CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVII.TWO MEN OF THE AIR.The news that all their trouble had gone for naught, and that Jack had himself placed his rescue beyond their hands, struck the three newcomers to the valley dumb for an instant. But at last Captain Atkinson spoke:“Of course, you have not forgotten me, Alvarez?”“That is hardly likely, señor capitan,” rejoined Alvarez, a slight smile playing across his swarthy features; “one does not forget such encounters as our last one.”“So I perceive. But this time you will not escape so easily. You are to consider yourself my prisoner.”The Mexican shrugged his shoulders.“I am not in a position to attempt to escape,” he said resignedly.“How did you come to be in this valley with Jack Merrill?” was the next question.Alvarez, who doubtless saw that his best course was to tell the truth, launched into a fairly accurate account of the adventures on the raft, and the thrilling descent into the Pool of Death. Ralph Stetson shuddered as he listened. Walt looked almost incredulous. It seemed hard to believe that any human being could have “shot” that awful cataract and lived.By this time it was dark, and, as it would have been too dangerous to attempt using the improvised rope ladder at night, Captain Atkinson decided to camp where they were. Alvarez was not bound, as his captors deemed it impossible for him to escape. Instead, he sat around the fire with them, and to anyone not knowing the circumstances he appeared more like a friend or a member of the party than an alien prisoner.But they had not counted on the wily ways of the ex–cattle rustler. Even Captain Atkinson, old plainsman as he was, was completely taken in by the seeming resignation of Alvarez to his fate. For this reason no guard was placed on the man that night. This Captain Atkinson was to regret bitterly some hours later, for, when day dawned, there was no sign of Alvarez.The Ranger guessed the truth at once. Alvarez had overheard their talk about the rope ladder and the ponies which had been left tethered in the grass at the falls. There was not the slightest doubt that he had made use of the ladder in the night, and helped himself to one of the ponies. If he had not taken all three they would be lucky, thought the captain.The boys were anxious to set off in pursuit of the escaped prisoner at once, but Captain Atkinson made them prepare and eat a scanty breakfast first.“Alvarez must be miles away by this time,” hesaid, “that is, provided he made the climb in safety.”After breakfast no time was lost in striking out for the falls. The ladder was just as they had left it, except that one of the cross sticks had snapped, showing that someone must have climbed it in the darkness and missed his footing.“We are at least fortunate that he left the ladder,” said Captain Atkinson. “I had a half–formed fear that he would have destroyed it.”“Surely he would not have done such a dastardly thing as that!” exclaimed Walt.“All is fair in love and war, you know,” rejoined the Captain with a smile, “and Alvarez is at war with us.”“I’m not bothering so much about him,” said Ralph with a sigh, “in fact, I think it was good riddance of bad rubbish to lose him. It’s poor Jack I’m worrying about.”“Let us hope that he has found his way to a settlement and that by this time he is on hisway back to camp,” said Captain Atkinson cheerfully. “Why, it’s even possible that he may get there ahead of us.”The cheery tones of their leader greatly heartened both the lads and the climb up the ladder was made in good spirits. As soon as they reached the surface they hurried to where the ponies had been tethered. Walt and Jack’s animals were both there, but the captain’s had gone. Pinned to one of the saddles was a hastily scribbled note on a bit of paper seemingly torn from an old account book.Captain Atkinson unfolded this missive and read it aloud. It was in Spanish, but he translated as he went along.“Dear Señor Capitan:“Thank you very much for your consideration in leaving me a pony and allowing me a chance to get out of that odious valley. Adios; possibly we may meet again; till which time I am your devoted servant and humble admirer.“Alvarez.”“Well,” laughed the captain, “that’s a characteristic bit of Mexican writing. A man steals your horse and breaks his parole and then signs himself ‘your devoted servant.’”“What’s to be done now?” asked Walt.“We shall have to take turns riding the remaining ponies double. It will make our progress slow, but it is the only thing to be done. Let us lose no more time but saddle up and get started at once.”This was done; and half an hour later the three travelers had left beyond ear–shot the sound of the falls that thundered unceasingly into the Pool of Death.********The boldest of the unclean birds that surrounded Jack’s unconscious form were quite close to him when in the air above, where some others were still wheeling about before descending, there came a sudden disturbance and flapping of wings. High above the highest of thecircling buzzards was what at first appeared to be merely a larger bird of prey. But a second glance would have shown that besides size, this new winged creature possessed many other points of difference from the bird creation. Behind it streaked out a long trail of blue smoke, and it could be seen that seated in it, between the wings, were the figures of two men. It was, in fact, an aeroplane of the biplane type, powerfully engined and commissioned by the Mexican government for use as a scout ship to spy out the haunts of the rebels.Its two occupants were Lieut. José Sancho and Lieut. Manuel Diaz of the Mexican army. They had been flying since daybreak, scouting the country thoroughly in search of information of the rebels’ whereabouts. The great flock of buzzards had attracted their attention, and Lieut. Sancho, who was at the wheel, while his comrade scanned the country through field glasses,had steered the airship in the direction of the great birds.“Can you see anything?” he asked Lieut. Diaz as the airship drove in among the birds, scaring them off with hoarse cries.“Yes. There is something on the ground.”“It must be some dead animal. No human being could have found his way into this miserable desert.”Lieut. Sancho was about to put the airship on its course once more when his brother officer gave a startled exclamation.“By the saints!” he exclaimed, “this is strange.”“What do you mean?”“Why, what attracted those buzzards was no dead steer or horse.”“What then was it?”“The figure of a boy or a man lying face downward.”“Is he dead, do you think?”“It is impossible to tell.”“Shall we descend and see?”“We might as well, although, to speak the truth, I can’t conceive that anyone could have wandered into this desert and lived.”“Nor I. Still it is our duty to find out.”“Undoubtedly. Let us land on that little hillock yonder and then we can make an examination.”Down swooped the great airship, landing without a jar on the bare little hill Lieut. Diaz had mentioned.As soon as the craft touched the ground the two Mexican officers were out of it, and, after attending to the motor, hastened over the sandy soil to Jack’s side.“Santa Maria!It is but a boy,” exclaimed Lieut. Sancho as he turned the inanimate form over.“Todos los Santos, so it is. A fine–lookingfellow, too. But is there any trace of life in him?”For answer Lieut. Sancho shook his head mournfully.“I fear we have come too late,” he said, bending over Jack to try to catch the least flicker of life.CHAPTER XVIII.THE SANDSTORM.His companion produced a tiny mirror, part of a pocket toilet set he carried. Lieut. Sancho took it and held it over Jack’s lips.“Praise the saints, there is still life in him. See!”He held up the mirror for his companion’s inspection. It was blurred faintly, showing that the boy was still breathing.“Get the emergency outfit,” was the next order of the young Mexican officer, and his companion soon produced the required kit from a box under the seat of the military biplane.The kit was the same as used by the armies of most civilized nations. It contained, besides bandages and antiseptics for wounds, stimulants and other drugs. Forcing Jack’s lips open, thelieutenant gave him some stimulant, and was rewarded before long by a faint stirring on the part of the boy.He redoubled his efforts to revive him, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing the boy’s eyes open and stare wildly about him. Not more than ten minutes later Jack was sipping a cup of water and explaining, between gulps, how he came to be in such a predicament. The officers listened with interest and nodded appreciatively as the boy told his story.“This Alvarez is one of the most dangerous of the revolutionaries,” declared Lieut. Sancho. “Since President Madero’s accession he has kept things in the province stirred up in constant turmoil.”“His presence in this part of the country shows that the rebel troops cannot be far off,” struck in Lieut. Diaz, “so that we have to thank our young friend here for some valuable information.”“And I have to thank you for my life,” exclaimed Jack warmly. “I don’t know how to thank you.”“By consenting, if you feel strong enough, to take a ride with us in our aeroplane. What you told us about Alvarez makes me anxious to be off as soon as possible. If he is still in that valley we can capture him, and that will be a crushing blow to the revolutionaries.”Jack had seen aeroplanes before, but never at as close range as this military one. It was painted a dark olive, with wings of a dull gray color, the object being to make it as inconspicuous as possible. It had a powerful six–cylinder motor and was driven by twin propellers. It was built to carry two, but there was room on a folding seat for a third passenger. Jack was told to occupy this extra seat and then Lieut. Sancho and his comrade climbed on board.“Hold tight!” cried Lieut. Sancho as he started his engine.Steady as Jack’s nerves usually were, he felt rather alarmed at the uproar that ensued. From the exhaust pipes of the motor smoke and flame shot viciously. The slender fabric of the aeroplane shook tremulously as the pulsations of the mighty engine racked its frame.But suddenly another sound broke in—a sound that Jack had heard too often before not to recognize it instantly.It was the song of a bullet—the long drawn ze–e–e–ee of a rifle projectile.The two officers were as swift to hear the sound as Jack. Glancing up, the three beheld simultaneously a body of horsemen sweeping down on them from a range of barren–looking hills in the distance. As they rode they fired till a perfect fusilade of bullets was whistling around the aeroplane.They were a wild–looking body of men. Most of them wore the sugar loaf or cone–peaked hat of the Mestizo, and their serapes streamed outin the breeze behind them. Dust and sweat covered their ponies, and a great cloud of gray dust enveloped them.“Viva Alvarez!” they cried as they swept on.Lieut. Sancho saw that to resist them would be hopeless. Instead he devoted all his efforts to starting his motor. At last, just as the foremost of the horsemen were upon them, the aeroplane gave a jump forward and scudded off like a live thing over the crowd.This sudden motion of the great winged man–made bird so terrified the ponies of the rebels, for a detachment of the revolutionists they were, that the little creatures became uncontrollable and dashed off in every direction. All the shouts and curses of their owners failed to rally them, and after running a few hundred feet the aeroplane soared aloft, unharmed except for a few bullet holes in her planes.The sensation was a delightful one. As the bumping motion caused by the run over theground ceased, it felt to Jack as if he was riding on billows of the softest cloud fabric. He had not the slightest fear and watched Lieut. Sancho with interest while he manipulated the various levers and wheels. As they flew the officer showed Jack just how the air craft worked. He even let him take the wheel for an instant, and declared that the boy acquitted himself like a born airman. The aeroplane being fitted with stability devices of automatic construction, it was, of course, possible to do this, where in another sort of air machine it might have been dangerous to allow a novice to handle the control wheel.As they rose higher Jack cast a look back. The country was stretched out like a panorama beneath him. On the plain he could see the detachment of revolutionaries galloping about trying in vain to reform their disorganized ranks.“See if you can point out this wonderful valley of yours,” said Lieut. Diaz presently.Before long Jack sighted the hidden valley which had been the scene of his thrilling climb. He recognized it by the tumbling cascade of water that thundered whitely into the Pool of Death.“There! There it is yonder!” he cried.“It is indeed a wonderful place,” commented Lieut. Sancho as they hovered like a huge eagle above the cliff–walled valley. “If one did not know of it, it would be impossible to discover it.”“Except by airship or by the Pool of Death,” said Jack.Lieut. Sancho finally spied a good place to land and the aeroplane was dropped rapidly into the valley. It settled with hardly a jar or a quiver, much to Jack’s astonishment, who had feared it would collide with the ground with considerable force.“Well, I don’t see anything of your friend Alvarez,” commented Lieut. Sancho, looking about him after they had left the aeroplane.“Nor do I,” commented Jack in a rather astonished tone, “what can have become of him?”“Possibly he has escaped in some way. He is as cunning a fox as there is in the country,” declared Lieut. Diaz.Jack shook his head, however.“There is no chance that he could have gotten out unless he followed my path and I think he was not active enough for that.”“Which way did you get out?” inquired Lieut. Diaz. “Where is that cliff you told us about?”Jack pointed to the frowning precipice he had scaled. The officers, who could hardly be blamed for doubting him, gazed at the boy sharply. But his frank, honest countenance and modest manner of telling his story soon put their suspicions to rout, although Lieut. Diaz frankly confessed:“Señor, you are an American boy, and therefore tell the truth; but from anyone else we should have laughed at the story.”“It was nothing to laugh at, I assure you,” said Jack.“I should imagine not,” agreed Lieut. Sancho, “one would hardly think a fly could find footing on that place.”“Looking up at it now,” said Jack with a laugh, “I myself begin to doubt that I did it.”A systematic search of the valley was begun, and of course ended without result. One thing only was certain, Alvarez had gone. It was a good thing possibly that Jack did not know then the manner of his going, or what part the boy’s own friends had played in it. Had he done so, he would have felt very downcast over the thought of by how narrow a margin he had missed being reunited to them.“Well,” declared Lieut. Diaz as they came to a halt near the Pool of Death, “one thing is as certain as daylight, and that is that in some manner Alvarez has escaped.”“Not a doubt of it. But how?” rejoined hiscompanion. “I confess I am at a complete loss to understand how he effected his release.”“Maybe another aeroplane came along and took him,” suggested Jack. “That is the only thing I can think of.”Entirely mystified, the two officers made arrangements for flight once more. It had been agreed that Jack was to be landed in the Rangers’ camp, or, at any rate, close to it. The prospect of rejoining his friends safe and sound rejoiced the boy, and he was in high spirits when they sat down to partake of lunch before resuming flight.They had concluded their meal when Jack noticed that there was a peculiar look about the sky. From blue it had turned to a yellowish tinge, and the sun glowed through it like a fiery copper ball. He drew the attention of Lieut. Sancho to this, and the young officer and his comrade in arms held a long consultation about the state of the weather.At its conclusion Lieut. Sancho announced that, although the weather appeared threatening, yet they would go up. He explained that he and his companion had to be back at their headquarters in time to report the rebel attack and the near approach of the reactionary forces. If they were to drop Jack on the way, there was no time to be lost.The aeroplane was swiftly tuned up, and when all were on board Lieut. Diaz, who had relieved Lieut. Sancho at the wheel, sent the big craft up with a velocity that made Jack lose his breath. At a height of about two hundred feet a sudden gust struck the air craft, causing it to careen in a most alarming manner. For one dread instant it appeared to Jack that the whole affair was doomed to turn turtle in mid–air; but the stability devices worked just in time.With a clicking and sliding sound the parts that composed the balancing power of themachine slipped into their places and it resumed an even keel.As if to show his perfect mastery of the military dirigible, Lieut. Diaz drove it straight up toward the overcast sky. A fairly stiff wind was now beginning to blow, and to Jack the maneuver appeared risky in the extreme. But, of course, he said nothing, although, looking downward, earth looked fearfully remote. But to the two Mexican officers all this was evidently part of the day’s work. At all events, neither of them displayed the least anxiety; on the contrary, Lieut. Sancho was busy noting the action of the barograph and barometer, and jotting down the results of his observations in a small notebook.All at once Jack, on glancing down, discovered that the earth had been obliterated. A yellow fog, or it seemed to be fog, hid the surface of the country from them. All at once something stinging struck the boy’s face. It was sand.With a gasp of alarm Jack realized that a sandstorm was raging below them. He recalled the one near La Hacheta, in which the lads had seen the flight of the ghostly camels. Seriously alarmed, he drew the attention of his companions to what was going on. By this time, so rapidly had the velocity of the wind increased that it was blowing half a gale, great clouds of sand swept bewilderingly round them. The aeroplane pitched and swayed like a ship in an angry sea. Jack held on tight, thinking that every moment would be likely to be his last.“We did wrong to come up so high,” admitted Lieut. Diaz.“But you are going higher?” objected Jack.“Yes. We must avoid that sand at all hazards. It won’t be so bad higher up, I hope.”“Why not drop to earth right now? It’s all flat country hereabouts,” said Jack.“In the first place, the sand would blind us and we would crash to earth and be wrecked, inall probability. In the second place, if even a little sand got into our engine it would ruin it,” rejoined the officer.Jack said no more. He felt rather ashamed, in fact, of having showed his agitation so plainly. After all, the officers knew far more about aeroplanes than he did, and perhaps there was a chance that they would get through safely yet, He fervently prayed that they might.Lieut. Diaz sat grimly at the wheel, driving the aeroplane ever upward. Jack watched him admiringly. Not a trace of fear or of any other emotion had flickered across his steadfast countenance since the battle with the storm had begun.They had driven their way far above the yellow sand fog and were battling with the wind at an altitude of almost seven thousand feet, when Lieut. Diaz gave a sudden gasp. He turned deadly pale and lurched forward in his seat. Had not Lieut. Sancho caught him, he would havetoppled off into space. The aeroplane, released from a controlling hand, gave a sickening dash downward.“Wha–what has happened?” gasped Jack, genuinely alarmed now.“It’s air sickness! Seize that controlling handle and do just as I tell you. All our lives may depend on it!”CHAPTER XIX.THE BATTLE AT THE SCHOOLHOUSE.Air sickness! With the words there flashed through Jack’s mind a recollection of having read somewhere about that strange malady of the upper regions which sometimes seizes airmen, paralyzing temporarily their every faculty.While the thought was still in his mind he had seized the wheel and awaited the next orders from Lieut. Sancho, who was holding the unconscious form of Lieut. Diaz in the machine.“Push that lever forward—so! Now a twist of your wheel to the left.Bueno!You are a born airman.”Jack wished he could think so, too. From sheer nervousness the sweat stood out upon him, his hands shook and his pulses throbbed.But the consciousness that all their lives dependedupon his keeping cool and obeying orders steadied him. By a supreme effort he mastered his jumping nerves and obeyed the lieutenant’s orders implicitly.To his actual surprise, for he did not think it would have been so easy to handle an air craft, the winged machine righted itself as he manipulated the lever and wheel. Before many seconds it was driving along on an even keel once more. But in its fall it had entered the region of driving sand again. Pitilessly, like needle–pointed hailstones, the sharp grains drove about them, pricking their flesh.“Up! We must go up higher!” cried Lieut. Sancho. “Pull back that lever. Now your wheel to the right—that sets the rising warping appliances! There! That’s it! Now your foot on the engine accelerator! Good! You are an aviator already.”As Jack put the lieutenant’s commands into execution one after another the desired effectwas procured. The aeroplane began to rise, fighting its way up through that inferno of yellow sand. Jack feared that at any moment his eyes would be rendered useless, but he stuck to his task without flinching.At last in the upper regions, they winged along free from the ordeal of the whirling sand spouts, but still in the grasp of the furious wind.“Can we not land?” asked Jack after a time. “Surely it would be safer.”“Safer, doubtless, once we could get to earth; but it would be madness to attempt a landing in this wind.”“Then we must stay up here till the wind subsides?”“Yes, or at least until the sand thins out. We should be blinded if we got into the thick of it, let alone the danger to our engine.”“What speed are we making?” was Jack’s next question.“About fifty miles an hour, possibly more.”“Then we may be driven miles out of our way?”“I fear that is possible. But see, Lieut. Diaz appears to be reviving. Can you reach me that medical kit?”Jack, not without being fearful of the consequences of his taking one hand from the controlling devices, did so. Luckily, as we know, the aeroplane was equipped with the latest stability devices, making her comparatively steady compared to the older fashioned craft of the air. Jack’s maneuver, therefore, was not so risky as might have been thought.While the aeroplane bucked and plunged its way through the storm Lieut. Sancho administered stimulants to Lieut. Diaz, who presently began to recover from his spell of air sickness almost as rapidly as he had been “taken down” with it. It is a peculiarity of such seizures, in fact, that they are not of long duration. Some authorities have held that there are poisonedstrata in the air which cause the sickness and on emerging from them the victim becomes well again. However that may be, Lieut. Diaz was soon himself, and Jack was relieved at the wheel by Lieut. Sancho.“How far do you imagine we have been driven?” he asked as the officer took the wheel.“That is impossible to say,amigoJack. I directed you while you were in control of the ship so that as far as possible we should maneuver in circles. Judging by that, we ought not to be much more than fifty miles or so out of our way.”This was cheering news to Jack, who had begun to imagine that they had been driven half way to the Gulf of Mexico at least. As this would have meant a lot of delay in rejoining his comrades, he was naturally worried. For an hour or so more they swung in circles above the storm, and then the furious gale began to lessen.As the wind fell the sand “fog” below began to melt away just as if it had actually been mist. Its dissolving brought a view of a stretch of country not unlike that in which the Rangers had been camped when Jack had last seen them.Below them shone the river between its precipitous banks, and on one side of it Jack could see a small, rough–looking settlement. On the outskirts was a low red building, the shape and form of which at once showed it to be a schoolhouse, even if the Stars and Stripes had not been floating on a pole before the door. The aeroplane was still hovering in the air above the little settlement when the schoolhouse door opened and out rushed teacher and pupils in evident excitement. They gazed upward at the winged man–bird in a state of the greatest wonderment.Suddenly from across the river came a perfect tempest of shots and yells. Looking down, Jack saw that a body of horsemen was galloping fordear life toward the ford at the river. Close behind them came some more mounted men, although the latter were dressed in uniforms, suggesting that they were regulars. Evidently they were in pursuit of the ragged–looking Mestizos who were making for the ford.On they came at a furious gallop. Gazing from above, Lieut. Sancho announced that the band being pursued was a band of rebels, while the men in pursuit were part of the regular cavalry of the Mexican government.