The Flying Machine Boys in the Wilds
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The incline extended only a few yards. Arrived at the bottom, the boys estimated that the top of the six-foot passage was not more than a couple of yards from the surface of the earth. Much to their surprise they found the air in the place remarkably pure.
At the bottom of the incline the passage turned away to the north for a few paces, then struck out west. From this angle the boys could see little fingers of light which probably penetrated into the passage from crevices in the steps of the temple.
Gaining the front of the old structure, they saw that one of the stones just below the steps was hung on a rude though perfectly reliable hinge, and that a steel rod attached to it operated a mechanism which placed the slab entirely under the control of any one mounting the steps, if acquainted with the secret of the door.
“Here’s where Miguel drops down!” laughed Jimmie, his searchlight prying into the details of the cunning device. “Well, well!” he went on, “those old Incas certainly took good care of their precious carcasses. It’s a pity they couldn’t have coaxed the Spaniards into some of their secret passages and then sealed them up!”
The passage ran on to the west after passing the temple for some distance, and then turned abruptly to the north. The lights showed a long, tunnel-like place, apparently cut in the solid rock.
“I wonder if this tunnel leads to the woods we saw at the west of the cove,” Carl asked. “I hope it does!” he added, “for then we can get to the machine and get something to eat and get some ammunition and,” he added hopefully, “we may be able to get away in the jolly old Ann and leave the Indians watching an empty temple.”
“Do you suppose Miguel came into this passage when he dropped out of sight in front of the temple?” asked Jimmie.
“Of course, he did!”
“Then where did he go?”
“Why, back into the temple.”
“Through the den of lions? I guess not!”
“That’s a fact!” exclaimed Carl. “He wouldn’t go through the den of lions, would he? And he never could have traveled this passage to the end and hiked back over the country in time to drop the gate and lift the bars in front of the den! It was Miguel that did that, wasn’t it?” the boy added, turning enquiringly to his chum. “It must have been for there was no one else there.”
“What are you getting at?” asked Jimmie.
“This,” replied Carl. “There must be a passage leading from this one back into the temple on the west side. It may enter the room where the bunks are, or it may come into the corridor back by the fountain, but there’s one somewhere all right.”
“You’re the wise little boy!” laughed Jimmie. “Let’s go and see.”
The boys returned to the trap-like slab in front of the temple and from that point examined every inch of the south wall for a long distance. Finally a push on a stone brought forth a grinding noise, and then a passage similar to that discovered in the den was revealed.
“There you are!” said Carl. “There’s the passage that leads to the west side of the temple. Shall we go on in and give Sam and Pedro the merry ha, ha? Mighty funny,” he added, without waiting for his question to be answered, “that all these trap doors are so easily found and work so readily. They’re just about as easy to manipulate as one of the foolish houses we see on the stage. It’s no trick to operate them at all.”
“Well,” Jimmie argued, “these passages and traps are doubtless used every day by a man who don’t take any precautions about keeping them hidden. I presume Miguel is the only person here who knows of their existence, and he just slams around in them sort of careless-like.”
“That’s the answer!” replied Carl. “Let’s chase along and see where the tunnel ends, and then get back to Sam. He may be crying his eyes out for our polite society right now!”
The boys followed the tunnel for what seemed to them to be a long distance. At length they came to a turn from which a mist of daylight could be seen. In five minutes more they stood looking out into the forest.
The entrance to the passage was concealed only by carelessly heaped-up rocks, between the interstices of which grew creeping vines and brambles. Looking from the forest side, the place resembled a heap of rocks, probably inhabited by all manner of creeping things and covered over with vines.
As the boys peered out between the vines, Jimmie nudged his chum in the side and whispered as he pointed straight out:
“There’s the Ann.”
“But that isn’t where we left her!” argued Carl.
“Well, it’s the Ann, just the same, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” was the reply. “I presume,” the boy went on, “the Indians moved it to the place where it now is.”
“Don’t you ever think they did!” answered Jimmie. “The Indians wouldn’t touch it with a pair of tongs! Felix and Pedro probably moved it, the idea being to hide it from view.”
