Managing Editor, Comet, Kansas City
Send man at once to follow Chicago balloon man and discover mission. Advance funds and draw on us. Will share story with you.
Managing Editor, New York World.
It is hardly necessary to say that Bob Russell was a passenger on the Limited leaving the next morning. He was just twenty-four hours behind in the race, but he meant, if he could, to execute his orders, and was already smiling delightedly in anticipation of what he knew would be a contest of wits.
Clarkeville was even smaller than the boys had imagined it. The little depot was far more pretentious than any other building in sight. Beyond this was a wide and exceedingly dusty street. On the far side of this unpaved roadway was a row of one- and two-story frame buildings. Here and there was a cheaper structure of little else but corrugated iron sheets, while to the left, where a similar street crossed the railroad at right angles, there was a one-story cement building proudly labeled "Bank." Both streets suddenly disappeared in a sandy, treeless plain.
Wooden awnings in front of the buildings extended over the sidewalk. At the edge of these awnings were a few teams and many saddled horses, some of them hitched to posts, and others standing with their bridle reins dropped to the ground. Not many persons were in sight. The deep and cloudless blue sky was brilliant with the noonday sun while a hot breezeless haze hung over all.
The Limited had made its usual daily pause and then to the surprise of the agent had run down beyond the water tank with one car, switched it back onto the one siding until it stood opposite the musty smelling freight shed, and, quickly coupling up again, had gone.
Ned and Alan had alighted when the train stopped. Around them the boys could detect the first signs of the real West. At one end of the station a big-hatted Mexican squatted by a hot tamale can. Among others idling near were some high-heeled and sombrero-topped cow-boys, whose easy and loose clothing made Alan envious at once. Even the depot attendants, with their belts and loosely knotted neckerchiefs, seemed gayer and freer than their brother laborers back in the East.
With coats off and collars loosened the two boys filled their lungs with the tonic air, for, in spite of the heat, a certain dryness seemed to give life and vigor to the atmosphere.
"There it is, Alan," exclaimed Ned finally, pointing away to the north and the distant mountains, "beyond those peaks and somewhere under that sapphire sky is our land of promise. We'll be in it in a few days."
The brilliant sky, the exhilarating air and the new life about them filled both boys with enthusiasm.
"Whoopee!" almost shouted Alan finally, throwing out his arms as if to embrace his friend. "All we need is an Indian or two and I guess we'd be out West for sure."
"You may not be so anxious to see them before we start back," remarked Ned. "Anyway, I promise you enough of them in this country."
With the departure of the train, the two boys became the center of some attention. Strangers were not plentiful in Clarkeville, and when the news spread that a special car was standing behind the freight shed on the far side of the tracks there was an instant rush of idlers in that direction. Ned and Alan returned with them and smiling good-naturedly right and left took stand at the forward car steps.
It was about two o'clock in the afternoon, but so anxious had the boys become in the last stage of their journey that they had ordered Elmer to put off the noonday meal until they reached Clarkeville. The colored boy, troubled over the notion of a good dinner spoiling, was waiting on the car platform for it chance to get his "bosses," as he delighted to call them, into the car.
Before he could do so, and while the two chums were answering idle questions as to whether they were a "show," Ned's quick eye caught sight of a more important personage. A middle-aged man, not quite so western in appearance as the others, but plainly as much at home in the saddle, rode up with a clatter and sprang from his pony.
Ned advanced quickly, spurred on by the new arrival's quick "Howdy, strangers!"
"My name is Ned Napier," explained the lad, "and this is my friend, Alan Hope."
The rider held out his hand.
"I'm Curt Bradley, and I'm the mayor of this town," he replied by way of introduction.
"Glad to meet you," answered Ned. "You've just saved me the trouble of looking you up, for that would have been my first business."
"Not to be over cur'ous," laughed the Mayor as his eyes took in the big expensive car and then returned to the two boys, "might I inquire the nature o' yer business."
Ned laughed.
"Certainly," he answered, "but come aboard first. Elmer," he said to the waiting cook, waiter and porter, "another plate for Mr. Bradley."
And in spite of the wholesome-looking but bronzed Mr. Bradley's protest that gentleman was soon sitting with the boys before what was perhaps the most elaborate meal he had ever eaten. His protest came from the fact that he had already had his dinner, but the fresh fruit and vegetables and spring chicken were temptations too strong for him.
When Ned saw that their new acquaintance was at his ease and rapidly becoming satisfied he lost no time in coming to the point.
"Our visit here, Mr. Bradley, is, in part, a secret. I hope you will accept my assurance, however, that it can in no way operate against or damage your town or its residents or the country round about. I want your assistance."
"Ye can hev that," came the quick answer, "and if your lay is no one's business, why, it ain't none o' ours."
"I'm glad to hear that," answered Ned. "But there may be some who will not be so considerate."
"When I pass the word I guess they'll all think about like me," interrupted the Clarkeville official. "Ye jest tell me what it is you want."
"First I'll explain to you that in the other part of this car we have the material to make a dirigible balloon."
"A what!" exclaimed the Mayor, his mouth full of chicken.
"A balloon that you can guide through the air."
Curt Bradley dropped his knife.
"One o' them flyin' machines?"
"Exactly."
"And kin we all see it fly?"
"Certainly," answered Ned, "if you will just see that no one interferes with us. I shall be glad in time to show you, I hope, the most perfect dirigible balloon ever put together and to explain just how it is to be operated. But in a few days, when it is ready, we are going to sail away on business that is our own. And when that time comes curiosity must stop. If anyone attempts to ascertain where we are going or what we mean to do I sound warning now that we will do all we can to prove to him that it is none of his business."
The Mayor looked at them in surprise.
"Why," he began, "I suppose ye must be on a mighty partic'lar job. Are you—?"
"There!" interrupted Ned. "You see you are beginning to ask questions. Since we can't answer them we'd rather not hear them."
"Right," exclaimed the Mayor. "Give me yer word it's all fair and square and that ye ain't violatin' no laws and I'll give ye my word they won't be no more questions asked."
"I'm glad to do that," answered Ned, "we want certain accommodations for which we are willing to pay. But we want the confidence of Clarkeville that we are all right, even if we are a little young."
"Clarkeville is yours," laughed the Mayor, getting up from the table, "and now what do ye want first?"
In another hour the two boys, guided by Mayor Bradley, had examined the entire settlement. A little way down the railroad track they found a rather ramshackle building, mostly tin roof, and behind it a large plot of ground surrounded with a high corral or fence. The sign read "Buck's Corral." In the East it would have been called a livery stable. The air navigators engaged the place at five dollars a day for a week or more, and put a half dozen Mexican laborers at work removing the few horses and cleaning out the building and corral. The proprietor, who owned one of the few wagons in the town, they also hired as a drayman at $2.50 a day for himself and team.
