waiting for him, not one little bit.”

“Then he’s still going on, is he?” asked Frank.

“Yes, and now I can see that each pony has a rider; why, Frank,
we’re bearing down on them so fast that I can tell Jose from little
Becky. It’s her, all right, Frank. Don’t I see her hair flying out
behind as she rides. Oh! the meanness of that skunk making that
little child gallop across this red-hot desert, just to save himself
from being caught by our boys.”

“Well, you could hardly blame him for that,” Frank went on to say,
with a touch of humor in his voice, “because what a bunch of furious
cow punchers wouldn’t do to him you could say in one breath. But
tell me, how does it look now?”

“They’re getting mighty close to where the men are waiting, Frank.
Whoever do you suppose they can be?”

“We’ve heard a lot about that Mexican cattle rustler, Carlos, since
we’ve come to the ranch; perhaps, now, these may be some of his
crowd. They’ve got no love for the Double X Ranch boys, you
remember; and if they think Jose and the child belong there, it’s
going to go hard with them. But you see we don’t know all about it
yet. Take a closer look, Andy.”

“Yes, I’ve got the lot in focus,” muttered the other.

“Do you see any feathers about them—examine their heads, and tell
me,” Frank went on to say.

“Feathers!” ejaculated Andy, in astonishment, “why what in the wide
world would—say, Frank, do you have an idea that they may be
Indians?” “Well, I heard your uncle say that once in a while they’ve
seen a squad of the reds down this way, sort of escaped from their
reservation, and trying to see how it feels to be wild again. How
about those feathers, Andy?”

“Why, there does seem to be something queer about the heads of those
chaps, I give you my word there is, Frank. Honest now, I believe
you’ve struck it right, and that they are Indians, but Frank, would
they hold Jose up, and perhaps take his scalp, just like in the old
days?”

“If so be they’ve been indulging in too much firewater. I wouldn’t
put even that past them,” the other boy answered, soberly.

“Well,” added Andy, with a shutting of his teeth; “I’m glad of one
thing, then.”

“What’s that?” questioned the other.

“That we brought our bully old Marlins along, Frank!” was the quick
response Andy made.


CHAPTER XXI—THE TERROR OF THE AIR

“Perhaps you’d better be getting the guns loose, Andy,” suggested
Frank, in his quiet way.

“You bet I will, and only too glad of the chance; but can you hold
yours while you steer; or shall I fix it, so you can grab it up the
very second you land the biplane on the sand?” Andy asked, as he let
the glasses hang by their strap, and with hands that doubtless
trembled more than a little, he proceeded to unfasten the two
repeating Marlins with which so much execution had been done on the
occasion of the grizzly bear hunt.

“Better lay it in the crotch you made for me, where I can get it in
a hurry when my hands are free,” the pilot explained.

By the time all this had been done they were of course much closer
to the scene of the expected trouble. And when Andy again picked up
the glasses, and clapped them to his eyes, he uttered new
exclamations that indicated excitement.

“It’s coming, Frank!” he exclaimed.

“You mean the attack, Andy?”

“Yes, because now Jose seems to have become suddenly suspicious.
There, I can see him jump off his pony, and he’s doing something
with Becky. As sure as anything, Frank, I do believe he’s cutting
the strap that’s held the child to the saddle. That looks like he
expects trouble, don’t it?”

“I should say yes,” replied Frank, shortly.

“Hark! did you hear that?” suddenly demanded Andy.

“I thought I caught a faint sound like a shot,” replied the other.

“That was just what it was, Frank. I saw the smoke long before we
got the crack of the gun.”

“Who fired?” demanded Frank.

“One of those concealed Indians; and there goes another, and yet a
third shot! Oh! Frank what if they should hit poor little Becky, the
half-drunken scamps, trying to believe these are the good old days
when they chased white men across the plains. Just listen to the
shots would you, Frank?”

Andy was fairly quivering with the nervous tension. What made it
doubly hard was the fact that while he could see these exciting
things so easily through the powerful lens of the glasses, yet they
were still far away from the scene of action and unable to raise a
hand as yet to render any assistance, should such be needed.

“What is Jose doing now?” asked Frank.

“Oh! one of the ponies seems to be down, and for the life of me I
can’t tell you whether it was shot, or has laid down like some of
those cow ponies are taught to do, Frank. There goes the other one
the same way. And now Jose has pulled the little girl down with him.
They’re out of sight behind the bodies of the ponies, I do believe,
Frank!”

