The Flying Machine Boys in the Wilds
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“And so they’ll be apt to guard all those points?” asked Ben.
As the reader will understand, one point, that at the ruined temple, had been very well guarded indeed!
“Yes,” replied the millionaire. “They are likely to look out for us at all the places mentioned in the code despatches.”
Ben gave a low whistle of dismay, and directly the motors were pushing the machine forward at the rate of fifty or more miles an hour.
The aviators stopped on a level plateau about the middle of the afternoon to prepare dinner, and then swept on again. At nightfall, they were in the vicinity of a summit which lifted like a cone from a circular shelf of rock which almost completely surrounded it.
The millionaire aviator encircled the peak and finally decided that a landing might be made with safety. He dropped the Louise down very slowly and was gratified to find that there would be little difficulty in finding a resting-place below. As soon as he landed he turned his eyes toward the Bertha, still circling above.
The machine seemed to be coming steadily toward the shelf, but as he looked the great planes wavered and tipped, and when the aeroplane actually landed it was with a crash which threw Glenn from his seat and brought about a great rattling of machinery.
Glenn arose from the rock wiping blood from his face.
“I’m afraid that’s the end of the Bertha!” he exclaimed.
“I hope not,” replied Ben. “I think a lot of that old machine.”
Mr. Havens, after learning that Glenn’s injuries were not serious, hastened over to the aeroplane and began a careful examination of the motors.
“I think,” he said in a serious tone, “that the threads on one of the turn-buckles on one of the guy wires stripped so as to render the planes unmanageable.”
“They were unmanageable, all right!” Glenn said, rubbing the sore spots on his knees.
“Can we fix it right here?” Ben asked.
“That depends on whether we have a supply of turn-buckles,” replied Havens. “They certainly ought to be in stock somewhere.”
“Glory be!” cried Glenn. “We sure have plenty of turn-buckles!”
“Get one out, then,” the millionaire directed, “and we’ll see what we can do with it.”
The boys hunted everywhere in the tool boxes of both machines without finding what they sought.
“I know where they are!” said Glenn glumly in a moment.
“Then get one out!” advised Ben.
“They’re on the Ann!” explained Glenn. “If you remember we put the spark plugs and a few other things of that sort on the Louise and put the turn-buckles on the Ann.”
“Now, you wait a minute,” Mr. Havens advised. “Perhaps I can use the old turn-buckle on the sharp threads of the Louise and put the one which belongs there in the place of this worn one. Sometimes a transfer of that kind can be made to work in emergencies.”
“That’ll be fine!” exclaimed Ben. “I remember seeing that tried myself. I’ll hold the light while you take the buckle off the Louise.”
Ben turned his flashlight on the guy wires and the aviator began turning the buckle. The wires were very taut, and when the last thread was reached one of them sprang away so violently that the turn-buckle was knocked from his hand. The next moment they heard it rattling in the gorge below.
Mr. Havens sat flat down on the shelf of rocks and looked at the parted wires hopelessly. The boys had nothing to say.
“Well,” the millionaire said presently, “I guess we’re in for a good long cold night up in the sky.”
“Did you ever see such rotten luck?” demanded Glenn.
“Cheer up!” cried Ben. “We’ll find some way out of it.”
“Have you got any fish-lines, boys?” asked the aviator.
“You bet I have!” replied Ben. “You wouldn’t catch me off on a flying-machine trip without a fish-line. We’re going to have some fish before we get off the Andes.”
“Well,” said Mr. Havens, “pass it over and I’ll see if I can fasten these wires together with strong cord and tighten them up with a twister.”
“Why not?” asked Ben.
“I’ve seen things of that kind done often enough!” declared Glenn.
“And, besides,” Glenn added, “we may be able to use the worn turn-buckle on the Louise and go after repairs, leaving the Bertha here.”
“I don’t like to do that!” objected the millionaire aviator. “I believe we can arrange to take both machines out with us.”
But it was not such an easy matter fastening the cords and arranging the twister as had been anticipated. They all worked over the problem for an hour or more without finding any method of preventing the fish-line from breaking when the twister was applied. When drawn so tight that it was impossible to slip, the eyes showed a disposition to cut the strands.
