The Boy Aviators in Record Flight; Or, The Rival Aeroplane

The old plainsman waited till he got right up to the group before he spoke, and then it was in a hushed tense whisper.

“Injuns,” he said, “they’re up on the hillside.”

“How many?” whispered back Frank.

“I dunno exactly, after that there bullet I didn’t wait ter see, and say, boys, I had ter leave as nice a string of trout as you ever see up there fer them pesky redskins ter git at.”

“Never mind the fish, Bart,” urged Frank, “tell us, is there danger?”

“There’s allus danger when Injuns is aroun’, and think they kin git somethin’ that’s vallerble without gitting in trouble over it,” was the westerner’s reply.

“We’d better get away from here right away,” exclaimed Harry.

“Not on your life, son,” was Bart’s reply; “not if I know anything about Injuns an’ their ways. No, sons, my advice is ter git riddy fer ’em. They was startled when they see me, therefore they didn’t know we wus here till they stumbled on me. That bein’ the case, I reckin they don’t know about that thar flying thing of you boys.”

“And you think we can scare them with it?” began Frank eagerly.

“Not so fast, son, not so fast,” reprimanded the old man. “Now, them Injuns won’t attack afore dark, if they do at all. An’ when they do, they’ll come frum up the mountain-side. Now, my idee is to git that thar searchlight o’ yours rigged up, and hev it handy, so as when we hear a twig crack we kin switch it on and pick ’em out at our leisure.”

“That’s a fine idea, Bart, but what if they attack us from behind?” suggested Frank.

“They won’t do that. Yer see, behind us it’s all open country. Wall, Injuns like plenty of cover when they fight.”

“Perhaps we could connect up some blue flares, and plant them on rocks up the hillside, and scare them that way,” suggested Billy.

“That’s a good idee, son, but who’s goin’ ter go up there an’ light ’em? It would be certain death.”

“Nobody would have to go up and light them,” eagerly put in Harry. “We can wire them up and then just touch them off when we are ready. We can get plenty of spark by connecting up all our batteries.”

“Wall, now, that’s fine and dandy,” exclaimed the miner admiringly, “see what it is ter hev an eddercation. Wall, boys, if we’re goin’ ter do that, now’s the time. Them Injuns won’t attack afore dark, and if we want ter git ready we’d better do it now.”

While Frank and Harry planted the blue flares on rocks on the hillside within easy range of the camp, and old Mr. Joyce utilized his electrical skill in wiring them up and connecting them to a common switch, Billy and Lathrop and Bart Witherbee struck camp and packed the paraphernalia in the tonneau of the auto.

“Better be ready ter make a quick gitaway,” was the miner’s recommendation.

These tasks completed, there was nothing to do but to wait for a sign of the attack. This was nervous work. Bart had informed the boys that in his opinion the Indians were a band from a reservation not many miles from there who had somehow got hold of a lot of “firewater” and had “got bad.”

“I’ll bet yer there’s troops after ’em now, if we did but know it,” he opined.

“Well, I wish the troops would get here quick,” bemoaned Harry.

“They won’t git here in time ter be of much use ter us,” remarked old Bart, grimly biting off a big chew of tobacco, “and now, boys, keep quiet, and mind, don’t fire till I tell yer, and don’t switch on them lights till I give you the word.”

How long they waited neither Frank nor Harry nor any of the others could ever tell, but it seemed to be years before there came a sudden owl hoot far up on the hillside.

“Here they come, that’s their signal,” whispered old Bart in Frank’s ear; “steady now.”

“I’m all right,” replied Frank, as calmly as he could, though his heart beat wildly.

The hoot was answered by another one, and then all was silence.

Suddenly there came the crack of a twig somewhere above. It was only a mite of a noise, but in the stillness it sounded as startling as a pistol shot.

“We won’t have to wait long now,” commented Bart in a tense undertone; “all ready, now.”

Each of the boys gripped his rifle determinedly. Old Mr. Joyce had been armed with a pistol. At their elbows lay their magazine revolvers fully loaded.

Following the first snapping of the twig there was a long interval of silence. Then the staccato rattle of a small dislodged rock bounding down the hillside set all hearts to beating once more.

The attack was evidently not to be delayed many moments now.

It came with the suddenness of the bursting of a tropical storm.

Hardly had the boys drawn their breath following the breathless suspense that ensued on the falling of the rock before there was a wild yell, and half a dozen dark forms burst out of the trees. They were received with a fusillade, but none of them were hurt, as they all vanished almost as quickly as they had appeared.

“That was just to see if we was on the lookout,” said old Bart in a whisper. “I reckon they found we was. Look out for the next attack.”

They hadn’t long to wait. There was a rattle of falling stones as the main body rushed down the hillside.

“Now!”

Old Bart fairly screamed the command in his excitement.

At the same instant Billy shoved over the switch that connected the sparking wires of the blue-flare battery with the electric supply for the wireless, and the whole woodland was instantly illumined as if by the most brilliant moonlight.

With cries and yells of amazement, a score of the attacking redskins wheeled and vanished into the dark shadows of the hillside. The lights glared up, brilliantly illuminating everything in the vicinity, but the Indians were far too scared to come out of their hiding-place and renew the attack.

“Fire a volley up the hillside,” ordered Bart. “We can’t hit any of ’em, but it will add to their scare and keep ’em off till I can work out a plan.”

There was a rattling discharge of shots, which met with no return, and then, as the lights began to burn dimly Bart ordered Frank and Harry to get into the aeroplane and sail into the air.

“Turn your searchlight on the wood from up above, and they’ll run from here to San Franciskey,” he declared.

Though rather dubious of the success of the experiment, the boys obeyed, and in a few seconds the roaring drone of the engine was heard far above the wood, while the great eye of the searchlight seemed to penetrate into its darkest depths.

If the boys had had any doubt as to the feasibility of Bart’s recipe for scaring Indians they regained their faith then and there. With yells that echoed into the night, the redskins ran for their lives, tumbling over each other in their hurry to escape the “Air Devil.”

What the blue lights had begun the aeroplane had completed.

“It’s goin’ ter take a year ter round them fellers up ag’in,” commented Bart.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE AUTO IN DIFFICULTIES

As Bart had expected, the boys were troubled no more that night, although there was naturally little enough sleep for any one. It was soon after daybreak and they were at breakfast when, across the plain, at the foot of the spur on which they were encamped, the boys saw a detachment of horsemen riding rapidly toward them. Through the glasses the boys speedily made them out as United States cavalrymen. They were advancing at a smart trot, and soon reached the boys’ camp.

“Good-morning,” said the officer at their head, “you seem to be breakfasting quietly enough, but you might not be taking it so easy if I were to tell you that several Indians have gone off the reservation and have managed to secure enough bad whiskey to make them very dangerous.”