DACRES had overestimated the advantage caused by the escort being barefooted. The men, unslinging their rifles, scaled the sun-dried bank with considerable agility and prepared to pour a volley into the fugitive locomotive. One thing only deterred them: they feared the presence of the dangerous contents of the trucks.
Still gathering speed the engine dashed across the bridge, greeted by an irregular and futile volley from the Valderian soldiers. Every shot either flew high above the cab or went wide.
The oscillation of the engine now began to be greatly in evidence. The speed soon mounted up to fifty miles an hour, practically a record for the La Paz railway. Dacres, still holding his revolver in readiness, was glad to lean back against a pile of coal and grasp a rail with his left hand; while his companion, standing behind the trembling fireman, kept looking anxiously through the square window in front of the cab.
The line, badly laid and maintained, caused the engine to swerve and jolt till at almost every instant it seemed as if it would leave the metals. Without a load the pace was exceedingly dangerous, till at Dacres' suggestion Henri gave orders for speed to be materially reduced.
Mile after mile sped by. Although the driver assured his captors that no other train was on the line between them and La Paz, Dacres had his doubts. He knew that the telegraph would soon be working, and utterly regardless of the lives of the engineer and driver, the railway authorities at La Paz would not hesitate to send a number of empty trucks down the long, gradual incline, or possibly tear up and portion off the track and derail the captured engine.
"Stop her!" ordered Dacres, an inspiration flashing across his mind, and his companion communicated the order to the driver, who seemed only too glad to obey.
With a heavy grinding of brakes the engine was brought to a standstill. The two Valderians, wondering what was going to happen, cowered in front of their resolute kidnappers.
During the run Dacres' sharp eyes had caught sight of a magazine-rifle of an American pattern stowed away inside the cab. Evidently the lot of an engineer on the republic of Valderia government railways was not a happy one, since he had to be provided with a rifle to defend the train from robbers and "express agents."
Seizing the weapon Dacres jerked back the bolt. A loaded cartridge falling out and another appearing ready to be thrust into the breech, told him that the magazine was charged.
"Keep an eye on both men for half a minute," he cautioned, then resting the barrel of the rifle on a ledge of the cab he took deliberate aim at one of the two insulators of the nearest telegraph post.
Simultaneously with the sharp crack of the rifle the insulator flew into pieces, while the copper wire dropped to the ground, cut completely through.
With a hideous yell of fright the engineer, imagining that his comrade had been deliberately shot from behind, leapt from the cab.
"Don't fire," shouted Dacres, as Henri was about to blaze away with his revolver. "Mark time on the fireman."
So saying Dacres jumped from the engine and started in pursuit of the fugitive. Ere the latter had covered fifty yards the Englishman overhauled him. The moment the Valderian felt himself gripped by the shoulder he stopped short, whipped out a formidable-looking knife which he had hitherto kept concealed, and made a savage lunge at his pursuer.
Dacres felt the keen blade pass between the right arm and his ribs. Adroitly springing backwards he raised his revolver and fired—not at the half-frantic engineer but at the glittering blade.
The knife was wrenched from the Valderian's grasp. He fell on his knees, begging for mercy. "Get up, you silly idiot," roared Dacres. "We are not going to hurt you. Get back to the engine."
Although the fellow knew not a word of English, the gestures that Dacres used were sufficiently emphatic to be understood. Like a lamb he allowed himself to be taken back towards the post he had but recently deserted.
Henri was alone on the engine. The fireman, profiting by the diversion caused by Dacres' revolver shot, had made a bolt for liberty. Forbearing to fire on the fugitive, the Frenchman watched the fellow running for dear life through the long grass of the plain that stretched on either hand as far as the eye could see.
"Can't be helped," said Dacres cheerfully. "We'll have to do our own stoking—putting the coals on the furnace, you know. Tell that engineer he's in no danger so long as he sticks to his post and obeys orders. After all, it doesn't very much matter. In fact, it's a good job, since we've only one man to keep in order. Now for the remaining telegraph wire. Tell the fellow to turn round and see what I am going to do, in case he gets another jumpy fit."
With the second shot the wire was severed. Telegraph communication between Naocuanha and La Paz was, for the time being, totally interrupted.
"Hope we're not too late," muttered Dacres.
"They may have wired through already. If they have there's ten precious minutes thrown away. Tell the fellow to start her up again, Henri."
As the engine gathered speed Dacres glanced back. The single track was visible for nearly four miles. There were no signs of pursuit from that direction.
Ejecting the cartridge from the magazine of the rifle, the Englishman found that there were still eleven rounds. Having made this reassuring discovery he reloaded, set the weapon carefully in a corner, and devoted his attention to keeping a sharp look-out.
The engine had now gained the foot of the forty-five mile incline up to La Paz. Along this section the danger of being derailed by a loaded truck was not only possible but probable, provided the authorities at La Paz had already been warned. So long as the rail ran in a fairly straight direction there would be ample time to slow down and jump off before the impact occurred; but the fugitives knew that before long the railway would make several sharp and awkward turns.
Soon it became evident that more coal was required. Ordering the engineer to step back and face aft, Dacres plied the shovel while Henri still kept the prisoner covered.
As the vile Lota coal was shovelled into the furnace, clouds of black smoke poured from the squat inverted triangle-shaped funnel, and eddying downwards momentarily obscured the out-look.
