Kitabı oku: «The Flying Machine Boys on Secret Service», sayfa 9
CHAPTER XVII.
CARL GETS INTO TROUBLE
The sun shone warm on the planes of the Louise as Jimmie and Carl sailed over the broken country to the west of the camp. They passed a ridge so high that the timber line broke a couple of hundred feet below the summit, and then dropped, shivering, into a depression wider but not so green as the one in which their tents stood.
The boys were taking their time, and, in the low altitude of the valley, conversation was possible as they moved along, looking to right and left for some sign of a camp.
“The Englishman’s friends ought not to be much farther away,” suggested Carl, after an hour. “We are at least fifteen miles from our tents already.”
“Yes,” agreed Jimmie, “the ridge we crossed takes up a good deal of room. If they are not in this wrinkle, they may be in the next one.”
“Wrinkle is exactly the word,” Carl grinned. “This country looks as if some one had taken a level plain and crowded it together until the surface broke into seams and crags. It makes me think of the undulating surface of an old boot!”
The boys traversed the valley from north to south but saw no indications of tents or camp-fires. The ridge to the west ran out at the north end of the valley, and the boys turned there, preferring not to ascend into the cold air again unless it became necessary.
The valley in which they now found themselves ran in a northeasterly direction and broke into a canyon at the end farthest to the east and north. The boys turned as they swung around the point of rock and whirled along the new depression. Presently Carl caught his chum by the arm and handed him the field-glass with which he had been looking over the country. Jimmie used the glass for a moment and then turned back to Carl with a pleased look on his freckled face.
“You know what that is, don’t you?” he asked.
“Sure!” Carl answered.
“That’s the north end of our own valley, we see,” Jimmie went on, “and the shelf we have just come in sight of is the one from which the red and green signals were shown night before last.”
“That’s right!” grinned Carl.
“Then, don’t you see,” Jimmie went on, “the signals were made for the benefit of some one in this valley.”
“That’s the idea!” Carl chuckled.
“Now, suppose we find the tent the Englishman left in this vicinity,” the boy went on, “what would that mean?”
“It would suggest to me,” Carl replied, “that the signals were made for the benefit of some one in that camp.”
“Right-o!” replied Jimmie.
“But where is this blooming camp?” Carl asked.
“We’ll find it here somewhere!” Jimmie answered, confidently.
Directly the boys came to a canyon which opened at the west of the valley and led to a grassy plateau higher up. At some distant time the place now occupied by the plateau had doubtless been an enlargement and extension of the canyon. However, as the years passed, the rocks had crumbled under the action of water until the great dent had become filled.
One look to the left as the boys moved slowly past the mouth of the canyon was sufficient. A fire was blazing high in the center of the plateau and half a dozen tents were scattered about. On every side the walls of rock came down to the green grass which lay like a carpet over the floor of the plateau.
Here and there the boys saw dark openings in the walls, similar to the one they had observed at the smugglers’ camp.
“Those old rocks,” Jimmie commented, “are honeycombed with caves, and it’s a hundred to one that those hunters are obliged to keep things moving nights in order to drive away wild animals.”
“From all accounts,” Carl agreed, “wild animals don’t stand much show with that bunch!”
“Of course, they’ve seen us,” Jimmie observed as the aeroplane shot by the canyon and the tents were no longer in sight. “If they’re not asleep they know we’re here. Now, what’s the best thing to do?”
“Walk right along just like we never noticed them!” replied Carl.
“Perhaps,” Jimmie suggested, “they’re looking for an aeroplane to put in an appearance.”
“Do you mean to say that they knew something of the machine that was wrecked over to the south last night?”
“That’s what!” replied Jimmie.
“I don’t believe it!” Carl answered. “That supposition connects the San Francisco hunters with the Kuro gang, and I can’t believe that to be a fact!”
“How far do you suppose that canyon is from our camp?” asked Jimmie.
“Probably twenty miles!” suggested Carl.