At last they decided that it would be unsafe to use the Bertha in that condition and turned to the Louise with the worn turn-buckle.
To their dismay they found that the threads were worn so that it would be unsafe to trust themselves in the air with any temporary expedient which might be used to strengthen the connection.
“This brings us back to the old proposition of a night under the clouds!” the millionaire said.
“Or above the clouds,” Ben added, “if this fog keeps coming.”
Leaving the millionaire still studying over the needed repairs, Ben and his chum followed the circular cliff for some distance until they came to the east side of the cone. They stood looking over the landscape for a moment and then turned back to the machines silently and with grave faces.
“Have you got plenty of ammunition, Mr. Havens?” Ben asked.
“I think so,” was the reply.
“That’s good!” answered Ben.
“Why the question?” Mr. Havens asked, with a surprised look.
“Because,” Ben replied, “there’s a lot of Peruvian miners down on a lower shelf of this cone and they’re drunk.”
“Well, they can’t get up here, can they?” asked Mr. Havens.
“They’re making a stab at it!” answered Ben.
“There seems to be a strike or something of that sort on down there,” Glenn explained, “and it looks as if the fellows wanted to get up here and take possession of the aeroplanes.”
“Perhaps we can talk them out of it!” smiled the millionaire.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to do something more than talk,” Glenn answered.
The three now went to the east side of the cone and looked down. There was a gully leading from the shelf to a plateau below. At some past time this gully had evidently been the bed of a running mountain stream. On the plateau below were excavations and various pieces of crude mining machinery.
Between the excavations and the bottom of the gully at least a hundred men were racing for the cut, which seemed to offer an easy mode of access to the shelf where the flying machines lay.
“We’ll have to stand here and keep them back!” Mr. Havens decided.
“I don’t believe we can keep them back,” Glenn answered, “for there may be other places similar to this. Those miners can almost climb a vertical wall.”
The voices of the miners could now be distinctly heard, and at least three or four of them were speaking in English.
“Keep back!” Mr. Havens warned as they came nearer.
His words were greeted by a howl of derision.
“Perhaps,” Mr. Havens said in a moment, “one of you would better go back to the machines and see if there is danger from another point.”
Ben started away, but paused and took his friend by the arm.
“What do you think of that?” he demanded, pointing away to the south.
Mr. Havens grasped the boy’s hand and in the excitement of the moment shook it vigorously.
“I think,” he answered, “that those are the lights of the Ann, and that we’ll soon have all the turn-buckles we want.”
The prophesy was soon verified. The Ann landed with very little difficulty, and the boys were soon out on the ledge.
The miners drew back grumbling and soon disappeared in the excavations below.
As may well be imagined the greetings which passed between the two parties were frank and heartfelt. The repair box of the Ann was well supplied with turn-buckles, and in a very short time the three machines were on their way to the south.
Mr. Havens and Sam sat together on the Ann, and during the long hours after midnight while the machines purred softly through the chill air of the mountains, the millionaire was informed of all that had taken place at the ruined temple.
“And that ruined temple you have described,” Mr. Havens said, with a smile, “is in reality one of the underground stations on the way to the Mystery of the Andes at Lake Titicaca.”
“And why?” asked Sam, “do they call any special point down there the mystery of the Andes? There are plenty of mysteries in these tough old mountain ranges!” he added with a smile.
“But this is a particularly mysterious kind of a mystery,” replied Mr. Havens. “I’ll tell you all about it some other time.”
CHAPTER XXII.
TWO RUNAWAY BOYS!
A great camp-fire blazed in one of the numerous valleys which nestle in the Andes to the east of Lake Titicaca. The three flying machines, the Ann, the Louise and the Bertha, lay just outside the circle of illumination. It was the evening of the fourth day after the incidents recorded in the last chapter.
The Flying Machine Boys had traveled at good speed, yet with frequent rests, from the mountain cone above the Peruvian mines to the little valley in which the machines now lay.
Jimmie and Carl, well wrapped in blankets, were lying with their feet extended toward the blaze, while Glenn was broiling venison steak at one corner of the great fire, and, also, as he frequently explained, broiling his face to a lobster finish while he turned the steaks about in order to get the exact finish.
