Joe shook his head. “Those guys’ll go after them in the pickup unless we act fast!” He ran to the truck, followed by Frank and Chet, leaned in, and snatched the keys from the dashboard. “That’ll stop ’em!” He grinned.
“They may have another set of keys,” Frank said. “Better let the air out of this tire.” He tried to unscrew the valve cap, but it refused to budge.
Taking out his penknife, Frank gouged its point into the rubber and began carving a small slit in the tire sidewall until air leaked out with a low hissing sound.
“Look out!” Joe warned. “They’re coming!”
The boys melted into the darkness and hid behind tall shrubs.
“We’ll take the pickup and go after Jenson and Moran,” Stiller ordered. “Don’t stand there! Get in. I’ll drive!”
As his henchmen obeyed, he squeezed behind the wheel and reached for the keys. His fingers hit an empty keyhole on the dashboard.
“My keys are gone!” he exploded. “Who took ’em? Which of you guys has been fooling around this heap? Fork the key over!”
Each one denied knowing anything about the key. Finally Bruno fished his own key from his pocket and gave it to Stiller.
“No use arguing about it, boss,” he said. “They got a head start on us. We’ll have to move if we want to catch up.”
Muttering to himself, Stiller turned on the ignition and the pickup took off with a roar. But by this time the leaking tire had gone completely flat. The rapidly whirling wheel bumped and clattered loudly over the rough ground, throwing the flattened tire casing halfway off the rim.
The truck lurched and jounced crazily from side to side while Stiller fought to bring it under control. One jolt broke the catch on the back gate, which dropped, and one of the men tumbled out. Finally Stiller brought the pickup to a stop.
“We’ve got a flat!” he fumed. “Salty, I thought you were gonna put new tires on so we could take Jenson for his ride!”
“I did, boss,” Salty said defensively. “Look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“Don’t worry. I will,” Stiller retorted. He got out along with the others. The man who had fallen joined them, rubbing his shoulder.
“I’m okay,” he said, “but those guys won’t be when we nab ’em.” He waved his fist.
“If you ask me, the tire was slashed!” fumed Bruno. “I’ll bet Moran did it!”
“That’s right,” Stiller said. “He came out earlier to stretch his legs—or so he said. No doubt he punctured the tire while we weren’t looking. He’s the only one who could have. But he won’t get away with it. We’ll track him down.”
“What I want to know,” Salty interjected, “is ’ow Moran became a member of our group.”
Bruno shrugged. “My fault. I met him at a soccer game in Sydney and he told me he wanted a job in the Outback because the law was after him. I fell for his story.”
“You stupid jughead!” Stiller granted harshly. “We never should have listened to you.”
“What do we do now?” Cutler asked.
“Change the tire. What else?” Stiller hissed. “Get busy, you guys!”
“The jack’s in the station wagon,” Bruno said sheepishly.
“What! You’ve got to be kidding!” Stiller screamed furiously. A shouting match followed until Salty brought it to an end. “Mates, I’ve got it!” he yelled.
“Got what?” Stiller demanded.
“The station wagon’s low on petrol. I forgot to top ‘er up yesterday. They’ll get stuck somewhere between ’ere and Alice Springs!”
Stiller was thoughtful for a moment. “That’s right. And all they can do is hide in the Outback, close to the road. We can get in touch with Bartel in the morning, and—”
“We won’t have any trouble finding them, boss,” Bruno added. “Don’t worry about that.”
“All right. But I don’t want any more slip-ups. Let’s set up guards for the rest of the night. We can’t be sure that these snoopy boys won’t show up sooner or later! Go inside and get some more ammunition. Then position yourselves around the property. We’ll do two shifts.”
The men agreed and everyone went inside. Frank pulled Joe and Chet by their jackets. “Let’s get out of here, quick!”
CHAPTER XV
A Deadly Snake
THE boys raced through the darkness and wriggled through the fence. Then they ran around the rocks to the car. It appeared deserted as they approached.
“Where’s Mr. Ponsley?” Chet puffed. “Do you think he got scared and ran off?”
