The Flying Machine Boys in the Wilds

With a chorus of savage yells still ringing in their ears, the boys leaped into their seats, still swinging their searchlights frantically as their only means of protection, and pressed the starters. The machines ran ahead smoothly for an instant then lifted.

The next minute there was absolute silence below. The boys were certain that if they could have looked down upon the savages who had been so threatening a moment before they would have seen them on their knees with their faces pressed to the ground.

“They’ll talk about this night for a thousand years!” Jimmie screamed in Ben’s ear as the Louise swept into and through a stratum of cloud. “They’ll send it down to future generations in legends of magic.”

“Little do we care what they think of us after we get out of their clutches!” Ben called back. “It seems like a miracle, our getting away at all!”

“Do you really think they are head-hunters?” shouted Jimmie.

“You saw more of them than I did,” Ben answered.

After passing through the clouds the starlight showed the way, and in a very short time the lights of Quito were seen glittering twenty miles or so to the south.

“What are we going to do when we get to the town?” shouted Jimmie.

“Hire some one to watch the machines and get a square meal!” Ben replied. “And buy new tents and provisions and everything of that kind!” he went on. “I suppose those savages will have a fine time devouring our perfectly good food.”

“And they’ll probably use the oiled-silk tents for clothing!” laughed Jimmie. “I wonder if we can buy more at Quito.”

“Of course we can!” replied Ben. “Quito has a hundred thousand inhabitants, and there are plenty of European places of business there!”

The Bertha with Glenn and Carl on board was some distance in advance, and directly the boys on the Louise saw the leading machine swing about in a circle and then gradually drop to the ground. Ben, who was driving the Louise, adopted the same tactics, and very soon the two flying machines lay together in an open field, perhaps a mile distant from Quito, the capital of Ecuador, the city known throughout the world as the “City of Eternal Spring.”

It was dark at the ground level, there being only the light of the stars, faintly seen through drifting masses of clouds, many hundred feet higher here than those which had nestled over the valley.

“What next?” asked Carl as the four boys leaped from their seats and gathered in a little group.

“Supper next!” shouted Jimmie.

“But we can’t all leave the machines!” declared Glenn.

“Don’t you ever worry about the machines being left alone!” asserted Ben. “Our lights will bring about a thousand people out here within the next ten minutes. Dark as it is, our machines were undoubtedly seen before we landed, and there’ll soon be an army here asking questions. We’ll have little trouble in finding English-speaking people in the mob.”

“I guess that’s right!” Jimmie agreed. “Here comes the gang right now!”

A jumble of English, Spanish and French was now heard, and directly a dozen or more figures were seen advancing across the field to where the flying machines had landed.

“There’s some one talking United States, all right!” Jimmie declared.

Directly the visitors came up to where the boys were standing and began gazing about, some impudently, some curiously and some threateningly.

“Keep your hands off the machines!” Glenn warned, as a dusky native began handling the levers.

The fellow turned about and regarded the boy with an impudent stare. He said something in Spanish which Glenn did not understand, and then walked away to a group of natives who were whispering suspiciously together.

“Where are you from?” asked a voice in English as Glenn examined the levers to see that nothing had been removed or displaced.

“Gee!” exclaimed Jimmie. “That United States talk sounds good to me!”

The man who had spoken now turned to Jimmie and repeated his question.

“Where do you boys come from?”

“New York,” Jimmie replied.

“And you came across the Isthmus of Panama?” was the next question.

“Sure we did!” answered the boy.

“Well,” the stranger said, “my name is Bixby, Jim Bixby, and I’ve been looking for you for two days.”

“Is that so?” asked Jimmie incredulously.

“You see,” Bixby went on, “I am a dealer in automobile supplies, probably the only one doing a large business in this part of the country. Some days ago I received a telegram from Louis Havens, the millionaire aviator, saying that four pupils of his were coming this way, and advising me to take good care of you.”

“Where did Mr. Havens wire from?” asked Jimmie.

“First from New York,” was the reply, “and then from New Orleans. It seems that he started away from New York on the day following your departure, and that he has been having trouble with the Ann all the way down. His last telegram instructed me to ask you to wait here until his arrival. He ought to be here sometime to-morrow.”

