The Flying Machine Boys in the Wilds. Frank Walton
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sight-seers followed the machine into the enclosure.
“Of course,” replied Bixby, “and they’ll try to make you pay ten times what the damage really amounts to. But you leave all that to me. I can handle these fellows better than you can!”
“We shall be glad to have you do so!” Glenn replied.
In a moment the automobile ran up to the planes and stopped. Of the four men it contained, three alighted and approached Bixby.
“These are the guards,” the latter said turning to the boys.
The men, who seemed both willing and efficient, drew a long rope and several steel stakes from the automobile and began enclosing the machines with the same. As the rope was strung out, the constantly increasing crowd was pushed back beyond the circle.
“Won’t they make trouble for the guards during the night?” asked Ben.
“I think not,” was the reply. “I have already arranged for a number of native policemen to assist these men.”
“Gee!” exclaimed Carl, “I guess Mr. Havens picked out the right man!”
“How did he know we were going to stop at Quito?” asked Ben.
“He didn’t know!” replied Bixby. “But he surmised that you’d be obliged to land here in order to fill your fuel tanks.”
“Well, we didn’t come here for that purpose,” laughed Glenn. “We came here because the savages chased us out of a cute little valley about twenty miles away!”
“It’s a wonder you got away at all if they saw you!” said Bixby.
“I guess they didn’t seem to understand about our motors getting into the air!” laughed Jimmie. “The minute the wheel left the ground their war-cries ceased.”
“It’s a wonder you were permitted to get to the machines at all if they caught you away from them!” said Bixby.
“Aw, we always have the luck of the Irish,” Jimmie replied. “The shooting and the display of electric searchlights kept them away until we got into the seats and our way of ascending into the sky did the rest.”
“You are very lucky boys!” insisted Bixby.
“It’s nice to hear you say so!” Ben answered, “because we’re going to follow this line of mountains down to Cape Horn, and visit every ruined temple on the route that has a ghost on its visiting list.”
“If you’ll listen to the stories you hear in the cities,” laughed Bixby, “you’ll visit a good many ruined temples.”
“Glenn was telling us about a temple down on Lake Titicaca,” Ben replied. “He says that figures in flowing white robes appear in the night-time, and are seen by the light that emanates from their own figures! He says, too, that there are illuminations of red, and green, and yellow, which come from no determinable source, and that there are noises which come out of the clear air unaccounted for!”
“There is such a temple, isn’t there, Mr. Bixby?” asked Glenn.
“There is a temple about which such stories are told,” laughed Bixby. “Are you boys thinking of going there?”
“Sure thing, we’re going there!” asserted Jimmie.
During this conversation the three men who had been employed by Bixby to guard the flying machine during the night had been standing by in listening attitudes. When the haunted temple and the proposed visit of the boys to it was mentioned, one of them whose name had been given as Doran, touched Jimmie lightly on the shoulder.
“Are you really going to that haunted temple?” he asked.
Jimmie nodded, and in a short time the four boys and Bixby left for the city in the automobile. As they entered the machine Jimmie thought that he caught a hostile expression on Doran’s face, but the impression was so faint that he said nothing of the matter to his chums.
In an hour’s time Bixby and the four boys were seated at dinner in the dining-room of a hotel which might have been on Broadway, so perfect were its appointments.
“Now let me give you a little advice,” Bixby said, after the incidents of the journey had been discussed. “Never talk about prospective visits to ruined temples in South America. There is a general belief that every person who visits a ruin is in quest of gold, and many a man who set out to gratify his own curiosity has never been heard of again!”
CHAPTER IV.
PLANNING A MIDNIGHT RIDE
“If the people of the country believe there is gold in the temples said to be haunted,” Glenn asked, “why don’t they hunt for it themselves, without waiting for others to come down and give them a tip?”
“Generally speaking,” replied Bixby, “every ruin in Peru has been searched time and again by natives. Millions of treasure has been found, but there is still the notion, which seems to have been born into every native of South America, that untold stores of gold, silver and precious stones are still concealed in the ruined temples.”
“What I can’t understand is this,” Glenn declared. “Why should these natives, having every facility for investigation, follow the lead of strangers who come here mostly for pleasure?”
“I can’t understand that part of it myself,” Bixby replied, “except on the theory that the natives ascribe supernatural powers to foreigners. Even the most intelligent natives who do not believe in the magic of Europeans, watch them closely when they visit ruins, doubtless on the theory that in some way the visitors have become posted as to the location of treasure.”
“Well,” Ben observed, “they can’t make much trouble for us, because we can light down on a temple, run through it before the natives can get within speaking distance, and fly away again.”
“All the same,” Bixby insisted, “I wouldn’t talk very much about visiting ruins of any kind. And here’s another thing,” he went on, “there are stories afloat in Peru that fugitives from justice sometimes hide in these ruins. And so, you see,” he added with a laugh, “you are likely to place yourself in bad company in the minds of the natives by being too inquisitive about the methods of the ancient Incas.”
“All right,” Glenn finally promised, “we’ll be careful about mentioning ruins in the future.”
After dinner the boys went to Bixby’s place of business and ordered gasoline enough to fill the tanks. They also ordered an extra supply of gasoline, which was to be stored in an auxiliary container of rubber made for that purpose.
“Now about tents and provisions?” asked Bixby.
“Confound those savages!” exclaimed Jimmie. “We carried those oiled-silk shelter-tents safely through two long journeys in the mountains of California and Mexico, and now we have to turn them over to a lot of savages in Ecuador! I believe we could have frightened the brutes away by doing a little shooting! Anyway, I wish we’d tried it!”
“Not for mine!” exclaimed Carl. “I don’t want to go through the country killing people, even if they are South American savages.”
“I may be able to get you a supply of oiled-silk in Quito,” Bixby suggested, “but I am not certain. It is very expensive, you understand, of course, and rather scarce.”
“The expense is all right,” replied Glenn, “but we felt a sort of sentimental attachment for those old shelter-tents. We can get all the provisions we need here, of course?” he added.
“Certainly,” was the reply.
“Look here!” Jimmie cut in. “What time will there be a moon to-night?”
“Probably about one o’clock,” was the reply. “By that time, however, you ought all to be sound asleep in your beds.”
“What’s the idea, Jimmie?” asked Carl.
The boys all saw by the quickening expressions in the two boys’ faces that they had arrived at an understanding