“That’s a good guess,” Jimmie agreed. “Now, look here,” he went on, “if you think I’m going back to camp and leave the machine and then hike twenty miles to investigate that camp, you’ve got another think coming!”
“That’s what you promised to do!”
“Not on your life!” replied Jimmie. “That’s what Havens told me to do! But then, you know,” he added with a laugh, “Havens had no idea at the time he gave the advice that we’d find the camp so far away. He probably thought we’d run across it within easy walking distance of our own tents. Isn’t that the way you look at it?”
“Sure!” replied Carl, glad of any excuse for landing.
“Then, I’ll tell you what we’ll do!” Jimmie argued. “We’ll fly straight over the ridge under which the camp nestles, slow down gradually, so our motors will sound like they were getting farther away every moment, and then land. We ought to be able to climb back to the top of the ridge in a few minutes and look down into the camp.”
“Aw, what’s the good of just looking down into it?” demanded Carl. “We ought to get near enough so we can see and hear what’s going on!”
“I don’t care how near we get to it!” grinned Jimmie.
The plan suggested by the boy, reckless as it was, was carried out. The Louise found a resting-place to the west of the ridge and the boys sat down to consider future movements.
“Honest, now,” Jimmie said, looking up at the fairly easy slope which led to the summit lying between the aeroplane and the camp, “one of us ought to stay by the machine!”
“All right!” Carl agreed. “You remain here and I’ll hike down and see what I can find out. But, look here,” the lad continued, “you mustn’t go prowling around! You mustn’t leave the machine! I may come back on the jump, and want to get into the air in about a quarter of a second!”
“Huh!” grinned Jimmie. “You went off and left the machine when you were on guard near the smugglers’ camp. I wouldn’t talk about prowling around, if I were you!”
“This is different!” urged Carl. “When I left the machine then I didn’t know that there were a lot of mountain brigands ready to grab it.”
“All right!” Jimmie acquiesced. “I’ll stay here by the machine for an hour. If you don’t come back by that time, I’ll come after you.”
“Yes, you’ll come after me!” cried Carl. “You’d better stay where you are! How would you know where to look for me in that mess over on the other side?”
“If you don’t come back in an hour,” repeated Jimmie, “I’ll come after you! In an hour it will be time to leave for home.”
Carl went away up the slope, climbing swiftly, and soon disappeared from view. Jimmie threw himself down on the ground close to the framework of the Louise, in a measure protected from view by the planes.
“Gee!” mused the boy. “It’s lonesome, waiting like this. Next time we go out on a scouting expedition, we’ll bring some one along to stand guard. This waiting makes me tired.”
But the period of waiting was destined to be a short one. Hardly had Carl disappeared over the summit of the ridge when three figures appeared there, sharply outlined against the sky. Jimmie crawled closer under the planes and lay perfectly still for some moments.
He saw the men pointing toward the aeroplane, heard them shouting to some one on the other side. Then they came on down the slope, half-running, half-sliding in their haste.
“Now, that’s a nice thing!” the boy mused. “They are probably wise to what we were up to, and stood ready to make a run as soon as we landed. I wish I knew whether Carl butted into them or whether he got away.”
All doubt regarding the matter was settled the next moment, for Carl appeared on the summit, accompanied by three husky-looking men. The men beckoned to Jimmie and called out to those who were running down the slope. It was clear that they were inviting him to remain where he was until the others came up.
Jimmie could not see the face of his chum, of course, the distance being too great. In fact, he only knew that it was Carl because of his being smaller than the others. He could, however, distinguish motions made by the boy, and these motions commanded him, as plainly as words could have done, to get the Louise away before the arrival of the men who were descending the slope.
Unwilling to leave his chum without knowing more of the situation, Jimmie hesitated. As he did so, he saw Carl drawn violently over the ridge. The last movement he saw was made by the boy’s outstretched arms, commanding him to take the Louise into the air as soon as possible!