“Bully for Jose, then; he sure knows how to stand the Indians off!”
exclaimed Frank; and for the time being Andy seemed to forget that
just a minute or two back he had been declaring that the same Jose
deserved the worst punishment the cow-punchers from the Double X
Ranch could deal out to him, for he almost echoed the words of his
chum.

“Good! good! he’s opened fire, too, for I can see the puff of smoke
each time he pulls trigger. Oh! Frank!”

“Well, what now?” demanded the other, a little impatiently, as Andy
paused after giving that last exclamation that might stand for
almost anything.

“He hit one of the Indians that time, as sure as anything!” Andy
declared, with a ring of delight in his voice.

“What makes you think so?” demanded Frank.

“Didn’t I see him turn a flop, though; and right now he’s holding
his leg like fun! Guess he got a puncture in his tire, all right,
Frank. After all, that Jose can shoot some, let me tell you. There,
I do believe he’s gone and done it again!”

“What! hit another Indian, Andy?”

“Well, I c’n see a second fellow rolling over and over; and now he
sits up and it looks like he’s examining his arm. Perhaps they’re
beginning to learn that it ain’t all one sided after all, this
stopping a mounted man, and trying some of the old tricks. Mebbe
they’ll want to clear out now, Frank?”

“That wouldn’t be like Indian nature, from what they’ve been telling
me since we came here,” Frank went on to say. “They’re all as
obstinate as they make them; and the chances are, these fellows will
just be more bent on shooting Jose up than ever, if, as you say,
he’s already pinked a couple of their men.”

“Well, they don’t seem to be clearing out that I can notice, and
that’s a fact,” Andy admitted immediately afterward. Frank could
himself hear the reports of guns being discharged, and they came so
thick and fast that he could almost imagine a battle was being
fought between large numbers of enemies on either side. Evidently
the Indians were flush with ammunition, and did not hesitate to use
it plentifully. The White Father in Washington would supply them
with plenty more when this was gone; or at any rate the hard cash
with which to purchase the same. And they were just as prodigal in
wasting cartridges as so many half-grown and irresponsible boys
might have been.

For the number of shots that kept ringing out, the amount of damage
done must have been remarkably small, from the accounts Andy kept
giving him.

The Indians were creeping along wherever they could find protection
by way of the sand dunes; and the watcher in the air declared that
he believed they meant to completely surround the man at bay, when
doubtless they could pour in such a hot fire that he would either
have to surrender, or else be wiped out.

It was a pretty exciting time for the two young aviators while they
were thus speeding toward the scene of the desert warfare. The
biplane was doing its level best, and yet so impatient was Andy to
arrive before the Indians had succeeded in accomplishing their
terrible work that it seemed to him they were fairly crawling along.

“Oh! can’t we go faster, Frank?” he begged more than once.

“We’re doing the limit right now,” Frank would answer.

“I suppose so, Frank, but don’t you know it seems like we’d never
get there at this pace,” Andy would go on to say.

“Keep cool,” was the advice of the other.

“I’m trying as hard as I can to do that, but it makes me shiver all
over when I think of poor little Becky being exposed to that
shooting,” said Andy, between his clenched teeth.

“Well, let’s hope Jose has been merciful enough to keep her lying
flat on the ground behind the ponies. They must be dead, Andy,
because with all that lead flying around no cayuse would ever
consent to lie still, wounded perhaps at that. And their bodies
would protect the child, even if they didn’t do the same altogether
for the man. Is he still shooting?”

“I haven’t noticed a puff of smoke over the spot for some time—but
there, I did get a glimpse of one just then; and Frank, believe me,
he must have done it again, because I can see several of the others
crawling toward one that seems to be kicking on the ground. There,
they’re helping him away. Let me tell you that same Jose is no
slouch when it comes to using a gun. He must have had a lot of
practice in the revolutions they have every little while down in
Mexico since Diaz was kicked out. I take off my hat to Jose when it
comes to knocking chips off the shoulders of half-drunken reds.”

And this was the same Jose whom Andy had been saying such hard
things against only a short time before; but then circumstances
alter cases; and right now Jose was risking his life in defense of
the little girl whom he had for some reason kidnapped from her home.

When they had been observing these things some time back they may
have been as much as ten miles away from the scene of spirited
action; but as the biplane was spinning along at a tremendous pace,
in spite of the belief of Andy that it did not seem to be doing its
best, this distance was being rapidly diminished.