The amateur fireman was in the act of throwing on another shovelful when Henri shouted into his ear and with his disengaged arm pointed obliquely in the direction of Naocuanha.
A rift in the pungent cloud of smoke revealed a very unpleasant sight. Overhauling the fugitives, hand over fist, were two large biplanes.
The engineer saw them also, and a wave of ashy grey passed over his sallow olive features.
"Madre!" he gasped. "They will blow us all up."
He realized that the danger was greatest from his compatriots. Without the least compunction the Valderian airmen would sacrifice the luckless engineer if by so doing they would involve the fugitives in the destruction of the engine.
"Tell that fellow to get back upon the foot-plate," ordered Dacres, at the same time picking up the rifle. "Keep a bright look out ahead, Henri. We'll stop their little game."
The young Frenchman was now entirely carried away by the excitement of the wild ride. What little fear he had at the commencement of the adventure had completely left him. Although he lacked the cool, calculating manner of his Anglo-Saxon companion, and manifested all the vivacity of the Gaul, he was not deficient in courage.
There could be no doubt as to the intentions of the two aeroplanes. Flying low—less than three hundred feet from the ground—they followed the line of rails. In front and slightly the pilot in each was a light automatic gun. The airman-gunner, however, was busy not with this weapon but with a number of cylindrical objects that Dacres recognized as bombs. The idea of the airman was to overtake the fugitive engine and drop a charge of high explosive on or immediately in front of it. This manoeuvre must be frustrated at all costs.
Setting the sliding bar of the back-sight to a hundred yards, the Englishman waited. He realized that he was at a disadvantage owing to the jarring and swinging of the engine, but the targets were fairly large ones and moving at less than ten miles an hour more than the object of their pursuit.
Soon the whirr of the aerial propeller of the leading biplane was audible above the rush of the wind and the rattle of the locomotive. The bomb-thrower poised one of his missiles.
"Idiot!" muttered Dacres. "He'd make a better show of it with that automatic gun—well, here goes."
Gently pressing the trigger, the Englishman let fly. The bullet passed close enough to the pilot to make him duck, but without cutting any of the wire stays and struts it zipped through the upper plane and whistled away into space.
"Lower, Basil, my boy," quoth Dacres reprovingly.
The pilot, realizing the danger to which he was exposed, tilted the elevating planes.
As the biplane darted upwards the Englishman's rifle spoke again. The brilliant sunshine seemed out-classed by the vivid flash that followed. Fragments of the aeroplane flew in all directions, falling with widely varying velocities to the ground, while only a trailing cloud of smoke marked the position of the unfortunate Valderian biplane a second before it was blown out of existence.
Struck by the furious eddy that followed the detonation the second aeroplane rocked violently. The gunner grasped one of the struts as if expecting the frail craft to plunge headlong to the ground. It lurched through the still falling debris of its disintegrated consort, then, gradually recovering its equilibrium it followed grimly in the wake of the fleeing locomotive.
"There's pluck for you," said Dacres under his breath. "I should have thought it was enough to knock the stuffing out of those fellows. Ah! they're going to tickle us up with that gun."
Three shots from Dacres' rifle in quick succession had no apparent effect. The biplane, soaring upwards, was momentarily presenting a smaller target against the dazzling light of the afternoon sky.
"Phit, phit, phit!" The automatic gun began spitting out bullets. Most of the shot went wide. One perforated the funnel, another ricochetted from the huge bell that takes the place of a steam whistle on American locomotives; the rest kicked up the dust.
Crack went the Englishmen's rifle: this time a bad miss.
"Phit, phit, phit!" The Valderian bullets were finding billets now. One, penetrating the boiler plate, let loose a fierce blast of hissing steam; another, piercing the roof of the cab, struck a pressure gauge, sending fragments of glass in all directions. The speed of the locomotive began to decrease appreciably.
This was more than the driver could stand. He threw himself flat upon the foot-plate, holding his hands to his ears as if to shut out the din of the unique engagement.
"Take cover!" shouted Dacres to his comrade. "Don't worry about the engine: she's stopping, worse luck."
The comparatively rapid diminution of speed on the part of the locomotive resulted in the aeroplane overshooting the limit at which it could use the automatic gun. The respite from the missiles was welcome until Dacres noticed the observer making ready to drop a bomb.
Three cartridges only remained in the Englishman's rifle; after that he would have to trust to his revolver. Beyond a range of fifty yards that weapon was practically useless for deliberate aiming.
Once again Dacres raised his repeater. He lingered over the sights till the biplane was almost overhead, then pressed the trigger.
"Missed, by Jove!" he ejaculated disgustedly. "Try it with your revolver, Henri."
Before Dacres could reload the Frenchman emptied four of the chambers of his revolver. The Valderian aeroplane, swinging like a wounded bird, began to fall towards the earth. The left aileron, bending upwards, threw the tottering fabric more and more on one side. The pilot, still grasping the wheel, was wedged against the padded rim of the chassis. His companion, hurled from his seat, fell to the ground with a dull thud thirty seconds before the biplane crashed upon the track.
Then with a detonation that shook earth and sky the six dynamite bombs exploded, blowing the wrecked aircraft to atoms and leaving a hole six feet in depth where the railway lines had been.