The millionaire aviator and Sam sat some distance away discussing prospects and plans for the next day. While they talked an Indian accompanied by Ben came slowly out of the shadows at the eastern edge of the valley and approached the fire.
“Have you discovered the Mystery of the Andes?” asked Havens with a laugh as the two came up.
“We certainly have discovered the Mystery of the Andes!” cried Ben excitedly. “But we haven’t discovered the mystery of the mystery!”
“Come again!” shouted Jimmie springing to his feet.
“You see,” Ben went on, “Toluca took me to a point on the cliff to the south from which the ghost lights of the mysterious fortress can be seen, but we don’t know any more about the origin of the lights than we did before we saw them.”
“Then there really are lights?” asked Carl.
“There certainly are!” replied Ben.
“What kind of an old shop, is it?” asked Jimmie.
“It’s one of the old-time fortresses,” replied Ben. “It is built on a steep mountainside and guards a pass between this valley and one beyond. It looks as if it might have been a rather formidable fortress a few hundred years ago, but now a shot from a modern gun would send the battlements flying into the valley.”
“But why the lights?” demanded Jimmie.
“That’s the mystery!” Ben answered. “They’re ghost lights!”
“Up to within a few months,” Mr. Havens began, “this fortress has never attracted much attention. It is said to be rather a large fortification, and some of the apartments are said to extend under the cliff, in the same manner as many of the gun rooms on Gibraltar extend into the interior of that solid old rock.”
“More subterranean passages!” groaned Jimmie. “I never want to see or hear of one again. Ever since that experience at the alleged temple they will always smell of wild animals and powder smoke.”
“A few months ago,” the millionaire aviator continued, smiling tolerantly at the boy, “ghostly lights began making their appearance in the vicinity of the fort. American scientists who were in this part of the country at that time made a careful investigation of the demonstrations, and reported that the illuminations existed only in the imaginations of the natives. And yet, it is certain that the scientists were mistaken.”
“More bunk!” exclaimed Carl.
“At first,” Mr. Havens went on, “the natives kept religiously away from the old fort, but now they seem to be willing to gather in its vicinity and worship at the strange fires which glow from the ruined battlements. It is strange combination, and that’s a fact.”
“How long have these lights been showing?” asked Sam.
“Perhaps six months,” was the reply.
The young man regarded his employer significantly.
“I apprehend,” he said, “that you know exactly what that means.”
“I think I do!” was the reply.
“Put us wise to it!” exclaimed Jimmie.
“Perhaps,” smiled the millionaire, “I would better satisfy myself as to the truth of my theory before I say anything more about it.”
“All right,” replied the boy with the air of a much-abused person, “then I’ll go back to my blanket and sleep for the rest of my three weeks!”
“If you do,” Glenn cut in, “you’ll miss one of these venison steaks.”
Jimmie was back on his feet in a minute.
“Lead me to it!” he cried.
The boys still declare that that was the most satisfying meal of which they ever partook. The broiled steaks were excellent, and the tinned goods which had been purchased at one of the small Peruvian mining towns on the way down, were fresh and sweet.
As may be understood without extended description, the work of washing the dishes and cleaning up after the meal was not long extended!
In an hour every member of the party except Toluca was sound asleep. The Indian had been engaged on the recommendation of an acquaintance at one of the towns on the line of the interior railroad, and was entirely trustworthy. He now sat just outside the circle of light, gazing with rapt attention in the direction of the fortress which for some time past had been known as the Mystery of the Andes.
A couple of hours passed, and then Ben rolled over to where Jimmie lay asleep, his feet toasting at the fire, his head almost entirely covered by his blanket.
“Wake up, sleepy-head!” Ben whispered.
Jimmie stirred uneasily in his slumber and half opened his eyes.
“Go on away!” he whispered.
“But look here!” Ben insisted. “I’ve got something to tell you!”
Toluca arose and walked over to where the two boys were sitting.
“Look here!” Ben went on. “Here’s Toluca now, and I’ll leave it to him if every word I say isn’t true. He can’t talk much United States, but he can nod when I make a hit. Can’t you, Toluca?”