Work began at once. Through Mayor Bradley three reliable men were employed as watchmen, and these, in eight-hour shifts, undertook the duty of seeing that nothing in the corral was molested in the absence of Ned and Alan. Then the work of transporting material began, the first task being the removal of the five large generating tanks.
Alan had been thoughtful enough to foresee the need of special clothing, and it was not long before he and Ned and even Elmer Grissom were enjoying the freedom of wide-brimmed hats, stout shirts, thick-soled shoes, and belts. Elmer's duty was the constant care of the Placida, which he only left on special permission. Ned and Alan were free to devote themselves wholly to the agreeable and long anticipated task of at last "getting ready."
Help was easily hired and with Buck's wagon in service the wide-opened doors of the baggage car seemed to give out more boxes, crates and bundles than a full freight car. When strangers were on the car the colored boy stood like a sentinel over the black case which was made less conspicuous by being covered with a blanket. And his constant injunction "No smokin', sah," soon won him a sobriquet, Mexicans and cow-boys alike calling him "Smoky."
Elmer was relieved from picket duty in time to prepare an extra supper to which Mayor Bradley, Buck, and Jack Jellup, the town marshal, were invited. It was extra work for "Smoky," who took his new name with a mild protest; but when he called the crew to the meal it was apparent that he harbored no resentment. Jack and Buck took their seats gingerly, but the boys soon made all at home.
"There ain't agoin' to be no pay took fur this day's work," suddenly exclaimed Buck as he finished a generous portion of cold sliced ham and potato salad.
The boys laughed in protest.
"I ain't seen real food in ten years," continued Buck, "and what I said goes. This meal's worth a week's work to me."
"All I got to say, young uns," interrupted Jack Jellup, the marshal, "is that this 'ere town is yours."
Jack's idea of hospitality was an invitation to the boys to visit the town saloons as his guest, but Ned arid Alan laughed and thanked him, pleading weariness as a reason for declining. The final tribute of the three guests, however, before they left, was to push the Placida along with crowbars until it was free of the freight house and stood where the evening breeze could freely find its way through the windows. Then with hearty "buenos noches," ("Good night") and promises to see that every one was on hand early in the morning, they left.
For some time Ned, Alan and Elmer sat in camp chairs on the car platform reveling in the glorious starlit night. From somewhere in the little town came the sound of low singing and a Spanish air played on the mandolin. It was all so different from the life the boys had known that it seemed like a dream. And when their real dreams did come it was of the not far distant Tunit Chas.
Old Buck's horse-corral had blossomed over night into a modern balloon factory. And the proprietor, with his bronco team, and the superintending Ned and Alan made big gaps the next day in the precious freight of the Placida. By noon the five casks for generating hydrogen, the cooling and purifying box, and the lead pipe and other equipment, had been transferred to the old horse yard. Three tons of iron turnings, forwarded by freight in advance, were found in the keeping of the railroad agent. It took Buck six trips to move this, and that consumed the afternoon.
A special trip was made by the wagon just after luncheon. This was to transport the tool chest—practically two chests, for it was a large one containing both wood and iron-working tools. With it rode the two boys, both in overalls and ready to begin the setting up and adjustment of the generating tanks.
After their arrival at the corral, the rest of the afternoon, in spite of the heat, slipped quickly away. But by night a foundation had been leveled in a corner of the yard and the five barrel-like generators were firmly anchored and connected by lead pipes with the cooling and purifying box.
"Looks purty much like a distillery," commented Buck, who had just made his last trip with the iron shavings, which were now piled close by the casks.
"And is," laughed Ned, "in a way."
But he volunteered no more. In fact the whole matter was a mystery to every one in the town, except Mayor Curt Bradley and Marshal Jack Jellup.
In the morning the first work accomplished was the removal, one at a time, of ten casks of sulphuric acid, each weighing four hundred pounds. It was a delicate job and not unattended with danger in case of a cask breaking. The boys began to realize the need of help of a higher grade than that of the "greasers" who had been thus far their only assistants except Buck.
Their usual good luck seemed to be with them, however, for just in the middle of the work of sliding a heavy carboy of acid from the wagon a stranger stepped from the group of onlookers, and without words gave a hand to the job.
Alan was about to thank him hurriedly, when the stranger said: "Wot's the game, son? Wot's doin'?"
Alan was at first inclined to resent this "tough" familiarity. Then he realized that the language of the man was in his natural manner of speaking, and he said:
"Who are you and where are you from?"
"Give you one guess," laughed the stranger. "No! Can't tell a 'bo'? Well, just tramp. Wot's dew name? I lost me card case. Me nom de plumb is Kid, Californy Kid. And me address is—well wot's de name o' dis munificent metropolis?"
"Clarkeville, New Mexico," answered Alan smiling.
"Well, den me address is dat. Wot's de nex' inquiry?"
The man was young. His clothing was worn and greasy, his shoes were patched, and those parts of his face and hands that could be seen between smears of coal dust were red from exposure and the sun.
"How do you happen to be here?" continued Alan.
"Well, cul—beg pardon, son—de fact is I lost me purse and de brakeman on de fast freight wouldn't take me check. I was dumped. And I can't get away exceptin' I walk."
"Then you wouldn't care to work?"
"Will dis beautiful city give me coin and chuck widout work?"
"I'm afraid not," laughed Alan.
"Den' it's work for yours truly," answered the tramp with a sort of cheery humor. "But, say, boss, ye couldn't stake me to a drink and some chuck afore I loosen up me muscles?"
"Your pay will be two dollars a day," said Alan, "but no drinking goes. Here's a note that will get you something to eat." And writing a message to Elmer the tramp was soon hurrying to the car for a meal. A half hour later, with his sleeves rolled up, he returned, riding alongside Buck on the wagon.
Ned had given the new hand little attention.
Now he looked him over and asked:
"What's your real name?"
"Gus, boss; or, spellin' it out, Gustave Lippe. How's dat for a handle—Lippe?"
Ned looked at the young man long and sharply.
"One name, they say, is as good as another out here. But I didn't know tramps got this far west."
"Sure," answered the tramp, "It's long jumps and hard ones. It's me last excursion dis way."
"Well," said Ned slowly, "you can work for us as long as you are not too inquisitive."
"Dat's me, boss. I'm de clam till me two dollars per will git me to de next whistle."
"Then you'd better arrange to board with Buck."
"Dat's me lay, boss, already booked. Now show me some work. Me trunk was checked t'roo and I ain't nuttin' on me mind but me job."
"Well, you had better spend the rest of the afternoon in cleaning up a bit," suggested Ned. "Here's five dollars in advance. Report early in the morning."