Almost at that identical moment the locomotive came to a standstill a hundred yards from the scene of the disaster. Fortunate it was that Dacres and his companion were sheltered from the blast of the explosives by the riddled hood of the cab, for stones and fragments of metal flew all around them.
Well-nigh deafened and with their senses dulled by the awfulness of the termination of the encounter the two men rose to their feet. The engineer was still lying face downwards upon the foot-plate.
"Now what's to be done?" asked Dacres, more of himself than with the idea of asking Henri's opinion. "Here we are stranded fifty miles from the 'Meteor' and with that rotten town of La Paz between us and our friends."
"We must walk," said the Frenchman. "See, there is our guide: the peaks of the Sierras. But this poltroon?" and he pointed to the motionless Valderian.
"Let him stop," replied Dacres. "He'll buck up when he finds he's alone. It will be all the better for us if he doesn't see in which direction we go."
Removing the breech-action from the rifle, Dacres began to make preparations for the long tramp. A bottle half-full of wine, a couple of small cakes made of Indian corn, and a piece of sun-dried meat comprised their stock of provisions after a careful search of the lockers of the cab had been made.
Presently Henri astonished his companion by shouting "Prenez garde!" and pointing through the forward window, which was partly obscured by the steam that was still escaping from the boiler.
Whipping out his revolver in anticipation of another attack, Dacres looked in the direction indicated.
Travelling swiftly down the long incline was a number of trucks. In another two or three minutes they would be crashing into the stationary engine.
"JUMP for it!" exclaimed Dacres.
Henri hesitated, then, prodding the engineer with his foot, gave additional warning of the threatened danger.
The fellow moved not a muscle. Thinking he had fainted through sheer fright, the Englishman grasped him under the arms and dropped him out on the ground. As he fell the Valderian rolled over on his face. He was stone dead: a bullet from the second aeroplane had pierced his heart.
Looking over his shoulder Dacres ran, following his fleeter-footed companion.
"Lie down when I give the word," he exclaimed breathlessly. "Now—lie down."
Both men threw themselves flat upon the ground at eighty yards from the railroad.
The noise of the impact was deafening. The splintering of wood, the clang of iron, and the hiss of the water upon the scattered contents of the furnace were outvoiced by the thud of the debris, which, hurled far and wide by the concussion, fell in showers about the prostrate survivors from the stolen locomotive.
Dacres rose to his feet. It was a bad enough smash, but he had expected it to be worse, for the trucks looked suspiciously similar to those left on the siding near Naocuanha. He felt convinced that had the authorities at La Paz the means at their disposal they would not have hesitated to dump a heap of dynamite cartridges into the trucks to make a complete business of "wiping out" the two fugitives.
He realized that their position was far from enviable. The mere fact of the attempt on the part of the Valderians at La Paz was sufficient to prove that Dacre's act of cutting the wires had failed to attain its desired object. The two comrades had a dangerous journey before them. Ill-equipped, ill-provisioned, and in an open country where the Republican irregulars were practically certain to be in evidence, many perils would beset them ere they rejoined the "Meteor."
On the other hand, there was a chance that when the Valderian troops arrived at the scene of the disaster they might come to the conclusion that the two fugitives were either killed in the collision and buried under the debris, or else that they were blown to atoms in one of the two explosions caused by the head-long fall of the biplanes. Taking this for granted, the Valderians might abandon the pursuit.
Again, Dacres and his companion had dealt the Republic a heavy blow. In addition to the loss of the two aeroplanes the railway track between Naocuanha and La Paz had been torn up in two places, the damage being beyond all chance of a speedy repair. In the event of the Valderians having to abandon the capital and fall back upon La Paz, their retreat would be seriously impeded.
Having shared their scanty load of provisions the two comrades set out on their long and necessarily circuitous route towards the Sierras. Fortunately the grass was dry and left little or no indication of their tracks. In places the plain was composed of mud, still moist from the recent rains. In crossing these patches Henri suggested that they should walk backwards, so that should the faint trail be followed through the grass the trackers would come to the conclusion that they had hit upon the route of two men walking towards the railway instead of from it. To heighten the deception Dacres and his companion removed their boots when crossing the plastic mud. Their trail then resembled that of two Indians of the plains, who invariably go barefooted, although they mostly ride on horseback.
Before nightfall they had put twelve miles between them and the place where they had made their compulsory landing from the locomotive.
"It is time to halt for the night," declared de la Fosse, pointing to the sun, now about to dip beyond the horizon.
"Tired?" asked Dacres laconically.
"No, only we cannot see our way after dark."
"Is that all?" asked the Englishman. "If so we may as well carry on and sleep during the day. I can shape a course by the stars."
With the fall of night the temperature dropped rapidly. The travellers could well have done with the poncho or South American cloak, for in spite of their steady progress the keen air of the uplands cut them like a knife. They were already footsore; the long, tough grass impeded them; they were unable to see the ruts in the hard ground; nevertheless, they toiled on, Dacres setting the direction by means of the relative position of the Southern Cross.
"What is that glare in the sky?" asked Henri, stopping and pointing behind him. Away to the west and close to the horizon a blurr of pale light flickered incessantly.
"Search light," replied Dacres.
"Where, then?"