The Indian nodded and Ben went on:
“Between this valley,” the boy explained, “and the face of the mountain against which the fort sticks like a porous plaster is another valley. Through this second valley runs a ripping, roaring, foaming, mountain stream which almost washes the face of the cliff against which the fortress stands. This stream, you understand, is one of the original defences, as it cuts off approach from the north.”
“I understand,” said Jimmie sleepily.
“Now, the only way to reach this alleged mystery of the Andes from this direction seems to be to sail over this valley in one of the machines and drop down on the cliff at the rear.”
“But is there a safe landing there?” asked the boy.
“Toluca says there is!”
“Has he been there?” asked Jimmie.
“Of course he has!” answered Ben. “He doesn’t believe in the Inca superstitions about ghostly lights and all that.”
“Then why don’t we take one of the machines and go over there?” demanded Jimmie. “That would be fun!”
“That’s just what I came to talk with you about?”
“I’m game for it!” the boy asserted.
“As a matter of fact,” Ben explained as the boys arose and softly approached the Louise, “the only other known way of reaching the fortress is by a long climb which occupies about two days. Of course,” he went on, “the old fellows selected the most desirable position for defence when they built the fort. That is,” he added, “unless we reach it by the air route.”
“The air line,” giggled Jimmie, “is the line we’re patronizing to-night.”
“Of course!” Ben answered. “All previous explorers, it seems, have approached the place on foot, and by the winding ledges and paths leading to it. Now, naturally, the people who are engineering the ghost lights and all that sort of thing there see the fellows coming and get the apparatus out of sight before the visitors arrive.”
“Does Mr. Havens know all about this?” asked Jimmie.
“You’re dense, my son!” whispered Ben. “We’ve come all this way to light down on the fortress in the night-time without giving warning of our approach. That’s why we came here in the flying machines.”
“He thinks Redfern is here?” asked Jimmie.
“He thinks this is a good place to look for him!” was the reply.
“Then we’ll beat him to it!” Jimmie chuckled.
Toluca seemed to understand what the boys were about to do and smiled grimly as the machine lifted from the ground and whirled softly away. As the Louise left the valley, Mr. Havens and Sam turned lazily in their blankets, doubtless disturbed by the sound of the motors, but, all being quiet about the camp, soon composed themselves to slumber again.
“Now, we’ll have to go slowly!” Ben exclaimed as the machine lifted so that the lights of the distant mystery came into view, “for the reason that we mustn’t make too much noise. Besides,” he went on, “we’ve got to switch off to the east, cut a wide circle around the crags, and come down on the old fort from the south.”
“And when we get there?” asked Jimmie.
“Why,” replied Ben, “we’re going to land and sneak into the fort! That’s what we’re going for!”
“I hope we won’t tumble into a lot of jaguars, and savages, and half-breed Spaniards!” exclaimed Jimmie.
“Oh, we’re just going to look now,” Ben answered, “and when we find out what’s going on there we’re coming back and let Mr. Havens do the rest. We wouldn’t like to take all the glory away from him.”
Following this plan, the boys sent the machine softly away to the east, flying without lights, and at as low altitude as possible, until they were some distance away from the camp. Then they turned to the south.
In an hour the fortress showed to the north, or at least the summit under which it lay did.
“There’s the landing-place just east of that cliff,” Ben exclaimed, as he swung still lower down. “I’ll see if I can hit it.”
The Louise took kindly to the landing, and in ten minutes more the boys were moving cautiously in the direction of the old fort, now lying dark and silent under the starlight. It seemed to Jimmie that his heart was in his throat as the possible solution of the mystery of the Andes drew near!
CHAPTER XXIII.
TWO RUNAWAY AVIATORS!
Half an hour after the departure of the Louise, Sam awoke with a start and moved over to where the millionaire aviator was sleeping.
“Time to be moving!” he whispered in his ear.
Mr. Havens yawned, stretched himself, and threw his blanket aside.
“I don’t know,” he said with a smile, “but we’re doing wrong in taking all the credit of this game. The boys have done good work ever since leaving New York, and my conscience rather pricks me at the thought of leaving them out of the closing act.”
“Well,” Sam answered, “the boys are certainly made of the right material, if they are just a little too much inclined to take unnecessary risks. I wouldn’t mind having them along, but, really, there’s no knowing what one of them might do.”