“But they are fleeing on to American soil!” exclaimed Jack.“Si, señor Jack. Evidently the rascally rebels think that if they can gain the protection of the Stars and Stripes they will be safe.”Jack could not help feeling sympathy for the ragged band that was being so remorselessly pursued, even though he knew that the rebels had wrought all sorts of outrages, both on American soil and in their own country. For instance,only a short time before a band of cattle had been driven from an American ranch to feed the starving revolutionary troops.But such thoughts as these were soon interrupted by the boy’s absorbed interest in the drama taking place far below them. From the town a few men had come running at the sound of the shooting, but as they saw the armed men come sweeping through the ford they beat a hasty retreat. Only the school teacher, a pretty young girl, so far as Jack could see, and her little flock stood their ground.Having crossed the ford the pursued Mestizos did not draw rein. Instead, they urged their ponies on still more furiously. The clatter of their hoofs even reached to the aeroplane, which was swinging about in the blue ether some thousands of feet above.All at once Jack, with a quick intake of his breath, divined their purpose. The hounded band of revolutionaries was spurring and lashing forthe schoolhouse. Their evident purpose was to seek refuge within it, under the protection of Old Glory.But what of the children and their young teacher? In case there should be firing, their position would be a terrible one. As the first of the rebel band dashed into the schoolhouse enclosure and the teacher and her pupils fled within in terror, Jack begged Lieut. Sancho to descend.“In case the Federals open fire on the schoolhouse many of those children will be killed,” he cried anxiously.Lieut. Sancho nodded.“I doubt if we can be of much use,” he said, “but at any rate we will drop down and see what can be done.”The aeroplane instantly began to descend, but before it was half way down the last of the refugees had dashed into the schoolhouse, and the door was slammed to and bolted. The Federals,close on the fugitives’ heels, withdrew to a short distance for a parley when they perceived this. From the schoolhouse windows a few scattering shots followed them, but none of them took effect.But the men who had done the shooting had perceived the approach of the aeroplane, which was now quite close to the ground. It was probably the first they had ever seen and they gazed at it with awe and some superstitious terror.“What do you want?” called one of them.“What shall we tell them?” Lieut. Sancho whispered to Jack.“Tell them to let the teacher and her scholars out of there at once or we will dynamite the place,” replied Jack without hesitation.“I’ll tell them that if they don’t, we shall drop a bomb from the aeroplane,” whispered the lieutenant.“That’s a good idea. Let’s hope it will scarethem into releasing the children and their teacher.”Lieut. Sancho shouted his ultimatum at the men at the schoolhouse windows, at the same time leaning down as if to pick up some sort of weapon. Doubtless the unfamiliarity of such a war machine as an aeroplane had something to do with it; but at any rate, after some anxious deliberation, during which the aeroplane hovered at closer range, the door was opened and the teacher and her little flock emerged.“Now run to the town. Run for your lives,” cried Jack as they came out, and the pretty girl and her pupils were not slow to obey the injunction.In the meantime the Federals, withdrawn to a little distance, had viewed the operations with amazement. They had been too much excited by the chase to notice the aeroplane till it was at close range. Now they gazed at it with wonder and then broke into a cheer. At first Jack wasastonished at this enthusiasm, but then he suddenly recollected that inscribed on the machine’s upper and lower planes were the arms of the Mexican Republic.“Viva! Viva, Madero!” yelled the regulars, as the aeroplane swung above them.“What are you going to do with those rascals in the schoolhouse?” yelled down Lieut. Sancho to the officer in charge of the Federals as the great winged machine sailed majestically by over their heads.“Assault the place and capture it,” was the reply.“You forget that it is on American territory and that our government will be liable for any outrages inflicted on this side of the Border,” was the rejoinder. “I will guarantee to get them out of there in far more peaceable fashion.”“Very well, señor lieutenant, as you will,” was the reply of the officer, given with a shrug of the shoulders.“Well, I wonder what’s going to happen now?” thought Jack as the aeroplane was headed back at top speed for the schoolhouse.“Diaz, will you do me the favor to get that round black bottle out of the medicine kit?” said Lieut. Sancho in calm tones as he guided the air craft toward the stronghold and retreat of the rebel force.CHAPTER XX.WHERE STRATEGY WON OUT.Their coming was viewed by a dozen swarthy faces thrust out of the schoolhouse windows. As the aeroplane drew near the building Lieut. Sancho raised his voice above the humming of the engine.In a loud authoritative tone he called for attention.“If that schoolhouse is not vacated inside of five minutes,” he snapped out, “I shall dynamite it.”A derisive chorus of yells greeted this, although a few voices could be heard begging the officer to have mercy.“Hand me that ‘bomb,’ Diaz,” ordered the officer as the aeroplane came in full view of the schoolhouse.Seizing this opportunity, Lieut. Sancho manipulated the air craft with one hand while he apparently examined the “bomb” with deep attention. He took good care while doing this to handle it so that it might be plainly seen by the Mestizos.The aeroplane continued its flight above the schoolhouse roof, and then, swinging round, was driven back again. As they came over for the second time Lieut. Sancho hailed the recalcitrants once more.“Throw your rifles and weapons out of the windows or I’ll drop the bomb. The five minutes is almost up.”This time there was no answer but a sullen roar. Apparently the occupants of the schoolhouse were quarreling among each other. The aeroplane was flown a short distance and then turned for another flight toward the schoolhouse.“Here, take the wheel, Diaz,” ordered Lieut.Sancho. “I’m going to let them see that we mean business.”With Lieut. Diaz at the wheel, his brother officer manipulated the “bomb” in truly alarming manner. Bending low over it and striking a match, he appeared to light its fuse. Then, holding on to a brace, he half rose out of his seat, and as they neared the schoolhouse he raised his arm as if poising the “bomb” before hurling it.It was too much for the nerves of the besieged. With wild cries to Lieut. Sancho not to kill them, they began casting their rifles and revolvers out of the windows in a perfect hail. Lieut. Sancho appeared to stay his hand, but was still menacing.“Todos! Todos!” (“All! All!”)He shouted this as they thundered close above the schoolhouse roof. As he did so the schoolhouse door was opened and out rushed the terrified, demoralized Mestizos, who were swiftly made prisoners by the Federals without their offering more than a nominal resistance.By the time the last had been captured, while the aeroplane drew close to the scene, from the town, whence the proceedings had been watched with interest, several citizens came running, now that all the danger of bullets seemed to be past.“Well, after what I’ve seen,” declared Jack, “never tell me that the aeroplane isn’t any good in warfare. To–day it averted what might have been a bloody fight, and, as it was, not a man was even scratched, except in his feelings. By the way, Lieutenant, what was in that ‘bomb’?”“A very deadly mixture,” laughed the officer in return, “a solution of Epsom salts!”“Here I be, the mayor of that thar berg back thar,” said an individual with a bristly straw–colored mustache, hastening up. “What be all these here connipations a–goin’ on out hyar?”“Why, Mr. Mayor,” rejoined Jack, “these two gentlemen are officers of the Mexican Federal troops detailed to aerial duty.”“Waal, what be they doin’ this side of therBorder? I’ve a good mind ter put ’em in ther calaboose, the dern long–horns,” declared the mayor angrily.“Inasmuch as they saved a lot of children and their teacher from rough treatment by a band of rebels, I don’t think that would be very fair,” said Jack.“Humph!” grunted the mayor, “I was comin’ out hyar to git ther mavericks on ther run myself, but I had an attack of indigestion.”“I guess that was when you heard the shooting,” thought Jack to himself.Aloud, though, he continued:“The Mestizos were captured by as clever a ruse as can be imagined, Mr. Mayor.”“Eh, how’s that, young feller?”“By a bottle of Epsom salts.”“Say, see here, kid, it ain’t healthy ter git funny with yer elders in these hyar parts.”“It’s the exact truth, I assure you,” declared Jack smilingly, quite ignoring the mayor’s frown.He went on to tell the full details of the fight, or rather the argument, and when he had finished not one of the assembled crowd was there that did not join in the laugh.“An’ how did you come to be hyar, young feller?” asked the mayor at the conclusion of Jack’s story. “You beant a greaser.”“No, but I have found that there are a few brave and clever men on the other side of the line, too,” declared Jack.“Ther kid’s right,” assented one or two in the crowd.Jack then told as much of his adventures as he thought necessary, and at the conclusion the delighted mayor clapped him on the back so heartily that the breath was almost driven out of his body.“I’ll give yer all ther liberty of Go ’long,” he said, sweeping his hand back toward his little principality.But the two Mexican officers were obliged torefuse the mayor’s hospitality. A short time after the Federal troops had departed with their prisoners of war the two airmen winged their way southward to their headquarters.As for Jack, he had ascertained that San Mercedes was only twenty miles or so off, so he determined to hire a horse and ride over there early in the morning. That night he slept in a bed for the first time in many long hours, and with his anxieties cleared away and his heart light, his slumbers were deep and dreamless. He was awakened by the ubiquitous mayor, who was also the hotel–keeper. Incidentally, the pretty school teacher turned out to be his daughter. Her enthusiastic praises of Jack the night before had made the boy blush hotly, but that was nothing to his embarrassment a few moments later when the town band, consisting of a cornet and a drum, headed a procession to the hotel and he had been compelled to give a speech.Jack felt glad on waking that all that was over,and that in a short time he would be on his way back to his friends in the camp of the Rangers. The town of Go ’long did not offer much in the way of a menu beyond blackstrap and hot cakes, beans, bacon and black coffee, but Jack made a hearty meal on these frontier delicacies, after which he was informed that his pony was at the door.His landlord, whose name, by the way, was Jerry Dolittle, refused to take a cent from the boy, and told him that when the Rangers came that way next his old friend, Captain Atkinson, could return him the pony.The greater part of the population of Go ’long had accompanied Jack about a mile on his way, but soon he was ambling along alone with a straight road in front of him. Naturally his mind was busy with speculations as to what had occurred in the camp during his long absence from it.“Good old Walt! Dear old Ralph! Won’tthey be glad to see me!” he mused as he rode along across the plains; “won’t I be glad to see them, too! Gracious, what a lot we shall have to talk about! I won’t blame them if they don’t believe half of it. I can hardly believe it myself sometimes, and that’s a fact.”Between San Mercedes and Go ’long the rough road led through one of those peculiarly desolate ranges of hills common in that part of our country. As Jack’s pony began to mount into the recesses of these gloomy, barren hills, the lad knew that he had come a dozen miles or so from the Go ’long hotel.The road wound along the bottom of the steep, sandy gullies, which were in some places streaked gorgeously with strata of various colors, red, blue and bright orange. Above burned a sky of brilliant blue. It would have made a splendid subject for the canvas of an impressionistic painter.Jack knew that somewhere within these hillshe ought to meet the daily stage that ran between San Mercedes and Go ’long. At least, such had been the information given him before he set out from the latter place. He was quite anxious to see it, as on his lonely ride he had not encountered a human face. The solitary nature of the barren hills through which he was now riding depressed him, too, with a sense of remoteness and lonesomeness.As Jack rode he commented to himself on the rugged character of the scenery. The road, which would have hardly been dignified with the name of a trail in the east, crawled along the side of the bare hills, in some places overhanging gloomy canyons.“This must be a dangerous place to drive a stage,” thought Jack as he passed by a big rock and found himself traversing a bit of road which bordered the edge of a mountain spur, with a precipice on one side and a deep canyon on the other.In fact, had the lad known it, that particular bit of road was reputed to be about the worst even in that wild land. Should the horses make a misstep on the trail, instant death to every occupant of the coach must result.There were few drivers, even the most reckless, that cared to go at more than a snail’s pace over that stretch of road even with the quietest team. True, the passage had been made on one occasion at night, but that was for a wild and foolish bet and the authorities had put a stop to any more such practices. So that Jack was not far out when he mentally appraised that bit of road as being as dangerous and nasty a track to negotiate as he had ever seen; and Jack had seen a good deal of the wild southwest.The boy had passed the dangerous bit of road and was jogging along in a deep divide between two ranges, when he was startled by a sudden sound right ahead of him.It was unmistakably a shot.A rifle shot, too, the boy judged. He spurred forward rapidly, not knowing well just what to expect when he should round a curve in the road just ahead.It did flash into his mind that his landlord at Go ’long had spoken of the coach being held up occasionally, but Jack had placed little stock in the stories. In fact, he rather inclined to think that old Jerry was telling them with the idea of getting a rise out of a Tenderfoot.Still, there were a few mines in that part of the country and occasionally gold was shipped through to Go ’long, which was not far from the main line of the Southern Pacific Railroad.But Jack had only made a few paces forward on his quickened mount when three other shots rang out in rapid succession.“Now I am perfectly sure there is trouble on the trail ahead!” exclaimed Jack to himself, urging his pony forward at a yet faster gait.The idea of personal danger did not enterJack’s head, although the scene that he beheld as he swept round the curve on his galloping pony might well have alarmed an older hand than he.Coming toward him at a hard gallop was the Go ’long coach. Its six horses were in a lather of perspiration, and the coach was swaying wildly from side to side.From the top of the coach a fusilade was being fired at three men in pursuit of the vehicle. These latter appeared to be returning the fire with good will.At almost the same moment that his eye took in these details Jack became aware that, besides the driver of the stage, there were three other occupants on the roof.These were Captain Atkinson of the Rangers, Ralph Stetson and Walt Phelps.As he perceived all this Jack drew his pony back on his haunches and waited whatever might turn up, for it was his determination to aid his friends.CHAPTER XXI.THE STAGE HOLD–UP.Suddenly Jack saw the driver lurch forward in his seat. Perhaps he had been killed, perhaps he was only badly injured.Instantly Jack’s mind was made up. Snatching off his hat, he waved it about his head.At the same time he turned in his saddle and yelled back down the trail, as if a numerous band was coming round the turn:“Come on, boys! Hurry up and we’ll get them!”The pursuers of the coach stopped suddenly. Then they wheeled their ponies about and dashed off at top speed. Jack’s ruse had succeeded. Evidently the highwaymen thought that a large body of horsemen was behind Jack. At any rate,they deemed it more prudent not to wait to find out.But only one serious aspect of the situation was relieved by the abrupt departure of the highwaymen. The limp form of the coachman hung on the box, almost toppling off the seat. The lines had dropped from his hands and lay on the backs of the terrified wheelers. On they came, thundering at runaway speed, while Jack hesitated, his mind full of the thought of that dangerous bit of road that lay ahead.He shouted up to his companions on the roof:“Hullo, boys! I’m with you again!”There was a yell of joy. An answer to his hail came quickly.“Jack Merrill, by all that’s wonderful!”“Jack! How under the sun did he get here!”“It’s Jack on deck again as usual!”But Jack heard none of these joyous exclamations. He had turned his horse almost on its haunches, owing to the narrowness of the trail.In one swift flash of inspiration he had made up his mind as to the course he would pursue in checking the runaways.He spurred his pony alongside the wheelers, crying out in as soothing a tone as he could:“Whoa, boys! Whoa, there!”But the terrified animals paid no attention to him, nor had he much expected that they would. He only spoke to them in order that he might not frighten them worse when he spurred his pony alongside them.He might have ridden in front of them, but the risk of causing them to swerve and precipitate the whole coach from the trail was too great. The most dangerous part of the road lay about a mile ahead. If only he could check the team before they reached it, all might be well; if not—well, Jack did not dare to think of what would be the consequences in such a case. Thus began a mad, dangerous ride, a ride of grave risk to the daring young Border Boy.Of one thing he was thankful—the pony under him was a sure–footed, fast little beast, and perfectly broken, a rare thing in that part of our country. This made it possible for Jack to loop his own reins about the saddle horn and then, leaning out of the saddle, to seize the lines which the wounded driver had dropped.This done, he began to pull gently on them, taking care not to terrify the runaways further by jerking on their bits. Bracing himself in his stirrups, Jack exerted a steady pressure on the reins, at the same time using every means he knew of to soothe the maddened beasts.“Good boy, Jack! Good boy!” breathed Captain Atkinson from the roof of the coach, while he lifted the stricken stage driver to a place of safety. “Boys, Jack will save us yet,” he added, turning to his young companions.“You can bet on him every time,” came admiringly from Ralph. “He’ll conquer them yet.”But had Ralph known of the danger place thatlay not so far ahead now, he might not have been so confident.“Put on the brake!” Jack shouted back over his shoulder as they tore along that dangerous trail.“Bless my soul! Why didn’t I think of that?” exclaimed Captain Atkinson.Handing the driver over to the care of the boys, he clambered into the former’s seat, and, placing his foot on the heavy California–style brake, he jammed it down with all his force.“Good!” cried Jack as the wheels screeched and groaned.The horses appeared more terrified than ever at the racket made by the brake, but it was strong enough to check their speed perceptibly, struggle as they would.A short distance further came a little rise, beyond which lay the dangerous spot that Jack dreaded. The rise completed what the brake had begun.“They’re slackening speed, Jack!” cried Captain Atkinson.“They are, indeed!” hurled back Jack. “I think I’ll have them under control in a jiffy.”Jack’s words came true, but none too soon. A few seconds more and they would have reached the curve, beyond which lay the bit of narrow road. A thrill ran through Jack’s frame as he drew tight on the reins and felt the tired animals slow up to a trot and then, obedient to his voice, come to a halt, sweating and trembling, with distended nostrils.Jack lost no time in riding round to the heads of the leaders and holding tightly on to them. But there was little fight left in the horses. Dragging the coach with its locked brake up that hill had thoroughly exhausted them; they seemed glad to rest.“Get out, boys!” shouted Jack. “Come and give me a hand to uncouple the traces. I don’tthink they’ll run again, but we won’t take chances.”In an instant Ralph Stetson and Walt Phelps had sprung to the ground and one on either side of the coach were running forward to help Jack complete one of the bravest tasks a boy ever set himself to perform.Naturally, it was not till the horses were calmed down that they had a chance to talk. In the meantime the stage driver, whose name was Jed Hoster, had been revived and was found to be painfully but not seriously injured. He had been shot through the shoulder.We are not going to relate all that took place at that odd reunion in the heart of the Ragged Range, as the barren hills were called. Every one of my readers can picture for himself what a confusion of tongues reigned as the boys all tried to talk at once, and relate their many adventures since last they had met.After awhile the coach, with Captain Atkinsonat the “ribbons” and Jack riding close alongside, was driven to a broad part of the road and then turned around, as San Mercedes was closer to the spot where the attack had occurred than was Go ’long.Captain Atkinson told the boys that he had not the least idea who the men that made the attack could have been, but surmised that they must have possessed information that the coach was carrying a consignment of gold dust from a desert mine for shipment at Go ’long.“Had it not been for your smart trick, Jack,” he declared, “we should never have got off as easily as we did.”A sharp lookout was kept all the way back to San Mercedes for another sight of the would–be robbers. But nothing more was seen of them, and the return journey was made without incident. There was much rejoicing in the camp of the Rangers over the safe return of Jack, andeven Shorty appeared to be glad that the boy had come unscathed through so many perils.That was a gala night in camp. Songs and stories filled the time till far into the night. The three boys, who possessed remarkably good voices, sang several popular songs and were much applauded. At last they had to stop from sheer weariness.Each lad was anxious to go out on duty along the Rio Grande that same evening, but Captain Atkinson sternly forbade them doing so.“You turn into your blankets and get a good sleep,” he ordered. “I’ve got another job on hand for you to–morrow and I want you to be fresh when you tackle it.”Much mystified and not a little excited at these words, the boys obediently turned in and were soon sound asleep. They were astir bright and early the next morning—just as the last patrol of the night was coming in, in fact. The nighthad been an eventless one, they learned, the rebels having given no sign of their presence.Soon after breakfast Captain Atkinson approached the boys, who were polishing up their saddles and bits, accompanied by a tall, bronze–bearded man, whose tanned skin and keen gray eyes bespoke him a dweller in the open places.“This is Mr. Lionel Reeves, the rancher, of whom you may have heard,” he said. “Mr. Reeves, these are the lads of whom I spoke to you.”“I am sure you could not have picked better young fellows for the task you wish accomplished,” spoke Mr. Reeves, shaking hands warmly with each of the boys in turn. “By the way, do they know about it?”“Not yet,” rejoined Captain Atkinson, with a smile at the eager looks that three pairs of eyes turned on him.