"From the British fleet. On a clear night like this we can see the glare nearly a hundred miles away. Well, suppose we rest for half an hour and have some food?"
To this proposal Henri willingly assented. He was more done up than he would admit, but had gamely struggled to overcome fatigue and an almost irresistible desire for sleep.
Sitting back to back, as a mutual protection from the cold, the two men ate and drank in silence. They dare not smoke, knowing that the flicker of a match or the glow of a cigarette might indicate their presence.
"Time," announced Dacres in a low voice.
It required a great effort for them to regain their feet. The cold had numbed their weary limbs, and the Englishman was forced to come to the unpleasant conclusion that the halt had done them more harm than good.
On and on they trudged till the dawn. The Sierras, their snow-clad peaks crimsoned by the rising sun long before the orb of day appeared above the horizon, seemed as far off as they had on the previous night.
"You sleep for a few hours," suggested Dacres after another scanty and unappetising repast. "I'll keep watch."
The young Frenchman protested, but in vain. His companion was obdurate. With a quaint gesture of despair Henri stretched himself upon the grass and was soon fast asleep, utterly worn out with his long period of wakefulness.
Although Dacres was heavy-eyed he stoutly resisted the inclination to slumber. Very easily he could have shut his eyes and dozed while he was standing. More than once his head fell upon his chest to the accompaniment of a painful jerk of the back of his neck. Then with a sudden start he would open his eyes and survey the seemingly boundless expanse of waving grass in every direction, save where the distant mountains reared themselves in solitary grandeur. For two hours he kept the tedious vigil, the rapidly increasing heat of the sun adding to his discomfort.
"What's that?" he muttered, as a number of small moving objects at a distance of at least two miles caught his attention.
He rubbed his eyes, thinking possibly that his sense of vision was playing him a trick. No, he was not mistaken. There was movement—the movement of horses and possibly horsemen.
Without attempting to awaken his comrade Dacres dropped on his knees and watched. His sleepiness had temporarily vanished. He was now in full possession of his mental and bodily faculties.
"Horsemen, by Jove!" he muttered. "Indians probably. I'll keep well out of sight and perhaps they will pass by at a safe distance."
The riders were approaching rapidly: not from the direction Dacres and his companion had come, but from the south-east. If they maintained their present course they would pass about two hundred yards from the place where the travellers lay concealed.
Presently one of the riders reined up. His example was followed by the rest of the group. They sat on their horses like living statues, awaiting their leader's orders.
The Englishman was right in his surmise. They were Indians of the plains, more than half savages, born horsemen and crafty fighters. Most of them were naked save for a piece of hide round their waists and descending nearly to their knees. They were all armed with long knives, while, in addition, some carried spears of about ten feet in length and others had bolas coiled up ready to throw at any moment.
They evidently were suspicious. It seemed incredible that even their sharp eyes could detect the presence of the two men crouched in the long grass, but Dacres came to the uncomfortable conclusion that the Indians were about to advance towards the spot where he and his companion lay hidden.
Dacres grasped the sleeping Frenchman gently and firmly by the hand. The pressure caused him to open his eyes and to become wide awake without a spasmodic start that would have inevitably betrayed them.
"Indians!" he whispered.
Henri rolled over, then quietly raising his head peered between two tall tufts of grass. Without replying he deliberately drew his revolver.
Presently the horsemen—there were eleven of of them—broke into two parties and galloped towards the two Europeans, yet sufficiently apart to pass within fifty yards on either side.
Still wondering how the Indians were aware of their hiding-place, and hoping against hope that such was not the case, the two comrades still crouched in the grass; but in a very short time their doubts were at an end, for having formed a complete cordon the horsemen began to gallop round and round and at the same time gradually closing in upon their quarry.
"Do not let them get close enough to throw their bolas," cautioned Henri, "or we shall be entangled and as helpless as rats in a trap."
"Back to back, then," said Dacres. "Don't fire unless it is absolutely necessary."
The Indians had received warning in the night from one of their number who had come across the strange trail. Knowing that the two men were without horses—a rare occurrence on the plains—they came to the right conclusion that the strangers were in difficulties. Thus, they decided, it would be an easy matter to kill them, rob their bodies and bury them. The disappearance of two white men in a country where murder is a common, everyday occurrence, would raise little or no comment on the part of the lax authorities of the Valderian Republic.
Up sprang the two comrades, and steadying their revolvers in the crook of the left arm, each aimed at the Indian nearest to him. The crowd, without slackening speed, increased the distance between them and their intended victims, shouting the while in a jargon of which Henri, who could understand the language of his father's servants, failed to grasp the meaning.
After a while the Indians, who failed to understand why the two men refrained from opening fire, began to contract their circular formation. They could only come to the conclusion that the strangers' ammunition was exhausted, and that they were merely pointing empty weapons in the hope that the horsemen would beat a retreat.
Nevertheless, the attackers took ample precautions. Still keeping their horses at a hot pace, they threw themselves sideways out of the saddle, holding on only by one foot thrown across the backs of their steeds. Thus, practically sheltered by their horses' bodies, the Indians presented no great target to the white men's weapons.
Dacres understood their tactics. The constant whirling of the living circle tended to daze the senses of the two men in the centre. The Indians, having come within easy throwing distance, would hurl their bolas, then rush in and complete their murderous work with their keen knives.