Whenever the shots came now they were plainly heard, as the air
seemed to be directly in the faces of the aeroplane boys while thus
heading into the south.

And Andy also noticed that they kept gradually sinking just a little
lower as they proceeded. Had he been able to allow himself time to
think this over, he must have guessed why Frank was doing this; and
that he wanted to avoid being discovered by the Indians until he
could suddenly burst upon their vision in a terrifying apparition,
frightening them so badly that they would only think of making a
hasty flight.

Well, things were going on at such a pace now that whatever the
outcome might prove to be, it would soon be over. In a couple of
minutes at most the oncoming air wonder must have arrived so close
to the scene of the disturbance that its presence could no longer be
concealed from the sharp eyes of the Indians. Some warrior whose
eyesight had not been so seriously impaired by the strong drink he
had purchased from some bootlegger or trader, would while peeping
around a sand dune, suddenly discover that dreadful apparition
coming straight through the air, with an angry mutter that could
only mean the sore displeasure of the Great Spirit, whose messenger
this frightful object must be.

And when this occurred, Frank was rather inclined to believe there
would be a scamper on the part of the frolicking Indians such as had
not been seen on this same desert for many a day.

Luckily they could depend on the stability of their machine; and
every particular part of the framework had been carefully gone over
just the preceding day by the one whose hand now controlled the
levers by means of which the aeroplane was guided on its way through
space.

Hence, there was little likelihood of any accident happening. Frank
did not allow the thought of such a thing to enter into his
calculations. He placed the fullest dependence upon those staunch
steel guys and the faithful little motor that never yet had failed
him in time of need.

“Oh! will we ever get there?” groaned Andy.

“Keep cool, and hold on; we’re doing fine!” was Frank’s advice.

“But I think they’re getting ready to rush Jose now!” the other went
on to declare, with renewed excitement.

“What makes you think that, Andy?”

“They seem to have gathered in knots in three places, and act like
they meant to make a swoop down on him from all sides at once,” came
the answer.

“Well, if they’ll only hold off another minute or two we’ll fix
things so that their swoop’ll turn out a fizzle. Tell me when they
start out on the run, Andy, because I want to turn on our siren, you
know.”

“Oh! I clean forgot all about that little trick Frank!”

Frank some time before had arranged a contrivance by means of which
he could make the engine sound a loud-voiced whistle that he always
called a siren, because it had all the harsh, discordant notes of
the big steam fog-horns to be heard in some places along the stormy
coasts of our country, where the dangerous shoals or reefs make it
important that vessels should be warned while still far out at sea.

This could be made to do duty at a second’s notice. Of course the
boys did not often sound the deep-throated whistle or horn, because
it was apt to create too much alarm in every living thing that heard
it for the first time, animals as well as human beings.

But in a desperate case such as the one by which they were now
confronted this hoarse-tongued signal might prove the very finest
auxiliary they could hope to have in alarming the attacking Indians.

And here Andy, with his usual thoughtlessness had entirely forgotten
about such a means of sending out a warning; while Frank had it in
his mind all along. That little incident showed the difference
between the two cousins; for with all his good qualities Andy often
forgot things that it would have paid him well to remember.

Both of them were intensely interested by now, and a study of their
set faces would have been worth while. Andy did not depend on the
glasses any longer to tell how things were progressing, since they
had come close enough for him to see with the naked eye. Of course,
the fact that they were several hundred feet above the level of the
sand gave considerable assistance, for they were entirely free from
the little dazzling heat waves that must hug the face of the desert
more and more as the day advanced, making seeing perfectly a
difficult job.

The seconds clicked along, each one in the mind of the impatient
Andy being registered by so many loud “pops” of the exhaust, for it
was not muffled now.

“There, what did I tell you, Frank; listen to those awful yells,
would you? Oh! he knocked one over then, I say! But the whole lot
have started up, and bending low down are sprinting in the direction
of Jose as fast as they can go. Frank, why don’t you do something
before they get to him? It’s now or never, I tell you; just hear the
guns going off with a rattle and a bang! Frank——”

But Andy’s words were suddenly lost in a most terrific roaring sound
that broke forth, as Frank turned on the big siren whistle or horn.
Across the face of the desert went the strange sound, in a wave that
would annihilate space. And coming to the startled ears of the
on-rushing Indians, it must have instantly riveted their attention.