“That’ll be fine!” exclaimed Jimmie.

“And now,” Bixby went on, “you’ll have to employ two or three fellows to watch your machines for the night. The natives would carry them away piecemeal if you left them here unguarded.”

“Perhaps you can pick out two or three trusty men,” suggested Glenn.

“I have had three men in mind ever since I received my first message from Mr. Havens!” replied Bixby. “When your machine was sighted in the air not long ago, I ’phoned to their houses and they will undoubtedly be here before long.”

“How’ll they know where to come?” asked Jimmie.

“Don’t you think that half the people in Quito don’t know where these wonders of the air lighted!” Bixby laughed. “The news went over the city like lightning when your planes showed. Your lights, of course, revealed your exact whereabouts to those on this side of the town, and telephones and messenger boys have done the rest.”

While the boys talked with this very welcome and friendly visitor, the clamor of an automobile was heard, and directly two great acetylene eyes left the highway and turned, bumping and swaying, into the field.

“There will be damages to pay for mussing up this grass!” Carl suggested, as a fresh crowd of sight-seers followed the machine into the enclosure.

“Of course,” replied Bixby, “and they’ll try to make you pay ten times what the damage really amounts to. But you leave all that to me. I can handle these fellows better than you can!”

“We shall be glad to have you do so!” Glenn replied.

In a moment the automobile ran up to the planes and stopped. Of the four men it contained, three alighted and approached Bixby.

“These are the guards,” the latter said turning to the boys.

The men, who seemed both willing and efficient, drew a long rope and several steel stakes from the automobile and began enclosing the machines with the same. As the rope was strung out, the constantly increasing crowd was pushed back beyond the circle.

“Won’t they make trouble for the guards during the night?” asked Ben.

“I think not,” was the reply. “I have already arranged for a number of native policemen to assist these men.”

“Gee!” exclaimed Carl, “I guess Mr. Havens picked out the right man!”

“How did he know we were going to stop at Quito?” asked Ben.

“He didn’t know!” replied Bixby. “But he surmised that you’d be obliged to land here in order to fill your fuel tanks.”

“Well, we didn’t come here for that purpose,” laughed Glenn. “We came here because the savages chased us out of a cute little valley about twenty miles away!”

“It’s a wonder you got away at all if they saw you!” said Bixby.

“I guess they didn’t seem to understand about our motors getting into the air!” laughed Jimmie. “The minute the wheel left the ground their war-cries ceased.”

“It’s a wonder you were permitted to get to the machines at all if they caught you away from them!” said Bixby.

“Aw, we always have the luck of the Irish,” Jimmie replied. “The shooting and the display of electric searchlights kept them away until we got into the seats and our way of ascending into the sky did the rest.”

“You are very lucky boys!” insisted Bixby.

“It’s nice to hear you say so!” Ben answered, “because we’re going to follow this line of mountains down to Cape Horn, and visit every ruined temple on the route that has a ghost on its visiting list.”

“If you’ll listen to the stories you hear in the cities,” laughed Bixby, “you’ll visit a good many ruined temples.”

“Glenn was telling us about a temple down on Lake Titicaca,” Ben replied. “He says that figures in flowing white robes appear in the night-time, and are seen by the light that emanates from their own figures! He says, too, that there are illuminations of red, and green, and yellow, which come from no determinable source, and that there are noises which come out of the clear air unaccounted for!”

“There is such a temple, isn’t there, Mr. Bixby?” asked Glenn.

“There is a temple about which such stories are told,” laughed Bixby. “Are you boys thinking of going there?”

“Sure thing, we’re going there!” asserted Jimmie.

During this conversation the three men who had been employed by Bixby to guard the flying machine during the night had been standing by in listening attitudes. When the haunted temple and the proposed visit of the boys to it was mentioned, one of them whose name had been given as Doran, touched Jimmie lightly on the shoulder.

“Are you really going to that haunted temple?” he asked.

Jimmie nodded, and in a short time the four boys and Bixby left for the city in the automobile. As they entered the machine Jimmie thought that he caught a hostile expression on Doran’s face, but the impression was so faint that he said nothing of the matter to his chums.

In an hour’s time Bixby and the four boys were seated at dinner in the dining-room of a hotel which might have been on Broadway, so perfect were its appointments.