"Fire!" exclaimed Dacres.
Two shots rang out as one. The Englishman's bullet brought down a horse, throwing its rider headlong and causing the animal immediately behind to stumble. As the Indian behind the second horse fell clear another shot from Dacres settled his little account.
Henri's shot was equally fortunate. Apparently it hit one of the Indians in the thigh, for he dropped and lay still. The horse instantly stopped, its fore legs thrust straight in front of it. Although untouched it remained by its master.
This totally unexpected welcome was more than the cowardly Indians could stand. With wild shrieks they rode off at full gallop, leaving two of their number and three steeds on the scene of action.
"We will take that horse!" exclaimed Henri, pointing to the one that remained by the body of its rider.
So saying he advanced cautiously so as not to affright the animal. Dacres, having recharged the empty chambers of his revolver, watched the proceedings. He did not feel at all capable of tackling a partly savage animal.
The Indian to whom it belonged still lay on the grass, his body huddled up and the long hide rope that served as a bridle and tether combined grasped in his hand.
"Look out!" shouted Dacres.
The warning came a trifle too late. With a spring resembling that of a jaguar the Indian threw himself upon the unsuspecting Frenchman, who had replaced his revolver in his holster.
In vain Henri leapt backwards and raised his left arm to ward off the stroke of the Indian's keen knife. The blade glittered in the sunlight. Even as it fell Dacres raised his revolver and fired. Although the distance between him and the Indian was a good twenty yards the Englishman's aim was true. Shot through the head the fellow dropped, writhed convulsively for a few seconds and then lay quiet—as dead as the proverbial door-nail.
"Hold up, old man!" exclaimed Dacres encouragingly, but to his great consternation he saw his companion reel. Before he could get to him the young Frenchman was lying on the ground close to the body of his treacherous assailant.
A rapidly darkening stain on Henri's shirt left no doubt as to the locality of the wound. Deftly cutting away the cloth Dacres found that the knife, partially parried by de la Fosse's left arm, had missed his heart, but had made a fairly deep gash between the third and fourth ribs; while in addition there was a clean cut on his forearm about four inches from the elbow.
Being without medical bandages and knowing that their scanty supply of water was none too pure, Dacres was puzzled as to what was to be done. Finally he tore the cleanest portions of his own shirt into long strips and bound the wounds tightly, after allowing sufficient time for the flow of blood to wash away any impurities that might have been communicated by the Indian's knife.
"Here's a pretty mess," muttered Dacres. "This is a fine way to look after Henri, after my promise to his father. Stranded miles from anywhere, in a hostile country, and with a wounded man to look after. A nice out look, by Jove! but it might be worse."
HALF an hour later Henri opened his eyes. He looked about him for nearly a minute, then bravely attempted to rise.
Dacres heard him muttering in French but could not distinguish the words.
"The horse," he murmured, pointing with his uninjured hand to the animal that was still standing quietly browsing by its dead master.
"All right," said Dacres soothingly. "I'll see about that later on. Drink some of this water."
The young Frenchman gratefully accepted the proffered bottle, but steadfastly refused to drink more than a very small quantity.
"I feel much better now," he said. "Am I hurt very much? The rogue was too quick for me."
"It's not dangerous," answered Dacres. Neither was it. Nevertheless, should complications ensue owing to the lack of proper medical attention the result might easily prove to be fatal but for the present all that could be done was to cheer his wounded comrade and persuade him to attempt to continue his toilsome journey.
"How goes it?" asked Dacres, having assisted Henri to his feet.
"I feel so: my head goes round and round, but I shall be all right soon. Try to catch the horse," he persisted.
"Suppose I must tackle the brute, if it's only to humour Henri," thought Dacres, then, with considerable misgiving, he approached the animal.
Greatly to his agreeable surprise he found that the horse allowed itself to be quietly led away from its former master. The change of ownership did not seem to matter so long as the animal had a human being to assert his authority.
The knowledge that the food supply was running short, prompted Dacres to examine the bodies of the slain Indians in the hope of finding something in their possession that would sustain him and his companion; but he was disappointed.
"Are you fit to make a start?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Henri.
"Then I'll lift you on to the horse's back."
"But you?" objected de la Fosse. "We can both ride."
"Thanks, I won't risk it," said Dacres emphatically. "If I fell off I might drag you with me. I'm game for another forty miles, I think; so let me give you a heave up."
Walking by the animal's side the Englishman set a steady pace, his face still towards the seemingly elusive Sierras. The heat was now terrific, and although Henri bore himself bravely, he suffered agonies.
Shortly after noon the travellers came across a small stream. This was indeed good fortune. The water-bottle was refilled, the horse watered, and additional wet bandages placed over Henri's wounds; while Dacres stripped and revelled in the comparatively cool stream.
"I think I know where we are," said de la Fosse. "This river flows through San Carlos and La Paz. We ought to be within ten kilometres of the road my father and I were following when we saw the two airships."
"In that case we ought to reach the 'Meteor' before to-night," said Dacres reassuringly, but in his mind he had grave doubts. The terrors of the mountain pass loomed largely in his imagination. Burdened by a wounded comrade the passage would be hazardous in the extreme.
Buoyed up with hope Henri was impatient to resume the journey, and Dacres, willing to humour him, complied. But the young Frenchman's physical strength was not equal to his mental powers, for within an hour of leaving the river he suddenly fell forward in a dead faint.