Imagine their astonishment when upon raising their eyes for the
first time they discovered what seemed to be a tremendous bird
rushing through the air toward them and uttering that thrilling
whoop, the like of which none of them had ever heard before.


CHAPTER XXII—THE BIRD BOYS’ TRIUMPH

The aeroplane was speeding down upon the spot, with that
loud-throated siren going at full blast. Andy had been holding
himself in so long now, that it was utterly impossible for him to
stand it any longer; so he too let out a series of ear-piercing
shrieks that at least added to the din.

Not content with that the boy commenced firing his repeating Marlin.
He did not bother trying to take any particular aim, which would of
course have been next to impossible in the swaying aeroplane, any
way; but only meant to add all he could to the tremendous din
accompanying their swoop.

Frank could see all that happened, because they were no longer far
away. No need of glasses either at this stage of the game. He could
note the movements of every one of those who had been in the act of
rushing the Mexican at bay when the appearance of the biplane in the
near heavens came to put a damper on their enthusiasm.

Although at first stunned by the sight that met their startled eyes,
and the ear-splitting sounds accompanying the same, the runaway
Indians from the reservation had quickly remembered that they still
had legs. If any of them had been a bit wobbly before, on account of
the potions they had been imbibing, it seemed to be driven from
their systems by this scare, for they ran like prize sprinters. Even
the several wounded warriors endeavoring to flatten themselves down
behind the sand dunes, as though in hopes of being able to hide from
the argus eyes of this wonder of the skies.

Andy no longer had any fears concerning the attack, for he saw that
it had been effectually broken up by their coming. He started to
shout again, but found it beyond his ability, for the situation had
resolved itself into a comical farce by this time in the boy’s mind,
and offered all the humorous aspects of a great joke.

But none of those Indians thought so, if one could judge from the
way they were running. Andy had seen rabbits speeding away after the
crack of a gun; but that was hardly in the same class with what
those braves did that morning.

Some of them jumped this way and that as they sped off; as though
under the impression that they might thus escape the swarm of
bullets that their imagination filled the air with, on hearing the
crackle of Andy’s fast-shooting gun. Others dodged behind each
succeeding sand hill, and then appearing beyond, continued their
flight in eccentric curves; only glad if by this means they might
escape the terrible eye of that mighty bird that came whirring
along, letting out such hideous war cries, and assuming all the
appearances of a dragon as pictured by the Chinese on their flags
and everywhere.

Frank did not attempt to alight just then; he believed that it was
good policy to make sure that the hostiles had all been frightened
off before exposing the fact that after all it was only two boys in
some clever invention of the white man who had come upon the scene.

And so, instead of heading directly for the spot where Jose lay
behind the two ponies, which they now realized were surely dead,
Frank continued to sweep around in a widening circle.

It was worth while to see the abject terror of such of the Indians
as they passed over. They would flatten themselves on the burning
sand, as though hoping in this way to escape the attention of the
terror that was seeking its prey; nor did any one of them dare to
turn his head to look upward at the monstrous bird with that loud
shriek.

From a distance one or two discharged guns at the speeding
aeroplane, but of course there was not one chance in ten thousand of
the bullets doing any execution while the Bird boys were rushing
along at such a pace; indeed, they did not even hear the whine of
the passing lead.

Frank had his hands full taking care of the biplane, so that even
had he desired to do so he could not have added anything to the
racket. One hand controlled the lever which brought about the
circling movement of the aeroplane, while with the other he kept
that siren busy.

But by now Andy had bethought him of another means for adding to the
panic of the fleeing Indians. In the box just back of him he
happened to have a number of large cannon firecrackers. Under
ordinary conditions these would appear to be rather queer things to
carry on an aeroplane; but it seemed that Andy was particularly
interested in experimenting with dropping stones which he called
“bombs,” from a great height, in order to see how aeroplanes might
be made useful in war times. And thinking some time to rather
astonish Frank by sending down some of those big explosives, he had
smuggled them aboard.

The idea had about passed from his mind at this time, but suddenly
remembering the big red crackers, he was now pulling them out, and
feeling for some of those wind matches they always carried when on a
trip, because they could be used no matter what current of air they
happened to be passing through.

Frank did not see what his cousin was doing. In the first place he
had enough to look after as it was; and then again, when he could
spare a second, he wanted to ascertain what the Indians were up to.

The first thing he knew about it was when a terrific report came
from directly under the aeroplane, and close to the face of the
sandy stretch. Immediately on top of it came a shriek from Andy.