"Tank's, boss," said Gus, the tramp. But he took the bill slowly.
"But, you can't spend it on beer and whisky and work for us," added Ned.
Gus shifted uneasily.
"You'd better have a bath and a shave. And if you need clothes and can get them here," continued Ned, "I'll advance more to-morrow—if you show up all right."
"I kin work widdout a shave," the man said, "ain't der nuttin' doin' to-day?"
Assured that to-morrow was when he was wanted the tramp slowly and apparently reluctantly turned and slouched away toward the stores.
"What do you make of him, Ned?" asked Alan as the two toys resumed work.
"Too slangy, I think," commented Ned.
But the final stowing of the acid soon drove the tramp from the minds of the boys.
When the young aeronauts finally closed the corral and returned to the car, the sun a great red ball, was just dropping behind the serrated mountains of the western horizon. On the car steps, Ned turned and pointed to the north. Far away the dusky gray of the plains deepened into darker and darker shadows that ended in a low black mass. But here and there from the black wall rose irregular spires, their tops pink-tipped by the red sun.
"Yes," exclaimed Alan, "the Tunit Chas—our mountains."
And even though the vigilant Elmer called from within, the boys stood and gazed in silence until the last glow had died away and the land of their hopes was lost under the stars.
Important as was the work to be done in Buck's corral, there was another vital thing to be accomplished while this progressed. That was the creation of a base of supplies near the navigator's field of work. This was preferably to be at the junction of the Amarilla and Chusco rivers, and that point lay just eighty-five miles to the north. Between Clarkeville and that spot there were no roads and, at this time of the year, perhaps, no water. With the best wagon and team they might be able to get, this trip over the desert would require not less than five days.
It was impossible for either of the boys to go on this important errand, as both were needed on the spot to set up the balloon. So it had long since been decided that Elmer was to have charge of this secondary expedition. And since it was Elmer who would have to conduct the expedition safely to its destination and establish a relief camp, the colored boy had been thoroughly coached in his coming task.
"Kin I?" the boy had said more than once. "When de Cibola gits dar I'll be dar. And ain't no Indians nor rattlesnakes nor hot weather goin' to break up dat camp."
And the camp meant gasoline, water, food and a stepping stone back to civilization, whether the expedition ended in failure or success. As the boys had already planned that Buck should furnish the wagon and horses and guide Elmer's caravan, they had asked him to call that evening to talk it over.
"I'm ready to start, yes, right now," Elmer had said as he served the good supper over which he had been laboring, "but I does jes nach'elly hate to turn you young gemmen over to dese greaser cooks."
The boys laughed. "You don't think we can keep this up all summer, do you?" exclaimed, Ned. "Even 'greaser' cooks are better than having nothing to eat. And up there," nodding toward the north, "there won't be any cooks."
"Don't forget," interrupted Elmer, "camp—camp—well, my camp. When you get dar dar'll be a good meal waitin' you and when you git outen de mountains I'll still be dar waitin' wid eatin's."
The boys laughed again.
"Like as not," suggested Alan, "if you get all that truck up there. You'll certainly have enough. But don't you bother about the eating. You just watch the water and the gasoline."
"Till de snow flies," exclaimed Elmer with emphasis.
"Which, right there," dryly remarked Ned as he disposed of the last of a generous slice of melon, "is rather indefinite."
When Buck, whose real name they had discovered to be William Bourke—easily corrupted into "Buck"—appeared, the boys had a delicate job before them. Inquiry had quickly shown them that Buck's twenty-five years on the old Santa Fe trail as guide and an active service in the army as scout easily made him the man to conduct Elmer to the north.
To all their long explanations and reasons Buck listened in silence. When there seemed nothing more to be said, Buck smothered the still glowing end of a cigarette between his dark weather-beaten fingers and said slowly:
"When do we start?"
It was arranged that on the second morning Buck should be ready for a journey of uncertain length; that the general direction should be north; that the final destination should be revealed by Elmer on the second morning out.
"Soldier-like," Buck had commented, "and that's the way I like it."
Buck and an assistant were to take an outfit of two wagons, each drawn by four horses. In the lighter wagon six barrels of water were to be carried for use in case the usual "water holes" were dry. In case of an accident, the lighter wagon and horses were to be sent south by the second man and Elmer and Buck were to make a quick dash forward with what water and supplies could be carried on the other wagon.
Old Buck made rather light of the matter.
"Injuns ain't nothin' nowadays," he had explained, shrugging his shoulders, "ye jest want to keep yer bearin's and git used to drinkin' atmosphere and ye'r all right."
The contract with Buck called for thirty dollars a day in money and food for himself and a helper. Both parties to the contract were satisfied and after Buck's fresh cigarette disappeared in the direction of the town the boys lost no time in turning in for a good night's rest.
While Buck was busy getting his wagons and horses and water casks ready the next morning the boys were not surprised to see Gus, the tramp, drive up just after breakfast with the moving team.
"Have you had breakfast?" asked Alan by way of a greeting.
"Have," retorted Gus, pulling up his team awkwardly. "It's me wrappin' meself around tortillas till I feel like a bag o' corn meal."
"I can't see that you've spent any great amount of that five dollars on yourself," interrupted Ned, noticing the tramp's unshaven face and the still visible traces of coal smoke.
"Well, boss, ye'r right. Dead right. But, ye see, de barber o' dis growin' city only works on Saturday and me friend Buck's bat' tub has a leak. Anyhow, de ladies hereabouts is scarce and few. Think wot a swell I'll be when Sunday comes."
"Come in the car. We've plenty of water, and soap too," suggested Alan, smiling.
'"Well, boss, don't tempt me. I'm working. I can't soldier away no time dudin' meself up on do bosses' time."
"All right," replied Ned, laughing, "every one to his taste."
There was plenty of work to be done, and in a few minutes all were at it. The chief task this day was the unloading of the materials yet on the car. That had to be done by night, except in the case of the boxes marked "Overland," all of which had been carefully and specially crated for wagon transportation. Of these there seemed a great many, and they were all put in one pile in the space made vacant by the removal of the gas generators. The hydrogen case, covered with a blanket, stood always under Elmer's watchful eye. This was to be removed last.
As the boys meant to stay close by their valuable outfit, they planned to load Elmer's caravan early the next morning and to see it start on its trying and dangerous trip. Then they intended to remove the hydrogen cask to the corral and take up their own abode in the same place. The Placida—with no little regret—was to be surrendered to the railroad and returned to Chicago.
For that reason this was a busy day. Load after load of crates, boxes, and bundles were carried to the big corral, the teams stirring up the dust of Clarkeville's main street on their way. It was heavy work, and required care. Smoky-faced Gus was earning his pay. So skilful and adroit was he in executing tasks assigned him that Ned commented on it to Alan.