CHAPTER XVII.TWO MEN OF THE AIR.The news that all their trouble had gone for naught, and that Jack had himself placed his rescue beyond their hands, struck the three newcomers to the valley dumb for an instant. But at last Captain Atkinson spoke:“Of course, you have not forgotten me, Alvarez?”“That is hardly likely, señor capitan,” rejoined Alvarez, a slight smile playing across his swarthy features; “one does not forget such encounters as our last one.”“So I perceive. But this time you will not escape so easily. You are to consider yourself my prisoner.”The Mexican shrugged his shoulders.“I am not in a position to attempt to escape,” he said resignedly.“How did you come to be in this valley with Jack Merrill?” was the next question.Alvarez, who doubtless saw that his best course was to tell the truth, launched into a fairly accurate account of the adventures on the raft, and the thrilling descent into the Pool of Death. Ralph Stetson shuddered as he listened. Walt looked almost incredulous. It seemed hard to believe that any human being could have “shot” that awful cataract and lived.By this time it was dark, and, as it would have been too dangerous to attempt using the improvised rope ladder at night, Captain Atkinson decided to camp where they were. Alvarez was not bound, as his captors deemed it impossible for him to escape. Instead, he sat around the fire with them, and to anyone not knowing the circumstances he appeared more like a friend or a member of the party than an alien prisoner.But they had not counted on the wily ways of the ex–cattle rustler. Even Captain Atkinson, old plainsman as he was, was completely taken in by the seeming resignation of Alvarez to his fate. For this reason no guard was placed on the man that night. This Captain Atkinson was to regret bitterly some hours later, for, when day dawned, there was no sign of Alvarez.The Ranger guessed the truth at once. Alvarez had overheard their talk about the rope ladder and the ponies which had been left tethered in the grass at the falls. There was not the slightest doubt that he had made use of the ladder in the night, and helped himself to one of the ponies. If he had not taken all three they would be lucky, thought the captain.The boys were anxious to set off in pursuit of the escaped prisoner at once, but Captain Atkinson made them prepare and eat a scanty breakfast first.“Alvarez must be miles away by this time,” hesaid, “that is, provided he made the climb in safety.”After breakfast no time was lost in striking out for the falls. The ladder was just as they had left it, except that one of the cross sticks had snapped, showing that someone must have climbed it in the darkness and missed his footing.“We are at least fortunate that he left the ladder,” said Captain Atkinson. “I had a half–formed fear that he would have destroyed it.”“Surely he would not have done such a dastardly thing as that!” exclaimed Walt.“All is fair in love and war, you know,” rejoined the Captain with a smile, “and Alvarez is at war with us.”“I’m not bothering so much about him,” said Ralph with a sigh, “in fact, I think it was good riddance of bad rubbish to lose him. It’s poor Jack I’m worrying about.”“Let us hope that he has found his way to a settlement and that by this time he is on hisway back to camp,” said Captain Atkinson cheerfully. “Why, it’s even possible that he may get there ahead of us.”The cheery tones of their leader greatly heartened both the lads and the climb up the ladder was made in good spirits. As soon as they reached the surface they hurried to where the ponies had been tethered. Walt and Jack’s animals were both there, but the captain’s had gone. Pinned to one of the saddles was a hastily scribbled note on a bit of paper seemingly torn from an old account book.Captain Atkinson unfolded this missive and read it aloud. It was in Spanish, but he translated as he went along.“Dear Señor Capitan:“Thank you very much for your consideration in leaving me a pony and allowing me a chance to get out of that odious valley. Adios; possibly we may meet again; till which time I am your devoted servant and humble admirer.“Alvarez.”“Well,” laughed the captain, “that’s a characteristic bit of Mexican writing. A man steals your horse and breaks his parole and then signs himself ‘your devoted servant.’”“What’s to be done now?” asked Walt.“We shall have to take turns riding the remaining ponies double. It will make our progress slow, but it is the only thing to be done. Let us lose no more time but saddle up and get started at once.”This was done; and half an hour later the three travelers had left beyond ear–shot the sound of the falls that thundered unceasingly into the Pool of Death.********The boldest of the unclean birds that surrounded Jack’s unconscious form were quite close to him when in the air above, where some others were still wheeling about before descending, there came a sudden disturbance and flapping of wings. High above the highest of thecircling buzzards was what at first appeared to be merely a larger bird of prey. But a second glance would have shown that besides size, this new winged creature possessed many other points of difference from the bird creation. Behind it streaked out a long trail of blue smoke, and it could be seen that seated in it, between the wings, were the figures of two men. It was, in fact, an aeroplane of the biplane type, powerfully engined and commissioned by the Mexican government for use as a scout ship to spy out the haunts of the rebels.Its two occupants were Lieut. José Sancho and Lieut. Manuel Diaz of the Mexican army. They had been flying since daybreak, scouting the country thoroughly in search of information of the rebels’ whereabouts. The great flock of buzzards had attracted their attention, and Lieut. Sancho, who was at the wheel, while his comrade scanned the country through field glasses,had steered the airship in the direction of the great birds.“Can you see anything?” he asked Lieut. Diaz as the airship drove in among the birds, scaring them off with hoarse cries.“Yes. There is something on the ground.”“It must be some dead animal. No human being could have found his way into this miserable desert.”Lieut. Sancho was about to put the airship on its course once more when his brother officer gave a startled exclamation.“By the saints!” he exclaimed, “this is strange.”“What do you mean?”“Why, what attracted those buzzards was no dead steer or horse.”“What then was it?”“The figure of a boy or a man lying face downward.”“Is he dead, do you think?”“It is impossible to tell.”“Shall we descend and see?”“We might as well, although, to speak the truth, I can’t conceive that anyone could have wandered into this desert and lived.”“Nor I. Still it is our duty to find out.”“Undoubtedly. Let us land on that little hillock yonder and then we can make an examination.”Down swooped the great airship, landing without a jar on the bare little hill Lieut. Diaz had mentioned.As soon as the craft touched the ground the two Mexican officers were out of it, and, after attending to the motor, hastened over the sandy soil to Jack’s side.“Santa Maria!It is but a boy,” exclaimed Lieut. Sancho as he turned the inanimate form over.“Todos los Santos, so it is. A fine–lookingfellow, too. But is there any trace of life in him?”For answer Lieut. Sancho shook his head mournfully.“I fear we have come too late,” he said, bending over Jack to try to catch the least flicker of life.

