CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XII.

THE AVIATOR BOYS’ BOLD DASH.

THE AVIATOR BOYS’ BOLD DASH.

THE AVIATOR BOYS’ BOLD DASH.

In their excitement at their discovery of the figure of the quesal the boys lingered till late in the afternoon at the foot of the cliff scanning it from every possible point of view in an effort to ascertain if there were not some hidden opening in it or at least some precipitous trail leading to its summit. Their scrutiny was a failure so far as any discovery of the kind was concerned, and somewhat disheartened at the impossibility of solving the significance of the quesal they started back for camp.

It was after dark when they reached it having come the last part of their way with the greatest difficulty owing to the failing light. Frank’s skill as a navigator however availed them and with the help of his pocket compass which he wore attached to his watch-chain, they finally made camp. Harry had over his shoulder his pig and after the lantern had been lit in the tent and the fire started the younger boy took out his skinning knife and started to dissect his prize.

As butchers the boys were not a success but they managed nevertheless to cut off some very appetizing chops and when these were placed on the tin cover that Harry rigged over the fire and greased with some of the pork fat the boys made a very good meal indeed. Their supper concluded they sat round the fire and discussed the adventures of the day.

They threshed the mystery of the figure of the quesal over and over in all its bearings but without arriving at any conclusion. It seemed to be a hopeless mystery why the bird had been put on the cliff-face.

“There must have been some purpose in it,” muttered Frank, for the twentieth time. “Men wouldn’t place the figure of the sacred bird on a cliff without intending to convey some meaning by it.”

“They may have just decided that the cliff needed decorating and put it there for ornament,” weakly suggested Harry.

“Not likely,” replied the elder boy. “No, Harry that quesal was put there for some good reason. It was meant to point out”—he stopped suddenly and then jumped to his feet with a wild whoop that made the jungle round about ring.

“By jove I’ve got it,” he cried exultingly.

“Got what,” questioned Harry, “hydrophobia or St. Vitus’s dance?”

“No,” roared Frank, “I’ve got it. The quesal—the secret it points to.”

“Well, go ahead. What have you made of it? Don’t keep me in suspense while you caper about like a Salome dancer,” shouted Harry.

“Its bill was pointing down, wasn’t it?” demanded Frank.

“Yes; but what has that to do?”—began Harry.

“It has everything to do with it,” exclaimed Frank. “It would be impossible for there to be an opening in the cliff face itself, wouldn’t it?”

“You are right. I guess we about settled that,” was the reply.

“Well, I may be wrong,” went on Frank, more seriously, “but I don’t think I am. My idea is that if we dig a bit at the foot of the cliff, about under the quesal’s beak, we shall find something interesting.”

“Buried treasure, hurray!” shouted Harry.

“More likely to be buried pottery,” laughed Frank. “I don’t take much stock in these buried treasure stories; but at any rate, even if we only find an old mule’s bones, it would be worth investigating.”

“We’ll start digging to-morrow morning,” gleefully cried Harry.

“No, I am afraid that we shall have to postpone that job,” rejoined Frank seriously, “we had another object when we started on this trip. The Chester expedition is out to get hold of Billy Barnes and yank him out of the peck of trouble we both know he’s walked into.”

“You are right, Frank, as usual,” cried Harry abashed, “I simply forgot for a moment.”

His eyes swept over the edge of the plateau and rested on the dark sea of jungle which lay stretched apparently into infinity beneath them.

“By jove,” he cried suddenly, “look there!” The lad pointed eastward excitedly. As Frank’s eyes followed the direction of his finger he saw something that made him get into the tent and out again with field glasses in two jumps. Harry’s sharp eyes had spied out half-a-dozen tiny points of fire ranged in a circle so far off that they seemed little more than bright pinpoints on the black curtain of night.

With night glass in hand Frank gazed long at the tiny glowing sparks. At last he handed the glasses to Harry with the remark:

“They are camp-fires all right but whether Rogero’s or Estrada’s we have no means of knowing at this distance.”

Harry confirmed Frank’s opinion after a long period of careful gazing.

“They must be a big distance from here,” he commented, “even with the glass they seem hardly more than blurs.”

“If they are Rogero’s camp-fires,” went on Frank without replying to Harry’s last remark, “it’s ten chances to one that Billy Barnes is there now. The only question is how we are to get to his aid without being ourselves discovered. They have machine guns undoubtedly, and if we were to be seen in daylight hovering about the camp it would be easy for them to bring us down and worst of all we should not have done any good.”

“That is true,” agreed Harry, “but what do you propose to do about it?”

“Go at night,” answered the practical Frank.