“Oh! it nearly fell on top of that Indian before it exploded, Frank!
If only you could have seen him go head over heels; and now he’s
running to beat the band! Talk to me about a scared rabbit, these
noble red men are sure the limit. I really believe they think the
Day of Judgment has come along ahead of time. If you keep it up much
longer, Frank, I’m going to fall right out of my seat; I’m laughing
so hard I just can’t sit still.”

“Then perhaps it’s about time we called a stop on the excitement,
and let the poor fellows get away,” said Frank.

“No danger of them coming back again,” ventured Andy, as he threw
his last big cannon cracker in the quarter where he had caught sight
of another brave trying to dig a hole in the sand, as though wild to
cover himself up, and thus avoid attracting the attention of the
monster bird.

His aim was pretty fair, since Andy had been practicing this thing
for quite some time now. The explosion took place on schedule time,
too; and with about as tremendous a result as before; since it sent
the terrorized warrior flying off as if he believed the Evil Spirit
were in full pursuit.

Frank turned back.

The coast seemed clear of Indians now, even the wounded braves
having found some way of hiding from sight. Perhaps they had in
despair scooped hollows out of the burning sand, and were even now
lying under a scanty covering of the same, trembling in mortal
terror of discovery.

Neither of the Bird boys cared whether this were so or not. They had
succeeded in accomplishing their main object; which of course had
been to give the assailants of Jose a severe scare, so as to scatter
them to the four winds. And now the next thing they wanted to do was
to drop to the earth, and capture the man himself.

Accordingly Frank guided the biplane to where he thought best to
make his landing. Then he proceeded to accomplish this ordinary feat
with his accustomed ability.

As the sand was loose and liable to clog the wheels, he had to be
additionally careful about landing. And Frank had already
experimented in getting up again after dropping upon such a shifting
bed, so that he knew just how it should be done.

Picking out a spot which looked better than anything around it, he
brought the aeroplane to the ground so softly that it almost seemed
like a thistle-down blown by the wind, and alighting.

The motor had ceased to whirr, and the propellers to whizz as Andy,
clutching his Marlin in his grasp, sprang from his seat to the sand.

Frank was hardly three seconds behind him, and it might be noticed
that he too held one of the useful guns.

Who could tell what need they might have for these life preservers,
when adrift in such a desert land, and with reckless Indians all
around them; not to speak of the man who lay behind the two dead
ponies, with his gun covering them even now.

Frank was not taking any chances with Jose. He knew that the Mexican
must be in a desperate frame of mind, and ready to fight to the last
gasp before he would consent to yield. And Frank believed in
strategy when it could be made to answer the purpose.

What they wanted above all else just now was the return of little
Becky to the care of her legal guardian. They were not appointed to
wreak vengeance on the head of the father who had seen fit to steal
his own child away. Besides, somehow, after seeing how valiantly
Jose had held the whole band of reservation Indians at bay, both
boys felt considerable more respect for the Mexican. At least he was
no coward, even if his actions in the past had been along that line,
Jose, like so many of his class was a bravo; he could display mean
traits toward women and children, but face half a dozen men in a
brawl, or a fight like this, without showing the white feather.

So Frank immediately held up his hand, as he called aloud:

“Halloo! Jose Sandero! do not fire upon us! We will not do you harm
if you turn over the child to us to take back to her home! Do you
understand me?”

They saw the figure of the Mexican now. He had scrambled to his feet
to face the boys who had come so happily to his rescue just in time
to save his life. Perhaps this fact was duly impressed upon the mind
of the man from across the border. He owed these lads something, and
a Mexican always has an exaggerated sense of his own honor; it is a
heritage he has received from his Spanish ancestors far back.

“Si, senors,” he answered back, in a mellow tone, “I understand.
Come closer that we may talk it over. I promise you I will not fire
one shot. Carramba! it is only one that I have left me, after all
you saw.”

Then they advanced until close by where the two dead ponies lay. One
thought was in the minds of both Frank and his cousin—the little
girl, how had she fared while all the bullets were flying through
the air, sent by half-drunken Indians who cared little where they
landed.

Jose had suffered. His left arm hung almost helplessly at his side,
and they could see that the blood was dripping from his fingers; but
he clutched his repeating gun in the right hand and seemed still
full of the lust of battle.

“How about the child; is she safe?” called Frank almost afraid to
ask the question, for his heart seemed in his throat with the
dreadful suspense.