TWO MEN OF THE AIR.

The news that all their trouble had gone for naught, and that Jack had himself placed his rescue beyond their hands, struck the three newcomers to the valley dumb for an instant. But at last Captain Atkinson spoke:

“Of course, you have not forgotten me, Alvarez?”

“That is hardly likely, señor capitan,” rejoined Alvarez, a slight smile playing across his swarthy features; “one does not forget such encounters as our last one.”

“So I perceive. But this time you will not escape so easily. You are to consider yourself my prisoner.”

The Mexican shrugged his shoulders.

“I am not in a position to attempt to escape,” he said resignedly.

“How did you come to be in this valley with Jack Merrill?” was the next question.

Alvarez, who doubtless saw that his best course was to tell the truth, launched into a fairly accurate account of the adventures on the raft, and the thrilling descent into the Pool of Death. Ralph Stetson shuddered as he listened. Walt looked almost incredulous. It seemed hard to believe that any human being could have “shot” that awful cataract and lived.

By this time it was dark, and, as it would have been too dangerous to attempt using the improvised rope ladder at night, Captain Atkinson decided to camp where they were. Alvarez was not bound, as his captors deemed it impossible for him to escape. Instead, he sat around the fire with them, and to anyone not knowing the circumstances he appeared more like a friend or a member of the party than an alien prisoner.

But they had not counted on the wily ways of the ex–cattle rustler. Even Captain Atkinson, old plainsman as he was, was completely taken in by the seeming resignation of Alvarez to his fate. For this reason no guard was placed on the man that night. This Captain Atkinson was to regret bitterly some hours later, for, when day dawned, there was no sign of Alvarez.

The Ranger guessed the truth at once. Alvarez had overheard their talk about the rope ladder and the ponies which had been left tethered in the grass at the falls. There was not the slightest doubt that he had made use of the ladder in the night, and helped himself to one of the ponies. If he had not taken all three they would be lucky, thought the captain.

The boys were anxious to set off in pursuit of the escaped prisoner at once, but Captain Atkinson made them prepare and eat a scanty breakfast first.

“Alvarez must be miles away by this time,” hesaid, “that is, provided he made the climb in safety.”

After breakfast no time was lost in striking out for the falls. The ladder was just as they had left it, except that one of the cross sticks had snapped, showing that someone must have climbed it in the darkness and missed his footing.

“We are at least fortunate that he left the ladder,” said Captain Atkinson. “I had a half–formed fear that he would have destroyed it.”

“Surely he would not have done such a dastardly thing as that!” exclaimed Walt.

“All is fair in love and war, you know,” rejoined the Captain with a smile, “and Alvarez is at war with us.”

“I’m not bothering so much about him,” said Ralph with a sigh, “in fact, I think it was good riddance of bad rubbish to lose him. It’s poor Jack I’m worrying about.”

“Let us hope that he has found his way to a settlement and that by this time he is on hisway back to camp,” said Captain Atkinson cheerfully. “Why, it’s even possible that he may get there ahead of us.”

The cheery tones of their leader greatly heartened both the lads and the climb up the ladder was made in good spirits. As soon as they reached the surface they hurried to where the ponies had been tethered. Walt and Jack’s animals were both there, but the captain’s had gone. Pinned to one of the saddles was a hastily scribbled note on a bit of paper seemingly torn from an old account book.

Captain Atkinson unfolded this missive and read it aloud. It was in Spanish, but he translated as he went along.

“Dear Señor Capitan:“Thank you very much for your consideration in leaving me a pony and allowing me a chance to get out of that odious valley. Adios; possibly we may meet again; till which time I am your devoted servant and humble admirer.“Alvarez.”

“Dear Señor Capitan:

“Thank you very much for your consideration in leaving me a pony and allowing me a chance to get out of that odious valley. Adios; possibly we may meet again; till which time I am your devoted servant and humble admirer.

“Alvarez.”

“Well,” laughed the captain, “that’s a characteristic bit of Mexican writing. A man steals your horse and breaks his parole and then signs himself ‘your devoted servant.’”

“What’s to be done now?” asked Walt.

“We shall have to take turns riding the remaining ponies double. It will make our progress slow, but it is the only thing to be done. Let us lose no more time but saddle up and get started at once.”

This was done; and half an hour later the three travelers had left beyond ear–shot the sound of the falls that thundered unceasingly into the Pool of Death.

********

The boldest of the unclean birds that surrounded Jack’s unconscious form were quite close to him when in the air above, where some others were still wheeling about before descending, there came a sudden disturbance and flapping of wings. High above the highest of thecircling buzzards was what at first appeared to be merely a larger bird of prey. But a second glance would have shown that besides size, this new winged creature possessed many other points of difference from the bird creation. Behind it streaked out a long trail of blue smoke, and it could be seen that seated in it, between the wings, were the figures of two men. It was, in fact, an aeroplane of the biplane type, powerfully engined and commissioned by the Mexican government for use as a scout ship to spy out the haunts of the rebels.

Its two occupants were Lieut. José Sancho and Lieut. Manuel Diaz of the Mexican army. They had been flying since daybreak, scouting the country thoroughly in search of information of the rebels’ whereabouts. The great flock of buzzards had attracted their attention, and Lieut. Sancho, who was at the wheel, while his comrade scanned the country through field glasses,had steered the airship in the direction of the great birds.

“Can you see anything?” he asked Lieut. Diaz as the airship drove in among the birds, scaring them off with hoarse cries.

“Yes. There is something on the ground.”

“It must be some dead animal. No human being could have found his way into this miserable desert.”

Lieut. Sancho was about to put the airship on its course once more when his brother officer gave a startled exclamation.

“By the saints!” he exclaimed, “this is strange.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, what attracted those buzzards was no dead steer or horse.”

“What then was it?”

“The figure of a boy or a man lying face downward.”

“Is he dead, do you think?”

“It is impossible to tell.”

“Shall we descend and see?”

“We might as well, although, to speak the truth, I can’t conceive that anyone could have wandered into this desert and lived.”

“Nor I. Still it is our duty to find out.”

“Undoubtedly. Let us land on that little hillock yonder and then we can make an examination.”

Down swooped the great airship, landing without a jar on the bare little hill Lieut. Diaz had mentioned.

As soon as the craft touched the ground the two Mexican officers were out of it, and, after attending to the motor, hastened over the sandy soil to Jack’s side.

“Santa Maria!It is but a boy,” exclaimed Lieut. Sancho as he turned the inanimate form over.

“Todos los Santos, so it is. A fine–lookingfellow, too. But is there any trace of life in him?”

For answer Lieut. Sancho shook his head mournfully.

“I fear we have come too late,” he said, bending over Jack to try to catch the least flicker of life.

CHAPTER XVIII.THE SANDSTORM.His companion produced a tiny mirror, part of a pocket toilet set he carried. Lieut. Sancho took it and held it over Jack’s lips.“Praise the saints, there is still life in him. See!”He held up the mirror for his companion’s inspection. It was blurred faintly, showing that the boy was still breathing.“Get the emergency outfit,” was the next order of the young Mexican officer, and his companion soon produced the required kit from a box under the seat of the military biplane.The kit was the same as used by the armies of most civilized nations. It contained, besides bandages and antiseptics for wounds, stimulants and other drugs. Forcing Jack’s lips open, thelieutenant gave him some stimulant, and was rewarded before long by a faint stirring on the part of the boy.He redoubled his efforts to revive him, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing the boy’s eyes open and stare wildly about him. Not more than ten minutes later Jack was sipping a cup of water and explaining, between gulps, how he came to be in such a predicament. The officers listened with interest and nodded appreciatively as the boy told his story.“This Alvarez is one of the most dangerous of the revolutionaries,” declared Lieut. Sancho. “Since President Madero’s accession he has kept things in the province stirred up in constant turmoil.”“His presence in this part of the country shows that the rebel troops cannot be far off,” struck in Lieut. Diaz, “so that we have to thank our young friend here for some valuable information.”“And I have to thank you for my life,” exclaimed Jack warmly. “I don’t know how to thank you.”“By consenting, if you feel strong enough, to take a ride with us in our aeroplane. What you told us about Alvarez makes me anxious to be off as soon as possible. If he is still in that valley we can capture him, and that will be a crushing blow to the revolutionaries.”Jack had seen aeroplanes before, but never at as close range as this military one. It was painted a dark olive, with wings of a dull gray color, the object being to make it as inconspicuous as possible. It had a powerful six–cylinder motor and was driven by twin propellers. It was built to carry two, but there was room on a folding seat for a third passenger. Jack was told to occupy this extra seat and then Lieut. Sancho and his comrade climbed on board.“Hold tight!” cried Lieut. Sancho as he started his engine.Steady as Jack’s nerves usually were, he felt rather alarmed at the uproar that ensued. From the exhaust pipes of the motor smoke and flame shot viciously. The slender fabric of the aeroplane shook tremulously as the pulsations of the mighty engine racked its frame.But suddenly another sound broke in—a sound that Jack had heard too often before not to recognize it instantly.It was the song of a bullet—the long drawn ze–e–e–ee of a rifle projectile.The two officers were as swift to hear the sound as Jack. Glancing up, the three beheld simultaneously a body of horsemen sweeping down on them from a range of barren–looking hills in the distance. As they rode they fired till a perfect fusilade of bullets was whistling around the aeroplane.They were a wild–looking body of men. Most of them wore the sugar loaf or cone–peaked hat of the Mestizo, and their serapes streamed outin the breeze behind them. Dust and sweat covered their ponies, and a great cloud of gray dust enveloped them.“Viva Alvarez!” they cried as they swept on.Lieut. Sancho saw that to resist them would be hopeless. Instead he devoted all his efforts to starting his motor. At last, just as the foremost of the horsemen were upon them, the aeroplane gave a jump forward and scudded off like a live thing over the crowd.This sudden motion of the great winged man–made bird so terrified the ponies of the rebels, for a detachment of the revolutionists they were, that the little creatures became uncontrollable and dashed off in every direction. All the shouts and curses of their owners failed to rally them, and after running a few hundred feet the aeroplane soared aloft, unharmed except for a few bullet holes in her planes.The sensation was a delightful one. As the bumping motion caused by the run over theground ceased, it felt to Jack as if he was riding on billows of the softest cloud fabric. He had not the slightest fear and watched Lieut. Sancho with interest while he manipulated the various levers and wheels. As they flew the officer showed Jack just how the air craft worked. He even let him take the wheel for an instant, and declared that the boy acquitted himself like a born airman. The aeroplane being fitted with stability devices of automatic construction, it was, of course, possible to do this, where in another sort of air machine it might have been dangerous to allow a novice to handle the control wheel.As they rose higher Jack cast a look back. The country was stretched out like a panorama beneath him. On the plain he could see the detachment of revolutionaries galloping about trying in vain to reform their disorganized ranks.“See if you can point out this wonderful valley of yours,” said Lieut. Diaz presently.Before long Jack sighted the hidden valley which had been the scene of his thrilling climb. He recognized it by the tumbling cascade of water that thundered whitely into the Pool of Death.“There! There it is yonder!” he cried.“It is indeed a wonderful place,” commented Lieut. Sancho as they hovered like a huge eagle above the cliff–walled valley. “If one did not know of it, it would be impossible to discover it.”“Except by airship or by the Pool of Death,” said Jack.Lieut. Sancho finally spied a good place to land and the aeroplane was dropped rapidly into the valley. It settled with hardly a jar or a quiver, much to Jack’s astonishment, who had feared it would collide with the ground with considerable force.“Well, I don’t see anything of your friend Alvarez,” commented Lieut. Sancho, looking about him after they had left the aeroplane.“Nor do I,” commented Jack in a rather astonished tone, “what can have become of him?”“Possibly he has escaped in some way. He is as cunning a fox as there is in the country,” declared Lieut. Diaz.Jack shook his head, however.“There is no chance that he could have gotten out unless he followed my path and I think he was not active enough for that.”“Which way did you get out?” inquired Lieut. Diaz. “Where is that cliff you told us about?”Jack pointed to the frowning precipice he had scaled. The officers, who could hardly be blamed for doubting him, gazed at the boy sharply. But his frank, honest countenance and modest manner of telling his story soon put their suspicions to rout, although Lieut. Diaz frankly confessed:“Señor, you are an American boy, and therefore tell the truth; but from anyone else we should have laughed at the story.”“It was nothing to laugh at, I assure you,” said Jack.“I should imagine not,” agreed Lieut. Sancho, “one would hardly think a fly could find footing on that place.”“Looking up at it now,” said Jack with a laugh, “I myself begin to doubt that I did it.”A systematic search of the valley was begun, and of course ended without result. One thing only was certain, Alvarez had gone. It was a good thing possibly that Jack did not know then the manner of his going, or what part the boy’s own friends had played in it. Had he done so, he would have felt very downcast over the thought of by how narrow a margin he had missed being reunited to them.“Well,” declared Lieut. Diaz as they came to a halt near the Pool of Death, “one thing is as certain as daylight, and that is that in some manner Alvarez has escaped.”“Not a doubt of it. But how?” rejoined hiscompanion. “I confess I am at a complete loss to understand how he effected his release.”“Maybe another aeroplane came along and took him,” suggested Jack. “That is the only thing I can think of.”Entirely mystified, the two officers made arrangements for flight once more. It had been agreed that Jack was to be landed in the Rangers’ camp, or, at any rate, close to it. The prospect of rejoining his friends safe and sound rejoiced the boy, and he was in high spirits when they sat down to partake of lunch before resuming flight.They had concluded their meal when Jack noticed that there was a peculiar look about the sky. From blue it had turned to a yellowish tinge, and the sun glowed through it like a fiery copper ball. He drew the attention of Lieut. Sancho to this, and the young officer and his comrade in arms held a long consultation about the state of the weather.At its conclusion Lieut. Sancho announced that, although the weather appeared threatening, yet they would go up. He explained that he and his companion had to be back at their headquarters in time to report the rebel attack and the near approach of the reactionary forces. If they were to drop Jack on the way, there was no time to be lost.The aeroplane was swiftly tuned up, and when all were on board Lieut. Diaz, who had relieved Lieut. Sancho at the wheel, sent the big craft up with a velocity that made Jack lose his breath. At a height of about two hundred feet a sudden gust struck the air craft, causing it to careen in a most alarming manner. For one dread instant it appeared to Jack that the whole affair was doomed to turn turtle in mid–air; but the stability devices worked just in time.With a clicking and sliding sound the parts that composed the balancing power of themachine slipped into their places and it resumed an even keel.As if to show his perfect mastery of the military dirigible, Lieut. Diaz drove it straight up toward the overcast sky. A fairly stiff wind was now beginning to blow, and to Jack the maneuver appeared risky in the extreme. But, of course, he said nothing, although, looking downward, earth looked fearfully remote. But to the two Mexican officers all this was evidently part of the day’s work. At all events, neither of them displayed the least anxiety; on the contrary, Lieut. Sancho was busy noting the action of the barograph and barometer, and jotting down the results of his observations in a small notebook.All at once Jack, on glancing down, discovered that the earth had been obliterated. A yellow fog, or it seemed to be fog, hid the surface of the country from them. All at once something stinging struck the boy’s face. It was sand.With a gasp of alarm Jack realized that a sandstorm was raging below them. He recalled the one near La Hacheta, in which the lads had seen the flight of the ghostly camels. Seriously alarmed, he drew the attention of his companions to what was going on. By this time, so rapidly had the velocity of the wind increased that it was blowing half a gale, great clouds of sand swept bewilderingly round them. The aeroplane pitched and swayed like a ship in an angry sea. Jack held on tight, thinking that every moment would be likely to be his last.“We did wrong to come up so high,” admitted Lieut. Diaz.“But you are going higher?” objected Jack.“Yes. We must avoid that sand at all hazards. It won’t be so bad higher up, I hope.”“Why not drop to earth right now? It’s all flat country hereabouts,” said Jack.“In the first place, the sand would blind us and we would crash to earth and be wrecked, inall probability. In the second place, if even a little sand got into our engine it would ruin it,” rejoined the officer.Jack said no more. He felt rather ashamed, in fact, of having showed his agitation so plainly. After all, the officers knew far more about aeroplanes than he did, and perhaps there was a chance that they would get through safely yet, He fervently prayed that they might.Lieut. Diaz sat grimly at the wheel, driving the aeroplane ever upward. Jack watched him admiringly. Not a trace of fear or of any other emotion had flickered across his steadfast countenance since the battle with the storm had begun.They had driven their way far above the yellow sand fog and were battling with the wind at an altitude of almost seven thousand feet, when Lieut. Diaz gave a sudden gasp. He turned deadly pale and lurched forward in his seat. Had not Lieut. Sancho caught him, he would havetoppled off into space. The aeroplane, released from a controlling hand, gave a sickening dash downward.“Wha–what has happened?” gasped Jack, genuinely alarmed now.“It’s air sickness! Seize that controlling handle and do just as I tell you. All our lives may depend on it!”