“At night?” repeated Harry in an amazed tone.

“Yes,—and to-night at that,” quietly went on Frank. “We couldn’t have a better object to aim for than those camp-fires and we shall be able to do a little scouting and be back here before daylight. I don’t want Rogero if that is his camp to discover our hiding-place.”

“How do you propose, even at night, to get near enough to the camp to do any good without being discovered?” asked Harry.

“My plan is this,” replied Frank, while his younger brother listened with rapt attention, “you will drop me from theGolden Eagleby the rope ladder when we near the camp. I will make my way there and see what I can find out. When I want you to pick me up I will flash my electric pocket-lamp twice and you who have been on the lookout, must sail slowly over me so that I can catch the end of the ladder.

“Of course the success of the plan depends upon if we can find an open space to swoop down on,” he went on. “I infer though from the fact that we can see the camp-fires at this distance that there must be a cleared space there.”

Harry had been silent while Frank outlined his scheme. As his brother ceased talking he shook his head determinedly.

“Do you think I’m going to stand for you taking all that risk even supposing you could do it,” he burst out. “Where do I come in? It isn’t fair.”

“When we left New York who did we decide was to be captain of theGolden Eagle?” asked Frank quietly.

“Why, you, of course,” rejoined Harry, “but we didn’t say anything about your assuming all the perils. If you are going to risk your life I want to run an equal amount of danger—you can’t go into this thing alone.”

“You will be running risk more than you imagine,” replied Frank, “you will have to run with the engine muffled down to a dangerously slow pace. There is a chance too of our coming to grief altogether in making a landing but we are in this thing now and we must see it through. If Billy Barnes is in that camp we are going to get him out of it no matter what may happen.”

“Well, of course you are captain and I have to obey orders,” said Harry, “if you finally do get in a tight place, though I shall try and take the ground even at the risk of wrecking the machine. If there’s going to be any fighting, we’ll be side by side.”

“That’s just the very thing I hope won’t happen,” was Frank’s reply. “I want to get Billy out of there with as little fuss as possible, if he’s there at all. I’ve got a plan that I think will be successful.”

“What is that?” asked Harry eagerly.

“Wait and see how it works,” laughed Frank, “and now come on we’ll turn in till midnight for we shall need all our wits and energy about us to-night.”

Both boys had formed the habit of waking at any hour they desired almost to the minute; a habit which some people possess naturally and others can acquire by practice. It was only a few minutes past twelve then by Frank’s watch that they both awoke and strapping on their revolvers hurried over to theGolden Eagle.

“We’ll have to lighten her of everything not absolutely necessary,” declared Frank, “you see I hope we shall have an extra passenger to bring back with us and it won’t do to risk her buoyancy by overloading.”

The provision basket was unstrapped, in accordance with the lightning plan, and everything not absolutely necessary to the operation of the craft cast remorselessly away. The sides and seats of the pilot housewere removable and it didn’t take long for the boys to unclamp these and store them in the tent. After about an hour and a half’s work theGolden Eaglewas pronounced by her young owners to be ready for flight.

“I don’t like to chance it but we’ve got to have a light,” said Frank as he switched on the searchlight, so that he could see where to drive theGolden Eagleon the “take-off.”

“I hardly suppose though,” he went on, “that it will be noticed away up here. We can shut it off as soon as we get underway.”

The rays of the light showed the young aviators that they would not have very much room for a running start unless the engine was driven at capacity. Even then the boys decided that in order to run no chances it would be necessary to back up to the extreme edge of the jungle that bordered the cleared plateau on its western edge. Accordingly Frank threw in the clutch that operated the bicycle wheels and as soon as he pulled over the reverse lever theGolden Eagleran backward to the desired point as easily as an automobile is backed in a crowded street.

A great flock of shrieking parrots arose from the surrounding tree-tops with cries of alarm as the brilliant white rays of the searchlight cut through the night. They settled back again, however, after a few scared revolutions about the strange, glowing-eyed monster that they saw beneath them.

As Harry gave the “all-ready” signal, Frank started the engine, which fell to work as usual without a hitch. TheGolden Eagledashed forward as he threw in the first, second and third speeds in rapid succession and with her twin-propellors revolving at 1,200 revolutions a minute, rose in a graceful, upward curve just clearing the tree-tops under Frank’s trained manipulation.

As she shot forward and upward, heading as straight as an arrow for the twinkling pinpoints—the objective of the midnight trip—both boys gave a sudden startled cry of “Hark!”

Ringing till the whole mountain resounded with the clangor of his wild tocsin, the bell-ringer was at work again!

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