“I guess that’s right!” Carl agreed. “I’m going out,” he continued, in a moment, “and see if I can find any savages. You lie low till I get back. I won’t be gone very long.”
“What you mean,” Jimmie grinned, “is that you’re going out to see if you won’t find any savages. That is,” he went on, “you think of going out. As a matter of fact, I’m the one that’s going out, because the wild beasts chewed you up proper, and they didn’t hurt me at all.”
The boy crowded past Carl as he spoke and dodged out into the forest. Carl waited impatiently for ten minutes and was on the point of going in quest of the boy when Jimmie came leisurely up to the curtain of vines which hid the passage and looked in with a grin on his freckled face.
“Come on out,” he said, “the air is fine!”
“Any savages?” asked Carl.
“Not a savage!”
“Anything to eat?” demanded the boy.
“Bales of it!” answered Jimmie. “The savages never touched the Ann.”
Carl crept out of the opening and made his way to where Jimmie sat flat on the bole of a fallen tree eating ham sandwiches.
“Are there any left?” he asked.
“Half a bushel!”
“Then perhaps the others stand some chance of getting one or two.”
“There’s more than we can all eat before to-morrow morning,” Jimmie answered. “And if the relief train doesn’t come before that time we’ll mount the Ann and glide away.”
While the boys sat eating their sandwiches and enjoying the clear sweet air of the morning, there came an especially savage chorus of yells from the direction of the temple.
“The Indians seem to be a mighty enthusiastic race!” declared Jimmie. “Suppose we go to the Ann, grab the provisions, and go back to the temple just to see what they’re amusing themselves with now!”
This suggestion meeting with favor, the boys proceeded to the aeroplane which was only a short distance away and loaded themselves down with provisions and cartridges. During their journey they saw not the slightest indications of the Indians. It was quite evident that they were all occupied with the siege of the temple.
On leaving the entrance, the boys restored the vines so far as possible to their original condition and filled their automatics with cartridges.
“No one will ever catch me without cartridges again,” Carl declared as he patted his weapon. “The idea of getting into a den of lions with only four shots between us and destruction!”
“Well, hurry up!” cried Jimmie. “I know from the accent the Indians placed on the last syllable that there’s something doing at the temple. And Sam, you know, hasn’t got many cartridges.”
“I wouldn’t run very fast,” declared Carl, “if I knew that the Indians had captured Miguel. That’s the ruffian who shut us into the den of lions!”
When the boys came to the passage opening from the tunnel on the west of the temple, they turned into it and proceeded a few yards south. Here they found an opening which led undoubtedly directly to the rear of the corridor in the vicinity of the fountain.
The stone which had in past years concealed the mouth of this passage had evidently not been used for a long time, for it lay broken into fragments on the stone floor.
When the boys came to the end of the passage, they saw by the slices of light which lay between the stones that they were facing the corridor from the rear. They knew well enough that somewhere in that vicinity was a door opening into the temple, but for some moments they could not find it. At last Jimmie, prying into a crack with his knife, struck a piece of metal and the stone dropped backward.
He was about to crawl through into the corridor when Carl caught him by one leg and held him back. It took the lad only an instant to comprehend what was going on. A horde of savages was crowding up the steps and into the temple itself, and Sam stood in the middle of the corridor with a smoking weapon in his hand.
As the boys looked he threw the automatic into the faces of the onrushing crowd as if its usefulness had departed.
CHAPTER XX.
THE SAVAGES MAKE MORE TROUBLE
“Pedro said the savages wouldn’t dare enter the temple!” declared Jimmie as he drew back.
Without stopping to comment on the situation, Carl called out:
“Drop, Sam, drop!”
The young man whirled about, saw the opening in the rear wall, saw the brown barrels of the automatics, and instantly dropped to the floor. The Indians advanced no farther, for in less time than it takes to say the words a rain of bullets struck into their ranks. Half a dozen fell to the floor and the others retreated, sneaking back in a minute, however, to remove the bodies of their dead and wounded companions.
The boys did not fire while this duty was being performed.