THE SANDSTORM.

His companion produced a tiny mirror, part of a pocket toilet set he carried. Lieut. Sancho took it and held it over Jack’s lips.

“Praise the saints, there is still life in him. See!”

He held up the mirror for his companion’s inspection. It was blurred faintly, showing that the boy was still breathing.

“Get the emergency outfit,” was the next order of the young Mexican officer, and his companion soon produced the required kit from a box under the seat of the military biplane.

The kit was the same as used by the armies of most civilized nations. It contained, besides bandages and antiseptics for wounds, stimulants and other drugs. Forcing Jack’s lips open, thelieutenant gave him some stimulant, and was rewarded before long by a faint stirring on the part of the boy.

He redoubled his efforts to revive him, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing the boy’s eyes open and stare wildly about him. Not more than ten minutes later Jack was sipping a cup of water and explaining, between gulps, how he came to be in such a predicament. The officers listened with interest and nodded appreciatively as the boy told his story.

“This Alvarez is one of the most dangerous of the revolutionaries,” declared Lieut. Sancho. “Since President Madero’s accession he has kept things in the province stirred up in constant turmoil.”

“His presence in this part of the country shows that the rebel troops cannot be far off,” struck in Lieut. Diaz, “so that we have to thank our young friend here for some valuable information.”

“And I have to thank you for my life,” exclaimed Jack warmly. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“By consenting, if you feel strong enough, to take a ride with us in our aeroplane. What you told us about Alvarez makes me anxious to be off as soon as possible. If he is still in that valley we can capture him, and that will be a crushing blow to the revolutionaries.”

Jack had seen aeroplanes before, but never at as close range as this military one. It was painted a dark olive, with wings of a dull gray color, the object being to make it as inconspicuous as possible. It had a powerful six–cylinder motor and was driven by twin propellers. It was built to carry two, but there was room on a folding seat for a third passenger. Jack was told to occupy this extra seat and then Lieut. Sancho and his comrade climbed on board.

“Hold tight!” cried Lieut. Sancho as he started his engine.

Steady as Jack’s nerves usually were, he felt rather alarmed at the uproar that ensued. From the exhaust pipes of the motor smoke and flame shot viciously. The slender fabric of the aeroplane shook tremulously as the pulsations of the mighty engine racked its frame.

But suddenly another sound broke in—a sound that Jack had heard too often before not to recognize it instantly.

It was the song of a bullet—the long drawn ze–e–e–ee of a rifle projectile.

The two officers were as swift to hear the sound as Jack. Glancing up, the three beheld simultaneously a body of horsemen sweeping down on them from a range of barren–looking hills in the distance. As they rode they fired till a perfect fusilade of bullets was whistling around the aeroplane.

They were a wild–looking body of men. Most of them wore the sugar loaf or cone–peaked hat of the Mestizo, and their serapes streamed outin the breeze behind them. Dust and sweat covered their ponies, and a great cloud of gray dust enveloped them.

“Viva Alvarez!” they cried as they swept on.

Lieut. Sancho saw that to resist them would be hopeless. Instead he devoted all his efforts to starting his motor. At last, just as the foremost of the horsemen were upon them, the aeroplane gave a jump forward and scudded off like a live thing over the crowd.

This sudden motion of the great winged man–made bird so terrified the ponies of the rebels, for a detachment of the revolutionists they were, that the little creatures became uncontrollable and dashed off in every direction. All the shouts and curses of their owners failed to rally them, and after running a few hundred feet the aeroplane soared aloft, unharmed except for a few bullet holes in her planes.

The sensation was a delightful one. As the bumping motion caused by the run over theground ceased, it felt to Jack as if he was riding on billows of the softest cloud fabric. He had not the slightest fear and watched Lieut. Sancho with interest while he manipulated the various levers and wheels. As they flew the officer showed Jack just how the air craft worked. He even let him take the wheel for an instant, and declared that the boy acquitted himself like a born airman. The aeroplane being fitted with stability devices of automatic construction, it was, of course, possible to do this, where in another sort of air machine it might have been dangerous to allow a novice to handle the control wheel.

As they rose higher Jack cast a look back. The country was stretched out like a panorama beneath him. On the plain he could see the detachment of revolutionaries galloping about trying in vain to reform their disorganized ranks.

“See if you can point out this wonderful valley of yours,” said Lieut. Diaz presently.

Before long Jack sighted the hidden valley which had been the scene of his thrilling climb. He recognized it by the tumbling cascade of water that thundered whitely into the Pool of Death.

“There! There it is yonder!” he cried.

“It is indeed a wonderful place,” commented Lieut. Sancho as they hovered like a huge eagle above the cliff–walled valley. “If one did not know of it, it would be impossible to discover it.”

“Except by airship or by the Pool of Death,” said Jack.

Lieut. Sancho finally spied a good place to land and the aeroplane was dropped rapidly into the valley. It settled with hardly a jar or a quiver, much to Jack’s astonishment, who had feared it would collide with the ground with considerable force.

“Well, I don’t see anything of your friend Alvarez,” commented Lieut. Sancho, looking about him after they had left the aeroplane.

“Nor do I,” commented Jack in a rather astonished tone, “what can have become of him?”

“Possibly he has escaped in some way. He is as cunning a fox as there is in the country,” declared Lieut. Diaz.

Jack shook his head, however.

“There is no chance that he could have gotten out unless he followed my path and I think he was not active enough for that.”

“Which way did you get out?” inquired Lieut. Diaz. “Where is that cliff you told us about?”

Jack pointed to the frowning precipice he had scaled. The officers, who could hardly be blamed for doubting him, gazed at the boy sharply. But his frank, honest countenance and modest manner of telling his story soon put their suspicions to rout, although Lieut. Diaz frankly confessed:

“Señor, you are an American boy, and therefore tell the truth; but from anyone else we should have laughed at the story.”

“It was nothing to laugh at, I assure you,” said Jack.

“I should imagine not,” agreed Lieut. Sancho, “one would hardly think a fly could find footing on that place.”

“Looking up at it now,” said Jack with a laugh, “I myself begin to doubt that I did it.”

A systematic search of the valley was begun, and of course ended without result. One thing only was certain, Alvarez had gone. It was a good thing possibly that Jack did not know then the manner of his going, or what part the boy’s own friends had played in it. Had he done so, he would have felt very downcast over the thought of by how narrow a margin he had missed being reunited to them.

“Well,” declared Lieut. Diaz as they came to a halt near the Pool of Death, “one thing is as certain as daylight, and that is that in some manner Alvarez has escaped.”

“Not a doubt of it. But how?” rejoined hiscompanion. “I confess I am at a complete loss to understand how he effected his release.”

“Maybe another aeroplane came along and took him,” suggested Jack. “That is the only thing I can think of.”

Entirely mystified, the two officers made arrangements for flight once more. It had been agreed that Jack was to be landed in the Rangers’ camp, or, at any rate, close to it. The prospect of rejoining his friends safe and sound rejoiced the boy, and he was in high spirits when they sat down to partake of lunch before resuming flight.

They had concluded their meal when Jack noticed that there was a peculiar look about the sky. From blue it had turned to a yellowish tinge, and the sun glowed through it like a fiery copper ball. He drew the attention of Lieut. Sancho to this, and the young officer and his comrade in arms held a long consultation about the state of the weather.

At its conclusion Lieut. Sancho announced that, although the weather appeared threatening, yet they would go up. He explained that he and his companion had to be back at their headquarters in time to report the rebel attack and the near approach of the reactionary forces. If they were to drop Jack on the way, there was no time to be lost.

The aeroplane was swiftly tuned up, and when all were on board Lieut. Diaz, who had relieved Lieut. Sancho at the wheel, sent the big craft up with a velocity that made Jack lose his breath. At a height of about two hundred feet a sudden gust struck the air craft, causing it to careen in a most alarming manner. For one dread instant it appeared to Jack that the whole affair was doomed to turn turtle in mid–air; but the stability devices worked just in time.

With a clicking and sliding sound the parts that composed the balancing power of themachine slipped into their places and it resumed an even keel.

As if to show his perfect mastery of the military dirigible, Lieut. Diaz drove it straight up toward the overcast sky. A fairly stiff wind was now beginning to blow, and to Jack the maneuver appeared risky in the extreme. But, of course, he said nothing, although, looking downward, earth looked fearfully remote. But to the two Mexican officers all this was evidently part of the day’s work. At all events, neither of them displayed the least anxiety; on the contrary, Lieut. Sancho was busy noting the action of the barograph and barometer, and jotting down the results of his observations in a small notebook.

All at once Jack, on glancing down, discovered that the earth had been obliterated. A yellow fog, or it seemed to be fog, hid the surface of the country from them. All at once something stinging struck the boy’s face. It was sand.

With a gasp of alarm Jack realized that a sandstorm was raging below them. He recalled the one near La Hacheta, in which the lads had seen the flight of the ghostly camels. Seriously alarmed, he drew the attention of his companions to what was going on. By this time, so rapidly had the velocity of the wind increased that it was blowing half a gale, great clouds of sand swept bewilderingly round them. The aeroplane pitched and swayed like a ship in an angry sea. Jack held on tight, thinking that every moment would be likely to be his last.

“We did wrong to come up so high,” admitted Lieut. Diaz.

“But you are going higher?” objected Jack.

“Yes. We must avoid that sand at all hazards. It won’t be so bad higher up, I hope.”

“Why not drop to earth right now? It’s all flat country hereabouts,” said Jack.

“In the first place, the sand would blind us and we would crash to earth and be wrecked, inall probability. In the second place, if even a little sand got into our engine it would ruin it,” rejoined the officer.

Jack said no more. He felt rather ashamed, in fact, of having showed his agitation so plainly. After all, the officers knew far more about aeroplanes than he did, and perhaps there was a chance that they would get through safely yet, He fervently prayed that they might.

Lieut. Diaz sat grimly at the wheel, driving the aeroplane ever upward. Jack watched him admiringly. Not a trace of fear or of any other emotion had flickered across his steadfast countenance since the battle with the storm had begun.

They had driven their way far above the yellow sand fog and were battling with the wind at an altitude of almost seven thousand feet, when Lieut. Diaz gave a sudden gasp. He turned deadly pale and lurched forward in his seat. Had not Lieut. Sancho caught him, he would havetoppled off into space. The aeroplane, released from a controlling hand, gave a sickening dash downward.

“Wha–what has happened?” gasped Jack, genuinely alarmed now.

“It’s air sickness! Seize that controlling handle and do just as I tell you. All our lives may depend on it!”