Dacres caught him before he fell to the ground, then, lowering him gently, he rested his comrade's head on a mound, at the same time sheltering the luckless man from the fierce rays of the sun.
To the Englishman's dismay the horse, hitherto quiet, reared, then galloped off at full speed. The reason for the stampede was not difficult to see; at less than a mile off were the Indians, reinforced till they numbered thrice the original band.
Dacres was one of those men who see and enlarge upon perils a long way ahead. Perhaps it was natural caution. But the sudden appearance of the swarm of natives simply roused the British bull-dog spirit within him. He was metaphorically about to fight with his back against the wall, although actually there was nothing to protect him from a rear attack.
Carefully he drew Henri's revolver from his holster, opened the breech and assured himself that the six chambers were loaded. Then, placing the remainder of the cartridges on the ground within easy reach, he knelt with a revolver in each hand, ready to open fire.
Again the attackers prepared to execute their enveloping tactics. They were now within two hundred yards.
"Come on, you brutes!" shouted Dacres furiously. "Come on, and have a jolly good thrashing."
The possibility of being wiped out never entered his mind. He was now a fighter who "saw red."
A yell burst from the horsemen; then, simultaneously, the whole crowd broke into a gallop, the hoofs of the horses making a terrific din upon the hard ground.
Suddenly, just as the attack was about to split into two sections, one of the men reined in his horse, almost pulling it on its haunches. He pointed towards the sky, with fear and astonishment written plainly on his dark brown features.
The next moment the Indians had turned tail and were riding for dear life.
Dacres looked over his shoulder, half expecting to have fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire, and that the cause of the panic was the approach of a body of Valderian roughriders.
But to his astonishment and delight he beheld the "Meteor" flying at full speed and momentarily looming up larger and larger.
Dacres sprang to his feet and emptied both revolvers at his retreating foes. They were already out of range, but the shots served to attract the attention of the airship in case Whittinghame had not yet sighted his absent comrade.
Five minutes later the "Meteor"—still gigantic in spite of the fact that she had been shortened by two hundred feet—alighted upon the grassy plain The instant the rope-ladder was dropped men hastened to the assistance of Dacres and his stricken friend, foremost amongst them being Whittinghame and Antoine de la Fosse.
"My son—is he dead?" asked the elder Frenchman, who was almost beside himself with anxiety.
"No; he's fainted," replied Dacres. "He'll be all right directly Hambrough takes him in hand."
Quickly the crew of the "Meteor" rigged up a rigid stretcher, and upon this, lashed on to prevent him from slipping, Henri de la Fosse was taken on board the airship. As soon as the rest of the officers and men were embarked the Dreadnought of the Air rose to a height of ten thousand feet.
"Well?" asked Whittinghame with his characteristic brevity when asking a question.
"It's all right up to the present, sir," said Dacres. "Your brother is safe and so is Admiral Maynebrace. I've seen them both. It is essential that we should attempt their rescue at three o'clock Friday morning."
In spite of his efforts to suppress it, Dacres gave a prodigious yawn.
"Excuse me," he continued, "but I've had no sleep for nearly forty hours and precious little food."
"Then, make a good meal," said Whittinghame, "and have a sound sleep. There's plenty of time before the day and hour you mention. When you've told your story we'll lay our plans—no, not now. I refuse to hear another word till you have eaten and slept."
The appearance of the "Meteor" in the very nick of time was not a coincidence. As soon as Antoine de la Fosse had set the wireless apparatus in order a message came through from Whittinghame's secret agent at Naocuanha to the effect that two Europeans, posing as electrical engineers, had escaped from the city by taking forcible possession of a locomotive. Directly Whittinghame heard this he ordered the final work of assembling the four remaining sections of the "Meteor" to be carried out with the utmost celerity; but before the ballonettes could be recharged, another "wireless" was received announcing that the locomotive had been derailed after having been the means of destroying two of the Valderian air-fleet. It was supposed that the fugitives had escaped since there were no traces of their bodies under the wreckage.
"They've outwitted the rascals, de la Fosse," exclaimed the Captain when he received the news. "Trust Dacres to wriggle out of a tight corner. He'll see that your son comes through this business, too. Now, where do you think they'll make for?"
"Not to the south side of the line, monsieur le capitaine; Henrie has too much sense to go to our home. He will doubtless lead Monsieur Dacres across the plain to the south."
"Very well; we'll make a search," decided Whittinghame.
Thus the "Meteor," the damage having been made good as far as possible, set out on her voyage of investigation. Keeping at a great altitude she passed within ten miles of La Paz and shaped a course parallel to the railway till almost abreast of the place where the engine was derailed. Then, by a pure chance, the crew "spotted" the bodies of the Indians and their horses who had fallen in the first encounter.
Descending they made a careful search, and Dacres' trail as he led the captured horse was picked up across an expanse of bare ground. The general direction was followed by the "Meteor" till the alert look-out saw the Indians about to charge down upon the Englishman and his unconscious comrade.