“Surely, senors,” came the immediate reassuring reply. “I saw to it
that she lay flat on the ground where nothing could injure her. Look
and see for yourselves,” and with that he spoke something to little
Becky, so that she immediately sprang to her feet and stretched her
tiny hands longingly toward the boys.

At that both of them experienced a deep sense of relief. It began to
look, if only Jose proved reasonable, that the end of their long and
arduous air chase was now in sight, and that presently they could
proceed back to the ranch, bearing with them the little sprite whose
abduction had created all this excitement.

“We would make terms with you, Jose,” said Frank in a business like
way.

“I am ready to hear what you have to say, young senor,” came the
reply.

“You admit that our coming has probably saved your life?” Frank went
on, thinking it the part of wisdom to have that point well
understood in the beginning.

“Si, senor, it is true, and for that Jose is grateful; if it had not
been so he would not consent to give up the child, even if you tried
to recover her by force. But you have done me a good turn, and
perhaps we can make terms. If, then, I hand her over, will you agree
that I go my way unmolested?”

“We willingly agree to that, Jose. You may be a bad man, but we saw
you stand off those Indians like a brave one, and for that we
respect you. Yes, we will promise not to raise a hand to molest you.
Listen Jose, if you place the little girl in our hands we will
promise to do even more than that, if so be you are courageous
enough to trust yourself with us in our aeroplane. We could rise
with you, and fly far away across the desert to where you will be
near the border. There we can land, and give you a chance to save
yourself from these Indians, who may hang around here, seeking
revenge for the wounds you have given them.”

That was a square offer on the part of Frank. Andy held his breath,
wondering if the other would dare accept it. The same courage that
had led Jose to face the guns of the Indians might not be sufficient
to allow of his getting aboard that wonderful air bird, and let
himself be carried up among the clouds.

Jose was hesitating between opinions. He hardly knew which seemed
the worse of the two. But one danger he could understand, while the
other was along the line of the mysterious and unfathomable.

They saw him pondering for a full minute. Then, as if he had made up
his mind, he threw up his hand.

“I will accept your offer, senor,” he said. “A man can die but once,
and what matter if he fall from the clouds, he may never know what
hurts him. And if I am left here without a mount, the Indians are
sure to get me. Advance, then, senors, and fix it as you please. I
am ready to take the word of such honorable young men.”

But all the same Andy could see that he shuddered when he cast a
glance over toward the quarter where the stranded biplane lay, as
though the mere thought of allowing himself to be carried up in the
regions of the upper currents aboard that frail combination of
engine, planes, and rigid uprights and stays, struck Jose as with a
cold breath from the Arctic regions.


CHAPTER XXIII—HOME AGAIN—CONCLUSION

Frank knew that they had better not loiter there. Still, he could
not see Jose losing blood like that, when it was so easy to stop the
flow.

So, while Andy watched to see that none of the frightened Indians
got over their scare, and came sneaking back, bent on potting some
of the palefaces, Frank made a quick job of looking after the
wounded arm of the Mexican.

The man seemed to hardly know what to make of it all. He watched
every move of the amateur doctor as though he could not understand
how any one would be so generous toward an enemy. But Frank knew
what he was doing, and he meant to extract a promise from Jose,
before they left him, that never again would he dream of trying to
do any injury toward either little Becky or Mr. Witherspoon, her
relative, and legally appointed guardian. And he believed the man
would keep such a promise faithfully too; for Frank was a pretty
good reader of human nature.

Then they all walked toward the aeroplane that lay there on the hot
sand as a camel of the desert might for its Arab owner, prostrate
for his mounting.

It was easy enough to fasten little Becky in; but with the man there
had to be some maneuvering, because a sudden movement on his part
would endanger them all. Jose drew a long breath as he took his
seat, and held grimly onto an upright with his one well hand, his
rifle strapped to his back meanwhile. It was as though he hardly
expected to ever come safely down again; but then he had carefully
counted the cost, and having decided his pride would not allow him
to back out.

Frank knew that it would be a very difficult task to get the biplane
to travel over the sand at a rate of speed sufficient to allow of
their mounting when the proper moment came; but he had experimented
so many times, looking to some such contingency, that he believed he
could surmount every trouble.

He therefore moved the aeroplane with the help of the others, so
that he would have the assistance of the slight wind that was
blowing.

Finally all was ready.