While the boys were at their noonday lunch Buck appeared to report progress. The big wagon was to come from a sheep ranch, ten miles to the south. A man had gone for it and would arrive with it that night. The wheels of the smaller wagon were being soaked in water and the axles had been greased.
Ned could not resist asking:
"How's your new boarder, Buck?"
"Ain't seen much o' him. Purty poor feeder fur a tramp. Can't get a tortilla down him nohow."
Ned looked at Alan significantly.
"Hasn't any baggage, has he?" continued Ned.
"Not a stitch. Lessen you allow fur a extra suit o' underclothes."
"Under clothing?" exclaimed Ned. "Two suits?"
"Yep. And fine, too. My old woman washed a suit to-day and she 'lows as how it cost more than the rest o' his outfit."
"Don't you think that funny?"
"'What?" responded Alan sleepily.
"Why, a tramp with two suits of fine underwear?"
"Probably he stole them."
"And probably he didn't. A real tramp might steal them, but he wouldn't wear them."
"Well, what do you care," laughed Alan, "whether he's a tramp or not so long as he's useful?"
Ned was silent a few moments.
"Tramp or not, that fellow will bear watching."
"All right," conceded Alan, "I guess we can do that."
By night the barn and horse yard of the corral looked like a combination manufactory and hardware store. The seven sections of the skeleton-like car stretched across the old horse yard like a disjointed snake; crated aeroplane guides, and the propeller and the rudder leaned against the fence, looking like the frame work of a house; the more compact engine, motor, radiator and fan stood ready for unpacking under the shelter shed, while shafts, connections and boxes of small parts filled a large part of the empty stalls. The tins of gasoline for experimental flights and the first trip to Elmer's camp were in a far corner of the yard, and in the wagon shed stood the two immense special trunks containing the gas bag and the Italian hemp netting.
The evening meal was not as cheery and chatty an affair as the preceding ones had been, although Elmer had done his best in honor of their farewell. And the boys insisted that at this last meal the waiter should be dispensed with, and Elmer was put at the head of the table.
"Yo' make me feel as if I was a startin' fo' do norf pole," exclaimed Elmer. "I don't see what's de use of so much fussin'."
"Well, anyway," exclaimed Ned, holding up a glass of iced tea, "here's luck to you, Elmer."
"And de same to you," answered Elmer. "And to all of us."
Rising bell was to ring at four o'clock the next morning; so the boys all turned in at once after they had cleaned up the kitchen.
It was about twelve o'clock when a sudden call sounded through the car.
"Alan!".
It was Ned, who, clad in pajamas, was shaking his chum. The latter, dazed for a moment, sprang upright, soundly whacking his head on the upper berth, in which Elmer was snoring loudly.
"What is it?" he exclaimed, rolling out on the floor. "Who hit me? Indians?"
"Not yet," laughed Ned, shaking his "pal" into wakefulness. "Listen!"
He struck a match, lit a candle and sat down on the edge of the berth.
"You're a bum calculator," he began, eyeing Alan.
"I didn't calculate where that berth was," answered Alan ruefully, rubbing a lump on the top of his head.
"And you didn't calculate where we are now," somewhat excitedly added Ned. "And I didn't think of it until just now."
"Go on," interrupted the still sleepy Alan. "If it's a riddle I give it up."
"I suppose you know what the air pressure is to a square inch," answered Ned, like a school teacher rebuking a slow scholar.
"Why, 14.7 pounds, of course."
"Where?" exclaimed Ned again, sharply.
"Where?" echoed Alan.
"Why, at the sea level-that's where. Not out here. Do you know how high we are above sea level right here?"
Alan began to see the point and a smile came over his face. He had no chance to answer:
"We're a little short of seven thousand feet up in the air right here in Clarkeville," continued Ned in about the same tone of exultation he might have used had he found a gold mine. "Now, listen. How many cubic feet of gas does our balloon hold?"
That question was easy. The boys knew that as well as the multiplication table.
"Sixty-five thousand, four hundred and ninety-three feet."
"And how much weight is it going to carry?"
"Three thousand nine hundred and thirty-five and a half pounds."
"Exactly," went on Ned. "That's the weight we are going to carry figured at sea level. Did it ever occur to you that our sixty-five hundred feet of hydrogen can lift more way up here seven thousand feet in the air, than it can at sea level? Did it ever occur to my special engineer and calculator that as the weight and pressure of the air grows less our hydrogen will lift just that much more weight.
"By the great horn spoon!" exclaimed Alan. "Give me that candle."
In another moment he was at the drawing room table with a pencil in his hand. It did not take him long to make his calculations.
"Live and learn," he exclaimed finally. "I'm certainly all you said was a 'bum calculator.' Our altitude here is 6,875 feet, for I took it to-day just for practice. And we can carry in our balloon just exactly 693.6 pounds more than we figured."
"I thought so," laughed Ned. "It came to me in a dream, I guess. But you don't need to feel badly. You say I'm the boss, yet I never thought of it. You see, the trouble is that all the balloon ascensions ordinarily are made from the large cities of America or Europe. Who ever thought of ascending a mountain to get a start? But since we have done so we must figure accordingly."
"And what is the first thing you are going to add?" asked Alan.
"First thing?" exclaimed Ned. "First and last and in the middle, gasoline. We may find water in the mountains and we might even find food, but we're not going to find gasoline. Now we'll do part of our work whether Elmer meets us or fails."
The incident showed the essential difference between Ned's mind and Alan's. Alan was careful, precise, and adept in detail. Ned had the "dreams" and inspirations of an inventor.
The boys, in spite of their broken slumbers, all turned out promptly at four o'clock the next morning. They found this hour the pleasantest of the day in this hot and dry region. The late moon was just disappearing, and over the plains swept a breeze that hinted of snow on some mountain peak not far away. Not a sound broke the stillness but the occasional cry of a skulking coyote.
"Hear it, Elmer," said Alan, as the boys got busy in the baggage car. "You want to look out for those fellows."
"I ain't feared o' no cutes and I ain't feared of no Injun," solemnly answered Elmer, "jist so dem rattlers gives me de go-by. Dat's all I ast."
Buck's big wagon had arrived and was backed up to the car and now, by the light of a lantern hanging above the door, the work of loading began.
With their improved gas bag the boys had figured on a record flight without renewing the gas supply. They had hoped to be able to stay at least seventy-two hours in the air. But during a large part of this time they expected to drift without the engines, for they could not carry enough gasoline to last for more than twenty-four hours of engine work. By their new calculations they had more than enough gasoline, and according to Ned it seemed probable that the decreased air pressure on the bag might extend the period of flight another twenty-four hours, or to four days.