CHAPTER XIX.THE BATTLE AT THE SCHOOLHOUSE.Air sickness! With the words there flashed through Jack’s mind a recollection of having read somewhere about that strange malady of the upper regions which sometimes seizes airmen, paralyzing temporarily their every faculty.While the thought was still in his mind he had seized the wheel and awaited the next orders from Lieut. Sancho, who was holding the unconscious form of Lieut. Diaz in the machine.“Push that lever forward—so! Now a twist of your wheel to the left.Bueno!You are a born airman.”Jack wished he could think so, too. From sheer nervousness the sweat stood out upon him, his hands shook and his pulses throbbed.But the consciousness that all their lives dependedupon his keeping cool and obeying orders steadied him. By a supreme effort he mastered his jumping nerves and obeyed the lieutenant’s orders implicitly.To his actual surprise, for he did not think it would have been so easy to handle an air craft, the winged machine righted itself as he manipulated the lever and wheel. Before many seconds it was driving along on an even keel once more. But in its fall it had entered the region of driving sand again. Pitilessly, like needle–pointed hailstones, the sharp grains drove about them, pricking their flesh.“Up! We must go up higher!” cried Lieut. Sancho. “Pull back that lever. Now your wheel to the right—that sets the rising warping appliances! There! That’s it! Now your foot on the engine accelerator! Good! You are an aviator already.”As Jack put the lieutenant’s commands into execution one after another the desired effectwas procured. The aeroplane began to rise, fighting its way up through that inferno of yellow sand. Jack feared that at any moment his eyes would be rendered useless, but he stuck to his task without flinching.At last in the upper regions, they winged along free from the ordeal of the whirling sand spouts, but still in the grasp of the furious wind.“Can we not land?” asked Jack after a time. “Surely it would be safer.”“Safer, doubtless, once we could get to earth; but it would be madness to attempt a landing in this wind.”“Then we must stay up here till the wind subsides?”“Yes, or at least until the sand thins out. We should be blinded if we got into the thick of it, let alone the danger to our engine.”“What speed are we making?” was Jack’s next question.“About fifty miles an hour, possibly more.”“Then we may be driven miles out of our way?”“I fear that is possible. But see, Lieut. Diaz appears to be reviving. Can you reach me that medical kit?”Jack, not without being fearful of the consequences of his taking one hand from the controlling devices, did so. Luckily, as we know, the aeroplane was equipped with the latest stability devices, making her comparatively steady compared to the older fashioned craft of the air. Jack’s maneuver, therefore, was not so risky as might have been thought.While the aeroplane bucked and plunged its way through the storm Lieut. Sancho administered stimulants to Lieut. Diaz, who presently began to recover from his spell of air sickness almost as rapidly as he had been “taken down” with it. It is a peculiarity of such seizures, in fact, that they are not of long duration. Some authorities have held that there are poisonedstrata in the air which cause the sickness and on emerging from them the victim becomes well again. However that may be, Lieut. Diaz was soon himself, and Jack was relieved at the wheel by Lieut. Sancho.“How far do you imagine we have been driven?” he asked as the officer took the wheel.“That is impossible to say,amigoJack. I directed you while you were in control of the ship so that as far as possible we should maneuver in circles. Judging by that, we ought not to be much more than fifty miles or so out of our way.”This was cheering news to Jack, who had begun to imagine that they had been driven half way to the Gulf of Mexico at least. As this would have meant a lot of delay in rejoining his comrades, he was naturally worried. For an hour or so more they swung in circles above the storm, and then the furious gale began to lessen.As the wind fell the sand “fog” below began to melt away just as if it had actually been mist. Its dissolving brought a view of a stretch of country not unlike that in which the Rangers had been camped when Jack had last seen them.Below them shone the river between its precipitous banks, and on one side of it Jack could see a small, rough–looking settlement. On the outskirts was a low red building, the shape and form of which at once showed it to be a schoolhouse, even if the Stars and Stripes had not been floating on a pole before the door. The aeroplane was still hovering in the air above the little settlement when the schoolhouse door opened and out rushed teacher and pupils in evident excitement. They gazed upward at the winged man–bird in a state of the greatest wonderment.Suddenly from across the river came a perfect tempest of shots and yells. Looking down, Jack saw that a body of horsemen was galloping fordear life toward the ford at the river. Close behind them came some more mounted men, although the latter were dressed in uniforms, suggesting that they were regulars. Evidently they were in pursuit of the ragged–looking Mestizos who were making for the ford.On they came at a furious gallop. Gazing from above, Lieut. Sancho announced that the band being pursued was a band of rebels, while the men in pursuit were part of the regular cavalry of the Mexican government.“But they are fleeing on to American soil!” exclaimed Jack.“Si, señor Jack. Evidently the rascally rebels think that if they can gain the protection of the Stars and Stripes they will be safe.”Jack could not help feeling sympathy for the ragged band that was being so remorselessly pursued, even though he knew that the rebels had wrought all sorts of outrages, both on American soil and in their own country. For instance,only a short time before a band of cattle had been driven from an American ranch to feed the starving revolutionary troops.But such thoughts as these were soon interrupted by the boy’s absorbed interest in the drama taking place far below them. From the town a few men had come running at the sound of the shooting, but as they saw the armed men come sweeping through the ford they beat a hasty retreat. Only the school teacher, a pretty young girl, so far as Jack could see, and her little flock stood their ground.Having crossed the ford the pursued Mestizos did not draw rein. Instead, they urged their ponies on still more furiously. The clatter of their hoofs even reached to the aeroplane, which was swinging about in the blue ether some thousands of feet above.All at once Jack, with a quick intake of his breath, divined their purpose. The hounded band of revolutionaries was spurring and lashing forthe schoolhouse. Their evident purpose was to seek refuge within it, under the protection of Old Glory.But what of the children and their young teacher? In case there should be firing, their position would be a terrible one. As the first of the rebel band dashed into the schoolhouse enclosure and the teacher and her pupils fled within in terror, Jack begged Lieut. Sancho to descend.“In case the Federals open fire on the schoolhouse many of those children will be killed,” he cried anxiously.Lieut. Sancho nodded.“I doubt if we can be of much use,” he said, “but at any rate we will drop down and see what can be done.”The aeroplane instantly began to descend, but before it was half way down the last of the refugees had dashed into the schoolhouse, and the door was slammed to and bolted. The Federals,close on the fugitives’ heels, withdrew to a short distance for a parley when they perceived this. From the schoolhouse windows a few scattering shots followed them, but none of them took effect.But the men who had done the shooting had perceived the approach of the aeroplane, which was now quite close to the ground. It was probably the first they had ever seen and they gazed at it with awe and some superstitious terror.“What do you want?” called one of them.“What shall we tell them?” Lieut. Sancho whispered to Jack.“Tell them to let the teacher and her scholars out of there at once or we will dynamite the place,” replied Jack without hesitation.“I’ll tell them that if they don’t, we shall drop a bomb from the aeroplane,” whispered the lieutenant.“That’s a good idea. Let’s hope it will scarethem into releasing the children and their teacher.”Lieut. Sancho shouted his ultimatum at the men at the schoolhouse windows, at the same time leaning down as if to pick up some sort of weapon. Doubtless the unfamiliarity of such a war machine as an aeroplane had something to do with it; but at any rate, after some anxious deliberation, during which the aeroplane hovered at closer range, the door was opened and the teacher and her little flock emerged.“Now run to the town. Run for your lives,” cried Jack as they came out, and the pretty girl and her pupils were not slow to obey the injunction.In the meantime the Federals, withdrawn to a little distance, had viewed the operations with amazement. They had been too much excited by the chase to notice the aeroplane till it was at close range. Now they gazed at it with wonder and then broke into a cheer. At first Jack wasastonished at this enthusiasm, but then he suddenly recollected that inscribed on the machine’s upper and lower planes were the arms of the Mexican Republic.“Viva! Viva, Madero!” yelled the regulars, as the aeroplane swung above them.“What are you going to do with those rascals in the schoolhouse?” yelled down Lieut. Sancho to the officer in charge of the Federals as the great winged machine sailed majestically by over their heads.“Assault the place and capture it,” was the reply.“You forget that it is on American territory and that our government will be liable for any outrages inflicted on this side of the Border,” was the rejoinder. “I will guarantee to get them out of there in far more peaceable fashion.”“Very well, señor lieutenant, as you will,” was the reply of the officer, given with a shrug of the shoulders.“Well, I wonder what’s going to happen now?” thought Jack as the aeroplane was headed back at top speed for the schoolhouse.“Diaz, will you do me the favor to get that round black bottle out of the medicine kit?” said Lieut. Sancho in calm tones as he guided the air craft toward the stronghold and retreat of the rebel force.

THE BATTLE AT THE SCHOOLHOUSE.

Air sickness! With the words there flashed through Jack’s mind a recollection of having read somewhere about that strange malady of the upper regions which sometimes seizes airmen, paralyzing temporarily their every faculty.

While the thought was still in his mind he had seized the wheel and awaited the next orders from Lieut. Sancho, who was holding the unconscious form of Lieut. Diaz in the machine.

“Push that lever forward—so! Now a twist of your wheel to the left.Bueno!You are a born airman.”

Jack wished he could think so, too. From sheer nervousness the sweat stood out upon him, his hands shook and his pulses throbbed.

But the consciousness that all their lives dependedupon his keeping cool and obeying orders steadied him. By a supreme effort he mastered his jumping nerves and obeyed the lieutenant’s orders implicitly.

To his actual surprise, for he did not think it would have been so easy to handle an air craft, the winged machine righted itself as he manipulated the lever and wheel. Before many seconds it was driving along on an even keel once more. But in its fall it had entered the region of driving sand again. Pitilessly, like needle–pointed hailstones, the sharp grains drove about them, pricking their flesh.

“Up! We must go up higher!” cried Lieut. Sancho. “Pull back that lever. Now your wheel to the right—that sets the rising warping appliances! There! That’s it! Now your foot on the engine accelerator! Good! You are an aviator already.”

As Jack put the lieutenant’s commands into execution one after another the desired effectwas procured. The aeroplane began to rise, fighting its way up through that inferno of yellow sand. Jack feared that at any moment his eyes would be rendered useless, but he stuck to his task without flinching.

At last in the upper regions, they winged along free from the ordeal of the whirling sand spouts, but still in the grasp of the furious wind.

“Can we not land?” asked Jack after a time. “Surely it would be safer.”

“Safer, doubtless, once we could get to earth; but it would be madness to attempt a landing in this wind.”

“Then we must stay up here till the wind subsides?”

“Yes, or at least until the sand thins out. We should be blinded if we got into the thick of it, let alone the danger to our engine.”

“What speed are we making?” was Jack’s next question.

“About fifty miles an hour, possibly more.”

“Then we may be driven miles out of our way?”

“I fear that is possible. But see, Lieut. Diaz appears to be reviving. Can you reach me that medical kit?”

Jack, not without being fearful of the consequences of his taking one hand from the controlling devices, did so. Luckily, as we know, the aeroplane was equipped with the latest stability devices, making her comparatively steady compared to the older fashioned craft of the air. Jack’s maneuver, therefore, was not so risky as might have been thought.

While the aeroplane bucked and plunged its way through the storm Lieut. Sancho administered stimulants to Lieut. Diaz, who presently began to recover from his spell of air sickness almost as rapidly as he had been “taken down” with it. It is a peculiarity of such seizures, in fact, that they are not of long duration. Some authorities have held that there are poisonedstrata in the air which cause the sickness and on emerging from them the victim becomes well again. However that may be, Lieut. Diaz was soon himself, and Jack was relieved at the wheel by Lieut. Sancho.

“How far do you imagine we have been driven?” he asked as the officer took the wheel.

“That is impossible to say,amigoJack. I directed you while you were in control of the ship so that as far as possible we should maneuver in circles. Judging by that, we ought not to be much more than fifty miles or so out of our way.”

This was cheering news to Jack, who had begun to imagine that they had been driven half way to the Gulf of Mexico at least. As this would have meant a lot of delay in rejoining his comrades, he was naturally worried. For an hour or so more they swung in circles above the storm, and then the furious gale began to lessen.

As the wind fell the sand “fog” below began to melt away just as if it had actually been mist. Its dissolving brought a view of a stretch of country not unlike that in which the Rangers had been camped when Jack had last seen them.

Below them shone the river between its precipitous banks, and on one side of it Jack could see a small, rough–looking settlement. On the outskirts was a low red building, the shape and form of which at once showed it to be a schoolhouse, even if the Stars and Stripes had not been floating on a pole before the door. The aeroplane was still hovering in the air above the little settlement when the schoolhouse door opened and out rushed teacher and pupils in evident excitement. They gazed upward at the winged man–bird in a state of the greatest wonderment.

Suddenly from across the river came a perfect tempest of shots and yells. Looking down, Jack saw that a body of horsemen was galloping fordear life toward the ford at the river. Close behind them came some more mounted men, although the latter were dressed in uniforms, suggesting that they were regulars. Evidently they were in pursuit of the ragged–looking Mestizos who were making for the ford.

On they came at a furious gallop. Gazing from above, Lieut. Sancho announced that the band being pursued was a band of rebels, while the men in pursuit were part of the regular cavalry of the Mexican government.

“But they are fleeing on to American soil!” exclaimed Jack.

“Si, señor Jack. Evidently the rascally rebels think that if they can gain the protection of the Stars and Stripes they will be safe.”

Jack could not help feeling sympathy for the ragged band that was being so remorselessly pursued, even though he knew that the rebels had wrought all sorts of outrages, both on American soil and in their own country. For instance,only a short time before a band of cattle had been driven from an American ranch to feed the starving revolutionary troops.

But such thoughts as these were soon interrupted by the boy’s absorbed interest in the drama taking place far below them. From the town a few men had come running at the sound of the shooting, but as they saw the armed men come sweeping through the ford they beat a hasty retreat. Only the school teacher, a pretty young girl, so far as Jack could see, and her little flock stood their ground.

Having crossed the ford the pursued Mestizos did not draw rein. Instead, they urged their ponies on still more furiously. The clatter of their hoofs even reached to the aeroplane, which was swinging about in the blue ether some thousands of feet above.

All at once Jack, with a quick intake of his breath, divined their purpose. The hounded band of revolutionaries was spurring and lashing forthe schoolhouse. Their evident purpose was to seek refuge within it, under the protection of Old Glory.

But what of the children and their young teacher? In case there should be firing, their position would be a terrible one. As the first of the rebel band dashed into the schoolhouse enclosure and the teacher and her pupils fled within in terror, Jack begged Lieut. Sancho to descend.

“In case the Federals open fire on the schoolhouse many of those children will be killed,” he cried anxiously.

Lieut. Sancho nodded.

“I doubt if we can be of much use,” he said, “but at any rate we will drop down and see what can be done.”

The aeroplane instantly began to descend, but before it was half way down the last of the refugees had dashed into the schoolhouse, and the door was slammed to and bolted. The Federals,close on the fugitives’ heels, withdrew to a short distance for a parley when they perceived this. From the schoolhouse windows a few scattering shots followed them, but none of them took effect.

But the men who had done the shooting had perceived the approach of the aeroplane, which was now quite close to the ground. It was probably the first they had ever seen and they gazed at it with awe and some superstitious terror.

“What do you want?” called one of them.

“What shall we tell them?” Lieut. Sancho whispered to Jack.

“Tell them to let the teacher and her scholars out of there at once or we will dynamite the place,” replied Jack without hesitation.

“I’ll tell them that if they don’t, we shall drop a bomb from the aeroplane,” whispered the lieutenant.

“That’s a good idea. Let’s hope it will scarethem into releasing the children and their teacher.”

Lieut. Sancho shouted his ultimatum at the men at the schoolhouse windows, at the same time leaning down as if to pick up some sort of weapon. Doubtless the unfamiliarity of such a war machine as an aeroplane had something to do with it; but at any rate, after some anxious deliberation, during which the aeroplane hovered at closer range, the door was opened and the teacher and her little flock emerged.

“Now run to the town. Run for your lives,” cried Jack as they came out, and the pretty girl and her pupils were not slow to obey the injunction.

In the meantime the Federals, withdrawn to a little distance, had viewed the operations with amazement. They had been too much excited by the chase to notice the aeroplane till it was at close range. Now they gazed at it with wonder and then broke into a cheer. At first Jack wasastonished at this enthusiasm, but then he suddenly recollected that inscribed on the machine’s upper and lower planes were the arms of the Mexican Republic.

“Viva! Viva, Madero!” yelled the regulars, as the aeroplane swung above them.

“What are you going to do with those rascals in the schoolhouse?” yelled down Lieut. Sancho to the officer in charge of the Federals as the great winged machine sailed majestically by over their heads.

“Assault the place and capture it,” was the reply.

“You forget that it is on American territory and that our government will be liable for any outrages inflicted on this side of the Border,” was the rejoinder. “I will guarantee to get them out of there in far more peaceable fashion.”

“Very well, señor lieutenant, as you will,” was the reply of the officer, given with a shrug of the shoulders.

“Well, I wonder what’s going to happen now?” thought Jack as the aeroplane was headed back at top speed for the schoolhouse.

“Diaz, will you do me the favor to get that round black bottle out of the medicine kit?” said Lieut. Sancho in calm tones as he guided the air craft toward the stronghold and retreat of the rebel force.