The motor began to hum, gradually increasing its note as Frank
turned on more power, on finding that his hopes were about to be
fulfilled. Yes, they were actually passing along over the sand now;
for just there it was packed more than in most places. Andy had held
his breath with the suspense, figuring on how he could climb back if
he had to go overboard to help push. But it was all right now, and
such a move would not be necessary.

When the final moment arrived, they started gradually upward. Frank
heard Jose gasp for breath, and he knew the Mexican must be saying
his prayers from the low mumble that drifted in at his ear;
doubtless the man was almost stiff with fright when he dared look
down, and saw that he was apparently as far above the surface of the
desert as many mountain peaks would be.

Frank knew what he was doing, and that if the man was left on the
desert in his present wounded and weakened condition, it was just
the same as giving him over to death, which might come in any one of
several ways. If the Indians did not get him he might starve or die
from lack of water; and then again, should the infuriated cow
puncher band from the Double X Ranch come upon Jose he might count
on a short shrift and a rope.

After all was said and done, fortune had been so kind that no
irreparable damage had followed the bold raid of Jose, unless indeed
poor old Tige had received a dose of poison as the boys had feared.
Little Becky seemed to have come through it all in very good shape,
and for these mercies Frank felt that they had great reason to be
thankful.

And that was mainly why he was now carrying Jose across the balance
of the desert to place him on the road to the near-by border, beyond
which he undoubtedly had friends who would take care of him.

Andy had not forgotten the Indians, and was constantly on the
lookout for any signs of them. Whenever he did sight a skulking
figure Andy made haste to squeeze the rubber that caused the siren
to give tongue. Jose nearly lost his hold the first time he heard
that fierce whoop so close to his ear; for of course in his nervous
condition he thought that something had burst, and that they were
now bound to go tumbling down through all that space to be splashed
about below.

But that lasted for only a very brief time, since they speedily
reached a point far beyond where any of the fleeing Indians had
gone. After that it was plain sailing and they made rapid speed.

Then, after they had covered many miles in this fashion, with the
glasses Andy was able to make out trees ahead, and some sort of
ridge that doubtless marked the delimitation of the desert’s border.

Nearer and nearer they drew. Jose began to actually consider that he
still had something of a chance to live through it all; though the
balance of his life he would certainly never be apt to forget what
dreadful fears had held him gripped fast in their power when up in a
fast-flying aeroplane.

Now the keen-eyed pilot was looking for a likely place to land, and
this he discovered close to the trees themselves, where the ground
became much firmer, and Jose could immediately get under shelter
from the broiling sun.

After coming down from that cool altitude the tremendous heat of the
desert was almost overpowering, and both boys were glad to know that
they did not have to continue on through it for any great length of
time.

So Jose was finally landed. He seemed to be rejoiced to find himself
once more on solid ground. True, he would always boast of having
been up almost to the clouds, but it is unlikely that any ordinary
attraction could tempt him to try it again.

He shook hands with each of the boys when they were ready to once
more venture into unknown space with the aeroplane. Andy was a
little dubious about accepting that hand, which he felt pretty sure
had not always been free from crime; but then Frank had done it, and
he felt that he could not do better than imitate his cousin in such
matters.

They had no particular trouble about the new launching; indeed, now
that the biplane was free from the weight of Jose, it seemed to
mount upward like a bird that has broken loose from its cage.

The last they saw of the Mexican he was waving a hand after them.
And Frank felt well satisfied with the morning’s work. He believed
that not only had they succeeded in rescuing the little girl, but
that fortune had allowed them to give a bad man a chance to open his
eyes. It might be the means of turning Jose Sandero from his evil
ways; and then again the incident was liable to be swallowed up by
the demands of his hard life. And probably they would never know.

Once again they were flying boldly across the wide stretch of
desert, with its lonely looking cactus plants, and its queer
windrows of sand that looked for all the world as though a giant
comb had been drawn over the land, leaving it in this peculiar
condition. When, finally, they reached the northern end of the
desert, and headed direct for the ranch house, possibly both of the
Bird boys were feeling happier that ever before in all their lives.
They had accomplished what seemed next door to a miracle, because,
had the men in “chaps” chased after Jose, and threatened to take
him, there could be no telling what the desperate Mexican might not
have done rather than submit.

“Look there, Frank,” Andy was saying a little later, “you can see
the ranch house as plain as anything from here, and why, if that
ain’t the boys coming on the tear over yonder!”