For the next twenty-four hours the "Meteor" remained at a height of ten thousand feet, drifting with the light air current towards the Sierras. Whittinghame did not mean to anticipate the time arranged by his brother for the arrival of the airship at the Cavarale. For one thing he wished Dacres to be as fit as possible after his arduous experiences. He also was influenced by the fact that quietude was essential to Henri de la Fosse, if he were to be saved from an attack of fever following his wounds.
Whittinghame would have landed the patient and his father but for the fact that, in consequence of the affair at the Cavarale it would not be safe for the Frenchman to risk a meeting with any of the Valderian troops. As for Gaston he was miles away from the seat of war, and would not be in any danger, at least, for some considerable time. Ere that Whittinghame proposed to embark him and take the reunited family on board the "Meteor" when she started on her homeward voyage.
As soon as the sun set the "Meteor," still keeping at a great height, started on her run to the outskirts of Naocuanha. There was plenty of time, since the actual attempt to rescue the prisoners was not to commence till one in the morning.
Fortunately the night was dark. The stars were obscured; the searchlights of the capital were directed solely towards the seaport of Zandovar, for the garrison was in hourly dread of a surprise attack on the part of the British seamen and marines.
Shortly after midnight the "Meteor" arrived above the city of Naocuanha—unseen and unsuspected. The capital was at her mercy. Had Whittinghame wished he could have dropped powerful charges of explosives upon the buildings, but the idea of taking a mean advantage did not commend itself to his chivalrous instincts.
At 12.30 Dacres with Callaghan and ten of the crew entered No. 5 compartment. They were fully armed, while in addition a supply of short cords and two sponges saturated with chloroform were provided.
"All ready?" asked Whittinghame.
"Ay, ay, sir."
A metallic clang echoed through the after-section. The bolt action had been unlocked and No. 5 compartment was no longer joined to the remaining three divisions.
Slowly the ultra-hydrogen was pumped out of several of the ballonettes, and gently the independent division sank towards the earth.
Stationed at an open flap in the floor, Dacres "conned" the descending part of the airship under his command. Once or twice it was necessary to start the motors to bring the two hundred odd feet of gas-bag immediately over the rectangular courtyard of the Cavarale.
By the aid of his night-glasses Dacres could distinguish the outlines of the prison with tolerable ease. Nevertheless, every moment of the descent was one of suspense.
At any instant the huge overhead bulk might be seen by an alert sentry. In that case a bomb was to be thrown into the soldiers' quarters, and profiting by the confusion the airship was to descend as fast as possible and let loose her armed crew upon the terrified garrison; but only in case of extreme necessity were explosives to be used.
Only five hundred feet more. Perfect silence reigned below, while the only sound that came from No. 5 section was the laboured breathing of the twelve men as they strove with their pent-up feelings.
"Sentry!" whispered Callaghan pointing to a motionless figure on the wall nearest to the city.
Dacres nodded. He would not trust himself to speak.
Four hundred feet.
Suddenly a light flashed from one of the towers, and a number of men, one of them carrying a lantern, emerged and marched along the broad flat roof. "Rounds, by Jove!" gasped Dacres, then springing to the emergency switch controlling the supply of ultra-hydrogen and the ballonettes, he thrust it down.
The hiss of compressed air that followed seemed to the crew loud enough to arouse the whole garrison. Simultaneously the downward movement was checked and the section leapt quickly to a height of a thousand feet.
"Keep her there," ordered Dacres, then, glass in hand, he returned to his post of observation. Thank heavens the visiting rounds had neither heard nor seen the danger that threatened them. The crew could catch the sibilant challenge of the sentry as the soldiers approached his post. Having satisfied themselves that all was well, the rounds passed on to the next sentry, and so on till they had completed a tour of the walls. Then, descending to the courtyard by a flight of steps, the party crossed thepatioand disappeared within the guard-room.
"We'll wait another half-hour," said Dacres. "Perhaps by that time the sentries will not be on the alert."
"Very good, sir," replied Callaghan. "I've tumbled across South American soldiers before now, and, between you and me, sir, they ain't up to much."
"Cap'n coming alongside, sir," reported one of the crew as coolly as if announcing the approach of the captain's gig towards a man-of-war.
Silently the major part of the "Meteor" glided within fifty feet of No. 5 section.
"What are you waiting for?" demanded Whittinghame.
"We saw the rounds were out, sir," replied Dacres.
"Oh, all right. I thought perhaps that something had gone wrong with the exhaust pumps."
"Oh, no; they are working most splendidly," announced Dacres. "We've decided to wait till the sentries quiet down after being visited by the rounds."
"Do you think you could do better by descending about a mile from the prison and scaling the walls?" asked the Captain.
"The difficulty would be to get the rescued prisoners to the airship, sir; I think we had better stick to our original plans."
"Very good," was Whittinghame's only comment.
Slowly the minutes sped, till Dacres, shutting the case of his watch with an emphatic snap, gave the order to descend.
Far below the glimmer of a match told its own tale. One of the sentries was lighting a cigarette.
"Look out," whispered Callaghan. "Blest if the four of 'em aren't altogether. That's a bit of all right."
The quarter-master spoke truly. Three of the Valderian soldiers had deserted their posts and had joined the one stationed on the west wall—that nearest to the city.
"Silly asses!" ejaculated Dacres "they are playing into our hands."
The four men were apparently having a friendly argument. More cigarettes were produced and lighted. Then after a short interval the sentries entered one of the towers and shut the door leading on to the roof. A gleam on the stonework told the aerial watchers that the unsuspecting soldiers had lit a lantern.