After that all would depend on the liquid hydrogen. The remarkable qualities of this unique product were to be tested for the first time in the history of ballooning. When the gas in the bag had diminished by leakage through the valves and elsewhere so that it was no longer sufficient to carry the car, the liquid hydrogen was to be turned into gas which was to take the place of that lost. Ned had left Washington with sixteen cubic feet of the liquid in eight delicate Dewar bulbs, or casks. He figured that one-quarter of it would be lost by evaporation, leaving twelve cubic feet. This seems a small supply until one understands that the hydrogen increases in volume 880 times as it returns into gas from the liquid form. The twelve cubic feet of liquid, therefore, would give them a little over ten thousand cubic feet of new gas. And this, with the loss of ballast and provisions in three or four days, Ned calculated, would give the balloon a new life of a day or so.
Therefore, the secret plan was a direct journey to Elmer's camp, a flight of eighty-five miles, which would bring the Cibola near to the foot of the mountains of mystery. After this camp had been located and more gasoline taken aboard the boys were to head their craft toward the Tunit Chas mountains. What would follow they could not foresee. With good luck they might be able to hover birdlike over the peaks, canyons and plateaus for five days. With bad luck they might have to come down sooner or fall. Then, if the Cibola failed them, they would have to find their way to the treasure temple and the ruined palace on foot in a rugged wilderness, infested with unfriendly Indians and reptiles, or struggle back, in some manner, if they could, to Elmer's relief station, and thus to civilization.
Should the worst happen and the balloon fail them, the boys might be lost in a desolate region that is even now uncharted by the government. The only resources they would have would be the Cibola equipment and their own ability to take care of themselves. In any event, the knowledge that Elmer and Buck were in camp ready to succor them meant a good deal. And that was why the loading of the overland outfit had so much interest for the boys.
Of tins of provisions there were many: condensed foods—German erbswurst, or army rations of ground peas and meat; dried potatoes; eggs in powdered form; preserved and salt meats; hard tack; tea and coffee; flour; and evaporated fruits. The water was already arranged for and the wagon containing the casks was at Buck's adobe house.
On the floor of the wagon, packed in bunch grass, were the precious gasoline casks. On top of all came the silk waterproof tent and the camp equipage. Stowed under the seat was the box containing spare flags, a heliograph, part of a wireless telephone outfit (the other part was to be carried in the balloon) and compass. Two magazine rifles and ammunition were included in the outfit, and Elmer donned for the first time in his life a belt and holster to carry one of the magazine revolvers that Ned had bought on the day when he first told Alan what he had undertaken to do.
By the time this work was done it was day. Then came breakfast, which Elmer insisted on preparing. He even demanded that he be given time to make hot biscuits. These, with thick slices of broiled ham, the last of their oranges, and hot fragrant coffee constituted the last meal on the Placida.
As the meal came to an end the clump, clump of horses' feet in the sand announced that Buck had arrived and that it was time for breaking the "special car" camp. Alan and Elmer hastened to clean up the little kitchen that had given the boys so many savory meals and to pack up the remaining provisions, and Ned jumped off the car to see Buck.
To the lad's surprise he found Gus, the tramp, just as dirty and just as cheerful as ever, proudly mounted on one of the newly arrived horses. Buck noticed the surprise in Ned's face and explained:
"The helper I thought I could get fell down on me. My boarder's goin' with us. I guess he'll do."
"You understand you don't know where you're going," said Ned, approaching Gus as he rolled off his horse, "nor when you're coming back?"
"I knows dat we ride and dat dere's chuck a-plenty," smiled Gus, "and whichever way it is," he added lowering his voice and chuckling, "can't be no worse dan Buck's place—fur me."
"Do you want to go?"
"Well, I ain't a settin' up nights a longin' to, but to oblige a friend, Mr. Buck, I allowed meself to be persuaded."
"Well, we'll see," said Ned.
Ned rather wanted to watch this young man. Something suggested that the tramp was too quick witted to be made a party to their plans. Ned didn't exactly know what harm the stranger could do them, but he decided to talk it over with Alan. While Buck was hitching up the horses Ned turned to go into the car.
They were loading from the far side opposite the hydrogen cask and as Ned passed the corner of the car he almost ran into the station agent. The agent, who was also the telegraph operator, had a telegram for Ned, which the boy took eagerly. Ned had sent a message to Major Honeywell, telling of their safe arrival, and did not doubt that this was some important afterthought of the Major's. The address ran: "Mr. Ned Napier, Private car Placida, Clarkeville, New Mexico." Tearing open the envelope Ned read:
"Just learned Kansas City Comet has story mysterious trip for government starting Clarkeville. Real object not known. Look out not followed.
"Baldwin Honeywell."
With three jumps Ned was in the car and had pull Alan into the drawing room portion. The telegram was read again and the two boys looked at each other in astonishment.
"How could they?" began Alan.
"No matter how," answered Ned, almost out of breath. "They did and that's enough. Now I know!"
"Know what?"
Ned pushed his chum to the side of the car and pointed outside where Buck and his helper were at work.
"Look at him," he exclaimed.
"At Buck?"
"No. At the tramp who won't wash his face, who has a gentleman's underclothes and who is so anxious to work for us!"
"Well, I see him. But—"
"Haven't you ever seen those sharp eyes before?"
"You don't mean—?"
"I do. If that isn't Bob Russell, the Comet reporter, I'm a goat."
It was a time for quick and fast thinking, and Ned and Alan did it. Alan's instant suggestion that they denounce the disguised tramp was almost as quickly voted down.
"So long as we didn't know who he was he had the advantage of us. Now that we know—" and neither of them now doubted the fact for an instant. "We have the advantage of him," argued Ned. "Let's turn that knowledge to profit. We can easily guess what he is trying to do. Major Honeywell's message says our real object is not known. This reporter has learned something, and I suspect he could have found quite a lot from the train crew. On that he has written a good enough story to attract attention. That shows he is no fool. And he wouldn't come out here unless he had been sent. Who would send him? Why, his paper, of course, to discover our real mission."
"What can we do to head him off?" mused Alan.
"There are two ways," suggested Ned, "and we've got to make one of them effective. I don't know how he has guessed but he must not have another guess. And he's seen a good deal."
"We might have him arrested," suggested Alan.
Ned thought awhile.
"I'll tell you, Alan," he said finally. "The young men of the press to-day may write fanciful stories, and they may even 'fake' where it injures no one, but personally they won't lie. Let's call our tramp in here, confront him with his imposture and give him his choice of writing nothing or of being drummed out of town."
"Who'll make him leave town?"
"Marshal Jack Jellup wouldn't need two suggestions on that score. And more, he'd see that the order was obeyed. I don't like to do it, but I think we're justified. He's taking that chance."
Again the thing was gone over, with arguments for and against, and then Elmer was hastily dispatched to find Jellup and bring him to the car.