“Very well,” replied Mr. Havens, “we’ll get underway in the Ann and land on top of the fortress before the occupants of that musty old fortification know that we are in the air.”
“That’s the talk!” Sam agreed. “We’ll make a wide circuit to the west and come up on that side of the summit which rises above the fort. I’m certain, from what I saw this afternoon, that there is a good landing-place there. Most of these Peruvian mountain chains,” he went on, “are plentifully supplied with good landings, as the shelves and ledges which lie like terraces on the crags were formerly used as highways and trails by the people who lived here hundreds of years ago.”
“We must be very careful in getting away from the camp,” Mr. Havens suggested. “We don’t want the boys to suspect that we are going off on a little adventure of our own.”
“Very well,” replied the other, “I’ll creep over in the shadows and push the Ann down the valley so softly that they’ll never know what’s taken place. If you walk down a couple of hundred yards, I’ll pick you up. Then we’ll be away without disturbing any one.”
So eager were the two to leave the camp without their intentions being discovered by the others, that they did not stop to see whether all the three machines were still in place. The Ann stood farthest to the east, next to the Bertha, and Sam crept in between the two aeroplanes and began working the Ann slowly along the grassy sward.
Had he lifted his head for a moment and looked to the rear, he must have seen that only the Bertha lay behind him. Had he investigated the two rolls of blankets lying near the fire, he would have seen that they covered no sleeping forms!
But none of these precautions were taken. The Ann moved noiselessly down the valley to where Mr. Havens awaited her and was sent into the air. The rattle of the motors seemed to the two men to be loud enough to bring any one within ten miles out of a sound sleep, but they saw no movements below, and soon passed out of sight.
Wheeling sharply off to the west, they circled cliffs, gorges and grassy valleys for an hour until they came to the western slope of the mountain which held the fortress. It will be remembered that the Louise had circled to the east.
“And now,” Mr. Havens said as he slowed down, “if we find a landing-place here, even moderately secure, down we go. If I don’t, I’ll shoot up again and land squarely on top of the fort.”
“I don’t believe it’s got any roof to land on!” smiled Sam.
“Yes, it has!” replied Mr. Havens. “I’ve had the old fraud investigated. I know quite a lot about her!”
“You have had her investigated?” asked Sam, in amazement.
“You know very well,” the millionaire went on, “that we have long suspected Redfern to be hiding in this part of Peru. I can’t tell you now how we secured all the information we possess on the subject. It would take too much time.
“However, it is enough to say that by watching the mails and sending out messengers we have connected the rival trust company of which you have heard me speak with mysterious correspondents in Peru. The work has been long, but rather satisfying.”
“Why,” Sam declared, “I thought this expedition was a good deal of a guess! I hadn’t any idea you knew so much about this country.”
“We know more about it than is generally believed,” was the answer. “Deposit box A, which was robbed on the night Ralph Hubbard was murdered, contained, as I have said, all the information we possessed regarding this case. When the papers were stolen I felt like giving up the quest, but the code telegrams cheered me up a bit, especially when they were stolen.”
“I don’t see anything cheerful in having the despatches stolen.”
“It placed the information I possessed in the hands of my enemies, of course,” the other went on, “but at the same time it set them to watching the points we had in a way investigated, and which they now understood that we intended to visit.”
“I don’t quite get you!” Sam said.
“You had an illustration of that at the haunted temple,” Mr. Havens continued. “The Redfern group knew that that place was on my list. By some quick movement, understood at this time only by themselves, they sent a man there to corrupt the custodian of the captive animals. You know what took place then. Only for courage and good sense, the machines would have been destroyed.”
“The savages unwittingly helped some!” suggested Sam.
“Yes, everything seemed to work to your advantage,” Mr. Havens continued. “At the mines, now,” he continued, “we helped ourselves out of the trap set for us.”
“You don’t think the miners, too, were working under instructions?” asked Sam. “That seems impossible!”
“This rival trust company,” Mr. Havens went on, “has agents in every part of the world. In Peru as elsewhere; especially in Peru. It is my belief that not only the men of the mine we came upon, but the men of every other mine along the Andes, were under instructions to look out for, and, under some pretense, destroy any flying machines which made their appearance.”