Two hundred—one hundred and fifty feet.
No. 5 section was now barely twenty feet above the walls and immediately over the courtyard. Her fabric, dimly illuminated by the distant searchlights, could not have escaped the notice of the sentries had they been at their posts.
Dacres now felt tolerably certain of success. Even had the sentries emerged from their unauthorized place of shelter the sudden transition from artificial light to the darkness of the night would have prevented them from seeing anything for at least half a minute.
With a slight tremor the detached portion of the "Meteor" alighted fairly equidistant from the encircling wall. Quickly Dacres and eight men descended and anchored the craft by means of ropes secured to the railings surrounding thepatio.
Silently the adventurers followed their leader up the outside flight of stone steps on to the roof. Twenty yards farther on was the tower in which the faithless sentries were skulking.
Dacres looked through the narrow space formed by the door being ajar. The four Valderians were standing around an upturned barrel on which stood a candle. The men were deep in a game of faro, peering through the smoky atmosphere with eyes intent only upon the cards which were being thrown upon the impromptu table.
Signing to his men to approach, Dacres held up his revolver.
"Now," he exclaimed.
Pushing open the door he entered, following by his men.
For a moment the Valderians could not credit their senses. They stared stupidly down the muzzles of half a dozen revolvers. The cards dropped from their nerveless fingers, their winnings clattered on the floor. At the same time the candle toppled over and went out, leaving the room illuminated only by a lantern set in one corner.
Then one of the soldiers raised both hands above his head. His companions followed his example with surprising celerity. Without uttering a sound they tamely surrendered.
"Secure them," ordered Dacres.
In a trice the four trustworthy sentries were gagged and bound hand and foot. The knots were tied as only seamen know how: there was little fear of the prisoners being able to slip their bonds; while to prevent them from moving to each other's assistance each Valderian's rifle was lashed to his legs by cords above the knees and round the ankles. The captives were as helpless as logs of wood, and incapable of uttering a sound.
"Now for the guard-room," whispered Dacres.
This building, situated in one corner of the courtyard, could be gained either by descending the steps leading to the roof of the buildings abutting on the outer wall, or else by a covered way communicating with the quarters occupied by the rest of the troops.
The first was the only practicable way for the British airship's men to tackle the guard; but the great danger now was that should any of the soldiers on duty escape into the living-rooms by means of the covered gallery all chances of a complete surprise would be lost.
The guard-room was roughly furnished. There was a long table on which stood several empty wine glasses. Round the walls were wooden forms on which two men were sitting. Half a dozen more, including the serjeant, were lying on the floor, wrapped in blankets. In a rack close to the door were the rifles of the soldiers on duty.
Without hesitation Dacres and his men rushed as quietly as they could into the guard-room and planted themselves between the arms-rack and the surprised Valderians.
One of the latter, more daring than his comrades, made a dash for the farther door communicating with the men's quarters. Before he could open it Callaghan struck him on the temple with his clenched fist. The fellow dropped like a felled ox, the Irishman catching him ere his body flopped noisily upon the floor.
This slight commotion was sufficient to arouse the sleeping soldiers.
"Surrender or we shoot!" ordered Callaghan in the execrable Spanish he had picked up during a three years' commission in Gibraltar dockyard.
Without hesitation the men threw up their arms.
"Now what's to be done with this lot, sir?" asked the Irishman. "We can't waste time lashing 'em up."
Dacres saw that the windows were small and heavily barred, and that the locks on the door were strong.
"Remove the bolts of those rifles," he ordered. "Now, Callaghan, tell these men that if they attempt to escape or utter a sound we'll make it hot for them."
This the Irishman did, uttering threats that he had learned from the Scorps of the Rock which, judging by the speaker's ferocious gestures, struck terror into the hearts of the cowardly Valderians. They vowed compliance with such vehemence that they had to be told to keep silence lest the noise should alarm the rest of the garrison of the prison. Locking both doors and taking possession of the keys, Dacres led his men towards the barrack-quarters where the remainder of the rank and file—thirty all told—were asleep.
Now it was that Dacres' knowledge of the plan of the buildings was put to good account. He knew that underneath was a large storeroom, to which the only means of access was by a trap-door in the corridor outside the barrack-room. Once the soldiers could be forced into this semi-dungeon they would be incapable of doing any mischief.
The room was in darkness. A delay ensued till one of the "Meteor's" men took down a lantern that was hanging in the covered way.
"Two at a time," whispered Dacres, pointing to the triple line of sleeping men who were stretched in various attitudes on straw palliasses on the floor.
The first two sleepers were rudely awakened to find their arms and legs pinioned and a horny hand over their mouths. Incapable of resistance they were carried to the top of the ladder leading to the cellar, then fiercely threatened by the huge Irishman they were compelled to descend into utter darkness.
Twenty Valderians were served this way, when one fellow managed to give vent to a terrific yell, at the same time gripping with his powerful teeth the hand that strove to stifle his cry of alarm.
Instantly the remaining soldiers were awake, but being unarmed, they saw the uselessness of resistance. Without further trouble they were made to join their comrades in the underground cellar.
Without loss of life on either side, the Cavarale was in possession of the crew of the "Meteor."