Frank, looking, saw that his chum spoke the truth. There could be
seen a confused medley of boys and horses. They were whipping their
mounts madly, and using both hats and quirts to try and increase
their speed.

“That must be Charley Woo among the front ones,” Frank remarked,
after he had taken a second good look.

“Yes, you can tell him miles off by his white clothes,” Andy went on
to say, “and he’s done himself proud, has Charley, this day. Uncle
must be there alongside, and asking more questions, as he tried to
get a little more speed out of his mount. And I reckon they’ve
glimpsed us, Frank, by the way they act. Are we going to land and
let them see that Little Sunbeam is safe with us?”

“It would be cruelty to animals not to,” replied the pilot, as he
started to head gradually toward the earth.

Ten minutes later, and they were surrounded by an eager, excited
throng, and when Buckskin, Shorty, and all that lot learned that
little Becky had not suffered to any serious extent as a result of
her terribly long and wearisome ride, bound on a pony as she had
been, they “awoke all creation,” as Andy declared, with their
exultant whoops.

Nothing would do but that the boys must tell the whole story; and
those wild riders fairly held their breath as they listened to the
modest account of that most remarkable dash through space, to arrive
just in the nick of time—Frank called it the psychological moment,
and then had to stop and explain just what he meant by that, before
they would let him proceed.

It was the greatest story they had ever heard. They would never have
believed such a thing possible, only that they knew Frank and Andy
never told yarns, or even stretched a fish story. Besides, there was
little Becky ready to corroborate all that had been said. Mr.
Witherspoon insisted upon taking the child on his horse, and thus
heading for the ranch, while the boys continued their flight; of
course they would arrive at their destination an hour before the
ponies could make it, and thus relieve the minds of those who were
there.

The round-up was all off for the present. Later on they could make
another start, and this time the boys would be along, to witness all
that was done, with Andy taking pictures of the various phases of
the operation, as long as his roll of films lasted.

But Mr. Witherspoon had learned a lesson, and never again would he
leave home without a sufficient guard remaining there at the ranch
house to handle any situation that might arise.

He took some of Frank’s philosophy, to the effect that he would
always after that be prepared for possibilities, since lightning can
at times apparently strike out of a clear sky.

The boys’ time on the ranch was now getting toward a close; but
before they left they had one pleasant surprise that made them feel
happy. It was just on the little maid’s sixth birthday that a tired
Mexican came to the place and asked to see Mr. Witherspoon.

It happened that both boys were with him, and remembering their
recent adventure in connection with one such greaser, they eyed the
dusty traveler with more or less curiosity. He handed Mr.
Witherspoon a packet which he said his master, who was a ranchero
down in Chihuahua, Mexico, had ordered him to get there before dark
on this particular day.

Opening the packet the ranchman disclosed some beautiful silken
garments such as would be apt to set a little girl wild with
delight, and also a lovely slender gold necklace with pearls as its
ornaments.

When he had glanced at the paper that had come with this gift Mr.
Witherspoon smiled, and looked meaningly at the boys.

“Well, all I can say is, that you two boys are next door to wizards.
You’ve actually made an impression on a heart that I calculated was
as hard as flint. Here are some presents for our little girl,” and
on the paper I read in Spanish: “To the little Senorita Rebecca from
her unworthy father, on her sixth birthday. May the good God bless
her.”

And neither of the boys so much as smiled, for they felt that in
some fashion that merciful act of Frank’s in treating Jose Sandero
so generously had borne such fruit as no one would ever have
believed possible.

When the time came for them to say goodbye to Uncle Jethro and the
jolly boys on the Double X Ranch, it was hard to do it. And neither
Frank nor Andy would ever forget the rousing cheers that burst from
the lips of those happy-go-lucky punchers, Buckskin, Waldo Kline,
Shorty, Alkali Joe and the rest, not forgetting even Charley Woo,
when they saw the last of them at the station.

Of course Frank and Andy reached their home town in safety, and in
due time the biplane once more rested in its accustomed hangar back
of Frank Bird’s home; with the first snow of winter covering the
ground, and a frosty tang in the air that was just the opposite of
that torrid wave the Bird boys struck when crossing the Arizona
desert.

And it is to be hoped that we will have the pleasure of recounting
further thrilling adventures that befell these intrepid air pilots
in other volumes to succeed this. Meanwhile, having seen them safely
through experiences at the cattle ranch, and once more back home
before the delayed session of school opened, it only remains for us
to say goodbye to the reader and write—

                               THE END.