CHAPTER XX.WHERE STRATEGY WON OUT.Their coming was viewed by a dozen swarthy faces thrust out of the schoolhouse windows. As the aeroplane drew near the building Lieut. Sancho raised his voice above the humming of the engine.In a loud authoritative tone he called for attention.“If that schoolhouse is not vacated inside of five minutes,” he snapped out, “I shall dynamite it.”A derisive chorus of yells greeted this, although a few voices could be heard begging the officer to have mercy.“Hand me that ‘bomb,’ Diaz,” ordered the officer as the aeroplane came in full view of the schoolhouse.Seizing this opportunity, Lieut. Sancho manipulated the air craft with one hand while he apparently examined the “bomb” with deep attention. He took good care while doing this to handle it so that it might be plainly seen by the Mestizos.The aeroplane continued its flight above the schoolhouse roof, and then, swinging round, was driven back again. As they came over for the second time Lieut. Sancho hailed the recalcitrants once more.“Throw your rifles and weapons out of the windows or I’ll drop the bomb. The five minutes is almost up.”This time there was no answer but a sullen roar. Apparently the occupants of the schoolhouse were quarreling among each other. The aeroplane was flown a short distance and then turned for another flight toward the schoolhouse.“Here, take the wheel, Diaz,” ordered Lieut.Sancho. “I’m going to let them see that we mean business.”With Lieut. Diaz at the wheel, his brother officer manipulated the “bomb” in truly alarming manner. Bending low over it and striking a match, he appeared to light its fuse. Then, holding on to a brace, he half rose out of his seat, and as they neared the schoolhouse he raised his arm as if poising the “bomb” before hurling it.It was too much for the nerves of the besieged. With wild cries to Lieut. Sancho not to kill them, they began casting their rifles and revolvers out of the windows in a perfect hail. Lieut. Sancho appeared to stay his hand, but was still menacing.“Todos! Todos!” (“All! All!”)He shouted this as they thundered close above the schoolhouse roof. As he did so the schoolhouse door was opened and out rushed the terrified, demoralized Mestizos, who were swiftly made prisoners by the Federals without their offering more than a nominal resistance.By the time the last had been captured, while the aeroplane drew close to the scene, from the town, whence the proceedings had been watched with interest, several citizens came running, now that all the danger of bullets seemed to be past.“Well, after what I’ve seen,” declared Jack, “never tell me that the aeroplane isn’t any good in warfare. To–day it averted what might have been a bloody fight, and, as it was, not a man was even scratched, except in his feelings. By the way, Lieutenant, what was in that ‘bomb’?”“A very deadly mixture,” laughed the officer in return, “a solution of Epsom salts!”“Here I be, the mayor of that thar berg back thar,” said an individual with a bristly straw–colored mustache, hastening up. “What be all these here connipations a–goin’ on out hyar?”“Why, Mr. Mayor,” rejoined Jack, “these two gentlemen are officers of the Mexican Federal troops detailed to aerial duty.”“Waal, what be they doin’ this side of therBorder? I’ve a good mind ter put ’em in ther calaboose, the dern long–horns,” declared the mayor angrily.“Inasmuch as they saved a lot of children and their teacher from rough treatment by a band of rebels, I don’t think that would be very fair,” said Jack.“Humph!” grunted the mayor, “I was comin’ out hyar to git ther mavericks on ther run myself, but I had an attack of indigestion.”“I guess that was when you heard the shooting,” thought Jack to himself.Aloud, though, he continued:“The Mestizos were captured by as clever a ruse as can be imagined, Mr. Mayor.”“Eh, how’s that, young feller?”“By a bottle of Epsom salts.”“Say, see here, kid, it ain’t healthy ter git funny with yer elders in these hyar parts.”“It’s the exact truth, I assure you,” declared Jack smilingly, quite ignoring the mayor’s frown.He went on to tell the full details of the fight, or rather the argument, and when he had finished not one of the assembled crowd was there that did not join in the laugh.“An’ how did you come to be hyar, young feller?” asked the mayor at the conclusion of Jack’s story. “You beant a greaser.”“No, but I have found that there are a few brave and clever men on the other side of the line, too,” declared Jack.“Ther kid’s right,” assented one or two in the crowd.Jack then told as much of his adventures as he thought necessary, and at the conclusion the delighted mayor clapped him on the back so heartily that the breath was almost driven out of his body.“I’ll give yer all ther liberty of Go ’long,” he said, sweeping his hand back toward his little principality.But the two Mexican officers were obliged torefuse the mayor’s hospitality. A short time after the Federal troops had departed with their prisoners of war the two airmen winged their way southward to their headquarters.As for Jack, he had ascertained that San Mercedes was only twenty miles or so off, so he determined to hire a horse and ride over there early in the morning. That night he slept in a bed for the first time in many long hours, and with his anxieties cleared away and his heart light, his slumbers were deep and dreamless. He was awakened by the ubiquitous mayor, who was also the hotel–keeper. Incidentally, the pretty school teacher turned out to be his daughter. Her enthusiastic praises of Jack the night before had made the boy blush hotly, but that was nothing to his embarrassment a few moments later when the town band, consisting of a cornet and a drum, headed a procession to the hotel and he had been compelled to give a speech.Jack felt glad on waking that all that was over,and that in a short time he would be on his way back to his friends in the camp of the Rangers. The town of Go ’long did not offer much in the way of a menu beyond blackstrap and hot cakes, beans, bacon and black coffee, but Jack made a hearty meal on these frontier delicacies, after which he was informed that his pony was at the door.His landlord, whose name, by the way, was Jerry Dolittle, refused to take a cent from the boy, and told him that when the Rangers came that way next his old friend, Captain Atkinson, could return him the pony.The greater part of the population of Go ’long had accompanied Jack about a mile on his way, but soon he was ambling along alone with a straight road in front of him. Naturally his mind was busy with speculations as to what had occurred in the camp during his long absence from it.“Good old Walt! Dear old Ralph! Won’tthey be glad to see me!” he mused as he rode along across the plains; “won’t I be glad to see them, too! Gracious, what a lot we shall have to talk about! I won’t blame them if they don’t believe half of it. I can hardly believe it myself sometimes, and that’s a fact.”Between San Mercedes and Go ’long the rough road led through one of those peculiarly desolate ranges of hills common in that part of our country. As Jack’s pony began to mount into the recesses of these gloomy, barren hills, the lad knew that he had come a dozen miles or so from the Go ’long hotel.The road wound along the bottom of the steep, sandy gullies, which were in some places streaked gorgeously with strata of various colors, red, blue and bright orange. Above burned a sky of brilliant blue. It would have made a splendid subject for the canvas of an impressionistic painter.Jack knew that somewhere within these hillshe ought to meet the daily stage that ran between San Mercedes and Go ’long. At least, such had been the information given him before he set out from the latter place. He was quite anxious to see it, as on his lonely ride he had not encountered a human face. The solitary nature of the barren hills through which he was now riding depressed him, too, with a sense of remoteness and lonesomeness.As Jack rode he commented to himself on the rugged character of the scenery. The road, which would have hardly been dignified with the name of a trail in the east, crawled along the side of the bare hills, in some places overhanging gloomy canyons.“This must be a dangerous place to drive a stage,” thought Jack as he passed by a big rock and found himself traversing a bit of road which bordered the edge of a mountain spur, with a precipice on one side and a deep canyon on the other.In fact, had the lad known it, that particular bit of road was reputed to be about the worst even in that wild land. Should the horses make a misstep on the trail, instant death to every occupant of the coach must result.There were few drivers, even the most reckless, that cared to go at more than a snail’s pace over that stretch of road even with the quietest team. True, the passage had been made on one occasion at night, but that was for a wild and foolish bet and the authorities had put a stop to any more such practices. So that Jack was not far out when he mentally appraised that bit of road as being as dangerous and nasty a track to negotiate as he had ever seen; and Jack had seen a good deal of the wild southwest.The boy had passed the dangerous bit of road and was jogging along in a deep divide between two ranges, when he was startled by a sudden sound right ahead of him.It was unmistakably a shot.A rifle shot, too, the boy judged. He spurred forward rapidly, not knowing well just what to expect when he should round a curve in the road just ahead.It did flash into his mind that his landlord at Go ’long had spoken of the coach being held up occasionally, but Jack had placed little stock in the stories. In fact, he rather inclined to think that old Jerry was telling them with the idea of getting a rise out of a Tenderfoot.Still, there were a few mines in that part of the country and occasionally gold was shipped through to Go ’long, which was not far from the main line of the Southern Pacific Railroad.But Jack had only made a few paces forward on his quickened mount when three other shots rang out in rapid succession.“Now I am perfectly sure there is trouble on the trail ahead!” exclaimed Jack to himself, urging his pony forward at a yet faster gait.The idea of personal danger did not enterJack’s head, although the scene that he beheld as he swept round the curve on his galloping pony might well have alarmed an older hand than he.Coming toward him at a hard gallop was the Go ’long coach. Its six horses were in a lather of perspiration, and the coach was swaying wildly from side to side.From the top of the coach a fusilade was being fired at three men in pursuit of the vehicle. These latter appeared to be returning the fire with good will.At almost the same moment that his eye took in these details Jack became aware that, besides the driver of the stage, there were three other occupants on the roof.These were Captain Atkinson of the Rangers, Ralph Stetson and Walt Phelps.As he perceived all this Jack drew his pony back on his haunches and waited whatever might turn up, for it was his determination to aid his friends.

WHERE STRATEGY WON OUT.

Their coming was viewed by a dozen swarthy faces thrust out of the schoolhouse windows. As the aeroplane drew near the building Lieut. Sancho raised his voice above the humming of the engine.

In a loud authoritative tone he called for attention.

“If that schoolhouse is not vacated inside of five minutes,” he snapped out, “I shall dynamite it.”

A derisive chorus of yells greeted this, although a few voices could be heard begging the officer to have mercy.

“Hand me that ‘bomb,’ Diaz,” ordered the officer as the aeroplane came in full view of the schoolhouse.

Seizing this opportunity, Lieut. Sancho manipulated the air craft with one hand while he apparently examined the “bomb” with deep attention. He took good care while doing this to handle it so that it might be plainly seen by the Mestizos.

The aeroplane continued its flight above the schoolhouse roof, and then, swinging round, was driven back again. As they came over for the second time Lieut. Sancho hailed the recalcitrants once more.

“Throw your rifles and weapons out of the windows or I’ll drop the bomb. The five minutes is almost up.”

This time there was no answer but a sullen roar. Apparently the occupants of the schoolhouse were quarreling among each other. The aeroplane was flown a short distance and then turned for another flight toward the schoolhouse.

“Here, take the wheel, Diaz,” ordered Lieut.Sancho. “I’m going to let them see that we mean business.”

With Lieut. Diaz at the wheel, his brother officer manipulated the “bomb” in truly alarming manner. Bending low over it and striking a match, he appeared to light its fuse. Then, holding on to a brace, he half rose out of his seat, and as they neared the schoolhouse he raised his arm as if poising the “bomb” before hurling it.

It was too much for the nerves of the besieged. With wild cries to Lieut. Sancho not to kill them, they began casting their rifles and revolvers out of the windows in a perfect hail. Lieut. Sancho appeared to stay his hand, but was still menacing.

“Todos! Todos!” (“All! All!”)

He shouted this as they thundered close above the schoolhouse roof. As he did so the schoolhouse door was opened and out rushed the terrified, demoralized Mestizos, who were swiftly made prisoners by the Federals without their offering more than a nominal resistance.

By the time the last had been captured, while the aeroplane drew close to the scene, from the town, whence the proceedings had been watched with interest, several citizens came running, now that all the danger of bullets seemed to be past.

“Well, after what I’ve seen,” declared Jack, “never tell me that the aeroplane isn’t any good in warfare. To–day it averted what might have been a bloody fight, and, as it was, not a man was even scratched, except in his feelings. By the way, Lieutenant, what was in that ‘bomb’?”

“A very deadly mixture,” laughed the officer in return, “a solution of Epsom salts!”

“Here I be, the mayor of that thar berg back thar,” said an individual with a bristly straw–colored mustache, hastening up. “What be all these here connipations a–goin’ on out hyar?”

“Why, Mr. Mayor,” rejoined Jack, “these two gentlemen are officers of the Mexican Federal troops detailed to aerial duty.”

“Waal, what be they doin’ this side of therBorder? I’ve a good mind ter put ’em in ther calaboose, the dern long–horns,” declared the mayor angrily.

“Inasmuch as they saved a lot of children and their teacher from rough treatment by a band of rebels, I don’t think that would be very fair,” said Jack.

“Humph!” grunted the mayor, “I was comin’ out hyar to git ther mavericks on ther run myself, but I had an attack of indigestion.”

“I guess that was when you heard the shooting,” thought Jack to himself.

Aloud, though, he continued:

“The Mestizos were captured by as clever a ruse as can be imagined, Mr. Mayor.”

“Eh, how’s that, young feller?”

“By a bottle of Epsom salts.”

“Say, see here, kid, it ain’t healthy ter git funny with yer elders in these hyar parts.”

“It’s the exact truth, I assure you,” declared Jack smilingly, quite ignoring the mayor’s frown.He went on to tell the full details of the fight, or rather the argument, and when he had finished not one of the assembled crowd was there that did not join in the laugh.

“An’ how did you come to be hyar, young feller?” asked the mayor at the conclusion of Jack’s story. “You beant a greaser.”

“No, but I have found that there are a few brave and clever men on the other side of the line, too,” declared Jack.

“Ther kid’s right,” assented one or two in the crowd.

Jack then told as much of his adventures as he thought necessary, and at the conclusion the delighted mayor clapped him on the back so heartily that the breath was almost driven out of his body.

“I’ll give yer all ther liberty of Go ’long,” he said, sweeping his hand back toward his little principality.

But the two Mexican officers were obliged torefuse the mayor’s hospitality. A short time after the Federal troops had departed with their prisoners of war the two airmen winged their way southward to their headquarters.

As for Jack, he had ascertained that San Mercedes was only twenty miles or so off, so he determined to hire a horse and ride over there early in the morning. That night he slept in a bed for the first time in many long hours, and with his anxieties cleared away and his heart light, his slumbers were deep and dreamless. He was awakened by the ubiquitous mayor, who was also the hotel–keeper. Incidentally, the pretty school teacher turned out to be his daughter. Her enthusiastic praises of Jack the night before had made the boy blush hotly, but that was nothing to his embarrassment a few moments later when the town band, consisting of a cornet and a drum, headed a procession to the hotel and he had been compelled to give a speech.

Jack felt glad on waking that all that was over,and that in a short time he would be on his way back to his friends in the camp of the Rangers. The town of Go ’long did not offer much in the way of a menu beyond blackstrap and hot cakes, beans, bacon and black coffee, but Jack made a hearty meal on these frontier delicacies, after which he was informed that his pony was at the door.

His landlord, whose name, by the way, was Jerry Dolittle, refused to take a cent from the boy, and told him that when the Rangers came that way next his old friend, Captain Atkinson, could return him the pony.

The greater part of the population of Go ’long had accompanied Jack about a mile on his way, but soon he was ambling along alone with a straight road in front of him. Naturally his mind was busy with speculations as to what had occurred in the camp during his long absence from it.

“Good old Walt! Dear old Ralph! Won’tthey be glad to see me!” he mused as he rode along across the plains; “won’t I be glad to see them, too! Gracious, what a lot we shall have to talk about! I won’t blame them if they don’t believe half of it. I can hardly believe it myself sometimes, and that’s a fact.”

Between San Mercedes and Go ’long the rough road led through one of those peculiarly desolate ranges of hills common in that part of our country. As Jack’s pony began to mount into the recesses of these gloomy, barren hills, the lad knew that he had come a dozen miles or so from the Go ’long hotel.

The road wound along the bottom of the steep, sandy gullies, which were in some places streaked gorgeously with strata of various colors, red, blue and bright orange. Above burned a sky of brilliant blue. It would have made a splendid subject for the canvas of an impressionistic painter.

Jack knew that somewhere within these hillshe ought to meet the daily stage that ran between San Mercedes and Go ’long. At least, such had been the information given him before he set out from the latter place. He was quite anxious to see it, as on his lonely ride he had not encountered a human face. The solitary nature of the barren hills through which he was now riding depressed him, too, with a sense of remoteness and lonesomeness.

As Jack rode he commented to himself on the rugged character of the scenery. The road, which would have hardly been dignified with the name of a trail in the east, crawled along the side of the bare hills, in some places overhanging gloomy canyons.

“This must be a dangerous place to drive a stage,” thought Jack as he passed by a big rock and found himself traversing a bit of road which bordered the edge of a mountain spur, with a precipice on one side and a deep canyon on the other.

In fact, had the lad known it, that particular bit of road was reputed to be about the worst even in that wild land. Should the horses make a misstep on the trail, instant death to every occupant of the coach must result.

There were few drivers, even the most reckless, that cared to go at more than a snail’s pace over that stretch of road even with the quietest team. True, the passage had been made on one occasion at night, but that was for a wild and foolish bet and the authorities had put a stop to any more such practices. So that Jack was not far out when he mentally appraised that bit of road as being as dangerous and nasty a track to negotiate as he had ever seen; and Jack had seen a good deal of the wild southwest.