He hesitated no longer but sprang to the seat and set the motors in motion. The machine lifted clumsily, for the landing had not been a smooth one, but finally got her into the air, not more than a score of feet distant from the men who were rushing down upon her.
The boy anticipated a serious time in getting away, but, although the men below flourished revolvers threateningly, no bullets were fired. He brought the machine around to the east in a moment and swept over the heads of the men below. The group remained at the summit as he passed over, swinging down over the camp.
There was naturally great excitement below, and the boy would have enjoyed the situation immensely if he had been sure of the safety of his chum. The occupants of the camp rushed out of their tents and threw their hands and voices into the air as he moved along, only a few yards above their heads. Again weapons were displayed but no shots came.
The boy circled the camp twice, but was unable to catch sight of Carl. Realizing that the boy had undoubtedly been taken to one of the tents, he turned the machine down the gorge to the valley and swept straight on toward the shelf of rock from which the red and green signals had been shown on the first night of their arrival in that vicinity.
By keeping to this route he was not obliged to ascend to the summit in order to leave the valley where the hunters’ camp was situated. When he came closer to the shelf of rock where the signal fire had burned, he saw three men standing in plain view.
“I reckon the whole population of British Columbia is centering in these hills,” the boy mused. “There must have been a dozen or more people in the hunters’ camp when I passed over it not long ago, and now here’s three more probably belonging to the same crowd.”
When the boy came within a few paces of the rock he whirled away to the south, not caring to seek a landing on the other side of the snowy ridge. As the machine lifted he saw two more men in the gorge or canyon which led from the summit down to the shelf.
“If the men who abducted Colleton and brought him into this country sought a location filled with peace and solitude, they will probably get out of it at the earliest moment,” Jimmie mused.
As the boy turned on full speed in the direction of his camp he caught sight of an object which caused him to hesitate and then set out in a circling tour of the valley.
What he saw was the plane of a flying machine lifting above the top of the ridge to the east.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS
When Carl reached the top of the slope lying between the spot where the Louise had landed and the camp occupied by the hunters, he found himself confronted by two men who were climbing up from the tents below.
The men addressed him civilly, asking about the aeroplane which had just passed over the camp, and suggesting that the two boys join them at dinner. They were well-dressed, pleasant-appearing fellows, evidently products of city life.
“I don’t think we can accept of your hospitality to-night,” the boy answered, “because we can’t both leave the machine at the same time. And besides,” he went on, “it will soon be sundown, and we ought to be getting back to our friends.”
“Why, we’ll send a man over to watch the machine,” one of the hunters argued. “Or, better still,” he continued, “you can bring the machine right into the camp. So far as I’m concerned, I wish your friends were with you. New faces are always welcome in a mountain camp.”
Seeing how insistent the men were, Carl determined to bring the interview to a close immediately, and turned back up the westward slope which he had started to descend.
“Just thought we’d call for a minute,” he said. “If you don’t mind, we’ll come over early in the day before long and have a good visit.”
The two men who were now joined by a third followed the lad back to the summit arguing all the way that he ought not to take his departure so soon. When the Louise came into view they began beckoning and calling to Jimmie, as the reader already knows, and also shouting to those in the camp below.
“Tell your friend to come on up!” argued one of the men. “You may as well cross the ridge at this point as farther up. We’d like to have a look at your machine. Besides, you really must have a cup of coffee with us before you go away. We can’t lose our guests so soon.”
During this conversation the men had been beckoning to Jimmie, inviting him by gestures to bring his machine to camp. Seeing that the men were not inclined to let him depart at that time, the boy began signaling to Jimmie to get away in the Louise before the men got to her.
“Here, kid!” shouted the man who had been doing most of the talking, “don’t do that. He’ll think you want him to go away and leave you here.”
“I want him to get the machine away all right!” Carl answered.
“You’re an obstinate little rascal!” replied the man. “Here, Bob,” he added, turning to one of the others, “take this kid down to the camp and keep him there until I return.”