"And Buck will lose his helper," laughed Alan.
"Better that than a second expedition on our heels," answered Ned
"Gus!" he called, throwing open a window. "Come in here!"
The tramp soon stood before them.
"Geel Dis is a swell joint," were the tramp's first words as with apparent awkwardness he entered the car.
Ned acted as spokesman.
"You say you've promised Buck to go with him without knowing where you are going?"
"Dat's about de cheese."
"Well, we are willing. But I may as well tell you that this is a secret expedition. If you go you must promise that you will not tell anyone what you see or hear."
The tramp's face suddenly took on a peculiar look, but it was gone as quickly.
"I gives me woid. I won't open me trap to no one."
"Meaning you won't say anything about it?" smiled Ned inquiringly.
"Dat's it. Mum's de woid. I won't open me trap."
"Nor write anything?"
The furtive look came back, this time more pronounced.
"Me to write! Wit wot? Me new typewriter?"
"That isn't an answer. Do you promise, if we send you with Buck, that you'll neither tell nor write nor make known in any way what you learn about what we are doing?"
"Say, look here, boss. Quit yer kiddin'. Me name is Lippe and mebbe I shoot it off a bit too frequent now and then, but you don't need to be afeered o' me peachin' to de udder'Bos.'"
"I'm not afraid of that," continued Ned. "We don't care what you tell all the tramps this side of Kansas City. But we don't want you to print anything more about us in the Comet."
Hardly a flush came on the tramp's face. There was a quick movement of the lips as if he were about to make protest and then he laughed outright.
"Bob Russell," said Ned, also laughing, "would you like the use of our bath tub for a few moments?"
"Would I!" laughed the young reporter rubbing his tinted and smoke begrimed hands together as if to wash them. "Well, I guess I would. My hands are up. What's next?"
"Wash up and we'll see," exclaimed Ned.
The young reporter was still laughing. "And if it isn't too much trouble," he asked, "would you mind if Buck took his check over to the depot and got the suit case that it calls for? Then we'll talk business."
In less than twenty minutes the sun burnt, dirty Gus Lippe had been transformed into the dapper Bob Russell. When he reappeared in fresh linen, outing clothes and a natty straw hat, he was still laughing. Approaching the group in the drawing room, where Marshal Jack Jellup had now arrived, the young reporter took out his pocket book and a five dollar bill.
"I'll pay that back first," he began; and then noticing one of his cards he politely handed it to the marshal. It read:
ROBERT RUSSELL KANSAS CITY COMET
"Ye'r a purty fresh kid," sneered Jellup.
"At your service, Mr. Officer."
Jellup had already received an explanation of the whole affair and was aching to exercise his authority.
"Ye'r an impostor," he began, "and ef ye hadn't been caught, ye'd have taken money on false pretenses. I was onto ye."
"Oh, now," interrupted Bob, "at two dollars Mex per day I'd have given good value."
"Mebbe," retorted the marshal, "but these gentlemen hev come here on particular business and they came like gentlemen. The officials o' this city hev give their word that there shouldn't be no interferin' with their plans. And thet's what you're a-doin'. Now git!"
Ned broke in:
"One moment, Mr. Marshall"
"Oh, that's all right, Mr. Napier," exclaimed the reporter, "he doesn't mean just that. He knows I don't have to leave here so long as I obey the law."
"Ye don't, don't ye?" retorted the marshal. "Well, there ain't no back east law down here. Our law books mebbe got all burnt up. And mebbe I happen to be purty much o' the law myself. Ye'll git and git quick."
Again Ned interfered.
"I suppose if we ask you to permit Mr. Russell to stay here he can," he asked.
"Well, I reckon that would be so. Ef ye ask it I reckon I'll have to," he replied surlily.
Ned and Alan held a brief consultation.
"We have decided to ask the authorities to permit you to remain here on one condition."
The intelligent face of Bob took on a quizzical air as he waited to hear the condition.
"That is," went on Ned, "that you give us your word that you will not make known anything you have seen here, or of our plans so far as you may know them."
Bob's answer was immediate.
"I can't do that," he said, "I was sent here to do just that thing, and as quickly and as fully as I can. You ought to understand, and do, I think, that I have a duty to perform. I've taken the trouble to come all the way out here to get a story. I've got it and of course I'm going to use it. I should be false to my duty, to my employers and to myself if I promised not to do this."
"But you don't know our story."
"And I'm sorry. But I should have known it all if I had had a little better luck."
"Then you won't promise?"
"Decidedly not."
The boys showed that they were as stubborn as he.
"Then we'll see that you learn no more," Alan exclaimed angrily.
Bob smiled. "You can't take away what I already know, and it will take a pretty long story to tell all I am going to guess from what I have seen."
As he spoke his eyes were on Major Honeywell's chart of the Tunit Chas Mountains, which had carelessly been left lying on the table where it had been in use during breakfast in the last explanations to Elmer.
Ned's face reddened in new anger. He did not resent what the young reporter was doing; he even realized that he might do the same thing himself; but he was chagrined to find himself caught in such a simple manner. That was a big piece of additional information for Russell to have, and Ned knew it. Hard as the thing was to do he would at least put the young man out of the way of further discoveries.
"All right," he exclaimed, "we've tried to do the fair and decent thing, and if you want to be stubborn Marshal Jellup can do as he likes."
"Git!"
It was the marshal who spoke and he did so as if it were a pleasure.
"I'll take the Limited west to Gallup at noon," said Russell, "if I can stop it and catch the eastbound train there to-night."
"Then ye'll flag it along the road," shouted Jellup, "fur ye'll get out o' here on foot and in a hurry."
"On foot?" exclaimed Russell in surprise.
"That's what I said an' ye heerd me."
Russell looked in appeal at the two boys.
Ned was mad, and mad all over.
"You are so quick to have your own way," he said, "you can't blame us."
"All right," was the cheery response, "it'll lend a bit of local color to the story. Goodbye, boys. And good luck to you. I'll see you when you come back."
"Remember," said Alan relenting a trifle, "we'll let you stay until we leave if you'll promise to write nothing."
Bob laughed again.
"What good would that do me? No experience means anything to me that I can't turn into copy. And as for walking—I'd walk from here to Kansas City or crawl before I'd lie down on my shop like that."
"Come on, kid, get busy," exclaimed Jellup again. "An' when ye start, don't bother about lingerin', because I'll be hangin' around and I'm good with this at some distance."
As he spoke he drew a Colt 44 and tapped it.
"Never fear, Mr. Jellup," laughed Bob. "I suppose I can express my suit case to the next town?"
"Ye can't do no business in this city, d'ye hear? Now, come on."