The boy had passed the dangerous bit of road and was jogging along in a deep divide between two ranges, when he was startled by a sudden sound right ahead of him.

It was unmistakably a shot.

A rifle shot, too, the boy judged. He spurred forward rapidly, not knowing well just what to expect when he should round a curve in the road just ahead.

It did flash into his mind that his landlord at Go ’long had spoken of the coach being held up occasionally, but Jack had placed little stock in the stories. In fact, he rather inclined to think that old Jerry was telling them with the idea of getting a rise out of a Tenderfoot.

Still, there were a few mines in that part of the country and occasionally gold was shipped through to Go ’long, which was not far from the main line of the Southern Pacific Railroad.

But Jack had only made a few paces forward on his quickened mount when three other shots rang out in rapid succession.

“Now I am perfectly sure there is trouble on the trail ahead!” exclaimed Jack to himself, urging his pony forward at a yet faster gait.

The idea of personal danger did not enterJack’s head, although the scene that he beheld as he swept round the curve on his galloping pony might well have alarmed an older hand than he.

Coming toward him at a hard gallop was the Go ’long coach. Its six horses were in a lather of perspiration, and the coach was swaying wildly from side to side.

From the top of the coach a fusilade was being fired at three men in pursuit of the vehicle. These latter appeared to be returning the fire with good will.

At almost the same moment that his eye took in these details Jack became aware that, besides the driver of the stage, there were three other occupants on the roof.

These were Captain Atkinson of the Rangers, Ralph Stetson and Walt Phelps.

As he perceived all this Jack drew his pony back on his haunches and waited whatever might turn up, for it was his determination to aid his friends.

CHAPTER XXI.THE STAGE HOLD–UP.Suddenly Jack saw the driver lurch forward in his seat. Perhaps he had been killed, perhaps he was only badly injured.Instantly Jack’s mind was made up. Snatching off his hat, he waved it about his head.At the same time he turned in his saddle and yelled back down the trail, as if a numerous band was coming round the turn:“Come on, boys! Hurry up and we’ll get them!”The pursuers of the coach stopped suddenly. Then they wheeled their ponies about and dashed off at top speed. Jack’s ruse had succeeded. Evidently the highwaymen thought that a large body of horsemen was behind Jack. At any rate,they deemed it more prudent not to wait to find out.But only one serious aspect of the situation was relieved by the abrupt departure of the highwaymen. The limp form of the coachman hung on the box, almost toppling off the seat. The lines had dropped from his hands and lay on the backs of the terrified wheelers. On they came, thundering at runaway speed, while Jack hesitated, his mind full of the thought of that dangerous bit of road that lay ahead.He shouted up to his companions on the roof:“Hullo, boys! I’m with you again!”There was a yell of joy. An answer to his hail came quickly.“Jack Merrill, by all that’s wonderful!”“Jack! How under the sun did he get here!”“It’s Jack on deck again as usual!”But Jack heard none of these joyous exclamations. He had turned his horse almost on its haunches, owing to the narrowness of the trail.In one swift flash of inspiration he had made up his mind as to the course he would pursue in checking the runaways.He spurred his pony alongside the wheelers, crying out in as soothing a tone as he could:“Whoa, boys! Whoa, there!”But the terrified animals paid no attention to him, nor had he much expected that they would. He only spoke to them in order that he might not frighten them worse when he spurred his pony alongside them.He might have ridden in front of them, but the risk of causing them to swerve and precipitate the whole coach from the trail was too great. The most dangerous part of the road lay about a mile ahead. If only he could check the team before they reached it, all might be well; if not—well, Jack did not dare to think of what would be the consequences in such a case. Thus began a mad, dangerous ride, a ride of grave risk to the daring young Border Boy.Of one thing he was thankful—the pony under him was a sure–footed, fast little beast, and perfectly broken, a rare thing in that part of our country. This made it possible for Jack to loop his own reins about the saddle horn and then, leaning out of the saddle, to seize the lines which the wounded driver had dropped.This done, he began to pull gently on them, taking care not to terrify the runaways further by jerking on their bits. Bracing himself in his stirrups, Jack exerted a steady pressure on the reins, at the same time using every means he knew of to soothe the maddened beasts.“Good boy, Jack! Good boy!” breathed Captain Atkinson from the roof of the coach, while he lifted the stricken stage driver to a place of safety. “Boys, Jack will save us yet,” he added, turning to his young companions.“You can bet on him every time,” came admiringly from Ralph. “He’ll conquer them yet.”But had Ralph known of the danger place thatlay not so far ahead now, he might not have been so confident.“Put on the brake!” Jack shouted back over his shoulder as they tore along that dangerous trail.“Bless my soul! Why didn’t I think of that?” exclaimed Captain Atkinson.Handing the driver over to the care of the boys, he clambered into the former’s seat, and, placing his foot on the heavy California–style brake, he jammed it down with all his force.“Good!” cried Jack as the wheels screeched and groaned.The horses appeared more terrified than ever at the racket made by the brake, but it was strong enough to check their speed perceptibly, struggle as they would.A short distance further came a little rise, beyond which lay the dangerous spot that Jack dreaded. The rise completed what the brake had begun.“They’re slackening speed, Jack!” cried Captain Atkinson.“They are, indeed!” hurled back Jack. “I think I’ll have them under control in a jiffy.”Jack’s words came true, but none too soon. A few seconds more and they would have reached the curve, beyond which lay the bit of narrow road. A thrill ran through Jack’s frame as he drew tight on the reins and felt the tired animals slow up to a trot and then, obedient to his voice, come to a halt, sweating and trembling, with distended nostrils.Jack lost no time in riding round to the heads of the leaders and holding tightly on to them. But there was little fight left in the horses. Dragging the coach with its locked brake up that hill had thoroughly exhausted them; they seemed glad to rest.“Get out, boys!” shouted Jack. “Come and give me a hand to uncouple the traces. I don’tthink they’ll run again, but we won’t take chances.”In an instant Ralph Stetson and Walt Phelps had sprung to the ground and one on either side of the coach were running forward to help Jack complete one of the bravest tasks a boy ever set himself to perform.Naturally, it was not till the horses were calmed down that they had a chance to talk. In the meantime the stage driver, whose name was Jed Hoster, had been revived and was found to be painfully but not seriously injured. He had been shot through the shoulder.We are not going to relate all that took place at that odd reunion in the heart of the Ragged Range, as the barren hills were called. Every one of my readers can picture for himself what a confusion of tongues reigned as the boys all tried to talk at once, and relate their many adventures since last they had met.After awhile the coach, with Captain Atkinsonat the “ribbons” and Jack riding close alongside, was driven to a broad part of the road and then turned around, as San Mercedes was closer to the spot where the attack had occurred than was Go ’long.Captain Atkinson told the boys that he had not the least idea who the men that made the attack could have been, but surmised that they must have possessed information that the coach was carrying a consignment of gold dust from a desert mine for shipment at Go ’long.“Had it not been for your smart trick, Jack,” he declared, “we should never have got off as easily as we did.”A sharp lookout was kept all the way back to San Mercedes for another sight of the would–be robbers. But nothing more was seen of them, and the return journey was made without incident. There was much rejoicing in the camp of the Rangers over the safe return of Jack, andeven Shorty appeared to be glad that the boy had come unscathed through so many perils.That was a gala night in camp. Songs and stories filled the time till far into the night. The three boys, who possessed remarkably good voices, sang several popular songs and were much applauded. At last they had to stop from sheer weariness.Each lad was anxious to go out on duty along the Rio Grande that same evening, but Captain Atkinson sternly forbade them doing so.“You turn into your blankets and get a good sleep,” he ordered. “I’ve got another job on hand for you to–morrow and I want you to be fresh when you tackle it.”Much mystified and not a little excited at these words, the boys obediently turned in and were soon sound asleep. They were astir bright and early the next morning—just as the last patrol of the night was coming in, in fact. The nighthad been an eventless one, they learned, the rebels having given no sign of their presence.Soon after breakfast Captain Atkinson approached the boys, who were polishing up their saddles and bits, accompanied by a tall, bronze–bearded man, whose tanned skin and keen gray eyes bespoke him a dweller in the open places.“This is Mr. Lionel Reeves, the rancher, of whom you may have heard,” he said. “Mr. Reeves, these are the lads of whom I spoke to you.”“I am sure you could not have picked better young fellows for the task you wish accomplished,” spoke Mr. Reeves, shaking hands warmly with each of the boys in turn. “By the way, do they know about it?”“Not yet,” rejoined Captain Atkinson, with a smile at the eager looks that three pairs of eyes turned on him.

THE STAGE HOLD–UP.

Suddenly Jack saw the driver lurch forward in his seat. Perhaps he had been killed, perhaps he was only badly injured.

Instantly Jack’s mind was made up. Snatching off his hat, he waved it about his head.

At the same time he turned in his saddle and yelled back down the trail, as if a numerous band was coming round the turn:

“Come on, boys! Hurry up and we’ll get them!”

The pursuers of the coach stopped suddenly. Then they wheeled their ponies about and dashed off at top speed. Jack’s ruse had succeeded. Evidently the highwaymen thought that a large body of horsemen was behind Jack. At any rate,they deemed it more prudent not to wait to find out.

But only one serious aspect of the situation was relieved by the abrupt departure of the highwaymen. The limp form of the coachman hung on the box, almost toppling off the seat. The lines had dropped from his hands and lay on the backs of the terrified wheelers. On they came, thundering at runaway speed, while Jack hesitated, his mind full of the thought of that dangerous bit of road that lay ahead.

He shouted up to his companions on the roof:

“Hullo, boys! I’m with you again!”

There was a yell of joy. An answer to his hail came quickly.

“Jack Merrill, by all that’s wonderful!”

“Jack! How under the sun did he get here!”

“It’s Jack on deck again as usual!”

But Jack heard none of these joyous exclamations. He had turned his horse almost on its haunches, owing to the narrowness of the trail.In one swift flash of inspiration he had made up his mind as to the course he would pursue in checking the runaways.

He spurred his pony alongside the wheelers, crying out in as soothing a tone as he could:

“Whoa, boys! Whoa, there!”

But the terrified animals paid no attention to him, nor had he much expected that they would. He only spoke to them in order that he might not frighten them worse when he spurred his pony alongside them.

He might have ridden in front of them, but the risk of causing them to swerve and precipitate the whole coach from the trail was too great. The most dangerous part of the road lay about a mile ahead. If only he could check the team before they reached it, all might be well; if not—well, Jack did not dare to think of what would be the consequences in such a case. Thus began a mad, dangerous ride, a ride of grave risk to the daring young Border Boy.

Of one thing he was thankful—the pony under him was a sure–footed, fast little beast, and perfectly broken, a rare thing in that part of our country. This made it possible for Jack to loop his own reins about the saddle horn and then, leaning out of the saddle, to seize the lines which the wounded driver had dropped.

This done, he began to pull gently on them, taking care not to terrify the runaways further by jerking on their bits. Bracing himself in his stirrups, Jack exerted a steady pressure on the reins, at the same time using every means he knew of to soothe the maddened beasts.

“Good boy, Jack! Good boy!” breathed Captain Atkinson from the roof of the coach, while he lifted the stricken stage driver to a place of safety. “Boys, Jack will save us yet,” he added, turning to his young companions.

“You can bet on him every time,” came admiringly from Ralph. “He’ll conquer them yet.”

But had Ralph known of the danger place thatlay not so far ahead now, he might not have been so confident.

“Put on the brake!” Jack shouted back over his shoulder as they tore along that dangerous trail.

“Bless my soul! Why didn’t I think of that?” exclaimed Captain Atkinson.

Handing the driver over to the care of the boys, he clambered into the former’s seat, and, placing his foot on the heavy California–style brake, he jammed it down with all his force.

“Good!” cried Jack as the wheels screeched and groaned.

The horses appeared more terrified than ever at the racket made by the brake, but it was strong enough to check their speed perceptibly, struggle as they would.

A short distance further came a little rise, beyond which lay the dangerous spot that Jack dreaded. The rise completed what the brake had begun.

“They’re slackening speed, Jack!” cried Captain Atkinson.

“They are, indeed!” hurled back Jack. “I think I’ll have them under control in a jiffy.”

Jack’s words came true, but none too soon. A few seconds more and they would have reached the curve, beyond which lay the bit of narrow road. A thrill ran through Jack’s frame as he drew tight on the reins and felt the tired animals slow up to a trot and then, obedient to his voice, come to a halt, sweating and trembling, with distended nostrils.

Jack lost no time in riding round to the heads of the leaders and holding tightly on to them. But there was little fight left in the horses. Dragging the coach with its locked brake up that hill had thoroughly exhausted them; they seemed glad to rest.

“Get out, boys!” shouted Jack. “Come and give me a hand to uncouple the traces. I don’tthink they’ll run again, but we won’t take chances.”

In an instant Ralph Stetson and Walt Phelps had sprung to the ground and one on either side of the coach were running forward to help Jack complete one of the bravest tasks a boy ever set himself to perform.

Naturally, it was not till the horses were calmed down that they had a chance to talk. In the meantime the stage driver, whose name was Jed Hoster, had been revived and was found to be painfully but not seriously injured. He had been shot through the shoulder.

We are not going to relate all that took place at that odd reunion in the heart of the Ragged Range, as the barren hills were called. Every one of my readers can picture for himself what a confusion of tongues reigned as the boys all tried to talk at once, and relate their many adventures since last they had met.

After awhile the coach, with Captain Atkinsonat the “ribbons” and Jack riding close alongside, was driven to a broad part of the road and then turned around, as San Mercedes was closer to the spot where the attack had occurred than was Go ’long.

Captain Atkinson told the boys that he had not the least idea who the men that made the attack could have been, but surmised that they must have possessed information that the coach was carrying a consignment of gold dust from a desert mine for shipment at Go ’long.

“Had it not been for your smart trick, Jack,” he declared, “we should never have got off as easily as we did.”

A sharp lookout was kept all the way back to San Mercedes for another sight of the would–be robbers. But nothing more was seen of them, and the return journey was made without incident. There was much rejoicing in the camp of the Rangers over the safe return of Jack, andeven Shorty appeared to be glad that the boy had come unscathed through so many perils.

That was a gala night in camp. Songs and stories filled the time till far into the night. The three boys, who possessed remarkably good voices, sang several popular songs and were much applauded. At last they had to stop from sheer weariness.

Each lad was anxious to go out on duty along the Rio Grande that same evening, but Captain Atkinson sternly forbade them doing so.

“You turn into your blankets and get a good sleep,” he ordered. “I’ve got another job on hand for you to–morrow and I want you to be fresh when you tackle it.”

Much mystified and not a little excited at these words, the boys obediently turned in and were soon sound asleep. They were astir bright and early the next morning—just as the last patrol of the night was coming in, in fact. The nighthad been an eventless one, they learned, the rebels having given no sign of their presence.

Soon after breakfast Captain Atkinson approached the boys, who were polishing up their saddles and bits, accompanied by a tall, bronze–bearded man, whose tanned skin and keen gray eyes bespoke him a dweller in the open places.

“This is Mr. Lionel Reeves, the rancher, of whom you may have heard,” he said. “Mr. Reeves, these are the lads of whom I spoke to you.”

“I am sure you could not have picked better young fellows for the task you wish accomplished,” spoke Mr. Reeves, shaking hands warmly with each of the boys in turn. “By the way, do they know about it?”

“Not yet,” rejoined Captain Atkinson, with a smile at the eager looks that three pairs of eyes turned on him.

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