It was at this point that the men came chasing down the slope and Jimmie got away in the machine. Carl saw the aeroplane gliding over the camp with a great deal of satisfaction. He had been forced into one of the tents near the great fire, but could see the airship distinctly through the opening in front. Directly the man he had talked with on the summit entered the tent and sat down by the boy’s side.
“My name is Frank Harris,” he said abruptly, “what’s yours?”
“Carl Nichols,” the boy replied, with a grin which brought a smile to the other’s face. “What do you want to know that for?”
“Where are you from?” was the next question.
“The Big Puddle,” replied Carl.
“Meaning New York?”
“Sure,” answered Carl, “there’s only one big puddle in the world.”
“What became of the flying machine you boys were chasing the other night?” asked Harris after a moment’s reflection.
“She dropped into a hole in the air and the aviator was killed,” replied the boy gravely.
Harris sprang to his feet with a muffled oath and paced up and down in front of the tent for some time without speaking. When he returned to the boy’s side his face wore an expression blended between suspicion and dismay. Carl remained silent until the man spoke again.
“Is that right?” Harris asked. “Are you telling me the truth?”
“Sure, I’m telling you the truth!” replied the boy. “The aviator fell into a hole in the air and didn’t know how to get out of it. We made a shallow grave and piled about a ton of rock on top of it. If you want to get the body we’ll show you where it is any time.”
“Do you know,” Harris began rather angrily, “I hardly believe this story about the man falling into a hole in the air! Are you sure he didn’t come to his death as the result of a conflict with some member of your party?”
“You don’t think we murdered him, do you?” demanded Carl.
“Oh, I didn’t say that!” Harris hastened to say. “I only want you to understand that the matter isn’t yet settled in my mind. What about the machine which you say was wrecked?”
“So far as I know,” answered the boy, “it still lies where it fell, and just as it fell, except that we removed some guy wires to strengthen our own machine. I don’t think the motors can be used again. We used the canvas of the planes for a winding sheet, and brought away the gasoline.”
“We’ll get the poor fellow out to-morrow!” Harris promised, “and send the body east to his friends.”
“You knew him, then?” asked Carl.
Harris hesitated, colored a trifle, and began a busy pacing of the ground in front of the tent again.
“I reckon he sees that he’s made a mistake in claiming any knowledge of that fellow!” the boy mused with a quiet chuckle.
“What was it you asked?” inquired Harris, pausing in front of the tent. “Oh, I remember,” he went on, “you wanted to know if we knew this aviator who was killed in the race with you.”
“Why, yes,” Carl replied. “You seemed to know where he lived and who his friends were. I thought perhaps you might know all about him.”
“We know nothing whatever about him!” replied Harris, rather angrily. “He landed at our camp the day before the accident and visited with us a long time. He seemed to be a very pleasant and intelligent man. So far as his friends are concerned, we know nothing about them. When I remarked that we would forward the body, I did so under the supposition that papers in his possession would inform us as to his name and residence.”
“I see,” replied Carl with a knowing smile which the other was not slow in understanding. “How did you people come to know about the race?”
“Why, one of our men was up on the summit when the race began and saw the aeroplanes flying south. We know nothing further than that!”
“I’m sorry for what took place,” Carl said, “but the man was sailing over our camp in a suspicious manner, and we thought we’d find out what he wanted. As a matter of fact, he needn’t have run away when our machine took after him. There was no need of that.”
The fact was, as the reader well understands, that the dead aviator had not been circling the boys’ camp at all. The race, as Carl well knew, had started in the vicinity of the smugglers’ cave where the Louise had taken up the chase. The boy made the above statement half expecting that Harris would contradict him, and so show some further knowledge of the race and the man who had been killed.
Harris looked suspiciously at the boy for a moment, half-opening his lips to speak, but finally decided to remain silent.
“There’s another thing I want to ask you about,” he went on after a moment. “You have a young Englishman named DuBois in your camp.”