"Say, partner," interrupted Bob with his usual good humor, "if you will let me take a snap of you I'll make you celebrated. 'Famous gun man' of New Mexico. It'll be great."
In another moment the nettled marshal had Bob by the shoulder and was whirling him out of the car. On the steps he threw the suit case onto the sandy plain and then pushed the reporter roughly down the steps. Ned and Alan stood, with flushed faces, watching the reporter pick up his hat and suit case. Then young Russell made a remark they could not hear and the marshal's revolver flashed in the air. They could see the boy's face grow pale at last, but as he straightened up the two men disappeared around the freight house.
Like a flash Ned was on the ground and after the marshal and his victim. Alan and Buck came running in the rear, for the alert Buck saw that something was in the air. It was early day and only a straggler or two was in sight at the depot. The sun, already mounting high, foretold a day of depressing heat. The steel lines of the railway stretched interminably eastward toward the first stop forty miles away.
Bob Russell, pale but defiant, stood in the middle of the track, his heavy suit case in his hand.
Suddenly there was the crack of a revolver and the dust flew about the young reporter's feet.
"Jist as a sample!" roared the angered Jellup. "The next one'll be higher up." And his trembling finger pointed down the hot sandy track.
There was nothing more to be done. The pale-faced but nervy reporter turned toward the east and started slowly down the track.
Ned ran forward.
"Russell!" he shouted, "Russell!"
As the reporter paused and turned, hearing his name, there was a second report of the marshal's revolver and Russell's suit case flew from his hand, ripped and torn ragged by a forty-four bullet.
The smoke of the explosion puffed upward and, where it had been, the marshal saw Ned Napier's automatic magazine revolver under his nose.
The boy was white with indignation. The possible serious results that might come to him and his plans meant nothing in his anger at such a dastardly act.
"It isn't a Colt," he said with dry lips, "but, if you make another move like that it's got ten shots and they come out all together."
Jack Jellup, marshal and "bad man," was never more surprised in his life. But Jack was no fool, and something in Ned Napier's eyes made the westerner conclude instantly that he had unexpectedly and unquestionably "barked up the wrong tree." For a few moments the marshal and the young aeronaut stood facing each other and then Jellup sneered:
"Do you reckon you'd better run this town?"
"No, nor you," quietly answered Ned, "and if that's the way you are going to do it you can settle with me right now. I'm going to stand on my rights."
He was conscious that Russell had hurried back and was behind him. Another second and there was a sharp click. Both Jellup and Ned turned to see the nervy young reporter with the torn suit case open on the ground at his feet. A snap shot camera was in his hand. His face was white, but there was a trace of his usual smile on it. Ned wanted to laugh too, but the situation was too serious.
"I've got you both," said Bob, a little nervously, "and if it's a good one I've got a dandy—'shooting up the town or the bad man covered'—"
Had it not been for Ned's lightning-like action these might have been Bob's last words. Jellup's pistol had flashed once more, but as it dew into position Ned's own weapon rose with it under Jellup's right hand and the marshal's shot passed over Bob's head. Before Jellup and Ned could recover themselves Bob's camera was on the ground and the reporter had his own revolver, which he had grabbed quickly from the suit case.
In the center of this group now stood, unarmed, Alan Hope and old Buck. Almost at the same time a dozen men, attracted by the melee, had also intervened and had taken charge of the three excited combatants.
Pushing the crowd right and left appeared the stalwart form of Mayor Curt Bradley, weaponless, but with the stem face of one who gives orders that cannot be ignored.
"Put 'em up, every one of you," he exclaimed; "do ye hear? Put 'em up."
"Ye'r both under arrest," shouted Jellup to Ned and Bob.
There was a quick explanation and then Mayor Bradley, still very stem of face, ordered everybody across the street to his office above the drug store. Men seemed to spring out of the ground, and the room was instantly packed to suffocation. Marshal Jellup made a formal charge against the two boys of "resisting and interfering with an officer" and then each told his story. The decision was immediate. Mayor Bradley ordered that both boys be released and the court be instantly cleared.
Jellup made his way noisily toward the door, his face white with rage. Apparently a number present were his friends and cronies, for the looks of sympathy that he got turned into open murmurs of dissent.
Mayor Bradley was on his feet at once.
"What's the matter?" he began incisively. "Is there some one here who wants to appeal from my decision?"
The hubbub subsided but there wag no response.
"The time to make any complaint about my decision is right now and to me," went on the tall Bradley, looking over those in the room.
But no one apparently cared to take up Jellup's cause. When the spectators had gone the Mayor, who had sternly watched the slow exit of the last loiterer, turned to the boys.
"I thank you, Mr. Bradley," exclaimed Ned earnestly.
"And I want to thank both of you," quickly added Bob Russell, taking the hand of each. "I'm the cause of this and I'm sorry. I guess you saved my life twice," he added, wringing Ned's hand. "If it hadn't been for you the Comet certainly would never have heard from me again. I guess that, puts all my obligation up to you."
"No," said Ned, "I can't let you say that. You have your own duty just as I have mine. We'll go over to the car and wait for the two o'clock Limited. Then you are at liberty to go and write your story and do its you like."
"He don't have to leave," interrupted the Mayor; "this is a free town and it's going to be an orderly one."
"And I'm not going to," broke in Bob. "You've got yourself in a muss over me and some of these soreheads may try to make you more trouble. If you'll let me, I'll stay to the end and if it comes to a mix-up I'm going to be right there with you."
Mayor Bradley smiled and old Buck slapped the reporter on the back.
"But how about the story you say you are going to write about us," asked Alan.
"There wouldn't have been any story if it hadn't been for Mr. Napier," replied Bob. "And there isn't going to be one until he tells me to write it. It's up to him."
Ned was looking out of the window at the curious loungers standing in the street. He was thinking of the work yet to be done and of all the difficulties that the discomfited marshal might put in his way. It wasn't a "picnic proposition." He didn't fear for himself, but the thought of his expensive and delicate outfit and of how easily it might be irreparably injured was not reassuring.
"Russell," he said finally, "I think we need you. If you care to stay with us we'll be glad to have you. It isn't because I don't want to be bluffed by Jellup, but because you are game. If you'll go with Buck and Elmer, I'll try to make it worth your while—some time—and you shall be the historian of this expedition—when the time comes to write its story."
Am hour later the delayed overland expedition was on its way toward the desert. There had been a quick shopping expedition in the stores of Clarkeville and Bob Russell, in a new hat and boots and various other articles of clothing, most of them too large for him, sat proudly on the driver's seat of the second wagon. Around his waist was a new cartridge belt and holster carrying Ned's gift, a 44 revolver—"for game or rattlesnakes," as the boys expressed it, but the weapon was not concealed when the little cavalcade traversed the main street of the town, and if Jellup was an onlooker Ned felt sure that the outwitted marshal would think twice before again molesting the expedition.