In a minute from the time of the opening of the stone panel in the wall there was not a savage in sight. Only for the smears of blood on the white marble floor, and on the steps outside, no one would have imagined that so great a tragedy had been enacted there only a few moments before. Sam rose slowly to his feet and stood by the boys as they crawled out of the narrow opening just above the basin of the fountain.
“I’m glad to see you, kids,” he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, although his face was white to the lips. “You came just in time!”
“We usually do arrive on schedule,” Jimmie grinned, trying to make as little as possible of the rescue.
“You did this time at any rate!” replied Sam. “But, look here,” he went on, glancing at the automatics in their hands, “I thought the ammunition was all used up in the den of lions.”
“We got some more!” laughed Carl.
“More—where?”
“At the Ann!”
Sam leaned back against the wall, a picture of amazement.
“You haven’t been out to the Ann have you?” he asked.
For reply Jimmie drew a great package of sandwiches and another of cartridges out of the opening in the wall.
“We haven’t, eh?” he laughed.
“That certainly looks like it!” declared Sam.
The boys briefly related the story of their visit to the aeroplane while Sam busied himself with the sandwiches, and then they loaded the three automatics and distributed the remaining clips about their persons.
“And now what?” asked Carl, after the completion of the recital.
“Are we going to take the Ann and slip away from these worshipers of the Sun?” asked Jimmie. “We can do it all right!”
“I don’t know about that,” argued Sam. “You drove them away from the temple, and the chances are that they will return to the forest and will remain there until they get the courage to make another attack on us.”
“It won’t take long to go and find out whether they are in the forest or not!” Carl declared.
“Perhaps,” Sam suggested, “we’d better wait here for the others to come up. They ought to be here to-night.”
“If it’s a sure thing that we can let them know where we are,” Carl agreed, “that might be all right.”
“What’s the matter with the red and blue lights?” asked Jimmie.
“By the way,” Carl inquired looking about the place, “where is Pedro?”
“He took to his heels when the savages made the rush.”
“Which way did he go?” asked Jimmie.
“I think he went in the direction of that little menagerie you boys found last night!” replied Sam.
“Then I’ll bet he knows where the tunnel is!” Carl shouted, dashing away. “I’ll bet he’s lit out for the purpose of bringing a lot of his conspirators in here to do us up!”
Jimmie followed his chum, and the two searched the entire system of tunnels known to them without discovering any trace of the missing man.
“That’s a nice thing!” Jimmie declared. “We probably passed him somewhere on our way back to the temple. By this time he’s off over the hills, making signals for some one to come and help put us to the bad.”
“I’m afraid you’re right!” replied Sam.
The boys ate their sandwiches and discussed plans and prospects, listening in the meantime for indications of the two missing men. Several times they thought they heard soft footsteps in the apartments opening from the corridor, but in each case investigation revealed nothing.
It was a long afternoon, but finally the sun disappeared over the ridge to the west of the little lake and the boys began considering the advisability of making ready to signal to the Louise and Bertha.
“They will surely be here?” said Carl hopefully.
“I am certain of it!” answered Sam.
“Then we’d better be getting something on top of the temple to make a light,” advised Jimmie. “If I had Miguel by the neck, he’d bring out his red and blue lights before he took another breath!” he added.
“Perhaps we can find the lights,” suggested Sam.
This idea being very much to the point, the boys scattered themselves over the three apartments and searched diligently for the lamps or candles which had been used by Miguel on the previous night.
“Nothing doing!” Jimmie declared, returning to the corridor.
“Nothing doing!” echoed Carl, coming in from the other way.
Sam joined the group in a moment looking very much discouraged.
“Boys,” he said, “I’ve been broke in nearly all the large cities on both Western continents. I’ve been kicked out of lodging houses, and I’ve walked hundreds of miles with broken shoes and little to eat, but of all the everlasting, consarned, ridiculous, propositions I ever butted up against, this is the worst!”
The boys chuckled softly but made no reply.
“We know well enough,” he went on, “that there are rockets, or lamps, or torches, or candles, enough hidden about this place to signal all the transcontinental trains in the world but we can’t find enough of them to flag a hand-car on an uphill grade!”