“How did you know that?” asked Carl.
“Why,” was the rather embarrassed reply, “our boys are traveling over the country in search of game, and we naturally know what’s going on around us! Besides, we know something about that Englishman. When he left us, we had a notion that he would go to some nearby camp.”
“If he tells the truth,” Carl replied, “our camp hadn’t been pitched when he left yours.”
“It is my impression,” Harris answered, “that DuBois reached your camp on the evening of the day he left ours. Did he have a valuable looking burro with him when he came to you?”
“He was on foot,” replied Carl, “and we saw nothing of anything like a burro. He appeared to be completely exhausted with walking.”
“That was a bit of acting on his part! When he left us he took with him a burro worth at least two hundred dollars. Large sums of money also disappeared from the tents that same morning. The boys learned to-day that he was at your camp and they’re going over to get him.”
“Will they take him to prison?” asked Carl wonderingly.
“I’m afraid not!” was the significant reply.
“What then?”
“Justice is mighty slow and terribly uncertain in this country,” Harris answered. “In fact,” he continued, “there’s only one judge who tries cases to the liking of the people.”
“You mean Judge Lynch!” suggested Carl.
“That’s his name,” laughed Harris heartlessly.
“You don’t mean to say that they’d lynch DuBois without giving him a hearing?” demanded the boy.
“I’m afraid they would!” was the reply.
“You don’t approve of such outrages, do you?”
“Certainly not!”
“Then, why don’t you send some one over to the camp to warn DuBois? Or send an officer who might take him to Field and turn him over to the law? That would be the right thing to do!”
“I’ve been thinking of doing that!” replied Harris. “I wish your friend had remained with the machine. Then we could have sent an officer over to-night.”
“He might have remained if you people hadn’t made such a rush for him!” laughed Carl. “You frightened him away.”
“You’re a pair of bright boys!” laughed Harris. “I wish I could find a young fellow just like you to put into my Wall street office. If you showed the same courage and resourcefulness there that you do in the mountains, you’d be apt to make the money-kings sit up and take notice in a few years. Such young men are needed in New York!”
“I don’t think I’d care to enter on a Wall street career,” Carl replied, not at all deceived by the gilded bait so cunningly extended.
“Think it over,” continued Harris. “You may change your mind after you leave the mountains. It’s a fine opening for you!”
The lad promised to consider the proposition seriously, and Harris went away. He returned in a few moments with a bountiful supper, which he shared with the boy. All through the meal he continued his questions regarding the race, the Englishman, and the purpose of the boys in visiting that section of British Columbia.
Carl answered the questions truthfully whenever he could. He understood, however, that the attitude of the man who seemed to be so friendly was absolutely hostile. After supper Harris went away and Carl sat in the door of the tent watching for the return of the flying machine. He rather expected that Jimmie would return with one of the boys in order to find out the exact situation.
The tent in which he had been placed faced the south and was directly in front of the fire. As darkness fell he saw members of the party gathering about the blaze with tin cans in their hands.
“Now,” he mused, “I wonder what they’re going to do. Looks like they might about to warm up lobster or canned roast beef for supper.”
When it became quite dark in the valley the boy was amazed at seeing one of the men pour a powder from one of the cans into a long-handled shovel and drop it from there into the fire. The blaze flared up as red as a police danger-signal.
Carl came nearer to the flap of the tent and looked out to the north and east. Greatly to his astonishment he saw a green flame on the shelf of rock which cut the mountainside at the foot of the canyon in which lay the smugglers’ cave.
When the red light in front of his tent died down it was succeeded by a green flame. A glance at the distant shelf at that instant revealed a red one. The boy drew back into the tent with a soft chuckle.
“I guess we didn’t dope it out correctly when we figured that the signals on the shelf were not intended entirely for whiskey smugglers,” he said. “It seems to me that these hunters who talked about Wall street and money-kings are pretty thick with the outlaws!”