“We’ll have to stay and look for him,” Joe said. “We can’t just drive away and leave him behind!”
A loud noise interrupted him.
“No need to look for Mr. Ponsley,” Frank observed. “He’s here all right.”
The boys peered through the window. Ponsley was sitting in the back seat with his hands crossed on his vest. His head was bent forward and his chin touched the enormous tie he wore. His mouth was open; and with every breath he snored.
Relieved to find he was still in the car, Frank, Joe, and Chet piled into the compact, then Frank took the wheel as they moved off. He drove carefully, not daring to use his lights until they were around the rocks and well down the road.
“We’re safe now,” Frank said, snapping on the headlights and stepping on the gas.
“As long as our car doesn’t conk out,” Chet stated. “I’ll give three cheers when we get to Alice Springs.”
“First we’ve got to find Jenson and Moran,” Frank reminded him.
They came to a rough part of the road and jounced up and down over rocks and deep pot-holes. Frank shifted into low gear to maneuver past the worst spots. The jolting ride brought Ponsley awake with a start. He raised his head and looked around. “Where are we?” he demanded irritably.
“On the Cutler road,” Frank replied.
Ponsley became peevish. “Well, you are driving this car as if you were riding a bronco at the rodeo.”
“Can’t help it,” Frank said. “The Cutlers never built a paved highway for visitors to drive to their ranch.”
Joe turned around and addressed their companion. “Mr. Ponsley, did you notice anything after we left you in the car?”
Ponsley covered a yawn with his hand. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“The station wagon. Did it keep on going down the road past the rocks?”
“What station wagon?” Ponsley inquired. “I know nothing about a station wagon.”
Frank was incredulous. “You mean a station wagon crashed through a board fence only a few yards from where you were and you didn’t hear anything?”
“I don’t recall a thing between the time you left and just now, when you woke me up.”
Frank increased speed as they reached a better stretch of the road. “Unbelievable!” He chuckled.
“Why are you going so fast?” Ponsley complained.
Joe explained that they had to get safely away from the gang of crooks at the Cutler Ranch.
Ponsley became cross. “I should think we are far enough away to slow down. I don’t like being in an automobile at high speeds.”
Frank turned onto the main road and increased his speed. “We have another reason for making time, Mr. Ponsley,” he declared.
“Oh, what’s that?”
“We’re trying to catch Dr. Jenson and Mike Moran!”
Ponsley’s mouth dropped open as the meaning of the statement sank in. The boys took turns describing events at the Cutler Ranch leading up to the climax, when Jenson and Moran leaped from the window of the house and fled in the station wagon.
“How did you know the man with Jenson was Michael?” he spluttered.
“He was wearing a ring with a red stone,” Joe said. “It reflected in the light from the house.”
Ponsley became excited. “Then it must be Michael! Frank, speed up! Catch the station wagon!”
Frank kept the gas pedal flat on the floor as the car raced forward
. But trouble was in store. Several miles farther on, the car suddenly stalled. Lacking proper tools and light to work by, the boys puttered over the engine a long time before discovering that the distributor cap had sprung loose.
Later, after resuming their journey, they sighted distant figures silhouetted on the skyline. Ponsley insisted that they stop and investigate. The figures turned out to be wild aborigines hunting at night. Returning wearily to the car, they continued southward to Alice Springs.
Dawn began to break. Shafts of sunlight glanced from the desert in shimmering rays. Near the Sandover River, a group of kangaroos bounded away, and a rabbit scooted across the road, seeking safety in scrub vegetation.
Then something caught Joe’s eye up ahead. “The station wagon!” he exclaimed.
Frank hit the brakes and brought the car to a stop behind the vehicle they had been chasing. Rocks and gullies extended on both sides of the road.
“Salty was right,” Frank said. “They must have run out of gas.”
Ponsley got out of the car as fast as he could. “Michael, Michael!” he called out.
There was no reply. Ponsley groaned. “They’re gone!”