“What’s the matter with the searchlights?” asked Jimmie.
“Not sufficiently strong!”
Without any explanation, Jimmie darted away from the group and began a tour of the temple. First he walked along the walls of the corridor then darted to the other room, then out on the steps in front.
“His trouble has turned his head!” jeered Carl.
“Look here, you fellows!” Jimmie answered darting back into the temple. “There’s a great white rock on the cliff back of the temple. It looks like one of these memorial stones aldermen put their names on when they build a city hall. All we have to do to signal the aeroplanes is to put red caps over our searchlights and turn them on that cliff. They will make a circle of fire there that will look like the round, red face of a harvest moon.”
“That’s right!” agreed Carl.
“A very good idea!” Sam added.
“I’ve been trying to find a way to get up on the roof,” Jimmie continued, “but can’t find one. You see,” he went on, “we can operate our searchlights better from the top of the temple.”
“We’ll have to find a way to get up there!” Sam insisted.
“Unless we can make the illumination on the cliff through the hole in the roof,” Jimmie proposed.
“And that’s another good proposition!” Sam agreed.
“And so,” laughed Carl, “the stage is set and the actors are in the wings, and I’m going to crawl into one of the bunks in the west room and go to sleep.”
“You go, too, Jimmie,” Sam advised. “I’ll wake you up if anything happens. I can get my rest later on.”
The boys were not slow in accepting the invitation, and in a very short time were sound asleep. It would be time for the Bertha and Louise to show directly, and so Sam placed the red caps over the lamps of two of the electrics and sat where he could throw the rays through the break in the roof. Curious to know if the result was exactly as he anticipated, he finally propped one of the lights in position on the floor and went out to the entrance to look up at the rock.
As he stepped out on the smooth slab of marble in front of the entrance something whizzed within an inch of his head and dropped with a crash on the stones below. Without stopping to investigate the young man dodged into the temple again and looked out.
“Now, I wonder,” he thought, as he lifted the electric so that its red light struck the smooth face of the rock above more directly, “whether that kind remembrance was from our esteemed friends Pedro and Miguel, or whether it came from the Indians.”
He listened intently for a moment and presently heard the sound of shuffling feet from above. It was apparent that the remainder of the evening was not to be as peaceful and quiet as he had anticipated.
Realizing that the hostile person or persons on the roof might in a moment begin dropping their rocks down to the floor of the corridor, he passed hastily into the west chamber and stood by the doorway looking out.
This interference, he understood, would effectually prevent any illumination of the white rock calculated to serve as a signal to Mr. Havens and the boys. Some other means of attracting their attention must be devised. The corridor lay dim in the faint light of the stars which came through the break in the roof, and he threw the light of his electric up and down the stone floor in order to make sure that the enemy was not actually creeping into the temple from the entrance.
While he stood flashing the light about he almost uttered an exclamation of fright as a grating sound in the vicinity of the fountain came to his ears. He cast his light in that direction and saw the stone which had been replaced by the boys retreating slowly into the wall.
Then a dusky face looked out of the opening, and, without considering the ultimate consequences of his act, he fired full at the threatening eyes which were searching the interior. There was a groan, a fall, and the stone moved back to its former position.
He turned to awaken Jimmie and Carl but the sound of the shot had already accomplished that, and the boys were standing in the middle of the floor with automatics in their hands.
“What’s coming off?” asked Jimmie.
“Was that thunder?” demanded Carl.
“Thunder don’t smell like that,” suggested Jimmie, sniffing at the powder smoke. “I guess Sam has been having company.”
“Right you are,” said Sam, doing his best to keep the note of apprehension out of his voice. “Our friends are now occupying the tunnel you told me about. At least one of them was, not long ago.”
“Now, see here,” Jimmie broke in, “I’m getting tired of this hide-and-seek business around this blooming old ruin. We came out to sail in the air, and not crawl like snakes through underground passages.”
“What’s the answer?” asked Carl.
“According to Sam’s story,” Jimmie went on, “we won’t be able to signal our friends with our red lights to-night. In that case, they’re likely to fly by, on their way south, without discovering our whereabouts.”