“Now let me give you a little advice,” Bixby said, after the incidents of the journey had been discussed. “Never talk about prospective visits to ruined temples in South America. There is a general belief that every person who visits a ruin is in quest of gold, and many a man who set out to gratify his own curiosity has never been heard of again!”

CHAPTER IV.

PLANNING A MIDNIGHT RIDE

“If the people of the country believe there is gold in the temples said to be haunted,” Glenn asked, “why don’t they hunt for it themselves, without waiting for others to come down and give them a tip?”

“Generally speaking,” replied Bixby, “every ruin in Peru has been searched time and again by natives. Millions of treasure has been found, but there is still the notion, which seems to have been born into every native of South America, that untold stores of gold, silver and precious stones are still concealed in the ruined temples.”

“What I can’t understand is this,” Glenn declared. “Why should these natives, having every facility for investigation, follow the lead of strangers who come here mostly for pleasure?”

“I can’t understand that part of it myself,” Bixby replied, “except on the theory that the natives ascribe supernatural powers to foreigners. Even the most intelligent natives who do not believe in the magic of Europeans, watch them closely when they visit ruins, doubtless on the theory that in some way the visitors have become posted as to the location of treasure.”

“Well,” Ben observed, “they can’t make much trouble for us, because we can light down on a temple, run through it before the natives can get within speaking distance, and fly away again.”

“All the same,” Bixby insisted, “I wouldn’t talk very much about visiting ruins of any kind. And here’s another thing,” he went on, “there are stories afloat in Peru that fugitives from justice sometimes hide in these ruins. And so, you see,” he added with a laugh, “you are likely to place yourself in bad company in the minds of the natives by being too inquisitive about the methods of the ancient Incas.”

“All right,” Glenn finally promised, “we’ll be careful about mentioning ruins in the future.”

After dinner the boys went to Bixby’s place of business and ordered gasoline enough to fill the tanks. They also ordered an extra supply of gasoline, which was to be stored in an auxiliary container of rubber made for that purpose.

“Now about tents and provisions?” asked Bixby.

“Confound those savages!” exclaimed Jimmie. “We carried those oiled-silk shelter-tents safely through two long journeys in the mountains of California and Mexico, and now we have to turn them over to a lot of savages in Ecuador! I believe we could have frightened the brutes away by doing a little shooting! Anyway, I wish we’d tried it!”

“Not for mine!” exclaimed Carl. “I don’t want to go through the country killing people, even if they are South American savages.”

“I may be able to get you a supply of oiled-silk in Quito,” Bixby suggested, “but I am not certain. It is very expensive, you understand, of course, and rather scarce.”

“The expense is all right,” replied Glenn, “but we felt a sort of sentimental attachment for those old shelter-tents. We can get all the provisions we need here, of course?” he added.

“Certainly,” was the reply.

“Look here!” Jimmie cut in. “What time will there be a moon to-night?”

“Probably about one o’clock,” was the reply. “By that time, however, you ought all to be sound asleep in your beds.”

“What’s the idea, Jimmie?” asked Carl.

The boys all saw by the quickening expressions in the two boys’ faces that they had arrived at an understanding as to the importance of moonlight on that particular night.

“Why, I thought—” began Jimmie. “I just thought it might not do any harm to run back to that peaceful little glade to see if the tents really have been removed or destroyed!”

“Impossible!” advised Bixby. “The tents may remain just where you left them, but, even if they are there, you may have no chance of securing them. It is a risky proposition!”

“What do you mean?” asked Ben.

“I mean that the superstition of the savages may restrain them from laying hands on the tents and provisions you left,” replied Bixby, “but, at the same time,” he continued, “they may watch the old camp for days in the hope of your return.”

“What’s the idea?” asked Glenn.

“Do they want to eat us?” asked Jimmie.

“Some of the wild tribes living near the head waters of the Amazon,” Bixby explained, “are crazy over the capture of white men. They are said to march them back to their own country in state, and to inaugurate long festivals in honor of the victory. And during the entire festival,” Bixby went on, “the white prisoners are subjected to tortures of the most brutal description!”

“Say,” giggled Jimmie, giving Carl a dig in the ribs with his elbow, “let’s take the train for Guayaquil to-morrow morning! I don’t think it’s right for us to take chances on the savages having all the fun!”

