The Flying Machine Boys in the Wilds. Frank Walton
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exclaimed. “Get a move on!”
“While walking leisurely from the Isthmus of Panama to Cape Horn,” Sam began, “I saw your two flying machines drop down into this valley. At that time,” he continued, “I was in need of sustenance. I am happy to state, however,” he added with a significant look in the direction of half a dozen empty tin cans, “that at the present moment I feel no such need. For the present I am well supplied.”
“Holy Mackerel!” exclaimed Carl. “But you’ve got your nerve.”
“My nerve is my fortune!” replied Sam whimsically. “But, to continue my narrative,” he went on. “It seemed to me a dispensation of providence in my favor when you boys landed in the valley. In my mind’s eye, I saw plenty to eat and unexceptionable companionship. You were so thoroughly interested in landing that I thought it advisable to wait for a more receptive mood in which to present my petition for—for—well, not to put too fine a point upon it, as Micawber would say—for grub.”
“Say!” laughed Carl. “It’s a sure thing you’ve panhandled in every state in the union.”
Sam smiled grimly but continued without comment.
“So I hid myself back there in the tall grass and waited for you to get supper. Don’t you see,” he went on, “that when a boy’s hungry he doesn’t radiate that sympathy for the unfortunate which naturally comes with a full stomach. Therefore, I waited for you boys to eat your supper before I asked for mine.”
“You’re all right, anyhow!” shouted Jimmie.
“But it seems that your meal was long-delayed,” Sam went on, with a little shrug of disgust. “I lay there in the long grass and waited, hoping against hope. Then you two went after fish. Then in a short time I heard cries of terror and supplication. Then your two friends rushed out to your assistance. Then, being entirely under the influence of hunger and not responsible for my acts, I crawled into one of the tents and began helping myself to the provisions.”
“And you were there when the savages flocked down upon us?” asked Carl. “You saw what took place after that?”
“I was there and I saw,” was the reply. “When you boys came running back to the machines I stood ready to defend you with my life and two automatic revolvers which I had found while searching through the provisions. When you sprang into the machines and slipped away, leaving the savages still hungry, I felt that my last hour had come. However, I clung to the guns and a can of a superior brand of beans put up at Battle Creek, Michigan.”
“How did you come out with the Indians?” asked Carl. “Did you tell them the story of your life?”
“Hardly!” was the laughing reply. “I appeared at the door of the tent in a chastened mood, it is true, ready for peace or war, but when I saw the savages lying upon their hands and elbows, faces bowed to the tall grass, I reached the conclusion that I had them—well Buffaloed!”
“The machines did it?” asked Jimmie.
“The machines did it!” replied Sam. “The Indians bowed their heads for a long time, and then gazed in awe at the disappearing aeroplanes. As I said a moment ago, they were Buffaloed. When they saw me standing at the door of the tent, they looked about for another machine. So did I for a matter of fact, for I thought I needed one just about then!”
“Can you run a machine?” asked Carl.
“Sure I can run a machine!” was the reply. “I can run anything from a railroad train to a race with a township constable. Well, when the machines disappeared, the savages vanished. Not a thing about the camp was touched. I appointed myself custodian, and decided to remain here until you came back after your tents.”
“Then where are you going?” asked Carl.
“With your permission, I will place three days’ provisions under my belt and be on my way.”
“Not three days’ supplies all at once?” questioned Jimmie.
“All at once!” replied Sam.
The two boys consulted together for a moment, and then Jimmie said:
“If you’ll help us pack the tents and provisions on the machine, we’ll take you back to Quito with us. That is, if the Louise will carry so much weight. I think she will, but ain’t sure.”
“It surely will be a treat to ride in the air again!” declared the tramp. “It has been a long time since Louis Havens kicked me out of his hangar on Long Island for getting intoxicated and filling one of the tanks with beer instead of gasoline.”
The boys smiled at each other significantly, for they well remembered Mr. Havens’ story of the tramp’s rather humorous experience at the Long Island establishment. However, they said nothing to Sam of this.
“And, in the meantime,” the tramp said, pointing upward, “we may as well wait here until we ascertain what that other machine is doing in the air at this time of night!”
CHAPTER VI.
AUTOMOBILE VS. AEROPLANE
Shortly after midnight Ben was awakened by a noise which seemed to come from the door of his room. Half asleep as he was, it came to his consciousness like the sparkling of a motor. There was the same sharp tick, tick, tick, with regular pauses between.
As he sat up in bed and listened, however, the sounds resolved themselves into the rattle of one metal against another. In a minute he knew that some one unfamiliar with the lock of his door was moving the stem of a key against the metal plate which surrounded the key-hole.
Then he heard the bolt shoot back and the door opened. There was an electric switch on the wall within reach of his hand, and in a second the room was flooded with light. The person who stood in the center of the floor, halfway between the doorway and the bed, was an entire stranger to the boy. He was dressed in clothing which would not have been rejected by the head waiter of one of the lobster palaces on Broadway, and his manner was pleasing and friendly.
He smiled and dropped into a chair, holding out both hands when he saw Ben’s eyes traveling from himself to an automatic revolver which lay on a stand at the head of the bed.
“Of course,” he said, then, as Ben sat down on the edge of the bed, “you want to know what I’m doing here.”
“Naturally!” replied the boy.
The man, who appeared to be somewhere near the age of twenty-five, drew a yellow envelope from his pocket and tossed it over to Ben.
“I am manager at the Quito telegraph office!” he said. “And I received this despatch for you just before twelve o’clock. In addition to this I received a personal message from Mr. Havens. Read your message and then I will show you mine!”
Ben opened the envelope and read:
“Be sure and wait for me at the point where this message is delivered. Complications which can only be explained in person!”
The manager then passed his own despatch over to the boy. It read as follows:
“Mr. Charles Mellen, Manager: Spare no expense in the delivery of the message to Ben Whitcomb. If necessary, wire all stations on your circuit for information regarding aeroplanes. If Whitcomb is at Quito, kindly deliver this message in person, and warn him to be on the watch for trouble. I hope to reach your town within twenty-four hours.”
“Now for an explanation regarding my surreptitious entrance into your sleeping room,” Mellen went on. “My room is next to yours, and in order not to awaken other sleepers, and at the same time make certain that you understood the situation thoroughly, I tried my hand at burglary.”
“I am glad you did!” replied Ben. “For if there is anything serious in the air it is quite important that no stir be created in the hotel at this hour of the night.”
“That was just my idea!” Mellen answered. “I knew that if I asked the clerk to send a page to your room every person in the hotel would know all about the midnight visit in the morning. So far as I know, understand,