“And so you want to go back to the machine, eh?” Sam questioned.
“That’s the idea,” answered Jimmie. “I want to get up into God’s free air again, where I can see the stars, and the snow caps on the mountains! I want to build a roaring old fire on some shelf of rock and build up a stew big enough for a regiment of state troops! Then I want to roll up in a blanket and sleep for about a week.”
“That’s me, too!” declared Carl.
“It may not be possible to get to the machine,” suggested Sam.
“I’ll let you know in about five minutes!” exclaimed Jimmie darting recklessly across the corridor and into the chamber which had by mutual consent been named the den of lions.
Sam called to him to return but the boy paid no heed to the warning.
“Come on!” Carl urged the next moment. “We’ve got to go with him.”
Sam seized a package of sandwiches which lay on the roughly constructed table and darted with the boy across the corridor, through the east chamber, into the subterranean one, and passed into the tunnel, the entrance to which, it will be remembered, had been left open.
Some distance down in the darkness, probably where the passage swung away to the north, they saw a glimmer of light. Directly they heard Jimmie’s voice calling softly through the odorous darkness.
“Come on!” he whispered. “We may as well get out to the woods and see what’s doing there.”
The two half-walked, half-stumbled, down the slippery incline and joined Jimmie at the bottom.
“Now we want to look out,” the boy said as they came to the angle which faced the west. “There may be some of those rude persons in the tunnel ahead of us.”
Not caring to proceed in the darkness, they kept their lights burning as they advanced. When they came to the cross passage which led to the rear of the corridor they listened for an instant and thought they detected a low murmur of voices in the distance.
“Let’s investigate!” suggested Carl.
“Investigate nothing!” replied Jimmie. “Let’s move for the machine and the level of the stars. If the savages are there, we’ll chase ’em out.”
But the savages were not there. When the three came to the curtain of vines which concealed the entrance to the passage, the forest seemed as still as it had been on the day of creation.
They moved out of the tangle and crept forward to the aeroplane, their lights now out entirely, and their automatics ready for use. They were soon at the side of the machine.
After as good an examination as could possibly be made in the semi-darkness, Sam declared that nothing had been molested, and that the Ann was, apparently, in as good condition for flight as it had been at the moment of landing.
“Why didn’t we do this in the afternoon, while the niggers were out of sight?” asked Carl in disgust.
“Sam said we couldn’t!” grinned Jimmie.
“Anyhow,” Sam declared, “we’re going to see right now whether we can or not. We’ll have to push the old bird out into a clear place first, though!”
Here the talk was interrupted by a chorus of savage shouts.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE MYSTERY OF THE ANDES
The Louise and the Bertha left the field near Quito amid the shouts of a vast crowd which gathered in the early part of the day. As the aeroplanes sailed majestically into the air, Mr. Havens saw Mellen sitting in a motor-car waving a white handkerchief in farewell.
The millionaire and Ben rode in the Louise, while Glenn followed in the Bertha. For a few moments the clatter of the motors precluded conversation, then the aviator slowed down a trifle and asked his companion:
“Was anything seen of Doran to-day?”
Ben shook his head.
“I half believe,” Mr. Havens continued, “that the code despatches were stolen by him last night from the hotel, copied, and the copies sent out to the field to be delivered to some one of the conspirators.”
“But no one could translate them,” suggested Ben.
“I’m not so sure of that,” was the reply. “The code is by no means a new one. I have often reproached myself for not changing it after Redfern disappeared with the money.”
“If it’s the same code you used then,” Ben argued, “you may be sure there is some one of the conspirators who can do the translating. Why,” he went on, “there must be. They wouldn’t have stolen code despatches unless they knew how to read them.”
“In that case,” smiled Mr. Havens grimly, “they have actually secured the information they desire from the men they are fighting.”
“Were the messages important?” asked Ben.
“Duplicates of papers contained in deposit box A,” was the answer.
“What can they learn from them?”
“The route mapped out for our journey south!” was the reply. “Including the names of places where Redfern may be in hiding.”