“The keys are still here,” Joe pointed out.
Chet squeezed into the front seat, turned on the ignition, and glanced at the dashboard dials. “The gas needle’s down to empty,” he confirmed.
“Then they must be somewhere near here,” Ponsley said hopefully. “But where?”
“Let’s see if we can find their footprints and follow them,” Frank suggested.
The four walked around the station wagon, but the terrain was too rocky for footprints.
“It’s no use,” Joe finally said. “We can’t tell which way they went.”
The boys shaded their eyes with their hands and scanned the horizon. Ponsley sat down on a boulder. Not a sound broke the silence of the desert, and not a movement could be seen among the rocks.
Joe was about to say something when he looked in Ponsley’s direction and stopped short. Their friend was staring down toward his left hand, which was hidden by the boulder on which he sat. He looked deathly pale, his eyes bulged with fear, and a trickle of sweat rolled down his face. He seemed to have stopped breathing.
Joe stepped slowly around to see what was wrong. He noticed an Australian brown snake, about five feet long, coiled behind the boulder! The snake’s neck arched in the air. Flashing wicked fangs only inches from Ponsley’s hand, the serpent swayed menacingly back and forth, hissing ferociously.
Ponsley was mesmerized by the venomous creature. He sat as if turned to stone, too terrified to move.
Cautiously, to avoid startling the snake and causing it to strike at Ponsley’s hand, Joe gave a danger signal to Frank and Chet. Responding, they moved up, and were horrified when they realized that Ponsley was in danger.
Chet picked up a dried branch, evidently blown from a far-off straggle of gum trees, made a wide circle, came up behind the snake, and brushed the sand with the stick. With blinding speed, the snake whirled and sank its fangs into the wood!
Frank and Joe instantly grabbed Ponsley and pulled him away from the boulder. He trembled and gasped for breath. Chet stepped back, dragging the snake, which maintained its grip on the stick.
“Look!” Joe cried suddenly.
Between the serpent’s coils gleamed a piece of metal. When the snake released the stick and slithered off among the rocks, Joe retrieved the object, a key chain with the initial M on it.
“That’s probably Michael’s!” Ponsley exclaimed. “He must have dropped it here!”
“Most likely on the way up this gully,” Frank observed. “So that’s where we go.”
The gully led to a point where the rocks were taller and more spread out, with defiles leading in several directions. They halted, not knowing which way to take.
Frank cupped his hands around his mouth. “Mike Moran!” he shouted. “Come on out! We’re friends!”
His words echoed among the rocks and then silence fell again.
Joe called, “Dr. Jenson! Dr. Jenson!”
Again silence. A small stone tumbled from one of the tall rocks. Looking up, the boys saw a figure vanish over the top.
“There they are!” Chet cried out.
The four climbed over a pile of rocks and reached the top just in time to see the figure jump down on the other side and run into a defile.
“They think we’re Stiller and company,” Joe said. “They won’t come out.”
“You follow them,” Frank replied. “I’ll cut them off.”
Noting that the defile curved around in a semicircle, he scrambled down the pile of rocks, turned left, and met Moran and Jenson running through toward him!
Jenson was a slight, scholarly-looking man. Moran appeared to be the outdoor type, and he assumed a boxer’s stance as soon as he saw Frank.
“Relax, Mike,” Frank told him. “We’re not in league with the Cutlers. Those crooks are a long way from here.”
Just then the others came up. Ponsley hastened forward and cried, “Michael! Michael!”
Moran stared at him in utter astonishment. “Mr. Ponsley, what are you doing here?”
“And who are these boys?” Jenson put in.
“Friends!” Ponsley said. Then he explained how they happened to be searching for Moran and Jenson.
When Ponsley mentioned that Michael had been accused of tipping off two bank robbers about the Mid-County Bank’s alarm system, Moran shook his head in disbelief. “Dad needn’t have worried about that. The alarm system they’ve got now is totally different from the one in use when I worked there. I know nothing about the present system.”
“Can you prove that?” Joe asked.