“As between taking the first train for Guayaquil and taking a trip through the air to the old camp to-night,” Bixby laughed, “I certainly advise in favor of the former.”

“Aw, that’s all talk,” Ben explained, as Bixby, after promising to look about in the morning for oiled-silk and provisions, locked his place of business and started toward the hotel with the boys.

“What do you say to it, Carl?” Jimmie asked, as the two fell in behind the others.

“I’m game!” replied Carl.

“Then I’ll tell you what we’ll do!” Jimmie explained. “You and I will get a room together and remain up until moonrise. If the sky is clear of clouds at that time, and promises to remain so until morning, we’ll load ourselves down with all the guns we can get hold of and fly out to the old camp. It’ll be a fine ride, anyway!”

“Pretty chilly, though, in high altitudes at this time of night,” suggested Carl. “I’m most frozen now!”

“So’m I,” Jimmie replied, “and I’ll tell you what we’ll do! When we start away we’ll swipe blankets off the bed. I guess they’ll keep us warm.”

“Well, we’ll have to keep Glenn and Ben from knowing anything about the old trip,” Carl suggested. “Of course they couldn’t prevent us going, but they’d put up a kick that would make it unpleasant.”

“Indeed they would!” answered Jimmie. “But, at the same time, they’d go themselves if they’d got hold of the idea first. I suggested it, you know, and that’s one reason why they would reject it.”

Arrived at the hotel, Jimmie and Carl had no difficulty in getting a double room, although their chums looked rather suspiciously at them as they all entered the elevator.

“Now,” said Ben, “don’t you boys get into any mischief to-night. Quito isn’t a town for foreigners to explore during the dark hours!”

“I’m too sleepy to think of any midnight adventures!” cried Jimmie with a wink and a yawn.

“Me, too!” declared Carl. “I’ll be asleep in about two minutes!”

It was about ten o’clock when the boys found themselves alone in a large room which faced one of the leading thoroughfares of the capital city. Quito is well lighted by electricity, and nearly all the conveniences of a city of the same size in the United States are there to be had.

The street below the room occupied by the two boys was brilliantly lighted until midnight, and the lads sat at a window looking out on the strange and to them unusual scene. When the lights which flashed from business signs and private offices were extinguished, the thoroughfare grew darker, and then the boys began seriously to plan their proposed excursion.

“What we want to do,” Jimmie suggested, “is to get out of the hotel without being discovered and make our way to a back street where a cab can be ordered. It is a mile to the field where the machines were left, and we don’t want to lose any time.”

Before leaving the room the boys saw that their automatic revolvers and searchlights were in good order. They also made neat packages of the woolen blankets which they found on the bed and carried them away.

“Now,” said Jimmie as they reached a side street and passed swiftly along in the shadow of a row of tall buildings, “we’ve got to get into a cab without attracting any attention, for we’ve stolen the hotel’s blankets, and we can’t talk Spanish, and if a cop should seize us we’d have a good many explanations to make.”

“I don’t think it’s good sense to take the blankets,” Carl objected.

“Aw, you’ll think so when we get a couple of thousand feet up in the air on the Louise!” laughed Jimmie.

After walking perhaps ten minutes, the boys came upon a creaking old cab drawn by a couple of the sorriest-looking horses they had ever seen. The driver, who sat half asleep on the seat, jumped down to the pavement and eyed the boys suspiciously as they requested to be taken out to where the machines had been left.

The lads were expecting a long tussle between the English and the Spanish languages, but the cabman surprised them by answering their request in excellent English.

“So?” exclaimed Jimmie. “You talk United States, too, do you? Where did you come from?”

“You want to go out to the machines, do you?” asked the cabman, without appearing to notice the question.

“That’s where we want to go!” replied Carl.

“What for?” asked the cabman.

“None of your business!” replied Jimmie.

“I’ve been out there once to-night!” said the cabman, “and the party I drew beat me out of my fare.”

“That’s got nothing to do with us!” replied Carl.

“It’ll cost you ten dollars!” growled the cabman.

“Say, look here!” Jimmie exclaimed. “You’re a bigger robber than the New York cabmen! It’s only a mile to the field, and we’ll walk just to show you that we don’t have to use your rickety old cab.”

