Air Ship Boys : Or, the Quest of the Aztec Treasure

by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER XXIV

  A GRAVE IN THE DESERT

  But Ned and Alan did not eat with their friends that night, nor forsome days to come. And when they saw each other again one ofElmer's juicy venison steaks would have seemed to all of them thesweetest morsel ever eaten by man.

  Ned only waited to help inflate the balloonet in the big balloonwith the little hand blower for the Cibola showed quite perceptiblythe loss of gas after her twenty hours of inflation. Then, thecourse having been laid, he left the wheel and engine to Alan's careand turned in for his long needed rest.

  Alan had determined on a record flight. He allowed the Cibola torise higher than it had yet flown, about 5,000 feet, and thensetting the aeroplanes on a slight incline he headed the car on adown slant for Mount Wilson's just visible peak, thirty miles away.

  There was no economy in half speed, for time and the utilization oftheir gas were more precious than gasoline. "We can always floatwithout gasoline," the boys had said to themselves, "but we can'tmove without gas." Therefore the Cibola was soon at its maximum andthe enthusiastic Alan knew that Ned would have a short sleep.

  In an hour and twenty-one minutes the swift dirigible was abreast ofthe peak of Mount Wilson, and then, without slackening speed, Alanaltered her course southeast toward the scene of the previousnight's hair-raising experience. Long before he reached the placehe was able to make the juncture of the two rivers his landmark, andthe ship pointed her course as straight as a railroad train. Afterthirty minutes sailing from Mount Wilson, Buck's rendezvous could bemade out, three miles beyond.

  One glance told the whole sad story. Two dead horses alone markedthe spot where their freight wagon had stood. Alan aroused Ned, andas the Cibola sailed low over the place the boys saw that thethieving Utes had gone--with the wagon, horses, freight and theirdead companions.

  Poor Buck's body was lying where the brave escort had fallen.

  "We can't make two landings," suggested Ned. "We'll find thegasoline and then come back and bury our friend."

  Disappointed, although they had really in their hearts expectednothing less, the young navigators turned the Cibola and sailedslowly down the river in the hope that the gasoline would be foundwhere Elmer had described it as lying.

  They were as richly rewarded here as they had been previouslydisappointed. The drift, a tangled jumble of small mountain wood,had caught and preserved seven of their eight tins of gasoline.

  It was now noon, and broiling hot, but luncheon was not thought ofand the difficult work of recovering the heavy packages was begun.This presented a new difficulty, for again the boys were determinednot to lose any gas in making a landing.

  The drift was too light to hold their anchor although two trials atthis were made. Not a bush or tree was to be found nearby. Indespair at last, Alan was about to suggest opening the valve--for itwas imperative that they secure the gasoline--when Ned turned thebow of the craft down stream.

  "Perhaps we can find anchorage further down," he explained.

  "But if will be pretty hard work carrying these tins," Alan began.

  "They floated where they are, didn't they?" smiled Ned. "What's thematter with letting them float a little further?"

  His hope was realized. But the solution was fully a mile away. Ona sandy bar, half buried in the sand, the stout end of a cottonwoodtrunk, the flotsam of some extraordinary freshet, had come intoview. The experience of the morning was repeated, but on a smallerscale, for here were no dangerous tree limbs to threaten theirdelicate silken bag. After two trials and much pulling and haulingthe car of the Cibola was tied fast to the snag, half over theshallow water and half over the sand.

  Then, naked as when they were born, and suffering not a little fromthe pitiless sun, the boys started afresh. Alan made his way backup the river and began to prod out the stranded tin casks. All weresoon bobbing along in the slow current, with Alan behind them like alumber driver of the northwest dislodging logs left in the shallows.Ned below soon had all of them in shallow water.

  By means of a coil of the drag rope, looped in turn about the tinsof recovered fuel, Ned lifting below and Alan pulling above soontransferred the gasoline to the bobbing Cibola. As each caskascended, a portion of the extra ballast was dumped overboard.

  Then, dressing themselves and improvising what tools they could, theboys made their way sorrowfully to the scene of the previous night'stragedy. Buck's body was carefully removed and decently buried. Amound of boulders was made over the grave to designate the spot, andwith the hope that some day they might return and suitably mark thedesert tomb the boys took a mournful farewell.