“Sure. The old system had a number of flaws. I know because I checked it out. The manager called in a security engineering firm to install a new one. The job hadn’t been finished when I left. The records will back me up on that.”
“So the two men who were arrested must have been trying to frame you to cover up for someone else,” Frank reasoned.
“You bet they were!” said Mike.
Ponsley heaved a sigh of relief now that he knew the senator’s son could be cleared. The conversation reminded Frank of something. “You spoke about a bank employee named Thurbow, who helped to throw suspicion on Mike,” he said to Ponsley. “What’s his job there?”
“Security guard, I believe.”
“Any idea what he looks like?”
“I have,” Mike broke in. “He’s a stocky, redhaired guy with a broken nose. I never did like him.”
Frank turned to his brother. “Remember the man who was in the chemistry shop talking to Mr. Oakes when we ordered that methyl yellow?”
Joe’s eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. “Holy smoke, you’re right! It was a chunky red-head! I remember wondering if he might be a pro boxer with that broken nose. That must have been Thurbow.”
“Check! Mr. Oakes told us he was talking to a security guard when the mistake occurred. I’ll bet Thurbow switched the methyl yellow with his own bottle of liquid gas.”
“Probably because he heard at the bank that Senator Moran planned to call us in on the case.”
The two boys told their listeners about their accident with the tear gas.
Later Ponsley inquired reproachfully, “Michael, why did you leave your home like that?”
“I wanted to see the world without my father’s help. I decided to stop being Senator Moran’s son for a while and try to make it on my own.”
“How did you get involved with the Stiller gang?” Frank asked.
“I met Bruno at a soccer match in Sydney. He said he was from a ranch in the Outback and when I told him I was looking for a job, he hired me. I didn’t know anything about the illegal operations till I got to Cutler Ranch.”
Frank remembered that Bruno said Moran had claimed the police were after him, but decided not to mention it at this point.
“Mike was already t
here when they dragged me out of the hotel in Sydney,” Jenson took up the story. “They drugged me to make it easier, but I heard them mention Alice Springs and wrote the letters AL S on the door. Did you read my message?”
“Sure did,” Frank said. “But tell me, why did you pick that fleabag hotel in the first place?”
“I had a feeling I was being followed. I had reservations at the Australian Arms, but I took a taxi at the airport and told the driver to take me to the opposite part of town. Unfortunately, it didn’t help. They found me anyway.”
“So after that you two met at the Cutler Ranch,” Joe said to Mike.
“Right. That’s where Bruno took me. He told me to guard Dr. Jenson when they brought him in. Bruno handed me a rifle and ordered me to see that Dr. Jenson stayed put in the upstairs room until his fate had been decided. When it seemed that they were going to drop him in the Outback, we escaped through the window. We didn’t see you fellows. It was too dark. I had been in the yard, and I knew the keys were in the station wagon. That’s why we used it for our break-out. We drove till the gas ran out.”
“Then we hid in the rocks,” Jenson continued. “When you came along and stopped behind the station wagon, we thought you were Stiller and his henchmen.”
“That’s why we hid even deeper,” Moran said. “By the way, how did you know which way we had gone?”
“We found this at the head of the gully,” Joe replied. He handed the key chain to Mike Moran.
Moran took it and put it in his pocket. “I must have dropped it after we got out of the car. Good thing you found it!”
“Thank the deadly snake, Mike,” Joe quipped.
“What’s that again?”
Joe described the incident of the hissing serpent.
Moran became solemn. “I’m sorry you were in so much danger, Mr. Ponsley.”
The latter held up his hand. “Think nothing of it, Michael. I have found you, and nothing else concerns me at this point.”
Frank turned to Jenson. “Do you have any idea why the gang kidnapped you?”
“None at all. It’s a mystery to me.”
“Could they be agents of a foreign government?”
“They might,” Jenson confessed. “Professor Young and I received several messages warning us not to test the Firebird Rocket. Certainly a foreign power might be involved. It might be a plot to hold up our space program.”
The Firebird Rocket Page 9