With a snarl and a frown the cabman climbed back up on his seat and gave every appearance of dropping into sound slumber.

“Now what do you think of that for a thief?” asked Carl, as the boys hastened away toward the field. “I’d walk ten miles before I’d give that fellow a quarter!”

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Jimmie answered. “The moon won’t be up for an hour yet. Perhaps we’d better walk up anyway, for then we can enter the field quietly and see what’s going on.”

On the way out the lads met several parties returning from the field, and when they reached the opening in the fence they saw that many curious persons were still present. There were at least half a dozen vehicles of different kinds gathered close about the roped-off circle.

“Say,” Carl exclaimed as the boys passed into the field, “look at that old rattletrap on the right. Isn’t that the same vehicle the cabman pretended to go asleep on as we came away?”

“Sure it is!” answered Jimmie. “I don’t remember the appearance of the cab so well, but I know just how the horses looked.”

“He must have found a ten-dollar fare out here!” Carl suggested.

“Yes, and he must have come out by a roundabout way in order to prevent our seeing him. Now what do you think he did that for? Why should he care whether we see him or not?”

As the boy asked the question the rig which they had been discussing was driven slowly away, not in the direction of the road, but toward the back end of the field.

“Something mighty funny going on here!” Jimmie declared. “I guess it’s a good thing we came out.”

When the boys came up to where the machines were lying, Doran was the first one to approach.

“Little nervous about your machines, eh?” he asked.

“Rather,” replied Jimmie. “We came out with the idea of taking a short trip to see if they still are in working order.”

“Well,” Doran said with a scowl, “of course you know that you can’t take the machines out without an order from Mr. Bixby!”

CHAPTER V.

A WAIF AND A STRAY

“Bixby doesn’t own these machines!” exclaimed Carl angrily.

“Who does own them?” demanded Doran.

“We four boys own them!” was the reply.

“Well, you’ve got to show me!” insisted Doran, insolently.

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do!” Jimmie announced. “We’ll go right back to Bixby and put you off the job!”

“Go as far as you like,” answered Doran. “I was put here to guard these machines and I intend to do it. You can’t bluff me!”

While the boys stood talking with the impertinent guard they saw two figures moving stealthily about the aeroplanes. Jimmie hastened over to the Louise and saw a man fumbling in the tool-box.

“What are you doing here?” demanded the boy.

The intruder turned a startled face for an instant and then darted away, taking the direction the cab had taken.

Carl and Doran now came running up and Jimmie turned to the latter.

“Nice old guard you are!” he almost shouted. “Here you stand talking with us while men are sneaking around the machines!”

“Was there some one here?” asked Doran in assumed amazement.

“There surely was!” replied Jimmie. “Where are the other guards?”

“Why,” replied Doran hesitatingly, “they got tired of standing around doing nothing and went home. It’s pretty dull out here.”

“Well,” Jimmie answered, “I’m going to see if this machine has been tampered with! Get up on one of the seats, Carl,” he said with a wink, “and we’ll soon find out if any of the fastenings have been loosened.”

The boy was permitted to follow instructions without any opposition or comment from Doran, and in a moment Jimmie was in the other seat with the wheels in motion.

Seeing too late the trick which had been played upon him, Doran uttered an exclamation of anger and sprang for one of the planes. His fingers just scraped the edge of the wing as the machine, gathering momentum every instant, lifted from the ground, and he fell flat.

He arose instantly to shake a threatening fist at the disappearing aeroplane. Jimmie turned back with a grin on his freckled face.

“Catch on behind,” he said, “and I’ll give you a ride!”

“Did you see some one fumbling around the machine?” asked Carl, as Jimmie slowed the motors down a trifle in order to give a chance for conversation.

“Sure, I did!” was the reply. “He ducked away when he saw me coming, and ran away into the field in the direction taken by the cab.”

“Gee!” exclaimed Carl. “Do you think the cabman brought that man out to work some mischief with the flying machines?”

“I don’t think much about it,” Jimmie answered, “because I don’t know much about it! He might have done something to the machine which will cause us to take a drop in the air directly, but I don’t think so. Anyhow, it’s running smoothly now.”