"All set," laughed Bob, as the final farewells had been said, and he held up his camera, "now for the real thing."
Ned and Alan were now alone. To tell the truth, the excitement of the morning had been rather trying for them, but if it left them a trifle nervous they soon forgot their apprehension in making the last of the transfer. There was now another reason for abandoning the car. With headquarters established in the corral they would be near the balloon and its equipment, and if Jellup should permit his ill will to develop into some overt act, they would be in a position more easily to protect themselves. For that reason a number of their "greaser" assistants were taken to the car before noon and the hydrogen cask was loaded on the small wagon and carefully freighted to the corral. Then followed the remainder of the provisions and the personal belongings of the boys. Early in the afternoon the Placida was closed and turned over to the railway agent.
When Ned announced to Alan that they would at once unpack and test the motor—"for we might as well stop if the engine isn't right," as he put it—all thoughts of the troubles of the early day vanished. And the motor certainly was a beauty. Though some expert had recommended the French motor, Ned had preferred to use one made in America, not only because he had been able to get it quicker but because he believed it as good as the foreign make.
The engine had eight air-cooled cylinders, in two sets of four, placed at an angle of ninety degrees to each other. The crank case was of aluminum and the shaft of vanadium steel, hollow, and specially treated to insure toughness. All the studs or bolts were of the same steel. Complete, with balance wheel, it weighed two hundred pounds. The ignition was accomplished by six dry batteries and a single-wire vibrating coil. It was rated at fifty horsepower.
So exactly had the preliminary work been done at the factory that in two hours the boys were able to have the engine bolted to the section of the car where it was to be used, and before evening the radiator tubes and pump of the cooling system were also in place. Temporary connections were set up and the sparking wires attached, and then the reservoir was filled with gasoline. A little jar as the wheel was turned, then a couple of sharp explosions, and the engine fell to its work as if it had been running for weeks.
Ned shut it off after a moment's critical inspection.
"Let her flicker!" pleaded Alan. "We've waited so long for a real one that I like to hear her buzz."
"We'll let her buzz when we can use the buzz," laughed Ned. "Gasoline is gasoline, you know."
Night did not stop the work of the eager lads. As soon as they had eaten a light meal, Ned and Alan, with a couple of lanterns and a half dozen of candles, began to adjust the sections of the car. These, seven in number, when joined, were 54.12 feet in length. The American spruce frame and the aluminum joints were all intact. This work finished the day.
Blankets on the rough floor were good enough for the explorers that night. The luxury of the Placida's mattresses and fresh sheets was missed, as was Elmer's skill as a chef when it was time for breakfast the next morning. The boys were not so indifferent about this meal as they had been about that of the evening before. They had no stove, but they took the time to arrange a regular camp in a comer of the corral. A little fire was soon burning, at which they made coffee and toasted some bacon. This, with hardtack and some preserved fruit, they thought was enough, for they were determined not to disturb the carefully packed provisions that were to be carried in the balloon.
"Have you had enough?" asked Ned as the last piece of scorched bacon disappeared.
"Enough?" answered Alan. "A regular banquet!"
Just then there was a loud thump on the closed door of the barn.
"The hands are arriving," explained Ned, and he hastened to open the door.
A few of the workmen were there, but the knocking had been done by a pleasant faced woman—apparently a Mexican. A black shawl covered her head and one arm. It was Mrs. Bourke, Buck's wife.
"I thought," she said smiling, "hungry."
Without further words she threw back the shawl and revealed a small tin pail. The appetizing odor made Ned's mouth water. In the bottom of the bucket were frijoles, or boiled and fried Mexican black beans cooked in pepper, and on top of these were a half dozen smoking hot tortillas or corn cakes.
"Mrs. Buck," exclaimed Alan, "you have saved our lives!"
All recollection of his recent banquet seemed to have disappeared, and so did Mrs. Bourke's bucket of beans and cakes, in double-quick order. The reward was a bright silver dollar for the thoughtful woman and a contract that she should come three times a day and prepare the boys' meals. It would have been easier to have gone to Buck's home, only a short distance away, but the boys were now determined to stay in the corral, or leave it only one at a time. However, they soon developed a taste for Mrs. Bourke's peculiar hot wholesome dishes and these, with what provisions they had on hand, were a fair substitute for Elmer's cooking.
The frijoles having been disposed of, Ned at once went out, and was fortunate in finding a load of rough lumber and a sort of jack-carpenter. With the help of the boys a four foot-high series of "horses" or frames was set up in the center of the corral. This was for the car to rest on while it was being assembled. It was elevated so that the propeller and aeroplanes and rudder could all be tested after being set up. The propeller, 11.48 feet in length, revolved in bearings four feet above the bottom of the car.
After noonday refreshment the middle section of the car, to which the engine was already attached, was carefully lifted into place with the aid of the workmen, and then the laborers were paid off and dismissed—all except the watchmen. From now on there was nothing that the boys could not do themselves, and they wanted to be undisturbed and alone. The putting together of the car was a treat of which they had long dreamed and they were happy in their work.
The remaining sections were easily laid on 'the "horses" and then came the bolts and the bracing with piano wire. When brought together the fifty-four foot long skeleton was in shape much like a cigar. The main frame was six feet high, tapering to five feet at each end. In depth the dimensions were the same. The engine rested on the floor of the middle section and was accessible in all its parts from that compartment. An elevation of the floor in the forward part of this section made it possible for one to stand high enough to have an outlook in all directions through openings in a hooded elevation that projected above the top of the section.
This hood was of a waterproof silk, coated with powdered aluminum, that metal being used because of its semi-incombustibility. This silk also covered the sides of the central compartment, making a wind-, rain- and waterproof cabin. The lookout windows on all four sides were covered with isinglass. The bottom of the framework of the car forward and aft of the engine compartment had a ladder-like flooring of spruce, inserted more for strengthening the car than for service. But on top of the car, reaching from end to end, was a continuous runway two feet wide which could be used in hurriedly visiting either propeller or rudder. This runway was protected by guide ropes of Italian hemp running through posts extended upward from the sides of the car. The top of the engine compartment was completely floored, making a platform 6 x 6.12 feet square. This was surrounded by a protecting network, and Alan named it the "bridge."
A light rope-ladder extended into the engine cabin from an opening in the roof, making the top floor space or bridge and the upper runways quickly accessible. The gasoline reservoir, just forward of the engine, was connected with the bridge by a copper supply pipe. The extra supply of gasoline was to be carried on the bridge in the open air, and lashed to the netting instead of being stored in permanent reservoirs as is the usual practice. This was in order that the empty vessels might be thrown overboard when it was necessary to lighten the balloon.